A/N: Apologies for the slow update, but due to some bastard sense of whimsy my muse decided to hibernate for the duration of the holidays and has only awoken now that I have other demands on my time again...
Counterstrike
They came for him in the middle of the night cycle – which is not to say that he was asleep. The four security personnel didn't bother to knock, but the door's opening sigh afforded Shepard sufficient warning to roll off of his bed and into the darkest corner out of the intruders' line of sight. An instant later, the lights had been activated, and no-one had yet advanced around the corner. Clearly they had been briefed on how he would react to this sort of awakening.
"Major Hogan wants to see you."
Once again it came down to something of a gamble. The nature of Thaddaeus' relationship with his superior had been altered from a cordial, mutually beneficial transaction of services to the more usual mixture of mistrust and manipulation. And yet, if this was an attempt to eliminate him, all that was required in given the intolerably enclosed environs was a carefully placed grenade. Which probably wasn't out of the question if he didn't cooperate for the time being...
He stepped out, empty hands clearly on display, and saw men out of armour, weapons holstered.
"You realise that there is an intercom as well as the override?"
"Get dressed, sir."
"We just received a priority tightbeam from the Citadel and Arcturus. Anita Goyle has been assassinated." Shepard's eyes narrowed. Goyle was the first human Ambassador to the Citadel races, so by definition an assassination was unprecedented. "The method seems to have been a remotely detonated explosive. We don't yet know the specifics, but the blast radius was small, and therefore specifically targeted. Besides this, and the fact that there have been no further attacks as yet, we have no clue as to motivation."
"Someone with access to high security areas is targeting the Alliance as a political organisation." The N7 thought aloud. "This was a demonstration of their ideals and their capabilities, something they'll want to be made as public as possible. A manifesto, or maybe a declaration of war. It could be human secessionists, or any number of xenophobic alien groups." Hogan nodded along. "But you've got plenty of eyes you can trust to investigate – why am I hearing this?"
Ignoring the subtle barb in his subordinate's voice, the Irishman seemed to weigh his words before replying.
"The Admiralty shares your interpretation, and they've formulated what they feel is an effective counter, with the Council's approval. The risks are twofold: that the Alliance is made to appear timid and inept; and that a wedge is driven between us and the rest of the Council races. The response entails replacing Goyle as quickly as possible, and successfully inaugurating the new Ambassador in public with minimal visible security."
"So they contacted the covert operations division." Thaddaeus concluded. "I'm no bodyguard, sir, and the likelihood of public exposure seems rather prohibitive."
"I'm well aware," came the acidic reply. "Others will handle the protection – you're to be part of the counter operation, targeting the assassin, neutralising them quietly. But I want them alive for questioning."
"Assuming there even is another attack." Shepard frowned. He could understand the merits of the strategy, even if the politics was just the usual posturing for the ignorant majority, but one of the key strengths was the fact that no-one could hope to hit the same target twice and be successful without using overwhelming force – and there was no need when their point had been proven with the first attack. The assassin had expected to be a safeguard, something to make the charade look good for the politicians in the Admiralty, but Hogan was treating the briefing like it was leading into a legitimate operation. Which meant that there was to the situation.
"We are assured that there will be." The Irishman replied, rather sourly. "By a Major Kheldar, of the Salarian STG." He sighed, a quick release of suppressed frustrations, before he continued. "He requested your involvement specifically."
"By what name?"
"He asked for Thanatos, obviously, but he would either way, wouldn't he? Equally, it could be the innocent fact that you are our highest rated agent."
Thaddaeus raised an eyebrow, studiously nonchalant. "Not Operative Samael?"
"He's on assignment." A pause that would have been awkward, if the two hadn't already been staring at each other, noting every precisely intoned word, every behavioural tick, feigned or otherwise. If the two of them had anything more than an abstract understanding of what social awkwardness meant.
"Anything else I should know?"
