The First and the Last

One: Afterlife

Liara's eyes fluttered open as the Shadow of the Hegemon was jostled by the final Mass Relay jump. For a brief instant, she felt as if she was trapped in a cyclone before the craft steadied itself again. Glancing forlornly at the ceiling of her small cell, she righted herself and sat up against the rusted wall. The entire journey had been like this, with the creaking, dilapidated freighter tossing about like a ragdoll. A full day of being unable to sleep amidst the motion had inclined her to wander the ship. She found it to be even more cramped than the SSV Normandy at full stock, the labyrinthine maze of corridors and bulkheads covered in pipes, wiring, and electronics of every conceivable make and age. She had given up trying to figure out how old the ship was, and her few attempts at inquiring about it had been met with silence or glances away. From then on, she had taken her meals alone, retrieving food and withdrawing to her small metal cube.

The freighter had stopped first at Bekenstein, taking on a myriad of high-end manufactured products bound for the Terminus Systems. Several strange crates had been unloaded in exchange – Liara suspected they contained contraband parts or drugs, but it was impossible to be certain and she thought prying would be unwise. Another stop had been made at a small Batarian space station in the outer reaches of the Terminus Systems, where the parts had been unloaded and another unknown cargo taken on. Similar swaps had occurred on Anhur, and Liara had come to realize that she was traveling on the supply chain of galactic smuggling.

Nor was she the only one. The cargo taken on at the Batarian station had included a number of collared, chained, and drugged slaves bound for the markets of Khar'shan, their barely audible pleas for mercy or freedom or water haunting Liara's dreams as she clung to the edges of sleep. Still others had been as she was – willing passengers seeking transit into the heart of the Batarian Hegemony. One of them, a fellow Asari, had the look of a fugitive about her – the darting and panicked eyes, the restlessness at every stop and every Relay jump. One of the Batarians in transit had attempted conversation, but Liara had rebuffed him silently: to talk was to risk discovery – a risk she couldn't afford to take. Tell no one of your journey or purpose, Jondum Bau had told her. Dutifully, she did not.

The familiar, rickety hum of the freighter's engines brought her fully back to the present, as she quickly gathered her few belongings and departed the dank, damp, stuffy confines of her chamber for the last time. She paid no regard to the flurry of activity around her, moving carefully to avoid the frantic and rushing freighter crew around her. Ascending the ladder from the lower deck, she moved amongst the crates of cargo crammed into every corner of the upper decks to get a view out of the sole observation window on the rickety freighter.

"We are approaching Omega. All crew standby to dock and unload."

Through the observation porthole, a faint, orange glow on the horizon began to coalesce into more distinctly artificial shapes. From the darkness of space, the station of Omega emerged, almost as if cloaked in shadows. It must surely have been beautiful once, but Liara saw few traces of this former life left behind. The upper half of the station was dominated by the mined-out husk of a once Eezo-rich asteroid, long since picked dry by millennia of scavengers and wildcat miners. Now, the asteroid was lined with prefab modules stacked haphazardly one on top of the other – no semblance of a grand plan or vision for the station seemed to exist. Where half of the asteroid had long ago been ripped away by a massive interstellar collision, enterprising groups in the Terminus Systems had built a motley collection of refineries and processing facilities. These gave way to habitation facilities and whole space stations that seemed grafted onto the massive frame of the station. In total, it must have extended some forty kilometers down from the base of the asteroid, giving the station the appearance akin to an aquatic creature. A ring of mass effect field generators lined the base of the asteroid. From a distance, it looks prickly, Liara thought to herself. Matches its reputation.

Stories of Omega had drifted through the Asari Republics for centuries: they called it the Citadel of the Terminus Systems, and not without merit. For hundreds of years, Omega had acted as a hub and haven for criminal organizations, terrorists, fugitives, and those caught in the horrific web of the Terminus Systems. It was utterly lawless, devoid of true leadership, and governed by the strength of force and the barrel of the gun rather than justice or peace. The ancient Asari name for the station translated as "the heart of evil" and, even just glimpsing the station for the first time, Liara could see why.

