The First and the Last

Four: The Boatman

Five minutes earlier

Jondum hated tunnels.

If he'd had his way, all infiltration ops would be conducted above-ground: you could keep your bearings and easily spot lookouts that you had to avoid; sound travelled on the surface, and signaled threats long before you could see them. And then there was the smell – that dank, damp, excruciatingly hot shadow of moisture that clung to every pore of Omega's subterranean network of tunnels. Yet this was where Jondum found himself, scurrying like a varren beneath the surface, waiting for the opportune moment to strike at the transaction taking place above.

Finding the location of the deal between Vult and the Blue Suns had been straightforward: he'd expected "the eye of the storm" to reference some infernally complex and remote location on Omega – a disused sector of the station that no one alive knew how to access. It had taken him less than half an hour to learn of the demise of the Storm Cartel. Finding schematics of the complex had been easy as well – an old contact from New Cousteau had done the digging, and found a layout of the warehouses reliable enough to give him an entrance. He found the location odd: it was in the heart of Eclipse territory, and the mercenary group's complete control of the surrounding airspace would mean transporting Shepard's corpse to the Endline-controlled docks on the ground. Why take so many risks? Jondum had wondered when he'd set out from the Tauru District. Tazzik has always been cautious – never prone to recklessness. This doesn't seem like a choice of rendezvous that he'd prefer.

The tunnels into the Storm Cartel hideout? Those had been more difficult to find. He knew of the existence of a tunnel network beneath the surface of Omega, yet had little firsthand knowledge of it: Aria was said to be the only inhabitant of the station who could navigate the entire maze of corridors, ventilation shafts, and tunnels burrowed into the bedrock of the asteroid. He could have wandered for hours through the labyrinth and never found what he was looking for, yet he'd stumbled across one of Aria's agents – a female Turian – while trying to make sense of the network. A former member of the Hierarchy's elite Cabal unit, she'd pointed him in the right direction from there.

He'd found the tunnel entrances to the Storm Cartel complex deliberately collapsed by Vult, blocking his access to the warehouse above. He'd spent the last ten minutes gingerly applying remote charges to the rubble, hoping that the few explosives he had would be sufficient for the job. If it's not, they'll know I'm here anyways. Upon reaching the tunnels, he'd tapped into the security feed from the complex, giving him a full view of the proceedings. He'd recognized Tazzik immediately, though the fellow Salarian only seemed to have grown in size and brutality in the year since Jondum had last seen him. Working for the Shadow Broker has been good for you, old friend. His eyes were drawn to the menacing shotgun slung across Tazzik's back: uncollapsed, a single drum cartridge allowed for multiple thermal clips to be loaded at once, more than tripling the weapon's killing power.

Jondum checked his explosives one last time as his feed warned of the approach of a convoy of Blue Suns ground transports. He'd only get one shot at this. Penetrate the facility too early, and he'd be hopelessly outgunned by the dozens of Vult mercenaries who occupied the building and the surrounding rooftops. Breach too late, and he'd miss what was surely his best opportunity to prevent Shepard's body from being given to the Collectors. He watched the beginnings of the exchange passively, struggling to interpret the patchy audio over his feed. He pondered his plan of action as the Blue Suns unloaded the stasis pod containing Shepard's remains. When is the opportune moment? Is it as they hand the body over? Is it before or after the Blue Suns have left the facility?

And even then, what do I do? A standoff is suicide, stowing away in their transports nearly impossible. He'd have to wing it. Yet the first puzzle gnawed away at him as the exchange was completed. When will the opportune moment be?

His concentration was broken by the sudden movement on his omnitool, and his gaze was drawn to the sight of Tazzik viciously crushing the life out of the Batarian mercenary who had given him the body. He cut away to the other feeds, watching as the remaining Blue Suns mercenaries were gunned down where they stood by the surrounding Vult soldiers. Before a minute was up, none of the blue-armoured mercenaries remained alive.

Well, it would appear to be now.

Jondum turned off the feed and tapped his omnitool into the Vult internal comms. Most of it was irrelevant chatter – orders to dispose of the bodies, to prep the ground transports for departure, to complete a final sweep of the complex. Amidst the chatter, he picked out Tazzik's ominous, menacing baritone, its tones and inflections steeped in efficiency and authority.

"We need to move. We had hoped to eliminate all the loose ends before this operation started. But it would appear that we aren't alone."

Does he know I'm here? Have Cerberus tripped the Broker's radar? Or is this something else entirely? It's hard enough to win this game as is. Not knowing how many players are on the board doesn't help. His concentration shifted from the audio feed as he checked his explosives one final time. Satisfied with his work, he retreated to a safe distance from the rubble before priming the charge. The explosives worked on a timer, and the countdown on his omnitool gave him time to prepare for what lay ahead. Closing his eyes, Jondum mentally drowned out all the chatter from the Vult audio feed, the dripping of water from the sewer pipes arrayed above him, the dull thrumming of the furnaces in the bowels of Omega, the booted footsteps above that echoed through the tunnels. He focused his mind on a single point in front of him, silently reciting the oath he had taken as an Arbiter.

I am the shield of Thessia, the sword of Palaven, the eyes of Sur-Kesh. I am the first and last line of defense, the only blow that need be struck. Forty seconds. I am the eyes and ears of the Citadel and its Council, and the keeper of the island of order in an ocean of chaos. Thirty seconds. The familiarity of the words calmed him, steeling his nerves and focusing the adrenaline coursing through his system. I am the lone beacon in the night, standing watch at the doors of hell, ready to risk all to defend all. Twenty seconds. I will faithfully serve and protect the Citadel with every inch of my life, with my skills and my talents. Ten seconds. So long as I draw breath, the enemies of the Citadel will know what it means to live in fear.

He didn't so much hear the charges detonate as he felt it, the explosion sending tongues of heat in all directions in the tunnels. Jondum felt the embrace of the warmth even from this distance, felt the shockwave hit him as the pile of rubble was reduced to a fine powder. He looked up, pleased with his work. A gap large enough to crouch through had emerged in the wreckage of the tunnel entrance, leaving Jondum with a way into the complex. He quickly climbed what remained of the rubble, peering into the darkness to discern what lay ahead of him. The walls were covered in blast-marks and smeared in the blood of a multitude of species – some Turian, some Batarian, some Human. Several of the tiles had fragmented under explosive blasts wrought during the taking of the facility by Vult. To Jondum's left, they had piled the equipment of the Storm Cartel in an alcove nestled between the furnaces and the concrete foundation. To his right, a narrow, spiraled steel staircase led further into the complex. It was impossible to see through the metal grating of the stairwell, and sound traveled sparsely through the facility.

