Disclaimer available on first chapter, and congrats to my 100th story favorite, Dark Blazing Death and my 300th follower, Dovahkiin1503. Wicken25, you're onto something there.

The former Cerberus agent maneuvered her ship closer and closer to the grey gas giant, circling around its moon to distort its exhaust trails. She had long forgotten the name of the planet, this dull orb sunk deep within her memories.

The miners had given it names, but none of them stuck— all it was was a forgotten piece of dirt, hidden in a dark corner of the galaxy. Not even the Illusive Man was aware of it. In Rasa's desperate flight through Alliance space, the hounds of hell hot on her heels, she had remembered and recovered this little of her childhood. It seemed right to return home.

There was a lonely miner settlement in the north hemisphere. Unlike the rest of the planet, it had mediocre levels of palladium. Enough for investment from a small mining company. That was where she would find refuge.

She activated the secondary thrusters and manually steered the ship down through the atmosphere. Rasa had removed her dependence on navigation VI a long time ago. Dependence meant weakness. If a VI ever turned on the pilot, they would be helpless. But not her.

. .

"Dammit!" the old man swore, kicking the blocky car, "Dirty old useless piece of trash."

That pair of engines had been with him for over twenty years. Now it finally had enough, breaking down in the middle of one of their trips.

The VI flickered.

This ship has damaged exhaust ports. It repeated, Please replace your exhaust ports before starting the thrusters.

The man gave it another kick. The VI fell silent.

He looked down.

"Well, kid, I guess we're stuck here."

. .

It only took half an hour for Rasa to make her way down to what was once a respected settlement. It pleased her to see the deserted state of the camp. If there were still life inside, old miners who would still remember the strange child that used to work there...

The structural supports holding up the sole facility against the rocky planet's winds were dense, but now they have started corroding under the unceasing onslaught. Rasa could only marvel at the faithfulness in which the building served its duty, even with its owners gone for years. It was nothing like the fickle bonds humans made with one another.

. .

"His eye?! You little idiot! What were you thinking?!"

"...I was scared..."

"You left him alive... he's going to tell everybody about you... he's probably doing it right now... they're going to arrest and fine us... I'm never going find work anywhere else... I'm never going to get off this god-forsaken planet- You useless piece of trash! You just fucking ruined decades of my work!"

"Wha- it wasn't my fault! I didn't want to hurt him!"

"If we're found out, you pay for this big time, hear me?"

"I'm sorry! I swear I won't do it again!"

"I don't care for your sorry, stupid bitch!"

. .

Rasa hacked open the main computer and walked inside, the rock walkways crumbling underneath her heels. Metal railings browned. The colorful signs that illuminated building fronts, removed. Doors, chained closed permanently. Thankfully, the basic power still could kick back on.

She passed lines of rooms, all filled with lockers. Scans showed them empty except for a few old, old bloodstains. The place where she spilled her first blood.

It had been such a futile venture. Rasa made more money on a single mission than she could make in a decade of mining. The labor and toil that they did for nothing... All the profits stolen by the incompetent, corrupt overseers. What a cruel world for them.

In front of the building at the very end, she unsealed the entrance and made her way inside.

. .

"You're telling me somebody died just an hour ago? Brockturn?"

"We found him with his own barber knife stuck in his chest, sir. Certainly dead."

"Murder!?"

"Yes. It was that little boy that was always with him. We have him in custody right now."

"The little boy! Is that even possible?"

"The evidence is quite clear, Mr. Goldman. He even assaulted another miner beforehand."

"I've never heard of anything like this happening at the other operations... this isn't good. You have the lad? Bring him over here to clear things up."

"Yessir."

"What a shame. He was a respectable man."

. .

A few rooms comprised the central operations office.

An old datapad belonging to the last manager in charge laid on the nearest desk. Documents of what led to the facility shutdown, and directions in case it would ever be needed again.

Its interior was a mess. Somebody had searched the room clumsily. Drawers opened, desks upturned— looters. Besides the first though, the rooms were completely bare.

The level underneath the office was a briefing room. But it sometimes doubled for interrogation. The one underneath that was the detention center.

Rasa turned around and left. There was nothing in there of her interest.

She needed to return to her ship. She had spent enough time reminiscing as it was.

. .

"There's nothing left for me here. I have no family, no future. Take me with you. Anywhere. I don't care, as long as it's not here."

The woman in front of her paused, and turned around.

