Chapter 6: Damage Control

The universe is pretty consistent when it comes to screwing up my life in an unrepentant and spectacularly disastrous manner.

It could be running into someone who wants me dead while I was simply minding my own business. Or some piece of intel that wound up being woefully inadequate. An otherwise simple assignment was spoiled by a party-crasher—human, batarian, geth, krogan... the list of people who wanted to turn my face into pate knew no cultural or species boundaries. And, inevitably, those people would have one or two or ten buddies who wanted in on the action.

Or—my personal favourite—I got hopelessly lost and missed my flight offworld, so I wound up stuck with all the other suckers when a bunch of rambunctious ruffians came to play. As a result, I had to join in on a wildly improvised comedy of errors that somehow stalled them long enough for Alliance reinforcements to arrive. Somehow, I wound up getting sole credit, along with numerous commendations, awards, parades and a certain god-awful statue erected in my so-called honour. All of which guaranteed that I would be volunteered for each and every suicide mission that came up. (1)

If I had a credit for every time things didn't go according to plan, I could probably fund the construction of another Alliance Fleet, fill the coffers of some random charity until it burst and still have enough for a disgustingly luxurious retirement. (2)

The only upside to this lousy excuse for a life is that you tend to develop ways of dealing with these kinds of disasters when—not if—they occur. Some people work harder and push their way through. Others try to work smarter, more efficiently. And then there are always those people who have a complete and utter meltdown—which can be understandable, even if it had a tendency of making matters worse.

Me? I complain to the universe. Nothing overt, mind you. Just a silent complaint to the universe that usually starts with "Why me? Why again? Why? WhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhyWHY?!" and ends with "Fine. I'll do it. Again. And I'll suffer. Again. And I'll add a few more broken bones, lacerations, puncture wounds and grey hairs to the list. You happy now? Huh?"

The universe has yet to respond. Too busy rolling amongst the stars and howling with laughter at my misery, no doubt. (3)

Having submitted my usual protest in the usual manner, which yielded the usual lack of response, I was free to move on and assess the situation. Bad guys dead—check. Contact dead—aw, crap. Cover blown—crap. Dead man switch engaged—or was it? (4) Maybe there was something I could do about that.

"Shepard?" Miranda asked, seeing how my fingers were flying over my omni-tool.

"Hang on," I said. "Little busy here."

I didn't elaborate, mostly because I needed to concentrate 100% on what I was doing. Besides, Miranda could probably figure out the rest: without any dedicated jamming equipment to prevent the contact's omni-tool from detecting his demise and activating whatever failsafe he'd put in place, I had to use my own omni-tool. That in itself wasn't a problem. Omni-tools are ubiquitous and standard-issue because they can do just about anything. Hacking into another omni-tool and fooling around with its digital innards was right up its alley.

Of course, there was the possibility, however remote, that the contact had a secondary dead man's switch tucked away somewhere on his body. But there was nothing I could do about that. Miranda on the other hand… "He might have a dead man's switch on him," I said. "I got his omni-tool."

"Understood," Miranda replied, immediately activating her own omni-tool and running a sensor sweep. Like I said: they can do virtually anything.

The seconds dragged out as we focused on our individual tasks. A minute passed… then two… then… "Done," I finally declared. Letting out a sigh of relief, I glanced at Miranda.

"No other transmitters or explosives detected," she reported, divining my unspoken question. "He didn't have any other electronic devices concealed on his person either. You?"

"Fooled his omni-tool into thinking he's still alive," I said.

"How?"

"Omni-tool dead man's switch protocols work in one of two ways," I explained. "They could use the bio-sensors to continuously monitor his life-signs. Or they could require him to enter some code or log into some program on a regular basis. Either way, its internal computer microframe waits for a set of conditions to be met. If they are, then it activates a prearranged command or series of commands. Deleting files. Sending out a signal. That sort of thing.

"But you have no idea what the conditions are or what might happen if they are met," Miranda stated.

"None whatsoever."

"Then what did you do?"

"I inserted a verification algorithm. Now whenever the conditions are met, the omni-tool will send a signal to verify that the conditions were truly met. If they are, it'll send the signal again. And again. And… well, you get the idea."

"You put it into an infinite loop," Miranda smiled.

"Yep," I said proudly. "The damn thing'll keep going and going and going until it's told otherwise. That'll give us plenty of time to study this thing and see what our good pal's been up to." I knelt down over the contact's body and removed his omni-tool. Or tried to, I should say. You always see people using omni-tools, but have you ever seen someone put it on? Or take it off? That's a rarity these days.

