Announcements: Cutting Costs (2024) » January 2024 Copyfraud Attack » Finding Universes to Join (and making yours more visible!) » Guide To Universes On RPG » Member Shoutout Thread » Starter Locations & Prompts for Newcomers » RPG Chat — the official app » Frequently Asked Questions » Suggestions & Requests: THE MASTER THREAD »

Latest Discussions: With Chat currently offline... An alternative » Adapa Adapa's for adapa » To the Rich Men North of Richmond » Shake Senora » Good Morning RPG! » Ramblings of a Madman: American History Unkempt » Site Revitalization » Map Making Resources » Lost Poetry » Wishes » Ring of Invisibility » Seeking Roleplayer for Rumple/Mr. Gold from Once Upon a Time » Some political parody for these trying times » What dinosaur are you? » So, I have an Etsy » Train Poetry I » Joker » D&D Alignment Chart: How To Get A Theorem Named After You » Dungeon23 : Creative Challenge » Returning User - Is it dead? »

Players Wanted: Looking for a long term partner! » JoJo or Mha roleplay » Seeking long-term rp partners for MxM » [MxF] Ruining Beauty / Beauty x Bastard » Minecraft Rp Help Wanted » CALL FOR WITNESSES: The Public v Zosimos » Social Immortal: A Vampire Only Soiree [The Multiverse] » XENOMORPH EDM TOUR Feat. Synthe Gridd: Get Your Tickets! » Aishna: Tower of Desire » Looking for fellow RPGers/Characters » looking for a RP partner (ABO/BL) » Looking for a long term roleplay partner » Explore the World of Boruto with Our Roleplaying Group on FB » More Jedi, Sith, and Imperials needed! » Role-player's Wanted » OSR Armchair Warrior looking for Kin » Friday the 13th Fun, Anyone? » Writers Wanted! » Long term partner to play an older male wanted » DEAD! »

0
followers
follow

Sibyl Carson

"The Operator"; A skilled intelligence analyst and discreet information broker. Sole leader of "Oracle".

0 · 356 views · located in Mass Effect Universe created by Bioware

a character in “Mass Effect: On the Edge”, originally authored by The Ghost Writer, as played by RolePlayGateway

History

ImageThe Shadow Broker and the Illusive Man aren't the only mysterious information master minds of the Milky Way. Oracle is a top secret Alliance initiative dealing in counter-espionage, anti-terrorism, and war diversion operations. The sole leader of the organization, granted full authority, and guaranteed absolute immunity from the Alliance, is known as "the Operator". Unlike the other two enigmatic puppeteers of the galaxy, however, the Operator actually has a name available on Oracle records: Sibyl Carson; a former N7 Marine, and then an Alliance Intelligence Analyst, who became the head of the navy's counter-espionage division in 2181. In 2183, Miss Carson was reassigned to lead the newly-founded Oracle program; the Alliance's response to Cerberus and the Shadow's Brokers private army. Oracle and the Aurora Initiative (which is the human response to the Counsel's Spectres) are two entirely different Alliance endeavors, but actually share a competitive rivalry during some incidents that requires temporary collaboration.

Carson is a woman gifted with near-perfect photographic memory recall, and is seen by Alliance leaders as the perfect individual to hold the position she is in now. She remains a good friend and personal contact of Commander Titus - whom she served under during her years as a marine; but keeps their continued friendship a secret from the Alliance. She will assist Titus in missions so long as they do not threaten galactic peace, or Alliance interests.

So begins...

Sibyl Carson's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Braden Reynolds Character Portrait: Commander Jonathan Titus Character Portrait: Captain Azuric Villayn Character Portrait: Sibyl Carson
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Titus turned and watched after Valentine brushed past him and made his way to the Vindicator’s docking bridge. He remained where he was for a minute, waiting until the air lock closed behind his new crew member, before walking back out into the main terminal. He continued to walk, gently weaving in and out of several spacers and travelers waiting for their vessels to refuel or finish being worked on. As he was now deep within the Terminus systems the language barrier was dense, with the tongues of several cultures feeling reverberating about the terminal.

He finally came to a stop when a woman’s voice, singing in perfect English, asked from within an alcove, “Long time no see, Captain.”

Titus turned and smiled to the dark haired woman leaning her shoulder against the wall with arms and legs crossed. “Lieutenant Carson,” he said, stepping closer to the woman named Sibyl. “It’s has been a long time hasn’t it?” John opened slightly opened his arms and she pushed off of the wall to accept the embrace, returning the smile.

After stepped back to her spot, she asked, “It’s Commander now, actually.”

“Promoted?”

“To the head of a new Alliance program called Oracle. Though, I’m surprised you didn’t already know.”

Titus shrugged his shoulders and slightly shook his head. “The Illusive Man must have forgotten to mention that the last time we spoke. So what’s Oracle?”

Sibyl leaned out of the alcove only enough for her to glance up and down both directions of the terminal. In a lower voice, she replied, “It’s the navy’s new special intelligence division. After my work in their InOps branch, they offered me the position of ‘the Operator’; the director of this new and improved group of spooks.”

John raised a brow. “The Operator? You’re not going to become recluse on a space station orbiting some random gas giant now, are you?”

His friend laughed and poked him in the stomach. “Of course not; so long as there’s one mystery man already doing that, the galaxy can sleep well at night.” She bent down to one knee, dipping her hand into a small bag that had been laid by her feet. A second later, she stood back up and revealed a small black box that she had recovered from the satchel. There was a silver piece on the front, where one would normally press in and lift up to release the latches and open the lid; but Titus recognized this particular model to be designed as a security lock box, built to protect small items of immense value; jewelry, credit chits, data disks, anything else a paranoid – or just very careful – individual could not trust themselves enough to keep on their person.

“I’ve brought what you asked for,” she said, handing the box over to him. “There is a DNA scanner on either side of the box. It’s been coded to only allow him to open it. He’ll just have to place each index finger on either side, let it read his DNA from his skin cells, and then he can just push in and up on the silver latch on the front. Simple; but secure.”

Titus took the box in both hands, examined it for a second – feeling the weight, the volume, the mere eye value – and nodded his thanks to Sibyl. “I could use someone like you on my team, Carson.”

Sibyl smiled, but replied, “Sorry, Titus; but I can’t. I have a duty with the Alliance, and my loyalty is also with them. I may look out for humanity just as much as you or the Illusive Man, but Oracle has standards; the first of which being integrity.”

It seemed a shadow had just been cast over Titus as he looked slightly away from the woman who used to serve with him as an N7 marine. They had been through hell and back in more than ways than one, and always came out stronger, closer, and more defined by their actions in the field. Both of them had taken lives, but in doing so they have saved thousands, possibly hundreds of thousands. Now, they had gone their separate ways. John had joined Cerberus, and Sibyl had migrated to the intelligence community. Now, he felt he was being accused; and if that’s what her aim was, she had every right to do so. He couldn’t blame her, and wouldn’t.

“I have to go, Titus,” she said abruptly, looking down at her Omni tool which had pinged aloud to grab her attention.

“Uhm, yeah. I’ll see you around, Sibyl,” he replied.

She turned to leave, stepping out of her alcove and past John; but before reaching even ten feet from him, she stopped and looked back. “You know Commander Titus,” she began, “it’s not you that should be asking me to tag along. It should be me asking you.” After passing him a quick wink of her eye, she turned back and disappeared into a crowd of humans that walked through a nearby air lock.

“Perfect timing as always,” John mused before heading the opposite direction with a smirk on his face.




Braden’s slammed downward and crashed into the blue mat in the center of the gym’s floor. Every last bit of biotic energy he had built up around his body channeled through his arm and released into a widespread shockwave, surging out from his knuckles. The blue and purple blast sent Villayn, Darak, and Arkan flying in an outward direction. The turian captain crashed into one of the treadmills situated in the corner of the room. His head rolled around for a second as he struggled to recover.

“Okay!” Villayn said, holding up his talons. “That’s enough for today.”

Arkan stumbled back onto the mat, and gave the human child a heavy pat on his shoulder. Braden was so exhausted from the session that he dropped to his knees as soon as Arkan’s talons made contact. “You okay?” the turian lieutenant asked sincerely.

“I’m fine,” Braden replied, standing back up to his feet with ferocity, attempting to maintain a tough appearance, which made Darak laugh.

Villayn walked over, but had a more serious look than his friends. “Promise me you’ll eat a full meal this time,” he said, pointing one of his long, bony digits at the boy. “Dr. Porter gave me an ear full the other day. I never realized that your species’ females can be just as aggressive as the asari. She actually had me worried she’d eject me out the air lock if you wound up on one of her recovery beds again after our training.”

Braden laughed and shrugged. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

The door to the gym hissed open and Commander Titus stepped in. He was carrying a small security box designed for private belongings. He nodded in greeting to Braden before looking to Villayn to ask, “Would you mind giving Mr. Reynolds and I a moment together, Captain? I won’t take too much of your time.”

“Take as long as you want, Commander,” Villayn replied with a nod. “We’ve just finished up for the day. You should know he’s doing quite well; already able to take on all three of us and come out on top.”

Titus actually seemed pleased with Villayn’s praise for the teen. “Well then, I’ll definitely have to come down and watch tomorrow. Thanks for everything you’re doing, Captain.”

“My pleasure, Titus,” Villayn replied as he made his way out of the gym with Darak and Arkan behind him.

When the door hissed shut once more, Titus walked over and onto the mat to meet Braden. He handed the boy the small box, who took it with great curiosity in his eyes. “What’s in it?” he inquired.

“Open it and find out,” John said gently.

Braden pressed each index finger on the sides of the box, and heeded to the sound of a hum coming from somewhere within. After a tiny click was heard at the front, he pressed his thumbs on the silver latch, press in, and then up. He transitioned one hand under the box for support as his other hand gently and slowly lifted the top back. Inside, he saw two titanium dog tags on a matching chain, perfectly polished, resting like feathers on a satin-gray silk display pillow. He reached in and gently lifted the tags off of the pillow, setting the box down on the mat after doing so, and lightly ran his thumb over the embellished print.

REYNOLDS
ADAM C
486850125 AN
O POS
CHRISTIAN


The boy’s knees began to shake, and Titus’ arms reached around behind his back and pulled him in close. Heavy, overwhelming sobs violently bore into his jacket, but John stood there the whole time: looking ahead, holding him close, and letting the young man release it all. Braden’s arms close around his torso and they remained locked in the center of the room for several minutes before Braden finally pulled away and looked back at the tags.