As he crossed the threshold of the complex, he felt his boots graze against armour. Glancing at his feet, Jondum saw the remains of a Vult trooper who had been caught in the blast. He smiled to himself as he took another step. It would be the first of many corpses today.

Once more unto the breach.

Liara followed Feron down the narrow crevice in the rock escarpment opposite the complex that Vult occupied, carefully shifting her weight to her hands as she maneuvered her feet down the granite face. Ducking behind an outcropping in the formation, the sniper-laden roof of the complex was obscured from their view. Hopefully that means they can't see us either.

Below her, Feron released his grip on the wall and dropped to the solid ground below. Glancing to make sure the fall was safe, Liara let go and landed in a heap beside him. "Nearly there," Feron whispered to her as he offered her a hand to get up. "We're past the checkpoints, and the snipers will be concentrated on the rooftops. Now's our chance." They made their way out into the narrow side-street behind the Vult checkpoint. It was barely wide enough to drive an armoured transport through, but it gave Liara and Feron a concealed path towards the warehouse's entrance. They covered the distance quickly, careful to watch for snipers on the rooftops above them. The six Vult guards at the far end of the roadway behind them seemed oblivious to their presence – they were more concerned about interference from outside of the complex's perimeter than from within it.

Reaching a corner in the complex's outer wall, Liara cast a glance across at the main entrance. The loading docks were littered with the bodies of the Blue Suns mercenaries that had brought Shepard's corpse. The grey-suited Vult soldiers had begun piling them in the small courtyard, while others stripped the bodies and vehicles of weapons and equipment. There were nearly a dozen mercenaries that Liara could see.

"Far too many for us to sneak past," Feron observed as Liara swiveled her head to look at him.

His readiness to concede defeat annoyed Liara, and she pressed him on alternatives. "Any other routes into the facility that you know of?"

"The schematics I have indicate a subterranean tunnel entrance, but they likely collapsed those as a precaution. The three rooftop exits will be covered by snipers. These blueprints are old, and I don't know of any other ways in-," Feron suddenly quieted as further chatter over the Vult comms units piqued his interest. "Hold on a moment." He pressed his left index finger to his ear, focusing intently on what was being said over the Vult channels. "They're moving out. We don't have much time to get in."

Liara cast another worried glance at the courtyard, her heart sinking at the prospect of losing their chase. They were so close and yet so far, but there were simply too many mercs between her and Shepard's body. If only we'd been able to find Garrus. Had the Turian been here, they might have been able to take on a dozen mercenaries and get inside. But they'll be long gone by the time we can get…can…

Inspiration came to Liara in a flash, flooding her mind with ideas and possibilities. Her breathing accelerated as she brought her head to rest against the cold stone of the wall. "So don't try and get in."

Feron cast a puzzled look at her. "I don't follow."

"They don't have shuttles inside, do they?" Feron shook his head. "So they have to return to the docks. Which means they'll have to clear Endline." Feron nodded, understanding suddenly dawning on him. "There will be fewer of them there. We'll stand a better chance of recovering Shepard."

"I like the way you think, T'Soni, but how are we going to get out of this zone without being killed by Vu-, wait." He opened up his omnitool and began furiously typing, pulling up schematics and floorplans that were impossible to discern from where Liara was standing. "It's risky, but one of the Vult ground transports has a rear storage compartment large enough for two people."

"Which one?"

"The third from the right."

Liara was already off and running, skidding to a halt behind one of the waist-high concrete barricades that surrounded the complex. Biding her time, she waited until a passing patrol had moved out of earshot, before shuffling her way along the side of a heavily armoured Vult troop transport. Feron cast a worried glance at the half-dozen mercenaries surrounding the compound, then, pushing himself low to the ground, scurried across to crouch next to Liara. Waiting for the nearest patrol to pass, Liara mentally recited everything that Shepard and Garrus had taught her about infiltration ops, hoping that her training would come good. Check your corners. Never move faster than you have to. Keep your weapons silent for as long as you can – longer, if possible. She spotted a brief window of opportunity to reach their target, and she shifted her body until she was on all fours, crawling along the base of the barriers with Feron close behind her. Twice, she nearly thought they'd been compromised, but the snipers in her line of sight didn't notice them. Relieved, Liara finally brought herself to crouch next to the vehicle. It was a large, closed-top armoured support vehicle, with an 80mm mass effect cannon perched atop its bulky frame and ten wheels. It vaguely resembled a Salarian Helix Fighting Vehicle, and could probably hold six or seven mercenaries.

"There's a holding compartment on the rear," Feron noted as he caught up to Liara. "Let's get it open." He activated his omnitool, hacking into the vehicle's internal protocols. With a deft movement of his fingers, the Drell keyed in the code and watched with satisfaction as a small panel swung open on the rear of the vehicle. The hold was cramped – barely large enough to hold them both – but it was their only option. Casting a glance sideways to make sure they were clear, Liara maneuvered herself into the hold first. Feron maneuvered in beside her, his wiry body adeptly utilizing every spare inch of space in the cramped hold.

"Roomy" Liara observed as Feron brought the hatch back to its closed position, plunging them into darkness. "Is there enough air in here, or will we suffocate with the fumes?" She'd heard of such horrors occurring in trafficking operations across Citadel and Terminus space: migrants, refugees, or fugitives would be locked in the hold for the duration of the journey, only to have their dust-choked and lifeless bodies pulled from the poorly-ventilated chambers several hours later.

Feron pulled up the vehicle's schematics on his omnitool, casting an eerie glow across the walls of the cargo hold. "It's fully connected into the general circulation of the vehicle. We should be fine." He regarded her coolly as he tried to maneuver his left leg into a more comfortable position. "That is, provided confinement doesn't drive us mad first."

"You didn't have any better ideas," Liara replied through gritted teeth. "It's far from ideal, but we're not dead."

"Yet."

