Chapter 2
The Crew is Assembled
Commander Mark Shepard, a man with a fire that can make someone willing to follow you into hell itself.
As much as I can't stand the perfect little Cerberus cheerleader even to this day and never agreed with her on shit, we could agree on that little tidbit of information at least.
Honestly, Mark was a man I'd never cared to know much about and I'd only heard the name in passing, but he was so famous in the circles Marcus and I'd traveled in that eventually I did my research. No one really knew his physical identity because he always wore this Alliance issued N7 Onyx armor and a breather helmet that covered his face, but rumor had it that he could bore you to death with just his blue eyes alone. I knew this had to be utter bullshit because the rumor had been started by the batarians. Nevertheless, my findings brought me to respect the man behind the mask.
What did I find?
Oh, I found out a lot of things about the man I was about to meet. Apparently, he'd come from a proud space faring lineage that branched down from the first American to travel into space, the great Alan Bartlett Shepard. He was related through his mother to Rear Admiral Jon Grissom and Kahlee Sanders, Grissom being his uncle and the first man to take a team through the Charon Relay and Kahlee his first cousin. Mark's mother, Jon, and his daughter Kahlee, were in turn related to Gus Grissom, the second American in space and a member of the Mercury and Gemini space programs during the 20th century.
On top of the familial notoriety and what I remember him telling me, Mark is the spawn of two very prominent and highly decorated soldiers, Admiral Derek Shepard and Captain Hannah Shepard. Admiral Shepard died in the initial wave of the FCW's space battle as he was the Captain of the SSV Fiji and honorably went down with his ship. Because Mark was now fatherless and the military wouldn't allow for children to accompany their parents on deep space missions, she left them with George and Reyna Grissom, his great aunt and uncle, in Vancouver, BC. Canada.
But you probably already knew that.
Anyway, the elderly couple opted to raise him for Captain Shepard, but their old age prevented the proper discipline and care. And since Hannah sort of resented Mark because he looked just like the recently deceased love of her life, Hannah only visited for a week every year. Then as his balls and voice dropped and he became the spitting image of his father, it became when she could, which eventually had become never.
You can guess how that turned out.
By his thirteenth birthday, the Grissoms had died and he was put in the system. But the system was faulty and he wandered the streets until he joined with the 10th street Reds, an anti-alien and demisang hating street gang who were the lost boys of Vancouver. But don't get me wrong, Mark isn't gullible by any means. In just a few short years he'd risen from a drag to the full fledged leader of the gang.
However, the brightest flame burns quickest.
Four years from his initiation, he'd gotten caught in the Red's massive drug smuggling ring by Admiral Steven Hackett, as the military had been the major recipient of the product. And because Hackett owed Derek Shepard a huge favor and felt as though the wayward boy was partly his responsibility, he gave Mark a choice. It was either join the Systems Alliance Navy or be sent to jail for the rest of his life without the possibility of parole.
To save his own hide, Mark chose the Navy. Just like in the Reds he'd excelled in his art, received multiple awards in tactics and reconnaissance, and was labeled a strategic genius. He was intelligent, but had a chip on his shoulder, Hackett nominated him for N-School, or what is classified as 'the villa', which was where he endured only the spirits knew what and received his N7 designation.
Then there was Torfan, his first real spec ops mission. It eventually came out that he'd been ordered by gunpoint to slaughter one hundred batarian pirates. Because of his ruthless actions, which the Alliance pinned him for instead of Major Kyle, then Lieutenant Commander Shepard got a promotion to Commander Shepard. And to compound matters, he gathered galactic notoriety and the ever watchful eye of the Council. The only punishment he suffered for his actions was bouts of nightmares and resentment for authority figures. Unless you were Anderson (who'd fought to get the charges dropped for Torfan), and Hackett.
Hearing facts like this would give anyone the impression that because of his genealogy and past for being a ruthless son-of-a-bitch, he would be this stick in the mud military lifer who followed the rules to a tee.
But does the man ever really live up to the legend?
Not in Mark's case.
Mark isn't your typical military ship captain or the family friendly hero most people believe him to be. Yeah, that's the public façade, but if you ask anyone on the Normandy crew they'll tell you that he drinks hard liquor in excess, smokes cigars, and curses up a storm when he's in the mood. He's cynical, arrogant, and doesn't give two shits about regulations or formalities. If superiors were around, then sure, he'd stand at attention and salute when they passed by or he would run in circles if they demanded it of him. He might have been fiercely protective of us, but his mood swings were the worst.
However, there are some redeeming qualities. He's a smooth talker and a brilliant negotiator; he could probably negotiate the pants off a batarian if he really wanted. He rises to any challenge and quickly picks himself back up, which made him our inspiration. He's generous with his time and never turned down a request to help someone in need.
Like ying and yang, two sides of the same coin.
But the major kicker: Mark isn't beneath using someone to his advantage; rather they are good or evil in character. Let's just say that if he wanted a shotgun that isn't normally issued by the Alliance or even legal in most of Council space, he'll go on a pilgrimage to hunt someone down who could either fabricate the weapon or procure it from an illegal weapons dealer.
That's how I became one of the Normandy's crew. Now, I'm good at negotiation skills and could pretty much talk my way out of anything if I tried hard enough, but Mark had a true gift. And that gift got him the Spectre designation and got me to work on his side of the law, despite my better judgment.
Scuttlebutt knows gossip travels fast and can have the potential to go viral on a small ship like the Normandy. Although Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams had made it a point to stay trapped within her own thoughts, she had certainly heard the rumors from her fellow crewmates about the stowaway and the stiff reprimand of Officer Chris Postle – the Requisitions Officer – by a fuming CO.
There was no escaping it.
Normally, the gunnery chief would have lunged at the idea of a good drama but right now, she didn't care less about what was going on around her. She was still seething over the fates of the 212 because in her mind, she kept reviewing how she could have saved them even though she knew deep down that it was out of her hands.
No matter how withdrawn she might have become, getting dragged into the drama swirling within the Normandy was bound to happen and for Ashley…that time was now. She was in the middle of therapeutically releasing the tension by scrubbing down the sights of the Lancers when Kaidan intruded on her personal space and leaned against the bench, arms crossed.
"Williams, did you hear? A pirate was found stowed away in the cargo bay. And to add insult to injury, Shepard's entertaining the idea of adding her to the team."
He let his eyes to settle on the side of her head and a few brief moments of silence passed before he began again. "A penny for your thoughts, Chief?"
