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Chapter Text

Docking Station
Freighter transport V-786

Satima stood to the side like a shadow, her heart heavy with regret and sorrow, knowing that her decisions had shattered the fragile bonds of this newfound family. She wanted to live in a lie. Desperate to forge bonds in a family that she knew she didn’t deserve; her heart sank deeper into despair with each passing moment.

Natalie wandered aimlessly along the platform, her eyes bright and curious as she watched the ships come and go, oblivious to the turmoil around her. She was waiting for Shepard to finish her farewells to Garrus.

"Take care on your journey back," she murmured, her voice tinged with sadness. "Give my regards to your father and sister." She managed a faint, melancholic smile as she lingered in his embrace.

Garrus smiled and said, "I will, Charlie," as he leaned in to kiss her.

Natalie made an odd face at it, but kept giving a happy smile to them. She walked closer, grabbing Garrus's taloned hand. "I'll miss you," she said, her voice cracking with emotion. Tears welled up in her eyes as she tried to hold back the sobs.

Garrus gently squeezed her hand, his own heart heavy with sorrow. "I'll miss you too, sweetheart" he whispered, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

Satima watched, arms crossed tightly to her chest. A sick feeling gnawed at the pit of her stomach. She wasn't sure whether she hated this scenario displayed before her, or whether it was the overwhelming guilt eating away at her for ruining their lives. Her heart ached with an unbearable heaviness, each breath she took felt like a burden, suffocating her with the weight of her actions. Tears stung her eyes, but she fought them back, not wanting to expose her pain and remorse. Her entire being was consumed by an agonizing regret, wishing she could turn back time and undo the damage she had caused.

Shepard turned to Satima, her eyes hard and unyielding. "Satima, do you even realize the gravity of your actions?" she began, her voice cold and disciplinary. “Did you not learn anything from the sentarians? You can't afford to be selfish and reckless. You need to understand the responsibility that comes with your choices." Her words were clipped and stern, each one a sharp reminder of the disappointment she felt.

"Of course, I did!" Satima retorted, her voice rising with a mixture of hurt and indignation. "I still do!" She crossed her arms tighter, feeling the sting of Shepard's words.

Shepard moved closer and asked, "Then why did you lie? Why did you delay when the threat is imminent?"

Satima uncrossed her arms, her fists trembling as she clenched them tightly. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her eyes filled with anguish. "Because I wanted this to never end," she confessed, her voice breaking with emotion. "I wanted to pretend I had never left, that you still accepted me as family. The regret I felt when you brought me back... it consumed me. I lied because I couldn't bear the thought of losing this chance again, of losing all of you."

"Satima.", Shepard spoke. "You didn't have to hide the truth to protect us.", she started to chuckle sarcastically. "We've fought the reapers, remember?"

Satima wrapped her arms around herself, her gaze hardening. She closed her eyes briefly before speaking. "I wasn't protecting either of you. I was protecting myself." Her voice grew sharper, "I’m selfish, because I’m jealous of what you two created with her.," she snapped, pointing at Natalie.

Garrus still held Natalie's hand, who had taken a step closer to him with a curious gaze towards Satima. She didn't understand what was going on in front of her, but started to feel sad for the scary woman that saved her life the year before.

Shepard sighed, "You could've just told me this over a month ago."
Satima kept looking away.

The VI announcement echoed around them. "It's time for you to board. We'll keep in touch through vid-comm, after I've taken Natalie to the academy.", Shepard informed.

The atmosphere was heavy with sorrow as the transport slowly departed from the docks. Shepard watched with a sense of growing despair, unable to fathom Satima's hesitation and her actions. She could only hope that her hybrid daughter would break free from her challenges soon before this continued strain of recklessness consumed them.
.........................................................
Citadel
Council Tower

Ronin was stunned to find Satima wandering the backstreets of the lower wards. At first, he thought it might be a trick of the light or his mind playing games, but as he followed her from the dimly lit bar, the reality of the situation hit him hard. There she was, leaning against the alley wall, visibly intoxicated and seemingly lost in her own world. What had driven her to such a state of recklessness?

He discovered the truth the next morning as she sipped his specially-made hangover concoction. Instead of bombarding her with questions or demanding explanations for her abrupt departure, Ronin patiently waited for Satima to open up. His heart ached to interrupt, to pour out his feelings and tell her how deeply he cared for her, how her sudden disappearance had shattered him. Yet, he held back, giving her the space to share her story in her own time, hoping that this delicate moment might mend the rift between them.

The second issue was her appearance; she looked paler than usual, and her head was covered with ginger stubble. Was this her choice? A rebellious move against her family? No, it was something medical, an answer she refused to disclose. Ronin's mind raced with worry as he nodded his head back and forth, confused and anxious while waiting for the council to see him. The sight of Satima in this fragile state gnawed at him, filling him with unease and trepidation.

If only he had more time to speak with her, to unravel the thoughts that weighed heavy on her mind. If he hadn't pushed her out the door so hastily, perhaps things would be different. Jain, of course, would never understand; she harbored a deep dislike for the hybrid. The consequences of driving yet another wedge between them loomed large, and he couldn't risk losing more than he already had.

He sighed aloud, the weight of his words pressing heavily on his conscience. Calling her a hybrid felt like stripping away her identity. The council summoned him. Standing on the petitioner's stage, he waited, his heart pounding, for their next urgent mission.

Tevos leaned forward, her eyes piercing through the dim light. "Have you been debriefed on the Nepmos incident?"

Ronin straightened, feeling the weight of the council's gaze upon him. "Yes, ma'am," he replied firmly, his voice unwavering despite the turmoil within.

Tevos nodded, "The Alliance has the planet under heavy surveillance and nothing has left its surface, save the survivor. That... hybrid.", she informed with disgust. "There is a problem, however, and we need you and another spectre to find it."

"Another spectre?", he asked. "What is this problem?"

Khalee spoke, "Spectre Naramis, we're asking you to follow the last trail of the Endeavor with the help of spectre Williams."

He changed stances, quickly glancing to a keeper then back to the human councilor."Spectre Williams? I know of her. She used to serve on the Normandy."

"Good. The Endeavor left Nepmos after contacting the Alliance about the sentarian vessel crash. We suspect they also were on the crashed ship, briefly, but never told the Alliance whether or not they gained access.", Khalee explained. "With a joint investigation between two different council races, as spectres, it would help the galaxy rest a lot easier."

Ronin raised a plated brow. Something more threatening had to of happened for the council to openly display a search between different races. What's next? A batarian handout? He cleared his throat, "Ma'am, I'm confident spectre Williams and I can find this ship and the truth behind their disappearance."

Khalee nodded with a knowing smile as Tevos concluded the meeting. With a sense of urgency, Ronin made his way to the embassy, where he found Williams engrossed in an article on her omni-tool. She glanced up, her eyes sharp with curiosity. "Spectre Naramis?" she inquired, her voice a blend of surprise and respect.

"That would be me," Ronin replied with a mischievous smirk. "Have you been briefed on the mission?"

Williams closed her omni-tool, stepping closer to Ronin with a determined look. "Absolutely. I'm eager to see where the Endeavor's investigation will take us," she replied, a spark of curiosity in her eyes.

Ashley studied Ronin for a moment, her gaze filled with both respect and reservation. "I've worked alongside a turian before, and I hold Garrus in high regard," she began, her voice steady yet probing. "But I need to know—do you have any issues working with me because I'm human?"

Ronin's eyes widened, a hint of amusement dancing in them as he processed her question. With a smirk, he leaned in slightly, his tone light and playful. "As long as you don't call me dinosaur face, we're good," he chuckled.

Ashley almost choked on her words, taken aback by his playful remark. "Oh... I would never," she stammered, trying to regain her composure.

Ronin's eyes twinkled with mischief. "It's alright. Come on, we have an invisible ship to find. System searching takes time and is extremely boring," he said, his voice filled with enthusiasm and determination.

A smile broke across Ashley's face, and she chuckled, feeling a newfound sense of camaraderie. "Lead the way, Spectre Naramis.”
.........................................................................
Landing platform
Palaven capitol

The landing platform buzzed with life as they touched down in the heart of Palaven's capital. The air was thick with humidity, a stark contrast to the dry climates Satima was used to. It felt almost tropical—a term she had only ever encountered on the extranet. The Sentarian planet bore similarities to Earth, yet it was more balmy, with a palpable moisture that clung to her skin.

As they disembarked, Satima felt a surge of nervous excitement. This was new territory, and the unfamiliar surroundings heightened her senses. She followed closely behind Garrus, who moved with the ease and confidence of someone truly at home. The city's skyline loomed in the distance, a testament to the architectural prowess of the turians. Gleaming structures and intricate designs made up the urban tapestry, each corner bustling with the daily life of Palaven's residents.

Satima's eyes darted around, absorbing the sights and sounds. The people here were different, their mannerisms and interactions unlike anything she had seen before. Yet, there was a shared sense of purpose and community in the turians around her. It was both foreign and comforting at the same time.

Forward she must go, she reminded herself, remaining a step behind Garrus, her unfamiliarity with the territory and its inhabitants making her cautious.

Her thoughts wandered back to the recent council meeting, where Agripenex had shown a rare empathy toward her hybrid nature—a feeling she didn't often encounter. Memories of her time with Ronin crept in, causing a slight blush. She recalled his dalliance with another, a turian woman. Typical, she mused with a hint of bitterness. Leaving him behind without an explanation or a proper goodbye had landed her in the ex-department. She let out an irritated sigh, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts.

The bustling streets of Palaven's capital were a hive of activity, teeming with the vibrant life of the city. Turians of all shapes and sizes hurried along the wide boulevards, their sleek, metallic armor glinting under the soft, artificial lights that lined the walkways.

Despite the lively atmosphere, signs of past conflict were still evident. On the outskirts, towering structures stood partially collapsed, their once-majestic forms now reduced to ruins. The scars of the Reaper invasion were a stark reminder of the recent turmoil that had gripped the galaxy. Yet, amidst the debris and destruction, there was undeniable resilience in the way they carried on.

As Satima walked behind Garrus, she couldn't help but marvel at the intricate architecture that adorned the cityscape. Graceful arches and soaring spires dotted the skyline, each building a demonstration of the turian's engineering prowess.

She felt the weight of the city's history pressing down on her, a reminder of the many battles fought, and lives lost. Yet, there was also a sense of hope and determination, as the residents of Palaven worked tirelessly to rebuild their homeworld.

Garrus worried that bringing her here so quickly might backfire. The tension in the air was palpable, and he feared that it was only a matter of time before someone voiced their disapproval. Each step they took seemed to amplify the unease, and Satima could feel the weight of countless eyes on them, scrutinizing their every move.

