Thessia
Twenty down, a hundred and eighty recruits to go. Resisting the temptation to rest her head in her hands, Sanar dismissed her assistants. When the last of them exited through the door did she finally let herself slumped back in her chair and reflected on the cross examinations. It was as she suspected. All twenty recruits saw and heard nothing. Their attention was focused on carrying out their orders for the exercise. It was doubtful the rest would have anything meaningful to contribute since they were stationed a distance from the event.
Her assistants had sifted through suit recorders, acquisition, storage, maintenance, disposition of every item, from personal to hardware. They turned up nothing. So where should she go from here?
Picking up one of the datapads before her, she read the report on the artifact found in the SA officer's hardsuit. A target tracer. Restricted and regulated, small and thin as a fingernail, it was a favourite device often used by commandos to track targets. It was also used by security agencies to track suspicious individuals. It was also an assassination tool.
There was no manufacturing mark on it. The composition did not match specialised registered stock. According to the technicians, it was fabricated by hand. Unlike most tracers, there was one basic function to it. One was all that was needed. There was only the one human in the company. In one of the findings were the techs absolute, whoever had created the tracer was Asari.
That led to the next problem. The tiny trace of cells left behind in the circuitry was enough to identify it as Asari. As to whom, there was no identification match in current archives. With centuries of precious data and census destroyed in the Reaper War, whatever there was in the archives at the moment was contemporary with no surety that the records they now hold were legitimate. So where was she to go from here?
It was difficult not to pick Nyrine as the prime suspect. Though not the lone voice among those with reservations about the TI campaign, the captain's actions marked her out as a dissenter in the military ranks. Too conspicuous, Sanar decided. Still, Nyrine could not be ruled out.
Heaving a sigh, she collected the datapads and locked them away in the security safe in the office. It was getting late, further investigations would have to be put off till the morrow. Six hours before the chronometer marked a new day. She was dreadfully tired and hungry. The corridors were empty when she left the office. The academy was locked down pending the investigation. Trainees were confined to their dormitories, leaves were cancelled. No one except senior officers were at liberty to wander. The curfew would be lifted once the investigation was completed.
Deciding to forego a shower and a change of clothing, she made her way to the entrance, stifling a yawn as she did so. Using her omni-tool, she placed a call for a cab, wishing she still had her own skycar. But in such times, one had to go without certain conveniences. While waiting for the cab, she placed a call to a favourite diner. She was too tired to cook and a good meal was what she needed. To her disappointment, there was no available table. Not in the mood for company, she declined the suggestion of a commix. She searched through the list of restaurants and picked one that had dishes she liked.
As she placed the reservation, the cab arrived. Not inclined to drive, she keyed in the destination, selected a piece of music to listen to and sat back. As the skycar sped through the city, the bright lights below shimmered on the windscreen and windows. Shadows formed and danced in the headlights of other skycars in the lanes. She watched the shadows at play and was drowsing off when a beep from the car console alerted her of her approaching destination.
When she stepped from the skycar and saw the holosign of the restaurant, she realised her oversight in not checking out which establishment she was heading to. Relying on an empty stomach as a pathfinder to good food was a bad idea, especially if the eatery in question was on the fancy side. Though not in the scale of the finest and famous eateries that were the rage pre-Reaper War, it was considered one of the current best on Thessia. She debated with herself for a moment before stepping to the entrance. She could afford to indulge herself. She spoke to the hostess who appeared from an alcove when her intent was clear.
As she followed the hostess down a narrow corridor that bypassed the main aisle, she could hear the strains of a musical ensemble. It eased some of her weariness. Entwining Airetsi, their network of vines shimmering in the soft lights, swirled along and around the alcoves spread across the floor of the restaurant before flaring over the central ceiling in a delicate motif. She was impressed. The motif could only be wrought under the hands and mind of a highly skilled horticulturist. Seeing it uplifted her spirit for here was proof that not everything of her people was lost in the war.
A quartet of musicians was ensconced in the performance bower. The magic of their wind instruments imbued a cosy lilting tranquility in the atmosphere. The diners, judging by the number of heads turned in that direction, were obviously enchanted. Sanar could see that the restaurant warranted the high marks. Would the food be as good? Sanar hoped so. There was nothing worse than to find the flavour of the main course more suitable for the bottom of a garbage heap despite all the beautiful dressings. Even so, she would eat it. In present times, food was precious.
