MASS EFFECT: INTERCEPTOR 2

*Episode Twenty*

Ciro's home was modest, at least for a Presidium apartment, without much in the way of decoration aside from a few ornaments and heirlooms. It lay just off a grand causeway, halfway up one of the great shelf structures that broke up the ring's sweeping curves. Parks and lakes lay below, glittering as the first morning commuters began to surge along the surrounding paths and boulevards.

The ambassador watched them from a balcony, a steaming cup of herbal tea in one hand. Ciro took a deep sniff of the minty bouquet, savouring it as he pondered exactly what he would do that day. Time off was a rarity for him, and even when it came he usually busied himself with mundane tasks that ended up more than resembling a day at the office, negating the point entirely.

He had been fully dressed for over two hours already, automatically slipping into a dark blue suit with burgundy and pale cream lining. His face paint had been applied even before that, just as the Presidium was just starting to lighten with its daily simulation of dawn. He sometimes wondered if he'd become irrevocably bonded to the Citadel and its central ring, so intertwined were they at this point. Both embedded in routines that could not be altered, could not be shifted, neither existing without the other.

Ciro grunted at the thought, a quiet, bitter sound. He would one day be dust but the Presidium would remain, the same as it always had been since the protheans trod its gleaming thoroughfares so long ago.

He frowned in surprise as his front door chimed. No guests were expected at that hour, and the look of perplexion remained on Ciro's face as he strolled to the door. He was in no great hurry, even pausing to check his reflection in the sheen of a simple white vase as he passed by. Satisfied he appeared presentable, he continued, mumbling as the door called him again.

'Hold on, hold on, I'm coming,' he muttered.

He passed a hand over the panel and his mandibles spread in shock at the sight of Eris, standing with her hands folded in front of her waist and a nervous smile on her lips. The young asari smiled at him.

'I was afraid you wouldn't be up,' she said guiltily. 'Am I too early? It's too early, isn't it?'

'I- No. No, don't be silly, it's only…'

Ciro looked back over his shoulder. He had an antique human clock nearby that his wife had bought at auction decades ago, but it was just out of his vision.

Eris checked her omni-tool. 'It's too early,' she confirmed with a wince. 'I'm sorry, I didn't realise the time. I went to the office early to take care of a few things, and I guess I thought I'd spent longer walking here than I actually did. Or I went to the office earlier than I thought. Maybe a little of both.'

She was rambling, and Ciro realised it was partly because he was keeping her standing outside like an unwelcome salesperson, or one of the hanar "Enkindlers' Witnesses" that had begun plaguing the Presidium in recent months. He stepped aside and gestured for her to come in.

As she entered, Ciro couldn't help but look her over. He'd thought the fact he was impeccably turned out so early in the morning was unusual, but Eris looked radiant in a white and lilac dress of the fashion that most asari wore on the Citadel, with rigid shoulder seams and a stiff collar that made her neck look long and elegant. Her pale blue skin shone like the lakes outside, and she'd even taken the time to apply small purple flecks of paint to her brows and the base of her head ridges.

'Have you eaten yet?' Ciro asked. 'I haven't found the time to get anything in, as you suggested. I was going to head out later, not that I'm entirely sure what I was going to buy. We didn't exactly discuss…'

His tongue fumbled behind his lips. He wanted to believe the unexpected speed of Eris' arrival had thrown the proverbial wrench into his plans for the day, but he was quickly realising that he had no real plan to begin with. In his deepest heart, he didn't think she was actually going to show up.

Eris' sweet smile broke through some of the awkwardness, easing his nerves. 'I had breakfast before I left, don't worry about it. As for later, we can have something delivered, or we can go out again. I really enjoyed that restaurant you took me to last time. That is…if you haven't gotten bored of me by then.'

'Hm,' Ciro grunted as he stepped a little closer to her. 'Let's see, what are my options here? Spending my time in the company of a lovely, pretty young asari lady or a volus investment broker who's trying to find a polite way to tell me he's lost my pension in some shady pyramid scheme. I think you're overestimating just how exciting my days off can get.'

Eris giggled warmly. 'So why make such a fuss over what I'm eating?'

He made a show of clearing his throat and adopted a mock formal tone. 'Well, it's always vital in intergalactic diplomacy to maintain an intimate knowledge of other parties' main concerns and - most importantly - their needs.'

