Pylos Nebula
Dirada System, Siano
Stifling a yawn, Tyler blinked away weary tears from strained tired eyes. Hardly had the first died away when his mouth gaped open in another. Wiping his eyes dry, he glanced over to the chronometer. Ten minutes before his watch ended and he could hand over his station to his replacement. Rubbing a stuffy nose, he rotated his head slowly, stretching stiff muscles before returning his attention to the console screen. Scan data continued to flow in an endless stream. Not a single anomaly was picked up. None over the last ten days. At this rate, they would be rejoining the rest of the 71st at Asteria Station before the forenoon watch unless the captain wanted another look at the inner asteroid belts.
Sweeping asteroid belts were like trying to herd incalcitrant goats, most going at a fixed orbit with the rest veering and jumping out of their niches whenever a foreign body come swimming in from outside. Corrections to data had to be made constantly. He was certain the captain would make another sweep at another trajectory to be certain there wasn't any clever boltholes the bad boys could sally forth to plague Asteria. It was all good but he was ready for rack time and he could hardly wait.
As he glanced towards the chronometer again, the alert sounded. As he reached automatically for his chair restraints, the deck heaved and everything kaleidoscope into confusion. The first thing he was aware of was that he was suddenly metres away from the console he was sitting at. His back, elbows and shoulders stung. As he stared dumbly at the tilted chair, loud wailing clashed in. Ship alert. Before he could move, his right arm was grasped. He stared into the face of the chief navigator who looked him over before pulling him to his feet.
"Back to your station!"
He lunged for his chair as the navigator hurried away. He swayed back and forth from the sudden shift of gravity when the deck heaved again and again. Stumbling forward, he grabbed the back of his chair before falling into it, strapping himself in. He grabbed the helmet racked at the side of the chair and put it on. The ship was under attack. His heart pounded but his hands were steady on the console, every fibre of his being alert to orders from the captain and the situation around the ship.
He didn't think of what was hitting them, what was happening out there. Another lurch, someone cried out, something sizzled the air. He didn't look away from his console screen, shoring up primary systems as they began to fail. The tense low exchanges behind him wove like a familiar litany.
"...close up."
"...port fuslec valves damaged."
"...sealing aft compartments "
"Scans picking up numerous DRAs (diffuse radiator arrays)..."
"Pattern matching cruisers and occuli..."
"Incoming Callies!" The whole ship vibrated as several torpedoes impacted. "Gardian turrets at 50 percent capacity."
The captain's tense voice, cutting through all the others. "Helm, try to shake some of those fighters loose, loop behind one of those big rocks if you have to. Give me the Ladar (laser detection and reading) at ..."
"Multiple bogeys. Third wave callies coming in."
There was no time to fear. Tyler worked as quickly as he could, plugging up the leaks sapping the ability of the ship to defend itself and fight. Continuous impacts pounded at the kinetic barrier. It was failing rapidly. The strikes were cutting off vital systems. Several of which was in the red, particularly the Gardian turrets. The number of fighters out there were so many the turrets could not keep up the rate of fire. Part of him wondered why the captain wasn't pulling out. Were they surrounded? He wondered if they would make it. Something inside him whispered they would not.
"Gardian turrets at 20 percent."
The ship vibrated more violently, someone screamed when consoles exploded. The air was filled with smoke. The automatic fire retardants responded, adding more miasma to the air. Tyler's attention narrowed down to what was before him.
"Deck two OOC (out of contact), engineering reports damage to drive..."
The ship shook so hard it felt as if it was about to come apart for the deck was vibrating intensely.
"Data core dump, TD (time delay) beacon, launch in ten seconds and fire all torpedoes."
The captain sounded calm. It was the last dance, everyone on the bridge knew it the moment he ordered the TD beacon. Nobody ran for the lifepods. No one bothered to seal their helmets. They knew who they were up against. No one wanted to live to face the horrors of indoctrination and experimentation. They stayed at their stations, pulling every single bit of data off their consoles, feeding the probe till the last second before launch. He did the same. There was nothing else to be done, no time to think or feel, except his duty in those ten seconds. The beacon would eventually be picked up. They would be long gone but the Systems Alliance would know what had happened to them.
