[Tayseri, Advanced Storage Incorporated] Humanity's Shield

The vault was dark. With her entrance, a few lights kicked on automatically, picking up on Sarah Thompson's body heat signature. Only Triskele and a few others have seen this place- And never what was locked away in the more secure vaults. Armor- Fragments of what was once her previous life. Not even she knew why she kept it, perhaps as a reminder as the way things used to be, the cracked helmet of a repainted suit of Assault armor, the dogtags of her mentor after his body was recovered, antiques..

And a long-range communications terminal.

Absurdly expensive and restricted, unless you have the funds to pay for one. It pays to come from blue blood and to marry into it, Sarah thought- Chris's father was a real estate magnate, and with his death all holdings got passed onto next-of-kin- down seven times. Had her brother-in-law not died on the shuttle out, things would be different. In some ways, Sarah wishes they were.

Sarah took a deep breath and sighed. "I can do this. I can do this.." She had given him the time and the communications port- It was only a matter of if he would be willing to patch through. Fuck. "I can't do this." The platinum blonde locked her arms behind her head. A moment later, she was smoking a cigarette, filling the room with a whispy white/gray smoke. Moments after that, she was sitting on a safe, knees to her chest, blue eyes darting about the room of relics.

"I can do this. He's totally going to call any minute now." She'd find herself back towards the terminal, which lit up and opened at her approach. She activated her OT, swiping it across the surface. "I can do this.."

He called.

The terminal's status lights flashed wildly, and a holographic image began forming in front of it. [Redacted]'s image flickered flickered into life, staring at the blonde woman. The man was wearing a dark suit in a cut that had been popular forty years earlier. He smiled slightly as he sat down into a chair that had not been included in the transmission's hologram.

"Ms. Thompson."

"RememberTheBlitz. I'm sorry we couldn't have an extended meeting face-to-face." The woman stared across at the hologram, her hands confidently on her hips, masking the anxiety from before. She wasn't blinking. "I trust you've been keeping yourself busy? Why haven't you come forward, accepted a pardon like James and I and dozens of others?" She thought about what she meant. Cerberus is gone. Little more than memories, to be stuffed away in a vault.

The former operative sighed. "Maybe it's because I'm tired of working for people who would gladly leave me to hang. After Torfan, the Alliance Brass decided that the O program was a failed experiment, and threw me and everyone under my command to the jackals. So I brought my people to Cerberus, only for the Illusive Man to stab us all in the back less than ten years later. No more. Noveria may be cold and harsh, but gives me the opportunity to act according to my own conscience." His lips pursed into a slight smile. "Besides, I see no need for a pardon. The last time I checked, Alliance Intelligence had stored my files on an Arcturus server, with backups in Eden Prime and Prague. The evidence simply doesn't exist any more. They wouldn't be able to stick me with anything serious." He paused again. "Though I suppose Intelligence could try to put me in one of those prisons they've built into nameless asteroids, and I don't really see a formal pardon doing much to stop that."

"Do I look like I'm in an asteroid prison, Redford? You and I walked through the same fires and dealt with the same overwatch, had the same threats of needles shoved into us and the Illusive Man's unchecked ambition endangering not only us but those we cared about. You can't look at me in the eye and tell me you haven't given it a thought. Do you want to sit on that iceball and become an wrinkled old man, bitter about the past and living a life in the shadows? Or do you want to give life in the limelight a challenge and do some good?"

She surprised herself- A moment where she briefly rubs at her jawline, staring across the room at the hologram. She stepped forward, grabbing onto the edges of the terminal and leaned forward slightly. "I -am- in Military Intelligence. All because of our mutual friend Mr. Greene." She'd relax. "If I can't help you branch over to our side then you can bet your ass I'll find someone who can. Please. James and I are in the same unit- He's on the way out with retirement. I need someone with the skills and intelligence to fill his space. I'm a grunt at heart, Redford, I'm not sure I can fill his shoes."

