A/N: I was not expecting the next chapter to take quite so long – apologies. The usual reasons: medical crap, work crap, personal crap. No one comes here to read about my whining. The chapter also took longer because I rewrote it four times, each time stripping out core components. The final version owes a lot to Quentin as well as the rest of the Editing Gang, as usual.
The Next Chapter is already underway at 2k words so far. No ETA on that, but hopefully it will be a little quicker than this was to get out.
Read the works of Nolanstar, Xabiar, Aberron, and Katkiller-V or else I will make the Editing Gang read more bad fanfic.
'It has been a curiously common theme in all societies – asari, turian, krogan, batarian, volus, even the quarians – that there are mysterious, unknown parties or groups who control the world or galaxy or whatever quaint political system you utilize from behind the scenes. The names are immaterial (and usually juvenile), but the idea of a shadowy cabal of powerful figures controlling our fate seems universal. I have lived long enough to realize that no such groups exist within a species. But I have also wondered if our gaze is merely set too low, and there are alien intellects as far above us as we are above the bacteria who live in our gut, amused at our silly games.
If there is a hand upon the quarry's bait, I doubt it is one we would see until it is far too late to avoid the hunter's trap.'
-Doctor Ganar Okeer, 'Trivialities of an Eon'
"Time to target approach, sixty seconds."
"Stations report all hands prepared for docking maneuvers. Docking secondary dampening systems… engaged. Navigational kinetics online."
"Sensors reading no debris in our path, C-Sec escorts are closing up beside us in normal escort pattern."
The crisp back-and-forth phrases uttered by the bridge crew were spoken tautly, a rhythm of sound and movement to guide the ship to its destination. The bridge was cast mostly in dark red lighting, brightened here and there by red and silver haptics, scrolling information or displaying systems alike.
Batarian ships rarely had working haptics, as they required both maintenance and optronics, but this was no normal batarian vessel.
Only the highest of all castes, the Imperial-caste, were allowed to crew this particular vessel. It was the Batarian Emperor's personal travel ship, rarely utilized outside of the Batarian Empire itself. Every line of the ship was the highest possible quality and no expense had been spared in the training of the crew or the material makeup of the ship.
The ship's Captain, a blade-thin figure clad in night-black silk and batarian-blood-orange leather, straightened as the doors to the bridge slid open, revealing his passenger.
With a crisp batarian salute – the clenched fist over his heart – he greeted the other figure, bowing as he did so. "Highness, we approach the Citadel. Thus far, there have been no… issues."
The other batarian leaned indolently against the bulkhead, examining his long, claw-like nails. "Excellent. How long until we can arrive so that I may dispense with this charade?"
The Captain glanced aside at the heavily muscled form of his navigator, who tilted his head far to the left and murmured something. The Captain exhaled. "Less than five minutes, Highness. I have already instructed the Captain of your Guard to prepare. Will you require any of the ship's defense contingent?"
The batarian he faced gave a soft, quiet laugh of amusement. "No, that will not be necessary. This should be short and to the point, and C-Sec will wish to avoid trouble. I will head to the landing bay. Ensure all systems are ready for departure as soon as I am finished here."
The Captain bowed again, and by the time he rose, the other batarian had left. He gave another long exhalation and a silent plea to the Dark Gods for mercy, then turned to the helmsman. "Take us in, carefully, to the docking ring. Comms, prepare to inform C-Sec we are ready to dock."
The Citadel's High Presidium docking ring was a rather exclusive facility, tucked in as it was near the Citadel Tower and the most expensive hab-spaces and towers on the Presidium. Less than a hundred docking slots were available, most occupied by towering pleasure liners, sleek diplomatic ships, or the occasional small private yacht or pinnace of some rich corporate officer. A trio of slips held hanar vessels, while a small section to the left of the main tower was emptied of all ships and highlighted with flashing nav buoys.
The dock ring jutted out from a lip of metal that overhung it, which was festooned with more than a dozen heavy weapons emplacements. The surroundings were under the heaviest guard possible. Ten Final Line soldiers backed up over a thousand elites – asari commandos, salarian STG War Specialists, turian cabalists, quarian Techmarines, and human Knights – overseen by the stern visage of Vursain Palavanus. Clad in the distinctive gray and red of the Citadel Guard, they were ever-present along the dockside, patrolling in tight groups or tucked into snipers' overlooks and guard towers.
The sinister, black-tinted metal of the ship approaching the ring was cast in purple highlights along the razored edges and smooth curves of the ship, even as the darker parts of the hull reflected the gleaming lights of the Presidium itself. Turrets all along the docking ring traced its path as it slowed its advance, the ship applying lateral thrust in a faint spray of mono-propellant to align properly with the haptic light trail extending from the ring.
As the batarian cruiser eased into the docking ring, the Captain transmitted his docking code along with the fifteen thousand-credit docking fee. "Citadel Traffic, this is Imperial Sword cruiser Blade of the Emperor, carrying Executor Prince Baenas. Docking finalized, we are cutting engine and core power as requested. Request fueling and discharge lines upon hard-lock."
The thin tones of a salarian answered. "Blade, this is Citadel Tower. Acknowledged. C-Sec is prepared, docking service lines will be extended shortly."
The arrival of a ship of the Batarian Empire – especially one with an Imperial Prince aboard – was rare enough that this visit – hastily announced only hours after the Fall of Ilium – was being handled with C-Sec's finest. A full reinforced company of C-Sec officers formed a double cordon line around the docking canopy as the gangway tube extended, forming a hard lock to the cruiser's airlock.
The airlock cycled open, and after a minute, eight heavily armored figures stepped out, all armed to the teeth. They formed a flanking guard, each one coming to a precise stop and then halting, turning sharply to face their counterpart. Their black armor, laced with plates of some dark metal and accented by leather capes and robes, drew the eye almost as much as the black-steel masks each one wore to cover all their features except for falls of long white hair.
No alien could look upon the face of an Imperial and live, after all. The masks were a convenient way to bypass this, and to intimidate even further.
The C-Sec Captain overseeing the docking stiffened as the expected figure disembarked, drawing himself to his full height. Not that it mattered, the batarian swaggering forward still over-topped the turian Captain by almost half a meter in height.
Powerful shoulders supported a heavy black leather cape, done in interlocking hexagons trimmed with gold thread. Black and gold silken robes parted as the batarian walked, revealing loose leather pants tucked into steel-soled high boots, and black open-fingered leather gloves covered the hands hooked arrogantly into the belt.
As with all of the Imperial-caste when they traveled among aliens, the Executor wore a ceremonial mask of bone, blackened and trimmed in a dark orange color so similar to that of batarian blood that it did not leave much to the imagination when it came to figuring out the source. His queue of bone-white hair trailed down his back almost to his knees, and the heavy gold and eezo sigil holding his cloak together was marked with the axe and fist of the Imperial Family.
The batarian came to a stop in front of the C-Sec Captain, looking down, his voice amused even in its dark baritone. "Greetings, Captain. I am Baenas Hae'ta Venkarith, Executor of the Imperial Will, third-born of M'kathra, Prince of the House of Venkarith. I trust you have all the necessary… paperwork, dispensations, and whatnot?"
Captain Iksari grunted. "I do, Your Highness. While an unexpected meeting, the hanar ambassador was insistent on having the Citadel as the backdrop. The Citadel Council is pleased that the Emperor is open to such communication. We have arranged transport and security, as you implied you would not need your bodyguards."
With a sharp motion, Prince Baenas gestured, and his Imperial Guardsmen fell back into the ship. "That is correct. The Emperor, praise be, has instructed us to be… ah, yes. More 'cooperative' with the forces outside of our realm. If there is nothing further, I am prepared to leave immediately."
The turian suppressed a grimace, his mandibles barely moving as he stepped aside to lead the way to the ground-car. Six C-Sec aircars hovered above, while two more armored ground-cars flanked the main vehicle, a luxurious silver and black model from T'Koro Industries. "This way then, Your Majesty."
The remainder of the trip was done in silence, the driver of the ground-car – a well-trusted C-Sec special reaction force driver – having been told not to speak. The convoy wound its way from the docks to the more exclusive curve of the Presidium neighborhoods, the ground-lanes hemmed in by expensive hab-palaces shaped from the hull of the Citadel and flanked with extensive gardens, high-end shops, and water parks in vast numbers.
The ground-car came to a stop at the entrance to a slender, short tower – white, like all main Presidium buildings, and scored with a triple line of narrow windows and a single, fortified entrance. A dozen drell in medium armor were flanked by no less than a full dozen Remembrance Dancers, who all came to the drell attention stance as the Prince exited the car.
He turned to the C-Sec Captain, who had exited his own vehicle to approach. "This meeting should not take long, Captain. Once I am done, I do not intend to incite any issues by wandering the Citadel – I will be returning immediately to my vessel. If at all possible, would the escort remain here?"
The Captain gave a short nod. "Of course… Your Majesty."
The grudging nature of his voice only made Baenas smile wider behind his mask.
The Executor didn't say anything else, instead, insolently walking right down the line of drell guards without breaking stride and entering the armored portal. The lobby of the building had been cleared, more Dancers standing around inside, and a single doorway was flanked by three more Dancers. The walls were crystalline and tinted a faint, glowing pale pink, set off by insets of white metal. Corals grew in odd shapes in transparent tubes that ran the length of the high ceilings and down the sides of the only door he could see.
Two of the Dancers remained at the door while the third Dancer approached the Prince and gave a shallow bow. "Greetings, Prince Baenas. Welcome to the hanar embassy. Sullen-Memory is within the room, and we have both checked for any form of surveillance and installed as many anti-spying technologies as possible. Once you are within, we shall also raise a kinetic barrier."
The batarian merely gave him a grunted approval and moved toward the door, which slid open quietly. The room beyond was simple compared to the lobby – blank metal walls done in plain white décor set off by equally pale wooden floors. The room was mostly empty; a single line of three narrow, darkened windows gazing over the Presidium and out into the Widow Nebula, and a long naggai wood table, with haptic equipment inlaid into it.
There was a single chair, leather and overstuffed, and the batarian dropped into it, leaning back indolently. Across from the chair floated a hanar, body draped in soft green cloth and looking away. It rotated in air as the batarian sat, and then made a gesture with its front tentacles.
The air seemed to almost crystallize for a moment, and the batarian frowned as he sensed the power that erupted around them both. "You are paranoid if you are using Godpower invocations to protect against the insects outside overhearing anything. We question why we are doing this at all if you are so concerned about being overheard – Fartalking would have been safer and easier."
The hanar floated closer, its voice serene. "If associating with the natives has illuminated me in any regard, it is to prepare and expect for the unexpected. As to why we are using these flesh puppets to communicate, I will explain that shortly. Thank you for hearing me out. I am… somewhat surprised you answered my Call so rapidly."
The batarian leaned back in the chair. "The brute is asleep and dreaming, so we did not have to fight his mind to come here. The rest were busy with the healing of Vhera." The Prince flicked his tongue over fang-like teeth. "We could imply we were interested, but to be honest, we figured being away from that pack of fire-obsessed simpletons was likely to be refreshing."