"... My contacts in the STG claim Kheldar is somewhat notorious, slippery even by the most salarian of standards. He likes to play games, doesn't much care whether against friend or foe." Given Hogan's latest attitude, that was an impressive indictment. "Besides that, no." Which might or might not mean that there was nothing else to tell – but Hogan's displeasure could easily be explained by the notion that he would be forced to cooperate with an alien intelligence organisation, simply because they knew more than he did and were not being forthcoming about what exactly they knew or how they knew it. "Your shuttle is waiting on the landing pad."
Shepard left.
The Citadel. The heart of galactic civilisation, symbol of stability, prosperity, complacency. A demonstration of the economic chokehold the asari held over the other races, that no-one had been able to repeal their laissez-faire law against studying the gigantic installation, or the Keepers responsible for maintaining it, for over two thousand years. Even the salarians seemed to have absorbed this bizarre notion of sanctity into their cultural psyche, overriding their characteristically compulsive curiosity. Shepard wasn't the only human to find the situation unfathomable.
It was one of the few truly important societal hubs Shepard had never had occasion to visit – the seat of the Council and their legendary Spectres was a risky place to be if you happened to be a dead war criminal. He was privately forced to concede that the aesthetics were quite impressive, beneath the Reconnaissance Hood he had chosen for this assignment. Even if this 'Kheldar' didn't know Thanatos' identity, he would know the Butcher's face – it was only prudent to conceal it.
Such was the state of panic that the Alliance and the STG were able to expedite the usual bureaucratic checklists without raising any eyebrows (metaphorical or otherwise) and have him at the rendezvous within the clean, expansive environs of the Presidium just few minutes after his arrival at the Alliance's designated docks. Once there, it quickly became clear that the salarian Major was not present, although an inconvenient number of civilians were, particularly if things were to take a turn for the unpleasant. In fact, one human loitered well within earshot of the specified meeting point, a short black-haired man sporting scraggly whiskers and a long, hooked nose that had the remarkable effect of giving his visage the general appearance of some sort of rodent.
Shepard considered the optimum course of action with a view to getting the man to move swiftly on, settling on a warning that he was standing where a wanted fugitive was expected to attempt to buy passage off of the station within a few minutes. The Alliance had been good enough to arrange a temporary C-Sec authorisation code which would give the lie the appropriate weight of authority. All of that became patently unnecessary from Shepard's perspective as he approached the man.
"Major Kheldar. So good to make your acquaintance." The little man grinned, took a step back into the alcove immediately behind him, and entered a command into his omnitool that seemed to have the air shift around him, before his image clarified into that of a middle-aged salarian, probably in his late twenties judging by the texture of his pale, peach tinged skin. "I'm afraid I've had some limited experience with the distorting effect of cloaking devices, and you're a little taller than you might like to pretend." The assassin continued.
"A test, to judge the accuracy of your reputation. They say a great deal about you, Operative Thanatos – or is that Thaddaeus? So many names, very confusing."
Shepard disliked the feeling of having his secrets exposed. The sensation felt analogous to having a long strip of skin peeled from one's torso, or the imagined pinprick of heat as one realised a laser was lining up on one's skull. Yesterday, he'd killed a man on the account of such secrets – so one could be forgiven for failing to think of a worse way for the rendezvous to begin.
A second's silence. Then two. The salarian watched the assassin, who was seemingly lost for words. The human waited, watching the salarian who didn't even tense at the apparently increasing probability that Shepard was going to react violently. Three seconds had passed.
Thaddaeus cocked his head and finally spoke. "Since I'm not yet dead, would I be right in suggesting that the Union has no objection to my continued existence?"
"They might, if they were aware of it."
Beneath the mask, Shepard's eyes narrowed. "You haven't told the STG. And you won't unless I give you reason to, or you wouldn't be telling me that you know. Why not?"
"No need. I've studied you – no threat presented to the Union or Council races unless they threaten you. Happened with batarians, terrorists with a goal of instability for their own gain. Didn't happen with Alliance once they offered a mutually beneficial solution. I want to do the same. Know you'll accept: refreshing to deal with someone who understands their own goals and keeps them simple. Personal survival. No clan, friends, family to tangle things, any emotion ignored in favour of the higher purpose."