“Service Chief Adam Reynolds,” Titus said after a long silence, “that was your father. He was a very brave man, Braden. He was a proud Alliance MP, who gave his life defending you and your mother. You’ve gone through the last two years not being able to remember who they were. I figured it would help if you had something that the geth or Gavin didn’t take away from you.”

Braden lifted the chain around his neck, and let the tags rest against the outside of his shirt. His fingers twirled and fumbled with his father’s precious identity for a few seconds before whispering the words, “Thank you.”

John pulled the teen in for a final hug, rubbing a rough hand through his already messy hair before letting him go, and said, “Now, go eat. Veronica just about smashed my head into the wall because you passed out last time.”

Braden raised a brow and replied, “She is so my mom!”

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Braden Reynolds Character Portrait: Stephen "Sentry" Valentine Character Portrait: Sibyl Carson
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

As soon as Sentry vaulted up and out of the Hammerhead, Braden grabbed his rifle and unbuckled the harness around him. The barrel of his Avenger popped up out of the access hatch immediately after Sentry’s boots were out of the way. It would be his second time to actually use the gun against Aurora troopers, and this time they would be firing back at him. The young man took a deep breath and steadied his aim as he brought the sights up to his first target. When he exhaled, he paused his breathing and squeezed the trigger for a brief second. A short controlled burst of mass accelerated rounds pummeled the soldier square in his chest. The barriers absorbed the rounds, but Braden could tell by the electrical arcs around him that its strength was failing.

The second burst of rounds ensured the barriers were no longer a problem, and final punctured the soldier’s chest before he could stumble behind cover. Two soldiers later, Braden glanced around to take a look at Sentry’s progress. The man was busy applying what had to be Omni-gel to the damaged and exposed electronics just inside the Hammerhead’s hull. Sentry glanced up and, with a shocked expression, yelled, “Hey! Eyes on the fight, kid!”

Slightly annoyed, but nonetheless determined to obey, Braden spun back around in the hatch and concentrated his focus on the task at hand: protecting Sentry while he worked his engineering magic. More soldiers came pouring out of the woodwork within the base, all sprinting at full speed in a desperate attempt to overwhelm the helpless Cerberus attackers. The majority of them were running past a large supply platform, complete with crates, Helium-3 drums, and what were the unmistakable silhouettes of several combustible containers. Thinking fast, Braden brought the sights over to the containers and let loose with several more bursts from the triggers. It took several rounds, but he finally got the right puncture to do the trick. The resulting explosion sent more than a dozen Aurora troopers flying in every direction away from the concussive blast.

Braden smiled to himself as he admired the carnage, but his attention was quickly drawn to the lone figure about sixty or seventy meters to the left of the Hammerhead’s position. He didn’t need to look twice to recognize a missile launcher. The single trooper had used the distracting horde of his fellow comrades to his advantage and managed to flank Braden and Sentry. Braden glanced back to the devastation he had caused to make sure no one else was running for them from that direction, before he vaulted out of the hatch completely and jumped down into the snow. Despite the inner warmth his enviro-suit offered, he still felt a shiver of cold running along his spine whenever his boots pounded onto Noveria’s frozen surface.

“Sentry!” he yelled. “I’ll be right back!”

“WHAT?!” the man bellowed, even though he kept working on the damage.

Braden broke into the fastest run he could manage in the tall blanket of snow and ice. The trooper had yet to fire his missile, and with Braden closing in so quickly, he wouldn’t get the chance. As the teen approached the platform the trooper was using as a height advantage, he lowered the launcher and reached for his Striker sidearm. With only ten meters between him and the trooper, the teen charged up as much biotic energy as he could while running and channeled it into a mass effect field around his body, decreasing his personal mass. This allowed him to move faster, being as light as feather and virtually unhindered by the elements around him.

The man fired his pistol too late and Braden was well clear of the round’s path. Before his opponent could even register what had happened, the teenager struck the side of his hand hand down on his wrist, effectively disarming him. The biotic used the elbow of the same arm and jabbed downward into the man’s gut, forcing him to buckle forward and stumbled back. Braden then refocused the energy forging the mass effect field around him, releasing it into a devastating, channeled pulse from his palm, pointed toward the dazed the rocket trooper. The man was hurdled nearly thirty yards across the ground until his helmet slammed into the bulkhead of one of the structures, either killing him or simply incapacitating him; either way, Braden was simply thankful he did all of that in the nick of time.

As he rushed back to the Hammerhead, he felt a slight dizziness in his head, but it strangely wasn’t that hindering. After that kind of biotic display, someone his age would have definitely fainted, but something was different. He felt stronger, more stable, more… energetic. Perhaps it was just the adrenaline, or maybe it was the training he had done with Villayn and the gradual increase of his own use of biotics. Whatever it was, he was grateful for it.

Braden ran up to the Hammerhead and jumped up to the hatch on top. As he settled in, he reached over his shoulder and grabbed the Avenger off its magnetic clip. “Sentry; how’re we doing?!” He glanced around to find the engineer. To his terror, the man was nowhere to be found. A second later, he felt a rough hand grab at his leg inside the hatch, and he practically jumped high enough to actually land outside the hover tank again. Only when he glanced down inside to see Sentry’s laughing face below him did he relax.




Janis sat comfortably in the white arm chair centered directly in front of the Operator’s desk, with legs crossed and hands holding up one of the newer data pad models. The entire body of the pad was an atomized haptic interface, braced and projected by all four sides of a light, black-polished alloy frame. It wasn’t has cheesy looking, or nearly as heavy and bulky, as the old key-input data pads the rest of the galaxy was still using. This one was convenient, longer-lasting, and – best of all – Alliance-manufactured. Agent Freeman loved to study other species, even loved making friends with them, but in the end, he was definitely the pro-human type; though he was careful to keep his personal prejudices personal.

The blue screen on the pad projected all sorts of information gathered on Cerberus by Oracle. Being one of the organization’s top information analysts, he already knew everything his eyes were scanning across, but it never hurt to refresh one’s memory; especially before an assignment as crucial as the one he was about to given by the Operator.

Sibyl Carson finished sending off the e-mail she had busied herself with composing while Agent Freeman brushed up on his Cerberus knowledge using her data pad. After ensuring the proper digital signature was attached, she tapped the send button on her screen and sat back in her chair. It was just the two of them in her office... her large, all-white office. It was difficult to tell, unless you were really looking, where the floor met the walls and the walls met the ceiling. Even the Operator’s desk and executive chair were white. The only colors that stood out were the clothes on their backs and the blue haptic interfaces on her desk and arrayed behind her in a series of three, large screens. Each of the large projections displayed a multitude of data about the galaxy: Oracle mission taskings, Citadel-sanctioned operations, inter-stellar stock ratings, even activity in the Terminus. None of this really awed Janis, however. He had been in the Operator’s office nearly a hundred times by now. Oracle’s headquarters was practically his second home – even out of the four hundred and thirty-eight Oracle safe houses in the galaxy (or the four hundred and thirty-eight that he knew of, anyway).

“Find anything new?” Sibyl asked after a while.

Janis rubbed his chain before tapping the standby button on the edge of the pad’s frame, shutting off the haptic interface to save power. “Nope,” he said, returning the hollowed pad to the Operator’s desk. “Nothing I don’t already know. Our friend, the Illusive Man, is keeping his secrets close these days. He’s making it increasingly difficult to gather inside information.”

“Yes, but with Omni Cell’s recent activity, we may finally have a chance at breaking that pattern.”

“I’m listening.”

Sibyl stood up from behind her desk and walked over to gaze at the center screen behind her, propping an elbow on an open palm and tapping her chin. “The Illusive Man may never let his guard down, but his followers are becoming increasingly careless. I have a… contact onboard one of their vessels; the Vindicator. He’s an old friend, but definitely a Cerberus loyalist.”

“You want to use him?”

“I’d rather have you do the using, Agent Freeman,” she said, turning her head to look at Janis through her peripheral. “There will come a time where he’s going to realize that he’s on the wrong side; and hopefully that time will be soon. When this realization occurs, he’s going to need our help. And you’ll be the one to offer that help. I’ll have Prophet forward you all the necessary information and mission parameters later.”

“Understood, ma’am.” Janis stood up from the chair, bowed slightly as any customary gentleman would, and then turned to leave.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Sibyl Carson
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

The lone man dressed in a relaxed attire of gray trousers and a white blazer glided casually into the open, naturally lit room deep within the Oracle complex on Bekenstein. At least one hundred meters made up the total length of the room, with half that forging the width. A long U-shaped white sofa dominated the center of the chamber on a lowered section of the floor. Sitting on one end, seemingly adorned with rays of sunlight pouring through the floor-to-ceiling window panes that made up the entire far wall, was a single woman wearing a black and white, open-collar business suit. She was leaning back with legs elegantly crossed, scanning over various reports on one of the new blue datapads in her hand. On the other end of the sofa, standing just off from it, was the room’s second occupant; neither man, nor apparition, but the appearance of a human VI.

Benjamin Slatton carried his glide into the center of the room until he approached upon the sofa, only to alter his course to walk the distance around toward the end wear the VI stood. As Ben rounded the corner, he stopped dead in his tracks when the VI’s head suddenly turned toward him, and the hologram assumed a greeting smile on its face. Ben’s lips parted in confusion, as Vis aren’t supposed to do that. They rarely, unless programed, assume facial expressions to convey emotion, and never act or speak in the presence of a sentient being unless directly spoken to first.

“It is as it seems,” the woman explained from the far end without glancing up once to match her eyes to the two figures that were now holding a staring contest. “Ben, meet Prophet; our AI.”

The cyan-colored gentleman named Prophet tipped his head in greeting and spoke with a low, kind voice, “A pleasure to finally meet you, Commander.”

Slatton straightened himself out and shook away the initial shock of coming face-to-face with a fully-aware, and completely unsanctioned artificial intelligence. “Ben…,” he said, to correct Prophet in light of the supposedly relaxed atmosphere before continuing past with the holographic man to take his seat.

“So… I’m assuming the computer is going to my new handler for future missions?” Ben asked as he leaned back into the soft cushion of the sofa.

Operator Sibyl Carson placed the datapad on the cushion next to her and leaned forward to grab the tall, crystal glass of cold water on the similarly-crystal coffee table that stretched the length of the sofa’s inner threshold. “He is,” she replied with a coo before taking an elegant sip from the glass and replacing it gently its previous place. “You have concerns with an AI watching your back?”

