Author's Note: When writing this story, the first name of Commander Shepard has been deliberately omitted, as I have found the fastest way to pull me out of my immersion is to read a name that is definitely NOT "my" Shepard's name. Contains a Spacer/War Hero Fem!Shep who took no lover in ME1and decided to test her "flexibility" with Garrus in ME2. If the interspecies thing gives you the icks then go no further, there are many other fantastic Mass Effect fan-fictions out there.

Disclaimer: No characters in the following fan-fiction belong to the authoress, but instead belong to Bioware or their prospective owners. The authoress takes no responsibility to any relation to anything, living or dead, as it is purely coincidental.

Chapter One: Departure

Way-point: n. 1. In air operations, a point or a series of points in space to which an aircraft, ship, or cruise missile may be vectored. 2. A designated point or series of points loaded and stored in a global positioning system or other electronic navigational aid system to facilitate movement

"Come."

As the door opened, Garrus Vakarian paused to allow for his eyes to adjust to the dark. The dish Gardner had prepared for the Commander smelled wretched to him- but then, so did most human food and he repressed his distaste with years of practice. The ship's cook had become rather sharp with him before demanding Garrus drop what he had been doing and take dinner to the captain. The entire crew was strangely protective of their leader and her continued absence had been hell on the ship's morale. The light from the fish tanks gave off a cold glow, though Kelly had once mentioned in passing that many humans found the sound of running water reassuring. He hoped it was true for Shepard, because he knew that she never took vacations. An outsider might have suggested the Commander was having a nervous breakdown or perhaps considering a dereliction of her duty. More fools they.

"Thanks, Garrus" Commander Shepard rasped at him, her voice thick from disuse, "Please put it next to the bed." One hand waved absently toward one of the two short tables- which were currently covered in paper drawings and notes. She was huddled in one corner of the bed, which had received a similar treatment. If anything, the side tables had gotten off easy.

"Shepard . . ." he rumbled in his best "father says so" voice, "Gardner has promised to make both sides of my face match if his carefully prepared dinner for you goes cold again. And I think EDI might just give him access to the Hammerhead to do it."

"Damn." She paused long enough to pinch the bridge of her nose between those pale, fragile looking digits and rub for a few seconds. "I guess I can stop for a while." She slowly unfolded her legs and slid off the edge of the bed, part of one cheek darkened by the carbon stick she had been holding. Like many Turians, Garrus found the position uncomfortable to look at- his leg knobs would not let him sit that way.

While she stretched and then moved into her bathroom to rinse her hands, Garrus looked over some of her drawings out of habit. Usually Shepard's notes were incomprehensible; at least to people who were not Shepard, but the sheet thrown over the lamp was a passable sketch of "Sovereign" with possible weak points and speculative "best weaponry" against each. "You do remember you have a desk right?" he called over one shoulder.

Her laughter was muffled though the door and miniature ship display case. "I have two in fact."

"And you are using the bed because?"

"Tablet's still broken." The ship had taken massive damage in the assault on the Omega 4 Relay, breaking any number of things in the chaos that followed. Her personal tablet was among the "lost" and it was not exactly priority one for devoting their scarce resources for repair. Only her oldest squad mates had any inkling of how important that tablet was to her, but they also knew her well enough to not say anything to the rest of the crew. Shepard would not thank them for it- the needs of the mission and ship came first. Although, he wondered if EDI had said something to the engineers- he had thought he saw Donnelly working on something in the crew's quarters in his small pools of spare time. She re-emerged, drying her hands absently, and clucked her tongue at him for staring. "Why do you think I keep the newsprint and the charcoal? That stuff never runs out of batteries."

"And gets everywhere besides" Garrus retorted before gently pushing the bowl into her hands as she walked by. "Eat."

Commander Shepard made a point of walking regular rounds with her crew, getting to know them, and figuring out what made them tick. Non-humans, she found, made this especially important. Humanity had been getting into trouble from the dawn of their existence because it was natural to assume one person's "ways" were exactly the same as their own. Her own species could not even manage to have the genders communicate without misunderstandings, much less people who weren't human. The tank-bred krogen "Grunt" was one of her crew she kept an especially close eye on.

"Shepard." He greeted as she entered the cargo bay that was 'his'.

