MASS EFFECT: INTERCEPTOR 2

*Episode Fifteen*

Lina hadn't moved from her desk since the call with Pallin several hours ago. Her body felt numb and unresponsive. It wouldn't move, and seemed to merely wish to stay there, one with the deep darkness that surrounded it. The quarian's hands lay in front of her on the desk, her fingers twisting around one another in anxious knots as her eyes stared forward, through the blank frame of her terminal screen.

First she'd lied to Pallin, then when the request came from Arlen to keep C-Sec from intercepting Zwei, she hadn't questioned it. It all seemed irrelevant. She'd thrown her trust completely behind the young turian, invested her all in his protection to the exclusion of all else, even reason itself. What was one more lie at this point?

It was easy to get lost in the dark. It was her best friend as a child, when her mother locked her in the Moreh's labs and she had to pry open an air vent to get out. She did the same thing back then in those dusty ventilation ducts; sit in the darkness, safe and secure. If she stayed there long enough, she was able to pretend there was no punishment awaiting her, that life had taken a different course and no one was standing by to haul her back to her miserable existence.

She barely noticed the office light come on, nor the dark shape of Lorica's C-Sec fatigues in the doorway.

'Okay,' the asari began, immediately turning to lock the door before striding toward Lina's desk. 'What's going on? It's one thing to keep the truth from Pallin - hell, I can even forgive you for not telling me the plan with Arlen and Jaeger - but it's another to force me to lie to my own people!'

'I didn't have a choice,' Lina mumbled despondently. Her head and eyes remained locked forward.

Lorica crossed to the front of the desk and leaned over it insistently. 'Don't give me that crap! I lied to my team, to Kim, and they all know it. We didn't hire them because they're stupid. I chose to cover for you and I deserve an explanation!'

Lina felt tears threaten again, just as they had after the call with Pallin. She hadn't shed any for many, many years. Not when her mother forbade her from playing with the other children on her birthship, not when she was sold into slavery on Noveria, not when she almost starved to death in the bowels of the Citadel. Perhaps that was the difference - here, now, was the first time she felt like she had something to lose.

She sighed, a long droning buzz through her helmet amps. 'I'm sorry. I just couldn't do it. Tell Pallin, I mean. Arlen needs our help, he doesn't deserve to be locked up the moment he gets back. He's risking everything…giving everything for this mission.'

Lorica's expression remained hard and uncompromising. 'And what about that order to keep Patrol out of the loop?'

'Arlen requested it. It was a private communication, sent to me directly through Petra. He said he needed more time.'

'To do what?'

'I…don't know.'

Lorica narrowed her eyes. 'You don't know?'

'He didn't say and I didn't ask.' Lina finally moved, wringing her hands and raising her voice in desperation. 'He's undercover, he's in the field, I doubt he has the time to bash out a whole briefing dossier! He's the one out there on his own, so I naturally assumed he had his reasons!'

Lorica gaped at her in disbelief. 'If you can't even hazard a guess as to what those reasons might be then damn it, maybe it's not the best course of action! Considering what Arlen's been through, did you stop to think he might not be in the best frame of mind? That he might not be entirely capable of making the best choices? Hell, for all we know, Jaeger was tipped off by Ferrata ages ago and he made Arlen from the start. He could've forced Arlen to send that message!'

Lina knew her friend was right. The truth was a gaping hole in her chest, aching and hollow. She rubbed the faceplate of her helmet, the gesture useless but instinctive nonetheless.

'I trust him,' she said, finally, bringing down her hands to the desk once more to entwine her fingers. 'I have to. If I don't, then-'

Lorica frowned softly at the pause. It was an unsettling thing to see in the strong young quarian, and her features softened as despite it all, sympathy for Lina broke through her frustration. She circled around the desk, taking a knee beside the commander.

'Then what?' she quietly asked.

'You…you didn't see,' Lina began haltingly. 'Keelah, he was such a mess. He was injured, scratched up and bruised. And his apartment wasn't much better. It looked barely lived in, but what little had seen use in there was discarded or untidy. It just looked like he'd given up on everything except…'

Again, she trailed off but this was more deliberate. Lorica would not have understood Arlen's obsession with the League of One, nor their involvement in the Forgotten Legion crisis. It was enough that she'd painted him in a bad enough light, she wouldn't make him look like a paranoid delusional as well - especially not when he was right.

To her gratitude, Lorica didn't pry further, instead nodding her understanding. 'Okay, I get it. He was in a bad way from the start. So why did we let him head out on this crazy op?'

