Local Cluster
Earth, Citadel
The tiny scrabbling shuffling sound was barely audible. Focused on the readouts on the power relay monitoring panel, Westir did not realise there was someone else with him until something hit his left shin. Looking down, he was startled to see a pair of equally surprised eyes in a small face. Before he could react, whoever it was scooted backwards into the ventilation shaft under the monitoring station.
"It can't be...shit!" Westir cursed, dropping down to his knees at once to look into the open air vent.
Hexagon in shape, it was a quarter of his height and large enough for him if he were all waist. Pulling the vent cover further apart, he flicked on the light of his omni-tool and directed it down the tunnel. A pair of boots disappeared round the corner as he did so.
"Damn it...hey! Come back!" he yelled into the tunnel, hearing echoes of his voice bouncing along the air shaft. "Come back, it's not safe to stay down there!"
He waited a beat but he knew he would not be heeded. Frustrated, he sat back, pushing the vent cover shut. Whoever it was, boy or girl, would not return. He dug into one of pouches at his belt and brought out a tiny voicecorder in the shape of a rabbit. Flicking the switch, he listened for a moment before resetting and turned it off. Opening the vent cover, he carefully put it into the tunnel, as far as he could reach. After making a notation in his omni-tool, he picked up the datapad he dropped. Falling behind his assigned tasks would not earn him any points with Drake.
Getting to his feet, he returned to work. After a few minutes, he closed the monitoring panel and exited the power junction, keeping a lookout for any signs of intruders. At the entrance, he climbed a ladder to the upper catwalk and moved into another passageway, inspecting several more power couplings. As he followed the bend of the passage, he fell back hastily when a keeper bobbed in his direction.
He had been expecting to run into keepers. There seemed to be an unusual number of them appearing in Foundations but he never thought he would see one in the upper catwalks of the auxillary power junction. There was hardly any space for the both of them so he tried to squeeze himself as far back into the corner as possible. Like an automaton, the creature turned the corner neatly, its head trained ahead, its legs barely brushing his as it passed.
"Well, hello to you too," he muttered and froze when the keeper suddenly turned. For a wild moment, he thought it heard him and was responding but it reached out with a long arm to tap on a door panel and vanished into one of the side corridors.
"Damn it, I'm pissing myself." He clapped a hand to his chest and rubbed at the ache. "I really need a vacation," he exhaled gustily.
A glance at the chronometer on his omni-tool tool; 2125. He headed wearily for the exit. Half an hour later, he wished he could soak the ache out of his bones as he stood beneath the steaming water in the showers but that was a luxury that would have to wait until he got back to his apartment. If he didn't pass out on the bed first.
Minutes later, washed and dressed, he picked up his dinner at the canteen. Even at that hour, it was crowded but the atmosphere was subdued. Everyone was pulling long shifts. No one had the energy to talk much. Someone waved to him as he looked for a place to sit. They had reserved a seat for him, he saw, as he made his way over to Tessie.
"Hey West," she said softly when he reached them.
"You look like I feel." He sighed as he sat down beside Malon who was slurping down unidentifiable pea-green mush from his bowl. It smelt slightly acrid. Rubbing away the itch creeping up his nose, Westir picked up his spoon. "Anything new?"
"Nope." She swallowed a mouthful of stew. "Nothing big..I think...you gonna eat that?" She dipped her spoon into her bowl for another helping as he examined the brownish stew with orange bits in it. "It's vege beef," she added helpfully.
He groaned. "Again? How long have we been eating this stuff?"
"Face it, we're cattle. We're going to be stuffing it down our faces until this station start hauling ass back to where it belongs and they start stocking up again."
"Commercial vessels are still in orbit," said Challa, crumbling what looked like biscuit into his pink-purple noodles. They looked like noodles to Westir. They could be some kind of worms but he had no interest in finding out.
"Yeah, but those stuff's going downstairs, not here. Got to keep the mob happy, you know." Tessie tore off a chunk from a small loaf of bread on her tray and scooped up some of the remaining stew with it.
"What did you hear?" Westir tasted the stew and recognised it as one of the canteen cooks' personal recipe. A fine attempt to vary the cuisine but when one had been eating vegetable beef stew for the past weeks, it didn't make much difference.
