MASS EFFECT: INTERCEPTOR 2
*Episode Twenty-Five*
Arlen's hands were still cuffed, though Captain Callidus had mercifully re-attached the bindings so his arms were now in front of him, allowing him to rest them on the table. Arlen stared down at his hands, at the armour that was new only two days ago. With all the scratches, scrapes and faint bloody stains of more than one colour, it looked like he'd been wearing those gauntlets for years. It was an idle musing he tried to keep at the front of his mind, if only to distract himself from his current situation.
He knew very little of the Kanderax, save for the rumours he'd heard during boot camp, and most of the recruits had dismissed those. A secret dreadnought bigger than any ship ever built and more powerful than the Destiny Ascension seemed the stuff of conspiracy theories and bad spy vids. Yet here he was, alone in a small white room deep within that behemoth.
It had seemed an endless walk from the hangar just to get there as Callidus marched him through the ship, with only the protrusions of countless hatches and doors to break the monotony of what had appeared to be one continuous bulkhead running the length of the flat. Countless turian crew members stopped to gawk at the Blackwatch officer and her prisoner, murmuring to one another over who Arlen could possibly be to require such a high profile escort. For his part, Arlen had kept his roiling fears to himself, showing a cold face to them all as he walked. Now that he was alone, however, he couldn't keep that despair in check. His green eyes twitched back and forth, always coming to rest on the cuffs around his wrists.
The charges were absurd. He'd had nothing to do with the turian homeworld, let alone the military. He was utterly convinced that he'd been brought aboard the Kanderax by the same party that had supplied the T-Seven to Crimson First, and that he was to be the scapegoat for the theft. It would remove him from the hunt for the bomb and stall the investigation into who really stole it, all in one fell swoop. It would at least delay things enough to allow the real perpetrators to gain more distance on their pursuers. Once more, Arlen had been outplayed.
His head rose as the door opened and in strode Callidus, her metallic blue features a wall of naked dislike. She was alone, though Arlen could see the other two Blackwatch soldiers standing guard outside as the door slid shut. Callidus took the seat at the opposite side of the table and propped her elbows upon it, glaring at Arlen over the peak of her clasped fingers.
Finally, the grating pitch of her voice filled the small room as she asked, 'Why did you do it, Kryik?'
Arlen met her crystalline eyes with a stubborn determination he didn't truly feel. 'This is ridiculous. I had nothing to do with the theft of that bomb and you know it.'
'Do I?' Callidus snorted. She produced a datapad, its display already lit in honeyed shades, and slid it across the table. 'As I said before, your genetic code was used to disable the DNA-locked security systems for the vault on Menae.' She reached over to tap the datapad with a finger. 'These are the logs right here. Considering you're the only surviving member of your family, the only person in the galaxy who could provide a match for Renius Kryik's DNA, I don't think that leaves much room for interpretation.'
Arlen scoffed. 'That DNA could've come from anywhere. The spirits know I've lost more than enough blood over the last year to fill a damn freighter. It could've come from my boot camp medicals, the C-Sec evaluations, anything. I can prove I was on assignment at the time the T-Seven was stolen, you have nothing to support this insanity.'
Callidus' voice rose a fraction. 'You didn't need to be present at the time of the theft to be complicit, Kryik. There are plenty of omni-tool programs out there that can fool even the most complicated biometric scanners, all they need is a sample. And there were no break-ins or unauthorised withdrawals of your genetic material reported by either the turian army or Citadel Security. Try again.'
Arlen's nostrils widened as he hissed out a breath, his fury mounting. 'My investigation has already uncovered a possible rogue element in the turian military. You can't trust this,' he nodded at the datapad, 'or any of the official records, they could be compromised. You're being manipulated, Captain.'
The screech of Callidus' chair filled the room as she stood suddenly. 'Don't give me that garbage! I don't care about your investigation and I'm certainly not buying this conspiracy crap! You were involved in the T-Seven's disappearance and I want to know right now how and why you pulled it off. Believe me, you're better off confessing to me here and now, before the authorities from Palaven get here. I promise you, they won't be as gentle as I am.'
Arlen growled in frustration. It was clear that Callidus wasn't interested in anything he had to say. That alone made his eyes narrow in suspicion.
'Come to think of it,' he muttered, leering up at her with palpable hostility. 'Isn't this all a little convenient? I return from putting my life on the line to get that bomb back and the second I get back to the Citadel, you show up and slap the cuffs on me.'
Callidus wavered visibly, confusion flashing over her features. 'What are you talking about?'