"Probe launched. Firing all torpedoes."
A console exploded to his right and he ducked instinctively, shielding himself with his arm. The deck pitched and all sounds vanished. Something hit his helmet, he felt the crack. Pain lanced across his chest, he gasped before screaming when that pain dove agonizingly deep inside him. Something gave way within and he knew no more.
The silent fiery fireworks ruptured spectacularly and briefly. Parts and pieces spun, propelled by the force that rend them apart before crashing and burning in the gravitational pull of the planet. Several went caroming off the asteroids before joining them in their eternal orbit, drifting in silence.
Local Cluster
Earth, Citadel
It was not meant to be there. For several hundred millennium, no one knew how long, it had dwelled in the Widow System, swimming in gasses of the Serpent Nebula. Home to several million sentients, it was the diplomatic, cultural, commercial hub of the galactic community. Seat of the Citadel Council. The seat of central government of the galactic community. Now it was anchored permanently in geostationary orbit around Earth, a shadow of what it used to be. The inhabitants of Earth were not asked if they wanted such a satellite. Those on board the station were not asked if they wanted to move to Earth. The choice was not theirs to make.
The conquerors were not kind. Emotion was alien and irrelevant to them. It suited their purpose to do as they willed. No one knew why they chose to transport the station to Earth orbit. Why didn't they shut down all the mass relays once they had the station? Perhaps they decided to have a quick short fight to the last protracted cleansing 50 000 years before, allowing their prey to gather and come at them all at once. If they had intended to scoop up the galactic community in fell swoop along with Shepard, it did not go the way they intended.
With their demise, the Citadel remained where they left it. No one had any idea how to return it to where it once was. No one was much inclined to make it their business to do so after the war. Living was more important. Food, water, shelter was the priority. Not moving a space station that was not going to fall on anybody any time soon.
With most of the major cities in ruins, the Earth riddled with contaminants and wreckage, there was no question of bumper crops in the coming seasons or even laying the foundations for new habitats. There was hardly any able local administrative bodies left. The political leaders of the Parliament were long since killed, hauled off and indoctrinated and died in the war. The Systems Alliance was the only figure of authority the survivors could look to. Part of the survivors were sent to the Citadel while the Alliance scouted and repaired stable city structures in less polluted zones and settled the remaining survivors in the enclaves.
Food was scarce in the months that followed. Most had to survive on paste as the SA scrambled to balance the needs of the survivors and their troops from the stockpiles. Attempts to seed less toxic regions for farming failed so they had to look to the agrarian colonies. Asteria became the life blood and food basket of several homeworlds and colonies. That had lifted the pressing issue of food but it was not enough. Thankfully, the Quarians and Geth came forward with a few proposals to the afflicted homeworlds.
Quarian liveships were re-purposed into hydroponics and grazing facilities. Whatever livestock were available, they were put into the ships. Before they were eaten into extinction, was the unspoken sentiment and carefully husbanded. Vegetables, grain, eggs and dairy products were the practical standpoint of victuals. Portable generators, power cells, water filtration, prefab materials, medical supplies, the SA tried to provide as much as they could to settle the survivors before turning their attention to the clean up process. With the Geth doing much of the groundwork, London was cleared of Reaper remains and processing centres and resettled. A security grid was set up around the beam conduit and kept off bounds. The cleansing spread outward from there, slowly but surely.
The Citdael presented several problems. The ward arms were damaged and could be repaired but there was a period of uncertainty as to what should be done with the enormous piles of corpses. Some felt there should be attempts at identification of the bodies before burial but the numbers were too great. There was no way of keeping the bodies around indefinitely, short of tethering them in freighters out in vacuum until they could be retrieved.
Some suggested powering down one of the wards and depositing the remains there till later but it was not met with much favour; no one wanted a morgue in their backyard and the problems that could arise. Finally, with much sorrow and regret, representatives of each race was asked to attend a mass ceremony before the bodies were gathered and loaded into derelict freighters to be pitched into the sun. That was, whatever bodies that could be found. No one knew if the Keepers had already removed a number into the protein vats. There was no interest in finding out.
