Part Two

                                                                                      Aftermath

The resulting explosion rang across the system, temporarily knocking out video feeds and blinding anyone stupid enough to be looking directly at it. Since everyone else was on the other side of the Relay, that last wasn't too much of an issue. Once the dust settled, the Citadel hung motionless in the sky, the damage to it surprisingly minimal. Shepard's particular coding gymnastics, and her use of that specific explosive panned out, leaving the rebuilding necessary at minimum levels.

The rest could not be said for the Reapers, however, and that's exactly how she meant it to be. The sky of the Bahak system was littered by the bits and chunks of thousands of metallic entities, completely inert as the pieces slowly spiraled wherever their momentum sent them. The clean up would take time, but thankfully the forces Shepard had gathered in case of a potential ground war would be equally suited to this task as well.

Things were still tense for the first few weeks after the Reapers were wiped out. Were the bodies still a danger? Did she get them all? Was there anything worse lurking behind them? Would their destruction cause a weird vacuum in the galaxy, or would technology go haywire? These fears were valid, but for once it seemed like things would actually go right for people. Well, as much as it could, anyway.

Shepard's team dispersed to the roles she had set them up in, very similar to where they had been the first go around, only with way less death and destruction. Relations between the Geth and Quarians were bumpy, but hopeful. Wrex, Eve, and Grunt were bulldozing through the old Krogan ways, with Mordin and Maelon's work on the genophage cure. Maelon himself had left the project just before the Reapers were destroyed, since Mordin and him kept butting heads. He didn't keep in touch with the rest of the team.

Kaidan and Ashley jointly became the first publicly acknowledged Human Spectres, Anderson remained Admiral, and Udina remained a pain in the ass, as usual. Without Cerberus up his ass, he wasn't as bad as he could have been, and humanity could have done worse for an ambassador. Joker and EDI stayed with the SR2, helping to keep Kaidan and Ashley out of too much trouble while they ran joint ops. Anderson kept the SR1 as his home ship, since it was originally slated as his anyway.

Liara remained the Shadow Broker, working hard to turn it more into a force for good than anything else. As much as she could, anyway. She also worked closely with Javik to help him tell his story, while using his knowledge of the way things were after he was born to fill in the gaps and paint a better picture of the Prothean Empire – well, a clearer picture anyway. Garrus reconciled with his father, and took some time off to figure out what he wanted to do with his life – Shepard had left some instructions and options for good positions for Garrus and some of the others in a timed email to Anderson. His father, on the other hand, wanted him to work in C-Sec, and the Council had their own ideas for him, as well.

Thanks to Shepard's sacrifice, all stories big and small, good, bad, and ugly had a chance to be told, and to fully unfold now. And unfold they shall.

The rhythmic creaking of metal floating in space was something that my brain was used to. Space stations, way stations, and old ships all sounded the same – I never even heard it anymore. In fact, it often lulled me to sleep. The keening screech of metal quickly displaced, however, was not, and a loud metallic squeal jerked me upright from my sleep. In my panic I reached for a weapon, and realized I didn't have one. I looked down, patting myself and the bed I was sleeping on in confusion.

As I looked closer, I saw that I was in a hospital gown, laying in a medical bed. There were no IV's or monitoring leads, but I could see where they had been. Still a bit dizzy from sitting up so fast, I looked carefully around me, trying to figure out where I was and what was going on. In the dimly-lit gloom I could make out little other than a few more beds, a few tables, a desk with a console, and what could possibly have been an inactive mech in one corner. Slowly, I made my way out of the bed, taking a few careful steps to test my balance and strength.

After the fifth step I stumbled a little, catching myself against the bed to my right. A cloud of dust plumed up, causing me to start coughing. My throat was so dry it felt raw, and I stifled those coughs the best I could as I searched the outlying walls. Finally I spied the sink, and I carefully made my way over to it, muffling my coughs and holding onto any object available along the way. The small light above the sink sputtered on fitfully, but it was enough for me to see the sink and the water coming out of the tap. It looked clear, but I still let it run for a few seconds before I took a drink.

