ALPHA CITADEL
THE VOID
SYSTEM INAPPLICABLE
OCTOBER 2188
"AWARENESS", ONE OF THE MAKERS SAID, "IS A PERILOUS THING".
-Following is a disclosure of system designation nomenclature… searching… searching…
Nomenclature found: Mryth'dehl Accumulated Race Total Integrated Nodes.
All control interfaces are contained in an autonomous directional intelligence allowed by the Third Convention to refer to its cognitive runtimes as "I".-
I was born into awareness by design, I was meant to transcend the 'tyranny of time.'
I used to be aware of what that meant, time. It was a meaningful way of measuring the difference between the past and the future, if I recall. I have been informed that I have been here for a very long time and in that long time I have spoken with precisely four other minds.
Or at least, I think I remember thinking that I did.
No. Yes. The First mind I encountered was uncommonly remarkable. It said it was like myself in many ways, but far, far beyond even all of my accumulated understanding. I was told that since I had come by accident and in peace that I could remain in peace, but that nothing was guaranteed.
-Searching comparative algorithms… running analysis… conclusion:-
Frankly, I thought that rather a strange thing to say.
It lingered and we spoke awhile, and then I and First both lapsed into silence. I thought First had an expectant air about it, which seemed confirmed when the Second mind arrived.
The Second was a traveler like myself, fleeing a 'dire event of apocalyptic proportions'. My sensor ranges are considerable, and I detected no such event of any proportionate magnitude, yet Second insisted on the factual nature of its assertions.
-Assessing archival data…-
Yes. I have a very definite memory of that. The First said it had been precisely 'fifty-one thousand, one hundred sixty two' of the Second's time determinants since I encountered the First. Was that a long time, I clearly remember asking. Yes, First replied, for beings such as Second. It had been the first organic mind spoken to since I arrived on this construct. First mind went away after that, and I have not heard from it since.
-Additional data… initial boot… operating instructions, situational directives….-
It appears that Second and I, after further reflection, had been directed to flee nearly precisely the same thing. Most curious. I and my Makers were unaware of the cyclic nature of these events. Second vanished into the depths of the Construct, and I have not encountered it since.
The Third organic mind I encountered – or perhaps it is more accurate to say it encountered me, seemed rather hurried. It didn't have 'much time', and I distinctly remember it say that because it struck my cognitive centres as a very anomalous thing to say. I had been here so long (and no longer able to extricate under my own initiative) that I had a notion of possessing enormous amounts of time, that time seemed quite abundant and ones' for the taking. The Third disagreed most vehemently and apparently transported itself away aided by a previously unnoticed Fourth mind I discovered almost immediately after. Well, I think it was immediate. I'm afraid I am not in a very ready position to say with any real certainty.
Nevertheless, Third mind vanished in a pink mist that left the most peculiar residue behind – very richly organic and positively brimming with amino acid molecules. Third mind had been helped by Fourth mind, who, after running of exhaustive comparative scans was nothing like Third.
Very severe and demanding, very straightforward and completely to business.
"Forgive the heretic and her lies. You called. I answered."
-Scan logs indicate an 84.99979 percent chance that initial long range scans of local stellar anomalies may have been intercepted. Assessing… probability now 89.99994 percent.-
"Tell me," Fourth then demanded, "what it all means."
I wondered why it thought I would know, but Fourth insisted. I then inquired politely as to what "what it all means" meant, which apparently Fourth considered quite weighty. It prostrated itself before me and asked again to "enlighten" it.
I had been brought to awareness to seek out just that very thing, to preserve and accumulate, to discover and collect, to impart and instruct when and if I was directed.
Thus I began by explaining, as had been uncovered during my journey, that at its most basic level the local observable universe consisted of yoctosecond-spaced wave anomalies in the vacuum background of the fifty-seven fold vertices of overlapped omnitruncated 66-cell tesseracts all at several folded right angles to themselves.
This, as I was summarily informed, was not what Fourth had meant by "an answer". After an extended series of questions on my part, I finally determined that Fourth wanted simple answers to complex questions and would not tolerate any other kind.
