REQUIEM

CHAPTER EIGHT:

THE FIRE BREATHER

August 13, 2251

1200 hours.

Rear of Ship, Rachni Cruiser, Entering Orbit over Trebin, Antaeus System, Hades Gamma Cluster.

Warlord Urdnot Mordin, Corporal Sheila'Piae pav Feros, Jupiter.

The rachni cruiser was eerily quiet; the chitinous sounds of rachni milling about or communicating seemingly absent behind the sound-proof bulkheads of the colossal warship. Much like the design of ancient Collector cruisers, the ship was organic in design and architecture, with organic growths sprouting from the walls and unknown substances holding the lights up and support struts, as well as the bulkheads themselves. It was an efficient design.

The large krogan fiddled with his plasma shotgun and squared his shoulders, sighing as he looked back up to look at the corporal laying on the medical bed provided by the rachni. The quarian female lay there completely still, unmoving in her slumber. She had fallen asleep as soon as they arrived on the cruiser, and had entered a sort of coma. How long it would last, he didn't know. Jupiter stood guard at the door, the geth still capable of just standing there and doing nothing, looking blankly at the wall with the same, piercing stare, watching over Sheila like a bodyguard; the last of his unit.

Sheila had lost a leg in the battle and the rachni workers had done their best to fix her up, but they needed to reach Trebin soon so they could sample her DNA, so they could clone a new leg for her. The Battle on Gellix had been lost; the Dominion listening post overrun, but it still baffled Mordin how the Covenant were able to know where the Dominion was, or that they were even there.

As the cruiser had descended, Mordin had watched from the battlestations as the two space stations in orbit of Gellix had collapsed into the planet's atmosphere in a ball of flame and debris, taking countless hundreds with it into death's grip. Mordin wasn't Dominion anymore however, but he wasn't Covenant either, or Sanctum. I'm whatever the rachni need me to be. He missed his father, who was most likely on Tuchanka unaware that his son was alive, but he had a job to do here, and if he poked his head again, Prometheus would do anything in their power to silence him. They tried that on Trebin, Carter tried, but the rachni saved me. He thinks me dead, and I will eventually prove him wrong, but I have to keep my head low for now.

But this entire attack had Prometheus all over it. How else could the Covenant know about the Gellix operation without insider info? Yes, Prometheus must have informed them; maybe someone in the Dominion expedition force was an agent for the Covenant, he didn't know. But what he did know, is that Sheila and Jupiter were the only survivors. Everyone else was dead; killed in the Covenant counterattack.

The Dominion has the manpower; the Covenant couldn't hope to repel a united assault by the quarian, human, rachni, drell, geth and krogan militaries, especially not in their rogue state. A single assault would allow them to crush any Covenant resistance and push through to Titan, where they can easily finish the job. The Covenant has harassed us for far too long, so why not just attack?

Once again, it had Prometheus all over it. Those pyjaks were in deep, and he wanted to know what they were up to. Carter had lured Caesar and himself there with the objective of securing Reaper tech, when in retrospect, they were there for a mysterious figure. Once Carter had what he wanted, he betrayed them, killed Caesar and would have killed Mordin if not for the timely arrival of a rachni horde. Carter most likely escaped, along with his captive. Who was that mysterious person? Something just didn't seem right about him.

A voice entered his head. You do not rest easy, youngling. Your songs are clouded and troubled.

Mordin nodded, responding in thoughts, I was betrayed by Prometheus, yet I just saved two Dominion marines when I should have left them for dead. Why?

The rachni's response was quick and tactful, the Dominion sing troubled songs, but Prometheus are dark...treacherous...their songs are colored in lies. Blame not the Dominion youngling, blame those who pull their strings from the shadows.

Mordin nodded, backing up against the wall and inhaling deeply, entering another bored position. He had been like that for most of the trip; three days, to be exact. They could have reached Trebin alot quicker, but the rachni always had to be subtle when travelling between Covenant, Dominion and Sanctum space, careful not to provoke conflict. They had passed by Feros, Sheila's home planet and through the Artemis Tau Cluster, where they finally landed in the Hades Gamma cluster, and Trebin, the new rachni homeworld.

Mordin had always followed the krogan doctrine of being a warrior. His father had encouraged him and his many brothers to do so; and they had done so proudly, knowing their heritage. They were the sons of the great Urdnot Wrex, so why not become warriors and one day become like their father? Their mother, Urdnot Bakara, had encouraged them to do so, and with her blessing and their rites completed, they set off to join the krogan marines. Mordin didn't know if it was a mistake or not.

If not for Wrex, I might not have learned that Prometheus was yanking us around. Maybe its my duty to make sure the Dominion doesn't stumble into the black hole that Prometheus has set up. Maybe its my duty to make sure Prometheus is destroyed; yes, if that is my duty, then I will start with Carter Dielheart. I will kill that pyjak because my blood demands it for being betrayed by such scum. Then I will find their leader myself and cut her head off and have it hung over the Partheon on Tuchanka.

