A/N: So I thought I had better give you all a heads up that you are about to read the penultimate chapter of AoF. This was never a story about wrapping up plots and arriving at a glorious conclusion. It was always planned as a bridge between the 'canon' events of Catalyst of Fate and the new world order in Daughter of Fate (kind of like how Empire Strikes Back fit in the original Star Wars Trilogy). Thank you for sticking with me thus far and I really look forward to sharing the last two chapters with you before starting on another adventure.
There are a lot of feelings contained below.
Chapter Forty-Six
The Offer of a Lifetime
London, Earth
With a satisfying sheen of sweat covering her body and her heart thumping at a steady pace, Susannah decided to push herself for the last few blocks of her run. Although she had been out pounding the streets for over an hour, her body still felt energised and her movements felt fluid. It was a perfect morning. The air was still quite crisp, but all signs indicated that it was going to be a warm day – bright blue sky and only a hint of a breeze. Not a morning for losing herself in morose thoughts.
Susannah pumped her legs faster, working even harder to sprint the last hundred metres along the featureless street – almost as though she was trying to outrun the identical box-like houses, with their sterile exteriors. She slowed to a brisk walk, finally satisfied with the burn in her chest and the ache in her legs, and checked her stats on her omni-tool. Not bad for someone who was invalided out of the damn Navy, she thought with a small measure of satisfaction.
It didn't last long enough to brighten her mood, especially not when her neighbour emerged from his front door. Susannah had said hello to the man on a number of occasions, the most she'd received in return was a grunt of irritation. He didn't return her wave before setting out in the opposite direction at a brisk pace. The encounter was endemic within their community. People kept themselves sealed within their homes – insular and fearful. Other than refuse to behave in the same way, there was little that Susannah could do about it.
The only other people on the street who seemed to share the same sentiment as her and Lucy, were the Traynors. Susannah glanced across at their house. It was much too early to pay Nick and Radha a visit, but she would definitely make the effort later in the day. She worried about the couple – being so isolated, trying to make a life for themselves so far away from everything they had ever known, constantly anxious for their daughter's safety. The Traynors were two of the nicest people she had ever met and Susannah was determined to look out for them.
Her own house was quiet as she slipped inside. On any other day, Susannah would have expected to find Lucy already awake, a cheerful smile on her face as she sipped earl grey tea over the morning news. However Lucy was keeping odd hours of late – since her return from Australia a few days earlier. Susannah suspected that her wife had burnt herself out.
Evidence of Lucy's late night toil was spread across the kitchen table. Several folders were laid open. Lucy's personal computer sat at the heart of it all, long since having turned itself off. Without deliberately trying to be nosey, Susannah glanced at the material as she walked past. Her eyes were immediately drawn to a page of notes written out in Lucy's precise hand. She read the first few points and frowned, wondering if there was some sort of mistake. Eventually she gave up trying not to be intrusive and picked up the open notepad, blatantly reading it.
"Morning you." Almost as if on cue Lucy came into the room.
"Oh, hey."
Susannah turned as Lucy padded into the room in bare feet, still wearing her pyjamas, heading straight to the kettle. As Lucy busied herself with making tea, Susannah continued to read. A small frown marred her forehead.
"I didn't wake you when I came to bed did I?" Lucy asked, oblivious to the fact that Susannah was reading her notes.
"What? Oh, no. Must've been dead to the world." Susannah replied absently. She looked up from the paper, watching for a few moments as Lucy meticulously measured an amount of tea leaves into the waiting pot. Her frowned deepened and she felt a little sick to her stomach. "Luce…I thought you dumped the Alliance's latest propaganda shit from your material? You've got a whole page here on Turian atrocities during the First Contact War. Half of it sounds completely unverified."
The expression on Lucy's face didn't change. "This is the first morning we've had together in almost three weeks and you're bringing up work?"
When Susannah's reply wasn't forthcoming, Lucy set aside her teapot. She then crossed from the kitchen area to stand at Susannah's side.
"Well, I wouldn't ordinarily…but-"
"But nothing," Lucy interrupted, gently easing the notepad out of Susannah's hand. She tossed it casually down onto the table before encircling Susannah's waist and drawing her in close. "You and I are spending the entire day together. Although I'd prefer it if there was a little less talking and more kissing."
The myriad of rational points that Susannah had been preparing in her head were driven away with the first touch of her wife's lips. Soft and yet searing hot. It was enough to make her weak at the knees. She responded to Lucy's ministrations eagerly, malleable to everything – thighs being nudged apart, top rucked up over her abdomen.