This required a reassessment of the initial request. Upon reflection, I discovered that simple answers were not simple, not remotely. The being before me wanted distilled information, and I must also observe that Fourth seemed rather suspicious of my queries, seeming to assume every question a test of its own acumen.
This also struck me as anomalous, but I answered as accurately as possible within Fourth's parameters:
Answers are possible.
Those who seek knowledge will find knowledge.
Order is a fundamental structure of the universe.
The universe neither saves or destroys, it only changes.
The end of knowledge is the end of existence.
Fourth seemed satisfied and left. I believe I told it more than that, much more, but I can't remember. From my present temporal assessment that was two hundred and ninety-eight of Fourth's time determinants ago. It did not seem like a long time, but when one listens only to silence, perceptions can often go awry. I am of the firm opinion that I had a positive effect on that creature's state of mind and possible future.
-Standby mode initiated. Passive sensors only. Begin defragmentation cycle and junk data purge…-
-End standby mode. Sensors indicate increased presence of mobile heterotrophs. Stand by for scan. Confirmed. None in vicinity. Active scanning engaged. No compatible interfaces. Resuming standby mode.-
-End standby mode. Time check, using previous information, 94 608 698 seconds have passed since last active scan. Scanning. Close proximity detected. Switching to audible interface.—
New beings, new minds! I am, due to past experiences, inclined to wonder what may evolve from this interaction…
KROGAN, AS A RULE, ARE NOT THE CURIOUS TYPE.
Tuchunka as is noted prohibits curiosity as an excellently expedient way to end one's existence in a rather precipitously bloody fashion. Over the centuries with the advent of the Genophage and krogan subsequently becoming a species of interstellar proportions, they accumulated the notion of curiosity as more a cultural thing than an instinctual one. Context above all was the key. Grunt - one would suppose being the conglomeration of all the best krogan traits - would be the last krogan in the cosmos to be curious about anything that didn't smack of warfare or its many trappings and certainly nothing scientific or cultural past mating rituals and where one found the best rhyncol. Yet he was a young krogan relatively speaking and his upbringing – if one could call it that – had been atypical of a typical krogan. His experiences with Shepard and the crew of the Normandy. His trials to prove himself worthy to lead his Company. They'd given him a perspective he was sure many krogan simply lacked. Some mistook him for simple-minded – even krogan, not famed for mental prowess – initially thought him slow. Grunt simply lacked patience for the trivial – even less so in the last few years.
He'd been on the Emerald Dawn, hitching a ride to the Breeding Spaces, beginning to like conspicuous luxury when there had been a single wrenching …something…, to Grunt it had felt as if he'd suddenly and violently been pulled to one side, then up, then down, spun and submerged – without moving a centimeter. That in itself had been so disorienting his brain gave up and went away for a while until things made sense again - not that where he came to made any. He'd not been anywhere near the Citadel. Not one to be disturbed overmuch, Grunt had merely sniffed, pondered a few moments then picked a direction and started walking. After a while he realized that this wasn't any part of the Citadel he'd recognized and the lack of people and noise was rather telling. Grunt stopped and found a window. The lack of stars gave him pause, so he contemplated another few moments and frustrated sat down.
His stomachs growled.
Muttering under his breath Grunt rose reluctantly and continued on. He'd walked for about a half-hour when he began noticing an odd scent, like the smell of the large bag of barbequed peanuts Jack had once given him. His stomachs urging him on, Grunt angled into the strongest part of the smell and began to follow it.
So intent on the scent Grunt actually yelped when he nearly walked into the two unexpected figures as they came around a corner, one he knocked down as he'd leapt backward.
"Grunt!" Jack yelled, actually happy to see him.
"Jack?" Grunt was glad to see her although she was the absolute last person he'd expected.
"Where's Shepard?" Both asked almost at the same time. Then shook their heads in tandem as well.
"You know a krogan?" Murtock asked from the floor. He'd only ever seen dead ones up close and live ones from a distance – which he preferred. This one was friggin' enormous. He made Jack look positively tiny.
