27: The Traitor

In most cases, a public place was useful in Booker's line of work. It meant there was less likely to be any hostile action, at least in regard to those who were aiming for a more covert approach. Meeting in open, public ground was a sure means to dissuade the other party from doing anything reckless, yet in the case of Anhur even these prior conventions did not necessarily apply.

He had been on this planet too long and he had come to know it well, and that went for the idiosyncrasies this colony brought. Perhaps it was something within the air of this place, or maybe something in the water, but regardless of the cause it seemed that on Anhur, taking a violent action in public seemed to be the rule and not the exception. No matter how many CED troopers may have been present, one always had to remain vigilant no matter where they were, even if they happened to be standing in the public square before the gates into the administrative district. Anhur was a basket case of a planet, always undergoing some form of unrest, often a result of its divided population. The Rebellions had just been the start, or so Booker figured. One of these days, there would be another war and it would likely decide the fate of the disparate populations who attempted to make this world home.

Booker's gut instinct was telling him even now that something was not quite right here. Sure, he was in a busy monorail station, with dozens of people milling about on their routine business. As he traversed the rows of wall-mounted lockers, he found himself keeping a close eye on those around him. People from all walks of life were moving about, back and forth, opening lockers and pulling items from them. Humans, batarians, some asari, a few salarians, even a couple of turians; Booker eyed each in turn without allowing his gaze to linger too long, attempting to gauge if there was anything amiss. So far, there was little that had him worried, and yet he could not dismiss this nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that something was not quite right.

He spoke quietly, such that the communications earpiece he wore would pick up his voice:

'Sevarn, is everything good on your end?' A pause followed, one that went for a moment longer than Booker would have preferred. Even so, the turian did reply, albeit belatedly:

'Yes, I'm not seeing anything unusual out here.' He sounded a little uncertain. Booker was not keen on having an alien he had only met a few hours ago watching his back, but in a situation such as this one could not be picky.

'Understood.' He stopped by a cluster of lockers, his eyes scanning the numbers printed upon them. They settled on one in particular. 'Looks like I've found the locker. I'll let you know what's inside.'

Booker looked to his left and then to his right. The locker area was sparsely populated, although he did notice one turian maintenance worker lingering down the far end. This one had a mop and bucket in hand, and he had started to work on the tiled floor with the mop. From the PA system, another announcement sounded in both English and the batarian common tongue: another train was about to arrive, with a further two scheduled to depart in only a few minutes.

Booker watched the turian with the dull grey features mopping at the floor. The one thing he found odd about the whole sight was that it was a turian who was doing the cleaning, and he could only wonder what had landed one of them here on Anhur and in such a sorry job.

Booker pulled a small implement from one pocket then, a common one for agents in his line of work. It was little more than a black metal prong keyed with a variety of hacking programs, geared towards bypassing computerised locks. It was especially good at breaking through the more primitive sorts, such as those that were fitted to these lockers. These were old-fashioned electronic keypads, no doubt a cost-cutting measure on the part of those who had built this station. With a bit of tinkering, he would have this lock open in no time.

Sevarn was seated across from Colonel Venarus at one of a handful of tables clustered at one corner of the hall, serving as the eating area for the few take away stalls erected nearby. None appeared to have any dextro-based food on their menus, so for the time being Sevarn went without a meal. It had been too long since he had last had a proper one at that, and simply sitting so close to such stores only made him feel all the hungrier. Nonetheless, he found his attention was fully absorbed by the older male seated across from him.

'It's probably best you don't tell your associate I'm here,' Venarus stated. The older male had clasped his hands upon the tabletop before him. 'The humans aren't likely to trust me.'

'I think we can trust these ones, sir,' Sevarn said.

'Perhaps, but for myself that remains to be seen.' His ageing features narrowed into something a little grimmer. 'Now, you're probably wondering how I'm still alive.'

'That would be the least of it, sir.'

'A mix of luck and pre-planning, Lieutenant. In fact, it's part of the reason I'm here. I have an offer for you, one that you may be interested in. After all, you have proven yourself a more than able soldier. There is something I must ask you first.'

