There is no better spy than a slave. They may go anywhere, do anything. They can ask questions that would be suspicious because everyone believes a slave is stupid, even given evidence to the contrary.
The Reclamation Effect
Chapter Three
man·date (noun)
An authoritative command or instruction.
"Well, let's consolidate our information," Miranda begins, stepping forward even as the hologram of The Illusive Man disappears.
I hold up a hand, forestalling her. "Excuse me, but who died and made you Queen? What makes you think I'll follow your orders?" Lawson narrows her eyes, obviously reconsidering her position. "I said I'd work with Cerberus. Not for Cerberus."
Lawson fixes me with a flinty look, obviously unimpressed. " first then."
"We know who's holding the body, where they're holding it and what they plan to do with it," I answer in rapid staccato, gloating just a little.
"Eclipse, one of their warehouses, sell it to the Shadow Broker," Miranda answers with a hint of smugness. I should have known.
Huh. Damn. It really wouldn't do to let on how much she annoys me right now. "Feron's our local. He knows the best ways there. Let's go."
"The Eclipse base will be heavily guarded," Feron notes blandly, projecting a translucent set of blueprints from his omnitool. We're close now, only a few blocks away. 'Day' and 'night' are fairly arbitrary descriptions on Omega but people need a routine. It's six in the morning, local time, and I can see Liara struggle with the lack of sleep. "Thanks to my contact we have the advantage of complete navigation data, though we do not know the number of Eclipse soldiers deployed to the site. I believe the planning of the military operation itself falls to Ms. Lawson and Mr. Parker. Have you any thoughts?"
"We're a bit short on manpower for a proper operation," Miranda notes critically. In addition to the three of us, Miranda brought everyone she could from the Cerberus safehouse; four ex-Alliance marines. There could be three dozen Eclipse mercenaries at the base; it's not great odds.
"But for a stealth operation, eight isn't unmanageable," I counter.
"True," the Cerberus lieutenant muses, examining Feron's blueprint. "Though we don't know where they're keeping the body. It could be anywhere."
"It would have to be in this open area, wouldn't it?" Liara suggests, poking a finger into the wireframe. "It's the only place big enough for the trade."
"They might have it hidden away until the last moment, but it's the best bet," Miranda's second-in-command summarises. "What's our combat specialities?"
"Liara and I are biotics, not soldiers," I begin. I can't speak for Feron but I don't think he's a natural fighter either. "I know Miranda is a powerful biotic too, so we're about covered there."
Miranda's head snaps around at my last sentence, her eyes cold and calculating. Probably wondering how I know that, but we both know we don't have time for a Q&A session. After a few seconds she breaks the glare, though her clenched hands suggest the matter isn't finished. "All five of us are certified by Cerberus' advanced combat training programme," Lawson states calmly, her professionalism coming to the fore. "I am also proficient in tech warfare."
So we've got our frontline and biotic support. "Feron?" Liara asks. None of us have really gotten a chance to see how the Drell performs in a real fight yet.
The informer's face twitches up in a pseudo-smile. "I'm afraid my skills with firearms are unspectacular. However, I am competent in the use of an omni-tool."
"Does he always talk like that?" One of the marines whispers.
"As for weapons we've got a sniper rifle, grenades and two shotguns plus assault rifles for the four of us," the lead marine notes, ignoring his comrade. "Prodigal's got her SMG, you three set for guns?"
"Pistols only, I'm afraid," I answer. Well, it's not a bad spread. One sniper, two vanguards and a demolitions expert not counting Miranda, Feron, Liara and myself.
"Now, the attack," Liara says, impatiently forcing us back to the matter at hand. "Any suggestions?"
"This entrance seems like the best option," Miranda suggests, magnifying the location on the blueprint. "If we can get in without raising the alarm, we should be able to make it to this vantage point without much difficulty. From there, we can secure the main area without much difficulty." A red line appears on Feron's projection, illustrating Miranda's proposed route. It looks solid, but the guards outside are still a problem. Liara's mind evidently works like mine. She voices the concern.
