A/N: Sorry folks if this is a little later than intended. It's also a bit rougher than I had hoped as well.

Shuttle Craft, Sahrabarik System

The small shuttle fell towards the pirate, asteroid haven of Omega. No running lights twinkled to help other spacecraft avoid it and no glow emanated from the cold, inert, thrusters. Even the small craft's transponder had been disabled – a violation of even the most universal safety regulation for civilian space vehicles. Normally a vessel so apparently abandoned would be swiftly caught and stripped of anything of value by any of the ships that passed through Sahrabarik or perhaps used as an impromptu target for anyone with an over-powering need to shoot things. But somehow this shuttle had avoided such fates; like an errant leaf it had flown, unnoticed, past the predators that stalked the system – undetected even in the crowded, paranoid space just outside of Omega.

Shepard noticed Joker making a small adjustment to the shuttle's course, "Problem?"

"Not now," the pilot's voice was relaxed – in contrast to the determined focus with which Joker's gaze kept sweeping over his display. "That freighter at 10-high just slowed a little, so we'd have passed through his drive exhaust. Now we won't."

"Fair enough," Shepard conceded.

The anger in Joker's voice was almost abstract, "How about I concentrate on flying this bosh'tet brick to Omega – undetected. Whilst you figure out how the two of us are going to handle Ashley's goon squad being pissed when they realise your plan's a misdirect?"

Shepard gave a guilty glance back towards the closed hatch leading to the shuttle's payload section before replying. "I'll deal with them when it happens," the Spectre rolled his right shoulder subconsciously, "maybe I'll get lucky and it won't come to that."

"Maybe I'll get lucky," Joker's imitation of his friend was not flattering. "What, are we relying on dumb luck now?" the pilot's hand rose to tug at the brim of his ball-cap, "Shepard, the last plan of yours was a suicide mission – and I'm telling you now. I felt more comfortable with that one than what we're doing now."

"Well, keep this to yourself, but that goes double for me," Shepard ostentatiously kept his gaze fixed on the shuttle view-screen, watching his friend's reaction from the corner of his eye.

Joker's hand shot back up to his ball-cap before he realised Shepard's intention. "Asshole," the pilot brought his arm back down sheepishly, "Not cool Shepard."

"Sorry," the smirk on Shepard's face was unrepentant though, "but the plan will work – probably."

"Commander let's be honest here, what we've got isn't so much a plan more just a general intent," the pilot made another course adjustment whilst talking, "Basically it boils down to – you show up on Omega, Miranda shows up too, you persuade her to quit Cerberus and tell us about the defences they've placed around the Collector Base, we find a way through and then use those anti-matter warheads the Council provided to destroy the Collector Base; all the while hoping that Brooks and her group of assholes on the Normandy aren't so pissed off at you –for lying to them about stashing a copy of the Reaper IFF code in Mordin's clinic– that they don't just kick you out the airlock and go home," the pilot stopped for air. "There's a lot that can go wrong with this," he continued, "like problem number one – what if Miranda isn't there?"

"Joker… she'll be there," Shepard's voice was firm.

Joker made an uncommitted noise in his throat. "Well even if she is there, how are you hoping to persuade her? I mean she persuaded you to give Cerberus the Collector's station – no offense but I think she's better at persuasion than you are," Joker's next comment was muttered too low for even Shepard to hear.

"That wasn't how it happened," Shepard's whisper wasn't directed at Joker. Instead the pilot's friend kept his eyes focused outwards; Shepard wasn't ready to have this conversation, not before he had given Miranda the chance to explain her actions on the Collector Base – not until Shepard and the woman he loved both knew where they stood. "If I can't persuade Miranda," the Spectre finally responded to Joker's query, "then I'll have to use the marines."

The cabin fell silent at the Spectre's resolution. "Well that would suck," Joker stated.

"Get us onto Omega without being detected Joker," Shepard asked his friend, "We'll deal with what comes after that when it happens."

Street Market, Omega

The Omega marketplace was crowded enough and sufficiently dangerous enough that an armoured man making his ways through the stalls didn't look out-of-place. The heavy re-breather piece that effectively obscured the lower half of his face was not uncommon either – the air quality on Omega was perhaps best described as wide-ranging. From the choking machine spaces of the eezo refinery to the more rarefied and scented chambers of Omega's élite – and Aria T'Loak, the self-proclaimed ruler, of Omega could easily order them swapped around.

