Chapter Thirty-One
The Ballad of Calisto Callahan

Mindoir, Attican Traverse

Second Lieutenant Miranda Lawson was questioning whether her pseudo friendship with Jack Zero was really a good idea. In what universe was it ever a good idea? she asked herself as she stuffed another forkful of barely edible rehydrated food into her mouth. You're two entirely different people. Just because you've stopped hating each other, doesn't mean you should be friends.

Miranda wasn't in the habit of playing with her food, but she couldn't bring herself to lift another mouthful to her lips. The mess chef had grandly labelled it chilli con carne. As far as Miranda was concerned, it looked and tasted like she imagined vomit would look and taste. Unfortunately, it was the best the marines in her unit could hope for. The last two scheduled supply drops hadn't arrived. The previous one had contained less than half their requirements. As CO, Jack was loath to start requisitioning food from Mindoir's farmers. They were hardy enough, but had only recently managed to re-establish themselves in the wake of the Reaper War. The marines would make do with their stockpiles of MREs until they were resupplied. With an immense effort, Miranda made herself eat a little more. Across the table, Jack was digging into her own food with gusto.

A full mouth didn't stop Jack from offering banal attempts at conversation. "So, I bet Williams is strictly a bottom. Tough marine out in the field, fucking vanilla between the sheets."

The level of conversation made the food taste even worse. Miranda swallowed. It slithered down her throat and made her gag slightly. "No comment."

Jack grinned triumphantly. "And you love being in control. It all fits. This is fucking brilliant. Do you ever play Alliance soldier, Cerberus operative?"

"There is no such game," Miranda replied tautly.

"Of course there is. You pretend you've captured her, start doing experiments on her where she needs to be tied up-"

"I'd stop right there, Jack, before you embarrass yourself even further."

"I'm not embarrassed. Are you?"

"Stop being such a child."

"Didn't get a childhood thanks to Cerberus." Jack suddenly started laughing at the moment that Miranda began to put on her 'here we go again' expression. "You should see your face. I'm shitting you. I'm trying out this new thing where I pretend you were never part of Cerberus. It's working pretty well so far. At least until I look at you. You are such a buzzkill, Cheerleader."

"Try dropping the cheerleader part too," Miranda suggested as she swirled her fork around in her food. She stopped herself.

"Nah, you still look like a cheerleader. You want to talk about something else?"

"I would rather we ate in silence."

"If I wanted to do that, I'd eat by my fucking self," Jack replied. She grabbed her tray as though preparing to leave. "Fine, I get it, you just don't want to talk to me."

Miranda sighed when she looked across and saw the petulant expression on Jack's face. "What do you want to talk about, Jack?"

Jack grinned. "I bet Williams is a screamer…or at least really filthy in bed."

Miranda was mercifully saved by the pinging of her omni-tool.

"I've got an incoming call from the SSV Normandy, ma'am." It was their comms specialist. "I can only give you five minutes on the horn so you'd better haul ass over to the radio shack pronto."

"So does that mean you're done with lunch?"

Jack's question only barely filtered through her fear as Miranda hastily scraped back her chair. She offered a careless nod before running out of the mess hall. She had drawn up a meticulous schedule of calls between herself and Ashley that took into account their respective downtime. There was nothing scheduled for another three days. Miranda could only assume that there was some sort of emergency. Still, if Ash herself was placing the call then it meant that she was safe at least. Although had the comms specialist actually said anything about Ashley? Miranda ran faster.

Relief flowed through her entire body when she heard Ashley's perfectly healthy sounding voice, albeit slightly faint. {M? Thank God. For a moment there I thought your techie wasn't going to get you.}

"Hey you," Miranda savoured the sound of Ashley's voice. "Don't blame him, we're busy trying to establish urgent contact with HQ. It's just a requisition error but it's piled on top of two previous errors. It's all unimportant. You're three days early. Is everything okay?"

{Of course. I'm just going to be off comms for a while, a few days, four or five at the most. I wanted to get in a few minutes with my favourite girl first.}

"Favourite? Are there others?" Miranda demanded. "Williams, do I need to fight to keep you, because I guarantee that I would win." The sound of laughter followed. Miranda was about to smile, then she realised something. She knew Ashley's laugh almost as well as she knew her own and this one sounded forced. "I don't suppose you're going to tell me where you're going, other than the fact that I already know you're swanning around in the Terminus somewhere."

{It's just a dog and pony show,} Ashley replied.

Miranda had absolutely no idea what that meant, but she took some reassurance from the casual manner in which it rolled off Ashley's tongue. "Just another day in the office?"

{Something like that,} Ashley said. {Hey, are you still in contact with my sisters? Not that I care if you aren't, I was just-}

"Ash," Miranda interrupted. "Of course I write to your sisters. I get more messages from Abby than I get from you. Although I did forget to tell you that she passed my address onto Sarah. It's not the same as meeting in person, but I feel like I'm getting to know her. All three of them really. Although Lynn is about as bad at writing as you are."

{I'm glad. I guess I was always a little worried that you wouldn't get along. I mean, with you not having any siblings and being a little…} Ash's voice trailed off.

Miranda laughed. "Uptight? You can say it, babe. And no, I love them all immensely."

There was a drawn out pause on the other end of the line. At first Miranda thought they had been disconnected, then she heard a clearly audible intake of breath. "Miranda…if anything were to happen to me, would you look out for them? I know they're all grown women, but they still need a big sister from time to time."

"You know I would. It goes without-" Miranda's breath caught in her throat. For several moments she struggled to breathe, as though someone had wrapped their fingers around her heart and started squeezing mercilessly. It wasn't necessary to ask Ashley why she had felt the need to ask that particular question. "Ash…" Her voice sounded so small and frightened that Miranda did not recognise it as her own. Thoughts reeled through her head. Mostly demands. Demands that Ash pull out of whatever duty she faced. That Ash tell her the Normandy's destination. Or even that Ash be honest with her as to just how dangerous it was. Finally the demand that they both walk away from the duty that kept them apart. "Ash," Miranda finally continued. "Please stay safe. You've got promises to keep."

{You know me, M. I'm always careful.}

Outside of the QEC booth, the specialist was making an urgent gesture to cut the conversation. Miranda hated him and his slavish devotion to duty. She hated herself for the same reason. "I'm scheduling another call in a week. Will you be back in contact by then?"

{If all goes to plan.}

If all goes to plan. So many variables. Including the one that led to Ashley never coming back. "You know how much I love you?"