With the Reapers gone, the dark purpose behind the Keepers crippled, the docile creatures were left to carry on the tasks they were doing for thousands of years; maintaining the space station. The only thing left to oversee was the repair of the larger damage to the ward arms of the Citdael. Suggestions were put forth that the Keepers might have the means to do it themselves. However, as there was a possibility that larger parts might detach to fall to the planet below, the SA sent in the crews to ensure it did not happen. Slowly, the survivors both on the planet and the station picked up the bits and pieces. Scarred and haunted but determined to rebuild their lives.
Sitting in his office in what used to be the Earth embassy, Admiral Colin A. Langdon magnified the vid he was viewing and grinned at the large flocks of fowls rushing eagerly across the neatly clipped grass. Feeding time. Animals were such simplistic creatures. They were a bit messy at times but at least they did not harbour the intelligence to plot and kill. He flipped the vid back to the outside view of the Quarian liveship in orbit around the Earth. He sighed and turned his attention back to the reports on his desk, wishing they were accounts of progress, not destruction. Wishing his predecessor had survived to handle the load he was trying to juggle but unfortunately, he was killed when Arcturus Station was destroyed. He himself had hardly warmed the seat of Captain for a couple of years before someone saw fit to kick him up the depleted ranks.
Until they came to realise what they were dealing with, there were confusion over the riots, raids and attacks on SA troops, depots and on the Citadel. Initially, the brass and the Council thought the violence were protests at the failure to succor the needs of the survivors. Then they found out that the TI were behind it. The discovery shook them up and nearly plunged them all into anarchy. No one dared to trust the other and none could come to a consensus on what ought to be done. When the solution was found to separate the TI from the masses, still, arguments raged back and forth.
The old man cut through it all, lay down the cold hard facts and the ultimatum to the survivors. He began the purge on his own planet with the newly elected Parliament backing him up. Whatever support the Geth needed to clear each zone; marines, gunships, heavy tanks, drones to root out and destroy TI strongholds, they were sent. In a strongly worded message to the marines, he exhorted them to put aside their doubts, their weariness; to build a better future, they had to keep forging forward in this war. For the TI had no hesitation themselves. Slaves to the masters they served, their only goal was to see an end to those who destroyed the Reapers.
Whatever the marines thought, there was no dissension. The rate of clearance was going faster than the homeworlds of the other races. However, it was reaching saturation point for the marines. It must come to an end soon. The Admiralty, Hackett knew that. There was only so much stress the human psychic could tolerate before collapsing. Going from one massive conflict to another so quickly and closer to home was an erosion of soul and body. The soldiers needed to rest, recuperate and heal.
Hackett chose to fire up the local TI conflict quickly instead of sitting back on lengthy debates or planning out a circumspect campaign. He used the momentum of the Reaper War to push back the TI as much as possible before the SA forces become enervated, before they could pause to look around them and balk. When they finally have to halt, the TI would find they had nowhere to go. Fervently, he hoped the Ilos expedition would come up with an answer. They all needed one, not just the humans.
Flipping through the reports, he rubbed his brow wearily. More sabotages. Not from the TI either, but from those with blood ties or misguided sympathy. The TI agents were clever, sowing rumors and misinformation that took root before they were discovered. Public arrests had further fueled many misconceptions despite media announcements about the TI.
Despots, dictators were the kinder names flung at the SA. Others joined in for the heck of it, because it was the Systems Alliance, preached and spread false information. More chaos. Worse of all, to add to the cauldron of unhappy stew, there was Cerberus. He wished he could pluck them all up and turf them out in dark space. Leave the rest of the good fellows to live in the peace they sought to bring about.
The beep from his intercom interrupted his train of thought. He hit the answer key. "Yes?"
"Councilor T'Annor would like to have a word with you, sir." His pale fish of an assistant blinked owlishly at him.
"Patch her through." He straightened his tunic quickly before the councilor appeared on the screen.
"What can I do for you, councilor?" he inquired politely, trying not to stare too hard at Tevos. He found her eyes and facial markings fascinating. Of the many Asari he met, he found her rather appealing and often had to make an effort to make sure his thoughts didn't leak into his face and words when they confer.
"Admiral Langdon," she greeted. "I have a matter I would like to confer with you over comm Alpha-niner."
