HOLOCAUST
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR:
ADJUTANT
August 6, 2186
0911 hours.
War Room, The New Order Headquarters, Dyuko District, Omega.
Second War for Omega.
General Oleg Petrovsky.
Like the first ANN reports following the Fall of Earth and the Alliance's catastrophic defeat at the hands of the Reapers, Petrovsky was once again baring the brunt of bad news.
He remembered it vividly. He had retired to his personal quarters, located in a building connected to the back of New Order HQ. They were not originally Aria's: Aria's personal quarters had been below, beside the former Lower Afterlife, which had now been converted into an armoury and garage for vehicles, or at least was in the process of being expanded as such. He had made sure her quarters were completely removed, any trace of her residence scrubbed clean from the structure. Where Petrovsky resided now was where her lieutenants had formerly lived, now converted to his liking. Far less luxurious and complex, and more in line with military standard and far more spartan.
A single bed, squeezed into the back corner. Air conditioning built into the wall, only present due to the intense heat of Omega making it a necessity for basic concentration. A sparse floor, carpet ripped up and discarded, looking more akin to the barren surface of Tuchanka than the easy-to-look-at furnishings of a beautifully made deck coating. A desk occupied the center of the room, a vidscreen attached to the back wall. A bottle of the finest Thessian wine perched on the counter, half empty and occupying the same space as a terminal, sheets of datapads and a holographic projector. A single M-23 Hornet rested inside the desk drawer, ready to be drawn if the need arose. The walls were drab and featureless, much more in line with the eroded, dystopian cliche that made up Omega's construction. A window stretched across the back, allowing for a clear view of Omega's cityscape, a jungle of claustrophobic streets, jagged spires, elongated skyscrapers and suffocating columns of smoke.
An unfortunate reminder of the hellscape that Omega was, and always would be. The de facto capital of the Terminus Systems. Seat of the Pirate Queen. The site of a thousand-year-old revolution that had turned up nothing but a criminal hive of malevolence, violence and rephrensible acts ever since it was liberated from the krogan warband that formerly manned it. The very station Petrovsky was tasked with holding, and of which he had set out to improve for the better.
Again, he remembered it vividly. He had been sat at his desk, acknowledging the success of his propaganda campaign, of which he had given control of to Colonel Heather Colwood. It had worked perfectly, with relief centers and populative outreach better than it had ever been. The population was finally beginning to acknowledge Cerberus' goals and came to accept its intentions, knowing full well it was for the greater good of Omega and its inhabitants.
It was June 2nd, 2186 when it happened. Colonel Farland had contacted him via omni-tool, telling him the time had come. That they had arrived. That the war had finally begun, and that he should turn on the vidscreen.
So he did. The Alliance News Network, humanity's primary and most prominent source of news and communication across the galaxy, had been his first choice to find out what was going on. He had immediately switched to the Earth division, knowing that humanity's homeworld would have the most information pertaining to the Reaper invasion. But when he did, all he got was a blank, blue screen, the ANN logo of a spinning projection of Earth, the letters 'ANN' hovering in the middle, painted firmly in the middle, with two simple, but nonetheless harrowing, words beneath.
Signal Lost.
That was it. Eeerily calm, unbecoming music played in the background, making it seem as if the connection failure had been a casual interruption of datastream, and that it would be resolved in no time. But it never was. Hours passed, days, weeks...that same still image, the same unrecognizable, generic tunes, the same two words...they never changed, never updated. And it was obvious why. The Reapers had destroyed all the comm buoys on their approach towards Earth, effectively cutting off Sol from the rest of the galaxy.
June 2nd, 2186 would always be remembered as the date Earth fell.
It was hard. Petrovsky had many country men that he knew that still lived on Earth...after all, he was a man of the Russian Federation, even if he found his allegiances now exceeded national limitations and encapsulated the human race as a whole. No doubt the Reapers had been as relentless and ruthless in Russia as they had in every other nation across the planet, and it was hard to imagine the city he grew up in, Murmansk, burning while the sounds of people screaming and pleading for help echoed through the streets.
The ANN division on the Citadel reported on the situation almost as soon as news was made available to the public. The Alliance had lost Earth, and just barely retrieved their military assets before they ended up like the batarians. Humanity had a military, but it was bruised, battered and broken in spirit. And to think that was only a couple of months ago...
Hearing about the loss of Earth...the capture of humanity's cradle, the very birthplace of the Alliance and the human race...the feeling had crippled Petrovsky, and for days, he had brooded, his mind filled with images of his beloved motherland...thinking about how, for the first time in history, Russia, as he knew it, had been completely conquered, as had the entire planet. So many human nations had tried to do so in the past, committing entire years to doomed military operations that failed to pay attention to the failures of others. And the Reapers had come along, in just one single day, and annihilated every defense the Alliance had, landed across the entire planet, and captured it in just 24 hours.
That feeling of defeat, that feeling of sorrow...it wasn't present here, but no doubt the Cerberus armies of Omega were feeling it. No doubt his colonels were feeling it. No doubt the Illusive Man would soon know about it, and demonstrate concern at where the wind was blowing. For the first time since Cerberus boots had landed on Omega...they had been defeated, immeasurably no less.
Petrovsky's eyes closed, hands splayed out across that very same desk, arms braced against it, his uniform straightened out and impeccably furnished. Outside, he was the measure of military composure, chiselled from stone and entirely unperturbed. On the inside, his conscious weighed heavily with the loss at Tuhi, thinking about every single one of the four thousand soldiers he had sentenced to death in the name of humanity. The Illusive Man's grand army...it was supposed to be unstoppable. It was supposed to be the best equipped force in the galaxy, capable of defeating even the Alliance's veteran marines.
A grand army from which to fight the Reapers with...and it had been so unceremoniously wiped out within an hour. For all his intellect, for all his supposed tactical brilliance and for all the firepower he wielded at his fingertips, he honestly couldn't bring himself to acknowledge anything else. Operation Invincible was in motion, there could be no doubt...and it was a near foolproof plan. It would bring the bulk of Omega's might to bear on the UGC, and with the odds stacked against the invaders, Petrovsky was confident victory would be secured swiftly.
But the Battle of the Tuhi District would not be forgotten so easily. Sure, he was not a sentimental man, or someone was stuck in the past: defeat wasn't an anchor that he allowed to keep himself fixed, weighing him down with regret, remorse and delusions of retribution. He had made it a vocal point to himself that he would never remained trapped to previous mistakes, and that he would only learn and adapt from them, bettering himself in the process and expanding himself as a tactician and as a general. But it was the recent loss at Tuhi that had left its mark with Petrovsky. It reminded him who he was dealing with: that he wasn't just fighting Aria and her disorganized band of radical loyalists.
Petrovsky had the UGC outnumbered, that was certain. If anything had been successful in the Cerberus siege of Aria's bunker, it had been the intel gathered. Enemy forces were evenly divided, with a large contingent of rachni, geth and krogan, but their tactics and behaviour insinuated they were compensating for lack of numbers. This, and their refusal to deploy reinforcements until they were at the risk of being overrun, implied their resources were valuable, and couldn't be dispensed with recklessly. This, and the knowledge of two inbound fleets Shepard wasn't aware of, meant that Petrovsky had a shaky, but firm, advantage to that regard.
But this numerical inferiority was not going to keep the UGC down, and he knew it. As it was, the Cerberus war machine was supposed to be superior in every way: better equipped troops, all of them cybernetically augmented into supersoldiers, a large arsenal of mech support, knowledge of Alliance tactics, secrecy and espionage on par with the STG, and fleets of ships with crews more then capable of taking on any of the UGC squadrons. Cerberus also had the luxury of resources, as the loss of Earth didn't hinder them as much as it did the Alliance...after all, Omega had all they needed.
The problem was they lacked competent leadership. Petrovsky being made commander of their entire military was nice and all, but pointless when he was restricted to directing one single army, while the rest fought across the galactic stage without his supervision, and without following his orders. He was kept completely in the dark, totally unaware of what the other military divisions were doing, and the failure of the Citadel and Eden Prime operations could only be attributed to his own lack of oversight. The Illusive Man kept him intentionally detached from the military affairs outside Omega, and Petrovsky was certain it was damning their entire war effort. As such, command was given to less capable commanders...hence the debacles that were the Eden Prime campaign and Operation: Deathstroke. Even now, the Illusive Man's Operation: Falsehood, which was his bid to capture Aite and secure it from the UGC, was underway, although Petrovsky had no idea whether it was failing or failed, succeeding or victorious.
So while the Cerberus armies and fleets were grand and massive in scope, they were effectively useless against a foe with better leadership. As such, Cerberus was without such hindrances on Omega, and having taken direct command, Petrovsky was confident Operation Invincible would secure the victory Cerberus sorely needed. Its past losses were beginning to wear on the Illusive Man: it was obvious. With his troops being battered left and right, Shepard somehow managing to be everywhere Cerberus was in a timely enough fashion to hinder their most significant activities, the Illusive Man was starting to crack. It was clear he expected results, and the pressure was on for Petrovsky to bring a swift end to the UGC invasion.
If he didn't have me cooped up on this station all the time...perhaps I'd be able to stop these from happening. The Citadel assault may have succeeded if I directed it personally...but of course, the Illusive Man apparently knows best. Although his recent decisions of late have left much to be desired. Sending two fleets isn't going to solve the real issue at hand. Hopefully Ezno and Leng were at least successful in ridding us of Shepard.
He sighed as he snatched up the bottle of wine, inhaling deeply as his nostrils willingly and happily absorbed the sweet, bitter aroma of the alcohol. While Petrovsky wasn't a particularly large fan of the smell, it was ultimately the taste his tastebuds ached for. Walking around behind his desk, he opened a drawer and retrieved a simple glass cup, sliding it onto his desktop before unscrewing the top of the wine bottle. Pouring the glass a quarter full, he replaced the lid and lifted the glass. Not taking the time for his nose to acknowledge the bitter, unwelcome stench, he let his lips tap the side of the glass, the alcohol sloshing in his mouth before he quickly swallowed it, smacking his lips as he appropriated the taste, relishing it. Placing the glass back on the desk, he activated his terminal, pulling himself down into the seat behind it, arm sweeping across to move three neat stacks of datapads to the side as the terminal booted up.
He scratched his beard, clicking his tongue as the terminal finally finished its start up process, numerous tactical status reports from the Tuhi District immediately filling up the screen, scrolling by in miniture pieces of text. Each line detailed something Cerberus had lost: troops, equipment, vehicles, aircraft, artillery, ammo...it didn't stop, the ceaseless lines of data moving by at a rate he couldn't keep track of.
Petrovsky had to wince at the losses...at Amish's losses. Four thousand troops...two entire regiments. Twelve aircraft, seven M45 Goblins, twenty-two D-09 Atlases, fifty-four Rampart-class mechs...and four thousand soldiers. Assault troopers, dragoons, centurions, combat engineers...thousands of potentials snuffed out in a bloodbath. Perhaps Ezno was right...perhaps the risk was too great. Or perhaps the failure lies with me giving Amish complete operational command.
He sighed, rubbing his eyes with one hand before swiping a hand across the keyboard's mousepad to remove the tab, tired of seeing information he had already addressed. The next tab was the proto plan drawn up for Operation Invincible, including proposed troop deployment, division of command, artillery grid bombardment locations, possibility of air support...he had encrypted that particular tab, quickly exiting out of it. That left one, third tab open.
His eyes froze as he addressed this one. It was listed as 'Project Adversity', and was probably the only non-military based tab on his terminal that he had taken to personally addressing it. It was utmost importance to Cerberus' science division, with the hope that it could eventually be used for military applications.
His hand hovered over the keyboard, getting ready to exit the tab. At the last moment, he minimized it, deciding it would be an issue he would need to act upon later. He hadn't acquired an update from Adversity for three months and, at least until now, it hadn't been of any concern to him. But now that the UGC was invading, and considering the failure of the Tuhi siege, he would need to look at it again to decide upon its usefulness. Yet again, it had been something the Illusive Man insisted upon, saying it was of scientific benefit to the human race and would be a perfect weapon to utilize against the Reapers...and possibly against the UGC. Before, Petrovsky hadn't even considered it a viable option, but now...
He sighed, picking up his glass and taking another sip of the wine before carefully laying it back down. The bitter, sweetened taste had a calming effect on his senses and, perhaps more ironically, cleared and filtered his mind so he could focus properly. In that moment, he felt his stomach beginning to ache, remembering he hadn't eaten for 29 hours, and needed to fullfill his appetite. Standing up, he approached the mini-fridge near the back of his quarters, leaning down to open the door, listening as the sealing peeled open. Reaching in, he retrieved one of the four sandwiches he had made for himself, closing the door behind him. It was a simple arrangement: a simple peanut butter and cheese sandwich, with white bread. Enough to keep him fed, but not too obnoxious. Perfectly utilitarian.
Retrieving it from its plastic wrapping, he quickly took a bite out of it, savouring the taste before quickly chewing and swallowing. Returning to his desk, he sat back down, grabbing a datapad and dropping it infront of him. With all his colonels now answering to him, he only needed to wait for the status report on the deployments he ordered, which he didn't expect to reach frutition until tomorrow at maximum. Until then, he was laden with the responsibilities of civilian management. If his colonels were the governors, Petrovsky was effectively the head of state.