"...Do you know why I work alone?"

"You don't like people?"

"It's because they can't be trusted. If I brought you with me, someday you'll betray me, intentionally or not. Somebody will use you against me."

"Why?"

The woman crouched down, patting her shoulder.

"That's just life. And that's why it's always best to trust nobody but yourself."

"...I just want a ride. That's all I'm asking."

"You're a resourceful kid. I believe you can find another way off this rock. Without me."

Rasa bowed her head, her hands reaching behind her back.

"...Goodbye."

"Good luck, boy."

. .

"Unidentified female human colonist found dead, ship stolen. Themis authorities unclear on what transpired."

. .

Behind a stack of cargo, in the bowels of her stolen freighter, a wrath of cables tethered new life to a tank. Rasa wasted no time returning to the new object of her obsession. The reason why she had risked her life in deserting Cerberus.

The biometric scans told her the subject was functioning well. She was dreaming innocently, in thoughts and worlds beyond Rasa's comprehension. Not even once in their journey here, had she woken up. For all intents and purposes, the woman inside the tank was a unborn fetus. An unborn clone.

Commander Shepard's unborn clone.

Rasa stepped up to put her hand against the glass, gazing upon the form of the clone, now her clone, with longing. Oblivious, the subject's limbs drifted aimlessly in the fluid in continued slumber.

"A long time ago somebody told me that people can't be trusted." Her eyes searched the face of the clone. "That they'll betray you the first chance that they get."

Footsteps.

"She was right." Someone said behind her. There was muffled gunshot and Rasa's body spasmed— first from surprise, second from pain.

She coughed up bloody spittle and slid slowly down the tank's side, head thudding against the metal bottom. A single shot that punctured her shields like it was air— that was the power of the Harpy, a heavily modded Cerberus-made pistol. Rasa was very well acquainted with the gun. It was a favored instrument among the highest tiers of Cerberus's black ops.

The slow footsteps approached. A gloved hand took her shoulder and rolled her over.

"You heard me coming. Why didn't you roll to the side?" The older woman asked, crouching face-to-face. Her's was concealed by a dark, nondescript helmet.

Rasa coughed more, lips stained red.

"I couldn't have risked it." She tapped her fingers against the tank. "It would've penetrated the tank, killed her. But... you. How did you find me? I was sure nobody followed me..."

"I didn't. We knew you would come here, and so I waited. You thought this place was safe? No one escapes from Cerberus. You should have known that."

The Cerberus assassin stood up again, fingering the pistol.

"Now one more question, before you die. Why? Why steal the clone?"

"Why her?" A ragged breath. "I couldn't have left her with Cerberus. They were going to throw her out— they had no use for another Shepard. She had so much potential. So innocent. It reminded me what I was like long ago."

"I was going to train her, to trust her. She was going to be different from everyone else. We were going to go places." The injured woman tilted her head sideways. "She needs a purpose..."

"Absolutely." Rasa's head shot up in surprise.

Then the pistol spat again and her head fell backwards. "it's exactly why she wasn't left to you."

In practiced motions, Rasa's assassin removed her target's working omnitool and secondary omnitool, before double-checking the pulse. She was throughly dead.

Her personal omnitool's data, what little of Rasa's thoughts, memories and records that she had managed to discover, slowly expunged itself. And the world forgot that a person of her name ever existed.

Work finished, the assassin holstered her pistol and stood up, now gazing on the tank-born, still floating serenely in the tank.

"Oh, you have no idea what plans we have for her..."

. .

From: Canis Major

To: Canis Minor

Message: Rasa terminated.

The leader of Cerberus smoked his cigarette thoughtfully as he contemplated the haptic interface in front of him. The lines on the screen scrolled past swiftly, leaving no time for anybody to get a good look at the data. Even if someone caught a line, it would be useless to them, the data coded into undecipherable hieroglyphs. Remnants left of a vanished race. But the Illusive Man seemed to have no problem reading it, his electric-blue irises darting side to side.

A feminine voice chimed.

"You have an incoming transmission, sir."

He closed the stream of data and removed the cigarette for a second to give his affirmation.

"Patching it through."

Immediately, the form of another sitting man emerged on the holographic pad behind the desk. He sported a tan suit, a short boxed beard and a crop of graying but still blond hair on his head— rarity, these days. The Illusive Man swiveled around, the orb of light behind him heightening his silhouette.

