(A/N I'm so sorry I haven't updated! Work got crazy and I found myself so tired I couldn't get creative.)
(A/N edit - It was pointed out to me that I made a really big error a few chapters back when Shepard told Garrus that there had been no one since him. Thankyou for that! It completely slipped my brain when I was writing this. I have rectified the mistakes in both chapters.)
"So, my informant tells me that you requested a meet?"
"I need a berth off planet," Shepard replied abruptly to the turian seated in one of ten bars in the Rat's Nest of Korlus City, surrounded by a crew that looked like they could handle themselves, "And I heard you had open spaces."
He was dark plated, his eyes a dark brown. The markings on his face were intricately white. He linked his three fingered hands and stared at her across the beaten surface of the table.
"I don't take passengers," his flanged voice was rough, "I am looking for new crew."
"I'm not planning on being a passenger," Shepard replied sharply, "I am willing to work."
"Oh? And just what is it you can do?"
"Whatever you need," she crossed her arms.
"I need another hired gun. And I need someone who will do what they are fucking told without screwing it up," the turian leaned back on his seat, glancing at the others who flanked him.
"What does your ship carry?" Shepard frowned.
"The cargo I take off others," the Captain drawled.
"You are pirates," she uttered flatly, "Sorry, I think I was given the wrong information. I don't deal with your kind."
"The others I refer to /are/ pirates," the Captain flared his mandibles in amusement, "Once in a while we hit a mining vessel to get supplies, but for the most part, those idiots flying around have more than enough."
"Isn't that..dangerous?" Shepard frowned warily.
"Not if I have the right crew," the Captain waved a hand around him, "Ex-military or ex-mercs, every single one of my crew are very well trained and very well paid. So which are you, ex-military or ex-mercenary?"
"Ex-pirate," Shepard's voice was flat and saw his eyes open with surprise.
"I don't deal with your sort either," the turian snapped a reply.
"Came by way of batarian slavers," Shepard shrugged, staring at the table top,
"Why pirates?"
The Captain paused thoughtfully, "Some day you will earn the right to ask that question...Ms...?"
"Shepard," she rocked back and forth on her toes.
"Astarus Hathar. Alright. You get one trip, unpaid. You don't fuck it up, and the others agree, you are on board," Captain Hathar nodded.
"Fair enough."
"Welcome aboard the Valkyrie, Ms Shepard. Report to my second in command, Mitchell Doelgar," the turian typed some instructions on his omnitool. Hers flared to life, "There. So our security doesn't try to take you down."
"So…what's your story, Shepard?" the hardened whiskey brown eyes of the dark haired first mate regarded their new recruit with interest. Mitchell Doelgar was a tough bastard. Skipped good-looking when he got three scars bar sinister across his features, but there was a certain rakish charm that kept the crew in line when the Captain went hard line.
"Is it a prerequisite of my employment that I tell you my story?" Shepard scooped up a mouthful of the stew that the cook had made. The last few days had seen the three new recruits put through paces that were laughably easy for her. The kid from Omega was shot on the first day when he drew on a crew second got a job as their new pilot. With her experience, Shepard was on the bridge as a radar/signal operator. Boring as hell, but she wasn't dead.
"It is if we are to trust you with a loaded weapon at our back," Doelgar drawled, "We aren't on the raggedy edge of the law for no reason, Shepard. There is a certain amount of trust we should have with each other."
Shepard paused thoughtfully, "Fair enough." She took another mouthful of potato and meat.
"I was imprisoned. Enslaved by batarians. Tortured. Sold. Killed innocents," the deep green eyes regarded the dark brown across the table, "Need references?"
Doelgar smiled, but the expression held no humour, clearly cynical of her list of credentials, "Killed your own crew?"
"Nope," Shepard chewed thoughtfully, "But they never trusted me to cover their backs." She scooped another spoonful.
"You planning on shooting us?" the voice was faint, disbelief melding into unease.
"You planning on hacking my implant to control me?" Shepard rose a pale red brow.
"Only if you shoot us," Doelgar muttered.
