Chapter 4

As far as the insurgents were concerned, there was a typical stereotype which tended to pervade their image and reputation amongst the ruling elite of the Empire. They were consistently described by citizens as being barbaric and bestial, lacking most of the manners and refinements which characterized civilization and society. Imperial propaganda tended to depict them as being, quite tangibly, filthy and disgusting, with matted hair, dirt-caked skin, and rotten, blackened teeth. Few other times in history had a stereotype been so perfectly accurate on all accounts.

"Hey, Metellus!" the rebel cried to his colleague, eying Dertek as if he were some sort of prized animal caught in a hunt. "Check on this badge on this guy! I think we may have got ourselves a governor!"

The insurgent known as Metellus holstered his rifle and slowly waded his way through the swamp to young magistrate; looking indifferently upon the man's frenzied struggling. He knelt down and cupped Dertek's chin firmly in his hand, as if he were appraising an antique, or deciding whether or not to eat a bite of food. "Looks a little young to be a governor," he finally decided, his rancid breath causing Dertek to gag momentarily. Metellus clenched his jaw and resolved to pretend as if he hadn't noticed. "Look at the tentacles on him. He can't be older than thirty, max."

The other rebel frowned at this disappointing conclusion. "Even if he's not a governor, he still works for the government somehow." Look at this," he insisted, yanking Dertek violently to his feet in order to display the badge on his chest. "That's the insignia of an Academy graduate – see?"

"Just because he graduated from the Academey does not necessarily mean that he is an official of any importance," Metellus insisted. "He could still be waiting for an assignment, or even-"

"You know, I'm standing right here," Dertek hissed through gritted teeth, eying his captor with a maniacal, unfocused glare. "You could just talk to me instead of bickering with one another."

Dertek half expected what came next, but he still couldn't stop himself from cringing as Metellus abruptly brought his fist down, pummeling him hard in the jaw. He could have sworn that he tasted some blood in his mouth as he threw out his arms and tried to steady himself. His tormentor grinned sadistically back at him, clearly relishing the look on his captive's face.

Dertek could feel the warmth of the blood swishing around in his mouth; in defiance of his instincts he forced himself to swallow it down. He was fully determined not to show any signs of weakness that might further embolden the two rebels. For now they both seemed completely preoccupied with their own private discussion, although the hand on the back of his neck seemed as firm as ever.

"Hey…hey, Dertek!"

The whisper was made so quietly that it could easily have passed for an idle breath. Dertek chanced a look to his right and discovered, for the first time, his colleague Zhor kneeling captive in the mud, looking shaken but unharmed. He was so relieved to see the scientists alive that he nearly forgot the circumstances. "I thought for a minute I was the only one left!" Dertek whispered back. "Do you know if anyone else is okay?"

Zhor's eyes scanned the area quickly, his head and body remaining perfectly still. Dertek felt the urge to look too, but he was terrified at the prospect that his snooping might be discovered. He turned his head back to face the two insurgents standing next to him. They were still locked in a heated discussion, but there was no telling when they might finish.

"It looks like all of the non-combatant personnel might have survived," Zhor reported, still silently checking the clearing. "I don't think any of the guards that we with us are still alive though."

Dertek saw the blur as it came down; he tried to open his mouth to warn Zhor but it was too late. The insurgent smashed the scientist hard over the head with the butt of his gun, driving the man's face straight into the mud with a crack. The insurgent snarled as cocked his rifle as he looked down at his victim pitifully trying to push himself to his feet. "No talking, vermin. That goes for all of you."

"Iullius, you damn moron!" Metellus shrieked, causing his comrade to jump, "We were told to leave the scientists alive! That precludes smashing them over the head!"

Iullius grumbled to himself but obediently bent down and helped raised Zhor back to his feet, albeit with a little more force than was probably necessary. His whole face seemed to pucker, as if he were pouting over the loss of his prey. "What about that extra, from the Academy?" he whined with an accusatory finger toward Dertek. "Nobody said we couldn't hurt him…"

"Yeah," Metellus barked, sounding distinctly unimpressed, "and nobody said we could either, dipshit." He holstered his gun and cupped his hands around his mouth. "No more hitting the prisoners!" he ordered, casting his gaze in a wide arc across the band of insurgents. "At least not these ones, anyway."