Feron reactivated their link to the Vult comms channels, filling Liara's earpiece with static and chatter. Outside their small compartment, they could hear the booted feet of mercenaries all around them, mixed with the holstering of weapons and the loading of equipment.

"Beta Team, this is Alpha Five. Prepare to move out. Delta will provide flanking support from the Grizzly while Gamma completes the sweep here."

"Copy that, Alpha. The package is secure?"

"With Tazzik and Centurion Chirin's team. We'll provide close cover in the Helixes and 080s."

"Copy. Moving out."

Liara heard the sound of booted feet in the interior of their vehicle, and moments later felt the engine roar to life. The dull hum of the vehicle was both audible and physical within their small compartment, and Feron cast an annoyed glance in the vague direction of the vehicle's cockpit. She was about to offer a rejoinder when the vehicle lurched forward, throwing her off balance and sprawling across Feron's shoulder.

"Delta, Gamma, this is Alpha Four. We are en-route to the dock. The package is in tow."

"Delta copies. With luck, see you on the other side. Deus Vult."

"Deus Vult."

There was a long silence on the comms, but Liara was more interested in the expression they had used as they signed off. Even with her omnitool's translators activated, the phrase had remained inscrutable. What makes them tick? she wondered of the Vult mercenaries who now occupied the main compartment of their vehicle. Why work for the Broker? If they were as professional as they seemed, surely money was not a significant concern.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a stern, annoyed voice over the Vult comms. "Gamma, this is Alpha Four. Do you copy?"

Silence.

"Gamma Two is not responding. Beta, check the connection."

Silence again.

"Nothing. Transmission vectors check out fine."

"Notify Operative Chirin."

"Notify me of what?" The voice on the other end piqued Liara's interest. Female, it bore the metallic edge of the Turian vocal range. Even in a race renowned for its martial discipline and dedication to military service, Liara had never met a female Turian who actively engaged in combat.

"We're not getting any response from Gamma Two. The bunker has gone silent."

"Then we have a problem. Get Gamma Four or Five on the line."

There was a long pause as the techs worked to establish contact. When they did so, the voice on the other end – another Turian, male this time – was laced with an edge of fear and panic.

"-us is down! I repeat: Librius is down!"

The mercenary named Chirin was the first to respond. "Maius, what the fuck is going on back there?"

"Intruder came from below! Six dead, another three likely to follow! Oh shit, he's trying to pursu-" the feed cut out amidst the sound of shouts and gunfire.

"Prepare for possible interception." Tazzik's voice resonated over the Vult comms. "They must not have the stasis pod!"

Liara felt their vehicle accelerate as they barrelled through the narrow side-streets of the Zheigun District. She looked directly at Feron, the glow of her omnitool eerily reflected in dark orbs of his eyes, and mouthed a single, ominous question to him.

Who else was after Shepard?

Three minutes earlier

Jondum replaced his thermal clip as another Vult mercenary collapsed to the ground in front of him. That made five new bodies since he'd breached the tunnels into the facility. The first had come down the spiral staircase expecting to find a gas leak or a technical fault. Three seconds later, his broken body had been tumbling to the base of the stairwell, a single bullet hole in the chestplate. The second and third had been more alert, but still woefully underprepared. They'd at least had their weapons out, but the second had died before he even knew what was going on. The third had gotten a shot off, but their aim was panicked and erratic, merely hitting the stone wall behind Jondum. The last two had been fully prepared for what awaited them –he suspected that the shots fired from their comrades' rifles had alerted them that this was more than a simple structural problem. His shields had borne the brunt of their brief assault, giving him time to line up the shot. He'd taken out the mercenary higher on the stairs first, firing a shot into the mercenary's left knee. Gasping in pain, the Turian had collapsed into the mercenary immediately below him on the stairwell. Both had tumbled over the side, though the one Jondum hadn't shot had at least managed to hang onto the railing. The rest had been too easy: one dangling over the side, legs akimbo; the other doubled over on the ground in pain – Jondum never missed such inviting targets.

Holding his Paladin to the side of his head, Jondum slowly ascended the staircase, careful to check for signs of movement above him as he climbed. He kept one eye firmly trained on the increasingly choppy security feed. The feed showed Vult mercenaries loading the stasis pod containing Shepard's body into one of several armoured vehicles parked in the main garage. They're leaving. Mixed blessing –fewer to fight, but harder to catch. He quickened his pace up the stairs, dropping another Turian mercenary who had rounded the corner just coming into view. The narrow stairwell gave way to a dimly-lit atrium, its splendour long since rotted away by the violence and sands of time that consumed Omega. One wall was taken up entirely by what had once been a pane of windows, looking in on what he only guessed had once been drug labs. The charred equipment had been torched into a twisted and melted husk of its former self, and the floor of the atrium was littered with shards of shattered glass. Another doorway led to what he guessed was the barracks, with bedframes torn apart by the force of explosions. Flash grenades. Simple, yet devastatingly effective. It was the doorway immediately in front of him that intrigued him – the air smelled slightly less foul the closer he got to it – the putrid odour of smoke and burning synthetic polymers cleared up as he walked through. When in doubt, always follow your nose.

He found himself in the sprawling main bay of the Storm Cartel's warehouse. Most of the warehouse was occupied by the vehicle garage. The entire room was strangely empty, with most of the vehicles having long since been cleared out. The doorway led out onto the main level of the warehouse bay, with a second level above him covered in workbenches and several rows of weapon-racks. A lot of good it did them when Vult struck.

The merc presence in the main warehouse was sparse, but still concerning. Jondum ducked behind the burned-out shell of an aircar for cover as several bullets grazed the wall next to him. Pulling up his omnitool, he activated a combat-scanning program that turned the entire room into a series of grid-patterned orange lines on his ocular implants. The hostile outlines of Vult mercenaries stood out in green when he swivelled to glance around the room. The program couldn't see through cloaking devices, but it gave an accurate enough picture of the room for him to get his bearings and spot his targets.

