Chapitre 38: Interesting Times - Chapter 38
October 22nd, 2173
14:23 Local Time
Arcturus Station
Arcturus-System, Arcturus-Stream
Location: [Redacted]
AIS-Officer Oliva [Redacted], ID: AISO-028XX23X2
The conference room was a gathering of infinitely busy people. One always had to be aware of one's surroundings, or someone would run into you and knock you to the ground without any words of apology. Not because they were assholes, but because they didn't even have the time to utter a simple sorry.
Everyone was on edge. Thankfully, everyone here was a professional, or else it would only be a matter of time until someone snapped, or so Olivia thought as she looked over the data displayed on her datapad for the nth time.
She couldn't allow herself to miss even the tiniest detail. Somewhere in those reports could be a hidden hint. And if it was there, she had to find it.
Else, Director Clark would have her head. This matter was too important to leave even the slightest part to chance.
Suddenly, a quiet settled over the room. There was no more whispering between people or the clicking of keyboards. The only sounds one could hear were the ones of shoes hitting the floor.
Andrew Clark moved around the room like a predator. Every person he came close to could feel how a cold shudder went down their backs and looked relieved when he passed them without acknowledging their existence.
Olivia had always known that Director Clark was a dangerous man. Yet, that hadn't been something that could be discerned by looking at him. It had been more of a gut feeling than anything else since the director possessed a mask only the most experienced and observant agents could glimpse behind.
But today, it was like the director left the mask in his office and wore the danger it usually hid like a cloak.
The most discomforting thing was that while he oozed dangerousness and aggression like a leaky faucet, his face showed none of these emotions. Instead, it looked like stone.
Not a single twitch of his facial muscles betrayed the storm of emotions that brewed behind it, and Olivia couldn't help but shudder at this display of absolute self-control.
Director Clark unhurriedly took his seat at the top of the conference table, two guards, whom Olivia hadn't noticed until now, took their places to each side of him.
It was unnerving that she was so distracted by Director Clark's presence that she completely ignored the two openly armed people walking only a few steps behind him. Perhaps, unnerving was the wrong word for it, and the more she thought about it, the surer she was that scary was a more apt word to describe it.
Yet, what was the scary part? The fact that Director Clark's presence could hide two armed men? Or the fact that Director Clark had the ability to change his presence in such a way that at one time one couldn't look away from him while at other times, it was so minuscule that people easily overlooked him.
"I don't want a recap of the events that brought us here," started Director Clark, and even the last murmurs that persisted inside the room died down in a flash. "If any of you doesn't know them or forgot the details, then that person should leave the room now and hand in their resignation by tomorrow. This agency has no time for fools, especially in times of crisis."
Director Clark's cold eyes swept over the room and fixated on every person for a moment before moving on to the next.
When it was Olivia's turn, she could feel his cold gaze drilling through her eyes and into her soul, looking all over her, and finding her wanting.
She was glad when his eyes moved on, and took a slow breath after having forgotten how to while Director Clark's eyes were on hers.
Yet, somewhere deep inside her, there was a feeling of disappointment. At her herself. The way Director Clark seemingly dismissed her as nobody of importance. Olivia wanted to change that. She wanted to prove to the director, and herself, that she could do it.
What it was that she could do it, wasn't something she thought about.
The Director finished his look around the room, and since nobody made any moves to leave the room, he nodded to himself once and continued as if nothing happened.
"How goes the analysis of the possible shocks in the aftermath of the failed assassination of Oscar Denebren?"
On the other side of the room, a nondescriptive man in a black suit, brown hair, and eyes that looked liked they desperately needed sleep stood up with a tablet in hand and said: "We're still collecting more data to come up with a more detailed view but we have a preliminary assessment. Please be aware that should any piece of information of significance come in, the situation could change drastically in response to it."
There were nods all around the room and with a simple hand gesture Director Clark bid the man to continue.
