[Aranthos] Non-State Actors

The Operative's facade broke a little as the hatch opened - it was clear from that little, unguarded flash of relief that she'd been more than a little worried about the prospects of a quick spacing and a slow death by suffocation. Still, she wasn't entirely without situational awareness - she stepped through the hatch without any obvious sense of urgency, If Mirice noticed Shirin's little precautions, she didn't show it (although who would, in the circumstances?).

---

In the airlock, meanwhile, things were far less civilised.

The crew had been drifting through the Nebula for more than an Earth year, with only each other and twenty dead huskmen for company. No real food, no real heat, only cold water and cold nutripaste to subside off. If it hadn't been a lab ship, they'd probably have gone mad.

When they'd finally, finally been able to get a distress signal out and answered, it was only to find out that their entire organisation had been destroyed, root and branch. Their armies gone, their leader killed and their poisonous ideology hunted down across the entire galaxy.

...and now this.

The technicians shied away from the screech of Ana's omniblade against the glass, eyes darting around when she disappeared, as if they thought she'd suddenly appear inside the airlock like something from a slasher vid (Ms. Bompastor's only reaction was to drag her gaze away from Kirok and stare at Ana for the duration of her party trick, then back to the krogan).

The sight of food - real food, even if it was protein bars, because anything is better than nutripaste - got a more measured reaction. When Cerastes mentioned unarmed bathroom visits, for example, two of the Cerberus types put their weapons down straight away, thinking it was a condition for eating.

Sonia rolled her eyes, Amateurs, though the drell's comments about starvation elicited a silent nod.

And then all hell broke loose - that whistle, the Brood's sudden (and terrifying) appearance... Well.

As one, the three technicians who hadn't already dropped their guns dropped them, one going so far as to drop to his knees while another pair held up their hands in some silent, universal gesture of 'don't shoot us!'

Sonia was the only exception. Her rifle was collapsed and stowed securely before she gestured at her people to stand up and stand back.

If any of the Band could speak French, they'd probably learn some interesting new curses, but by the end of it, the Cerberus personnel were standing up and in a line, ready and waiting for that hatch to open.

---

Mirice, for her part, was nodding along to Shirin's explanation of their expected travel route.

They know what they're doing, at least, but... Thessian fish?

She didn't show any sign of discomfort at the slight - it was real food, at least - and kept on taking slow, small bites.

"That," the Operative finally said, pushing her plate away, "Was delicious. My compliments to your cook." A little smile.

"Before Cerberus? You're right, I was Alliance Intelligence Service. A career woman, at least until I got the call from Cerberus - back in those days, of course, we preferred to recruit agents from well-trained organisations, rather, than, well..."

Don't mention Sanctuary don't mention Sanctuary don't mention Sanctuary

"...overt recruitment, as it were." She took a small sip of water to cover the Worst Euphemism In History (TM), then continued. "So yes, Ms. Vedral - I might have been a professional double-crosser, but you can rest assured that I'd never ruin a business relationship."

Not least because of the state of her 'forces', such as they were.

"Might I ask the same question about yourselves? I gather that you must be former Primacy, Ms. Vedral, but Ms. Zhang, where were you recruited from?" Another sip of water. After a year of recycled, hyper-refrigerated H2O, this stuff was positively heaven.

The Brood had ensured one thing: there would be absolutely no disobedience. Not that Cerastes had particularly expected any; he saw all too well how frightened the humans were, all except for one. His eyes remained on Sonia, inspecting her for several seconds beyond what would be defined as 'comfortable' before he moved to open the latch.

One at a time, the Cerberus crew was let out to get their bar and take their fill of water. Knowing how important hydration was, Cerastes allowed them plenty of time to drink, and even let each individual take back an additional cup. On occasion, the drell would disappear from the room in order to refill a pitcher.

When he returned for the last time, he glanced to Kirok and Ana. "Better to treat them well and avoid problems than intimidate and encourage them," he said. "They're too hungry and shamed to do anything, as it is."