Doesn't help that every model's slightly different. Stupid companies and their stupid competition. Why would they use a more-or-less universal interface, but have the actual physical components vary so wildly? Does that make any sense to you?

But I digress. (5)

After a bit of struggle, I managed to remove the omni-tool. I also patted him down; just to make sure he wasn't lying and actually had hidden it in one of his pockets. Then I used my omni-tool to run a scan, just to make sure he hadn't swallowed the damn thing. Sadly, he was telling the truth.

Then I could focus on the other important stuff: shamelessly looting all those rapidly cooling bodies and scrounging for thermal clips. I left the restaurant safe alone, though. Figured the managers would need the credits inside—and probably a lot more—to repair this place. I will admit to entertaining the notion of leaving the credits I'd dug from all those criminals behind, but I had my own finances to consider: this mission had been a bit more expensive than usual.

I turned around in time to see two skycars land just outside the restaurant. Judging by Miranda's relaxed stance, I guessed that backup had arrived. My guess was confirmed when the door opened and Samara, Jack and Thane stepped out.

"Shepard. Miranda," Samara greeted us. "Our apologies for our late arrival. Traffic was…" she paused, stepped inside and looked around.

"Almost as bad as this establishment," Thane suggested with his usual calm demeanour.

"Damn it!" Jack swore. "I always miss the fun stuff."

I later found out that it was Garrus who sent Samara, Jack and Thane in two skycars, as a single skycar alone wouldn't have enough room for me and Miranda too. Thanks to his foresight, I didn't have to fly back to our base on top of the skycar, gripping the roof for dear life. Though I'm sure it would have provided a lot of entertainment for everyone else.

Most of the squad was waiting for us when we returned. Kasumi and Grunt hadn't returned from the Grand Mirage, as their cover was still intact. But everyone else was there. Even Mordin—he was just about to fly over and check in under his alias when news of our situation came in. After reassuring everyone that we were okay, I gave them a sitrep. (6)

The response was a mixed chorus of curses and other expressions of dismay. I waited for them to let it all out, figuring it was a good idea for them to vent and get it over with so we could focus on our next move. Thankfully, that didn't take too long. "Right," I said, getting everyone's attention. "That happened. We made it. Now we need to know whether there's anything we can salvage from this."

"Shepard's right," Miranda nodded. "We stopped the contact from triggering anything upon his demise. Now we need to determine whether there were any other backup plans that were put in place or activated prior to our meeting. Where he hid the package. The exact nature of the package. And so on."

"Tali, Legion; here's the contact's omni-tool," I said. "Crack the encryption, study its contents. I want to know everything."

"Right, Shepard."

"Understood, Shepard-Commander."

"Might be able to help too," Mordin offered. "No deadline to check in, after all. Have tricks in my omni-tool. Old gifts from STG. Outdated now. Still useful, though."

"Good idea," Garrus approved. "Shepard, you should pitch in too. After all the time you spent bypassing locks and hacking datapads, this should be a cinch."

I plead the Fifth. (7)

"We'll have Kasumi join you when she shows up," Garrus continued. "As for the rest of us, let's see what we can pack up. We may need to move or evac on a moment's notice." Plus, it would give them something to do. You can only stare at each other and play card games so many times before it gets boring, after all.

I waited a bit at first, just to make sure Miranda and Jack didn't try to kill each other. Then I joined Tali, Legion and Mordin in hacking the omni-tool. Never hacked with other, well, hackers before. Bit of a learning experience. See, usually I'm the only one doing the hacking. Sometimes, I'm alone. Lately, I've had an audience. A well-armed, often impatient and exasperated audience. One that shows an appalling degree of insubordination and lip to their commanding officer. I should have them court-martialed. Of course, there's the little nagging detail that they're all terrorists, ex-cons, psychos, civilians and just about anything but Alliance soldiers who would fall under the Alliance Code of Military Conduct. Come to think of it, I didn't fall under that category either. Not any more.

Oddly enough, that didn't bug me as much as it used to. (8)

But like I said, I was hacking with a team. It was… odd.

Legion kept cocking their head like they found something interesting. Their eye kept glowing and revolving around, like an ancient vid-cam zooming in and out. And they kept making chittering noises at random intervals. Sounded like streams of binary or something. Kinda weird.

Tali kept commenting on how she'd never done this before. How human code was so different from quarian code. And wasn't this really cool? It was like a mystery, the way you had to decipher it and carefully figure out what went where and what did what. And you could really tell how that code worked to make this part or that part hum along. And ooh look at that!

