by Cole Price
The panic room looked like a comfortable study, complete with a fireplace and dark wood paneling on the walls. We paused just inside the inner door, watching Elijah Khan as he sat quietly, his back to us, apparently staring into the flames.
“Khan, we’re not here to threaten you,” said Shepard. “We need to talk.”
The figure did not move, only sat there silhouetted against the firelight.
After a moment I moved forward, put a hand on the back of Khan’s chair, and turned it so he faced the others.
“What the hell?” gasped Brooks.
Khan was clearly dead, shot in the chest at point-blank range with a small-caliber sidearm.
“Well,” I said. “I see this conversation will be strictly one-sided.”
Shepard frowned, glaring from under his brows. At Brooks.
She didn’t see it, hurrying to Khan’s desktop to tap at the computer console. “There’s a deletion order on the terminal.”
“Damn it!” Shepard rushed forward to look for himself.
“Everything’s been wiped,” said Brooks, stepping back to give him access. “I don’t know if it was him, or the killer.” She gasped. “Was it me? Did I screw this up?”
Shepard ignored her, his face set in determination, working with the console.
“What are you looking for?” she asked at last.
“Mistakes,” he growled. A moment more, and then he stepped back with a nod of satisfaction. “Thought so. Whoever did this had to be quick. They wiped the terminal, but not the comm records.”
“Oh! So we can take the comm back to the safe house to scan it, or . . .”
“Or we could do this,” said Shepard, touching a key.
The big screen on the wall behind Khan’s desk came to life. We saw only a blurred, distorted image, but the voice was relatively clean this time, the distortion not nearly as bad.
“Elijah. Come crawling back?”
I frowned. The voice sounded familiar somehow. Not so much the pitch or intonation as the rhythm, the choice of words.
Brooks opened her omni-tool, apparently engrossed in some technical task. She must be tracing the call, I realized, and let her do it without interference.
“Guess again,” said Shepard, folding his arms in his unconscious threat-gesture.
“You.” We couldn’t see facial expression, but the mysterious enemy clearly recognized Shepard, and held him in contempt. “I see you’ve recovered from flopping on the floor like a fish.”
“Name a time and a place. Or you could hide behind voice disguisers for the rest of your life.”
“You’re trying to rattle me, so I slip up.” We could see a movement, as if he was shaking his head. “You have nothing. All you can do is wait for the hammer to fall.”
“Bring a bigger hammer. Your last try was inadequate.”
The other was silent for a long moment. Then: “I’m going to take everything you have, and everything you are.”
Silence. The call had been cut off from the other end.
“Damn it!” exclaimed Brooks. “There wasn’t enough time to trace the call, Commander. I’m sorry.”
Shepard nodded, not paying her much attention. “That’s okay, Brooks. I’m sure you did everything you could. Liara, pull the data drives from Khan’s computer. We’re not finished yet.”
“The ones that got wiped?” Brooks shook her head. “You really think we can find anything?”
“With EDI, anything’s possible. The sooner we get the drives to her, the sooner we can track down this threat.”
* * *
We spent about thirty minutes exfiltrating from the casino, taking multiple aircars back to Admiral Anderson’s apartment so that we would not be too obvious. Shepard slipped Khan’s data drives to Garrus, and ordered Brooks to return to the apartment with him and James. Shepard, Nerylla, and I departed last, climbing into our aircar in another blaze of flash photography.
“Well, that was fun,” I said as soon as our aircar took off. “Although not so much for the host.”
Shepard said nothing, his jaw grimly set.
“What’s the matter, love?”
“Brooks,” he said.
I cocked my head at him, waiting.
“I’m getting a red alert,” he said, tapping at the back of his head. “Right about here.”
“You suspect she’s not to be trusted?”