{Nope,} Ash tried to inject a little humour into her voice. {But if it's half as much as I love you, then I'm pretty fucking lucky.}

"Talk to you soon, marine." The words left Miranda's lips like a promise

{You got a date, sweet cheeks.}

The call ended. Miranda made her way outside. It was moving into winter on Mindoir, and the sky was covered in a heavy grey blanket that suited her mood perfectly. Not for the first time she considered walking away from everything. She wouldn't even bother to resign her commission. She would just quit. And if she could somehow convince Ash to join her, then they could start a life together. An actual life. One where making love was an everyday occurrence as opposed to something that took place in rundown motel rooms a few times a year.

Jack was leaning against the exterior of the comms shack. Miranda had never seen a CO do less work, and yet somehow everything managed to get done. For someone who was driven to remain busy at every moment, it was infuriating. Jack was also the last person that Miranda wanted to talk to.

"What do you want?" Miranda asked coldly. "I don't want to participate in any more of your puerile attempts at conversation."

Jack scowled. "Thought you might've got some bad news. I wanted to be here, you know, in case you were upset or some shit. But nope. You're still a bitch. So everything must be okay."

Miranda couldn't think of anything worse than crying in front of Jack. Plus she wasn't sure that Jack would have the slightest clue as to what to do. Regardless, Miranda realised she appreciated the gesture.

"Everything is okay," Miranda replied succinctly.

"Great," Jack fired back. "Then I need you to take a squad and a couple of our techies up onto the south ridge to fix that early warning system."

"I thought we were still waiting on replacement parts?"

"We are, but Collins reckons he can rig something up that will hold out for a week or two."

Miranda glanced southwards to the distant line of green and grey that traced the horizon. It was a shitty duty to say the least. She'd heard that the last two hundred metres of the ridge was too steep for their decrepit Grizzlys. A Mako could have made it, but Miranda and her squad would be humping it on foot. There was always the remote possibility that Jack was just trying to help keep her occupied. It was unlikely, but with their newfound 'friendship', Miranda couldn't rule it out.

"We'll get it done." Miranda promised. "Don't wait up for us tonight through." It was strictly a two day job.

"Whatever," Jack shrugged. "Watch out for nathaks though, Cheerleader. I'd hate to have to do all the work around here myself."


Location Withheld, Terminus Systems

"Miranda is going to kill me," Ashley Williams murmured to herself.

Clad in just her underwear, the captain of the Normandy gaped in disbelief at her almost unrecognisable reflection. She was both horrified and strangely fascinated by this stranger staring back at her. That's the point, she reminded herself. You're not supposed to be you. Still, she could overlook the fact that her dark hair was now a vivid purple and the lens that made her appear blind in one eye. Both were easily reversible. The vivid streaks of colour that marred her skin however, were a different story altogether.

A marine was supposed to have tattoos. Or at least a traditional unit badge tattooed into their bicep or a forearm. Ash had always found a reason not to get inked. Mostly using the excuse that she didn't want her younger sisters to copy her. Always hiding the fact that she just didn't want one. Now she was the owner of several spectacular pieces of body art, none of which she would have chosen for herself. Not even if she were blind drunk. Blind drunk and with a pistol pressed to her temple. Ash turned so she could see her back, grimacing as she stared at the thresher maw trailing down one shoulder blade, all the way to her butt cheek. A mess of gaudy flowers covered one bicep, a smoking Revenant the other. By far the worst was the naked asari now reclining across her abdomen. Although perfectly executed, Ash winced each time she caught a glimpse of the figure – its head thrown back, tits thrust upward, one hand buried between its legs. Ash felt sick to her stomach. Miranda was definitely going to kill her, immediately after vowing never to sleep with her again.

With a sigh, Ash started dressing. She pulled on unfamiliar clothes, completing her transformation from Captain Ashley Williams into Calisto Callahan – pirate, slaver, murderess, and owner of the Galaxy's worst tattoos.

Several minutes later the Nest's door chime sounded. Ash glanced at the time. 0700. It was Kurin, reporting for her final briefing as second in command. When the asari captain walked in, Ash failed to suppress a shocked expression. While her own outfit, mostly leather with an inadequate amount of ceramic plating, left only her abdomen and arms bare, Kurin was largely naked. Other than a bra and thong, Kurin wore nothing except a pair of heeled boots and a small smile. The latter was obviously in response to Ashley's expression.

"I know what you're thinking," Kurin announced. Her smile completely at odds with the circumstances. "Where the hell is she keeping her gun?"

Ash continued to stare, speechless.

"You don't need to look so horrified, Captain. In some parts of Thessia this would be considered overdressed."

"We're not going to Thessia, Kurin," Ashley felt the need to remind her. "It's a remote asteroid full of mercs. And you're going in dressed like…that."

"Yes." Much to Ash's confusion and frustration, Kurin appeared blithely unconcerned by this fact. She crossed the short distance between them and sidled up to Ash in an overly familiar fashion. "Because you, Calisto, are a notorious merc, infamous for your love of asari flesh and I am that current piece of flesh."

"And I want you to walk around half-naked?" Ash sked dubiously. "Can't I feel sorry for you and at least let you wear a decent pair of trousers? Ashley knew it was a stupid question. She'd spent the past week going over every inch of her cover until she felt she knew Callahan as well as she knew herself. Hell, the tattoos weren't fake. They were goddamn real and they hurt like fuck. Clearly her 'piece of flesh' couldn't be fake either.

Kurin studied her intently. "I need to know if you can do this."

Ash deflected the question back at the asari. "Can you do this, Kurin?"

"I'm a fucking commando, Williams," Kurin replied, abandoning any attempt at sticking to her cover. "We spend our lives training for this sort of shit – decades, centuries."

"Some spend centuries, but not you," Ash commented quietly. She watched Kurin's mask slip slightly. It wasn't her intention to bate her fellow officer, and certainly not to doubt her. However, she desperately needed to know what made her tick. Despite all the time they had spent together and the time to come, Ash felt as though she barely knew Kurin. "I heard one of your commandos say you went to school with Liara T'Soni. That would make you what, 111, 112 at the most?"

Kurin snarled. "I am 113, but don't for a second think that you can use this to doubt my credentials. It takes decades of training to even be allowed to call yourself a commando, but I was born to be one. The Kurins have been warriors for millennia. I won't fail them. I am far more nervous about being under the command of a human with so little command experience." She gave Ashley a hard stare. "So why don't we stop doubting each other and start showing some trust? Because if we don't, then we're both going to die on that rock. And I for one would prefer to live, at least a little longer."

"I trust you…implicitly," Ash replied sincerely. "I never doubted that. It was just that…I'm going about this the wrong way. I'm just worried about you, and seeing you dressed like that doesn't help matters."