He sighed as old memories came to mind; when he had joined the krogan marines, Wrex had made sure they got the best training they could get, and since his father's foremost battle-brother was dead, Battlelord Urdnot Grunt trained them, and he was a powerful krogan indeed. Grunt had trained them into the krogan they were now, and if Mordin hadn't already been crippled by Carter, he would have beaten the fleshy human to death on the spot.

And maybe Caesar would still be alive; but that's inconsequential. He was just some secretary for the Praetor, anyway. Politician's pet. The memories died away as the rachni worker entered his mind again.

You are needed youngling; her songs sing of the queen's need for your presence. We will be landing soon; be prepared to see her. Mordin nodded, not even responding as he moved to leave the room, shotgun still firmly placed in his hands. He moved past Jupiter and nodded at the geth, quickly hitting the door interface panel and moving into the ship's corridor, marching down towards the rachni cruiser's airlock.

Can't believe I spent so much time trapped on Trebin; but I guess I did have to remain hidden from Prometheus' sight. Besides, the rachni were planning something, I know they were. All those plans, their step up in ship production and how fast they were working to breed as many queens as possible...they're either gearing up for war, or their planning to repel an enemy assault. I don't like where its headed, but if the queen needs me to lead the vanguard, I will do so gladly. And if they send their fleet to invade Tuchanka? They won't. The krogan have not harmed the rachni for decades. It would be foolish and unnecessary.

And if they did? Well, he would kill the queen and escape to Tuchanka to warn them; he would never betray his people, his brothers and sisters...his mother and father. Grunt. He would never betray any of them. Only over his dead corpse, and by then I am useless.

He squeezed his way past two brood warriors, and continued making his way towards the airlock. The simplicity of rachni vessel design made it so that reaching certain areas seemed alot faster than it was, and within the space of what felt to be two minutes, he was at the airlock, moving through it and waiting for the ship to land. By the time he reached the airlock, the cruiser was already moving through Trebin's last layer of atmosphere.

In the space of no time, the cruiser had landed and the airlock hissed as air was released and the space outside was equalized within the ship. It opened in an instant and when Mordin stepped outside he was surprised to be...wet. He looked up, and saw that Trebin's skies were pitch black and water poured down on him in thick sheets. Trebin, a world occupied by sandstorms, was raining. Atmospheric alteration? Is that even possible? Were the Reapers even capable of such feats, or is this our own technology at work?

Mordin looked back down and continued out of the cruiser, marvelling at the sheer size of the rachni capital city, or rather, the rachni main nest. It was huge massive; a wreathing mass of eggs and organic structure reaching out of Trebin's sand covered plains and seemingly reaching for the heavens in large, thick spires. Rachni workers, soldiers, brood warriors and drones moved about en masse in swarms, crawling across the ground and walls like locusts. There was only one queen for every nest, and there were most likely hundreds of nests built around the planet already, the rachni fleet growing every day.

He approached the main nest was ease, still wondering at the rain. The rachni, again, who had somehow snuck up behind him, spoke into his mind once more. The rachni have altered this planet's atmosphere and whether conditions to suit our needs. Our songs need place to breathe and thrive; not a sand-covered ecology. In this way, we have made Trebin into a perfect world for rachni to live on.

Mordin scoffed, you altered the atmosphere? How? Is that Reaper technology?

The rachni seemed to scoff itself in response, the songless machines of death and destruction did not have use of such technology; and therefore never needed it. Maybe their creators possessed such technology; nothing is certain. But the songless machines did not possess this technology, no. This is a rachni creation. A machine to shape environments to our needs. To wipe out jungles, to stop sandstorms, to cause rain, to rise the sea level, whatever rachni need.

Mordin laughed as he moved through a swarm of the rachni workers, careful not to step on any of them as he travelled to the heart of the nest, where the queen was most likely waiting. A weapon like that is deadlier than any weapon the Dominion or the Reapers possessed. A 'weapon of mass destruction,' the humans call it.

This is not a weapon; rachni did not build it to wage war. Rachni use it to alter planetary biospheres and ecology to suit rachni's needs. However, use as weapon would be devastating. Could be used to cause sporadic tidal waves, earthquakes, even magma build up. If used to maximum potential, could even damage planetary core. Uncertain. Untested. We do not find why a humor song would be needed for this, however. Humor was never intended.

Mordin shrugged, deciding to ignore the rachni. But it was scary that the rachni suddenly had a device to control the weather and any other planetary features. If the rachni decided it could be used as a weapon, then the Dominion would have to destroy them before they could use such a weapon on Earth, Rannoch, Kahje or, dare Mordin think it, Tuchanka itself. I won't allow that to happen.

The descent into the nest was wrought with noise, but only silence in the krogan's head, Mordin disappearing into his own thoughts. He thought of Tuchanka, his brothers and sisters, his parents...and of Grunt, the instructor he grew up with and heralded like some kind of role model. He had grown up reading about 'The Shepard' and his accomplishments, and how much he had changed in the galaxy. Shepard's name meant 'hero' in kroga, and for good reason. The Urdnot Shaman and his father used to tell him stories about how the Shepard himself, or as Wrex called him, 'Marcus', cured the genophage and saved the krogan from extinction. How he gave the quarians back Rannoch, and made them friends with the geth. So many feats, and yet the man was dead. A pity; he might have known how to defeat Prometheus.

