Nearly ten years in the Broker 'chair', and I still have no fucking idea what I am doing half the time.

Like actually balancing my Day Job and my Part Time job was a delicate act that I was still struggling with. The double life, the lies I have to tell to keep it up, the constant isolation as I spend entire nights just reading up on reports and data sheets of the most boring stuff imaginable, and my free time being so significantly cut since I have to micromanage everything!

Well, not everything. Most Network interactions between clients for the purchase or sale of information mostly works itself, and Patriarch has certainly picked up the slack on the more minute organizational stuff, but I still have to keep a finger on the pulse of everything going on. At least tangentially.

And that's before we bring in my own personal life. Friends, family, estranged or otherwise, and all the difficulties of simply living. Sleep, hygiene, food, work, Broker or otherwise, there are only so many hours in the day.

Like, it's reaching a point where I can't even tell what my 'real' job is anymore. Am I a commando who plays around as the most powerful information Broker in the Galaxy in my off hours, or am I the Shadow Broker who maintains a civilian identity of being a Commando?

Things with the Republican Guard are more 'in my face', and I actually dealt with them 'in person', with my actual life on the line in most instances, but everything about it just seemed so… small in comparison to the stuff I deal with as the Broker.

Like, how can I bring myself to care about student protests against Illium's indentured servitude companies when I am actively trying to end the slave trade in the Traverse. Playing off dozens of Batarian groups against one another, or trying to find some way to get them to stop funding slavers by have the institution wither on the vine, without cause a Batarian civil war?

Or how can I bring myself to relate to maidens 'my age' when I am actively trying to stave off the extinction of civilization and most maidens want to just talk about who they are sleeping with!? I don't really have a sex life to boast about since I'm a little too busy for that, and I find most of the things they do want to talk about completely inane.

My squadmates, and family, are a little easier to deal with, but I bet even they noticed a sharp change in my demeanor for the past few years. I can only chalk up my 'absent mindedness' (that's what I call it when I am trying to run a massive criminal empire during dinner on my omni-tool) or me being in 'shock' about being the Asari councilor's daughter.

At some point, the question becomes 'what else are we not seeing going on that makes her like this'.

Yet, despite all the hurdles, and stress, and shortcomings, progress was being made on the biggest issue in my life; the Reapers.

Research bases were set up near the Reaper corpses, far enough away to not have to deal with indoctrination risks, and the results, while slow, were promising so far. New armor plates derived from bits and pieces of Reaper hulls are the most 'practical' achievements so far, and progress in reverse engineering the Reaper's main energy weapon has shown very promising results.

I've even managed to find a way to slowly introduce at least the armor into the wider market, making my shell companies a fortune from sales and licensing! Sure I'm going to lose money soon enough from other manufacturers copying the designs and making their own versions, but this was never about the money. It's about getting the tech out there and mass produced and out 'in the wild'. Let the free market produce this stuff at scale, it still ends up where I want it to.

Honestly, the biggest issue to date though in dealing with the Reapers is the ever present threat of indoctrination. Maybe a short five minute walk next to it might not be enough to do anything, but working day in and out next to any working piece of Reaper technology was risky. So risky, that it was probably the one thing keeping the researchers from making discoveries by leaps and bounds.

Some staffers on both Reapers have even had to be 'euthanized' for being suspected of indoctrination. Little things give it away, like thinking the Reapers are 'singing' to them, or thinking they are 'divine constructs', or just becoming 'histaric' after touching some exposed Reaper technology.

Thankfully, due diligence and strict protocols have been enough to nip most issues in the bud.

Or so I had assumed.

There was a special safehouse I had made in the lower depths of Nos Astra. It was one of the few places I could safely access my Broker Network. Easier than going to Hagalaz everytime i wanted to do something 'big' or 'official' as the Broker'.

It was about as large as a penthouse, filled to the brim with humming mainframes, loud air conditioning units to cool it all down, and behind enough barriers and armor to withstand a small nuke going off near it.

I groaned, looking at the time on the holographic display. It was really to late for me doing this, but I doubt I could sleep with the recent report that crossed my proverbial 'desk'.

