Chapter Five
Nos-Astran Sunset
Armali Coast, Thessia
When she stretched her arms above her head, Liara's joints creaked in a manner that was both satisfying and disturbing. A weary sigh escaped her lips as she lowered them again. The haptic interface laid out in front of her suddenly seemed unfamiliar and uninviting. Eventually Liara realised that she was staring at her workstation with an expression akin to contempt. As soon as she was conscious of it, she quickly composed her features.
The misgiving, however, lingered. It seemed an eternity ago - that moment she had made the decision to take control of the Shadow Broker's operation. She'd had only seconds to consider the ramifications before deciding, with the Reaper's arrival imminent, that it was a necessary sacrifice. While a part of her had known all along what it would mean to be shackled to the network, the reality was something altogether different. Being the Shadow Broker had evolved to define her existence. Now, more than ever, it was not something she could simply walk away from. In the fractured and volatile post-war climate, the Broker's network was critical. It was the difference between life and death for millions of individuals. It was a strange feeling, one Liara continued to have difficultly reconciling with her desire to simply live.
It had never been feasible for her to continue to operate the Network alone. She had built a small team around her. Feron, the drell once been paid to betray her, had since proven to be exceptionally loyal. And from their remote location in one of the farthest corners of Earth, Hannah Shepard and Pericles Macklin brought with them a wealth of experience. This brought her some freedom, but her team still looked to her for leadership. It was that responsibility which weighed more heavily with each passing day.
Liara knew that she had changed a great deal in just a handful of years. She had long since ceased to be the shy archaeologist who had spent fifty years studying Prothean ruins, content with her own company. Her innocence and naivety had been brutally stripped away, replaced by an iron resolve to find peace – whether that be through defeating the Reapers, or restoring balance to the Galaxy. Given the complexity of the task they now faced, there was the danger that she would simply become a slave to the greater good. Spending fifty years as the Shadow Broker seemed an eternity, a life she did not want to embrace. The one thing she did want to embrace was a peaceful life with the human she loved. She desperately wanted the time to be idle. To have the most pressing decision in her day be whether to have red or white wine with her meal.
Before she could lose herself to her thoughts, Liara caught sight of an incoming vid call. It was Hannah Shepard calling to check in before her shift started. Despite the fact that she could now rest, Liara could not summon a smile when Hannah's face materialised on screen.
{You look like shit, Liara,} Hannah commented immediately.
Hannah always noticed such things. The elder Shepard was annoyingly perceptive in ways that her daughter was not. And she was prepared to be blunt.
"I am fine," Liara replied, trying to keep the irritation from her voice. It was not directed at Hannah, but rather at herself for letting her fatigue show. "It has been a…tense day. Our informant at Alliance HQ was over two hours late with her report."
{Captain Whitehead?} Hannah asked in a concerned voice.
Liara nodded in response. She had always preferred to keep personal names out of dispatches. It was easier that way. However, Susannah Whitehead had been put forward by Admiral Anderson himself. Liara had vetted the young woman's background. Despite the recommendation, and their desperate need for agents within the Alliance, Liara had suspected from the outset that subterfuge would not come easily to the young combat veteran. While the Alliance Captain was eager to do whatever she could to help, she was no spy.
{Is she fully aware of the risks she is taking?} Hannah asked quietly.
It was the sort of concern voiced by a superior officer, one who truly cared about those under her command. Liara had long since learned that there was no place for such concern in the world of information brokering. And especially not at the very top, within an organisation that had always been ruthlessly dedicated to the pursuit of information at any cost. It was precisely the reason why she avoided knowing her agents on a personal level.
Hannah continued, {If she is caught, the Alliance won't simply court-martial her and lock her up. The regime in charge now…they will execute her, but not before torturing her to uncover every shred of information she has.}
"And billions will die if the Galaxy goes to War," Liara replied swiftly. Her intent was not to be callous, merely realistic. "If we can avoid that eventuality, then it will be worth sacrificing a few lives to save the many. Our agent is prepared to take that risk."
{It doesn't make our role any easier though, does it?} Hannah asked thoughtfully. {I thought my days of sending young people to their deaths were over. Yet here I am, controlling people's lives with the push of a button.}
Liara tried to keep her own emotions from betraying her. She had been doing this for so long she had become desensitised to the reality of the Broker role. It truly had become, as Hannah said, just pushing a button. She felt divorced from the individual on the other end. And she had placed that same burden on her bondmate's mother.
A sudden thought struck her. "Hannah…I should have said this a long time ago, but I am undeniably grateful to both you and Mr Macklin for your support with the Network. Without your support, and Feron's, I would have long since collapsed under the strain.
{Thank you, Liara. We are both honoured to do our part.} Hannah inclined her head gracefully. {Although, having experienced this glimpse of what you do, I am in awe that you manged to run the network single-handedly throughout the War.}
"To tell the truth," Liara drew in a small breath. "I am not sure how I managed it. I think…the War pushed us all to do the impossible, to operate beyond the realms of physical capability. I look back and I cannot believe that, in the midst of it all, Evan and I somehow found the time to be miserable apart."
