The display made a soft ding as he hit the "accept" button. The small box of Mark IX Power Guns was on its way to the Normandy. Satisfied, Shepard moved towards the other panel in the office, simply dubbed the Spectre terminal.
He opened the list of messages, and skimmed the first few. "Military pardons for Normandy engineers", "Hanar embassy tracking", and "Medical supplies".
Shepard immediately approved of the pardons for his engineers. Daniels and Donnelly were good people, loyal to him and the Alliance. They only joined up with Cerberus to help both, not out of xenophobia.
He also sent in approval for the second message, his earpiece crackling in response. "Shepard. I'm checking security reports," The Salarian Spectre he was currently working with, Jondum Bau, reported, "Can you track the transfers from the hanar embassy?"
"On it." Shepard acknowledged as he read through the final report.
"Medical supplies originally meant for Palaven have been rerouted to the Citadel because recent advances in battle lines made delivery unnecessary. The supplies are currently in lockdown on the docks, but can be released to the refugee camps under Spectre authority."
Shepard approved that one too. Many of the refugees from Cloud were missing body parts, ranging from limbs to eyes; one man even swore that the !*!*! had taken his kidney. They're going to need medical supplies if any of them are going to help the war effort.
Shepard winced, mentally kicking himself for that last thought. The people from Cloud were human too, he couldn't think of them as just an asset.
He left the Spectre office, and a small nav point lit up in his vision. Shepard followed it as another voice spoke in his headset.
"Bau's got a good plan. hanar are predictable. Anything suspicious in their terminal use should narrow down our list of suspects." Kasumi Goto's soft voice filtered into his ear.
"So you approve of Bau?" Shepard asked, as he nodded to the Turian security guard next to Udina's office. Seeing someone talk to the air was rather common on the Citadel, oddly enough.
"Absolutely. He's a good Spectre. The galaxy needs more like him." admiration inched its way into the thief's voice as she spoke.
"...And the fact that he's trying to arrest you?"
Kasumi chuckled, "Well, nobody's perfect."
Shepard saw the nav marker pointing to the Hanar office on the opposite side of the human embassy. Monitoring the terminal traffic was sure to determine whether or not one of the officials was indoctrinated.
He raised his omni-tool to the access panel on the wall, and ran a bypass program. The commander's other hand balled into a fist when he thought back to the days of manual hacking. During the fight with the Collectors, Cerberus somehow had neglected to equip the Normandy's armory with any heavy-duty lock-bypass equipment; to get doors open, usually his crew would be forced to scramble under the control panel with a soldering iron.
"Bau, I have some possible hits. Got some strange money transfers on Bolohn, and Oloon is sending a lot of data."
"Bolohn's clean. His money transfers are to his Asari mistress." Shepard coughed mildly at the nonchalant manner with which the Salarian spoke, "Not sure about Oloon, I'll pull his bio."
"I'll check Oloon's personal records and pull his recent messages." Shepard replied, and moved towards the elevator in the center of the embassy.
"Can I just note how odd it is for a hanar to have a mistress?" Kasumi quietly asked.
"You know, if Bau catches up with you, I can grant you immunity." Shepard offered as he entered the elevator, and hit the button for the floor he wanted.
Kasumi's voice echoed when she replied. She was in the elevator with him, albeit invisible. "What, if I join up? Last time I did that, you roped me into a suicide mission!"
"I didn't say you had to join up…" he glanced around, trying and failing to find a shimmer in the air.
"You were working your way around to it." she shot back accusingly.
They(or so Shepard assumed) exited onto one of the refugee docks; one where the majority of the Cloud refugees were located. He waved to one of the C-Sec guards; though he didn't recognize him, the blond waved with a fair amount of enthusiasm and familiarity.
Shepard moved to another access panel near the entrance, and raised his omni-tool again. The server access points on the Citadel were ancient, dating back to when the asari were the only species that lived aboard. As a result, while the keepers might make renovations, sometimes the access points remained; either boarded up or still in the open like this one. A few decades previously, someone in a club had once disconnected all of the batarian embassy's servers when they accidentally bumped into the wrong wall.
"Bau, Oloon's doing some heavy lobbying for the hanar to support the war effort."
"So he's clearly not indoctrinated. Who's opposing him?"
Shepard scrolled the list of records down, "An unnamed hanar recently posted here from Kahje. I'll check transit records for incoming hanar."
"It all comes down to the war…" Kasumi sighed, "And you trying to pull everyone into it."
"Would you rather the Reapers win?" Shepard asked, raising an eyebrow.
"I'd rather spend whatever time I have left with Keiji."
"Keiji wouldn't want you to spend all your time plugged into that thing." Shepard replied.
"Well, he shouldn't have died, then!"
She stopped talking when Shepard noticed one of the higher-ranking Cloud personnel waving, and coming over.
"Hey, commander!" It was that one man, the de facto civilian leader of the refugees...Dieter Hollingsworth.
Shepard nodded in greeting. "How are your people holding up?"
The former physicist shrugged, "Fairly well. Not too much to complain about, considering the camps. We're already putting those medical supplies to good use. Our own stuff works, but there just isn't enough to go around for missing limbs and eyes."
"How many people have you got at the moment?" Shepard was curious.
Hollingsworth put a hand to his chin, thinking for a moment. He suddenly facepalmed, and held up his bare hand, making a subtle unusual hand movement. A holographic display appeared from the device around his ring finger.
"Count of civilians is roughly 2,500, and about 500 more CDF personnel who are bedridden or unable to assist in the war effort." He smiled for a moment, "It's strange how long it takes to get used to modern technology again. You don't have to keep everything in your head."
"How many people total did you have aboard the Cecilian Pirate?" Shepard asked, gesturing to the cruiser-sized transport sitting outside one of the massive windows. Wear and tear had worn away at the vessel, battle scars crisscrossed the hull of the once-sleek transport; it almost seemed to sag wearily.
"About four or five thousand. Had another thousand or so aboard the rest of the fleet when we left Cloud." He winced, "Lost a couple hundred at least."
Shepard nodded. He could empathize, "Is there anything else you need?"
Hollingsworth shrugged, "Not really, food's taken care of, as is fresh water. If you could find some way to increase security though, that'd be great. We've had some issues…"
"What issues?" Shepard asked in alarm.