"You're concerned about me?" Kurin asked in disbelief. The harsh edge had disappeared from her voice. "Don't be. As long as you play your part, I'll be the safest one on that rock. Remember, Calisto, you own me. I am your property. Anyone touches me, they answer to you. Can you be that woman?"

Ash clenched her jaw, biting down hard for a few moments. She dredged up memories of the pain she'd felt whilst getting the tattoos and used them to drive the anger she knew she needed. Raw physicality flooded her veins. Without warning she surged forward, using her body to slam Kurin up against the bulkhead behind them. She felt the corresponding jarring throughout the asari's body. She drew on the mantle of the merc she'd studied to become, slipping into her new life like a second skin. With a sudden rush of blood to the head, she claimed Kurin's lips in a bruising kiss. There wasn't a trace of tenderness. As Kurin responded with a savagery of her own, Ash found it difficult to tell which thoughts were actually her own and which were driven by the base instincts of the persona she'd assumed. Surely the desperate desire to rip aside the flimsy thong and thrust her fingers deep inside Kurin had to belong to someone else. It had to.

When she finally drew away, Ash found herself panting with need. At any other time, the blatant display would have left her ashamed. Now she lingered in her arousal, holding it around herself like a shield.

"We've got work to do," Ash growled. Even her voice no longer sounded like her own.


Several hours earlier, Sam had watched from a viewing port as the SSV Normandy SR-2 grew smaller and smaller until it vanished from sight. She was aboard a state of the art asari frigate that had been purloined and renamed the Whirling Whore, vessel of the infamous Calisto Callahan and her Corsairs. It had seemed terrific fun at first, but as Sam had watched her home disappear from view, she knew that there would be very little fun to be found where they were headed. It was why she had memorised the sleek lines of the Normandy one more time.

Now she sat in a state of limbo, waiting with most of the crew in the cramped quarters of the Whore. Some of the commandos were sleeping. Westmoreland and Campbell were engaged in a subdued game of Skyllian Five. They'd asked Sam to join, but she politely declined, preferring to be alone with her own thoughts.

Sam didn't know whether to be grateful that her merc outfit left her decently covered or peeved that someone thought she couldn't pull off the same half-naked appearance that the rest of the crew had donned. On the other side of the room, Gunnery Sergeant Petrova caught her eye. The rapacious smile that spread across the blonde woman's face made Sam worry that her thoughts were written on her forehead. Just for a moment, Sam let her eyes linger over the other marine's taut abdominal muscles. Her brazen confidence she blamed on the company she currently kept – commandos and combat marines. Petrova wasn't helping matters. Sam could have sworn she saw the Gunny's tongue trail across her upper lip. She dismissed it immediately. Either it was her over-active imagination or Petrova getting settled into her character. Still…Sam caught a glimpse of herself in a reflective panel. Although she was fully covered, she had to admit that her black outfit was tight. Okay, it was skin tight. It revealed absolutely everything. - every curve and line of her body. Sam then forced herself to re-evaluate the one thing she had been stubbornly ignoring – her haircut. She reached up and brushed the tips of her fingers against the side of her head. The stubble felt oddly smooth, rippling beneath her touch. When she shifted her attention to the longer hair on top, sweeping a few errant strands back across her forehead, Sam realised she was preening. Admit it, Sam, she told herself. You think you look shit hot…and maybe a little butch.

A voice over the comm interrupted her. "Traynor, I need you up front."

Nerves quickly returned as Sam navigated her way through the unfamiliar passages of the Whirling Whore. She had to admit that the asari frigate was a work of art. Exactly where they had managed to obtain such a vessel within the space of a week, Sam had no idea. Much like the logistics behind their entire operation. Who the hell had come up with the name, the Whirling Whore? She fervently hoped that there would be a time in the future where she could laugh about the name of their vessel over a couple of drinks.

There was no familiar CIC, instead the captain sat in a chair directly behind the pilots. Williams sat there now. Calisto, Sam reminded herself. For the duration of the mission, Ashley Williams didn't exist. Sam still felt slightly ashamed when she remembered her squawk of horror upon seeing her captain with purple hair, one eye, and a collection of tattoos. With the dramatic change in appearance, Ashley seemed to have been consumed by her new persona. Even her mannerisms had changed into a crude approximation of the woman Sam knew. Commander Kurin was also in character, draped across the wide arm of Ashley's chair, one arm stretched out. Her fingers stroked the back of the Captain's head as though they were lovers. It was convincing enough for Sam to feel jealous on behalf of Miranda Lawson. She had absolutely no doubt that the raven-haired woman's reaction would involve expletives and biotics.

At the sound of footsteps behind her, Ashley glanced over her shoulder. Other than a slight twitch of her lip, there was no acknowledgement or welcome. She jerked her head toward a nearby console. Sam knew that the time had come for her to prove her worth. Filling the view screen at the fore of the cockpit, was Gurkan itself. An otherwise non-descript asteroid, it was made remarkable by the fact that it was tethered to the hulk of a Reaper. Or the Reaper was tethered to the asteroid. It was difficult to tell as they were both the same size. Sam had seen more than enough of the insectoid beings to last a lifetime, but this one still made her skin crawl.

On the asteroid's surface, Sam could make out a collection of structures, lights twinkling in the inky darkness. The space around the asteroid wasn't exactly teeming with ships, but there were enough to rival the size of an Alliance Fleet. Not to mention the ring of defence cannons in orbit.

"Vessel approaching on coordinates two-nineteen, who the fuck are you?"

Used to the professionalism of the Alliance, Sam was taken aback slightly. Her mouth worked soundlessly as her mind struggled to keep up. She was all too aware that there were at least a dozen pairs of eyes fixed on her, all waiting for her to deliver. C'mon, Sam, focus. You screw this up and everyone is dead. In this case, 'everyone' was fifteen crewmembers – human and asari. Some, like Westmoreland and Campbell, were friends. Others she knew by sight only. Sam had never felt so inadequate.

"Gurkan, this is the Whirling Whore." Sam tried to make herself sound a little less Oxbridge, a little more street. She failed miserably. "You've heard of Calisto Callahan? She's one bitch you don't want to keep waiting."

"I've got you on my list, Whirling Whore. Transmit the initiating code now."

Sam quickly punched in the code they'd been provided by their unidentified benefactor. That part was straightforward enough. However, even after the code cleared, the strict security made gaining entry like peeling an onion – there were more layers beneath. The initiating code was then used to generate an additional password. The problem was that the Corsairs lacked the closely guarded decryption programme needed to translate the code. Instead they had Sam.

"Looking good so far, Whirling Whore. What's today's magic word?"