"While Mr. Denebren is a big player in galactic economies, his impact on the political scene is minimal. At least, as of this moment. Most of the galaxy treats the assault like a juicy piece of news and doesn't concern themselves further with it. The places where Mr. Denebren has holdings, except the Citadel and Illium, are adopting a wait-and-see approach to the situation, and we can expect that nothing should change as long as Mr. Denebren has a speedy recovery."
"And the Citadel and Illium?" inquired the director.
"The business partners and employees of Mr. Denebren on the Citadel are somewhat in an uproar. They are incensed about the attack but are already calming down again. Ad Astra's reputation and stock market value took a hit with Citadel brokers, yet depending on the way Ad Astra will respond to the attack that won't be a problem for long."
"Do we have to intervene?" asked a woman with short blond hair, two seats down on Olivia's left.
"Not at this moment, no," responded the man.
If one had asked Olivia when she first got her current position as an operation coordinator in the AIS why Ad Astra's and its owner, Oscar Denebren, well-being, and reputation were a concern for the AIS, she would have answered that it shouldn't be.
After all, Ad Astra, large as it was, was just another company. True, it probably was the by far largest human company in the galaxy for now, and simultaneously the largest employer in the Alliance, yet that shouldn't make it a matter for the AIS.
Only after she started to organize and coordinate AIS operations across the galaxy, she fully understood how interwoven Ad Astra was with the Alliance military and the AIS.
Dozens upon dozens of fake companies to create new identities for agents were under the banner of Ad Astra.
Do you need to transport a hit team to another planet? Suddenly, there was an Ad Astra freighter that needed new mechanics.
And one shouldn't forget the quite staggering amount of money that Ad Astra funneled through its books to keep AIS operations running and its agents equipped with the newest technology.
She didn't even want to think about everything that kept Ad Astra connected with the military.
However, one thing was absolutely sure.
Should Ad Astra be destroyed, the Alliance's war machine would collapse in months, if not weeks.
It would perhaps take years to rebuild it and it wouldn't show the same rapid growth it did now for another decade after that.
Not many knew that, and Olivia knew those few that did would prefer to keep the knowledge hidden from the public.
Thankfully, plans were already in motion to reduce the dependence on Ad Astra, and, as far as she knew, Oscar Denebren was part of these plans.
Yet, at this moment, those plans weren't nearly enough advanced to let anything drastic happen to Ad Astra, lest the Alliance would suffer for it.
"Still," continued the man with his analysis, "while the Citadel situation is currently under control if anything happens, the mood could turn quickly, and it could become a second Illium."
"What's happening on Illium?" Oliva blurted out, and a few heads turned in her direction at her sudden question.
The man blinked, not having expected Oliva to interrupt him, but continued without missing another beat: "Illium had become a literal and metaphorical battlefield. Oscar Denebren made many enemies from all walks of life on Illium and they're now smelling blood in the water. Cooperate enemies try to tear up his Illium branch and assimilate its parts, while, at the same time, gangs are attacking his workers and holdings. It is too coordinately to be a simple coincidence, but we don't know who holds the strings in the background. Should the situation continue for much longer, Ad Astra will be forcefully evicted from Illium, and that will send shockwaves through the galaxy. I will defer the decision to the director, but it's my recommendation that we send in some teams to help control the situation."
Everybody looked toward the director who didn't seem concerned about all the sudden attention directed at him.
He only closed his eyes for a moment to think before opening them and saying: "I will take your recommendation under advisement. Please continue your report for now."
"Of course, sir."
Olivia could see how tense the man had suddenly become and wondered what he had to report that had him so nervous.
"The situation inside the Alliance is precarious," he said with a tone of finality. "Especially on the outer colonies. The attack on Oscar Denebren caused an outcry of anger and disbelief. Many are baying for blood. The fact that only members of the other species were part of the attack has become a rallying point for those with xenophobic tendencies and their viewpoint that the aliens attacked Mr. Denebren because they wanted to prevent him from continuing to advance humanity is gaining ground on all planets belonging to the Alliance. On some of the outer colonies attacks against aliens were perpetrated by the locals in retaliation for the assassination attempt. Nothing serious like that happened in any of the more developed colonies but the mood is shifting in that direction. It won't take long until we are going to hear about assaults from those colonies. The fact that there are individuals and groups fanning the flames of xenophobia to further their agendas doesn't help in the slightest."