"I believe I have a solution," Feron counters. "The path of the sentinel's patrols is set. Aside from the watcher stationed on the roof, there is little long-distance surveillance. If we can remove him, the other four guards on the ground will be much easier to bypass."
"So that's a sniper's job," I guess. Miranda nods. Feron, on the other hand, shakes his head.
"I'd like to take him alive," he suggests. The look Miranda gives him could peel layers off stone. The Drell relents with an inclination of the head.
"Let's go," Liara insists, her face contorted by anxiety. "We're running out of time."
"Emmons?" Miranda whispers, a hand pressed to her ear.
One silenced shot later, the Cerberus marine replies. "Sentry eliminated. The path is clear, maintaining overwatch."
No one says anything but all of us react. The two heavily armoured marines lead the way, covering Miranda as she crouches next to the lock. It only takes her a few seconds to break the system and the reinforced steel door slides open. The seven of us move through as fast as we can, the final Cerberus trooper pulling the door shut after us. Cut off from Omega's red luminescence, we're left in darkness.
"No lights?" Liara whispers, feeling her way toward the ladder to the upper level, instead finding an internal door. She's right. Even if it's night, total darkness is taking it a little too far.
Why don't we just break the door down? Enough with all the sneaking, the planning, the manipulating. The delays are frustrating, infuriating. Shepard's body is right there, only a few meters away, hidden by a few doors and a few men. I can just go now, kill them and bring my Queen back.
It's strange. I can't really think of a reason not to. All the preparation, is it really needed?
I hiss quietly to myself, slowly painting the air the colour of blood. Rachni fight with honour, not with treachery and trickery. A noble fight, with the better warrior allowed to live on. These soldiers-for-hire, these mercenaries know nothing of honour. They are weak. So I will live and they will die.
I smash the door open with a biotic fist and light illuminates the dark room, streaming in from the warehouse's central room. The others with me stare in shock, or maybe incredulity. It doesn't matter. They can't possibly comprehend what it was to be a true hive-warrior, a part of an infinitely greater whole. Even if I am to die, my death would benefit the colony.
"What the fuck are you doing?" The Cerberus woman snarls at me. I just raise my eyebrow at her. She crouches, hiding herself behind a series of rusted machinery. Coward.
Then Liara grabs my wrist, jerking me back behind the wall. The pressure of her grip causes me to blink; the world greys out. Part of me screams and thrashes at the loss of Rachni colour but the rest of me gasps in panic, looking for gunshot wounds. Walking straight into an enemy stronghold without even a barrier set up? Lunacy. Suicide.
"Holy crap," I breathe, eyes wide. I knew the Rachni impulses could be strong, but not like that. It just… crept up on me. I scratch my chest nervously; if it's that easy to fall into that mind then what else is it controlling? What else have I lost?
Silence reigns for a second. Liara curses. My eyebrows shoot up; I didn't know the petite Asari knew that kind of language.
"Something's wrong," she announces, stepping past my panting form and striding confidently into the open space of the warehouse, straight into the killzone.
And nothing happens.
"We're too late," Miranda fumes, slamming her SMG back into its holster with more force than is necessary. Sure enough, she's right. The Cerberus lieutenant follows the Asari out into the light, hands on her hips. I follow cautiously, shading my eyes from the light. They're right, there's not a mercenary in sight. No personal effects left out, not a piece of mess or clutter. It looks like the place is completely bare. "Check the top floor," she orders her troopers. They depart without a sound.
"They already moved the body?" I ask slowly, at some level vaguely aware of just how much that brief bout of insanity shook me up.
"I've found something, ma'am." One of the Cerberus marines, calling from the upper level. I think her name is Akhal or something? "A dead Salarian. One of the mercenaries. Looks like he was executed."
