Book II - Chapter 7: Jailbreak

"Shepard."

Recognizing her bondmate's voice, Shepard looked up from the array of holo-screens projecting out of Vigil's stubby mechanical head while gesturing her dismissal to the ancient VI. At her signal, Vigil turned off the screens and stalked away in an almost sulking fashion while muttering about being designed as a steward program, as supposed to a tactical simulator.

Shepard was pleasantly surprised to discover that Vigil was slightly better at running multiple streams of complicated simulations than Widget - something about compressed file vs fractal quantum computing. Tali had explained the difference to her enthusiastically in a rapid torrent of technical jargon that sounded mostly of gobbledygook. The young quarian had then promptly borrowed Widget from her for a system upgrade and had yet to return it. From the looks of it, Tali was well on her way to building her own little sidekick - Chatika vas Paus, if Shepard remembered correctly.

They had stayed on the Shadow Broker's base for days, scrambling to take stock of all the contacts and resources before any agents could notice the change at the top. Even with the additional help from Tali and Kasumi (plus Widget and the chipper info drone), it would still take significant effort to fully utilize the Broker's existing network. They had made impressive headway in the short amount of time, but the sheer volume of information hoarded away inside the Broker's databank was staggering.

As an aside, it was simply breathtaking to watch Liara thrive in this arena. Her bondmate might not have a drell's perfect recall or a salarian's photographic memory, but she had an exceptionally analytical mind and a prestigious, innate talent to pick out patterns from within a jumbled yarn of chaos. Judging by Liara's capability alone, Shepard was confident the shy archaeologist would have no problem adapting to her new role as the kingpin of the underworld.

Expecting to see Liara smile chidingly at her for working too hard, Shepard grinned innocently at her bondmate, only to have her smile fall off her face when she saw Liara's expression.

Alarmed, Shepard shot up to her feet. "What's wrong?" she asked, as she quickly scanned the maiden for any sign of distress.

"I am very sorry, my love." Liara reached up and cupped her cheeks with both hands. "I found Jack."

Shepard felt her heart dropped through the pit of her stomach at the tone. "Please tell me she is alive."

"She is," Liara assured her quickly. "But she is in a precarious position. She was captured by Broker agents on Illium, and the Broker promptly sold her to the Illuminated Primacy for the hefty bounty on her head. She is currently being held in a high security prison ship controlled by the Blue Suns. I was hoping to negotiate for her release, but unfortunately I wasn't the only bidder."

Shepard closed her eyes and rubbed her face tirely. "Cerberus."

Liara nodded. "I read her file. I finally understood why you picked her to watch your back on Omega, Shepard. Cerberus should never be allowed to get their hands on her again."

"That's putting it lightly." Shepard combed a hand through her choppy red hair, annoyed and frustrated with the situation. "Liara, it could've been me. All the horrible things Cerberus have done to her, it could've been me. It was the early days of humans developing biotics. Most of the accidental exposures at that time were intentional. Children, babies, even pregnant women were being disappeared. If my mother hadn't shipped me off to some backwater colony in the Verge, I could've ended up as another subject for them to torture."

"We will get her out." Liara promised.

Shepard nodded in agreement before sitting back down on the couch, frowning at nothing as she tried to come up with a plan to spring Jack from Purgatory. Again. Jack really had some rotten luck. The hanars must have been really attached to that sacred moon she had vandalized. A one way ticket to the galaxy's most infamous private prison was normally reserved for the most hardened criminals, terrorists and slavers and the like - not vandals.

The objective might be the same - jailbreaking Jack from Purgatory - but the circumstances had changed beyond all recognition. Shepard's foreknowledge was completely useless now. Not that it was all that useful to begin with; she wasn't going to crash the ship and let all the convicts loose again. There had to be a better way.

Unfortunately, she was coming up blank.

"Got any suggestions?" Shepard asked. With Cerberus in the mix, she had no idea how the turian warden (what was his name again?) would react. She needed more information.

Liara sat down next to her and put a comforting hand on her knee. "As soon as I found out, I immediately reached out to Warden Kuril, the person in charge of the prison ship Purgatory, but I was far too late. He had decided that Jack would fetch a higher price on the open market. According to the intel, this barefaced turian is greedy and controlling - no surprise there. I sent out a negotiator to place a bid - an exorbitant amount, ten times the original bounty, in fact - and then I was told I should up my bid because I wasn't the only wealthy client looking to purchase Subject Zero."

Right, Kuril, the barefaced turian. She remembered that backstabbing rat bastard now. Shepard crossed her arms and scowled at the memory. "Let me guess: he is putting you and Cerberus against each other to start a bidding war."

"Precisely."

"Why can't it ever be simple?" Shepard complained, grinding her teeth at the unexpected set back. Pausing for a long moment of contemplative silence, she finally asked, "how long can you stall them?"

"Ten days, and no more. Kuril already set the date for the next meeting."

A thought came to her. "Did he specify the terms of the meeting?"

"Yes. We are supposed to come forward together, each with the best offer in hand and ready to pay. What are you planning? The prison ship is guarded by a contingent of fighters. You can't force your way in."

Shepard chuckled at the irony. She might not be able to force her way in, but she certainly had no issue forcing her way out the last time around. "No, sweetie, that's not what I had in mind. What am I gonna do? Crash the ship and let all the dangerous convicts go? I'll think of something less drastic. What I mean is, this Kuril guy is more devious than your average turian. I think he is expecting the Broker and Cerberus to spill blood over this. Doesn't matter which side wins the bid at the end, once the winner leaves Purgatory with their prize, the loser will attack. While we are busy fighting each other, the Suns will then swoop in to take advantage of the situation."

Liara gawked at her with an incredulous expression. "That… sounds completely evil. And entirely probable. Why didn't I think of that?"

Shepard gave her a nonchalant shrug. "Double-crossers are tediously predictable. Expect the worse of them, and they will never disappoint. And don't beat yourself up over it, Liara. You're just starting. Spend more time looking into the movers and shakers of the galaxy, and you'll learn how they operate. You have all that information at your fingertips now. Give it another week or two. I trust you'll be a quick study."

"That is very good advice. Alright, I'll do that. So what's your plan then, if you expect treachery from both the Suns and Cerberus?" Liara looked at her expectantly.

Shepard scratched her head. "No idea yet, but I'll think of something."