Such things were not the matters of military command. The General had never once been given political powers, let alone powers of state, in his entire time: not while in the Russian military, and not while he was in the Alliance. Omega was the first experience he had with wielding this power, and while he strongly disliked, he was happy to bring the people of Omega the much needed change. He heard himself referred to as the unofficial fourth ruler of Omega, and some would even proclaim it to be official, given that Petrovsky toppled the previous ruler, and that typically makes him the next in line. Regardless of what they called him, everybody knew who governed Omega.
Suffice to say, trying to micromanage a military garrison of forty thousand troops and a fleet of hundreds of ships, whilst also looking after and improving Omega, was no easy task. Many things on the station were simply not up to snuff, such as sewrage, taxation, law enforcement, government, law and order, maintenance, structural quality standards, sanitary hygiene, air filtration, water purification, etc. If Omega did have it, it wasn't of good quality. All of these would be things Petrovsky wished to change or be rid of in his bid to make Omega not only a better place to live, but a good place to begin with.
Abusing the mines was...an unfortunate necessity. While Cerberus had secured Omega for tactical gain, there had also been the vast wealth of element zero caches that had made the asteroid famous from the get go, and given Aria had neglected the mines for centuries, Cerberus felt the need to make use of what she refused to. As such, the Illusive Man had asked Petrovsky to bleed the station dry of resources, even if it meant working the ancient machinery to the point of breaking. It was risky, and there was no doubt in his mind that the drills would eventually break or simply stop working, but the General had his orders, and Cerberus did need those resources, as every drop of element zero went towards powering another warship or a new facility or creating more dragoons.
As for everything else, progress was being made. Water purification had been a must, and one of the first things the General had done. Within the first month of his leadership, Omega's water purifiers had been brought up to the highest quality standards the galaxy demanded, matching that of, if not quite as monstrous in scope, to the lakes of the Presidium on the Citadel. Air filtration had been next, followed by establishing an interim government until an official state could be formed. With the necessities made up, Petrovsky had his colonels focus on law and order, as well as governance of their individual quadrants. So far however, it was working: riots were at an all time low, and the Talons were rapidly losing the popular support, which irrevocably led to an increase in Talon desertions and defections. If it weren't for the UGC, he was sure the Talons would have eventually surrendered.
This is how you control a people. To defeat a resistance group. Ruling through fear is what led to Aria's demise: nobody likes a monster, and a monster is only as good as the fear they can generate. People have nothing to lose having nothing to fear from a monster, and soon after, the monster is dead. No, show the people you can be reasonable...that you're benevolent and care for their interests, and they will invite you to rule them. Beg for it. Freedom and security is all they want, so why not give it to them? Any resistance you face will soon vanish once they realize what they're fighting for isn't the public, it's themselves.
It was a simple rule many dictatorships in human history had failed to grasp. North Korea, Iran...where were they today? Eventually, the people get tired of the lies, the fear, the paranoia...and when people grow tired, they become irritable, and when they become that...well, anything can happen. No, better to be loved than hated, and better to be trusted than feared.
He checked the datapad's contents, nodding as he took another bite from his sandwich. Since the UGC's invasion began, Petrovsky had been forced to postpone or outright cancel numerous construction projects, focusing his time and resources on combating the invaders: it was simply a priority. But many of these projects had been doing well before Aria returned: construction of a school in the Hudson quadrant, expansion of a hospital facility in the Styx quadrant, and the steady recruitment of a proper police force. It was all slow moving, and Omega was far from becoming self-sustainable, but it was certainly a step in the right direction, and he was all the more glad for it.
These people have suffered enough under T'Loak. Her negligence and indifference has made Omega nearly unliveable. That will change, and I'll be damned if I allow Shepard to destroy it all. To end all we've built here. He may not know the devil he lays with, but I've actually fought her...selfish and dangerous. She wants the station, not the people, and she'll do whatever she has to to get it. She's a threat to Cerberus, to Omega, to the UGC, to the Talons, to herself. I will stop her. I have to. Shepard may think he fights on the side of good, but when it comes to this matter, he has no idea what he's doing.
Petrovsky had to linger on that, shaking his head. Of course, it likely won't matter much longer. If Ezno and Leng did their job, he's dead and that leaves Aria to command his forces. I shall defeat her as thoroughly as I did the last time. Without him, the threat she poses is heavily minimalized. He read a little more of the datapad before shoving it aside, grabbing another. Still, I find it curious they've failed to report in yet. It's possible they may have been killed with the rest of the 6th and 8th reigments, but doubtful. Guess we won't know until they actually give a report.
As if reading his mind, his terminal began to beep loudly with an incoming comms request. Dropping his sandwich onto the desk, he leaned forward and tapped the holographic keyboard, hearing Colonel Farland's voice filtering through, "General, you told me to tell you if we got an update from Ezno or Leng."
He raised an eyebrow, nodding, "I gather they have?"
"Just Ezno, sir," Farland replied, sounding uncertain, "I think it's best you hear it for yourself. Patching him through."
"Very well," Petrovsky acknowledged, leaning back in his chair, hands clasped infront of him. Professionalism had become more than just a habit: it was a mannerism instilled into the General, and he feld himself unconsciously straighten in the chair, as if mindful of being watched even though nobody was in the room with him.
A few moments later, Randall's voice could be heard, the sound of a grunt followed by body armor thumping against a wall, "General Petrovsky...I apologize for this late report, but I couldn't break radio silence and compromise my location. By now, I'm sure you've heard the reports."
Petrovsky licked his lips, taking careful note that the manhunter's tone was neutral, and that he didn't immediately report Shepard's death. The General wasn't quite ready to jump to conclusions however, giving him time to explain himself, "Yes, none of them good, Major. Tuhi was a complete operational failure. Our entire force was decimated. Not a single man made it out alive...aside from you and Leng, of course."
"Not one?" Randall asked. Petrovsky stayed silent, believing his lack of an answer was the only answer he actually needed. Getting the point fairly quickly, observant as he was, Randall sighed, "Unfortunately, this was doomed from the start. Many errors in command were made here, General. Colonel Amish performed admirably, but I must say that the incompetencies expressed by some of my field commanders were irreputable. I'm afraid our defeat was inevitable."
"But we learnt a valuable lesson here, Ezno," Petrovsky immediately replied, crossing his arms, "If we're going to face the UGC in direct battle, we must lure them into a confrontation. We paid a heavy price this time, but no doubt further mistakes down the road will be our downfall. We must make sure this doesn't happen again. I have plans drawn up for another offensive, one where we will attack from the rear of their base this time, not the front. Foxtrot-Tango." Of course, none of the information he provided was true. He was planning to lure the UGC out into the field, not attack them again. However, the risk that they were listening in on their communications was high, so telling Randall his real plans on an open comm channel would be idiotic: Foxtrot-Tango was a verbal indicator used by Cerberus forces to alert them to the distribution of this false information. Besides, while he was here, he could feed the enemy false intel, make them think he was going to attack again.
Randall nodded, responding in kind, "Foxtrot-Tango."
Satisified that Randall was sufficiently clear on Petrovsky's meaning, he leaned forward, hands clasped on top of the desk, eyes fixed intently on the terminal even though all he had of Randall's presence was audio over secured comm link, "What of the mission? Was Shepard eliminated?"
To his credit, Randall's response was quick and to the point, barely mincing words, "That's a negative. We encountered factors outside of our control, and were unable to complete the set objective. I take full responsibility, General."
Petrovsky nodded, not feeling particularly angry, nor surprised. In fact, he had perhaps known that, deep down, Randall and Leng weren't going to succeed. It just seemed like a certainty from the beginning. Still, he liked Randall for the very fact that when a mission went sour, he took the blame for it: he didn't do the easy thing and shove the blame on Leng. It was one of the many things that made Randall one of Petrovsky's favourite field agents, however brief their tenure working together had been. He exhibited more special forces restraint than his assassin compatriot, "Very well, Major. This is unfortunate, however not entirely unforeseen. We've had many attempts to kill Shepard in the past, and none of have beared fruit. It would be unfair to assume simply doubling up on him would have proven any different, in any case."
"He put up a strong fight," Randall admitted, sounding impressed, "He was outnumbered and outgunned, but the way he was fighting, he had a fair chance of winning. We almost had him though...turns out his absence didn't go entirely unnoticed. Aria T'Loak and some Nyreen Kandros came to his rescue. We were forced to retreat. Well...I was."
That caught Petrovsky's attention. Kandros was there? "You fought Nyreen Kandros? I didn't think someone so morally respectable would ally with another so immorally irredeemable. Perhaps this tiger really does change its stripes." Or perhaps, like Shepard, she was wooed by Aria's promises of change and liberation. Unfortunate. I quite liked Kandros. We both share the same principles, yet we found ourselves on the opposite sides of the trenches.
Randall nodded, "Yes, I fought Kandros earlier before back in the Felmuk District. She appears to be firmly in Aria's camp. Having the Talons helping the UGC could prove to be a real headache, especially if they're feeding intel to the enemy. And after Tuhi...we can't afford to look weak."
Petrovsky shook his head, unclasping his hands and smoothing them over his desk, "Oh, we shan't. Our forces remain strong and we will illustrate that strength through our actions. And with the people still firmly on our side, the UGC will be hard pressed to liberate a population that doesn't believe they need to be. As such, resources will not be pulled for military operations. Keep the population happy and they'll never be dissatisfied," he grabbed another datapad, dumping it infront of him, "Now, if that will be all, I want you and Leng to report back to HQ immediately. There are some details we need to smooth over."
"Sir," Randall began, voice sounding hesitant, "Leng is...MIA. We got seperated while engaging Aria and Kandros. I fought Aria, he fought Kandros. By the time I retreated, I could see Leng falling out a window: he had a knife in his gut. I couldn't risk getting close enough, so I was forced to leave him behind. I'm by myself, General."
This was not entirely unsurprising to the Cerberus general, although there was some element of predictability to it. After all, Leng's cockiness and arrogance could only have lsted so long in combat before Shepard or somebody else finally took advantage of it and killed him, "As unfortunate as Leng's apparent death may be, we must continue regardless. I will break the news to the Illusive Man, although I must warn he will not be happy. Leng was his best assassin." I use the term very loosely.
"Again, I take responsibility. Leng's hesitance to kill Shepard immediately allowed T'Loak and Kandros to intervene as timely as they did. I should have had him kill Shepard," Randall retorted, sounding exasperated.
"Well, regardless of-" Petrovsky began. The terminal beeped again, the General frowning at it, "Hold on that, Ezno." He then tapped the intercom, readying himself as Colonel Farland's voice came through the comm.
"General Petrovsky, sir," Farland opened up, "You have another comms request. Sir, it's Agent Leng."
That caused the General to raise an eyebrow. He breathed heavily, exhaling tightly, "Thank you, Colonel. Patch him through." Apparently our assassin is not as dead as initially thought.
Farland's voice was replaced by Leng, the assassin's voice raspy and breathy, sounding winded and pained simultaneously, as if he had run a marathon from the Ismar Frontier to the Perseus Veil, "General...Agent...L-L-Le-ng...here..." a grunt, followed by a long, drawn out groan of pain, "Reporting..."
"You sound injured, Leng," Petrovsky stated, "What is your situation? Do you require medical assistance?"
The assassin seemed almost annoyed by the question, as if attention being brought to his condition was unwanted, acknowledging that he could indeed be hurt, not to mention killed, "I've...had one of my own knives...rammed into my gut...and twisted...I'm bar..el...y abl...e to walk...But...I'm...alive..." The last word was stressed and almost hissed out at the last minute, as if trying to do so before he died. But he was very much alive, his croaky breathing a testament to this fact. Petrovsky would say he was thankful the Illusive Man's favourite pet was not a corpse, but on the other hand it also meant he now had to deal with the assassin's antics again...antics that had almost cost them men in the past.
"Well...that means you're no longer MIA, and confirmed to not be KIA," the General stated, his voice no doubt sounding entirely unimpressed, "However, you are WIA. I say again, do you require a CASEVAC?"
Leng sounded offended by the idea, growling incessantly, "No...I...will be just fine. I've removed the knife, and cauterized the wound. Walking is a pain, but my regen is kicking in, and it'll be somewhat healed by tomorrow. I've commandeered a skycar and I'm making my way back to HQ now."
He licked his lips, ignoring Leng's statement as he move to address both of them, "As I've already told Randall, I want both of you to report to HQ for debriefing and reassignment. I'll sort out the details when you arrive. Until then, make haste and maintain radio silence. No doubt Shepard will have his men scouring the area to find you if he's feeling vindicative enough. Out of sight, out of mind. I expect to hear from you both soon. Petrovsky out."
The terminal fell silent, both Leng and Randall having followed his orders and gone silent. Pulling back from his desk, he stood up and walked around it, one arm propping up his other as his hand stroked his beard pensively. He was glad Agents Leng and Randall had survived at least, as he would need them for Operation Invincible. And while Amish had lost half the troops under his command, he had the 7th and 9th regiments actively evacuating the Rubicon quadrant, effectively marking Cerberus' withdrawal and capitulation in that sector...at least for now. But quite soon Cerberus would retake Rubicon by storm, and he would lead it himself.