'Sir?' Sevarn was intrigued, partly because his commanding officer was still alive, but also by the almost conspiratorial tone the older male's voice had adopted. He had heard of Venarus and his often-unconventional approach to warfare. By all accounts the Colonel was a strait-laced, no-nonsense sort. Him being here was unusual, very much so, but Sevarn needed to learn more before he made his mind up about what he could see before him.

'There is a secret war being waged between the major species of this galaxy, Lieutenant. Always has been. Organizations such as Cerberus only push the envelope further in regard to covert military actions. Eradicating their facility here on Anhur was necessary to secure the borders of the Hierarchy and to further impede that organization's operations across the board.'

'I understand that, sir.'

'I know you do. You have a sharp wit about you, Lieutenant. It said as much in your file. The fact that you have survived everything that has happened these past days speaks volumes as to your skills. I need men like you for the coming conflict.'

'What conflict, sir?' Sevarn narrowed his eyes. This subject matter was becoming all the more ominous.

'A war, Lieutenant. A war that will start when the data stolen from the Cerberus facility is released to the galaxy at large. What that woman, Natasha Vasiya, stole from the facility was a list of names and details pertaining to operations those individuals had partaken in. Names of high-ranking Alliance officials with ties to Cerberus. Admirals and Generals and politicians and the like.'

Sevarn frowned. There was something here that did not quite add up, and he met the Colonel's stern eyes with his own:

'How do you know of Natasha Vasiya, Colonel?'

'I know of her because I directed her to the facility, Lieutenant. I slipped the intel to her. She was a woman with a vendetta against the organisation. I knew she would not pass up the opportunity this intel afforded her.'

Sevarn said nothing in reply. He found he could not think of anything to say, not then and there, not when faced with this revelation. If anything, more and more questions begin to spring to mind, and the implications of many of them were not pleasant.

'She used her quarian mercenary friend to slip that intel to your team. It was all part of the plan, Lieutenant. Your team was always intended to wipe the place out, but not before the data had been retrieved. Something that Natasha Vasiya had removed from what we gave her, as she planned on using your team's strike as cover for her own intrusion.'

'You had the intel this whole time?' Sevarn's eyes widened. He was surprised at how open the Colonel was being about everything. He glanced about the hall then, noticing that there were a few more turians milling about the crowds than had been previously.

'How did you acquire it in the first place?' From the way the Colonel's expression soured, this had apparently been the wrong question to ask. Sevarn rose to his feet then, his previous sense of uncertainty after finding Venarus alive having morphed into a deepening sense of dread.

'I had to stage my own death, Lieutenant. I did not expect you and your human friend to survive the convoy ambush, nor were you meant to survive the attack at the restaurant where I "died".'

'You hired Vok,' Sevarn stated, his voice hollow. It felt as if someone had driven a stake through his chest, a stake with "betrayal" etched upon it in bold lettering. 'You used him and his followers to wipe out the convoy. You were tying up loose ends. We were never meant to survive this operation.'

'The loss of life surrounding the stolen data would only help enhance its legitimacy,' Venarus explained. His grey-blue eyes narrowed, filled with malice. 'What I did, I did for the Hierarchy.'

'What you did, you did for your own glory. Your own career.' It still did not explain how he had found out about the Cerberus facility in the first place, or of the data that had been stolen. There was something more here, and the possibilities that entered Sevarn's mind then were all very sordid, very frightening ones.

'So many good people died because of what you did.' Sevarn felt the anger rising within him. His biotics began to stir, involuntarily. Upon seeing the shimmering blue haze envelop the younger turian, Venarus jumped to his feet.

'You better stow those powers of your right now, Lieutenant. I have men watching us who will gun you down if you make a move against me.' The Colonel's voice was harsh, that of a commanding officer attempting to put an unruly subordinate in his place. And for a fleeting moment there, it almost worked. Sevarn's growing biotic field faded, but his anger did not.

'Work with me, Lieutenant. We'll be heroes when we return home.'