It was only when Lucy started to slip a hand down the front of her shorts that Susannah found a sliver of sense. "Ah, Luce. I'm a little filthy right now," she whispered reluctantly, especially as Lucy's hand delved even further. Susannah had to bite her lip as her hips bucked forward, straining for more contact. "I should shower-"
"You're only going to get filthier," Lucy interrupted, grinning against Susannah's lips. She ran one finger the length of her wife's sex, earning a delicious shiver in response. "So why don't you shut up and let me fuck you?"
Susannah had no further protest.
Omega, Sahrabarik
Just putting one foot after the other made her want to scream. With each step, it felt like daggers were being driven into her body.
Still, Jack had a great deal of experience with pain.
It was only thanks to the large dose of painkillers she'd appropriated from the clinic that she was able to move at all. They blocked some of the pain, made her feel light-headed and sick to her stomach, but she didn't care past the fact that she was up and walking. Jack didn't care that she was probably doing some lasting kind of damage to her body.
Her concern was the sole reason that she had dragged herself out of bed. Jack had never been much for staying still for long periods of time, but lying in that bed drugged to the hilt had felt pretty fucking fantastic. This...whatever she was doing, made her feel like shit. And she sure as hell wasn't doing anything for Shepard.
Goddamn bitch was alive. Again. Jack couldn't think about that, about wanting to slam her fist into the damn woman's face for abandoning her and the Grissom Academy kids during the war. For starters, just thinking about punching something made her head hurt. Secondly, that wasn't her concern. She could deal with the whole Shepard thing at another time. Instead her concern lay solely with what Shepard had asked of her (after Jack's expletives had subsided).
"Miranda needs your help, Jack," Shepard had asked in a firm, urgent voice.
Jack had taken a deep gulp of water, trying to be nonchalant. There was no way in hell that she wanted anyone to know just how high she would jump for the damn Cheerleader. Especially not Shepard.
"The Cheerleader can take care of herself. She's a big girl."
Shepard's expression faltered, she appeared to hover on the verge of tears for a moment before collecting herself together. Jack was still angry at the bitch for the whole being alive thing, but she did manage to feel guilty. Although being observant wasn't something Jack prided herself on, even she could tell that some serious shit had gone down.
"Fuck," Jack had whispered as the obvious truth dawned. "Captain Perfect….Williams. She's dead?"
Shepard had only managed a taut nod in response. Jack had felt sick to her stomach.
That same nausea had only intensified as time passed, to the point where Jack felt like a shadow of her former self. Yeah, as if dragging myself from my fucking death bed wasn't already bad enough, she thought. Someone decided that I was the best person for this little job.
The Cheerleader was standing in the distance. They were in some shitty little corner of Omega. Quiet, away from any foot traffic. Made remarkable only by its spectacular outlook over the busy docks down below. Though it was taxing, Jack made her shuffling footsteps deliberately loud as she approached. Her breath stopped in her throat as she drew nearer, realising just how close Miranda was to the edge. A gentle nudge would be it all took. Jack swallowed, wishing she'd had the foresight to nick some alcohol from somewhere before agreeing to be a part of this.
If someone had told her that one day she'd be the one to talk the Cheerleader off a ledge, Jack would have told that person to go fuck themselves. A part of her still wished she'd done that when Shepard had asked her. Then it wouldn't be on her conscience if the whole thing went tits up. Still things changed. There was a time when Jack would also have been the person readily giving Miranda the final push.
A hell of a lot had changed since then. Jack felt no shame in admitting to herself that she didn't want Miranda to jump.
"I'm sorry for losing control earlier, Shepard," Miranda suddenly said in a calm, clear voice. "But I don't want you here."
"Yeah...I'm not Shepard. Sorry to disappoint." Heights had never really bothered Jack, but as she joined Miranda she felt her belly clench in fear. It was a hell of a long way down. If you didn't hit something solid on the way, you'd just keep falling. Nevertheless, Jack drove herself to stand at Miranda's side - the toes of her boots almost jutting out into nothingness. "You can't tell me to do shit."
That earned a reaction. Miranda turned and looked at her, face creasing with alarm. "Jack…what the hell? You shouldn't even be out of bed!"
"You can blame yourself for that, Cheerleader." Jack discovered that it was easier to keep her eyes on Miranda. What surprised her the most was the lack of emotion on Miranda's face. "When I get told that some idiot is standing on a ledge it's not like I can just sit around and let it happen."
