21 July 2185, T'Soni Analytics Offices, Nos Astra/Illium

I felt nothing but relief to have Kalliste Renai's markings removed from my face, her coloring removed from my skin. In my office I stripped down, tossed her commando leathers into a waste-bin, and took a lengthy shower in my private refresher. Once I had washed away the dirt, sweat, and lingering sense of Morinth's touch, I felt much better.

Once I had toweled dry, I paused to look at myself in the full-length mirror.

I hardly recognized the asari in the glass. She seemed the right size and shape, she looked as trim and fit as I had forced myself to be . . . but she was much too pale. Her eyes looked huge and sunken in their sockets, and I saw something in them I did not like.

I reached out and touched the smooth glass, as if to touch the face of the asari on the other side.

"You've broken yourself, haven't you?" I whispered. "Played the part of a criminal and a killer too often. It's becoming hard to tell the difference between the mask and your true face."

Feron struggled in the grip of a salarian twice his size. I turned my back on him and fled.

Eclipse tried to seize control of a colony. I lied, cheated, and bluffed my way to their defeat, putting the lives of ordinary citizens at risk in order to win.

An Illium Defense Force starship appeared on the targeting screen. I ordered our weapons to fire.

I entered a nest of pirates, and then I set them at one another's throats so I could escape, leaving their victims undefended.

I stood and watched, and did nothing, as a Matriarch killed her own daughter in cold blood.

I destroyed a mining facility with nuclear fire, and then led its owner to believe her own kin responsible.

An Eclipse sister stood before me, vicious, cruel, and terribly young. I took a pistol and executed her.

I walked blindly into a trap. Two of my people died. One of them was my best friend's bondmate.

I walked into another trap, this time quite deliberately. An asari who loved me almost died.

I tried to mate with an asari, a complete stranger, in a dingy little alley. I wanted to do it.

The images hung in my mind, and yet the asari in the glass seemed utterly unmoved. She only stared back at me with wide eyes, one hand still raised to touch mine.

Odd, how it doesn't show. All I can see is fatigue, and the after-effects of severe injury.

I suppose it's just as well. It's not a mask. This is who I am now: a criminal and a killer, light-years out of my depth. What in the name of the Goddess ever made me think I could oppose the Reapers, with nothing but money and information and political leverage . . . and do it without damning myself?

My hand dropped to my side. In the face in the mirror, I saw a sudden flare of determination.

You can't stop now. Bad enough to damn yourself to save the galaxy, far worse to damn yourself and fail. Now someone arguably even worse than you still stands in your way, sending assassins out after you and your people. Time to end it, once and for all. Even if it means using her own methods against her.

I turned my back on the mirror, dressed, and walked down to the small conference room. I knew that Arin had just swept the room again for Collector-tech listening devices. For the moment, I could treat it as a secure space. More secure than my office.

I sat down, opened a computer console, and went to work. First I tackled the financial aspect of the task. I contacted the Bank of Illium, paid the exorbitant fee to create a numbered escrow account, and then moved fifty million credits. I found myself having to back up and re-key commands, double-checking every step of the way to make sure I hadn't made a foolish error. It would have been easier with Aspasia to help, but she was still at home resting and I didn't want her to know about this for the time being.

Then I verified that I had a secure channel, not compromised by any of the Shadow Broker's monitoring devices, and placed an extranet call.

The call took about ten minutes to go through, and when the connection finally came up, I got only audio. None of this surprised me.

"Please state your business," said a smooth asari-like voice that I guessed belonged to a VI.

"Bank of Illium, account number five-zero-zero-nine-two-one-six-zero-four-seven-nine-five. Code word dematheroskolios."

More waiting. Then another voice came on the line, deeper, with an odd rumble in it, as if it emerged from an alien set of vocal organs. "You have my attention," said the voice calmly. "What is the location and identity of the proposed target?"

"Nos Astra, on Illium," I responded. "The proposed target's name is Nassana Dantius. She is a local corporate executive."