“Not unless it plans to stab me in the back and take over the galaxy with an army of mindless drones.”

“I assure you, sir,” Prophet intervened, “that I have no such intentions.”

“Ben. And, sure.”

Sibyl only smiled in faint amusement before glancing down and tapping on the datapad next to her. “How are you liking the ‘good guys’, Ben?”

The man shrugged his shoulders and glanced out the windows, looking out at one of Bekenstein’s famous, billion-credit skylines. “Still getting used to it. There’s a lot I need to reconcile for… but Oracle is helping.” He looked back at Sibyl and kindly said, “Thanks.”

Miss Carson nodded before straightening herself out and folding her arms in front of her. “I’m glad it’s helping. Now… in regards to why you’re here…”

“Something about a high rise on Elysium, some HVTs, and a possible Cerberus interference; am I right?”

“Close enough.” Sibyl stood up from her seat and paced over to the windows. Upon tapping her nail against the glass, several holographic screens burst into existence, each with a detailed image, overlay, or schematic of the building in question. There were also six portraits of the high-value targets, and a dossier on the private security firm in charge of protecting the facility. “Intelligence suggests that your former employer has taken an expected interest in eliminating the Kreen Exporting Company’s board of directors. The company was forged years ago, originally a conglomerate of six smaller companies than all ran their own Ponzi scheme in order to make it off rich.”

“Ponzi scheme?” Ben asked.

Prophet explained. “A fraudulent investment scheme, named after Charles Ponzi for fathering the technique in the year 1920. It involves paying off returns to investors from funds allocated through smaller investors. All the while, the person, or persons, running the scheme ensure they’re making a steady, untouched profit. The same scheme was thwarted by American officials in the year 2008, during a financial downturn forced investors to withdraw some or all of their invested funds from the NASDAQ Company, causing Bernard Madoff’s Ponzie scheme to collapse too early.”

“So these six,” Ben said, “pulled off a successful investment fraud, fell off the grid, and then combined to create a new company?”

“Correct,” Sibyl replied. “KEC, today, runs of a lot of interference against our enemies. Sometimes you have to cut deals with the bad guys in order to gain an edge. I know that doesn’t sit well you, Ben, but-”

“-You think?”

“…But,” Sibyl pressed on, “as of this mission we are no longer protecting them.”

“So why are you sending me in to save their asses?”

Sibyl smiled. “We’re not. The truth of the matter is, the six board directors won’t be there when Cerberus strikes. But you will be; waiting in their place, ready to set off the ambush when they arrive. If an ambush is needed, of course. Prophet will have more for you on that after we're done here.”

“Clever. And the directors?”

“They’ll be a light-years from Elysium by the time Cerberus even enters orbit. I’ll have Oracle arrange for their safe transport to Earth, where an inconveniently placed band of American FBI white collar agents will be awaiting their arrival.”

Ben grinned. “Sucks to be them. Was this whole deal between Oracle and KEC a long-term trap?”

Sibyl smiled and returned to her seat, where she leaned over to pick up the glass of water again. Before taking another sip, she replied, “Perhaps.”

“I’m starting to believe you’re more dangerous than the Illusive Man.”

Sibyl finished sitting down and replaced the glass of water. She then picked up the blue datapad and began flicking through various reports on the screen. “The Illusive Man is too wrapped up in his day-to-day hobby of chasing Reapers to be focused on making Cerberus successful in its original goals. I’ve noticed he’s becoming more and more obsessed; creating an entire cell devoted to stopping the Collectors at all costs. As time goes by, and the Alliance and Counsel races raid one Cerberus base after another, we’re discovering more and more Reaper technology, or tech related to stopping the Reapers. Recently, though, we’ve stumbled across even more interesting research he’s got brewing.”

Ben seemed intrigued and leaned forward. “Oh?”

Sibyl glanced up from her pad and towards Ben. After a brief moment’s silence she simply smiled and said, “We’re still examining it… of course.”

The man only returned the smile and nodded his head. “Of course…” There was another minute of awkward silence before Ben spoke again. “If I may,” he asked, “is it really smart to be criticizing Cerberus of their preparation for the Reapers while you just… sit back and act like nothing’s happening? Should you have the least bit of concern if they do exist?”

Sibyl placed the pad down and straightened herself out in her seat. After clearing her throat, she replied, “Oracle is an Alliance program, Ben, but we’re not one and the same. I know the Reapers exist, and I believe they’re return is imminent just as much as the Illusive Man does. The difference between Oracle and Cerberus, however, is that we have better… task-management skills.” She returned to the pad again, but added, “I also have friends; something the Illusive Man is severely lacking at the moment.”

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Commander Jonathan Titus Character Portrait: Dianna Henricksen Character Portrait: Sibyl Carson Character Portrait: Janis Freeman
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

A blonde woman dressed as a typical mercenary flying out of a bar window was the last thing John had expected to happen during their casual walk to their objective. It was typical that such a sporadic event had to take place only a hundred meters from the place they were supposed to meeting with the quarian. As Serena helped her commander back to his feet, Janis moved to take cover behind a large column. Serena deployed a biotic shield before her, and John drew his pistol from under his jacket. He rushed to help the woman to cover behind a low, but solid kiosk.

"Are you injured?" he asked, checking her over while ducking his head lower as a barrage of shotgun rounds pelleted the other side of their cover.

"I'm fine!" The stranger peeked over during a lull in the firefight before glanced back down. "Just a Krogan charge; I've handled far worse."

John raised a brow at her, but quickly ignored the hard-to-believe tale. "Serena! Cripple him!"

Without hesitation Taylor hit the Krogan dead on with a biotic warp; bringing the large barbarian to the floor in agony. He may have been a two ton tank, but any organism can easily fall prey to an attack at the molecular level. As Serena's warp slowly tore him apart, the woman that had crashed into John stood up and place several well-aimed shots into the beast's cranium. John and Janis both leaned out of cover to focus their own fire on the asari that had tried to be a lone ranger and leap out into the middle of the street with biotics flaring. The two Cerberus operatives made quick work of her.

"That's all of them," Serena announced. The four of them entered the bar and observed the damage. An astonished whistle was all that came from Janis as he looked over the chaotic destruction. In one of the corners was a lone mercenary, covered in blood and clearly dead.

"Dammit," the woman said as she quickly made her way over to the body to check for a pulse. After as second or two, she closed the man's eyelids out of respect and stood back up. "Well... I guess I'm out of a job again."

"Who was that?" John asked.

"No one important," she replied. "Just a former colleague now." When she was sure the rest of the area was secure, she holstered her weapon and approached the three. "You guys obviously aren't typical civilians. No uniforms, no gang emblems, no distinguishing tats... Who are you guys?" She leaned back on one heel and folded her arms, a curious look in her eyes.

Serena and John looked to each other, seemingly trading telepathic thoughts and wondering just how to answer that question. Eventually the commander returned with an answer. "We're with a covert human group."

"Well," she said, "Terra Firma isn't much into military ops; and the Alliance wouldn't be found within light-years of Omega. That leaves only one organization you' could possibly be with... Cerberus."

"Clever girl," Janis commented. "And just who might you be?"




Agent Harrison's footsteps echoed across the reflective glass floor in the Operator's office dome as he made his over to her desk just beyond the center of the room. She stood with her back to him, dressed in the same, conservative-style suit she always wore, facing an array of holographic screens in front of her. They were strung out from the floor to the ceiling of the dome, panning out in a horizontal arc from one side to the other. Outside, was nothing but a dense, bluish atmosphere of a classified gas planet in a classified classified system. The station sat at a high altitude, but low enough to be completely covered and practically undetectable by simply surface scans from wandering (more like lost) non-military ships.

Adam finished his long walk through the interior of the Oracle station and stood with his hands behind the small of his back, waiting for Operator Carson to acknowledge his presence; which she eventually did so by simply turning her head to see him through her peripherals. "Ma'am," he began, "the Cerberus operative that Commander Slatton captured has been transported to our facility on Asphodel. We've mobilized Aurora assets in the area as a defense force in case Cerberus tries to take their man back. All Aurora knows is that they're safe-guarding a high-value target. They don't know who or why."

"Good to hear, Mr. Harrison," Sibyl replied. "But I didn't call you in here for a status update on the Harrens interrogation. Instead, I have a more important task for you. One that requires expediency, but delicacy."

"I'm listening."

Sibyl tapped on a haptic keypad in front of her and a hologram of a man with slick brown hair and a trimmed goatee materialized right before Adam. The man stood rigid, with military posture, and was wearing a Cerberus officer's uniform. The details jutting out to the side in the hologram labelled the individual as a Commander Johnathan Titus. He was a former N7 Marine, and a highly decorated officer of the Alliance Navy. Why he left was anyone's guess. But Adam didn't see why Sibyl was showing him this information.

"Ma'am, isn't Agent Freeman assigned to Commander Titus?"

"He was," she replied with a hint of spite in her voice. "But InOps has intercepted orders from a Cerberus command relay; orders meant specifically for Freeman. I'm afraid we've been dealing with a double-agent this entire time. Janis' loyalty, it turns out, is not with us after all." She turned to walk around her desk and leaned against the front of it. The hologram of Titus faded, and Adam was left staring directly at the Operator. "You're the only one left I can fully trust, Adam. Agent Freeman is working against us, trying to ensure Titus remains loyal to the Illusive Man. I can't have that. Somewhere within him is the man of honor I used to know and work with. I want the old Titus back; and I'm assigning you to protect him and do just that."

Adam was quite astonished by the assignment. He had been on countless protection missions before, but none of them involved protecting an enemy target. "So... just how am I supposed to convince Commander Titus that he's on the wrong side?"

"Play to his morality. I know John. He'll do everything in his power to protect the innocent; and that's why the Illusive Man's decisions are beginning to wear him down. With every op that Cerberus pulls that puts civilian lives in danger, practically making them petty sacrifices to achieve their goals, Titus' loyalty decreases. I know this because he's not one to just throw away his values. I can read it between the lines of the after-action reports InOps intercepts; and if the Illusive Man is personally assigned Janis to play tug-of-war with us, I know he's at the point of neutrality. You're my final pull, Adam. Are you up for it?"

Harrison took a minute to think over what was being asked of him. The mission would obviously involve either infiltration of Titus' ship, or a covert interference in his next operation. The latter would probably work best, seeing as Janis is already aboard the Vindicator. Being spotted by Freeman would be an instant mission failure. "Alright," he said, "I'm in. Where do I start?"

