A/N: To make up for the delay between chapters, here is a bumper offering for you.

Please note, there is a warning for non-con elements in this chapter - there is nothing explicit.

Chapter Seven

Bleeding Hearts

Vancouver, Earth

For a moment, Fleet Admiral Hans Kessler had the urge to roar with frustrated fury. It was pure petulance - like a small child screwing up its face in displeasure - but his current conversation was trying his patience. He was used to speaking with subordinates who did not dare to be so open with their thoughts or accusations. Kessler stared at the figure displayed via QEC and had to draw on his vast experience to remain composed. In contrast, the righteous anger of Varek Kor'Amon was displayed openly – all four of his eyes were burning with unbridled emotion.

"You assured me that the Normandy would be dealt with!" Varek's fury was also evident in his voice – the QEC even picked up flecks of spittle flying from the batarian's mouth. "Instead, I narrowly escaped with my life. Joram Nazario is dead, along with far too many of my best troops. And my entire operation has been badly compromised to the point where it will take me months to regain our strength!"

"You have my sympathies, Varek, but we had no warning or intel and indeed no confirmation that this even was the Normandy," Kessler offered up with a shrug. "You had no doubt made many enemies in your line of work. It could have been a competing faction-"

"Your hollow words mean nothing, Admiral!" Kor'Amon interrupted savagely. "It was the Normandy. An elite crew of ex-Alliance forces led by Miranda Lawson."

"That is still speculation at this stage," Kessler replied. "Unless you have conclusive proof?"

"It was Lawson. I looked that bitch in the eyes and she fucking shot me! I assure you it was her. You need to act…otherwise our agreement is at an end and I will be searching for another employer." Kor'Amon narrowed his eyes. "I'm sure that the Council would be very interested in what I know."

"And what do you suggest I do?" Kessler asked through gritted teeth as he grasped the edge of the console in front of him. He did not take kindly to having demands made of him.

"You have your super soldier at your disposal do you not? Or is this merely another of your hollow promises?"

Kessler's grip tightened on the edge of the console. He regretted the day he had let the Batarian into his confidence. "Captain Williams is not merely a tool to solve minor problems. She has a higher purpose."

"There is no higher purpose then removing this particular enemy," Kor'Amon intoned calmly. "You will solve the problem of the Normandy, Admiral…and quickly. Or you can consider our alliance at an end."

The QEC winked out abruptly as Varek Kor'Amon terminated the contact without giving Kessler time to respond. The comms room descended into silence, broken only by the rhythmic tap of Kessler's finger against the console. It was shattered when he brought his clenched fist down on the haptic display. Immune to the violence, the display merely flickered for a moment. Behind him he heard Weston shift uncomfortably. His aide knew better than to speak without invitation, but when Kessler turned around he found a corresponding expression of contempt on Weston's face.

"That Batarian is rising above his station," Kessler muttered.

"Indeed Sir," Weston replied eagerly. "What will our response be?"

Kessler bowed his head for a moment. It irritated him to admit even to himself that Varek was right. It had been ridiculous to deny that the vessel was the Normandy. That ship's operations had long since ceased to be speculation. It was fact - and the vessel was causing him far too many problems. Without responding to Weston, Kessler palmed the door open and marched out of the comms room. He emerged into a large meeting room which occupied a prime corner location in the building. Broad windows overlooked the Alliance base in Vancouver. He crossed to the window now and looked out at the view down below. Weston joined him. The timing was perfect – movement down below immediately drew the eye. A shuttlecraft was the centre of a hive of activity, indicating that its departure was imminent. Kessler picked out one figure in particular – the tall, dark-haired woman was unmistakably Captain Ashley Williams. The marine was carrying a weapons case in each hand. Just for a moment it seemed as though she knew she were being watched as she turned and gazed up towards the window. Kessler knew that it was impossible that Williams could see him, but he had to fight the instinct to take a step back from the window. Even at this distance, she was like a coiled viper – only a split second away from violence.

"Captain Williams is being tested in the field, sir?" Weston asked incredulously.

"Yes, the committee ordered it against my better judgement," Kessler replied through gritted teeth. "While I want the Normandy and its crew of miscreants off the playing field as much as Kor'Amon does, I believe that we are rushing Williams' deployment."

"It had to happen eventually," Weston offered diplomatically.

"Well, at least we will know once and for all whether our considerable investment has paid off," Kessler agreed. He narrowed his eyes as Williams finally looked away from the window and resumed her activity. "Regardless of the investment, if our so-called super soldier does not perform to our expectations…I have no qualms about putting her down like the trained dog she is."

Armali, Thessia

Shepard readily admitted that there were positives about living on Thessia. Being surrounded by so much natural beauty was hard to beat, and she had conceded that the food was not too bad, but her favourite was the simple pleasure of living in a house. Although, the T'Soni ancestral home could hardly be labelled anything so mundane. It was easily the longest period she had spent groundside in her entire life - even including her time spent as a corpse on Alchera (very much dead), in a Catalyst-induced stasis (during which she was believed to have been dead) or as a prisoner of the Alliance (and still pretty much dead for almost everyone who cared about her).

This pleasure was tempered by the fact that she felt as though she had been relegated to the side-lines. Her days had settled into a predictable routine - lessons with Matriarch Calis, the drills with Shiala and the commandos, discussing strategy with Liara. And who could forget being continually reminded of the importance of meeting with politicians. Shepard had only met with Tevos to date, but she found the asari councillor so boring it felt like meeting several politicians.

Any change to her routine was appreciated, even if it was merely Samara and Myke returning from Ilium with their cryptic cargo. Myke could always be relied upon to make any routine less boring. After being stuck meditating with Matriarch Calis all morning, Shepard was eager for some conversation.

Predictably, she found her young asari friend in the kitchen already rummaging through the stores in search of something to eat. There was a small pile of food stuffs on the countertop already – including Myke's favourite chocolate pastries.

"Do we need to start locking our cupboards?" Shepherd greeted her young friend.

"Oof!" Myke backed out of a cupboard so quickly she banged her head. She chewed vigorously on something in her mouth before she could respond – even then, she struggled to get the words out. "Hey, Shep! You always said what's yours is mine right?"

"That was before I truly appreciated the size of your appetite," Shepard replied ruefully. "How was Ilium?"

Myke quickly swallowed her mouthful, her eyes wide with excitement. "Have you been there before? Ilium is like nothing I've ever seen. Well, I haven't seen that many places but it probably beats the ones I haven't been to before. You've been there, it's bloody fantastic right?" Of late Myke had been peppering her conversation with words picked up from Sam – most of the time she managed to use them in the right context.

"It certainly is something," Shepherd replied, humouring her friend. She had never developed much of an appreciation for Ilium – it was a city of lies and deception whereas she preferred a straight up fight. "Eternity is a little tame for my liking."

"Samara wouldn't let me go there." Myke scowled for a moment, before brightening again. "And we met Feron! The Feron – you know, the drell who helped you take down the Shadow Broker? It was all very exciting. And I was on my best behaviour despite what Samara might tell you."

"I have no doubt that you were," Shepard nodded approvingly. Of course, Samara would paint a different picture. "Is our revered Justicar meeting with Liara already?"

The 'revered Justicar' line earned a predictable snort of laughter from Myke. "She wanted to deliver the package. 'with all haste' – those were her words not mine, because I would just say 'quickly' like a normal person." As ever, Myke's words tumbled out with her natural enthusiasm. "I have no idea what it is but it seems that people have gone to a lot of trouble to bring it here so it must be something really important."