Taking a sip of caffeine, I snuggled into an oversized chair at the center of the room.

"Glyph, start playback."

"Of course, ma'am. One moment, please."

A dozen screens flashed into existence. The largest of which hovered towards me, showing the still image of a lone Reaper corpse above a gas giant, it was covered in scaffolding with little stations around it.

"At 0402 Galactic Standard Time, the Behemoth Site declared a class one state of emergency; potential breach of Threshold Gate. All local security assets placed on alert, and security teams dispatched to Threshold Gate."

"At 0403 Galactic Standard Time, the emergency was upgraded to a class two two state of emergency; security teams encountered hostile individuals at Threshold Gate."

"At 0405 Galactic Standard Time, the emergency was upgraded to a class four state of emergency; containment failure. General evacuation order given to all staff."

"At 0410 Galactic Standard Time, the emergency was upgraded to a class five state of emergency; imminent loss of station control. Clean Slate contingency placed into full effect: all outgoing communications were cut, onsite transportation destroyed, station data uploaded to local black box, and all remaining staff euthanized via PPC-34 introduced into the air supply."

"At 0413, final life sign ceased; Clean Slate contingency successfully implemented."

"At 1102 Galactic Standard Time, asset X-04 arrives in the system with clean up teams. Situation reported as-"

I skip through the report a bit, passing the nitty gritty of the timetable to the stuff I really wanted to see; the helmet cams and comms. Six different screens popped up, one for each of the squad being sent in.

"-moment, venting the gas now," an agent in the recording commented, his pov showing him working on his omni-tool. A soft thump sound echoed in the background. "Venting complete."

"Actual, this is Cleaner One, we're about to enter the station,"

the leader noted, already gesturing for the first agent to start opening the door. The hologram on it goes from bright red to green.

"Copy that, Cleaner One," another voice in. "Be advised that Clean Slate protocols are in full effect. Terminate any surviving contacts on sight."

"Including essential staff?"

"Essential staff included."

"Copy that."

The door cracked open, sliding out of the way for the heavily armed team to enter.

"Drone, search pattern," another agent ordered. A small tray sized mech flew past the squad and bathed the hallway in a scanning green light. It illuminated numerous corpses all piled around the door.

"Actual, commencing sweep of the station. Will mark points of note on nav-"

Not what I wanted to see either.

I sped the footage up, the squad proceeding through the abandoned station at a breakneck speed; from my perspective anyway. Lots of empty hallways lined with corpses, nearly all contouring in quite painful ways.

They secured the black boxes, marked down all the places where bodies were for recovery teams to pick up, and finally reached the all important Threshold Gate; the sole connecting area into the Reaper's interior.

When the footage slowed down to 'normal' speed, my blood went cold at the very first frame of the feed.

"Actual, we've found several unknown devices at the Threshold Gate. They look like some sort of spikes."

"Spikes?"

"Yes, spikes. They're all on some tripod-like device. Each one has a body on it, impaled through the gut. The bodies look…altered," the agent angled his camera closer to the scene. "Desiccated, with visible cybernetic alterations."

"...Stand by Cleaner One."

While the squad's handler was no doubt trying to figure out what the hell they were looking at, I certainly knew what they were.

Dragon's Teeth.

They may not have the name yet, but that is what they were. And seeing as how there were already bodies atop the spikes I braced myself for the inevitable.

"Must have come from the dreadnought's interior," an agent commented, keeping a few meter distance between himself and the reaper tech. "Dragged out by the compromised staff."

"Don't touch it."

"Like hell I'm touching anything in here. But you gotta wonder why'd they do this?" The ambient chatter almost made the inevitable all the more horrifying.

"Drag these things in here in the first place or impale bodies on them?"

"Both. Maybe the ship's signal cooked their brains? I mean, if a normal dose of it makes you go crazy, imagine what overdoing it can do."

"You can say that again. I've seen cults less fucked up then this."

"Wait a minute. If everyone died from the gas, who was even here to put them all- Shit!"

All the helmet cameras whipped to the spike as it suddenly retracted back into itself. The body slid off the spike and rolled onto the ground; twitching.

"It's moving!"

"He was alive!?"

"Look! The others!"

