Author's Note: Friday! Just FYI, it's another three day weekend for me, so most likely no more chapters until Tuesday. Everyone take care and be safe this weekend, especially if you have snow!

It was time for the Story.

It was a lie, of course…yet the only answer Eír could ever give in response to the question. Some part of her knew the real truth. That she was grown not in a womb, but in a tank, the product of Osco's genetic brilliance and expertise. She knew that in truth she was only two years old, that she had known no other family than Gellian and Thug.

But the tank had not been without its conditionings and imprints. While the truth was known to her, it was not something she could ever consciously articulate. The tank had given her the only answer she could ever utter. It was not that she lied…part of her remembered events this way as well, and she was physically unable to tell any other tale than the one she was about to impart. There was no choice, no conscious deception to it at all.

"I do not know the name of my sire," she said. "My true mother was Matriarch Benezia, but it was not she who raised me."

Shrive's brows knit. "Benezia…T'Soni?"

She knew the name, vaguely. Krogan were not, in general, huge on the scandals and political machinations of other species. To their mind it was a cowardly way to fight…with words and clandestine plots. Shrive was asari but her father, grandfather, and clan were all krogan. While she had been off Tuchanka briefly before, she had never so much as set foot on the Citadel, or Thessia.

The events surrounding Matriarch Benezia's death and the attack on the Citadel were such huge news that even she had heard some of what had gone on but many specifics were so confused, twisted by rumor and hearsay and filtered through the Council's sieve of cover-up that even had she followed events closely, she would still not know entirely what had happened.

"Yes," Eír replied. "She made the mistake of bonding with another asari."

"You're a pureblood?" Shrive blinked.

"Yes, I'm a pureblood," Eír shot back with bitter disdain. "It was scandal enough when my older sister was born, mother could not stand any more heat coming down on her house, on her children. Shortly after I was born she gave me to her sister, Matriarch Lisita, to raise. Not long after that she separated from her bond-mate. She raised my older sister, and Lisita raised me. But she was old…older by far than even Benezia. Her mind was not…age slowly took it away while I was still small and so my care was remanded to a parade of faceless servants. The only memories I have of Lisita are of her withered and sick and delusional in her bed. Yet she clung to life, for decades in this state. She did not finally pass away until seven years ago.

"You were ninety when your adoptive mother passed away, and yet you call Osco-"

"I know what I call Osco," Eír retorted. "I call Thug brother though we share no bond of blood or parentage! I had no mother. Mine had given me up, and the woman she gave me to was an ill, withered stranger. The longest any nurse or servant stayed in charge of my care was five years. I had no mother! Out of obligation Benezia allowed me to live in the T'Soni complex when Lisita passed but she was a ghost, always gone on tours and political trips. Her love and any maternity had already been spent on my sister Liara, she had no more left to offer me. Osco lived at the complex as well. She was Benezia's-…they were friends. I was distraught, depressed, unwanted…Gellian saved my life. She was the first person to treat me as a daughter, as true family. So yes, I call her Mother, and I will accept no insult to her!"

"It is no wonder you carry such anger," Shrive said after a moment of silence. Eír simply glared at her, until Shrive reached forward and picked up the book, setting it aside. "I was mistaken," she said. "Study in the field is what is needed today, and not in the pages of books. Come."

Shrive rose and headed for the doorway, the sunlight growing brighter and more golden as she parted the curtain of summersong, then paused, looking back at where Eír still sat.

Standing there, she was little more than a dark silhouette, surrounded by the draping flowers and haloed in the beaming waterfall of sunlight. It was as if the Goddess herself stood there, grace and shape but featureless, shadowed in mystery…immortality incarnate in mortal form.

"Are you coming?" Shrive asked, and Eír blinked, realizing she was staring. She felt her cheeks heat as her jaw tightened, and she stood up, striding up to the arch and then pushing past the older girl abruptly as she strode into the sunlight.

By the time Shepard reached the plaza again, heading back toward the Normandy's dock, the place had become quite busy with the morning crowd. As she wove through the clustered bodies, hands tucked in her pockets and mind a million miles away, she slowly became aware of a distant commotion. Refocusing on reality she looked up.

