Chapter Thirty-two
The Fan and the Excrement

Omega, Sahrabarik

Shepard was the first to admit that she was crap at meditating. It wasn't because she lacked patience, it was boring as fuck. Not to mention entirely pointless. She found her own stillness in other places, by other means. The physicality of exercise for one. Sweat, pounding heartbeats, and exhaustion. When Samara told her to clear her mind in an annoyingly calm voice, she raged internally against the futility of emptying her head. Trying not to think only led to more thoughts. Too many thoughts tumbling in over one another. Plus sitting cross-legged on the floor was making her knees hurt.

The only reason that she remained sitting, bored and with a numb arse, was the need to set a good example for Mycea. The young asari sat nearby. Not quite close enough to touch, but close enough for Shepard to feel the impatience radiating off her body. Shepard's eyes were closed, but she could hear Myke's foot tapping out an urgent rhythm on the floor. A curt grunt from Samara caused the sound to end abruptly and the room descended into silence once more. Samara spoke intermittently, but Shepard found it difficult to concentrate on her words.

Instead she listened to the sound of her own breathing. She soon settled into a perfect rhythm, perhaps even finding the elusive clarity that Samara spoke of. Drifting in a contented haze…

It was quiet, empty. Shepard found herself standing at Ash's side. There was nothing unusual about this. It was always the way it had been. It simply felt right to be standing next to Ash. Her friend turned and gave her a rueful look that caused Shepard to frown.

"Are things that bad, Williams?"

"I don't know, Skipper," Ash replied, turning away. Her gaze grew distant. "You tell me."

Both the quietness and the emptiness were abruptly shattered at the same time. It was a jarring transition, but the resulting chaos was so familiar that Shepard's pulse barely kicked up a notch. She recognised the music straight away. War. The staccato rhythm of bullets, punctuated by the chorus of the dying. Heavy, thudding explosions acting as the bass. Someone was playing Shepard's song. Instinctively, she reached for her rifle. Her fingers grasped at nothing but air.

"You're not dressed for the part," Ash pointed out in flat voice.

Shepard glanced down at herself. Instead of armour she was wearing her familiar cargos and a worn hoodie. Conversely Ash was dressed for battle. Full combat armour. Valkyrie rifle tucked into the crook of her shoulder in preparation for firing. Her expression clearly showed disappointment, as though Shepard was letting down the Marine Corps. Shepard turned away. She looked towards the battlefield which was now below them. Although she couldn't see an enemy, her experienced eye picked out the fields of fire and the clear routes of assault.

"I need to go, Skipper." Ash started moving down the slope. There was no one else with her.

"Where's the rest of your unit?" Shepard glanced around in alarm.

Ash looked over her shoulder briefly, a sad smile on her face. "I need to do this alone." Her legs began moving faster as she picked her pace. Barrelling down the slope, directly towards a clear kill zone.

"Like hell you are!" Shepard replied fiercely.

She too was running, scrambling after Ash. Although her combat boots should have kept a decent hold, she found herself slipping and sliding in the suddenly muddy surface. Despite strenuous effort, she couldn't stay on her feet. She spent more time picking herself up or sliding uncontrolled in a direction she didn't want to go. Unable to keep up with Ashley, Shepard was forced to watch her friend charging forward, growing increasingly distant. All the while she tried to yell out warnings, but her voice was swallowed in the chaos. She couldn't understand why Ash was unable to see the same dangers that were so clearly laid out in front of her. A frontal assault was nothing short of suicide. Not to mention the fact that the bombardment was growing in intensity with every passing moment.

Her hands and arms caked in mud, Shepard was reduced to scrambling forward on her hands and knees. Her frustration mounted to the point where she was almost sobbing. Heavy artillery was throwing up showers of debris, almost completely obscuring her view of Ash. Desperation drove her to make one final effort to get back on her feet. She made it just in time to see Ash's body flying through the air in a tangle of limbs. The scream that tore from her throat emerged as little more than a weak cry.

"Ash!" Shepard's entire body jerked, snapping her back into wakefulness.

She opened her eyes to find both Samara and Myke staring at her. The former wore an expression of intense disapproval, while Myke was openly smirking. Not only had her sharp cry obviously been audible, Shepard could feel a thin trickle of drool at the corner of her mouth. She swiped it away in a deliberate motion.

"I think that will conclude our instruction," Samara intoned. "For today day at least."

"Great!" Myke said with slightly too much enthusiasm. It was made even worse as she slapped her palms against her thighs and stood hurriedly. All of this was accomplished while Shepard was still wiping the drool from her chin. "Are you going to sit there all day, Evan? I'm starving."

Shepard shared a look with Samara. Where she had previously seen disapproval, there was now a visible element of concern. As she stood, she responded to Samara with a slight shake of her head. Processing her feelings was the last thing she wanted. She didn't need anyone else to tell her that she'd let Ash down. What she needed was to do something that didn't involve an overabundance of time to think.

Very little time elapsed between Myke uttering half-hearted thanks and making a beeline for the door. Shepard lingered in Samara's spartan living space out of courtesy, making a few quiet murmurs of apology for the behaviour of her young friend. Samara appeared unconcerned that the first lesson had been so obviously unproductive, promising that the lessons would continue.

"Well that was undeniably shit," Myke announced as they walked together. "I thought it was going to be about busting heads. If I wanted to spend hours with my eyes closed, I'd do it horizontally, in bed."

"Samara is over 900 years old, Myke," Shepard reminded her. "Trust me when I say that she knows a thing or two. Besides, don't you think you could do with a little time to relax? Calm down? I found it interesting."

"Listen to you. Interesting? Ha! You were asleep and drooling in five minutes," Myke chortled. "Now that's the real lesson. Can you teach me how to sleep sitting up? Or better yet, can't we just ditch the justicar? You know all about fighting without biotics and you'd be a hell of a lot more fun than Samara."

Shepard sighed. She didn't have to look at Myke to imagine the earnest, hopeful expression on her face. Clearly Samara would seem like a killjoy to a young asari who had never known discipline. However, Samara had also never stopped training. Never stopped striving to be perfect in everything she did. Shepard had driven herself to the brink of physical breakdown even before she had spent over half a year in stasis and a further month being tortured by the Alliance. Although her strength returned at an unprecedented rate, the subsequent months on Omega simply hadn't given her enough time to restore her body to peak condition.

It was one of the reasons why she couldn't help Ash. Nor did Shepard want to disappoint Myke by having her find out that her hero was something less than expected. Sure she had taken on a few of Aria's lowlife mercs, but even that encounter had wiped her out. She stopped walking and turned to face Myke.

The young asari sensed what was coming and rolled her eyes. "You're turning me down."

"Hey. You're better off with Samara," Shepard reiterated gently. It wasn't enough to wipe the petulant expression from Myke's face. "When I was starting out as a boot marine, I thought my drill instructor was a sadistic bitch who hated my guts. I would've quit but I knew that's exactly what my mother was waiting for. I stuck to my training. It turned out that the instructor was pushing me because she knew I'd be a hell of a marine if I sorted my shit out." Shepard clearly remembered herself as the lost young woman who had gone into boot camp for the sole reason of defying her mother. She'd emerged as a marine and hadn't looked back. "Look, I'm not saying that you're in the same place that I was back then, but give Samara a chance. You don't have to become best friends, but she might grow on you."

"I suppose you're making some sense," Myke admitted grudgingly. "About the giving her a chance part. I'm sure as hell not becoming her friend. Not so long as she continues with all that code bullshit. The code dictates that you are not allowed to have any fun whatsoever," she continued, mimicking Samara's tone. "No alcohol, fried food or fornicating with strippers."

Shepard gave her friend a sharp look. The young asari was incorrigible. "If you don't stop mocking her like that, I can't be responsible for what happens to you," she warned Myke. Still, she couldn't keep a small smile from creeping onto her face. She studied Myke as they resumed walking. The asari was still grinning, obviously unconcerned by Shepard's warning. "Hey, can I ask you something? I meant to talk to you about it earlier…and it might be a little personal, so feel free to tell me to piss off. Afterlife…the other week. I presume what Samara said was true? Would you really have…with a dancer?"

Myke's grin faded and she shrugged sullenly. "I dunno. Probably yeah. I mean, she was hot. Why? Are you trying to judge me?"

"No, not in the slightest," Shepard reassured her. "This is just me doing what a friend is supposed to do...and obviously doing it very badly. I mean…don't you want to save you first time for someone…who means something to you?"

This time it was Myke who stopped walking. "That was always the plan, but I'm 96. It's beyond ridiculous. Other asari think I'm pathetic. Unless they're on her payroll, they don't look twice at me. Shit-" Myke slapped herself on the forehead "-T'Loak was probably paying that dancer a fucking fortune. Be honest with me, Evan, do you think I'm pathetic?"

"Nope," Shepard replied quickly. Myke was many things, but pathetic had never been one of them. "You are most certainly not pathetic. You're a…little naïve perhaps-" Myke's face fell slightly "-but you're also hilarious, a loyal friend…and really quite striking."

Myke brightened, and then frowned. "Striking as in pretty? Really?"

Shepard grinned. "Don't let it go to your head, Kasos, but yeah."