'I tried to stop him! You think I wanted him out in the field in his condition?' Lina hung her head. 'None of us wanted this, no one except him. The young fool mutilated himself to sell his cover, those are the lengths he was willing to go to to find the T-Seven. How could any of us deny something that strong? With all that's at stake, how could we give any less?'

'You could've had him sent away, told his commanding off-' This time it was Lorica's turn to halt in her tracks as the realisation hit her. She shook her head. 'But Ferrata was involved in this whole thing, an agent for a third party who are either working with or looking to protect Crimson Fist. Goddess, this doesn't get any better the more you try to rationalise it.'

Lina sighed again. 'We never had a choice from the start. Zwei Jaeger stole Crimson Fist's bomb and Arlen was the agent best placed to get it back. At least we can make the reasonable assumption that Ferrata was working for those responsible for supplying the T-Seven to the batarians in the first place. I just can't believe this is all coincidence, though.'

'You mean how Arlen and Jaeger fit into all this?'

'Yeah. Ferrata mentioned Arlen's "blood", that the turian military suspect him of something. Keelah, this makes no sense.'

Lorica rose to her feet and offered her hand. 'Come on, Commander. We're not gonna make any sense of it while you're cooped up in here. We need you out there, where you can make a difference.'

Lina composed herself, clearing her throat and sniffing deeply. It was another moment in an endless catalogue throughout her time on the Citadel where she envied the small things other species took for granted, in this instance the ability to blow her nose. She felt like a mess and could only be thankful for the helmet that hid her features while she was in such a state. When she was done, she took Lorica's outstretched hand and allowed the asari to pull her to her feet.

Lina dipped her head. 'Look, I…I know what I did was wrong but…'

'I know,' Lorica replied. She didn't smile, nor was her tone reassuring but it no longer had the venom of moments before. She shrugged. 'I don't think any of us has any control over what's going to happen now. All I ask is please, please don't make me choose between you and everything else - Kim, the team, the mission. We've been through too much and I know that when it comes down to it, if you're gonna go down with the ship I'll probably be on that bridge right beside you whether I like it or not.'

There was a pain in her eyes that made Lina want to weep. The quarian looked down briefly, the turmoil of her emotions erupting once again.

Lorica chuckled bitterly, her eyes darting up to the heavens. 'Goddess, we make a pair, don't we?'

'Yeah,' Lina concurred before placing a hand on Lorica's shoulder. 'We do. A suit rat and a glorified stripper in the highest ranks of C-Sec, trying to stand against everything the galaxy throws at them. Whatever happens, I… Thank you, Lorica. I couldn't have asked for a better friend in all the galaxy to go through this with.'

'Right back at ya,' Lorica said warmly. She gripped Lina's hand, giving it a tender squeeze before guiding it back to her side. 'Just remember what I said, all right? I don't want to lose everything, not after getting my life back on track with everything that happened a year ago.'

Lina knew Lorica was including their friendship in that statement. She didn't want to put Lorica through the same thing Arlen had been through, losing all that she cherished, and with every action Lina seemed to take that reality was drawing closer. Chains tore at her conscience as she realised any promise she gave would be meaningless while Arlen was still out there.

He relied on her, and no matter who she was hurting, or how much she longed to do otherwise, she knew she couldn't deter herself from acting with him in mind first and foremost.

After a time, Lina motioned to the door, hoping Lorica hadn't noticed her lack of response. Hopefully her friend could understand that an answer was worthless if it was a lie.

'Come on, before we're both missed.'