"I'll have Prophet keep you posted on Titus' locations. You'll need in get in close and sometime when Janis isn't around."

"It's like you're reading my mind," Adam commented.




"I'm assuming that was the typical riffraff of Omega?" Prophet's voice said in Adam's earpiece as the agent lay low on the catwalk overlooking the practically destroyed bar, below. Tracking the Vindicator wasn't as hard as it sounded during the intel brief, or according to the frigate's specs on a datapad. All one had to do was look for a CHA-owned cruise ship travelling in the Omega cluster. Its not everyday that a luxury cruise frigate just happens to dawdle in the Terminus systems. Cerberus sure had a funny way of defining covert.

"Yes, and no," Adam replied in a hushed whisper. He was leaning against a large support brace on the catwalk, perfectly hidden by the light-bending tactical cloak around his Oracle black-ops armor and Valkyrie assault rifle. He watched as Titus entered the bar after the firefight with a woman that had been tossed through a window by a krogan. "Lost sight of HVT. Re-positioning." Adam quickly moved down the catwalk a ways until he found himself just above a ledge that the catwalk branched out over top of. After securing the rifle to the magnetic clip on his back, he grabbed a hold of the railing and threw his weight over, landing gracefully on both feet on the ledge below. He then went prone and had a perfect view into the building from his new angle. "Eyes back on," he whispered into the comm. "They're not doing much. Just talking."

"Operator Carson would like me to remind you that 'time is of the essence', Agent Harrison," Prophet stated.

"Yeah, yeah. Tell her I'm moving as fast as they'll let me."

"Or you can just tell me yourself, Adam," Sibyl's voice came over. "You know the beauty of having quantum entanglers these days is that you can do practically anything with them; even hook an AI up to one."

Adam smiled to himself. "Never bothered to ask how I could talk to Prophet with absolutely no lag, let alone see that he's available at every Oracle outpost and base across the galaxy. Let me guess, you've got a QEC terminal in Omega that broadcasts data over a tight-beam range to my personal comm equipment, right?"

"More or less," Sibyl answered. "We're Oracle. We've got assets and equipment staged everywhere. In a sense, we're just networked and rooted as Cerberus. The only difference between us two is that I've got more friends and allies. It's hard to keep company when you're an elite asshole with a racist agenda."

The three that Adam had been tailing for quite some time now had finally exited the ruined bar and continued down the street; but his eyes widened in a bit of surprise. His HUD zoomed in to focus on the blond woman that had been thrown out of the bar. She was now moving along with Titus' group. "Hold on," he said, "it looks like your friend's team has a passenger."

"I know, I'm looking at your visor feed now," Sibyl said. "Prophet, can you get me a facial recognition scan? I want to know who she is."

"One moment, please." There was a few seconds of silence as the AI went to work on identifying the new female in the group. Finally, "Subject is former Alliance marine Dianna Henricksen. Reports show that she escaped an Alliance military confinement facility on Keckson several weeks ago; imprisoned for the first degree murder of her former CO. A biotic; vanguard class, and very deadly. I recommend extreme caution if you run into her."

"New friend?" Adam suggested.

"Probably," Sibyl answered. "Keep your guard up, but I want your eyes on Janis even more. It's him I'm more worried about. He may look like a smooth talker in his file, but he's also a deadly accurate assassin. One of my... or the Illusive Man's best."

"Roger that. They're on the move... and so am I."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Commander Jonathan Titus Character Portrait: Adam Harrison Character Portrait: Dianna Henricksen Character Portrait: Sibyl Carson Character Portrait: Janis Freeman
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Jal'Ishtet nar Idenna sat in one of the dark corners at the other end of the bar, completely alone and out of earshot of others. Titus and his crew wasted no time in making for him. Dianna broke off halfway there and took up a seat at the bar. Serena positioned herself against a wall facing toward Jal', keeping to the shadows. It was only Titus and Janis that joined their contact at his corner booth. The quarian's digits began nervously fumbling on the table's surface when the humans sat down across from him.

"You must be the Illusive Man's attack dog," Jal' asserted.

Titus maintained a steady frown, but narrowed his eyes. He could tell the quarian was trying to put on a tough look, but he clearly wasn't any good at it. "One of them. Jal'Ishtet, I presume?"

The quarian began looking in every direction around the bar, with barely visible eyes behind the darkened green visor hiding his face bouncing up and down, and from left to right. When he was sure that all was clear and no one was eavesdropping on the conversation, he raised a nervously shaking hand and begged, "Quiet! I can't be seen or heard talking to you. And I caution you using my name."

Janis shook his head. "We've shipped the Hallex to the loading bay of your choosing, Jal'," he said. "Just tell us what we want to know and you'll never have to see us again. Trust us; no one's going find out we ever talked."

Jal' relaxed a bit, but his eyes still darted around the room. They eventually stopped and locked onto Dianna, who was still sitting at the bar. "I've seen her before," he said. "She's with one of the gangs here on Omega; and I know for a fact that she's not Cerberus. How many other outsiders are aware we're meeting here? So far, you're not doing a very good job of earning my trust."

"You wanna talk trust?" Janis scolded. "How hypocritical is that? You're the one who's trading off classified information that will allow us to infiltrate the Migrant Fleet, betraying the trust of your own people."

"You humans have a saying: 'Trust is a two-way street.' My own people betrayed me first, Cerberus. I offered them a gift upon my return from the pilgrimage, but my captain rejected it. He said that my gift was unworthy of being accepted. Hallex may be a hallucinogen, but certain properties of the drug can be extracted for medical purposes. Each dose contains high concentrations of tygliceride-folic acid. A modified folic acid that only be produced through the chemical combinations found in the drug. TF18, as the medical experts have labeled it, can be used to fight a number of infections that my people are vulnerable to every time there's a simple valve leak."

"Let me guess," John said. "You offered a bunch of Hallex to the captain of the Idenna; but he refused. He didn't understand your intentions and he didn't give you a chance to explain their medical benefits."

The quarian nodded. "He didn't trust me. So to hell with them all."

There was a noise from inside Janis' jacket pocket and the man reach inside to take out a small communicator. He glanced briefly at the screen before getting up the seat. He glance down to Titus and quickly said, "Excuse me. I have to take this." The man swiftly walked through the bar and ducked out of the entrance. Titus didn't really think much of it. As a double-agent, the man must always be busy answering both Cerberus' and Oracle's bidding. He could only guess who was trying to get a hold of him now. What was really none of his business, and he wouldn't dare try and guess what the call was about either, fearing it would open a can of worms or simply cloud his judgment with too many negative thoughts. At times, secrets are best left with their keepers.




Adam remained in the shadows, but kept his adaptive cloaking system online as an added precaution. He had only been staking out the bar for a few minutes before Janis came walking outside. A pocket communicator was in his palm, and from the looks of the glow on his face from the screen, he guessed he was in the middle of a video conference. It had to be Cerberus. After Sibyl's startling investigation revealing Janis as a double-agent, there was no reason in the galaxy for Oracle to be contacting him now.

Harrison waiting on the sidelines and observed Janis speaking into the communicator. For a moment, it seemed as if it was just a normal, everyday conversation, but something suddenly changed and the man's expression turned to one of surprise. The Cerberus operative looked over his shoulder, in Adam's direction, and the Oracle agent froze solid. He was sure that Janis was staring right at him, but after the man turned away to look elsewhere, Adam relaxed. Still, things weren't quite right. Janis was definitely making sure that no one was listening in on the conversation, and Harrison knew for certain that whoever Janis was speaking to had just told him something unsettling. This was quickly confirmed when the man revealed a pistol from within his jacket and terminated the call on the communicator. Janis took one last look around before heading back inside the bar, a determined look in his eye.

"Shit!" Adam hissed as he darted from the shadows, his cloak flickering as the processor fought to keep up with his dead sprint.




Titus and Jal' were just about wrapped up with their meeting before he heard Janis over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Commander Titus; but it appears I've been ordered to eliminate you."

"What?" Titus shot around in his seat only to stare down the barrel of Janis' pistol. The man had aimed it at him so fast that Serena and Dianna hardly had the time to react. Both of the women had their own weapons drawn and pointed at Janis, but neither dared to fire for fear of putting Titus' own life at risk. All of them knew that under the expensive attire, Janis still charging up biotics would most certainly force Janis to execute Titus on the spot.

"It appears your friend has caught me red handed. My access to Oracle resources has been cut off, and the Illusive Man has personally ordered me to terminate your contract with Cerberus."

"I don't understand. What have I done to the Illusive Man? Why am I even involved?"

"The Man has seen your loyalty to Cerberus waver for some time now. Sibyl sought to take advantage of that and recruit you to Oracle; but the Man thought he'd give you another chance and sent me to persuade you otherwise. I was to never deliver Sibyl's offer to you, but instead work to ensure you stay where you are. It seems though that my cover has been blown, and the boss wants me to simply kill you before another of the Operator's agents reaches you."

Janis' finger slowly squeezed on the pistol's trigger, but before it could be pulled back far enough to fire a round into Titus' skull, something burst through the front door of the bar and explosion just meters from away from the two of them sent Janis flying through the air and leaving Titus' completely deaf. Only after a few seconds of fighting off the disorientation did John recognize the effects of a high-impact concussion grenade. Whoever tossed it had just saved his life. He struggled to gain his balance when he crawled away from the booth, still fighting off the dizziness. His hearing was muffled and his sight was hazy. Seconds later, he felt someone lifting him to his feet. He glanced up to see Serena's concerned face. Her lips were moving, but he could hardly understand what she was saying. Finally, her words became clear.

"Titus?! Answer me dammit! Are you alright?!"

"I'm fine!" he managed to say.

Dianna's voiced called out to them. "Hey! We're not done yet!" They both looked from her to the man she was pointed a gun at, wearing white and black armor with no logos. His visor was pitch black with multiple blue slits of light forming a chevron pattern. He was wielding on the Alliance's new Valkyrie assault rifles, but wasn't pointing it at any of them. Titus looked back over his shoulder to see an unconscious Janis lying on the floor. Jal' was ducking below the table they had been sitting at, in fear for his life.

"It's fine, Dianna," Titus said, gently removing Serena's hand from his shoulder as well. "I don't think this guy is our enemy." He looked into the visor of his mysterious savior and asked, "Am I right?"

