Notice: Over the next few weeks I'll be posting the chapters from the sequel here to fold everything into a single story.

An apology in advance for all the email warnings you're going to get. Apparently there's no way to have this done quietly.

Illium

Nyxeris tapped a button on her tablet computer. "Doctor T'Soni, you have a visitor."

Liara did not answer for a few moments. She was in the bathtub, the hot water making her feel comfortably weightless. Her mind had been adrift for the past hour, seeking the solace of emptiness, and being roused back into the real world was not pleasant.

But then, she did not get guests all that often, Ziegler's recent visit notwithstanding. But that visit had been arranged beforehand, and having a guest come unannounced was totally unexpected.

"Who is it, Nyxeris?"

"A female turian. She said she's Garrus Vakarian's sister."

A very slight frown appeared on her brow as she queried her memory. To her knowledge, Garrus had a living father, a gruff Hierarchy officer by the name of Castis, and a sister he was not on good terms with, Solana. She had never contacted or messaged either, nor had any kind of relationship with them.

For them to know who their relative worked with was one thing, but tracking her down and coming in personally was a whole other kind of deal.

"Let her in and offer her some refreshments. I'll be there in a while."

"Yes, doctor."

Liara closed her eyes and her mind again gave itself to the all-consuming embrace of the piping-hot water. There was emptiness and blackness again for a few moments, until the opening notes of some music reached her, muffled by the wall. For an instant, she was vaguely surprised she could hear it in the first place—

—but no, how could it be? The whole flat was soundproofed — unless it was not and she had been scammed by a sleazy contractor, never an endangered species…

…then again, she was not familiar with the music, the style noisy and discordant, and something she would never listen to on her own. It still seemed to be coming from the living room…

The door slid open, and the loud blaring of the music flooded the bathroom, almost concealing the tinkling noises coming from the other side of the curtain, like a canister bouncing on the floor—

Without thinking she squeezed her eyes closed, cupped her ears, and sank deeper in the tub to shield herself — one and a half scant seconds before the flashbang grenade went off. The blast broke every glass on her flat, but being inside the tub shielded her from the worst of it — if not for that inkling she would be stunned and probably knocked out unconscious.

What… what is going on…?

By reflex, she remained motionless, except to slightly uncup her ears and open her eyes. Other than the loud electronic music, there were the crackling noises and flashes of flying sparks —the grenade had wrecked the lights, of course— but other than that she could not hear or see anything, half-concealed as she was by the semi-opaque curtain.

Then, with unreal clarity, even if the all-out blaring music should have prevented it, she picked up a new noise. Footsteps. Someone was coming into the bathroom.

To finish the job.

The flash of biotics would give her away. She could not use them. But the attacker had to know she was in there, so there was no point in hiding.

It had been months since she had last exercised her biotic skills properly, and now she cursed herself for letting herself go like that — so it was an unexpected but welcome development when her talents responded eagerly. Her balled fist now became charged with enough energy to punch through a concrete wall. Further footsteps rang on the other side of the curtain, and a mechanical noise — the attacker about to shoot—

—but Liara acted first. Water blew into the air as if another bomb had gone off inside the tub as she stood up and tore through the curtains, seeking the noise by instinct—

—her punch connecting, knocking the assailant out of the bathroom. Something clattered on the floor, and her fingers closed around the grip. A pistol. A light weapon, heavy on the front. She brought it up and aimed without thinking—

—but her assailant dove and rolled out of the way, none of her first shots connecting. She rushed to the doorway and looked around, but probably her attacker was hiding behind the large couch—

—and from behind the large couch, another flashbang was tossed.

Her first impulse was to try to throw it right back at the assassin using biotics, but instead, the pistol clacked twice and the device blew in a shower of sparks and shrapnel. Without pause, the gun turned towards the couch and six rounds pierced through it. There was a scream cut short by another impact, which Liara took as a sign to run towards the couch and vault over it.

It had all happened too fast. The attacker had known the couch would only conceal her but not shield her against bullets — the reason for which she was almost hugging the floor — but that had not protected her. Half the rounds had struck her on the chest, one punching a hole through and leaving a bloody impact on a wall. The turian coughed as bluish froth appeared on her mouth.

The young asari dropped to her knees. "I'm… I'm sorry… Nyxeris? Get… get the first aid kit!" she called out. Nobody answered, and only then did she notice the loud music was still blaring all out in her living room. "Stop the music!" she yelled. The VI complied at once, and the only sound that was left was the ragging breaths of her attacker struggling to breathe.