"Let what happen?" Miranda replied derisively. She went back to staring at the view. "You think I want to kill myself? There's nothing that could happen to make me place so little worth on my own life."
"Bullshit." Jack wasn't buying it, not even for a moment. "You can't tell me you're not standing here because you're seriously contemplating ending everything…your pain, how desperately alone you feel without her? Wishing you'd never let her get close in the first place."
"Fuck you, Jack." That hit a nerve.
"I'm going to stand on this damn ledge as long as you do. Hell, might as well throw myself off while I'm here." Jack was determined to push as many buttons as she could. And as quickly as she could. Just the act of standing was exhausting enough. She could already feel her body growing heavy. "It's not as though I've got anything to live for."
"We're not standing here playing this game," Miranda replied, turning her head to look at Jack. However there was a slight twinge of anxiety visible behind the disdain. "You need to get back to the clinic. How the hell did you even get out of bed?"
"Sheer bloody-mindedness." Jack had to wonder just how long that would keep her going. She desperately wanted to lie down before she fell over. "Much the same thing that's keeping you from admitting that you're being a dickhead over this whole thing."
"A dickhead? Really? How astute."
"How are you not being a dickhead? You're standing on a ledge. You're refusing to speak to the people that care about you. Refusing to admit just how broken you are and ask for help. And to top it all off you're going to get me killed as well. Dickhead."
"Step away from the damn ledge then."
Miranda's voice was tight, as though she was struggling to maintain control. Having never done anything of the sort before, Jack didn't know how far she could continue to push before Miranda snapped. She could feel sweat starting to bead at her temples. She didn't know which was more exhausting – simply standing or trying to talk to someone who wouldn't listen.
"Nope, not happening. Like I said, I've got nothing to live for remember? And I'm certainly not going to hang around to pick up the pieces after you kill yourself." Jack offered up a nonchalant shrug as she watched Miranda's lips part slightly. "I don't really give a fuck about Shepard – bitch didn't help me. Although losing you straight after Ashley? That shit isn't going to go down well. Don't see how she's gonna save the Galaxy again after that. Probably nothing compared to how Ashley's surviving sisters will feel though. Can't remember their names…"
There was silence as Jack's voice trailed off. Gradually the silence was filled with the distant sounds of life – the rhythmic hum of machinery, the drone of ships manoeuvring around the docks below. It was almost loud enough to block out Miranda's voice as she filled in the blanks.
"Abby and Lynn."
Jack shook her head. "Don't see why you're bothering to remember their names. Since you clearly don't give a shit."
Miranda let out a sound – half-ragged breath, half-sob. "No…that's not true!" Her voice caught for a moment. She swallowed. "I care too much. Why the hell did I let myself invest everything in a relationship?"
"Because you loved her," Jack replied simply.
Miranda smiled sadly. "And look where that has led me. Fucking pathetic."
"It's pathetic that you spent time with a woman who loved you?" Jack demanded. She was definitely growing tired of this shit, in every possible way. Something told her she needed to take a step back, but she didn't trust her balance enough to be able to take a step in any direction. "That you have those memories? You're standing there telling me that you'd just throw them all away given the opportunity? Well fuck you, Cheerleader. And I'm damn sure that Williams would be pleased to know just how little she meant to you!"
Finally something snapped. Miranda turned, facing Jack. The façade had cracked altogether, laying bare the raw pain. "Ash meant everything to me! I don't want this!" She pointed at herself, tears streaming openly down her face, clearly struggling not to simply fall apart all together. "I don't want to live with this pain. I can't."
As Jack was trying not to admit to herself that Miranda's devastation made her feel like shit, her left knee suddenly buckled beneath her. Everything unfolded in slow motion. An odd feeling of being completely weightless. The relief of finally being able to relax. Then her peace was cruelly shattered in one violent motion. A wall of blue hit her, sending her flying backwards. Jack cried out as her frail body slammed against the ground with Miranda falling atop her.
Jack lay motionless on her back, trying to ascertain whether everything still worked properly. She came to the conclusion that, as long as Miranda was safely away from the ledge, she really didn't care.
"What the bloody hell were you thinking?" Miranda was leaning over her, concern written all over her face. "I can't lose you too."
"You were ready to kill yourself, so I don't see why you care," Jack muttered.
