Shepard's hands itched to kill the last of the five guards they'd incapacitated. Another batarian, and on his chestpiece was etched a series of lines—one for each colony he'd raided. She'd seen it on other slavers. This one had eighteen. Eighteen times he'd taken people away from their loved ones. She wanted to give her biotics a real workout on that particular slaver.
The last heat signature was up ahead, inside one of the many rooms on the upper floor. The leader seemed to be sitting at a desk, unaware that the guards were all down.
"They're facing the door. We won't be able to sneak up on them," said James.
"Good," she said, gripping her pistol tighter as she walked away from the last guard. "I'm done sneaking. I want to start shooting."
Her translator picked up James's cursing as she left him to take the stairs up two at a time. She didn't bother to wait for him as she kicked open the door. Two turrets turned to face her. James barrelled into her as the rounds ripped through the open doorway. She landed with a choked sound as James's bulk knocked the wind out of her.
She could hear rounds peppering the wall inside the room, but the concrete was too thick for it to penetrate. James rolled off her and sat up. He hissed and fell back to the ground. Shepard sat up and instantly saw the ragged hole in his side. Blood pulsed from it, darkening the underarmour.
"What the hell happened?" she asked, pulling out her emergency supply of medigel from the medipack strapped to her leg.
"You know what shields don't like? Goddamn turret rounds," he said through clenched teeth. He snatched the medigel off her and shooed her away. "You've got turrets to take care of. I'll be fine. It's not that bad."
Shepard stared at him, trying to see if he was lying, and he pushed her shoulder. She sighed and picked up his shotgun. He dug in a pocket and dropped a few carnage rounds into her hand. The turrets had stopped firing. She loaded a carnage round as she stood beside the doorway, back pressed to the wall. Poking her head out, she fired the carnage shot and threw a warp field. The turrets started firing again, but she could hear one of them wasn't firing as fast anymore.
She loaded another carnage round and primed another warp. The first turret blew up. Two more of the combination and the other turret blew up. Shepard tossed the shotgun to the ground, ignoring James's yell for her to be careful with it, and pulled out her pistol. Her barrier glowed across her body, dark blue over the light of her shields.
As she stepped into the room, she surveyed the damage. Scorches marked the ground where the turrets had stood. Metal shards were scattered across the floor. The wooden desk she'd glimpsed had metal bits embedded into it. Half of the old fluorescent light bulbs in the ceiling had blown; the other half were either flickering or only lighting up the far corners. Behind the desk, four monitors were attached to the wall. Only one was still working, but its black-and-white image showed one of the incapacitated guards. The leader already knew they were here. That would explain the turrets.
A slide of a boot, and Shepard turned. She hurled a throw field and a batarian behind her went flying. They slammed into a wall so hard they bounced off it before falling to the floor. Shepard hauled the dazed batarian to their knees. In the flickering light, she saw it was a female, and not one of the ones they'd already knocked out. This one had no armour, just a suit.
The muzzle of Shepard's pistol pressed into the batarian's head, right between the higher pair of eyes. The batarian looked up at her hazily. Shepard's hand was unwavering.
"Give me a reason not to pull this trigger."
The batarian snorted and shook her head.
"Why?" Shepard's breathing was slow and deep as she tried to control her anger and to keep her senses alert for any sign of deception from the docile batarian. "Why did you use my cousin? Why try to kill me?"
Silence filled the space between them. The batarian tilted her head to the right, a batarian insult that even Shepard knew. Her eyes narrowed and she pressed the gun into the batarian's forehead.
"For my children and my husband on Arahtot," spat the batarian.
Shepard's insides clenched. The pressure of the gun against the batarian's head eased. Shepard wanted to turn and walk away, but she knew better than to turn her back on a batarian.
"I tried to warn the–"
"You did not!" The batarian bared her needle-like teeth. "Project Base, Object Rho, 157-Golgotha—I know everything. The Alliance was in our system for months. You did nothing. You destroyed my colony. There is a price on your head. The Hegemony wants war. All I want is to tear your eyes out. Your soul will never enter the afterlife."
The batarian fell silent as Shepard wondered what to do with her. She still wanted to kill the batarian, but she knew what the batarian was feeling. She never imagined that she would feel empathy for a batarian, let alone the one who had forced the last of her family to try to assassinate her.
