Linron said something, but it was unintelligible. Shepard narrowed her eyes in focus but still couldn't understand the words. The irritated expression on her face was easy enough to interpret, however, and she spoke harshly to the other Salarian in the room, making him exit.

While he was gone she endured the Dalatress' vulture-like gaze. A warm drop of something slid from her face and over her lips that tasted like metal. She did a quick self-check that revealed her ankles were cuffed together and her wrists restrained above her against a wall. She felt awful. Regardless, Shepard carefully slid her feet under her and tried to stand, but couldn't quite summon the strength to get there.

The Dalatress laughed, enraptured, and the anger it enkindled had her trying again, jaw clenched. Her legs were rubbery and trembling, but she stood and Linron didn't like that one bit. The other Salarian came in and made a beeline for Shepard, who flinched to protect herself, but the act made her drop her full weight back on her wrists instead with a wince. He paused and held up his hands as if he meant no harm, a small earbud between his fingers. She nodded and went still, but as he was inserting the bud, she got a look at her bare feet.

"What the hell?" she asked in alarm, twisting her legs to better see the discoloration of her skin. The skin appeared to be sloughing off in places...like a snake she'd seen in a vid once.

"How do you feel?" Linron asked with twisted pleasure, and Shepard almost wished it were gibberish again. The other Salarian's face wilted in disapproval, but he did nothing to gainsay her.

"Same way I feel everytime I see your cheerful face," she said, deadpan.

Linron turned to the male beside her and said, "Pretty lively for a dead woman, wouldn't you say?"

He ducked his head in embarrassment. "Apologies, Dalatress. My strengths are in Salarian medicine, not human."

"Oh get out, will you?" she said in what sounded like an old, worn out argument. "Go...research," she said with another flip of her hand.

The Doctor straightened and his face took on a stubborn glint. "As I said, I'm not leaving you alone...with her."

"Neither of us can even stand, Freeg," she said in a withering tone. "Go and watch from your cameras if you must, but this conversation is class orange, do you understand?" She looked around at a couple of random locations as if speaking directly to someone. "Class Orange!"

Freeg's face turned to Shepard with a glare of warning, then he nodded and left them alone with one another.

Given how damning the content of the conversation that was coming would be, Shepard was surprised by the action. "You know, that's the nicest thing I think I've ever seen you do," she said thoughtfully. "You just saved that man's life."

Linron snapped, "There's nothing I wouldn't do for my own people; though I clearly can't expect you to understand that."

Shepard gave her a look of confused acceptance, but didn't have the energy to shrug. "Oh I've seen what you'll do for your own people. It's the rest of the galaxy that gets the bill."

"And why should we pay for your lack of vision?" she spat in return. "You let the Krogan and the Rachni live! The only consolation I have for that stupidity is that you've let them settle in your own backyard."

Shepard shook her head, ready to argue again, but paused as a wave of nauseous hunger like nothing she'd never experienced before passed through her body; every cell in her extremities vibrating with it. She managed, with great effort, not to make a sound.

Linron looked intrigued. She tilted her head and asked innocently, "Are you dying?"

Shepard blinked fiercely to clear her vision. "You oughta know," she said accusatorily. "This is kinda your thing."

Linron's eyes widened, and she licked her lips before responding. "I must admit, I was hoping the trap would kill you," she admitted. The Salarian's eyes travelled over her face and body with mild disgust. "This reaction of yours, though, was unexpected."

She assumed the Dalatress would lie as a matter of course, but the problem was...she looked entirely surprised. Her eyes drifted down to her feet again before returning to the Salarian. "What's happening to me?"

Linron looked pointedly unconcerned. "You heard Freeg. He has no idea."

Her breath came quickly, instincts telling her to get out of here as quickly as possible. She looked back at her foe, eyes narrowed. "Where's Garrus?"

Again, she looked unconcerned. "Being interrogated, no doubt. You stirred up a nest with this little stunt. Shall we talk about why you're really here?"

The hunger settled into a pain in her temples. "Sure," she said in a voice that belied her distress. "Where's Valern?"

"Dead, of course," came the matter of fact reply. "I was being returned from the hospital and the car drove near his hotel by coincidence. When he came into sharing range we were quite surprised to find one another there."

Her eyes slid shut at the acknowledgement and she sighed and breathed, "So was I." Then she looked at Linron again, questioningly. "So you know how all this works then?"

The Dalatress nodded eyes glittering, "Oh I do, now. I didn't kill him right away. We spent quite a long time in the share together."

They would have learned everything they ever wanted to know about one another, she realized , but she killed him when she was done. That meant she knew about the Convergence. Great. Could her mission fail any harder?

"Curious," Linron added with malignant disappointment, "That you're able to disassociate yourself from it."

