Chapter 9

Shepard leaned over the bar staring down into the shallow remains in her glass. The bartender reached for it. She slapped a hand on top of it.

"I'm still drinking that."

"Another?"

"Better not."

The man shrugged. He moved down the bar at a turien waving an empty cup.

"Commander Shepard, right?"

A gorilla of a man sat next to her on a stool. She frowned clutching her glass and turned on her barstool. She hopped off.

"Where you going? I wanted to buy …"

She was already halfway across the bar. Really a seedy kind of place. Too techno and low-lifed even for Garrus. The whole time, he'd looked around them wondering who they'd see knifed first. He'd wondered if they'd still make the morning news if drug authorities burst through the door right then. Either way, it was a perfect place for right now. Except, she wished she didn't look like Commander Shepard. A group of men in the corner leered at her as she passed. She flopped down in a corner booth and glared at a quarrian crossing the room toward her. He stopped. She glared harder, and he backed up and turned back to the bar.

She rested back into the bench cushions and pushed her glass around in front of her on the table. She flicked on her Omni-Tool and squinted into the orange glow. She'd missed a call from Miranda. Shepard deleted the prompt. She was tired of playing the sick patient. She slouched down on the bench and searched through pages of new footage on her screen. Her fingers paused. She settled her head against the bench and stared at the screen on her forearm. She smiled.

"Who's that?" a voice said over her shoulder.

Shepard bolted upright and snapped the Omni-Tool screen down. She spun around. Aria T'Loak slid her fingers along the top of the bench as she circled around and sat beside her.

"Aria."

"Commander Shepard."

"What are you doing?"

"On Earth or in the Dungeon? Surely, you knew I was on Earth?"

"I'd heard something about it."

Aria reclined into the seat. Shepard scooted over to make room as Aria folded her legs out under the table.

"No bodyguards?" Shepard glanced around.

"I can take care of myself."

"I thought it was more for status."

"What status?" Aria hissed. "You heard what happened to Omega? You helped me retake it. Shouldn't have bothered."

"Yeah," Shepard murmured. "Reapers don't really seem to care about the effort I put into things. If there was something worth destroying, they helped themselves."

"So they did," Aria said looking over at Shepard. "You're the first face I've cared to see in who knows how long."

"Haven't made any friends?"

"I have my hired connections. Merc's here and there. Hoped to still be useful to the Council but apparently not. Alliance seems to agree."

"Your Blue Suns shot down two Alliance cruisers."

"My Blue Suns?" Aria rolled her eyes lazily. "Everyone knows they aren't my Blue Suns. They threw me off, took off on their own. I didn't direct them to steal that warship. Wouldn't have bothered. Now what good are they? They're fugitives dashing around the Sol system, hitting cargo vessels to find their next meal."

"Yeah, well, you conveniently lost control of them right before they killed a hundred Alliance personnel."

"Lost control?" Aria said softly. "You have no control without fear. Hard to inspire fear when I'm stranded here. Power over no one. Power over nothing. Laughing stock of the Council. And the Alliance."

"They're giving you some award, aren't they?" Shepard asked with a sigh.

"A medal and a plaque? Think that makes up for not backing me on Omega? On the Citadel, my mercs were killing themselves to support my agreement with the Council. Omega gets targeted? Nothing. Apparently, a Council aid agreement works one way."

"Everyone's aid agreement worked that way. It was war on a galaxy wide level, Aria."

"Wouldn't even let me recall my mercs. I couldn't get word to them they were so scattered. Now Omega's a floating cloud of dust in the Terminus system."

"Like Arcturus, like Betariuva, like Taurten." Shepard sighed again.

"And, will a plaque make up for what you've lost, Shepard? We can get our picture together at the award ceremony I hear."

"Sure, let's plan on it." Shepard gazed droopily around the room.

Aria eyed her with a sly smile. "What are you doing here? All alone. The great Commander Shepard."

Shepard tapped the glass in front of her as an answer. A thin veil of amber sloshing around the bottom.

"Look's almost empty," Aria said.