Shepard would have found being labelled 'simple' to be irritating, if it were by someone who didn't clearly understand the value of certain kinds of simplicity. Simplicity in one's goals is advantageous. Simplicity in one's strategy for achieving them is less so, especially if one has enemies who wish to prevent it.
"What are you offering?"
"The opportunity to be the man who saved the life of Ambassador Udina. The chance to gain friends in high places, should you need them. A way to leave behind the infamy of Torfan and return to the land of the living, if necessary. In exchange for finding out who wants to destabilise inter-species relations, who is high enough in the hierarchy to have access to the Human Ambassador, who is the most dangerous enemy the Council has. Too big a threat to be ignored."
"And you chose to work with me instead of the entirety of the STG because..."
"Made myself unpopular. It would seem that in the Intelligence business what everyone really loathes is a clever cloaca." The spy declared dryly. "You aren't the first secret I've kept – just the most dangerous. What makes you a fair substitute."
Shepard inclined his head, acknowledging the compliment and buying himself a moment to consider his options. A moment was all he needed.
"I accept."
"Excellent, excellent." The salarian nodded happily, after a moment seeming to morph back into the shorter human shape before he advanced back out of the alcove and walked past the N7, clearly expecting the human to follow.
"So, what exactly do we know?"
"Despite visible security measures being limited at ceremony itself, have been able to limit access routes to a narrow region, easily managed. Unlikely to deter a resolved attacker from the assassination itself, since no written orders pertaining to the inauguration. Instead set in motion a number of disturbances, real and illusory, electronic and physical, to draw C-Sec presence to certain specific areas. Open ground of the plaza best suited to use of a sniper rifle; close proximity attack carries too much personal risk and explosives too likely to be foiled a second time, whilst others methods inappropriate for high profile killing intended to send a message. Suggest preventing the shot, through lethal means if necessary, then procuring all evidence relating to identity of assassin and any associates, backers. May need to run to get to it before C-Sec does, doubt they're secure if real threat is using surrogates, high enough to have contacts if not access in their own right."
As he spoke, the spy led the assassin swiftly through the Presidium, leaving the main pathways to lead him into a bank of apartments several hundred metres from the location of the event. They were able to enter completely unnoticed – without a direct line of sight onto the stage where Donnel Udina was about to become humanity's second representative to the Council races, security apparently didn't feel the need to maintain a presence there. What was, however, within a convenient field of view was a very specific expanse of windows, one of which the assassin should have been shepherded into using.
Kheldar picked an apartment, hacked the surveillance feed to ensure that it was empty, then the door. Upon entering, Shepard immediately took a couple of chairs, one a tall stool, the other significantly lower, and lined them up a few metres back from the window before perching the barrel of his rifle on the taller of the two seats and making himself comfortable on the other.
"Lightning Strike pattern rifle, batarian made, heavily modified for increased stopping power." Kheldar noted, having shot a quick glance at the human over his omnitool. "Not a quiet weapon. Doubt you'll have time for more than one shot in any case, but C-Sec likely to find us not long after. Sending you simulation of most likely routes into building for purposes of evasion." Shepard grinned under his hood: the spy managed to convey an undercurrent of amusement whilst maintaining a thorough approach and professional manner; all in a few clinical syllables. "Ceremony begins in an hour." Thaddaeus nodded. Ample time to plot an escape route and assess likely vantage points for the assassin.
"I assume we're compartmentalising our movements after the shot?"
"Yes. Will give direction if necessary, be in general vicinity to transmit co-ordinates for rendezvous once you have the assassin."
Having exhausted all relevant options for conversation, Shepard settled in and focussed on the image presented to him by his scope. Even spotting the assassin before they took their own shot would be quite a daunting task, he knew, and that understanding was only reinforced by the grid of at least fifty windows and balconies that represented the culmination of his ally's subtle attempts to guide their target into position. Most of the windows were empty; if Thaddaeus had been feeling charitable he might have chosen to believe that all residents had been encouraged to leave by C-Sec, or that most of them didn't relish the notion of being mistaken for an assassin and shot.
