Unknown Location

The jolting woke him. Confused, Raz looked around him. Though it was dark, he was able to make out the square confines of his cell. He remembered where he was. Or rather where he shouldn't be. His head ached. They had drugged him again. How long was he unconscious? How long? In a brief moment of panic, he felt himself all over, searching for any signs of modifications. He sniffed. The air was foul-smelling. He knew where it came from. It wasn't from the auto-clean commode in the far corner. The source of the effluvium was himself. That in itself was somewhat assuring for he detected no trace of foreign chemicals.

However, it was a reminder that he hadn't cleaned himself for how many weeks now? It was difficult to keep track without his omni-tool. There was no other time keeping devices in the cell. Nor were there any windows for him to look out to. Another jolt shook the small structure, not hard enough to fling him off the bunk he was lying on but enough for him to realise there was too much movement and too much noise outside. His cell was being moved. He prudently elected to stay where he was.

It was doubtful he was still on Illium. If he was, his cell was probably tucked away in one of the hundreds of warehouses on the planet. Judging from the the whine of servos, the clanging of heavy metal, with no hint of any echo, the thrum of engines he could feel subtly vibrating the frame of the bunk, he was willing to bet he was off planet. So where were his captors moving him to? Perhaps they had decided on the use of one of their exclusive torture facilities to make him talk. Not a pleasant future to contemplate when he suffered months of torture under the hands of his former employer years ago. A very dead former employer now. He was not sure he was up to another long session in the hands of another or if he would even survive it.

That he was alive to be snared again was due to the happy fact he was rescued before his employer decided he had enough of fun watching him squirm. This time however, he was certain no one would have any idea where to look for him. It had been weeks since he last made contact with Liara. His schedule was erratic of late. She knew he would send her something when he could. His auto alarm would have notified her by now. If she realised he was in trouble, Illium was the place she would start looking, pulled in his contacts but by then, he might be dead.

The few agents he had on Illium were not reliable and might lead her into a trap. One of them, he was certain, had betrayed him. That was one of the side effects of the Reaper War. Archives and lives were disrupted, scattered and destroyed. Piecing back the tattered shreds of a web that had spanned more than seventy decades was not an easy task but it was an endeavor he heartily supported, given what she had done with it during the war.

The current climate being what it was, it was slow work. Easy enough to hire muscle for the simplest tasks. Credits loosened tongues to wag sufficiently but not for the core that would form the structure of the web. Recruitment was slow and cautious for he trusted no one but himself to conduct thorough checks of potential recruits. Combined that with the near impossible task of ferreting out information on the TI and Cerberus agents, progress was frustratingly slow, almost non-existent. His former employer would have him put down for incompetence for having so little to show after five years of digging. His current boss was more likely to counsel patience.

The cell trembled slightly, drawing his attention back to his present predicament. He waited. Ever since he was drugged and woke up to find himself incarcerated in the cell, he did not have any chance of meeting his captors face to face. The initial interrogation was brief and conducted through an intercom mounted on the wall opposite the bunk. The voice of the interrogator was clearly synthesized, he could not tell if it was male or female but something told him it was the former. He was asked for his name and origins. Nothing else. He had given his alias and unexpectedly, he was left alone. Not a good sign. Either they knew who he was or they were simply waiting for something else. There was only one adversary who knew exactly who he was. He hoped he was wrong. If he was right, sooner or later, they would go after Liara and there was no warning he could give her.

What's wrong with me? I already know that! Think, think of a plan.

He thumped his head, struggling to clear his thoughts. A faint crackle from the intercom. He tensed.

"You are awake," the familiar disembodied voice stated flatly.

Advantage to his captors; they could observe him at will. He sat up. "Where have you taken me?"

"Some where, for a time, where you have to stay."

For a time? "How long?" he demanded. "If you're thinking of making me..."

"Talk?" the voice interrupted. "Unnecessary. We know exactly who you are."

"So who am I?" he challenged.

"You used to be an information trafficker before assuming a more important role in the Terminus Systems for the Shadow Broker."