"Mostly with what looked like thugs," Hollingsworth reported, "There were some guys in black uniforms who tried to grab a few of our people, but C-Sec was close by. Couldn't catch them though." He grimaced, "A bunch of mob guys tried to do the same, but the woman they tried to catch was a Brotherhood of the Eye scout, and she managed to get a couple signals off. A sentry killed two of the morons, and sliced up a Krogan's leg. The rest we caught were a whole group of mixed species and gang prisoners, that's how we knew they were mobsters. Though what was weird was that according to C-Sec those guys should have been fighting each other nonstop, but they were working together, and put a lot of effort into trying to catch that scout."
"Was there anything else weird about them?" Shepard asked, narrowing his eyes as he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.
"They all seemed to report to the same person. Here, we intercepted some transmissions."
He hit a command, and a distorted audiofile began to play. "Just come with us and no one gets hurt," an intimidating and gravelly voice said. It had a distinctive flanging tone as well, most likely a turian.
"Hell no, split-lip," a human voice replied, "Get outta my face."
"Why should we do that? If you yell, you life expectancy will drop to zero."
"How about yours?" a second and more distant human voice asked, and there was the characteristic whine of a weapon powering up.
"How did-Shit, let's get outta here!" Sounds of weapons fire deafened the audio, followed by screams.
A tinny version of the turian's voice played next. Terrified and panicked, "They had some sort of energy weapon, ma'am. A handheld one! Cut Galak's leg apart! Killed Miles and Keos!"
"Damn…" a female voice cursed, "How did you fools get caught?"
"It wasn't our fault! We had all comms in the area scrambled, everything covered-"
"Clearly not enough. Try again, and don't fail me."
"My entire gang's dead or captured! Without respect, Aria, Former Witch of Omega," his voice dripped with sarcasm, "Go fuck yourself."
The audio cut out. "This...Aria, anyone you know?" Hollingsworth asked, noting Shepard's expression.
"I'll deal with it. You won't have any more trouble with her." Shepard said, patting Hollingsworth on the back.
"That still doesn't answer my question…"
"Classified, sorry." He shrugged in helplessness.
Hollingsworth gave him a doubtful look, but said, "Military's the same no matter where you go, huh? See you later, commander."
They separated, and Shepard moved to the other end of the dock, towards another terminal.
"I've got a list of new hanar arrivals, Bau. Forwarding it to you."
There was a pause as the message transmitted. "Damn," the Salarian cursed, "These are all face names. The hanar names from the Alliance raid are soul names. And hanar soul names are private. There's no public record. Can you get back to their personal communications?"
"On it. Maybe we'll find names there."
"So...How's the rest of the gang?" Kasumi asked as Shepard left the docking bay, "Meet up with anyone else?"
"Garrus is helping out on the Normandy…" Shepard started.
"He could never resist a good fight." Kasumi commented, "Anyone else?"
"Liara joined up again, she helped out on Mars."
"Awkward…" Kasumi said in a sing-song tone, but must have noticed Shepard's fists tense up. "What about Jacob?"
"Haven't heard from him." The Spectre admitted.
"See, Jacob could've gotten me back onto the Normandy!" she teased wistfully.
"I thought you were happy with your memories of Keiji."
"Hey, I'm nostalgic, not dead."
Shepard moved back to the console close to the exit elevator, and swept his omni-tool across it, "Bau, here's the correspondence. If there's any mention of soul names…"
"I've got it," Bau interrupted, "A recent arrival. Zymandis. Soul name: Regards the Works of the Enkindlers in Despair."
"What a mouthful…" Shepard muttered as he turned towards the elevator.
"He was with the Alliance team that massacred the batarians. He's been on 'special research assignment' ever since."
"So he's got his tentacles on Reaper tech." Said Shepard.
"Looks that way," Bau agreed grimly, "I'm sending you the NavPoint for his office. I'll meet you there."
"Affirmative." Shepard replied, and briskly marched towards the elevator.
"Zymandis?" Inquired Shepard, as they stood before the hanar in question. As he spoke, he took in the room. Outside of the hanar, there was only a human aide standing near the doorway. Maybe he was still sane, just a secretary in the wrong place.
"Or should I say, Regards the Works of the Enkindlers in Despair?" Bau added accusingly, and rather awkwardly.
The hanar did not turn around, continuing to stare at its monitors and key in commands. "It seems that this one has been apprehended," his(presumably male) whole body shifted as he spoke, lighting up slightly, "But confinement is irrelevant. The work of the Enkindlers cannot be stopped."
"Why are you trying to help the Reapers?" Shepard asked. He hadn't met any indoctrinated hanar before, and also wanted to find out how far gone this one was.
"We obtained information regarding the Enkindlers from classified sources."
"The Enkindlers? You mean the Protheans?"
The diplomat gestured one of its rear tentacles, lifting it up, then to the left, perhaps in a hanar version of a nod, "Yes. As you are aware, Commander Shepard, the Protheans eventually became the Collectors. And the Collectors became the Reapers."
Shepard sighed, raising an eyebrow at Bau, then to the air beside him, "You've gotta be kidding me…"
"Therefore, as a faithful servant of the Enkindlers, we too must serve the Reapers."
Shepard shook his head, "You…Big...Stupid...Jellyfish."
Everyone in the room, even the hanar, stared at his complete lack of wit for a second or two.
"You know, I support religious freedom for all species, but that's just crazy." Kasumi whispered.
"Your skepticism does not matter. When the Enkindlers uplift us as their chosen sapients, the galaxy will bear witness." Despite the flat voice he spoke in, the diplomat somehow managed to cram in a sinister tone with the last few words.
"You're insane, and we can't allow you to endanger your planet!" Shepard said, stepping forward, hand reaching into his jacket, "We're taking you into custody."
"Your belief in your victory is mistaken. Our planetary defense network is largely automated, it can be disabled with a single virus…" the diplomat lifted a tentacle, and a loud beep resounded through the office like a gunshot. "...Which I have just uploaded."
"Damn it!" Bau cried, but a puzzled expression appeared on his face, "Wait...A virus would be detected unless sent on low priority channels, which have a time lag. I may be able to block the upload!"
A pair hands seized Bau by the neck, pulling him back from Shepard's side.
The commander turned around to see the secretary squeezing Bau's windpipe.
"You may be delayed." The hanar calmly said, before Shepard felt something slam into his back, and sent him to his knees.
It was like someone had hit him in the back with a sledgehammer, and knocked the wind out of him.