The hostess led her to a corner alcove and adjusted the height of the table to her liking. After an inquiry, a bouquet of flowers that was blooming beautifully in hues of blues, reds and cream in the light of the small table lamp was moved to face inward, ensuring the privacy that Sanar requested. Shoving her carryall under the cushions, Sanar perused the menu datapad. There were so many dishes that she was hard put to make a choice. After several long minutes of picking and discarding, she made her selection and sank into the floor cushions, letting herself float with the music. Emptying her mind of the problems she was carrying around for the day, she relaxed completely.
The tempo of the next piece of music changed, replacing the casual lilt to one of warmth and passion. A soft laugh drew her attention. Looking across from her alcove, she could see a couple seated in another private alcove. Their heads bent towards each other in a clear poise of intimacy. The sight reminded her of another duo. That morning after that drinking bet with Shepard, she woke up to find herself in a strange bed with an irate matriarch standing over her. Introducing herself as the housekeeper of the T'Soni estate, she did not mince her words to let her know she was in bad colour for having gotten Shepard home reeling drunk. That was news to Sanar, she thought it was the other way around. Nevertheless, she offered her apologies and was directed to the dining room after cleaning herself up. She found Shepard who apparently did not suffer much for her indulgence, with Liara.
She had stood at the doorway of the dining room, silently watching them. They were both looking out of the window into the gardens. Shepard was resting her chin on her bondmate's shoulder, enfolding her bondmate within her arms from behind. From what she could see of of their little caresses, the hand on Shepard's face, she knew they were communing through their bond. She was envious. Liara T'Soni was beginning the second stage of her maiden cycle but she had reached a level of maturity and accomplishments that few maidens attained. She wasn't unique, there were others who walked the path of their careers early but she was the first of her generation to have reached so high.
Liara T'Soni was also one of those few rare maidens to form a deep attachment that young. Once she thought such an attachment was hers to grasp in her maiden stage but she found it was not so. It was merely a moment of fantasy that she soon shook free of when she found she couldn't make the commitment. Now that she was in her matron stage, she thought she would find that special someone. So far she hadn't.
When she made some noise to announce her presence, both Shepard and Liara looked towards the door. She was totally disarmed by their warm welcome, their ease with her. How should she describe it? She was not sure she could.
Goddess, I'm so so ... jealous.
No. That wasn't right either. In truth, she felt lonely. For companionship. For that one person with whom she could share her entire being with. She wondered if she was inadequate.
Sanar you fool. It is different for everyone. The harder you crave for it, the worst it'll be. It will happen when the time is right. I can hope I would find that kind of bond they have with each other.
The arrival of the waitress with her food was sufficient to draw her away from her moody introspection. The soregei, fresh vegetables in spicy creamy sauce mixed with fish and grain, was a delight to the taste buds. It was followed by slices of a variety of sweet and tart fruits delicately sprinkled with dried petals of Casor. Replete, she sipped from the glass of water she had chosen instead of the few wines that were available. She had no desire to cut her palate on alcohol that was a year old. Well pleased she would end the night with a fine meal, she stretched lazily, basking in the warm lassitude of contentment of the moment.
It took a while for her to realise that the music had changed to a woman crooning a slow song. It sounded familiar. Who was it? Picking up the menu datapad, she checked the list of entertainment programs but found no singer listed. Probably a recorded audio. She shifted to the edge of the alcove and peered out. The performance bower was empty. Disappointed, she ran her eyes over the other diners. Not that she could see much of them, illumination was kept to the bare minimum with the Airetsi providing separation and decoration. In a few months, the plant would bloom, further enhancing the ambiance. Perhaps she ought to return here then, to savour the flowers.
As she was about to turn away to settle back into the cushions, a pair of Asari passed by. Her spine stiffened when she recognised Nyrine. Or thought she did. Frowning, she looked out and drew back quickly when they paused to speak to the hostess. It looked like Nyrine but what was she doing here?
Stop it Sanar, she came here for a meal too.
Who's the matriarch with her? Suspicions about Nyrine came flooding back. She tried vainly to push them away but failed. Plainly, unless her curiosity was satisfied, she would be nibbling at it restlessly for what remained of the night. Coming to a quick decision, she thrust her hand under the cushions to grab her carryall, took another peek and exited her alcove. She reached the entrance as Nyrine and her companion vanished through the doorway. The hostess who saw them out turned to her and enquired about the food and service. Keeping it short but polite, she assured her that the meal was perfection as she slide her omni-tool under the payment scanner and walked out once the bill was settled.