He tilted his head to the left. "Aside from that, we also somehow doubt you would go to this much trouble and exposure if it was not important, although the why eludes me. We could have let one of the others know, but while Tahmo and Cernaya – and most of the others – would refuse to meet with you, we both know why we're more reasonable."
The hanar pulsed. "Indeed, 'Sharn.' You still call yourselves by his name?"
Baenas gave a light laugh. "We are fans of ironic comeuppance. And in our own… culture, names do not exist. It is a convenient enough label."
The hanar's light dimmed. "Perhaps. But despite the fact that you puppet him – and yes, I do see the irony – you are still aligned with and aiding the goals he and the rest of my former soldiers devised. While that does not invalidate the fact that you agreed to meet with me, I wonder why you bother."
Baenas's mask shifted slightly. "Does it matter? After being little more than biological printers for millions of years, does it surprise you that we are no more benign towards the insects that inhabit this galaxy than the rest of Sharn's Ascended? Spare us. We have learned the hard way that only through power does one receive respect."
The hanar said nothing, and the batarian waved a hand. "Enough of this. Co-opting the shell of one of these pathetic mortals is both trying and boring, Katha. Why do you want to talk and why here? Most importantly, why like this, in these pitiful exhalations of breath? These mortal languages can't even convey half of reality accurately."
The hanar floated to its right. "There are reasons, Sharn. The first and most important is that there was… a small ripple, in the field of the Godpower. It was not above the level of the Severity, but strong enough the resonance could be clearly heard even at this distance. The signature was that of a Reaper, most likely Nazara… and it was a call of Unmaking."
The batarian Prince shook his head. "While I am no master of the Godpower like your kind, I was under the distinct impression Unmaking was extremely dangerous – to the point it was the leading cause of death among the Ascended. Just why would there be any need to Unmake something at this remove?"
The hanar pulsed. "Indeed, that is the question. The Reapers are barely capable of even utilizing the ways of Unmaking, and more than one of them has destroyed itself trying. Given that Nazara's form was obliterated by the mortals some time ago, one of his Pyramids must have been behind this."
Baenas frowned, eyes narrowed behind his mask. "Which is even less capable than his full form, so whatever drove Nazara to that point must have been dire indeed. If the fool lost control with so little power, he could have torn open a hole to the Below. Nazara was always short-sighted, however. I presume there is more than that?"
The voice of the hanar dipped. "Yes. The second reason is that I am unsure of the threat, but it is almost certain that Nazara wouldn't waste energy – or risk his existence – on something that wasn't just as dangerous. Nothing the mortals could do would be on that scale, so… it is very possible we've overlooked someone – or, perhaps, something – meddling once again in our affairs."
The batarian gave a great snort. "Of all the beings to mention that to, saying it to one of your own former tools that has taken over one of your brethren seems rather ironic."
The hanar gave a wave of its tentacles. "True, you are an example of one such unexpected result. Your cousins ended up trying to build their future, your kind instead rose to our own level."
The hanar's tentacles waved again, this time in agitation. "And I haven't forgotten the hard lessons the Ab'anon imparted upon the All-Highest. For all of our power, there was much we did not know, and that led to our downfall."
Baenas gave a chuckle at that. "Unleashing the Darkness was more than just ignorance, but I do take your point. And since…"
The hanar pulsed. "Since we don't know, we can't be sure that our own Godpower usage is safe. That is the reason we're doing things in this fashion. I don't know if said unknown party can spy upon the Fartalking."
The batarian sat up straight. "Very few beings have that kind of skill. The All-Highest could not do so except with great effort and the Godpower. Even those things – the masters of the Ab'anon, or the 'Elder One,' or whatever the mortals call it – could not do that. The only ones who were good at that were Kidun and Ur-Avar. What is this about, Katha?"
The hanar embodying Katha half turned. "It may be one of our kind or something else entirely. I digress. I know you keep track of the natives more intently than I do, so you are aware of what transpired on Ilium?"
Baenas leaned back, a baffled note in his tone. "Only in generalities. Mortals bored us when we were merely tools, now that we are in control they are even less important. Another squabble of insects and fungus over something meaningless, we presume. Something to do with asari."
The being using Sullen-Memory as its host gave a sound of amusement. "That is what I first thought. I barely pay any attention to the natives, after all. Then I felt the ripple – from the surface of Ilium. It was clearly a Reaper use – loud, clumsy, slow. But as I pointed out, one does not have to use Godpower to smash or destroy native constructs…"
The batarian scowled behind his mask. "…Yes. Only the constructs crafted with Godpower need it to destroy." He paused. "Is it possible the natives have mastered the power? Already?"
The hanar turned to face the person across the table directly. "No. That was my first concern, but the signature would have been different." Katha's avatar flailed a tentacle through the air. "I know that I did not place anything on Ilium, and I somehow doubt you or the others in Sharn's command did either. Based on the strength of the… act, whatever was destroyed had a very short time-cone – well under fifteen thousand years."
A pause, then the hanar's voice dipped again. "That means there is another player in the dance, one I do not know."
Sharn's puppet leaned back, the ancient minds inhabiting the body gazing at his counterpart for several seconds. "Ah, that's why we're here. You worry whoever this is could use Godpower to listen in, but the Citadel is such a massive pull of Godpower that anything here will get lost."
With an idle motion of his hand, the batarian gave a dark laugh. "Thus, a chronokinetic barrier, and us using mortal language. You have a suspicion of who this is?"
The hanar twitched its tentacles. "No… although I know it is not you, or that fool Lethath."
Baenas stiffened. "…You knew he survived? Sharn's memories indicated he thought you didn't know."
The hanar made another sound of amusement. "Sharn, – and the very humor in calling you by his name is, I agree with you, very satisfying – I know you cannot have a very high opinion of the Ascended, given we obliterated ourselves and that you managed to take over the mind of one of our stronger members. But there is very, very little I don't know. Lethath's actions – assuming the fool is still alive – will be dealt with at a later date."
The hanar turned away again. "The signature backwash from the Unmaking was relatively quiet, but I know Lethath's signature, and that was not it. And it was none of your group."
The batarian leaned back in the chair, the mind connected to it thinking. "We know for a fact, from Sharn's memories and talking with the rest, that Galtisa, Ikith, and Ur-Avar are destroyed, they fell fighting the Darkness. Jhela was destroyed in the flight. Any of the Defenders who did not flee with Sharn were almost certainly dead."
Katha's voice was low. "The entirety of the Godpower Engineers and those who maintained the ways were obliterated when the Eternity Gate burst asunder – and the Godpower scientists all died with the All-Highest."
Baenas leaned back in the chair further, his voice musing. "And from Sharn's memories, I can tell you that all of the Builder's Pyre – all the Godpower constructor-adepts and most of the fleshcrafters – died in the final assault before the Catalyst enacted his mad plans on Uhl."
The hanar pulsed. "There are only a few of us that had a strong signature of this nature."
"Could the Ab'anon be responsible?" Baenas sounded amused.
"Possibly. Its true abilities were always opaque, but I have my doubts – its signature is different. It came to the Citadel centuries ago to speak with me. It's still searching for answers. Besides, its power was in power. For all the strength it had, it had less understanding of the Godpower than Lethath."
The batarian made a gesture with his right hand, and laughed. "The Ab'anon is a broken instrument, and far too limited in its programming. As Sharn discovered, power is no proof against subtle assault and careful planning. It's no threat, I merely asked out of curiosity."
"Perhaps, but it is persistent. One such as that can never be discounted. Though Ilium was different, created neither by the Ab'anon nor the Darkness – it was definitely an Ascended signature. That leaves only a few ugly possibilities: Hesseth Kumol, Uikith… and Kidun." The last name was spat out in distaste, and the batarian gave another laugh.
"The High Fleshcrafter may or may not have survived – we have encountered several races that look to be Shaped; that was in the early wanderings. Nothing in this galaxy shows his touch, except maybe the volus."
The batarian linked his hands below his mask and shook his head. "The other two…" He trailed off, then shook his head. "Would be very bad. Uikith would unleash a wave of defilement and mutation on anything he found 'unpure,' and Kidun… ugh. Kidun scared even the All-Highest and Ur-Avar."
The hanar that Katha was controlling shone briefly. "Yes. Precisely. My plans thus far have simply been to observe. My tools, the hanar, are an experiment of sorts. Obstructing the plans that Uhl and the other Reapers follow has been pointless. Despite thinking they are 'in control,' they have followed the plan almost to the last detail. Lethath, whatever that fool is planning, has not interfered with it… thus far, at least."
Baenas placed both hands on the table. "But you fear whoever is behind what Nazara destroyed might interfere?"
The hanar made a wavelike motion with its tentacles. "It is not prudent to guess, Sharn. Plans will have to be changed. The Reapers are no longer needed for the infrastructure of their Severity to work, and the backdoors into the code that the Catalyst should have introduced have not been corrected."
Behind his mask, the batarian puppet frowned. "If that's the case, why change things now, at this late date? I was under the impression we were ready, at long last, to move forward."
The hanar's luminescence dimmed. "Because if I am right and it is one of those two, there is no telling what they would try to do in the chaos of dealing with the Darkness. We'd be weak in the aftermath and that would give them a free hand. If Uikith survived, then destruction would be his highest goal – and I cannot even imagine the chaos that Kidun would unleash."
Sharn's avatar was silent for almost a full minute before speaking. "Perhaps. I know you have your plans, but the rest of the group with Sharn has not been idle. We have already laid plans in regards to the Reapers. According to our tools, they appear to be heavily occupied fighting a Godpower-capable race in the Sculptor Galaxy, and are for the most part ignoring this one, despite the loss of Nazara. Their Collector lackeys tried to dismantle the Influence we hold over the batarians, but it failed. We have neutralized the Black Pyramid of the Alpha Relay – it will dump their initial strike force straight into a class eight black hole ringed with a dozen reality anchors."
The hanar turned to face the batarian. "And then?"
Baenas shrugged. "We have designed several sets of armor from Reaper remains, but we need more for the proper level of equipment. Half of our number are still in healing sleeps, and some are wounded, but that still leaves me with five other Ascended." He paused. "If we can get the rest to work with you…"
Katha's avatar gave a pulse of light. "We'll see. The possibility of interference means it is more likely I will need to take a very direct hand in things. We may need to focus more on getting the remainder of Sharn's forces at least willing to cooperate – I doubt they will disagree as long as I frame things in the proper fashion."
Baenas gave a dark laugh. "As I said, fire-obsessed simpletons." He adjusted his robes idly with one hand, then looked up. "And for now?"
The hanar pulsed. "For now, I will be keeping a closer eye on the mortals, and try to uncover just what was on Ilium that the Reapers had to destroy. As for your part of the plan; the Reapers will almost certainly use the Alpha Relay, and you can handle their initial strike force. It will take them time to finish the beings in the Sculptor Galaxy and turn their wrath here. I will have the hanar assist the natives and stiffen their resistance."
The hanar floated across the table. "Eventually, Uhl, or 'Harbinger,' or whatever the idiot calls itself now, will grow arrogantly frustrated and arrive with most of its rabble. They'll no doubt make a push to the Citadel and we'll break them there, and use the Catalyst to subdue them. Then finish the rest off."
