Hannah groaned aloud as pain rippled along her right side. Her eyes were shut tight, as if they didn't want to open for fear of the horrors they might see. A sudden shiver caused goosebumps to rise on her arms. She felt uncomfortably cold and her back ached. She wanted to curl up into a ball, but as she tried to move, stinging spasms coursed through her body. She moaned and lay still.

"Captain?" she heard a stilted, timid voice. "Captain?"

Hannah felt she should open her eyes, answer the voice, that she knew it from somewhere, but she didn't think she was ready to deal with her surroundings.

"Captain? Can you hear me?"

Hannah sucked in a rattling breath, then worked to open her eyes. Slowly, light filtered in. She blinked rapidly, the brightness painful. She kept her eyes half-open, letting them become accustomed to sight again. After a while, she discovered that, in fact, the light around her wasn't bright at all, but dim. Where was she? The ceiling was constructed of dark gray metal. She hadn't expected a Reaper ship to look so…normal. Jane had described something entirely different.

"Captain Shepard?"

Hannah now felt a hand on her arm. That voice, she knew it…soft, quiet, French accent…Jillian Toureau.

"Toureau?" Hannah heard her own voice come out strained and hoarse and it felt like she hadn't used her face muscles in years.

A sigh of relief responded to her question. "Yes, ma'am. It's me."

Hannah tried to roll over onto her side, but gasped in agony.

"Don't move. You're really hurt."

A face appeared above Hannah. She recognized her communications officer, though she had a bandage over the left side of her face. The young woman didn't smile, just stared down at her, face contorted in worry.

"Where are we?" Hannah asked.

Toureau's eyebrows creased. "I'm not sure."

"Reaper ship?"

"No, I don't think so. There are humans running this ship."

"Indoctrinated?"

"Uh…"

Hannah recalled that most of the galaxy hadn't believed in the Reapers at all. "The Reapers can bend people to their will."

"Oh…I don't know if they are or not, then." There was a pause, then an almost inaudible whisper. "Your daughter was right all along."

Hannah almost laughed at the fact that someone besides Steven and Anderson was admitting that to her. They knew Jane was right when it was too late. "Yes, she was." But I always knew that.

"Where's the crew?" Hannah asked.

There was a gulp and a tear fell from Toureau's uncovered eye. She raised a hand and wiped it away. "I don't know. I think we may be the only survivors."

Hannah closed her eyes. She'd had over five hundred people on board the Orizaba. Had they really lost all but two? She wouldn't have believed it if she herself hadn't seen the power of the Reapers. She assumed the Alliance fleets had been utterly decimated. She pushed away thoughts of mourning. This wasn't the time.

"How badly am I hurt?"

"Your right arm and leg are broken. They set those. You screamed a lot then. They sedated you. They've tried to bring you out a couple times, but you screamed each time." Toureau's voice shook as she spoke.

So that's why I hurt so much. Whoever these people were had tried to heal her. They couldn't be indoctrinated then, could they?

"How long have we been here?"

"I don't know. A few weeks? Maybe a month?" Hannah heard the despair in Toureau's reply. All hope had been lost for the girl. But Hannah herself hadn't given in, not yet.

"We can get out, Lieutenant."

Hannah heard a sob. "There's no escape. They said that to me when they brought us here."

"Brought us from where?"

"There was another ship that picked us up first, then this one."

"Help me sit up."

"Captain, you can't."

"I'm ordering you, Lieutenant."

"Yes, ma'am."

Hannah felt a hand slide under her back, then she began to rise. She grit her teeth against the sharp pain that assaulted her right side, protesting at her action. Toureau gazed at her with compassionate green eyes. Hannah leaned her back against a wall. Now she could get a good look at the room they were in. Subdued lighting along the walls covered the room in a blue glow. It was small, tiny really, about the size of a walk-in closet. Except for a couple of pallets for sleeping, it was also empty. Hannah turned her focus from the room to herself, assessing her physical state. Her right arm and right leg were both incapacitated, braces around each. Her enviro suit had been replaced by a set of clothes, pants and shirt, too big for her frame. She tried to move again, but her limbs were excessively weak. She couldn't raise her left arm more than a couple inches. She considered Toureau next. The young woman's face was bruised and her feet bound together with some kind of restraint. Her eyes reflected deep depression.