As Omega loomed closer and closer during their approach, Liara began to discern a strange pattern to the station. Construction along the lower levels and outer ring seemed to move in phases, with each wave of arrivals adding their own distinctive flair to the architecture of the station. Some of the construction must have been thousands of years old, giving the entire station a distinct sense of rusting from the outside in. Liara rather suspected that it was the other way around.

"Shadow of the Hegemon will be docking in three minutes. All crew prepare ship for arrival." The announcement over the freighter's comms system spurred a flurry of activity on board. All around her, the myriad of Batarian, Turian, and Human crewmembers swarmed for their posts, battening down cargo and manning their posts.

Slowly, the freighter made for the bottom edge of the asteroid's rock face, passing through a ring of mass effect generators and making for the station's docking bays. Liara had grown accustomed to a wide range of port facilities, from the sleek beauty of the Citadel or Thessia to the rugged docks that lined many of the mining worlds she had conducted digs on, but Omega was something else entirely. The main freight bays were a crowded, seething mass of ships of every conceivable shape, size, and age: troopships, cargo freighters, personal starships, smuggling vessels, refugee ships, and an innumerable host of aircars buzzing about through the docks. A thick vale of smoke hung over the dockyards, the streets below choked in self-lit fires and industrial exhaust.

The Shadow of the Hegemon was directed to one of the larger cargo-bays in the third dockyard, and the ship's Turian co-pilot carefully maneuvered the freighter's vast bulk into the slipway. Two dock workers – one Salarian, the other Batarian – provided guidance as the freighter landed, and when the moment of contact with Omega inevitably arrived it shook the entire vessel. Liara was nearly thrown off her feet by the rough force of the landing, grabbing one of the side rails on the observation port as the entire ship rocked back and forth.

When the shaking stopped, she straightened herself and vacated the cargo decks. All around her, the crew had begun unloading much of the cargo that had been taken on, only some of which was identifiable. To avoid the movements of the crew, Liara went to the command deck, hoping to glean some information from the captain of the Shadow of the Hegemon before she threw herself into the hell of Omega.

She found the captain in the cockpit, duly filling out a series of electronic checklists with his co-pilot. The Turian appeared frustrated, pausing in his methodical work to mutter to himself about "these damn customs forms."

"I didn't think Omega had a central authority," Liara enquired as she entered the cockpit.

"It doesn't," the Batarian captain replied. "But the docks are controlled by the Endline Corporation. Total monopoly. Have to pay the fees if you want to dock."

The solution seemed simple enough to Liara. "So break up the monopoly."

"Easier said than done. The big three won't – too much strategic interest in a neutral party holding the docks. Endline also forcibly shuts down any competition. You either pay the fee or hope to the gods that they don't fucking find you." The captain regarded her coolly. "What are you here for?"

"You asked for the final portion of my fee. I am here to pay it."

"Of course," the captain responded. "Ten thousand credits."

"Ten thousand? I've already paid you forty thousand for transport and discretion – surely that's more than enough."

"The voyage was more expensive than anticipated."

"I'm not paying you ten thousand credits."

The Turian idled up beside the captain, his beady eyes raking themselves up and down Liara's figure in a manner that made her skin crawl. "You could always pay us in…alternative docking fees."

Liara got his meaning immediately. Grimacing in disgust, she transferred another ten thousand credits to the freighter's account. She'd take her dignity over her pride. She turned to go. "One last thing. Where is the establishment known as Afterlife?"

"Follow the flow," the Turian responded. "You'll know it when you get there."

Liara disembarked quickly from the Shadow of the Hegemon, eager to put as much distance as she could between her and the dank misery of the freighter. Upon exiting the vessel, she was unceremoniously deposited into a mass of people. The dockyards were teeming with life from every species in the galaxy, including many that she had glimpsed only rarely. The station was swelteringly hot, a feeling only magnified by the packing of bodies and the smoke rising from the warehouses that lined the docks. Amid the chaos, Liara barely knew where to go: there was no customs authority, no information kiosk, no formal assistant to point her in the right direction. She'd assumed that she would simply meet Garrus once they both arrived, yet that could prove impossible in the crowd.

