Chapter 10

She awoke with a start, the bed sheets sticky with her sweat. She reached beside her, hoping to find a familiar warm body but touched only emptiness. Where is she? She thought as she blinked her eyes before remembering where her love was. Then she remembered the dream, or parts of it. She remembered the cold damp, the putrid smell of rotting flesh, the flashing lights, the intermittent explosions. Liara just a few feet in front of her on the Normandy's ramp. It would be so easy to hop on and fly away, fleeing the destruction. But she couldn't. She turned away and ran towards the beam, unknowing where it would take her or if she would make it back.

She ambled out of bed. it was 3 in the morning. A dull throbbing in her head was already announcing itself. She'd been in migraine zone in a few hours. There was no point in trying to get back to sleep. She took a bath. Maybe this will calm me down. The warm water was unable to sooth her or calm her nerves. Restless she couldn't lie or sit still. After a few minutes she left. Wrapping herself in a red bathrobe she walked towards the kitchen. Liara loves it when I wear this. The apartment felt empty and it wasn't just Liara's absence. Most of their personal items were boxed and being shipped to Elyssia, the baby's room was completely empty. The movers showed up yesterday without notice and gotten to work. A few of the furnishings were being left behind, this bed most of all.

She brewed a pot of coffee and swallowed a handful of headache pills. I miss you. They hadn't spoken since their argument. Everyone wanted to talk to her. Her inbox was flooded with messages of friends, media and well wishers. There was only one person she wanted to talk to, and she wouldn't talk to her. She'd called Liara hundreds of times receiving no response. Only a few businesslike messages from Aethyta had leaked from the ivory tower. She knew Liara wouldn't talk to her until she agreed to go home right away. But she couldn't leave right away. That ship had sailed. She was startled out of her introspection by the buzzing of the intercom. Why was C-Sec bothering her at this time?

"What is it?" She asked, making no attempt at hiding her annoyance.

"There is someone here to see you." The C-Sec officer said.

"Tell them to go fish." She answered wearily.

"I have. She's quite persistent. She says she's an ex-crew member of yours."

"Who is it?" Cassandra asked.

"Her name is Lt. Samantha Traynor."

"Fine." She sighed. Of all the people, her? She adjusted her bathrobe, folding it so it revealed as little skin as possible. It was something of a vain effort as the robe was designed more for being alluring than functional. Still she managed to fold it up so her breasts weren't hanging out but that effort left the robe rather form fitting otherwise. Sitting down the length of it barely covered her thighs. There was nothing else to cover herself with.

Maybe the company would do her some good. Someone was better than no one. She walked over to the sofa in the living room. The sofa and a table were the only pieces of furniture remaining in this room. Like everything else it illuminated varying states of emptiness.

Traynor appeared at her door, wearing her lieutenant's uniform. She was carrying something rectangular under her arm. She looked a little tired and moderately dishevelled. She saw her sitting down and her vibrant eyes flashed a look of deep concern.

"Cassandra? How... what's going on?"

"Have a seat." Cassandra said, trying to keep her voice at an even keel. What was Traynor doing here? Why was she here? The last thing she needed was to deal with Traynor's attraction towards her. Traynor's eyes seem to glow in the dim light as she sat next to her. Her eyes looked her over. For fuck's sake, Traynor. She put the rectangular object on the ground, a folding chessboard.

"I have a medical problem." Cassandra said flatly. "I need to take some time off. That's all." she looked out the window. A skycar flew by quietly, further punctuating the silence.

"That's not it, though, is it?"

Damn, you are perceptive. Cassandra sighed. "It's the cybernetics. They... need some...fixing." It was still difficult to talk about. She found herself chocking whenever talking about it. It was easier to ignore everyone than to talk to everyone about it. Cassandra was surprised when Traynor reached forward and hugged her. It felt so nice to have a warm body touching her, she missed it so much. But it wasn't the same. Traynor wasn't Liara. She wasn't even a lit match to Liara's blinding sun.

"But...where's Liara? Where's all your stuff?"

"We're moving back home." She said simply.

"But why isn't she here? Oh, you've been fighting, haven't you?" There was something odd in her voice. Cassandra couldn't quite discern what it was.

"Yeah. She wants to go home right away. I just got one loose end to tie up before I go, tomorrow."

"Why is that important?" Traynor asked.