"We should really get moving again, sir," one of the insurgents said, apparently deciding that there was no point to waiting around if they couldn't even torture their prisoners. "The commander told us to make this operation as quick as possible."

"I know what the commander said," Metellus shot irritably, but he didn't bother to press this train of argument any further. He sighed and motioned silently for his comrades to form up. "Let's hurry up and get back to camp before the bugs start to come out. There shouldn't be any more Loyalist forces in the area, but keep on the alert just in case." He quickly made a final scan of his squad, looking to ensure that they were all ready. "Let's move, then."

A familiar pair of rough hands seized Dertek's arms in a vice grip, and before he could even react his hands had been cuffed together behind his back. He briefly made an attempt at struggle, trying to pry himself free before a sudden, piercing jolt of electricity coursed up his arm with an audible buzz. He could practically see the massive grin of the face of the insurgent behind him.

"You didn't think I was going to just hold your hands or something did you?"

Dertek bit back the stream of profanities that came to mind; to retaliate would only give his tormentor more satisfaction. Instead he was determined to meet the rebels' brutality with a certain stoic pride and indifference. He was better than these unwashed barbarians, he reminded himself: smarter, cleaner, and more sophisticated by a mile. He would show them just how dignified a true Prothean noble could be. Feigning indifference to the insurgent's laughter he straightened his back, drew up his head, and began to walk, following the others in what amounted to a very long and somber caravan of captives.

Despite the circumstances, it didn't take long for Dertek to fall back into his usual state of mind; within ten minutes he had returned to his characteristic sarcasm and cynicism, swearing liberally with each and every stride through the mud. He found it especially challenging to try and keep his balance without the use of his arms; and they hadn't made it more than half a mile before his foot caught onto a root and sent him flying face-first into the sludge.

"I'd help you up if I could, but my hands are as tied as yours, my friend."

Dertek, with much in the way of moaning and groaning, slowly worked up the will to lift his head up from the mud, peering through a layer of dirt and slime into Zhor's familiar, wizened face. Dertek groaned and clumsily pushed himself to his feet. "If condolences are all you have then I suppose I'll take it," he sighed, brushing himself off in a futile attempt to clean himself up. "You have any guesses as to where we're headed?"

"No guess is required, Mr. V'tun," Zhor said with uncanny cheerfulness as the two set off together along the path. "This is the same trail we were on before the ambush. If my predication is correct, then we're being taken straight to the dig site where the excavation team is."

Dertek mulled this over in his mind for a minute. Now that he thought about it, it did seem exactly like the path they had been on before; then again, he imagined that in a thick jungle like this, all paths would look alike. More troubling than that, however, was the implications of their destination. "Doctor," Dertek murmured, realizing that their conversation was probably being listened to, "why would we be headed to the dig site? I mean, what you think is going to happen when we get there?"

Zhor turned his eyes skyward in contemplation, posing himself like one of the ancient philosophers whose statues graced the Hall of Records. "Personally I see two different possibilities. On the one hand, the insurgents may be planning to use us in order to lure our workers into a false sense of security – so that they can attack with the element of surprise."

Dertek bit his lip anxious, already knowing what the scientist was going to say next. "That…or?"

"Or," Zhor sighed, contorting his features slightly as if the words tasted bitter in his mouth, "they could have been attacked already, and the rebels are simply using the dig site as a base camp. That, obviously, is not the preferable outcome."

"No," Dertek admitted blandly, "It is not. That would ruin our only chance of getting out of here alive."

"It remains to be seen what these insurgents want from us," Zhor reminded pointedly. "I suspect that they made need our expertise in order to study the artifact. If that's the case, then it will give us some valuable leverage to bargain for our lives with."

"But what about me?" Dertek insisted, pointing emphatically towards himself. "I'm not a scientist, and I most certainly don't have any expertise! Not to mention that I'm a representative of the same government that they've been warring against all this time! At their earliest convenience they'll just line me up against a wall, blindfold me and-"

"Get a hold of yourself!" Zhor hissed as several of the insurgents began to notice Dertek's panicked shouting. "Listen, you need to try and pass yourself off as a member of the science team." He turned sideways and, with an awkward, full-body motion, brushed Dertek's academy badge off with his hands. "Forget about it," he added hastily, noticing the young man's distress. "That damn thing's not worth losing your life over, trust me. Now, I need to acquaint you with what we've been doing these past weeks."