"Sounds fair," Shepard pursed her lips in an amused rictus, and shrugged, "In the interest of full disclosure, after a few years in prison, I could make a weapon out of a plastic fork."
"Cool," Doelgar drawled, "Should be good if we ever attack a diner on the Citadel."
"You should see my eggs over easy with a side of bacon," Shepard stabbed a forkful of beef and waved it to punctuated her statement.
Doelgar's laugh echoed throughout the room.
Shepard shot the pirate in the face. There was blood and cartilage that splattered over the wall behind him. She racked the reload, and turning, peppered shot over the next idiot to approach.
She slammed the butt into the chin of a third, before unloading in his chest. She kicked the legs out of a fourth and blew a hole in her metallic carapace. The remaining pirates put down their weapons and threw up their hands and surrendered.
Shepard stood breathing hard and started as Doelgar slapped her on the back, "Nice work, rookie."
"Fuck you," she grinned at him goodnaturedly.
"Anytime, Shepard," Doelgar drawled, holding his rifle at the ready over a pirate quavering in fear.
Shepard watched the unloading of cargo and saw the Captain nod at them to finish up.
Doelgar yawned, "Righto, time to disappear."
Shepard smiled and regarded the four men that knelt before them, "So...how many ships do you think these bastards jacked?" She tucked her shotgun into its holster and withdrew her pistol.
"Looking at the cargo, maybe...half dozen?" Doelgar ran his fingers over the terminal near him, bringing up the relevant information.
Shepard squatted in front of one of the pirates. A human too young to be this stupid. Her pistol jammed into the curve of his jaw, and she leaned forward, "How many people did you kill on those ships?"
"None! Honest!" the pirate replied, his jaw tense.
"Oh," Shepard crooned, her soft lips whispered, her breath tracing his hairless jaw, "Don't tell tales." Her pistol was insistent.
"Fucking shut up, kid," the ravaged voice of another pirate remonstrated the younger man. The companions either side of him were blood splattered and exhausted. Forced to kneel, they eyed Shepard and Doelgar as if they would like nothing better than to kill them both. Shepard's weapon made a small sound as she flicked off the safety.
"I just went along with them..." tears gathered in the young eyes, "Four, four ships. They...we...killed everyone."
"Good boy," Shepard kissed the edge of his mouth and he looked up at Doelgar, appeal for mercy on his pale, sweating face.
Shepard lengthened her arm and shot the oldest man bearing the tattoos and armour of the Exchange and showed no fear. His face disappeared in a smear of red. The kid howled and bent over his knees. His face grew red with crying. The pistol thundered twice more. Blood oozed in a spreading pool.
Shepard tucked the tip of her pistol under the kid's chin, "Hush now," her voice was mother soft, "You are getting a chance to change your life, kid."
"Shepard..." Doelgar's voice was warning. Green eyes sparked off brown. The brown eyes cast aside.
Shepard rested her hand on the wall above the kid's head and crowded his space. It might have been sensual, but the gun she still held at the ready, and the fingertips she used to force him to look into her eyes belied the gesture.
"You have made some very fucked up choices," she spoke bare millimetres above his lips, "Whoever lied to you and said this was a valid life choice should be shot."
The kid winced away and closed his eyes.
"Open your eyes and meet your fate like a fucking man..." Shepard snarled, gentleness snarling into whipcrack hardness in moments.
His dark eyes flew open.
Shepard kissed him on the lips, "Run, little rabbit," her voice was very soft, "Run far away."
The kid scrambled back, through the pool of blood, coating his hands and legs in its mire and huddled into a corner. Shepard chuckled, and after a moment stood. Doelgar joined her. When they went for the shuttle, he muttered, "What was all that horseshit in aid of, Shepard? We don't kill them..."
"They killed four ships worth of innocent crew," Shepard leaned her arm on Doelgar's shoulder, a nonchalant powerplay he allowed, "I call it justice. You seem worried."
Doelgar holstered his weapon and frowned sullenly, "Seems too much like vigilante bullshit."
