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Milky Way Galaxy
Near Styx Theta Cluster
Aboard CSV Spirit

For a single person civilian spacecraft, the CSV Spirit sure did seem fast. "How's our heading?" Dr. Hayes asked the Spirit's resident VI, Yuri.

"Only a minor error in the trajectory, you are approximately .004 degrees off. No major error, shall I correct?" The VI, who looked more man than any VI Dr. Hayes had ever seen, responded aptly. While the VI was a bother with it's insistence on exact measures, Dr. Hayes was glad he had it around.

"Will it cause any problems?" He quickly queried the VI.

"20 seconds until arrival at the Styx Theta cluster's relay." The VI's automated timer continued to tick, "Nothing serious, at least, nothing that you would notice."

"Then we're fine, continue on this heading, how are the engines?" Dr. Hayes rolled his hands over the small computer controls, evaluating the systems.

"Temperature increasing at approximately 2% percent capacity per second. 15 seconds until arrival at the Styx Theta system relay. We will of course, have to vent some of the systems upon arrival in the system, however it will be nothing abnormal."

"Excellent, prepare for a total system evaluation upon slowing from FTL travel, I want to know exactly how the systems change this time, down to the microsecond." Dr. Hayes was certain that this time they would get positive results on the exit from FTL speed and it's effect on the systems. He was so close to discovering how the mass relays affected ships that he could taste it.

"Preparing system analysis, hitting relay in 3... 2..." With the VI's countdown Dr. Hayes pulled his belts a bit tighter. After the countdown stopped the ship came to an abrupt slow. The systems flashed and flickered a bit, then statistics and system analysis ran across Dr. Hayes' screen.

"Perfect! Excellent job Yuri!" He relaxed in the chair, maybe now he could simply relax and evaluate his data, FTL travel always made him nervous.

Kal'Ceska vas Shalvyyn, deputy chief of the migrant fleet of internal affairs, sat by himself in his darkly lit quarters. The room was tiny, just enough space for a bunk a desk and some drawers with enough floor space in between to take two steps in any given direction. Ceska sat hunched over the once bland generic desk which was now decorated and littered with pieces of metal scrap and small miniature circuit boards. The yellow glow from his omni-tool flickered across the technological debris, the shifting nature of the light dancing across them, almost breathing into them life.

Ceska sat in his environmental suit, having just been planet side, it was standard procedure to stay in your suit for twenty four hours after a visit to a planet, decontamination could never be one hindered percent effective. After the initial sprays and scans the quarians would make a practice of pumping a steady stream of invisible chemicals throughout the ship that would ideally kill off any trace amounts of bacteria. It was a practice that served them well, but Ceska was always antsy during such a period. Sometimes procedure was broken,, sometimes the decontaminates were not enough-- such was life for a quarian.

A small alarm started sounding from his omni-tool Ceska stuck in a finger to jam a feedback pathway and twisted it clockwise, re-routing the current to feed into his work differently.
On the table Ceska had a small electronic tech mine. He was working on it, trying to increase the blast radius by .012% it was a trivial amount, but his hands often grew idle, especially on these long 'nights' after being planet side.
The ship was always quieter than usual, not total quiet to be sure... But hushed enough that you could tell the crew was holding their breath at something that occurred regularly.

As Ceska continued his work he heard a small chiming sound from the holo communications screen built into the desk. Pausing a moment out of curiosity, Ceska brushed aside some of the debris from his earlier projects and accepted the call with a swift press of a button. Within moments the image of the smaller ships communications officer popped up. He too was in his suit, but by now he and his men knew each other by sight, suit or no.

"Deputy Chief, we have a call for you on a secure channel," The quarian reported dutifully. It was clear the officer hadn't been sleeping either, despite the lateness of the hour (kept steady by the ship's clock).

"Is that so?" Ceska quickly turned the possibilities in his mind over, "Send it to me here." He said, absently holding on to his trinket.
----

It was not long after that, that the small quarian security vessel had redirected course from their courtesy call, to the Citadel. Any reason for a quarian much less one working for the government to divert from their constant service of the fleet must be a good one.
Ceska transmitted a codded message to the migrant fleet security office just before the diversion.

Something much more important than security protocols had just come up.

Milky Way Galaxy
Widow Cluster
Citadel Station

A while after setting out, the quarian vessel dropped out of the mass relay transit system and began it's 'descent' towards the Citadel.
Kal'Ceska stood somewhat anxiously on the bridge of his small makeshift quarian vessel, his sparse crew not entirely excited to be going to the Citadel where quarians had been less than welcome for many years.