The resulting smug smile on Myke's face made everything worthwhile. The momentary embarrassment of asking the initial question, even the morning spent meditating. They walked in companionable silence. Given Samara's purpose in coming to Omega. It made sense for her to live nearby. It was too close for Myke's liking, but it gave Shepard peace of mind to know the justicar was close at hand. She was looking forward to spending the rest of the day with Liara. Her bondmate would no doubt be shut away in her lair, but Shepard had ways and means of enticing her away from work.

"Hey, you got anything to eat at your place?" Myke asked, interrupting Shepard's pleasant train of thought.

"Don't you have any food of your own?" Shepard replied.

"Nope."

"You do get paid you know," Shepard reminded her. She sighed as Myke followed her to her apartment. Her plans would have to be put on hold.

"I'd rather eat your food," Myke admitted.

"Well, at least you're honest," Shepard said as they entered. It was warm inside and she stripped off her hoodie. Myke was already crossing the room towards the fridge. "There should be some leftovers in there. Help yourself. I'm going to see if I can pry Liara away from her work."

Sure enough, Liara was working. Shepard briefly thought that she would probably die of shock the day she walked in and found her bondmate not working. She took up her customary position, leaning against the doorframe. Contentedly watching Liara work for several moments.

"You know, one day I'll walk in here and you'll be using one of your feeds to stream porn," Shepard said softly.

The speed with which Liara turned and the accompanying horrified expression on her face caused Shepard to laugh aloud.

"That's not remotely funny," Liara chastised her without a trace of humour.

Not to be dissuaded by the fact that Liara was unimpressed by her joke, Shepard moved in for a hug. Liara was unresponsive at first, still protesting. However she soon melted as Shepard started to trail kisses up her exposed skin, culminating in a breathless sigh as Shepard nuzzled the sensitive folds at the nape of her neck.

"Hey, Evan?" a loud voice from downstairs interrupted the moment. "You got anything to drink?"

Liara let out an indulgent sigh. She twisted her head. Her lips brushed against Shepard's cheek as she spoke, "You invited Mycea over."

"To be fair, she invited herself," Shepard pointed out. "And you need to take a break."

"I would be more than happy to take a break…but with you!" Liara protested as she twisted out of Shepard's embrace. She leaned back against her console and folded her arms. "However, you seemed to be joined at the hip with your much shorter, definitely bluer, twin." Liara paused, pursed her lips thoughtfully. "You are trying to keep your mind occupied, away from thoughts about Ashley."

"I'm always thinking about Ash, but I'd rather not talk about it," Shepard insisted. "Or at least I don't need to talk about it. I can't actually do anything for her…not now."

Liara lowered her gaze. "I am sorry. I could be doing more to support you. Let me just finish one last piece of work, then I will join you for lunch."

"I'm sorry Myke's here-"

"You do not need to be," Liara interrupted as she turned her attention back to her work. She continued talking as she resumed working, "She is…oddly charming. Contrary to what she thinks, I enjoy spending time with her…in small doses of course."

"I think she is still under the impression that you hate her," Shepard pointed out. Myke did profess to like Liara, but she was always slightly guarded in her presence. A thought suddenly crossed her mind. "You know, it might be a good idea for you to spend more time with her. I think she needs the company of other asari…or at least those that aren't strippers…or mercs. Plus she's not exactly sold on Samara."

Liara paused. "I do not have anything in common with Mycea…other than our mutual infatuation with you."

Shepard snorted. "Myke's not infatuated with me!"

"I do not mean romantically. Hero worship. Call it what you will. She is devoted to you," Liara attempted to explain.

"Well, great. You can both spend lunch telling me how amazing I am," Shepard said as she gently wrapped her arm around Liara's waist and attempted to drag her away from the console.

Liara dug her heels in for a few moments, but it lasted only so long as Shepard's next attempt to kiss her. She responded, eagerly now that she had resigned herself to the fact that she was being dragged away from her work. She twisted again in Shepard's arms, this time towards her. Shepard didn't require a second invitation to press their lips together. Another soft sigh escaped Liara's lips. A loud crash reverberated out from downstairs. Reluctantly Shepard put a little space between them and offered an apologetic smile.

"We keep doing this and we are not going to make it to the kitchen," Liara murmured. "Or what is left of our kitchen."

"I'm stopping on the condition that we can pick things up later," Shepard replied, contentedly stroking Liara's cheek with the pad of her thumb. "Exactly where we left off."

Both Shepard and Liara had left the room when a small message popped up on one of the feeds. It was clearly important as it was directly in front of Liara's usual position. Had the Shadow Broker opened and decrypted the message, she would have found the contents terse and blunt.

{Original plan fucked. Have new one. It's a bit shit. Will advise success in due course. If you don't hear anything in twenty-four hours, I've failed. A}


Gurkan, Terminus Systems

Of all the nights to get a crap night's sleep, this was by far one of the worst. As she scrubbed at her tired eyes, Ashley Williams felt utterly drained. Keeping up the charade of Calisto Callahan, even for just a few days, was taxing beyond belief. There had never been any doubt that the assignment would push her to the limit, but she hadn't anticipated the extent to which the persona would transform her. Calisto Callahan had compromised almost everything she believed in, and threatened the best thing in her life. Still, Ash refused to blame anyone other than herself for the way events had unfolded. It was her failure to anticipate everything that had created the current mess. Her fiery response to Mrath's offer. Or even drawing attention to herself in the first place. Not to mention what had passed between her and Kurin. The damn kiss. Ash still wasn't able to explain what the hell had possessed her in that alcove. Her sleep had been troubled, plagued by guilt and self-doubt over an incident that was insignificant compared to the mission at hand.

Ash forced her thoughts back to the present. She turned her attention to the small, non-descript case resting on her desk, flipped it open. Inside rested two ampules filled with a colourless liquid and a hypospray. Her attention lingered for a moment, before she fixed what she hoped was a neutral, relaxed expression as she brought up a familiar face via secure channel.

Karin Chakwas wasn't fooled for a moment. Normandy's doctor shook her head in obvious disapproval. "You look like utter shit, Williams."

An almost hysterical laugh erupted from Ash's throat. "Thanks, doc. Good to know."

On screen, Chakwas folded her arms across her chest as though she was about to deliver a severe scolding. "Although it is good to see you in one piece at least. I know you won't have much time, what can I do to help?"

Some of Ash's fatigue had lessened as a result of Chakwas' familiar voice and no-nonsense approach. "I'm going to make use of the concoction you gave me."

Chakwas raised her eyebrows. "The one I gave you under strict instructions to use as a last resort?"

"That one." Ash nodded. "I need your professional opinion on taking a double dose."

"Absolutely not," Chakwas replied without hesitation. "There's a good reason that drug is illegal in most civilised territories. The side effects alone are enough to make me regret having given it to you in the first place."

Ashley had long since realised that Chakwas didn't give a damn about who was at the helm of a ship. In medical matters, her word was final. "So it might kill me?" Almost absently, she stroked one of the ampules in the case.

"I should think that ample enough reason to deter you, Captain," Chakwas continued. "But if it is not, then you can be assured that I will escalate matters further. Since I would lose my licence reporting you via official channels, I would simply inform Miranda Lawson." Chakwas sighed. "Williams, at least fill me in on your plans, I might be able to provide you with alternatives."

"There isn't time, doc," Ash replied wearily. At the back of her mind she didn't care whether Miranda found out or not. All she wanted was to be alive to experience the resulting scolding. "Events haven't exactly gone as planned. I'm improvising." Ash wasn't one to give voice to her fears in front of her medical officer, but recent events had thrown the rule book out of the window. As she continued to toy with the ampule, she knew that she was about to blur the lines even further. "I need you to do something else for me…as a friend," Ash said slowly. She was reluctant to give voice to the request. Once it emerged from her lips, there was no taking it back. "Amongst my personal possessions in the Nest, there's a ring, in a drawstring bag by the bed. If I don't come back-"

"Williams," Chakwas interrupted, not unkindly. "You don't need to say anything further. In the unlikely event that anything happens, I will deliver it to Second Lieutenant Lawson myself."

Ash didn't reply immediately. She was immensely grateful to Chakwas for sparing her the agony of having to explain further. Her hand trembled as she dragged it through her limp, purple hair in an effort to appear untroubled. Forcing a smile onto her lips was beyond her. "Thanks, doc. I'll seen you soon."

"I'll hold you to that, Captain. Good luck."

The connection disengaged. Ash knew that it was going to take more than luck to see her plan through. It was going to take a miracle. She wasn't sure she had enough clout to request one of those. Instead she stared at the ampules in the neat case. Any decision she was about to make was interrupted by the arrival of Traynor. Unlike Ash's haggard appearance, the Chief wore the same determined expression she'd clung to throughout the entire mission regardless of what was thrown at her. It slipped slightly as her mouth opened in a small 'o' of surprise. Ash belatedly remembered that she was still in her underwear. To her credit, Traynor regained her composure quickly, with just a hint of colour remaining in her cheeks.

"Have you seen Commander Kurin this morning?" Ash had left the conversation with the commando in a bad place the previous evening.

"Sort of," Sam replied hesitantly. "If hearing her, and then hiding fits under your definition of 'seeing.' I would hazard a guess and say that she still doesn't agree with your decision."

"She doesn't, but the decision was never up to her," Ash said. Kurin had tried. Almost desperately. All the while the sexual tension between the two of them had continued to simmer beneath the surface, threatening to derail everything. "Chief, I know it's entirely irrelevant…but do you agree with my decision?"

