Bodies tumbled. Blood sprayed. Bullets did what bullets did. The street of the habitat section was bathed in its usual reddish-orange light, and the walls were bathed in the multicolored viscera of the Blood Pack's various member species - primarily the red of humans and vorcha and the orange of krogan, but dark blue and green were mixed in as well.
And advancing down the street-corridor was a very small, very stout man with a mohawk, long beard, and dazzlingly-terrible hygiene standards, spouting nearly-indecipherable Spanish over the roar of the assault rifles he toted.
"BULLET FIESTA!"
So, y'know.
Tuesday for Omega.
The Blood Pack didn't know his name. No one did. But they knew his profile; he'd been killing mercs and criminals on Omega for the last few months now. The various gangs and cartels had tried to kill him several times and had received a wide variety of exit wounds for their troubles. Precisely why he was shooting them - both right now and on general principle - was unclear. The tiny human murderball offered no explanation beyond gunfire and mangled movie quotes.
"IT'S BEEN REVOKED!"
The Blood Pack responded as they usually did someone with guns shooting up their territory. They charged, roaring challenges and laying down fire upon the intruder.
"IT'S LIKE HAVING THREE DICKS!"
They didn't last very long.
"TARGET RICH ENVIRONMENT! HAHAHAHA!"
The last of the Blood Pack in this neighborhood fell, bleeding and dying, and the diminutive killing machine waddled past, humming a jaunty tune as he reloaded, and looked for more criminals to kill.
The most well-informed had traced his origins to a human colony known as Mindoir, where the only hysterical survivor of the raid said his name was "Salvador." But for most, there was only the song he sometimes hummed as he killed, sometimes audible as he reloaded over his slain enemies. A recording and a bit of research identified it, and like wildfire, the name had spread.
The diminutive, hygiene-averse dwarf known only as the Mountain King finished looting the dead Blood Pack, and moved on to find more foes to kill, a brutal grin on his face and two large guns in hand.
Chapter Twelve: Mag-Swap
The hulk transitioned between the stars, as both the ancient legion of minds and the much smaller turian consciousness within worked. The latter was adrift in the former's sea, clinging to his work as the only lifeline he had. The erratic thoughts brushed against him, old memories rising up and fading, threatening to drag him into yet another replay of ancient war or endless observation of cosmic background radiation.
Saren Arterius dug into his covert war, hunting for the ones who both knew about his plans and who were trying to expose him. Damage control as a Citadel Spectre was both a complex and simple task; complex due to the fact that everyone wanted to dig up dirt on a Spectre, and simple because of how easy it was to quash media rumors with a flex of his Spectre authority. And with his clearances, he could backtrack whoever it was that was out to ruin his name. He would soon have the identity of his mysterious foe, and then there would be a reckoning.
His console beeped, and he looked up in annoyance. That feeling rapidly faded when he saw who was contacting him over the quantum-entanglement device.
"Benezia," he said. "I am en route to Therum. Give me your report."
"There is a problem on Virmire."
His mandibles pressed flush to his jaw in sudden worry, but he sublimated that emotion, lest Sovereign notice. Terrible things happened when Sovereign started noticing his concerns, and then began paying closer attention.
"What happened?" he asked.
"A... security breach," Benezia replied, her usual monotone edged with a faint bit of concern. That alone was deeply worrying. "A ship crashed on the surface inside the defense perimeter. around the research compound The geth investigated and engaged an armed human."
"This human was killed?"
"No."
Shit. Saren knew what it meant when an armed human survived an assault by a sizable force of warriors. It warranted a much more severe response.
"Prepare to-"
"The Virmire facility is no longer reporting."
Sovereign rumbled in agitation, the noise vibrating up through the floor into Saren's very soul, a reflection of the shock and confusion that sentence had inflicted.
"Communications were severed at the source," Benezia added. "The geth… are uncertain as to precisely what occurred. I have managed to find a recording that may shed light on what happened, however."
"From where?" Saren asked, heart pounding.
"From the human that crashed inside the perimeter," Benezia said. "One moment."
He received the upload, an audio file, and started playing it.
"Hello, my subscribers!" Saren's eyes twitched in annoyed confusion. This human sounded far too cheerful for such a dangerous specimen. "I'm recording from, well… okay, need to start from when I last left off!
"So, I said we kinda needed a mass effect field shaper coupling set to get the FTL system on the ship working right, and Gethtrap here said he found references to one in the heretic communications, along with all kinds of other awesome stuff they were chattering about. So we just backtraced the signals, got a location hit just a few kilometers away, and went to go take it back from those evil robot assbags. First strike on our mission to save the galaxy, huh?"
Saren paused the recording.
"Who is this human?" he demanded, and Benezia replied with another upload. He read it: a short dossier on a human female, barely an adult, responsible for engineering mishaps and manslaughter. Utterly baffling. How had such an untrained whelp survived a battle with his geth?
He resumed the recording.
"So we thought maybe this would just be a small camp or base, some prefabs or a bunker or something?" The human let out a sound that Saren's translation suite guessed was somewhere between a laugh, a sigh, and a confused grunt. "Instead we found this huge-ass military base! There were geth, and some krogan, and robots, and some big guns for shooting ships, and all kinds of weird tech. It was craaaaazy. Gethtrap was all 'recommend reconnaissance' and 'request reinforcements' and 'advise extreme discretion' but I was all whatev, attack the place."
"...what." Saren breathed.
"Broke in, bashed a whole bunch of geth heretics. Some krogan too. There was a scientist krogan, which was oh-emm-gee weird. He kind of… babbled something about saving his species, then Deathtrap blew him up. I dunno. DT got a bit overzealous with the lasers and claws again. I still need to fix that programming problem. And before you know it, there's this lab, and a big glowy thing that looked… I think Eridian? I told Deathtrap to be careful, but we had, like, seventy hojillion geth running around shooting at us, me and Gethtrap were blasting 'em apart, krogan were rampaging, one thing led to another, and I think… maybe half the base blew up?"
"...what." Saren's word was a tiny whisper of horror.