{Shit, that kid always did pine with the best of them!}, Hannah laughed
Liara joined in by allowing herself a small smile. She was grateful to be able to take her thoughts to a lighter subject and feel relief that her days of brooding over Shepard were long beyond her. Looking back now, the whole ordeal seemed ridiculous in the extreme. They had never stopped loving one another, surely that ought to have been the only truth that mattered? The smile was suddenly marred by the urge to yawn. Liara fought it, but eventually she was forced to give in. Placing her hand over her mouth did nothing to disguise it.
{Right, we should keep the handover short as you look like you need to hit your rack,} Hannah continued purposefully. {I know you couldn't agree to Feron's request to meet him in person - travelling to Illium isn't something I would recommend at the best of times – did you decide who to send?}
Liara inclined her head. "Yes, there was really only one choice for a courier I trust implicitly. Samara is already en route."
Hannah looked surprised. {Despite the risk of her being recognised?}
"I have every confidence in Samara's ability to be discreet," Liara replied. "Although to tell the truth, I did weigh up whether retrieving the data packet was essential. Feron noted that it was of personal importance to me, not of any significance to our wider work. At times like these, we must focus-"
{Don't even start, Liara,} Hannah interrupted. {Personal importance to you makes it all the more essential. Now more than ever you can't forget about yourself. You owe it to yourself to bring this mystery to conclusion and finally uncover what that data packet contains – good or bad.}
Liara bit her lip for a moment, then nodded curtly. It was not a discussion that she wanted to delve into, especially not when they had more pressing matters at hand. In six hours, a squad from Normandy would be hitting Virmire. It was undoubtedly the toughest target that Miranda, Jack and their crew had hit to date. However, Liara's concern for her friends was tempered by the fact that she had been able to send back-up. A part of her wished she could have been on board for the reunion - to welcome Garrus and Tali back on board the Normandy herself – but she consoled herself with the knowledge that she had sent the best.
{Is Evie still threatening to run off and re-join the Normandy?} Hannah asked.
"Every day," Liara replied with a sigh. "It is difficult for her. She believes that she is trapped on the fringes of the action, when in fact the political battle that we are fighting is just as important, if not more important than the conflict that the Normandy and her crew are waging."
Hannah shook her head. {You'll be hard pressed to make a politician out of my daughter.}
Although it was meant to be a wistful, throwaway comment, Liara could not summon a laugh in response. Nor did she want to unduly worry Hannah, even though the human woman would have already known that the fate of the Galaxy depended on her daughter's ability to become a politician.
{I've got things from here, Liara. Promise me you'll get some rest?}
Liara inclined her head, but the promise would not leave her lips. There was always more work to be done.
However, as soon as the call ended Liara gave into yet another yawn. It was past time to accept that she was finished for the day. With a determined movement, she turned her back on the Broker console. With each step carrying her further away, she felt the weight lift from her shoulders.
When she emerged from the room, she found herself bathed in a warm, golden light. The late afternoon sun filtered through tall windows to her left. Despite her fatigue, Liara felt drawn towards it. She threw open the window with a satisfying gesture. A light breeze immediately gusted against her face, carrying with it an all too familiar smell.
The tang of salt carried by a gentle breeze was one of Liara's favourite memories from childhood. Just a gentle whiff and she would be transported back, decades into the past. If she closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath, she could almost hear her own childish voice raised in delight as she ran towards the beach. She could even hear Shiala just behind her, admonishing her to slow down. Ever the obedient child, Liara would of course. Waiting with impatient excitement while her tutor caught up with her. It was only years later that Liara realised that Shiala had simply been humouring her by pretending to be so slow.
It was difficult to open her eyes again. Not only had she enjoyed being lost in those memories, her eyelids felt as though they had leaden weights keeping them down. At that point she realised how tired she was. Even the cool breeze at her face was not enough to keep her awake.
She made it as far as the suite of rooms she shared with Shepard. A sofa in the sitting room looked tantalisingly soft. As she sat first, then folded her legs up beneath her, she told herself it would just be for a few minutes. Long enough to rest her eyes and no more.
Liara was asleep long before she could remind herself to get up again.
London, Earth
As she lifted her hand to hang her coat on the rack in the hall, Susannah was unnerved to see a visible tremble. She quickly placed the coat where it belonged and clutched her hand to her chest. That movement only confirmed that her heart was beating erratically.
Get a grip, she berated herself.
She allowed herself a few moments to stop in the hallway and draw in a few deep breaths to calm herself. Her fear was entirely justified. After all, she had just dropped a microdrive containing a substantial amount of classified Alliance data into an innocuous planter in a rubbish ridden park in Shoreditch. For the entire journey home, it felt as though she had been holding her breath. Questions had raced through her mind. Had she been discreet enough? What if someone stopped her and asked what she was even doing in Shoreditch when she worked on the other side of the city? Every fellow commuter was an informant, waiting to rat her out. Now, even within her own home, she felt as though she were being watched. Susannah thought that being an informant would get easier with time. Instead each drop was more fraught with tension than the last.
She heard a voice call out from the kitchen. "What's for dinner?"
Susannah allowed a wave of indignation to wash over her, masking her fear. She marched into the kitchen and found Lucy seated at the table, an array of folders and datapads spread out in front of her. Lucy was still tapping away at the keyboard on her personal computer, but she did cast a quick glance in Susannah's direction.
"Well, what are we having?"
"I've just walked in the door and you're asking me that question?" Susannah dumped her bag on the table, earning a glare from her wife. She deposited a kiss atop Lucy's head as an apology. "You're the one working from home today."