"Grunt," Shepard paced slightly before addressing the adolescent krogan. "Have our enemies been worthy?"

"Battle Master-" Grunt seemed to struggle to find the words he wanted, "they far outstrip what Okeer showed me about Rachni. Our clan is strong. Our enemies are strong. I am content." Grunt shifted his weight from one foot to another.

Shepard smiled and mimicked Grunt's body language. Having Wrex on the first Normandy had been a blessing in any number of ways. At that particular moment she knew she was thankful that she'd studied Wrex's motions and stances and knew when and how to adopt them. Grunt may have been tank-bred, but what Okeer had used to educated the young krogan before his "birth" had been HIS species way of looking at the universe in general. "Content?" she countered, "But not stimulated?" The krogan ground his teeth audibly; normal for him when Grunt did not want to show her that she'd touched a nerve. "Has it occurred to you to become a Battle Master yourself?"

Grunt snorted. "I am strong. What would I become if I am already strong?"

EDI chimed over the Normandy's speakers "Commander Shepard?"

"Yes, EDI?"

"We will be arriving at Omega in approximately twenty minutes, and the crew is gathering for a briefing." As always the AI sounded unflappably polite; except of course when Joker was talking to her, or sometimes when it was Shepard and Joker together.

Shepard glanced around the cargo area Grunt called home. His tank still sat prominently in one corner (heavens knew they did not have a cot big or robust enough to fit him), but slowly he was starting to personalize his space. Granted, she could wish it would take less after Zaeed's tastes, but she was not surprised. Plus, she had managed to keep him from keeping anything organic. Yet. "Thank you EDI. Grunt, good leaders are strong, great leaders make others strong. I just think it might be good if you start thinking about what you want. The Reapers are still out there, but if we survive the coming war your people will need you."

"I am clan Urdnot. What do I owe my people?" He was starting to get uncomfortable now. It was time to make a hasty, but dignified exit.

"Only you can decide what you do and do not owe anyone Grunt."

A part of her wondered at the sheer diversity of the group gathered around her. Ages ranged from less than a year to getting close to a millennia, all genders represented, and their species encompassed most in Citadel space (and at least one outside it). Yet, despite the push some may have felt to include someone biased only on species to make themselves appear open minded or pure (depending on which side of that spectrum they shipped), every person on her crew had earned his or her place there. The 'non-combat' crew members crowded around the ring her squad created, some shoved into the tiny quarters with their back and shoulders pressed into a corner. The air was heavy with the breath of them, and the responsibility, duty, and protectiveness pressed around her momentarily along with the exhaled oxygen. The crew hummed with energy that needed burning off; clearly she and Garrus were not the only ones who needed to "blow off steam", but the lack of privacy was likely making that option more difficult.

"Many of you know that Cerberus has cut us off for destroying the Collector base. We need not rehash my reasons- you all were there. The reasons have woken us up more than once this last week with the night sweats." The crew began to mutter uncomfortably with that; not that she expected otherwise- the ship's councilor certainly was earning her pay with the full time head-shrinking. Despite the cramped space, the Commander paced a few steps to the left, and made eye contact with Kelly behind her. The yeoman gave her a slight nod. "Those of you here who do not wish to be separated from Cerberus will be free to leave when we reach Omega. No one here will blame you- those who joined the organization in the first place did so for reasons you should not have to justify to anyone. Those who stay will have one more chance to leave when we reach Illium. Be very sure if you decide to stay. The Reapers will be gunning for humanity in general and for this ship and it's crew in particular." Shepard rolled one shoulder that was still healing as she paced back. Dr. Chakwas was giving her the piercing look of medical assessment which she ignored, and Garrus was watching with the usual predatory stillness when he gave something his full attention. Grunt did not have the room to shuffle about, though most of the crew was trying desperately to allow him the space. The krogan would move suddenly and without warning, and it would be unfortunate if anyone so happened to be blocking the direction he wanted to go. Shepard continued, "Those who stay behind will be in great danger- but I say if the Reapers come hunting us, let them beware underestimating us. If they seek the death of life in this galaxy, we will be the first bright light that blooms in the hail of firepower to destroy them utterly." The crowd grew still and their attention focused; the commander's words had that effect on people, and the subject was heavy in everyone's hearts- and like lead in Shepard's lungs. "If they desire more civilians from ANY colony of ANY people, we will be the arrow that seeks to lay them low. If they come for Tuchanka, for Thessia, for Kahje, or Sur'Kesh, for Palaven, or for . . . Earth," She swallowed, "I promise we will be the tip of the spear WE lodge in their synthetic throat!" With a final slam on the console table in front of her, she straightened to her full height. "Failure is not an option." Though it was difficult to hide, her chest swelled with pride at the cheer that made the briefing room feel like it shook; these were her people and she would serve them to the best of her ability- and that was no small thing.

