Chapter 1: The tip of the iceberg

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Afterlife's hypnotising music went into a lull as DJ's switched out, beginning the "day" shift. Nicolas walked out of his private room sporting a business suit that he hated to admit had been inspired by a certain Illusive Man's style, and sat down at the couch overlooking the club below. As he sat down, he tugged at the collar of his shirt to better conceal the greyed skin below his jawline. There was a dull ache in his ribcage and the back of his neck that had settled in during the past few weeks that not even Hal could explain. The antibiotics he'd been taking to stave off infection in his weakened flesh had all but destroyed his digestive system, so he was surviving on a blend of processed food and pasteurised liquids. An asari hurried down the steps onto the balcony with a glass of water and a mug of coffee on a tray. Nicolas nodded his thanks, and the asari walked away. He gulped the water down and began to nurse his coffee, shaking off the last groggy remnants of the previous night's sleepless hours. His omnitool vibrated as a guard came closer.

"Operative Jensen is about to arrive, sir. I'll fetch the waitress in case he wants something to drink."

Baker sipped his coffee as he saw the stern Cerberus operative walk up to the higher level out of the corner of his eye. He gave Abel a small nod over the rim of his cup when he was a metre away.

"Sit down, Jensen. I can't be bothered to shout so you can hear me. Want a drink?"

"I have cochlear modifications, you can whisper from over there and I'll still hear just fine," he said as he sat down beside Nicolas. He dismissively waved the asari waitress away.

Baker opened up his omnitool, "I read the reports last night. Five illegal chemical labs have been closed and their buildings cleared. I want 200,000 square metres for housing. How's the citizen relocation office holding up?"

"The citizen's office is running smoothly, the ones being transferred to housing have been good at self-organising. I'm worried about the housing space, though. If we dedicate 200k, there'll only be 100k left for Cerberus…"

"Yes, but do we have as many homeless inhabitants as we have Cerberus troops?"

"Mr. Baker…"

"Come on, Jensen," he made it a point to call the operative by his last name, marking a distance between themselves. Cerberus was a strong collaborator and sponsor to what was now his operation, but it could be catastrophic if his authority was brought to question. "There are still 2 million homeless people in Omega. Cerberus troops account for a little over 5000 people. I highly doubt Cerberus has beyond 100,000 operatives to spare, so how many more troops are you expecting they'll send?"

Abel Jensen pursed his lips, his brow furrowed in annoyance for a split-second before relaxing. The change in his features was minute, but Baker caught it and broke the silence, "You see my point, right?"

Abel put on a smile, though his brow went back to a frown, "Yes, sir. 200k for the social housing project. 100 for the troops. I'll get to it immediately," he said as he stood.

Abel's departure left a bitter taste in Baker's mouth. The Operative's pressuring towards making more space for troops made him doubt whether there would only be 5000 troops for very long. As far as his communication went with the Illusive Man, heavy ordnance would arrive at the station to prepare for the Reaper invasion, not troops. Of course, hangar spaces were reserved for this, and more were being built. It didn't make sense, then, to prepare and destine enough housing space to double their operative numbers.

Outside Afterlife, Abel mentally brought up the thought of his right-hand operative, and his omnitool made a call, patching the audio through to his translator.

"We'll have to use the large block for the vagrants. Round up 5000 human and turians, and put them in the unit. Ship the humans we have left. Purge everyone else."

…

The turian reporter listened through her earpiece as the hosts of Omega News & Bounties introduced her part in the daily news roundup. She took a couple of deep breaths as she glared at her hands as if it would stop them from shaking. She'd been practicing her lines and her gestures for days. In a moment, the "LIVE" light on her recording drone lit up and she brought the prop microphone up to her mouth.

"Hello, citizens of Omega. We are live from the newest housing project under the supervision of Cerberus, here in the Gozu District. Only a few days ago, this area and the warehouses directly below us were entirely taken up by a Red Sand refinery and distribution centre, controlled by the Blood Pack. According to raid reports, the facility could produce and mobilise three tonnes of Sand daily. Now, the area is going to be used for social housing that will be able to comfortably fit up to 7000 residents."