"It's not confirmed but something may arrive in two days," said Malon, pushing away his empty bowl. "Something big. The cleaners are widening the sphere of their sweeps and running out there every two hours."
"Shit, my job's easier," Westir said feelingly.
"Guess they don't want a single piece of debris swinging this way." Tessie reached for her glass of water and took a sip. "Makes you wonder if they're going to start cleaning up the rest of the rocks after this station is gone."
Westir made a face. "I don't think so."
"Why not?"
He quelled the desire to say something disparaging on her intelligence. "Come on, those debris isn't just a problem for us, the TI can't tiptoe in without getting smack in the face."
"The TI are all groundside and we haven't seen anything like an attack from space since the war ended," she countered.
"Doesn't mean there won't be."
"Well, I think it's time they start cleaning up," she said stubbornly. "That way, traders don't have to navigate the maze, wait hours for clearance to dock, security checks, offloading, onloading, trading, refueling and all that stuff. Think how much savings come filtering down to us."
She glared at them when they looked silently at her, piqued that agreement wasn't fast coming.
"Sure, it's cheaper on the station but it's a different story down there. You guys just don't know how much it costs just to buy essentials. It used to be twice, now it's quadruple since they locked down commercial traffic!"
"Such chain effect is typical but temporary-," began Malon sympathetically, aware of his colleague's family difficulties down on Earth.
"Speak for yourself." Tessie rolled her eyes. "Your homeworld is the only one clean as a whistle."
"The space around it yes but we face the same TI problem. Since we don't have any battle debris to serve as a buffer, we have to deploy more security satellites, forts and increased patrols."
"That's waaay more expensive than your...essentials." Westir waggled his eyebrows at Tessie who scowled at him. "So until the TI are gone, I guess we're stuck with the orbiting debris. What's next?" He dug into the stew.
"We're one of the groups to stay onstation when they start shifting." Challa almost laughed at the shocked expressions on the humans' faces at that unexpected bombshell. Malon only blinked.
"Oh great, we get the grandstand view." Dropping the spoon into the bowl, Westir sagged back in his chair, appetite lost. "We get drop into the poop if anything goes south." He mimed a huge explosion.
"According to you these past weeks, everything is going down the gutters," Tessie said waspishly as she pushed back her chair. "If it happens to you, I wouldn't shed a tear." She stalked off angrily, leaving a pool of silence behind.
"What did I say?" Westir muttered plaintively after a while.
"We're all tired." Challa finished the last of his drink. "We'll see better tomorrow." He made to get up but stopped when Westir put out a hand.
"Do you have any more of those 'corders? I don't think I can make any tonight."
"I'll drop what I have on your locker in the morning." Challa nodded tiredly to Westir and Malon before walking away.
"How many did you run into today?" Malon asked curiously.
"Just one, over at the IO237g junction." Picking up his spoon again, Westir forced himself to eat. "The kids have probably moved somewhere. There're only six more days. If we don't get those duct rats out-," he trailed off.
"You do realise these children are unlike the usual breed? They are rather resilient," Malon pointed out.
"They may have learned how to survive in the environment but nothing's going to save them if they are caught in the wrong place at the wrong time when the station began to move. The big wigs aren't telling us how they plan to do it but I tell you, all kinds of odd stuff might happen." Westir stirred the remaining stew and pushed the bowl away, struggling to damp down his frustrations. "If any of those kids bother to listen to those recordings, maybe a few can be saved."
"With all the wards already locked down, the only places they can go to are not safe." Malon paused to consider. "Foundations is the only hideaway."
Westir thumped the table softly with a fist. "That's even worst. They're not going to listen to official broadcasts. I'd bet they're scared. They can't trust us so they're going to do the first thing that comes to mind. Hide where they can, scrounge and stock up on supplies."
Malon nodded. "It's a high probability they were already making their own preparations ever since the project was announced, " he said. "Who knows, they might come come through unscathed but if any of them died in due process, we'll never know."
"Damn it, I know!" The outburst drew a few curious gazes from neighbouring tables but most of the other R&M (repair and maintenance) personnel simply carried on eating. Westir lowered his voice, "We can just hope for the best."