The code flashed up onto the screen in front of Sam. Almost immediately her mind began working. At a glance she deduced the type of code and keyed up one of the decryption programmes she'd spent the week working on. It was far more advanced than anything she mucked around with in her university days. Sam unleashed the programme. Like a hound, it began ferreting through lines of code as she watched. Each successive layer was stripped away, almost effortlessly, but Sam felt the pressure of time. The password was supposed to have been generated instantly.

"Where does a girl go to get a drink down there, Gurkan?" Sam played for time.

"Depends if she's got a nice ass on her?" was the predictable reply.

"There are some damn fine arses on the Whore," Sam replied, being perfectly honest about the flesh on display. "Trust me, your boys aren't going to be short on company."

"Your voice alone is enough to make me fucking hard, sweet tits."

Sam wanted to gag at the thought, but she forced herself to laugh. Her programme was on the brink of a breakthrough. Everything was pounding. Her fingers. Her heartbeat. One foot tapped out a frenzied rhythm on the floor.

"I'll be needing that password, Whirling Whore."

"Amongst other things," Sam said in what she hoped was a sultry voice. She feared that it emerged as a panicked squeak. The password was so close so could almost smell it. There, she had it! She didn't know where the hell it came from, but an almost hysterical laugh bubbled from her lips. "The password is Blue rose of Ilium."

"Love that poem," the voice on the other end said with surprisingly sincerity. "Heard the poet died in the war. Tragic. He was a real talent. You're cleared to proceed, Whirling Whore. Welcome to Gurkan."

"Thank you," Sam replied.

She felt as though she was going to pass out. Instead she remained on her feet, albeit with the assistance of the console in front of her. She sagged with immense relief. If she'd expected some sort of congratulations or even gratitude when she finally looked up to meet the gazes that were directed at her, she received none. Instead, Ashley cleared her throat.

"Listen up. From this point forward there's no going back." Ashley regarded the assorted women and asari who made up her 'crew.' She caught Sam's eye. The hard expression on her face didn't waver, but the gaze lingered just long enough for Sam to know that it was meant to be reassuring. Sam responded with a taut nod, even as she wished that she were able to summon up even a fraction of Ashley's composure. "You all know what we're flying into. It's a pit full of the vilest mercs you'll ever cross. They will smell the fear on you and they will not hesitate to slit your throat if you fuck up. So don't fuck up. Stick to your cover stories, stick together, and we'll get the job done. The task at hand is the only thing that matters. There are a hell of a lot of people relying on us putting that Reaper out of commission, even if they don't know it. I'm not about to let them down."

Sam waited for something pithy about coming out alive, but it never came. Although she'd known all along that there was a high probability that they would all die, the threat had never felt so immediate.

"And now for the fun part," Ashley punctuated Sam's fears in a hard, determined voice.

The frigate began its approach trajectory towards Gurkan…and the Reaper.


Gurkan, Terminus Systems

Ashley previously thought that Erinle took the prize for being the vilest cesspit in the Galaxy. However as soon as her boots hit the inner airlock within Gurkan's main complex, she realised exactly how wrong she had been. The stench almost physically assaulted her as she entered. It slammed into her nostrils with the force of hundreds of unwashed bodies, alcohol, piss, vomit and other smells Ash knew she was better off not knowing. The pads of her fingers remained pressed against the bare skin of Kurin's lower back. The asari felt cold and clammy. Ash wondered how much of that was normal, and how much was fear.

Gurkan was not a nice place. Regardless of the icy cold persona she had adopted, she still didn't want Sam Traynor being exposed to anymore of it than was necessary. However as she turned to order Traynor back to the ship, she caught sight of their welcoming party. Two Krogan jostled for prominence at the forefront, both wearing the colours of Gurkan's de facto ruler, Aggra. They were followed by half a dozen henchmen, mostly Batarians, although there was one human.

"Calisto Callahan I presume?" The lead Krogan announced in a guttural growl. "Your reputation precedes you."

Ash left Kurin's side. She stepped forward and extended her hand. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Her gloved hand was dwarfed by that of the Krogan as he enveloped it in a massive, crushing grip. Ash smiled despite feeling as though every bone in her hand was about to break.

"I am Mrath, son of Aggra. This is my brother, Sarl." Mrath jerked his head to the much smaller Krogan at his side.

Ash had met the tank bred Krogan, Grunt, on several occasions. She could tell that Sarl was also relatively young. His head plates were yet to fuse. He was also nowhere near as menacing as his brother, wearing a grin on his face as he stared at the Corsairs with barely concealed pleasure.

"I am bid by my father to welcome you and personally invite you to a gathering in two days. You've arrived just in time, Calisto, big things are happening. The rest of the Galaxy will soon be trembling before us."

"Sounds fucking awesome," Ash replied, resisting the temptation to flex her fingers as soon as Mrath let them go. Still, it was so far so good. The identity that Liara had created was so far performing perfectly. "Didn't come all this way just to rub tits with a bunch of scumbags though. I want to see it."

"Saw it when you came in didn't you?" Mrath snorted.

Ash lurched forward. "I want to spit on the fucking thing! You may have been hiding in this hole during the war, but I lost a lot of good girls to the fucking Reapers."

"Watch your tone, human. I fought on Palaven for all the thanks I got from those damn Turian bastards."

"Yeah," Ash smiled in consolation. "For all the thanks we got from the Council or any of those fuckers. You help save the Galaxy and you're back to scraping out a living in the ass end of nowhere."

Mrath grinned. "I'm beginning to like you, Calisto. Follow me. You wanna get up close to our not-so-secret weapon? Be my guest."

As she followed Mrath and Sarl, Ash had to admit that Aggra's operation on Gurkan was impressive. It was a cesspit, but it was an impressive cesspit. It reminded her of Omega without Aria – an even more dangerous powder keg, liable to explode at any moment without the stabilising influence of an inflexible ruler.

At some point Gurkan had obviously been a mining facility. Probably Salarian or asari. Ash didn't know for sure and didn't care. Unlike Omega, it had been tapped out. The once functional dome-like structures were given over to a ramshackle collection of pre-fabs and temporary shelters. Above everything, at the heart of the settlement, the Reaper towered over Gurkan like a sinister sentinel.

"I've got to ask, what the hell is it doing here?" Ash asked, hoping she wasn't pushing her luck.

Mrath glanced over his shoulder. He puffed out his already impressive chest. "It was a gift to Clan Aggra."

"A gift?" Ash asked dubiously.

"Marking us as chosen," Mrath continued.

"In other words-" Kurin leaned close to Ash, whispering "-he doesn't have a fucking clue."


