Full Title: All the Words Are Gonna Bleed From Me and I Will Think No More

Archangel Base
Second Floor, Garrus's Room

Garrus's com buzzed at his wrist, rousing him from slumber. At this hour, either it was a dire emergency at Nalah's clinic or Jane. Two calls he would never ignore. Normally. He'd heard from Jane a few nights back, ecstatic over her acceptance into Urdnot. And he admitted, a bit guiltily, that when he saw the ID, he hesitated. After all, it had been a grueling day chasing down Tarak's home address, followed by meticulous planning for the attack. But something spurred him, prompting him to answer. What greeted him painted a very different picture from the other night. It was just her voice. But it was chilling.

Four Days Prior

Jane was sitting on Wrex's shoulder, dripping green and giggling like an asari schoolgirl. Whatever amusement was going on, Wrex wasn't immune. His impressive frame was rocked with laughter.

"Iss it working now?"

"I think so. No. Wait…. I forget which hic button to press."

"Oh my godsssssssss let me try."

Garrus sat up, sleep still creeping in the corners. "Are you two … drunk? What's going on?"

"Wanted you to see Urdnot's newest member!" Wrex roared so loud he felt it in his brow plate. It was way too early for this crap.

"What are you covered in? Green… goo?"

Jane swayed against his hump. "It's the color of URDNOT. I'm URDNOT JANE now. Wrex sayss I get a Klixxen egg now too. Another battle friend!"

"There are so many things about that sentence that don't make sense."

"It's my reward for winning a mighty battle against WREAV. And a thresssher maw."

Something else to add to the list of things he'd never tell Nalah. The connection cut out right as Jane slid off his hump. Wrex caught her by the ankle, and she swayed momentarily, a lazy smile spreading across her face.

She had been so happy… more krogan than any human he'd ever encountered, but happy.

Now her voice sounded hollow, distant. It cut through the static like a knife, reaching between the plates, and wrenching in his chest. He didn't like that sound, whatever it was contrasted wildly against his image of her. Vibrant. Full of color and life.

"Could you just…" Her voice caught again. So raw. A bubble of emotion. It was gone faster than his sleep-addled brain could catch. "Talk to me?"

"About?"

"Anything. I just wanted to hear your voice." The words slurred together. "I'm ssorry … I'm bothering you aren't I?" He didn't need visual to see that same door slamming shut. It was in every arduous word. Every harsh breath. And if this was a vid-call, he was certain he'd spot her finger centimeters from the 'end' button.

"No! Of course not. Just let me get my bearings." The response was automatic, and he was filled with gratitude that he hadn't ignored this call. He wasn't certain what had happened, or if he should ask. But it was big, whatever it was. Fumbling through his mind for a topic, it settled on his father. Their most recent conversation. Angry, harsh words. Was that appropriate? Did it matter? The silence stretched on as his sleep-addled mind clutzed around. "Heard from my family a few days ago."

"Oh? You never talked about them."

Knowing Jane, she probably thought his story was equally as tragic. Filled with blood, fire, and final moments. "There's a reason for that. I… don't really get on well with my father. He's all but disowned me. My sister's cool though."

"No mom?" She paused. "Sorry. If I'm not supposed to ask, or if you don't want to answer, just ignore it."

"It's alright. I have a mom. But… she's sick. Very sick. It's called Corpalis Syndrome. Suffice to say she doesn't remember me anymore, or anyone really. Sometimes she has lucid moments, and recognizes dad. But that's about it."

"That's… I'm really sorry Garrus."

"Ehh. It is what it is."

They were silent for a time, but it was comfortable. He leaned into the pillows listening to her breathing. Her throat still shuddered with an unknowable distress. Shallow. Uneven. And she was clearly inebriated. Yet it wasn't like before, that gleeful, celebratory drunk that greeted him the other night. And his mounting concern got the better of him. "Did … did something happen? Are you okay?"

"What me? I'm fine." A toneless laugh. Sharp turian hearing caught the quiver, the anxiety creeping around it. "Why would you think I'm not okay?"

"You can tell me anything, you know that right?"