She closed her eyes. The ground was as good a place as any to go back to sleep. As exhausted as she was, it was impossible to find any sort of peace. Jack cocked one eye open, feeling the need to watch Miranda, to ensure that any thoughts of doing something drastic had well and truly passed.
Miranda sat hugging her knees to her chest, once again staring out at the view. This time however she wasn't making any effort to conceal how she felt. Tears streamed down her face.
"Miranda." The name felt strange on her tongue. Jack couldn't remember the last time she'd used it. Had she ever? "You'll get through this."
"How?"
Although it was the last thing she wanted to do, Jack managed to drag herself up into a sitting position. Miranda was staring at her intently. Jack found it decidedly unnerving that someone was asking her such weighty questions, as though her opinion mattered. Still, this was one area where Jack had a considerable amount of experience. "By using your pain, channelling it. We have a name. A Batarian. The bastard is probably just one part of the picture but I promise you we'll hunt him down, him and anyone else we can find. One by One. And they'll fucking pay."
"Together?" Miranda asked as she scrubbed roughly at her damp cheeks. Her eyes had already gone dark and hard.
Jack nodded tautly. "Too fucking right."
"Evie, sweetheart, please don't take this the wrong way but you look like absolute shit."
While Shepard stopped short of smiling, she did nod in agreement. For the first time in recent memory, she wished that Hannah Shepard wasn't merely on the other end of a quantum communication. She'd spent most of her life pushing her mother away, now all she wanted was for her to be within reach of an embrace.
"I feel like shit, Mum," was the honest reply.
The events of the past week had served to remind her that her recovery had been far from complete when she'd decided to lead the attack on Mindoir. Muscle memory had returned effortlessly enough at the time, now those same muscles protested with every movement. What she needed desperately, was more time to recover, time to plan. Now that their opponents were slowly starting to reveal their hands, Shepard wanted to be able to take stock of her own. Or build a better one, she thought determinedly.
Her legs ached and she irritably wondered why Liara didn't think to have a chair nearby.
"I know just how much Captain Williams meant to you, but you promise me that you're not going to go charging off on some fool-brained errand. Especially if the point of these attacks was to draw you out of hiding."
Shepard folded her arms across her chest. "That's still just speculation, but I wouldn't worry if I were you. Liara is of the same opinion, which means I'm not going anywhere other than straight to Thessia."
"You'll be safe there." Hannah's nod was a satisfied one.
"Safe enough. Whether or not I'll get the support I need is another question. The asari were slow to trust during the War, I'm expecting much of the same...especially when I don't even know what I'm asking of them. What am I asking of any of us?"
"No less than you're asking of yourself."
"I'm ex-military. I've taken risks most of my life. What about others? Abby and Lynn Williams?" Shepard closed her eyes for a moment. That was one conversation she neither wanted to remember, nor wanted to forget. And she had simply listened while Miranda had done all the talking. "We're asking them to continue life as normal when they've just found out that two of their sisters are dead."
"The list of those killed and missing in action across the five colonies was released to all major news outlets thirty minutes ago," Hannah explained. "Sarah Williams was on the Chasca list...Ashley was not. No mention, not a word across any channels, covert or otherwise. Anderson has people watching Lynn and Abby for the time being, if we need to pull them out then we will."
Shepard nodded. "Thank you. I know that will mean a great deal to Miranda."
"It's the least we can do," Hannah replied emphatically. "How is Ms Lawson faring?"
"To tell the truth…I don't know. On the surface she appears to be coping a little too well, but I only need to look at her to know that she's not herself."
"Should she be?" Hannah responded quietly. "Are you? When I lost your father, everything changed. And I made the mistake of losing sight of who I was altogether. I only wish that you could have met that woman, Evie. I think you would have liked her."
Shepard bit her lip, turning away from the screen for a moment. All the years of hating Hannah for who she was, all of it seemed like wasted time for both of them. In the wake of losing a husband and a father, they'd both been hell bent on pushing each other away. "I am getting to know her, Mum. I just wish the circumstances were different." Shepard look at Hannah, studying her mother's face, marvelling at just how similar they were. "I don't know if I can be the person that I need to be. This 'Shepard.' When Ash was alive I felt as though I could, safe in the knowledge that she'd always be there to ground me so I wouldn't lose myself. I know I have Liara, and I love her more than life itself, but…I don't know what I'm trying to say."
"You think that Liara would want you to become someone you're not?"
"She will do anything to achieve peace. I think maybe that includes pushing me to be this figurehead. A leader."
