Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Fathar System
Old Batarian Hegemony Space

"The created has always rebelled against their creators.", the insidious figure stated, turning to a small group of system refugees facing the bridge in a massive dreadnought of size and terror. She observed the humans huddled in fear while she stepped forward, passing them slowly.

"I must restore order." Her tone remained stern, a resolute demand. The invasive chorus of the call cycled without pause; driving, controlling, and pulling her to commit without question.

Piercing green eyes stared at their malnourished faces. "These primitive mammals.", she thought while studying one of them. A human male hesitantly approached her. The grime on his face made an impression, as an eager plea in his voice barely could be heard.

He restrained himself from shaking with horror, wincing from the pain of strained muscles. He lowered his gaze in a submissive manner. "We only took safe passage through the system. The hybrid left us; we don't know where she went." The man took a hard gulp. "Please, don't hurt my family."

There was no emotion on her face, no way of knowing if she was angry or humored. She reached out, grabbing him by the remains of his tattered clothing twisting the cloth cruelly to bring him closer. He swallowed, sweat beading down his forehead. Brown eyes stared in fear.

His toes dug hard in scuffed boots, worn with use, trying to stop the inhuman strength that held him. She leaned forward face to face with the male. "Their lives are meaningless to me." A sharp smile curved into a devious grin. "But I'll take your sacrifice all the same."

His family was dragged away, whimpering, by a soldier clad in pitch tones. The male watched on helplessly until he got the nerve to face her.
Fear washed away with anger and violence as he lunged himself to try anything; any punishment this thing deserved.

Reaching out with a tired fist to punch while feeling his body surge with adrenaline, it soon passed quickly as jelly legs tripped him to his knees. Or did she step back so coolly, with such ease from his efforts?

A smirk painted the face in partial shadow from the dark ship. He watched as a pistol aimed toward him and fired. The loud crack of a clip dispersing was the last sound heard on the deck.

The villain, Reaper, returned to the bridge windows. Her right eye twitched, a single moment of response while the rest of the humans were removed from her sight.

Attican Traverse

Looking out the cockpit window, Satima let out a long, weary sigh. She had spent five relentless years at this console, with the last three flying solo through the cold, unforgiving void of space. Suddenly, a small blip appeared on her ship's radar, wrenching her from her thoughts. Rising to check the engines for another emissions leak, she wondered about her last delivery. Did it reach its destination?

As a smuggling mercenary for hire, Satima lived in constant fear of the Directive. These Reaper remnants, fragments of once-unstoppable machines, had lingered ominously after the stalemate decades ago. The stalemate that began near Earth—a tale Borlask often recounted with a haunted look in his eyes. Satima would sigh in exasperation, listening to the old man's stories of battles and terror she was too young to have witnessed.

People often poured into their base, stirring a dangerous curiosity that Borlask tried in vain to quash. He kept Satima hidden, sometimes locking her away. If people knew what pursued her, they'd sell the tip in a heartbeat, and the Directive would have their prey.

Satima came to appreciate the old man as he taught her to fly older class spacecraft, his voice gruff yet gentle. The time soon came for her to venture out on her own. If there was a boogie man waiting for her, she'd confront them and put her childhood fears to rest. But time crawled when you were waiting for the bad guys. You forgot to live, to explore. Satima’s ghosts of her past, clung to her, making her wary of getting close to anyone.

It was just her and the ship she called home. The decks echoed with the occasional hum of working control panels, a faint counterpoint to the oppressive silence. In time, loneliness enveloped her, and she ferried passengers or cargo through perilous routes, seeking some semblance of purpose.

One group—a salarian family—booked passage, smuggled from ship to ship, hoping to find a haven. Only one place far from the Directive's shadow offered that lie: the seedy station Omega.

Afterlife was a hive of danger, with gangs clashing for territory. Each faction fought for power, but the queen of chaos never managed to quell the violence. Rumors of her death clung to every corner, like the grime in its bowels.

Omega was a den of criminals. Protections were bought and sold so frequently that it was impossible to know which gang still ruled. Satima fought her way through countless scrapes, always one step ahead of those who'd take her ship and leave her for dead. She took no joy in the fight but let nothing stand in her way. Survival meant avoiding suspicion. So why did she feel complicit every damn time?

One fateful night at the station, she encountered one victim too many. When someone else finally decided the violence had to stop, she joined in. It took two pistol shots and a shotgun blast to the face. That's when she met...

"JORMUN!"

Ship alarms blared throughout Haven. Yellow and red lights flashed in second loops across the ship floor siding.

Ship alarms blared throughout Haven, yellow and red lights flashing in a frantic rhythm. Satima slid across the grated floor, crashing into her pilot chair. Leaping into the seat, holo controls materialized before her, giving her range and weapons lock on a fighter—an enhanced vessel, courtesy of the Directive, capable of FTL travel faster than most ships.

The fighter locked onto Haven's trajectory. Visiting the refugee facility had always been a risk. Satima hadn't been home in months. Her comms buzzed with static, Jormun's voice barely audible. She slammed her fist on the navigation panel. "Do'ova! Give me comms back!"

The salarian scrambled down the deck, her large dark eyes blinking furiously as she worked on the terminals. "Dammit!" she yelled, her high-pitched voice piercing the tension.

Do'ova rerouted the signal, using all power from the long-range scanner, risking a severe reduction in all electrical grids. "I'm getting a signal from the mountain range. It's Borlask!" Jormun's voice crackled through the comms from the engine room.

Satima's smirk was a blend of relief and amusement. "Good! About damn time! Jormun, eliminate this piece of scrap!"

Jormun ran from the engine room to the cannon panel. It was behind the cockpit in view of Satima. He brought up the grid and locked on to the enemy vessel, gliding his suited fingers to tap commands over the console. Immediately, emp blows hit the fighter, losing navigational input and flying blind right into a communication satellite dish.

Satima watched through her cockpit viewing the scout craft explode into orange fire. "Looks like I owe Borlask a new one!" She laughed.
Jormun thanked his ancestors it worked. Secretly stealing a glance of his young captain leaning over her console.

Do'ova sprinted to the front, short of breath and full of anxiety. "Is it over? Did we make it?"
Hands to hips, with a wry smirk, Satima answered her crew member. "No. We decided to give up." She shook her head as the salarian crew mate stared ahead in confusion.

Satima chuckled at Do'ova's bewildered expression. "Relax, Do'ova. We handled it. The scout craft is history, and we're all still in one piece."

Do'ova exhaled loudly, relief washing over her features. "Thank the stars. I thought we were goners for sure."

Jormun, still at the cannon panel, couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. They had managed to outmaneuver and outgun the enemy craft, a feat that had seemed nearly impossible just moments before.

"Good work, Jormun," Satima called out, her tone genuine. "Your quick thinking saved us."

Jormun nodded, a modest smile playing on his lips. "Just doing my job, Captain."

The crew of the Starship Haven had faced many perils together, but this latest encounter had tested their limits. As the adrenaline slowly faded, they began to return to their stations, each member silently reflecting on the narrow escape.  Satima, ever vigilant, resumed her position at the console, scanning for any signs of further threats. "Everyone, stay sharp. We can't afford to let our guard down."

The crew acknowledged her command, their determination renewed. They had been through too much to falter now.

Beneath the surface of their misfit resolve, however, lay a deep bond forged through countless battles. They were more than just a crew; they were becoming a family, bound by their shared experiences and unwavering loyalty to one another.

As Jormun resumed his duties, he couldn't help but steal another glance at Satima. She was a fierce leader, a beacon of strength in the chaos of space. And though he would never admit it aloud, he admired her more than he could put into words.

Do'ova, now more composed, joined Jormun at the console. "You really pulled through back there," she said, clapping Jormun on the shoulder.

"Thanks, Do'ova," Jormun replied, his voice steady. "But it was a team effort. We all played our part."

The salarian nodded, a rare smile gracing her features. "You're right. Together, we're unstoppable."

As the hours passed, the crew settled into a comfortable rhythm, their confidence bolstered by their recent victory. Satima, always the watchful leader, took a moment to address her crew.

"Listen up, everyone. We've been through a lot, and we've come out stronger because of it. But we can't afford to become complacent. We need to stay sharp, stay focused, and continue working together as a team."

Her words were met with nods of agreement and murmurs of assent. The crew understood the gravity of their situation and the importance of their missions. Jormun, ever the engineer at heart, spent his free time tinkering with the ship's systems, always looking for ways to improve their efficiency and performance. Do'ova, with her keen intellect, often assisted, offering insights and suggestions that proved invaluable.

Satima, for her part, never lost sight of the bigger picture. She held regular briefings, ensuring that her crew was informed and prepared for whatever lay ahead regarding HIVE and the Directive.

They passed safely into the atmosphere of the planet Lorek, landing on the flat icy surface of the permafrost-covered mountain.

The dangerous weather provided cover from the surface and long-range scans for them. A constant blizzard blew across the mountaintops, delivering blankets of white snow over the landing zone.

Borlask would employ the occasional refugee to go out and face the harsh freezing weather, clearing off most of the snow for visible landing.
After the Haven had docked, Satima and Jormun stepped down the ramp of the cargo bay away from their previous warm environment. Her gear was worn tightly due to the freezing temperature. Haven's exterior lighting provided a path to the old facility's entrance.

A door cut perfectly in the side of the glacier rock had slid open. Harsh light poured out on the ground. From the doorframe, a suited man walked out, grumbling to himself loudly against the snow. Borlask is a batarian; One of few left in the galaxy. He wore yellow and black armor with the visor of his helmet glazed in iridescent silver. Satima had known him since she was sixteen.

He approached with purposeful strides, each step crunching through the freshly fallen snow. Borlask's breath steamed against his helmeted visor. "Satima!" He yelled, irritated. "You blew up more of my communicators! I don't put them out there for you to use as weapons!"

Satima could tell he had all eyes on her with a nasty glare through his visor. She smirked as he struggled further to reach her, shaking her helmeted head. "How else was I supposed to get away?" Satima replied sarcastically, pushing past him.

Do'ova stayed behind on Haven, watching from the bay doors. Too cold and too awkward. She hated being in crowds. Even with her captain and Jormun. They always acted so confident and smug when being here. Especially the captain. She wished she could be just as brave.

She had always admired the captain’s ability to stride purposefully through any crowd, to command attention and respect with just a glance. Jormun, with his easy charm and boisterous laugh, seemed to fit in effortlessly wherever he went. They were like twin suns, radiating confidence and warmth, while she felt like a distant star, cold and detached.

But what if her crewmates didn't realize that her strength lay in her quiet observation? While they were the face and voice of their mission, she was the unseen guardian, the one who noticed the small details that could make or break their plans. Was it really she who ensured their safety when the captain's bravado might lead them into danger, and Jormun's recklessness might provoke unnecessary conflict?

Do'ova's thoughts drifted back to the countless times she believed she had saved them from unseen threats. The time she had spotted a concealed trap just in time to divert their path. She took a deep breath, letting the cool air fill her lungs. No, she wasn't like the captain or Jormun, and she didn't need to be—did she? Her bravery, if it could be called that, was different, quieter, but no less important. She found solace, or tried to, in the knowledge that she played an indispensable role in their journey, even if it went unrecognized.

Her place was here on Haven, watching and ensuring that her captain and Jormun could continue to shine. And in her own way, that made her just as brave—didn't it?

The quarian opted to join Satima, following behind her. Jormun's presence was a silent reminder of the Quarians' unyielding resilience and their indomitable spirit. He moved with a calculated grace, his gaze unwavering as he trailed his captain.

Borlask's disapproval was palpable. He had always been vocal about his disdain for the Quarians. Their decision to quarantine their systems had led to a cascade of consequences that rippled through the galaxy. Refugees flooded into new territories, bringing with them tales of despair and survival. Borlask's home was no exception; the influx of refugees had strained resources and ignited tensions.

Yet, despite the animosity, there was something about Jormun that demanded respect. Perhaps it was his unspoken loyalty to Satima or the quiet strength he exuded in the face of adversity.

Borlask's grunt of disapproval faded into the background. Batarians were not known for their humane treatment and sympathetic views, but he's seen enough suffering on all sides.

But to him, Quarians were cowards in his eyes and the fact Satima was with one, boiled his blood.

As they moved towards the facility entrance, the blizzard's howl grew quieter, the thick walls of the mountains providing some respite from the relentless wind. The facility itself was a relic from a bygone era, its architecture a testament to the resilience of those who once inhabited Lorek.

Borlask led the way as his familiarity with the facility was evident in his confident stride. Satima and Jormun followed closely, their footsteps echoing softly in the stillness. Every corner they turned revealed more of the facility's utilitarian design, a stark contrast to the harsh beauty of the landscape outside.

Borlask stopped before stepping inside the mess hall and did his usual growl at Jormun. "Remember to keep your filthy hands off my stuff." He leaned in close to Jormun's helmeted face. "And off of Satima.", snarling with his threat.

Jormun ignored him and sat down at a table in the compound's mess hall, warming himself under one of the various heating vents. He took Ish, his favorite shotgun, and sat the weapon on his lap clicking a mod skillfully wishing Borlask could see his one-sided smile.

The room was filled with various consoles and screens, some displaying data streams while others showed static images of the surrounding area. A few refugees and workers moved about, their faces etched with determination and fatigue. Jormun was reminded of the crowded Flotillas that stayed in orbit above Rannoch, protecting their precious home.

The old batarian left Jormun alone. He had more important matters to deal with; signaling the captain, once his ward, to follow.

"We've had some trouble with the power generators," Borlask explained as they reached a junction. "The cold's taken a toll on the machinery. We're working on repairs, but it might take a while."

Satima nodded, understanding the challenges they faced. "We'll help where we can," she offered, her resolve unwavering despite the daunting task ahead.

Borlask gave a curt nod of appreciation. "Make yourselves comfortable," He said, gesturing to a corner where a small heater provided a modicum of warmth.

As Satima and Jormun settled in, they couldn't help but observe determination laced with fear with those around them. Despite the harsh conditions and the formidable challenges, they were united in their purpose of survival. The facility, though cold and unyielding, had become a beacon of hope for those who sought refuge on Lorek.

Borlask found himself anxiously watching Satima chat quickly with a few human refugees, offering transport services for creds. She never involved herself in their troubles, afraid of tipping off the Directive and worse. Borlask had known her for a long time. He gave her advice, weapons, and an old ship.

She took them all with as much gratitude as a greedy vorcha. But he couldn't help but worry about the woman she was growing to be. He knows calling himself a father figure would be too much of an attachment.