"And then we found all this other crazy-cool stuff. Like, bio-cylinders growing krogan, and some lab with weird cybernetics. Most of it got vaporized before I could look at it. Kind of disappointing. And we pretty much blew giant gaping holes in the other side of the base too. I did snag some of the equipment we were looking for, though, so we're going to get the ship fixed up!"
Saren was practically hyperventilating.
"Man, I wish I knew what was happening in this place," the human added. "Not even Gethtrap really knew what they were doing. Something with krogan research and Eridians, but well, its all destroyed now. Psh, like that would have gone anywhere. Well, whatev, we got the equipment I needed. Next post will be iiiiin spaaaaaace! Gaige, out!"
Saren threw his head back and screamed in impotent fury, before falling to his throne, head in his claws, trembling in horrified disbelief.
Then he heard a faint chime as Sovereign subscribed to her ECHO channel.
The dockyard overlooking Citadel Security's headquarters was abuzz with activity, particularly around the servicing and repair bays. In one particular berth, a mauled Alliance cruiser was being repaired. Its hull had been punctured by multiple mass accelerator rounds and breaching cuts, and its cargo bay was blasted halfway open. Repairs were proceeding with exceptional swiftness; even as those gathered outside the cruiser watched, flashes of blue motes coalesced into parts of the ship, which were slid into place by technicians and drones. The only complex part was installing element zero-based components, which had to be done by hand, lest chunks of the ship start exploding, and that was only a desirable outcome in Torgue-Urdnot shipyards.
Only a week since the SSV London had fought off a geth attack, and she was nearly ready for action again.
The trio sitting on the docks outside the ship were barely paying attention to the repairs. They were mostly waiting on it to get ready to take them on board, along with the rest of its replacement crew. After all, the London was going to be ferrying them on the next part of their adventure.
Maya was seated on some cargo crates someone had left lying about - in a conveniently good spot to serve as cover in case they were randomly attacked yet again - and absently fingering through a datapad loaded with books on dark energy manipulation. A couple of meters away, Brick was doing pushups, while Tali was tending to Chittikka, doing some calibrations on the mecha-skag's weapons.
"Okay," Maya said, her tone bored. "I know how they got me to go along with this. But how did Nihlus to convince you to really sign on for this job?"
"Money," Brick replied.
"Well, yeah," Maya said. "I meant Tali. Don't you want to get back to the fleet?"
"Vault-hunting means a chance to bring money and comfort to the Fleet," the quarian said. "If only from all the stuff we're going to loot killing everyone else who gets in the way."
"That sounds kinda weak," Maya said. "How'd Nihlus get you onboard? Seriously?"
Tali glanced toward Brick. He grunted.
"You can tell her, I don't mind," the bruiser said.
"Well, remember how someone from MFM sold me out to Fist?" she said.
The office of Hev'Sharro vas Svikari was modest, straightforward, and currently in shambles. Hev'Sharro lay on the floor amid the remains of his desk, staring up at the mecha-skag pinning him in place, while Tali calmly picked up a knocked-over chair and sat down in it. Brick loomed behind her, examining the shotgun he'd just wrenched out of Hev's hands.
The quarian was shaking quite terribly, and Tali casually bypassed the security on his white-painted environment suit to check his vitals. The suit's recyclers were working, indicating that yes, he'd voided himself.
"Hello, Hev'Sharro," Tali asked, keeping her voice as calm as she could.
"Tali'Zorah," Hev stammered. "What's… what is going on? I didn't do-"
"Spectres say otherwise," Tali replied, leaning a bit forward in the chair. "Amazing the kinds of things that a Spectre can dig up with a simple authorization code. Financial transactions between a Migrant Fleet office using corporate access codes and a bandit boss who, perhaps, tried to murder a MFM employee, for example."
"I don't know what you're-"
"Shh. Chitikka is even more upset than I am. Aren't you?"
The looming mecha-skag opened its jaws, lightning flashing between bladed teeth.
According to Tali's readout on Hev's suit, he tried to void himself again. She idly began hacking the encryption around his environmental controls and SDU.
"But I'm not here to kill you, however much I would like shove a shotgun down your induction ports," Tali added. "Or let Chittika rip you limb from limb. Or let my huge human friend here eat you alive. His stomach can apparently process dextro-amino meat. Fascinating, really."
"I don't get to eat quarian meat very often," Brick added. "Turian is good with a little bit of basting and some BBQ sauce. Tastes almost like gold ol' Southern chicken."
Tali had no idea what that was, and was vaguely worried he wasn't joking. She pushed on.
"Now, I have a simple question for you, Hev," Tali said, and leaned forward, spearing his glowing eyes with her own. "What does Admiral Rael'Zorah… look like?"
"...If I answer 'what' you'll hurt me, won't you?" he replied.
"Very much." Tali settled back in her chair.
"Um. Well, he's quarian."
"Go on."
"I think his suit was red last time I saw him."
"Does he look like a bosh'tet?" she asked.
"Um. No?" Hev stammered.
Tali sighed; he must have seen that vid too. The asari remake was the best version, but the human one was a classic.
"Then why did you try to kill his daughter?"
"I don't think we're following the script right, Tali," Brick said.
"Uh, yes, you're right," Tali said, and frowned behind her mask. "Are we supposed to shoot him before or after I recite the holy text?"
"After," Brick supplied helpfully. "Unless you're doing the eclor version, it takes too long."
"There's an elcor version?"
"Yeah, but kind of hard to stay awake through it," Brick shrugged.
"It got great ratings on Dekuuna, actually," Hev commented.
"But anyway," Tali said, turning back to Hev. "That's not really how MFM works," Tali added, and then exhaled. "Look, Hev, tell me why you sold me out and I won't kill you."
"Really?"
"Really. As much as I want to blast your head off."
"...they offered me a lot of money."
"That's it? Come on, tell me the truth."
"Yes. Seriously, that's it."
"No secret ulterior motive?"
"Nope.
"Spectres plotting intrigue?"
"None."
"Corporate espionage?"
"Too risky."
"Shadow Broker?"
"Not everyone works for the Shadow Broker."
"You just got paid a lot of money to sell me out? Seriously?"
"Yes."