Slowly, deliberately, Arlen rose unbidden to his feet. His voice was a low snarl, 'When did they get to you, Callidus? Or have you always been one of theirs, just waiting for your chance to silence me? I hope whatever it is they're offering you is worth it.'
He wasn't prepared for the fist that snapped out, an armoured hammer that cracked against his nose, knocking him to the ground and sending his chair clattering across the room.
'You bastard!' Callidus roared. That hatred Arlen had sensed on his arrest was back, lining her every word with venom. 'How dare you suggest such a thing!'
Arlen tried to back away reactively from her but Callidus skirted around the table and was on top of him in a heartbeat, pressing her knee against his throat. He choked as her eyes held him, aflame with uncontrollable fury.
'You're just another traitor,' she spat, 'just like that bastard Arterius. You threw away your honour, threw away all your oaths and you have the gall to accuse me? The Empire's suffered enough thanks to the actions of scumbags like you!'
Her voice was like the savage hiss of a serpent, angered and roused to a frenzy. Arlen was shocked at the strength it lent her, and after a few moments the crushing force on his throat receded as Callidus got up and retrieved the fallen chair. She returned it to the table before hauling Arlen to his feet and shoving him back down, her wiry strength astonishing.
Arlen was still coughing and gasping for breath as Callidus resumed her position, her temper under the barest threads of control as she seethed, 'I've read your file and I know how you operate, Kryik. Turians like you are what's holding us back. You do your own thing, forsaking the rules and structure that makes the Empire the envy of all the galaxy. You're nothing but a selfish child, made rotten to the core by an arrogant, corrupt family. Prison's too damn good for you.'
Though his first, spiteful instinct was to provoke her further, Arlen resisted the urge to do so as he gathered his senses. He still wasn't positive Callidus wasn't aligned with his enemies, but her anger seemed sincere. Her innocence wouldn't make her any less of an obstacle to him, however, and he knew that should he be taken away from the Citadel then his part in the T-Seven hunt would be over. Even if he was exonerated, it would take months of incarceration in the meantime, and that was something he couldn't allow.
Callidus read nothing of his thoughts as she leaned over the table again. 'I'm heading out to report to Admiral Kaion. Protocol - you remember what that is? Protocol demands that I brief him on the prisoner stinking up his ship. In the meantime, I want you to have a good, long think about what you're going to tell me when I get back. You've got thirty minutes, if that.'
Arlen said nothing. He simply returned Callidus' hard stare, prompting her after a time to turn her back to him in disgust. Her exit was as abrupt and loud as her earlier outburst as she strode out of the room. No sooner had she slipped out the door than the pair of guards moved in, keeping a wary distance from Arlen and their fingers on their triggers. No doubt they'd been briefed on his martial skills and wanted to keep as much space as possible between them.
Arlen fought the desire to let despondency settle like thick dust on his mind again, instead shaking it free with plans of escape. He had thirty minutes, probably less, before Callidus came back. One way or another, he would be ready for her.
~~~ME-I2~~~
The twin spikes of the Kanderax's superstructure stretched out before Admiral Kaion as he gazed out of his cabin window. The sight was always arresting, the best part of two kilometres of turian engineering sprawling before him like a city, close enough to reach out and touch despite the thickness of glass and bulkhead that lay between them, wider than a turian's arms outstretched.
Kaion wore his robes over his armour that morning, an imposing combination that granted him both power and prestige in his appearance. They were each a dark blue, almost black, that only served to accentuate the harsh white spikes of paint on his face, each freshly applied. After hearing from his various spies of the latest developments regarding the missing T-Seven, he was in a mood to be seen - and to be respected.
His cabin terminal chimed, drawing his attention, and he crossed the compartment to answer it.
'Kaion.'
'Sir?' It was one of the many signal operators in comms. 'We have a secure transmission coming from an unknown source. It's clean but the source is requesting to speak to you directly. They have Spectre clearance.'
The last words were added with a slight hint of suspicion, making Kaion grin. Some among the comms centre were familiar with Prax Cingetos, but a ship the size of the Kanderax held such personnel in the dozens, not the handful. He wasn't surprised to hear the wariness in the crewman's voice.
'Patch him through,' he ordered. A separate function on his terminal would ensure the call would be unheard by anyone outside the cabin. He didn't need to wait long, and spoke as soon as the connection was established. 'Prax, you have news for me?'
His pleased expression fell, the vertical white lines on his face lengthening as a flat, emotionless female voice filled his ears, as far from Prax's as it was possible to get.
