3: The Operative

This put any assignment in the Marines to shame. Sleek uniform, state-of-the-art technology, comfortable air-conditioned office, health insurance; for the past several months, the former Staff Sergeant Lyssa Raine had been enjoying a well-paid and far more enjoyable role as the Security Operations Chief of the Romanov Plains Research Facility, listed in official Cerberus records as Facility 97-A. The former name came from the region of the world the installation was situated within, that of rolling green fields and woodland that remained mostly unsettled. The place had originally been mapped by a fellow named Romanov, although it was unsurprisingly called something different by the batarian population. That was the thing about Anhur; there were always two different kinds of maps for the world's chartered regions, with two different names for every location and landmark. Even after the end of the rebellions, the trend continued and the old divides between the different local populations remained.

Lyssa was a woman of thirty, with dark blonde hair that was tied into a neat and tidy bun, hazel eyes that were set within a narrow, but elegantly defined face and an overall slightly tanned, if lightly freckled complexion. Her uniform was a sleek black and yellow affair complete with armour padding and kinetic barriers; it proved to be far more comfortable than any of the Alliance-issued armour she had been saddled with during her days as a Marine. Her office, tucked away in the facility's main administration complex, also proved to be more comfortable than her days in the Marines crawling through mud and trudging through swamps on alien backwaters. The day she had met that Cerberus recruiter had to have been the greatest day of her life, and if nothing else made this clear then her ever-increasing bank balance certainly did.

And yet, despite the many perks, despite the luxuries that a mostly deskbound role brought her way, she found herself feeling decidedly bored. Despite the dangers this particular planet had on offer, she still found that most of her days were spent here within the facility grounds, sometimes on patrol and occasionally having to deal with some dispute between staff or a potential intruder. The latter situation had rarely happened, and on the few occasions it had the automated security systems usually put a stop to any potential intruder. Here on Anhur, people disappeared all the time, be they human or batarian or even some other species. Disposing of a few undesirables who had tried to break in was something Lyssa had no issues with whatsoever. Anhur was full of criminals, and the fewer of them in the world the better.

Days were normally cool this time of year. The inside of the facility was usually kept at a comfortable middle-of-the-road temperature, courtesy of the climate control systems. Lyssa, once again finding her afternoon taken up with paperwork (or rather, the more electronic and digital variant), once again thought back to her old squad, to the friends and comrades who were no doubt slugging it on some training exercise or getting shot at by pirates and mercenaries. She was not sure she was thankful to no longer be in that position, or envious of the thrill such dangerous escapades brought with it. After all, she was not afraid to admit that some of the most exciting times of her life had been when she had been shot at.

Her desk was tidy, sparse even as it lacked any overly intrusive personal touches one might find in similar places after they had been occupied for some time. The shutters at the window at her rear were open, allowing the natural light of the sun to filter on in. The only thing in here that might have clued a visitor in on the kind of woman who worked in this place was the framed pair of service medals hanging on the right-hand wall; one was the Alliance medal for bravery, the other for being wounded in action. They were contained in a simple glass-fronted frame alongside the certificates also issued with them, in which an Admiral had written in somewhat flowery language of the deeds of Staff Sergeant Lyssa Raine of the 27th Alliance Marines that had led to her receiving such awards.

At the moment, Lyssa was all too engrossed at the work on her terminal when her omni-tool buzzed. She answered the call almost immediately, her concentration having been broken with a suddenness more expected of a bomb detonating. She hardly even registered who was calling until their voice filtered in through the tool's audio:

'Chief Raine, this is Rockwell.' The man's voice was one she recognized, for Rockwell was the Sergeant in charge of the security forces, essentially a second to Raine's own glorified Lieutenant role. He was an able enough sort, former Alliance like herself. 'You may want to come down to in-processing. We finally managed to nab Valek.'

Lyssa sat up as soon as she heard the name. Valek Karken was one individual that they had been on the lookout for since setting up here on Anhur, one of many persons of interest Cerberus had been searching for. A batarian, Valek had been a higher-up in one of the more prominent insurgent groups during the Anhur Rebellions. Valek Karken had the blood of many humans on his hands, so to have captured him meant that for a change some amount of justice would be brought to bear.