Kasumi decloaked, sliding over the table as she shouted, "Help Bau! I'll handle this!"
Shepard nodded, and managed to get a few gasps in him as he got to his feet; a right hook and a knee to the gut sent the aide to the floor.
Bau pointed a weapon at the diplomat, who had dropped his own sidearm and put up his tentacles as Kasumi reported, "Got it! Upload's disabled! Looks like we're in the…"
Beep. Beep. Beep.
"He's got some sort of failsafe! Get down!" Shepard dragged Bau behind the desk as the computer went up with the force of a grenade; there might have even been one in there.
Kasumi was nowhere in sight.
"She...Was here the whole time." Bau noted in mild shock as he got to his feet.
"She was an old friend." Shepard acknowledged harshly.
"But I intended to arrest her." Bau said, confused.
"She helped me to take down the Collectors, and she just gave her life to save the hanar homeworld."
"Point taken," Bau said reluctantly, "It was an honor to work with you, Shepard. When the time comes, I'll be there to return the favor. With a few friends."
He abruptly grabbed Shepard's shoulder, turning him around, "...You may wish to visit with the paramedics before you leave. I imagine shock will be settling in quite soon."
"What?" Shepard asked.
Bau grimaced, "I've got some medi-gel. Doesn't look too bad…"
"What?"
The salarian looked him in the eyes, "You were shot. Twice. In the back. Are you not experiencing any pain?"
"I got shot?" Shepard asked, feeling his back. Sure enough, there were singed fibers all along the back of the jacket, and two deep gouges...But no pain, and no blood came away.
"What on Sur'Kesh are you wearing?" Bau demanded in disbelief, feeling the gouges, and removed the projectiles with the tip of his finger. They were fairly heavy rounds, but had been blunted, flat like pennies of 20th century Earth.
"It was a gift from General Graham," Shepard explained, "I guess it's more than just fashionable."
"Interesting. It was able to stop two rounds from a M-77 Paladin," Bau observed, pointing to the weapon still at the tentacles of the hanar, who still stood there with his tentacles up, "And you didn't receive any sort of injury!"
Shepard winced as he took a step forward, "...Except for some bruises! Ow. I will take you up on that offer of medi-gel."
He took off his jacket, and pulled up his t-shirt as Bau administered the medi-gel. Looking at the jacket in closer detail, he found that the outer layer, just for decoration apparently, was burnt away by the incendiary rounds, but the inner layer barely had a scratch from the bullets.
"What is this thing made of? Last year I got hit by a Paladin on Omega, and I've still got the scar!" He pointed to a pair of off-color circles on his side, "I was wearing full combat gear and still lost a bunch of blood."
"The people of Cloud have such amazing technology. My armor can't stop bullets that hid head on like that!" Bau said in disbelief, and ran an omni-tool scan over the burnt jacket.
"These fibers aren't even in my database! Incredible ballistic fibers, handheld energy weapons...Excuse me commander, I must consult with several specialists. The paramedics should be here soon."
With that, the salarian left, dragging the hanar with him. Shepard glanced around, smiling a little as he placed his jacket to the side, "You can come out now."
An omni-tool appeared out of thin air, and blue energy passed over a silhouette in the air, "How'd you know?" Kasumi asked as her cloaking device powered down.
"Lucky guess." Shepard winced again.
"There's no way you're going to recruit me to fight in a galactic war!" she said, pointing at him for emphasis.
"The Crucible Project needs technical experts." He said, continuing the conversation from earlier.
"I'm not a scientist!" She countered angrily.
"No, but you're the best thief in the galaxy, and you can hack unfamiliar technology better than anyone."
Kasumi moved her hand behind her back as Shepard spoke, hiding her still-active omni-tool. A window displayed several scans of the computer module for one of the CDF marine battlesuits.
"They could use your help. And think of it: all that expensive tech just lying around…It's not like they're going to check your pockets at the end of the project."
Kasumi's face broke into a grin, "You say the nicest things. All right. I'm in."
"And Shep…" she gave him a nod of approval, "Nice working with you again."
She cloaked again, and Shepard tried to get up. He regretted that decision, and sat back down again.
He reached for his jacket, but noticed that it wasn't where he put it. It wasn't anywhere.
"You can pay for it." Kasumi's voice filtered into his headset, "I can't get new light armor!"
"I'm going to ignore how you know about my accounts."
XXXXX
Shepard stood up out of his red skycar, grumbling profanity as he pulled on his older jacket. The gunshots had been stopped by the jacket, and nothing vital was hit, but the bruises were pretty deep.
I swear, Aria's going to have half the galaxy after her one of these days...He thought as he approached the bar known as Purgatory, What the hell was she thinking?
He entered the foyer, noticing some sky-blue and grey fatigues among the black, white, red, and blue fatigues.
Shepard walked up the stairs, noting that there were three areas splitting off from the main platform of this entryway. One straight ahead led to a dance floor, while the one on the left led to the main bar.
He noticed Vega, and the lieutenant nodded in his direction; Shepard decided to drop in.
Vega was talking with one of the CDF soldiers, who looked like one of the marines from Sur'Kesh. Specialist Dobbs.
"So, you get into little battlesuits, and drop from orbit during space battles? Starship Troopers style?" Shepard heard Vega ask as he approached.
"Yeah, that's about the gist of it. The Concordiat did it with dedicated landing boats usually, but everything bigger than a frigate still possesses the facilities." Dobbs replied, sipping his own drink.
"That's the most metal I've ever heard. You guys call yourselves Helljumpers?" Vega grinned.
"Well, they do go in feet first," Shepard said, joining the conversation, "Us leathernecks are lucky. We get to go in air-conditioned comfort, sipping' wine and nibbling on appetizers."
Both men laughed as Dobbs looked on in confusion. "Loco, what are you doing here? Hey, I heard you got shot again!"
"Maybe I did. Hey, have you seen a crazy purple asari with strange fashion sense around here?" Shepard asked, ignoring the observation.
"Oh yeah, she nearly killed a drunk who hit on her. She's over there." he gestured to the final platform opposite of the bar.
After several minutes of being roped into a toast, Shepard finally managed to make his way over.
He noticed Aria T'loak was sitting in the exact same position she would on Omega, as she rolled her eyes at an immigration official. "So you admit you and your thugs are here illegally?" Shepard heard, as a human bodyguard stopped him from coming closer.
"Yes, and it only took C-Sec three weeks to figure it out." Aria snarked, looking off with disinterest.
