Minuteman Station

"Miranda…" The hologram of the Illusive Man exhaled a puff of smoke downwards with a somewhat tired look. "I'm disappointed in you."

She rested her left hand on her hips and glared at him icily in response. "Try walking in my shoes then. I was not conceived, but manufactured to specifications instead. With some fail-safes built in you never let me know about. I was just another iteration in your processes. I shouldn't tolerate or accept any of that. And yet, I do." She paused briefly for effect, her glare only colder and more forceful now: "Using Oriana as a device in your plots is to cross a red line."

He put the cigar to his lips, then exhaled another puff of smoke. "I have high hopes for Oriana. I indulged your father's obsession with a legacy because it channeled his immense wealth into something positive. She's destined to become part of something larger than us. Larger than Cerberus, even." The slight hint of a smug undertone did not escape her acute hearing. "You helped. At every step of the way. Ever since you were born, to the watch you kept over her flat in Anhur." He very slightly tilted his head sideways. "I would be further disappointed in you if you really believed I wouldn't know."

Lawson, long used to having near-perfect control of her features and emotions, did not let anything show on her face. She had been expecting him to find out, and had taken precautions by leaving behind false flags — hoping in that way to keep her true intent secret. But she had no way to find out whether that ploy had succeeded, and so the chess game was on. "What do you want with her?"

Slight creases appeared on his brow. "Don't insult my intelligence. That Valena Danaan visited her should tell you all you want to know."

"Give me a straight answer." For once.

He put the cigar to his lips again with languid motions before replying. "She'll be working right next to the lead environmental engineer of the project. Eventually she'll take the post herself."

"Her dream job."

"Of course. She'll pour her heart and soul into it. Her every bit of effort will go towards seeing the Initiative succeed."

"And you saw that she was manipulated into wanting this from day one."

A staid look. "We want to keep unwanted influences to a minimum. We can't afford any less." Then his features turned grim. "*You* can't afford any less." He shook his head slightly. "Once you'd have been the one to argue that tough times demand tough decisions."

"What's that 'tough decision' you're talking about? To fabricate a perfect leader in a controlled environment?" Intuition told her to beware, but at the same time she was starting to feel past caring. The objections she had heard time and time again about Cerberus and their projects during her stint under Shepard did not sound so cowardly or unreasonable now.

Her own objections, though, had a powerful emotional component, which was far from firm ground to lay the foundations for any rational argument. And the Illusive Man was of course aware of this. "There is no perfect 'controlled environment'. The impact of unforeseen variables can be mitigated at best, but never eliminated. This situation is a perfect example of that."

For some long seconds, he glared at her in silence. Miranda returned the stare poker-faced. "You're less valuable to Cerberus while this affair poisons your judgment. But it's clear words aren't going to change your mind on it, so I'll put you in a place where you can see it for yourself." Upon a hand gesture, a holographic panel appeared next to him. "I understand DELUGE-2 is about 80% complete. Go there and perform an inspection. Evaluate whether this assessment is accurate. And report your conclusions directly to me."

Omega

Aria's guess had been spot on. Not a few minutes after Shepard had left Afterlife, a female turian approached her and her crew: "Colonel?"

Aaliyah looked over the turian carefully and recognized her: this one had irately left Afterlife as she was arriving there. "I just saw you."

The turian returned the examining look with grim satisfaction. "I knew it had to be you." She offered her hand next, in deference to human customs. "I'm Nyreen Kandros."

Instantly Aaliyah took a liking to her. She shook the proffered hand vigorously. "I don't know you, but now I want to."

That got her a curt but grateful nod in response. "I'm all for pleasantries, but time is of the essence. I have it that you're going into the quarantine zone."

Shepard scowled. "I kind of expected it, but word travels fast here."

"I know Aria," Kandros said. "We were… well acquainted. So to speak. We have some contacts in common. She leaks stuff to them when she wants me to know it, even when we're not on speaking terms."

'Silthea' smiled. "And you're not 'on speaking terms' now."

Now it was Nyreen who scowled. "I just called her a heartless bitch in front of all of Afterlife. You tell me."

Liara paled but said nothing. Only while being held at gunpoint would she do something so outrageous.

Shepard spoke next: "You wanted my attention, you got it. But we'd better make it brief. We can't hang around for too long here."

The turian agreed curtly again. "That's wise. There's not a few scammers and posers claiming to be you. But the show you threw on the gates is going to spread fast. Not that I object to it," she clarified. "Actually, you got to see Aria without anyone getting killed. Not an easy thing to do."

"She didn't like it much anyway," Shepard muttered. "What do you need?"

"Help," Kandros said simply. "I'm running with the Talons. I suppose you've heard of us."

Sombra snorted, befitting the harsh and unfriendly mercenary she was pretending to be. "You guys are still around? This place is taking its sweet time to crush you. Bleeding heart do-gooders usually don't last long here."

"While that wonderful mindset of yours is the local norm, it will be hard to build anything here." Kandros had not even bothered with a cold or sharp voice tone. "I called Aria a heartless bitch because she thinks like you."

Sombra's smooth hint on Kandros' crew had told Shepard volumes about the turian: running a group of 'do-gooders' in a place so hostile to that would require a better than competent leader at the helm. "And what's it that you need help with?"

"Aria has locked down Gozu very tightly. Nothing comes in or out, it's all chaos in there. Some of my crew are trapped or have relatives in there. I can't get them out, but at least I can get them some food, meds and ammo."

That earned her a wary look. "If Aria doesn't want you in there, I'm sorry."

"If Aria didn't want me in there, she'd have had me knocked out and locked up somewhere. You saw me leave Afterlife. Take it as you may."

Shepard was not moved. "I only have your word for it. Whatever she pretends, Aria doesn't like that I made her look bad."

"She never said 'only you and your companions'. Aria allowed you to go on the condition that you fixed the problem there and didn't show up outside Gozu for a while." Nyreen smiled. "Not the best of deals if you ask me."