The ship's communications system pinged as Citadel Control made first contact with the incoming vessel. The quarian, a female named Tashka responded to the hail, just as the small vessel decreased it's speed for a docking approach.
"This is the quarian security vessel Mas'sara requesting permission to dock." She toned through a thick synthetic accent.

There was a palpable silence from the speakers, quickly followed by a professional toned response, "Security vessel Mas'sara, you are cleared for landing. . . Welcome to the Citadel."

Docking in the Citadel may have been commonplace for most, but it was momentous for the quarians. Ceska himself had only been there once, and few of his staff had spent any time here. The ship had to go through several scans and registration, the C-Sec officers claimed it had something to do with registration for first time visitors. Despite their assurances that it was all standard procedure, Ceska had his doubts, and brief glances through the environmental suits at his staff revealed they felt the same.
It was something quarians were able to do-- especially ones in governmental positions who spent much of their time away from the migrant fleet-- they learned to be able to communicate with facial and body languages even through their clouded masks. A glance from Ceska to another quarian could carry just as much emotion and expression as though they did not have helmets on. Although there was always an air of mystery.

With the protocols satisfied, the quarians were escorted into the C-Sec office (with nine opting to remain aboard the Mas'sara and three including Ceska continuing on) where they were put to filling out lengthy electronic forms and answering supposedly 'routine' questions. Upon confirmation from the Migrant Fleet of the identity of the ship and Ceska as deputy security chief, they were allowed access to the Citadel.

Ceska gathered back his belongings (that had been taken from him for security reasons) and prepared himself for his exploration of the Citadel. He had need to find a contact on the station. If the report he received on his ship was accurate this opportunity would be passing fast.

Milky Way Galaxy
Widow Cluster
Citadel Station

Kal'Ceska clicked his pistol back into place at his side; being quarian security and after informing the Customs officers that they were here to pursue and investigate criminals against the migrant fleet they were allowed to carry a limited amount of fire power. For self defense purposes, as long as the quarians understood they had no authority on this station, and it would be up to C-Sec to bring in the criminals.

However the details and diplomatic restrictions were of little consequence to Ceska, as the entire thing was one big facade. But the elusive and private nature of the Migrant Fleet would allow him to get away with several white lies. Quarians weren't known for sharing their secretes, so it shouldn't be of any surprise to Citadel Security, or any other vested authorities if they neither confirmed nor denied Ceska's cover story.

Ceska turned to his two staff members, who were also snapping their pistols into place. "Do we know where to start our search?" The male, Varassh asked his suit giving his voice a wash of white noise. Varassh was an older quarian, noted for his fighting ability. Ceska coulld admit without much shame that despite his age, Varassh could easily best Ceska in any martial engagement. The suit Varassh wore was thicker than most quarians. Partially for durability, and more so to accommodate his mass. Ceska knew little of his history, and rarely asked, Varassh had been security for many years now, and had yet to fail at his duty without reason.

Ceska's eyes flickered around the room they were in, C-Sec officers stood just in the larger room outside of the small customs office, and the ones inside were too far off to hear if Ceska were to speak softly.
However there were various things barring him from open conversation of their real mission. The first and foremost being that in all likelihood there were listening devices in the C-Sec offices-- at least there would have been if this were a quarian vessel.

Kal'Ceska nodded briefly and let his head drift downwards, whenever he thought, his head would tilt down to the ground, it was a mannerism he picked up, as though trying to conceal his thoughts form those he spoke with, it was however hardly noticeable, "The last time I was here I found much information at clubs. We should find one in the area. We'll ask around...Even if we don't find who we're looking for, that will get their attention. Just be careful what you say."

Varassha nodded in assent, and his attention turned to the other security staff member, a female named Sa'klee. She was busy taping on her omni-tool, accessing the Citadel's Extranet map. A small 2-d map appeared on her holographic omni-tool centered on the groups current location. "The nearest social clubs are 'Flux' and another called 'Chora's Den'. Judging from reviews I would say the latter is ... Much more seedy."

Sa'klee made up for her lack of combat ability with her quick calculations. Ceska, with little shame (once again) could admit that her mind for calculations and mathematics far outstretched his own.