"Everything seems to be important these days," Shepherd replied in a weary voice. "No doubt Liara will want some support, but I'll catch up with you later and you can tell me all about Ilium."

Shepherd left the asari babbling enthusiastically about a cocktail. It some ways, hearing about familiar places from a new perspective was refreshing. While Shepard was well-travelled, whenever she was visiting somewhere it always felt as though she had a job to do. It was never a case of going somewhere and just being in that environment. Even now, on Thessia, she was surrounded by all of this beauty and yet she felt as though she was working every moment of every day. She could not remember taking day off. Had she tried to shirk her training, she fully expected Shiala or Matriarch Calis to quickly drag her back to her reality. She was thinking about requesting a day off before she realised that she was beholden to no one. There were no military regulations governing her life. Even the threat of Calis' wrath, while formidable, could not really compel her to do anything.

The pleasant daydream of what she might do on her hypothetical day off was interrupted by the sight of Samara walking towards her. Shepard tucked the daydream away with a mental note to bring it up with Liara – after all, time spent naked in her bondmate's arms would have to be included in any day off.

"Welcome back, Samara. Good trip?"

Samara inclined her head gracefully. "Given the company I kept, it was mercifully short."

Shepard could never quite tell if Samara were joking or not. She suspected that the Justicar enjoyed Myke's company - or at least she enjoyed impressing her teachings on the young maiden.

"Did you learn anything about the message?" Shepard pressed.

"I merely delivered it. It is not my place nor do I have any desire to know its contents," Samara intoned gracefully, without a hint of chagrin that she had not been privy to the message.

"You're not even the slightest bit curious?" Shepard teased, mostly for her own amusement. "Well, I for one am curious. If you're hungry, I believe Myke is laying out something of a feast in the kitchen."

"There are few things I would enjoy less," Samara replied. "I will retire to meditate and reflect."

As much as Samara enjoyed spending time with Myke, she was no doubt looking forward to some well-deserved quiet. Having already spent the morning meditating, Shepard had no desire to be invited to another session. She had built up a well-developed loathing of the practice, preferring the good humour of Myke's chatter over a forced silence. She left the Justicar to her own devices and hastened down the corridor. A part of her regretted not being present when Samara had handed over the message, but she had reasoned that it had been intended for Liara. This way, Liara could choose to keep the contents to herself if she wished. Fat chance of that, Shepard thought as she hastened her steps. If it's bad news she's going to want to get it off her chest.

The Broker's lair was rarely shrouded in darkness of late. Liara preferred to have natural light filtering through the windows. Often, when the weather was favourable, those windows were thrown open. When Shepard had asked about it, Liara said it kept her sane. As her footsteps sounded on the tiles, Liara did not look up. She remained hunched over the console in front of her. Shepard immediately noticed the slump to her bondmate's shoulders.

"Hey, is everything okay?" Shepard touched Liara on the elbow. The gentle touch resulted in a startled jump. Liara finally turned to look at her and Shepard was struck by her pallor. "Do you need to sit down?"

Liara shook her head determinedly. "No…thank you, Evan. I…I need to play you the message. If only so I can share the burden of its revelation with another."

"Absolutely, happy to share the burden," Shepard replied quickly. "Was it that bad? Tell me, is the Galaxy ending again?"

"Now is hardly the time for levity," Liara replied in a brusque voice. "But no, the Galaxy is not ending. It is a message of…a more personal nature."

Liara darted a finger towards the haptic interface, as though its mere touch were poison. Then she took a step back, away from the central screen where an image flickered and then formed into a recognisable visage. Shepard recoiled instantly.

"Aegir," she snarled. It was not a face she had ever hoped to see again. "Li, what is this?"

"Just listen, Evan," Liara said quickly and quietly.

{My dear little sister,} Isini Aegir began in a voice dripping with false sincerity. {Sister.} The word lingered on the asari's tongue for a moment, as though she were savouring it. {It seems strange to say those words, to admit to myself that we are family, but there you have it, little sister. When Benezia abandoned me to my fate I swore I wanted nothing more to do with the T'Soni family…well, I actually swore that I'd come back one day and slaughter everyone, but I suppose it was fortunate for you that I did not keep that vow. Now, I have no idea how much time has passed between me recording this message and you watching it. Could be a few months…or a few centuries. So, I'll set the scene for you. We had our family reunion on Tuchanka where I nearly ripped apart your human. Then we had our little rendezvous on Thessia where I promised to have you trussed up and squealing like a little bitch before I killed you. Unfortunately, I haven't quite managed to do that just yet. The Illusive Man has just agreed to give you back to your Commander in exchange for the Catalyst. Oh, I think I might kill you yet, but I haven't quite decided. Is all of that a distant memory for you? Please don't tell me you're still offended that I activated that Reaper tank while you were in it? You can't be stupid enough to believe that you would have turned into a banshee? You're not Ardat Yakshi…neither of us are. Anyway, where was I?}

Aegir paused dramatically before continuing, {Oh yes! If you're watching this, then I am long dead. Possibly even by your hand…although I seriously doubt that you could defeat me. No offence intended, but I have several centuries on you. I would bet credits on that fucking bastard, the Illusive Man, betraying me. Hopefully I've gone out in a blaze of glory. A pity, despite my difficult beginnings, I always loved life and the pleasures it held. And why is this message intended for you? Because, make no mistake, sister dear, I still hate your fucking guts. But it's quite simple…I have no one else. You, Liara, for want of a better word, are my heir. And I have an inheritance of sorts for you. Travel to my home on Trategos in the Nimbus Cluster, you'll find the exact coordinates embedded in this message. There are no guards, no traps of any kind. You'll find there the accumulation of my life's work. All the many decades I travelled the Galaxy, the disreputable company I kept, my time spent working with Cerberus…everything has been distilled down and I have retained that which is most important. I know I do not have the right to ask anything of you, but I am asking you now to retrieve my life's work. Treat it with the utmost care, my sister, this is all I would ask of you. Oh, and you'll want to wear warm underwear - Trategos can be…a little chilly.} Following a playful wink from Aegir, the message ended.

Although her concentration had been focused on the Aegir's message, Shepard had been aware of Liara throughout. Her bondmate telegraphed her emotions physically, radiating a tangible anger. When the vid ended, Shepard felt a sense of relief at no longer having to look at Aegir's face. She could only imagine how Liara felt in response – especially after watching it twice. Shepard turned her back on the now blank screen.

"My god, Li," Shepard whispered. "After all expending all of the resources to track this message down…it was a message from…that bitch."

"I would be lying to myself if I said I was not…disappointed," Liara said in what was a colossal understatement. "I had hoped it was from Benezia. A last message from a time when she still had control over her own mind. Instead, it originates from an individual for whom I hold nothing but contempt."

"You are not obliged to do anything that bitch asks of you, my love," Shepard said firmly. "Even after she recorded this message she tried to kill you. I mean, I'm glad she didn't succeed…but who the fuck did Aegir think would be around to listen to this if she did?

Liara lowered her head. "I too thought that and could only come to one explanation. Perhaps…Isini wanted to die."

"There's no point speculating. She's dead. End of!" Shepard said emphatically. Worried that she had pushed it too far, she drew a breath and continued in a quieter voice, "What I'm trying to say is that there won't be any consequences if you ignore the request."