"Boring. Oh, well," Tali hopped to her feet. "I've already broken into your bank accounts and stolen all the money they paid you anyway. Oh, and-" she opened his SDU. Guns, boxes of spare parts, credit chits, and a few datapads loaded with various issues of Fornax digistructed on the floor around him. "Loot time!"
She and Brick spent a moment gathering his personal possessions, while Hev groaned. Tali paused to edit his atmosphere processors so he was smelling his own waste.
"Now, I have to decide what to do with you," Tali said, after pocketing the last of the little bosh'tet's gear.
"Let me eat him," Brick asked. "Please?"
"Oh no, please, no," Hev begged. Tali shook her head.
"Execution is not the way of Migrant Fleet Manufacturing," Tali replied. "No. I am the daughter of the CEO of the Fleet however, and that gives me… powers." She leaned down over Hev, and waved her omnitool over him.
"I am stripping you of ship, employee history, benefits, and stock options. As of this moment, Hev'Sharro, you are fired."
The quarian traitor's vocal light lit up, his mouth dropping open, and Chitikka eased off him.
"No! Tali'Zorah, please! Just shoot me!"
"Goodbye," Tali muttered, and she and her companions turned to leave.
"At least fix my atmo scrubber!" he shouted in desperation. " I smell like- Oh, keelah, did I actually eat that? At least.. at least give me back my Fornax collection!"
The door closed behind them, and Tali frowned.
"I didn't loot his Fornax datapads," she said, and glanced to Brick, who was paging through a series of pictures on his omnitool, thankfully-blurred from her perspective.
"Huh, I didn't know they had an elcor edition," Brick mused. He tilted his head. "Didn't know it got quite that-"
"Please, I don't want to know," Tali said quickly.
"Interesting," Maya said, and went back to her book for a moment. "I didn't know that was how MFM handled things. Most corps just kill people who betray them. Atlas will shoot their Lance people for just job-hunting elsewhere."
"We don't have the population base for executions," Tali replied. "And, well, we don't really make a distinction between employees and citizens. Migrant Fleet Manufacturing is… a family-run company. Only we're a very big family."
"Like Jakobs," Brick suggested while doing one-handed pushups. He'd somehow convinced Chitikka to start stacking boxes on his back.
"Please," Tali said, scoffing. "We're aren't using patriarchy and deliberate inbreeding within the line for marketing as a 'family' company. MFM really does operate like a family. We're the Fleet first, and then a business second."
"Sounds like a sound method to operate," called a new voice, and the trio looked up. Maya tensed for a heartbeat when she saw the man approaching, his eyes gleaming like polished gold. It could have been implants, but it was much more likely that he was-
"Commander Shepard, Special Tactics and Recon," he said. He wore Alliance blues and blacks, but bore a shield generator on his hip, a pistol opposite that, and an SDU box. A duffel sat on his shoulder. He glanced over them, his golden eyes bright and piercing.
"You must be the specialists Nihlus told me about," he said, and extended his hand toward Maya, who was the closest. She took it with a bit of reluctance. Those eyes were rare and distinctive. Coupled with his last name and title, Maya knew exactly who he was.
"I was under the impression that he would be leading this op," Maya said. She hoped he was, but at the same time Shepard's presence intrigued her. The brother of one of the other five human Sirens in the galaxy… a rare opportunity to get more than unreliable news reports and difficult-to-acquire government or corp documentation. Other Sirens were hard to find, mostly because they deliberately tried to be as difficult to locate as possible.
"I understand the confusion," called the familiar turian's voice. Nihlus strode toward them in his typical red and black armor. "Commander Shepard was appointed to command this mission due to a number of factors, including both familiarity with Alliance and corporate protocols, and also due to personal experience with individuals we might encounter."
Maya raised an eyebrow. Shepard's experience with Sirens, almost certainly.
"Nihlus will be assisting us," Shepard added. "He's much more familiar with Citadel protocols than we are. And I don't think he'll terrify anyone we encounter on the ground."
"Why would we be worried about that?" Tali asked, while re-attaching one of Chittikka's cannons. Brick, towering over everyone present, shrugged. Maya glanced between them, frowning at their obliviousness.
"Aside from the fact that we're humans," she pointed out, "You have a giant robot skag and Brick has more muscles than the rest of the London's crew combined. I'm a Siren, and Shepard is, well. We'll be lucky if we don't cause heart attacks on-sight."
"I thought we needed scary on an op like this," Brick said.
"A lot of scary," Shepard agreed. "And I plan to put that terrifying potential to good use. Come on, let's get on board and get situated. We know where we're headed, and the repairs should be done soon."
Sovereign did not have a proper infirmary. For one thing, it didn't have crew in the traditional sense. For another, its approach to "medicine" was apparently a philosophy that gaping injuries made it that much easier to insert new cybernetics. It did have rooms dedicated to maintaining tits semi-organic complement of minions, however, and Saren found himself appropriating one for his own uses. He'd modified it as much as he could without drawing too much of the Reaper's knowledge or attention.
Deep within the dim confines of the ship, he paced the oblong chamber, the walls built of inflexible metal muscles and thrumming with whispers and ideas. Saren ignored them, focusing on the holographic displays around the pedestal in the center of the room.
"Why haven't you killed me?" croaked the human hanging from the equipment on the pedestal.
Saren paused and stared up at the human. He had tried to make the process of conversion as comfortable as possible, but Sovereign was as unaware of mortal issues like pain as it was ideas like empathy or sanity. Metal protrusions jabbed into muscles and flesh up and down his arms and along his spine, and his forearms and lower legs were encased in metal restraints to keep him from moving during the delicate process.
"Because you are useful," Saren replied, walking toward another console. "And I know that you are not in an enviable position, human."
"I didn't notice," the human croaked, and Saren nodded. Good. Sarcasm. He had will as well as emotion and combat capability. That would be useful.