Furthermore, Satima's unique blend of human and turian heritage made her stand out even more. Her smaller carapace could potentially pose medical challenges, but Garrus chose not to burden her with these intricate worries. With wide-eyed curiosity, she took in her surroundings, though her gaze often darted away when she sensed others watching.

Twenty-one, and still such a kid to him. He and Shepard had debated fervently about getting her into therapy. The very thought grated on his nerves, but the dire necessity couldn't be ignored.

Garrus found himself contemplating the simplicity of a bullet – a straightforward solution to all his familiar problems. Criminal scum, hot-headed brutes, even the terrifying Reapers; he'd faced them all, relying on his weapons to bring resolution. But in this new era, the galaxy seemed to have run out of those kinds of problems, leaving him with more complex, personal dilemmas.

As they continued down the cement sidewalk, Satima's attention was drawn to a group of turian kids standing in formation, their postures rigid with discipline. An instructor barked orders with stern authority, his presence commanding respect.

"I want all alleyways and docking ports scanned. Any failure will result in a week's discipline and no trip to the Citadel's C-Sec HQ. Am I clear?!" he shouted.

"Sir!" they all responded in unison, their voices ringing out with determination.

Satima couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the sight, her curiosity piqued by the dedication and intensity of the young trainees.

The little versions of Garrus, Solanna, and Ronin burst out, lively and full of energy, before Satima. Some of them halted in front of her, their eyes wide with curiosity and awe. She tried to step aside, but the instructor quickly noticed the commotion.

"Have you never seen a turian before? I said, move out!" he barked, his voice sharp enough to cut through the air.

Satima, bewildered, started to explain, "I'm not..."

But the instructor, already moving on, nodded curtly. "Ma'am. Have a good day," he said, marching off behind the energetic group of children.
Satima watched them go, a mix of amusement and confusion on her face.

Garrus joined her with a smirk. "Not everyone is convinced you're a dangerous reaper experiment, Satima."

As they strolled down the bustling street, Satima's eyes danced with amusement. "Those kids were pretty adorable. Do all turian children go through such intense military training?"

Garrus nodded, "Yes. At the age of fifteen, turian children are automatically drafted into the military. They train until eighteen and then take on jobs in warships and dreadnoughts."

Satima's eyes widened with fascination. "Wow! And you've done that too?" She stepped in front of him, her curiosity bubbling over. "You served on a real warship before the Normandy?"

Garrus smiled, appreciating her enthusiasm. "Yes, I did. I joined C-Sec, following in my father's footsteps, in my early twenties."

"So, what you're saying is, if I were a kid, I would've been thrown into turian military boot camp?" Satima asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

As they waited for the sky cars to pass, the city lights danced in Satima's eyes. Garrus gently guided her toward a quaint restaurant tucked away from the bustling streets. "Not exactly," he said thoughtfully. "You're still half-human. Shepard would've wanted you prepared in the Alliance. And honestly, I believe in that too."

Her voice grew soft, tinged with melancholy. "I was talking about... if I were turian, not human," she said, her gaze dropping to the ground.

Garrus hesitated, holding the panel to the door of the restaurant longer than necessary, almost shorting it out. His voice was low, almost a whisper. "Well, if you were born a turian and raised in a turian family... yes, you would." They stepped inside, the ambiance of the restaurant contrasting sharply with the tension between them. As they sat in silence, the weight of the unspoken hung heavily in the air. Garrus finally broke the silence, his tone somber and searching. "Satima," he began, "are you ashamed of what you are?"

"I've never liked what I am," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't care which, but I would rather be either human or turian. Not both."

With a warm smile, Garrus leaned closer, his eyes filled with genuine admiration. "Being both is what makes you extraordinary. You're a rare gem in the vast galaxy, Satima. No one else can boast of such a unique heritage."

Satima's cheeks flushed a deep pink, and she looked away, "Thanks, Garrus," she murmured, her voice laced with a shy embarrassment.

Garrus took a deep breath, his gaze steady and filled with determination. "Satima, there's something I've been meaning to say," he began, his voice trembling slightly. "I know things haven't always been easy for you, feeling caught between two worlds. But I want you to know that you don't have to face it alone."

He hesitated for a moment, then finally blurted out the words that had been weighing on his heart. "I... I would be okay if you called me Dad. I want to step up and… and be the father you need."

Satima shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her fingers tracing the edges of the table. "Do you... really want me to say that?" she stammered, her voice barely audible, thick with uncertainty. She couldn't bring herself to meet Garrus's gaze.

"Are you sure you even want me as a daughter?" she swallowed hard, her voice trembling with doubt. "Considering all I've done, all the times I've screwed up... you told me to keep my distance once..." Her voice faded into a whisper, weighed down by the memories. Satima couldn't shake off the painful recollection of that moment on the Normandy, a wound that time had barely begun to heal. Now, under Garrus's unwavering gaze, those emotions crashed back with a force that left her breathless.

Garrus glanced around the table, noticing the prying ears and peeking looks directed at their very private and important conversation. His heart ached at the thought of Satima enduring more embarrassment and mental strife. He covered his face with a hand, his voice low and gentle, "Just forget I said that, Satima. Let's talk about it another time, okay?"

Satima nodded, her expression heavy with sadness. "Forgotten." A somber silence settled over them as they continued their meal, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily in the air.
..............................................................................
Sigurd's Cradle
Skepsis System

As the Endeavor descended towards the colony of Watson, the recovering city under the Alliance's jurisdiction came into view, its skyline a mix of rebuilding efforts and remnants of past destruction. Ronin and Ashley carefully landed their shuttle at the docking port, stepping out into the vibrant yet tense atmosphere. The colonists cast wary glances towards the newcomers. The duo could feel the weight of expectation and suspicion in the eyes that followed them, as they prepared to navigate the complexities of this fragile yet determined community.

"Wonder what has them spooked?" Ashley mused aloud, her eyes scanning the wary faces of the colonists.

Ronin locked the shuttle with a measured click, "Not sure, but we better find out."

They cautiously advanced to the docking hub, the air thick with unease. Every step felt like an intrusion as they scanned the terminal for data on the Endeavor. The ship had docked a mere week ago, its crew of three vanishing into the depths of the city without a trace. Suspicion and tension crackled in the atmosphere, leaving Ronin and Ashley with a sense of foreboding.

Inside the dimly lit city station, Ronin downloaded the vid footage from the upper city, while Ashley approached the receptionist with guarded determination.

"I'm looking for the crew of the Endeavor. I need them to make a delivery. They do make deliveries, right?" Ashley asked, her voice edged with urgency.

The receptionist's eyes darted around nervously. "Well, yeah. But I don't know where they went," she replied, her voice wavering.

"Do they come here often?" Ashley pressed, her gaze intense.

The woman shook her head, her unease palpable. "Once or twice.
Ferrying supplies in and out. The captain used to be Alliance. Retired after the war a year ago, injury or something like that," she whispered, casting another anxious glance around. "It's just something I overheard at the bar, alright?"

Ashley nodded, leaning back from the counter, "Alright, thanks for the info." She walked back to Ronin, who had become the focus of curious gazes from the human colonists. This attention might explain why the council insisted on having Williams accompany him.

"The captain frequented a local bar," Ashley informed, her voice tinged with renewed determination. "Let's start there. Maybe we can pick up more threads."

He nodded, absorbing her information before activating his omni-tool. "Take a look at this," Ronin said, his voice laced with intrigue. The holographic screen flickered to life, displaying footage from three days prior. The captain was seen striding purposefully down the bustling market street, her demeanor a mix of frustration and determination. She coughed and barked orders at passersby, creating an aura of authority and unease. She slipped into a bar for an hour, emerging with a bottle of liquor and a gun clutched tightly in her hand.

Ashley and Ronin exchanged a tense glance. "Should we check for recent homicides?" she questioned, her voice tinged with apprehension.

"Ooh, yeah," he responded, the weight of the situation settling heavily on his shoulders.

As they moved through the colony, an unsettling atmosphere surrounded them. The sight of coughing colonists sent a shiver down their spines. Something sinister was at play, and the urgency to uncover the truth grew stronger with each step they took toward the security station.
.......................................................................
Home

Satima stood there, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot, thinking about the most uncomfortable experience of her life. Frankly, nothing came close—not even that time with Natalie—except for today. She was in a corner of the Vakarians' home, feeling out of place and wishing she were back at the citadel. She could almost hear the awkward silence ringing in her ears.

Their home was situated within the fortress city, the heart of Palaven. Towering buildings with thick, formidable walls made of durable metal loomed overhead, their small windows appearing as illuminated slits at night.

Every turian citizen carried a hardened stare, a testament to their military discipline. Satima knew she would never fit into a society so steeped in doctrine. She felt too human, her emotions too raw and her actions too impulsive—qualities that made her feel all the more out of place in this rigid world.

A smirk played on Satima's lips as she gazed out the window, observing the bustling streets below. Turians moved with a purpose, each step a demonstration to their disciplined lives. Her eyes wandered to the mountainside in the distance, catching the sun's dying rays and transforming the rocky terrain into a shimmering tapestry of silver. She marveled at the breathtaking sight, momentarily forgetting her unease, captivated by the beauty unfolding before her.

"The only thing on this planet that isn't silver are the turians. It's all too clear they're made of steel.", Tiberius Vakarian stated, walking into the living room. "When the Alliance visited my home world, after the first contact war, Jon Grissom marveled at those same mountains."

"First Contact War?", Satima asked.

He stared at her with curiosity. "Yes. A grave mistake that almost cost our position on the citadel and the galaxy.", he remarked. Tiberius sat down, suggesting a position in a chair for Satima. She obliged, taking a seat and glancing around the room nervously.

He glimpsed at her cropped hair and uncomfortable demeanor. "You've been gone quite a while, Satima. I heard you took a position within the sentarian's military. Is it to your liking?"

Satima gave him a wary look. "Yes, it is. I've learned a lot abroad with them."

Tiberius tilted his head, his eyes searching hers for an answer. "So, are you happy to be back?" he asked, his voice gentle yet insistent.

Satima hesitated, her thoughts a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. "I... I'm not sure," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

A crease formed between Tiberius' plated brows as he took in her words. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said softly, his concern unmistakable.

Satima raised her eyes to him, feeling awful for her response. "I am happy that I've come here. To finally see Garrus's home." She stood up to gesture outside the window. "The view is amazing and everyone has been accommodating. Intensely strict and disciplined."

Tiberius nodded favorably to her. "That's good to hear, but you don't have to force a smile on my behalf. You're a guest in my home, I want to make sure you're comfortable."