Too hungry and shamed was right - although it must be said that the mountain of krogan and the horde of varren didn't hurt.

Nor the threat of that biotic, wherever she was.

---

As each member came back through the airlock, protein bar and cup of water in hand, Sonia made sure to have a quiet, whispered word with each. Some got a reassuring touch on the arm or the shoulder, others got a quick joke and everyone got a quick interrogation about where each of the guards was and what they'd deduced about the lay-out of the ship.

Not that she expected any trouble - after all, what would be the point of feeding people you planned on killing, unless you were feeding them poison-

Or something else.

Cerastes, Kirok, Ana and even most of the Brood would doubtless notice that Sonia didn't drink anywhere near as much water as the rest of the technicians. Once back in the airlock, it was also pretty obvious that she was just nibbling at the bar, rather than stuffing it down her face like most of the Cerbies.

At the moment, Shirin was blessedly unaware that there were eleven varren on her ship. When she found out, she was almost definitely going to feed part of Kirok to them; for now, though, she was content to crunch another mouthful of the sauteed brain and study Mirice with thoughtful interest.

"Glad you enjoyed," she replied. "Apologies for not having something dogmatically appropriate. My snack's human - heh - but I doubt you'd be particularly interested in cervelle de veau, especially considering you've been going hungry. Perfectly willing to share, though, if your appetite persists." Eh, it was friendly enough. She didn't smile much - when she did, there was something about it that tended to disquiet people - and so this kind of overture could occasionally come off as a bit dour.

Ex-Primacy was a reasonable speculation, being as they filled most of their field operative roles with drell. Seeing her in action would probably dispel that theory, if Operative Mirice was as well-trained in identifying alien threats as Shirin assumed. "I'm Orozvhadi, actually. Former CCSAI. My father was Primacy trained, though, so you've got my lineage about half-pinned-down." As for Min, well...no reason to reveal anything she didn't want revealed. They could have their conversation about 'how we lost against the entire galaxy' in due time.

"Anyway, business. I'm sure you'd never dream of ruining our nascent relationship," the drell said, rather dryly. "Granted, you and yours would've gladly murdered us all a year ago, but in my line of work that's not really something we hold grudges over. Besides, I'm reasonably willing to hedge my bets as far as 'can we take you in a fight' goes."

Fun Fact: Shirin was not, in fact, willing to hedge her bets. She had standing contingencies for dealing with Mirice and the techs, dealing with one or the other in the event of a mutiny over cooperating with aliens, and dealing with Mirice, the techs, and Min in the event of betrayal - the last of which she was really hoping to not have to use, being as it was nice having friends for a change.

"So. As credits go, all we really need is fuel costs. What I'm particularly interested in is the intel I requested. Have you had a chance to look over the specifics that I sent you?"

Kirok's mouth turned up with distaste, but he didn't bother answering. Clucking under his tongue, the Brood perked their ears up, then fell in line behind him.

"Awright, git. KENNEL. KENNEL" he growled. They disappeared down the hallway like large, reptilian phantoms. Once they were out of site, Kirok turned to give Cerastes a good dose of yellow stink-eye.

"Don't see why we's botherin' bein' nice," Kirok rumbled, his voice an unhappy storm in the distance. "These fucks're cerbs. Playin' nice with 'em just seems like a waste. Keepin' 'em alive is all th' charity I gots room in m'hearts for 'em. Don't 'spect me t'have pity for 'em too."

Not that she minded her plate, but Thessian fish was never her cup of tea. Min's gaze floated to the walls around them for a moment. It was likelier than not that whatever was said here, there were a score of willing listeners. Hardly the best time for a Serious Discussion About Cerberus. A thin smile spread over her lips again.

"Nothing as noble as you, I'm sure." Min began. Her words came out measured. Careful. "I used to be a corporate infiltrator. Binary Helix. I'd get them their skeletons in the closet, they'd get me my paycheques."

