Unknown location
Saracino rubbed tired eyes, scrubbing away dried discharges and frowned at the numbers and words on the screens. God, he was beat. No thanks to Bonnet who dumped his load on him three hours ago and vanished. The dirtbag was doing it so often he had to wonder why Bonnet deserved the seat he was hardly warming and why he accepted the bullshit. He knew why. There was no one else to do it. The extra load was giving him a headache. Rubbing his eyes again, he bent to the screen.
Supplies, power consumption, fleet and troop readiness. Bringing up reports from other bases, he read them carefully. All was in working order. A pity about Omega. It was one of the better strongholds with a lot of potential. It couldn't be helped. Once the mentor decided to use it as a testing ground for virulent technology, the logistics of controlling the test subjects coupled with the resistance put up by the residents played havoc with operations. Frankly, he was surprised the mentor did not choose to abandon the station once reports of test subjects breaking loose was received. Instead he sent in reinforcements. All were lost. Perhaps the station could have been recovered if the mentor hadn't died.
He deserved to die. He was turned, like you are. He betrayed you.
Frowning, he scratched his head irritably, pulling at the collar of his shirt. He wished he had remembered to take the pills last night. With so much to keep an eye on, he wasn't sleeping much nor keeping to his personal schedule. Now he was hallucinating, listening to some damn dream voice whispering in his ear all day, distracting him. He glanced at the chronometer. He missed breakfast and lunch. That would account for the headache, emptiness and queasy roil in his stomach from drinking coffee non-stop. Carrie could get him a sandwich in minutes. Rubbing his eyes, he reached for the vidcom. An unfamiliar face looked out at him.
Who the hell are you?
"Where's-," he rubbed his brow when a needle seemed to jab into his temples, "Carrie?" he growled at the short hair woman. Brissie? Or was it Fessie? Not that he gave a damn, she wasn't the woman he wanted to see.
"She's attending to another duty, sir. How may I serve you?" she replied in a monotone.
Why was she speaking like that? He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. Of course she was a chipped Cerberus personnel. Brissie. A clerk. He half wondered if his mind was going. Opening his eyes, he grew irritated at the empty look of her eyes.
"Find her and have her get me something to eat and drink!" he snapped and closed off the vidcom.
How he disliked looking into single tone blue eyes that convey nothing. It didn't matter that it was a side effect of the implantation. A major flaw of the Reaper tech incorporated with the device. With employees' loyalty suspect in those days, the mentor decided to implant everyone. Now he was surrounded by them. A sight he could hardly bear. He took care not to display his aversion to his colleagues. There was no telling what they would think.
They will kill you.
He shook his head. His knuckles scrapped against his chin as he pulled again at his collar. Had he forgotten to shave? Leaving his chair, he stepped into the washroom, gazing into the mirror as he examined his chin. He frowned. He was keeping a beard wasn't he? Why was he thinking of shaving? He hesitated before opening the small cabinet below the mirror. He reached for the small shaver and carefully removed the beard. Rubbing his jaw to ensure he had gotten all the bristles, he dumped the shaver back into the cabinet and washed his hands. A final examination of his reflection before he returned to his desk.
He stopped short when he saw the tray beside the stacks of hardcopy and datapads. Did he order food? Of course he did. His stomach rumbled as he sat down. Another sharp pin at his temples hit him. Damn, he should have ordered some headache pills. Pulling the tray closer, he picked up the pastry, ignoring the knife and fork, and bit into it. Steamed grain, vegetables and bits of meat. The aroma drifted around him. A jolt hit him and he was suddenly not at the desk any more.
"... too much. Here we are enjoying this meal but how many are as lucky as we?" Carrie tipped her plate of tuna salad at him.
"We are working towards it aren't we? We're almost there," he said soothingly. "It'll only be a bit longer."
"I don't think I can last that long. He asked me into his office again." She pushed away the untouched plate. "Sally came in before it got worse."
"I'm sorry." He reached to take her hand. "Look, I'll talk to him, get him to lay off you. If that doesn't work, I'll talk to the boss. Here-," he cut a small piece off his pastry and held it out to her. "It's still hot, don't forgo your favourite because of some asshole."
"It won't work." She ignored the offering, upset brown eyes staring into his.