"Adam Harrison," the stranger said behind the visor. "I don't have time to explain, but I'm with Oracle. You can either come with me or-"

"They're they are! Get 'em!"

Everyone in the bar whirled around to see a gang of mercs bursting through the door with brandished weapons. From the look of the armor, Titus guessed they were with the last gang that Dianna's previous employer had been meeting with. Harrison opened fire before the first man through the door could pull his own trigger. "Out the back! Move!" Dianna and Adam kept the new comers suppressed as Serena and John led the way to the back of the bar. They charged through the a storage room and Adam briefly stopped to topple over a large supply rack to block off the door. They used the extra minute he bought them to sprint out the back door to the bar and disappear into a filthy alley on the other side.

The four of the kept running, with Adam leading the way. "We need to get back to the Vindicator," Titus exclaimed.

"No can do," Serena replied. "You heard Freeman. The Illusive Man wants you dead. Cerberus Command will already overridden EDI by now. The Vindicator won't budge until reinforcements arrive at Omega to take her back."

"I sure know how to pick 'em," Dianna quipped. "In less than an hour I'm already having to look for new work."

"Don't sell us out that easily, miss," Titus retorted. "You'll only miss more fun. Anyway," he looked back to Serena, "what's the plan, then?"

For the first time in a long time, his second-in-command was a loss for words. She struggled to think, but the entire situation was unbelievable. One minute they were being praised by their boss for their successes, and the next he's wanting them dead. "I don't know," she finally said.

"Perhaps I can be of further assistance," Harrison said. "The Operator didn't send me here alone. There's an Aurora frigate not far from where the Vindicator is docked now; the Marathon. We can be there in minuets if we take a sky car."

Titus, Serena, and Dianna all slowed to a stop in the middle of the street. The gang that was chasing them was nowhere around for the time being, all of them desperately needed to catch their breath. Adam wasn't phased in the slightest from the constant running, however; and turned around to look at them as if he was waiting on a child to hurry up their shoe.

"I appreciate the offer," Titus said, "but I don't know you."

John saw Adam placed two fingers to the side of his helmet for a few seconds. It was evident he was communicating to someone, probably a contact on the ship he had mentioned. What he didn't expect to happen was a hologram emit directly between them, and the figure of Sibyl Carson materialize in the middle of the street. She stood with hands on her hips and a stern look in her eyes. "Commander Johnathan Titus, get on that damn ship!"

He could only smile and say, "Nice to see you too, Sib."




Veronica dashed outside the airlock leading to the Marathon where Titus was standing, speaking with Adam. Her eyes were fixed on the datapad in her hand. "John, we've got a problem."

Titus turned away from Adam and asked, "I'm guessing we're missing someone, right?"

"Just one: Vala Buchan."

This took the commander by complete surprise. Of all the people that could have been missing, he would thought Vala would be the last. "I thought she would have been transported with the other medical bay patients."

"She woke up from the anesthetic shortly after you left the Vindicator. She insisted upon leaving the bay, as she did the last time she was supposed to be on recovery status, and no one has seen her since."

Titus brought a palm to his face. "This day just keeps getting better and better."

"I'm sorry, Titus," Adam said, "but we have to go... now."

The blast door on the far side of the docking bay whooshed open and the three of them saw Janis Freeman dashing into view with a large device in his hands. Only when he shouldered it did they realize that he was carrying an ML-77 rocket launcher. Harrison ushered the Titus and Dr. Porter into the airlock and spun around quickly to place a several shots from his Valkyrie down range toward Janis. One of the rounds managed to impact the man's leg right as he pulled the trigger on the launcher, sending a rocket off target. The projectile impacted with a bulkhead near the airlock; a little too close for comfort.

When all of them were safely inside's the ship's own airlock, Adam commanded, "Helmsman! Disengage docking protocols! Get us to the nearest mass relay!"

"Aye-aye, sir," an unfamiliar voice answered over the intercom. A second later the three of them heard multiple metallic clanks as the locks disengaged from the dock's bridge. They were now safely drifting away from the station. Titus was the first out of the airlock, making his way through completely unknown territory, trying to find a window anywhere on what appeared to be the Marathon's bridge. When he finally found one, he pressed himself up against the glass to see the docked Vindicator, only four ports down from where the Marathon had been a minute ago, becoming ever more distant.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Braden Reynolds Character Portrait: Commander Jonathan Titus Character Portrait: Jacob Torx Character Portrait: Darcy Mansfield Character Portrait: Adam Harrison Character Portrait: Stephen "Sentry" Valentine
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Mass Effect
On the Edge
Season 3


Image


Jonathan Titus carefully stood just before the middle of the three large glass windows of the observation deck on what Oracle called “the Lookout”; a space station developed in secret, and masked by the bulk of the Alliance’s Fifth Fleet guarding Earth. This lone station served no military purpose, nor a diplomatic one; it was simply an outpost and small intelligence hub. In essence, it was just another dot among Oracle’s vast network of secret locations all throughout the Milky Way.

As Titus looked out over Earth, far below the Lookout, he wondered about his crew; or former crew. For the past two months he had simply been Jonathan Titus: former Alliance, former Cerberus, and now a simple civilian under the careful watch and custody of Oracle and the Alliance. In a sense, he was a prisoner; and he was waiting for the results of his commutation hearing.

Though Sibyl had personally vouched for Titus and his crew, the commutation board would have to render their unbiased ruling. Which of them would be deemed worthy to return to active duty for the Alliance? Which of them would be let go but barred from service? And which of them would be faced with war crimes, terrorism, dereliction of duty (had they been former Alliance); or charged with treason, espionage, sabotage, or anything else the board could dig up?

Whatever a price Jonathan would be forced to pay, if he must, he would gladly do so. He had no fear of what might happen to him, but he did fear for the men and women that had served Cerberus under his leadership. He had never, not once, given them an order thought to be malicious, or unbefitting of a soldier’s honor. He could not count a single moment when any of his crew had committed a criminal act, or done something that would be considered heinous or a war crime; save for the fact that they worked for Cerberus. That alone had been the whole reason for the stripping of his rank, and the detention under Oracle supervision. That alone was what the commutation board was dealing with right now. Yes, they had worked for a terrorist organization, and had carried out orders personally handed down by the galaxy’s most feared villain. Yet, in the process, they had managed to hold onto their dignity, their humanity.

As Jonathan stood there, with hands buried in his trouser pockets, he thought of Darcy and his witty jokes. The man’s careless bravado had pulled his ass out of the fire more times than one; and always a laughable punch line ready when he flew the Vindicator in for a daring rescue. Jonathan also thought of Lance, and how much he has grown and come to understand that hatred is a means only to the end of a man himself. Then there was Serena, her grace and professionalism always providing a worthy second opinion to any situation. If it wasn’t for her, Jonathan would lack in both the strength and wisdom he had come to gain over his time with Cerberus. And Veronica; oh, Veronica… Since he had been confined to the Lookout, Jonathan has only seen her but a few times. The entire crew had been separated and still remained apart from one another. He longed to look into her eyes again, to feel her breath against his lips, to embrace her in his arms.

And what of the children, Braden and Elizabeth? Would they be tried as war criminals despite their young age? Or the turians, Villayn and his lieutenants? There was also Sentry, who had just come aboard their mission, eager and ready to do the galaxy some good by putting his solidified knowledge of tech and weapons up against Reaper forces. And Elizabeth’s mother, Nina, who had been with them since the mission to Hephaestus, working alongside Terrance on upgrading some of the Vindicator’s more advanced tech.

These men and women were far more than just Cerberus grunts carrying out galactic crimes. They were and still are dignified, caring, and good-hearted people. During his own commutation hearing, their commander spoke for every single one of them. There was not a name on the Vindicator’s roster that he had not personally known and he had not vouched for. When the board asked what he thought of himself… He replied, “Ask my crew.”

Then there was Dianna Henricksen. Before picking her up on Omega, Titus had no idea that Dianna was actually an escaped convict and fugitive murderer wanted by the Alliance. This had come at little surprise to Titus. After all, she wouldn't be the only murderer on the Vindicator crew. But how would she fair in her own commutation hearing? Would the Alliance lock her back up?

Footsteps approached and stopped just beside him. He recognized Sibyl out of his peripherals and sighed before asking, “Well? What’s the verdict?”

He refused to look at her face, worried that the expression would only disappoint him, or give him the wrong idea. So, instead, he waited for her reply, clenching his fists in his pockets.

“Well…,” Sibyl quietly began, crossing her arms and looking out of the window at Earth with the same gloomy stance as her longtime friend, “…you’ll need a new uniform. I’m thinking one of blue and gold?”

Titus’s head jerked a full ninety degrees, so fast that he barely noticed the numbing pop in his neck. “Seriously?!”

Sibyl opened a clinched fist and revealed a brass pin in her palm, the Alliance’s arching “A” emblem. “You, and every one of your crew, have been cleared of all charges and offered a place in Oracle. While you aren’t officially apart of any of the Alliance’s fleet, you are Alliance again, nonetheless. You’re just working for me now.”

“Everyone?” Titus asked, still finding it hard to believe.

“Everyone,” Sibyl confirmed, nodding with a smile. “The two children you brought along were definitely a matter of debate for the board. But in light of your ability to teach, control, and above all, protect them; they deemed it okay for the kids to remain under your custody and supervision. However, you’re not Cerberus anymore. And while Oracle may or may not have skirted the lines of galactic treatise, we cannot condone child soldiers. Braden Reynolds is to no longer be used as a military asset. Is that clear?”

“Crystal, ma’am,” Titus nodded.

“Good. Welcome back, Captain.” Sibyl moved gracefully around and started walking toward the opposite end of the room that she had entered from.

“Captain?” Titus inquired, hastening to catch up to her.

Sibyl, again, smiled at his surprise. “You heard me right, Captain. The board cleared you of charges and handed you over to me; so to me falls the decision of your rank. I’ve decided to give you back the rank you had on your previous tour with the Alliance. Besides, a cruiser is better suited for a captain than a commander.”

“Oracle has a cruiser?”

“I see we’ve got a lot of talking to do,” Sibyl jested. “Come. Let’s take a walk.”




“Officer on deck!” one of the servicemen yelled to the top of his lungs as Sibyl Carson and Captain Titus boarded the Marathon. They had exited one of the portside airlocks and walked straight into the cruiser’s bridge; where every man and woman that had been working diligently at their stations stopped to stand at attention. The serviceman who had announced their presence was rendering a stiff and disciplined salute. “Ma’am. Sir,” he said in greeting.