That caught her flat-footed. She was almost tempted to glance at 'Silthea', but the 'mercenary' said nothing, instead faking boredom to conceal her careful listening and attentive watch for eavesdroppers. Liara felt seriously out of her depth there and was now wondering why her paramour had asked her to come along for this one.

"Okay… it's your turf, and I can use an insider."

Nyreen bowed her head graciously. "Very kind of you. Let's get going."

T'Soni had heard the conversation, and thought she understood why, and she did not like it — but still she asked: "Ammo?"

"The moment Aria sealed off Gozu, the looting started. One of my henchmen organized our men there along with some locals. They've held out. So far."

"Goddess…"

'Silthea' rolled her eyes towards the ceiling and let out a frustrated sigh. "You know, just once I'd like to simply knock on a door, ask my questions, and be on my way, but no, there's always a mess to sort out."

The turian smirked in spite of herself. "I'd have thought a bounty hunter would be used to that already."

"Doesn't mean I like it," was the brash retort.

Shepard shook her head. "There's… There's this ancient fictional character on Earth — I think you could call him a 'militant anarchist'. He claimed people are only as good as life allows them to be. He put it like this… 'When the chips are down, these, uh, 'civilized' people will eat each other'."

Kandros' jaw tightened. "I'd say I've struggled all my life against that philosophy." She then glanced sideways at Shepard as they walked. "Color me curious. The Savior of the Citadel, founder of the Compact and all-round Paragon of the Galaxy suddenly spouts that to me. Jaded much?"

Aaliyah snorted. "I was jaded long before then. Before Pokhara I had already seen enough misery to beat any kind of optimism out of me. And yet…" She exhaled in a long drawn sigh. "I don't know. Maybe beneath all those layers of cynicism there's still something that refuses to give up. I don't see it, except maybe in my actions. But others sure as hell seem to." The visage of Gabriel Reyes appeared in her mind, and a sad shadow darkened her face. "Gabriel saw it. I think. Probably."

Kandros was studying her expression. "The former terrorist."

A nod. "Deep down, I guess… I can't surrender. I do, and then there's nothing left. I've fought and bled and—" she nearly said 'died', but stopped herself "—almost been killed because of that little bit of… hope. That's me, I guess. Hope."

The turian's eyes sparkled. "I guess I understand the Spectres a little better now."

Nyreen had them take a short detour to stop at a run-down warehouse that her crew was apparently using as a hideout. A fellow turian met them at the door: "Everything's ready."

"Good job," Nyreen approved. "We'll take it from here."

Her lieutenant eyed the newcomers that had arrived with her, some doubt in his eyes. "Are you sure… wait. Isn't she… she's the real deal?"

"Indeed."

The turian gave Aaliyah a curious look, then he stepped aside and gestured: "We've prepared four packages as you told us. Food, ammo, medicines." The turian eyed the armors on the newcomers. "Those look fancy. But maybe you need a closed breathing system upgrade anyway."

Shepard refused the offer politely. "Thanks, but our gear will get the job done."

Liara's agile mind leaped a few jumps forward. The conclusions made her skin crawl: "Is… is the disease in Gozu airborne?"

A salarian overheard her and approached: "We don't know, but take all precautions. Our people there are all infected. They were trying to be careful with food and water at first, but that didn't work." Then he noticed Shepard and her team all carried a very light load and shook his head. "What we've prepared should sustain fifteen healthy people for a week. I didn't account for three extra mouths… but then, maybe—"

Nyreen cut in brusquely: "I don't need to hear that right now, Valon."

A quick nod. "Right. Sorry."

Liara's scientific curiosity was taking over. "Have your people there collected any data on this?"

Valon shook his head. "Our crew doesn't have instruments to do it, doctor. Only one person in there who's sure to have them, another salarian running the clinic. We haven't been able to get to him."

"Tell me the basic symptoms, at least."

"Well… fever, rashes, coughing. Then the bleeding starts. Mouth, eyes, nose, everywhere."

The young asari felt a shiver running down her spine. "Sounds like haemorrhagic fever. But, here? In a space station?"

"And affecting many different species," 'Silthea' noted.

"Except for humans and vorcha," Valon pointed out. "I've heard it's normal for vorcha not to get sick. But humans…" He hesitated, then shook his head. "I'd ask if you're really sure you want to go in there, but if you are the real Shepard then you don't need to hear it from me."

His choice of words intrigued Aaliyah: "Who are you? What do you do for a living?"

"Oh, sorry, please excuse my manners. I'm Valon Casso. My fellows here are Briccus, Gax, and the Scar brothers." He pointed alternately at the turian that had met them at the door, a krogan, and a pair of vorcha. They all gestured in greeting in their own fashion. "Me, I'm a trader. Or I was. I lived in Gozu before this mess started. Surely by now my house and belongings have all been looted. Now I handle some of the Talons' logistics for them."

Her initial reaction was to wonder how a krogan could get along with turians and salarians, but she was no stranger to it — she had gotten Wrex to cooperate with her and Garrus.

Garrus.

Wrex.

I wonder where they are…

The thought lasted for just a fleeting moment before she boxed it away. She would look for them, but not now. There was work to do.

"Liara? Will you be okay with this one?" She pointed at the smallest backpack.

Liara picked it up. It weighed about fifteen kilos. "I can manage."

"There's a lot of medicines in there," Casso warned. "I packed it as carefully as possible, but it's full of delicate things. Don't jostle it around much."

"Liara will see to it," Shepard said confidently.

Casso was looking at Nyreen, concern in his eyes. She noticed this: "What bothers you?"

"Once you're in there, you can't get out until the plague dies down or everyone is dead," the salarian said with disquiet. "I know, it's your crew, they need help. But…"

"But that's it." Nyreen was grim. "When did you see me not helping *our* crew because it was too risky?"

'Silthea' shook her head slowly. "Let's just hope your luck doesn't run out today."

"Let's hope not," the Talons leader agreed. "Let's go, people."

"Good luck," the turian guard said half heartedly in goodbye.

The krogan seconded him: "Try not to get yourself killed in there."