Satima put her arms to her sides, looking discouraged. Garrus and Solanna walked in. "Thanks for letting us stay the week here, Dad.", he said.

Solanna rolled her eyes. "Stop acting like you're an inconvenience."

Satima put her hands behind her back nervously. Solanna glanced at her and attempted a conversation. "It's... nice to see you again.", she commented.

"Yeah.", Satima replied.

The room fell silent with an uneasy tension. Satima swore that if someone dropped a needle, it would echo like a gunshot. Solanna's intense gaze bore into her, only to shift away abruptly when Satima caught her stare. Garrus's sister nervously busied herself with the glasses of water, her hands trembling slightly. Tiberius observed the scene, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips. His formidable, opinionated children, renowned and accomplished, were uneasy around this seemingly insignificant girl.

"Would you like to hear about Garrus and Solanna's mother?" Tiberius asked, his voice cutting through the thick atmosphere like a knife.

Solanna nearly dropped her glass, while Garrus sat up, his posture suddenly rigid, eyes wide with apprehension.

"Sure," Satima answered, her voice tight with uncertainty.

"Has he spoken much about her?" Tiberius wondered aloud, his question hanging heavily in the air.

Satima and Garrus exchanged wary looks. "No," she replied, her voice barely audible, shrugging apologetically towards him.

"Lealia was a remarkable woman," Tiberius began, his voice tinged with a wistful melancholy. "She possessed a compassion as vast as this world’s oceans and a strength that drew others to her like moths to a flame. I often think that she would have cherished the idea of your existence, Satima. In many ways, Solanna has inherited her mother's indomitable spirit and sharp intellect. And Garrus... well, he carries her boundless compassion for others."

The room seemed to hold its breath, the weight of Tiberius's words settling heavily upon each of them. Satima felt a shiver run down her spine, sensing the depth of emotion behind Tiberius's calm exterior. She glanced at Garrus, who was staring at the floor, his face a mask of conflicting emotions.

"She would have been proud of both of you," Tiberius continued softly, his gaze shifting between his children. "Proud of the strength and integrity you have shown, despite the burdens you carry."

Satima's heart ached with an inexplicable sorrow, as if she were touching a fragment of a past that was not her own.

"She sounds truly remarkable," Satima murmured, her voice heavy with a quiet reverence.

Garrus looked down, his gaze lost in the shadows of a distant memory. Satima, sensing the gravity of the moment, continued her inquiry with cautious curiosity. "If it's not too painful... could you tell me what happened to her?"

Solanna gently placed her hand on Garrus's shoulder, her touch a silent offering of comfort. "She was ill for some time," she began, her voice laden with sorrow. "Before the reapers came to ravage the galaxy, she died while he was away helping Shepard. It was just Dad and me for a little while."

Satima's heart ached with empathy, her voice softening as she responded, "Kha ve. I'm so sorry."

"We appreciate that," Solanna replied, her voice tinged with a quiet melancholy. She exchanged a glance with her father and then turned to Satima. "I think I'll retire for the night. Tomorrow's going to be a long day filled with technical challenges. Goodnight, everyone."

Satima watched as Solanna rose to leave, her gaze briefly lingering on Garrus, who remained lost in his thoughts. Tiberius stood up as well, his expression a mix of gratitude and sorrow. "I'll see you tomorrow too, Satima. Goodnight," he said gently.

A heavy silence descended upon the room, each second stretching unbearably. The stillness outside mirrored the suffocating quiet within. Satima's eyes remained fixed on Garrus, who seemed even more distant, lost in the labyrinth of his memories. After what felt like an eternity, she reluctantly rose to leave, the weight of the conversation hanging heavily in the air.

He suddenly began to speak, his voice heavy with unresolved emotions. "From the moment I met you… no… no. That wouldn't be true. Let's start again," he sighed, the frustration palpable. She stood motionless, anticipation and uncertainty warring within her. "From the moment I knew you were mine, I couldn't bear to look at you," he continued, his voice thick with raw contempt. "Not because of what you are or how you were created, but because of how you look at me." His words hung in the air, laden with a sorrowful intensity that seemed to echo through the stillness of the room.

"What...", she began, her voice faltering. This reminded her of the Garrus she had met over a year ago—paranoid, distrustful, and unpredictable. It didn't bode well.

"Let me finish," Garrus murmured, his voice barely a whisper. He hung his head low, his gaze fixed on the floor as if searching for the right words. "Your eyes, Satima. They're unique. Not because you're part turian and part human, nor because of the genetic mutation inflicted by the reapers. No. It's because they're hers." He swallowed hard, his throat tight with emotion. "How the reapers knew, I can't fathom. Maybe it's a cruel twist of fate or a sick cosmic joke. Satima, you need to understand—you have your grandmother's eyes. My mother. There's a part of her in you, and that connection... it's haunting," he finished, his words echoing in the oppressive silence.

She stared at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of confusion and dread. "Why are you telling me this?" she demanded, her voice trembling.

Garrus looked up, his eyes haunted. "Because it's important," he replied, his words heavy with an unsettling gravity.

Satima turned abruptly, bolting out of the door, her footsteps echoing down the corridor. Garrus stood frozen, shock and confusion written all over his face. As he moved to follow her, his father stepped in, blocking his path. "Let her go, son. She's heard enough for one night."

Garrus looked at his father, then back at the empty hallway, frustration boiling over. "Why did she run?" he burst out, his voice shaking with agitation. "Spirits, Dad. I don't understand her at all!"

Tiberius sighed deeply, his gaze steady and somber. "Then make it your mission to understand her," he said, his voice heavy with the weight of unspoken truths.

She took the elevator to the top floor, her legs moving on autopilot as her mind raced with the revelation Garrus had just told her. Using the emergency stairs, she reached the rooftop, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. It took a hack to break the door open, and she stumbled forward, hugging herself tightly.

Warm tears streaked her face as she stood at the ledge of the tall building, overlooking the city. Satima covered her mouth to muffle her sobs. The weight of Garrus's words bore down on her, making it hard to breathe. It was cruel to lead her to believe in a future with them.

"...how pathetic...", the whisper taunted.

Satima's steps quickened, each footfall echoing the turmoil within. A warm breeze sent an eerie chill down her spine, its contrast only intensifying her resolve. She would seek out the sentarian geneticist, determined to sever the ties that bound her to them. It didn't matter if her eyes remained human or turned sentarian black. If she could strip away her genetic link, she would.

"...you are weak...", the whisper repeated, more insistent now.

As she stood there, the cool night air seemed to choke her, causing her to cough violently. Each dry heave echoed her inner turmoil, the taste of bile rising in her throat. The heavy dextro meals she had consumed earlier felt like lead in her stomach, making her nauseous. She fought the urge to vomit, her thoughts racing. She needed to leave this planet, to escape this suffocating reality. A restless night's sleep was her only solace, even though the desire to abandon everything was overwhelming.
..........................................................
The Normandy navigated back into the system of Nepmos. Standing on the bridge, Shepard eventually stopped behind Joker. "Is the Inglorious in view?", she asked.

Joker whisked a few holo panels, effortlessly raising controls and turning the Normandy to Nepmos. "There it is.", he pointed. The alliance dreadnought sat quietly. No shuttles or traffic came between it and the planet. "It's quiet.", Joker stated.

"Raise the comms again. Maybe there was interference.", Shepard ordered.

As Joker followed commands, EDI continued to monitor the ship. "Captain, I have scanned the Inglorious. There is nothing to indicate a com-link issue. It's simply empty."

"What?", Shepard asked, her voice tinged with concern.

"There are no life forms aboard," EDI stated calmly, yet the gravity of the situation was evident.

Joker shot a worried glance at Shepard, "Well, that can't be good," he remarked, his usual humor failing to mask the unease that crept into his tone.

Shepard walked away from him, pacing, staring at the ship in orbit of Nepmos. Satima hoped the fires of the sentarian warship would kill whatever was hiding in it. "We're going topside. I want this ship ready to evacuate when I order it. If I can't escape the planet, contact Alliance Command. Whatever Satima brought with her on that ship, we don't want it spreading throughout the systems."

"Ma'am.", Joker replied.

Shepard tried communicating with the Inglorious, but nothing went through. Static and dead space filled the comms. She readied the kodiak, taking James and EDI. Joker never likes it, but she's short on experienced crew.

The kodiak tore through the atmosphere with a shuddering roar. Cortez's voice crackled over the comms. "Ma'am, there's no one down there. It's completely empty."

Geared in heavy armor, Shepard stood over him. "Where could they have gone?"

James loaded his rifle. "Maybe that ship? I knew something was strange about that thing."

"We'll set up camp first and investigate. If we uncover any clues leading into the ship, we'll venture inside," Shepard declared with determination, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

"Captain, it would be best to contact Satima. Considering this is a vessel familiar to her.", EDI commented.

"She's too far away, EDI. We're on our own for now.", Shepard replied.

Cortez deftly settled the shuttle on the landing pad, the hiss of the hydraulics breaking the eerie silence. Shepard, with a resolute nod, led her team out into the desolate camp. The stillness was evident, dust swirling in the faint breeze. EDI's sensors hummed as she scanned the compounds and hab tents. "This camp has been abandoned for weeks, Captain," she reported, her tone laced with an edge of intrigue.

"Any sign of rachni activity?", Shepard asked. Her rifle aimed at her surroundings.

"None.", EDI replied.

They cautiously advanced into the heart of the camp. The malfunctioning doors of the compounds creaked ominously, and flickering lights cast eerie shadows. Shepard's eyes were sharp, her senses on high alert as she stepped into the vacant electrical station.

Ashen dirt swirled beneath her boots, the room heavy with the staleness of abandonment. Grey dust blanketed the generator, which bore deep slash marks—evidence of some ferocious claws. Shepard gestured towards the generator, her voice tense. "Look at this."

"Dios. Do you think the rachni did this?" James asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and unease.

"Won't know for sure unless one of them shows up," Shepard replied, her tone steady but eyes scanning the surroundings.

"Rachni usually follow a queen's command. It's possible a nest hatched recently without a queen nearby, much like the incident at the hot labs on Noveria," EDI informed, her voice tinged with a hint of caution.

Shepard used her rifle to lift pieces of electrical junk off a smaller generator. Someone was trying to fix it. "Yeah, but the queen on Noveria was a slave. She couldn't help her young. We had no choice but to kill them. This, however, is different. It seems calculated, but unstable."

James stepped to her. "Captain, Commander Ashley was here weeks ago. You think..."

She briefly touched his arm. "Don't worry, Vega. Ash is out on spectre business."

"Captain. Movement.", EDI reported.