"Get some rest, West," Malon said softly. "I'll make more of the 'corders and put them at your locker."
The exhaustion he was keeping at bay finally swamped Westir. He could only nod his gratitude, grasping Malon on his shoulder in silent thanks before leaving for his apartment. Tired as he was, he was not certain he would get the rest he needed. The plight of the duct rats would continue to gnaw at him. If he did sleep, hopefully, he would be too tired to have nightmares.
SSV Glasgow
His chest expanded and contracted rhythmically, blood surged in concert as his feet pounded on the rubber track. Music played softly in his ear as he rounded the curve, flashing by off duty crew working out on several exercising machines. Farther away, a small crowd shouted and whistled at players in a outball match but Dorrin hardly heard them. After weeks clamped up by a slew of tasks that had to be seen to, it was a relief to be able to stretch his legs, get his sluggish body to do some hard work. He was enjoying it too much to let anything distract him. Sweat dripped down his face by the time he ended his run. He mopped it up with the towel around his neck as he slowed down gradually to a walk to cool off.
So far so good, he was not breathing too hard. Pleased, he got off the track and headed for the entrance of the gym. A shower, some light snacks and back to work. Whomp! The sudden collision at the doors staggered him backwards.
"Sorry, captain!" The marine who ran into him leaped back, coming to attention as her face turned red.
"At ease, lieutenant," said Dorrin. A pair of green eyes snapped to him before looking straight ahead.
"Sir," she said and waited till he moved away before entering the gym.
Rubbing his chest ruefully; she must have been running full speed, he headed to his quarters. Stripping off his wet gym outfit, he tossed it into the washer before stepping into the shower. When he exited, a fresh uniform was already laid out on his bed. A tray with a plate of wafer thin sandwiches, a glass of water and a mug of juice sat on his desk. As usual, Martin was right on top of things. He dried off and dressed quickly.
Turning on the desk console as he sat down, he reached for a sandwich. There were several messages from department heads. One was from Admiral Langdon, addressed to all captains of First Fleet. Another, he saw to his delight, was an email from Shepard. She must have made a full recovery. He would keep her message for last, business first. He scrolled through the missive from ANI and hit the intercom to the bridge. "Canning, report to my quarters."
His lips tightened as he went through the other messages. Another cantankerous report from Rantos. Three shuttles were out of service from persistent "applications" and the remaining two were closed to that same state. Another emphasis on lack of replacement parts and the delay of supplies. There was really nothing he could do except acknowledged the problem. Again. Rantos's complaint would have been seen to immediately but with high demand from other allied navies as well, both local and foreign manufacturers just could not keep up. Not with so many security factors constraining the industry from expanding at the moment.
The sentry outside the door announced Canning. He looked up as the XO came in.
"Sir." Canning saluted and fell at ease at Dorrin's gesture.
"ANI want our patrol pattern adjusted to include the CVHA (commercial vessel holding area) stopover. Rotational schedule with Essen and Almada. We take first watch as of 0300. Pull DTS (debris trajectory surveillance) every half hour."
"Yes, sir." Canning took the datastick Dorrin proffered to him. "Any reason why we're looking over the sheep?"
"A hundred and eighty very unhappy sheep. Inspections aren't going fast enough. Customs are severely shorthanded so we're going to give them extra bodies. We currently have two working shuttles which aren't enough to expedite the process so we're going to borrow two from customs. Have Major Stephos ready six Marine squads for inspection parties-," Dorrin trailed off, seeming to think. Canning waited patiently, knowing there was more. "Ask the major, to choose at his own discretion, people who had some experience with hiding contraband."
"Sir?" Canning blinked. Did the captain ask for bootleggers among the marines?
Dorrin almost laughed at his expression. "Marines aren't born marines, Ben. They don't all sprout from the same pristine ground. Some of them may have a better idea of the ways and operations of smugglers and know where to look. They're to watch for unauthorised cargo and suspicious materials." He almost grinned at the light of comprehension in the XO's eyes.
"If any of the shippers are working with the fugitives from RF14, they wouldn't be holding on to the cargo. The present sitch is too hot."