"I see." A long silence followed, broken by the faint sound of fingers on a keyboard. "Yes, I think I understand. Do you have any allegations regarding the proposed target's activities that are not a matter of public record?"

I opened my omni-tool and downloaded a set of files to the console. "My dossier on her is quite extensive. Transmitting now."

"Thank you."

This time the pause went on for a long time. I counted a little over ten minutes before the voice spoke again. At that, I felt impressed at his ability to quickly absorb complex material.

"I see," said the voice at last. Silence, for a few moments. "There is a circumstance of which you should be aware. I am preparing for retirement. In fact, I had not planned to accept any further commissions."

"If you are unwilling to accept . . ."

"I will accept this commission," the voice interrupted. "It is simply that you should not expect to be able to offer me another. I tell you this only because I believe I can guess your identity, and I do not wish to deal with you unfairly. Do you still wish to proceed?"

"I understand," I said calmly. "Thank you. Yes, I wish to proceed."

"Then you will be contacted if I need any further information," said the voice. The channel closed.

I sat there for a moment, considering all the implications, and then I stood to return to my office and begin the day's work. I felt some satisfaction, knowing that Nassana Dantius was a dead asari walking.

I made it through the morning staff meeting. I made it through over an hour of conference calls. I began to think that I might make it through the entire day. Then an old acquaintance called.

It came over an odd channel, not from our usual extranet service providers. When I accepted the call, a triple-wide window appeared over my desk. I saw an outdoor scene on some distant planet – green and blue vegetation, blue sky with sun overhead, a paved floor, symmetrically arranged columns, no roof. I immediately recognized the context: a Prothean site, rather like the one I had discovered on Eletania.

In the midst of the site stood a squad of human soldiers, Alliance Marines in medium to heavy armor, armed and apparently ready for combat. Their leader was one of the biggest male humans I had ever seen, so massively broad-shouldered that he would have made Shepard look frail in comparison.

With them stood a single asari: Treeya Nuwani.

Treeya had been one of my students, and I served as one of her academic advisors, in the years when I worked as a resident professor at the University of Serrice. I remembered her showing promise as an archaeologist, although she eventually took her doctorate in xenopsychology and non-asari cultural studies. We had barely spoken in almost a decade, so I had to wonder what led her to call.

"Dr. Nuwani," I greeted her. "It's good to see you."

The young scientist smiled at me. "You as well, Dr. T'Soni. I have found an unknown object in the Prothean ruins on Fehl Prime, and wanted to get your input."

A window appeared next to Treeya's image: a picture of an unfamiliar object, and a waterfall of sensor data. I leaned forward and examined her results closely. "Hmm. Well, it's not Prothean, I can tell you that. In fact, it doesn't match anything I've ever seen."

Treeya nodded. "Based on the cursory inspection I've given it so far, these are some very advanced bio-mechanics."

"This could be Reaper technology," I suggested. "You are familiar with the Reaper hypothesis?"

"I'm not familiar with it," said the burly Marine officer.

Goddess, has the Alliance done nothing to get the word out to its people?

"The Reapers are a race of sentient starships that have marked all other intelligent life for destruction," I explained. "The ship that attacked the Citadel two years ago – Sovereign – was one of them."

The Marine turned to Treeya. "Don't tell me you believe that."

Treeya shook her head skeptically. "With all due respect, Doctor, the Council found that ship to be nothing more than a dreadnought, piloted by the geth and a rogue Spectre."

I leaned close, willing her to understand, to believe. "I was there, Treeya. I saw it, and heard it speak. The Reapers destroyed the Prothean civilization fifty thousand years ago, and now they are planning to return. The Council may have willfully blinded themselves to the truth, but you and I are scientists. We need to keep our eyes open."

"What evidence do you have?" demanded Treeya . . . but suddenly her image began to break up.

