REQUIEM
CHAPTER ELEVEN:
HELL HATH NO FURY LIKE A WOMAN'S SCORN
October 22, 2185
1409 hours.
Drydock, Level 7, Walker Station, Strabo System.
Agent Kai Leng.
Cold steps; calculating movements. Kai Leng, attack dog of Cerberus, the go-to man of the Illusive Man and possibly the loyalist assassin in Cerberus history, stalked through the halls of Walker Station with cold accuracy, his body swift, measured and calculated. His black armor shone in the light, his eye-implants giving him enhanced vision superior to that of a normal human, even giving him nocturnal vision.
His katana stayed attached to his back, sheathed but ready to be used when necessary. He carried no weapons, only his palm-cannon, which was only the second of his weapons, along with a shield generator that could form a biotic barrier around him. He wasn't a biotic, but that didn't mean he couldn't harness a similiar ability by channelling eezo; it just took more effort and couldn't be used whenever he wanted, needing recharge.
His lips were set grimly over his face, invoking no emotion, as emotion was for the weak-willed. He moved more like a machine than a human being, but he was strong, augmented to be the best, making him the ultimate soldier in his view. A sentinel for Cerberus, a guardian for humanity. He would bring swift destruction to the alien scum that called themselves civilized.
The mission was all that mattered, and he would complete it at all costs. A squad of commandos marched in twin columns behind him; carrying their toy weapons as they moved behind him. Weapons for the weak; but useful, and can stand up in a fight. They will be grudgingly useful, to a point. And they are disposable.
As he moved down the corridor, a door opened from the mess hall and a pair of scientists walked out, wearing Cerberus uniforms and holding hot cups of coffee in their hands. He examined them with precision only a machine could manage, analyzing them as non-threatening. His black, armoured gauntlet moved to his back, drawing his katana in a swift movement, the silver blade longer than his arm, with a sharpened tip that had never seen neglect, and looked as clean as if it was brand-new. It is part of my arm.
The handle flexed in his grip and he continued moving forward, increasing his pace. He spoke, his voice an annoyance, a tool to be utilized, but otherwise a nuisance. A voice is a distraction; useful only for negoitation, and diplomacy is for the weak. The Illusive Man spends too much time talking, while I kill. A gun does not need a voice, only something to kill. Because of this, Leng rarely talked, only ever responding curtly to orders or when giving orders, or when talking to the Illusive Man. Many assumed he was a 'mute.'
Better than to waste energy on a useless body component.
A tangle of black hair fell infront of his face as he moved and he blew it away, not decreasing his movement. The pair stopped, turning to Leng and smiling, holding up his hand, "Are you Agent Leng?" He was a tall man, brown of hair, weak of build, blue of eyes. His comrade was female, a little closer than she should have been. Relationship; love a sign of compromise, more weakness, a corruption. An error in evolution. Easily purged.
He didn't even speak, living up to his title as he brought up his katana high in the air, and before the man could even scream, Leng, expression cold, brought his weapon down in a swinging arc and in a split second, killed his target. The asian-crafted sword sliced through the man's neck and out the other side without any sign of being hampered, the reinforced steel slicing through bone like it was cheese.
The woman screamed, a cry of anguish, of weakness, and watched as the man's head rolled on the floor, dark blood coating the ground as his body crumbled to the ground. Leng turned to the woman and saw her crying in mass hysteria, turning to run...
...only for Kai Leng to be behind her in an instant, his katana digging deep into the small of her back, coming straight out the other end. A rupture of blood exploded from the woman's mouth, coating her lips and cutting off her sobbing with a sharp end. He twisted the blade, enjoying the sounds of pain coming from her as she went limp. A hint of a smile on his face, the man loving the pleasure of taking a life. It felt...euphoric. Addictive. Like a drug. His sadistic grin quickly dropped however. A gun does not enjoy death; only takes it.
He yanked the sword out and kicked the limp body to the ground, immediately marching over it and approaching the entrance to the mess hall, head snapping towards his troop, who looked at him wearily. He nodded to inside, "Move inside. Kill everyone. Leave no survivors. I will move to control center. Purge all data. Destroy space station. Leave no trace."
One man gulped, the scent of fear in his voice as he stepped forward and spoke, "Sir, what if the Alliance turns up before we finish and deploys marines? The Illusive Man said they had an entire flotilla heading here."
Fear. A weakness. Unacceptable. "Then your comrades will get rid of them," he then raised his palm, charged his cannon and fired, the shot splitting apart on impact like a shotgun shell. The man's face exploded in a firework of gore, brain detonating, eyes rupturing and chunks of meat fragments in all directions. The men behind him let out cries of alarm as bits of meat and blood struck them, and the man's headless form crumbled to the ground, lifeless. Leng smiled, and quickly lost it, lowering his palm.
Purged.
The commandos looked between him and the decapitated cadaver, red blood and gore still smeared across their armor, meaty fragments sticking to them like glue. They continued to look horrified before they remembered who they worked for, looked up and straightened, trying to wipe emotion from their faces while assuming semi-disciplined stances.
He examined them, and judged their stances acceptable. They are weak; undisciplined, emotional idiots; but they learn quickly. Not my problem. I usually work alone anyway. That was ultimately why he was superior to Shepard, why he was better than him. He works with a squad of aliens, and his best friends are a vagrant and a dino. He relies too much on his morals and allies; which is why he can't save humanity. Only I understand how useless he is; the Illusive Man is too reliant on him. Give me a blade, and I will gladly show who's the better man to protect humanity. And then I'll chop the head off his xeno slut and use it as a mantle.
