"This is the ASV Jack, requesting clearance to land."

Static.

"This is the ASV Jack. Do you copy?" Hera frowned at the comm system, then glanced at Garrus.

"Don't look at me, Shep. Comm's green."

The sound of harsh coughing cut through the silence, followed by a man's voice. "Oh, uh, hi there. Sorry, you caught me, um, in the middle of something."

"Uh, hi back," said Hera. "This is the ASV Jack – "

"Oh, yeah, okay. Heard you the first two times," the man's voice drawled. "Well, come on down. There's no – heh heh – lineor anything. Umm, yeah, out." The comm clicked silent.

"This far out of the way, things are likely to be a little more . . . informal, I guess," said Garrus as Hera broke atmo and took the ship down. "Maybe he was about to take a nap."

Hera said nothing, although she silently agreed.

The spaceport was tiny, barely more than a landing pad and a shack. Dusty wind and acid rain had nearly worn the markings on the pad away. Shepard put the ship down and she and Garrus stepped on to the surface.

"You take me to the most charming places," said Garrus, surveying the bleak landscape. The jagged rocks reminded him of broken teeth, and everything was in shades of grey, from slate to soot. "How did you know I love desolation more than anything else in the entire galaxy?"

"Stow it, Garrus," Hera retorted. She was still a little raw from the way he had ripped into her on the way here.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Commander," he said. "Wait . . . you're not my commander anymore. So I guess I'm not sorry." He looked at the shack. "I'm going to build a summer home here, live out the few rest of my days with this lovely view."

Hera sighed. She was going to have to be the one to stow it. It was a foreign concept to her, but Garrus had literally nothing to lose and could keep at her all day.

The shack's door banged open and a human man, wearing a cowboy hat, goggles, a dirty leather jacket, and workboots, stumbled out and promptly fell down the stairs.

"Hera," said Garrus. "That man is not wearing pants."

"I see that. I wish I could unsee it."

The man got to his feet. "Hey, there," he said.

"Hey," said Hera.

"Uh, yeah. Hey," said Garrus.

"Hey," said the pantsless human again. He blinked. "Oh, yeah, right, you guys just landed."

Garrus looked at Hera. She avoided his gaze.

"Well, come on in," the man continued. "Let's get you all, you know, registered and whatnot."

As they followed him up the stairs, Garrus muttered, "I think he might be stoned."

"You bet I am," said the man. "Hell yes. Do you think I could sit out here at the ass end of space and not get high? I'd lose my shit within a week."

"Well, I guess I can't begrudge you that," said Garrus. "What do you see when you look at the landscape, then, in your, ah, state of mind? Butterflies and moonbeams?"

"Nah, pretty much the same shit you see. Just kinda . . . blurrier."

"I can see how that would be an improvement."

The man led them inside the shack and took off his goggles. The sound of the wind diminished slightly as he slammed the door shut.

"Okay, let's get you two checked in and start this party up proper." He tapped the console and it buzzed to life. Immediately, the room filled with music – guitars, and guitars again.

Garrus gave a start. "Hey, wait . . . I know this. This is from Earth." He looked at Hera.

She shrugged. "Got me."

"Yeah, it's . . . what the hell is it?" Garrus looked at the ceiling. "It's gonna bug me all day if I can't remember. Man, I haven't heard this in years."

The man smirked. "You'll figure it out in about thirty seconds."

"Wait, I got it," said Garrus, as the vocals began – what'll you do when you get lonely? – "It's, uh, Darin, no – Derek! Derek and the . . . Legos? No, Dominoes! Derek and the Dominoes! Layla!" He grinned triumphantly.

"Give the man a prize, didn't even wait for the chorus," said the controller. "But for the bonus point, can you name the guitarist?"

Garrus's brow furrowed. "Uhhh, Derek?"

"Well, nice try. Eric. Eric Clapton. Some folks thought he was a god back on Earth in the 20th. Glad you like the –heh heh – tunes, man." He turned to Hera. "What do you think, lady?"

"Never heard it."

"Well, you've been missing out."

Garrus cast a meaningful glance at Hera. "Funny, I was just telling her the same thing on the way here."

Her jaw clenched, but she said nothing.

The man turned back to Garrus and extended a hand. "Nice to meet you, brother. I'm Zig. Zignitowski Poporovich. Most people just call me Dude, though." Garrus shook his hand.

"Dude, huh?" said Hera.

"Yep." The man grabbed a smoldering joint from an ashtray on the console desk, flipped it over in his fingers and offered it to Garrus. "Want a smoke?"

"Uh, no thanks, not right now. We are here on business, actually . . . but, well, hmm. Do you grow that here, uh, Dude?"

"Are you kidding, man? What could grow here?" Dude offered the joint to Hera, who shook her head. "Nah, I have a border ship that stops by about once a month. I clear them through, no questions, they drop me an ounce. Nice arrangement." He eyed them, suddenly suspicious. "Are you guys cops?"

"Well, I used to be," said Garrus. "But no longer. Maybe when we're done with our business here, I might be able to make you a deal. It's been a while."

Hera rolled her eyes. "Really, Garrus?"

"Really, Hera. Let this old man have a little fun on his last mission."

"Alright – heh heh – to business," said Dude. "What brings you here? Gotta write it down, you can go do whatever, and I can started on my nap."

"We're looking for someone."

And that was when the door exploded.

Hera and Garrus both dropped to the floor, their weapons in their hands. Dude stood gaping at the hole where the door used to be.

"Wow, man, someone really knows how to harsh a guy's mellow . . ."

Garrus looked at Hera. "How did they know we were here?"

She shrugged. "No idea."

A voice from outside suddenly called out. "Come on out, Dude. It's the only way."