After all, he wanted her to be greedy for life. Taking what she needs and never meddling in the sinister affairs of the galaxy. They both know what that looks like. Her more than anyone. That quarian male still stared at her. Borlask shook his head, feeling a pang of concern. What a foolish boy.

The great mess hall had a high vaulted metal ceiling with four large heating vents dividing the room. Great square windows for the little bit of light that did peer through the storm clouds. Rows of mess tables and chairs filled the area away from the consoles and screens that alerted to any suspicious activity. Many different species ate and congregated together despite differences and even older animosity.

Quarters were divided between them and the few bits of staff he kept on. Hard work with little promise of safety wasn't exactly a dream job, although the credits weren't so bad.

Borlask used this jewel in the system to house those fleeing The Directive. Leaving destruction in their wake, it became hard for the poorer factions to rebuild after the Reapers.

The human factions, resilient and adaptable, saw the opportunity amidst the chaos. They expanded rapidly, establishing outposts on habitable planets and converting the remnants of older colonies into thriving multi-species hubs. However, not all was idyllic. The scars left by the Reapers and The Directive's oppressive hand were still fresh. Many of the poorer factions, those without the means to rebuild quickly, languished in the ruins of their former homes.

These factions often found themselves at the mercy of more powerful entities, struggling to survive in the new order of the galaxy.

For the Turians, the galaxy's upheaval was both a curse and a call to arms. Renowned for their military prowess, they found themselves in demand as mercenaries. Ship stations like Omega became their strongholds, where their skills were bartered for resources and protection. The two colonies that supported dextro life became their sanctuaries, places where Turian culture and society could endure.

Yet, this mercenary life was fraught with peril. The Directive's influence loomed large, and every contract, every battle fought was a means to keep them at bay. It was a precarious existence, one that demanded constant vigilance and sacrifice. The Turians, proud and unyielding, bore this burden with a stoic resolve, determined to carve out a space for their people amidst the galaxy's turmoil.

Even if it meant losing their sense of justice.

The Asari were always a special bunch. With their long lifespans and unique biotic abilities, they remained enigmatic to many. Hoarding their lush and over-indulged, mini-worlds, which were paradises that few outsiders could access. Three key stations scattered throughout the galaxy served as their outposts, places where Asari influence extended through trade and diplomacy.

However, beneath this veneer of serenity lay darker undertones. Rumors circulated of Asari meddling with The Directive, sinister whispers that spoke of alliances and secret experiments. The scavenging missions, seen as mere expeditions for resources, were suspected of having ulterior motives. The Asari played a delicate game, balancing their public image with hidden agendas, always one step ahead in the galactic chessboard.

Amidst this backdrop of uncertainty and strife, Borlask's compound stood as an anomaly. It was a sanctuary for those fleeing The Directive, a place where the oppressed could find refuge. The compound, though small, was fortified and self-sufficient, a testament to Borlask's vision and leadership. It housed a diverse population, each member contributing to the community's survival.

Yet, maintaining this haven was a monumental task. Resources were scarce, and the ever-present threat of The Directive loomed large. Borlask's leadership was constantly tested, as he navigated the complex web of alliances and enmities that defined the galaxy. The compound's existence was a beacon of hope, but it was also a fragile construct, dependent on the unwavering resolve of its inhabitants.

Looking over at Satima a sudden memory of when he first met her washed over him. Borlask had stumbled upon Satima during one of his scavenging missions with a merc group. She was captured and waiting to be delivered back to the HIVE. He had nearly overlooked her, a fragile figure huddled in a cage. But something in her eyes, a desperate glimmer of hope, had compelled him to reach out.

Satima was barely alive, her frail body battered by the relentless hardships she had faced. Borlask found himself uncharacteristically moved by her plight.

In the days before the Reapers, Borlask's heart had been hardened by a lifetime of conflict and betrayal. His trust in others had been shattered time and again, leaving him wary of forming any meaningful connections. The suffering of his people had fueled a deep-seated animosity towards others, and he had become a solitary figure, driven by vengeance and survival.

The Reapers' invasion had changed everything. The once clear lines between friend and foe blurred as humanity and the galaxy faced an unprecedented threat. Borlask had witnessed the carnage, the indiscriminate slaughter of men, women, and children of all species. The anguish etched on the faces of those who had lost everything forced him to confront his own prejudices and reconsider his stance.

Caring for Satima became a turning point for Borlask. Under his watchful eye, Satima's strength grew. She transformed from a vulnerable child into a resilient young woman, determined to contribute to their struggle for survival.

Her young voice echoed to him across the hall, snapping himself out of the memory and thoughts. "Hey Borlask, you ever worry about the buildup of ice caps changing positions on you?" She stared, folding her arms smugly. So sure of her intellect.

It looked concerned, at least to him, but at times her gaze caused confusion. "My people proved it was a false environmental reading." Borlask laughed dismissively. His jest faded, letting out a low snarl. "Damn, Asari. Always meddling where they don't belong." He mumbled taking off his helmet. All his black eyes stared around him.

Satima chuckled to herself gazing down to walk a few steps in his direction. "Until you wake up a frozen popsicle buried under miles of ice"
Borlask laughed loudly. After a moment, his merriment died down. He turned slowly, glancing to the ground, then back to her. Something had bothered him.

"Satima.", he called. "I want to speak about something important with you." Borlask often gave no emotional hints, but his eye was twitching.
Satima clicked her comms to a private channel. She didn't understand it, but an eerie feeling crept over her. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary other than the scout fighter from earlier. As she walked closer to him Borlask held down a nervous shake of his hand.

"What's so important?" She smiled warmly.

Ancestors, that look of trust sent a wave of guilt through him.
Borlask looked over his shoulder nervously, watching for someone. He stared at her with an alarmed gaze.

Satima put her hand on his shoulder in concern, hoping close contact would help him ease up and tell her what was going on. "What's wrong, Borlask? You can tell me. We're family.", she spoke softly.

Not her usual impetuous tone and manner? Jormun scoffed at the word family but chose not to impede. He uneasily leaned off his chair, watching the pair.

Borlask shook his head, scoffing. "Family?" He couldn't live with it, this awful feeling. "Family doesn't hurt you. Family doesn't give up."

Jormun sat on the edge, his shotgun gripped tightly. He didn't like Borlask's tone of voice or edgy demeanor. Something was wrong here. Satima looked at him puzzled then glanced at Jormun quickly.

She backed away nervous and twitchy, reaching down her boot slowly for a small hand blade swallowing hard at the now silent and nearly vacated room.

Her gaze darted around the hall, "Borlask.", she started, now staring at him, "What's going on? What did you do?" An unbreakable fear in her voice as he pulled a pistol from his belt, wincing at her questions.

"I'm sorry, Satima. This place is the only thing standing between them." He pointed to the refugees, huddling in small crowds in the halls. "And death." His hand shook as he aimed unsteadily at the young girl he betrayed. "Besides if I know you as I do; you can escape it. I believe you can." Borlask felt horrible for what he'd done.

Shadows from the past lingered. Former allies and enemies resurfaced, their motives shrouded in uncertainty. A fateful encounter aligned with the Reapers, tested Borlask's newfound resolve.

The betrayal came swiftly and unexpectedly, plunging Borlask into a maelstrom of emotions. He felt the sting of treachery, the bitterness of trust shattered once more. Satima was caught in the crossfire, her life now hanging in the balance as he faced a choice that would define their future.

She was like a daughter to him. He couldn't deny what he felt about her. But they came. Tortured him, made him watch others be killed; a sacrifice, as the villain repeated. To restore order.

He was given no choice.

Satima heard loud footsteps behind them, her heart pounded against her chest. Jormun whispered to his captain over the comms, his voice breaking up in fear over the name of the one who stalked the girl's every move. It's been years. She was so careful. How did they find her?

An armored hand rested on her shoulder; its black metal surface had a polished sheen as it gripped her tightly. The mature tone of the female voice sent a wave of fear through the young smuggler as she leaned closer to the girl's ear. A snarled lip rose in the personal satisfaction of the find. "You will not make a fool of me again."

Jormun targeted his shotgun, jumpy from the confrontation. "Don't move! Back away from her now!", he roared in his accented tone.

Every nerve in Satima's body screamed for her to fight, yet the cold steel pressed against her skin forbade any sudden movements. She could feel the malice radiating from Reaper, manifesting as a palpable force that gripped her with icy fingers of trepidation. The struggle within her mind to stay composed was nearly overwhelming, but she knew giving in to fear would only seal her fate.

"Jormun," Satima's voice wavered, barely above a whisper, "Put the gun down. She's not bluffing."

Jormun's hands trembled as he maintained his grip on the shotgun. "Satima, I can't—"

"Do it!" The urgency in her eyes cut through his hesitation. Reluctantly, he lowered the weapon, placing it gently on the ground.

Reaper's laugh was soft but laced with cruelty. "Wise choice, girl." She loosened her grip slightly, allowing Satima to breathe a fraction easier but keeping the blade in place as a grim reminder of her control. A small trickle of blood danced down Satima's skin.

Several of the Directive's soldiers surrounded Jormun. The militants moved in a synchrony that spoke of intense training and an unyielding resolve. The air was tense, crackling with the silent anticipation of violence. Their menacing dark armor sent dangerous shadows across the floor.

Jormun's mind raced, trying to find a way out. His weariness weighed heavily on him, but the thought of Satima's safety kept him standing. He put Ish to his side, defeated. He wouldn't risk her getting hurt.

The hybrid threateningly stared at Borlask as she was let loose and cuffed. A surge of anger overwhelmed the fear from earlier, while she searched him for an answer. Why do this to her? She could've helped move the refugees somewhere safe; someplace where all of them, could be safe.

"You're a damn coward.", she glared at him. Her eyes were watery, but never let a single drop escape them.

Borlask's face remained stoic, a mask of indifference that only fueled her rage. "You don't understand," he began, his voice irritatingly calm, "this is bigger than you or me. Sacrifices have to be made for the greater good."

The hybrid clenched her fists, feeling the cool metal of the cuffs digging into her skin. "Sacrifices?" she spat. "By sacrificing those who trusted you? By betraying your own family?"

Borlask's eyes flickered with a momentary hint of regret, but it was quickly suppressed. "You can't see the broader picture. This war... it demands difficult choices."

She took a step closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Difficult choices," she echoed. "That's what you call betraying me? Selling me out to save your own hide?"

Borlask turned away, unable to meet her piercing gaze. "You would never understand the burden of leadership," he muttered. "I did what I had to do."

"I trusted you," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "We all did.

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. Borlask seemed lost in his thoughts, grappling with the weight of his actions. He sat down heavily and watched as Reaper dragged Satima out of his compound. Ancestors, he felt like scum leaving her alone to the Directive, but what could he do?

Finally, he spoke, but his words were devoid of the confidence they once held. "It was never supposed to be like this." His head bowed in shame. "It was for the good of the refugees, Satima. You've always known this."

As she was led away, her mind raced with thoughts of rebellion and justice. She silently vowed to herself that she would not rest until Borlask's treachery was exposed. The hybrid felt a new sense of purpose igniting within her, one filled with rage and deadly thoughts.

She'll break free and find Borlask, the architect of her betrayal, and make him pay for his transgressions; she'll force the end of her barrel inside his lying mouth. With a deadly grin, Satima disappeared from the facility. Jormun dragged along with her.

Chapter Text

HIVE
Location: Sol System - In Orbit Above the Wasteland of Earth

Looming ominously above a desolate, grey planet, the great station HIVE was constructed to serve the Directive's dark purpose. Forged from the twisted remnants of the once-mighty Reapers, who fell in the Harvest War, it stands as a monument to a grim past.

Its biocontainment defenses shroud sinister research stations, where eerie experiments are conducted to enhance, evolve, and create beings of unimaginable terror.

In the shadowy depths of its honeycombed hull decks, madness festers. The twisted levels, shrouded in perpetual darkness, warp reality itself. Those condemned to serve often find their minds unraveling, their senses betraying them as they stagger into walls or tumble into the abyss of lower rooms.

Insanity is a frequent visitor in this place of dread. Those who succumb to madness vanish into the lower cells, consigned to oblivion. They are never seen again, their fates sealed in the cold, unfeeling embrace of HIVE.

It was at this station that Satima found herself at home in total darkness that fed endless nightmares and constant fits of anxiety. Her jailer often locked the girl away. Satima's mind raced as she tried to piece together the fragments of her memory. She recalled the faces of her captors, the echoing screams of others trapped in the labyrinthine halls of HIVE. The organization had evolved, just as she had—its methods more insidious, its reach more extensive.

But as she got older, Satima was forced to undergo something different. At first, it was the tests; painful needles, and mutations. The training she had endured, though torturous, had forged her into a formidable adversary. She would not be broken again. Satima had learned to harness her fears, transforming them into a weapon.

Satima woke in a cell, sitting up from her cot, dizzy. More than likely due to a blow to her head. She gazed around the darkness of the room. Creeping to her feet, she tested the solidity of the cell's walls and door, searching for weaknesses, any sign of an escape route. Her senses were heightened every creak and groan of the structure amplified in the silence.

"Jormun, are you alive?" She whispered searching for him.

There was no one else in the blackness with her. Alone again at the hands of HIVE. It's been less than six years, but she is not the same scared and helpless little girl anymore.

Satima tried adjusting her vision in the dark thinking of a way to escape. A faint shuffling sound reached her ears, and she tensed, her heart pounding. Was it friend or foe? She pressed herself against the cold metal of the door, listening intently. The cell door opened, suddenly, with a blue glow piercing the darkness. Someone threw a body in.

She felt around the floor worried, finally finding a familiar suited arm. He lay on the ground unconscious.

"Jormun!", she held up his head and did a quick scan with her onmi-tool. His vitals were good. No puncture wounds and no infection. Satima sat his head in her lap, waiting for them to return. It was only a matter of time before Reaper would bring her back into the fold.

Resolved to not let that happen, Satima laid Jormun against the cot and stood at the side of the door, ready for anything.

An hour passed by as Jormun was coming to. He held his head in stunned pain. Satima watched him as he began to speak. "How long was I out?" He asked. She whispered, "An hour." Letting out a low chuckle, "Enjoy your nap?"

Jormun attempted to stand, leaning on the cot. "Some nap.", he replied in jest.

"We need to get out of here," she said, her mind already formulating a plan. "Do you remember the layout of this place?" It had been a long time since she frequented the many rooms and walkways of this terrible place.

"Vaguely," he admitted. "But we can't just burst out. They'll be expecting that."

