Gillian turned to discover that a waitress was standing half a meter away from her. The asari was dressed in a slightly luminescent top, short skirt, and high-heeled shoes that glowed green. She was holding a tray with two empty glasses on it and had an expectant look on her face. Unfortunately Gillian had no idea what to do. Was it necessary to purchase a drink? Could she afford to do so? And what would she order?

  The waitress smiled engagingly as if to allay Gillian’s discomfort. “Have you been here before?”

  Gillian shook her head.

  “Right then,” the asari said. “Perhaps you would enjoy one of our nonalcoholic drinks. A Zesmeni Blush perhaps. That’s a blend of fruit juices with a touch of mint.”

  That helped Gillian find her voice. “Yes, thank you. And there’s something else as well. I would like to speak with Aria T’Loak.”

  If the waitress was surprised there was no sign of it on her beautiful face. “One Zesmeni Blush coming up … And I’ll pass your request along.” With that she left.

  There was an empty table nearby, so rather than stand at the edge of the circular walkway, Gillian made her way over to it. The closest customers, a trio of batarians, turned twelve eyes in her direction. Having registered her presence they resumed their conversation.

  Time passed and Gillian began to feel increasingly awkward since she had no drink and no one to talk to. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, the waitress returned. “Here you go,” she said, and placed a tall glass on the table. It was filled with an amber-colored liquid and topped off by a slice of fruit and a glittering stir stick. “That will be ten credits.”

  Gillian fumbled for the chips, found three of them, and placed them on the tray. She didn’t know how much to tip and hoped five was enough. Judging from the asari’s smile it was. “Thank you,” she said. “Miss T’Loak isn’t available but Mr. Immo has agreed to see you. He is one of Miss T’Loak’s senior staff members—and will be able to answer any questions you may have. Wait here and he’ll drop by as soon as he can.”

  Gillian didn’t want to see a senior staff member and knew he wouldn’t be able to answer her questions. But maybe she could talk the Immo person into facilitating a meeting with T’Loak. So she said “Thank you,” and watched the waitress walk away. Could she sway her hips like that?

  The question remained unanswered as Gillian took a sip of the drink, found it to her liking, and went back to watching the people who passed by. A half-drunk spacer paused at her table a few minutes later, called her “honey,” and was about to sit down when she gave him a biotic “push.” The nudge was sufficient to put him on his ass, much to the amusement of the batarians, who laughed and made what were probably rude comments in their own language.

  The human got up, told them what he thought of “bats,” and stumbled away.

  Five minutes later a salarian appeared, paused to look around, and spotted Gillian. Then, having approached the table, he produced the salarian version of a smile. It looked more like a grimace. “Hello … My name is Tann Immo. May I join you?”

  Gillian nodded. She felt impatient but slightly hopeful. “Please do. Thank you for taking the time to speak with me.”

  “It’s my pleasure,” Immo responded as he sat down. “How can I help?”

  “I wish to speak with Aria T’Loak,” Gillian replied.

  “Regarding what?” Immo wanted to know. “Maybe I can handle your request.”

  “No,” Gillian said tightly as the tension began to build inside of her. It was the wrong approach. The teenager knew that with her brain but her emotions were taking over. It was a problem that plagued her in school as well. But there was more than a lack of self-discipline involved. If she told Immo what she was after, and he told T’Loak, she would lose the only advantage she had. And that was the element of surprise. “I want to talk to T’Loak regarding a private matter,” she said. “And I wish to do so in person.”

  It appeared as though Immo was about to respond when a disturbance was heard off to the left. Two mercs appeared, closely followed by an asari, and two additional bodyguards. Their client had lavender-colored skin, and her face was decorated with a pair of lines that arced between her eyes, as well as a heavier line that ran from a well-formed mouth to the bottom of her chin.

  There was an immediate buzz of conversation from the surrounding customers and Gillian knew who the closely guarded personage was without being told. “Aria T’Loak!” Gillian shouted, as she came to her feet. “I want to talk to you!”