As the two women left the office, Lina cast a momentary glance back to her terminal. She tried not to consider what new unforgivable deception she would commit the next time she sat before it.

~~~ME-I2~~~

The warehouse Zwei and his gang used as a meeting place wasn't all filth-caked shelves and disused loading equipment. As he was led up a short slight of stairs to an administration office overlooking the main floor, Arlen was surprised to see a lounge of sorts, with couches, a well-stocked bar, poker table and more. The lighting was seedy and dim, which suited the crew's current state perfectly. It spoke of the quiet before a sudden, violent storm.

Zwei hadn't joined them in making their way there from the docks, instead splitting off to seek something very specific from the local black market. It had seemed urgent but no one questioned it, and Arlen knew better by now than to try and guess at his intentions.

Echoing his thoughts, Tuvio spoke as he drew a bottle of turian vodka from the bar. 'Zwei's getting his shopping done early. Thought he looked a little restless towards the end of the trip.'

Naraya clicked her fingers and pointed to the bar as she too settled down at the counter, and Tuvio set down a disposable glass cylinder of luminous turquoise spirit in front of her.

'You know how he is,' she remarked as she twisted off the cap. 'I knew it as soon as I saw that look in his eye, the second we set foot ashore he'd be off to the black market. Once he gets that itch, there's no stopping him.'

Arlen couldn't hold back his curiosity. He made his way over to take a seat next to Naraya, the tension and adrenaline of the past day slowly bleeding out, much as he strained to keep his senses alive and sharp. The truth was dawning on him that no matter how hard he tried to resist, his body craved an opportunity such as this to rest and drink, making a mockery of his own will. He could only submit.

'What "itch" is that?' he asked casually, Riko Pavek's rough drawl now coming more naturally than ever before.

Naraya's reply was cool, though it had lost its note of blatant suspicion since they were last on Omega.

'You'll notice it soon enough.' She smiled affectionately. 'He gets antsy, can't settle down. It happens when he notices something's wrong.'

Tuvio looked at Arlen and tilted his head to the bar. Arlen waved a hand and picked up the vodka bottle, and Tuvio placed an empty glass in front of him. Arlen filled it, only marginally aware he'd never tried turian vodka before in his life.

'Do you know what was wrong this time?' he queried while swirling the clear spirit in his glass, looking into it distantly.

Naraya's smile intensified and she took a deep gulp of her drink, smacking her lips. 'Oh yeah, but I won't tell ya. You'll see for yourself when he gets back. I don't think it'll take long.'

Arlen was used to having to wait for the blanks to be filled in around these people, and thought nothing more of the matter. He turned back briefly to see Tuvia and Madsen stretching back on the couch, the latter bringing up a vid on his omni-tool.

The mood grew light with astonishing speed. Again, Arlen was reminded of military professionals unwinding after an operation in the field. It was hardly R and R, but it was clear how accustomed the crew was to the cycle of combat and downtime by the ease with which they transitioned between the two.

For a moment, Arlen was convinced he'd made the right decision in warding off a C-Sec raid on their ship. He wasn't sure who would've come out on top after seeing how well this gang fought.

He sank his vodka in quick gulps. The earthy flavour caught him by surprise and he suppressed a cough. He quickly decided he didn't like the stuff but all that mattered was the effect it would have on his senses, not to mention the constant, nagging pains coursing through him. He refilled the glass and slid from his seat before making his way over to join Tuvia and Madsen on the couch.

He sat there for some time before from the corner of his vision, he saw the turian woman turn her head in his direction.

'Rough ride so far, huh?' she said wryly.

Arlen looked at her in turn, and for the first time since meeting the gang he observed Tuvia properly. She was attractive, with green eyes to match his own and slender mandibles that seemed a touch longer than most. The rich blue paint framing the lines of her face had been freshly reapplied, giving her a clean appearance next to her rough-looking brother.

'You could say that,' he replied. 'Is it always like this? One firefight after another? Or do you guys actually get some work done occasionally?'

Tuvia laughed quietly and nodded. 'It's been a little more exciting than usual since you showed up, that's for sure, but only a little. After all, this is about the most dangerous line of work in the most dangerous place in the galaxy. Unless you work for one of the major merc groups, or Aria, you're not considered much of anything on Omega. People don't respect you and they'll try to cheat you, maybe even kill you, but that's the price of staying small and independent. I know Zwei wouldn't have it any other way.'

Compared to the rest of the crew, Tuvia's voice was calm and soft. It made Arlen uncomfortable just as it soothed him. She was entirely too normal for the company she kept.

'What about you?' he asked idly, staring once more into his vodka to hide his genuine interest.

Tuvia gazed detachedly out of the window opposite them, though it was so filthy the warehouse beyond was barely even visible. 'There was a time when I'd have said this life was too dangerous, or I was afraid, or I'd have left my idiot brother to get himself killed. But that was a long time ago. Now, I'm not afraid of anything.'

Her deep green eyes locked with his. 'What Tuvio and I left behind was a life of thankless servitude among people we hated, and who hated us even more. Our lives were spent in fear and misery, where nothing we had was truly ours. Now, with Zwei, we're the ones in control. We make them fear us.'

More ambiguous nonsense, Arlen thought to himself.

'Seems like everyone here has some kind of dirty little past,' he muttered, unable to stop himself from voicing his bitterness. He looked at Madsen. 'And what about you? Got a melodramatic story of your own?'

'Hell yeah,' Madsen replied without lifting his eyes from his omni-tool. 'You don't fall in with this crowd for no reason. It takes strong motivation to jet around the galaxy, murdering and stealing. Me? I lost my parents in an industrial accident on Earth. Some big corporation sponsored my education as part of some bleeding heart outreach program. They sent me to Grissom Academy and I broke out when I realised I'd be breaking open doors for the Alliance all my life. Came to Omega, Zwei took me in, that's about it.'

Arlen blinked. 'That's…quite a story. Leaves a few questions.'

Chuckling, Madsen gave Arlen a brief look before returning to his vid. 'None I don't ask myself every day, but you know what? I figured out a long time ago that if life was about questions, we'd spend all of our time answering them. I ain't interested in that. Life is about feeling like it's gonna end tomorrow. Do that, and today suddenly becomes the best day of your life.'

Downing the last of his vodka, Arlen twisted the glass between his fingers. 'So, you're all just a bunch of rejects and thrill-seekers, is that it?'

'More or less,' Tuvia answered.

'And the military training?'

She shrugged. 'When you have three turians in the crew, you learn how to fight the right way. It's why Zwei picked us, or rather, why he keeps us. I think he's got a bit of a thing for our people.'

Arlen frowned. 'Three? But I-'

'Not you,' Tuvia said sternly. 'A man named Serica Ronn, our second in command and one of the deadliest triggermen on Omega.'

Arlen had to fight the natural outward signs of shock at hearing Ronn's name. It was nothing he didn't already know, of course, but those events on the Citadel before going back to JSTF were like another life, another universe. What truly surprised him wasn't the mention of Zwei's second but the realisation that he was already forgetting that other existence, even though it'd only been a few days.

Tuvia finished the last of her drink. 'He's languishing in a C-Sec prison cell right now but if I know him, he's already figured out a way to escape.'

Arlen's eyes slowly turned to her, sparkling with interest. 'Is that so?'

'Mm-hmm. He's like the boss, always three steps ahead and even when he's not, he's got the raw killing talent to get back in front.'

Not from where I was standing, Arlen ached to say. He settled for getting to his feet and motioning to Tuvia's glass.

'Can I get you something?'

'Brandy. Neat.'

Arlen took only a few steps before the door opened behind him, and he turned around to see Zwei enter with an air of triumph. He had changed into a new white suit, for whatever that was worth with how sloppily he wore it.

Naraya hopped down from her bar stool. 'Find what you were after?'

In response, Zwei produced not only the Locust he'd stolen from Hock but an exact duplicate. A gun in each hand, he turned them over in his grip, admiring them with that familiar sick grin on his lips.

'Not yet,' he replied before looking at the crew. 'But these'll help. Twenty-four hours, people. Get your business squared away now because in exactly one day, we're off to wreak some havoc.'

He swaggered to the bar as the others gathered to inspect his new acquisition. Arlen hovered at the periphery, already thinking ahead to getting himself rested and re-equipped. When the opportunity came to bring Zwei down, he would be ready.

