-Liara-

The holding cell was thinning out. One by one, buyers were coming in led by Serj to look her and the rest of the prisoners over. Some of the buyers were batarian, some human, some asari like herself. Not one of them so much as batted an eye upon witnessing the room full of shackled and nude captives, and Liara figured it wasn't their first time buying living beings. Out of the dozen or so clients that Serj led past her, none asked for her price. Liara didn't blame them. She had grown violently ill since awakening in the cell. Her stomach lurched with every subtle shift of the ship's trajectory. Pain throbbed in her temples and her vision was blurry around the edges. She had a hard time concentrating, and could feel cold sweat dripping down her bare arms and chest.

Even will all that, the stares of the other prisoners was somehow worse. They glared at her from time to time with deep-seated contempt burning in their eyes. They blamed her for what was happening to them, and could she blame them? Wasn't it her fault? Every time she went fishing for that answer, her memory felt foggy and her head ached worse than before. She stopped trying to think about it, and resigned to sit quietly and await the sickness to pass; if it ever, in fact, did. No one came near her as she sat. She was the only one truly alone in the whole cell.

Serj was walking a tall, older, man with gray streaks in his hair out the door with his newly acquired slaves-a red-headed woman and another asari-when Liara realized her opportunity to do something about her sickness. She raised her hand to the volus as he passed, hoping he would notice and stop. Thankfully, he did. "What is it, Miss T'Soni. Be quick. I'm with a client."

"Serj, I think I'm sick," Liara said, and even her voice sounded ill. It was weak and thin. "I'd like to throw-up, if you'd allow it. A bathroom perhaps?"

He stared at he for a moment before putting up a hand. "Let me deal with my client right now."

She nodded, he left, and she was alone again.

The room was really looking thin then. There had been dozens of prisoners when she'd first woken up, and now there were less than one dozen total. The volus and their business associates acted quick: it had only taken them a few hours to move thirty slaves or more. Jack, Ashley, Sam, and a dark-haired woman who Liara figured to be the cloaked figure who'd she met in the shed so long ago, still remained. They were grouped together in a little circle, talking amongst each other. Liara knew she'd done bad to them-though thinking about it made her lightheaded-but she still found herself longing desperately to be part of that group; to not be alone and sick and in shackles. Jack's eyes met hers on more than one occasion, though, and she saw hatred there and knew that if she even made a move in their direction, she'd likely be strangled by the tattooed woman.

The door beside her slid back and Serj walked back in, alone. He stepped before her and gestured for her to lift her hands. Liara raised her brow, surprised, and did as instructed, though she could only get them up near her breasts with the shackles. Serj bent and slid a card over the cuffs around her wrists, freeing them. "Come," he said once he'd done the same to her ankles. Liara swallowed a nervous lump in her throat, bowed her head, and stood. She glanced to the circle of women who'd she'd wronged and saw them watching. Jack mouthed the word 'cunt' and Liara quickly averted her eyes.

"Thank you, Serj," Liara told the volus as he led her out the door and into a long, white, hall. She paced beside him, rubbing her wrists. "I really-" A stab of pain shot through her stomach and she collapsed to one knee. She grit her teeth, wincing, until the pain left her.

Serj was waiting patiently before her, watching.

"I'm sorry... I don't know what's wrong with me," she said, standing and slowly moving forward, one hand over her stomach.

"All sickness passes in time."

He led her to a clean, white, bathroom at the end of the hall and gestured for her to enter. She nodded her appreciation and stepped inside. The door slid shut behind her. Liara stumbled forward to the toilet, dropped to her knees, and hovered her head over the rim. Her stomach lurched again, her vision blurred, and then she was coughing and gagging until her stomach relieved itself.

When it was done, she clambered back to her feet and went to the sink and mirror beside the bathroom door. She ran cold water, cupped her hands to catch some, and splashed it in her face. Then she got more and drank it down before wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand. She lifted her gaze to her own reflection and grimaced at what she saw. Her cheeks looks thin and her eyes had dark circles beneath them. She splashed more water in her face, but it didn't help: she was as sickly-looking as ever.