"And I'm curious that you didn't know long before now," Shepard bristled. "Though I guess you were running around with your little fleet for a while, separated from all this, weren't you? You know, I've always wanted to ask, how did the Illusive Man infect you? Now that you know about the Convergence, you have to know he used you to fuck over pretty much everyone."

The barb hit its mark and Linron's lips thinned with disapproval. "Well, he was right about one thing," she said sternly, "The Krogan needed to be brought to heel, and we very nearly succeeded."

Shepard managed a weak laugh, "If it weren't...for those pesky Rachni."

The old woman shrugged, "At least I was back in time to deal with them before they did any lasting harm."

"Deal with them?" she repeated, the hairs standing up on the back of her neck.

"Yes," she confirmed, resting her elbows on the arms of her mobile chair. Her face was inscrutable, and her eyes watched Shepard like a poisoned insect, dying on the floor. "Frankly, I'm surprised you're here looking after Valern instead of performing your usual meddling on Tuchanka. If the Convergence's needs rank higher in priority than your friend Wrex's death they must have a firmer grip on you than I surmised."

Her mind spun. "What did you do?" Shepard asked breathlessly.

But the Dalatress looked up to see Freeg and a number of guards crowding her door and waved them in.

"Most high," Freeg said hurriedly, "We must secure the prisoner, forgive me."

She looked annoyed, glancing to Shepard then back to him. "What's the matter?"

The guards took hold of Shepard roughly, giving no room for misinterpretation as they pulled her off the wall and began shuffling her out.

"I looked into scans of her physiology and," he paused, shying away from her as she was carried toward the door, "We believe the transformation she is undergoing is similar to what we saw during the war."

Linron slammed a fist into the arm of her chair. "What are you talking about?"

"Madam," he said pleadingly as Shepard struggled against their hold, "We believe she's becoming a human Husk. We have to get her into isolation immediately."

"What?" Shepard protested, "That's ridiculous!" She began fighting in earnest, but the attempt was useless; she was far too weak. She turned to look over her shoulder at the Dalatress one last time. "Linron," she pressed frantically, "What did you do ?"

Though the old woman was understandably alarmed at the change in situation she still met Shepard's gaze...and slowly smiled at her before she was dragged outside her rooms.

No, she thought. Nononono . Had Linron killed Wrex? It made sense...his death would cause a civil war that would likely spill into conflict with the other races. It would keep the Krogan crippled and weak for centuries, destroying any chance for them to finish what he'd started. She needed to know.

In the space of a heartbeat she found the groupthink where it lay quietly and dove into it, her and Linron's thoughts crashing into one another like a curling wave onto a craggy reef. Sifting through her thoughts was made more difficult by the fact that so much of the content came from Valern. His death had not been quick or clean, and Shepard had to build a wall around her feelings on that matter to focus on what was important. The perusal was two-way, as it always had been, and Shepard hated putting everything she had ever known before Linron's diabolical intelligence like a buffet. She had to be quick.

Krogan. Wrex. Yes, this way. Memories slid by her on fast forward as she took branches and forks leading to the knowledge she required. STG presenting possible strategies. One chosen. The Krogan ship Artac in drydock and a daring raid to install a virus. Celebratory success.

"You killed him." Shepard growled with a half sob, broadcasting in the share at the same time, emotion overwhelming her ability to keep the two realms separated. She slumped to the floor with grief, the guard's hands lifting her, dragging her down the hall to whatever terrible hell awaited her while she watched footage of the Crakador's destruction from Linron's memories; saw the Artac rotating its guns to the doomed carrier to fire once, twice, three times before the ship began to break apart. She could only imagine her friend's reaction onboard, could only see his face in her mind's eye….while Linron's pleasant affirmation resonated inside her head.

This woman was a psychopath. She had no regard for anyone or anything but herself, her sole motivation to play with the galaxy like a puppet master; and no matter what anyone had said, no matter what Shepard had done for peace, her machinations hadn't even been slowed. She had to get out of here. She had to warn the Krogan...had to warn everyone.

But she and Garrus were trapped in one of the highest security facilities in the galaxy. Others knew where she was and might mount a rescue, if she could delay the inevitable; but did the fact that this was a trap mean that STG had, in fact, led her here on purpose? Would Rentola even come for her? Would Linron kill her if he didn't? The Dalatress had already killed the leader of the Krogan people and the last Salarian councilor. Would the consequences of killing a Spectre even matter to her? The answer was no, and it came both from her own intellect and the sound of Linron's triumphant voice in her mind at the same time.

Something….broke at the realization; somewhere deep inside. Linron had to be stopped, no matter the cost. If all the governmental entities in the galaxy couldn't do it, that task fell to her. She was mere steps away and no one would ever get this close again. She began calculating how she could slip their grasp and make it back into her private rooms so she could...