He finally reached a cylinder like corridor that lead through the heart of the nest and into the queen's central chamber. It was just big enough to fit the queen, and not any bigger, and the queen herself was as big, if not bigger, than a corvette, and she wasn't even fully grown yet. She was surrounded by brood warriors, her praetorian guard of sorts, and her many eyes locked onto Mordin's form within an instant, beckoning him forward with a harsh screech, her song reaching his ears and penetrating his brain. Come forth. Plans have been made. Our song will reach across the stars, and your song will be the opening crescendo.

Mordin nodded and marched forward, stopping fifteen meters from the colossus of a rachni, kneeling on the ground and head bowed. Instead of speaking through thoughts, he spoke openingly, "I have brought the survivors of the Gellix assault. A quarian female and a geth platform. What will be done with them?"

The queen's response was sweet but high-pitched, They must be returned to Dominion space where their songs can continue to fight the songs of those who wish to burn theirs out; a battle of music that rachni shall not intervene. I sense that the song of the wanderer is sad, broken and pained; her song has been turned bitter, the loss of a limb troubling. We shall clone a new leg for her body, but once that is done, they must leave.

"Very well," Mordin replied immediately, dropping his shotgun on the ground as he asked his next priority question, "And what of these plans you speak of? Do these plans involve war? I saw your fleet; it grows bigger everyday, as does the rachni horde. You don't build numbers like that to populate a world, surely."

Your song depicts correctly, youngling. We are amassing for war, but not on the side of the Dominion, but on the side of the saviour. His song has ended, but we shall continue ours in sync to his to continue his legacy. He shall not be forgotten. No rachni have forgotten him or will ever forget him. His song allowed us to continue; his forgiveness allowed us to amend. To atone.

Mordin frowned. Saviour? "You mean The Shepard?"

Your people have unusual names, but we recognize this one. The Shepard, as you name his song, saved us. He is the saviour of all things. We owe our existence to his persistence. His song ended to end those of the songless machines, those of the empty songs and those of the cold songs. It is because of his forgiveness that we exist today.

Mordin snorted, it seems that everywhere this Shepard went, he was helping somebody. Quarians, Geth, Krogan, Rachni, Drell...He is worthy of his many titles. Hero of the Citadel, Slayer of Heretics, Beater of Saren Arterius, Destroyer of the Collectors, Bane of the Reapers, Benefactor of the Migrant Fleet, Protector of Synthetics, Saviour of the Galaxy, Humanity's Champion, Exterminator of the Genophage, The Forge of Alliances. The titles go on and on and on. And now Forgiver of the Rachni.

He sighed, looking back up to face the rachni, "So who am I leading these rachni to fight against?"

The primals. The ones who mistreat their own world and breed faster than even a single rachni queen could. Their lifespans are short, their lives wasted on murder, deceit and being killed. Their songs are considered an annoyance, themselves vermin. Nothing but a species to be swept aside and ignored. Yet they help those that would wish the Dominion destroyed.

Mordin looked at the queen and smiled, "The Covenant. You want to go to war with the Covenant."

No, we have already made it clear that we will not participate in the war of songs. No, we want to target a specific member of the Covenant. A race noone will notice disappear, or change allegiances.

"Who?" Mordin asked, "The batarians?"

The primals, not the slavers.

"Tilthans?"

They are known as the digitals.

"...yahg?"

They are brutes.

"Then who...?" Mordin wondered, suddenly hitting a realization. It can't be serious. It mentioned allegiance; meaning alliance. Oh no...

He gulped, "You can't mean the...the vorcha?"

The primals. They will serve us; they are simple, we can use that.

Mordin rolled his eyes, standing up, "They are vermin for good reason. I even heard that The Shepard himself didn't see much use in them except cannon fodder."

The Saviour was not perfect, and neither are the primals. But if used correctly, they can make a valuable ally, especially from inside the Covenant's territory. Their homeworld is the closest to their main nest.

"Titan?" Mordin guffawed, "You want the vorcha to attack Titan? I don't doubt you could convince them, they're a simple race, but you really think they'll have the manpower to attack the Covenant capital and survive? And you can't say you'll bolster them with rachni forces, that would be intervening."

We never said the primals would succeed in taking the head nest; only to cause discension in their song. To distract them. That, and the Covenant will cut off the primal song, destroy it, which would severely weaken their forces. In this, our song will not only have helped in weakening the structure of the Covenant, but will have removed one of its useless, but potentially powerful allies.

The krogan chuckled, looking at the rachni with dark eyes, "That's intervening queen."

If the rachni could chuckle, it would, we should have made it clearer; the rachni will not directly intervening, but that does not mean we won't secrely aid from behind...the scenes?

The krogan sighed with a smile, "Behind the scenes indeed."

