Chapter 42 – Of Monsters and Men

March 29th, 2211, 1901 hours —Anhur, City of New Thebes— Special Facility LV-427, formerly known as Misthaven Maximum-Security Penitentiary

Data Corruption… Automatic Reconstruction Failed…Data Corruption….Profile Reconstruction Required…

(Chief Science Officer Alice Anders. Codename: MORDRED – Project Transcendence)

Alice watched as subject C26 stepped into the interview room.

The revived Cris'paii had undergone several more physical changes since they had successfully brought it back. His flesh showed almost no signs of putrefaction now. He had developed a radiant, blue coloring, similar to some asari but brighter, as if a current of light were running beneath its skin. The metal plates and cabling had eventually receded, though the shortened, metal scythes on its forearms still remained. His legs were double-hinged like a turian or a quarians.

Several anatomical features differentiated the Crisp'aii from the current, existing species living in the Milky Way. One was the presence of a few short, thin tendrils that grew from the Cris'paii's chin and jawline. Alice could only speculate on what function they served, but likely they served as a sort of sensory unit.

The others were a crop of bone on its forehead, similar to a krogans, and a quartet of horns curving up from the top of its head.

The Cris'paii was tall—taller than its original host had been—and well-muscled as well. His features were roughly human-like, with a strong jaw, high cheekbones and black hair. His eyes glowed a bright blue, similar to a quarians.

He pulled out a chair opposite Alice and took a seat. He looked at her expectantly.

Watching him, it took a considerable amount of self-control for Alice not to break down in tears right then and there. He was living proof that all of their sacrifices and all of the lives they had torn apart might stand to actually mean something.

But Alice kept herself composed. Her work wasn't even close to being finished – Not yet.

The scientist put on a big smile. "How are you? How have the sessions been?" Alice asked kindly.

Even after almost two weeks it never ceased to amaze Alice how composed the Cris'paii was for an individual who had been dead for who knew how many millennia. The Cris'paii placed its hands on the table. Its hands were shaped exactly like hers, with opposable thumbs and five fingers.

The Cris'paii spoke in a deep, lyrical rumble. "Useful. My knowledge of Thessian has grown exponentially – enough to make full use of your universal translators. The asari are truly wonderous beings. None of the sentients alive during my lifetime evolved to possess the abilities that they have developed. Truly marvelous."

Alice smiled. The subject's vocabulary had expanded considerably thanks to Cordira's repeated mind-melding. "That is excellent to hear. Now tell me, have more of your memories returned?"

The Cris'paii dipped its head. "Indeed."

Excited, Alice pulled out a data-pad and started a fresh record. "Tell me."

Its eyes gleamed in the half-light of the room. They seemed to glow brighter the longer that Alice stared into them. "I had—have— a name… in past eons I was called 'Achimundé'" he enunciated.

Alice's eyes grew wide. Day-by-day, more and more of the subject's memories were returning to him. Recently he had begun to recall bits and pieces of its past life. It was truly remarkable.

"'Achimundé'? Am I pronouncing that right?" Alice asked.

The Cris'paii nodded. "Yes."

Achimundé suddenly leaned in, and it took every ounce of Alice's self-control to not instinctively recoil.

"Tell me, Alice. Were you able to bring back more of my people?" he asked. "Have the Ainur Melkorä returned to their slumber?"

"Sorry, the what?" Alice asked.

A pained look crossed his face. Achimundé appeared to be struggling to find the right words.

"The Dark Ones… Bright red light and metal and death, descending from the heavens… their shadows enveloping entire cities… Tireless, relentless machine legions and always…always that terrible horn…"

Achimundé then lifted a hand and pointed all five fingers down towards the table.

A chill crept down her spine. "The Reapers…" Alice whispered.

"The… Reapers?" Achimundé echoed. His eyes looked down towards the table, lost in thought. "Reapers…" he repeated, mulling over the word.

Alice swallowed. "Yes, the Reapers. We defeated them twenty-five years ago."

Achimundé's eyes flashed. He looked up and gave her an incredulous look.

"You defeated them?"

"Yes."

The Cris'paii's tentacles curled ever so slightly. "The Reapers have flown for eons. Countless civilizations fell beneath them… How was it that you managed to defeat them?"

The scientist raised a hand. "Achimundé, I know you have many questions, questions that I want to answer. But before I answer them I have a few questions I must ask of you."

Achimundé's face twitched ever slightly and his eyes burned hungrily for a brief moment, but the look passed quickly.

"Ask your questions."

Alice nodded. "Thank you. Achimundé … how is it that you're here before us today? How is it that we were able to bring you back to life? You were presumably harvested and lost millions of years ago and yet here you sit, with most of your memories intact."

Achimundé's brow furrowed in confusion as he tried to decipher what Alice was asking of him. Eventually, a look of understanding passed over his face.

"The Index…" he finally said.

"The Index?" Alice repeated.

"The Index," Achimundé nodded. "Part of my people's final defense against the Ainur Melkorä – the Reapers as you call them. An artificial gene, created by we Gene Architects, inserted into every one of my people which allowed for each of us to be reborn in a new vessel."