Ashley sighed heavily in response and sat the pieces down calmly, leaning with her palms on the surface and her head bowed, trying to mask her annoyance from the higher ranking officer.
"Hasn't everyone heard about the pirate?"
Kaidan's face wrinkled into a frown. "You know, since you've boarded you've been down here in the shadows and haven't really spoken to anyone." He nodded after a few moments of awkward silence, "I get it. I just wanted someone to talk to and I'll leave if you don't want to be disturbed."
Deep down inside, Ashley knew she needed to take a chill pill because there was just no sense in dwelling on the past. The fine soldiers of the 212 were dead and there was no reconciliation for that, Shepard made that perfectly clear. At this point the only thing she could do was pray for the families of the fallen.
It wasn't like she'd get a medal or any recognition for her valor because being the granddaughter of General Williams carried a certain stigma that kept her from advancing in the military or getting any real recognition. And to be fair, she wouldn't have had the shipboard posting she had now had it not been for that tragic situation and the grace of Captain Anderson. But it didn't sway the feeling of guilt she still felt that they paid for her new posting in blood.
However, Ashley couldn't complain as this was exactly where she wanted to be the moment she enlisted on her eighteenth birthday. She figured that she should – at the very least – take a break before she got a cramp in her neck from leaning over the bench for so long. So she mirrored the sentinel's stance, her eyes wandering to the turian fiddling with the control panel of the Mako.
After a few contemplative moments, she finally spoke in a softer, more professional tone.
"You can stay sir, and I'm sorry for my attitude. I'm still angry over losing the 212 to those geth and I took it out on you."
"Hey," Kaidan cooed as placed his hand comfortingly on her shoulder, "I understand how you feel. I'm still reeling over losing Jenkins to those geth bastards. He was a damn good soldier."
Ashley closed her eyes and recited a quote that had been lingering in her mind since Eden Prime. "Ours is not to reason why, ours is but to do or die." She then opened her eyes and released a deep breath. "Whatever we do, I just don't want their deaths to be in vain."
"They won't," the sentinel reassured her, "the Commander won't let that happen. He's hell bent on taking down Saren and I don't think anything or anyone will get in his way."
"Really," Ashley snorted, "like a pirate that decided to stow away on this ship. If he does add her to the team, at least that's better than another alien."
Kaidan was instantly shocked at the soldier's acidic tone, but she was right. This was a human Alliance ship, captained by a human commander and the first human spectre. There should have been more humans recruited. End of discussion.
But he wasn't going to be the one to question the CO's choices. If Shepard felt that the current team he was assembling was good enough for the mission, then it was good enough for him.
Without more information, the sentinel really didn't know what to think about the nameless woman. It was either the commander knew the implications and had a plan set to keep her in line or Ashley was right: he was being distracted by a pirate's antics and they were all in for a rude awakening. Whatever the case; Kaidan's intrigue about the woman kept her in the forefront of his mind.
"Apparently," he conveyed with a hint of humor, "she's a demisang. She was speaking turian when she and Detective Vakarian had their little encounter in the shuttle bay."
"A half-breed, huh?" Ashley mused in intrigue and her eyebrows rose, making a mental note to have a 'friendly' chat with her later.
"From what I heard from Dr. Chakwas, that pirate is truly something else," Kaidan nodded lightly, "It will be interesting to see how she fairs with the rest of the crew. You know, if it comes to that."
"Just remind me to hide my stuff. I hate pirates. Shifty people." Ashley deadpanned and they both broke out into a lighthearted laugh.
Kaidan's stomach started to growl and he turned to her. "I'm glad you're feeling better and I'm headed for the mess. If you ever want to talk about…you know…whatever, I'll be here whenever you need me."
Ashley nodded. "I do feel a little better and-" she grabbed his arm as he was retreating, "Thanks…sir."
"No problem, Williams. That's what Marines do. We stick together." The sentinel gave her one last smile before he left for the elevator and she returned to her mindless work, a rare and small smile on her face.
– S01E02 –
Consciousness came back to Olivia slowly as she tried to pry open her heavy eyelids.
The brain pounding headache from being clocked in the back of the head was temporarily preventing any physical movement, including the simple act of opening her sore eyes. The throbbing pain was so fierce that it was blurring whatever vision she could muster, causing her to be terribly nauseous and made her feel as though she would hurl if she even moved an inch.
Damn, he hit me hard as fuck. I haven't felt like this since…
The painkillers that had been coursing through her veins muddied her thoughts, so she was unaware of where she was, what had happened in the last few hours, and she only vaguely remembered she'd been hit in the head.
However, her ears were working just fine and that keen hearing picked up on the gentle hum of foreign internal engines and ship propelling machinery that revealed to her that at the very least she was still aboard a ship and not in a Citadel hospital.
That was the thing with space faring vessels; you could never abdicate that low whirr as it was the heartbeat of the ship. For someone who spent their lives journeying the galaxy as she had, it was definitely something you simultaneously trained yourself to disregard and be fully attentive to at the same time. For if that sound happened to cease it probably meant the life support systems had failed and you only had a limited amount of time before the ship you'd called home, became your grave.
The sound of a functioning life support system was reassuring for her; however, it wasn't enough to halt her first instinct to reach under her pillow for one of her pistols. Being a lone wolf for so long forced her to acquire certain mechanisms and this one always topped the list, especially when the factors around her were unknown.
It was second nature; she didn't even realize she had engaged in the act until she spotted an older, graying woman in her peripheral – the medic of the ship she assumed by her white lab outfit – crinkle her slightly age wrinkled face into a stern frown. Immediately the light in the scanner above Olivia's eyes shut off and it was a struggle but she managed to sit upright without puking. The medic returned to her terminal, the click of her nails on the interface echoing in the small space.
Olivia rubbed her forehead. She must be typing a report telling the Alliance how I'm bat-shit crazy.
I should tell her to join the club.
Feeling only slightly relieved, she cautiously rolled her neck to release the built up tension that resulted in a series of cracks and pops. As she was finishing her routine of flexing her fingers, the medic must have finalized her report because she came over to slide the IV drip of Papaverus out of the pirate's arm (to which Olivia winced because she absolutely hated needles), brandished a small smile and a mysterious cordial nod, and exited the room through the door.
Having the Papaverus out of her arm and slowly filtering itself out of her bloodstream cleared her head some and she removed the white streaked raven plait aside to reveal the extent of her injuries. She hadn't received any stitches; there was no crusted blood; but there was a swollen knot that was still sore as hell.
