Light classical played softly in the nearly empty lounge. The tones evoking memories of gentle caresses, warm smiles, and of memories long past. A lone bartender stood by wiping a clean glass with an impeccably white cloth paying his lone patron no mind. The warmth and comfort of the atmosphere refused to acknowledge the events of the world beyond it. With its expensive tapestries and decorations, it was reminiscent of the finest establishments that had been on Earth.
It was just how she liked it.
Cassandra sipped gently from her wine glass as she sat at the bar trying to relieve the tension of the day. The fiery wine playing on her tongue and the soft surroundings ensconcing her seemed to help, as did the isolation from everyone. Especially Aliens.
Cassandra eased back in to her chair to try to relax, but a sour thought still seemed to linger. Through out her career, she had heard whispers of the term 'racist' from time to time when ever her name was brought up in some circles. But 'they' are wrong. She mused as she took another kiss from her wine.
I don't hate them. I simply cannot see how all the races of the Galaxy can co-exist. Her mind whispered as she looked around the empty room.
The differences are not simply social or political. They are as different from us as can be. The current galactic climate is showing it. The trial is showing it. Outside beyond her oasis of peace, she knew that the galaxy was broiling away at itself, separating like water and oil.
The different peoples of this galaxy will see the vast differences and will only receded further in to their own holdings. As it should be. She purred as her wine again soothed her throat.
The Quarians and their Geth creations had done it. No sooner had the war ended that the Council had been evicted from Rhannoch and Quarian/Geth space was off-limits to everyone. They had only reopened to greater Galaxy when they were granted a joint Embassy. Appalled by the offering, the Quarians and Geth continued to tightly control who and what passed through their territory, and over the past year or so had become less and less open in participating in Galactic Politics.
The Krogan had also become more reclusive as the majority of their kind had returned to Tuchanka to try to rebuild their flimsy excuse for a planet and a society. Not that the rest of the Galaxy mourned their general departure. The Krogan are a testament to Alien hubris. They think themselves so high and mighty; so wise and look as what they wrought. There is lesson in that though that even we must learn from. Perhaps this trial will teach this lesson.
As for the rest of the Council species; Cassandra knew that the peace was all a farce. If any peace had really existed after the war, it had only lasted for six months. As the ravages of war finally started to settle back in to the galactic consciousness, the Aliens starting squabbling over what was their own. The Turians struggled to return to their status quo of before the war. An impossible task. The Asari were dealing with the political upheavals. Questioning their beliefs.
Even the old wise ' women' tend to have feelings pangs of regret and unknown.
Yet every one of them owes us so much. And still they demand more from us, and the Alliance will give it to them, until we are nothing more then a memory. Cassandra mused bitterly as she wrapped her hand tighter around the glass's stem.
The Alliance takes the poor excuse for a planet and smiles at the empty promises of help. Officials and Parliament celebrate as millions are forced to live in cramped and over populated orbiting hulks of tattered ships. Fools! She looked outside beyond the smoke to the glittery sea. How many children will never set foot on solid ground? Never feel the warmth of a sun on their face? Never know the cool touch of a mountain river?
She took a drink and let a warm thought cross her mind. That at least for six months there had been real and true peace. Incredibly tangible peace. So close. True victory had felt so close...
Setting the glass down on the rich wood in front her, she looked at the goblet where a small amount of ruby liquid remained. Then a mournful look formed on her face. It is too bad it took a Reaper to do it... she thought. But no matter, because tomorrow I will do what it took entire fleets to do. I will slay a Reaper. I will show the incompetent for what they are, and let them burn. She whispered to herself as she finished the glass. Then there will be peace again, and this time it will last...
"Good to see you enjoying life." A warm velvety voice spoke.
Cassandra turned her eyes as she took notice as man dressed in the formal military blues of the Alliance Navy took a seat to her right and turned to face her. His hair was deep chestnut brown, his complexion clear with a healthy tan. But his eyes were different...
Irises rich in copper color, his pupils seemed to contain a light violet hue to them.
Cassandra gave a slight shiver. I know eye enhancements are common place but I will never understand why people do them. To try to emulate Aliens perhaps...
The man gave her a slight smile.
"Colonel Zanks." She said as she turned to face forward. The Bartender wordlessly came by and refilled her glass. "Of what do I owe this pleasant visit?"
"Double Jack straight." The man said to the bartender, and then he turned his attention back to Cassandra. "Think of it as a social visit. I was in the Tribunal today. You have made...an interesting case..."
The bartender brought the Colonel his drink which the man downed with ease.
Cassandra took in a sharp breath. "I only wish I had been given a chance to bolster my statement..."
"And perhaps take some of the heat off the Alliance." Colonel Zanks finished. "Barkeep, another."