Glancing left and right, she spotted Nyrine and the matriarch strolling to the parking lot and followed after cautiously, keeping to the shadows of trees that lined the streets. At this late hour, there was no one to observe her strange behaviour so no alarm should be raised. As the lights of floating glow lamps shone on them, Nyrine would glance at her companion now and then as she chatted. Her profile was clear to Sanar, further confirming she was not mistaken. What caught Sanar's attention was how relaxed Nyrine was. There was none of that inflexible carriage often associated with her. Her companion did not turn her head. Sanar wished she would, at least before they reached the parked skycars they were heading for. She darted from tree to tree and around bushes hoping she would have a better view of the matriarch.
Peering from behind a tree, she tried vainly to catch a glimpse. She wished she had a viewer magnifier. The pair got into a skycar and left, leaving her to rue the lack of a skycar of her own. By the time she got a cab, they would be long gone. As she stood there, staring after the vehicle, racking her mind on the image of the matriarch to get some kind of a clue, her senses prickled and then shrieked in alarm. Instincts took over. She rolled to the side, dodging the invisible wave of a biotic throw. As she got to her feet, a body slammed into hers. She bounced hard off a tree before she fell to the ground, gasping as her lungs emptied. Her vision whirled.
A glowing arm infused with biotics rose. Instinct and training took over. She kicked out, rolling to her feet, gulping in much needed air as she struck out and saw her assailant clearly for the first time. Her opponent was an Asari in a hardsuit with no insignia. A detail that her subconscious filed away, as the way she was attacked was noted. A mercenary? The blow she struck did not contain much of her usual strength, winded as she was. It was brushed aside easily. She parried a thrust heading for her chest, dodged another, then swiped at the legs of her opponent with her own. The Asari leaped and cast another biotic throw at her which she again dodged.
A grin lit up the Asari's face. Plainly, she was enjoying the duel. However, Sanar was not. If the mercenary was working for Nyrine and the matriarch. If they were responsible for the death of the SA officer, her life was in danger. Ducking another strike, she pivoted. Grim satisfaction flashed through her when her elbow jabbed painfully into the other's back. She tried again for her legs when the other staggered. This time she succeeded in the attempt. Her opponent fell onto her and launched into melee attacks so quickly she realised that the other had allowed the blow to connect so she could get into close quarters with her.
They grappled, struggling to gain ascendancy as arms, elbows, hands, legs and feet weaved into various forms of latching holds and blows. Sanar knew she was up against an elite when the other left telling strikes on her. A hard jab in her middle left her winded it disrupted her intended attack and left her open. A hard hand snapped closed around her throat. She tried to generate a field to throw off the other who was now forcing her down. As if reading her intention, the hand tightened, closing off the air. She grabbed hold of the arm but was unable to prise it off. She tried to throw a uppercut but it was brushed aside. The pressure increased around her throat. As darkness overwhelmed her, she stared defiantly back at the Asari whose wine-coloured eyes regarded her with a curious light. Was that respect? Her world darkened.
Omega Nebula
Sahrabarik System, Urdak
"If you have to stammer, I advise you to do it elsewhere."
Sim Retok froze. The cool drawled threat was enough to dry up whatever words he was trying to say. He coughed as sudden phlegm collected in his throat. The steel glare from the purple hued Asari lounging in the armchair dared him to let it loose, assuring him that it would be the last action he would take. Wilting, he swallowed the mess back down, wondering if he would make it out the door if he made a break for it. It was no more than a fancy. Not with the mixture of Human, Turian and Batarian mercenaries in the room who could easily make several dozen holes in him before he could take a step.
Watching him, Aria T'Loak reined in her impatience. Sorry specimens like the human before her would never have come near Afterlife, much less near enough for her to smell. But that was glory days before the Reaper War, before Cerberus. Now, she had to put up with the surviving riffraff from those gangs that opted to fight than to hide. The brave and foolish died, leaving behind their sycophants whose only skill was lip service. Like hapless moths, they fluttered uselessly about, dashing out one another's brains before finally finding a haven. Her haven.
"Well?" she snapped, eyes narrowing when he jumped.
Taking a deep breath, he tried again. "I need more men to crew the freighters."
Relief swamped him when he managed the sentence without a trace of a stammer. Wiping his sweating brow with a grungy sleeve, he rubbed his nose with a grey-black hand before he realised she did not say a word, only stared at him with the cold promise of death.
"I know I said I would have the warning buoys placed in another two weeks but some of my men have disappeared. I don't know where they went," he said in a desperate rush, eyeing the nearest Turian who was running his fingers along the barrel of his shotgun.
"With that reek coming off you, they'd run down a Keeper hole," the Turian snarled, eliciting chuckles around the room.
The disdainful insult was ignored. Sim kept his eyes on Aria, knowing his life was hanging on her next word.
"Your tardiness will be discussed another time," she said. "I want you to drop the buoys elsewhere in the next two days." There was no sound from the human, he blinked at her as if he didn't understand what she said. "The Black Gate. Put them three klicks from the translation zone."