~~~ME-I2~~~

Ambassador Novari suppressed the need to groan as once again, one of her guests accepted Eris' offer of yet another cup of tea. Novari gave her assistant a sharp look but doubted the young woman would interpret it correctly. Eris finished her rounds and departed, and yet again Novari settled in for another round of pointless conversation.

Her associates were all matrons; four other asari representing a variety of colonial interests throughout the Republics. There was Roani Shavai, chief executive of a prefab manufacturer, as well as the moderately well-known Tavora Nasci, a rising star in the sphere of frontier governance. Beside them, locked in their own heated sub-debate were Thana Shilor and Naili T'Suna, minor but upcoming industrialists and entrepreneurs in the fields of colonial agriculture.

The asari chattered leisurely around the meeting table in Novari's office, their every word winding her patience ever closer to breaking point. It had been more than an hour since the conclusion of their meeting on the current state of the Silean Nebula negotiations, in which they'd supported a wholesale rejection of Ciro Tessarius' latest proposals, but much to Novari's annoyance Tavora had chosen to reveal her engagement to some human businessman or other. That only prompted an obligatory round of congratulations that had since stemmed into discussions on cross-species childrens' rights, logistical difficulties in serving dextro-amino migrant populations on asari colonies and, naturally, which matriarchs were going to be facing what scandals in the near future should these issues not be addressed.