"I'm working from home because this is a time critical project!" Lucy pointed out, waving her hands at the array of materials on the table, as though that somehow explained everything. "It's the second anniversary of V-Day in less than a month, and the final schedule for the memorial event is due tomorrow."
Susannah picked up one of the datapads and idly began scrolling through the content. It was a gallery of media content – wallscreen ads, moving posters for display on one of the gigantic billboards that seemed to spring up like weeds around London. The images were as bombastic as she might have expected from the Alliance – heroic, determined looking men and women, all beautiful and young. They stood victorious in the ruins of their cities, dead Reaper forces in the mud beneath their boots. As Susannah scrolled, she was struck by key omissions across all of the content.
"These images aren't very accurate," she offered up.
Lucy stopped typing and looked up with a small shrug. "Yeah I realise the models are all a little too pretty – but that's what the brass wanted. It's doubling as a recruitment campaign. Apparently people are more likely to join up if everyone is beautiful. Go figure."
"Well, there is that…" Susannah paused for a moment, asking herself why Lucy couldn't see what the problem was. "But what about the fact that they're all human?"
A frowned marred her wife's forehead. "What do you mean 'they're all human?' What's the problem with that? We're the Alliance, not the bloody Council."
"Luce, you do remember that there were other races on the ground in London? Hammer was a pan-galactic strike force. This campaign makes it look as though the Alliance were the only ones making the final push."
Lucy stared hard at the image on the screen and her frown intensified. "Suze, you were lying unconscious in a hospital at the time. I was there. Humanity did make the final push on Earth. The other races were off protecting their own worlds, their own interests. If not for the Alliance, we'd all be either dead or turned into husks by now."
The fears that had preoccupied her thoughts moments earlier disappeared, replaced by an entirely new fear. Susannah dropped to one knee in front of Lucy and picked up her hands. She desperately searched her wife's face for some hint that she was simple making a joke in very poor taste. However, she found only disbelief that her own views could be so wrong.
"Luce?"
With an impatient tug, Lucy freed her hands from Susannah's grip. She feverishly resumed typing for a few moments, before stopping to scrub at her temples.
"Are you okay?" Susannah asked, concerned when Lucy squeezed her eyes shut.
"No, you've given me a bloody headache with all your nonsense!" Lucy replied angrily.
"Want me to make dinner?" Susannah offered in consolation.
Lucy furiously shook her head. "I'm finishing this up, then I'm going to bed. You can make dinner for yourself!"
It was difficult for Susannah to simply stand up and walk away, but the acrimony in Lucy's voice unnerved her. She remained standing in the doorway, hoping for Lucy to turn and apologise but the apology never came. Lucy continued working, pausing only to lower her head into her hands and mutter angrily about her headache.
Illium, Tasale System
Nos Astra was a city of light and movement. Skycars created electric trails through the air so thick that it looked as though you could walk on them. Even the buildings seemed to be in competition with their neighbours to be brighter and more garish. And it was a city of height. Towering skyscrapers, connected by walkways and sky bridges, soared upwards to escape the stifling heat at surface level. It thrummed with an exciting, almost frenetic energy born of trade and wealth. In the wake of the war, vast amounts of credits were passing through the city. With an abundance of money to rebuild, Nos Astra was swiftly being restored to its pre-war brilliance.
Having never visited Illium before, Myke enjoyed comparing it with her newly expanded horizons. Aside from the pace of life, it was nothing like Omega. It was clean for a start. She preferred it to Thessia, especially as she could see no evidence of over-zealous security or martial law. It was approaching late evening, and the populace did not seem to be hurrying off the streets. Samara had explained that temperatures rose uncomfortably during the middle of the day and the evenings were a chance for some cool respite.
The kiosks in the open-air market were still doing brisk business, and Myke could hear an inviting, pulsing beat coming from the door of a bar on the level above. Her gaze roamed over the kiosks, which seemed to be selling everything from armour upgrades to tropical fish. She caught herself staring like a giddy tourist. In took some effort for her to affect an expression of nonchalance. After all, this was not a sight-seeing excursion. They were on Illium on official business – gawping at everything was guaranteed to earn Samara's wrath.
Thankfully, the justicar was not paying her any attention as they threaded their way through the market. Myke followed obediently, although it was difficult not to feel a sense of importance. Although Samara was intimidatingly wise and powerful, Myke had her experience growing up on Omega and the street cred to go with it. She was their eyes and ears – constantly scanning the crowd for signs of trouble, doing her best to look threatening when anyone remotely shifty looking pressed too close to them. She had already stared down a volus who was trying to get their attention – suspecting him of trying to sell them drugs. The squat figure had quickly retreated to the other side of his kiosk. Pleased with herself, she continued to watch Samara's back. Although the justicar had long since ceased to wear her distinctive armour in favour of drab commando leathers, her imposing presence ensured that she always stood out in a crowd. Myke had offered tips on blending in and had received only an unimpressed glower in response.
Almost every race was represented in Nos Astra's bustling market. Although the majority were asari, there were turians, salarians, elcor, hanar and volus. She searched for humans, but to her surprise found relatively few. This was disappointing. She knew from experience that humans were the most interesting race.
"I thought there were more humans on Ilium," Myke commented as they finally exited the market, moving into a more secluded side street.