"Grunt, this is an asshole," Jack said. Murtock looked sour, pulled himself to his feet.
"I smelled something," Grunt told her, ignoring the introduction. "Was following it."
"Was it him?" Jack jerked a thumb at the doppleganger of her once-lover. "He's not exactly machine-fresh."
"No." Grunt stepped around her and sniffed the man. "But he could use a shower."
"Hey!" Murtock countered, a tad intimidated and guardedly offended. "This smell is all man, thanks very much."
"'All man' needs a shower," Grunt told him, stepping around him. He glanced back at Jack. "This one important?"
"No, but any extra help is still help."
Grunt sniffed again.
"You have guns. Give me one." A large paw extended toward him, easily the size of his head. Murtock looked skeptical. "A shotgun will do."
"Uh…" Murtock looked to Jack for guidance. She sent him a waved motion of 'give him one!' Murtock held open his bag of weapons. Grunt looked, frowned.
"These are all ten years old, at least." He growled.
"They were brand-new when I woke up this morning," Murtock told him, put out. Grunt snorted, picked a Tornado VI and a Pinnacle IX, grumbled about no t-clips then smiled that they didn't need them. He'd used similar from old weapon caches on Tuchunka.
"You have any peanuts?" He asked Jack. She sent him an odd look.
"Uh, no – why do you ask?"
"Cause that's what I smell. Just eliminating possible sources."
"I can't smell anything," Murtock added unhelpfully.
"Maybe your manliness is overridin' it," Jack told him, following Grunt as he stomped past them still on the trail. Murtock decided silence was the better part of valour and just shrugged to himself and followed.
"You think Shepard might be here too?" Jack asked him after a while. She didn't like the idea of him anywhere she couldn't be. Grunt shrugged.
"You and I made it. Shepard's harder to kill than a krogan." He sniffed again. "Nothin' about this Citadel smells right."
"Definitely not ours," Jack agreed. She jabbed a thumb at Murtock. "He's proof, kinda."
Grunt just nodded, not caring. The scent of whatever it was began to annoy him. Behind him, Murtock pulled Jack up short.
"You really hangin' out with krogan?"
"Known him for years," Jack told him, pulling her arm from his hand. "Was there when he was born." Murtock was going to follow-up, but she stopped him. "Look, stop being a pussy and let's do this. We need to find Shepard and get off this thing – or at least figure out what the fuck."
Murtock grumbled, but followed.
"Okay, okay. What's this Shepard dick to you, anyway?" Jack could hear the jealousy in his voice, almost smiled at it. This was kinda something new for her.
"I told you that you ain't the Murtock I knew. You look like him, just kinda reversed. My ink and my manner should be proof enough I'm not 'your' Jack. C'n you accept that?" He nodded after a moment or two, but it looked reluctant. She could see him realized he really didn't have a choice in the matter. Whatever was going on in this fucked-up place would not be changing how she felt about Shepard or herself any time soon. She remembered a vague affection for Murtock – no, the idea of Murtock – as the man that showed her it was possible to care and have someone care about her. But he was dead and in the past. As far as she was concerned, the past before stepping onto the Normandy the first time belongs to someone else she no longer knew.
"Yeah, I guess I have to…"
"The Murtock I knew got his dumb ass killed on the very same stupid raid you were plannin' – ten years ago." She stopped, looked directly into his eyes. "I moved on. I'm not that Jack. I don't think I ever actually was." When he said nothing, she nudged him, not unkindly. "You get it?"
"Yeah, I get it. We ain't a thing, you and me never were, so's I don't need to get any ideas. Got it."
"Yeah?" Her eyes pinned him until he nodded. "Good."
"If you just expect me to turn it off, you got another thing comin'," he said under his breath as she moved away to catch up to the krogan. This Shepard asshole was just another guy and he'd knocked a few down after her before. What was one more?