She fell to silence again. The only sound between them were her jittering inhalations. A clack of teeth. Was she outside? Was she cold? Her voice was so soft when she spoke again, almost a whisper. "You're… on my side."

"What? Jane of course I am." Now he was worried. Had someone hurt her?

"Could… could you say it?"

"I'm on your side. I won't let anyone hurt you… well as much as I can from this distance."

"And you killed Krapo. I watched you strangle him. So I know, but… could you say that too?"

Oh . That was the Captain of the Ubralle wasn't it? He'd gone over the manifest later that day, in case the Alliance had questions. That day. The day he found her. That sick room, coagulated red smeared across the floor, on the chains, small handprints on the rails. Her handprints . Memory of the smell alone sent shivers up his spine. "I killed Krapo. That bastard is dead."

"He's dead." Her voice was hollow.

The heart of the matter was stark, made the room feel a little emptier. "That's right. Krapo is nothing now. Dead as dead can get. I strangled the life out of him."

"I bet your talons sank in at the end. Right through his skin, sank in deep. Bet he choked red and through the holes as he died."

This was going somewhere strange. But could he really blame her? Would he want, no need, anything different? "I tore his throat out. He gasped through a hole in his neck at the end." It wasn't true, he was wearing armored gloves that day. Yet she seemed to enjoy the fantasy.

"Ooh. That's a nice touch." Her voice was a little lighter. "Steel Predator."

"Steel what?"

A soft chuckle. "Did I say that out loud?"

"You most certainly did."

"It's nothing."

His voice dropped. A low rumble. A teasing note. "You're not getting out of it that easy. What was that?"

"It's…" She paused. "It's what I thought when I first saw you. I had never seen anything like you before. And I thought, The Steel Predator, my death coming to call."

He always suspected she had witnessed the fight, and that it had scared the living shit out of her, but the confirmation brought him a surprising amount of dismay. "Jane, I'm real sorry about that. I never meant to scare you. If I could go back..."

"Oh! I didn't mean it as a bad thing." She cut him off. Hasty words loaded with meaning. "I didn't mean it as a bad thing at all . I was...well… I knew you were different. That you wouldn't…" Whatever she was going to say died in her throat - a strangled, uneasy sound. "Sometimes I have to shake myself a little," Her voice gave out, nothing but a whisper between the teeth. "To remember you're on my side."

"That's right. I'm on your side. And you can call me anytime. I'll tell you that as many times as you need to hear. No one is ever going to hurt you like that again. And if someone tries, I'll do worse than strangle them."

"I miss you." The words tumbled out. Quickly followed up with the other half of a thought. "And the rest of the guys."

"You can always come back. You know that right?"

"I know. It's not always easy here. Okay. It's never easy. But… I can see how it's good for me. I .. I'm starting to like the person I am, or at least tolerate her."

He wasn't meant to hear that last bit. That was the thing about talking to other species. They never quite grasped how sharp turian hearing was. And Jane was someone who murmured under her breath. Words she didn't mean to say aloud. Hidden meaning meant for her alone. Not knowing what to say, and not wanting to reveal all his secrets, he let it slide for the moment. This tragic image she had of herself. "You could always visit. Then head back… well, actually, we'd have to figure out transportation wouldn't we?"

"I'd like that." Her voice lilted like a ray of sun. "But yeah, I guess Cerberus is still after me huh? Not that I'm afraid of those dolts."

"You're still being careful though right?"

"I'd honestly pay to see Cerberus try and take on the krogan… but yes I'm being careful. I guess. You're the only person I talk to off-planet so… yeah. I'm not sure what being reckless would even look like."

"When Anderson's back, I'll talk to him. Maybe we can figure something out so you won't be so … stuck in life." If he's even alive. A despondent thought. Protecting Jane without someone high-ranking in the Alliance would be borderline impossible, unless she was content to hide among other species for the rest of her days.