Feron flinches, showing the most emotion I've ever seen. He pushes past Liara, climbing the closest ladder with hasty movements. A brief silence reigns, then the Omega native speaks.
"My informant. The cause of death is consistent with Eclipse executions."
Miranda curses. "They must have discovered he was leaking information and killed him, then moved the body."
"What do we do?" I ask dumbly. My mind; it's not working. I… I can't think. I nearly died. I should have died. It's not important, it's over, I need to move on and start making plans, coming up with possibilities.
'Should' is the operative word.
"Parker? What do we do?" Liara asks. No, don't ask me now! Please!
I stutter incoherently, a little more hope vanishes from her eyes. "Figure it out," I finally get out, not that I know what there is to figure out. We haven't got a hope.
But the words bring a change over the timid Asari. She thinks for a second. "Feron, is there a control room here? Somewhere to store the footage from the security cameras?" She points to a camera overlooking the floor, its light dim.
Feron takes a second to compose himself before answering. "Yes, it shouldn't be hard to find. But the base personnel would have deleted any data before they left."
Miranda steps forward, forcefully interjecting herself into the conversation. "There's deleted and deleted," she smirks. "Let's see just how good their techs are."
One of the Cerberus troopers leads us to the control room. Miranda seats herself at the console, rolling her wrists in preparation. "Like I thought." Flashing a predatory smile, the Cerberus lieutenant starts typing. "When you delete something from a computer, it's not actually deleted," she explains, flingers still flying. "It just gives the system permission to overwrite it if space gets low. Even if something is rewritten parts of it can still be recovered… To guarantee something is truly irretrievable, you generally have to destroy the storage drive itself."
"And?" Liara asks as the human woman frowns.
"Sloppy," she declares distastefully. "Very sloppy work. Almost easy enough that I'd say it's a trap. I've got the files for the last two days, or most of it. We'll just have to hope the information isn't corrupted."
The various screens combine to form one composite image, we all lean in to see. Miranda plays the video fast, the camera centred on a black military coffin. Eclipse mercs drift in and out of the picture, leaning against the walls or patrolling the upper level. Near the end of the video, a struggling Salarian is dragged into the warehouse. Miranda instantly slows the video to normal speed.
"I didn't do it! He shouts, kicking and struggling. "It wasn't me! I swear! I didn't do-" His cries are cut off by a hard punch to the back of the head and the mercenary goes limp.
"Traitorous bastard," one of the mercenaries mutters darkly, before raising his voice to the rest of his cohort. "Boys, we need to move the cargo. People are trying to steal our payday. So break camp, we're out in half an hour. Go!" The rest of the words, spoken to his aide, are almost impossible to hear. "The Broker's boys are already here. And they brought some guests with them." The mercenary shivers, and even his armour can't hide the fact. "Collectors. Damn things give me the creeps."
A few moments later, the feed goes to static. "So we don't know where they moved the body," one of Miranda's men grunts in frustration, kicking out at an empty crate.
"But we know there are Collectors on the station," Miranda sighs, running her hand through her hair in frustration. "I didn't think Aria would allow their presence. Collectors are bad news."
The words strike a chord, and my head snaps back up. "What if she doesn't know?"
The words give Miranda pause. Then a small smile creeps across her face, growing until it almost touches her ears. "Then she'd be very interested. Let's go."
We make good time back to Afterlife. Since Cerberus brought a pair of cars, transport is a lot less complicated. It's full daytime now, so the only people left in the club are the hopelessly drunk from the night before, mostly lying in various states of nudity on the floor. Even in the off period, the music still pounds. Afterlife never sleeps, it seems. Miranda doesn't even need to pay the Elcor bouncer, just drops a flirty wink and we're in, leaving the four marines to watch the engines. The guard at the bottom of Aria's stair poses about as much resistance to the raven-haired operative. In thirty seconds we're standing before the Pirate Queen herself. Feron and Liara stay on the ground level, watching the exits, ready to fight at a moment's notice.