'I'll be right down.' Lyssa rose from her seat. She adjusted her collar a little before she started out of the room. The corridors of the security complex were typical of human design aesthetics in this day and age, all sleek curves and stark, utilitarian grey panelling at the floors and walls. At this hour, the facility was in full operation, and personnel of all sorts milled about on their daily business. This complex was simply part of a much larger facility, one that combined advanced research projects in fields such as medicine and biology and weapons, to serving as the headquarters for the independent paramilitary arm of the organization.

Out here in the Terminus Systems, the Alliance could do little to protect those humans who had chosen to expand and settle this far from home. Cerberus had taken it upon themselves to serve as the organization that would look out for their kind, with the resources necessary to assist any human settlements that may be in trouble. Anhur was a hotspot for such work because of the Rebellions years before and the ongoing fallout that had followed. With no Alliance presence out here, there were few a human settler could turn to for help.

Valek Karken was simply one of several known war criminals thought to be hiding out on Anhur, yet in the case of most they did not even bother to hide. Why would they when their people's own government supported their actions? The Alliance was in no position to bring these people to justice. Were it not for Cerberus, these alien criminals would never be made accountable for their wrongdoings. Lyssa was all too pleased to be a part of something that genuinely helped those in need, as well as having the capability to bring the hammer down on some of the galaxy's worst nonhuman criminal sorts. With this in mind, she moved at a brisk pace through the facility's corridors, headed downstairs to the "in-processing" section of the security complex. It was essentially a glorified jail down there, wherein anyone brought into Cerberus custody would be detained and questioned until their fates would be properly decided. A "black site" if there ever was one, being beyond the jurisdiction of the Alliance or the Citadel authorities.

Sergeant Rockwell, outfitted in the yellow and grey armour of a field trooper, stood by the doors that led into the detention centre. Cast in the sterile glow of the white fittings in the ceiling above, his gruff forty-something features sighted Lyssa's determined gait from well down the corridor. He started towards her, moving to intercept.

'I was told we were to wait for Director Rickard—'

'I want to speak to him.' Lyssa stepped around him, leaving Rockwell little choice but to follow after her. 'You are sure it's him?'

'Oh, it's him. He didn't even have an alias. We snagged him off the streets of Havak'sal.' That was just one of many smaller settlements in the far eastern regions. Lyssa had read all about the likes of Valek Karken, she had even seen footage of the atrocities he and others like him had committed during the war. Part of her duties beyond simply keeping the complex secure was to track down these most wanted individuals. Any they brought in would bring with it not only the feel-good sense that she was doing something to help the humans here on Anhur, but also a sizeable bonus in pay.

'Son of a bitch was working as a cosmetic surgeon. Can you believe that?' Rockwell paused by the doors into the detention area. He watched Lyssa with narrowed eyes. 'Really, Chief, you shouldn't go in there until the Director has arrived. He'll want to speak to the prisoner even more than you want to.'

'I'm not waiting for the Director.' Lyssa waved her omni-tool before the scanner by the door. With a beep, her identity was confirmed and the door slid open. Beyond was a somewhat dingier corridor, mostly concrete and metal panelled floors. There was a security gate further ahead, past a waiting area. The one guard on duty there rose from his chair as Lyssa and the Sergeant approached, and the previously bored guard offered the pair a salute. They may not have been official military, but it helped to keep up some measure of the professional etiquette.

'Where's Valek Karken being kept?' She paused before the security gate, turning to the guard.

'Down the hall, room two-A.' The guard frowned. 'Ma'am, I was instructed that we wait for Director Rickard's approval before anyone goes in to see the prisoner.'

'I wish to speak to him.' Lyssa gave the guard a hardened glare. 'Now, will you let me in, or do I have to shoot my way through this gate?'

'Ah, no, Chief Raine. I'll let you through.' The guard tapped a few buttons at his terminal. The security gate swung open then, allowing Lyssa access to the corridor beyond.