A faint, weary smile touched the former operative's lips. "I've spent over thirty years in the Shadows, Ms. Thompson. I have grown rather fond of them. I served my time with the Alliance, and I served my time with Cerberus. Now, I will serve the dictates of my own judgement. Let the limelight go to one of a different persuasion.Even if the Alliance were willing to forgive me, I'm not entirely certain I could forgive them. Now please, don't take that the wrong way; I harbor no ill will towards the Alliance as a whole. I'm just afraid that our differences are... irreconcilable."

Sarah had a stone expression on her face. "Well, are we at an impasse? Where is our relationship going to go? Greene is a mutual friend, how can we both be the same without one of us incurring the wrath of our employers- Even though I suspect you care little for that problem, being your own boss and all." She turned, crossing her arms across her chest. She paced slightly, before turning to face 'Mr. Redford' again. Her expression cracks.


"t- ..Thirty years in the shadows. How old -are- you? I was only in the organization for thirteen years. I joined in when I was seventeen- Just out of the camp. I wasn't at Torfan- but those bastards-" She'd point an aggressive finger, her eyes wavering."They wanted to turn me into a phantom. I still don't know the extent of what they've done to me. A -lot- has changed.

There was a lot she didn't say.

"Given the number of times I've had tissues regrown or regenerated, I suppose my apparent youth is only natural. Between limb replacements, identity changes, and gene therapies, I doubt there are more than five organs in my entire body that have been there from the start: a walking ship of Theseus. But I only joined the Illusive Man after Torfan; you actually spent more time with Cerberus than I did. Before that was two decades working with the parts of the Alliance that don't show up on the recruitment posters. Special Forces, ONI, Corsairs, O7's, joint operations with the Agency... and other programs that you're probably not cleared to know about. And to be perfectly honest, the work I did for Cerberus was not much different than the work I did for them; it just payed more. Now, I'm not saying they're equally as bad; the Intelligence blackops never experimented on children or implanted their own people with Reaper tech. But just because the group you're working with is legal doesn't mean it's always above board. Their leadership will always put their own needs above those of their people - particularly above those it doesn't fully trust. If they ever ask you to switch from analysis to operations, I would think very carefully about your answer."

He exhaled slowly, his face brightening. "But enough with ominous forebodings. I have an offer for you. When ever whenever slavers, pirates, terrorists, or foreign agents from beyond C-Space try to get access to Alliance colonies, they have two ways to get there. A small few will take the Ilium route and brave interceptions at Thessia or Sur'Kesh, but most enter the Exodus from the Horsehead Nebula. Intelligence sources on Noveria are essential to protecting the people of the Alliance. Unfortunately, a local information broker known as the Regent of Silence has been making life difficult for the handful of Alliance agents assigned to that iceball, and they're not getting much useful intel. Fortunately for the Office of Naval Intelligence, one of their newer officers happens to know someone who has access to a great deal of Noverian intel..."

Sarah paused, taking a moment to think. The woman pulled her hands up, rubbing her short platinum hair. "..What do you want in return?" She asked, turning and staring at the holographic image of the man dead in the eyes. "I just got this posting. I can't offer much of anything- And with James retired to some sunny beach or country manor god-knows-where with Weiss, I'm not too sure I have much pull at all."

His smile broadened. "Just a promise: if you ever think that your new bosses are writing you off, call me." He paused for a moment and added, "And maybe if you let them know I'm providing reliable intelligence, they'll be less likely to send another elimination team." He stopped again, looking momentarily thoughtful. "I do hope it was them who sent that one. Otherwise, they might be getting a somewhat awkward and confusing package in the mail."

"..Deal." She approached the terminal, stopping for a moment. "I know I sound like I regret my life- And I do. Look what all I have, Redford. I have ghosts-" She activated her omnitool- Panels gave way in the floor of the room, bringing up a clear safe with a cracked Assault armor helmet- A round punched through the brow and exploded. "And scars. This isn't even my face." She gestures at her face.


"They took even this from me. All I have now is Chris. She's -all- I have. I would throw away the pacifism I've elected to have and destroy men and armies if harm came to her."