'I wish I could express pleasure at finally making your acquaintance, Admiral, but your interference in my affairs has soured me towards you immensely.'
'Who the hell is this?' Kaion barked, his finger hovering over the disconnect button.
'My name is Furia. Do you know of it?'
Kaion's mandibles flexed for a moment. 'Yes. Yes, I do.'
'Then you must know it was my agent you had murdered in C-Sec's custody. While I admire your dedication to the preservation of your patron's secrecy, you should know that Avrix Ferrata had pledged himself to me before the end. You interfered with my business and though I understand, even respect your decision - not to mention your eye for talent in who you chose to carry out the task - it is interference I cannot sanction.'
As he usually did in such meetings, Kaion placed his hands behind his back and began to pace the cabin.
'You've got some nerve contacting me directly on my own ship,' he said brusquely before adding, 'I respect that. But you know you're not talking to a friend here, not after you decided to turn Ferrata against the Kryik boy.'
Furia didn't respond. Kaion decided that this woman whom his "patron", as she called him, had warned him about didn't know the full extent of the admiral's awareness. It was unusual, Kaion knew, for people associated with their organisation to know so much, and he judged the trust placed in him was now clear to Furia.
If that revelation was surprising, let alone unknown to her, it didn't show in her flat, even tone. 'That is none of your concern, and if you believe that involving yourself in affairs above your station will earn you more favour, you are sadly mistaken. The League values discretion above the blind pursuit of goals. Discretion permits long-term survival.'
'Discretion?' Kaion snorted. 'Like the discretion your leader showed a year ago when he shut down the Citadel and tried to kill the Council?'
Again, there was a contemplative silence at the other end of the line and again, when Furia replied it sounded like the indifferent drone of a VI. 'You are certainly well-informed. Either your patron has foolishly entrusted you with a great deal, or your influence is much wider than one in your position would usually command.'
Kaion allowed himself a small, triumphant grin. 'My patron is certainly no fool.'
'I see. Then perhaps you will entertain a different proposal.'
Kaion's brow plates raised a fraction but he stayed quiet, allowing Furia to carry on.
'The Kryik boy is dangerous. Until now, we have been satisfied that his private investigation into our affairs has come to nothing. To kill him after Yanus' capture would have raised too much suspicion. However, recent events have shown that even though one can tie up loose ends, others will inevitably appear. The act of covering one's tracks is a business that requires constant attention, until it grows so demanding that the only recourse is to eliminate the threat completely. We consider the time is now right. You have the boy in your custody. Kill him and you will be handsomely rewarded.'
His lips firming, Kaion's jaw worked subtly behind his mandibles. 'Is this a request from the League, or from you?'
'There is no distinction.'
'Oh, I think there is,' Kaion sneered, resuming his pacing. 'Ferrata took your offer, took your credits. He went against his orders and I was forced to send Prax to silence him. How long before I can expect another to find me, even here, and drag a knife across my throat?'
'Ferrata ignored our warnings. He was too slow to run, and Citadel Security caught him long before your assassin found him. You are not so stupid, nor so easy to reach. The circumstances are different and rest assured, your reward will be appropriately larger to compensate.'
'Is that so?'
'I know your career, your rapid rise through the ranks, your command of the Kanderax; much of it is owed to your patron. I can give you even more.'
'I've already been promised more.'
'Irrelevant,' Furia stated dismissively, her voice finally bearing the slightest hint of frustration. 'The offer stands. Before you decide, however, know that those who involve themselves personally in the affairs of their patrons are invariably retired at the earliest opportunity. You are no exception. You are difficult to reach, but you have no shortage of enemies and the galaxy is filled with those whose need for vengeance exceeds their sense of self preservation. You can be gotten to, Admiral.'
Kaion inhaled, regretful that this woman was not present in person. He didn't know her species, her appearance, nothing but her name. That alone, however, was more than most in the galaxy could hope to discover. There was a world beneath that which ordinary men and women knew, a layer of worlds, nations, societies and organisations. Some had names that were recognised - the Shadow Broker, Cerberus - but many more were submerged beneath strata of rumour and conspiracy.
It was one of those powers with whom Kaion now dealt, and he felt the prickle of power as a literal tingle beneath his fingertips. He'd always enjoyed holding the cards in his interactions, every bit as much he commanded his fleet while on deployment. It didn't matter who he faced, nor whether the battlefield was the empty void of space or a stuffy conference room on the Citadel. He plotted and manoeuvred, predicted and counterattacked. He felt the moment was right as he appeared to digest Furia's threat.