"Is there any recommendation on what we should do?" asked someone from the other side of the room, but Olivia couldn't identify who exactly asked the question.
"The best would be if Mr. Denebren showed himself to the public and assured them that he is alright. If he drops some comments about cooperation with the other species too, everything should calm down in short order."
"That will have to wait for some days," interrupted Director Clark. "Mr. Denebren is currently unconscious and being treated for his concussion. His personal doctor assured me that he would be awake in the next two to three days. Another day of rest after that and he will be good to go. I will personally contact and ask him to give a short interview about the attack to calm the public."
Director Clark let his gaze wander through the room and said:" I trust you all will be able to keep the situation under control for a few days."
"Yes, sir," came from every person in the room, Olivia included.
"I will send some teams out to keep an eye on the situation in the bigger cities," threw in Maurice Vásquez, a fellow operation coordinator whom Olivia only just now noticed to be present in the room.
Many of the operation coordinators knew each other from either seeing each other during general meetings or when two operations were about to interfere with each other and the coordinators had to sort out the mess.
Oliva and Maurice didn't know each other well, having only met during general meetings about the current climate and situation of the galaxy.
Their usual operation areas didn't have a lot in common since Olivia directed operations outside the Alliance with a focus on the Batarian Hegemony while Maurice was one of the operations coordinators entrusted with the internal security of the Alliance and homegrown threats like Cerberus.
"Some of my contacts implied that some of those newly risen resentments against aliens are the work of Cerberus. Furthermore, there are clues that the attack against the Turian family on Amaterasu was instigated by a Cerberus agent or at least a sympathizer. I already sent a team to investigate and they should get back to me in a matter of hours. When I get their report, I'll forward it with my recommendation on how to proceed to the chief analyst."
"Good work," replied Director Clark simply with a short nod, but the comment brought a smile to Maurice's face as if he had been praised to the heavens and back.
"I expect the next five days will be a golden opportunity to infiltrate Cerberus and other likewise-minded groups. The current chaos and resentment are the perfect recruitment ground for them. Shouldn't be too hard to slip one or two people in unnoticed."
Olivia had to surpress a snort. Chaos like that made it easier and harder at the same time to slip agents in. It was true that those groups recruited more people during those times which made it easier for a mole to be placed inside an organization. Yet, those organizations -at least the halfway competent ones- also expected to get some moles during such periods, and kept those recruited away from sensitive information longer than if they had been recruited during "normal" times.
"Perfect timing," muttered the person to her right to his partner. "There's a new batch of trainees that need some infiltration training. Sending them through the Cerberus gauntlet should be good for them."
This time, Oliva couldn't hold back the slight smile that threatened to appear on her face.
The Cerberus gauntlet as it was called, was a training course that was only possible thanks to the relatively weird relationship the AIS had with Cerberus.
It all started when instead of incarcerating or killing caught Cerberus spies, Director Clark sent them back to Cerberus without any repercussions.
Cerberus's response was to send the AIS agents they caught back to the AIS unharmed and ever since Director Clark started the tradition to send in trainee agents to infiltrate the lower Cerberus ranks and test how long they could stay undercover until they were discovered.
Something along the same lines was true for those agents training in counterintelligence.
Every trainee chosen for the Cerberus gauntlet was told that this was a mission of utmost importance and that failure could mean their death. The trainees of course took those words to heart and went at it with the desired zeal while the higher-ups waited to see their faces after their almost certain failure in the beginning phases of infiltration and they got sent back with a "nice try."
Of course, this agreement only applied to the lower levels of secrecy and unimportant positions and information. The higher one climbed in Cerberus the more dangerous it was for the agent if they were discovered.