My breath catches at the sight of her. It's one thing to know Aria T'Loak is the ruler of Omega, another thing entirely to see her in the flesh. There are no two ways about it; she's a dangerous woman. I don't even know how, but she palpably exudes an aura of menace and command. "I wondered if I would see you here. But on Omega everyone needs something. Nobody ever has enough. And so you come to me. Well. Come in to my parlour, said the spider to the fly," she says softly, almost singing the last few words as she observes us. "Tobias Parker. Miranda Lawson. What an odd pair you make. What does the Queen of Omega have that you want?" She laughs mirthlessly. "What don't I have that you want?" She nods to the vacant couch to her right. We sit.
"An information trade," Miranda says evenly, never taking her eyes off the Asari.
Perfect lips quirk into an amused chuckle, and somehow the noise carries despite the booming of the club's music. "A trade? And what is it that makes you think I don't already have everything? That I don't know everything that happens on my station?"
"Something like mercenaries selling the corpse of a galactic icon to the Shadow Broker?" I suggest rhetorically, crossing my arms. It's impossible not to be intimidated. The woman is madness and violence personified. She could probably turn my head into a pancake with her biotics.
This time, the Pirate Queen looks a touch disappointed. "Oh, Tobias," she says, the casual use of my first name burrowing into my skin. "I really thought you'd have something to surprise me. After all, the Broker doesn't let many people go. Well. Not alive, at any rate." She raises a hand; all of her guards simultaneously aim their guns at our faces. A quick glance at the main floor shows Liara and Feron equally covered.
Ah. I didn't consider that she might want to claim the bounty on my head… Then again, I have made it exceedingly simply for her. What with walking into her base and all.
"I understand why the Broker chose to conduct his business on Omega," Miranda interjects, not even flinching at the threat. "It's excellent neutral ground and you probably even get a cut of the sale."
"Perhaps," Omega's ruler replies candidly.
"Then you must also know about the Broker's additional guests," Miranda fishes. I hold my breath. This is it. If Aria knows about the Collectors, we're sunk. We have literally one card and this is it.
The Pirate Queen doesn't flinch; the black barrels don't move a millimetre. I swallow nervously. One word from her, and we're both dead. Six guards surrounding us. More on the ground level. Aria herself is a biotic of prodigious strength. No way out.
Miranda's eyes narrow fractionally, like a shark with blood in the water. She leans in a fraction closer, speaks a touch softer. "Collectors," she whispers.
Aria twitches. Barely a one muscle in her entire face for a single tenth of a second.
Time passes, about thirty seconds where nobody moves a muscle. Then Aria's eyes are the ones to narrow, and the guards step back to their usual position. "Well," the Queen says softly. "I told him not bring those slavers onto my station. How… unfortunate."
Shivers ripple up my spine. The sheer malice in her tone is terrifying.
More time passes; a bead of sweat rolls down my neck. "A trade," Miranda repeats smoothly, cool as ice. "The location of the sale."
It's an arrangement that benefits everyone. She knows we want to mess with whatever the Broker is doing. Why expend her own manpower when we'll do it for her?
"Athra District," the Queen responds flatly. "Sector eight. Third and Kellick. Thirty minutes." She stands, turns her back to us and we stand as well. "I suggest you hurry."
"Are we going to make it?" Liara asks, bracing her arm against the side of the speeding aircar as Miranda smashes the accelerator to the floor, weaving through slower traffic.
"Perhaps," Feron offers placidly, omnitool open.
"No," Miranda growls, sending the car sideways to blast between two buildings. "We're going miss it unless I can get extra speed out of this piece of junk." Her accent intensifies when she's pissed.
"So, we'll follow the Broker's group and steal the body from them?" I ask.
"No other choice," she grunts, barely sparing the concentration necessary to form words.