She waited for the cheers to die a natural death, "Now, some of you were either hired by Cerberus, and Miranda has vowed to make sure you get what you were promised-"

"I'll vouch for that." The cankerous merc who hunched over the table leaned heavily on one hip. Shepard had never told anyone he had founded the Blue Suns, but somehow the crew had found out and gave the old solder a respectful berth. The gaps around her squad made the room more crowded than it could have been. "I was paid in full- not sure how you managed that one darlin', but I appreciate it."

Mummers from around the table seemed to confirm that issue was taken care of. Miranda was busy covering her face with one hand at the pet name Zaeed had recently taken to calling her. Shepard raised one hand to regain the crew's attention, "Some of you have been promised compensation in other ways; have each of you got what you were promised?" Jack and Grunt swapped a look that made grown men run for a change of pants, which the crew knew to ignore. "I take that as a yes. Now, we are going to need an army for this little encounter we are planning, and we can't count on the Council to wake up- though it would be nice."

Tali looked up from her Omni tool. "I have contacted Admiral Shala'Raan vas Tonbay- and I have asked her to visit us on Illum. No offence Legion, but we can't exactly bring you to the Migrant Fleet by yourself; I barely can imagine it with Shepard there. Admiral Han'Gerrel vas Neema might be convinced if we can guarantee the homeworld or at bare minimum at place to protect non-combatants. Admiral Zaal'Koris vas Qwib Qwib should jump at the idea of peace with the Geth, and we will have a majority of the Admiralty board. The Conclave remains a problem, however."

Legion, who stood opposite of Tali, somehow managed a submissive gesture, moving his 'face' accordingly. "Creator Tali Zora should not worry. This platform has no desire to cause incident. Shepard-Commander will be moderator."

Shepard nodded. "We will move slowly, regardless. This could blow up in our faces very quickly. Legion, are you sure you will be able to act as a diplomat?"

"This platform was designed with interaction with organics in mind. We have achieved consensus that we will advocate for all Geth." Legion fiddled with his Omni tool, and the mirror image the two of them created caused Shepard to smile.

"Very good then. EDI, have you sent out those e-mails I wrote?"

EDI's hologram appeared in the center of the table as she addressed Shepard. "Yes Commander. Dr. Liara T'Soni has agreed to the meeting time and place, Urdnot Wrex has sent a tentative reply, saying and I quote, "I will make it there if I can get these ground-grubbing, short sighted, varrens from getting their quads in a bunch long enough to fly there'; still no reply from Lt. Kaidan Alenko."

Tali made a derisive noise. She and the other remaining members of the old Normandy were taking Kaidan's distance personally. She wished they would be a tad more subtle about it; the rest of the crew was beginning to pick it up and if he ever came on board, thing could get 'complicated'. "Well, if there's no other business, we will be staying at Omega for approximately two days. Be back on the ship at 08:00 hours or we will assume you elected to stay behind. Dismissed."

The drone of the engines hummed more audibly in the Life Support section of the Normandy. The dryness of the air was just barely noticeable to her, but perhaps that was enough. Although she knew Dr. Chakwas had checked their assassin out when he'd first come on board, Mordin had been working on some possible solutions to make Thane more comfortable should he choose to return- mostly as a mental exercise. Shepard never objected to those- some surprising and useful data had come out of them, and she quietly was of the opinion it was some sort of coping mechanism for having too much brain.

"Thane?"

"Yes, Siha?" Thane whispered, his voice remaining oddly guttural and raspy. She wondered if all Drell's voices were that way.

The drell had been acting oddly detached after the suicide mission; everyone dealt with near-death experiences differently, but she was worried. "Thane, are you . . . disappointed that we survived?"

