HOLOCAUST

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT:

TWIN GENETICS

August 1, 2186

0859 hours.

Mercenary Temporary Headquarters, Lower Ward, Romulus Ward, The Citadel.

The Reaper War.

Captain Marcus Lee Shepard, Mercenary Leader Aria T'Loak, Lieutenant Bray, Admiral Jarral, Lieutenant Nakmor Dreg, Fleet Admiral Han'Gerrel vas Neema, Fleet Admiral Themistocles.

"And you're absolutely sure that T'Loak can be trusted?"

Marcus stopped as the two men reached the entrance to Aria's makeshift headquarters, hand falling to his side as he prepared to tap the haptic interface to open the metallic grey door. He turned to the quarian admiral at his side, looking through the man's black visor to see the man calmly and unflinchingly looking back at him. Marcus wouldn't have thought the two would be in each other's company so soon without a few fists exchanged, but apparently their relationship had been mended ever since the admiral had admitted to his mistakes. Not all grudges were permanent...or so it seemed. But Marcus wasn't going to get over the incident on the geth super-dread anytime soon, regardless of Gerrel's change of heart.

He sighed, licking his lips with a slight chuckle, "Gerrel, I trust Aria about as much as I trust the Crucible's ability to kill Reapers. I'm skeptical of both, but I know we need both. Aria is a powerhouse in her own right, and as much as I hate to say it, we need to help her out with this. Having her in power on Omega is preferable to Petrovsky, in other words."

Gerrel nodded, hands clasped behind his back as he turned to regard the door infront of him, "A fair assessment, but my point remains. Aria T'Loak is a woman we don't want to be in bed with, especially when you're asking me to commit quite a bit of my ships to retaking Omega."

"Well, if you're not eager to do it for Aria, admiral," Marcus began, scratching behind his ear, "Then do it for the quarian people. I'm sure your people want to get Cerberus back for the Idenna and the Rayya. Wouldn't you prefer to strike at Cerberus for a change?" Marcus was in his usual dress blues, not really seeing much need in wearing combat armor to what was supposed to be a debriefing. He brought a predator pistol sidearm just to be sure though; you could never know with Aria T'Loak. No reason to believe she wouldn't stab me in the back if push came to shove. She's no more trustworthy than the Illusive Man was.

Gerrel's response was restrained, but Marcus could tell he agreed with the sentiment, "That could certainly boost the morale of the men and women of the Fleet, but it won't rest my soul as easy. Working with criminals is borderline criminal in itself."

Themistocles, the black trooper-class combat platform standing behind them, its white optics glowing at them with its headflaps twisting and shifting, "Under normal circumstances, such logic would be deemed perfectly certifiable. However, given the state of galactic affairs and Cerberus' relationship with the quarian people, committing forces to combating this threat is not as immoral as you seem to be implying. We would not be so much as working for Aria T'Loak as we would be usurping a dictator and replacing him with somebody more in line with our ideals. Good for the war effort, good for us."

Marcus smiled, turning back to Gerrel, who had tilted his head to face the geth slightly, "Themistocles put it quite nicely. Aria may not be the definition of a good person, but she is a necessary asset. Besides, think of the tactical advantage. Whoever controls Omega owns the Terminus Systems and a shit ton of eezo. Enough to refuel entire fleets...perhaps Aria could be convinced to allow the RANCO to use it regularly in return for some of your ships to reinforce hers in holding the station? Who knows. Aria's not one for gratefulness, but I'm sure she'll make some compromises." RANCO was the official abbreviation for the Rannochian Coalition: the interim representative government/military alliance of the twin species of Rannoch. Koris was now the official quarian representative for the UGC, while Aristotle was the official geth representative.

Gerrel shook his head, exhaling heavily, "It is tempting to have somebody like Aria begging us for support for a change. I still can't commit a large number of my forces, however. Primarch Victus is already asking for assistance in the campaign to hold Palaven and to liberate key Hierarchy systems. They'll soon have krogan to help on the ground, and quarian ships in the sky to fill the gap left by their withdrawing warships."

"A necessary withdrawal, of course," Marcus pointed out, tapping the interface as the door unlocked and whished open, "The turians simply couldn't continue to throw their ships at the Reapers. Your presence would be a welcome relief to the turians."

Gerrel chuckled, following Themistocles and Marcus into the enclosed chamber. The room would be pitch black if not for the glowing terminals and flashing screens across the walls, a single holographic war table in the middle, a bright red hologram of Omega hovering just above the interface, the mixture of a red and blue glow lighting up the face of the batarian leaning over it, an asari across from him almost anal in their attention as she watched the batarian point to a specific point on the holo schematic, obviously going over the battle plan. Marcus recognized Bray, Aria's right-hand man looking focused and professional, almost like he loved his job. The asari he was talking to was too short to be Aria, and even in the darkness, he would have immediately recognized the asari's white jacket anywhere. The asari must have been this Jarral he heard so much about.

Overly attentive for someone who she described as being incompetent.

Gerrel spoke one final time as they moved into the room, finishing their original conversation, "I never thought I would see the day where any turian politician would ask a quarian for help."

To his surprise, Themistocles replied to that almost immediately, "The Creators never expected to be allied with the geth either."

To his further surprise, Gerrel's simply shrugged, nodding as they reached the center table, Bray straightening himself, Jarral doing the same as she took notice of the trio, "A good point, Themistocles. Everything will be changing now...other than the obvious galactic synthetic genocide."

Marcus stood to the left of who he assumed was Jarral, the asari giving him a brief nod before she turned back to the table, leaning her head on a single fist supported on her elbow as she used her other hand to idly flick at the holo schematic, the representation of the station spinning around. Gerrel stood to the left of Marcus, and Themistocles to the left of him, his optics likely already scanning the schematics in its totality.

Bray frowned at Marcus, before a grin split his lips, "The great Captain Shepard. Heh," the batarian pretended to pat down his pockets, before pulling up his hands in a sort of comical 'whoops' look, "And me without my autograph book."

A smartass. Only so much room in the galaxy for them before it explodes.

Marcus chuckled. Bray's grin and sarcasm wasn't what you'd expect in regards to Shepard. With Balak, any sarcasm or smirks aimed at Marcus were hate filled: Balak despised him and wanted his head on a spike and wouldn't rest until he got it, and Marcus wouldn't rest until he did likewise, but both were willing to wait until after the war to resume hostilities: that didn't mean they were friends. As for Bray...he didn't know the man, but he had a feeling Bray was just poking fun at him...there was no hatred behind it. No malice. Just...someone trying to stir him up. Out of mistrust, maybe, not utter contempt. That Marcus could accept.

"Save it, Lieutenant," Marcus replied, addressing the man by rank to stir him up in return, "We're here for the debriefing."

"No shit," Jarral mumbled, still not seeming to pay attention to them as she splayed her hand open, zooming in on Omega's tail, the part of the station that thinned out into a sort of lower spire. Marcus had no idea what the hell she was doing, and his current impression of her seemed like that of a child who was bored and wanted to go home while their parents talked amongst each other on some topic that the child was simply too basic to contribute to.

Bray crossed his arms, motioning to the two admirals with Marcus, "This the help you promised?"

Marcus braced his arms against the table, the brightness of the table contributing to the darkness shrouding around them making him painfully aware of the beginnings of a few red rings appearing under his eyes. They weren't noticable to the naked eye, but Marcus was aware they were forming, a demonstration of the many nights he had spent wide awake reading casualty reports and filing out post-mission reports. The amount of interviews from reporters he had turned down due to numerous reasons...and that's not to mention the letters of thanks that had been rerouted to his personal extranet address...mixed among the odd person who got a hold of his address and sent hate mail...

He looked up at the batarian, pushing aside the thoughts of the people suffering throughout the galaxy to focus on saving them, one step at a time, "Yes, they are. This is Admiral Han'Gerrel vas Neema of the Migrant Fleet and Admiral Themistocles of the Geth Collective."

"Yes," Bray turned to the geth, looking to stiffen slightly, uncrossing his arms to finger what was likely a pistol at his hip, "We've noticed the geth in your presence..."

Marcus stood up, making sure the batarian saw the pistol at his own hip as well, "Themistocles is our ally, Bray. You'd do good to take your hand away from that weapon, now."

"There is no need to defend me, Shepard-Captain," Themistocles held up its hand, turning to Bray with a twitching of its headflaps, "I do not intend physical harm upon you, Bray-Lieutenant, neither have I ever desired to. Your concern is unwarranted."

Bray scoffed, scratching his nose as he pulled his hand from his pistol and crossing his arms slowly while watching the geth, "Yeah well...it'd better be. You so much as look at Aria the wrong way-"

"-the one rule of Omega will apply," came a voice from the darkness, Marcus looking up as he saw the outline of an asari in a white jacket approaching, immediaely knowing who it was. She came to a stop opposite from him, Bray and Jarral straightening at her presence, Jarral slower to the draw. Aria T'Loak braced against the table herself, a salarian standing to her right, tapping at his omni-tool eagerly and not at all noticing any of them at the table, while Dreg stood to her left, the krogan towering over Aria, eyes locking onto Marcus with a look of indifference. Her tattooed face looked up at Marcus, before turning back to Themistocles, and finally landing on Bray. She snorted, shaking her head, "Oh, don't look so anal, Bray; it was never your strong suit. I'm sure Shepard wouldn't be stupid enough to bring in a geth unless he knew it was friendly."

"All the geth are 'friendly' now, Aria," Marcus pointed out, "Which is exactly why Themistocles is here. The geth are willing to help retake Omega, Aria. I told you I would get help, and I did. Han'Gerrel is here to represent the quarians as well," he smiled, nodding to the Omega hologram, "And they aren't all the help I've acquired. I've made quite a few calls."

"Good," Bray spoke up, scratching the top of his head, "I can't wait to see what all the fuss is about."

Marcus decided to ignore that comment, motioning to Gerrel and Themistocles in preparation to make introductions again, "Well, Aria T'Loak, this is-"

"Admirals Han'Gerrel and Themistocles. Yeah, I heard," Aria interrupted, turning to the salarian on her right, "Ahz, get off that omni-tool and bring up the schematics for our fleet disposition. I think it's about time we showed Shepard and our guests just what the Omega Liberation Front has assembled."

Gerrel shook his head, "A bit dramatic, don't you think?"

Aria seemed to glare a hole through the quarian admiral before tearing her eyes away and addressing Marcus directly, "I promised Petrovsky I would return with the biggest mercenary army the galaxy has ever seen to retake my fucking station, and the Omega Liberation Front is just that," Aria turned back to the salarian named Ahz, who was now typing at the table's terminal as he inputted the necessary information. In a few moments, data began to stream directly to the table's interface, followed by Omega's holoform evaporating in a blaze of particles to be replaced by the individual forms of a large mercenary fleet.

Ahz quietly turned up from the terminal and stood back, allowing Aria to move in and begin typing at the terminal herself, the specific information she wanted appearing on the screens infront of them, "I've brought an equal number of troops and ships with me for this assault. Now, before you decided that you'd bring your squad, the Normandy and a quarter of the fucking UGC with you, I deemed this force more than enough to retake Omega from Petrovsky. Of course, you had different ideas, didn't you?"

"Petrovsky doesn't give a damn about your one rule, Aria. You learnt that," Marcus dryly remarked, waving a dismissive hand, "No matter how big your force was, it had no essence behind it. You may be intimidating Aria when you're in control, but you're not: Petrovsky is. If you want to win, you have to work with me. Outsmarting Petrovsky is the key to winning the upcoming fight. You know that, otherwise you wouldn't have to come to me."

"I understand that, Shepard," Aria hissed, gritting her teeth almost angrily at having to be constantly reminded that she had to swallow her pride and accept help, "Which is why you're even aware of this operation in the first place. Now, do you want to hear what I've got or not?"