'You'll hear of my decision,' he remarked pithily. 'For now, the only th-'
Suddenly, his door intercom buzzed, signalling a visitor and he didn't bother to contain his irritation at the interruption.
'Yes, who is it?' he asked sharply.
'Captain Callidus, Sir,' came the reply.
It was an expected one, and Kaion cut the call with Furia without warning, both to avoid being overheard and to make a point. 'Enter, Captain.'
Callidus marched smartly into the cabin and stood to attention.
'Stand easy,' Kaion permitted formally.
The Blackwatch officer's hands moved behind her back and she dipped her head gratefully. 'Thank you, Sir. I'm here to report the prisoner is in custody. He's been disarmed and is being held in one of the briefing rooms for now, awaiting transfer to Palaven.'
Kaion ambled back to the window and resumed his steady watch over the Kanderax. The Citadel lay beyond, turning implacably as always, the lights of the Ward arms bright in their shadows.
'I've already sent word to Fleet Command,' he said evenly. 'There will be no interrogation team from Palaven.'
Callidus couldn't prevent the shock and dismay from showing on her face as Kaion turned back to her.
'What?' she gasped. 'But Sir, I...I don't understand. The boy's a traitor!'
'Perhaps,' Kaion admitted with a minor dip of his head, 'but perhaps not. Nothing has been proven yet. Be assured, I'm not allowing his release but for now, I want Kryik moved to the brig. He is to receive food, water and medical attention, anything he needs to make him comfortable for the time being.'
The order brought a visible pall of uncertainty over Callidus. Kaion looked on as the captain's eyes moved to the ground and she took on the look of a turian who'd swallowed a particularly bad piece of meat.
'Is there a problem, Captain?' Kaion asked. His tone was neutral but his gaze danced with amusement at the transparency of her disappointment.
Though it took a few moments, Callidus regained her composure. She straightened to attention once more. 'No, Sir. No problem.'
Her bitterness was impossible to disguise but the admiral's orders were clear and there was no room for interpretation.
'You're dismissed,' Kaion said and noted the rigidity of Callidus' subsequent salute.
'Yes, Sir,' she replied before turning to depart.
Kaion watched her leave, then went back to the window once the door was shut. The rest of the Citadel Fleet had moved into view, directly in line with the main gun that ran down the centre of the Kanderax. At its head was the Destiny Ascension, that undaunted, perpetual symbol of asari dominance he so despised.
He grunted softly to himself. Despite Furia's talk of interference, it was on her account that the Destiny Ascension was still there to blight Kaion's vision. Perhaps the chance had passed to correct that, but no opportunity was lost forever. His tactical mind began to turn, anticipating how Furia would react to his next move, and though the predicted outcomes were enough to make him want to sweep the board clear there was one overriding factor he couldn't neglect to consider.
'How did she get your frequency, Prax?' he said quietly, his eyes filled with the lilac hues of the Serpent nebula. 'First Ferrata, now you...'
~~~ME-I2~~~
The unique cadence of reporters' voices had filled Antus' small home for some time now, ever since he - along with the rest of the turian embassy's staff - had received an urgent communication on his omni-tool to stay away from the office that day. It was only at the mention of an explosion at the asari embassy that he'd rolled groggily off the couch and got up to squint intently at the vid screen on the wall nearby. It had been left on overnight and now the Citadel News Network was filled with images of a burnt-out shuttle being hoisted out of a lake.
Empty liqour bottles were scattered across his living room floor. After his fight with Novari, his first instinct had been to make the pain disappear, and he'd emptied his drinks cabinet over the course of the night. To the envy of many of his friends when he was younger, he was rarely afflicted by serious hangovers but that morning was an exception, and his eyes were blue-rimmed as they gazed unblinking at the vid screen.
There was no mention of Novari as the news anchor narrated the grim scene. The only victim seemed to be her assistant, the very one who'd caught Antus breaking into his boss' office, who'd appeared to have started some kind of relationship with Ciro himself.
Antus dragged a hand down his face slowly, his mind racing with the implications. The question of whether Novari was responsible for what happened kept rising, and it made him realise how little he truly knew of her. Their relationship had been a torrid physical affair, driven and heated by the danger of treason and espionage, but as he searched every moment of their time together Antus despaired as he found little to suggest Novari was incapable of murdering the Saverra girl.