A batarian was running in her general direction, still quite a distance away. He seemed quite frantic, jostling and even knocking over passersby as he bolted, packages and angry shouts scattering in his wake.

Behind him by several yards a human man ran in pursuit, the unmistakable and familiar face of a man she had never before met.

The batarian collided with a rather stocky looking woman, and for a moment it looked like he'd end up going down with her. His hands slapped the ground but his feet kept frantically churning, managing to find traction and speed him forward again. The woman he'd knocked down cursed after him in language that almost made Shepard blush.

By the time the batarian drew near her was at full speed again. His four eyes wide, nostrils flaring, face damp with sweat, he didn't so much as glance at the commander as he charged near. Just as he passed her she swung out her arm, clothes-lining him beautifully.

His lower body kept moving forward while his upper was jerked back by the throat. He skipped a single step, then crashed down to the ground, croaking for air as he grasped for his throat, dazed.

Hooking her boot under his side, Shepard levered him enough to roll him over onto his stomach, then grabbed his wrist. Kneeling on the small of his back she hauled his arm around sharply enough to make him howl in pain.

A breath later his pursuer ran up, pointing the pistol in his hand at the fallen man's head. "Goddamn batarians," he grumped. "They always goddamn run."

Unsnapping a pair of bind cuffs from his belt he passed them to Shepard, who fastened them on.

"Please," the batarian wheezed. "Please, I didn't do it-"

"No one said you could talk," the man growled, kicking the man sharply in the shoulder. Shepard got to her feet, pulling the dazed man up with her.

The fellow with the gun was clearly a bounty hunter…a human man in his late fifties. His grizzled hair was buzzed short in a functional, militia cut. The right side of his face bore a rather dramatic scar that looked like something had tried to take a bite out of the side of his head. It made his features asymmetrical, slightly awkward with a mediocre plastic surgery job that was probably back-alley. It lent his look an even more menacing aspect than he probably naturally would have had.

Shepard gave the batarian a light shove. "I believe this is yours, Mr. Massani."

"Glad for the help," the bounty hunter huffed approvingly. "That was a nice take-down Shepard."

"I see we each recognized the other."

"Yeah well, Cerberus sent me your picture. I never forget a face and mine is…rather unforgettable," he answered.

The batarian unwisely snorted a weak huff of laughter and Massani glowered at him. "What's the matter?" he asked, cuffing the man on the cheek with the back of his hand. "Don't you think I'm pretty?"

"I take it Miranda finally got hold of your contact info. She tell you what we're in for?"

"Yeah, kind of a mess the way I hear it. But for the creds they're paying I could almost buy my own goddamn moon when we're done. There is a bit of a snag, however."

"Snag?"

"Tell you what. Let me get this piece of shit turned in proper-like, then I'll meet you in Afterlife for a beer. We can talk specifics."

"Sounds golden," Shepard answered. Massani gripped the batarian's arm and turned, half-dragging him across the plaza. After a few steps he deliberately tripped the man, making him stumble before hauling him back to his feet.

"Watch where you're walking, jackass," he smirked. "You almost ruined my pedicure."

Though the Afterlife, like the rest of the station, never really went to sleep, it was almost deserted when she entered this time. The music was still loud but not nearly as deafening or driving as it was during peak hours, and she could actually walk without having to squeeze her way through a wall of people.

As she parked it at a table, a girl came up, dressed in an outfit that would probably have been illegal in most other places in the galaxy. "Get you anything, sweetie?" she asked.

Shepard hadn't yet eaten that morning, having had only smokes and coffee. She was more than famished. "What's on the grill?"

"Got scropa, some neber steak or roasted squery. Everything else will either kill you or make you wish you'd never been born."

"The steak. Rare. I want the fucker to bleed," Shepard instructed, drawing out a cigar and lighting it. Usually she never had more than two in a given day and here it was, barely breakfast time and she was on her third.

"Drink?"

"Beer," she said reluctantly. It was far too early for anything harder, even for her.

Massani arrived along with the steak. He looked at the plate approvingly as he sat down. "I like a woman who can eat real food," he said, then looked at the waitress. "Bring me one exactly like that, love."