He held up his hands defensively, before letting them fall back to the table with a quick nod in her direction, "By all means, Aria. Show us everything you've been collecting these past eight months."

Aria, without so much as a smile, straightened herself and flicked through the information, reading it out like a grocery list as she went, tone almost disinterested, "Let us start with what we have on the ground. Mrs. Renmark has been very helpful in that regard, and with Zaeed Massani off being a, 'quote on quote, 'goddamn hero', Renmark was more than willing to give me what I needed, especially when she heard I was retaking Omega: she was born there, you see. So, she's given me two full battalions of Blue Suns mercenaries, accompanied by some vehicles and heavy weapons: she herself volunteered to lead them, leaving her man Palisus in charge of the Citadel division while she is gone."

"I know Jentha. She's a good soldier," Marcus noted, "So what else?"

"Thought you'd be interested," Aria grinned, turning to her man Dreg, "Show them the rest."

Dreg nodded and began to flick through with the same disinterest his leader did, "Turns out you have quite a number of people indebted to you, Shepard. In attempting to acquire two battalions of Eclipse mercenaries from Sayn, he refused until we dropped your name, and then he was all over it: said he'd even send one of his best commanders to lead the battalions themselves, along with a surplus of mech support and a couple of their vanguards. Apparently Sayn owes a lot to you. I'm sure it had nothing to do with you killing Jona Sederis and putting him in power."

Marcus didn't fail to notice Aria's glare across the table at him, the asari crossing her arms. He sighed, turning to look at Dreg, ignoring the Queen of Omega's glare, "Sederis was a fucking psychopath. All she saw was blood, all she wanted was blood and she wouldn't rest until her enemies were drowning in blood. I put her down like the animal she was, and put someone more capable in charge. If anyone else has a problem with that, then shoot me."

Dreg gritted his teeth, growling slightly, "I don't give a shit about Sederis. She was no friend of mine. Just pointing out that Sayn's debt to you got us some extra troops. That was a thank you."

"Well..." he lost track of what he wanted to say, before simply shrugging, thinking of the first words that came to mind, "You're welcome, then."

"Moving on," Aria interrupted.

Dreg did just that, flicking to the next bit of information, "We've acquired a full legion of Blood Pack mercs from Gryll, complete with 3,000 vorcha boom squads and the best heavy weapons available. All of that is not including the main ground forces that Aria herself wields. We have three platoons of our own men ready and willing, with myself and Bray prepared to lead them," he lowered his hand, finished flicking through the holograms, and slowly turned to Jarral, his glare almost as devastating as a thanix cannon as he looked directly at Jarral. Nobody seems to be fans of her, "And that brings us to the fleet."

Jarral quickly nodded, tearing her eyes away from Dreg as if afraid he would bite her head off, "Yes, we've got a number of ships as part of our arsenal, all of which are under my command," she said that with somekind of pride, one of which Marcus noticably saw Aria roll her eyes at, and Bray sigh heavily at. Jarral seemed to notice the latter, glaring at the batarian bitterly before turning back to the table, trying her best to ignore the exasperations of her colleagues, "We managed to get our hands on fourteen Farixen-class light frigates, for starters."

Gerrel looked surprised by that, "Farixen-class? How did you get your hands on a turian frigate, let alone such a large amount?"

Jarral looked amused by that question, as if she was proud that she knew something a distinguished military commander didn't, "It wasn't hard, old man. Farixen-class frigates were decommissioned close to two decades ago."

Gerrel, in his exasperation, rolled his eyes, turning to the asari 'admiral' in turn, "I'm well aware of that, admiral. But the turians are the only species in the galaxy that do not sell warships to other races after their decommissioning; they scrap them and use what's left to build more ships. My surprise lies with that you managed to get your hands on fourteen turian warships that should, by all rights, no longer exist."

Jarral didn't seem to know how to respond to that, mouth opening but no words coming out. Before she could explain herself, Aria sighed and intervened, tone exasperated and annoyed by the constant interruption, "They were fucking stolen. A few bribes were made decades ago with some of the esteemed members of the turian navy, and they arranged for a few ships to disappear from their docks: they made sure they were written off as destroyed, and fourteen turian frigates escaped decommissioning. And now they're mine. Are you happy now?"

"My curiosity is saturated so far," Gerrel admitted, nodding his head to Aria, although he clearly wasn't happy about it, "The mystery of the stolen turian warships is solved. Carthasis has been provided. Just got to hope the Hierarchy doesn't see those ships."

"I would agree with you, Gerrel," Marcus spoke up, grabbing the attention of the admiral, "But it turns out Victus and the rest of the Hierarchy have bigger problems than ships that, for all they know, are gone."

"Agreed," Jarral stated, clearing her throat to bring all attention back to her. Everyone looked back at the holotable with her, "Now, back to what we have. Other than our fourteen...stolen...Farixen-class light frigates, we also have seventeen rearmed and armoured Asfinphea-class asari destroyers...and before you ask, they were sold and bought between numerous companies before ending up in our possession. We had to have them rearmed and armoured though; they'd been stripped of both and turned into pleasure barges," she laughed at the thought, and Marcus couldn't help but grin at that either.

A fearsome asari warship...turned into a luxurious, glorified cruise liner.

The asari continued, flicking through more of the information on her fleet details, "We also managed to get our hands on three decommissioned but, yet again, rearmed and rearmoured Alliance Mermaid-class corvettes. We basically had to convert them into frigates; more armor at the front, more armament towards the back and stronger shields. Not unrecognizable...just repainted and made better," next, a single, much larger and more recognizable image, appeared, Jarral continuing, "And probably the largest ship we've commandeered has to be this decommissioned Everest-class dreadnought."

"That's the SSV Fuji," Marcus stated, "I know because I remember watching it get decommissioned: the last Everest-class ship to be retired. The ship's identification code is still engorged into the hull...near the front." The 'HA-14' near the front of the ship stood for 'Heavy Assault-14', Heavy Assault meaning it was a dreadnought, and 14 meaning it was the fourteenth ship to be decommissioned. Given that not a single Kilimanjaro-class dreadnought had been retired yet, that only left the Everest-class: and the fourteenth Everest-class ship was the Fuji. That's how he knew.

"Yeah, well...we call it Omega's Hammer now. My flagship," Jarral emphasized, rolling her eyes at Marcus as she continued, "Anyway, we also have nineteen Athabasca-class freighters in our possession, all of them fitted with armor, some guns added and cruiser-grade kinetic barriers: they aren't warships, but they can certainly pack a punch. And, of course, our stolen prize," one final flick, and the all too familiar form of a Cerberus light cruiser appeared, solitary and alone.

"I present to you the Hyderabad-class light cruiser, CAW Eisenhower, formerly commanded by the late Captain Edmund Lentz, now in our possession," Jarral gloated, grinning, "Captured while alone on patrol. Those Cerberus assholes and their high tech were no match for a direct EMP blast and a Blood Pack boarding team. Took the dickheads by surprise and claimed their ship without Cerberus so much as knowing about it. Now it's ours. It's also our ticket in."

In a sort of 'drop the mic' moment, Jarral thumbed the control panel, switching the hologram of the fleet back to that of Omega itself, station slowly spinning as if it were the real thing. Jarral crossed her arms, turning back to them with a sort of smugness to her posture, "Any questions?"

"Yeah. Plenty," Marcus held a finger up, to which Jarral nodded for him to continue. He turned to the asari admiral, his own arms now crossed, pointing to where the former holo of the Cerberus cruiser had once resided, "First of all, you clearly have the intent of using the captured Cerberus cruiser to infiltrate the enemy fleet, but my question is for what purpose."

"Simple," Jarral sighed like an annoyed child as Aria responded for her, drawing Marcus' attention to the criminal mastermind, "The plan, before you intervened, was for my fleet to wait at the Balor relay under the command of Jarral. The Eisenhower, with you, me and Dreg onboard, would advance through the relay alone and approach Petrovsky's fleet. We politely commandeered the entrance codes from Captain Lentz, so that would let us slip right by their exterior patrols and let us get within their midst."

Marcus inwardly scoffed at her use of terminology. By 'politely commandeered' she meant 'tortured.' Fucking hell Aria. Anything to get your damn station back.

Ah well, you want that station too, Marcus. The war, remember?

I'm aware.

Serv-

Get fucked, Harby.

Aria continued, oblivious to his inner thoughts as was everyone else in the room, "The next step is to get nice and close to Petrovsky's flagship. It's a modified, Cerberus built Kilimanjaro-class dreadnought called the Elbrus. He'll have it docked right at the station proper, near the core of his fleet and safe from enemy fire; at least until now, of course. It's got a longer range MAC, more missile batteries, better GARDIAN tracking and strenghtened shields: my fleet won't be able to take it on, but of course that won't be a problem. Given the lack of a battle readiness, the Elbrus' shields will be down and the dreadnought vulnerable: we'll get in nice and close and use the Eisenhower's arsenal to tear the Elbrus apart. With Petrovsky's flagship dead in the water, I'll signal my ships to move through the relay and storm Omega. We should catch Cerberus completely by surprise and destroy a significant portion of their naval forces. I had fifty javelin torpedoes jury-rigged and moved to the front of the ship: we'd evacuate to the back of the cruiser and then slam it straight into Omega, where the Fulmuk District is. The torpedoes and the ship's collision will decompress the entire area, but allow us to move inside unhurt. After that, Jarral will mop up the remaining Cerberus forces in orbit around the station and deploy our ground troops. After that, it becomes a ground war. That's where you'd have come in. You'd lead my forces to victory over Petrovsky and retake my station, one district at a time."

By the end, Aria leaned back, crossing her arms with a slight smirk, "So, Shepard...will my plan work or not? I've thought through this for months. We've checked over every possible alternative and solution to the issue: this is the plan with the least collateral and casualties. I don't doubt we'll have casualties, but nothing crippling to his operation."

"Oh, there will be casualties," Gerrel seemed to agree, before shaking his head, "You'll lose well over three quarters of your fleet, most of your ground forces will be wiped out before they make ground, and Petrovsky will go district to district, keeping his station locked down."

Aria glared daggers at him, "I didn't ask yo-"

"I agree," Marcus stated, visibly irritating Aria as she moved to respond. He held a hand, stopping her as he continued, using the hologram as referenced, "Your first mistake Aria was assuming you've got this in the bag. You may not have heard of Sun Tzu, but he had a famous saying that is relevant to this situation: 'know yourself and know your enemy, and will never lose a battle.' Forgive me if I'm paraphrasing like a heathen, but I believe you've grossly underestimated Cerberus' capabilities, and you've overestimated your own. Months of planning Aria, and you've turned up a plan that will go to shit in minutes and has so many loopholes, I don't even know where to begin picking it apart."

"You're here because I need tactical and strategic advice," Aria growled, tensing slightly. After a moment however, she relaxed and nodded at him, although it was through gritted teeth and a cup full of reluctance, "So...advise."

He nodded, "First of all, your plan deerves to be given credit where it's deserved. The decision to use a Cerberus light cruiser to sneak behind enemy lines and destroy their flagship is a good idea, but that's where your plan falls apart. You make the poor assumption that your fleet will punch through the Cerberus fleet destroy them easily and without question. You've made no mention of any contingencies in case this does not occur. You caught one cruiser offguard Aria, but what about an entire fleet? This is Cerberus we're talking about, not some ragtag group of mercenaries. They have technological superiority aplenty, and from what you've shown me, they outnumber you two to one. They have more ships and of better quality. More firepower, better captains...a superior commander," Marcus tried his best not to mention names, but couldn't help but give Jarral an ever so slight glance, but made sure she didn't see it. Not that she would have if he had made it obvious, though.

"So what do you think would happen?" Jarral asked, sounding offended, her frown turning into a sneer.