Serj tucked his head in the doorway. "Finished yet?"

Her stomach rumbled and she didn't know if she truly was or not. She nodded anyway, afraid to press the volus' generosity any further.

As they walked back to the holding cell, Liara dropped to her knee twice more, the stabbing pain in her stomach growing more violent. The third time she fell, Serj spun on his heel to face her. He spoke with impatient annoyance. "Come on now. You're just embarrassing yourself, Miss T'Soni. Get up."

"I'm sorry," she said meekly. "I really don't know what's happening to me."

"Up," he commanded again.

When they'd gotten back into the holding cell, she quickly collapsed to her same spot, isolated from the others. Serj lifted the shackles, looked at her seeming to debate whether she was worth restraining, and decided against it. "Don't make me regret it."

"Yes. Thank you," she told him.

When he was gone, she laid on her side and rubbed her fingers into her temples where the pain still throbbed. Her skin felt hot and itchy against the cold floor of the cell. She was scratching at it with one hand, rubbing her forehead with the other, when sleep finally, graciously, came.

She dreamt of whispers in the dark and glowing circles pressed close to her face, speaking into not only her mind, but her soul. When she went to scream, their whispers replaced her voice. When she made to stand, their legs became hers. When she clawed at the circles, they clawed back. When she began to cry-

-she woke up in a cold sweat and screamed.

The quiet, bemused, reaction of the holding cell's captives met her. She sat, wide-eyed, her elbows propping her up, and gasping for air as they stared. She saw Jack shaking her head in disgust. Liara buried her face in her hands and rubbed at her eyes. She had no idea how long she'd slept, but her stomach felt better, and there were another two prisoners missing from the cell; thinner and thinner the room grew.

She sat that way, dazed, until Serj returned to the room with two other volus at his sides. He looked to her, then back at Jack's group. "On your feet, ladies. Our leader wants to speak with you."

"Fuck you," Jack snapped, but the woman beside her with the painted lips and ponytail put a hand on her arm and whispered something. Jack pursed her lips, glaring at the volus, but seemed to get herself under control.

Serj pulled a baton from his belt's holster and flicked a switch on its handle. The tip came alive with electricity. "Open your mouth again and I'll stick you with this. Now on your feet." He turned to Liara. "You too, Miss T'Soni."

"Me?" Liara questioned, placing a hand to her chest.

"That's right."

The five of them, Jack, Sam, Ashley, the painted-lip woman, and herself were led outside, the volus all holding their ignited batons in their hands, ready to strike. They had left the shackles on the other's ankles, so the going was slow as they shuffled forward in a line. Liara walked beside them, doing her best not to make eye contact with any of them in fear of further upsetting the situation. Her head throbbed with every step down the hall, but Serj's hand was on her hip, urging her forward every time she slowed.

They reached an elevator, got in, and Serj pressed a button. The sudden shift in momentum got Liara's stomach turning again, but she closed her eyes and held the lift's handle until it passed. The doors opened onto another hall that led them around a curving path. It ended with a short walkway into a big room with monitors hung along the ceiling. Three volus were seated at a circular table with datapads; they paid none of the shackled and marching captives any attention. Serj shifted their path around a corner of the room, and they were made to traverse yet another, long, hall.

Finally, they came to a set of dark, glass, doors that slid apart upon their arrival.

The room inside was dim and a cool gust of conditioned air swept out from within. Soft carpet pressed against Liara's bare feet as she crossed the doorway. Fires burned in sconces along the wide-set walls, hidden behind blue, glass, domes that cast the flames in a cold, icy, light. Serj led them up a short set of carpeted stairs and out onto a wide section at the rear of the room where the lights grew a bit brighter, and a long strip of dark metal ran along the floor.

"Kneel here," Sej commanded, pointing at the metal.

"What the fuck is this shit?" Jack asked.

"Kneel her," Serj told a volus.