“You could say that. None of us have ever seen her before. She shows up just as this whole thing is starting. She turns out to be very helpful, making pertinent suggestions at critical moments, all while looking ditzy and useless.” He turned to stare into my eyes. “It’s interesting to notice how many of her suggestions would actually make our investigation harder, rather than easier. Then there’s the way that Khan turned up dead just at that point. Very damned convenient, for someone.”
“Are you suggesting that Brooks killed Khan?” I shook my head. “How? She went in the panic room the same time we did, and he was already dead.”
“Sure about that? We didn’t know she was ready to go in until she called us. What if she had already slipped inside, just long enough to kill Khan and wipe his computer?”
I frowned. “Nerylla, did Brooks have a sidearm?”
“Not that I saw, despoina.”
“Maybe she didn’t have one when she left the apartment,” said Shepard, “but she was out of our sight for over two hours. She could have picked one up at the casino.”
I thought hard, but try as I might, I couldn’t come up with anything conclusive to disprove Shepard’s suggestion.
“Just watch her, Liara. That’s all I’m asking.” Shepard faced front again, staring at the brightness of the Citadel’s cityscape as it swept past us. “Watch her.”
* * *
25 May 2186, Upper Kithoi Ward/Citadel
Midnight had passed before all of us returned to Admiral Anderson’s apartment. Almost at once, EDI found intact data structures on Khan’s drives. She began to reconstruct several messages between Khan and his mysterious former partner. Once she finished, we gathered around the dining room table again to confer.
“Here we go,” said Brooks as the messages began to scroll in a holographic display, hovering above the table. “Wow. Those mercs who are after you? Khan has been selling them weapons. A lot of weapons.”
“Including Atlas mechs,” said Ashley. “What do they need that kind of firepower for?”
“Maybe they’re using this ticket to bootstrap themselves,” suggested Garrus. “I’ve seen things like this before. Some new merc group starts up, looking for a way to escape being limited to small-time security work. They need battlefield-level armaments and logistical support to do that, and those can be pretty damn expensive.”
Shepard nodded. “So Cat-Six provides the muscle, but they need weapons and gear, and they hope to keep all of that when the job is done. Khan can provide weapons and gear, but he insists on being paid. Where does the money come from?”
“That would be our mysterious enemy,” I said. “That faceless individual we’ve been seeing. He’s the key to all this.”
Just then Glyph came soaring into our midst, flashing a red alarm signal and overriding the table’s holodisplay.
“Rrrh. It appears this drone is preparing to rebel,” said Javik.
“What is it, Glyph?” I asked.
“As you requested, Dr. T’Soni, I have been monitoring Commander Shepard’s personal codes. His Spectre access code has just been used at the Citadel Archives.”
“Punch it up,” ordered Shepard.
We saw a schematic of the Archives, spread out across the tabletop. Several sectors of the complex shone outlined in red, with more each moment.
“Something’s putting the Archives into lockdown,” said Brooks. “Whoever’s hacking your records must be there right now.”
Which suggests you want us to be there right now as well, I thought, exchanging a lightning-quick glance with Shepard.
“Wh
at do we know about the place?” he asked.
“Council keeps sensitive historical information there,” said Garrus. “Real hush-hush stuff, some of it. Even my old C-Sec clearance never got me into the secured stacks.”
Shepard nodded and turned away. “Then we’ll find our own way in. Gear up and we’ll . . .”
He stopped dead, just three steps away from the table, confronted by an apparition: a tubby little volus, holding out a broad, flat container of some kind.
“Uh, what’s with the volus?”
James cleared his throat. “Oh. Pizza delivery. I didn’t get a chance to eat at the casino, so I got the munchies.”
“Double pepperoni,” said the volus.
“These Archives are huge,” said Brooks, paying no attention to the possibility of junk food. “You’ll have a lot of ground to cover. Shame you can’t bring everyone.”
Unlike Brooks, I was in a position to see Shepard’s face. I saw the sly smile that crept across his features.
Yet another helpful-but-not-really suggestion, Brooks?
