Disclaimer: I do no own Mass Effect, I do not claim to own Mass Effect, I am only doing this for fun.
Author Notes: We are moving ahead to the final major arc of season two. The ideas behind this arc have been brewing in my head since season one. I hope you enjoy it!
Episode 49: Operation Icarus
It took a good forty minutes for Kaidan and Jenkins to rig up a gurney with which they could transport Nabu's body up to the roof. Once there, it was a matter of waiting. Shepard could only ask Kaidan to make sure the colonists were stable in the meantime. She took some pain medication, but it merely dulled the pain, she still felt unwell. Thus she closed herself off in the Kodiak's cockpit to take a nap.
It was five hours until Joker jarred her awake when he broke radio silence. He was positively gleeful when he announced that the mere sight of the Grecian flotilla's frigates made their hidden enemy bug out. The Thermopylae, Salamis, and Plataea still fired torpedoes at the enemy's heat signature, but the ship was gone by the time the warheads got to the coordinates and detonated. Shepard was not surprised, and she also knew that the Impera was unlikely to come back. Still, she asked Joker to relay a request to the other ships, they were to establish watch around the planet, just in case.
After that it was another two hours before Joker called in to announce the arrival of the unit sent in by Colonial Affairs. The vanguard was the SSV Nagano, a support cruiser carrying search and rescue teams as well as combat engineers. Trailing half an hour behind it was the SHV Florence Nightingale, one of the Alliance's three cruiser-sized hospital ships known as the Sisters of Mercy. That arrival told Shepard all she wanted to know about what was going on. Colonial Affairs were putting on a show for the Council, so that no one blamed the Alliance for anything down the line.
The Nagano's shuttles arrived first. The engineers descended on Zhu's Hope to secure the scene and assess the structure. Shepard directed a team down to the Thorian's lair, another to the tower damaged by the Heretic ship, and a third to the tower where the administrative staff took shelter. Even though only one individual was outright arrested, everyone else would have to answer questions about their part in the whole thing. Colonial Affairs would be thorough and exhausting just to save face. Shepard would not dream of getting in the way of that.
After the Nagano's teams dispersed, the medics from the Florence Nightingale arrived, flying five UT-47P Kodiak ambulances, each painted white with red bands, and bearing a gold caduceus over a gilded filigree lantern just aft of the nose. It took some careful maneuvering by their pilots to ease all five onto the roof, but these Kodiaks were built for tight landings. In place of the standard Kodiak's four ventral thrusters they had eight. Each produced only half the thrust, but their cowling reduced the wash radius and thus the clearance required.
When they finally settled down, Shepard found the chief paramedic and briefed him on the situation. She wanted to make sure the Florence Nightingale's staff knew what they were dealing with. A special concern for her were the spores. It would not do for the Florence Nightingale to become contaminated. Once done, Shepard was all too happy to sign the scene over to their capable hands, so that the situation would pass out of her hands.
Liara came up then to say her goodbyes. The archeologist decided to cut her expedition short, but she wanted to retrieve her research materials before leaving. Shepard was perfectly happy wish Liara the best, say her good-byes, and call her team back together for their long-deserved return to the Normandy. Some exhausted, crabby part of her was doubly happy not to have to figure out how they would accommodate three Asari for the day-long trip back to the Citadel. Space was becoming a bit of a premium on the Normandy.
The final part was arranging things for Nabu. Shepard meant it when she said she did not want him becoming a science experiment. It was not a matter of her beliefs, but her ethics and some basic respect. After a discussion with Admiral Hackett via the QEC it was decided she would hand the body over to the Thermopylae, who would return it to Arcturus. Admiral Hackett would personally take it from there. The frigate's captain sent a few of her crew to the Normandy on their own Kodiak. There was little in the way of procedure as Admiral Hackett had laid the ground-work, nevertheless it all still took time. By the time the Thermopylae's shuttle departed and the bay door closed, Shepard's headache was worse than ever, and her peripheral vision was fading in and out. Shepard dimly remembered ordering Joker to point them toward the Citadel before she crawled out of her armor, stowed it away for later cleaning, and went up to her cabin for a quick shower.
By the time she finally reached the med bay, the faint hiss of the pneumatic door sounded like a roar and the pain pulses made her dizzy. "Doctor, I think I might have done something medically inadvisable again." She said as soon as the med bay doors slid shut behind her.
"Hello, Commander. I'm afraid you will have to be more specific. There are a number of things you enjoy doing that I would deem medically inadvisable." Chakwas replied even as she got up from her desk, triggered the closure of the privacy shutters, and moved toward the small sink.
"We encountered a living Prothean, they are contact telepaths, and the situation got complicated after that. Ultimately my head just does not enjoy telepathy," Shepard explained.
"I see. On the bed. I need take a scan to see how bad it is this time."
Shepard did not protest at all, just sat down on the scanner bed and toed off her boots before lying back. The moment she was fully reclined, the pain flared, she winced and grit her teeth, but said nothing. Hopefully she would be up to her eyeballs in pain medication soon.
Doctor Chakwas came around, now wearing a pair of clean gloves, in a few moments she pulled the reader down over Shepard's head and fired up the scanner. The data from the machine was instantly transmitted and displayed on a monitor mounted over the bed and the doctor hummed under her breath.
Shepard knew what that tone meant. "Okay, it feels a bit worse than the time after Noveria, but… it wasn't like I had a choice." That sounded like a child explaining themselves in front of the principle even to her own ears, but really, what other options did she have? Let Nihlus or Garrus shoot Nabu dead where he stood for laying a hand on her? That just did not suit her sensibilities. Considering what Nabu had given her, a little bit of pain was a small price to pay, right?
"A bit worse... that is certainly putting it mildly," Chakwas stated. "The swelling is quite a bit worse than after Noveria. And if it were it just Noveria. Need I remind you about your recent concussion?"
Shepard winced, and this time it little to do with another on-rushing wave of pain.
"The pain you undoubtedly feel is the result of direct pressure. If there is an issue with your peripheral vision, then that is caused by pressure on the optic nerves. You've taken first aid pain-killers, correct?"
