How can you lose everything and expect to get it back?

-A distraught Hannah Shepard confides to a friend following her son's KIA status

Omega, Present Day (Aria)

From the balcony overlooking the club below, I watched those silly people go on their way, dancing, getting drunk, and making a general fool of themselves in full view of the Omega leadership. Trivial beings, all seemingly concerned with favor, with approval, with a pat on the head from the all-powerful, omniscient Aria.

You had your power-hungry fools in the corner, socializing with an air of forced cordiality in their stance as they calculated their chances of rising through the meaningless ranks; the gamblers played their games by the tables, hell bent on making a quick profit; those looking for an easy score lingered by the strippers, following their curves with eager longing evident in their hunched shoulders and bright eyes; there were the drunks by the bar, helping themselves to a vial concoction that would ultimately send them towards oblivion; and then the others, the business partners, the young ones, the 'couples' looking for a drug-induced good time.

My sanctuary.

No weapons, of course. All this energy in one place, with so many variables likely to set it off the wrong way, made the no-weapons rule paramount except with my own personal guards. Krogan bouncers looked tough, but it was the elcor you had to worry about: their eyes could see deep into the infrared. It never stopped those fools from attempting to bring in some item of insurance, however, one small thing that would set the entire thing off...

To kill me, or to kill a rival, it didn't matter, and I made perfectly sure that those on my guard detail were unfailingly loyal—mainly by providing them large, fat paychecks. Greed is a running charciteristic, as flamboyant and nefarious as it is anywhere else. Provide them with a big enough incentive, and anybody will love you. Provide them with their lives, and they will love you even more.

Except those one in a million that will surprise you every damn time.

"Moklan says Shepard's on his way," Garka warned, coming up behind me.

So it was the real Shepard, then. Moklan was the de facto head of my guard, loyal to the bone and fiercely protective of myself and my organization. I'd spent a lot of my personal time to make it so: Moklan was one of the deadliest batarians on this asteroid, and one of the smartest. If he said it was Commander Shepard, then it was.

Visions bloomed in front of my eyes of a day very much like this one, when I was forced to hold audience to young Liara T'Soni and her drell accomplice. They were on a mission to retrieve Shepard's body. . . So Shepard had been dead, and now he was back. How?

"His ship's flagged as Cerberus," Grizz added.

"What?" I snapped, finally glancing over at him. He was holding a datapad in his hand. I held out my hand for it and scanned the few brief, terse lines Moklan had scribbled under the double-encrypt. My heartbeat slowed and steadied as I thought this through. "Well, well, it looks like they've been busy. For what purpose?"

I activated a direct link with the batarian bouncer standing guard outside the large doors leading into the Afterlife. "Three people, two men and a female, are coming shortly. You are to let them in, armed." I rattled off a description of the three of them and waited. It took five minutes for Shepard to make contact with him and pass through the entrance.

"Stay here until Moklan gets back," I told Garka in an undertone, following their arrival with my eyes. Poor Shepard wasn't looking all that well; I wondered what kind of experiments Cerberus were pulling on him. His black hair had been shaved off completely, I noted. He glanced up towards my overlooking balcony, orange lines glowing faintly on his skin. I scowled. His companions, a dark-skinned human and a beautiful pale woman with hair so black it blended into the shadows, were looking around, keeping close to the Commander. They both wore Cerberus logos.

They stepped out of my sight as they began to ascend the stairs. I heard three pairs of footsteps pause as they regarded me, staring out at the stripper podiums below, and then one pair detached itself, coming up slowly. "Aria?" Shepard asked.

"Don't come any closer," I warned him. My guards raised their weapons in unison. I motioned with a tilt of my head for Garka to proceed with the scans.

There was a whirr of an activating omni-tool. "Hold still."

"Try it and you'll be scanning the inside of your colon," Shepard snarled.

I actually laughed. "I'd pay to see that," I told him. "But that's not why you're here. If you're going to talk to me, you get scanned."

"All you had to do was ask nicely," he said aggresively.

"I don't ask."

"I heard you're the person to talk to if I have questions."

"They're clean," Garka said.