Aaliyah and Liara were watching. Clearly the Talons in that warehouse were concerned for their leader, and wanted to dissuade her from going, but they seemed to know she would not have any of it — and were only further worried because of it. Even the near animalistic vorcha, they noted.

As they walked away, T'Soni highlighted this: "These people are very loyal to you."

"I eat with them, fight next to them, sleep where they sleep, shoulder their burdens as much as I can…" the turian shook her head. "You just said how it was hope that kept you going. The same thing keeps me on the field. I know, a good officer doesn't take any more risks than she needs, and someday that's going to get me killed… but I can't stop doing this any more than you. And yes, it warms your heart that any one of those five in there would take a bullet for you. Any Talon would." She breathed deeply. "I can't betray that trust, that loyalty. That's something worth putting your life on the line for."

Involuntarily Shepard was taken all the way back to her first lessons in officer school, long before being selected to take the ICT course and earning her spurs as a N1. The great military commanders of history jumped to her mind: Julius Caesar, Charles XII of Sweden, Aleksandr Suvorov, Napoleon. All of them had inspired fanatical devotion in their troops by doing pretty much what Kandros was doing — but her instructors had stressed that many, many, many more leaders had seen such efforts rewarded with early graves.

This she said to Nyreen: "Your men absolutely love you — and you're much more valuable to them alive. Going to Gozu with us is almost reckless. We can keep the looters, rioters and gangbangers away from you, but the plague still might get you." She saw she was not getting through to her, so she stopped and looked her in the eyes: "At some point you will have to detach yourself. The further you postpone it, the harder it will be to choose when every choice costs you lives. Being a charismatic leader is not the same as being an effective one."

Nyreen wanted to hold her piercing glare, but she could not. There was pain in her eyes when she again looked into Shepard's: "You're right. But I can't do it now. I can't lead these people knowing some of them died and I didn't help them."

Shepard did not press the point further. That challenge broke many, and it was one she had had to overcome. "I hope you can learn. For your men's sake."

"So do I," Kandros agreed quietly.

Unexpectedly, Aaliyah heard Sombra's voice in her mind. That was some very fine leadership advice. Once I said you'd have made a great shrink. Now I wonder…

If you'd been around by the time Overwatch was grappling with the first Omnic Crisis, how different things would have been?

Shepard thought she understood: For some time now I've been wanting to ask why are you helping me. Is this why?

'Silthea' continued walking in silence. She could have argued that Aaliyah, regardless of her form, somehow was becoming a crux for the efforts to stop the Reapers, that without her leadership they were likely to fail…

She could have also said that she just had to get involved, that for too long had she contented herself with playing spymaster and waging a shadow war for the information brokerage business…

She could have answered that, with Reyes' fate unknown, and having seen the change her influence had effected on the former Blackwatch commander, she felt she owed it to his memory to repay the debts of blood and gratitude Gabriel had owed her…

All true things, and yet…

For some reason, they all rang hollow.

I could tell you any number of perfectly reasonable motives, coronel. I'm sure someone with your smarts has already considered the logical ones.

She forged a digital connection with Shepard's consciousness so that Aaliyah could see her image in her mind, as if they were talking privately face to face.

Once, I would have said everything came at a price. But now, I help because I want to. Not just because I want you to stop the Reapers. Her digital self smiled. Call it loyalty, if you want. I never held allegiances to anything other than myself, not truly. Los Muertos, Blackwatch, Talon… anyone who met my price could hire me. But there's things beyond money. I never believed that before, but now I do.

Involuntarily Shepard blinked. She would have been swamped by an enormous glow if not for a small doubting voice in her mind.

That's… not the answer I was expecting.

Sombra's digital self laughed. I know. I didn't expect it either. A reassuring look. I'm charging everyone else through the nose, coronel. That way I can support your mission with you not having to suffer any strings attached. She slightly frowned next. Well, almost no strings. Occasionally I can need help caring for some of my assets. I don't want to distract you with that, but sometimes there'll be no choice.

That's fair, Shepard accepted. I can live with that.

There was no such thing as a 'gate' to Gozu. There was instead a long, narrow street that Aria's mercs had barricaded using wrecked hover cars, with several mechs and some automated defenses in attendance.

And, before them, countless corpses were strewn on the ground. Hundreds and hundreds of them.

Upon being told what the plague was about, Liara had half-expected to see that — panic was a catalyst for violence. The grisly sight still horrified her.

Nyreen would have also been aghast if her knowledge of Aria's ruthlessness had not forewarned her about it. But it did not make it any better.

A turian who seemed to be the man in charge approached them and said hoarsely, his voice muffled by his closed helmet: "Bray said to relay this to you: this is your last chance to change your mind. The moment we lose sight of you, until this mess is resolved you don't leave Gozu. One way or another," he added for emphasis. "Clear?"

Kandros looked at him sullenly. "Let us through already, Gavorn."

The mercenary shrugged. "I'll take that as a 'yes'." He waved his right hand forward at the line of armed troops manning the barricade. "I'd ask what's gotten into you, but I get the feeling you won't tell me."

"We're gonna do some good there. Not that you'd understand."

Another shrug. "Do whatever you want. But don't show up until the all-clear is given. Unless you want to get shot."

"Thanks for the heads-up," 'Silthea' said sarcastically. "Now get out of the way."

They walked through the barricades and down the street. Aria's goons watched them go as if they were dead men. They did not look back.

The street led into some kind of square. At least, that's what it had once been. Now the best that could be said about it was that there was not much smoke or dust in the air. Some fires still burned inside wrecked shops and dwellings. Some buildings had been completely demolished and were burned-out piles of charred metal. Corpses were strewn all over the place, a few of them bearing the colors of the Blue Suns.

And, next to a pair of dead mercs, a lone batarian also clad in blue sat, his helmet lying next to him. His breathing was ragged.

As they saw each other, the mercenary's eyes hardened. He tried to raise the sidearm on his right hand, but he was so weak he could not even lift his arm halfway. He gave up, coughed miserably, and sneered in a tortured voice: "Human. Should have guessed. Bad enough you infect us with this plague… now, you… you lack the decency to even wait until I die."