The same was true if a Cerberus agent got their hands on something important. If that happened then the experienced part of the Internal Security Division got involved and the Cerberus agent disappeared to be never seen again.
"How is the situation with our most violent neighbor?" asked Director Clark after the rest of the report about the internal situation of the Alliance finished, something that Olivia cursed herself for not listening more closely to.
But the moment Oliva heard the director talking about the most violent neighbor, her back straightened, and her focus was back to where it belonged. After all, the Batarians, the Alliance's most violent neighbor, were her operations area.
"Our latest reports indicated that the Batarians are preparing a pirate incursion of unpreceded numbers. It seems like they want to use the current unrest in the colonies to attack while we are distracted. The Batarian government is using the situation to get rid of more and more undesirables and strengthen its grip on its population. If they should proceed unhindered, it could become a disaster for the Alliance."
"Operations Coordinator Dove," called Director Clark, and Oliva looked to him after hearing her name. "I gave you the green light for Operation FERVOR two days ago. I know it hasn't been much time but how far along are you with the preparations?"
"It would only take a few more hours, sir," responded Oliva, and added after she noticed the surprised expression on the director's face -if one could call a raised eyebrow a surprised expression, but it was Director Clark, so Olivia took what she could-:" I made it a priority after the news of the attack came out. Distracting the Batarians had changed from an objective in the near future to one that had to happen immediately. The only thing left is to wait for the event. I already had that the guys in IT forge the fake data trail to our scapegoat."
"Wonderful, good work, OC Dove," praised Director Clark with a nod, and Oliva couldn't help the smug smile that she got when she was genuinely praised by the director of the AIS instead of getting an implied compliment. "I await your confirmation that everything went according to plan in the next 24 hours."
And with those few words, the responsibility and the accompanying pressure on Olivia's shoulders increased tenfold.
After telling everyone present that she finished her preparations, she downright boasted about it for AIS proportions, her head would certainly land on the chopping block if anything went wrong. And with delicate operations like FERVOR anything could happen that would lead to a mission failure.
An itch appeared on her neck, and Olivia had to stop herself from scratching it.
It was a tick of hers that always appeared when her nerves started to get the best of her.
"Director," she asked, and seeing him nod she continued: "May I be excused from the rest of the meeting? I want to make sure that the operation runs smoothly and that nothing changed from when I got the last update from our people on-site."
He gave her his okay with a quick hand gesture before moving on to the next topic on the agenda, and Olivia left the room as quickly as she could, ignoring what was going on around her.
She had left the room and walked down the hallway, turning a corner before leaning against the wall with her right arm on the level of her head.
A deep breath later, she hit the wall with her right fist and raised her head with a determined expression in her eyes.
She said that FERVOR would go according to plan and she would make sure it did. There would be no mistakes, the director and the AIS counted on her to run this operation smoothly and she would prove to them that their faith wasn't undeserved.
With purposeful steps, she walked toward her office. She had to make a call to the team on-site.
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22nd October, 2173
18:21
Erzsbat
Vular-System, Kite's Nest
City of Ak'kur
Agent [Classified], Codename: Heathen
He felt the wind caress his face like a lover's touch, and perhaps he could even enjoy it if it wasn't for the abhorrent smell that threatened to make him barf if he took too deep a breath.
Yet, he ignored it to the best of his ability.
There could be no distractions, there could be no failure.
His last talk with the Operations Coordinator a scant few hours ago made sure to impress that notion on him.
A sigh left Heathen's mouth before he lifted the sniper rifle back up to look through the scope.
The sight that greeted him was of a crowd of Batarians standing in front of a stage.
Heathen looked around a bit more until he found his target a bit left of the stage and aimed at the target's head, his finger on the trigger.
He put a bit of pressure on the trigger, but not enough to fire, before easing up and removing his index finger from it.
Now wasn't the moment to finish his hunt.
Heathen had been trained to see every mission like a hunt, just like every other member of Project Artemis.