I turned then, regarding Shepard. I had to admit, despite myself I was curious to see what kind of man he had to be. Long years of practice told me what sight alone could not: He radiated a powerful intensity, even looking as hellish as he did. His eyes were a striking color of bright green, and they held my own without question. He was threatening and powerful physically, but his eyes spoke of a mental willpower so strong that I felt like taking a step back.

It was all in the eyes.

Being telepathic and blessed with biotic ability as we are, asari learn to look past the physical shell and reach out with our minds to get a small inkling of the character beneath. It always started with the eyes, with the words those eyes spoke alone, before any others. I was more skilled at reading than many of my people. That was how I'd taken care of Patriarch, after turning his whole organization against him. That was how I continued to thrive in a place that wished me dead. And now...

Now I had a feeling that if Shepard wanted my position, he'd simply take it. Death wouldn't stop him.

"That depends on the questions," I said firmly.

"You run Omega?" he asked.

I chuckled, staring at him through my eyelashes. I turned around slowly, deliberately, to look at the stripper podiums on the ground floor below us. "I am Omega." I gave him a long, humorless stare and sat down, folding my fingers across my chest. "But you need more. Everybody needs more something. And they all end up coming to me. I'm the boss, CEO... queen, if you're feeling dramatic. It doesn't matter. Omega has no titled ruler and only one rule: Don't fuck with Aria."

Shepard regarded me carefully. "I have similar rules."

"And on your ship that would matter," I said sharply. "Here, we entertain my preferances."

I gestured for him to take a seat.

"So, what can I do for you?" I asked.

He threw a look at his companions, weighing his words carefully before he spoke. "I'm trying to track down two people. I was thinking you could help me." I didn't speak. "Archangel and Mordin Solus, specifically."

"You're looking for Archangel, too?" I asked. "You and half of Omega. Good luck."

"What's he been up to?"

"Archangel thinks he's fighting on the side of good. It's a misnomer: there is no good side on Omega. Everything he does pisses someone off, and it's finally catching up to him."

"Well, I'm putting a team together. He's on my list."

I allowed an appraising glance. "Interesting. You'll be making some enemies, teaming up with Archangel. That's even assuming you can get to him—he's in a bit of trouble right now."

"What kind of trouble?"

"The local merc groups are recruiting anyone with a gun to help them take out Archangel," I said, a plan beginning to form in my mind. I nearly smiled at the simplicity of it. "They're using a private room for recruiting... just over there." I jerked my chin towards the right stairwell. "I'm sure they'll sign you up."

"You're not in on it?" he asked. "If he's pissing everybody off, why hasn't it pissed you off?"

"Archangel's a smart guy: he's always known to stay away from me," Aria said. "He's got quite the fight on his hands, though. Blood Pack, Blue Suns, and Eclipse pooled together all their resources to take him out. Quite impressive, really, if you're into the whole irony of the situation. He had a team for a while, about ten or so aliens, but Blood Pack tracked them down in the end. Ambushed them all. And now Archangel is the only one left... I'm curious to know how long he can stand the guns firing at him until he feeds himself a bullet just to avoid the torture that's sure to come."

"Why are you giving me all this information?" he asked suspisciously. His eyes glinted dangerously. "Aren't you afraid the mercs will get angry?"

"Are you going to go tell them?" I challenged. "If you're off to save Archangel, then more power to you. But you're not going to get in by parading about it."

"Then how much is this information going to cost me?" he pressed.

I chuckled. "It's free. Consider my services a gift."

"A gift," he echoed. "What did I do to deserve this nice gift, then?"

He'd never know, if I could help it. "Don't ask questions," I told him. "Just take it."

"Alright."

"See? That wasn't so hard. You better get over there soon, though. They're about to pack up."

Shepard's eyes drifted over my shoulder, towards the small door I'd pointed out minutes ago. He stood. "Thanks for the time."

"If you do happen to save Archangel, Shepard," I added, "thank him for me. He never screwed with my organization. The least I can do is send somebody to save him."

"Do you know who Archangel is?" Shepard asked.

"Nobody does. It's a mystery. I'm sure you'll figure it out."

They left, and I closed my eyes. Moklan appeared out of thin air, taking his customary seat on my right side. "Fargut is making trouble again. I had to run him off of Shepard. We might have to take care of him."