Shepard ignored the insult. "Stay back," she told the rest of her team, and approached the sick merc. Agony and pain were on his reddened eyes, blood seeping out of a nostril. If he was not in the last stages of the disease, he would very soon be. Involuntarily she glanced backwards to check everyone was wearing their helmets, then sampled the air: it was so thick with viral particles that breathing it was a death sentence to everyone not human or vorcha. "You need help. Let me see what I can do for you."

"Get away from me!" Again he tried to raise his gun, and this time he was more successful. The pistol quivered in his trembling hand as he pointed it at Shepard: "You… your plague did this to me. Don't insult me with… with feigned pity."

Aaliyah ignored the gun and squatted where she stood. Now at eye level, she asked: "What makes you say that? Humans not getting infected?"

More tortured coughing. Anger fueled his words: "The evidence… is all around to see. Your species… it's the only one immune to the plague. Yours, and the wretched vorcha…"

Shepard first thought of asking about the clinic, but it was crystal clear that this batarian was too weak to walk another step. "What happened to your crew?"

"Why do you care?" A fit of explosive coughing. "You… Damn it. Damn you—" More coughing. Something was coming loose right now.

She stepped forward: "Hey. Stay with me." On a command, her omni-tool fashioned a syrette loaded with a nanite shot, which she stabbed into the neck of the agonizing batarian. She waited for some dreadful twenty seconds, fearing that he would convulse and die right before her eyes, but the nanites kicked in. There was more coughing, but after that, the batarian wheezed a few breaths.

Hostility gave way to incredulity. He straightened up and looked at her in stupor: "You… you… helped me… why?"

"I'm a soldier, not a monster." She looked him over. Bloody sores had formed around his neck, near the collar of his armor. "Here. This ought to help." She applied a dose of medi-gel to the sores.

Some of the pain went away, and it showed on his face. It hardened again — briefly, before relaxing. He let out a long-drawn sigh of relief. "I… I should be wary, but… I feel… better. Thanks to you." The batarian gave her an examining look, and then glanced at the assembled trio waiting some ten paces away. "You… you're from outside Gozu? What brings… What brings you here? Why'd you want to come? It's hell in here."

"There's some people who need our help. Also, I'm looking for some information."

Another wheeze. "I was… I was in charge of the Blue Suns here. I used to know everyone in Gozu. I think you're wasting your time, human, but… tell me what you're looking for. I might know."

A nod. "If you are who I think, then you probably know about slaver rings and deals with the Collectors."

A coughing fit almost bent him again in two, but he recovered and took a few breaths before answering: "The plague struck shortly after a crew from Batalla delivered… delivered a shipment here. It was for the Collectors, as you say." He stopped briefly to gather his strength, then: "I… set up the first meeting. They had… had a liaison here, one asari… She picked up two shipments, then the… the Collectors themselves came to pick up a third one. The day after they left… People started dying. Gavorn and his goons came and… they rounded up the slavers and shot them."

Shepard almost blurted out: And the plague is our fault, how? She took a deep breath, bit her lips, and reminded herself that she could not waste time indulging her ego: this batarian could die before she had gotten everything useful out of him.

Bitterness soured her thoughts anyway. Whatever the slavers had known had died with them. We came too late.

But then a small flicker of grim hope lit up in her mind: if the outbreak had been so swift… then probably the guards who had looted the dead were still there… Aria would not have let them out of the quarantine zone. She thought of asking this batarian about it, but probably Gavorn would be a better source. "What happened to your crew here?"

"We had to… dig in… and hoped to get extracted, but…" again the coughing, then: "But they left us here to rot… Didn't even answer us. Then the extranet was cut, and the vorcha…" The batarian gestured helplessly at the devastated square.

Shepard looked around. Many of the dead were vorcha — over sixty of them. Some looked like they had been killed very recently. She took note of the many scorch marks and bullet holes around the places the mercenaries had used for cover… These vorcha were total maniacs. Why? What mattered so much about these mercs? "Did they want anything from you?"

The batarian shook his head weakly. "I… normally I'd tell you that vorcha don't care, but now, I… I'm not so sure. I don't know, anyway. I didn't let them get close. They weren't in the mood of asking—asking questions." He got on all fours first, then with painstaking effort he stood up. For a moment the batarian swayed on his feet, but after a moment he regained his balance. "I should… try and get to the clinic, but…"

Shepard observed him, then arched an eyebrow: "But you fear you'll get shot."

A bitter smile. "So the story has spread. Serves us right, I guess." Again the coughing. Again he swayed dangerously, but did not fall.

"You won't make it around the next corner like that." Shepard looked over her shoulder, hesitating, then called out: "Silthea! Come over here!"

The 'bounty huntress' looked at the merc distastefully. Bitingly she said: "What is it that they call that organization of young human do-gooders? The 'scouts'?"

"Last I remember I hired you, so stow it," Shepard 'snapped' back, suddenly enjoying the act. "Can you make a mask for this man?"

"Child's play." She 'used her omni-tool' to fabricate a respirator, then shoved it into Aaliyah's hands. "Not going to kill myself for you."

"Nobody asked you to," was the curt retort. She affixed the respirator to the batarian's face carefully. "This should help you breathe easier. I'm sorry, but we can't take you with us. We can't keep you safe once the shooting starts."

"I wasn't going to… to ask you to do it," the batarian replied. There was shame in his voice. Then he removed his own omni-tool: "Here… take this with you. Our compound is that way," he gestured vaguely. "You'll recognize it. The vorcha probably… probably have looted most of it, but… the vaults… I don't think they got anything like a good hacker with them, and… you'd need more than explosives to… to blow them open. Help yourself to anything you need."