"Because the more stress I'm under, the shorter I have, the less time Miranda has to fix it...me...whatever."

"But why?" Traynor asked, her voice betrayed her complete lack of comprehension. "You're going to have a family soon. Don't you want to treasure every day?"

"Yeah, I do." She looked out the window for some time before resuming. "I've been dead before. I don't want to leave any loose ends, regrets. When I watched the Normandy blow up, my oxygen was leaking, all I could think was 'I can't go now. I have to stop the Reapers...' I wasn't always a shining paragon of virtue. I've done some terrible things that the brass has spent years hushing up. I committed war crimes on Torfan. It's not batarian propaganda. I need to atone for that."

"But...you have!" Traynor insisted. Cassandra waved her hand in the air. She didn't understand. No one did. That's why she was alone now. She explained everything about Atherton to her. It didn't help. Why not? Damn it, Traynor. You're so damn smart, why can't you figure this out?

"You have to drop this." Traynor insisted. "Seems to me you're both blind to the truth. He hates you and always will..."

"No!" Cassandra insisted. "I used to hate batarians, I hated them so much. But I don't anymore. If I can learn to stop hating, so can he. I can teach him..."

"But that's something you learned on your own. It's not something that can be taught. You can't help him."

"I can do it." She said with familiar determination.

Traynor sighed sadly. "I guess there's no point, is there?" She asked.

"No." Cassandra said flatly, though without malice.

"Sound familiar?" Traynor asked. Cassandra frowned at her and shook her head. What are you talking about?

"Right," Traynor said, suddenly reaching for the chessboard, eager to change the subject. "How would you like to play some chess?"

Cassandra smiled. A welcome distraction. Traynor eagerly began placing the pieces on the board.

"Sure. So, tell me. What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I got transferred to the Bastogne a few months back. Someone's on mat leave. It's here for the conference. Never served on a dreadnought before. It's massive, I still get lost. I have a shore leave pass so I figured I'd drop in and say hi."

"At three in the morning?" Cassandra asked skeptically.

"I called and you never answered. I figured something was wrong so I came in person."

"What about that girl you were seeing?" Cassandra asked, changing the subject.

"We...had to break up." Traynor said sadly, though looking directly at her, placing the last of the chess pieces on the board.

"Sorry to hear that. You'll find someone." Cassandra said with casual reassurance. Best not go there.

They chatted lightly while they started the game. As the game went on and the stakes rose, the conversation lessened and became nonexistent. Cassandra lost herself in the game, postulating possible moves, possible counter-moves, and possible counter-counter moves. Trying to calculate dozens of possibilities. Cassandra was doing pretty well. She'd only lost a few pawns and had taken both of Traynor's rooks and a bishop. Traynor moved her queen to bishop-six, putting her king in check. But Cassandra easily countered by capturing Traynor's queen. Cassandra smiled. It was just a matter of time. Traynor now only had a few pawns, two knights and a bishop remaining. But then, before she knew it, Traynor cornered her king with those few remaining pieces and the many pieces surrounding it. Her king couldn't move. Check mate.

"YES!" Traynor thrust her hands in the air and clapped in triumph. "I win again!"

"How...?" Cassandra exclaimed dumbfounded. "What? You had nothing..."

"It's now what you have, it's how you use it!" Traynor said, not shying away from any boasting.

"Now I know how Varro felt." Cassandra said quietly. She looked around and was startled to see it was now mid-morning. Hours had passed. She was shaking slightly from the adrenaline. The game had been unexpectedly intense. She was thirsty and hungry and started laughing, realizing how the game had gone.

"Wanna go out for breakfast?" Traynor asked her.

"Sounds good." Cassandra said, standing up.

"That sushi place you trashed just reopened." Traynor teased.

"We're not going there." Cassandra said firmly, walking towards her bedroom. She noted with some alarm that Traynor was following her. Her steps were heavy, like she was being stalked. She stopped at her bedroom. Traynor was still behind her.

"I just need to change. Give me a few minutes." She said at the threshold of her bedroom. Traynor stood there, looking at her, her bright eyes glowing with anticipation, longing and loneliness. And then Cassandra slammed the door behind her with a lot more force than usual.

A C-Sec guard followed them at a discreet distance. Going out for any occasion was hard, not just the greater public but always having someone shadow them. Only a few people approached her but it was enough to delay their breakfast a further half hour.