Despite constantly wishing she was someplace else, Sam banished her fear for long enough to appreciate the fact that she was within arm's length of an actual Reaper. There had been the hulks of course, empty shells spread like discarded technology throughout the Galaxy. Dead, lifeless rubbish.

The docking arm extending out from Gurkan's surface had been modified to fit the immense Reaper. Although the patchwork job around the seal worried Sam less than the glossy, midnight surface in front of her.

The Reaper in front of her was alive. Sam could feel it even before she approached. A vibrant hum that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. And a voice. It was indiscernible, not consisting of actual words but rather a constant murmuring. Much like the rushing of a river far off in the distance. She cast her glance towards Ash, Kurin, and the rest of the Corsairs, wondering if they too heard the voice. For some reason, Sam knew that she was the only one. A strange compulsion tugged at her hand. Her fingers twitched toward the Reaper's skin, but she forced herself to stop.

"You can touch it if you want."

Sam almost leapt out of her skin at the guttural sounds unleashed so close to her ear. She spun on her heels. Came face to face with an exceptionally broad grin on a face that only a mother could love…and even then Sam wasn't so sure.

"I've tried, it doesn't hurt," the Krogan continued.

"Um, I'd rather not. Quite happy just looking. Thanks," Sam said quickly. She turned her attention back to the Reaper, studying it intently in the hope that the Krogan would grow bored.

Minutes passed. Sam could still hear the faint whispering. It was quieter now. Difficult to make out over the voices around her, but still very much present. It was both unnerving and fascinating. Without realising entirely what she was doing, Sam peeled off her glove. Her bare fingertips she extended towards the dark skin. No one else seemed to be paying any attention to her. The pads of her fingers pressed against the Reaper for the barest second.

{Samantha Traynor.}

Sam jerked her hand back as though burned. Someone…or something, had clearly whispered her name. She glanced around. Jumped when she saw that the Krogan was still watching her.

"Was it you? Did you say my name?" she asked cautiously.

He chuckled. It was a low, almost gentle rumble. "I would gladly say it if I knew it," he replied. "I am Sarl."

"Sarl?" Sam repeated. A memory triggered. She suddenly remembered hearing him introduced as the brother of the loud brute that was currently talking to Ash. The son of Aggra, the clan chief who ruled Gurkan. "Oh…" she whispered. He stood staring at her expectantly and Sam realised that he was waiting for her name. "I'm Traynor, Sam Traynor." She wished that someone had seen fit to give her a pirate name like Calisto Callahan, but she was stuck with plain old Sam Traynor. Still, who exactly was she trying to impress? Sarl, son of Aggra?

"Do I call you Traynor…Sam, or Sam Traynor?" Sarl asked, his heavyset brow furrowed deeply. "Human names are confusing."

"Um, Sam I guess," she offered. She still hadn't forgotten that the Reaper seemed to know her name. That and the fact that a Krogan was hitting on her. Sam wasn't sure which unnerved her more. The entire group eventually began walking away from the Reaper. Sam longed to be able to eavesdrop on the conversation between Mrath and Ashley, but instead she was stuck near the back, talking with a Krogan. Albeit a very friendly one. "So…nice operation your Dad has here."

"Yeah, I guess," he rumbled. He leaned a little closer to Sam and whispered conspiratorially, "This thing kinda gives me the creeps though." He said it as though the Reaper might overhear them.

"My hair is standing on end," Sam agreed. She scrubbed at the back of her neck. The shaven area there was prickly. She suddenly missed the comfort of having a full weight of hair on her head.

"So, how does a human female like you end up as a pirate?" Sarl asked.

"You know," Sam shrugged. "Bad role models, bad life choices. Still, Calisto's better than most – she keeps the flogging to a minimum."

"She flogs you?" Sarl sounded outraged.

"No, it was a joke," Sam replied quickly. "No flogging, just boozing and whoring, like a proper pirate." Like a proper pirate? Sam, who the hell are you trying to fool? You're a bloody pathetic pirate.

She was so busy beating herself up about being a crap pirate that she didn't see a discarded piece of rubble lying in her path. Her shin smacked against it painfully and she stumbled forward. The only thing between her and an embarrassingly painful collision with the ground was a very solid, Krogan-sized arm. Sarl swept her to one side. His huge faced creased with concern.

"It's a minefield on this shithole," he warned her. "Be careful."

"Yeah, of course," Sam mumbled. When I said I would start dating, this isn't exactly what I had in mind, she thought with an awkward grin.

"So, this boozing that you pirate girls do," Sarl said quietly – or at least as quietly as it was possible for a Krogan to speak. "Do you ever do it in private, perhaps over a fine Thessian Red?"

Oh shit, Sam's grin turned into a grimace.


After spending two days on Gurkan, Ash felt soiled in a way that felt as though it would stay with her forever. No amount of showers would be able to scrub the filth from her skin or the memories of what she had witnessed. Gurkan was nothing like Omega. It was immeasurably more lawless, if that were possible. On Omega everything was done in the shadows. Murder. Fucking. On Gurkan it was done in the open. Ash's Corsairs had already foiled several attempts on her life. She'd personally sliced the tentacle off a hanar who got a more than a slight grope of her ass cheek. Not to mention the dozens who had dared to proposition Kurin. Ash fervently hoped that she'd made her position clear. Her knuckles were already red raw. The big meeting that Mrath had promised couldn't come soon enough.

Ashley's actual experience with the Krogan race was relatively limited. There were the ones that had spent a great deal of time trying to kill her of course, but she was no longer that young marine who readily stereotyped all aliens as untrustworthy and to be avoided. She counted Wrex as a friend, but the old son of a bitch was softer than he cared to admit. The Krogan of Clan Aggra were something else altogether. Ambitious, buoyed by the belief of being 'chosen,' they were dangerous and unpredictable. The Clan chief himself, Aggra, was a battle-scarred warrior who carried himself with an air of arrogance. He had barely a word of acknowledgment for the Calisto and her Corsairs. Not a bad thing, Ash thought as she settled into her place amongst the merc leaders and their designates.

The gathering place had at one point been an industrial area, probably filled with mining equipment judging by the scraps still left fixed in place. Now it was largely empty save for the remaining equipment, trash and gangways up above. Almost every available spot was taken. Aggra took his place at the front of the room, seated on something that could have been called a throne. Ash noted with interest that neither of his sons sat at his side. Mrath was almost seated opposite, just below the Corsairs. Sarl had actually approached them, craning his thick neck for a glimpse of someone. Ashley supposed he was looking for Sam. She'd fielded several panicked questions from the young woman, seeking advice as to how to deal with her Krogan suitor. Ash had simply advised her to stay out of the way. The Ops Chief had remained on board the Whirling Whore on Ashley's orders. Upon seeing the disappointed expression on Sarl's face, Ash almost felt sorry for him. As far as Krogan went, he did seem kind of sweet.