They followed the trail to the medical tent. Shepard cautiously opened the flap, her heart pounding in her chest. She stepped inside, every nerve on edge. A shadow lurked in the corner, draped in a lab coat. Shepard raised her rifle, her voice a low, commanding tone. "Stand up. Slowly."

The person stood with hands raised up. "Don't shoot! Please."

Shepard lowered her rifle, eyeing the woman. "Who are you?"

She stepped out carefully, her once, white lab coat, covered in dirt. "I was a part of the medical team here. Before it all went to hell.", she replied.

"How long have you been here?", Shepard asked.

"Two weeks. I came with a shuttle to the Inglorious. They opened the big ship, out in the distance. Found bodies of those tall aliens. Something wasn't right about them.", she answered.

James looked around, giving the all-clear. EDI took quick scans of the woman. "She's perfectly healthy although dehydrated."

Shepard nodded in acknowledgment. "What's your name?", she asked.

"Morgan... Morgan Reeves. I'm in bio-tech.", Morgan responded.

"Morgan. Can you tell us what happened here?", Shepard inquired.

Morgan walked around the tent, realizing the night sky was almost full. "No! We have to find shelter! Stay hidden, stay in the light!", she started to panic.

Shepard grabbed the arm of an erratic Morgan. "Calm down! You're not alone here."

Morgan wrested her arm from Shepard. "You don't understand! They took all of them. I saw some of the soldiers return, but they were sick. Coughing up dark blood and behaving violently."

"Hijo de puta!", James exclaimed. He found a marine's body, nearly gutted. "Rachni!", he exclaimed.

EDI stepped outside to see if any rachni started to emerge at night. "Captain."

Shepard walked outside. Morgan and James followed. "What is it, EDI?"

"Over the hill. More movement.", EDI readied her pistol.

Suddenly, a group of rachni emerged from the shadows, led by three sentarians. Their pale green skin had turned an ashen grey, mirroring the desolate landscape around them. Their texture appeared paper-thin and dried, with ominous grey lesions covering most of their exposed bodies. Patches of putrid-colored growth adorned their necks and hands, a ghastly reminder of their mutation. The rachni, too, bore this unsettling distinction, their movements swift and menacing.

Shepard squinted, discerning the milky white eyes staring back from the dim corner. A contingent of Alliance marines staggered beside the group, blue parasitic veins snaking across their skin. Some coughed violently, their breaths ragged and labored, adding an eerie soundtrack to the grim scene.

Morgan's trembling was unmistakable as Shepard's steely gaze fixed on her. "Are they dangerous?" Shepard demanded, her voice cutting through the thick tension.

Morgan remained mute, her eyes wide with fear. Shepard gripped her shoulders, shaking her slightly. "Morgan! Are they dangerous?!" she repeated, urgency and frustration lacing her tone.

A low rumble reverberated beneath them, sending vibrations through the ground. Suddenly, the surface shattered before their eyes, and dozens of infected rachni surged forth, their presence menacing and overwhelming.

Morgan's eyes locked onto Shepard's, her voice barely a whisper. "Run."

Quickly, they ran to the shuttle. "Cortez!", Shepard yelled over comms, panting from the heavy footfalls of her boots to the ground.

"Captain," Cortez's voice crackled through the comms.

"Prepare the shuttle for immediate departure. We're getting out of here!" Shepard commanded, her voice resolute.

"Roger that, Commander!" Cortez responded with determination.

At the landing platform, James had no choice but to shoot at them. "Captain, they're hostile."

She opened the hatch as Morgan and EDI hopped inside. Shepard turned to see the sick and crazed marines run towards them behind the rachni. "Defend yourself.", she shouted.

She and James mercilessly dispatched a few of the creatures, their weapons roaring as the remaining rachni retreated. They sprinted to the shuttle, and Cortez quickly lifted it off the platform. He glanced back at the chaos below. "Captain, what happened?"

Shepard glanced at Morgan, who was trembling uncontrollably. "It's bad. Really bad," she replied, her voice heavy with the weight of their encounter.
.....................................................................................
Back on Palaven

During her week on Palaven with Garrus and his family, Satima began to feel increasingly unwell. A persistent ache gnawed at her chest and lungs, and fevers came and went like unwelcome guests. As she wandered through the bustling streets, absorbing the rich cultural tapestry of the turian homeworld, she couldn't help but notice the wary glances cast her way. Many turians seemed less than thrilled by her presence, but she steeled herself, determined to rise above their unspoken disapproval.

One morning, before the anticipated shuttle ride back to the Normandy, they found themselves ascending in an elevator to the top of the judicial building. The meeting with Agripenex held promise—a potential position that Satima had eagerly expressed interest in, preferring it over the relentless battles she was accustomed to. The elevator hummed softly, heightening the anticipation of what was to come, as Satima prepared herself for a new chapter in her journey.

Inside the elevator, Garrus's eyes narrowed with concern as he noticed Satima beginning to sweat profusely. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with worry.

"I'm fine. It's just... hot," she replied, tugging at her vest collar in an attempt to cool down.

Garrus raised a plated brow. "You've been coughing a lot lately too," he noted, his concern growing.

Satima waved off his worries with a dismissive hand. "I'm just not used to this place yet. I'll be alright."

As the elevator doors slid open, they stepped out onto the top floor to be greeted by the commanding presence of Agripenex. Her smile conveyed both warmth and authority, inviting Satima and Garrus into her spacious, sunlit office. They took their seats on plush chairs, a stark contrast to the cold, hard benches Garrus had known all too well.

Agripenex leaned forward, her eyes locking onto Satima's with an intensity that hinted at the gravity of the moment. "Satima," she began, her voice resonating with a blend of seriousness and encouragement, "I have an offer for you—a position here on Palaven that could change everything."

"Here?", Satima answered. "Is that wise? Considering how most of this world may not want me wandering around their streets."

Agripenex shook her head with a thoughtful smile. "You would be working closely with me, which presents an incredible opportunity to enhance your reputation among our people," she offered, her tone warm and inviting. "Diving into our culture and history will give you a profound understanding of our stance in the galaxy. Plus, I could use a formidable assistant to keep people like Malen in line." She chuckled softly, her eyes twinkling with humor.

Satima rose from her seat, her steps deliberate as she moved towards the expansive window. The view of Palaven's rugged mountains stretched before her, a testament to the planet's untamed beauty. She took a deep breath, the gravity of Agripenex's offer settling in.

"This is an incredible offer," she said, her voice imbued with a mix of awe and determination. She turned to face Garrus, her eyes seeking his reassurance. "But would your father and sister be alright with me staying here?"

Garrus met her gaze, his expression softening with a hint of a smile. "They'll be thrilled to have you, Satima. You’re part of our family now."

Agripenex watched the exchange with a knowing smile, her eyes reflecting a blend of approval and amusement.

Satima took a step forward, but a sudden wave of dizziness washed over her, causing her to sway slightly on her feet. She reached up, touching her temple with a furrowed brow. "Whoa," she murmured, her voice tinged with surprise and concern.

Agripenex's eyes narrowed with concern as she observed Satima's pallor. "Satima... you don't look well. Is something wrong?" she asked, her voice edged with urgency.

"I'm just... just a little hot," Satima stammered, her body beginning to shake uncontrollably. Without warning, she collapsed backward.

"Satima!" Garrus exclaimed, his voice filled with panic as he knelt beside her.

"I'll call a medical team. She is half turian, after all.", Agripenex summoned.

Satima woke up at a hospital filled with turians. She sat up feeling weak. Solanna stood to the side, now aware of the girl's awakening. "They were worried. I... I was concerned as well.", she informed.

Out the open door, a few turians passed by, curiously looking in for quick glances at her. Their wide stares told her of their thoughts. "The hybrid here! In their medical facility, where vulnerable patients are!" Satima understood their fears. She gazed forward, nearly daydreaming when Solanna started speaking.

"Do you remember anything that happened in Madam Councilor's office?", she wondered.

Satima glanced at her, then sighed. "I don't know what happened. One minute I was just a little hot, and the next I was on the floor."

Solanna began thinking. "The doctor surmises it might be the radioactive atmosphere on our planet. You're not a full turian. You weren't born on this planet or raised in a poor magnetic environment.", she commented.

"What does that mean?", Satima asked.

"It's thu...Nothing.", Solanna dismissed. "You'll just need to be more careful when you visit here from now on. There are special envirosuits and preventative injections you can take.", she added.

Garrus and Tiberius appeared through the doorway. "How are you feeling?", Garrus asked, his voice laced with urgency.

"She'll live.", Solanna informed walking out.

Tiberius eyed her, continuing to Satima. "She sat with you for an hour, while Garrus here contacted the Normandy. It won't be long before you'll be leaving back to the citadel."

"Oh.", Satima spoke.

"I did enjoy your stay here.", he remarked.

Satima smiled, "Thank you for the stories. It's something I can retell to my friends on Lithera.", she added. A bitter memory stinging her words. If she has any left, that is.

"Lithera?", Tiberius asked.

"Sentarian home world.", she answered.

Garrus watched them intently, a sense of relief washing over him. Satima's connection with her turian family was something she had longed for, and despite the perils they faced, it was heartening to see her surrounded by loved ones. At least, she hopes they care about her.

On the shuttle ride, Satima's nausea intensified, her grip tightening on the handle as the turbulent journey jostled her. Cortez glanced back, aiming to reassure her, "Hang in there, Satima. The ride will smooth out soon, and we'll be back on the Normandy before you know it."

She nodded, trying to find solace in his words. As the shuttle pierced through the planet's atmosphere, the turbulence lessened, but a gnawing fear clung to Satima. It was unlike her to feel sick on a shuttle or a ship—after all, she had spent years living on one. Something was very wrong.

Garrus perched on the edge of the bench, his nerves taut as a drawn bowstring. The warship beckoned, and Shepard awaited his return. He had so much to share about Satima's time on Palaven, but his eyes kept darting back to his hybrid daughter. She looked paler than usual, an unsettling contrast against the dim shuttle lights.

"It's the thulium in our carapaces, Satima," Garrus explained, his voice gentle yet tinged with concern. "That's what shields us from the radiation on our planet. The doctor in the city speculated that your thulium levels are too low to protect you for more than a few days on the surface." He paused, searching her eyes for understanding. "Or maybe, because you were never born there, your body never developed the right levels."

Satima nodded, absorbing the gravity of his words. The weight of her heritage and the unique challenges it presented were the least of her worries right now.

"Are you still feeling sick?" Garrus asked, his voice edged with worry.

Satima swallowed hard, barely managing a nod. "A little. I'm sure it will pass in a while," she replied, though doubt gnawed at her mind.

