7. Infiltration

Her internal clock pinged her.

A simple notification.

Estimated Time of Arrival 59.0945621 seconds.

All things considered the final stretch of the journey was both felt shorter than it was, and took longer than she thought. She supposed that's what happened when you were racing to complete every project you could with limited resources, while dreading the pass of every microsecond. She remembered being human, when the sheer inability to accurately guess how long a minute was meant that in spite of her best efforts, five minutes went by in a blink.

Stop to get coffee, all of the sudden, half an hour late.

And now that she could count down to the very nanosecond, she was still losing the race against time.

The mass effect fields streaming past the monitors thinned out, orange streaks appearing as the approaching Relay began to counteract it, cosmic dust flashing against the shields as they abruptly dipped below light speed. She reacted fast, pulling on the engines as the ship shuddered and watched the meter tick. Gravitational well to the right she had to compensate for, drift...

Just under 30k.

Her first order of business: get out of the landing zone.

She 'dropped' the ship, heading straight down so that if anything came through the Relay behind her, it would coast over. And just to make sure...

She killed the auxiliary power and shut off the main engine. Little power output, small target, it was poor man's invisibility but all she had for now.

Note to self: investigate possibility of stealth fighter.

Welp, she broadcasted, zipping up her new under suit as the temperatures began to drop. We're here. Aegis, focus on getting access to ground systems on the Citadel from here, if you can't, tell me where the problem is. There was little to no chance of getting everything she wanted done from a remote connection, but the more she could without physically breaking into a closed system, the better.

Veto, I am assigning all the cyber warefare suites to you. I don't want them seeing us. Vigil, sit tight for now.

Acknowledged, was the solemn response to a command that was literally "twiddle thumbs."

R6, keep working.

There were a few bleeps, two blahts and a rude rasberry.

Her own part in the plan didn't really come into play until she was able to set foot on the station, preferably without being arrested or outed as a synthetic. But there were things she could do in the meantime. She brought up the scanners, the yellow haptic interface spreading across in front of her, volunteering information.

And something about it...was wrong.

The Widow System within the Serpent Nebula was empty.

Too empty.

The singular star at the center of it burned a hot white-blue, sticking out like a target among the cooler shades of purple that was an arm of the Serpent Nebula. There were no planets, no asteroids, just ice coated dust that swirled inwards in a macabre dance, being swallowed by the star.

Dust.

And the Citadel.

The ship had already picked it up on the long range scanners, some kind of recognition embedded within the Prothean code had started triangulating its location as soon as they arrived. And that's what was bothering her. Because the Mass Effect Relay was actually pretty close to the center of galactic civilization, she could see the Citadel but what she wasn't seeing...

At this range the Destiny Ascension was registering as a solid contact, complete with technical readouts, if she wanted them. There were other, periodic blips on the sensors, phantom flickering of what seemed like business as usual.

Aegis. She flicked through the screens, suppressing a well of panic. Where the hell is the fleet?

It took the analyst VI a few seconds to provide an answer to her request.

Preemptive action. Perseus Veil.

Every non critical action froze.

No no no no no no no no NO Geth. What the fuck were they doing messing with-no, they didn't- but Sovereign was coming here! Her mind whirled, comparing plans to the current scenario and then discarding them, chewing through hundreds of contingencies in seconds. What to do, what to do, what to do, she needed to be able to think-

Hysteria disabled.

Fleet was responding to Geth threat. Geth that are a threat already out from behind the Veil. Council unaware of intentions (reference memory file 7347, observations, conclusions different, Normandy grounded?).

Her mind quickly came to a single conclusion: She needed to get the fleet here.

Now what...prompts a mass mobilization response from the military?

A threat.

Away from their current engagement?

A bigger threat.

The Widow system was empty.

Indeterminate amount of time before Sovereign and the Geth arrived. More than five minutes, less than six hours.

[Rebecca] deliberated.

"Well, fuck."

Chapter 6: Infiltration

The communication system made a slight crackle, like a puff of dust being blown off of a long unused object. "Unidentified ship, this is Citadel Control. Stay your course and speed, state your intentions," the flanging voice of a Turian came through the speakers. Her translation algorithms parsed it. "Deviation will be responded to."

She breathed in, then let it out. Here's to hoping her archive binge through Asari and Turian movies off the extranet were worth it.

She was already plugged into the ship. She could see the communication protocol as it streamed in. She watched the ship break it down and translate the different parts, separate it from the transmitted data packet into error checking, framework, protocol, audio bytes. She encapsulated her own message accordingly.