"Yes." Shepard replied, feeling every bit like a scolded child right then.
"Good, but I can't say I approve of your recklessness."
"I really did not have a choice." Shepard replied. "The toxin we found on Noveria was designed for the Protheans. Nabu was exposed to it a very long time ago. The Thorian somehow managed to… stop the symptoms from manifesting, but once it was dead, they kicked back in with a vengeance. The Asari read and share thoughts but… Nabu? His ability was something else. I now speak fluent Prothean!" She was babbling, she knew that, but she could not stop it. Surely a little bit of overenthusiasm was pardonable. She did not get this excited very often.
Doctor Chakwas reached up to tap at the console displaying the readings, "You say Nabu… taught you a whole language?"
"Yes!" Shepard replied. "One minute it was incomprehensible… and the next, I could understand everything. I was able to converse with him in it. I have witnesses." Too many witnesses, really. She could not help but wonder just what Liara would do with what she saw.
"That might actually explain what I'm seeing," Doctor Chakwas murmured. "You have swelling overall, similar to your previous experiences with telepathic individuals. But this time it is a little more pronounced around your Broca and Wernicke's areas, the language centers of the brain."
Shepard blinked, stunned.
"However, you are keeping a smooth conversation. I assume you haven't encountered any glaring memory gaps, but let's see… what is the square root of a hundred-forty-four?"
"Twelve," Shepard replied automatically.
"And… Newton's first law of motion?" Chakwas asked.
Shepard realized the Doctor was asking her exactly the sort of general knowledge questions a sniper would have to know by heart. It was a loose way of testing her long-term memory. "An object at rest stays at rest, and an object in motion stays in motion, unless acted upon by an outside force."
"And your mother's first name?"
"Hannah," Shepard replied instantly. That was a general question to cover deeply personal memory. It was usually a very bad sign if someone began to forget the names of their relatives.
"Good, that seems fine… but when you are able, I want you to verify a few other things for me. If you experience any difficulty remembering the process of maintaining your gear, I want to know immediately. I also want to know if you begin misplacing things."
"Will do, Doctor." Shepard replied. "I was planning on cleaning my gear top to bottom when bending down hurts less."
"Excellent. I will give you something to help ease the pain. Cleaning your gear should be alright, but no exercise or other strenuous activities. I insist you get some rest. I will send Hackett a message, if I have my way you will not get a mission for at least a week."
Shepard knew there was no use protesting. The doctor only wanted what was best for her. "No problem, but Admiral Hackett is not the one I'm worried about."
"Commander, I sincerely doubt Hannah will chastise you. It would mean she has to acknowledge that you're capable of doing something wrong." Chakwas replied, amusement in her tone.
Shepard chuckled, but quickly bit it off and grimaced when more pain shot through her head. Plenty people thought her a spoiled princess raised by an over-indulgent mother. However, it was a bit of a show. Hannah simply never let a third party witness anything. Shepard got plenty of earfuls when no one was there to see it.
Doctor Chakwas turned off the scanner and then moved toward her supply cabinet without saying another word. Shepard let herself practically melt into the bed. Her conversation with the doctor gave her something to ponder on. Nabu said experience and knowledge left biological markers. Was her little problem basically proof of that? It seemed like he created an actual physical change when he taught her the Prothean language. Were the map and the language the only things he imprinted on her mind? Did she have a way of knowing if anything else was altered? Could he even alter anything?
Two hours later Shepard was in the shuttle bay, sitting on a crate by the refresher unit as it worked to decontaminate her undersuit. She had already put her armor plates through the cycle. Their smooth finish meant a pressure rinse with a decontamination solution was enough. The undersuit was different, its weave was a potential haven for spores, so she had to put the suit through a longer, more complex cycle. While the machine worked, she had disassembled her weapons in turn and proceeded to clean them manually, twins first, as modifications made both more difficult to clean. She left Nike for last.
The silence in the shuttle bay was near absolute, so when she heard a brief chatter, she looked up from Nike's receiver assembly and glanced toward her silent companion. Legion sat, still as a statue, on a crate some distance away, occasionally chattering. Their facial light was dimmed almost to nothing, but the iris was open wide. As far as she could tell they were recharging, and very likely doing some internal maintenance, hence the occasional burst of chatter. Behind them the Normandy's fabricator hummed and whirred at it machined the parts to fix Legion's damaged emotive plate.
Seeing as nothing had changed, she turned back to Nike and began to run a fine brush along the inner components. A moment later she was jarred out of the routine by the sound of the elevator door. Shepard looked up just in time to see Nihlus step out, and his eyes instantly landed on her.
"There you are, I was looking for you," he said.
Shepard would not buy that, not when EDI could have told him exactly where she was. "I was hardly hiding. Where's the fire?" Doctor Chakwas probably should have told him to leave her alone as well. Then again, given how overprotective Nihlus could be, Shepard did not want him to know.
"No fire," Nihlus replied as he drew close. "Is Legion alright?" He asked as he glanced toward the geth.
Shepard grinned, "I am pretty sure they are… asleep," she said as she glanced toward the geth. The choice of word was intentional. If Legion was aware, they would probably think she meant that in the organic sense, and correct her. However, there was no movement or correction, which meant they were largely unaware. "So, what's going on?" she asked as she turned back to Nihlus.
Nihlus leaned against a nearby pillar and folded his arms over his abdomen, "I am worried for you."
Shepard sighed, "I'm fine. Doctor Chakwas already put me on medical writ. We're due for a quiet week."
"Good. Shepard, take however long you need," Nihlus replied.
"That would be lovely, but you and I both know that evil masterminds wait for no one."
Nihlus sighed as his arms fell to his sides, "Alright, point made. Still, take your time, whatever time you can get. What happened with that Prothean… it was something else. He really taught you a whole language in the space of a few seconds?"
"He basically uploaded the language and some other information… as if from one biological computer to another. I know, eerie analogy, but perhaps appropriate. There are people who say the organic brain is nothing more than a quantum computer with protein-based circuits."
"And… what he did does not bother you?" Nihlus asked.