"Perhaps, in some ways it would be easier," the drell seemed deep in thought, she wasn't sure if he knew he was rubbing his left palm with his right fingertips in slow circles. "But now I must take advantage of our survival, fleeting though it may be. Kolyat deserves my attention while I can spare it. You have made me realize this, and now I must make time for him where I was too selfish before." He paused, "May I ask you something?"

"Go ahead," she replied, wondering if she should sit down. Philosophy and religious discussions with their assassin were always stimulating, but they could become very drawn out.

"I am . . . not very good at reading humans. Sometimes you seem sad. I have watched you comfort and goad the crew as you saw they needed it, and always with the intention of making them a better person."

She smiled, but she could tell it did not reach her eyes. "Thane, I am sad for many reasons. I worry for many more. What is the question?

"Who comforts you Siha?" Thane asked quietly

"Thane," Shepard said with sudden insight, "You loved your wife, and you are scared now. You want comfort from me that I-" she groped for words. Thane and she had slowly moved from respecting one another to being close intellectual friends; at least, that was what she had thought. "I can't provide it for you Thane. Not in the way you are asking."

"I know this siha, but still-"

Shepard sighed, "Thank you for your concern, but I am fine." His enormous eyes continued to bore at her, and after a minute she inquired "Are you asking 'Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?'"

Thane's brow firled in concentration. "I belive my traslator just glitched. What does that mean?"

Shepard smiled, "Only if you explain what 'siha' means."

Thane allowed the subject to drop as they wandered back to their comfortable subjects, feeling she had been as gentle as she had been able to- much to his frustration.

The end of Shepard's "day" came without too much drama. Naturally, most of the crew had pulled her aside to have "a special word" with her. Several of her squad were leaving, including Thane (who was going to spend some time with his son), Samara, and Zaeed. Thane said he would be back if he was able, but Shepard was not sure about the other two. Samara's mission was finished- though heaven help Omega if she decided to stay there! As for Zaeed, he went where he was paid, and she could not help but admit she had gotten her credit's worth with him. But without Cerberus' backing there was simply no way she could retain him. He had laughed a little condescendingly at that particular conversation, and told her it had been taken care of, and she'd see him; but not right away. Katsumi apparently had a prospective job offer, and Shepard had taken care to not ask the petite Japanese woman about it. To be honest, she probably didn't want to know.

She was still tired by the time she took the elevator up to her quarters. Deep inside, she admitted that she probably was not as recovered as she'd like- but if she'd said anything to that effect, the crew would likely sit on her until she'd had a month's worth of leave. Her crew's over-protectiveness was starting to feel suffocating.

"You saved them Shepard," Katsumi had retorted to the unspoken observation when she'd gone to find out what Katsumi's plan's were, "And not just in the distant, impersonal 'Hero of the Skyllian Blitz' or 'Savior of the Citadel' kind of way but the literally 'pulled them out of coffin-pods and stopped them from becoming a human milkshake, then sent Mordin along to make sure their traumatized asses made it back, though you could have really used every scrap of firepower' kind of way. You were asking for it."

'Yeah,' she thought to herself as she reached her quarters, 'I asked for it.'

The Captain's quarters were already dim, and the Commander could just make out the large lump of the individual who shared her bed. He'd been off for around four hours now, having worked the mid-shift, and should be deep asleep by the time she'd gotten off. The fish tanks glowed and she could swear the Prothean orb she'd recovered had its' own luminescence, though in the half-light she could not be sure. She quietly as she could manage performed the nightly bed time rituals before crawling into bed. As always, he had neatly stacked her notes together on one of her desks so that she did not have to worry about not damaging them on her way to bed.

He woke slightly. He always seemed to as soon as she crawled into bed with the intention of sleeping. She could sit up and read all night, but as soon as she was ready to sleep, he would open his eyes and his arms so she could curl against him. One hand reached out as she settled, and he drew a fist full of hair toward his face. She felt him take a deep breath, smelling her hair, then settled back to sleep.

Thus, tucked under the chin of a Turian and completely dwarfed by his large frame did the hero of the Skyllian Blitz, the savor of the Citadel, and the over-worked and no longer paid Captain of the SSV Normandy settled into sleep.