The armoured human gradually made his way through the standings; not buying anything until he had compared the prices between several different stalls. Moving back and forth between vendors haphazardly, working randomly through an apparently eclectic shopping list of firearms, weapon mods, ship parts, and foodstuffs – all to be delivered to one of the more remote shuttle bays on the station.

Shepard didn't react when his ear-piece gave a sudden single click as he handed over the cred-stick with the funds for his latest purchase. Instead he smoothly finished his transaction, the voice modulator of his re-breather commenting on the batarian merchant's haggling prowess as he wrung his right wrist. Seconds later his ear-piece clicked again then paused, before giving another three clicks. The Spectre moved away from the stall his eyes now scanning the crowds south of him for a familiar silhouette and his left arm came to rest against his right elbow, a second later four swift clicks came from his ear-piece and Shepard let his hand drop away from his elbow.

The Spectre tried to remain anonymous in the bustle, moving at the pace of the crowds and stifling the urge to jostle his way through the throng. Then he saw them, a trio of people making their way through the market, a pair of hard looking veterans –with a uniformity of equipment that suggested military rather than mercenary– and Miranda Lawson. The Cerberus Operative was a picture of health, an epitome of confidence – a complete contrast to the harried and exhausted woman who had appeared in her message to Shepard back on Arcturus. The sight of her caused Shepard to misstep, brushing against the person next to him and sending the unbalanced asari bystander stumbling into a market stall selling salvaged mech parts. The turian vendor started shouting at the matronly asari, accusing her of being a thief and drawing the attention of more people nearby, including the Cerberus trio. The two troopers' attention focused on the developing scene for a second, assessing it for possible threats, before they returned to scanning the marketplace. Miranda's gaze also lingered on the shouting before moving on, sweeping over the jostling crowds and brushing the Spectre.

The instant Miranda's gaze touched Shepard, his heartbeat suddenly accelerated. It was if someone had suddenly injected adrenaline into the Spectre's blood, his mouth went dry and his breath passed harshly through the re-breather. The suspicions of Ashley's chosen marines after they had left Mordin's former clinic in the Gozu District empty-handed, the usurpation of his ship by Maya Brooks and her supporters in the Systems Alliance Parliament, the demands of the Citadel Council – all of that pressure eased as the brunette's gorgeous eyes met Shepard's. A smile curled the tips of Miranda's lips, before she remembered her companions and hurriedly schooled her face back into a controlled mask. The Cerberus Operative lead her two guards towards the waiting Spectre; Shepard just stood and watched her walk.

One of the guards stepped forward, between Miranda and Shepard, whilst the other stood bristling at the crowds, creating a small clear space around the group. "Are you sure it is him, ma'am?" a black, featureless, helmet and voice synthesiser hid the first trooper's identity.

"I'm sure," the new smile on Miranda's face was polite, for public consumption, a faint echo of the one she had just hidden, "I recognise the eyes, they're his."

"You're looking better," the voice modulator made Shepard's voice harsher than he intended.

Miranda's chin came up, tilting her head back from the Spectre and her eyes hardened. "I'm sorry," her voice was as cold as it had ever been on Minuteman Station, "It was decided if you thought I was endangered you would be more likely to listen." The brunette seemed to soften, "I didn't agree – but it wasn't my decision."

"I guess I should have known better than to trust you after all," Shepard couldn't blame the voice modulator for the harshness now, "I guess Cerberus played me – again."

"Shepard," Miranda moved forward, past the glowering bodyguard and sliding smoothly into the Spectre's personal space, "you can trust me. Just help me to do what's necessary; we both know the Collector Base is our best hope against the Reapers. You agreed that we needed to save it."

Miranda's face filled Shepard's universe, those blue eyes and her so-familiar lips. Shepard hesitated, wavering between Miranda and the Alliance. The former officer stepped back. "Cerberus killed my friends, Miranda, on Akuze, on Arcturus. The cruiser they sent to kidnap my friends – killed my mother out of spite when they failed," Shepard used the words as a bolster, "As long as you're with Cerberus, I can't trust you."

The pain that flickered across Miranda's face tore at Shepard, "Don't ask me to betray Cerberus, betray the galaxy's one hope of finding someway to stop the Reapers, Shepard. I can't. I can't choose being with you, over saving everyone. You know that."

"I guess I do – now," The Spectre clenched his right fist twice whilst he took a breath to ready himself and saw the realisation of his intent in Miranda's eyes. "This time, I'm sorry," Shepard apologised, "you had to know two guards wouldn't be enough."