With a final nod, he motioned to the door to the mess hall, "Get to it."
He watched, with only half-interest, as they moved away, moving into the room. Leng watched them move, and with the same disinterest as he did watching them, he spun around to march down the hall, moving with the same, mechanic purpose he had been for the rest of the time. He felt himself stiffen as his armor seemed to choke him, his form feeling like a machine. I am a machine; everything except my flesh and species. Another tangle of black hair fell in his face and he tucked it away, the assassin sheathing his katana, enjoying the sight of red blood dripping from the blade and coating its pure steel.
With his weapon sheathed, he rushed forward, moving with inhuman speed that only a augmented soldier could achieve. He made sure to charge his palm cannon, making sure it was charged and ready when he needed it. He saw a door ahead of him, locked of course, but that wouldn't stop him. His synthetically enhanced eye implants scanned through the wall, finding the door's power source and raising his palm, discharging a burst of bright, white energy at it.
The section of wall caved in, the circuitry blasting apart from the impact of his powerful weapon. The door haptic interface vanished and the door shot open, perfectly timed, as he rushed through the arch and kept running, seeing an elevator up ahead. A delay. I shall bypass it. The mission is everything.
Again his palm rose, fired, and the door opened, allowing him to rush into the elevator. He looked up his eyes, scanning to find a vent before he unsheathed his katana, wedging his sword inbetween the vent's creases and yanking it loose, the blade not even wobbling as the vent came loose and clattered to the ground, Leng gathering all his strengths and leaping out of it, landing ontop, the silent elevator shaft greeting him. He heard gunfire. He smiled.
Looking up, he made sure his sticky undergloves were active before he once again summoned his lower body strength, propelling himself upwards until he hit the wall, hands shooting out to grip the walls. Looking up with mechanical precision, he shot up, moving up the shaft and towards one goal: Level One.
He saw the doorway to the top of the elevator shaft and leapt up, gripping the sides. He raised his palm, preparing to blast open the circuitry and open the door...
...an explosion rocked the station, and the shaft shook, Kai Leng almost losing his grip, if it weren't for his accuracy and speed, and he quickly regripped the edge, looking downwards. The explosion had been distant, but he knew who it was. Alliance has arrived. Must double-time it. Smaller time window. Use to advantage. Act quickly.
His palm raised and fired, the door shooting open as he leapt inside, head first, landing on all fours, facing forward. The command and control center of Walker Station was large and spanned about ten meters across on all sides. Control terminals littered the area, along with multiple personnel, all unarmed. Easy pickings. Weak.
A massive observation window occupied the wall ahead, and gave a beautiful view of the space outside. The planet it orbitted, Hunyadi, sat before them, a massive ball of pulsing red, the planet's many lava reserves encroaching its surface and burning it to a crisp; Leng imagined what the station would like falling into the planet's atmosphere; a fireball upon a massive fiery heat world.
And covering the vision now, was a wolf-pack of three Alliance frigates, a picket of fighters and a single light cruiser. No doubt a part of a much larger battlegroup or flotilla. Must not allow them to get hands on such data. Must be purged; cannot compromise Cerberus operations. He stood up and approached the middle of the room, quickly garnering the attention of the Cerberus personnel that had been running around the room.
One scientist approached him, obviously the commander of the station, "Agent Leng! I heard you were coming! What are your orders?"
Leng barely spoke, pointing at a nearby console, "All the station archives: delete them."
The man nodded, rushing to the console, "Understand that; can't let the Alliance get their hands on what's stored here."
Leng merely nodded, not answering the man as he moved to unsheathe his katana, doing so slowly so not to arouse suspicion. A few seconds later, the man reported, back turning to face Leng, who's hands were already locking around the handle of his blade, preparing to pull it out and attack.
"Walker Station archives are wiped," the man reported, "What now sir? Have you come to evac us?"
Leng shook his head, "You're all a security risk. Orders to terminate." He fully unsheathed his sword, pulling it forth in a slashing movement and causing the man to jump back in fright, eyes widening with fear as he met Leng's cold expression.
"You can't! Please, I have a-"
He was cut off as he found a katana buried deeply in his mouth, slicing out through the other side as an explosion of blood and gore poured out the other side. His eyes rolled, his protests becoming a gurgling sound and body quickly going limp. Everyone stood there horrified for a few seconds, Leng twisting and then ripping the blade from the man's throat, kicking his dead body to the ground and into a pool of collecting blood. That's when the screaming began.
It was a slaughter; the people had nowhere to go, and they knew it. Everyone tripped and fell over each other, desperately trying to escape Kai Leng's onslaught as they were cut apart, blasted apart or simply bashed into oblivion. Either way, the Cerberus assassin made absolutely sure that noone escaped the purge and when it was all over, and the cries of the weak stopped, everyone in the control center was dead.
Mission complete. Extracting now. He turned to the door, only to hear the elevator ascend. His men had clear instructions to return to the ship when the mission was complete, which could only mean one thing. My men are eliminated. Alliance troops ascending. Must eliminate.
He drew his katana, boosted his shields, and prepared his palm-cannon. He waited for what felt like seconds as the elevator ascended to his level and stopped.
Six alliance marines poured out of the elevator, all wearing the blue and black armor of the Systems Alliance. They bore assault rifles and shotguns, and their helmets were fully sealed, in case of decompression. Their armor was medium and they definitely had shields, but it was nothing Kai Leng couldn't handle. They will die.
"You!" The lead marine called out, raising his vindicator to face the assassin, his comrades following suit as they piled out and encircled him, "Drop the fancy sword and hands behind your back. Now, Cerberus scumbag."