The quart of adrenaline that had been pumped into her bloodstream faded away as quickly as it had flooded her. Nausea swept over her, then she bent over and threw up explosively. She coughed a few times, struggling to regain control of herself—

—then by the corner of the eye, she spotted the gleam of metal and barely had the energy to scamper out of the way—

"GODDESS—!"

—but not quite. The blade that would have stabbed her in the temple cut a deep gash on her left thigh instead.

Briefly, she saw red. "GODDESS TAKE YOU!" Another biotic punch and this time the turian's head turned to mush.

She stood up ungainly. "Nyx… Nyxeris?" she called out again. She was gone. She painstakingly limped towards the reception, only to find it empty. The entrance door to her flat was open.

She was still too shocked and dizzy to make a detailed examination, but the same part of her that had taken over and seen her through those horrifying four minutes had already reached a conclusion. Nyxeris had been an accomplice for this attack.

Who… who attacked me? And why?

She grimaced and limped back to her bedroom, where she had secreted an emergency medkit with some leftover supplies from her Compact days: a few nanite shots and doses of Alliance medigel. She put the sidearm down to open the kit, and as she glanced at the black suppressed pistol the vertigo of the experience flashed again through her mind in an instant.

And the next thought that crossed her mind was: This is… this was not me.

This is what Shepard would have done.

Omega

"Hi, dad."

The holographically rendered face frowned. "When I spoke about getting reacquainted this is not what I had in mind."

Garrus Vakarian laughed quietly to himself. "Me neither. Funny how things turn out."

Castis looked into his son's eyes from the other side of the galaxy. "You had us all worried. Your sister was screaming to an officer just yesterday because of you."

The younger turian arched his eyebrows. "Solana did that?"

"Yes, because I told her I couldn't find you."

A long sigh. "Has it occurred to you that maybe I didn't want to be found?"

"And what purpose would that serve?" Castis' eyes bore into his son's. "All these years and still I have to hammer that point home? If you run away when things are hard—"

"Dad, I don't need lectures, alright? You worried about me, fine, I'm okay. If that's all there is—"

"Don't. Please don't." The older turian's face softened. "Okay, maybe that was unwarranted. I'm sorry."

That put Garrus momentarily off-balance. His father noticed it and laughed bitterly. "Yes, that's not the kind of thing you're used to from me, I know."

"…No. Okay… fine." He sighed again.

"Why didn't you want to be found?"

The younger Vakarian felt ashamed of himself. However sick and fed up and tired he felt, his father's point still stood. "I, uh… wanted to get away. From everything." Another long-drawn breath. "I don't have the right words to tell you just how tired I got. Rix and Nihlus and the others spent so much time trying to drill some sense into the Council. And for nothing… just words and promises but no concrete action."

"I'm surprised you didn't mention the Prothean."

"That's because he didn't talk. He was… doing things. Moving the pieces he had, I guess. But then he started getting help without telling us who was helping him, and making decisions on his own."

"And getting results?"

"…Yeah. I got angry." He inhaled deeply. "I realized I made the mistake of trying to go through channels. It never worked out well for me."

"Those channels exist for many good reasons, son."

"Dad, I'm not arguing about sociology with you. The truth is that doing things by the book always… always got me screwed. All the way back to damn C-Sec. The Spectres, the Compact, they got things done. But even they started getting platitudes and lip service."

"You have to help me here, son. What's this about screwing and lip service?"

Garrus cursed to himself. "Sorry, dad. Human figures of speech."

The older Vakarian grinned. "You got some of that rubbed off on you."

"Well, dad, I worked with them. And we *did* get things done." Again a sigh. "I miss those days."

"So why quit?" Castis asked. "Because you couldn't stand the Prothean?"

"That's one reason."

A disapproving frown. "You know what I think about it. Now tell me the others."

"Call it… I don't know, disappointment?" He exhaled slowly. "Every day I woke up, put on the uniform, punched in, and spent half of my day tied up to a desk. Then I find out Javik is doing stuff behind the scenes while keeping most of her crew off the loop."

The older Vakarian had to think a bit to infer the meaning of those idioms. "You should have confronted him."

"What makes you think I didn't?"

Castis facepalmed. "If you're running alone instead of with them…"

"I think you can imagine what happened."

"Then what are you going to do next?"

"In all honesty… I was thinking that you could help me find an ear willing to listen. You still got your Hierarchy uniform, you can get someone relevant to listen to you."

A bitter smile. "I knew you weren't just calling to make amends."

"Stow it, dad! I meant to, okay?"

The unexpectedly harsh rebuttal caused the older Vakarian to blink. He stared for a couple of instants at his son. "Alright, son. I believe you. I shouldn't have said that."

