15 Opportunity Strikes

--> Priority message from The Illusive Man. A Turian distress signal was intercepted by Cerberus. The message indicates encounter with a Collector vessel. The Turian ship was destroyed, but purportedly managed to disable the Collector ship. This is an unparalleled opportunity to case a Collector vessel for intel, most crucially on how to navigate the Omega 4 Relay.

The Normandy SR1 was torn apart by a Collector ship without even the chance to return fire. Turian military scientists could have developed secret technology capable of disabling a Collector Ship. Theoretically.

The Normandy is en route. We can get there, search the ship, and get out before Turian rescue arrives.

--> Situation confirmed. The rubble of a Turian frigate is drifting near an apparently lifeless Collector ship. The enemy vessel is adrift and devoid of energy signatures. The hull seems oddly undamaged. Could the Turians have used electronic warfare? I don’t know. Something smells fishy here.

There could still be Collectors alive inside the ship, if so they’ll be making repairs as fast as they can. I’m going in with only a small team, Garrus and Grunt. We’ll slip in, link EDI in to the Collectors’ computers, mine for data, get out, and blow the Collector ship to rubble.

--> “It’s a trap!” The distress signal was a fake. The Collectors had destroyed the Turian ship and forged the signal to lure us in. As soon as we linked EDI in to the Collector servers, a virus attempted to cripple the Normandy and the Collector ship began powering up. Swarms of Collectors and Husks closed in on the squad. Had it not been for EDI opening doors for us we would have never survived. Had she not been managing the Normandy’s software defence, we would have had no getaway option. We got out of there just in time, and the second Normandy very nearly suffered the fate of her predecessor.

Turian transmissions use redundant encryption. EDI detected their absence using the same Cerberus protocols The Illusive Man would have when his agents first found the signal. He knew it was a trap and sent us in blind.

I don’t mind walking into a trap to deliberately spring it under the enemy’s nose. I do object to being lied to. I did of course already know The Illusive Man couldn’t be trusted, but I didn’t expect him to deliberately and needlessly endanger a major investment. I am reminded of that old entertainment series Star Trek, when the supremely logical Starfleet officer makes the mistake of assuming his enemies are also logical. If The Illusive Man’s judgement is as compromised as his scruples, the future of Cerberus is not a rosy one.

The interior of the Collector Ship didn’t look like a ship at all; more akin to some form of dark and twisted hive. Pods for holding prisoners lined the ceilings and littered the floors. We found no surviving victims, only their discarded bodies thrown carelessly aside in heaps. Thank goodness that at least their suffering is over. There was room in that ship to hold every Human in the Terminus Systems. The capacity’s implied intent must not, will not, be fulfilled.

A fascinating and horrific discovery was made. The Collectors are not an original species. Segments of their DNA strand matches patterns found in the cryogenic chambers on Ilos; the Collectors are what’s left of the Protheans. The Reapers didn’t even have the decency to outright destroy them. Instead they kept the last Protheans in a twisted and warped form with no semblance of free will, empty husks with no purpose but to serve as the slaves of their own doom. This is the fate that awaits Humans and every other race in the Galaxy should the Reapers succeed again. A clean death and oblivion would be a preferable fate.

This Collector ship was the same one that destroyed the original Normandy. A man would have to be more than blind not to see a pattern here. Could it be purely revenge that motivates the Reaper’s slaves (if that word even has meaning for them) to target me specifically, or could there be more to it? The Illusive Man wanted me alive and free as a symbol. Perhaps the Reapers want to take me alive for much the same reasons, to turn me into a living symbol of their power by taking the one credited with Sovereign’s death and turning him into their slave for all the Galaxy to see. That is not going to happen.

The virus attack and narrow escape notwithstanding, EDI got the information we need. The Omega 4 Relay leads directly into the bull’s-eye centre of the Galaxy. The only possible explanation must be that a small safe zone is carved out in the midst of black holes and exploding suns therein, a pocket in space likely smaller than the standard drift range of most ships, which exit light-speed with a margin of several thousand kilometres. The Collector ships use a form of IFF signal to ensure the Relay places them within the safe zone. Bitter irony that we now know the tool we need was on the ship we just left.

Fortunately the Illusive Man has another bright idea. His scientists have been studying a top secret find hidden in the periphery of a brown dwarf, a derelict Reaper corpse. The team went silent a few months ago, and The Illusive Man hasn’t sent an investigation yet. Given the connection between the Collectors and the Reapers, it is almost certain that the Reaper will have the requisite IFF to navigate the Reaper-forged Relay.

The Illusive Man has made it quite clear he’s willing to endanger our operations by providing faulty information. If he knows anything more about the situation of this dead Reaper and the risks entailed in boarding it, he hasn’t seen fit to tell us. Boarding a Collector ship is one thing, a Reaper is quite another. Sovereign warped people’s will by its sheer presence. Within days, weeks at best, anyone in its vicinity lost themselves to Indoctrination. It is quite possible that The Illusive Man’s survey team suffered the same fate. If the scientists are still alive, it is in a state that precludes even the possibility of rescue. We have no idea who killed this Reaper, only that its death pre-dates the Protheans. If it’s stayed dead this long, hopefully it will stay dead a little bit longer.

The Reapers will come, sooner or later. When that happens, we need be ready for them. We need to improve our weapons and defences, we will need to unite all spacefaring species against the coming invasion. It won’t be easy. Authority figures are determined to disbelieve the Reapers even exist. If Anderson and I can’t find some way to persuade or circumvent the Citadel Council, the Galaxy will remain blind and fractured until it is too late.