"He's an annoyance," I conceeded, "but not a threatening one. Did he know who Shepard was, or was it just random curiousity?"

"Couldn't tell for sure," Moklan muttered. "How the hell did we know Shepard was in Omega space, anyway?"

"Confidential tip-off," I said. "I was offered a lot of credits to take him in to my territory."

"By who?"

"I don't know," I said, disgruntled. "I'm going to be doing some digging, though. Shepard's liable to make more trouble for me than the credits are worth. I want you to jury-rig a protocol that pings us every time he so much as looks in this system, understand?"

"Yes, Aria," Moklan said. He stood and went to take care of it.

Credits were just a means to an end. I didn't care for them and didn't need them to stay happy, but they were practical... and four million of them were just transferred to my account. But I would have taken Shepard in anyway with no cost, if only because he would prove to be useful to me in the future. The other reason went deeper, more personal than that. His green eyes, so intense and calculating, reminded me of-

I had to stop thinking about this.

(Joker)

"What do you mean, you won't be able to contact them?" I asked, twisting around in my seat to glare at EDI. "I thought you were some type of all-access wi-fi node thingy."

"You are incorrect, Mr. Moreau," EDI's soft, feminine voice stated. "I can still be thwarted by unanticipated firewalls and data streams using unfamiliar algorithms. The Blue Suns have communicational-jamming equipment that dwarfs most military institutions. I am currently looking for a way around their system."

"Yeah, great," I muttered, turning back to my controls. "Watch Shepard get in trouble and be like 'Oh, hey, Joker, where the hell were you? Miranda's dead, Jacob's captured by talking varren, and I don't have any pants!'"

"That is not possible," EDI commented. "Varren can not talk, and Commander Shepard is wearing armor, not pants."

"Eh, same difference." Did it have to be so annoying? I was kind of glad it wasn't saying that there was no possible way Miranda could die, though. That was a plus. There was loyalty and then there was obsession. At least Cerberus made their AI's smart enough to tell the difference between them. "The point is, I don't like being out of the loop. When do you think you can tap in to the comms?"

"They have only disabled long-range transmissions. If I can somehow place a node within their protective bubble, I will—ah, it has worked. We can now contact Commander Shepard, and vice versa."

"Great," I muttered. I pulled up tracking information from his suit's computer. "Looks like he's downstairs—way downstairs."

Then, without warning, EDI opened up a direct line. "Shepard, I've scanned the area, but I am unable to plot any other paths to Archangel."

"Guess we're going with the mercs." Shepard sounded resigned, like we'd fallen below what he'd expected.

"The heavy mechs they possess have considerable firepower," EDI continued. "Weakening them before leaving will improve your chances."

(Shepard)

Archangel had a nice fortress set up here, I couldn't help but think. He was holed up on the other side of a bridge, which happened to be the only way across, and he was busy. Shots rang out in the still air, its echoes bouncing off of the steel with stattaco thack-thacks that made me want to plug my ears. It didn't seem to matter who was shooting, because the mercs were losing and Archangel was still shooting, like it was some strange, enjoyable game only he could comprehend. We jogged, slightly hunched, out of the direct line of fire. He was racking 'em up, as the old military saying went.

Aria hadn't been lying: Blood Pack, Eclipse, and Blue Suns were mixed together in this ragtag group, taking cover by hastily-made barricades. Sometimes one would poke his head out at the wrong moment to spray a stream of bullets in Archangel's direction only to be punched backwards by a round moving too fast to see. I passed a lot of dying vorcha.

Jaroth, the salarian leader of the Eclipse, was temperamental and had more things on his mind than a man with glowing orange scars walking unchecked through his area. His loss.

There was a datapad wedged between two stacks of crates that caught my eye, though. I could tell it was still in Sleep Mode by the softly-blinking white light next to the power button. I made a face. Amateaurs. Discreetly, I passed my hand over the general direction of the datapad, activating a retriever program. I waited until we were in another hallway, well away from anybody else, before I checked out the results of the find.

It looked like the Eclipse were planning to move against Aria next. Interesting. I filed that information away for later.