The kodiak shuttle glided towards the Normandy, its engines humming with a subdued urgency. Inside, Garrus and Satima exchanged a final, anxious glance as the shuttle docked. Cortez deftly attached the couplings, his movements precise and practiced. The hatch hissed open, and Shepard's silhouette appeared, her eyes sharp with concern.

"We need to talk," Shepard's voice was low but commanding, the weight of her words hanging heavily in the air.

Garrus glanced at them both when Satima began to step forward and started coughing violently. Shepard walked in to help her, turning to Garrus, her face etched with worry. "What's wrong?" she demanded, her voice tight with apprehension.

"I don't know," he replied, panic evident in his voice. "She started to get sick on Palaven, but the doctor thought it was just a radiation issue."

Satima couldn't catch her breath, suddenly spitting up a handful of dark red blood. She looked at it in horror, her eyes widening with dread. "No...," she muttered, her voice trembling with fear. Her body began to shake uncontrollably as the realization hit her.

Shepard stared at Satima, her face a mask of concern. "I'm infected," Satima whispered, her voice barely audible.
...............................................................
Medical bay
Normandy

Chockwas scanned her thoroughly, her eyes narrowing with concern. "There was never anything on her previous evals before. This is a new development," she murmured, her voice tinged with urgency.

Morgan stood in the corner, shaking and glaring at Satima in anger. "We should space her. She's only going to infect the rest of us!"

Shepard stared at Morgan in disgust. "Quiet. Stay over there, and do not interfere." She turned to Satima, who had a pleading look.

"You should listen to her.", Satima warned.

Shepard shook her head. "No one's spacing you. Chockwas, find anything yet?"

Garrus came in, "I alerted the hospital she visited on Palaven. Agripenex is having it scrubbed and the patients there screened.", he glanced to Satima. "It's not your fault. You didn't know you were sick."

Satima averted her gaze, a shadow of guilt crossing her face. "Yes, I did," she admitted reluctantly.

Shepard's eyes widened, her stance rigid. "What do you mean, Satima?" she demanded, a note of urgency in her voice.

Garrus stepped forward, his confusion deepening. "For how long?" he pressed, his voice filled with a mix of concern and frustration.

Satima's shoulders slumped under the weight of their accusing stares. "Since I landed on Nepmos," she confessed, her voice breaking. "I fought the infected, and one of them... one of them bled on me. On Lithera, we would've scrubbed and sanitized. Quarantined until cleared. I've come close before but never got sick. Until now."

"Until now?! How long have you been fighting these things?" Shepard demanded, her voice rising with alarm.

"For six months on Lithera. The Sentarians have advanced technology. Ways to prevent infection or slow it down," Satima answered, her voice trembling with fear.

"Spirits, Satima! I took you to my home world, to my family!" Garrus shouted, his voice trembling with anger and frustration. "I took you to public places! How could you not tell me?" he complained, his mandibles flaring in distress.

Satima got off the examination table and stepped to him. "I know, and I'm so sorry.", she said pleadingly. "I thought I was immune. I've never been sick before. Never. I thought the reapers made me immune."

"What do you mean, immune?", Shepard asked, concerned.

Chockwas ran the blood tests, her heart pounding. She looked up at the word immune, the tension thick in the air. She pondered this same question, her eyes darting to Satima's results on the screen.

Satima continued, "I agreed to help Akasia extract a piece of the HIVE laboratories from my timeline. Yes, it's still there. I blew that ship up, destroying everything and everyone on it, but... pieces remained."

Unnoticed by the others, Morgan quietly slipped behind a table and carefully picked up a scalpel. She moved stealthily into the shadows, holding the weapon tightly in her hand, her eyes never leaving Satima.

Satima paced, "I warned her. Tried to stop her, but she insisted that HIVE had sensitive information on her people. Reaper creations that needed to be eradicated. She happened on an intact lab and brought it back. We didn't know the entire piece had a survivor in it. It was too late then."

"What happened?", Shepard inquired.

Satima crossed her arms vulnerable. "The infection had already begun to spread.", she answered. "But… that survivor had used it to screw us all."

Garrus's eyes widened as he spotted Morgan stealthily moving behind Satima, the glint of the scalpel catching the dim light. "Satima!" he shouted, his voice thick with urgency.

Satima's reflexes were swift, but not swift enough. She raised her hands, attempting to deflect the oncoming attack. In the blink of an eye, Morgan's scalpel found its mark, piercing through the flesh of Satima's right hand. A sharp cry of pain escaped Satima's lips as the metal impaled her hand, the blood beginning to seep from the wound.

Morgan, eyes wide with terror, backed away, her breath coming in quick pants. "You're responsible for them. It's your fault!" she screamed, her voice a mixture of fear and accusation. The room seemed to freeze as everyone absorbed the gravity of the situation.

Shepard approached Satima as she pulled the scalpel from her hand. It fell to the floor with a sharp ping, blood splattering around it. "Chockwas.", Shepard summoned.

Satima wrested her hand from Shepard, her eyes ablaze with fury and pain. Her gaze locked onto Morgan, who stumbled backward, terror etched on her face. "Stay away from me!" Morgan’s voice was a venomous hiss, reverberating through the room.

Shepard's voice cut through the tension, but it was too late. Satima, driven by fury, stepped forward with determination. "Satima, don't!" Shepard's plea seemed to hang in the air, unanswered.

"You pathetic human," she hissed, her voice twisted and unfamiliar.

Morgan found another scalpel and brandished it towards Satima, her hand trembling. "Stay away! You're sick, infected. You should be quarantined!" Her voice quivered with a mixture of fear and desperation, the scalpel glinting ominously under the light.

Satima's laugh echoed through the room, chilling and manic. "Why does everyone want to put me in a box?! It's really starting to piss me off." Her eyes bore dangerously into Morgan's, who stood frozen with fear. "You think there's a cure?" Satima leaned in, her voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "There's no cure for something like me."

Her dark eyes gleamed with an almost supernatural intensity, and as she spoke, they shifted to a horrifying blood-red, framed by the black sclera familiar to turians. The transformation was as sudden as it was terrifying, drawing gasps from the onlookers.

"Shepard, help me," Morgan's voice quivered with sheer terror, her eyes darting between Satima's menacing form and the scalpel in her trembling hand.

"That's enough, Satima!", Shepard yelled, her voice edged with fear and authority, as she saw the imminent danger to Morgan's life.

Satima faced them briefly, showing her red eyes and an unamused expression. She turned to Morgan, leaning closer with her bloody hand on the wall behind the terrified human. "I've suffered for too long, for this galaxy and its useless people," she hissed through clenched teeth. Her smile twisted into something dark and malevolent. "I have a solution. Why not you, instead of me?"

Morgan cried out as Satima grabbed the scalpel with advanced reflexes. Pointing it towards her.

Satima stared and held her breath, her eyes widening in shock at the depth of terror in Morgan's expression. Her eyes resumed their natural teal, the blood-red hue receding like an ebbing tide. A look of surprise and bewilderment flickered across Satima's face, as if she had just awakened from a nightmare. "I'm… I'm sorry," she stammered, her voice cracking, and her hand began to tremble uncontrollably.

She leaned back, letting Morgan go as the blade clattered to the floor. Disgust crept across her features. Garrus stepped forward, his confusion and fear palpable. What had Satima become? Doubts gnawed at him. Spirits, they have Natalie now!

Shepard walked to Satima despite Garrus's warning. She gently touched Satima's arm, causing her to flinch. Suddenly, Satima collapsed into Shepard's arms, her body shaking uncontrollably. "I'm a monster!" she cried out, her voice raw with agony. Intense sobs wracked her frame, and her tears fell in a torrent, soaking Shepard's shoulder. The weight of her actions crushed her, and she clung desperately to Shepard, seeking solace in the midst of her breakdown. Her cries echoed in the room, carrying the depth of her remorse and despair.

Shepard's arms wrapped around Satima, offering the comfort she desperately needed. But as the young woman sobbed against her shoulder, Shepard's mind was a storm of conflicting emotions. She felt an overwhelming urge to console Satima, to tell her that she didn't mean what she had done, that everything would be fine. Yet, another part of her, the part trained to protect, screamed for her to lock Satima away, to prevent any further harm. Shepard's heart ached as she struggled to reconcile these feelings, torn between her compassion and her duty. "You didn't mean it. It's okay. You didn't mean it," she repeated, her voice steady, even as her mind raced with indecision.

Garrus looked on, his mind racing with confusion and fear. He turned sharply to Chockwas, who had a pistol gripped tightly in her hands, ready for anything.
......................................................
Moments later....

Satima sat in the core room, the darkness enveloping her like a vice. She had wanted this, begged for it, but now the reality was suffocating. The implant had stopped working, but how? It had malfunctioned and almost killed someone. Panic clawed at her chest as she rubbed her head in pain, the scar above her ear throbbing with a relentless ache. Fear and despair battled within her, each moment more agonizing than the last.

She looked up as the door creaked open. It was Garrus. His eyes were hard, his expression unreadable. She stared at him, feeling the weight of her actions, knowing how much she had disappointed him. "Are you here to kill me?" she asked, her voice trembling with fear.

Garrus uncrossed his arms, staring at her with a mixture of pity and frustration. "The neural implant behind your ear. What is it for?" he asked, ignoring her question entirely.

Satima buried her head between her knees. "To stop It."

"Who?" Garrus demanded, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife.

"You wouldn't understand," Satima replied, her voice barely a whisper.

Garrus took a step closer, his eyes never leaving her. "Try me," he challenged, his gaze intense.

Satima sighed. "I'm indoctrinated. You know how that goes. Anyone exposed to the Reapers can never fully escape the after-effects."

She stood up, her voice softening. "On Earth, at the beam, I had nanotech inside me. That's why we wore those special suits of armor," Satima explained, glancing away.

"My entire life on that Reaper station was spent being tormented to become like one of them. I developed... an indoctrinated personality. It's been trying to take over, all because of the Reapers," she admitted, her eyes filled with alarm.

"So, your hair... that implant..." Garrus asked, his voice trembling with barely suppressed tension.

"To receive the surgery. They needed me awake during the process. Mem-Zurah had to incarcerate me. I... hurt some people," Satima's voice cracked with shame. "If I don't get back to Lithera soon, you'll have no other choice but to kill me."

"Satima...", Garrus whispered, his tone heavy with sorrow.

"No. Promise me... promise me you'll do it, kill me. Shepard can't! She won't! But, I know you'll do it. To save me." Satima's weak smile faded, her eyes pleading and desperate.