Well, it looked like Urdnot Mordin was going to Ughan, the vorcha homeworld.

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August 13, 2251

1755 hours.

Rampart Hotel Suites Room 02, Tuhi District, Sanctum Civilian Zone, Alpha.

Viglante Samara, Head Scientist Daro'Xen pav Rannoch.

The asari lay there, body stretched out amongst the covers of the bed, but not under them, nor using them. Her uniform was neatly packed away, the asari wearing nothing but a pair of underwear, the rest of her body exposed to the world. Her skin was wrought with goosebumps from the cold air, fans operating to purify the room of all warmth. The asari's blue body simply lay there, seemingly emotionless eyes gazing up at the ceiling without purpose, without need, without emotion. While in this state, I am a machine.

Her apartment was largely basic, but wasn't as dirty or unkept as it would have been under Aria T'Loak's rule, or under the title of Omega. Alpha was the heart of Sanctum politics, and as such, looked the part. What once had been dirty streets full of the homeless or the criminally injust, what had once been skyscrapers spewing out toxic smoke, what had once been a dark station full of crime, was now peaceful and most of all, civilized.

Sanctum looked almost like what old asari colonies would look like; an artificial sun occupying the upper reaches of the station, operating on a day and night cycle similiar to that on the raloi homeworld, Turvess. The streets had less criminals, and more law enforcement. Skycrapers were majestic, proud and tall, not melted bricks. The place didn't look like hell, it looked more akin to a more realistic form of heaven. Sanctum was beautiful, a massive contrast compared to its original form. Sanctum, in some respects, might have been the modern Citadel, with its own Council and sense of galactic peace. If only the Dominion and the Covenant would stop fighting...

What's done is done. Nothing can change that.

A sigh next to him, old and haggard. Red Star was suddenly brought back to reality, and made aware of her current prisoner.

"I don't know if you're trying to get me aroused or if you walk around with your balloons hanging out daily, but honestly, put a top on," Daro commented snarkily, the old woman not losing any of her charm, "Don't get me wrong, you are a prime example of asari feminity, and I'm sure any man would enjoy you. But I don't need to see you walking around like a whore who has lost her way. It makes me uncomfortable."

Samara sighed, not even turning to look at the quarian, "Your comfort does not concern me, Xen, only your crimes."

"Oh, of which I've committed many, I'm sure," the scientist replied, a grin gracing her features, "I do believe I lost count though; you might have to remind me."

"Too many to count," the asari simply replied, voice hostile, "Now, do me the pleasure of shutting your mouth."

Xen whistled, "You've changed alot, Samara. I remember you when you were a badass, and when you could kill people with a single flick of your wrist. I also remember when you were Miss Humble and Justified. Now you're...well, weak, feeble and a tad too sensitive. What happened to the old Samara? What changed?"

Samara didn't reply for a couple of seconds and after awhile, the asari replied, barely above a mumble, "The war happened. The old Samara died when Thessia died and she is long buried. I am not a justicar anymore, I never will be again. I am Red Star; nothing more, nothing less. Now quiet yourself."

"Sure, fine," Daro wriggled in her restraints, "It would help if I had a geth to experiment on..."

"Silence," Samara hushed, but the quarian had just one more question.

"Why am I even here?" Daro asked, skirting dangerously close over the line, "If you wanted me dead, I'd be rotting in some Alpha alley somewhere. You have me as a prisoner for...I've lost count of how many days. Why? Why am I not dead?"

Red sighed and finally turned to face Xen, face contorted in an expression of anger and resignation, "You are here because I was instructed to bring you here. You are part of an ongoing investigation into Promethean activities, and their relations to the Dominion, Covenant and Sanctum. My partner will be arriving soon."

"Partner?" Daro asked, raising an eyebrow, "What partner? You never mentioned you had a partner."

Red smiled, "Because I don't discuss my plans with my prisoners. They'll escape and, knowing my plans, do their best to avoid me. I am not stupid."

"For an asari, I guess not," Daro jested, turning back to the wall, her arms tied infront of her by omni-cuffs, her legs the same. Her medical implants had been removed by one of Sanctum State Hospital's doctors on Red's clientele, reducing Xen to the old woman she was. If she tried to run, she had no implants to save her, and would most likely just break a leg trying to flee. Instead, Xen had just resigned herself to her fate, not wanting to bother trying to change things and sprint for it. Red might be forced to kill her, then.

Red turned back to the ceiling, delving into the thoughts Xen had reawakened subconsciously. She felt hidden emotions build back up; she remembered the final days of the Asari Republics during the early stages of the Post-Apocalyptic War. She remembered the burning of Selvos, the occupation of Tevura, the fall of Lymetis. She remembered the Promethean assault on Lesuss, and...and...

Hot tears brimmed in her eyes as she remembered the most painful memories of all; the fall of Thessia itself. She had been there, watching the beautiful skyscrapers of Armali disappear as her evac shuttle took off to leave with the remnants of the once proud asari navy. And then Samara had watched as the bombs had dropped, and Thessia lit up in brilliant light and color, the weapons of mass destruction reducing her homeworld to an uninhabitable, smoking ruin. The asari might have ended up like the Migrant Fleet, but they had found refuge on Omega, and turned it into their new homeworld, renaming it Alpha.