Ten days was not a lot of time to pull off anything elaborate - which was probably why Kuril had set such a tight deadline. Upside: at least now she knew where the hell Jack was. On the other hand, ten days was a very long time for anyone to be trapped in that god forsaken place. Shepard tried not to dwell on what had happened the last time Jack was incarcerated, but it was an impossible task. Her only consolation was that if the worse had come to pass, well, she'd just have to settle for murdering the creeps who dared to touch her friend.

"Who is your agent, anyway?" Shepard asked, trying to work out multiple angles in her head.

"I've hired an information trafficker specialized in intermediary work. Quite the smooth talker, too, according to his dossier. He is a drell named Feron."

Shepard choked on her spit.

"Are you alright? Perhaps a drink of water?" Liara frown at her with obvious concern as she daftly picked up a glass of water and offered it to her.

"I'm ok, I'm ok." Shepard took the glass and drank deeply, taking a moment to catch her breath before she spoke again. "Just a thought - you might want to make sure Cerberus is not buying his loyalty on the side. No offense, Li, but I don't trust a smooth-talking info broker I'm not married to."

Liara giggled and moved to sit on her lap. "Who's the smooth talker here, Commander?"

Shepard pecked her lightly on the lips. "Why, that would most definately be you, Dr. T'Soni. I was ready to jump you right then and there when you tore the yahg apart with your words alone. That was the sexiest throwdown I've ever witnessed."

"Oh stop, you're just saying that." Liara seemed quite flustered by the praise.

"Trust me, I'm not joking. You should've seen yourself - you were ice cold and smoking hot." Grabbing onto Liara's rear with both hands, Shepard sent her bondmate sprawling on the couch with one toss before pressing her full weight on top of her. The half moan half gasp rushing pass Liara's full lips was music to her ears. "But I think I like you best when you're silky smooth and dripping wet." Shepard whispered, her breath tickling Liara's sensitive undercrest like a feather.

To retaliate, Liara not so gently hooked her hands around the back of Shepard's head and pulled her into a demanding kiss.

Rocking impatiently between Liara's thighs, Shepard jammed a hand between their bodies and tore at the complicated buckles of her armored coat. It took forever to fumble her way through the many layers of clothes, but when she finally touched bare skin, time seemed to stop. She pulled back from the kiss to seal her lips around a fluttering pulse point above Liara's collar bone, all the while grinning at the involuntary trembles she coaxed out of her writhing body. Shepard's heart swelled with love when she felt the fingers tangled into her hair twitch and scratch lightly at her scalp to urge her on.

The warmth beneath her hands, the sweet taste of delicate, velvety flesh, the pleading, breathless way Liara called out her name… "Shepard!"

Here was where she belonged. With Liara by her side, she was finally home.

And everything was right with the world again.

x-x-x

As if being trapped on a ship as a passenger wasn't bad enough, Joker found the experience made a hundred times worse when he was deprived of his Omni-tools. The only silver lining was that Joker got to know Daniels and Donnelly - they were Gabby and Kenny to him now - quite well. On top of being excellent engineers, the two of them were funny as hell. Of the comedy duo, Gabby was the perfect deadpan straight man for Kenny's foil routine. Spending time with the two reminded him painfully of the good times onboard the Normandy. It had been the best time of his life. He doubted he could ever be as happy again.

Joker still refused to fraternize with the two N7 kidnappers. A man had to stand by one's principles and it wasn't like the two N7 were friendly either. Hadfield spent most of her time in the cockpit, and Rizzi seemed content simply sitting in a corner of the mess hall, staring at them broodingly the whole time. Like a creep.

Joker tried not to make eye contact.

Bored out of his mind, he spent most of his spare time silently stared out of the windows of the transport, waiting for something interesting to happen. His wish came true after a few days of travel when he spotted a familiar red planet. "I know where we are!" He declared excitedly to his new crewmates. "That's Mars! I don't need a chart to recognize that." He then paused for a second and asked, "why are we going to Mars again?"

Rizzi gave him a blank look. "We have one more pick up. Dr. Karin Chakwas..."

"You're not knocking her out and dragging her here against her will!" Joker was agast. He stared down the N7 Fury (who could probably break his legs with her mind), ready to back up his threat with his fists. Glass bones or no glass bones, he would not let anyone put a finger on the good doctor without putting up a fight.

Rizzi's eyes twitched in obvious annoyance. "Will you relax? We're not Neanderthals. Sit down before you break something."

Joker sank back into his seat and kept glaring daggers into the back of the woman's head.

"Is she the same Dr. Chakwas you were telling us about?" Daniels asked quietly.

Joker nodded his confirmation. "Yeah. She was the Chief Medical Officer of the Normandy. One of the best people I know. I swear, if they hurt her, I will kick their ass."

Donnelly patted him on the back. "And we'll help."

"Ugh, please. There is no need to be dramatic." Rizzi massaged her forehead.

They docked shortly after. This was followed by an excruciatingly long wait time that seemed to stretch on forever, and was probably twenty minutes in reality.

At last, the airlock to the mess hall hissed open. Dr. Chakwas was here. The good doctor broke into a warm smile as soon as her gaze landed on him. "Hello, Jeff. It's been a while."

Joker limped over to give the woman a hug. "Oh man! Dr. Chakwas, it's really you! They didn't do anything to you, did they?"

Chakwas blinked at him, looking quite bewildered by his question. "Who did what to me? What do you mean?"

Hovering behind the doctor, Rizzi gave Joker an unimpressed sneer, just daring him to accuse her of doing anything improper.

Chakwas' Omni-tool vibrated, and Hadfield's voice came through. "Ma'am, we're cleared for take off. Ready when you are."

"I'm forwarding you the coordinates. The passcode is Poseidon." The doctor replied as she typed into the device.

Joker's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Wait, you know where we're going?"

"Not really. I'm merely a messenger." Chakwas replied with a faint smile on her face.

Joker gaped at her. "But, but that means you're in on this too!"

Chakwas gave him an apologetic nod. "In a way, yes. I know as much as is necessary."

"Come on, don't give me that. What is going on?"

Rizzi cut in before Chakwas had the chance to reply. "Back off, Lieutenant. Need I remind you this is not how classified info is disseminated? How did you even get through Basic?"

Realizing he was stepping over a line, Joker flushed an ugly red as he hastily put up his hands and backed away.

Chakwas interjected, "don't be so hard on him. I completely understand where he's coming from. This has been hard on all of us."