True to the agent's words, the other spikes began to move as well. Retracting into their shells and depositing their bodies on the ground.

With low, barely audible groans, the newly made husks clambered to their feet and threw themselves at the agents. Each husk moved with all the grace of a drunk, employing not an ounce of tactics in their attack. Even calling it an 'attack' was a bit much. It was more like a horde of zombies charging, nearly tripping over their own legs as they moved.

"The hell are those things?"

"Weapons free! Weapons free!"

It wasn't a fight, not really.

Bursts of gunfire ripped through each husk. Without even the decency of a barrier, in spite of their cybernetic alterations, they went down like any other person charging a gunline. Not that it made the situation any less tense.

"Cleaner team, we've detected gunfire at the threshold, what's your status?"

"Unknown hostiles encountered at the Threshold Gate! They-"

I paused the recording, I didn't need to see anymore.

I already read the after action report. They encountered several more husks, racing out from the Reaper itself, dealt with all of them, sealed the Threshold Gate, suffered no casualties, and cleared the way for recovery teams to start taking out the bodies.

Hence why I now have a morgue filled with over twenty husk corpses under armed guard.

Redundant for the agents to guard the corpses? Certainly, but I'll give them the benefit of the doubt since said corpses were husks impaled on spikes in hard vacuum when they 'came back to life' as the report so eloquently states.

Reading that they found husks was one thing, but seeing it…

"...Fuck," that was all I could really say as I leaned back in my seat. I rewound the video to the first sight of the husks charging, focusing on the empty electric blue 'eyes' of the husk in the stilled image.

Ten years, barely an issue. The odd indoctrinated staffer here or there, but that's expected when dealing with Reapers.

And then everything goes to shit.

I sent some messages to the Leviathan staff telling them to cease all their tests for the immediate future and secure their research materials for inspection; just to make sure everything was fine and dandy on their end.

I wasn't going to stop researching the Reapers. I couldn't at this point. Too many resources were already poured into this, and they were too tempting a gold mine of tech to just ignore. I was hardly going to go full 'use reaper tech outright', but my hope is that reverse engineering weapons and other tech could give the Galaxy an edge when the Reapers arrive.

But of all the weapons and tech, indoctrination was the most deadly. It was silent, invisible, and completely unnoticeable until it was too late.

It was, simply put, the greatest weapon in the Reaper arsenal. And there was simply defense to it beyond distance.

"A supreme weapon is only supreme until it meets a supreme defense," as Patriarch would say if he heard me right now.

The only way to find a 'supreme defense' would be to find out how to block out that Reaper signal that induces indoctrination. But the only way to do that would be to intentionally indoctrinate people and study the effects of various types of shielding or interference and try to figure out who stays normal and gets indoctrinated.

I guess I could just brute for the answer. Just roundup people and have group after group subjected to it until one method results in no indoctrination. But even ignoring the ethics, how would I guarantee that the people aren't just getting slowly indoctrinated from a false positive?

Ughh…

Frustrated, I spun my chair around on its swivel.

If I only knew how the Protheans were able to just scan a room for indoctrinated people, then we could at least start moving forward with anything to stop it.

Wait…

My foot stopped the spinning as I had an epiphany.

Prothean VIs, at least by the end of their war with the Reapers, were able to just scan people for that.

Like Vigil on Ilos.

Or Vendetta on Thessia.

Vigil was out of reach since I had no idea where the Mu relay was, and Vendetta was smack dab in the middle of one of Thessia's biggest tourist locations; to say nothing of the Asari government agents watching that sight like hawks for even the slightest hint that someone might know the have a Prothean beacon there.

I highly doubt they would just let someone wander in and ask the VI a few questions anyhow. At best, whoever I sent to do it would 'disappear' and never be heard from again, at worst they find out the Shadow Broker knows about the beacon and I have to deal with Asari commandos on Hagalaz in the near future.

So back to square one…

…but VIs can also be copied onto data storage devices. I wouldn't need to 'speak' to it, merely copy it.

But then it's the same problem, lack of access to it.

…

…

But what about someone who does have access to it?

And I know at least one person who has that sort of connection.