Seven identified targets, plus three signatures deeper in the facility. Cloaking? Unlikely. Too sophisticated of software even for Vult. Four on the main level, three above. Prioritize based on proximity. He shifted his focus to the two nearest him on the main floor. One had taken cover behind a stack of crates to his right, while the other was advancing slowly towards him. Careful to keep himself firmly behind cover, Jondum feinted slightly to the right, creating the perception of advancing towards them. The merc behind cover shifted into the open for a fraction too long, and Jondum seized the opportunity to kill him with a well-placed headshot. The advancing mercenary glanced to his fallen comrade for a moment, giving Jondum time to roll back behind cover and retrieve a proximity mine from a compartment on his utility belt. Calculating the necessary trajectory in his head, he threw the charge directly in front of the merc, who was thrown back by the force of the blast.

The remaining Vult mercenaries were now pouring suppressive fire on his position, and he paused for a moment to mentally tally the types and number of shots that he heard. Five remaining. Three with assault rifles, the rest with shotguns. The shotgun-armed mercs would be the easiest, so Jondum responded by swapping his pistol for the Locust submachine gun. He spotted one of the mercenaries on the upper floor in the midst of reloading and fired a burst into the Turian's midsection that collapsed him to the floor. Dead? Doesn't matter. Just need him out of my way. He spotted one of the shotgun-armed mercenaries advancing on the main floor, rolled out of cover, and snapped out another burst of fire. The merc gave a cry of shock and pain before crumpling into a heap at Jondum's feet.

The remaining mercenaries pulled back for a moment, realizing that their odds of killing this intruder had halved in less than a minute. All three pulled behind cover, waiting for Jondum to make the next move. Could wait them out, beat them through attrition. He glanced at the bay doors of the warehouse, mindful that he was running out of time. If he got bogged down here he would almost certainly lose his target.

There was only one possible conclusion: Have to go for it.

Standing to his full height, Jondum deactivated the wire-frame visual interface and strode out from behind cover, his Locust firmly pointed in the direction of the only remaining mercenary on the main floor. He fired a short burst of fire, doing just enough to draw the two mercs on the upper level out of cover. He was acutely aware of their shots eating away at his shields, which were barely hovering above fifty percent. His first burst of fire knocked out a merc's shields, before his second one brought him to the ground. Replacing his thermal clip, he shifted his attention to the last mercenary on the upper level. He caught his opponent in the left shoulder with a burst from his Locust, but felt a sudden jolt of electricity shudder through his body. Realizing that his shields had been overloaded, he brought his submachine gun to his shoulder to steady it and emptied the entire thermal clip at the merc, killing him in a matter of seconds.

Jondum's feeling of satisfaction turned to one of pain as he felt several rounds enter his side, cracking one of his ribs causing his vision to momentarily haze over. He swivelled to see the last mercenary standing in front of him, an assault rifle firmly aimed Jondum's chest. Using his left hand to rapidly key in the necessary functions on his omnitool, Jondum remotely drained the merc's shields, sighing with relief as his own were replenished by the hack program. The mercenary, a Turian, suddenly seemed aware of his vulnerability, and began to back away from Jondum, trying to buy himself time for his shields to regenerate. Reaching across his body to draw his Paladin with his left hand, Jondum provided no such mercy.

Jondum mentally cursed himself as his armour applied medigel to the wound. He grimaced as he felt the anaesthetic kick in, numbing the pain in his rib and instantly sealing the wound from further bleeding. It would be fully healed within two days, but the pain would be a constant nuisance until then. Seven against one. Not ideal. Doable if they're Blue Suns or lesser groups. Vult is…problematic. The warehouse seemed empty, though there were bound to be more Vult mercenaries on the rooftops surrounding the complex. Doing a quick scan of the room to find it empty, he decided to gamble on pursuing Tazzik.

But where would he pursue him? Omega's dockyards were the likely endpoint, but the sprawling labyrinth of private berths and Endline-controlled docking bays was enormous, and there was no way of knowing where Tazzik was destined without hacking Endline's systems. A near impossibility, given the time constraints. He'd have to narrow the search considerably or risk losing them entirely.

He grinned as a lone mercenary came into view as he rounded the opened bay doors. He activated his micro-EMP, disabling the merc's weapons and causing them to overheat when he attempted to open fire on Bau. Panicking, the merc dropped the scalding-hot assault rifle, backing steadily up against the exterior of the sole remaining armoured vehicle – a custom-built vehicle modeled off the frame of a Turian 080 Armoured Transport. He could hear the mercenary cursing profusely as he advanced on him, his Locust pointed ominously at the mercenary's chest.

Jondum advanced until he was less than a foot away from the merc before seizing him bodily by the collarbone piece of his armour. "Talk."

"Fuck, look I-, I don't know anything. Spirits, just don't shoot me!"

Now that he was this close to him, Jondum took a moment to examine the Turian more fully. He was young – very young, scarcely more than twenty years, with facial tattoos from a colony world that had been abandoned centuries ago in the Apian Crest. And there was a fear in his eyes that set him apart from the dozen mercenaries that Jondum had already killed. Not the adrenaline-fueled fear that drove so many mercenaries forward, but a genuine, gut-wrenching fear of death that drained the colour from the Turian's eyes and caused him to tremble violently. I could break him in a matter of moments. It's just a question of how.

Jondum decided to opt for the good cop, even if only momentarily. "What's your name?"

"I-, what?"

"Your name, Turian!" Jondum tightened his grip on the merc's armour, dragging him forward until their faces were less than a half-foot apart. "What is it?"

"I-, L-, Lantar," the Turian finally managed after some difficulty. "Lantar Sidonis."

"That wasn't so difficult, was it? Tell me, Lantar, where is the convoy headed?"

"It's-, it's headed towards the docks. Endline."

Scowling, Jondum shook his head as he forcibly pushed Sidonis back against the exterior of the vehicle. "I didn't need you to tell me that." He shook him back and forth, enunciating a word each time he did. "Give. Me. A. Berth. Number."

"Seven forty three!" Sidonis blurted out.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" He looked back at Sidonis as he began to hack the armoured vehicle's controls on his omnitool. He could see the fear in his eyes, that clawing desperation to live. He's barely an adult by Turian standards. He's lost in a galaxy that has tossed him aside, and he ended up here. Just like they all do. He regarded Sidonis with a mixture of pity and resolve for a moment. "Get out of Vult. Get off Omega. Unless you want a hole in your head before you reach twenty-five. There is no future for you here – only death." Understanding seemed to dawn in the Turian's eyes, and he nodded meekly as he continued to stare at Jondum. He decided to put the young merc out of his misery, and initiated an electric shock to his system that knocked Sidonis out. With luck he finds a better path.