"It will, this time. I made some breakthroughs, the boss will be happy and you know what that means." He grinned at the light in her eyes. "So let's call this a celebration huh?"
Bemused, he stared at his hand holding out the pastry. Why was he doing that? Carrie. The name, the woman he saw. He knew her. A twinge hit the back of his head. Damn the headache. He must had been working too hard. Sleep was his next priority after he finished the food. Yes, that was what he should do. Staring at the empty space before him a while longer, he downed the pastry and the mug of juice on the tray and turned back to his console. Where was he? Ah yes, supplies, power consumption, fleet and troop readiness. All was in order.
When the pain hit, he was held in its agonizing grip for what felt like an eternity. Muscles were frozen, the scream he couldn't utter lodged in his throat. Teeth clenched, he clapped a hand to his head when he could move, pushing himself upright with enormous effort with the other hand. The tray crashed to the floor, plate and mug clattering and rolling. As quickly as the terrifying pain gripped him, it left him as abruptly. Panting, he sagged against the desk, hardcopy and datapads tumbling off to scatter untidily around his feet. His heart throbbed madly. His shirt stuck wetly to him as he stared blankly before him.
Carrie. Where was Carrie? They were supposed to meet at the shuttle bay. He was to pass her some datasticks for safe keeping. She would leave and stay at the safehouse until he came for her. What happened after that? He made for the door and smacked impatiently at the control panel. The woman at her desk across the door looked up. Damn those blank blue eyes. He focused on her nose instead.
"Where is Carrie?" he demanded.
"She's attending a meeting at the main conference room, sir," she intoned. She turned when he strode past her. "Can I help you, sir?"
"Get back to your work!" he snarled over his shoulder and went through the door beyond her desk.
Out in the corridor, he looked left and right. It was empty except for troopers stationed at intervals. The ones nearest to him glanced at him before directing their gaze forward. The conference room was a floor above, he remembered and headed for the nearest lift. None of the troopers stopped him from taking it. Why should they? He was after all, one of the heads of Cerberus.
A minor one. Only minor.
Rubbing his head, he wondered at the source of the blinding headache. Perhaps it was stress, the amount of workload he had to handle. After all, they were on the verge of carrying out the first phase, everything had to go off without a hitch. Or were they? It was difficult to remember. No, no, they had agreed to lie low for a while. To escape the sniffer dogs the Alliance had sent out. Yes, that was what they agreed to do. But they had not decided on a new time table so how long was he supposed to keep those divisions on ice? Supplies were not finite, they should be scouring for new sources. That or simply picked a new window of opportunity.
He headed automatically for the conference room once the doors of the lift open. Down the corridor, a left turn, then a right turn. He staggered back when the wall failed to give way. Irritation rose to the fore. It wasn't a wall. It was the door to the conference room. A door that was supposed to open automatically. Someone locked it. He slapped angrily at the control panel before his fingers stabbed out, inputting his personal code. Who the hell locked the damn doors?! The doors snapped open.
He peered into the dimness and recoiled from the smell and the sounds that floated to his ears. The smell of food, wine, and heavy rutting. His lips curled. Was Delmond at it again? Slop slop slop. Was food and self gratification all that slop knew? He debated whether he should go back to his office or stepped in to spoil the fat slop's fun. He had spent long hours dutifully hefting duties that Delmond should have been shouldering, why shouldn't he break up the party and have some fun himself? He would stand in plain sight until that sorry excuse of a human realised he had an audience. One great way to prick that laughable coat of virtue Delmond like to draw about himself.
The doors closed behind him as he stepped in. He made his way over to the lounge next to the conference room. The large couches there were more suitable for Delmond's activities than the conference table. He turned into the lounge and stopped in outrage when he saw who else was there. How dare Bonnet threw over his workload to him and come here to enjoy himself! Did Delmond know about it? How long were they taking advantage of him?
His gaze alighted on the bottles of wine, glasses and dishes. Clearly, they had indulged their appetites very well before moving to the next item of entertainment. Their mentor had his moments too. As many as six to eight sexual liaisons with different partners in a week but this, his eyes roamed over the tableau that would have fitted nicely in any of the skin flicks on the xtranet. A shameless orgy.