Turians cannot bite their lips in human fashion, but Garrus would have done so if he were one. "Okay, dad. Sorry. I'm a bit on edge myself. Can you put me in touch with someone that will get things done?"

Castis cocked an eyebrow. "I have some weight, but really, nothing like you would. I'm not a hero and a galactic savior like you. But if you ask me to do it, then you have already tried and failed. So yes, son, I'll help you out."

"Please, dad. It's very important." Instantly he regretted those words. "Sorry. You know it, of course."

"You take care of yourself, son, please. And call your sister. Even if you don't see eye to eye she still looked for you vigorously."

Garrus clenched his jaw at that but acquiesced. Castis was absolutely right. "I will, dad, I promise. Thank you."

MSV Deliverance

Nihlus Kryik, a paragon among turians and everything a good Spectre aspired to be, was aghast. "Is this the plan you've been working on all this time?" he berated Javik. "A five-fold increase in military strength across the board? How in the name of whatever gods you worshipped do you expect this to happen?"

The prothean was impassive. He had foreseen that reaction. "Until better answers are available, this is our fallback proposal. I have said it myself before, in case you have forgotten it: the Reapers cannot be defeated in a stand-up fight."

"So why present some plan that won't pass scrutiny then?" Bau inquired piercingly.

"Time. I have spent time assessing the strengths of your militaries and your current scientific expertise. That much is what is needed to stall for time."

"Time for what?" The salarian's eyes were froglike but no less merciless for that.

"This." The hologram projector came alive to display a galactic map. A region on the core of the Terminus worlds was highlighted. "As you yourselves witnessed recently, the Reapers enjoy an overwhelming technological advantage. They will also have an overwhelming numerical advantage if your military strength does not improve before their arrival.

"Back when we were fighting them, an ever diminishing number of our brightest minds were tasked with figuring out the same answers. Traditional research did not suffice to bring us to an equal footing, as it will not suffice today. Thus, some of our scientists devoted themselves to finding out how the Reapers had come to be, and by whose hands. They sifted through the galaxy and managed to narrow down their search to these worlds."

"So we're going to entrust our future to xenoarchaeology?" T'Perro snorted.

"Looks like we're grasping for straws here," Anderson noted quietly.

"Because you are," Javik replied flatly. "I do not have any magical answers for you. Your best hope is not to retrace the steps of my kin, but to break new ground. You must continue where they left off."

"It would help us to know what they found out if we're to continue with their work," Bau pointed out.

"That much I can do for you." He tapped a command on his omni-tool. "I have prepared a dossier for your perusal. With great reluctance."

"That kind of attitude doesn't help."

"Being *paranoid* helps. Now that I have disseminated the workings of my fellow protheans, they are no longer a secret. If this information falls into the wrong hands, it could enable the agents of the enemy to seal our doom."

"You have little faith in us Spectres." Nihlus glared at Javik.

The prothean returned the glare. "Two of your number turned traitors: one outright succumbed to being indoctrinated by a Reaper, the other was compromised by a crime lord. So yes, I have little faith in you. It is up to you to prove me wrong. Now read."

The dossier was unexpectedly detailed. It consisted of a series of observations on archaeological diggings, sketched out in brief notes with little method or standard, the styles shifting notably from one to the next. Together, they painted the picture of a desperate quest for answers. They had first pulled off suicidal gambits to research Inusannon ruins on what now was batarian space, and that had led them into a costly and bloody chase that had finally produced clues to the cluster now highlighted on the map. By now, they were not looking for ruins, but for fossils instead. The final list detailed six hundred sites to prospect across almost as many stars, with only enough personnel and equipment to investigate three of them at most; with their backs against the wall and unable to stall the Reapers any further, they had thrown the dice — and lost.

Anderson was frustrated. "What do we have here? The finest the galaxy has to offer in special operations, plus the collected technical and cultural expertise of a dead—no, of a forerunner species, and the only strategy to deal with the Reapers is to simply put every able citizen under arms and hope we find a magical answer in some ruins?"

Javik wore his favorite nonplussed expression. "As you yourself said — you are grasping at straws."

The human officer felt his hackles rise. "'Us.' Not 'we.'"

"I am living on borrowed time. My civilization is already dead. I am trying to fulfill my duty by helping to save yours."

T'Perro reread the last few notes, then raised her eyes to stare at Javik: "What are you keeping from us?"

The prothean was inwardly pleased with himself. "You will have to live with that doubt."

The rest needed another second to catch on. Their asari colleague had a point: if he did not trust them and he had released that information to them, he discounted that eventually it would reach their enemy — and thus it would distract them from Javik's real plans.

Unless it was a bluff and those were his real plans.