It still tasted metallic, but it was enough to quench some of my thirst and quell the worst of the cough. There was also a toilet and a shower to avail myself of, and I stood there for a moment, assessing my body's needs. The shower could wait, the other couldn't. When I was finished I went back to the sink to wash up, and this time I looked up and into the dust-coated mirror. Staring back at me was the thin face of a youngish woman, with bewildered pale gray eyes and badly cropped brunettish hair that had been shorn short on the right side.

Shaking my head I pushed away from the sink, making my way around the rest of the room. It was clearly part of a clinic, and clearly abandoned, but where, and why? I got close to the mech, but it was indeed inactive, for the time being. I still eyed it warily, however. I didn't find anything else useful until I got to the desk with the console, where I found a battered duffle on the floor with the name label 'Osalri, K.' affixed to it. Frowning, I zippered it open, and found three sets of black cargo pants, battered tanks, and undergarments. There was one cargo jacket and one pair of battered but sturdy boots, a canteen, a black padded belt, two battered tool pouches with worn tools, and a good handful of ration bars.

Eyes darting everywhere, I touched the console, only to have it ask me for a password. A quick, dirty search of the desk revealed a slip of paper with some words written on it, and I tried a few of them before the console unlocked. Queued up was a video, and from the still frame I could see that it was a Salarian who had recorded it. I pressed play, and I could immediately see that the Salarian speaking was very sick. He briefly stated the date of the recording, some medical gibberish, and then some biometric data that included the same name that was on the duffle.

Then, he laid down the file, and looked at the screen, while suppressing a cough. "Kari, I don't know exactly when you'll wake up and find this recording." I briefly glanced at the system information on the console – based on the date it was currently showing, if it was accurate this recording was a month and a half old. "I wanted to be there when you woke up, but unfortunately some of my studies and work in the past has come back to bite me in the ass, as you humans like to say. So, I'm recording this, just in case the worst has come to pass."

He stopped there and coughed for half a minute, before taking away the cloth he had held to his mouth to cover it. There was green blood on it – a lot. He frowned. "Oh, that's not good." He muttered, before laying it aside. He folded his hands in front of him on the desk, and tried to look composed.

"I'm not really sure of where to start, so I suppose I should lead with the medical statistics. At the time of this recording you've been in a medically induced coma for three months now, and it's highly likely that you have no memories of anything before now. I'll get to the reason why in a moment." He sighed, and closed his eyes for a couple minutes.

"I don't know the whole details of what happened – you were in no real condition to give me a lot of salient details when you stumbled into my clinic. What I was able to ascertain from your omnitool and what you did manage to tell me was that the last job you took was as a wrench jockey somewhere that you didn't realize was shady, until it was too late. From other info I found, I guess there was a couple rival gangs trying to outdo each other in a bid to become the next big merc group." He paused here to catch his breath, then continued.

"No idea what actually went down, but I assume you got caught in the middle of one of their scuffles, robbed, beaten, and left for dead. You had nothing left and nowhere else to go, so you came to me here on Omega. You've done wrench jockey and cargo monkey work for me in the past, so I assume that's why you thought of me. I know that's why I helped you. Here's the hard part – while I was patching you up, I found... a brain tumor." He trailed off, and my hand went unbidden to the shorn side of my head.

"That's why you've been in a coma, and why you likely don't remember anything. Between my lack of sophisticated tools and the tumor's location, you needed the extra time to heal before you got up and started moving around. Now, as for your memories, I have no idea what's going to happen. You may recover them in time, but you may not. Either way, you're alive, and that's what counts." Another coughing fit, and he needed several minutes to recover this time.

"The irony here is right now, at these intersecting points in our lives, we're all that the other has. Which means, I leave everything I have to you. I'm sorry to say it's not much – the contents of a duffle bag I've kitted out for you, a small credit chit and your omnitool in one side pouch, a small ship in need of a lot of work, and unfortunately all the debt I've amassed while living here. It's not much, but it's the best I can do at this point. Good luck, Kari, I know you'll figure it out. Dr. Maelon out."

I sat there for several heartbeats after the recording ended, stunned. Did he mean me? Well, there was no one else here, and I certainly didn't have any memories. I jerked forward and yanked the bag around, checking the side pockets until I found the chit and the omnitool. I put it on, and it immediately lit up for me, scrolling through a ton of shit before it welcomed me. Sighing, I took it back off, then grabbed the small bag of toiletries I had missed on my first perusal of the duffle. The shower was slow, but it did feel better to be clean, even if it drained my energy.