Cassandra slid her eyes cautiously towards the man. "What happens to the Alliance after this is none of my concern. I'd even recommend both Admiral Hackett and Anderson be brought up on charges for their involvement with the N7 program alone is if they both weren't already dead."
Zanks let out a chuckle. "Still chasing ghosts I see. Here I thought you hated Captain Shepard just for being an Asari lover, not that I blame her. They are a very fuckable race."
Cassandra scowled at the man taste of words. "I don't make it a habit to judge a person on their sexual preferences, or lack there of. But don't mistake me Colonel; I have nothing but the highest regard for Commander Shepard's memory. It is too bad she has been remembered the way she has been rather then as the person, the human being she was."
"Yet your court room antics say otherwise." Zanks scoffed as he downed a second drink just as strong as the first. He rapped his glass on the countertop. "Another, barkeep."
Cassandra snorted indignantly at Zanks. "So you think. I am merely shedding the light on the truth no one has ever heard about, or rather, wants to face. She was never a saint, nor a prodigy. She was simply a product of events. Yet she did many astounding things before she died, and a few that were unfortunately hidden by bureaucracy and politics." Cassandra said as she finished her wine setting the glass down and gliding it away from her. "Tomorrow I will show that the thing which is responsible for Earth, for the Citadel, and so much more destruction isn't possibly Shepard. The rest of the weak galaxy may try to cling to their image of Shepard but it's a wolf in sheep's clothing, and one that will drag them to their doom if they allow it. But it is a wolf I intend to kill, and then maybe the woman will rest in peace."
Mocking hands answered her. Their clapping as empty as her glass. "I appreciate your ardor, Prosecutor, I really do." Zanks responded mirthfully as he downed another drink. "But I also feel that I should remind you that you have an agreement to uphold. This trial is not going to be your little grandstand for your opinion. It should be used as was intended. Otherwise your display will not be looked on with much kindness or generosity."
"If Parliament and the Council don't like the skeletons I'm digging up, they should never have created them in the first place." She set her hands on the bar stand gripping it. "They should never have made a deal with that thing."
Zanks reached over with his left hand and laid it on her right. It was cold and clammy like a corpse. The touch made Cassandra's skin crawl.
"Sounds like you have a lot of pent up emotions and energy. I take it you lost someone dear in the war? Perhaps I can help ease the pain..." Zanks said as he pulled closer.
I lost my entire family in Denver to the Reapers.
She remembered cradling her dead brother in her arms. Or at least what had been left of her brother.
His beautiful face had been deformed by circuitry. His Raven hair was gone. His chocolate eyes a hollow blue.
But he had still my brother.
Even as he had ran at her with a murderous rage of alien origin. Even as a Widow round burst through his chest slamming him forward. Even as she held him as he died a second time; he had still been her brother.
She had been dragged away by a Turian and a Krogan and thrown into a shuttle, screaming.
I remembered what Earth looked like as the Sun engulfed it. As the seas boiled away, as the skies were blown in to space, and as the Sahara dessert was turned to glass and then dust again. I remember there being nothing left, and all we did was run...
He had still been her brother no matter what the Reapers had done to him.
"No. No one important." She responded mechanically as she laid her left hand on top of Zank's. "As for your offer though, I appreciate it." She said sweetly. Then she gripped his thumb in her left hand and pulled. She smiled as she felt it dislocate. "But it is not needed."
Colonel Zanks jerked his hand away and roared standing. He looked down at her with rage, not for his wounded hand, but by her utter and total dismissal of him.
For a moment Cassandra thought the man would strike at her as he stood trembling with anger. But Zanks contained himself as he 'politely' popped his thumb back in to its socket.
"Well then..." He responded gruffly. "I'll bid you a good night Prosecutor Jagdhund. Just...keep in mind what I said." He then turned and stormed out of the lounge leaving Cassandra alone with the softly playing music, the lone bartender and the warm idyllic surroundings.
It was just how she liked it.
[][][][][]
Aria looked out into the moon lit horizon as the mists of night started to slowly encroach forward towards the land like hungry fingers. She had changed from her 'business' ensemble to something a little more...casual, and comfortable. It was a willowy high necked, but sleeveless dress of fine linen and silk. It held the colors of light emerald and amethyst. In the past it had been rare for her to dress so...feminine. Aria still preferred the ease and the brute power that more masculine clothes tended to lend. But that had been before she had become a 'respectable' business person. She took a heady drink of the liquor in her hand. Her face souring as the liquid failed to dispatch the knot that had tightened around her chest like a noose. Her eyes drifted down to the cityscape below her hotel suite's windows. The riot was in full swing again and this time was much, much worse.
Things have become more...complicated than I realized... She mused as she took another sip of the amber drink.