During a hunt, one had to be patient, able to stalk their target unnoticed, find the best position to strike, and wait for the opportune moment. And all of that without bringing yourself into danger.
Of course, everyone who finished the Artemis training course got the best equipment available to perform to their maximum potential, but they were trained to do the same without any tools to help them.
It didn't help that the training itself was beyond challenging and at times downright impossible to accomplish, but every graduate could call themselves one of the best snipers in the whole Alliance.
Heathen had been originally part of the Alliance Navy but chose to change to the AIS after finishing the program. It seemed like the logical conclusion to him after he honed his current skillset to be razor-sharp.
It could also be because he liked the thrill of the hunt. Of course, he had joined the Alliance with the reason to protect it, the same reason as so many other people, but over time, he discovered he had a knack for sniping and started to like it.
It wasn't the act of killing that appealed to him, but the preparation, the needed skill to be successful, and the moment when he pulled the trigger and everything came together.
Whenever he started to hunt, he also began to live and breathe it. Even his current name, Heathen, was part of his hunt. His real name belonged to the person Heathen was outside the hunt, but during it, he was just whatever codename got assigned to him. He was a hunter right now, not a person.
A simple thought brought up the collection of video feeds from the various cameras he placed around the building, checking if anyone entered it since his last check and if his exfiltration route was still open.
There were some movements from the person next to him, but Heathen paid him no attention, checking the feeds was more important for the moment.
Satisfied with had he had seen, Heathen closed the feeds and sent a quick look next to him to examine his unwilling partner for this hunt.
The Batarian was still deep asleep but the slight movements indicated that the drugs were slowly losing their effect and that it wouldn't take long until the Batarian returned to the world of the living.
Not that Heathen expected the operation to take so long in the first place, so he just shrugged with his shoulder.
The faint sound of cheering reached Heathen's ears and he brought the scope back up to his eye.
His target had just entered the stage and started with his speech. It would take a few more minutes until the Priest of the Pillars got the crowd excited enough.
The AIS had chosen this particular priest as a target because he was a fervent proponent of the more considerate slave laws and a thorn in the upper class's collective arses by not conforming to the party line like so many other priests.
The Hegemony couldn't simply get rid of him because his flock, as the priest called them, on Erzsbat was large and loyal.
Normally, the AIS would just let him do as he did, but lately, his speeches had lost a lot of their usual fire, and information suggested he was getting involved with the sister of a relatively wealthy slave owner on the other side of the planet, and intended to court her.
So it had been decided, to use the last remaining flames of the priest's speeches to create a fire that would hopefully spill all over the Batarian territory.
After all, he was about to be assassinated by one of the Hegemony's agents on the orders of a slave owner. Or that would be the official story that all the evidence would support.
The Batarian to Heathen's side had been seen as he entered the building, and would be found after the act dead with a bullet in his head, put there by himself after finishing his job. Just like some of the most fanatical government agents were trained to do from birth when there was no escaping unnoticed. The armor the AIS acquired and Heathen took great care to dress the Batarian in pointed in that direction of thought too.
It wouldn't hold under intense scrutiny but would be enough to incite the crowds and drive them into a blind rage. And after the rage subsided it would be too late to stop the wave.
The crosshairs of the Kishock Harpoon Mk.II was trained on the priest's0 head as he got more and more into his performance.
Heathen's finger wandered to the trigger and got ready.
The priest lifted his antique copy of the Pillars of Strenght into the air, pointing with his other hand to it.
Heathen let the air in his lungs slowly escape and increased the pressure with his index finger until the trigger relented.
The stabilizers of his custom armor engaged and kept the recoil of the gun low.
The harpoon-like spike flew unerringly straight toward its target, and when it arrived, nothing much remained of the priest's head.
He laid the rifle on the floor next to the soon-to-be-dead Batarian and took a deep breath to break the remaining tension in his body.
"And now to my least favorite part," Heathen mumbled, looking at the Batarian on the floor, and ignoring the panicked cries from across the city.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone