Author's Note: I sincerely apologize for the delay in the updating of this story, but life has given me the luxury of being quite sick and unable to recuperate and I simply have had no energy to spare for writing. However, I am now back, and hopefully will be able to return to regular updates. Thank you all so much for your patience, your favorites, follows, and reviews, and I hope that you all continue to enjoy this story.

Bright Blessings,

~R.S.

Liara

The transport from Cerberus' hideout, or base, I had not seen enough to glean a proper definition, was quiet. Our escort back was none other than Miranda, and the entire atmosphere of the sky car could be defined as chilly, at its best. Feron sulked in the back, and I did not know if he was upset with having been locked out of my negotiations with The Illusive Man, or by being in Cerberus custody in general. Perhaps a blend of the two.

I kept my peripheral vision focused on our unhappy driver, using the time I had to attempt to puzzle things through. There had to be a reason that Feron had sought me out, a reason that he possessed the information that he did. It was obvious that Ceberus was detouring from their normal manner of conducting an investigation by bringing an asari on board. But their Illusive Man had been right. I did have a personal stake in this matter.

If the Collectors are truly in play, as Cerberus seems to believe…then the galaxy might well be matched on any level of force. In fact, it might even have been a Collector vessel that attacked the Normandy. Her stealth systems were online at the time, and there is no race or species with the technology to detect it. Unless it was a race rarely seen or heard from, who have never committed crimes grotesque enough to draw the attention of the galaxy.

I pursed my lips and pinched the bridge of my nose, attempting to connect the many threads and strands that had culminated in this moment and this task. None of this would have happened had the Normandy not been attacked, had Serena not crawled through the burning wreckage to save the life of the pilot. A new enemy had emerged, perhaps working for the Reapers.

Goddess, more of my thoughts aligned, what if they have been allied with the Reapers all along? When we stopped Saren, we destroyed the relay that would bring the Reapers back from dark space. But, what if, in one of these cycles, they have been stopped in that manner before? Surely they would have a failsafe…a way to return without the use of the Citadel as their relay. And for that they would require allies…indoctrinated servants who serve them.

I fell back into the memories of my time aboard the Normandy, slicing through the emotion that tied me to the time and focusing solely on what I had learned. Vigil, the Prothean VI we had spoken to on Ilos, revealed that the Reapers came every fifty-thousand years, eradicating the highly advanced races…leaving the others behind.

The Illusive Man's words about the Collectors returned to me. How they never took but one or two victims…oddities that the galaxy would not miss, search for, or avenge. Because of that, we never knew why they Collectors took them.

But what if they were conducting research…research that is not being put to use by them, but by the Reapers? To see the mutations, the defects, find out information…anything that might indicate that a race has reached its pinnacle. What if they are building a list of the races to be exterminated in the next cycle?

The very thought of it sickened me, and yet I could not help but follow my thoughts to their conclusions. This galaxy held so many secrets and what Shepard and the crew of the Normandy had uncovered merely scratched the surface. We knew the Reapers existed. We did not know where they had come from…machines did not simply emerge into existence. They had to have been created. But by whom? And why?

I shook my head, attempting to clear it. I was not among friends here. Not surrounded by those whom I had fought alongside and forged bonds with. I could trust no one. Not the drell who had contacted me, nor the human woman who worked for an organization as shadowy as the Broker's. I could not afford to let myself become distracted by theories and hypotheses that might lead nowhere.

The current mission was clear. Find Shepard's body. Rescue it from the Collectors. But that would come later. I would not rescue Serena at the cost of my own life…though I knew she would do so for me, she would not thank me for the sacrifice. Just as I would not and did not thank her for hers.

What good did your death do us, Shepard? I asked as the skycar slowed, arriving at the main stretch of Omega…the docking port with its entryway straight into Afterlife. An ominous omen for anyone possessed of a semi-sane mind.

"Liara!?" Miranda's accent grated against my hearing. "Were you even listening to me?"

"Precisely, no." I replied, irked at her use of my first name as if we were friends…or worse, as if she had a right to do so. "Why? Were you attempting to say something important?"

Her full lips curled up in a decidedly unflattering sneer. "I was attempting to inform you that your best strategy would be to seek out the Blue Suns mercenaries. From your description of the encounter, they attempted to stop you from your pursuit of Shepard, which lends credence to the drell's belief…"

"I have a name." Feron hissed from the backseat as the transport's hatch opened.

"…that the body is here on Omega, and not yet transferred to the Shadow Broker's agent. Which means we have a chance at success."

I all but snarled as I exited the car and stretched my tired muscles. "Do you not mean that Feron and I have a chance of success, since you seem loathe to play anything but a manipulative backer?"

I did not think it possible, but Miranda's eyes hardened further. "Don't forget," she handed me a credit chit, "we're financing your operation."

"Not something I needed assistance with." I quipped. "Unlike your lack of civility."

She stepped into the skycar and tossed back her dark tresses. "Find Shepard." she ordered, and I stiffened. Her utter sense of command seemed…manufactured. It was not natural. Not like Serena's. "Bring her here. And, as the boss said, ask the drell. I'm sure you're mutually bumpy heads can come up with a lead."

The skycar sped away, leaving me with a very upset Feron. "They're fools if they think I'll help them!" he roared in a whisper. "And look at what happened when I tried leading you the first time? I nearly got you killed. What do they think I can get you?"

Look indeed. I puzzled over the moment I found myself in. Cerberus is reluctant to bring me on board, and yet The Illusive Man and Miranda both have done nothing but encourage my working with Feron, though it is clear they despise all who are alien to them. Therefore, it stands to reason that he has information they want, just as they have information on him that I do not…which means that they know who he is, and are counting on me not to discover it, because they cannot trust him and believe that if I know his identity, I will not trust him and not procure what they need.

Which is Shepard.

Feron knows where she is. He does not work with Cerberus…and this information is not privy to an independent broker, otherwise Omega would be crawling with independents looking for the financial benefits…this leads me to but one belief.

"Everything," I rounded on him, furious with my discovery, but unable to make an enemy of him. "You work for the Shadow Broker, and they know it."

"What?" his golden eyes held no dishonesty, his tone only indignation, not surprise.

Anger surged through me and biotic energy wrapped around the fist that I threw against his jaw. He fell to the ground, but none of the passersby noticed. This was Omega. No one would care.

"Now I know it, too." I seethed. "And our working relationship is about to change."