Liara didn't see, but her heard the crackle of electricity and Jack cry out in pain, and then the tattooed women was shoved to her knees on the metal. Liara carefully lowered herself to it as Ashley Williams did the same beside her. It was hard and freezing on her knees, and her head hurt even more upon its touch.

Serj looked them up and down, his baton slapping his open palm. "You will be respectful. You are about to be in the presence of our glorious leader. One day soon he will be as revered and loved as your own Commander Shepard, and then some. It would be wise to stay on his good side, ladies. Do not upset him." Serj's eyes swept across them, all kneeling in a line, and landed on Jack. "In fact, gag that one."

"Oh, piss off already," Jack said, but then Liara heard her voice muffled and silenced.

A moment later, the back wall split apart in halves with a hiss. Liara squinted, the noise adding to her headache, as a platform slid out from beyond the wall. Her eyes widened with apprehension at what came with it.

A massive krogan was seated on a throne, his back turned to them as he hunched over an array of floating screens and terminals. He spun the chair he was in to face them, and Liara saw his eyes were a queer shade of white and nothing else. A dark robe clung to the hulking figure of his body, spilling from the sides of the chair and pooling at the platform's floor. He stood, those white marbles rolling around as he surveyed the women that knelt before him. Somewhere to her left, she heard the familiar sound of Sam quietly sobbing.

The krogan stepped from the platform, and all his computer screens folded in on themselves and tucked back into their terminals behind him. A forked, dagger, of a tongue shot out from within his thin lips and licked before he spoke. "Do any of you know who I am?"

None of them, Liara included, said a word.

"It matters not," he went on; the tone of his voice had an odd, salarain-like quality set atop its rough, krogan, growl. "All you need know is that it is I who now controls your fates. Either you will be sold as common slaves or you will accept my offer. An offer that I had hoped your human 'hero', Shepard, would have accepted by now. Alas, she has not. And so the offer now extends to one of you. Only one." The krogan's white pits landed on Liara and her breath caught in her chest. He looked to Serj. "Why bring the asari? I need a human, Serj."

Serj folded his hands before him and bowed before speaking. "I was hoping, Master, that I could take her on as my own."

"You want to keep her?" The krogan's bassy voice boomed.

"I do."

"She's yours, then," he said before turning back to the others. "Now, as I said, I only need one of you to send the message I'm hoping to send. So who is it going to be? Who's this one?" He asked, pointing at Ashley.

"Chief Ashley Williams, Master. She served with Commander Shepard aboard the Normandy. She helped save the citadel. She ranks high in the human's Alliance Military. She would send an excellent message as your slave."

The krogan nodded his massive head. "What about this one with the gag?"

"Jack, also known as: Subject Zero. She also served with Commander Shepard. Normandy S-2. She took part in the famous Omega mission. Her mouth is... problematic, but you could always cut out her tongue."

The krogan made an odd grunting sound that might have been his laughter. "Yes, I suppose I could. This one?"

"We believe that is Kasumi Goto, though we haven't been able to confirm it as of the moment. If it is, she served with the Commander as well, and has gathered quite the amount of infamy amongst the shadier dens across the galaxy. She's the 'world's greatest thief'."

The krogan's tongue darted out again before he stepped in front of Sam. "And who's this?"

"Samantha Traynor. A former Comm Specialist aboard the Normandy."

"Are you crying, human?" The krogan growled.

Sam's answer came as a barely-audible whisper. "N-No."

"Good, because you're species doesn't deserve to shed tears after all the atrocities you've committed in this galaxy," he snapped at her. "So they all have ties to Shepard, then? Maybe I'll take all of them." He looked over the women before him in a sweeping glance, his hands on his hips. "You hear that, humans? I'm giving you the chance to swear your loyalty to me. Your lives won't be great here. No denying it. But I won't kill you, and that's more than I could say for some of the clients that come here looking to buy slaves."

"Why are you doing this to us?" It was Ashley Williams voice asking the question.