"I have a camera at that plaza," Feron announces in surprise and Liara and I turn to face him, matching expressions of incredulity on our faces. "It has been deactivated for some time. I had assumed it destroyed. It seems Aria has seen fit to return it to my control for the time being."
Feron presses a few buttons. Suddenly the camera's video feed is playing through my helmet. It's a wide shot, looking down from one of the taller buildings. The Eclipse crew is already there, eighteen mercenaries standing in formation. Six more stand behind them with the coffin on their shoulders like armoured pallbearers. They're not taking chances with this one.
"If the Broker is late, we might be able to steal the body," Liara suggests, hope in her eyes.
"No chance," I retort mercilessly. "The Broker isn't late."
On cue, another armed group steps slowly into the frame, what looks like a score of soldiers clad in black armour. The Shadow Broker's private military, all of them at least N5 level. Twenty of them, though. How the hell are we supposed to take on twenty Broker troopers with just the eight of us?
Behind the lines of black-armoured soldiers, three distinctly different figures step into view. There's no mistaking the flattened heads, the angular joints, the spined rifles. No mistaking the glowing yellow eyes.
The sight hits me like a battering ram and understanding flashes through my neurons.
-remnant-perversion-husk-tool-victim-enemy-foe-nemesis-abomination.The searing, almost flaming eyes of the centre Collector, a gaze that instills pure despair.
Harbinger, leader of the Reapers.
More memories slam home like a hammer to the brain; a tide of Rachni genetic impulses mixed with memories that strike with the force of a lightning bolt. Collectorbasegalaxycentre-colonytakers-thehunters-thetakers-creatorkillers.
I'm glad it's just a video image. I don't think I could stop myself from trying to tear their throats out otherwise.
"Parker?" Liara asks, peering through my helmet into my eyes. "Are you alright?"
"They're here," I mumble. "They're here. Collectors. They're here."
"It's starting," Feron announces, fracturing the fog of memories. The leader of the Broker troopers approaches the pale yellow Eclipse division and their leader steps forward.
"We're not going to make it in time!" Miranda fumes, punching the steering wheel as she weaves through a lane of packed traffic.
The sound of gunfire, distorted and staticy, brings my attention back to Feron's camera. The square is a battleground, bright steaks of light flashing between the two forces. Coloured smoke billows across the camera, intermittently breaking up the picture. "Goddess… what happened?" I hear Liara ask. I'm thinking the same thing. Did negotiations break down? Or was killing Eclipse the Broker's plan from the start?
"It started with smoke grenades at the Eclipse position," Feron supplies. "I did not see how the grenades got there, they were not thrown. Eclipse personnel immediately responded by opening fire on the Shadow Broker's forces, who returned the aggression."
"Miranda, ETA?" If there's a firefight, we might not be too late after all. This could be our ticket to victory!
"Six minutes," our pilot responds - the other car is only seconds behind.
Six minutes is an eternity in combat. Both sides have taken cover behind their vehicles, what's left of them. Bodies litter the square, most of them clad in the yellow armour of Eclipse. But despite their skill, there are some broken bodies in black armour strewn across the deck. The casket is simply left out in no-man's land, left where the coffin bearers were killed. It looks like the coffin was fitted with a powerful shield generator, so it won't be destroyed by random crossfire.
Then what was a completely normal battle is totally turned upside down. Grenades fly from the nearby buildings into the square, carpet-bombing both sides of the battlefield, even if far more of the blasts target the black commandos. Bodies fly like ragdolls, simply overwhelmed by the amount of death raining from the sky. The Broker's forces fall back immediately, leaving their dead where they fell. None of the Collectors perished in the skirmish but only half of the twenty Broker troopers manage to withdraw.
The Eclipse fare even worse. Their leader killed by the rain of grenades, they scramble in disarray before armoured shock troopers pour out of the buildings and engage them from all angles, killing all but one mercenary in a matter of seconds. The lone survivor approaches his friend's killers, bumping fists. So. Feron's wasn't the only mole in Eclipse.