Deep down inside and past her growing annoyance with the man and her injury, she knew she couldn't be too angry with Mr. Rookie because the man had performed as she expected.
But it still didn't give him reason to hit me that damn hard.
After Olivia was completely pleased that the nausea had subsided completely, she panned around to her surroundings. She thought she'd be in the ship's brig, as that's where she'd assumed he would have placed her for safekeeping. But what she actually saw wasn't even in the same vein.
She was being treated in an industrial looking medical bay of some sort, with three beds connected to half-domed MRI scanning machines, she being in the middle bed. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a medi-gel dispenser she planned to raid and it was near that medi-gel dispenser where she caught movement coming towards her.
A lightly armored human male with stunning blue eyes neared her and as she forced her luminescent eyes to focus on him, she could barely make out that he seemed less than pleased as his arms were crisply folded over his chest and his face revealed a slight frown. He reached out verbally, but she couldn't initially understand him.
After a small tweak to her omni-tool, a gentle pop in her right ear confirmed the translator was back online and she could understand him loud and clear.
"Are you feeling better?"
If eyes were truly the windows to a man's soul and revealed all you desired about his worth; then Olivia could tell this man was battle-hardened and experienced. The General had trained her on reading all species and it came in handy during times like now. It helped with her 'fight or flight' response, as it usually revealed to her what the stakes were. It was usually fight because she'd gotten herself into some odd situations during her travels.
But to Olivia's discontent, that response was abnormally absent. She thought that maybe it was the fog that was still swirling in her head, clouding her judgment and impairing her thoughts. She thought maybe it was the non-confrontational tone he took with her.
Who knew?
She noted that he did sound genuinely concerned for her welfare although he had known nothing about her or her intentions. She guaranteed that if he'd known about those ill intentions, or even found out her career of choice, he would have set her up with a date with Mr. Airlock without a second thought.
Then that inner bitch reprimanded her.
Don't fool yourself, Livvy. Remember: he's Alliance military and a Spectre. It's just the calm before the storm. They all want to see pirates hanging from a noose just like in the old days.
It was true as no species tolerated piracy and the people who chose that path. They barely tolerated mercenaries. The lot were labeled as scum and severely distrusted, even if they decided to switch careers for the betterment of their lives. And spirits forbid if they were caught somehow: they are handed harsh sentences that usually ended in a torturous, televised execution to make them an example to other pirates tempting fate.
It also didn't help that she was a demisang.
Although…something in the air about him made her do a mental double-take. Olivia couldn't put her finger on it yet, but it was something that was worth a second thought when she recovered.
As Olivia's eyes sized the human up, she immediately noted that he was quite handsome, statuesque even. Aside from the regulation short haircut and scar that still looked red with anger under his right eye, the hair along the pronounced line of his jaw had grown out as though he hadn't had a good shave in a few days. But that's what living on a ship will do to you. The hue of his skin was more of a lighter olive color that hadn't seen the rays of a sol in ages and naturally lighter in complexion to hers. She also spotted the N7 logo on his chest and pursed her lips in thought.
N7? Now where have I seen that before?
Then it all clicked.
So, all the rumors were true.
Olivia's eyebrows rose in surprise that she was sitting in the vessel of 'the' Commander Mark Shepard, the infamous butcher of Torfan and the supposed Spectre. And because of those rumors she'd heard from numerous sources, she expected him to be taller than he actually seemed and maybe a bit more brooding and rougher around the edges.
Olivia must have been deep in thought because the commander asked the question again more slowly and leaned closer, keenly studying her movements which seemed terribly interesting to him. As annoyed as she was since she'd gotten it all her life, she didn't blame him; her movements were turian in nature, despite her human appearance. This must have been the first time he'd encountered a demisang before and it showed in his confusion.
Her headache might have been worsening with anticipation of the impending situation, but her nausea was completely gone so she groaned and swung her legs over the side of the cot, cradling her face in her hands and massaging her temples with her thumbs.
"Yeah I'm alright… I think," Olivia answered through her fingers and her voice sounded hoarse, more so than normal, "Just a little headache, that's all."
His eyebrow piqued. "You're a demising. Never met one before but what's wrong with your eyes? I've never met a human whose eyes shine like that."
She pursed her lips eyeballed the ceiling in exasperation. She hated explaining the story to people but she took the time to explain to the Spectre anyway. She was born completely blind; one of those still rare defects that had gone overlooked in one of her biological parent's DNA codes when they'd cured everything from the common cold to AIDS to all cancers. Her parents were aware of this and before she'd turned one, they'd paid up the nose for the surgery to correct the problem.
But one defect led to another.
On top of the blindness she suffered tapetum lucidum, or usually classified as 'eyeshine'. There was a layer of tissue that had accumulated behind the retina and it reflected visible light back through the retina, increasing the light available to her photoreceptors, though blurring the initial image of the light on focus and turning her pupils stark white. However, years of grueling training in the turian military and her own narcissism corrected the blurring and her eyesight was fine now, if not perfect.
In addition to the oddity of her eyes, speaking Tal'mae, which was the English term for the turian language, was her native tongue. She'd learned English over the course of her adult life. However, it was something she still tried to hide. She could get away with the mannerisms, but the language would have given her away almost immediately.
The garbled sounds coming out of her mouth must have sounded like a combination of gibberish and nails against a chalkboard. Turians could understand her without a translator for the most part, like Garrus and her family, although to them it even sounded a bit off because she didn't naturally possess the secondary set of vocal chords to enunciate the chirps and clicks needed on certain consonants to sound intelligible to an actual translator.
"Sorry, love," Olivia shrugged in her half-assed way and used a language closer to home, albeit thickly Latin-accented, "it happens when you're raised by the ol' birds."
"You're very interesting," he rubbed his chin, "Vakarian told me about your exploits, but nothing about…you in particular."
"That dacha doesn't know a fuckin' thing about me. He's just another asshole with a grudge, butcher of Torfan." Olivia fired back through a snort…that turned into a chuckle…that turned into a long, lung heaving cough.
"So…you know who I am?" He graciously handed her a glass of water that Olivia gulped down without a second thought, then took from her and replaced on the bedside table.
Olivia nodded and gestured being shot in the temple. "Mr. Rookie spilled the beans when I had her gun to his head. Plus, you're a fuckin' legend to us pirates."
"Mr. Rookie?" he tapped his chin until the moniker hit, "Ohhhh…Officer Postle. Well, that explains his retaliation against you. Maybe I should have been a little easier on him now since I know the truth."