"You can blame your 'great' Commander Shepard for this. She refuses to bend her knee, and I grow impatient. It may take us a very long time to break her. In the meantime, you filthy humans will have to do."

"If we refuse?" The woman they'd called 'Kasumi's voice.

"Either I sell you or I spill your blood here and now," the krogan explained, unsheathing a short blade from within his robe. "I haven't decided yet."

Liara's stomach lurched again. She put one hand on her stomach and the other over her mouth. She closed her eyes and hoped with everything in her that she wouldn't vomit in front of the krogan.

She was terrified of what he might do to her if she did.

-Miranda-

Her hands pressed against the wall, Miranda leaned forward, hugging her body to it, and poked her head around the corner's edge. Another long hall stretched on before her, empty. Miranda sighed. She'd been looking for Shepard for the last fifteen minutes without success. The volus she'd interrogated had said the commander was on this level of the ship, but of course he could have been lying; the volus had done a fine job of that so far. She hadn't run into any trouble, either, though, and she felt good about that at least. She didn't think the ship was quite as swarming with volus as the one currently unconscious in a storage room had made it seem.

The Carnifex pistol was the first thing she sent into the hall, and her footsteps followed. She stayed lowed to the ground, letting the gun's nozzle guide her path. Halfway through, a glass door with red and blue painted symbols on its handle cut into the far wall. She crossed the hall and peered through the glass to the room within. It was a medical center; gurneys and bandages and computer terminals and machines. No volus, though, and no Shepard. She moved on.

The hall ended in a T-intersection. Miranda leaned out to get a look down either path. She gasped and snapped her head back. Two volus were standing before a door a quarter of the way down the left hall. She pressed up against the wall and slowly stole another glance. They short aliens remained where they were; they hadn't seen her. The carried no weapons other than the batons that swayed from their belt's holster at their hips. Miranda's thumb ran along the Carnifex's handle. If it came to it, she'd shoot them. They were terrible slave-trading monsters who were responsible for all the pain and misery Jack, herself, and the others had experienced. So, yeah: she'd shoot. If it came to it.

The nozzle's sights fell on them as Miranda pushed away from the corner and entered the adjacent hall. She stayed low and side-stepped to the far wall; the side they were on. Still, the volus hadn't seen her. She crept forward.

Miranda was ten feet away from the nearest one when she made the decision. The Carnifex was tucked into her belt, and she rushed forward. The volus hadn't even noticed her until she was practically on top of him. His head turned her way and he yelped, but Miranda already had a grip on his shoulders. She flung him violently into the wall, the back of his head cracking off its hard siding, and ripped the baton from his holster as he collapsed. The other volus was moving toward her, reaching for his own weapon, but she stepped forward, igniting the baton, and jabbed his reaching hand with it. The electricity crackled as it bit his suit and the volus screeched. Miranda swung the black stick backhanded, like a tennis racket, at his temple. It connected with a smack. He stumbled back and dropped to his ass. She followed in pursuit. As he got his hands beneath him to stand once more, she lifted her leg, bent her knee, and drove the heel of her boot across his jaw. He dropped to the floor unconscious.

She looked back to the other, but he was out cold too. She caught her breath, tucked the baton into her belt, and prepared for whatever it was awaiting her behind the door they guarded.

What awaited her turned out to be Shepard.

The commander was in the center of an oval-shaped, dark, room. It was cold inside and completely empty, save the chain that lowered from the ceiling and was keeping Shepard's wrist suspended over her head; her feet barely making contact with the floor below. Her back was to Miranda, her head slumped forward.

"Shepard," Miranda whispered as she rushed into the room. As she neared, the bruises along the commander's back came into view beneath the room's single light shining down upon her. There were fresh wounds as well as old ones; they'd been whipping her. "Shepard!" Miranda said again, louder, as she stepped before the suspended woman.