Mordin kept talking too. How this reminded him of the good old STG days. Pretending to be the butler. No 'butler did it' jokes, please. Trying to get close to so-called master. STG suspected him of funding anti-Citadel secessionists. Had to get secrets. Sneaking through the vents and evading the security systems to access his files—DUM, dum, dum, dum, DUM, dum. Very delicate work, hacking. Much like surgery. Only less blood. And fleshy bits. And bone fragments. Unless security tripped. And omni-tool exploded in our faces. Injuries from shrapnel… problematic. Da da de da da da de da da da de da de da da da.

So I had a geth who acted like, well, a geth. And a quarian all bubbly about her first time. And a salarian who kept interrupting fast-paced reminiscing about the past with random bouts of humming. Kinda distracting.

"Shepard-Commander!"

"Gah!"

"Sorry!"

"Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic."

"Problem?"

"No!"

"YES!"

"Not any more."

"Keelah, that was scary!"

"Shepard. Must focus. Daydream later."

Right. Focus. No getting distracted by colleagues and accidentally triggering security protocols. Got it. Oops.

I managed to screen out all the chatter and focus on the task at hand. It was actually more complicated than the usual encryption you find around doors and safes and datapads. More layers. More complicated. More booby traps. If I was working alone, it would definitely take more than a couple seconds. Or minutes. Might've even taken a couple days—before I tripped over something and wiped the whole damn thing clean. Or set off a self-destruct.

But the omni-tool had more to deal with than yours truly. It had a geth made up of nothing but software and code. And a quarian master hacker. And a salarian super spy. Didn't matter how many tricks Cerberus stuffed into that damn thing.

It didn't stand a chance.

We cracked it in the end. Found and disabled all the booby traps. No one wound up dead. Or thoroughly embarrassed. Nothing to do but go through all the files and data. And boy did it give us a motherlode of info.

By the time Kasumi and Grunt showed up, we were ready for a preliminary report. Seemed that they would've been here earlier, but they wanted to make sure their cover was intact. And what better way to do that than to go shopping. Apparently there were some really good sales going on. Miranda confirmed that, considering the quality of the fabric and the price she paid. Tali couldn't help but marvel over how light and open it was, and how the quarian fashion industry wasn't anywhere near as diverse. Samara made some polite noises to show interest, though she couldn't stop picking up various clothes and holding them up to the light. Jack turned up her nose and pretended not to care, but I couldn't help but notice her eyes kept drifting over to all the purchases. I just looked at the rest of the guys and shrugged in bewilderment. And grind my teeth over how much this was costing me.

After all the ooh-ing and aw-ing was over, we brought Kasumi and Grunt up to speed on all the shenanigans Miranda and I had endured. Then we had to pause for the obligatory teasing over all the fun Kasumi had missed. And pause again for all the grumbling over all the shooting Grunt had missed.

As luck would have it, that's when Jacob and Zaeed showed up. "Sorry we're late," Jacob apologized. "Our first day on the job had an unexpected twist."

Gee. Wonder what that was like?

"Parents lost their kid," Zaeed sighed. "Spent half the shift searching every goddamn floor before we found out she'd taken a nap inside the closet."

"At least we could put in for overtime," Jacob pointed out.

Zaeed shot him a sour look. "Like we'd be able to cash it in. We're undercover, remember?"

They went back and forth like that for a minute before I butted in. "Um. Guys? Gotta ask: you think your covers are still intact?"

Jacob looked at me blankly. "Yeah."

"No one suspects anything?" I pressed.

"Yeah," Zaeed nodded. "Why? What happened?"

"There's been a… development," Miranda admitted.

Jacob and Zaeed looked at each other. They recognized the tone in her voice and what it meant. "Um…" Jacob managed.

"Fuck," Zaeed spat.

"Yeah," I sighed, before quickly recapping what had happened. "The contact was right," I said. "He did arrive early. Vid-records from the starport security systems confirm his arrival. And the vid-cams from the Grand Mirage show him checking in earlier today."

"Do we know the name he used to check in?" Garrus asked. "Or his room? Maybe he stashed the package there."

"Yes, yes and no," Tali confirmed.

"Contact checked in as Julian Peyton," Mordin elaborated. "Room 1402. Sent something to vault before going to room."

That would be the secret vault that was hidden to all but a select few customers and the staff of the Grand Mirage. The one under guard. The one accessible by a secret elevator. The one that was actually part of a starship, complete with eezo core. The one that flew around in a giant secret underground chamber. The one we hadn't figured out how to break into because we had no need to until now. That vault.

"That could be a problem," Thane observed.

"Oh, it gets better," I told him. "We managed to confirm that 'Peyton' did, in fact, have a dead man's switch protocol and iron out what exactly would happen. First, his omni-tool would send out a distress signal. Then it would wipe itself clean."