Sibyl returned a salute of her own and shouted, “Carry on!” The bridge’s occupants returned to their work immediately.

Titus noted that the Marathon’s bridge was much larger than the CIC on the Vindicator. Then again, this was a cruiser; and a bridge is more than just a Combat Information Center. It’s the entire administration department of the ship. Communications, navigation, mission control, and warfare suites are all monitored and manipulated on the bridge. The helm, which was built in just below the bridge’s main deck, was ahead and to the left of the airlock, down a small ramp. That’s where Sibyl and Titus were headed to now.

“Darcy!” Jonathan said out of excitement to see his trusted helmsman and friend seated at the primary control terminal in the center of the stretched-out deck.

The man, who never looked better in a pristine Alliance uniform, jumped from his chair and bear hugged Titus. “Forgive the insubordination, Captain, but it’s damn good to see you! I was sure they were going to can you and put you in shackles.”

“Come on, Darcy,” Titus said. “If a control freak like the Illusive Man can’t hold me down, who is there that can?”

“True that.”

Titus nodded to Darcy’s controls. “So how does the Marathon compare to the Vindicator?”

“Well it’s like comparing a dog to a cat. Bigger, badder, and definitely a lot meaner; but not as quick and agile. However, where the Marathon lacks in mobility, it makes up for in flexibility. We’ve got four hangar bays with fighters and interceptors always ready to dish out some quick and deadly striking power in case we run up against frigates. And get this: our fighters are armed with new Thanix missiles capable of ripping a giant hole in ships the size of the Vindicator. Someone’s got to be pretty ballsy to take us on.”

Titus smiled, but more in response to seeing how happy and enthusiastic Darcy was. The man hadn’t lost a bit of his humorous charm since putting on that blue and white uniform. The two finished up their conversation and Titus let Darcy continue with whatever he was doing before he got there, and Sibyl led the way back into the bridge.

“Captain,” the familiar voice of Serena Taylor said over Titus’ shoulder.

Titus whirled around to find Taylor smiling at him; a datapad held down at her side. Her blond hair had been tied back into a neat ponytail and kept up and off her shoulders and the collar of her Alliance uniform.

“Taylor,” Titus said with a smile. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Likewise,” she responded.

“So are you still my second in command?” he asked.

“What else would I be?” she asked with a grin.

“Well I’m sure Sib can always assign you to the mess hall,” Titus joked.

Taylor laughed and replied, “You know damn well I can’t cook. Oh and since the Alliance didn’t exactly have a rank for me, your friend, Miss Carson, pinned on a Staff Commander medal.”

“Commander Taylor,” Titus said, getting the feel of the rank and name. “Now that’s hot.”

As Sibyl and Titus continued their tour of the Marathon, Titus took the time to ask her a few questions regarding the ship itself.

“The frigate that picked me up on Omega was also named the Marathon. Does Oracle have two Marathons, or what?”

“Correct,” Sib said. “The frigate is named after the Battle of Marathon in 490 BCE, and the cruiser is named after the same city. Greek-Athenian history. The frigate uses the same stealth technology that the Normandy SR had. We tried to find ways to apply the same tech to a cruiser, but as it just happens, that’s a little out of our technological league right. But we haven’t given up on the idea. We wanted to give you the cruiser, rather than the frigate, because we’re well aware that the Illusive Man has several of his cronies looking for you right now and the extra muscle will help.”

“Thanks,” Titus mumbled, unsure just how eager Invaru and Ross must be to get their hands on him.

“All of your fighters, interceptors, and Kodiak shuttles are equipped with stealth tech, though. So don’t worry, you can still get the drop on your enemies planetside.”

“How many other ships does Oracle have?”

“Militarized ships? That’s it. One frigate, one cruiser; both named the Marathon. We have several recon frigates, but they aren’t built for combat and have only defensive weapon systems. If Oracle ever needs to use any heavy hitters, we call up Aurora.”

“The Aurora Initiative?” Titus stopped in the middle of the corridor they were walking through. “I remember running into them a couple of times.”

Sibyl stopped and turned to face her friend. “Yes; and I’m sorry about that, Jonathan. You’ll be pleased to know that I personally insured Captain Shire was replaced as the director of the Aurora Initiative.”

“Who’s in charge of it now?”

Sibyl grinned. “You’ll see soon enough.”

The ship was noticeably darker than the lighter, utilitarian environment of a Cerberus vessel. While the chrome and osmium was still there, as reflective and brilliant as ever, the corridors and main areas of the decks were kept in low light. This was typical of most Alliance warships. Even though a cruiser had enough power to light a city, much of that energy was reserved for emergency situations; thus non-essential systems, including unnecessary lights, were only used when they were actually needed.

The Marathon was comprised of ten decks and was currently home to two hundred and fifty souls. Not surprisingly, however, the decks weren’t all that crowded. With ten of them, more than twice the space the Vindicator had, there was plenty of room for the marines and servicemen to move about unhindered and not feel cramped.

The first deck was the bridge, helm, primary QEC chamber, and the Captain’s Quarters. Sibyl and Titus were now traversing the fifth deck, which held two of the enlisted ranks quarters, the gymnasium, lounge, mess hall, and an observation deck on each side of the ship.

Titus had to admit, he was greatly impressed with the Marathon. It had a bolstering amount of resources that rivaled Cerberus cruisers, and the technological upgrades that Oracle had installed made it a finally cut gem. The more he toured the ship, the wider his smile became and the more excited he was to be back in an Alliance uniform. As he moved throughout the decks and their corridors, he saw familiar faces. Veronica was as happy as ever to kiss him and whisper devious plans for the night in his ear; and the turian trio went out of their way to actually smile and slug his shoulder (all three of them). Lance, of course, was already talking up an egotistical storm about how he made his “new uniform shit look good”; and the timid Braden Reynolds grappled onto Titus’ torso without shame. Sentry wouldn’t shut up about all the new toys he’s able to play with now in the armory on deck seven; and Dianna set aside her moodiness long enough to actually nod in Titus’ direction.

Dianna simply being there meant good news. But curious as to why, Titus asked Sibyl, "Mind if I ask how Miss Henricksen survived her hearing?"

"She never had one," was all that Sibyl replied with. The neutral tone and obvious unwillingness to carry that conversation forward let Titus know that, that was all he needed to know. Besides, it wouldn't really surprise him too much if Oracle had other blacklisted or disavowed assets working for them.

Now on deck seven, Titus and Sibyl had just left the armory and were headed towards the hangar bays. Before they arrived, however, Sibyl took a detour and headed in a completely different direction. Titus noted that the sign on the bulkhead read “Training Chambers” next to the arrow pointed to wear Sibyl was heading for.

“What am I going to find down here?” Titus asked as they passed through the opening blast doors and into a large white chamber in the shape of a giant box. The lighting in the room was practically blinding compared to the darker environment of the rest of the ship and Titus’ eyes had to take a second or two to adjust.

When he could see clearly again, there was a man standing ahead of them wearing a black tank top, cargo pants, and combat boots. Sweat dripped down his face and forehead as he concentrated on the cushion-clad opponent before him. The two were holding what appeared to be katana.

“What in the…” Titus began.

“Captain, I’m sure you remember Agent Harrison,” Sibyl said, gesturing an open hand to the man in the tank top, who was now lashing out skillfully at his training opponent. The suited man deflected the swipes with ease, but Harrison used his free hand and struck his opponent with what Titus instantly recognized as a biotic push. The tell-tale violet hue and electric pulses were unmistakable.

“So he’s a spy, a ninja, and a biotic?”

“Agent Harrison,” Sibyl replied, “is one of the first recruits of a new initiative Oracle is heading off. You and I both know from experience in the field that the N7 program needs more than just muscle nowadays. It needs flexibility, ingenuity, and variety. I’m making sure they get that, and I’ll be the one to deliver. The recruits aren’t ready yet, but someday soon… they will be. You should see some of the other specialists we’re training up. Biotic ninja spies are only the beginning.” She finished her last sentence with a smirk.

Harrison relaxed his katana and walked over to where Carson and Titus were standing. “Sir,” he said, and offered a salute after transitioning the sword to his left hand. After the Captain returned his own salute, Harrison said, “If I may, it’s an honor to be serving under your command. I’ve read your dossier and you had quite the reputation in the N7 before you left. Even all the stuff you did when you worked with Cerberus is commendable.”

Titus never got to see the face agent that saved his life since he had never removed his visor, but now that he was looking the man in his brown eyes, he was quite surprised to see how young Harrison was. The first words out of his mouth were, “How old are you, kid?”

“Twenty, sir,” he instantly replied.

“You weren’t much older when you started hitting your stride, Jonathan,” Sibyl reminded. “Adam, here, in more ways than one, is a lot like you.”

“Adam, huh?” Titus extended an open hand and the young man took it with a firm shake. “Glad to have you on the team.”

“Glad to be here,” he replied. Adam’s handshake was relaxed, loose; the sign of a very timid young man. His physique was average, but that was typical of most biotics since it was hard to gain a lot of muscle when they constantly burned anything they ate within a matter of a few hours. His smile was wide, eyes soft, and his short brown hair a slight mess. He looked as though he should be in college, rather than be an N7 marine with a damn sword.




Braden’s room wasn’t as spacious as the one he had on the Vindicator, but it did come with more shelf space for personal effects, a bookcase filled with an assortment of novels for teens (courtesy of Sibyl Carson), and a private bathroom. The bathroom had to be the one thing that the boy was most thankful for, as Cerberus vessels hardly account for dependents of crew members to be aboard, especially minors. Braden had to take care of business in the latrine aboard the Vindicator like everyone else, but had to time his showers carefully, with an officer standing outside to hold off anyone until he was done; per Titus’ strict orders.

The room was still an officer’s quarters, however, and so he had the luxury of a double-windowed view of the galaxy, perfect ambient lighting for relaxation, carpeting soothing to tired feet, and cushioned furniture that one could fall asleep on instantaneously. Another accommodation that his new room had, that the one on the Vindicator didn’t, was a music system with hidden speakers in every wall.

Braden approached the small haptic interface on the wall that controlled his sound system and surfed through the many different tracks until he found a title that seemed familiar. When he pressed the play command, the speakers allowed the music to slowly fade in. He instantly recognized the opening beats and strings of the new age track and his mind raced back to his days on Omega. He remembered the song as one of many popular hits that entertained the various drug-induced, alcohol-poisoned, patron scum of Afterlife. In an instant, he was lost in painful memories.