"Shepard is guilty!" A Volus rang. The grating raspy voice interrupted her own introspective thought and her eyes shot in the direction in which the voice came. "If Shepard is a Reaper, I say burn the bitch."
Goran Dorn held the same stature description as any other Volus. Yet, unlike the majority of his people who had preferred to continue to be a client people of the Turian Hierarchy; he had led several clans to establish a free Volus Republic in the Terminus systems. As such, Dorn was on the Confederated Terminus Systems board of Directors. An economic genius; Dorn had designed the CTS economy to mimic that of the Council, yet was far less regulated and more fluid making the economy much more dynamic. The Council's was more stable, but the CTS could control their economy much easier.
Aria also noted that he enjoyed being a windbag, voicing his opinion whether or not it was warranted. It was a person quark she had decided she would deal with. It did not mean that he could no be...manipulated.
"And what if she is not a Reaper Dorn? Is she still guilty?" A more cautious voice asked.
Eako Thome. An obsidian colored Salarian with red slithering markings on his body not unlike that of a snake formed the final piece of the triad of the CTS board of directors.
For a Salarian, Thome was exceedingly cautious. Which made him far more dangerous, as both a foe and an ally to Aria. At 34 years of age, he was nearly at the end of his life, but by the time he was 16 Thome had amassed a production empire. He had started out as a resources baron, and had been one of Aria's regulars when it came to the resource trade on Omega. When the Reapers struck, he had turned his raw resources into factories and shipyards churning out weapons, vehicles, and starships by the kiloton for the CTS military, and for the Galactic Fleet that Shepard had concocted. Yet he was always careful. No one really knew how many factories or shipyards were at his disposal, or how and where he received his raw resources. Not even Aria. Yet she was content with that, because she knew Thome, like Dorn needed her far more then she needed them.
Aria didn't have the economic prowess or the resource base, but she held things far more powerful. Reputation, goodwill, military power, and diplomatic tact. It was those things that set her apart from her 'colleagues'.
"I still say she is guilty. Look at how many credits are being wasted by the minute on this absurd trial! All over one Human!" Dorn spat.
"Your always trying to play both sides of the game aren't you Dorn. You never like to have to make a choice." Aria said silkily as she walked up to the dwarven Volus. "But may I remind you that we haven't heard the full story yet." Her eyes narrowed. "And are you really willing to bet all your holdings on your statement? Are you willing to bank it all on your choice? If you are, I'll be happy to take that bet."
Dorns's face was unreadable, but his mood was telling as he began to fidget with his hands and shrank away.
Aria turned to face Thome and her expression softened, slightly. "The prosecution still has to back up their claim. If they don't; it is a mistrial."
"So you support Shepard." Thome said slyly.
Aria took a few paces away, and responded harshly. "Don't pretend to, or even think to pretend, that you know where my support lies. I don't have the remind you that the rebuilding effort hinges on this trial." She glowered as she looked outside at the raging infernos. "What I do want is the peace that existed momentarily after the war. When everyone seemed to be moving towards similar goals. It was much more lucrative then. Now all we have are divisions, factions; Isolationists screaming from every corner of the galaxy. If they had their say, they would want all the Mass Relays shut down and each Species to close their boarders."
"Do I hear the Pirate Queen of Omega turning in to a bleeding heart?" Dorn goaded.
Aria turned to face him with a look that caused the Volus to jump slightly back. "It's all about money Goran. It always has been. Don't forget that."
Thome gave an amused smirk as the Volus shrank away.
Anto, Aria's Batarian body guard quietly entered the suite and walked up to his mistress. Dorn and Thome stood by as he quietly whispered in to Aria's attentive ear. It became apparent that the three of them were no longer alone. Aria nodded to her body guard who quickly and quietly retreated from sight.
"Mr. Thome, Mr. Dorn, I appreciate our exchanges, as always, but now has come the time for you to leave."
The two looked behind them and saw Aria's Blue Suns favorites. Zaeed Massani, and Jack. Without a question or further word the other directors left the suite leaving Aria and her Blue Suns.
She turned and took a seat on the long comfortable sofa in the living room areas, and both Zaeed and Jack did their routine thing. Zaeed for the finest liquor. Jack for a plate full of food. They never asked her, she never offered it to them. It was just a simple mutual understanding.
Aria refilled her glass then took another drink rolling the day's events through her mind. She couldn't deny the presence that had made it self known in the room. Its will seemed to direct the events of the day like the wind to the sails of an ancient ship.
If Shepard is truly a Reaper then she could have been manipulating everything through indoctrination... The very thought of which caused her to shiver. But she pushed it aside. No...No that doesn't align with the events of the trial at all...
Aria had heard of plenty of horror life stories over the centuries of life. Mostly from people looking to make a fast buck. But Shepard's life story was unnervingly...different. It was the kind that either completely broke a person, or galvanized them in to...greatness.