I followed the hallways in to a large, open area, ducking under the barricades as I did so. If Archangel shot me, I had a feeling Miranda would have something to say about that, considering her temper. "So where are these mechs at, EDI?" I murmured.

"I am uploading the coordinates to your omni-tool, Commander Shepard," said EDI. "If you get within physical proximity of the heavy mech, I may be able to sabotage it's IFF."

I need absolutes here, EDI. "Copy that."

Miranda unlocked the doors leading in to the main storage section, wiping out the surveillance cameras as she did so. "Quickly, in here," she said, ushering us inside before closing the doors. "EDI, do your work."

I placed my hand on the large heavy mech stacked in the corner—there was only one, thank God—and activated the omni-tool. Rolling numbers, faster than my eyes could comprehend, dashed over the orange holographic screen before winking with a green light and extinguishing itself. "Done," said EDI.

"Good. Let's get out of here."

"Wait, Commander—there's some medi-gel stashed here. I'm grabbing it." Jacob began to stuff small red containers from the top of a large stack of boxes into the black, durable backpack hanging over his shoulders. "You never know, right?"

"Good thinking," said Miranda. "But hurry up—we have no idea if anybody saw us coming in."

"Done. Let's go."

We stepped out, trying not to look overly conspicious about it, but no hostile eyes followed our exit. "Things sure as hell change in two years..." I mused.

"Of course," Miranda said. "But what exactly are you referring to?"

"The mechs. What made the Council sanction them? Why aren't there regulations?"

"After Sovereign's attack on the Citadel C-Sec losses were in record lows," she said. "Hahne-Kedar used to produce them solely for Alliance colonial worlds, but money motivates all; soon enough C-Sec was petitioning the human embassy for a direct trade between the two companies. Hahne-Kedar gets the money, C-Sec gets a share of the mechs. A few weeks into it the company was victim of industrial espoiange and dozens of larger mirror companies popped up. The Council stepped in and put heavy sanctions against their use, but they needed the additional security and everybody knew it. There wasn't much they could do."

"Money motivates all," I echoed, a bad taste in my mouth. "Any groups against it?"

Jacob gave a bark of laughter. "You know it, Commander."

"They've been in assembly for ten years, Commander," Miranda said. "It's only recently they've come under any sort of spotlight."

I knew that, obviously. I'd seen a mech demonstration while I'd been training in the N7 program at the Arcturus Station. Ten soldiers against five LOKI mechs and one YMR in the large, simulated battleground we used for mock fights between regiments. Seven men went down to the nonlethal weapons, and the remaining three were battered and sweaty when they finally brought down the threat. It was a giant publicity leap for Hahne-Kedar, though our instructors weren't too happy about the narrow victory. After that, new training regimens against mechs were put into place. I'd only had to modify them slightly to fight the geth.

My communicator pinged. "Commander, looks like Archangel's alone in there," Joker said. "I'm not picking up any life-signs inside that place, bio or synthetic. He's really holding them all off."

"That's basically why we're recruiting him, Joker."

"Good call."

"Anything else?"

"Nothing really, except that you might want to stop the sneaky conversation and get going."

"They're mobilizing for attack," EDI clarified.

I shut off the line and nodded across the way where you could just see, illuminated by an orange light, our next target. "Jacob, Miranda—fan out, act casual. Keep your lines open."

"Yes, Commander."

"Yes, sir."

In the end, my job was really too easy.

"Just a nice, relaxing day at the beach—shooting bad guys with my boomstick." Yeah, I understood the feeling. This could have been Virmire all over again, going behind enemy lines—quite literally, in fact—to reach an isolated target, where the geth just lined up all nice and proper for us, their backs turned, focused on the bigger threat.

Captain Kirrahe better be happy, wherever he is. I really hope so.

For our plan to be successful, we had to be at the tip of the spear, right behind the first wave but not too far in the back to allow the other mercs to have the remotest chance. There was also the slight issue of having Archangel snipe our heads off before we even had a chance to make our way up, so speed was also going to be very vital. And when they hear us take out their buddies, we'll be caught between a hammer and nail, make no mistake, I thought grimly.