"The Shadow Broker is dead," he said evenly, despite the quickening of his blood. Cerberus, he was caught by Cerberus. How long would they wait before they start tinkering with him?

"For a while. We know how the network was used during the Reaper War. Unusual but prudent in its direction." Was that approval he heard? The voice continued. "The cost was high. You are currently one of the few surviving operatives from that network, looking to rebuild as you work concurrently with the Systems Alliance. Under the name of Raz."

They knew too much but that was expected. Mentally, he reached for the mantra his father had taught to calm himself, keeping his entire body relaxed by force of will.

"We know what you are looking for."

He held his tongue. So far, they had pounded out fact after fact but he didn't deny or affirm the truth of the statements. They could be guessing. Admittedly, their guesses were dreadfully dead on target. "So what am I looking for?" he said finally when the intercom remained silent.

"The galaxy is plagued by a rot left behind by the reapers. The Alliance have reason to regret not to weed the garden more thoroughly. Shall I elucidate?"

"If you know so much, there's no value in keeping me, is it?" he said grimly. They should know using him as a hostage would have little effect. Unlike the influence her late mother could wield, Liara still had some ways to go before she could even have that same amount of leverage. It may take her a few hundred years and more. By then, she would be formidable but he wouldn't live long to see it even if they didn't kill him now.

A bark of laughter from the intercom. "For a drell, even you must understand that the dust underfoot has its intrinsic value."

"What do you want?"

"While you were unconscious, we have stocked supplies for you. Enough to last several days. You will be released once the pre-determined schedule has been reached. Whatever you decide to do, is up to you."

"Why?"

"Decide wisely, Feron. Whatever come to pass, depends on you."

Silence. He waited before realising whoever it was had imparted whatever he wanted to say and left. "Wait!" he shouted, slipping off the bunk and winced when the lights in the cell blinked on in response. He shielded his eyes until his vision adjusted. Outside, he could hear the sound of engines. Not heavy enough for a freighter. Shuttle? Pounding on the door of his cell, he shouted, "Why are you doing this?! Who are you?"

There was a muffled heavy reverberating down blasting of engines. The shuttle was taking off, leaving him behind. But where had they left him? It was futile to try the ventilation grills, he had already tried without success to find a weakness. There was nothing on him or in the cell he could use to force a way out. They made sure of that. The noise from the engines grew faint and then vanished. There was no other sound outside. It was if he had been left on a dead world.

Turning around, he saw the crates at the foot of the bunk for the first time and opened them. One contained energy bars. The other, bottles of water. He counted the energy bars. Thus far, they gave him meals three times a day when he was awake. If they were expecting him to keep to the same routine, then they had supplied him victuals to last ten days. But could he be so complacent just because they had made sure he was fed regularly? For all he knew, it could be more than ten days before he was released. If they really meant to free him.

Rationing and meditation, he decided. That would ensure supplies would be ample after ten days. If it turned out they had lied, he would deal with that situation when it come. There were ways in which he could slip off into the abyss painlessly. Until then. He lay himself on the bunk and prepared for the first cycle of contemplation. As he closed his eyes, the lights went out.

Thessia

Despite the glow of the ceiling lights, the emanation from the monitor was even brighter or so it seemed. Blinking rapidly as the font turned blurry, Nyrine closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. She sensed the presence of the guard sentry on the upper catwalk a short distance away. The familiar faint aura radiated unusual tranquility. It seemed rather surreal, given the tenebrous shadow that dominated and nearly tore apart the mores of the asari for the past year. It was no wispy dream that would disappear. She opened her eyes. The evidence was on the screen before her.

In response to the public challenge from the Assembly months ago, maidens from surviving colonies and the outer reaches had returned to Thessia. The numbers were beyond expectations. Civilian and military academies had to extend their existing lodging capacity to accommodate the influx. Foundations of new residential towers were being laid. It was not just the maidens, matrons who had chosen to settle offworld were also returning, imparting their experience and skills in several civilian sectors. The effect of these new additions was realised in the form of a stronger intensive and determined collective aura that could be felt everywhere.

