Author's Note: This chapter has been updated as of 4/11/12 to reflect the events of one of the Mass Effect comics. If you are unfamiliar with this, fear not: it will not affect your reading experience here. :)

14 – Pray for the Wicked

Miranda

It made sense, of course. Thane Krios was an assassin, one of the most skilled to be found anywhere. Finding him would be nigh impossible without knowing where to look, and Nassana Dantius' penthouse was the one place they could be sure of meeting him. It made sense, yes, but she didn't have to like it. Going on a mission to interrupt one of the galaxy's most dangerous killers in the middle of a job seemed to Miranda like a very good way to get killed, and not being a part of the team herself, she couldn't help feeling nervous for Shepard and the others. She trusted him, but she didn't like not being there, didn't like having this uncomfortable feeling that the situation was out of her control. An impractical notion, perhaps, considering how little control she'd actually been able to exercise over Shepard since the formation of the Lazarus Cell, but knowing him, knowing his tendencies, it was impossible not to feel a bit anxious. Especially considering the team he had taken with him.

Garrus, Jack, and Zaeed… If I didn't know better, I'd say he left the most reasonable of us behind on purpose, she mused irritably, impatiently re-crossing her legs for perhaps the fifth time since taking a seat in the lobby. Liara T'Soni had practically dropped everything to meet with Shepard, but apparently Miranda Lawson did not warrant such urgency. No, that was a little unkind, and probably untrue. Liara had been very kind and accommodating, willing to do almost anything for them.

And we've really only been here ten minutes, she reminded herself. Patience had never been one of her strong suits, even less so in stressful situations. Jacob and Kasumi seemed to be having an easier time of it.

"It's part of being military," Jacob was saying. "Once you live that life, it becomes a part of you. At least, it did for me." He paused, tilting his head curiously. "Are you hitting on me?"

Kasumi smiled up at him demurely. The two of them were seated on a bench across the room from Miranda. Sitting rather closely together, Miranda observed.

"Am I that bad, that you have to come right out and ask me?" Kasumi lamented, crossing her arms in mock frustration.

"No," Jacob grinned. "I'm just surprised, that's all."

"Why? Surprised I haven't gone after our Commander? Maybe I would have, but something tells me he's been taken off the table." She glanced at Miranda briefly, offering her a conspiratorial smile that she did not return. For her part, Miranda was suddenly very interested in the floral arrangement on the small end table to her right. It wasn't difficult to feign indifference; the lobby was worthy of note, very plush and elaborately furnished in a decadent asari style. Besides, Kasumi was irritatingly perceptive sometimes, and Miranda had no wish to be drawn into this sort of conversation, especially with Jacob present.

There had been something, once, between Jacob and herself. Well, more the beginning of a relationship than one in earnest, a hint of closeness that had ended almost as quickly as it began. It was human nature, being drawn to a member of the opposite sex in the midst of a dangerous or extreme situation, and that episode of bioterrorism had easily met both criteria.

Jacob doesn't know what he wants. I'm certainly not it, she reflected. Normally she wasn't much taken with such things, but the flowers were lovely. Like oversized sunflowers, with long, wispy petals in radiant reds, blues, and greens, they were almost fireworks in still-life. Beautiful things. And very alien; certainly Earth had never seen their like.

What's happening to me? she thought with an odd mixture of consternation and amusement. Here she was, on the most critical mission of her entire career, one with dire ramifications not only for humanity but for the entire galaxy, and she sat about idly considering relationships and pretty flowers.

Maybe I have changed, she considered. Jacob had been turned off by her severity, in part, but also by her extreme dedication. Where was that dedication now? Certainly not gone. But with Jacob, things had always been somewhat tense, whereas Shepard just had this way about him…

Maybe if your mind weren't so full of him all the time.

She suppressed a grin, whimsically entertaining an image of herself on hands and knees, pleading with the Illusive Man. Reassign me! Please! Send me anywhere! Get me away from Shepard, he's taking over my life! Maybe he would even agree; it was doubtful that the Illusive Man would approve of the rapidly-escalating romantic entanglement between his top lieutenant and his single greatest investment, a man who also seemed determined to subvert his interests at every turn. But they weren't so different, really, Shepard and her boss. Were they?