The normal husk-conversion process was extremely harsh and brutal, but not out of malice; rather, it was carefully calculated to inflict suffering in a cold, mechanical way. Part of the process involved deliberate horror. Sovereign might be unable to understand empathy but it was a true master of terror. Husk-modification nanites would bind to the molecules of adrenaline-equivalents within an organic and ride through the victim's nervous system, which was why living captives were subjected to impalings that kept them alive. But what Saren needed done here was something far more delicate. The strengths of this technology, without annihilating the mind in the process… it required much more care.
"Sovereign breaks those that are weak," Saren explained as he tweaked the drug dosages. He was no biologist or doctor - and certainly not one versed in the abomination of genetic coding that was the human DNA strand - but he had acquired working understanding of the ship's medical equipment, and had notes from a number of his researchers who had studied the process before they inevitably started mutilating themselves, stripping mostly-naked, and dashing about trying to build meat bicycles out of their coworkers.
"You can hear it, can you not?" he asked, looking up at the slowly-changing human. Higgins grimaced, but beyond that he didn't respond. That was telling enough.
"It is better to avoid Sovereign's attention," the turian said as he strode around the enhancement rig. "Fighting its influence… draws it, like a varren to wriggling prey. Deflecting that attention, however…."
His mandibles went flush against his jaw.
"I find the most effective way is to partition your mind," Saren said, coming back around to the human's front. "Feed the ship something it desires, to content it. But save the rest of yourself. It is… taxing, but it keeps the intelligence from taking over."
"Like what?" Higgins asked.
"Memories, distant ones," Saren said, eyes losing their focus for a moment. "What you do not need. It will keep the mind of the ship busy. But sometimes…" Saren exhaled. "Sometimes it will need you. That never ends well."
He turned away, walking out of the medical room.
"Better to descend into temporary madness than permanent," he said quietly, the door hissing closed behind him.
SSV London was a mangled mess. Or she had been, a week ago, when the battered cruiser had limped its way back to the Citadel with the scorched remains of the Eridian device and the geth that had tried to steal it. Now she was functional again, but as Shepard toured the interior of the ship, he could see the scars of battle. He could see countless deck plates and bulkheads that had been marred or burned, with the marks abruptly terminating where new pieces had been digistructed directly into place. Thanks to the tech, damaged pieces of the ship could be extracted and replaced in seconds, so long as they lacked any element zero concentrations.
"Can she fight, sir?" Shepard asked Captain Anderson as they toured the vessel.
"Were it up to me?" Anderson said, shaking his head. "I'd spend at least a week retesting all the components and running a shakedown. Everytime the ship gets repaired like this it needs to be treated like a new one."
"But we can fight," Shepard said, and the Captain nodded.
"Everything is running nominally. The worst damage was in the cargo section where we blew the Eridian machine up. The geth broke off within a few seconds. Still…" Anderson exhaled. "Lost a lot of good crew."
"How bad was it?" Shepard asked. "I read some of the reports, but they were sketchy on details beyond the loss of the device."
"Only seventeen dead, thankfully," Anderson muttered. "Out of a crew of more than a hundred, that's… ugly. Insta-health saved many of the injured, but we lost a few when the cargo bay ruptured. Most of the dead were my Marines. Had to ship the survivors to emergency medical on the Citadel."
"Not on Illium?" Shepard asked as they entered the CIC.
"I wanted to, but the planet was in chaos," Anderson replied. "Maliwan, Hyperion, and Torgue-Urdnot were at each other's throats, the system defense grid was in chaos. It was faster to jump to the Citadel."
They paused before the massive hologram showing the cruiser's internal layout, most of it a nominal green. Yellow sections indicated damage being repaired. Thankfully they were few. Lighter green sections were nearly-repaired compartments, mostly amidships, while the yellow sections were all concentrated on the London's keel cargo section.
"I haven't gotten any replacements for my Marine complement," Anderson added. "We've got barely enough for internal security, and I don't think we're going to get any more ex-Crimson Lance to jump in."
"Were they among the casualties?" Shepard asked. he remembered reading the report on those two, joining the Alliance in exchange for amnesty.
"Both injured, and hospitalized, even with Insta-health buffering," Anderson sighed. "Barely on my crew for an hour." He stared at the ship schematic for a few moments. "You won't have much support on the ground. London's guns are ready, and I have a pair of Grizzlies that survived the detonation in the hold."
"Any Makos?" Shepard asked.
"No, and thank God," the Captain muttered, and chuckled. "I've seen some video reports from when you've driven those things. I swear the engineers who designed the things threw fits when they saw what you put them through."
Shepard let a ghost of a smile form as well. There was a reason he'd wanted the London as his ship. Aside from the fact that it had been part of this mess since the beginning on Eden Prime, Shepard and Anderson had worked together, before the former had been inducted into the Spectres. There were few sapients that Shepard trusted more - and in the Spectre's line of work, trust was more valuable than element zero.
Anderson's smile faded, and leaned over the CIC pedestal.
"You sure about this intel?" he asked, and Shepard nodded. "Damn. Therum is in Artemis Tau. Far on the borders in the Traverse. That's the Wild West. Only authority out there are pirate warlords and corps."
"Its where we need to be to find the next piece of this," Shepard replied, and Anderson nodded.
"The London will be ready to launch this time tomorrow. You can be sure of that. We might need to patch up some bits while we're en route, but she'll be flying."
"That's all I can ask for, Captain."
Anderson nodded again, and turned toward Shepard. His hand rose, and the Spectre shook it.
"Good to have you back, son."
A pulsing sphere of element zero stood in the center of the enormous chamber. Amid the dark metal, it was a glowing blue-silver star, wreathed in white lightning, casting a gray pall across the central room. It was enough element zero to enable an entire fleet of warships. Saren stared up at the beating heart of the Reaper, and absently wondered how big a weapon he'd need to destroy the core's shielding and scatter the crucial element.
"A foolish notion," he murmured to himself. Aside from the fact that they were committed to this plan, he suspected the element zero core could shrug off anything short of a Torgue-Urdnot war machine firing point-blank into it. That and attacking the core would likely result in his immediate death, probably at the hands of some massive transforming mecha with hundreds of tentacles and random spikes, knowing how Sovereign worked.