His target known, he turned his attention to the vehicle in front of him. A simple hack program sufficed to open the door, and he quickly entered on the driver's side. The interior was spacious – far more so than was needed for his slight frame to fit into the pilot's seat. He glanced around behind him, both to check for other mercenaries and to get his bearings. Though based on the 080 chassis, the interior had been heavily modified from the original frame. There were seats for an additional four mercenaries along the sides of the vehicle, with a large space in the middle for storing equipment that was currently occupied by an empty weapons rack.

His omnitool completed the hack of the vehicle, and he swiped the main power indicator to bring up the control console. The engine hummed to life, giving him full access to the controls. The software was broadly similar to the ground vehicles constructed by Saenika Industries on Sur'Kesh, which gave Jondum some familiarity with the handling. He called up the navigation system, punching in the coordinates of Berth 743 in the Omega dockyards. The optimized route cut across the Core Road that wound a helix up the main shaft of Omega's sprawling superstructure, through the heart of the Zheigun and Tauru Districts – both dominated by Eclipse territorial holdings. He glanced at the nav-screen again, only to discover that the computer had already produced an overlay demarcating the borders between Blue Suns, Eclipse, and Blood Pack territory on the station. Which means this is a merc vehicle. He paused for a moment, glancing out of the bulletproof window to notice the stripe of blue that ran the length of the hull. A Blue Suns vehicle. Moving through Eclipse territory. On Omega.

What's the worst that could happen?

Jondum revved the engine and brought the steering column into position. It effectively locked him in the driving seat, giving him no chance of escape if the vehicle was stranded or destroyed. He activated the kinetic barriers and gunned the throttle forward. The transport lurched forward at his touch, easily jumping the curb in front of the Storm's complex and putting him on a path through the narrow alleyways of the Zheigun District. Smiling to himself with satisfaction, he took off in pursuit of Tazzik and the stasis pod.

The transport handled poorly – its natural tendency was to veer left when the column was held steady, yet the slightest movement of the wheel would provoke a wild, pitching movement from the front wheel. In the side-lanes barely wide enough to hold it, Jondum had to concentrate entirely on just keeping the vehicle on the road. And to think that Humans complain about the Mako. This is ridiculous. If an STG vehicle handled even half this badly the manufacturer would be charged with treason! He swerved right to avoid a block of shacks at the end of the alleyway, barreling into a pile of rubble with the back end of the vehicle as he rounded the corner. No wonder they left this one behind.

Jondum cut through several more side-streets before he reached the main avenue that bisected the Zheigun District. He was now deep in the heart of Eclipse territory, and his map showed several checkpoints within a kilometre radius. He hoped that they were lightly staffed – a full-scale firefight in this vehicle would not end well – and floored the controls in the direction of the Endline dockyards. The streets were deserted this late in the night-cycle, which gave him ample room to maneuver around the rubble and refuse that lined the roads. He caught the odd glimpse of armour, but it was so ubiquitous on Omega that he paid it no mind. Few people on Omega ventured out in plainclothes – those that did were either stupid or dead.

His nav system pinged a warning as an Eclipse checkpoint came into view ahead of him. It was lightly manned – no more than four or five mercenaries, and consisted of a set of concrete barriers on either side of a retractable roadblock. He scanned the map for ways to avoid the roadblock, yet found none. If I can't then how the hell are Vult getting through on-foot? He could see the helmeted upper body of a Salarian member of Eclipse poke up from behind the concrete wall, gesturing wildly to the other mercs manning the barricade. Grimacing as he floored the pedal, he braced himself for impact with the barrier. An 080 could take the force of the impact – assuming the concrete is standard-thickness and slightly below-grade. But the retooled body of the vehicle means it's impossible to tell. Please let the front bumper hold, please let the front bumper hold...

The force of impact wasn't as jarring as he'd feared, and he felt the vehicle's radiator crash through the concrete barrier, trapping a Human member of Eclipse underneath it as Jondum moved through the barrier. One of the other mercs fired several shots at the transport, but they rang harmlessly off of the kinetic barrier. He continued past the barrier, yet quickly realized that the front-left of the vehicle's armoured bumper had been damaged by the collision with the roadblock. He could see sparks flying from where the chassis was now scraping against the wheel-hub. And here I thought steering straight in this couldn't be any more difficult.

After the barricade, the road cut towards the edge of the Zheigun District, leading away from the hub of the asteroid and into the long and winding chasm of the metal superstructure that extended out into space below the main rock face of the station. He was struck by the sparseness of the traffic. Nearly eight million people on this station and none of them out and about at this hour. Why?

His silent question answered itself moments later, as he felt a jarring impact on the right side of the transport's rear. He glanced into the reinforced side-mirror to see a grey-patterned ground vehicle approaching at a furious pace. He could make out the helmets of multiple Turians through the tinted windshield. They were bound to find me eventually. He didn't know whether this vehicle had broken off from Tazzik's main group, or whether more mercenaries had been deployed to stop him. He glanced ahead of him again. The road became ever-more winding as it approached its intersection with the Core Road that funnelled all traffic away from Omega's rocky core. There was one more Eclipse checkpoint before leaving the Zheigun District, yet Jondum thought it unlikely that the few barriers they erected would stop an adversary as determined as Vult.

Running out of road, running out of room, running out of time. No weapons against an unknown number of enemies.

Ideal.

As the Vult vehicle pulled level with him, Jondum swerved the controls to the right, crashing into the enemy vehicle with enough force to break off his right side-mirror. He could see the Turian driver glancing back at him, his face obscured by the visor of his helmet. His enemy swung further right to avoid a concrete barrier in the middle of the road, before launching his vehicle back towards Jondum's. The collision was more jarring than the first, and the merc managed to gradually push Jondum's vehicle towards the far side of the road, edging the door up against the wall of shacks that lined the street. He could see sparks flying from the side of the vehicle where it was scraping against the railing along the side of the road. He tried to push back against the enemy transport, yet the armoured truck held fast, the Turian driver veering further to the left and crushing Jondum's vehicle further into the wall. He felt himself losing control of the handling as he was pushed closer and closer to the wall. He glanced ahead, noting that the road narrowed very abruptly, and that the section he was now in quickly became a sheer wall of metal.