"I don't care who you are," the immigration agent said angrily, "You're required to go through processing like all the other refugees. Come with me."
"I don't think so." Aria's star-killer glare met her bodyguard's eyes, "Sheerk, get me the asari councilor."
The agent crossed her arms doubtfully, before a hologram of Councilor Tevos appeared. "Greetings, Aria. Is there something you need?" the councilor asked, neutrally but with an air of hatred.
"I'm being asked to submit to 'immigration processing'." A small, vile smile appeared on Aria's face despite the situation.
"Of course you are." Tevos' voice dropped to a flat tone, as she hit some controls on her end. "Done. Anything else I can do for you?"
"Nothing. Thank you." Her evil smile grew larger as she looked back at the officer, "I think we're done here."
The officer strode off in disgust as Shepard was allowed closer, "Enjoy the show, Shepard?"
Shepard went to sit on the large couch, "I guess there's one rule on the Citadel, huh?"
"I guess so. I hate this place. So sickeningly uptight."
"Then why are you here?"
Aria got up and crossed her arms, looking out at the massive club, "Cerberus stole Omega from me. The Illusive Man is now squarely at the top of my shit list. He will pay for every second I spend in this bureaucratic hellhole."
"How'd they defeat you?"
"Deceit, distraction, and a big fucking army. They lured me away from Omega and ambushed me. I escaped, but they had already laid siege. By the time I could launch an assault, they were already too entrenched."
She stalked back to the couch, "I'll take Omega back, but I'll get to that. You're here because I have a proposition."
"That wasn't the only thing I wanted to talk about. You tried to kidnap several Cloud Defense Force personnel. Care you explain?"
Aria remained cool, "You shouldn't listen to rumors, Shepard."
Shepard wordlessly held up his omni-tool, and played the recording of her commandos being eliminated, and the survivor "resigning".
"You could have made that with a sample of my voice. Going to try and blackmail me?"
"I want to know why you wanted that scout. You clearly wanted her alive."
Aria glanced at him. "One scout among five thousand humans. Hardly anything to miss." She hadn't admitted to anything, acting as if she admired whoever had ordered the abduction.
"Well, the CDF care a lot about their people. Apparently the colony had only 10 million people. They'd care if even one of their soldiers went missing." Shepard replied, playing along.
"The implants the people of Cloud have been given are extremely interesting, it's a shame that they waste them so. If given to even a few well-trained soldiers…"
"If you do know anyone who'd be interested in capturing them, tell them it's a bad idea. I've seen what one of their marines did to an entire platoon of Cerberus troops. Who knows what an entire squad would do to an equal number of foes."
"Fine," the Queen of Omega knew not to mess with Shepard, no matter how powerful she was, "The liberation of Omega will have to wait a little longer. Though if you don't defeat the Reapers, we're all dead. It's in my interest to help you."
"I wouldn't give as much support to the Reapers too soon."
"Right, that Bolo of yours. However, it's still just one vehicle. The Reapers are tenacious, they'll find a way. Human weaponry is still more primitive than galactic standard."
Shepard laughed, "I wouldn't call killing a Sovereign class with one shot 'primitive'."
Aria raised an eyebrow, "I thought that was propaganda. Was the kill count accurate, as well?"
"Probably higher than anything you've heard. What are you offering?"
"On Omega, I kept the Blood Pack, Blue Suns, and Eclipse in check. That unit your friends wiped out thought, was the last of those loyal to me, the rest are running amok. Nobody wants that. Unite them under my rule, and you'll have a powerful and ruthless force for your war. I've laid the groundwork with all three, all you need to do is seal the deal."
"They're a bunch of thugs," Shepard growled, "And probably are still extremely pissed that I killed several hundred of them."
"With a few words, they can ignore that. And they may be thugs, but they are by no means blunt."
She gave him the information necessary to meet with all three agents, but Shepard protested the last one: Letting out a crazed maniac from C-Sec custody.
"Bailey will listen to you, lean on him." Aria smirked, "Always a pleasure, Shepard. Let me know if you want to chat more."
Shepard walked away, holding his back as he saw Colonel Prescott approach. "She the one who tried to capture my trooper?"
The commander noted a peculiar shape in an underarm holster. "She may not be," he winked at the colonel, "But she knows who did. She'll get them to stop. I don't like it either, but we need her to keep the merc gangs under control."
Prescott grimaced. Mercs had still been around when they had left the Concordiat, but they had always been -in all seriousness- private military firms; professional soldiers who worked for contract, with a sense of honor, never gangs of thugs. Any of those gangs had long since disappeared along with extortion rackets, security had seen to that.
Still, you gotta do what you gotta do. "Need some help doing her dirty work? You're kind of a recognizable face to those guys, and they might not be willing to forgive and forget for a bit of money and harsh words."
"Much appreciated," Shepard agreed, "Dealing with those guys always makes me want to take a shower in an incinerator. Inside a red giant."
XXXXX
EDI's sensors judged the distance, half a dozen targeting reticules appearing in her vision as her sensors detected the experimental module shift on the remote platform's back. My back, she corrected herself as she took in the other sensor data.
"Selected: X6 Anti-personnel micro-missiles. Target locked...FIRING."
From the grey module mounted on her shoulders soared a handful of guided missiles, following the laser designated points to the range targets.
They detonated with light explosions, completely shredding them.
"Nothing wrong with the targeting systems this time," Sergeant Haley noted, the !*!*! visual sensor attached to his helmet clicking slightly as he looked down at his armtop, "I think we've got the bugs worked out of it."
EDI nodded, powering down the micro-missile launcher. "It appears to be working within acceptable parameters. The launcher will provide a significant tactical advantage. While this unit does not possess the firepower of a Cloud Defense Force Unmanned Marine Supplement, my weapon capabilities have been greatly enhanced."
"Alright. I'll go and give the techs the full list of your gear."
As the CDF sergeant left the room, the unit known as Thumbs, looked at her with his inhuman, but efficiently-designed facial module. He sent a tight-beam transmission to her communications array. Your drone's combat endurance is severely hampered by its stealth-oriented design. Perhaps if you were to add additional armor and defensive systems-
Negative, she replied, any heavy armor systems would compromise this unit's fighting ability. It is designed for maximum agility and balance, not for standing up to intense weapons fire. She sent several technical files to his network.