The commander's face was a sad sight. Her left eye was blackened and swollen. Her bottom lip cut and trickling blood that pooled on her chin in dried clumps. Miranda felt tears coming, but took a breath and held them back: she needed her focus. She lifted her hand to her former commander's face and slid her thumb gently along Shepard's cheek. Shepard's eyes opened to slits and gazed down at her with a hazy confusion lingering in them. "Sam?" Her voice came quiet and weak and robbed of all the confidence she usually carried in it.

Miranda smiled wanly. "No, Commander. It's Miranda."

"Miri?" Shepard said, and her lips lifted at the corners in an attempted smile, but fell short. Her eyes closed again.

"Stay with me, Shepard. I'm going to get you down from there."

Miranda scanned the room. Her eyes fell on a control panel back beside the door. She went to it, fiddled with the controls until she had a grasp of them, and lowered the chain above Shepard's head, carefully, to the ground. Shepard slowly crumpled up into a ball on the floor as the chain allowed it. Miranda finished and rushed back to her. "Shepard? You still with me?" She asked, kneeling beside the commander and pulling her wrists from the cuffs around them.

"Hm?" Shepard moaned. Her brow lifted, but her eyes remained closed.

Miranda propped Shepard's head against her thigh and brushed some of her hair back. Shepard grimaced, coughed, and her hands weakly fell to her stomach. Miranda leaned forward and squeezed her commander's body to her own. "It's alright, Shepard. I'm here. No one's going to hurt you anymore. You feel sick because you're going into withdrawal." She stared at the commander in amazement. It was a damned miracle that she was conscious at all. She'd been beaten, likely starved, and taken off the drugs the volus were keeping her under. She was in pain, malnourished, and detoxing, and yet she still had the strength to remain awake. Any normal being would've collapsed under the same circumstances.

"Withdrawal?" Shepard echoed, her eyes remaining closed.

"The volus had been drugging you, Shepard. Keeping you under sedation from the very start."

Her brow crinkled. "No... that... that can't be..." She shook her head and lifted a hand, trying to ball it into a fist.

"Shhh, Shepard," Miranda soothed her, cupping her hand around the commander's fist and lowering it back to her side. "There's a medical center not far from this room. Can you walk?"

"...walk..." Shepard agreed with a nod.

Miranda carefully got the commander's arm around her neck. She crouched beside her, wrapping her free arm around Shepard's thin waist and slowly stood. Shepard came up halfway with her before her foot slipped out and she fell back to her elbows. Miranda sighed and looked her over. "Alright, you're not going to like this, Shepard, but I have to carry you."

Shepard's eyes were closed and either she hadn't heard, or had no protest; she remained silent.

Either way, Miranda knelt and dug one arm beneath her knees, the other under her shoulders, and lifted. Shepard felt light in her arms as she came up with the commander held like a broom carrying his bride; she'd grown noticeably thinner in the last few days. Her head slumped to the side, resting on Miranda's chest as Miranda stood and carried her out of the room.

Outside, the two unconscious volus bodies remained unstirred. Miranda looked them over, thinking, before crossing the hall, gently setting Shepard down, and returning to drag each of them by their ankles into the cell. When it was done, she unsheathed the baton at her hip, ignited it, and drove it into the door's control panel. The panel fizzed, crackled, and went dark. Hopefully, it would hold the volus within if they awoke. She scooped Shepard back into her arms and headed back the way she'd come to the medical center.

The room was bright, clean, and sterile. The glass doors slid shut behind them as Miranda carried Shepard to the central gurney and laid the commander carefully down upon its padded top. "Miri," Shepard's voice came weak and hoarse, but she managed a little smile. "Remember when we met? ...Cerberus medical facility... Lazarus... project..."

"Sure, Shepard. I remember," Miranda told her, scanning the room for something useful. She spotted a glass case with packets of medi-gel lining its shelves and crossed to retrieve it.

"You saved me then..." Shepard continued. "And you're... saving me again, aren't you?."

"Yes. I am," Miranda told her, crossing back to the gurney with a packet of medi-gel in her hand. "This is going to hurt, Shepard."