Leng merely chuckled, springing into action. His katana danced in his hand, burying itself in the crack between the man's armor and helmet and causing him to gurgle out a cry of pain as blood exploded from the wound, dropping his rifle and collapsing onto the ground. Without hesitation, Leng spun around and activated his biotic barrier generator, just in time to deflect a swarm of gunfire from the rest of the marines.
As this occured, he used his other hand to rip the sword from the man's neck, who had drowned in a growing pool of red liquid and dropped the barrier, raising his omni-tool and sabotaging their weapons. With the weapon's jammed, he charged forth, katana in hand, palm-cannon ready in the other.
One marine dropped her weapon to outright engage the assassin in hand-to-hand and a ghost of a smile came upon his lips as he dodged her kick, and blocked her hammerfist. Impressive. He ducked low, spun, and executed a footsweep, causing the marine to land on her back as Leng completed his turn and plunged his katana deep into her gut, twisting the blade to draw out her agony as he raised his palm and fired a blind shot, blowing apart the kneecap of a soldier raising his sidearm.
Letting go of his katana, he turned and snapped the neck of the crippled soldier, turning to face the other three marines who had their sidearms drawn. He was quick, but not quick enough to avoid a shot to his shoulder, but Leng merely gritted his teeth and this time shrugged off the shot to his hip as he charged and kicked one marine in the side of his head before then using his other leg to kick him in the groin, followed by his palm-cannon blowing apart his head.
Using the man's falling momentum, he picked up his body and used it as a shield against the other two troopers who raised their sidearms to fire at Leng, only to hit their comrade's mutilated corpse. Knowing that his palm weapon needed a few seconds to recharge, he gritted his teeth and growled as he drew his omni-blade. He despised energy weaponry, and preferred to use more olden day style weapons, his palm-cannon and biotic barrier being an exception, but only due to usefulness. Leave it to him, and he'd use only a katana.
With his omni-blade equipped, he charged forth, his cybernetics allowing him the strength to hold up the dead body as he collided with the fifth marine and caused both of them to collapse onto the ground, leaving him open to the sixth marine, who was raising his pistol...
...only for Leng to land infront of him, omni-blade slicing his throat wide open. With a snarl, the assassin lunged his hand forward and pulled the man's tongue out and through his throat, leaving a thick stream of blood gushing out onto his face and body, and soaking the front of his hair, which would soon crust. He dropped the man's ripped tongue to the floor and let his body fall to the ground before raising his palm cannon and finishing off the final marine, who had been climbing to their feet.
With a barely concealed sigh, Kai Leng overlooked the carnage before him. He didn't bother applying medi-gel, as his cybernetics would heal his wounds fast enough. He moved over to another one of the dead marines, pulling the sword from his chest and sheathing it, his mission complete. He commed his transport vessel, steadily making for the elevator as he felt blood on his lips. He smiled...and licked it.
"Sir?" The ship responded.
"Contact Dielheart," Leng replied, still smiling and loving the bitter taste of blood on his tongue, "Tell him that Walker Station's archives are cleared; the Alliance will find nothing here. Wait for me to come back and we'll depart."
"What about our men?"
"Expendable."
"Understood."
And with that, Leng moved towards the elevator, a sadistic grin still spelt on his features. If he could cut through alliance marines like that...
...he couldn't wait to face Shepard. He would enjoy tasting his treacherous blood.
{Loading...}
October 25, 2185
1216 hours.
Admiralty Board Room, Liveship Rayya, Migrant Fleet, Malro System, Kalaaad Nebula.
Admiral Shala'Raan vas Tonbay, Admiral Han'Gerrel vas Neema, Admiral Zaal'Koris vas Qwib Qwib, Admiral Daro'Xen vas Moreh.
Shala hated these meetings; every single one was the same. There were two kinds of these meetings; Morning War debate and Migrant Fleet affairs. It would either be a pissing contest between Gerrel or Koris on the terms of war with the geth, with Xen lazily sitting back and lounging while Shala rolled her eyes, or it would be them discussing how to maintain certain ships, where to send certain resources, etc.
To Shala, they were wastes of time. She was a devoted member of the Flotilla, noone could ever doubt that, and she knew the importance of these meetings, but she felt like they spent too much time discussing on what they should do, instead of actually doing it. She could only imagine what would happen if the turians attacked the fleet; Gerrel would probably end up discussing it...
Today was another one of those days; today, it was politics, thank the ancestors. Gerrel and Koris would make occassional jabs at each other, for sure, they always did love hating each other and their differing opinions, but they mostly remained silent, resorting to the occassional glare which, even behind a mask, couldn't be hidden.
As Koris ranted on about the situation with his Civilian Fleet, Gerrel listened with feigned interest, obviously thinking about how many more guns he could fit on the Neema, or the other ships of his Heavy Fleet. Maybe he was thinking of acquiring a nuclear warhead, or, knowing the man, acquiring some of the new high-tech GARDIAN lasers that the Alliance built to give the Migrant Fleet abit more of an edge. He mostly looked bored, not quite there. Gerrel was always more of a soldier than a politician, Shala could vouch for that. As could have Rael. Keelah...what Tali must be going through...
Xen, as usual, didn't even pretend to be interested and looked thoroughly invested in her omni-tool, hardly even listening as her feet were kicked up on the table. Shala could never understand what she was even doing on the Admiralty Board; she was younger than most admirals, being only 32 years old; not atrociously young for an admiral, but boarding closely. She had only gotten onboard because of Tazai's resignation, nothing else. She was most likely looking up status updates with her Special Projects Fleet; she was always infatuated with her experiments, and it had been obvious that the destruction of the Alarei had upset her.
