[Aranthos] Non-State Actors

Meanwhile...


Ana’s response was a dry, hacking laughter that sounded so diseased that one could almost hear the alveoli stripping themselves from her lungs.

“Laugh it up, human,” she retorted, doing a fairly good job of matching Sonia’s tone. “I heard what happened to your homeworld – so much for being the bright light of the galaxy – oh c’mon, kid, I worked my way onto Thessia’s no-flys over a century ago. Fuck, I shack with him—”

At this point, she very nearly slapped Kirok’s left bicep – at which point some reptilian survival instinct gushed out from nowhere and reminded her how hard a Tuchankan fist to the skull felt. Instead, she raised a finger, opened her mouth a moment, and cleared her throat.

There was an awkward pause.

Ana waggled the flask in front of the door, her eyes looking meaningfully at Sonia. The drink splashed merrily inside. She waggled it again and again, leaning in on the transparent barrier, her eyes widening.

Kirok merely glowered through the window. He kept glancing at the big, candy-red EJECT ATMOSPHERE button next to the airlock door.

Oooooh, why did they make it red? Red made it SO TEMPTING.

Somewhere deep inside Mirice, something unwound. She hadn't known that Shirin was a drell before meeting her, so it was sheer paranoia that led her to mislabel the map. Luck, as it turned out, was on her side - if the Band had decided to space her crew and sell her into slavery (Cerberus propaganda was rather traditionalist), they would have spent the next three months searching the wrong hemisphere of Pragia, eidetic memory or not.

"Thank you, Ms. Vedral. A pleasure," she sketched an awkward half-bow from her seat, turning to Min with an open mouth that promptly shut the hell up as the revelations poured out.

---

It was hard to wince in a hardsuit, but dear god, that laugh.

"Fine. Jones? Hsieng? Catch." Her pistol was tossed to the Welsh woman, while the big rifle was passed over to the Chinese guy on her left. "Asari?" Sonia stepped up to the hatch, helmet less than a foot away from Ana's face (although given the whole 'bulletproof window' thing, it might as well have been lightyears away). "Give us a drink, yeah?"

Jones and Hsieng glanced at each other, then at Kirok. As one, the other technicians had a quiet sit down behind the 'trolley.

---

"...nice to meet you too, Ms. Xiao." She'd thought she had this Band all figured out, but this... Too many new possibilities, too many new angles-

So the important thing is to stay calm.

"Why?" The operative's left hand clenched, once. "Why leave? Why work with aliens and the Alliance? Why didn't you fight? Why didn't you... Why didn't we win?"

Working with aliens? Check, with barely a blink. Knowingly collaborate in one of the largest genocides in galactic history? Check, ditto. Work undercover to gain the trust of Cerberus defectors, only to betray them? Check. It took a lot to make Isabelle Mirice lose her composure, or, indeed, any sleep at night.

But coming face to face with one of the defectors... That messed with her, and it showed.

"I'm sorry, I... I don't mean to be rude," there was a hint of hysterical giggle in that last word, but it was cut off, swallowed, excised, "But... why?"

Ana’s response to the weapon exchange was to give a very unladylike snort.

“Man, you kids suck at this,” she said, grinning as she ran her fingers up and down the docking controls. “I mean, sheeyit, we’re bein’ paid to cart you dorks from Point A to Point B, y’dig? Ain’t no point in poisoning you…’least, unless you try something. Seriously, girl, Rule #1 of prison transports – always chum up the warden.”

The airlock doors opened, and she tossed the flask across to Sonia with a yellowed grin.

“Aaaand there ya go. Hundred percent Eden Prime spring water. You know, that gethsmacked place you turned into a forced labor camp?”

She leaned in and gave a loud, conspicuous whisper.

”They’re ruled by a magic hat these days, you know.”

Ana neither knew nor cared that Stetson had been deposed. After all, his name was Stetson.

"Asari, you and me were in very different prisons."

Still, the hulking woman accepted the flask, taking her helmet off to reveal a (surprisingly) pretty face. Unscrewing the lid, Sonia took a deep sniff before chugging down at least half of the water.

"A magic hat? What the hell are you on?"

...if she'd known better, she wouldn't have asked.

