Feros
Splorgh!
The creature exploded, adding another coat of slimy green goo to the stairs. Shepard hardly paid any mind to the stickiness underfoot as she continued her charge through the warrens of the ruins. Green lumps in the upper corridor began to morph when a green hue asari in green hardsuit popped up. Her arms moved. A generated biotic shockwave appeared, spearheading a wave of debris. At the same time, she shouted for the umpteenth time, "Transgressors! Die!"
More colour in her pattering could improve things. That's the tenth time she said that.
Ignoring the approaching biotic shockwave od debris, Shepard fired at the creepers. A shield flicked up around her as the biotic compression reached her; her own asari definitely was right on top of her field. Smiling at that thought, she pressed forward round the bend, swiftly knocking the clone off the edge of the stairwell when she attempted to ambush her at the corner. For an asari, the replica's biotics were strangely feeble but that could be because she was not the real McCoy.
There was one major strand left. The thought lent impetus as Shepard headed up the next level. The clattering footsteps of the others behind her half drowned in the creature's panicked rumblings that reverberated through the ruins. Briefly, she entertained the hope the vibrations would shake it free of its moorings. The mass of creepers that tried to mow them down on the next floor was doubled what they had previously encountered. Clearly a desperate attempt from the Thorian to stop them. It took the remainder of their grenades and a combined barrage of biotics and gunfire to clear the lot. The ubiquitous clone vanished as well, leaving a clear shot at the node.
Drawing the shotgun from the weapons mount on her back, Shepard emptied it into the large bulbous knot. The Thorian screamed as it exploded. The last thick strand that held the creature tore in a splatter of creamy vicuous liquid and green specked gore. Pieces of metal and debris rained down as it fell into the abyss of the ancient Prothean tower. Stepping carefully to the edge of the broken ledge, she peered down but could see nothing but yawning blackness.
"Too bad it couldn't take a little air pushing," Garrus said behind her. "A little more practise might have prevented the full blown version it's having right now."
"We're done here." She compacted the shotgun sharply and clipped it behind her. "Alpha to Beta, do you copy?"
"Loud and clear," came Ashley's relieved voice over the comm.
"Start setting up medical evaluation for the survivors at main base, we'll be there shortly." She turned to the others as Ashley acknowledged the order. "Come on, let's..."
"Shepard, there is something over here," Liara interrupted. The bulging node she was standing in front of seemed to pulsate with life.
The assault rifle was off Shepard's back in a flash. "Back up slowly," she said, moving to cover Liara as she complied. "Could be another clone."
"Or a seed?" Garrus said as he moved to a better position. "You know, the kind that's going to be looking for daddy."
"I hope you're wrong." Kaidan swung around to look at the numerous small lumps that covered the walls of the ruin, his rifle held in readiness. "If every one of those pockets hold a seed, we'll be knee deep in tiny pitcher plants biting for a piece of justice."
"That's cute. I'm not planning on..," Garrus broke off, tensing when something within the node wriggled.
With sudden abruptness, the node exploded. Shepard's own fingers tightened on the trigger as something large, bipedal and wet dropped to the ground. She stared dumbfounded as it unfolded. An asari. A creamy drenched purple hued asari in a damp bodysuit who looked at her own hands and feet as if she couldn't believe they were hers.
"I'm free...I'm...free..," the asai murmured, eyes wide before shaking her head and looked wildly at them. "I'm free! I'm free!" Her voice rose in a shriek of relief and joy.
Damn if she didn't look familiar. "Whoa, who are you?" Shepard asked suspiciously though her lips twitched; the asari's happiness was infectious.
Visibly gathering composure with some effort, the asari said, "My name is...Shiala. I serve...," she blinked and corrected herself. "I served matriarch Benezia."
"Benezia?" Shepard said at the same time as Liara muttered, "My mother?"
"Yes. When she followed Saren, I did the same." Shiala looked down at her hands again before meeting her eyes. "But he betrayed me, us. Now, I would serve you."
You. You. You.
"Hey wait, what?" Confused, Shepard looked around at the echoes that came from nowhere. Everything had vanished, except for her and Shiala. Standing in grey emptiness. How was that possible?
"We are one."