The chronometer chimed softly. Straightening in her chair, she looked at the monitor and wondered if she should continue with her work. From the dullness at the back of her mind, she knew she would not have the focus. That and the aching twinges she was feeling. Time to move around. Closing down and securing the console, she freshened up in the bathroom before stepping out to a well lit empty corridor. As she made her way to the lift, a patrolling guard appeared from one of the side passages. Other than a mutual nod of acknowledgement, the guard did not stop and continued on her way. Her beat, as Nyrine knew, intersected the paths of another two guards and was purely random, making it more difficult for any intruder to predict the exact positions of any of the patrols at any given time.

She took the lift down to a quiet CIC. Only a skeleton crew was standing watch. The watch duty officer remained at her station at a gesture from Nyrine. She sat down at an unmanned terminal and called up the latest logs. She read them quickly before moving to the schedules of the day. There was a supply flight to Armali scheduled that morning, she saw. Just the thing to shake out her kinks. Overhead, a series of moderately loud chiming sounded, signalling the changing of the watch. Almost right on the last note, the morning watch arrived. Shaking her head to a query of help by the operator of the terminal she was using, Nyrine cleared away the data before handing it over. Toggling her omni-tool, she made a call to the shuttle pilot.

She made her way over to the messhall. It was empty except for a few commandos grabbing an early breakfast. She made a pass at the serving counter where the cooks were putting the final touches on the hot pans for the crowd of recruits that would appear soon. The aroma of hot food tickled her appetite. Over a meat roll, a plate of fruits and a cup of tea, she chatted with the cooks, taking note of any complaints. Conversation died away when recruits and their minders began to appear. All signs of sleepiness and twitchiness vanished the moment the first pair of sharp eyes spotted her presence and passed the word. Under her gaze, the queue moved quickly, greetings were murmured respectfully as recruits moved past her.

Finishing the last of the tea, she disposed of the dirty crockery and headed out, aware of which way the recruit conversations would turn once they saw the direction she was taking. Memories of her own rookie years floated to the fore. How long ago that was. She surprised several recruits on punishment detail for disciplinary lapses at the barracks. Their dismay was comical to see despite their efforts in maintaining an impassive mien; she had to wonder if she had been that transparent herself. Her inspection was desultory. There was no cause to interfere in minor infractions. Any serious breaches would be brought to her attention by division commanders. Thankfully, there was none since the academies were set up. The current generation was more somber. They knew what they signed up for.

A brief word with the sergeant in charge of the miscreants and she continued on to her destination; the officers' locker room next to the shuttle bays. It was empty but she could hear voices and water from the showers as she opened her locker and put on her undersuit and hardsuit. It felt good to be wearing it. She reached for her pistol and was about to clip it to her belt when she realised the weight was off. She brought it up. It was the wrong pistol. The lower trigger guard was sheared away. The dark stained barrel was badly scrapped and chipped. As she stared at it, a ghostly broken voice whispered, almost lost in the cacophony of battle.

I'm sorry.

A shot echoed. She shook her head, clearing away the vestiges of memory. She tucked it away under her spare clothing and clipped on the right pistol. The shuttle bays were a cacophony of noises when she reached them. A constant hive of activity and noise at every hour, mechanics and technicians labored over gunships and shuttles. Weaving in and out among the parked vehicles, she made her way to the shuttle at the perimeter landing pad. Cargo handlers worked briskly to load crates into the cargo compartment. A nod to the watchful commandos as she moved to the cockpit.

"Captain," the pilot said as she hooked her helmet to the rack overhead and dropped into the co-pilot seat. "This is the last load. Once they're done, we're good to go."

"Pre-flight?" Nyrine called up the latest satellite scan.

"Twice."

"Looks like we're getting a light snow dusting for the next few hours," she said as she studied the weather report.

"Yes, sir. No sightings along the perimeter. Shall I confirm our flight plan with ASC (airspace control)?"