The batarian stood, straightening his elaborate outfit. "And Lethath?"
The hanar's voice was mirthful. "The mortals are often foolish, but the ones called humans have a saying I rather like: 'we'll burn that bridge when we come to it.' If we are right about this interference being from Uikith or Kidun, the most amusing thing would be to turn Lethath against them, thus solving two problems with one very neat incident."
Baenas nodded. "Very well. We will begin convincing the rest of the force to prepare for war once more." He paused, then sighed. "And the mortal races? We rather like the batarians, we've reshaped them into something quite pleasing. It would be a pity to waste them."
Katha's possessed minion pulsed. "I see no reason not to blunt the initial Reaper advance with the other mortal races before risking our own tools. After we have crushed Uhl and taken control of the Catalyst, and dealt with Lethath and any other meddlers, the rest of the mortals can serve."
Sharn smiled beneath his mask. "Or be crushed?"
The hanar gestured to the door. "We shall see. Some of them are… useful. Others, less so. No matter. My Masking is beginning to resonate, I will have to let it fall. Return to Batarian Space, and I will begin construction on a less noticeable method of communication that doesn't require Godpower."
"As you wish, Katha." The batarian walked to the door, then paused once again. "It strikes me that there is more than a slight chance this conflict may draw in the Darkness before we are ready. The last time we tried this, the Arcann failed badly. And the Inusannon and Tho'ians, despite actually building the weapon, also failed, even if they were smart enough to flee. This pathetic pack of natives wouldn't last five seconds against even the thralls the Darkness uses, much less the main beast."
The hanar did not move, and spoke quietly. "That may be so. And if it does, then I have deciphered enough of this Severity field the Reapers have created to replicate it elsewhere. I already have a plan for that, and I hope you do as well."
"The Reapers should keep it occupied for a time if that happens. That was the whole reason they were created, after all. If that is all…" The batarian waited a beat, looking to the hanar. When no response came, he strode out the door. It shut behind him silently.
After a moment, two hanar entered from a side room. "Great One, your will?"
Katha's puppet turned to them. "I am done. Return this one to the nutrient bath for one hour, then stasis until I require his Voice again. Notify Delanyder and Farmas that we should prepare for conflict in the near future, and notify the Choirs of Birthing to increase reproduction rates to five hundred percent. Move to immediately begin construction of additional warships and make whatever gestures are needed to obtain the raw materials for that. Bring all thirty dreadnoughts out of deep suspension and get them crewed and ready for a fight no later than two long-callings from today."
After another moment, it continued. "Also, have Delanyder 'lose' some of the technology required for resonance shields and improved neutronium harvesting methods to the natives. The humans already discovered this process, and it is one of the few weapons that can injure both Reapers and the thralls of the Darkness, so making sure it is available to all is in our own benefit."
The two hanar pulsed. "Your will, Great One."
Even as they spoke, the hanar slowly slumped to the ground, its glow fading even as the two hanar picked its body up and carried it gently out of the room.
O-TWCD-O
Aethyta stared morosely at the bottle of Serrican Ice Brandy, then glanced up as the QEC lit.
The room she was in was different than the one she had her conversation with Trellani in, the matriarch claiming Harper needed to speak with her. Still richly appointed, but full of comm equipment, display haptics, and a giant illuminated plinth in the middle. She kinda half-ass understood how the QEC worked – all that mattered was that it was like talking to a real person, not a video screen.
She was a bit ambivalent about the part involving talking to him, as his reputation always reminded her of the Council of Matriarchs and their endless games of maneuvering.
She'd never been good at that shit, and after hearing Trellani's little confession, was not looking forward to whatever he was going to drop into the bay. She sat up straighter. "I'm here."
He nodded, taking a sip of something in a glass and placing a neutral smile on his lips. "So you are, Matriarch Vasir. Apologies for not being there in-person, but I had to transit back to my main base to deal with some other issues. I trust you and your team are well in a medical sense?"
She smiled bleakly. "Yeah, for whatever you can call 'well' – missing limbs, internal damage. Given the odds of what we were up against and how many Broker goons and ardats we faced, this was probably the hardest fight we ever had – and we're not as young as we used to be. I'm fucking astonished more of us didn't die."
Harper took another sip of his drink. "I'm sorry for those who did. And that is not merely words – each one of your Black Blades is a master at multiple forms of combat, well connected to the darker side of the galactic pulse, and hardened in ways even my top operatives can't fully match. I have experienced what it is like to lose those who have fought alongside you in adversity, and I struggle to grasp what it must have been like to lose one of your students."
Aethyta inclined her head a bit. "Heh. You aren't the bleak hardass I expected, but then again, never expected you to be nailing Trellani either." She exhaled. "All my life, I've either been a tool of powers beyond me, or fucking up everything around me with bad decisions. It has cost others and myself a lot of pain. The Black Blades and I did a lot of things that I don't regret from a moral… whatever, but from what it cost us in return."
She fished around in the slender pockets of her bodysuit, pulling out a packet of asari cigars. Lighting one with her omni, she looked up at Harper's image. "So, while I appreciate the words – and the sentiment that makes them not empty fishbits – the ugly truth is every last one of us no longer fears death. At least when we're dead we can't screw anything else up."
She shrugged. "Anyway. I doubt you needed to talk to tell me that… so what's up?"
Harper smiled. "Shepard did say you were always very direct." He put his cigarette out. "Just a few things. First, I'd like to thank you – and your Black Blades – for risking their lives and agreeing to help our organization. I've already had my lawyers start methods of blocking asari action against any of you. I've also dispatched some covert resources to recover any family members that the Blades left behind in Asari Space, if they so wish."
She pursed her lips. "Crennsa has a daughter, and Joha has a turian mate still on Thessia. The rest of my girls are either single with dead children… or their loved ones are out of the reach of the fucking Thirty. Still… appreciated. I'll let 'em know."
She sighed, then inhaled from her cigar. "As for joining you… like I said, I've either been a tool, or fucking things up. If I have no other way to be, I'd rather be the former doing some good, instead of the latter. And, not to ignore the relli in the pond, but we don't have a lot of choices, do we?"
He inclined his head. "Perhaps not. Your own, ah, viewpoints on the clanless and past acts make you very unpalatable to the clanless, and with Ilium destroyed and the rest of the semi-independent asari colonies heeling to the wishes of the Thirty, that only leaves either flight to the Alliance – which is fraught with its own issues – or returning to Omega."
His lips quirked. "That's part of the reason for this call. While I'm glad that working with Cerberus is the option you chose, I'm curious as to why they and you did not go back there. You were there for many years, after all, despite being obviously there to keep an eye on Aria. And it would put you beyond the reach of the Thirty."
She snorted. "It's kind of because of that, you see. That was the deal that Aria had with the Thirty. She let me and mine keep an eye on her and the Republic stopped trying to get her killed directly. As long as I was working for the Matriarchs, the bitch couldn't touch me without making the Thirty really push to get her wiped the fuck out. She needed time to build up her forces, and the Thirty needed her out of their fringe."
She put the cigar to her lips, exhaling smoke, a sour expression crossing her features. "But that agreement… lapsed when they thought I was dead. And Aria has a lot of reasons to hate me, more than anyone else. Going back to Omega would just end up with a lot of people dead, and I don't see the point in pushing the issue."
Harper nodded. "I'm curious as to exactly why that would be so. Which leads me to the second reason I wished to talk to you. Aria is going to be of a great deal of importance in the action against the Collectors… and we cannot afford to go in blind. The Collectors operate from the Omega-4 Relay, and I've made tentative agreements with her for us to have access when it comes time to strike. Even beyond that, I do not expect Cerberus to be welcomed by the greater Citadel nations, merely tolerated. Aria, thus, is the only good source of needed eezo for our group. And since we are operating in the Terminus, having a good relationship with her is vital.
"Unfortunately, the leader of my own effort in this regard is Shepard, who, as you no doubt know, doesn't like criminals, much less arch-criminals with ties to her own ruined past. It does not help at all that Aria is the leader of a vast criminal enterprise, and if my initial reports are correct, directly responsible for both the survival and the, ah, 'lapse' of Liara T'Soni and Telanya Vakarian. They don't appear to like her very much either, and thus I'm left with the problem that I need Aria, but I also need Shepard, and the latter would very much like to kill the former."
He drained his drink. "I'm going to have to convince Shepard to work with Aria at some point, and that's not going to go over well. I need something that makes her sympathetic. Or at least, tolerable in Shepard's eyes."
Aethyta tilted her head. "…I'm going to tell you a story, Mr. Harper." Puffing on the cigar, she chuckled. "It's a stupid story, really. A story of how the unofficial assassin of the Thirty was instrumental in changing history."
She told him, in blunt sentences, of the mission she'd received from Thana T'Armal, of the mess at the Academy of Power. Of how she'd injured Jona Sederis, crippled Wrex, and killed the lover – and the unborn child – of one Aleena T'Armal. She explained how Aleena had become Aria, how Aria had attempted to assassinate her own mother, how the conflict escalated and how – to drive the pain home – the Thirty had generously 'allowed' Aria to live, as long as she was monitored by the one force the Thirty didn't think she could defeat – Aethyta and her Black Blades.
She looked up at Harper once she was done. "Aria – a very long time ago – was a pure soul. Uressa wouldn't have chosen her if she wasn't. And as much grime, filth, pain, cruelty, and suffering that's been laid on Aria, I think some of that pure soul is still in there. She had every chance to kill – to kill me, or to kill Liara – and she didn't."
The matriarch lit another cigar, her first having been finished in the course of telling the story. "Bottom line, though, is that Aria is not some cool and collected master strategist. Oh, she seems that way – untouchable, impossible to shake – but that's just T'Armal spine for you. The truth is that Aria's been dancing on the razor's edge for centuries… and I think she's starting to get tired of having sliced up feet."
His eyes narrowed. "And from that…?" He trailed off, and she smiled.
"From that, you should understand the truth: she's scared out of her mind, but dangerous enough and charismatic enough people don't see it. She's in charge of the most dangerous place in the galaxy, and she can't afford even a single error. She's in command of the Circle of the Fallen, but each and every one of them would take her out in a heartbeat if they could get away with it. She's got a daughter she can't even talk to, family who want her dead, warlords who want her empire, and no one – absolutely no one – she can fully trust."
Jack Harper lit a fresh cigarette and leaned back in his chair, expression neutral and blank. "I see. This does explain why she was willing to work with us… and why she was so desperate to see the Broker brought down. But it raises other questions – if she was once the pure soul you claim, then her life must have broken her much as it has broken others. Would you say that Aria had a choice in what she's become?"
Aethyta shook her head. "No. All her life she's been shaped by things outside her control, and every attempt to break that fails. I'm sure a part of her is horrified by what Omega has become, but she can't stop it because she feels as if she's just another dart-fish in a shallow, narrow tank."
Harper smiled. "Thank you. That is what I needed to know, Matriarch Vasir." He puffed on the cigarette again. "If you, your people, or your daughters need anything, please let Miranda or Shepard herself know. And if you decide not working for Cerberus is how you'll go, Vigil will be able to set each of your Black Blades up with impenetrable false documents and enough cash to start a new life."