'Is that my first lesson? Should I be taking notes?'

Her clear, sky-blue eyes shone with mischief and Ciro checked himself, glancing up and out of the window leading to the balcony. He wasn't looking at anything in particular, but once more there was a certain reluctance to indulge in this easy enjoyment that sprang up when Eris was around. He couldn't even be sure why he was so cautious after having resolved to appreciate their friendship, if nothing else.

He motioned across the room, where a suite of couches stood bathed in the light from the balcony. 'I suppose there's no sense in waiting. Take a seat and we'll get started. Whether or not to take notes, well, that's entirely up to you.'

Eris obliged and Ciro joined her, though he hesitated as she spoke with sudden, if mild urgency.

'Oh, before we begin, did you get that thing I sent you? I left it with your assistant.'

'No, I'm sorry, he had to take the afternoon off yesterday and we all have to keep our desks and offices secured when we're not around. It's all right, I'll see him tomorrow. It can wait until then, can't it?'

'I- Um…yes. Yes, of course. No rush.'

He didn't notice the way Eris' mouth firmed, a tiny expression of concern that was easily missed as he readied himself to impart any and all knowledge she could possibly need.

~~~ME-I2~~~

The morning Presidium crowds were starting to irk Lorica as countless bureaucrats and officials in expensive suits conspired to amble into her path, distracted by their omni-tools or conversations with colleagues. Some of the bridges spanning the embassy district's lakes were so narrow they could barely allow two abreast, and often Lorica had to usher Lang into single file as he struggled to keep pace behind her.

The young man hadn't slept, nor even changed out of his uniform yet, that much had been clear when they'd met up at one of the main elevators to the Wards. Time was short and Lorica was paranoid that his haggard appearance might raise suspicion in the asari embassy, but they had little choice. Every minute mattered and they would just have to chance it.

Lang trotted to her side after they cleared another bridge, and he tried to keep his voice down even as it threatened to burst out with each panting breath.

'So let me get this straight: Captain Ferrata tried to hide an OSD belonging to a batarian terrorist, and that OSD contained plans for the Destiny Ascension, something that could've only been stolen from high-level asari military servers, right?'

'Those plans are only what we've decoded so far,' Lorica reminded him. 'It's not much but it's significant - certainly enough to go on for now.'

'So why can't we go to the asari with this?'

Lorica was aware of the press of bodies around them and tried to steer towards the less-congested sides of the path. 'Because we don't know who leaked those plans. Chances are it was someone on the inside - and I'm not just talking about the asari. We've already had one security breach in JSTF, and Lina's not taking any chances. We could be dealing with a network of moles at this point, and until we're absolutely positive we're not being watched or whoever we're after can't go to ground and disappear, we're on our own.'

She paused to compose herself. She didn't know if it was tiredness, stress or the exertion of the brisk walk that was making her breathe so heavily, but she took a few moments to stare out across the Presidium. She'd always found the place dull, too quiet and filled with too many pompous members of the galaxy's elite, but now she tried to find some peace in its serene architecture.

'Somebody very well connected or very, very smart is trying to help Crimson Fist blow up the asari flagship,' she murmured. 'If Jaeger hadn't chosen that moment to rob the Silver Coast, we'd have Molach in a cell and the T-Seven would be safe.' Suddenly, she let out a mirthless chuckle and shook her head. 'Or whoever killed Ferrata would've stolen it from under our noses. We were never in control of this situation, not for a second.'

'That's not true,' Eddie replied, whispering harshly as he moved closer. 'We still have a chance. Arlen's still out there, waiting for his chance to get that bomb and we're here, on the trail of whoever's doing this. We still have a chance.'

Lorica grimaced. 'Arlen is-'

She stopped as it dawned on her Lang didn't yet know of Arlen's disappearance and possible death. Her mouth remained slightly ajar as she weighed the value of that admittance against everything else, and decided it wasn't worth distracting him.

'Arlen is…doing everything he can,' she finished. 'You're right. Come on, the embassy isn't far.'

It wasn't long before signs pointing to the asari embassy appeared, leading them to their destination. The curved walls fell aside to reveal a busy reception area, swarming with politicians of all species. For the asari, who were considered the race most inclined towards diplomacy, no less than five greeters and receptionists had been afforded. One stood behind a small table while the rest were seated, terminals flaring brightly on their desks as they processed requests from dozens of waiting visitors.

Lang's voice was so quiet that Lorica barely heard him. 'So what's this thing we're uploading exactly?'

'It's a worm, a virus made by one of our best salarian techs. It'll allow covert access to increasingly widespread areas of the asari military net. The more people connect to the embassy, the faster and farther it'll travel.'

As the oblivious cream of the galaxy's political crop laughed and fawned amongst themselves, her tone grew dark.

'We need to find where those plans came from. Their theft has either gone unnoticed or wasn't reported. If the latter, it was covered up. If the former, then someone must have had the security clearance and the access to download them. Both point to someone with huge sway in the asari military industrial complex.'

'Or someone else managed to break in?'

That was something Lorica didn't want to consider. 'Unlikely but not impossible. If it was an outside party, then we could be looking at one of the most ingenious and dangerous acts of espionage since the krogan rebellions.' She bit her lip gently. 'JSTF has already been compromised. If the same people managed to steal the Destiny Ascension schematics without alerting the asari…well, we might as well all give up now because we'd be in way over our heads.'

Her pessimism seemed to rub off on Lang. He looked down, his brow furrowed, and Lorica had to force strength into her voice to snap him out of it.

'Come on, it's showtime. You need to run through the plan one more time?'

Lang opened his omni-tool and shrugged. 'What's to run through? I just need to keep the ambassador talking, right?'

Lorica did the same and after a few seconds, both devices blinked yellow as their functions were linked.

'That's pretty much it. Just pretend you're taking a statement from some clerk whose shuttle got scratched. These people love the sound of their own voices, I actually think you'll be lucky to keep it down to ten minutes.'

'A scratched-up shuttle,' Lang muttered. 'Thanks, now I'm getting flashbacks to when I was on foot patrol up here.'

Despite her mood, Lorica smiled at him. 'Use it. I'll be right here, looking nonchalant.'

With a deep breath, Lang made his way over to introduce himself to the greeter, his C-Sec uniform - grubby and soiled though it was - affording him instant acknowledgement over the others.

Lorica watched as he was directed down a nearby corridor and then disappeared from view. All she could do now was wait for the audio feed that would be streamed from Lang's omni-tool; a monotone, bored-sounding witness interview that would hide his true purpose. That would be the cue for Lorica to act, and as the seconds began to drag out with crushing tension, she hoped for all their sakes that Ambassador Novari was in a talkative mood.