"I don't think you'll be dispensing your brand of justice to anyone, ever again ," the Dalatress made clear in the share. "You ran roughshod over everyone in your path to achieve your own goals. How many people have you killed, Shepard ? How are you any different ?"

Because I'm fighting for peace , she thought to herself; but Linron's accusation, no matter how twisted, had truth in it. It was a truth she'd been grappling with for years. The pain of it was her penance, though, something that would never trouble the Salarian leader. She'd never reflect on it and she'd never, ever do the right thing.

The resounding crack in her soul had released her old friend, rage, who'd been a constant companion since Elysium. She'd managed to keep it distracted and corralled since the war ended, but it now burned brighter with each moment like a fire given oxygen, filling her to the brim even as she recognized its uselessness. She was too weak, physically, to kill her, but maybe there was another way to make her understand. She redirected that infernal energy, all that anger and grief and frustration against Linron in the share, just as she'd done to Charles Saracino on the Brakenbah all those years ago. If nothing else, she wanted her to hurt as much as she was hurting.

Shepard could feel Linron's reaction to it; a rapid stunned silence...and a pause in the consumption of everything Shepard knew. It brought a feeling of supreme satisfaction to her, followed by a shadow of lingering shame that wasn't enough to stop her from pushing deeper. Linron was panicking now and Shepard realized that any display of that to her guards could mean physical repercussions for herself; so she reached out with mental hands and gripped her tightly to keep her from moving or making a sound, just as she might tighten her hand on someone's mouth to keep them from screaming. When she heard no shouted orders and felt nothing from her escort beyond the dragging grip they had on her useless body, she smiled.

Unlike Saracino, Linron had no way to respond to the assault and Shepard knew just how much it hurt; pitilessly torturing her with pain for minute after satisfying minute that would only be reflected in seconds outside the share. She poured herself into it with the same focus she'd honed through years battling her own suffering along with the Reaper scourge. It was a sharp scalpel, that drive, drawing forth her own internal scream of hatred that resulted finally in an agonizing cry of surrender over the share that she savored like the finest wine after a troubling day.

By God, the power was intoxicating. Her thoughts flickered, unwittingly, to the moments she shared with Morinth just before Samara intervened and saved her life. Was this the same instinct that compelled the Ardat-Yakshi to kill? With that thought came a flood of conscience, and she withdrew the lash of her vengeance with a real gasp of consideration. Her grip on Linron's physical body remained firm, however. She couldn't risk a lapse, now.

Linron's presence was quiet and steady, almost flatline. For a moment, Shepard wondered if she'd fainted. You still there? She broadcast, and heard a subdued, "Yes," in return. She was being carried farther and farther away from her at this point, and while she wasn't certain at what distance the share would end she didn't want to find out. Tell them to bring me back, she ordered, or there will be more. There was no answer but a feeling of acquiescence, so she waited, counting the seconds and each step of her guards.

The Salarian males gripping her with iron hands stopped with some discussion between them and harsh looks in her direction, but they dutifully turned back toward the Dalatress' rooms, pulling her along. Her chest filled with elation and her head fell back in relief as they went.

When Shepard entered Linron's quarters again she beheld Freeg arguing at his ruler. 'At' because she simply gave no response to his complaints. The Dalatress' eyes immediately went to Shepard's as if waiting, and even though she saw the results for herself she questioned their reality.

Tell them to bring Garrus to you, now, she ordered, and Linron turned to one of the guards watching the doorway. "Go and get the Turian. Bring him here, too," she intoned before being all but berated by her personal physician again.

The success was so shocking that she struggled to put thought into next steps. Her baser instincts told her to just get in a shuttle with Garrus and leave immediately, but there were….other options now that she hadn't considered. Would Linron follow commands after she departed? She suspected she would. She suspected something terrible but undeniably useful, and put aside all moral quandaries for a time when her life wasn't on the line.

A quick look into Linron's thoughts provided answers to the questions popping into her mind. The old woman was dying of multiple illnesses and had less than a month to live. Shepard felt a twinge of disappointment at the news. It would be difficult to force her to pursue peace if she was dead. Unless...

While she pondered that thought, she ordered Linron to have the guards help her to a chair, as she dazedly realized she was only above the floor at all because her captors held her up by the shoulders. She didn't ask to be uncuffed, as this little scenario fully relied on Linron's attendants' belief that she was in control.

"Dalatress!" Freeg repeated in exasperation. "Please reconsider, I'm begging you. This human is an imminent threat to your life!"

The Salarian who'd passed along her previous order about Garrus fidgeted with his weapon by the doorway. His eyes were narrowed and he was keeping a close watch on the proceedings. From the markings on his uniform Shepard surmised he was in command of this particular detail, and while his discipline held him in check for the moment, he'd be the one who'd have to buy any story she fabricated to get them out of here.