But, if he truly wanted it to succeed, he needed to surprise the enemy. He needed to introduce a piece on the chessboard they weren't aware of, nor expecting. It would undoubtably promise a swift victory, and likely render the need for the large forces he was committing unnecessary. If used...this new player on the field would decimate Shepard's army, end Aria's attempts to retake Omega, sever the head of the Talon leadership and eliminate the galaxy's "savior", all in one hit. Of course, there was one question:
Could he really bring himself to use this new weapon?
Project Adversity hasn't produced viable results for months. Not even a working prototype, or successful field test. Nothing but failed experiments and rogue runaways. I'm beginning to think the Illusive Man is putting too many of his eggs in the Adversity basket, but he seems absolutely sure Adversity will succeed. What's he basing this on? Or is it just the idea of having a weapon so powerful that it could effectively render the Reaper husks irrelevant? Is that what he thinks this is? The answer to the husk?
In the end, he knew the answer before he even came to the conclusion. If Adversity did produce results soon, and they deployed this new weapon as part of Operation Invincible...it would not only be a field test but, hopefully, would prove Cerberus' grasp of Reaper technology. With a final exhale, he reached down and tapped at his terminal, bringing up the comm line for the Project Adversity labs. They were several levels below HQ, in a secured vault to ensure the Talons weren't aware of it, and so their attacks couldn't reach it even if they did. He waited for a few seconds for the call to patch through, before he then heard the female voice of Adversity's chief scientist, Abigale Rowan.
"General Petrovsky," she greeted, her subtle Scandinivian accent just barely picked up by his ears, "We were not expecting a check in from you for some time."
I haven't done so for months. Her surprise is...understandable. I just hope some progress has been made between then and now, for the sake of the station and theirs. The Illusive Man is hard pressed to accept failure, especially during such apocalyptic circumstances as the ones we find ourselves in. "Recent events have revitalized my interest, Doctor Rowan. And given that my last request for an update was submitted in December, and received in early January, I would expect July to yield much more likeable results."
Abigale seemed unfazed by his subtle disapproval of the project, instead replying as if she was reading off a script she had been preparing. The General could almost imagine her standing before her intercom, reading off a datapad, "Admittedly, our last monthly report was...less than feasible. Test subjects are ever so hard to come by, I understand, and we have tried our best to ensure the men sacrificed to bring these specimens to us have not died in vain. The longevity of the test subjects remain our top priority, and we've managed to retain four of the original five."
Petrovsky nodded, happy for that at least, but annoyed at Rowan's evasion of answering his question. This does not bode well. "While I am ever so happy to hear of this Doctor Rowan, it ultimately does not answer my query. Has Adversity succeeded in some respect? Do we have something to field test? Time is of the essence here, doctor."
Rowan exhaled deeply over the comm, taking a moment to gather her thoughts before stating, clearly and crisply, what her science team had achieved, "You may be surprised to hear this, but...yes. We do. Or, at least, we soon will. After months of research, Adversity has finally paid off. However, it is not entirely because of our own brain trust. Outside help from Keyhold has significantly upped our progress. Condensed months of work into just a couple of weeks, actually."
"Keyhold?" Petrovsky asked, frowning, "I've heard this term before. Elaborate?" I've heard it one too many times, in fact. Yet another thing the Illusive Man is keeping from me?
Rowan was not forthcoming, "I'm sorry General, but that's classified. Besides, I could not tell you Keyhold's true purpose for even I was not privledged with that information. All I know is that the research they passed down has given us the key to truly making Adversity succeed. At this rate, we'll have four working prototypes by tomorrow, ready for inspection and introduction into the Cerberus army."
The General held up a hand to stall her, knowing she couldn't see it, "Steady, doctor. I will not be allowing these...things...into my forces until I know for certain they can be controlled with 100 percent certainty. I've lost entire platoons to these abominations...I need integrity, and I intend to observe it before even contemplating their use."
"Of course, General. I would never reasonably suggest deployment without observation," Rowan replied almost cynically, "Like I said, prototypes will be ready for inspection by tomorrow. If you wish to call for an inspection then, we will be more than happy to accomodate you. Should we alert the Illusive Man?"
He hesitated for a moment, furrowing his brow. No. For once, I'm going to analyze this project without his permission. I will not be left in the dark any longer. I will see what fruit this project has bared, and I will do so without him knowing about it. See what he thinks so secretive that his own military commander shouldn't be aware of it. "Yes, I will inform him personally. As for your science team, have them ready the lab by the time of our arrival."
"Our, sir?" Rowan asked, confused, "You're not coming alone? You understand this is a breach of protocol?"
Protocol has me cut off from my armies. For once, to hell with protocol. "I will get it sanctioned. Besides, the men I bring with me are of the Illusive Man's right hand: his best agents. He will approve their presence most graciously, I am sure." At least, I would hope so. It would appear everything is classified, even on my own station and command post. What is he hiding?
"Very good, sir," Rowan replied, "We will make preparations once tonight's experiments have concluded. Good day, General." The comm line then cut on her end, leaving Petrovsky to ponder what he had heard. Soon, the horrors of Adversity would finally be brought to his attention, and he would be able to see exactly what this project had been aiming to do. For all the men he lost to attain those specimens...dozens of good, decent, brave men and women...
...it had better be worth it.
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August 6, 2186
1433 hours.
Abrams & Heplorn Clinic, Gozu District, The Apex, Omega.
Second War for Omega.
Doctor Daniel Abrams.
It was just another day on the job on the Cerberus occupied Omega.
It was really just...that. Another day on the job. There wasn't much else to call it really. He could call it another shitty day under an oppressive regime where his freedoms and liberties were repressed, his omni-tool tapped and watched 24/7, and every street corner he walked around guarded by at least a couple of assault troopers. He could complain about guns being pointed in his face, being intimidated and beaten by power-abusing soldiers, witnessing ethnic cleansing of an entire city blocks as the result of commanders on a standard power trip. Cerberus banners draped from every rooftop, the fear of the people...
But...was that really accurate? When he thought about it, truly thought about it, Omega was actually better than it was. Before, it might have actually been all those things. Blue Suns protection rackets knocking on everyday, demanding fees and those who couldn't pay up either being left to die, beaten to death or robbed. Omni-tools being tapped by digital and tech-based pick pockets looking to make easy credits. Vorcha looking to beat up whatever poor bastard was stupid enough to walk around alone at night. Hell, just last year, a plague like no other had ravaged this very district, almost wiping out an entire population within a week. It had almost been the Black Death of Omega. All of these issues were no longer a problem...
Okay, he had to admit, coming across soldiers at every corner was pretty annoying, especially when they seemed to watch every move you made. Sure, seeing golden hexagons planted on almost every square inch of space they could find was a sight that created sore eyes. And it was pretty embarassing, as a human, to have to walk around a district that had been so ravaged by, seemingly, pro-human attacks in the past: first a "human" engineered plague, and now a pro-human occupation.
But when he seriously took a look around, he realized Omega was safer than it had ever been under T'Loak. No murders or rapes waiting around each street corner. No bodies burnt in the streets. No population-ending plagues. Protection rackets or extortion. No poverty. No sickness. No destruction. No turf wars or firefights. Cerberus put an end to all of that. So while the galaxy called them the equivalent of Space Nazis...on Omega, they were the equivalent of...well, whatever was the exact opposite of that.
He finished typing at his datapad, placing it gently back down on the desk, before looking back up at his patient, beaming a large, proud smile. His patient, an elderly man looking to be in his one hundred and thirties, sat opposite him. Abrams' office had once been that of Mordin Solus, but had since been cut in half, with the other side occupied by Maelon Heplorn, Daniels partner and who of which he was sharing ownership of the clinic. His office was pretty sparse, with just a simple desk, a basic, low-end terminal with the bare minimum for operating software, and a few more odds and ends: a stack of datapads, a Commander Shepard figurine that his five-year-old son had left him as a momento of sorts, and a worklight that hung over him. There was also a bowl seated neatly at the edge of his desk, half full with plastic wrapped lollies. A medbed sat in the corner next to the door, as well as a wash basin with several cabinets full of medical equipment. It was all standard stuff for a clinic...none of it was hospital grade, but it was enough for rudimentary, simple medical advice and attention.
The old man before him had been having heart problems of late, and Abrams had done what he could for him, but his history of strokes and heart attacks were growing persistent. The man was loaded with very expensive medical implants, ranging from the basic pacemaker to lung filters. It was certainly prolonging the man's lifespan longer than that of a similar case in the 21st century, but that's all it was doing: delaying the inevitable. The man was on his last legs, and pretty soon Abrams would have to submit him to hospital. Of course, all he could do now was ease his shortening lifespan with the odd pill or implant inspection.
"You're doing just fine, Mr. Beavter," Daniel assured him, opposing what his medical knowledge actually knew to be truth and what to be fiction. Of course, he couldn't outright tell the man he was going to die: he knew that enough himself. No need to be the constant reminder that Death was coming to claim him within the next week or two, "Although I'm sad to admit this might be our last check up. Your cardiovascular condition has advanced too far for me to be of any further service to you. You will need to make arrangements among your family. I'm so sorry."
The man shook his head, eyes narrowed perputually and wrinkled skin flaky. The man looked so fragile that a gust of wind would blow him apart like autumn leaves. It was thanks to the miracles of Sirta Foundation medical technologies that had allowed for him to even live this long, with the average human lifespan increased to a totality of 150. Mr. Beavter was a very healthy example of a human being, and one who had lived a full life. Two wives, five children, a degree in radiology...not to mention the man had lived through the final years of the 21st century...he had suffered through the restructuring of the global political arena, the discovery on Mars, the war with the turians, the introduction into the galactic community, the brief war with the batarians, the brief war with the geth, the invasion of the Reapers, the fall of Earth, the fall of Omega, the rise of Cerberus, and the coming galactic apocalypse...to say the man had lived a full life would be a gross euphemism.
"Don't be, doc. You've done your best," Beavter's voice was shaky and mild, but managed to remain well mannered and collected, "I knew this day would come. Besides, only family I have now are my three kids...one of them joined Cerberus just a few years ago. I hope she's alright," he seemed saddened by that statement, but didn't reflect on it very long, "...another is in the Alliance. I just hope they never end up fighting each other...family should never kill each other. The only child of mine not in a military is my boy, Jameson...he's a store owner, in the Kima District. I'll put in a good word. You've taken good care of me, doc."
Daniel smiled, watching as the man began to slowly, and carefully, bring himself to stand, "It is my duty to bring no harm to my patients, Mr. Beavter. It is the Hippocratic Oath," he stood, reaching out one hand. Beavter took it and shook it gently, as if afraid he had Vrolik's syndrome, and that his bones would break if too much force was applied, "Nonetheless, you've been a good patient. I quite enjoyed the conversations we've had about...well, everything. You're a very insightful, man."
He noticed Mr. Beavter's eyes drawn to the figurine on his desk. It hadn't been there long: his son had bought it for him months ago, just after the Cerberus occupation began. Daniel looked down at it, finding himself enamoured by it. It wasn't particularly remarkable...it was the form of Shepard himself, clad in HYPERION-107 Special Forces N7 armor sans the helmet, straightened and saluting, not a single weapon on his body. His face was pulled into a grin...obligatory for a kid's toy. His son had been given it for his birthday, but for some reason, had left it on his desk after his wife came to check up on him. He had returned it, but the next day, there it was again. He finally realized after the third time that his son had given it to him...a good luck charm, maybe?
Daniel remembered the last time he had seen the man himself in the flesh. It hadn't been all that long ago, really, "I met him once. Commander Shepard. Not over extranet link, or through a comm buoy...I met him, face to face."
This seemed to pique Beavter's interest. Daniel knew because he remained silent, eyes silently regarding the doctor, willing him to continue. He did sat down, hands gripping the edges of his desk as he just looked at the figurine, drinking in its features, eyes blurring as he momentarily lost focus, "It was during the plague outbreak, just last year. He rescued me from a bunch of batarians who thought I was spreading the plague...you know the paranoia that spread through Gozu," he remembered it vividly. He had soiled his pants, afraid the three batarians would put a bullet in his head and leave him to rot. Then he'd berated Professor Solus for being so ruthless, so uncaring, so cold in regards to this thoughts of simply killing them. What a stupid, naive fool he had been...
"I couldn't believe it," his hands ran up and down his legs, suddenly nervous as he recollected that day, "The man just...talked them down. He talked sense into them, and they let me go. I wanted to help them, but Professor Solus just wanted to kill them...to gun them down. Said they were a threat. I told him doctors help people. It's in the Hippocratic Oath. We will never harm," Daniel just chuckled, tapping the desk idly now, "But he wasn't your typical doctor: he was special forces. STG. I remember what he told me, and while I resented him at first, I've come to except what he said as the truth."
Beavter's voice croaked, ever so curious, "And that was?"