Excitement bubbled inside Alice. This was it. This was the vital missing piece of the puzzle. The key to everything they had worked so hard to accomplish. With this piece, their ultimate goal had the potential to be more than a just dream. It could become reality. She could see her family again… Tom would have his wife back… they could bring back everyone they had lost.

She dug her fingers into her palms. Alice could hardly control the excitement in her voice. "What do you mean 'Reborn'?"

Achimundé raised a hand and gestured at Alice. "The Index creates a complete blueprint of each of us. It creates a record. Every single mutation, every change that every single one of your cells has ever underwent, every molecule of DNA you've ever produced—every chemical and electrical signal that has passed through your brain since the moment you were born to the moment of your death. From the color of your eyes and hair down to every last neuron in your brain, the Index gene mapped all of it. With it, we could completely recreate an individual. We could even replicate their memories. The Index gene… it created a blueprint of an individual's soul."

The Cris'paii spoke almost reverently of the Index, as if it were some divine phenomenon. Alice was completely enraptured by what she was hearing. None of it seemed scientifically possible. How much more advanced had the Cris'paii been?

"Not only did it create that blueprint, it also coded for the rebirth or the reconstruction of the individual. Given time and a new vessel, the Index would eventually allow the Cris'paii to be reborn using the blueprint it had created," Achimundé continued.

Alice tried again to tamper down her excitement. Her hypothesis had been correct. She had been correct. The Originator DNA they had found… it was Cris'paii DNA. The Index was what had allowed the Cris'paii DNA to continue replicating and cause such drastic physiological changes in their hosts. Something must have happened over time and the rebirthing process must have been tainted – perhaps by the Reaper DNA interspersed with the Cris'paii DNA. The flawed process must have resulted in the creation of these creatures.

There was so much to unpack. "You also mentioned 'Gene Architect?'" Alice said.

"Gene Architect," repeated Achimundé. "A large, societal caste within my people to which I belonged to. It was a role that many of us belonged to while we still breathed. The Gene Architects were dedicated to unravelling the mystery of our bodies."

Achimundé reached across the table and gently grabbed her hands in a gesture that Alice was surprised he even understood the meaning behind. Perhaps he had picked it up during one of Cordira's mind-meld sessions.

"Now please, Alice," Achimundé pleaded. "Tell me, where are the others of my species?"

Alice silently pondered her next move. Should she tell Achimundé everything? Should she only tell him what he needed to know? How would he react to the news that his people had been converted to mindless killing machines?

She decided that she had to tell Achimundé everything. The only way that they were both going to get what they wanted was if they trusted and worked with one another, and that was not going to happen if Alice decided to start keeping secrets. She had to tell him.

And so she did. She told him about her discovery of their DNA in the Reaper cores. She told him about their terrible experiments and the horrific creatures they had produced. She told them what they had hoped to achieve.

Above all, she apologized to Achimundé. She apologized for what she'd made of his people. She told him about her family, how the galaxy had continued to suffer despite winning the Reaper War.

Achimundé listened quietly as Alice told her story. The Cris'paii's face was an absolute mask, except for a rare twitch here and there. If he felt any rage or disgust or horror at Alice's actions, Alice could not tell.

Finally he spoke. "When my people were harvested, the Index within each of us must have somehow been corrupted by the Reapers. Something must have tainted the rebirth process. However, I believe it is reversible. How is it that you've managed to bring me back though?"

Alice pursed her lips. "Twenty-five years ago, right before the Reaper War started, one of us died," she began to explain.

"This person… there were a group of us that realized that she would be instrumental in saving us from the Reapers. We knew that without her, the galaxy would have no chance of surviving what lay ahead."

Alice still remembered that fateful day… that day she had received a mysterious phone-call from someone who had called himself "The Illusive Man". He had called her and asked her if she had heard what had happened to Shepard. He then asked her if she had believed her. Finally, he asked her if she wanted to help save this galaxy. Alice had agreed.

"We had to bring this person back. This group… Cerberus… we created something we called the Cerberus revival strain. It was a synthetic compound that we developed to essentially grow an individual. It is similar to your Index, but much, much more primitive. With it, we could successfully clone an individual, though we were unable to replicate their memories, personalities, and thoughts like you could."

Alice cast her mind more than twenty-five years back. Dozens and dozens of half-formed Shepard Clones… all of them grown with the Cerberus revival strain and a bit of Shepard's DNA to provide spare organs and limbs for the real Shepard. It had violated every ethical obligation Alice knew. The things she'd done and seen as part of the Lazarus Project had eventually been the impetus for her defection from the group during the War – that and the fact that the Illusive Man had begun engaging in a series of brutal and even more unethical decisions.

"We used it to revive this individual, and because their brain was still intact we managed to bring them back with everything that made that individual who they were. Because of what we accomplished… when the Reapers came, we had a chance..."

But during the War — after studying the Reaper cores and discovering the active DNA within, Alice began to realize the full extent of what the Cerberus revival strain was potentially capable of. It could be used to create genetic clones of an individual provided that it had donor DNA with which to work with. She also realized that somehow, DNA from one of the harvested species had shown signs of propagating.

