A/N: Wow, the response to this story has been so good! Thank you so much to everyone who has followed and favourited, I'm so glad you're enjoying it. This one's a bit of a slow chapter, but expect a good chunk of action next time!

A couple of quick responses to reviews:

Guest: Nope, this story has never been posted before. It has been floating around in my head for ages but none of it has ever been put up online. If you find that other story you had been thinking of, let me know! I'd love to read it.

Carth-haters: I'm not a huge fan of him in the game myself, tbh. But the history between him and Revan makes for a great stepping stone for this story, so I decided to include him. I'll probably be changing him a little from how he is in the game to make him work better though.

A lot of you have ideas about how you think this story should go. Let's just say it may or may not go the way you want it to. ;)

Chapter Six

"Right," Shepard began as she stepped out of the airlock and into a dimly lit, empty iron corridor liberally spattered with patches of rust. She glanced dubiously up at the equally rusty ceiling; something was dripping somewhere above them. She grimaced. She supposed the smugglers and mercenaries who were in power on Omega didn't particularly care how dilapidated the station was. "We have a few potential team members to pick up here, so this isn't just going to be a quick visit. If we're going to be here for a while, I want us to keep a low profile." She set off down the docking corridor, glancing over her shoulder at Miranda as she walked. "We're going to try and find Mordin Solus first. I agree with your assessment, Miranda. The more time he has to work on some sort of countermeasure against those seeker swarms the better."

Miranda nodded. "He may not want to leave his clinic," she warned, striding along on Shepard's left.

Revan was keeping pace on her other side, leather boots making no sound on the grated metal below them. "If he is the kind of person who provides medical facilities for the less fortunate, surely once he learns about the Reapers he will want to join us," she said mildly.

Shepard eyed her cautiously. Her words didn't imply a threat at all, but her tone was just flat enough that Shepard could easily imagine one existed. Or was she reading too much into it? Perhaps Revan was just being cautious around her new squad.

She had been unsure about bringing Revan along on this mission at all, if she was honest, particularly when she had declined the offer to lend her some armour. But the woman seemed to know what she was doing in a fight—at least, it had sure looked that way back on the Citadel – so perhaps she had some alternate means of protection.

In any case, she had to start somewhere. She needed a better test of her abilities than a small C-Sec squad. If Omega's reputation was anything to go by, she would almost certainly find it here.

Bringing her was necessary, but Revan was still too much of an unknown quantity for Shepard to be happy about it. It made her wary. She wasn't just a new crew member—she had skills and abilities Shepard had never seen before and had no experience utilising in battle. She had wanted to sit down and discuss those capabilities in-depth before heading into the field, but Omega was a quick jump from the Widow system's mass relay and all they'd had time for was a hurried briefing on this galaxy's basic customs, non-human species and the like.

She was effectively going into this mission with a blind spot, and she didn't much like it.

Belatedly, Shepard realised she hadn't replied yet. "We can only hope," she murmured.

Revan nodded distractedly, head cocked to one side. "We have company," she announced.

The corridor ahead was empty. Shepard frowned. She opened her mouth, but before she could ask what Revan was talking about, a salarian rounded the corner and hurried up to them. Shepard blinked, glancing over at Revan in surprise. The other woman just smiled briefly and cocked her head in the newcomer's direction.

The salarian babbled something about being a welcoming committee before he was shooed away by a batarian. "Commander Shepard. Welcome to Omega," the batarian greeted her. At best, he sounded only vaguely amiable.

Shepard pulled her attention away from Revan and raised her eyebrows. "You know who I am?"

"Of course," he replied impatiently. "We've been tracking you since you entered the system. Aria is curious to know what would bring a dead Spectre to Omega. You need to head to Afterlife and introduce yourself. Now."

Miranda's irritation and Revan's scepticism were both obvious. She sighed. She could understand both sentiments. The last thing she wanted to do was spend time coddling the local crime boss, but as much as she wanted to ignore this 'Aria' and get to work, she really did want to keep a low profile. Clearly this wasn't an optional invitation. If she refused, it would almost certainly be more trouble than it was worth.

"Fine," she agreed. "You can tell Aria I'll be there shortly."

The batarian nodded curtly before spinning on his heel and leaving.

"Surely we're not going to just answer this summons as though we're Aria's loyal subjects," Miranda protested as soon as he was out of earshot.

"Someone else around the corner," Revan interjected before Shepard could reply. Her brow wrinkled in concentration for a moment. "Two people. One of them is terrified."