But there was more to this room than just the element zero core. In fact, the core was just one component of the tremendous power of the ship. His eyes tracked up, retinal implants automatically focusing on the tangle of jet black metal cords, jabbing needle-like nano-machine-laced spears, and chitinous plates that converged at the ceiling.
Or at least, that was what Saren saw. Without the retinal implants Sovereign had spiked into his skull, he would likely have passed out within a few seconds of trying to look up at the distorted space up above. Distances and geometry became… malleable the closer one got to the convergence of machines and time-space overhead.
There was a reason for Sovereign's massive element zero core, after all. Gravity and mass manipulation were required on a tremendous scale to keep the spatial anomalies and geometric impossibilities surrounding the machines from going out of control.
He couldn't see it, buried within the heart of the Reaper. He didn't even know what it had once been or how it had manifested in previous cycles. They were bound to genders and sapience now, but that might not have held in the past.
But he suspected that it was part of the reason why Sovereign was as stable as it was. Or unstable as it was. The boundary was difficult to tell. He could hear faint whispers of the thing's mind, if it could be called that after untold millennia impaled and imprisoned in the Reaper's heart. Those strange thoughts were more logical, but just as disturbing, as the whispers in the decks and bulkheads of the rest of the ship.
Saren's omnitool beeped, and he turned away from the Reaper's heart. A message appeared before his face, and he read the text carefully.
They were close to Therum. Soon, Sovereign would fall on the planet.
Already, Saren could hear its mutterings and twitching demands intensifying in preparation.
He had to prepare. To partition himself, lest he fall completely into the Reaper's thrall.
The London's comms and briefing room was Alliance standard: a hardened spherical chamber aft of the CIC deck, with chairs ringing the circular deck in the center of the chamber, a large holographic projector at the aft end, and enough ECM to render it virtually impenetrable to any listening tech short of a quantum-entanglement device.
The door to the comms room hissed open, admitting the last of the small team assembled for their briefing. Maya, Shepard, and Nihlus were already seated, while Captain Anderson stood by the projector. Tali and Brick walked in, the quarian chattering excitedly.
"-virtual tours, but not actually walking inside a working Alliance ship," she said, waving a hand over her omnitool. "I've already marked two hundred and nine possible modification options. A week in a Migrant Fleet Manufacturing yard could turn this cruiser into a pocket dreadnought!"
"You guys ever not talk about upgrading things?" Brick asked.
"No," Tali replied. "Sometimes we're shooting people. Or salvaging things to upgrade. They're… actually quite interchangeable."
"If you would be seated," Anderson called, and the pair hurried to their chairs. Brick's creaked as he settled down, while Tali sat with a straight back, going quiet. She had made sure to keep Chittikka stored safely, per Shepard's request; no need to terrify the crew with a walking hulk of metal and guns.
"We are currently en route to Therum," the Captain explained. "In the Knossos system, located in the Artemis Tau cluster. Its a corporate world, primarily a mining colony. Changes hands once every two or three years. Alliance intel indicates that Vladof currently rules there, after forcing Dahl's mining interests out about a year ago, but there's more than a few outlaws and malcontents on the planet."
Translation: it was infested with the usual human dregs.
Anderson turned and nodded to Shepard, who rose. A wave of his omnitool lit up the projector, showing a planet of black and red rock with thin white clouds. Markers appeared showing several orbital installations, mining complexes, and settlements. A moment later, the blue-skinned face of an asari appeared next to the picture, her face remarkably young. She wore a dark, reddish-brown surveyor's coat and gear and wore a pair of goggles on her forehead.
"This is Doctor Liara T'Soni, Serrice University," he explained. "Doctorates in Xenotechnology and Xenohistory, with emphasis on the Eridians. Intel recovered from Fist's base indicates that she is the next target of Baron Flynt's forces. If they want her, so do we."
A spot on the planet was marked with a glowing circular icon.
"This is her dig site," he continued. "She is leading a small expedition in unearthing and exploring an Eridian ruin buried on Therum. We're going in, finding her, and extracting her and whatever findings she's made regarding the Vault." He looked back over the team. "Any questions?"
"Yeah," Brick replied. "We were all there in the warehouse when we saw all this first time. Did you really need to go back over it?"
"I felt a recap was necessary for everyone," Shepard replied. "Anything more pertinent?"
Maya cleared her throat.
"Vladof's not going to let us walk in," she said. "Their whole thing about 'revolution' and 'armed populations' and 'not respecting authority except their own' isn't just marketing, after all."
She had a point. While most of the corps were fairly independent and self-governing, at least out in the borderlands and Terminus, the Vladof Corporation was notorious for bucking the authority of nearly every galactic government and selling weapons to terrorists and insurgents. For Vladof, revolution was an investment that tended to make handsome returns.
"We'll have to be careful going in," Shepard said with a nod. "Vladof respects Spectres, but that's about the only Citadel or Alliance authority they recognize. We'll at least be able to land, but they might not be too keen on allowing us to walk around. Especially around Eridian ruins."
"However," Nihlus added, leaning forward, his green eyes bright and intent. "We cannot allow Vladof to interfere with our mission. No matter what."
"In other words," Brick said with a big, ugly grin, "Be ready to fight our way in and out if things get ugly."
"That's the gist of it, yes," Shepard replied.
"Hey, guys," Maya cut in. "Is... anyone else concerned that our Plan B appears to be 'Fight the entire planet?'"
"Nope," Brick replied in anticipation. Shepard shrugged, and Nihlus leaned back in his chair, mandibles clicking. Tali glanced between them, noting their nonchalant reactions.
"You've done that before, I guess?" Tali asked.
"Yes," Shepard, Brick, and Nihlus replied at the same time.
A dark, arrow-shaped vessel hung in the void in the lifebelt of the Knossos system. It bore the corporate logo of the Anshin Corporation, and it had last been seen docked at the Citadel before abruptly disappearing from the C-SEC manifests. No one knew it was gone until its crew had returned from shore leave to find it stolen.