Garrus's eyes flashed with a mix of anger and sorrow as he looked away. "She's lost her mind," he thought, grappling with the weight of her request. He leaned off the wall, his taloned hand clenching into a fist as he fought the turmoil within him. Turning to face the door, he spoke again, his voice strained. "Chockwas has your results. Shepard and I will let you know what it says." He walked through the door, his heart heavy with the impossible choice ahead. The door sealed behind him, leaving Satima alone with her fears.

Satima stood there, her heart pounding in her chest. The room seemed to close in around her as she grappled with the gravity of her situation. If no one stops her, she'll do it herself.

In the medbay, tension hung thick in the air as Shepard and Garrus waited anxiously for Chockwas's announcement. Satima stood cuffed, flanked by two armed crew members, their eyes watching her every move. She understood the reasons; the memories of Mem-Zurah's restraints still fresh in her mind.

"What does it say about the infection?", Shepard asked.

Chockwas looked at them, then at Satima. "You've seen how this works. You know the symptoms. Explain it to them, hybrid.", she remarked with a cold stare, upset at the hybrid's reckless behavior towards infection protocol.

Satima gulped. "That test is going to say the foreign bacteria will mutate, and start respiratory problems." She sighed shakily, "It's attached to the nervous system, releasing toxins throughout the bloodstream. The infected sentarians developed growths on their bodies. This is some way the virus controls you. You become paranoid, violent even."

"What about the rest of the infection?", Shepard inquired.

Satima glanced to each of them. " It's a parasitic spore that fills your lungs. Your insides start to liquefy, and you turn into something like a... a husk. But somehow, a bit more terrifying than what we've seen on earth."

"Spirits.", Garrus commented. He looked at Shepard, "That sounds too familiar."

Chockwas stepped forward, her expression grave. "How long do you have?" The room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the answer that could change everything.

The hybrid couldn’t look at them and answer. She exhaled, the anxiety palpable in her breath. "Fifteen days, maybe a little more. I'll die of the infection and turn into them," Satima replied, her voice barely above a whisper. Her stare became steely and determined. "But I'll kill myself first."

Shepard's gaze locked onto Satima, her jaw set with determination. "What do we need to do, to save you?" Her voice was a sharp edge, cutting through the thick air of despair. She wasn't about to let this happen—not to Satima, not to anyone.

"The warship. There's data inside that will help me find a spatial rift, from there we can use a warp tunnel. Shepard, I need to go back to Lithera.", Satima answered. "There's a way to slow down the infection."

The captain nodded in agreement. "Then we'll do that, but first, you must tell me what we're facing.", Shepard demanded. "I saw infected rachni, but they were from Nepmos."

Satima looked down in thought, "Clusters of red and black.", she answered.

"Red and black what?", Shepard asked.

"Eggs.", Satima replied. "Groups of them, scattered about."

So, that explains it. Shepard shook her head. The Directive woke something terrifying, alright. Rachni from their own time.

Without a moment to lose, the Normandy raced back to Nepmos. Joker grumbled under his breath about the risky move, but Shepard's daughter was running out of time. Despite her earlier violent outburst in a fit of reaper-induced rage, she was family—and Shepard would do anything to save her.

On the cargo deck, Shepard methodically strapped on her gear, each click and snap echoing with urgency. Satima, pale and sweating, sat nearby, her hands shaking as she swallowed a handful of pills to stave off the relentless fevers. Garrus stood watch, his face a mask of stoic resolve, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of concern.

Shepard could sense the weight of the unspoken words hanging between them. She recalled the moment Garrus had approached her, his voice low, recounting Satima's desperate plea. The memory of his usually steady hands clenching and unclenching stayed with her, a silent testament to the gravity of the situation.

Cortez's voice sliced through the charged atmosphere. "Ma'am," he said urgently, "do we have any contingency plans in case this goes bad?" The memory of the harvester that nearly killed him in London haunted his nights, each terror-filled dream leaving him drenched in cold sweat and sick to his stomach. The words he knew he should speak to someone about felt lodged in his throat, impossible to express. Now, he stood there, eyes fixed on Shepard, waiting for the lifeline only she could throw. She always had an escape plan; it was the hallmark of N7 training.

Shepard noticed the nervous twitch of his eye. "We blow the sentarian ship to hell, scorch the surface.", she informed, loading a thermal clip into her rifle.

"But, what about her?" He pointed to Satima, who kept her gaze downward. "Is she capable of staying in control?" His throat constricted with regret. "I mean, will she be okay?"

Shepard glanced at Satima. "We find a way to save her and stop the infection. Then I find a way to purge the indoctrination."

Cortez's eyes widened, "Ma'am.", he responded, unsure.

James stepped up to his captain. "So, princess lola went loco on someone, huh?"

Shepard finished with her boots. "Yeah.", she revealed.

He whistled, glancing at Satima, then displayed a grin. "Nah. She didn't mean it. Maybe she just needs to get the anger out. Like you did with me."

She smiled in memory of their 'sparring' session. He needed to get out the frustrations of his failures to his CO and his team. And how angry he was, that alliance didn't update the intel, when Shepard cleared and destroyed the collector base on her own. Looking up to him, she shook her head, uncertain. "If it's that easy, maybe you should offer to be the punching bag.", Shepard suggested.

Satima listened but didn't respond. Garrus's gaze bore into her, unrelenting and fierce. She couldn't help but wonder: would he really end her existence to protect everyone?

The dangerous plan began to take shape, each detail etched with peril. Satima needed the warp gate coordinates to a spatial rift, a crucial path for the Normandy to reach Lithera. But to obtain them, they must embark on a deadly infiltration of the enemy vessel, fighting their way through the lower labs, all the while dodging the insidious threat of infection that lurked around every corner.

On the shuttle ride to the surface, Satima's hand trembled uncontrollably as she adjusted her helmet. Shepard had loaned her a set of N7 armor, modified to fit her frame and offer extra protection. It felt surreal, almost haunting, to see Satima clad in the gear that had seen Shepard through countless battles. The resemblance was uncanny—if only her daughter wasn't turning into Saren.

Satima glanced at them, beginning her warning, "Remember to keep your helmets on. Do not expose your body in the ship. If you have an open injury, alert the rest of the squad. Cover it quickly.", she started to have trouble breathing, but continued.

"Don't let the infected get too close. The spores can be seen, and their blood can infect you. After we get the data, we leave quickly. Use the sanitation hab in the camp to scrub our suits.", she informed.

Shepard stepped next to her with a raised brow. Satima noticed. "Sorry. Just... habit."

"Perfectly fine. You know more about the infection than I do.", Shepard commented.

Cortez skillfully landed the kodiak atop the warship. "It's going to feel a bit wobbly, but don't worry, I can handle it. Think you can, too, Satima?" he asked with a confident grin.

Satima met his gaze and chuckled, "I can balance better than you any day."

As they stepped out of the shuttle, Satima took the lead, guiding them to the emergency hatch she had used during her daring escape. "This way. We'll need to keep it propped open—it's a beast to lift," she warned, her eyes glinting with determination.

Garrus and James leaned down and lifted the hatch. "Dios. How did you lift this thing by yourself?", James quipped.

Satima smirked, "Desperation." She looked down the dark hole, glancing back to them. Satima put her legs in first, hopping down. Shepard took a good look around her. Volcanic eruptions in the far distance emitted black clouds into the sky, covering the sun. She watched everyone go in, following last.

Inside the dimly lit bridge, Satima led them to the open door. The bridge hatch was wide open. "Looks like your alliance finished opening the door. That's how they got in."

"And how the infected got out.", Shepard stated.

"Yeah.", Satima checked the walls for anything crawling. She doesn't want to be here, but duty and guilt have pushed her forward. So much guilt.
The bridge door tried to shut but opened again. A malfunction on deck controls. Satima broke the panel to keep it open. "This way.", she gestured with her pistol.

Shepard stepped next to her on their way through. "The infected rachni... are they also on Lithera?"

"Rachni?", Satima asked.

"You don't know what rachni are?", Shepard replied, stunned. "You said something about eggs. It had to be them."

Satima stopped, "They were brought with the rest of the fractured salvage, along with the survivor from HIVE. I've never heard of rachni before. Although they do look a lot like those reaper abominations on earth."

"Yeah.", Shepard spoke. "Those were reaper controlled. This infection could be a plague or a bio-weapon. Sounds similar to what happened on Omega. Only the plague was targeting every species, except humans." She pondered aloud. "That was years ago, though."

"Reapers.", Satima shook her head. "Their favorite past-time; experimentation."

Further down the corridor, an ominous, decaying smell permeated the air, causing James to grimace in disgust. Large, fuzzy spores floated around them, attaching themselves to the hull walls. They navigated around the highly contaminated areas, keen to avoid the spore-filled rooms. At the end of the first hallway, the sight of mangled marine bodies greeted them, a gruesome reminder to the danger lurking within. "That explains the smell," Satima remarked, her voice tinged with a mix of determination and dread.

"Poor bastards.", Garrus commented. "Looks like they were taken by surprise. Rachni are good at that." He eyed the hull ceiling above.

"We only saw a handful of sick marines, they were acting deranged. Why aren't they dead, too?', Shepard asked.

"The spread of the infection varies. One group could've been exposed first, contaminating the rest while they looked for a cure.", she pointed to the mangled bodies. "Looks like the carriers didn't take these.", Satima explained.

"Carriers?", Shepard asked.

"You said these bug creatures are rachni? Some of them take the bodies and… repurpose them. If they don't turn, then they are used as genetic plague." Satima pointed to a wall in the corner. A disgusting growth of parasitic means clung to the metal. "Spread that everywhere, and any population within miles will be infected in days."

They resumed past shut doors to other parts of the ship, all the way to an elevator. "Here.", Satima pointed.

"It's not working.", Garrus observed.

Satima put her pistol up, "I know. We're climbing down." She opened the double doors to reveal a pitch-black shaft. "Use your lights to see. Just don't make any extra noise. Draws them out."

Slowly, Satima led them down the shaft, gripping the notches purposefully forged into the metal for emergencies. Condensation from the intense heat below made the notches slippery, causing Shepard to lose her grip once or twice. Satima looked up. "Careful, Shepard. We can't have you falling down there."

"I'm getting a lot of deja vu here. Anyone else?", Garrus remarked.

Shepard chuckled, "Let's see. Omega?"

Garrus laughed, "Sometimes. I'm thinking more of the Ardat Yakshi monastery." He nearly lost his grip too, shaking his head in response. "But, maybe talking about it isn't such a good idea right now."

Satima smirked, "I remember." She stopped her smile, knowing there were more sinister things back on Lithera, things that whisper to you and guide you to horrible acts. "Guys. You will hear things. Screeches, scratching sounds... sometimes talking. The infected are just the first."

James looked down at her, "The first of what?! What else is there?"