But four admirals wasn't enough; there was meant to be five, and they were missing the most important of them all; the leader himself. For now Gerrel was taking over as regent for Rael and voting for the next chief admiral was still pending, but it wouldn't be long before a decision was made, or so she hoped. To her surprise, Peta'Yala had entered in as a potential candidate, but she knew his lack of political knowledge would stop him from succeeding, especially due to lack of popularity. Even Tali was on the list, but she doubted she would win either.
Tali must still be taking Rael's death hard; why else wouldn't she contact me? She hasn't contacted me or the fleet since her trial. Keelah, I hope she's alright. That suicide mission she mentioned...ancestors give her strength and let her come out alive. She knew the chances were low, as they were travelling through the Omega 4 Relay, and all she could think of was Tali's mutilated corpse on some base, rotting...At least her captain is with her. She smiled at that thought, remembering the embrace they had shared. He isn't quarian, but she chose well. Rael wouldn't have liked it, but he might have warmed up to it eventually.
Her zoning out was stopped as Koris' voice reached a new crescendo, as if violently shaking her to make her listen, "...the Civilian Fleet needs these supplies! How are we..."
The admiral leaned forward, hands placed firmly on the desk infront of her and she sighed. A clean room. Definitely need a clean room. Maybe spend some time with my husband...yes, that sounds nice. Just some time with him...a clean room...anywhere would do, just not with these insufferable idiots...
"Shala, are you even listening?" Gerrel asked, breaking Shala out of her daydream. She was about to reply, a bluish tinge coming to her cheeks as she felt ashamed at her behaviour, but was cut off as Xen spoke in retort.
"Can't say I blame her," Xen replied, "This entire meeting is a farce."
Koris looked about to yell as his head snapped towards the younger admiral, "Excuse me? This is hardly a farce! We are discussing the maintenance of the civilian fleet! This is extremely important!"
"To the Admiral of the Civilian Fleet maybe," Xen replied dryly, turning back to her omni-tool, completely uninterested in what retort the admirals around her had, "But not to us. We have our own fleets to maintain Koris; it is your job to look after yours."
Koris appeared to be positively fuming, the admiral standing up and pointing a just finger at the woman, "Maintaining the fleet is a number one priority; we must all share this burden, as the Admiralty Board has done for three hundred years! It is our duty to protect the people and our existence! Like it or not, the Civilian Fleet is the majority of the Flotilla, and all our liveships are under my command! What do you command Xen? A picket? I command the lifeline of our people! So don't you sit there and-"
Xen held up a three-fingered hand to halt Koris' ongoing rant, her posture radiating amusement, ripping her attention away from the omni-tool she had seemed so invested in, "Rest easy Koris and you can let loose your urinal fluids later. I just wanted to rile you up, its hilarious to watch you yell. I merely think the fleet is fine as it is, and we shouldn't be fretting over such trivial things."
Xen and Koris seemed to stare at each other for a few more seconds, the feeling in the air tense. Shala exchanged glances with Gerrel, who returned it in turn, giving her a reluctant nod before he stood up, looking directly at Koris, "This meeting is adjourned; we shall continue this on another date."
"Indeed we shall," Koris replied, in his usual a-matter-of-fact tone.
Xen scoffed, garnering the attention of Zaal but before he could turn to yell at her again, she was already out the door. Koris sighed, bowed to the both of them and then took his own leave, leaving Shala and Gerrel alone as they, side by side, also left the room, moving down the corridor towards the trade deck where they would go on seperate shuttles to the Tonbay and Neema.
As they walked, Gerrel turned to her, shaking his head, "You didn't listen to a word, we were singing were you?"
Shala chuckled, giving him a confirming look, "I won't lie, Gerrel. That meeting was pointless, and you know it."
Gerrel shrugged, a grin in his voice, "I admit, it was one of the more redundant meetings. But you know Koris is right; the liveships won't last much longer. We need to...we need to do something."
Shala knew he was right. Not everyone knew it, but the Migrant Fleet was dying. The liveships were aging to a point beyond repair and resources were becoming harder to maintain. Meru's death on the Yallp'az proved this; the ship's excellently maintained oxygen filtration system failing and causing the ship to be scrapped. If they didn't find a world soon, the quarian people would die. Koris wanted them to find a new world, but deep down, Shala knew what Gerrel and Xen wanted, what Tali wanted, what the quarian people wanted.
Rannoch. They wanted, no, needed, their homeworld back.
Like it or not, war will be inevitable. But how can we think of retaking the Veil in our current state? If the fleet can't even maintain itself, then how can we handle naval engagement, especially with the geth fleet?
These thoughts haunted her; terrified her. The thought of the Flotilla burning over the skies of Rannoch sent shivers through her spine, and she didn't dare think of it, but in times like this, it was hard not to. This new admiral's morals were unknown; noone had been elected yet. Would they support Xen? Maybe support Gerrel's calls for war like Rael did? Neutral like Shala herself? Support Koris? Or maybe another secret ideal...
I want Rannoch back. I want to be able to hold my husband's hand as we gaze at the sunset, heads uncovered and the feeling of cloth against my skin. I want to give Tali that future, my people that future...we've suffered long enough...ancestors give us the strength to succeed if war comes...
Shala cleared her throat, looking up at Gerrel as they continued through the halls of the Rayya, "Something will be done, it always is. The Migrant Fleet has survived this long, it can survive alittle bit longer, at least until we find a new world."