The narrow, dagger shape of the corvette lurked in silent orbit, waiting patiently. Most ships of its tonnage couldn't last weeks or months adrift in space, but it only had to support one crewman, and he had a… unique set of circumstances surrounding him. The corvette had arrived a few days ago in a burst of Cherenkov radiation, a tiny blip on the sensors of the Vladof defense network, but it had then gone silent. Sweeps of the area of space it occupied had turned up nothing. Drifting in zero-emissions mode, with minimal power, it had orbited away from its entry point, and the Vladof security forces had assumed it was a smuggler, or perhaps a glitch in their systems, and not worth noting.
The pilot slumbered, waiting patiently, and after three days of silence, he was rewarded when a torrent of Cherenkov bursts close to Therum heralded what he had anticipated.
Baron Flynt's armada had arrived.
They descended toward the planet, thirty-odd warships of various nations, species, and tonnage, all stolen or salvaged from one battle or another across the borderlands and Terminus. Some cut close to their original specifications, only slightly modified - perhaps at a Migrant Fleet yard for improved performance. Others were ramshackle, hodgepodge nightmares that would send ship engineers in apoplectic fits of choking fury. Belching radiation from poorly shielded drives, festooned with dozens of weapons, painted garish colors… they were nightmare warships that screamed their brutal allegiance.
The Vladof fleet was smaller, but it responded with swift, disciplined certainty. The gleaming, gunmetal hulls of the long, cylindrical vessels rose to engage, the bright red sickle and star f their corporation shining proud on their flanks. Their cruisers mounted a formidable array of forward-firing weapons, allowing them to lay down massive, rapid fire upon an approaching enemy, while the smaller frigates carried a powerful array of point-defense and broadside weapons to defend the flanks.
When Vladof opened fire, it came all at once, hundreds of mass accelerator rounds, shock shells, and corrosive-loaded impactors rippling toward the pirate fleet in a torrent of fire. The pirates answered in kind, their mish-mashed weapons firing a tremendous array of varying calibers and elements that crashed upon the Vladof fleet.
As Flynt's pirates and the Vladof defenders battled, the small corvette's engines flared, and it began its descent toward Therum.
Once, long ago, Saren had thought that getting outside of Sovereign would spare him from the alien mutterings. He had been proven terribly wrong; if anything, once he was beyond the Reaper's hull, it focused more tightly on him. The voices became stronger, the memories more vivid.
And his body began to operate without his consent.
He paced along the deployment bay on the geth dropship as it hurtled toward Therum. He kept watching the tactical display in the middle of the room, a concession the geth had installed for Saren and his organic minions. The serpentine flashlight heads of the geth watched him with cold dispassion as he paced, while his krogan and turian "mercenaries" made final weapons checks.
The truth was, they had all fallen under Sovereign's sway. Long ago they had joined Saren's employ for pay, but by now they were thralls. Saren simply knew how to avoid completely falling into Sovereign's control.
The tactical display showed the battle raging. Vladof's ships engaging the spread-out formation of Flynt's pirates, the ramshackle fleet advancing as fast as possible and pouring down as many mass accelerator rounds as they could, in an effort to overwhelm Vladof's superior ships and greater rate of fire.
Sovereign had opted to hold back. Saren suspected it could have blasted through both fleets (and it likely would have attacked directly if only the Vladof defenses had been present) but it had chosen a more cautious route. Geth dropships were sent in while the defenders were distracted with Flynt's fleet.
Saren leaned forward, peering at the plots and tactical projections, updated in real time by dedicated geth analysis nodes. The synthetics had already cracked the pirates' pathetic encryption, and were working on the more resilient Vladof security, and were displaying nodes of activity from Flynt's troops on the surface. Saren nodded in understanding as he sorted out the pirates' strategy.
Therum was a human world, which meant the human dregs were present in force. Bandits, mercenaries, psychotics, and pirates existed in sufficient numbers to force Vladof to wage a constant low-intensity battle to protect their mineral assets on the surface. The bandits were under the control of a particularly brutal warlord named Krom, who Citadel intelligence confirmed swore allegiance to Baron Flynt. The Vladof military presence, particularly their control of space, meant that the bandits couldn't organize anything large in scale.
Flynt's fleet changed that game. Krom was mobilizing his ground forces at the same time as the pirate fleet was attacking and distracting the orbital defenders. No doubt the coordinated action would allow Krom's troops to inflict massive chaos and damage to the Vladof assets.
And in the process, breach the security around Doctor Liara T'Soni's dig site and plunder her research.
Saren intended to ruin that plan, but only after the bandits and Vladof had hammered each other into bloody pulps.
He turned and settle into a chair next to the display. His hands twitched, and he could feel his muscles flexing off their own accord.
It would not be long now.
Pirate and Vladof slaughtered one another in space. The corvette's pilot watched dispassionately as they killed one another. A Vladof frigate exploded in a spray of bright golden, molten metal, while a pirate cruiser caught half a dozen forward-firing accelerators at once, its hull riddled with hundreds of wounds. It disintegrated amidships, debris tumbling away, and the Vladof defenders shifted fire immediately. There was admirable discipline and efficiency in how they fought, belying their image as screaming, bullet-spraying revolutionaries.
But the battle only caught the edge of his attention, for he could spot something else descending into the atmosphere. Curious shapes: frigate-sized craft shaped like wasps or insects.
Geth.
The mind behind the mask focused on those craft, and changed course. He and the geth sought the same thing, after all.
He would just need to cut his way through them. The idea was… not unpleasant.
Liar T'Soni's dig site was nestled in a craggy mountain between two rivers of lava, overlooking a volcanic floodplain. The Eridians had chosen a strange place to built their facility, Saren mused. He could see minimal serious security around the dig site. A path led up the side of the mountain, with digging equipment and a campsite set up along the slope where the researchers had begun cutting into the mountain to reach the ruins. Vladof security hired by the research team had set up a security gate of dark metal and ceramic down the slope, and several watchtowers with automated guns were covering the approach. Soldiers in dark brown and green hardsuits stood atop the wall, bearing the red sickle of the corporation on prominent shoulder plates.
The towers burned, and the guards atop the wall were firing down into a throng of screaming human madmen, who charged under the covering fire of a dozen heavy wheeled technicals equipped with heavy cannons and rocket launchers. As Saren watched the battle rage, he saw a section of the gate explode inward, and the bandits poured forward, leaping into the breach, firing pistols and shotguns at point blank and laying into the Vladof troops with swinging blades and clubs.