The asari with whom he'd fallen in love could be vicious and unfeeling at times. Her temper was legendary, even among her own peers and subordinates. Ciro had always said that he found her the most stern and uncompromising of all the diplomats he'd worked with. That she'd displayed something deeper and more vulnerable to Antus didn't wipe away the times she'd been aloof and uncaring, occasions he had always dismissed as symptoms of stress over her work. Their recent evening at the restaurant sprang to mind, how Novari had all but ignored him until the moment he produced the OSD recording of Ciro and Admiral Kaion's meeting. Still, he never once entertained the notion that she might have just been using him, let alone that she could murder anyone.
A human reporter at the embassy, a woman with short black hair and golden skin, began to deliver what would undoubtedly be the highlight of her professional year, 'This is Emily Wong live at the asari embassy, where a quiet and peaceful Presidium morning was shattered by the explosion of a sky car right outside the embassy doors. Though details are still unavailable at this time, Citadel Security are not ruling out a malfunction with the vehicle, but neither are they denying this could be a deliberate attack against the embassy itself.'
Antus lost interest as she ran through the details. He plucked a half-empty bottle of Palaven gin from a small table beside the couch. While he was confident the turian embassy would be closed along with all the others that day, he knew he couldn't have cared less either way.
Wong's manufactured concern continued to resound through his apartment, '...comes just days after rumours of a bomb in Zakera Ward led to a search involving more than a quarter of C-Sec's active officers. Already, many are calling for yet more security measures to be put in place despite fears of mounting public surveillance following the geth attack on the Citadel six months ago...'
Growling, Antus muted the screen with an aggressive stab at his omni-tool. He would hear the same words countless times over the course of the day but for now, he wanted nothing more than to forget he even existed.
The fresh silence was broken almost immediately by the flat note of Antus' front door buzzer. He cringed as he lifted his head too quickly, alarmed by the sudden noise. For a moment he considered simply ignoring it, but it wasn't far-fetched to assume C-Sec may be questioning the workers of other embassies about the bombing - and Antus had no doubt it was exactly that. He staggered a little as he climbed to his feet and made his way to the door. As it opened, his eyes grew wide.
It was Novari. Her skin was waxen, the silver she applied to her lips and chin now smudged into dull streaks where her tears had run into the paint. Instantly, her eyes met his, and Antus saw a terror in them that he'd never before witnessed.
He stepped aside, not needing to be told and without the need to ask her to come in. Novari hurried inside and Antus took a cautious glance around before closing the door and following her into the living room. As Novari slumped on the couch, all the words of remonstration Antus had prepared overnight evaporated into nothing at the sight of her.
The asari was a wreck. The skin around her eyes was puffy and exhausted, and she trembled as if she'd just climbed out of an icy river. It was a state in which Antus had never seen her, and all their troubles of the previous day were cast aside unthinkingly as he sat next to her and pulled her into an embrace. Novari didn't resist, and as she buried her face in Antus' chest she let out a heavy sob.
Turians were not small creatures but Novari's tallness forced her to shuffle until she was almost laying down, and even then her long legs still touched the ground as she clutched Antus needily. He murmured to her and stroked the curves of her head. He knew then, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that there was no way she was responsible for what happened at the embassy.
Novari's words were muffled as she pressed herself into him with a desperation that took Antus aback.
'I didn't know! I didn't know…' she repeated, collapsing into sobs again. 'We argued. I chased her out into the street. She got into the shuttle and...'
She couldn't finish. Grief and shock stole her words, and Antus squeezed her reassuringly as another bout of tears came. He shushed and tutted, continuing to caress her head ridges. His heart broke at the sound of her weeping. It barely occurred to him that it was the first time he'd heard it.
'Its okay,' he said softly. 'You're safe. I won't let anything happen to you.' A thought made him look up at the silent but animated vid screen before him. A wide shot of the crime scene played out, scores of onlookers and C-Sec officers filling the walkways outside the embassy. 'Does...C-Sec know you're here?'
At that, Novari's head rose in alarm. Her eyes, though purple and bloodshot, were still the same complex blue gems that Antus adored. Now they looked to him pleadingly, and her voice matched them.
'No. I got a message from someone, someone I trust. Probably the only person in the galaxy I do trust apart from you. They said I had to leave, right there and then. They even created a distraction for me, giving me the chance to escape. I ran and I didn't look back.'
Antus shifted uncomfortably. 'I don't understand. Who is this person?'
'She's a government agent,' Novari confessed, still holding his gaze. 'I don't know her real name, or where she is but I've worked with her for nearly five years now. She was my handover contact for all the information you gave me.'