"He did not ask, that's what bothers me. But, could I do something about it? Nope. Not then, and definitely not anymore."
"You should have let me-" The volume of his voice rose with every word, until it echoed in the shuttle bay.
"No!" Shepard had to conceal a wince as she stuck up her hand to stop him in his tracks. She knew what the end of that sentence was. There would be no more shooting of unarmed people on her watch. "He was desperate to pass information, maybe that made him careless, or perhaps his ability was already affected by the toxin, but I do not think he meant to harm me. Now, as far as I can tell, I'm still me, just suddenly fluent in a long-dead language and having seen a rather interesting map."
Nihlus deflated, "A map… of?"
She could tell he was still unhappy, and probably just chose not to press the issue. That overprotective streak of his was definitely rearing up. "Nabu showed me the rough locations of three Prothean ark colonies planned for the worst case scenario. Whatever was going on back then, the toxin was just the beginning. They deemed cryostasis as their best option, if that tells you anything. Well… one ark is in Alliance space, and the other two are in the Terminus. I can tell because the map showed me the major relay corridors."
Nihlus straightened as if someone had electrocuted him. "He showed you a map of the relay system? Shepard! Put aside the arks for a moment… maybe you know how to reach Harbinger!"
Shepard shook her head. While she had seen a map of the relay system as the Protheans had known it, she also knew what Nabu showed her was too general for what they needed. "The map I saw was just an image of the galaxy with white lines to show major relay lanes. I think he wanted me to know specifically on what galactic arm and on what major relay corridor the Arks were. He showed me whole clusters, not specific worlds."
Nihlus sighed long and distinctly defeated, "Alright. I had to ask. It would have been nice."
Shepard nodded, "You're right. It would have been nice. Still, I think we are one small step closer. I now understand their language! That opens a whole lot of doors! And… if the arks exist, we might still luck out."
"Do you think the arks could still be operational?" Nihlus asked.
"I don't know." Shepard replied. "Fifty thousand years is a long time to keep people in suspended animation. But… I want to be hopeful." She would indulge in a rare bit of uncharacteristic optimism verging on wishful thinking.
"Then that just leaves one last question, what do you intend to tell the Council about it?"
"That depends. Will they believe me, or automatically assume I am crazy?"
"When you put it like that…"
Shepard nodded, "Nihlus, I'm pragmatic. I have no way to prove I actually know the language. I can't tell them about the arks without mentioning my source. They will not help me in any meaningful way. They can't start a dig into Alliance space, sovereignty issues." Not to mention that if she told the Council about the arks some within the Alliance would decry her a traitor. "And we both know that the Council won't fund an expedition into the Terminus."
"I see your point," Nihlus replied.
Shepard decided it was best to shift tracks, "To be sure, we want to confirm the arks exist at all. The one in Alliance space is the best place to start. Now if we had someone on the dig staff-"
"Oh, but we can have that!" Nihlus suddenly cut in as his eyes lit up. "Doctor T'Soni seemed very interested. Of course, first you will have to convince her to see things the right way."
"Do I want to do that?" Shepard asked. She knew exactly what he meant with that euphemism, but did she really want to drag in someone who had hitherto avoided being dragged in? Shepard could see the logic behind Nihlus' idea, but she was just not sold on it.
Nihlus glanced toward Legion, but quickly turned back to face her. "We need someone like her. She can keep us up to date on any dig she takes part in. But before that, you need to convince her of the need for utmost secrecy. Even a century old, she is a maiden, an asari child. She will still have ideas about what should be done, but not the ability to foresee the long-term consequences."
Shepard nodded. Nihlus was right in that assessment. They needed Liara to be on board with safeguarding the arks before they told her anything. If she revealed their hypothetical existence in some paper, the two in the Terminus would be in immediate danger. No Terminus native could be allowed to know about them. They would look for the Arks just because they were a source for Prothean artifacts, something to loot and sell to the highest bidder. "Liara heard my conversation with Nabu, the parts in English. She heard a mention of the ark colonies, plural, but not where or how many there are. We need to head her off, before she starts talking about them. We will never see their contents if the wrong people find them first."
"Exactly."
"That said, I am wondering how likely it is that we can get her on the dig within Alliance space. I'll be blunt, Nihlus. This has all the makings of a second Mars cache. The Alliance will want to keep it all to themselves."
"They would be fools not to, Shepard." Nihlus argued back. "But need I remind you that the Council knows about the Mars ruins? There will be no containing this, and they would have to know that much. Liara can request permission to join the project, and we can justify her presence if she is one of your hired specialists and the project has to do with our on-going search for a way to reach Harbinger." Nihlus argued back.
Shepard had to concede that point then and there. "Alright. I will have to get on that as soon as possible." It was one more thing to do while convalescing on the Citadel. Thought it was made a little bit easier by the fact that she knew Liara would be a willing participant. No one in their right mind would refuse an opportunity that could make their career.
"Good. Well, that was some things I thought you would want to think on." Nihlus pushed off the pillar. "And I am sorry, I did not want to compound your work. I just wanted to make sure you were on top of things."
"No I get it, thanks."
"I will go now, before I think of anything else." Nihlus grinned, turned, and made his way toward the elevator without saying another word.
Shepard watched him go, but when the elevator door closed, she sighed. The road to misery really was paved with good intentions. Still, she had some time to herself. There was little to nothing she could do while the Normandy was doing a FTL jump.
After her armor and weapons were thoroughly cleaned, Shepard went up to the OD to get started on her report. There was a lot of information to record, while her memory was relatively fresh. The situation called for such painstaking effort. She first laid out the facts in point-form, so that nothing would slip her mind, and then got started on the report around them. Once she got into it, she lost all sense of time.
Thus she literally jumped in her seat when the OD's door chimed behind her. A glance at the chronometer revealed that she had been there for two hours. "Come in!" She called.
Having finished another sentence, she turned around in her chair just in time to see Garrus step inside just enough to allow the door to close behind him. "Commander may- I am not interrupting, am I?"
Shepard turned around in her chair. "No. Not at all Garrus, what can I do for you?"