There was no hesitation as he responded, "If you're lucky, you'd catch a couple of cruisers. Perhaps a dozen corvettes. After that, Petrovsky would rally his fleet and slice through your ragtag band of ships like they were nothing. A single heavy cruiser are more than capable than standing up to your ships, and that's not including the carriers and battleships they'll have. You've also made the mistake of forgetting about carriers...Jarral failed to mention any sort of fighter coverage, which means you've either got none or didn't value them enough to mention," he shook his head, chuckling, "A swarm of interceptors and bombers is more dangerous than any cruiser or battleship. Once they get under your flak, they'll tear your ships to pieces. Your little dreadnought will be rendered useless by just a couple squadrons of bombers."

Jarral, flustered, straightening, her face lighting up in anger, "I outfitted that dreadnought with the best-"

"Oh, save me the shit," Marcus stated dismissively, frowning at her as if she was somekind of moron, "Cerberus sets the definition for best. No matter how many anti-aircraft guns you have outfitted on that moving shitheap, those bombers will get under it and once they've done that, you'll be sounding abandon ship faster than you can call for reinforcements. Let's face it Aria," he brought his attention back to her, "Your fleet, as impressive as you may think it is, will be throwing pebbles at a flowing river. The battle will be over in minutes with a fleet like this."

"This is bullshit!" Jarral waved her arms up in the air as the beginning of her tantrum, one hand coming to land on her hip as she turned to Aria, waving her hand at Marcus, "Aria, you put me in charge of this fleet! I won't stand here and listen to this asshole shit talk my hard work! Do you have any idea how much money I spent making sure that dreadnought was armed to the teeth? Thousands of credits! I can't believe we're listening to this guy..."

"You've faced Petrovsky before, Aria," Marcus pleaded after Jarral's rant, the asari he addressed looking blankly at the table in growing irritation, "You must know he won't fold under this. This...this is a toddler's band of merchant ships armed with water guns! Plain and simple! What you've got here won't last the minutes it takes to get from that relay to Omega. Your war? It'll be over, just like that. So are you going to let me suggest an actual strategy or will you let this 'admiral' of yours continue to dictate your battle plan?"

"You've made your goddamn case, Shepard. Fuck," Aria snapped, looking up at him with a cocked head, "Fuck it. Jarral, sit down and stop looking so angry and let Shepard talk. He knows more about this shit than you do, so you might want to whip out your omni-tool and start taking some fucking notes."

Jarral looked about ready to object further when she seemingly deflated, pride washing away as she turned to Marcus, reluctantly motioning for him to continue.

He nodded to her, before turning back to Aria, "Your ground force is good, but it'll need bolstering if we're going to make even with Petrovsky's forces: we need to take away every advantage he has until all he's got is that mind of his. That means we need to take away the numerical advantage itself, their technological advantage and their knowledge of the terrain. Aria, you've already know Omega like the back of your hand, so we have that: we need to secure the rest. Your fleet and your army needs improvement. Luckily for you, I made some calls," he turned to Gerrel and Themistocles, nodding to them, "I didn't bring them for no reason. They're the help."

Themistocles' headflaps shifted slightly before it gave a slight nod, "I are currently communicating with all our forces concurrently. I am organizing attribution of geth forces to the Omega military operation. I believe retaking this station from the forces of Cerberus is relevant to geth interests and is necessary as a contribution to the war effort."

Gerrel nodded in agreement, "I've come to the same conclusion. Omega is a strategic asset, and anything Cerberus can get their claws on is something we want to rip right back. And, thanks to Captain Shepard's reasoning, I think I'm willing to contribute some of our own forces to aid in this operation. Given that the quarians and geth are new to this war, we're in the best position to offer assistance. And we remember the Idenna. And the Rayya. My people want pay back against Cerberus just as much as you do."

"Then you're willing to help. I get that," Aria angrily interrupted, slamming a hand into the table, "So what are you willing to provide?"

Marcus and Gerrel exchanged brief glances at that, before sharing nods of affirmation. The quarian admiral turned back, nodding to Aria, "I am prepared to dedicate twenty Zarasis-class light cruisers, four Paramount-class heavy frigates and six Vesa'kee-class light frigates. We will also provide a maximum of ten squadrons of fighters. At current, we cannot offer anymore ships. I will personally oversee the fleet myself."

Marcus turned to Gerrel, a raised eyebrow, "You sure about that, admiral?"

Gerrel quickly nodded, having obviously thought his decision through, "I'm sure. Admiral Koris can command the rest of the Fleet while I'm gone. I wish to oversee this battlegroup myself."

Themistocles spoke next, quickly finished with its consensus, "Consensus has been reached. The geth are willing to commit one dreadnought, two battleships, twelve heavy cruisers and eighteen light frigates. We will also commit fifteen squadrons of fighters, five squadrons of bombers and seven squadrons of interceptors. I believe these numbers to be sufficient."

"Well shit," Jarral exclaimed, gulping suddenly as she tried to recompose herself, "I mean...damn. That should be more than sufficient to reinforce our fleet."

"And enough to smash the Cerberus fleet as you plan to do," Gerrel pointed out, hands still clasped behind his back firmly, "We'll break the Cerberus line, surround them on all sides. The geth have cloaking technology on all their ships, which gives us a significant advantage over Cerberus: as far as we know, the geth are the only ones to possess cloaking technology, which means Cerberus will not see us coming. The geth can move under cloak and surround the enemy fleet from all sides, allowing us to take them out much faster than simply funnelling our ships into a flank we're not sure will even collapse."

"That is excellent to hear," Dreg declared, frowning at them narrowly, "But all I hear is talk of ships. You can smash the Cerberus blockade, sure. With a fleet like that, I have no doubt we'll decimate Petrovsky's ships and scatter them to the wind. But I brought you for the ground war, Shepard. That's the deciding factor here. We can win the fight in space, but winning the battle on the ground is what matters."

"I concur," Gerrel acknowledged, "And I've acknowledged the need for ground forces. But the Migrant Fleet Marines will be stretched too thin soon, and I simply cannot risk what troops we have. However, I will commit one hundred of our combat engineers to help reinforce Aria's. Given Cerberus' monopoly on technologically advanced weaponry and logistics, having our engineers assist yours will give you an edge."

Before Aria could respond, Themistocles spoke up, "I am also willing to dedicate ground troops, but given our numbers, the geth will be able to supply far more," a few seconds later, the black geth trooper decided, "I am prepared to deploy one squad of Prime-class combat platforms, three squads of Juggernaut-class combat platforms, six platoons of Destroyer-class combat platforms, one battalion of Hopper-class combat platforms, three regiments of Trooper-class combat platforms, two squads of Armature-class combat platforms, fourteen squadrons of Assault Drone-class combat platforms and one squad of Colossus-class combat platforms."

Marcus sighed, looking at Aria with a smirk. If the asari was capable of overcoming her own pride, she might have admitted she was impressed. Of course, that wasn't all there was to offer. He straightened, uncrossing his arms as he braced against the table again, "And that's not all. I made some other calls, sealed some deals. Urdnot Wrex has committed the 1st Aralakh Battalion, coming with a total of four hundred stormtroopers, one hundred heavy troopers and three hundred commandos. Led by the recently promoted Field Marshall Urdnot Grunt himself. You can also expect two of the rachni's most recently manufactured cruisers, along with three thousand rachni soldiers, fifteen thousand workers and thirty brood warriors."

"What the fuck?" Bray snapped, turning to Aria with a frown, "Did we just hand over the keys of this operation to the motherfucking UGC? That's what it seems like, Aria. They've taken over our fleet and our army. Will this be our victory or theirs, Aria?"

Dreg turned to Bray, pointing a finger straight at him, "You should be thankful, runt. What we've offered is more than army: its a legion. A legion with which to conquer Omega and defeat Petrovsky," he turned to Aria, lowering his finger as he began to whisper in her ear. Marcus couldn't make out what was being said, but he had no doubt Aria was in agreement as she nodded, finally standing up fully as Dreg backed away, bowing his head as if in reverence of her.

Finally, she spoke, clearing her throat as her fingers tapped idly at the table's surface, "We'll do it your way, Shepard."

Bray was flabbergasted, "Aria, this is Omega we're talking about!"

"Indeed, Bray," Aria replied with the utmost calm, dismissing his complaints with a sort of carelessness he'd come to expect from her at this point, "Which is exactly why I will be accepting help. Petrovsky is a force to be reckoned with, and Shepard was right about the forces we have: they don't mean shit. They have a better army, better troops, better positions, a better general. At least now we've evened the playing field. This is the play we need, Bray. This army and fleet will save Omega. As long as I get to kill Petrovsky myself, I don't care how Omega gets reclaimed as long as it fucking does. So," she waved a hand at Marcus, "We do it his way."

He smiled slightly, "You asked me to advise, so I advised. Not my fault you took so long to listen."

"This will, however, take time to prepare," Gerrel interrupted, wiping his mask off-handedly, "These forces will be assembled and the appropriate authorities notified. I can't just take these ships and disappear without somebody somewhere knowing."

"Agreed, we need to get this up and running. A day at least to make the appropriate preparations," Marcus declared, tapping the table, "So until then, I'll retire to the Normandy and inform my squad. I'll make sure they-"

Had Marcus not been concentrating, he might have seen the sudden flooding of light invading the darkness of their chamber: a sign that somebody had opened the door. It took four seconds for him to notice, and by that time the door had closed behind the new guest, those who tried to stop them had been ignored or pushed aside, and they were now firmly standing beside Marcus, looking up at them.

Marcus looked down at them, but it took him a few seconds to realize who he was looking at.

"I want in. Right now."

His eyes widened. He couldn't think of what to say except simply, "Jack?"

Jack rolled her eyes, punching him in the shoulder lightly, "I'm sure glad you haven't forgotten my name. So, can I join this little brigade or not?"

He looked about to question the woman when he simply shrugged, "I...don't see why not. I would ask how you knew about this meeting, but I can only guess somebody blabbed to you. I'm guessing you want in because Cerberus is involved?"

"Yeah. That, and my students need somebody to fight other than fucking Reapers," Jack replied, biting her lower lip, "They're tired and they're still recovering from our most recent shitshow on Dekuuna. They could do with a change of environment and enemies. Soldiers with guns are much easier to kill...especially when your teacher has made a passionate hobby out of slaughtering them."

He grinned at her, punching her shoulder lightly in return. He knew that if anyone else had done that, he would likely have been biotically thrown back. Luckily, he wasn't anyone else to Jack: he was a friend, "Glad your hatred for Cerberus hasn't ebbed."

"I'll never forget what they did to me. What they tried to do to my students on Grissom Academy, and to the people on the Citadel," she snarled, slamming a fist into the table, "If there's any killing of Cerberus to be done, I want to be a part of it. Fuck those fucking motherfuckers."

"This one has a mouth on her," Aria remarked, catching the attention of the psychotic biotic, "You must be Subject Zero. I've heard a lot about you. You're a Cerberus menace."

Jack snapped to look at the asari, growling intensely, "Don't ever fucking call me by that name. It's Jack, bitch. And I'd prefer the wording to be: I'm a menace to Cerberus. Because that's what I am. I'm rolling around on the Illusive Man love train, especially the carrage that involves tearing him limb from limb the first chance I get."

To nobody's surprise, Jack's reaction only caused Aria to smirk, "Very well. Anyone that pissed off at Cerberus is somebody I want on this army."

"No argument from me," Marcus stated in agreement, turning back to Jack while patting her shoulder, "It'll be good working alongside you again."

Jack smirked up at him, the most warm he'd seen out of her in ages, "It feels fucking great."

{Loading...}

August 1, 2186

1310 hours.

Security Deck, East Wing, Polyphemus Facility, Sanctum.