Shepard blessed her good fortune. She connected the omni-tool to 'hers', and took a snapshot of its data. "Thank you," she said earnestly. "Maybe the people I came to help can use some of that. Know anything about the Talons?" She returned the device, but the merc refused it:

"No, no, keep it… Consider that proof of… allegiance. Take that to the Blue Suns and they'll owe you a favor." A bitter, bloody chuckle. "Or they should. If they haven't unpersoned us." After a wheeze, he added: "Last I heard of the Talons, they… they had holed up in some tunnels leading to… old shafts of the eezo mines. A krogan was leading them." He panted slightly, and tried breathing deeply — managing not to cough now. "Thank you, human. Please… excuse my harsh words."

"I hope you survive long enough to put that wisdom to use," Shepard said sternly but good-naturedly.

"I… I hope I do. Do… Do you have a name?"

"I'm Aaliyah Shepard."

The batarian grinned behind his respirator. "I could almost believe you. All right, I'll… I'll remember that name if you wish. Good luck, human. You'll need it here. If you survive, tell the Blue Suns that Grobar Vanthoss asked… that they have the decency of paying you for your help."

She shook her head. "You'll do that yourself. Take care, Vanthoss."

Shepard walked back to her crew. "I need to get a few things from Gavorn."

"He'll shoot you on sight," Nyreen warned.

"Yes," Shepard agreed, "if he sees me."

Whereas the core of Omega held some resemblance to a developed albeit rough metropolis, it was the less flashy districts that showed its true face. Gozu was one. However, right now it was not some slums as much as it had been a battlefield. A few public lights still flickered here and there, but most had been shot, in the same way most windows had been smashed and most homes and shops looted. The whole district was shrouded in penumbra.

"Definitely we're late to the party," 'Silthea' said quietly. No one disputed her.

They had perhaps walked in silence for six or seven minutes, leapfrogging from cover to cover and expecting to be fired upon at any moment, when they heard the faint sounds of shattering glass, and a jumble of loud voices and animal-like snarls next.

Automatically Shepard raised a bunched fist and the rest of her squad froze on their tracks. She listened intently, and the grunting and yelling repeated. Vorcha and… something else. Humans are the only other thing immune to the virus, so…

Are krogan immune? She did not recall seeing any krogan corpses so far. Then again, the hulking aliens were rarer than most.

Now the echoes of gunfire reached them: a few pistol shots soon became a fierce firefight.

Quickly but silently, Shepard led her squad through the devastated streets until they turned around a corner and saw the source of the commotion: a score of vorcha fighters were crowding both sides of a doorway. One of them tried to lean around the doorframe to squeeze off a barrage with his submachine gun but a blazing tracer grazed him, so it immediately pulled back and uttered an enraged snarl—

—and as he turned around, he spotted Shepard and her crew and let out a piercing shriek. His fellows turned around and fired on the spot.

Aaliyah had no time for small stuff. She simply stood out of cover and turned ablaze with blue-greenish fire. There was a wail of twisting metal as she tore a wrecked hover car to pieces and floated them in midair for a moment, the enemy rounds bouncing on her barrier—

—and the next instant, the vorcha were gone.

After a few seconds of deadly quiet, she started walking towards the doorway. Nyreen had to force her mouth to speak: "Damn it, Shepard… You don't dick around."

"I don't have patience for gangs and looters anymore," was the disgusted reply. "They're like fleas. Or vultures."

"I don't know what those are, but they must not be nice." Then the turian seemed to note something: "Hold on… this is… I think this is Valon's place."

"Is it now." Aaliyah did not break stride. "Then it's a good chance to do some house cleaning." She stopped near the door, then again blazed blue-green, and roughly five meters around her were blanketed in the same seagreen light, some pebbles and random bits of junk floating drunkenly. "I'm coming in," she hollered next. "Keep your guns tight, unless you fancy taking a dirt nap with the vorcha here."

The show of force apparently was effective, for no one challenged her as she walked inside the building.

Three humans had hastily barricaded themselves there behind piles of junk and debris. One of them recognized her immediately: "Holy shit! Ain't that…"

"But… she bought it at—at the Citadel," said a woman with a quaking voice.

The third one seemed to be their leader — oddly enough, he was the scrawniest of the three. "I don't care if she's the bloody Wonder Woman, look what she did to them goblins. I don't want to end up like that." That said, he lowered his rifle. "Thanks for saving our arses, miss."

"Don't thank me just yet," she replied brusquely. "You live here?"

Instantly they were uncomfortable. "No, miss," the thin man admitted. "We're just trying to survive in the ruins. Bloody vorcha. They're like fleas here."

"Yeah, everywhere," the other man seconded him. "They be huntin' us down. Couple a' days back there were ten of us."

They absolutely were looters, but Shepard could not blame them. Fate had seen to it that they paid a very heavy price for whatever they had gotten their hands on. "Alright. I can't hold it against you. But this apartment belongs to an associate of ours. So whatever you took from it, hand it over." A spark of greed lit up briefly on the scrawny face, until she added coldly: "Or else."

She saw that, despite her display of power, the looters still were trying to find a way to hold onto their plunder, and briefly thought of making an example of one of them — but they bowed to the inevitable before she could decide on it. "We… took this," the scrawny one said, pointing at a crate. "We hoped to use it if we got out of there alive. But when that'll happen…"

"Nyreen!" Shepard called out, then replied: "I came here to fix that, in part. I'm your best chance of surviving this, so don't try me. Hand it over."

"I'm coming," the turian acknowledged. Liara and 'Silthea' took it as a suggestion to act and approached to keep both Shepard and Kandros covered while the latter retrieved the crate and inspected its contents. Her eyes bulged briefly. "Thanks. Valon will appreciate this."

"If we get out of here," the 'mercenary' muttered curtly.

Liara approached the humans: "If you don't mind… are you feeling unwell?"

"What?" The woman gawked at her. "I'm scared and starving and I haven't slept in days, how do you think I feel?"

"She's askin' how ya feel 'coz of the plague, dumbass!" the second man pointed out harshly.

"Oh!" the woman blushed brightly. "I'm—I'm sorry. We're all, like, peaked as fuck here, but other than that and what—what I just said, and a few scrapes and cuts… no, we're, like, okay. I guess."