Shepard looked over her shoulder, feeling guilty for even giving voice to such a thought. However Liara had fallen into an exhausted sleep only an hour earlier. She was alone in the comms room.
"Why are you even fighting?" Hannah asked bluntly.
"What?" Shepard blinked. She frowned. "What do you mean?"
"You have the means to leave all of this behind you. To turn your back on the Alliance's stupidity and find somewhere quiet to live out your life in peace, to raise a family who will only know you as their parent and not as this figurehead."
"That's not an option." The reply was quick, vehement.
Hannah shrugged. "Why not?"
"I…" Shepard was about to say 'I don't know' as a defence mechanism when she found the answer on her lips. "Because it's who I am. Not who I was born to be but who I was made to be. The Alliance…Cerberus…the Catalyst, they've all shaped me but ultimately it's my choice who…or what I become. Liara said I was the architect of fate. Ash believed in me. I need to start believing in myself."
"The architect of fate huh?" Hannah smiled sadly. "I remember a kid who used to skip classes more often than she was in them. Guess you turned out alright after all."
"The jury's still out on that one. Thanks, Mum. Despite the circumstances, this has been…nice."
"I know it won't be easy to find time, but promise me we'll do this more often?"
Shepard offered up a determined nod. "That's a promise I hope to keep. I'll check in when I get to Thessia."
When the call ended, Shepard made no move away from the console. She simply bowed her head, asking herself whether those words really had left her lips. Was she ready to become 'the Shepard?'
Ash believed in me, the thought repeated in Shepard's head. I need to start believing in myself.
Cold air slammed into Myke's sweat covered body the moment she sat up. A shout was cut short before it could leave her lips.
As her heart raced, she turned to check on Sam. Her lover stirred slightly, murmuring something in her sleep. Otherwise Sam remained peaceful, exactly as she needed to be.
Myke rose from the bed, feeling slightly guilty for leaving Sam alone, but she desperately needed to escape the confines of her apartment and stretch her legs.
After throwing on some clothes, Myke exited her apartment and gratefully immersed herself in the comforting blanket that was Omega. Although she had been home for several days, the chaos surrounding that homecoming had made it difficult to appreciate anything other than simply being.
She and Sam had spent most of their time holed up in her apartment. Trying to sleep in between nightmares. Alternating between making love to one another slowly and fucking as though they had no time at all. Celebrating the fact that they were still alive. Sometimes they tried to talk, but neither could make much sense of what had happened. Mostly Sam ended up sharing humorous anecdotes about Ashley in an effort to make them both laugh. Sometimes it worked.
It felt good to walk. Myke made no attempt to hurry. She had no real destination in mind other than to soak it all in – every last hideous scent, every last pile of rotting garbage. Unlike the pale expanse of sky on Chasca, Omega's scarified, artificial fabric felt like home.
It was ridiculous. Her entire life, she'd wanted nothing more than to leave the place. Omega had always felt like a prison, stifling her potential, her hopes and dreams.
Yet Omega made sense. Myke knew her place. No one expected anything of her.
It was her world, in a way that the world that Sam inhabited could never be.
Myke chose to keep to the busier thoroughfares instead of returning to her old haunt overlooking the docks. After the past few days, she needed to be surrounded by life…or at least enough noise that it resembled life. She soaked up fragments of conversation as she walked – easily the most reliable source of news of Omega.
Scattered amongst the conversations were frequent references to 'the humans in the Fumi District.' Most mentions were accompanied by open hostility. It was Omega after all, most new developments attracted hostility – especially if residents couldn't see any benefit in them.
Without really thinking too much about what she was doing, Myke took a taxi to Fumi to see for herself.
Before the Cerberus occupation, it was a district she had never had any cause to spend much time in. It had been home to some of Omega's more affluent citizens. The private security guards had always taken their jobs very seriously, chasing away anyone who looked as though they didn't belong.
Fumi now looked almost entirely different. Myke had never seen so many humans in one place – at least on Omega. And they didn't behave like Omegans. Instead they gathered in the street over communal pots of food and talked in groups. An open, familial way of life that seemed foreign to Myke. Children scurried about, kicking a small round ball between them in some form of game. The ball skidded across the surface, coming to a stop near Myke's feet. Slightly unsure of what to do with it, she poked it with her toe, sending it rolling back towards the group of kids. When she expected them to be wary and keep their distance, they surprised her by running towards her. Myke found herself surrounded by a small sea of human kids, all grinning up at her without fear.