"Jack, old friend! It's already been some time since our last talk. Time flies when busy, does it not?"

"Yes it does, Roth." Jack replied. "I understand your feelings entirely. Running an organization of this importance is not done casually, I assure you."

Roth nodded. "I trust you have more than enough on your hands... Speaking of your work, how goes your most ambitious project? Hopefully not for much longer... My employees notice when billions of credits suddenly disappear. It shows an inexplicable absence, yes?" He chuckled a little. "Even with someone as talented as my secretary."

"I didn't mean to cause you trouble, Roth. Please offer Dr. Eva my apologies." Jack turned his head to read from his console. "As for Project Lazarus, it's doing well. Very well. From the estimates, there will be only a month left until its completion."

"Hm. You always had a knack for project names. Good to hear, Jack." Roth replied. "In that case, I am ahead of you."

"Oh?"

The business magnate waved a hand to the side, holographic pad forming the diagram of a ship. Jack considered its shape with admiration. The ship's arcing back and sharp teeth was reminiscent of a leaping swordfish.

"Your ship is being constructed ahead schedule. By now, even I can see it's going to be a true beauty." Roth chuckled and tapped the holograph, which enlarged and covered with plating. On the sleek skin blazed a Cerberus logo. "The Normandy SR-2 will be space-worthy in a week. Those turians may be hard-asses, but no one can argue with their ship designs. I can't wait to see it launched."

"You and me both, Roth." Jack tilted his head away from the image to pick a glass from the side of his chair. "I doubt Commander Shepard will find her new ship lacking."

"But let us move onto more urgent matters. Has there been any word on the missing colonies? I understand the Alliance sent personnel to the planet Ferris Fields some time ago."

Roth's smile disappeared. Skin creased into lines on his face.

"Indeed. The Roanoke issue, it has been christened. But the report submitted by Alliance has been whitewashed, before shelved by the Security Council." He gestured again, and a hologram of the dusty green planet replaced the previous, followed by three others. "I will send you a report I obtained. Nearly two hundred thousand colonists are missing. The total body count reaches over five hundred thousand. And our unknown alien is still lurking in the Terminus Systems, looking for more. It seems that we are left in a position helpless to take action..."

Jack bent the spent cigarette underneath his fingers, putting it into an ash tray on his multi-purpose chair. Roth watched on grimly as his compatriot pulled out another one and ignited it automatically.

"Not unknown to me, Roth." Jack said. "Cerberus suspects that the aliens behind the abductions are Collectors, an insectoid race originating beyond the Omega 4 Relay."

"That makes things more difficult." The German rubbed his chin. "What we need is a strike on their homeworld, to send a message of force. But travelling through the Omega 4 Relay will be a suicide mission."

"No worries, Roth. I have just the person for that." Jack smiled, eyes dark. "It will be a fitting message to be delivered by Cerberus."

. .

The system's heavy sun sat upon the jagged half-hulls of ancient, dead ships. The tarnished, peeling plates sank ruinously into the reddish muddy soil.

A heavy-built alien knelt down on one dusty knee to inspect a bloodied body lying underneath a ship's brow, a rising sun painted at the center of soldier's blue chestplate. The planet's greenhouse atmosphere sweltered the krogan warlord with immense heat, but he paid it no mind. Korlus was nothing compared to Tuchanka.

The mercenary was unresponsive, so the krogan slapped the shoulder to get the merc awake. Groaning, the Blue Sun soldier reached up and detached his helmet. A human.

"Damn krogans. It feels like I'm just wasting heat sinks shooting at the hulks." He put a hand on his head, squinting at the warlord in the dull light. The merc's eyes were unfocused and a trail of blood flowed down his head.

The krogan snorted and brushed his hands off. "Your complaints only further prove the tenacity of my creations, weakling."

Eyes filled with horror as the human looked up into the scarred face.

"Shit, shit!" He groped for his gun, but it was lying meters away and he was in no position to get it. "Shit— no, Okeer?"

Okeer grunted, reaching behind his back for a stasis container. "Who were you expecting? Your friends?" He gestured to the bodies that laid around the position. "Your cowardly commander? Pah!"

He set it down carefully, wiping the metallic dust off and twisting the lid open. Inside, the liquid sploshed and objects bumped against the sides.

"Oh thank goodness. If it was another crazy I would've been done for." The merc leaned his head back. "What are you doing out here? Jedore said..."