His hands clenched. If Bonnet was drunk and drugged right to the gills, he probably wouldn't remember what happened if he interrupted their joy. Neither would Delmond. He winced when his head throbbed, seeming to keep pace with the anger rushing through him. As he rubbed his head, one of the entangled naked bodies rolled over. Coldness and horror swept through him when he saw her face. He reached out to her.
"Carrie? Why are you still here?" His hands grasped empty air when she was tugged away. "No, you let her go!"
He threw himself at the duo, pulling at the body on top of her and realised he was looking down at the indignant face of Bonnet.
"Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Bonnet struck his hand away. "Get your own..." his next words was a gurgle when a fist came down on his face. Blood split when his teeth nicked his lips. His eyes widened in shock before rage blazed. "You're going to..."
Another hammering blow knocked him backwards. Before he could recover, hands latched around his throat.
"I've enough of you!" Saracino snarled and squeezed with all his might. Behind him, Carrie crawled away before sitting to stare at the struggle. Totally oblivious to the fight, the other threesome carried on.
Perhaps some glimmer that his life was at stake finally filtered in on Bonnet when he couldn't prise off Saracino's hands at his throat. His knee came up and jabbed hard into his assailant's stomach, knocking the breath out of him but those hands did not loosen. They were like steel, closing off his air. Eyes bulging, he tried again to throw his attacker off but howled instead when he was kneed in the groin and Saracino's full weight went down on his genitals. He gave a choking gurgle as his head was lifted and slammed down on the floor. Again and again with a sickening wet crunch. His body went limp.
One more. One more.
Saracino rose vengefully to his feet. He picked up a bottle from the coffee table and smashed it before pulling the women off the writhing mound of flesh on the floor. A dreadful howl filled the room when he swiped the broken neck of the bottle across Delmond's groin. Ignoring the rolling hunched body, he twisted his fingers into Delmond's hair, pulling back his head. Fearful eyes pleaded with him, mouth babbling words he did not hear. One stroke with the broken bottle across that fat neck and the torrent of words morphed into wet gurgling. He released his hold, filled with disgust and something else. Triumph.
Done. It's done. I'm free.
His head might throb and pull but he felt on top of the world. Dropping the bottle, he crossed over to Carrie and pulled her up. Avoiding the blank stare of those blue eyes, he towed her after him. "Come," he said to the other two women who rose obediently at the command and followed. Outside, he keyed in his code, sealing the room. It would never be used again. No one would bother to find out why.
"Return to your quarters, clean yourselves up and return to your duties," he said to the two women. They turned and walked away. He turned to Carrie, focusing on her lips. "Carrie, report to me after you've cleaned yourself up."
"Yes, sir."
He did not watch her go. Instead he headed back towards the lift with light footsteps. Free. He was free. With the other two dead, there was no one to oppose him. Everything was his now. Everything that the mentor created, everything that he owned, was his to command. His to play with. He stopped to look out of a window along the corridor. Those warships, the troops, the bases. All his.
The future is mine. I will make it as I see fit. They shall see the magnificence of the plan.
Omega Nebula
Sahrabarik System
There was no sound in space but there were lights in plenty. Distant shining stars. One shone unnaturally brighter and closer to the fuel depot. An artificial star with spinning rings enclosed within its fork. The energies contained within them blazed in the heart of mammoth metal. Streaks of multiple lights flared suddenly before seeming to coalescence and then disappeared.
As the frigate moved away, another burst of light blossomed behind it. Larger than the frigate but no less stealthy than its mate, the Normandy turned to a different trajectory. The Ain Jalut mirrored a parallel course and they headed towards their common target, Omega. On the other side of the heliosphere, an Alliance cruiser lurked in the shadows of Imorkan.
Thump! The ball jounced against the rim of the basketball hoop before rolling in. April grinned, waggling her fingers in invitation as Liara pulled the bouncing ball to her. Sweat gleamed on her face, her black sweatshirt and mid-thigh pants clung to her. As similarly dressed, there was a slight sheen to Liara's skin but other than that, there was no sign that she had been playing basketball for nearly an hour.
She eyed April, bouncing the ball leisurely before dashing to the right. April moved swiftly in that direction. Liara pulled up short, found her way blocked when she tried to go forward. She made a feint as if to charge around April but instead leaned in to plant a kiss on her bondmate's lips when she turned. The distraction was enough for her to jump up and launch the ball towards the hoop.