Sam Traynor, with her cheeks still red and a weight on her shoulders that she should never have had to carry, responded almost immediately, "You're the Captain, ma'am."

"Please, Sam, humour me."

"I won't," Sam replied stubbornly. "In order for this to work, every one of us has to believe in you. There's no room for doubt. If we start allowing it to creep in, then none of us are going to get home. I'm with you Captain Williams. One hundred percent."

A wry smile creased Ashley's face. "When did you get to be so wise, Chief?"

Sam risked a conspiratorial grin. "I learned from the best, ma'am."

With a decisive movement, Ash retrieved the hypospray and both of the ampules from their case. She loaded the first. Unmindful of the fact that she was in the presence of a crewmember, Ash yanked her underwear aside and pressed the device against the meat of her buttock. She felt nothing as she depressed it.

"I'm glad you're with me," Ash said as she ejected the empty ampule and loaded the second. "Because I've changed the plan slightly to give you more time to work." The second ampule soon went the way of the first. Ash still didn't feel a thing, except perhaps a curious light-headedness.

"Does the plan involve drugging yourself?" Sam asked hesitantly.

Ash threw the empty hypospray down and straightened, trying to sense if anything was wrong. Her left ass cheek was going numb, but only slightly. "I suppose you could say that. The doc mixed this up before we left Normandy. Nothing serious. It just breaks down alcohol in your bloodstream almost instantly…to a point. Mrath and I are going to have a drink before we fight. If he's as Krogan as all the others I've met, then it shouldn't be too hard to convince him."

The resulting expression on Sam's face was one of pure scepticism. "You're going to try to outdrink a Krogan?"

Ash laughed, but didn't reply. She moved towards her clothes and started to get dressed. Her ass cheek was already starting to wake up, sending thousands of sharp needles arching down her thigh. "Hand me my pants would you?"

Sam was still struggling to process everything that had happened since walking into the Captain's quarters less than ten minutes earlier. She'd slept badly of course – tossing and turning as her mind worked. What little sleep she had managed to snatch had been plagued by nightmares. They would have been bearable had they been about the mission. Instead Sam had seen her parents die, in dozens of ways. The only common thread had been her own powerlessness to stop it happening.

She'd pulled herself together upon waking, at least until the point where she'd walked in to find Ashley clad in just her underwear. That hadn't been ideal. It was only when Ash was fully dressed that the heat from her cheeks finally disappeared. She then stared stupidly as Ash tried to hand her something. It took Sam several moments to realise that she was staring at the butt of a pistol.

"You're supposed to say 'thank you, ma'am' and holster it," Ash prodded her into action.

"What?" Sam blinked. She noticed the hard edge and complete lack of mirth in Ashley's eyes. "Oh! Pistol, right."

"Thank you, ma'am." Sam wrapped her hand around the pistol.

As she did tiny servo motors whirred into life. A narrow barrel extended. Despite its purpose, it felt snug and secure in her grasp. She then secured the pistol in place against her thigh, the clasps seemingly eager to secure the weapon in place.

"Suppressor pistol," Ash explained. "Lighter and easier to handle than a Carnifex but packs a similar punch – especially if you get a headshot."

Sam nodded mutely. The supposedly light pistol suddenly felt heavy, as though it was weighing her down.

"Do you have everything you need?" Ash continued.

Again, Sam nodded. She fumbled for words. "Petrova…she gave me a tutorial before I hit my rack last night, and again over breakfast. According to her I should be able to set charges in my sleep. I'm not so sure, but I'll-"

"Sam." Ashley clamped a hand on her shoulder as she spoke. This time, the extra weight was reassuring. "You're going to be on your own in every sense. I'll have some of the girls stationed near your location but they won't be able to help if things go tits up. And we'll all be radio silent."

"You make things sound so simple." Sam forced a laugh.

"You're smart, Sam…and resourceful. Trust your instincts."


Trust my instincts, Sam though to herself an hour later. She almost laughed. Every instinct in her body was screaming at her to run, to get the hell off Gurkan and back to somewhere safe. Instead she was standing in the middle of hell. Alone. Sam fought against her fear. She propelled her legs into motion and tried to find some sort of swagger in the way she looked. A glimpse of herself in a nearby reflective surface revealed someone that Nick and Radha Traynor might not have recognised. The skin tight outfit did make her look almost…hot. I am hot, Sam reminded herself. Just because I haven't been laid in ages, doesn't mean I'm not one smokin' hot piece of-

Sam's internal conversation ended when she caught sight of Sarl. Even in the crowded docking bay, the young Krogan cut an impressive figure in his overly shiny armour. She didn't remember it being quite so vibrant and wondered if he'd cleaned it for her benefit. When he saw her, his resulting grin was huge. It seemed to Sam that he could probably swallow her whole and have room for dessert.

"Samantha Traynor! I should chastise your Captain for keeping you too busy to enjoy the delights of Gurkan," he said as she smiled awkwardly up at him. "As much as I admire your sense of duty, I see little point in being a mercenary if you are unable to enjoy yourself. You might as well find gainful employment."

"Who in their right mind would want a real job?" Sam replied, assuming what she hoped was a beguiling pose – one hand propped on her waist, the other stretching out to touch Sarl's massively muscled forearm. Caress, Sam, she urged herself. You can't just touch him as though you're petting a wild animal. The pads of her fingers trailed up the bare, roughly textured skin. Her hand came to rest on his bicep.

"I did not bring one bottle of Thessian Red as I promised." Sarl held up a leather bag, dwarfed in his massive fist. "I brought two. I hope you do not think me presumptuous? Did you have a nice spot in mind?"

A nice spot? On Gurkan? "As a matter of fact," Sam began. "There is one spot in particular that would mean a great deal to me, but I doubt whether you would be able to make it possible."

Sarl puffed out his chest. "This is Gurkan!" he replied enthusiastically. "I can make anything happen. Especially for you, Samantha."

On the outside, Sam was smiling. Inwardly she still felt sick to her stomach. She cast an obvious, longing glance towards the Reaper, visible through the force fields above them.

Sarl followed her gaze. He grunted awkwardly. "Although you do ask a lot."

"I appreciate that our…relationship is new, but I am hoping that this will be the start of something memorable." Sam had never tried to play the role of seductress. She would have fervently doubted her ability to use her looks to get anything. However, for some reason, she now slipped into the role almost as completely as Ashley had become Calisto Callahan. Her incentive couldn't have been greater. At the back of her mind ran the mantra that failure was not an option. Sam repeated this to herself as she edged closer to Sarl, pressing the length of her slender body against his bulk. There was nothing remotely sexual about the way his armour jutted sharply into her curves, but she clearly heard his sharp intake of breath and the nervous rumble of laughter that followed. Sam had to stand on her tiptoes to deposit a kiss on his leathery jawline, trying not to second guess herself as to where a Krogan liked to be kissed.

"I think that can be arranged," Sarl replied in a strangely soft voice. "As long as you promise not to tell anyone about it. Not your Captain, and especially not my father."

Yes, since I'm so likely to sit down and have a chat with the Clan Chief. "I have absolutely no intention of doing that," Sam replied honestly. She softened her voice. "You show me the heart of that Reaper, and I'll show you how it feels to make love to a human."


Glancing at the time on her omni-tool, Ash saw that she had barely ten minutes left. As she stared out of one of the Whirling Whore's viewing ports, she ran over everything in her mind. The plan that had seemed so brilliant days earlier now meant nothing. Instead she had a new one, formed out of desperation and her own insanity. A plan that relied too heavily on a young woman doing something she had never been trained for. Also luck…and the general thick-headedness of the Krogan race.

Still, one thing had become absolutely clear in her own mind – she had no intention of dying. Not for a long time, and certainly not on some godforsaken rock at the hands of a deluded mercenary. She had plans for the future. They involved Miranda and a hell of a lot of sex. Well, the immediate plans did at least. There were more mature aspirations like marriage, a house and kids, but she wanted to enjoy Miranda for herself for a few years. A decade sounded about right.

Ash heard footsteps. She didn't need to turn around to know exactly who it was. Only one person aboard the Whirling Whore wore heels that sharp. And only one person was angry enough to make that much noise. Plus Ash caught a hint of her scent. That didn't improve her mood.

"You are an obtuse fool, Williams," Kurin informed her in a cold tone.

"What have I done now?" Ash didn't bother to turn around.

"You were supposed to spend last night with Cyrene."

"Oh," Ash replied absently.

"Oh? What do you mean 'oh'? Cyrene's father was Krogan. She was raised amongst Krogan. If anyone on the crew is best placed to teach you how to kill them, it is her. Instead you sent her away saying you needed sleep? Sleep is a luxury none of us can afford!"

"I suppose this is the part where you tell me how commandos go weeks without sleep?" Ashley retorted.

"Stop mocking me." There was a wounded edge to Kurin's tone. "I don't deserve that from you."

Ash finally turned to face the commando. She could tell Kurin was tense, but asari didn't wear their fatigue in the same manner as humans. She looked alert. Ravishing. "No you don't. Just as I don't deserve you telling me how to run my op at every opportunity. And if it's any consolation, I slept badly."

"Of course it's not. I would rather you were well-rested before getting your spinal cord ripped out. Do you want me to tell you just how flimsy a human spine is?"