"Hey, now wait a minute." Her rifle, where was her rifle? She looked down at herself. Why was she naked?
"One."
Shiala was right before her. She didn't see her move. How did she move from there to here? And why was she nude as well? Her lips went dry and the blood thrummed through her veins. The asari was gorgeous. "No, no no wait. something is wrong. Wait, that's not how it happened," she babbled frantically as Shiala reached for her.
Thessia
No!
Shepard sat up with a yelp, hands pushing the air and realised she was struggling with a blanket. Startled, she took in her surroundings. Bedroom. Check. Her own bed. Check. No Shiala. Check. What the hell was that dream about? Squeezing her eyes shut, she ran a hand through her hair in agitation. Perhaps she was more upset by yesterday's revelations than she thought, that's why she was having such a dream. Or perhaps that conversation with Shiala had flipped her mind. But then, she was not supposed to be having dreams. Didn't Telienos say she suppressed them? So why did she have one? The sudden weight on the bed made her jump.
"Slept well?" Liara asked with a guarded look in her eyes.
"Ahh..yeah, it was...fine. No..no dreams," Shepard stammered, pushing the dream visions firmly out of her mind. "What time is it? You're all dressed up." She took in the thick warm outfit Liara was wearing. Where was she going?
"My appointment with the gynecologist."
"Oh shit." Shepard clapped a hand to her forehead. She had completely forgotten all about it. "I'm sorry I overslept." She winced mentally and began to throw back the blanket. A quick shower and she would be ready in no time. A hand on her arm stopped her frantic movement.
"It is all right. Aethyta is coming with me. You need more rest." Liara stood up after adjusting her boots and began to strode towards the door.
What's her hurry?
"It won't take me a minute to...," Shepard began to say but Liara shook her head.
"Remember what Telienos said? You have to spend some time in reflection." She walked back and bent to plant a kiss on her bondmate's lips, reaching to sweep back the stubborn strands of red hair that fell from her widow's peak. "We will be back for lunch."
She was gone before Shepard could pull a protest from the jumbled thoughts whirling in her mind. Befuddled, she stared at the door of the bedroom. Reflect. Reflect what? The tangled mess that landed in her lap? Rubbing her face, she wondered what she ought to do. A shower, then a walk in the gardens, she decided and got up.
There was no one in the hall when she went downstairs. That would soon change. She knew how fast Effia could appear; she suspected the matriarch had planted surveillance bugs on the stairs, and hurriedly headed for the front doors. The last thing she wanted was to see anyone, she needed to really clear her head. The cold that hit her in the face once she was outside was sharp. She welcomed it. Pulling the hood of her coat over her head and jamming her gloved hands into the pockets, she stalked off down the frosty path leading to the gardens. Stripped of lush growth, the bleak cold environs was oddly calming. Her quick strides slowed down. She frowned as she stared at the bare stubs of trees and bushes, the swirling in her head churning.
Closing her eyes, she imagined herself building a snowman. Focusing on building a layer, making that layer the first tier of problems she wanted to look into. Starting with the most recent event. Telienos said she wouldn't have dreams yet, she believed her. So what caused the strange dream she was having earlier? It had to be an outside influence. Was it Shiala? Why would she do such a thing when she expressed remorse and guilt in laying a bond link on her? Was she playing a double game? How was she to define the truth? What could she do?
By the time she roused from her musing and returned to the entrance, there was hardly any feeling at the tip of her nose. Her eyes felt rough and dry. She entered the house to find one of Effia's assistants waiting for her. She silently offered Shepard the mug in her hands with a smile and walked away once she had taken hold of it. She'd been expecting the housekeeper herself to waylay her but perhaps she was busy. She took a cautious sniff of the steaming mug; vegetable broth. Blowing carefully across the mug and taking small mouthfuls, she walked slowly to the guest wing, feeling the virtue of the broth and steam pushing back the cold in her hands and face.
Hopefully, her mother was still sleeping. That was a ridiculous notion at best but given that she was currently not on duty she might take the opportunity to sleep in longer. She could have gone off with Aethyta and Liara. Again, an extremely unlikely possibility. She'd bet every credit she had that her mother was lying in bed, stoking that displeasure of hers. Perhaps later in the day, they would have a screaming match. Her footsteps slowed further. She was almost tip toeing past the door of the room allocated to Hannah. No doubt Effia would find it highly entertaining and amusing if she was watching on the security vids. Coming to a stop at one of the doors at the back, she hit the buzzer on the door panel.