"Hey!" Hands on her hips, April watched the ball rolled in. "That's not fair."
"There is nothing in the rules to say I cannot."
Liara ran a teasing finger along April's jaw before dodging the grab for her and another. A light chime from her omni-tool cut short their play. Liara pivoted, dodged another grab and headed for the exit. Using the tip of her foot, April flipped the ball to her hands before tossing it to one of the grinning off-duty crew who was watching at the sideline. She jogged after Liara who was making for the showers next to the gymnasium. With crew members present and the showers being open stalls, they couldn't share as much as they like or take as long. April managed to sneak in a proper bit of payback when they were dressing. With another hour to go, they went to the wardroom for a light salad and a drink while checking the xtranet for the latest news.
A smile lit Liara's lips when she read her email. "Dad says the Assembly have come to a new agreement with the geth. They are also going to reassess troop fitness and deployments. The campaign schedule will also be brought forward if the troops are ready."
"They're not going to wait for the results of the field test of that new application?" April asked, pleased to see her in high-spirits.
The gloom that was hanging over Liara for the past weeks dissipated once Aethyta got back to them with the good news that the rest of the Assembly had swung in line. Not much else was said except that the old matriarch had passed on and that she would tell them all about it once they got home. There were a few choice remarks about their current assignment. None of which would reach Aria's ears, thankfully.
Liara shook her head. "No, at least not for the initial phase. They are going to clear and take Armali. With part of the leadership gone, they hope TI resistance will be minimum. After that, if the application works, they will consolidate a more rigorous offensive during implementation."
Spooning fava beans into her mouth, April nodded and reached out to take Liara's hand.
"See, it's all working out. Come next year, it's all going to be very different," she said aloud, more for the ears of those sitting around the wardroom while saying more to Liara through their link.
It wouldn't do for the crew to hear about the scrambler or speculate about their strange behaviour were they to suddenly burst aloud into laughter for no reason or exhibiting conversational mannerisms when they were not conversing vocally.
Her marriage to an asari was not accepted unanimously among her own species so the less aberrant their interactions, the fewer rumours and stories about them. Less ammunition for their critics to lobe although the crew of the Glasgow were anything but warm and respectful. Given how much hobnobbing they would have among aliens in the times they spent onboard the Citadel, any prejudices would have rubbed off. Still, there would be some stubborn diehard critics.
She looked at the chronometer on her omni-tool. "Time we head up."
They disposed of their plates and cups into the recycle bins by the door before taking the lift to the conference room. Dorrin was stationed at the large conference table, tracking the progress of the two frigates on a holo of the Sahrabarik System displayed over the middle of the table.
"They're on the sniffing course. It'll be an hour before they reach deployment," he said when they took up positions opposite him. "We stripped the comm buoys. Other than a spattering of random transmission ripples along the heliosphere six months ago, there's nothing in local comm traffic."
April nodded as she examined the local area around Omega. The erstwhile haven floated like a misshapen jellyfish in a strange ocean of rocks. "Looks like nobody's home."
"Looks deceiving," returned Dorrin. "Reactor core is active."
"That cuts down ground mission drag," said April.
"I don't know. Rebounds in a firefight can be pretty great," Dorrin said, grinning at April.
"You care to prove that observation on the deck?" riposted April.
Dorrin pointed at her with a challenging finger. "You're on. I'm no bum that warms the seat all the time. Pick the time. I'll be waiting."
"How crowded do you think it is going to be?" Liara asked, smiling faintly when April snorted at Dorrin's confidence.
"Very crowded," said April. "I expect the Cerberus commander to do the sensible thing. Fortify Omega Control."
"Is the emergency airlock at operations still not an option?" asked Liara. It was the most direct and easiest way into Omega, much better than wading through hordes of whatever creatures that inhabited the station now.
April shook her head. "Not an option. The trick is to figure out what security modifications they made and shut them down before they discover the infiltration. They have the upper hand because they know about EDI," she said as she braced her hands on the table to peer at the holo image. "From the specs, there's not much elbow room. It's too risky for the teams to go that way."