'All those people…' Sevarn swallowed, trying to quell the fury that threatened to blow out of him then and there. 'Not just the team, but the innocents at the restaurant. The men who attacked us there were your men, weren't they?'

'Collateral damage, Lieutenant. You're a soldier. You know such a thing is often unavoidable.'

'And now you're here because…' He trailed off. His eyes towards the distant locker area. He realised then that he had allowed himself to become too distracted, and he immediately activated the communications function of his visor. Venarus simply watched him, scowling.

'Booker, Booker, this is Sevarn. Can you hear me?'

No answer. Little more than static filled the airwaves. Venarus sighed, as if bored.

'Disappointing, Lieutenant. You should know we'd have started jamming comms here by now.'

Sevarn looked past Venarus, noticing the two turian males in civilian attire loitering several metres away. One of them looked over to him, and it was then that he knew that Venarus had not been exaggerating about the men he had watching him.

'They're loyal to me, Lieutenant,' Venarus stated, having seen where the younger turian's gaze had gone. 'I was hoping you might have joined their ranks, but it looks like you're just another loose end.'

The locker door clicked open. Glancing either way, Booker stowed the lock bypass tool before he set his attention towards the inside of the locker. There was little in there that stood out to him. In fact, there was very little at all. A small black satchel bag was present, and he pulled it from the locker and pulled the zipper upon it open. Nothing was inside, and he made sure to check every other small pouch on the item before he shoved it back into the locker.

There was nothing else, at least at a glance. Booker frowned, feeling some disappointment, but it was a sensation coupled with a mounting foreboding. If the locker was empty, then that could very well mean someone else had beaten him to the punch. However, before his mind could get lost on the many possibilities, his eyes drifted to the top of the locker, the ceiling of it to be more exact. Just on the inside of the doorway was a small length of duct tape, and it was covering something small and circular. From outside, one would have been unable to see it. Given his close proximity, all it had taken was to stick his head slightly inside and direct his eyes upwards.

He reached up and pulled the tape aside. There was an optical storage drive stuck underneath, and he pulled it from the tape and gave it a close examination. It was similar to the one that held the original data, and he could only assume that this was the decryption key Natasha had been hiding.

Booker slipped the device into a pocket before he closed the locker door. He turned to his right then, noting that the turian maintenance worker had stopped mopping the floor. That worker was bending over his bucket, and from within he pulled a Locust-model submachine gun. That turian then spun about and started marching towards him. Booker noticed the rather intent look the turian wore, realising that he was very much the focus of it. He turned to his left and sighted another turian, this one dressed in blue and black civvies. He held a data pad under one arm. Booker sighted the hilt of a gun concealed behind it.

He was unarmed, as had been necessary to enter the station without triggering security. Booker supposed these turians had found another way in or had simply bribed station security. Regardless, he was caught in the middle and his remaining time left to live could likely be measured in seconds. He had to do something, anything to buy himself even just a little more.

He swung open the locker door and pulled the empty bag free. He threw it across the hall, and he saw both turians pause, uncertain of his intention. And then Booker was shouting at the top of his lungs, all heads turning his way:

'There's a bomb! There's a bomb in the bag! Get down, everyone get down!'

The threat of terrorism was a very real one on Anhur, and as such the people about the hall reacted as Booker had been expecting them to. At first, heads turned, and when he continued to shout the curiosity turned to alarm, and for some that alarm morphed into outright terror. Those nearest started to run, and Booker spun about to face the turian who had been approaching from his left flank. He saw the alien knot his brow, that narrow nose of his scrunching with annoyance. He dropped his data pad as he took his pistol in hand, but as he went to raise it one of the terrified bystanders bowled into him in a panic. Now there were panicked shouts from about the station hall, and Booker seized his opportunity then to simply turn and charge at this turian.

The other one had brought up his submachine gun, yet panicked citizens darted past him and across his view. He held his fire for a moment, trying to line up a clean shot. Booker tackled the other turian before he could get a proper bead on him with his pistol, swatting aside the gun-wielding arm. The weapon fired, the bullet flying wide, and the sound of the shot was enough to cause a fresh round of screaming from people nearby.