An arm snaked around Shepard's neck from behind, choking the Spectre – and Kai Leng's voice hissed, "Actually, she ha…"

The Spectre's head snapped back, breaking Kai Leng's nose, transforming the rest of the would-be ambusher's sentence into a pained warble and breaking the choke hold. The Spectre cocked his hip and threw the dazed man to the ground, whilst a pair of simultaneous sniper shots took out the other two guards now moving towards the Spectre. The shoppers and vendors surrounding the suddenly bloody tableau scattered.

Miranda stood motionless; the two dead guards had been standing either side of her. The brunette understood the situation.

Kai Leng stilled after Shepard drove his boot into the side of the Cerberus agent's head. The Spectre drew a pair of restraints from his belt and gently tossed them to Miranda, "Please, Miri. The marines on those rifles won't hesitate." Miranda Lawson stared at the Spectre and Shepard couldn't guess at her emotions, it was if a wall had sprung up between them. "Please, Miri," Shepard pleaded.

Finally the brunette bent down and picked up the manacles, clicking them around each wrist. An immaculate eyebrow arched, "Happy now?" Miranda taunted.

Shepard reached up and removed the re-breather covering the lower half of his face. "Not even close," the unhappy man said in his own voice, then reached up to tap his communication-piece. "Prisoner," the word drew a venomous glare from Miranda, "secured. Stand down Team One and head for the hill. Team Two we'll meet at the rendezvous location."

The voice of Corporal Ikale Calleja, one of Ashley William's marine squad, sounded over the channel, "Goat, this is One India, I'm seeing a large crowd moving in on you; mostly civilians."

Shepard could hear an angry murmuring sound getting closer, "How many and from which direction?"

"A lot," One India reported, "maybe thirty – forty plus, sir. Coming from your west," the marine paused before adding, "They're mostly batarian, sir."

Shepard turned to look west, searching for the crowd between the jumbled stalls and alleyways.

"Shepard," Miranda had moved unnoticed, slipping as comfortably into the Spectre's personal space as she had in the Normandy's engine room, "what's wrong?" the concern in her voice sounded genuine.

"Batarians – a lot of them," Shepard didn't have to explain further. The Spectre turned and looked at the unconscious form of Kai Leng. "Get his legs," Shepard instructed, "I'll get his arms. If that crowd finds him, they may kill him before they realise…" his voice trailed off as he realised Miranda hadn't moved. Instead the Cerberus Operative stared at the Spectre as he asked, simply, "Miri."

The gorgeous brunette stepped towards the senseless Kai Leng and helped Shepard lift the beaten agent.

"Thank you," Shepard's words just seemed to slide off an icy wall between him and Miranda. The disgraced commander sighed and tilted his head towards a deserted, sturdy looking market stall, "We'll stash him in there, after that he's on his own." The two humans easily carried the unconscious man towards the stall, hurriedly hiding him under a pile of elcor shawls, as the sounds of the crowd growing closer.

"That will have to do," Shepard looked over his shoulder; the crowd would be upon them soon. "We should…" the Spectre was cut off as Miranda surged at him, her lips pressed against his and the rest of the world fell away. There was only Miranda, her taste, her scent, the way she felt pressed against him. After a moment the two separated, both more than a little breathless.

"For being you – and for doing the right thing," Miranda's words where whispered, her forehead rested against Shepard's as their breaths mingled.

This time Shepard captured Miranda's lips, massaging them, parting them, drawing low moans from both humans. "For being you," Shepard murmured after they separated, staring into Miranda's eyes before adding, "We should go."

The couple ran from the noise of the crowd, jinking down passages and alleyways in an effort to hide their trail, "Where are we going?" Miranda asked the Spectre.

"There's an air-car pad not far from here," Shepard replied as he guided them both, "we left a vehicle there earlier." There was a loud shout from behind the couple as a trio of batarians caught sight of Shepard and Miranda running, "Come on."

The couple broke into a flat-out sprint, eschewing their earlier tactic of weaving down alleyways in favour of a straight line flight to their exit. The crowd noise behind them surged in volume, but not in proximity, the batarians couldn't match the speed of the rebuilt Spectre and the genetically perfect woman. The two runners rounded the last corner before finally reaching the landing pad – where a dozen heavily armed mercenaries, of several different species, waited patiently on the deserted platform. A mixture of shotguns and rifles rose to aim at the two humans, ending the race.