“Who’s this?” one of Gavin’s clients asked. The constant flashing of red and orange club lights distorted the human’s facial expressions, but Braden knew the man was grinning by the malicious sound of his voice.

Gavin’s calloused hand tightened over Braden’s shoulder, sparking pain from a very recently inflicted wound, and barked, “Not for sale.”

“Is he at least available for rent?” the human asked, waving a credit chit in the air, further impressing the two asari glued to either side of him at his VIP booth.

Gavin’s silence meant that he was considering the offer, probably debating a price. Braden actually prayed that he would accept. One night, that’s all he asked for; one night to get away from his batarian owner. He wouldn’t technically be free, probably ever, but it would at least [i]feel
like freedom. Anything was better than being Gavin’s chikolah.

“Two thousand credits,” Gavin demanded. Braden’s hopes were instantly slashed to pieces. Two thousand was a steep price to pay for one night. Gavin always informed the client of his prices based on a nightly fee. The poor boy just knew that the human would refuse to pay that much for him. But yet, he still tried.

“Fifteen,” the human bartered.

“Nineteen,” Gavin countered.

“Make it seventeen, and I’ll buy some of your dust, too.” Braden was shocked. Whoever this man was, he wasn’t going to walk away without a fight. There was still hope after all.

“Fine,” Gavin grunted, shoving Braden so hard and so fast that he flopped over the table, knocking over one of the asari’s drinks. “Don’t be so clumsy, you idiot boy!” Gavin shouted, showing that, even though he was renting out his most prized possession, he still held authority over him. He then said to the human, “One night. That’s it. And the dust will be a thousand; or are you going to try and barter with me on that?”

“Of course not, my friend,” the man said. “And I’ll be sure to return the kid in pristine condition.”[/i]

Lizzie’s knocking dragged Braden back out of his horrible past. She was standing in his doorway, leaning partially inside; a gleeful smile on her face. But that smile quickly faded when she saw her boyfriend trying to fake one of his own. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Uhm, nothing,” Braden stuttered, instantly turning away to hide the tears welling up in his eyes. His free hand shot up to the interface to cut off the music, but before he could return it to his side, he felt Lizzie’s delicate fingers catch his wrist.

“Hey,” she said, her whispering voice soothing to his ears. “You can tell me.”

“You’d never understand.” As much as he hated to say that to her, he knew he was right. How would anyone ever know what he went through without having gone through the same torment themselves? How does one tell another that they were a slave; bidded on, used and abused over and over. He was nothing but a toy to sadistic psychopaths, drunkards, and drug addicts. He was a ruthless batarian’s pet and personal property.

“Maybe not,” Lizzie replied. “But you can still talk to me about it. I’m always willing to listen to you, no matter what or when.” Elizabeth’s hand tightened around Braden’s and they stood there for a moment, together in silence.

“Okay,” the boy finally said.




With the targeting reticule lined up for a perfect headshot, Villayn carefully squeezed his talon back on the Viper’s trigger until he felt the recoil of the round firing off and the subtle discharge ringing throughout the long range shooting gallery. Azuric remained peering down the rifle’s scope to observe the headshot in the target’s human-shaped silhouette.

“Very nice,” Sentry’s voice commented over the range’s intercom, coming from the safety of the control room behind Villayn. “Keep that up and you’ll be able to knock out one target per minute.”

“It would be easier for me to concentrate without the sarcasm,” the captain quipped. “Besides, perfect precision shots like that require patience. Something I doubt a loose-cannon like yourself would understand.”

Villayn heard Sentry’s happy chuckle before the armorer replied, “Is that a challenge?”

“Please,” Azuric said. “Don’t be so foolish. A turian can out-shoot a human any day.”

“Someone’s cocky.”

The hissing of the blast doors at the back of the gallery caught Villayn’s attention and he turned his head to see Darak walking inside. Thumbing a talon over his shoulder, the lieutenant said, “Have you checked out the gym yet? Two whole stories. Pretty nice.” Darak stopped next to Villayn and turned to look down the range at his captain’s target. After shrugging his shoulders he said, “Good, but... not your best.”

Sentry started balling in laughter over the intercom as Villayn leaned back, appearing to be visibly insulted his lieutenant’s observation. But he soon dropped the act and said, “I admit, maybe I’ve lost my touch after two months of not being allowed to handle a weapon. I didn’t think the Alliance would actually hold us in custody along with the rest of Titus’ crew. Not until the hierarchy officially gave us the cold shoulder, anyway.”

“Yes, but it was definitely for the best, sir,” Darak reminded him. “I much prefer what we’re doing now anyway.”




The main conference room on the Marathon was a lot larger than the one on the Vindicator, though not as dramatically perplexing; that is, it didn’t have a giant half-dome that looked out into the depths of space. Instead, it was enclosed by in an oval of glass, where the walls of the corridor wrapping around the outside had several mounted paintings from the late 21st century, a few more recent masterpieces; all of which were of a contemporary style. The glass surrounding the conference room doubled as both a sound barrier and a cradle for several screens of information. White lighting kept the area brightly lit, a nice contrast from the rest of the ship.

Captain Titus was seated at the head of the oval table, with many other faces, some new and some familiar, occupying the other seats. Titus held a blue datapad in his hand and quietly scanned through the briefs of each person at the table. After taking a moment to collect his thoughts, he placed the datapad on the surface of the black, marble-top table, leaned back in his chair, and said, “Well. It will definitely take me some time to memorize each of your names, but no more than a few days, tops. Anyway, let’s move on to the first order of business; which will be the cooperation between the ex-Cerberus personnel that served with me before and now, and the have-been Alliance personnel also serving aboard this ship. I want to make this perfectly clear: we are all in this fight together, through thick and thin. If anyone has a problem working with another individual aboard this ship, they are expected to speak up to their supervisor... with the proper paperwork in hand requesting a transfer to a new assignment. I have a very low tolerance for childish bickering.

“Now that I’ve made myself clear on that issue; let’s move on to something lighter. Security, for instance.” Titus looked down the table towards a man with strikingly white hair and a matching beard. Though his hair would make one assume the man is ready for retirement, he was enjoying a good stride in his mid thirties. “Staff Lieutenant Torx,” the Captain addressed.

“Sir.”

“How strong is your unit?”

As if expecting the question right from the start, the Marathon’s Chief of Security Operations replied with a slight Texan accent, “Twenty are ‘round-the-clock security specialists, Captain. They operate on rotating shifts. The rest of the one hundred and twenty-five marines aboard the Marathon are all capable of performing security tasks should we be boarded.”

“Sounds good.” Titus looked down one seat toward Sentry. “Weapons count, Sentry?”

With a smile, the armorer replied, “I’ve got 200 Avengers, 75 Mattocks, 20 Mantises and Vipers, 100 M-77’s, 100 Katanas - er, the shotgun kind, not the fancy sword kind that boy-wonder has.” Sentry nodded in Harrison’s direction, who was sitting right across from him. Adam only rolled his eyes and Sentry continued from where he left off. “200 Predators, 50 Phalanxes, and... well, a whole shit ton of other goodies. I even have a few Argus assault rifles down there.”

“So we have enough to start a Second Contact War,” Titus mused. “Good.”

Titus’s eyes moved to the opposite side of the table and he scanned down until he found a young first class serviceman with dark brown hair and a not-quite-five o’clock shadow. He had to be as young as Adam by the looks of it. “Connor... DeMarco, was it?”

The young serviceman nervously straightened his posture in his chair and stammered out a quick “Yes, sir!”

“Don’t be so skittish, kid,” Titus remarked. “You’re my comm specialist, correct?”

“That’s correct, sir. I monitor all in- and out-bound tactical communiques, maintain the QECs and Prophet’s connection, and I’m also your primary handler in the field.”

“And off the field?” Harrison asked aloud, looking right at Connor.

Everyone in the room found themselves glancing back and forth between the two men, wondering just what in the world Harrison was referring to, especially when Connor's blushing red face started to contrast with the white and blue of his uniform.

“Okay...,” Titus said, finally halting the awkward moment. “Well, DeMarco, welcome to the team. Moving on...”

[Begin playing Infinite, Immortal - from Fired Earth Music]

By the time Titus had briefly learned the job of everyone in the conference room, his heavy eyes beckoned sleep and he decided it was time to wrap up their little meet n’ greet. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, standing up from his seat, “this mission is not going to be an easy one. Our goals are many, and diverse. Cerberus is hell-bent on ensuring that I’m dead, and Oracle is buried. The Collectors are going to continue to try and abduct unsuspecting humans from fringe colonies. And, hell, I’m sure the Shadow Broker is planning on making a few plays, himself. But no matter who our enemy is, or what they throw at us, or how long we must travel the stars; nothing can stop us as long as we stick together. Lives are counting on our success, people. Let’s not let them down. Dismissed.”




"Are you ready, Captain?" Commander Taylor asked as Titus walked up to stand beside her at the galaxy map. "Way-points plotted and uploaded to the helm. Waiting on Alliance Naval Traffic Control to give us the green light."

Titus smiled and he held his shoulders back, taking in a deep breath as he glanced around the bridge. All eyes were now on him. Everyone had stopped what they were doing, waiting for the go-order from both the traffic controllers and Titus himself. Far ahead at the helm, Titus could see Darcy turning around in his seat to also join in on the dramatic stare, silhouetted by the full magnificent glow of Earth far below them all.

The speakers in the ceiling above crackled and a male's voice echoed through the bridge. "A-N-T-C to Marathon, standby for green light."

This was it.

Thirty seconds later, the voice came back. "A-N-T-C to Marathon, you are green in three.... two.... one. Clear to leave station. ... Good luck, Marathon."

Titus opened his mouth, but paused momentarily to savor this moment. It's not everyday you get launch off on a new mission with a new ship and new crew members. When he was ready, and when everyone had just about had enough of hanging onto the edge of their seats to hear the few simple words, the Captain bellowed, "You heard the man! Darcy! Put us on course to the Sol Relay!"