Booker grabbed the turian at his back and spun him around, putting his enemy in front of him as the other one, the one disguised as a maintenance worker, opened fire. The Locust submachine gun rattled loudly, and the turian jerked and spasmed in Booker's grasp as the rounds ripped into him. Booker put a hand to the turian's weapon, prying it from his fingers as the alien let out a death rattle before he had his finger on the gun's trigger. Still holding the bloodied alien in front of him as a shield, Booker opened fire, sending three rapid shots downrange that sent the fake maintenance worker stumbling, knocking aside his bucket. Now he knew why the maintenance worker had struck him as odd: it was because the turian had been using a mop that had not even been wet, for his bucket had been devoid of water.

Booker turned around, aware that multiple sets of rapid and heavy footfalls were sounding from somewhere behind him. At first he thought it was station security, yet as he spun around with the now dead turian still propped in front of him, he saw that it was another pair of turian gunmen armed with submachine guns and dressed in unassuming civilian clothes.

Booker ducked as they opened fire, weapons rattling, bullets tearing into the bloodied corpse he had held before him. A woman running for cover to his left went down in the hail of shots, and Booker returned fire as best he could, sending both turians scattering. From somewhere nearby, he heard further shouts, even gunshots, yet they were not directed his way. It seemed that Sevarn was in as much trouble as he was.

Booker threw the dead turian aside and darted for cover behind a nearby column, a trail of submachine gun fire tearing through his wake. Chunks were blasted from the side of the column as he sought refuge, and there he quickly took stock of his situation. He had a pistol, a sleek turian-made model he did not recognize. He knew it to be turian make, for their design aesthetics were easy to spot, all sleek geometric lines upon a strict utilitarian form. Presumably, it was some model exclusive to their more specialised units, yet for the life of him he had no idea what unit these shooters belonged to. Probably some black op, one not afraid to make a mess on a Terminus Systems world.

When the shouting started, Sevarn reacted almost immediately. So did Venarus, and the Colonel reached into his tunic, no doubt to pull a gun in response to the mounting panic that was emanating from the locker area across the hall. Sevarn did not give the Colonel a chance to pull any such weapon, and instead lashed out with a quick biotic throw that saw the rippling blue energy flare around his form before a concentrated ball of it darted forth and struck the Colonel squarely in the chest. The ageing officer was lifted off of his feet and sent flying, his landing broken by a set of tables and chairs around which two human men had been seated. Both moved aside in a panic as the turian Colonel collided with the table, the whole thing breaking in half from the force of the impact.

Sevarn had no gun, and with this in mind he turned to the other two turians who had been observing the meeting some metres away. Both had pulled weapons, and both were bringing them to bear upon the young Lieutenant. Sevarn began to run, darting for the nearby food stall, one that specialised in some form of human cuisine that involved a lot of raw fish. He threw himself over the counter, startling the worried employee behind it. The rapid staccato of multiple submachine guns firing sounded from nearby, and the glass display that formed much of the shop's frontage shattered into a hundred pieces. Multiple foodstuffs on display were torn to shreds, with chunks of rice and flecks of fish spattering all over. Sevarn kept his head down, catching sight of the cashier falling with multiple bloody holes shot through him.

The pair of turian gunmen continued to riddle the front of the shop with bullets. Most of the bystanders had turned and fled by now, and outright panic filled the station hall. People were screaming in terror, and somewhere an alarm had sounded in response to the violence. Security would be on their way, if there were not here already, and as soon as the incoming fire had lapsed Sevarn risked a peek around the counter.

A group of four CED troopers had come running from the station entrance, forced to move against the rush of the panicked crowd. The turian shooters spun to face the incoming group, spreading themselves out as they opened fire. They mowed down two of the officers right away, along with multiple civilians, inciting further terrified cries from onlookers. One of the security officers raised a Vindicator rifle and let fly with a burst, and this caught one of the turians in the upper chest. He took a few steps backwards, something akin to surprise forming on his features, before he simply crumpled into a heap upon the tiled floor with dark blue blood spilling out of him. The other shooter swept his submachine gun fire against the remaining officers, sending both falling, once again managing to catch at least one fleeing female bystander in the back.