I sat at the desk in my underthings as I recovered, very slowly gnawing on one of the ration bars. They tasted a little like stale sawdust, but if they got me back to speed then I could do worse. I wasn't completely back up to snuff by the time I had pulled my gear on, but since I didn't remember what snuff was for me, I just shook my head and slowly ate another one. I had expected my stomach to rebel on the first one, since I apparently hadn't eaten for months, but it seemed okay. Halfway through the second one I did have to stop, though.

While I was waiting I played around with the console, unsure of what I was looking for, and unsure of how I knew what I was doing to begin with. I wasn't able to find much of any use, however – just some snippets of my medical file, and the last few protocols for the mech. It was supposed to monitor my vitals, keeping my IV full and the other stuff empty as needed. Once it ascertained I was close to shaking off the coma on my own, it was to remove everything, then deactivate itself. On a whim I decided to see if I could reactivate it and get anything else from it, but that must have been a bad idea because the system started wiping itself. Everything was gone in a matter of seconds, including the video Maelon had left me.

Frustrated, I smacked my palm on the desk, then sighed. I guess that was what I got for messing around with things without knowing what I was doing. There was nothing left of any use in the clinic, so I slung the duffle over my shoulder and made my way out, leaving it behind without looking back. There was a waypoint in my omnitool, and I made my way there silently, trying to hide how shaky I still felt.

My bag thumped to the ground as I stared at what was waiting for me in that docking bay – the rusted hull of a ship not even the scummiest scrapyard would want. Blinking rapidly I made my way up to it, still not wanting to believe that this was what he had meant when he had said a small ship in need of a lot of work. I couldn't deny it any longer when I got close to it and my omnitool lit up, sending the ship the proper codes to open the door. My heart sank as I scooped up my bag, stepping inside with the small hope that things couldn't get much worse.

Of course I was wrong – the inside was almost completely gutted. There was literally almost nothing but the shitty electrical, a shell sketching out whatever layout plan the last owner had in mind, a pathetic excuse of an engine, a shittier excuse of a VI, and the ghost of a flight console. The only bright spot was the footlocker, a couple boxes of human rations, and the cot shoved up against the hull. At least I wouldn't be sleeping on the floor, because there was no way I was going back to that creepy clinic. My luck, the door had locked behind me and I couldn't get back in anyway.

I don't know how long I stood there, head lost in trying to figure out the logistics of putting together a life I didn't remember and had little direction on, when a thump on the doorway sounded behind me. I spun and dropped into a ready stance, causing the human male to laugh somewhat mockingly. "If I wanted to hurt you, I could have while your head was lost in the clouds. Come, boss wants a word." He finished, indicating that I should follow him. I dropped the duffle I was still holding, then stepped out the door and locked it behind me. I didn't have much, and I'd be damned if I let anyone steal it.

I followed the man through the docks, passing through various cargo bays and repair stations. Finally we reached an office that had a lovely view of incoming and outgoing traffic, and the man took a stance by the door, while the man behind the desk and I eyed each other warily. Then, a large, shark-like grin crossed his face, before settling into something almost genuinely friendly. "Kari! It's so nice to see you up and among the living! So to speak." He quipped, then amended quickly when one of my eyebrows slid up to my hairline.

"I had an alert set to go off when the doors of the ship opened, in case you were wondering. I figured you'd make your way there eventually, and I'm sure you were in no shape for this conversation right after you woke up." He was still smiling as he finished, but I simply waited for him to continue. I wasn't in the mood to mince words with someone I had literally just met. Finally, some of that fakeness faded from his face, and I saw a real, wry smile from him. For some reason, he reminded me of the epitome of the mid-20th century mobster stereotype. I fully expected him to say 'fuggedaboutit', and as I realized that, I also realized I had no idea where that thought came from.

"Maelon did mention that you could be quite taciturn, until you got to know someone. Taciturn, and smart as a whip. You know, for an irascible, tricksy little shit, I almost miss him. Always trying to haggle down his debt racked by his shitty little free clinic by offering all my boys and girls free services." His eyes went a little distant as he trailed off, and I could have sworn I saw just a little bit of wistfulness. That vanished so quickly I easily could have imagined it, however.