That was reaching farther back than she usually cared to go. Still, her memory of it was as vivid as always. There was a lot she had to hand over for amnesty. Names, gear, money, lifestyles, but, well, the graybox wasn't one of them.

"Someone made me a better offer."

Her eyes didn't go to Shirin.

Kirok's words were followed by a slight, trembling tap on the inside of the inner hatch's window.

"Um, sorry to interrupt..." The man knocking looked like a stiff breeze would blow him over. "...could I please go to the bathroom? I think I drank too quickly..."

The poor guy looked nothing short of humiliated. One hand held his stomach in an attempt to ease the cramps.

---

"Mm. Nothing to apologise for, Ms. Vedral - I fear that even seeing another tube of nutripaste will make me throw up." Mirice even smiled, although it was hard to 'reminisce' about an ordeal that had ended less than an hour ago. "Orozvhadi?" An eyebrow was raised, but she nevertheless managed to rattle off "Safeguard and Obey" in passable warrior-caste. Sure, her accent was atrocious, but humans often had trouble with batarian dialects.

At the mention of Binary Helix, Mirice even gave a quiet laugh. "On Noveria? I've heard some stories about the cells there - all good, I assure you." The smile was all politeness, but there was a... calculating look in those eyes. As if she was weighing up Min's explanation, or else was using the 'Cerbie catch-up' talk as some kind of experiment.

But all was forgotten when the conversation returned to business.

Shirin's assertion about the Band's chances in the event of conflict was taken as granted and met with a slight, grudging nod. "Very well then, to business.

"You asked for information on Cerberus facilities in the Terminus, or otherwise outside of Council control, as I recall," her voice shifted into Boardroom Presentation Mode as she tapped away at her omnitool. "We've found, well, a couple of alternatives, but I can't offer much beside location and the deliberately-vague briefing notes, as it were. One hazard of the cell structure is that only one person knew about each and every cell, and, well-"

Dead.

"As it stands, there are a couple of options we can examine. Was there any particular field of research you were looking into, or is it a pure credits thing?"

Needless to say, Mirice was going to spend the night dreaming of flaying the Band alive for daring to trespass and steal Cerberus technology. But given the circumstances, she was more than happy to help. Ever the pragmatist, as it were.

Kirok just snarled through the window. He'd somehow expected the cerbs to have a bit more of a... spine.

"Hold on an' watch 'em," Kirok said, trodding down the corridor. "I'mma get 'em a bukkit."

"Yeah, that's not happening."

The white drell rolled his horrible eyes at the krogan, then headed over to the airlock and said to the men and women gathered inside, "The rest of you, move to the back of the room, hands on the wall. That's right. Alright, you - come forward. I'm going to open the door, we'll walk to the restroom, and I'll wait for you outside. Please don't think about doing anything stupid, you'll just shit yourself, and our mechanic is very particular about the cleanliness of the ship."

With that, the airlock door slid open.

A voice called out, just beyond the Cerberus agents’ field of vision – though the cloud of smoke made it obvious which direction it was coming from.

“Remember kids, we got a nice, big red button that says ‘Vent Airlock’ out here. Stick to the rules, and we won’t have to push it. And while we’re at it – hey, SIC, need something to wet your whistle out there?”

Yup. Well-studied, that one.

"We're interested in tech," Shirin began, pushing her saucer to one side. "Granted, what kind of tech depends on what's available. I'm in the acquisitions-and-resale business, so anything with serious resale potential would be our first interest. Granted, the stuff in question may have been cutting-edge a year ago, so unless it was extremely experimental, mainstream progress might've left it in the dust since then."

Her eyes never quite left Mirice. Occasionally, they'd flicker towards the scrolling data feed to her side, or linger partially on Min to see what she was doing, but by and large Shirin stayed on target. This could have meant she was watching actively for any suspicious behavior; on the other hand, it was just as likely that she was showing respect by giving the Operative her full attention and treating her as an equal worthy of consideration.