Olivia nodded absently, as she was scanning the room for possible exit routes had this man become hostile or tried to take her into custody.
"And Vakarian told me that you used to be a captain too?" he teased.
That hit the nerve alright.
"Where's your ship?" Shepard asked after a few moments of Olivia trying to kill him with just her eyes alone.
"My ship?" She finally responded through gritted teeth as the wound was still painful to the touch, "was stolen from me by my brother and I was left for dead. I was planning on stealing yours, but it seems as though that's futile."
"You must be joking," he poked a finger at her, "you…a pirate…steal an Alliance warship…filled with Alliance trained personnel and a Spectre? Are you crazy?" Shepard chuckled smugly, a crooked smirk plastered on his face as if he were challenging her.
Olivia smiled like a cat about to pounce.
Challenge accepted.
"I'm not crazy, just that damn good. And by the way," she poked a finger at him, "for you to be the infamous Butcher of Torfan and the first human Spectre, you've already made three fatal mistakes." She crossed her arms. "First, I'm not in cuffs. Second, you're light. Just one Spectre on ship full of Alliance personnel to keep tabs on me? That's fucking insulting."
"And the third?" Shepard asked, his body tightening in foreseen anticipation.
"Daggers."
Olivia immediately snatched one of the daggers from her boot and flung it skillfully in his direction, rolling backwards off the cot, and landing on her feet, crouched and awaiting the screams of agony as the dagger should be wedged in his jugular by now.
She peeked over the edge of the cot and watched as Shepard reflexively threw up his barrier with ease and deflected the sharp blade that would have most certainly killed him.
A combination of thoughts rolled through her head. One, she was completely stunned because no one in the galaxy had ever been quick enough to deflect that shot, no matter if they were biotic or not. Two, the aforementioned was enough to solidify her respect and fear of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch of the Citadel's arm and never question their choices ever again. And three: it was obvious by this alone that she wouldn't escape a free woman.
Defeated, she rose slowly with her hands up in surrender.
Okay. That didn't work. Time for Plan B.
"Are you through playing with your toys, or should I kick you out the airlock now?" Shepard said with that cock-sure grin back on his face.
"You can holster your pistol, Spectre." Olivia nodded as she moved around the bed and sat back down, her hands still within Shepard's eyesight. "I'll behave."
For now.
"Good." Shepard replied and holstered the pistol he forgot he'd had in his hand, returning his arms back around his torso but more rigid now that he saw this woman as a slight threat to him and his ship.
"Anyway, you're not in cuffs because that wouldn't benefit me none. While you were unconscious, Detective Vakarian informed me that you're a wanted pirate and-" she opened her mouth to protest and he held one finger up to silence her, "I am offering you a one-time deal. It's simple: tell me whatever you know about the rogue Spectre Saren Arterius, and I'll drop you off on whatever planet you want, free to go about your business."
Olivia was immediately struck with intrigue as her eyebrows rose in sheer surprise. Did I hear that right? Mr. Spectre needs a pirate? Am I still unconscious? What does he need with information on Saren?
This just got damn interesting.
Resignation was an option she was considering just because of sheer curiosity. It wasn't the first thing that came to mind, or an option that ever came to mind, but what choice did she have? Olivia knew from her test of Shepard that trying to go renegade on the Alliance and a Spectre would end with her death and she wasn't planning on that for another hundred years. She might have been crazy and impulsive, but she knew her bounds. And even if she could get away with killing this man, Garrus wouldn't hold any punches and probably take her down. In addition, they could have had Captain America, the Incredible Hulk, and Iron Man on board for all she knew.
Olivia was considering defeat when she decided to test the waters. She smirked deviously, crossing her legs smugly at the knee.
"What's to stop me from giving you false information and killing you all? I am a pirate, you know."
"Remember one thing, I am a Spectre," he threatened as he leaned closer to her face and lowering his voice for effect, "I'm not bound by any law but the Council's. If you do decide to make that mistake and I find out, then I will personally hunt you down and drag you back to the Citadel, kicking and screaming, and make sure you never see the inside of a ship or the expanse of space again. You understand?"
Hmm.
Olivia thought it was an overly exerted show of manhood on his part, but she resigned to her fate. A simple threatening ultimatum or a simple extortion threat would have sufficed.
"I understand, Spectre." she eyed the ceiling in exasperation again, "I'll tell you whatever you want to know, just don't implicate me in the process."
"None of that 'Spectre' nonsense, just call me Shepard," he nodded and offered her a hand, "and we have an understanding, Ms. Marcellus?"
She eyed the outstretched hand as if it were tainted eezo.
Olivia Marcellus was a pirate; had been for as long as she could remember: she knew never to seal a deal with a physical handshake. If she hadn't learned anything in the course of her pirate's life; that was the one thing she'd learned through experience. It was also a rookie gesture; your enemy could draw you in and shove a knife in your belly faster than you could react. She'd made that move long ago and still had the vertical scar that was covered with a tattoo of the symbol of her ship for a reminder. It was always implied with a copasetic nod that the deal maker would hold to their end of the bargain. If not, then it resulted in their death.
But Olivia wasn't planning to leave this empty handed. Oh no. She was going to get something from this deal. Freedom was one thing and the one thing that had been the most important to her next to breathing, but she had her own personal issues to deal with.
She threw the only thing on the table that had been in the forefront of her mind for a year now.
"You want information, right?" he nodded, "so return the gesture by allowing me access to the Council's database. I need to find someone." She coolly folded her arms over her chest, challenging the commander, "and then we'll have an understanding, Mr. Spectre."
Shepard arched his eyebrow in response and Olivia could see it through his eyes that he was juggling the idea around in his head. She didn't understand the hesitation: there was a mutual benefit. He wanted information on Saren; she wanted information on her brother's affairs and his illegal weapons business on the rock only known as Omega.
In her mind it was a win-win scenario.
To her surprise he nodded and stuck out his hand again. She eyed the hand and the man behind it for a moment, contemplating if this was even a good idea to begin with since the terms were accepted so readily and easily. Eventually, she grabbed his hand and squeezed awkwardly, the gesture not one she was used to.
Just as she thought things were stabilizing and she could get on to more pressing matters, something hit her in the head like a ton of bricks.
How in the spirits did he know I had information on Saren?
Olivia nervously fiddled with the locket, wondering if he'd found a way to access it without using her DNA. Unless she'd bled somehow, which the original inspection of the back of her head negated. So she knew there was no way he would be able to access it. But then again she was alive, free from the brig, not in cuffs, and he had bargained with her ever so threateningly.