~~~ME-I2~~~

The sun was only just beginning to rise on Bekenstein, and as Arlen tramped off the access ramp onto the hard stone of the landing pad, he wondered if he would ever see daylight on that blasted planet. Unlike the last time, he did not disembark into a well-equipped and maintained dock facility but rather a simple paved circle in an otherwise barren plain, a mere scratch in the earth. All around stretched dry grasses and scattered rocks, while in the distance hills squatted, their edges burned red by the emerging day.

The ship behind him was a small chartered passenger vessel, too big to be a shuttle but nowhere near the size of a freighter, basic but a hell of a lot more comfortable than a cargo hold. The gang had boarded in great haste from one of Aria's T'Loak's private docks on Omega, and from what Arlen understood, she or one of her business contacts owned this landing strip planetside. He didn't know Bekenstein's geography but it was obvious this place was as far from civilised areas as it was possible to get. Only a single powered antenna stretched up into the dark blue sky, some kind of signal scrambler, he guessed. Wherever they were, it was purposely built outside the notice of local authorities.

There'd been no mention at all of a return trip. Arlen had considered this fact once on the journey and decided to not think of it again, but it was easier said than done. He looked down to his injured wrist, now securely ensconced in armour along with the rest of him. The suit he'd picked from the Omega markets was top of the line and it made him feel infinitely safer, with its elaborate suite of countermeasures, safeguards and anti-biotic hardening upgrades. It was gleaming black with panels of orange, hardly his first choice of colour but it hardly mattered. One way or another, it would do the job.

He blinked as Zwei approached and joined him in looking over the bare plains.

'Bloody hate the smell of this place,' he remarked. 'No personality, no quirks. Nothing like Omega.'

Such words were not those Arlen would have used to describe Omega's air, if it could even be called such. His nose slits widened as he took in what he could of the fresh, clean breeze while he still had the chance. Whether he found himself back on Omega at the end of the day, or the Citadel, or wherever his spirit would join should he die, he wouldn't have the chance to enjoy an unspoiled natural atmosphere for a long time.