Breakfast with Samara had become a habit that Shepard was going to well and truly miss. While the asari did not feel like a 'mother' per se, she did feel like a wise aunt; distant from the awkwardness of a mother-daughter relationship but also close in an familiar-advisor sort of way. She also knew that Hanna Shepard would have instantly bonded with the distant asari- that they both would have liked and trusted each other right away. Shepard sat with her coffee cup cradled in both hands as the two of them watched the endlessness of stars before them. The silence was comfortable, and they both hated goodbyes.

"Samara?" she asked at last.

"Yes Commander?" the justicar asked without seeming disturbed. Unspoken between them was the agreement to make the parting as painless as possible.

"You know of the asari councilor's reluctance to see the Reapers as more than a myth and the babblings of one half-mad Spectre?" The quiet bitterness spilled out despite her attempt to conceal it.

"I know of it," Samara continued, pretending not to notice her distress, "I know what I have seen with my own eyes as well. You wish to know how to approach her?"

Struggling to control her emotions, Shepard nodded.

"You know that asari are long lived, and that is one excuse they are using to ignore you- 'she is simply too young to realize what is important or the young are very excitable'. You know that asari naturally attempt to balance or maintain perceived balance in a political structure, and that is the TRUE reason they do not accept what you say. We long for stability, even if false. As for what action to take," Samara briefly glanced toward Shepard, "You should not take any action at all. I have spoken to Mordin, and with your permission I would like to copy the data we have collected, along with the formal letter Mordin has drafted for his species representative to the Council."

Shepard inhaled slowly, feeling both that she was grateful that Samara was going to intercede on her behalf, and enraged at her impotence to beat some sense into the Council. Gratefulness won out. "Thank you, Samara, for everything. Do you plan on staying on Omega for long?"

"Only long enough to secure transport to the Citadel."

"No doubt Aria will be as grateful as I am now when she hears."

Gathering what little personal credits she had to her name, Shepard went wandering into Omega about twelve hours after they had initially docked. She was looking for something worthy to spend it on, though she had no idea if she was looking for a gift, something for herself, or something for the ship. Samara had asked her to look for transportation to the Citadel for her while she was out. Katsumi had originally gone out with her, and had vanished shortly before Shepard made it to the markets. She had squeezed her hand briefly before vanishing into the crowd. With that, it seemed, she would have to be content.

The last of her goodbyes, such as they were, done, Shepard went around to each merchant stand and browsed though the catalogs of their wares, and as they did so the murmurs around her began to send up flags.

The word 'turian' came up repeatedly, along with the word 'c-sec', but it wasn't until she was carefully thumbing though the grease-stained catalog of Harrot, the rather twitchy elcor merchant, did another word get floated by what seemed to be an Eclipse merc at first glance did her blood run icy.

"Vakarian."

The merc groups had been sure that Archangel was dead. They could not have discovered his identity. She took as shaky breath to steady her nerves, then shook her head at Harrot- nothing good enough for her to spend her credits on here. Apparently she had cleaned him out last time. She as she slowly wandered back toward Afterlife, she casually activated her com. "EDI, did you catch that?" she hissed.

"Affirmative Commander. Garrus Vakarian is on board the ship, continuing his work on recalibrating the main cannon." EDI replied. "I will let him know to stay on board."

"Secure the ship against intruders, and maintain radio silence. If Garrus balks, tell him it's an order."

"Done . . . and done. Who would you like for me to send to you for assistance?"

Shepard bit into her bottom lip, and felt it split beneath the pressure. All her "shady friends" had left already. She needed a detective. Mordin would suffice perfectly and he knew the area. For the second person she needed someone with firepower that could be delicate when needed- normally Garrus, but she didn't dare let him off the ship. "Send Mordin and Miranda EDI, after you brief them. Have them meet me at Afterlife. I need to talk to Aria anyway."

Afterlife was always was a menagerie of smells, sounds, and people, most of them unpleasant. Miranda found the captain nursing a drink at the bar, waiting for them and wearing a guarded expression. The former Cerberus agent ignored the leers from the patrons, who clearly did not remember the mess she had caused the last time the Normandy had docked at the asteroid-turned-space station. Mordin was, as always, on high alert. Salarian minds tended to work quickly, but having overheard Yeoman Kelly once refer to the doctor as "like a hamster on coffee", the biotic could not help but wonder if she had understated the matter. Fortunately he was not speculating until the Commander could brief them herself; at least not out loud anyway.