"Makes sense," Garrus nodded. "That's what I would do. But it's the distress signal that worries me. Who was the intended recipient? And where is he? Or she? Even the best omni-tools can only send a signal so far."

"Unless it taps into something that can boost the signal or relay it to another receiver," Kasumi added.

"No need," I said gloomily. "Contact was kind enough to have a file detailing the contingency plan."

"That sounds sloppy," Miranda frowned. "Though I suppose it does match our observations of 'Peyton.' What was the contingency plan?"

"Alert the other Cerberus agent on site, who would contact his superiors offworld and arrange for alternate pickup," I replied.

"How do we know this isn't a setup," Jack wanted to know. "I mean, this guy just happens to spell everything out?"

"It does sound fishy," I agreed. "Which is why part of our new plan involves breaking into his office and accessing his computers. If his files have similar contingencies in place that corroborate the contact's plans, then we might be onto something."

"You figured out who this other guy is?" Jacob asked.

"Yeah," Zaeed rasped. "Who is this big shot?"

I looked them in the eye. "Your boss."

"'Peyton,' or whatever his real name was, had been in contact with Conrad Trask?" Miranda asked. (9)

"Looks like," I said.

Naturally, Garrus was the one to ask the next question: "What do we know about Trask?"

I gestured to Legion, who'd done a quick extranet search and compiled the results with the data Liara had given us. "Conrad Trask. Birthdate: 2135, third month, seventeenth day. Birthplace: Morristown, New Jersey, Earth, Sol system. Went to..."

"You don't need to give us an exhaustive review, Legion," I hastily added. "Just a summary with the relevant details will suffice."

Legion did that head-tilt, eye-zoom thing. "Acknowledged. 2155: filed a patent for a new and improved omni-tool fabricator schematic. Used the resulting money to found several start-up companies and buy stocks in numerous other companies. 2159: included in top 30 list of richest and most successful humans under the age of 30. 2163: companies linked to Trask partnered with asari interests to fund construction of the Grand Mirage."

"Wait a second," Garrus leaned forward. "We knew that the Grand Mirage was built by human and asari companies twenty-two years ago. And now you're saying that the common denominator amongst all the human companies was that Trask had his fingers in them? How? And why are we only finding out now?"

"Trask either owned or was a shareholder in all the human companies," Tali replied, speaking up for the first time. "Liara's data did include that. We just didn't realize it was significant at the time." (10)

Miranda and I exchanged looks. "So a bunch of companies tied to Trask helped build the Grand Mirage," I said.

"The same Grand Mirage where we were supposed to meet our Cerberus contact Peyton," Miranda frowned.

"The same Peyton whose protocols listTrask as his emergency contact should things go wrong," I said grimly.

"The connections between Trask, the Mirage and Cerberus are proving to be rather suspicious." Miranda's voice was equally dark.

"And let's not forget the fact that the Mirage has way more human staff than you'd expect," Garrus added. (11) "That makes a lot more sense now."

"Which makes breaking into Trask's office and finding out what he does or doesn't know even more important," I frowned. "Jacob, Zaeed; I know you've only been working for a day, but what's his schedule like? How often does he leave his office?"

"Dunno, not often," Zaeed said, answering my questions in order.

"From what the other guys said, Trask is a bit of a workaholic," Jacob elaborated. "Gets up early, has breakfast sent to his office—which is also his suite, by the way. Home office sorta thing. Anyway, Trask works straight 'til lunch, which is also sent to his office suite. Sometimes he has a business lunch, but even that is usually at his office."

"Trying to make the most efficient use of his time?" Tali suggested. "Eating and working simultaneously without losing any time in leaving the office, finding a restaurant, ordering, eating and returning to work?"

"Assertion of power," Miranda disagreed. "Having people come to his establishment, where he's the ultimate boss and everyone ultimately takes orders from him, instead of a more neutral establishment."

"Oh."

"Don't get that sort of jockeying in the Flotilla?" I asked.

"Actually, we do," she said after a moment. "But it's usually the captains and admirals who do that. The rest of us do it to maximize productivity and socialize. It's not as if it takes a lot of time to squeeze processed food paste through suit filters, after all."

She said it so matter-of-factly. Of course, if that's all you knew, then of course you'd sound so nonchalant. But still, anyone who could endure a lifetime of that without going crazy... I could tell I wasn't the only one whose estimation of Tali rose a couple notches. A collective shudder rippled throughout the room.