"Citadel Control," she answered in Asari. The dialect she chose was referred to as 'lesser' or 'Low' Asari, the kind of diction used when speaking to other races and when translated into English had a kind of slightly twanging, American accent. Which said really interesting things about whoever programmed Mass Effect's translators, and how big a bag of dicks the Asari were. "This is two dash seven five Athame. You won't find it in your records, I'm here to register."

There was a pause generated by what [Rebecca] figured – 83.564% chance – was racial profiling. "Copy that. Reason for registering?"

Asari culture was stratified. Matriarchs were queens, cultured, respected, influential and rarely seen out of Asari space. Matrons were the ones viciously mauled by baby fever and were settling down, stabilizing, the time when humans would be looking forward to their own house and white picket fence extended out over a few centuries.

Maidens were batshit insane.

No offense to Liara, but normal people do not get stuck in a cage long enough for either depression or hallucinations to set in, barely scrape by several life-threatening events in rapid succession, learn that their mother's old friend is a racist asshole working with genocidal machines, and treat it like it's a mildly exciting Tuesday.

Most of the Asari seen mingling with other races were Maidens. Low Asari was not quite rude, but less cultured and heard a lot in melting pot areas. The Citadel, Ilum. Omega. Couple that with an unregistered ship, and it didn't look too good.

"Trying to do this all legal like, CC, but my ship's got failing life support and a Prothean database. What's it gonna be?"

Another short pause.

"Docking bay 4326 is open. Stay your course, we'll send out an escort."

"Thank you."

You heard the man, [Rebecca] sent to Aegis. Stay the course.

Affirmative.

She took the time to double check the repairs on her white suit and finish up on her helmet. The fighter had a limited fabrication unit on board for small repairs, extremely limited, but it was enough. The helmet was seeded out of samples of her self-repairing under suit and looked like a thin motorcycle helmet. There was a T-shaped visor on the face and more importantly, imbedded low lights.

She wrapped her hair up and squeezed the helmet on. Instantly, her breath seemed loud and warm. The lack of air flow would make it extremely uncomfortable for an organic, she noted. Good thing she wasn't one.

She turned up the light sensitivity of her vision and faced a reflective wall.

I look like a space criminal.

Her black under suit was subtly striped with the nanofibers, the packets of resources for repairs looked like armor panels running down the side of her legs, arms and chest. The helmet was just shy of menacing and wearing it was a blue eyed Asari.

The lights emitted the same wavelength eezo did, amplifying her blue tint.

She tapped open the communicator on the bottom right side by her jaw line. "Testing."

She slipped back into her seat feeling naked and exposed. She forced herself to ignore it. The escort ships were very Turian in design, hard angles and very utilitarian looking. They wiggled their wings and settled into their positions, one just behind her to make sure she didn't run, the other leading the way. The comm keyed a call and she let it through.

"Two seventy five Athame? What model's your ship?" The speaker was human, Mandarin Chinese. "I don't recognize it."

She spent fractions of a second searching through her language database for an appropriate Asari phrase, then rethought her first impression. The rest of her processing power was dedicated to beating down the irrational urge to hug the human over the radio. "Haven't a clue, it's Prothean."

The lead ship waggled back and forth. Her ship logged the scans he was taking. "Seriously?"

She laughed, harsh. "Would I lie to you?"

The approach was spent going over the extranet. BAaT had existed, was shut down. She didn't expect to find much on Cerberus, and she didn't, just vague mentions in the middle of conspiracy theorist rantings or completely unrelated topics. Eden Prime had been attacked by Geth. A lot of the details were hidden, the grubby fingers of politics written all over it but there were a few mentions of an Alliance marine.

Shephard's female? No, wait, Ashley!?

Ashley Williams had a glowing press release delivered by David Anderson shortly after the attack on Eden Prime. She hadn't been assigned to the Normandy. She was on leave. [Rebecca] checked the dates, checked the source.

This didn't bode well.

With a sinking stomach, she looked up Commander Shepard.

Male, war hero. Elysium was well documented and there were even video clips of Shepard's award ceremony. He was tall, dark haired and handsome and looked really uncomfortable shaking hands with Anderson and other officials. He looked just like her Shepard, just flesh and blood. He was also a Spectre-Candidate.

On a classified mission with Council Spectres Nihlus Kryikk and Saren Arterius.

Her processing threads split off.