They had a heavy breakfast and in contrast to earlier talked little. Traynor seemed chastened and Cassandra did her best to act casual, as if the morning's awkwardness hadn't happened. She wasn't convincing. They said goodbye awkwardly. Traynor excusing herself that her pass was about to expire, which didn't sound truthful. I'm sorry, Traynor.

On her way home Cassandra passed an advertising screen, promoting the latest Elcor Theatre Company production. She only caught a portion of the add, so she didn't know what it was. But the words struck her. With renewed determination: This is my hand. I can turn it. The blood is running in my veins. The sun is at its zenith and the wind is blowing. And I, Antonius Block, am playing chess with Death.

Today was the day. She had to stow it all away and focus on one task. It shouldn't be too hard. Just standing pretty for the cameras and the ceremony. Then have a quick chat with Atherton. That's all there was to it. It sounded so simple in her mind. Of course it was anything but simple. Her migraine was ample proof. She'd thrown up twice this morning before having a bite of breakfast.

He'd accepted her request for a meeting, that showed goodwill on his part. A few hours later she and Liara would depart. Miranda and Aethyta would join them in a few days' time. The southern wing of the estate would be turned over to Miranda and her team, living and meditation rooms were being converted into high-tech science labs and dormitories. Most of the equipment Miranda had ordered was top of the line, experimental even. All very expensive and Miranda still refused to be reimbursed.

It used to be so easy to bury the darkness to focus on the task. The past few days had been agony, passing the time by working out and watching vids had done little to alleviate the pain, fill the void. Before she had a team, people she could rely on, people who had problems of their own. In helping them with their problems she forgot her own, or learned to better deal with them. But there was no one around her.

Many long hours passed tediously before she left her apartment donning her formal attire. Hidden underneath her robes were the small kinetic shield generator she'd worn on earth and a small pistol. It wasn't as powerful as her old trusty Carnifex but it would do. If she would face anything it wouldn't be a barrage of artillery fire. She'd applied some light makeup that mostly hid the strain of the past few days. A C-Sec guard escorted her to her office in the Presidium. Stravowsky was there of course as was a young salarian captain waiting in the reception area.

"Councillor Shepard. Captain Vaelon. Nice to meet you in person. Kirahee sends his regards."

They shook hands and Cassandra invited both of them into her office.

"So, give us your briefing, Captain." Cassandra said. The captain activated a wall mounted display on the wall. It showed a layout of the Presidium chambers where the batarian delegations would be welcomed. Fairly standard security layout, C-Sec guards everywhere, security drones. The mercenary groups were explicitly forbidden and the parties were to be unarmed.

"One thing has surprised me." The captain began. "Many of those present have earned the right to bear a Korlarck dagger. Korlarcks are made of congealed magma from Mount Tannenberg on Khar'Shan, an active volcano fifteen kilometers in height. They scale the volcano with only a container for the magma and a small oxygen tank. Needless to say, not everyone survives the attempt. The blades are one of the greatest symbols of honour a batarian can earn. They haven't objected to these weapons being banned."

"Isn't that a good thing? A sign they're becoming respectable?" Stravowsky asked.

"I'd like to believe that but batarians have a bad reputation for a reason. It wasn't that long ago they tried to take out the Council here with a bio-attack. They're planning something and this acquiescence is to lure us into a false sense of security. So my team is installing extra matter scanners to detect any contraband."

"What kind of contraband could we be dealing with?" Cassandra asked, her legs tensed.

"It could be anything from assembled weapons to chemical or viral agents." The captain said. "We're ready for anything. C-Sec has been most helpful. We've also secured the meeting room you booked. We'll be able to monitor everything via security feed. I'll be your personal guard."

"Really? That's not necessary." Cassandra insisted.

"Nonsense, Kirrahee's orders. This is no time to rely on bravado." He objected. Cassandra was touched and flattered that Major would order the CO of this platoon to be her own bodyguard. She detected an extra emphasis in the Captain's words, it sounded like concealed pride. They completed the rest of the briefing. They had a few more hours to kill before the opening ceremonies were to begin. The whole thing would be televised, there'd be parade processions, big flowery speeches, reception with light food followed by a full diplomatic dinner with strict protocol on everything from which meals were served down to which utensils to use. The whole thing resembled a pantomime production more than a seminal historical moment.

"So," Stravowsky ventured after the salarian left. "Are you leaving right after your meeting?"