With one jerk of the chin, the two squad mates moved in toward their captain. The grim facial expression only cemented one thing in their minds- whoever had put their crew in danger was likely going to digging their own grave soon. One of the absolute rules Miranda knew about her commanding officer was Shepard did not tolerate threats toward "her" people.

"Did EDI talk to you?" the Commander asked without preamble.

"Yes. Quoted statistics of threshold danger words toward Vakarian. Situation probability moving toward explosive. Clearly must eliminate threat toward crew and ship." Mordin Solus began, trailing off when Shepard got to her feet and instead settled for nodding decisively.

"My thoughts exactly. Come on, let's see if Aria will oblige us." One swift motion of her Omni tool paid for her drink and tipped the bartender, before she turned on her heel and began the short march toward the platform where the asari surveyed her domain.

Miranda had never been entirely sure why Aria was so casual about allowing a Spectre near her, much less dropping in unannounced to talk to her. Oh, Miranda would have bet her good pair of pants that the bouncers, the bartenders, and the strippers kept an eye on all the customers and would report the interesting ones covertly; and it was possible Aria was playing the 'keep your possible enemies close' card. Maybe she was picking up subtle intel from them, or possibly she felt the need to find out what the 'dead' Spectre was up to so she could make the appropriate calls, or maybe the asari was fascinated by someone who didn't feel the need to shout about their strength in front of her. Not knowing the reasons anyone did ANYTHING made Miranda nervous.

As usual the guards let them though with a jerk of the head, and Aria was lounging on her make-shift throne of cushions. Shepard waited calmly for Aria to acknowledge her presence, and then settled just out of arm's reach. She clearly trusted Miranda and Mordin to keep her safe, and Aria knew it too. The subtle dance of each set of 'guards' watching each other began, and both the leaders pretended to ignore the hair trigger tension swimming in the air. Miranda watched the batarian guard to the left. He seemed to be rather twitchy.

"What do you need?' barked the former Asari commando.

"Rumors have been circulating that someone has been looking for a turian with the last name "Vakarian". I need to find out if I need to take steps." Shepard casually twisted one lock of hair near her face, than brought it to her lips, but her eyes never wavered. Both women's positions were "relaxed" but there was an energy running underneath it.

"I have heard some of the talk," Aria began, her sentence initially drawn out in the way one asks for a bribe before Shepard interrupted the unspoken question of 'what's it worth to you?' with a cough.

Now that she had Aria's attention back, she shifted deeper into the cushions, "There was one other thing I wanted to mention. The justicar who is part of my crew is taking a somewhat, uhm, extended leave. She mentioned last time we were here that she wanted to come back here once our mission was finished, and I was more than happy to oblige. However, it occurs to me that she might find the Citadel a better vacation spot- don't you agree?" Aria laughed- at what Miranda was not sure. Shepard smiled, "Consider it under my 'not fucking with Aria' rule."

"I know of a nice little ship that would probably serve. I'll let them know to give a discount- they owe me a favor. As for the rumors," Aria stood to look back out over her club, "A turian came around about a week ago. Started trying to dig up what was already dead and buried. He wanted information about that little vigilante you hooked up with. He wanted to see me, in fact, but I wasn't interested. He stalked around like he was better than everyone else, and it eventually got him into trouble. I'd look into what's left of the Eclipse band here- they seemed particularly interested 'acquiring' him once the bouncers were done with him for starting a fight."

Shepard stood, and Miranda kept from letting out the breath she'd been holding. The Salarian beside her made a point of checking him Omni-tool before glancing her way. "Always a pleasure Aria," the captain said as she inclined her head toward the asari.

"Pleasure's all mine. Do be sure your crew tips the girls nicely, and try not to blow up too much of Omega on your way out."

The tip about the Eclipse was enough, as Aria probably knew it would be- though she was not sure if the de-facto leader of Omega knew just how fast EDI could pinpoint Eclipse chatter to the warehouse the three Normandy crewmates were currently hiding outside of. Then again, Aria was still sore about the mercs planning to gang up on her, so she likely wouldn't do them any favors. They had patiently watched the small Salaian troop guard rotate twice, and they were waiting for the thirty second gap Mordin calculated would occur in five minutes. Inwardly, Shepard was seething. Very few things set her off more than someone or thing gunning directly for her crew. Miranda checked the clip on her pistol once more, just as her commander had done for the shotgun she favored.