She didn't seem to understand that. And his heart broke a little on her behalf. To her, she was living the good life, having known mostly pain and sorrow. Something like being incapable of travel, a grave burden to the average galactic citizen, seemed trite to her. They spoke a bit longer, over much less heady topics. Mainly the squad. How close they were to avenging Ripper's friend came up. Along with an update on how the Butlers were getting on. They were considering selling their old place and moving into the base full time. Jane seemed to drift off towards the end. He could hear the exhaustion set in, along with a good bit of shivering. When she promised to go back inside and sleep off the vodka, they ended the call.

It was close enough to his normal waking hour, that Garrus knew he wouldn't be getting any more sleep that night. Although, he was grateful Jane had reached out to him, regardless of the hour. She sounded brighter by the time they hung up, and it lifted his own spirit hearing that. The months of silence had been more trying than he expected. And now her violin was gone - shipped alongside the latest care package Nalah arranged. There was a vacant, speckless space where it once sat. A reminder that she'd found a new home.

Garrus pulled the covers back and checked the time, 03:52. At least it wasn't that early. He'd be up in an hour anyhow, and there was a bowl of BlastOhs with his name on it.

The base was largely quiet, aside from Krul who was fiddling with one of his drones, cursing under his breath.

"Early morning or late night?"

"Bit of both," The batarian moaned, tossing a magnifying glass and screwdriver on the table. "Never get old Garrus. I can't even see this shit."

He paused, staring at Krul. Something about his conversation with Jane pulling at the edges. The thought hit him blearily, still shaking off the last remnants of sleep. It was a topic he'd been turning over in his mind for quite some time, he just couldn't find the words. The words that would lead him to see the truth, not dismiss him as crazy or taken in by Saren. But if that tiny woman, who'd been through so much abuse, could pull her life together then he could risk losing Krul's respect - if only to give him the burden of truth.

"What the fuck are you looking at? Been up since two Garrus. I'm not in the mood for whatever you've got going on …"

"Spirits man, you do know how to discombobulate a guy, you know that?" Garrus pulled up a chair. If he was going to do it, he may as well peel the plate off and treat the infection. "If you could weaponize that, you might solve a looming problem. One that… you really need to know about. Look, I consider you to be the leader of the batarian people, not the Hegemony. And there are things you should be aware of. Honestly, I should've told you a long time ago. But it's all highly classified. Yet, you deserve to know the truth. Hell, you need to know."

For once, Garrus seemed to have struck the batarian speechless. When he spoke, it was very deliberate, almost guarded. "Alright, you have my attention."

"There's a war coming. A big one."

All four eyes rolled in unison. "Is that it? A war? Fucking hell, this galaxy's always at war. Tell me something I don't know."

Challenge accepted .

"There's a race of sentient starships coming to harvest all advanced life. It's one of the reasons I didn't think twice about harboring you. The entire galaxy is about to change, and I doubt any space-faring civilization will survive. Not even the Hierarchy. They wiped out the protheans. They constructed the mass relays… I… would need to pull up my notes. But I can give you some direct quotes from when we spoke with one. One of the machines that is."

Krul rubbed the back of his head, while shooting him a couple dubious glances. "You haven't eaten one of Ripper's brownies have you? Those things will send you on a trip, let me tell ya. I mixed one up with Nalah's cookies last week. Shit hit me like a ton of bricks. Pretty sure I would've believed anything as real when it hit its peak. Even those ridiculous sci-fi movies Butler watches."

"I'm dextro how would that even… Dammit. I'm explaining it wrong. Let me get my notes."

Upon returning, he tossed the notepad onto the table, it slid across the smooth surface coming to a halt in front of Krul. "Paper? It's not on your omni-tool?"

"It used to be. Parts are. But we couldn't trust this information to tech."

Now that caught his attention. "That well classified huh?"

"Sort of."

At the very least, Krul seemed to be considering his outlandish claims. So, that was something. "The geth haven't evolved that far, have they? I'll be honest, I was a little… preoccupied with my civil war."

"It's not the geth. Although, they revere them as some sort of gods. The protheans called them reapers." Garrus paused. "Well, you aren't calling me crazy. Yet. Even if you do, please just hear me out. I'm gonna try drawing one while you read up."

For a few minutes, the only sounds were the scratching of pencil and paper.