"Sometimes heal patients, and sometimes execute dangerous people," he looked up, meeting Beavter's eyes, "Either way helps. Guess he had a point, right? There's only so many people you can heal before you reach one who just wants to kill you. Then what do you do? You can't break the Hippocratic Oath, but in a way, if you don't, you'll be dead and it won't matter if you harmed them or not. Only the innocent deserve to live, Mr. Beavter. I consider you a good person."
Was I to know those batarians who tried to kill me would execute one of my co workers just for offering them medicine? I probably could have, but I had to be noble. Just. Solus saw it. Shepard must have seen it at Bahak if he blew up an entire star system over it. He regarded the figurine one last time, sighing as he turned away. Those we idiolize, ten times out of ten, never end up being who we thought they were. I thought Solus was a benevolent doctor...and my son thought Shepard was a shining paragon. Ah, the lies we feed ourselves to make the bite of truth less painful.
Mr. Beavter nodded, "If only the innocent deserve to live, then why is Cerberus still here? Why has my daughter joined them?"
Daniel couldn't answer that, simply gawking at the man. He couldn't even muster an actual reciprocal goodbye as the man turned and left, only managing a pathetic grunt as he just sat there, blankly staring at the air where Mr. Beavter had stood moments before.
Cerberus made the dangerous people go away, but in reality, they are the dangerous people. They just got rid of the thugs with guns and replaced them with professionals with guns. Only difference is they know how to aim better.
Just as he broke free of his trance, reaching down to grab the datapad before him, the door opened, with the familiar form of a salarian in a white labcoat stepping through, datapad under arm and eyes darting along the lines of text lining his omni-tool.
"Maelon," Daniel greeted with a restrained carelessness, rubbing his eyes. He had been working late hours, and was barely ever able to see his son or wife because the former was at school and the other worked at the relief shelter set up in the old Suri-Kara hotel in the Kima district. With noone to keep him in check, he was free to work himself to death...as the cot behind his desk, and the line of light stubble lining his otherwise youthful face accompanied with red rings under his eyes, atested to.
Daniel had followed Mordin's advice: he took control of the clinic as he requested, and he managed it pretty well, he liked to think. Then, a month later, this salarian doctor, Maelon Heplorn, turns up at his clinic, asking for a job, listing a large dossier of medical specialties, accompanied by a bitter, but remorseful, taste in his mouth. Of course, Daniel had accepted, not knowing until afterwards that they both had dealings with Mordin Solus. Of course, just under a year later, and Maelon would find himself both saddened and pleasantly surprised when reports of Solus' death were filtered through the comm band, bringing news of the genophage being cured. Daniel would never forget that look on his face. It was of pride.
"Daniel," Maelon replied, grabbing the datapad from under his arm and tossing it onto his desk. He crossed his arms, omni-tool evaporating. He did not look happy, "Explain this."
Daniel knew what to expect, because he knew exactly what Maelon was here for. He craned his head in pretend however, acting as if he was actually reading the contents. He sighed, leaning back in exasperation, "You have got to be kidding me...another stash of morphine and medi-gel has gone missing?" Daniel knew he was playing a dangerous game, but he had little choice.
Maelon narrowed his eyes, "I know what you're doing, Daniel," Maelon snatched up the datapad, before bracing his arms against the desk. Despite being more slender in frame and, in comparison to Daniel, nowhere near as muscular, the salarian could look intimidating. His voice was lowered, just low enough that only Daniel could hear him, "Just know that if Cerberus finds out, we'll be in serious trouble. Aiding and abetting known terrorist elements is a criminal offense, regardless of who you stand for."
Daniel just rolled his eyes, voice lowered to a whisper out of suspicion. Cerberus was capable of anything, including bugging offices, "I've been doing this for several months, Maelon...do you think I'd have lasted this long if I was sluggish? I've snuck out medical supplies before. I know what I'm doing. Besides, I'm doing what's necessary. Nobody in inventory notices if a few medi-gel packets or morphine goes missing...they'll barely know what happened."
Maelon looked at him incredulously, "You will not involve me in this fight. You may think you're somekind of courageous good guy, but one day, you'll slip us, and we'll both pay for it. Let's just hope you don't."
Daniel cocked his head, narrowing his own eyes, "If I get captured, I won't name you. However, if I find out you sold me out, Maelon..."
The salarian laughed, rubbing his temples. He looked back at the human before him, before laughing again. He lapsed back to a whisper, voice amused, "Do you honestly think I'd tell them? I'm a salarian. They're pro-human. You think I'm going to sell you out to them? They're more likely to side with you in the end and just gun me down. Besides, they're assholes and I wouldn't mind watching them burn. But that's it: I want to watch, not be involved."
Daniel just chuckled, annoyed by the salarian's antics, "You know, for former STG, you sure are awfully quick to jump from a fight."
Maelon shook his head, straightening his back as he clasped his hands behind him, "Turn the other cheek to, not jump from. Do not mistake my distaste for combat as cowardice. I know how to handle myself, and I've had my fair share of combat. I fought on the frontlines at the Battle of Virmire three years ago. I was in the middle of a warzone on Tuchanka just last year. I've lost my appetite. Not all of us can be as steeled as Mordin was, or as...matured as you are."
Daniel nodded, unable to refute his comment. Daniel had indeed matured: gone was the naive boy of a man who had believed in the goodness of people, and in the cleanliness of his profession. He had gotten married, had a child, seen the affects of naivete and how it got people killed...seen the worst organic life had to offer. He had sobered up to reality, and seen the effects of it. He grew up, tossed away whatever childish notions he had of the real world, and acknowledged that such notions didn't belong on Omega. He even had Maelon teach him how to hold a gun...in case he ever did get caught.
Mordin had changed his life forever. At first, he resented him...now he thanked him for it.
If only he was alive so I could tell him that in person. He died for what he believed in...he did something about it. If what I do helps me develop what I believe in, and I manage to spark a revolution, I'll have done something more than just quote the Hippocratic Oath and lecture soldiers about goodness and love and acceptance and all that crap. If Maelon wants out, whatever. I don't care. I'm just here to end the bad and bring some less bad.
After a bit, when Daniel hadn't answered or responded to Maelon's comment, the salarian doctor pulled back, regarding him sadly, "Look...I can tell I'm not going to talk you out of this. If you believe you're doing the right thing, I can't stop you. Well, I tried to cure the genophage and allied myself with krogan imperialists...so I can't call myself a saint. But if you're going to do this, don't drag me into it. This war isn't ours to get involved in."
Daniel shook his head, feeling a yawn building in the pit of his windpipe, "Omega claims you, Maelon. The moment you step foot on this station...it owns you. This isn't the Citadel, or Earth, or Sur'Kesh...this station is mean, it's harsh, and it'll kill you. It involves you...and when somebody comes along and tells you you're going to live under a military dictatorship...well, people who can do something about it have got to act," he leaned closer, tone lower than it had ever been since the start of their conversation, "This war belongs to all of us. The Talons fight to free this station from Petrovsky. Their fight is ours."
Maelon just scoffed, "I'm beginning to think the Talons are losing. Cerberus has been kinder to us than T'Loak ever was. Call it a dictatorship, but I'd prefer it to the anarchy we had before. No longer have to carry a gun around with me whenever I walk to the corner store," his eyes flicked to the figurine on Daniel's desk, before meeting his eyes again, "Although I hear the Talons are the least of Cerberus' problems now...the real war has finally reached our doorstep."
Daniel stood from his chair, grabbing the coat wrapped around his chair and putting it on, buttoning it up as he replied, "Yeah, well as long as it stays away from Gozu, I don't much care. Let the UGC and Cerberus fight it out. I'm more interested in the fact that Shepard himself appears to be leading their forces. You usually only see him when history's about to be made or the UGC wants a battle won really badly. They must really want Omega."
"It's gotten pretty serious," Maelon stated, eyes tracing Daniel as the man pulled open his desk draw, pulling out several packets of medi-gel and morphine and placing it into his inner coat pockets. The salarian showed visible disapproval, but Daniel didn't bother to acknowledge him, hoping he would eventually just drop the topic altogether. He did, at least for now, continuing his previous statement, "I was watching the news before. They've evacuated the entire Rubicon quadrant. Nobody knows what happened, all we know is that Cerberus deployed two regiments to that area, and so far, they haven't returned. And Petrovsky appears to be mobilizing everything he has to deal with them. Looks like the game's completely changed."
Daniel just shook his head, zipping up his inner coat before beginning to walk towards the door. Maelon followed him, matching him step for step, "Yeah...two regiments disappear, and they just happen to evacuate that area afterwards? Sounds like a defeat to me...maybe those forces got wiped out. And if the reports are true, then perhaps that fleet of his is gone too...if they weren't, how did the UGC get here? Seems like our dictator got more than he bargained for. Talons have been offering bug bites...looks like the UGC just tore off an entire limb. Good."
Walking out of Daniel's office, the two of them swerved left, walking down the corridor towards the clinic's entrance. Maelon's secretary brushed past him towards his office reception area, carrying a datapad in one hand and drinking from a cup of steaming hot tea. He apologized hurriedly, looking desperate to get out of the salarian's way so he could return to work.
Maelon grabbed his shoulder, three fingers gripping it tightly and willing him to stop. He didn't, shrugging it off as he continued his approach towards the entrance. He turned right at the reception area, finally reaching the door. Maelon shouted at him, no longer at his side, waiting at the other end of the reception chamber, causing him to stop and turn to him. The salarian's arms were crossed.
"You..." in that moment, Maelon realized where he was, both of them noting the six awaiting patients sitting in the chairs beside him. A male human teenager was reading off a datapad from what looked like an nine month old Issue 106 of Skycar Blitzers, an older fifty year old human woman tapped idly at her omni-tool, a twenty year old salarian man was playing a game of solitaire on his omni-tool, an asari was asleep, a batarian woman had her arms crossed and stared at a wall, and an asian man had wireless headphones in his ear, head bobbing away to whatever music he listened to. Suddenly noting their company, Maelon tapped the asian man on his shoulder, grabbing his attention. Removing his headphones, the techno beats blared across the room, "I will see you now." He glared at Daniel, before starting off back down the hall, the small asian man following him, tapping at his omni-tool to switch off his music, ending the cacophonus noise.
Daniel sighed, turning back to the door. He was about to tap the interface when he caught the holographic propaganda poster on the wall to his left out of the corner of his eye. Looking at it, the image of an angry Talon turian baring down on a defenseless Omega civilian while a Cerberus soldier leapt to the rescue always annoyed him. It was even more ironic given the civilian was an asari.
Cerberus stands for humanity, not aliens. Omega will never be its priority. We're a means to an end. That's why the Talons have to win. There can be no other way. And if my medicine helps them...all the better.
Finally tapping the interface, he made down the hallway towards the flight of stairs leading up to the main Gozu streets. A glowing, orange sign hung on the wall to his left: it used to say 'Solus Clinic', but now it simply said 'Gozu Clinic', given the salarian's departure. It had been ragtag from the beginning, Mordin only ever putting up the sign on Daniel's insistence.
There just like before, ther was a security checkpoint to the immediate left: a small room with a terminal, DNA scanner, several cameras, a small armoury and, of course, several troopers to man it. Before the plague, Blue Suns mercenaries had manned it. During the plague, LOKI mechs and, occassionally, Mordin himself. Now...Cerberus.
He knew them well. A Cerberus centurion manned the post, a pair of assault troopers in the back mostly either modifying their mattocks, chatting to one another or playing with their omni-tools. The centurion was always seated however, sitting behind the desk and tapping away at the terminal, keeping an eye on all arrivals and departures. He watched them like a hawk, and Daniel and Maelon couldn't so much as leave the clinic without a reason. And ever since the UGC made touchdown...he'd been even more strict. Gunnery Sergeant Logan Gale was a hardass, and a bit of an asshole, and Daniel really didn't like him.
As he crossed, the centurion appeared to notice him immediately, shouting out to him, "Halt, Dr. Abrams. Step back and state your business." His canadian accent was unidentifiable under all that electronic garble, voice filtered to the point of sounding robotic...all the Cerberus soldiers sounded like that, but Daniel just pinned it on being their helmet audio filters.
He sighed lightly, light enough that the sergeant didn't hear him. He stepped back, twisting exaggeratively to face the centurion, body slouched annoyingly as he glared back at the centurion. Sergeant Gale was fully aware that Daniel didn't like him, but he never looked like he actually gave a damn, meeting the doctor's glare with unrivalled intensity, the red eye slits only amplifying this.
"Standard fare, sergeant," Daniel droned, bored of this unnecessary formality, "Buying some pharmaceuticals from down the pharmacy down the street. A quick in and out, nothing fancy, you know the drill. We're out and need to restock."
He had said this countless times, but each time was tense. Each time felt like it dragged on forever, leaving Daniel afraid the centurion could see through his half lie...that he knew the truth, and would soon raise his rifle to kill Daniel or have his soldiers arrest him.
But he never did: this time was no different. The centurion shook his head disapprovingly, typing at his terminal and logging the departure down in his digital logbook, "You and Heplorn are going through those supplies a bit too quickly...you should both try to ration them. They don't come cheap. We need that medi-gel for our troops, and you're going through large amounts of it. I hope those patients really need it."