"I'm well-aware," Ash muttered. She belatedly realised that she was staring at Kurin. She dragged her gaze away, searching for somewhere else to look. Checking the time again was the perfect cover. "Was there some point to this visit?"

"Other than pleading for you to put a stop to this madness?" Kurin demanded. "No, there isn't." Her tone softened slightly. Some of her composure disappeared. "I just wanted you to know…you have to realise that all this is just…Listen, not only am I a maiden, I'm a commando. For me sex is a welcome distraction, it's fleeting…shit, this is coming out all wrong." She gave up with a muttered curse under her breath. "Fuck it. I don't want you to die, Williams."

As Kurin spoke Ash struggled to process everything she said, but the commando's words tumbled out too quickly. Instead she gave a small nod of acknowledgement. "Contrary to what you might think, I don't have a death wish, Kurin." She glanced at the time. "Let's get this show on the road."


Sam had no desire to see the inside of a Reaper, however she had little choice in the matter. The whole damn thing gave her the creeps. Sarl had barely let go of her hand since they entered, causing Sam to wonder if he was also unnerved by being inside the Reaper. However that was the only possible sign of unease. The Krogan had strolled past the guards at the entrance, sharing a crude joke with them that left Sam blushing from the roots of her hair.

The spaces within the Reaper were unlike those of any vessel Sam had seen. They would walk through narrow passages, only to emerge in cavernous spaces. None of it made any sense in terms of conventional ship architecture. Then again, the Reaper had no need for a crew. All the while Sam couldn't shake the fact that they were walking inside an organism. One that quite possibly knew her by name. It had immediately seemed apparent to Sam that the Reaper had been grown rather than built. Its internal structure seemed eerily like bones and skin. She did not repeat the mistake of reaching out to touch anything for fear that she would hear the voice again. Her head remained mercifully empty, at least of anything other than her own terror.

All throughout Sarl practically skipped along at her side. There were even moments when he wrapped one of his massive arms around her waist to help her over an obstacle. He was sweet and attentive. It was more than Sam could say for any of her ex-girlfriends.

"You're not here with me just to get to Mrath are you?" he asked at one point. It was the only time that there had been a hint of suspicion in his tone.

"No!" Sam couldn't reply quickly enough. "Why would you think that?"

"He's the handsome one," Sarl explained. "Not to mention all the first-born shit. Ha! First-born. Doesn't count for much when you are Krogan. Younger brothers are supposed to harbour desires to kill their siblings. It's encouraged. Anything to keep you sharp and ready for combat."

"Is that what you want?" Sam didn't particularly want to learn about fratricide in Krogan society. "To kill him?"

"Yes," Sarl growled, almost abruptly. "But he is far older than I. I'm not ready. Perhaps in another century or two."

"Do you dislike him that much?" Sam was worried that her clammy hand, trapped inside Sarl's, would give away the stark terror she felt.

"Dislike? Bah! I hate him. And with reason beyond just sibling rivalry. It escalated when I survived my Rite of Passage and Father gave me an asari."

Sam stared at Sarl, blinking several times in disbelief before managing to say anything. "He…gave you an asari?"

Sarl hummed in agreement. "Chana. She was beautiful. And for a few days at least she was mine. Then Mrath decided that he wanted her for himself. I fought him, but he won easily. He would have killed me if not for the intervention of our Father. Mrath beat Chana to death less than a month later. There was nothing I could do. Hence keeping you to myself. Far away from him."

"I am so sorry," Sam murmured. She wanted to be far away from all of them at that moment.

"So am I." Sarl turned to look at her. "But it marked a turning point for me. I discovered reading – digital texts mostly, but I have collected a small selection of actual writings. I educated myself. It turned out that such learning came easily." He then laughed almost derisively. "I keep it to myself mostly. Little good it does me out here. My Father will never permit me to attend university. There is a human one, Oxford it is called. Have you heard of it?"

"I went there!" Sam replied, completely forgetting herself. "Once. I went there once. It was…nice I suppose. Not really my thing though."

The conversation continued as they walked. Sam found it increasingly difficult to imagine doing any harm to the young Krogan. For all the stereotypes about Krogan that she had heard, he fit almost none of them. They were supposed to be violent, thuggish and tremendously stupid. While Sarl clearly had a desire to fight, he was also articulate, thoughtful and quite pleasant company. Despite his expectations of their encounter being wildly different from her own, Sam was beginning to wonder whether he might be an ally as opposed to an obstacle.

Just as her legs were beginning to tire from keeping up with Sarl's energetic strides, they emerged into a much smaller chamber. It was clearly some sort of command nexus, as Sam had requested to see 'the heart of the Reaper.' The unease she felt throughout their stroll suddenly increased. Sarl let go of her hand. Sam spun around in a slow circle in an attempt to take everything in. More so than anywhere else within the Reaper, this space reminded her that she was at the heart of something living. When she turned back to face Sarl, she found him already unpacking the contents of their picnic bag.

"So, is there a second on your ship? One who will take command when my brother kills your Captain?" he asked casually whilst laying out a rug with his large, clumsy hands.

"Huh?" Sam maintained her distance, pretending she was still looking around. "Oh!" The sound emerged as a startled squawk more than anything else.

Sarl paused and looked at her. He was either grinning or grimacing, Sam couldn't tell. "I must apologise if I have said something offensive. Your Captain is a friend?"

"No, not really," Sam replied with a shrug. "She's a hard-arsed bitch. You weren't interested in watching the fight?"

Sarl shook his head. "I've seen Mrath beat enough people to death to last a lifetime. I don't need to see another."

I don't want to ever see that. "The crew, I guess they'll fight for the Captaincy." That's what mercs are supposed to do? I think! "You know, like pirates do. Fight, because they can. Because it's fun." Sam winced.

"You won't participate?" Sarl asked. He resumed his tasks. It was almost comical the way his thick fingers worked at the stopper of one of the bottles of asari-made wine.

"I'm more of a lover than a fighter," Sam replied, hoping Sarl didn't find the statement as ridiculous as she did.

"Mmmmm," he rumbled. "I like that."

He poured two cups of wine. Sam watched the rich, ruby red liquid flow from the bottle as though it were sand reminding her that she was quickly running out of time. The fight between Mrath and Ashley was imminent. While Sarl was concentrating on pouring, she checked the pistol at her side. It was icy cold to the touch.

"Come here, Samantha." Sarl offered her a cup. "Let us drink to the start of this friendship."

Sam swallowed. Her throat was dry. "Sarl…if you're so sick of fighting, why do you support your father starting another war? He's just going to kill more people, innocent people."

"The weak die." Sarl shrugged, unconcerned. "For the glory of Clan Aggra of course. The Reaper is our route to power. We will finally be able to prove to all of those fools on Tuchanka that they are not the pinnacle of the Krogan race, and to the rest of the Galaxy that the Terminus Systems are not to be overlooked. Mrath just wants to kill and rape, my Father will need an empire builder. Me."

"Ambitious," Sam replied absently, hiding her bitter disappointment. "But why do you need an empire in the first place?"

"Don't you think we have talked enough, Samantha? We will have more time. You have been occupying my every thought from the moment I saw you. My quad aches, please allow me to worship your magnificent body?"

Sam had to turn her back on him. She was either going to laugh or cry. In all honesty, 'my quad aches' was the most sexual compliment anyone had paid her for years. She couldn't say that she was thrilled by it, possibly even slightly repulsed. None of it was enough to drive her towards a state of anger. No, you don't need to be angry, she told herself. Just clinical, detached.

"If you want me to chase you, I will be happy to oblige?" Sarl suggested, a hopeful note in his voice.

"No." Sam tried to keep her voice from trembling. She succeeded for the most part. Turning back to face the young Krogan, her fingers strayed to the zip at the front of her garment. "I need you to stay right there." Clinical, Sam. It's a job.

Her hands did tremble as she drew the zip downward. The air inside the Reaper was hot and stuffy. No cool air hit her flesh as it was exposed. She drew the zip down to its fullest extent, just below her navel. Despite the fact that Sam didn't consider what was beneath her clothing to be anything remotely special, she clearly heard Sarl emit a long, almost tortured groan.

As Sam passed the skin tight garment over one shoulder, she felt as though she was going to throw up what little breakfast she had consumed that morning. It was the first, hopefully the only, time in her life that she was using her body to get something…or somewhere. She was repulsed. It was a strain not to let this show on her face. Not that it mattered to Sarl. Sam suspected she could have been grimacing and he wouldn't notice. While one hand slipped inside her suit in an approximation of a caress, her other hand trailed down the side of her body. She almost hesitated at the final moment, before urging herself to simply go through with it. As soon as her palm came into contact with the pistol it whirred into life, detaching from her thigh, barrel extended. Her arm was surprisingly steady as she raised it. In the split second before she pulled the trigger, Sarl's eyes widened. There was no trace of anger, only blatant shock and pain.

"Sam-"

Three taps in rapid succession. The sound of the pistol almost pathetic in comparison to its effect. Pfft, pfft, pfft. One ragged hole where Sarl's right eye had been, a flapping chunk of skin dangling from his cheek, and a yellow fluid oozing from a wound punched between two of the unfused plates covering his forehead.

His bulk swayed, but did not fall. He continued to stare at her. His blank gaze screamed accusations at her. Sam emptied the clip with three rapid jerks of her finger. Only one round actually hit, but the impact finally caused the body to slump to one side. It hit with a dull thud and lay jerking on the ground. Sam stared at what she had done.