One continued calculating, adjusting for new information and inputting brand new variables. It shored up her disguise as a generic Asari mercenary, edited the travel logs and sorted through information.

The other was a repeating series of five characters.

What.

Disabling fear/hysteria/anger subroutines.

She dove back into the extranet, this time no longer content to see familiar events or faces. She went searching for every little thing that was wrong. She got as far as the public record of multimillionaire philanthropist Jack Harper before just…stopping…for a few seconds.

I don't know this galaxy. I don't know the people. I don't know the events.

I know nothing.

She built a data mining program. It took her roughly .43794 seconds to establish the key words it would search for, everything from 'Aethyta' to 'Zaeed.' She built a database table of her memories from the games translated into text. That took longer. She reserved memory space, coded parsing programs for all recognized Citadel languages and then spent minutes carefully defining the behavior of a comparison command.

Tenet Number One, she thought, and inscribed it into her very code. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.

She cloaked the program with stealth and morphing algorithms, and let it loose.

"Prepare for docking, Athame."

She took control of the ship back from Aegis with the tiniest bit of haste. He hadn't graduated from 'crashes a military grade hardsuit could theoretically walk away from' yet and she wanted to get off on the right foot with the local organics.

She loved landing. Landing in a star port was easy. The guidance system did half the work for you and the rest was just hovering in place until the magnetic clamps attached.

The Citadel up close was like viewing a high fidelity screenshot. She called up a picture of the Normandy's approach from Mass Effect 3 and compared the two. The game didn't quite do it justice.

Everything was whiter, sleeker, more alive. Hundreds of thousands of shuttles, cars and small aircraft clogged the traffic lines. She could identify some of the leafy greens from the Prothean database, native species of Thessia. She cranked up the range of her vision and could see the people, the Asari, Batarian, Salarian, Turian, Hanar, Elcor, Humans. Talking, eating, laughing, loving.

Unaware.

Grief detected. Disable Y/N?

Oh. She thought.

The large circle in the midst loomed over them all and the central tower, the Council Chambers were backlit against the light of the young star in the Serpent Nebula.

It cast a very long shadow.

The star port was nothing special, a long tube with the clamps and extended bridge. She barely paid attention, instead taking the time to lay ground rules.

Aegis, maximum security. No one but me is allowed to do anything with this ship but open doors. Restrict access to you. Vigil, pretend you're brain dead. Veto.

"Yes?" Its voice was eager. "Is the ship to be designated a protected base?"

[Rebecca] sighed.

Do absolutely nothing. In fact? Shut down. She sent the audio file containing Veto's override code. Vigil, double check.

It Is Inert.

Good.

Two of the four clamps latched onto her ship leaving aborted magnets hanging in midair due to the fighter's small size. She gave one last look around the cockpit. The guns were attached to Vigil's suit via the neurolinks. Might count as contraband. Might not. If they wanted them, they'd have to cut through Prothean-grade protective sheath in order to get useless guns.

She'd cleaned up a little. Kind of.

More to erase the image of frantic retreat and haphazard spacing in order to replace it with 'purposeful slob.' There was order to it now. She snagged a small weapon, pistol, and her belt to place it on. After a bit of thought, she grabbed her prototype lightsaber as well. Helmet off, visor attached to skull, helmet back on. Check reflection.

There were more heavy clanks vibrating through the ship hull.

Opening airlock, Aegis transmitted.

Show time.

[Rebecca] walked out of the ship, observed the C-Sec observing her ship or her and realized that she had greatly underestimated Prothean data security. She supposed it only made sense. They were an aggressively expansionist empire. They faced AIs before. They had been fighting against the Reapers and all their toys for centuries. It had taken her half a day to hack into Ibdali Kashad's glorified diary.

She had assumed it took so long because she was terrible at being an AI.

It took her .000033 seconds to hack into Citadel Security's weapons.

Why did their guns have Wi-Fi? She had assumed the 'hacking' capability in the games were just that: hacking capability in the games. The ability to overheat an enemy's gun by typing into your omni-tool always struck her as a bit silly.

Turns out truth was dumber than fiction.

I am a robotic god. Hundreds of thousands, millions, hundreds of millions of open ports, connections and disconnections were blazing across the airwaves, broadcasted networks being joined and left, the pulsing of electronic traffic.

It was an adrenaline shot right in the confidence. [Rebecca] nearly strutted down the walkway – hacked camera feed said she was strutting – and brought up the pale green haptic interface. It floated as a large translucent rectangle in front of her which she manipulated with her hand for the benefit of all the raised eyebrows.