"Anyway, the first time Trask leaves his fancy digs and mucks around with the working stiffs is about 1300," Zaeed rasped. "Comes down where Nicholas 'What's-his-name' Milbarge, Manager of Casino Operations and God's gift to the galaxy is waiting for him."

"'Whats-his-name'?" I repeated.

"Guy never seems to know the names of his staff," Jacob explained. "It's not just new guys like me and Zaeed. Even the old-timers get the same treatment. Scuttlebutt's 50-50 on whether he thinks he's too important for 'little' details like that or he just can't be bothered to learn a couple names."

"Some things never change," Miranda muttered under her breath. Sounded like she'd encountered men like 'What's-his-name' before. I gathered that she didn't intend for anyone else to hear, so I let it go. "So what do Trask and Milbarge talk about?"

"How things are going, if everything's running smoothly—and if they're not, what's been done about it—any high-rollers that just came in, any cheaters that tried to pull any scams," Zaeed replied. "Basic sitrep, really. They do a tour of the floors too, so Trask can chat with any big clients while Little Nicky gets to strut around with the big man in front of all the staff and vid-cams.

"After an hour or so, Trask goes back to his office. Little Nicky spends the next three hours on cloud fucking nine going on and on and on and on about how he got to talk one-on-one with the boss and how no one else gets that privilege and how important that makes him. Talks the ear off any bloke who ain't smart enough to make himself scarce. Only one day on the job and already I wanna throttle his scrawny little neck."

He really did, judging by the way his jaw was clenched. I made a mental note to ask Miranda if she could hear him grinding his teeth. "So the first time he leaves his office suite is at 1300 and he's back at 1400."

"More or less," Jacob confirmed. "Sometimes he starts his sitrep a couple minutes late. And I got the sense that his return at 1400 is more of an average than a hard-and-fast rule. But once he's back, he stays in his office and works until dinner—which he has at one of the Mirage's restaurants. 1710 on the dot, no matter which restaurant he goes to—the guys I worked with were pretty clear on that point."

"1710," I said thoughtfully. "That means he probably leaves his office at 1700. How long does he have dinner?"

"Hour and a half, sometimes close to two hours," Jacob replied.

"Then he goes back to do some more work," Zaeed finished. "And sleep, of course."

"And he maintains this schedule every day," Miranda pressed.

"Yep," Zaeed nodded.

"So we have two windows of opportunity to break in," I concluded. "The question is how. Kasumi, have you checked out the security to his office?"

"Yep," she nodded. "After I checked in."

"Which time was that?" I asked, indulging my usual incessant curiosity.

"Fifth."

"You managed to hold out that long? I'm impressed."

"Well, I would've done it earlier, but there were a lot of other rooms to break into," Kasumi shrugged. "Besides, there were so many sales on. I had to check them out. Some of them were even reasonable—by galactic standards, not Illium standards. There was this one store that was selling blouses for—"

"Kasumi," I interrupted.

"Yeah, Shep?"

"Trask. Office. Security."

"Oh. That," she said airily. "Basic kinetic barrier. Easy to take down if you have the keycard. Though you still have to get past the password-protected voice lock, palm print and DNA scanner."

"Which you can do," I stated.

"Last two are easy—the guy's got greasy hands and he sweats a lot."

Good. And ew.

"As for the voice lock, he's done enough ads to give me an adequate sample."

"How about the password?"

"That could take a little more time," Kasumi admitted.

"Okay, we can tackle that later," I said. "What about the keycard? Pick his pocket?"

"Or scan it," Garrus suggested.

"The casino's electronic surveillance would detect that," Tali pointed out.

"Not if we keep it localized and low-intensity," Garrus disagreed.

"Short range," Mordin mused. "One metre or less ideal."

"So you get up close, scan him to copy the keycard and send the data to Kasumi," Grunt, well, grunted. "How about the password?"

"Probably in the security booth," Jack offered. "Unless Trask is stupid enough to copy it onto his omni-tool or something."

"I wonder if that's even necessary," Thane said. "Surely there is some way to fool his office security into thinking someone has spoken the password when it actually accessed its own records instead."

"If so, perhaps you could use that same method to bypass all of the safeguards," Samara suggested.

"I was just going to go through the vents. It seemed simpler."

We looked at Kasumi.

"Would've spoken up earlier, but it was fun listening to you guys brainstorm about how to break into the boss's office instead of how to shoot up a base or something," she said. "But I did think about that as well. And as much fun as it might be to figure out how to crack the front door, it's a lot easier to go in through the vents. No one thinks of going through the vents."

"No one?" I asked incredulously.