"Look, this doesn't really tell me much. It reads like a script for one." Krul's voice dipped. "Rudimentary creatures of blood and flesh muhaha. I mean, you can program a VI to say all iihis and more. Sure it wasn't a prank? I used to pull all sorts of shit like that." Seeing the look Garrus shot him, he sighed. "No one ever likes my impressions. Anyway, I know you well enough by now to see a good head on your shoulders. I'll admit, this is a little out there. And I'm still not convinced you haven't had a brownie."

"I'd die! I'd literally die, man."

"But…I'll hear you out." Krul thrumbed his fingers against the table, deep in thought. "Did this have something to do with Shepard?"

"It's what his mission was actually about - stopping the reapers. They can… alter minds somehow. Force people to do their bidding. Saren was just a puppet."

"That makes more sense. I know better than to swallow the official story. And even if I wasn't, his face spelled trouble in the interviews. Somethin' big was going on."

"Wait… were you… following his career?"

"I was actually." A sideways glance. "I tend to keep up to date with rising military stars who sound as though they bathe in batarian blood after a hearty breakfast."

"He wasn't that bad…" Garrus started. But he was mainly focused on his paltry attempt at sketching Sovereign. Drawing had never been a strong point.

Yet, Krul continued as if he hadn't heard a word. The man was certainly used to being the one who did the talking. "I'm not trying to insult the guy. I know you two were...friends or whatever. But men like that can do a lot of damage. Shepard was an inspirational leader with the history to back up his convictions. He made a career out of putting down batarian slavers. Batarian in particular. He advocated for war against Kar'Shan from the very start of his career. I read a 12 page dissertation he wrote in the Academy. The whole thing centered on why the Alliance should consider dropping a series of megaton nukes on my homeworld. And it was a damn convincing argument, poignant even. I can see where he gets his… convictions… but Kar'Shan is my home. And the batarians, my people. No matter what atrocities we may have committed. Part of the reason I argue against slavery is that it's turned the galaxy against us. "

"But not because it's wrong?" The pencil snapped in his talons. And he went digging through the pen holder for another. No way could he attempt this without an eraser. Or five. "You still say this, even after meeting Jane. I just don't…"

"Fucking hell. Let a man finish." Krul flapped his hand a few inches from Garrus's mandibles. "I didn't say that! Look, you don't change years of generational thinking on a coin. That takes time. A shitload of time. I had to recruit fighters for a cause. We didn't always agree, but that's the way of things."

"Fine whatever. We're getting off-topic." Any other day, he'd argue over the abolition of slavery until blue-face set in. But he needed to make him understand, make him see the truth. Garrus laid out everything they learned about the reapers then. With Jane, he felt like he was unburdening himself while helping her envision a clearer picture of her brother. But now he was trying to reconstruct classified, and largely ignored, reports submitted to the council. Tonight, he was not a commander. Tonight, he was appealing to the leader of an entire race.

He finished within minutes, aghast. They knew so little about this enemy.

"I've seen and heard a lot of crazy shit in my life." Krul began. "It doesn't sound so implausible. Especially after one considers what happened with the quarians, and the fact that the council is happy to sit on its ass while a bunch of rogue AI evolve into fuck-knows-what. Who's to say it hasn't happened before? An old enough AI would be akin to a god. It's chilling when you get into the science of it. And if I believe even half of this conversation," He pointed to the notepad bearing Sovereign's words, "That thing believes itself to be a god."

Garrus broke another pencil. "Damn it! How does Jane even do this?"

"Five fingers have its advantages. Never seen a turian who could draw, or create any type of art really. Do you guys have any fun? Or is all just reciting that oddly measured anthem of yours and target practice?"

"Nothing's wrong with it! Good beat, driven rhythm. Really gets the troops moving."

"Uh huh. That has got to be the most robotic excuse for music I've ever heard. Now if the geth made it, I'd understand a bit more..."

"You're an ass."

"Sure, sure. Let me know when you're done with that. Maybe I will have defied batarian physiology by then and grown a beard."

Garrus shoved his haphazard sketch Krul's way. "That's about as good as it's gonna get."