The Reaper War.

Private Second Class Delan Tidey.

A long, almost empty, hallway, stretching out easily over a dozen or so meters, walled in by blue-silver walls on the right. At one end, a doorway with the usual golden hexagon insignia of the Cerberus organization, the door itself a white and gold that didn't match with the walls or the overall interior, which was mostly silvery blue: over the doorway was the words 'Storage Room'. At the end of the hallway, to the right of the door, another door, this one unlocked and leading out to a shuttle area, five landing pads built into its surface, along with several crates of cargo that, as of yet, had been left uncollected. The landing pad would allow for a fantastic view of the Polyphemus facility in its entirety, stretching out across five whole kilometers along Sanctum's snowy and barren surface.

To the left, several meters before the door at the end, there was a stairway leading down to the Science Deck, where all the central laboratories were located: a place where all the Cerberus brain trust were likely cooped up at every given moment, devising whatever it was they devised that helped Cerberus keep up the technological monopoly they had. At the other end of the hallway was another stairway that led up to the rest of the Security Deck, where the facility's barracks were located, along with the Polyphemus garrison. The upper decks were dedicated to the servers and main reactor was located, and the uppermost deck was known as the docks, where any visiting Cerberus vessels larger than a shuttle or gunship could land, along with an airstrip for fighters, bombers and interceptors.

Polyhemus may have been a science installation, but it wasn't without its military purposes, and with the nearby Omega, as well as the Titan project, all within the Terminus Systems, Sanctum was the perfect location for Cerberus ships to land, resupply and leave. Only bad thing was the unbareable weather. And with the majority of the planet under Cerberus occupation, Polyphemus could operate with almost total impunity. A perfect place for the eggheads and geeks to experiment and torture whatever and whoever they wanted.

Private Second Class Delan Tidey, patrolling said hallway, was a result of such experiments, after all.

He hadn't always been a Cerberus assault trooper. He hadn't always been a soldier, full stop. He hadn't worn armor, carried a mattock heavy rifle or weapon of any sort other than a wrench, and he most certainly had not been a fan or supporter of Cerberus or any pro-human agenda. He had been just like any other human: wanting to lead an ordinary life, without interruption, peacefully and without interference. But ever since the war began in 2186 CE, that life had been torn from Delan, never to be returned.

The Delan Tidey of today was not who he had been. He had once been a resident of Horizon, specifically the Grandeur colony. An expert on skycars and numerous other non-military vehicles, he had been the colony's official mechanic, and a good one at that. He had been one of the few survivors that escaped the claws of the Collectors when they attacked in 2185 CE, where he had even met Commander Shepard in person; of course, he hadn't been too grateful.

How he'd give up everything to see the man save him now.

One abduction Delan hadn't survived was Cerberus. Just before the beginning of the Reaper invasion, Delan and the rest of the colonists had been victims of a Cerberus attack on Horizon, where he was abducted with the rest. The rest after that was a story of torture and experimentation, leading to him eventually joining the ranks of the Cerberus army. He was now just another foot soldier of the Illusive Man: no memory of his past other than a pre-programmed patriotism to the Illusive Man, the Cerberus ideals and humanity itself. He was as irrelevant as the other names in the Cerberus military.

The only acknowledgement of his existence was the thud of his footsteps on the steel floor, the creak of his armor shifting and rubbing together, the click of his rifle as he, every once and again, flicked the safety on and off and the stutter of his radio as comms chatter between soldiers could be heard through his helmet. He continued his patrol of the Security Deck, looking around almost absently, his mind clearly wanting a threat to appear so he could follow his programming and kill some xenos.

He heard footsteps come around the corner, but when he turned his head, he only saw two more assault troopers, flanking behind a scientist in the uniform of Cerberus' science division, a datapad under one arm while she tapped at her omni-tool, mumbling to herself. She didn't even acknowledge Delan as she walked past him, and neither did the troopers, all three of them walking down the steps and onto the Science Deck, uncaring of their comrade. Delan did the same, turned back and continued his patrol.

Only to stop when he heard banging. And not consistent banging: multiple bangs. One, then another, then more...echoing through the walls, sounding nearby and yet distant. Delan didn't waste time and raised his rifle, pointing directly at the doorway. The banging continued, and the soldier realized that it wasn't banging...it was gunfire. The electronic shouting of his compatriots could be heard, so he keyed his radio, reaching the nearest centurion, "Sir, this is Tidey. We've got gunfire coming from the storage compartment. Request backup to investigate, over. Be advised: possible insurgent presence."

The centurion was quick to respond, as they always were, "Solid copy. Dispatching Lima to your location."

"Copy," Tidey replied in his usual monotone, before turning back to the door. It didn't take him long before he realized the gunfire had stopped. His grip tightened on his mattock, eyes downrange as his finger lay on the trigger. He had no idea what awaited him behind that door. Either his comrades had successfully dealt with the threat, or the threat had dealt with them...either way...

A thud was heard, and he frowned: the sound had come from the door. He frowned as he began to move forward slowly, making sure to check his sectors. He motioned his weapon down into the shuttle bay and, content there was no threat coming from that angle, he turned back to the doorway.

A white flash flooded his vision as he was physically lifted from the ground and thrown backward violently, a wave of heat washing over him as he became to land on the ground, rolling onto his belly. He had long dropped his weapon, the weapon nowhere to be found in his grip and he didn't hear it land either. He groaned, feeling wet and sticky blood begin to pool from an area around his chest, but oddly feeling no sensation other than the blood leaving his body. His right arm was twisted at an unusual angle, and Delan concluded it was broken: once again, no pain greeted him from the severe injury. As he rolled over, he noticed smoke was filling the room, bright orange and red colors leaking into his right peripherals. Smoke alarms blared across the deck, Delan concluding that a bomb must have detonated.

He lifted the hand of his unmaimed arm had felt around the bleeding area, finding a shard of metal sticking out from his chest, the force of the blast likely causing it to tear through his medium armor. The entire bottom half of his torso was soaked in blood by this point, but Delan took gratitude in knowing that it was saving him from further bleed out by clotting the wound. He started coughing up blood, licking his lips to clear it away as he tried to contact the centurion to alert him of the possible rebel raid. More than likely it was the Sanctum populace rebelling against Cerberus rule. But Delan knew how fruitless such a rebellion would be: Cerberus would crush such a thing in mere minutes...a couple hours at maximum.

His legs twitched as they tried to move, while Delan desperately tried to reach his centurion overseer on the radio, only to be met with crackle: more than likely his radio was damaged Smoke alarms continued to blare, and Delan finally turned to the right to see flames licking at the former door, the remnants of the doors twisted and jammed into the wall, the rest scattered in shreds of metal littered across the floor, marring its surface.

Multiple thuds could be heard, Delan turning to see four assault troopers from Lima arrive, their weapons raised. One of them spared him a glance, before motioning two of the troopers forward to investigate. They gingerly stepped over him, ignoring Delan completely, who reached out a hand to them, almost begging for assistance. But all the lead trooper did was shout orders, the other three complying and completely ignoring him. Delan let his arm fall, clearly not getting the attention he needed to survive.

He turned to the flames, watching the two troopers approach the flames, flanking each side of the doorway, careful to make sure they weren't ambushed or outflanked, even turning on flashlights to see into the darkened storage room, the power obviously having been switched off by whoever had decided to attack Polyphemus.

Four gunshots echoed out, and Delan literally blinked once, opening his eyes to find all four troopers on the ground, dead. The soldier shouting orders, along with the trooper next to him, had collapsed onto the stairs, weapons landing on their chests. The two troopers investigating the doorway had fallen forward in numerous positions of limbness. Between all four of them, headshots had been the cause of death; holes drilled through the foreheads of their helmets, blood leaking out of the wounds.

Delan kept watching the doorway as blue energy suddenly surged through the storage doorway, dousing the flames almost immediately with the sheer kinetic energy. With several hisses the flames died, the smoke alarms continuing to blare as what smoke remained hung in the air, reducing the visibility, even with the lights on. Despite this, Delan could not mistake the lithe form of a human woman stepping through the doorway, body washed in biotics, the dark energy leaking from her as it evaporated. A single phalanx heavy pistol rested in her grip, and she stalked towards him with a sort of swagger only a person who was confident in what they were doing could have. She was, as far as he could tell, alone, with no one following her through the doorway. Her hips swayed from side to side, and her otherwise curvaceous body was thickened by what looked to be light body armor, no particular insignia or logo on it to identify her with.

She stopped beside him, looking over the stairway, not seeming to notice him. Another moan left Delan's lips, and she finally took notice, looking down at him with an almost quizzical expression. With a shake of her head, she raised her pistol, took aim at Delan's face, and pulled the trigger.

Miranda Lawson lowered the pistol, grabbing a fresh thermal clip from her hip and slotting it into the weapon. She flicked her head to the side, reaching up a hand to curl her long, slender black hair behind her right ear. Her other wise pleasant features had a flick of red blood dripping down her cheek. She was unused to wearing armor, but found a sort of comfort in wearing it, even if it was the courtesy of the Systems Intelligence Administration. She kicked at the dead soldier she had just killed, a hole in his head where his nose likely had been. She had been quick and efficient, without hesitation.

I managed to kill four assault troopers in just a second. I've still got it.

She may not have been as perfect as she was previously brought up to believe, but she was a near perfect shot with a pistol.

Time to find out what this facility has for me.

Polyphemus hadn't been hard to find for Miranda. The facility was kilometers in height and length, and it stood out amongst the otherwise barren and lifeless surface of Sanctum. Getting in had been the challenge, but after hijacking a Cerberus kodiak shuttle and managing to get herself some access codes, getting into the facility had been too easy. Of course, what hope she had of a stealthy infiltration had been dashed with that explosion.

Shouldn't have used that C7, but I needed to get through that door and the security here is tougher than I thought it would be. Guess they must be hiding something important here.

Wiping the blood on her cheek away, she turned back to the stairway, noticing the sign engraved on the floor that said 'Science Deck.' Knowing that is where she wanted to go, she raised her pistol and jogged down the stairs, advancing towards the doorway at the very bottom: exactly where she needed to go.

Miranda's mission, despite working as a contracted agent for the SIA, remained the same: she would find her sister, Oriana. She just knew her father was involved, but she also knew Cerberus was involved: after all, only the Illusive Man had known where Oriana had been taken after rescuing her on Illium a year ago, and her father had joined Cerberus shortly after Shepard was imprisoned, so it stood to reason the Illusive Man had reason to abduct Oriana for her father, especially if he wanted revenge for Miranda defecting to Shepard's cause and 'betraying' Cerberus.

Either way, she just knew she'd find information on her whereabouts. Henry Lawson was anything but subtle, and his loud mouth meant he couldn't stop himself from gloating about his prize, especially one so 'important' to him as one of his experiments in establishing a legacy of perfection.

I will find you, Oriana. Worry not of that, but what I'm going to do to father when I find him.

Miranda sneered somewhat at that thought, wondering and worried just whether or not her father actually had Oriana, and what he had done to her since abducting her if he did. Experimentation? Or perhaps he had already managed to create the 'perfect' daughter, and had decided to 'decommission' her...

She discarded such thoughts, focusing entirely on the mission before her. Her weapon gripped tightly and her eyes ever scanning to ensure none of the defenders got the jump on her, she descended the steps, reaching the door at the bottom. Turning, she backed into a wall on the side, holstering her pistol as she got out her omni-tool and began to access the terminal infront of her. Utilizing the same virus she had used to access the facility's access codes, she managed to brute force her way into the facility's mainframe, giving her access to what she needed to shut down: alarms and surveillance.

Sure, it was likely she'd already been spotted by surveillance by now, but any further compromizations of her cover would increase her chances of success...especially if the enemy wasn't aware of her exact whereabouts within the facility, or her destination.