Shepard drawled, "It is vigilantism. But it isn't bullshit. Bastards like them turned me into a murderer," she leaned forward and whispered softly. "I'm not keen on them doing that to anyone else."
"The Captain..." Doelgar began, shifting uncomfortably.
"Isn't here," Shepard traced his clenched jaw and smiled sweetly, "And the only way he is going to find out is if you tell him." She stepped forward and crowded his space. He eyed her warily. Her lips hovered over his.
"You planning on telling him?" a red brow rose in query.
"Shit..." Doelgar muttered, his eyes flicking to her lips despite himself.
Shepard smiled and stepped back, "Good."
Shepard racked the shotgun once to check the mechanism and dry fired it. Satisfied it was back together correctly, she put it up on her spot on the weapons rack. She turned and startled as Doelgar eyed her with suspicion.
"Hells, Mitch," Shepard growled, "You took two years off me."
"You scared the fuck out of me today too," his gruff features scowled.
"You look tough enough to handle it," Shepard crossed her arms and leaning against the bench, she curved her lips in a smirk.
"Look, the Captain fucking hates pirates and slavers. But he has never killed anyone who surrendered."
Shepard eyed him steadily, "Do you think the people of the ships they attacked surrendered?"
"I..." he paused. And frowned. "Why didn't you kill the kid?"
"Because I was him once,"
"What if he was lying?"
"Then I will hunt him down," Shepard shrugged, "But if someone had given me the chance I would have been gone."
"So you aren't quite the total hardass you pretend to be," Doelgar was mildly amused.
Shepard straightened and when she walked past him, he caught her arm. Her eyes flashed dangerously.
"It's a dangerous game you are playing though, Shepard," Doelgar murmured, his expression enigmatic.
Shepard looked down at the hand curved over her bicep, "Right back at you."
He stepped forward so they stood toe to toe. He was only a few inches taller than she, but she was unafraid and met her gaze. Her eyes narrowed, and she leaned forward, her lips slanting over his own. His hand loosened and slid across to splay over her lower back. She curved a hand into the folds of his shirt and yanked him closer.
After a minute or two, they broke apart. Her eyes were luminous as they regarded him thoughtfully.
"Fuck, Shepard," Doelgar muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face.
"Just wanted to test that out," Shepard replied, and stepped back. His arm dropped.
"Did you come to a conclusion?" he rubbed the back of his neck.
"Softer than a turian," she smiled, headed out of the armoury without a backward glance.
"Fuck," he repeated, and adjusted his pants. He paused. Wait? Turian?
The months that followed saw her through the some of the best months of her life. She found a place in the crew, they accepted her, looked to her during boarding. And if she took a few extra risks, killed a few more pirates or slavers than necessary, then it a blind eye was turned, and the Captain pretended he didn't know.
Shepard eyed the ship through the port side window. It was hulking and grey. Unmarked and unnamed. Slavers. A muscle beneath her eye twitched. Armed and armoured she cut a lean, formidable figure as she stalked through the confines of the ship to the boarding vessel. They would cut across with a team and get through to the bridge and allow the Valkyrie to link up.
When she boarded the squat craft with the half dozen others, she could feel the touch at her side and flicked a glance over. Doelgar stood, bulky and solid in his battered armour. He was staring resolutely at the display screen, scrolling information about proximity and speed. She murmured softly, "I hope like hell the numbers are right."
"Captain's rarely wrong. His tech guy said they were running low crew out of the Traverse. A handful of prisoners bound for the slave markets."
"Why does the Captain give a shit?" Shepard frowned.
"He's paid to," Doelgar clenched his hands around his weapon.
"Paid...by who?"
Doelar glanced at her then, "It's...complicated."
Shepard grunted with annoyance, "Thanks for vaguing that up for me."
"Look...you know how the Alliance have ops teams that kinda skate the other side of what's all bright, shiny and in front of the cameras?"
"Well, sure," Shepard shrugged, "You telling me the Captain is in the pay of the turian hierarchy?"
Doelgar's features twitched, "Not..precisely."
Shepard elbowed him and he grunted.