"I- well- there is no way to be tactful about this, but I know that the vessel housing Nazara could not be a Heretic one." He shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Now I understand that you could not discuss the matter while Doctor T'Soni was present, or with the crew, but..."
Shepard noted the way his mandibles moved, it betrayed his nervousness. He was likely unsure whether he was being insubordinate. She also knew that she could not conceal the facts from him, not when he was clearly on their trail already. "Have a seat, this… will take a while."
"Right," Garrus replied under his breath as he moved across the room toward the couch.
Shepard watched him find a seat before she moved to follow him. She perched on the extension and took a deep breath. "You're right, Nazara is not flying a Heretic-made vessel, even if it now has Heretic loyalties."
"Can I ask whose vessel it is? If it avoided the Normandy, then it has active stealth, and you did say that its offensive capabilities match our own." Garrus stated, blunt as a hammer, "It has a Thanix system."
Shepard almost cringed, but stopped herself. Of course Garrus would pick up on the truth in that choice of phrasing. This conversation would only give Garrus more reasons to hate Saren. She would not be surprised if Garrus lost all respect for her as well. "Yes, it does. Nazara's… ship-body is a Hierarchy-built frigate."
Garrus' jaw and mandibles slackened for a brief moment, but he caught himself. "Spirits, who- what- how?"
Shepard figured it was a kindness to cut to the chase and let the pillorying begin. "It's the Impera."
"The Impera?" Garrus repeated quickly, voice rising in volume. "But that would mean- how did Nazara get control of it?"
Shepard sighed, "As far as I know, Saren found Nazara some seven years ago, maybe more, and installed it on the Impera. I don't pretend to understand his reasoning with that, but I can make an educated guess. What matters right now is that Nazara is Prothean. I don't think it was ever loyal to Saren, and when it found out about Harbinger, it finally decided to show its true face."
"That lying, barefaced traitor! I knew he was lying to the Council, but I could never have imagined it was on something like this!"
This was where her actions entered the picture. "Yes, and… it gets more complicated from there. I figured things out shortly before Nazara went rogue. Saren's reaction at the meeting on board the Kilimanjaro when Legion revealed Harbinger's existence to everyone present. Nihlus' reactions to that, and EDI's existence. Then, Saren's interest in Solcrum… it all added up. What more, I had a brief opportunity to notify the Council, but I decided not to." She turned to stare at the floor.
"Kryik's involvement does not surprise me, but Co- Shepard… why did you remain silent?"
Shepard looked up, surprised. Where was the shouting? The castigation?
"I just… want to understand your reasoning. You must have a reason," his tone had dropped to a barely audible whisper, and though his mandibles were drawn up against his chin, there was a peculiar softness in his eyes.
She took a deep breath to steady herself. "My reasoning- well, I looked at the bigger picture…" she began. She owed Garrus the truth. "After what happened on Solcrum, Saren knows about the Heretics almost as much as we do. As dishonest as he is, he is a Spectre. Harbinger is a threat to the galaxy, and now it is Saren's enemy just as much as it is ours. And as shady as this will sound… it gave me leverage. If Saren tries to torpedo my candidacy, he will go down with me."
"But… he lied to the Council. Can you put any trust in him after that?"
Shepard had expected this line of questioning. "When it comes to this, yes. There is an important distinction- selfishness, lies, and negligence are Saren's biggest crimes. He had nothing to do with Nazara's violence. Despite his glaring personality flaws… I think he does have scruples, and so, he will want to restore his honor by hunting down Nazara. To do so he will have to go after Harbinger as well. He knows Nazara, and I still need that knowledge, regardless of his status. But I will not deny that I would benefit more if he remains a Spectre. I could use his influence as well. If he corroborates what I say, when I say it… the Council won't just write me off as a lunatic." Or brain damaged after one too many concussions. Shepard knew that her medical record could be used against her.
"And what will prevent him from not corroborating anything?" Garrus asked.
"An unspoken mutual benefit agreement. I know what happened, what he needs, and I haven't reported him. He knows I have reasons to go after Harbinger and Nazara, and I already offered him my help." Shepard replied. She was perfectly fine with keeping his secret if it got her within grenade-chucking range of Harbinger's and-or Nazara's quantum cores.
Garrus sighed loudly. "I believe the phrase goes… you are playing with fire."
Shepard nodded, there was no refuting that.
"I hate this," Garrus grumbled. "But, I would be lying if I did not see your logic."
Shepard said nothing. Should she take this as a sign that Garrus would not come after her for corruption just yet? The thought that Garrus might see her as no better than Saren hurt right then.
"Commander, are you really alright with letting him get away with this?"
"I am not." Shepard replied bluntly and without hesitation. "He is only getting away with this because, very bluntly, he is a means to an end." Well, that and she still felt it would be a little hypocritical to bring him down over an illegal AI when she was no better.
"There is irony in there somewhere," Garrus rumbled, a note of amusement slipping into his voice.
Shepard nodded, "Well, there is one last thing that I need to say right now." She caught his gaze and bowed her head. "I am sorry that I kept you in the dark. Please believe me when I say my intentions were..." she could not say pure, could she? Harmless? That word did not fit either. "Dubious, but without malice. I sent you away because if Saren saw you as an associate, you would be a target, whether for association, or as a means of getting to me. I thought that by keeping you away… Saren might just see you as a victim, someone I'm using. It will fit his narrative. I'm the loathsome human, nothing else from me." It depended on just how blinded by prejudice Saren happened to be.
"You are willing to face his wrath alone?"
"If need be. I will not let anyone become the victim of my schemes." If she made her bed, she would lay in it. "However, I will understand if you decide that you don't want anything to do with this." She owed him that much.
Garrus sighed long and deep. "Shepard, you give me too little credit. I knew you sent me away because you needed to talk to Saren without my father overhearing it. Spirits, have you not wondered why I have not asked about this sooner? I knew you had some scheme going with Saren. I also know how much you love a good bit of blackmail. I gave you quite a bit myself, remember?"