But… asking her for help would be super big no-no for 'canon'; that all important railroad that guarantees victory against the Reapers. Sure I've messed around with things already, but going to her for help could set off all sorts of butterflies and things in the future.

If that happens, all bets on any sort of victory, even pyrrhic, are off.

…

…

But I guess… In for a penny….

"Glyph," the VI's avatar popped up next to me.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Pull up all the information the Network has on Benezia T'Soni."

Benezia loved her daughter, she truly did. She was a brilliant young girl who was going to change the Galaxy.

Maybe every mother thinks that about their girls, but how many can claim their daughters are pursuing their doctorates at fifty-six!

At her age, Benezia was more concerned with her secondary school's yearly dance and the latest fashions or art exhibits. The very thought of college, undergrad at that, felt like a century away.

Despite being a young maiden, Liara was far wiser and more mature than her peers; understanding patience and diligence to a degree many would struggle for decades to achieve.

In other ways, she was about on par with said peers; especially when it came to knowing one's limits.

"Good morning, Liara," Benezia almost sighed at the sight of her daughter. She was slouched over the kitchen table, a datapad in each hand with a dozen more scattered about.

"Good morning, mother," Liara replied, her exhausted eyes never leaving her datapads. Three empty cups were stacked atop one another.

"Should I be concerned you are in the exact same place I left you last night?" She had said good night to Liara a little before ten at night, only to return nine hours later with the girl still hunching over her datapads.

"I was sitting in the other chair last night, mother," Liara 'corrected' her, putting a pad down to rapidly type something on her terminal.

"Liara…"

"And I went to my room for a few hours when I needed to cross reference Dr. Tildan's precursor research with Matriarch Yvraine's writings."

"That is not the issue Liara," Benezia walked over to the girl, trying to shoo away a pad from her hand. "You need to rest."

"I am not tired, mother," even as her eyes had heavy bags beneath them.

"You're a growing girl that needs her sleep."

"I rested my eyes several times last night."

"Proper sleep."

"This is important," the girl let out a frustrated huff. "The final exams are the culmination of all my years at university. A slip up on my part could ruin all of that."

"Your exam is in a week," Benezia spied a pair of her disciples at the kitchen threshold, the girls doing their best to not appear too obvious in their gawking. "And you are already ranked first in your class."

"Exactly, I only have a week to study," Liara reached for a cup, only to put it down when she realized it was empty. "I'll rest eventually, just… not now."

"So, you'll rest after you've finished your studies today?"

"Yes mother."

"And by rest, it would be proper rest, correct? Not just closing your eyes."

"Yes, mother," her eyes never left her screens, fingers racing across the display. She was not truly listening to her.

Well, in that case…

"And…you'll resume those dance classes you quit in your twenties?" Benezia questioned, knowing just how her daughter was going to respond. "The ones you complained about, and swore you'd never do again."

"Yes, mother."

"And you will drop out of all your classes at Serrice?"

"Yes, mother."

"And you'll help me throw away all your Prothean history books?"

"Yes, mother."

"Liara, you are not listening to me."

"Yes I am, mother."

"Then what did I just say?"

"You said I…oh," the sudden realization finally broke the girl from her haze. She groaned, rubbing the ridge of her nose. "Perhaps… perhaps some rest in order."

"Some rest?"

"No more than an hour," she shook her head, as if debating with herself. Her fingers danced across the interface saving her progress. "I don't need any more than that."

"Of course," Benezia noticed her daughter grabbing something from the table. "And you'll leave your terminal and datapads in the kitchen?"

"...yes mother," the girl put down the pads she had already scooped up, organizing them into neat piles. "I apologize for the mess, I'll clean it up after I rest."

"Don't worry, they will still be there when you return," she pulled her daughter into a short hug before letting the drowsy maiden shuffle out of the room. She listened to Liara's footsteps as they left the kitchen, followed by the soft chime of her bedroom door closing.

The matriarch shook her head at her daughter's antics, wondering if Liara's stubbornness came from her or Aethyta. Probably both, her bondmate would have joked.

"Shiala," Benezia called to one of the disciples that watched the 'encounter'.

"Yes, Mistress?" The young woman did her best to sound innocent and circumspect.