Hannah forced her left hand out with all her will, ignoring the protest of her muscles and patted the girl's arm with her fingertips. "We'll get out."

Toureau just shook her head. Hannah grimaced. Did she really think they would get out of wherever they were? How could she make an escape with a broken arm and leg? She realized her pathetic attempt to encourage Toureau was a defensive mechanism to keep her own panic at bay.

"How hurt are you?" Hannah asked, concerned for the girl, but also wanting to avoid thoughts of despair.

Toureau brought her hand up to her bandage, gently rubbing it. "I haven't seen it. The doctor used the phrase 'mincemeat.' I've had a headache almost every day."

Hannah frowned. "Didn't you put your helmet on? How were you wounded?"

Toureau shrugged. "I don't remember much after the Orizaba fell apart. I just know I woke up on another ship and you were there, too."

Hannah noticed the girl's dark hair had been shaved short. She'd always thought Toureau a beautiful woman with her sparkling green eyes and raven black hair. "Why did they cut your hair?"

"To clean me up, bandage my head and face." The girl's left eye teared up. "I don't think I want to even be alive, not when they all died." She gasped and more tears came.

Hannah attempted to squeeze Toureau's arm, but the result was more a fumbled slide across her skin. "Don't go there, Lieutenant. It won't help you to think like that."

Toureau nodded, but sucked in her lips and covered her face with her hands. If they did get out of wherever they were alive, the girl would need a therapist for sure.

There was a sudden creak, the sound of footsteps outside the room. Toureau's head snapped to the door. "They're coming." She moved next to Hannah, huddling against her as if to hide. "They came in to wake you up and left. Said someone wanted to see us."

Hannah fixed her eyes on the door. Was this a time to escape? Her mind was sharp, but her body wasted. If she could only have stood up, raised her fists, ready to take down whoever came through the door. She'd never felt so powerless.

When the door slid open, a man stepped in, large, scruffy, with big bushy eyebrows. He scanned the prisoners at the end of the room, then nodded, satisfied. He turned his head, speaking to someone outside the door. "She's awake. Mind you, they're still in bad shape right now."

"I want to see them," a staccato voice spoke.

"Go ahead."

A salarian stepped through the door, his gaze critical as he ran them up and down with his eyes. He was dressed smartly in a blue suit with green glittering trim. He held a data pad in his hand. As he walked over to them, Hannah felt Toureau press into her in fear. Hannah forced her left arm around the girl's waist, hoping to comfort and reassure her. The salarian crouched down in front of them. Now that Hannah saw him up close, she felt he was slightly familiar, but she couldn't place him. All salarians looked pretty much the same to her. He reached out and took Toureau's chin in his hand, lifting it upwards to observe her face.

"How badly is this one injured?"

The big man laughed. "You won't want her around you when her face is uncovered, but she can do other things, can't she?"

"Hum…" the salarian intoned.

He moved his attention to Hannah, now taking her chin and turning her face back and forth. Hannah thought angrily that if she had the use of her limbs, he'd have found a fist in his eye. He glanced at her braces. "Broken arm and leg. How good is your medical?"

"Good," the large man barked out gruffly. "She'll heal okay."

The salarian stood and walked back to the man. "Your ad said Alliance. Are you sure?"

The big man folded his arms over his chest. "Of course."

The salarian glanced back at Hannah and Toureau, then turned to the man. "8,000 for both."

The man laughed loudly. "They're Alliance. Well trained."

"But broken," the salarian argued. "What if we take them and find them inadequate?"

"Even then, they've got their uses. You can sell them back to their families, make a profit."

"Perhaps," the salarian conceded. "But in these times, their families may not be available."

"16,000," the man said.

The salarian rubbed his chin. "You can't keep them long. You know the Alliance will find out, come after you, don't you?"

The man glowered at the salarian, but stood to his full height. "16,000 or nothing."

The salarian sighed. "Too rich for my boss." He made to leave, but the man suddenly grabbed his arm.

"12,000, then. Okay? It's as low as I can go, I swear."

The salarian turned back, a grin on his face. "12,000 is acceptable. My men will collect them."

"That's not the way it works," the man ground out. "My men will bring them to your shuttle, after the payment's gone through, got it?"

The salarian raised his hand, acquiescing. "Fine." He followed the man out of the room and the door slid shut.