"Achimundé … I am trying to bring back everyone the Reapers harvested. But I can't do so without your help. The Index is the key. With it and with the Cerberus revival strain, I think we can possibly bring back everyone the Reapers took from us, the same way we were able to bring you back."

Achimundé twitched. "How were you able to defeat the Reapers?" he asked once more.

"I'm sorry?"

"How… How did you defeat them?"

His insistence was a bit curious. Alice didn't know what to make of it. She supposed that if she had been the last surviving member of her species and had learned that the another species had destroyed the one that had wiped out hers, she might perhaps be equally curious.

"We discovered the blueprint for a machine in an ancient archive on one of our planets," Alice explained, "A blueprint pieced together by countless species from past cycles and left to us directly by the dominant species from the cycle prior to ours."

Achimundé's eyes gleamed. "What did it look like? Show me."

A strange request, Alice thought, but in any event she decided to humor the Cris'paii and to get in his good graces. She accessed her data-pad and brought up a picture of the Crucible, then handed it to Achimundé.

"This is the Crucible. It is a device capable of emitting a massive amount of energy throughout the galaxy using the mass relays. We used it to deactivate the Reapers in the last war."

Achimundé's eyes opened even wider. He gazed at the Crucible almost with a sort of longing… or hunger. Alice got the sense that something was bothering him – something that he wasn't telling her.

"Achimundé, is something wrong?" Alice asked.

Achimundé licked his lips, then looked up. "No…" he said huskily. "Nothing at all."

"So Achimundé, will you help me? I believe that together, we can combine the Index and the Cerberus revival strain and bring back both your people and mine. What do you say?"

Achimundé sat in silence for a few moments. While he did so he continued to stare at the picture of the Crucible. He seemed to be deep in thought.

"We will need the Index of the Supreme Architect," he finally replied.

"Who is the Supreme Architect? Where is their Index?" Alice quickly asked.

Achimundé set down the datapad. "During the apex of our war with the Ainur Melkorä, we created copies of the Index of select individuals. High-ranking caste members… war-leaders… these were individuals we considered vital to the war effort. We stored them for safe-keeping, ready to be reborn should we have need of them."

"Where?"

"The home of my people. Mürabann."

March 29th, 2211, 2008 hours —Alexandria Spaceport

Data Corruption… Automatic Reconstruction Failed…Data Corruption….Profile Reconstruction Required…

(Spectre Operative – 10082181-Elektra)

Sixteen Minutes after the Arrival of the Turian Fleet

The Primarch took the lead, marching across the tarmac towards Percival. Cade walked beside him. Black Widow in hand. The turian Spectre exchanged quiet words with the Primarch that Elektra couldn't overhear, but she could see from Cade's body language that the younger turian was feeling a bit uneasy.

Garrus Vakarian, one of Commander Shepard's closest friends and one of the most respected figures in the galaxy. As a member of the crew of the Normandy, Garrus had fought beside Shepard every step of the way throughout the Reaper War, from Saren all the way to Earth and that final battle. As Archangel, he had been the scourge of Omega. An absolute legend.

Elektra, Revak and Malan followed closely behind the duo. The unit of Blackwatch soldiers formed a protective ring around the entire group which seemed to put both the Ghar'aran brothers on edge.

The battle looked to have mostly ended now. The last of the creatures that had arrived from the city had been destroyed and a team of quarian and turian engineers were installing hardlight barricades to cover the breach created by the trojan ship.

Percival noticed the group approaching first. The Spectre jumped from the wall down onto the tarmac. Gore and claw damage covered his armor, and he looked like he had used up every last heatsink and grenade he'd had on him.

Murgen followed him, flanked by two of his Jaegers. Like Percival, he didn't have a single heatsink left. The older human marine had a gash across his forehead which was dripping blood down the side of his face, but otherwise looked in good shape.

Cade rushed forward and pulled Percival into a quick hug before stepping off to the side. Garrus gave the younger turian an amused look. An amused look for sure, but also an understanding one.

"Primarch Vakarian, you arrived just in the nick of time," Percival greeted enthusiastically. He extended a gauntlet covered in all sorts of interesting biological matter towards the turian Primarch.

Garrus took it without hesitation. "We'd have been here sooner, but I wanted to pull together a quarian brigade or two and Cade had to stop for a bathroom break. I'm glad we made it in time."

Percival nodded. "We'd have been wiped out if it wasn't for you. I see you already met Spectre Operative Elektra and the commanding officers of the Blue Suns detachment. This is captain Elias Murgen, he is the commanding officer of our Jaegers."

Murgen gave the Primarch a traditional turian salute. "An honor sir," greeted the veteran marine.

Garrus returned the salute. "The honor is mine. Your name is well known even among turians. Spirits, you wrote the book on zero-G boarding. We train the Blackwatch using the maneuvers that you helped developed, captain."

Murgen dipped his head in thanks. "You give me too much credit. Give her my regards the next time you see her," he said.

Garrus gave Murgen an amused look. "Will do," he replied.

The Primarch turned back to Percival and crossed his arms. "So Spectre, Cade gave me the… hmmm… 'rundown' as you humans like to call it and I have your doctor's notes. Anything else you'd like to update me on?"