'Thank you.' Lyssa strode on through, with Sergeant Rockwell following. The corridor ended at a dead-end some distance ahead, with at least four separate doors along the right-hand side. The one towards the end was apparently Valek Karken's current location, and Lyssa instead went through the door a short distance before it. Inside was little more than a small, sparse observation room, in which a half dozen vacant chairs faced a window that looked into the neighbouring interview room. It was a one-way window of course, being mirrored on the interview room's side. As such, the batarian currently seated within that room remained oblivious to the two humans who were now glaring at him through the reinforced glass.

'Ugly bastards, aren't they?' Lyssa remarked as soon as she laid eyes upon the four-eyed alien. Indeed, of all the major alien species she had seen, the batarians were perhaps the most unsettling in appearance. It was likely due to their two pairs of eyes, set above what Lyssa had to figure were three pairs of small nostrils. The eyes always seemed to be a deep black in colour, although the skin tones varied from shades of brown and yellow to even red. The one seated inside the interview room, hands cuffed to the tabletop in front of him had a mostly deep red-brown face. He had the weathered features of a batarian of somewhat advanced age, perhaps well into his sixties. Outfitted in a simple dark red jumpsuit, typical batarian civilian wear, this particular alien looked decidedly annoyed. Lyssa supposed this was understandable, seeing as how he had been snatched off the street as part of a covert operation.

'Prosthetic eyes,' Rockwell said, interrupting her train of thought.

'Hmm?'

'He's a cosmetic surgeon. Specialises in prosthetic eyes.' Rockwell turned to Lyssa. 'Doesn't look like much, does he?'

'Just another stinking batarian.' Lyssa remained standing before the window a moment more, gazing at the unwitting alien, trying to get some read on him. It was difficult with batarians, given their excess of eyes; their faces were not quite so expressive as those on humans, or even asari for that matter.

'Did he make a fuss when you brought him in?' Lyssa asked the Sergeant.

'The usual nonsense, about how we haven't got the right and how his government is going to step in and make us all pay.'

'So, nothing new there.' Lyssa was already formulating more than a few questions she intended to ask this particular batarian. On a whim, she activated her omni-tool and brought up the records Cerberus had on Valek Karken: age, sixty-four. Born on Kharshan, moved to Anhur at the age of twenty. Member of the Hegemony Medical Arm. A legitimate doctor, and it was those skills that had made him so very useful to the pro-slavery side during the Anhur Rebellions. Not so much in his skill at saving lives, rather it lay in how good he had been at taking them. Experimenting on live human subjects had been his game, and the footage and images Lyssa had seen attached to this alien's file had been sickening, to say the least.

'I'm going to speak to him.' Lyssa started out of the room before Rockwell could even respond. The Sergeant went to follow her, stop her even, but he knew the Security Chief well enough to know that once her mind was made, there was no force in this galaxy that could dissuade her.

'So, do you humans always send your whores to fight for you?' The batarian's remark, delivered in a deep, gravelly voice, was paid little attention by Lyssa as she stepped into the interview room. She simply came to a halt at the opposite end of the single, lonely table in the centre of the space and locked her eyes upon the batarian's own four, focusing more on the lower pair than the somewhat smaller higher pair.

The room was bare, save for the table and its two chairs. The grey brick walls gave the place a somewhat dreary feel, with a single light fitting above casting it all in an uncomfortable white glow. At one corner, a camera was attached to the wall just a handful of inches short of the ceiling. Lyssa glanced to the lens in turn, wondering who might be watching her now. The batarian, Valek, shifted where he sat and jingled the cuffs that kept him bound to the tabletop in front of him.

'Hey, bitch, I'm talking to you.' He tugged at the cuffs, which had been wrapped about a small metal handle that was screwed to the tabletop. The table, in turn, was bolted to the floor. Unless this guy had the strength of a krogan, he was not going anywhere.

'You can't keep me here like this. Human police arrest humans, not batarians. Taking me into your custody could be construed as a malicious act.'

'You're here, Valek Karkan, because you're a criminal.' Lyssa set her gaze back upon the batarian. She saw him frown slightly upon hearing her speak. Knowing his kind, he likely found it offensive that a female of another species would speak to him in such a way. 'You're a murderer, a monster. And since your government is full of similar people, they seem to think you're okay. I don't. Neither do my colleagues.'