Gerrel shook his head angrily, "You're starting to sound like Koris; Rannoch is the only world I will settle for."
"Would you risk our destruction for it?"
"Yes!" Gerrel shouted, turning to her, "Don't you understand, Shala? We need Rannoch! It is our birth planet! We need ground to call home again, not the deck of a ship! We either die retaking the homeworld, or win and reclaim it, or we die out here, in the lifeless void, slowly bleeding out. That is no way to die, not for the quarian people. We will not meekly go out; we will take the geth with us. That is how the quarian people will die, or not at all."
Shala wanted to refute his argument, but knew it was pointless; Rael and Han had always been solid steel walls when it came to their ideals of war with the geth, however foolish they were, and even after Rael's death, Han's opinion would never change, if only strengthened due to the geth being involved in his best friend's murder.
The rest of their walk was spent in silence. They eventually reached the trade deck, where they both exchanged curt but polite goodbyes before entering their respective shuttles and departing the liveship, Kar'Danna vas Rayya, the Rayya's captain, wishing them safe travel. Shala returned the notion and waited patiently as the shuttle approached the Tonbay, gliding through the tightly knit fleet of fifty thousand vessels.
The biggest fleet in the galaxy, and we're falling apart, and Gerrel would wish to throw us at the geth. It would be our end.
Shala sat there, looking blankly at a wall until the shuttle docked with her flagship's trade deck. She departed, informing her XO that he was still in command and that she would be in her living quarters. The captain, and his/her spouse and children got seperate quarters to the crew, but it was almost as small, showing just how little luxuries the quarian people can afford.
Not like I desire such luxuries anyway; a waste of resources, if you ask me.
The Tombay wasn't a complex ship, even for the flagship of the Patrol Fleet, so it was a relatively short distance to her quarters from the trading deck. Once she got there, she lifted the cloth covering her doorway, which had the Clan Raan colors and patterns all over it. Pushing it aside, she stepped inside. Her quarters were box sized and was about four meters across with a basic mattress and desk. Her husband wasn't there, which gave her sometimes to herself as she moved to sit behind her tiny desk, opening her terminal and letting it warm up.
She usually looked at the galactic news everytime she did open her terminal, always curious and eager to see what impacts her niece was making on galactic society. Or her mother now. Poor girl has no family yet...except for Shepard...she smiled at that, the picture of her young niece with the human commander...it warmed her heart, as cheesy as it sounded.
As she did open the news tab however, she immediately noticed the main headline, origination being Illium. With widened eyes gawking the summary below the title she clicked it open and watched the information stream in before her. What she saw appalled, sickened, frustrated, warmed and angered her. With a huff, she finished reading the news report and immediately brought up her omni-tool, looking for Tali's contact address.
So she survived and never told me? And now she almost gets shot by the Illium police? No, its too much...I need to know she's safe. I can't let the last of Rael's part of the Zorah bloodline die with her, not with my poor niece...no, I don't care if she has to be torn away from Shepard, I'll bring her to where she's safe...she'll listen to me...maybe I should contact Kal and Lia as well...
And she did.
{Loading...}
October 25, 2185
1218 hours.
'Humanity's Sanctum', Upper Level, Cronos Station, Anadius System.
The Illusive Man, First Lieutenant Geoff Dielheart.
"So what you're trying to tell me is that the hit squad failed to kill Miss Zorah and Miss Goto?"
He could practically hear Geoff shift behind him, the answer clear to him. TIM wanted verbal clarification however, to know fully from his second-in-command that his attempts to kill two of the closest people to Shepard had failed and they had escaped almost unscathed.
Geoff nodded, "Yes sir. The hit squad failed; their reaction time was unprecedented."
TIM shook his head, "They shouldn't have tried to kill them in the open, and even then, they should have sniped them, not engaged in close combat with a shotgun specialist. I'd execute the idiots myself, but Zorah and Goto seemed to have done that for me. And the Shadow Broker's men?"
Geoff shook his head, "They were more successful, but lost more men in the progress. They managed to severely wound, if not kill, Zaeed Massani, but Shepard was able to fight off the rest of them intime for extraction and as far as we know, escaped with Massani as well. Both assassination attempts failed."
"This incompetency will not be a issue when that armor and the subsequent upgrades start rolling out," TIM shook his head.
"The Normandy has completed repairs and is scheduled to leave later today," Dielheart reported, hands clasped behind his back, "Do you want me to send another hit squad?"
"And hit them on their home turf? Shepard would see us coming, and besides, the Tajikistan tried that and we all saw how that ended up. I'm done underestimating Shepard," TIM replied, turning to face Dielheart, "No more hit squads; the Shadow Broker and I will coordinate closely and watch Shepard from a distance; T'Soni is a threat, but we must wait until they are vulnerable before striking, and this time with more force. Subtlely isn't working for us, and that always calls for desperate measures. Anyway, I want an update."
"Armor progress is the same, but some of our teams have managed to track down Sovereign's remains. Some pieces, mostly to do with the weapons, are in the hands of the Hierarchy, some with the Union, and the rest with the Alliance. Special forces teams have been dispatched to recover the remains, and the Shadow Broker is sending some of his own men to aid us."
"The fleet?"
"The Montgomery is complete," he responded, "We have begun repainting her into Migrant Fleet colors, and she will be usable within a few days, with everyone working full time. Completion extended at the end of the weekend. As for the rest of the fleet, construction is moving fast, but it will be a while before its completed. The Elbrus is almost completed however, as you requested."
