Chapter One: Assignment

Omega, 2181

Omega had changed little in six years. The stench of the place crawled down his throat, coating his tongue with the reek of stale booze, burning plastic, and several different species' filth. The docks were packed with people, from the desperate and destitute to the lawless and predatory: Omega attracted only those too poor or too depraved to live anywhere else. Harsh yellowish light cast a sickly pallor over every scarred, sullen, or despair-slackened face. And the noise—the babble of alien voices washed over him in a rush that overwhelmed his translator until it picked up only the nearest and loudest, in snatches of shouts, profanities, and pitiable pleas.

And over it all loomed the gaudy façade of Afterlife, neon lights flashing atop a short, wide, and deceptively welcoming flight of stairs. The muffled thump of bass from within underscored the semi-organized chaos outside. It would be loud enough within as to be nearly impossible to hold a conversation without shouting, a prospect which made Thane distinctly uncomfortable.

He was supposed to be meeting with a prospective employer about a contract. Discussions such as these were best held in whispers, behind closed doors, not at the top of one's voice in a crowded bar. But he supposed that when you had to strain to hear the person speaking directly to you, it would be difficult to overhear anyone else's conversation.

Not that many on Omega would care if they did. Still, it left him on edge.

The line for admittance to Afterlife stretched from the base of the stairs almost back to the docking bays, held up by a snarling turian attempting to threaten the bouncer into letting him in without paying the exorbitant entry fee. He roared and cursed, brandishing an almost comically large shotgun—though even he knew better than to use it out here. And the bouncer, the same unflappable elcor who'd guarded this door six years ago, met him with all the warmth and compromise of a stone wall. "Unimpressed: you can pay, or you can leave."

Thane checked the time and shook his head impatiently. He was going to be late, a thoroughly embarrassing notion. He considered sending a message to his contact—perhaps they could vouch for him, convince the elcor to let him jump the line.

Then again, he thought as he eyed the bouncer again, perhaps not.

About the time he began to consider confronting the turian himself, someone tapped him on the shoulder roughly. "Krios?" a deep, gravelly voice rumbled. He turned and found himself confronted by a batarian in heavy armor, empty-handed but with an assault rifle strapped to his back.

Thane cocked his brow ridge and replied, "That depends upon who is asking."

The batarian scowled. "Don't play games, Krios. Aria knows you're here. She'll see you now."

Aria T'Loak? What did she want of him this time? Thane gritted his teeth as memories floated to the surface. The last time he'd encountered the pirate queen of Omega—

"Do that for me," she says, "and I'll point you right to where those friends of ours are hiding. Deal?"

I stare for a moment at her proffered hand. I feel sick. It's an easy enough job, but what she's asking me to do… it goes against everything I've been trained for, everything I believe in. But I have no other choice. And I think she knows it.

Defeated, I shake her hand. "Deal."

The cruelty of her answering grin makes me wonder what, exactly, I've gotten myself into.

Thane blinked once, shaking off the memory. "Well, she will have to wait," he said archly, turning toward the line again and tucking his hands behind his back. "I have an appointment I cannot miss." Though it was beginning to look as though he might, anyway. He clenched his jaw in annoyance.

With a snarl, the batarian grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him back around. It took an exercise of discipline not to break his arm and throw him to the ground. "Now," Aria's lackey growled. He tried to forcibly pull Thane out of the line, but Thane knocked his hands away and stepped aside of his own volition. He didn't have time for Aria's games. But if it got him into Afterlife without waiting for the outcome of the battle between irresistible force and immovable elcor that still raged up ahead, so be it.

The batarian began to follow him as he headed toward the doors. Thane stopped short but didn't turn around, instead tilting his head to the right ever so slightly. "I believe I can find my own way," he said coolly.

The batarian spluttered indignantly, but backed down. A wise move.

If Omega had changed little since Thane had been here last, Afterlife had changed not at all. The same repetitive, pulsing music blared through the club at deafening volume, the smoke of various substances choked the air with the same noxious miasma, and mostly-naked asari danced on tables with the same wanton abandon, for the pleasure of patrons watching with the same lecherous gazes.