Hannah let out a shaky breath. "Well, at least we know where we are now. We're on a slave ship." Toureau laid her head on Hannah's shoulder and silently cried.

Less than an hour later, the door opened again. Hannah had spent the time vainly envisioning ways of escape. The problem was every idea involved full use of her body. She didn't want to admit that she was utterly helpless, at the mercy of whoever had decided to buy Alliance captives from the slavers. Hannah had heard stories of what happened to slaves, lives of debasement and torture. Strangely, she wasn't afraid. She'd decided she'd rather end up a slave than a Reaper husk any day. At least as a slave, she'd have a chance to fight back, make a break for it when she healed and regained her strength.

Two men entered the room, unsavory, gruff types, both imposing in their size. One of them pulled Toureau to her feet, throwing her over his shoulder like nothing but a sack of potatoes. The other gripped Hannah's left arm and helped her to stand. He was more careful with her than his companion had been with Toureau, Hannah guessed because he didn't want to damage the merchandise further. Hannah clenched her teeth against the pain. The man picked her up into his arms like a child. They walked out the door and down the hall. It wasn't far to the hangar. When they entered, Hannah saw the large man who had bargained for their sale and the salarian standing next to a shuttle of rather impressive size.

"They're all yours," the man said.

The salarian nodded and peeked inside the shuttle. "Come get them, boys."

Two men emerged from the shuttle. Hannah stifled a gasp. One of them was a young man in armor with a tattoo on his neck, a red scythe. The young man took Toureau, paying no attention to Hannah. Maybe he doesn't recognize me, Hannah thought. The other man, a big, blonde, brawny man carried Hannah into the shuttle. When they got inside, they set their charges down next to each other on a leather seat. Hannah took Toureau's hand. The girl was trembling. She looked to Hannah who smiled encouragingly. The salarian had entered the shuttle and pushed a panel to close the door.

"Remove the girl's restraints, Thad," the salarian ordered.

The young man with the scythe tattoo moved over to Toureau, his omni-tool flipped on. The restraints on her feet opened immediately. He threw them to the side.

"You don't recognize me?" he asked, turning his eyes on Hannah.

Hannah swallowed. "I do."

The young man held out his hand. Hannah looked down at her right arm.

"Oh, yeah," the young man said, now laughing nervously. "Just wanted to shake the hand of Shepard's mom. Sorry, I forgot."

"Wait," Hannah said, her mind connecting the dots. She looked to the salarian. "Is this your personal shuttle?"

The salarian grinned. The engine had started and Hannah felt the shuttle lift and glide out of the hangar, taking to space. "Spent years collecting the credits for it."

The shuttle was luxurious, overly so. Hannah remembered seeing a photo two years ago in an apartment just as lavish, a photo of a grinning salarian surrounded by asari maidens. "Jeparn," she said.

"At your service," the salarian replied.

Hannah only knew one way to connect the young man, Thad, and Jeparn to each other. "Is Keta behind this?"

"Who else?" a new voice entered the conversation. The sound stirred a multitude of emotions inside Hannah, twisting her heart and gut at the same time.

"Commander!" Toureau called out, her voice registering total surprise.

Hannah just stared, not knowing if she should smile or frown or cry.

"Hey, Red," Lucas said, smiling grimly at her, standing with his hands on his hips. "Welcome back to the land of the living…as long as it lasts anyway."

Lucas instructed Thad to take Toureau to the medical lab on board Jeparn's ridiculously equipped shuttle and get Groom, the blonde haired man that had carried Hannah, to check her out. He'd explained Groom dabbled in medical practices on the side. Once they left, Lucas coughed and hinted to Jeparn that his pilot could use some company. Jeparn excused himself at once, nodding to Lucas as he left. Lucas stared at Hannah. She tried to read his thoughts—his emotions were obvious: chagrin, embarrassment, awkwardness. He finally walked over and sat down next to her, not looking at her.

"I need to start by apologizing," he said quietly. "You were right. You and Jane. The galaxy's in a mess cause of those things. I can't believe I was so stupid."

Hannah contemplated her former friend. On the one hand, he was the best thing she could have seen at the moment so glad was she he'd come to her rescue. On the other hand, her heart had gone awfully cold towards him over the last few months.

"Tell me what's happened," Hannah said, choosing to avoid personal conversation.