A thought occurred to me, something she had said a moment before that I had missed at the time. "Dr. Nuwani? Where did you say you found this artifact?"

The image was decaying by the moment, and the audio was filled with chop. I could barely make out part of her response: ". . . Fehl Prime . . ."

Fehl Prime. Right off Tana's target list.

I abruptly stood behind my desk, leaning close and shouting into the pickup. "Treeya, you and the humans must get clear. Fehl Prime may be under attack!"

Nothing but static.

"Treeya!" I slapped the intercom key. "Vara! Who do we have on Fehl Prime?"

"One moment . . . Operative Mendez has been stationed there ever since we became aware of the Collector attacks." Her voice went suddenly tense with concern. "Despoina? What's wrong?"

"Get a signal to Operative Mendez, right now. I fear the Collectors are about to hit Fehl Prime."

"Yes, despoina, immediately."

I sat down again, ignoring the way my legs had gone watery and my hands shook. I punched in the code for Councilor Anderson's office on the Citadel.

It took two minutes, then three. "Come on, come on . . ."

A very young Alliance officer appeared on the screen. "Councilor Anderson's office."

"This is Dr. Liara T'Soni on Illium. Recognition code seven-nine-three-alpha, crash priority."

Something in the female human's face made me suspect that I looked less than perfectly sane. "I'm sorry, Doctor, but the Council is in closed session. May I take a message?"

"I repeat, recognition code seven-nine-three-alpha, crash priority."

"All due respect, ma'am, I won't interrupt the Councilor just because you say so."

"What is your name?" I asked, very coldly and clearly.

Her face hardened. "Lieutenant Jeanne Kwan, Alliance Navy."

"Well, Lieutenant Jeanne Kwan, if you do not immediately inform Councilor Anderson that the colony world of Fehl Prime may at this moment be under attack by the Collectors, and tell him where you got this information, I will see you broken."

She cut the connection.

I sat there, staring at the blank screen, for perhaps five seconds.

Then another comm line opened up with a small chirp. Vara's voice. "Despoina . . . I'm sorry. I can't get a connection through to Fehl Prime or Operative Mendez. Arin's trying too, but he has no bandwidth to the colony."

I rose to my feet and screamed.

"Despoina?"

A two-fisted blow, ablaze with dark energy, shattered my desk into a dozen pieces. I picked up the largest shard and flung it across the room to crash into the opposite wall. A telekinetic wave sent my couch and side table spinning through the air. "Damn them! Damn the Council, damn the Alliance, damn the Shadow Broker, damn Cerberus, damn the Collectors, damn the Reapers, Goddess damn them all to the abyss!"

Then, quite suddenly, the world faded out and I saw nothing but darkness.

21 July 2185, Nos Astra/Illium

Pale light shone through my closed eyelids, and I heard the sound of water.

I lay on my back in a soft bed. I dimly sensed that I was nude, but a light cover had been spread over me, and my head rested on soft pillows. It felt so quiet and peaceful, I wanted to lie there forever. The minor mystery of how I had gotten there was not interesting enough to hold my attention. Then I remembered those last moments in my office. Despite myself, I moaned quietly.

"Despoina?"

I opened my eyes. I was in my own apartment, in my own bed, up in the loft with the light from the fish-tank shining down on me. Vara was a few meters away, setting aside a book and rising from a chair, watching me with a guarded expression.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"Strange," I said. My throat was desert-dry. I coughed to clear it. "What is the time?"

"Half past eighteen. You've been out for almost eight hours."

"Since I'm not in a hospital, I assume my condition isn't too grave."

She sat down on the edge of the bed, capturing my left hand and pressing her fingertips to the pulse point. "That would be a poor assumption. Aspasia and I decided to bring you here because we didn't trust security at the hospital."

"Aspasia?"

"I consulted with her. She authorized me to act as head of the firm while you are both on leave."

I closed my eyes again. "Good. I concur."

"Despoina . . . Liara. There's something we need to discuss."