"That is not an option," Liara replied quietly, her voice cold. "Whatever Aegir's 'life's work' represents, it is vital that we secure it or else we risk it falling into the wrong hands. Aegir was a murderer, an individual possessing the blackest of hearts. Whatever she saw fit to collect across the centuries, I would wager it is valuable…if not dangerous."

"It's the dangerous part that I'm worried about, Liara," Shepard pointed out. "This is the same dear sister who locked you into that tank and flicked the switch…regardless of what she thought it might do to you."

Liara nodded. "I understand all too well that this could be a trap, but I have made my decision. I need to go to Trategos."

"I don't disagree with that, but surely we can send a team in-"

"You heard the message. Isini sent this to me. I know she would have ensured that I need to go personally," Liara said each word as though she had a bad taste in her mouth. "And there is only one team I trust enough to accompany me. I will contact the Normandy and we will rendezvous with them enroute."

"I hope you're not planning on leaving me at home?" Shepard had heard way too many uses of 'I' in that speech.

Liara looked towards her, and her features softened slightly for the first time since she had watched Aegir's message. "I am sorry, Evan. I had just assumed that you would want to be there."

"Too bloody right," Shepard said as she wrapped Liara into a fierce embrace. She felt her bondmate slump into her arms, a small sigh escaping from her lips. If this whole thing is a trap, I'm going to find a way to make that bitch suffer all over again."

The feeling that this was somehow her fault took hold – that she had willed this circumstance into being. This was everything Shepard had wanted. An excuse to be back on the Normandy – heading into action with her family at her side. Yet, as she felt Liara's body tremble against hers, she wanted to take it all back and have nothing more pressing in her life than the endless days of training and drills.

Omega, Sahrabarik

Miranda had long since stopped finding anything she did with Jack weird – even the one time that they had been naked in a shower together. Her old self however would have had difficulty reconciling their new relationship – especially what she was doing at that moment. It could not be explained in any way other than to say she was having a restaurant meal with Jack. Granted, their meals were on disposable plates bought from a food stall and their 'table' was an old storage crate with a couple of stools placed next to it. The vista from the table would have commanded a premium had it been anywhere more civilised, but here it was merely a view across the depths of Omega's asteroid. Miranda had hardly glanced at it. Her eyes were on her plate as she shifted her food around. Had she been in a different kind of mood she would have acknowledged that the food was delicious – as long as she did not think about what was in it. Every so often she brought a mouthful to her lips and chewed unenthusiastically – barely tasting the rich seasonings. Whenever she shifted slightly, her shoulder wound tugged painfully despite her arm being immobilised in a sling. Miranda did not flinch from the pain – she flinched at the reminder of her failure.

"Cheerleader?"

She had been so close, and yet she had let Varek Kor'Amon slip through her fingers. It had not mattered that she had nearly lost her life, it would have been a small price to pay.

"Miranda!"

Miranda looked up to find Jack staring at her expectantly. Jack using her name was still a rare enough occurrence that it felt odd to hear.

"Sorry. Were you saying something?"

Jack rolled her eyes. "Look…I bring you to a nice restaurant and buy you a meal, the least you can do is give me some conversation in return. I thought you might want to talk a little more about what happened on Virmire?"

"I don't want to talk about what happened on Virmire," Miranda replied frostily.

"Varek got away," Jack reminded her needlessly. "You still pissed off?"

Miranda huffed irritably. "You know full well I am, Jack. Stop baiting me or you will get the response that you deserve."

Jack lifted her hands and surrender. "Hey! I'm just here enjoying my meal and trying to chat. I don't need your aggression ruining my downtime. If you really don't wanna talk about it anymore then I'll shut up."

"You do that," Miranda replied.

She returned to her meal, feigning as much enthusiasm as she could muster. It should not have been difficult, but it felt as though she were eating simply because the food was there. She had no appetite, and even less desire for the cold beer that sat next to her plate.

The pair of them ate in silence for several minutes – the length of time it took for Jack to finish every morsel on her plate and scrape it clean. Miranda had barely made a dent in hers. She could tell that Jack was bored by the silence, even more so as she chugged down the rest of her beer. Jack was regarding her empty bottle with a disappointed expression when Miranda absently pushed her untouched one across the table. Jack wasted no time in taking several gulps. Miranda wondered if she was fortifying herself to continue her futile attempt at conversation.

"Listen, Cheerleader, just one more thing and then I'll drop it. Promise me that you won't go and do anything stupid?"

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

Jack shrugged. "Stupidity is one of your specialisms these days. And it's a well-known fact that doing stupid things gets people killed. I really don't want you to get yourself killed. I like having you around…plus you now owe me a meal."

Miranda raised her eyebrows. "You distinctly said that this was your treat?"

A pleased smirk lit up Jack's face, her mission accomplished in earning a harmless rise. "The treat is spending time in my company."

That went one step further, Miranda could not help but smile. It was the barest tug of her lips, but Jack's good humour was infectious. It occurred to her that Jack was a lifesaver in so many ways. Had she been left to her own devices she would have locked herself in the Nest and ignored her body's need for food. Or worse yet, commandeered a shuttle to pursue her target as he fled – no doubt earning herself the death she craved. Instead, she was perched – on an admittedly uncomfortable seat – overlooking a fantastic view, eating food and speaking to another human being. It was almost as though she was living her life.

"Okay, I'm done," she announced with an air of finality as she pushed her plate in the same direction as her beer. Although it had felt like a chore, she felt better for eating something. "You want the rest?"

Jack's eyes lit up. "Fuck yeah!"

Jack fell on Miranda's unwanted portion as though she had not finished her own only minutes earlier. With nothing to occupy herself, Miranda found herself watching Jack eat. Jack ate like a feral beast, relishing her food with gusto. The old Miranda would have been disgusted, now she was simply content. It was never something that she would admit to Jack, but it felt like seeing Jack happy and healthy was a giant fuck you to Cerberus. Despite all that had been done to her – by Cerberus and those that came after - Jack was thriving. Miranda had stopped turning that same gaze upon herself. Sure, she had made concessions to keep Chakwas and Jack off her back, but she could never escape the emptiness that held her in its continual grip. Before she could let the depression overwhelm her again, Miranda slapped her hand on the table to get Jack's attention.

"A slice of pie and another beer?" she asked, hating that her generous offer came out sounding flat.

Jack raised her eyebrows in surprise. Her mouth was too full to allow for words, but her enthusiastic nod spoke volumes of assent.

Miranda stood, taking her credit chit out of her pocket in an obvious manner - there were few things Jack appreciated more than being bought a drink. As she turned towards the stall she resolved, against her better judgement, to buy herself some pie. With Jack's appetite, there was no chance that the food would be wasted. Before she could take a step, her trained eye picked out several figures moving deliberately in her direction. Only a short moment later, Miranda recognised the batarian walking in front of a pair of turians. It was Hanek – Aria T'Loak's second in command. With a sigh, she tucked her credit chit back in her pocket and stood with one hand on her hip. Despite the attention she was lavishing on her food, Jack immediately picked up on Miranda's cue. She glanced over her shoulder and scowled in irritation as she predicted the interruption to her meal. Jack quickly polished off the remainder of her food. She was still chewing as she stood at Miranda's side and folded her arms across her chest.

"If these fuckers keep me from my pie there's going to be hell to pay," Jack muttered.

"We don't want any trouble, Jack," Miranda murmured discreetly as the three mercs approached. "Play nice."

"Aria wants to see you," Hanek announced in his gruff voice, clearly seeing no need for pleasantries.