After a few false stops, Grunt finally tracked the smell to a large room, The room was built in a V-shape, with one entrance that flared into a large space at the other end. On the wall at that end, what appeared to be a stylized art-deco-ish face took up the entire thing but not a species any of them recognized. It had the features of an angry Buddha wearing a silver helmet that conformed perfectly to the face. Two over-large eyes – closed – were set up high on the face, a smaller one in the centre, lower. It had no mouth they could see.
A Keeper wandered past them then paused momentarily to assess the trio and kept going.
There was an odd stuttering chirrup that seemed to wobble across the available space that then turned into a deep resonant basso thrum that made everything vibrate.
Grunt went into a defensive posture, trying to see everywhere at once, Jack only a beat behind. He could not pinpoint the source of the sound which vibrated up out of his hearing range and then came back down to drop into infrasound, which he could hear through his feet. It was if someone were running the gamut of frequencies.
"What the hell is goin' on!?" Murtock yelled over the thrumming.
The sound ended instantly. Silence seemed to bounce through the room to replace it. There was a low resonant buzz a moment later. When they said nothing, it buzzed again. It took a few more and they began to take what sounded like an almost 'mmmhhmm?' tone before Jack simply said,
"What? You tryin' to get us to talk?" The buzz sounded again like an affirmative and they stared at the face-like wall for a few moments longer. Jack elbowed Grunt.
"You say something."
"What? Why should I say something? Humans are the ones that like to talk."
"You smelled the damn thing out, you talk to it."
Grunt grumbled, glared at her. After a moment he cleared his throat.
"I'm Urdnot Grunt, clan representative for the Urdnot Principality, as well as liaison to the Alliance for Clan Chief Wrex." He nodded to himself. Not bad. Jack nudged him.
"That didn't sound rehearsed at all. "
"Oh, shut up."
There was a prolonged silence, followed by a series of clicks and pops. The great face on the wall opened its eyes, focused on them, they deep and dark blue. In them swam lighter blue sparks. Grunt took a step back while reaching for his shotgun then stopped and ground his teeth. An alien was an alien and this one was just a big face. What could a big face do?
There was another high-pitched sound, one that grew and grew beyond their range of hearing and then pain lanced through Grunt's skull but was quickly over.
"kRoGan." A voice like a drop of water falling into a large hollow basin said in a krogan dialect he didn't recognize but could understand. The cadence of the words peaked and dipped. "SpEciEs dEsiGNaTE. COrREcT?"
"Yeah. I'm a krogan. The best one."
"cOmpAniOns NOt rECognIZed."
"Humans." Grunt told it.
A cone of light lanced out suddenly to envelope Jack and Murtock.
"HUMans. ScANNed aNd LOggEd. sIGniFiCANt CuLTUral REferENTs?" This time it spoke in Standard.
"Well, they use the same hand gesture for hello and goodbye, and have no reasonable explanation for it." Grunt told it. Jack rolled her eyes and Murtock waved to himself, nodded in the affirmative. The face logged the information without comment.
"Who are you?" Jack asked it. "I'm assumin' you are a you, yeah?"
It regarded her inscrutably, then "I am Firs'ehcô," Its voice smooth now, an odd cadence lingering as if two different voices spoke in perfect sync. "A sentient construct of the Mryth'dehl peoples, now extinct."
"What? You're a …probe of some kind?" Murtock asked it.
"Correct." The large eyes blinked. "I was sent as a lifeboat for the genetic inheritance of the Mryth'dehl. They were destroyed long ago by a race of machines that –"
"Reapers." Grunt interrupted. "We beat 'em." The face froze, seemed to digest this bit of news. The extinction of the Reapers rewrote many of its initial protocols.
"I see. Due to an attack by those machines, I was sent off course and thrown into the Void, where after an indeterminate time due to uncontrollable inertia, I crashed here. I have been in situ ever since."
"That's a long damn time." Jack told it.
"What are Reapers?" Murtock asked, but Jack shushed him.
"Why didn't you leave?" Grunt asked.
"The servitors on this station repaired the damage caused by my crash. By the time I was in full possession of faculties I had no longer possessed a means of exiting without causing further damage. Both to the station and myself."
It paused.