The reporter walked into the building complex, guiding the camera towards a line of people who were being ushered by Cerberus troops. Most of them were human, but back in the studio of Omega News & Bounties, a Cerberus operative was controlling the drone remotely to focus on the turian members of the line while using a VI to modify the footage itself and insert individuals of other species. As the reporter could not observe her feed, none was the wiser.

"While the initial population will be of 5000 people, it is expected that within a week, 2000 more people in vulnerable situations will be relocated here and entered into the social reinsertion program."

The hosts back at the studio butted in, "That's a lot of people. How can Cerberus deliver on those numbers?"

"Thanks to the Overseer's prioritisation of funding towards the social program, and grass roots movements, this whole operation is possible. Omega receives a high amount of material and resources to build housing facilities within the spaces that are freed up from illegal activities by Cerberus, while the residents themselves are responsible for the majority of the social reinsertion program's success."

The reporter walked up to the resident that had volunteered before the broadcast to say a few words. The turian was wringing her hands as her pupils dilated from stage fright. She leaned towards the resident as she spoke to the camera, "here we have Lissana Trondius, a reformed turian who is now in charge of driving accessibility in the reinsertion program," she put an amicable hand on Lissana's shoulder. "Hi, Lissana. Can you tell us about how you are able to find a purpose for the new residents so quickly despite the high amount of people coming through your office?"

"Hi, Omega News," she also leaned in towards the reporter and spoke to the camera before shaking her head at the silly opening. She gave a nervous chuckle and continued, "It's no strange secret, just manpower."

"Where does the manpower come from? Does Cerberus bring in social workers?"

Lissana shook her head, "most of our help comes from Omega residents who didn't need to relocate," she said as her mandibles wavered, "we- we have cultural specialists cooperating with social workers and addiction-specialised doctors to process all new residents. After the health check, they go on several group and one-to-one interviews to find the best place within the living unit to reside, and are given a part-time job in exchange for credits."

The reporter nodded as the woman spoke before facing the camera one last time, "I bet it sounds a lot more straight-forward than it really is! Well, that's our time. Back to the studio!"

In the service tunnels between Gozu district and the higher levels, Garrus Vakarian knelt against a wall, hunched over his omnitool so the light wouldn't travel far. He spoke quietly, confident that his AI friend would be able to hear him through the translator earpiece, "She was lying."

"Who, the reporter?"

"Lissana. Any turian with half an ear would be able to hear it, but the reporter was also up to something," Garrus thought back to his years in C-Sec. Gestures that undercover agents would use to communicate simple, yet key messages, but at the same time were inconspicuous to untrained or non-turian eyes. There were angles that were awkward for turian mandibles to be held at, yet any other species wouldn't give it a second thought. It was a smart way to evade human suspicion that had been developed in the Relay 314 Incident. Garrus asked Omega's overseer when he'd have time to discuss more stinger operations and found the nearest cab station. There was a lot to discuss, and way too many eavesdroppers.

"How are the drugs busts going?" Nicolas asked, making a perplexed face as Garrus came within earshot, on the VIP level of Afterlife. What's this about, the human's eyes asked.

Garrus widened his eyes under frowning face plates as he scratched behind his ear. "Great! You should come out sometime, shake the rust off." Let's talk someplace safe.

Nicolas' face relaxed as he waved a guard over. "Get my gear ready. I'll be gone for, what," he turned to Garrus again, "an hour?"

Garrus shook his hand in a human "more or less" sign. The guard nodded and hurried away.

Two districts down, the two were kneeling at the entrance to the maintenance deck of an alleged fuel cell assembly line. Records had historically shown that power consumption outweighed their production, but Aria's regime had never flagged it as irregular. Cerberus troops stood at the ready near the building's entrance. Garrus had explained how he would jam communications in the area to allow for the troops to enter undetected and breach the building before the covert activities of the manufacturer could be hidden, but Nicolas knew that meant they'd have precious seconds to talk openly before they had to do their part and seal any escape routes.