His brows twitched in surprise but he switched to the secured channel as she requested. "What is it, councilor?" He was sure he would not like what she was about to tell him.
"I'm sending you a vid from a merchant freighter." She looked down at her console. "This was taken via omni-tool in the Arinlarkan System, in the lower orbit of the planet Utha."
"Omni-tool? Were the sensors damaged on the freighter?" Langdon frowned as he ran the vid. The recording was mediocre. The best he could make out was the navy-blue ocean of the planet in the background. He pushed resolution as high as it would go.
"Sensors were unable to detect the ship as the freighter itself was already leaving the planet." Tevos forebore to point out a freighter did not have military grade sensors. "The cargomaster saw it from the aft viewport in the cargo compartment." Her eyes twinkled with gentle amusement when his brows beetling steeply. "The ship is highlighted," she added helpfully.
"Ah yes," he muttered when a crude hand drawn circle appeared. He boosted enhancement to the maximum and froze when he saw the silhouette. "Where did you say this ship was at?" he said disbelievingly.
"Omega Nebula, Arinlarkan System, Utha," she repeated before adding. "Admiral, is this ship what I think it is?"
"It's... when was this vid taken?" Feverishly, he called up the deployment operations of the SA task force on his console.
"Two days ago. Admiral, there are two other ships I know of that have the same configuration," Tevos said slowly. "The first was destroyed in 2183. The other appeared under another flag in 2186, both under Shepard's command."
"There is another frigate of the same class as the SSV Normandy," Langdon corrected, "the SSV Ain Jalut but she's nowhere in the Arinlarkan System. Not unless someone managed to sneak her out from dry dock. The Normandy SR2 is currently at the Armstrong Nebula. "
The old man was going to jump when he hear about this.
"Then we have a problem."
"We do," he nodded. "Who sent you this vid?" he asked, curious about her informant. He was sure it did not come by her usual sources. The location was a dead giveaway.
"From someone at Omega Nebula."
He didn't like her evasion. "Councilor."
"It's-," she thought for a moment, considering the ramifications. "Aria T'Loak," she said finally. "Admiral," she continued before he could speak. "The Systems Alliance might want to call a conference soon in regards to recent developments of a certain faction and the TI. At present, this faction has a base in the Omega Nebula that should be looked into. I will also refer to an event in 2185 when Shepard traversed the Omega Four Relay on the Normandy. It would be appreciated if Shepard and those who went with her to attend as well."
"It might be difficult, she..."
"I know the mission she is currently undertaking. However, in light of the ramifications of this sighting, I believe this current issue has to be resolved quickly."
"Councilor..," he began to say before he switched tack. "Tevos-," he leaned forward, "what stance is the Council taking?"
"I cannot say at the moment," she hesitated. "My advice is to act immediately."
"Noted. Thank you, councilor."
Great. Just great. The continual existence of Cerberus was not public knowledge yet but it would soon be once the rest of the Council caught a whiff of that vid. Connecting the dots between the TI and the Cerberus was child's play. Even if there's no concrete evidence, the Systems Alliance would be taken to task for failing to stamp out their own bogeymen. Leaning back in his chair, Langdon ruminated for a moment before placing a call to London and was put through quickly to the old man's office.
A spartan looking office popped up on the screen, much like his own. The lines on Hackett's face seemed more pleated as he listened to Landon's report and viewed the recording, his face darkened. For a moment, he said nothing.
"She has it right, we have to take control and resolve the situation quickly," he rasped. "They have the specs for the Normandy and easily replicate more with their shipyards."
"What if they didn't build it but used parts instead?" Langdon suggested slowly as a suspicion formed. "Sir, I'm thinking we should send someone to check out Alchera," he suggested.
Hackett nodded in agreement. "Put the SR2 on this one. We need to know what they're up to before those dogs go on stage. Right now, my best guess is that they're grooming and sharpening their teeth. Draw up a small taskforce to look into this."
"Sir, I know it's our problem but we're stretched thin," Langdon pointed out.
"That's why she suggested Shepard." Hackett sighed heavily. "We dropped the ball, Langdon. We should have done a cleaner job. Now it's our task to make sure we put out the pests we failed to exterminate in the war."
"What's the situation at Ilos, sir?"