"That's the plan." Cassandra said evenly.

"Well, the staff and I put some money together and bought you a little gift." She said, wearing a big smile.

Stravowsky gave her a small book. Cassandra exclaimed in surprise. An actual book! Physical books were rare. Some were still published, mainly as nostalgic mantelpieces used more for decoration than reading. Meditationsby Marcus Aurelius.

"Thanks, doc." Cassandra said with gratitude.

"It's helped me get through some rough patches. I hope it can do the same for you." She explained before hastily excusing herself to do some final preparations.

She opened it, feeling with the wonder the strange pulpy texture. Her eyes landed on a random page. Begin the morning by saying to thyself, I shall meet with the busybody, the ungrateful, arrogant, deceitful, envious, unsocial. All these things happen to them by reason of their ignorance of what is good and evil. But I who have seen the nature of the good that it is beautiful, and of the bad that it is ugly, and the nature of him who does wrong, that it is akin to me; not only of the same blood or seed, but that it participates in the same intelligence and the same portion of the divinity, I can neither be injured by any of them, for no one can fix on me what is ugly, nor can I be angry with my kinsman, nor hate him. For we are made for co-operation, like feet, like hands, like eyelids, like the rows of the upper and lower teeth. To act against one another, then, is contrary to nature; and it is acting against one another to be vexed and to turn away.

She stood at the podium, the other three standing next to her, waiting for the batarian delegations to arrive. She was confident if Balak tried anything she'd be able to counteract it. The batarians entered the Sol system in unarmed transports, not their fearsome dreadnoughts as their customs demanded. It was a huge concession, maybe they'd changed after all.

She was curious about meeting Governor Pazness again. She hadn't seen him since rescuing him during the opening stages of the Reaper War. Just how much could he or would he change batarian society to be less insular? A more peaceful batarian society might be the second greatest legacy of the Reaper War. Of Her own legacy.

She was ambivalent at best about Balak. Had he changed from the ruthless warlord she met on Terra Nova? Had the encounter on the docking yard been a prelude to a greater change in him or temporary deviation from the norm? His troops fought brutally and committed atrocities but so had Pazness' forces. Civil wars are brutally uncivil, moreso than others. The bonds of kinship torn asunder, obliterated in barrages of artillery fire.

And the biggest question of all, Lt. Jonathan Atherton. Publicly feted as acting on his own initiative to spearhead peace in this conflict. He'd accepted her invitation to meet after the opening ceremonies. Would he react to her any differently this time? Anderson had taught her to stop hating. Maybe she could do the same for him.

A gong bell sounded. The head of the procession came into view. She saw Balak in the lead. Wearing a golden-striped uniform lined with medals and other adornments made from various rare metals polished to a shiny gloss. She'd never seen a formal batarian military uniform. It was rather impressive and gave him an even more martial air than he normally did. Behind him were a dozen other soldiers, she recognized Charn. Interesting he'd stuck with Balak after abandoning him at Terra Nova. But the Reaper War didn't leave Balak with many choices for his lieutenants. Also behind Balak was the preacher from Omega. She remembered when she first saw him on Omega, she made a snide remark to Miranda: Jesus saves but Satan pays interest. He overheard, knelt down and stared straight at her. Let none in my sight continue to live, lest their impurity displease me. The Word is clear on this, friends. Humans are the hands of the Reapers, here to commit the galaxy to ruin! She walked away awkwardly, not knowing how to react.

She felt Balak's cold, dark eyes as he walked down the hallway, a parade of armed C-Sec guards on either side of them. Vaelon's platoon was nowhere to be seen, which was the plan. He glared at her. His mouth was curled into an odd expression. Like he was trying to smile but couldn't hide his dislike for being here, for being in front of her. On the podium she was towering over him, further increasing his unease, emphasizing his disadvantageous position. One member of Balak's party stuck out, wearing a purple uniform and a head with softer ridges. She'd never seen a batarian female. What was she doing here? Who was she? Batarian women tended to be marginalized. Maybe bringing a woman along was a sign of how batarian society was changing.

Behind Balak's contingent followed Governors Pazness and his delegation. His uniform was different, lighter colour contrasts, green and blue on white. A few medals hung about but they were smaller than the military ones. He stood ramrod straight. He nodded subtly in her direction. He had a natural air of dignity. Even by walking he exuded an intoxicating charisma. Those who followed behind him held their heads high, their shoulders straight. Pride of being in his party. The man was a natural leader.