They would also be risking the lives of civilians who might have survived and taken refuge at Omega Control, Liara understood. Was it possible some had managed to weather the horrors? Aria didn't think so. Liara wasn't so sure. Omega wasn't the Citadel. The people who chose to go to Omega were there under different circumstances but with one common purpose. To carve out a livelihood in an unforgiving milieu. The hardiest would fight and dominate. The weak had to find the resilience to endure.
An incoming message on her omni-tool caught Liara's attention. It was from Feron. She read it at once. "Feron has matched the names and transponders of freighters with the list from Aria," she said. She transferred the data to a new display. "These are the cargo lists."
A whistle left Dorron's lips as he read the lists. "That is a lot of grub there."
"It's all dry stuff. Hard to tell how many people they're for," said April. "Supplies stopped two years ago, they have to be running short."
"If they set up hydroponics, they can last for some time," said Liara.
"And then they start eating each other," said Dorrin. He shrugged when Liara blanched and stared at him in horror. "I don't see any shuttles or ships at the docking slips. They're trapped."
"They could go mad and destroy the station first," said April.
"That is an outcome Aria must be afraid of," said Liara, checking her email as another message appeared.
"She would," April nodded.
"Frankly I don't know what she sees in that can of worms but she's welcome to it. Better her than me," said Dorrin.
"You're fortunate she's not here to hear you say that her beloved throne is fit for worms."
"I'd like to stand and say bring it on but I think I'd better not."
"Really." April eyed Dorrin. "You'd take your chances with me than her? May I remind you who ate Reapers for breakfast, lunch and dinner?"
"I know your weaknesses which is why I'm going to make sure our appointment is at tea break. I stand a better chance," Dorrin grinned at her.
Liara interrupted the banter. "Glyph has sent additional data. The ships that visited Ilium and Omega also traded with the human colonies that reported disappearances of the non-human refugees left with them during the war."
"Disappearances?" Dorrin repeated in puzzlement.
"Only non-humans?" asked April.
"Yes," Liara said. "They disappeared two years ago. That time line coincide with the last shipment to Omega."
"How many are missing from the colonies?"
"All of them. Near eight thousand," said Liara. "All were refugees from various systems that were overtaken by the Reapers.."
"That doesn't make sense. They can't all go at once," said Dorrin. "Is every human on those colonies blind and deaf?"
Absently tapping her fingers on the table, brows furrowed, April asked, "Is there anything of interest on those human colonies?"
"They are set up in the Attican Traverse. The Janus and Relicuos were founded in 2184 CE under the egis of Anterio Futures."
April's fingers stopped drumming "The Attican Traverse?!" she echoed in astonishment and shared a look of disbelief with Dorrin.
"The colonies were made part of a system of relief stations. The refugees were sent there by Allied ships in the initial evacuation wave but they were unable to pull them out when the Reapers advanced rapidly and overran the defense fleets," said Liara. She waved at the data. "It is in the report. Somehow, both colonies were not destroyed."
"That's highly suspicious." Dorrin shared a look of unease with April and went on. "Didn't any one think of looking into it?"
"Not a priority with the TI digging into every homeworld," April muttered as she mused on the startling revelation. She paused when she felt the troubled touch from Liara. "There's more isn't there?"
"Anterio Futures is owned by Terra Firma."
"Terra Firma?" Dorrin blinked. "Isn't that one of the political parties that was snowed under in 2185? Tax evasion, I believe."
"Yes. They applied for colony rights to those systems in 2182. They filed complaints against the Systems Alliance and the Council for strong-arm exploitation, misapplications, misconduct-," a disgusted curse from April nearly blanked out Liara's next words, "and impingement of rights for putting the non-human refugees with them."
Dorrin sucked at his teeth. "Damn lot of scrooges. It's no wonder the Reapers didn't bother to swipe them."
"Who's in charge of Terra Firma now?" April recalled the man who spoke to her. "What's his name...Saracino?"
"Yes," Liara affirmed. "After he failed to be elected to the Alliance Parliament, he continued to solicit funds for his organization, culminating in charges of tax evasion. He left for one of the colonies after serving a term of sentence."
April did not like what was she hearing. Terra Firma was a political group advocating protection against alien influences to preserve the purity of the human race. They wouldn't want to host thousands of alien refugees on their doorstep.
