Batarians were truly hideous creatures.

Faith couldn't quite decide what feature was worst. The four black, flinty eyes that promised only hate. The faces coated in a thin layer of bristly hair, like some wild beast. The needle teeth, better suited to a scavenger than a predator. Or perhaps it was not their only looks, but their cultural demands of piracy and slavery that had led to her childhood trauma... whatever the answer, they inevitably turned her stomach.

When the rage wasn't pounding through her, of course.

It spun around on the spot at an imagined noise, panic written across its features. A curious pleasure warmed her as she drank in the batarian's terror: they were brave when bombarding a planet from orbit, or when surrounded by a team of bloodythirsty squadmates... but kill those allies and that bravado miraculously disappeared.

There was a small temptation to let him stew in his misery for a little longer, but she firmly stamped it out. She would not indulge her anger that way.

With a mental shrug she squeezed the trigger of her rifle, a tiny effort that echoed a single crack through the ruins of the Palace.

The batarian dropped to the ground, sporting a messy hole in its head.

Faith nodded to herself in silent satisfaction at the clean kill. 'Last target down,' She intoned without emotion into her comm, stepping from the shadows she had used to conceal herself. Luring an entire batarian patrol into the ruins of the Palace had led to a thrilling game of cat-and-mouse as the twenty batarians were picked off one by one by Shepard and her asari allies; it would probably be a good few minutes before the next batarian team arrived, and with any luck the asari military would be on scene at that time as well, so Shepard ordered them to regroup.

'How much longer until the shuttle arrives?' Shiala asked, venting the heat sink in her Apostle rifle. She'd been relying on firearms during the fighting due to her reduced mobility and unreliable biotics, but she was still a fine marksman and had racked up an impressive body count as the team held the ruined Palace against the batarians.

'About ten minutes,' Shepard replied, checking her own weapons. 'I ordered some specialist gear be loaded so it's taking a little longer.'

Aethyta pumped her fists - flaring with biotics at their tips - together, the colliding fields sparking brightly. 'Feels good to let loose, give these bastards what they deserve.' The matriarch fixed Faith with a burning auburn gaze. 'You'd better let me come with you, Shepard. No way I'm staying down here after they bombed my planet.'

Aethyta, as opposed to Shiala, had been demonstrating why asari matriarchs were considered amongst the strongest beings in the galaxy. Her biotics were terrifying like none Shepard had ever seen: Liara's were strong, but the maiden typically used gravitational and kinetic effects to disable her enemies whilst Aethya, face twisted in rage, would reave at their very bodies, warping them into unrecognisable amalgams of flesh and armour. Aethyta apparently had no sense of completion in ensuring her kills were quick either, and more than once the others had shot the ruined, mewling flesh the matriarch had not quite killed. Whilst she lacked the pure power that Samara and Jack had wielded, the sheer brutality in her fighting showed that the galaxy had a lot to be thankful for, that the asari were on average more restrained than the matriarch.

Shepard nodded. She was concerned that Aethyta might be overextending herself - she was already looking slightly out of breath - but the asari was both powerful and clearly had some previous military experience: a boon on what would surely be a deadly and dangerous assault. Not to mention Aethyta did not look ready to accept "no" as an answer. 'You can come, but once we're on the ship you'll have to follow my orders, and rein in your biotics. We can't risk blowing out a bulkhead.'

The matriarch scowled, biotics flaring, but nodded. 'Yeah, yeah. Follow the soldier, I got it.'

'Good.' She shifted her gaze to Shiala. Shepard had only fought asari commandos a small handful of times, but the experience was never pleasant. Centuries of experience, full teams of biotics working in tandem and gear that made even N7 grade equipment look like amateur replicas meant nobody came away from combat with them unscathed. Shiala was very good even without her biotics, but was severely hampered by her mobility problems. In the tight confines of a ship where the team would need to move swiftly, she would be a liability.

The commando caught Faith's eyes with a defiant, sickly green glare that told Shepard she knew that truth... before she scowled and looked to the floor. 'I... know I can't come.'

'I'm sorry, Shiala.' Faith hated that she never seemed to be able to say anything positive to the commando... and yet Shiala took every demoralising blow on the chin and kept going. Shepard wished she'd known her in a better time. 'There's still a lot to be done down here; people to evacuate, and pockets of invaders to deal with,' she added.