'I see.' Antus cleared his throat as he turned his eyes back to the vid screen, though he didn't watch it. His voice took on a raw, rough quality as the alcohol he'd consumed made itself felt with all the force of a knife in his gut. 'I guess I shouldn't be surprised. It's standard practice, after all. I had a contact of my own when I...'
Novari raised a hand, gently clutching at the fabric around the bowl of Antus' collar. 'When you what?'
'When I...was spying on you.'
The words brought both Novari's hand and her gaze down. She stared blankly ahead but made no effort to prise herself away from Antus.
'How long?' she asked.
'Until about six months ago,' he confessed. 'Then, after the geth attacked, I...reassessed my priorities.' He looked back down at her. 'I was on the Presidium when those machines came, on my way home from work. They started shooting indiscriminately, gunning down everyone in the area. There was a young girl, a human, couldn't have been much older than a teenager. She was in front of me when she was shot. I wasn't even aware of what was happening as her blood splashed all over me.'
The words were delivered in an emotionless drawl as Antus delved deeply into memories that he hadn't shared with anyone until that moment. He'd spent all his time trying to come to terms with them, and perhaps that was why he couldn't help but continue, distantly and dispassionately.
'I threw myself into a lake to get away from them. I let out my breath. I didn't want to float to the top. I wanted to sink down into the darkness, where the geth couldn't find me. Even then, I expected to feel the fire of their weapons tearing into my body at any second, all the way down.'
Novari had been away from the Citadel during the attack. Antus knew she couldn't have fully understood the horror of that day, and for that he was grateful. Still, she held him tighter, her own expression worried as he went on.
'I don't know how long I was down there, but when I couldn't hold on any longer, I broke the water's surface. My lungs were burning and I barely made it up in time. Everything was on fire. But the geth had moved on and I was alone. It was then I knew...'
Once more, Antus met Novari's gaze. 'It was then I knew that I was in love with you. Once the embassies reopened I made it clear to my handler that I was done stealing from you and your people. I cited fears for my safety as the official reason, and they didn't question it, not after what happened. But in my heart I told myself that although death will find me one day, when it does it's going to be in your arms, with our daughters watching over me as I join the spirits.'
Despite herself, Novari smiled. 'Our daughters?'
Antus shook his head gently. 'I know it's presumptuous, but yes, our daughters. I don't know why, but I always saw three whenever I pictured our family. All smart, strong and every bit as beautiful as their mother.'
Novari chuckled. It was a musical sound, one that she rarely made. Her reply was light with the kind of fleeting hope that defied all misfortune to express her deepest yearning.
'I want that too. I...I know that with all that's happened, the chances of a normal life are...' She broke off and raised herself back into a sitting position, and she took Antus' hands in hers. 'I have diplomatic protection, and my contact will see to it that I get safely off the Citadel. But Goddess help me, I'm only going if you can come too.'
Antus didn't know what to say. He felt unable to take his eyes from their entwined hands.
'I didn't want it to be this way,' he mumbled. 'I wanted you to achieve your goals, reach the pinnacle of your career, get on the path to becoming that respected matriarch you always talked about. I didn't want to-'
Novari's touch on his cheek guided his gaze to hers. She smiled with something that Antus could only guess was relief, or something very close.
'I don't care about any of that,' she told him earnestly. 'Everything's gone to hell but you're still here, just as you've always been. I love you. I don't need anything else.'
Antus leaned forward and once more wrapped his arms around her, speaking softly, 'I love you too, Siya.'
They sat for a time, content to try and forget the troubles of a tumultuous galaxy for just a little while. Antus knew that soon, there would be decisions to be made. Nothing in the universe was as simple as their desire to just run away together, but for that moment at least, there were no fears or cares. There was only the desire to leave it all behind.
~~~ME-I2~~~
Prax gripped the ridges of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, trying to dig down deep between the plates. Ever since Bekenstein, there had been a pain in his sinuses, no doubt inflamed by some alien allergen carried on the wind. His current location was far, far worse. The tiny, dark room that constituted the least favoured of his safehouses was warm even beyond a turian's preference, and the only light to be found was a series of thin yellow stripes across the only window.
Prax had no interest in opening the blinds any more than necessary to get his bearings. He wished to live in blissful ignorance of where he now was, as far as his sanity would allow. The stink of hot garbage was ever-present on that planet, and it was one of the few places in the galaxy that compelled Prax to carry his entire arsenal with him out of necessity alone.
Even without the darkness, the only things to be seen in the room were a bare cot and basic comm terminal. The place was never meant to be used for more than a day at the most, and Prax didn't even intend to stay that long. He activated the terminal and keyed in a frequency. A covert comm buoy chain would carry the signal through a network free of most civilian traffic, and Prax's Spectre status would afford his call the highest priority.