While this meeting took place, Mei Ling-Zhou sat alone in her lab. A message from the Zoners confirmed that the remains they had found at the Reaper shipyard had belonged to a male settler of Ferris Fields, a tiny independent enclave near New Canton. The colony had dropped off the net without anyone noticing — until now.

No slaver could make entire colonies vanish without a single shot being fired. Humans were being targeted by an unseen enemy in the service of the Reapers.

She was the greenest among the Starwatch personnel, and the news she had just received confirmed that. She saw the horror that was unfolding with unreal and terrifying clarity — for some reason, it struck very close to home.

The door slid open then, and Jacqueline Nought walked in. "Hey, doc. What's — are you alright?"

"Oh. Hi, Jack… No, I'm not alright." She pushed the tablet computer across the desk.

The biotic frowned, then started reading. "Ferris Fields… another colony vanished… shit." She then looked at Mei more closely. "You had anyone close there, doc…?"

The Chinese girl shook her head. "No, no… honestly, the… other than here, the only close people I have are in this Freeport place Hiroshi-san visited."

"Tracer?"

"Yes."

Again the frown. "You look peaked as fuck."

"I… you know what happened to me, don't you?"

"Yeah. Reyes tried to eat you alive."

Jack's bluntness brought that horror to the fore with unexpected force. She shook her head in an attempt to dispel that wraith. "I was the last one left… nobody else could escape him. He didn't leave a trace of the others…"

The biotic got a glimpse of the dread haunting Mei. "Much like the settlers of these colonies…" Then something went click: "But Reyes is dead. He's… well, you were there."

"That thing can never be taken for dead." For a moment she vividly recalled the panic of the attack on the asteroid base of Erinyes, standing on the inside of a hardlight bubble with Reyes next to her and a twisting, billowing cloud of black death on the other side. "Especially not when there were… two of him." Again she shook her head. "I told Shepard I could never see him on our side."

That touched a fiber on Jack herself. She was silent for a moment, then sat on the other stool available in that lab. "It's not the same without the colonel."

"I'm hearing that a lot."

"Look around." Jack waved a hand around her. "How many people are left here? Tracer's gone. Liara, Garrus, Valena, Rix… Tali'Zorah too. Shilu'Vael stays to honor Shepard's memory. Her mother isn't going anywhere without her, she'd be gone too if not for that."

"And you?"

"Me?" A snort. "If I wasn't here I'd be a pirate, a hooker, a murderer or all three. There's no 'civilized' place for someone like me."

In the months following the battle for the Citadel, Mei had grown closer to all of Shepard's former crew. Jack kept the brash act, but Mei knew it was her way of coping as she battled the demons Cerberus had woven into her.

Jack was still trying to organize her thoughts. Wrestling with people was much, much easier than wrestling with words and feelings. "I owe it all to the colonel," she let out in a rare outburst of sincerity. "She broke me out and gave me a purpose."

"What happened to the people that…?"

Anger flashed on Jack's eyes. "That's a score to settle. Doctor Archer and the rest of the staff are being held in Arcturus. I get mails from time to time on them."

"Mails? Whose?"

"Sombra's, I think. Or maybe Miranda's." She clenched her fist briefly.

"Oh." A second's thought, then: "Awfully generous of Sombra if it's her."

"I think she lets me know they're locked up tight so that I won't leave my post here to gut them myself. But I got bigger fish to fry. I want to get my hands on Miranda and choke the truth out of her — just who it was that was giving out the orders." Again the fist-clenching. "That cheerleader bitch got away scot-free."

The Chinese scientist found asking about Jack's past helped keep hers at bay. "I think she deserves a break."

"Oh yeah? Spend your childhood locked up and tortured then let's see what you think about it."

Ouch. "Okay, point taken," she conceded. "Sorry." She could have said that Lawson had never taken action directly against her, but thought better of it. Her memory recalled something or other that had been said about Miranda having been in charge of the Teltin facility in the past, so that might not have been entirely correct.

Mei's comment had angered Jack, but the sincere apology left her without words to continue arguing. "S'okay," she said reluctantly.

"We still have problems that won't go away on their own," Mei said next, wanting to change subjects. "Two whole colonies have vanished." She scanned her report one last time and forwarded her discoveries and observations to Anderson, Javik and the Spectres. "If this isn't enough to get the Council moving, then nothing will."

Ziegler raced into the lab then. "Liara was attacked!" she almost screamed.

"What?!" both Jack and Mei let out in surprise. "How? When?" Mei demanded next.

Author's note: the usual but no less deserved thanks to BrokenLifeCycle and kyro2009 for the comments, input and ideas.