The warlord barked a laugh at the sound of the name while he detached the armor from his wrists. He stretched his blackened fingers and then curled them into a fist, grunting in satisfaction.

"That human is a fool if she thinks she is worthy enough to command me." Okeer turned back to the downed human. "There are peculiar... things, found out here on a battleground, that won't be anywhere else. They are necessary for me to finish my project."

The merc only looked confused.

"Things? What things?"

Okeer pulled back a clawed hand and violently plunged it into the center of the armor's painted sun. The merc gave up a choked gasp, before slumping.

"Ingredients."

Standing up, Okeer backed away from the corpse and dropped the bleeding heart into the cylindrical canister with a splash. It was now just another body among the many littering the compound's perimeters, shelters and trenches fashioned from decrepit wreckage. The scientist smiled at the familiar smell and dark rivulets that ran down his arm. In the glorious days he would have enough to bath in it. Now he had no choice but to starve his bloodlust.

The krogan pulled up his gloves and picked up his container. Okeer made it barely a meter before the dead merc's radio suddenly came to life.

"—Ivanov! Do you read me? The right flank has been overrun by the krogan. We're sending a squad to reinforce your defenses. What's the status of your position? Ivan? Ivan!"

There was a snap and crackle as Okeer pressed his foot down to crush the transmitter. He surveyed the surroundings with a keen eye, before disappearing into a sea of rust. When the reinforcements arrived, all they would find would be a field of dead bodies.

. .

For such an old krogan, he moved fast. His time in this pit of a planet had left him bereft of the intimidating mass he used to possess, allowing Okeer to traverse through Blue Sun lines swiftly, unnoticed. But that hardly mattered. His physicality was not what had first made him the warlord he was among his kind.

"Rana!" He barked as he clanked his way up to the research lab. The doors depressurized and opened. "Have you produced any results on synthesizing a second—"

"Okeer! There you are." The irritating human called out, hands on her hips. Behind her, Rana shrugged helplessly in apology.

"Human." Okeer growled. "I am busy with work. Either speak your mind, or leave us."

The mercenary leader snorted, ignoring his demand. Such arrogance! But alas, Okeer still had use for her for a while longer.

"What I want to know is where the hell have you been? I didn't take you for the type to abandon your poor assistant and side project for farseeing. Not that there's much to see out there."

"I have abandoned nothing. Data collection is key to my work in improving the krogan. Even the slightest deviation in their creation will differ end results. Only under truly unforgiving conditions— the trials of combat— will I understand the complete extent of their capabilities."

He walked over to a bench and placed down his container.

"And what's that you're holding over there? Scavenging now?" Okeer blinked in irritation at her curiosity.

"It is the final step needed in creating the perfect krogan soldier."

Jedore's interest was only further piqued.

"Well, Warlord? What does it do?"

Okeer waved his hand dismissively at her.

"For you? Nothing. It is part of an ancient Krogan tradition... not something an outsider can grasp. Perhaps if you are lucky, you will see the results, in time."

"Heh. Whatever. Just don't forget when the next row of tanks are due. You won't like it if you're absent the next time I come to collect."

Back turned, Okeer merely replied with a grunt. Jedore walked out, looking annoyed.

Rana approached the old krogan, blue face blinking apologetically.

"I'm sorry. Jedore just came in. She's getting more impatient every waiting day."

He shook his head in disappointment. Rana knew the sensitivity of their equipment as well as he did. And she still let the humans fool loiter around inside their lab? What did it take to get good help these days?

"Asari, so weak-willed. Have you synthesized a second tube?"

"Er... I'm having trouble implementing the collector tech. They don't seem to work as before. I think we may have damaged it in some way."

Okeer paused, musing. That was impossible- he did not miss any crucial step in activating the first template- so it left only one real possibility: sabotage. And done by the Collectors themselves, no less.

"What strange systems they function on... so advanced, yet so primitive." He came to a hard decision. "However, it is ultimately... irrelevant. You may abandon your current efforts, Rana. We must focus on the primary subject, and make it perfect. Destroy what remains of the device I received from them."

"Wha-Why?"

"Even you can see that we have little time left in this facility. Jedore presents an imminent threat to my progress. I've secured passage off-world, but I must finish and dispose of all my research before leaving. We will leave behind nothing for these idiotic mercs."

She looked doubtfully over her shoulder at the growing tank behind her.

"If you say so. I just hope we'll be able to grow him in time."