'You really think this plan of yours is gonna work?' he asked.

Zwei sniffed. 'Khan didn't expect Hock to go after his money, Hock won't expect us to do the same. These pricks are all the same, even if Donnie's a little sharper than most. He reckons if anyone's gonna come after him, it'll be at his home. But I have it on very good authority that his business accounts are kept on file at the First Colonial bank in Milgrom, along with every other well-to-do racketeer and gun runner on this shithole of a planet.'

Arlen's eyes narrowed against the glare of the sun as it spilled over the horizon. 'Grond's dead. So's Madsen. Inamorda's still out there, possibly on our tail as we speak.'

'The twins are more than enough, and Naz is perfect for this kind of work. She's got a way with people.' Zwei's lips lifted into a snarl. 'I'm gonna make sure the last thing Hock sees is my foot crushing his throat. To do that, we need to take away the people protecting him. To do that, we make sure he can't pay 'em. Eclipse don't waste effort on folks who shirk on the bill.'

He smirked suddenly and clapped a hand on Arlen's shoulder.

'And we have you now, Ricky-boy. You've survived so far. Got us out of Purgatory, helped us fight out of Donnie's place, even went toe to toe with one of the meanest bounty hunters in the galaxy. A bloody fine job, so far.'

Arlen wondered if the real Riko Pavek would still be there were he in Arlen's shoes, or if he'd have cut and run after Purgatory. Surely no sane being would have remained in this gang's presence after the debacle in Hock's mansion. Perhaps Zwei had also considered this, and was privately suspicious of this turian newcomer who seemed to stick around, no matter the chaos and destruction thrust upon him.

Then again, Arlen reasoned, the others are still here. A collection of sociopaths and anarchists, criminals and good-for-nothings, all following this madman to some violent, glorious end.

The thought made Arlen very aware that Zwei still clutched the T-Seven case. It hung by his side, an ever-present sight over the past few days. Arlen's fingers twitched towards the pistol on his hip. A split second and Zwei would be dead, the case would be his and before the rest of the crew even knew what was happening, he'd be on the run.

But to where? he silently asked himself. There was nothing but scrub and brush for miles around. He would clearly be seen and tracked. Still, even if they chased him down and killed him, without Zwei the others would likely scatter or try to cut a deal with the Citadel authorities in exchange for the bomb. The twitching in Arlen's fingers grew into solid movement as they quested towards his weapon.

Tuvio's voice brought Arlen's hand back down to his side.

'All set, Boss,' the other turian announced. 'Aria came through, the truck's on the other side of the signal tower. Tuvia's bringing it around now.'

Zwei nodded, saying nothing. Whatever this meant, Tuvio understood. He left the pair alone again as a strong wind blew, tousling Zwei's pale shock of hair and fluttering the loose flaps of his unbuttoned suit jacket.

'Why do you do it?' Arlen asked before looking at the human. 'Really?'

The crescent smile flickered briefly across Zwei's lips. 'Not much else you can do when you're me, really.'

Arlen was dimly aware of how his next words would sound but he didn't care. They needed to be spoken.

'Everyone has a choice. You think you're the only kid to grow up in hard times?'

He couldn't mention his own childhood, how his own father had pushed him and Nihlus through tortuous physical and mental hardships when they were just young boys. Renius - the ruthless Iron General who led the butchery on Shanxi - had put his sons through hell. Only as an adult, after discovering the truth of Renius' role in the First Contact War, had Arlen considered that it was all to turn them into soldiers that could not fail him.

Something in his voice must have ignited some spark of recognition for Zwei, as he now grinned at Arlen without restraint. 'Speaking from experience there, eh, Ricky?'

He was met with only the whisper of the breeze, but didn't seem to mind.

'I grew up in a very dangerous place,' he said quietly. 'A place where if you didn't fight every second you were alive, you weren't gonna be alive for long. Even then, death really didn't give a damn how hard you fought - sometimes it'd come for you anyway. Couldn't leave, not even to go outside. The planet would kill you quicker than anything else.'

Arlen's brow plates pressed together curiously. 'What planet was this?'

'Don't know the name. No idea where it is. I got out when the whole place fell apart and scavengers came to loot the corpse. Killed them, left one alive to fly me to Omega. Then I killed him too.'