"So in light of that, if it isn't going to sell like mad, anything we could theoretically utilize would also be quite acceptable. Not just weapons, mind, but ship parts, networking tech, stealth gear, battlefield assets...you get what I mean."

She rested her chin on a hand, and the fused middle finger tapped against her lower lip exactly once.

"Basically, if you have a pre-war R&D facility lying around somewhere you can't get to - or can't fight your way into, for that matter - anymore, my associates and I would be interested in hearing about it. Danger is no object, trust me."

Between the threat of the airlock venting, the Brood coming back and, well, the prospect of watching one of their comrades 'fill the vase', as it were, the rest of the technicians needed no further encouragement. As one, they moved away from the 'trolley and over to the back of the airlock, hands against the wall, staring out into space.

Sonia hated it. The feeling of powerlessness, of humiliation, of turning her back on an enemy and waiting for them to blow her out into space.

But she complied. She wasn't suicidal, after all, and Mirice's instructions had been very clear - Endure.

Arda Turan, the toilet-bound technician, on the other hand, was the picture of relief. "Oh, thank you!" His right hand was held above his head as he stumbled out of the hatch, the left still pressed against his stomach. "Um. Which way is it?"

“Remember kids, we got a nice, big red button that says ‘Vent Airlock’ out here. Stick to the rules, and we won’t have to push it. And while we’re at it – hey, SIC, need something to wet your whistle out there?”

"Not until I see you drink from it first, asari."

Endure, yes. But nobody had said anything about being polite.

---

"Hmm. That might be a bit problematic, I'm afraid. Given the War, most of the R&D projects I was cleared for were centred on Reapertech, which I'm guessing you won't be interested in." Not only because of, well, cybernetic ghosts, but also because none of it worked any more. Mirice's eyes narrowed for a moment, fingers dancing over the haptic interface until a small smirk broke across her face. "I think this might be more up your alley, as it were. We called it Project Hummingbird."

Flipping the screen around to face Shirin and Min, Mirice had projected a map of what looked like a jungle-covered planet - Pragia.

"The facility is located in one of the mines set up by the original colonists. The blinks have forgotten about it, so the Skunkworks started prototyping their favourite pet projects there until the orders changed.

"The base should have been hermetically sealed but, well, Pragia. The planet's infested with very aggressive plantlife that might have over-run even our technology. But it should be worth it, if it's still undamaged." What Mirice failed to mention was the planet's reputation as a hideout for pirates, smugglers and the worst kinds of scum, the endemic weather and, indeed, the facility's cutting-edge security. The plants might have found a way in, but she'd be very surprised if the turrets, mechs and worse had shut down.

An array of schematics floated over the projection. Some sort of rifle? No, it was too big - even a krogan couldn't carry that easily.

"Have you ever wanted your own particle beam? I can't promise that the technology was finished, but there should be more than enough data to sell on to the highest bidder."

She very nearly managed to keep the bitterness from her voice as she finished that sentence. Nearly.

“D’awww, you should trust us more,” droned the asari, as she stepped into view with what looked like an inoffensive pitcher of water in one hand and what was clearly a shotgun in the other. “’Siiiiides, we’re only supposed to vent you if you get naughty in there, y’know?”

She palmed a form-fitting flask from the sleeve of her armor and started pouring the pitcher into it.

“Anywayyyyyy, spend some time cowin' before Mr. Eminent Domain, and we’ll have your little Reaper-integrated pussies ready to take over the universe in no time flat, dig? Oh, and, uh, dunno why you wanted me to drink this first,” she added, taking a quick sip from the flask. “I mean, if it’s Thessia-grown, eezo’s gonna tear your insides apart either way. Silly thing about asari food and drink, most humans never seem to remember it. But I’m sure you thought of it, right, Cerbie gurl?”

She screwed the top back on the flask and twiddled it in front of the glass, grinning.

Cerastes, meanwhile, was doing his 'duty' by escorting the Cerb off to the restrooms. As he walked, he flicked a screen up from his omnitool and started doing... something, god knows what. It looked very mysterious.