The memories dissipated and Red wiped the tears from her eyes, uncaring whether or not Xen saw her. Those memories were ones thought to be long buried, decades of melancholy extinguished. It was true; Alpha was all the asari had left, all their other worlds gone; either converted into Dominion colonies or reduced to smoking ruin.

Alpha, in its own way, was a haven for species that had nothing left. The asari homeworld was a smoking, radioactive ruin that wouldn't be able to support life for hundreds of thousands of years, Palaven was a DMZ, largely unoccupied by any species. Sur'Kesh was abandoned, although a few Dominion outposts lay in wait for any salarians daring enough to try and retake their homeworld. Khar'Shan still hadn't recovered from the Reaper War by the time the batarians were kicked out.

Alot of homeworlds were empty now, their peoples gone to live on a space station that had once inhibited all that was wrong with the galaxy. Omega had once been under the rule of Aria T'Loak, but when the asari saw what the Dominion had done to her people and their homeworld, she had opened her gates and let them onboard. She was surprised at the amount of turians and salarians flooding through as well.

However, eventually Aria got greedy and decided to impose martial law, to which the remnants of the Republics and the Hierarchy weren't willing to agree with. Eventually, when Aria became too stubborn and arrogant, her daughter, Sata T'Loak, to everyone's surprise, rose up and killed her mother, taking control and beginning a new realm of leadership, which was eventually called the New Council, and so the Sanctum was born, and Omega transformed and industrialized into Alpha.

Sata remained in power of course, but the New Council; made up of Councilor Bigal Ltors of the Drell, Splantis of the Hanar, Padok Wiks of the Salarians, Sata T'Loak of the Asari, and Krai Kol Kai of the Raloi. All five of them in their Council building, the Spire of Alpha, all looking after Alpha, all maintaining the Sanctum, the haven. The only truly peaceful place in the galaxy. All races were welcome, even Dominion races, as long as they didn't bring war with them. However, it was common knowledge that Sata ruled Alpha, and only Sata. Her morals were different, but her ambition was her mother's.

Her mother...I was sworn to kill people like her once...Maybe Red, given the chance, would have killed Aria, but she had been traumatized then, her code forgotten, and she had so willingly accepted Aria's help, and when the time came to kill her, she was still too emotionally distraught to carry it out. So her own daughter did it instead. She also thought of her friends, the people she had fought alongside, alot of them now technically her enemies. Word says that it was Tali'Shepard herself, sitting on the bridge of her flagship, the CSV Revengeance, looking down on Thessia, who gave the order to destroy the world from which my people drew breath.

But it was a lie, it had to be. She had known Tali, and she would never have given such an order. Of course, I thought I had known her. At that point, she was still wrecked by Shepard's death, and would not have been herself; it was said she fought the Covenant Prophet, Si Pel, with nothing but her boot knife and a malfunctioning omni-tool. She screamed 'Marcus! Marcus! Marcus!' as she furiously ripped the batarian apart, and when she stood up, swimming in the batarian's blood, she had looked up, her eyes full with hate, rage, and most frightening of all, a bottomless pit of fire.

But they were just rumors. She wondered how age faired the quarian, knowing that with their lifespans, she would be reaching death by now. And all the others...oh yes, she had been out of contact with them for quite some time. But they were Samara's friends, not Red's. Justicar Samara had died at the gates of Omega, and Red Star had been born upon the birth of democratic Omega.

Silence followed as Red returned from her memories, staring aimlessly at the roof, as she had been doing for the past few days. It was all she had to occupy the time, all she could do. Daro was not pleasant company, and all she liked to do was complain, mock or tease, all to the quarian's detriment. She had asked many questions, all of which had met a stone wall of carelessness, until now. Maybe I'm losing my edge. I am Red Star, but I still contain that same calm I had as Samara. But why do I feel the need to reach out and choke that woman to death?

Xen was hardly friendly, after all. She's a smart woman; she seeks to enrage me, get me to act rash, do something stupid...like accidentally free her. She's a cunning and manipulative woman, a girl in comparison to me, yet so old compared to her own people. I used to think living for a century sucked, and then I endured centuries of my own life, and discovered it wasn't much better; only my misery was extended tenfold...

Red couldn't believe it; she had endured four, close to five, hundred years of hunting criminals and righting wrongs, and to kill her own daughter, Morinth. My daughters are dead; all three of them. One the Reapers took away, another Prometheus, and one I took away myself. She had never seen Falere's face, but she knew, that as soon as she tried to enter the blazing rebuilt monastery, that her last daughter was dead; burnt alive by the incendiary bombs.

They saw the Reaper War was the greatest conflict in galactic history...and they say the Terra-Rannochian War involves the most losses. But was an entire homeworld rendered inhabitable in any of those conflicts? Did many lose their homeworlds permanently? Did the Reapers conquer half the galaxy, and work to wipe out the rest...