Shepard certainly 'drew the line' in a different place, so to speak. The ends justified the means far less often under Julian Shepard's command, but he wasn't nearly as naïve or foolishly idealistic as Miranda had initially believed. He was capable of making hard decisions. But he lacked the quintessential Cerberus mentality, that 'us against the galaxy' mindset that separated Cerberus' best operatives from the rank and file. In a way, Shepard was like Yeoman Chambers: he loved everyone. His two best friends were aliens, a turian and a quarian. Perhaps he didn't share the Illusive Man's human-centric agenda, but Shepard was no less an advocate for the human race. He was an advocate for the entire galaxy, for every race that the Reapers threatened. He just… did his job. And in his way, he was charismatic.

And charming, and funny, and sexy, blah blah blah, get over yourself. You have a job to do, she thought, a bit chagrined. Her emotions made quite the tangle this evening, a tight bundle of anxiety and fear enmeshed with excitement and exhilaration, all topped off with a dash of whimsical, self-indulgent daydreaming. Perhaps a weaker woman would have been in a panic, but Miranda thrived on thrills. It was just another day at the office, in a sense. Well, aside from the added distraction of this extracurricular relationship she'd managed to get herself into.

Maybe I really should ask to be reassigned.

"Ms. Lawson? Liara is ready for you now."

Liara's assistant, Nyxeris, had a low, velvety voice that made even her most innocuous statements sound suggestive. Likely, it was by design – Dr. Liara T'Soni had become an information broker on Illium, a profession about as deep in intrigue and subterfuge as Miranda could imagine.

Everybody has an angle. What's hers, I wonder? An extension of Liara's, or one of her own?

Jacob and Kasumi followed her into Liara's office. It wasn't particularly large, but it was brightly lit by the late-afternoon light, with large windows overlooking the bustling market plaza below. The furnishings were at once bold and simplistic, very chic and empowering. She internally bumped her opinion of Liara up a notch; it was easy to see how she'd done well for herself here. Anyone who met with Liara here most assuredly did so on her terms.

Liara looked up from her work as her office door opened to admit them. She met Miranda's gaze, but did not smile.

"Ms. Lawson," Liara offered politely. "It is good to see you again."

"And you, Dr. T'Soni," Miranda replied.

"Please, call me Liara. Mr. Taylor, Ms. Goto," Liara continued. "Thank you for coming. I apologize for the necessity of this visit, but Shepard indicated to me that this information would be extremely valuable to your cause, and procuring it has required more time than I would have anticipated. Again, I apologize. There have been… distractions."

"That's unsurprising," said Kasumi. "This is Illium, after all."

Liara smiled knowingly. "Yes. This is Illium. But to the point; I will not keep you long. I have managed to learn that the Justicar Samara is registered with Tracking Officer Dara. She works with the law enforcement department here on Nos Astra; you should be able to find her in the transportation hub, not far from here."

"Tracking officer?" Jacob asked, curious.

"A standard practice," said Liara. "The Justicar's presence in Nos Astra has caused a great deal of anxiety within the police force. The tracking officer's responsibility is to keep track of Samara's movements in the interest of preventing – or, in the worst case, containing – an inter-species incident."

"So they keep tabs on her like she's a criminal," Jacob mused. "Guess they don't want her deciding some turian needs to die and causing friction with the Hierarchy."

"That is it precisely, Mr. Taylor," Liara smiled at him graciously. "I do not know how much you know about them, but it is quite rare for a Justicar to venture outside of asari space. I cannot guess her reasons for coming here, but I suspect the authorities are quite eager for her to be elsewhere. Justicars are held in reverence by my people, but their methods can be unforgiving, and we cannot expect other species to respect their authority."

Sounds like we'll at least have the support of the local law enforcement. Anything to get her off world.

"Thank you for the help, Liara," said Miranda. "I'm sure Shepard will want to see you again before we leave, assuming all goes well."

"I hope so," Liara agreed. "On both counts."

I'd have thought he would have radioed by now. Surely they're on the way?

On the way to the Dantius Towers; into the heart of the storm. Four soldiers, armed only with firearms, kinetic barriers, and a lion's share of guts and determination. How would Shepard decide to tackle this particular dilemma? 'Break down the front door,' in all likelihood. Hopefully Garrus would veto anything too ridiculous.

You'd better not get yourself killed, you bloody idiot. Be careful, for once in your life.

"I'll try to get Garrus on the radio," said Jacob. "See if they're set. There might be something we can do to help out."

"Right behind you," Kasumi chirped.

"I had heard of Kasumi Goto," said Liara, as the door closed behind them. "I actually thought Cerberus had a bounty on her, at one time or another."

"Strange times make for strange bedfellows," Miranda replied. The inevitable connection that interesting choice of words led to in her mind nearly made her blush. Thankfully, the asari didn't notice.