Although immense, the space was almost unbearably hot and stuffy. Ash had a thin sheen of sweat covering her forehead and more trickling down the back of her neck. Kurin settled, instinctively, on her lap. Half a dozen Corsairs took places around them, like a protective shield. As Kurin absently stroked Ash's hair away from her forehead Ash questioned, not for the first time, just how much the asari was enjoying her role. It was difficult to tell. The real Kurin was buried beneath layers of well-feigned subservience and oddly compelling affection. You have a partner, Ash reminded herself, almost wincing as Kurin kissed the side of her neck. The kiss wasn't horrible, and that was the problem.

"You're too tense," Kurin mouthed against her ear. "Relax a little. Try to look more like a caged nathak, less like a skewered pyjak."

"And you need to stop looking like you're the one giving the orders," Ash growled.

"Then let's go somewhere private."

Ash's gaze darted from side to side. Although Aggra had made no move to stand and commence his address, it could only be a matter of minutes. "The meeting's about to start!"

"And Calisto Callaghan desperately wants a last minute fuck," Kurin whispered.

With a guttural growl of irritation, Ash rose to her feet and levered Kurin up with her. She motioned for the rest of the Corsairs to stay put. She hustled Kurin from the main space, noticing a few catcalls and whistles as they left.

In the quiet of a dark alcove half a minute later, Ash felt sick to her stomach. Kurin shrugged off her act, returning to the experienced commando she was.

"You need to tread carefully here, Williams," Kurin explained in a matter-of-fact tone. "You want to show your support, but not be so vocal as to draw attention to yourself."

"Gotcha."

Ash blinked in the semi-darkness. She was tired, anxious and aroused beyond all reasonable limits. If this was what it truly meant to be a SpecTRe, then Ash didn't know whether she was cut out to be one. She preferred the simplicity of a rifle and a target. For a long moment, she sagged against the wall behind her. Her thoughts were a chaotic mess.

"Williams…Ashley? Look at me," Kurin insisted.

Reluctantly, Ash met the asari's eyes. They were dark, glistening orbs. Impossible to read. Impossible to resist. Ash kissed her. Soundly. Without pretext, without any need to convince others that this life was real. If Kurin was stunned by the sudden move, she didn't let it show. Instead the commando responded, her eagerness apparent in the small things. The small moan that escaped her lips. The way her body undulated forward, seeking friction.

Kissing Kurin was nothing like kissing Miranda. Instead, Kurin's lips were both hot and cold beneath Ash's own. The texture was hard and soft, but continually drawing her in deeper. Ash didn't resist. She was so hungry.

An indeterminate amount of time passed. Ash finally forced an end to the kiss before things got out of hand. Pressing both hands to Kurin's chest, she placed some much-needed distance between them. Her ragged breaths made pushing the incident to the back of her mind impossible.

"This doesn't mean…" Ash's voice trailed off. Doesn't mean what? That I want to fuck someone other than Miranda? Fuck! "Can we just get back out there. I know what I have to do."

Kurin's grin was broad. Her teeth flashed. A proper shit-eating grin. It seemed like this was fun for her. Ash was out of her depth.

"I'm supporting that fat mother-fucker, check. Is there any point where I get to wipe the smile off his asshole son's face?"

"You're wasted as a marine, Williams," Kurin replied. "You were born to be a pirate."

They managed to return to their seats without further incident. Ash made an exaggerated show of doing up her belt before she sat down. Kurin adopted her now familiar position draped across Ash's lap. That wasn't helping matters in the slightest.

"I need a fucking drink," Ash murmured as Aggra stood to an enthusiastic applause.

"My friends!" Aggra commenced as the noise died slightly. "You've all seen the power wielded by Clan Aggra. The beast that towers above us. Our enemy, now our greatest weapon. However all of this is useless without your support."

"We beat the damned Reapers. How the hell is one going to help us?" someone called out.

"The Shepard defeated the Reapers, and in case you didn't hear, she's fucking dead," Aggra replied in a booming voice. "You either stand with us, or we mow you down like the rest of the cannon fodder out there."

As Aggra continued, Ash kept one eye on the crowd. Mercs lived for a fight, and those gathered on Gurkan were no different. Despite some lingering scepticism they were desperate for someone to lead them out of the cesspit of the Terminus Systems. They wanted dues that they felt they were owed. Ash didn't even want to think about the ramifications of a merc fleet running around the Galaxy with a Reaper at the forefront.

When the last round of cheers faded, Ash had long since realised that the Council had a serious problem in the form of one ambitious Krogan and one fucking intact Reaper.

By now Aggra was on his feet, buoyed by the support of the crowd. "Too long have we been exiled to the outskirts. It is time to take our place, to make the rest of the Galaxy take note of the outsiders and the others. Only when we are standing on their bloody corpses will they realise their mistake in ignoring us."

As the crowd rose, Ash also found herself on her feet, fist in the air. Shouts she didn't even recognise came from her throat. Amongst the thoughts jostling for position in her head, she wondered whether Miranda would even recognise her. She didn't recognise herself.

Following Aggra's speech, the mood changed again when the alcohol started flowing. Ash found herself with a much needed drink in her hand, but she sipped it sparingly, knowing that she needed a clear head for what was to come.

"He has the support of practically everyone here," Ash said to Kurin. The extent to which she relied on the asari was unnerving. "What would this mean? If these assholes were to strike as a Fleet?"

"If the Reaper isn't as active as they claim it to be, trouble," Kurin replied. "On the other hand, if it is…catastrophe."

Almost as if to punctuate Kurin's words, the walls around them suddenly started to reverberate. Shouts of alarm went up from amongst some of the mercs, although the crazier ones laughed instead. Ash glanced skywards. The Reaper filled the entire view from the domed roof. It was arched in attack mode, much as it had been in the brief vid clip Ash had viewed. Pincers spread wide. Red light sparked at its core, gathering there before arcing out across the field of view above them, slicing through vacuum. It was blindingly bright. Ash had to avert her eyes. Even then, all she could see for a few moments was red.

"Catastrophe then," she said in a flat voice.

Ash was so enraptured with the light show above, that she did not hear Mrath trying to get her attention. It wasn't until Kurin hissed in a low, throaty sound, that Ash realised the Krogan was directing his words towards her.

"Calisto my friend, how much for your pet?" Mrath demanded.

"What pet?" Ash asked.

Mrath laughed throatily. "Just how many luscious blue whores do you have draped over yourself at this point in time?"