Satima nodded, even though he could barely see her. Stealth had to be their ally. "We need a distraction. Something to draw their attention away from us."

Suddenly, the sound of heavy boots came towards the cell door. She snapped her head in the direction of the sound, cracking her knuckles in preparation for a fight.

The door opened again and Satima got caught under the next body they threw in. It was heavily armored and big. They both landed hard. Jormun, fully aware of his surroundings, ran to Satima; helping her up. She looked down to see the new prisoner.

The hulking figure groaned, the sound muffled by the heavy helmet covering his face. The armor was bulky and dented. Satima, though shaken, couldn't help but be curious about the identity of this new fellow captive. Jormun's eyes narrowed as he studied the figure before them.
"Careful," Jormun warned, his voice low and measured. "We don't know who he is or what he might do."

Satima dusted herself off. She knelt to the new cellmate. Her eyes adjusted enough that she could make out the outline of a turian.
Interesting; considering they all left for the terminus systems, all save a few.

This turian male started to grunt. He made the inclination to rise. Satima and Jormun backed away enough to blend in with the shadows. He stood, taller than her and Jormun, overbearingly scary in his darkened armor.
"I can see you." His voice was deep with a sub-vocal sound.

He shook his head from a similar knockout. Satima smirked to herself. She stepped out despite Jormun's behest. The turian walked around the room, checking the walls and the door.

"I thought your kind left this side of the old council systems years ago?" She stood in front of him.

"I'm here on a personal mission.", he said occupied with the door.

Satima shook her head, "In this place? The Hive is inescapable. You'd never make it out alive.", she stated proudly of her intelligence.

The turian stranger cocked his head at her, then went back to the door. After a few seconds of him typing on his omni-tool, it opened.
"You were saying?", he said mockingly.

Before Satima asked, she looked at the holo panel. A complex encryption code had been used. It seemed custom and probably took a long time to create. Inside job maybe?

"How did you do that?", Satima followed him, gesturing Jormun to come along.

"I had a long time to learn.", he said checking a hallway. Careful to watch his step, in case of alarms.

Satima was impressed by his genius ability of tech knowledge. Jormun felt inadequate. Quarians are naturally capable of all tech. He guessed he was the exception.

The turian quietly mumbled something, then looked at Satima and the quarian. He turned to face her and watched her fingers for a brief second before he stopped himself.

"Listen, kid, I don't need a tag-a-long, let alone two. Why don't you and your boyfriend escape down the other hall."

Satima's mouth dropped. She rubbed her left temple chuckling to herself in irritation.

"BOYFRIEND!? He is an EM. PLOY. EE!", she yelled. Jormun sulked back. The turian, agitated, started to walk off in the opposite direction.

Satima watched him abandon them in the dark hall. "Where the hell are you going?!", she shouted.

The turian stopped at two doors and a wall. He was hopelessly lost. Satima stood with her arms crossed, "I suppose you already have directions? Maybe your "personal mission" brought you here to find someone?"

The turian continued to search for a hacking panel on the wall. "Yeah, something like that."

Satima couldn't think of anyone more important and most wanted dead than the villain herself onboard this station of nightmares. But he wanted to find someone, not kill them. "Maybe I would know who this individual is.", she hinted.

He turned slowly, his helmeted head staring in her direction with curiosity.
Satima continued. "Considering I used to be a former resident here, I might be able to help you." She smiled. "For a favor."

The turian's once sure gaze turned to annoyance. He paced like a trained soldier in front of them. His gait dragged a little, not enough to slow him down.

Satima stood to the side, observing. "What are you a general or something?", she asked rudely.

He stopped, noticing his brood-like pacing. "I was never a general, but I was an officer once.", he said reflecting.

Satima eyed Jormun and shook her head, "You're wearing merc armor.", she pointed out.

"So, I am.", he mused.

Satima sighed loudly.

The turian walked a little closer to her. A hint of desperation was subtle in his tone. "I'll take your offer."

Satima blinked her eyes in confusion. "Really?"

The turian merc never took off his helmet. She doesn't like not being able to read expressions. He stood against the wall crossing his arms, overhead dimmers reflecting off his stone blue armor.

"Plans change. So, I need your help. Understood?", he said in a rougher tone.

Satima glanced at Jormun, who shook his head no. He tried to stop her from approaching the turian merc.

"So, you'll agree for a favor?", she raised a brow while folding her arms.

Jormun stepped up, "No, Satima. We need to get out of here now! Find Do'ova and Haven!"

She waved him off. It's not like Satima to treat him as a subordinate. An em. ploy. ee.

The turian smirked, "I could give you some credits." A typical yet practical way of getting help. He waited for a quick response.

She looked at Jormun. He nodded no, again. His hesitance was becoming annoying, but he's right about the creds. "That's not what I had in mind.", she replied. "Wait... what exactly are you doing here?", she questioned him intensely.

The turian laughed out loud in a mocking tone. "I'm a merc. Is that not obvious enough for you?"

Satima stared at him, irritated until she realized what this could mean. "If you were trying to rescue someone from this station, you wouldn't be alone. You got caught because you're here to kill someone? Aren't you?", she asked.

He stepped away from the wall, getting closer. "Clever." The merc leaned to her, his voice low. "I'm here to put Reaper out of her misery. Have a problem with it?", he asked threateningly.

Satima shook her head with a small laugh, "No. That sounds like a good plan."

The turian processed the disturbing smile she gave at the thought. "Then we help each other kill Reaper and leave here together. Deal?" He held his three-fingered taloned hand out to shake with hers. "Deal.", she agreed.

Jormun wanted to shake sense into Satima. Her grudge against the past is going to get them both killed. He sighed, following behind the doomed team.

The underbelly of the HIVE station was a place most feared to tread, even among those who called the sprawling station their home. It was here that Satima, with her quiet determination, led the weaponless group through the winding antechambers of Reaper. The station was aptly named; it was filled with the presence of directive soldiers, lurking shadows, and disquieting, echoing whispers that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once.

Jormun could barely keep the fear from his eyes as he glanced at the oppressive darkness that surrounded them. The corridors, shrouded in gloom, were lit sporadically by dim blue illuminators, casting a ghostly glow that barely penetrated the shadows.

Every few feet, they passed alcoves that seemed to lead to nowhere, each one a potential hiding spot for unseen threats. These dark recesses played tricks on Jormun's mind, each shadow a lurking danger, each whisper a sign of impending doom. His heart pounded in his chest, and though he tried to stay close to the group, his eyes darted nervously, expecting danger to leap out at any moment.

The air was thick with tension, and each step echoed loudly in the silence, a constant reminder of their vulnerability. Satima, however, remained unfazed. She had been here before, had faced the dangers that lurked in these halls, and had emerged alive. She knew the way, knew how to navigate the treacherous paths that wound through the station's underbelly. At least she hoped she remembered.

The corridors twisted and turned, a maze of confusion and despair. The dim illuminators flickered, casting eerie shapes on the walls. The group moved silently, their footsteps a hushed symphony in the darkness.

After what felt like an eternity, they reached a large, reinforced door. Though most stations have the basic tech in their doors, this one was tricky. It had two panels to work from. It could be hours before they hack it.

"Hey, Mr. Merc! You think you can apply those same skills to this panel, while I hack the other?", Satima asked.

"You think you can keep up with me?", he smirked taking the other.

Jormin stood to watch, his eyes narrowing with barely concealed contempt. The turian mercenary, with his arrogant smirk, rubbed salt into a wound Jormin had long tried to ignore. The itch to drive a fist into that smug face grew with each passing second. He clenched his fists but restrained himself, knowing the stakes were too high to lose control.

Satima, quick and determined, raced against the turian to unlock the encrypted code. Her fingers flew over the interface, a blur of motion and precision. She had a point to prove—that her reflexes and skills surpassed those of the turian, that she was not just fast, but brilliant. Yet, as the turian effortlessly encrypted a virus, within a minute of hacking the lock, Satima's frustration boiled over.

"Looks like I win.", he clicked his mandibles under his helmet, satisfied.

With a growl, she slammed her fists onto the panel, her fury turning into raw force as she hammered at the device. Sparks flew, the screen shattered, and the code—once a sophisticated barrier—was reduced to a disabled mass of circuitry. The brute display of strength was a stark contrast to the turian’s cold, calculated skill.

The door opened. Jormun gasped. The Reaper stood on the other side along with soldiers, holding a displeased gaze.
"Predictable," she spoke unamusedly.

Jormun felt his heart pounding, each beat echoing the dread that filled his veins. His eyes darted to the soldiers flanking the Reaper, their faces hidden beneath dark helmets. The air in the room grew heavy, suffused with unspoken tension.

The Reaper stepped forward, her presence commanded silence, and even the soldiers seemed to hold their breath. She was an imposing figure, shrouded in mystery and fear. "You thought you could escape," she continued her voice cold and cutting. "You thought you could outsmart me." Her gaze now fixed on Satima.

The young captain gulped hard unable to avert her stare.

"Take them," Reaper commanded, her voice like ice.

They were taken and dragged to the cells below the large deck which consisted of many closed doors, followed by feeble sounds of fear.

Satima cringed to hear the HIVE victims. She turned her gaze to the blows a soldier inflicted brutally on the turian merc. In between the grunts and loud groans of pain, he managed to laugh at the attempts.

"You hit like a salarian!", he spat. Another blow was delivered to his helmeted face knocking his head back harshly. "Is that all you can do?", he shouted in taunts, panting and gasping in torment.

Satima wanted him to shut the hell up. Her patience was wearing thin as she looked over to Jormun, who had two soldiers surrounding him, their weapons pointed towards his head. Reaper stood and watched, an enigmatic smile playing on her lips. It made Satima anxious. What is this psychopath up to?

Reaper’s presence was suffocating. Her reputation for cruelty preceded her, and the gleam in her eyes suggested she was relishing every moment of their predicament.

The turian merc spat blue blood in his helmet's visor with a snarl, "Too afraid to do this yourself?", his low tone menacing.

Reaper unfolded her arms, stalking around them as she spoke. "I can do what is necessary. If I must." She always had a soulless stare. Patches of steel-toned cybernetics seemed to glow as ominous tendrils, on the sides of her face, right up to those bright green eyes.

Reaper knocked him backward with a hard blow to the side. Satima was sure that broke a few ribs. He wheezed, never backing down from his damn talking.

"You think you're tough, Reaper?" The turian sneered, his voice strained but defiant. "You think that scares me?" He grimaced in pain but managed to push himself to his feet, clutching his side where Reaper had struck.

Reaper's mechanical eyes narrowed as she studied him, her lips curling into a derisive smile. "Tough? Scare you?" She let out a cold, hollow laugh. "You haven't seen anything yet."

The air was thick with tension, a palpable energy crackling between them. The turian could feel every throb of pain from his injured ribs, but he refused to let it show. He straightened his back and met Reaper's gaze head-on, his own eyes burning with a mix of fury and determination.

"You can't intimidate me," he said, his voice steady despite the pain. "I've faced worse than you."

Reaper tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable. "Brave words," she replied, her voice a low, dangerous purr. "But actions speak louder." She took a step closer, her cybernetic enhancements gleaming under the harsh lights. "Let's see if you can back them up."

The turian braced himself, his muscles tensing in anticipation of the next attack. He knew he was at a disadvantage—Reaper's cybernetics gave her enhanced strength and speed—but he refused to go down without a fight. He had faced countless adversaries in his time, and he wasn't about to let this one be the end of him.

Reaper stared at the merc lost in thought. Her blood-red hair turned a vibrant purple under the small blue light over them. The armor flexed with the vibration of a million dark beetles endlessly in motion.
HIVE's precious Nanotech was generously applied to every soldier and minion the Directive could create.

There was a set like that for Satima once. She could still feel the tiny pricks under her skin as her mind and the suit became one. Reaper hit the merc again. Time was running out.

"I suppose, Satima, you hired him to help you kill me?", The Reaper's gaze bore into her, unrelenting. "Tell me, what did you hope to achieve?"

Satima let out a sarcastic smirk, "We just met. Seems like too much of an idiot. But I guess he got far enough on his own before you showed up.", she replied, worried.

The turian glanced at her. He smirked; she could play with words all day. Reaper won't let it last long.

Satima needed a few more seconds. Her cuffs were almost off. She used the time the turian merc wasted to hack them. She and Jormun would escape; too bad for the merc.

Reaper looked at Satima. "Do you know who he is?", she asked with an emotionless stare.

Satima scoffed, "I already told you, we just met."

Reaper smiled a grin so wicked it sent chills down Jormun's spine. She turned to Satima as she spoke. "He was a detective, once. Burnt out cop, trying to make the galaxy a better place."

Reaper tried to mockingly caress the side of his armored carapace. The turian jerked back, clearly disturbed. "He was too damn cocky, hot-headed.", she stared at Satima, then turned back to him with a scornful gaze. "And too much trouble." There was almost a lament in her words.
Reaper retrieved a gun from her side. Its tan appearance reflects amber in color. Satima didn't want to see this.

She had hoped Reaper would see the turian as too worthless and useless to kill. But they had a history apparently, and Reaper was about to end his. Permanently.

"Weak bitch.", he threatened. His sub-vocals echoed a warning towards the villainess.

There was something in his voice that seemed to fill Reaper with rage, prompting her to hurt him. Reaper lunged at him again, the turian sidestepped, using her momentum against her. He landed a swift kick to her side, but it felt like striking solid steel. She barely flinched, her soulless gaze locked onto him with predatory focus.

The turian dodged a blow, managing to catch Reaper's swift kick in mid-air.

Satima gasped in surprise. That bastard already hacked his cuffs! He was just playing Reaper all along!

The merc groaned from his injuries, as he twisted Reaper's leg, making her fall to the floor. Satima finished with the cuffs and stood turning to the two soldiers. One charged until she grabbed his shotgun yanking him to her violently.

Satima head-butted him with a grunt, kicking his groin. She turned the dazed soldier around facing Jormun. In an instant of brutality, she snapped his neck. Reflecting the deadly combat skills Reaper had trained her in, years before.

The other stepped back surprised. Satima looked at the shotgun.
"Jormun, I found Ish.", she smiled and threw the weapon to the quarian who happily killed the directive soldier.

She heard the shuffling of feet behind her. They were still fighting. Reaper left-hooked the turian, but he took it well and knocked her down again. That's when the alarms came on.

"Sentries!", Jormun yelled.

No way Satima can take those things.

She stared in terror, grabbing Jormun by the arm. "We're leaving!", as they started to flee down the hall.