“Who says I can’t?” Shepard turned, grinned at all of us. “All hands on deck for this one.”
“Hell yeah!” James smiled, loudly cracking his knuckles. “How you want this set up, Commander?”
Shepard glanced around the room. “Teams of four. Liara and Ash will be with me, plus one of Liara’s people. We’ll set up fire-team Alpha.”
I caught Ashley’s eye and felt an unaccountable rush of excitement.
The three of us together again, for the first time since we fought Saren on board the Citadel. I think our enemy has reason to fear.
“Garrus, Wrex, EDI, you form fire-team Bravo,” he continued. “James, Javik, Brooks, you’re fire-team Charlie. One more asari commando with each. Joker, Cortez, you’re transport and logistics. Get the aircars ready and let’s saddle up.”
He turned away again. Saw the volus again, still waiting patiently.
“Oh. And somebody pay for the pizza.”
* * *
25 May 2186, Citadel Archives, Lower Kithoi Ward/Citadel
“So what’s the best way into the Archives?” asked Shepard.
“The facility is located below the Wards,” said Brooks. “Maybe a direct breach for maximum surprise?”
“I like it,” said Shepard, smiling genially to conceal his thoughts. “Sounds like you’re learning the ropes, Brooks.”
Cortez snorted. “Hell, hang out with us long enough, you’ll learn ropes, knives, bombs, thresher maws . . .”
“Don’t hang out too long, or pretty soon you’ll start accumulating extra asari,” rumbled Wrex over our tactical link.
“I heard that!” I complained.
We landed in a wide court at the very bottom of Kithoi Ward, tucked away among several industrial storage facilities. Fifteen of us emerged from a small fleet of aircars: six humans, four asari, a turian, a krogan, a Prothean, a synthetic mobile platform, and Glyph.
“The Archives are somewhere below us,” said Brooks, consulting her omni-tool. “It could be pretty tricky to get in there.”
“Not really,” said James, reaching back into his aircar and producing the first of several demolition charges.
Within minutes, we had blasted a great hole in the deck plating.
“Krogan first!” shouted Wrex as he leaped down into the gap. “See you at the party, princesses!”
I moved second, landing right beside the big krogan and earning a gaping smile of approval. Then, for a moment, it seemed to rain leather-clad asari commandos. Finally, the rest of our assault group followed. Once all of us arrived in the access space, Shepard divided us into our planned fire-teams and we began to advance on the Archives.
Vara referred to her omni-tool, where she had loaded a detailed schematic of the Archives complex. “Small antechamber just ahead and below us,” she whispered.
Teams Bravo and Charlie fanned out to either side. Shepard bent down and lifted a plate out of its frame, opening a gap through which he could leap down. I moved right behind him, Ashley and Vara mere seconds behind me. All of us looked around the chamber: an ordinary-looking office space, dominated by a large model of the Citadel itself, hanging from the ceiling.
Then, quite suddenly, we all began to glimmer with spots of ruby light.
I threw myself to one side. “It’s an ambush!”
“Not this again,” Shepard muttered. “Scatter and take cover!”
The chamber filled with gunfire. I peeked out of my concealment and saw black-clad mercenaries flooding into the room. More of the Cat-Six renegades. A lot more.
They knew we were coming.
“Hah!” barked Wrex from up on his balcony. “In the old days, we usually had at least five minutes before a mission went south!”
Shepard leaned out and fired his Claymore at one of the mercenaries. To little effect, as most of the blast scattered away from a dense kinetic shield.
“Shepard brought his whole team!” shouted one of the mercenaries.
“Box them in!”
I concentrated on staying alive. Our enemies moved quickly to flank us, so I couldn’t count on my cover remaining of any use. Things moved much too fast for me to take stock. I fired my Shuriken and threw biotic warps at black-armored people, trying to sort out the bulky human figures from the lithe asari ones.