I don't recognise the newcomers' mottled red and brown armour but their effectiveness is undeniable. Six of their number sprint to the casket and load it into one of the Eclipse vans, vanishing from the camera's vantage. The remaining nine shock troopers climb into the remaining mercenary transports, shepherding four smaller, lightly armoured figures with them. They embark and scatter, each transport rocketing in a different direction.
"I've never seen them operate in person," Feron remarks, rolling his head back as the camera feed shuts down. "The Batarian Hegemony's Special Intervention Unit. Very impressive."
"The Batarians are involved?" Miranda shouts, still manoeuvring the car. "Why would they want to be involved in this?"
"Shepard did pretty much single-handedly stop the Skyllian Blitz," I point out. "And she led the attack on Torfan which killed just about every Batarian on the surface. They probably want revenge." Batarians are a vengeful, violent people. Desecrating the corpse of an enemy wouldn't be out of their comfort zone.
Miranda's hands creak as she clenches the steering vane. "This had to get more complicated, didn't it? What now?"
"The SIU were moving lightly armoured individuals," Feron recalls. "They are likely Batarian External Forces agents, the Hegemony's spies in the galaxy. I would recommend capturing one." The Drell smiles, and for a second I wonder if he learned from Aria. "One of their transports was headed in this direction."
Sure enough, an Eclipse transport pulls into the traffic line, doing its best to stay inconspicuous. Miranda pulls the skycar around, easing up on the speed and slotting in behind the Batarians. The Cerberus marines pull in behind us, and Miranda smiles. "That's an old transport, unshielded. Drell, how strong can you make your overload?"
"A simultaneous overload to disrupt the entire skycar? Yes, that would be effective on an older model. Liara, would you be able to join us?"
The three of them arm their omnitools. The Cerberus operator counts down. A torrent of electricity slams into the Batarian's car on her mark. Instantly the van shakes. The internal lights flicker before the whole craft rolls to the side and dives straight down, totally powerless. Emergency flight fins spring from the car's sides and the pilot manages to get the van level for a brief second. Then Miranda slams our car onto their roof, grinding them down with the underside of our car. The pressure forces them out of their glide until the car crashes into the ground in a rain of sparks, a shriek of tortured metal howling through the air.
The roof of our car lifts up before Miranda even brings the skycar to the ground and I'm out and running, leaving Liara and Feron struggling with seatbelts. One biotic hand wrenches the van's side door open, the second punches the groggy pilot just regaining his footing. He hits the other side of the shuttle hard enough to dent the frame, lapsing onto the floor, out of the fight. There are two more armoured Batarians in the hold, but despite seatbelts both of them are in no state to fight. The first tries a clumsy haymaker, barely strong enough to turn my head. It's almost too easy to use the momentum to swing a wide punch, hitting him so hard his neck breaks.
The second cuts his belt with a knife, charging forward and stabbing towards my neck. I pool biotic energy around my fist, blasting him with a Throw powerful enough to shoot him straight through the weakened plating. The lighter-armoured figure just sags in his seat, knocked out by the crash. Perfect. I sling his body over my shoulder, jogging back to the skycar.
Every step of the way, I expect people to stop me. To call out. I mean, there are civilians everywhere. Two or three were even struck by the crashing van, wounded or worse, bleeding onto the ground. And nobody says a word, just watches with darkened eyes. Miranda pops the car's trunk and I sling the limp body inside.
Not bad for an impromptu kidnapping.
Driving more sedately to avoid attracting attention, Miranda brings us back to the Cerberus safehouse. The four Cerberus troopers handle the menial jobs, tying the prisoner to a chair and keeping a lookout. Feron found a tracker implanted in his arm and fried it with a quick overload but we still could have been followed.