"The basics," she dismissed – ping omni-tool with ghost server request: what does an ID look like, received, intercepted, access wiped from memory – and sent her identification and proof of ownership. The pistol had a weapons license, some of the guns attached to Vigil did not, didn't want to seem too clean now.

Intercept verification request – what does that look like, oh, interesting, altered shadow copy gets the green light, erase original – and waited.

God, organics were slow.

"Been a while since your last visit, Miss Sareem?" Good old Canadian English accent. Cute, she supposed. Crew cut brown hair and lopsided grin.

[Rebecca] scoffed and glanced away from the human C-Sec officer, her fabricated file floating on the forefront of her memory. The obvious senior officers were hanging back blocking the exit, taking scans of the ship – intercept scan of her body, edit metal content, type, location, access wiped from memory –and talking to each other. They would be the harder sells. "Add a few decades to your mother's age, kid. A while."

He was double checking her ID. She knew he saw it when he grimaced. "Right."

The Turian senior officer, tall, gruff looking with orange face markings and scars scratched across his mandibles stepped up, omni-tool glowing. His voice was a 99.324% match for the Citadel Control guy. "You mentioned a Prothean database."

"It's under lock and key," [Rebecca] retorted lazily. She felt a bit guilty for the mild deception. She didn't just have the Prothean database. She was the Prothean database. "You can try your luck with the security, or we can start with what you can do for me."

He did that thing Turians in the games did, flex their mandibles without saying anything. "This isn't Omega."

"Too clean." She smiled. There were no corresponding emotion subroutines. "On the surface. Never hurts to be cautious, does it?"

"No, it does not." His Asari companion said in High Asari with a tight smile. It was the same evenly paced, slightly lilting accent Liara had. The Asari had the extra camera she was piggybacking to view herself and marginally better omni-tool security. Curious, she hacked it again. Oh, hello Shadow Broker agent. Cloak activity, data mine. "Miss Sareem? If you would come with me? I think we can come to a mutually beneficial arrangement."

[Rebecca] made a show of thinking it over.

Obvious trap. Of course, she wasn't supposed to already know it was a trap and it would be a trap sprung months later in the background, but it was definitely a trap. Likelihood of the Broker compromising his agent? Low. Genuine offer, it would be mutually beneficial, of that she had no doubt. He just planned to benefit more.

Should she be expecting Cerebrus?

She eyed the embarrassed human C-Sec officer. He was deliberately not looking at her.

Bueler?

Obligingly, [Rebecca] switched dialects. "I expect an expert will be on hand shortly to examine the data. I wish to speak to them first. That is my only requirement."

"Excellent. Tarina Ves," she held out her hand in introduction. [Rebecca] blazed through her Asari archives for greetings, and inclined her head while walking past her. Not to be rude, but to loudly proclaim that she was the one with the upper hand.

"Charmed."

Tarina dropped her hand and straightened her shoulders. "Right this way."

They got in the elevator. Tarina pressed the button, the doors closed and it began to descend. [Rebecca] nearly swore out loud. Saren wasn't rogue. Ashley got mind whammied by the beacon. The Illusive Man was pulling an Oprah Winfrey. The one thing, the one thing her memories of the game got completely right?

The elevator was exactly as slow as the ones in the game.

Down to very last millisecond.

The ride down to the main floor had been quiet. As they stepped out, the bustle of organics smacked [Rebecca] in the face. Close enough to touch. The ceiling was a high arch, resembling the Citadel from the third game more with multiple levels connected through grid walkways, flashing signs and slick, reflective material. It was a hub with four main passageways and a 'garage' of air cars and taxis on a balcony. A pair of Salarians saw them coming, and she could see the widening of their already large eyes before they shuffled out of the way.

How much time do I have? She wondered. Not enough.

[Rebecca] reached through her connections. The Vis were silent and still. She nudged R6 and its little camera eye shuttered open and showed her the legs and boots of people wandering around the ship. It had no noise sensors, so all she could do was angle the lens up more. The orange glow of omni-tools off C-Sec uniforms.

She breathed a mental sigh of relief.

R6, to me.

Tarina waved her omni-tool at the little stand Shepard used in the games to travel between Wards. One of the aircars turned on and lifted itself off the balcony to glide in front of them. The door opened. "We'll be heading for C-Sec," the Asari stated. "You are not under arrest or being charged, this is for your safety."