Sevarn hurried for the rear of the store, finding the employee entrance and practically throwing himself through it. He came out in a narrow lane that ran behind the row of shops, and his first thought was to find Booker. If the man had acquired the decryption key, then that was most important. That was likely what had brought Venarus here, supported as he was by a group of apparently loyal soldiers. Ruthless killers no less, black ops mercenaries with no qualms about collateral damage.

He had no real chance to process what he had been told, other than the anger he felt towards the Colonel in general. He and his team had been used, and when they had fulfilled their use, they had been disposed of as if little more than rubbish. It sickened Sevarn that a genuine military hero such as Venarus could be so callous and so ready to turn against his own, all for what Sevarn assumed was his personal gain. Of course, he could not be truly sure of the Colonel's motivations, not with the unanswered questions he had darting about his mind, the ones that he knew only Venarus could answer.

He came out into the station hall again. Venarus was up on his feet, gun in hand. The Colonel's face was scrunched up in anger, and there was an obvious bruise on his facial plates at his forehead where he had struck it hard during his tumble. He was shouting at his two remaining men who were running up to him from opposite ends of the station. As soon as Sevarn stepped into view, Venarus pointed a finger his way.

Yet, before Venarus or any of his lackeys could respond, multiple gunshots rang out from somewhere ahead. Booker had appeared, pistol in hand, and he sent one of the Colonel's men falling before Venarus and his other henchman had a chance to react. Booker crouched by a bench, and as he continued laying on the fire in the Colonel's direction he chanced a glance at Sevarn:

'Come on! I'll cover you!' Booker continued shooting and Sevarn acted immediately, racing across the open hall. With another concentrated flare of biotic energy, he encased himself in a sturdy barrier, and he did so in a very timely fashion for almost as soon as it was in place he felt more than one round strike it. The impacts were nullified by the barrier, yet the effort to keep such a thing in place for a prolonged period was more than was comfortable.

He kept on running, passing by Booker's position. The man stood up, firing away, before he turned and started after Sevarn. More CED officers had started charging into the station hall, and as Sevarn looked back he sighted Venarus. The Colonel's aggravation was clear in the way he bared his pointed teeth, seemingly snarling. And then he had turned the other way, his last follower spinning on his heels to open fire at the approaching half a dozen of armed and armoured security officers.

This turian let fly with a volley of submachine gun fire, downing one of the officers before the others opened fire. He was cut to ribbons in a matter of seconds, left as a bloodied and motionless heap on the floor.

Sevarn, still running, came upon a set of steps that descended a short way down and headed for one of the magnetic monorail platforms. It was down here he ran, with Booker following close behind. The tunnel was short and brought them upon the open-air platform. The several commuters still out here looked to the pair with curiosity and suspicion, but otherwise did little else as the mismatched pair hurried on by. With no monorail train present, Sevarn jumped from the platform and landed by the single magnetic track, with Booker doing the same. It was out here that Sevarn heard his earpiece come back to life, and a familiar voice finally broke through the weakening jamming signal, albeit rife with static:

'Sev, Sev, are you there?' Lyssa sounded worried. She had probably been trying to reach him for some time. Sevarn took a moment to slow down, panting heavily as he came to a gradual stop at the boundaries of the station itself. They were outside now, flanked by apartment complexes and the outlying service buildings of the station itself. Booker slowed as he did, although he appeared far less keen about it.

'I can hear you, Lyssa.' He leaned against the nearest wall, trying to catch his breath. They had put the main station building some ways behind them now, but the risk of being caught by the CED was still all too real.

'Did you find the decryption key?'

'We got it.' Booker interjected then, and Sevarn felt some small relief to know that this trip and all the trouble had not been a waste of time. 'We need to rendezvous, fast. Something happened.'

'Yeah, well, I had some trouble of my own.' Sevarn could hear her sigh on the other end of the line, and when she spoke again her voice had taken on a grimmer tone : 'The quarian's dead. So is Marelix. But he told me something before he went.'