'What would you know, human? Your people have done nothing but cause my kind problems. The sheer gall your kind has in pulling me off of the street like this and bringing me here, to this dungeon?' The batarian let out a loud, derisive snort. 'Human hubris, pure and simple. You all believe the galaxy is yours. It isn't.'

'I didn't come here to talk politics.' Lyssa began to step around the table. Valek's eyes followed her as she moved past him, and as she put him behind her she knew full well that he was ogling her rear. As much as his sort might have hated humans, it seemed even a batarian male could not divert his many eyes from a good-looking human female.

Lyssa ignored him for the moment, and instead stepped over to where the camera was located. It was a simple enough sort, little more than a small dome fitted on the wall. Lyssa raised her left hand, activating her omni-tool. This time, with the use of a simple override program, she filled the camera's feed with static. It would remain in that state for several minutes until the techs over in security control reset the system. This would provide her with the time she needed to find out what she wanted to know.

'You're Valek Karken, high-ranking member of the Na'hesit, the pro-slavery political organization that instigated the war here. You were second only to Salak Vok, chairman of that organization.'

'So, you found me out,' Valek spat. Lyssa made her way back to the other end of the table. This time, she clasped the top of the vacant chair there, leaning forwards slightly as she once more locked eyes with the batarian.

'Am I supposed to be impressed?' He added. 'I wasn't hiding.'

'You should be worried, Valek.' Lyssa could not help but smirk then, hoping the reality of this batarian's situation was enough to knock him down a peg. 'Because here, we're independent. We don't adhere to any Alliance rules, or Citadel law for that matter. We're here to look out for our people, the same ones your kind has tried so hard to run roughshod over here on this miserable planet.'

'You're not Alliance?' Valek's eyes narrowed.

'No, we're not. I mean, I used to be Alliance. I was a soldier and, although I'm not one to brag, I was told more than once that I was damn good at being one. I fought to protect my people, and I'm sure you see yourself in a similar light. Thing is, I didn't do what you did. I killed only when it was necessary. You, on the other hand, engaged in cruel experimentation on live subjects during the Rebellions. You can deny it if you want, but we know who you are and all about what you did.' Lyssa's smile broadened. She found it all too satisfying to put a haughty alien in its place. From the way Valek's demeanour had shifted, she figured that her words had had the desired effect.

'To make it clear, Valek, you have no rights here. None whatsoever. You aren't even human, so our own human rights charter is irrelevant. Here, we can do what we want to you and there ain't a damn thing you can do about it. You're under our power now and that should frighten you.'

'You can't do this,' Valek stated, and his voice rose in volume. His anger flared, and he rattled the handcuffs in a futile effort to break loose. 'I'm a Hegemony citizen. You can't hold me captive, not without incurring a diplomatic incident.'

'Yeah, well, no one knows you're here. People go missing all the time. You'll just be the latest in a long list of mysterious disappearances.' Lyssa leaned forwards some more, practically leering over the startled batarian. 'I could gut you here and no one outside of this place would know. Few would even care. I could feed your body to a pack of varren and no one would ever find your remains.'

'You can't do this.' Valek seemed a little more cowed now, as if he realised that escape was out of the question. Sure, if by some miracle he broke his handcuffs he could make a run for it, charge her, hit her even. But even if he got past her, he was in the middle of an elaborate compound of which he had no knowledge of the layout, one bristling with armed guards. He would be shot down before he could even get close to an exit, and Valek was smart enough to realise this. Lyssa would have hoped the man had brains, seeing as how he was a medical doctor.

'I can do what I want,' Lyssa declared. 'You're nothing here.' She offered him another smile, one not without a dose of malice. 'Now, what I can do for you is simple: I can get you out of here. I can send you on your way with the guarantee that no one from this organization will ever bother you again. For all the crimes you have committed, doctor, as heinous as they are you are still a smaller fish than the one we've had our eyes set on. We're really after your boss.'

'My boss?' All four of the batarian's eyes narrowed at once.

'Salak Vok. The self-proclaimed President and General of your insurgent organization. The one responsible for so many of the outrages that occurred during the rebellions. Thousands of innocents killed, humans at that, systematically murdered in the territories he came to control during the war. He rounded up your test subjects, did he not? He provided you with those you needed to conduct your foul experiments. And despite our best efforts, Salak Vok remains at large.' She leaned forwards then, hands clasping the top of the chair in front of her. She pulled it out slowly, but she did not sit down. All she did was push it aside, and now she leaned on the table and looked down at Valek with sharp eyes and a harsh glare.