At that, Rizzi gave her a curt nod and wandered off towards the direction of the cockpit, but not before sending Joker a warning look first.

"That one has some serious anger issues." Daniels muttered under her breath. "Is that why her designation is called Fury?"

"Nah." Joker shook his head. "It means she is a really good biotic and her enemies should fear her. You know, like the saying, 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned'. At least that's what I heard from Commander Shepard..." He grimaced at the mention of Shepard's name. It was still painful to speak of his old CO. Pausing for a moment, he continued, "she's not wrong though. Sorry, Dr. Chakwas. I shouldn't have put you on the spot like that. I should've known better."

"That's alright." Chakwas didn't seem offended. In fact, she looked quite concerned. "What about you? Are you feeling alright, Jeff? Have you been seeing the therapist I recommended?"

Joker pouted, feeling quite self-conscious about the probing questions. "Yeah, I'll get over myself. And yes, I've had my head shrunken at regular intervals, so there's nothing to worry about. Really, I'm fine."

"Very well. Now let's get you some privacy so I can give you a quick check up. You have been taking all your medication, right?" The doctor asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously at his pallid complexion.

"Yes, mum." Joker replied cheekily as he followed Chakwas out of the mess hall. Hadfield had been thoughtful enough to include his meds inside his field kit, so he hadn't skipped a day of his medication.

The next leg of the blind journey was almost as boring as the previous one, though having Chakwas onboard did wonders for his mood. Joker only realized now how much he had missed his old crew. He still had difficulties talking about his time spent on the Normandy, but somehow it felt different reminiscing with Chakwas than just remembering on his own. The doctor might not be a psychologist, but talking with her was cathartic. As a fellow survivor who had been part of Commander Shepard's crew since Eden Prime, Chakwas understood exactly what he had gone through. They shared stories with Daniels and Donnelly, who often looked part awed and part incredulous. Their reactions were so funny, it made him want to cry.

He did break into sobs a few times, but Dr. Chakwas said it was completely normal and was part of the healing process, so Joker tried not to feel too embarrassed about it.

A few days later, their ship stopped at an abandoned weather station somewhere in the Crescent nebula, where they picked up another passenger.

"Corporal Toombs reporting for duty, ma'am." The average-looking man with a severe expression spoke with a crisp salute. His face was scruffy with grey speckled stubble, and his grungy brown spacer suit looked worn and dirty from use. All-in-all, the new guy seemed like any other civilian deckhand who had lived a hard life out in the Terminus systems. Joker felt like he had heard of the name Toombs, but he was pretty sure he had never seen this person before.

Toombs extracted an OSD and handed it to the doctor. "Dr. Chakwas, same password. It's voice-locked. And everyone, please collect your personal items. We're taking a different ship. Flight Lieutenant Moreau, you have the helm." Toombs said and handed over the digital key.

Joker took the key with a massive grin on his face. He held his hand out expectantly toward Hadfield. "My Omni-tool, please."

"Can we have ours back too?" Daniels asked hopefully.

Hadfield dug out their devices from her pocket. "Sure. Just keep in mind you're still in blackout. That means no extranet activities. No emails, no surfing, not even to play Galaxy of Fantasy."

"Got it. I just want to put it back on my wrist. I feel naked without it." Daniels complained.

"I know exactly how you feel." Donnelly agreed.

They followed Toombs out on the dock and piled in on a Kodiak. After a short trip, they arrived at a fueling station where their next ride had docked; it was another Kowloon class freighter that looked almost identical to the one they had come in with. At this point, Joker had given up trying to understand how the black ops thought process worked; all the cloak and dagger seemed downright silly to him.

In any case, Joker was just happy to be back on the pilot's seat. "What are the coordinates, Dr. Chakwas?"

"Here."

Chakwas unlocked the file and sent the data to the ship's main console. A detailed star chart sprang up on the holo-screen with the exact coordinates marked out in red - their next destination was a facility located on a planet in the Faryar system of the Hourglass nebula.

Joker squinted at the start chart. "Alingon. Why have I heard of this planet?"

Hadfield and Rizzi exchanged a significant look, but it was Donnelly who answered. "Maybe because Alingon is a notorious ambushing site for pirates?"

Joker's jaw dropped. "Wait, we're driving a merchant freighter into pirate infested space?! I gotta ask; do we have any hidden weapons installed on the ship that I can't see from the console?"

Toombs gave him a noncommittal shrug. "I was told you were good for the job."

Joker palmed his face. "You've got to be kidding me."

x-x-x

Tela Vasir looked out the darkly tinted window and stared blankly at the streaking starlights. She had followed the instructions sent to her personal email address and boarded the unmarked Kodiak docked in the specified stall number in a busy commercial starport in Nos Astra. Her biometrics unlocked the console and the transport promptly took off to a preprogrammed destination somewhere in the Tasale system. Though she was sitting idle in the thinly cushioned passenger seat, her mind was running in circles.

Shepard was alive.

And judging by the elaborate ruse to secure a private meeting, the human wanted to keep that news under wraps. Shepard clearly had an agenda, but for the life of her, Vasir could not figure out what it was. Nobody, except for sociopaths and criminals, would fake their own death for fun. What did Shepard have to hide?

Vasir had not decided on what her reaction should be when she saw the woman again. Should she be ecstatic that her stubborn fellow Spectre had managed to cheat death again? Or should she be furious that Shepard had deceived the whole galaxy into thinking she had tragically gone down with her ship?

Either way, Vasir had decided she was going to punch the smug human in the guts as payback for cracking her ribs. No, no. She should slap her instead. That should be a sufficiently dramatic display to demonstrate how pissed off she was about the deception. Or perhaps a proper headbutt was required to fully convey her displeasure?

While Vasir was busy fantasizing violence against her previously deceased colleague, the transport's autopilot program quietly pulled the vehicle into the docking bay of one of many privately owned fuel depots dotting the Tasale system.

Her Omni-tool buzzed just as the docking clamps strapped down the Kodiak. Meet me at the station office, the message read. The name of sender was left blank.

Vasir clenched her jaw and stepped off. I'm perfectly calm. She repeated to herself in her mind, but she could not control her steadily escalating heart rate with every step she took. By the time she stood in front of the airlock separating the hallway from the office, blood was roaring in her head.

Shepard looked exactly as she had remembered.