"Always happy to oblige," Miranda replied politely. "We'll finish our meal and stop by Afterlife when we're done."

"Not an option. She wants to see you now."

Miranda felt Jack's anger radiating from her in waves. Any resulting fight would have been over quickly. Jack would have all three mercs on their asses in a matter of seconds. Although the summoning left her just as pissed off, she knew she needed to diffuse the situation. Almost instinctively, she reached out and put a steadying hand on Jack's shoulder. "Well, I suppose we wouldn't want to keep Aria waiting."

"Aria specifically said not the psychotic one, just you," Hanek said as he pointed at Miranda.

"Who's psychotic?" Jack growled, taking an abrupt step forward.

"Give me a moment." Miranda moved under the pretence of putting herself between Jack and Hanek. She retrieved her credit chit and pressed it into Jack's hand. "Get yourself some pie and beer on me." She lowered her voice. "Recall the crew to Normandy just in case. Remain on standby." Then she continued, more loudly for the benefit of the mercs. "I don't want to come back to find that chit depleted!"

For a moment Miranda thought Jack was going to protest the order, but she took the chit accompanied by one of her best shit-eating grins. "Your mistake, Cheerleader."

Just as Miranda turned to follow Hanek, she heard Jack's parting whisper. "Remember, that bitch preys on weakness."

Jack's advice was well-meaning, albeit unnecessary. Miranda was no stranger to Aria T'Loak. She had been in the Queen of Omega's presence several times with Shepard. Of course, the asari had largely ignored her, but it meant that she knew what to expect. Aria was defined by her ego and her arrogance, traits Miranda knew well. She had always possessed healthy amounts of both, even if they had been eroded somewhat over the years.

The first hint that something was different came when their route bypassed Afterlife all together. As far as Miranda knew, the asari always greeted her 'guests' in her eerie above the club. Hanek did not offer up an explanation until they reached a rank of skycars. He opened the door on the nearest, a top-of-the-line asari model, and indicated that she was to get in.

Miranda did not allow any hesitation into her movements as she gracefully stepped into the car. "I trust that the advice not to accept rides from strangers doesn't apply in this case?"

The quip earned very little from Hanek – just a four-eyed glare - as he clambered in beside her. The turians took the seats up front. Miranda settled back into the plush leather and crossed her legs with a practiced air of boredom. She felt the snug weight of her pistol in its thigh holster, but it offered little reassurance. Hanek had not bothered to confiscate her weapon. He was no doubt aware that she was a biotic, so disarming her was futile – just as futile as it would be for Miranda to use her weapon on Aria's goons…or Aria herself.

Miranda's geographical experience of Omega was limited. In the past, situations always conspired to take her to the very worst parts – plague ridden slums being a highlight. Now, she rarely ventured far from the docks. The skycar weaved delicately through traffic on an upwards trajectory, leaving the docks and the central tendril of the station behind them. They passed smaller tendrils clinging to the underside of the asteroid. No two possessed the same architectural style, most looked to have grown rather than been built – with structures tacked on haphazardly to accommodate a growing population.

Their route took them close to the outer edges of the asteroid. As the skycar slowed on approach, Miranda could not feign disinterest any longer. The structure in front of her was smaller than the others, but it looked purposefully designed. It's graceful lines, descending from the asteroid, would not have looked out of place on Thessia or Ilium. Amidst its neighbours, it looked like a palace. And there would be no prizes for guessing who lived there. A palace fit for a Queen.

It was not fear that gripped Miranda as she followed Hanek inside. She was annoyed that Aria had decided to demonstrate her control over the Normandy and her crew in such a fashion. It irked her that she could be summoned by anyone, let alone someone to whom she owed no obedience. Miranda promised herself that she would keep her feelings in check, but she was going in armed with the knowledge that she too had back up. For the same reason she did not let Jack lose on Hanek and his friends, Aria in turn would not risk upsetting the delicate balance of power. Miranda armed herself with the knowledge that she was walking into Aria's lair with the full weight of the Shadow Broker behind her.

As Hanek led her further into the interior, Miranda found herself walking through spacious corridors with glimpses of adjoining rooms. Habitable space came at a premium on Omega, it predictable that Aria would demonstrate her power by having so much of it. The spaces were further set apart by the fact that they were clean – almost clinically so. Absent of the detritus and scum that were a constant in the lives of ordinary Omegans. Aria did not decorate her walls with expensive works of art, instead Miranda passed weapons, armour and – unsettlingly – the odd skull. She turned her gaze away from the blank eye sockets of a long dead Krogan. They were trophies of vanquished foes. Most of the weapons looked to be antiques, but Miranda recognised a Cerberus Harrier assault rifle, mounted alongside a Centurion's helmet. Relics of Omegas most recent occupation a year earlier.

"She's waiting for you in there."

Hanek's sudden announcement interrupted her studies of Aria's long and brutal history. Miranda stepped past the batarian without a word – she certainly had nothing to thank him for. Her stomach gave an odd lurch, but Miranda blamed it on the food she had recently eaten as opposed to a reaction to the situation. Fear was not an option. She was simply having a private meeting with a business associate.

Miranda stepped into a cavernous room that might have taken the breath away of someone who had not grown-up with wealth. The dominant feature was a floor to ceiling curved window with a spectacular view – of nothing but space. Most windows on Omega simply looked out onto more habitation or industry. Aria could turn her back on the seat of her power, with an unhindered view that could have been anywhere else in the Galaxy. Coming from the brightly lit corridors, it took Miranda's eyes time to adjust to the dimmed lighting. A few bright lights illuminated focal points, but they did little to chase away the shadows. Miranda's gaze passed cursorily over the rest of the room – it was filled with yet more trophies, including some larger pieces like a fully mounted varren skeleton. It created an atmosphere that was austere to the point of lacking any warmth – much like its owner.

Movement drew Miranda's attention. A sinuous shape rose from the shadows, followed by the clicking of heeled boots against the floor tiles. Aria herself stepped into the light and regarded Miranda with her head cocked to one side, a predatory smirk on her face. It unnerved Miranda even further to see that the asari was not wearing her customary attire. Instead, she wore a dark bodysuit, layered with a delicate, sheer robe sitting on her shoulders. Miranda was painfully aware of her own casual attire. The trousers and jacket had already seen several days' worth of wear, only the plain white shirt was fresh on that day. With her arm bound in a sling, one sleeve of the jacket hung empty. It was, of course, the first thing Aria noticed.

"I hope the other guy came out worse?" Aria said, actual greetings were clearly for lesser beings.

"Most of them didn't come out at all," Miranda replied with a shrug.

"Of that I have no doubt," Aria nodded appreciatively. "I'm not usually in the habit of making drinks for other people but for you, Miranda Lawson, I will make an exception."

Aria's heels clicked again as she passed in front of Miranda, crossing to a well-stocked bar. She looked expectantly over her shoulder.

"No drink," Miranda replied – omitting any pleasantries of her own. "I am simply interested to learn the purpose of this visit."

"Straight to business!" Aria exclaimed. Despite Miranda's refusal, she began preparing a drink of her own. "I would expect nothing less from Jack Harper's right hand."

"You have an exaggerated view of my past with Cerberus," Miranda said, injecting her voice with displeasure. "I may have reported directly to The Illusive Man, but I was never so indispensable. A mere tool to be used like so many others."

Aria snorted. She turned back to face Miranda with a glass in hand – ice rattled against the sides as she took a sip. "You say words that you do not believe yourself – some might call that a lie…or perhaps false modesty, and I would not have thought you to be modest."