Aethyta's lips curled into something akin to a smile. "One or two might take you up on that. The rest won't. Like I said… better tools than fucking shit up. For the moment, the Blades follow me, and I am here for my daughters. If they're working with you, so are we. What happens next?"
Harper stood, the QEC image shimmering as he did so. "That's up to Shepard, but in the short-term, talking to the Citadel Council and then killing the Shadow Broker. I presume you would be interested in that operation?"
She smiled. "Only the last half. Anything else?"
He shook his head. "Thank you for your time, Matriarch Vasir."
O-TWCD-O
Shepard paced restlessly in the lavish area that served as the remote communications room on board the base, an area she was beginning to hate.
Tali and Kiala were seated behind her, the latter still in a lift chair after lengthy surgery due to her wounds. Both of them wore white and gold coat-cloaks that covered most of their upper bodies, each displaying the Cerberus logo. They were waiting to speak with the quarian representatives, a conversation she wasn't looking forward to.
To be honest, her heart wasn't much for any conversation, or in talking to most people. She would prefer talking to Liara, listening to Liara, just… being there for her. The idea her wife was alive, and she'd had less than two hours with her, was maddening.
But Miranda had dragged Liara back to Medical, as she still had multiple fractures and other injuries from the fight on Ilium that needed attention. For that matter, Shepard herself had more internal work to be done after the various meetings and calls were done, as there was still damage to her heart and liver from the impact of the aircar, as well as more rad-neutralizing nanites that had to be inserted.
She knew the rest of the team also had more medical work ahead – given they were planning to go after the Broker soon, everyone needed to be at one hundred percent – and the beating everyone had taken on Ilium wasn't something that could be walked off.
The dull, persistent pain in her chest on the right side, and the throb along her back, illustrated she wasn't healed either. Unfortunately, as she'd been warned, anything that got past the layers of myomer, armor, and other defenses to injure her internals was Bad News. Her right kidney was failing, according to the docs, and they'd probably have to go with cloned and augmented replacements on that and portions of her lower intestine.
Since flash-cloned organs didn't last very long – a few years at best – and bio-printed ones were even worse at handling cybernetic integration, she'd have to put up with the pain and additional medications until they could clone one using the normal growth cycles. She'd learned more about clone tech in the past month than she'd ever known her entire life, and all of it was vaguely distressing.
She broke that line of thought, sighing and glancing irritably at the screen again. "At least the fucking salarians were on time."
Kiala laughed bitterly. "The Admiralty is petty, Sha'isa." She used a quarian word that roughly translated to 'high captain,' a mark of respect that Shepard was not sure how she'd earned. "They will delay this call as long as possible without actually missing the deadline."
Shepard grunted, rubbing her finger along her jawline as she paced. The conversation with the salarians had gone surprisingly well, considering. The STG had apparently been busy working with the top salarian science institute, the Reach Research Compound, to determine if Shepard's resurrection was possible.
Given that it seemed to be, alongside the quiet words of Mordin Solus and Erash, the SIX were not inclined to squabble – especially when shown the stick of knowledge about their ALTERATION project and the carrot of the locations of the Black Rim Free Sexuality Movement's bases.
Shepard was still a mix of confused and amused that the salarians were so threatened by the idea of people deciding how they wanted to fuck and live their lives, but Erash's half-disgusted comments after the meeting had clarified it. Given the ratio of males-to-females in salarian society, the small family units or couples of the BRFS would cause the salarian population to shrink drastically, not to mention unseat entire portions of their society and economy.
Mordin had sourly chimed in that the bigger issue is that it removed the power from the coteries of breeding families and business interests that had turned reproduction in Salarian Space into a business. This in turn led to Erash and Mordin bickering over the morality of 'free choice' when it clashed with species imperatives, with the two arguing loudly as Mordin wheeled Erash's lift chair back to Medical.
She simply didn't get salarians, sometimes.
With the salarians, humans, and turians out of the way, and the asari scheduled to meet with them tomorrow when the Normandy set out for the Citadel, all that was left was to talk to the quarians… which was, she figured, not likely to go well at all.
Her thoughts were broken when the massive view screen in front of them finally lit up, displaying the Cerberus emblem before fading to black for several seconds. Then it displayed the insignia of the Quarian Admiralty, before blanking again.
Kiala muttered. "Here we go, sha-shian. Do not let your anger make you rash."
Tali gave a snicker. "This coming from you, of all people… but I will heed your words."
The blank screen flicked on and showed a simple, curved table in a room of bare metal paneling, lit from above by simple lighting and with a floor of ridged metal. At the table, in stiff looking chairs that matched their postures, were four quarians.
Two she recognized immediately – Thin'Koris, the quarian Citadel Councilor, and his brother Zaal'Koris. The third quarian – a female – she didn't know, and the one in the middle, she knew all too well.
She gave a shallow bow, her voice even. "Greetings, Admiral Rael'Zorah, Admiral Zaal'Koris, Councilor Thin'Koris. I'm afraid I don't know the last member of your group."
The quarian female tilted her head, eyes narrowed. "Nor should you. I am Yana'Kilis var Omega xai Scout Fleet… and the representative of Golo'Mekk."
Both Tali and Kiala tensed at that name, Kiala actually hissing. "Why in the name of the Ancestors is this criminal on board the flagship of the Fleet? Have you all gone mad?"
Rael was merely staring at the screen, but Zaal answered. "Hardly. Neither of your reik patterns are identifiable… you are unknown—"
He was cut off by Rael. "The one on the left is Tali. The one on the right, based on our reports, is Kiala'Shaal xai Scout Fleet. And complaints about criminals coming from an exile in league with Cerberus, that's hilarious." His voice was sharp and tight with emotion.
Shepard glanced around. "Ah, Yana. I'm not familiar with this… Golo'Mekk."
Tali spoke up before the other quarian could. "He's Aria's engineer, an outcast who blew up a Fleet ship and has sold quarians into slavery and experimented on them. He's as bad or worse as Cerberus used to be. Why would you even allow Golo – or his 'representative' – on the Fleet?"
Rael's eyes narrowed. "I'm not in the habit of explaining why the Admiralty does what it does. Suffice it to say Golo – despite who and what he is – has provided us with solutions to the problem organisms we found on the first colony world we were given, that will allow us to settle people there as well. What he has done in the past has not been forgotten, but we do not have so many allies or friends as to ignore such a contribution."
Kiala's voice was taut. "And the atrocities committed by this lunatic?"
Yana waved a hand. "All coolant in the bilge now, I assure you. Golo's focus and interest is in the domain of Aria and the Terminus Systems now, and his interest in the quarian people is mostly focused on the exiles. While I will certainly admit to tensions between my master and the Fleet, Golo is looking forward to representing Omega's exile population in talks with the Admiralty about Return."
Shepard arched an eyebrow. "That's great. But… why the fuck are you here in this meeting? This Golo clown sounds like the type of person I need to introduce to my ODIN, and I'm not exactly happy about catering to unexpected guests… especially from Aria, or her goons."
Again, Zaal spoke up. "Frankly, we trust Golo and Aria more than you. I'm sure that's very ironic to Kiala, given the cause of her exile, but Aria has gone out of her way to be… useful. None of us care what you think of her. You wanted to talk to us, we choose who you talk to, and if you dislike that, you may always close the comms channel."
His voice hardened. "We choose our own counsel to assist us with dealing with you for our own reasons. We have been dictated to by others long enough that I have no intention of tolerating such from someone associated with a pack of terrorists."
Rael gave a nod. "A good point. She is also here because we are somewhat concerned about your ultimate goals. You have killed at least one widely known and admired figure in Okeer for no good reason, you work with outright criminals such as Jack Harper and Trellani, and you have already orbitally bombarded one planet. We are insular by nature and ill-informed about some things in the greater galaxy, and Yana'Kilis is more familiar with both Cerberus and humans in general."
Shepard frowned and squared her shoulders, glancing aside at Kiala, who spoke. "You expect us to believe there are no other quarians in the Fleet who know how to deal with Cerberus?"
Rael'Zorah's voice had a note of satisfaction to it. "No, I believe we expect you to accept that our reasons are our own, and that we do not answer to you. Golo is a known factor – Yana'Kilis was exiled for other reasons and is hardly the same as Golo. Several Admirals refused to participate in this… talk… because you are associated with Cerberus. Should I hold you liable for all the crimes of that organization?"
Thin'Koris interjected. "This is a pointless argument and a waste of time. Shepard, I am not entirely happy about the situation either, but that is a quarian affair. Let us get to business – you had a purpose for this call, I presume?"
Shepard grimaced and nodded. "Alright. I don't like it, but unless it affects my own goals, I don't really care at this juncture. I called to try and make sure I can minimize the level of idiocy and stupidity when I hit the Citadel, and answer any questions I expect you would have about my return to life and intentions."
Yana shook her head. "Actually, I have already advised the Admiralty on this issue. Lady Aria had Golo conduct extensive scans and has done her own research. She's also been in contact with your Illusive Man and for the moment is convinced you are who you claim to be."
Shepard arched an eyebrow at that. "Well, that's news to me."
Rael shot the female a look, and she cringed slightly. Turning back to face the viewscreen, his voice was dryly sardonic. "Perhaps you should have a talk with your master regarding his intentions towards Aria."
She gritted her teeth. "Harper had to talk to her for us to get on Omega. If it went further than that, I wasn't told. Then again, he likes to play mind games. What's the long and short of all of this, anyway?"
Zaal's voice was calm as he spoke. "Merely that, as Yana said, we believe you are who you claim to be. Unlike the other Council races, we find it illogical and unlikely for this to be a trick. Vigil creates certain electromagnetic spike effects whenever he does his manipulations, and our sensor suites at the Citadel are isolated and especially tuned to detect such… tricks. So, if you still agree to go through the bio-scans, Cerberus would be a fool to send something that would fail said tests."
He spread his hands. "Furthermore, from what we know of you, and the reveal of your companions as your former friends and wife, it is… unlikely that you could be an impostor. Given how effectively you took the fight to the geth, we are rather relieved that you are back."
Shepard snorted. "Interesting. And also good. I've had to use blackmail and leverage on the salarians and turians, not to mention my own people, just to get them to fucking listen. Given we really don't have anything bad on you guys, that wouldn't work."
Yana half turned her head to Thin'Koris, who made a disgusted noise and dropped a stack of credit chits into her upturned palm. She gave a sultry laugh and turned back to the screen. "We had a bet that you prepared such things against us, and I said you would not find much if anything at all."
Tali's eyes narrowed. "We knew the truth about the geth and quarians on Rannoch long before Shepard died."
Rael's voice was amused. "And what good will that do? Admit the Systems Alliance – and Shepard – lied to the Council about what was found? We do not engage in the sick shadow wars and manipulations of the other Council races – what happened on Rannoch was not only ancient history but dealt with harshly by our own people long ago."
Shepard shrugged. "Like I said, I'm relieved that you're being sensible, at least in this aspect. We do have something, but not negative. The, ah, process by which I was restored to life required both a great deal of bionetic as well as cybernetic technology, as well as genetic restoration and other technologies. Some of those technologies could be very useful for your people and your ability to fix your immune issues."