Of course, I wouldn't have to worry about surveillance if Shepard and his squad were here. We could just storm the place and take what we need...

As she hit that final command for the local security cameras to shut down, she couldn't help but smile warmly at the sentiment. She missed the squad, including the Normandy itself, as she had ever since having to leave the ship. But she had spent her time well, doing her best to prepare the galaxy for the Reapers. But Cerberus had been relentless in their search for her, the Illusive Man no doubt wanting her dead because of the security risk she posed. Of course, having been ex-Cerberus, Miranda had managed to evade them at every turn: her deadly game of cat and mouse proving to favour her side. All she had to do was run from place to place, all while doing her best to fullfill her promise to Shepard of getting ready for the inevitable invasion that was now upon them.

And then Cerberus abducted her sister. Or, to better put it, her father, now working for Cerberus, had abducted her. Miranda had been evading a group of Cerberus assassins in the Attican Traverse when she had received the news from Oriana's parents, telling her that Oriana had gone out one night to a friend's birthday party and never returned. Almost immediately, Miranda had figured out it was Cerberus: she had no concrete evidence, but it had to be them. How better to get the defector out of hiding and into the opening than to lay a trap they couldn't possibly refuse?

It was cold and calculating. It was something the Illusive Man was fully capable of doing. Hell, it was something Miranda would have done, back when she was the 'ice queen'.

Guess I still am, just without the pro-human agenda to go with it.

But with the Illusive Man and Henry Lawson now warming up to each other and Oriana in Cerberus custody, Miranda was in serious trouble. Her father was an egotistical bastard intent on creating an army of genetically perfect 'daughters' out of test tubes until he established his eternal legacy: combine that with the leader of a powerful paramilitary organization with a vast wealth of resources and manpower, and you've got a recipe for bloody catastrophe.

She cursed as she turned to the door infront of her, checking her motion tracker for movement beyond it. There was none. She gripped her pistol more tightly, holding it up until it was level with her head, tapping the haptic interface and ignoring the irritating wail of alarms as she stepped through the door into another hallway, quickly closing it behind her and taking cover behind a pair of crates to her left so she could assess her new environment. With a final tap on her omni-tool, she locked the door, making sure any pursuers would have a hard time following her.

She gritted her teeth in anger, shaking her head. Can't believe him. He gave me safe harbor from my father by letting me join Cerberus, and now he's working right alongside him. How long have they been working together? Was it the Illusive Man who helped my father find Oriana whilst under the guise of a helpful beneficiary? How long has he been stabbing me in the back? I thought I knew the man behind Cerberus. The man behind the cause. Perhaps I've been feeding myself a lie the whole time.

The Illusive Man's current military operations and failed invasion of the Citadel had shown just how much the man had truly fallen. He had to be stopped.

But for now, Miranda needed to find Oriana. And fast.

Polyphemus facility was hardly new fruit. Built in the 2170s as an eezo processing plant run by Dick-Wolf Energy, the facility on Sanctum survived until early 2180, when demand for the facility's eezo began to plummet: not only was Dick-Wolf's prices too exorbitant compared to its rival, Eldfell-Ashland, but it was also in shorter and shorter supply, which meant Dick-Wolf was unable to keep up with the demand. Eventually, to save their company, Dick-Wolf sold most of their eezo processing facilities, including the one on Sanctum. Specifically, the company that bought the Sanctum facility was none other than Haribon Military Industries, one of many of Cerberus' front corporations.

Under the guise of a Haribon operation, Cerberus quickly refurbished the facility to their needs, and so Polyphemus was secretly commissioned by late 2180. Polyphemus was turned, inside and out, into a facility run jointly by the scientific and military wings of the organization. Apparently, it had grown even larger by the time of the Reaper War, likely by order of the Illusive Man himself. Now Polyphemus was a military-industrial supercomplex, pumping out scientific abominations for Cerberus to use seemingly in their war against everyone. There was no doubt that Polyphemus needed to be shut down, and there was no doubt her father would have used this facility for much of whatever research he using Cerberus' resources to carry out.

She was here to do one and find out the other.

She hadn't come alone: she had deployed with two squads of SIA operatives, dressed for combat and coming with enough explosives to deal with the facility. Cerberus had to be dealt as many blows as possible, and they would make sure of that. The facility's central reactor was located deep within, but with Miranda's loud noises and distractions, it would give them plenty of opportunity to penetrate deep within and reach their goal. While they blew the reactor, Miranda would find what information she needed: they would link up again, exfill and then make for the atmosphere before the detonation undoubtably tore the facility apart.

Don't want to be here when they blow that reactor, and they certainly aren't going to wait around for me, so I better find this intel quick and get the hell out of dodge.

She peaked up over the crate she hid behind to see if anyone was coming: if Cerberus were aware of her location, they weren't trying very hard to stop her: None of the doors, left or directly ahead, opened once, and from what her omni-tool was telling her, she hadn't tripped any silent alarms: at least not the ones where omni-tool picked up. So either they were laying a trap, or...

Or the SIA are causing a lot more of a ruckus than I am which, in that case, is a boon for me. Less resistance the better.

She shot up, holding her pistol still, only for the door to her left to shoot open. Her head snapped to look at the incoming bogies, finding a centurion, leading at least a dozen assault troopers and two guardians, moving through the door. The centurion immediately spotted her, yelling at his men to open fire. Weapons were raised, fingers on triggers.

Miranda assessed the situation very quickly in that moment. Too many for me to take on. Biotics...still too many for them to be effective. Likelihood of reinforcements would be high. Likely already alerted the rest of the facility.

She made her decision.

To hell with it.

She sprinted for the door, a hail of projectiles flying through the area she had been standing a mere second ago, filling the nearby wall with holes. She slapped the haptic interface and rolled through the door, quickly spinning on the spot and aiming her omni-tool at the junction box, a single command sent straight to it: the same one she had been using for the rest.

Footsteps were heard as the door slammed shut with a thud, the haptic interface turning crimson and beeping repeatedly as the troopers likely beat at it out of frustration. Orders were being shouted, and from what Miranda could hear, the centurion had indeed alerted the rest of the facility to her presence. Part of the plan regardless, but still annoying nonetheless.

Turning to look down the corridor she was in, she found a large hallway stretching out over a hundred meters. At the end of the hallway was a sign she couldn't read, but knowing this was the science deck, it likely led to the labs. The right side of the wall was made entirely of bulletproof observation windows, allowing a clear view of the bitterly horrid environment outside, grey snow dropping in large clumps, coating the mountains that Polyphemus was built into and making the area look like it had survived the aftermath of a volcanic eruption. Suffice to say, it was not a pretty look, and Miranda tore her eyes away to focus down the hallway.

Okay, the labs. That would be our best bet. Classified information, confidential files, all their dirty little secrets...my father no doubt left quite the breadcrumb trail there. The question is...how to get in there? No doubt security will be tighter here than anywhere else, and with that centurion knowing where I am, they'll have caught onto my plan and will likely initiate a lockdown.

The fuck am I standing here for then? Move, woman!

She sprinted down the hallway as a voice came over the PA, likely the director of Polyphemus. It was a deep male voice, although it sounded slightly croaky. Without a doubt, given their voice was normal, they weren't the average Cerberus trooper, "We have an intruder in the base. All combat units, I am raising the alert level to Level Omega. This is not a drill. All available combat units will report to the science deck to deal with the intruder. I repeat, all combat units will report to Science to dispatch the security threat. Target is of unknown affiliation, but presume UGC involvement. Target will likely be heavily armed, and has a firm knowledge of our security protocols, so make sure combat engineers are evenly distributed. The Science Deck will remain on lockdown until the all clear is given. Director Eastman out."

Shit. Got to move!

As the director's words finished, the lighting changed to a blinding white, temporarily causing her to lose focus before she remained momentum. She tripped on one of her feet, causing her to fall to one knee with a wince. Growling, she got back up and continued her mad dash for the laboratories, the sign now legible and confirming her suspicions. Alarms began to sound as a VI spoke, "Main Laboratory lockdown in accordance with emergency alert level Omega. Remain calm and stay at your stations. Director Eastman has initiated a level Omega alert..."

Shut. The. Hell. UP!

Just as she reached the end of the hallway, a security bulkhead began to lower at an alarming rate. Angry, she summoned her biotics and wrapped them around the door, forcing it up and holding it there as she closed the distance between her and the door. With a grunt, she slid under the door, biotics dimming. She gasped as the door suddenly and without warning slammed into the ground like a guillotine, loud screaming metal being heard as bolts and latches moved into place, locking the thick blast door into place: she swore she also heard the sound of plastic being crushed, but dismissed it as she took in her new surroundings. Standing up, she took a moment to regain her breath, before raising her pistol to check her ammo.

Only to realize she no longer had it.

She turned back, looking down at the ground as her shoulders slumped, witnessing the remains of her phalanx pistol scattered on the ground, shattered into pieces like bits of glass. She realized that sound she had heard was the door landing on her pistol as she dropped it to summon her biotics, crushing it under its enormous weight of a few tons. She cursed her recklessness, realizing she now only had her biotics to protect herself.

Fortunately and unfortunately for her, the door to the labs happened behind her, and a few footsteps were heard.

She spun around, biotics immediately summoned as she sent a biotic flare slamming into the unwanted visitor, the assault trooper atomized from top to bottom in the resulting blast. His rifle clattered at her side; a Mattock heavy rifle.

Ergh, I hate rifles. But I do need a weapon.

With a sigh, she leaned down and picked up the rifle, ignoring the hiss of burnt metal and the smell of sizzling blood and gore as the remains of the trooper almost literally painted the walls around her with a foul odour and the undesirable sound of melting body parts. What was left of his torso slid down the side of a wall to thump on the ground, an ever increasing pool of the former human's liquids pooling out across the floor.

I hate using flare. Always leaves a mess.

Picking up the rifle, she shouldered it, familiar with how to use the weapon because of her experience on the Collector Base: the squad had been taught how to use every kind of weapon, making sure they were far more versatile and adaptable as a team. Rifles still felt awkward to use though, with the idea of a shoulder stock completely alien to someone who prefers pistols and SMGs. Still she managed to get it into a comfortable spot, and checked the magazine.

60 rounds. Should do fine. Almost a full clip.

Looking up, she carefully walked through the doorway, trying her best to minimalize the amount of blood she stepped in, although doing so was an inevitable task. By the time she cleared the door, the bottom of her soles were caked in the stuff, and some had dripped from the ceiling into her hair, making her feel like she had just walked through a sewer drain, the warm stickiness of it unpleasant and most of all, unwanted.

I'll probably need a warm shower after all this. Or two. Depends how many I need to get the stench off. And make no mistake, the stench was bad.

No idea how Shepard managed to make a career out of this. All this destruction, death...he'd have to be made of tougher stuff than most others.

Of course he is. He's Commander bloody Shepard. He's got the flippance of a fellow Aussie, the knowledge of weapons that comes with being a Yank, and the stone cold determination of a Pom. He is made of tougher stuff than the rest of us.

She did a quick scan of the immediate area before slowly lowering her weapon, taking in her surroundings. The area was clear due to the lockdown, and she took a moment to assess where she was. A few desks lay cluttered around, datapads still open and active, streaming data at an insane pace, terminals switched on and switched off all over the place. Most of the chairs were knocked over or twisted at weird angles, suggesting a recent evacuation of the entire lab: likely due to the lockdown. As she moved along, the same could be said for the practical laboratories and the few test chambers she came across along the front area. Frowning, she moved into the adjacent corridor, checking both sides before heading left, moving towards the sign pointing towards the Experimentation and Technology wing.

She had a nagging feeling what she wanted would be in there.