Amidst the din, one defining feature struck her above all the others: everyone wore armour. Much of it was commonly patterned, from the navy discs of the Blue Suns to the fire-sprayed dazzle patterns of Eclipse mercenaries. It came in all shapes, sizes, and qualities, from cobbled-together sets of armour to sleek, professional models worn by mercenaries who blended almost perfectly into the seething mass of bodies. But they all wore it. Omega had no laws, but this seemed to be one: don't go outside without protection.

To navigate her way out of the docks, Liara simply picked a point and moved towards it. After five minutes of pushing and shoving her way through the crowd, she spotted a neon wallpost that appeared to indicate a direction to the Endline Corporation office. The company's logos and advertisements were ubiquitous, even if Liara didn't see the need for such things in the monopoly of dock control.

Reaching the sign, Liara passed through a monochrome archway beneath the neon lighting and out into the streets of Omega. Where the docks had been a seething mass of crew and cargo, the plaza beyond Endline's sprawling tower was nearly empty, with but a handful of passersby in the street. Such emptiness gave her a spectacular view of Omega from within. Rather than build a series of self-contained modules on the surface of the asteroid, Omega's denizens had simply built within the enormous rock, sealing the station from below and creating a space that was simultaneously claustrophobic and expansive. Liara felt herself overwhelmed by the darkness that seemed to cling to every corner of this station. Even the streetlights, storefronts, and ubiquitous advertising could not drown out the looming black of the enormous rock face of the asteroid. In the distance, Liara could see barely-shimmering towers of light and steel that wound their way up through the asteroid, each using the ceiling of the planetoid's vast interior as a stabilizer against gravity's perilous threat. Whole districts branched off from these towers at all manner of intervals. Everything here is chaos; even the urban planning. There was no plan, no vision, and no scheme. Every conceivable shape and size of building loomed around her as she strode through the plaza, from ancient and ornate buildings of Turian and Asari design to drab, "brutilist" concrete slabs of apartment blocks that cast an ugly shadow across the landscape.

The very streets seemed to match the pall of darkness that cloaked the horizons. Durasteel gave way to stone at random and unpredictable intervals, making for a treacherous journey across the plaza. The streets and walls were choked by a layer of soot and grime so thick that it obscured any colour that might have once existed on the buildings' frames. Even outside the dockyards, the air was painfully warm to breathe, making Liara lightheaded as she traversed the main square.

Where was Garrus? He had only contacted once since their meeting on the Citadel: a single message had indicated that he had found transport into the Terminus Systems, but that getting to Omega would prove more difficult. Without anyone from the outside world – friends, allies, or even the guarantee of the militaries of the Hierarchy or Alliance, Liara suddenly felt naked and alone in the vast chaos of the Terminus. Yet she could not wait for Garrus to arrive; Bau had been very specific about the need for haste, lest Shepard's body be lost to them. Pausing near the edge of the plaza, Liara sent a lone message to Garrus, indicating that she had reached Omega and gone to Afterlife. She would have to hope that their paths would cross, but for now, that was all she could do.

It took nearly a half-hour, but she at long last found transport to Afterlife. She eventually deduced that the dockyards were located in the Tauru District, and had spent the better part of an hour seeking out someone who would direct her to Afterlife. At long last, a fellow Asari had pointed her in the right direction, and Liara found herself crammed into the back of a packed transport shuttle on her way to the Tuhi District of Omega. The shuttle was privately-owned, and had charged a small fortune in order to board. The two pilots had checked each boarding passenger for explosives, yet everywhere Liara looked in the crowd of several dozen aboard the shuttle she could see holstered weapons – some concealed, some not. The atmosphere seemed to rest on the edge of a knife, with glances of caution, fear, and distrust on the faces of the present company. Liara suspected that the slightest irregularity might send them all over the edge, devolving the shuttle into a hail of gunfire and carnage.

Was this daily life for the denizens of Omega? Did they live in constant fear, not knowing who was liable to draw a weapon and extort, rob, assault, or kill them? Did they distrust everyone they met, just as liable to pull a gun on them as be attacked? Were their credit accounts raided on a daily basis by the predators that seemed to run every business on this station? Liara studied the faces of those around her, wondering what had brought each of them to this station. Was it the promise of money, or even the simple lure of the possibility of money? Work? War? Love? Hate? Regardless of the reason, they all seemed to now wear that same look of dejection, fear, and an acceptance of their seemingly wretched state. Liara hoped her stay on Omega ended far better than theirs seemed to have.