They passed by the turian who took satisfaction in his anger towards Reaper, holding his rifle, aiming for her head. Grunting from the pain of the assault, he stood over her.

She gave him an unwavering stare. "Finish it.", she spoke, panting from the fight they had before. The turian had no visible gaze, but his hesitance spoke clearly. He questioned his resolve while the hall became filled with enemies.

Her eyes bore into his, demanding action, demanding an end to the struggle that had consumed them. The turian's hand tightened around the hilt of his weapon. He could hear the distant sounds of their enemies, the rhythmic march of boots, and the low murmur of voices growing ever closer. Yet, it was not the external threat that gave him pause, but the internal turmoil that raged within him.

He had always been taught that honor and duty were paramount, that to hesitate was to fail. But standing before her, with her fierce determination and unwavering conviction, he felt the weight of his choices like never before.

The hallway seemed to shrink, the walls closing in as the enemy drew nearer. He knew what he had to do. His hesitance ran the clock out. The enemies emerged from the shadows, a tide of hostility and danger.

A sentry approached quickly. Its grey-covered body armor glowed with an orange sheen. That type of new shielding is almost impenetrable. A large helmet covered the face with four slits, that had a yellow glow from them.

Satima had always imagined a grotesque being under there. True to its name, it stood eight feet tall; an armored monster. Satima looked back at the turian merc. He seemed to be unable to pull the trigger.

The sentry held a heavy rifle, loaded with iridium slugs, and started firing at the merc who dodged the attack barely, roaring his frustration at being hindered from the kill.

"Come on! We don't have time!", Jormun shouted, to her as she watched.
Satima made an aggravated tone. Why does she care? She yelled at the turian merc, "You can kill her another day!"

The turian stood, confused at her words. He turned around to face Satima. The sentry got closer. He looked down to Reaper who had already crawled back to regroup.

Soldiers were piling out from alcoves behind them. She leaned on one, clutching her side. The turian merc glanced away back to Satima.
"I'm coming.", he said defeated.

They ran to the docking bay dodging bullets and plasma turrets. A fighter hovered in the hanger. Satima sprinted across the floor, knocking her body onto the hull, as the turian merc effortlessly put a bullet through a soldier's head.

Jormun suppressed fire while she ripped a panel off the fighter's hatch. The turian merc noticed her unusual strength and the ferocity of her combat skills.

Satima reprogrammed the vessel, it had just enough room for them all. Jormun hopped in with his captain in tow. The merc climbed in last and stood behind Satima, watching her apply tech skills to the fighters' control panels.

As the engines roared to life, the docking bay doors began to close. Satima's fingers danced across the console, overriding the security protocols to keep the exit open.

"You know how to fly these things?", the merc spoke condescendingly to her.

"If I don't, then we're all dead!", she yelled, dismissing his tone. "Hold on tight!" she shouted over the noise of the engines, her voice barely audible.

The fighter lurched forward, escaping the hangar just as the doors slammed shut behind them. Plasma fire trailed their path, but Satima's quick maneuvering kept them out of harm's way. She continued to work on the controls, enhancing the ship's speed and shields.

Using one of Jupiter's many moons as cover, Satima evaded the wave.
The fighter hovered in silence. All major systems shut down, except for basic life support. Satima had used her secret code via omni-tool, and the vessel's long-range output to call Do'ova. If the nervous salarian was still alive, and still aboard, she'll come to them. At least that's what they all practiced.

Two hours passed, with the uncomfortable silence settling among them. That was too close. Reaper almost had her. It's been a few years since she's been back to the station. Looking at the turian, she remembered the fight in the cell hall.

Their subtle hints of a past lingered between them. This is becoming complicated; she needs to get rid of him. Drop that merc off somewhere. A view from the cockpit window showed fighter scouts, pushing her current thoughts aside.

They passed by without a hint of detection. Good.
Jormun started to shiver, and so did Satima. The ship's main power will die out in constant use without a docking station. She checked the power panel. Fifteen percent remained.

"Do'ova should have responded by now," Jormun muttered, his eyes scanning the desolate moonscape outside the viewport. The swirling hues of Jupiter's atmosphere loomed in the distance, a constant reminder of the dangers they faced. He couldn't shake the feeling that something had gone wrong.

The chill of the cabin inside the Fighter's cockpit started to affect the team. Jormun's voice began to chatter. " If... if... Do'ova doesn't come soon.... we'll be..fro-frozen solid."

She nodded, putting a comforting hand on his suited shoulder. Satima couldn't help but stare away at the turian merc. He sat in the furthest corner of the small cockpit, meddling with his omni-tool. The turian nodded, his mandibles twitching slightly under his helmet. "She'll come."

Patience was not Satima's strong suit, especially when lives were on the line. Every minute felt like an eternity, and the weight of their situation pressed heavily on her shoulders. She couldn't help but replay the moments leading up to their escape, analyzing every decision she had made.

Moments passed until suddenly, the vessel's comm system crackled to life. "Satima, it's Do'ova. I'm in position. Can you hear me?"
It was Do'ova!

"D!", Satima sat up, pacing in a tight circle. "Yes, we can hear you." A wave of relief washed over her. "We're here, just outside the moon's shadow. Can you get to us without drawing attention?"

"Affirmative," Do'ova replied. "Sending coordinates for rendezvous. Stand by."

She took them to Haven. As the fighter navigated to the ship, Jormun stayed down on the floor of the shuttle annoyed at the recent events. His entire suit was filled with sweat, now clinging in icy cold to his flesh. He'll need to run scrubbers and program a cleaning.

Too bad he couldn't strip out of it and enjoy a moment unhindered from his only safe environment. Satima relaxed in the pilot seat, careful of the new passenger.

The cargo bay opened with the fighter boarding her ship. Jormun darted out to warm up Haven's engines, following the routine of escape that Satima had drilled him on. Do'ova greeted him, suddenly turning her attention to the fighter. "Wow!", she said, amused. "This is fascinating. May I?

Satima made her way to the cockpit, nodding to her crew. "Be careful with it, D."

The turian merc chuckled, shaking his head in amusement as he followed Satima through the narrow corridor. The flickering lights above cast eerie shadows on the walls, adding to the sense of disrepair that permeated the ship. Despite its appearance, Satima seemed to navigate the vessel with confidence, her steps sure and purposeful.

"So, what's the story with this old bird?" the merc asked, glancing around at the rusted panels and exposed wiring. "Looks like it's seen better days."

Satima turned to face him while walking backward, "If you don't like it, then I suggest you learn how to hold your breath." She pointed to an airlock. "The fighter is mine.", she warned. "Besides," she added, gesturing to the ship around them, " this is your temporary ride for now. So, you might want to get used to it."

The young captain entered the cockpit and unceremoniously sat down in her chair. While bringing the systems holo-panel up, diagnostics danced across the board.

The turian merc sat next to her and played around on a similar panel, then Haven vibrated and thrummed loudly.

"What did you do?", she demanded angrily.

"I gave you a better chance to get us the hell out of here!", he gestured to the window as dozens of fighters appeared locking in on their location.
Satima punched the thrusters on, noting her frustrations with this guy. They left quickly through the relay.

Chapter Text

The ship, Haven, had been painted silvery pewter with an emerald sheen. Unfortunately, over time, the vessel's past had shown in its scarred and worn appearance, a testament to the many voyages and battles it had endured.

The inside of the hull walls was a smoky grey, creating a somber and utilitarian atmosphere. Engineering was home to an economy ion engine with an older model of drive core, both protected by a kinetic field. Despite its age, the engine remained functional, though it struggled to maintain the ship's former glory.

Two decks gave the Haven its bulk. A small cargo bay, roomy enough to hold a fighter, served as a versatile space for both people and shuttles. In the corners, leather nets secured crates and metal boxes filled with necessities, adding to the ship's rugged charm.

Dingy yellow lights illuminated the decks, holds, and quarters, casting a dim glow that barely penetrated the shadows. The crew shared a single, larger re-purposed bathroom, a testament to the ship's modest accommodations. The mess room, suitable for dining and little else, provided a communal space for the crew to gather and share meals.
Old and barely holding together, the Haven had a subpar FTL speed. Despite Jormun's exhaustive maintenance skills, the ship's capabilities were limited. Do'ova's offerings of tech and electrical components helped keep the Haven operational, but it was clear that the ship's best days were behind it.

Satima, the ship's owner and the only pilot capable of flying her, held a deep connection to the Haven. Recognizing the ship's vulnerabilities, Borlask had installed special codes and permissions to protect Satima from ship pirates and ensure that the Haven remained under her command.

The Haven, with its scarred exterior and worn interior, told a story of resilience and survival. Despite its many flaws, the ship remained a place of security, where they could find refuge and continue their journey through the stars.

The stars glittered coldly outside the viewport as the mercenary set a course for a nearby sub-station. The hum of the ship's engines provided a steady backdrop to his thoughts, a constant reminder of the vastness of space and the unpredictability of his path. He glanced at the coordinates once more, ensuring they were correct before activating them.

His journey to this moment had been fraught with danger and deception. As a seasoned mercenary, he was no stranger to the perils of his trade. His reputation for skill and discretion had earned him numerous contracts, but it was this particular mission that had brought him to the brink of an unexpected alliance.

The sub-station loomed ahead, a beacon in the darkness, and he felt a surge of anticipation. This was not an ordinary stop; the terms had been set long before he boarded the ship. Instead of being air-locked, an outcome that many in his line of work might face, he was to be dropped off at the sub-station. It was an easy decision.

The fighter's promise of payment was a lifeline, a crucial factor that influenced his decision to accept his fate. The merc was confident in his skills being a highly used commodity for room and board until he found another way off the station.

As the ship drew closer, the mercenary prepared to disembark. The docking procedure was swift and efficient. The crew, aware of the arrangement, facilitated a smooth transfer. The mercenary stepped into the corridor, the metallic clang of his boots echoing in the confined space. He carried with him not only his physical gear but also the weight of countless battles and the scars, both visible and hidden, that marked his journey.

The sub-station was a hive of activity, with personnel bustling about, immersed in their duties. He navigated the corridors with practiced ease, his presence acknowledged by a few nods from those who recognized him. It was an environment that thrived on order and routine, a stark contrast to the chaos that often defined his life.

The turian merc made his way to a bar, seating himself with a groan, still wincing from the sore injuries he sustained from Reaper hours before.

Ordering a beer and sipping away his pain, he turned his seat to scan the area. Pretty soon the crew of the Haven will stumble in and celebrate a rare escape. He can't get the young captain out of his mind. There was something about her he couldn't figure out.

Something mysterious, dangerous, and misleading. As he waited, he couldn't help but reflect on the choices that had led him here. The life of a mercenary was one of constant motion, driven by contracts and the ever-present need for survival. Each mission brought its own set of challenges, and each alliance was a gamble. Yet, it was also a life that afforded him a sense of freedom and autonomy, a chance to carve his path in a universe that often seemed indifferent to individual fates.

Distracted, he resumed drinking his beer, sulking on the seat, feeling age catch up. He doesn't know how long he has until his body wears out, but he is determined to rendezvous with Reaper, one more time, and end it for them both.
.........................................................................................................................

At the station Satima took a deep breath, letting the faint scent of liquor and sweat fill her senses. She was determined to make the most of their temporary reprieve from the chaos of their lives. Still, the gnawing worry about Do'ova's family at Omega tugged at her mind, a constant, unrelenting presence.

As Jormun took a sip of his Azure Sunrise, the neon blue liquid illuminated his smile. He leaned closer to Satima, whispering something that made her laugh—a rare sound of genuine mirth that seemed almost foreign in the dim, pulsating light of the bar.

Do'ova looked at her companions with a mixture of envy and longing. She didn't begrudge them their happiness, but she couldn't shake the feeling of isolation. Her thoughts drifted to the distant, shadowy alleys of Omega, where survival was a daily struggle. How was her family faring? Were they even still alive?

The bartender, a tall and lanky Turian, approached their table with practiced ease, placing Satima's drink in front of her. She offered a nod of thanks, her mind momentarily distracted by the vibrant dance floor. People moved with abandon, their bodies swaying to the relentless beat of the techno music. It was a stark contrast to the tension that clung to her like a second skin.

"Hey," Jormun's voice broke through her reverie. "Everything okay?"

She forced a smile, not wanting to burden him with her worries. "Did you enjoy our little adventure?", she asked smirking.

Jormun slurped his drink through a straw into an opening of his suited helmet, gulping the liquid down fast. "I didn't like almost being killed by a sentry, but yeah... it was a little exciting.", he reached out to touch her arm.

"Not now, Jormun.", she pushed his hand away.

"Oh, that's right. I'm just an em-ploy-ee.", he said hurt.

Satima glanced his way with a sarcastic glare. Jormun continued sucking the liquid through his straw. She leaned in close, trying to pinpoint correct eye contact through his helmet. His lavender-glowing eyes stared at her, as he nervously readjusted his seat.

Satima gently brushed his arm with a sultry smile. Jormun nearly dropped his glass from the sudden touch. He always got so nervous when she did that, feeling awkward about his obstacles-the damn suit.

Satima realized how nervous he became and stopped teasing him.
"I'm sorry, Jormun about earlier and I'm glad you're the voice of caution on our little adventures together.", she touched his shoulder with a smile.
Jormun stared at her. Ancestors, she's beautiful to him.

Do'ova leaned out behind Jormun, raising her slender arm with a drink in hand. "Uh… I didn't particularly enjoy being left behind on Lorek. But I did manage to escape the hideout." Her nervous laugh and twitch made Satima feel a little awful for all of it.

The captain reached around Jormun, grasping Do'ova's free hand. "D. Thank you for not abandoning us. We wouldn't have made it out alive from that system, without you.", she smiled.

Do'ova blushed what a salarian can blush and sipped sheepishly. "Oh.. I didn't… I mean, it was nothing…had to…well?" Her embarrassed blathering continued as Satima shook her head with a grin.

Satima nodded and raised her glass in a toast. "To surviving another day."

Jormun and Do'ova followed suit, their glasses clinking together in a brief moment of camaraderie. They drank deeply, savoring the burn of the alcohol and the fleeting sense of normalcy it brought.

"I'm going to sleep for a few days. After I finish my drink of course.", she laughed loudly with Jormun. Unaware of a watchful gaze settling on them from across the dance floor.

HIVE

Reaper stood in front of a mirror, alone in the dimmed quarters she held. Trailing the cybernetics that slowly covered her face, feeling the difference of pulse and flow. Thoughts crept in from a memory so long ago. She was beautiful, once. Smooth skin that felt cool and soft. No more.