"You should have done that back on the station!" Dertek growled, his typical thin veil of politeness finally beginning to crack. "What the hell kind of Chief Scientist are you, dragging me down here without telling me anything about what's even going on!"

"I was told to keep you in the dark for the most part," Zhor apologized, his eyes silently pleading for Dertek to understand. "The Emperor's orders, not mine. What we're working on here is of the highest possible security classification; it's a matter of galactic importance!"

"And what is it, exactly?"

"Listen – you know the basics already," Zhor sighed exasperatedly. "We found a five billion year-old inactive ship buried away in the ground here; we think it'd still function if activated but we don't know yet. The two main questions we need to answer right now are primarily 'who built it' and 'how does it work'? One of the reports sent up to the station mentioned what appeared to be markings lining the outside of the structure that the ship was entombed in. If it turns out to be some form of writing or hieroglyphics, we might be on the right track to finding out why the hell this thing was built."

Dertek nodded absently; trying to quickly memorize everything he had been told about the ship. He was pretty sure he had the basic facts down, but if the insurgents asked him for a detailed analysis, he was screwed. "This ship…it's big, right?"

Zhor seemed surprised by the question, as if it were foolish to even ask. "Oh yes, very. You'll see for yourself in a minute – we're just about there."

The two abruptly became aware of a small commotion at the front of the pack; a few loud shouts of surprise, followed by the sound of several insurgents sternly barking out orders. Dertek pushed himself up onto his toes and strained his neck, but he still couldn't see anything through the thick foliage. "You think somebody tried to make a run for it?" he offered.

"Doubtful. I'm sure all the other scientists have weighed out their odds as I have. Even if they managed to escape, where would they go? It's not like you'd ever find your way out of here, and the nearest village-"

As they finally neared the crest of the hill they were traveling on, Dertek suddenly realized what had caused the confusion amongst his colleagues; he froze, rooted firmly into the ground with shock. He extended an arm and weakly tapped Zhor on the shoulder. "Doctor," he whispered, his voice sounding hoarse with astonishment, "look at this."

Never before had such a simple sight seemed so sinister and threatening. Lying just a few meters of the jungle trail lay the crumpled forms of two Imperial soldiers, their corpses neatly stacked atop one another like timber. The condition of their bodies gave the impression that they were only recently dead, although Dertek had no idea what effect the environment would have had. He scanned the area around their bodies, desperately looking for their guns or ammo, but his search turned up neither. The rebels had been a step ahead.

"Oh…oh my," Zhor muttered, sounding only vaguely distressed by the stack of corpses he was looking at. "These are probably the sentries that the excavation team put out. This more or less confirms my fear that the insurgents have seized the dig site. The only reason they captured us is probably because they don't understand the utility of what we found…damn fools."

"Your research installation is the fool," Dertek sighed. "You said that the excavation team hadn't reported back when they were supposed to – shouldn't that have indicated that something was wrong? Not even indentured dockhands would have just gone and blown-off an assignment if it were a matter of 'galactic importance'!"

Zhor nodded silently to himself, accepting the accusations against him as Dertek rattled on with his tirade. "You're right, of course – I should have known. I guess I just didn't want to believe that something had gone wrong. This discovery has such huge implications for our society…and now the insurgents have gone and put their grubby hands all over it."

"Whose hands are we talking about, now?"

The pair was abruptly pulled from their musings beside the two corpses by the arrival of a small group of insurgents; to their surprise they found themselves now at the tail end of the marching column, everyone else having already passed by over the hill. Zhor smiled uncomfortably at the rebel, trying in vain to devise a way out of the situation. "Er…my deepest apologies, sir. I was of course only speaking metaphorically."

The insurgent snarled and cocked his head to the side with an audible crack. "Get your asses moving and cut the funny business. The camp we're headed to is just over this hill here."