The connection was made instantly and Admiral Kaion's sharp voice was like a dagger thrust in the air. 'I was wondering when I'd hear from you.'
The statement was not friendly and Prax frowned. 'It wasn't easy getting here, Sir. A turian on Bekenstein is hardly a common sight as it is. I had to move underground and lay low until nightfall to make my escape. Thankfully there's no shortage of smugglers on that world, or we wouldn't be speaking at all.'
'And the package?' Kaion asked, almost nervously.
Prax sat on the cot and flexed his fingers, working out the aches that seemed to be getting more common at his age. He felt the T-Seven's weight against his leg, even through his armour. The thing had inexplicably become heavier the longer he carried it. Perhaps he was simply getting tired or it was as he suspected, that he carried the burden of the turian people with him - and that burden was certainly increasing with every life he was forced to take for the Hierarchy.
He spoke quickly, realising Kaion's question had been left hanging for some time. 'Yes, Sir.'
'You're sure you weren't followed?'
Prax's frown deepened. The admiral sounded odd, without the usual confidence that made his voice strong.
'Certain, Sir,' he replied slowly, supposing that perhaps the stakes involved would be enough to test the nerves of any turian. 'But if it would set your mind at ease, I can stay here for a few days, let the trail go cold before I deliver the package.'
That was not a thought Prax wanted to entertain. This hovel in which he squatted was barely more than derelict, and yet it was still the safest and cleanest place on this particular planet. Just the idea of laying around with little to do but count the passing junk ships was enough to drive him mad.
'No,' Kaion replied without hesitation. 'While the risk of exposure is too great to have you travel to the Citadel, I can't allow the package to remain out of our hands any longer. I'm arranging a handover. You'll transfer the package to a fellow operative, I'll forward the details once this call is terminated.'
Once more, Prax couldn't help but note the clipped quality to Kaion's speech. It was far from the usual comfort shared between two old friends and it made the Spectre wary. He'd been in the world of danger and secrets far too long to simply dismiss the change in manner.
Before he could query it, Kaion disconnected the call and Prax was left to wonder just what exactly had transpired in those short few minutes. His omni-tool beeped in receipt of a message moments later and as he opened the device, his perturbed expression became one of outright suspicion.
As Prax's eyes moved slowly over the mail, digesting its short, clear instructions his mandibles twitched with distaste. It was then he couldn't contain his fears that something had indeed changed with Kaion in the time the Spectre had been away, and he made a silent promise to himself to not place his old friendship above the instincts that had kept him alive for so many years.
~~~ME-I2~~~
It didn't take Arlen long to come up with a plan, though in truth, there were very few options to begin with. Most of it hinged on Callidus herself, and he could only hope that he was correct in his assumptions about her. If he was wrong, then improvisation would have to suffice. Either way, his chances of success were depressingly slim.
He turned his thoughts to other things, if only to take them away from the likelihood of imminent death. He looked about the room, noting its basic lines and lack of any defining features. The Kanderax may have been the largest ship ever built by his people, but it still conformed to all their conventions. There was no ostentation in its appearance, from the hangar bay to the narrow flats and corridors, and if Arlen hadn't already seen the ship from the windows of the Citadel there would be little to suggest it wasn't simply several cruisers welded together end to end.
As one long minute bled into another, Arlen's mind was forced to look back over everything that had happened over the past week, no matter how hard he tried to think of anything else. He picked over a hundred details, things he could have done differently, mistakes that could have been avoided. It was a pointless exercise, he knew. In the heat and urgency of the moment, there was only ever one course of action but that didn't take away the relentless, withering guilt of both Maro Cannis and Petra's loss.
His attention snapped back to the present when the cell door opened and Callidus entered. She left the door open and muttered something to the guards, who departed with a shrug. When she turned back to Arlen, he could see something had come over her. That inferno of hatred in her eyes was still there, but her face held a subtle trace of indignation. It was far more obvious in the way she stiffly crossed the room, her every movement heavy with reluctance.
'On your feet,' she snapped. 'I'm taking you to the brig, further in the ship.'
Arlen made no effort to move. 'Is that right? I thought I was being shipped out to Palaven. What's changed?'
'None your damn business,' Callidus replied, her voice like the lash of a whip, but Arlen didn't need her to confirm it. The answer was written across her white-painted face. The only reason he would be taken into a more secure area of the Kanderax would be if they didn't intend to move him anywhere in the immediate future.