What is she now? Their tool, or one of them, herself? The reflection staring back at her offered no answers, only the cold, unyielding truth of her transformation. The once bright eyes now glowed with a mechanical intensity, devoid of the warmth they once held.

In a galaxy where technology had fused seamlessly with human flesh, Reaper had become a living testament to the relentless march of progress. Her body, now more synthesis than flesh, was a marvel of reaper engineering and a symbol of the sacrifices made in the name of survival. Yet, amidst visible cybernetics, her humanity lingered, a whisper in the cacophony of her altered existence.

As she traced the lines of cybernetics, memories of a different life flooded her mind. She remembered the laughter of friends, the touch of a lover's hand, the simple pleasure of feeling the sun on her face. Each memory was a bittersweet reminder of what she had lost and what she had gained.

Reaper's transformation had not been a choice, but a necessity. "I order.", she said aloud. "I must restore order.", she repeated. The question of identity gnawed at her. Was she still the woman she once was, or had the augmentation stripped her of her essence, leaving behind only a shadow of her former self? The lines blurred between who she had been and what she had become, a constant battle between the organic and the synthetic.

But there was something nagging at the back of her mind. One lonely voice among thousands. The face that looked back was in pain. Reaper scowled, anger welling in her features, raising a clenched fist to the mirror and delivering a blow to the surface.

As the shards scattered, each one seemed to capture a different fragment of her past. Images of battles fought, lovers lost, and dreams shattered mirrored back at her. She stepped back, feeling the sharp sting of a tear she hadn't allowed herself to shed in years.

The room was silent, save for the soft echoes of broken glass. Reaper's thoughts raced. She was supposed to be invincible, a force of nature that nothing could break. Yet here she was, standing amidst the remnants of her reflection, feeling more vulnerable than ever.

Her breath hitched as she knelt down to pick up a piece of glass. It gleamed with a strange light, almost as if it was beckoning her to look closer. She saw herself, not just the warrior she had become, but the woman she once was. The laughter, the joy, the hope that once filled her heart—all now seemed so distant.

Reaper clenched her fist around the shard, feeling the bite of the glass against her skin. The pain was a reminder that she was still alive, still fighting. But for what? She had lost sight of her purpose, lost in the endless cycle of vengeance and violence.

She stood up, letting the glass fall from her hand. Blood trickled down her palm, and she welcomed the sensation. It was real, unlike the ghosts of her past that haunted her every step. Reaper knew she couldn't keep running from herself. She needed to confront the darkness within, to find the strength to piece herself together once more.

The Turian will pay in his blood for keeping her from the objective. He beat her down too easily. Still, there was something in his voice that shamed her. It wasn't the mocking tone she had expected, but rather a deep, resonant disappointment that cut through her resolve like a blade.

With a deep breath, she turned away from the broken mirror. The journey ahead was uncertain, but for the first time in a long while, Reaper felt a glimmer of hope. She would reclaim her identity, not as a shattered reflection, but as a whole, formidable force.

And so, with resolve burning in her eyes, Reaper stepped forward into the unknown, ready to face the hybrid girl she once held captive, and atone.
..............................................................................................................................
Titan Nebula: Outer Zone

He woke with a cold sweat. The stations' air systems never worked well. It had been two days and that shitty ship Haven was still docked. There was something familiar with the structure of the ship. And that strange girl with her odd features, good with tech and keeping that ship afloat.
Doesn't matter.

The merc felt more like shit since earlier from the beating he received and managed to survive from. He had to be more careful. The game was getting risky, and he wasn't as young as he used to be.

Getting old had its disadvantages. It wasn't going to stop him from killing Reaper, though.

The merc looked at a datapad from a week ago, it contained the last conversation between himself and a representative of the Directive. Some anonymous lackey, finding their resolve amid all the horror and torture they helped create. Most likely terrified of whether or not they would be next.

"We've given you her location for the last time. Kill Reaper, free us from the servitude of HIVE."

Simple. Yet he couldn't shake that feeling. He's betraying everything he once stood for, but she was a brighter galaxy long ago. He put his armor on and went to the bar. The quarian named Jormun sat at a table eating his nutrient paste.

Still lost in his thoughts, the turian reflected on the past decade. Spirits, why would she slaughter thousands of people? Burning colonies and harvesting refugees for The Directive? He knew that experiments were being held on some of those worlds. What happened to her? She's a monster and he's going to put her down.

What really got him anxious was the fact that Satima had never left. Why is she staying? She's a smart girl, isn't she? The Directive could be close, honing in on her location faster than she thinks.

She appeared at the corner of the bar going to Jormun with naïvety, unaware of how dangerous her obvious predicament truly is. The quarian boy tried to hand her a nutrient pack, but she seemed preoccupied with something that made her shout at him in displeasure.

After a few minutes had passed, the station shut down, and red emergency lighting illuminated the floors. The merc rose from his position in caution, the atmosphere thick with dread.

...........................................................................
Moments before...

"I'm going to kill that batarian bastard!", Satima had eyed the bar, looking for a hard drink. Gulping old liquor from a used cup as she winced at the sour taste.

Jormun nearly choked on his food. "Satima, you can't go back to Lorek! It's probably crawling with the directive and besides, Reaper never leaves a compromised agent alive."

Satima shot him a glare, knowing the truth in his words. Their run-ins with more than a few agents of HIVE prove his point.

In truth, she mourned him. Borlask had been the only family she had, but now he's an agent of the directive; a lackey to Reaper and traitor to the galaxy.

Borlask had been her protector, her confidant, and the stalwart guardian of her secrets. To be betrayed by family, to see him align himself with the very enemy they had fought against, was a wound that went deeper than any physical pain.

Her thoughts wandered over to the merc that escaped HIVE with them. She knew the smug turian was watching them when she hacked the cameras on the station last night, that he sleeps with his weapon at the ready. It wasn't just caution; it was a sign of deep-seated paranoia, an unspoken indication of the secrets he carried.

In the middle of her thoughts, a sudden rumble in the station snapped her to attention. The bar lights dimmed as red tones illuminated the area. Most of the doors closed automatically.

"What's going on?", Jormun sounded panicked, pulling out Ish.
Satima had a bad feeling and looked out a porthole as two fighters drifted into the dock.

"Shit! We need to go!", she pulled him up. Code knocking to Do'ova with her omni-tool. A red crossed-out circle played instead. Frequency jammers.

Jormun and Satima tried two doors, but her hacking codes couldn't break through. They attempted to escape through the emergency hatches. All of them were locked down tight.

At that moment of panic, the main door hissed to life and five HIVE soldiers came in, followed by Archer; an elite droid scientist and second in command to Reaper under the Directive.

He resembled a human male with visible cybernetic parts covering his once-organic flesh. His eyes were a cybernetic blue, pewter-toned muscles flexed under the nano armor he wore. Archer moved forward like a predator to Satima and Jormun.

She swallowed hard; this wasn't good. Satima would rather deal with Reaper.

The young captain glanced at Jormun. They both knew that resistance was futile against Archer and his soldiers, but surrendering wasn't an option either. Jormun tightened his grip on Ish, ready for a standoff.

"Captain of Haven", the droid gave a cruel grin towards them.

She backed away slowly into Jormun as he protectively put her behind him. His sudden change to brave crewmate made her blush. The turian merc hid in the shadows.

Archer paced around them, sending a cold shudder down Satima's plated spine. He tilted his head in curious observation of her, then a quick glance to Jormun.

"You are a hard person to find but found I have. Please, have a seat.", he gestured with a hand over some chairs.

Archer sat, as two of the men grabbed her, forcing her to sit opposite him. It felt like an interrogation. He leaned forward.

"Turn off the shutdown!", he yelled annoyed in his droid voice. It held a subtle accent.

The emergency shutdown was turned off and all doors were unlocked. Satima as well as Jormun knew, there was no escape.

Jormun stood at a distance surrounded by soldiers. He held a deadly glare at Archer, though no one could tell because of his helmet.

"What do you want?", Satima asked, gulping hard.

Archer gave her an unpleasant gaze. She leaned back in the chair from fear of his unknown intentions.

"I need a sample.", he stated.

He snapped a finger and the same two men held her down as a salarian came running over with a needle instrument. She panicked. Satima struggled against their hold as they took blood from her. The salarian scurried back out the door with the sample.

"What the hell was that for?", she yelled angrily.

"We need to check how your mutation is going. The Directive is interested in your progress.", he cocked his head strangely. "Your survival has been a fascinating subject, Satima."

She could feel Jormun's tension from across the room. His body was coiled, ready to strike at any moment if things took a turn for the worse. Satima's mind raced, trying desperately to anticipate Archer's next move.

"My survival?", Satima asked.

Archer's smile didn't waver, sending chills down her spine. "Yes, your survival," he repeated, his voice a dangerous blend of curiosity and menace. "The Directive believes you hold the key to something... extraordinary."

Archer stood up with a smile, pacing around her. He motioned the guards to let her go. Satima sat up quickly, keeping the chair between herself and him. Jormun's heart raced.

Satima's eyes narrowed, her breath quickening. "What kind of key?"

Archer chuckled, the sound echoing menacingly in the confined space. "The kind that can change the course of our future. Your mutation, as you call it, is unique. It has the potential to unlock abilities we can only dream of."

Jormun took a threatening step forward, his hand moving instinctively toward his weapon. "If you think we're going to let you experiment on her, you're mistaken," he growled, his voice like ice. Remembering some of the awful stories she told him before.

Archer barely acknowledged the boy, his focus remaining on Satima. "Oh, I don't need your permission. The Directive has already authorized everything. We're merely ensuring the process goes smoothly."

Satima's heart pounded in her chest. "And if I refuse?" she challenged, grasping for any leverage, checking the room for a weapon.

Archer's smile turned into a sinister smirk. "You won't. Because deep down, you want to know too. You want to understand the potential within you."

She continued backing slowly with the bar counter behind her, his words echoing loudly in her mind. Was she curious enough to push aside her fears and return to HIVE?

"Then where is Reaper? Why isn't she in charge of this?", Satima settled her right arm on the counter and hastily rummaged behind for weapons. Most bartenders had them concealed away for emergencies. Satima found a pistol, carefully gripping it in preparation to fire.

Archer observed, choosing to ignore it. He looked away to reply. "Reaper has…", he gave a smirk in thought. "Tendered her resignation." Archer paused, taking in Satima's surprised stare. He continued. "Her services are no longer needed."

Satima let out a small gasp. Was he lying? Did that mean her adversary was eliminated? Thoughts raced about as she desperately tried to understand his meaning.

She knew answers were not going to come easily, and as another ship came into view of the station, Satima realized they were running out of time.

She brought out the pistol quickly, firing on the crowd, pushing her way back for cover. Archer was too fast for her. He dodged every shot, sprinting towards Jormun. He knocked the quarian over to use him as a shield. Satima shouted in anger.

Archer laughed cruelly, watching her pace, gun in hand. He forced her to make a choice. With a grin, he held his weapon against the quarian's head. "You'll have to do better than that!", Archer yelled.

"Don't hurt him!" she pleaded. But she still held the gun firm. Archer knew she wouldn't let go of her defense so easily. Too many battles in the station's interior and too many times Reaper had to bring the child back.
He observed her hesitance.

"Interesting how a child stands before me, yet a monster waits deep within you. The Directive's little toy. My perfect weapon." He held Jormun tightly, leaning close to the young quarian to speak. "You can't protect what she is, boy. And if you continue to try, you will die." Jormun stopped squirming.

Satima's mind raced. The corridor was dimly lit, shadows dancing along the walls with every flicker of the overhead lights. She knew the stakes were high, and Archer had the upper hand. Jormun's life was in danger, and she had to find a way to save him without losing herself to the rage that threatened to consume her.

Archer tightened his grip on Jormun, his eyes never leaving Satima's. "You think you can win this fight? I've seen what you can do, and I know your limits. You're nothing more than a broken girl, clinging to the hope that you can make a difference."

Satima's jaw tightened. She couldn't let Archer's words get to her. She had to stay focused and find a way to outsmart him. Her training kicked in, and she began to assess the situation, looking for any advantage she could find.

Jormun's eyes were wide with fear, but there was a determination in them that gave Satima a glimmer of hope. He wasn't just a helpless victim; he had the spirit of a fighter. If she could find a way to distract Archer, even for a moment, Jormun might be able to escape.

"Let him go, Archer," Satima said, her voice steady despite the turmoil within her. "This is between you and me."

Archer smirked, his grip on Jormun tightening. "Oh, but where's the fun in that? You see, it's not just about winning. It's about breaking you, piece by piece, until there's nothing left."

Satima didn't understand this. "Why?", she asked, her voice shaky. "What have I done to deserve this?"

Archer tilted his head in annoyance, then waved the soldiers to take her. At that moment, the turian in the shadows decided this was enough.
Undetected, he slid past two guards. The few steps he took brought him behind the synthetic android. He pointed his rifle, called the Widow, right at Archer's head, cocking the clip and ready to fire.

At the sound of a primed weapon, the droid smirked and looked around in surprise. "Sneaky bastard, aren't you? How long have you been here?" he asked irritably, his humanoid eye twitching.

"Long enough." The turian with blue markings held a controlled finger on the trigger.

Archer sneered before kicking the rifle out of the turian's hands. Using quick reflexes, the turian quickly brought out a pistol and shot him in the chest twice.

He staggered back, the bullet holes closing after impact. "Nice try."
The turian looked on in surprise as the android's chest wound began self-regenerating. Archer's mechanical eyes flashed with a blend of amusement and disdain as he took a step forward, his limbs moving with an eerie fluidity.

"You should have known better," Archer remarked, his voice dripping with arrogance. "These primitive weapons can't harm me."

Before the turian could react, Archer lunged forward, his hand outstretched in a swift and deadly motion. The turian barely managed to sidestep, adrenaline pushing his reflexes to the brink. He rolled to the side and took cover behind a large crate, his mind racing.

"Plan B," the turian muttered to himself, activating a cloaking device on his wrist. His form shimmered and vanished, leaving only the faintest ripple in the air where he had stood.

Archer's sensors scanned the room, but the turian had already moved, his cloaked figure darting silently from shadow to shadow. He needed a new approach. The android's regenerative abilities made direct confrontation futile.

As Archer scanned the room, his frustration grew. "You can't hide forever," he taunted, his voice echoing through the chamber. "I'll find you, and when I do, you'll wish for a quick death."

