Chapter 27: The Collector Tech Supplier
The data trail led us through seven shell corporations, fourteen encrypted accounts, and enough financial obfuscation to hide a small war. Miranda's fingers danced across her omni-tool, her Cerberus intelligence training unraveling layers of deception that would have stymied conventional investigators.
"Someone with serious resources is playing a very deep game."
"Look at this," she said, projecting holographic displays across our makeshift war room. "The supplier isn't acquiring random Collector technology. They're targeting specific components."
I studied the acquisition patterns, my enhanced pattern recognition picking up details that made my blood run cold. Seeker drone specimens for paralysis delivery systems. Organic computing matrices that interfaced with biological nervous systems. Kinetic barrier designs specifically optimized to counter Collector weapon frequencies.
"This isn't opportunistic scavenging. Someone knows exactly what Collector technology will be useful for."
Dr. Solveli emerged from his analysis corner, scanner readings projected above his workstation. "The component selection suggests advanced understanding of Collector tactical doctrine. Whoever's supplying this material knows how Collectors fight, what they'll target, and what defenses will be necessary."
Aria leaned against the wall, studying the data with calculating eyes. "The purchases started eight months ago. Small quantities, testing market response. But the orders are escalating—bigger samples, more sophisticated tech, higher prices."
"Building toward something," I said. "Preparing for an operation they know is coming."
Miranda's expression grew grim. "Marcus, there are only a few ways someone could have this level of foreknowledge about Collector operations."
"Direct collaboration with Collectors, or someone else who knows the future. Another transmigrant, maybe, or worse—someone working to ensure the Reapers win."
I tried to voice my fears about timeline manipulation and felt the familiar twist as my speech curse activated. "Someone's trying to organize a surprise birthday party for giant metal squids!"
Solveli's eye ridges furrowed at my nonsense statement, but Miranda had learned to decode my cursed warnings. Her face paled as she understood the implications.
"A conspiracy to ensure events proceed according to... the original schedule," she said carefully.
We traced the latest scheduled handoff to neutral territory—a cargo transfer in the abandoned mining sector where Eclipse and Blood Pack territories met. The perfect place for a deal that needed to stay hidden from faction surveillance.
"Time to find out who's been playing puppet master with Collector technology."
The ambush point was a maze of industrial equipment and defunct mining tunnels. Perfect for an extraction—multiple entry points, limited escape routes once we controlled the perimeter, and enough cover to avoid civilian casualties if things went violent.
Anto positioned himself on overwatch with his rifle, Kreek's vorcha spread through the tunnel network, and Miranda took position to intercept any runners. I settled into the main cargo bay, enhanced senses tracking movement patterns as our targets approached.
The Eclipse buyers arrived first—three asari commandos and a handful of human mercenaries. Professional, alert, but not expecting trouble. They'd purchased from this supplier before and considered the arrangement stable.
The supplier's agent appeared twenty minutes later, and my enhanced vision immediately flagged anomalies. Female asari, but something was wrong with her movement patterns. Too fluid, too precise, combat stances that wouldn't be developed for—
"Wait. That's not possible."
[ANALYZING COMBAT PATTERNS... WARNING: ANOMALOUS DATA]
[SUBJECT DISPLAYS FIGHTING TECHNIQUES NOT YET DEVELOPED]
[CLASSIFICATION: ANACHRONISTIC BEHAVIOR DETECTED]
[POSSIBLE TIMELINE ANOMALY: HIGH PROBABILITY]
The agent moved like ME3-era Asari commandos—advanced techniques, tactical awareness, and biotic control that represented years of war-forged evolution. But this was 2183. Those combat styles wouldn't exist until the Reaper War forced rapid tactical advancement.
"She's from the future. Or trained by someone who is."
The deal proceeded normally until I gave the signal. Anto's shot took down the lead Eclipse commando, Kreek's pack erupted from the tunnels, and the cargo bay became a battleground.
But the supplier's agent didn't react like someone caught off-guard. She moved with preternatural grace, her biotics flowing in patterns I'd never seen, deflecting attacks that should have overwhelmed any single combatant.
My enhanced reflexes barely kept me ahead of her counterattack as she carved through Kreek's vorcha with deadly efficiency. This wasn't just advanced training—this was someone who'd fought Reapers, who'd survived the impossible conflicts of the future war.
"How is she here? How does she know things that haven't happened yet?"
I managed to corner her after Miranda's tech attack disrupted her barriers, but even captured, she remained unnaturally calm.
"You're interfering," she said, voice carrying the weight of absolute certainty. "The cycle must proceed correctly. Your preparations, your warnings—they create paradoxes that will make the outcome worse."
"What cycle?" I demanded.
"The harvest. The Reapers. You know what's coming, but you don't understand the necessity. Preparing people to fight will only ensure more suffering when they inevitably lose."
"She knows. She knows about the Reapers, the timeline, everything."
"Who's your employer?"
Her smile was sad, resigned. "Someone who understands that some futures cannot be prevented, only optimized for minimal casualties. Your interference threatens that optimization."