The shuttle deposited them in the heart of the Tuhi district, a region of the station located in the heart of the shell of the asteroid. The sprawl of plazas, nightclubs, and apartment towers wrapped itself around the helix of the Core Road – a single roadway that wound down into the artificial depths of Omega's lower superstructure. Tall, metallic towers of residential complexes rose up around the district. Though anchored into the base and ceiling of the rock like those in the Tauru District, these seemed far nicer, and glowed with a faint light sheen of modernity. The district was also buzzing with traffic of a more vibrant sort than the dockyards – the streets were lined with shops and kiosks selling everything under the sun, from weapons and armour to exotic food and tech equipment. Even the armour seemed cleaner, and there was a noticeably thinner crowd of mercenary-patterned gear in this part of the station. Music of every conceivable mix blared from the nightclubs and bars that dotted the district.

In the center of it all was Afterlife – the nightclub that she had been told to meet her contact in. From the entrance, it looked to be one of the more grandiose and expansive of Omega's establishments, with enormous double doors illuminating the entire plaza in front of them. The name of the club was embossed in colourful fluorescent lighting above the entrance, while the doors themselves were adorned with flashing lights that produced a pattern of fire as they parted. The lineup in front of Afterlife was immense, stretching through the plaza and around the corner; two menacing Elcor bouncers policed who was and was not permitted inside, with many disgruntled onlookers standing amidst the pack. Four more guards straddled the doors to Afterlife themselves, each wearing identical black armour and armed to the teeth.

Seeing no other way in, Liara made her way to the back of the line, nestling in between two Humans decked out in teal armour embossed with a single white eye across the chestplate. It wasn't a mercenary group she recognized, but they looked dangerous.

The gaze of one of the mercs swept up and down the Asari's body. "What are you here for, beautiful? Auditioning for the dances?"

Liara shook her head. "Meeting a friend."

"Oh?" the other moved towards her, his own leery gaze partially obscured by his helmet. "And what sort of friend would that be?"

"A friend," Liara responded curtly.

"Come now, there's no need to be testy with us," the first replied. "Where are you from?"

Liara caught herself before she could reply with Thessia. "Illium."

"Illium? Interesting. And what brings you to Omega?"

"Business."

The line moved forward at an agonizingly slow pace, growing behind them as the day's cycle drew to a dimming close. For nearly an hour, the two mercenaries prodded her with questions of an inane variety about her life and purpose. As best she could, she evaded them. Instead, she preferred to watch as the nightlife of Omega stuttered to life around her. It lacked the serenity of Thessia or the ambient beauty of the Citadel, but there was a chaotic edge to Omega's artificial night that was frightening and alluring.

When they finally reached the front of the line, the Elcor bouncer regarded the two mercenaries with an indecipherable expression.

"Inquisitively: do you wish to enter Afterlife?"

"Aye, that's right we do. Long day, and I need to drink."

"Factually: you are required to pay an entry fee of forty credits."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me – forty credits?! You know Chaoz in the Gozu District charges less than half that?!"

"Obstinate: This is not Chaoz. This is Afterlife. Simply: pay the entry or do not."

"This is highway robbery, you do realize."

"Barely-concealed annoyance: I don't care. Credits or leave."

"Fine, have it your way." The two mercenaries each deposited their forty credits before making their way up the stairs towards the club's entrance.

Liara was next, and the bouncer eyed her with the same gaze. "Curiously: you are unfamiliar to me. You have not been in Afterlife before."

She tried to navigate her way out of using her real name. "I'm sorry, but you must have me confused with someone else – I have."

"Factually: I remember every face, and yours is not known to me."

The ruse was up, for now. "Fine. I have not been in Afterlife before, but I would like to enter."

"Curtly: You may not unless you are on the guest record."

"I'm not. Is there a way to get on it?"

"With feigned reluctance: No, there is not. You can place your name on the list, before waiting a full cycle to enter Afterlife."

"Why a full cycle?"

"Explanatory: we run full extranet background checks on everyone who wishes to enter the bar. You can leave your name if you wish."