'I know.' The commando's face broke into something of a smile. 'When the mi-military gets here, they're probably going to ask where I got this gear.'

Shepard smiled shortly in return. 'Best not to tell them it's from a human ship orbiting your planet in stealth.'

Liara, working a shoulder which had taken a bullet - stopped by her barrier, but still sore - joined the conversation, her voice muted in the midst of the carnage. 'I suppose I should claim responsibility. The military suppliers were more resistant to selling to an outside party than I anticipated - not that it mattered in the end.'

'It's kinda scary when you say stuff like that, kid,' Aethyta quipped, inspecting her Disciple shotgun. 'Not that I'm not appreciative, always loved this model. And these leathers?' She stretched tall and looked over her shoulder, forcing the tight material against her body. 'Makes an aging ass look pretty damned good.'

'Father... that is not-'

'Just pullin' yer crests, kid. My ass was already fantastic.'

Liara's eyes widened, a soft blush creeping across her cheeks even as Shiala chuckled and Faith felt some of her tension leave her. Though it wasn't her thing, years of military life had drilled into her the value of humour to troop morale. She was glad that the matriarch's disarming manner was distracting the other asari from the ruins of what had not too long ago been a beacon of their people's strength and beauty. I guess living so long helps you decide just what people need.

Liara moved her to hide her face behind a risen hand, before stopping and smiling in resignation. 'Well, I am glad you like them.'

Shepard glanced at her omni-tool, scanning the information EDI was feeding to her. 'Looks like we've got another wave incoming. Our backup should arrive in a couple of minutes as well, and the asari military's finally getting itself in gear.'

Far above, the sky was popping with dogfights: batarian fighters and asari interceptors battling for air supremacy as the invasion shuttles powered to the surface. A few were blown out of the sky, but not nearly enough, and batarians stalked the ruined ground, scouring for Shepard. The police had completely cordoned off a wide area and were awaiting military reinforcements before moving in to evict the invaders.

The soldier looked up, eyeing the local battlefield with a practiced eye. Eventually, she pointed to a spot on the matriarchs' old dais that looked structurally sound. 'Shiala and Liara, up there. Aethyta and I will draw them in and engage.'

The team nodded, and quickly moved to position, Liara helping the commando up the ruined structure.

Shepard and Aethyta were making their way across the hall, when the matriarch glanced sideways. 'You alright?'

Faith raised a brow in return, though the gesture was hidden by her helmet. 'You mean my ear? I've had worse. I'd rather not lose it, but there's always ways to replace bits and pieces.'

Aethyta shook her head. 'Not what I meant. Doesn't take a damned psychologist to see you've got a real problem with batarians, and not just 'cos of what they're doing here.'

Shepard frowned, biting back an instinctive denial. 'Maybe. But it doesn't matter here.'

'Uh-huh?'

The soldier stopped walking. 'You doubt me?'

Aethyta shrugged. 'Not my business how you feel, just making sure your head's on straight.'

Shepard took a deep breath, keeping herself from snapping a retort. The matriarch's words had hit a little too close to home - she'd been wondering the same thing about her plan to board the batarian ship, but had no room for self doubt. It is a good plan.

She forced her voice neutral. 'If you think I'd risk the mission, my friends, and Liara, for my own feelings you're dead wrong about me. Yes, I've got a real problem with batarians. Maybe one day I'll tell you why. But don't doubt my motivations about my work.'

Aethyta's eyes widened, and she opened her mouth... then shut it again. 'Damn. Sorry, that was pretty shitty of me.'

Faith grunted, then ratcheted her shotgun. 'Don't worry about it. You ready to kill something?'

'Fuck yes.'

As Aethyta flared her biotics, savage grin working its way across her face, Shepard spared another glance upwards, imagining the titanic dreadnought orbiting the planet, belching drop ships and fighters to raid this beautiful planet.

What are the batarians thinking?


Captain Ka'hairal Balak narrowed his four eyes on the datapad his slave had handed him, skimming over the notes of fleet movements, soldier assignments and government authorisations.

It was ridiculous. Infuriating.

The whole First Fleet was gone. And nobody under his command seemed to know where it was. A whole damned fleet, thousands of men, and their brand new dreadnought, had been sent out without him knowing.