Garrus and Hera looked at each other, then up at Dude.

"Ah, fuck," he said, dropping to the floor alongside them. "Sevak."

"You've got until the count of three," called the voice.

"Look, can you guys help me here?" Dude pleaded.

"One!"

"Depends," said Garrus. "Can you tell us where we can find . . . uh, what's our contact's name, Shepard?"

"Zignitowski Poporovich. Also known as Dude."

"What?"

"Two!"

"He's our guy?"

"Yep."

"Oh, fuck. Again," said Dude.

"Yep," Hera repeated.

"I guess we've got no choice, then," said Garrus.

"Nope."

"Three!"

Gunfire erupted into the shack, tearing into the console, which stopped mercifully just as the playout from "Layla" was getting started. The windows shattered. The rest of the hardware was torn to shreds. The firing stopped, and a batarian stepped through the ragged hole as the dust settled. Two human mercs, wearing the colors of the Blue Suns, flanked him.

"Get his body," the leader said. "No matter how many holes are in it. We need proof –"

But that was as far as he got. Having a pistol muzzle suddenly thrust against your temple will shut most people up, and it certainly did the trick for the merc.

"Sevak, I presume?" said Hera. "Call off your dogs."

But before the batarian could speak, his henchmen turned and fired. Garrus, already on the move, ducked under and closed the distance before the human got off a second shot. He pulled the rifle from the merc's hards and slammed his robotic fist into the man's face. The merc crumpled to the ground.

Hera was not so lucky. The shot penetrated her armor, grazed her shoulder. She turned her pistol on the merc, but Sevak took the opportunity to spin away, bringing up his own weapon.

Garrus pointed his rifle at Sevak, Sevak at Hera, Hera at the human merc, and the merc at Garrus. They stood frozen there, eyes wide, weapons ready to fire at the twitch of a finger.

"Wow, man," came Dude's drawling voice from under the remains of the shack. "I can't wait to see what happens next."

A small object rolled into the middle of the four soldiers. Garrus risked a glance down with his cybernetic eye. Flash grenade. "Hera, eyes!"

The grenade exploded, bright as the sun. Sevak and the other merc screamed and covered their eyes, dropping to the ground.

As their eyes refocused, they found themselves staring down the barrel of Garrus and Hera's pistols.

"Now, nobody move," said Hera. "We have some questions."

"I will not answer," said Sevak.

"Then you will have several rounds enter your body at locations of my choosing. None fatal, but most definitely painful."

"What do you want to know?"

"That's more like it," said Shepard. "Who sent you?"

"The Shadow Broker."

Hera reversed her grip on her weapon and slammed it into the batarian's ear. Blood flew from the impact and he rolled over on his side.

"Do. Not. Lie. To. Me. Again." Hera hissed.

"Okay, okay!" said the batarian. "We've been working with Eclipse and the Blood Pack – "

"We know this already. Start spilling –" She moved the pistol over his kneecap. " – or I will."

"It came on a disc, with our usual assignments, no ID! The instructions were to kill the target, retrieve the body, and if there was any question, say the Shadow Broker sent us."

"Not good enough!" Hera cocked her pistol and leveled it at the merc's head.

"I have the disc! It's in our speeder!"

"That's a start. Where do you pick up your assignments?"

"It's a shipping transfer station on Illium."

"Okay," said Hera. "You've bought yourself a few more breaths." She holstered her weapon, then kicked Sevak in the face. His body went limp.

"Wow, man," said Dude, climbing out from under the shack. "You're kind of a badass . . . for an old lady."

"Well, I've been doing this sort of thing since, oh, before you were born," replied Hera. "Thanks for the flash-bang."

"Sure. Glad I could bring something to the party."

"Shoulder okay, Shep?" asked Garrus.

She grimaced. "Not really, can't move that arm too well right now, but we'll slap some medi-gel on it when we get back to the ship. I'll be all right."

"Okay. Oh, I almost forgot," said Garrus. He pulled back his arm to knock the other merc out –

"Wait a second, man," interrupted Dude. "I got something that'll knock him out without all the – heh heh – violence."

Garrus hesitated. "I like violence. But," he dropped his arm. "Okay."

Dude disappeared into the remains of the shack and returned a second later with a tiny bottle.

"This, I was saving for a special occasion. But . . . oh well."

"No, wait!" cried the man.

Dude tipped about half the bottle down the protesting merc's throat. The man's eyes opened wide, then rolled back white in his head, and he fell to the ground.

"Well, he'll have some far-out nightmares tonight, that's for sure," said Dude.

Garrus was intrigued. "What is that?"

"Adrenal fluid from a thresher maw."

Garrus and Hera's jaws dropped as one. "What?"

"Yeah, man – totally crazy hallucinogen. Reflects the character of the person taking it. Laid back guy like me – "

"Smuggler," pointed out Hera.

"Man's gotta make a living," shrugged Dude. "I don't hurt anyone. I just get paid. So I take that, I got – what did you say?" he asked, nodding at Garrus. "Butterflies and moonbeams? Yeah. That. But this guy, he's gonna have a dark, dark night. Full of creepy crawlies."

"You don't hurt anybody, huh?" asked Hera. "Ever smuggle guns?"

"Well, yeah, but – look, if I didn't, someone else would."

Hera arched an eyebrow. "Glad that helps you see your butterflies and moonbeams."

Dude met her gaze, then dropped it. "Whatever, man."

Garrus cleared his throat. "Okay, let's get these three trussed up. I'll go get the disc. Illium next?"

Hera nodded, rubbing her injured shoulder. "Yeah."

Garrus walked off, following the mercs' tracks.

Hera looked at Dude. "And you," she said. "Put some pants on."

"And don't forget my weed!" called Garrus over his shoulder.