'You must know where he is.'

'I haven't spoken to Vok for years.'

'Bullshit.' Lyssa felt a spike of anger but otherwise kept a lid on it. 'Don't think we don't already know of your correspondences with him. How else do you think we were able to track you down? He's here, isn't he? On Anhur?'

'I haven't had anything to do with Vok since the war ended.' Valek sounded nervous. Lyssa detected the wavering tone in his voice. The pressure was mounting now, and his previously relaxed demeanour was starting to crack. 'Last I heard he left the planet some time ago. Returned to Kharshan to meet a hero's welcome.'

'You must think we're idiots around here.' Lyssa shook her head slowly. 'Salak Vok has been operating his insurgent forces here for years now. Sticking out in the wilderness, striking human settlements when the opportunity arises. The war for him never ended. A warlord and bandit, a far cry from the self-proclaimed revolutionary leader. You're lying to me, Valek. And worse yet, you're wasting my time.'

Valek leaned back in his chair. Some of his previous defiance reappeared on his alien features.

'I don't know where he is.'

'Again, doctor, where is Salak Vok?'

'I told you, human, I don't know—'

Lyssa did not give him a chance to finish. One hand went to the chair by her side and grabbed hold of it, picking it up before she sent it flying across the room with a sudden and powerful swing. Valek's eyes widened in shock, and he leaned back as far as his chair and the handcuffs would allow, fearing that the next blow would be on him.

'Stop wasting my time!' Lyssa shouted, and she leaned in close and proceeded to yell right in the batarian's face: 'Where is Salak Vok? Where is he, your four-eyed shit stain?'

Lyssa reached into a pocket on her uniform. There was a simple and somewhat old-fashioned switchblade in there, and she pulled it out. With a flourish, she had extended the small but sharp blade. As Valek watched, she pointed it at one of his upper eyes, holding it only mere inches away from the black, fear-filled orb.

'You've got four chances to give me the answer I want,' Lyssa stated, her voice having returned to its previous and normal volume. Nonetheless, there was a far sterner edge to it, the suggestion that if this batarian doctor did not tell her what she wanted to know then he would pay dearly for it.

'Please, I have rights,' the batarian pleaded.

'Not here you don't.'

'I have a family…'

'So did all those people you and your boss killed.' She did not hesitate to slash the blade forwards, cutting across one of the doctor's upper eyes. He let out an agonized howl as blood and ocular fluid spilled forth, and he almost fell off of his chair from the shock and the pain. Lyssa took a step back, holding the bloodied blade before her. Batarians were so prideful of their appearances, much in the same way many humans were. This doctor, a cosmetic surgeon no less, would likely need the assistance of his own prosthetics now.

'Three more chances,' Lyssa said. The batarian had pitched his head forwards, and a pitiful whimpering had started to sound from his throat. Lyssa turned up her nose upon seeing this, finding the sight far too pathetic for her liking.

'The location, doctor. Where is Salak Vok?'

'One thing I do admire about you, Chief Raine, is the manner in which you throw yourself headlong into the task at hand. You give everything your all, and that's good. Great even. In this instance, however, you acted outside of protocol. It was not your place to interrogate the prisoner.'

The office of Director Johan Rickard was larger and better decorated than Lyssa's own. The Director had added his personal flair to a previously bland grey and white space, complete with hanging paintings and display cases in which a variety of old, historical memorabilia was contained. There was even the flag of the long defunct nation of South Africa at one wall, contained within a glass-fronted frame and visibly marked with burns and bullet holes. Behind the Director's desk was a set of large windows, although for now he had the shutters down, blotting out the nighttime landscape beyond.

Lyssa stood a short distance before the wide, glazed mahogany desk. She had her hands clasped behind her back, her features set into a neutral, immutable expression.