Behind them all was Atherton wearing an Alliance uniform. His uniform was rather plain, having only a few decorations and paltry Lieutenant's bars. He'd be up for promotion soon, hopefully he wouldn't get demoted this time around. He didn't look towards her, staring straight ahead. His body was tense and he moved with jerky, deliberate movements. He looked even unhappier than Balak did. She felt immediate misgivings. Something felt odd. She couldn't put her finger on it but something was off. Maybe she should... No. She couldn't call it off now. She'd breached the point of no return, flown past her fail safe point. She'd never quit on something before and she wasn't going to start now.

The opening ceremonies came and went with long speeches full of flowery, exaggerated language that she hated so much. Valern revelled in. Sparatus spoke of honour and duty towards one's people. Nerrona's was very short. Her own speech was brief, concise. Her speech foreshadowed what she would talk to Atherton about.

"The Reapers taught us the greatest weakness is division and internal strife. The greatest strength is unity. Putting aside old hatreds is difficult, but it must be done if we're to move forward. Great harm has been done by those who refuse to let go of old hatreds. I know this better than many. I was once filled with hatred, looking to avenge old wounds. The more I did, the more the wound grew and festered. It took a long time, learned a lot of unpleasant truths about myself. But it was worth it. The person I was couldn't have saved us from the Reapers. All of us need to learn from the past, move on from the past, to have a better future..."

Governor Pazness spoke up when she finished. He had a deep, resonant voice. He spoke with intoxicating confidence, he was a nexus in how he seemed to draw people to him. "Like all of our kin, I grew up distrustful of outsiders, scorning the lower castes. When the Reapers came, like many, I blamed the Alliance and the Council. Our own response was pitiful, one branch of the Hegemony claiming nothing to be awry, the other claiming it was an Alliance attack. Millions died in hours. The Hegemony was unfit, weak to fight the Reapers. Being saved by Councillor Shepard and seeing her example showed me the way to a new future. She showed us how to defeat the Reapers. The only way we'll survive. If we foolishly cling to our old ways it will lead us only to our extinction."

It was impressive oratory, though there were mumblings from Balak's camp. No doubt they didn't relish giving up cherished traditions, much less having them belittled and insulted by one of their own. Achieving peace between these two wouldn't be easy. It was naive to think her staying a few days would bring them together. This would take weeks, months. It was better she was leaving in a few hours.

After the speeches were over the parties began mingling. The Council descended from the podiums to join the reception. Waiters laid out tables of food and drink. The mood in Presidium relaxed. Cassandra made her way towards the meeting room. Vaelon followed her, his eyes alert, his hand holding a holstered sidearm. The meeting room was on the floor below the reception area. She knew Vaelon's platoon was keeping a watchful eye on this area, though they were out of sight. A few C-Sec guards walked by on standard patrol.

The meeting room itself was respectably sized, a large oval table in the middle, a dozen chairs. A vid screen was on the opposite wall. She sat with her back to the vid screen, the doors in front of her. Her feet nervously tapped. She nodded to Vaelon who stood by her side.

Atherton walked inside a few moments later. The batarian woman in tow. He closed the door behind them. The woman walked slowly and leaned forward slightly. Her skin was dry and lined with subtle creases and wrinkles. The old woman refused to make eye contact with her, looking just above her head.

"I'm here." He said icily. "I brought along someone you should meet." He looked to the old woman who looked back at him. He nodded to her. She weakly shook her head and started to turn around. Atherton grabbed her arm, stopping her. She grimaced.

"You have to do this." He said quietly but firmly. She shook her head again. He squeezed her arm harder and she fell to her knees, she let out a pained squeal.

"Let her go!" Cassandra ordered, in a tone reminiscent of her soldiering days. She'd played out dozens of scenarios in her mind about what might happen, but she never figured she'd see him bullying an elderly woman.

Atherton sighed and released her. The woman remained on her knees, breathing heavily. He stared at Cassandra with eyes of unbowed hatred, his brows furrowed. She knew then she'd made a mistake.

"You remember that batarian who's face you melted!" He screamed. "This is his mother!" He pointed at her, still cowering on the ground. Cassandra's face flushed a deep shade of crimson, her knees shook. She looked at the woman, still on her knees. The old woman at last turned to face her. Cassandra didn't see any hatred or ire. Just sorrow. Weariness. Feelings she knew all too well. She was flooded with countless emotions, shame, pity, sorrow, but also... hope. This is it. This is my chance, this woman, right here. Now.