'I don't understand. Who were your parents? Who raised you?

Zwei lifted his head to the skies, his voice growing almost wondrous. 'I was raised on a faraway world,' he replied, '...by a three-headed dog.'

'Tch…' Arlen snorted. Such ambiguous nonsense was to be expected but still, there was an edge of assured knowledge to Zwei's words that convinced Arlen he wasn't being toyed with.

At last, Zwei turned to him and there was no lie in his gaze. 'Where I came from, just opening your eyes in the morning was the first step you took in preparing for the end. Now? I look out there, see another dawn, and I know my chances are a hell of a lot better than I had back then.'

A thought occurred to Arlen and he flexed his lips before asking, 'You said before, last time we were here, that the thing you were running away from is what you're looking for now.'

Zwei chuckled. 'Good memory, mate.'

'Is that what you're looking for? Death? Do you want to die?'

Pursing his lips, Zwei shook his head. 'Nice guess, but zero points for that one.'

'Then what is it?'

This time, Zwei stared directly at Arlen, and the Interceptor knew he was seeing something no one, perhaps not even someone as intimately involved as Naraya, had ever witnessed. There was something great and terrible in that silvery gaze, and it made Arlen want to shudder.

'I wasn't the only one being watched by that three-headed dog,' Zwei sneered. 'We were all there, a whole bunch of us. Caged like animals. Forced to fight each other so the guards would have something to watch. Stuck with needles and cut open while we were still awake. But the dog didn't care about us. It cared about her.'

Arlen couldn't help but press further. 'Who was she?'

Zwei's tone intensified, as did the look he fixed upon Arlen, as memories long locked away and seldom visited rushed out as one.

'We were all numbers. Those of us who even mattered just a little. I was Two. But she…she didn't have a number, not really. She was nothing. Is nothing. Her name is nothing.' Zwei bared his teeth and the whites of his eyes shone bright as they widened. 'But I know she's still out there, and she shouldn't be. She's supposed to be nothing and I ain't gonna die until I make her that way.'

Arlen asked again, his voice low and husky, 'Who was she, Zwei?'

'I was Two,' he answered, as if in a trance. 'I was Two. And she was Zero.'

Arlen wanted nothing more than to wring his hands with frustration. He was certain that Zwei was being utterly serious but there was nothing to be gained from these confused ramblings. To his relief, the heavy drone of a large goods shuttle broke through the moment, drawing the attention of both men as the truck lowered slowly to the ground a few metres away.

Zwei had already locked away whatever emotion he'd been feeling, sealing it behind his usual expression of restrained madness.