"We will start at Flux." Ceska told them, as he began to move out of the customs office, "We want to make sure we attract the right kind of attention. A few quarians there should attract more notice than at a place already riddled with secrets. If however he get no results, we shall make a move for Chora's Den. Either way we'll attract some kind of attention. Let's go-- Sa'klee, directions." Ceska and his quarians left the customs office, the C-Sec hub was filled with aliens coming and going, he saw turians, humans, asari even a krogan or two. It was of little interest however, and his step was quick.

"It is not far, up one level to the Upper Wards and one more to the club-- ah! These stairs here Sir."

Ceska responded in time with Sa'klee's directions and the quarians descended the stairs into the lower wards, to then find their way to the Upper.
Ceska had considered using the rapid transit system... But that wasn't the point, the point was to get noticed.

Now that they had left ear shot of most (a few stragglers in the lower ward's halls did not bother Ceska much) Ceska began to explain exactly what it was that they were doing here.

"The message I received was from an old friend of mine, a turian I met a while back who's now in business on Noveria. He told me that the Shadow Broker -- an infamous entity particularly in Citadel space is interested in a man who is connected with the X57 incident."

"And by extension the Migrant Commander's daughter's death." Sa'klee supplied reflexively.

"Yes." Ceska assented, "However this man-- a scientist my contact informed me is in some danger." Ceska stopped talking momentarily and cast his eyes about the halls. There were people sure enough, but no one could hear them talk, unless they were going out of their way to do so. It put his nerves at ease.

"And?" Varassha prodded at Ceska's silence.

"And that is all we know. That is why we are here Varassha, to learn more. Nothing comes easy with the Shadow Broker."

They walked in silence for a while longer and then reached the stairs to the upper wards. The quarian group began to ascend the staircase and with their ascension came the buzzing of conversation. With the new found noise, Ceska felt much more at home.

Milky Way Galaxy
Widow Cluster
Citadel Station

The Wards were an interesting place. Technically the term "wards" referred to each of the massive arms that extended from the Presidium ring. Each ward was easily the size of a large city, and the "ground" level was open to the sky. There was a localized atmosphere, kept in place by mass effect fields and the station's A-grav field, but it only extended a few stories into the air. All of the buildings were completely enclosed save for a few landing docks and the bottom floors. There were of course, sub levels that extended almost to the armored exterior of the station. The quarians had docked on the arm that was close to the C-Sec academy, most likely at the behest of C-Sec officials who didn't quite trust them. It was understandable, underhanded but understandable. Quarians were not well liked outside of their own fleet. Mostly because they were a secretive, insular bunch. Not that Alia cared. Their business was their own. After all, they had the entire remaining population of a planet travelling in a fleet composed of ancient and deteriorating vessels. They had to be more concerned with their own safety than with anything else.

These quarians were different. Or at least they seemed to be. They were intent on making themselves known. They were walking directly through the crowds on the mid-levels. Everyone was at least slightly surprised or unhappy to see them. A few merchants double checked their stock, and a few bystanders double-checked their pockets. Alia waited for them to be a ways ahead before she left her place at the wall. She moved through the crowd quickly and quietly. Then again, with so much commotion it was relatively simple to stay quiet. Due to her training as an asari commando, and her years spent learning the martial arts, she was as lithe as a dancer, and could move between people with a certain fluid grace. Most asari soldiers knew how to move about that way. The rare asari assassins were even more adept at it. As it was, she had to gently nudge a few people out of her way.

When the quarians turned toward the lower wards, she followed them at an increasing distance. She was, however, careful to stay within earshot. When they began to talk she was trailing them. Of course, she wasn't making a scene about it. She was in a state of deep concentration. It was a meditative state in which she blocked out as much surrounding noise as she could and focused only on the quarian's words. Apparently the rumors were right. And there was a reason for their involvement. Once she had heard all she needed to, she sat at one of the many stands that littered the floors about the lower ward markets and contacted Executor Pallin. She would not engage in a conversation, only make her report.

"I've made contact with the targets. There are three of them, as your boys in customs have no doubt told you. They're interested in some scientist. Apparently this scientist has ties to the Terra Nova incident. They're looking for a Shadow Broker contact. I think they're headed to Flux. I'll keep trailing them."

With that, she cut the link and resumed her pursuit. She had to be careful in the Lower Wards. Not only were they sparsely populated at this time of day, many seedy characters resided down there. She would need to be alert if she wanted to stay within sight of the quarians. While finding them again wouldn't be too hard on the Citadel, it was an experience she would rather not go through. When they took the stairs to the Upper Wards, she couldn't help but feel a small amount of relief. The large crowds would give her some added security. Now all she had to do was stay on their tail. When she emerged from the top of the staircase, she glanced out the massive windows looking out onto the Ward arms. The Destiny Ascension and a number of smaller Citadel Fleet vessels could be seen outside on their many orbit patrols of the station. Cars whizzed by just beyond the balcony railing, and a number of people were simply admiring the view. A few C-Sec agents were on patrol here and there. Keeping teams walking the Wards was standard practice. Their weapons were holstered, and would stay that way unless they had a reason to draw them.