Cassandra stood up. "Leave us." She said. "We'll talk when we're done."

"I'm not leaving." He said brusquely. "You want to prove you've changed, you're someone other than who you are. Prove it now." His skepticism and sarcasm were unmistakable.

Cassandra walked over to them. Vaelon walked in step with her. He kept an eye on Atherton who backed away when he saw the salarian's hand resting on his sidearm. Cassandra knelt next to the woman. They looked at another, neither knowing what to say. Do.

"What's your name?" Cassandra heard herself asking. Like she was no longer in control of herself, an observer of her own actions and thoughts.

"Korelia Bok'aral." She answered quietly.

"Tell me about your son." Cassandra said, disbelieving her own audacity.

A thin smile appeared on the woman's lips. "He... was a tinkerer, taking things apart and putting them back together, learning how they worked. He could fix anything. He kept our house running. I remember we had a 50 year old refrigerator he kept working. He helped our neighbors if anything needed repairing...he'd even help those from lower castes...he loved music... he didn't like the army, you know. He'd rather keep tinkering. His children...my grandchildren were treasures. He loved them... They told me he died horribly."

"Yes." Cassandra admitted dryly. Like all her bodily fluids had been drained, from blood to saliva to stomach acid and everything in between.

"Why?" She asked. It was a simple question. A simple question that couldn't yield a simple answer.

"Because something your people did to me... Made me hate your people. I saw all of you the same. I couldn't let go. Even when I realized what terrible things I'd done, it took a long time to learn to stop hating. It wasn't until the Bahak system... I tried to warn them... That I learned..."

"Hatred is a vile poison." The woman said. "I too hated your kind. It was easy to do. And when I learned the terrible things done to my son, his friends..." She looked at Cassandra and fixed her with a firm stare.

"You're ashamed." Korelia stated flatly.

Cassandra nodded.

"As you should be." She added. They looked at another silently for some time. Each still trying to decipher the other.

"What about... his children?" Cassandra asked, on the verge of tears.

"Raising them was difficult, but I did my best... They all died by the Reapers. His partner died too. I'm the only of our family left... When I learned that you saved us from the Reapers, I didn't believe it. I thought it was typical Alliance propaganda. Making humans better than everyone else. But, I see you now. Your eyes. I know it's true..."

She looked away at the ground for a few moments. The silence was complete. Even her own breathing didn't make any sound. She turned her head and looked into Cassandra's eyes.

"I can't hate you."

Korealia reached out and held both of Cassandra's forearms in her aged hands. Cassandra was overcome with emotion. Korealia squeezed her arms and muttered a silent prayer. She couldn't hear the words, but as Korelia whispered them she felt lighter. As if the burdens of a thousand years had been miraculously lifted from her shoulders, vanishing into the ether. She smiled. A smile of relief.

"Stop this!" Atherton shouted. He rushed towards them. Vaelon stepped in his way. The salarian captain executed a dazzling manoeuvre, hitting the lieutenant just below his throat with a firm jab. The lieutenant stumbled backward, dazed by the firm strike. The salarian captain struck out with his right leg, the heel of his foot landing squarely on Atherton's crotch. Cassandra winced, seeing Atherton stumble backwards, only the wall breaking his fall, his mouth agape but emitting no sound, his hands cupping his aching crotch. She felt sorry for him. Not so much being struck in a very uncomfortable place, but the state he was reduced to. Refusing to believe the miraculous reconciliation occurring in front of his very eyes.

"Well, that was below the belt." Cassandra remarked dryly, a bit too eager to lighten the mood.

"Never understood why jockstraps aren't standard equipment." The salarian captain remarked with humorous inflection.

Cassandra nodded to Korelia who nodded back. She helped the elderly woman stand on her feet. "Thank you." Cassandra whispered to her, escorting her to the door. Korelia nodded to her. She was about to reach the door when an alarm sounded. It wasn't just any alarm. It was the alarm that sounded when the Citadel was under attack.

Cassandra activated her comlink and contacted Commander Bailey. "Sitrep. Now!" She barked.

"Shepard? You safe?" He asked.

"Yes. What's going on?"