As she wandered off, Zaeed gestured at Shepard's cigar. "And smoke a real cigar. I already know you can clothes-line a man…you may just be my perfect woman, Shepard."

Shepard half-smirked, knowing better as she cut into the steak.

"Nice sentiment, but I get the feeling your perfect woman is made of metal and goes 'bang bang'," she told him.

"You're probably right," he agreed. "So, the Collectors. Money's stellar but I have to wonder. Why does Cerberus want me to help hunt down the Collectors?"

"Cerberus doesn't, I do," Shepard told him. "They're funding my initiative, providing resources, but that's all. I picked you, and from what I read, you're worth every damn cred. Or else you fuckin' better be."

"Bloody right I am," he snorted. "I've got the skills, the contacts, everything you need. I'll do it for the creds, no question…I'll get your job done. But banter aside I only respect someone that's earned it, not just because of some rank. So don't expect me to salute you and call you ma'am."

"I'd never dream of it," Shepard replied, then gestured with her fork. "Cerberus is paying your fee but I'm going to give you a bit extra out of my own pocket. A little…side deal."

"For?"

"Those contacts of yours. I need you to put your feelers out, find someone for me. I don't need them hunted, just an address, a planet…a fucking system will do. Hell, I'd take a goddamn email address."

"Your Cerberus 'resources' can't find this person?"

"Apparently not," she grumped. "They're sending me what they do have and I'll forward anything relevant to you but I have a feeling it's going to be thin shit at best."

"What's the name?"

"Dr. Liara T'Soni. She's an asari scientist."

"Catch?"

She looked up at him silently as his food arrived. He picked up his beer, taking a swig before pointing the neck of it at her. "There's always a catch, Shepard."

"She may be working for the Shadow Broker," she said.

"Hmm. Shadow Broker hides some of his agents well, if it's required," he agreed. "Could make things a great deal harder…and more expensive."

"I'll pay what it takes," Shepard affirmed. "I just need a location."

"What'd this T'Soni do to you?" he wondered. "Has to be something personal if you just want a location. That says you want to take care of the problem yourself, one on one. Otherwise you'd just want me to bring her in or take her down."

Her eyes turned to flint and he nodded sagely, leaning back a bit. "Oh, I see. Not that it's my place to give advice on such affairs but…if she doesn't want anything to do with you any more-"

"It's…not that. Not…not really. At least, I'm not sure if it's that. It's…it's fucking complicated, all right? You want the creds or not?"

"Have it your way," he shrugged. "None of my business. I'll get your location, Shepard. If she's alive, I'll find out where she is."

Shepard nodded. "Not a word about this to anyone," she warned. "Not a single soul on the Normandy finds out, you get me?"

"I know how to keep my mouth shut. I have been doing this a long time."

She grunted, turning back to her steak. After a few moments of silence she looked back up at him. "You mentioned a snag, earlier. Mind sharing?"

"Just after I got your job offer I had another one come in. Good pay. Not nearly as good as yours but decent. Do you know who Vido Santiago is?"

When she shook her head he explained. "He's the head of the Blue Suns. The entire organization. As you can imagine, he's got a lot of enemies. Seems he's taken over a refinery on Zorya. Moved in nice and snug. He's using the employees for slave labor. My contact wants that refinery freed, and a few bullets planted in Santiago's head."

Shepard's eyes went hard. "Slave labor?"

"Yeah. That's Vido for you. An absolute fucking prince, overflowing with harmony and love for his fellow man. I'd hate to drop that job for this one. I was hoping you'd be open to letting me finish that mess first, get it out of the way and then join back up with you further down the road. Take care of both items of business, as it were."

"I'll do you one better, Massani," she said. "I'll talk you this refinery myself, hold him down for you."

"Don't like gangsters, I take it?"

"Don't like slavers," Shepard snarled.

"Ah, yes. I should have remembered. Torfan. Well then, Shepard…it sounds like we have ourselves a deal."

"I think we're about done on Omega. We'll hit the black as soon as you're on board."

It seemed Miranda's prediction for a departure tomorrow was incorrect. Shepard wanted to be on her way as soon as possible. There was a Blue Sun ass out there that needed to meet her boot in the worst way.