Nyrine nodded, then ran another systems check. One of the commandos came in to report cargo was secured before returning to the cargo compartment to buckle down for the flight. With tight seal confirmed on hatches, the pilot brought the engines to half power. Once they cleared the shielded outer walls of the landing bays, she steered the shuttle on the approved flight path in the higher altitudes. Switching one of the screens to the view outside, Nyrine sat back in her chair.

The city was awashed with lights in the darkness. A glowing flower with a radiating nimbus. Nyrine could stare at it forever. It was the one sight she closed and opened her eyes to from the windows of her apartment. An apartment she specifically looked for with such a view, for this purpose after the war. To assure herself that it was over. That everything that were lost and sacrificed, had not been in vain. Her people would endure and prosper.

Tiny white flakes fell against the windscreens of the cockpit and melted beneath the thermal current, leaving tiny trails of water that froze swiftly in the freezing wind. Blazing strobes of light atop the perimeter towers floated towards them as the shuttle headed swiftly westwards. As it neared the defense walls, the pilot answered promptly to challenges from patrolling gunships and watch towers. Then it was over the perimeter and out in the wilds. Nyrine monitored all scan readings carefully. Though TI attacks on Kelice had dwindled down to almost nothing in the past months, a lone shuttle might be too tempting a target. The last thing they needed was a barrage coming at them.

The shuttle glided serenely over huge swathes of snow covered terrain. The brown bare core of trees bristling like spines out of the indistinct ruins of several villages. Presently, sparkles of lights appeared in the grey mists of dawn. More challenges were directed at them which the pilot dealt with quickly. The grey hulk of a geth dropship appeared. The shuttle dipped beneath it to spiral down to the huge encampment nestled in the broken remains of buildings. The frames of shattered skyscrapers rose in the distance as the shuttle landed on one of the landing pads north-east of the staging zone. As soon as the engines tuned down, a squad of recruits jogged up, popped the hatch and immediately began to off load the cargo with help from the commandos.

With temperatures near zero outside, Nyrine latched on her helmet before exiting the shuttle. Her eyes fell on a hardsuited figure waiting for her, standing clear of the activity.

"Tell me you left a message for Sanar this time," the captain said with mock severity over the comm.

Nyrine deliberately injected uncertainty. "I don't think so, Vatia,"

"This is the third time, Nyrine," Vatia sighed with grave exaggeration. "Even Athame would find it very hard to overlook this negligence."

"I think she might be a little preoccupied to notice I'm missing." Nyrine shrugged before reaching out to grasp her friend's arm in greeting.

"Found someone has she?" Vatia waved towards the nearest prefab building. "Morning break is ready."

Nyrine shook her head. "I had something earlier." She started for the distant barricades. Vatia fell into step. "How're they doing?" she asked, brushing away flakes of snow that clung to her helmet visor.

"Understandably anxious and jittery. I still stand by what I said. It's too soon to send them out on patrols."

"Izharia Vantios and I agree with you." Nyrine nodded when a passing recruit squad snapped a salute in their direction. "But unless we can come up with another alternative to give the veterans the ameliorative cycle they need so badly, we're stuck with the situation." She waited a beat but Vatia said nothing. "The recruits have borne up well in the defense of the spaceport," she continued, "we have to try to move them to the next stage."

"Standing behind a defense wall is not the same as venturing into enemy territory," Vatia said bitingly, her boots crunching hard in the snow.

"Every probe we sent out returned negative scans. Even the geth couldn't find anything a hundred klicks out," Nyrine pointed out. "All they're doing is recon in pacified zones and protect the work crews."

"The geth can do that. I don't see why we have to risk the recruits."

"I'd rather not. We're over dependent on the geth." Nyrine glanced up as the wall of the barricade loomed over them. In the soft misty light of dawn, the geth dropship seemed to glint.

"They've been so helpful, there is no reason not to use them at this point." Vatia stopped in front of a pair of lift doors, palmed them open, her hand flicking out to hit a button on the control panel as she walked in. "They're machines, more expendable than recruits." She crossed her arms as she leaned against the wall.