"Your cousin was ten when I bought him. He was smart, but never smart enough. Children will believe anything you tell them. He was too scared of the chip in his head. Too scared to run, too scared to ask for help." The batarian smiled, a cruel twist of her lips. Shepard's jaw clenched so tight her teeth almost broke against each other. "There are no chips for sleeper agents."
Shepard slammed her pistol against the batarian's cheek. The batarian collapsed to the floor, bleeding from her mouth.
"Liar." Shepard dropped atop the batarian, her knees on either side of the batarian's shoulders. Her biotics glowed across her body as she rammed her gun against the batarian's temple. "All slaves have chips in their heads. I've saved enough to know."
The batarian spat blood from her mouth before laughing. "It'd be stupid to have that chip in someone who's always scanned."
Shepard swallowed the bile in her throat. Aaron had been convinced that if Shepard didn't kill him, the chip in his head would. If he only knew there was no chip, she might have saved him. He might have saved himself.
She couldn't help imagining what it would have been like to watch Aaron grow up. He would have excelled at school, gone to some prestigious university, become a scientist. Maybe he'd have met a woman who deserved him; maybe they'd even now be planning their wedding. Eventually, Shepard would have become an aunt, and she could have showered her niece or nephew in presents from all over the galaxy.
"Shepard."
James's voice dissipated the smoke of her imaginings. Shepard's pistol shook and she shoved it harder against the batarian, forcing her to turn her head to the side.
"If you kill her like this, it's murder. You're not a murderer, Shepard." James's boots hobbled into her vision and stopped next to the batarian's head. They were smattered in blood from his gunshot wound.
"It'll be worth it," she said through clenched teeth.
"You asked why use your krakha cousin," said the batarian, looking at Shepard out of the corner of her eyes. "At first, I didn't know who he really was. He slipped up. He told another slave while in my medbay. My slaves are loyal."
"Callete." Shepard could barely hear James's order to shut up over the thumping in her ears.
"You're a soldier. I'm not. I knew I might not cut out your eyes." The batarian's voice dropped into a growling hiss. "So I will do worse than just kill you, Shepard—I will destroy you."
Shepard's biotics flared brighter. The build-up of unreleased energy burned but the pain paled in comparison to what she felt inside. She didn't want to shoot the batarian. That would be too quick. She wanted to pound her fists into the batarian's face, rip her limbs from their sockets, paint the walls with batarian blood. She would rip the eyes from the batarian's head and wear them as trophies.
"She's baiting you." Shepard wanted to look away from the smug face of the batarian, wanted to look up at James as he spoke, but she couldn't. "You're not destroyed, but if you kill her, you will be. You'll get locked up. If you ever get out, the Alliance won't take you back. Aaron will be remembered as just another assassin, if he's remembered at all. You prove that you're not as strong as Aaron believed–"
"He gave me this intel so I could kill her!"
"He never asked you to kill her." How could James sound so calm? "He just gave you the intel. It was always your choice what you did with it."
She'd dived into the sinkhole of vengeance before, but she'd found that it was no more noble than simple revenge. It'd twisted her soul, blackened her heart, haunted her dreams. Vengeance had given her nothing but more despair, and she'd since stopped anyone else from exacting that price. She'd stopped Miranda from killing Niket. Garrus from killing Sidonis. Jack from killing Aresh. Mordin from killing Maelon. Not that that had saved some of the traitors, but she liked to think that it had saved her friends.
When Shepard didn't respond, James continued in his soothing tone, "I didn't know your cousin, but he could have killed me a bunch of times and he didn't. I think in the end he was still a good kid. I think he'd want you to do the right thing; want you to continue living free, like he never could."
She would never know what Aaron wanted, but she knew what she wanted. She stood on the precipice of the yawning sinkhole, staring down into the darkness of vengeance. Would it would be worth it again? It wouldn't bring anyone back to life. She already knew it wouldn't make her feel better—not for very long anyway.
Shepard took a shaky breath and let her biotics dissipate. A teardrop fell onto her pistol, leaving a shiny trail as it tracked its way down the barrel. She blinked. She hadn't realised she was crying.
The batarian bared her teeth and snarled a string of insults when Shepard stood and put her pistol away. Shepard's fists glowed blue as she dragged the batarian up by her clothes and hurled her against the wall. Shepard was on the batarian before she could sag to the ground. She pinned her to the wall with an armoured arm to her throat.
"Don't mistake this for mercy." She leaned in close and, for the first time, saw true fear in the batarian's eyes. "For every year that my cousin suffered, I'll make sure you suffer ten."