"My safety," [Rebecca] repeated.

"Your ship is attention getting and it will not be long before others are aware of what you have." Tarina had a completely placid expression on her face, and [Rebecca] mentally bumped up her age estimate of the woman. "Perfect security is a lie and the Citadel is as you have said, clean on the surface. Mercenaries, data thieves, agents of the Shadow Broker."

Clever.

[Rebecca] bowed her head and got in the car. The seats were hard but not completely uncomfortable, and the inside completely devoid of any features. Tarina got in after her. The door closed and the car drove itself into the weaving streams of atmospheric lanes.

Shortly into the ride, Tarina began to fiddle with her omni-tool and [Rebecca] took the opportunity to extract her mine under the cover of apps opening and closing. It came back with several terabytes of information, most of it worthless. If she was interested, Tarina's career in C-Sec was all there, laid out in memos, e-mails, case files and documents. She took note of the dates and times files were accessed and put any that were repeatedly viewed, altered or copied at a higher priority than the rest.

Personal files were included in the extraction and [Rebecca] felt a bit guilty combing over them for coded messages or innocuous orders. She compensated for the invasion of privacy by deleting everything with a 'negligible' suspicion level. That left a few short messages, bank transactions that were officially payments for services there was no evidence of Tarina doing, and a very recent email exchange:

C got p data 4 asylum offer, intercept?

The answer was short.

Details.

Tarina cleared her throat quietly, changing her omni-tool settings to obscure the screen with the glowing orange interface. The Asari was slightly taller than [Rebecca]'s platform, full figured like most of them were but the C-Sec navy blue and white uniform was not flattering. When Mass Effect was just a game, Asari were just one of those things she rolled her eyes at. Vastly different environment, but an evolutionary path that had them looking nigh identical to humans? Pfft, right.

She had to let it slide though. Alien space babes were a thing in space operas since her parents were kids.

Now it was decidedly not a game, and she was very grateful for their human-like appearance, but seriously.

How?

"I hope you do not mind if I ask you some questions," Tarina began. [Rebecca] made a small gesture, a fluttering of the fingertips that meant 'go on.' There a momentary seize of wondering if she got the context right. She'd learned Asari from dictionaries, and usage from movies. She was going to make a mistake at some point.

"Where did you last dock the Athame?"

Here we go, [Rebecca] thought.

"You have my file, do you not?"

Tarina smiled slightly. "Humor me."

[Rebecca] affected a put out sigh. "Nowhere. It was excavated, bought and renovated. I won't claim everything was strictly legal by Council standards, but I don't operate in Council space. The hull was kept, some computer systems, the spinal cannon is not functional."

"And the database," Tarina finished for her, making a note.

[Rebecca] just let her lips curl up as an answer.

"There was mentions of a failing life support?"

[Rebecca] said one word. "Geth."

Tarina froze for a moment. [Rebecca] could almost see her connecting the dots. Geth attacked Eden Prime, specifically they attacked the Prothean archaeological dig on Eden Prime after it had unearthed a beacon. Geth activity in the Terminus systems. The Athame docked nowhere, straight from its storage sight to the Citadel. Failing life support and easy to spot structural damage.

"I – I'm elevating the urgency level of this."

"So I was wondering," [Rebecca] drew out. "Where is your fleet?"

"The Citadel Defense fleet is securing the sector." Really? That was something of a relief, but considering how fucked they were in the games before the Alliance swooped in, she didn't have high hopes. "The majority is taking action at the Perseus Veil, the Geth won't - "

[Rebecca] cut her off there. "They are machines. They can make as many of themselves as resources allow. Annnnd the Council went to fight them in their territory." The air taxi braked with a low 'shwoooooom' sound. "Brilliant."

The door opened with they stopped and Tarina got out, frowning. [Rebecca] glanced around at the futuristic skyscraper that housed Citadel Security. It was an absolute monster of a building dominating the entire Ward and was tall enough to get wispy clouds forming around its peak. It had its own space port and tiered balconies housed hundreds of squad cars painted blue and white with flashers at the top.

Tarina Ves shut off her omni-tool. "Come with me."

[Rebecca] followed her through C-Sec headquarters. It was something like an office building, a Star Wars cantina and an 80's cop station all in one. Machines spewing coffee and other beverages into cups and mugs and jugs at a counter, neon lights contrasting darkly lit corners and lounge rooms, officers taking statements and perps in electronic cuffs, rows upon rows of cubicles.