Liara had begun pacing, slowly walking the same stretch of floor between her desk and the window. She stopped now, however, meeting Miranda's eyes with an earnest gaze.

"How is he?"

"No doubt the same as you remember," Miranda replied. "You did the right thing."

Liara frowned and looked away. She had become better at guarding her emotions than Miranda recalled, but the young asari would never be an expert in that regard. In Liara's case, though, perhaps passion could be counted as a strength rather than a liability. Without that passion, Julian Shepard would likely have fallen into Collector hands.

Miranda and Liara had met before, several times, after the first Normandy was destroyed. Liara, with Miranda's help, had managed to recover Shepard's body from the Shadow Broker, who had made a deal with the Collectors. Miranda's impression of her then had pegged Liara as a tough woman, perhaps a touch too emotional, but capable and driven. Her time on Illium had obviously hardened her to a degree – her success in such a dangerous trade on such a cutthroat world spoke to that, not to mention the relative coolness of her demeanor. She looked older now, since Miranda had last seen her.

"He seems to believe that the Illusive Man's concerns are genuine," said Liara.

"Shepard doesn't trust anyone in Cerberus."

"You didn't tell him that I was the one who..."

She trailed off. It was obvious what she meant.

"No," Miranda said gently.

The asari favored her with a slight smile. "You've changed, Ms. Lawson."

"So have you," Miranda replied.

There was something different in their relationship now, and the meaning behind it had escaped Miranda until this moment – they shared something now. Shepard had transformed from an object she'd been tasked to retrieve for her boss into...

The object of your affection?

I'm still Cerberus.

True, but you have changed. Even Liara can see it.

"Take care of him, Ms. Lawson."

She met Liara's eyes. Maybe she and the asari had more in common than she'd realized.

Miranda smiled wryly. "He's crazy. Someone has to."

Shepard

"Get the fuck off me, Zaeed," Jack snapped.

"Piss off," Zaeed replied distractedly. His rifle was in three pieces on his lap; for some reason, he'd decided the back seat of the shuttle was the best place to try and clean it, and his roaming elbows were fast becoming a source of controversy. Garrus was pressed into the opposite corner, warily watching the two of them as if observing wild and dangerous animals in their natural habitat.

"Touch me one more time and you'll be pissing through a tube," Jack snarled.

Zaeed responded to this threat by deliberately planting an elbow squarely into her right breast. Alarmed, Shepard nearly leapt into the back to try and force himself between them, but shockingly, there was no need. Jack swatted the stock of Zaeed's rifle from his lap and attempted to land a punch between his legs, but by this time both of them were sniggering.

Garrus relaxed, if only slightly. Shepard didn't blame him; if Zaeed could manage to be fully at ease in Jack's company, he was the only one.

"If you two don't settle down, we might crash," said Seryna. "I thought you said these were trained soldiers, Shepard?"

"They are," Shepard replied. "Trained soldiers."

"Behaving like adults is another matter entirely," said Garrus.

"Fuck you," said Jack. Zaeed went back to his rifle maintenance.

It felt a little strange, riding in a civilian vehicle in full battle regalia. This whole mission felt strange, for that matter. Recruiting an assassin in the middle of a job was probably a little unorthodox. How receptive would he even be to Shepard's offer? From Seryna's description, Thane Krios was a likable man, but that in itself meant little. Saren Arterius had been charismatic, too.

"So I have your word, right?"

He glanced over at Seryna questioningly.

"You're here to help him. Not to kill him."

"I did tell you," Shepard reiterated. "I'm just here to make sure he survives."

The asari nodded. "So you said. I just like Thane, is all."

"And Nassana?"

"She's an evil bitch who deserves every bit of what's coming to her," Seryna answered. With emphasis.

Shepard had met Nassana Dantius on the Citadel. She'd tried to coerce him into doing some work for her, though he had graciously declined. As if they hadn't had enough going on.

Apparently she hasn't made many friends.

Jacob had expressed trepidation toward working with an assassin, and Shepard could empathize with his position, to a certain extent. Thane's job was to take lives, but they were all killers. No way to get around it. Shepard had taken countless lives in his career as a soldier, as a Spectre; he was a natural soldier. Fighting was his calling, but he had never really been at peace with killing other people, no matter the circumstances.