The quarians turned and made their way toward the entrance to Flux. She followed them within a group of people who appeared to be tourists. When they entered the club, she split from the group and proceeded through the door. The holographic banners along the walls gave all sorts of information about the current state of games and other gambling enterprises. Flux was, among other things, a casino. And a great deal of Credits exchanged hands on any given day within these walls. She wasn't a hardcore gambler herself, but she had dealt with people who were. It was a troubling sight. She moved over to the bar and leaned against it. Doran waved at her and waddled over behind the counter. He knew who she was, she was no stranger to Flux. They had pretty good booze. And she liked the atmosphere. It wasn't as trashy as Chora's Den.

"Hello Alia. What can I get for you?" The volus asked.

"The usual Doran. And thanks."

"You're welcome."

The volus went off to synthesize her drink, and she leaned against the counter, looking out the windows. She absent-mindedly scanned the crowd, an old cop habit. Her eyes landed on someone very interesting. The second human Spectre. Roland Whitfield. He was a famous man now, whether he wanted to be or not. After Shepard was killed, the Systems Alliance scrambled to get another human Spectre up for recommendation. Out of the suggested candidates, the Council had chosen Whitfield. From the vids, the man seemed like a decent enough sort. She had half a mind to introduce herself. He would no doubt be put onto this investigation once Pallin sent the information to the Council. Maybe she should just go up and say hello. If she asked Doran to watch the quarians she could take her mind off of them for a while. When the volus came back with her drink she leaned closer to the counter while she spoke.

"Thanks for the drink Doran. Do you think you could do a favor for me?"

"Sure. What do you want me to do?"

"Do you see those quarians over there?"

Doran scanned the crowd before spotting the suited aliens.

"Yes."

"Keep an eye on them for me. I want to know if they talk to anyone and who it is."

"Why do you want me to do this?"

"Because staring at quarians all day gets boring, and I want to go meet the new human spectre."

"Ah. Star-crossed by famous people?"

She gave Doran a sarcastic look and answered.

"Do I look like the romantic type to you?"

"Actually, you never have."

Volus were extremely hard to read. Their pressure suits meant that you couldn't see their face. Which meant you couldn't read the expression on their faces. She had been around enough of them to be able to make a good guess, but she was never certain. Alia supposed Doran smiled just before he nodded and walked off. She took her drink and walked over to the Captain's table. She looked down at him and smiled.

"Mind if I join you Spectre?"

Milky Way Galaxy
Widow Cluster
Citadel Station

Kal'Ceska felt the rush of energy and sound as they all entered Flux. It was something he welcomed with open arms. Life in the Migrant Fleet was a loud one, engines roared, metal creaked, gears rotated and mechanisms clashed. On top of that quarians themselves often had to speak loudly to be heard-- and festivities on the various ships, quarians grew up with the comfort of sound. While it may have seemed strange for the migrant fleet to have frequent festivities it was far from a falsity.

Quarian life was a constant struggle for supplies, for fuel, for food. Anything that could be consumed or was considered a "limited" resource was much more limited for the quarian fleet.
But it was for that reason in particular the quarians had to hold events, that's why quarians danced, and sung and played instruments, they may be in desperate times, but every quarian knew how important it was to keep the spirits raised, and morale high.

The constant beat of new aged dance music in Flux rejuvenated Ceska from the comparatively silent journey to the Citadel, and he felt like his head was clear.

Lights flashed mildly over the dance floor, adding hues and giving flavor to the eyes as the music beat went on. The club dancer's excitement and energy was only drained on slightly from the ringing sounds of gambling on the floor above.
To his left patrons gathered and mingled around the bar and tables, drinking casually and engaging in no doubt frivolous conversation.

Ceska moved himself forward, almost being drawn in by the beat of the music. "Spread out, fish for information-- But be subtle. We're trying to get the Broker's attention, not mark ourselves as buffoons."
The two security officers nodded their acceptance and spread, Sa'klee moving upstairs to the gambling machines, and the larger Varassh moving towards the tables overlooking the view.