"Look, he will tell you when and if he trusts you. We get the prisoners off, get them down into the hold until we can process them and get them back home. Don't fuck around with this, Shepard."
Shepard smiled sweetly, "I never fuck around."
"My ass," Doelgar muttered.
"And a fine one it is," Shepard activated her weapon and cast a grin at him as she slammed her helmet visor into place for the cross to the slaver ship.
He blushed. Just a little.
Shepard slammed into low cover, breathing hard. Someone had fucked up. Bad. This place was teeming with guards, and now they were cut off from the shuttle. They had cut through almost to the bridge, but they had lost two of their men. Doelgar hit the wall beside her and grunted.
"Shit," he muttered, "This has gone to crap."
"Come on," Shepard grinned up at him, her face blood splattered, "You can tell your grandkids you were a superhero who saved hot young women from big bad slavers."
"At this rate I won't have kids, let alone grandkids," he yanked her back as a concussion grenade sailed past and exploded several feet away and a blast from a shotgun blew apart her cover.
"Thanks," Shepard murmured, pressed with her back to his chest as they used the pillar for cover, "There are three of them down there. I'm gonna charge. You keep them down."
"Shit, Shepard," Doelgar protested.
She grinned at him, an internal fire turning her eyes a shimmering emerald. He gripped the back of her neck and yanked her for a hard, fast kiss. After a few surprised seconds, she slapped a hand to his chest and pulled back.
"Not now, asshole!" she hissed.
"Take it when I can get it," he drawled.
Shepard shook her head, "Ready?"
"Yes, ma'am," he racked his rifle and lifted it, "Go."
The next few seconds were a pulsepounding explosion of light and sound as the corridor filled with violence. Blood streaked the walls as Shepard swung, fired, kicked, fired again. Ducked, rolled, and finally stood gasping for breath in the silence. She glanced back down the corridor.
"Clear!"
The three remaining team members stepped out, rifles raised at the ready.
"Mitch?" Shepard moved back down the corridor. Her crew stood looking down at the ground. He was slumped back against the hull of the corridor, blood smearing his chest.
"Shep...ard..." he gasped, his fingers twitching on his gun.
"Hey," she crouched in front of him, and touched his cheek gently, sadness in her eyes, "Hang on. We are nearly out. Just got one room."
Doelgar's fingertips smeared blood over the armour of her wrist, but he was too weak to grip. Shepard wrapped her hand in his.
"Crazy...woman," he muttered, his eyes half closed and glazing, "I should have kept you...in my bed...this morning."
"I should have let you," she smiled sadly and leaned forward and kissed his brow. She smoothed back his hair and he died.
She stood slowly and swiped a hand across her jaw. She turned to look at the remaining three crew.
"Let's go," her voice was hard, eyes glittering with rage.
The crew in the bridge lay dead or dying. Shepard was merciless. She shot the pilot in the back of the head, shoved him from his seat and took control of the ship.
"Shepard?" one of her team called out to her warily, "We got something interesting."
"I'm not really in the mood for 'interesting', Bannon," Shepard replied sharply to the human ex-mercenary.
"No, seriously," the female turian handed Shepard a datapad. There was footage streaming constantly from a video feed. It was a woman. Unconscious. Heavily tattooed, shaved and pierced. Stunningly beautiful. Shepard frowned.
"Captive?"
"Must be," Nara, the turian, typed into the terminal near her, "The signal is coming from the hold."
"Let's get the Valkyrie hooked up," Shepard turned back to her controls, "Then get the captives off."
"Yes, ma'am," Nara nodded sharply.
Jareq, their other surviving squad member, muttered when they were alone, "Will you report to the Captain about Doelgar?"
"Yes," Shepard replied bluntly, "I fucked up. I will own responsibility for that one."
"Captain?" Shepard stood before Hathar a few hours later. Her armour was bloodied and rent with damage. She stood stiff and her gaze steady upon his own.
"What happened to Mitchell?" the Captain asked, his hands linking firmly before him and eyeing her with a sharp gaze. Even with the usual turian stoicism, she could tell he was troubled.