At first he was annoyed enough that, when Krul held it up to the light to study it, he genuinely thought the batarian was mocking him. Then he realized the man was simply trying to figure out what he was looking at. He groaned. "Here, give it back, I'll label it."

"Just tell me what's what… you don't have to draw a whole fucking diagram."

"Alright," He pointed to the six, insectile formations. "These are the legs. And this blob thing is the body. They have a laser right about here, and…"

Krul cut him off. "Alright, got the general… shape… I think. What are these squiggly things?"

"Oh that, right. I'm trying to convey that the legs are thick. Like, really thick. You know, oh what's her name, that asari who's famous for going on perpetual yo-yo diets? The talk show host!"

The look Krul shot him held an entire lifetime of amusement and sarcasm all at once. "Yes Garrus. I totally watch whatever-the-fuck trash that is, tissues and all."

"My mom used to watch it and it's a metaphor! The legs sort of reminded me of that."

"So, she has reaper legs?"

"Now you're doing it on purpose."

He held it up to the light again, eyes narrowed in concentration. After he turned it around for the third time, Garrus started to wonder what the point was. Even if he could draw a perfect Sovereign, would Krul know the difference? The batarian smoothed the paper across the surface, before uncouthly snatching the pencil from his talons, and sketching something himself. "Dammit. I need some color. He departed the kitchen, walked into Jane's room and returned with her entire desk drawer, dumping its contents on the table. Pens, pencils, and assorted sketchbooks crashed against each other before rolling to the floor.

"Not disrespectful in the least." Garrus griped.

"It's not like she's using it." Krul was hard at work now. Pen gliding over the paper. Garrus was kneeling on the floor, gathering Jane's wayward belongings when Krul shoved his completed work of art in his face. "It's a long shot… but… tell me this isn't what you saw. That this isn't the same thing as Sovereign."

But there was no mistaking it. Jet black metal. A glowing red orb nestled between six legs. A reaper . Mandibles clenched tightly to his face, he opened his mouth to answer. But the message had been received. They gaped at one another for a solid minute. And he saw something cross Krul's face he never had before - raw, unadulterated fear. There was nothing but silence between them. Minds spinning. Another reaper? And Krul encountered it? How? When?

A loud clang startled Garrus from their mutual trance, and brought him back to the present. Ripper had meandered into the kitchen, poured himself a bowl of cornflakes, and plopped into a vacant chair. With his feet propped up on the table, he leaned back, chomping on his breakfast. White dribbled from the corners of his mouth. "So, we's hittin' Tarak where it hurts soon, yeah? Cuz wooweeh baby I gots an axe to grind with him."

Krul didn't even flinch, simply stared at the paper, lost. This was supposed to be Ripper's big day - the day they'd finally go after Tarak. The man who killed his best friend. Yet, Grundan's world had just been shattered. It didn't take a translator to see that. "We're going to need a bit more prep. Scout with Melenis today, then rifle practice later this evening."

"Aye now, when we's hittin' 'em?"

"Soon. Alright? Very soon. I've got some stuff to wrap up with Krul that can't wait. And there's no such thing as being over prepared."

Ripper glowered, but seemed to understand. He left to pry Melenis, who was still adjusting to the team's schedule, out of bed without fuss.

Garrus turned back to Krul who was staring blankly into nothing. "Want to move this to my room? We'll have more privacy."

Their eyes met. Watery black to sharp blue. He nodded, and Garrus led the way.

Krul situated himself at the end of the bed, elbows to knees, head in his hands. "I… I need to know about this indoctrination shit. How does it happen? How long does it take?"

"We don't know."

"Fucking hell. Give me something! Give me anything!"

"An asari scientist said the ship emits a type of signal that alters brain waves."

"Does it spread? From one person to another? Can it infect people?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"I need to contact them. And I need every technically minded eye to help me do it. The Hegemony's spent two years waiting for something like this."

"How about you slow down and tell me when and how you even encountered a reaper."

