And here's Chapter 2, introducing everyone's favorite information broker. I'd like to apologize for the length of these chapters, by the way; I'm trying to avoid getting bogged down in them, and I think it's working pretty well so far. Without further ado:

Illium

Almara T'Riso was an excellent secretary. In practical terms, this meant that she met three criteria:

She was competent in typing and information filing.

She was skilled enough with biotics to keep most unwanted visitors at bay.

She was not working for the Shadow Broker.

Truth be told, though, she was no Nyxeris; both her personal manner and professional bearing could be grating, and she had a most annoying habit of offering suggestions in terms of both stock trades and information deals. If this meant that Liara would not have to crush her head, however, it was a fair tradeoff.

"Almara, has Mr. Thax sent the runner over yet?" Liara T'Soni asked, keying her computer in to the receptionist's channel with a single slim finger. It would be possible to simply open the door and ask her, but that defeated the purpose of having an intercom, didn't it?

"No, ma'am," the receptionist replied, after a moment. "Ma'am, there is someone here to see you, though. She is… quite well-stocked."

Liara tensed. Upon her instatement as receptionist, Almara had all but insisted they adopt foolish code-words to be used to report situations out of the ordinary. 'Well-stocked' was one of the less-subtle ones; it meant 'armed'. Liara slid her hand under her desk, wrapping her fingers around the well-worn butt of a Kessler pistol. Perhaps the code words were not so foolish after all. "Send her in," she said.

The door hissed open, and Liara relaxed - a small bit. "Shepard – forgive me, Alex – it's good to see you again," she said, folding her hands atop her desk. The Commander was indeed armed – a jet-black pistol, one of the Spectre X-Series, hung from her belt – but she was in civilian clothing, and Liara's sharp eyes couldn't pick out the flickers of a personal shield around her. "To what do I owe the pleasure of the visit?"

"It's good to see you too, Liara," Shepard replied, taking a seat when Liara gestured to it. "I wanted – well, a lot of things, actually. Are you busy?"

"I am expecting an errand runner sometime this morning," Liara replied, unable to keep herself from checking the computer's projected holographic screen. "But I'm sure we'll have all the time we need." She keyed the door closed, and turned off the intercom with a sweep of her fingers. "Well then, Alex, what can I do for you?"

"Liara," Shepard began, standing up, "we just need to talk. About the Reapers. About the Collectors. About us."

Liara's eyes flicked to the small mirror on her desk. Yes – the camera atop the stall directly across the trading floor was trained on her office. Shepard's entrance had not gone unnoticed, and this conversation was likely drumming up intense interest on the part of whoever had planted the camera.

"I'm sorry, but we can't have this conversation," she replied coolly, casually shifting in her seat to hide her mouth from the camera's lens. "I'm being watched, Shepard, or had you forgotten?"

"You're still under suspicion, then?" Shepard asked, sitting down again. "Even with Ny –"

Liara's eyes flashed, blazing white with biotic energy. "Do not finish that sentence, Shepard," she intoned softly. "I will not have you jeopardize my hunt by blindly spewing the news of her death all over Illium's surveillance net –"

Before she could react, Shepard's pistol was drawn and up, the barrel sliding soundlessly out of the grip to increase muzzle velocity and dampen the sound of the shot. Liara dove for the Kessler, fumbled for a critical – the critical! – moment, and squeezed her eyes shut as the shot –

Blew past her ear.

Stunned, Liara felt the pistol slide from her grip. The dull thump of plasticine against the carpet shattered the stillness the bullet had left in its wake, and Liara heard the quiet tinkle of falling glass. She turned; a pattern of impossibly fine spiderweb cracks surrounded a glowing-red donut of molten glass in the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out onto the trading floor. A tiny plume of smoke rose from the trading stall across the floor; the camera was so much scrap. Shepard holstered her pistol.

"This is why we need to talk, Liara," Shepard replied, her voice quiet. "Why can't we trust each other anymore?"

"It – it's not that simple, Shepard," Liara began, but the whir of the door interrupted her. Almara stood on the threshold, her biotic field sparking ozone-sharp in the humid air.

"Ma'am, I heard gunfire," she said, scanning the scene – and obviously coming to the wrong conclusion. Her eyes narrowed. "Shall I remove your... guest, ma'am?"

"Yes, Almara," Liara replied quickly. Shepard's eyes widened, and she opened her mouth, but Liara stepped around the desk to help her to her feet. "Please escort Commander Shepard back to the Normandy," she continued, giving her a gentle push in the lower back. "I'm sure she won't give you any trouble, will you, Commander?"

Shepard looked a bit perplexed, but she shook her head. "I was just heading back, anyway."

"Thank you, Shepard." As Almara and the Commander disappeared through the door, Liara sank back into her chair with an exhausted sigh. Transmitting information skin-to-skin had never been her strong suit, and was in fact incredibly difficult; still, she had to hope that the concepts of 'here' and 'midnight' that she had attempted to send had made it to Shepard during the brief instant her fingers had lifted the hem of the Commander's shirt. But if not…

Well. She had watched enough bridges burn to get where she was. Another would hardly add to the black smoke filling the sky.

There's a hint of action for you - hopefully it's not too cliche. The main plot, such as it is, will be starting up next chapter, which I'll post in a few days. Part 4's giving me trouble, though, so I may or may not be able to stick to schedule after Chapter 3 goes up.

Thanks as always for your time, and please consider spending a little more of it dropping me a review. It gives me warm fuzzies.