"Merely pragmatic," Miranda offered. "Some situations call for being honest about one's abilities – or position."

"Indeed." Aria inclined her head.

The asari paused, as though studying Miranda properly for the first time. Being scrutinised was not usually something that fazed Miranda, but she found it unnerving to be on the receiving end of Aria's gaze. Especially considering she knew exactly what Aria would see – a pallid, thin human woman with dark circles beneath her eyes and no patience for chit-chat of any kind. However, the corresponding expression on Aria's face made her wonder if the asari was seeing something entirely different. Aria's smirk became a smile, made even more predatory by not showing her teeth. The light caught her icy blue eyes – bright with amusement. She stepped forward, her movements undulating and graceful in a manner that Miranda herself had once perfected. It was more unnerving still for Aria to walk directly at her. She had to school herself to remain impassive, a task rendered almost impossible when Aria casually lifted a hand and trailed a finger lightly across Miranda's cheek and under her chin. The touch lasted a mere second, but the effects lingered. Her skin tingled as her jaw tightened in anger at the intrusion.

"Come…sit." Aria beckoned as she returned to her original seat.

Miranda turned instinctively, but she remained rooted to the spot – unwilling to be summoned yet again. She watched as Aria settled onto a curved leather sofa, crossing her legs as she waited expectantly. Miranda let an appropriate amount of time pass before she followed – enough to satisfy her integrity, but not enough to earn Aria's ire. She was relieved to find that the curvature of the sofa put a healthy amount of distance between her and the Queen of Omega, complete with a small table acting as a barrier. The soft leather welcomed her body, making it easier to affect an air of ease as she leaned back.

"I admit to being slightly surprised," Miranda began – trying not to sound too eager to open the conversation. "I thought you hosted all of your guests in Afterlife, and yet I find myself in what must be your personal sanctum. Surely as an ex-Cerberus agent I am not high on your list of people to trust – especially considering it was Cerberus who murdered your daughter?"

That earned a reaction. Aria's lip twisted again – this time into a sneer rather than a smirk. However, it disappeared quickly. "Oh, I am a great proponent of vengeance, but I believe that the stench of that organisation has been satisfactorily wiped from the Galaxy – due in no small part to the efforts of you and your friends. In fact, it irks me still that I remained indebted to Liara T'Soni for helping me run them out of Omega. Trust me, Miranda, if I thought you had anything to do with Liselle's death I would have dropped you in a vat of eezo the second you set foot on Omega."

"Comforting to know," Miranda deadpanned.

"Afterlife serves its purpose as a meeting place, but contrary to popular belief I do not spend all of my time there waiting for someone to swing by and pay me a visit. Sometimes I value a quiet space for my thoughts…and, of course, privacy."

"You want to discuss something of a sensitive nature?" Miranda suggested.

Aria laughed delightedly. "Is that not the only kind of discussion? Well, I could get you to bore me with insight into the Normandy's exploits across the Galaxy, but I already follow your every move with great interest. Fantastic work by the way. You're creating ripples in the balance of power…in my favour of course. Less competition is always good for business." Aria then lifted her glass to her lips and drained the liquid in one gulp. She then uncrossed her legs and leaned forward to set her glass down. "But that is not why I invited you here."

If Miranda thought Aria's initial movements were predatory, it was nothing compared to what came next. She did little more than remain in stunned silence as Aria surged forward, striding across the table in one step. The comfortable distance between them was eroded instantly - replaced with Aria kneeling on the sofa, one knee beside her and the other between her legs. Miranda was further caged by Aria's hands on either side of her head.

"I had hoped," Aria began, "That we might find some…mutual satisfaction."

From the moment she had stepped into the skycar, Miranda had known that she might be in trouble. In her arrogance, she had assumed that she could hold her own with Aria in conversation. However, it was rapidly becoming apparent how wrong she was. Aria was altogether intoxicating. Her heady scent was musky and inviting. Her breath fell hot on Miranda's skin. It required every bit of Miranda's experience to remain calm and in control of herself.

"I fail to see how someone like me could possibly satisfy you?" Miranda said, feeling unable to do anything other than sit as still as possible. The slightest movement would bring her body into intimate contact with Aria's. She had no desire to encourage further foreplay – if that was even what she could label Aria's intentions.

"You would agree, Miranda, that I have been very generous in my support to your little rebellion – or whatever you want to call it. I was assured that I would be kept thoroughly informed in return…but I find myself disappointed at being kept in the dark."

Miranda frowned. "You made it very clear that you already know everything about the Normandy's operations. And I have no doubt that Liara is keeping you informed of her negotiations with the Council. I assure you, Aria, no one is intentionally keeping you in the dark."

"Do not play coy with me," Aria purred into Miranda's neck.

Aria was so close that Miranda felt warm lips brushing against her skin – necessitating a fight to keep her body's reactions under control. A task made all the more difficult by the conflict she felt. It was impossible not to be attracted to the Queen of Omega – she had a pulse after all – but she had no desire for physical contact, especially not when it was entirely unsolicited.

"I do not care about T'Soni playing at being a politician," Aria continued. "I want to know where the Reaper is."

Aria's presence was all-consuming, but Miranda's brow furrowed into an honest frown. "What Reaper?" Then realisation dawned. "You mean the last surviving Catalyst? I wasn't there, but I believe that no one has seen it since the incident on Gurkhan."

Miranda was painfully aware that there was absolutely no reason for Aria to believe her and no way for her to offer up any proof of her claims – short of giving Aria access to the Normandy's comms logs and her own personal log. It was a level of access she was not prepared to grant.

"I have no reason to lie to you." It was difficult to continue meeting Aria's gaze, but Miranda would not let herself look away. "There have been absolutely no sightings – confirmed or otherwise."

Aria narrowed her eyes into a fierce gaze. Miranda felt goose-flesh creep over her skin and a tremulous breath escaped her lips as it became impossible to mask her fear any longer. Like the predator seizing an opportunity, Aria took Miranda's jaw between her fingers and tilted her head back.

"If I find out you have lied to me, then you will wish that you had been dropped into that vat of eezo years ago," Aria hissed as her grip tightened with every word. "And you will keep me informed, won't you?"

Miranda swallowed. Discomfort led to her shifting her body slightly. She tried to move away from Aria, but she was pressed back against the sofa with nowhere to go. "I will relay your thoughts to Liara. You know as well as I do that if anyone is going to learn its whereabouts first, it will be her. I can assure you, locating the Catalyst is not on the Normandy's list of priorities."

The smirk returned. "And what are the Normandy's priorities? Why are you chasing mercenaries across the Galaxy with such passion?" Aria loosened her hold, instead using one finger to caress Miranda's cheek. "You use altruism as a pretence, but I recognise vengeance when I see it. Who did you lose, Miranda? Who was so important to you that you would tear the Galaxy apart in their memory?"

"I am making a small contribution to a safer Galaxy…for everyone," Miranda replied – honestly enough. "My personal ambitions are just that, personal. But they are not at odds with keeping people safe."

"You people are all cut from the same cloth," Aria's smirk remained, but there was a sneer in her voice. Her finger left Miranda's cheek and trailed down her neck, nail lightly grazing the skin. "Bleeding fucking hearts. Why is it that no one is willing to demand something for themselves? When I want something, I fucking take it."

As if to punctuate her words, Aria jerked her finger downwards and ripped through the top two buttons of Miranda's shirt. As her hand trailed across the newly exposed flesh, she pressed her lips to Miranda's neck in a savage caress. Miranda's pulse thrummed against Aria's lips, quickening as the touch left her chest and trailed further down her body.