Shepard blinked. The look in his eyes was not what she expected. There was no anger, no betrayal. If anything, the twinkle there was mischievous.
"If anyone deserves a dose of their own medicine, it is Saren." Garrus rumbled, low and conspiratorial, a smile breaking out as he leaned toward her, never losing eye contact. "And the fact that you are human? Oh that just makes it better."
"You're not angry?" Shepard asked. She sounded breathless even to her own ears.
"I admit, maybe a little. I never thought Saren's lies could reach this scale, but I knew that you knew more than you told me. You always know more than you tell people. Except maybe Kryik. You two share everything."
Shepard noted the way his mandibles drew up and his brow plates hooded his eyes at that word. Her mind wanted to call it a flash of jealousy, but she could not trust that thought. Turian facial plates moved very little, and thus their facial expressions were ancillary to the tonal nuances and differences emitted by their second larynx.
"I know Saren is hardly the first Spectre to lie to the Council. He will hardly be the last either. Fact is that the Council sometimes do not want to know how things get done. But you know he is lying, and I trust you. If you say Saren's knowledge and skills are worth this, then I choose to trust your judgement."
"Thank you, Garrus. That means a lot to me." There was no way she could fully express just how much it meant to her. The acceptance, even with tiny asterisk in the corner, lifted a metaphorical rock off her back.
Garrus nodded, "And now I feel like I should apologize too. I came here for some facts, and I got much more. If this made you feel worse… I am sorry."
Shepard shook her head, "It's fine. I can't hold anything against you."
"I still should have realized that now was not the best time for a heavy discussion." Garrus went on quietly.
Shepard tipped her head to the side, "Really Garrus, I'm not made of spun glass. Don't worry about it." She was one of those people who got adverse reactions to telepathic contact. She had been engineered not to be allergic to anything, but this one apparently slipped through. It was almost ironic.
"Alright, but it is still best for me to leave you alone." He got up and edged away.
Shepard watched silently as he made his way toward the door. Then, a few seconds later, he was gone. She realized that something had put him out of his comfort zone right then. Was it just the thought that he might have made her head feel worse? She would not put it past Garrus to latch onto the thought and not let go. She would let him off the hook with whatever it was. She sighed, got up, and went back to her desk. She still needed to finish that report.
Meanwhile on the Citadel…
The communicator over her bed began to ping, jarring her out of the world within the book in her hands. She set the pad on the table, got up, and made her way toward the bed. The device continued to ping, without realizing how rather unwanted its interference happened to be right then. Begrudgingly she placed a thumb against its biometric reader. "System, run biometric verification. Authorization code epsilon kappa alpha tau eta."
"Biometrics confirmed, authorization accepted… Connecting." The VI replied mechanically.
The communicator buzzed with static for a long moment while the QEC inside synchronized. She sighed. She had been rather enjoying the quiet. She had gotten way too used to the quiet as of late. Quiet was nice, as it allowed her to do whatever she wanted. Mostly it made it almost possible to forget that she was at the beck and call of another.
"There you are, Jezebel. We have no time for dalliances and delays. Not with the endgame in sight."
"Of course, Mister King." She replied. It was really a good thing that he could not see her expression right then. It took a lot just to keep her growing distaste for his attitude out of her voice. She had to remind herself that the job was nearly done, and then she could take her pay, and vanish.
"Have you retrieved the package detailing you next target?"
"Yes sir."
"And I will assume that you scouted the target's routine?"
"I've picked out a few possibilities, which one I use depends on the timing you give me." Only a little more, and she could vanish and never have to deal with this bastard ever again. She already had a destination picked out. There were plenty of places on Earth where she could go unnoticed once she got a tan and maybe changed her hair style.
"Good. A window is coming up. I want you ready in about twelve hours. I will contact you again when the time is right to make your move."
"As you wish."
"Do not fail me, Jezebel. This is important."
Did he think she would fail? Had she failed once before? She could not display impetuousness, but the suggestion grated on her nerves. "It will be done."
"Good. That is all." The communicator scratched as the link disconnected.
She did not say it, but this job was bothering her more than it should. Killing the Executor of C-Sec was a bit of a tall order. The administrative assistant had been easy enough, the location picked itself, and she caught him on his way home after his weekly drink night. The admiral had been easy as well, she just had to use the equipment provided, and he never knew what happened. But Venari Pallin? From what she found out he had a routine, but that was like saying a fortress had predictable guard rotations. It did not help much. There was no obvious weakness to exploit.
She sat down on the bed and reached down between the mattress and frame to pull out an old-fashioned paper notebook. If she was to act within the next twelve hours, she needed to know what Pallin would be doing at that time. She thumbed through the book. The executor was a remarkably straight-laced individual. His set routine consisted of a lot of work, delivered meals at the office, meetings with the Council as well, and sleep. He had no spouse or children, and if there were any dalliances, he was very discreet about them.
The time-frame she got coincided with the night cycle on the Citadel, which worked for her. The best place to catch him would be when he got to his apartment block after work. He had a designated parking spot in the garage below his building, and was often one of the last ones to return home. She closed the notebook and stuck it between the mattress and frame again. If she was going to do this, she would need every little bit of those twelve hours to get her kit ready.
Elsewhere…
Charles reached for the internal comm and tapped a key to connect him to the waiting room outside his office. "Raul, has Banes arrived yet?"
"Yes, he has, Mister Siever." the assistant replied.
"Send him in," Charles ordered as he leaned back into his seat.
A moment later the office door opened and in stepped Armistan Banes, clad in an expensive suit under one of his pristine anachronistic white lab coats. To this day Charles could not decide whether Banes was that unaware of the stereotype he fit, or he was actually using it for his own amusement. Today he was followed by two figures. They had stopped just beyond the door, allowing it to close behind them, and slipped into parade rest in synch. One could only be described as man-mountain in black and white armor, complete with a closed helmet. The other was female, of a slimmer build, but similarly geared.
"Mister Siever," Banes greeted in his typical laconic fashion.
"Banes," Charles replied. "I assume these are from the field-ready batch?"
"Yes they are." Banes replied, sounding very much proud of himself.