I took cover behind a utility box, one of many lined on the sides, and dropped a mine wired to my omni-tool surreptiously behind me. A merc slid into place beside me, already panting, a feral gleam in his hazed-over eyes. "Good night for it."

"The best," I agreed, and shot him.

"Commander, they're setting up an explosive at the base's mouth," Jacob informed me.

"Miranda, can you get a reading on it?"

"No need—it's not even armed properly."

"Rack 'em up."

I glanced behind me and made a break for the other side of the bridge to set down yet another mine. Time to move, Shepard! I switched to my sniper rifle, laying it down flat on the box, and took out the three in front with the best chance to reach Archangel. A few had already made a break for the stairs. I sprinted for the cover of the building and ducked behind a large black couch.

An explosion. Screams. They say the oddest things can jump your memory back days, months, or even years. I wasn't in the battle any longer, and I was floating, floating... Pain, I could remember pain, and the screams. Blood pounding in my ears. Wet liquid dripping into my gasping mouth.

"-Shepard! Shepard!"

"I'm here," I answered automatically, dry-swallowing a couple of times to remove the rusty taste from my mouth. I blinked a few times, and the dark, distressing view of the Normandy blurred back to the slightly less horrifying sight of mercenaries trying to kill us. "What's up?"

Miranda sounded slightly harassed. "That explosion took out half of the stiarcase leading up to the landing. We'll have to climb. Are you okay?"

"I... spaced out for a moment. Here now."

"Get in front of me, Commander. Jacob, take point."

"No. No, I'm fine." At least, I thought I was. I'd never had a flashback like that before. Everything was so real. "Shield status?"

"Still full, the both of us."

Cerberus. They must have given them a substational upgrade to make up for the lack of armor. I glanced up from my cover and confirmed what Miranda had already said. There were no mercs between us and the stairs, but there were a lot behind us, and even the window-lickers must have realized that we weren't exactly on their side.

A streak of white darted past me. I twisted around to watch Miranda walk up the rubble of the former staircase like a pro, jumping upwards to grasp the fragile edge with strong, formidable fingertips. With the strength of her arms alone she pulled herself up and ducked beneath the railing. A tense moment, then: "A few proximity mines, but I've disabled them. Jacob, help the Commander up."

I wasn't sure I could make the movement look as graceful as Miranda, but I sure as hell wasn't going to tell her that. "Belay that. Taylor, cover me."

"Yes, sir."

I took a starting jog, holstering the pistil at my hip as I tried to plot my way upwards. I could see Miranda's pale face looking at me with distaste, a slight shimmering of the air around her.

I'd been a victim of biotic attacks enough in my life to know the difference between a bone-crushing slam in the ass and a helpful hand up. Though this was clearly the latter, I was hard put not to react the way I'd been trained and deflect the force towards another object like I'd had to do in the past.

I soared the extra meter and a half through the air and landed heavily next to Miranda. "Warn me if you have to do that again," I said, glancing out of cover towards the sound of gunfire. "Taylor, you're next. Think you can make it?"

"Are you kidding?" I couldn't tell if that was a negative or a positive. A few more shots from his position and he launched himself upwards. I caught his elbow and hauled him up. Laying on his back, he appraised Miranda with an amused look on his face. I couldn't even begin to fathom whatever joke was going on between them. "Time to get Archangel, I think, Commander."

The door leading to Archangel's hole was well-guarded by a variety of turian-manufactored devices. I stooped to examine an almost-invisible mine in the corner, wondering...

"Commander, I'm about to bust the door. Take cover."

I motioned Miranda towards the mine. "I've seen this before."

She stared at it. "Relevance?"

"It's a jury-rig I've only seen one person use before. See the energy composition? That's Tali's work. She's the-"

"-quarian we met on Freedom's Progress," Miranda finished. "Are you sure, Shepard?"

Archangel appeared about two years ago. Turian. Sniper. Tactician. Hits the bad guys where it hurts. Acquired Tali's technology.

It was almost too easy. I hit my omni-tool and opened up an old, old frequency. "Glad to see you, Garrus."

The locks to the door detached, and almost instantaniously the traps disarmed. Miranda's mouth had opened in a slight 'o' of surprise and trying not to allow the smirk cross my face too much, I waved my hand in front of the door. A green activation light shone, granting me access.