Not exactly, she thought, after taking a harder look at the human. Shepard looked thinner. Her choppy red hair had grown out an inch, and there was also a barest hint of slouch, like she was being weighed down by an invisible force.

"Hey." Shepard said, smiling wanly at her.

Vasir slowly approached the insufferable woman as her fists shook. "That's all you've got to say? Hey?"

Shepard gave her a startled look and replied, "I thought it's a standard greeting. Like, hey, how are you?"

Vasir growled at the redhead with her lips pulled back. "How about you start with an apology for making everyone think you're fucking dead? And then you can move on to what the hell made you think faking your own death is in any way a good idea. Huh? How about we start from there?!"

The infuriating human tilted her head, a bewildered expression slowly crept up on her face. "Oh."

"What?!" Vasir snapped at her.

Shepard just stood there, staring at her with her jaw dropped open in a clear show of surprise. After a long moment of stunned silence, she said dumbly, "I really didn't think you'd care."

A fog of purple rage clouded her vision. Vasir bolted forward and punched the supposedly dead woman square in the jaw with a vicious right hook. The sheer force sent the redhead flying into a wall. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

"Oww! Was that really necessary?" Shepard complained loudly as she picked herself up while rubbing her aching face. "Alright, alright! I'm sorry! If you must know, it was the last resort. I didn't do this for shits and giggles. I didn't even tell my own mother!"

"What last resort?" Vasir demanded.

"If I wasn't tipped off about the attack beforehand, I really would've died." Shepard's voice dropped to a harsh whisper. "They shot down the Normandy for one reason - to collect my corpse. You've seen what Sovereign did to Saren's still cooling body. Do you really want to see what they can do with mine?"

"Wait. Stop. What?!"

Shepard sighed and asked patiently, "what do you know about the Collectors?"

Vasir stared at the human, feeling quite disoriented by the sudden change of subject. "Very little. Why?"

"Indulge me. Tell me what you know of them."

Now feeling more than a little off-balanced from the tangent, Vasir crossed her arms with an indignant huff but complied with the request. "The Collectors are an reclusive race whose homeworld is located somewhere beyond the Omega 4 Relay. They are named as such because they are slavers who collect sapient species like objects. They are so rarely seem even in the Terminus systems that it is widely believed their existence to be a myth. That's all I know."

"What do you believe?" Shepard asked.

Vasir frowned at the question. "I've never seen them myself, but I've heard stories about them when I was a youngling."

Shepard tapped her Omni-tool and pulled up a screen. "This is security footage taken two days after Sovereign attacked the Citadel."

The vid showed a cramped warehouse stuffed full of captured humans. One side of the warehouse stood a gang of Blue Suns mercs - slavers, most likely. On the opposite side of the warehouse was…

"What the... I've never… These things are the Collectors?!" Vasir recoiled at the monstrous beings that looked half-melted and thoroughly mutilated.

And then the footage showed a biotic shrouded asari - Aria T'Loak, the Queen of Omega herself - leaping out from nowhere and unleashing a flurry of biotic storm at everything that moved. Her subordinates followed her lead and slaughtered everyone who were not them. At the end of the battle, Aria picked up a discarded datapad from the ground and that was when Shepard paused the vid and zoomed in.

It was a list. Two dozen left-handed salarians. Sixteen sets of batarian twins. A number of human colonies and their population totals. And at the top of the list was Systems Alliance Commander Jane Shepard, human.

Vasir slowly looked up from the holo-screen as she frowned in concentration. Collectors, an elusive race of monsters who collect organic specimens, and are strangely fixated on humans in general and Shepard in particular.

A sense of dawning horror seized her like cold fingers wrapping around her throat. With each added piece, an ugly picture was starting to form and it was more terrible than she was willing to believe. Vasir locked eyes with Shepard, hoping desperately that she was wrong. But when she saw the guilt and regret in those green eyes, she knew the horrible conclusion she had come to had been correct.

"Ariel, population 786. Disappeared without a trace. All human. That was only the beginning. I'm afraid the Reapers' grudge against me has brought my entire race into their crosshairs."

"It really is happening, isn't it? The Reapers are coming." In a corner of her mind, Vasir felt a flash of unreasonable resentment toward Shepard for giving her all that information. She missed the ignorant bliss. If not for her persistent pursuit of Saren, no one would have known of the Reaper's existence.

Shepard nodded gravely at her. For a moment there, Vasir could almost see the crushing weight of responsibility hanging over her head. "Humans might be the first to be targeted, but they'll come for the rest of us soon. Sovereign called itself the vanguard of our destruction. I didn't think it was being literal when I first heard it."

Vasir scoffed. "I should have known. Sovereign is a machine, of course it was being literal. When have you heard of a poetic AI?"

Shepard bit her bottom lip and looked to be stopping herself from laughing. Vasir had no clue why the human found the comment funny. There was nothing humorous about the entire situation.

"And their number will darken our sky." Vasir quoted. Her traitorous mind was already constructing the doomsday scenario while she desperately tried not to make herself feel ill.

"Yeah." Shepard sighed. "I hate to imagine what it'll look like; nightmare fuel, I'm sure. We could barely handle one."

"So what now?" Vasir asked with a defiant scowl. "I'm not going to meekly bend over and get fucked. You didn't fake your own death just to survive. You've been plotting; anyone with eyes can see that. You're wearing all that stress on your shoulders, it's affecting your damn posture."

Shepard's normally fierce aura was muted under the non-descript black armor she was wearing, but what little leaked out tasted calm and pure with the slightest edge of danger. Regardless her physical condition or the mental stress she was under, the human was every bit the superb Huntress if ever there was one.

And a Huntress must be patient. Shepard had plans. The question was how Vasir herself would fit in them.

"That obvious, huh." Shepard scratched the back of her head with a rueful smile. "I have been working on a number of projects to help with the war effort. I'll spare you the details, but let's just say that since the Council has been less than helpful, I'm helping myself."

Vasir narrowed her eyes at the redhead. Something about the way Shepard said it made her think she had been naughty. "Is that why T'Soni has been tangling with both the Broker and Cerberus?"

At the mention of the young maiden, Shepard's expression darkened as she glared balefully at her. "Don't remind me. I'm still sore about that. You almost broke her neck!"

"Enough with the chest pounding. It's not my fault. I thought she was a traitor. How could I know she was playing double agent? And since we're keeping scores, I'll have you know that you cracked two of my ribs. Two!"