Shepard frowned at Revan. "How do you know?" she asked, then waved a hand to cut off any reply, changing her mind. Now wasn't the time for explanations. "Later. Let's check it out." Revan had been right about Aria's greeters. She could be right about this too. Although Shepard didn't particularly want to get involved in every little dispute on Omega, if someone was in trouble right in front of her she couldn't just ignore it.

She rounded the corner quietly, keeping a hand close to her pistol, but relaxed a little on sighting the familiar yellow and white armour from Zaeed Massani's dossier. He stood over a batarian, who was shrinking back with an arm covering his head for protection as Zaeed aimed a kick at his stomach.

Her nose wrinkled in distaste. "Zaeed Massani," she called, threading her voice with a couple extra layers of steel.

The mercenary looked up, one eye trained on his prisoner. The eye was milky white and traced with deep scarring, and more than a little disconcerting. With an effort Shepard kept her expression neutral. "'Bout time you got here, Shepard," he greeted her. He had a voice like old jackboots on gravel.

"I was told we were getting one man, not two," she replied shortly, eyeing the batarian.

Zaeed chuckled. "Just finishing up a job. Omega is his last stop."

The batarian rose up on his knees, reaching a hand out to her. "No, please, you have to help me!" he begged.

"Being a little dramatic, aren't we?" Revan murmured. "He's not that hurt."

Shepard ignored her. "His final stop?" she asked pointedly.

Zaeed sighed and rolled his shoulders, pistol held loosely in one hand. "For all the trouble the bastard has caused me, I'm starting to wish it was. But no, this one's netting me a lot of credits." He flashed a smile, all predatory teeth. "My bring-'em-in-alive rates are double my usual."

"Fine. How long will this job take?" Shepard folded her arms over her chest.

"Maybe half a standard day? Give or take a happy hour."

Shepard chose to ignore that. "Report to the Normandy when you're done, then—" she cut herself off as the batarian lunged to his feet and made a run for it back towards Omega.

Zaeed was quick. The pistol he had been dangling so casually from his fingers was up, aimed and shooting in less than a second. The batarian toppled, clutching at his bleeding calf. Shepard raised her eyebrows, impressed. A neat, clean disabling shot to the lower leg while the target was running was very, very difficult to pull off – and Zaeed had shot from the hip. That wasn't just years and years of training. That was instinct.

He set the safety on his pistol and twirled it around his thumb before holstering it and smirking in her direction. Oh, he knew how good he was, too. "See you on the ship, Shepard."

"He seems interesting," Revan commented as Zaeed caught up to his prisoner and grabbed him by the collar, dragging him further into the station. She was clearly impressed too.

"He doesn't seem like someone who takes easily to following orders," Miranda countered.

Which could be an advantage on a Cerberus ship, Shepard thought. At least, a future advantage. Should the need ever arise. "We'll need to keep an eye on him," she agreed out loud. "But I have a feeling he's as good as the Illusive Man says he is." She set off down the docking corridor again, allowing Zaeed to get a little further ahead before picking up the pace.

"He is. He wasn't surprised that he managed to pull off a shot like that," Revan told her.

Shepard glanced at her sharply. "How are you doing that?" she demanded. "Reading people's minds? How could you tell that batarian was afraid, even before you saw him?" She stopped before a door marked 'station' in dull flickering neon. "And for that matter, how could you tell Aria's welcoming committee was arriving?"

Revan hesitated before replying. Shepard got the impression she was deciding what, exactly, to tell her… if anything. But in the end, she sighed. "I was expecting you to ask questions sooner or later. You don't have Jedi in this galaxy, do you?"

Shepard shook her head, palming the door open and stepping through onto a wide, open mezzanine. "No… well, I personally haven't heard that term before." The smell of a dozen species all packed in together in too-close quarters assaulted her: stale body odour mixed with too much perfume, sweat and aircar oil, and a myriad other things she couldn't name. She wrinkled her nose, looking around for a sign, or something that would give her an idea where she could find Afterlife.

Revan bit her lip thoughtfully, then shrugged. "There's a lot to it. More than we really have time to go through right now."

"Can you at least give us the short version?" Miranda asked testily.

Revan's expression was suddenly amused. "Space magic."

Shepard felt her lip twitch into a ghost of a grin before she realised what she was doing. She frowned at Revan, a little taken aback. Was that a... joke?

Judging by the scathing retort she could already see forming on Miranda's lips, it had been. And the Cerberus operative was not impressed. "Fine," she spoke up quickly, before Miranda could. "You can tell us all about it when we're back on the ship." Up ahead, she spotted a huge, bright red neon sign proclaiming 'Afterlife' and began to make her way toward it, threading her way through the crowd. "Do you? Read minds? Because that sounds useful as hell."