'Enough of this bullshit,' he said, pacing towards the truck. 'The First Colonial will be opening soon. Let's go make a withdrawal.'

~~~ME-I2~~~

Novari turned the small pin over in her fingers, letting the light of her office run across it in gleaming bands. It was shaped like the symbol of the Turian Empire, nothing more and nothing less, but this wasn't a souvenir one could pick up easily in the cheapest Wards tourist shops. This was solid gold, precious and heavy for its size.

'I've never seen your boss wear this once in all his years on the Citadel,' she stated flatly.

Antus quirked his mandibles and nodded once. 'I thought as much. So what does it mean?'

Novari set the pin down in front of her, then frowned intensely and folded her hands together, her elbows propped on the desk. 'I don't know. There's always the chance Tessarius bought it recently and we just didn't notice, and he really did leave it behind. Or that fool girl really is getting herself more involved with him than she should be.'

'You should question her when she arrives,' Antus suggested.

Novari narrowed her eyes. 'And ask her what, exactly? Where she really got this trinket that you said you'd give to Tessarius, but is now in my possession for some reason? Goddess, you're thick sometimes.'

'Well I don't hear you coming up with anything,' Antus snapped back.

Exhaling a trembling breath, Novari reached up and massaged the blue skin of her temples. Where there was reason enough to explain Eris' actions, there was also doubt. Where there was doubt, there was reason. It wasn't enough to accuse her assistant while there existed a logical explanation - not when the very act of accusation would have exposed too much itself.

'Even if I wanted to,' she said wearily, 'Eris isn't here today. She took the day off.'

Antus' dark brows lowered in suspicion. 'The old man isn't in today either. You don't think they-'

Novari couldn't stop her temper from fraying. 'What? I don't think they what? Might be holed up in a love shack over on Kithoi? Eloped to Illium? Are up in the Council chambers right now, squealing on us? Goddess, Antus, they've only met once!'

'That you're aware of,' the turian pointed out. His own voice was growing heated as he glanced at the golden pin on her desk. 'That didn't come from the old man, we both know it. If you don't want to question your assistant, that's fine, I understand it's too risky. But I have things under control at my end. You need to get your people on a tighter leash, before they-'

'Don't talk to me about control!' she hissed. 'You came to me yesterday because you were terrified Eris caught you breaking in-'

Novari's terminal beeped. It was a soft tone to indicate an incoming call but it might as well have been a hammer blow cracking through the office. The ambassador looked at it briefly, the urge to ignore it visible as she ached to throw a retort back at Antus, but eventually thought better of it.

Her tone was brusque. 'Yes, what is it?'

It was the greeter from the front of the embassy. 'Ambassador Novari, a C-Sec Officer Lang is here to speak with you.'

The colour seemed to drain from the faces of both Novari and Antus. A chill ran down the ambassador's spine and her voice shook slightly as she replied.

'I'm extremely busy right now, can't it wait?'

It was a foolish question. If C-Sec wanted to speak with someone, they couldn't just be ignored. Though Novari wasn't going to say it, she knew Antus shared her sudden fear that they had been caught. Doing what? That was a different question and one not easily answered. Their crimes were known only to them. Unless Eris or Tessarius, or indeed both, had told C-Sec differently?

Such thoughts were fleeting shadows in her head, subconscious voices that all clamoured as one in a single moment. Novari dismissed them as best she could and spoke again, before the greeter could stall this Officer Lang further and increase whatever suspicion was already upon her.

'Never mind, send him in.' Laying a hand on the desk to scoop up the pin, she made sure she couldn't be heard as she said to Antus, 'You'd better go.'

'What if he stops me on the way out?'

'Then C-Sec already knows about what we've been doing and it's already too late. Just…just act casual. If he asks, you're here to drop off a datapad. Now go on, if you leave now then it might not even look like you were here to see me at all.'

She tensed as Antus reached out and squeezed her hand. It was only a heartbeat before he was striding away, and Novari spent the few moments she had left peering into her compact mirror, checking the silver lines painting the contours of her face were still even. With a deep breath, the ambassador prepared to receive this most unexpected and unwelcome of audiences.

~~~ME-I2~~~

Lang thanked the greeter with a broad smile and carried the expression with him into the embassy. Even in his relatively short time with C-Sec, he had known many officers who carried their own bitterness and insecurity into the job, letting it bleed through into how they interacted with civilians. It was something his father had always warned him about, and so Lang always tried to smile. It put civilians at ease and he'd found it a much surer way to get what he needed from them.

The asari he passed returned the sentiment, white teeth shining against azure skin as he wove his way through the embassy complex. He'd been to the human embassy for his C-Sec recruitment interviews, and patrolled near the hanar and salarian embassies during his Presidium shifts but this was his first time here. It was much larger than all the others, but he supposed that was to be expected. The asari were the first to discover the Citadel thousands of years ago, and were seen to be the foremost diplomats and negotiators in the galaxy. It was only natural their embassy would be the biggest and most elaborate of the bunch.

The greeter's directions were already muted and vague in Lang's mind. To his shame, he hadn't been listening as closely as he should have; the twin forces of exhaustion and fear were strong, conspiring to rob him of his wits. Coffee was all that sustained him physically at that point and even after all that had happened since the night of the concert, he still wasn't quite used to the new and potent element of danger that came with his newfound role.

A turian guest brushed past him in the corridor, his head bowed. Lang paid him no mind. His attention was focused on the door ahead, Ambassador Siya Novari splayed across the wall beside it in projected blue lettering.

'Okay, Eddie,' he whispered to himself. 'One more time.'

The office beyond the door was large and wide. The far wall was open to another of the ubiquitous balconies that all such rooms seemed to have on the Presidium, while the middle of the room was slightly sunken. This area was bedecked with couches, meeting tables, all manner of planets and sculptures. It looked more like a living room than an office, though the desk in front of the balcony was all business - and behind twin terminal screens and neatly stacked datapads, Ambassador Novari narrowed her eyes at Lang over intertwined fingers.