"Can you tell stories as good as Samara?" one asked.
Are we talking about the same Samara? Myke asked herself. "Um, I don't really know any." She doubted that the terrifying stories her mother used to tell her were appropriate. "Where are you all from?"
"Mindoir!" came the answer, several voices joined to make a chorus. "Mindoir! Mindoir!"
"We're guests of the Queen!" another added as the first voice died down.
Myke stared at the grinning faces with an astonished expression. Clearly none of them had actually met the Queen of Omega. Nothing made sense anymore. The kids continued talking to her, a barrage of questions and comments. Mostly asking where Samara was or whether could she show them her biotics.
One small girl tugged at her hand. "Will you stay and play with us?"
"Well I don't really know how," Myke replied, crouching down to the girl's eye level. "But if I promise to come back, will you teach me?"
The question was followed by an enthusiastic nod, and several others joined in their assent.
Myke left them reluctantly. The game resumed behind her amid shouts and laughter. Exactly what she needed. However in that moment, she had somewhere else she needed to be.
She didn't let it cross her mind during the taxi ride back, nor did she think much of anything as she took the stairs two at a time up to Aria's sanctuary. It was only as she paused on the first landing, did she stop to think what had happened the last time she had confronted Aria. Her anger drove her the last few steps. It also kept her from shrieking in fear as Aria brought her gaze to bear - eyes narrowed, sardonic smile fixed.
"What the hell are you doing with all of those humans from Mindoir?" Myke demanded, ignoring the surprised looks from Aria's sycophants."
The smile slipped. Aria was scowling when she jerked her chin abruptly – the signal for her followers to make themselves scarce. This time around, Myke wasn't about to turn into a quivering wreck as Aria stood and walked towards her. She stood her ground, meeting Aria's gaze with a determined one of her own.
"Again you come into my space and make demands of me," Aria said in a cool voice. "Your lack of respect is very dangerous…some might even say life-threatening."
"I won't play your games, Aria. Why are they here?"
"It was not safe for them to remain on their home world," Aria replied with a small shrug, as though it was entirely inconsequential. "I had safe harbour to offer. What would you have had me do, leave them to their fate? Beyond that, I do not have to explain myself to you, much as you did not seek my permission before leaving Omega and going into combat with the Normandy." Aria's tone changed slightly as she continued. There was an underlying emotion, but Myke could not recognise it. "You have no biotics, no combat training whatsoever. You could have had your fool head blown off."
"And you would have cared? You murdered your own lover…my mother. I've never seen you give a fuck about anything other than your precious empire." Myke extended her arms, gesturing to the club around her. "Surely me being dead would be a good thing."
The expression on Aria's face changed – twisting, grimacing. In a way the Queen of Omega became even angrier, but it was a more focused anger. At the back of Myke's head a voice told her that she ought to be terrified, but she'd gone too far to care about such things.
Aria's vice-like grip wrapped around her upper arm. Myke found herself dragged in close – far too close to Aria for comfort. Somehow she managed to keep the fear at bay.
"Do you really want to know the last card your mother-" Aria spat the word out as though it was a foul taste in her mouth. "-played before I was forced to kill her? She threatened to kill you."
As the words sank in, Myke was unable to reply with anything more coherent than a shake of her head. She didn't believe Aria of course, but the words themselves held weight.
"Don't stand there and shake your head at me like some insipid infant. You spent enough time with Leda to know exactly what she was capable of."
Myke couldn't stop shaking her head. "The last time we spoke…you said you didn't give a fuck about me."
Aria relinquished her hold. She took a step back and folded her arms across her chest. If anything, she appeared slightly awkward. "Well I fucking lied didn't I. So don't stand there and question my motives."
With that last sentence hanging in the air between them, Aria turned her back on Myke and crossed to the view overlooking the dance floor down below. Myke remained standing, wondering whether she had been dismissed. She still hadn't received the answer that she had come looking for. Although securing the safety of the refugees was important, Aria's revelation had come like a slap to the face.
Aria looked over her shoulder - not quite looking at Myke, but towards her. "I am capable of acting magnanimously." Omega's Queen then turned back to survey everything that lay below. "Afterlife was where it all began," she murmured. "First the club…then all of Omega. From nothing to everything."
"Why are you telling me all of this?"
"Because I'm giving it to you," Aria announced simply. "Afterlife that is, not Omega."
"You're giving me Afterlife?"