Mordin gave the signal, and the squad sprinted though the dark path they had laid out earlier. Mordin began the process of hacking the side door almost immediately, even as the two women guarded his back. After several tense seconds, the door opened with a quiet hiss, and the three darted inside.

"There," Mordin pointed behind the sketchy safety of a crate. "Fire systems- explosive. To left, possible quarters or make-shift jail. To right, likely command structure. Recommend stealth."

"Right," Shepard hissed in a whisper. "We take out the command structure before anyone knows what's going on. Then we find the turian, and see if he needs to be dealt with as well."

Miranda moved with a quiet grace that was more dancer than her captain's. While Shepard's moves were just was well trained, they did not seem as alluring due to the heavy military motions that accompanied them. Each woman was quietly (and unknowingly) jealous of the other. They climbed the crates in the shadows, creeping in tiny spaces that barely allowed for Shepard's armor to push through without noise. The going was slow, sometimes painfully so. Several times Shepard found herself wishing for that oddly concave torso the Salarians sported. Even as they passed, she noticed Mordin was memorizing the location, numbers, and patrols of each, though none dared light their omni-tool for fear of detection.

'Almost there,' some part of her mind felt the bead of sweat that ran down her forhead, to one side of her nose, and finally stung her split lip, but it was only one of many things that quietly swirled in the back of her mind. For now, even her rage at some unknown thing threatening her crew was like a quiet animal that paced out of sight. Lack of focus would get her crew killed, and damned if she hadn't saved them all in a suicide mission only to lose them in some little filthy hole on Omega.

Blocking the glow from the professor's omni-tool with her body, Shepard timed the patrols. They had approximately two minutes to get into the room on the right and then get out before they were noticed. Miranda tapped her on the shoulder when the door unlocked, and the three waited in tense silence for their window of obscurity to open.

Now. They moved together as though they were one person, Shepard in front, Mordin between them being a slightly soft target, and Miranda behind, keeping exact pace with them despite it being backwards. They slid into the tiny opening the door made at their approach, 'Clever Mordin for programming it to not open all the way so if the room is lit, there is less chance of us being discovered.'

The room was indeed lit, leaving very little to imagination as they took in the unconscious turian tied to the chair in the center of the room, the blue blood that covered him plus parts of the wall where it had splattered, and the very shocked salarian Eclipse members who stared at their sudden entrance.

Shepard signaled for a singularity from Miranda, who did not hesitate and placed it beheath the chair, even as Shepard gestured and threw the barrier around the turian. Three well placed, silenced shots ended any possibility of betrayal of their presence.

"Modin," Shepard hissed as Miranda canceled the biotic display. The genius doctor was already moving toward the victim.

"Alive. Still, recommend immediate evacuation to Normandy." The brief glow of the omni-tool as it dispensed Medi-gel showed hollows in the turian's form. "Older, not as biologically resilient as could be wished. Been tortured Shepared." The last was said with the whisper of distress.

"Do what you can for him, we need to be able to move him quickly or none of us will get out of here." Shepard knelt down along with her fellow biotic to assist Mordin in applying the life-saving gel. "How long before that gap re-occurs?"

"Nine minutes, eighteen seconds." As usual, Mordin did not pause in his emergency first-aid.

"Miranda kill that light. Here is what we are going to do."

Garrus, like most turians, had three primary ways of relaxing when under stress: work, fight, or have sex. Being the only turian on a ship was. . . challenging, to say the least, but he had done it for quite a while now, and even before that, he had been working with humans at C-Sec- so he coped with stress by doing prep-work for the next fight they would inevitably encounter. He had already cleaned his sniper rifle three times, and now he was calibrating each of the Normandy's guns by hand; i.e. without EDI's help.

Shepard had offered to help with reliving his 'tension' before they made their suicide run on the Omega 4 relay, but she wasn't here to help him ease tension now. His talons clacked across the deck plates as he began to pace in agitation. EDI also would not tell him WHY he had been ordered to remain on the ship. All she would say was, 'there has been a threat identified toward you and Shepard has gone to neutralize the threat'. He had a sneaking suspicion that EDI had decided that the probabilities were too high that he'd run off the ship, orders be damned, if he knew the whole of it.