"The colonies reportedly sent in requests for ships to remove the refugees. They cited lack of supplies and shelter to support that many but with so many ships destroyed in the war, the Alliance and the Council were unable to comply that quickly." Liara put up the dates of the supply runs. "As you can see, the dearth of stores after the war made it difficult to maintain a regular distribution of supplies. Not just those systems but every surviving colony. "
"I'd expect more noises from them." Dorrin looked at Liara expectantly but she shook her head.
"Nothing was heard from them thereafter. Their comm traffic was sparse. Supply shipments picked up after a year."
"When did they file the kidnap reports?" April asked.
Liara looked down, fidgeting a little. "A month after the Council want a census of every colony."
The census was to update the archives to facilitate reconciliation among those who were still searching for their families. It was completed two years ago. The same time as the last shipping to Omega. They looked at one another grimly.
"I don't like what I'm thinking," said Dorrin. "Is there an investigative report?"
"Yes, here." Liara put up the reports. Silence fell.
Other than interviews and an examination of the habitats that housed the missing people, the report was rather dry and bare of details. There was no attempt to get an exact breakdown of the refugees, how many humans, asari, turians and the like. Nor was there any in-depth query on the circumstances of the disappearance. April couldn't fathom how the investigators carried out their duties or what the brass were thinking to accept the report. Did Hackett even get to read it or was someone else handling the cases?
"What the hell?" Dorrin burst out, flicking his fingers contemptuously at the display. "That's an investigative report?! The Alliance and the Council accepted this?"
"Someone dropped the ball," April sighed. "Or someone managed to hide it from the brass heads and they never saw the report at all."
"Someone's head is going to roll," Dorrin growled darkly.
"Terra Firma has to be working with Cerberus." Liara's statement was like a bombshell. "There is no way the colonies could have survived the war given their locations."
"Oh great, more crazies in the mix," Dorrin muttered.
"Liara is right. This is going to bring up the question whether there is a serious hole in our security net." April's gaze met Dorrin's eyes. He nodded grimly.
"You're thinking Terra Firma wasn't worked on by the Illusive Man. If they're not chipped nor indoctrinated, we're going to have to turn ourselves inside out to look for their agents," he said. "Hell they could be the ones stirring up the pot back home."
"What're they saying?" April asked curiously.
"That the Alliance should keep their noses back home, to stop wasting lives on causes not their own," Dorrin said.
They knew what he was referring to of course. The deployment of military aid to Thessia and Palaven did not please many people back on Earth. Hackett and Parliament apparently thought differently. April didn't know if the policy was Hackett's. It didn't matter. Both homeworlds were as important as Earth, they could not afford to lose either one.
"Doesn't matter at the moment. The brass back home need to know this as soon as possible," April said.
Totally in agreement, Dorrin was about to speak when a two tone ping sounded from the intercom in the room.
"Captain Dorrin, the Ain Jalut and the Normandy are starting insertion," commander Channing reported.
They turned their attention to the holo plot. The image of the Sahrabarik System appeared before it was replaced by Omega. Two green icons were rapidly approaching the space station in opposite directions.
"No sign of any power output ," said Liara, removing all the other screens and leaving Omega as the sole image.
A direct link to the Normandy's tactical plot sprang up. Their major concern was the possibility of a heavy defensive grid on the station. So far the scans turned up nothing.
"One thousand klicks. No sign of station defenses. Nine hundred," she counted down as the distance between the space station and the frigates decreased.
As both ships neared their designated drop zones, their landing bays open. Thousands of tiny probes were ejected as they veered and spiralled around the space station. Both crew on the frigates eyed their scan data vigilantly, watching for any sign that someone had noticed their presence. Following the flight plan, the frigates each reached the end of their spiral at opposite ends of the station before breaking off and turning back to the mass relay. The probes they left behind kicked in their tiny maneuvering thrusters, making for any hatches of airlocks their sensors found once they reached the space station. Tiny robotic arms reached out for control panels, numerous lightning threads whipped out, hacking through the controls.
"They are in," Liara reported. On the holo image of Omega, thousands of tiny lights sparkled. "Signal is steady."
"Well," April cocked her head, "we should have an idea what lurks within in 24 hours. We'll know whether we should pull the plug."
"A close look at the bowels of hell," Dorrin mused, thinking of the unfortunate mercenary scouting party Aria had sent. "I'm not looking forward to that."