Perhaps both... She mused as she took another sip of her drink. She wanted to change the subject from Shepard as soon as she could.
"What does the situation look like?" She asked to Zaeed. She could tell he was tiring from the day but he still held a fire in his eyes.
"A bloody mess. There is no way of containing this. You have people who support Shepard on one side and those that don't on the other. Everyone else, namely us, is caught in the damn middle. The game plan has changed to protect key sites around the Capitol like the Council Spire, Williams Hall, C-Sec, and the Tribunal." Zaeed flatly stated.
"What iss making it worse are the freaks coming out of the fucking woodwork." Jack stoked. "I've seen more then one civi dressed in a husk getup since the trial ended for the day. We can expect that people are going to get shot. I say serves um right though. Fucking idiots."
Aria grimaced. She knew that police force shooting would make for bad press. It wouldn't matter who did the shooting, Blue Suns, Eclipse or C-Sec. But given the fact that people were stupid enough to be 'playing' in costumes that looked like the all too familiar undead, and given the fact that more then one policing soldier had seen the real things in action meant that an incident was unavoidable...
The choices people make. Aria thought as she began to think of a salve to send out after tomorrow's morning news reports.
"But what's eating me is Eclipse and C-Sec." Jack shifted forward in her chair leaning on her knees. "They seemed to be working together, and sharing information. Information we're not getting. Eclipse was called in hours ago to shore up C-Sec. A lot of people are trying to get in. My guess is to get to Shepard."
"So C-Sec is trying to cut us out." Aria offered.
"Seems that way." Jack agreed.
"Their problem, not ours. They still need us to even come remotely close to handling this cosmic disaster." Aria said evenly.
Zaeed sat back still enjoying the scotch he had poured for himself. His eye roving over Aria as he held a cocky grin to his lips.
Aria returned his glance with a rebuking sneer. "What."
"So what's eating you?" Zaeed said, his grin widened a little.
"Don't fuck with me Massani. I'm not in the mood." Aria warned as she leaned deeper in to the couch, and turned her eyes away. She didn't want to deal with the old man.
The old Mercenary laughed as he saw her react. "You never are." He jeered jokingly as he settled back and enjoyed his drink. Jack was tearing through her plate of food with wild abandon, seemingly oblivious to the world around her.
Aria continued to look ahead and politely drink her wine and let her mind drift back to the situation at had that continued to plague her. She quietly observed her two companions as they relaxed in front of her. Aria knew that the fighting in the streets was still intense, and would continue to be but as the same time she knew that what was currently happening in the Capitol was nothing compared to what Zaeed and Jack had faced during the Six Year War and even before that.
But what she found so interesting and unnerving was how calm they both seemed. Zaeed enjoying his scotch and Jack gorging herself on food. Neither them seemed to care what had happened in the Tribunal. The three of them sat in collective quiet, but as Zaeed finished the last of his glass, and Jack the last of her plate it was telling that the break was up and it was time to get back in to the fray of the night.
"So tell me Zaeed. How is our pet cop doing?" Aria asked.
Zaeed looked at her quizzically for a moment then an impish smile rolled over his face. "He's like a damn half starved varren. Won't stop digging through Sohmon's data cache except to throw out the odd trouble maker that likes to try to invade our little 'Control Center'." Zaeed chuckled.
"He doesn't seemed worked up over Shepard?" Aria probed.
"Is he pissed over the trial? Pissed isn't even where I would begin with that Turian. I think if he could he would walk in to that Tribunal tomorrow and put a bullet in each Council member's head, and especially the Prosecutor's. Then he would personally throw that son of a bitch Sohmon off one of the landing pads." Zaeed replied. "Why do you ask?"
"The Prosecution ended with a hell of a cliff hanger. I want to know if it's true." Aria said simply.
"First off, fuck that little Alliance bitch. She can go fuck vacuum for all I give a shit. Second Cerberus worked on Shepard. Third why do you give a shit? If Shepard is a Reaper, that adds up to nothing. Do you remember that little song the boys used to sing during war?" Jack asked giving Aria a salacious smile in turn.
Arian grimaced at her. "Don't you utter one word of it." Aria warned as she settled more comfortably in to the sofa. "Well it is nice to know he will still get the job done. Happy hunting to you both and as always, keep me informed."
"Roger that." Zaeed said and both he and Jack left Aria to herself.
As the door closed Aria pondered the day's events, and what would happen tomorrow. She could tell that to Zaeed, Jack and Vakarian, the idea of Shepard being a Reaper wasn't a concern in the least. And if it wasn't a concern for them, why should it be one for her?
"Fuck order and stability." She said as a sly grin slithered across her mouth. "Fuck it all."