One thing at a time. Anderson is doing what he can in official circles to counter the propaganda of safety. My job is to deal with the immediate threat of the Collectors. When we make our move through the Omega 4 Relay, there’s no telling what we’ll find. We’ll be one squad serving the purpose of an army. We have a good team, some of the best fighters in the Galaxy, but we could use more. We also need to make sure that everyone is at their best, no distractions or complications. We’ll need the best tech and upgrades Mordin can conjure up; standard issue weapons and armour won’t do. The Collectors can detect even the stealthy Normandy, and we can’t afford to be chased away like a scared and fangless rabbit again. We need to improve our ship’s armaments, and find some way to toughen up defences enough to survive open combat with a Collector ship. It’s a tall order, but we have no choice. I’ve put the question to the crew about how to best upgrade the Normandy. Garrus and Jacob say they have some ideas. When we put in to dock on Illlium, we can overhaul the Normandy and implement the designs Garrus and Jacob provide. The Illusive Man can take the bill.

I am told Liara is on Illium, working as an information broker. In direct contradiction of what The Illusive Man initially told me, she is hunting the Shadow Broker, not working for him. The Illusive Man seems to have no concern for even pretending to be trustworthy. He’s told me so many lies I’m starting to lose track. He told me the Alliance was ignoring the Collector threat. Ashley and the Horizon garrison were a direct contradiction of that. He told me the Collector ship was disabled. The question I ask myself is no longer “where is he lying” but “where is he telling the truth.”

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14 Distractions... and a Seed

--> Any good soldier knows that, before going to war, any matters at home must be squared away, all distractions dealt with. If unfinished business is left hanging, focus is compromised. When we finally launch through the Omega 4 Relay, we'll be in uncharted territory in the enemy's element without intel, without support, without backup; it will be a mission as dangerous and demanding as any of us have ever seen. There'll be no room for hesitation, no margin for error: every soldier will have to have a clear mind absolutely focused and clear of doubts or regrets. It won't be enough to have the best. They need to all be at their best.

--> Jacob has a missing Father. Ten years gone, and word of his missing ship surfaces. An anonymous message through the Cerberus Network about his father’s ship, the Hugo Gurnesback. Lost for ten years in the Alpha Draconis system, a distress signal suddenly appeared. Jacob doesn’t expect his father to be alive after all this time of radio silence, but he would like to find out just what the heck is going on.

Zaeed Massani wants to attack a refinery held by the Blue Suns. Something about revenge. As the refinery utilizes slave labour, it seems I also have cause to stop by.

A trip to Tuchanka is necessary for both Dr. Solus and Grunt, but for very different reasons. Mordin received word that one of his assistants in a secret STG op, re-establishing the waning Genophage, has been captured by Krogan clan Weryloc and taken to Tuchanka. I immediately agreed to help Mordin effect a rescue. Grunt, for unknown reasons, has begun to grow increasingly anxious and angry, saying he doesn’t know why, only that he wants to kill, rend and destroy, with his hands and teeth. This anger, he said, seemed foreign to him, a sickness rather than a response or choice. Krogan Medicine is not a popular study, and the Krogan are understandably defensive concerning such matters, and only rarely at best consent to divulging relevant information to the galactic public. If a cure to Grunt’s condition can be found, it will be on the Krogan homeworld.

Miranda has with verbalized regret asked for my help. She needs my assistance to oversee the safe relocation of her twin sister, whom she helped escape from their father. She tells me Mr. Lawson is a ruthless man of wealth and ambition set upon defining his legacy, and his daughters were merely tools to that end. Miranda’s sister, Oriana, is on Illium. The scheduled relocation occurs in a few days time. I’ve agreed to bring the Normandy into Illium in time for Miranda to ensure that everything runs smoothly.

Jack has completed her research. She’s found the location of the secret Cerberus base where she was raised, and wants to blow it up. It seems she was taken by Cerberus in her infancy and raised to become a super-biotic. The methods used were horrific. Other children were used as test subjects to ensure that Jack herself would not die from the treatments they inflicted on her. 

Cerberus is composed of isolated Cells, the commanding officer of each answering directly to the Illusive Man. It is a system that allows people like Jacob to believe that, because they personally are doing good things, Cerberus as a whole is good. It is uncertain if The Illusive Man knew the extent and nature of means that Cell was using toward their assigned end, but I suspect he didn’t care to look too closely, so long as they delivered their end product. But instead Jack broke out and tore the place apart. It now lies deserted and empty, an abandoned house of horror that Jack wants to thoroughly and finally obliterate. I can certainly sympathize, and have promised Jack a detour to that end before we make our move through the Omega 4 Relay.

--> The distress signal from the Hugo Gurnesback originated from the planet 2175 Aeia. When we investigated, we found Jacob’s father, Ronald Taylor, the only surviving officer of the ship, the rest of the remaining crew all cognitively compromised. They’d crash-landed on 2175 Aeia, a planet capable of sustaining human life, but providing only toxic food that resulted in significant neural decay. The decision was made to reserve food stores from the ship for the officers who were building the distress beacon, the rest of the crew would have to eat the indigenous plants and hope for treatment upon rescue; a calculated sacrifice of limited scope to ensure the eventual recovery of all concerned. 

 

But in the end, Ronald Taylor had slid into the role of supreme being on the planet through his maintained intelligence and control of the security drones, dominating the camp, turning out the other men, and living for ten years in a harem of the crew women. When after ten years food stores from the ship ran low, and he faced the threat of also surviving on the mind-decaying vegetation, he finally activated the distress beacon. 

 

He is now in Alliance custody with charges pending, his crew in rehabilitative treatment. Jacob has denounced his father and put the matter behind him. For a moment, when we met Ronald Taylor on the planet, I’d thought Jacob was going to kill him. I’m pleased to see he not only had the self possession to refrain without my intervention, but the strength to, once resolved, put the issue behind him.

The tip about the distress signal came from Miranda. She told Jacob that she’d been keeping a promise. It seems those two have more of a history together than I’d thought. Given their disparate characters, I’m not surprised it didn’t work out. Jacob is a true-blue honest and straight-forward chap, a regular brick whose greatest fault lies in trusting too easily, believing that because his own intentions are pure, Cerberus is too. With the likes of Jack and Grunt aboard, he’s far from the most powerful team member, but he and Garrus are the most trustworthy and dependable squadmates I have.