Archangel, armed to the teeth, stared down a long, heavily-modded sniper rifle of human design. The back of him was all we could see, as he was facing the balcony that gave him an all-encompassing view of the bridge we'd just crossed. He raised one clawed finger, gesturing for us to wait patiently, and adjusted his aim like an expert—which he was. His finger squeezed off a shot, the recoil barely noticeable, and he paused for a full three seconds before withdrawing. He set the sniper rifle aside and flicked a switch on the wall: strong, hardened glass of an alien design slid over the open window just as a bolt thudded into it with an unsatisfying pink. It barely even cracked it.

He turned. "Shepard..."

"Garrus!" I crossed over and hugged my old friend. "We've come to bust you out."

Garrus removed his helmet, showing a face I could've recognized in a sea of turians. Of course, not all of them look so surprised. "Of all the people to find me... it had to be you," he said in wonderment.

"Of all the people to get in this mess, it had to be you," I countered.

"Shepard—you're dead."

"I was. I'll explain later. Right now, we need to get you out. Status report."

Garrus evaluated me for a full three seconds, and I was suddenly aware of how much older he looked. He'd seen a lot of battles since the Normandy's destruction. He took a seat on a box, unconcerned about the multitude of bullets pounding the window pane, and just stared at me. I looked back at him expectadly, keeping my thoughts to myself.

"Let's start out easy," I said. "How the hell did you piss off every merc band on Omega?"

"It wasn't easy." There was a trace of humor in his voice. "I really had to work at it... my superiors at C-Sec would be proud."

"You've been through hell."

"It looks like we both have. Once we get out of here, we'll swap stories."

"We will," I agreed, moving towards the window. "Nice tech. You been set up here for a while?"

"A year and a half. We renovated it, added some black market items. This is the same type of glass they use for the Council's windows back on the Citadel."

I whistled. "Nothing short of a Reaper will break through it. We should know. What about the rest of the base?"

"I disarmed most of them as soon as I saw you land. I haven't been sitting here waiting all these years, Shepard. I have spy cams set up all over this district. Soon as I realized it was you I keyed your energy readings into the exempt list. You don't have anything to worry about. Nice job sabotaging the gunships and the mechs, by the way. I was sure I'd need Tali for it or something, but..." He shrugged, but I could tell he was pleased. Perhaps even more pleased than I was, but afraid to admit it. "There are a variety of turrets set up behind the lines, too."

"Looks like paranoia kept you safe," Jacob mused.

"There was a batarian on our team. Could hack through anything, given the time. Most of the security arrangements were his idea... not that I'm complaining." He nodded towards the window. "But I can't take them all out alone. I've been holding out so well so far because of this crap, but I'm low on everything. You came just in time... as always."

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

"Did you get an overview of their plans?"

I nodded, then explained the main idea I'd been given when I landed.

"We'll hold out," Garrus muttered, stroking the barrel of his sniper rifle. He glanced out the window. "Looks like the first wave's coming. Just like old times."

I stared out the window with distaste, ignoring the pings of bullets on glass. "Suppose we better take care of the mechs..."

"And here comes the heavy..."

The heavy hit the bridge with a thud and assembled itself. I watched, not really that interested, as it turned on it's fellows. "Bring up the window, Garrus. Lay low and take a rest. We have this."

He looked like he hadn't slept in a while. A soldier takes what rest he can. But, to my surprise, he said, "Window's going up, but I can't sleep. I'll sit here and take them out from up here. Deal?"

"There's no time to argue. If you think you're still up to it, we'll cover you..." I glanced back at Miranda and Jacob, a half-formed plan forming in my mind. "You two go downstairs and cut them off if any get past us."

They left, and I lined up with my sniper. "New crew," Garrus commented, squeezing off a shot. "I kind of preferred the old one more."

"Me, too." I sighted up on the salarian captain, Jaroth, as he poked his head from the crate I'd been using earlier. The YMR mech immediately took a bead on him and he ducked back again. I moved on to other, more pleasing targets. "I know this is a tiny bit odd right now. I promise I will explain everything when we get to the ship."