It wasn't the first time parts of the military had been deployed without going through the normal chain of command. For months now soldiers were sent out on missions nobody would talk about, fleets were deployed in unusual locations, supplies shipped to areas thought uninhabited.

And he knew nothing about it. His soldiers were professionals: they would follow the orders. But they weren't stupid, and knew something strange was happening across the whole of the Hegemony.

As a Captain he wasn't exactly top of the chain of command, but he was Captain of the Special Intervention Unit; the best of the best, and commanded more respect than his rank dictated for his skills in battle - doubly so because he was of the very highest caste and yet treated his soldiers reasonably well when he had no obligation to do so.

Not to mention that directly above him in his division stood only General Hufst, and everybody knew it was only a matter of months before Balak finally usurped that lower-caste bastard who dared to order him about like a slave, taking his rightful place amongst the sixteen Generals of the Hegemony as his upbringing and birth dictated.

'Drink. Strong.' He grunted the words, and his slave, eyes downcast, instantly moved to the bar at the side of his office, pouring him a large measure of a bitter spirit and wordlessly handing it to him. He drained it in one, enjoying the burn down his throat and feeling it calm the worst of his annoyance.

Following the disappearance of the First Fleet, he had begun to dig in earnest, reaching out to those few he thought he could trust, trying to find out what was going on, and the results of his investigation were finally laid out in front of him.

As he read more, a growl began to escape his lips. Orders from the Emperor's palace, mobilising for battle. Without the authorisation or even consultation of any senior military officials outside of his own personal circle. What were they thinking? To mobilise the First Fleet could mean only full scale war, and they'd done it without even telling the soldiers what they were fighting for?

His frustration turned to a deep nervousness he instantly quashed with rage as he neared the end of the report. The First Fleet had been sent to Thessia, to kill or capture the Butcher.

Thessia.

The damned asari homeworld, under attack by a batarian fleet. The orders were terrifyingly scarce: simply ordering the deep cover agents on Thessia to enact the invasion protocols, and then the First Fleet to follow up. No further tactics were listed, no supply chains organised, no media plans, no backup, no anything!

His government was starting an intergalactic war and nobody seemed to know what they hell was going on!

With that last thought he let his growl turn into a furious roar as he hurled the datapad into the wall, causing his slave to duck with a fearful whimper as it shattered above her, raining smouldering shards of plastic and metal over one of the statues displayed proudly around the room. An acrid smoke permeated through the air as she desperately tried to clean up the mess, and pulsing with rage, he took a step towards the door, planning to get Hufst to answer some damn questions… or take him to somebody who knew what was going on.

Hufst was about as incompetent as could be expected of somebody of his caste, and all of the men knew it. How he had ever reached the rank of General was a mystery, and Balak knew his soldiers were eagerly awaiting the day he finally replaced the useless bastard.

Before he'd even crossed half of his richly decorated office, the door opened again and Hufst himself entered. The man was hideous; the skin of his skull a dirty, mottled grey unlike Balak's own beautiful yellow and black stripes, suspicious gimlet eyes, and he was far too short for his position. Balak halted his furious march, and snapped a clean salute. Incompetent Hufst might be, Balak was still a proud batarian soldier and traditions had to be maintained.

Hufst's head drooped to the right; a clear insult to Balak's gesture of respect. He commanded rank over Balak in the military, but in every other aspect of his life he was inferior, and spared no effort in trying to assert his position at every opportunity.

'Captain, your antics can be heard from the corridor. What are you doing in here?' The general looked past Balak to the slave crawling around on the floor, tidying up the remains of the datapad. 'Are you enjoying her on duty?'

'What?' Balak growled, feeling a heavy pounding behind his upper eyes. 'I just found out some idiot sent the First Fleet to attack Thessia! Did you know about this!?'

'Of course.' Hufst replied, as though discussing the slave market.

'And you didn't think it would be worth letting your soldiers know that the whole damned Hegemony would be at war?' The Captain had to resist the urge to bellow the words, to spit in the scum's face at his impetuousness to his social better.

Huft's eyes narrowed, and again his head dropped to the right. 'Mind your tone, Captain. The mission was to capture the Butcher, not start a war with the asari.'