Percival cleared his throat and brushed a bit of an entrail off of his pauldron. "One of our fellow Spectres has gone missing while out locating the source of a series of encrypted transmissions. He disappeared near the location where we suspect that the saboteurs might have a base."

The Spectre turned on his omni-tool and pulled up a map of New Thebes. Two areas were highlighted on the map.

"Here's the area where we suspect the saboteurs are hiding," he said, pointing at the first location. He then pointed at the second. "There's the downed freighter where we suspect lies a Reaper Core that the saboteurs used to trigger the outbreak here on Anhur. We need to neutralize it to prevent it from being retrieved and used elsewhere."

Garrus peered at the map and tapped a talon against a vambrace. "Yes, we've got your neutron bomb up in one of the dreadnoughts. Low-yield, five-hundred meter kill radius. Shouldn't damage too much of the city. Personally I'd have preferred to have fired a thanix round at it, but Adrien would never let me hear the end of it. You said you've been pulling survivors out of Alexandria right? Anyone from New Thebes?"

"A few here and there… but mostly from Alexandria. We haven't exactly had a chance to do a headcount of the survivors in New Thebes, sir."

"So there could be anywhere between ten and a couple million of those things running around in New Thebes…" Garrus mused. "Sure you don't want a round from my ship instead? Maybe a nuke?"

Percival frowned. "With all due respect sir, we cannot simply assume there aren't any survivors and nuke—"

Garrus raised a hand. "Spectre, I'm just joking. You're absolutely right, our priority is the safety and evacuation of the survivors. We're here to save as many as we can. I've been communicating with the quarian Ambassador. I've already worked with her to convince the Quarian and Geth Syndicate to send a small fleet and I've got another fleet incoming. With them, we should have enough troops to quarantine both cities and run effective rescue operations. I have envoys going out to the Terminus Systems' warlords already, to explain to them that this isn't an aggressive occupation."

"Thank you, sir," Percival sighed in relief. "Can I ask how much you've told the ambassador?"

Garrus' face darkened and his blue eyes narrowed. "Tali'Zorah and I are old friends. I told her everything and I trust her completely. What happened on the Hippocrates and here on Anhur isn't common knowledge yet, but it's only a matter of time. The asari and the salarians have started to ask questions and most certainly have already launched investigations in the wake of their defecting ships."

The Primarch gave a light grunt. "When, not if, word gets out of what's happening, there will be mass panic. The best thing we can do now is try to stop whatever it is these crazies are trying to accomplish. Cut off the head of the snake and the body will die. I have enough ships to destroy the Ninth and the defecting asari and salarian ships if I have to, but I'd rather not. Especially if in doing so I might be responsible for starting another intergalactic war. I've had enough of those in my lifetime."

"Yes sir," agreed Percival. "You've read our report on this 'transcendence' they're trying to achieve?"

"Yes. Wasn't exactly a long one. Stupid thing to call it… Read the dossiers on the ring-leaders too. Hard to believe Tyrannus' kid would be a part of something like this."

"We haven't had much luck in uncovering more on what they're planning," apologized Percival. "That's why my colleague went out there, to try to find out more information."

Garrus nodded. "Well, luckily for you this isn't my first time dealing with a bunch of insane extremists who were spirits-bent on galactic destruction."

Garrus watched as the survivors began to take triage of the injured. Though the battle had ended, the spaceport seemed louder than ever with all the shouts and cries of pain from the wounded and the orders and reports shared between the first responders. Many wounded were missing limbs or were suffering from extreme lacerations.

The turian shook his head. "Spirits… I haven't seen anything this bad in over twenty-five years…"

Cade suddenly stepped up and saluted the Primarch. "Sir, permission to go out and investigate Spectre Cloud's last known location?"

Elektra hid a small smile. She'd never seen Cade act so professionally before. So much like an actual turian.

Garrus raised an eyeplate. "You don't need my permission, Spectre. Go, go find your friend. Take lieutenant Vakarian with you and keep me updated. See if you can recover any intel as well."

A look of relief crossed Cade's face. The younger turian gave Percival a nod and then headed towards another squad of turian Havoc troopers.

Garrus then turned his attention to the Ghar'arans, who up until then had been waiting quietly beside Elektra.

"Well well well, if it isn't the butchers of Bahak. You know, there's a nice bounty out on each of you still. A lot of people still remember the loved ones they lost during the Slaver wars."

Revak bristled. The scarred batarian took a step towards the Primarch. Instantly, all twelve of the Blackwatch trained their rifles on the batarian.

Anger gleamed in Revak's remaining two good eyes. "And you're still the same loose-lipped scale-rot you've always been, Vakarian. Come, leave your guards at home and let's see if you're anything more than hot air and the poor man's Commander Shepard," he growled.

Garrus grinned. He spread his arms wide. "Anytime Revak. Just remember, every time I show up somewhere the mortality rate for any Blue Suns in the general vicinity seems to mysteriously skyrocket. Operative Percival, you're the one who melted half his face off right? Don't lose any sleep over it you probably increased his chances with the ladies. I would know."

Malan grabbed his brother by the arm. Percival gave the Primarch an awkward look but chose to remain silent.