"It's fine. I understand." Liara tapped her omni-tool and scanned the woman's vitals. They matched her words: she was stressed and hungry, but not sick. "I know what it is to feel stressed."

Shepard was watching the looters like a hawk, but as they did not seem to be threatening Liara she slightly relaxed. "I take it you don't have anywhere safer than this place."

The scrawny man shook his head. "No, miss. We've been hiding and running for weeks. There's no getting out, there's no fighting them goblins — always so many of them about."

"What about the hospital?"

"What? You mean, the mad salarian's place? We can't get there. The goblins infest every block and street between here and there."

"Have they taken it?" Nyreen asked keenly.

As one, the looters shrugged. "Can't say," the other man said. "Last heard 'bout it a week ago. They hadn't, but they weren't carin' much for it either. Funny thing, now that I think of it."

"They think they got all the time in the world… Sooner or later that hospital has to run out of food and water," Shepard reasoned darkly. For a moment: "Nah, they wouldn't wait. They threw themselves at Vanthoss like crazy, why'd they leave a hospital intact?"

Liara and Nyreen exchanged looks, then the former asked: "Maybe they didn't attack the place on orders?"

The looters did not miss a word. "'Orders'?" the scrawny one scoffed. "You don't know them goblins, don't you, miss? They're little smarter than beasts."

"I've heard a lot of Solus, especially since that incident with the protection racket," Nyreen said cautiously, "and I know he's practical to the point of mercilessness. But I don't think that would stop beasts like these. I don't buy it either, but I can't think of another motive."

'Silthea' was keeping a watch on the scene from the doorframe — and she turned her head to look behind her shoulder: "Beasts or not, they're coming."

Shepard pointed at the ground. "You three, stay here," she told the looters. Then, to Liara: "You too." She saw her paramour wanted to protest, so she took off her backpack and added as she handed it to her: "Our cargo is too valuable to risk. I need you to look after it. Girls, give her your rucksacks."

They left the flat and went back to the street. The front of the building faced a ruined courtyard of sorts, with three exits. Sombra pointed at the leftmost one, which led to a narrow alleyway. Immediately Shepard and Nyreen took positions among the wreckage and waited for the source of the grunts and snarls to come into view.

They did not have to wait for long. A trio of the goblin-like mongrels turned around the corner a hundred-odd meters away, and uttered a loud screech as they spotted the mutilated corpses of their fellows. Nyreen seized that distraction and opened up with her assault rifle; the expertly aimed burst scythed through the vorcha, but that only whipped their already angry fellows into a berserk frenzy. They started pouring into the corridor, heedless of the danger and ignoring when their fellows fell, returning fire wildly and inaccurately.

The alleyway was almost like a shooting gallery. Shepard's group made the best out of their excellent defensive position, almost every shot of Kandros and 'Silthea' felling a foe, but their enemy not only had numbers to spare but was also lusting for blood, and Nyreen got a warning of how close she was playing it when she almost got the wind knocked out of her lungs by the feedback of her shields overloading.

It was then that Shepard unleashed another volley of jagged shrapnel. Those that did not join their dead brethren on the ground were impaled to the walls on the far end of the alleyway.

That actually gave their attackers pause. Kandros breathed a relieved sigh, and only then noticed her breastplate had absorbed four enemy rounds… and…

"Shit." There was blue blood on her right side.

'Silthea' approached her. Brusquely she shoved Nyreen's hands out of the way and inspected the injury. "It's not serious, but we have to deal with this now." That said, she unpacked her first aid kit, and stabbed a nanite syrette right in the wound. "We'll have to do the rest the old way. You turians don't like Alliance medi-gel."

"Do what you must," came the reply through clenched teeth.

Shepard watched with concern. There was no way to tell whether Nyreen had been exposed. A nanite shot had been enough to stabilize Vanthoss, but completely counteracting the infection most likely was a whole other can of worms.

But some noise coming from the alleyway told her their problems were only starting:

"Huh? What do we have here?" A krogan shoved his way through the vorcha and appeared in the alleyway. He gave Shepard's group a contemptive look — then he noted the shrapnel-encrusted corpses lying around and the asari among them. "So you think you can just walk about here because you have a blueskin with you?" A snort, then he raised his shotgun with an evil grin. "Let me… disabuse you of that idea."

He pulled the trigger. There was a distorted snapping sound as the slug bounced harmlessly off Shepard's invisible barrier.

"Thanks, mister. I stand corrected," the former Starwatch colonel said derisively. "Though, if you don't mind me saying it… I get the feeling you're also mistaken. You seem to be under the impression you can actually forbid people from walking about here." Shepard smiled in turn. "Let me return the favor."

A blinding light flashed and a thunderbolt roared as a pulsing shockwave erupted from Shepard, knocking down the vorcha or blowing them away. The krogan was shaken but remained on his feet — and he was not smiling anymore.

Shepard's sarcasm had also vanished, replaced with a wrathful glare. She started walking towards the krogan. "I'm sick and tired of encountering people like you everywhere I go," she seethed. "You are going to drop your weapons. You are going to tell me why you haven't taken Mordin Solus' hospital. You are going to tell me if you've had anything to do with the plague." She did not break stride. "If there's the slightest thing I don't like about what you do or say next I'll kill you where you stand."

The krogan clenched his jaws. "So, you want my guns?" he muttered, then bellowed: "Then COME AND—"

"Take them, yeah yeah, whatever." One moment, Shepard had been a dozen footsteps away. The next one, she was right next to the krogan — and tore into him with a biotics-enhanced chop, which she followed with a brutal headbutt. Just like it had been with Grimlug over at the Afterlife pub, this krogan also ended up sprawled in the ground.

Except that this time she put the muzzle of the shotgun to her enemy's face and pulled the trigger without a second thought.

Next she glanced at the vorcha. Many looked like they needed a change of underwear. She sighed and turned to glare at them. "You got five seconds to give me a damned good reason not to do the same to you."

The goblin-like mongrels cowered under her ruthless stare. "We… we leave you alone," one uttered nervously, the voice barely a little better than a screech. "We go and bother you no more, never—"

"Not enough." She blazed blue-green again.