"We were cut off from the shuttle and decided to make a run straight for the bridge. They were bunked down, and to get them out, I got Mitch to cover me while I charged in. I got them, but not before one of them took him out. I should have waited. Should have made a better plan."
"Sit, Shepard," Hathar gestured toward the seat across from him. He poured a drink and set it before her. She stared at it uneasily before picking it up in fingers still stained with dried blood. She sat.
"How long have you been with us?" he asked softly.
"Little under a year..." Shepard frowned, trying to recall, "I guess?"
"You are respected."
"I..suppose."
"It wasn't a question," Hathar sat himself down and lifted his own drink up but did not sip, "Mitchell was a good man. He was fair, tough and good with a gun."
"He was," Shepard acknowledged, her knuckles whitening on her lap as she clenched a fist. She kept her expression impassive.
"I know you two were sleeping together. I'm sorry he died on you. So, drink with me in memory of him," Hathar held up his glass and tapped it against hers, "To Mitchell Doelgar."
Shepard paused, her hand clenching around the glass, but drank simultaneously and set the half emptied vessel down, "Yeah. Mitch." Her voice was thick for a moment. She cleared her throat.
"You can ask why I attack pirates and slavers, Shepard," Hathar lowered his own glass and tapped a talon on the edge.
Shepard glanced up, startled, "Uhh...why...them, sir?"
"I was in C-Sec. Went there to ...I don't know...fulfill my service obligation, I suppose. The corruption there...gods. It's no better than Omega, just a little better dressed and with worse music," Hathar stood and walked to the large window that graced his cabin. He pressed the skyview panel and the vast star dotted velvety darkness appeared before them, "I was a bodyguard to the turian councillor. An invisible shape in the background. So invisible they would forget I even existed and conduct business right before me. He was corrupt. He was sending information to slavers, letting them know when new colonies were being set up, prisons being repopulated..." a shrug, "And he was paid stupendous amounts of money."
"So..." Shepard frowned, "How did that get you here?"
"I got tired of it. I saw the lists of colonists. I saw the news reports. I wanted to talk to someone. I tried. The guy tried to investigate, but...he disappeared out in the Traverse somewhere," Hathar rubbed the back of his neck under the fringe, "So I quit. I got the Valkyrie. And hired on a crew that could be paid for their loyalty, or they actually believed in my crazy idea." His mandibles fluttered thoughtfully, "This was...huh, twenty three years ago. Since then, I have picked up jobs, some legit, some not...and taken down every pirate vessel or slaver I could."
"People just aren't that altruistic," Shepard's voice was cynical.
"Oh, it's made me damn rich," Hathar admitted drily, "Rich enough to retire."
"I don't follow."
"I'm done. I was weary before Mitchell was killed. He was going to take over from me as the Valkyrie's new captain. You. I want you at the helm now. I know what you went through at their hands. I want to go and ...buy a big house on Palaven and enjoy the sunsets and the illgotten gains."
Shepard stood and moved over to stand next to Hathar. He looked down at her, "You are just handing me the Valkyrie?" She was wary, still disbelieving.
"I want someone out here doing what they can to stop people doing what they did to you," Hathar replied, and gripped her upper arm with his own, "I give you the Valkyrie, but you will find it comes with a hefty price."
"I don't have any money," Shepard replied sharply, stepping back, disappointment clouding her vision.
"I don't want money, foolish literal minded human," Hathar laughed, "And I will leave you enough to keep her going until you can hire on crew, and take down a few pirates. The price I ask, is that you never, ever attack anyone who does not deserve it."
Shepard snorted, "You attacked mining ships!"
"True," Hathar admitted, "You have heard the phrase 'Do what I say, not what I do'?"
Shepard gave a soft laugh.
"That is the price, Shepard," Hathar held out his hand, "You drop me off on Palaven once we divest ourselves of those poor souls down below, and you take over as the Captain of the Valkyrie."
"I want to rename her," Shepard replied suddenly.
"Your ship, your name. Who should I watch out for?"
Shepard gripped his hand firmly, "The Monte Cristo."