--> It turns out Zaeed founded the Blue Suns, him and his business partner Vido. Vido turned on him and tried to murder him. That was twenty years ago. Now that he’d finally caught up to Vido, Zaeed was so reckless and angry he deliberately set the whole bloody refinery ablaze when we moved in. Consequently we had to devote our immediate attention to saving the slaves from the fire. Zaeed seemed to think it my fault that Vido got away. After I explained to him the principle he had just so clearly demonstrated, the danger in putting personal emotions ahead of the mission, he ruefully consented to fall in line. Hopefully the demonstration of priorities has not been wasted on him.

--> Tuchanka is in the midst of political revolution, as in there is a movement for the clans to stop killing each other and work together. Wrex has been busy over the last two years. Not only did he rise to the position of Chief of clan Urdnot, he’s busy at work trying to establish regular diplomatic ties between the clans, foment alliances and cease constant infighting. I’d known since I first met him that Wrex was, despite possessing the typical ferocity and bloodthirst of his kind, more contemplative and thoughtful between battles than most Krogan, but I never would have expected him to possess the magnetism and will required to compel his warlike kin to put aside traditional animosity and unify in mutual interest of survival.

It seems nothing was strictly wrong with Grunt, he is merely hitting maturity, and was experiencing what was more or less the Krogan equivalent of teenage angst. Upon successfully weathering the Krogan Rite of Passage, a sequenced battle against beasts in an arena that culminated in surviving a Thresher Maw, Grunt was granted full citizenship in the clan, becoming Urdnot Grunt. When told to choose a Battlemaster to serve, Grunt surprised me by declaring me his Battlemaster. It seems that despite our initial cold terms, Grunt has grown fond of his “matchless” commander. I’m touched.

Now having found his place and purpose, Grunt has ceased fearing and resenting his rage, and instead embraced it for its purpose, making him a vicious Krogan warrior with Clan and allegiance. As he puts it, “our enemies are in trouble, Shepard.”

Having touched base with Wrex, calmed Grunt, and solidified respect in clan Urdnot, we can seek out Mordin’s assistant, Maelon.

--> Weyrlock hadn’t captured Maelon. He’d gone to them willingly, to undo his and his teacher’s work by curing the Genophage. He’d stolen the STG Genophage data, and was conducting experiments on living subjects; Human, Turian, Varren, even Krogan. Weyrlock Guld, the clan chief, was a racial supremacist megalomaniac with delusions of destiny, intent upon reviving the Krogan Rebellions and forming a Galaxy-spanning Krogan Empire, killing all Turians and Asari but keeping the Salarians as slaves and food.

Creating the Genophage was arguably the lesser of two evils. I’m glad that the decision to deploy it was never put to me. I can readily understand and sympathize with any Krogan wanting to cure the Genophage, but when the Krogan in possession of a potential cure also possess the intent to “spread across the Galaxy in a sea of blood,” I have no compunctions about shutting down their operation with lethal force.

When we fought our way through the base guards and confronted Maelon, he insisted he was doing the right thing, that the end justified any means to achieve it. Mordin declared his goals unacceptable and his means the same. Had I not intervened, he would have punctuated the sentence with a bullet. 

The research base has been gutted of all data, the servers inside wiped clean.  Weryloc Guld and his guards are dead, Maeolon has been sent packing, and his research is in Mordin’s custody in the Normandy’s lab.

I wonder how long he can keep his hands off it.
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13 Horizon

--> An emergency message from the Illusive Man. Horizon, one of our colonies in the Terminus Systems, just went silent. It might not be Collectors, but it could be. Whatever the cause, it can’t be good. As the colony lies outside Alliance space, the nearest response is days away, far too late to prevent imminent disaster. By good fortune the Normandy is relatively nearby, and can be there in a matter of hours. Still a dangerous delay, but hopefully not enough to render arrival pointless.

Mordin's countermeasure is now ready, in the eleventh hour as it were; efficacy is still strictly theoretical. Should his designs fail to deliver, this will be a short mission.

The team is arming up. Whatever we find happening on Horizon, we’ll be ready. If it is Collectors we’ll be facing, it’ll be the first time any of us have seen them in person. Courage and cool mind in the face of the alien will be just as crucial as combat ability. Time to show these monsters that the prey can bite.

--> Hostile presence on Horizon confirmed. We're going in.

--> It was Collectors. We arrived mid-session to interrupt their seizure of the colonists. We commandeered the colony’s defence towers, plugged EDI in to the system, and forced the Collector ship to withdraw. Special commendation to Dr. Solus in successfully veiling us from the Seeker Swarms. We saved the colony from complete capture, but half of the colonists were taken. This is the first time a Collector attack has ever been hampered, but the Human losses forbid me from claiming victory.

Ashley Williams was there. She had been assigned to command the Horizon defence garrison, and was one of the first to succumb to the debilitating Seeker Swarms. Whether by sheer chance or divine providence she was not among those taken. I don’t know what I would have done had that happened. So many were taken, and one alone dogs my mind. We still don’t know why the Collectors take their victims alive. Maybe it’s best not to know.

It didn’t go well between us. How could it have. As far as Ash knew, I had been dead for two years. Then I, or something wearing my face, shows up flanked by Cerberus personnel at the moment a Human colony is under attack. She told me Cerberus was in fact the Alliance’s prime suspect for the abductions. Far better had she continued to think me dead than see me working with terrorists. She would have been perfectly within her rights, and duty as an Alliance officer, to attempt arresting me. I took my team and departed as soon as possible.

When the Collector threat has been neutralized, I will return, and maybe, just maybe, I may explain, and set things right between us. Thank God she was spared.