Myke had to repeat the words aloud. Part of her expected Aria to suddenly burst out laughing, as though the offer was merely some sort of joke. However almost half a minute passed where Myke simply stared in shock and Aria's facial expression didn't change. Nothing made sense anymore.
An invisible force compelled Myke to join Aria at the edge of the balcony. Without realising that she was mimicking Aria's favourite pose, Myke placed her hands on the railing. A delicious shiver ran down her spine with the thought that everything down below could be hers.
She remembered hiding in dark corners of the club to avoid being thrown out by one of the bouncers, lacking the credits to do anything other than simply watch the vibrancy that unfolded around her. It was in Afterlife that she'd first seen Commander Shepard. Myke knew from simply looking, that Shepard was someone in a way that she never would be, nor wanted to be.
Then Myke's imagination ran away with her. The offer was everything she had ever dreamed of. She would be someone. Even if Aria stopped short of making her identity known, she would be set for life – all the maidens and credits she could ever want. And she would finally belong.
The whole thought process lasted only a matter of seconds. It was everything she had ever dreamed of…once. No longer. Owning Afterlife, remaining on Omega, Myke knew she'd be tied to Aria T'Loak for the rest of her life. Despite the words emerging from her mouth, Aria would never stop being utterly ruthless in the pursuit of power. Today the offer of Afterlife, tomorrow the kill order.
And Myke no longer knew what she wanted in life. At least not beyond wanting to be with Sam. However she had no idea how to make that a reality. Not with the future so uncertain.
The only certainty was that she didn't want Afterlife.
"I'm not expecting a thank you by the way," Aria filled the silence. "But I do expect that this will keep you from involving yourself in affairs where you don't belong. Leave saving the Galaxy to Shepard and her fool friends."
Myke turned to look at Aria, finally realising what this was all about.
"You think giving me Afterlife will keep me safe?" Myke asked, still unable to shake off the tones of disbelief in her voice.
Aria scowled. "Did I fucking say that? I'm giving it to you because I've got better things to do with my time. I will not offer you this opportunity a second time."
Myke pushed herself away from the rail, taking a decisive step backwards. "Well I am going to say thank you…but I don't want Afterlife. And you don't need to keep me on a leash. I can make my own decisions."
"What decisions?" Aria demanded in a low voice. "You would choose your pathetic little human lover over me? She will get you killed. Shepard will get you killed."
"I may have also chosen to love a human, but I'm not Liselle," Myke said quietly, preparing to leave. She backed away from Aria, half-expecting any moment to be her last. Not being able to read Aria's expression, she didn't know whether mentioning her sister's name had been an awful mistake or not. "I didn't expect you to protect the colonists, but now I think I know why you did."
There was only an uncharacteristic silence in the wake of Myke's statement, soon completely overwhelmed by Afterlife's incessant soundtrack.
The half-expected outburst never materialised and, as Myke made it back to the main floor, she was left asking herself whether the conversation ever took place.
SSV Tai-Shan, Sol
It had been almost four days since the events on Chasca, yet every time Alves looked at her hands she still saw the blood of the young woman she'd been forced to kill. She'd managed only a few hours of sleep since, preferring to go without rather than see the hope drain from Sarah Williams' eyes again. Her sole means of consolation was reminding herself that there had been no other choice.
"Ma'am? Captain Alves?"
Alves looked up from the meal she had absently been pushing around on her plate. From the panicked expression on the young Yeoman's face, she knew her expression must have looked as hostile as she felt.
"Err…Fleet Admiral Kessler is ready to see you, ma'am."
She snorted. "He keeps me waiting for six hours and now he's ready to see me? I'm eating my damn lunch. You can tell him I'll see him when I'm fucking ready."
"Um, he said you'd say that and he also said to say that it's not a request, it's an order."
Alves threw her fork down into the goop that the Navy tried to pass off as food. She ignored the bright red sauce that splattered across the table and rose to her feet. The Yeoman actually took a step backwards as she stormed past.
The Tai-Shan was a soulless vessel. Alves hated spending any length of time on board. The vessel was too big, too many faceless naval personnel all thinking that their job was the most important one in the Navy. She preferred the intimacy of a frigate – where she knew everyone's name and no one could avoid pulling their weight.
Still, a part of her did admire the efficiency of the well-oiled machine. As much as she hated it, the Tai-Shan was the perfect reminder of the Alliance's might. In the wake of the Reaper War, while the other races had been busy weeping over the lost, humanity had risen stronger than before. Sacrifices had to be made – including that of Sarah Williams. It didn't make what she'd had to do any easier, but it gave her a purpose.