Director Rickard leaned back in his seat, cigar in hand, the tip wisping smoke. He was a man of fifty-two, tall and lean with a clean-shaven face and short-cropped black hair. His attire consisted of an expensive blue suit, the undershirt beneath a paler shade in comparison. Unlike the other officers about the facility, Director Rickard did not need to wear uniform, and often showed up to work in a variety of expensive, tailor-made suits. His cigar was of genuine Earth make, imported at great expense from South America.

'I would have been there sooner, but I was held up in a conference call with the boss.' Rickard tapped the end of his cigar into the glass ashtray at his right-hand side. 'It seems there are going to be some changes organization-wide, and certain projects are to be accelerated ahead of schedule.'

'Sir, I wish to apologise—'

'Apologise for what? Hurting a batarian?' Rickard snorted in derision. His voice carried a hint of an accent, but years away from Earth had reduced it such that it seemed to only show itself when he pronounced particular words. 'You got something from him in the end. Mind you, we've already searched the region he indicated. Nothing was there before, and it's unlikely Salak Vok has moved there now.' Rickard put the cigar to his mouth and proceeded to take a long, hearty drag. Savouring the taste of the exotic tobacco, he left Lyssa waiting for longer than she would have preferred. Finally, after what felt like several minutes, Rickard placed the smouldering cigar into the ashtray and went on to blow forth a significant plume of smoke. The stench of the burning tobacco was, in Lyssa's view, utterly foul. She could never understand how such a thing had ever caught in on the first place.

'You need to control yourself, Chief Raine. There is a chain of command here, as there no doubt was in the Marines you once served. Next time, wait until I have analysed the situation before you go charging in with a knife and a bad temper. That is all I ask.' He paused briefly once more, before he added: 'Oh, and torture isn't quite as reliable as you think it is, certainly not your methods anyhow. Oftentimes, the victim will simply tell you what you want to hear to make the pain stop. Evidently, that is exactly what this Doctor Valek did.' Rickard scratched at his chin then, appearing thoughtful. 'Granted, if the batarians had done to me what they had done to you, I would hate them as much as you do.'

'Sir?' Lyssa quirked an eyebrow, uncertain as to where her boss was going with this.

'Don't look so concerned, Chief Raine. There's a reason you were stationed here on Anhur. Your aggression scale was always higher than average compared to other applicants.' Rickard tapped a few keys at his computer terminal then, presumably bringing up Lyssa's own files. 'It was thought you would make an effective operative here. And you are succeeding quite well in that regard.'

'I only wish to serve humanity and protect its interests.'

'Of course, as we all do here.' Rickard's eyes flitted back to his terminal's display. 'Your parents were on Mindoir, is that correct? At the time of the attack?'

'They were, sir.'

'And you were elsewhere, as was your sister. Staying with relatives on Earth.'

'Sir, we've been through all this before.' Lyssa frowned, before she cleared her throat and rephrased this: 'I mean, I was questioned all about this when I applied for a position with the organization.'

'I don't mean anything by it, Chief Raine. Your history with the batarians is well documented, as is your prior attempt to apprehend Vok when you were still with the Alliance.' He paused, seemingly to gauge her reaction at mention of this mission. Salak Vok had not always been on Anhur, for it was not the only planet out here he had made his unfortunate mark upon. 'That batarian has always been a slippery bastard.'

Lyssa said nothing, even if mention of that prior mission was often enough to sour her mood. Rickard must have detected her change of demeanour, for he shifted the subject slightly:

'I simply find it fascinating to look back on such things and see how they shape us into who we are now. I only want to know what makes you tick, Raine. And what could have spurred you to have such a drastic reaction towards our batarian prisoner?'

'I want to find Salak Vok, sir.' She spoke in a level tone. Rickard looked up at her and appeared to ponder her response for a moment. He looked as if he was about to ask her something, but he must have changed his mind as he returned his attention to his desk's computer terminal.

'I'll keep this whole escapade off of your record, Raine. No one here is going to shed any tears for a batarian war criminal now short an eye, but you did breach proper procedure.'

'Thank you, sir.'

'Don't thank me yet, Raine.' Rickard's voice adopted a sterner edge then. Lyssa braced herself for some form of reprimand, or perhaps the assigning of a punishment duty of some variety. 'Remember, you are the sum of your experiences and Cerberus has offered you many more. We did save your ability to walk, did we not?'