"These files are everything we have on T'Soni?" Miranda asked, looking from her data pad up to the holographic image of the Illusive Man. Casually ashing his cigarette, he nodded.

"As far as Shepard is concerned, they are," he told her. As she glanced down at them again he narrowed his eyes ever so slightly.

"What is it, Miranda?" he asked.

"I just…I'm not sure that this is the right tactic any more. Keeping Shepard and T'Soni apart, I mean."

"Miranda, we discussed this at length. We both decided that this was the best course. Shepard cannot afford to be distracted."

"That's just it," Miranda replied. "We assumed T'Soni was just a lark. Shepard's psych profile indicates quite clearly that she avoids intimate relationships…a problem stemming from her trust issues, her need to maintain control. And T'Soni herself was young and naïve…it seemed Shepard was just indulging a pretty girl's crush. I was sure that Shepard would forget about her, write it off as just one of those things and move on. But that's not what's happening."

"What is it that is happening?"

"The exact opposite of what we'd hoped. Shepard is not going to stop looking for her, not until she sees for herself that T'Soni is all right, hears it from her own mouth that she's moved on. That is going to prove a more serious distraction to the mission than the one we're trying to avoid. She wasn't just an indulgence, just a lark for her. Shepard has genuine feelings for T'Soni and she's not used to that. If she doesn't get a handle on it, some real closure, it's going to be a nightmare. Shepard won't quit, remember? That's why we needed her."

If her words were moving him at all, it was impossible to tell. He did a better ice-mask than she did, and she was expert at it.

"What is it you would suggest?" he asked.

"Get T'Soni," she replied. "Bring her to the Normandy, let her be part of the mission."

"This isn't a romance cruise, Miranda," he said with irritation. "It's all very touching but the truth of the matter is, we bring T'Soni on board to play house and Shepard won't see anything other than the stars in her eyes. The Reapers will win. Everything we have worked for will collapse."

"I don't think you're giving her enough credit. She stopped Sovereign with T'Soni on board-"

"And nearly got herself carelessly killed on more than one occasion," he retorted. "And that was against only one Reaper and a rogue Citadel agent…nothing like she faces now. We cannot afford to take the chance, Miranda."

"So then what do you suggest?" she asked. "She's taking stupid risks already. Out drinking to all hours, telling a sick, delirious batarian he could shoot her? She went up and put her forehead against the barrel of his gun herself. Had he even been slightly startled by so much as a pin dropping her multi-billion dollar brain would right now be staining some rusty slum wall."

He let out a thin stream of smoke.

"Miranda, you know that I trust your judgment. Do you honestly believe that Shepard is becoming self-destructive to the point we might lose her?"

"Yes," she said bluntly. "Honestly, the tendency has always been there, thanks to her past history, but she resisted it by building armor, hiding any vulnerability, shielding herself…especially after what happened to Paul Salgado. Even with Nancy she managed to maintain a core of distance, never letting the woman completely in. But T'Soni is different. Perhaps it was because of the beacon, the knowledge melds, I don't know…but for some reason Shepard let T'soni in, closer than anyone else has ever been to her. Combine that with the fact that the Collectors have shaken the only other emotional constant that gives her sanity support and we have a very dangerous situation on our hands. Shepard could do worse than merely kill herself, directly or indirectly. She could suffer a complete mental break-down. A sane Shepard is frightening enough at times. Can you imagine what she would do were she actually psychotic?"

"Well then, I see no other viable alternative. I shall have to take your advice."

She blinked. "You're going to contact T'Soni? Let her join the mission?"

"No," he replied. "Your other suggestion. Shepard needs closure. She needs to 'hear it from her own mouth,' as you said. Any other source than Liara T'Soni herself, and Shepard will not listen, not believe. So there is no other alternative."

He stubbed his cigarette out. "Liara will just have to tell Shepard that it's over. Shepard will have her closure. If she cares as much about T'Soni as you seem to think, she'll step back out of her life. That armor that's served her so well in the past will be renewed, and nothing will stop this mission from going forward successfully."

"Will T'Soni do that?" Miranda asked, clearly not convinced that the woman would.

"As far as Shepard is concerned…yes. She will."

