Slaves of Cerberus

After making their way up the stairs, Dugas ushered Zaeed and Rooker through a heavy pair of wooden doors. "Right in here," he said jovially, leading them into a high-ceilinged office. Zaeed had to hold back a laugh as he saw the place: while it matched the décor of the rest of Dugas' mansion, the thought of the crusty old krogan merc doing business in such lush surroundings seemed completely insane.

"Sit down over there, please," Dugas said, gesturing to a velvet-upholstered couch opposite his heavy mahogany desk. "Shouldn't take but a few minutes to get the ship together for you." Pointing to one of the two batarian guards who had followed them into the office, Dugas barked orders. "Fetch some more drinks for my guests here while they wait. From my private bar."

"Nah, that's alright, mate," Zaeed said, as he and Rooker took seats. "You doing me this big favor and all... think I've taken up more than enough of your hospitality."

Dugas waved one of his hands at Zaeed. "Nonsense. You haven't seen the half of my... hospitality," he declared. The batarian bodyguard poured out two drinks from an ornate crystal bottle, and Dugas turned his back on his guests to retrieve the glasses. After a pause, he spun back around with the full glasses, handing one each to Zaaed and Rooker. "There... for you and your lovely lady friend. Drink up."

"Much appreciated," Zaeed responded, taking the glass and raising it to his lips. Rooker gave a smile to the krogan as well, sipping lightly at her own drink.

"There we are," Dugas said, a wide grin coming to his face as he watched the two humans drink. Settling himself down into his heavy, high-backed desk chair, Dugas reached forward to activate his terminal. "Now, what was it you were saying?" he asked, staring at the terminal screen intently while tapping away on his keyboard. "A ship with a record as a non-human vessel, was it?"

Zaeed nodded. "That's rig... whoah..." Shifting slightly in his seat, Zaeed reached up to rest a hand on his forehead.

Dugas looked up from his terminal. "Everything alright... old friend?"

"Yeah, just... guess I really have had a bit too much of your hospitality... and your booze," Zaeed responded, placing his glass aside and turning to chuckle to Rooker. "Might need you to... to fly the car on our way back, babe."

Rooker forced a smile in response, all while impatiently tapping her foot. They were so close to finishing this mission... but something seemed off to her. Something about the friendliness that Dugas was showing to them now, after his earlier outburst at the mere thought of them working with Cerberus, had Rooker on edge in a way that didn't seem logical, but was undeniable nonetheless.

"Ah, here we are," Dugas said, pointing a finger at his terminal screen. "Think that's just the one you need. Just a moment, let me call in one of my men to fetch you the access codes." Reaching over to a panel on his desk, Dugas pressed one of the buttons. "There we go. Should only take a minute."

* * *

"What the...?" Jacob exclaimed.

"What, what's happening?" Vega said, concern written on his face as he stood up and turned to Jacob.

Jacob hit several buttons on the receiver. "Signal went dead all of a sudden. Dammit, all I'm getting is static."

"Something went wrong," Vega immediately concluded. "We need to move in."

"No, wait," Jacob said. "Could just be a technical glitch. And from what I was hearing before we lost signal, Zaeed and Rooker were close to getting a ship out of Dugas. We need to wait."

Vega looked uncertain, but he eventually settled back down in his seat.

* * *

"Your man gonna... gonna... gonna be much longer, Dugas?" Zaeed asked, blinking his eyes to try and focus on the krogan on the other side of the desk. Once he managed that, then hopefully he could stop the room from spinning around him so goddamn much. Funny, he wasn't normally this much of a lightweight when it came to alcohol. He supposed his ability to hold his liquor was going with age, just like most of his other skills.

"Not much longer," Dugas assured him. A gleam came to his eyes, as if something had just occurred to him. "Oh, while we wait... I want you to hear this. Got the strangest extranet call a few days ago, out of nowhere. Thought it was crazy at the time, but... well, just listen."

As Zaeed and Rooker glanced at each other in confusion, Dugas hit another button on his desk panel. From out of a speaker on the wall came Dugas' voice in a recording: Who the hell is this? How did you get this number?

Who I am is unimportant, Brenok Dugas, said another voice in response. It was obviously electronically distorted, and Zaeed couldn't even tell if it was human or alien, male or female. What is important is what I can provide for you.

Oh, and what is that? Better be good, or else I'm going to trace this call back to its source, and you had better not be there when my men arrive.

Even through the distortion, Zaeed could hear the amusement in the voice on the other end of the call. You could try, but I promise that your trace would not succeed. Back to the point: what I can provide to you are two things. The two most valuable things, especially to someone in your line of work: credits, and information.

Yeah, well, I've got plenty of both. So this better be a damn good offer.

Do me a favor. Check your Illium Galactic banking account statement, if you would. I think you'll be pleased with what you find.

There was a pause in the call at that point, and Zaeed started to open his mouth to ask what the point of all this was. "Just a minute, Zaeed," Dugas interrupted him before he could speak. "The good part's coming up. You're going to love this."

Hmm... 150 million credits. Not bad, but my people make me that much in two months. Still, you have my attention.

I'm glad to hear it, Brenok Dugas. Because there are even more credits in it for you if you listen to the other gift I have for you.

Right, the information. And what information do you have, that's so important that you're forking over 150 million just so I listen to it?

Listen to my next words carefully. We have reason to believe that you have been targeted. Someone is out to pin a frame-up on you.

Really? Wonder who that could be? I have pissed off a lot of people over the years.

My sources suspect that this comes from very high up. Potentially someone in the command structure of the Alliance, as a matter of fact. The sources also tell me that, within the next few days, you will be receiving a visitor. Someone you haven't seen in ages, who will come to you under the banner of friendship. I'm not sure what their exact identity will be. All I know is that this person is not your friend. They are, in fact, working for your enemies.

Rooker sat up straight in her seat. Zaeed, too, looked perturbed, but before either of them could speak Dugas held up a hand. "Quiet now," he muttered, the former friendliness starting to drain from his voice as he reached into a drawer of his desk, and slammed a Carnifex pistol down on its dark wooden surface. "If you don't shut up, you'll talk right over the best part."

You seem to know a lot, mystery man. But I tend to take a lot of visitors at my home. How will I know who this unknown traitor is?

I'll tell you how. See, in order to frame you for this crime, they're going to need something from you. Something very specific.

And the next words that came out of the speaker told Zaeed and Rooker, without a doubt, that they were screwed.

This person... whoever they are, they're going to ask you for a ship. And not just any ship: a ship with a history as a non-human vessel. Once they make that request, you'll have your Alliance traitor in front of you.