The answer was no, but it felt hollow to be right. The war is done, and the deeds complete. Now the galaxy reaps what it sowed, and slowly rips itself apart...

The Milky Way Galaxy was billions of years old.

But it wouldn't reach past 2300 AD.

2251. By the goddess, its been that long since the Reapers were defeated? Seventy years...and we are all so old...Tali would be...ninety-six? Yes, that sounds about right. And Garrus...Kasumi...all of them, dying, withering, and I still have a couple, or a few, centuries left. Goddess, I've lost count. I don't even know my own age anymore.

She stopped counting at 762.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts, and she silently thanked the perpetrator.

Red shot up from her position on the bed, and remembered she was naked. She told the person to wait and silently got dressed, not making a sound, painfully aware of Daro's eyes on her form. Let her watch. She cannot hurt me; she is a feeble old woman who has been removed of her only source of strength. Her words are her only weapons. She fitted on her uniform, tightened it, thinned out any creases and made sure the bodice was tied before approaching the door and looking through the peephole.

It wasn't Miranda, or anyone of her agents.

I know Miranda's agents; how they stand, how they react, how they think. And I think I know the looks of the woman I fought beside. Something isn't right about this. This person was all wrong; the stance was impatient, nervous and overall too eager. He was a human male, not very well built and had a single SMG strapped to their hip, along with a line of flashbangs. He wore no armor, and she couldn't see an insignia of any kind. No insignia equals Prometheus; only they know true subtlety. If they know I have Daro, then Siren won't be too far behind...

She shuddered at the thought and quickly composed herself, putting on her best fake smile and hitting the holo interface, watching the door open with ease. The man looked at her, and put on his own, unconvincing grin. Intentions unknown; could be hostile, can take down if necessary. No signs of implant, might not be a biotic. Muscle density is light, not very strong. SMG secured in holster, would take too long to equip, and he knows I'm asari. Flashbangs would take even longer to prime and lob. Wears no armor; not prepared for battle of attrition or reinforcements.

"Hello," the man replied, "Is this the apart of Falere P'Fi?"

"That it is," Red replied, "And you are?"

The man nodded, overly confident, "Sanctum Federal Police; I've come to ask you a few questions on a federal matter, ma'am. We believe you might be involved in an elaborate exchange with Dominion authorities, and the Council just want to make sure nothing is being compromised. A matter of station security, you must understand."

"Of course officer," Red replied, smile broadening, motioning inside. Definitely not Prometheus: would not be so careless in disguise. Federal Police don't ask question, they ransack with extreme prejudice. FP also wear uniform and do not carry flashbangs around so casually. Impatient stance also distinguishes him from a trained officer to a mere rookie, and FP do not recruit rookies.

The man walked inside, and as soon as the door closed, Red turned to him, making sure it was locked. Assume hostility. She pulsed with biotics, noticing the man's sudden reaction to Daro in cuffs. Recognizes his objective. As she reached forward, she noticed him spinning, hand going for his SMG. Suspicions confirmed; disable and interrogate hostile. Not Prometheus, Not Red Sky, Not Federal Police. Identify and disignate potential threat. Just as the man completed his whirl round, his hand on the handle, he flew threw the air, hitting the wall and landing on the bed, buttocks first.

With another flick of her wrist, the SMG went flying from his hands to clatter against the wall, only just out of Daro's reach. The quarian looked dejected, but quickly gained a smirk as she watched the man recover, but Red quickly turned back to him. She hovered through the air and landed infront of him, straddling him so he couldn't get his flashbangs and quickly put him in a stasis field, allowing her to cuff his hands to the back of the bed.

The field disappeared just as she stepped off the bed and turned to face him, smile gone and replaced with cold malice and calm only a predator hunting prey could perform. He is the prey, now be the predator. Interrogate. Disignate threat.

Daro spoke up, breaking the silence as the man slowly and lethargically opened his eyes, energy drained by the effects of the biotic stasis, "Ah, Gerold baby, you came to rescue. A pity you botched that," noticing Red's raised eyebrow, Daro chuckled, looking at her with a wide grin, "He's my...assistant of sorts, you don't need the details, do you? You're a smart woman; you figure it out."

...Red was disgusted. A woman of her age...

Gerold spoke up, voice low and dejected, "Yeah, you're welcome. Try not to be captured by a kickass asari next time; I might be able to succeed."

Daro sighed, "You were always hopeless outside the bed."

Red smiled inwardly, ironic, given the situation. Gerold, still cuffed to the bed, looked at Red, eyes narrowed, "So now what? Yeah, you know who I am, so why not kill me?"

"Who do you work for?" Red demanded.

Gerold looked at her with feigned confusion, "Work for? I don't want-"

A biotic field appeared around his throat, tightening, causing him to be cut off. Red's eyes were ice cold, "Who. Do. You. Work. For. Do not make me ask again."

"Someone who wants Daro alive. That's all I'm-"

The field tightened. His face reddened and his hands grasped his throat, unable to catch hold of his interrogator's phantom choking hands.