I think you need to remind Freeg who's in charge , she suggested strongly as she was placed into a cushioned chair, cuffed hands in her lap.

"That's enough!" Linron snapped at him, and Freeg cowered back from her toward where Shepard sat before careening quickly in another direction to avoid her, too. "Mind your tongue or I'll have you escorted to a cell. Is that clear?"

"Y-yes," he stammered, finding a wall to put his back to. "Yes, most high."

A moment later, Garrus was shoved into the room, flanked by even more Salarians. It was getting crowded in here. He looked rough, his face swollen and crusted with blood, but when his eyes found her, they cringed.

"Oh no," he choked, stumbling and righting himself. "Spirits!" he cried, anger making his voice crack, "What have they done to you?" His escorts tightened their grip on him when he became agitated, but the Turian towered over them as if they were children. Despite the beating he'd obviously received at their hands, the sight of Shepard made him sling one of them into the doorframe; stirring up the mass of Salarians in the room like a hornet's nest.

"Hey!" Shepard called out clearly and his head swivelled to her. She looked at him and lifted her cuffed hands demonstrably. "Garrus," she said in a firm but reasonable tone, "I'm alright. Calm down, okay?"

He growled nevertheless, mandibles flaring aggressively as he was swarmed., but locked his eyes on hers and nodded while they got him back under control.

Sit him down next to me, then get rid of most of these men , she ordered, feeling for the expression of heartbreak on her friend's face. Did she really look that bad? A glance at her bare hands answered that question succinctly and she swallowed hard. Linron was giving orders in the background but she was distracted by the appearance of the skin beneath the layer that was peeling away from her palm. Two fingers pinched a section of it and gently pulled, revealing a smooth, greyish-blue layer that looked mildly iridescent. They looked thinner, too, her hands; sort of shrunken and tight as if she were dehydrated. She could understand, now, just why Freeg thought she might be turning into a Husk. The remembrance of their appearance wasn't terribly different, though the rest of her body had none of the protruding cybernetics that were their tell-tale. And, she realized as she blew at the fringe of bangs that fell over her eyes from time to time, she still had her hair.

Shepard took a deep breath to calm the growing terror she felt at the changes she was experiencing. Her body hadn't been 'hers' for a very long time but it always felt 'normal'. Now she felt like she was imprisoned in something over which she had no control. Her eyes lifted to Garrus' as he was placed and secured in his own chair and saw the same terrible uncertainty in his face. The only thing she knew for sure was there were no answers in this place. They needed to leave.

At least he was here, beside her. Garrus was solid and real and...reliable even when nothing else was, and she embraced that bit of comfort. She managed a smile at him while over half the males filed out to take up positions elsewhere. They had no intentions of leaving their leader unprotected with the pair and Shepard couldn't blame them for that bit. It meant it was time for the puppet show; so her eyes narrowed in thought and the orders began to flow.

Okay, Linron, start by telling us how stupid we are.

Less than an hour later, Shepard hung on Garrus' shoulder, walking lamely with him toward a shuttle with one of his arms around her waist. The Turian looked perplexed at the whole thing, but knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. Linron and her entire entourage followed them cautiously, the Dalatress shouting down anyone who contradicted her narrative. It was the next part of Shepard's plan that left her with doubt and if it failed they could very well be detained again; so she wanted to be on her way out of Salarian space before those dice rolled.

"You good to fly this thing?" she asked as they reached the door.

"I...can't understand you." Garrus replied in a subdued voice, her own earbud at least translating his words while he palmed the handle to allow them entry with his free hand.

Linron watched them with a sharp gaze as they readied to depart. "You are hereby deported from Sur'Kesh and all her sovereign territories," she said imperiously. "If you return it will be on the penalty of death. Take that back to Tevos with my regards, Spectre."

"Yes, Ma'am," Shepard replied in an appropriately chastised voice.

They didn't speak until they reached that relay, the silence tense while they monitored the movement of every security ship and war vessel within range. Only when their viewports went white with the jump to Widow did they release the breath they both held so tightly.

They took several deep breaths at that point, eyes front before Garrus asked, "What…just happened?"

"Where do you want me to start?" she said in return, then, remembering he couldn't understand her words, she turned from where she uncomfortably sat in the co-pilots seat and gave him an inelegant shrug.

"Right," he breathed before leaving the pilot's chair to take a knee by her. "Are you okay? What can I do to help?"

She turned to look at him, her heart beginning to return to a more civilized pace. A frail-looking hand reached out to call up a system map, with another gesture expanding it to view the galaxy before she pointed at Thessia.

"Take me home," she murmured. "Just take me home."