Which brought her to assertion number two: Garebear must've squealed. She thought that for once in their history he did believe her and if this was the Spectre the General had told her about that had been dispatched by the Council to bring the ingrate to justice; then she was right where she needed to be.
But how would she convince him that a galactic criminal would be useful on the Alliance vessel?
She knew that Spectre or no Spectre – turian or not – unless you were the recently deceased Nihlus Kryik, Saren's second-in-command, or his deceased brother, Desolas Arterius, or her, you weren't getting near him with a ten foot pole.
And it was at that moment, she had a stroke of genius.
Olivia devised a plan to use herself as the bargaining chip to grant her passage. She was a wealth of information on Saren, most of it coming from the files on the locket, the other – personal experience. She also knew that if this man standing before her expected to catch Saren, who was currently missing in action aboard Sovereign, he would need her as the leverage to lure him out of the sentient creature's belly. And when Shepard did and Saren came out of hiding, she would bypass the Spectre and extend her own brand of vengeance for his role in her mother's death, his role in Nihlus's death, and putting out the kill order for her.
An Eye for an Eye. The perfect plan.
But as the gears in her head churned, something else was bothering her.
"By the way," she tilted her head in Shepard's direction, "how did you know I had information?"
Shepard chuckled. "Besides Garrus explaining your dilemma and your little 'altercation' in the shuttle bay, our onboard doctor was worried that you might have suffered a concussion. Because she is a doctor first, she did an MRI and the results uncovered that something had-"
"-imprinted files in my brain that I can access in a conscious state like an AI can access cached files?" Olivia interrupted while Shepard sat down next to her on the uncomfortable bed.
"You were awake, I assume?" Shepard placed his hands on his knees, his eyes trained on her.
Olivia shook her head slowly and snorted. "No, the Papaverus running through her veins prevented that. I've just heard it all before. I went to see a doctor on the Citadel and she pretty much said the same thing."
"Oh." Shepard breathed with raised eyebrows.
She smirked and crossed her legs with a warning. "You know, the info you seek could start a galactic war with humanity at the tip of the spear."
"Yeah, how?" He gave her a scrutinizing look.
Olivia took in a breath and crossed her arms, allowing her eyes settle on the floor. After a moment, she closed her eyes and searched her mental filing cabinet for the corresponding files. Once retrieved, she opened her eyes and turned to Shepard.
"The most recent set of files are journal entries from a doctor named Shu Qian. He was with your military, working on illegal AI research in a secure facility on Sidon. Not only was he helping with creating an AI for the Alliance, which is illegal I might add, he was researching some odd artifact."
Shepard shrugged half-heartedly. "What happened on Sidon is common knowledge. From what I remember, Saren snitched the incident to the Council and we offered intervention to prevent a diplomatic incident. My mentor was involved with that."
I nodded. "And you're right. It is common knowledge. But what they didn't say was that the high-profile operation was continued and moved to Camala because of a batarian named Edan Had'dah, who began to fund the project for the hegemony. Besides the batarian's involvement, Qian wrote in his entries that the artifact itself might have even pre-dated the Protheans themselves.
"Eventually, the artifact changed him, both of them, actually. And once the Council learned of this, Saren robbed the doctor of his research and killed them both. The last entry that was salvaged classified the artifact as Reaper tech," She threw her hands up, palms forward, in one of those distinct turian gestures, "like I know what a 'reaper' is."
"Wait," Shepard's eyebrow arched and he straightened, "Reaper Tech? Matriarch Benezia mentioned the return of a sentient race called the 'Reapers' in a recording I presented to the Council," he turned to her, "Do the files mention anything about this artifact being a conduit, since that's what we know he's searching for now?"
She shook her head slowly, still reeling in the grogginess. "Nothing about the artifact being a 'conduit'. But in retrospect, if the Alliance had followed Council laws, then they wouldn't have had to send Saren in to intervene and he wouldn't have stolen the research on the Reaper tech. That's what makes this shit so sensitive. It plainly puts the blame on the Alliance for what's going on with Saren now. It could get you booted from the Spectres."
"That might be true," Shepard nodded in bitter acknowledgment, "and there's no getting around that as facts are facts. But I'm not part of that. I'm just a soldier who got the honor of being the first human Spectre and thrown in at the right place and the right time. Whatever happened then, it's now my duty to fix it now."
"Spectre…," she mulled warily, "this is precisely the reason why Saren is after me. I know too much."
"I assume you stole that locket from Saren somehow?" Shepard interrupted with an accusing tone.
"No." She immediately rolled her eyes in annoyance at the insinuation.
Olivia never understood why everyone she encountered assumed the word 'pirate' was synonymous with 'thief'. Yes, it was true that she happily pillaged for her own personal agenda as a thief would, but she was far from generic. She didn't pillage unnecessarily, kept the innocent out of the line of fire, and was honest about her intentions when asked, not underhanded and sneaky like her best friend and sometimes rival, Mimi.
She was a space pirate, huge difference.
Olivia took a breath and began her lengthy explanation. "During the Relay 314 incident and until her death, my mada - er- mother," she struggled with the endearing term to his amusement, "was a part of Blackwatch as a reconnaissance specialist; a small team of exceptionally skilled Special Ops turian soldiers. Since Saren's fra-ugh-brother," damnit, Livvy, you know English, "Desolas, was labeled as a traitor to the turian race posthumously for his actions on Palaven during the incident, Saren was constantly monitored by the hierarchy and by Blackwatch. I don't know how she got any of the files, but she did. I mean, it was her locket before she died."
"How did she die? Your mother, I mean?" Shepard asked.
Despite the comforting tone rolling off his tongue, she ground her teeth in anger since the memory was yet another open wound. Sometimes she wondered how she still had enamel because every time she got angry, she ground her teeth. It was an old habit she picked up from the General, she supposed.
"Saren was tipped off that she had the files and he killed her in cold blood, just like he did my innup…uh…what you would consider a," she rolled her hand, searching for the right term, "…uh…god…father?"
"I'm-" Shepard began, but she interrupted him.
"Don't." Olivia shook her head, "What I need is that bastard's head on a platter for all the pain he's caused my family."
Shepard nodded in acknowledgement and he turned back to her. "Well with that said, you're in luck."
"What does that mean?" Olivia gracefully hopped off the bed and headed for the med bay doors, the throbbing in her head now down to a tolerable dull ache.