"After she's asleep, could you please go into her room and disable whatever alarm she set," Liara was going to get a proper rest one way or another.

"Of course, Mistress," the matriarch heard a faint giggle as the disciple bowed and wandered off.

As Benezia sighed, taking in the morning sun, filling a cup of water for her tea, her omnitool chimed, an incoming call to her personal number.

"Yes, what is it?" she answered, trying to decide which flavor to-

"Good evening Lady Benezia. Or is it 'good morning'?"

Benezia's blood went cold from the crisp, almost monotone, on the line.

"Who is this?" Benezia pulled up the ID, getting lines of gibberish of numbers and letters.

"I am the Shadow Broker," the other person replied, their voice clearly filtered through a number of programs.

"I..see," Benezia quickly typed out a message on her omni-tool for her disciples to trace the call. Random calls do not just come through her personal line.

"Oh? Is that doubt I hear in your voice?"

"Consider it healthy skepticism," she cooly replied, her centuries of training keeping her genuine concern out of her voice. "But I assume the only one capable of finding my personal line would be someone with such reach."

"Ah, the good old, 'if that's what you want me to think' counter," That got a chuckle out of the caller. "Fair enough. I suppose I should expect that. Not that it really matters I suppose."

"No, it doesn't," she agreed. "So, do you wish to continue with pleasantries or would you rather arrive at the point of this call? I have more important things to do today then speak to some thug over the comms."

"Thug? I take offense at that, Lady Benezia," from his tone, it sounded like he could barely keep his chuckles down. "Besides, If you really didn't want to talk to me, you would have hung up by now. Have I intrigued you that much in the few seconds we've talked, or are you just keeping this line open so you can try and trace this call back to wherever I am?"

Benezia let silence be her answer.

"Alright then, I suppose I'll put my cards on the table first," Benezia heard the squeaking of a chair on the other end of the line as the caller adjusted himself. "I want to discuss a mutually beneficial arrangement."

"Oh? Are you going to ask for some state secrets in exchange for some favor in the future? Or is this a threat to release some 'damning' information on my part if your requests are not met?"

A message popped up on her omni-tool's screen. Her disciples were having difficulty tracing the caller.

"Oh I already have those, state secrets that is. Chief among them being the Prothean Beacon the Asari government is hiding in the Temple of Atheme on Thessia; which you are also aware of."

Benezia felt the room spin at those words, she had to grab onto the counter to stay upright.

The greatest secret in the Asari Republics, if not the Galaxy, said as casually as one remarking on the weather.

How could someone, anyone, know about that….?

Unless…

"Lady Benezia? Are you still there, or did you actually hang up on me?"

"Who are you, really?"

"I already told you, I am the Shadow Broker. You were the one who doubted my identity."

"...So you did," of all the people to learn of the beacon's existence it just had to be a criminal. "And I assume you want something from me to keep this quiet?"

And not turn the whole Galaxy against the Republics went unsaid, and be forever known as the greatest hypocrites in Galactic history.

"Not exactly. Lady Benezia, I am sending you some files you may find very interesting."

"Do I have a choice in looking at them?" a notification popped up in her inbox. A large file from an address of numbers and letters.

"Like I said, you will find them interesting. Just humor me, please."

Fidgeting in place, she opened the file and began reading. She read, and read, looking over the images and watching the short video clips attached. A pit formed in her stomach as she read and took it all in. The more she read, the more horrified she became.

Minutes passed in silence as she finished the files.

To most, it would be a horrifying find of paleotechnology. Some ancient horror brought into the modern day. The sort of things that bordered on the fantastical.

To her, with her access, she knew better, and was more terrified of it.

"Where did you find them?" she finally asked, her voice almost a whisper.

"You know what they are already? That saves us some time."

"Where?!"

"The first was found in Batarian space, the other in the neither is 'dead', they're not fully operational either."

"Do you," Benezia tried to find the words, "do you have any idea what you are dealing with?"

"The fact that I am calling you about your government's secret Prothean VI that holds vast amounts of information regarding the Reapers should imply that yes, I know what these things are and how dangerous they can be. More to the point, how insidious they can be."