"Eh, just not full." Shepard put an elbow on the table and moved the glass around with her other hand. "Not full at all."

Aria stared at her. "Commander Shepard has rough nights, too, then."

"You're having a rough night?" Shepard asked.

"Every night is a rough night." Aria spread her arms across the back of the bench. "I'm a nobody now living on a planet of ingrates."

"Planet of ingrates?" Shepard frowned. "Losing Omega's made you pretty sour. Everyone's in the same boat. We've all lost something."

"Right," Aria muttered looking around the room, then turned her attention back to Shepard.

Shepard picked up her glass and swallowed the last mouthful.

"That, what you lost?" Aria asked. "Your little picture there? News vid, was it?"

"What?" Shepard frowned.

"On your Omni-Tool. Don't bother to be coy, I saw it. Mooning over some man?"

"No." Shepard shoved her glass away and sat back in her seat.

"I recognized him. One of your crew. I bothered to look them over before deciding I couldn't trust them to recover Omega. For nothing now. I was right to trust you though, for a time. Still, wouldn't have trusted them. And him? I saw the same news footage. Europe, some bust outside of Prague. Poor skittering, little terrorist didn't have a chance."

Aria eyed her. Shepard shrugged a shoulder.

"Keeping current."

"Don't patronize me, Shepard. Please. You think I care? You screwing some crewmate?"

"This conversation's done."

Shepard scooted around to get out the other side of the table. Aria grabbed her arm in a vice. Shepard's nostrils flared as she whipped around. Aria let go with a smile.

"Touchy, I see."

"See what?" Shepard snapped.

"Hey, let me give you some advice. You gave me some help once."

"Once? More than once, Aria. I don't need advice."

"Yes, you do."

Aria grabbed Shepard's sleeve again. Shepard wrenched her arm away, but Aria kept hold.

"Aria!"

"Heard you may be walking around with a target on your back. Got a lot of criminal underworld sorts and uniformed ones as enemies, Shepard."

"Not news." Shepard sighed.

"My advice is this. Make yourself strong, protect yourself, don't let them use your weak spots."

"Weak spots?"

"Ah, you know your weak spots." Aria grinned.

"Well, I twisted my right ankle once. Never been the same."

Aria watched her coolly. She drummed her fingers on the back of the bench.

"Ankle or heel, Shepard? There's a story here about a strong soldier who's only weak point was the back of his foot. It brought him down."

"And what's my weakness then, Aria?" Shepard asked.

"You were looking at it earlier, Shepard. Those sorts of attachments don't turn out well. Your Achilles heel. People like us need to be strong the whole way through."

"You're saying this because of Nyreen." Shepard rolled her eyes.

"Nyreen wasn't my weakness. She died. It didn't make me weaker, because I didn't let it. I said goodbye to her long before we met again on Omega. She killed herself so stupidly, but it didn't derail me. I retook Omega."

"And, see what that got you - stranded on Earth with a few rag tag merc bands for company, accepting a plaque at the Summit instead of sitting your throne on Omega."

"Oh, no one screws with me, Shepard. I always rise to the top. If I let myself have weak spots, I wouldn't have lasted even this long. Just remember, an enemy worth fighting will know where to look when it matters."

"Well." Shepard pushed off the table with her palms and stood. "This has been great. Worth the catch up. Run into you next time I'm miserable. We can complain over our plaques when we get them, and … get that picture."

Shepard turned to the door.

"Careful your heel, Shepard. Break your foot, and even a strong soldier's crippled. And if you're crippled on the battlefield, I think you know what happens."

Shepard waved her off and moved through the crowd. Everyone around the bar stood unmoving and transfixed. Shepard sighed shoving through a group of leather clad humans. Shepard followed their eyes to the bar. Overhead the monitors flashed the same news story on multiple channels. A glass shattered behind her. One of the turiens in the corner stood up.

"The primarch's dead?" he said, voice barely raised, but it could be heard through the bar. Only a slow jukebox tune played in the background.

Even Aria looked over the back of the bench. Shepard frowned watching the footage. Found dead in the Vancouver turien embassy. Terra Firma was getting bolder.