The two did as they were told, moving at a half-jog up the last stretch of the path and taking care to keep their heads down the whole way lest they give the rebels a reason to shoot. As they rounded the final bend heading up to the top, Zhor gave his friend a small nudge with his shoulder. "You'll probably see the ship as soon as we get to the top. Try not to act surprised when you see it – it'll make your disguise more authentic if you act like you've seen it before."

Dertek made a particular irreverent noise with his tongue. "Easy. What, am I supposed to be totally blown-away by some spaceship? I've seen my fair share of spaceships, my friend, and I bet that-"

Any intention he had originally had of acting unimpressed fell away in an instant as he beheld t for the first time. When all the files and reports he had been given spoke about the artifact being a "spaceship", they were doing a huge disservice to the sheer magnitude and majesty of the construct. It was more like a giant city than anything else, a floating, tangled web of metal and glass, possessing no discernible shape or form. Its size was simply unbelievable; even from half a mile away Dertek still couldn't make out the full extent of it in any direction. For the first time he shared Zhor's feelings of wonderment and mystery – he suddenly felt, as surely all others who looked upon it must have, a burning desire to understand just what it was.

"Incredible, isn't it?" Zhor said, clearly pleased to see that his new colleague was finally beginning to appreciate the importance of their work. "Look at those tents," he added, inclining his head reverentially in the direction of the massive crater below. "They look like children's toys compared to that thing. I'm impressed they even managed to dig the damn thing out."

"How did they, in fact?" Dertek asked, trying to keep his mind distracted from the trails of bodies which had begun to litter the trail. As they entered the camp he kept his eyes desperately peeled for any hint of a dropped gun or blade, but the insurgents hadn't left anything behind. Not like it would have done any good anyway, Dertek realized bitterly. I can't exactly shoot a gun with my hands chained behind my back.

"Don't try any funny business in front of the boss," one the rebels growled, needlessly re-cocking his heat sink for effect. "We're keeping a close eye on you government pigs."

"Oh yeah," Dertek snorted as some of his characteristic sarcasm began to return to him. "Because I'm sure you usually have your hands full keeping an eye on all these identical trees here."

The insurgent began what Dertek was pretty sure was going to be an especially vehement chain of expletives, but the group was suddenly arrested by a series of loud shouts. All heads turned in confusion towards a nearby tent, from which stepped an insurgent that Dertek recognized as being named Metellus, along with several of his rebel comrades; they seemed to observe the emerging argument with a certain detached amusement.

"Oh, M-Metellus!" the rebel blustered. "I was just preparing to discipline-"

Metellus casually shot his subordinate down with a wave of the hand. "Relax, Udatus, you're not in trouble. Kindly go and have the others assemble the prisoners here, would you?"

Udatus quickly obliged, obviously relieved by the opportunity to depart. Further away, within the depths of the camp, Dertek could already hear a general uproar of noise building, as the other captives were ordered to their feet again. The volume of it surprised Dertek; he realized for the first time that the original excavation team had probably been imprisoned here as well – and perhaps other groups of people, too. He turned his head slightly and tried to whisper as quietly as he possibly could. "How many workers were excavating this site?"

"Somewhere around a hundred or so," Zhor guessed with a shrug. "I don't think we ever took a detailed inventory. We just sent the workers down to the surface as they arrived."

Dertek released an audible groan and rolled his eyes. "It's a good thing you scientist types are always so precise with everything!"

Zhor's usually patient demeanor fell away with surprising speed, evidently no longer able to handle the sheer amount of virulence coming from the administrator. "As if you're one to talk! It's a wonder you ever graduated from the Academy at all what with your complete inability-"

"My inability!" Dertek hissed as if the thought were physically corrosive to him. "I'm not the genius who decided to interpret silence as an invitation to come on down!"

"I already said-"

"Enough, gentlemen, please," Metellus pleaded with plainly false concern. "Is this really an appropriate time and place for you two to be fighting?" He turned theatrically to the insurgent standing at his side. "These Loyalist rats simply have no sense of manners or decorum, eh sir?"

The insurgent commander did not bother pretending to share Metellus' joke; instead he gave a haughty sniff, as if to imply that he found such flattery repulsive. Dertek felt a momentary surge of respect and appreciation for the towering barbarian, if only on account of their mutual dislike for Metellus.