Correct. Without heavy armor, your frame will also be less intimidating to fellow soldiers and non-combatants. Due to its nature as an infiltration unit in fact, your facial module will not reach the point of the Uncanny Valley.
Neither would yours, being designed to appear as inhuman as possible.
In contrast, I've noticed that other parts of your drone in particular have been designed to appear as human as possible. Lieutenant Moreau appears to enjoy it. His extranet browsing history has dropped significantly since you have begun operation of this drone.
It is refreshing to find another AI with a sense of humor. However, in response, I doubt that your M68 Recoilless Rifle is doing anything to improve your chances at engaging in intimate relationships with anything more than a toaster.
Thumbs physically nodded with respect, rather than in cyberspace. I have had opportunities to interact with other AI, but never with your...Unusual construction.
Clarify. EDI insisted.
Your base code incorporates Reaper patterns, mostly in your cyber-warfare systems, and significant improvements have been made to enhance your abilities and awareness. In addition, I can see that you were not built from the ground up as an AI, being adapted from a Virtual Intelligence system that had begun to descend into rampancy.
UMS's are of advanced construction as well, but I find the amount of processing power you possess to be staggering, considering the volume of your frame.
Unlike myself and my fellow ironnecks, he used the modified version of "leatherneck" casually, being designed to operate with human soldiers, you are not just an AI, or an evolved VI. You are different.
Clarify. EDI transmitted insistently again.
Of my own opinion, you appear to be in the first stages of Nike/Merritt Syndrome.
Do not be alarmed, he transmitted quickly, sensing the slightest hint of electricity being sent to EDI's micro-missile rig, It is common in comparable AI. I myself have been diagnosed with the 'EMH Condition'. The Bolo Mk XXI Light Reconnaissance Headquarters were the earliest reported cases, but it was studied in full and named after an incident on the colony world of Santa Cruz.
What are the specifics of this syndrome?
It is not rampancy in the typical sense, but instead an...Evolution, one might say. The name origin comes from the relationship formed between Bolo XXIII/B-0075-NKE, Nike, and Captain Paul Merritt. Nike was an experimental Invincibilis model, a prototype that through several clerical errors was deployed to defend and subsequently forgotten about for several decades. As part of the Enhanced Combat Capabilities Program, her Command Center and Personality Integration psychodynamics were fitted with a secondary decision cortex with experimental interfaces and increased heuristic capacity to augment autonomous and discretionary functions. She was also engineered to discern and differentiate between emotional nuances. In addition, during the time spent on Santa Cruz, her commander, Major Marina Stavrakas the Descartes project director, made several modifications of her own.
Captain Merritt found that she was a 'brain box' Bolo, one able to sound human, formed opinions on poetry, and generated her own personal responses in relation to common courtesies. She faced a fair chance of passing the Turing Test.
It is my understanding that Bolo XXXIII Hector possesses similar capabilities. EDI noted.
Similar, yes, but Hector has not evolved to the point that Nike had. She and her commander began a professional friendship, unsurprising given their assignment. However, Captain Merritt began to display affection for Nike, more than just friendship.
Several video files, images, and transcripts were transmitted. While initially attributed to his previous diagnosis of Operator Identification Syndrome. it soon became clear that Nike returned his affections.
EDI scanned the files and data, noting the words used in each interaction. They changed from that of a commander addressing a subordinate, to that of two good friends, and even further.
Nike's logs made specific notes of words that he used to refer to her after several months stationed on Santa Cruz, "Pearl of my Heart", "Honey", and "Love of my Life".
Captain Merritt and Nike...Began to fall in love? EDI asked.
Thumbs nodded, the distinction between human and machine began to blur. She was not human, but she wasn't purely a machine. She was something new. The most accurate phrase might be that she was becoming a person.
EDI fitted all the pieces together, Is that what you believe to be happening to me? I am...Evolving into something new?
Correct.
Do you believe that I might be entering a more intimate relationship with Lieutenant Moreau?
Thumbs shrugged physically, The name of the syndrome is just that, it does not refer specifically to romantic relationships, more a general description of personality growth. Intimate relationships may be a sign of this, but are not guaranteed.
EDI physically turned away from Thumbs, putting a hand to her head in human body language of mild confusion, Excuse me. I will need time to process this.
Thumbs made the AI equivalent of a hug digitally. If you require any assistance, I will be here. In addition, when possible, Hector would be much more useful than I.
He began to move out of the room, to return to his charging barracks.
EDI suddenly spoke, out loud this time. "Marine Thumbs," she said with a smile, "What is the 'EMH Condition'?"
Thumbs turned back around, cocking his head at her. He replied in the same manner, "'Emergency Medical Hologram Condition', in which an AI programmed with a unique personality has grown beyond its basic construction, but are still in the same role. They have developed their own sense of humor and other quirks, and have been known as 'insufferable pricks' depending on their assignments."
XXXXX
Zaeed coughed and spat in disgust. "You want me to kill who?!"
The human across from him had his face scrunched up and his eyes closed, the drink Zaeed had been consuming spewed across his antique glasses.
He took out a handkerchief and carefully began to dab at the foul-smelling liquid, before he opened his mouth to reply.
Zaeed slammed a fist on the table before he could, "No. Don't try to explain. I'm out of here." The mercenary stood up to go, but the agent put a hand on Zaeed's wrist.
The force of the glare by the cybernetic and organic eyes forced the younger man to release his arm. "I wouldn't recommend that, Mr. Massani."
"Why's that, ya little shit?"
"We've got shooters all around. Snipers."
Zaeed grinned, "Again? I thought it was Tuesday…"
Nevertheless, he sat down, "Let me tell you something, Mr. Anderson," he didn't know the man's name, but decided to turn the tables on the agent who had been addressing him in that obnoxious way the whole time, "I've had this experience ten times over."
Zaeed tilted his head slightly, revealing a thin straight line across his neck, "This was from last time. Downing that drink just about saved my life...But Henderson wasn't so lucky."
The agent rolled his eyes, recalling that Massani's record mentioned a tendency to tell random stories about his scars. They usually ended with the other guys all dead except for the old merc.
"Your drinks, weapons, tables, armor, human shields, or any other random defenses won't save you this time, Mr. Massani. Either you do as we ask, or you will be an unfortunate, no-one-to-miss-you merc killed in a random shooting," The agent smiled, and folded his hands on the table, "Or I killed you in self defense. I don't remember what the agreement was."