"Everything hurts anymore, Miri," Shepard told her and rolled to her side.

The medical salve came out smooth and cold into her palm. She rubbed her hands together and then layered it onto the commander's wounded back. Shepard sucked air through her grit teeth, but did not cry out. Miranda shook her head sympathetically as her hands moved over the bumps and cuts of the commander's back. The gel went to work immediately, closing fresh wounds and scabbing over old ones before sealing to protect them from infection. Miranda pulled a medicinal box from below the gurney and opened it to find rolled bundles of bandages. She helped Shepard sit before wrapping the woman's body.

"How's the pain?"

Shepard put a hand to her head and winced. "Better, but... I can't focus on anything. I can't see straight."

"That's the withdrawal," Miranda explained. "There's, unfortunately, nothing I can do about that right now. Move your hand, let me see your mouth."

Shepard did, and Miranda applied some medi-gel to the cut on her swollen, cracked, bottom lip. She rubbed more into the puffy dark rim around the commander's left eye before sticking a square bandage with an adhesive coating atop of it. She stepped back and looked over her work. "Well, that's all I can do for you right now, Shepard." Her eyes flicked across the room, landing on a sink. "Wait, here. Drink some water."

She filled a glass, returned, and held it to the commander's lips. Shepard drank half of it down before coughing and spitting it back up. Miranda quickly took it away and used a bandage to wipe the water and saliva from Shepard's mouth. "I can't do it, Miri... I just... I feel..." Her eyes closed again and she looked ready to collapse to the gurney.

Miranda was there to take her by the shoulders and lower her gently to the padding. "Shhhh, Shepard. It's okay. You don't have to. Just rest."

"No... rest..." Shepard protested with a shake of her head. "Can't... we have to... save them, Miri. I have to save them. It's my fault. ...my fault..."

"It's not your fault, Shepard. I told you. They've been drugging you for who knows how long."

"So?"

"So?... So they manipulated you, Shepard!"

Shepard shook her head again. "They can't control your mind... that's impossible. I did what I did, Miri. I accept responsibility. Now let me fix things."

"You're not thinking clearly," Miranda explained. "You'll understand once you've rested."

"...no, you... can't... can't do it... alone..."

"Shepard, you're in no condition for a fight. You can't even walk on your own."

"I can walk," Shepard assured her and tried crawling off the gurney. Miranda blocked her path and wrapped her hands in her own. "I can do it," Shepard protested, pulling free and swinging her legs off the side. "I'm... Commander Shepard, in case you forgot," the commander said with a grin and a wink of her eye. The grin faded fast though and she grimaced and grabbed at her stomach.

Miranda got a waste bin to her just in time for Shepard to lean in to it. "You're too sick."

Shepard swiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. "No... not sick... come on." She set the basket aside and scooted off the gurney's edge. She landed, wobbled, but stayed on her feet. "See?" She took a shaky step forward and began leaning too far to one side.

Miranda jolted forward and caught her just as she was about to fall. Shepard's arm draped over her shoulder and the commander steadied herself. Miranda sighed; the only way she was going to stop the woman was strapping her down to the bloody gurney, but the though of Shepard in any more restraints made her feel nauseous herself, and so she nodded. "Alright, Shepard. If you absolutely have to come with me... can you still aim a gun?"

Shepard nodded and Miranda stuck the Carnifex in her hand. "Jesus, you've got... a god-damn hand cannon here... Miri," she said with a short laugh.

"If we run into trouble, let me deal with it," Miranda told her, tapping the baton at her hip. "The gun is our backup. I've disposed of a few of the volus already, but who knows how many more are out there."

Shepard stared at her for awhile then, a little smile at the corner of her busted, swollen, lips. "Yes, ma'am," she said with a nod. "You're the boss. And... thanks, Miranda. For, well, everything. I'm proud of you."

Miranda smiled, nodded, and took her former commander's arm over her shoulder. Shepard would likely never know how much those words had meant to her.

They headed out into the ship to face the unknown.

And to save their friends.