Ana rolled her eyes. “Duhhh. Had to be, seeing as you made it. Sooo, little hint between two nice-lookin’ gals? Guards get a lot sloppier when the girl they guard starts at least acting like they’re Stockholm-ing.”

She winked, stuffing the cigar back into her mouth and chewing on the end.

“By the way, just this,” she continued, jawing the cigar for emphasis. “And it’s true. Whole place is ruled by an omnipresent, magical hat. Must’ve been some last-minute experiment you folks were cooking up there, huh? Whole fuckin’ place is nuts. I mean, sheeeyit, they even think other humans are godsquid now.”

Normally this would've been the end of Shirin Vedral's involvement in the goings-on aboard her ship. She was determined not to eavesdrop on Min, against basically every professional instinct in her brain and the existence of multiple pin-holes she'd personally drilled in the walls of nearly every room on the ship (electronic surveillance devices were much more detectable, hence the crude nature of the 'tech', and letting the rest of the crew help out would clue them in to what she was doing in the first place). One of them, in fact, was right next to her liquor cabinet, and the temptation to try listening in as she rummaged was remarkably powerful. Even so, when she finally straightened, a bottle of Port-au-Prince Chairman's Reserve in one hand, the drell strode right past the 'spy hole' and out into the hallway.

No, extensive information control was for field ops. When you were dealing with your own people, there was a point to which paranoia was acceptable, and then everything after that was excessive and more likely to alienate them than to help you. If Min wanted to go with the Cerberus cell, that was acceptable. If she wanted to go with the Cerberus cell and try to, say, kill Shirin and steal the ship, that was rather less acceptable, but she would deal with it then.

And not a moment before. Anyone who didn't trust the people they went into life-or-death situations with, at least a little, was phenomenally broken on some level.

So it was that, suppressing the nagging voice in the back of her mind, Shirin took a detour to pass the airlock on the way back to her cabin. The Cerberus refugees looked bedraggled and miserable, as expected, but Ana and Kirok hadn't vented them, and one had apparently just returned from visiting the head, so things were going rather better than she'd expected.

"All's well up front," she rasped, hefting the spiced rum and lightly twirling the bottle's neck between her fingers. "I assume you've been attending to our clients' needs."

Kirok looked at Shirin, then at the big red button, and then back at Shirin. There was a scowl embedded in his face; it'd take more than just some good cooking and a slug of ryncol to wedge it out.

"Tell me we's gettin' these vermin offa dis ship soon," Kirok growled, deep black bass rumbling up from his throat. "I dunno how much longer I kin stand these pestilent sons'a'bitches."

So, maybe she'd overestimated Mirice a bit. That she'd start fraying so soon, was well, maybe not entirely unreasonable. But the cracks in the armour were rapidly becoming apparent. Maybe she wasn't ready for her Serious Questions About Her Direction In Life.

Still, why was a good question. Rationalizing that question was the most exercise that her brain tended to get over the past year, as she sat around plugging numbers for some dead-end asari bank. Still, a year of rationalization had given Min some quick answers.

"I just didn't feel like going down with the ship. They had my number, and they gave me the easy way or the hard way." Min took the opportunity to knock on her temple. "There are a few downsides to having a hard drive in your brain, I mean."

Oh, great. All of a sudden she was justifying herself to Mirice.

Min took the brief silence after her apologia - feeling slightly worse about herself using such language and feeling slightly hungrier - as an opportunity to take a bite out of Shirin's cervelle de veau. Haute cuisine was never really her thing, but the most satisfying meal that she'd had in the past fourteen months was cooked on a grill. She needed something to balance it out. And something to keep her mind on.

"'Attending' isn't the word I'd use," rasped a familiar voice. From down the hall, Cerastes approached, having finished checking over the restrooms for the third time to ensure that nothing had been planted by the ship's 'guests' during their many, many visits.

Exasperated, the drell ran a hand over his spines and eyed Shirin's rum enviously. He'd have to pick up a bottle of something - anything - for himself when they hit port again.

"They'll live, unfortunately," he continued. "What's next?"

In fairness to Min's well-developed sense of character, it was likely that Mirice would be more in control once she'd caught her metaphorical breath after a year in isolation.