Diplomatic duties were one thing but Novari had neither the time nor the patience for their prattling. That said, neither could she dismiss them without causing offence. So she sat in silence, her gaze vacant as she mulled over more important matters. There was another meeting to be attended soon, one that interested her far more on a personal level, and would no doubt be more vital to the immediate concerns of the asari.

When the last of Roani's tea had finally been drained, Novari smiled tightly and rose to her feet, drawing a look of surprise from all of her guests.

'Thank you all for coming,' she said graciously, 'but something urgent has just arisen, a sensitive matter. I will notify each of your offices if there are any pressing developments, otherwise I will see you all in a few weeks.'

The other asari murmured their thanks in turn, each bowing slightly as they rose from the table. Protocol was followed in agonising detail, and Novari once more had to bite down on the urge to tell them to hurry the hell up.

Eris had taken position next to the door to see them out, and she dipped her head dutifully to each guest as they left. As the final guest departed, her head snapped nervously to Novari at the sound of the ambassador's voice.

'Get me Matriarch Lidanya. Now,' Novari ordered curtly. 'Lock the door. I am not to be disturbed under any circumstances.'

Eris nodded and took her leave. Only when the door's central hologram turned red did Novari cross the room to settle in front of the large standing comm unit placed against the far wall. There were three projectors, one for each member of the Citadel Council, but only the central emitter flared to life.

Matriarch Lidanya was as stern and authoritative as ever, cutting a striking figure in her Commando leathers. A part of Novari was envious that a matriarch could still appear so young and vital even in her advancing years.

'Hello, Ambassador,' Lidaya greeted formally, her hands placed neatly behind her back. 'It is a pleasure to see you again. I trust the Silean negotiations are proceeding favourably?'

Novari's mouth quirked in irritation. 'Not favourably enough for my liking. The turians are holding fast for those mineral rights. I smell the influence of their volus servants.'

'Isn't that always the case?'

'To various degrees. Certainly, they seem to hide the volus' input a lot more than they used to. Perhaps they're finally learning after more than a thousand years.'

Lidanya smirked. 'Please don't frighten me. If the turians could change, we would all be in trouble.'

It was a jest, but Novari didn't have to detect the tension in Lidanya's words to know of her own recent troubles with their fellow Council species. She decided to test the water.

'I understand you've been having some difficulties of your own in that regard. Something about a particularly…difficult turian admiral?'

Lidanya's lips drew tight across her lean face. She grunted a hollow, mirthless laugh. 'I suppose it's hardly a secret. This new admiral of theirs, Kaion, is a nightmare. Bellicose, uncouth and abrasive. Exactly the combination one doesn't want in a commanding officer of the Citadel Fleet.'

'How odd they would appoint him to begin with.'

'It's a departure from their usual choices, but with all the controversy the turians have been courting in recent times, I suppose it's only natural they'd want a strong voice in the area in which they're traditionally seen as the leaders.'

Novari frowned. 'You see them as leaders?'

Lidanya hefted her shoulders. 'When it comes to military matters, of course. They have the ships, the troops and the culture to make those things nigh-invincible. I don't like it but it's a fact. Much as I already detest Kaion, unless his superiors tire of his attitude, there's really nothing I can do besides lodge my opposition through official channels every chance I get.'

Novari folded her arms, her expression turning pensive. 'That is actually what I wished to speak with you about today.' She anticipated the confusion that came across Lidanya's features. 'Oh, I know you expected to hear reports on boring negotiations and the minutiae of boardroom antics from colonial executives, but after hearing your plight I believe we have a common purpose. I would like to offer my assistance.'

'You weren't doing that already?' Lidanya asked warily.

Novari smiled. 'I think we both know my summary of these discussions over who owns which Helium-Three platform on some backwater gas giant provides absolutely nothing of value to you, Matriarch. No, I offer something a little more…practical.'

Novari had only spoken to Matriarch Lidanya a handful of times in her career, and all of those interactions had been short, formal and as official as they could get. This was the first time she had reached out to the captain of the Destiny Ascension on a more intimate level and for the first time, she felt a spike of nervousness as Lidanya's gaze narrowed.

'Ambassador, I have little time as it is. Please, if you have something to say, then say it.'

The directness of the matriarch's response would have taken others aback but Novari welcomed it. The manner of a reply always spoke volumes about the person giving it, and Novari was glad to see even such an experienced person as Lidanya was capable of complacency when it came to the finer points of politics.