"The ship... new one?" Garrus hadn't been on the Normandy when I died, I recalled. He'd been accepted back into C-Sec and was trying to lock horns with the upper echelon.

"New one," I agreed. "And even better."

"You're working for Cerberus. I saw their logos. You know what they're like."

I squeezed off a few more shots. "A human-centric, biodegradable, insane group of geniuses. They haven't changed, except that we're on the same side now. The enemy of my enemy is my friend."

"You saw what they did to Kahoku."

I pursed my lips. "Yes."

"You wouldn't do this unless you had a reason," Garrus said, softer now, as if he were speaking to himself. "I can't even think of anything that would make you take their side... except I suppose they took yours. Damn."

"Shepard!" Jacob sounded harassed. "That mech isn't going to last much longer. Miranda and I are going to push it across the barrier before it goes boom, but those things have a bigger impact if they die from a headshot. Have your buddy put a round through it's optics when you see a chance."

"Affirmative."

"Cover me," said Garrus, carefully adjusting his aim. I sniped at a few of the stragglers and paused to reload. The heavy mech lifted into the air as if pulled by an invisible gravity well, gliding foreword and over the barrier. I could hear surprised screams. Garrus fired. The mech dropped. "Blast window going up."

I heard the explosion from outside, but didn't feel it. I supposed that was good. I looked up. The mercenaries and LOKI mechs were scattering, though the latter continued their assault like nothing had happened. Jacob and Miranda made short work of them, but Jaroth was still alive out there... somewhere.

I saw his head appear over the crates. I didn't even pause to think about it—I activated my omni-tool and sent out a command activating the blasting mine I'd placed underneath him just a few minutes ago. He soared through the air, his limbs reaching out to grasp at anything that would keep him up, his mouth open in a scream I couldn't hear. He hit the ceiling hard, then crashed down on the bridge railing. He fell off to the side, disappearing in the depths below.

"Looks like they've retreated," Garrus said, stating the obvious. "That was much easier than I was expecting. I could almost get used to you being alive again, Commander."

Only almost? Turians. "Now I remember why I felt that slight doomsday impression when I realized it was you, Vakarian—you invariably piss off any major criminal organization within a one-hundred mile radius."

"We still have two more to go," he said, jogging over towards a group of bunk beds to check a holographic display I hadn't noticed before. His fingers flew over the keys, executing sudo commands I didn't recognize. "Thank you, Tali," he muttered to himself, frowning intently at the readout displays. "I'm activating the turrets at sporadic intervals, but only to take out the barrier guys... looks like Blood Pack's moved out, and the Blue Suns are mobilizing. Blue Suns are the worst, but the Blood Pack... they're formidable. Their leader, Garm? I cornered him at his base. He was completely alone. I thought I could do it, but I've never seen a krogan regen that fast. I only escaped by a hair... and they still tracked me here."

"Even the best mess up sometimes," I told him, coming over the study the display. I could see the various camera views swirling around in a mess of interconnectivity that it seemed only turians could comprehend. From what I saw, his info was accurate. "You ever think to install security below in the tunnels?"

"I've sealed the door, but that's it," said Garrus. "There are three doors we'll need to lock manually, but once they're locked they're locked. We won't be able to escape that way."

"I'll get it done," I promised. I hit the comlink. "Miranda, get up here and give Garrus a hand. Taylor, we're heading to the lower levels to ward off the Blood Pack."

Garrus looked up, a frown on his alien features. "You sure? I don't want to leave you a member short-"

"We'll be fine." I winked. "Trust me."

"If I could count the number of times you've said that and things went to hell..."

"The number would be zero." I jogged away, collapsing my sniper rifle and drawing out my pistil. "Virmire... that doesn't really count. We got the job done." Did I really just say that? Kaiden got the effing job done, not me. It couldn't have gone off in time without him. "Stay in touch. Old frequency, got it?"

I didn't wait for a reply and offered a helping hand to Miranda as she climbed up the rubble that was once a nice-looking staircase. She ignored it and took a good look at me in the eyes. "I'll keep him safe, Commander."

"Do the best you can. I'd feel kind of cheated if he died on me now."

Garrus snorted.