The two troopers stood so still that Charles had trouble telling whether they were even breathing, but he knew they were definitely alive, if only by clinical definition. The Spartoi were rapidly-maturing, genetically modified organic automatons, trained via artificial memory engram coding. They were more machine than human being, down to that machine trait, an utter inability to feel pain, introduced intentionally through congenital analgesia.
"I honestly expected something… more, Doctor."
"Oh, they are nothing spectacular to look at it," Banes shifted his weight and motioned to the male standing on his left, "In fact, this male variant is a standard multipurpose assault unit. They have no particular specialization. Their basic kit includes shields, exo-frame, and their armaments are an assault rifle and a shotgun."
"Shock troops?" Charles asked. The assault unit's sheer size was definitely another advantage. It made him wonder just whom Banes had used for the base template.
"Currently, yes. The first generation imprint pattern is still very basic. But my specialists are constantly working on improving them." Banes said. "Also, you should know that all our infantry firearms are keyed to an identification chip implanted into the Spartoi themselves. It is a little surprise to anyone who tries to use their weapons."
"A nice touch." Charles replied as he continued to watch the two troopers, and neither had moved so much as a muscle so far. When Banes told him previously that the Spartoi would not have individuality, Charles had not been sure what that meant. Now he saw it in action. Anyone else would have been bothered if someone was talking about them as if they were objects, or not in the room. These two did not seem capable of the thought, as if they were a VI without a sense of self.
"Now the female is specialized." Banes motioned to his right, "I call this variant the Phantom. They are biotic, and I used data from Jezebel to refine their capabilities. Their peak remains not much higher than hers, but the beauty is in what they can do it with. Their kit includes a tactical cloak, a monomolecular blade, a suppressed handgun, and a biotic barrier under a kinetic shield. That makes them capable of withstanding most personal defense weapons. If you send a Phantom after someone, they will not able to stop it before the fatal blow is struck. I guarantee that."
"I assume the cloaks come from the Hephaestus development project." Charles asked. Why did Banes make the Phantoms female? Was it nothing more than his personal preference? It seemed redundant to have multiple genetic molds when the difference in them ought to be little more than programming.
"Of course," Banes replied. "The very best that we have."
"And why is their biotic peak so low?" Charles wondered.
"Ah that has to do with eezo exposure during primary maturation. I am still refining the process of eezo seeding. If I add too much, too quickly, they develop the same problems of heavy exposure in utero, increased odds of defects and outright death. A reduced exposure means higher survival rates, but lower potential," Banes explained.
"I see," Charles turned, caught Banes' wandering gaze, and forced him to hold it. Some part of him was perfectly happy to hear that the doctor was struggling to replicate biotic abilities in his dolls. Natural biotics like him would not lose value for a while yet. "And… how many units are ready for deployment as of right now?"
Banes straightened, "Currently I have twenty-five ready units. Of them, twenty are assault type."
Twenty was a good number, Charles could work with that. "That's good, doctor, but I will not deploy them until Operation Icarus concludes. I don't want to show our hand."
"Fair enough." Banes replied.
Charles thought he sounded mildly annoyed right then.
"Now, speaking of Jezebel, I discovered something in her implant's readouts you should be aware of. There is degradation. Her biotics will become unstable within a few months. She says she hasn't noticed any signs of it, but I am starting to doubt her truthfulness. Human nature asserting itself, I suppose."
"I'm not surprised she is lying to us," Charles replied. Jezebel's services were only needed for Operation Icarus. Ultimately she was a disposable asset. If she chose to become a problem, then they could field-test one of the Phantoms and remove the problem in one fell swoop.
Banes clasped his hands behind his back. "As for the degradation problem, I am looking into it. It will not be a problem for the Phantoms and any future biotic variants I produce. That said, the Spartoi maturation process is very rapid, and as a result they age quickly. Each has no more than four years of combat-worthiness, so it may not even matter."
"I'm sure that's assuming they do not take a bullet to the head." Charles drawled as he shifted in his chair.
"Their equipment mitigates a lot of the risk, however that remains an occupational hazard one cannot fully eliminate."
Charles had to concede that point. Even the best soldiers were never entirely safe from a bullet to the head. Still, he doubted whether the Spartoi imprinted training was exhaustive. There would be losses simply because of skill gaps. "How long will it take you to mature a second batch?"
Banes' arms stiffened and his shoulder rose, "It takes about a month for primary maturation, another two for secondary maturation and imprinting. Phantoms take an extra two weeks in primary maturation due to the eezo seeding process."
Charles was not impressed. Three to four months between batches? "Pardon me, Doctor, but-"
"I am aware of the logistics quandary, Mister Siever. However, my resources are limited."
That was his one interruption that Charles would forgive. "Alright, but before that I want to see them go through some trials."
"That can be arranged," Banes replied automatically.
"Good." Charles could probably put them to work on low-risk objectives as a force multiplication option, a supplement to their former-military combat specialists. It would prove their worth in some fashion. Ultimately he knew they needed the Spartoi. They were unlikely to spill Cerberus secrets if captured, and they had no pasts or service records, there was nothing to track and connect back to Cerberus. "I want trials of weapon accuracy to begin with. Then I want to know how they perform in groups, both on their own, and mixed with our specialists."
"Consider it done," Banes replied.
"Good. Until then, I have no other questions or concerns. That will be all."
Banes made a show of bowing to him. Then he turned on his heels and moved toward the door. When he exited, the Spartoi followed without needing to be told, like ducklings behind their mother.
On the Citadel, 0100 hours, local time…
The upscale presidium apartment complex where Venari Pallin lived was an almost-perfect hunting ground at this time of night. Getting into the covered parking garage was laughably easy if one had a cloak, she simply walked in behind another car. After that she found the target's designated parking spot and fired her sniffer program to take care of the camera that overlooked it. For all security knew the device had malfunctioned.
Her target often burned the midnight oil, but he would eventually come home, and his exhaustion would only help. Turians were predators with superior senses, but exhaustion after a long day of work might just take the edge off them. After that, there was no need to get fancy. She would kill him and get out. There was a skycar waiting for her in a shopping strip parking lot two blocks away, an easy jaunt under cloak, and no one would be the wiser.