There was a stir in the room but no one dared to venture a question.
"Only the Black Gate?" he queried, hardly believing his luck when she nodded regally. "I'll get to it at once!"
With that, he turned and left, forgetting that he was supposed to wait her permission. It suited her fine to have him leave, the odour was beginning to get to her. There was a perceptible cool freshness to the room. Someone took it upon himself to increase the ventilation. If only it was as easy to remove the remnants of her hated adversary.
She brooded. Recognising that look, the mercenaries took themselves to the edges of the room or to the bar. They knew better than to talk too loudly when she was in this mood. They also knew what was eating away at her. Omega. None dared speak of it in her presence but they all knew why she lost the station. They didn't fool themselves that it was concern over bloodshed that made her relinquish the place but that she was not the rapacious sort to blindly waste lives and resources in a hopeless fight.
Aria ignored the muted conversations. She knew what it was that kept the mercenaries on their best behaviour and what they thought. Her dominance still held strong but that still didn't change the fact that she was not canny enough to recognise the playbook of the Illusive Man. Years of careful planning and more years of careful control that ensured her authority in the Terminus Systems, undone by implacable superior forces.
She had sworn revenge, to take back Omega. With insufficient forces and ships to achieve her goal, she retreated to the Citadel to gather the forces she needed to get back her turf. Before she could set in motion her plans, the Reapers arrived. Although not as skeptical as many others to the claims made by Shepard about the impending invasion years ago, she revised her assessment of the situation once assured that the synthetics existed and that they had arrived. Who could deny it when there were thousands of witnesses in the shape of refugees who poured into the Citadel in the misguided view that they would be safe on the station.
The forces she would have used to retake Omega were redirected to aid Shepard in the war against the Reapers. Cerberus she hated but the behemoth synthetics were the immediate danger. Even if she succeeded in taking back Omega, she doubted she could hold on to it for long against the Reapers. The terrifying avatars of a cataclysm. The odds of the galactic community surviving through it was practically nil. Shepard had proven her wrong.
It was fortunate her network gave her enough warning to leave before the Reapers arrived to take over the station. Not that her sources actually knew they were coming but her agents were disappearing too fast. That was enough to tilt her inner senses to screaming point. She opted to leave but not before sending a warning to Tevos, knowing that the rare message from her was implicit enough. Her next destination was a problem before she chose the most outlandish choice. Some would have said she was crazy but it was the only safe choice.
Scouting parties were sent to one of the moons around Urdak where she had a subterranean hideout. She had prepared it the moment when she took control of Omega. Following the examples of many other crime bosses; build safe houses and stockpile. Urdak was next door to Omega, now the exclusive property of Cerberus. All the better for her to lay quiet and keep an eye on the development of the system and the station. If there was any attack from the Reapers, Cerberus would be their target.
When she learned from Shepard that the Illusive Man had thrown in his lot with the Reapers, she was taken aback. Lunacy. She'd never thought he would take that step. Still, it was a pleasure to know his ambitions, arrogance, cupidity and bigotry led to his downfall. That cut down her self-imposed missions to half. She sent parties to take control of the lay over stations at Imogan and shifted her operations from her hideout when the war was over. Re-taking Omega was however, no easy task.
When Cerberus took control of the station, many of the inhabitants who could, fled. Knowing of the experiments Cerberus conducted on sentient beings, once again she had Shepard to thank for that, she was under no delusion as to what would have happened to those who didn't run. Her fears were borne out when her first boarding party was cut down before they took many steps past the airlock.
No more were sent. She could ill afford to lose the men she had at the moment. There was no one she could call upon to aid her. None who would be interested in a share of Omega. Not when it went without saying that there was a high possibility of TI and dangerous bio-contaminants within Omega. To clear a station of that size, layered with districts, factories, apartments and all kinds of warrens, she would need an army or a highly specialised infiltration force.
She had chosen to build up her forces, inject as much impetus as possible to revive the galactic market, seeded her spies around, secured as much of the Sahrabarik system as she could, waited and observed the TI conflict. There was no TI among her own people. She made sure of that, calling in favours when the new scanner algorithms became available. New security measures were put in place. She had every one medically scanned from head to foot. Those who resisted were killed.
How long would she have to wait for the opportune moment? The TI conflict was going on well for some and worse for others. The Humans and Turians were making great strides. That was typical of the Turians though the Humans were more relentless. That was a word she never thought she would ascribe to them. Her own people on Thessia however, were dragging their feet. She knew who to blame but she was powerless to effect a movement to eject the incumbents weighing down the TI campaign. She would have to leave that to the others.