Grunt should be pleased. The Collectors proved themselves a tough fight, and even he must have had his fill. They appear to be insect-like humanoids, strangely crude and rudimentary in form, yet ruthlessly efficient fighting machines. The team performed admirably, no one flinched or failed to perform their duty. Bullets and blue fire flew, and Collector infantry, caught in the course of their grisly task, fell in swarms. The Collector leader never personally set foot outside his vessel, but appears to have the ability to possess any one of his soldiers at will. Harbinger, as he calls himself, addressed me by name, though I confess I little heeded his taunts; I was too busy directing the squad and mowing down Collectors with gunfire. I must have killed Harbinger a dozen times over in the course of the battle, as he left control of each successive body for the next.

We met more than Collectors during the battle of Horizon: they had brought with them human Husks. Different from the Husks the Geth made, these seemed a less electrified variant. All readings and samples acquired are being examined by Mordin. If we learn nothing else, it now seems quite apparent that the Collectors are indeed connected somehow to the Reapers.

We won’t win against the Collectors by responding to their attacks. Next time the colony hit will likely be too far away to reach in time for even a partial victory. We need to hit them where they live. The only way to do that is to find some means of successfully navigating the Omega 4 Relay. The Illusive man tells me he is assigning all available resources to that end. In the meantime, I’ll continue building my team.

It was no coincidence the Collectors struck where they did. The Illusive Man admitted to having let slip rumours of my revival, along with the fact that Ashley Williams was stationed on Horizon. His theory that the Collectors are after me personally, and anyone connected to me, seems to be proven.

Fool that I was, I'd believed the Illusive Man though I'd thought myself on guard. He'd told me that the Alliance was paying no heed whatever to the abductions, and now I find Horizon manned by an Alliance garrison complete with advanced defence cannons, with the ranking officer instructed to investigate possible connections between Cerberus and the attacks. I'm not surprised the Illusive Man lied. I'm surprised I took his word for it. I'll not be making that mistake again.

I still cannot quite comprehend the fact that Ash was so nearly lost, so narrowly spared from the ruthless alien hands that would have snatched her away. I cannot bring myself to believe that any conscious Will would have chosen to spare one specifically when so many others of equal value in His eyes were taken.

This has to end. I'll see it done.

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12 Fighter, Mage, and Rogue

--> I’ve recruited three more individuals, each of whom is easily worth a full team by themselves. A genetically-synthesized “perfect” Krogan, Grunt, brutal and deadly. A biotic of extraordinary power, Jack, rumoured to be the mightiest Human biotic alive, and a master thief of unparalleled ability, Kasumi Goto.

The Krogan we had sought out was not Grunt. The scientist who fabricated him, the Warlord Okeer, was one of the only Krogan scientists worthy of note in the galaxy. Furthermore, as one of the few Krogan Warlords to survive the Krogan rebellions, he possessed a millennium of combat experience. But most interesting of all, Cerberus caught wind of him dealing with the Collectors, presumably trading something for technology to help him create a cure for the Genophage. Beyond that, we knew only that he was conducting research at a Blue Suns salvage yard.

But we’d been wrong in our assumptions. Okeer didn’t want to cure the Genopage, he instead sought to create the perfect Krogan, to “inflict upon the Genophage the greatest insult an enemy can suffer: to be ignored.” He had bought technology from the Collectors, and he had paid them in Krogan. He grew thousands of Krogan in vats, selling some to the Collectors, but handing most of them over to the resident Blue Suns commander, Jedor, for use as shock troopers. Okeer didn’t care a whit for the lives of thousands of his kind, no guilt at all for having handed them over to the Collectors, or that Jedor had been unable to control the Krogan given her, and so used them for her troops’ target practice. The only thing Okeer cared about, what he sacrificed his own life for, was his final masterpiece, a single, perfect, Krogan.

We left the research base with no new intel on the Collectors, only the tank holding the Krogan specimen that Okeer had sacrificed thousands of lives, including his own, for. Such wanton waste. This Krogan, Grunt, could be superhuman and not justify the thoroughly amoral means to his making.

When I awoke Grunt from his tank I gave him promise of worthy enemies, and thus have won his temporary loyalty. He will fight for us, for now. Out of all that waste, at least a little benefit will be gained. Let this brutal and battle-hungry great beast of a Krogan vent his potent rage against the Collectors. I take grim pleasure anticipating the carnage he will inflict upon them.

> Jack was being held in stasis aboard the independent prison ship Purgatory. Imagine my disgust to learn that Cerberus was buying her from the Purgatory’s captain, a Turian named Kuril. It seems this procedure of selling useful prisoners is (or I should say was) standard practice on the Purgatory. I agreed to collect Jack, but planned to make it quite clear to her that, once aboard the Normandy, she was free to go if she wished. I’m not about to become a slave trader. But compelling Jack’s compliance would have been impossible anyway. Had she proved intractable, nothing short of a lethal shot would have prevented her from killing us all.

There is no honour among thieves. Kuril betrayed us, and tried to take me and team prisoner. It seems someone had offered him a pretty price for me; I should be very interested to know whom.

When we commandeered the cell block controls for Jack’s level and pulled her out of stasis, she tore through three heavy mechs in her initial charge alone. We pursued her to the docking bay, finding a trail of chaos and mayhem in our way. It seems we accidentally opened all the cells, not just Jack’s. Inmates and guards were killing each other all over the place, both parties were trying to kill us, and anyone, prisoner or guard, who was unfortunate enough to be in Jack’s path didn’t live to tell about it.

From what we saw in that ship, the way the serial killers were abused by their keepers, I have a hard time feeling pity for any aboard the Purgatory. I heard reports of official government forces moved in afterward to restore order. There can’t have been much left for them.

When we caught up with Jack in the docking bay, she initially refused to even consider taking passage aboard a Cerberus vessel, then quickly changed her mind and agreed to join us in return for information, everything we had in our Cerberus files. It seems she and Cerberus have a history. I shall be most interested to hear what she finds.