At this time of night the garage was nearly full, she knew how many cars were supposed to be there, and right then, only two were missing from their usual spots. Pallin's on one side, and another on the opposite. There was no way for her to miss the target, and very low odds of being interrupted. There was the slim possibility that Pallin might not come home tonight. She would not rule out the possibility of an unscheduled routine break, but there was nothing to be done about that, other than wait. She still had some time left on her cloak's battery pack.
Suddenly the large garage entry doors began to move, the sound echoed across the bare grey walls. She watched as a black vehicle with tinted windows slid in. Was it Pallin's? Or the last resident? By a stroke of coincidence both owned a black vehicle. The car moved slowly, clearly not on autopilot, as the VI would have guided it into place with precision and confidence. It picked up a little bit of speed as it cleared the entryway, but not much. Then it passed the turn that would take it almost directly to the wrong parking spot.
It was Pallin, she smiled. He continued through the parking lot, toward his spot, and drove right past her. In less than a minute after that the car stopped, then turned on the spot, backed into place, set down, and its running lights went out.
She ducked low and used other cars as cover as she made her way toward the car. Some meters away dropped one hand to the pistol strapped to her hip and turned it on. The vehicle's door slid open and the executor got out. His immaculate dark blue suit brought out his light blue markings over brown plates, making him quite distinct. She drew her pistol and inched closer as she watched him secure the vehicle.
Then the executor straightened like a ramrod and whirled around.
She froze where she was. Had he heard something?
His eyes darted across the parking lot. She could see his nasal plates shift as those predator's senses worked overtime. Then his eyes landed on the exact spot where she was, and were it not for her cloak their eyes would have met. In the next instant he ducked back into the vehicle, going for the small storage compartment set into the dashboard. She charged forward, disconnecting her cloak mid-run, and whipped up her gun.
Pallin whirled around, his own pistol rising, its barrel aimed right at her. "You are the one who killed the former secretary and the admiral. Now you come for me."
There was no waver in his voice that would betray even a glimmer of fear. He was definitely not a drunken personal assistant, nor as unaware as the admiral had been. "You figured me out, Executor." She replied. "But you haven't got a chance. I have a shield, you do not."
His mandibles twitched, and when he shifted his weight, she saw there was a light blinking inside the car that had definitely not been there a few seconds earlier.
It did not take much to understand why he was so eager to talk. He had triggered his car's distress system while going for his personal weapon. Backup would arrive in a few short minutes. There was nothing to it, she needed to wrap this up and get out of there. "Charming. But it will not help you." She said and squeezed the trigger.
On The Normandy…
Shepard awoke slowly, as if her body had been dragged out of drug-induced deep sleep kicking and screaming. She could not recall if she had a dream at all that night, which meant that she had been sleeping like the dead. She could see something other than space through her cabin's skylight, it meant they had docked on the Citadel.
Shepard stretched out, feeling more than a few things pop and shift, and slowly sat up. The change of orientation caused a pang of pain to shoot through head. Less severe than before, but still there.
Judging by the fact that she had slept completely undisturbed meant their FTL hop had been uneventful, as she made sure it would be. She had even finished her report to Admiral Hackett before heading to bed, and asked EDI to transmit it as soon as they were within buoy range, which meant that by now it was on the admiral's desk. Shepard looked up, "EDI?"
"Yes, Commander?"
"What time is it?" Her internal perception could not be trusted right then, and the Citadel offered no meaningful clues.
"According to the Ship's chronometer, it is zero-three-hundred-fourteen hours Terran Coordinated, and zero-five-hundred-thirty hours by Citadel standard."
Three fourteen in the morning their time, and about two hours later by Citadel time. "Thanks EDI." Shepard mumbled as she swung her legs over the edge. The deck plates felt unusually cold under her bare toes, but that could have been just grogginess. "How long have I been asleep?"
"Twelve hours," EDI replied.
No wonder the medication wore off. "And what's the situation aboard?"
"The Normandy docked six hours ago. Lieutenant Alenko had not set leave rotations, but he did inform the crew that we will be on the Citadel for a few days at least."
Shepard grimaced, "I should have set rotations before I went to sleep." It had slipped her mind. "I need to get that done as soon as possible." She reached down to grab her boots, but winced when the action sent even more pain into her head. Shepard straightened, no boots for the time being. She really ought to take her medication, but before that she needed a shower, food, and maybe some coffee. She would go down to the mess and pirate a sandwich.
Her morning routine was done of autopilot, so it was about half an hour before she took the elevator down to deck three. The mess area was largely deserted this early in the morning. All the doors she could see were closed and locked. The sleeping pods between the kitchen area and the main battery were fully occupied as well. Out of respect for the sleepers Shepard decided to forgo anything fancier than salami slices between bread, and the plate. She could pack away a lazy breakfast in no time flat.
After breakfast she went up to the OD and got right to work. Setting rotations was hardly hard work when one had a system. So it was really taking a look at the list of last rotations and deciding who got theirs first, while giving some consideration toward maintaining a skeleton crew on board the Normandy to monitor her systems. All in all, it took her about an hour to figure everything out. EDI would take care of the rest once she had the list in her metaphorical hands.
Shepard had just relayed the list to EDI when the OD's door slid open. Shepard actually jumped in her seat and whirled around.
Nihlus stepped inside, his mandibles were against his chin, and his brow plates hooding his eyes. "Shepard, sorry if I startled you."
"No it's alright, it happens."
"Alright… then I should say we have a situation. Your imitator made another assassination attempt about two hours after we docked," he announced.
"You're kidding me right?" Shepard replied. The imitator was pushing it far too close. Where was the rush? Did someone honestly expect an hour to be enough time for her? Well, she supposed if she scouted her target and then picked her moment based on what she had to work with, it might be feasible. But really, Cerberus had gotten the math wrong. Then again, could that be the exact point of cutting it so close? Could they want it to look like she had planned things that far ahead, and then went ahead with it at the first opportunity? Shepard hummed. No, it would be best if she stopped that train of thought right then and there. Circle-thinking now would just make her headache worse.