"From the latest update, the expedition has found the entrance to the main core beneath the settlement complex. The freighters have already left Asteria Station and should reach Ilos in a few days. We may have an answer soon," Hackett said.
"Sir, I think we should send in the 71st, 75th and 78th flotillas to recon Omega Nebula before we take the next step," Langdon said.
Fleet Admiral Nowak was not going to be happy to learn his frigates and another unit were diverted but it couldn't be helped. He knew Hackett was loathed to pull Shepard away from a task that was as vital as stamping out Cerberus. Sending in the frigate flotillas would give them a little more time to maneuver, gather more information, reshuffle the fleets and make discreet inquiries with the Turians and Salarians.
Hackett nodded. "Do it. Right now, we can only hope those dogs lie dormant a little longer so Shepard could shake out a final solution to the TI."
"Yes, sir."
"Did Tevos say how she came by this information?" Hackett asked curiously.
"Aria T'Loak, sir." Langdon was startled when the older man gave a bark of laughter.
"You might want to ask that pirate queen to lend a hand."
"I was thinking of that, sir but-," Langdon said slowly, "I'm of two minds as to whether we should."
"She has a stake in that system. Hamstrung she might be at the moment but she is resourceful. I believe we both have what the other needs. Go directly to her, she'll appreciate it."
"I'll do that, sir," Langdon said doubtfully.
"Good. Langdon," Hackett added, "when was the last time you saw a razor?"
Langdon stared at the blank screen. Right, contact the pirate queen. However, he had no idea how he was supposed to do that when the woman didn't leave behind a contact number when she vanished from the Citadel. He smacked his head after a moment. Tevos, of course. Some naval intelligence chief he was. Perhaps he could use a bit of break time. He had been stuck in the office for what seemed like days now, going through file after file. Incidents kept piling up. Especially with the latest fire on Thessia; the death of the SA officer sent to assist the Asari military. Trouble was brewing over there. TI or some political bullshit. There were hints of internal conflicts within the Assembly. Whoever the perp was had to know they were shearing dangerously close to shredding goodwill cooperation. Perhaps they didn't care for it?
Rubbing his hand over his chin, he winced at the prickly bristles and realised what Hackett meant. He had forgotten to slap on the inhibitor that morning. His face was now covered with stubble. Perhaps that was why his assistant was giving him odd looks. Mouse of a fellow. He wondered what the Asari councilor made of the dark shadow on his face.
Colin, get a life.
Heaving a sigh, he turned to his console, mentally composing a message. On impulse, he typed it and sent it to Tevos without double checking his wording, and then instantly regretted it. He hoped he did not say anything silly since he was thinking of the councilor's lovely figure.
Colin, you've gone utterly mad. What's gotten into you? Hard up for women? You have to hit on the Asari councilor, do you?
It was too late to retract the message. At best, he could plea temporary insanity if she asked about it. Perhaps post-war-syndrome; where some soldiers wanted someone to talk to, to listen to his ramblings. Perhaps he should have his head examined for trying for someone who was older than his great how many times grandmother. Exasperated with himself, he got up and left the office. He was going to get some food and then sleep for eight hours to make up for the lack of the last few days.
Thessia
When Zelenia asked how the investigation was going, Sanar had to regretfully report there was not much progress. It was the truth. She hadn't been able to track down the perpetrator whose cells were found in the tracer. She had the cells compared against that of the recruits. There was not a single hit. It was a wagging trail that led no where.
She turned over all the evidence and data to the Systems Alliance investigative team when they arrived three days ago. Nyrine was her usual obdurate self such that one of the humans couldn't resist throwing the most provocative questions at her. Most surprisingly, Nyrine handled the questions calmly and the session ended with no incident. She brought them out to the training site and arranged for interviews with the recruits. Everything the SA team needed and wanted was seen to immediately.
It wasn't a surprise when the Humans reported that their combing efforts came up as fruitless as hers. They were clearly not happy they were as stymied as she was. The case was left open until something turned up. The most important concern to Zelenia was that the Humans would withdraw their support but apparently, they were prepared to do the opposite. The Alliance affirmed they were committed to aid in the training of the recruits and would accordingly appoint another officer. Zelenia had then declared that the next SA officer would stay at the academy instead of taking to the field with the trainees. Sanar would oversee the practical sessions.