"WAIT-WAIT!" This time the screech was louder. "We… we take you to hospital! Yes! You want to go there, yes?"

She slightly arched her eyebrows: "Is Mordin Solus still in there?"

"Yes-yes! Mad salarian still in hospital!"

In the meantime, Sombra was examining the dead with a meticulous look. "Wait a second here… This krogan… he wasn't wearing a mask. And he wasn't sick. No rashes, no sores… He wasn't bleeding either."

Nyreen quickly caught on. "Aren't only humans and vorcha immune?"

Sombra quickly fashioned an omni-blade to take a sample of tissue off the dead krogan. Then she fabricated a small vial to collect some of its blood. "If this doc is as good as they say he'll know what to do with this."

The one thing that told Shepard they had been brought to the right place was that the corpses, clad in blue, still hung around the building.

"This is the hospital?" an ill-humored 'Silthea' asked their terrified guide.

"Yes-mad salarian here! Works here! Kills many of us—"

"Good that he did." Shepard shoved the vorcha behind her and kicked him in the rear. "Now get lost. And hope I don't hear any of you killing or mugging anybody else here."

The mongrel ran away as if death itself was on his heels. The former Starwatch colonel let out a disgusted snort, and studied her surroundings and the facade of the hospital. The fighting there had been fierce, if the scorch marks on the hospital walls were proof; its every window had been shattered, then barricaded and reinforced, but now no shooters manned them. The surrounding street and the buildings lining it also bore the signs of battle, with no few blood stains visible.

A few yellow circles highlighted a few spots for her over the hospital facade. Sombra clearly had been doing the same and had spotted the cleverly hidden cameras and sensors that still worked, marking them for her as if she was looking through some heads-up display. She purposefully did not look at them, but instead stood passively in front of the hospital door, waiting for someone to open it up for her.

They did not have to wait for long. Four people were on the other side, two of them manning a crew-served heavy machine gun. The others had their weapons pointed at them. A helmeted salarian brandishing a pistol approached slowly, scrutinizing them very carefully, then he relaxed and nodded at Nyreen. "Good to see you." He looked at the bandage on her belly: "You're hurt. Let's get that looked at."

The turian deflated with a relieved sigh. "Teron. I thought you had made it out of here."

The salarian shook his head. "Gavorn didn't let me through. Managed to get a warning out before extranet access was cut."

"Hmph. Tough luck."

"Why did you come? No one in their mind would want to be here."

"Tusk's group didn't make it out. Only now I got a crew that could help me find them."

Teron gave Nyreen's companions a second look, and did a double-take after he recognized who the young asari next to the human was. "Hold on a second… Shepard? The real Shepard? So you're not dead after all."

The eponymous Aaliyah smirked. "I get that a lot."

That elicited an amused grin. "I suppose you would." The salarian approached and held out his hand. "Teron Kizzik, Special Tasks Group."

Aaliyah shook the proffered hand. "A strange place to meet one of you." She then frowned. "Or maybe not. Liara here was getting all kinds of ugly ideas about what could happen if this plague spreads out of Gozu."

The STG agent nodded his concern. "And they're all correct. Mordin has been working nonstop on a vaccine." He turned on his heel and led their guests inside, but not before instructing the militia: "Stay on guard. Probably they'll try something again now that they saw people getting in." He got serious nods from the two humans and the turian keeping watch.

Liara noticed this. "You seem well organized."

"We can't afford bickering here. Mordin has taken in a lot of people, but he's practical — he kicked out the first bunch that protested who was in charge, and didn't let them back in. No one has complained since then."

'Silthea' smirked. "The more I hear about this Mordin, the more I like him."

Shepard noted next: "I'm surprised this place is still standing."

"So are we," Teron admitted. "We don't understand why. The vorcha threw themselves at us again and again, as you could see from the state of the building and the surroundings. If they wanted to wreck this place, they'd just have set us on fire, but they didn't. They want something from us, but we don't know what that is."

She was reminded of the corpses hung outside: "We encountered one of the Blue Suns on our way here. The last of them, it seems. He was in bad shape."

"Too bad for him," the STG agent said ruefully. "When Mordin first set up this place they tried to extort him — you've heard the story, I guess."

Aaliyah picked her words carefully. "Even so… I'd like him to get help. If he had not told us where to look… we might have found the data we came here for, but it would have taken us a lot more time. And, right now… don't ask me why, but I kind of feel nothing is decided yet and every minute we lose weighs doubly against us." He looked the salarian in the eyes. "You're a field agent. You should get what I mean."

The STG agent did the salarian equivalent of biting his lips. "If he gets here, I'll see to it that he gets some care. But we can't send anyone for him. Not with the vorcha prowling."

After having them undergo decontamination extensively at a checkpoint, Teron led them through the small hospital to a closed door. "The doctor is here. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go back to my post." Next, he addressed Nyreen: "If you want to try and find Tusk, come talk to me later."

"We will. Thank you, Teron."

The STG agent took his leave. Then, after a moment, the door slid open, revealing a small laboratory that was impossibly tidy in light of the many devices and boxes and flasks in view. Mordin Solus sat on a tall stool in the middle of it, examining something through a microscope. A small droid hovered right next to the scientist's head, probably recording him given the lenses and microphones on it. "New notation: culture #37 also resistant to compounds targeting messenger ARN transcription. Trait absent on most common filovirii. Hypothesis: engineered into strain?" He removed the Petri dish and stored it in a small container marked with 'biohazard' on several different scripts. Over a dozen other such boxes were apparently waiting for his review on the work table.

Then he stood up and approached Shepard, giving her an examining look. "Armor model — unknown. Consistent with human designs, but gloves and helmet match asari patterns. No shield generator, but barrier present—" he did a double-take at this and blinked in surprise: "Human biotic? Only three cases on record — Jacqueline Nought, Miranda Lawson and Aaliyah Shepard. Subject matching description of late colonel." He quickly looked at her companions: "Doctor T'Soni — Missing after incident on Illium. Bounty huntress hired for protection?" Another look at Shepard, a piercing one now, then a thin smile: "Honored to meet you, colonel. Timely arrival. Working on a cure, but viral strain complex: becoming more virulent while retaining lethality." He then noticed Nyreen was injured: "Oh, my apologies. Questions can wait. That wound requires attention."