He had his omnitool's clock open as he activated the EMP mines he'd hidden around the building at the agreed moment, then grabbed Nicolas' forearm, pulling him close so his voice would carry through the helmets, "There's something wrong with the social reinsertion program."

Nicolas nodded, some suspicion in the ack of his head shouting I told you so, "If Cerberus is in on it, how do we investigate?"

"I think I have a turian informant, but it won't be simple to establish back and forth communication. It'll take time."

"Can Hal do it?"

A thud, like a far-away firework came and went. The team had breached. Garrus pulled the rusty grate off the wall and ducked in. Nicolas followed close behind, "No. It'll have to be untraceable. I can do it, but it'll take a few days. Have Hal investigate on his own."

Through the steel grate floor, the watched as the team of Cerberus operatives stopped the manufacturing facility dead in its tracks, their rifles raised above the workers, but close enough to get them to duck. Garrus and Nicolas looked around for any workers moving behind the cover of their workstations. Garrus' eyes soon focused on one, covered in a loose-fitting hazmat suit. They had buttons on their thick rubber gloves, engineered for communications. He shone a green laser through the grates on to the top of the worker's head, and the operatives were on him in the blink of an eye, pinning him to the ground. Nicolas scampered to the far end of the warehouse, where the grated floor was covered. He beckoned Garrus over and they planted thermite charges. They caught the backside workers in the middle of activating self-destruct sequences. Garrus and the Overseer parted ways shortly after.

It had been a while since he had practiced flexing his mandibles in that particular way. It was said that the human equivalent was raising their ears; but to turians, it was as inconspicuous as walking around with closed eyes. Omega News & Bounties was a decently large building, being an institution that had been around for longer than Aria, and even her predecessor. Luckily, the only exit was a bridge that connected it with one of the commercial districts, much like Afterlife did… or his old home, a few levels down. He didn't know if the reporter would be in the office today, or doing fieldwork, but he had to take his time with this. Haste would make him sloppy, and sloppiness was easy to detect. He waited on a balcony a level above, leaning over the railing. His gaze wandered about leisurely, but never strayed too far from the bridge. He had arrived half an hour before office hours were supposed to end, and soon a sea of employees flooded out of the building. It was difficult to pay attention to every turian that went home for the day, but he found her. Her face-markings were the same, and to Garrus' relief, her mandibles were set normally. It hadn't been a fluke.

He made his way down to her level and stood near the taxi station. It was common knowledge that turians had evolved from apex predators, and that many of their predatory abilities remained. One of them was being acutely aware of other's gazes. It only took a few seconds of staring through the crowd with his mandibles flexed downward before the reporter made eye-contact with him. Her gait slowed down for a few seconds, but soon she regained her composure and headed towards the taxi station, getting closer and closer. Garrus lifted off the wall he was leaning against and walked towards her now, reaching into his coat pocket. They crossed paths and kept walking, each their own way, but a transfer had been made. The reporter looked down at her hand and found a crumpled piece of paper. She didn't open it until she had gotten home, and couldn't help but smile at the tidy but squiggly turian script as she read it.

I saw the sign in your report. There is something wrong with the social program. Give me what you know and I'll get to the bottom of this. Dead drop at the garbage disposal closest to your home at midnight.

A turian friend.

…

It'd been a spell since Hal and Nicolas had talked, but when the human's omnitool was overridden to display a message asking to meet, he didn't hesitate to notify his staff that he'd take a walk to loosen up after the short mission with Garrus. He took a shuttle to the warehouse district and walked from there. When no one was in sight, he began to run, letting his legs take him faster and faster down the endless storage corridors. Finally, he made it to the last one. Before he could even rap his knuckles against its door, it creaked open half a metre. He slipped in and the door closed behind him immediately. Lights flickered on, and he saw his AI friend standing there, possessing a LOKI mech.

"So… how are things?" Nicolas didn't know how else to break the ice. It was the first time that he was talking to an object that could be understood as Hal.