Looking at the trail of wreckage Jack left behind her, I am prepared to say I have never seen more absolute and widespread destruction inflicted by any one individual. There are doubtless Asari, even Alliance, biotics possessed of more skill and finesse; but for sheer strength and raw destructive power, Jack is without match. When the time comes hit the Collectors with as much hell as possible, she will likely prove the most valuable asset we have.

> Kasumi is the best thief in the galaxy, not the most famous. She has no criminal record of any sort. Cerberus would never have found her had she not contacted them. She agreed to assist in the mission to stop the Collectors, but, in return, asked for help with a heist to recover her old partner’s memory implant. It seems he discovered something big, stole something too important, and paid with his life. But the information was locked away in a memory device, or greybox, as Kasumi called it, inaccessible to anyone but her. It was in possession of organized crime lord Donovan Hock.

Having seen Kasumi’s talents in action first hand, she didn’t need my help at all recovering that greybox. It is clear she brought me along more for the purpose of testing my abilities than anything else. As for her own capabilities, her hacking and decryption skills exceed anything I’ve ever seen before, except perhaps for Tali. Kasumi virtually waltzed through seemingly impregnable security without effort. And in combat, she exhibited stunning feats of athletic prowess, obviously utilizing significant physical enhancements.

The greybox contained both the dangerous information, supposedly something that could implicate the Alliance, even start a war, and memories of Kasumi and Keiji’s time together. Keiji’s memory urged Kasumi to destroy the greybox and all the data inside, otherwise she would become a target for those looking for it.

I would greatly like to know the specifics of the potentially volatile information, but as the danger lay in its revelation, not its continued concealment, and to spare Kasumi the temptation to spend the rest of her life reliving her and Keiji’s past, I urged her to do as he said. I am sorry for her loss, but dwelling upon shards will not restore the broken vase. She needs to come to terms with her lover’s death, and move on.

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11 Councilor Anderson

-->  That went better than I could have possibly hoped for. Not only did Anderson lend me an open ear and let me go afterward, he even insisted the Council officially reinstate my Spectre status. The other Councillors complied on the condition that I maintain a low profile and don't stir things up.

Apparently, Sovereign has officially been declared a Geth Dreadnought, and the Reapers dismissed as a myth. The Council has exerted all their influence to quell as thoroughly as possible the rumours of Sovereign being only the first of many, and are afraid I’ll raise hue and cry and upset their peaceful delusions of security. Fools. We thwarted the Reapers first attempt, but they will come eventually, and when they do, we need to be ready for them. Plugging our ears and singing a song of denial will not save us.

Anderson listened to every word I said with studious attention. I told him everything. How Cerberus revived me, of my meeting with The Illusive Man, my findings on Freedom’s Progress, my plans to assemble an independent team to fight the Collectors, my doubts about my own freedom of thought, the recreation of the Normandy and suspicions of security leaks in the Alliance, and my intention to report back to Admiral Hackett as soon as the Collector threat had been dealt with. Anderson never said he disbelieved me, but neither did he commit to anything, divulged no classified information. I asked after Ashley before I could stop myself, but he declined to tell me anything, only that she is alive and well.

I cannot read my old Captain’s thoughts, but I assume he is consciously and deliberately suspending judgement. He has no conclusive proof one way or another about my authenticity or wholeness of mind. He has apparently decided to watch and wait, to give me a chance to prove myself one way or the other. That’s all I can ask, and more than I could have hoped for.

I can, at least, remove one gnawing doubt from my extensive list of cares and worries. I insisted, before I left, that C-Sec have me examined for suspicious implants. Despite my fears, suggesting the examination, even submitting to restraints, triggered no failsafe. The results confirm that I do have extensive implants to facilitate and augment my recovery, but, so far as the doctors can tell, neither I nor Garrus (who underwent emergency surgery in the Normandy) have any implants that could control our thoughts or actions, nor anything resembling a kill-switch. The Normandy is still suspect, and circumstance still shackles us to this course, but our own minds are clear and free. And if Cerberus didn’t chain either Garrus or me, chances are Joker and Chakwas are also safe.

This weight being lifted means more than I can say. I now feel twice as strong, as though the whole galaxy couldn’t stop me. Nearly giddy with relief, I’m now off for to assemble an army. The Collectors won't know what hit them.

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10 Omega: The Thug, The Professor, and The Vigilante.

--> Talk about too good to be true. The promised ship, SR2, turns out be nothing less than a duplicate Normandy, essentially the same vessel with a few tweaks and Cerberus markings. How on Earth did Cerberus manage to replicate the most advanced warship in the Alliance fleet? The must have left moles behind when they cut ties, or reinfiltrated since. Either way, it certainly doesn’t speak well for Alliance security.

And that’s not all. I’ve now met the Ship’s pilot, none other than Joker. The silly fellow seems not the slightest bit worried about working with Cerberus. Even Dr. Chakwas is aboard, though she insists she is working for me, not Cerberus. Unlike Joker who joined because he was discharged and grounded after the destruction of the SR1, Chakwas deliberately quit and sought out position aboard the SR2 for the chance to aid me in the fight against the Collectors. I am of course, delighted to have them here, but as it stands, they run almost as good a chance as me of being compromised. I haven’t said anything about it to them yet. Not on board the new Normandy.

The ship is the same, but different. Beyond the replacement of Alliance markings with Cerberus logos, the whole ship feels like a flying lab, a sterile science experiment. I miss the old Normandy, my mind free from doubts, more than I can say.

Another surprising revelation is the presence of an AI aboard the Normandy. Enhanced Defence Intelligence, or EDI, as the crew call her, is an experimental advancement in cyberwarfare. Essentially a super hacking and counter-hacking asset, she can in theory shut down or overload the systems of nearby ships, and simultaneously run advanced defence against such attacks on the Normandy. It remains to be seen just how effective such innovative and green tactics turn out. Cerberus has not been entirely foolhardy in creation of such a powerful and dangerous AI. Despite possessing self-awareness and free will, EDI is checked by software shackles. She cannot commandeer the Normandy, nor can she vacate her hardware on deck three. She also cannot divulge Cerberus secrets. I’ve tested that last one.