Lucas looked up, clearly hurt she'd brushed off his apology, but answered her question. "Communication has ceased for dozens of systems. Stations have been overrun. Arcturus is gone, the parliament killed. Hundreds of thousands dead."

Hannah had to work to catch her breath. How many people she had known had been murdered by the Reapers? "Where are the fleets?" she whispered.

Lucas shrugged. "Hiding somewhere. Maybe regrouping. Their location's a well-guarded secret at this point."

"My ship?"

Lucas bit his lip. "We went by the debris. Lots of bodies. I think you and Jillian are the only ones who made it out alive." Lucas rubbed his goatee. "If I'd been there…"

Hannah snorted derisively. "You wouldn't have made a difference. It was like shooting fish in a barrel for the Reapers. We were nothing but an annoying distraction."

Lucas breathed out slowly. "They went right for Earth. Troops are fighting on the ground there, but losing hope by the hour."

Hannah sat up straighter, groaning at the movement. Lucas reached out a hand to her and she pushed it away. "Jane…"

"We've heard rumors," Lucas said, drawing his hand away from her, saying nothing about her rejection of his attempt to aid her. "She made it out. From what I gather, she's trying to get any help she can for Earth."

Hannah leaned back, closing her eyes. She couldn't deal with the information, all the horror at once. At least she could take comfort that Jane was okay for now.

"Hannah," Lucas said seriously, "I really am sorry. I was an idiot, more than an idiot, a regular old jack-ass. I treated our friendship like nothing. I know you probably hate me, but give me a chance. I need you to forgive me."

"You didn't e-mail me," Hannah said, an indictment on his insistence he was truly sorry.

"Yeah, well…I've been busy…Well, not exactly. I didn't know what to say, how to say it. I'm a coward, I really am. I just couldn't get anything into words until I saw you."

Hannah opened her eyes to behold Lucas' pleading face. She couldn't forgive him, not yet. "I'm not ready to give you a pass. I don't know if I'll ever be ready."

Lucas sighed, but nodded. "Alright, I understand. I'll show you, though, that I mean it, that you can trust me."

Hannah stared unflinchingly at him. Only time would tell if she could, indeed, place her trust in Lucas' hands again.

"In the meantime," Lucas went on, "We need to get you seen by our doctor."

"Groom?"

"He's just a fill-in right now. Our trained doc is back on the Menari. You'll like her." His eyes twinkled and Hannah wondered why.

"Menari?"

"Keta's ship."

"She has a ship?"

Lucas grinned. "You'll be impressed. It's not a dreadnought, but larger than you'd think."

"I thought she wanted to get a tan on a beach for her retirement."

Lucas laughed. "I don't think Keta could ever sit still for long. She always has to be doing something. She used almost all her funds to get that ship."

"How can she pay for slaves then?"

"Uh…she's kind of shaken down some people that owe her."

Hannah shook her head. That sounded like Keta. Not that she wasn't grateful the batarian had done what she had to to rescue her. "Is Jeparn one of those?"

Lucas shook his head. "Jeparn joined when Omega went down."

"Omega?"

"You remember the Cerberus attack on the station?"

"Barely." She'd had other concerns on her mind then.

"Well, Jeparn got out then, met up with Keta at some point and she convinced him to join her."

"So what are you?" Hannah asked. "Pirates?" She gave Lucas a disapproving look.

Lucas ran a hand through his hair. "Not really. More like merchants…with a willingness to do a few illegal things now and then."

Hannah shook her head again.

"Look, you don't get it," Lucas explained. "It's hell out there now, every man for himself. Keta's got connections, she's gathered people to her that matter, that have the resources that might get us through this mess."

Hannah sighed. What did she expect to happen when the galaxy fell into the chaos of total destruction? Of course, everyone would be focused on basic survival. Some would even take advantage of the turmoil to line their own pockets, like the slavers she'd just escaped. The Reapers were apparently destroying the galaxy, but did they care? No, they saw the attacks as an opportunity to make some easy money. War brought out the best and the worst in the hearts of sentient beings.

Lucas stood up. "I don't want to argue with you. Please, though, when we get to the Menari, just suck it up and thank Keta, okay? The minute she saw your face on an advertisement for slaves, she jumped at it, gathering all the credits she could, so the least you can do is appreciate it." Lucas turned and stomped back towards the cockpit before Hannah could respond.