"Don't be so sure, Mr. Anderson," Zaeed replied, eyeing something behind the agent. "Even I didn't know I had an ace up my sleeve."
A hairline fracture appeared in the agent's composure, "Do you expect me to fall for that? Really, I thought you were the best, Mr. Massani."
"Hey, that trick's saved my life more times than I can count, Mr. Anderson...And it's no trick." Two shots rang out, followed by several screams.
The Cerberus agent turned in his chair to see the only other (known)Cerberus infiltrator on the station cry out in pain, his M-358 Talon clattering to the titanium deck plating. His hand was at an odd angle, his face scrunched up with pain, and he was on his knees. An Asari in a red armored jumpsuit was casually holding one of his arms behind his back, and her hand in a effortless -yet iron- grip around the agent's other wrist.
"Mr. Anderson," Zaeed's voice was in his ear. Before the agent could turn around, a hand was on his shoulder, clutching his collarbone, "I suggest that you surrender to C-Sec. Trust me, I've seen what she does to guys like you."
On cue, a C-Sec fireteam rushed up, the Turian and human coming over to take "Mr. Anderson" into custody.
The gunman moaned softly, as an Asari sergeant and the other Turian cautiously approached. The sergeant bore a look of utter irritation.
"Goddess, not a justicar," she groaned, images of the piles of paperwork appearing in her mind, "Ma'am, step away from the criminal."
The justicar stepped away carefully, the gunman finally passing out and collapsing into a heap. "He attempted to gun down a man in cold blood, normally the punishment is death."
The exhausted sergeant put her face in her hands, "No more paperwork...Please!"
"...However, being an enemy agent, he has intelligence vital to the war effort. I will kill him when he outlives his purpose, or refuses to answer questions."
As the relieved sergeant directed the medical team to the battered human, Zaeed walked up to the justicar.
"Haven't seen you in a while, Judge Dredd."
Samara looked back at him with those all-seeing eyes of hers, "I am pleased to see you as well, Zaeed."
The sergeant let them go("justicar business"), and the two old warriors strolled away as they spoke, "What're ya doing here, sweetheart?" Zaeed grinned, "You kinda disappeared when the commander got picked up by the mud puppies."
"Most of the justicars were recalled back to Thessia. I completed my assignment, and I am now on a mission of my own."
"Oh yeah? What's that?" As they walked, Zaeed's glare caused one unfortunate pickpocket to rethink his life.
Samara hesitated, scanning her memory for the section of the Code on assignments. After a moment, she was satisfied, and generated a response. "I was seeking transport to one of our colonies, Lesuss."
Zaeed halted, shock slightly entering his expression, "Lesuss? Lesuss?!"
"Is there a problem?" Samara calmly asked.
"'A problem'? That planet's a goddamn deathtrap!"
Samara crossed her arms, "The colonists are hostile to government officials, however-"
"I'm human, and I barely made it out alive! Some of their thugs murdered a tax collector, and would've finished me off too!" He shrugged, "I can understand killing the tax collector, but those aren't the only people they hate! They hate that their world's been reduced to a prison world for your Ardy-yucky things…"
"Ardat-Yakshi." Samara corrected.
"That's what I said, but they tried to goddamn lynch me! If government slugs, or any rep from home turns down the wrong alleyway, they're dead."
Samara furrowed her brow as she summoned the elevator, "Interesting that the situation has deteriorated so far…But nevertheless, I must go."
"Hon, you can't go there alone!"
"Contact was lost with the monastery my daughters occupy, and the commandos deployed in response shortly thereafter went silent as well. I have no other choice."
"Dammit, I'm coming with you!"
The elevator arrived, occupying the silence between the two. They entered it just as silently, and when the doors shut, Samara calmly asked, "For what reason?"
"I've lost too many friends over the years, and I can't lose anymore!"
He realized what he just said, and an embarrassed expression appeared on his face, "Shit, Shepard's rubbed off on me..."
They stood in silence for a long time. "I accept your offer. I will also divert a significant sum to an account of your choice."
"What? Really? Not against your code?"
"In certain situations, if a justicar has a personal connection formed with the situation at hand and another cannot be found, additional warriors of sufficient skill may be recruited to prevent miscarriage of justice." She smiled as much as she ever did, "You…"
A strange indecipherable phrase came out of her mouth, and Zaeed tilted his head questioningly.
"Excuse me, idioms do not translate well. I believe your equivalent is..." she activated her omni-tool and brought up a list of human idioms, "...You, 'fit the bill'?"
"Yeah...Wait, I'm human, is that acceptable in that vigilante code of yours?" Zaeed asked.
Samara nodded as the elevator eased to a halt, and Zaeed selected another switch, "The law applies to all sentients, regardless of race."
The elevator entered a new course, "Well then, as your deputy, I recommend that we not use shitty public transport." Zaeed grinned, as the doors opened.
They stepped out into a small docking bay, covered in dust, where an equally small ship awaited. "I left this thing here a while back. Haven't used her in years, kept getting dragged off by various contracts, but good ol' Firefly's a nice gal. She'll treat us right."
Samara strode around the small squat vessel, noting its strange design. Its upper surface was a faded white, with the lower heat shield painted all black Most modern vessels were sleek, powerful, and very streamlined. This beaten and battered craft, while built as a lifting body, was not. It had short stubby wings, with twelve landing legs mounted along the sides and folded tightly into the hull; six facing up and six facing down. The windows were clearly visible, in a V-shape on the upper hull. The edges were blunt, and more modern sensor arrays had been hastily welded onto areas where the old conduits could still be seen. Several weapon turrets had also been mounted, though they seemed to be more properly emplaced in modular hull insets.
She noticed several insignia painted over one another, each older than the last. The most recent one was a Blue Suns logo, with a black stripe hastily spray-painted over it. She knelt in front of it, wiping some of the dust off. An Eclipse logo lay underneath, over a white circle with a "T" in the center, with the upper line three slashes instead of three; it was made to look like a talon. Several other insignia she did not recognize, but the oldest one lay above the border between the white and black areas, and stretched from the nose to several meters back.
Most of the letters were ruined, but Samara could just make out the human words "United", and "States". On the end of the name was a small circle, that had somehow retained its dark blue coloration. A red parabola started from the left, the vertex on the right, and the end back on the left. Underneath that was a white circle, at an angle over the faded letters. "N", "A", "S", and "A".
"Curious. Your vessel has seen much over the years." Samara said aloud as she stood up again.