Liara began to panic, frantically searching her brain for possibilities. She'd settled on a pseudonym for her time in the Terminus Systems, but she hadn't counted on needing to create a full extranet background for it. Using her real identity was the only way to enter Afterlife, but doing so was far too risky. If she couldn't get into Afterlife, then there was no hope of finding Shepard.

She decided to gamble with the fake. "Mora T'Soti."

"Succinctly: place your omnitool in front of my scanner and it will upload the necessary background data."

Panic set in again. Without warning, Liara felt her omnitool buzz. Glancing down, she noticed a just-received unread message. She'd hoped it was from Garrus, but there was no identifiable sender or location. Just a single line: Don't. Tell him Jaruut sent you. She looked at the message quizzically, trying to figure out who it could be from or what it meant.

"Sir, that won't be necessary. I'm not trying to kill anyone, and I'm not trying to hide anything. I simply need to speak to Jaruut inside."

The Elcor's massive frame stiffened. "Apologetically: my mistake, Miss T'Soti. Please, enter Afterlife as you wish."

Liara ascended the steps and smiled with grim satisfaction as the huge double-doors parted in front of her. The pounding baseline assaulted her senses almost immediately, the dark rhythms and whispers painfully filling her ears as she traversed the narrow corridor into Afterlife. All around her, people of every sapient species conversed in hushed tones, drinks in hand, some steeling nervous glances across the hall at one another. Neon patterns of light swirled around the corridor, and the entire entryway reeked of sweat and alcohol. Everything about the first step into Afterlife – the sound, the smell, the light – combined to make it an overpowering experience: there was pre- and post-Afterlife in one's reckoning of Omega and its anarchic nightlife.

The entryway gave way to a sprawling nightclub of immense proportions: the upper tier of Afterlife was built as a multi-leveled disc, with a single, cylindrical pillar of videoscreens ascending through the entire room. Every fifteen feet of height, the pillar was surrounded by a platform filled with scantily-clad Asari dancers, each of whom took their turn being ogled by the crowd of mercenaries and low-lives who were packed around the railings that surrounded the pillar. The disc-shaped walkways gave way to dance floors crammed into every conceivable corner, while the upper, outer ring was lined with private booths. To Liara's right, the far wall was devoted entirely to a bar that held exotic alcohols from all over the galaxy, each a different shining or metallic colour in its clear glass container. Batarian and Turian bartenders methodically selected, shook, and poured each of the drinks as the dozens of patrons milling about the bar ordered their varying concoctions. Amidst the seemingly random energy or the dance floors and the general chaos of Omega, the upper level of Afterlife felt methodical, surgical – almost military-like precision. A raging calm amidst an even wilder storm.

Liara quickly made her way through the upper tier of Afterlife, dodging the groping hands of drunken and leering customers as she moved around the perimeter of the club's main ring. She noticed clusters of visibly armed mercenaries ringed around the stairs that led further up the club, and made a point of moving in the opposite direction. She spotted the alcove that led to the lower tier of the nightclub in the distance, and navigated through the throngs of dancers and revellers towards it.

Ducking into the alcove, Liara welcomed the reprieve from the wall of noise that permeated every square inch of Afterlife. The alcove led into a narrow side corridor that clung to the edge of the sprawling tower the club was housed in. Much of the view outside was obscured by the neon lighting that seemed to cover the complex's outer wall, but Liara could discern the faint lights of other towering structures and districts in the distance. Looking up, one could see the faintest glimmers of the industrial heart of Omega in the upper reaches of the asteroid's interior, with mining machinery suspended above the largest of the self-contained podlike districts. Determined to leave the exploring to a minimum, Liara calmly traversed the corridor, descending the stairs to the lower tier of Afterlife.

The pulsing rhythms of the Lower Afterlife were considerably darker than those of the upper tier, throbbing through the room with a twisted, nightmarish sense of urgency. The room was dominated by the impressive bar in the middle, with several tiers of booths and dance floors on either side of the bar. The booths were dominated by patrons, and many had scantily-clad Asari dancers perched upon them. A number of staircases led to private rooms further below. Craning her neck to see, Liara began to scan the room for an Elcor patron, eventually spotting them perched in one of the raised tiers of seats.

"Excuse me," she said as she approached the Elcor, "do you work here."