The sight made Sovereign hungry.
His arms moved, and not at his command. His legs propelled him toward the drop chute, and he didn't fight them. He got one last look at the tactical display, showing enemy positions, and then he was wreathed in a mass effect field.
He closed his eyes.
When Saren opened them, he was no longer in control.
The Reaper's will surged through him, and he found himself throwing his head back, screaming at the top of his lungs. The cybernetics thrummed beneath his skin, filling him with power and speed. he could hear his soldiers around him screaming in anticipation as well, while the geth stood by in mechanical silence.
The field wrapped around him, the chute opened, and then he was falling.
The ground rushed up. He could, for a heartbeat, see the warring sides. Krom's bandits, many half-naked psychopaths, were breaching the thin line of Vladof security outside the dig site. Vladof troops were falling back, laying down a deluge of bullets from their rapid-fire weapons. Blood sprayed, mixing in with the red-black volcanic soil and rock.
Some of them had stopped fighting as the geth troopship descended; a few were even firing up at the vessel, useless as it was. The geth and Saren's soldiers crashed down among them, scattering Vladof troops and Krom's bandits. Saren hit the ground, the mass effect field cushioning his impact even as he hit.
He rose from a low crouch, and reached over his back. He could feel the power in his limbs, and the Reaper's will sent him surging forward toward a human psychopath. As he charged, he yanked the long haft of his weapon off his back and activated it. The polearm-length battleaxe screamed as its motor started up, and red lightning shot down the axe's length as its blades started spinning.
"My pants are potentially also your pants!" the psycho screamed as he charged Saren, his own buzzsaw axe raised, but Saren's blade lashed down with lightning speed and terrifying power. The impact simultaneously crushed, tore, ripped, and exploded the human lunatic into a cloud of flying body parts and splattering blood.
And Sovereign exulted in the violence. Heat burned, skin cracked, and light boiled off the turian's body.
Saren spun toward another target. He had a modicum of control over his body, enough to at least direct it toward a target. It was akin to flying a cargo hauler that couldn't stop; he could guide himself toward his next victim, but he couldn't stop the killing.
The Reaper's mind seized his body, including his lungs and vocal chords, and madness spilled out of Saren's mandibles as he decapitated another bandit in a spray of glorious crimson.
"You're part of MY SQUISHY CRIMSON UNIVERSE NOW!" he howled, burying his lightning axe into another human body, sending chunks flying in all directions.
"My stomach is a vacuum, and YOU'RE going to fill it WITH YOUR BLOODY BITS!"
He raised the lightning axe, and his warriors screamed in bloody savagery, and they charged into the bandit horde.
Codex - Megacorporations - Vladof
The Vladof Corporation was founded shortly before First Contact as a weapons and heavy industry manufacturer specializing in simple, rugged, mass-produced equipment. The First Contact War resulted in a number of human colonies being occupied by Eclipse mercenaries. While much of the fighting was carried out by the Jakobs Corporation's Lone Star units, Vladof was able to supply a wide range of weapons to human insurgents. Accusations of war profiteering faded when Vladof-armed insurgents forced Eclipse off two separate colony worlds. Vladof's brand erupted in popularity as a result, and they capitalized on their status to provide the "arms of the revolution" to the galaxy.
Catering to survivalists, anarchists, border world residents, krogan, vorcha, and insurgent revolutionaries the galaxy over, Vladof offers a wide range of rugged survival gear, explosives, small arms, and heavy support weapons in addition to colony kits and heavy industrial equipment. Vladof weapon tend to feature either rapid-fire mechanisms or heat-diffusing coils to enable a constant rate of rapid fire. Vladof shield systems use a proprietary Eridian-derived technology to deflect and "catch" incoming rounds; Vladof scientists vehemently deny claims that they "have no idea how the technology actually works."
Vladof has been accused of taking its "revolution" marketing too close to heart; the corporation frequently bucks Alliance and Citadel authority, especially in the borderlands, and has been accused of deliberately fomenting rebellions on many worlds. The most frequent targets of these rebellions have been worlds controlled by other competing corporations, where Vladof often sells their weapons at a discount. Particular controversy surrounds their support of massed slave rebellions in the Batarian Hegemony and more recently an uprising on the Atlas-controlled planet Garvung.
Bonus Scene!
Three years ago….
"As you can see, High Commander, Tediore Corporation weapons offer the Batarian Hegemony the best balance of affordability, efficiency, and potential violations of Citadel law!"
High Commander Ka'hiaril Balak nodded, all four eyes meeting the idiotic pair of electronic eyes on the obnoxiously smiling synthetic standing before him. It was modeled after a human female, with silvery metal skin and ridiculously ugly proportions, at least by batarian standards. Human females were so… hideously skinny, and the teats on the synthetic body were grotesquely oversized (then, they were oversized on every female, really, because batarians didn't have them in the first place). It wore a generically plaid white and black dress, with the Tediore logo across the chest. The face moved using some kind of intriguing shaped metal, looking not quite like actual, if metallic, skin.
Balak pulled himself away from his disgust and back to the projected chart before him. The small conference room was overlooking a massive military assembly bay on the planet of Adek, and a full division of Hegemony Special Intervention Enforcers were below, being issued with the latest Tediore armaments. The blocky, simplistic-looking weapons belied their effectiveness, if the live fire exercises he had witnessed were anything to go by.
"And what does your corporation get from this deal, Mrs. Tediore?" he asked. It was a valid question in his line of work. After all, Special Intervention was all about unconventional warfare, hunting for secrets, and policing the Hegemony of dangerous and subversive elements. Suspicion was like air, and paranoia was as vital as water.
"Whatever do you mean?" the sweet-voiced synthetic woman replied, a typical vapid smile on its face. He didn't let the stupid expression or innocent voice fool him. Mrs. Tediore's avatar was exactly that, and he was not going to underestimate the master of a galactic corporation because of her remote representative.