"There were," Samara replied, without looking back. "Many have chosen to leave."
"Why? Myke pressed. "Are they being persecuted?"
"The policies of the human government are placing undue scrutiny on humans – especially in the wake of their decision to withdraw from the Council," Samara explained patiently.
Myke frowned. "But if people don't support their government, surely they would be welcome elsewhere?"
Samara finally slowed her pace and looked back over her shoulder. "I believe that the Alliance wishes to keep their citizens close. To this effect, they are deliberately inciting hatred between the races to ensure that they return to human-controlled worlds for safety."
"That's fucking stupid," was Myke's delicate assessment of the whole situation.
"Indeed," Samara added sagely. Although her focus returning to their route, she continued in a quiet voice, "Are you able to walk without drawing undue attention to us?"
"What? I'm not drawing attention!" Myke protested in an indignant whisper. She scrambled to catch up. "What am I doing?"
"You are strutting," Samara stated in a matter-of-fact tone. "Not to mention trying to unnerve innocent civilians with your posturing. That volus was simply trying to get you to sample his perfume. Perhaps he thought that you would benefit from wearing a pleasant scent?"
"I smell fine!" Myke muttered testily.
"His only crime was that he was falsely representing his wares as authentically asari, when in fact they were imitation fragrances produced from hanar skin secretions."
Myke made a face of disgust. "I really didn't need to know that. Okay, I'll admit, maybe I'm strutting a little…but I'm excited! This is Illium, home of some of the best information brokers in the business, nearly everything is legal here, can I try-"
"You can try not to be excited," Samara interrupted tersely, not interested in whatever question Myke had. "We are here for a single purpose. If you jeopardise this, then you will find your presence on such missions in the future to be redundant."
"Gotcha," Myke added quickly. As irritating as it often was to hang out with Samara, there were far worse places to be. Like being trapped on the Zephyr Coast with Matriarch Calis, who was even stricter than Samara and nowhere near as interesting. "Although, why are we walking?" Walking wasn't exactly her favourite pastime. She preferred sitting. "Can't we just take-"
Samara's answering glare was more than enough for Myke to abandon her question. Myke did her best not to 'strut' as she followed obediently. It was difficult. She could not forget the fact that she was on an official mission, given to them by Liara herself, to retrieve sensitive information. Myke had absolutely no idea what the sensitive information was. Samara was always deliberately cagey with the details. 'For your own safety' was the only explanation she ever received. Myke liked to think that it was in case she was tortured if they were ever captured. In reality she knew that Samara simply did not trust her not to let the details slip.
The side street eventually became a sky bridge linking two skyscrapers. Myke could not stop staring through the transparent barriers. Having grown up somewhere that was literally carved out of an asteroid, she had no fear of heights. The ground below them was lost in a haze of mist. It looked as though the skyscrapers were growing organically, surrounded by well-ordered 'insects' – tiny sky cars and larger transports zipping to their destinations.
The exhilaration made the journey seem almost effortlessly short, even though Myke's legs eventually told her that they had been walking for far too long. So long in fact, that she was on the verge of complaining even though she knew how futile that was. Thankfully, it looked as though they were nearing their destination. Samara led them into a non-descript building situated on the edge of a plaza that looked much the same as any of the other commercial buildings they had passed, complete with a store front at street level. Samara walked up to the turian shopkeeper, who at first appeared to ignore them.
"I would like to buy a watch…one of your models with an authentic Swiss movement."
The shopkeeper peered at her through a strange pair of lenses he wore over his eyes. "Ah, a true connoisseur. If you don't mind stepping into the back room?"
"What is a watch?" Myke whispered as Samara led them through the door he had indicated.
Predictably, she did not receive a reply. They came to a set of stairs which, contrary to expectations, led downwards. They emerged in front of a solid door which would have been more at home on a ship than in the basement of a shop. Myke tried to remain still as they were scanned, but it was difficult to stop fidgeting as she alternated between standing with her arms clasped behind her back, or with them at her sides. Eventually she went with one hand propped on her hip.
The suspense was reaching a high point, when finally, the door opened. The space beyond was not the cramped, dark room Myke had expected to find. Instead they walked into an expansive room with a panoramic vista of Nos Astra's skyline. The room was light, decorated in white with hints of blue, and filled with plants.
"Samara! Please come in," a nearby voice greeted them.
Myke frowned, trying to place the strange element in the speaker's voice. However, all was revealed when they stepped around a voluminous plant to find a drell perched on a long, curving sofa.
"Holy shit, you're a drell!" The words burst out of Myke's mouth before she could stop them.
It was only when she physically felt Samara's ire radiating out, that she realised she ought to have remained silent. However, the words were out and there was nothing she could do to take them back. Far from being offended, the drell merely seemed amused. He sprang lightly to his feet, moving with every bit of the precision and grace Myke had expected from his race. Up close, he was even more fascinating. Myke could not take her eyes away from him.
"And you must be Mycea Kasos, Samara's assistant." He bowed in greeting and Myke beamed. "I am Feron."
Myke's eyes boggled. "You're the Feron? As in the Feron who helped Shepard and Liara take down the Shadow Broker?"
He inclined his head graciously. "I do not recall doing much helping while I was strapped to a chair, but yes, I am that Feron."
Myke glanced across to Samara. "It's Feron!"