"Yes?"
"I've a few questions." She didn't bother to identify herself. If she could sense Shiala, the asari could also sense her.
The door slide open. "What is it?" asked Shiala, stepping back quickly when Shepard shoved into the room. The door slide shut.
Pushing back the hood of her coat, Shepard glanced around the room before turning to the asari. Was it her imagination or was Shiala somewhat uneasy? "Hungry?" She lifted the mug.
"I've broken fast, thank you," said Shiala, moving passed her to pick up a datapad on her bed and depositing it on the nightstand. "You have questions." She turned and pulled back with a start when she found Shepard standing next to her.
"Yeah, I've been thinking about what you said last night." Shepard put her mug on the nightstand and leaned in closer. "All that passion, whatever, over me."
Shiala took a step backwards. Her legs hit the bed. "I did say they were aberrations rising from..."
"They sound very interesting," Shepard interrupted as she closed in again.
"They're illusions spawned by illness."
"But you weren't sick last night." Shepard moved to block Shiala as she made to go around her. "And you know what? I couldn't stop thinking about it...maybe that's why I was having dreams about it all night-," she let a sultry drawl into her voice.
"Dreams? But I think..," Shiala began to say and gasped in shock when she was shoved backwards to fall on the bed. Before she could recover, Shepard straddled her, bracing her arms on either side of the asari's body.
"Let's not think. How about if we find out if they're illusions," she said as she leaned forward.
"No."
Shiala's hand flashed out to push her back. Grabbing the wrist of the hand planted on her chest before she could be shoved right off, Shepard looked searchingly at Shiala, ignoring the warm tingle at the contact. The places where their bodies touched ignited a siren call to do more than just talk.
"I thought not." Her right brow twitched. "Here's a question. What hell of a stunt were you trying to pull last night? You threw everything but the kitchen sink right at me."
"I was..."
"What?"
"Can we move this conversation outside?" Shiala said uncomfortably, looking away.
"No, we can't move outside until I get some answers. I'm tired of the dodgeballs some people have been playing for the last several years so spit it out,"
Shiala looked back at her. "I thought I was very clear, I don't want to create any confusion. I came here to help you understand what the Cipher is."
Shepard frowned. "Let's start with one thing I do want to know. Did you fiddle around in my mind last night?"
Shiala's gaze froze. "If you think I did it, then I did."
"Damn it, I'm asking you, not accusing you."
"I did it twice so what is a third..."
Shepard thumped the bed with a fist in frustration. "Quit pouring mud and crap on yourself. I think I know the difference between setting a bond link and rummaging like a bandit through someone's mind," she said angrily. "Why don't you be what you said you are and tell me straight in the eye?"
That stung Shiala. "All I did was to reveal to you the link I made between us."
It sounded like the truth. Shepard felt the tinge of honesty in the link. "That wasn't so hard was it?" She was glad it wasn't Shiala and yet unhappy because that left one other who could have initiated the dream.
Shiala could feel the unhappiness and the doubt. "Shepard, you don't think.."
Not wanting to hear a particular person's name brought up, Shepard interrupted, "What're you going to do now that you've dusted off the skeletons?"
"Do?" Shiala echoed in surprise. "Shepard, I came to help and to put myself under judgement."
"How many times are you going to kick yourself in the ass with it? What's done is done. If you want to atone, perhaps you can unmake it."
Shiala went a little pale. "I can if that is what you want."
"At what costs?"
They stared at each other. Shepard remembered discussing with Liara the consequences when a bonded asari lose her partner or vice versa. Not all bondings were the same. The deeper the bond, the harder the fall. Support from the immediate family, clan, friends and mental disciplines would usually see the surviving partner through the loss. Some however didn't take it too well. Shiala had suffered an almost similar loss through the dissipation of the Thorian spore links. It couldn't have been easy for her. Shepard didn't know the strength of the link between her and Shiala but she knew it would hurt the asari further.
"I can bear it," Shiala said bravely.