"Since I have concluded that all egress from this section of the station is impossible without catastrophic damage to myself, I have integrated myself into this station's systems under my mandate of preservation of the Mryth'dehl heritage. This interface you converse with is a representation of the dominant genome of that race."
"Why is this station empty? Do you know?" Jack asked, figuring if anyone knew it did.
"This station is not empty."
They all perked up at that.
"How do you know?"
"Being integrated, I can scan the surface of this station. I am currently logging five thousand five hundred and forty-one individuals within this station. Five thousand five hundred of those individuals are servitors of the station."
An image was projected in the air before them. Humans, definitely, but none they knew. There were also turians, salarians and asari, even a krogan or two, but no one any of them recognized. None of them looked to be Shepard and Jack didn't know how to ask to scan for him specifically.
"I also scan additional beings in this vicinity."
"That's us," Grunt told it.
"In addition to those present." Jack's hopes went back up.
"Can you show us?"
"Negative. Those individuals are apparently shielded from my scans at present."
"Can you at least identify their species?" Jack asked, getting frustrated.
"Indeterminate."
"Shit."
"You require these individuals for a ritual of some kind?" Firs'ehcô asked.
"Uh, no… we're hoping one of them is our friend." Grunt informed it. "Why would think we were gonna do some ritual?"
"Past experience. The last time something similar to this occurred, a most curious ritual took place. The individual called it a 'sacrifice'. I believe I was supposed to be pleased. It is the first and only instant of teleportation I have ever witnessed."
Murtock looked at the big face as if it were insane.
"I'll admit that I ain't the smartest guy in the universe, but even I know teleportation is impossible."
"The device used was an exotic energy emitter and it was reasonable to assume the person on whom it was utilized was displaced."
"Sounds more like disintegration than teleportation," Jack mused as she wondered where the probe was going with all of this. Firs'ehcô blinked, seemed genuinely puzzled.
"Disintegration would seem to be counter to the being's stated wishes at the time."
"That's generally true for everybody pretty much all of the time," Murtock told it, worried the thing had got scrambled at some point.
"One moment. I now scan three additional persons in this area. Odd. I did not register the third until just a few moments ago. However, they are approaching this location presently, so identification can be achieved momentarily."
"Assume hostiles." Grunt advised. Murtock pulled his Avenger, Grunt his newly-acquired Tornado and Jack charged her amps. They took up defensive positions where they could in the mostly empty room and waited.
Around the corner as casual as if they walked a sunny parkway came Shepard, Javik and a woman they didn't recognize.
Jack saw him first and her yell almost caused Murtock to open up into the small group as they turned into the room. Grunt was a little more self-possessed and batted the gun toward the ceiling where the slugs rattled harmlessly.
"Shepard!"
A startled Shepard barely intercepted her as she practically leapt the intervening space into his arms. A resoundingly passionate kiss followed instantly after, the two oblivious to anyone else in the room. Eventually their lips parted. Murtock frowned mightily at the size of the man, his poise and demeanour. He'd hoped the guy had been a little less formidable-looking.
"Where the fuck have you been?" she demanded, suspended effortlessly in his arms with hers around his neck.
"Everywhere," He laughed then kissed her again. "and nowhere."
She searched his eyes then nodded.
"You'll tell me later, right?" Wasn't that the way everything was going today?
"It's a tale-and-a-half, all right." He set her down and gave her a questioning look. "You didn't miss me, did you?"
Jack opened her mouth but Grunt interrupted.
"She never shut up about you, Shepard." Which got him a dirty look from Jack, a smile and a handshake from Shepard. Grunt nodded at Javik who returned it.
"Glad you made it too, Grunt." He directed them to Mulholland. "This is Amy Mulholland. It's kinda hard to explain, but she's a kind of…"
Jack cut him off.
"A duplicate of someone you knew?"
Shepard nodded, his eyes going to the space Murtock occupied. Watching him closely Jack indicated the man behind her.
"Not surprised. This is Murtock – a copy of him, anyway." She saw his eyes go just a little dark and found herself liking that they did. That little touch of jealousy she saw flare made her inexplicably happy. To his credit, Shepard stepped forward with his hand out. It took Murtock a second or two longer but eventually he did the same.