Daniel raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, "Different patients have different needs, sergeant. You want to be a doctor? Be my guest. If not, leave those decisions to me."
The centurion laughed bitterly, "Don't test me, Abrams. One word from the chain and I can have those supplies of yours seized and your entire clinic shut down. I might even have some Ramparts pay Heplorn a visit. Do not piss me off."
Our benevolent protectors, everyone. Daniel just rolled his eyes, shrugging, "Yeah, whatever. Can I go now?"
Gale just turned away from him, returning to his terminal, "Yes. You know the protocol: don't make us regret giving you these privledges. Behave yourself, don't harass our troopers, and don't do anything criminal. A trooper approaches you, you respect and address their requirements. If you think you're being harassed, report them to me. You come across someone you think to be a Talon member, report them to me. If we find you've openly supported or joined the Talons, your privledges will be revoked, and you will be detained."
"Thanks for that," Daniel sarcastically retorted, waving his hands up, "I've only been told that a hundred times. Would you like to do an x-ray, too? Make sure I'm not secretly a husk wearing human skin?"
"Some people need reminding," Gale replied offhandedly, "Now if you're going to go, go. Don't waste anymore of my time with your childish antics. Just behave yourself."
Yeah, thanks for nothing. He turned and walked off, away from the checkpoint and up the flight of stairs on the end to the left, quickly reaching the door at the top and exiting through it. The door shot open, and he promptly ignored the two Rampart mechs, wielding shotguns and stone still, flanking the door on the other side as he walked past them, hands in his pockets.
The Gozu District didn't look all that different than it had before T'Loak's exile, although with obvious new features. Gone were the bonfires and corpses littering the street during the plague: that had been long cleaned up and fixed up before Cerberus' invasion. The walls, once grimy and rotting away from lack of maintenance, were now cleaned up and stamped with Cerberus insignias, reminding people just who was responsible for the quality improvements, and who to thank.
The streets were surprisingly well adjusted. Even as he rounded the corner, heading right down Galiva Street. Species of almost every stripe, including even krogan and batarians, milled about, their presence far more persistent than it had ever been during T'Loak's reign: probably because noone was afraid of being shot dead anymore. As such, ruckus of a crowd was loud and deafening, muted only by the lack of overhead skycars due to the Gozu District's more sealed-off nature.
They weren't without the Cerberus patrols. Groups of a couple troopers patrolled the streets, their radios crackling occassionally as they talked to the rest of their unit or commanders. More common was the presence of the law enforcing Rampart mechs 'parked' on almost every single corner, a frozen sentinel only brought to action when crime was on the prowl.
As he walked down the street, he noticed to the side of a large apartment building a turian civilian was pinned against the wall, his back facing outwards and hands cuffed behind his back with omni-cuffs. One Cerberus assault trooper had him pinned, while a combat engineer scanned him with his omni-tool, likely pulling up his criminal record. Two more assault troopers were keeping a squared perimeter around them, making sure the crowd stayed away. The turian squirmed in the trooper's grip, but his augmented strength meant he easily overpowered the alien, subduing him with no effort.
Daniel ignored them, minding his own business. He just felt around the inner pockets of his jacket, as if to make sure the medi-gel and morphine he was, basically, smuggling was still there. He quickly pulled away, afraid somebody may notice him and bring about unneeded suspicion upon him. He just mingled with the people, careful to make himself look as normal and unremarkable as possible...totally unsuspicious.
It didn't take him long to reach the pharmacy...it was literally down the street, a couple blocks down. He strafed to the side, pulling himself up as he walked through the door. He immediately approached the reception, finding his eyes locking onto a particular human. He had auburn hair, ragged and untidy, his face baring numerous, small scars. His lips were small, nose jagged and eyes large. He was quite an ugly looking man really, but this meant he stood out...and Daniel recognized him as the man he was arriving to deal with.
There was only one other person behind the reception: an asari, who looked bored out of her mind, currently sorting through numerous pill bottles. A vidscreen sat ontop of a rag-tag desk, which was really just a bunch of boxes, with footage from the Cerberus News Network playing in the background.
Daniel tapped the counter, drawing the human's attention. He looked up, and upon seeing Daniel, he immediately turned to his asari co-worker, tapping her shoulder. Daniel waited, knowing the routine: he motioned to the doctor, and upon seeing him, the asari nodded and left, moving out into the store and pretending to check the shelves, while secretly watching the door.
Daniel turned back to the human, nodding. Okay...the usual then. He opened his omni-tool and transmitted the necessary information to his own. The recipient's model pinged, and he opened it, bulbous eyes running through the contents. Nodding, he reached down and received the necessary supplies, before slipping them across the counter towards Daniel: a few packets of fake medi-gel and fake morphine. Happy, he snatched them up, placing them in his pockets.
"You've got it?" The human asked, his voice low and demanding.
"Wouldn't be here if I didn't," Daniel replied simply, opening his jacket and retrieving the real medi-gel and morphine and sliding it across towards the man, who snatched it up and quickly hid it under the counter, out of sight. While he did this, Daniel's attention was snatched up by the news report, which was now broadcasting an address from General Petrovsky, the man himself. He looked higher than life, completely undeterred by anything. Not even Cerberus' rumoured defeat or the sudden evacuation of the Rubicon looked to have any impact on him, talking with the same cold, battle hardened strength he had in every other report. Daniel couldn't tell what he was talking about, especially given the vidscreen was muted.
"Pleasure doing business with you," the man replied, leaning in and whispering with a nod, "When they occupy, it's time to unify."
"Occupy," Daniel replied. He had to whisper it, feeling that every time he said it he was committing a sort of secret blasphemy. After all, reciting the motto of the wartime Talons was tantamount to allying with them: a criminal offense. 'Unify' and 'occupy' were codewords used by the Talons to identify who was loyal to the Talons and who was an informant. It was actually a trick question: if you said 'occupy', you were with the Talons. If you said 'unify', you were shot on the spot: only a true Talon would know which word to actually say. Choosing 'unify' would be too obvious to Cerberus agents.
Turning away, he walked out of the pharmacy, making his way back to the clinic. He hadn't looked any more suspicious than he had entering the store, and those who saw him would just see another man buying medical supplies. In reality, he had just completed another successful smuggling operation with the Talons, gifted fake equivalents of what he sold them so as to not alert Cerberus: the fake stuff looked exactly like the real deal, it just didn't do anything, and was usually thrown out as soon as he got the chance.
Maelon may have been right. Perhaps he was playing with fire. But if he had any chance of helping the Talons win against Cerberus, he had to take it. Because he was certainly not going to raise his kid in a world run by these Cerberus assholes...not if he had anything to say about it.
Over his dead body.
{Loading...}
August 6, 2186
0915 hours.
Command Center, Aria's Bunker, Tuhi District, Omega.
Second War for Omega, Rubicon Campaign.
Captain Marcus Lee Shepard, Chief Engineer Tali'Shepard vas Normandy, Military Advisor Garrus Vakarian, Battalion Commander Urdnot Grunt, Major Kaidan Alenko, Ruler of the Terminus Aria T'Loak, General Nyreen Kandros, Lieutenant Bray, Lieutenant Dreg, Lieutenant Ahz, Lieutenant Sata T'Loak.
Even as he read over the reports on his datapad regarding the battle, Marcus found himself slouching slightly against the war table, feeling woozy and ever so slightly dizzy from all the morphine running through him. There was just enough for him to concentrate whilst not being in excruciating amounts of pain, which was more than he could have claimed several minutes ago.
A battle that had felt like it had lasted several hours had only actually lasted close to one hour. An entire Cerberus army lay annihilated, four thousand troops butchered and cut down, dozens of their Atlases destroyed, and just over a hundred Rampart mechs neutralized. The assault had been costly for Cerberus, both in manpower, equipment and firepower, and it hadn't paid off. Not only had Petrovsky had a taste for the UGC's assault capabilities but he now, as an unwanted result, knew their full capacity. He may have been thoroughly and ruthlessly defeated, but what intelligence he gained meant the General would not make the same mistakes next time.
Regardless, the Battle of the Tuhi District was a massive UGC success. They managed to hold their own against a well equipped assault force supplemented by artillery, mechs and air support, but they, comparatively, suffered light casualties: the rachni probably lost the most troops, but employing the sort of 'swarm tactics' that they did, it likely meant very little. The mercenaries had been the next worst hit, losing almost all of their gunships, and the geth had lost two of their armatures, as well as a dropship. Again, by comparison, very light. Just over a hundred or so losses.
He rubbed his eyes, dropping the datapad on the table, moving to stretch his arms: big mistake. His broken arm immediately protested violently and angrily, flaring with pain and causing him to groan loudly as he cradled it, immediately regretting his instinctive reaction. The left arm hadn't been so despaired, but it still hurt to do anything considered to be impeding its healing process. As it was, his right arm was now cradled in a makeshift sling: a piece of torn cloth used to steady it. It would do for now until proper medical attention could reset the bone and allow his cybernetics to do the rest: he would be fine by tomorrow if he got treatment soon.
He wasn't alone in the room: Aria hadn't yet returned from the battlefield, and nor had the majority of his squad: only Ahz, Sata, Nyreen, Zaal'Golo and Garrus were present, his turian friend there to watch over him and make sure he was okay: Marcus could understand his concern, as he had gotten the shit beaten out of him, but it was annoying to have Tali treating him like a child everytime he got injured, and he certainly didn't need Garrus doing it too. As for the others, Nyreen and Sata looked to be exchanged in hushed, quiet banter, sharing a few laughs, likely at Aria's expense. Ahz just paced, constantly glancing down at his omni-tool as if he was practicing for a school play. Whatever he was doing, it must have been important, the salarian's face hardset and focused. Golo just quietly talked to himself, likely going over several ideas in his head.
"You okay, Marcus?" the turian asked, likely in response to the captain's sudden groan. He nodded quietly, offering no further answer other than that, not wanting to give Garrus anymore incentive to coddle him. Given what the marksman knew of his human commander, he likely picked up on this lack of vocal feedback and summarily dropped the topic, instead picking up the datapad he had so unceremoniously discarded to look over the statistics on it.
His mandibles twitched after a moment of silent contemplation, followed by a hum of approval, "Well...our forces performed about as well as we could hope. Having you lead that counterattack definitely helped turn the tide of the battle. I have no idea what would have happened had we waited. But we won...so I guess that's what matters. Should we inform Hackett and the rest of the UGC Galactic Command?"
Marcus shook his head, "I don't want to talk with him again until I can tell, and show, that I have Omega squared away. He needs to hear that we've won total victory, not just a quarter of it. We need to keep pushing Garrus. The next offensive has to be ours. We can't let Cerberus attack again."
"Completely agreed," Garrus replied, shrugging, "But there's no harm in acknowledging what we've won here. I thought you'd be glad."
"I am," he sighed, cocking his head, "I'm just sick of Cerberus getting the jump on us. We need to bite back. We're full of surprises too, and we need to find a definitive weakness we can exploit. So far, getting rid of those forcefields should be top priority. Those are the key to his entire operation here, both civilian and military. He'd be at a significant disadvantage without them."
Before the turian could even respond, the doors behind them, leading to the forward loading bay, opened, followed by the sounds of multiple footsteps as people began to enter the room. The group turned, watching as Aria stormed into the room, Dreg and Bray hot on her heels, moving up towards the war table, where Sata and Nyreen suddenly cut the chatter and straightened up. Ahz had since stopped pacing, deactivating his omni-tool as he raced back to his terminal, looking as if he had been caught doing other than his work.
On the other side, Tali walked inside, Kaidan and Grunt not far behind her. Kaidan's armor was caked with dried blood and bits of flesh and guts, his equally dirty helmet pinned under one arm. Grunt was even dirtier, although Marcus had a feeling his armor wouldn't be getting cleaned tonight: as a krogan, he probably saw his bloodied armor as a sort of battle trophy. He met Marcus' eyes and grinned, before moving off to the side and plopping himself down on the ground, leaning his head back and...promptly falling asleep. The human spectre couldn't even spare the energy to be surprised.
His eyes locked with Tali's, and in an instant, he knew exactly what was coming, bracing for it. No doubt she'd heard of his injuries, of the situation he had been caught in, and-
"You stupid, idiotic, moronic, foolish, irresponsible, immature, macho," each word was punctuated succintly as she approached, Garrus taking a step back and joining Kaidan as they watched with some amusement. Her fists clenched, the quarian closed the distance before quickly punching him in the chest repeatedly, albeit lightly to keep from actually hurting himself further. Just as she opened her mouth to finish her sentence, he opened his, and together, as if reading each other's minds, they spoke in unison.
"Bosh'tet."
Tali sighed, taking his use of her favourite curse word as a sign hew had known she would berate him, and was fully prepared for it. Finally, her hands landed on her hips, eyes appraising him, "Damn it, Mark...a broken arm, a shot shoulder, a broken nose, bruised face...and I hear you could have died? Why didn't you tell someone?" she waved at Garrus behind her, "What about Garrus? I thought we were beyond this! We're supposed to be a team! You can't just wonder off and-"
"Tali, I know. God all fucking mighty, I know," he stated, "I've already punished myself for it. Garrus has already hounded me on it. I get the bloody point. I made a mistake...I fucked up. I saw Leng, and I couldn't let him escape. I gave chase, and I failed to let anybody know, thus almost leading me to my death...I should be glad a few broken bones is all I got out of it. But please...don't keep hounding me about it. It won't be happening again. A tactical error on my part."