Ah. Less than ideal.

He glanced back at the Vult transport. The driving cab was open-top, with the windows long since either removed or shot away. That was all the invitation he needed. Drawing his Locust while keeping his right hand firmly gripped on the steering column, Jondum shot out his own window before spraying a burst at the driver of the other car. He caught him twice in the left shoulder, throwing the driver back and easing up the pressure that was keeping Jondum against the roadside. Seizing the opportunity, Jondum threw the wheel right, bringing as much force to bear as he could. Without the Turian applying pressure in the opposite direction, the Vult transport drifted to the right and began to slow down; the driver was now clearly losing a great deal of blood. Jondum floored the accelerator and cut in front of the transport, giving himself the momentary edge he needed to shake off his pursuer. As he pulled away, he turned to see the other vehicle collide with the metal wall, spinning wildly out of control before flipping on its side.

His pursuers dealt with, Jondum turned his attention back to the path in front of him. The roadway wound its way towards the Core Road, leading out of the Zheigun District and towards the top of Omega's exterior superstructure. He could see the outposts and checkpoints that marked the edge of Eclipse-held territory, and breathed a sigh of relief that the merc group's focus had been elsewhere. Checking to see that he wasn't being pursued by Eclipse or Vult, he turned onto the road that led towards the Endline docks. To Tazzik and the vital cargo he now transported.

Jondum only hoped that he wasn't too late.

Eight minutes later – Endline Corporation Dockyard

Liara tensed up as the vehicle they had stowed away in ground to a halt and cut the engine. Grimacing at the bruises accrued during the journey, she glanced at Feron, who was similarly shaken up. The way to the Endline Dockyard had been painstakingly slow, marked by bumps in the road that were as jarring as they were unpredictable. The Drell had tried to follow the pattern of their movements on their omnitool, but the interference from the armour surrounding their compartment had made it difficult; the general unpleasantness of the journey had made it impossible.

"Are we here?" Liara whispered to Feron as they heard the sound of armoured doors opening and booted feet touching ground outside of their compartment.

Feron nodded, then made a swift cutting motion in front of his mouth. "Too many outside" he mouthed to her in the dim light of his omnitool, "I'll try to track their movements."

Liara's hearing perked up at the voices outside. They were nearly all Turian-sounding, shouting orders to more distant voices in an incomprehensible dialect. Beside her, Feron pulled up a scan of the surrounding area on his omnitool, picking up the heartbeats of everyone in the vicinity. There were five blips on the sparse map that registered as unfamiliar, with the twin dots of Liara and Feron concentrated in the middle. The dots indicating Vult mercenaries gradually dispersed beyond the scanner's range, leaving Liara and Feron alone in the cramped storage compartment of the vehicle.

"Now what?" Liara asked with an irritated tone in her voice.

"Now we get out of here and find out what's going on."

Feron opened the door to the compartment and sent him and Liara tumbling to the ground. Glancing towards the rock face a hundred feet above them, Liara took a moment to get her bearings. They were back in the Endline dockyards, with the company's marketing and logo sticking out like a sore thumb on nearly every wall that she could see. The docks were located where the vast, artificial superstructure of the lower station met the rock face of the asteroid itself, and the light of the Endline logos cast a strange orange glow across the low-hanging rock faces. Docking berths stretched as far as she could see, with every conceivable range of size and scope. Some were entirely open-air, their vessels resting on the floor of the docks with open cargo bays. Others offered greater privacy, with docking cradles that led to closed-off gates for boarding or leaving the craft. When she had arrived on Omega, the docks had been abuzz with activity, yet the now seemed deserted. She suspected that the arrival of Vult's convoy had played a role.

"Where is Tazzik's ship?"

"There." Feron pointed to a docking berth three further over, where another two Vult transports had parked beside a sleek personal shuttle. No more than fifty feet in length, the design was elegant, with yellow-patterned armour plating swooping down to cover the cockpit above a front set of thrusters. The wide-bodied front of the ship rested atop a large, detachable cargo compartment before the rear of the ship narrowed into a set of stabilizing fins behind the rear set of steering jets. The white-patterned hull was punctuated by flecks of a deep yellow, with no other identifying markings to speak of.

"That?" Liara thought that the elegance of the vessel suited the right hand of the Shadow Broker, yet it seemed too diminuitive for such an important operative. "Seems small."

"People in my line of work don't like to announce their arrival to the world." He pointed to where Tazzik's mercenaries had unloaded Shepard's stasis pod from the transport, with a single ramped door opening at the base of the Salarian's vessel, "and as you can see, it suits his needs just fine."

Liara felt her skin burn as a wave of rage crept over her. "We've got to get down there!"

"Are you mad?!" Feron wheeled to face her. "It's too risky! There's got to be another way."

"No." Liara clenched her fist into a ball, producing a small halo of biotic power around it as she did. "We're running out of time, and I'm notgiving you another time to decide if it's worth selling me out!"

Feron glanced around desperately before his eyes settled on a point behind her and to her right. "There. See those defense guns?" Liara looked behind her to where a lone antiship cannon was perched above them, surveying the dockyards as traffic came and went. It looked ancient – like it hadn't seen action in years.

"Goddess, does that thing still work?"

"It should – I think they're still functional. One shot can disable Tazzik's ship before he can leave."

"And then what?"

"We take our chances. Hope that whatever – or whoever – else is after Tazzik catches up or that they're disorganized enough for us to take them."

It was risky, and it meant trusting Feron more than she would have liked, but they had no other choice. "Do it." Feron nodded to Liara as she drew her pistol. "I'm going to try and get closer."

Liara moved to the catwalk that connected the docking berths together, careful to watch for any Vult soldiers that might be watching from the levels above her. Tazzik and the mercenaries next to his vessel were focused on maneuvering the cumbersome stasis pod into the cargo compartment – the pod looked heavy, and entirely too large to fit into Tazzik's ship without considerable effort being exerted. As she shuffled down the steps of the catwalk and towards her target, she heard an audible crash followed by indecipherable cursing.

"Careful, you idiot!" the stress in Tazzik's voice was clearly discernible. Liara ducked behind a stack of crates at the entrance to the docking berth, craning her neck to see what was happening on Tazzik's ship. "Just get the pod onto my ship. We don't have much time!"