We’re here to stop the Collectors. We’ll need a team; fighters and at least one scientist, to study the Collectors and develop countermeasures to protect us from the devastating swarms they open their attacks with. Looking over the dossiers, and some brief research of my own, I’ve decided to recruit Mordin Solus, a Salarian scientist and ex-STG operative. He holds a reputation for both scientific brilliance and combat aptitude. He is currently operating a charitable clinic on the asteroid Omega.

Also on Omega is a most promising-sounding individual, a Turian vigilante called Archangel. The man has single-handedly waged a war on the ruthless criminal elements that dominate the region for some time, ambushing their thugs and sabotaging their operations to remarkable effect. It seems he's done considerable damage to the disparate factions, enough that they have stopped killing their each other and are now working together to trap and kill him. One idealist successfully carrying out a solo-war against multiple heavily armed and organized criminal groups sounds like the kind of deadly and principled man I could use.

Another, far less likeable, character on Omega is a merc named Zaeed Massani. I would have passed him up, but Cerberus has apparently already paid him to join the mission. I don't like his reputation of bloodthirsty and indiscriminate killing. But he is supposed to be the most sought-after bounty-hunter in the Galaxy, and I need that kind of skill to fight Collectors. Moreover, if I’m going to be taking along decent and principled people, a selfless doctor and a fearless vigilante, into what may very well be a suicide mission, I might as well take a violent creep. Better his gun follow my orders than someone else’s.

--> I’ve spoken with the closest thing Omega has to a political head, an arrogant Asari crimelord named Aria T’Loak. She holds the balance of power against the other, smaller factions, and as far as crime bosses go, isn't all that bad. She provides about the only order and stability Omega has. But that doesn’t change the fact that she’s a pain in the proverbial neck. 

 

It seems Dr. Solus is combating a plague that appeared on the massive Omega station two weeks ago. Aria has that district locked down to prevent the disease from spreading. Archangel, she tells me, is in imminent danger. He’s trapped in his hideout with three major mercenary gangs laying siege; Blue Suns, Bloodpack, and Eclipse. They have him cornered, but are having trouble finishing the job. They’ve started hiring anyone with a gun as cannon fodder.

The professor can wait. It sounds like Archangel doesn’t have much time. Aria has washed her hands of the matter. Short-sighted purple-skinned jackass. Archangel omitted her from his attacks, recognizing her representing the only stability on the station I presume, and here she is content to sit on her behind while he gets pinned down and killed. Even from a purely self-serving point of view, one would expect her to realise that Archangel’s continued presence weakens her enemies. And should he be killed, having forced her enemies to unite against him, he has now created what would otherwise have been a most unlikely coalition that may turn and successfully defeat her.

I’ve already sent Massani back to the ship with a beating to think about; I’d found him in the process of stomping an unfortunate Batarian’s face in. When I intervened, the Batarian ran off before I could ascertain the extent of his injuries. A brute like Massani respects only brute strength. And by golly I’ll see to it he behaves himself under my command.

We’re going to infiltrate the Blue Sun’s recruiting list. Once we’re on sight, we can case the situation and determine how to extract Archangel.

--> I could leap and shout for joy. Garrus! That bloody great dear fool had nearly gotten himself killed. As it was, we barely got him out of there alive. It seems the name “Archangel” is what the locals started calling him when he began killing murderous thugs. He had acquired a team of various individuals who also wanted to fight back against the gangs; it seems they all died before we arrived.

In the ensuing fight we joined at Garrus’s hideout, the three gangs laying siege launched everything they had at us. Now most of them are dead, and Garrus is recovering from an explosion. Had his armour not held up, or Chakwas not worked her magic promptly, the rumours of his death now spreading through Omega would be accurate.

Garrus is back on his feet, but the side of his face will stand testament to that battle for the rest of his life. Even with the advantages of modern medigel and cybernetics, he should still be abed for at least a week after what he went through. But no, the stubborn fellow is up and about, poking around the forward battery, and assures me he’s ready for active duty whenever I need him. He never even considered not joining me, didn’t even ask what the mission was or why I was working with Cerberus. He shouldn’t trust me so easily. He doesn’t even have any proof that I am actually me.

I got a message from a woman on Omega, the wife of one of Garrus’s squad. She says Garrus blames himself for what happened to his men, and needs help seeing that it’s not his fault. No wonder Garrus can’t abide to be in bed with nothing to do, nothing to keep his thoughts from ceaselessly naming the men who died under his command. Far better to keep busy, reconfiguring the Normandy’s weapons, charging prematurely back out into danger, anything but inactivity. I’ve had men die under my command. I’ve even had to order their deaths. But to have seen your entire squad get wiped out, tormented by the knowledge that had you done something different they might still be alive...

Garrus isn’t the sort to throw in the towel, but his already reckless nature may have turned into a blatant disregard for his own life. I need him watching my back, but I think he needs me just as much.

--> We've helped Dr. Solus to cure the plague on Omega. He’d already formulated a cure, and only needed our aid to disperse it. Leaving his clinic in the hands of his assistant, the chipper Salarian professor was quite happy to embrace a new challenge. A chatterbox of a deductionist, Dr. Solus is instantly likeable. The sort of chap who provided medical treatment free of charge to the citizens of Omega, and single-handedly whupped the thugs who tried to extort protection money out of him. Cerberus isn't exactly a secret, nor are the Collectors, but Dr. Solus already knew nearly as much as we. He seems positively delighted with the prospect of pitting his scientific skill against the Collectors, and has buckled down with cheery industriousness to the task of developing a countermeasure to the Swarms from the data and samples we collected on Freedom’s Progress.