A few more twist and turns greeted her every move until she finally came across a short hallway containing three doors: a blast door directly ahead, one on the left and one on the right: all three of them were labelled in order going clockwise from the front door: ExperLab 1, ExperLab 2 and ExperLab 3. She could hear numerous voices from within, including a few electronic warbles that had to be Cerberus soldiers.

I can hear one female voice, so that's either a nemesis or a phantom. Must be careful though...no idea what else could be in that room. Anything from a standard assault trooper to those pain in the ass dragoons...

She raised her rifle, slowly moving forward while keeping eyes downrange and focused on the tridoors. One hand remained firmly near the trigger, and she did her best to mask her footsteps so that her presence wasn't given a way; the more of a surprise she got them in, the better equipped she would be to dismantle them.

All I need is to gain access to that database...see what they have, and where they're keeping Oriana...

She got close enough to the door to hear what they were saying now, keeping one ear close enough to hear every word with clarity.

"Eastman wants the whole sector locked down. Nothing is getting in or out," one soldier stated, clearly a centurion based on their authoritive demeanour.

"But we have delicate work in here, work the Illusive Man ordered himself!" a female, likely one of the scientists, objected, voice hoarse and desperate, sounding somewhat elderly, "There is months of work on these computers! If the intruder gets their hands on them, tampers with them in anyway...the Illusive Man will have your head and mine!"

"Nothing will get damaged and the intruder won't get any further than the blast door outside," the centurion replied again almost casually, as if sure he had the situation under control, "That blast door is too thick for any explosive: you'd need a Cain to blow through it, or a thousand Hydra missiles. Security will find the intruder, take them out and business will return to normal. Now sit down doctor, before you give yourself heart burn."

"Lifeless pieces of trash!" Another scientist shouted angrily, a loud thud being heard. A gasp of pain was heard, likely from the scientist, either because he was punched or because he made the mistake of punching the soldier's armor, "All you know to do is to follow orders! No adaptability whatsoever! Our commandos could have done better then you. Who were you? Probably just some random colonist! Yeah, let's supplement semi-trained and capable commandos with colonists we outfitted with cybernetics, slapped some armor on, gave a weapon and told them to fight Reapers for us. Yeah, great idea."

"Simon, sssshhhh!" another scientist pleaded, a second female, "If you anything like that again, they'll kill you!"

"Cut the chatter," the centurion snapped, "I want absolute silence until this matter is resolved. Until then, shut your mouths and stay put. This'll soon blow over and you can continue...whatever it is you do."

"We reverse engineer Reaper technology," the man named Simon sarcastically stated in response, "The same shit that led to freaks like you being made."

A crunch and a cry of surprise was heard, followed by a thud.

"Simon!" one woman cried out. A moment later, another male scientist spoke up, sounding angry, "What the hell!?"

"I told you to shut up. Now shut the fuck up or you'll be next in line for a broken nose," the centurion replied firmly, and any further objections were silenced...at least from what Miranda could hear.

Good, they don't know I'm here. Time for a little surprise.

Her hand reached down to her hip to grab one of the two pieces of C7 she had left. Pulling it away, she strapped it to the first door, before strapping the second next to it for good measure. Making sure they were primed, she quickly ran back down the corridor, reaching the end and taking cover behind one of the walls, ducking into a crouch. Without waiting another second, she thumbed the detonator.

Twin explosions blew the door apart, tearing it off its hinges and sending it flying inwards to shred its occupants. Smoke coughed up into the air, the blast wave sending it cascading down the hallway, impacting Miranda and causing her to splutter from the sheer intensity of it. Her eyes watered as she stood up and moved deeper into the cloud, eventually reaching the doorway where a large blaze was brewing from the blast, quickly spreading across half the room. Alarms began to sound, but they weren't smoke klaxons: they knew she was here. She had to be quick.

The nemesis had been killed in the explosion, buried under a large piece of what was once the right part of the door. Seven scientists lay dead, including who she presumed to be Simon, who's entire right side was on fire, likely having been consumed in the blast. A female lay ontop of him, a piece of metal having impaled her through the back and speared her to him, her body also engulfed in flames and unrecognizable.

Five other scientists had been killed in the blast as well, with only one looking to have survived. Unlike the nemesis, the two assault troopers, one combat engineer and one centurion had been unharmed, although they were staggered and unable to put up a fight.

Ruthlessly and without really thinking about it, she raised her rifle, snapped to her targets, and put them down, one by one, with shots to the back of the head. It was so methodical that within mere seconds, all the surviving Cerberus troopers were dead, the back of their skulls exposed from being blown apart by the high-powered rounds of the mattock. Miranda was also surprised by the recoil on the weapon, having to bite back numerous grunts with each shot due to the kickback.

Silence fell upon the room as Miranda lowered the rifle, taking the time to loot the dead bodies of the fallen troopers for thermal clips and grenades, of which she found many, taking as much as she could handle. When she was done, she turned back around, ready to begin her search through the database for the information she wanted.

Only to have an epiphany and realize she had neglected the one other survivor of the room, who now had his shaking hand raised up, pistol with it, aimed at her head.

"Drop it, bitch!" the scientist shouted, hand still shaking uncontrollably. He brought up his other hand to stabilize the shaking one, but it did next to nothing, "Put down the weapon, strip the armor and get on your back! Do it now!"

She paid him no mind as she biotically grabbed the pistol and wrenched it from his weak palms, throwing it across the room. The now defenseless scientist stood flabbergasted at what had just occurred, getting no time to act when Miranda closed the gap between them and clocked him across the face with the butt of her rifle, breaking his nose and sending him reeling to the ground in pain and shouting curses, blood pooling from his nostrils. He continued to wreathe around in agony, and Miranda raised her rifle once more, ready to finish the job.

Then it occurred to her.

Why search through the database when I have him to tell me?

Judging by his uniform, something Miranda had seen many times throughout her career in Cerberus, the scientist was of senior rank, and therefore would be privy to highly classified information. What if he knew where Oriana was?

A few more seconds of contemplation, and she nodded inwardly to herself, although the gun did not lower, Miranda not trusting the scientist to not attempt to make a lunge for her.

Interrogation it is then.

"Stop screaming or I'll kill you right here, right now," she snapped at the man, who was continuing to be hysterical. Apparently however, he had heard her words and the venom behind them, because he almost immediately stopped moving, shoving himself back against a wall, hands over his head in sheer terror.

"Stupid bitch, you broke my nose!" the scientist growled, pinching said nose only to cough and splutter as he choked down another screech, "You're in big fucking trouble, you dumb whore! You have no id-" he opened his eyes and looked up at her, seeming to finally recognize her, "Wait...you're..."

"Lawson, if you please," Miranda smirked down at him, surmizing correctly that the more sadistic she looked, the more likely he would be to break, "Bitch is such a pejorative."

He sat there, shocked, for several moments before finally laughing, the sound strained and full of discomfort, "You made a big mistake coming here. Director Eastman will enjoy reaping the rewards of killing you. You're one of the Illusive Man's most wanted, you fucking traitor."

Miranda sent a simple biotic ripple at the man, causing him to stiffen against the wall, but also cry out from the sudden seizure of his limbs. He growled, bitting down on his tongue as blood began to dribble down his lips. He spat it at her, eyes full of malice.

She remained unchanged, smiling smugly all the way, "That's the Illusive Man's loss. He lost his way, forgot what Cerberus was about. Protecting and serving humanity."

"That's exactly what we stand for!"

"A convenient lie," she spat back, stepping forward until the barrel of her rifle connected with his forehead, "But why do I care? What happens within Cerberus is no longer my concern. My only concern is defeating the Reapers...and finding my sister."

The man just frowned at her, and when she said nothing further, he spoke once more, no longer yelling or full of vitriol, "The fuck are you looking at me for? Cerberus is doing what it has to to defeat the Reapers, but in our own way. As for your sister...why do I give a fuck?"

"Cerberus took her," she snarled, making sure he knew full well that a rifle was aimed and ready to fire into his skull, "I know my father is working with the Illusive Man. I know he's using Cerberus to further his insane ends. My father wants Oriana, and now she's disappeared; I know your organization is responsible."

He scoffed, shuffling into a more comfortable position, his legs tucked up against his chest in a near fetal position, "And if Cerberus was into the kidnapping business, why should I care? You're a traitor. If your sister has to pay for your indiscretions and treason, then so be it. Maybe if you beg forgiveness, the Illusive Man might just pardon you and, at the very least, grant you a quick, painless execution and, with some clemency, let your sister go. But only if you hand yourself in."

She smiled, shaking her head, "You must know the Illusive Man very poorly. Do you even remember Paul Grayson? I'm a threat. He's not going to risk letting me live. He'll kill me and let my father keep Oriana for his own ends. No...I'm not handing myself in. Every bridge has been burnt, and I'm going to make sure Cerberus burns with it. Whatever this organization once stood for...it's gone now. You don't fight for humanity, you fight against it. You fight against the whole galaxy."

"We fight for the greater good," the scientist claimed, gritting his teeth, "You can't see that, nobody can. Cerberus has always been about doing what others are too morally virtuous to do. We shed blood so the pacifists don't have to. We assassinate leaders others are too afraid to. We run the experiments others are too restricted to. Everything we do, every little move...there's always a higher purpose. We're no religion. We're an NGO. We are humanity's sword. The unwanted ally, the necessary mediator."

The Cerberus motto.

"I don't give a shit what you believe. I'm not here to win an argument with you," she shook her head, motioning to the lab around her, "I'm here for my sister. I demand to know where Cerberus is keeping her."

"That's it? You broke into this high-security facility and risked death all to find out where your fucking sister is?" the scientist began to chortle, his laugh an annoying cacophony of coughs and gurgles, almost resembling the sound someone makes when they cry rather than a sound given out of amusement, "You stupid whore."

I pity that nose of his.

She whipped him in the face again, the man screaming in pain as his already broken nose received another blunt force impact, turning already stinging pain into flaring agony. He flopped to the ground, cradling the broken appendage, screeching profanities at her like a wounded animal on its last legs.

"If you say a single word more that isn't about the location of my sister, I will make sure you die a slow, painful death. You won't get any clemency from me," she growled, kicking him in the chest for added measure. The wind practically flew from his lungs as he gasped, eyes closed and tears forming at his eyes, "You think you're experiencing pain? That's nothing. I'm a biotic, and I can think of many ways to inflict some severe agony with them. How about a nice reave? Ever felt your organs liquify and pop inside you as blood fills your mouth and lungs? Would you like to? It's not very funny, especially for those I've used it on."

"Fuck! FUCK!" he cried out, holding up his hands, "Pl-pl-please! Don't, please! I'll-I'll talk! Whatever you need to know about this facility, I'll-"

"I don't give a shit about your fucking facility!" she snarled, kicking him again, "WHERE. IS. MY. SISTER!?"

"I don't know!" he shouted desperately, waving his hands at her as if they would act like a shield if she decided to hurt or kill him, "Why the fuck would I know!? I'm just a goddamn scientist! I don't know anything beyond my cell. Why the hell would I know anything about a single individual!?"

He does raise a good point. Still, he must know at least something.

Luckily, she wouldn't have to go asking. The scientist sat up, still holding his nose as red blood crusted around his chin and lower cheeks, making him look like he had been drinking a whole tub of the stuff. He licked his lips, wincing at the coppery taste, before hurriedly talking, voice hyper and desperate to feed his captor information in return for a possible extension of his lifespan, "I-wait! I can give you information on your father though! Henry Lawson, right? Yeah, I know him! I worked as part of his project! I know what he's doing."

She raised an eyebrow at him, intrigued by his proposition. Well, it's a start. Besides, where my father goes, my sister won't be far behind, especially if I'm correct and Cerberus is holding her.

She lowered the weapon slightly, motioning for him to continue, "I'm listening. No riddles. Give me the information I need to know. Specifics, too."