Shepard did not look even a little apologetic about that. "You're lucky I held back. Touch Liara again and I'll break more than just your ribs."

Vasir rolled her eyes at the threat. "Overprotective much? Fine, I'll stay away from your precious bondmate. You know, she'll have to fend for herself if she's playing in the big girl's league." She paused for a second, but curiosity finally won over, and she couldn't help but asked the question that had been churning in her mind for days. "Five days ago, the Shadow Broker was pretty adamant that your bondmate must die. And now they want to keep her alive because she is more useful that way. Dare I ask what exactly you've done to change their mind?"

Shepard's lips slowly curved into a lopsided grin as her entire countenance brimmed with mischief. "Two reasons: the impending Reaper invasion and our mutual disdain for Cerberus. The added fact that Liara didn't really hand my body over to Cerberus was proof enough to convince them of our position."

Vasir frowned at the human. "Does that mean you've revealed yourself to the Shadow Broker?"

Shepard shook her head slowly while grinning like a shark. "Not exactly, no. They thought I was Alison Gunn, ex-Alliance soldier, mercenary for hire. Liara gave the Broker a copy of several classified mission reports related to Cerberus during her stay on the Normandy. She used it as proof to reiterate her disdain for the pro-human terrorist group, and that she would've never allowed her bondmate's body to fall into Cerberus' hands. She convinced the Broker that the real body had been completely destroyed when the Normandy went down. They believed her when she told them that she knew the body was a fake, that the whole thing was clearly a scam to swindle credits from a grieving widow."

"I suppose that makes sense. So the body…"

"Cloned tissues. You can print that in a day or two."

Vasir refrained from rolling her eyes again. "Obviously. But it's hard to believe Cerberus would just take the bait without question. I thought they would be less gullible than that."

Shepard made a vague gesture and added obliquely, "it was a very convincing fake. Liara is still having nightmares about it. And we went through the song and dance on Omega to make the whole scenario believable. We even got Aria T'Loak involved in the ruse - unwittingly, I might add. Look, I don't expect to fool them forever. It's a delay tactic. I just need Cerberus off my back long enough so I don't have to keep looking over my shoulders while I'm busy dealing with the Collector problem. Though in my opinion, Cerberus has the potential to cause more damage than the Collectors do."

Vasir gave the woman a deadpan stare. "You think a human terrorist group is more dangerous than the Reaper's minions? Really?"

Shepard took the time to consider her words for a moment before she replied. "In a word - yes. I know it's a little hard to believe, but hear me out. To put it simply, Cerberus is evil. Their xenophobic, divisive ideology that puts humanity first at the cost of everyone else is detrimental in the face of the coming war. It's not just the organization itself that's the problem; it's what this type of selfish narcissism represents. As we are now, no single species can measure up to the military might of the United Prothean Empire at its peak 50,000 years ago. And look what happened to them. The fact of the matter is, against the Reapers, we only stand a chance if we work together. If every race is only out for themselves, then we're doomed."

"That is..." Vasir struggled to contain the surge of admiration bubbling in her chest. "That is unexpectedly insightful, Shepard. I'm actually impressed."

Shepard grinned at her - the same fucking cocksure smile that Vasir had remembered so damn vividly while she had thought the human gone. "I'm flattered. That's high praise, coming from you. Now if only I can get the Council to listen for once."

Vasir burst out laughing. "Yeah, right. Taking advice from a human they've been actively trying to discredit, that'll be the day. Shepard, just keep doing what you're doing. Without the Council holding you back, you can get so much more done."

"I can only do so much. We'll need their help eventually."

"Eventually, yes. But now you do what you can." Vasir said, recalling Jondum Bau's comments about stockpiling resources. "You are not as alone as you might think. Not everyone is swayed by the Council's misinformation campaign to gloss over the origin of Sovereign."

Shepard's expression softened to a guileless smile that made Vasir think of Thessia's oceans in the morning light. "I'm thankful for that. And speaking of support," the woman straightened up, her posture changed from relaxed to alert in an instant.

Even before the woman asked, Vasir already knew what her reply would be. How could she refuse her when she just got her back?

"I need your help."

x-x-x

Jacob Taylor wondered not for the first time whether he had made the right choice trusting Miranda.

"The package is Subject Zero."

The Cerberus officer in charge of the retrieval mission was Rasa, a caramel skinned woman with a no-nonsense attitude. She gave the room a sweeping glance to ensure she had everyone's attention before pulling up a mug shot of a gaunt young woman sporting a shaved head and a body covered in tattoos. If he squinted, he could make out sprawling lines of angry red scars snaking under the ink.

"Handle the package with extreme care. Subject is considered armed and dangerous at all times - what we're looking at here is, arguably, the most powerful human biotics in existence. Our job is to secure the package and safely deliver it back to base."

Package. Subject. It. Jacob frowned at the young woman's almost anorexic features and inwardly questioned himself why he was even here. He had signed up to make a difference, to do right by his conscience without being hampered by red tape and politics; Miranda had made it sound so heroic, so romantic. In comparison, reality seemed a lot messier than her recruitment speech.

Nonetheless, there was this certainty in Miranda's voice that intrigued him; the same conviction he had been chasing after, but always eluded him. Jacob wanted to be a believer. He wanted to put his faith on something that was bigger than himself.

And then Miranda came along and handed him that something on a silver platter. Revive Commander Shepard and save the galaxy. How could a man possibly walk away from that?

But what he was stuck doing right now seemed as far apart from saving the galaxy as it could get.

Reconstructing Commander Shepard's body was a monumental task, Miranda had explained to him. All available sources had shown the Commander to be an exceptional biotics, easily one of the most powerful human biotics who ever lived. The problem was that Miranda was having difficulties generating the same level of biotic output from Shepard's revived cells. Perhaps there were minor errors in the cybernetic components, or maybe there were flaws in the regenerated cells. There could be a million and one reasons why, and Miranda needed access to another powerful human biotics to help her find a solution.

They needed Shepard to be at her peak and combat ready for the coming Reaper invasion. Anything less would be unacceptable.

Which came back to why they had to travel halfway across the galaxy to collect Subject Zero from a merc controlled maximum security prison ship.

"It seems excessive to dispatch a platoon of soldiers to retrieve one prisoner." Jacob pointed out.