Thane even recognized one of the bartenders. In a moment of curiosity, be approached the bar and waved the turian over.

"Don't get many drell here," the bartender commented. "What's your poison?"

"Actually, I'm looking for someone," said Thane. "The last time I was here, I spoke with a human girl. Anna. Is she still employed here?"

The bartender's mandibles flicked suspiciously as his eyes narrowed. "Why do you want to—oh!" He nodded in sudden recognition. "You're that guy who came by here a few years ago, askin' about that red sand dealer. What was his name? Skell?" He grinned. "Heard you did a number on him."

Thane swallowed hard against the memories that rose like bile in his throat. "Is she here, or is she not?" he snapped.

The bartender held u his hands and backed up a step. "Okay, don't wanna talk about it, I get it," he said, and shook his head. "Nah, she ain't here. OD'd on Hallex a couple years back. Forvan"—he jerked his thumb at the batarian at the other end of the bar—"found her in the stock room. Poor thing. She was a sweetheart. Didn't have the stuff to make it on Omega, though. This place'll eat you alive if you're not careful."

"Indeed," Thane murmured, as much to himself as to the bartender. Kalahira, Mistress of inscrutable depths… have mercy upon her. "Thank you."

"Yeah, sure."

Thane checked the time again, then headed for the table in the back corner where his contact had instructed him to wait. He still had no idea who he was meeting, only a pass phrase and prescribed response by which they would know one another.

He was saddened, if not surprised, to learn of Anna's fate. It had occurred to him to apologize to her. She had helped him in his… errand for Aria six years ago, and he had rewarded her only with cold dismissiveness. His thoughts had been taken elsewhere, consumed by grief and rage and desperation, and her flirtations—whether genuine or only expected of female bartenders in this establishment—had rubbed salt in his wounds. She couldn't have known that, of course.

But it was far too late now to make amends.

Before long, a tall, scowling turian strode up to his table and loomed over him, his mandibles flicking impatiently. "I thought Druval went out and got you so we could skip this charade," he growled. When Thane's only response was a raised brow ridge, he rolled his eyes. "Fine. Expel 10's playing tonight."

The pass phrase. "I have tickets to the show," he replied coolly. "You must forgive me for assuming security measures were put in place for a reason."

"Whatever. I'm not even the one you're here to meet, anyway," the turian sneered. "All's I know is, Aria's pissed. You better get up there."

The pieces were beginning to fall into place. This Druval must be the batarian he'd met outside. His "contact" was only a messenger. This entire meeting was a farce orchestrated by Aria to lure him into her web. It was possible there had never been a contract at all. She must have assumed that, after their last encounter, he would never willingly take a job for her again.

She had assumed correctly. But the pistol in the turian's hand—and the hard stares of several other nearby "patrons"—made it clear she'd successfully ensnared him, anyway.

He could still refuse. He might even escape with his life. But many innocents (insofar as the word could apply to anyone here) would inevitably be harmed in the process. Aria had won this round. "Very well," he said to the turian, and got up from the table to climb the stairs toward Aria's dais.

Aria paced back and forth, snarling, as four bodyguards looked on stonily. She reminded Thane of an Earth creature he'd read about, a lioness, all deadly grace and coiled power, hungry and ready to spring. She stopped her pacing as Thane approached, an icy smile spreading across her face.

"Thane Krios," she drawled before he could speak. "Took you long enough." She sat down on her couch and stared insouciantly up at him. "You made quite a mess of my station the last time you were here."

Forel's shrieks climb in pitch as my fingers sink into his face. Blood pours down his cheek as the eyeball pops loose, hot and slick in my hand. I tear it free. He vomits. "The name, or I take the others."

Thane forced the memories back and held Aria's gaze with a cold glare. "I shall endeavor to be… neater, this time," he replied, keeping his voice carefully dry. "What is it you want of me?"

"To talk about your contract, of course." Aria leaned back, crossing her long, shapely legs and draping her arms casually over the back of her couch as if around the shoulders of two invisible flunkies. "What else?"

So the hit was real, after all. Thane tucked his hands behind his back and raised his chin defiantly. "You may find someone else to do your torturing. I'll not work for you."