It spoke volumes of their character, Sa'klee was attracted to anything mathematical, and Varassh appreciated the beauty in nature, and in space.

Ceska however had seen the galaxy many times and form many viewpoints, and he had little interest in gambling. Despite his warnings and his orders Ceska knew that the quarians were marked the second they walked into Flux by any agents the Shadow Broker may have.

He and his staff were trained to hunt and take down criminals on the fleet, so they were certainly more than capable of being subtle-- but this was a different game than internal affairs. Casting his visor shielded eyes about quickly Ceska searched over the numerous patrons who had stopped to look at the quarians, splitting the three of them up only made his job easier.
A simple curious bystander may follow one with their eyes, being curious about quarians in general they won't be trying to hide anything. It's not difficult to read honesty on a person's face.

Security for the club will probably keep an eye on them, but they have a supposedly valid reason. Along those lines it would not have been unusual for anyone to distance themselves from the quarians.

An agent for the Shadow Broker however would be a different story, that would be someone whose job it is to watch for unusual things, and curious people. If there was an agent of lesser intelligence they would be trying to keep a hidden tab on the quarians, and as the quarians split off, it would probably be the patron displaying the most annoyance, frustration or confusion, perhaps carry even a stressed look about them.

More importantly anyone who left in a hurry should be noted.

Ceska moved over to the bar and took a seat next to a human patron.

"Excuse me." he said, calling the bartender. A small volus turned attentively.

"How my I help you?" His manner seemed different than Ceska recalled volus acting. It wasn't his words, nor his facial expression--indeed he had none visible. But the haste to respond, and a certain shrug as he was turning. But Ceska hadn't seen a volus or rather he had not interacted with one in many years. It could simply be a peculiarity. Given that, Ceska decided to take note of that, and come back to it in the future. As things stood he had to watch for people watching him, and more easily, watch for people watching his people.

"Yes I was looking for information, the Citadel is new to me, and someone said you could help." Ceska lied.

The volus was silent for a brief moment, the implication of which was indiscernible. "That entirely depends. All local information on the Wards is common knowledge -- I'm afraid I would provide you with very little." The volus said simply, always sounding matter-of-fact.

"Are you certain you wouldn't be willing to hear me out? I can compensate you for your time." Ceska prodded without much will power, still trying to keep an eye for on lookers.

The volus paused again, and a few more orders were placed for drinks. A waitress called something to him that was lost on Ceska's ears. "I'm afraid I have to attend to the customers, perhaps another time quarian." With that the volus moved away further down the bar, to resume his duties.

"Very well." Ceska smiled inwardly, that was bold enough for anyone at the bar. If there were agents of the Shadow Broker, or indeed anyone willing to sell information (or anyone with information worth selling) would ideally come forth.

-----

A few yards away Varassh stood looking out the large window at the breath taking view. Feeling he had wasted enough of his time, Varassh turned to try and pick up information as ordered, but stopped midway. At a table sat a human military officer. He carried weaponry and was in the company of an asari.

It was not the asari however that captured his notice, indeed it was the human. He had seen his face before, it took Varassh a few moments to remember, but it wasn't long. The face had been in an Extranet report, a photograph of the man. Roland Whitfield was his name. He was the new spectre the replacement for the humans.

Varassh stood there in stunned silence for a moment, Varassh after all was a warrior, and had heard stories of Spectres accomplishing horrific, and stupendous things. It was a distanced respect. Then however, remembering his duty Varassh set to find Kal'Ceska, the deputy chief would no doubt be interested to hear that the second human spectre was sitting in Flux, enjoying some company.

Milky Way Galaxy
Widow Cluster
Citadel Station

"Well it seems you already know who I am."

The Captain nodded his head ever so slightly. He smiled softly for no apparent reason then to smile, and smiles were becoming hard to come by now-a-days. Several CSVs flew by, 'outside' of Flux, each one moving at an identical speed compared to the other behind or in front of it. They only really slowed down when they were going to stop.

It now seemed that not only every human in the galaxy, but every individual knew who he was and what he had become. Roland was, in fact, deemed the fastest "Nobody to Celebrity" on the Extranet by some news faction. The publicness of his ceremony seemed a tad bit much, but he could deal with it. Dealing with things was a part of being a soldier.

"You're more than meets the eye Ms. Dhaleena. You walk and talk too straight forward, even for most Matriarchs. My business is not business at all; I'm here for the peace."

The Captain paused for a second to finish off his glass of ice cold bourbon.

"What are you here for?"