"No, thank the Force," Revan told her, sounding genuinely relieved. "I can only sense feelings and intentions, and separate one mind from others."

"So if we run into trouble you could give me accurate headcounts of our opposition, make sure we don't walk into any hidden ambushes, things like that…" Shepard trailed off, the tactical side of her brain sparking with interest.

"You're a very talented individual, Revan," Miranda commented pointedly before the other woman could respond. "I assume you confine these talents to our opponents?"

Miranda's tone could have been far less antagonistic – although Shepard suspected she actually wasn't trying to be – but she had a point. Shepard inwardly berated herself for not immediately considering the possibility that if Revan could sense the feelings and intentions of their opponents, she could probably sense those of her allies as well.

Revan had the good grace to look a little uncomfortable. "It's not something I can turn off," she admitted. "The Force is like a sixth sense, in some ways. It adds to the information I gain from looking at someone. I see their hair colour, smell their perfume, I can touch their clothing… and I also get a general sense of their mood." She met Shepard's gaze directly, disconcerting pale green eyes suddenly intense. "I don't intentionally pry into the minds of my team. Not beyond that initial impression."

Shepard wondered just how much of her mood Revan had sensed on the day they had met. She hadn't been in a good place. She still wasn't in a good place. The idea that her inner turmoil hadn't been as private as she thought was unsettling. "The Force?" she repeated quickly, unwilling to dwell on those thoughts.

Revan grimaced slightly. "We should probably leave that one for the ship."

Miranda's lip twisted dubiously. "Any other special talents we should know about?"

Revan tossed a wry glance at them as they climbed the steps heading up to Afterlife. "A few, yes. I'll have to give you a demonstration or two."

Shepard had to admit, that idea made her nervous.

They reached the large utilitarian doors to Afterlife and were passed through by the bouncer as soon as she told him Aria was expecting them. The corridor beyond was filled with people milling about, some nodding heads or swaying hips to the muffled beat coming from another set of doors up ahead. Shepard slipped through, wondering for a moment if she should have had them all wear civilian clothes instead of armour. They stood out in the crowd and were drawing more than a few stares.

Well, it was too late now. She led Revan and Miranda through the second set of doors and into the club proper. It was louder, filled with thumping bass and cheap cigarette smoke, and just as packed as the corridor outside. Glancing at the local time display on her omnitool, Shepard realised it was approaching the later hours of the evening. The perfect time for clubs such as Afterlife to hit their stride.

"I think that's her up there, Commander," Miranda said loudly, raising her voice to be heard over the pulsing music and pointing up at a balcony overlooking the club below.

One of Aria's bodyguards let them through, and led them up to her private space. The woman herself was lounging on a very expensive-looking bright red couch, appearing completely unconcerned by how well-armed her visitors were. She was beautiful in a regal, elegant, but uncompromisingly hard way. Shepard judged that she was around middle age for an asari. "That's close enough," she warned as they approached.

Shepard heard the simultaneous snicks of five separate pistols unfolding, and abruptly found two of them pointing directly at her.

Shit. Adrenaline flooded her system. Had she miscalculated? Was this some sort of trap?

Carefully she kept her hands visible and opened her mouth to remind Aria that she was the one who had asked to see them, but changed her mind at the last minute. An image of the weapons of a whole troop of C-Sec officers flying through the air flickered before her eyes. Her lip quirked in amusement, but she kept her face carefully blank. "Revan?"

She had promised demonstrations, after all. Would she catch on…?

Revan smiled to herself. If she didn't know better, she would have thought Shepard was trying to send her a telepathic message or something. She would have to explain it didn't work like that… later. It didn't matter, though, she got the idea.

Keeping her hands by her sides, open and visible, she drew on the Force and gestured with her fingers. Before any of the bodyguards could react, their strange folding blasters flew out of their hands and landed in a neat pile between Shepard and Aria.

The asari's expression didn't change, but Revan was certain she saw a couple of extra blinks. Aria stared at Shepard for a few extra moments, ignoring her bodyguards' confusion, then quite obviously shifted her gaze to Revan. The woman was observant. "Invisible biotics. Nice trick, Shepard."

Biotics, huh? Was that this galaxy's version of the Force? Revan made a mental note to ask about it later. She met Aria's gaze, unflinching, but stayed silent. This was Shepard's show.

Aria waved at her guards, and they stood down reluctantly, exchanging covert glances with one another before retreating into silent, watchful positions. One, however – a batarian, if she remembered Shepard's hurried induction into some of this galaxy's general knowledge correctly – stepped forward and raised his arm toward Shepard.