"It's not like the corpse can get any more damaged," Liara heard one of the Vult mercs mutter over their comms unit.

"No, but you might," Tazzik responded menacingly. "Get this done with."

Liara was about to leap from cover when she was momentarily blinded by the muzzle flash from the gun emplacement that Feron had commandeered. The blast struck the four-foot barrier immediately in front of Tazzik's ship, throwing a half-dozen Vult mercenaries off their feet and blinding everyone in the vicinity. Her ears ringing, Liara struggled to lift herself against the crate, finally hooking one elbow over it and pulling herself to a standing position.

As her vision cleared, Liara could see the Vult soldiers in front of her firing at the gun emplacement, while Tazzik sealed the door to his ship's cargo hold. Her head still throbbing from the noise of the shot, Liara leapt from cover and pointed her weapon directly at the massive Salarian in front of her.

"Don't move!" She shifted her aim momentarily to the Vult mercenary nearest her, before moving her weapon back towards Tazzik as the Salarian turned to face her. "That cargo is mine!"

Tazzik regarded her curiously, drawing his massive frame to its full height as he stepped away from the door controls on his cargo hold. Liara watched as the door slowly began to close, the stasis pod containing Shepard's remains clearly inside. "I have no time for this." He moved to the left, Liara's aim following him as he moved towards the fuselage of the shuttle. Tazzik glanced at the seven mercenaries at the edge of the platform – themselves now regaining their bearings. "Kill her."

Liara reacted quicker than she'd thought possible, trapping two of the mercs in a stasis field and rolling back behind the crates as the other five opened fire. Raising her biotic barrier, she leaned out from behind cover and snapped out three shots from her pistol, dropping the first mercenary to the ground. Reaching out with her biotics, she ensnared another in a pull field before violently tossing him off of the raised docking platform. She could see two of the mercs advancing to her right to try and flank her, and she flash-stepped sideways to avoid the stream of rifle-fire aimed at where she had been standing moments before. Her movement caught the two mercenaries off-guard, and she aimed a biotically-charged fist at the one nearest her. The Turian crumpled to the floor, where Liara quickly fired a shot from her pistol into the mercenary's skull. Turning her attention to the other, Liara quickly trapped the mercenary in another pull field, lifting bodily off of the ground with the force of her biotics. As he struggled against her, Liara tightened her grip into a clenched fist, using her biotics to slowly crush the life out of her enemy. She heard the mercenary's bones begin to snap under the force of her biotics, and she dropped the pull field as she heard the sound of bullets whizzing past her. She turned to see the last three mercenaries standing between her and the cargo-door that contained Shepard's stasis pod.

The gunfire sapped her shields rapidly, and Liara was forced to duck back behind cover, throwing herself behind an unmarked crate that stood to her left. She listened for patterns in the gunfire streaming over her head, yet found none that were discernible. She waited for her shields to recharge, yet the process was agonizingly slow. She could hear the engines on Tazzik's shuttle beginning to come online, as the drive core hummed to life amidst the din of gunfire and shouted orders.

Not now. Not when I'm this close.

"Feron! What are you doing?!" She silently begged for a response on the other end of the comms line – anything to assure her that her attempt to retrieve Shepard's body wasn't dead and buried.

"Guns jammed after the first shot! Nearly have it fixe-, there we go!"

Liara was momentarily dazed by a blinding flash of light in the periphery of her vision, as the turret emplacement rang out another deafening blast. She couldn't see anything, couldn't hear anything beyond a piercing ringing that drowned out everything around her. She fumbled along the ground, grasping blindly for her pistol. Slowly, her hearing returned, and she became aware of the roar of a shuttle's engines behind her, of the squealing of tires in front of her. She could feel the heat of the engines as Tazzik's ship prepared to depart, and she silently cursed herself – for having trusted Feron, for having failed Shepard, for having failed herself. Her vision swam as she struggled to get to her feet, and the lines of colour began to return to her. As she brought herself to a crouch, she became aware of a figure running past her – clad in armour of black and gold, a weapon drawn.

A Salarian.

Two minutes earlier

Nothing ever goes according to plan, does it?

Jondum threw the vehicle's steering column to the left as he swerved to avoid a parked aircar beside one of the docking berths. His pursuit of Tazzik had gone well – too well, it seemed. Within sight of the Endline dockyards, he'd been set upon by several outposts of Vult mercenaries, and the transport had barely survived the barrage of rockets that had struck all around him. Even now, he could feel the rear of the transport grinding against the road where the back-left tire had collapsed. The engine had begun to smoke, obscuring his vision of the road as he barreled forward through the docks.

Seven-four-three, seven-four-three. Just find the goddamned berth before this thing explodes. The numbers on the docking berths were a blur as he sped past them, the nav-point of his destination barrelling into view on the transport's barely-functioning computer. Turning a corner, he found himself at the edge of a long, narrow corridor of docking berths. The roadway was devoid of people, an odd sight for a zone so used to the overcrowded bustling of pilots, mercenaries, and passengers from every corner of the Terminus Systems. Strange. What could possibly clear out so many people?

The answer became abundantly clear as he hurtled further down the traffic corridor. Even over the grating sound of the transport grinding against the pavement, he could discern the noise of gunfire in the distance. His gaze was drawn to the gun emplacement that loomed over the rows of docking bays, and he averted his gaze as he saw another muzzle flash, then heard a deafening explosion as the shot struck against the side of a berth no more than a hundred metres in front of him. As the smoke cleared, he could see several figures locked in a deadly melee of gunfire and biotics.

Seven-four-three. That's it then.

He watched as a lone Asari used her biotics to lift one of her assailants into the air before crushing the life out of him as shots whizzed around her. As he rounded the final corner, he caught his first glimpse of Tazzik's shuttle. You've upgraded, old friend. He could see the catwalk that ran along the edge of the docking berths laid out in front of him, and shifted the steering column in order to slow down his transport.

Nothing happened.

He tried again, shifting the column in the other direction. Nothing.

Not good.

He glanced up from the dashboard, suddenly becoming aware of the sheer drop-off that he was approaching at an uncomfortably fast pace.

Not good at all.