Sanar supposed the next target would be herself if whoever was behind the attack was determined to undermine efforts to employ the new doctrine and delay the campaign. How long could it go on? What could they possibly hope to achieve by delaying the retaking of Thessia? Was it as simple as shielding the TI in the hopes they could be returned to the fold? Tried as she might, she couldn't think of any other reason. She stared at the glass of wine before her.
"Buy you a drink?" a familiar voice murmured behind her. She was expecting to hear it. It sent a tingle through her. "Ydrisaro." It was pitched low but those seated at the bar counter heard it, glanced at them in a moment of curiosity and then away.
"What're you offering?" Sanar looked over her shoulder at Hiaras, meeting her wine colour eyes. That tingle increased to warmth. The commando was not in hardsuit, Sanar saw. She was dressed in a flowing mid-thigh tunic and slacks.
"From my own stock." Hiaras handed her a small crystal flute, removed the cap before sitting on the stool beside her at the bar. "What I managed to save."
"Is this-?" Sanar stared with awe at the deep golden glaze-like liquid, barely a thimble full. The bouquet of the wine was strong and keen in her nose. The other patrons near them craned to look, murmuring and casting knowing looks at them as they admired the hue of the alcohol and sniffed appreciatively.
"From the monastery, yes." Bringing her own glass against Sanar's, Hiaras tipped it lightly to produce a tiny sweet clink. "Drink."
"It's too-," Sanar began to say, taken aback for the worth of the alcohol was more than quadruple on the current market rate.
"Not to worry, it's the most basic pressing." Hiaras nudged her hand. "Drink. Or I can just-," she looked around the bar, "offer it elsewhere."
Grins flashed at that suggestion. Hands waved tiny gestures at Sanar not to refuse. Almost reverently, Sanar took a sip. The rich flavour and sweet spiciness almost took her breath away.
"How old is this?" she gasped, feeling tears welling up before blowing out a breath to clear the tang.
"Not the oldest in my collection." Smiling, Hiaras took another sip. "It takes a while, take small sips."
"This is going to spoil me," Sanar said after a while, doing as instructed.
"That's the idea," laughed Hiaras.
The sound sent shivers down Sanar's spine. Looking at her glass, she saw there was a little bit left but already, she was feeling the effects. That expansion of the senses, making her acutely aware of the presence of the commando next to her. She shivered again when Hiaras bent close to her.
"I've more where that comes from. Interested?"
"Are you trying to get me drunk?" she demanded in mock outrage.
"Only if you want to. This bar can do better." Hiaras nodded to the bartender who shrugged but smiled at them knowingly.
"For such an amazing drink, why not." Sanar downed the remainder of the wine.
Hiaras chuckled before removing the crystal flute glass from her hand, dropped it in a small container and tucked it into her tunic pocket. Taking hold of her hand, Hiaras pulled her away from the bar, out the front doors and to the carpark. The pace she set was too hasty for Sanar, feeling somewhat befuddled from the wine.
"You don't have to-," she began to say when they reached the carpark and stiffened in shock when she was brought up flush against Hiaras.
The next thing she knew was warm lips against her own, a hand on her spine and fingers running along the sensitive ridges along her neck. The wine she drank seemed to boil in her stomach, spreading heat. This was going too far, too fast, she thought wildly, fighting to cool her desire when Hiaras ran her mouth along her neck. That was, until Hiaras threw a dash of cold water on her.
"I was afraid you would say or do the wrong thing," Hiaras whispered. "There're two standing at the entrance watching us. How about putting your arms around me?"
Swallowing her disappointment, Sanar tried to make her movements smooth and natural as she wound them around Hiara's back.
"Aethyta is waiting for us," Hiaras murmured without ceasing running her mouth down Sanar's neck.
"All right." Sanar wished the other would stop already since they were play-acting and get them away. It didn't help that she was still feeling flickers of desire. It must be the wine, she decided.
As if she knew what she was thinking, Hiaras chuckled. "Sanar T'Enaire, I do desire you."
With that, Hiaras pulled Sanar over to the skycar, maneuvered her stunned companion into it and drove off.