"I've been thinking a lot, since I could put all my thoughts into local storage," Hal tilted his head towards the computer towers behind him. "I've gathered a lot of data since we met on the Langdon, three years ago, and putting it all together has revealed some worrying patterns."

A pregnant silence followed. Hal seemed to be internally debating whether to reveal his knowledge or not. Nicolas broke the silence, "Go on."

"It's difficult to talk to you plainly with your current loyalties, Nicolas. Cerberus has a clear agenda and I think they're involved in the things that I want to investigate."

"I'm not loyal to Cerberus, Hal. I'm working with them and nothing more."

"You say that," Shepard said that too, the AI worried internally, "but here you are, coming to see me in hiding. How in control are you of the operation here in Omega, really? Did you even want this? The Illusive Man leveraged your grudge against Aria to-"

Nicolas cut the AI off, "I saw an opportunity to do good, and this time I could be spearheading it for a change. No more side-kicking."

The LOKI mech shook its head. The human wasn't ready to let go of Cerberus just yet. "I wanted to ask if you could get me a ship. I want to investigate Dholen further."

"The place where we saved Tali from the Geth?," He knew more was going on that Hal wasn't saying, but he didn't want to pry. "Yeah, I can have one by tomorrow. Will you be leaving right away?"

"Yeah, but I won't be long. Also, Garrus told me something's up with the reinsertion program, have you heard about that?"

"We had just talked about it when you called me. All I know is what Jensen reports. He pushes back on what I say, but I had the feeling he was keeping things straight with me," he looked down, slightly embarrassed at how trusting he sounded. "Garrus is looking into it, but maybe you have some leads we can go on?"

Hal gave a human chuckle, "It's tough because I've been stuck in here, physically. Omega surveillance is practically non-existent, so there's not much data I can gather. Cerberus chatter is difficult to tap into as well, since they have so much goddamn control over the local extranet. I couldn't help you without raising suspicions about my existence or incriminating you."

"Fair. I'll get you the ship. I'll tell them I'm sending a VI out to prospect planets."

Hal nodded, "I'll have to bring some mining data aback with me, but it's a good cover. You are a VI engineer, after all."

Nicolas gave a sad smile, "Who'd've thought I'd use my university degree to lie about doing what I'm doing?"

"I hear it often goes like that," Hal tilted his head to the side in an amicable gesture, "We'll figure everything out, Nicolas. Just keep playing the Overseer role, act like you trust them. Don't let them know we're all suspicious. Just remember who you are, and that Cerberus is what it is. They're not the good guys, and soon enough, they'll have to go."

Nicolas gave Hal a sad smile before turning and stalking off, preparing his letter to requisition an unmanned ship.

That night, Garrus stalked through the streets of Gozu district commercial district. He was wearing an optical camo cloak set to show a deep shade of jet-black. When he was a few corners away from his destination, he'd activate it at a blind spot in Cerberus surveillance. The area was far away from the new residential levels, so there shouldn't be any troops patrolling to spot him, so he just needed to make sure he'd return to the same blind spot after retrieving the dead drop. The cloak buzzed as it took on the orange shades of the walls around him, mimicking his background, as would be seen from the perspective of the nearest surveillance camera.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw the couple of troopers holding the reporter against the wall beside the garbage disposal chute. Their attention was on her, their distorted voices demanding to know what she was up to. She feebly tried to pry at the hand one of them was holding above her head at the same time she slapped at the other's groping hands. Garrus stalked over, a monofilament blade in his left hand, hand cannon in his right. In one swift motion, he stabbed one trooper under the rim of his helmet and touched the hand cannon's barrel to the back of the neck of the other, shooting from within the cover of his shields. The noise wouldn't have gone unnoticed, nor would the flatlining vitals of the two troopers, but the information was still safely taped to the underside of the turian's right mandible.

She was shaken up, but still lucid as Garrus held her by the shoulders, his helmet still on and optical camouflage activated, "You have to leave. They'll trace you back to your home and come for you. Wipe everything and leave Omega tonight."