Funny thing about the Omega Plague. Cross-species viable, airborne propagating, near perfect mortality rate, it affects every species exposed to it: Asari, Salarian, Turian, Batarian, even Krogan. The only species immune were Vorcha and Humans. As Vorcha are already immune to diseases and too primitive to have concocted a biological weapon, everyone on the station assumes the Plague to have been created by Humans. But the Vorcha we fought in our dispersal of the cure bragged about the Collectors making the strong. Dr. Solus also said he suspects the Collectors were responsible for the Plague, that the Vorcha on Omega were tasked with dispersing it to test its effects. Why Humans would be exempt from contamination is still a mystery.

--> Having completed our business in the Sahbarik System, we are now en route to the Citadel. Councillor Anderson has asked that I explain myself and my new affiliation in person, if I am indeed alive as rumoured. This is a significant risk. Going to the Citadel, reporting to Councillor Anderson, is everything short of officially surrendering to the Alliance. It is highly likely Anderson may arrest me, but it’s a chance I have to take. He may not believe a word I say, but I owe it to him to explain my reappearance and actions.

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9 AWOL

--> I'm alive.

I’ve lost two years. By rights, I should have lost all of them. I died. Apparently. The Normandy was investigating the disappearance of three ships. We didn’t find the source. It found us. An unidentified cruiser ambushed the Normandy, ignoring our stealth systems as though they didn’t even exist. Devastating particle beam fire crippled the Normandy in seconds. With engines compromised, weapons disabled, and navigation destroyed, I gave the order to abandon ship.

I was the last on-board. An explosion, one of the last, sent me flying through the ruptured hull out into space. Seconds later, the enemy ship delivered the killing blow, and the Normandy was no more. That’s when I noticed my airline was ruptured. Things blur out shortly afterwards.

I dimly recall waking to a sterile-looking room, an alarm beeping, some anxious words, and a sedative being administered.

It could have been moments or months afterwards that I awoke for a second time. This time I was alone, but a voice over the com was telling me get up and arm myself from a nearby locker. I found the pistol before I properly found my feet: standard-issue Predator; high-calibre, decent RPM, good accuracy. Explosions rocked the place and gunfire could be heard.

Mechs came to kill me. I moved by drilled instinct, my gun hand dropping mechs while my hazed and aching head tried to sort out what was happening, what had happened. I prowled through deserted halls and rooms marked with a strange insignia, thoughts and questions shooting cross my dim consciousness like bullets from the gun I was firing. Where was I? Shouldn't I be dead? Whose facility was this? Had anyone else survived the attack on the Normandy? Who was attacking this facility? Who had attacked the Normandy? Was it affiliated with Batarians? Reapers? How many more ships had been ambushed? Had the strange vessel been caught? Was it an individual threat or one of many? How long had I been out? Where was everyone?

Finally I found another Human, also exchanging fire with the mechs. Enemies in the immediate vicinity disposed of, he identified himself as Jacob Taylor, head of security. He said he knew no more than I about why the security mechs had gone rogue, only that it had to be an inside job.

He told me I’d been more or less, but progressively less, dead for two years. Apparently, I’d just been awakened prematurely. The voice of warning I’d heard over the radio had been Miranda Lawson, senior officer of the station and chief overseer of my revival, Project Lazarus.

The crew of the Normandy had not escaped without casualties. Navigator Pressly and twenty-odd servicemen had died; the rest of the crew, including the combat team, had been recovered by the Alliance. I had been declared killed in action. Jacob hesitated to tell me who he was working for, who had recovered and revived my lifeless body. Project Lazurus, he said, used cutting edge technology and incredible resources to secretly bring me back to life. When he eventually told me that the party responsible was Cerberus, I was not pleased.

Jacob Taylor seems a trustworthy man despite his affiliations. He put himself in jeopardy with both me and his superiors by telling me who he worked for. I’ll reserve judgement of this individual; he may well believe his association worthy, but I have no such delusions about Cerberus. Cerberus had been a top secret Alliance black ops organization. They went rogue during my mission to stop Saren. When the Reaper had been dealt with and invasion averted, I’d turned my attention to Cerberus. They’d been conducting illegal biological research, lured marines into death traps, murdered an Alliance Admiral, and set themselves up as a militant shadow organization of highly suspect motives.

Jacob has promised to take me to his boss, The Illusive Man. That should prove to be a most interesting interview.

Jacob and I found only two other survivors on our way to the shuttles. The first was the station’s chief medical specialist, Wilson. The second was Miranda, waiting at the shuttlebay. She shot Wilson on sight, telling me and an alarmed Jacob that Wilson had been responsible for the attack. It would explain certain oddities in Wilson’s behaviour. Nevertheless, Miranda’s snap judgement call with immediate lethal force upon an erstwhile friend in no way makes me feel safe around her. And not a hint of regret. Jacob asked her “What if you’re wrong, Miranda?” To which she replied “I’m never wrong.” I have little doubt, should Miranda deem it necessary, she’ll put a bullet in the back of my head. If I had any inclinations to let my guard down around Jacob, Miranda will keep me alert.

--> So I’ve met the Head of Cerberus. Only one of him. The Illusive Man was too canny to meet me in person, instead communicating face-to-face via hologram. Smart man. Otherwise, I may have been inclined to lay hands upon his person.

The Illusive Man tells me that Humanity is under attack. The disappearance of the three ships, the attack on the Normandy, was just the beginning. Human colonies in the Terminus Systems have been disappearing, the citizens gone without a trace. The official explanation is that the disappearances are the work of slavers and pirates. Apparently the Alliance is devoting its attention to expanding its influence and control in Citadel Space, now that they have a seat on the Council, and have little time to spare for sporadic disappearances. But tens of thousands of Human colonists vanished without a trace should warrant more action.

I asked the Illusive Man why he spent the price of an army to resurrect one soldier. He says it's because of what I represent, defiance of the Reapers. Apparently he deems it absolutely essential that the symbol of Sovereign’s defeat be seen alive and active.