"How about the recruitment program, Eva project and the Atlas requisition? I also want to begin reinforcing our LOKI mechs with heavy armor plating and giving them limited VI program intelligence. We'll call them Rampart mechs."
"The recruitment program is going well, with many already rallying to our cause, many of them Terra Firma supporters. A few Alliance officers have defected as well," the human stated, "The Eva project has reported that they have finished the AI itself and are just struggling with constructing the body now. They expect completion to be within the next month. Atlas requisition is going fine, with over 150 Atlases purchased and being loaded onto Benedict Military Station. More are rolling in as we go. And I will have the military division informed of your new orders recording the LOKI mechs. Also, General Petrovsky would like to see you; he arrived a day ago."
"Excellent. Send him in immediately," TIM replied, waving Dielheart off as he continued to look blankly at Anadius; or, rather, the gigantic dreadnought that now obscured his vision of said sun. The Elbrus was enormous in size, as was befitting a Killmanjaro-Class Dreadnought, and the many workmen building it along her length was impressive. She was a dull grey in color at the moment, but he could practically see the Cerberus logos and colors on her now. The pride of the Cerberus Navy...and she will be Petrovsky's to command...
Geoff had left and the door quickly reopened, causing TIM to turn around in his chair, watching General Oleg Petrovsky, ex-Alliance Army Veteran, walk in, his posture radiating authority and demanding submission. He was quite impressive.
The man was obviously russian, not only the man's name giving it away but his accent over the comms had been very thick. His face was rugged and his jawline firm, with a long line of heavy stubble practically covering his chin and upper lip, giving him a combination of thick moustache and beard, all black and brown. His thick, brown eyebrows were so close together, they were almost a monobrow and his ears were oriented widely out to the side, so much so that it was almost comical.
His eyes seemed set in permanent glare mode, his eyelids so small and narrowed, you could barely make out the aqua blue in them. His forehead was huge and largely uncovered, with his black, combed and washed hair starting at the top of his head and ending just above his neck, giving him the look of a well-maintained man. He still wore his alliance general uniform, but soon that would be replaced by his Cerberus admiral's uniform, which was being weaved for him even as they spoke, Cerberus' militarization knowing no bounds.
The man stopped infront of his chair, moving as close as he dared and hands clasped behind his back, chest puffed out, looking down at the cross-legged leader of Cerberus. He fit his uniform well, and his tanned skin did nothing to hide his rippling muscle.
Oleg had built something of a reputation; infamous and famous, which is why the Illusive Man had been so interested in him. He had fought in the First Contact War, and was round about the same age as Councilor Anderson. His knack for strategy and tactics had made him an excellent tactician, and had General Williams not been in command of the Shanxi garrison and Petrovsky there instead, they might have beaten the turians and Shanxi would never have been occupied.
His strategic way of thinking was funny, however. The man had been obsessed with chess in his early childhood, and had carried on his passion into his military career. He took his holographic chess set with him everywhere he went and, when he became a general, used it as a sort of 'strategic map.' The famously dubbed 'chess tactics' was devised by the general, who used his 'pawns' as his troops, 'queen' as his second-in-command, his rooks and bishops as armoured and naval divisions, knights as reserves and of course, the king was him.
But the chess tactic worked, and Petrovsky kept using it. And luckily for Cerberus, he was heavily pro-human, having a profound hatred for turians ever since the Relay 314 Incident. He was perfect.
"Illusive Man," Petrovsky, his accent deep-throated and thick, "An honor to meet the man himself in person. I thought I'd be speaking through hologram; apparently not."
"Men like us deserve to meet in person, General," TIM replied cooly, "How do you find Cerberus? Better than the Alliance I should hope?"
Petrovsky, scoffed leaning back slightly, "Its not comfort I look for, its enemies. I am a general, I have no time for luxuries and don't want to entertain the thought of them. Give me men to command and then we'll see how accomodating Cerberus can be."
TIM let a ghost of a smile pass his lips, but quickly wiped it away, snuffing out his cigarette, "Straight to business, an attitude I can come to like, few men are like this. Petrovsky, what if I told you I was making you General of the Cerberus Army?"
Petrovsky, unlike TIM, didn't bother hiding his smile, although it was faint, the man hardly being amused, "I don't know; what would you like me to say?"
"That you're honored," TIM replied, "That you're willing to do anything to further the needs of humanity and stop the Reaper threat."
"Then I'm honored," Petrovsky replied in kind, "And I will do anything that is necessary to further the needs of humanity and stop the Reaper threat. I do have a question though; I was told that I would be given full command over the Cerberus military; what changed this?"
TIM nodded, turning to a screen behind him, "Because the Cerberus Minister of War needs to always be available when things need doing, but you'll be quite occupied, I'm afraid. When finished, I will be giving you command of the entire Cerberus First Fleet, with the Elbrus as your flagship and at a maximum of forty thousand troops."
Petrovsky raised an eyebrow as he looked at the schematic, "And what will I be doing?"
TIM turned around, and eyed the space station that would soon be in his grasp; Cerberus' grasp. "I want you to conquer one of the most infamous space stations in the galaxy and to turn it into a Cerberus-occupied city. I want you to turn it into a stage of operations for our organization. In short, Petrovsky..."
He turned back to the man, holding up his whiskey as he took a sip, and met the man's cool gaze, both of them waiting for the answer. And the answer oh so easily rolled from his lips.
"...I want Omega."
{Loading...}
October 25, 2185
1221 hours.
Captain's Quarters, Normandy-Class Stealth Frigate Normandy SR-2, Docked on Illium.