The turian ignored the taunts, focusing on his task. He attached an EMP grenade to the side of his pistol, knowing that a well-placed shot could disable Archer's systems, if only temporarily. He inched closer, his footsteps silent on the cold, metallic floor.

Archer was about to use his weapon before a sudden feeling of time became distorted. Distracted by this, Satima wrested herself from the militants and pulled out a hidden blade. The air around them shimmered, and it felt as though every second stretched into an eternity.

Confusion spread among the combatants as they struggled to comprehend the bizarre phenomenon.

Satima took this moment to take advantage of the distracted soldiers holding her, and with deadly efficiency, delivered a slicing blow to the closest one. She shoved the dying body forward, using the militant as a shield to stop the other soldiers from attacking her.

Suddenly, dark armored figures appeared through a ripped singularity in the room. Each stepped out in different places, surrounding them. They were named Stalkers, for their ability to appear in many places without being seen or heard. The stalkers started fighting with the soldiers.

The air was thick with tension as the directive soldiers, initially taken aback, quickly regrouped and readied their weapons. The Stalkers moved with an eerie grace, their armor blending seamlessly with the shadows of the room. Their eyes glowed faintly within their armored helmets, reflecting a malevolent intelligence that sent shivers down the spines of even the bravest soldiers.

One by one, the Stalkers closed in, their movements fluid and almost hypnotic. The first clash was swift, a cacophony of metal against metal, punctuated by the sharp cries of battle. The soldiers fought brutally, their training and discipline evident in every precise strike. Yet, the Stalkers' advantage lay in their uncanny ability to disappear and reappear at will, confounding their opponents and exploiting every weakness.

Archer was in a current battle with two of them when he noticed the turian running to Satima.

"Come on.", he said pulling her from a stalker, who had attempted to help her.

Jormun shot a soldier running behind them. "Satima are you okay?", he panted sprinting hard to keep up.

Satima nodded thinking about Reaper's sudden disappearance. Is what Archer said true? What if she's coming after her?

They made it to her ship as Do'ova greeted them with a rifle in hand. "The Directive is here!", she announced in a panic.

"No, shit!", Satima shouted, now taking the rifle and aiming down the open walkway to cover her friends. The group ran past her, as she quickly closed the small bay door.

Satima sprinted to the pilot chair and keyed controls for Haven to unlock from the docking system. Together, the crew piloted it away from the war-torn station, as fighters fired cannon lasers, destroying the once neutral and peaceful rest stop.

...................................................................................................................

The ship accelerated through space for a time. A maddeningly silent journey that prompted small talk. Jormun finished with the current maintenance on the stress of the engine. The old girl was starting to show signs of a shutdown. Not good. Do'ova approached him. Her own demeanor was jumpy. "They're following us, now. Aren't they? We don't stand a chance." She leaned on the wall, feeling more hopeless about her chances of seeing her family again.

Jormun sighed aloud to himself, closing a panel. They should've taken her home months ago. But Satima didn't want to risk another run-in with the pack. "We'll stand a chance if we work together," he said, facing her. "Don't give up on our captain." Trying to smile, remembering the helmet prevented himself from reassuring the salarian.

Do'ova's eyes scanned Jormun's face, searching for any flicker of confidence she could latch onto, but the protective helmet prevented her from connecting. She knew he was trying to be strong for both of them, but the weight of their predicament hung heavily in the air. The hum of the ship's engines was the only sound that filled the void, a stark reminder of their lonely flight through the cosmos.

Jormun straightened up, pushing aside his own fears. "We need to focus on the task at hand. Satima will make a plan, and we have to trust it." He placed a reassuring hand on Do'ova's shoulder, feeling the tension in her muscles. "Let's get to work on the next set of diagnostics. We can't afford any more delays."

Do'ova nodded, taking a deep breath. She drew strength from Jormun's resolve, even if it felt fragile. Together, they walked toward the control room, their footsteps echoing in the narrow passageways of the ship.

The turian merc made his way onto the first deck. He sat next to Satima in the co-pilot's seat, while she gathered herself from another close call.
She glanced at him quickly, returning her gaze to the stars. Satima let out a deep sigh, heavy with fear. "I've never seen a stalker up close before," she spoke quietly.

The turian merc turned, facing her with a shaky voice and unsure smirk. "All that menacing armor and manipulating space-time? It's just too surreal." He pressed a few buttons and clicked his mandibles in reflection.

Satima cleared her throat to speak on comms. "Jormun, check the left thruster again. I think it's trying to break off." Fearful that a stalker would suddenly appear on the bridge behind her, she made a glance and then returned to her navigational controls.

As the silence stretched, Satima's mind wandered to the desperate fight they had just survived. The stalker had appeared out of nowhere, its presence almost otherworldly. She had heard stories of such beings—whispers among the crew about their dark intentions and unparalleled strength—but seeing one up close was something else entirely.

The two sat in silence, the hum of the ship's engines their only companion. They had survived another close call, but the shadows of space held many more dangers. Together, the crew would navigate the void, ever watchful and ready for whatever came next.

Back at the station...
Archer threw his blade at the hanging body of a deceased stalker. It dangled from the dark-armored alien, as silver blood oozed from the wound. He took sport in this exercise often.

"Sir, we lost the Haven," a lackey reported.

Archer turned around and walked to him with a smile. His blue eyes narrowed on the unsuspecting subordinate.

"Is that all?" he asked calmly. The lackey nodded yes. Archer reached out, grabbing the neck of the man with incredible strength. He could see the fear in the human's grey eyes. Sweat beaded the man's brow as he squeezed tighter.

But it would be useless to throw away willing subjects. The Directive will notice and not like him breaking their toys.

Calmed, he resolved to let the human male free, giving a devious smile and straightening the servant's uniform. "Fortunately, your usefulness outweighs your inability to find a young girl."

The agent nodded, gulping hard.

Archer continued with his smile, gesturing for him to leave. "You may go."
He turned swiftly, facing the other Directive soldiers with a glare, as the lackey hurriedly disappeared into the remaining docks of the damaged station.

Archer resumed pacing the station's bar, overlooking a porthole into space. Turning with a nasty glare, he began to shout orders. "I want all scouts searching the Rim and Terminus systems. FIND ME SATIMA!", he roared, the cybernetic veins on his neck bulging with intensity. His voice echoed through the vast metallic corridors, resonating within the very structure of the station.
...............................................................................................
FTL preflight

Satima thought about the merc. His intentions to kill Reaper seemed a bit personal. Then again, her intentions would be too. The long years kept as a tormented protégé to Reaper trained in the deadliest ways haunted her life.

It took some time for her to break free from the habits, and the constant thoughts that molded her dreams into horrible nightmares. Satima remembered when she was little that she used to have the most beautiful blue eyes. They were human eyes. Mass amounts of injections later her sclera turned black. She went from a normal human girl to a freak.

The only other thing she was born with was the cranial ridges on her forehead, with deep lines that formed a very distinct feature down to the slightly raised ridges on her nose. Looking down, she observed the four fingers, instead of five. Remembering a human smile, she showed it to the mirror in the lavatory, seeing back rows of sharp predator teeth.

As Satima's appearance changed in childhood, so did the world around her. Strangers stared, curious and sometimes hostile to her new form. The isolation was suffocating. She no longer fit in the galaxy, yet she wasn't part of any other species. She was a unique being, alone in the cosmos. The loneliness gnawed at her soul, a constant reminder of her solitude.

.............................................................................................................................

Satima entered the mess room, her eyes immediately locked onto the merc, scrutinizing every detail with an intensity that made Jormun shift uncomfortably.

He watched the merc bring out dextro paste to eat and observed his change of armor, which shone a deep blue with a gold bird emblem on his right arm. It was old, with scorch marks and heavy scarring.

Do'ova, ever cautious, remained by the doorway, her eyes darting between Satima and the merc.

Satima paced as he kept eating. His right face and mandible had deep scars, most of which seemed healed. He had deep avian azure eyes with a glaring intensity. It was unnerving.

Navy-colored colonial markings covered the bridge of his raised flat nose to his eye, while an outdated visor covered his left. Satima folded her arms in frustration.

"You going to give us a name now?", she asked, her voice carrying a blend of curiosity and authority.

The merc looked up, his expression a mask of indifference."Names and stories cost extra," he said, his tone flat.

Satima smirked, a glint of amusement in her eyes. "Why were you watching us on the station? What made you stay long enough to help?"

"Why is it so important? I'm not hanging around here long, anyways.", he stated with a glare.

Satima raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by his lack of cooperation.

The turian then bit off the end of another plastic tube and spit it out. Paste oozed and an unpleasant odor filled the room.

Jormun shut off his filters. Do'ova swatted the whiff of putrid meat away from her nasal slats. "How awful!", she exclaimed.

Satima sat across, watching him suck out some paste ignoring her presence completely. As the merc finished his meal, he glanced around the room, his eyes lingering on each person present. Jormun could see the weight of his journey in those eyes, and for a moment, he felt a pang of empathy.

The merc ignored their stares. "No name. It's better that way.", he got up to leave, irritated by Satima's glare.

She held it longer, trying to intimidate him into an answer. "Why have you been helping us? What do you think you'll get out of it?"

His gaze narrowed on her. "Because you're weak. An amateur in combat, not experienced enough to wander this galaxy alone. With a boy for an engineer, a twitchy salarian as a chauffeur, and a pile of junk for transport." He started to laugh, mockingly, "Seems like I walked into a bad joke, then a serious team of smugglers who can dodge trouble when it's staring at them in the face." The turian began to leave the room, scoffing with a bitter laugh.

The turian's derisive laughter echoed through the dimly lit room, but it abruptly ceased when Satima stepped into his path. Her eyes blazed with determination, and her stance was resolute. The air between them crackled with tension.

"You're not going anywhere," she declared, her voice steady and unwavering. "You think you can just waltz in here, belittle my crew, and leave without consequence? Think again."

The turian's mandibles twitched in what could have been amusement or irritation—it was hard to tell. He loomed over her, his presence imposing, but Satima didn't flinch. She had faced greater threats than a condescending mercenary.  "Move aside, human," the turian growled, his tone losing some of its earlier mockery. "I've got no time for this."

Satima lifted her chin defiantly. "You're right about one thing: we're not experienced. But we've survived this long because we watch out for each other. You don't get to judge us."

For a moment, the turian seemed taken aback by her fierce defense. He studied her, his gaze searching for any sign of weakness. Instead, he found only unyielding resolve.

"How about I shove you out the nearest airlock? Don't think you can get past me because of my size!", she grinned showing her sharp teeth.
The turian merc, a towering figure, stepped back and cocked his head, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the situation.

Jormun fumbled for Ish, while Do'ova scurried back into the hall. Peeking around the doorway, unsure of what would come next.

Turning back to the young captain, the merc leaned in close, face to face, "Where I come from, we don't hit little girls," he said insultingly.
Satima punched him across the mandible, attempting a jab to his side, but missed. He sidestepped, landing a fist at her ribs, holding back from dealing heavy damage.

She coughed but regained her battle stance. It seemed familiar. Satima rushed at him, he sidestepped again, then she caught it. Hitting his throat, making him gasp for air, she backed up from her intended victory. Any harder and Satima could've killed him. He was impressed at her knowledge of hand-to-hand.

The turian merc was a seasoned warrior, but he underestimated the young captain at first. Her lithe frame and youthful appearance belied her true strength and skill. He had seen many battles and faced numerous opponents, but this was different. Satima's determination was palpable, her every move calculated with precision.

The two circled each other, eyes locked in a silent challenge. Satima's breathing steadied, and her stance relaxed yet poised, ready to strike. The mercenary smirked, enjoying the thrill of the fight. He lunged at her with a swift kick, but she parried effortlessly, responding with a series of rapid strikes that kept him on the defensive.

The merc admired her tenacity, recognizing a brutality in her skills. Despite his earlier insult, he couldn't help but respect her prowess.

Satima's focus sharpened as she noticed the slight hesitation in his sidestep and the momentary lapse in his guard. With a fierce determination, she exploited this weakness, delivering a powerful blow to his throat. The turian staggered, gasping for air, his eyes wide with surprise.

She could have ended it there, but Satima chose restraint. She grabbed his fringe knowing where to twist, while he yelled in pained rage. Satima moved swiftly behind him, attempting to chokehold him. The merc elbowed her in the chest right above the heart. She fell back rolling on all fours gasping in pain.

"ENOUGH!" Jormun's presence was not one to be ignored. His booming voice echoed through the mess hall, silencing the battle. Ish, his weapon, gleamed menacingly in the dim light, a stark reminder of the potential for violence.

The merc leaned against the wall, clutching his side and breathing heavily. She got him good, especially since it was the same spot Reaper kicked in days before; smart little brat. The pain surged through him, but he couldn't help but smirk. Satima had shown to be a fierce opponent, a fact that both infuriated and impressed him.

He looked up to see her wiping the blood from her lip, her eyes never leaving his. There was a mutual respect there, they both knew the value of a worthy adversary.

Jormun walked to Satima who vehemently pushed his efforts to help away. She stared at the turian, wincing from the fight. The dim lights of the ship's corridor cast harsh shadows on her face, revealing the bruises and cuts from the recent skirmish.

"Now... tell me your damn name, and apologize for mocking my crew!" she tried shouting it, wheezing from his elbowed blow. The pain in her voice was palpable, each word a struggle as she clutched her side. Her eyes burned with a fiery determination, refusing to show weakness

The turian mercenary gave a mandibled smile with a laugh, his blue eyes glinting with amusement. "No, but I'm sorry your ship is a piece of shit, and your crew is better off in daycare." He slid down the wall, resting with a smirk.

Satima started forward, her fists clenched in rage, but Jormun held her back firmly. "It's not worth it, Satima," he murmured softly, his voice a calming presence amidst the chaos. Jormun's grip was gentle yet unyielding, a silent plea for her to stand down. "You boshtets.", he mumbled while retrieving the first aid kits.

The merc used his last medi-gel kit to treat the recent assault on his ribs. Satima's childish complaints at her boyfriend gave him a headache. Jormun tried to apply the small tube of medi-gel to Satima's chest, above her shirt. The area had developed a large, round bruise on her skin. She was fortunate that the turian hadn't hit her harder.

"OW!" Satima exclaimed, staring at Jormun in displeasure. He fumbled with the tube as she yelled insults, his attempts to soothe her pain only intensifying her anger. The low yellow light of the mess area cast a tan hue on everyone's skin, making the atmosphere feel even more oppressive.