Balak bared his teeth. Was he insane? Had the whole of upper command lost their collective minds? 'You don't think the asari will take an attack on their homeworld as an act of war?'

'It doesn't matter what those blue bitches think!' Hufst insisted, mouth spreading into an insane grin. 'Once we capture the Butcher, we can make her pay for Torfan. Make her pay for Bahak. Make her pay for everything she's done!'

'What?! What does one damned human matter when we've had to bomb the asari homeworld to get her?'

'One...' Hufst's eyes narrowed. 'It's clear you don't see the bigger picture here, Balak. You don't see how important it is that Shepard is taken. The Emperor himself gave the order, and you will fall in line.'

Balak turned away, blood draining from his face, feeling unsteady on his legs. The Emperor himself had given the insane order to spark intergalactic war to capture one human terrorist.

Balak was a soldier: a proud batarian who loved his people and would do anything to strengthen them.

But he was realistic. Their military might be able to stand up against the asari, but they would not be alone. They controlled the whole Council by underhanded economic manipulation - when they weren't busy bedding anything that moved - and so could mobilise the turians, the salarians, even the damned humans in a war. The Hegemony would stand no chance.

All for what? One terrorist? He had lost family on Torfan. One of his sons was executed in cold blood after surrendering. He had friends on Aratoht, and though the humans denied it, it was accepted as fact amongst his people that she was responsible. Balak had as much reason to hate her as any, but to do this?

This was insanity. There was no other word for it. He knew it, and knew his soldiers muttered the same in their barracks. They always looked to him for answers when he had none to give.

What was to be done? Follow these mad orders, to the extinction of the batarian people?

He glanced out of the window of his office, standing high above the streets of Kar'Shan's capital city. Far in the distance he could see the Emperor's newly finished palace on the outskirts. That was where this insanity was coming from, he was sure. His investigations always seemed to lead back there.

The strange military movements had begun as soon as the Emperor moved in, and began holding his strategy councils in there with the government and military officials. All who visited spoke of the oppressive atmosphere, the way everybody acted strangely, the relief whenever they left. The gleaming ebony of its roof shimmered in the brilliant red light of the sun, curving down like the carapace of a giant black insect into sprawling legs that weaved throughout the city.

A strange calm descended on him as he realised what he had to do, for his people. He came to a decision he should have made months ago as Hufst clasped a hand onto his shoulder, growling angrily. 'Don't you dare turn-'

Balak spun and wrapped his hand - suddenly wreathed in brilliant blue fire - around Hufst's throat, the deadly biotic field beginning to flay the General's skin under his touch. Hufst tried to scream, but could not breathe under Balak's brutal grip, the flesh of his neck warping and dissolving, and only a wet gurgle came from a mouth filling with blood. He furiously scrambled at the Captain's hand, but Balak's biotics melted the very flesh from Hufst's fingers as he tried to relieve the grip. Seemingly far away, Balak's slave let out a terrified scream as she tried to crawl away into the corner of the room.

Balak caught the General's eyes as he squeezed tighter, the lower pair bulging, then silently dropped his head to the right in a mockery of Hufst's own insults earlier. With a growl he gave a final tug, tearing away a handful of ruined, warped flesh that dropped the deceased General to the floor. Letting the man's throat slide from his grip, hand dripping with thick, viscous blood, Balak turned his burning gaze to his slave, who was sobbing quietly. 'Get my sergeants on the radio. We have work to do.'

She looked, terrified, to the General's corpse, and Balak's body flared again as he roared out.

'Now!'


'Ha!' Aethyta couldn't help but grin at the decimated pile of invading batarian scum the two teams had trapped in a deadly crossfire. She and Shepard had planned to lure them into the Palace, but when the human's backup squad had shown up...

Well, the cleanup crews would have a hell of a lot of work to do anyway. She counted over thirty bodies, and she hadn't even had to use her biotics on this lot; they had just called everybody forward and gunned the hapless bastards down as they spun to face the threat soaring in from the Kodiak Shuttle above. It wasn't even fighting, really, just... pest control.

As she kicked a batarian whose torso had been reduced to a bullet-ridden mess, she considered the species. Aethyta thought herself somewhat unique amongst her matriarchal colleagues in her thoughts about them. Most of the others bleated the same "every species has something to offer" crap, but secretly imagined the galaxy would be a better place without batarian. In truth, most of them thought the same about at least one of the species out there, not that they would dare admit it in public.