  The asari crime lord kept walking and didn’t bother to turn her head. But three of the four bodyguards stopped, turned toward what they perceived to be a threat, and began to draw their weapons.

  Gillian was amped up both emotionally and physically. Her response was as natural as breathing. Her hands came up, energy flowed, and surged outward. The “reave,” as biotics referred to it, was used to target an opponent’s nervous system. And because the guards were standing so close to each other, Gillian was able to hit all three at once. They dropped their weapons, doubled over, and collapsed. That was when all hell broke loose. People screamed and some of them stampeded out through the front door.

  Immo launched himself at the biotic, but lost all forward momentum as a stasis field locked him in place, and Gillian turned back to the task at hand. And that was to catch up with T’Loak. With that in mind Gillian left the table, stepped out onto the walkway, and was just about to go after the nightclub owner when what felt like a hammer hit her. It was a shockwave. And the force of the biotic blow knocked her down.

  But rather than remain on the floor she rolled right, scrambled to her feet, and found herself confronting two asari biotics. They were blocking the path that led toward T’Loak. Gillian felt a sudden surge of anger, raised her hands, and drew a picture in the air. As thought was transformed into purposeful energy three rapidly shifting mass effect fields came into existence. The “warp” tore the asari biotics asunder. One moment they were there, and the next they weren’t, as chunks of raw meat flew in every direction.

  The resulting blood mist was still floating in the air and would remain so for a few seconds as the half-executed “pull,” which the asari had been creating at the moment of their deaths, lost its coherency. But there was no time to think about that or anything else as a burst of projectiles whipped past Gillian and tore into the bar. Glassware shattered, wood splintered, and someone shouted “Kill her!” as the teen turned to face a new set of attackers.

  Gillian had seen the krogan guards standing outside of the main entrance and now the monsters were marching her way firing as they came. But the biotic barrier she had thrown up was sufficient to protect her for a few seconds. Gillian had surrendered all hope of talking to Aria T’Loak by then. Her only objective was to escape as she took dark energy in, routed it through her customized amplifiers, and gave it purpose.

  What happened next came as a complete surprise to the krogan as Gillian triggered the biotic power called “charge.” Rather than running away from the guards Gillian pounded straight at them. Within the space of three steps her body became a blur and she could feel additional strength coursing through her body as she hit one of the reptiles and sent the brute flying. The krogan smashed into a wall, fell onto a table below, and crushed it under his weight. His partner uttered a roar of rage, Gillian ran for the door, and time seemed to slow.

  Kai Leng had an excellent view of the Afterlife from a darkened third-floor apartment on the opposite side of the street. The window was open and the Vesper sniper’s rifle was resting on a table he had positioned in front of it. All the Cerberus operative had to do was wait. Because after learning of Gillian’s location from the Beggar King he had followed her from the quarian warehouse to the Afterlife and had watched her enter.

  It would have been preferable to kill her quietly, in bed perhaps, or a dark alley. But the quarian warehouse was very well guarded, and even if it had been possible to sneak inside, Leng would have been incredibly obvious. So that meant he would have to carry out the sanction in public. Something that was easier to do on Omega than it would have been on the Citadel. But it still entailed some risk, since all of the people on the street were not only armed, but paranoid. And likely to return fire on the off chance that he was shooting at them.

  Leng’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of muffled sobs. He glanced over his shoulder. The woman who lived in the apartment was crying again. Tape covered her mouth and she was tied to a chair with lengths of cord. Leng frowned. “Shut up. Remember what I told you. Behave yourself and live—or cause trouble and die. The choice is up to you.” The sobbing stopped.

  Leng turned his attention back to the scope and the scene below. Nothing had changed. The question, in his mind at least, was why Gillian had gone into the Afterlife at all. She didn’t seem like the nightclub type. Not that it mattered because his job was to kill her, not understand her.