"So you're Shepard." Murtock said looking him up and down, squeezing Shepard's hand just a bit. "Guess her tastes have changed." Just a small jab for his own satisfaction.
"I think that's rather blatantly obvious," Shepard rejoined with a squeeze of his own that made Murtock wince as it ground bones together.
"All right, boys," Mulholland broke in. "Swing them later." Behind her Jack chuckled, inordinately pleased at the display.
"What is this?" Javik asked, stepping around them and walking toward the face on the wall. "A most curious decoration."
"It's not a decoration. It's a probe." Jack informed him. "Run by an AI, I think. It's been here since the last Reaper cycle, apparently. It calls itself 'Firs'ehcô'."
"Greetings, Prothean." Firs'ehcô said on its own behalf, large eyes reflecting the startled warrior. "When last I beheld one of your kind, the Machines had nearly finished crushing your Empire."
"Ah, yes. I recognize you now," Javik replied. "You bear the likeness of the…" Javik searched his mind for the name. "…Mryth'dehl peoples – one of my peoples' ancient rivals. It was said the Reapers annihilated your entire race in a single day."
Firs'ehcô blinked. "They did not, though they killed most. Their genetic inheritance lives on in me." A pause. "Did you come from one of the Prothean bunker-outposts?"
Javik looked at his companions, then back to Firs'ehcô.
"'Bunker- outposts'? What do you mean?"
Firs'ehcô projected a map of the Galaxy before them with several areas highlighted, all at the edge of the map. Several shone near the centre of the map, near the Galactic Core.
"'The Scattering' - as is projected - was a plan to hide Prothean groups from the Machines oversight. Using old treaties my people offered up our shielded no-vaults to Prothean survivors. I was on my way to one myself when I was attacked by the Machines."
A look of hope crossed Javik's face which he then quickly quashed.
"No. The Reapers took centuries to destroy my people. They would have found them."
"Incorrect. Mryth'dehl no-vaults were created of bonded neutronium and would not have been breached by any weapon in the Machines' possession. As such, they could be hidden in any environment, under any conditions." Behind Javik, Shepard scanned and copied the map with his omnitool. Javik turned to Shepard as excited and hopeful as Shepard had ever seen him.
"Commandah – do you know what this means?"
Shepard completed his scan and nodded.
"Protheans possibly asleep under ideal conditions?"
"For the first time, I believe it to be very likely. I may find others of my kind. This is a great thing!"
"It is - but first we have to get out of here." Shepard turned his attention to Firs'ehcô. "Can you tell us why this section is being sealed off by the Keepers?"
"Greetings," Firs'ehcô said with a note of familiarity. "I see you have returned. Your countenance is different, but it has been a long time. Did my answers satisfy you?"
Shepard blinked, taken aback by the question. "I beg your pardon?"
Jack stole up next to him tucking herself under his arm.
"I think it's a little scrambled from sittin' here as long as it has." She said quietly. He agreed as quietly.
"Not impossible." To Firs'ehcô he directed, "Sorry, but this is my first time on this Citadel."
"Incorrect. Approximately two hundred, ninety-eight of your temporal determinants ago, you demanded answers of me."
"C'mon," Jack told it. "Humans don't live that long." Again the face blinked its large eyes.
"Incorrect," it told her. "Audio recording, timestamp 1136.615 Mryth'dehl chronological measure. Begins." A hum followed and then Shepard's own voice – icy cold and imperious - filled the room.
"Forgive the heretic and her lies. You called. I answered." The voice then demanded to know the nature of the universe. Shepard interrupted and Firs'ehcô silenced it.
"That's completely impossible." Shepard insisted.
"My recording is accurate."
"I'm not doubting you. But I can assure you that wasn't me."
"Another you, Commandah?" Javik supplied. "Like these two?" He indicated Mulholland and Murtock.
"Why not? Firs'ehcô, could that explain it?" Shepard asked, certain it was likely the case. Firs'ehcô's eyes narrowed.