Rasa's eyes drilled into his head with the intensity of a mining laser. "Jacob Taylor, the stray our Miss Perfect picked up. Get it into your thick skull that I'm in charge of this mission. What I say goes. Don't question me again."

Jacob matched her gaze. "I am the Chief Security Officer for the Lazarus Station. Miranda considered this mission important enough that I should assist you in person instead of staying on the Station. I have every right to ask questions. Now, I'm asking nicely, so please explain why we need a platoon of soldiers to facilitate a peaceful transfer of prisoner."

Though fuming with anger, Rassa clamped down her jaw - a clear effort to control her temper before she could say anything she would regret later. "There is a distinct possibility we might need to take the package by force. The Shadow Broker is also interested in acquiring Subject Zero. We might be outbid." The woman finally admitted with gritted teeth.

"We are not breaking into a maximum security prison with one frigate and two dozen men."

"No, we're not. But we'll need to board the Broker's ship if they win the bid. And it's not one frigate and two dozen men. It's one frigate, one heavy cruiser, eight fighters, and over sixty men." Rasa smirked triumphantly at Jacob's bewildered expression and added, "General Petrovsky had agreed to aid me by stationing the Malta at the closest relay. So why don't you kindly sod off? I know what I'm doing."

Jacob narrowed his eyes. He didn't know Rasa well, but he knew this woman must have proven herself to be given command for such an important mission. For all its shady connections, the Shadow Broker faction was not known for its martial strength. They had agents for wet works, yes, but not fleets of warships. Rasa's strategy seemed more than reasonable. Still, with the Broker involved in this mess, a simple retrieval job just got ten times more complicated.

"Back to what I was saying," Rasa continued with a faint sneer, "best case scenario, we win the bid and speed away with the package. We'll then rendezvous with the Malta and be escorted back to Lazarus station. However, if we lose the bid, we'll chase them towards the relay to be ambushed by the Malta. And then we'll board their ship to retrieve the package. Any questions?" She asked while glaring at him.

Jacob had to agree that it did seem like a solid plan. Rasa seemed competent enough; if Miranda really had anticipated a bloodbath, she would have asked for Leng to head this mission. Even though the urge to nitpick was strong, Jacob was not an ass, so he shook his head and resisted from picking a fight.

"Excellent. Taylor, you're coming with me to the meeting. I can bring one bodyguard, and you're it." Rasa glowered at him as she gave the order, obviously trying to provoke him, but Jacob simply nodded.

Seemingly satisfied by the lack of reaction as a show of submission, Rasa stalked away.

Jacob shook his head and wondered how he always ended up taking orders from alpha females.

x-x-x

Feron was sure this job was going to give him an ulcer. He stole an uneasy glance at his bodyguard and inwardly sighed.

The Shadow Broker only sent out Tazzik for results. The fact the salarian was here meant that some poor sod was going to die a very messy death. Feron feverently hoped that everything would go according to plan, lest he become collateral damage.

Why had he taken the assignment again? Oh, right, the pay had been too good to pass up, not to mention it was the right thing to do. If Cerberus thought they could bribe him into betraying the Broker, then they must be deluded. Who in their right mind would work for Cerberus after seeing what they had done to their own species? The detailed dossier on the prisoner Jack the Broker had provided was illuminating in the most disturbing way.

Feron turned his focus on the two humans standing on the opposite end of the room. From the look of it, the two Cerberus representatives were spoiling for a fight. Why else would they be armed to the teeth at the negotiation table? Perhaps he shouldn't be one to judge; after all, people wouldn't pay Tazzik for his honeyed words either. Personally, Feron couldn't see why this Subject Zero would be so important that the Broker was willing to sink this much resource into one human. His best guess was that his boss really wanted to mess with Cerberus. And that by itself had profound implications that could shake the galaxy.

At precisely 0900 standard time, Warden Kuril entered the meeting room with two guards behind him. Both Blue Suns mercs were carrying assault rifles, looking ready to blast any trouble maker to very small bits. "Let's begin," the Warden stated without wasting a moment for small talk.

"Greetings, Warden Kuril." Feron nodded courteously at the turian in charge of the prison and handed him a datapad. "As you have specified, I have come back with the best offer my client is willing to give."

"So have we, Warden." The female human representative interrupted. She came forward and handed her datapad to Kuril while shooting Feron a discreet, dirty look. "In fact, my superior has expressed great interest in repeated business. He admires the efficiency and ingenuity of your operation."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, human." Kuril spoke tersely. His disdain for humans was plain as day - an advantage to exploit in Feron's eyes. He studied both datapads intently for a long minute before handing them both back. "Interesting," was all he said. Feron could practically taste the pungent stink of greed oozing off his pores - if turians had pores.

"We are ready to match their bid, and add another five percent on top." Feron quickly added.

"We can do that, and more." The human female responded, just as quickly, even while her fingers twitched towards the heavy pistol strapped to her side. "Surely, the prospect of future business opportunities must count for something."

Before Kuril could respond, the ship's alarm began to blare urgently. "What the hell is that? I'm in the middle of a meeting here!" Kuril growled impatiently into his Omni-tool.

In the corner of his eyes, Feron noticed the male Cerberus bodyguard had his hand on his pistol as well, ready to draw.

A prison guard ran into the meeting room and reported breathlessly, "sir, there's an unscheduled arrival - salarian military frigate. They have a Spectre onboard. We have to honor the standing agreement with C-Sec and let them dock. They'll be here in two minutes."

Showtime. Feron's eyebrows shot up in feign surprise. "What's C-Sec doing here? This is not Council space. And they've brought along a Spectre, too! This is bad."

Tazzik followed his lead and yelled at the Cerberus operatives with undisguised hostility. "I knew it! This is your fault, Cerberus! You lot have attracted the attention of a Spectre."

The female's complexion took on a distinct ashen shade at the mention of Spectre. "How could… I didn't… This, this has nothing to do with me!" She whipped around to address Kuril, panic plain in her eyes. "Warden, please. Can you do something?"

Kuril frowned at the human female, unimpressed by the vague request. "All of you, stay put and do not wander off. I'll be right back after I deal with this distraction. Guards, stay with them."

"Of course," Feron agreed amiable before turning around to glare at the two humans. "I'm watching you two. Don't even think about any funny business or my pal Taz here will blast you into a bloody mess your own mother wouldn't recognize!"