Elektra resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Males were the same regardless of the species. Primarch Vakarian was even worse than his predecessor when it came to being a politician.

She stepped forward. "Primarch with all due respect, the Ghar'arans and the Blue Suns have been instrumental in our evacuation of the city. They've also personally saved my life. Respectfully, maybe we should try to remember who the real enemy is."

Percival gave her a look of gratitude. Malan nodded as well. "Primarch, forgive my brother. We have lost a lot of friends in the last few weeks."

Surprisingly, Garrus relented. The Primarch raised a hand and his guards lowered their rifles.

"Never thought I'd find myself feeling sorry for a bunch of slavers, spirits…." Garrus grunted. He raised a talon and pointed it at Revak once more.

"Just remember, the enemy of my enemy is probably someone I still wouldn't have a problem shooting."

Revak was about to growl again, but stopped when his brother jerked on his arm one final time.

Garrus lead his Blackwatch, Percival and Murgen away. Elektra wasn't very well-versed about what had happened in the Slaver wars and on Bahak, having only been a teenager at the time it had happened. She knew Percival had fought in it, as had the Ghar'arans. Clearly, whatever had happened had left some pretty bad blood lying about.

"Urdnot Garm!" Garrus suddenly called out from somewhere further down the tarmac. "If it isn't my third-favourite krogan in the galaxy! What in the spirits are you doing here, you old bastard? How's Wrex?"

Garm was up ahead, wiping an assortment of guts off of his crimson armor. Rayla was standing around looking bored, while Galen was standing at attention in a full salute towards the approaching Primarch.

"Fuck off, Vakarian," Garm grumbled. The krogan whipped what looked like half a human jaw in the Primarch's direction. Garrus merely chuckled.

Elektra watched the Primarch go. She had never met him in person before – had only heard and read the stories. He wasn't quite how she had imagined him.

She guess she had expected someone who had stood face-to-face against Saren Arterius, half the warlords in the Terminus Systems and the Reapers to be a bit more… noble. Dignified. More like Percival, she supposed.

Beside her, Revak and Malan were having a heated conversation with one another in Khar'shani. The older brother suddenly stopped talking, whirled and stomped off across the tarmac back towards the spaceport. Malan stared at the ground as Revak left, looking utterly deflated.

Elektra wandered over, curious. She hadn't really had the chance to speak to either of the Ghar'arans prior to this. No one really spoke to them aside from their fellow mercenaries. Everyone from the Systems Alliance knew who they were and what they had done and everyone considered them necessary evils to be tolerated.

"Worried the Primarch will put you two on trial?" Elektra teased.

Malan immediately bristled. Elektra raised both arms.

"I'm just kidding. Say, I never thanked you for saving my life."

The batarian dismissively waved a hand. "It was nothing, Drak'Takai."

Elektra studied the batarian. His armor was quite beautiful. Ornate and decorated with beautiful, black batarian script, Elektra thought it ought to belong on a mannequin in a museum than a batarian in a warzone.

"So… what's the deal with your brother. I'm not a gifted history student, but I have a feeling that you and him aren't particularly well-liked in Council space."

Malan looked at her, then looked back down onto the ground.

Elektra waited patiently for the batarian to speak. She stood and watched the turian forces bustling around the tarmac, taking care of the wounded and clearing up rubble. Sporadic gunfire could be heard in the distance.

She marveled at the quarians and their elegant combat suits. There were a few who had chosen to go helmetless, but many still wore the full-faced helmets their ancestors had worn for generations before them. In the last twenty-five years, the Geth had made considerable progress in restoring the quarian immune system. Almost a whole generation of quarians now no longer needed to wear full suits everywhere they went.

After a long while, finally Malan spoke.

"What do you know of the Slaver wars, Drak'Takai?" Malan began.

Elektra shrugged and kicked at a dismembered limb with her boot. "Not much," she said honestly.

The batarian turned to face her. "Twenty-five years ago, the Reaper War started. It started in the Vular system. They crippled our communications network in mere seconds. A day later, Reaper capital ships arrived over Khar'shan. The Reaper War began on the Batarian Hegemony's doorstep."

Malan turned his gaze up to the night sky, as if he could see again the Reaper ships bearing down upon him.

"We bore the brunt of the assault. Whole cities were destroyed in hours. Millions of my people were harvested and turned into their footsoldiers."

"Millions more became refugees, fleeing to Council space. Though shattered and broken, the Hegemony refused to be beaten. Surviving batarian forces – myself and my brother included – heeded Shepard's call and fought shoulder-to-shoulder with the other Council species against the Reapers. We were there on Earth during that final battle. I cannot tell you how many more batarians lost their lives that day, but I can tell you that the sight of the Crucible activating was the most beautiful thing that I had ever seen or I would ever see. I remember thinking to myself that our blood had been well-spent and that our sacrifices had actually meant something."

He looked back down and gave a weak, hopeless chuckle.

"And yet in the aftermath of the War, it seemed as if the galaxy had forgotten that the batarians had stood alongside them – had forgotten that we had paid more than our fair share for victory."