Again, Arlen gave no indication that he was going to shift. His tone was relaxed, 'Not to tell you your job, Captain, but isn't that a breach of…what was that word you used? Protocol?'
She didn't respond. Her hands hardened into fists against her thighs and Arlen decided to press her.
'Isn't that a little suspicious?' he murmured carefully, holding her gaze. 'A traitor like me, being kept here? Maybe Admiral Kaion doesn't mind delaying your investigation to reap the glory of handing me over to the authorities. Or maybe there's something else going on here.'
'Nothing's going on,' Callidus fumed, taking a couple of steps forward. 'Now get to your feet. I won't ask again.'
Arlen obeyed, but did so as slowly as he could, speaking as he rose. 'Is that why you're so angry? Because you won't get that big checkmark next to your name in the annual reports? Or is it because you wanted to take me somewhere dark and quiet on the way to Palaven? Somewhere nobody could see you put a round or two in my skull?'
Callidus had begun to breathe heavily, her patience fraying. Her eyes didn't move a fraction but Arlen noticed all the small tells and he focused on them as he paced towards her, one shuffling step at a time.
'You call me a thief and a traitor, but you're just as dirty, aren't you? Whether you want to kill me for giving turians a bad name, or because you're just another lackey of whoever's behind all this, it doesn't matter.' He stopped and sneered, 'When it comes down to it, you're just one more soldier gone bad. Just like Saren Arterius.'
It worked.
Callidus let out a snarl and lunged at Arlen, but he'd rehearsed the moment dozens of times in his head. His instincts and training did the rest. With a slight shift of his weight, Callidus slipped past him, her features now taut with panic as she realised her mistake. In the same movement, Arlen turned and took hold of the pistol strapped to her thigh.
The weapon was unfurled and ready to fire in the same instant Arlen brought it to bear, his cuffed hands no impediment to the entire action. Callidus stood rooted to the ground, caught in a coiled stance but with enough presence of mind to know that any small motion would result in her immediate death. Even in his peripheral vision, Arlen could see the yellow icon of armour-piercing tungsten rounds indicated on the pistol's barrel. It would only take one slug, two at the most, to put Callidus down.
'You son of a bitch,' she muttered shakily, grunting as Arlen pressed the pistol to her head. 'What the hell do you think you're doing?'
'I'm getting off this ship,' he said. 'And you're going to help me.'
'Piss off,' she hissed. 'You might as well kill me now, because I'm not helping you do anything.'
Arlen lowered his voice into an intense rasp. 'Yes you are. You are because at the back of your mind, you know something's not right about all this. More than that, you're afraid. You don't want to die. I know what that looks like, Captain. I've seen a man kill himself to avoid capture. I've looked at myself in the mirror after having everything I've ever loved taken away from me.'
He knew the words were as much for himself as for Callidus, and he blinked slowly. 'I know it looks like when someone doesn't care about death, and you're not one of those people.'
Despite her trembling limbs and short, sipping breaths, Callidus kept a measure of resolve in her voice. 'You don't know shit about me, Kryik.'
'I know you haven't called for help,' Arlen pointed out. 'There aren't any guards outside but there's at least a couple thousand crew on this ship. Somebody would hear you if you did.'
In spite of everything, he respected the captain's courage and he tried to leverage it into his words as he went on.
'Believe it or not, I'm not the bad guy here. Somebody's playing us both, trying to stop me looking for the T-Seven. That's the reason I can't let you keep me here. I've already killed a fellow agent to keep myself on that trail and I will do it again if you force me to.'
Callidus didn't need to know who Maro Cannis was to hear the truth in Arlen's voice. Something gave way in her, resignation relaxing her as she slumped slightly, defeated.
'I want you to lift your right hand,' Arlen instructed, 'and remove these cuffs. Slowly, now.'
There was no physical key for the handcuffs, only a release button at the furthest point on the wrist shackles, far out of the reach of questing fingers. Still, Callidus could reach it with ease and her eyes didn't leave Arlen's as she gingerly prodded at the cuffs. The manacles fell to the ground with a clank and carefully, Arlen took a step back.
'Pick them up and secure the same hand. No sudden moves,' he ordered, recalling this was her primary hand and she wouldn't be as comfortable using her left should she try anything foolish. He lifted his own arm. 'Do it.'
Callidus clapped the cuff around his left wrist and cursed as Arlen jerked her forward, unbalancing her.
'You're escorting me to the shuttle bay,' he said, ignoring her baleful glare. 'We're going back to the Citadel.'