"We won't be able to use this safehouse anymore," Lawson murmurs to me. "Not when there's a chance it can be identified."
"He's awake," Liara informs us. Feron is already in the room. The Cerberus lieutenant silently volunteers me as spokesman. Why, I have no idea. It's not important.
"Humans," the red-skinned alien croaks, pure hatred in his voice. "The scum of the galaxy. Not surprising that you'd stoop to kidnapping like this."
Now, I don't like humanity all that much. I think for the most part humanity is impatient, even a touch disrespectful to the galaxy at large. Then again, ever since we got a council seat interspecies relations have improved a lot.
But if I don't like humans, I loathe Batarians. I hate how they always try to take the moral high ground, how they always have this self-assured, arrogant bearing. They practice slavery, levy the death penalty for the smallest offenses and consider dominion their racial right. Well, it's finally time to change that.
"First, kidnapping is hardly a crime next to stealing a corpse and planning to desecrate it as propaganda. Second, you're a spy. Being kidnapped is basically in your job description. Thirdly, where are your people taking the body?"
The red-skinned alien smiles condescendingly. "I won't ever talk to a fucking human," he spits, infusing the words with more hatred than I've ever felt. So much for negotiation.
"I think you should know," I say, surprised at the arctic tone of my voice, "that I'm going to make you beg to die before you tell me."
The Batarian laughs, arms and legs still bound. Instead of another racist outburst he just snorts his disdain and spits at me. The wad of phlegm lands a centimetre from my boot, indistinguishable against the filthy floor.
"Miranda," I ask the Cerberus officer politely, "Could you please bring me my bag? I'll need it."
The operative complies, obviously curious, still assured of his fortitude. I withdraw a small, heavy plastic jar, thump it down on the counter. It's the last thing I packed; the pet from my apartment. The captive alien twitches at the noise, but otherwise doesn't react. "This," I tell him calmly, "is an Irukandji Jellyfish, mostly native to my home country of Australia on Earth. As you can see, it's very small and very fragile. I'm giving you one last chance to tell me where your safehouse is. Or you will die."
For a second, there's silence. Then the Batarian speaks. "Okay, okay, I'll talk. Here's what you do. You need to go to the nearest chemist, ask for something called Viagra and it'll help you go fuck yourself!"
My mouth hardens into a flat line, so taut that my lips look pale as skin. The only thing that stops me from killing him on the spot is knowing that death is exactly what he wants.
"Doubtless you think you're hilarious. Well, have it your way. I think you should know, though, exactly what you're getting into. Despite its size, this little thing is one of if not the most venomous things on Earth. You've heard of tarantulas and cobras, I hope?" The Batarian nods, a touch of wariness finally showing through his veneer of confidence. "Good. Well, the venom this beautiful little waif carries is about one thousand times more potent than a tarantula bite. Have fun."
With that, I upend the jar over his head.
Water drenches the spy's head, and the little white jellyfish latches onto his bald scalp. The red-skinned alien twitches, but smiles in relief. "Is that it? I've felt worse pinches."
I smile back, absolutely nothing friendly in the expression.
Liara glances nervously at her omnitool, reading the time. "Parker, we really don't have time for this."
I wave her off, still staring cheerfully at the Batarian's lower eyes. Minutes pass in silence, the Batarian's confident look slowly starts to twitch and fade. His arms and legs tense suddenly and the captive bites back on a curse.
"Worse pinches, you say? Must have been an awfully bad pinch. You see, the Irukandji has rather delayed venom. About fifteen minutes from contact, it starts to fully take effect. It's been," I check my omnitool, "seven minutes. Still a ways to go yet."
The alien spits through clenched teeth. "I… can… handle… this."
I pat him on the shoulder, avoiding the jellyfish that still clings to his head. Long dead by now of course, but its stingers could still be dangerous. "I'm sure you think you can. But can you? Can you really?"