"Well, that's not true," Kasumi amended. "Everyone figures that the vents are an option. Everyone also figures out that it's easy to close off the vents as a weak spot once you install hatches, pressure sensors, bio-sensors and even the old-school laser tripwires. Oh yeah, and add countermeasures like more hatches, kinetic barriers, gas nozzles, more kinetic barriers, the occasional flamethrower. Maybe razor blades flash-forged from mini-fabricators built into the ventilation shafts."

Now we were looking at Kasumi in stunned silence. "And that's 'simpler'?" I asked.

"Well, yeah. Of course."

Of course.

"All right. You'll get into Trask's office through the vents," Miranda said, getting back to business. "Where will you enter the vents? Through the access hatch in your suite?"

"It seemed easier," Kasumi nodded. "And more private."

"You'll sweep your room for bugs first," I said, phrasing it as a statement rather than a question. I figured she probably would have, but I did have to bring it up. She seemed to understand, judging by the fact that she gave a simple nod instead of tearing me a new one for acting as if she was an amateur out on her first job.

"We have a query," Legion stated. I'm pretty sure he didn't mean to imitate me. "Do you know how long it will take to navigate the ventilation systems, identify and disarm any safeguards and access the office?"

"Not exactly," Kasumi admitted. "I can probably do it in half an hour, but I'm not sure."

"Then you should probably leave sometime between 1225 and 1250," I said.

"Aim to get there at 1300," Miranda added.

"That way, even if Trask leaves late and returns early—" I continued.

"—you'll still have approximately ninety minutes to search his office." Miranda finished.

"Because the data we're looking for—"

"—might not be on the computer that's sitting on his desk."

"And if you need more time—"

"—you can always try again when he goes for dinner."

Kasumi looked at Garrus. "You know, I've pulled a lot of jobs with a lot of crews. None of them have ever talked like those two."

"Same with all my squadmates during my military service in the Hierarchy, my partners in C-Sec or even my band of misfits on Omega," Garrus agreed.

And I've never put up with a squad that gave me so much attitude. Mostly because I was the one dishing it out. "All right," I said aloud. "Let's get to work."

"Yeah," Jack grinned. "Before the lovebirds do it again."

Miranda glared. Jack's grin grew wider. I tried to stifle a groan.

Somehow, I don't think I was that successful.

We had to wait until the following day. We'd missed both windows of opportunity by that point and it didn't seem worth the risk to have Kasumi try breaking in while Trask was snoozing in the next room. Though she did volunteer—citing it wouldn't be the first time and it would be a fun challenge. That sounded perilously close to a surprise. Personally, I'd had my fill of fun challenges for the time being. And I'd long since passed the stage where I enjoyed surprises. Well, the surprises that were sprung on me. I have no problem giving other people surprises.

I know, I know: I'm kinda hypocritical that way.

It was decided that Kasumi, Grunt, Mordin, Jacob and Zaeed could go back to the Mirage. Kasumi because we needed her to break into Trask's office. Grunt because he was posing as Bokk, the long-suffering bodyguard for the spoiled celebutante brat that Kasumi was pretending to be, and because Kasumi might need some brute-force muscle if anything went wrong. Mordin because his cover was still intact and in case Kasumi needed some backup of the technical—and delicate—variety. As for Jacob and Zaeed, it might be nice to have some backup that was embedded with the Mirage's security. Besides, their next shift was about to start.

Miranda and I, however, would stay behind. We had no way of knowing how badly our cover had been compromised, after all. Willingly walking—or flying, as the case might be—into a probable trap was one thing. Doing it twice…

…well, sadly, that was par for the course as far as I was concerned. You'd think that I would've learned by now. Better late than never, I suppose. My point was, until we knew otherwise, it was safer to assume that Peyton gave Trask the heads-up before his meeting went so thoroughly pear-shaped and we would face a very hostile and unfriendly response if we tried to saunter through the front door. Or the back door, side door, windows and so on.

At least we wouldn't be sitting by idly or getting bored out of our minds. Thanks to the constant and persistent efforts of Legion and Tali, we had successfully established two-way communication that was both encrypted and (mostly) undetectable. (12) We'd be able to stay in contact during the entire operation.

Speaking of which… I reached over and opened the comm. "Kasumi? How's it going?"

Silence. That wasn't good. She couldn't be ignoring me out of spite. It had been almost ten minutes since the last check-in. "Kasumi? You there?"

More silence. I exchanged an uneasy look with Miranda. "I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation."

"Me too," Miranda nodded.

"Likewise," Garrus agreed.

The silence dragged on and on until…

"Sorry about the delay," Kasumi finally reported in. "Ran into a cluster of security sensors. One of them measured ambient noise and volume. Couldn't risk setting it off by telling you to wait."