Lyssa nodded her head in acknowledgment. She had been hobbling along like an old woman, courtesy of a serious wound from an explosive trap set by batarian pirates. She had been in the Marines then, and she had seen firsthand some close friends of hers die at the hands of those aliens. When an opportunity arises to take out some of that old hatred, such as in the case of a certain batarian doctor, she would happily take it.

'Shrapnel in the spine followed by a medical discharge. Painkillers that could knock out an elephant. You were in sorry shape when we came to you, Raine. In a way, you owe the organization. Many of our troopers do, in some way or another. You can walk freely and no longer suffer the pains you used to. The cybernetics and gene therapies took well without side effects. And you did not even have to pay a single credit for all of that good stuff.'

Lyssa suspected Rickard was making a point here, about how not to bite the mouth that feeds her. Truth be told, she knew full well, but she listened nonetheless and did not argue.

'I only bring this up, as we may require more from you, Raine. More from you and others like you.' He switched off his computer's display then, locking his gaze firmly upon Lyssa's own. 'The galaxy is a cruel and dangerous place. The other species cannot be trusted. However, it is not just the likes of the batarians or the turians or salarians we have to be wary of. There are threats beyond even our own understanding. Threats that will require all that you can give and more if we are to face them effectively and beat them.'

'That sounds ominous, sir.'

'That's because it is.' Rickard was anything if not blunt. 'War is coming, Lyssa Raine. Whether we want it to or not, it is coming and it will be here far sooner than you expect. The boss has activated multiple new programs, for he knows the threats we face better than most. As Director of this installation, I have the authority to choose and refer certain personnel to whatever program I feel that would fit best. That said, I will be forwarding your credentials to the "Nemesis" program tomorrow. I would expect a call from them in the days following.'

'What is that, sir?'

'Simply put, it is a specialised initiative in which chosen operatives are enhanced through a variety of means. As it stands, you are no stranger to cybernetics. However, these will be far more intensive than anything you've experienced before.' Rickard plucked his cigar from the ashtray then, being sure to tap it against the rim to shake out any of the burnt-out tobacco still clinging to its end. 'You will become something better than human, or so I'm told.'

'Are you going to get enhanced, sir?' The thought of further implants brought with it mixed feelings. Lyssa had been enhanced already, first with the Alliance Marines in which basic gene therapies had seen her reflexes and overall endurance improve. And then again with Cerberus, not only through their rectification of the injury that had seen her discharged from the Marines, but also in regard to certain implants that had reinforced her bones and increased her muscle mass. All standard issue for Cerberus operatives, or so she had been told. Truthfully, she felt better than she ever had, but she had to wonder just how much more technology could be crammed into her before she really started to feel it.

'What? Me?' Rickard emitted a chuckle. Lyssa narrowed her eyes, yet the Director either ignored or remained oblivious to her disapproval. 'I am one-hundred percent natural, Chief Raine. You wouldn't catch me dead with robot parts getting stuck inside me. Besides, I have my duties, just as you do.'

'What of this war, sir?'

'We will all have a part to play in the war, Raine. Whereas you will be at the frontlines, I will be in a leadership role. After all, every army needs it leaders and its organizers.' He gave her a smile then, seemingly well aware of how hypocritical he sounded. Nonetheless, Lyssa made no remark as to that fact, and instead pondered what this new program might entail. Such a "leadership" role where the Director was concerned would not be like that of an officer leading the charge, but rather of a General a comfortable distance away from the frontlines gazing at holographic maps and relaying troop directions down the chain of command.

'My part, for instance, involves playing nice with the local government,' the Director added. 'On that note, I'll be leaving midday tomorrow for the city. I have a meeting with the Governor there. It's more of a conference really, with the entire political cabinet. I will likely be gone for a few days, so during that time you are to report to Assistant Director Scagnetti. Is that understood?'

Lyssa nodded her head in understanding. Such trips were not uncommon for the Director, be they to the local Anhur government or to authorities elsewhere.

'In the meantime, keep doing what you do best. Just be sure to go through the proper channels first.' Rickard went to puff on his cigar again, but he paused when something else came to mind: 'And don't look so disappointed. There will be plenty more batarians for you to stick your claws into, soon enough.'