"Perhaps. The price of the merchandise is mushrooming the longer the freighters sit there. That is why we need to start helping to clear the backlog for customs. With Ardones due in five days-," Dorrin put up a hand as Canning made to speak, "I know, five days is too short to clear that many ships. The job is divvy up, the other cruisers are sending their own parties. It's going to be slow but it is paramount we clear part of the skies and get those ships to offload much needed cargo downstairs."
Canning nodded. "I heard groundside temperature is going up the roof."
"Which we're going to try to cool as soon as possible. Inform the major to expedite if he could. Carry on, XO."
Canning turned to go and then hesitated. "Sir, do you have any idea what's Ardones?"
Dorrin leaned back in his chair. "I asked Admiral Langdon about that. He said to look up Heracles in Greek mythology. I suppose it's something that's going to shift the Citadel."
"Not someone, sir?" Canning flashed a grin.
"Then I would kick that someone's ass really hard and asked why didn't he do something about the Reapers. We could use a hand then," said Dorrin.
"But if it is something huge that could move the Citadel, who could have built it?"
Dorrin shrugged. "We'll find out in five days. Until then, we can let our fantasies run riot." He waited until Canning left before turning back to his console and brought up Shepard's email and settled down to read.
Thessia
"What cannot be, Shepard?"
To Shepard's relief, Shiala stopped two paces from her. "Quit fooling around with me," she said angrily, shaking her head to dispel the voice that was not Liara's and disturbingly like Shiala's in her mind.
"But I am not here to make myself an imbecile with you," Shiala said seriously. "I am here to tell you-," she paused, her expression turning glum.
"What?"
A sigh escaped Shiala, drawing Shepard's unwilling attention to her lips that looked very inviting. She dragged her gaze away to fix it on a blossoming plant.
"We're linked."
"What?!" Shepard's eyes snapped back to Shiala. "What did you do?" she demanded incredulously before another thought flashed to her mind. She clapped a hand to her mouth in horror. "We're not...we're not..." She could not utter the word. Was that why Liara seemed so upset? Was that why she was feeling so hot, so... she pushed the thought away.
Shiala understood what she was referring to. "I'm sorry Shepard, this is difficult for me."
"You?! What about me?!" Running a hand through her hand as she tried to sort conflicting emotions, Shepard turned away.
"I can only plea there were reasons why I did what I did," Shiala said behind her. "I-."
"Just tell me when it happened," Shepard returned brusquely, trying not to yell at her.
"A part of me was intrigued with your personality I touched in the mind meld. I had hoped the future would hold possibilities were you successful."
"Isn't that an incursion on my free will?" Shepard demanded "Is this what every asari does? They deliberately try to impose their own desire on someone when they wish it or not?!"
"You are angry, I understand. I can only hope that you would hear what I have to say. My balance was not what it should have been when I gave you the Cipher. Though I stepped into the Thorian's clutches without protest, a part of me loathed it with every fibre of my being. Everything I was, it touched." Shiala's voice dripped heavily with disgust. "And yet I was fascinated by its immense knowledge. When you killed it, I was filled with joy, gratitude and yet sadness over the lost. The gravity of the war that was to come filled me with fear. If any matrons or matriarchs were present, they would not have allowed the meld for they would have sensed the the deep disharmony within me. I made an impulsive decision."
Then you should have desisted. Shepard wanted to yell. She reined in her anger with effort. Damn it, aren't you listening? She was so mucked up she couldn't think straight.
"If we are linked, " she said instead. "Why is it I felt nothing from you before?"
"The link then was but a light touch. After several months at Zhu's Hope, I began to recover from the after effects. I knew I had to remove it but then came the news that the Normandy was destroyed and that you were missing in action."
Shepard turned at the grief she heard and saw it reflected on Shiala's face.
"I mourned as I aided the colonists in rebuilding. Everything was improving until we began to experience the lingering adverse effects from the Thorian spores and sought medical help."
"The medical contract you tried to negotiate with the Baria Frontiers representative on Illium," Shepard remembered. "You were-," she stopped as she recalled the odd pulling she walked through the concourse. Strange and fluctuating.