Tazzik reinforced the threat by turning his body slightly sideway to show off the grenade launcher clipped to the back of his heavy armor. "Try something, I dare you, Cerberus scum."

"Easy." The human male said with his hands out in an open-palmed display of non-aggression. "We're all here to do business. We're not looking for a fight. I'm sure Warden Kuril will have everything sorted out in short order. All we have to do is stay put and wait. There is no need for violence."

"Whatever." Feron scoffed. "But I'm keeping my eyes on you."

And that was all he needed to do.

x-x-x

Two weeks. Two whole fucking weeks.

Jack curled her upper lip and growled as she stalked towards an empty corner of the mess hall with her tray of slop in hand. Hunched over slightly, she ignoring the throbbing pain shooting up the left side of her body and sat down on the floor with her back to the wall. Even without her reputation, her menacing attitude alone was enough to keep other inmates from crowding her space.

Scanning the room in constant alert, Jack ate quickly with her hands. According to the prison guards, utensils were for decent people, not criminals, though in her opinion, the guards were probably just tired of inmates shanking each other with plastic forks. This also explained the lack of basic amenities, like toothbrushes.

Honestly, Jack wasn't too fussed. At least they fed her here. The last hole she stayed in didn't have enough human food. All they had was this disgusting dextro shit for turians that was designed to mess up her insides. So it wasn't really her fault she busted out after two days.

This time, she was really fucked. What kind of paranoid bastard thought housing convicts in space was a great idea? Fuck, they floated a guy as an example after a minor riot over a small stabbing incident. Apparently the Suns made mad credits off selling the inmates to private interests groups - fancy name for state sanctioned slaving operations - and every dead inmate meant loss revenue for the sickos running this ship.

That was what she was told, anyway.

To Jack, the Blue Suns' legal slaving operation was disgusting and twisted and an unlikely blessing in disguise.

After she was knocked out by a bunch of mercs in ugly white armor on Illium, she was stuffed to the gills with sedative. When she finally came to, Jack found herself inside a jail cell aboard a maximum security prison ship. The many helpful inmates screeched obscenities at her from adjacent cells, telling her in graphic details what they would do to fresh meat - to which, Jack was quite indifferent about. She might not have been able to fight her way out of the ship to sweet sweet freedom, but her biotics were stronger than everyone else put together. If the situation called for it, Jack was confident she could easily turn a few meatbags inside out even without her amp.

Jack knew how to defend herself, and more importantly, she was not stupid. Running with Grey had, unexpectedly, taught her a lot. Whereas once upon a time, Jack might've rammed head on into a fight, now she had learnt the value of keeping her head cool, her eyes and ears open, and her focus firmly on thinking ahead. The inmates were cash cows to the Blue Suns, and evidently, Jack herself was particularly valuable. If the guards would go so far as to not provide utensils and toothbrushes to prevent inmates from killing each other, they would most likely be very displeased if a riot were to break out. Growing up inside a cage, Jack understood better than anyone alive the deep seated hatred prisoners held for their jailor. So when a group of foul smelling inmates finally managed to cornered her after a few days, she used her biotics to snatched up a nearby guard (who had turned a blind eye on the attempted assault) and dumped him in the middle of the dog pile. Her would be assailants drew blood from the guard, and then they just sort of lost it.

It was win-win-win for her. Jack got to quietly slip away amidst the chaos, the shitty guard got the living snot beaten out of him, and the scumbags that tried to put their filthy hands on her were rewarded with solitary confinement for the next decade.

Jack didn't get away clean, unfortunately, though a bruised rib was nothing comparing to what she would have suffered otherwise. And now she had gained a reputation that ensured no one else got too handsy.

She still fucking hated the place. Why did she think it was a good idea to clash with the Shadow Broker anyway? Right, because Grey asked for her help. So. Fucking. Stupid. It was completely messed up just how much she was willing to do for someone she barely knew. She hadn't even seen Grey's face yet.

And the most fucked up part was that Jack couldn't even get angry at Grey. Yup, she wasn't even a tiny bit upset at all. All she felt was a vague "well that sucked" after waking up in a cell with a lump on the back of her head. To be fair, Grey did ask her to check up on a salarian contact, but she didn't ask her to engage a dozen mercs without backup. It was Jack's own arrogance that had gotten her into this steaming pile of crap.

Well, that and crashing a weather station into a hanar sacred moon while high on drell jizz.

So when the alarms began to blare, the first thought that came to Jack was how she wished the noise would just go away so she could finish her lunch in relative peace. The guards looked a bit tense, but they didn't seem worried. A few inmates stirred restlessly at the noise, but seeing the guards strutting about with electric batons hanging off their hips was enough to keep them in line. Experience told her that those glorified cattle prods stung like a bitch. Besides, what was the point of trying? She couldn't run very far without a ship anyway.

Eventually, the noise stopped, and Jack went back to glaring at nothing in particular. If she wasn't going to die from good old fashioned violence because of the strict rules inside this hellhole, Jack was sure she was going to die from boredom any time now.

"Don't move. Don't speak. Blink twice if you can hear me."

Jack froze in place. She recognized that voice. Smirking evilly to herself, Jack blinked twice and felt a small weight drop into her loosely closed fist.

"Go towards E block. Switch it on immediately after you turn right."

Jack followed the whispered instructions without hesitation. With great difficulty, she managed to maintain the blank look of disinterest while inwardly cawing with glee. The item she was given turned out to be a personal cloaking device. As soon as she cleared the corner, she felt a light tap on her shoulder before another small item was slipped into her hand again.

"Put this over your ear and follow the map. Stay low. I'll open all the doors for you."

Clipping the slim visor over her ear, Jack saw a clearly marked path on the map overlay. Having a master thief as a friend was shaping up to be the best thing that could happen to a criminal. She had to stop and wait for Kasumi to hack the surveillance camera surrounding locked doorways a few times, but overall it was almost like a leisurely stroll in the park. Very soon Jack found herself inside an empty jail cell with a sealed airlock. If her gut feeling was right, she just figured out how they were going to get out of this place.

Kasumi de-cloaked and tossed her a breathing mask. "You'll need this."

"Fuck, if you get me out of here, I'm gonna eat your pussy so hard, you'll never crave dicks again." Jack muttered in breathless excitement as she put on the mask tightly.

Kasumi shot her a startled look and put her hands up defensively. "Whoa! Slow down girl. Just because you're dying of thirst doesn't mean I've gotta drink too."