Shepard stayed quiet and flashed her a crooked smirk.
Oh boy.
"I have something better for you….something that you might just enjoy more than returning to the Terminus."
Olivia casually leaned back against the door and folded her arms. Nothing would have been more enjoyable than piracy and her freedom, but she allowed the Spectre the benefit of the doubt.
"Yeah, and what's that?"
He rose from his position and clasped his hands behind his back. Olivia found it quite humorous that he was being so outwardly formal with her and by association the Alliance Navy and the Council. She knew Saren was a menace to galactic society, but how deep did the rabbit hole actually go if he needed a criminal? She could just imagine the bile rising in his throat. Though, the pirate did understand the gesture. It was ingrained in him just as it had been ingrained in her, both being of military backgrounds. She was just a rebel and just didn't care.
Not that the display of goodwill means shit to me.
He began, albeit very slowly, "As a representative of the Systems Alliance and the Special Recon-"
Olivia interrupted him with a flick of the wrist. "Spare me the formalities and keep your honor. I'm a pirate. I just don't care."
It looked as though a weight was lifted from his shoulders and he relaxed. Then in a surprising move, he firmly planted his hand on the door, right next to her head. When he locked eyes with her she smiled coyly; there were ten different ways she could have taken him down and he would have only seen three coming.
"Alright, how about this then: what if I say that you can have your revenge if you joined the crew of the Normandy? You could stay here under my protection or," he shrugged nonchalantly, "you can return to your life on the run from a Spectre that will most definitely kill you before we get to him. Your choice."
Just as I expected.
As ecstatic as she was that she'd played her cards right, she wasn't one to be fooled by a snake charmer. Although, getting under the resident turian's plates was a positive that would make this all worthwhile. She could just see the look on his face when Shepard announced that she'd be on the ship for an extended amount of time.
A coy smirk tugged at the corners of her lips as she poked a finger in his armor. "I'll join your little motley crew only if I get to kill Saren herself."
Shepard chuckled with a glint of mirroring mischief in that sea of blue. "You'll have to duke it out with Vakarian and Wrex on that one."
Olivia laughed for the first time in what felt like forever. Aside from the other name mentioned, whom of which she didn't know just yet, she just couldn't see Garrus viciously wanting blood. I'll admit, he was damn good at his job as a gumshoe for C-Sec and definitely a man dedicated to upholding the law, although his methods were a little questionable by protocol standards. He was harmless. A little rough around the edges, but like…teddy bear harmless. That's where her nickname of 'Garebear' came from.
Finally, she nodded.
"Good. Before you settle in, you need to understand that you are now a part of this team and I am the authority. When I give you a command, you will honor that. When I say shoot, you shoot. Are we clear?"
"Crystal."
Her hand had stealthily slithered to the holo lock on the door and opened the doors, gracefully sliding out of his way.
Shepard cursed under his breath and stumbled into the mess, barely catching his balance before he face planted into the unforgiving metal. He shot her angrily narrowed eyes over his shoulder and she placed her hands defiantly on her hips.
"Understand one thing Spectre," the coy space pirate said through a chuckle, "I'm not part of your 'team'," she used finger quotes to emphasize, "I'm not part of your little 'crew'. Nor am I allied with the Alliance or the Council. I'm here for one reason and one reason only: to kill Saren. No more, no less. So understand that, you dig?"
Growling in annoyance, he turned to her and clasped his hands behind his back again, a gesture of his that she could only assume was his defense mechanism. She could plainly see that he was annoyed with her by the stiffness of the gesture, but she didn't care. If everything crumbled around her tomorrow, that look he gave her would have made it tolerable.
"Fine." annoyed indeed, "If you need your effects, take the elevator down to the shuttle bay. Your locker is the second one in from the left. When you want to sleep, there are the cryogenic pods. This is the mess hall and stocked with MREs whenever you want to grab a bite but we eat together at eighteen hundred hours for dinner. Take the time to settle in, orient yourself, and meet me in the comm room in an hour for debriefing with the crew on your recruitment. Until that time comes and I deem it safe, you will be under supervision."
He turned on his heel without another word and marched rigidly up the stairs. Olivia crossed her arms in amusement and knew this 'debriefing' would probably become a three-ringed circus, opening the proverbial Pandora's Box of issues with her roaming the ship and causing hell. Not that she would per se, there's enough enlisted here for her to behave. Somewhat. And she had her suspicions that Garrus would be on the job, watching her fuckin' every move anyway.
That's going to be problematic, but I'll burn that little bridge later.
The scheme to get Garrus off her case was on her mind as she boarded the elevator to the shuttle bay. Deep down inside, she hoped like hell that there was someone else on this cruiser that didn't have the stick shoved up their ass like Garrus and Shepard that she could casually shoot the shit with until this blew over, but she knew it was wishful thinking at best.
The newly assembled crew of the Normandy watched Commander Shepard asses them from his spot against the FTL communicator in the War Room. He was scanning over his band of misfits and noted that despite his Alliance ties, he'd gathered quite the antithetic and colorful group of people if he did say so himself. There was a young quarian on Pilgrimage, a turian ex C-Sec detective, a krogan bounty hunter, two alliance marines, and one space pirate.
He knew that if he hadn't been a Spectre, this wouldn't happen and the Alliance would bury him alive for thinking of having galactic degenerates and non-humans on his ship, but he didn't care. He wanted to bring Saren to justice, no matter the cost. And if the Alliance had anything to say about it, then he'd just tell them to go fuck off.
To everyone's amusement, Garrus was the first one to break the awkward silence.
"Are you sure Olivia can be trusted? I mean, she's a pirate for Spirit's sake." he poked an accusatory talon in her direction, but his voice stayed neutral.
In her defense, Urdnot Wrex snorted dismissively. "And I'm a bounty hunter working for the Shadow Broker, turian." He said the latter with an acidic tone. "But if Shepard trusts her, then it should be good enough for you. Hell, that's good enough for me."
Across the room, Olivia shook her head at the turian's insistence to mar her name to anyone who would hear him out.
"How do you know this?" the question came from Ashley, who couldn't help but give Olivia curious looks.
I'll have to deal with this one, Olivia thought, I'm sure of it. But for now, the simple version.
"Because," Olivia gestured between herself and Wrex, "we might be outlaws, criminals, professional guns-for-hire, and whatever negative epithets you can conjure. That doesn't mean we don't have our own personal set of moral codes and rules we live by."