The hand on her chest seemed to burn. Shepard could feel the faint tremors of fear and impending loss from Shiala.
"No, Shiala," she said. The asari stared at her in surprise. "I would demand it if I feel nothing for you." She touched Shiala's face gently. "We will just have to figure out how to handle it."
Tears welled up in Shiala's eyes. "Shepard.."
"Shhhh, it's all right." Shepard leaned forward until her forehead rested against Shiala's. "We need time. You need to accept what you've done and move on. I've to find the answers to my problems." The scent and aura from Shiala drifted around her, tickling sensual awareness of the hands at her neck and smoothing down her back.
When she realised what she was doing, Shiala froze. "Shepard," she said with effort, forcing her hands to stillness, "we should adjourn the discussion."
"Yeah."
Shepard moved away but not before putting a chaste peck on Shiala's forehead. She picked up her mug from the nightstand. The vegetable broth had cooled but not too much. She took a mouthful as she walked towards the door.
"You'll be staying." She looked at Shiala as she sat up.
"Yes."
Shepard nodded and left.
Local Cluster
Earth, Unknown Location
Langdon's right leg jiggled under the desk as he went over the reports from various departments. Most particularly, he concentrated on the updates regarding those fugitives that disrupted operations at RF14. To his disappointment, there was not much development. The investigation into Taiga Provisioners had turned up the usual shady trading, profiteering and affiliations to blackmarket operations that might or might not develop into a problem in future. Nothing about the fugitives stood out. Their personal accounts and emails were clean. Too clean, in his opinion. There was one common aspect about the fugitives. All three had families in Alecto, one of the Terra Firma colonies. A dead end.
The other things of interest was the quarantine of several animals transported down from the Citadel, most particularly a hedgehog that was found rolled up in a coat. With the near extinction of fauna on Earth, the mammal was bestowed the best care it could receive though the boy who laid claim to it, could hardly appreciate it since he lost custody of it.
Putting aside the datapad, Langdon drummed his fingers on the desk as he sorted out several scenarios and options. Coming to a decision, he turned to the console and input the troop deployment he had in mind. The staff would have to nitpick and trouble shoot any shortcomings he might have missed at the meeting later. Encrypting the file, he turned to another report on the decryption of the Omega files. Cracking the core interlocking files was proving difficult. One mistake and an entire block could be destroyed.
Pulling at a stylus, he mulled over the problem. With days to go before the arrival of Ardones, the need to decode the files was urgent. Both EDI and the geth determined the blogs formed one part of a cipher but there was no clue as to the second. The so called blogger, Sirenic, did not exist in the xtranet nor in any colony or homeworld databases. They surmised the blogs were circulated and distributed within Cerberus's internal network so that was another dead end. Where else could they turn to? Or who? He called up another report and read it carefully.
Should he or shouldn't he? It was a gamble that could pay off if he could get Shepard to cooperate. She was still an Alliance officer. An order was an order. Surely, she could see the point of it? The comm lit up with a soft buzz. More distractions. Just as he was about to accept the call, another buzz sounded.
"Sir, you have a call from Palaven," said the comm officer.
"Patch it through." He dropped the datapad and turned to his console. A dark blue tattooed turian with a tactical visor over one eye appeared on the screen.
"Admiral Langdon, I'm General Vakarian."
A name he heard of often. One of Shepard's former sidekicks though he never met the turian himself.
"What can I do for you, general?" asked Langdon.
"On behalf of the Turian Hierarchy, I would like to extend apologies for the delay in apprising the Alliance on the turian 'artifact' that was found in the Sahrabarik System."
The turian dreadnought. About time. Langdon straightened in his chair. "It's logical that exhaustive investigations would take time," he said generously.
"Indeed," Garrus nodded. "There is no record of the artifact in our current databases. From metallurgical samples that were taken and analysed, it is clear from the degradation in the lower core substratum that the original inception date was 2120 CE."
Langdon's eyes widened. "Seventy years ago? That is quite an old artifact."
"Structural integrity lasts fifty years, tops. A short supplementary term would be added if there was need for it."
"That would require a major overhaul but even then, it couldn't remain in active service."