"I'm sending C-Sec to fetch you. A fleet of batarians and Blue Suns just appeared in the Arcturus system, heading straight for the relay, and us. The Alliance is going to deal with them. Damned if I know what they're thinking. Give me your location, I'll send some-"

His transmission was abruptly cut off. Vaelon took out his pistol. Cassandra fellt for her pistol but didn't take it out. The doors burst open in front of them. Balak was there, four batarians flanking him including Charn and the preacher. Balak's eyes were glittering darkly with menace. In their hands were standard C-Sec weapons. They must've taken them off the some guards somehow.

"Your end is nigh!" The preacher exclaimed. "Prophet of the Reapers' arrival. You will reap what you sowed. Servants of the Reapers must fall by the divine scythe, thus spake the wordmaker who dwelleth in..."

"Shut up!" Balak barked with unconcealed impatience. The preacher looked downward, chastened.

"Stop this Balak!" Korelia insisted. "There's no need."

"Quiet. Chattel. Know your role!" He spat and struck her in the face with the palm of his hand. She cried out in pain and raised her fist to strike back. But Charn grabbed her and dragged her away, her objections futile in the grip of the younger, stronger lieutenant. Charn tossed her aside, throwing her like she a rubbish bag. The woman screamed in pain as she landed, no doubt breaking a few fragile limbs.

"Drop it fishface or Shepard gets it." Balak threatened, pointing his rifle at her. "Hands where I can see them."

Cassandra thought it over. Her biotics weren't up to battle standard. She'd scarcely exercised them. It wouldn't be enough. Her small shield could stop one bullet, maybe two. There was little room to manoeuvre. She still had her hidden pistol, but retrieving it would take precious seconds. Atherton was behind them even if he was temporarily disabled. She had to comply and play for time. It wouldn't take long for Vaelon's platoon to show up, likewise for C-Sec. Cassandra nodded to Vaelon. The salarian reluctantly dropped his pistol.

"What's this about?" Cassandra asked, staring darkly at her nemesis.

"Let me show you." Balak said with some enthusiasm. "Look at the screen behind you."

Cassandra slowly turned around. Atherton was getting on his feet. He gave Vaelon a dirty look. She was sure she saw Vaelon smirking in return. When his eyes landed on her a smug smile appeared. The vid screen activated and it showed a beautiful green world, spotted by bright blue specs of deep oceans and white clouds. Looks familiar... Could it be... No, it can't be!

"Recognise your old home?" Balak said, overtones of sadistic joy plain in his dark voice.

"Mindoir." She breathed aloud.

"I bet you haven't been there since you left?" He asked.

"No." She said, trying to keep her emotions in check.

"Doesn't seem to have changed much, does it? Looks the same from the last time I visited."

What? Her entire body tensed. He laughed grimly. He was close behind her. Not quite close enough she could attack him. In another way it was far too close for comfort. Like a branding iron sizzling centimeters above her flesh.

"I was there, too. Was one of my first slave raids. Landed next to some shithole called Hopeville."

"Bullshit!" She exclaimed. Her fists clenched tightly shut, her body trembled ever so slightly. No. He's just bullshitting. Trying to distract me, throw me off. Focus, Cass. Focus.

"Me and some guys found this little farm shack, a prefab. A black family inside. Never seen them before. I thought all you humans looked the same. They had a pretty daughter, young too. We took her folks and had some fun with her. The girl tried to fight back but she quit after a while. I like the feisty ones. I think she enjoyed it after a while, once she started bleeding." His voice seemed to sing with malicious, sadistic cruelty. Reliving past memories.

I'm going to kill you! She wanted so badly to round around and squeeze the life out of him, bash his skull against the ground, slam her fists into every single one of his eye cavities, to dismember him with a rusty spoon, strangle him with his own intestines. She remembered holding Aisha, watching the light float out of her eyes. She remembered telling her lifeless body that she loved her. A declaration Aisha never heard. The unspoken bond between them. The vow of revenge and hatred she swore when she finally uttered those words to her lifeless body. No.

"Enough nostalgia." Balak said. "This view is from the orbital mirror I've constructed. I know you've been looking for it. There's no Alliance patrols in the system. 2.5 million people down there. But there's good news. You can save the day, Shepard. Like you always do. Do as I say, and Mindoir won't burn."

"How can I trust you?" She said, her mouth tightly wound shut, her teeth grinding against another.