"Oh, come on, now." Aria pouted, but there was mockery in her eyes. "You can't tell me there wasn't something… satisfying about the way you took out our friend Mr. Skell."

"No." Biting back a snarl and more painful memories, Thane fought to keep his voice controlled. "Never again."

But Aria only laughed, low and throaty and darkly amused. She pushed herself to her feet in one fluid motion, pulling around herself a cloak of predatory and dangerous allure. Hips swaying, she stepped forward until there was only a finger's breadth between them, and brought one hand up to stroke the frills on his cheek in a shockingly intimate gesture. "You think you can say 'no' to me?" she purred.

Thane stiffened and gritted his teeth, but refused to allow her the satisfaction of any further reaction. "You have no leverage over me this time, Aria."

"Don't I?" She backed up half a step and waved a hand lazily. As one, all four of her bodyguards leveled their weapons at him, fingers on triggers. "No leverage at all?"

He swept his gaze coolly over each of them, assessing the situation. Two batarians, a turian, and a krogan awaited Aria's orders. At a word from her, or perhaps a gesture, they would open fire.

In that case, provided he could avoid the krogan's massive shotgun, his shields would hold for three to four seconds—more than enough time for him to kill or incapacitate the batarians, both of whom were armed only with light SMGs. The turian's assault rifle made him a bit more problematic, but if Thane could take advantage of the krogan's slower reaction time, he could get around behind him and use his bulk for cover. That would give him time to bring his biotics into play. He could Throw the turian over the railing behind the couch and onto the bar below, before the krogan could turn around. Then he should have just enough space to vault over the krogan, snapping his neck on the way down. If Aria chose to watch rather than intervene, as was her way, Thane would be in little danger indeed.

And if she did intervene… well, what did it matter?

No, if Aria thought this constituted "leverage," she was sorely mistaken. Meeting her eyes again, he said flatly, "None."

Aria stared down at him, evaluating, then scoffed and turned away to drop back onto her couch. Almost as an afterthought, she gestured for her men to stand down. "Suit yourself," she replied flippantly. "I wasn't going to ask for any torture this time, though. You could've stuck to your noble fucking principles for all I cared. I just thought you'd appreciate the challenge."

"Challenge?" Now, that was simply insulting. She was baiting him, he knew, but he rose to it anyway. He tucked his hands behind his back and stood straighter, glaring at her indignantly. "And what challenge could one salarian physician possibly pose to me?"

Aria smirked. "And now we come to the purpose of our little meeting." She nodded toward an empty section of couch in wordless invitation, and Thane hesitated, but sat. Staring out over the goings-on of Afterlife, Aria continued, "Mordin Solus isn't just a doctor. He's former STG, as likely to kill you as cure you. He spent his career working on a project that a certain friend of mine finds… objectionable."

STG? That changed things considerably. If this Solus had been part of the Special Tasks Group, he would likely have combat and surveillance skills far beyond the average physician—perhaps even to rival some trained in the Compact. He just might pose a challenge, indeed.

Despite everything, it was… tempting. Thane leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, folding his hands under his chin. "And this friend of yours wants Solus dead as retribution for his role in this project."

"In short, yes. There's more to it than that, but the rest is need to know. And you don't." She turned her head toward him just a fraction. "Interested? Or do you still want out?"

His first instinct was to refuse. He should leave. If she was going to give him an out, he should take it and run. Obviously, there was far more to this contract than she was telling him, and he strongly suspected he wouldn't like it if he knew. Aria's skills at manipulation, he knew from personal experience, were not to be underestimated.

But… something nagged at him.

As likely to kill you as cure you, she'd said. What did that mean? Surely this Solus didn't just decide on a whim, when someone came to his clinic for help, whether to treat them or shoot them on sight. That would be bad for business, even on Omega. No, it was more likely she meant he was experimenting on them, using his patients as lab animals to test new drugs and procedures. The thought made Thane's stomach turn. If Solus was abusing the trust inherent in his profession to prey on the vulnerable of Omega, like some mad scientist out of a horror vid, then he needed to be stopped. Immediately. Thane could not, in good conscience, walk away from this job simply because it was Aria T'Loak who asked.

He drew a deep breath, and nodded. "I'll do it."