"That is correct," said Garrus. "The artifact would have been retired and taken to a sanctioned salvage yard. We are unable to verify if the artifact in fact did arrive at any salvage yard. We could only conjecture that it may have been scheduled for the breakers but was not broken down or it never arrived at all and was diverted elsewhere."
"Given the quoted time period," Langdon said carefully, "it is too early for a certain rogue element to have anything to do with it." Not unless Cerberus built a time machine.
"Agreed. We're looking into other connections in our purlieu. There is a strong probability that-," Garrus hesitated, "a Spectre operative could be involved."
Langdon frowned at that. Was he implying what he think it was? Or rather who. "Would this operative be involved in the attempt to open the Citadel relay to the Reapers in 2183?"
"He was very involved in that incident," Garrus said dryly. "There are currently no substantial information to implicate him with the artifact but there are suspicions that he might have been entangled in separatist movements for his own purposes. It could also be Reaper motivations. We are presently conducting extensive checks in every salvage yard that had been operational for the past thirty years. Judging from what we have uncovered, we have reason to believe certain defunct elements may have been appropriated as well and may be actively and illegally deployed at present."
Langdon's lips went dry at that. "That is disturbing to hear," he said quietly. "It is highly unlikely an isolated issue."
Garrus nodded. "It is imperative that every allied navy corps audit any records they have pertaining to transference and processing of military hardware for the past decade. It is proposed that the allied war council convene after the relocation of the Citadel to correlate data."
"I see no problem with that from my end," said Langdon. "We will support the motion."
"Then we have a tentative agreement. We will communicate further after the relocation. Until then. Admiral." Garrus nodded courteously and closed the link, leaving Langdon to cogitate over the information for several long minutes.
More and more, he felt like the ubiquitous janitor condemned to perpetually clean up after a foul mob that were two, three steps ahead of him. After this latest development, it seemed that the amount of trash that had to be cleared would be waxing infinitely. Heaving a sigh, he made a note of the proposed meeting and pulled up another datapad from the pile at his elbow. The less he mulled on it, the better. Perhaps one day, he would be the one ahead of the game.
Unknown Location
The spoon cut easily through the outer crusty layer to reveal the steamy succulent contents beneath. Saracino paused for a moment to breathe in the steam. The aroma of cheese was strong, intermixed with eggplant, beef, mushrooms and tomato sauce. The flavours delighted his tongue as he swallowed the mouthful and unbidden, memories assailed him. He looked at his dining companion. His pleasure dimmed.
"How does it taste?"
She looked up obediently, her hand stilled in the act of scooping another mouthful of food. "Very good, sir." She waited.
"Keep eating while it's hot." He watched as her head went down again, the spoon moved. "Do you remember? We had this the first night we went out. At that pub on the corner of 56th?" Her head came up again and wagged a silent negative.
"Piner's Suds," he continued. "You were wearing a red and cream outfit with a ushanka because it was so cold outside. You didn't want to take it off. It was warm in the pub but you insisted on keeping it on. When we danced, you were so uncomfortable and kept stumbling because you knew everyone was looking at you because of that damn hat. You were so stubborn-," he chuckled softly. "Then that drunkard came over-," he trailed off as his eyes fell on her face. Two blank blue eyes stared back at him.
"You will never remember." His hands clenched for a moment, the knuckles turning ivory, before relaxing. "Eat your food, Carrie." Her head went down again, her spoon moving smoothly.
He watched her for a moment before staring at his own bowl. Any interest in eating withered away. Pushing the bowl aside, he stared out of the large window. Tiny sparkles glinted in the dark of space but he hardly saw them. He saw instead the events of the past several years, rising and falling before his eyes. He had to wonder if he made different decisions, picked other choices, would he be what he was now. Would Carrie have remained herself or would she have simply vanished in the war?
The observation lounge was silent. He turned his head. She was sitting there, an empty bowl before her. Waiting. She lived. She breathed. She could respond. Her eyes stared back. Where was the real Carrie? He pushed her bowl aside and put a dish of kifli in front of her.
"Here, eat."
He picked up a crescent shaped pastry and handed it to her. They were one of her favourite desserts, usually preceded by a string of smiling witty remarks before the eating but now, there was nothing but blind obedience to his every word. He looked up when the door of the lounge open. Lance hesitated then walked in at his gesture. A pained look flashed across his friend's face when he saw Carrie, quickly stifled.