His words eventually registered. It dawned on Ash that Mrath was asking how much she wanted for Kurin, after all, the asari was supposedly a commodity. "Fuck" Ash whispered succinctly.

Seemingly unresponsive or blithely unconcerned, Kurin nibbled on Ash's earlobe. Such attentions would have usually earned some form of arousal, but she felt nothing other than a cold dread in the pit of her stomach. With a sickening certainty, Ash knew she'd fucked up already. The Corsairs were supposed to be mere background fodder, just another band of thugs drawn by the promise of power. Instead she'd managed to elevate herself to a level of spectacle that she hadn't anticipated. Or perhaps the blame for everything could be placed squarely on Kurin and her lithe figure.

"A round two hundred and fifty thousand," Mrath offered. The price of a life.

"Sell me," Kurin hissed in Ash's ear. The asari had been listening intently all along, weighing her own options and deciding that sacrifice was better than the alternative. Any protest Ash was about to offer was cut short as Kurin clamped her teeth down hard on the tender flesh of her earlobe. "You need to submit. Give me to him to show your support."

"Like fuck I will," Ash replied hotly. Kurin maintained the pretext of the dutiful slave with no voice in her own fate. However her entire body had gone rigid in Ashley's arms. "That's not an option."

Ever so slowly, Kurin moved, bringing her gaze up to meet Ashley's. Although there was no trace of fear in her eyes, Ash still wasn't prepared to take her advice. When Kurin began kissing her, it was more of a battle than a caress. Her teeth nipped and tugged painfully at Ash's lips. Ash tasted a metallic tang in her mouth as Kurin drew blood. All around them, the once boisterous mercs had almost fallen into utter silence. Behind them both, Mrath let out of mocking guffaw that filled the lull completely.

"You want one last night with your pet, then have it. Fuck her, leave your scent upon her, but I will have an answer now. Do we have a deal, Calisto?" he demanded.

Ash knew that the entire crew had gone into the mission prepared to die to see it done. Suicide was not the intention, only duty. Yet Ash was beginning to understand the one vital aspect of command that she had yet to experience – deliberately sending her crew to die. She had thought that when the time came, that she would be able to detach herself from her personal feelings and make the order. Otherwise what business did she have being in command? Handing Kurin over to Mrath would even be beneficial. She met the asari commando's gaze. Noted the determination and the urgency that resided there.

"You know what this means," Ash whispered, licking the blood from her lips.

"Yes," Kurin replied.

In that moment Ash wished that she were sending Kurin to her death. It would almost have been easier.

"You can do this, Calisto," Kurin added, reminding Ashley of who she was. Where she was. "You have to sell me."

It was barely perceptible, but Ash caught the slight catch in the young commando's voice. Kurin's training failed her for a split second, long enough for a glimpse of terror to show through. Something descended over Ash's entire body, replacing the dread and mounting panic. A kind of cool, logical anger that gave her clarity. She made light work of bodily shoving Kurin from her lap as she stood. Ignoring the asari's fall, Ash kept her eyes fixed squarely on Mrath. The Krogan had a predatory grin on his face as she approached. However it faded when he realised that Ash was not coming to him as a supplicant, but as a rival. With the entire room looking on, Ash lunged forward and spat in his face. A gob of spittle landed directly in his eye. Mrath didn't respond, but one of his Batarian sycophants leapt to his feet. His shout of outrage was abruptly cut short as Ash's gloved fist slammed into his face, catching him off guard. The strike was barely enough to knock him off balance. The second however, smashing down hard, sent him sprawling to the floor. A further kick to the head rendered him completely senseless. Ash's entire body thrummed as she stepped over the limp body. Mrath regarded her calmly, a spark of amusement in his expression. Or at least Ash hoped it was amusement.

"Not sure I like your bargaining tactics human," he growled.

Those around him were agitating, fingers twitching towards guns, knives or anything else close to hand. At her back, Ash knew her own crew would be doing the same. It was a volatile powder keg. About to go up in flames.

"I don't give a fuck what you like, you son of a bitch." Don't push him too hard, Ash reminded herself. "You want to buy my favourite slave? Well she's not for sale-" Mrath started forward in anger. Shouts went up. Demands for her blood…and worse. "You want her? Then fight for her if you've got a quad. Knives, fists, I don't give a fuck. Victor gets her, no creds required."

At first Ash thought he wasn't going to buy it. Mrath remained stony-faced, leaning forward. Just one arm's length away from reaching out and snapping her neck.

"Don't tell me you're pyjak-shit. Scared to take on a human female?" Ash pushed him a little harder.

Mrath suddenly threw back his head and guffawed heartily. He slapped both his palms against his armoured thighs enthusiastically. "You've got a deal! There won't be much sport in it, but I love getting something expensive for free! I like you, Calisto. You've got a fucking quad. Since I like you so much I'm going to give you one last night with your pet. Make the most of it. This time tomorrow I'll be showing her what it's like to be properly fucked and you'll be dead…or close to it."

Ash forced a broad smile onto her face. She felt her facial muscles strain with the effort. Her eyes bulged. She knew she looked the part – batshit crazy. You are crazy, Williams. Crazy and utterly fucked. She turned her back on Mrath. During the walk back to Kurin and her crew, she was subjected to a riotous clamour of vulgar shouts. Most were needlessly explaining what Mrath would do to her asari when he won. It was easy to block them out. The blood pounding between her ears rendered all other sounds distant.

Kurin stood to meet her. Outwardly demure and dutiful as she wrapped her arms around Ashley's neck and kissed her. The gesture was completely at odds with the fierce anger in her eyes.

"What the hell have you done?" the commando whispered.

Ash knew exactly what Kurin was thinking. She'd thrown both of them onto the pyre. She was going to die and Kurin would end up as Mrath's slave regardless. With the commando still protesting with everything except her voice, Ash grabbed her upper arm and began dragging her out of the gathering space. The rest of the crew followed, all wearing stunned expressions. Behind them the shouts continued, but Mrath's voice could clearly be heard above everything.

"My boy's will be watching you, Calisto. You'd better still be on this rock in eight hours."

Once outside in the wide expanse of the dome itself, Ash drew in a lungful of stale, sweaty air. She wished, just for a moment, that she was back on Sirona. Her childhood home. The air there was always crisp and clean. A sharp crack across her face drove her straight back into her dirty reality. Kurin was beyond furious.

"You've condemned us both you Goddess-damned fool!"

"Whatever happens tomorrow, I've brought us some time," Ashley explained, already moving. She knew Mrath would be true to his word. The docking clamps on the Whirling Whore would be locked down tight, ensuring no escape.

"Time for what?" Kurin demanded. The asari was trying to keep her voice down but her anger made it difficult. There was a shrill edge to her usually gruff voice.