"Keyhold. He's working as part of Operation: Keyhold," the scientist declared, gulping audibly, "I used to work as part of resource operations. The Illusive Man has devoted a lot of our resources to it: it's our largest operation yet. I got transferred here after the failed attack on the Citadel; no idea why, but I don't ask questions. But while I worked there, we were frequently visited via QEC by your father. He's the director of the whole thing. Said the Illusive Man had entrusted him with the delicacy involved with the project."

Now she was interested. Keyhold? The SIA has picked up mentions of that on Cerberus channels before. That's it, though: only mentions. Cerberus has always been very good at compartmentalization, and whatever cell has been dedicated to Keyhold must be well hidden. Strange the Illusive Man would redirect an asset so well versed in the project to a less secure cell...he was always cautious, never arrogant.

"Keyhold?" she asked, "What is Keyhold? Is it a weapons program? More experiments? What is Cerberus doing with Keyhold? Where is it?"

He shook his head, "It doesn't work like that, you should know that! Keyhold isn't just one location, it's spread over numerous installations. Those who worked at said facilities only knew about their designated station; prevented security leaks. Couldn't risk the UGC finding out about it or where it was headquarted."

"But you're going to tell me," she smiled.

He sighed, rubbing his head, "That's...the thing. I don't actually know where Keyhold is located. I know my specific facility, but that's it. Your father may have communicated with us over QEC, but noone on the project ever asked where he was or where our resources and work was going. It was all very hush-hush. Your father could be anywhere!"

She gritted her teeth angrily, biting back a retort. At least I know what my father is working on. Now I can begin to pay more attention to this Keyhold. If I can find where its headquarted, I bet I'll find Oriana.

But what is Keyhold?

"What is it?" she asked as her final question, "What is Keyhold?"

"I couldn't tell you because I don't know," he shrugged, "Like I said, I worked in resource operations. The military would raid a few worlds, collect some technology. We'd scrub it, pick apart and find what we need, and then it would be shipped off to an unknown location...likely to Lawson himself. We had no clue what it was for, no idea why they wanted it, and we had no idea where it went. All we know is that it had to be something big...the Illusive Man wouldn't have invested so much time and money on it if he wasn't positive of its success."

She lowered her weapon, cursing her luck. I came all this way...only to learn about this. Well, I guess it's a start.

The backup radio in her armor crackled and she turned to the scientist, nodding for him to stay put and to not try anything. He gave no answer as she answered the radio, switching to the necessary channel, "Lawson here."

The head operative in charge of the SIA squad, Mao Kee, spoke through the radio, voice tired, "Charges have been placed on the main reactor and we're oscar mike for the landing zone. Sitrep."

She nodded, "Copy that. Didn't get exactly what I wanted, but I've found out more about this Operation Keyhold. Turns out it's bigger than we thought. Might be worth a look."

"How big?" he asked in return, clearly intrigued.

"Huge, if this scientist is to be believed," she stated, "Enough for the Illusive Man to commit. Given my experience with him, the last time he fully committed to something was the Lazarus project: the one where he resurrected Shepard. If it's anything of that scale, it needs to be addressed. It could be bad for us and the UGC."

"Agreed. But we can worry about that later. Right now, this place is about to be blown sky high. Do you have an exit route?"

She shook her head, realizing the locked down door was her only way through, "Got in just before the lockdown: no way in or out. Going to need an exit vector."

"I...could...unlock the...door for you," the scientist mumbled, clearly defeated.

He was easy to break. Guess the 'incorruptibility' in Cerberus scientists has dropped significantly since Wilson.

"Forget it," Miranda reiterated to her colleague, "I now have a way out. Meet you at the RV point."

"Copy that. You've got six minutes and then we're gone. Kee out," the radio fell silent, Miranda turning to the scientist with her weapon brandished, motioning with it for him to get up. He gingerly did as he was told, and he guided her to the doorway, Miranda remaining ever vigilant for any possible trap he was leading her into.

Down the twisted corridors they went, the bright white lighting of the lockdown remaining persistent during their journey. They finally reached the door in question, stepping past the dried up remains of the dead Cerberus soldier to reach the central bulkhead. He moved to the side, opening up a terminal to find a switchboard, where he typed in his access code. The bright white lighting dimmed to its usual dimness, the latches pulling away as the door slowly opened. He smiled at her, Miranda frowning at the sudden expression of happiness. The smile didn't look faked or forced, it looked confident...

Just as the door was halfway open, the scientist suddenly ducked under it, sprinting down the hallway. Without a sound, she ducked under the door after him, standing up as she took aim at the fleeing scientist. He was just over a dozen meters away from her when he began to shout.

"Guards, guards, guards! Help! Need help down here! The intruder is here! And they've got a-"

She pulled the trigger as her crosshairs landed over his back. The single shot slammed into his back and propelled him forwards, causing him to fall flat on his front, the man screaming from the pain as blood began to pool around him. Before he could continue his screaming, she summoned her biotics and formed a stasis field around him, immobilizing every bodily movement, including his mouth.

Shit, that was close. If Cerberus had found out about the bomb...

Moving over to the scientist, she took aim with her rifle at the back of his head and tapped the trigger once, blowing a hole through the back of his head. Skull fragments and blood splattered across the floor. She didn't spend another second for focusing on him, instead turning to run to continue her sprint down the hallway.

She reached the end when the door shot open, the lock having been finally overridden. Behind it were two squads of Cerberus assault troopers, two dragoons and three combat engineers. Not slowing down, she chose to drop her rifle and summon her biotics once more, body wreathing in liquid blue. If she didn't act quickly, she was going to be torn to shreds by their combined fire.

They all raised their weapons, but she didn't give them a chance to use them. Summoning all her biotic power, she sent a single burst of energy barrelling towards them. The sheer force sent most of them flying, while the rest fell flat on their backs, winded by the blast. Knocked over and unable to stop her, she quickly dashed past them, hoping to get away before they got back to their feet. She noticed one of the combat engineers recovering more rapidly than the others, reaching for his stun baton. She formed dark energy behind one fist before flowing it into the engineer's face, cracking his visor and causing him to fall flat on the ground: unconscious or dead, it didn't matter to her: he wasn't a threat now.

The other door was unlocked, so she quickly dashed through it, throwing aside two more assault troopers and a guardian. She sprinted up the stairs, turning left for the storage room where she originated, finding two assault troopers engaging a pair of SIA operatives. They had their backs turned to her, so she quickly wrapped them in her blue touch, tossed them aside and sprinted through the doorway. Their shuttle, a kodiak in Cerberus colors, sat at the end of the bay, where the rest of the SIA squad were waiting, clad in their usual black and blue. Mao emerged from the shuttle, shaking his head.

"We almost left without you," he stated.

"Glad you didn't," Miranda announced, turning behind them to see the two agents from before climb into the shuttle. She did the same, as did the rest of the squad, Mao ordering the pilot to take off into the atmosphere. As she felt the kodiak left off the platform and shoot away from the facility, Mao turned to her, both of them standing and holding onto the support straps on the ceiling, "You going to tell me about this Keyhold now?"

She exhaled, shaking her head, "We've got next to nothing, Kee. Aside from knowing my father is involved, my sister's disappearance is somehow connected and that the Illusive Man values it highly, we've got zilch. I'll have to devote whatever time I've got now to finding more about it."

He nodded, "Once we return to HQ, I'll make a plea to the brass for us to devote resources to helping you."

She thought about his proposal for a moment, before eventually shaking her head, "No."

"No?"

"No," she repeated, "I have to do this on my own. I'm not endangering any lives other than my own on a personal matter. And believe me, I have a large personal stake in this. Besides, I know more about Cerberus than the SIA does, and having a few agents help me will only slow me down. I'll stick with that I've got, and that'll have to be enough. I thank you Kee, I really do, but I need to be a lone wolf on this."

Kee scratched the side of his face before shrugging, "That's your death wish, I guess. Can't say the agency will be happy about an agent essentially going freelance, though."

"I'm a third-party informant and military liason, not an SIA employee. They can't tell me to do anything. If they want to, let them try," a colossal explosion followed her words, followed by many more in synchronization, the shockwaves rocking the shuttle even from the thousands of meters it was in the air. She smiled, "At least you got your explosions, Kee."

He smiled, "A nice change of pace from getting our asses kicked. As for your new mission...I wish you good fortunate, Lawson. You're going to need it. Cerberus is a tenacious foe, and given they want you dead, I must object to your decision, but ultimately accept it."

She nodded in acknowledgement, "I understand, and thank you. I'll try not to be too dead."

I'll find you, Oriana, I promise. And I finally know where to start looking.

{Loading...}

August 1, 2186

1628 hours.

Spectre Offices, Citadel Embassies, Presidium, The Citadel.

The Reaper War.

Captain Marcus Lee Shepard.

KarmaQuarian8: We've still got dinner at 8, right?

HeroicMoronN7: Tali...

KarmaQuarian8: Hey...you promised. We haven't had a proper night out for a while, and this may be the last chance we get.

HeroicMoronN7: I'm busy, Tali. You wouldn't believe the amount of bloody reporters requesting interviews has increased. And Khalisah isn't one of them! And then there's the casualty reports. There are hundreds of them. I'm going to be cooped up in here for hours at this rate.

KarmaQuarian8: You need a break. You've been working non-stop, and don't think I don't know how you were before I came back. I've been talking with Garrus. You're going to collapse on the battlefield from exhaustion one day and you'll have no one to blame but yourself. You need this, I need this. We both need it. Besides, I'd be growing to appreciate the Citadel one more time. I'm not looking forward to going back to Omega. Keelah, what a garbage dump. And to think Aria loves that station so much she's willing to go to war for it.

HeroicMoronN7: It may be a garbage dump Tali, but some garbage has its uses. We need to take Omega. Besides, think it of this way: we'll be on the offensive for a change.

KarmaQuarian8: You're right. He needs to die. The Illusive Man, I mean. They all do.

HeroicMoronN7: All in due time, honey.

KarmaQuarian8: So is that a yes for dinner or a no. In which case for the latter, I guess I'm going to have drag you down there.

HeroicMoronN7: XD. I guess I can't win, can I?

KarmaQuarian8: Not a chance. You should know that by now.

HeroicMoronN7: *sigh* Fine. I'll go. 8 O'Clock it is. I'll see you then.

KarmaQuarian8: Good. Anyway, better get back to work. I am chief engineer, or have you forgotten?

HeroicMoronN7: You texted me!

KarmaQuarian8: Love you. :)

He chuckled, shaking his head. You simply can't win with a woman.

HeroicMoronN7: Love you too, yol'tiya.

He switched off his omni-tool, wiping his face as he returned to the terminal infront of him, shifting his stance to a more comfortable position. He had indeed been there for at least an hour, and had planned for longer. He hadn't forgotten about their 'dinner date' as such, but when one saw the amount of reports, it was easy to lose hope in getting any kind of recreational time to themselves. Still, a date was a date.

And I have no doubt Tali would drag me from this office to the Presidium for dinner. So best not to tempt fate.

He sighed, rubbing his face as he scrolled endlessly through the reports and emails in his inbox. There's so many of them...pleas for help, messages of thanks, reports full of the dead of a battle and the few survivors...this nightmare needs to end.

...serve us...

He bit on his lower lip, pinching his temple in frustration at the subtle and familiar pain he felt up there. Stay out of my head.

...cannot resist...

Whatever.

He had figured out a solution for these 'headaches' of his. In one swift movement, he shook his head violently, listening for a moment before sighing in content, but also out of exasperation. The voice was gone, but now his neck hurt.

Anyone else saw that, and they'd think I'm somekind of psycho, shaking my head like that. Best make sure to do that in the privacy of myself. Not even Tali should see that.