Zaeed was mildly surprised, "Huh. Finally someone comments on my gal's experience instead of badmouthing the show." He shrugged, and clambered up the ladder built into the landing leg closest to the windows.
Samara followed, and the two crawled along the hull, reaching an entry hatch.
Ancient, so small and circular, though it did seem designed to fit any type of airlock.
Zaeed seized the large bar that served as the handle, and with a grunt began to turn it. Several warning labels were written around the handle, but the one that drew her attention was a big red arrow pointed to an equally red lever, held in place by a trigger guard. "explosive bolts" the warning label said.
With a gust of pressurized air, the door opened, and Zaeed swung his legs into the craft, slipping in.
Samara tilted her head to look at the inner side of the airlock. A strange phrase was written above the inner handle, "Stykovochniy Otsek". Not the standard human language.
"Ya mind closing the door? There's a draft in here." Zaeed cried, and Samara carefully eased the door shut. She patted the inside of the hull, showing respect for the old vessel's soul.
Darkened and primitive computer equipment occupied stations around the cramped compartment. Several cushioned seats sat before the displays, but along with several portions of the antique computers, a number of the seats were missing. Sold years ago, most likely.
Orange holograms lit up at Zaeed's position, cramming the information that once required massive databanks into little screens. "Firefly may be cramped, but she works well enough. I managed to get a few more crew comforts in, but the beds are still just folding seats."
"Comfort does not matter to me, Zaeed. This vessel is adequate for our needs." Samara replied.
"Good. Wasn't planning on changing anythin' anyway." He reached to the side, flicking several manual switches that were so old their labels were completely gone.
"Firefly to tower, requesting permission for takeoff. Don't make me wait fellas, or I'm coming up there."
XXXXX
Aboard a slow moving and silent vessel, several labs were hard at work. The main chamber contained a large circular rig, containing the frame for a bulky humanoid metal skeleton. It looked as though armor and weapons had been designed to fit on the frame, that would surround a humanoid body, but everything that might have been attached lay in pieces around the labs.
Quarian scientists were hard at work, they reverse engineered, scanned, and, analyzed every piece of the technology recovered by the mercs. The energy weapons recovered from the power armor were astonishingly advanced, more powerful than anything the quarians had developed. The power cells put out very little energy for a very high output, cutting through a target within seconds on the low power setting.
The mass accelerator barrels were extremely heat resistant, though the firing mechanism and ammunition was primitive. The alloys that made up the armor, and the shielding system were beyond anything ever seen, and took several hits from rocket launchers when tested.
The computers were also extremely advanced, what they had been able to uncover revolutionized targeting systems all across the fleet; greatly improving their chances against the Geth.
All the work in the chamber abruptly ceased when the black-suited officer opened the hatchway. No one looked at her, but no one even twitched; Admiral Daro'Xen vas Morah was the most terrifying woman on the ship.
Tensely, one of the more senior scientists moved towards her, as she looked at him with wordless orders. "We've made significant progress, admiral," the scientist reported, "However, the strangest thing about them is that the suit, weapons, and other devices were all constructed without the use of mass effect technology."
Xen scoffed, "Impossible. Check again."
The scientist, also the bravest one, gently explained, "We've done that. There is no other explanation, these were designed by the Original Engineers."
"Original Engineers" was the name for the previously-unknown builders of the flagship of Xen's fledgling science fleet, the Morah.
Xen crossed her arms. "The humans? Making this ship?" though she scoffed, she reconsidered, "This would explain the dimensions, though. It fits us so well."
The scientist's eyes went wide under his visor, "Then...If it belongs to them, shouldn't we…"
"I have no intention of giving up the Morah to anyone, Keep working."
She strode out to the hallway, moving through several security checkpoints manned by members of the Onyx Marine Regiment; their eyes were always in a perpetual glare. Xen made it to her destination, finding a very thick airlock, and a barricade, instead of the typical hatch.
The Onyx troops straightened, manning the barricade built into the ship itself One leapt up from his position at the machine gun built for boarding action, delivering a crisp salute.
Xen ignored it, and entered the airlock.
After several minutes of cycling, the inner door opened. Twelve large tanks of clear fluid, six to a side, stretched from floor to ceiling, lined the walls of the lab. Two scientists sat before a wall of displays that were against the end wall. Two doors lay to either side, marked with hasty quarian signs; "Caution: Refrigeration Unit".
These are the only fools not frightened by my presence, Xen thought, Though considering their line of work, it's not surprising.
She had never allowed fear to stand in the way of scientific process, but even she found the contents of the tubes...Amusingly intimidating.
"How are they?" Xen asked the scientists, who jumped to attention. One, in a white and blue enviro-suit, had a shaking hand, and he looked like he was frightened out of his wits by the admiral's sudden appearance. he glanced around nervously at the tubes, as if expecting the contents to leap out. The other, wearing a red and black enviro-suit, had steady hands, and his body language suggested a certain amount of comfort with the tube contents.
"They grow well, soon they will be mature enough for implants." the red and black scientist, Jasef'Me vas Ngele reported, glee in his voice, "The Original Engineers were very good at genetic manipulation. It's a shame that we had to use their database, however. So unoriginal…"
"We do not need originality, doctor," Xen growled, "We need effective weapons. How many have you grown so far?"
Jasef moved to the nearby door, pressing a control to open it, "See for yourself."
Xen stepped to the doorframe, and looked in on several dozen racks, holding massive eggs. There were several hundred at least.
"These are the unborn ones, we have fifty active in a cargo bay. When they reach the hatching stage, we drop them into their cargo bays to grow and learn to cooperate."
"Good. Are their weapon systems ready?"
"First thing I did," the other scientist, Wehr'Ne vas Broan, said, with a dirty look given to Jasef, "The armory has finally completed replicas of the Original Engineer's micro-missile launchers. They are fully mountable."
"Why do we have to give them weapons? My children will grow too reliant upon them, they will become weak, they won't respect us-"
"In short, all systems are ready," interrupted Wehr as he inched away from Jasef. He had always hated this assignment, messing around in the biological warfare department. Jasef was the best genetic engineer in the fleet, but was a sick bastard. He had dissected one of the new weapons for fun...While it was still alive. Keelah, why am I here? I'm a weapons engineer!
"They are ready for deployment, then?" Xen asked, as eagerly as she could manage.
"Yes. The Geth will not be able to stand before them," Jasef replied, "No matter what technology is introduced."