"Reluctantly: yes, I do. I am on security duty for the lower level of Afterlife. Angrily: It is not a pleasant shift to be working."

"Really? What has happened?"

"Informatively: gang tension on Omega is high. Talk of attacks in Eclipse-controlled districts is filtering through. Tentatively apprehensive: if fighting continues to escalate, it will breach the sanctuary that Aria has created in this district."

"Aria? Who is Aria?"

"Astounded: you do not know?"

"No, I do not. I am new to this station."

"Curiously: what have you come here seeking?"

"I was told that this was the place to find information on the whereabouts of a Human Frigate that disappeared near Alchera several weeks ago."

"Befuddled: there has been no news of the frigate."

"A high-profile Spectre was aboard."

"With regret: I am afraid I do not know what you are talking about. We have not seen anyone like that here – nor have we been looking."

"You've got to love the Elcor," a new, rasping voice behind her interjected. "They've got all the expressiveness of a tree. If they didn't flag their nuance, you'd have more luck talking to nature than to them."

Liara spun on her heel to see a hooded figure standing against the wall. Clad in a dark, armour-lined trenchcoat, his face was obscured by the coat's hood, yet Liara could still make out the reptilian features and dark, monochrome eyes behind the Drell's outerwear. At his shoulders, the fine cut of cloth gave way to full armour, with interlocking plates lining the neck, shoulders, and arms.

Even on Omega, Drell were a rare sight, but Liara had to be certain. "Are you-,"

The Drell raised a gloved hand to cut her off and nodded silently. "Not here. Too many unknown eyes and ears. Join me at my booth." Liara followed him to the darkest corner of the Afterlife, where the Drell had a private table nestled against the wall. He motioned for her to enter, and Liara seated herself opposite her unknown acquaintance. "It's not safe to ask questions in the open on Omega. I expected even someone from Citadel Space to know that."

As the Drell threw back his hood, revealing his olive-green, leathery skin, Liara finally lost patience. "Just tell me who you are."

"You first. Who are you?"

"Mora T'Sotti."

The Drell shook his head. "Real names."

She had to risk it. "Doctor Liara T'Soni."

"That's more like it. My name is Feron Therion."

Liara swallowed hard. This was him – the contact who would have information on Shepard. "I understand you have information for me, Mr. Therion."

"Please, Feron," he corrected her. "I may. Information is my trade. What do you want to know?"

Liara regarded Feron coolly, her eyes narrowing as she leaned in from across the table. "I want to know where John Shepard is. Think you can help?"

Feron cocked his head to the side, inhaled sharply, and then nodded. "I believe I can, yes. But you won't like what I have to tell you." The Drell let the silence hang in the air, like a knife about to be dropped in a few moments. "John Shepard is dead."

Liara nodded, holding back the sickening feeling in the back of her throat. "I know. But still, I want to know where Shepard is, dead or alive."

"You'll like that even less."

"How do you mean?"

"Perhaps 'dead' is too simplistic a term to describe Shepard's current condition. He certainly is not alive." Beyond their booth, four openly armed figures entered Lower Afterlife, prompting Feron to lean in. "The Blue Suns recovered his body on Alcheron."

Liara leaned in, gritting her teeth as she responded in whispers. "I knew that. That's not why you're here. Where is his body now?"

"Somewhere on Omega, awaiting transit off-world. That's all I know. It will be handed off to someone else at-," Feron cast another worried glance as more dark figures entered the bar. "Your nine-o-clock; six mercs – Blue Suns. Openly armed. We need to leave."

Liara silently nodded, drawing her pistol underneath the table. The mercs began stopping customers as they danced or drank, demanding to see their identification. Liara's throat constricted as they got closer, her eyes worryingly darting to the Blue Suns drawing closer to their booth. If they got close enough to recognize her, there were too many of them for her and Feron to fight their way out. Most of Afterlife's patrons seemed to comply, though conversely none of them pointed the mercenaries towards Liara and Feron.

On the far side of the nightclub, two of the mercenaries came to a Salarian opposite their table, himself clad in black and gold-streaked armour. When asked for his identification, the patron visibly protested. Another of the mercenaries came to stand next to him, yet the Salarian only escalated his objections. Feron took advantage of the commotion to slip out of the booth, slipping his hood back over his face as he dropped to a squat on the floor. Liara followed behind him, readying her biotics in case the Blue Suns mercenaries came near them.