Shepard stood and flash-charged across the entire space, smashing into a black-clad sniper. The mercenary recoiled, still standing for a moment, but then Ashley hit her with a concussive shot and took her down.
“Eulalalalia!” came a high-pitched shriek from the balcony above. Nerylla.
My acolytes proved horribly effective, setting up lift-warp combinations to smash the enemy. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought they even pulled Urdnot Wrex into their rhythm, detonating his biotic feats as well as their own.
“Damn! They brought asari commandos! Why don’t we have asari commandos?”
“The same reason you don’t have your own krogan, you pathetic varren,” came a deep roar.
A Cat-Six mercenary screamed as he plummeted off the balcony, landing on the floor before us with a very final thump.
“Brooks!” came Shepard’s voice over the comm. “You okay?”
“Upstairs! Scattering and taking cover!”
Another flash of blue-white light, as Shepard crossed the battlefield once more and smashed into a shield-carrying foe from behind.
“Enough!” came a great shout from above.
I glanced upward, and saw a bulky armored human, his forearm clamped around the throat of a smaller figure.
Brooks. He must have captured her in the firefight on the balcony. She struggled in his grasp, to no avail.
Shepard hesitated, just long enough for the enemy to seize their opportunity. They emerged from cover, far too many of them, covering all of us with their rifles.
“Put down your weapons, or this won’t end well for her!” the human shouted.
Goddess. That voice! Now that it isn’t covered by a distortion device . . .
“Yeah?” shouted Shepard. “Go ahead.”
“What?” screamed Brooks.
“Go ahead,” Shepard repeated. “Kill her. That won’t stop me from doing what has to be done.”
Silence from the balcony, except for the woman’s increasingly desperate struggle. I nodded to myself, understanding Shepard’s gambit.
“Of course, I’m betting you won’t do it,” he continued. “Either way, the ball’s in your court. I don’t give a damn, so long as you make up your mind.”
“All right,” said the mysterious figure. He threw Brooks to the ground before him, leveled his assault rifle, and fired a burst at her point-blank.
She shrieked, and then went utterly silent and motionless.
For a moment, I saw terrible doubt in Shepard’s face.
Were we wrong about Brooks after all?
“Damn you,” my bondmate said. “I don’t know what you think you’re getti
ng away with, but there’s nowhere you can run, nowhere you can hide that we won’t find you.”
“Hide?” said the enemy, and suddenly I knew where I had heard his voice before. He stepped forward into the light for the first time. “I’m Commander Shepard. I never hide.”
His shape, his face, all of it went with the voice.
It was Shepard. Like a brother. Like an identical twin.
“That’s unexpected,” I said in the sudden silence.
Chapter 36 : Night in the Stacks
25 May 2186, Citadel Archives, Lower Kithoi Ward/Citadel
The enemy leaped down from the balcony, taking up the shock of his landing with easy competence. He stood and strode forward, until he stood not quite within reach of a sudden lunge from Shepard.
The resemblance frightened me. Face and build seemed very close. Even I, intimately familiar with Shepard, had to look closely to spot physical differences: a scar missing, the bridge of the nose a little straighter, beard stubble more closely shaved. The enemy’s armor provided better clues, rougher, bulkier, and accented in blue rather than crimson.
On the other hand, the enemy’s body language and tone of voice seemed not at all alike. He projected arrogance and aggressive violence. Also something else I couldn’t quite identify, a lack of emotional maturity or discipline, almost a kind of petulance. Absolutely nothing like my bondmate.
Shepard frowned. “Who are you?”
“Let’s just say you weren’t the only Shepard that Cerberus brought back to life,” said the enemy. “At least one of us will finally do something with it.”
“All right. Where did you come from?”
“The same DNA as you.”
“A clone?” asked Ashley, incredulity in her voice.
“No, that can’t be right,” I corrected her. “Whoever this is, he’s clearly physically mature. Any full-body clone, started when Cerberus gained access to Shepard’s remains, would be little more than an infant now.”