Kessler was lounging on one of the sofas in his quarters, looking immensely pleased with himself as she entered. It took every ounce of willpower she had not to launch herself at the bastard and pound her fist into his smug face. While she managed not to do that, she saw no need to restrain herself when opening her mouth.
"What the hell happened on Chasca?" she demanded. "I get ordered to respond to the attack because of the Williams connection only to find myself on the receiving end of a complete and utter balls up. Your damn lapdog is responsible for Ashley Williams' death. Where the hell does that leave us?"
"I must admit I'm surprised to find you upset over Williams' death. I thought you didn't care for her type?"
"What type? The vomit-inducing, straight-laced, 'married to the corps' type? I can't say I do, but I personally had nothing against Williams. And unfortunately her type is good for our image."
Kessler nodded. "In a way that the Butcher of Torfan isn't."
"Fuck you, Kessler." Alves scowled.
He smirked. "After all I've done for you, 'fuck you' is the only thanks I get?"
"What exactly have you done for me other than fuck my whore of a mother thirty-five years ago? Or should I be grateful for you packing her off to Mindoir in order to get her and her pregnancy out of the way of your rise through the ranks?" Alves asked, silently offering up thanks that she barely resembled Kessler. "Since that worked out so well for us."
Kessler rose to his feet in a surprisingly swift movement. As he advanced towards her, Alves wondered if she'd pushed too many buttons for one conversation.
"Everything you are is because of me! You should be rotting in a military prison after what you did on Torfan. Instead you're a decorated marine and one of only a handful of individuals I've entrusted with our plans moving forward." He straightened slightly, calming himself before continuing. "I need you with me on this Cristiane, but if you jeopardise everything that we've work for-"
Alves held up her hands in surrender. Kessler's daughter or not, she knew she was treading on thin ice. "I'm behind this. One hundred percent." She ducked her head slightly, hating to show any sign of weakness in front of him. "Chasca…it wasn't easy. Even for someone like me. Sarah Williams was just a kid."
Kessler placed a hand on her shoulder. For a moment at least, it felt almost familial. "Her sacrifice wasn't in vain. Across Alliance space, kids just like her are enlisting in droves. Recruitment is up almost fifty percent, postponing our plans for introducing conscription. Support for the Alliance in general has skyrocketed. Everything is falling into place, beyond our expectations."
"Aside from the whole Ashley Williams situation of course. If this is going to continue to work, you need to keep your lapdog on a shorter leash."
"I wear no leash."
The four words carried within them an unspoken magnitude of hate and pride. Alves schooled her expression into an impassive mask as she turned to face the individual who had just walked into the room.
Varek Kor'Amon.
The Batarian clearly made no effort to hide his own reaction to her presence. All four of his eyes were narrowed in her direction. All four eyes indicating exactly what he thought of her without the need for a further word.
Alves didn't care about his posturing. She only cared about Varek Kor'Amon's usefulness. Beyond that, he was just another stinking Batarian. As disgusting as the rest of his kind…and as expendable.
"Kor'Amon." It was a terse greeting.
"Butcher." He practically spat the word out.
"There was a plan," Alves said coldly, refusing to be intimidated. "You deviated from it."
A cruel grin spread across his face. Or at least she thought it was a grin. "You expected my men to simply stand back while the Normandy itself sat there like a fat prize ready for the taking? Unfortunate that they were unable to catch you in the crossfire."
Alves surged forward. "You four-eyed cunt, I'm going to-"
"Right, now that the pleasantries are over," Kessler interrupted, stepping between the two of them. "Shall we get down to business? With everything going so well, it would be a shame to ruin our plans simply because the two of you don't get along." Kessler regarded Varek Kor'Amon with a level expression. "I regret the escape of the Normandy, but surely you agree the far bigger prize is Shepard?"
"The day I have her head on a spike will be a great day," Kor'Amon agreed. "But do not misunderstand me, Kessler. The Batarian people will not merely be appeased with vengeance. We will have what we were promised."
Kessler offered up a conciliatory smile in response. "And I will keep that promise, my friend. As soon as we achieve our goals, Mindoir will become part of the Batarian Hegemony."
Despite the fact that she knew her father's smile was forced, Alves felt sick to her stomach.
She wondered how much more humanity would have to compromise before their final victory.