Commander Marcus Lee Shepard, Chief Engineer Tali'Zorah vas Normandy.
"Marcus, what are you doing!?"
Marcus chuckled as he held firmly onto the quarian engineer's wrist, pulling her out of engineering and towards the elevator, to both her irritation, and Gabby and Ken's relief, the quarian having worked them to death the last week while the Normandy was repaired. The ship was practically fixed now, and if it hadn't been for the crew, you wouldn't even know the ship had been on a suicide mission...
...or had been Cerberus. As he pulled the struggling quarian outside, he was no longer met by a Cerberus insignia glaring back at him or white and gold aligning the walls...no, instead there was no insignia, and he had chosen to give the ship a red and black color; his favourite colors...or fav color and shade, if you even bothered with the distinction.
He pulled Tali towards him, the quarian spinning until his arm was around her waist and she stopped struggling, instead sighing with feigned annoyance and quickly snuggling in, the spectre laughing as they entered the elevator and he punched the button for deck one, unable to contain his excitement as they moved upwards.
Its finally done...its installed...
With noone looking, Tali looked up at him, slapping his chest, "You bosh'tet! Why did you drag me away from my work? I was busy!"
"I think I was doing Ken and Gabby a favor," Marcus remarked but seeing the quarian's eyes narrowing, he quickly answered the question, "Because the repairs are almost done and I want to spend some time with you." It was an easy lie, and it rolled easily from his lips, but he could tell his little engineer wasn't buying it.
"I still have work to do," Tali replied instantly.
"And I'm the captain, and I'm telling you to relax," Marcus soothed, rubbing her arm, "The Collectors are defeated; we should be celebrating, not working our asses off! We did plenty of that during the collector campaign and now we have time to relax. Besides, I want to spend time with you, and since its too dangerous to walk around Nos Astra, sometime in the cabin is a good idea. I want to introduce you to a new TV series too. Its old, just like Game of Thrones, but just as good."
Tali hummed, leaning in, "Hmmmmm...What's it called?"
"Breaking Bad," Marcus replied, "Its a very interesting and interesting series, you'll like it. I hope. I mean, its not all blood and gore like Game of Thrones, but its still pretty hardcore."
"I'll take your word for it," Tali replied, silence entering the elevator as it slowly climbed upwards. He groaned inwardly, causing the quarian snuggled up to him to giggle. He sighed in response. Damn this elevator; why is it so bloody slow! Its a marked improvement over the SR-1's elevator, but come on! Are we incapable of making fast moving-
The elevator ceased movement and the door opened, allowing them access. He blinked and let a grin cross his lips. Spoke too soon? Both of them moved out of the elevator and towards the cabin, and he knew Tali wouldn't be able to not notice the fact that there was now two doors leading into the cabin instead of one, both of them overlapping. She stopped movement and looked up at him, frowning.
"What's this?" Tali asked, pointing at the second door, "That wasn't there before."
"It is now," Marcus smiled, letting his hand slide from her waist, "Go ahead, open it. See what it does."
She gave him a quizzical and suspicious look, but only got Marcus' encouraging hand waving to the door in response. She sighed, reluctantly pulling away from her mate as she turned to the door, inhaled and exhaled and then marched towards it, closing the distance in a millisecond. She gave the door another once over, looked back at Marcus, the same grin on his face and then turned back, raising her hand and tapping the orange colored haptic interface.
She watched the door shoot open and blinked in surprise when she heard EDI's voice, followed by a cleansing beam of light similiar to the Normandy's decontamination unit in the airlock begin to drown her form in white light, "Standby. Decontamination in progress."
She widened her eyes in realization and turned to her boyfriend, the man confirming her thoughts with a grin. She watched as the beam continued to drape her, before Marcus stood beside and let the beam do its work on him as well, both of them smiling at the results. Once finished, the haptic interface of the cabin door remained red and both of them; yes, even Marcus, looked at each other in confusion before EDI's voice rose, "Cleansing cabin of bacteria and pathogens...please wait."
Both of them beamed, embracing each other as Tali whispered, "I can't believe...I can't-"
"Decontamination complete. You may enter when ready."
Marcus' hand shot out, hit the now green interface and the cabin door shot open, letting out a soft hiss as the room pressurized and equalized with the room they were in. They moved inside, still holding each other and smiling. But then Tali broke away from him, leaping into the room and ripping off her mask as she yelled, voice unsythesized, "I'm free!"
She turned to Marcus a grin on her soft cheeks as she looked at him, hot tears forming, "You made...you did all this...for me...a clean room...for us...You turned your cabin, our cabin, into a clean room. Marcus, how...?"
"With a couple of the best technicians Liara could find, a certain geth infiltrator and EDI's finishing touch," he looked up, smiling, "Thank you by the way EDI, and make sure those techs get a bonus in their paycheck; they've earned it. Thank Legion too."
"Will do commander," EDI replied, her voice having a hint of pride in it.
Tali, still smiling, looked at him quizzically, "Legion helped? The workers weren't...freaked out by that?"
"Don't worry, Legion never directly helped, it just helped over the comm feeds via a link EDI made. They basically worked in tandem. It was damn impressive. Even Mordin gave it a once over to make sure it worked properly," Marcus replied, still grinning at his ability to surprise his lover. Speaking of Mordin...I need to get him those samples...but not before asking Tali...
Tali nodded, moving further into the room as she pulled down her hood and stepped into the room, only for Marcus to redirect her to a closest nearby. She frowned but it quickly disappeared when Marcus opened his drawers and pulled out a special set of clothes weaved...for quarians.