Shepard had met her share of smart people in her colorful life. Many of her exchanges with Moira O'Deorain, to name one case, had felt horribly unequal — as if her words had been expected and only fit neatly into one of many possibilities the scientist had anticipated. But Mordin Solus' motor mouth was difficult to keep pace with, and only hinted of a mind working even faster.

The salarian undid the bandaging and inspected the injury. Three deep gashes marked the spot where the enemy rounds had punched through Nyreen's armor. He frowned: "Some form of attention has already been administered?"

Sombra nodded in her asari disguise. "Yeah. I used this." She gave him her Alliance-made first aid kit.

Mordin held a nanite syrette in his hand and inspected it closely. "Remarkable. Always wanted to run tests on Alliance medical tools." He again looked at Nyreen's wound, then scanned it with his omni-tool. "Viral agent airborne, but fortunately no immediate sign of infection — no available prophylactic medications at this time. Studies have yet to yield a viable treatment." He injected a mild anesthetic, then expertly and quickly sewed the gashes with surgical thread. Glue later reinforced the seal, and an ointment was finally applied to hasten cicatrization. "Prognosis good. Wound expected to fully heal in three to four days. Too early to test for plague, though. Caution is advised."

Nyreen bowed her head in thanks. "My people told me the symptoms are rashes and coughing."

"Correct. Usual incubation period for turians — three to ten days. Isolate if these symptoms appear after then."

Liara had watched him work in respectful silence. "You say there's no treatment yet? What is the mortality rate for turians?"

"98 turian cases observed here. 84 expired, 9 recoveries, 5 still in observation. Cause of death uniform: shock from fluid loss. Symptomatic treatment measures recently adopted moderately successful. Survival rate improved during last week to 2 out of 5 cases."

"Goddess…"

'Silthea' produced the samples she had collected off the dead krogan. "We got something that could help. One krogan we had to fight wasn't wearing a mask and wasn't infected."

Mordin was immediately excited by the news. "Excellent! Very thoughtful on your part. Will commence analysis right away. No telling how many lives you helped save."

The 'asari' sneered at that. "Yeah. They can thank me in credits."

Shepard was watching from a side. "You say 'timely' so I figure you could use my help."

"Indeed. Index case reported on local atmospheric facility. Infection patterns suggest citizens near atmospheric vents exposed first. Spread of plague immediately followed by vorcha infestation. Raids only targeting areas struck by plague. Conclusion: vector spread by vorcha. Outbreak contained in Gozu, but atmospheric processors must be decontaminated to prevent further spread. Local ruler lacking assets to deal with extended health crisis."

And if the rest of Omega gets compromised, this could spread quickly… Suddenly Shepard felt cold. Outbreaks were not galaxy-spanning events. Both Alliance and Citadel doctrines were draconian for cases like those — absolute lockdown and blockade of the afflicted planet, then assisting with medicines and specialists to hold the disease at bay and develop cures. Omega warranted the planet treatment for its status as a travel and commerce hub, but imposing such measures on a place in the Terminus systems was difficult: the one thing that could unify the disparate elements there was the threat of open Citadel intervention, so the Council was hamstrung. The Alliance's own limitations lied elsewhere — the human-omnic combine lacked, despite years of efforts, both local assets and raw strength enough to operate there as well. Cerberus probably had been conceived as a partial answer to that problem, but for the moment how that had turned out was beyond her.

But the Terminus was basically the core of the galactic underworld. Criminals everywhere knew that in the lawlessness of that place lay safety, and so trade and people flowed freely between civilized territories and the Terminus systems like tainted blood between cancerous growths.

Who benefits from shutting down Omega?

She temporized: "People dismiss the vorcha as mindless savages. You don't strike me as mindless, so you surely have damned good motives to blame them for the plague."

Mordin shook his head briefly as he prepared a sample of the krogan blood for study on a clean Petri dish. "Evidence only circumstantial. No direct proof — conclusion resulting from analysis of epidemic patterns. Only one other significant event: Collector visit followed by outbreak, first case documented 19 hours after their arrival. Coincidence alone insufficient to establish link between Collectors and plague: no exceptional situations arising from previous contacts."

"But if the vorcha are actively spreading it… Maybe they were recruited to do it?" Liara shook her head. "Forgive me, this is just speculation."

"No offense taken. Likelihood of hypothesis significant, but uncertain. Proof required."

Shepard dwelt on these bits. Too many coincidences. The Blue Suns officer whom they had come to find, Nyreen's request, Aria's own demand in exchange for allowing them into Gozu… and it was possible the Collectors had co-opted the vorcha out of all parties… "The vorcha would be perfect for the job. No one suspects them and they're immune to almost everything there is."

Liara recalled Mordin had mentioned earlier: "You say the strain is becoming more virulent as if that was strange."

"Life tends towards balance. For instance: parasites and hosts compete to avoid being out-evolved into extinction. Now, infectious agent — filovirus, but likely extensively engineered. Normal filovirii primitive, for outbreaks lethal but limited: virus mutates itself to a less deadly form, to spread further before killing its host. Not this strain. Recent variants greatly more infectious and resilient while only slightly less lethal. Behavior not naturally occurring. Hypothesis: virus designed to self-tune into more efficient biological weapon? Prospective project complexity — extreme." The salarian put the blood sample under the scope.

The young asari was not hesitant anymore. "This is an experiment. Someone is observing."

After a few moments, Mordin stood up. "Hypothesis likely correct. Sample contains both viral particles and antibodies. Must study this particular strain."

Shepard felt cold again. "This krogan was… vaccinated?"

Author's note: as usual, kudos goes to brokenLifeCycle and kyro2009 for taking their time to proofread my stuff.