And her? She said it as it was. The batarians most people met were slaving thugs who were better off dead in the ground. But on the other hand, she'd actually seen the batarians in their own worlds - where the majority of slavery was at least partially voluntary batarian-on-batarian done by contract - and while the asari might dress it up nicer with terms like "debt-bondage", their similar practices meant they sure as shit have the right to judge the batarians for it.

Living a thousand years meant she'd seen just about everything the Galaxy had to offer, and if there was one thing that held true it was that shit happens, and that sometimes there just wasn't anything a person could do. So she looked past the slavery and enjoyed the surprisingly beautiful art and music they made, the ancient traditions, the awesome cuisine and, yeah, that wonderfully rough sex. She might make the oh so correct others flinch when she talked about killing the bastards who showed up through most of the galaxy on their raids, but unlike them who wouldn't dare go near one of the people they claimed to accept, you'd find her actually enjoying the best that select parts of the species had to offer too.

Not that that would stop her from tearing these particular batarian fuckers on her planet to pieces.

She shook her head, thinking about Shepard. The human was literally glowing with anger, her eyes lighting up like some damned demon as she slaughtered the aliens with a terrifying ferocity. Aethyta had honestly thought she was in for another thrashing when she'd, in a moment of stupid thoughtlessness, slipped out that comment about her ability to do her job. Somehow, the cold, calculated response was scarier than the explosive retort, or fist to the chin, she'd expected.

Whilst humans - relative newcomers to the galactic community - often showed the same suspicions to those outside of their own kind all newcomers did for the first few centuries, the impression she got of Shepard was that for the most part she didn't much care what species a person was. But those words...

"Maybe some day I'll tell you why"

Made it sound pretty personal. Aethyta vowed to ask Liara what her problem was.

As the shuttle containing Shepard's crew landed, she pulled out the flask of ryncol she'd managed to smuggle into one of the pockets in her leathers. After offering it to Shiala at her side, who shook her head, she took a healthy swig herself as Shepard and Liara strode towards the shuttle. From it hopped a turian, a tiny human in a dark hood, and a quarian, all armed to the teeth and looking ready to kick some ass.

She shook her head with a smile, then took another sip-

And sprayed it across an outraged Shiala's face as a fourth body exited the shuttle.

The biggest human she had ever seen grabbed the rail bar and swung, rocking the whole shuttle as he pitched his weight out of it, eliciting a cry from somewhere within. Ignoring Shiala's wide eyed, shocked face as she tried to wipe the spirit clear, Aethyta jogged forward towards the group, eyes on the human who looked like he was carved from pure, hot, sexy, muscle mass.

The armoured juggernaut of a man slung a huge gun over his shoulder, his legs widely set as he struck a pose worthy of some damned hero, his broad body casting a wide shadow against the setting sun at his back.

He'd not seen her yet - after his eyes took in the sea of slain foes, he met Shepard's gaze to share comfortable nods… and Aethyta shivered like a horny maiden as the jagged scar across his nose and cheek twitched upwards, accentuating his wide, cocky grin. The matriarch gave a predatory smirk.

He's mine.


A/N: Wow... that chapter took a lot longer than I expected! I'm very sorry to keep people waiting, I recently took a holiday and found I quite enjoyed the break from writing - hopefully back on track now :-)

A few notes about the actual story itself...

First, after a bit of a chat with a few readers I've made some minor changes to the previous 2 chapters. The outcome and events are nearly identical, but hopefully the invasion of Thessia seems a little less "easy" - there was more than one explosion to disable the planet's comm traffic, the ship that shot the palace didn't come through the relay but was in the same "holding" area as the Normandy, and the batarian fleet reached Thessia via FTL hops rather than soaring through the space. I hope this all clears up the sequence of events!

Secondly, a small admission: I never played Bring Down the Sky. This meant that in ME3 when Balak showed up, I was presented with a batarian I'd never met who claimed to be the Captain of what was left of the batarian military, with what seemed like a deliciously interesting grudge against Shepard. But then it was over nearly as soon as he appeared, and I was disappointed that the chance for some very interesting interactions was lost. So, here's Balak :-D