She gestured to Tali and Kiala. "As you can see, my friends have seen hard battle. We have very detailed records and medical data on cybernetic implants – designed by Vigil – as well as cybernetic filtering systems that can cut suit-breach reaction severity by at least half."
Folding her arms, she smiled. "On top of that, I can guarantee you letting the geth run around after the shit they just pulled on Ilium isn't going to last much longer. Kiala and Tali tell me that there must be a central base or station these geth are operating from. Once I find wherever they're hiding out at in the Veil, I'll be happy to blow it the hell up."
Thin'Koris nodded. "And in return, I presume, you want something from us?"
She sighed. "I need support when I go in front of the Council, and a free hand to deal with the Collectors. I assure you, they're working for the Reapers, and letting them kidnap people is not going to end well for any of us. Additionally, I'd like to draw on your Scouting Fleet's scans – I'm looking for some old alien ruins probably overlooked by Prothean loot monkeys that might help us in the long-run."
Rael finally spoke again, his voice hard. "That's all? No appeals for removals of exiles? No requests for 'apologies'?"
Tali glared at her father. "No. Neither Kiala or I would want to come back to the Fleet, much less whatever militaristic hellhole you've turned our new colony into. The only thing we'd want along those lines is an offer for any more exiles you decide to throw away to come work for us, rather than risking living in places like Omega… or worse."
Kiala's voice had an edge to it. "Make no mistake, Admirals. Shepard is not being 'polite' – you simply have almost nothing we need."
Zaal sighed. "Kiala'Shaal, there is no need for acrimony. Your situation was, perhaps, unfortunate – but in the fullness of time things worked out."
Kiala shook her head. "The name is Kiala'Dost, now. And really? The quarians were dying by inches, and refusing to simply join with Aria left us with no options. If Tali had not been on Shepard's ship, you know full well Han couldn't have convinced the rest of the fleet to go in like they did. We'd still be on the outside, helpless. And to top it all off you're dealing with Aria now, through backchannels!"
Shepard raised a hand. "Didn't come to air out grievances. All I'm asking for, again, is the freedom to do what is needed and what the Council and various races won't do."
Thin'Koris nodded slowly. "This is what I have already suggested to the Council, so following up on that should not be difficult. But I have to ask… what then?"
The Quarian Councilor stood from the table, arms spread. "Assume you defeat these Collectors, and derail whatever plan they have. The Shadow Broker suggests we have centuries until these Reapers show up. We seem to have the luxury of time."
Shepard shook her head. "No, we don't. I'll go over this more when we meet on the Citadel, but the Broker is either lying or being misinformed. Vigil and the Inusannon watched several cycles of the Reapers doing their thing, and it's clear they can move a hell of a lot faster than we can. We need to prepare for the threat now – it won't be centuries, or even decades. It will be in as little as six to ten years – maybe even less than that."
She exhaled. "As for the plan, that's better discussed with all of the Council and the racial leaders at the Citadel."
Thin'Koris sat back down and looked at Rael'Zorah, who made a gesture with his hands. "As long as you promise to get rid of the geth or at least cripple them, I see no reason why we cannot cooperate in this instance, Shepard." The glowing eyes narrowed. "I am somewhat concerned regarding the goals of Cerberus in the long-run. While your own attitude towards criminals is well-known, Cerberus's past actions cannot simply be overlooked. Additionally, Yana has shared some disturbing information with us."
Shepard rolled her eyes. "I'm sure. She works for a guy who is a sick fuck by your own admission, and one who works for Aria – clearly a great gal. But hey, let's listen to that. What exactly is 'disturbing' you?"
Yana leaned back in her chair. "First, the Illusive Man and his goals. There is a concern, given the… actions he has taken in the past, that his long-term plans may be to take advantage of your representation to obtain legitimacy. It does not matter if he has discontinued what Cerberus did in the past with this new iteration, he remains dangerous."
Shepard shrugged. "Okay, I can see that. I'll tell you what I told him, and the people who joined up with me – Harper gets one shot. The first time he lies to me, or does some stupid shit behind my back, he's dead. That being said, he's the only one who seems to be taking the Reaper threat seriously aside from the turians… and more importantly, the only one who sees the Broker as a fucking menace."
Yana inclined her head. "Perhaps. An extension of this is, of course, the fact that your group seems to employ a great many people with… mm… issues with the races of the Citadel. Doctor Mordin Solus is widely known as having rejected the STG and his own family to become Lythari. You have a pair of exiles on your staff, one of whom shot an Admiral. Liara T'Soni is known to be estranged from the Thirty—"
Shepard held up a hand. "I'll stop you right there. First, the next time you mention my people as something negative, I'll take my chances with letting the Council know the truth about Rannoch. Don't fuck with me, you won't like what happens. Second, you're actually gonna sit here – some fucking gangbanging piece of shit from Omega – and lambast my people?"
She folded her arms. "Look. I need people to listen to me, so we don't all end up fucking dead. In case you missed it, the rest of the galaxy is still drinking idiot ball tea, experimenting on their own people – or straight up murdering them – and other ignorant shit. I don't keep people like Tali or Mordin or Kiala or my wife around to piss the other races off, I keep them around because they're the only ones I can deal with and not want to kill for being criminal pieces of filth."
She leaned forward. "More to the point, so the fuck what? The Citadel Council let people like Tetrimus and Tazzik operate in Citadel Space, even though they were murderers and worse. They actually admired that sick fuck Doctor Okeer – and so did you it sounds like. As for Tali, I've heard what went down. If that's the basis of your dislike, I really don't recommend you pursue that angle as something to criticize."
She folded her arms. "That it?"
Yana shrugged, but Rael spoke. "No. There is also the issue of Vigil and his capabilities. It is not exactly comforting that such a powerful device is in the hands of an admitted racist terrorist. It has been suggested that the device be seized and utilized by the Council, with appropriate guidance." He gestured. "Thin'Koris has stated that isn't possible, but leaving an AI to run about and do as it pleases is a bad idea, and it's far more likely to be of more use with those with more circumspection than Harper."
Shepard stared at the screen for a second, and then she, Tali, and Kiala all broke into laughter. She got control of herself a few seconds later, shaking her head as she chuckled. "I'd like to see that, I really would. Tell you what, you figure out how to 'seize' a teleporting AI picotech entity with multiple subunits and God knows what else, and I'll stand back and eat popcorn as you try it."
Tali spoke. "Vigil is not just an AI, it is also very dangerous – and it chose to work with Cerberus rather than any other group for reasons of its own. It is not some piece of gear for some Techmarine to appropriate."
Shepard leaned back on one leg, arms folded. "Is there anything else, or will I see you on the Citadel?"
Rael stood. "That will be all. As I am occupied, we will be sending Thin'Koris and Zaal'Koris to attend. Fleet out."
The signal cut abruptly, and Shepard exhaled softly.
Kiala spat a quarian curse and rubbed the back of her neck. "Gods and spirits, the shit-for-brains Admiralty is actually working with fucking Golo. There must be more to this deal, this is the same as a High Lord of Sol suddenly deciding to do business with street gangs."
Shepard turned to face her. "I kinda got that feeling. I know Aria's a piece of shit who runs a lot of piracy and slaver groups, but who exactly is this Golo guy?"
Tali's voice was almost as sour as Kiala's. "Golo was… an engineer. He was highly regarded for some time, but then he had some kind of suit accident or breach. A short time later, he went, well, crazy. He blew up his own ship and escaped in a ship he stole, then started working for Aria at some point. He's a murdering clonelegger, a drug dealer, and a filthy j'vesa who would murder a child for money."
Kiala nodded. "Yes. Most exiles, like myself, are bitter at the short-sighted idiocy of the Admiralty and the Fleet, but we scarcely want anything bad to happen to our people. Golo, on the other hand, has murdered untold numbers of quarians – including kids on Pilgrimage and other exiles – out of spite."
Tali spoke up. "Hey… rumor used to say Golo was tight with Okeer – maybe he can tell you something, whenever Grunt goes to sleep."
Shepard smiled. "Good thinking, Tali. Anyway… you two good? Dost okay?"
Kiala winced. "I have been sidelined from the fighting. Took way too many shots down there on Ilium… if not for your doctors I might not walk again. Dost is having his leg done today, they had to drill out the bone and reset the hip or something along those lines. Other than the pain and dealing with the cybernetic prep drugs, I am fine."
Tali shrugged. "I'm okay, Sara. I didn't lose any more limbs, so… yay?"
Shepard laughed at that, then frowned. "Ladies, thanks for helping out with this. I gotta talk to TIM, though, so I'll catch up with you later."
It only took a few minutes to walk to the QEC room and hit the call button, and in moments, the image of Jack Harper was in front of her, dressed in a long burgundy coat with ribbon tie and black slacks, not smoking for once. "Shepard. I presume your communications with the salarians and quarians went well?"
She frowned. "Sort of? Salarians were stupid as fuck, but eventually shut up. The quarians said you were talking with Aria… and somehow that convinced them I am who I say I am. Is there something I need to know?"
Harper sighed. "I was in contact with Aria indirectly through an acquaintance of mine, a friend from Shanxi named Ryan Vaught. Through this communication we were able to come to an agreement that – assuming we find a way to do so – once we need to access the Omega-4 Relay, Aria would allow us to do so."
He lit a cigarette, puffing out smoke. "She's willing to sell out the locations and vulnerabilities of the various slaver networks not in her territory and to do her best to disrupt and destroy Hades in return for us not operating against her Circle of the Fallen and her territory. While I'm aware of your dislike for Aria, that can be handled at a time when things are not so dire."
She nodded slowly. "I don't expect you to tell me everything you get up to, but having the quarians drop that on me out of the blue was a surprise." She waved a hand in irritation. "Whatever. As soon as that bitch isn't useful, she's dead."
Harper smiled. "I have no direct objections to that, and I while I doubt the Citadel Council would be unhappy either, I do have concerns about the long-term ramifications for the society Aria has assembled." He paused, then smiled. "That being said…"
He regarded her for a moment, the blue circles in his eyes rotating.
"I dislike wasting useful tools, Shepard. While Aria certainly earned your enmity, there are things about her that might nuance your thinking in regards to destroying her outright, and possibilities you have not thought to explore."
She crossed her arms "Such as what? Does she pet small children in her down time, or donate to the fucking poor? And given how much damage the bitch has caused, why should I bother worrying about shit like that?"
Harper's expression didn't flicker. "I'm not sure that it is for me to say. Rather, you might want to ask Aethyta. I'll preempt you asking why by expanding on what I mean, and why I say it."
He tapped his cigarette lightly.
"There are two reasons. One is largely what you might call 'educational.' I have important expectations for you, Shepard, and as you will soon realize, your personal life and beliefs have now become political. Whether you like it or not, your actions and opinions will decisively impact the lives of billions in the years to come. You cannot allow these feelings to influence your actions without reflecting upon them… much like my dislike for turians is no obstacle for me to work with them, if you like. In the balance of things, you cannot afford to let such dislikes turn away potential allies and useful contacts out of distaste for what they do."