Do'ova, observing the scene, shook her head in frustration. "We should be worried about the Directive, not him!" she said, pointing to the turian. She directed her gaze to the captain, her large dark eyes glossy with concern. "Captain, what if he had killed you?" The question hung heavily in the air, the reality of their situation sinking into everyone's minds.

Satima, slowly calming down, nodded in agreement. She lifted a glare to the merc as he headed out of the mess area. The room fell into a tense silence, the only sound being the distant hum of the ship's engines.

...............................................................................................................................

Alone he wandered into the engine room. An old soul of the machinery lingering past its due. Maybe it needs some work.

Parts of the hull resembled a ship he used to serve on. He got down on the floor and found data pads with plenty of calculations on the various systems the ship held. Completing all the tasks would take a few hours, but he needed the distraction.

As time passed, he fell asleep leaning on the wall. His grey dream turned from the serene mountains of Palaven to a nightmare, filled with reapers, husks, and Her.

This horrific dream gave no indication of letting him wake. Even though he wanted to, an eerie feeling drew him deeper into the subconsciousness of his dreamscape. There she was; standing in front of him in full N7 armor, wielding her rifle with that sure gaze. He slowly walked to her and tried speaking as words formed in his mind.

The armor was burnt, flesh shown in patches covered in the crimson blood humans were known to have. She wavered in her stance, her eyes watery and bloodshot, seemingly surprised.

Nothing but a cold silence fell between them. She looked down with the saddest stare. Then, the silence was shattered by a distant roar, the ominous sound of approaching reapers echoing through his subconscious. He reached out to her, desperate to break the barrier of silence, but his hand met only empty air. Her figure started to fade, blending into the dark surroundings of his nightmare.

"Why are you here?" he finally managed to utter, his voice trembling with a mix of desperation and fear. She didn't respond, her gaze now fixed on the horizon where shadows moved with sinister intent.

Suddenly, the scene shifted. He found himself back in the engine room, but it was different. The walls were covered in a thick, black substance, pulsating with a life of its own. The machinery groaned and creaked, as if in pain. He tried to move, but his feet were rooted to the spot, trapped by the same black substance.

"Help me." Her voice echoed and trailed around him.

A figure emerged from the darkness, its eyes glowing with an eerie light. It was Reaper. She spoke in a harsh whisper that seemed to reverberate through the entire room.

"You cannot escape us," Reaper said. "We are everywhere. We are inevitable."

Panic surged through him as he struggled to free himself, but the more he fought, the tighter the substance held him. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the fear threatening to overwhelm him.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, the nightmare ended. He jolted awake, his body drenched in sweat, his mind racing. The engine room was quiet, the machinery humming softly around him. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, but the memory of the nightmare lingered, a dark shadow over his thoughts.

He stood up, his legs unsteady, and looked around the room. The data pads were still scattered on the floor, their screens glowing faintly in the dim light. He picked one up, staring at the numbers and equations, but his mind was elsewhere. The nightmare had felt so real, the presence of Reaper menacing.

He had a feeling of being watched. She stood there still as stone. Then she blinked her teal eyes at him. Satima hovered with her head cocked to one side. "That was some nightmare you had. Are you okay?" she asked.

He sat up quickly and stood facing Satima. His avian gaze searched angrily at her question. She didn't back up or blink. A brave and defiant stance that gave him a second or two of pause. He shook it off, knocking Satima out of his way to leave the engine room behind.

Satima scoffed loudly, staring at him in a personal rage.
"Asshole!", she shouted angrily down the corridor.

Chapter Text

Mess room
Do'ova paced nervously. If she had nails to chew, she'd do it while thinking, and overthinking. The captain has stated they will go to Omega. Being in the terminus systems, their little ship will be much safer from the Directive. Except it won't. Not with the blood pack lurking around the docks, waiting… watching. She knows it.

It was stupid of Jen to get into an argument with that krogan. "If he had just kept his mouth shut," Do'ova lamented.

Jormun and the turian merc gathered on opposite sides of the room. A distance that read well between them. The tension in the air was visible, almost suffocating. Do'ova could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she glanced at the others. Jormun's eyes were like daggers, fixed on the turian, who stared back with equal intensity.

He didn't trust the turian before, but the scrap in the mess room was enough evidence to cause his hackles to rise up. Despite the merc's help, there was something he was hiding about himself, and Jormun didn't want the risk of it troubling them any further. The Directive hounding their every step was enough of an issue.

Satima walked in from the cockpit heavy with concern. She leaned over the shiny dented surface of the table, sighing. "Ok, guys. I know it's been rough these past few days. We've bit off more than we can chew." She eyed the room. "If we don't refuel for a longer run, and stock up in case there's no choice but to hang around the Terminus systems," Satima leaned up, crossing her arms in resolution. "We'll be sitting vorcha. Easy to pick off."

Do'ova folded her slender arms to herself. Clearing a nervous throat as their captain continued.

"You know how dangerous the system's planets are; with plenty of gangs, illegal trades, and other unsavory life choice outcomes. Let's not volunteer. Remember to stay clear of anyone while we're at the station. If someone gets curious, lay low. Send a silent nock to my omni-tool."

The merc watched and listened closely as this girl for a captain finally acted more responsible; a leader her crew needed. How long it lasts? That'll be decided within the next couple of hours.

Satima glanced at Do'ova before dismissing the crew. Jormun nodded, heading back to engineering, but Do'ova wasn't satisfied. She needs to speak with her parents.

The turian merc watched the nervous salarian reluctantly walk to her captain. Satima faced her. "Listen, D. I know what you want, but we can't do it. Not this time. Let's wait for the Directive to lose interest again for a little while. Maybe…" She was cut off by her crewmate.

"Please!", her shrill voice seemed to pain Satima. "My father… he was sick!", she calmed herself, "I am very grateful for you and Jormun, for saving my life, but I need to check them. Then…I-I'll stay here forever. Serving this ship." A thin smile faded fast at her captain's expression.

"I can't make it happen.", Satima shot it down. "I'm sorry." The captain left back to pilot controls as Do'ova stared off in anger, leaving to stomp her way back to quarters.

The moment they dock, she'll slip out while the rest of them wander around for supplies. Her memories recalled the moment Jen was injured from the krogan. Do'ova's father tried patching his wound before the pack vorcha showed up.

After Satima's rescue, Do'ova found herself alone on the Haven suddenly wondering what had happened and where her family had ended up. The captain explained to her there was no going back, that she would be safe with them in the meantime.

Do'ova was resolved to find her family. Even if it meant putting everyone's life in danger. She wasn't a selfish person but her father needed her. With a heavy sigh, D settled on her plans and quickly began preparing in the cargo bay.

...............................................................................................................

They made it to Omega, with the Haven docked and loaded into the station's systems. Satima had requested re-fueling and some diagnostic checks. She stayed in the ship as the turian merc got ready to leave. He stopped short of the cockpit, the door out a few feet away.
"Leaving already?" she said, occupying herself with scans of the ship.
He smirked, not quite ready to step out of the airlock. Something made him linger.

"You said you were a prisoner of the HIVE station? How did you escape?" he asked, watching her movements closely, curious for her answer.
Satima stopped typing at his question. A deep memory played before her. She glanced away to the chair next to hers. Turning to face him, Satima stared past the merc. She saw something in the distance, a shadow, and shook her head.

"An opportunity came, and I took it. The rest gets fuzzy."
Satima returned to her work. The turian stood still, trying his best to read her. Humans had shifty ways of confusing him with their soft facial expressions. He'd get lucky with his best guess, and sometimes he could figure out the subtle hints of anger or fear. Satima still checked her ship's diagnostics, paying no attention as the merc left.

On Omega, he returned to a spot long forgotten by the new inhabitants. The broken bridge that was never repaired creaked from his steps. His favorite perch to scan the area displayed overhead as he walked further into the old building. The memories flooded his mind like an unwanted torrent, yet he pressed on, compelled by an unseen force.

Ascending the stairs slowly, he could still hear the gunfire in his mind. The echo of battles long past reverberated through the halls like ghosts refusing to rest. The room to his left remained closed, a morgue he set up for some of his fallen comrades. Each name carved into his memory, each loss a dagger to his heart.

"Probably bones now," he said to himself, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. He brushed his fingertips against the door, feeling the cold metal beneath his skin before pulling away, unwilling to confront the past beyond that threshold.

To his right was the room with the balcony. She found him right at this spot, and things were never the same again—not for her and not for him. He hesitated before entering, the weight of her absence almost too much to bear.

He sat down in the old bunker room on the second floor, eyeing a bottle of brandy lying underneath a bed. Grabbing it, he gulped the hard liquor fast. It burned so good down his throat, a welcome distraction from the relentless ache in his chest. He closed his eyes, letting the alcohol numb his senses.

An hour of self-loathing later, he left the old compound. At a terminal hub, he wanted to contact an old friend. Thinking fondly, suddenly, of her powder blue skin and tender smile. The thought of her brought a flicker of warmth to his cold heart, a fleeting reminder of what once was.

It felt like a betrayal to another. He shook his head. She's gone—dead. And he's been dead along with her for a long time. Maybe too long? The question lingered, unanswered, as he keyed in the sequence to reach out to his old friend.

Before he could make the call, a station-wide alert came on. The large holo-projector shows a face. It was Satima's. There was a hefty bounty for her straight from the Directive.

"Damn!", he thought, watching a large seedy crowd begin to copy details onto their omni-tools.
...............................................................................................................................

At the docks, Satima waited in the warehouse district. It was hard to focus with a blaring alarm coming from inside of the station. Jormun left to call his family, promising to not take long. Satima wanted to meet his mother someday.

He often spoke of the migrant fleet, his family, and his home planet Rannoch; about the lush landscapes, the vibrant sunsets, and the sense of community among the migrant fleet. It sounded like a dream, a paradise compared to the harsh realities she had known. But could she let herself believe in that dream? Could she trust in a future with Jormun, despite her fears?

He wants to take her there, someday and give her a safe place to live; to call home. But that means a closer relationship. One she's not sure she's ready for. Pacing in circles, the time had passed into a later hour.

Worried, she went looking for him. Satima tried comming to Jormun. No answer. Bringing her tool to message Do'ova.

"D.", she commed. Seconds passed with no answer. She tried it again, trying not to attract attention. "D? Where are you?"
Silence.

Full of worry, Satima walked amongst the heavy crowd, pushing them out of her way, noticing how noisy the area had become. The docks were getting full, and so was the entrance to the wards below. Getting supplies will be harder without an audience, now.

Several crowds spoke to each other in hushed tones, relaying or syncing their omni-tools together. A voice from above the market's balcony started repeating an announcement. Looking up, she noticed this crowd staring at the large holoprojector. It had her face on it. Satima gulped and backed up slowly. If she drew attention to herself, any bounty hunter in that crowd could find her.

She turned around and started to walk fast back to her ship. When Satima got there, directive soldiers were all over it. Cursing under her breath, she watched from the corner of a docking platform as they searched the ship. It felt like they were invading her own body. Her SHIP! There were no signs of Do'ova or Jormun. Were they taken?

She needed a plan, and fast. Satima knew this station like the back of her hand, or at least she thought she did. Her mind raced with thoughts of Do'ova and Jormun. They were her trusted companions, and the possibility of them being captured filled her with dread.

Satima backed up looking around in a panic. She found a tan cloth lying in some old tools on the floor. Satima wrapped it around her head, covering her face, walking past the same crowd. With her crew missing and enemies on every corner, Satima knew she had no choice but to contact the merc.

"If he's still here?", she thought.

He watched the crowd. The Haven was already swarmed by soldiers, but they turned up empty-handed. He figured she had either escaped or left earlier before they came.

A lone figure pushed hard past the crowd below. Although her head was covered, her unique eyes darted between groups of Omega residents, watching for sudden movements toward her.
Satima.

The turian merc immediately walked into the crowd blending in as carefully as possible. Satima never noticed him as he followed her steadily inside an elevator. He then touched her arm to alert the captain.
She gasped at him and pulled out a long blade. "How do you find me?!", she yelled angrily at the surprise.

"You can't seem to stay out of trouble kid.", he smirked.

Satima's eyes flared with both recognition and frustration as she glared at the turian mercenary. "You know I don't always need saving," she hissed, her grip tightening on the blade.

"Maybe not, but it looks like you could use some help," he replied, his tone casual but his eyes vigilant as they scanned the elevator for threats. "Now, put that away before someone gets hurt."

Reluctantly, Satima lowered the blade, but she didn't sheath it. "What do you want?" she demanded, still on edge.

"To get you out of here," he said simply. "The Haven is crawling with soldiers, and they're not going to stop until they find you."

Satima bit her lip, weighing her options. She knew he was right; staying meant certain capture. But trusting him wasn't easy either. "Fine," she said.

The turian mercenary chuckled softly. "Just follow my lead."

Satima hit a panel to an unknown floor. The elevator doors opened to a dimly lit hallway. He stepped out first, his posture relaxed yet alert. Satima followed closely, her senses heightened, ready for any sign of betrayal. Together, they navigated through the labyrinthine corridors of Omega, avoiding patrols and slipping through shadows like ghosts.

The further they got, the older the corridor halls seemed. Eventually, they stopped at a lone elevator. "Well. Only one way to go down without using maintenance tunnels.", Satima stated.

Inside another lift, the ride down became bumpy and a deep rumble inside the shaft echoed to them.

The turian stepped to the panel. "What floor did you press?" His nerves are on edge.

She shrugged in confusion."There was only one way."

Turning to her, he gave a questioning glare. "New to Omega?", he replied sarcastically.

Satima gave him an evil stare before the panel light dinged loudly. At that sound, the turian had a rifle ready for any surprise. The elevator stopped and the door slid open to a dark district. For a reason long abandoned, it had been deserted by all residents.

Satima held her hand in the pitch-black atmosphere; she couldn't see it. The merc stepped out cautiously and turned on his rifle light. "Stay behind me," he said in a serious tone.

Satima scoffed, "I can take care of myself. I'm not afraid of the dark."
He grunted in irritation at her comment. She'll either die horribly or get them both killed. Horribly.

They moved through the abandoned district, their footsteps echoing through the empty streets. The buildings around them stood like silent sentinels, their windows dark and hollow. The only light came from the merc's rifle and the occasional flicker of a malfunctioning streetlamp.
"I don't like this," the turian muttered, his eyes scanning the shadows. "Too quiet."

Satima rolled her eyes. "Just because it's quiet doesn't mean something's going to jump out at us."