Krul rubbed at his legs. It'd been months since he shed the chair, but the old stiffness set in from time to time. Or perhaps, it simply became a nervous habit. Maybe a bit of both. "About twenty or so years ago, the Hegemony encountered a massive, derelict ship. Dubbed it the Leviathan of Dis. They towed it back to Kar'Shan for study, trying to reverse engineer the tech. This thing that you claim can control people, override minds. The fucking Hegemony has one sitting smack in the middle of the capitol." His voice pitched. "Fucking hell, if that wasn't enough I had, still have, moles on that team...They work inside that thing all the time."

"And you're worried about them reaching the Resistance."

"Some already have. I reintegrated half the team before the attack."

"Hey, hey man it's gonna be okay. We'll figure this out." Garrus had inched closer, settling a hand on the batarian's shoulder. However, unlike Jane, the man did not appreciate the contact.

Krul shoved him off, bellowing. "The fuck are you gonna do? You're a damn kid! I'm stuck on this shit station. And even if I weren't, I'm… I'm too old to start the Resistance over from scratch. It can't die… I… it can't. Sure it might've taken decades to rebuild, but my second has the tools to do so. But this? This could end everything . Do you understand? My whole species."

Not knowing what else to do, he turned to the topic at hand. "You said the ship was … derelict?"

"Yeah. The whole thing's defunct."

"Wait, you haven't been around that thing have you?"

"Hell no. Doesn't matter how much plastic surgery a man has, if I set foot in Aghopor, the whole government will descend on my head. Those fucking drones are keyed to my DNA. But you didn't answer. Well, suppose I forgot to ask. Can that thing indoctrinate while it's... dead?"

"I have no idea."

Krul breathed in. Out. In. Out. An exercise clearly intended to steady himself. "Alright. I need to contact them. Today. You still have that FTL data drone right?"

"After how much that thing cost, I might request being buried with it. Just tell me what you need."

"Gather everyone with technical expertise. Sensat for sure. And Mierin dabbled in engineering, if he'll help."

"He was there when Jane told us about you. He'll help."

Garrus left to round up their reinforcements and let the rest of the team in on the change of plans. He returned to find Krul had disassembled the device to run a copper-looking wire through the base. He caught a square chip - almost invisible to the naked eye at the wire's tip. And he wondered at its function. In college, he'd received top scores in math and physics, and became an expert at the omni-tool's combat capabilties. Yet, whatever Krul was up to was beyond him.

For thirty minutes Garrus, Sensat, and Mierin hung back waiting for the moment Krul needed them. Their omni-tools were synced and ready to repel any hacking attempts. Garrus found himself wishing Tali were around. It was an intricate, nerve wracking endeavor. As Krul liked to remind him, the Hegemony had been waiting for such a moment - an opportunity to trace Resistance headquarters, to stamp out the last bit of rebellion against their empire. Even Krul didn't know their location. Everything was shrouded in secrecy. And this one call could blow that to hell.

Of all people, Mierin was excited. He clearly wanted to hear from the enigmatic group. After Jane enlightened them to the batarians' plight, he'd grown accommodating of Krul and his acerbic nature. Sensat too was thrumming with anxiety, but it was held in check in a manner that belied experience. Adding to the surmounting evidence that he'd spent time as an STG operative.

Finally, Krul motioned them forward. They sat in a circle with him in the center, the FTL data drone humming contentedly. "Alright. It's done. I can only contact them once, then they will shut down the receiving frequency. Permanently. I need you three to monitor the call for any hacking attempts and counteract them. I'll be keeping an eye out as well, but I'll also be talking to my second, relaying critical orders, and assessing the situation. I'm not naive enough to think I can do both without compromising my focus. Understand?"

"We got you Krul." Garrus reassured. Followed by Mierin and Sensat's words of encouragement.

The batarian sighed. "Here goes nothing." With the press of a button, he reached across the vast expanse of space. The line trilled. His fist clenched. Twelve rings before, finally, someone answered.

"Is this… hello? Is that you?" The voice pitched at the end. A hint of youth. "Ikalem ?"

"The fuck are you doin' on this channel boy? Where's Usogar?"

"Gods it really is you."

"Where's Usogar? He's supposed to be the one monitoring…"

"He's dead."