Miranda frowned a little. "That's…risky," she said.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of it."

"I think it would be better if we just let the woman join-"

"This discussion is over, Miranda. Do your job and make sure Shepard keeps her head in the game. I know you won't fail me."

His cybernetic blue eyes were stern ice and seemed somehow to linger on in warning, even after the holograph had faded.

"Big place, just his style," Zaeed grumped as he looked at the sailing metal walls, the great smoking chimneys of the refinery.

"He's found himself the perfect fortress," Shepard said. "Unfriendly terrain, thick metal walls, limited points of access…everything a king needs to be safe and secure."

The three of them were crouched in heavy underbrush, surveying the refinery that lay sprawled in the distance, down a slight incline. Zorya…at least, this part of Zorya, had jungles almost thick enough to remind her of Ilos. The refinery was smack dab in the middle of the biggest one, flanked by granite foothills on two sides.

"They don't have our location but they know we are here," Miranda said, one hand to her ear. She had been monitoring the Suns radio band, sifting through various chatter for any relevant information or alert to their presence. "There's just been an order to increase the security force at the west gate, and to keep an eye out for armed intruders."

She peered over Shepard's shoulder, then pointed at the small gate nearest them. "There."

"Must have had a spy point in the trees," Shepard murmured. "A wireless or a bubble mech."

"I say we go up and knock on the door," Zaeed suggested.

"They'll see us coming fifty yards away," Shepard disagreed. "They'll have plenty of time to start picking off civvies."

"Vido will consider them an investment," Zaeed shook his head. "He won't start liquidating his investments, not when he's got an entire army against just three intruders. Chances are, he'll seal them up, close them off so no one can get it in their mind to bolt while he and his Suns take care of the problem."

Shepard's brown eyes settled on him sternly. "You seem to know an awful lot about Santiago, Zaeed. Something you care to share?"

"Nothing important," he shrugged, still peering down at the gate. "He used to be my partner, back when we founded the Blue Suns."

Both Shepard and Miranda stared at him a moment before Shepard scowled, hissing, "You helped found the Blue Suns? And you don't think that's important?"

"It doesn't matter," he huffed. "It was a long time ago. And it kind of ended when he stabbed me in the goddamn back…or rather, shot me in the head. You and I have something in common, Shepard. We're both harder to kill than other people would like."

Shepard felt her anger rising. "This isn't a job, is it? Someone didn't hire you for this. If you're here for some twisted notion of vengeance-"

"What difference does it make?" he wanted to know. "Motivations don't change facts. Everything I told you about the refinery, about the slaves…that's all true. Are you going to walk away now just because someone else isn't paying me for this? Leave them in there to rot? Leave Vido sitting in his fortress like a little king, pissing on his subjects?"

Shepard could feel her teeth creak under the amount of force with which she clenched her jaw. Like smoldering embers, her eyes shifted from him to Miranda as the operative spoke.

"According to scans, there's a smaller secondary door just around the corner from the gate, which will be impossible to get open anyway without leaving ourselves wide open to gunfire. We'd be under cover all the way to it and we should come into the building from an unexpected direction. It won't be much but it's better than hitting that gate directly."

Shepard looked toward the refinery again. Much as it pissed the ever-living fuck out of her, Zaeed was right. The situation hadn't changed. If there were civvies in there, being held for slave labor. Shepard couldn't leave them in that situation.

"We'll hit the door," she said, then gripped Zaeed's arm, meeting his mismatched eyes with an intense severity. "Don't you ever lie to me again."

She didn't threaten him with what she would do if he did. She didn't try and scare him with descriptive about how she'd cut every one of his goddamn fingers off before kicking his ass right out of an airlock if he even so much as thought a lie in her direction. It wasn't so much a threat anyway as a simple statement…wrath would descend in unholy waves of hellfire if he lied to her again. It was as inevitable and natural a truth as if she had said that night would fall after the sun had set, and simply didn't need saying.

Wordlessly the trio moved down the hill, keeping to cover as they swung around to the flanking door. There was a small camera but being as it was a refinery and not an actual military compound, it had been installed to take in the approach, leaving a huge blind-spot at the door itself. They managed to stay out of its scope, Miranda working on disabling it with her omni-tool while Shepard set to work hacking the door.