"Anyhow, onto more important things. I am Rodrick O'Donnell. You may call me any combination of the above – Rodrick, Rod, Rick, O'Donnell, Uncle Rod, Uncle Rick, whatever tickles your fancy. The only one I would prefer you leave out is Mr. O'Donnell – I'd rather that one die with my bastard of a father." He grimaced a bit at that last comment, then smiled warmly and clapped his hands together softly. "But, we're not here to talk about the dusty and best forgotten past – We're here to talk about the present, and the possibilities for a brighter future for the both of us. Now, I won't beat around the bush – Maelon owed me a lot of money. Which, unfortunately for you, my dear, that means you owe me a lot of money." He said, face neutral as he brought up his personal console and played with it for a second.

My omnitool pinged, and I brought it up, looking at the data he had just sent me. The figure on the screen was enough to make my eyes water, but I lowered my tool and just looked at him. I knew he'd get to the point eventually, and I also knew that I was screwed either way. What a fucking way to wake up. Kind of made a tiny part of me wish the meddlesome Salarian had just let the tumor run its course – or maybe that the thugs had done a better fucking job.

"Now, regardless of what you will likely hear about me in the future, I'm not actually heartless. I know that none of this is expressly your fault, and so I'm going to take it as easy on you as my reputation and business will allow me to." More tapping on his console, and another ping on my omnitool. "I'm sure this isn't what you'd prefer, all things considered, but it is quite generous. After all – well, you'll see." He said, and waved to me with one hand. With the barest of an eyelid flutter I brought the message up. Since he owned the dock where the ship was resting, rental for that was also included in the debt Maelon had racked up.

His 'generous' offer was to let me continue to leave the ship in the docking bay, with all of the utilities that came with it, and use of the nearby mechanics showers and restrooms free of charge, for free. The bare minimum basic rations once a day would also be included, for free. In return I worked for him on the docks, for a standard workweek period of shifts, and he would dock half of my pay to go towards the debt. That would leave me time to work another job or odd jobs on the side if I wished – if the jobs also happened to be for him or his people, half of the pay being docked would also apply. If it was for someone else, it would only be one third. I narrowed my eyes just a touch, then lowered my tool to look at him again.

"Like I said, quite generous. I could be docking up to 90% of your pay and charging rental of the bay to boot, but I'm not. If you don't like the terms, you're welcome to go elsewhere, but the debt is leveraged against the ship so you can't sell it. I know it's not going anywhere in that condition, and while you might be able to stow away on some ship to get off this rock, well..." He just spread his hands, and shrugged. "This way, we both benefit. Other people won't try to predatorily buy your debt off and exploit you worse, you will still have money to buy your necessities and slowly put that ship back together, and I get good labor from you while you pay off your debt as well. If nothing else, it's better than being sold into slavery, yeah?" He said, tone light as he shrugged again.

The bastard had me by the balls, and we both knew it. Honestly, from what I knew of Omega's reputation, which wasn't much more than a gut feeling at this point, this deal was actually more than fair. Maelon had said that I came to him because I did work for him in the past, but what hadn't he said? Was it because he was the only one I felt I could trust? Did I have no one else? Did I have nowhere else to turn? Had I felt that going anywhere else would put others in danger? Thoughts started ricocheting around in my head, making me instantly dizzy. No, I couldn't afford to appear any weaker than I already was in front of this man. I trusted him about as far as I could throw him, and I knew I couldn't even lift him at his point.

"When do I start?" I asked, my voice cracked and rusty from months of misuse, after I had shaken my head a bit and jerked my thoughts back around to the present, and the potential threat in front of me.

"Well, my dear, I know you just woke up, and Maelon said that you may or may not have any memories. He also told me that your muscle memory should likely be fine – meaning that you may be able to do the same things you used to be able to do, but it's possible you may not, or it may come and go. So, first of all, I'm going to let you take a couple days to rest up, kit up, and get some strength back in you in the form of real food and exercise before I throw you to the wolves, so to speak. Then, we start testing you out and see how much your body remembers, even if your mind doesn't."