"Five minutes," he said to the human.

A particle cannon did sound nice. She could think of some interesting uses for it, particularly when combined with the prototype they'd liberated from Lobster Head. Even if it wasn't finished, they had options - get someone to finish it, or failing that, sell what they had. Most corps were reasonably amenable to proof of concept type projects, particularly if they had interesting potential for field applications.

Still, there was always a catch. Although Shirin had never been to Pragia, she knew it by reputation - an overgrown wreck of a world, swarming with criminals and, more importantly, all kinds of hazardous wildlife. The criminals were not so much of a problem - hell, she was technically one of them now - they could be bought, reasoned with, intimidated if need be. Man-eating plants and giant mutant insects, not so much.

In addition, there was the facility itself to consider. Any research complex built in so dangerous and hostile an area would need first-rate defenses, and probably be damned difficult to find on top of that. The latter could be dealt with via their "seller's" intel, the former...that'd take some work.

Fortunately, putting in work was what Shirin, and her employees for that matter, excelled at.

"I think that sounds reasonable," the drell rumbled, staring down Mirice unmercifully. "We can handle the retrieval process, as long as you give us a location. And anything else you might happen to know about the facility, although the gods only know we have a history of effectively solving unexpected problems. Mei, any input?"

While the cerbie did his business, Kirok lurked in the back of the hallway like a statue, glaring at the rest of the group with a distrusting eye and an itchy trigger finger. He couldn't believe they were taking pity on these weak, useless, racist, idiotic wastes of flesh.

Cerberus. Feh. He remembered escaping from Omega in a hail of weapons fire and chaos, dragging Sil and Cal along while dodging bullets and watching his home go up in smoke. Granted, Kirok was old enough to know that nothing was permanent; homes come and go, as do friends, as does pretty much everything else. But it was still mighty irritating to have to deal with it, and insulting to have it done by a bunch of soft-skinned, jack booted, husk-worshipping, mentally incompetent thugs.

His eye twitched as he looked at them now, nibbling on protein bars like vermin as they huddled in the airlock. Bent, broken, beaten. The universe had decided Cerberus was unfit, and yet these individuals were still hanging on. Worse, he was being forced to coddle them, like children, when the smart thing to do was to wipe them out and be done with it.

He could already hear Shirin's voice in his head; That's very krogan thinking, the voice said, a sonic burr in his mind. But we are being paid to keep them here, and it isn't forever. So do your job or I'll castrate you.

The krogan's face soured. The things he did for the kid. One of these days, he'd have to have a talk with her, maybe tell her a few more stories about her pappy, maybe set some things straight.

In the meantime, Kirok glowered at the huddled soldiers, hoping, praying that they'd give him an excuse to open the airlock and let them be swallowed by the cold void of space.

Behind her helmet, Sonia's eyes flicked back and forth between the bitch of an asari and the mountain of a krogan. God almighty but I hate them. All of them.

The only sign of her tension was the tightening of one hand around her protein bar, the 100% artificial colours and flavouring leaking out the open end. "Laugh it up, asari. I heard what happened to your homeworld - so much for being the galaxy's finest warriors."

Not the most cutting of comebacks, certainly, but all of the Cerbs could feel that Big Red Button hanging over them like the Sword of Damocles.

---

"The location will be given once we've landed at Illium," Mirice replied, apparently unfased by Shirin's stare. Sure, part of her lizard brain (if you'll pardon the pun) would always cower when something so alien looked at her like that, but she didn't show any real reaction. Then again, if she could argue that 'Sanctuary was necessary' with a straight face, it'd take a lot to rattle her. "But I'm more than happy to answer your other questions.

"I should warn you that the facility is likely to be guarded. Not by integrated, but more conventional means - the Skunkworks always excelled at programming combat VIs, and our mechs were designed to be durable. I can't offer specifics, but I'd expect concealed turrets and, well, make sure to scan everything before you touch it." Was there a hint of pride there?