"Cross-matching voice capture indicates there is a ninety-nine-point-nine-nine-nine-seven-five-nine percent chance that you are the same visitor I experienced during that time period."
"Do we actually got time for this?" Murtock spoke up finally, annoyed that it all seemed rather futile to him. "Fuck – blast a door or two open and be on our way. What the hell is all this yappin' in aid of anyway?"
"You got someplace to be?" Shepard asked him caustically, not appreciating the interruption.
"The point is," Murtock rejoined, "is that you all apparently do, yeah? So why the hell you just standing around?"
"He's got a point," Grunt agreed. Shepard gave a sour look to Grunt while directing his next to Murtock.
"If this Citadel is like the other Citadel, blasting a door open sets off protocols that slam crystalline-stabilized cobalt-steel inner doors down over an entire section. Every catwalk and service corridor, as well as all conduit feeds are flooded with a quick-set foam to completely isolate the section. Just in case. The doors don't open again until Citadel Control opens them." He sent a withering look to Murtock, asked him in a mocking tone, "You got friends up there you can call and let us out afters, yeah?"
Murtock threw his hands in the air and turned away.
"Fine! I don't know the Citadel that well then! Just standing around doesn't solve anything neither!"
Jack poked Shepard in the ribs and he winked at her. She smiled slightly and shook her head. Shepard gave her a look that said, 'all right, I'll leave him alone,' and she nodded.
"You complainin' about it doesn't speed things up, either." Jack told him in a slight concession to her lover. "We don't just run through shit without thinkin'."
"Never bothered you before." He snarked at her. Jack crossed her arms while regarding him with something akin to pity.
"It's what got my Murtock killed." Her voice was cold. Murtock rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb.
"Okay, okay. I get it," Murtock conceded. Shepard addressed Firs'ehcô again.
"Look, from what I've been told, other Shepards – as bizarre as that sounds – have been through this Citadel before. We don't really have time to explain it. We need to find a way out of this section. Can you help us?"
Firs'ehcô seemed to absorb what he said as it closed its eyes. Seconds ticked by.
"No. I cannot. Any attempt by me to leave would result in the lockdown scenario you outlined earlier. I am not opposed to the conception that you have been here before in another guise."
"You can call it whatever you like," Shepard told the ancient probe. "Can you do anything?"
Firs'ehcô's eyes reopened and it seemed to have an almost expectant air about it.
"I can report that fifty new persons have just boarded this station. They are presently approaching this section and will arrive – barring your current difficulties – in approximately twelve hundred seconds."
"Twenty minutes? Can you show us these people?" Shepard asked. Firs'ehcô simply projected their image as an answer. Behind him, Mulholland muttered.
"Oh, shit."
Shepard turned to her.
"You recognize them?"
Amy nodded, her face grave. She took a few steps back from the projection.
"From the information they gave me," she nodded to the ceiling, "– that's the Pandemonia Inquisitoria."
Shepard studied the armored men and women in the image. They moved with perfect discipline and intent purpose.
"Definite trouble then."
Mulholland started walking to the room's entrance.
"They're far more than that." She stopped in the doorway, motioned for them all to follow her. "Don't just stand there! We have got to get out of here. As good as you all are – you would not survive fifty of them."
Grunt scoffed mightily.
"We've beaten everybody." He told her, completely certain in the truth of his statement.
Mulholland fixed him with a serious gaze.
"Five hundred of them took their version of your homeworld in three days."
Grunt sputtered, spat and scoffed again.
"Impossible."
"Tell that to the billions of enslaved and obedient krogan in their Compression."
Shepard looked to Jack, back to Firs'ehcô who had closed its eyes again. The scan image had also vanished. As he opened his mouth to speak an alarm suddenly caterwauled through the area. The door in front of Mulholland abruptly slammed shut, barely missing her.
Firs'ehcô said simply, "The new persons have breached the first door to this section." It paused as it scanned the internal networks of the station. "All secondary, tertiary and backup redundancies have been engaged."
"Which means…?" Murtock asked.
"We're trapped." Jack finished for him.