She needn't have bothered. Through the glass, she saw the Salarian headbutt one of the mercenaries, before drawing a pistol and firing two shots into the other's chest. Time seemed to stop as every face in the room turned to the spot. The bar instantly dissolved into chaos, as nearly every patron drew their weapon and began firing into the crowd. The bar in the centre of the room appeared to disintegrate as shards of glass shattered in every conceivable direction. The bartenders and dancers ducked in cover, but many were caught in the crossfire as mercenaries fought one another and the armed patrons of Afterlife.

Liara reacted instinctively, rolling for cover as Feron flipped one of the tables on its side to provide shielding from the firefight going on around them. "Fucking hell, what just happened?!" Feron shouted over the din of bullets and shattering glass. "There's an exit around the corner of the railing – we just need an opening to get through!"

Closing her eyes, Liara focused her mind on a single, invisible point in front of her, attuning her body and mind on the point and allowing it to ebb and flow around her. Clenching her jaw, she brought up a biotic barrier around herself, then focused again to expand it around herself and Feron. "There's your opening! Take my hand and I can keep it around both of us!" Feron obliged, gripping her wrist tightly as they ducked behind the glass and made for the lower exit.

All around them, gunfire ripped the bar apart – the ornate cushions within the individual booths were shredded along with the customers sitting in them. It was a firefight as chaotic as it was unpredictable, and Liara felt the barrier strain under the impact of bullets from every conceivable direction. They moved quickly, looking only at the exit as they moved for it. As soon as they touched the ramp leading further down into Omega, Liara dropped the barrier and sprinted for the airlock with Feron close behind. The Drell was already keying in the codes for the exit, and both breathed a sigh of relief as the exit lit up green. Liara threw herself through the exit.

The two landed in a heap as the doors sealed behind them. Feron wired the door to lock, leaving only the muffled sounds of carnage behind them. He turned to her, wiping the sweat from his leathery brow. "As you can see, you are not the only one interested in finding Shepard." He looked at her with pleading in his eyes. "I've heard about you – that you were close to the Commander. I'm sorry, but it may be best to let the dead rest. Go back to Citadel space, leave the Terminus Systems to their dark deeds."

Liara was resolute. "I need find Shepard, for his sake as much as for mine."

Feron cast a defeated gaze at the floor before fixing Liara again with those liquid-like eyes. "Fine. It's your money and your life."

Liara nodded. "Lead on, Mr. Therion."

Feron led her through a winding maze of side-streets that surrounded Lower Afterlife, pausing at every corner to check for mercs. "This isn't like the Citadel or your gleaming towers of Thessia, you know," he lectured her as they crouched in one alleyway waiting for a crowd of people to pass. "The private transport fleeces you dry. It's going to be a long way on foot." Liara nodded, and they turned the corner into a small square in the midst of the alleys. Flanked by catwalks on each side, she could see the smoking towers of one of Omega's industrial districts in the distance, while neon lighting pointed to Afterlife and other clubs in the area.

"The trade is supposed to go down in the industrial district, but the exact location could change at a moment's notice. We'll head in that direction – we're more likely to glean information from the local feeds than around Afterlife. Once we're there, I'll run a hack and-,"

Feron's instructions died in his mouth as he was interrupted by the telltale cocking of several weapons, as a squad of armoured figures bolted from the alleyways around them. They were clearly Blue Suns, judging from the navy and grey colour patterns of their armour, and Liara could see Batarians, Humans and – strangely – a Krogan amongst them. She counted eleven – too many for just her and Feron to take, especially being surrounded from every side. Both of them drew their sidearms, but they were surrounded before they had a chance to react further.

"Well this is not good" Feron whispered under his breath.

"Keep your biotics back, Asari," the Krogan uttered menacingly as he approached them, shotgun drawn and cocked, "or I'll blast your pretty skull all over this district."

"What do you want?" Feron shot back.

"You've come to Omega looking for a dead man," one of the Human mercenaries said, walking towards Liara. His helmet obscured his facial expression from view, but the man tilted his head to the side as he eyed them. "The Shadow Broker wants to know why, Asari."