There was silence for a second as the gunmen waited, letting their captives realise the hopelessness of their situation; caught in the open by a large well-armed group, no cover to utilise, no exits, and an angry mob growing closer by the second. "Aria T'Loak wants to speak with you, Spectre," the leader of the disparate gunmen was a hard-faced batarian named Anto Bek'tall, "Now."

"Sorry, but I'm busy," Shepard panted back.

"Aria doesn't care," Aria's lieutenant retorted, "Which means I don't either." The batarian gestured to a vorcha underling before ordering, "Take their weapons."

Shepard's pistol was in his hand and aimed at Anto's head before the vorcha could take a step, "Not happening." The Spectre sensed Miranda doing the same, training her weapon on the luckless vorcha who had been ordered to disarm them.

Aria's thugs shifted a little – adjusting their aim. The speed with which the two humans had drawn weapons unnerving some of them a little, Bek'tall wasn't one of them. "You really think you can kill all of us? Even before that mob arrives?" the batarian's voice was scornful, "Or is what the Hegemony broadcasts true – that you just can't get enough of killing batarians?"

Shepard could hear the crowd getting closer, keeping his eyes –and pistol– focused on Aria's lieutenant, the Spectre reached up to tap his communicator. "Teams One and Two, I need assistance on the hill, can you provide at this time?"

"Negative, Goat," the voice of One India responded, "Team One cannot reach the hill, diverting to secondary exit, recommend you leave ASAP."

"Commander," Joker's voice followed One India's, "sorry I mean, Goat. Hang on – I'll be there in five minutes."

Shepard gave a smile at Joker's antics, "Thanks anyway Two, divert and pick up One at the secondary. I'll just have to go talk with Aria." The Spectre dropped his hand away from his ear and said wearily, "Miri, let it go." The two humans lowered their weapons together and the cowed vorcha scurried up, snarling pitifully as he took their weapons.

As the unbalanced vorcha staggered away with the weapons of Shepard and Miranda's arsenal, Anto gestured to another of his soldiers –a turian this time– and ordered, "Call for the transports." Aria's batarian henchman moved to stand closer to his captives and signalled to a further two of his minions. "Get rid of the rabble," he ordered, at Shepard's angry start the batarian added mockingly, "Be humane."

The krogan and human thugs looked puzzled for a second then the krogan gave a rumbled laugh and lifted a flame-thrower from his back, whilst his companion un-holstered an assault rifle. "Humane," the krogan chuckled, "we can do that."

The human fired his rifle down the passageway leading to the market, shouts and screams of alarm could be heard echoing down the corridor. The mercenary continued firing until the thermal clip of his weapon ejected and as the human replaced it his krogan companion stepped forward, sending several jets of flame roaring down the corridor. After a few seconds the krogan paused. "You be warned," the large mercenary roared in the lull, "that was us being humane." There was silence from the corridor and the krogan mercenary sent several more blasts of flame down the passageway in satisfaction.

"We're done here," Anto told Shepard and Miranda as a group of air-cars arrived to hover over the landing pad. "Get in and behave yourselves," the batarian ordered, before threatening, "Aria only wants to talk with Shepard, I've no objection to leaving the woman behind for any survivors to play with."

Afterlife Night Club, Omega

Aria T'Loak, the ruler of Omega –an asari crime boss that had seized the largest pirate haven in the Terminus Systems and then ruthlessly ruled it for longer than the Systems Alliance had existed– and currently the last asari Shepard wanted to see. The asari criminal lounged comfortably on a couch facing her two captives. "Commander Shepard and Cerberus' Miranda Lawson," the asari's voice was almost playful, "running around my station without so much as a hello." The playful tone disappeared under ice, "That was a bad idea. There's only one rule on Omega and you both ignored it."

"Aria," Shepard wanted to take a step forward but the four thugs with guns pointed at him and Miranda suggested that would be unwise, "our meeting was…a personal affair. We were trying to avoid everyone's notice."

"A personal affair," Aria's mouth quirked, "would explain the handcuffs. But would you have me believe the executions in the lower market where, what, foreplay?" The asari's fingers drummed angrily along the back of her couch, "I don't think that sounds much like the heroic Commander Shepard – or could it be the Batarian Hegemony are actually right? Do you share that thrill from killing, Shepard?"