Time passed. Sam remained motionless. The pistol grew cold in her hand but she couldn't tear her gaze away from the dead Krogan she'd killed. Already she was trying to convince herself of ways she could have done things differently, a way for Sarl to live. Yet the body remained.

{Samantha Traynor.}

The whisper ripped an actual scream from Sam's throat. More of a screech. Regardless, the sound chilled her to the bone. Her terror was the jolt she needed to start moving. She didn't want to linger within the Reaper a moment longer. Holstering her pistol, Sam scrambling to locate the central core. Her mind blanked for a few seconds, forgetting the research she'd read, written by the teams of Alliance scientists studying the Reapers in the wake of the war. There! Sam dropped to her knees and tapped out the sequence to lift the core. As unidentified gasses hissed in release, Sam began stripping off the thin ceramic plates of armour she wore. Each concealed a powerful explosive charge, enough to set off a catastrophic chain reaction throughout the Reaper's substructure. She set the charges, giving the Corsairs a generous sixty minutes to make it back to the Whirling Whore and to safety. If any of them made it that far.

The only sounds were the dull thud of the charges as she slapped them against the Reaper's core and her urgent gasps for breath, rattling around in her throat. Only two more to go, Sam. You only need to play the hero for a few moments longer. One more...

There was no warning before a blindingly bright current arced outwards from the panel in front of her. The current slammed into Sam like a ton of bricks. She was unconscious before her limp body hit the floor.


"What in Athame's name is your Captain trying to do?" Kurin hissed at the pale human – Petrova? It didn't matter. All Kurin could think about was the scene unfolding in front of her.

Dozens of mercs were packed into a warehouse space. Clan Aggra, a multitude of other gangs, and almost a dozen of the Corsairs. Their whole crew save for Sam and the two commandos assigned to watch the docks. The promised fight had not yet started. Ashley and Mrath sat opposite one another, the table between them littered with empty glasses. Kurin winced as Ashley wrapped her damp fingers around her latest glass, grinned at Mrath, and tossed the contents down her throat in one gulp. She slammed the empty down hard.

"That's ryncol for fuck's sake! She should already be dead."

For a moment Kurin had to ask herself if Ashley's death was something she actually wanted to happen. She had no desire to become the Krogan's fuck toy, but the human soldier infuriated her beyond all reason. Maybe if Williams killed herself with this fool plan, then she could finally take charge.

Petrova had the nerve to stare back at her as though her initial question was ridiculous. "Callahan knows what she's doing." To the human's credit, she almost sounded as though she believed her own words.

Kurin growled with frustration. Without breaking her cover, she could do nothing other than stand and look insipidly terrified as Ashley continued to drink. Humans had a low tolerance for ryncol. The amount Ashley had consumed was already enough to kill her several times over. It was made obvious when Kurin studied Mrath. The Krogan was clearly intoxicated. His bulky frame swayed unsteadily. Ash sat upright. The only clear sign of how much she had to drink was her bright red cheeks. It wasn't natural.

The Reaper continued to hang over them like an obnoxious cloud. Kurin closed her eyes. Willing the Goddess to protect Samantha Traynor even though her gut instincts told her that the untrained human would fail. Kurin's first major assignment. Fucked up by fucking humans.

She opened her eyes just in time to see Ashley slam another glass down on the table with such force that it sent several others flying. Several smashed at her feet. Kurin cursed. Goddess-damn that human and the stupid roles they were playing. To begin with it had been effortless, almost fun, to throw herself into her persona. She'd already spent days winding up the straight-laced human, the intimacy came all too easily. Had Ashley been unbonded, Kurin knew they would have fucked already. Another of her maiden flings, and yet possibly something more. Goddess-damn the bondmate as well. This Miranda Lawson. Kurin uncharitably prayed that there was something especially ugly about the woman.

Another drink was set in front of Ashley. Something inside Kurin snapped. Her weakening resolve to follow orders finally gave way. Shrugging away from the concerned grasp of one of her sisters, she stormed into the middle of the crowded room. A predictable chorus greeted her. Yet more descriptions of what Mrath would do to her. Kurin sneered. They were pathetically unimaginative. Go fuck yourselves, you hell-spawned cretins. Dark energy thrummed in her veins. She longed to seize it. Instead she had to settle for seizing Ashley's wrist instead, causing the human to drop the glass she held. For a long, agonising moment, Ashley stared at her with a confused expression. Kurin feared that she was too far gone to be of any use. However Ashley's gaze eventually cleared. She snarled and lashed out with a sudden backhand that whipped across Kurin's cheek. There was just enough force behind the strike for Kurin to be thrown backwards. She made even more of it, throwing herself to the ground.

"Can't you see I'm fucking busy," Ashley snapped, her anger real enough.

"You're drinking over me?" Kurin fired back. She prayed that she had read the situation correctly. That Mrath really was as drunk as he looked, and Ashley was still capable of standing. "I don't want to be owned by someone weak. I desire someone strong, who will fight for me!"

"And one with a cock!" Mrath roared with laughter. He slammed his fist down on the table. This time the whole thing buckled beneath the impact. Glasses flew, shattered, and Mrath laughed even harder. "Now we must fight. Come Calisto. You have the stomach of a Krogan, I will give you that! Now let us see if you can fight like one!"

The table was dragged away and the crowd moved back to allow more space. Kurin found herself dragged to one side just as roughly by her 'owner.' Ashley swayed slightly on her feet. Kurin grabbed her, trying to make it look as though Ashley wasn't about to slump to the ground. The roar of the crowd swelled around them as they shared what looked like one last embrace.

"I had everything under control!" Ashley said angrily. Her speech was surprisingly coherent.

"You were going to drink yourself to death," Kurin replied. The accusation was backed up by the fact that Ashley reeked of alcohol from every pore.

"Not before that fucker keeled over," Ashley replied with an abrupt laugh.

Kurin glanced over her shoulder. Mrath was rolling on the ground like a beached whale. He had to be helped to his feet. She had to grudgingly admit that Ashley had given herself a chance, even if she didn't like the method.

"Not so stupid after all," Ashley pointed out. She wore an inappropriate grin.

"Shut up and listen. Go for his head plate with your knife. Enough leverage will prise it off altogether. If you can get that close without getting carved up first," Kurin explained.

"You're really pretty," Ashley murmured, burying her face in Kurin's neck. "When we get the hell off this rock, we're going to make good on all the damn flirting. I'm dying to fuck you."

Kurin rolled her eyes. "You're drunk!" She barely resisted the urge to slap the human across her fool face. Even if Ashley did survive, it was more than likely that she wouldn't remember a thing. Or that she even meant it in the first place. The ryncol had probably killed off most of her brain cells. "Miranda Lawson," Kurin whispered in Ashley's ear, caressing her hot, sticky cheek at the same time. She didn't know this lover from the next human female. In fact, she hated her. "You need to get through this for her, not me. Now go and kill that Goddess-damned idiot. The Galaxy isn't going to miss him."

Ash was functioning in the small space that existed between the perfect clarity possessed by the intoxicated, and the darkness of complete oblivion. One moment everything was brighter and louder. The next, she felt as though she was falling. Spinning down from a height. She was surprised that she could stand unaided, but the prospect of taking a step forward seemed impossibly daunting. Opposite, Mrath was engaged in some sort of Krogan pre-fight ritual. This mostly consisted of whipping his supporters into a frenzy with a series of incomprehensible grunts that sounded increasingly like an old man trying to clear phlegm from his throat. Ash sniggered. She was at the point where everything seemed hilarious. The drunk Krogan. The fact that she'd told Kurin she wanted to fuck her (that at least had been the truth). Her imminent death. The only thing that wasn't remotely funny was the thought of Traynor alone inside the damn Reaper. Ash tried to sober herself up by concentrating on that thought. Mrath was now gesturing in her direction. Saying something about how he was going to rip her head from her shoulders or some equally ridiculous bullshit. Ash sneered. He looked stupid.

He is stupid. All of this is posturing bullshit. And it's wasting my time.

In one smooth motion, Ash drew the Carnifex at her side. With the lucidity possessed only by a drunk Marine, she deliberately depressed the trigger twice in rapid succession. Both shots hit their intended target. Directly between his wide-set, pig-like eyes. Mrath grunted once in surprise, and then fell face first into the dust at his feet.

Ash blinked. A stunned silence descended over the crowd. She blinked again, then everything around her descended into chaos. A solid weight slammed into her side, driving her to the ground. As she hit, a vibrant blue filled the space around her. The biotic shield remained solid and unblemished for only a moment before it was struck by a hail of gunfire. Someone was yelling orders in clipped, determined tone.

"Get us the fuck out of here!" It was Kurin. "Cyrene, Xana, clear us a path. Human – Petrova, help me with Williams."

Strong hands grasped Ash beneath her arms, hauling her back to her feet. She heard one of the commandos cry out in what sounded like rage and pain as she struggled to keep her barriers in place. Refusing to be a passenger, Ash found the ground with her feet. She was able to support her own body weight and manage an awkward half-running gait without assistance. The Corsairs ran, forcing their way to freedom like a biotic battering ram.

"It would have been helpful if you filled me in on your plan!" Kurin growled as she pressed close to Ash. She was glowing blue from head to toe.