In desperation, Jondum activated the sole remaining set of brakes on the front-left wheel, hoping that, combined with the drag from the rear of the vehicle, he would be able to skid to a halt before the drop. The brakes kicked in without warning, sending the vehicle into a spin, and Jondum was thrown bodily against the door. The front of the transport began to drift left, with the drop getting closer as the vehicle slowed at a painfully languid pace. Cursing to himself, Jondum waited for the spin to level off slightly, keeping his eye fixed on the docking berth that was now almost directly in front of him. The skid eventually settled on a curve that was diagonal to the drop-off and the docking berth, giving Jondum all that he needed. Moving rapidly, he shot out the hinges of the passenger-side door, before throwing himself bodily from the vehicle as it approached the edge of the roadway. He rolled out, hitting the pavement hard and sprawling across the ground as the transport tumbled over the edge of the drop and down onto whatever lay a hundred feet below.

Getting to his feet, he vaulted the railing nearest him and landed on the catwalk that led to the docking berth, where Tazzik's shuttle was rapidly warming up its engines in preparation for takeoff. In front of him, Jondum could see Liara T'Soni sprawled out on all fours, her vision clearly rolling from the impact flash of the defense guns. Feron was nowhere in sight, though Jondum suspected that the gun emplacement was his doing. Two Vult mercenaries remained on the landing platform, both reeling from the shot's blast. As he climbed the stairs past Liara, she became vaguely aware of his presence as her vision returned. Paying little attention to her, Jondum drew his Paladin and quickly downed both of the remaining mercenaries. The sound of the shots was drowned out by the roar of the shuttle's engines, and Jondum silently fumed as Tazzik's vessel lifted off from the docking bay. Tapping a compartment on the right thigh of his armour, Jondum retrieved a small electronic orb and, taking aim, threw it with all his strength at Tazzik's shuttle. The orb connected with a panel in front of the rear engine mounts, and Jondum smiled grimly as the shuttle roared away from the Endline docks, and from Omega – with Commander Shepard's remains aboard.

Liara heard the roar of the engines as Jondum Bau walked past her, her senses returning to her as she recognized the Spectre in front of her. What was the Salarian doing here? The black and gold armour was unmistakeable, but she did a double-take to see that it really was Bau. Sure enough, she caught a glimpse of the Salarian Spectre hurtling a small disk-shaped item at Tazzik's shuttle as it jetted away from Omega. She followed the shuttle's course as it quickly disappeared into the darkness that surrounded the space station.

Jondum sighed – a sigh that seemed to reach deep into his bones – and turned towards Liara, offering her a hand to help her up. "Dr. T'Soni," he said simply, "I'm sorry."

She took his hand and lifted herself up off the ground, staring out into space for a moment as the dust kicked up by the shuttle settled around her. So that was it. Tazzik was gone – and Shepard's body along with him; gone to some unknown place where it was sure to be handed off to the Collectors. Her shoulders drooped as she beheld the enormity of her failure, her weapon lowered meekly to her side as she stared out into the void in front of her.

She heard the sound of booted feet against the catwalk and turned to see Feron stumbling onto the docking berth from above. Her pain turned to boiling fury in an instant. You bastard, she thought to herself as a Drell approached. Curling her lip in a snarl, she reached out with her biotics, emitting a shriek of rage as she trapped Feron in a biotic field.

"YOU!" She took a step towards the Drell as she tightened her grip slightly, causing Feron to shift uncomfortably as the biotic field closed around him. "How could you be so incompetent, Feron?" She tightened her biotic grip again, dropping her weapon and reaching out to grab the collar of Feron's armour with her other hand. "You let him get away! With Shepard! SHEPARD! You could have shot and you didn't!" She forced him back along the catwalk, "I feared that you'd turn back to the Shadow Broker, but you always were, weren't you?"

"I never stopped working for him, as far as he knows," Feron pleaded desperately. "But I swear to you that I didn't miss deliberately! The gun misfired while I was lining up the shot!"

"A plausible outcome," Jondum noted behind her. "Old gun emplacement – probably not well maintained, certainly not invested in by a company keen to cut costs. Control circuits could have easily malfunctioned when he tried to fire."

Liara dropped the biotic field and turned to face Jondum. "And you! What are you doing here, Bau?" She stabbed an accusing finger at the Salarian. "Is the Council trying to track me? Or are you with Cerberus?"

"Neither," he responded simply. "I told you on the Citadel that we shared a common interest. I am ensuring that it is done." He took a step towards her, holstering his weapon as he did so. "I promised you that you would not be alone in this hunt."

Liara's mind went back to the entrance to Afterlife, to the message she had received when she had nearly been barred entry. "The pass-phrase," she suddenly realized. "That was you."

"Indeed," Jondum nodded. "As was the fight with the Blue Suns, and the disturbance at the complex where the exchange took place."

"But why?"

"Because I don't want Shepard's body to end up in the wrong hands any more than you do." He gestured at Feron, who had recovered from Liara's biotic grip to stand behind her. "Neither, I suspect, does he."

Liara turned back to Feron, who was dusting himself off with a look of terror in his eyes. She flared her biotics around her in a corona of light as she stared him straight in the eyes. "Start talking."

"No, Doctor T'Soni, I don't want Shepard's body going to the Collectors."

"Then what is your stake in all this?"

"It's…complicated, but you can trust me on that point. Now, unless you want to do to me what you did to that poor fellow," he gestured to the pile of crushed armour and bones near Liara's feet, "I suggest that we get moving. We don't have much time."

"No, we don't," Jondum nodded in agreement. "Tazzik will be through the Mass Relay inside of ten minutes. I've placed a tracking device on his shuttle, but we only have so much time before he either finds it or scrubs the signal. Once that happens, it's guesswork as to where the final exchange with the Collectors will take place."

"We'll need a ship," Liara observed, "and one with a captain that won't ask questions." She glanced at Jondum, "I don't suppose that you…"

The Salarian shook his head. "Hitched a ride with an STG team." Bau turned to Feron, who was staring rather uncomfortably at the floor. "But he has a ship, don't you Feron."

The Drell scowled before nodding. "I do. The Plain Dealer. It's in the adjacent docking terminal," he grimaced as he looked at Liara and Jondum, "but it's small. Really small."

"We'll fit," Liara said simply.

Feron looked back and forth between them, his eyes pleading for some alternative. Seeing none, he relented.

"Fine. Follow me."