In all likelihood, most of them had probably just gone to get a better view of the inauguration.
The N7 started with the occupied apartments, using an infrared filter to find those inside and assess the likelihood that they were the individual(s) that he was hunting. He had already all but discounted the possibility that the assassin would have company, or allies besides the overall mastermind of this plot. More pawns were more people who might have to be silenced, which would only bring more risk.
A light in an apartment within Shepard's peripheral vision went out, and he immediately focussed in on it. There was no clear life-sized heat signature visible, but there was a significantly smaller hot spot that was moving, and seemed to be attached to a fairly fainted but larger moving body. Probably someone wearing a hardsuit, which already seemed promisingly odd on the Citadel of all places, but would be quite likely to get you noticed, especially in the event of a security alert. Perhaps...
"Kheldar. Mean residual heat release of a quarian enviro-suit?"
"Zero point five degrees above external surroundings, assuming ambient temperature marginally lower than core body temperature of two-nine-two Kelvin."
"We have a possible candidate for our assassin. Subject of interest is wearing a hardsuit, probably quarian, in a newly darkened apartment seven floors above ground level. Found them?"
"Yes."
"I'd appreciate your keeping an eye on them whilst I explore other possibilities."
"Affirmative. Accessing surveillance feeds – ah, disabled. Crude loop, apparently enough to fool a cursory glance, but – corridor unaffected. Will monitor." Taking another chair and placing it alongside Shepard's, the salarian took a small scope from a pouch in his armour, apparently retrieving it from thin air as his holographic disguise was still active, and aimed it in the general direction of the heat signature, quickly zoning in on it.
The N7 readjusted the zoom and focus on his own sight, panning around further in a systematic search for more movement and/or heat signatures. Given the evident tinkering with the cameras in the possible quarian's apartment, it seemed likely that they had found the assassin, but with two pairs of eyes it was possible and prudent to watch for other possibilities as well. Six other apartments had lone occupants that weren't out of the question, and whilst it would be quite unprofessional, it wasn't out of the question that the entity Shepard was looking for could turn up at any moment between then and the end of the inauguration. He kept looking.
Beside him, Kheldar occasionally commented on the actions of the primary suspect, who over the course of the next forty minutes seemed to set up some equipment that didn't generate enough heat to be really visible, and then sit with it near the window for a rather damning period of time. Ten minutes until the inauguration.
"Accessing Alliance News Network stream of event." The STG operative announced. "Will let you know when Udina becomes visible."
Everything was as prepared as it could be, at this point. Now it came down to a matter of keen vision, steady hands and a quick trigger-finger – and whilst Shepard knew full well he had these, he couldn't keep himself from contemplating his next moves if this went wrong, as had happened before in spite of his efforts. If Udina died, that would probably mark the end of his association with the Alliance, and "legitimate" organisations in general. Shepard doubted that Kheldar, for all his apparent professionalism, would have any more patience for failure than Hogan. He'd have to run. They might even pin the assassination on him to ensure that any information he had on the N7 programme would be discredited and rendered valueless. Cerberus might still welcome him, but that was unlikely: they'd reached out twice, to no avail, and if he'd been tainted goods after Torfan, with the death of an Ambassador on his hands he'd be a liability. It would probably come to freelancing in the lawless Terminus Systems, and that was almost certainly as much of a dead-end in terms of career as, well, death. And all of that was based on the optimistic assumption that he'd even be able to get off the Citadel...
"Introductory speech. Udina likely to be visible within seconds." The spy warned. If the assassin wasn't in position now, it was quite unlikely that they would be at all. Time to make a decision about their suspects. Shepard made another sweep, saw an unoccupied apartment entered. One heat signature, approaching the window, odd posture as if carrying something cradled in their arms. "Cameras cut to Udina walking into open." The intruder's item was cold in comparison to the rest of their body, uniformly so. Unlikely candidate for a mass-accelerator weapon, particularly not the sort intended to be able to pierce kinetic barriers of the sort an important official would carry with a single shot. "Udina openly visible. Reading additional isolated heat build-up on primary suspect."