"Didn't exactly plan it," Ashley replied. She felt like she was going to vomit…or start laughing. Although the latter would definitely lead to the former. "I was just trying to shut him up."


When the first tendrils of awareness began to permeate her consciousness, Sam felt as though she was completely disconnected from her body. She was looking down at herself. An awkwardly crumpled heap lying on her back. Zipper undone, baring a wide swath of flesh. Then her fingers twitched and everything slowly started to wake. For a few moments her brain felt like scrambled eggs. The details came flooding back with unwelcome clarity. Sarl. She'd used him and then killed him for the sole reason that he was in the way.

Sam froze when she heard footsteps, thinking perhaps that they belonged to mercs checking up on their boss's son. However, there was something strange about the sound. It almost sounded like bare feet padding across the ground as opposed to the heavy soles of combat boots. Everything became even stranger when she opened her eyes. Sam found herself staring at a pair of bare feet. Attached to an extremely lithe and shapely pair of bare legs. Her gaze travelled upwards and met even more naked flesh. Naked, female flesh. Sam's jaw dropped. With a speed that surprised herself, she sat up and scrambled backwards until her back hit something solid. What the hell was an exceptionally gorgeous, naked woman doing in the middle of a Reaper? As insensible as she was, Sam still knew enough to know that meant nothing good.

"Is this form not pleasing, Samantha?"

The voice was indescribably sensuous. The way Sam's name emerged as a caress made her weak at the knees despite the gravity of their situation. The woman was of an undeterminable age – anywhere between twenty and forty. Her long blonde hair fell down over her breasts, but seemed to be perfectly placed to reveal both nipples. She stared at Sam from a wise, and yet youthful face with bright green eyes. Sam had to admit that she really…really liked blondes.

"Yes, definitely," Sam whispered. She couldn't offer anything other than emphatic agreement. "Although I have to point out that us humans generally don't walk around naked."

"The fabric you wear hides your true form. Is it not better to be transparent?"

"Yes - I mean no!" Sam replied quickly, lest the strange woman suggest that she start stripping her own clothes off. Slowly, cautiously, Sam regained her feet. She kept her back pressed against the console behind her out of a need to feel something solid, something tangible. Her fingers fumbled for the zip on her suit, drawing it up as quickly as she could. "Not to mention the fact that we tend to get cold."

The woman smiled at her. Sam blinked, only once, but somehow the woman was suddenly wearing strips of gossamer thin material wrapped around her body. The change achieved little. Sam could still clearly make out the dark areolas of her nipples and the inviting shadow between her thighs. However the real issue wasn't how indecent the woman remained, but just how she had managed to make clothing appear out of thin air. Did I hit my head harder than I thought? Sam asked herself. The woman's form appeared real enough. Sam also clearly remembered hearing the faint but audible sound of bare feet on the floor as she regained consciousness.

"Were you the one that attacked me? Sam asked slowly. "It was you wasn't it?"

Suddenly the woman's expression shifted. All trace of the smile vanished and she seemed as far from benevolent as possible. Her beautiful face twisted into an ugly mask. A split second later Sam shrieked loudly as she found herself face to face with the woman who had somehow launched herself across the room with impossible speed. One moment her figure had been on the other side of the room, the next Sam felt a physical presence pressing in on her. Sam was driven to take a step backwards but there was nowhere for her to go. She was already pressed up against the hard surface on one side, and something much softer on the other.

"Do you deny that you came here with malicious intentions, Samantha Traynor?"

Sam's mouth worked soundlessly for a few moments. She couldn't deny anything whilst standing next to the charges she had been attempting to set. "No," she eventually whispered. "Although I came here to destroy the Reaper, I don't think that's malicious. I think of it more as a public service."

The woman smiled suddenly. She took a step backwards, allowing Sam room to breathe. "You know I cannot allow that to happen."

"Why?" Okay, Sam. How to outwit a mysterious, naked VI…AI? What the hell is she?

"I have no wish to die," the woman explained patiently.

Sam stared in mute shock. "You're…you're the Reaper?"

"Of course not, you fool. If I was a Reaper, then I would be dead alongside the other renegades." She cocked her head to one side, almost playfully. "You know exactly what I am, Samantha Traynor. You have met one of my kind before. His scent is all over you."

A dull ache had since commenced behind Sam's eyes. It already threatened to develop into the mother of all headaches. She tried to remember a time when she had ever let anyone with a male pronoun of any description get their scent all over her. Aside from her aborted kiss with Grenier and the foreplay with Sarl, it had never happened. A small memory tweaked at the back of her mind, someone telling her that she had nice eyes. It had been thoroughly disconcerting at the time, but not once had Sam felt threatened by the small object she'd cradled in her palm.

The Catalyst.

He (Sam had instinctively known that it was a 'he') had felt warm. His playful words had soothed her fears at a difficult, frightening time.

"You're another Catalyst. The last one…the one I met, he said you were almost extinct. He sacrificed himself to destroy Cerberus. The last was supposed to be the one inside Commander Shepard. It…that Catalyst would have died when the Crucible fired – destroying the Reapers."

For the first time, the woman standing opposite Sam appeared taken aback. "You are saying that one of us bonded with your kind?"

"Yes…although not purposefully-"

"Of course it would not be on purpose," the Catalyst waved its hand dismissively. "Weak-willed minds are like putty. Much like those fools down on that asteroid."

"They're planning to use you to carve out some sort of empire for themselves," Sam tried to explain.

The Catalyst was unperturbed. "I know, isn't it brilliant?"

"Um, no, not exactly. That's why we're here. To stop that from happening," Sam replied. "You look like a Reaper. You'd cause panic on a massive scale. The Galaxy is trying to rebuild, we don't need more chaos."

In response Sam received what sounded like a long suffering sigh. "Rebuilding…chaos…blah, blah. Let me tell you a story, human. You obviously already know something of the split that happened between the opposing factions of my race. I was tasked with infiltrating the renegades – you mortals call them Reapers – and like a good soldier, I obeyed. I killed the lifeform that inhabited this shell and took my place amongst their ranks. As time passed I found myself agreeing with their precepts. I watched civilisations grow and prosper, only to tear themselves apart at the height of their power, taking other innocent species and races down with them. I refused to carry out my original mission. I essentially became a Reaper. Right up until the day my brethren were wiped out."

"If you became a Reaper, why weren't you destroyed along with the others?" That would have saved us a lot of trouble.

"When the wave of energy struck, I was incapacitated. I drifted aimlessly for months whilst attempting to repair myself. I must admit, I didn't think it would be possible but I am pleased with my efforts."

"That doesn't explain why you're here, helping mercenaries, pirates, murderers…scum. Why not go to the Alliance…or the Council?"

The Catalyst suddenly started laughing as though Sam had said something extremely amusing. "Because this is more fun," she replied, as though it was the most obvious reason in the galaxy.

It was at that point that Sam realised that this…being or whatever she was, standing in front of her was quite possibly insane. There was no way she would allow Sam to set the charges, the only hope of coming to any sort of resolution was to convince the being to leave peacefully. And from what she had heard so far, Sam seriously doubted whether this was even possible. Everything hinged on these next moments, and Sam was at a complete loss for words.

Ashley would die. The rest of the Corsairs would probably also be killed, or taken as slaves. And Sam had no idea what would happen to her if she failed. I'm shit at talking. Utterly shit. She was reduced to trying to imagine what Shepard would do in her position. Shepard would probably try and shoot the bitch, Sam thought with a fleeting sense of satisfaction. However the act would accomplish little. Sam knew that the Catalyst's actual form was some sort of near-indestructible crystal. No, killing it wasn't an option. Words were all she had.

"Do you like fun, Samantha Traynor?" the Catalyst had clearly grown bored with the silence.

"Very much. Fun is…well, fun," Sam replied.

"But you're not having fun right now?" she moved closer again.

Once again Sam felt the being's physical presence against the length of her body. It was corporeal…and yet not. It wasn't remotely sexy. The Catalyst smelt wrong – like stale air trapped too long in a room. Her eyes possessed a wild quality that terrified Sam to the point where she felt herself trembling.

"No," Sam managed. "I'm scared….terrified really."

The Catalyst frowned. "I don't understand." Her eyebrows lifted, as though she had a sudden thought. Without warning, she brought both hands up, pressing the tips of her fingers against the sides of Sam's head.

Suddenly Sam's vision swirled and everything imploded – senses, emotions. She heard a cry torn from her lips and then memories…hopes, fears, were taken from her mind. She relieved the terror she'd felt upon hearing that the Reapers had arrived. The nervous energy she'd felt upon meeting Commander Shepard for the first time and the frustrating undercurrent of attraction. Months of war compressed into a few horrific seconds. The anti-climax of victory in the ruined world that followed. The utter jubilation at finding her parents still alive. Mostly recently, the gut-churning revulsion she'd felt after killing Sarl, and her guilt at having failed her mission.

When the world returned to her, Sam found that she was crying. Broken sobs that shook her entire frame. The Catalyst released her, and she slumped to the floor. Sam was aware of the Catalyst pacing in front of her, but she no longer cared what the crazy bitch did. She felt as though what happened next was completely out of her hands. Sam closed her eyes and willed everything to stop.