"Sorry, James. I needed a tank, and couldn't have you staying back on the Normandy because of unknowns.", she replied.

Shepard glanced at Satima below her. "Unknowns?"

"Take what you know of indoctrination and twist it without a will, but a hunger. The infection consumes mind and body.", Satima informed. "You're a plague husk, remember? No thought or emotion."

"Dios.", James worried. "We seriously need to stop getting involved in spooky crap like this.", he complained.

"And that's what will happen to those marines and the three sentarians we spotted in the camp, days before? To you?", Shepard wondered, concerned, ignoring James's comment.

Satima stepped down another notch, careful to not lose her concentration while talking. "I can't be too sure. They might die of the symptoms before becoming what I described. It's all theory for me here, Akasia had the answers, but she was left behind on the moon base.", Satima answered.

"How did she have the answers?", Garrus asked, curiosity peaked.

"It's a long story.", Satima sighed, frustrated. "Let's just focus on the data and escaping, then we can discuss this in more detail. Safely on the Normandy."

Shepard looked down to check on Satima, remembering their half-discussed conversation. "So, who was the survivor you discovered on that ship fragment?" Nearly stepping on James's hand.

Satima turned her gaze upward, "She's an asari. I forgot her name."

"An asari?", Garrus asked. "On HIVE? I thought it was mostly a human-reaper controlled operation?" It sounded as much to him, anyway.

"That's what I said.", Satima replied, annoyed. "An asari. There were different levels on the station, with different species running it. But the reapers did have a special fascination with humans."

Halfway down to the labs, a sudden rumble filled the ship. Everyone held on tightly. Screeches echoed."Rachni?", Satima asked.

"You tell me.", Shepard stated. "You say they're carriers of this infection?", she inquired.

Satima admitted with a nod, "Those eggs in HIVE were injected with a bio-weapon. Akasia discovered it, and the survivor from the intact lab was a former scientist for them. She's behind their release."

"And you don't remember her name?", Garrus commented. "Can you really be that oblivious to the danger around you, Satima?", he accused.

She paused, absorbing his words. It was hard to focus on the details when haunted by dark memories. Determined, she stopped and forced herself to remember. "Shila...no," Satima muttered, gripping the metal ladder tightly. "Shiala!" she suddenly shouted, the name bursting forth like a revelation.

Chittering sounds surrounded them. Satima looked down with her flashlight. She saw dozens of rachni crawling up the shaft towards them. "Shit! Go back up!", she yelled.

The rest of the squad viewed the menace advancing toward them. Above James was a door. "I'll get it open.", he shouted.

Shepard reached his level, helping to pull the door apart. They grunted against the pressure. "Somethings behind it.", James remarked.

Garrus held out his taloned hand to Satima, who was further down. "Grab my hand!", he yelled. He glanced at the creatures steadily making their way to her.

She scrambled up the wall, deftly dodging the jagged debris jutting out. One of the rachni lunged at her, barely missing. Garrus leaned down precariously, his weight straining the support. Satima glanced up, realizing she needed to make a daring leap to the adjacent girder to reach him. "Hold on!" she called out, steeling herself for the jump.

Meanwhile, Shepard and James struggled to force the door open, their efforts culminating as a body suddenly fell through the gap. "Watch out!" Shepard yelled urgently, her voice echoing with alarm.

Garrus barely had time to duck the falling body before Satima made her leap. Her eyes widened as the body struck her mid-jump, sending her plummeting down the dark shaft with alarming speed. The rachni carriers shrieked in unison, their cries echoing down the shaft as they followed her descent.

"Satima!" Garrus roared, his voice a mix of panic and determination.

Shepard climbed onto the deck, her movements quick and deliberate, helping Garrus and James scramble in. "Where's Satima?" she demanded, urgency lacing her voice.

Garrus, his face etched with worry, pointed towards the shaft. "Down there," he croaked hoarsely, his throat raw from shouting her name.

"We've got to save her. Now!" Shepard commanded.
..............................................................
Fourth floor
Engineering

Satima woke with a start, her senses assaulted by the heavy, raspy breathing of a carrier looming over her. Its bug-like eyes stared unblinkingly, sending chills down her spine. She scrambled backward, her movements frantic and uncoordinated. The carrier leaned closer, its gaze piercing and curious. It ignored her, moving on.

Satima stood up, her eyes widening at the sight of dozens of rachni carriers swarming the area. The air was thick with the stench of death as they dragged the lifeless bodies of marines from above. She began to cough violently, each breath a struggle against the searing pain in her lungs. Desperately, she pressed herself against the hull wall, closing her eyes and willing the episode to end. Her lungs felt like they were on fire, heavy with the agony she now shared with the fallen. She couldn't help but think of the souls she had unintentionally brought to this harrowing fate.

Opening her eyes, she noticed the faint glow of emergency lights, casting eerie shadows and marking a path back to the shaft. They had brought her here unharmed, but why? Was she meant to witness her own slow demise, or be transformed into one of those ghastly grey husks? Her heart pounded as she cautiously moved forward, every step a silent plea for survival, careful not to draw any attention from the carriers.

One carrier glanced in her direction, while another sniffed the air, their movements eerily slow and deliberate. They seemed to be in a state of anticipation, standing around or crouching in corners, waiting for some unseen signal. If these creatures didn't care about her presence now, then it should be easy to recover the data, find Shepard, and leave.

The real challenge would arise if Shepard started searching for her. Satima knew she had to pick up the pace, her heart racing as she made her way to an emergency ladder. She clambered up swiftly, each rung bringing her closer to the hope that Shepard hadn't ventured too far. She needed to find her before the infected closed in on them.
..................................................................
Deck two
Barracks and Quarters.

Shepard led them through the darkness, careful of any noise or movement.

"You think she's still alive?", James asked.

"She's got to be.", Shepard hoped. That was a long fall, right into enemy territory. Her body could be mangled, broken. She could be dying.

Noises came ahead. They stopped, weapons aimed. A group of carriers shot out of the darkness, running towards them. "Fire!", Shepard shouted.

Thermal bullets burned apart their hard flesh, spattering dark blood over the walls and floor. Dying screeches filled the hall, causing more to appear around them. Shepard led them forward, fighting their way through the horde, avoiding blood and bites.

"Relentless little bastards!", Garrus commented. He put one down overhead from a vent. James pummeled two of them into the wall, flinching back from blood spurts. "Gonna be hard to avoid getting dirty in tight corners!", he complained.

"Fight smart! Kick them back, then fire.", Shepard ordered.

Her team followed her lead, with Garrus expertly taking down one of the infected rachni, his rifle barking as he emptied a clip into its writhing form. Meanwhile, James charged forward, narrowly dodging the swipe of a monstrous claw. In the distance, a single door stood ajar at the end of the corridor, a beacon of hope amidst the chaos. Once they reached the end room, James swiftly slammed the door shut while Garrus heaved heavy debris to barricade it. The urgency in his voice was unmistakable, "That's not going to hold them for long. Shepard, we need to get to deck four now!"

She panted from the running, putting her rifle up to explore. "I know. We'll find a way down. James, keep an eye on the door. Garrus, come with me. There's another room in here."

Stepping through the second door, they observed a room full of beds and sentarian design lockers. VI panels lined each one, giving a personal touch to the soldiers who bunked here. "There's got to be a hatch somewhere in here. A way out.", Shepard commented.

"I can't reach Satima.", Garrus worried using his comms. "It's nothing but static."

Shepard turned to him, "She's alive. I know it. We'll find her and get that data."

He nodded, returning to look around the room. Garrus walked to a locker that was already opened. The VI spoke softly in sentarian, lighting up the inside. Objects and other broken pieces filled the space. He closed it silently. Whoever this belonged to is probably dead now.

Shepard moved a tiered bunk, squinting at the sharp noise it made. "Well, that wasn't quiet.", she laughed, nervously. Underneath was a hatch. "Found it.", she stated.

James called out. "Captain! They're breaking though!"

Infected rachni soldiers were using their claws to slice through the metal debris.

"Leave it. The hatch is here.", she informed.

Garrus opened it to more darkness. "Wake me up when this nightmare is over.", he complained.

Shepard darted in first, with Garrus and a clearly rattled James hot on their heels. With a swift movement, he slid the hatch over them and used his omni-tool to lock it tight. At least this would buy them some time from the relentless carriers. But a nagging thought lingered—what if more awaited them below? The dimly lit corridor seemed to stretch endlessly, every shadow a potential threat, every noise a harbinger of doom. They had to move, and fast.

Meanwhile, Satima slowly ascended the ladder, cautiously stopping if a carrier got too noisy. She let out a sigh of relief when it ignored her again. Once on deck four, she held out her pistol, aiming ahead of her. Her light growing dim from landing on it in the fall. "Come on.", she hit it to make it bright again.

The corridor was lined with labs, some of their doors sealed shut, while others gaped open like waiting mouths. The faint sound of scratching emanated from behind the closed ones, sending chills down Satima's spine. Fortunately, the data they needed was in an open room, though the possibility of a lurking carrier was always present.

With bated breath, Satima led the way, her pistol drawn and ready. She slipped into the room, her back pressed against the wall, moving with the stealth of a shadow.

A large display on the far wall flickered to life, revealing intricate schematics and biological data of the sentarians. Their mission to the moon base, once deemed a bold venture, now seemed like a fool's errand. Satima's mind raced to the freighter Endeavor, the very ship that had hovered in orbit as her vessel crash-landed. She wondered if they had managed to open the door.

Satima's eyes darted over the flickering panel display. The infection had spread, and chaos was inevitable. Those fools had likely infected others by now, and if a rachni carrier was on board, they were in serious trouble.

A sudden scuffling noise behind her snapped her to attention. She whirled around, her heart racing, only to find the corridor eerily empty. She returned to the display, where she rapidly downloaded the crucial data.
The concept of using a spatial rift for the Normandy was fraught with danger. Sentarian ships were designed to endure such perilous journeys, but whether they could escape this nightmarish place remained uncertain.

Time was ticking, and every second counted.

Deck Four
Virology Lab

Shepard opened the hatch to land down into the room. She observed her surroundings, signaling for Garrus and James to follow. The only door leading out was shut. "Damn. We need to get that door open.", she pointed.

Garrus walked to it. "Sealed tight. I can torch it open, but it could take a while."

"Could two torches help?", James added.

"It might.", Garrus replied, with a grin.

Shepard stood to the side, rifle over her shoulder. "Get to it. I'll check the hatch and the vent over there."