I took a deep breath, somehow knowing that I wouldn't like the subject. "Go ahead."

"We did take you to be examined at the hospital. The physician wanted us to put you in intensive care."

I made a small chuckle and opened my eyes again. "That bad?"

"That bad." She shook her head in dismay. "Maybe it was the fight with that beast last night, maybe it was an aftereffect of your injuries on Ferris Fields, more likely it was both. Your internal bleeding had started again, you showed signs of a serious infection, and you were in a state of severe neural shock. The physician seemed surprised that you managed to stay on your feet as long as you did."

"I don't have time to play the invalid."

"You utter fool," she said, for an instant livid with rage.

I stared at her.

"You are not playing the part of an invalid, Liara T'Soni, you are an invalid. Get out of that bed, get back into the kind of activity you have been engaging in for the last few days, and you are quite likely to drop stone dead. You need several days of antibiotics, quick-heal, medication to reinforce your nervous system, healthy food, and rest. Rest meaning plenty of sleep, possibly some light entertainment, and absolutely no work."

I blinked in surprise. "Vara, do you know that you would make a superb parent?"

"Do not even go there with me, Liara." But she smiled slightly as she said it.

For a moment, I seriously considered refusing her help . . . but I could see she was adamant, and an angry Vara was not something I felt strong enough to confront just then. "All right. How long did the physician say I needed to rest?"

"Seven days," she said at once, but I could tell she shaded the truth.

"Three days," I told her.

"I will strap you into this bed with my bare hands," she threatened. "Five days."

"Four days, and I want you to come here every evening and give me an executive summary of the day's events."

"Done. I plan to spend my nights here anyway, just to make sure you stay out of trouble."

I closed my eyes again and took a deep breath, suddenly very aware of her physical presence close to me. "I'm not certain that's a good idea."

"Don't be absurd," she snapped, angry once again. "The last thing you need right now is to be carrying on a liaison with anyone. Not to mention that it would tarnish my honor to take such advantage of you. I can sleep on the couch downstairs."

"I'm sorry, Vara." I solemnly looked up at her face. "I would be happy to have you here. I must admit, I think I will need the help."

She nodded firmly. "Good. You're finally seeing sense."

"We'll see if you still feel that way the first time you have to help me to the refresher."

Vara rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I do have some good news for you."

Something in her voice made me shift over onto my side, rise up on one elbow, and watch her closely. "What is it?"

"Today we got reports from some of our informants on Omega. They say a starship has been sighted in the docks there. Normandy."

That got my undivided attention. "How is that possible? I was there when the Collectors destroyed Normandy. I examined the wreckage on Alchera. There must be some mistake."

"That's what I thought as well. I queried back to get verification. Apparently this is not the same ship you traveled on with Commander Shepard. It's of a similar class and has a similar structure . . . but this ship is significantly larger, it's pinging Terminus Systems rather than Alliance registry, and it's painted with Cerberus colors."

"Goddess." I felt a wild smile spread across my face as I thought through the implications. "Cerberus built a new Normandy. Three guesses who they selected to command her."

Vara smiled as well, the expression somewhat conflicted but still genuine. "Yes. He has been seen, Liara, on Omega. Conferring with Aria T'Loak. Recruiting specialists for his team. Buying advanced technology in the markets. Rumors are spreading across the Terminus Systems and beyond, spreading like wildfire, that Commander Shepard is alive."

"He's going after the Collectors. It can't be anything else." I reached out and gripped her shoulder gently. "Vara, we have to contact him. I don't know why Cerberus has shut me out, but we have to break through to them. Whatever they've been in the past, whatever they may be in the future, if they're opposing the Collectors right now, then we must strike some kind of agreement with them."

She nodded reluctantly. "We don't have a lot of choice for allies at the moment. Much as it revolts me to be working with this one."

"Good, I'm glad you agree. Here's what I want you to do, then, while Aspasia and I are away from the office . . ."