"My name is Dahlia Stark, I just stepped onto Omega, and I've made a terrible mistake. Imani dropped me off and we said our awkward goodbyes, but as soon as her ship was out of sight I wanted to beg her to come back for me. This rock is dark, cold, and it smells terrible. Why'd I skip on Bekenstein? Sure it would be filled with people out to kill me, but at least I'd die in comfortable surroundings."

Dahlia huddled in a cramped corner, practically wedged into a narrow shaft off the main paths, bathed in the pale orange light of her omni-tool. She momentarily glared at the device and shook her wrist like she was chastising a broken toy.

"Pepper, I hope you're getting this because I'm not repeating myself. I said you could come out from hiding."

"Don't worry, ma'am. I am here. I am listening"

The doll-sized woman appeared atop the disc of the omni-tool's holographic projector in the same orange hue. Dahlia squinted at the tiny motes of light forming the faint freckles on the hologram's face - they were one of the last features, however superficial and functionless, that Dahlia had programmed into the A.I. before her work was discovered aboard the Helash. Most of its primary and secondary routines were long since completed. Tertiary features, like personality, were interrupted by Dahlia's trial and exile from the Flotilla.

Even though the Admiralty Board ordered the A.I. destroyed, Dahlia only turned over an incomplete V.I. copy. She secretly downloaded the real program and concealed it within a series of scaled-down hard drives and server banks built into the rig she wore. The electronic components on her belt and harness blended in with, well, what a lifetime among the Quarians taught her to call her "suit."

Dahlia was human and did not have the Quarian's weakened immune system, but they did not find her unharmed twelve years ago. Unlike her parents, she survived the attack on their ship at Intai'sei, staged by Jormungund hatchetmen to look like a Batarian raid; however, Dahlia was severely wounded. During the attack, when her parents realized the situation was hopeless, they strapped her into an emergency survival suit that her father had designed. Even protection built by Tony Stark could only do so much against oxygen fires and partial vacuum exposure. The suit kept her alive until the Quarians arrived, long after the attackers had vanished, satisfied with their unknowingly unfinished job.

Imani was right. Dahlia's father must have been a friend of the Quarians. Why else would they bear the expense that must have been needed to save her life? Parts of her had to be rebuilt. Other parts could not be saved. A suite of prosthetics and synthetic components were integrated into the survival suit, partially fused to her body, to return some semblance of life to her. She counted herself fortunate that, unlike her Quarian rescuers, she could live without a helmet - although she rarely went without one. When her controversial request to stay with the Fleet was granted, she kept her helmet on both to keep her germs to herself and to better fit in.

Since arriving on Omega, she hadn't removed her helmet. She'd only been on the station for an hour and did not want to look like an easy mark for thugs or crooks. Her omni-tool, a personal customization, would look like a valuable prize - even without hosting a genuine A.I. Accessing the device was a risk, but she needed someone to talk to.

"Shhh. We'll need to keep it down," Dahlia warned the A.I. She was twenty-six years old, but felt very much like a frightened child at the moment.

"I will keep my volume lower, ma'am," the A.I. said in a digitized whisper. Despite the tension wrapping around her like the dank shadows of the Omega tunnel, Dahlia suddenly wished she could find the time and tools to upgrade Pepper's programming. It was embarrassing, but Dahlia had a particular vision in mind for the A.I.

The inspiration came from her parents. Long ago, her father had conspiratorially shared with his daughter his own plans for an A.I. He could trust her with the knowledge. Her mother, on the other hand, would have vehemently dissuaded her husband away from such forbidden technology. However, the personality Tony had outlined for his A.I. program was more in line with a classic butler. When Dahlia began her own clandestine project after being taken in by the Flotilla, she needed the support of a different type of figure.

The smart business suit, the freckles, and other aspects of the A.I. were meant to replicate Dahlia's lost mother. If her father was Dahlia's font of creativity, then her mother was her source of stability. Both parents shared secrets with their daughter. In Virginia "Pepper" Stark's case, she passed along stories of Dahlia's father's wild youth and lingering tendencies. Even as a young woman, Dahlia recognized that her father would have been a wreck without her mother.

"What would the old folks do in this situation?"

"I'm not sure, ma'am. I never met your parents."

"Yeah, I guess this time everything's just on us."

"This tunnel cannot be too comfortable. Finding shelter, as well as provisions, seems like the most pressing priority."

"That's assuming we're planning on staying on Omega."

"Even so, it may take some time to find safe passage off the station...and even longer to afford it."

"Yeah, our exile didn't exactly come with a severance package."

"And if I may be so frank, ma'am: do you actually have any other destination in mind?"

"Would it be hopelessly futile to say that I'd like to go back to the Flotilla?"

"Yes."

"Well then, up for a little exploring, Pepper? If we're going to be here for a while, we'll need to know the lay of the land. I'll hook you into this rock's computers and see what you can scrounge up."

"What should I look for, ma'am?"

"Identify dangerous people and places to keep away from, power players on the station, and folks with a reputation for welcoming outsiders. Also, be on the lookout for any Quarians on Pilgrimage. They probably won't know about my exile, so we may be able to help each other out."