"What do you want, Aria?" Shepard asked, "An apology for not getting your permission before boarding?"

Aria smiled, briefly, "Cute, but not really good enough." The asari criminal's eyes became disinterested, "You snuck aboard my station undetected, Shepard, then wandered around unchallenged until provoking a mob of batarians, which you then butchered." Aria's smile returned," I think an example has to be made, something creative," the smile was shark-like now, "Or should I be humane and simply hand you over to the batarians? Their bounty for you is large enough to warrant even my attention."

"Surrendering me to the batarians makes you look even weaker, Aria," Shepard objected, "Cerberus already passes –unchallenged– through your system, whilst the rest of the galaxy watches as the turians and the Alliance dismembers the organisation. Cerberus weakens by the day – and the Pirate Queen of Omega still huddles on her rock whenever they pass her by." This time Shepard took the step forward, defying the guns and wishes of Omega's ruler, "If you give me to the batarians, you're admitting you can't handle me." Another step, "If you give me to the batarians," a final step and now Shepard loomed over the seated asari, "you'll be dead before they even get started with me. Your pert arse on that couch replaced – by someone better."

Aria T'Loak stared up at the Spectre towering over her, stared up and burst out laughing. The asari rose, forcing Shepard to take a step back to prevent a collision. "Cerberus pays handsomely to travel through my system unmolested by me. The Illusive Man's credits pour from his accounts into mine as he grows more desperate and ever more reliant on my continued ambivalence." Aria was face to face with Shepard now, "Handing you over to the batarians isn't a sign of weakness, Shepard; it's a sign of contempt. It tells everyone you're beneath me, that I let the batarians have their prize because I didn't want it." The Pirate Queen and the Spectre stood motionless, an irresistible force confronting an immovable object. With a smile Aria moved, circling around the Spectre, stalking, daring him to crack and turn to follow. The asari's voice continued tauntingly, "As for being replaced, there is no-one better than me. Not in this room, or on this station, or in the entire Terminus. I have ruled here since before your species even discovered the Prothean ruins on your neighbouring planet. I have not survived for so long by allowing threats to develop – or continue."

A sudden blow to the Spectre's head sent Shepard staggering and then collapsing to the ground. Aria moved until she stood in front of the dazed Spectre, her fist glowing with the blue aura that signalled the asari's use of her biotics. "I'll sell you to the batarians – and you will thank me for it, Spectre," the asari's voice was cold, emotionless, "Because whatever they will do to you, it will be far gentler than my ministrations."

"You made an agreement with Cerberus," Miranda interrupted, "taking us as prisoners violates it." The Cerberus Operative met Aria's icy stare with her own, "Release us, before Cerberus has to take steps."

"Threatening me in my station is a foolish idea, Ms Lawson," the threat in the asari's voice was clear, "Your employer obviously needs more capable employees."

"You where warned," the Cerberus Operative's voice was so cold it was almost inhuman, drawing even the dazed Spectre's attention as he moved to stand. There was an ugly, wet ripping noise as the fabric –and skin– of Miranda's forearms bulged and tore apart. There was a glimpse of metal, nestling amongst the mangled flesh, as the apparently human woman moved her arms – effortlessly breaking apart the restraints Shepard had given to her earlier. One arm swept up to point towards Aria T'Loak, whilst the other pointed at two of the asari's guards and from the gun barrels that now projected from just above the android's wrists, came a stream of bullets.

A combination of her biotic prowess and natural agility was all that saved the Pirate Queen of Omega from death; the latter twisting her body from the android's attack and the former deflected most of the bullets away from the asari. But two tore through Aria's midriff, sending her tumbling –face down– onto the couch she had been sitting upon. The asari's guards fared worse, somehow the rounds failed to trip the sensors of their kinetic shielding, passing through them unhindered. The human from the landing pad twitched uncontrollably as bullets ripped through his body, tearing through muscles and organs, severing tendons, and fracturing bones. His turian companion fared a little better, his light armour proving sufficient to save him until –less than a second after his companion fell– a round passed through his unprotected head, via his left eye.

Shepard let himself collapse back to the floor, rolling aside as Aria's two remaining guards finally opened fire on Cerberus' murderous android. Anto Bek'tall fired a Kassa Fabrications Locust, the rounds from the little weapon triggering the android's shields but otherwise causing no damage. The other batarian guard opened fire as well, his rifle's more powerful rounds overwhelming the shielding of the Cerberus machine and shredding through the skin that had concealed its nature.