'What would that be?' Sevarn asked.

'That a certain Colonel Venarus was behind everything,' Lyssa explained . 'I didn't get much more out of him than that, but if it's true then we've probably hit a dead-end. I mean, Venarus died right in front of us back at that restaurant, didn't he?'

Colonel Calen Venarus had always considered himself a good turian, one who put the needs of the Hierarchy as a whole above his own, a man who was not afraid to give his life for the cause. He had devoted most of his life to serving his people, yet in more recent years it had become apparent that in return for his service, he had not received what he had felt to be his just due.

Being here on Anhur had become a necessity and using his authority to arrange the strike against the Cerberus mission had been crucial. All he had needed to do was make the whole thing appear as just another covert mess up, something that could be brushed tidily under the carpet and that absolutely none of the fallout would find its way back to Palaven. In the meantime, he would disappear, just another casualty of the ruthless mercenaries who inhabited this backwater planet.

Instead, he had loose ends he could not afford and unexpected interlopers in the form of Alliance Intelligence operatives. Just about every loyal soldier he had brought here with him to serve his purposes had been killed, first at the restaurant where he had arranged his "death" and now here, at this monorail station. Now he was on the run for lack of anything better, and if Sevarn and his allies were to pass that decrypted data to the higher-ups back home then there was little to no chance of Venarus ever returning to Palaven, or to Hierarchy space as a whole. His gamble to win over Lieutenant Valus had failed, although he had half-expected it to. Nonetheless, he could not help but feel a little disappointed.

A man such as Venarus did not carry out their intended plans without contingencies in place, and he had more than one here on Anhur. Emerging into the panicked streets outside the station, he joined the dozens of fleeing commuters as they ran from the scene of the gunfight. By now, CED officers were pouring onto the scene. Venarus hobbled along, feeling some pain in his chest that likely indicated a cracked rib. Lieutenant Valus was a potent biotic, and even now Venarus was still feeling the throw that had catapulted him several metres across the station's main hall.

As he moved, keeping at a steady jog, he activated the communicator within his omni-tool. He darted into a nearby alley, escaping the main rush of people. There, he attempted to contact any one of his loyal troops who he had brought with him to the station. None replied, confirming what he had suspected: his loyal soldiers were all dead, and he quietly swore after the last one he called failed to reply. Nonetheless, he switched channels, opening a call to one man whom he had been hoping he would not need to enlist assistance from:

'I need to speak to Chief Taft,' Venarus stated. 'Tell him it's the Colonel.' He was still a little breathless from his running. He looked about the alley, blue-grey eyes darting uneasily. Anhur was the kind of place where trust was not so easily found, and where one's rivals might strike from anywhere at any time. He had to remind himself that Sevarn and his associates had likely fled from the CED anyway, hardly in a position to come after him personally.

Venarus' wariness was not unfounded, however. As he waited for his call to be transferred, he heard movement from somewhere ahead of him. He looked up, sighting another turian, albeit one he did not recognize. This one was in black civilian gear and appeared to be a similar age to him. There was something almost smug about the expression he wore.

Suddenly, the human's voice came through his communicator:

'This is Taft.' It sounded low and raspy, almost so low as to make it difficult for Venarus to properly discern. 'Colonel, is that you?'

'Look, I can't talk now. I need you to trace—' He heard footsteps behind him then, and as he spun around he heard a gunshot that struck him in the upper chest. There was some immediate pain brought on by the impact, but this was followed by a debilitating wave of electricity instead of the expected agony and coughing up blood. He fell forwards, his omni-tool switching off as the stun charge wracked his body. He could do little to control his limbs, and so fell unceremoniously flat on his face in the alley. The two armoured turians who approached did so quickly, and one of them grabbed him by the arm and slapped a pair of handcuffs about his wrists.

Venarus, only just emerging from the daze brought on by the stun round, looked up to find the older turian male peering down at him with something curious about his features. That curiosity quickly gave way to a deep, scrutinising scowl that caused the ageing male's brow to furrow.

'You have a lot of explaining to do, Colonel.'