"Don't worry about your clipped wing holding you back, little rebel," Aria whispered. "I am feeling generous today."

Aria's hand did not stop moving, snaking beneath the waistband of Miranda's trousers until her palm was pressed against the flat of her lower torso. The asari caressed Miranda's skin as she poised to delve lower.

"I don't want this," Miranda said firmly, managing to keep any hint of breathiness from emerging in her voice.

Aria leaned back slightly, just far enough that she could delight in the play of expressions across Miranda's face. "I fail to see how that is my problem?" she grinned rapaciously.

"What do you want me to do?" Miranda continued. As if to punctuate her words, her body jerked involuntarily in response to Aria's ministrations. "Do you want me to plead? Beg you to stop? I won't give you that satisfaction. The only thing I will do is fight."

Aria laughed delightedly. "You'll fight me? You know your manufactured biotics would not last ten fucking seconds against mine!"

Miranda nodded calmly. "But I would make a hell of a mess in your lovely home before I conceded defeat."

"I am not sure which I would enjoy more – sparring or fucking!" Aria purred. "Perhaps both?"

For several seconds, it felt like a standoff as it was not clear which Aria would choose. Miranda could feel the lure of the dark energy, as ever pent up and eager to be released. She feared that she had overestimated her chances – Aria would likely incapacitate her before she could break a single item. Her only satisfaction came in knowing that Aria would struggle to explain her way out of this one to Shepard and Liara. However, Aria eventually withdrew her hand with a deliberate show of reluctance. Clearly, Miranda's response had been more than the Queen of Omega had bargained for. She is not used to hearing the word no, Miranda thought, wondering how close she had come to being smeared across the walls of Aria's sitting room.

Aria shifted her weight away from Miranda. Eventually, she rose to her feet but the distance between them was short-lived. She did not move, leaving Miranda only a narrow space within which to stand herself. And once standing, Miranda again found herself pressed humiliatingly close to Aria.

"As delightful as it would have been to take what I wanted," Aria began, trailing her tongue over her upper lip. "I have never needed to force someone to have sex with me. Oh, of course I've done it on occasion. I get a fucking kick out of hearing people squeal, and it helps with the image…but I am very attached to some of the pieces in this room." Before Miranda could take a step away, Aria's hand darted up and pressed against her chest. Her touch slid upwards until she was gripping the base of Miranda's neck. "Let me give you some advice before you leave – loss happens, use it, draw strength from it, but don't let it consume you…or there will be nothing left."

It was Miranda's turn to smile – it was cold and hard. "Too late for that."

And that was all she had to offer. She did not share any of Aria's disappointment, even if her treacherous body was trying to tell her otherwise. Nor would she apologise for not offering the pleasant distraction that the asari was seeking. And she was damn well not going to thank Aria for allowing her to walk away. She still had some shred of dignity left. Nevertheless, she breathed a discreet sigh of relief when Aria let go of her neck.

"Fly away, Miranda," Aria made a dismissive gesture with her hand. "My people will take you wherever you want to go without any trouble. Just remember what was discussed today – about the Catalyst…and my warning."

It would be incorrect to say that Miranda fled from Aria's presence, but her steps were brisk and she did not look back. She did not stop until she was back in the same skycar that had transported her to Aria's home in the first place, with a curt word to take her back to the docks. With great difficulty due to the fact that her one good hand was trembling, Miranda zipped up her jacket to hide the buttons missing from her shirt.

Upon her return to the Normandy, Miranda's only thought was how quickly she could make her way to the Nest, divest herself of her clothes, and step into a scalding hot shower. A resigned sigh escaped her lips when she found Jack waiting for her in the CIC, trying not to make it obvious that she had been staking out the airlock. Mercifully, Jack's personal growth had extended to her ability to read people. The expression on her face must have told Jack all she needed to know in that moment.

"Just tell me Aria let you walk away unscathed and I'll leave you alone," Jack promised in an earnest voice.

"She didn't harm a single hair on my head," Miranda replied. It was an honest enough response, so why did she feel as though her skin was crawling? "Jack…I just need an hour-"

Jack held up her hands. "Hey. Take as long as you need. Just promise me you'll fill me in later, yeah?"

Miranda nodded and managed a smile. "You know I will."

There was no way in hell she was going to fill Jack in on all the details. She could already predict how that would end – with Jack charging off to confront Aria. Miranda had no doubt that Jack would create one hell of a mess, even get in a few well-timed attacks of her own, but her Cerberus-engineered talents were no match for the biotics of an asari as powerful as Aria T'Loak. Jack getting herself killed would make her already shitty day far worse.

Miranda was waiting impatiently at the elevator when the doors opened to reveal Garrus. She already knew from his expectant expression that he had been coming to find her.

"Not now, Garrus. Anything you need, bring it up with Jack-"

"I need you both," Garrus interrupted seriously.

From the speed with which she joined them, Jack had clearly been watching Miranda's departure and was close enough to overhear Garrus.

"We've just received a message from Thessia, from Liara. She's requesting the Normandy's help for an urgent mission."

"Any further details? Do we get to bust some heads?" Jack asked, unable to conceal the eagerness in her voice.

"Not much at this stage. We're to rendezvous with them in the Nimbus Cluster in twelve hours. Our destination is Trategos in the Pelion System."

"Never heard of it," Jack said dismissively.

"It's cold," was all Garrus offered in description. "If we're going to make it on time, we need to leave now."

Shit. Miranda knew that the timing could not be worse. The Normandy's departure, hot on the heels of her 'conversation' with Aria, would be problematic. Still, there was no way she could turn down Liara's request just to appease the Queen of Omega. This was a request not made lightly. As the Shadow Broker, Liara had access to ships and crews, but she had specifically requested the Normandy. They were obviously needed.

"We're saddling up, yeah?" Jack asked.

"You don't need to wait for my orders," Miranda replied, knowing that Jack was only doing it out of courtesy. "Just tell me you can handle things for an hour."

"Bitch, please," was Jack's eloquent response.

A minute later, Miranda slipped into the welcome solitude of the Nest. Although her body was crying out for a shower, her feet remained rooted to a spot just over the threshold as she tried to process the encounter with Aria. Miranda was no stranger to unwanted attention. It was something she had dealt with for most of her life. Even as a teenager she had expertly fended off the advances of her father's business associates – always treading a fine line between demure flattery and outright rejection so as not to cause offence. It was a game she thought she played well – until confronted with Aria T'Loak. It would have been effortless to surrender and allow herself a few precious hours of oblivion. There was no question of betraying Ashley's memory. It had been almost a year. Even if the thought of falling in love again was unconscionable, she still ostensibly had needs.

But there was meaningless fucking, and then there was sleeping with the fucking Queen of Omega.

Miranda looked down at her hand to realise it was shaking. She stared at it for a few moments, before forcing herself to take a step forward. With her thoughts interrupted, the requisite movements came more easily. She lost herself in the mechanical motions of taking her clothes off, ignoring the protests of her shoulder wound, before diving beneath the coldest shower she could stand.