"Yes," Shiala nodded. "You felt it then. I felt your presence and responded. I was happy when I realised you were alive, not a rumor."
"You were sick then."
"Yes but it was inexcusable what I did after since my biotics were so unstable." Shiala looked away uncomfortably. "You were successful in persuading Baria Frontiers to change the contract, I was grateful. Though I sensed you had a link, you were not confident with it. Of what would become of yourself and Liara. I selfishly wanted to strengthen my tie to you. I wanted you to come to me because I yearned for that strength and shelter you could offer and so..."
"You touched me, I thought-," Shepard trailed off.
"I was flirting. Yes, I was. I was inviting you," Shiala sighed. "I had hoped you would make further contact but you didn't. A year later, the reaper war began and you know the rest. With what was left of those from Zhu's Hope, we were evacuated from Feros. We chose to fight alongside allied forces."
"You said you went to Asteria with the survivors."
"During the war, we used the link forged by the spores to maximise our fighting capabilities, drawing from what I learned as a commando. It was highly effective and ensured a better survival rate than we would have were we not linked," Shiala explained. "It was a connection not easily disregarded. We chose to stay together. However, a few months after we settled on Asteria, we discovered that the link had weakened considerably before eventually disappearing."
That was certainly a surprising development. When she received the email regarding this, Shepard had not quite believed it was possible. "Then the effects of the spores are not permanent," she said.
"Of that, we are not sure. Perhaps drawing on the link weakened it somehow. During this period, I made full recovery." Shiala saw the skeptical look from Shepard. "I had myself medically examined."
"Why didn't you return to Thessia? Surely the needs of your homeworld takes precedence."
"With recovery, comes balance. With it comes memory of what I had done. I am ashamed of my actions. Your bonding with Liara is public knowledge. Were I to return, I will disturb the peace between you and her. I have no wish to do that. As long as I stay away, you cannot sense the link."
"So you stayed on Asteria and you only came back..."
"Because Telienos and Liara asked me to. You need help. As a friend, can I stand idly by?"
Suspicion hit Shepard belatedly. "Does Liara know about this?"
"She does. She never told you about the second link, did she?" Shiala smiled when Shepard shook her head dumbly. "She knew what it meant when she first encountered it. You had no inkling of its existence, that's why she has never questioned or brought it up. It's weaker than the bond between the two of you. It presents no danger to her."
"Wait a minute," Shepard protested, knowing a glib dismissal when she heard it. No danger to Liara? Meaning what?
"Your bond is forged through the trials you faced together. Ours," Shiala flicked her hand coolly, "is but a pale shadow. One sided."
"How can it be one sided when I feel-," Shepard paused, "like I want to throw you to the floor and..."
Shiala's face flushed darkly. She took a few steps back.
"I am not unaffected by you Shepard. I will confess I feel the same but we cannot give in to it. I'm not a trained psychotherapist like Telienos but I can guess why you feel that way. Shepard, you're off balance right now. You're vulnerable because you've been dislocated from your central self. The link I made and my presence are exerting a stronger influence." She closed her eyes. "What I did is wrong. By our creed, I have committed a crime. You can seek redress."
"What?" Thrown off balance, Shepard struggled to catch up. "No wait. I read something about that..."
"I abide by whatever you decide and will not appeal..."
"Alright, knock it off," Shepard snapped. "Why the hell would I want to do that?"
"The answer is..," began Shiala.
"Quiet." Shepard glared at her and sighed when Shiala closed her mouth. "It's not helping your throwing more apples into an overloaded cart. Liara's not helping either. So until I get everything sorted out, stop trying to land yourself in hot water, painting yourself as a monster whatever. It's so...so messy, all these conflicting issues coming all at once," her voice rose slightly in her irritation.
"I'm sorry Shepard, I did not mean to increase the complications," Shiala said apologetically.
"Shucks...stop apologising too," Shepard groaned tiredly. "Look, if you want to help, be the friend you said you are." She rubbed her face wearily. "I'm going to bed now, I'll see you tomorrow and we'll have another talk when my mind's clearer."
"Good night, Shepard," Shiala said to her retreating back. A wave of a hand was the only answer.