I’ve agreed to investigate the most recent colony to suffer abduction, Freedom’s Progress. When I’ve conducted my search we will speak again.

A fine fix this is. I’ve been gone two years. Officially, I’m dead. And I’m now connected to Cerberus, essentially a terrorist network. If I immediately report back to my superiors, as is my duty, then best case scenario I’ll be a free man again in another two years. I don’t have time for that. If there’s a threat to Human colonies, especially if there’s suspicion the Reapers are somehow connected, I have to move fast. If the Alliance is too caught up in politics to ensure the safety of frontier worlds, I have no choice but to intervene as best I can before I submit myself to all but guaranteed arrest and delay. For all of its principles and virtues, the Alliance is still a massive bureaucracy, with all the inertia that entails. If they aren’t moving now, by the time they finally get their momentum underway, it may well be too late.

--> We scoured the colony. I’ve seen deserted habitations and locals before, but this was different. There were no signs of evacuation, no indications of violent withdrawal, every empty house looking as though the inhabitants had simply vanished, dropping everything at once and leaving without a trace.

Ghost town indeed. Every empty house, every deserted street, seemed to silently scream of terror. What in Creation could have happened here, I asked myself. No damage to be found anywhere; no blast holes, no bullet marks, not even traces of chemical weapons. This colony didn’t have a proper garrison, but the civilians had been armed. There should have been signs of a fight.

Finally we found someone. But not colonists. Quarians. Tali'Zorah with a team looking for one of their pilgrims, still here somewhere. Working together we found him, hidden and trembling. Veetor was nearly hysterical, jabbering and muttering. Something had clearly frightened him out of his wits. It’s unclear why he alone had been left behind. Perhaps, immediately making himself scarce, his environmental suit had masked his location from scanners. Or maybe the attackers had only been interested in finding and taking Humans, either not scanning for or simply ignoring an out-of-the-way hidden Quarian.

We did get some information out of him. He kept talking about Swarms, bugs that flooded the colony and froze everyone. Then Monsters. He kept jabbering about the Monsters, how they took the colonists away, of how they would be back for him.

However incoherent and frantic he may have been, Veetor had had the blessed presence of mind to scan and record the “Monsters.” The footage was blurry, but the readings confirm that the “Monsters,” human-sized bipeds, are what Jacob and Miranda call “Collectors.”

Apparently Collectors are a race of aliens possessing advanced technology, appearing on the galactic stage only recently, while I was under. They have no official public relations, and appear so infrequently and in distant locations that most people don't believe they exist. Their standard MO is to collect specimens with mutations or genetic anomalies from slavers, paying exorbitant sums for seemingly useless captives, then they vanish whence they came, through the Omega 4 Relay.

The Omega 4 is a Primary Relay of unknown destination. No one has ever mapped its mate because no one other than Collectors has ever passed through it and returned. This suggest the Collectors possess unique knowledge of Relays, or at least this one in particular.

Of significant interest is the Collectors abrupt change of procedure; there is a great deal of difference between select purchasing of dozens of unfortunate souls from slavers, and whole-sale abduction of colonists by the tens of thousands. And only Human colonies. Their previous acquisitions were of all races, but only those individuals with abnormalities. Now it seems any Human will suit their needs, as many as possible, and all other races are forgotten. Why?

Either The Illusive Man is a very bad liar, or he simply doesn’t care to be cautious at this time. He says the data from Veetor “confirms” the Collectors are responsible for the disappearances. He had told me before that we knew nothing. Why do I get the feeling Cerberus may have conducted business with them? If so, it seems the deal went sour. Is the Collectors new focus on exclusively targeting Humans a consequence of the estrangement, or the cause?

The Illusive Man also keeps hinting that the Collectors are working with the Reapers, but won’t say why, only that “the patterns are there, buried in the data.” He cites the Collectors apparent familiarity with Relays, and their possible motive in targeting humans as being revenge for the death of Sovereign. Possible, but that doesn’t explain why they capture the Humans instead of simply destroying them.

I've made my decision. With an immediate emergency before me with the lives of tens of thousands at stake, I have little choice.  I am now doing what I would, and do, call myself mad to even consider. But I have no better option. I’ve agreed to work with Cerberus to stop the Collector threat. The Illusive Man has promised me a ship, and, to my surprise, has offered me a list of dossiers; soldiers, mercs, spies, and scientists for consideration and recruitment. I’d expected he’d insist upon providing me with a detachment of Cerberus soldiers, not offer me a head start on assembling an independent combat team. It seems he wants me out in the field with as much freedom as possible, more than he wants me under his command.

Of course, Jacob and Miranda, along with the crew of the ship, will all be Cerberus officers, and the ship itself will be sure to have failsafes to ensure control, if necessary. Given the circumstances, I’d expect to have something of the same sort installed in me. I’ve just had enough long-term surgical implants put in place, it would be the easiest thing in the world to put a control chip in my brain. I might very well think there probably was one, were it not for the fact that Miranda herself was complaining that The Illusive Man had forbidden her to do just that. She said he was afraid it might alter my personality, shed doubt upon my genuine identity, that me being known to be truly alive and not just an imposter superseded all other considerations. Moreover, I have carefully examined recent events, and every action and decision I’ve made holds up to logical consideration; thus far, I cannot detect in myself any slides of judgement in The Illusive Man’s favour, even my decision to work with Cerberus holds water, however bitter. I have of course, at this time, no conclusive evidence either way about the presence or absence of a control implant of some sort. It could be a simple failsafe primed only to activate in emergency, in which case I’ll have no evidence of its existence until such time as the emergency occurs. 
 

I need allies, people I can trust not affiliated with Cerberus to protect me from myself should the worst occur. This prompts the question of why The Illusive Man would encourage me to find just such people. Then again, he could be confident enough in his own provisions, he feels safe in granting me an illusion of autonomy and safety. 

Damned mess.

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