"You're damn right it won't happen again," Tali stated, crossing her arms and glaring daggers at him, "From now on, you'll tell us before you go running off...and you'll bring at least two people with you. We can't afford to lose you."
His thoughts trailed back to what he had been thinking in what he originally thought to be his last minutes, and he regarded them with some amusement. They had been like a last minute confession...only it was a confession to himself. Still, the words hung true, and he still believed them. You don't need me. You never did. But can I actually tell her that? She may be my wife, but she still looks up to me as some kind of mentor figure. Can I really shatter that perception for her?
He nodded, "I'm sorry. Really, I am. I didn't mean to scare you like that."
Tali nodded, reaching up and wrapping her arms around him, hugging him tightly. He just sighed with some relief as he let his head rest on her shoulder, "I'm just glad you're alright...and that those two bosh'tets got the ass-kicking they deserved. I hear I have a certain asari pirate queen and a turian resistance general to thank for saving you."
Tali pulled away after a minute, and he gave her a single nod. She understood its meaning, knowing that now wasn't the time for heart-to-hearts, and that they needed to get back to work. The two of them turned away from each other to face the war table, with Aria patiently waiting on the other side, looking beyond impressed.
"Well, you got your first taste for battle with Cerberus, Aria," Marcus declared, wincing.
"And what a battle it was!" Dreg added, slamming a fist down on the table, "We obliterated their regiments...as I told you Aria, Cerberus can be beaten," he turned to face Marcus, nodding with increased impression, "And you Shepard...you delivered on the hype...you truly lived up to expectations. That counterattack had to have been devised by somebody with a quad. We placed a lot of cards on the table and it paid off. But now isn't the time to celebrate."
"Exactly," Marcus stated, wincing once again as he straightened up, still feeling tired and dizzied, "Petrovsky won't spend time mourning the dead, either. He'll be regrouping and reassessing. He'll have gained enough intelligence to know what we're capable of, so using the rachni and geth as a surprise deck is no longer an option. He also isn't the kind of man to make the same mistake twice: he won't come at us again, not until he knows he has us in a position he can absolutely control. A general who has been defeated is one who's at his most dangerous, especially if he's as brilliant as Petrovsky. We'll need to plan our next move very carefully. Suffice to say, we can't just attack."
"We've created a golden opportunity to strike," Aria replied, clearly disagreeing with his point of view, "He's staggered by defeat, and like you said, will need to regroup. I say we don't give him the chance...if we mobilize now, we can have troops besieging Afterlife within the hour. We can breach the compound, kill Petrovsky and his governors, and end this thing once and for all. I'll kill the smug fuck myself."
"Yeah, and then his army will sweep around, encircle us and completely destroy us before we can even breach Afterlife," Garrus snarkily commented, snorting, "Yeah, wicked plan, Aria."
Golo intervened, nodding as he joined the conversation, "We need to consolidate our forces and wait for a moment of opportunity, Aria. I will not throw my troops at Afterlife until I know a path has been cut through. Besides, even if he doesn't have his army encircle us, he's still got those forcefields. Switch them on, and he'll have us trapped. Completely at the mercy of his bombers, and in a perfect position to be bombed to oblivion by artillery. We'd practically paint a bullseye on ourselves."
"We'll wait," Marcus declared. His eyes locked with Aria, and the asari locked hers with his, "We have to. We've won a great victory here, Aria: let that be enough. Petrovsky will lick his wounds, but he'll know we've defeated him. For now, we need to find a way to win this with minimal contact. We can't ever hope to take him head on. He outnumbers us entirely."
A gentle hand grasped Aria's shoulder, and the asari angrily snapped her head around to look at Sata, who genuinely looked concerned, "Mother, listen to Shepard: you brought him here to lead for this reason. If he thinks we need to approach this cautiously, then we should do what he says."
Aria nodded, exhaling deeply before nodding again, this one far more final and obligatory. A surprising sign of concession from the asari, "Yes, right. Okay," she turned back to Marcus, lips set in a firm line, clearly not happy about having to admit she was wrong, "Then do we do next? As you've said, Petrovsky most likely knows what we're capable of now. He will be far more restrained, correct?"
Marcus nodded, "Well, I can't predict the man one hundred percent, but if he's as smart as you say he is, then I would say so. My main question is just how the hell did Cerberus find this bunker so quickly?" he directed this question at Aria, eyebrows raised, "You said this facility would be so obvious as to be ignored, at least for a while. Petrovsky found us almost immediately. We've been here the grand total of a night and he's already engaged us. And now that he knows where we are, he'll be watching us like a hawk."
Aria shrugged, "Again, Petrovsky's a smart man...it's also possible he had scouts follow us. You know, nosey assholes."
Kaidan nodded, coming to stand on Marcus' right, "Makes sense. Considering the cloaks on those phantom-class units, they could have trailed us quietly back to our base and reported back what they found. Explains why they also seemed to know where to counter us. They had their entire right flank secured before we even made that counterattack."
Marcus gritted his teeth, shaking his head. They could be watching us right now and we wouldn't know. Shit. "Well, I say we fight fire with fire," he turned to General Golo, nodding, "I want as many of your men equipped with cloaks and spread out across the quadrant: I want hourly updates on what troops they come across, their grid location, if they have barracks nearby, etc. If they're planning an assault, I want to know about that too. No more fucking surprises. They caught us with our pants down this time: I want to be there when they're in that position next time."
The quarian general, arms crossed, gave a slight tilt of his head in acknowledgement, "I'll get to it, captain. Geth, being the perfect ambushers they are, will be perfect for the job: I'll have them outfitted with tactical cloaks as soon as possible. They'll be out within the hour."
"That's all good and all, but need I point out just how close we came to being overrun recently?" Nyreen pointed out, bringing all eyes in the room to her. She stood with her arms braced against the table, her own eyes darting from Golo to Aria and finally landing on Marcus himself. Waiting for her to elaborate, the female turian took that moment to continue, standing up and straightening her back with the same military stoicism that he expected from somebody who served in the Hierarchy's special forces, "We need to focus on accumulating some cold, hard wins. If we get 'caught with our pants down' next time," she used quotations, clearly finding herself at odds with the odd human expression, "Cerberus will throw everything they have at it. I've seen it. When one of his colonels finds one of my people's holdouts, they bombard it as soon as they learn of it. Cerberus don't wait. Their response time is immaculate, and from what I've heard, Petrovsky, being Russian, knows how much brute force to apply before a guerilla war becomes a slaughter. It is the same here."
Tali, to his surprise, was the one to pipe up, hands clasped behind her back, "General Kandros is correct. We wait here and spend time planning what to do next, he'll strike first, and it'll be fast and hard. He knows what we're capable of, so he'll be sure to send everything he can next time, and I don't think we can survive another assault. We need another way to end this."
"And I mean end it," Nyreen complimented, continuing with Tali's point almost as if the two were in sync with each other, "Right now, once and for all. This war goes for any longer and it'll become a battle of attrition: Petrovsky is a master of attrition. He'll win, and not only will you be left with nothing, but the Talons will be left without allies once more. My men have fought long and they serve me faithfully, but it won't be long before they capitulate. I lost an entire chapter in this very district only a month ago. All of them surrendered. No surprise, Petrovsky showed them clemency and let them reintegrate with society. If we lose...the Talons will be finished. I refuse to let that happen."
A smile graced Aria's lips, the pirate queen looking thoroughly smug, "Oh, so you admit we must win this quickly? So if my plan wasn't good enough, what is?"
Nyreen just shook her head, this time looking hesitant. Almost...reluctant, "I...there is only one plan that will work, and it's one we've previously discussed. If we want to truly mount an assault, those forcefields need to go. Every single one. Not one of them can be left active."
Aria was surprised at that...so was Marcus. After all, it had been Nyreen who had so firmly opposed the idea. Especially given what the forcefields also held back..."I thought you were against that idea?"
"I was against the idea of going down there," Nyreen almost audibly gulped, sounding largely terrified at the idea, "But...I've thought it over. There really isn't an alternative. Every other battle scenario will result in our eventual defeat: we simply can't fight a sustained ground war with Petrovsky: even with Talon support, you'll be hard pressed to secure even marginal victories. But if those force fields are gone...he'll have to compensate for their absence. And that gives us the advantage. We could be marching on Afterlife before his forces could mobilize quickly enough. The war would be over in a day."
"Yes...she has a point," Aria stated, stroking her chin in thought. Eventually, she nodded, slamming a fist into the table for emphasis, "Yes, and with the fields down, we could make our advance even easier with some...encouragement among the local populace. I could make a few propaganda videos. Ahz will hack into their network, and spread my message to the people. Cerberus will have so many riots on their hands that they won't be able to acknowledge us. I'd like to see Petrovsky fight us and Omega."
Before Marcus could even open his mouth to discourage how crazy the idea was, Nyreen had already jumped in, although with far more anger and viciousness than he would have. Her hands gripped the table tightly, her glare hot enough to metaphorically melt steel, "You most certainly will not. Those are just civilians! Most of them have no combat experience, and will be defenseless against a well equipped Cerberus army! They'll be slaughtered!"
Aria held up her hands defensively, although looking none too surprised at the turian's reaction. It's almost like she was deliberating antagonizing her at this point. Marcus could only roll his eyes at her childish antics, "Nyreen, don't be rash. This is Petrovsky we're talking about: he wouldn't lay a finger on the people of Omega: no, he would be forced to use non-lethal means to stop them, and that means we'll be free to move without much resistance. Half his army will have to redeployed to deal with those riots...perhaps even more."
The turian just scoffed, disgusted, "That's Petrovsky, Aria: what about his colonels? I remember Ashe: he didn't last long, but I know what he was like. Do you honestly think the governors are any different? If they get desperate enough they will kill innocent people. Children could get hurt. Innocent people will die, and for what? To give us a distraction?"
Aria nodded, "Well...yes. They'll be dying for the good of Omega. We must all do our part to liberate this station from these Cerberus cunts. If Petrovsky needs a wake up call, we shall give it to him. My speech will rile up the people and bring revolution. If a few die to save the many...so be it. But as long as Cerberus is evicted from my station, it'll be worth it."
The turian didn't even hesitate to answer, voice laced with disgust and contempt, "That's...sick. You would sacrifice people for your own selfish ambition? And you call that 'revolutionary'? You're not Tanculus...this isn't the Battle of Omega. You're a disgusting, ruthless bitch who's pissed off some human ousted her and as revenge is willing to step over the corpses of thousands just so she can play queen of her own pathetic little underworld while the rest of the galaxy burns."
Aria just smiled, "Oh, but you fucking love me. Otherwise, why would you, knowing what I am, lay with me? Choose to be with me?"
Nyreen just shook her head, "I used to. Then I grew up. Saw what you are. Now look at you. You stand there, ready to make sacrifice thousands, at the blink of the eye. No...hesitation. It's like you enjoy it."
Now Aria grew defensive. Like the rebel general had crossed a line, "I do not. I gave these people freedom and I will give it back. If some blood must be spilt, so be it, but never imply that I enjoy it! I will not-"
"This isn't for Omega, it's for yourself!" Nyreen spat back.
"I am Omega!" Aria snarled, the asari almost knocking Sata aside as she got right up in Nyreen's face, the turian female barely flinching.
"You were Omega!" She retorted, eyes practically narrowing to slits at this point, "But now you're just you. The people are Omega now. And you would sacrifice them for you. Which is exactly why I won't fight for you," she turned away, eyes fixing with Marcus, "Shepard, I trust you enough. But please, if you agree to this insane idea, I'm afraid I must pull Talon support from this entire operation. I will not risk innocent civilians."
"I-" he moved to speak, only for Aria to grab Nyreen and forcibly pull her towards the asari, teeth gritted and eyes alight with fury.
"You cannot, will not, do that!" she declared, incredulous and vehement, "You need us! You said yourself, if we lose, you lose! And then all of Omega will pay the price!"
Nyreen just smiled. There was no amusement behind it...it was bitter, spiteful, "I can live with that, Aria. Petrovsky is a good man, and I could live a happy life under his reign. He might even see me as a useful police officer...protecting the people. But Aria...if you lose, I can't see you living without your precious space station. So tell me, are you willing to risk losing the Talons just so you can sacrifice countless thousands? Or will Aria T'Loak finally grow up and realize the entire galaxy won't just fit together as she pleases like a jigsaw puzzle?"
Silence followed for a few moments, before Aria let go of the turian, turning around awkwardly and straightening her jacket. Nyreen just watched her, as did everyone else, waiting for a response: for the first time since the two were reunited, an argument between them had left Aria speechless. She actually looked flustered, like she'd been caught in the act. Bray and Ahz did their best to be looking anywhere but the asari queen, as if worried she would lash out at them if they so much as spared her a glance.