Nyrine wished she could rub the itch on her nose. "There is every reason not to ask their aid if we are to build a capable defense force," she said. "Before we forget, they're not simple machines. They're sentient, not expendable."

Vatia stiffened at that rebuke.

"For all our much vaunted ascendancy, we did not fare very well against the Reapers did we?" Nyrine said softly. "Nor did we do any better against the Rachni or the Krogan. We had to rely on the strengths of our allies. A strength we kept using as a shield to protect ourselves. We can forge and consolidate concord among opposing coalitions but our inability to provide a convincing imprint in three galactic conflicts have cost us. The last, was the worst."

The lift came to a stop. They stepped out to a misty vista of the ruined city of Armali. Leaning on the ledge of the rampart, Nyrine nodded towards the grey steel rubble. "There lies the legacy of our failure."

"The Reapers were impeccable, how would it have been any different?" Vatia said irritably.

"We would have been better prepared, more would have been saved," Nyrine said bleakly, recalling the chaos in the days preceding the invasion. "Every single major conflict in the past threw out warnings that the doctrine that served us for so long would fail at some point but we ignored it. We chose to rely on the sanctity of our long lifespans, confident that our beliefs, our past achievements would overcome any hurdle. We failed to take the opportunities to evolve when we could have. We are our own betrayers, Vatia."

"Throwing recruits into patrols is not progress," Vatia said, the stubborn glint in her eyes visible through her helmet visor.

"And shielding them is?" Nyrine cut her off sharply with a gesture. "If we followed the usual doctrine, the recruits wouldn't even be sent to the spaceport. They would still be sitting in the classrooms, studying manuals. The old ways cannot sustain us any longer. This is our time of fire, Vatia. If we balked now on this simple task, it defeats the entire determination for a new beginning. We must have a more versatile and stronger military force to face what may come in the years ahead. The only way to achieve that end, to address our dire need, is to face the challenge of adversity without reservation."

"You've been learning from the humans," Vatia observed, disinclining to name who it was she thought was exerting the influence. "Perhaps we should pick up bullying tactics from them as well," she said dryly

"Would that be a bad thing?" Closing her eyes, Nyrine sighed. "We have more factions now than before. Geth, Krogan, Rachni. Once foes, now allies. Who is to say we would not face them again? Who is to say that the humans or even the turians would not be our enemies in the future?" She felt Vatia start.

"Would it really have come to that?" Vatia said sombrely.

"Anything is possible, old friend."

Silence fell. The sound of machinery and vehicles starting up in the encampment drifted in the cold wind. They moved along the rampart, passing a Gardian turret emplacement before they had a clear view of the camp. Far below, construction crews ran final checks on carriers and equipment. Squads of recruits gathered with several other regular troops before their assigned gunships, very much aware of the importance of their mission; patrol and protect the work crews as they work to extend the area of reclamation. The first stage of reclaiming Armali. Nyrine watched as commandos went up and down the lines, no doubt reminding them of their objectives.

Everything seemed to freeze when the alarm went off. Below, everyone scattered. On the rampart, both officers ducked down, hearing the whine of the Gardian turret as it turned to track something at the horizon. Along the barricade, every turret was focused in that direction as troops and recruits began to appear, taking up positions. Switching over to command channel, Nyrine said, "This is Senior Captain Rylaer, report."

"Incoming lone UFV (unidentified flight vehicle). No answer to hails. No transponder."

That could only mean it was a TI vehicle. Vatia tapped Nyrine's shoulder, pointing towards the horizon. At that distance, the visor enhancement could barely make out the target. The outline was indistinct but it looked like a gunship. As Nyrine watched, it dipped dangerously down before the pilot made corrections. Or tried to. It was not maintaining altitude at all, she realised. With the way it stuttered in the air, it was going to crash well before it reached the outer wall of the barricade.

"Hold fire," she said, looking at Vatia who nodded.

"Request confirmation on that order."

"This is Captain T'Vay," Vatia said. "Affirm. Have drones on standby at gate gamma-two."