The vent was eerily silent as Shepard paced beneath it, her nerves taut with anticipation. What else could she do but watch as they struggled to open the door? Her eyes roved over the dark walls and dimly lit spaces, remnants of what might have once been a bustling warship. She imagined it filled with a proud and experienced crew, now reduced to mere echoes and graves. In the corner lay scattered trash beneath a large metal desk, its simple design evoking memories of the Normandy.

An eerie feeling crept up before she heard screeching sounds coming from outside the sealed door. They stopped to listen. "You hear something?", James asked.

"Sounds like footsteps.", Garrus commented.

Shepard stepped to them, holding her rifle. The noise got closer, imitating careful footfalls. Another screech came down the hallway outside the door and the footsteps hurriedly ran back from its origin.

They heard a grunt followed by a squishing sound, then a thud. The footsteps returned but sounded slowed. Whoever it was, had to of been hurt. "Hold on.", Shepard murmured.

She opened her comms."...satima...", she whispered.

The footsteps stopped.

"Are you outside a sealed door on deck four?", Shepard asked.

From the other side of the door, they heard a voice, faint and barely audible. "Shepard?" They heard a thud against the door.

"Get this door open!", Shepard ordered.

James and Garrus double-timed it, creating a long stretch of melted metal between the door panels. Together they opened it for Satima to fall in. Shepard leaned out to help her. "Satima... Satima...", she repeated, touching her forehead, "She's burning hot.", Shepard complained.

Garrus knelt, picking Satima up urgently. "We need to get out of here, now."

Shepard's voice was sharp, filled with desperation. "What about the data? Without it, she'll die."

Garrus looked over at Satima, he stared at Shepard. "She can't stay on this ship and fight.", he argued. "She's too weak."

James pointed with his rifle, down the hallway to rachni carriers approaching. "Whatever we're doing, it better be fast."

"We'll have to mow them down to get to another hatch. Take it all the way to the bridge.", Shepard cautioned.

James and Shepard fired relentlessly at the carriers, determination etched on their faces as Garrus cradled Satima protectively. They fought their way through the chaos, making a dash toward a hatch. With every step, the air grew thicker with tension. Reaching the hatch, they descended the ladder cautiously, moving past two decks to the bridge.

Satima, regaining consciousness, struggled to climb alongside them. Her weakened state posed a significant challenge, making every movement a battle. Below them, the rachni swarmed, their relentless pursuit adding to the urgency. Each rung of the ladder felt like an eternity, as they could hear the creatures' sinister clicking below.

On the second floor, Garrus gently laid the half-conscious Satima against the hull wall, his gaze fierce as he turned to confront the approaching threat. The rachni were relentless, forcing their way through the narrow hatch, their menacing clicks echoing in the confined space. "We need to seal this part of the ship to buy us some time!" he shouted, urgency burning in his eyes.

"Agreed! James, you see anything that could block them out for a while?", Shepard yelled.

James used his carnage round on a group of rachni pouring through a vent. He spotted overhanging girders that could be knocked down over the hatch, blocking the third deck doors. "Yeah!", he replied. James threw a grenade at the metal girders, shouting a warning to the crew.

Shepard leaned protectively over Satima, her eyes scanning the chaos around them. As the grenade detonated, a thunderous explosion reverberated through the ship, dislodging girders and sending them crashing down over the doors and hatch. The sound of far-off screeching echoed through the corridors, a clear signal that the rachni were retreating.

"Good.", Garrus panted, running away from the explosion. "Keep the bastards off our backs. Nice job, Vega."

James sighed, setting his rifle over his shoulder satisfied. "What can I say? I'm a problem solver.", he smirked.

Garrus laughed, "Satima was right. You are a tank! Could've used you on Omega!"

As the men laughed, Shepard's concern deepened. She knelt beside Satima, her eyes narrowing as she listened to the labored breaths. "Guys, she can hardly breathe," Shepard said, her voice tinged with urgency. "It's getting worse. We need to do something, and fast."

They double-timed it to the bridge, adrenaline coursing through their veins. Garrus carried Satima as Shepard and James encountered a pack of infected sentarians. They fought with ferocity, each moment a dance between life and death.

"Damn!" Shepard shouted, her voice a mix of frustration and resolve.

One of them hissed, "She calls us to control... she calls us to take... you will give what is hers..."

"What is hers?" Shepard retorted, her voice sharp. "You're sick, infected!"

The middle male sentarian's lips curled into a sinister smile, his teeth smeared with grey blood. "You will give what is hers," he repeated, his tone dripping with malice.

Above them, a voice shouted. "GET DOWN!"

Shepard pushed her crew to a corner when a loose grenade was tossed into the bridge. It exploded, blowing away the infected into bloody chunks. Two loud thuds landed on the deck with them. Amidst the bloody smoke, Shepard could make out the figures.

"Ashley?", she spoke relieved. Then squinted her eyes to make out another figure. "Ronin?"

He let out a smirk, "Captain. We found the Endeavor. It led us back here.", he replied. Ronin nodded to James, quickly frowning to see Satima in Garrus's arms. "What happened?", he asked alarmed.

Shepard walked forward. "She's infected."

Ashley stared in concern. "Oh, no.", she spoke, glancing at Ronin.

Back in the medbay on the Normandy, the air was thick with tension. Satima lay unconscious, her fever raging, while Ronin paced restlessly in the mess. Shepard and Garrus were locked in a heated discussion, with Ashley standing rigidly at attention.

"This contagion is from Satima's timeline," Shepard explained, her voice laced with urgency. "It's the Reapers. We're trying to gather data to open a spatial rift and reach the sentarian home world. They have the means to save her."

"Spirits.", Ronin replied.

"What happened to the Endeavor?", Garrus asked.

Ronin's gaze fell upon Satima, who lay in fitful slumber, as Ashley began to speak. "They docked at a colony within Alliance space. The sickness spread swiftly, leaving death in its wake. We encountered a group of them—twisted, almost like husks, but far more terrifying," she shivered. "Within two weeks, the colony was decimated. Now..." she paused, her eyes reflecting the horror, "it's a ghost town. Our only hope was to trace the Endeavor's coordinates back to their origin. Nepmos."

"And the crew of the Endeavor?", Shepard inquired.

Ronin continued the briefing, "Captain Marley killed her crew. Committing suicide after the first set of colonists died. She didn't know they were infected, claiming shadows resembling creatures, took her and another crew member. Marley complained of whispers, but it wasn't coherent between the violent coughing and sudden outburst of anger.", Ronin answered.

"That's because she controls it. The infection," Satima's voice cut through the silence. She stood behind them, her pallor ghostly and eyes shadowed with dark circles.

"Satima, you need to rest," Shepard commanded, her tone brooking no argument.

"Not yet," Satima insisted, her voice strained. "I have the data. We can find Lithera," she declared, eyes burning with determination.

Garrus couldn't fathom how she was standing. Her fever raged over a hundred degrees, her breaths ragged and shallow. "How did you manage it? We didn't get the data," he pressed, tension etching his features.

"While you were trapped behind a door," she smirked, her voice laced with a hint of triumph. But the moment was fleeting. Satima's legs buckled, and she nearly collapsed. Garrus sprang to her side, catching her just in time and supporting her as they made their way to the medbay.

Ronin started to follow when Shepard stopped him. "It's a risk. Are you sure you're willing to take it?" Her gaze searched at him.

He looked ahead, then back to her. "Yes."

Ashley stepped forward, "We've been exposed for weeks now. It wouldn't matter anyways."

Shepard nodded, gravely. "I'm sorry you both were dragged into this, unknowingly of the infection. Satima should've told me from the start."

Ronin had nothing to say, agreeing with Shepard, but he felt something again for Satima. Or, maybe it never really faded? He couldn't understand it, now. Only hope the spirits guide them to a cure, or the whole galaxy will suffer.
..........................................................
Sentarian Command Ship
En route through temporal portal
One year ago

Mem-Zurah stood on her command deck, surveying the vastness of space before her. Since Callon's demise, everything had become clearer. Her people needed saving, but not through the chaos he had sought to unleash. Callon had wanted turmoil to rescue their kind, but Mem-Zurah knew better.

The humans had their own villain, someone who thrived on chaos. Who was it? Ah, yes, the Illusive Man. She mused that it only takes one individual to send ripples through the galaxy, causing everything to fall into disarray. Like trellin stones, all they needed was a single push to tumble in the direction of chaos and defeat, driven by one person's dark ambition.
Mem-Zurah's resolve hardened. She would not let her people fall to such despair. She would find a way to save them, without resorting to the madness that Callon had once embraced.

Mem-Zurah paced around her crew, a victorious smile on her lips as they discovered the temporal portal. The atmosphere buzzed with excitement and hope, but she knew all too well that hope could sometimes blind one to the harsh realities of the universe. What awaited them when they returned home? Several transmissions had already come in from the home planet, each one adding to the knot of anxiety tightening in her gut.

Despite the growing unease, she shook off her fears and began issuing commands with a determined resolve. This was a moment of triumph, and she needed to lead her people forward. Yet the question lingered in her mind: would everything truly be alright? She couldn't help but wonder as she looked at the faces of her crew, filled with anticipation and a spark of hope. Only time would tell if their journey would bring salvation or further chaos.

Akasia and Satima stood together, anxious to see the home system. To see the home world. Bustling with their people. Safe and free of the reapers.

"Reaching designation two. Temporal portal is stable.", a crewman stated.

"Acknowledged.", Mem-Zurah answered. "I want full comms open. All stations."

Satima and Akasia stood by watching the deck with anticipation.
"So, now that you're a sentarian. How do you feel about joining our military?", Akasia asked.

Satima turned to her, "What would be my pay?"

They both laughed.

Five more minutes. The temporal portal showed billions of small stars, all swirling into blackness as they passed further into the tunnel. The entire council of the Assembly crowded behind them. Sure, in their High-Commander's ability to bring them home.

Two minutes.

"Ma'am. There's some static coming in from one of the comms. It's sketchy, but I think I can clean it up.", an ensign alerts.

"Do it.", Mem-Zurah ordered.

Akasia watches the Assembly begin to mumble among themselves. She leans in to Mem-Zurah."I got a funny feeling."

Mem-Zurah glances at her sister then back to the cockpit window. "Armor up.", she orders. Everyone is starting to get nervous. Satima steps closer to the radar panel. "There's something there.", she says aloud.

50 Seconds.

"Ma'am. I have it cleared. You're going to want to hear this.", the ensign discovers.

Mem-Zurah opens it to the command deck.

"...hundreds are infected...repeat..do
not...land...base...quarantine...infection..."

The high-commander's eyes widened when they finally reached the end of the portal. A Reaper filled the system, right in front of their pathway from the warp gate. Lights blinded the deck as the ship's sirens blared around them.

"Brace for impact!", Mem-Zurah yelled.