Aria T'Loak...seems like Nyreen broke the one rule of Omega and got away with it. He cleared his throat, "There...will be no propaganda videos," he stated, squaring his comment firmly in the direction of Aria. The asari gave no response, barely managing a nod of agreement, although he noted it was reluctant and somewhat sluggish. Nyreen clearly had a profound affect on her. Continuing, he turned to Nyreen, "Not because we need the Talons, but because it's the right thing to do: we don't need countless civilians slaughtered to win this battle. We disable the forcefields, and we march on Afterlife. Civilian casualties will be mitigated to the lowest possible. I will hear no more of it."
Nyreen nodded graciously. It was Sata who spoke though, coming to Nyreen's defense, "Yes, we must focus on winning this without needlessly sacrificing innocents. So if we're agreed on that..." she looked around the room, seeing no disagreement or objections. She nodded, turning to Marcus, and nodding, "...please continue."
"Well, it's better said than done," Ahz pointed out, drawing the entire room's attention, "After all, access to the reactor is also blocked off by forcefields. It also doesn't help that the entirety of the mining sector and the lower levels, where the reactor is located, is crawling with a thriving adjutant population. There's no life support, not a single form of power outside of the main one."
Marcus nodded, sighing. He honestly hated the idea of having to crawl through pitch black darkness also inhabited by techno-zombies, but he knew it was the only way. As long as we maintain strong formation and stay together, we should be fine. In and out. It'll be like the Collector Base...except if she get hurt, we turn into one of them. Great, no harm, right? "It doesn't matter. We're going in there and we're bringing those fields down. We need to find a way past the forcefields and into the lower levels. Once there, we'll find a clear path to the reactor, reroute power, and then get the hell out of there. We're not hanging around to become the lunch of an adjutant horde."
"I hope you realize what you're getting into, captain," Nyreen stated. She still had that persistent look of terror in her eyes...the one that was quickly becoming unsettling. I mean, she was a badass and a hardened special forces operative, and even she was terrified at the thought of going down there? Didn't exactly instill inspiration, "Again, these aren't the usual husk...they're worse. If you're going down there, you need to know two things. One, bring explosives...a lot of them. Anything less than a grenade launcher will barely hurt them. Two, don't let them get close enough to scratch or bite you. If they draw blood, you might as well kill yourself...a matter of fact, you have to...unless one of your squad is willing to draw the confidence to put you down once you come back."
"I'll admit," Garrus added, sounding none too confident himself, despite his intention to inject humor into the conversation, "I'm not entirely sold on this idea. Perhaps Marcus can go down and we'll just stay here. He's used to doing the impossible at this point."
"Hilarious, Vakarian," Marcus shot back, "But if I'm putting my ass on the line, you'll bet I'll drag your ass down with me. No Shepard without Vakarian. That means you too, Tali."
"I didn't say anything?"
"You were thinking it."
"Admittedly, I was."
"You're a terrible wife."
"I value my life."
"But not mine?"
"Only slightly."
Nyreen was incredulous, looking between them as if they were insane, "Are you not hearing me? This isn't a joke...how can you be joking about this?"
Garrus just laughed, "One thing you'll learn with us is that almost nothing has limits when it comes to humour. Besides, we find it helps lower the stress."
"Yeah, no point going into a suicide mission focusing on imminent death and despairing," Marcus joked, "Might as well go in with a grin on my face. You'll find the less you focus on the idea of dying, the more likely you are to not experience it."
"That's what he tells himself anyway," Tali joked, "Although the way he acts, you might think he's just trying to die at this point."
"Living is my utmost intention, have no fear," he retorted, wiping the grin that was forming on his face as he addressed the unimpressed Nyreen, "Don't assume that we're not taking this seriously, Nyreen. We are. Right now, the idea of moving through a dark chamber full of synthetic zombie abominations is not on our list of vacation resorts. Just thinking about it worries me, as it no doubt does the rest of my squad. But we're used to this kind of stuff. Sure, not adjutants, but we've done suicide missions before and come out on top, and this will be no different. And we really must do this." Quite frankly, the idea freaks me the fuck out. I can do husks, but at least they wait for dragon teeth to transform their victims...mostly post mortem.
The Talon general sighed, finally nodding, "Okay, fair enough. Well, if we're really doing this, and it looks like we are," again, that look of hesitance. The one where she looked ready to back out. Instead she steeled herself, pushing forward. It was clear to him her experience with these adjutants was far more personal than she let on, "Then first you need a way inside, pass the forcefields blocking off the lower levels. While one might assume its completely blocked off, it's not: there's a blast door adjacent to where the forcefield's western emitter is, that leads into the eezo processing plant. That should take you straight into the mining sector. It's the only area Petrovsky hasn't completely sealed off, as he needs access to the mining equipment and drills. Cerberus have been working them non-stop for resources, bleeding the asteroid dry."
Aria shrugged, shaking her head but looking like she understood the reason, "Element Zero is rare, and Omega is a delicious gold mine full of it. You could run the drills for years and still not tap the bulk of it. Unfortunately, those mines have been out of operation for...well, a while."
Nyreen just scoffed, "More like a millenia. Those drills go back to the days this station was a mining facility owned by Easy Eezo Industries. It predates the Krogan Rebellions," she rolled her eyes, scratching her frill, "They're hilariously out of date, and haven't been used since the krogan were evicted by Tanculus. Petrovsky made the mistake of not only reactivating them without any maintenance, but he has them running without reprieve. Those drills will burn themselves out within another two months. But the General seems desperate enough for those resources."
Kaidan spoke up, offering his own hypothesis, "He's probably ferrying them out to Cerberus: another reason they want this asteroid bad. There's enough element zero here to sustain their entire navy for the next century, not to mention for biotic experiments and creating dragoons. As for why he's running them dry...no doubt the Illusive Man's levering the pressure. We have set back numerous Cerberus operations, after all."
"Well, those supplies will be going nowhere with the blockade we've set up," Marcus pointed out, turning back to Nyreen, "So that's lucky for us: all this eezo in one location? Perfect for powering the Crucible, not to mention all of the UGC's fleets. Just another reason to have Omega in our possession."
"Agreed, Shepard," Nyreen reciprocated, crossing her arms, "As I said, that blast door is your best bet. Its thick enough that adjutants can't get through, hence why Petrovsky's confident enough to let it stand without the forcefield to back up: perfect for you to slip in. He won't be expecting anyone to brave the mining sector, especially with knowledge of the adjutants. Through there, its a relatively straight, but long, shot to reactor control. If you're quiet, you shouldn't alert the attention of the adjutants. Once inside, there are blast doors you can seal from where you are to keep them out if you do alert them...where you go from there is up to you."
Marcus nodded. Seems like a solid plan. Not much detailing how to deal with an adjutant horde should they be alerted, but given how monstrous they are, that's no surprise. But if we're going quiet...He looked up, feeling himself slip to the side slightly as he lost balance: he regained it quickly enough, shaking his head to ignore the dizziness. He ignored Tali's worried glance, continuing, "We can't risk bringing a large force in there: too much noise. For that reason, we'll be going small and tight: numbers will just draw unwanted attention. I'll take my squad inside, and once the forcefields are down, Golo will be ready to launch the assault. You must be ready to act immediately, though."
General Golo gave a simple nod, letting him know he understood.
Aria was next to speak, making it clear what she wanted, "In terms of an attack, Afterlife must be a priority. Take that, and we show Petrovsky that I mean business."
"More than that," Nyreen stated, clearing her throat, "You may not like it Aria, but the Afterlife you knew is gone: the entrance is about all that's left. Petrovsky's converted it into his personal headquarters, naming it 'New Order HQ.' It's highly likely Petrovsky himself is stationed there, along with his colonels. Taking Afterlife won't just show Cerberus we mean business...we'll be taking the center point of their operation."
Marcus licked his lips, "That's good. Aria gets her headquarters back, and we dethrone Petrovsky and his commanders: from there, clearing the districts one by one should be a simple job. It's settled: once the forcefields are deactivated, all UGC forces will make an immediate and swift push for New Order HQ. Golo can formulate the exact battle plan, but I recommend a blitzkrieg tactic of attacking with aircraft and ground troops simultaneously. A pincer movement from the west and east should rapidly collapse any defensive lines they have, allowing you to sweep in, around, and swarm in from all sides." The quarian general nodded his concurrence. Marcus did a quick scan of the room, searching for any sort of objection to their plan. There wasn't one.
Well, if this plan succeeds we'll have ended this war in just a few days. Shorter than the war for Rannoch, thankfully. And it'll give a much needed morale boost to the UGC. Nothing like retaking a space station from a pro-human supremacist group and dealing some damage to their reputation. Might even make Timmy cry a little. The idea brought him much amusement, but he wondered just how much pressure it would take for Petrovsky to eventually crack. No doubt he'll have contingencies in place...Cerberus will fight us every step of the way. But we must win, no matter what.
Victory at any cost.
Noting the silence and likely taking it as an indicator the meeting had concluded, Aria motioned to Nyreen, "I will stay here, make sure my own troops are in working order and then, when you bring those fields down, I'll lead the charge on my end. I want to see Petrovsky's face for myself when we storm the entrance to Afterlife and reclaim my seat. He better hope my couch is still there," she once again nodded to her ex-turian lover, "Nyreen will lead you into the Dark Zone to reach the reactor. She obviously knows the route best, so she would be an excellent choice to-"
"No," the turian flatly declared, shaking her head. All eyes landed on her, some of them frowning, others surprised or confused. The turian backed away from the table slightly. Noticing she had left some dead air in the wake of her statement, she awkwardly scratched her frill, coughing, "I'll...I will coordinate with my Talons, have them run sabotage and espionage counter-activities against Cerberus with their forces are thickest. If we're lucky, we can even the playing field...disrupt their movements. Neutralize fuel sources, take out garages, destroy hangars, capture artillery and mechs...we could make a huge dent in them before the fields drop."
Aria seemed to catch on the quickest to what Nyreen was doing, eying her former partner closely before stepping towards her, one hand lazily trailing the table, "You could have your forces do that...they don't need you. However, without the proper guidance, poor Shepard and his merry band might get lost...or worse, torn apart by rabid monsters. So tell me Nyreen...what are you afraid of?"
The turian's eyes widened slightly, but she maintained her composure. Her breath was getting shaky however, fists clenching and unclenching tightly, trying poorly to mask this from the asari, "I'm not...I am not afraid of anything. I need to oversee these operations myself to-"
"Bullshit," the asari bluntly cut her off, silencing the rest of her sentence with one verbal stroke, "Your breathing is shaky, and your clenching your fists...you only do that when you're afraid of something, I should know. Is it...the adjutants? Do they frighten you, Nyreen?" not waiting for the turian to answer, she reached a conclusion for herself, "What did you experience that has turned such a hardened warrior like yourself into a gibbering wreck at the mere mention of an adjutant? Do tell me, so I can slap it out of you, because it's really quite pat-"
Suddenly, it was gone: like the turian just wiped it away. Traces of the fear remained: the occassional jittery finger or scratch of the frill. But her hands were calm now, her eyes set and fear absent from them. It was almost like she had simply filed it away somewhere, ignoring the nightmares so they didn't impede on her day-to-day, "...it's none of your business, Aria. Just...forget it," she turned to Marcus, ignoring the asari's interrogative gaze, "I will guide your squad through the mines, captain. Just let me organize with my second-in-command. I'll have him begin to run these saboteur activites at once." Without so much as a backwards glance, the turian stormed from the room, exiting into the forward loading bay, door closing behind her.
Before anyone could begin to question exactly what had gotten into the usually resolute, but consistently intransigent turian general, Marcus cleared his throat, deciding there was nothing else to discuss and to bring the topic to a close, "Given what occurred today and the injuries suffered, we will all need to get some rest before we put this operation into effect," he paused, frowning, before deciding upon a perfect name for it, "Operation Iron Prophet is what this will be called. If there is no further questions, then this meeting is adjourned. Correct, Aria?"
Aria herself nodded, waving a hand for Bray, Dreg and Ahz to depart. Sata remained still for a few moments before bowing, taking her leave. Aria followed afterwards, rolling her eyes. Marcus did the same, and Garrus and Kaidan soon left through the back, the snoring Grunt left to his own slumber. Soon, the room was clear, leaving him alone...with Tali.
He winced as he turned around, finding that his muscles had now tensed considerably, leaving him aching in almost every department. His mobility constricted, he sighed heavily as he leaned back against the table, Tali moving to his side almost immediately. He tried to wave her off, but his wife would not be dismissed so quickly this time, the quarian ignoring his gestures and wrapping an arm under his own, giving him a helping hand, "Come on, I'll get you to your bunk. You need rest, and medical attention."
He sighed, dreading that statement. There's work to do, but I'm useless the way I am...and this bone really needs to be reset..."Tali..." he objected regardless, finding it almost obligatory nowadays: he knew he needed rest, but he felt the need to object to her concerns, arguing against his need for medical attention despite the necessity of it.