Revan eyed him cautiously, but his hand was empty. A warm orange holographic net appeared over the batarian's wrist, and scanned along the length of Shepard's body. An omnitool scanner – that was something she did remember from Shepard's briefing. They sounded incredibly useful. "Making sure I am who I say I am?" Shepard asked.

"Can't be too careful," Aria purred. "It could be anyone wearing that body."

Revan blinked. What did that mean?

Memory sparked, and she recalled the batarian who had met them at the docks calling Shepard a "dead spectre". She frowned. Shepard had referred to herself as a "spectre" on the Citadel, but calling her a dead one seemed… redundant. Revan was confused. This was something Shepard hadn't covered. To be fair, though, their discussion hadn't been particularly in-depth. Shepard didn't trust her, which had likely kept any really interesting topics out of bounds.

The commander was outwardly calm as she waited for Aria's verdict, but Revan could feel a veritable soup of emotions boiling beneath the surface. They seemed to have been triggered by that comment. Fear, grief, guilt, revulsion… it was a little intense. She shook her head to try and clear it, forcing her attention elsewhere. She hadn't been lying when she told Shepard she didn't try to pry into the minds of her team.

After a while Shepard spoke up, ignoring Aria's pointed jibe. "I was told you are the person to speak to if I have questions."

Aria waved her bodyguard away and shut the holo down, expression revealing nothing about what she had just seen. "That depends on the questions."

"You run Omega, don't you?"

Aria laughed, a low, amused chuckle that seemed to echo around the small chamber and float out into the energy of the club below. Languidly, almost regally, she stood and turned, spreading her arms wide. "I am Omega."

Revan watched her carefully, noting the surety of movement, the lean strength in her form, and the complete, utter confidence in her words. Those words by themselves were almost worthy of ridicule… and yet, Revan didn't feel like laughing. After all, it isn't hyperbole to claim you are the most powerful person in the room if you are, in fact, the most powerful person in the room.

Shepard had clearly picked up on the same thing. In fact, Shepard seemed to be picking up on a lot of the same things Revan was, without the same access to the Force. It was rare to find a non-Force sensitive who was so perceptive.

When Aria waved her to a seat, the commander sat down, once more completely calm. It didn't take her long to find out the locations of the two potential crew members they were here to pick up, along with some extra information about what to expect at those locations. She left Aria with a respectful nod, the asari's calculating gaze on her back.

"Change of plans," Shepard told them as they descended from Aria's 'throne room'. "We need to pick up Archangel first, and quickly. He's pinned down in a sniper's perch with every mercenary company on Omega after him."

"Every mercenary company? What did he do to piss them all off enough to get them to cooperate with each other? Did Aria have any information on who exactly he is?" Miranda asked.

"Your boss didn't tell you any of that?" Shepard raised her eyebrows at Miranda as she led them to one of Afterlife's private rooms.

"If the Illusive Man had further information he would have put it in the dossier you were given," Miranda told her reproachfully.

Shepard snorted. "I'm under no illusion he tells me everything."

"Probably not," Miranda admitted smoothly. "But if the data is important to the mission, he will make sure you get it. He wants this to succeed as much as you do, Shepard."

Revan stayed quiet, watching them both. There was a lot of animosity there. Every time Shepard spoke to Miranda, Revan could feel the effort it was taking her to be professional, and the guilt she felt every time she agreed with Miranda or smiled at something she said. Shepard had told her that Cerberus was funding her mission and that Miranda was the liaison between Shepard and Cerberus' leader, the Illusive Man. However, she had made it very clear that she herself was not working for them. Apparently, despite their civil façade, they were a well-known and well-funded humanist terrorist group.

Revan hadn't been sure what to think about that. If Shepard wasn't working for Cerberus, why was she the commander of a Cerberus vessel filled with Cerberus crew? Why was she working with Cerberus intelligence? She hadn't expanded on any of that.

She hung back while Shepard spoke to a mercenary recruiter, content to look menacing in the background while the commander did all the talking. She signed them up to participate in an attack on Archangel, under the guise that they were freelance mercenaries looking for work. It was obvious to Revan that they were signing up to be cannon fodder; she was surprised the merc recruiter didn't try to hide it. She supposed mercs in this galaxy were just as foolhardy as gangs and smugglers from hers.

As she followed Shepard to the exit and the transports waiting to take them to the staging area, she stared speculatively at the back of her head. They were walking into a combat zone, and Shepard had claimed she had the right to be in command. It was time to find out if that was true.