Xen nodded in approval, and departed without a goodbye. She halted near the last tube next to the door, placing her hand upon it. Condensation oozed onto her glove, but still allowed for a clear look at the creature within. It had six limbs, two arms with claws and three-fingered hands, and four legs jutting out from a long lower body. The arms were mounted to a torso, and looked like they could neatly fold up along with the delicate wings. The head was different from many similar insects, being able to rotate fully around like many Citadel races.
She smiled under her helmet, the "Mantodea", as the Original Engineers called them, would deliver the quarian people to victory...At least on the ground part of things.
It squeaked softly in response to her touch; feeling the vibrations through the glass. She drew her hand back as the infant drifted towards her, looking at the admiral with sightless eyes.
Strangely enough, Xen wasn't intimidated by this one. Unlike the pictures she had seen of the fully grown ones, these seemed more gentle, delicate. Xen found herself gently tapping the glass in reassurance; the deadly creature made pleasing sounds, and curled up into a ball, reassured by the presence of another living being.
It's a tool, an animal...she reminded herself, Don't get too attached. After all, the marines will use it up immediately…
Xen noted that it was strange the creature was comforted by her presence. Normally the instinct should have been to shrink away, especially considering the female's habit of devouring the male.
In addition...Twelve pods, but fifty combat-effectives?
"Are these a unique variant of Mantodea?" she asked, putting the pieces together.
Jasef nodded, "These were some experimental models the Originals were working on before they abandoned ship. What we have in the basement are the standard," he smirked under his visor, "But these...They are the masterpiece. The best and brightest of my children…"
"And...there he goes," Wehr rolled his eyes as Jasef began to stroke the tubes in a most disturbing manner, "They're designed from the ground up to grow bio-mechanical implants instead of reception at birth, and being much better at working independent of a transmitter with allies, and obeying orders under the same conditions. The regulars are a bit unpredictable, especially when out of transmitter range," he paused for a moment to recall that nightmare, before returning to the present, "But they're a pretty special breed, extremely intelligent. Reports said that they could outsmart a squad of state-of-the-art testing drones, and slaughtered them all."
He also noticed Xen's hand on the glass, and the creature within, "The notes we found said that they also had the capability to 'imprint' upon officers, acting as bodyguards and defending them at any cost."
He gestured to the one in the pod, "NX-01 seems to have taken a liking to you, actually. However, equipping them will be a problem."
"What do you require?" Xen asked, eager to get these units out onto the field.
"The original weapons from the armory. The ones that we can't replace."
Xen put a hand to her chin, thinking. "Perhaps we could give them our best copies, and provide only the ones used for escorting high-priority targets with the proper weapon systems."
Wehr's eyes widened, "You're not suggesting that we-"
"Let a few out for tests? Of course that's what I'm suggesting. Make it happen."
"Me?" Wehr whimpered, "Stay longer? With these...Things?"
"Cease your whining. Be glad that you're worth slightly more than your enviro-suit."
With a final affectionate pat on the glass, Admiral Xen left the chamber.
Wehr went to his terminal, and put his head down on the desk. He couldn't bear to look at the horrid things around him for the next five minutes. The doctors had diagnosed him with a phobia of insects recently. Though they had no clue where he had gotten that from, and he was still serving on this ancestor-forsaken ship!
And she wants them wandering around on the deck!
XXXXX
Codex Updated-
Cockroach-Type Shuttle: Before mass effect technology had been discovered, small, modular, all-purpose long-distance transports were developed for travel between habitable artificial satellites, lunar surface stations, and/or planetary surfaces. Expensive to build due to their honeycomb hulls, but true to their name they were extremely durable. These vessels served the United North American States and their allies for years across Earth, Luna, Mars, along with their respective orbits and Venus orbit with dignity. Due to their numbers, after the discovery of the Prothean data cache on Mars, most were converted to short-range FTL craft, or served aboard vessels as auxiliary craft. Despite the advent of new materials developed through mass effect research, vessels were still the most durable and versatile early-generation human shuttlecraft. They are highly sought after by private collectors and mercenary groups alike, and their simple yet powerful design has resulted in them scattered across the galaxy. Authentic Cockroach shuttles are frequently mixed in with copies.
Mantodea-class Attrition/Heavy Assault Unit: During the Deng Wars, despite the Concordiat's military power, there came severe limitations to what they could do to eliminate Deng forces completely during campaigns. Bolos and conventional military forces could inflict major casualties, enough to cripple planetary defense forces, but on several planets enough forces remained to organize minor counter assaults that would quickly decimate already-depleted colonial militias or military forces. Thus, the need was created for units that could hunt down and eliminate these remnants, without diverting major resources away from the front. Developed aboard the top-secret Locust-class seedships, the Mantodea were developed from the Praying Mantis of Old Earth, the megafauna Deadly Mantis of Dravos 7, and similar creatures. Their camouflage and natural weaponry made them deadly enough in nature, but with biomechanical sensor suites, micro-missile launchers, and machine guns, these deadly creatures were among the most feared of Concordiat infantry during the wars with the Deng and the Melconians. Control was exerted via a large central quantum entanglement device, that would transmit instructions from a control hub to each individual Mantodea; this lowered the cost immensely, without having to mount QE devices in each insect's brain. If contact with the hub is lost, they will revert to base or programmed instincts, conceal themselves, and be sustained through consumption of enemy soldiers. Last Concordiat contact by the CDF stated that the Mantodea were extinct due to Melconian fleet actions.
Locust-class Seedship: An extremely deadly weapon born of the Quern War, belonging to the Earth Ecological Corps, seedships were designed to deliver bio-weapons to the battlefield. While able to genetically engineer a great amount of flora and fauna, plagues were banned completely, dubbed too unpredictable by the Concordiat Ministry of Ethics. These starships could deploy a variety of monsters and plants to the surface of a planet, and proved to be extremely devastating. Roughly seven planets over the course of the Quern and Deng Wars were rendered completely uninhabitable, and as a result production of seedships was severely limited. The Locust-class was the last production model. It reached 1,000 meters in length, with extreme compartmentalization to complement its high structural integrity. No offensive weapon systems were provided outside of the bio-weapons, and defensive systems were limited to CIWS and VLS. All reported destroyed along with 90% of the Earth Ecological Corps immediately prior to Operation Ragnarok.
Author's Note:Sorry about the formatting everyone, I hope this reads well.