"Aye-Aye, Captain!" Darcy yelled back over the deafening sound of applause that filled the entirety of the command deck.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Braden Reynolds Character Portrait: Commander Jonathan Titus Character Portrait: Adam Harrison Character Portrait: Connor DeMarco Character Portrait: Sibyl Carson
Tag Characters » Add to Arc »

0.00 INK

Nearly a hundred different thoughts flashed through Titus’ cramped mind as he marched his way toward the main sick bay on the Marathon’s third deck. After having made it out of the Cube in one piece and safely away from the chaos of the panicking civilians, him and his group immediately made for the cruiser. While they were still docked, he asked C-Sec to increase patrols around the area in case Buchan decided to turn around and finish what Titus knew she originally came to do.

He was angry, and for many reasons. Harrison was almost killed by a former ally, Braden decided to play hero... again, his Chief of Security nearly disobeyed a direct order, and innocent civilians were placed in harm’s way. But above all else, he was mostly angry with himself. He let his arrogance fool him into thinking that it was safe to show his face in a very public setting. He put others’ lives in danger along with his own.

There was a hiss as the double sliding glass doors to the medical bay opened before him. The Captain maintained his approach and walked straight through the front lobby and down a small corridor that led to the private examination rooms. He turned into an open doorway, where a small LED sign on the wall outside was labelled with a glowing blue “3”, and found Veronica looking intently at a tall display of a human being’s biometric profile. The particular human was Adam Harrison, who sat atop the exam table wearing only a short-sleeved, thigh-length patient gown. Braden Reynolds sat in a chair next to the table, sipping on a small box of juice.

“How’s he look?” Titus asked, bringing everyone in the room to face him. Adam tried to stand up off of the exam table to properly acknowledge John’s ranking presence, but the Captain held up a hand to keep him where he was.

Veronica returned to looking at the monitor, rubbing her chin. “No broken bones or even a hint of a single fracture,” she said. “Negative signs of internal bleeding... Only some nasty outer bruising. He’ll be sore for a few days, but some mild exercise and adequate rest will remedy that in no time.”

“How are you feeling?” Titus asked Adam with a slight smile from the good news.

Harrison shrugged his shoulders. “If not for the fact that my pride has taken a ding due to having my ass handed to me by a chick, I’d say I’m feelin’ pretty good. Hungry as shit, though.” Adam glanced down at Braden as soon as the expletive left his mouth. “Uh, sorry.”

Braden rolled his eyes. “Fuck it,” he said, “I hear enough of it on a military vessel.”

“Braden!” Veronica snapped, scowling at the teen.

The young man grinned, but the smile soon faded into a look of complete guilt when his eyes met Titus’. “I’m... sorry, sir... For jumping out there like that.”

“Don’t sweat it, son,” Titus said. The Captain thought he felt his heart skip a beat when that final word left his lips. Son. He sounded like an old man speaking to his own child. He wasn’t sure where it had come from. Was Braden starting to feel like a true son to him after all this time around the kid? He did find himself constantly concerned for the boy, and there was no doubt that a certain affection for him had developed; but it was hard to decipher their relationship.

“I better get up to the QEC and report in to the Operator. I’m sure she’ll want to hear about what went down out there.” Titus turned out of the exam room and headed back towards the lobby of the medical bay, once there he passed by Connor DeMarco, who was quickly making his way into the bay from outside.

“Hi, Captain, is-?”

“Your boyfriend’s fine,” Titus said, cutting him off. “Exam room three.” The Captain pressed on, leaving Connor to continue his false confusion amid deep blushing. Titus couldn’t help but to allow himself a silent chuckle as he left medical bay.




“And who is she?” Sibyl asked, sitting behind her desk in an office deep within Arcturus Station, humanity’s single greatest off-world construct. Before her, projected in the center of the immaculate office by the QEC pad, stood Captain Titus’ hologram.

“Operative Vala Buchan,” he replied. “She’s a deep-cover Cerberus asset, and highly favored by the Illusive Man. She was previously tasked with ensuring Omni Cell’s unity. Having obviously failed at that, it appears her priorities have changed.”

“So the Illusive Man is attempting to tie up any loose ends,” Sibyl said. “And who better than an old friend?”

The question was rhetorical, but Titus replied nonetheless. “Vala and I were never really friends, Sib. She’s... difficult to get along with.”

“Is she a threat?”

“Pardon?”

“I mean,” Sibyl leaned back in her seat and crossed her legs, resting her elbows on the arms of her chair and interlacing her fingers as she continued, “do I need to assign someone to track this woman’s whereabouts and eliminate her from the game, or can you handle her?”

Titus took a moment to consider what Sibyl was asking before answering the question. “Buchan has... changed. There was something way different about her back at the Cube. Before, her biotics were barely strong enough to lift a glass of water. But in that arena, she nearly tore Harrison to shreds with nothing but biotics. It’s obvious she’s had some upgrades, and until I know how much has changed, it’s best you let me take her on by myself. Don’t risk any others until we know the extent of her reach.”

Sibyl raised a curious brow, but conceded. “Very well,” she replied. “Just keep me posted on any changes. And before I let you go, there will be a slight alteration in your course to the Subtle Wind assignment.”

“Oh?”

“Commander Benjamin Slatton will be needing a pick-up. I’ve already had Prophet forward the exact coordinates of the RV point to Flight Lieutenant Mansfield. Before you, he was Oracle’s only active military asset. He had a good crew and ship, but a recent conflict with Cerberus has left him without either.” Sibyl noticed a slight change in her friend’s expression. “Something the matter, Jonathan?”

“Buchan mentioned that we had took a friend of hers, and that we attacked first. If this Commander Slatton is your only other military asset, would he have something to do with that?”

Sibyl smiled. She knew she couldn’t keep anything from her longtime friend for long, and she was glad to see that he was still as sharp as he had been when they served together as marines. “We had captured and detained a Cerberus operative that was serving under Commander Horn. We were holding him at a facility on-”

“Horn?!” Titus’ sudden outburst surprised the woman.

“Yes.”

“When you brought me back into the Alliance and I told you everything I knew about Cerberus, I gave you a list of names, remember? The do-not-fuck-with-these-people list?”

Sibyl grinned. “Ah yes. I believe I misplaced that particular file.”

Titus was unamused by her joking and only sighed in disappointment. “Sib, I realize that you want revenge against Cerberus after what they did to-”

“-Jonathan-”

“-but you have got to take my word on this: there are certain people within that organization that you do not want to cross. Jason Horn is one of them, and after what I saw back in the Cube, you can add Vala Buchan to that list.” Titus sighed again before daring to ask his next question. “Who did you capture?”

“A marine named Daniel Harrens. He calls himself a ‘Demon’. Any idea what that means?”

Titus stared at her with a disturbingly blank expression. “Yeah, this Commander Slatton dude was fucked from the beginning.”




Harder. Faster. Harder. Faster.

Corporal Neal Striker always pushed himself to go above and beyond what was expected of him, even if that meant a few reps of push ups with his brother, Reece. Neal and Reece were twins, both blondes, both slim but fit, and both had a knack for getting into trouble. The kind of trouble they preferred, however, typically involved dangerous mission assignments with a lot of risk and reward.

“You know,” a petite woman’s voice said from above them, “it almost looks like you two are racing.”

Neal glanced up to see Private Nora Waverly standing above them with hands on her hips, leaning over to eye the two as they pumped out their push ups at nearly lightning speed. But she was wrong. They weren’t racing, they were merely keeping pace with one another. It was a twin thing. Whatever workout routine they practiced, they set a pace, typically faster than what most would like, and they stuck with each other.

“Wanna join us, Waverly?” Neal invited, drawing out the words in between his breaths.

“Unless that’s a directive from you as my fire team leader, I’ll pass.”

The Striker twins grinned. “Suit yourself,” Neal said.

Neal and Reece were both leaders of their own fire teams, and members of the Aurora Initiative. While their security clearance was Top Secret and they belonged to an outfit that technically didn’t exist, attached to another branch that also didn’t exist, they were Alliance marines first and foremost. Waverly was one of the members of Neal’s fire team, code named Sierra 004. Reece was in charge of 002. Both teams had hit the gym on the fourth deck for a bit of PT.

As the main doors to the gym hissed open, Neal looked up to get a glimpse of who was walking in.

“Hey, why’d you stop?” Reece demanded, looking at his brother.

Neal didn’t even realize he had stopped in the up position to gawk at the gorgeous light-brunette walking into gym in her PT uniform. Smooth legs, perfectly tuned body, tall, and just damn. Reece finally followed Neal’s widened eyes and... he started staring too.

Both of them shot to their feet at the same time, but Neal placed a hand in front of his brother. “No way, man. I saw her first.”

Reece backed off and shrugged his shoulders. “Go for it, bro. But just know I’ll be right here... waiting for you to fall flat on your ugly face.”

“We share that ugly face,” Neal joked back. “Remember that!”

Neal brought his shoulders back and chest out as he confidently walked over to the gym’s new occupant. When he stood before her, she cast him a curious glance with graceful eyes. Neal took the time to properly position himself so he completely dominated her vision, ensuring Reece couldn’t be seen behind him in the background to screw up his introduction.

With hands behind his back and a sly smile, Neal said, “Hello there, I’m Corporal Neal Striker. I lead fire team zero-zero-four.”

“Oh really?” the woman asked. “You’re a fire team leader, huh? How impressive.”

Catching the slight air of sarcasm in her tone, Neal became hesitant. “Uh, yeah... I didn’t catch your name.”

“Oh sorry,” she said with a flaunt of her wrist towards her chest. “Where are my manners? I’m Rhonda Thomas. Major Rhonda Thomas. I lead all of the fire teams on the Marathon.”

Completely dumbstruck, Neal instantly took a step back and straightened himself out to a position of attention, yelling immediately, “Officer on deck!” Both fire teams quickly fell in beside him in ranking order and according to their team, with 002 directly behind 004.

“Listen up,” Thomas barked, putting herself into a slow pace in front of the detail. “I came down here to find out if the assets I’ve been placed in charge of are capable of proving themselves to be marines. So far, I’m not impressed.”

“Way to go, jackass,” Reece whispered loud enough for his brother to hear him. Unfortunately, it was too loud, and Major Thomas’ eyes shot over to the man.

“Got something to say, Corporal?”

“Negative, ma’am!” Reece answered.

“I think you do. Spit it out!”

Neal could hear his twin swallow hard before shouting. “I was calling my brother a jackass, ma’am!”

The Major grinned before replying, “On that we can agree. Flutter kicks! Drop!”

Reece did as ordered and fell to the floor on his back, bringing his legs up to start kicking in rapid succession with hands hovering just off of the floor and at his sides.