Her voice echoed out. 'Please, Officer, come on in.'

It was an invitation that lacked any kind of welcome. Lang ensured the door was closed behind him, unusually nervous as he crossed the room under the ambassador's hard glare. Up close, he saw she had a peculiar look for an asari. Her features were strong, sharp and defined; beauty, but that of an ice-crusted mountaintop against crisp blue skies, rather than a graceful bird or soft-petalled flower. The only thing that stopped Lang wincing at his own clumsy metaphors was the way her eyes seemed to not only track his every movement but bore deeply into him.

Novari gestured stiffly to the empty chair in front of her. 'Take a seat.'

Lang obliged - or did he obey? There was an authority to Novari's voice which, coupled with that strange captivating quality of her gaze, made him feel exposed. He was suddenly very certain that she was aware of why he was there, but he managed a rather feebler version of his usual grin nonetheless.

'Thank you, Ma'am.'

Novari smiled thinly back at him from behind her folded hands. 'Of course. Can I offer you a drink? Our asari tea is quite soothing; I understand our fine C-Sec officers are under a lot of stress at the best of times. Or perhaps some of your human coffee? We have some of the finest available.'

The temptation was absurdly strong but Lang shook his head on impulse. He didn't exactly believe Novari would have the beverage drugged before serving but neither did he want to take the chance. The woman was tense, perhaps even more so than he, and more than a little intimidating because of it.

'No thanks, Ma'am. I don't want to take up more of your time than necessary.'

As soon as the words left his lips, Lang swore inwardly. The wait could have bought him at least a few minutes. He didn't even need to drink the stuff, simply "forget" it was there once it had arrived. Novari's mouth twitched subtly and Lang hoped he hadn't offended her.

'So, what can I do for you?' she asked.

Lang tried to keep his face and tone neutral, avoiding the desire to take a deep breath before starting. He couldn't afford to look suspicious by visibly steadying his nerves, and it took a massive effort to smooth out any hitches in his voice as he spoke.

'My name is Officer Eddie Lang, with the Enforcement division of Citadel Security. 'I'm here to take a routine statement over the recent bomb threat in Zakera Ward. The perpetrators are still at large and we're questioning everyone we can in relation to the incident.'

An odd look came over Novari. She frowned in what Lang could only assume was confusion.

'Really? I haven't visited Zakera Ward in some time. I doubt there's anything useful I could tell you.'

'We can't be too careful, Ma'am. We have reason to believe the bomb was transported throughout the station before surfacing in Zakera. Our suspect also moved freely through the Citadel using forged diplomatic credentials and we're trying to build a picture of where he could've gone and who he might've spoken to in that time.'

To his relief, Novari bobbed her head in agreement. She seemed to thaw a little, relaxing her hands and easing in her seat. 'Yes, I see, that makes sense. Very well, ask away, Officer Lang. I'll do what I can.'

As Lang rushed to think of every arbitrary query he could pose to her, he made a show of opening his omni-tool. The device flashed brightly as Lorica linked to it remotely and Lang glanced up at Novari.

'All right, Ambassador, first I need to make you aware this statement is being recorded as evidence and we may need to call you forward to testify at a later date.' Too fast, he thought, and he responded by very slightly drawing out each of his following words. 'Failure to attend any specified hearings hereafter will result in possible charges of perjury and criminal neglect, as deemed appropriate by a Citadel Council-appointed court judge. Is that clear?'

It was all complete gibberish, not a word of it needed to be said but Lang thought it sounded very official. Certainly, if Novari was aware of the deception, she gave no sign of it as she nodded.

'Perfectly clear, Officer. Go ahead, please.'

Licking his lips, Lang made a decision. 'Actually, Ambassador, if it's not too much trouble I wouldn't mind that coffee. If the offer's still open?'

'Certainly,' she replied graciously. The change in her manner from a minute ago was startling. 'My assistant isn't here today, so I'll have to give the task to one of the other staff. You don't mind waiting a little longer than usual, do you?'

Lang's smile widened, making his already broad jaw look even larger. Even as he proceeded to make light pleasantries, trivialising the ambassador's time as he waited for Lorica to finish her upload he couldn't shake off the feeling that Novari had reacted too frostily at the start, such was the starkness of her shift in mood. The change came when he stated his reason for being there, and to Lang that spoke of a guilty conscience.