The machine gracefully turned, almost pirouette-like, to attack Aria's remaining guards as Shepard crawled over to the already slain pair. The Spectre pried a krogan made assault rifle from one of the corpses as bullets from the infiltrator tore through Anto's legs and pelvis, sending the heavily wounded batarian to the floor whilst more rifle rounds from the sole standing guard tore away chunks of flesh and hair from the false-Miranda's head.

Another burst of fire from the now-damaged machine felled the remaining guard seconds before the Spectre could bring his captured weapon to bear; suddenly the android was lifted up into the air, twisting helplessly as it was held captive by a mass effect field. Shepard's head turned to see the wounded Aria T'Loak back on her feet, a look of almost volcanic fury on her face as her biotics flared. A burst of fire from one of the arm-guns shredded the couch cushion next to the Pirate Queen, who responded with a sequenced twitch of the fingers on her left hand that sent her captive sailing out across the deserted main floor of the club. As the machine crashed into the un-staffed bar across the room, Aria turned to watch. Raising her right hand, that had somehow found a salarian made pistol, the asari crime boss fired several times into the mangled wreckage of what had been a bar not stopping until the weapon over-heated. The salarian rounds generated a series of small explosions, setting the tangle of alcohol, bar, and machine alight.

The Spectre couldn't afford to hesitate, he moved behind Aria as she fired, striking the asari's head with the butt of his weapon when the crime boss' pistol overheated; the wounded asari dropped –boneless– to the floor.

Shepard knelt next to the downed biotic, checking her for a pulse and breath, being strangely relieved when discovering both where fine. The Spectre scooped up Aria's pistol, it didn't fit in Shepard's leg holster correctly -being a different shape than the Phalanx that had been taken from him- but it wouldn't fall out easily. A small fireball lifted from the spreading bar fire to scorch the roof of Afterlife as more alcohol ignited and the Spectre could see movement in the flames – something was clawing its way out of the blaze.

From behind the Spectre came the distinct beep and hiss of a medi-gel applicator. Shepard swivelled around, the Striker rifle at his shoulder and ready to fire. Anto already had his Locust aimed, one-handed, at Shepard; an empty medi-gel applicator was held in the other. The batarian's eyes flickered between Shepard and the motionless asari.

"She's alive," Shepard told the other man, "out cold, but alive." Neither weapon wavered. "That thing's getting back up," the Spectre saw a brief flicker of uncertainty in the batarian's upper set of eyes and gave his head a slight, almost unnoticeable, tilt to the left, "I can get its attention, give you a chance to get out. I don't like your chances otherwise."

"Go," the word was snarled from Anto's mouth and the batarian's aim shifted away slightly, "But remember, Aria won't forget this – I won't forget this."

Shepard rose from his kneeling position and headed to the stairs that lead to Afterlife's main floor, pausing for a second at their head to look back. The Council Spectre saw the wounded batarian struggle up off the floor and painfully walk to the unconscious Pirate Queen, running a medical scan on his omni-tool to confirm Shepard's assessment. The Council Spectre said nothing, only watched, as the still badly wounded Anto Bek'tall struggled to lift the unconscious Aria T'Loak. Silently, Shepard removed a medi-gel applicator from his belt and tossed it to land next to the two wounded people, the hardened plastic of the applicator protecting its contents, before turning and hurrying down the stairs.

The fire was spreading more rapidly as Shepard reached the bottom of the stairway and tapped his ear-piece; an electronic shriek of static burst into the Spectre's ear – communications where being jammed. Shepard re-gripped his looted rifle; every single krogan was greatly stronger than a human and their weapons reflected that fact. The recoil from some krogan-built weaponry was capable of breaking the arm of any human or turian; the Spectre was hoping the rifle in his hands was an adjusted export model.

A section of the burning bar lifted slightly and Shepard swiftly brought his weapon to bear, firing a single shot. The recoil drove the Spectre's shoulder back and rose the weapon's barrel alarmingly, but the fired round was on target, exploding, and sending a hail of shrapnel tearing through the inferno. Seemingly in response, the flames grew taller.