"Feron and I are already acquainted." It was the point at which Samara would have rolled her eyes if she were given to such trivial expressions. She then delivered one of her trademark glares in Myke's direction. A simple expression that said a great many things – but mostly it meant that Myke needed to stop talking. Samara then turned her attention to the drell. "In your last message you stressed that it was important that someone came in person. You will understand that Liara could not risk travelling to Illium."
"Does she always get straight to business?" Feron asked Myke in a convivial tone. He then looked back and forth between them. Myke was still beaming, while Samara wore a mask of icy calm. "Can I get anyone a drink?"
"Yes please!"
"No."
Myke and Samara replied at the same time. In the wake of their answers, Myke did not dare to look at the justicar. Instead she inwardly berated herself for replying without thinking. The answer should have been no. They were here on business, not pleasure. Yet Feron was already striding across the room towards an invitingly well-stocked bar.
"What can I get you, Mycea?" he turned to ask, quick and light on his feet. "I'm thinking…a Nos Astran sunset?"
"I don't know what that is," Myke replied, with the little voice in her head screaming at her to change her mind. Unfortunately, the desire to try a Nos Astran sunset was overwhelming. "But it sounds great."
Feron smiled – at least Myke thought it was a smile – and busied himself at the bar. Myke was left to let her gaze wander over the apartment – anything to avoid looking at Samara. Although it was impossible not to feel the ire radiating from the justicar. In addition to the windows giving an almost complete three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view, Myke realised that a section of the floor was transparent. Continuing to ignore Samara, she moved closer. To her delight, it offered an uninterrupted view straight down into the clouds below. She gingerly stepped onto the floor – first with one foot then the other. When she was satisfied that it was not about to give way beneath her feet, she moved to the centre. It was undeniably thrilling, and more than made up for the post-visit lecture that she would certainly receive.
"This place is amazing," she called across to Feron. "Do you live here?"
"Regrettably not," the drell returned, carrying a large drink which did actually resemble a sunset. "I have merely appropriated it for this meeting. Although -" he continued, looking as though he was taking it in the for the first time - "It does offer some potential."
He handed the drink to Myke and the two of them sat on the sofa. Both adopted similar languorous poses. Samara was left standing like a supplicant. Myke tried the cocktail and found the Nos Astran sunset to be every bit as delicious as it looked.
"So, down to business. You may be aware of the fact that several of my agents have been working on this mystery for close to a year."
"You might need new agents," Myke commented absently, before taking another slurp of her drink. It was really good.
The drell let out a loud chortle. "I can tell why Samara keeps you close." He looked up at Samara, whose expression indicated that she did not share his mirth. "This one is fantastic. Anyway, I digress, since the first signal was detected on the edge of Council Space, my agents have tracked it across the Galaxy. The search finally ended with the discovery of a data device which we could not activate. Analysis revealed that it is coded to only to only work for the T'Soni family. It cannot be remotely uploaded, hence needing to make the exchange in person."
With an exaggerated flourish, Feron withdrew a nondescript device from his coat pocket. He extended it towards Myke, who responded as anyone would in reaching out to receive it. She felt rather than heard the curt command from Samara and withdrew her hand with a sheepish grin.
"I think you'd better give it to Samara," Myke admitted. "I don't have the best track record for safekeeping valuable items."
"You appear to have the most pockets, but if you insist."
Myke grinned at that observation even as Feron instead the device to Samara, who never appeared to have pockets in her garments. Much to Myke's surprise, the data device vanished almost immediately into a pocket that she had never noticed in Samara's suit.
Feron continued. "There is every indication that this information originated within the T'Soni family. My speculations are that Benezia left a trail for her daughter to follow, leading where, I do not know-"
"Benezia T'Soni?" Myke knew very little of the Matriarch, other than scraps of information about her infamous liaison with Saren and her tragic death in the arms of her daughter. "Whew, I'm glad I'm not the one carrying that."
"Indeed," Feron commented in a dry voice. "Several agents were lost in the pursuit of this information."
Bloody hell, Myke's eyes bulged, but she managed to rein in what Samara would regard as unnecessary commentary.
"But this seems to be the final piece in the puzzle. I entrust it to you." Feron extended both hands, palm up, towards Samara. The gesture was almost one of relief, as though a burden was finally lifted. "Whatever it contains, I believe that Liara will want to examine it as soon as possible.." Feron's voice trailed off as he looked at his chrono, "Unfortunately, I must ask you to make haste with your exit. Time and information are everything on Illium. From the moment you arrived it has only been a matter of time before the valuable information that the last justicar has been once again sighted on Illium is available for purchase. I have created a narrow window for you. If you'll step this way."
From that moment, everything happened at pace. One moment Myke was comfortably position on the sofa sipping her cocktail, the next she was following Samara towards an external door. For a horrible moment, Myke thought it opened directly into thin air. However, when Feron opened it, there was a balcony beyond. As though on cue, a sky car swept into position, and the door opened to receive them.
Feron relieved Myke of her empty glass. "Mycea Kasos, it was a true pleasure. I hope that I have the opportunity to spend more time with you in the future. I would posit that such time would not be wasted."
"I assure you, this one can waste time like you would never believe," Samara added as she stepped through the door.