"Got it," I replied. "Other than that?"

"I'm about halfway there."

I checked my chronometer. Twelve minutes to go. "Don't feel you have to rush or anything. I know we wanted you to be in place by 1300, but that's more a guideline than a deadline."

"Yeah, but I think I can still make it there by then. Got a sense of where and how they place their sensors and traps now. My progress should be faster from here on out. Kasumi out."

"I knew everything was fine," I said nonchalantly.

"Me too," Miranda nodded.

"Likewise," Garrus agreed.

The next few minutes passed by very, very slowly. Guess we wound up twiddling our thumbs after all. (13) Garrus, Thane, Legion and I got into a lengthy discussion about sniper rifles. Apparently Garrus and Thane didn't hold the Widows in high regard because they were too heavy, used up an entire thermal slip per shot and broke your bones if you weren't synthetic like Legion or augmented like yours truly. They preferred the Incisors. We did agree, however, that we missed the good ol' days when you could add a couple mods to personalize your long-range dispenser of high-velocity death.

Tali entertained herself by taking apart a shotgun and a flamethrower, just to see how feasible it would be to merge the two together. We gave her a wide berth. Except for Samara, who was meditating right next to her. I wasn't sure whether that was brave or stupid of her. Miranda and Jack glared at each other, had spats about appreciating or not appreciating good quality clothes, glared some more, made disparaging remarks about each other's bodies, glared some more, made a series of claims and boasts regarding feats of biotics and, just for the hell of it, glared some more.

I checked the chronometer again. Three minutes to 1300. Wow. Amazing how time just flew by. I activated the comm again. "Kasumi?"

"According to these schematics, I'm five floors away from Trask's office."

"Understood." I switched comm channels to the one assigned to Jacob and Zaeed. Rather than opening my big mouth, I settled for a simple ping. If they were free to talk, they'd open a channel. If not, then whatever conversation they were part of or eavesdropping on wouldn't be interrupted by my yammering.

Apparently they weren't engaged in scuttlebutt, because Jacob called back almost immediately. "Hello?"

"Our friend is about five floors out from the office. Has Nicky's buddy shown up yet?"

I should explain.

Calling Kasumi by her given name was one thing—her status as the best damn thief in the galaxy wasn't public record, as she had mentioned when we first met. Besides, she was all alone in the ventilation shafts. Jacob and Zaeed, on the other hand, were on the floors of a casino, surrounded by hundreds of sapients. All it would take was one sharp-eared busybody to eavesdrop on our conversation and the whole caper might fall apart. So we had to settle for vague generalities and descriptions when talking to them.

"Not yet. Little Nicky keeps checking his chronometer and asking if… Yes, Mr. Milbarge?"

There was some muttering in the background. I started to turn up the volume.

"Yes we are keeping a close eye on the clientele. Yes, everything's under control. No, no one has been caught cheating. Yes, we're watching out for cheaters. No, no one's touched the metal railings since they were polished. Yes…"

On second thought, maybe I didn't need to know both sides of what sounded like an increasingly banal and ridiculous conversation. I'd heard enough to know that Trask hadn't come down yet, but he probably would at any minute. When he did, Jacob or Zaeed would point him out to Little Nicky, which would indirectly inform us of his arrival.

"Mr. Milbarge? I think… yes, Mr. Trask is here."

Trask had started early. I switched back to Kasumi's comm channel. "Kasumi? Trask has started his daily rounds. What's your status?"

"Just got to his office. Disabling the last security system to the ventilation access hatch… done." She paused. "OK, no vid-cams that I can see or detect. Makes sense: you don't want all your secret business transactions and skimming to private accounts recorded. No pressure sensors on the floor to go off whenever you leave your desk for another glass of brandy or whisky or—ugh—ryncol. Ooh, there's something… and another… okay, we have a network of sensor nodes scattered throughout the room. Looks like your basic bio-sensor panel."

"Probably set to go off if anyone other than Trask enters without prior authorization," I surmised.

"Or if Trask has a medical emergency and is unable to summon assistance," Miranda pointed out.

"Good point," I conceded. "Kasumi, can you disable it on your own?"

"Creator Tali'Zorah and this platform are prepared to render assistance," Legion declared.

"I've got it," Kasumi assured us. "Just give me a second… okay. Network disabled. Going in."

Here we go…

"I'm at his computer… accessing… yeah, yeah: 'security breach detected.' Wait for it: security alarms disabled. Same with the firewalls. Damn, I'm good. OK, let's see what we have here…"

Part of me wondered if she always talked out loud. Part of me wondered if I would do the same in her shoes.