"Don't argue with me, Mark," she dictated, moving forward and forcing him to reluctantly walk with her. The morphine had severely dulled his senses, making basic movement very difficult as he constantly questioned and battled his balance. He felt as if he was spinning, the combination of sheer pain fighting the drugs for control over his senses and his lack of balance leaving him a droopy, gaping trance, "You can barely stand...you're going to sit down and relax. Sleep. I don't care. Your cybernetic regeneration process will heal your wounds, but you're not krogan: they need time to do their work. Healing will also be useless unless that broken nose and arm of yours are reset. We need somebody who knows your medical history well enough."
They managed to reach the door, stepping through it as they entered the forward loading bay, where the UGC troops were currently gathered and consolidated. Some of them celebrated their victory, tossing around battle trophies they had claimed from corpses of fallen Cerberus soldiers: from helmets to weapons, armor to even the leg of an Atlas, symbols of the battle were gathered for all to see. Others look to be doing what Tali wanted him to do...either sleeping, resting or chatting with colleagues. Others sought medics, nursing wounds, severe and light, ranging from simple cuts and grazes to dismembered limbs or missing ears.
He understood exactly who Tali meant, and as they headed for his makeshift bed, he nodded, albeit with some difficulty, "Fine...contact the Normandy. Tell them to send Chakwas down to the bunker to treat me; after that, she could probably help around. Plenty of injuries to keep the doc busy."
His engineer nodded her own agreement, tappig at her omni-tool and contacting the Normandy with just a few key swipes. Moments later, Joker's voice came over the speaker, sounding chipper and more than pleased, "What can I do for you, Tali? Hope you guys are having fun down there, because we certainly were. Oh yeah, plenty of fun up here to be had. Lots of asteroids and ships and...other stuff. You know, real exciting."
Both Marcus and Tali rolled their eyes simultaneously, "I'm glad you're keeping yourself busy, Joker. Can you send Doctor Chakwas down to the bunker via shuttle? Mark needs medical assistance."
That set off some alarm bells with the pilot, "What kind of help? He didn't get himself killed again, did he? Because let me remind you just how expensive it was to bring him back last time..."
Smartass. "Right here, Joker. Alive and well. And right back at you: I'll remind you that the person afflicted by that expensive spending is currently the one who we're at war with right now."
"What a conundrum!" the pilot jokingly shot back. Afterwards though, some seriousness, "I'll let Doctor Chakwas know immediately, captain. Should be down within the next half hour."
"I'll be eagerly waiting her arrival," Marcus replied, lacing his tone with sarcasm. If Tali noticed, she didn't acknowledge it, simply ignoring her childish husband to reply to their utterly hilarious jackass of a pilot.
"Thank you, Joker. Tali out," she cut the line, stopping their movement as they reached his bed. Slowly guiding him down so he could sit, she stood up, patting her hands as if to wipe off dust that had collected there. He winced as he lay down, and although he wouldn't admit it, it did feel good to sit down after such an intense battle. Slowly, piece by piece, he began the process of removing his armor, with Tali's help of course. Removing his right shoulderpads and armguards was the hardest part, but once that was done, the rest was a breeze. In nothing but his undersuit, he lay down on the bunk, finding his mind wandering off lazily as he considered falling asleep. Certainly feels like a good idea right about now...
"With luck, your cybernetics, with the help of Chakwas, should heal most of the damage by tomorrow," Tali stated, standing above him now, "Then, and only then, will any of us allow you to walk into that mine. With how these adjutants are described, it sounds like you're going to need all the energy you can muster, too, so get some sleep if you can."
"Thanks mum," he jested, grinning. He gave her a mock salute, although he regretted the action, wincing. Tali took notice, shaking her head.
"Idiot," she turned to walk away, only to stop and look at something outside of his peripheral view. Curious, he rolled over to see what it was. He found that it wasn't something, but someone. Nyreen Kandros stood beside his bunk, hands clasped behind her back as she regarded Tali. The quarian appraised her equally, looking her up and down, as if sizing her up.
"Speak with him later," Tali practically ordered, adopting a commanding pose, "He needs his rest."
Well, I did need to speak with Nyreen, one on one, eventually. Seems like a perfect time to do it. Not like I can do anything else. "It's okay, Tali: I don't think I'm going to injure myself further by just talking to someone. It'll be fine."
She turned to him, looking at him for a moment, before turning back to Nyreen, shrugging, "Fine. But please make it quick. Like it or not, he needs sleep."
"Don't we all," the turian replied in kind, the two giving each other a respectful nod before going off in their respective directions: Tali towards the other side of the loading bay, and Nyreen to his side. The turian reached down and grabbed a nearby crate, dragging it over and sitting on it, hands coming to rest on her knees. She looked down at him, and he looked up at her, regarding the turian closely. Finally, she spoke, "I've...wanted to talk with you. Guess recent events meant we didn't get much time to...far too much to organize. Battles, plans, taking stock, doing the rounds...we've been kept pretty busy. I thought now would be a good time."
He nodded respectively, sitting himself up, ignoring the protest of his body as he resisted the embrace of sleep for a bit longer, "I've wanted to talk with you as well, Nyreen. I know Aria well enough, but I barely know of you. You seem to run a tight outfit with the Talons. Very well organized resistance force. Takes someone with a lot of military experience to pull that off. I already know you're special forces...what branch?"
The turian laughed, chuckling quietly for a moment before raising one hand. There was a low pitched, but audible, clap before a ball of biotic energy formed above her palm, tendrils of dark energy wrapping around the summoning hand and licking up her fingers, "There's only one branch of special forces in the turian military where biotics specialize, captain. I served in the Cabal Corps: weaponized biotics. They took our abilities and honed them. We're the turian answer to the asari's Commando Corps, but with a sharper edge."
"I've hardly heard of the Cabals," Marcus admitted, genuinely interested, "I know of the Blackwatch...and even the Armiger Legion."
Nyreen nodded, and with a click of her fingers, the biotic energy dissipated, hand falling into her lap again, "That's because our branch is kept hushed...Hierarchy likes their secrets, and the military has plenty of their own. Besides, turian biotics are rare enough as it is than the Cabals have very few members: but what few there are of us, we make up for our lack of numbers in sheer precision. I won't sugarcoat it, Shepard: we're trained to kill. I can reave an organic opponent over 400 meters away, summon a biotic barrier just by clicking by fingers, and I can rip a geth in half. 12th War Games had the Cabals pitted against asari commandos...there's a reason the asari don't like talking about the results."
He smiled, "Well, soldier to soldier, you've got an impressive skill set. What you did with Leng...he had cybernetics, yet you met him strike for strike. Seems baffling that somebody with your abilities would find themselves in Aria's camp."
She scratched her mandible, shrugging, "That story...you've heard it all before. Aria whooed me with her determination and strength...I fell for it. She used me, tried to change me...it failed. Now I'm here, and we're not on good terms. Suffice to say, I found that being a strong woman doesn't make for a powerful role model. After all, strength is all about what you do with it, not the fact that you have it."
Well, she's blunt, I'll give her that. She doesn't shy away from the fact she's a lethal killing machine, and she's not afraid to admit her issues with Aria, especially infront of the woman herself. He looked back up at her, thoughts diminishing as he focused on her entirely, "I know you don't like Aria, Nyreen. You two are constantly butting heads over civilian safety...and you know I agree with you, one hundred percent. Aria's not a woman you want to be in bed with...but unfortunately, that bed will either win this war or lose it. I don't like it, but there it is. Don't you believe ousting Petrovsky is ultimately worth a temporary alliance with her?"
Nyreen hesitated, clearly not knowing how to answer his question initially. She quickly came to her senses though, the click of a mandible unmistakable, even amongst the noisy backdrop, "I don't know what to believe here, Shepard. I know I believe Omega's civilians are my first and foremost priority, and that all hopes of liberation are at the back of my mind when it comes to their affairs. There's the dilemma...Petrovsky, while Cerberus, looks after the people of Omega. So what reason do I really have to usurp him other than to be spiteful?" she snorted, waving her hand in the direction of the command center, "And who do we have to replace him? Aria T'Loak, the same person representing the broken system of lawlessness and anarchy from before he was removed, now back in all her 'glory.' I'm sorry captain, but it just seems like by the end of this we'll have done more to damage Omega than improve it."
Surprising, even to himself, he found he really couldn't object to that or really argue against it. Granted, he knew Cerberus couldn't hold onto Omega: it was a tactical advantage they could not be allowed to possess any longer, and that meant Petrovsky had to go. He knew the tactical reasons for it, but when he took the morality of it into account...it was beginning to grey out. In the end, Aria really was more of a destructive element than a unifying one...sure, she brought the people freedom and the liberty to do whatever the fuck they wanted, but they often did just that at the expense of others. And now with someone like Petrovsky in power, giving the people the security and protection they wanted under his benevolent rule, who would desperately want him gone? Who would honestly want him gone in exchange for the likes of Aria T'Loak? Did people really want the return of the one rule?
Don't fuck with Aria. A rule most don't forget, but others would rather not return.
Then he looked at Nyreen. She was a good commander, and well respected among her troops: she herself had pointed out that only one chapter had surrendered to Cerberus and, given the good PR between Cerberus and the Omega population, it was quite a feat to hold a resistance movement in the midst of all that. Not only that, but she had literally reformed a major criminal drug cartel into a unified rebellion, turning criminals into soldiers. She had lead this resistance against one of the galaxy's most brilliant commanders, and managed to survive for months, evading his grasp. She had gone toe-to-toe with a cybernetically augmented assassin and almost killed him. She cared deeply about the people, would never dare to harm a civilian and despised collateral damage: the kind of person nations rallied behind.
She was practically Petrovsky...the only difference was that she was turian and she wasn't Cerberus...and that one divide is what made her so...perfect. He had seen parts of it before, but now that he had continued to see Nyreen in combat and at debriefings, he was more and more convinced that she wasn't just capable of leading, she was an excellent leader.
A perfect ruler. The one Omega has, but without the Cerberus connections. The ultimate match. Nyreen's the better choice to rule Omega. I should have known Aria was too much of a handful from the get go...but Kandros has what it takes, and then some. She doesn't demand respect, she's earned it. She doesn't bully, she arranges. She isn't overly emotional. She's smart, quick on her feet, and has actual military experience, as opposed to Aria, who's combat training, at least in Marcus' point of view, resembled that of a first-rate mercenary: good, possibly even great...but no match for even the greenest of marines. And Nyreen's ex-special forces.
An excellent fit, really.
But could he really be thinking this? Aria had entrusted him with this whole operation: could he really just stab her in the back like that? And even if he did, and endorsed Nyreen over her, did he really think Aria would just give up? She adored Omega. It was her home, and she had poured enormous resources into this invasion. To have all of that succeed, only for her ex-lover to sweep the rug out from under her...in the end, there would be only way to ensure Aria remained out of the picture.
I'd have to kill her...great, that's some Illusive Man thinking there: stab your allies in the back. We're supposed to be fighting the Reapers, and I'm contemplating a goddamn coup. And I'm not even counting her damn loyalists! No doubt Bray and Dreg will fight for her, not to mention the rest of her OLF. It'd be a bloodbath, and for what? Because I prefer Nyreen over her? This is a fucking war! I can't afford to play a game of 'pick that dictator!'
But Nyreen's loyalty would forever be secured...her help against the Reapers is absolute. But if Aria gets Omega back and decides she wants nothing to do with the conflict...I mean after all, she only did this for Omega. She doesn't give a damn about the Reapers. She probably thinks Harbinger and his ilk will just ignore her: dismiss her as a threat. That she'll be spared from their harvest simply by making herself scarce.
In the end, his answer was basic...fundamentalist at best. In his mind, he was constantly battling himself, wondering if he was right or wrong to think these things. Whether it was right or wrong to be inwardly considering a coup..."We are what we are, Nyreen. And while Aria might not be the leader Omega wants nor needs, it's the one the UGC desires."
The turian nodded, finding she couldn't argue with that, "I understand. Just keep what I said in mind. I'd hate for you to be disappointed when Aria inevitably shows her true colors again...after she takes power again, I mean."
Marcus found that she really wasn't wrong.
Only question is...will I let her have that power?
"Yeah, I was having serious doubts over Aria's stability...and whether she was the right choice for leadership on Omega."
- Marcus L. Shepard.
"So did the coup succeed? I doubt you willing let Aria have power after you realized that."
- Reia'Inas pav Earth.
"Well, that's spoilers. Let's have some consistency, yes?"
- Marcus L. Shepard.
"Fine. Whatever. Very well. You mentioned Operation Iron Prophet: the endgame. You entered the mines?"
- Reia'Inas pav Earth.
"The next day, yes. Boy, Nyreen certainly didn't exaggerate those adjutants..."
- Marcus L. Shepard.
A/N:
You guys will be ecstatic to know that...the next chapter is a MULTI-PART. YIP-YEE! Seriously though, this multi-part chapter is only a two-parter, so don't start cursing my name yet.
E3 2017 was pretty stale, if I'm honest. Just a rehash of stuff I'm already excited for...but I'm pretty excited for Wolfenstein II: The New Colossus and Metro: Exodus. If you guys haven't played Metro 2033 or Metro Last Light, do so: awesome games. If you like a post-apocalyptic setting, but in Russia, then this is the game you want.
Well, until next time,
Keelah Re'lai, troopers!