"These," he told her, "Are for you whenever you're out of your suit in here. Can't very well have you walking around naked all the time."
Tali giggled, bumping hips with him before grinding her buttocks against his crotch, forcing him to stiffle a moan, "Oh, but I'm sure you'd love me that way."
"I would, but come on, some dignity, right?" He ignored the heated gaze Tali gave him, reading her thoughts better than he thought he did. She isn't sick anymore...and I really should get those samples...He shook the thoughts from his head, handing the clothes over to Tali. But as he did, the quarian walked past him and rummaged into the draw, clearly finding something she liked. With a barely concealed grin and a body of mirth, she turned to him, hiding something behind her back, "Close your eyes." Her voice was honey.
"What?" He asked, confused, looking at what she was hiding, "What have you got behind your back?"
"A surprise," she told him flatly, cocking her head at him, "Now, close your eyes and turn around."
He sighed, giving in as he turned around and closed his eyes, crossing his arms as he did. He waited a few seconds and a grin formed as he heard Tali fiddling with her suit latches and seals, obviously removing the blasted prison from her body. He pictured her naked, lithe form in his mind and let it occupy his thoughts; how she smelt, how she felt...how she tasted...
"Turn around, open your eyes," Her voice was seductive and he felt himself shiver at her tone.
He opened his eyes first and turned around, stopping mid turn as his eyes widened at the beautiful, sexy sight before him. Oh...
Tali wasn't wearing her suit anymore; that was obvious, as it was placed haphazardly on the couch and her mask resting beside the scorched N7 helmet he found on Alchera. Her pale grey skin was shown once more, and her freckled cheeks always reinforced his opinion of her adorableness. Her little three-toed feet just backed this, as did her small, frail three-fingered hands. Tali was a badass...but this Tali wasn't. All he saw was...was a goddess.
But she wasn't naked; she was wearing something. A top.
That something was his N7 hoodie.
He looked at her, mouth hanging open. His hoodie was obviously big for her; it covered her entire torso and even stretched down her legs, acting as a skirt as well, hiding her loins behind a wall of cloth. She was naked and wearing nothing underneath, which just made his member stiffen even more. Damn it Tali, you're not helping this situation...
The hood was pulled up, hiding her hair, leaving only her face, which was alittle bit hidden under the hood, the quarian smiling with teeth bared, one of the hood's straps fiddling in her hands. He could see her breasts, free of the restraint of the suit, and they definitely couldn't be hidden by the hoodie that was too big for her frame.
But god, she looked sexy in it. Hot even.
"Like what you see?" He could see her blushing.
With a grin he grabbed onto her hips, thrusted her into the air and practically moved her over to the couch, where he sat down and she sat on his laps. He looked up at her, gave her a peck on the lips, and looked deeply into her eyes, "Forget the new clothes; I want you wearing that all the time."
The quarian giggled, "I can't wear male clothes, Marcus."
"Oh, but you look so sexy in it," he told her, still grinning and causing her to blush again, the quarian still not used to compliments.
She snuggled further into his chest, sighing heavily, "I could get used to this; it feels selfish, but I really could. I love you Marcus, and I want every moment we have together to be like this."
"You know that won't happen for awhile," he told her, arm wrapping around her shoulder as he pulled the hood down and kissed the top of her head, "But we'll enjoy what moments we can have like this. I love you too Tali and I wouldn't give up this moment for anything. That said, I have something I need to-"
He was cut off as Tali's omni-tool gave off a shrill scream, something akin to a banshee's screech, or at least to the two of them in terms to their moment together and Marcus growled with irritation, Tali reciprocating the gesture by reluctantly pulling herself from him and moved over to the desk to retrieve her omni-tool but not before wiggling her hips, giving him a sly smile as she picked up the small device in her palm and activated, "I'll put it on-"
She stopped herself, obviously invested in what she was reading. He looked up at her and got up, walking over to her just as she turned to him, gulping. His eyes narrowed, "What's wrong? What happened?"
"Marcus," Tali gulped again, hesitating as she deactivated her omni-tool, "Auntie Raa-Admiral Raan has ordered me, Kal and Lia to return to the fleet immediately. She says she won't accept negoitation..."
He narrowed his eyes, angry, "This better not be another trial."
"I think she'd tell me if it was; she did last time. But Marcus, she seemed pretty angry in the message. I think she knows about my survival and how I got shot, and is angry at me for not answering. She'll want answers."
He smiled, sighing as he pulled the omni-tool from her palm and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, "Then'll we go. But in the mean time, I've got something I'd like to do..."
Tali gave a sultry smile, "Which is?"
She shuddered as one of his hands reached down and prodded her womanhood, causing her to moan. She returned the gesture by slipping her hand into his jeans, clutching his erect manhood, and began to stroke it. Both of them continued this motion before they stopped, looked at each other and kissed each other deeply. Once they broke for breath, Tali motioned to the bed.
"Bed. Now."
And both of them moved towards the bed. And they made love for the majority of that morning.
Noone dared interrupt them.
"Keelah; my aunt was always very protective."
- Tali'Shepard pav Rannoch.
"No shit!"
- Marcus Shepard.
A/N:
I apologize for this overly late chapter, but its like I said, Year 10 is brutal and chapters will be nonexistent in the last week of Term 2 as I'm going on Work Experience at a Law Firm, which will take up most of my time.
REMEMBER:
This story is not dead!
Also, I'm going to start writing two one-shots, both of them depressing and Mass Effect based. I hope you're ready to shed a few tears or be emotionally ripped, because I know I will just writing them. One will be based during ME3, the other based on the Refusal Ending.