"You'll just have to take my word for it." He laughed. "I want you on your knees. I want you to confess your crimes against my people. Every single one of them. I want you to beg for our forgiveness. If you're lucky, the hierophant will forgive you. Do that, and I might let you and Mindoir go."

Cassandra closed her eyes. She was trembling, like the bottled energy of a thousand suns boiling inside her, instants from bursting. It can't be like this. She wanted to say something courageous, something from an action vid like she did sometimes. But nothing came to her. Her mind was blank except for the batarian behind her and the misery he'd put her through. She heard a strange sound from outside the room. Like shuffling feet. It wasn't very loud and she guessed the batarians didn't hear it. She breathed in and out a few times and found some calm. The void in her mind was purged.

"No." Cassandra said firmly.

"What?" Balak was shocked.

"I destroyed an entire solar system to delay the Reapers, I sacrificed thousands of lives to save the Destiny Ascension, I killed off entire species so the rest of us could live, I killed a Reaper on foot, I've taken out more mercs than you'll ever count. What makes you think you can intimidate me? What makes you think I'll fall for your bullshit? I fell for it on Terra Nova. I'm not going to NOW!"

She yelled the last word. She knelt and spun around, her leg swung around, kicking Balak's legs from underneath him. Balak fell hard on his back. The rifle flew out of his hands, landing harmlessly out of his grasp. C-Sec guards and salarian soldiers bolted into room, overpowering the batarians with ease. They surrendered. She reached beneath her robes and grabbed her pistol. She knelt over Balak, prone on his back, staring at her, his mouth foaming. She pointed the pistol directly at his face. They stared at another for a few seconds. She felt his fear, his hatred. He was helpless, at her mercy. It reminded her of Torfan. It would be so easy.

"Do it, you bitch!" Balak screamed, his voice cracking with desperation. "Do it!"

"Sorry, Balak." She replied calmly. Not for a moment had she been tempted. "You don't get off that easy." She holstered her pistol and stood, allowing C-Sec to take him into custody. The four batarians cursed loudly as they were led away. Vaelon was on his communicator, relaying the location of the orbital mirror.

"There's an Alliance patrol fleet in the next system. ETA 15 minutes." Vaelon informed her. Cassandra walked outside the room and knelt next to Korelia. A C-Sec guard was using medigel on her and radioing for an ambulance. She looked up at Cassandra and smiled. Cassandra smiled back.

"Let go of me!" Atherton yelled behind her. She turned to see him, his hands in manacles, being led to the brig by a C-Sec officer. He looked at her, his eyes burning with dismay and the same old hatred.

"You think I'm supposed to be impressed with the bullshit you pulled!?" He raved. "You're still the same! You're just a better actor! That's all! I hate you, Shepard! I'll always hate you!"

She watched him fade from sight. She felt regretful, but realized she didn't need his forgiveness. She'd obtained the only absolution worth attaining, from her victim's mother. She'd forgiven her. That was all that mattered. If he couldn't, it was his loss. There was nothing she could do about that. Nor would she try anymore.

"Shepard. Nice to see you haven't lost your touch." Commander Bailey said, arriving into view. He was flanked by six further C-Sec officers. "Though I'm a bit surprised there's no body count this time. I knew you wouldn't get all hoity-toity on us."

The hallway was crawling with C-Sec and members of Vaelon's platoon. A few security drones were active and the alarm had stopped. Everything seemed calm, under control.

"What's going on?" Cassandra asked.

"That fleet got the shit kicked out of it. They're trying to high tail it out of the system. You're fine. Crisis averted."

She thanked him. "What about the delegates? The Council?"

"They're in lockdown for now. I'll give 'em a few more minutes before they get escorted to their quarters. Anyway, it's my understanding you're booked to leave in a few hours. I'd be honoured to escort you personally to the docking bay. With all the excitement I can't muster an honour guard."

She nodded to him and turned to Vaelon. "Thank you, Captain. You and your team did a fine job. Give my regards to Kirahee."

The salarian saluted her. she instinctively saluted back, despite it breaking protocol. There was no doubt the salarian was bursting with pride. Commander Bailey and a few guards escorted her to the docking bay. Her stomach tightened seeing the frigate formerly known as the White Rider. She'd face someone she'd harmed deeply, someone she loved utterly and completely. Facing her would be more difficult than facing Harbinger. But face her she must. And so she would but with a lighter heart.