"The other species… within weeks, turian ships could be seen over human planets. Krogan labor on Thessia… Quarian engineers on Palaven…and yet on Khar'shan… nothing but the ghosts of the dead. No one came to help us rebuild. When we sent envoys to the Citadel, we were told that there was no one to spare – that they had to take care of themselves first."

Elektra listened quietly as the batarian spoke. She knew that the batarians didn't have the best galactic reputation, but she couldn't say she was completely surprised at the Council's unwillingness to send even a single ship to help the batarians rebuild. As an orphan she had soon learned that any Council-sanctioned restoration efforts were a half-assed affair. The turians had even had a civil war over where to focus their rebuilding efforts and resources.

She had also known that even before the war, batarians had hardly been viewed in a flattering light and some of that still rang true today. Even though they were now treated much more equally on some planets, on many planets they were still viewed as thugs – second-class citizens of the galaxy. Elektra supposed that some prejudices ran deep.

Malan continued on. "What survived of my people… in their desperation, many of them reverted to the old ways in an attempt to restore the Batarian empire. We stole refugees from their beds and forced them to work in our mines and in our factories…"

The batarian shut his eyes, lost in his own memories. His fists were clenched tight and Elektra could see them shake ever so slightly. When he opened them again, they were clouded with half-tears.

"It… what we did was wrong, but Drak'Takai…my people were desperate. So very desperate. We lost tens of thousands to starvation and many of us lived in utter poverty following the war. We had little intact infrastructure and almost no manufacturing capabilities. We knew of no other way to rebuild our home."

Elektra shook her head. "I didn't realize that things had gotten that bad, but still… enslaving people? That was hardly something that would have painted the batarians in a sympathetic light."

Malan sighed. "Like I said, what we did was wrong, but my people were desperate. Logic, compassion, sympathy for our fellow species… they are the first casualties to be had when confronted with the looming death and destruction of your species and your way of life. Still, I know that what we did was wrong… I will never deny that."

"Eventually we went to war with the Systems Alliance," the batarian continued. "Years passed and my people were pushed back to our last stronghold on the planet of Bahak. The Alliance came down in force. Much blood was spilled on those sands. Many lives were lost."

Elektra was somewhat familiar with the battle of Bahak. She had known that Percival had fought in it, as had some of the Jaegers. It had been the largest ground engagement that the Systems Alliance had fought in since the Reaper Wars. The Systems Alliance had been successful in liberating a majority of the slaves there, though they had sustained heavy casualties in doing so.

"My brother and I… we were defending one of our slave facilities," Malan further explained. "The slave masters in charge there had… decided a docile slave force was the most effective one. I do not offer this as an excuse… but against our protests they had lobotomized the slaves there."

Bile rose in the back of Elektra's throat. As a Spectre she had investigated and tackled her fair share of alien traffickers. She'd seen all the different methods that these horrible monsters used to keep their victims in line – bomb collars, physical mutiliation, etc. It was unjustifiable, and she couldn't help but look at Malan with more than a bit of disgust.

But a part of her made her continue to listen, though Elektra didn't know exactly what part that was. So she let Malan continue his story.

"When the Systems Alliance attacked our facility we… there was an accident…"

At that point Malan screwed his eyes shut again. His body shook now, as if the act of remembering was causing him physical pain.

"We – I – never intended for those slaves to die… A fire erupted in the facility, my brother was in danger and I didn't know what to do. I chose to save him over them."

The batarian mercenary looked up into the night sky. "I can remember every moment of that day... When I close my eyes I can still see everything so vividly… the color-streaked sky, the sand, their hands reaching out to me and the look in their eyes as they did so…"

"But history is written by the victors. Officially, my brother and I started the fire in a scorched-earth tactic against the Systems Alliance. Since then, we've been the Butchers of Bahak. Doomed to a sort of twisted half-life. We cannot step foot in Council territory without being hunted. In the Terminus Systems, bounty hunters dog our every step. The only individuals who will consort with us are unsavory characters and other villains. If it weren't for the loyalty of our company, we'd have been killed long ago."

Malan looked in the direction Revak had gone off towards.

"My brother… I believe he seeks a sort of redemption. That is why he begged the Council to be allowed on this mission. Do you not think it strange that a mercenary group would have been chosen to go on a mission such as this? One where secrecy is paramount and death seemingly a certainty? My brother begged for this opportunity, swore many promises, and only very narrowly managed to successfully pledge our company to the Council"

The batarian shook his head and smiled. "You should have seen his face when he told me that the Council had accepted his proposal. For the first time in a decade, he seemed almost happy…"

But the smile was short-lived. "Though my brother would die for me, deep down I know that he resents me for causing the deaths of those slaves," Malan said. "Our prior service with the Hegemony and our lineage may have been the spark to our infamy, but what happened on Bahak sealed our fate forever. No one remembers the name of the ones who lobotomized the slaves or the names of those who ran the other facilities, but they will remember ours because of what happened. Because I left those slaves behind to die in those flames, I am the reason our family name will forever be a stain on galactic history."

The two stood in silence for a while. Malan's story was making Elektra feel a lot of things in that moment. Pity for the plight of the batarians following the war, revulsion and horror at the things they had done – even a bit of sympathy for the two batarian brothers. Should she be feeling sympathy? They had done terrible, terrible things.