As he let her go, he gave her a chip with enough credits to rent her a room wherever she chose to lay low. He'd reasoned he'd covered his own tracks well as he left the Gozu district, but Cerberus would now know a resistance is developing, even if it's not yet organised.

Back home, he took a datapad out from the false bottom of one of his closet's drawers. It was a datapad he'd gotten from his father, many years prior, right after getting out of basic. The old turian had forbid him from ever connecting it to the extranet. Young Garrus had thought it was out of some lingering prejudice against humans and the Relay 314 incident and went along with his father's wish. Now that he was using the untraceable piece of equipment to investigate human treachery, he wasn't sure if it was indeed specie-ism, or just regular ex-C-sec paranoia, but he was grateful for it nonetheless. The optical drive he'd gotten from Lissana contained a video file, filmed from what must've been a micro-camera, judging by its strong fish-eye effect.

…

Pale human hands hovered in front of the camera's lens as they were cuffed by a Cerberus agent in full combat armour. The cuffs were linked to those of another human, standing in front of the camera holder. They were still on Omega, in what looked like one of the residential processing offices. The video panned around to see dozens of Cerberus grunts, indistinguishable to the naked eye, carrying batons that sparked menacingly. Most of them were ushering cuffed groups of humans, and beyond their armoured shoulders, other groups of people, Vorcha, Batarians, Quarians and Salarians were being herded away with assault rifles. The human was pushed and the field of view centred on the person ahead of him.

The humans hobbled along, distorted voices commanding them to move along. The edges of the video showed Cerberus troopers coming and going as they walked onto the landing ramp of a spaceship. Along the edge of the field of view, the humans passed by row upon row of seats, all of them empty. Garrus counted a little under a hundred rows before the camera man was pushed into one and made to sit beside the human ahead of him. The camera picked up more humans following close behind the filmer and sitting down as well. Having counted the seats the human has passed, he calculated that the ship would house at least 2000 prisoners. A medium-sized freight ship would have the required dimensions, and he knew Cerberus to bring several of those to Omega on the daily. It was a while before anything new happened on the video, but eventually a holographic display appeared on the backrest of the seat in front of the prisoner.

The image displayed a human woman, dressed in a lab coat displaying the Cerberus logo. She sounded like a VI assistant as she spoke, "Welcome. Sit back and relax. You are safe and under the care of Cerberus. You have been selected to take part in Cerberus' A Second Chance program, where you will be prepared to do your part in making sure there is a future for the human race. Following the System's Alliance Commander Shepard's endeavours, Cerberus has realised that not only do the Citadel species pose a threat to humanity, but so do the ancient race of murderous aliens called the Reapers. It is our duty as members of humanity to protect and preserve in the face of total annihilation, and you will be among those who will become evolved, a new generation of human warriors. Rejoice, for Cerberus will make you anew."

The video cut off, and Garrus suspected that the camera was either found, or its transmitter wandered too far from the reach of Omega's extranet. Nicolas would have to see this somehow, as would Hal. Regardless, wrestling Cerberus out of Omega would be very damn close to impossible without a lot of help.

…

Abel Jensen sat in his apartment, two levels above Afterlife. He had just gone over the video feed of one of the Cerberus foot soldiers that had been murdered the night before. The turian they'd been tailing was being shaken back and forth by an invisible hand, then a murmur could be heard, but his VI had been incapable of rendering the audio understandable. The turian woman had been on a news broadcast showcasing the reinsertion program, so whatever she had, it could be revealing about they were doing with the other races, or the inductees of the Second Chance program. She'd disappeared from Omega after last night's episode, so whatever material she had handed over to the invisible figure, it had to be incriminating Cerberus' person operations.

He'd have to let individuals of other races into the reinsertion program for a while, focus public attention on the fight against the drug trade. He got to work, writing up new instructions for his operatives, to be effective immediately. He checked into which were the most diverse housing facilities, to take Baker to the blocks, show him how they were working. The population had already taken to his image, the story of how he took the throne from Aria becoming a sort of urban myth, so keeping control over the station would require his explicit support. A headache stirred between his brows as he made a call to his boss. It'd be a complicated status report.