When she opened her eyes again, the Catalyst was kneeling in front of her. Sam stared blankly, feeling the crust of dried tears on her cheeks. With an almost tentative movement, the Catalyst reached out and cupped Sam's cheek. Sam felt a thumb swipe gently through the tear tracks. They sat together like that for some minutes. Sam couldn't read the Catalyst's expression, finding it a curious mix of anger and pity. Eventually, she straightened and turned her back on Sam.

"You need to leave, Samantha Traynor," the Catalyst said in a cold voice.

"What?" Sam stared in shock. "What are you going to do?"

"Leave, now. While you still can," the Catalyst repeated. "Otherwise I will take you with me…and I know you do not want that."

"You're leaving? Why?" Sam stood, straightening out her cramped limbs.

The Catalyst turned again, her green eyes shining. "It's clear that I don't belong here. Now go, little human."

As confused as she was by the turn of events, Sam did not need to be asked again. While pirate-Sam may possibly have considered the prospect of being abducted by the Catalyst to be something exciting and new, Sam Traynor wasn't about to leave behind everything she had ever known.

"Thank you," Sam whispered.

The route back to the docking tube was surprisingly easy to remember, even in Sam's half-panicked flight. With her lungs bursting from the exertion, she didn't even stop to think about the guards. Not until the point at which she burst from the confines of the vessel, completely out of breath…and surrounded on all sides by shiny, unwavering gun barrels.

Well, that was an oversight, Sam thought, too exhausted to give a damn. Um, should I smile sweetly and bat my eyelashes?

"Where the fuck is Sarl, you little slut!" one of the Krogan demanded, brandishing his gun at her. "You've got five seconds to explain or I'm gonna to blow your brains out."

Nope, not going to work.

Suddenly the lead Krogan was enveloped in a mass effect field strong enough to lift him off his feet. Sam breathed a sigh of relief as she saw two of the commandos running towards her. The first detonated the singularity, while her sister unloaded an entire clip from her Disciple shotgun. It was short and messy, over before Sam could even appreciate the fact that they had saved her life.

"We've got to move human!" one of them yelled, grabbing her wrist.

Sam couldn't remember either of their names. All she could do was nod.

It was clear that something of some significance had happened while Sam was in the Reaper. Catalyst…whatever. It wasn't a stretch to say that the entire place was in an uproar. There were running gun battles in the streets between opposing merc clans. Scattered pre-fabs were burning. Everywhere Sam looked, Gurkan seemed to be coming apart at the seams. Sam blindly followed the two asari, not risking slowing down for a moment to ask what had happened. They avoided the crowds, keeping to the shadows as they made for the docks. Sam had never run so hard or so fast in her life. It felt as though she was seconds away from having a heart attack.

The rest of the Corsairs were holding the entrance to the docks. Sam almost shouted with relief when she saw that Ashley was still alive. Although Sam only caught a brief glimpse of the Captain, blazing assault rifle in hand, it was enough to catch the corresponding relief on Ash's face. There was absolutely no time to catch her breath before Ashley signalled to the group to fall back towards the Whirling Whore. Sam felt a swell of gratitude when she realised that they had been waiting for her.

The Whore was docked half way along a crowded spar. For a blissful moment it seemed to Sam as though they might make it. It was terrifying. Her heart was in her mouth the whole way, but they were so close. Too close. All of a sudden a wall of flame erupted in front of the Corsairs. The bay where the Whore had been docked, was now nothing but a smoking hole. Sam was blown backwards, completely off her feet. She would have fallen off the side of the gangway if not for Kurin. She didn't even see the commando until she was seized by the scruff of her neck and practically tossed behind a cargo crate. Sam hit hard, the wind knocked out of her. Kurin hunkered down at her side, occasionally firing. Sam felt for the pistol at her thigh, but it was gone. Instead she brought up her omni-tool and selected her offensive tech powers. She was still largely unfamiliar with using them in combat, but she knew enough to send a high-explosive plasma round arcing towards their pursuers. Sam didn't see it strike, she ducked back into cover just as a splattering of rounds struck near her head. She unleashed the incineration power again, this time hearing a resulting high-pitched scream.

"What the hell happened?" Sam wheezed as she collapsed next to Kurin. "Williams won the fight?"

The commando regarded her with an impatient gaze. It was hardly a good time for conversation. "In a manner of speaking. Your shit-for-brains Captain decided to shoot Mrath on the spur of the moment. And then…what's that expression you humans use?" Kurin rose from behind their cover, fired off several shots and then again ducked. "The one about the fan and the excrement?"

"The shit has hit the fan?" Sam offered helpfully. For just a moment she was distracted from the gunfire whizzing over their heads.

Kurin frowned and shook her head. "No, that's not it. Regardless, we've got Clan Aggra on our asses, but the rest of the mercs decided that this presented the perfect opportunity for them to do what mercs do best, try and take power for themselves."

Which obviously worked out well for us. Sam thought. It was one of those occasions where luck seemed to be on their side. Luck, and the mercenary code of 'kill or be killed.' Sam looked around at the beleaguered Corsairs. She found Petrova, Westmoreland and Campbell all still alive – although Petrova was bleeding heavily from a head wound. Sam then saw Ashley sprinting towards her. The Captain threw herself forward, slamming hard into the crate almost clumsily. Ashley looked like death. Her face was drenched in sweat, lank purple hair was plastered to her head, her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot.

"Did you get the job done, Chief?" Blunt. No greeting. No 'happy to see you in one piece.' It was punctuated abruptly when Ash peered over the crate and fired several wild bursts to deter any mercs advancing on their position.

"Sort of," Sam replied. She cast a glance up at the Reaper. Catalyst! "She wouldn't let me destroy her so…I don't know how, but I think I convinced her that helping the mercs wasn't in her best interests."

Ashley stared blankly at Sam for a moment. "Her? What the fuck are you talking about, Traynor?"

"It's a long story." Sam bit her lip. The huge vessel still wasn't moving. For an awful moment Sam wondered if the Catalyst had decided differently. Perhaps its idea of 'fun' was going to win out in the end. She was crazy, Sam reminded herself. Whatever happens, it's because she wants to do it, not because you convinced her. Sam felt a huge swell of relief when she saw the Reaper slowly begin to move. It was agonizing at first. Dragging itself free from its moorings like an old convict dragging a chain. Then, with an air of finality, it tore free from the docking clamps. Up ahead, Sam heard shouts of alarm from the mercs. There was one very loud 'what the fuck' from Ashley.

Sam could clearly see that Ash had dozens of questions, but any interrogation was interrupted when several high calibre rounds punched through the crate inches from Sam's head. They both threw themselves flat against the ground. Ashley shielded Sam from flying shrapnel with her arms.

"We can't stay here!" Ash yelled to Kurin, hunkered down on her other side.

"That's fucking obvious!" the commando fired back. "But my girls are burned out. If we try to move we'll have nothing. No firepower, no shields."

It was a hopeless situation. They were trapped on a narrow spar above the bedrock of Gurkan without pressurised hardsuits. It was precarious to say the least. The docking bay force fields would hold, but at the same time they couldn't leave its confines. All it would take to dislodge them was a concentrated rocket barrage or a few well-placed grenades. Ash suspected that the only reason the mercs hadn't tried was because they didn't want to destroy more of their valuable ships. The destruction of the Whirling Whore had already taken out half a dozen. Then there was the confusion created by the departure of the Reaper. Ash didn't understand what the hell had happened, especially not from Traynor's cryptic explanation. However she felt a perverse sense of satisfaction in imagining Aggra's anguished cries at the loss of his pet Reaper.

Ash wondered if it was too early to start celebrating. The Reaper had obviously not been destroyed, but whatever Sam had done, had at least made it leave. Ash watched for a few moments as it drew further away from Gurkan, half-expecting that it would turn back just to reduce them all to charred rubble for the hell of it. Regardless of what happened from that point, she considered the mission to be a success of sorts. Even if the whole squad was wiped out - a highly probable outcome – their primary objective had been achieved. Clan Aggra were no longer in possession of an active Reaper. Not to mention the fact that their leadership had been decimated with both Mrath and Sarl dead.

Don't order any suicidal charges. Things aren't quite that bad – yet. "Fuck," Ash whispered. They could make a run for one of the remaining merc ships, but it was likely they'd be destroyed before they could remove the security protocols and take off. Ash risked a quick glance over the crate, accompanied by another burst from her Revenant. Seconds later the rifle hissed and beeped in warning, its clip exhausted. Ash swore again and threw it to one side. The Carnifex at her side was almost empty. She glanced back towards Sam. The Chief wore a haunted expression as she huddled against the crate.

"I'm sorry, Sam," Ashley mouthed the words.

Sam shook her head in reply. "You did your best."

Was my best ever good enough? The Corsairs were slowly being picked off one by one as the mercs pressed forward. One of the commandos went down without a cry, having been struck squarely in the chest. Westmoreland was bravely dragging a wounded Campbell back into cover. Ash checked the situation up front again. She wished she hadn't. Her body sagged as she saw a mech lurching towards the front lines. It was an antiquated, lumbering beast, but it would be enough to simply stroll up to their lines of defence and hack them all down without pause. Not for the first time Ash desperately wished she had her Black Widow. She'd punch straight through the mech's armour, right between the fucking pilot's eyes.

"Captain…ma'am, we've got a heavy incoming!" Petrova yelled. "Unless you want me to go at it with my bare hands, I'm all out of party favours."