He had a recurring nightmare, a dream that frequently invaded his consciousness, sometimes even pressing into his waking life. In the dream, he stood before a massive mirror, looking into the eyes of his reflection. At first, his was the only image in the glass, but gradually others would appear, the shapes of all the men and women he had killed. Ethereal and incorporeal, they would gather around his image, touching it, caressing it, beckoning him… waiting for him. The images existed only in the mirror; he always knew that, and he wanted nothing more than to turn and run, to get away, but there was no going back. The only direction was forward, until one day, inevitably, he would pass through the glass. Into the mirror; into whatever lay beyond.

Julian Shepard was a natural-born killer, but he was not, had never been, at peace with his gift. Maybe Thane wasn't, either. Seryna had mentioned something about the assassin's desire to 'restore the balance of his life.' Guilty conscience, maybe? It didn't matter; Shepard wasn't in the business of judging people. His own moral foundation was a little shaky, in all honesty. He knew what felt right to him and what felt wrong, but in his experience there was never a clear-cut answer to any moral dilemma. After he'd lost his family, he'd been raised by committee in a military school, and the most important thing he'd learned there was the importance of thinking for himself. Everybody had their own morals, their own ideas of how to solve the galaxy's problems, most with at least some basis in logic and reality, but Shepard resented the instructors' constant efforts to mold him, to shape him into their visions of an effective soldier and human being. He'd often struggled against cynicism as a teenager; after all, of what significance is one orphan trainee marine in this vast sea of life, human and otherwise? Why even be a soldier at all? What's the point in caring about anyone but yourself?

In the end, it was still hard to explain how or why, but he did care. Enough to keep going, anyway. He possessed an affinity for battle, a near-addiction to adrenaline, that sustained him in addition to his belief in the worthiness of his goal. The Collector problem, and by extension the Reaper threat… those were real, and they were his responsibility. And if Thane Krios could offer help, Shepard would accept it gladly.

Assuming we can get to him without being torn apart by Nassana's guards. And assuming Thane doesn't decide to shoot us, himself.

Illium really was beautiful. Mordin had the right of it: the buildings looked like giant, radiant insect hives, buzzing with the hidden schemes and machinations of all the powerful asari queens of Nos Astra high society.

Liara's down there now, he thought, grinning to himself. Liara T'Soni, now one of those mighty monarchs in her own right. Liara had always been both smart and tough, but picturing her as a smooth and savvy information broker wasn't easy, even after going to see her. Wheeling and dealing with Illium's high and mighty seemed a far cry from studying ancient Prothean technology on remote worlds, but she'd apparently done quite well for herself. She did seem a little distracted, but seeing her had been… nice. It was good to know that she was okay.

Is she? In a place like this?

Miranda would be with her, now… and he forced himself to derail that train of thought immediately. The last thing he needed right now was to start thinking about Miranda Lawson. Enough daydreaming for one mission.

"Shepard?" said Jacob's voice, right on cue.

"Go ahead."

"We've got a lead on the Justicar. Heading over to the transport hub to check it out. Everything good on your end?"

Through the shuttle's tinted windshield, the Dantius Towers loomed just ahead.

"We're about to touch down. No trouble yet, but there will be soon. We'll keep you posted."

"Same here. Be careful, Commander. Jacob out."

"Hold on," said Seryna, beginning their descent. "This could be a bit bumpy."

Thane

He looked into her eyes as he pulled the trigger. He always did, when he could. The finality of that muted bang, the look of terrified disbelief that so often colored his targets' last moments… it was bittersweet. And horrible. She gasped, moaned, trembled in his arms. Then, she lay still.

There was beauty in death; he had always thought it so. A terrible sublimity, like the cold bite of a sharp blade. An aching, empty sort of beauty, like a grieving lover's anguished lament.

Thane took a deep breath and bowed his head, folding his hands before him in prayer.

Shepherd this troubled soul, goddess, and guide me on my path. Smile kindly on this sinful soul, goddess, and enfold me in your sheltering embrace.

Await this vagrant soul, goddess, for soon I shall join you in the deep.

Soon, I shall seek the comfort of your halls.

"He can certainly make an entrance," quipped a sharp voice in a flanging turian accent.

"Thane Krios?"

He recognized the owner of the voice. A male human, clad in midnight-black armor adorned with stripes and patches of dark green, spattered liberally with blood. The leader. There were three others with him, a turian and two more humans, one female. An odd bunch, but very effective. He had monitored their progress with curiosity.

"I apologize. But prayers for the wicked must not be forsaken."

"Do you really think she deserves it?" asked the turian.

"Not for her," he explained calmly. "For me."

Thane opened his eyes. He clasped his hands behind his back and straightened his back, regarding the group impassively.