Hannah twisted her lips. Here she'd been grumpily and begrudgingly conversing with Lucas when she should have been thanking him. But for some reason, saying the words "thank you" to Lucas didn't feel right.

After a while, Thad brought Toureau back to sit with Hannah. The girl was slightly happier, relieved they were in the hands of friends. She still complained of a headache, but Groom had given her some medicine to relieve it. She sat close to Hannah and spoke little. Hannah tried to talk with her about her family, but only managed to learn that her father had lived on Arcturus, her mother on Earth. Of course, she had no idea if they were alive. Hannah wondered how many families had been destroyed already by the Reapers. Maybe millions.

Thad declared he had no family, an advantage in his opinion, adding his own two bits to the conversation. He did worry about friends back on Earth, though. He'd grown up in a gang there, the Scythes, thus his tattoo. He'd left when he was seventeen, wanting to see the galaxy, making his way from station to station by working odd jobs here and there. That's how he'd connected with Keta when she hired him for a job—breaking Lucas out of Alliance custody. He seemed to admire Keta tremendously.

"What about Kirk?" Hannah wondered aloud.

Thad let out a short, dismissive breath. "Him. He's out there with his krogan crew somewhere. Boss thought he was too hot to handle. Made him leave after we rescued Lucas."

Lucas came back not long after their conversation, letting them know they'd be at the Menari in a few minutes. Hannah felt the bumpy change as the shuttle landed in a hangar bay. Keta's ship had to be large if it had a bay. When the door opened, Thad aided Toureau off the shuttle. Lucas frowned down at Hannah. "Whether you like it or not, I'm carrying you out of here."

Hannah nodded once, trying to be polite at the least. When Lucas picked her up, his face grew concerned. "What?" Hannah asked.

"Nothing."

"Tell me."

"You need to eat. You must be skin and bones."

Hannah hadn't considered what weeks without food had done to her. Now she looked down at her arm and noticed how thin she was. Lucas carried her off the shuttle, then down a few halls, passing various aliens and a few humans in the process. They finally entered what was obviously a medical lab, too sterile and clean to be anything else.

"Doc," Lucas called out to a woman at the far end of the room. "I have someone you need to look at."

The woman turned. She had kind dark eyes and beautiful brown skin. She smiled and then saluted.

Hannah's eyes went wide. "Riley?"

"The salute felt right."

"How…"

"Lucas called me up. Asked me to join."

"The Alliance…"

"I left a long time ago. I couldn't take the red tape anymore."

Hannah looked up at Lucas. "You could have said something."

"And ruin the surprise?" he smiled mischievously. Hannah couldn't help but chuckle, just a little.

Lucas set Hannah down on a bed. Hannah looked from Riley to Lucas. "Is Brody going to show up?"

Riley shook her head, her eyes registering sorrow. "He died during the First Contact War."

"Oh." Hannah sadly remembered the young man, all eager for her to win the marksman rifle match with Daniel.

Riley checked over the braces on Hannah's right arm and leg. "These look secure. I need to scan you. See how you're healing." She pulled a small device out of her pocket and ran it over Hannah's right side.

"I didn't know you wanted to be a doctor."

Riley smiled. "Change of scenery. I got tired of shooting things, thought I'd try my hand at healing for a while." Her eyebrows knit together. "Did they give you any pain meds?"

Hannah shook her head. "I don't think so. It hurts still."

Riley began muttering angrily under her breath. She traipsed over to a cabinet, then came back with a shot. "I can't believe you've endured it. You've got multiple breaks and there's inflammation all around the wounds. You've atrophied quite a bit, too. And the braces are old school. I want to replace them. I'm going to put you under for a little while."

"Hang on a moment, Riley," Hannah heard a commanding voice, a batarian's she knew quite well.

Lucas turned. Hannah couldn't see Keta as Lucas blocked her view. He reached out a hand and pulled the batarian close to him, next to the bed. Hannah finally beheld Keta, her face little changed, same intense four eyed gaze, same scar. What had changed was her abdomen, now bulging outward in a tight round ball.

"Keta, you're pregnant?"

Lucas beamed. "Four months to go. Now you know why she wants to evade the Reapers. She's got some motivation."

Keta punched Lucas in the arm. "So do you." She looked to Hannah, a relieved smile on her face. "Welcome to your new home."