For her part, Novari made a show of acquiescing with a polite bow of her head. 'Of course. It's very simple. I have come into possession of certain facts and information; intelligence, I'm sure you would call it in your line of work. These facts are of a sensitive nature and concern the Turian Hierarchy. No doubt this knowledge, carefully alluded to when you next meet Admiral Kaion, will unsettle him. Perhaps they will even provide you an advantage, should the turians seek to rattle their sabres even more.'

Lidanya said nothing for a time, though the subtle motions of caution and surprise that played across her face were obvious to Novari even through the distortion of the hologram.

'How did you come across these secrets?' she asked.

Novari's eyelids fluttered, slowly and gracefully, as she gave a sly grin. 'I have my sources. I'll send you the information by courier, on an OSD. It's far too sensitive to transmit, even on diplomatic frequencies. If you find anything on that disc you can use, then do so. If not, then all you need to do is tell me to stop.'

'All right,' Lidanya said reluctantly, 'I'll take a look. But please be warned, Ambassador, I have little patience for the more…aggressive aspects of politics. I prefer to focus those instincts on the field of battle.'

'I understand.'

'No, I don't think you do.'

The statement made Novari's brow knot questioningly and she waited for Lidanya to continue.

'I have been captain of the Destiny Ascension, and a senior admiral of the Citadel Fleet, for a long time. The reason for that is because I know my place and I pour every ounce of my effort into forging a cohesive, effective fighting force. It is the Citadel Fleet that guards your station, as well as the governing figures of the free galaxy. I told Admiral Kaion that I will not let him tear apart a military union that has guarded peace in Council Space for over a millenia. I am now telling you the same thing.'

Novari gasped in feigned shock. 'I assure you, Matriarch, I was only-'

'I know,' Lidanya interrupted. 'I've been seeing this a lot since the bombing on Thessia. It's not often our people are attacked so directly. Naturally, the first reaction is to lash out at every perceived threat. To you, that threat lies with the turians and their claims within our space. It's understandable, but this is where my experience compels me to remind you that I am the military official here. Leave the fighting to me. Your job is to ensure I have as little need to fight as possible.'

Again, Novari exaggerated her body language, lowering her head in abject humility. 'Of course, Matriarch, I understand completely.'

'Good. I will…peruse the contents of your disc when it arrives. I'm sure we will speak again soon. Until then, is there anything else you would like to bring to my attention?'

'No, I won't take up any more of your precious time. Thank you.'

Lidanya's projection shivered, then disappeared. Novari couldn't hide her smile any longer as she strode to her desk and opened a secure comm channel.