Myke was too surprised to say anything, and instead gave Feron a jovial wave. She followed Samara into the waiting skycar. No sooner had the door closed, the car accelerated to join one of the streams of traffic. There were many thoughts competing for attention in her head. Of course, she was fascinated by what might be on the data device Samara now carried, and smug in the satisfaction that she had met the Feron. But what won out over all of the other thoughts, was the distinct note of fondness that she had picked up in Samara's voice. She did not comment on it, knowing that Samara would prefer she did not. Instead she sat looking out of the window with a warm glow in her chest.
Thessia
The landscape stretches flat in every direction. She looks over her shoulder, spins in place. Nothing. It is sparse, desolate, save for a few stunted trees that persevere under the bright sun. However, when she lifts her face skywards, she finds no warmth in its rays.
Liara takes a step. The dry earth crunches beneath her boot. It feels familiar somehow, but she cannot imagine why she would have visited such a place. There is nothing here for her. No reason why anyone would be here.
There's no warning, no footsteps crunching, other than her own senses telling her that someone is watching her. Liara spins again. She gasps to find a solitary figure standing in front of her where moments before there had been nothing. There was no way that the individual could have approached without being seen short of having a tactical cloak.
Recognition comes instantly. She can never forget the face of a monster. It makes Liara sick to recognise how much the features resemble her own. She had not noticed it before, because she was not looking for it. Now it is all she can see.
Isini Aegir…no, Isini T'Soni, tilts back her head and laughs. "I can tell you're pleased to see me, little sister."
Liara shakes her head. This is not happening. "You are dead. You died on Intai'sei!"
With impossible speed, Isini surges forward. One moment she is metres away, the next they are standing toe to toe. Before Liara can react, Isini's hand snaps forward. Vice-like fingers tighten around her neck. She feels fingernails dig into her skin. There is a sharp pain as they pierce her skin.
"The life you have should have been mine!" Isini growls. "I was the first-born of Matriarch Benezia! And instead my simpering little sister has usurped my place…the estate that should have been mine!"
"I know the horrors you lived, Isini," Liara gasps. "Our mother was wrong…in sending you away…"
"Do not shift the blame to her!" Isini scowls. "You were the one who could have saved me, yet you chose to judge me without trial!"
Liara's own fingers scrabble desperately against Isini's, but her older sister's strength is supernaturally all-consuming. She wants to refute her sister's accusations. Isini's only actions in life were to try and destroy her and those she loved. However, she is left helpless to do anything other than flail pathetically.
Liara is forced to gasp for air. "Please! I cannot…breathe!"
Isini smirks as she presses closer. "Is this not a dream?"
"What…do you…want?"
"You ripped out my heart, little sister. I want merely to return the favour."
Liara's eyes widen in the split second that Isini draws her arm back. Then her hand darts forward in a savage thrusting motion and there is a searing pain in her chest. She feels Isini's hand rip through bone and tissue. A scream emerges only as a whimper, as she chokes on the blood bubbling from her lips.
The scream was still on her lips as her eyes opened. Her hand went to her chest to find it mercifully intact, although her heart was doing its best to break free with a repetitive thud. Liara found herself lying on the couch where she had fallen asleep. Late afternoon sun was filtering through the windows, creating golden stripes on the floor. Everything was cast in a warm glow. It should have made her feel safe, but Aegir's words continued to taunt her.
Footsteps scurried across the floor, then Shepard was there. Her bondmate knelt beside the couch with a concerned expression on her face. "Liara…babe, it was just a dream."
She shook her head insistently. What she had just experienced definitely did not deserve to be called a 'dream.'
With a touch that was exquisitely tender, Shepard stroked Liara's face – fingertips trailing over her forehead and cheeks – chasing away the nightmare. When Liara made a move to sit, Shepard wrapped an arm around her back and supported her. It was hardly necessary - she'd merely been asleep, not ill – but she appreciated their close proximity.
"I am fine…" Liara began.
She turned to look at Shepard. Her bondmate's expression laid everything out in plain sight – concern, patience…and love. Liara's stomach swooped at the combination. She could still remember a time, not so long ago, when Shepard concealed her feelings behind an impenetrable mask. A mask so perfect that Liara thought the human woman loathed her. Now, to see everything laid open with such heartfelt honesty, Liara sometimes wondered whether her memory had played tricks on her.
"You're fine?" Shepard was clearly unsatisfied with Liara's pithy answer. "What's wrong, really?"
"The mantle of the Shadow Broker is not sitting as easily as it once did," Liara offered. With her honesty, she felt the weight lift from her shoulders. "And I found little respite in sleep. My sister's memory haunts me, even after all this time."
"You dreamt of Aegir?" Shepard sounded surprised at first, then her eyes widened slightly. "Liara…this isn't the first time you've had this nightmare is it? You've just been hiding it from me."
Liara instinctively and guiltily lowered her gaze. This was only the third time that she had experienced this nightmare, but each time it had felt eerily real. Her fingers trailed against the skin of her neck, fully expecting to find marks left by her sister's nails. She found only smooth, unbroken skin. When she was able to meet her bondmate's gaze, she saw only the same resolute patience as before. She simply offered up a nod in response to Shepard's question.
"Why now?" Shepard asked gently, clearly wanting to understand so that she could help in some way. "Aegir has been dead for over two years."