Himera, Artemis Tau

As Ashley flexed her limbs, she marvelled at the flexibility of the close-fitting plates of her new armour. Unlike her previous suits, the plating moulded to the shape of her body. The new technology stripped out much of the bulk, leaving her feeling almost naked. She remembered seeing the suit for the first time, questioning how it could offer the same protection at a fraction of the weight. No expense had been spared, was the reply from the boffins. The single suit of armour represented millions of credits of research and development. Far too expensive for the rank and file, but worth it to protect one of humanity's best and brightest. The suit was a dull grey that seemed to swallow light – not rendering her invisible, but definitely an upgrade on the ancient pink and white combat suit she had worn on Eden Prime. It also possessed state of the art biotic dampening shields which served to negate the effect of biotic attacks.

Ashley reached down to pick up her helmet almost reverently. Her reflection stared back at her in the dark visor. The expression of pride on her face was evident. Firstly, pride in humanity – that their top minds had risen from the ashes of war to make such technological breakthroughs. These were the advantages that would ensure their place at the forefront of galactic affairs. And, secondly, pride in what she had achieved – coming back from the catastrophic injuries she had received on Chasca. She could finally put the time spent recovering and training behind her and get back to work. The pride was tinged with an unsettling combination of anger and sadness. The world around her had moved on in her absence. Society was trying to heal, while at the same time threatening to self-destruct. Ash found herself on the opposite side to individuals who had once been friends. She was acutely aware that she would have to bring them to justice. It was unsettling, yet Ash was gripped with the certainty that they had be the ones to betray the friendship. And the clone of Shepard? It was not a person at all, it was a mere thing. Ash looked forward to the day when she could lay Shepard's memory to rest by killing it.

That day was still very much in the future. Her focus was on successfully completing this first mission. Although it was only an isolated merc outpost, Alliance Intelligence had received intel that they were preparing for a terrorist strike against Earth's colonies. After the raids on key colonies – including Chasca and Mindoir - almost a year ago, the Alliance could not afford to be complacent. Ash heard footsteps approaching. She turned to find Captain Greg Nasato – his hawk-like face tempered by a wry grin.

"Wow, where can I get that gear?" he asked.

"A limited edition of one unfortunately," Ash replied, feeling suddenly guilty that it had been bestowed on her over any of the other Alliance soldiers fighting for humanity. "I'm thrilled to be part of your team, Captain Nasato, I hope I can demonstrate that I'm up to the task."

"Well, Captain Williams, we are thrilled to have you…and your fancy armour," Nasato replied. "You all set to go?"

"Five by," Ash responded. She felt exhilarated - this was the final quiet moment before everything started happening at pace.

Nasato looked over his shoulder as they left the locker room. "Any questions about the briefing, Williams? I realise that our intel suggesting these mercs played a role in the massacres against our colonies makes this personal for you."

"I assure you that I am here to do a job, Nasato, not seek revenge," Ashley replied. She hoped that he could not discern the opposite from her firm tone. From here out, every mission would be personal. "What concerns me is the possibility that these mercs are using refugees as a shield for their operation. Just reminds me how much work there is ahead of us to clean up this damn mess. Too much work…and not enough boots on the ground."

Ash felt the thrill of her own boots hitting the ground a little over an hour later, her rifle poised in firing position. The briefing had mentioned that Himera had once been a beautiful world, but it had been left desolate and scarred centuries earlier by mining. The landscape was littered with massive spoil heaps, discarded machinery, and ragged scars that carved apart the ground itself as the miners had delved greedily for precious metals. The polluted world had not recovered – the vegetation clung low to the ground, stunted and brown. It offered little cover as the squad pressed forward in tactical formation with Captain Nasato in the lead. Ash had no qualms about taking orders from Nasato. Although she did not know him well, it satisfied her to know that he was a combat veteran who was respected by those who served with him.

{Okay, remember the mercs are using the central mine as a hide out, but they may have smaller fortifications as lookouts.} Nasato's voice was calm over the comm. {Bravo team, move forward, Foxtrot and Charlie, watch their flanks. These are confirmed hostiles. You have permission to fire on sight and take no prisoners.}

With a curt signal to the rest of Bravo that she had point, Ash broke into a sprint. She was careful not to push herself to the limit, not for fear of burning herself out too quickly, but because she knew the rest of the team would not be able to keep up.

If Ash had feared that she had lost any of her confidence or prowess during her convalescence, she soon proved herself wrong. Everything came as easily to her as though she had been born to it – all over again. Her body moved with calculated grace, her rifle an extension of her thoughts as she covered ground at speed. Each step forward barely seemed to touch the ground. Her gaze roamed her surrounds, searching hungrily for an outlet for her skills. She did not have to wait long before registering movement at the entrance to the mine. The sentries, if that was what they could be called, were not alerted to their presence. There were three of them, clustered together by a makeshift barricade – made from scavenged machinery and metal. None of them had their weapons at readiness. Still on the move, Ash opened fire. A burst erupted across her targets – two went down immediately while the third rolled into cover.

"Bravo, suppressing fire on the entrance!" Ash ordered her team. "Stop on my command."

On perfect cue, the entrance lit up in a hail of gunfire. Shots peppered off the rock, throwing up small clouds of dust and debris. There was no way the remaining sentry could risk lifting their head above cover.

Ash approached the entrance at a sprint from the side to stay clear of her own team's line of fire. She had to time it perfectly, counting down in her head the seconds that it would take to reach her target.

And five, four, three, two one! "Cease fire!"

The moment her team stopped firing, Ash activated her omni-blade – a vicious, straight-edged sword – and leapt over the barricade. She saw her turian opponent's eyes widened in surprise in the moment before she drove the blade down through the top of his head. There was little pause after she kicked the body away, as she knew that the cacophony would have alerted the rest of the mercs.

"Entrance secure," Ash radioed back to Nasato. "Bravo team, on me. Let's clear out this nest and show Foxtrot and Charlie how it's done."

She did not look over her shoulder to check where the rest of the team were, trusting in their professionalism that they would be there. Ash felt a surge of pride. This was the Alliance at their finest. With teams like this under their command, there would soon be nowhere left for the Galaxy's scum to hide.

The initial blaze of combat had only served to whet her appetite – what followed next was a pure symphony of coordinated violence. With Ash in the vanguard, her team pressed forward to meet sporadic resistance at first. The mercs were mostly turian, with a few humans. So far none possessed any biotic abilities. Although Ash had promised Nasato that she was not out to seek revenge, it was cathartic. With each target that dropped, she could not help but wonder if she had avenged a colonist's murder – perhaps even Sarah's. It was ridiculous, but it drove her forward – almost recklessly.

At the back of her mind she remembered Oriana's advice not to push herself or the new tech she was wearing, but she paid the warning little heed. Oriana had no experience or knowledge of what it was like to be in combat. The harder she pushed herself, the more likely she was to keep her teammates alive. It certainly was not a combat strategy that she would have advocated in the past, but with her enhancements came a sense of responsibility. It was self-imposed of course. The brass would no doubt view the grunts as cannon fodder, but to Ash they were her comrades. It mattered little that she did not even know most of their names, all that mattered was that they were fellow marines.

"Stop firing! We surrender!"

The shouts hardly registered above the noise. Ash hesitated for an instant as a shape loomed out of the smoke ahead – a figure with its arms raised above its head. She could hear Nasato's order to take no prisoners resonating in her head, but something stayed her trigger finger.

"Please, we're just refugees!"

Ash's mouth tightened – surrendering was one thing, pretending to be something they were not was another altogether. Before the rest of the team could register her momentary hesitation for the weakness that it was, Ash pulled the trigger. The figure grunted and dropped motionless. Ash stepped over the body on her way further into the mine.