"What is it?" His tone was hard. He had no desire for sympathies, even from an old friend.
"Half the shipments came through." Lance looked at the star spangled view so he wouldn't have to see the two.
"What about the rest?"
"Will take longer. The impending move of the Citadel has most of the shippers scrambling to shift as much of their stock on ice as possible in light that it may fail."
"They're moving the Citadel?" Saracino said in astonishment. "How?"
"No one knows. There're a lot of wild stories out there but the Council wouldn't have made it public if it was impossible."
Saracino's unnatural ice blue eyes turned even colder. "You should have alerted me the moment you hear of it. I will have to make adjustments."
"To what end?" Lance turned and shifted under the glacial regard. He was not happy with some of the plans Saracino came up with. He had said so. He had argued. To no effect. He decided to change the subject. He didn't show up to quarrel with his friend. "The others are asking about you. Maybe you could drop by some time."
"Yes. Dropped by some time," Saracino said mockingly. "For a little social gathering? With Carrie at my side. The loving couple. Look at us, Lance. Have you seen the lovely makeover we have now? Aren't we perfect? We matched!" He spread his arms. "You can't look me in the eye now. What makes you think the others would be any different?"
Lance's eyes twitched to the couple and switched back to the window guiltily. They were people he knew and worked with for some years. A fun and yet dedicated couple, fierce in their dreams and ideals. Yet he couldn't bear to look upon them now, not when they looked half dead. Like the dreaded husks that over ran conquered colonies. Carrie looked the worst. How long before her human outer shell disintegrated?
"I-," he began.
"I don't need your pity," Saracino cut him off brusquely. "I did what I had to do, just remember that. For the good of all."
"You will not be remembered for the good you did." Lance tried not to snap, turning to face his friend. He tried to visualise normal eyes over the blank blue and failed miserably.
"Are we having this debate again?" Saracino laughed. "Still unhappy over what I've decided? Lance, Lance, have you forgotten? No one on the other side knows who's running the gig so how am I going to down in the annals of history as the ultimate villain when they don't even know my name? To them, I'm just the mad yapping three headed dog."
"But I will," Lance said quietly. "We will."
"What of it?" Saracino said dismissively. "The end justifies the means."
"Not this way!" Drawing in a sharp breath, Lance exhaled slowly. "Not like this. Everyone has suffered in the war. Millions have already died. Irregardless of the disunity, we should not inflict further grief on the survivors. If we fail, they're all that's left. Please," he pleaded, "there's still time. Call it off. You have persevered, achieved so much, don't let hatred mar the memory of your vision."
Why was his friend so dense? "It's not hatred that drives me. You don't see it, do you?" Saracino said. "With one swift stroke, I strike an advantage for us. With less resistance, those who will come in our footsteps will find their tasks that much easier. We will rue it if we don't tear them apart right now."
"No, we don't-," began Lance heatedly.
"Lance, you're too soft hearted. In times like this, compassion has no place. Save it for our own. Don't-," he grated angrily when Lance made to argue, "bother wasting your breath. I'm not changing my mind. If you insist on airing those views, I suggest you take them to our compatriots who may be more appreciative," he suggested, having no doubts that there would be those who would prefer not to besmirch their cause with more blood.
Throwing him a glare, Lance turned to leave the room, unable to bear standing there any longer.
"Did you do what I asked?" Saracino asked, arresting Lance in mid-step.
Tempted though he was not to answer, Lance said, "I did. All is ready." Yes, I did but not in the way you want it to be.
"Then everything will fall into place." Saracino was pleased. "You will eventually see what I mean, Lance. You will know I'm right."
Lance couldn't find a suitable answer to that. Not with anger and sorrow bubbling within. "Is there anything else?" he said instead.
"No."
Saracino's gaze lingered on the closed door for a few minutes after his friend walked out before falling on his silent companion, the plate before her empty and dusted with crumbs.
"Eat your food." He placed another pastry in her plate. "We share the same vision, don't we, Carrie?" he said as she picked it up and bit into it. There was no reply but then, he was expecting none.