"I do not know," Liara replied carefully. "Perhaps it is due to stress, and my subconscious is free to roam the depths of my nightmares. Although I thought I had laid her memory to rest following my conversations with Samara – when she reassured me that I did not need to fear becoming Ardat-Yakshi. Isini never stalked my nightmares before, not in the same way that…"
Her voice trailed off as she stared at Shepard. Even now, those dark days when she had believed that Shepard was dead in the aftermath of the War continued were pictured clearly in her mind. They ought to have been the memories haunting her nightmares, not those of a dead sister who had been barely known to her.
"Hey, I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere." Shepard needed no further hints as to the rest of the sentence. After all, she had lived her own nightmare during that time. She rose to her feet, holding out her hands in invitation. "I have the perfect remedy for stress."
Liara followed without protest as Shepard led the way, their fingers comfortably entwined. It was only when they emerged from the house, into the outside air, that she realised the house itself had been contributing to her fatigue. When trying to remember how long it had been since she had last stepped outside, Liara came up blank. The day before yesterday? she thought, trying to convince herself that she was right and she had only spent two days hiding from the world. A nagging feeling at the back of her mind reminded her that it had been longer.
They left the courtyard garden behind them, as Shepard led her towards the sea. The memories that Liara had touched on earlier, of running with the wind against her crests, came back to her. Without entirely realising it, she moved into a brisk walk. The dry grass crunched beneath her feet. Eventually she was moving ahead of Shepard, and she had to disentangle their fingers lest she start to drag her bondmate behind her. With that anchor gone, Liara broke into a run.
Those first movements felt awkward. Her entire body felt leaden, as though her limbs were heavy and uncooperative. But each step brought more life and feeling back into her body. She remembered the way that running was supposed to feel – not in the purposeful way that an adult ran, but the freedom and joy of a child's almost uncontrolled motion. Without realising it, a grin had spread across her face. In those moments, the stress and the fear were pushed from her mind. There was nothing other than the simple act of running towards the sea. No concerns, except for the voice behind her admonishing her to slow down.
"Hey! You're seriously going to make me run?" Shepard called out, her voice already sounding distant.
Liara ignored the protest, knowing full well that Shepard was capable of running all day if she wished. Sure enough, she soon heard grass crunching behind her as Shepard jogged to catch up.
"You know, I had anticipated a gentle stroll along the beach," Shepard pointed out. "Not another workout."
Liara glanced across at her somewhat irritating bondmate. She had no idea why Shepard was complaining when she appeared to be expending no effort whatsoever to maintain a graceful, loping gait. In contrast, she could already feel a slight constriction in her chest indicating that she was desperately out of shape. Hardly a surprise, Liara thought. I stare at a screen for most of the day.
She slowed her pace before Shepard could realise just how taxing the short sprint had been. No doubt Shepard would take great delight in telling Shiala. Her old mentor would then have her out running laps of the estate. Perhaps it was what she needed, but Liara wanted to decide that for herself.
Their run had taken them to the edge of a small copse of eris trees. Liara had spent many hours playing there as a child – although of course the trees seemed smaller now. It was the wrong season for the trees to be in bloom, but their gnarled, twisted shapes were beautiful all the same. The sun's dying rays made everything wonderfully golden.
Liara walked up to the nearest tree. She felt compelled to reach out and place her palm against the craggy surface, something she remembered doing as a child. She then closed her eyes and listened to the whisper of the wind through the leaves, and the gentle rumble of the sea. Her thoughts of late, the nightmare about her sister and her reminisces of her childhood, stirred up emotions linked to her family. Amid the tumult of the War and its aftermath, she had buried them. It was in the quiet moments – like sleep or contemplation – where she had to acknowledge that her family were gone. Save for Shepard of course. She heard her bondmate's shoes crunching on the undergrowth and she felt her presence just behind her.
"I miss my father." Liara offered up the simple observation as she opened her eyes.
While Aethyta had lived a full and long life before she died, Liara felt cheated out of their time together. They should have had years to get to know one another, instead Aethyta had died during the destruction of the Citadel.
"She was a very memorable individual," Shepard replied. "I will never forgive you for making me ask her permission to be bonded to you. The two of you had a great laugh at my expense."
Liara spun to face Shepard, morose thoughts were pushed aside. She even grinned as she savoured that particular memory. "She made you work hard for her approval. I just wish she had been able to get to know you better…to know both of us better."
They slipped into a comfortable silence after that. Although Liara could not help but remember Aethyta dying in her arms on the Citadel, she did not want to dwell on the memory. She remembered her father as she had been in life - brash, delightfully crude and entirely unapologetic. Leaving Shepard to trail along behind her, Liara wandered out of the copse and closer to the sea. As she paused to stare at the view in front of her, the tall sea grass that separated the land from the beach brushed against her legs. Moments later, she felt a touch on the back of her hand. Then Shepard's fingers wrapped gently around her own. She leaned her head against Shepard's shoulder contentedly.
"Thank you for getting me out of the house," she murmured. "If you do not mind, I would like to stay here for a while."
"I'll sit with you," Shepard replied automatically. She disentangled her grip so she could peel off her jacket. With a theatrical flourish, she laid it beneath Liara. "My love?"
Liara laughed as she folded herself into a graceful sit atop Shepard's jacket. Shepard lowered herself onto the grass at Liara's side in a decidedly ungraceful fashion, flopping backwards onto her elbows as she surveyed the view.