Damn, he had been planning to go out to the markets and see if he could find something special for her. He knew she wasn't sleeping well, and every waking moment she was working on something. Garrus knew Shepard, and she was not going to stop working unless someone made her. But now she was gone from the ship, not recovered from their suicide run, without him there to watch her six.

Garrus tried to get back to focusing on his calibrations, and tried not to feel each muscle in his back lock.

Torbin was feeling skittish; not particularly unusual for any of the Eclipse mercenaries the last few months or so. The group was trying desperately to fill the large number of mid-rank vacancies created by the nightmarish human who seemed to pick fights with them just for fun. First, here on Omega the mercenary groups had been plagued by that Archangel bastard. The issues had cost them considerable product, credits, and lives, to the point where they had formed that foolhardy alliance between themselves, the Blue Suns and the Blood Pack. He had been out securing a rather large shipment of red sand at the time, and when he had left he had been sure he would return to an Omega that had gone back to the way it was supposed to be. He had gotten some reports initially that stated that the plague had been brought under control and someone had finally found a cure- though his cheerfulness was doused by wet and cold reality when he returned to their hideout to discover the number dead. His only salve was the Blue Suns and Blood Pack had been hit just as hard, if not harder, so the balance of power remained un-shifted. Then Aria's men had come around, after her somehow discovering the plot against her. Moving the shipment of the biotic stimulant became horrendously slow. In his many hours of hiding he had done what digging on the extra-net he could and discovered that a Spectre of all things had intervened, gutting their operation seemingly as an afterthought.

Then he got a message from his cousin.

Three high profile, higher paying jobs had each gone horribly sour; because a human Spectre had intervened. Torbin still was trying to grasp the body count. Then there was what happened to Donovan Hock. It just did not bear thinking about.

Each 'problem' had one similarity- a human seemed to have taken offense at the merc presence; the nasty twist was there was no reason for the human (or the Spectres for that matter) to be there. This was the Terminus Systems! The council's authority didn't extend here, but no one wanted to talk about it. Mixed in with all the rumors was the whisper that the human Spectre Shepard was alive. Torbin didn't believe it himself, Spectres had no reason to fake their deaths, and the human Alliance would not have downplayed the rumors so desperately and completely if they weren't true. This did not mean this human wasn't working with a Spectre though. Their much reciprocated hatred of batarians was no secret, and batarians ran though two of the three major merc groups on Omega. The idea nearly made the salarian loose his lunch.

Now, there was this unfortunate business with that turian. He'd been against the idea from the start- Archangel may be dead, but if a Spectre and their company could take on as many of the Eclipse and their specialized sub-sections as the facts seemed to suggest, they should have been hiding in the deepest, darkest hole they could find and praying that the human and their Spectre friend did not come back and finish the job. Revenge was not worth it.

He was on his way to tell his boss just that when he heard a shuffle in the dark in front of him.

The lone armor-clad human woman stared at him with leveling eyes, almost as if she had been waiting for him. His combat training might have kicked in, but even as he leveled his gun, the N7 insignia on her armor, the eerie red glow behind her eyes, and her scars caught his eye. They were three of the few common descriptions reported by the survivors of every attack on the Eclipse members, but he'd never really believed it might have been ONE individual behind everything. Now he saw her face, and realized why she was so familiar to him. Discounting the unholy glowing scars and judging eyes, this was the face of Spectre Commander Shepard- her face had been all over the vids almost three years ago. He froze as his mind juggled juxtaposing facts, before he belatedly realized she was casually tossing something that flickered with the blue of biotics his way. The container slammed into his torso and instinctively he struggled to catch and hold onto it. He looked up for just a moment to see the hovering form of the human spectre, swathed in blue, with a smile that did nothing to warm her eyes. The abstract and horrifying beauty caused all thoughts to empty out of his head but one. Briefly he remembered the definitions and variations on the human word "Archangel"- one of them had alluded to an "Angel of Death". Aloft in the air, she leveled her pistol at him and fired at the explosive barrel she'd nonchalantly tossed into him, even as another pistol to his left went off- sealing the off duty and sleeping Eclipse members in their barracks as they fired in unison.

The resulting screams, flames, and gunfire hid the escaping form of one salarian doctor and one unconscious turian very well.