"Whoops," Shepard muttered before firing another two rounds into the fire and making his way towards the club's main doors, his rifle trained on the heart of the growing fire every step of the way. As the doors opened behind the Spectre, the android burst out of the burning wreckage of Afterlife's upper bar; the machine's head was now a smooth, featureless, solid black shape but otherwise appeared unharmed. Only the tattered, loose hanging, sleeve material of its form fitting clothing smoked, the rest of its Miranda costume showed no other sign of damage from the fire. The Spectre opened fire, limiting himself to –slow– single shots as he backed down the tunnel that led out of Aria's nightclub. The android's shields flickered under the attacks, deflecting the rounds and shrapnel away, as it started following him.

"Shepard," Miranda's voice called out to the Spectre, "please – listen. We might not have much time."

Almost as an unconscious reflex, Shepard stopped firing as Miranda's voice reached out to him. "You're not her," the Spectre told the machine – and himself.

"I left this message to activate when the Infiltration Unit didn't have a comm-link to Cerberus and when it was alone with you," both man and machine halted, enclosed alone in the tunnel entrance to Afterlife. The black shape of the machines head cracked, separating and flowing into individual strands that re-arranged into a familiar hair style. Miranda's face emerged from the protective cocoon to address Shepard, "I have to only hope that it's before you've returned to the Normandy." The damage from the dead batarian's rifle was clearly evident on the emotionless mask of the android, "Shepard, this…replica has detailed schematics of the Normandy's new lay-out, it's been tasked with disabling EDI's control over several key systems – and it will kill any member of the Alliance crew that attempts to intervene," the machine ignored Shepard's question about himself and Joker and carried on talking. "Once it has seized control of the Normandy, the mech is programmed to rendezvous with a cruiser Cerberus keeps stationed near the Omega IV Relay. It has specific communications protocols and encryption keys to let them know the ship is secured before they take it through the Mass Relay."

The whole situation was starting to unnerve Shepard a little – the machine's flat, unemotional, recreation of Miranda's voice – the location, a tunnel decorated with holographic flames and which separated Afterlife from the rest of Omega. The rifle in his hands was a reassuring weight and the pause in firing was allowing it to radiate away the built up heat.

The android's continued speaking, "Shepard, I know you could get EDI to crack those files and codes – but please, don't. Don't come here because the Council or the Alliance has ordered you to. Please don't think I need rescued or saving. Don't fight your way back to me if you're not willing to help me. We both know how important the data stored on the Collector's station will be when the Reapers arrive. I can't let it be destroyed, you have to know that, you have to realise our survival depends on whatever is hidden here."

The doors behind the Spectre powered up, the sound of the locks retracting clearly audible. As the doors began to split apart the Cerberus machine gave a small twitch and fell to the floor.

"Shepard," Joker's frantic voice came over the re-established communication link, "Commander, please. Come on don't do this to me, not again. Where the hell are you, commander? Are you even receiving this?"

The Spectre tapped his ear-piece, keeping his rifle trained on the prone machine. "Close enough;" Shepard told his friend, "I think the local transla …"

"What the hell, Shepard?" the pilot's voice cut the Spectre off, "There's a pair of Cerberus cruisers shooting up parts of Omega, there's a bunch of transports moving into the docks, and the station's comm.-grid is going crazy. Nobody's able to organise any resistance; it's just like Arcturus. What did you do?"

"It's complicated," Shepard replied as he cautiously approached the motionless Miranda duplicate. "Aria…and then Miri…" Shepard's voice trailed off, the Normandy's former commander wasn't entirely sure what he wanted to say, how he was going to explain Cerberus' deception, and wondered how he was responsible for Cerberus' assault.

"Well tell Aria, the Illusive Man is taking her station. Guess he really wants that couch of hers," Joker's voice sounded strained despite his flippant words. "Give me your location for pick-up and then we can get back to E…" the pilot hesitated, "…the Normandy; back to the ship."

"I'm in Afterlife," Shepard reported as he examined the downed machine, as far as the Spectre could tell Cerberus' replacement was completely powered down. The communication link between Joker and Shepard closed, abruptly, silencing the pilot mid-reply. The Spectre tried toggling his communicator, hoping to re-establish a channel; there was only silence from his ear-piece.

Shepard swore, realising his mistake. Slinging his rifle, the Spectre crouched and lifted the de-activated android across his shoulders. If Cerberus had seized control of Omega's communication infrastructure –like they had during their strike on Arcturus Station– then the most likely explanation for allowing him to communicate with Joker, was to discover the Spectre's location. Shepard hurried towards the open doors; he would have to get as far away from the burning night-club as he could before Cerberus arrived - and hope that he could arrange another rendezvous with Joker later.