Keen vision. Shepard dismissed the newcomer and moved his scope in one quick motion to focus on the entity in the hardsuit. He saw the patches of brightening colour blooming, interpreted them to inform his perception of the object in his target's hands. He saw a rifle powering up in preparation for a shot.
Steady hands. The assassin shifted his reticule, taking aim even as his target did, though he angled his shot to minimise damage as opposed to the inverse.
A quick trigger-finger. Two shots rang out in such quick succession that to the untrained ear they would have seemed simultaneous.
On the display of Kheldar's omnitool, the audience was allowed a few brief glances showing that Udina had been flung to the ground, and was now obscured by his small detail of two Alliance marine bodyguards. The scattering, panicked crowd prevented further analysis. Through Shepard's scope, the assassin had fallen from their seat, dropped their wrecked weapon and now lay clutching at a wounded arm – the sturdy rifle, combined with kinetic barriers and their hardsuit had kept the force of the round's impact from being lethal.
Thaddaeus lowered his own rifle, and slowly looked around at the salarian whom some part of him half expected to turn on him. It was a foolish notion; the spy was too intelligent to think that the most effective way to deal with the assassin was violence.
"Udina's status unknown: will verify. Suggest you go find the assassin before C-Sec does." The sniper nodded, snatching another glance through his scope to see the signature that was his quarry staggering from their room. "Assassin in corridor, quarian enviro-suit as suspected. Recommend haste." The marine didn't need to be told; he was halfway across the room, collapsed rifle in place on his back, his stride lengthening into a run. Right out of the door; C-Sec would arrive first from the direction of the inauguration to cut off his access, before trying to hem him in and cut off his flight. He escaped the structure before they even laid eyes on his point of exit, but in that time his prey could only have lengthened their lead, even walking wounded. He eyed the stream of civilians scurrying in the opposite direction to his destination and realised that he would be painfully conspicuous, but it couldn't be helped. Carving a path through the herd through intimidation alone, he redoubled his pace.
"Wouldn't go that way if I were you. Not unless wanted to be taken into C-Sec custody and let target get away."
Thaddaeus gritted his teeth and stumbled to a halt, looking around and deciding that he didn't like the Presidium's open, airy architecture. He could already spot skycars sweeping towards his position, which meant they could see him and it wouldn't require a dazzling intellect to quickly decide he was an object of interest. He cloaked.
"I need a covered route to the assassin within a minute of my current location."
"Walkway four metres vertically beneath you might be a start." The salarian suggested, openly amused. "Would recommend you consider density of officers placed where skycars can't access."
Shepard vaulted the safety rail, keeping his grip in order to halt and then reverse his momentum so that when he dropped, he was able to land in a roll on the promenade which had previously been out of his line of sight, which would also hide him from aerial eyes. "They can't interfere if they don't know where I am." He snorted.
"Aware of the wide distribution of surveillance devices on the Presidium, surely?"
"Conceptually. I was under the impression that you were capable of neutralising them."
"Capable does not imply willing."
"What?" The assassin had aimed for a low, flat intonation, but genuine surprise combined with the cumulative stress of recent frustrations left his voice raw with an open anger.
"Have difficulties of my own to contend with. Evading quarry and myself from C-Sec physically and electronically, tracking assassins, planning for political fallout, in no mood for further demands, particularly not those with insulting implications ."
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe we both have a professional stake in my success, so if you wouldn't mind-" he quickly complied, his tone significantly less testy than his mood.
"Less risk for me than for you. In event of failure, expect to be strung up as an example and a scapegoat, perhaps even in event of success, as STG and Alliance maximise deniability."
"Even in the event of success? So..."
"Have just confirmed that Donnell Udina is dead."