"Why are you telling me all of this?" Elektra said.

The Spectre crossed her arms over her chest. "Look… if you are looking for some sort of understanding or even forgiveness from us over what you two and the other batarians did, I'm not sure I can give you that. I am not sure anyone can give you that. I am sorry Malan, truly."

Malan gave a low chuckle. He turned to Elektra. His four eyes glistened with tears that looked like they had no business staining the face of an individual such as Malan Ghar'aran. In his bloody, decorated armor and with a M-451 Firestorm on his back, the batarian looked like an utterly hard bastard incapable of feeling anything but rage and pleasure at the thought of causing wanton destruction.

And yet here he was, with his soul barred to Elektra. An individual that he had hardly ever spoken to before today. Perhaps the batarian had longed for someone to talk to – someone who wasn't his brother or a fellow mercenary. Someone who would listen to him without giving harsh, unwavering judgment. Such a person was likely difficult to find given his reputation. Though Malan had committed horrible crimes, Elektra could not honestly say that he was evil. Perhaps he could have been lying to her about all of it in an attempt to elicit sympathy, but something told Elektra that Malan had been speaking from his heart.

"Drak'Takai, both my brother and I know that there is nothing we can do that would ever truly erase our sins. To even try to erase them is to dishonor the memories of those whose deaths we caused. That is the true nature of things. Once you have done evil that evil is let loose upon the galaxy, and there is nothing you can do to truly undo it."

"I am not asking for your forgiveness, or anyone else's for that matter. I know that no matter how contrite we may feel, or however we may try to atone, nothing will ever erase what we have done. Forgiveness is not something anyone is entitled to. Some wounds never heal, and our egos and souls are not entitled to any sort of respite from the guilt of our crimes regardless of what we may have done to atone or how much we might think we deserve to be forgiven. You can save a hundred people, but kill one person and you are still a murderer…"

The batarian gave a slow, sad shake of his head, but when he spoke again his voice sounded less broken and more determined.

"But that disentitlement to forgiveness… I do not believe it should stop us from trying to do some good. All we can do – all that my brother and I want – is to perhaps do some good in this galaxy. Strive to do more good than bad. That is perhaps all that anyone can do, and in doing so we may find redemption. It is what we are trying to do," he said firmly.

Malan tilted his head towards her. "Thank you for listening to this old batarian, Drak'Takai. Not many are willing to do so, not that I blame them."

Elektra returned the batarian head-tilt. The batarian's words resonated with her. She too had also done some terrible things to the people she had cared about, and Elektra supposed that if it were her, she would have wanted someone to talk to about them. Someone to listen to her side of things no matter how in the wrong she might have been.

"It's not my place to punish you for what you've done," Elektra replied. "I hope that you find some sort of peace, truly. And please…. Call me Elektra."

"Elektra…" Malan rumbled. "Thank you, Elektra."

March 29th, 2211, 1859 hours — New Thebes – Rough Location of Unknown Transmissions

Data Corruption… Automatic Reconstruction Failed…Data Corruption….Profile Reconstruction Required…

(Spectre Operative 04272182-Cloud)

Moments before the attack on Alexandra Spaceport

It was a surprisingly nice evening out. The tall, glass buildings of New Thebes shone as if they were made of diamonds beneath the light of the retreating sun. Prior to the outbreak, it would have been a beautiful place to visit. It reminded me of Ilium.

A jolt knocked me out of my thoughts. The light-armored vehicle my squad was travelling in suddenly jumped into the air briefly before landing back down.

"Sorry boss, I think I hit a curb," the Jaeger in the driver seat apologized. "Not used to driving non-hovercraft."

I waved a hand. "It's fine. Renji, take the next left. Hao, what's the map say?"

We were currently performing recon in the vicinity of the transmissions we had picked up. Our techs hadn't been able to triangulate the exact location they had originated from, which was why I had taken a squad out into the city to try to see if anything stood out or if there were any signs that a location might be occupied.

The other Jaeger in the front seat studied her open omni-tool. "South of us there's nothing but a few more private corporate buildings, a hospital, an industrial complex, a shopping mall or two… wait… and even a prison."

A third Jaeger was manning the turret behind me. "Why the hell would they have a prison in the middle of a goddamn city?" he called out.

"Beats me, Parker." Hao replied. "It was probably there first, and then the city grew around it."

"Boss? Where am I going then?"

The hospital was a good first pick. It was defensible and would likely have some of the resources the saboteurs would need to continue with their experiments.

"Drop us off four blocks from the hospital. We'll walk the rest of the way," I ordered.

It was bad enough that we had to take a vehicle given how infested the city was, but showing up on the front porch a potential saboteur base was probably even worse.

"Roger that boss." The Jaeger then turned the car down a wide avenue towards the hospital.

A column of flame followed by a loud boom suddenly appeared on the rearview mirror as the tail of the vehicle was lifted in the air.

The vehicle came down hard but we managed to land on all four wheels. My teeth rattled from the impact.

"Minefield!" I immediately screamed. "Renji, get us out of here!"

"Parker! You okay?!" Hao shouted.

"Yeah I'm good!"