Garrus had no idea who Usogar was, but Krul's reaction spoke of someone of vast importance. Someone critical. The man gaped. Fingers dragging over all four eyes. A hiss between pointed teeth. If Garrus thought he took the news of the reapers hard, it was nothing in comparison to this. "How…"

"Grasvin went crazy. Walked up and shot him in the back of the head. Right in front of us. All while babbling about the second coming and the ascension of the batarian people to godhood. Then he … snapped back to normal. Claimed he would never do such a thing." A raspy gasp. "I almost believed him, that he didn't remember. We threw him in a cell, not knowing what to do. He slammed his head against the wall, over and over and over - killing himself. We found him dead the next morning."

Four desperate eyes met his own. No need for words to construe the question. Garrus nodded. The story rang with familiarity. The salarians on Virmire. Some turned on the others. Some killed themselves in a fit of insanity.

Sensat motioned for his attention. A virus was trying to worm its way through their encryption. "Countermeasures deployed. But they're trying to get through our firewalls. Talk fast."

"We can come get you!" The disembodied voice asserted. "Just send over your coordinates. We need you. We need you more than ever."

"No. Listen to me."

"Ikalem... I don't… I don't know what I'm doing."

"Three minutes." Garrus interjected, letting them know the hackers were a hair away from their prize.

Krul's speech hastened. Words flying together. One after another. "Neither did I when I started. But I can't stay long, or we risk being traced. So, listen up."

There was a murmur of ascent but no real words.

"That ancient ship…. That thing the Hegemony has on Kar'Shan."

"Leviathan?"

"That's the one. You and all our people need to stay away from it, at any cost. And anyone who has interacted with the thing needs to be put down. We can't risk indoctrinated agents in our ranks. That ship can override mental functions. I don't have time to get into it. But that's what happened to Grasvin."

"That's … isn't that a little extreme?"

"We deal in extremes every day, boy. Do it. Execute every Leviathan team member, fast and quiet. And remember that this is our answer. While the cost is high, freedom for the batarian people is within your grasp."

"What are you on about?"

"My last order. I want all offensive actions against the Hegemony ended. The reapers will take care of those fools, and the Resistance will rise from their ashes. We won the day they dragged that thing back to batarian space. Leviathan of Dis is their doom. Your mission is to smuggle as many people as you can manage off of Kar'Shan. If we don't get enough off-planet before the reapers arrive, the batarian race will go extinct. Absolutely none who've so much as passed through Aghopor in the last two decades though. None. Hear me?"

"I'm… the leader of the Resistance. That's what you're saying isn't it?"

"In a sense. The men will look to you now. You're a soldier, trained by me. You are ready. I took care of the traitors, they won't trouble you. But my fighting days are over. Returning will only endanger the mission. The Hegemony knows which space station I'm on. They're watching outgoing traffic like a penaska on the prowl. Only your right hand can know about my survival. Let the rest be fueled by their rage. Is Cramye still alive?"

"Yes."

"Let her lead from the shadows. She has a good head. Listen to her advice. Tell her of my survival. And only her."

"Ikalem..."

"This is how it has to be. Your time has come. The new generation needs to take the reins."

"I…. understand."

"Believe it Prenk. You can do this, never doubt that. I...I have to go."

He hung up abruptly, with a mere thirty seconds to spare. Slow, even breaths.

"It sounds like he has things in hand." Garrus tried only for Krul to snap, harsh words. Rage rattling through his chest.

"That kid's an idiot."

"Then why…"

"He's all I've got left Garrus. We just won the war. But we're about to lose the cause. I don't know how to fix this." The batarian practically ran from the room. His stiff, uneven gait slowed him down long enough for the squad to catch his following sentence. "Leave me. I… need to be alone."

A/N: As promised, here is the synopsis of chapter 99 along with some of my own ramblings, opinions, etc.