Cannon to right of them, cannon to left of them, cannon in front of them. The words came easily. Ash's lips moved as she remembered the words. Volley'd and thunder'd; storm'd at with shot and shell, boldly they rode and well, into the jaws of Death, into the mouth of Hell.

Her eyes misted over slightly, but she saw an approaching shape at the far end of the docking bay. Recognition dawned. It was the most amazing sight since she'd first laid eyes on the galactic treasure that was Miranda Lawson. The one thing in the Galaxy that could possibly be as beautiful as her lover – the silhouette of the SSV Normandy SR-2. The frigate came in at speed, only Joker's exceptional piloting skills keeping it from colliding with the docked ships. Ash almost whooped when her comms flared to life.

{Thought you might appreciate a lift, Captain.} Joker sounded like someone from another world, one that was far brighter.

"Do I ever, you handsome son of a bitch!" Ashley replied with unconcealed enthusiasm. "The LZ is red hot, so you'll have to come in hard."

{I always do,} Joker replied cheekily.

The Normandy executed a perfect 180 degree turn within the confines of the docking bay. The landing ramp descended and Ash saw several figures moving forward to provide the besieged Corsairs with covering fire. Ash clearly made out Steve Cortez. The shuttle pilot ignored the gunfire whizzing around him and moved to help the wounded aboard. Javik was at the forefront, sheathed in biotic energy as he plunged into the fray. He sent a huge sphere of dark energy careening towards a group of mercs, then almost casually detonated it. The mercs went sprawling. Ash still hated his guts, but at that moment in time she could have kissed him, right on his non-existent lips.

"C'mon, Traynor." Ash bodily hauled the young tech specialist to her feet. "We're getting off this rock."

Sam didn't reply, but the grateful expression on her face as she stood spoke volumes. Ash gave the young woman a helpful push, propelling her in the right direction. Normandy crewmembers were already moving to assist Sam as Ashley turned her attention to the rest of the Corsairs. Most of the commandos appeared to be able to move under their own steam. Only Kurin was struggling, trying to single-handedly lift the dead body of one of her sisters. Ash lurched across the distance. Her vision swirled, reminding her that she was still drunk, but she succeeded in grabbing Kurin around the waist. The commando protested as Ash tried to drag her away.

"I'm not leaving her here!"

However two Normandy crewmembers were already running past them. One covered the other as he retrieved the body. Kurin sagged into Ash's grip for a moment before both of them turned and ran in an awkward, stumbling gait. Ash felt a huge surge of relief the moment she heard the solid thunk of the Normandy's decking beneath her boots, as though the ship was welcoming her home. Familiar faces swarmed around her. Chakwas was already tending to the wounded. Blood was streaming down Cortez's arm from a flesh wound, but he ignored it as he applied medi-gel on the wounds of a commando.

"That is the last," Javik announced in a calm voice that completely belied the urgency of the situation. "Let us leave this foul-smelling place."

Doubling over with her hands propped on her knees, Ash watched as the Normandy's ramp lifted, obscuring Gurkan from her view. If she never saw the dirty little rock again it would have been too soon. Despite the fact that she was safely aboard the Normandy, she couldn't quite bring herself to believe that it was all over. As if to make a point, something slammed into the Normandy's hull with such ferocity that the internal dampeners did little to absorb the shock.

{Ah, it appears that they're not going to let us leave without saying goodbye,} Joker said over the comm, his voice clearly strained.

"Of course they're not," Ash muttered through gritted teeth. "We thoroughly ruined their party." She turned to Kurin. "Can you take charge down here?"

At Kurin's exhausted nod, Ash started moving. With her first steps, the hanger spun around her like a carousel. She staggered forward and would have fallen if not for the sudden appearance of Traynor. The smaller woman propped her upright, kept her on her feet, and helped her get moving.

"You need to get Dr Chakwas to take a look at you," Sam warned as they walked.

"Not when there are soldiers back there dying," Ash replied. "I'm fine, I've just had too much to drink."

Sam wasn't convinced by Ashley's stubborn refusal. The Captain looked no better than she had thirty minutes earlier. Sam found herself supporting most of Ashley's weight to the point where her legs were almost buckling. Still, she was grateful to have an occupation. Something to take her mind away from the events that had unfolded within the Reaper. If she dared close her eyes, she saw Sarl's accusing gaze staring at her. In quiet moments, she could hear his last word, cut off when she shot him down.

The CIC was a hive of activity. They found Grenier standing above the Galaxy Map with a grim expression on his face. Yeoman Clayton was at her old station so Sam remained supporting Ashley, even as she gripped onto the side of a console. If they were in the midst of a flight for their lives, Sam would have demanded that the Captain take herself down to the medbay. All colour had drained from her face and her skin was clammy to touch. To top it all off, she had started to shiver violently.

"Where's the Pserimos?" Ash demanded, clearly ignoring her own wellbeing.

"We ran into a bit of company a few hours earlier," Grenier explained. "A patrol from Gurkan. The Pserimos was leading them on a wild goose chase amid the dust clouds of a gas giant. I haven't heard from them since. We're on our own for now…and it appears as though the entire merc fleet is powering up to pursue. You must have made a hell of a lot friends down there because they're not about to let you leave in a hurry."

The Normandy shuddered again. Sam was forced to reach out and grab the edge of the console to steady herself. Even then, she felt the entire vessel groaning beneath her feet. Although she couldn't see any readouts or sensors, she knew that the Normandy was taking a severe battering from all angles.

{Our shields are at thirty-four percent and rapidly falling,} EDI informed them in a sombre tone.

"Joker, you need to get us out of here…yesterday!" Ash yelled through gritted teeth.

{You don't need to tell me twice, ma'am. Although if we jump to FTL, there's a good chance they'll hunt us down regardless.}

As Sam looked on in anguish, she noticed that Ash was flagging fast. The Captain was now slumped against the handrails surrounding the Galaxy Map, breathing in deep, desperate gasps. "Punch in the escape coordinates…from my contact. I was assured it would be…safe."

{Understood. Going to FTL in three…two…}

"I trust your judgement, ma'am, but do we even know where the hell those lead?" Grenier asked Ash.

Ashley couldn't reply. Sam watched in mute horror as the Captain's eyes rolled back into her head. Her body then toppled from the command platform and slammed to the floor with a sickening crunch. She immediately went into violent convulsions, white froth bubbling from her lips. With a broken sounding cry, Sam dropped down at her side. For a tortured moment she was at a complete loss as to what to do. She clutched at her head as Ashley's thrashed about, her limbs jerking and smashing against the ground as though she were trying to break her own bones. She looked helplessly up at Grenier.

"EDI, you need to get Dr Chakwas to the CIC," Grenier ordered in a composed voice. "Without delay." He turned his attention back to his CO, trying to keep her from flailing about to the point where she injured herself. "Traynor, help me!"

Sam added her own meagre strength, grasping one of Ashley's clammy arms. She managed less than a few seconds before losing her grip. The hand lashed out and caught her full across the face. Her eyes were burning as she determinedly tried again.

Chakwas arrived in record time, her face set into a grim mask as she knelt at Ashley's side. "You took it all didn't you, you reckless girl," she whispered in a bitterly angry voice as she set about her work, trying to stabilise the Captain with several rapidly administered hyposprays. The convulsing stopped, but Ashley's breaths came in increasingly shallow gasps.

Sam immediately knew what Chakwas was referring to. "The ampules you gave her? I watched her inject both of them this morning."

Chakwas's head jerked upwards. Her eyes narrowed. "And you let her?"

"I didn't know what was in them!" Sam protested.

"I told her one…absolutely no more. One! She's gone into toxic shock, her organs…everything, her entire body is shutting down," Chakwas reported grimly as she checked Ashley's vitals with her omni-tool. "I need to get her down to the medbay and try to flush the toxins out." She looked up at Grenier for just a moment. "LC, I believe you are in charge."

"Is she going to die?" Sam asked, watching Chakwas and a huddle of crewmembers as they bundled Ash's limp body onto a waiting stretcher.

Chakwas didn't look at her. "It would be my fault if she did…and she'd bloody well deserve it…but I'm not going to let that happen, Traynor."

{Um, hate to disturb you back there,} Joker said in a hesitant voice. {But you might wanna take a look at where we are.}

Both Grenier and Sam rose to their feet. The Galaxy Map was flashing up with their location.

"What the fuck are we doing on an approach run to Omega?" Grenier whispered in horror. "Joker, did you input the wrong coordinates?"

"Omega?" Sam whispered. She'd already had enough of mercs for one day…or possibly the rest of her life.

{Ha!} was the acerbic laugh in response. {The man thinks that I would input the wrong coordinates? EDI, a little back up here?}

{These are the correct coordinates, Lieutenant-Commander Grenier,} EDI informed him. {We are on approach to the Omega space facility. If you wish to turn around, I must warm you that we are already on their sensors. There are vessels moving to intercept us. In the Normandy's current state, we cannot re-enter FTL. We are effectively…dead in the water}

"Great," Grenier replied sarcastically. "Do you have any good news, EDI?"

{We are being hailed from the station.}

{SSV Normandy, this is Dr Liara T'Soni. The vessels pursuing you will be deterred momentarily. Joker, you may proceed on your current course. Let me extend you all a warm welcome to Omega.}


A/N: Ash quotes from Tennyson's Charge of the Light Brigade.