I felt Miranda's hand on my shoulder, a warning squeeze. The agent's biometrics were spiking, stress indicators suggesting imminent action.
"You won't get answers from me," she said. "But consider this: every life you save now may cost ten lives later. Every advantage you provide may ensure disadvantages when they're needed most. Some heroes are only heroic because they face impossible odds."
She bit down on something concealed in her mouth. Poison, fast-acting, designed to prevent interrogation. She died with that same resigned smile, taking her secrets with her.
"Someone's working to preserve the original timeline. To ensure the Reapers win, because they believe anything else would be worse."
We searched her equipment, finding technology that shouldn't exist—Shadow Broker surveillance gear, Cerberus biotech enhancements, and buried deeper, data fragments that made my System scream warnings.
[PROTHEAN DATA ARCHIVES DETECTED]
[ACCESS LEVEL: ARCHIVES THAT DO NOT CURRENTLY EXIST]
[WARNING: TEMPORAL PARADOX INDICATORS PRESENT]
[ANALYSIS: SOMEONE HAS ACCESS TO INFORMATION FROM EXTINCT CIVILIZATION]
Miranda's scanner confirmed the impossible readings. "This Prothean data is authentic, but it's from archives that were supposedly destroyed fifty thousand years ago. How did she have access to information that doesn't exist?"
Aria arrived as we were processing the evidence, her expression darkening as she reviewed our findings.
"Someone's playing a deeper game than faction politics," she said. "This level of coordination, this access to impossible information—we're dealing with forces that operate beyond normal power structures."
The Patriarch materialized from the shadows where he'd been observing, ancient eyes holding disturbing knowledge.
"When the cycle changes," he said in that voice like grinding stone, "forces beyond your knowing try to course-correct. Someone wants the harvest to happen on schedule, boy. They believe your interference threatens something worse than extinction."
"Something worse than the Reapers winning? What could possibly be worse than galactic genocide?"
"Who benefits from ensuring the Reapers succeed?" I asked.
The Patriarch's laugh was bitter. "That, boy, is the question that will define your path. Are you fighting the Reapers, or are you fighting those who serve them? Because in this game, they may not be the same enemy."
[QUEST PROGRESSION: "THE COLLECTOR TECH SUPPLIER" - 50% COMPLETE]
[CONSPIRACY REVEALED: TIMELINE PRESERVATION FORCES IDENTIFIED]
[ASARI BIOTIC HERITAGE DATA: 58% → 71% FROM EXTENDED COMBAT]
[EXPERIENCE GAINED: +400 XP - 1100/4000 TO LEVEL 8]
[NEW REVELATION: MARC'S TIMELINE INTERFERENCE HAS ATTRACTED HOSTILE ATTENTION]
That night, I couldn't sleep. The agent's words echoed in my mind—paradoxes, worse outcomes, the necessity of letting people suffer to minimize greater suffering. Was my interference making things worse? Was I accidentally helping the Reapers by trying to fight them?
Miranda found me at 3 AM, reviewing data for the hundredth time.
"You're wondering if you're making things worse," she said.
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
"What if my interference is causing the Collectors to come earlier? What if I'm accidentally accelerating the timeline, giving the Reapers advantages I never intended?"
She sat beside me, studying my face with those brilliant blue eyes that had learned to see past my defenses.
"Or what if you're the variable that finally breaks the cycle? You can't know, Marcus. The future is unwritten now. All you can do is fight for the people here, now, and trust that doing the right thing in the moment leads to better outcomes."
"But what if it doesn't? What if every life I save now costs ten lives later?"
The System, unusually quiet during my crisis, finally offered its own philosophical observation:
[USER IS EXPERIENCING TIMELINE CAUSALITY ANXIETY]
[ANALYSIS: YOUR EXISTENCE ALREADY CHANGED EVERYTHING]
[RECOMMENDATION: FORWARD IS THE ONLY DIRECTION AVAILABLE]
[ADDENDUM: UNCERTAINTY IS PREFERABLE TO GUARANTEED EXTINCTION]
I looked at Miranda, this brilliant woman who'd defected from everything she knew to stand beside me against incomprehensible forces.
"Someone out there is working to ensure the Reapers win," I said. "They have resources, future knowledge, and the absolute conviction that their path leads to better outcomes. How do we fight enemies who believe they're saving the galaxy by letting it burn?"
"The same way we fight any enemy," Miranda replied. "We choose to believe that people are worth saving, that hope is worth fighting for, and that sometimes breaking a terrible cycle is worth the risk of unknown consequences."
Outside our window, Omega continued its eternal rotation, millions of lives continuing their daily struggles unaware that forces beyond their comprehension were playing games with their futures. Some wanted to save them. Others wanted to preserve a timeline that ensured their destruction.
I was becoming the fulcrum between those opposing forces, and every choice I made would ripple outward in ways I couldn't predict or control.
But the System was right. Forward was the only direction available. And if unknown consequences were the price of refusing to accept guaranteed genocide, then I'd pay that price.
The conspiracy was larger and more dangerous than I'd imagined. But so was I.
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