She almost snarled. "I'm willing to bite my tongue about a lot of shit, but Aria is directly responsible for the crap pulled by the bitch of an asari who sold me to batarian sex-show assholes. I'm already having to give the fucking High Lords a pass, the goddamned 'let's fucking murder everything' salarians a pass, and I already stopped myself from killing that bitch on the way out of Omega." She exhaled. "I get what you're saying. But you didn't bring me back for me to fucking compromise everything I am."
He shook his head. "No, I didn't. However, I don't think that you're looking at this from the correct angle, and that while you have no respect for 'law,' you do care about justice and the people who are inevitably hurt by such chaos as would result from you killing her. Which leads me nicely into my second point – I think you should reconsider how you feel and what you plan to do with Aria because you are beginning to realize that concepts like 'guilt,' 'innocence,' and most of all 'responsibility' are complicated, as seen with both Archangel's few excesses and the Sisters of Vengeance's many mistakes."
He paused, and Sara knew that the bastard had a good point when it came to Liara, Telanya, and Garrus. She didn't have a good place to argue from even, as Garrus and Liara both had evinced surprise she would tolerate such things.
She couldn't deny his point, if only because she was so compromised and broken that she couldn't afford to let Liara go, or chastise Garrus. And the ugly truth was that she had broken her own rules more than once.
She looked away, and his voice was calm. "It is easy to say evil must be punished, that the guilty must stand for their crimes. But it is more nuanced than that. You could say that Aria's crimes are wider, more long-term, than Liara's are. But how can you justify that one must be punished, and the other protected, Shepard?"
He ground the edge of the ashes off of his cigarette, his voice softer as he continued. "If nothing else, I have learned in my own life that enemies are still people – and that judgments involving death cannot be taken back if made in error. I have already gone too far and alienated those I did not have to – don't make the mistake of rationalizing the vile acts of those you support and ignoring the consequences away."
She folded her arms. "This is absolutely hilarious. You, Jack Harper, instructing me in morality."
He leaned back in his chair, tilting his head. "I suppose I am. My lessons and yours were both learned on the streets in our youth, but I'll be the first to admit mine were not as hard as yours. I do grasp why you hate Aria. I am merely asking you to think about it, and to talk to Aethyta first to get the details. If my information is correct… Aria is almost as much a victim if not more than anyone else."
Shepard narrowed her eyes. "I'll think about it… but don't think I haven't noticed the part where you didn't actually answer my question — about why I should bother doing this. Why you want me to think about it is clear, but not the why."
The Illusive Man smiled. "You should do it to understand that you have power in your actions. In this, I'm reminding you that you are not automatically correct – that, because of the pain you've suffered, you have a tendency towards snap judgments, and your past agonies have made you uniquely vulnerable to self-righteousness."
She scoffed. "And you aren't?"
Harper actually laughed. "I of all people am hardly immune to such things. I already admitted to that, in the aftermath of BENEDICT, and when we first woke you from death. I am no better at this than you, but I had a voice whispering in my ear to remind me that I was mortal."
He took a puff from his cigarette. "Which is why I'm reminding you as well. As I said in our earlier conversation, I need you to be ready to rein me in – or my successor – before we do something unwise, and preferably in a fashion other than letting your shotgun do the talking."
He rested one finger against his temple. "I cannot fathom my old friend Petrovsky not raising concerns along this line, but he's as… compromised as I am, or Trellani." He shifted in his chair. "I suppose that's a good third reason: if you are willing to reflect on the failures and guilt of others and not react with death and ruin, it is much more likely I am not going to be killed by you, which is not an experience I look forward to."
Shepard laughed at that. "I'm not… blind. I'm sure some of the people I've killed didn't deserve all of it, but they were involved in things that had no excuse. So were you, but you had come through Shanxi and you'd seen the shit the aliens were pulling. You let it get too far, and we all nearly paid the price… but you stopped the bullshit at the last second."
She folded her arms. "Warden Kuril told me once there were two kinds of criminals – those who didn't know any better and no other way to live, and those who knew better but thought they were smart enough to get away with it. If Aria is the first type, then maybe I'll think about it."
The Illusive Man smiled again. "And don't I fall into the second type?"
She nodded. "Yet at some point you stopped thinking you were smart enough to get away with it, which is rare." She sighed. "I don't like working with you, but you haven't done anything yet to prove me wrong and it's stupid to keep being suspicious when everyone else is doing all kinds of wrong shit without a hint of remorse. You had the balls to fix what you did, they didn't. As I said, I'll think about it."
She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Are we done here, Jack?"
"You tell me." His voice was wry as he blew out smoke.
She thought, then shook her head. "…No. There's also that quarian, Golo'Mekk. He wasn't there, but his representative was. I'll get Miri to send you the recording, but does the name ring any bells? "
Harper immediately stiffened and sat forward. "Golo, the 'Engineer of Omega'? The Quarian Admiralty is dealing with Golo directly? Did they give a reason why?"
She shook her head, not liking his tone of voice. That sounded like Very Bad News. "Not a clear one. Tali and Kiala were pretty pissed. I'm guessing this guy is bad news?"
Harper was silent for a moment, taking a drag on his cigarette before nodding. "Golo'Mekk is, or was, reviled more highly than any other exile in the quarian race, and is the only known quarian who regularly killed or kidnapped other quarians. He's been building a power base on Omega from bitter exiles, and he routinely produced somewhat unsettling technology for Aria and… other parties."
His voice dipped. "For the Admirals to reach out to him and work with him indicates something of great importance has shifted within the Admiralty. We've contacted him from time to time ourselves, to find information on Omega and the quarians. He is an avowed enemy of the Broker, which made him a useful resource, but dangerous nonetheless."
He looked at Shepard. "Unless our intel is badly off, the only one of the Admirals willing to talk to him was Daro'Xen, the quarian science leader. She was… in an incident where some of the technologies he pioneered saved her life, and she's not one to shy away from taking risks. If she's come into more power among the Admirals, it is a concerning choice. Have Kiala come to the QEC and call me, I need to think on this."
Shepard nodded. "Alright. We're finishing up the medical stuff tonight, and we'll be ready to head out to the Citadel and meeting with the asari on the way in the morning. What time do you want to have this briefing you mentioned?"
"0900 local. It will not take long, but there are some developments you need to be made aware of… and some preparations made before you arrive at the Citadel to ensure we're sending the correct message."
She arched an eyebrow, but nodded. "Alright. I'll see you then."
She clicked off, then sighed to herself.
She could hardly expect Harper to detail out every action he was up to, and she suspected he did quite a bit behind her back in terms of financial crap and intel work. She didn't like the idea of working with Aria, but it didn't make sense to piss on her before she dealt with the Collectors, on that she could agree.
After… well, Harper didn't seem to care, and like he said, the Council would be happy. She'd have to talk to Garrus about how to go about that, as she was sure he had at least a few ideas.
For now… she could finally sit down and talk with Liara. With a smile on her lips, she left the QEC room.
O-TWCD-O
"Follow the light, please." Doctor Sedanya passed the pin-light from hand to hand, and Telanya dutifully followed it with her eyes, until it was cut off. "Good. Any nausea or dizziness?"
Tel shook her head. "No. Except for the pain, I'm fine…"
Sedanya straightened, tapping something into her omni-tool. "Good, good. Let me just update this and we can get you out of Medical. I'm sure you'll be happy to get out of here and have a real meal, but we wanted to be careful given your injuries."
She walked over to her desk unit set into the nearest wall, tapping away at the haptic keyboard there as Telanya slumped back into the lift chair. After a moment, she grimaced. "Doctor… you were in the Clans, right?"
Sedanya nodded, her voice a touch acerbic. "Yes, for most of my life. After meeting my mate and being told she wasn't acceptable, however, I left. There was some… trouble with that, but Hearthwatch was no longer my home. So, I left. At the time, I felt I might be making a mistake, but the Alliance welcomed us and made us feel… comfortable."
The asari doctor finished and turned to face Telanya. "Then the Alliance, where I had come to live and to serve, decided the life of my mate wasn't worth the money to treat her, so I left them and joined Cerberus. It probably seems very mercenary to you… which is no doubt my wife's fault, given how drell look at mercenary service."
Tel gave a wan smile. "Maybe. Just…" She trailed off, then sat up straight. "Melenis was in the Clans too. I am trying to understand her. I'm trying to understand why she isn't… why she hasn't acted more upset at this whole mess."
Sedanya smirked. "You mean the situation with you and Garrus? Not really seeing the problem here, you know. Is she that off-putting to you that a shana-thee is out of the question?" She used an asari term defining having one alien mate and two asari as a common sort of dodge around the restrictions on asari-asari bondings.
Telanya coughed. "That… no. I mean… I'm not interested in her at all, but that doesn't mean I'd rule it out. Goddess knows I've slept around with enough other people. I've… avoided asari links for a long time, since I was attacked by an ardat."
The doctor winced. "I can see that… so why the interest in asking about the Clans, instead of just dealing with her?"
Telanya shrugged. "Because it doesn't make sense! A clanless wouldn't throw away a chance at a loving mate to let an older partner have them instead. I don't understand why she hasn't just told him to let me go, since he seems to be unable to do so, and instead spent time trying to convince me to be with him again."
Sedanya sighed. "I don't think that's a Clan thing… although, I will admit, Clan asari are more used to being told how to bond and who to do it with than making terms. I think this is just her personality. While she is very empathetic and obviously a caring person, Melenis strikes me as the kind of person who always means well, but does not consider the long-term ramifications of her actions. From the little I have discussed this with Shepard and Garrus, she's made more than one bad blunder – and certainly has more blood on her hands than almost anyone else here outside of Shepard. That kind of weight tears at your mind. She may not think she is any more worthy of him than you, and at least you had first claim."
The asari doctor leaned against the wall. "But being Clan doesn't change that. The only difference is you don't have some disapproving old bitch tell you who to sleep with and that you get treated like crap by everyone instead of almost everyone."
Tel's smile widened at that. "Ha. Maybe the Clans have a better idea than the clanless, since we spend most of our youth running around melding everything we can see looking for a way out of poverty or just being a drudge. If I had been more… circumspect in my misspent youth, I'd not have ended up like this."
Sedanya clucked, making a sign of siari negation. "Dwelling on the spent waves is to chase something that can never be recalled. As for Melenis… if she honestly thought she was better for Garrus than you, I do not think she'd have made such an offer. It takes both a great deal of mental and emotional strength to do that… as well as a caring heart."
The doctor attached a medical package to Tel's arm, and smiled. "Either way, I'll say this: Garrus is stubborn from what I've heard, and you shouldn't assume he will just shut you out. Give things a chance."
Tel gave her an uncertain look, then sighed. "I'll… see what happens. Is that it?"
Sedanya nodded, adjusting the package with a few taps. "Yep. Come back if the package displays any red alerts – but you should be fine and you're free to go."
The door into Medical slid open, revealing Garrus as he walked through, slowly coming to a stop. "Doc, you messaged me…?"