"I know there is a hell of a lot of work in front of us in order to find peace, but I've got to say…living here makes everything that bit easier. When you spend your childhood crammed into a tin can, you develop an appreciation for nature. This is…breath-taking. I know I saw it all in vivid detail this morning when Shiala forced me to do sprints on the beach until I nearly threw up…but still, it is breath-taking. Even more so like this, with no sprinting or heaving." Shepard paused thoughtfully. "What do sprints have to do with saving the Galaxy?"
Liara smiled sympathetically. "You know full well that Shiala enjoys your suffering."
"Her and Matriarch Calis!" Shepard groaned. "They make me wish I was back in Boot."
"Yes, but then you would not have the loving attention of your bondmate…or the time to simply stare at the waves," Liara pointed out as she lay down in the grass next to Shepard.
Such time was inherently precious. The events swirling around them would soon call them back into the fray – whether it be the intensity of combat, or the equally fraught machinations of diplomacy. Liara did not want to spend this time dwelling on memories or nightmares. There was something else she would much rather be doing. At the point that she turned over to face Shepard, she was suddenly enveloped in an embrace that was both gentle and insistent at the same time. A gasp escaped her lips moments before they were crushed in a tender kiss. Shepard's hands cupped her face, thumbs brushing against her cheeks. Her mouth opened eagerly to welcome Shepard's tongue. A delicious shiver coursed down her spine when it stroked her own.
It was the kiss that pushed Liara over the edge into a desperate longing. She desperately wanted to escape the tension of her work, and to banish all thoughts of her nightmare about Isini. And she could think of no better way of doing that than losing herself in Shepard's embrace – complete with the sound of the waves crashing against the shore in the distance.
She caught Shepard's eye. "Evan, will you…"
The unnecessary question trailed off when Shepard nodded quickly in anticipation. With the pressure of Shepard's lips and body against hers, Liara could already feel the escape she desired. Even without being touched intimately, her core was burning. Shepard's lips pressed to her throat left a trail of sensation in their wake. When Shepard nudged her thighs apart, Liara ached for that contact. When Shepard's weight pressed against her core, she could not contain a loud exhale.
"I hate to interrupt proceedings, because this evening is going really…really well…" Shepard whispered breathily into Liara's ear. "But won't your commandos be watching us?"
"Asari commandos understand the meaning of the word discretion," Liara's response was impatient. She was mildly irritated that Shepard had paused, especially to make such a prudish observation.
Shepard drew back, propping herself up on her elbows as she stared down at Liara. "But how discreet? Like moving entirely out of earshot, or are they just sitting out there listening to everything?"
Liara arched one of the markings above her eyes. "Does the latter make you uncomfortable?"
"Nope. It just means I need to be exceptionally thorough – in case they gossip about my talents as a lover."
A wicked grin spread across Shepard's face and Liara finally realised that she was being mercilessly teased.
"Your talents as a lover?" A laugh escaped Liara's lips as she imagined the places she could take this conversation. The commandos in her personal detail had served House T'Soni for centuries, there was no danger that they would engage in something so mundane as gossip – although her bondmate did not know that. She reached up and trailed her fingers along Shepard's jawline. The joy she felt was effusive. "Evan, my commandos are not the ones who need convincing of those talents. I believe that it is I who will require a significant amount of convincing…and you are very right, you will need to be thorough."
The brief interlude over, Shepard returned her attentions to Liara's body with renewed urgency. Deft fingers worked at the fastenings on her jacket before the garment was peeled open. With movements that were both rough and loving at the same time, Shepard yanked up Liara's vest to access her bra and the delicate skin beneath. With the clothing pushed and nudged out of the way, Shepard sat back on her haunches with an appreciative expression.
"I could never have enough of this sight," she whispered, watching the play of her own fingers as she trailed them across Liara's breasts. "You, Liara T'Soni, are the most breath-taking view of all."
Shepard's touch ignited a fire in its wake. Liara squirmed and shivered beneath it, all the while staring up at the sight of her bondmate framed in the late sun's golden rays.
Her hand twitched out and grasped the hem of Shepard's t-shirt. "You too."
Without hesitation, Shepard stripped off her t-shirt and tossed it to one side. She was not wearing a bra. Liara marvelled at her marine's chiselled frame, muscles rippling as she moved. Then she tugged Shepard downwards, savouring the intense sensations as their bare skin touched and moulded together.
Liara wrapped one hand around the back of Shepard's neck and applied gentle pressure to tilt her head to one side.
"Embrace Eternity!" she whispered fiercely into Shepard's ear.
The teasing had been redundant, there was never any doubt as to Shepard's talents as a lover. And with the meld, she knew exactly what Liara needed – the depth of each stroke, when to speed up or slow down. When to grind her palm against Liara's core in just the right way. At another time Liara might have drawn out the delicious sensations that gripped her body, but she desperately needed to feel her climax washing over her to the point where there was nothing outside of the space she shared with Shepard. Nor did she want to try to silence the shuddering gasp from her lips as her azure trembled around Shepard's fingers.
With the sweat cooling between her breasts, Liara lay on her back and stared up at the rapidly darkening sky with a contented smile on her face. In that moment – flushed with satisfaction and still present ebb of pleasure - there was nothing to worry about.
Well, except for the sand in her crests but that was one problem she could overlook.