From that moment, the fake pleas fell on deaf ears. There would be no mercy for murderers. Ash kept pressing forward until there was no more tunnel in front of her – no further targets to take out. The entire firefight had lasted mere minutes.

Amid the lingering smoke and the fading cries, the shouts of 'secure' echoed around the installation. Ash did not allow herself to relax, not until she had used her HUD to scan for signs of life. Other than her team, there was nothing. Only then did she remove her helmet. Without the filters, she was hit by a wave of scents – although burnt flesh threatened to overwhelm the others.

She turned to Bravo team's corporal. "Butcher's bill?"

"Walking wounded only, ma'am," was the reply, accompanied by a broad grin.

That both surprised and relieved Ash – the mercs had been well-equipped. She looked down at her feet to find her boot resting against a Wraith shotgun – top of the line gear. The weapon was still clutched in the fist of the merc who had wielded it. The body was of a turian female. Her mandibles were still under-developed, indicating that she was barely a teenager. Ash was angry rather than saddened in response – they're desperate, hardly a surprise that they're recruiting them so young.

"Captain Williams, ma'am?"

Ash looked up to find Bravo's corporal staring at her.

"I am glad you're on our side. The way you carved through these sorry bastards…well, it was something!"

"It was a team effort, corp," Ash replied quickly. The last thing she wanted was to build up any kind of following. She was a soldier, nothing more. "We all played our part."

Although he nodded in response, Ash was not convinced that her words had carried any weight. As she watched him walk away, she observed him speaking to the rest of the team. While she could not overhear what was said, without fail the marines turned to stare at her. The faces of some were still obscured behind their helmets, but their body language was clear. Ash sighed. She would have to do something to rectify that, but for now she wanted to enjoy being back in the fight.

A part of Ash did not want to wash away the residue of combat, but she had forgotten how amazing a shower could feel after doing something worthwhile. Sure, she had exerted herself during her training exercises, but this was something altogether different – worthwhile. The Galaxy now contained slightly less scum. Ash promised herself that she was just getting started.

She remembered the shameless pleas of the mercs, claiming that they were mere refugees. Even now, Ash's anger bubbled to the surface. It was a disguise that would fool no one. The mercs had been well-armed and trained. It only served to confirm their intel that they were linked to the massacres on human colonies a year earlier.

Although the anger persisted as she dragged on clean casuals after her shower, it was the kind of anger she could use to drive herself. And it had not eroded her satisfaction in a job well done.

"Captain Williams?" A voice called after her as soon as she emerged from the bathroom.

Ash turned to find Nasato approaching her from the direction of the men's bathroom. He had obviously recently showered – he had only cursorily run his hands through his wet blond hair. She had to wonder if he had been waiting for her.

"It seems that you and I deserve a drink," Nasato suggested, a hopeful tone in his voice. "I think the bar in the lounge is pretty well stocked

Still on a high from the op, Ash did not dismiss his request outright. It did seem appropriate to celebrate their success. She checked her chrono to find that savouring her shower had made her late for a check-in with Oriana. "Damn. No can do, Nasato. I've got a scheduled call to make."

"With your babysitter?" Nasato teased gently.

The glare in response was swift and fierce. "Dr Lawson is not my fucking babysitter. It's a debrief, plain and simple."

Nasato held up both hands in surrender, realising that it was a sore point. "My apologies, Ashley…may I call you Ashley?"

His presumption irritated Ash. They barely knew each other, and his good looks would only let him get away with so much. However, it was outweighed by her need to be on friendly terms with her fellow captain. He was her ticket to remaining on ops rather than returning to the suffocating confines of Vancouver.

She offered up a curt nod. "Ash will do."

He grinned disarmingly. "Ash. Well, I hope you'll call me Greg in return? And have that drink with me when you're done with your debrief."

"Maybe just one," Ash replied with what she hoped was a genuine smile. His interest unnerved her for reasons she did not understand – something she did not have time to delve into in that moment.

She solved the problem by turning her back on him abruptly and walking away before she was forced to make a promise. Ash was not looking forward to her conversation with Oriana. The doctor would want to explain in great detail how her physiology had performed during the mission and, undoubtedly, that she had pushed herself too hard. Ash was not in the mood for a lecture.

As she established contact via the QEC, Ash schooled her expression – vowing to herself that she would be on her best behaviour. Getting in Nasato's favour was one thing, but she would also have to ensure she did not give Oriana any excuses to call her back to Vancouver.

{You're overdue,} Oriana said tersely, in lieu of a greeting. {The call was scheduled for fifteen hundred.}

Only Oriana Lawson would quibble over her being fifteen minutes late. Ash's resolve failed immediately and she did not even try to keep the resulting scowl from her face.

"You're not my keeper, Dr Lawson," Ash said. Her one concession was to keep her tone neutral. She held out her hands for display purposes. "See, I'm in one piece. The op was a success. You'll have everything else you need in my report. It'll be with you by seventeen hundred – depending on how long you keep me in this call."

She failed to earn Oriana's ire. Infuriatingly, the other woman was smiling at her. Ash folded her arms across her chest in an effort to keep her emotions under control. The sooner she was rid of the irritating woman, the better. She did not understand why she felt the need to get a response – negative or otherwise. It was the approval of her fellow marines in the field that she needed and wanted to earn, not some civilian wearing a white coat.

{I am not your keeper, Ashley,} Oriana replied in an even voice. {My apologies, I should move straight onto congratulations, which I understand are in order. I have your suit telemetry from your mission. All of your readings were within acceptable levels. In fact, the ones that counted – speed, strength, reaction time – exceeded predictions for combat situations without any corresponding danger signs.}

While Ash did not like the fact that Oriana was analysing everything she did, she found that it was inconsequential in the overall scheme of things. It was just numbers on a haptic display, what really mattered were her actions. Getting the job done, coming out with the whole team alive, that was what mattered.

"It felt good to be useful again," was Ash's taciturn response, accompanied by the requisite shrug.

She knew full well that dismissing herself as a mere grunt annoyed Oriana, but that was what she was – a soldier first and foremost. It was a world she understood, and she was damn good at it. The enhancements that Oriana had woven throughout her body had undoubtedly played a part, but she had no desire to inflate the doctor's ego any further.

{I'm pleased, and I'll look forward to reading your report, as well as debriefing you in person tomorrow.}

"About that, I was hoping that I could stay with Captain Nasato and his team for a few more ops." Ash tried not to sound desperate with the request, but she dreaded returning to her cage in Vancouver. This was where she belonged. "This was one mission, I would have thought you'd want more data from the field?"

{You're not wrong there,} Oriana began. She looked hesitant for a moment, before continuing, {Look, I wanted to wait to tell you the good news in person but I see that now is as good a time as any. Kessler has approved a reunion with Abby and Lynn. I believe he has organised a personal escort to bring them to headquarters. Still want to stay in the field?}

"No!" Ash replied, this time completely unable to hide the desperation in her voice. Her post-combat elation was replaced by a warm anticipation. "I mean, I absolutely want to see them. I'll return as soon as possible."

Oriana smiled broadly. {Exactly what I thought you would say. See you soon, Ashley.}

The haptic figure disappeared, and Ash was left with the unsettling image of Oriana's smile – extremely satisfied, like the cat that got the cream. Her concerns did not linger. They were quickly replaced by an overwhelming excitement. On one hand, she wanted to see Abby and Lynn on a personal level – it had been far too long. But it would also serve as a reminder of what she was fighting for – she was helping to make the Galaxy a safer place for her family.