The gunship fell steadily, the angle of its descent growing steeper and steeper, almost nose-diving to the ground. Such an impact, Nyrine knew, would completely obliterate the gunship. It pulled up suddenly, narrowly missing the jagged spires of a tower, struck the broken roof of a large complex along the way and spun out of control. The wings and tail snapped off in the mad whirlwind across the icy terrain before tumbling to a stop, leaving a trail of broken debris.

"No one could have survived that," Vatia murmured as a large shadow thrummed overhead. They watched as the geth dropship hovered over the gunship. Several bundles dropped down to the ground, to unfold into geth troopers. "I don't believe it," she said in amazement when the cockpit hatch popped open. A figure stumbled out before falling. The geth approached cautiously. Seconds passed. Their comm beeped.

"Captain T'Vay, the geth report one survivor. No perceivable threat. Orders?"

"Set up a containment tent outside gate gamma-two. Medical team on RI (retrieve and inspect), tie in LF (live feed) to AMC (Asari Medical Council)."

"Yes sir. Link to HC (high command)?"

"Stand by. Have all patrols and crews stand down until further notice. Maintain alert one."

One of the geth troopers bent down, picked up the fallen figure and began to run to the gate. Despite the distance, it reached it long before the medical team arrived. Looking over the edge of the rampart, Nyrine watched as the tent was set up. Both the geth and the pilot vanished into it.

"Can't be a prelude to assault." Vatia scrutinized the horizon. "Satellite scans are clean. A stray?"

Nyrine said nothing for a moment, the image of the limped body in broken hardsuit fresh in her mind. "Just how far do you think they have degenerated?"

"The first in the wave of projected suicides?" Vatia seemed to brighten. "Confirmation would bring inspiration to many."

The thought of it ought to make her happy but Nyrine was anything but that. She paced slowly along the rampart, inspecting the soldiers. Except for the single hash mark on their sleeves, the more exuberant touch of their auras, the recruits were indistinguishable from the regular troopers.

"Captain Rylaer, this is Dr Thorton. I'm transferring the patient to KML (Kelice Medical Laboratory)." The baritone voice was a surprise to Nyrine. What was a human male doctor doing so far out?

Gesturing to Vatia, Nyrine made for the lift. "She's still alive?"

"She's dying but we need the lab facilities if we want to maintain her bio functions. State of cybernetic transition is at 80 percent, remaining bio systems are barely detectable-," his voice turned faint. She could hear him issuing orders. "No, get me the tricyplex and ..."

A shuttle was lifting from the landing pad when they exited the lift and went through the security gate. The observation window of the tent was facing them. They could see medical personnel huddled over the pilot on the examination table. Wires and tubing were everywhere. All they could see of the TI pilot was a pair of booted feet. Then someone brought in a layered protective suit. The tallest figure made gestures for the medical attendants to move back. Doctor Thorton, Nyrine presumed. Shock held her immobiled when she finally saw the pilot.

The bodysuit on her upper body was cut away, exposing the changes. There was hardly any flesh. From the skeleton-like torso down to the legs, everything was withered black with tracings of cybernetics. Gorge rose to Nyrine's throat; the pilot's features were still recognisably asari despite the blackness. The crest was sloughing off, as if parts of it had been decomposing for some time. But the eyes that should have been the cold glow of husks, were impossibly still organic. Alive. Aware. As the medics made connections and began to suit her up, a shaking dark claw-like hand rose, almost imploringly, to touch one of the attendants on the arm.

"Goddess." Vatia turned away, sounding sick.

"By Athame." Nyrine stepped away from the window, swallowing hard. "Her eyes..."

The shuttle landed, blowing up a tiny snowstorm. Within minutes, the medical team and their cocooned patient were onboard.

"Orders?" Vatia said quietly.

Staring after the rapidly disappearing dark speck in the sky, Nyrine shook her head. "Put everything on hold until further notice. At least, until we find out why she appeared as she did."

"Would we?"

"I don't know. But did you see it?"

Vatia nodded shakily. "I hope she dies along the way."

"She's so young." Nyrine's shoulders slumped. "How many more like her are out there?"