"The Reapers, their ships, their technology, it's evil," she almost hissed the words out. What other conclusion was there to draw from all the Atheme archives held on them and the files sent by the Broker.

"Their ships and technology?" even through the filtering she could hear the faintest hint of genuine surprise. "Oh dear, it seems you don't know everything, or are willfully ignorant."

"I am not ignorant to what their ships and technology are capable of."

"Reaper ships are Reapers," the Broker explained. "A race of two kilometer tall starship sized machines."

"That's…"

"Preposterous?"

"It was supposed to be a…," she echoed the words of one of the researchers she spoke with on what the Reapers were, 'clarifying' a misunderstanding in the data. "...a mistranslation."

"I can assure you, if the VI spoke about them being massive starships that can indoctrinate entire planets and blacken entire worlds with their numbers, there is no mistranslation."

"...what do you want?"

"I need your help."

"My help?"

"Yes, I need you to get me a copy of the Prothean VI your government has."

"And why would I betray the greatest asset of the Asari Republics to do that?"

"To save the Galaxy," the Broker stated. "The Reapers are not some long forgotten threat from the past, they are a genuine, modern, threat we must be ready to face. When they return, and they will return soon, we are not talking about the end of governments or societies, we are talking about the extinction of every intelligent race in the Galaxy. Just like what happened to the Protheans fifty thousand years ago, and to every Galactic civilization that came before them."

The answer caught her off guard. It also had a chilling similarity to her daughter's research paper; though that was merely bringing attention to the cycle of extinction not claiming to know the cause.

"What proof do you have that this Galactic extinction event will even happen? A pair of derelict ships is hardly proof of an imminent apocalypse. Do you have anything other than your own words?"

"Me? Nothing. But you have something to confirm my warnings."

"That being the VI?"

"The very same. If you need any confirmation, go to the VI and just ask it to confirm everything I've said. I assume you still have the necessary clearance to access the VI?"

"I do," why did she even answer him? What purpose did it serve?

"Then go to it, ask it whatever questions you have. When you have all your answers, contact me and we'll go from there."

"You're assuming I would work with you and not simply tell the Matriarchs about this if it's true?"

"You could, but even assuming the Matriarchs believe you and don't just try to ignore this as mad ravings I would like for you to keep two things in mind. The Matriarchs of the Republics have kept this secret from the Galaxy for thousands of years so the asari could maintain a technological edge over the other races, and even if they chose to act on the Reaper threat do you really think they wouldn't just prioritize the Asari's protection over the galaxy?"

Benezia… couldn't answer that.

Not because she didn't know the answer, but because it terrified her.

"The Republics are important to the Galaxy, but the Galaxy as a whole is far more important than the Republics," the Broker continued. "If you work with me, I can promise you that I will do all in my power to ensure that all races, the asari included, survive the coming storm. After all, it's the reason I replaced the previous Broker a few years ago, to have the influence to make a difference."

"You replaced the Shadow Broker?" There had been murmurings by the other matriarchs about the Broker's changing priorities of late, but to hear the cause said aloud…

"Well you know what they say, everyone has to start somewhere," the Broker chuckled. "Good day, Lady Benezia, this has been a pleasant conversation. I hope you will be in touch. My info is in the file. Just reach out to me at that address and we'll see what we can do. For the sake of all life in the Galaxy, I hope you'll take up my offer."

The call ended before she could question him further.

Benezia sat alone in the kitchen for some time. An hour? Two? She didn't know. She spent all that time processing everything said, and reading over the Broker's files once more. That pit in her stomach only grew the more she mused about it.

But she would not be rash. She could not afford to be rash. If those stakes were truly as high as the Broker said then…

She made arrangements later that morning to go to the Temple of Atheme later that night.

She would get her answers from the source.

AN: Guess who's not getting indoctrinated this time around! I mean, a lot of people are (and a lot who get 'euthanized' for it) but I can name on Matriarch who that won't happen to!

Butterflies, butterflies everywhere~

Also, am I the only one who just realized Liara must have gotten a PhD in her fifties for her comment of 'fifty years' of studying Protheans to make sense? Cause that's insane.