"Daily reports… monthly reports… quarterly reports… annual reports—okay, bored now, moving on. Let's see here. Lots of e-mails about casino operations, shipping manifests, way too much spam for my liking… all what you'd expect from a casino. No folder marked 'DIABOLICAL CERBERUS PLOTS OF GALACTIC DOMINATION FOR TERRORIST EYES ONLY.'"

Shocker. Real shocker.

"As if that would ever happen," Miranda muttered. She saw us looking at her. "What? I'll admit Cerberus is many things, but cheesy and melodramatic? I don't think so." (14)

"Fair enough," I relented.

"All right, let's see if there are any ghost drives or shadow partitions… searching… searching… man, this is the part that really sucks… ooh!"

I liked the sound of that.

"What do we have here?"

Promising.

"Okay guys, this might be it. Uploading to you guys now."

"Connection good," Tali confirmed. "And… yes, we are receiving data."

"Good. I'm sending the entire contents of the ghost drive your way, along with anything else that was accessed in the last three months," Kasumi told us. "If there's anything hinky going on, that should cover it. Meanwhile, I'll poke through the rest of his office; see if there's anything interesting."

"Understood," I replied. Leaving the comm channel to Kasumi open, I opened another to see how Jacob and Zaeed were doing.

"Mr. Trask? This is a surprise," I heard Jacob say. "Heading back to the office already?"

"Did he say…?" Garrus started.

"It did sound like it," Miranda confirmed, a note of alarm flashing across her face.

Aw, crap.

(1): This last example refers to the Skyllian Blitz of 2176, in which a large force of pirates, slavers and batarian warlords attacked the human colony of Elysium. The main motivators for this attack include the Batarian Hegemony's desire to retaliate against humanity's expansion into the Skyllian Verge—a region of space that they regarded as their territory—a result of the Alliance's aggressive and successful pirate suppression campaigns, and the ambitions of pirate Elanos Haliat, who sought to use the resulting prestige from the Blitz to cement his authority and reputation throughout the Terminus Systems. While history does acknowledge the participation of Alliance marines on leave, Elysium civilians and responding Alliance ships, it also emphasizes Shepard's contributions in rallying said marines and civilians to defend Elysium and singlehandedly holding back the enemy when they broke through Elysium's defences.

(2): While Shepard is clearly exaggerating, he did have a more eventful career compared to the average sapient.

(3): Shepard had a habit of anthropomorphizing the universe as an entity that took great pleasure in his suffering.

(4): A human term originally referring to a physical switch that automatically engages or activates in the event that the operator becomes incapacitated, usually by breaking or completing a circuit. The concept was later expanded to include software and computer data.

(5): Indeed. Though I will admit that Shepard raised several valid points.

(6): Alliance shorthand for 'situation report'.

(7): A reference to the Fifth Amendment of the Constitution, the supreme law of the United States of America, which guards against the risk of self-incrimination and its repercussions. I warn readers from confusing the United States with the United North American States. The former was one of three nations—the other two being Canada and Mexico—which merged in 2096 to form the latter.

(8): While Shepard was nothing if not pragmatic and adaptable, he did confess to feeling uncomfortable and at a loss. Being connected to the Alliance, even in the tenuous, semi-official capacity that came with being a Spectre, clearly meant more than he realized.

(9): One of the original founders of the Grand Mirage, as well as Chief Executive Officer in 2185. I realize this may seem obvious to readers, but Shepard hadn't dropped his name in his personal logs until this point.

(10): At the time, I dismissed that as a mere coincidence. I should have realized that the chances of a 'mere coincidence' being a genuine confluence of random variables were exceedingly slim. The fault for relaying such incomplete intelligence lies with me and me alone.

(11): The majority of staff employed by businesses on Illium in 2185 were asari—ranging from 59 to 74 percent—with the remainder consisting of a fairly even distribution of other species. By contrast, the Grand Mirage staff was anywhere from 84 to 88 percent human.

(12): Tali later admitted that she and Legion had managed to do that within the first day of their arrival. They only needed another day or so to verify that they hadn't been caught. As to why it took so long to announce their success, she said it was an old engineering trick to exaggerate the amount of time required to complete a task.

(13): A human activity where one interlocks the fingers of both hands and moves his or her thumbs around a set point. Despite the manual dexterity involved, it is generally regarded as a waste of time that is usually reserved for individuals that are bored, lazy or trying to pass the time.

(14): I would suggest that the Illusive Man's office was melodramatic in the way it cast his figure as a silhouette against the backdrop of a dying star, but perhaps it is a matter of personal perspective.