"The other corporations have stayed out of our war with Vladof," Balak said, fixing her with his best skeptical expression of suspicion. It had broken generals, admirals, and governors with entire systems at their command. "You are the first to offer us a weapons deal. I find that curious. You humans have to have a motive for helping us kill other humans."
"Oh, you!" Mrs. Tediore said, and let out a cheerful laugh. Balak's face screwed up in irritation. "So species-centric! We at Tediore don't care what DNA sequence you point our weapons at! We are entirely profit-oriented."
"And the fact that we'll be killing Vladof Revolutionary Guards?" Balak asked. "That has nothing to do with your support?"
"Oh, it has everything to do with our support," Mrs. Tediore said, with another idiotic smile. "We leap at the chance to diminish competitor assets! Not to mention that, well… you batarians are a terrible market for home defense, but you do an excellent job at raising the demand for cheap home defense weaponry. Making the Hegemony more dangerous will shoot our sales up by a projected four percent per Hegemony-controlled system, and by nine percent per system raised by Hegemony-funded pirates!"
Balak's frown faded. That was actually quite the sensible argument. Which made him more suspicious, but he didn't want to admit that. The fact was, the Tediore deal was quite good, and the pure profit motive was satisfactory. He didn't like the idea of being used as part of a corporate war, but if it would get his Special Intervention units better weapons to deal with Vladof's armies and their incessant attempts to liberate the slave caste, he would deal with them.
"Fine," Balak said. "But we need to increase the ratio of potential war crimes to soldier by another forty percent."
SI had a reputation to consider, after all. Flash-fabricated monowire nets and head-exploding omnitool mods were fine, but he needed more than that.
"I know just the thing!" Mrs. Tediore replied, all bubbles and happiness. "Digistruct-deployed nerve gas! With a bulk order, we can include attachable launchers…."
Two months ago….
"I am so pleased to see your progress!" Mrs. Tediore's avatar said, bouncing across the conference room. This one had the same stupid synthetic face, grotesque synthetic body, and wore a red and white dress.
"The latest round of weapons has proven most useful," Balak said with a nod. Other batarian officers and ministers stood in the room with him, eager to get in on the unexpected success from the new armaments. Balak had once had his doubts, but Tediore's arms shipments had let them stop the relentless advance of Vladof's minigun-wielding revolutionaries and the tidal waves of bullets and other munitions they deployed. The Hegemony had actually managed to drive Vladof out of all of the formerly batarian-held worlds that the corporation had occupied. By now a significant number of Hegemony troops were armed with Tediore guns.
"That is such wonderful news!" the synthetic said. "We at Tediore are so pleased to have such regular customers buying from us these last few years!" She looked over the entire group of Hegemony officials, her fake smile growing. "Loyalty among buyers is such a rare trait! Now, i would love to give you and your army the first chance to try a special upgrade!"
"What kind of upgrade?" Balak asked, suspicious. He suppressed that, however. With so many important people in the room, he had to be cautious. Just because he was the High Commander of Special Intervention's logistics and acquisitions didn't mean he couldn't be incautious.
"We at Tediore have been working on a free firmware upgrade across all of our most recent small arms lines," she said. "We anticipate that our proprietary Economy Engagement Acceleration software will improve target acquisition, HUD synchronization, and SDU compatibility! And we want to give your army a free trial of this upgrade!"
"How many weapons will it affect?" Balak asked.
"The initial trial and upgrade will affect about one-point-two million weapons which we have recently sold to the Hegemony," she said, and her omnitool lit up. "You'll see tangible benefits near-instantly!"
There were murmurs around the room, and several of the officers and ministers present, plus their bodyguards, looked at their Tediore-issue weapons in their hands or holstered at their sides. Balak pulled his sidearm from his own SDU and glanced at it. The gun had been very effective and useful so far. An improvement to make it even deadlier would be… worthwhile.
"With just the press of a holographic button," she said, metal teeth gleaming, "I can upgrade these weapons! The software update will be beamed across every comm buoy in Hegemony space! Just watch!"
Balak looked up suddenly, and the synthetic avatar's omnitool flashed.
Something clenched up in his chest.
"You've tested this firmware upgrade, haven't you?" he asked, setting his sidearm on the table. "I think we need confirmation-"
Noise filled the room, and Balak slammed into a nearby wall. His shields howled at him, warning that they had been depleted, and pain rolled through his body. He could feel a hot wetness rolling down his face and head, and from long experience he recognized the sensation of warm blood on his skin. He turned around, pushing his body up, his entire left side screaming in pain. His armor was shredded in places, blood leaking over the plates and dripping to the floor.
Bodies littered the conference room. The splattered remains of nearly every minister and officer decorated the floors, walls, and ceilings. Armored bodyguards were partially intact compared with the unarmored batarians who had been liquefied by the detonations, but most of them were still dead or unconscious. The table was shattered in multiple places…
Including a gaping hole where he'd put down his pistol.
"What…" he croaked and looked up at Mrs. Tediore's avatar. The synthetic was splattered with bright red batarian blood, her mechanical face locked in that stupid smile.. He stared at her for several seconds, before she finally spoke, the smile ubruptly fading to a confused frown.
"Um. Hm." The avatar's head turned toward Balak.
"That… upgrade…." he snarled, trying to stand. "Did you… just…."
"Oh, it went out across the entire comm buoy network," she said, her words surprised and uncertain. "That was… an unexpected result…."
"You just… detonated every gun in Hegemony space!" Balak felt heat in his chest, raw fury. "How many batarians did you just kill?"
"Oh, please, we didn't detonate all of them," Mrs. Tediore said, surprise turning to annoyance. "Just the one-point-two million weapons with the firmware update." She shrugged. "Well, good thing we didn't sell them to anyone important."
"You metal bitch!" Balak shouted, enforcement gauntlet igniting.
"Oh," Mrs, Tediore said, eyes flicking to the glowing orange field that appeared around Balak's free hand. "I guess this means we're about to go to war, doesn't it?" She let out an audible sigh. "Figures. This will kill our profit margins, won't it?"
Balak responded by driving his hand straight through the avatar's shiny metal face, blasting it to sparking pieces.