There was a few bars and shops spread across the station, but for the most part it was a maze of passageways and apartments both rich and poor seeming to have no seperation.  Afterlife was the center of the Asari's 'base of operations,' a club that served more than the occasional beer or so the rumors said.  More than one backroom deal happened there, and the 'woman' in charge, (the asari being monogendered so really they didn't have male and female halves like other races,) knew of the meeting of course.  Information was her trade, as well as a number of different things from housing mercs to keeping the residents in line with an iron fist when the need arose.  John thankfully got to the first arrivals before anyone else did, twenty Marines carrying a variety of assault rifles and shotguns to sniper rifles on their person, all 'loaded' up with thermal clips that could be modified to fit the situation.  "You must be the first of the hopefully many reps we're trying to gather here before moving on to the Capital.  John Zatheral, SPECTRE Operative and leader of the security team meant to escort you to the meeting once the rest have gathered here.  To who do I owe the honor of addressing?"  He asked, holding out his armored hand in typical Earth greeting unless such an act was offensive for the alien before him.  What was he anyway?  Half horse, half man from the look of it, but the rest appeared human.  His trained tactical eyes spotted the guards without even having to do a thorough check of their gear.  They all looked dangerous in their own way, but John was hoping the strangers were friendly.