'Huntress. There will be a package in the usual dead drop location. Ensure it reaches Matriarch Lidanya of the Destiny Ascension as quickly as possible.'

~~~ME-I2~~~

Before stopping by his apartment in Ezahn Heights, Arlen stopped by a nearby canteen for something to eat. It was the only word he could think of to describe the place, being neither fancy enough to be called a restaurant, and only just civilised enough to avoid being called a feeding trough. Like the rest of Gozu District, it was a place with grubby metallic walls bolted into the raw asteroid rock above, a two-storey open-faced building that looked out on something that approximated a plaza.

The district's main concourse ran through the plaza and the walkways teemed with Omega's citizens, who passed between thick support pillars and squat pits from which sprouted hardy and unattractive plants. It was the closest thing Arlen had seen to scenery in all his time on the station and he took note of the thickening crowds from his table on the canteen's second floor.

The noise was swelling; the steady thunder of footfalls mixing with the constant hum of conversion, perforated by the occasional clinking of cups and glasses. It made it difficult to think but Arlen also found a certain comfort in it as well. It was easy to get lost in a place like Omega - more so and in more ways than anywhere else he'd known in the galaxy - but he was grateful for somewhere he could feel marginally normal within that chaos and filth.

His omni-tool chirped and Petra's voice came through loud and clear. To bystanders it would look like a simple extranet call.

'I've compiled a list of the most reliable arms dealers in the area. Or, at least, the places least likely to rob you and leave you for dead.'

'Thanks. Are you okay? It's been a while since you've had to lie this low.'

'It could be worse.' She paused as a converted LOKI mech approached with a tray of refreshments.

'Your drink, Sir,' it announced in a factory-preset voice.

Arlen's mood was far too grim to find amusement in the crude tuxedo that had been painted onto its chassis. He waved the thing away the moment it placed a tall glass of cold water in front of him.

'I could've ended up like that,' Petra added.

Arlen smiled and took a deep draught of his water. It was ice cold and pure, unlike the running water that slid through the pipes of Omega. 'I'd ask if it brought back memories, being here. Then I remembered you were trapped in a computer lab in the darkest corner of Omega's worst district. Not much to recall, I'm guessing.'

'I barely think about those days. It was all darkness and confinement, pretty much a literal oubliette. I learned about those from a human history database on the Citadel. They were prison cells with only one way in or out, high above the prisoner's head, no chance of escape.'

'Sounds about right,' Arlen replied, his eyes scanning the shifting crowd below for nothing in particular. 'Seems like a lifetime ago since I pulled you out of that server. You've really come a long way, haven't you?'

'Thanks to you.'

The appreciation in her voice was clear and Arlen felt a rare sense of satisfaction. He knew at the time it had been an incalculable risk, to bring an AI - if indeed Petra could've been classified as such - into the wider galaxy. The geth's assault on the Citadel six months prior had only made concealing her all the more vital, but there was no regret. Petra had been more than a tool to him, effective though she was. She had pulled him through some of his darkest hours, kept him moving forward.

'You're a good friend,' he murmured, as much to himself as Petra.

'I try to be,' she responded. 'You need all the help you can get. For example, I've picked up something else you might be interested in. Might come in handy for your investigation.'

'What's that? Another good place to gear up before Zwei sends us into another suicide run?'

'No.' Her voice hardened, and Arlen's gaze snapped to the omni-tool curiously. 'I mean your other investigation.'

The tone of the discussion shifted and Arlen's reply was without the warmth of moments before. 'Go on.'

'We know that the best sources of intel on the League of One are salarian military operatives. Their Special Tasks Group were the ones sent to hunt the League down, long ago. I'm not sure how much they know about their old enemies' current operations, or even if they're aware the League are still around but I'd be surprised if that wasn't the case. Salarians aren't known for their ignorance. Hubris, perhaps, but not ignorance.'

'What are you getting at, Petra?'

'There's a former STG operative nearby. That clinic I told you about? It's run by a salarian doctor named Mordin Solus. He hasn't been here long but he's already earned a reputation as someone even the gangs and mercs don't mess with. Sounds like he hasn't forgotten his roots.'

Arlen snorted lightly. 'Salarians don't forget anything.'

He considered his own words. By their logic, the Special Tasks Group as a collective would know the threat posed by the League of One better than anyone, as Petra said. A member of their organisation, whether former or still serving, would not come across his path very often. The chance had to be taken.

He nodded. 'I was going to pay the clinic a visit anyway, might as well ask a few questions while I'm there. Thanks for the tip.'

'It's what I'm here for,' Petra said cheerily.

'It's not all you're here for,' he corrected. Sighing, he stretched up his arms and placed his hands on his head wearily. 'I've got some more errands to run today. I know Madsen wanted to hook up and pick up some armour, wanted my "expert opinion". I'll go to the clinic first thing in the morning, when my head's a little clearer. Honestly, I can't wait to get some painkillers for this damn headache. Feels like somebody's driven a spike through my jaw.'

Petra tutted chidingly, another idiosyncrasy Arlen didn't know she'd picked up until that moment. 'That's what you get when you go cutting pieces off yourself. You know, you'll sleep a lot better if you take your medication beforehand.'

'I'll sleep too well,' he reminded her. 'It's fine, I'll wrap up my preparation for the return trip to Bekenstein, then go pay this Mordin Solus a visit. Should have plenty of time.'

'You'd better. This info was not easy to find.'

'I know,' Arlen chuckled, 'and I appreciate it. Come on, let's get back to the apartment. You could do with stretching your legs while I check in with JSTF. They're gonna need to break the bank a little to afford some of this equipment I have my eye on.'

'You realise they won't let you keep it when all this is over, don't you?'

'A turian can dream, can't he?'

Arlen finished the rest of his water and wiped his lips before getting to his feet. There was work left to do and he couldn't afford to rest. Once more, he pushed aside his exhaustion, putting one foot in front of the other until the time came to stop again.

~~~ME-I2~~~

Prax kept many safehouses throughout the galaxy, all in heavily populated areas with quick and direct access to spaceport facilities. Some Spectres preferred to remain mobile on private ships but Prax never found that idea appealing. Ships were tracked and logged every time they docked, making it much easier to trace the operative's movements. They required crew, maintenance and even with escape pods on board, chances of survival were always slim if the ship was destroyed out in space.