Then, five minutes later, the Batarian loses the battle and starts screaming. Endlessly. How troublesome. He can't tell us anything if he rips his vocal cords apart. I force his mouth shut, slapping a small stasis field into place to stop the screaming. It'll also stop him from biting his tongue off, too. Two birds with one stone.
"What's happening? Liara asks. She looks a little off-colour.
"The constant screaming would damage his throat," Miranda reply casually. "Nicely done."
I accept the compliment with a slight nod, but Liara definitely looks paler. "No, what's happening to him?"
I purse my lips. "Well, Irukandji venom has the intriguing quality of making the victim feel the most excruciating pain possible without actually killing them. If you mean physiologically, then he's probably experiencing severe muscle cramps and intense pain at various parts of the body, primarily in the arms, legs, back, kidneys, skin and face. He'll also be feeling a headache, nausea, be sweating excessively, vomiting, and finally, an increase in heart rate and blood pressure." I look over at Miranda. "We should make sure he can still vomit or he'll suffocate."
What little blood left in Liara's face drains completely. "You're torturing him," she gasps. "That's a living being, and you're torturing him. How can you do that? How can you stand there so easily?! What's wrong with you!?" She turns to Feron for support but the Drell just gazes back, eyes dull.
This is Omega. There are no rules, no morals. She only just realised that? Slow. Very, very slow.
"Of course we are," Miranda replies, crossing her legs. "Do you want Shepard's body or not?" Her voice is calm, unwavering even in the middle of this cold-blooded torture. Then again, I can't say my voice would waver if I spoke.
Maybe that's why I keep my mouth shut.
"Will he survive?" the Asari asks hesitantly. She looks pale and sickly, and little trembles wrack her frame every few seconds.
"Probably," I answer. "The venom is rarely fatal. Unlike its elder cousin, the Box jellyfish."
Miranda approves, apparently. "It's quite an inspired choice." I nod my thanks.
It's been about half an hour since the venom took hold. Long enough, I hope. I unravel the stasis around the Batarian's mouth, now that he's had a chance to acclimatize a little to the pain. Thankfully, it doesn't look like he's vomiting yet. "I'm going to die," he sobs. "Please, kill me. Kill me. Get it over with. Anything but this."
For a moment, I just revel in the sight. The proud, stern, racist Batarian grovelling in the chair.
Then I tilt my head, appraising him coldly. "Where did your people take the body? Tell me and I'll grant your wish."
The alien only hesitates for a fraction of a second. "Kenzo District, sector fourteen, apartment building 2-73. The lock code is epsilon-63409-gamma. Please. End it."
"Let's go," I say. Feron and Miranda just nod, but Liara still looks horrified. "The final piece that makes Irukandji venom so effective," I explain coldly, "is that it instills a sense of impending doom. Almost every single patient on record in over two hundred years has begged their carers to kill them simply to end the pain." I give a razor-edged smile, remembering the way those Batarians had treated us when we first landed. "This way, I get to kill him. And just like I promised, he'll thank me for it."
A/N: Guys I'm so sorry. This was all ready to go last night, but I seriously couldn't connect to the internet at all (Recluse didn't pay the internet bill). But here it is, even if it is a bit late. I hope it lives up to the promise of speed, and from here there aren't really any breaks.
I'm not sure there's much to say about this chapter, I hope it speaks for itself. Aria is a badass, Parker is a potential psychopath, Liara is getting a rough awakening, Miranda is Miranda'ing and Feron is just having another day. And now the Batarians are involved! Seriously, they get in the way of everything. That's all the factions introduced now (if not all the players), so it's all up for grabs (not really, I know how it ends). Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and if you've got any comments/feedback/exclamations/crack theories let me know! I love to hear them!
Anyway, thanks again to Recluse for her editing. She's pretty cool. I'm a lucky guy. Oh yeah, and the Encyclopedia Biotica is updating again! Awesome!
Until next time~