Garrus leaned forward. "I was under the impression that you don't have morals."
Tali'Zorah, the young quarian, decided to jump on the defense of Olivia train wreck as Olivia face-palmed.
"She's not as bad as you are making her seem, detective. Ms. Marcellus helped me to Dr. Michel's clinic before I set out to find Fist and I might have died if she hadn't helped me."
"In addition to that," Olivia mirrored Garrus's frustration, "I was the one that gave you the lead to Chloe. Without that, you wouldn't have known shit about Shepard, we wouldn't all be sitting here, and he wouldn't be the first human Spectre. So you owe me…dacha."
"Wait a minute here," Shepard raised his hand to interject, "so you're saying that it was you who led Garrus to Dr. Michel?"
Olivia shrugged as she had put two and two together in the time up to the debriefing. "Sounds like it." she nodded as she eyed everyone's confused glances with a shrug. "Yeah, I guess."
Shepard shifted his stance. "Please explain, because I think we all want to know."
"O…kay." Olivia took in a breath. "I was headed to the Presidium's lower markets to pick up the false ID that would get me past Customs and off the Citadel when I spotted Tali. She was bleeding profusely, delirious, and wandering the hallways, muttering something about Saren while begging someone to help her." Olivia could hear Tali snort, validating the statement. "Of course, no one ever cares about quarians because they are labeled as vagrants and 'suit rats' and most people are fuckin' stupid."
Olivia intentionally glared at Garrus and directed her sarcasm his way, "so the pirate, with no fuckin' morals whatsoever you say, took a side route, and carried her, over her shoulder, to the upper wards and into Chloe's clinic. Then I stayed long enough to overhear her talking about that recording and finding Fist. If I hadn't, Garrus wouldn't have intercepted me and I would have been long gone."
Kaidan chimed in as he leaned forward. "Wait, you just gave him the lead?"
Garrus spoke in her stead. "I had just been handed the case on Saren when Chellick and I had been called down to investigate a shooting involving her and a few of Fist's thugs. When we arrived on the scene, I spotted Olivia, who fit the description of the suspect, headed for the docking bays. I caught up to her and in exchange for her freedom, she gave me the lead."
"You let her go because she just gave you information? No less than six hours earlier you wanted to arrest her and put her behind bars." Shepard shifted his stance and Olivia nodded.
Garrus shrugged. "Oh, don't get me wrong, she deserves to be arrested for other reasons." Olivia snorted and Garrus continued unfazed, "But here's the thing: she mentioned she had a lead to information on Saren. Remember, Spectre files are classified and I was desperate for information."
"Alright, I get that NOW," again Olivia focused her growing aggravation towards Garrus, "but tell me why no more than half an hour later C-Sec was on my ass and I hadn't done anything?"
Again, Garrus shrugged and gave her one of those bratty smirks that could be mistaken for a snarl, which aggravated her further because she couldn't pin which was which, especially with Garrus.
"I have no clue. I never put out the call. Maybe Chellick did. You know he loved to antagonize you."
"Likely story." she rolled her eyes. "Although I have never, ever failed you or Chel in the past when you two needed something like information that you couldn't obtain, you still don't trust me because I'm a pir-ate." Olivia said the latter in an angry, singsong manner.
"No," Garrus shot back coolly, "I don't trust you because you are known for stabbing people in the back."
Olivia shot out of her chair to her feet, visibly affronted and growling. "I've never ONCE stabbed YOU or CHEL in the BACK. Sure, I've lied to you, led you on chases to catch me, and made your life utterly miserable. But not ONCE have I ever stabbed YOU or CHEL in the back. EVER. TAKE that back TURIAN!"
Ashley nudged Kaidan's shoulder and whispered, "This is like a galactic soap opera. I'm loving it."
Kaidan nodded and Olivia stood there with her hand on the butt of her pistol impatiently waiting for Garrus to retract his statement. The room fell so silent you could hear a pin drop as everyone in attendance watched in a mixed reaction of horror and amusement, the latter mostly Wrex.
After a moment, Garrus dipped his head slightly and sighed.
"You've made your point, Olivia." she nodded in approval and sat back down. It seemed as though the humans exhaled a collective held breath as Garrus continued, "you haven't stabbed me in the back per se, but you are a habitual liar, you even said so yourself."
Olivia narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to retort and Shepard intervened, "Regardless, she's a part of this crew for the mission and whatever she is won't affect her performance or behavior." He rubbed his forehead tiredly, "Any other concerns that need to be addressed?"
The room fell silent yet again. Garrus sat back into his seat, his mandibles flickering, his eyes narrowed into slits in Olivia's direction. Kaidan and Ashley were staring at Olivia in something between confusion and horror. Tali and Wrex were unreadable since Tali was hidden behind a mask and Wrex was just…well…krogan. Olivia was the only one making a sound as she was tapping her foot impatiently against the floor and eyeing the ceiling.
"Scuttlebutt's right, sir. Can we trust her?" Ashley eventually turned back to the commander.
"Yes we can. I have her word." Shepard smirked as he changed the subject, "Now since we are all on the same page, Ms. Marcellus, please explain to them why I put my reputation on the line for you."
Olivia reiterated to her new crewmates what she had explained to Shepard in the med bay – strategically leaving out the Alliance sensitive information and any allusion to her background and during the explanation, something occurred to her.
This is gonna be fan-fuckin-tastic.
Olivia mentally noted that being on the Normandy would be similar to being an alcoholic in a rehab program. It was an Alliance vessel, so there was probably no Jack Daniels No. 7, let alone any controlled substances and she couldn't indulge in her usual vices. In other words, she was ostensibly being forced to play by the rules. But Olivia's aim in life was to misbehave and she meant to shatter those rules into little pieces.
The moment she was finished explaining herself, Kaidan turned to her, those big brown eyes of his filled to the brim with sympathy.
"That's got to be a great load to bear. How do you cope with it all?"
"Perseverance, determination to save your own ass, and a shit-ton of alcohol." Olivia joked and Wrex's deep chuckle sounded from the other side of the room.
Kaidan, Ashley, and Tali stifled little chuckles and Shepard cleared his throat, bringing the chatter to a minimum.
"Listen up, people. Right now we are en route to recruit, and possibly rescue, an asari doctor that specializes in Prothean archaeology. She might know something about the conduit but with Olivia's information, we know now that the Reapers are definitely involved and that they are a viable threat."
Everyone nodded in a copasetic understanding and Shepard held his hand up. "Garrus, Olivia, you two stay behind for mission briefing. Everyone else is dismissed."