"The measure of an individual can be difficult to discern from actions alone. Take you, for instance. All this destruction; chaos…"

He took a pair of measured steps toward them. The female human trained her shotgun on him, but he ignored her.

"I was curious to see how far you'd go to find me," he concluded. "Well… here I am."

"I suppose we served as a valuable distraction," said the leader.

"Indeed," Thane almost sighed. Had it been too much to hope for death in battle? It was almost comical. He had gone to great lengths to stoke Nassana's paranoia, deviating markedly from his standard method of operation, heedless of the risk of being detected, only to have a squad of elite commandos appear on the scene, slaughtering every mercenary unfortunate enough to cross their path. Reaching Nassana in that environment had been a job fit for a child. His life had never been in any real danger. Were he a man with less governance of himself, he would have been angry. As it was, he felt simply… resigned.

"I'm Julian Shepard," said the leader. "This is Garrus Vakarian, Zaeed Massani… and Jack."

Shepard… He had heard the name. The hero of the Citadel, by most accounts. A living legend; myth made flesh. Rumor had killed Shepard a thousand times over, yet here he stood, very much alive.

Seeking something of me.

"And what is it that you wish of me, Shepard?"

"Are you familiar with the Collectors?" Shepard asked.

"By reputation," he answered. He turned to face the windows; the sun was pleasantly warm on his skin, a bright orange globe resting heavily on the horizon.

Shepard continued. "For some reason, they've started conducting abductions of human colonies on a massive scale. Hundreds of thousands of people have been taken."

"I see," he replied noncommittally. The Collectors, a mysterious people lurking beyond an unmapped relay. Abductions? What use could they possibly have for a hundred thousand samples of the human genome?

Alive, no less? Strange.

"Cerberus is funding a mission to investigate and stop the abductions. I'm forming a team, and we're going after them. That's the long and short of it. I could make great use of your skills."

"Attacking the Collectors would require passing through the Omega-4 relay," Thane replied, turning to meet Shepard's eyes. His gaze was unfaltering; resolute. Humans had always intrigued him, their facial expressions in particular. Reading a human's face had at first seemed much easier than attempting the same with a fellow drell – human faces, at a glance, looked much more open and were undoubtedly much more expressive. But he had been wrong in his assessments enough times to have realized that even the most animated faces concealed many mysteries; in that sense, drell and humans were much alike.

"No ship has ever returned from doing so."

"That's true," Shepard agreed.

So we are alike in this, as well, Thane mused. Or similar, at the least. Shepard and his crew did not fear death, that much was evident, but perhaps they did not actively court it, as he did.

"This was to be my last job," Thane sighed, turning back to the horizon. Quite the view. "I'm dying. Low survival odds do not concern me. The abduction of your colonists does."

Perhaps there is a reason for all of this, he thought. A much more comforting thought than believing this whole episode to be a bizarre coincidence. What was Nassana's empire next to the abduction of an entire colony? Multiple colonies?

"I hadn't heard that," Shepard said. "You're sick? Is there anything I can do?"

"Giving me this opportunity is enough," he responded. It was a worthy mission, an admirable goal. "The universe is a dark place. I'm trying to make it brighter before I die."

He broke his gaze away from the windows, turning to face his strange new companions. The other three still watched him warily, but Shepard seemed relatively at ease. His expression seemed… understanding? Empathic? Perhaps.

"Many innocents died today," Thane continued, almost to himself. "I was not fast enough, and they suffered. I must atone for that."

For their deaths, and for many others.

"Quite a few salarians survived," said Garrus, the turian. He wore a sniper's targeting visor over his left eye. "The workers, I mean."

Thane nodded absently. A very unexpected turn of events. He had fully expected to be killed tonight, but then, passing through the Omega-4 relay would be as likely to bring about his end. Working with a group would be interesting, as well. He had no comparable experiences at all.

Perhaps it's fate… maybe this is meant to be.

Shepard extended a hand. Thane shook it.

"I will work for you, Shepard. No charge."

Author's Notes: I apologize both for the long wait for this chapter and for the extended use of in-game dialogue. For the former, I would say that the next chapter is unlikely to take so long. I'm working on my other story, "Ghost," alternately with this one, but that long layoff is an anomaly, I promise.

For the latter, it seems inevitable for first meetings; I didn't want to completely blow up the original scene, but I thought it was interesting to get something of Thane's perspective on things. I want to keep things mostly original, though, as I find that both more fun to write and more fun to read.

As always, let me know what you think! I'm happy to hear from everyone who's reading, and I fervently appreciate your interest. =)