Sedanya gestured to Telanya. "Yes. Your wife is clear of medical… for now. She's still got internal injuries, but we have everything patched up or wrapped in medi-gel suspension tapes, and she's got two nanite medical packages dealing with that. She's still slightly concussed, but we removed the bone fragment and there's no lasting brain damage. We have her in a lift chair due to her still having fractures in both legs, but that should heal up by the morning if she goes to sleep with the bone regeneration sleeves on – they're in her quarters, by the way."
Garrus looked at Tel and nodded, walking forward. "She's going to be okay on the Citadel then? Lot of walking and crowds involved there, and I don't want her to get hurt. Should we take the lift chair?"
Sedanya shrugged. "If she still experiences pain when walking tomorrow morning, I'd take it. Otherwise, she should be fine – she can use her biotics to lighten weight when walking if that helps."
Garrus nodded, taking hold of the lift chair. "Thanks, doc." He pushed it out of Medical and down the long corridor toward the elevators, finally speaking after a few moments. "How are you feeling?"
Telanya considered the question. "My legs hurt, so does my head. Where is Lady Liara?"
Garrus sighed. "Medical follow-up with the cyberdocs from what Sara said. She took a lot more damage from that tech-mine to her legs, and had other injuries as well." He paused. "But that wasn't really what I meant about how you feel, Tel."
She grimaced. "How am I supposed to feel, Garrus? Overjoyed?"
The turian's hands tightened around the handlebars. "Look, Tel, if this is about Melenis—"
She gritted her teeth. "It's not. By the Goddess, you've seen enough turians or humans with more than one asari. I'm not super happy about it, but we… talked. She and I. And then I talked to the doc. I'm… I don't know." She paused, then spoke in a lower tone. "You never bonded with her, right?"
Garrus sighed. "I couldn't… bring myself to. Sex and linking was… even that felt like betrayal."
She heard the pain in his voice and shook her head. "Even though you thought I was dead?"
His voice warbled slightly, and she heard the click of mandibles. "I was supposed to protect you, to keep you safe. I fucked that up. I got you killed, I thought. How in the fuck could I do that to myself, or anyone else, again, when I thought we were all going to die on Omega? I didn't…"
He trailed off. "She'd been trying to get closer to me for months, and… I never let anything happen. And then we survived… and I didn't know what the fuck to do. I'd survived. Mel had survived. You were dead. So, we had one night… when I thought I might die again. And then we didn't die… and then we came to Ilium."
"And then I wasn't dead."
Garrus nodded. "And then you weren't dead, and then they didn't know if you'd make it, and when you woke up…"
The elevator hissed open, and he pushed the lift chair in. "Habitation, B deck" he spoke aloud, and then turned to face her.
He had new scars, she noticed once more, dark and ugly against the side of his face. He almost looked as if he was bracing for something to hit him… and she hated herself even more. "Garrus, listen to me. I'm not… upset because of her. I've told you that sex isn't much more for us than it is for turians, but you didn't bond with her because of me – and that just means I've kept on hurting you even when you thought I was dead."
He opened his mouth, eyes widening, but she cut him off. "No, listen. I'm… upset because I know what I've done over the past two years. I've become a murderer, a monster, a person who killed indiscriminately out of anger and rage. It doesn't matter that maybe Ilium was filled with monsters, or we did good things at times, or that I was fighting an enemy that we couldn't afford decency with."
She smiled. "I know that you're telling yourself you can deal with that. But all I've done, my entire time with you, is hurt you. I lost you a chance at Special Response, being with me made your family have to go with someone else for an heir, I caused friction between you and your father, our relationship made Pallin not want us working together – the list goes on and on. Even in dying I did nothing but ruin you."
She took his hand in hers. "Now you want me to walk back into your life… and poison you with the shit I've done, the crimes I've committed? You want me to drag you with me, instead of letting you try to rebuild a life with Melenis, who has spent centuries doing good to amend for one mistake?"
Garrus looked up as the elevator stopped and the door opened, and he pushed the chair along the corridor. "…You never think of yourself, when you feel like this. I'm not going to walk away, regardless of the things it may or may not cost me, Tel. You're my wife. My whole reason and drive for fighting as hard as I did was to get revenge, and now you're back and I'm not letting go."
She slumped. "…It will only hurt you more."
He stopped at a door, which slid open silently, and he entered the room. A hammock, a slid-open closet full of turian clothing, guns hung on the wall… she frowned. "Garrus, this is your room."
He stopped the lift chair and came around the front of it, picking her up. "No, it's our room." He laid her gently on the couch, then crouched down in front of her, staring into her eyes. "I know. Liara talked to me some before you woke up, and Cerberus intel kept tabs on you both. I know you both started out trying to do the right thing, and I know you fell off the path. I know you killed a lot of people that didn't need to be, and some of them weren't guilty of anything but living on a shithole planet."
He took her hand. "I also know you hate yourself for it, don't you?"
She screamed. "Yes! Of course I fucking do! I didn't want to, but…" She broke off, wiping her eyes. "Why would you want to… to…?"
His voice was gentle. "Love… criminals and monsters don't regret their actions, don't tear themselves up over the people they killed, don't rip themselves to pieces or deny themselves healing and forgiveness out of guilt. You made mistakes, yeah. So did I. So did Shepard. For that matter, so did Jack Harper, on a scale that makes all of us look like amateurs, killing hundreds of thousands of aliens and doing vile experiments. Shepard gives everyone a chance to change themselves."
She looked up. "She gave me one already, remember?"
He smiled. "She gave me one too. And she gave me another, when I admitted to fucking up an op on Omega that killed children. Besides, that counter reset when Shepard died."
She surprised herself by giving a little laugh at that, then shook her head. "Garrus…"
He cut her off. "Tel. I can't change or undo what I've done. Nor can you. No one can – Melenis, I know, has spent a long time trying to atone for what she did, and she thinks I don't know about it – but I do." He shrugged. "We can only be…"
He paused. "Shepard said Mordin told her something. That even if everything is shades of gray, the only thing we can do is pick the brightest one and make it brighter. I can't do much to fix the universe, and I can only kill one bad guy at a time. I can't fix everything wrong with society, or the people who get hurt. I can't fix the fact that we all have damage and scars."
He traced her cheek with his hand. "But I can fix you, like I always do."
She felt something inside her buckle and fall away at that, and she leaned against his hand. "And if you get hurt again? Garrus… I want nothing more than to pretend all of this… the past two years, the pain, the… mistakes… didn't happen. But it did. And it doesn't make sense for you to take that onto yourself if we bond."
He lifted her chin, and his good eye was steady. "Love isn't supposed to make sense. Someone told me that once, when I was wanting to give up and die. And she was right." He interlaced his free hand with hers, talons carefully slipping between fingers, and just looked at her. "I can't do anything on my own, Tel."
She stared at the hand, then at Garrus, then sighed and gave him a crooked, rueful smile. "If you weren't so… you…" She shook her head, then swallowed and bit her lip. "…you're sure you're ready to see this?"
Garrus picked her up from the couch, and then carried her over to the hammock, stepping into it and settling her on top of him, hands still linked. "Only one way to find out, isn't there?"
O-TWCD-O
Nassana Dantius was curious as to exactly where the Broker's people were taking her.
Since the flight from Ilium, she'd changed ships three times – once at Vol Prime, again at some kind of fueling stop in the Silver Rim, and once more in an uninhabited system. The ship she was on had the feel of a turian cruiser of some kind, done in dark black metal, accents of carbon fiber and tappi wood, and with a crew of black-suited salarians.
Her own security team of six people was still with her, but the rest of the Broker's various surviving security teams and the Immutable had gotten off the ship at Vol Prime and she'd not seen them since. Asking the Captain of this ship – a surly salarian with a single cybernetic eye and a sour disposition – only resulted in the answer of 'we'll be at our destination soon and all questions will be answered then.'
Hardly reassuring.
Then again, if they were going to kill her, they'd have done it already, she figured.
It was worth the risk. She had no other way off of Ilium, after all, and was the clear target of the Asari Republic – leaving with the Broker's people had been her only option. Fleeing to Omega was a possibility, but given her idiotic sister was still alive somewhere, that was risky. She wasn't sure how her sister had survived her plot to get rid of her, but it was best not to take chances.
And if she could sell her skillsets and contacts and leverage a place in the Network, she could start anew with more power than she had on Ilium. Being a part of the Broker Network would open doors long shut to her, both due to the meddling of her estranged sister and the stigma of being a clanless. While she might have to drop out of the public eye for a decade or two, she could rebrand and rebuild with the Broker's backing and become something incredible.
The Thirty could cling to their power – she knew things no one else could fathom, things to hurt them.
Her mind turned to the memory she had of the cave, of the truths revealed to her there. The truth of the asari people, of the plan to combat the Reapers, the truth of the Silent Queen, and of the troubling and horrific acts of the Thirty. She'd sold part of that information to Thessial of the Steelshape Clans, and parts of it to Aria as well, but the majority was still a secret she wasn't sure what to do with. It was obvious now what probably drove Matriarch Trellani to insanity if she'd found out even part of this information, even aside from the other things Dilinaga had left behind.
On reflection, perhaps Trellani had a point. She mused on this, and on the rumors that Trellani was involved with Cerberus. She had to break off the thought as the door chimed. "Enter!"
She shifted in her chair as the door to her quarters opened, revealing the black uniform and cool gaze of the salarian Captain. "Cena Dantius… we have arrived. Please, follow me."
She rose, glancing at her own Guard Captain. "What about my guards?"
The salarian gave a thin smile. "They can rest in the barracks we have, and if they need medical treatment that will be provided as well." He turned, and she followed, biting her lip as they walked down the main corridor of the ship.
The corridor ended in an open airlock, connected to a transit tube, and the Captain continued through it. Nassana glanced around, taking in the details – the tube had only thin slits for windows, but she could see glimpses of a gas giant and some kind of massive vessel they had docked to.
"Is this some sort of… station?" she asked as they exited the tube into a hallway of black metal and dim overhead lights, with deep black wood trim along the walls.
The salarian shook his head, tapping a keycode sequence into a keypad on a wall. "No. A warship of sorts. All will be explained momentarily; the Broker is sending his most trusted subordinate to debrief you."
He finished tapping in the code, and a portion of the wall buckled and swung away. He turned to face her. "The ship is riddled with secret passages – the main corridors are heavily trapped and lead only to ambush points for the ship security teams to crush intruders. I must return to my vessel, but after your debriefing there will be a guide – to take you to see the Broker himself – a rare honor."
She smiled at that. "Thank you for conveying me here, Captain…?" She trailed off, and the salarian merely bowed.
"Names are a danger in the Network, Cena Dantius. I would advise you to prepare to divest yourself of yours. Merely call me 'Captain Circle,' if you must reference me. I wish you well." He strode off, and she sighed and stepped into the room he'd opened up.
It was a large room, a good twenty meters to the side, and contained a pair of luxurious leather chairs flanking a small table with a bottle of South Serrican icewine and two glasses. The walls were more dark black steel. The floor, carbon-fiber with insets of black carpeting around the chairs.
She stepped further into the room, giving a little jump when the heavy wall slid back into place behind her, and walked forward slowly into the room. She sat down in one of the chairs, and as she did so, a heavy metallic door on the far wall opened, revealing another blackened corridor.