The rest of the crew filtered out and Shepard addressed the two sets of confused looks standing before him.
"I specifically chose you two as my first ground team for the mission because I want to see your particular skills in action." He turned to the brooding turian, "Garrus, can I trust you to work with her amicably or do I have to sit you out on this one?"
The turian's eyes wandered from Olivia to Shepard. "If it means I get to see some action then I suppose it wouldn't hurt." he then folded his arms and lowered his eyes. "But I still don't quite trust her yet."
"What. Ever. Dacha." Olivia placed her hands on her cocked hips and turned away as she was unable to look the turian in the eyes and not be tempted to smack the shit out of him.
"That's good enough for me." Shepard then turned to Olivia. "Ensign Silas Crosby is outside the doors and he will be monitoring you. Since you used to have your own ship, go talk shop with our flight lieutenant Joker. He might have a need for you in the helm. Garrus, you stay in the shuttle bay. I want you two as far away from each other as possible."
Olivia pursed her lips at being treated like a child on a ship she could probably drive into hell, but nodded in understanding. He then turned back to Garrus. "Make sure the Mako is ready for its first mission. I need the cannon and the machine gun ready for a fight."
The commander nodded one last time in their general direction. "You two are dismissed."
Garrus straightened up and saluted the right way, like the kiss ass turian Olivia knew he was. In contrast, she shot the commander that two-fingered and half-assed salute she always gave the General then she turned on her heel and left the room.
En route to her destination, it became all too weird. A pirate, free to roam on an Alliance ship? Squeeeee…so much trouble I can get into if I can shake the hall monitor.
Olivia couldn't finish her thought as the moment she rounded the corner from the FTL Room and into the CIC, balding man who looked like he'd seen better days, greeted her with an overly eager outstretched hand.
"Name's Pressly, Charles Pressly," he said energetically as Olivia neared, "I'm the XO and the navigator on this ship. I heard the news so, welcome aboard."
Olivia knew she had to bury her concerns with the mundane action of hand-shaking. People not usually galactic degenerates like herself (or Mimi when she felt like being overly bitchy) greeted people with hugs or outstretched hands and it was annoying as hell. At least it was handshakes this time; Olivia really didn't know what to do if a hug were involved. On the other hand she figured, when in Rome…
Olivia took the outstretched hand, gripping it tighter and more awkwardly than she'd intended but better than earlier. "My name's Olivia. Olivia Marcellus."
Pressly nodded and returned to the panel in front of him. "Olivia, hmm? It's nice to see more humans aboard the ship, even though you're a pirate and a demisang. Were you raised on Earth or Palaven?"
She chuckled and crossed her arms, leaning against the metallic surface with a bemused expression on her face. Just by the acidity in his voice when he mentioned the word, she could tell that he harbored a case of xenophobia and probably because of the treaty. And she could bet that he'd played a part in it somehow, hence the xenophobia. With his weathered features and whatever hair he still had graying, he seemed like he'd be about the age.
"Let's just say that I'm a colony kid."
Pressly nodded, acknowledging her complete dodge of the question. "I understand. Colonial life is rough." He paused briefly. "By the way, I heard the Commander assigned you to the helm." the XO leaned closer to her and hushed his voice to barely above a whisper, "Let me give you a nickel's worth of free advice: the flight lieutenant is an asshole. Don't take anything he says seriously."
She smiled coyly at her frowning babysitter. "If he's anything like the pilot for the Rose, where I was Captain, then he shouldn't be a problem."
Crosby rolled his eyes in response.
"I understand. If you need anything else, just let me know." Pressly replied, accompanied with a nod.
Olivia shot him a one of her smirks and continued her journey with Crosby dutifully trailing a considerable distance behind her. The moment she crossed the threshold of the helm, her ears were greeted by the raspy and sardonic voice of who she assumed was the flight lieutenant, Joker.
"Our resident gossip king tells me that you're a pirate? Is 'arrrr matey' in your vocabulary because I heard it's all the rage in the pirating world these days?"
Olivia snorted and sat down in front of the co-pilot's panel, legs crossed, and her elbow on her knee.
"No, it's not," her tone was as sarcastic as she could possibly muster, "I don't have a talking parrot, a peg leg, or an eye patch either. But you? How about a nice big cup of shut the fuck up?"
"Touché." Joker turned to me, "You're alright in my book."
"And what book is that, the book of Horrible Jokes and Comebacks, Vol. 1?" Olivia teased lightly, her grin widening as she could see the gears in his head working with a comeback.
"No," Joker eventually shot her a pointed finger, his words dripping in sarcasm, "but my faaaavorite book on the extranet is 'Pirates and How They Get Caught by ex C-Sec Detectives on Alliance Vessels'."
"Damn, I thought you'd get on me for the accent and the fact that I'm a demisang." She said in a flirtatious manner.
She half expected the flight lieutenant to scold her, since the Alliance was such a stiff organization and worse than the turians most days. But he didn't. He smiled and returned the flirt.
"You're accent is sexy, actually. But you do have bad enunciation though. You gotta fix that."
"Keep talking, you might just say something funny one day." Olivia shot back.
They both broke out in a roar of laughter so loud that Olivia was sure someone heard it all the way down in the engine room. For a moment, albeit a brief moment for her, it did feel good to be in the presence of a like-minded individual and someone who shared her tactless sense of humor. She was like the turian flower that her mother had named her after, opening herself slowly as the sun rose in the distance. Olivia almost felt free. Free of her past, free of Saren, and free of the life she'd come to love.
But as her eyes settled on the holoscreen in front of her and Joker went through the Normandy 101 lecture in his teaching manner, not leaving out that this was his ship since he was the 'best goddamn pilot in the Alliance fleet,' and I better help him keep that award', that little bitch in her head reminded her that she was just here to kill Saren. She reminded herself that she shouldn't get involved, since she was notorious for having bad luck in that arena.
Nothing more, Nothing less.
However, she did make an unspoken promise to her crew. Her brother, Marcus, would pay handsomely for all the anguish he caused her crew, her, and her family. After she took out Saren, she planned to hunt him down and end his life in the most tortuous way possible.
If she left this alive….
A/N:
Ashley's quote: "Ours not to reason why, ours but to do and die." – Alfred Lord Tennyson
dacha – Extremely large crocodilians, about three times the size of a modern Nile crocodile. Name taken from Dakosaurus.
Please provide feedback. Thanks. XOXO