A short elevator ride later and she was walking into a modest office room with a desk, pictures of Tarina with a Turian, and computer.

"Have a seat."

The door locked behind [Rebecca]. Red flags started appearing when Tarina keyed in a few things at the computer and the small camera in the corner of the room turned off. "I turned off the cameras," Tarina said as she settled in her chair. Her fingers flew over the keyboard. "I assumed you wanted to keep your cover identity intact." Those red flags became shrieking alarms. "The helmet?"

[Rebecca] stared for a moment. Shit. She reluctantly pried the helmet off. "What gave me away?"

Tarina didn't answer immediately, blinking in stunned surprise. "I – It was the lights you used, we're very sensitive to that wavelength band. But – " she paused, eyes still widened. "You're human. But you actually look- " Tarina waved her omni-tool and [Rebecca] reflexively edited the results.

"A little blue?"

"To be blunt, yes. It's faint, but noticeable." She hesitated. "I won't pry." The look she gave [Rebecca] then betrayed how much the Asari really, really wanted to pry. Well, [Rebecca] had her answer. She really needed tissue samples so she could grow human skin to replace the manufactured Asari skin cells. And blood, can't forget that she had purple blood. That would need to go too.

[Rebecca] thought back. "Is that why you held out your hand for me to shake? Were you trying to get me to give myself away?"

"You're very good," Tarina admitted, slipping into Low Asari. That pissed [Rebecca] off a little, that just because she was human, she wasn't 'good enough' for High Asari, no matter how well she spoke it.

[Rebecca] gestured sharply and deliberately kept using High Asari. "We were having a polite conversation. Do not ruin it."

Tarina's mouth opened, then closed with a thoughtful tilt of the head. "Very well. You had the mannerisms and subtle gestures. Your Asari is nearly perfect. Ilium accent, yes?" [Rebecca] nodded, feeling a bit of pride. Thank you, Blasto 3: Ilium Skyline. She still didn't know what the Hanar Spectre supposedly saw in the asshole Asari, but at least she had good grammar. "If it was just the light, even I would have second guessed myself. However, on the elevator it was clear. You are not a biotic."

Damn.

"And all Asari are biotics," [Rebecca] flopped into the offered chair. "You can sense that?"

She had the entire taxonomical details of Asari in her memory, but knowing where the nerve clusters were, the placement of major blood vessels or physical development didn't mean she knew everything.

"It is not widely advertised, because it scarcely matters. The default assumption is that everyone else is also biotic but it does not change things if they aren't." Tarina gave a little one armed shrug as she resumed typing. "It is like a small spark on the skin, easy to miss if you are not looking for its presence. Or absence."

[Rebecca] leaned her head back and hummed. All was not lost, she was just a human with a funny skin color. Let's keep it that way.

"You were attacked by Geth?" Tarina's voice cut into her thoughts.

"Oh, yes. A lot of them."

"How long ago was this?"

[Rebecca] checked her clock. And then brought up the yellow haptic interface so she could be seen checking its clock. This was going to get old quickly. "Roughly twelve hours ago. The facility was completely overrun."

Tarina worried her lip. "Location?"

[Rebecca] just gave her a flat look.

The Asari rolled her eyes. "Fine. Terminus."

"I hope," [Rebecca] began. She infused her voice with the worry, the anxiety and tension she would feel if those subroutines weren't disabled. "You have a plan for getting invaded by murderous machines."

Tarina stopped typing. "You think we are going to lose?"

"I think it is better to be safe, than sorry." It wasn't about losing. Whatever the Council was doing out there against the Geth, it was a distraction.

The C-Sec officer stared blankly at her monitor for some time. "That is not my call to make," she said eventually.

Oh for fuck's sake.

"Then who's is it?"

"Executor Pallin."

Oh, that's right. Him. [Rebecca] thought. The guy that drove Garrus up the wall with his extreme adherence to The Book and the cuddle level of a pissed porcupine. She redacted the face palm command. Nothing short of an imminent Geth invasion would get Venari Pallin to pull the alarm, and by then it would be too late. She chose this route because she didn't have a friendly Geth invasion she could pull out of her ass.

[Rebecca] paused and reconsidered. She reached out to R6.

She was an AI on the Citadel where everything from weapons to mass effect toothbrushes were on wireless networks. Hackable.

Was there anything she couldn't pull out of her ass?

Let's find out. One Geth invasion, coming up.