  The minutes crawled by. People came and went. There was a scuffle between two prostitutes. T’Loak’s mercs chased them away. More time passed. Finally, just as Leng was about to pee in the vase he had selected for that purpose, something happened.

  There weren’t very many private vehicles on Omega, so whenever one appeared it was a sure sign that a VIP was inside. As an armored limo emerged from a side street Leng swung the rifle around to cover it. There was a gun turret mounted on top of the armored vehicle, and four uniformed mercs on the running boards, all of whom were ready to jump down and clear obstacles should anyone or anything get in the way.

  Aria T’Loak? Coming to work? Leng thought so. And that hypothesis was confirmed as the vehicle pulled up in front of the Afterlife and an asari got out. Leng couldn’t see her face, and wouldn’t have been able to take a shot had that been his intent, because the limo was in the way. That was no accident. But the extremely deferential way that the guards were treating her said it all. The Pirate Queen had arrived. All of which was entertaining but otherwise meaningless.

  The limo left, the activity died down, and Leng was starting to think about his bladder again when something strange occurred. Suddenly, for no apparent reason, the krogan door guards turned and went inside. That piqued Leng’s interest and caused him to re-center his crosshairs on the door.

  Nothing happened at first. But then, seconds later, Gillian appeared. And she ran straight at him. Her exit was so sudden, and so unexpected, that Leng barely had time to adjust his aim and squeeze the trigger. There was a soft pop as the silencer did its job, the rifle butt kicked his shoulder, and the projectile spiraled down toward its target. The particle was small, but thanks to the rifling in the gun barrel, and the extreme muzzle velocity that the weapon produced, it packed a big punch.

  But Gillian was moving fast. And instead of hitting her the round struck the krogan who was chasing her. A mixture of blood and brains flew as the fast-moving projectile punched its way through an eye and buried itself in the mercenary’s skull.

  The body was still falling as Leng swore, depressed the rifle, and scanned for Gillian. But it was too late. His target had disappeared.

  That left Leng with no choice but to pack up and leave. He paused long enough to open a flick knife and cut the cords that held the woman in place. “Thanks for the hospitality. Sorry about the mess. Have a nice evening.” There was a hiss as the door opened followed by another as it closed. The night was young. And life, such as it was, went on.

  TEN

  ON OMEGA

  Kahlee and Anderson had been to Omega before. But Hendel hadn’t. And even though he’d heard about conditions on the space station, hearing and seeing were two different things. Thanks to the fact that they were armed and clearly knew what they were doing the threesome had been able to clear the docking area without incident and make their way inside the habitat.

  Once in the thick of things they headed for the Tra-Na hotel. It was a nice hostelry, and the rates were relatively high as a result, but Anderson had a government expense account and saw no reason to stay in a flophouse. Especially given all the security concerns.

  It was almost dark when they arrived. After they had eaten it was time to retire to their individual rooms for the night. The occasional sound of gunfire made it difficult to sleep, so none of them were completely rested as they came together for breakfast. “What’s on the agenda for today?” Hendel inquired as he finished his second cup of caf.

  “There aren’t any public newscasts on Omega,” Anderson replied, as he buttered a piece of toast. “But there is a private subscriber-based service run by a man who sends occasional stories off to the Citadel. I’m told that he can give us a picture of what’s been taking place here—and that could be very helpful.”

  The others agreed and once breakfast was finished they set off for a destination that was a brisk twenty-minute-walk away. Anderson and Kahlee led the way with Hendel bringing up the rear. The office they were looking for was located in a shopping arcade sandwiched in between a Laundromat and a tiny cafe. The sign above the door read GALACTIC NEWS SERVICE. A name that suggested something a lot larger than the one-man operation inside.

  As Anderson, Kahlee, and Hendel entered they saw what they presumed to be the proprietor at the other end of a long narrow room with his back turned to them. He was seated in front of three flat-screen monitors. And as video appeared and disappeared it became clear that he was editing a story. When Anderson said “Mr. Nix?” the human turned.