"...thank you. For sharing, I mean." She stared hard at the cervelle for a moment, thinking. "I... I guess it can't be easy. And it doesn't sound like an easy decision to make." No, better not. Far too rich for her malnourished stomach. Mirice's eyes flicked up to meet Min's.

"I've pored over the news. All of it. The discovery of Sanctuary, the coup failing, all of it. But... I still can't wrap my head around it." She sighed, looking away, but she seemed a bit more in control. "You were there, Ms. Zhao. How did we lose?"

The expression in her eyes was that of a child whose parents had just told them there is no Father Christmas and that the Easter Bunny's a lie too.

---

Back in the airlock, the mood was just as grim, albeit without the existential crisis. Most of the Cerbs were busy trying to look as non-pestilential as they could after Kirok's remark. If the Phoenix Foundation ever wanted a recruitment drive, they could do worse than hiring krogan to threaten people with spacing.

Sonia seemed to be the only one uncowed (except for Arda, the frequent bathroom-visitor, who was slumped in a corner all by himself), busily draining the flask.

"A magic hat? That one... wasn't one of ours, I'm pretty sure," she replied, finishing the last drops with relish. "Did you want this back, by the way, or should I count it as a token of your affections?"

The bitterness was evident in her tone of voice, not to mention the look she cast at Shirin and the stinkeye aimed Kirok's way.

Always with the complaining. Shirin had considerable respect for her employees' skills, and certainly had better sense than to try imposing High Republic-style military discipline on what was essentially a pirate operation, but there were times when she wished a job, any job, could just go by in silence for once.

"Just until Illium, and then we're dropping them off for a different ship," she replied dutifully. "After that, Jil and I work on analyzing the intel, and in the meantime, we run another op. I've got a couple options going; there's an antique dealer who's been showing some interest in events on Has'Sey, and I recently got an offer about some time-sensitive detail involving - actually, that reminds me, have any of you stolen a person before? If I'm the only one with kidnapping experience, we might have to turn that one down."

She twirled the bottle of rum again, feeling the resistance as it sloshed around inside. Popping that seal was going to be very satisfying.

"Until then, I'm headed back to my cabin; gonna send some emails, hammer out more details on the offers, and drink the hell out of this. It's Chairman's Reserve. Good stuff, Earth-made. Distilled and aged, mixed with cinnamon, nutmeg, clove, allspice, vanilla, orange, lemon, coconut, bois bandé." The richeria grandis was supposed to be an aphrodisiac to humans, which was kind of ironic being as Shirin was, by numerous orders of magnitude, the most nonsexual creature on the ship. "Anyway, that'll occupy me for most of the night, so don't abuse the clients. Seriously. They're paying us."

Briefly, the drell considered offering the Cerberus some of the rum, but being as they were slowly recovering from malnourishment and in terrible shape, that would probably be more of a cruelty than anything else.

"Nrrrrf," was all Kirok supplied as a response, his yellow eyes lancing at the cerbs with a distrusting air and a fiendish intensity. "Save a shot fer me, Shirin. More, if'n y'can. I ain't gonna be sitting purty 'till these fuckers're off my ship."

"This isn't really a shot kind of liquor, it's a sipping rum. If you shoot it you won't be able to appreciate the complexities of the flavor. There's sort of a bitter orange aroma, in combination with the cinnamon and nutmeg, giving it a zest that strikes the sensory receptors in a way that complements the taste. You've got the sweeter, more rich notes from the vanilla and clove, and they're balanced out by the citrus flavor, especially on the aftertaste. It's better enjoyed over an hour or so than downed all at once."

A pause.

"Wait, do krogan have sipping liquors?"

Kirok thought for a long second, then gave Shirin the coolest of looks.

"Not really, naw," was all he said as he turned his attention to the airlock, hand hovering over the Big Red Button just in case.

“Aw, he’s lyin’,” butted in Ana, speaking loudly over the airlock doors as they sealed up behind her. “Got their own crazy-shit spectrum, from Quash ales right up to the radioactive shit they’re always drinkin’ ‘round us. I tell ya, I found this real nice barrel of Murtag Bitches Brew, like, a century ago? Spiced to hell and back by this bottlemaster what claimed he had a dozen kids while on it. Had one of the girls do some spectrum analysis on it on a lark, and you would not believe the sort of stuff he put in there. I’m talking things like—“

One look from Shirin and she switched tacks at the speed of light.