Mirice took a sip of water with her non-glowing hand, leaning back in her chair (which was, she had to admit, much comfier than she probably had any right to expect) with the air of a jovial professor.

A few keywords registered with Min. Pragia. Skunkworks. All of which she were very far from unfamiliar with. Nothing specific, of course. It was never anything specific. You only really knew what you needed to know in Cerberus. But all that research that she was stealing off the Peaks was going somewhere, and the smart money was on Skunkworks. And she had to admit, there were little but fond memories she had for them. It seemed like there was a new toy, a new gadget, a new tool that made its' way into her hands every month or so. Everything that you needed or wanted in being another person, and then some. It was a bit like being spoiled, and making due without those conveniences was much harder to get used to than she would have preferred. In that regard, there was a very basic part of Min's brain practically salivating over this new toy. Probably the bits closest to the silicon in her brain.

As for Pragia, well, she knew enough.

Min pursed her lips - running through exactly what Mirice had just told them. Trying to figure out what she left out. If anything. There was only so much you could expect from a source like this, after all. To Shirin's question, she had only a few words to offer.

"Not at this moment, no."

A steely gaze on Mirice.

"That's only fair."

It was also eminently sensible. Had Mirice simply handed over the location on the spot, Shirin would have been content to space the rest of the Cerberus, put eight rounds in their guest of honor, and call it a night. There were plenty of taboos about hospitality and honorable conduct in some reaches of space, but Shirin was a spy. She had very few compunctions about taboos of any sort.

Case in point, she thought, taking another bite of the cervelle. "We'll be cautious with the countermeasures. I have a little firsthand experience with Cerberus mechs, and you guys built those things to work. I'm pretty sure if you'd gone publicly-traded and jacked Hahne-Kedar's market, you'd be ruling the galaxy by now." A shrug. "Then again, humanity's basically doing that as it is, so."

There were two pieces left, but her appetite was thoroughly sated at this point, and the drell left her plate where it was. "All right. You can relax for the rest of the trip, Ms. Mirice. The ship I chartered for you at Illium's a civilian vessel, not really well-equipped for fighting - feel free to hijack it or whatever once we're out of each other's way. You and your team are safe as long as you're on my ship. Granted, my people are almost definitely taunting yours as we speak, but one, they do that to everybody, and two, your boys are grown-ass terrorists, I'm sure they'll survive."

Rising from the table, she nodded politely to the humans.

"If you'll excuse me, ma'am, I have to talk to a man about a prison break. Unrelated, for the record. Ms. Zhang, I'll just leave you to entertain our guest. Mm?"

"Sure, sure."

With Shirin having excused herself, Min appeared to be a little more caught up in her omni-tool than their guest, idly tapping away the haptic interface. After a few moments of silence, her expression broke again, and she offered Mirice a small smile. All the while, her eyes danced from one wall to the next.

"Alright, had to sort something out. Privacy." Her eyes went around the room again, hoping to make her point. Eyes were everywhere. Although what she was more concerned about was ears. There was nothing she could do about eyes unless she wanted to tap over the cameras, but she wasn't confident that no one was listening in. Not when she hadn't seen that quarian since they'd fled Noveria. But sound? That, she could kill. Min leaned back into her chair, all of a sudden at a loss for words again. Everything she prepared for this talk, and she still hadn't figured out where to start. Or even if she should. Fighting off an urge to chew her lip, she cleared her throat and spoke up.

"Xiao Min." She finally said. "You're the second person I've told that to in... a week. That's my name. I guess I'm not great at secrets lately."

It trailed off a bit.

"Let me start again." Another pause - a moment to figure out how best to say what she was about to say. "I'm, uh, an ex-Cerberus asset. Former subversive."

Min left out defector. She never liked the word. It had too much baggage. It didn't matter who you defected to, or from, or why, it just looked ugly. Made you out to be self-interested, cowardly, untrustworthy, and traitorous.

Not that all of that wasn't true, but, well. Nothing she liked to remind herself of.

"So... nice to meet you."

Smooth.