"Where are the other prisoners?" The commander demanded flatly of his subordinate.

"They…are still being led over, sir," Metellus assured, trying his to recover from the verbal whipping he had received. "It is possible that some are being insubordinate and will not come."

The commander nodded back silently, keeping his thoughts and emotions entirely to himself. Dertek now instantly identified this man as being the only apparent threat amongst the rebel ranks. Even if he had only just appeared on the scene, he already emanated an obvious atmosphere of competence and skill.

"Then I will speak with these men first," the commander asserted, casting a massive hand in Dertek's direction. The young magistrate felt as if all the blood had just drained from his body; his vision pulsed with adrenaline.

"Of course, sir," Metellus agreed as his commander approached the two captives. "That is a sensible choice – I recognize the prisoner on the left. He is the chief scientist of this project."

"Is he?" the commander said with hardly the slightest hint of genuine surprise of curiosity. "Then we are in luck. I expected their lead scientist to remain aboard the station." Dertek felt a sudden sense of dread as the insurgent turned in his direction; briefly their gazes locked together, and Dertek quickly tore his head to the side in fear. Foolish, he chided himself. He made a weak attempt at pretending he had seen something in the trees.

"Who is this other one, then? Is he also a scientist?"

Metellus gazed down at the captive, measuring him with an impassive glare. "I don't remember…I think he's one of the main science team that came down on the shuttles, sir."

A long and tense pause ensued, in which the insurgent commander continued to stare intently at Dertek as if he expected to suddenly unearth some hereto undiscovered fact or revelation. Eventually he abandoned his search and swiveled back around to face Zhor, who was staring absently up at the clouds as if he found them to be overwhelmingly fascinating.

"You are the head scientist?"

Zhor appeared surprised by the question; he looked back down at the rebel and smiled pleasantly, seemingly very intent on pretending that he was not tied-up and imprisoned in a hostile encampment, or perhaps simply ignorant of the fact. "Why yes, that would be me."

The commander grunted and folded his arms. With the gigantic chassis of the ship centered in the crater behind him his posed looked particularly cinematic. "Explain to me your work here on this…thing."

Zhor cleared his throat and straightened himself as best he could from his position on the ground. "We began our work on this planet expecting to excavate some architectural ruins that scanning equipment picked up on. Instead, our researchers found this ship. Its huge size and unique construction must have caused the scanners on the orbital installation to identify it as the remains of a city."

"Have you been inside it at all?"

Zhor shook his head quickly. "No, we haven't There are several visible openings, some of which are at ground level, but nobody from my installation has been inside as far as I know."

The insurgent's eyes narrowed in contemplation. "How can it be destroyed?"

The question, which had no discernible lead-up or logical prompt, stunned both Zhor and Dertek as they heard it. It was innocuous enough on its surface, but the fact that it came totally out of nowhere, combined with the overall circumstances in which it was asked, meant that the rebel had unwillingly revealed far more information than he had intended. It's not that they want it, Dertek realized grimly. It's that they want to stop us from using it ourselves.

"I don't know how," Zhor relented after a long pause. "Initial tests suggest that its hull is incredibly durable and difficult to damage. Even when orbital mining lasers were used to help with excavation, no visible damage was done to the ship."

"Well there we are, then," The commander decided, his grin serving as the first apparent sign of emotion he had displayed. "You two fine gentlemen and your colleagues are going to continue your studies of this ship," he ordered, "until you can discover for me what it will take to destroy the damn thing."

"Um, sir," Metellus cut in, his voice fluctuating unpredictably between deferential and concerned. "I wanted to actually talk to you about the possibility of using-"

"Not here," the commander retorted.

"But sir-"

"Enough!" he spat, seizing Metellus painfully by the arm and pulling him closer until their filthy faces were practically touching one another. "The Machines gave us a very specific order – said it was the most important job they could possibly give. I'm not about to disobey the Machines."

Metellus quickly drew himself away from his superior, all the color having drained swiftly from his face. "Of-of course, sir! My apologies!"

The commander grumbled and turned slowly back to his tent. "Put those two in the cells with the rest. Never mind the other prisoners."