A robotic-sounding voice spoke. "Please wait here, Cena Dantius."
Feeling a touch uneasy, she leaned back in the comfortable chair, glancing around and waiting. She assumed someone was going to come through the door – the Broker himself or possibly herself, depending. She went over her pitch in her head, thinking of how to prove to the Shadow Broker she was an asset with use, even after the loss of almost everything on Ilium.
She frowned as the door slid shut, a series of clicks indicating it had locked. No one had come into the room…
She gave a start of fright when the other chair gave a creak, even as a cloaking field over the person sitting in it faded. Black armor, with panels of stiffened gray material, only emphasized the curvy shape of the person sitting in the chair.
Dahlia Dantius gave her sister a smile. "Hello… beloved sister. I've missed you so much."
Nassana swallowed, her throat suddenly gone dry and tight. She tried for a response, but instead stammered. "How…? You…?
Dahlia snorted. "I've been with the Shadow Broker a long, long time. Long before you tried to kill me. I saved his life, when I was an agent of the previous Broker… and he is why I am alive today, after the 'accident' that you set up to kill me."
Nassana blanched. "I-I… I didn't know…"
Her sister gave a low, throaty laugh, one full of outraged pain and something darker. "You didn't know? You didn't know your plots would come back to end you? That your relli-swimming idiocy would leave you defenseless? You were played from the very start, dearest sister."
The smile widened. "Time to embrace the moonset."
Nassana sprang up, trying to move back and bring up her barrier. She barely managed to call up her biotics before her sister blurred, a kick smashing her knee and buckling her leg beneath her. As she fell, Dahlia caught her by the throat, lifting her into the air and smiling viciously.
"You have caused me a great deal of pain and suffering through the years, sister." Dahlia's voice grew amused as Nassana kicked and struggled, and tightened her hand around her sister's throat, delighting in the feel of the flesh giving way. "You left me for dead, stole my mate, murdered my children, framed me for your own crimes, and then had the audacity to use my name to betray Eclipse."
Dahlia's form flared with biotic energy as she lifted her sister higher, as she squeezed. "You defiled our family and set up your own mother to die, sold out your own child to the Nightwind, and are probably responsible for even more deaths than I could ever dream of. I have waited so very long to do this, and it is every bit as fucking satisfying as I imagined it would be."
She stared into Nassana's eyes, glorying in this moment, before pushing more biotic power into her hand and squeezing. Nassana gave a choked scream that cut off as her neck bones snapped under the pressure.
Dahlia dropped her body, then kicked the corpse savagely enough to crush Nassana's skull, sending her form tumbling across the decking to smash into the wall with a smear of blood. She paused for a few moments to steady her emotions, then tapped her omni-tool. "Done with the main issue. Her guards?"
The voice of a krogan rumbled across the comm-link. "Idiots. Let them keep their weapons and they thought they were safe. Gassed them. We'll vent the room to space just to make sure."
She smiled. "Excellent. Once you're done with that, you'll need to clean up a mess in outer briefing room six. My sister's omni-tool should have the same information Tazzik was supposed to gather and that Tetrimus sent, along with whatever else she might have known. Cross-check everything and submit the report to the Broker directly… and Jara? The information is very sensitive, so don't do the analysis yourself."
The krogan chuckled. "I'll let Sanish do it. Maybe the Broker won't have him killed since he seems to like the little guy. Seems like a waste… couldn't you just have had the bitch spaced or shot to death on Ilium?"
She smiled wider. "The Broker wanted to make sure we had all her information and secrets. Between hacking her remote backups and having her hand over her codes to 'verify' her information, we finished that up just before she arrived. We captured and had her assistant that she left back at the Towers mind-ripped before she ever made it to Northpoint."
The already wide smile turned savage. "As for why here… I had a lot of anger to work out, and I never minded getting my hands dirty."
The krogan chuckled a second time. "I understand. Anyway… yeah, all her men are dead. I'll get the bots to vent it – anything else?"
She smiled. "No."
Shutting the omni-tool comm-link off, she walked across the room to kneel next to the corpse of her sister, staring at the horrified and pained expression on her features.
"All that plotting, killing, and relli-swimming… and for what?" Her voice grew taut with anger. "You were supposed to be my sister, to protect me, to help me."
She stood and kicked the corpse again, before exhaling and turning away. Struggling to contain her emotions, she forced herself to calmness and after a moment, found a smile. "I should have made you suffer more, but I'm not as cruel as you are. Goodbye, Nassana. I hope the Goddess hurls your essence into the Abyss for all eternity."
She exited the rooms, traveling down a series of darkened corridors before passing through into a larger room with hard red striping across the floor. In every language used by the Citadel Races, a message was printed on the walls and floor:
Sanctum Access Only. Intruders will be killed.
She walked forward, ignoring the scanners and sensors sweeping over her, and the heavy Silaris blast doors that sealed the way into the Sanctum slid open ponderously. Beyond, a trio of heavy war mechs and a host of tracking turrets followed her movements, until she entered into the vast, darkened expanse that was the Broker's home.
He was sitting at his massive desk, screens around him displaying financial markets. His voice rumbled through the darkness, low and quiet. "It is done?"
She nodded, coming to a stop three meters away. "With my own hands… thank you, Ty. Goddess, that was so very satisfying."
The Broker tapped a few keys on the haptic keyboard in front of them, and then pushed the screens aside with one massive clawed hand. "I presume your mind is clear for what faces us?"
She nodded. "I've already briefed the security teams. The Immutable's war robots have been loaded and placed throughout the ship, and the security teams are done with the barrier setups and traps. The engines have been completely sheathed in Silaris plating and access to all three mass effect core rooms is now blocked totally, the repair robots inside are the only things to have access."
She walked closer, tapping her omni-tool. "The engineers have set up hundreds of omni-turrets and deployed sixteen hundred omni-drone rack systems, set up in concentric circles starting at the outer hull. There's only one direct corridor to the Central Way now, and both T&I and Infometrics are locked down. With the exception of our STG guests and the elcor, we have no prisoners."
She sat down in front of the desk. "The fleet is still at station, but it is clear that Cerberus hasn't taken our bait."
He nodded. "Very well. Do your teams have any of Harper's people ready to be taken out?"
She shrugged. "Volinski and his quarian mate are on a station orbiting Vansaris, looks like some kind of recruitment program. Galen Minsta and his daughter are also on Vansaris. The last sighting we had of Rasa was near Bekenstein – clean up, we think. As usual, finding that whore Brooks is nearly impossible, although it is likely she's headed to wherever Rasa is. Vansaris is two jumps out from the Citadel and it's possible they are staging something, but we only have two observers on Vansaris at the moment, and there are a lot of Cerberus combat units there."
The yahg was silent for a moment, then shook his massive head. "Ignore them for now. The very fact that there is no one critical to Harper's operations – not the Odd Couple, not Rasa, and not Brooks that we can tell – indicates it is of secondary importance. Killing Volinski doesn't harm them much, and Galen Minsta is still a Lord of Sol – we do not need Alliance complications at this stage. What about Shepard?"
She consulted her omni. "Shepard and the rest of that bunch vanished after Ilium. We're assuming the bulk of the Cerberus fleet is somewhere in the Traverse, although based on flight times it could be in the Black Rim as well. We've sent scouting drones to multiple systems and every last one has been destroyed – I held off on sending manned ships without your approval."
The Broker grunted. "Harper is too clever to make his bases easily found… which is yet another reason why I am suspicious of Vansaris as a target. Keep your recon teams on high alert, but for the moment suspend active operations. We'll reconsider the search after we deal with Cerberus's inevitable attack. What is the progress on the Ilium aftermath?"
She sighed. "We have tried every ping and localization approach to find Tazzik with no results. It is almost certain he is in the hands of Cerberus. We sent down an augmented vorcha team to the surface of Ilium – the dig site was outside the blast radius of what happened to Nos Astra. We found dead STG and some of our own people – but no sign of the prime unit."
The Shadow Broker leaned back in his chair. "Possible that the geth removed it. No matter. And the Rim units?"
She smiled. "The primary generator powered on with zero issues and did a thirty-six-light-year transit. Recycled charge efficiency was only forty-two percent… the engineers are sure they can get it up to sixty by the end of the year."
The Broker's maw tilted in what she knew from long experience was a smile. "Very well done, and beyond expectations. Sixty percent gives us the ability to transit almost eight hundred light-years beyond the galactic rim. Even if the Reapers conduct searches for such things that is a titanic radius to search, given we will also angle downwards from the galactic elliptic. They have earned their place on the ship." He stood. "Is there more, Dahlia?"
She stood as well. "No… just." She paused, then shrugged. "Look, I know you hate running, but I did not expect them to kill Tazzy and Tetrimus. Are you sure you want to face them?"
The Broker turned away, heading into the bulging armored section of the Sanctum even she had never seen. "It is not a matter of want. Harper cannot allow me to live for his own plans to proceed, and I cannot allow him to live for mine to succeed. But he has no way to know what my abilities are, or our defenses – and we have now seen in great detail what all of his people can do, including Shepard."
He stopped at the entryway, and half turned. "Either they fall for the trap at Yurn-Orn, and are dispatched, or they have a method of locating me here. They cannot know of the true power of this vessel, or what I am. And they know nothing of you. Once we kill Shepard, Harper only has Vigil to rely upon."
She frowned. "Yeah, but we don't have a good counter for that."
The Broker's maw parted in a smile, and he gestured to the far wall, where a viewscreen displayed a black pyramid with red inset lines. "Almnrut will deal with Vigil, and then Harper will have nothing left to stop us."
She frowned at the image. "Are you sure it is safe having that thing here on the ship with us?"
The Broker gave a laugh. "To the Reapers, we are too small and insignificant to bother paying attention to, for the most part. It is a humbling reminder of the gulf of power." He paused, then fixed her with his multi-eyed gaze. "And ultimately, irrelevant. Once we break Harper's power, and Vigil, we won't need that thing anymore, I assure you."
She folded her arms. "Breaking his power is more than Shepard and Vigil – the Odd Couple, Rasa, the influence of his investments…"
"Again, it matters not. Once he is exposed, he is predictable. He will want to relocate, and he will have to move from his position to save himself. Then your recon teams will take out all his support with one sweeping strike before capturing Harper himself." He turned away, heading into his rooms. "I want him alive, Dahlia."
The door shut after him, and the asari gave a long exhalation of breath before turning to leave, somewhat troubled.
She worried about that device – her own researches and the Broker's both had warned of the dangers of indoctrination. She'd pushed for sensors to pick up on indoctrination, but the Broker had said they were unnecessary, and the pyramid had gone from being on a completely different ship to being installed in a giant geth prime and allowed to walk around to being somewhere on the Broker's own ship.
There was no telling what it could do. She was sure Ty'Tra'Thect had it isolated somehow, and was at least smart enough not to keep it close by (not to mention monitored 24/7). But if Vigil could hack all kinds of things and laugh at security and the Reaper device was stronger, then it worried her that it might have discovered their plans.
Or worse, that it was indoctrinating them all without them even knowing. She sighed and left. As the door shut behind her, the image of the pyramid pulsed once.