"For fuck's sake, not here," Ash said coldly. It would look even worse to have her slave publicly berating her. She held onto her anger. She needed it to keep from descending into absolute panic.


The whole mission was turning into somewhat of an anti-climax for Sam. She'd already done her part. Although it had been exciting to say the least. The sheer blood pounding thrill had reminded her of university challenges. An intrepid team of intellectuals banding together to take on rivals. Of course the stakes at university had merely been the humiliation of defeat as opposed to the brutal finality of death. Then there was the problem of half a ton of virile Krogan lusting after her, but Sam had to admit she was slightly flattered by Sarl's attentions. It was also easily solved by not leaving the Whirling Whore. Sarl hadn't been dissuaded. He'd sent her several gifts – including a badly written, but extremely sweet, attempt at poetry. When she wasn't chuckling over the latest gift, Sam spent her time monitoring the comms coming in and out of Gurkan. She bounced lightly from channel to channel, careful not to linger overly long in case she was detected.

Most of the traffic was mundane. However a few channels were so heavily encrypted that Sam had yet to break all of them. Those she had cracked were the private comms of various merc groups. For the most part they seemed to be in complete cahoots with Aggra. Only one signal had caused Sam actual concern. Although it was almost unrecognisable, Sam would have bet a year's wages that it was Alliance in origin.

She was still battling with a particularly devilish encryption key when Ashely and the rest of the team returned to the Whirling Whore. The bootfalls on the deck were particularly urgent. Sam opened her mouth to inform Ashley about the Alliance signal, but she was cut short by the furious interaction between her Captain and Kurin.

"You cannot possibly be hinging the success of the entire mission on her?" Kurin spoke as though Sam wasn't in the room. "She's a tech rat, not even combat trained."

"I've been training her," Ashley replied. "Traynor can handle herself…and she's the only one in any position to gain access quickly."

"Gain access?" Sam piped up. It didn't sound good. She was almost afraid to ask the next part. "Where?"

"The Reaper," Ashley replied brusquely. The Captain was still facing Kurin. "Look me in the eye and tell me this isn't the only option."

"It is the only option!" Kurin yelled. "It's the only option because you're a sentimental idiot incapable of making the hard calls. You know you should have sold me to Mrath. If you'd done that, then everything would be progressing as planned."

Ashley's sigh was audible. "I couldn't do that to you."

"You should have," Kurin said coldly. "Without a moment's hesitation. Who's to say that I wouldn't have been able to escape eventually? Do you even know what it takes to be a commando, Williams? What they train us for?"

"No, but I know you, Tasha." Ashley's voice was more controlled. "And you're not as hard as you make yourself out to be. You would have been broken."

Kurin's hand darted out. There were no biotics behind the slap, just raw physical anger. Ashley stumbled backwards, almost knocking Sam off her feet. Kurin stormed from the room without a further word.

Sam was left holding Ashley. She expected the Captain to pull away, instead she sagged to the point where Sam had to support most of her weight.

"Captain Williams, I mean Calisto?" Sam corrected herself. "Are you okay?"

"No, please call me Ashley, just for now," the other woman said in a quiet voice.

The silence lingered for a moment longer. When Ashley didn't move, Sam tightened her hold. The resulting embrace was awkward. Sam had to press her cheek up against a ceramic shoulder plate. It was hard and uncomfortable. Her muscles were also starting to cramp with the effort of holding herself in the position. Ashley finally straightened. When she turned to face Sam, her features had settled once again behind a mask a calm. Sam drew strength from this.

"What do you need me to do, Ashley?" Sam asked. In that moment she was willing to do absolutely anything that was asked of her.

For both their sake's, Sam ignored the tear tracks on the Captain's face.


Omega, Sahrabarik

"You know you cannot do anything more for Ashley."

Shepard dragged her eyes away from the screens in front of her, but she did not immediately look at Liara. She'd spent so long staring at the feeds that she needed to refocus. The floor tiles eventually stopped swirling like a galaxy map but still she couldn't look up. Soft footsteps followed. Liara's bare feet came into view. She'd obviously come from their bed. It meant that Shepard had been standing in an ineffective state of anxiety for longer than she had thought. Normandy, Pserimos, and Whirling Whore had entered into radio silence hours earlier. No news was expected. Possibly for days. Shepard had yet to accept that there was nothing she could do. Standing, with Liara's network at her fingertips, she at least had the power to do something if it was needed. She doubted whether her mind could quiet enough for sleep. However when Liara stepped forward and embraced her, Shepard felt her body sag with exhaustion. She instinctively burrowed into the crook of Liara's neck. Bed warmth lingered on her bondmate's skin. She inhaled deeply, using Liara's scent to invigorate her dull senses.

"I've got a really bad feeling about this whole thing, Li," Shepard admitted in a soft voice. Her lips brushed against Liara's familiar gorgeously textured skin as she spoke. Despite everything she couldn't resist depositing several soft kisses.

"There's nothing you can do, Evan," Liara urged. "Come to bed."

Shepard's arms tightened around Liara. Holding her bondmate was the most tangible thing she could do. Plus it felt good. She hoped that the physical contact would take away some of the dread lingering in the pit of her stomach.

"I just thought, as long as I'm standing here…" Shepard began. Anything she said was redundant. She had to accept the fact that she wasn't on that rock with Ashley.

Her resistance crumbled. Liara felt it and gently cajoled her in the direction of their bed. All Shepard had to do was walk in a shuffling gait, then obediently raise and lower her arms as Liara divested her of clothing.

"Will I be able to live with myself if something happens to her? To the crew?" She'd asked the same question at least once a day. The answer she gave herself changed each time, but mostly she was left wondering.

"Yes, because you will continue to live regardless," Liara said, not unkindly. She propelled Shepard toward the bed.

"If something did happen, I'd lose Miranda as well. She would never forgive me," Shepard said as the covers were piled atop her cold body. Liara tucked them up around her head, tenderly covering her ears in the way she liked.

Liara placed a kiss on her forehead. "You need to stop, Evan. We have played our part. If the worst does happen, then we will deal with it. In the meantime, as far as we know, everything is progressing according to plan."

Shepard lay with her eyes closed, listening as Liara padded around the room. A few moments later, Shepard felt her weight on the bed beside her. Liara then embraced her from behind, drawing their bodies close together.

"Go to sleep," Liara ordered in a tone of finality.

The room descended into silence. Less than a minute later, Shepard heard the soft sound of Liara's delicate snores. Her bondmate was exhausted. She knew she ought to feel the same, but sleep wouldn't take her. The tangled knot in her stomach kept her awake deep into the night.