T'Enaire safehouse, unknown location
It was a nice residence. Beautifully furnished with all kinds of amenities and well stocked with staples. There was a small hothouse, gardens and fountains. There was really nothing more Jieull could ask for except a better address. Looking out across the rolling farmlands that stretched as far as she could see from the walls, she wished she was anywhere but where she was. Down below, a gardener ambled by, examining the flower beds. Dressed in drab smirched coveralls over brown clothing, she looked like every other labourer but Jieull knew she was an elite commando. A jailor and a guard. She smirked. No commando could hold her if she chose to leave.
The problem was, she couldn't leave. At least, not yet. With her identity tagged as a conspirator in a outworlder murder and a bounty attached to her arrest, there was no where she could go at the moment. Not even Illium or the outer colonies. There were remote places she could hide in but it would take months of work to throw off the cover she was using. If she had the credits, it could be done easily but whatever she had, wouldn't meet the price tag unless she signed a contract. She knew better than to hobble herself that way.
Another week of this pastoral existence, no possibilities of any assignation, I'll go crazy, she thought petulantly.
If only she could get her hands on that wimpy Seskia and find out who it was that jumped her and then dumped her outside C-Sec. That whoever it was had removed her from the hands of human scum instead of leaving her to their mercy, she could appreciate but she had very little of that when she woke up to find herself under the scrutiny of station security officers. It brought her to their attention which she had avoided for so long. She would have gotten away with the usual excuse of working too long and had simply fallen asleep outside C-Sec headquarters but she could not explain the bruise on the back of her nape one sharp eye officer spotted.
It was not difficult to act the persecuted worker; too frightened to file a complaint. With no security footage to say otherwise, they couldn't find any holes in her story. The moment she returned to her apartment, she bought the first available ticket back to Thessia. To stay at the Citadel was to expose herself further. She fully expected to be disciplined for her failure to secure incriminating files on the councilor but to be sent off to this remote farming colony had been a shock. She was certain nothing would connect her to the Alliance officer's death. And yet, somehow, evidence of her involvement was handed in. Whoever it was, it was likely the one who knocked her out. Retribution was the natural course but she could do none of that at the moment.
There was one thing she could do and she did. A smile lit her lips as she thought of the email she sent. The moment word filtered down of the trouble that stupid pompous salarian had stirred up for himself on Ilos, she knew it was the golden opportunity. It was but child's play to implant the suggestion in him. Really, they were all so open, so easy to get into. Like little children. He must be dead by now. Too bad she couldn't see it herself. It would be so satisfactory. She was certain he made a mess. A laugh escaped her as she imagined the scene. The buzz from the desk console interrupted her. Annoyed, she marched over to it.
Can't I even enjoy myself?!
Her pique vanished when she saw who was calling; Trisio T'Enaire. Enabling the console, she said respectfully, "Your Eminence."
Cool azure coloured eyes regarded her for a moment. "I've an assignment for you. A party of asari medical personnel and commandos are making rendezvous with a Alliance shuttle. They are transferring an asari in their custody over to Assembly authority. I am sending a squad of commandos with you. You will replace the group with our own, meet the humans and take charge of that asari."
"Why is she important?" Jieull dared to ask.
"She is no ordinary asari. She is highly dangerous. Do not think you can take her one on one or as a group. She can and will kill you and any one with you within a few minutes if you provoke her. We want her full cooperation so no drugs, no threats. No tricks. We want her to come willingly. Do you understand?" The cold eyes bore into her.
"Yes, your Eminence." She affected humility that hardly fooled Trisio.
"If you succeed, we will reconstitute your identity and you may again prove your value."
Naturally, there was no need to mention what would happen if she failed. "I look forward to demonstrate my abilities."
"The commandos will give you more details. Your transport will arrive within the day." The transmission ended abruptly.
Jieull contemplated the dark screen. It sounded like a suicide mission. It was a suicide mission, she was certain. If this unknown asari was capable of killing many that fast, then... she frowned as a thought struck. Was Trisio testing her? So this asari was important. Was it her biotics? Her clan connections? Or something else? No matter, she would find out herself. Humming softly, she went off to pack. Finally, she was getting off the dreary planet!