The Jaeger at the wheel floored it. We began to pick up speed.

I braced my forearm against the back of Renji's seat and stared out the windshield at the hospital ahead. Another mine exploded beside the vehicle, sending a plume of flame up into the air. I had to think of something quick, or else we'd eventually run out of luck.

But suddenly, an all-too-familiar dull throbbing pain came to life at the base of my skull and with it, that same, faint whispering.

No, not again. Not now.

I heard a third go off but I didn't see any plume of flame. Instead, my head slammed into the roof of the car and I saw the sky appear outside the windshield, followed by a sudden feeling of weightlessness.

Then darkness.

March 29th, 2211, 1908 hours — New Thebes – Rough Location of Unknown Transmissions

Data Corruption… Automatic Reconstruction Failed…Data Corruption….Profile Reconstruction Required…

(Spectre Operative 04272182-Cloud)

A few minutes later

When I opened my eyes again, my vision was blurred. I could see nothing but dark shapes and faint, red light. My head felt as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to it and I cursed the fact that I had not been wearing a helmet.

I groaned and blinked a few more times. The red lights slowly came into focus, revealing themselves to be dying embers of flame that littered the ground outside our ruined vehicle.

I realized then that I was upside down. The vehicle was an utter wreck of broken polysteel and wires. It was still hissing and crackling from the damage, so I couldn't have been out long.

"Renji…Hao…Parker?" I groaned.

I brought my hand to the emergency seatbelt release and pulled the clasp. I tumbled to the ground with my neck at an awkward angle and let out a cry of pain. My ass hit the ceiling – now floor – of the car.

I let out a series of coughs, raised my arm to my face and turned on my omni-tool. I ran a bio-scan using my suit's built-in diagnostic software.

The report said that I had three fractured ribs, internal bleeding, several contusions and a concussion. Thankfully, no other broken bones and my wounded shoulder seemed to be in no worse shape than it had already been in.

On my back, I turned my head left to look towards the rear of the vehicle. I let out a curse at what I saw. Parker was definitely gone.

I turned my head the other way. "Hao, Renji, you guys still with me?" I called out weakly.

Both Hao and Renji were still strapped into their seats, hanging upside down. I coughed a few more times before lifting my arm and scanning them with my omni-tool.

Both Jaegers were KIA.

The sound of footsteps outside caught my attention and I immediately reached for a weapon. My Predator pistol was nowhere to be found and my Snakebite was now a mangled mess on the floor beside me. I couldn't see any of the weapons that the Jaegers had been carrying.

I rolled onto my stomach with a groan and pulled out one of the two turian combat knives I had sheathed on my lower back. Stifling cries of pain, I began to slowly pull myself out of the ruined vehicle.

Once I was outside I pulled myself shakily to my feet, using the remains of the vehicle as balance.

I looked around. The sun shouldn't have set yet but the entire avenue looked to be enveloped in a sort of grey, ashy fog. It was like the air around it had been replaced with an oily shadow. It was eerily quiet except for the smoldering vehicle behind me. No wind, no birds, nothing. What was going on?

Suddenly, a whisper. "Tar'elessar"

I turned to look ahead of me. There stood the girl – the star-child. The one I'd been seeing now for months.

She raised a hand and beckoned me forward. "Come," she whispered.

I found myself taking a shaky step towards her, and then another, and another. My body felt as if it were acting outside of my control.

The star-child giggled, turned, then began to run down the street. She then quickly disappeared down a side-alley.

I moved to follow her, trudging through the oily air. I couldn't see the sun beyond the fog hanging around me, and the pain in my body had mysteriously disappeared.

I reached the alley just to see her turn another corner. Though my mind was aware of the fact that I was still in hostile territory, my body moved as if it had a mind of its own. It pursued her, oblivious to the possible dangers around me.

I wanted to shout. I wanted to ask her where she was taking me, but I found that I could not speak. All I could do was follow.

Around and around she ran and all the while I followed her, close but never quite able to catch up. She led me through the maze of buildings… always a few steps ahead… always just out of reach. I couldn't reach her, nor was I able to outrun the ashen shadow that seemed to hang over the air.

The buildings around me would shift. Sometimes they would look like New Thebes, other times they would look like the metal city from my dreams with its broken, white spires. What was happening?

I turned one final corner and came upon an empty street. At the end of the street stood the star-child.

The girl stood in front of a large gate, beaming at me. Behind it loomed a squat, rectangular building.

I gave a sigh of relief and began to run to towards her. Her bright, silver eyes gleamed and she gave me a small wave.

I was just a few steps away now. She stretched a hand out towards me.

I stretched out my hand towards hers. Our fingers touched.

There was a flash. The next thing I saw was my hand wrapped around one of the gate's metal bars. Where did she go?

I looked around, confused. The fog had lifted, the shadows gone, and the air around me was back to normal. The sun was nowhere to be seen, probably on the verge of setting, and the sky was a vivid orange-red.

This episode had been much more vivid than the one I had prior. I shook my head to clear away the last remnants of my hallucination. My head had begun to ache again, probably from the concussion.

A plaque affixed to the gate caught my eye. I looked up to read it.

"Misthaven…" I whispered.