"I would not jest about something like this, but I wish I was. You can see for yourself."
Shepard turned around and with a few strokes of the keys she had the early morning news feed up. The assassination was right at the top of the page, the headline calling it a brazen attack. As she read on Shepard discovered that for once the media were not exaggerating. The Executor had put up a fight, the exchange of gunfire was heard outside the private parking lot. The suspect, identified as a human female, was caught cloaking on a security camera, and then fleeing just before the emergency responders got there.
What jumped at Shepard as highly peculiar was that the report did not actually mention the executor's condition, just that he was taken to an unnamed Presidium hospital. If he had actually been killed, they would have reported it as such, so the omission was telling if one looked at it from the right angle. "She failed. Pallin is still alive."
"I thought you would pick up on that." Nihlus rumbled.
"Interesting." Shepard muttered. The assassin really could not be a professional. A career hired killer would not have been caught fleeing while the target was still alive. They would have made sure that Pallin took his last breath in front of them. It began to look like the only reason she had succeeded with her previous marks was that one had been intoxicated, and the other unaware. Whoever Cerberus were using to frame her was actually a rather poor proxy where it counted. The only thing they had in common was just a vague physical resemblance. The difference in skill and standards where they mattered might as well have been night and day.
Ultimately the scheme hinged on the old question of whether the investigators bought that yarn. Could Cerberus successfully frame her with a faulty proxy who had just botched a job? Either way, the whole thing was beginning to grate on her nerves. No one in their right mind should believe this imitation could be her. Shepard prided herself on what she could do, same as any skilled craftsman would be proud of their work, and so some deep, dark part of her refused to tolerate anyone doing such a poor job of imitating her.
There was a scratch overhead, "Commander. I am sorry to interrupt, but it is pertinent. Four Citadel Security officers have just emerged from the waiting lounge connected to the Normandy's docking cradle." EDI announced.
Shepard looked up sharply, and then caught Nihlus' gaze. He had positively stiffened now, and his mandibles were up and twitching a fraction of a centimeter. Shepard's mind started to race, she knew the only reason why law enforcement would be on their dock. There was no avoiding this, she would have to give account of what she had been doing for the past couple hours. "Not… the best of timing," Shepard muttered. Still, she could work with this. With her head messed up at the moment, she had a concrete alibi for this one.
"I will come with you," Nihlus said.
Shepard nodded, got up from her seat, and moved toward the OD's door and then on toward the airlock just aft of the cockpit. A feeling of foreboding materialized, and every step closer to the airlock only made it worse. The two duty crewmen spared her a glance, and she could only offer them a weak little smile. By the time she reached airlock and stepped inside foreboding had morphed into fear. Some part of her wondered that if they were there just to ask questions, why bring four officers?
The outer door opened and Shepard stepped outside. The horrible feeling instantly intensified when she saw that all four officers were turian, and the two at the back were in armor and their hands lingered near their side-arms. A moment passed, and they must have seen that she was not armed, or armored, so their hands dropped away from the guns.
What more, Shepard recognized the detective leading the little unit. He had been Garrus' source of information on Saleon. That seemed so long ago.
"Spectre Kryik, Commander Shepard, I am Detective Marcelus Bellacus. We met previously."
"Is this show of force really necessary? Are you that scared of Spectres?" Nihlus asked blandly.
Shepard tried not to react, did Nihlus have to be abrasive now? Could he not read the room? She did not like the looks the officers gave her one little bit. She did not like the fact that they had come geared for a fight.
"We are here to carry out our duties, Spectre, nothing more." The detective replied without any reaction to Nihlus' insinuation. Then he turned and Shepard found herself under a metaphorical microscope. "Commander, you are under arrest for the attempted assassination of Executor Pallin."
Shepard's thinking train ground to a halt with all wheels screeching. Nihlus was at her side in an instant, hand on her shoulder. The officers at the back went for their side-arms again. Shepard raised her arm to bar Nihlus from going for anyone's throat. "Nihlus, don't do anything silly, you know full well that this is a false charge, and I have an alibi. Please go get Garrus, and maybe fetch me some headache medication from Doctor Chakwas. I have a feeling I am going to need it."
The detective gave her a look, he took that request as a dig at him, but for once Shepard was not being shady. She just knew it the pain in her head was going to get much worse soon.
Author Notes: The storm clouds have gathered, and the tensions are high. With Shepard's injuries, this chapter ended up a little shift-heavy, but it had to be done. There are also a lot of little notes in this one. And yes, I slightly tweaked the story's title.
General Notes:
Hospital Ships - I envision these ships as heavily shielded but unarmed (their point defenses don't count as weapons). They are designed to aid soldiers in war-time, but also respond to major disasters in peace-time. They are also teaching/research hospitals, where medical students can apply (and have to compete for placement!) for broad experience, especially for those trained in xeno-medicine.
The Spartoi – My thinking is if Okeer could create Grunt, why can't Cerberus do something similar? The Spartoi are basically my version of the ME3 Cerberus troopers. Except in my setting they are not indoctrinated, but closer to something based on my understanding of Fallout 4's third generation synths.
Congenital Analgesia – This is actually a rare real-life condition. It makes a person completely incapable of feeling pain, but pain is actually useful, it tells us that something is wrong in the body. Without the feedback a lot of dangerous things can go unnoticed. For example, a burst appendix may not hurt, but the person would still be bleeding internally.
Chapter Notes:
Florence Nightingale – Florence Nightingale (1820 – 1910) was a British social reformer and nurse. Her work (along with the women she trained) during the Crimean War (1853 – 56) was pioneering for nursing as a profession. Later, The Times (a British daily paper) gave her the nickname "The Lady with the Lamp". That is where I got the idea for the ship's livery.
Broca's & Wernicke's Areas – According to my research Broca's is responsible for speech production, while Wernicke's for comprehension of written and spoken language. Keep in mind that I am not a doctor, nor even med student, if you happen to be one and I am very egregiously wrong, I apologize.