When not in use, a safehouse needed only be locked up and shut down. The overheads for inactive domiciles were nil, and Prax knew from long experience that the Council quickly tired of agents who didn't justify their expense claims. Work was hardly in short supply for a Spectre, but their missions varied greatly in challenge and importance, and getting on the Council's bad side was a surefire way to end up cast aside and forgotten.

Prax's mandibles twitched at the thought, briefly catching the thin grey light of the Widow nebula that poured through the apartment window next to his bed. The arresting sight of the Ward skyline beyond went ignored as he pondered once again the suspicion that had fallen on turian Spectres since Saren went insane. There were more than enough conspiracy theories floating around, as tended to be the case when a Spectre died but Prax knew that whatever the truth of the matter, it would be a long time before the Council allowed another turian to rise so high.

Glancing down at his bare hands, Prax flexed his fingers, noting their pitted, rough skin. Age had already marred his chances of living up to Saren's erstwhile example, and now Saren himself had ensured Prax would never earn the prestige owed the Spectre Office's most illustrious operatives.

When the terminal on the small table beside the bed began to chime, Prax snatched at the button angrily, pouring his frustration into that small motion so that when he spoke, his voice would be free of it.

'I'm here, Admiral.'

The image of Kaion's head and shoulders was grainy with static owing to the heavy encryption on the signal, but the admiral's harsh features were rendered clearly enough to see the grin that lined his jaw.

'Good work in C-Sec, old friend. I'd ask if you were followed, but I wouldn't be hearing your voice if that was so, would I?'

Prax grunted in disdain. 'They were as you said, Sir. A bunch of amateurs in a bloated, unwieldy organisation. And this "Task Force" of theirs was supposed to be a step above.'

'They're still Citadel Security, no matter how much they care to pretend otherwise. They were no match for a Spectre. So tell me, what did you learn of their investigation while you were there?'

'They managed to obtain an OSD held by the man I was sent to kill. As of the time of my extraction, they hadn't yet decrypted the disc and they have no more leads on Crimson Fist until they do. They also seemed wrapped up in some undercover operation led by an agent named Arlen Kryik. He uh…'

Prax halted for a moment and an ironic laugh escaped his lips.

'He has the same name as a Spectre I once knew. A friend. Small galaxy.'

'Smaller than you think. The two are - were, related. Brothers, to be exact.'

Prax digested the revelation, his smile replaced by a look of mild puzzlement. 'I see. Interesting. I wonder if he knows what-'

'It's of no consequence,' Kaion interjected. The thin spines of his fringe seemed to bristle at Prax's distraction. 'Stick to your report. Did Avrix Ferrata talk?'

'Unknown, Sir. I wasn't present for his interrogation and the officers who questioned him didn't speak of it outside his cell.'

'I see. Well, I suppose they can't all be complete idiots. Regardless, you kept a lid on a potentially devastating situation for our people. Well done, Prax.' Kaion looked down, as if typing something. 'I'm sending over a new dossier, one JSTF has only recently prepared for their esteemed Spectre liaison. I just thought you'd appreciate reading it in advance.'

'Yes, Sir.' Prax leaned over to download the incoming file to his omni-tool but his fingers stopped, hovering over the haptic keyboard. 'Sir, if I may ask; why not just send me against Crimson Fist? I understand the need to keep the nature of the T-Seven's theft a secret, but surely the batarians are the greater threat? Not to mention this human criminal JSTF is tracking.'

'You let us worry about the bigger picture, my friend. As it happens, you will be getting to know that human thief soon enough. That's all I'll say for now, you'll find out what you need to know from the dossier. Again, thank you, on behalf of not only me but the Empire itself. Your service will not be forgotten.'

The signal ceased without warning, leaving Prax to consider what he'd learned. His green paint glistened in patches as he turned his head to stare out of the window.

'Kryik…' he mouthed. After a time, he shook his head, dismissing the unwelcome questions that were forming in his mind.

Instead, he brought up his omni-tool and began to read. The details of his next target were shown along with classified comm buoy frequencies, extraction scenarios, everything he would need to keep track of JSTF's undercover op and, when the time came, intervene.

The young turian who bore the name of an old friend threatened to drag Prax into hesitation but the feelings were quashed like any number of the enemies he'd dispatched over the years. Whatever the boy's relationship to Nihlus, he was now an obstacle.

The T-Seven bomb had to be retrieved. No matter the cost.