”Anyway, that stuff was the shit. I mean, you gotta expect a huge kick from anything a krogan drinks to get drunk, but if you got the liver for it – well, this stuff was nice, nutty, had a bitter vanilla-ish aftertaste to it…whooof, it was good.”

For some reason, the word "hat" flashed through her head, and she turned back to give a thumbs-up at Sonia - then popped the top on her flask and started pouring more water into it. Man, she was feeling good today.

And the Tooth Fairy wasn't real, either.

Selling out was actually an easier decision than Min cared to admit. A decision made even less complex when half her cell took their medicine - that medicine being a potassium cyanide solution. Hardly a fate she was willing to consign herself to, and the dissatisfaction and restlessness, well, it came later.

"It's Xiao, actually. You kinda make the sound closer to the back of your tongue than the front. It's something some people need to practice a bit."

A long beat.

"Well, I guess that doesn't matter." Min sighed, her attention floating back to what was left of the cervelle for a moment. She'd have to remember to ask Shirin about how she prepared it. "We just... lost. That's just what happened. We played our hand too soon against people too smart to play the game. We made enemies out of the entire galaxy and the robots the galaxy was losing against. If I were a little more pretentious, I'd be giving you some proverb about hubris."

Min regarded Mirice with a long look - quickly trying to work out something coherent in her aim with this conversation. Something to start with.

"I've got a question for you, actually. If you don't mind me asking. You spent one year... well, you know." Hopefully, this wasn't going to provoke anything. "I don't need to know how you survived, and I wouldn't ask you to recount it. I just want to know how you never lost faith in the cause. In the rhetoric. In Cerberus. If that makes sense."

As soon as Sonia saw Kirok's hand hover over that button (there was no hiding it, really - krogan hands are big), the francaise backed off, both of her hands held out in the universal 'I surrender' gesture. She turned back, away from her travel agents-cum-captors, and started muttering something to one of the technicians.

---

"Xiao. Xiao." Mirice shook her head. Sure, she was out of practice, but concentrating on the small things helped. Makes it easier to see her as someone, something other than a traitor.

"Hubris sounds about right. There were rumours, you know, that some questioned the Illusive Man's plans, said we should have waited," She shook her head. "A shame. We should have listened." Dissenters had been the first ones integrated, once Cerberus started eating itself.

Min's question came as something of a surprise for the die-hard operative. But then, she was never a true believer.

"...some of us did. Lose faith, I mean." If the question was a surprise, her answer was more of one. "They said we should run away, burn our insignia, hide on Noveria or somewhere and forget it all." Mirice's eyes were looking at Min, sure, but she was seeing something else, far in the distance. "We shouted them down and bawled them out and, well-" A brief pause.

"It's not important. You wanted to know why I never lost faith, Ms. Xiao?" Mirice quirked an eyebrow, suddenly back in the here and now. "It's because Cerberus was right, is right. The Reaper invasion, the Crucible incident, all of it proves how right it all was. We're small, tiny creatures in a galaxy full of aliens that want to chew us up and swallow us whole.

"I joined Cerberus to protect humanity, Ms. Xiao, and by all reports, humanity still needs protecting."

You could almost see the fanaticism pouring off her.

"They can't really swallow us whole if they chew us up, you know." Min deadpanned. A long pause ensued. "Okay, so that sounded funnier in my head."

Still, she'd digested most of what Mirice was saying. Understood it. And well, she got the impression if the Band happened to space their guests, there would be a touch of karmic justice to the whole affair. Having polished off what remained of the cervelle, Min pushed the plate away and leaned against the back of her chair.

"I'll tell you something, actually. If you'll excuse a tangent." Didn't hurt to share a bit more of herself. "I dunno if Cerberus was right. Is right. Will be right. I don't think about it. I think I joined Cerberus because... I like feeling important. I liked feeling what I was doing meant something. I liked feeling exceptional. That's what Cerberus meant to me. And if it means anything, it meant a lot."