Slipping inside, she kept to the shadows of the narrow hallway, glancing back as Miranda and Zaeed followed quietly behind her. If Miranda's schematics and the radio transmissions were accurate, there were going to be a whole lot of merc fuckers in the next room, poised to pounce the moment anyone approached that gate.

The door at the end was old fashioned, hinged. The refinery had cut more than one corner, it seemed. Unlatching it slowly she crouched, easing it open just far enough to slip the barrel of her sniper through. Putting her eye to the scope she took in the scene in the room beyond.

No hostages or civvies at least. That was a point in their favor. Huge pipes ringed the walls, part of the gas pressure system that powered the gates and probably the entire complex. Gas pressure power was dangerous but a lot cheaper than eezo, solar, or hydrodynamic energy. Yet another corner cut with a business eye more on profits than safety.

A cluster of blue armored men and women had gathered in the room, most with guns trained on the gates but a couple that seemed either to be receiving or transmitting information. A tall catwalk overlooked the scene, another pair of Suns looking out over the railing.

Moving her scope she did a silent count. Not so bad as she had feared, but hardly the most ideal. Without lowering her rifle she balanced it between her shoulder and one hand as she lifted the other toward her companions.

She extended her full hand twice, all five fingers extended, then pointed downward.

Ten men, ground floor.

Then she held out two fingers and pointed up and to the right.

Two men, upper level, that way.

Pondering a moment, she drew back and straightened, easing the door shut again.

"What are you doing?" Zaeed demanded in a loud whisper. "We can take them."

"Not until we know where the civvies are," Shepard replied. "We go in there guns blazing and…the fuck…?"

Mid-sentence, Zaeed shoved past her and slammed his foot into the door, banging it open and startling the mercs inside. His pistol flashed as he rushed out into the room, taking down two of the Suns before they realized what was happening.

Swearing, Shepard barked, "Miranda!" before she also ran into the room, laying down a hail of cover fire before Zaeed got his ass shot.

Fucker deserves it! What the fuck is he thinking?

The room echoed with a cacophony of gunfire as the mercs recovered from their startlement. A wave of blue biotics tossed several back from their feet as Miranda joined Shepard's rush for cover, which took the form of the very console that controlled the gate. As they ducked behind it, Massani made it to the far end of the room, behind a thick cluster of the main gas pipes.

Sparks flew as the gunfire clustered on Miranda and Shepard's cover, even the mercs not stupid enough to shoot at Zaeed for fear of rupturing the pipes.

Then, abruptly, the barrage ended, leaving a fading echo behind. Shepard slowly eased her sniper back and drew one of her machine pistols instead as a voice filled the air.

"You're pinned down, and I have half a dozen more men heading to this position right now. So, why don't we make this simple and easy."

"Vido, you son of a bitch," Zaeed barked back. "The only simple and easy thing that's going to happen here today is me putting a bullet in your goddamn brain."

Shepard groaned faintly, closing her eyes. "I'm going to kill that fucker," she whispered to Miranda. "I swear to fuckin' God, I'll kill him myself if Santiago doesn't take him out."

"Zaeed? Is that you? Oh…this is a surprise! What did I do to earn the pleasure of getting to kill you…again?"

"You're the one that's going to die!"

"How do you figure? I have forty men here ready to kill or die at my command, Zaeed. You have…what? Your geriatric old self and…two women was it? I'm pretty sure I saw just two little girls."

"Little girls?" Miranda whispered indignantly. "Bad enough he's a slaver, now he has to be misogynistic?"

There was the echoing snap of a shot, coinciding with a bang of metal and a hiss. Shepard half looked around the console to see the large gas tank just beneath the catwalk now bore a hole. The gas was invisible but rippled the air faintly as it vented. The man standing atop the catwalk with the two mercs she'd spotted earlier, laughed.

"You missed! What, are you blind too-"

Zaeed grit his teeth ferally and fired again, this time sparking his shot off the edge of the walk. Shepard barely had time to duck down as the leaking gas igniting.

The whole of existence seemed to push outward in a flare of incredible heat as the tank and surrounding air exploded into flames.