"...a friend of Prometheus! A very good friend, would earn alot to have you d-"

The field once again tightened, the man fighting for every breath.

"-mercenary-grou-p. They'r-e-called-the-the-"

"The what?"

"The-The-The-Grim-Skulls-"

"Who leads them?"

"How should I-"

"Who?" Red almost growled.

"Some bitch named Morinth alright!" Gerold yelled out, gasping for breath, face lighting up as soon as he was rewarded, Red letting go as a flood of emotions; anger, rage and sadness, coupled with horrible memories of death, abomination and doctors droning entered her mind. She looked at them both, and then at the ground. And as she looked up, Samara was back, Red pushed to the back of her mind as she became what she needed to be again. Samara was back, for now, and not for long.

Samara's first words, for a long time were, "It cannot be possible."

{Loading...}

August 13, 2251

1538 hours.

Triard, Williams State Hospital, Williams, Virmire.

Lance Corporal Thane'Shepard pav Rannoch, Ashley'Raan pav Rannoch.

Thane's world opened up in an explosion of blurry imagery. He couldn't see a thing as his head turned back and forth, trying to gain some kind of coherent sight. His vision remained blurred, his eyes itching like he had just woken up from a long slumber. The pain in his arm returned, flaring up like biotics, and it filled him with fire.

He couldn't make out his surroundings apart from a few bits of grey and the muffled sounds of someone moving about nearby. His skin felt exposed, and he felt something, like the rays of a sun, blaring down on it, warming him up. His back lay against something soft and comfortable, but that felt wrong, and he tried to remember what had happened.

Iwojima. Destroyed. Adrift. Nemata. Reby. Unconscious. Lack of oxygen. Suit-link. The memories returned to him in an instant; Reby's life source leaking out of her suit as he plugged her into his, sharing his life with hers. I linked suits with her. Heat rushed to his cheeks and he tried to sit up, only for someone to bark in his ear, words unintelligble, a warm hand pressing against his chest and stopping him from fully sitting up, still barking.

As if the sudden movement had suddenly cured his sight, his vision cleared and he was able to see clearly. He was in a small, contained, hospital room, grey walls encompassing all sides. To his left was an observation window, not only allowing a view of the city of Williams below, but the blaring sun of Hoc blaring down on Virmire. The Williams Hospital was ontop of a hill, so the building practically looked down on the other half of the massive metropolis.

He turned looked down to see his hardsuit had been removed, the human-quarian hybrid wearing a simple hospital gown and a tag on his wrist, his legs exposed to the world, skin the natural quarian purple. His face was exposed too and he would have panicked, but he knew he was safe, a planet full of oxygen...and as he turned further to his right, he saw a familiar face holding him down, wearing a hospital uniform, hair tied up in a bun, eyes caring and reassuring. His sister.

"Lie down Thane!" Her barking turned into distinquishable words, "You're not ready! I know you're confused, but I can explain!"

He complied, lying back down on the hospital, realizing he was plugged into multiple life support machines and other pieces of medical equipment. He sighed, looking back up at Ashley, who looked concerned, but quickly wiped it away with a fake smile and began to play with her datapad. All those days in Drama class made you a good actor Ash. "Thank you Thane," she finally spoke up, turning away from her datapad to look at him, "Please remain calm; you've been through alot of trauma and your body needs time to recover."

"What's..." his voice was croaky, hoarse, and it hurt, "What's the damage?" He reiterated, looking down at the omni-cast that was set around his arm; a massive bulb of orange energy encompassing his broken arm, keeping it in a 'stasis' while the medically crafted omni-gel fixed and healed his bones. In times like these, getting a broken arm wasn't as horrible as it once was; now it was like getting stitches or placing a band-aid on a cut.

Ashley sighed, that same fake smile still pasted on her lips as she looked back at her datapad and read off the details, "You've got a broken arm, a broken toe, strained wrist and almost snapped your neck. If not for your hardsuit, you'd be dead and your head twisted the wrong way," Ashley dictated, looking back at him, "That's about it."

Then more memories came back; Thane pushing the embarassment away with worry, as his eyes once again met hers, "And...Reby?"

Ashley immediately lost her smile and sighed, not even bothering to look at her data, "When the patrol ship found you, you two were in bad shape. You had fallen asleep, and Reby had been unconscious for up to six hours, both of you sharing oxygen. You most likely saved her life, but before hand, she had a nasty concussion to the back of her skull and a tiny crack appeared, but we were able to seal it," she inhaled and exhaled, continuing on, "We had to seperate you two and place her in a different cell; her wounds were much more...fatal. Her lungs could have failed if not for you, but they were still suffering from oxygen depravation, that coupled with her concussion, a crack in her skull, a broken wrist and ankle, and a black eye, she was in bad shape. We've put her in a medically induced coma, and it does look like she'll make it, we just need time to let the omni-gel heal her bones and for her body to repair itself."