The Shadow Broker? Liara was puzzled by the mention of the mysterious collector and seller of information who dominated so much of galactic politics. What does he, or she, or it, or they, have to do with Shepard? Whatever it was, she racked her brains looking for possibilities. On our side? Definitely not. Simply selling the information? That didn't make sense either – you didn't send hundreds of armed mercenaries after information. Are they also looking for Shepard? That seemed the most logical, a prospect which sent chills down Liara's spine. These were magnified as she glanced upward, her gaze drawn to a solitary sniper positioning themselves on one of the catwalks above them, drawing their rifle and crouching behind the railing. She didn't have to see further than the blue streaks in the armour to know that there was no escape. Every angle, every height. Shit.

She decided to gamble for time, hoping she or Feron could divine some way of escape before the Blue Suns tired of them. "My interest in Commander Shepard is my own affair - not yours, and certainly not the Shadow Broker's."

The Krogan mercenary laughed, the hearty roar of the battle-hardened killer causing Liara to tense. "You must not have got the memo, Asari. Everything is the Shadow Broker's business. Especially this. Shepard's a very hot commodity. One that we want quite intently. I suggest you quit wasting our time and talk." The Krogan cocked his shotgun again for added effect, readying his biotics as the mercs around him aimed down their sights.

And then his head exploded.

Liara ducked as the mercenaries lowered their weapons in surprise. The blast from the Krogan's skull flew in all directions, coating those nearest the corpse with the Krogan's blood. Three of the mercenaries turned to face the direction of the shot, looking upwards towards the catwalk where the sniper was already lining up another shot.

Over her omnitool, Liara heard a familiar, metallic voice whisper softly in her earpiece. "Scoped…"

The second shot rang out, piercing one of the Human mercenaries in the neck. Dropping their gun, the Blue Sun soldier collapsed in a writhing heap.

"…and dropped." Liara looked up to see the last flourish of Garrus's salute from his position on the catwalk before the Turian dropped back behind cover. "I'll take them," he said simply. "Run."

They did, Feron scrambling from beside one of the shipping containers he had dropped behind when the Krogan had been killed. They sprinted blindly, putting as much distance between themselves and the Blue Suns as they could. They ducked, dodged, and wove indiscriminately, not caring where they were going. Liara could hear footsteps on the roofs above them, and she cast a worried glance behind them as they turned another corner in the labyrinth of alleyways that marked the district, yet the footsteps continued unabated. From the sound, they were slightly to their left, but gaining on them quickly.

"Where are you trying to go?" Feron called from behind her.

"Anywhere but here!"

They rounded another corner and skidded to a halt in front of a sheer drop at the edge of the district. It was easily sixty feet to the next level, and neither fancied their chances of survival if they dropped. Feron began to pace back and forth on the narrow escarpment they were perched on, searching his memory for another way out of the district. "This has to be new. I know this district like clockwork. There has to be another path."

The roar of the shuttle's engines overpowered the rest of what he was saying, and Liara's gaze turned to the Kodiak shuttle that had appeared from behind one of Omega's bristling towers. Unlike those of the Alliance that she had become accustomed to seeing, coated in navy blue and grey, this shuttle was ghost-white, with two dark lines forming a cross over the roof of the shuttle. The windows were completely tinted, obscuring any view of the inside. She had no idea who, or what, was inside. "One way or another, I don't think finding an escape route is our main concern now."

The shuttle came to hover in front of them, slipping next to the ledge as the main cargo door swung open from above. Standing in front of them was a single, alluring Human female, clad in a skin-tight white jumpsuit with a formidable sidearm clipped to her belt. Streaks of wispy white hair punctuated her hairline, giving her an appearance that was equally austere and mysterious. She was flanked by two heavily armoured soldiers clutching Avenger assault rifles, their own faces obscured by the heavy helmets they wore.

The woman extended a hand to Liara, gently flaring her biotics as they neared. "Get in," she ordered simply.

Liara looked behind her, to the unknown threats that still lay within the district. She looked at Feron, who was eyeing the woman with a mix of curiosity and restlessness. She looked at the woman in front of her, the surety of her stance and her gaze.

What choice do I have?

Liara and Feron climbed aboard.