The Allied powers were extremely worried over recent TI developments. That was not surprising but if her agents were right, one particular faction would have to shift part of their focus and Omega would become the focus. She planned to plant her claim quickly when the opportunity presented itself. Getting up from the armchair, she moved to stand at the windows, staring contemplatively at the stars.
I wonder if Shepard could pull off another miracle once again and end this senseless TI conflict.
Local Cluster
Unknown Location
Such a small chip. Miranda held the tiny device up to the light. Tiny but deadly. Morale busting if the victim knew he was carrying it. What did they feel when they lost control of their bodies to commit acts of murder and destruction? Terror? Kind of late to start thinking about it but wondered she did now, looking at the chip she could not see with the naked eye. How blithely she accepted that they were necessary. An essential part to the grand scheme of furthering and consolidating human interests. How absolute her convictions were. Granted, she did not use any of the chips in the projects she handled but that did not entirely absolve her.
Putting the chip under the macro scanner, she examined the structure of the circuitry before comparing it to data she had loaded in her workconsole. The design was vastly different. More organic was how she would have described it. The older chip schematics were clunky in comparison but safely dull and mechanic. The new chip boasted of nano circuitry she had never seen before. There were strange organic like filaments extensive in the structure. Though shrivelled in the corpse, the filaments were clearly spread into the cellular structure of the brain with hook-like tendrils. Perhaps it was to change organic function or to draw energy from the cells. A shiver ran through her when she remembered the surgery that was conducted on a Cerberus corpse. There were odd tiny tracks from the device that ran through the brain to the eyes. The entire orbs were covered with strange bluish circuitry. Eyes that were more mechanic than organic.
Frowning, she wondered if it was the same process through which Reapers produced their advanced husks without the Dragon Teeth. Nano-machines using the body's resources in the process of conversion. In the Cerberus troops, the conversion was redirected and changed to enhance obedience to whichever master they were programmed to obey and increased their physical attributes like strength and reflexes.
Someone coughed softly behind her. "Miss Lawson, call for you in the comm room."
The interruption was timely, she needed a moment of distraction. Stretching a stiff back, she closed down the console and locked the chip securely in the laboratory vault before strolling out of the lab and down a long corridor. All manner of personnel moved through the corridor. Mostly researchers in grey white suits. A pair of deliverymen pushed their hovercarts slowly through the crowd, their orange and white coveralls standing out against the white. Most prominent of all was the dark blue steel grey of hardsuited SA marines posted at the end of every corridor and the entrances leading to sensitive zones. The ubiquitous security scanners glared. The overblown security was stifling. She doubted a microbe would have a chance of escaping from the research base.
Up to the comm room she marched and halted at the hatch. The marines didn't ask for her identification, their eyes fixed on her like hawks as she was scanned. She could have stuck her tongue out at them and they wouldn't have responded unless the alarm shrilled. It didn't happen of course. The hatch slide aside. As she stepped in, it closed behind her. Not surprisingly, the image of a SA captain awaited her arrival. Other than her, there was no one else in the comm room. She walked within range of the vid pickup.
"Miss Lawson," he greeted. "I'm Captain Dorrin."
"Captain, how can I be of assistance?"
"I'll cut to the chase. I'm sending you medical data taken from a prisoner." A holographic image of a brain sprang to life on the screen before the comm console. "Of interest is this particular artifact found embedded in his brain." The image enlarged, the frontal lobe highlighted. It was further enhanced and she found herself looking at a chip. An old one but there was something odd about it. "Can you identify it?"
"It's a control chip." She activated her omni-tool, scrolling down the data she called up. "Series CCE2 that was used between 2176 to 2178. These chips are usually programmed with a simplistic set of definitions."
"Can you specify what they are?"
"Subjects were usually selected gambits, part of the targeted organization. Implantation took place without consent or knowledge that such an operation ever occurred." She couldn't read the captain's face but thought he looked frosty. "The primary parameter was usually to acquire data or activate a planned chain of events. As such, their program was not long term. At the most, a span of two to three years."
"What happens to the operatives after the objective is achieved?"
"They were usually eliminated-," looking at the image, she frowned, "but this one..."
"He's alive." Dorrin said grimly. "If his objective was already achieved, could he be programmed with new ones?"
"Yes but it would be difficult. This chip did not have the flexible features in the newer models. Can I.."
"Thank you, Miss Lawson. I'll advise you of further developments," he interrupted her before she could ask to have schematics of the chip and the identity of the prisoner. He ended the call abruptly, leaving her to wonder what emergency had cropped up at his end.