If he were honest, the voices in his head bothered him. His experience with the Reapers and their minions made sure he was well versed in the effects of indoctrination and what it did to their puppets after long periods of time. Saren, Matriarch Benezia and now the Illusive Man were prime examples. More recently, he read a report from the Thessian military of a recent bombing that wiped out much of their higher leadership, a terrorist action attributed to the Reapers, who are, for obvious reasons, unable to claim responsibility, although the likelihood of it either being them or Cerberus was high. Worse still...the woman responsible for the bombing was found to be Rana Thanoptis.

Should never have let her off on Korlus...hell, shouldn't have let her live on Virmire. Not that it was her fault, but it should have been obvious from the get go she was indoctrinated...she didn't even know it, not until she was completely under their control: a mindless husk for them to use as they please. How many more have fallen to that curse? Will I be one of them?

Not if he had anything to say about it.

I've just got to hold out until the Crucible is completed. Then we can wipe out the Reapers. Of course, the catalyst...

Baby steps, Shepard. Baby steps. At the moment, focus on retaking Omega. The rest will come later.

And once again his focus returned to Cerberus. A constant pain in the ass.

You'd think in a war where a race of sentient starships is trying to wipe you out you wouldn't be fighting a paramilitary organization that is supposed to be on your side. But there you have it. While Earth burns, Cerberus is content to conquer stations like Omega, make assassination attempts on key leaders in the UGC and enslave entire planets for an unknown nefarious purpose.

What scared him the most was Cerberus' actions. Their attack and abduction of the colony of Benning was too chillingly familiar. How they did it, why they did it, the fact that their influence under the Reapers was obvious to everyone but themselves...

Too similar to the Collectors. What if the Reapers are grooming them to become the Collectors of the next cycle? That's basically what they did with the protheans, according to Javik. The Reapers indoctrinated a large group of them, made them believe they were part of a separatist movement, and then started a civil war within their ranks to divide the Empire's attention. After the war was over, the separatists became the Collectors. And here's Cerberus, fighting against us and dividing our attention, all of them obviously indoctrinated.

And they don't even see it. Kai Leng. Randall Ezno. The fucking Illusive Man. All of them are puppets of the Reapers, and they are blind to it. But who cares...they were scumbags before the Reapers anyway. They deserved to die then, and they deserve to die now.

Just as he prepared to open a report from Victus on the Palaven campaign, his omni-tool beeped with an incoming transmission. He answered it, EDI's voice immediately coming through his comms unit, "Shepard, I was told to tell you that the Normandy is receiving an incoming transmission over the QEC. It is from Miss Lawson."

Miranda? Haven't heard from her for a while. Not since she started...

"Put her through to here," Marcus ordered, standing up from his terminal to move to the QEC terminal.

"Doing so now," EDI announced, before cutting the transmission. A few seconds later, the QEC infront of him burst to life in a blaze of blue particles, all of them scattering before forming into the familiar lithe form of Miranda Lawson. She wore her new black, skin-tight uniform that was similar to her old white one, but was now black to represent her defection from Cerberus. The absence of a Cerberus logo never went unnoticed with Marcus or anyone else, which was something Jacob had also done while he was alive. The woman looked no different from when he had last seen her, which he guessed was a good sign: her pursuit of her former employer, and their pursuit of her, hadn't changed her one bit.

"Miranda, hadn't expected to hear from you. It's been a while," Marcus stated, bracing against the terminal with a wary grin, "How have you been?"

Her arms crossed, she nodded, smiling back, "No worse for wear. The Illusive Man has done everything in his power to find me, but I've always stayed one step ahead. He's fairly predictable once you've come to know him as I have."

"Fair enough. As long as you're safe," his grin died, sighing heavily, "I'm sure you've heard about Jacob."

Her smile also died, and she frowned, "No, I haven't. What happened?"

He licked his lips, thinking of how to put it. In the end, all he could do was give her a single sombre look. Hopefully she'd get what he was trying to express.

She did. Her head hung low, there was silence between them for several moments. Several moments later, she looked up again, gulping, "How...how did it happen?"

He spoke bitterly, making it known how much he despised the man he spoke of, "One of the Illusive Man's attack dogs surprised us on Noveria. I couldn't draw my gun fast enough. Impaled Jacob through the back, right through his heart. The assassin was Kai Leng."

Miranda's eyes widened at that, looking shocked, "Leng? That bastard is still alive?"

That intrigued Marcus. He looked up, an eyebrow raised, "You know him?"

She nodded, looking almost afraid to talk about it, "I've had the misfortune of having worked with him before my defection. He was...far more zealous in his racism than any other Terra Firma or Cerberus member I've ever met. The sheer hate...it was unbelievable. Didn't help that he was an N7 and essentially the Illusive Man's go-to assassin for when you wanted someone taken out. He's extremely dangerous..." she wiped her eyes, Marcus realizing it must have been a tear she was wiping away. She looked away, taking a deep breath as if ashamed at the display of emotion, "No wonder Jacob didn't stand a chance. Leng is as ruthless as he is effective."

"He's a coward, and he didn't get off Noveria without a scratch," Marcus growled, Miranda seeming taken aback by the venom in his voice, "Before he killed Jacob, I got into a one-on-one fight with him. Without sounding like a braggart, I beat the shit out of him. He had cybernetics, just like me. He was an N7, just like me. And yet I beat him. And then he ran away, came back and made sure to murder Jacob while I was defenseless. Doesn't help that he murdered Admiral Raan's husband before my imprisonment. Let's just say Leng is on my list of people to kill when I next see them."

"It's a growing list, I'm sure," she stated with some dry amusement, although there was little to be found, "I'm glad you told me that, though. I had thought Leng to be dead. Last I heard about him was that he had been tasked with killing Paul Grayson when he attacked Grissom Academy after being turned into somekind of super husk. Rumours were that Councilor Anderson had killed him."

Marcus shook his head, "Some of it is partially true. The attack occurred, but while Anderson did severely wound him, Leng did get away. Anderson did a number on him though; probably explains all the cybernetics. Leng didn't need upgrades to be an efficient assassin, so..."

"The cybernetics were medical improvements, as well as ones for combat. I see," Miranda licked her own lips again, nodding to him in thanks, "Thank you, anyway. I'll have to watch my footsteps more carefully now: Leng has a habit of sneaking up on you when you least expect it. And given how much of a threat I am to the Illusive Man, he'll send his top assassin to kill me at some point. Especially now that I have information on Keyhold."

Marcus frowned, "Keyhold?"

She smiled, shaking her head, "Just a lead I'm following up on. I'm still searching for Oriana, but I've found out that my father is involved with some Cerberus operation called Keyhold, and by searching for that, I might just find her. I must again insist that you not get involved, Shepard. This is a personal matter and while you helped me save Oriana, that was not during a time of war."

He held up a hand defensively, a smile of his own developing, "Don't worry, my hands are tied anyway. It isn't widespread news yet, but Aria T'Loak has just recruited me to help her reclaim Omega. We're going to war, Miranda."

Her eyes widened, "Last I heard Petrovsky was leading that garrison...you'll be up for one hell of a fight, Shepard. Petrovsky's one of the best."

"So I've heard and read," he straightened, taking his arms from the console and crossing them, "But nobody's infallible, Miranda. I've assembled quite the military force to this endeavour. We've recently recruited the quarians and the geth into the UGC, and they'll be donating some forces to help with the assault, including a krogan battalion and, would you believe it, Jack and her students."

The woman laughed, "Oh, we may have never seen eye to eye, but I know when to appreciate a biotic, and given how powerful Jack is, having her on the ground will be invaluable. Wish I could be there, Shepard."

He nodded in agreement, "We're finally doing it, Miranda. We're holding our ground anymore. No more Cerberus ambushes. No more raids. The Illusive Man won't be calling the shots this time. We're taking the fight to Cerberus. We're finally going on the offensive and we're going to win. Defeat simply isn't an option. We have to show Cerberus our teeth. I'm sick and tired of Cerberus always getting the jump on us. The Illusive Man won't be expecting such an attack. We'll have the advantage in terms of surprise."

"Just make sure to never underestimate him, Shepard," Miranda pleaded, "Never make that mistake. You know as well as I that an organization like Cerberus can be deadly when backed against a wall. Don't let Omega be that wall. Take the station, but never let yourself believe it's over. Cerberus won't just fall over. One kick won't do it."

He mockingly saluted her, giving her one of his quirky, cocky grins, "I'll be sure to do that, ma'am. Tomorrow, it'll all be about painting. First step, clear the station of white and gold, then paint it blue. Aria blue."

That managed to make the woman chuckle, something that was very rare for Miranda, "And I should probably tell you to watch out for Aria, as well, but I don't think I need to. You're hardly best pals. But the thought remains."

"I'll be careful, mum," he pointed to her, "That goes for you, too. I may not be able to help you, but if you think you've found the facility and can't attack it on your own...you know who to call. We're ready to whoop Cerberus ass wherever it is, whenever and wherever. Never hesitate to call."

She smiled, "I'll keep that in mind, Shepard."

"Marcus," he corrected, "For God sake, call me Marcus. You're the only one at this point on the crew who doesn't."

"But it's so informal-"

"And you should know we're not very formal," he added, cutting her off.

With a sigh, she consented his point, and nodded one final time, "Marcus, take care of yourself. Send me a postcard once Omega is reclaimed, but don't go sending me invites. Omega...what a shithole. Last time I went there I had to shower three times to get the stench off."

He dropped the smile, saluting her, "Godspeed, Miranda."

"You too," she reached for a console infront of her, typing at it before turning to him with a final smile, and a salute of her own, "Lawson out." And with that, her form exploded into blue particles, dimmed and then faded away entirely, leaving Marcus to look at an inactive projector.

He shrugged, stretching out the muscles in his arms before turning back to the terminal and returning to his previous task. He had roughly an hour and a half before he had to go out to dinner with Tali, who he could at least make a dent in these messages...however miniscule they were.

And so he opened the first, beginning the monotonous, but melancholic, task of reading through the messages of those who relied on him to save them all...

"So...the attack on Omega. I don't remember much of it as clearly anymore, not in my old age anyway."

- Tali'Shepard pav Rannoch.

"Indeed. Aria T'Loak is famous for having taken majority of the credit, but you would argue you had a large stake in it?"

- Reia'Inas pav Earth.

"I would say Aria proposed the idea and little else. Her 'plans' were reworked to the point where it was effectively a UGC military operation. A point she made sure to constantly complain about. It was quite the stab to her pride."

- Marcus L. Shepard.

"Well, do tell. A solid account of the Second War for Omega would certainly help settle the minds of some historians."

- Tali'Shepard pav Rannoch.

"Well, history is written by the victor...unless that victor happens to be me. So, without further a do, here's how the station was really reclaimed..."

- Marcus L. Shepard.

A/N:

Yeah, I know. I've dragged it on and teased you enough. The war to retake Omega begins next chapter. Given my chapter outline, it'll probably be the longest story arc yet, so strap yourselves and get ready for a long, but hopefully epic, ride. This is the Omega arc!

Now, you'll probably be wondering whether or not, when Mass Effect Andromeda comes out, this story will go on hiatus until I finish it. That's a question I can't really answer. Given my current status as a new tertiary student, I'll have to decide my attentions between that, MEA AND Halo Wars 2 AND this fanfic. I'll try my best to juggle both, but if this story goes on hiatus for a while, you'll know why. ;) And yes, Andromeda will factor into this story at some point, but all I can say is that it won't be in Holocaust. How I'll implement it...you'll have to find that out. I've obviously had to change the nature behind it due to how my version of events has gone, so the reason for the Andromeda Initiative existing in MY version compared to Bioware's canonical version will be vastly different.

Until then,

Keelah Re'lai, troopers!