A government official with a guilty conscience, he mused privately. Go figure.

No matter how he joked with himself, however, the fact continued to prick at his thoughts as the minutes passed by, longer after his omni-tool finally chimed its success. Though Lang had entered Novari's office worried that she might deduce his true motives, by the time he left he couldn't help but wonder at what her own might have been.

~~~ME-I2~~~

Milgrom's First Colonial Bank was one of the oldest buildings on Bekenstein, hardly a grand achievement for such a young colony but that was hardly surprising, given the avaricious culture which personified that world.

Arlen pondered, as he looked up at the front of the glass-fronted structure, if its citizens knew or cared about such prestige as they filed through the open doors in droves. They were all expensive suits and haircuts, their wealth obvious as they shuffled into the bank, and through the windows Arlen could see them conversing with an army of human and asari tellers within.

As the rest of the crew disembarked from the truck, they joined him in observing the bank. Arlen knew this would be the furthest thing possible from a well-planned and coordinated heist. This was a random act of violence and revenge, a bunch of dangerous men and women who'd been hurt and wanted to hurt someone back. He swallowed hard at what they were about to do, but always he kept the T-Seven at the forefront of his consciousness.

As if answering his thoughts, Zwei spoke from beside him. 'Fine morning, eh? You ready to do some damage?'

His good humour - if it could be called such - had returned and the gang's leader was in a fine mood for mayhem.

Arlen nodded, so subtly it was barely a movement. 'You know, we don't exactly look inconspicuous. Do we even have a plan for getting out?'

Zwei laughed quietly and twisted the T-Seven case in his grip as a reminder. 'We got this, haven't we? Likelihood is the pigs'll have the place surrounded before we're done but who cares? We'll get the message out and it won't take long for 'em to verify it - that so long as we've got a bomb that the batarians tried to blow up the Citadel with, we're untouchable.'

Arlen knew of Zwei's escape from the Silver Coast casino from Lina, and how a turian C-Sec agent had been killed while taken hostage during the attempt. He kept his features carefully blank but inside, he burned with the desire for vengeance. Agent Karius was the man's name. Between Karius and Maro Cannis back on the Purgatory, not to mention all the innocents killed alongside them, Arlen felt their spirits as a groaning mass on his soul compelling him to act.

Tuvio, Tuvia and Naraya joined them. The asari in particular looked harder, even icier than usual, were that even possible.

'We really need to take a vacation when all this is over,' she commented idly before looking at Zwei. 'Just the two of us.'

'Sure, why not?' he replied. 'I might even take you if you're lucky.'

'Like hell,' she spat.

With a jerking motion, she took hold of Zwei's shirt and pulled herself in for a deep kiss. There was a kind of desperation in it, and even from the corner of his vision Arlen couldn't see much true affection. Perhaps the danger was what truly excited Naraya, was the part of their relationship to which she was truly addicted. It was no soft thing, the look in her eyes as she pulled back and grinned at her lover hungrily.

Zwei patted her backside and stepped forward, leading the group towards the bank. They all followed in a loose V formation, not a conscious decision but one that seemed only right. Once again Arlen was struck by how intuitively they moved; the fruits of the turians' influence, no doubt.

The First Colonial was not a tall building, only a couple of stories but it was just as flashy and sleek as everything else on Bekenstein. The windows were tall, encompassing most of the front wall, reflecting the blue sky in a false appearance of serenity. Beyond them was a lobby, little more than a wide space dotted with creamy marble benches and large green exotic plants.

A pair of human security guards waited for them immediately on entry, their hands already moving towards the pistols at their hips. One was a woman with short-cropped black hair, and she was the first to challenge them.

'Hold it!' she shouted. 'Weapons and armour aren't allowed in he-'

Her voice was cut off as Zwei raised his hands and snapped back his fists, sending both guards cracking towards him and into the windows with powerful biotic pulses. Tuvio and Tuvia rushed past him to secure their weapons, the screams already starting before the group was fully inside. Naraya's voice carried above them all as she savagely barked out orders and threats in equal measure.

'Help Tuvia clear out the back,' Zwei shouted.

Arlen didn't need to be told twice and he made his way through the lobby, pistol drawn and senses fully alert as he readied himself for that single, unmissable moment he could make his move.

One way or another, it would all end here.