Thane looked mortified and turned away, looking directly at the door. Why am I so scared? I saved her. I saved Reby. She's going to be okay; would you ever call Ash a liar? No, so why are you so worried? The next thought haunted him. Because you want more than friendship with her. He growled, shaking the thoughts from his head. I don't love her; we're best friends. Or are we? I mean, I have found myself admiring her more than once, and I've caught more than one stolen glance from her, but she's always hidden it well. And mum did say we'd be a perfect couple...no! Don't complicate things! Why ruin a good friendship by getting greedy? No, she deserves better anyway. She deserves a quarian or a human, not an abomination like me. Not the hybrid.

He felt disgusted in his thoughts. You are not a hybrid; you are the blood of The Shepard and Tali'Shepard pav Rannoch. You are the blood of those who destroyed the nightmares of a galaxy and saved it from determined extinction. You are no hybrid, you are the son of a hero. A god.

Maybe god was a little bit too far. But he knew what he was, and maybe he did or didn't deserve Reby, but he knew for a certainty that she didn't deserve him. She deserves a whole lot better; she's always treated me right and looked after me, I won't repay her friendship and kindness by getting impatient and greedy. No, we're friends. Nothing more.

"Thane?" He suddenly remembered Ashley's presence and she looked at him, worry in her eyes. He looked back at her, letting a small smile that didn't quite meet his eyes crease along his lips.

"I'm fine Ash, really," he told her reassuringly, holding out his other hand for Ashley to take and smile.

"Just looking out for my bro," Ashley told him, giggling, "I requested that I be the one to tend to you, you know. Boss didn't like it, but I gave him the typical Shepard response."

Thane chuckled, "We Shepards get away with alot of things, don't we?"

"That we do," Ashley responded, but within a moment, the grin was gone, and her voice shook as she asked, "Thane...who attacked you? You left on an interceptor and were found on a destroyed frigate? What happened?"

Thane sighed, looking up at her, "I can't say much, they might be recording everything we say, but I'll just say that people want me and Reby dead. I don't know why, but they tried it and failed. We boarded their ship, took it, but then they got reinforcements and sacrificed their own ship to try and kill us. They really want us dead; and if they somehow find out we're alive, they might try again."

Ashley widened her eyes in fear, "Thane, are you telling me you're in danger? Why don't you tell someone? Tell Uncle Garrus, or Aunt Kasumi, hell, go to Tuchanka and ask Uncle Wrex for help! Anyone; noone will try to hurt you if they know who your family is!"

"That's just it Ash," Thane interrupted her, resolve entering his tone, "I think they attacked us because of who our family is. They want us dead because I'm a Shepard and Reby's a Reegar, and we're practically brother and sister in that way. Hell Ash, if they know you work here, you won't be safe either."

Ash shook her head, turning away, too frightened to answer. Finally, she turned back, tears in her eyes, "If you're in danger Thane...what about mum?"

He cursed under his breath, "Legion and Moses will keep her safe; Moses guards her like a mother guards a son. Legion is Legion. Besides, she has geth watching her house day and night, keeping her safe. Noone will dare attack her."

"And Kaidan? And Penya?" Ashley asked, almost sobbing, flaying her arms around like a madwoman, "One's in prison and the other is on some battlefield somewhere! Are they in danger too!? What if they find an excuse to execute Kaidan and cause some friendly fire for Penya? What then? Our entire family is in danger!"

"I know that!" Thane shouted, "I know...ancestors I know...and I'm just as scared as you are, but there's nothing we can do for now."

Ashley sighed, falling into a work chair behind her and looking blankly out the windows, "Things would be different if dad were still alive. He'd protect us. He'd kick their asses, just like he did Saren, Sovereign, Harbinger, Vanguard, Oblivion and the rest of the Reapers."

Thane exhaled, looking down at the bed. He really missed dad, "You're damn right he would've. But he's not; he's dead, but we're not. We have to fight to protect ourselves. Mum is safe, and you're surrounded by a hospital and a protective husband on good terms with the Williams Police Department, so they won't dare send an agent to kill you. I'm going to try and find Kaidan and Penya, try and get them to safety. You know...me and Reby, these people...we're fugitives now."

Ashley looked at him with wide eyes, "You got in trouble with the authorities!?"

Let them record me. Let them know I'm alive, "Prometheus, Ash. Prometheus attacked us."

His sister's eyes only widened further, "Prometheus...wants you dead..." she zoned out, unsure of what to make of his accusation. Then she turned to him, eyes blank of emotion, "...what are you going to do?"

Thane gave her a weary smile, "Protect Reby and do whatever I can to make sure Prometheus pays for every drop of blood they spill. They will not gain easy conquest over us. None of us. I'll find Kaidan, keep him safe and then I'll rescue Penya. We have to stick together, or they'll kill us. You're safe; keep your husband close, and the police closer. You'll be safer that way."

Ashley looked at him, shaking her head, "But you'll be in danger. You're not a fire breather, Thane. You can't just burn Prometheus to the ground."

Thane just smiled, "Oh, I can, and I will. I won't just be a Shepard, Ash..."

"...I'm going to become the fire breather."

A/N:

Now back to 2185, where shit gets real...