  Implants of various types were common on Omega, the Citadel, and throughout known space. And many of them were custommade according to the requirements of the individual customer. So seeing them was an everyday occurrence. Still, there was something shockingly unexpected about the zoom lens that protruded from Nix’s right eye socket. The device whirred softly as it brought the visitors into focus. Was it connected to a neural chip? Enabling Nix to record what he saw? Anderson would have been willing to bet on it. The rest of the reporter’s face had a slightly cadaverous appearance. He had wispy hair, a bent nose, and skin that was pitted as if from some disease. “Yes?”

  The actual question was forthright enough, but Anderson thought there was a good deal that hadn’t been said, such as: “I’m busy. What the hell do you want?”

  He forced a smile. “My name is Anderson. David Anderson. This is Kahlee Sanders and the gentleman on my right is Hendel Mitra. We arrived yesterday. According to people on the Citadel you know everything there is to know about the situation here. It’s our hope that you’ll agree to a briefing.”

  The expression on Nix’s face changed subtly. “David Anderson as in Admiral David Anderson?”

  “Yes.”

  “Please sit down,” the newsman said eagerly. “I’m Harvey Nix. Oops! I only have two guest chairs. Sorry about that. Mr. Mitra, is it? Perhaps you would be willing to pull that gearbox over. Exactly, well done. So, Admiral … What brings you to Omega?”

  Anderson could see where things were going and held up a hand in protest. “I can’t give you an interview, but I would be happy to pay for an hour of your time.”

  Money was tight judging from the look of Nix’s office and Anderson saw what might have been a glint of avarice in the reporter’s real eye. “Yes, of course, I understand. My hourly fee is five hundred credits.”

  Anderson didn’t believe that Nix had an established fee. Much less one that was so high. He smiled. “Two fifty.”

  “Done,” Nix agreed quickly. “What would you like to know?”

  “Give us the headlines for the last couple of weeks,” Kahlee put in. “Then, assuming we hear something interesting, we’ll ask for more details.”

  So Nix sat back and launched into a very serviceable summary of the major events that had taken place on Omega during the last fifteen days. Most of which was of very little interest to his audience. But when Nix mentioned that the Grim Skulls and a new organization, which called itself the Biotic Underground, had combined forces to rob a bank owned by Aria T’Loak, all sorts of mental alarms went off. Anderson pressed the reporter for details. And Nix provided all the information he could, including the fact that the batarian who had been in charge of the depository had been hung from a lamppost and subsequently used for target practice.

  Once the account was complete Kahlee turned to her companions. “The Biotic Underground. That’s the group Nick joined.”

  “It sure is,” Anderson replied. “How very interesting.”

  “If the bank robbery is of interest to you,” Nix put in, “then you might want to know about what took place last night.”

  Anderson, Kahlee, and Hendel listened with interest as Nix described how a female biotic had gone crazy inside the Afterlife nightclub. A number of T’Loak’s employees had been killed including a pair of biotic adepts who had been torn to pieces. It was a big deal and everyone on Omega was talking about it. Hendel was the first to respond. “Do you have a picture of her by any chance? That is, the biotic who took the place apart?”

  “As a matter of fact I do,” Nix assured them. “Hold on a sec.”

  Anderson, Kahlee, and Hendel looked at each other, then at the screens on the back wall, as Nix’s fingers flew over the keys on his controller and video swirled. “This is surveillance video from the Afterlife,” Nix said with his back turned to them. “Aria T’Loak’s staff sent it over in hopes that I would include it in my daily feed. The Pirate Queen is offering ten thousand credits for the girl dead or alive.”

  Kahlee held her breath as the video locked up and prayed that the biotic she was about to see was a complete stranger. Then her heart sank. Because there, on all three screens, was a very familiar face. Gillian was looking straight into the camera with hands raised and a grimace on her face. Then the video cut to a reverse over-the-shoulder shot as a pair of asari were ripped to pieces. The little girl Kahlee had known was no more. A killer had been born.