The previous chapter is a foray into Jane's past after Datmar. The krogan use an herb, grown on Thessia, to connect one mind to another and share memories. It's a cultural thing they've employed to deal with the extensive trauma they must endure, particularly the women. While it is grueling to relive such horrid memories, the krogan believe healing happens through sharing their trauma, and no longer being alone with it. This also allows the female shaman to place a block between Jane's unconscious mind and her powers. So, she no longer blows things up in her sleep. I will elaborate on this more later, but that explanation suffices for now.

Amata is part of the ritual and the key points we learn about her are:

She is pregnant with Wrex's child, and is desperately hoping for a live birth.

She was enslaved by Weyrloc. And when she proved infertile, sent to a labor camp where she was later rescued by Wrex.

She is comforted by, and provided comfort to, Jane. (The woman literally held Jane in her arms at one point.)

Regarding what we learned about Jane:

The budget cuts drove Sargent Ponna Cod'gekan to desperation. They invested far too much in Jane to just throw her out after she aided Balya's escape. (I alluded to, but do not completely reveal, why their plan was foiled.) We see how Jane survived Datmar on a stroke of luck and greed. How she was sold to the brothel, and how her moral boundaries were no longer jaded but broken. We see when she stopped seeing violence as necessary for survival, and embraced the feeling of power it gave her.

We've seen a bit of Jane's instability. How she enjoys fighting. How she prefers knife combat in particular. And chapter 99 gave us more insight into her violent nature. That said, she fits in wonderfully with the krogan, who nurture violence. So, she's found acceptance in the galaxy which has begun helping tremendously. Her journey of healing is a long one, however.

She survived those ships by making herself small and inconsequential, eliminating every independent thought along the way. Tali hit the nail on the head when she was observing her in the Neema's airlock. This is a particularly important excerpt that I cannot boil down to a few lines:

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-

She was onstage, violin in hand, fingers trilling at its neck. Eyes closed. Lost in the music. Lost in the Halix flowing through her veins. One of the rewards for earning her place as the brothel's best ticket seller. Pure intoxicants of her choice. And Halix was her go to. It'd take her away, and she'd lose herself between the notes. Sometimes she was with Balya kicking ass. (Allegros.) Others times she was somewhere she couldn't quite place, warm and bright. Fleeting laughter. The feeling was there, but not the image. A frame without the picture. But it filled her with a longing that she never knew she had. She wanted to go there, wherever there was, more than anything she ever wanted. (Moon River.)

The bow would glide across the strings, chasing that beautiful feeling, enhanced with Halix. Floating free. Warm in her dreamy cocoon. She missed it sometimes. And she wondered, if she could hop back in time, (for a few days) if she'd endure another round in the brothel just to feel that again. Moon River and Halix, Moon River and Halix, take me there. (How fucked was that?)

O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-O-

Anyhow, my intent will become clear in time.

Normally I don't like to share my character analyses as they tend to change. In order to hasten Shepard's return, I've gone in a slightly different direction with Jane than I initially intended. This is not uncommon and I like to keep things fluid, less concrete so they're open to future changes if the plot demands it. But here's an excerpt from my notes that I'm rather fond of. And it has remained relevant.

Regardless of her swiss-cheese memory, Jane wasn't taken from her loving family until she was nine, which enabled her to have a strong foundation. We can see how the abuse she endured whittled her down, changed her morals, yet she's capable of love. And she's capable of empathy, without intervention, because of that foundation. She may not recognize love, or understand how to have it. But she is capable. We see that in her actions. In her thoughts. In her care for the krogan children. In her saving Sciffy in particular. And we see that again in this chapter, when she reaches out after having to relive all that.

There are other reasons for her compassion than the brief, yet solid, upbringing she had on Mindoir. But we'll get into that later in ME2.

Jane excels at survival, regardless of cost. She made herself into whomever she had to be to keep both herself and Sciffy alive. On the ships, she made herself small and pliable. In the brothel, she made herself overtly sexual and embraced the role of seductress. In Datmar, she made herself a vicious killer. But she only killed because she viewed it as necessary. After the brothel, she becomes darker, harder, and closer to the woman we see today.

But her empathy remains. Even if she views it as more of a curse than a blessing. Caring gets you in trouble is a favorite line of hers. And she can't seem to stop. No matter how much she may want to.