"Alright, fair enough. Let me know if you change your mind 'cause I fucking owe you a big one." Jack didn't take offence from the rejection; she was entirely too pleased by the unscheduled jailbreak to let it dampen her mood. Besides, it wasn't like she really meant it. Expressing gratitude wasn't something she did very often, so it could only be expected that when she tried, she'd end up making all parties involved feel awkward.

Shaking her head in exasperation, Kasumi pulled up her own mask and signalled Jack to brace for impact.

Jack replied wordlessly by pointing at her prison issued rubber boots.

At that, Kasumi palmed her face before grabbing Jack around her waist with both arms. "This doesn't mean I'm taking you up on your offer. Just get your head out of the gutter and hold on tight," she said, and activated the built-in mag-lock function of her combat boots. "In three, two, one…"

The airlock flew open with a great burst of air. When Jack finally regained balance after the ringing inside her ears stopped, she found herself dangling halfway out of the cell, feet first. The only reason she hadn't rocketed aimlessly into the black when all the air exploded out of the cell was because the thief had kept a death grip on her forearm.

Jack looked down, and the familiar sight of the salarian stealth frigate below her almost brought tears of joy to her eyes. Freedom was so close. The absolute silence of the void at this moment was the most peaceful Jack had felt in a long time.

Kasumi pulled on her arm to get her attention. With the life support disabled inside the cell, the mass effect field for the artificial gravity was also shut off. With the help of an air propellor attached to her belt, Kasumi effortlessly dragged her to the rear of Enigma where they climbed in through a maintenance hatch.

Her escape took about ten minutes, but it felt much longer than that.

"I can't believe you guys came to bust me out." Jack tore off the mask and lay down on the floor. With a groan of exertion, she flopped over to her hands and knees and kissed the metal grates lining the hanger bay floor. Now that she was free, all the tension had drained out of her, making her feel more exhausted than ever.

"Don't celebrate yet. We're not in the clear. No until Sh… she comes back." Kasumi said, offering her a hand to pull her up.

That got her attention. With a fresh burst of adrenaline rush, Jack jumped to her feet. "What do you mean? Where's Grey?"

Kasumi gestured her to follow.

The quarian, Tali, was sitting in the pilot's chair and staring intently at the holo-screen when they arrived at the cockpit. It was streaming live helmet-cam footage of a heated argument between an bossy asari in heavy armor and a barefaced turian dressed in the Suns' colour.

"Shit, that's the Warden!" Jack easily recognized the beastly mug. The very first day she got locked up on that ship, the guards made sure all the inmates knew the face of the god that was in charge of the place.

The heavily armed asari was not the least intimidated by the Warden. Her stance showed undisguised hostility and contempt.

"Which part of 'Council Business' don't you understand? Subject Zero is pertinent to our investigation regarding terrorist activities. If you wish to keep your little side business running unimpeded, you will hand her over, Warden." The asari spat out the much feared title like it was an insult.

Jack's eyebrows rose up in surprise. After spending two weeks inside Purgatory, it was gratifying to see the barefaced turian knocked down a peg or two. "Who the hell is the asari?" She asked, looking at Kasumi for answer.

"That, my friend," the thief replied cheekily, "is Tela Vasir, a veteran Council Spectre."

Jack gawked at Kasumi in disbelief. "What the actual fuck?! A Spectre?! How in fuck's name-?"

Tali interrupted her mid-rant. "Please, not now. I've sent out the signal. They're coming back."

Jack turned her attention back to the screen.

The Warden looked unfazed by the Spectre's blatant threat to shut down his operation. "You are forgetting where you stand, Spectre. This is the Terminus systems. The Council has no power here. You've overestimated your self-importance if you think you can waltz in on my ship and make demands. You want Subject Zero, I suggest you get in line. Submit a bid. Hell, throw in a blow job on top, and I might consider it."

Tela Vasir looked absolutely furious. Ever part of her screamed aggression, but she had somehow managed to restrain herself from slinging biotics. Jack was impressed. "This isn't over yet. Mark my word." The asari tossed out one more parting line before she whirled around and marched back towards the dock. The angle of the camera turned a second later to follow the Spectre out, and Jack didn't miss the triumphant smirk on the Warden's smug face.

"Ok, we're leaving." Tali let out a cheer and began the take off sequence.

Twenty seconds later, and they were flying away from the awful prison ship for the last time.

Plopping down heavily on a seat in the bridge, Jack finally let out a relieved sigh when the ship entered stealth mode. She was still recovering from the shock that they had actually busted her out of the most secure prison in this side of the galaxy. "Fuck, you guys are crazy. I need a drink."

"So this is what I risked my neck for? Can't say it's much to look at." Purred a velvety voice from behind her.

Jack turned to glare at the two newcomers. The asari looked intimidating enough in person, but it wasn't so much about her look, or the fact that she was a freaking Spectre. Tela Vasir's very presence was enough to set Jack's teeth on edge.

"Come on. Do you have to pick a fight every time you meet someone new?" As soon as the second person spoke, Jack knew it was Grey. The Boss Lady was standing at the entrance to the bridge with her hands on her hips while dressed in full C-Sec hardsuit. In hindsight, it was stupidly obvious Grey was the one wearing the helmet-cam. Who else could it be? "Jack is a biotic. She can sense your aura trick, so quit it."

The asari pouted petulantly at Grey at the mild rebulk. A pouting Spectre. Fuck. Now Jack had seen everything.

"Right." Grey walked up and gave her a discreet once over. "How are you holding up? That bruise looks pretty nasty. We've got medi-gel in the infirmary."

The way Grey said it made her think she had some idea what it was like, being locked up and surrounded by stinking lowlifes with zero self-control. She was attacked but nothing came of it, and it wasn't like she hadn't had way worse, so Jack shrugged nonchalantly at the question. "Nah, I'll live. Is there a toothbrush around?"

"Toothbrush?" Grey repeated dumbly.

"Yeah, the shit you clean your teeth with."

"Um. Check the cabinet under the bathroom sink."

"Perfect." Jack slapped Grey once on her shoulder and went off to search for the thing she missed the most for the past two weeks - basic human decency.

It was good to be back.

x-x-x

A/N: Rasa was the identity Maya Brooks assumed during her stint working for Cerberus. She was featured heavily in the Mass Effect comic books. Again, this chapter is longer than usual because I can't find a good place to break.