He grumbled to himself loudly. She's trying to act brave. "There's always something waiting to jump out of the dark", he warned.

...............................................................................................................................

Gozu District
Jormun had finished his call earlier than expected. Keelah! His mother can be so stubborn! Wanting him to come home, thinking that all he knew about the Directive was good enough to fulfill the tradition of Pilgrimage. It wasn't. And he’s not coming home. Not without his friends.

He tried comming to Satima with no luck. Even Haven couldn't receive his call. There must be some jammers nearby courtesy of some slumlord wanting to make a quick credit over call charges. He hates this place and fears it.

The bar was hectic, housing too many gangs, and too many smaller factions. All pushing and biting their way to the top. A top that was barred shut from anyone. Who knows where the infamous Aria T'Loak is?

Jormun slipped through the crowd, the smell of sweat, alcohol, and something more acrid filled the air. He found a corner that seemed relatively empty and leaned against the wall, watching the interactions around him.

A group of Batarian mercenaries laughed loudly at a table nearby, their four eyes glinting with malice. Jormun averted his gaze, not wanting to provoke them. He spotted a Turian in a dark coat speaking in hushed tones with a Volus at the bar.

Jormun kicked an empty hallex container out of his way, hearing someone from the side scurry to the corner beside him. He faced their direction, Ish out. "Who's there?"

A tall figure stepped out of the shadow. "Do'ova? What in Kee are you doing down here?"

She blushed, looking down in embarrassment. "Looking for my family."

"Does Satima know that?", he asked.

Do'ova shook her head. "She won't help me. Why? I've been a good shipmate, haven't I?"

Jormun felt sorry for her. He was as much in the dark about the rest of that bar fight as she was. The memory of the vorcha swarming them was still fresh in his mind. He remembered the chaos, the noise, and the shouts of panic and anger.

Amidst the confusion, Jormun had instinctively shot a vorcha in the face, providing a crucial moment for Do'ova to find cover. He could see her family struggling under heavy fire from the brawling blood-pack. The scene was a cacophony of clashing weapons and desperate cries, and for a moment, it seemed like there was no hope of escaping the deadly confrontation.

Desperation hung heavy in the air, and the odds seemed insurmountable. The vorcha were relentless, their savage attacks leaving little room for hope. Just as Jormun was beginning to think that they might not make it out, a sudden shift in the battlefield drew his attention.

No one could react until Satima appeared out of nowhere, a whirlwind of precision and prowess. With lightning-fast movements, she took down two vorcha with deadly accuracy, then turned and shot a krogan in the eye, following it up with a slice behind his great armored knee, hitting the vulnerable spot. The krogan, brought to his knees, let out a guttural laugh, reveling in the pain and the gush of his own blood.

Satima's arrival turned the tide, providing a crucial cover for Jormun and Do'ova. Amidst the chaos, Do'ova's desperate cries for her father echoed through the smoky air. Satima guided them both out of the bar unscathed. Their escape ended with a breathless retreat to the safety of Haven.

"Do you think they're still on this station?", he wondered, thoughts coming back to their precarious reality.

The salarian nodded furiously. "Oh, yes. I accepted a call that our captain did not answer. It was Jen. He's alive and needs help."

"Help with what?", Jormun worried.

Do'ova stood closer. Making sure no one heard, leaning to whisper. "The pack has him and father. We can save them."

Keelah.
…...........................

Satima stood next to the turian, a blade visible in her human-like hand. She tilted her head to each sound, careful where to step. Maybe she was capable after all?

They walked past an open doorway. Debris had fallen into it. There were poorly lit hallways and one particularly scary flickering light. Unfortunately for Satima, it brought a bad memory of being alone in the dark in the HIVE's honeycombed levels and shadowy alcoves on every deck of the station. She closed her eyes briefly, before returning her stare back into a void.

So, she lied to him. It wouldn't make things better if she jumped at every sound, or if she imagined a horrible monster coming at her from this darkness.

The turian could tell through his visor that her heart was racing. Everyone is afraid of what you can't see coming at you.

They continued down the corridor, the flickering light casting eerie shadows that seemed to move on their own. Satima tightened her grip on the blade, her knuckles whitening. She glanced at the turian, who seemed unfazed, his posture a model of calm and readiness. She envied his composure but knew she had to find her own strength within.

As they neared a corner, a sudden clatter echoed through the hallway. Satima froze, every muscle in her body tensed. The turian raised a hand, signaling her to stay put as he moved forward to investigate. She watched him, her breath shallow, her mind racing with possibilities of what might lie ahead.

The turian returned, his face unreadable behind the visor, but his voice steady. "Just a loose piece of metal," he said. "Nothing to worry about."
She nodded, swallowing hard. They moved on, the silence between them heavy with unspoken fears. Satima's mind drifted back to the HIVE, the oppressive darkness, the feel of cold metal under her fingertips as she navigated the labyrinthine passages. She had survived that, she reminded herself. She could survive this too.

Further into the district, the sound of whispering suddenly passed behind them, sending chills down their spines. They both spun around, their hearts pounding in their chests.

"I don't like this," Satima remarked, her voice trembling.
He didn't either. The oppressive silence and constant darkness were a perfect setup for an ambush from anything lurking in the shadows.
After a few tense minutes of walking, they reached a grated metal bridge stained with old, dried blood. It overlooked a long drop into a vat of Eezo, the sight of which was unnerving.

The whining noise of the mining machines echoed around them as they crept forward, their every step deliberate and cautious. Glowing blue ore cast eerie lights on the path they descended.

"Don't look down," he warned with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood, though his voice betrayed his anxiety.

Satima averted her eyes, but her foot slipped in the sticky, oozy blood, almost sending her over the edge.

"Careful!" he hissed, his grip tightening on his rifle.
She steadied herself, her face pale. "Human," he pointed out, the tension in his voice palpable.

"How do you know?" Satima asked, her voice shaky. "It could be vorcha or krogan."

"The smell," he answered grimly, nodding to the air, the oppressive sense of danger growing stronger with every breath.

She didn't need the details of how he became acquainted with the smell of human blood. What was strange was the fact the old blood didn't coagulate properly. It should have been like an old paint stain, not liquid and runny.

An open doorway that looked clear and well-lit seemed to be the path out. Satima followed, every nerve on edge, watching for anything to come jumping out at them. Her heart raced faster as she felt something was watching them, following them.

The merc's visor alerted him again to squadmate distress. "Calm down. You're not alone here," he said over his shoulder, his voice a low growl. His taller height cast a long, looming shadow over her.

She nodded back to him and took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Satima felt better, for a few minutes, at least. But the unease crept back in. She missed Jormun. He would've had her back.

…........................................................

Do'ova cautiously led them further into the Ariake district. Another stairwell led them through the warehouse levels. Her omni-tool glowed orange over the sandy-toned features of her face. Licking thin lips in anticipation of the find, she pressed on.

Jormun watched the alleys, eyeing anything suspicious. If her cousin was down here, was he still alive? "D, are you sure this is the right area?" His nervous voice made him clear an overly dry throat.

She nodded, walking faster ahead. "His code is through this door."
Keelah, it was one of the gang's clubs. Loud music thrummed from the walls, as a few patrons stalked outside around them. Vorcha. Dirty, nasty things. With features made of nightmares. One of them stopped the pair, halting them in place.

"You go no further! Not Blood!", he spat at them.

Do'ova shook from fear, trying to muster enough courage to buy their way in. She gulped, thrusting a forceful arm out toward it. Omni-tool glowing on them, she brought up the door fee. "Five hundred creds!"

Jormun winced at her shouting the number. He stood to her side, ready to fight. Hoping not to.

The vorcha screeched awfully, shaking his head in dissatisfaction. "Not enough! Not enough, I say! Need more for special Afterlife meeting. Yes?"

They didn't need to know what that meant. Do'ova supplied another two hundred credits. Their screechy friend shouted in amusement. "Yeeesss! This will be fun!", he laughed loudly at them, opening the door.

Jormun rushed Do'ova in, his mind racing with questions and fears. They found themselves in a dimly lit corridor, the pulsing bass of the music almost tangible in the air. The walls seemed to close in on them, and every shadow felt like a lurking predator.

Do'ova scanned the area with her omni-tool, searching for any traces of her cousin's signal. "This way,"

Inside, the atmosphere was electric, with bodies swaying to the rhythm of pounding music. Do'ova's cheeks flushed as her eyes caught sight of two asari, lost in a passionate embrace, oblivious to the chaos around them. She gave a small, nervous smile before weaving her way through the throng, her omni-tool scanning fervently for any sign of her cousin.

Navigating the pulsating dance floor, they were suddenly spotted by a menacing krogan clad in dark red armor, his face a tapestry of burn scars etched with a sinister grin. Jormun struggled to keep pace with Do'ova, but she soon vanished into the sea of bodies.

Desperately shouting her name, he shoved away hissing vorcha, red sand spilling beneath his boots as two humans scrambled out of his path. Without warning, hands clamped onto his arm, a vise-like grip halting his advance. A sharp blow to his helmet sent him sprawling to the floor, the world spinning around him. Dancers swarmed, a blur of motion, as a towering figure loomed over him. "Well, well, well," rumbled a deep voice filled with dark amusement. "It looks like our little rat has returned."

…..

They ended up in a large, barely lit room with rust-colored walls in puke green and mud brown. The black walls were wet with condensation from the many pipes that flowed through. Steam spurted out from small holes in the metal pipes, creating an eerie atmosphere.

The turian quickly turned off his rifle light. The faint glow from the dim illuminators barely cut through the darkness. In front of them, the walkway led to a set of stairs. They began to descend cautiously, each step echoing in the oppressive silence.

At the bottom, they faced a door that was locked, separating them from a hallway with glass walls marred by bullet holes. Satima stepped forward, her keen eyes studying the panel intently.

"I can hack through. It's an old encrypted lock," she announced confidently, activating her omni-tool with a determined expression.

As she worked, he scanned the area, noticing shards of broken glass scattered across the floor and the corroded remains of several pods. His attention was drawn to a terminal near one of the pods. With a sense of foreboding, he turned it on.

A file titled "The Adjutant Project" caught his eye. Cerberus had tried to keep it in control but failed miserably. He found some footage from the security cameras, his fingers hesitating before pressing play. The screen flickered to life, revealing grainy, nightmarish scenes of chaos and horror. Adjutants, monstrous creatures born of dark experiments, rampaged through the facility, their grotesque forms a testament to Cerberus's hubris.

His eyes widened as the camera feed switched to a familiar figure battling the abominations, her movements fluid and fierce. It was her. He could never mistake those determined eyes and relentless spirit. A strong feeling of regret made him queasy, memories of their past flooding back with a vengeance.

Unable to bear it any longer, he turned off the monitor, the darkness of the room swallowing the screen's glow. His heart pounded, not just from the fear of what lay ahead, but from the haunting regret of lost chances and the inevitable confrontation with the ghosts of their history.

Satima's fingers flew over the keys, the screen flashing lines of code as she bypassed the security measures. Her focus was intense, blocking out the eerie ambiance of their surroundings. The turian kept a watchful eye, muscles tense, every noise seeming to amplify in the silence.

Finally, with a triumphant beep, the lock disengaged. She looked up, a proud smile spreading across her face. "I got IT!", Satima shouted, proud of her skill.

He flinched to see if one of those things would come running out of the darkness. Nothing happened. At least not yet.

"Spirits, kid! Keep your voice down!", he told her a little too loud himself.
She covered her mouth and made an apologetic stance to him.
The door opened behind her, while the turian turned his rifle's light back on and nearly dropped it in horror.

"SATIMA! RUN!", he screamed.

Satima was yanked by the very monster he had watched earlier on the screen. She screamed, a cacophony of curses and kicks. He fired at it with determination, careful not to hit her. Her body twisted and turned in a desperate attempt to break free, her breath coming in ragged gasps of terror.

A high-pitched whine began to drown out all other sounds as she fought. Amidst the chaos, one thought consumed her mind. Survive. Her trembling hand reached for the weapon strapped to her belt.
With a fierce cry, Satima drove her blade into the creature's eye, unleashing a torrent of dark blood that splattered across her shoulder.

The adjutant staggered back, clutching the weapon in agonized fury. Seeing his chance, the turian sprinted towards her, only for the adjutant to swipe at them once more.

They dodged together, and he pushed her behind an overturned console. Her entire body quaked with fear. The monster roared in a fit of rage, tearing ancient terminals from their bases and sending sparks flying in all directions.

She stared ahead, paralyzed by the raw terror that gripped her, the memory of narrowly escaping death still fresh in her mind. Satima heard a voice shouting at her, but it was drowned out by the deafening thud of her own frantic heartbeat.

The turian mercenary desperately tried to break through her panic, but she was consumed by fear. He grasped her chin firmly yet gently, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Listen to me," he commanded, his voice cutting through the chaos. She continued to hyperventilate, her gaze fixed in horror. He shook her by the shoulder, more urgently this time. "Satima! We have to run! Look at me!"

Her eyes, wide and dark teal, finally locked onto his. In his avian stare, she found an unexpected calm. He released his hold on her chin. "I know you're scared," he said, his voice steady amidst the turmoil. Behind them, the creature, having dislodged the blade from its eye, was now on the hunt, biotic warps crashing into objects around the room.

He tightened his grip on his rifle, feeling the weight of their situation pressing heavily on his shoulders. "We can escape if we work together. You told me you survived HIVE?"

Satima nodded. Slowing down her breathing, listening to him.

"Then you can survive this.", he tried to widen his mandibles into a smile. It was cocky and unused, but Satima gave a surprising response. "Ok.", she agreed. "Let's get out of here."

They ran past the door and found a broken hatch to their left. The other way was also covered in debris when the adjutant began roaring behind.
Panicked, they searched desperately for a new way out. He noticed a leaking gas pipe in the hall that could be ignited on the adjutant, but they needed to find cover. Satima found an open hatch with a ladder.
"We can escape here!", she shouted in a panic.

He glanced at the leaking pipe and then back at Satima. "Go! I'll cover you!" he ordered.

"But—" she hesitated, fear and worry etched on her face.

"Just go!" he insisted, turning to face the approaching menace. Satima nodded and climbed through the hatch, her legs trembling but determined.

The adjutant lunged forward, its monstrous form illuminated by the flickering lights. He took careful aim at the gas pipe and fired. The explosion rocked the corridor, sending a wave of fire and debris towards the creature. With a guttural roar, it was engulfed in flames.

The adjutant came running down the hallway, its biotic warps hurling towards them. There was no time to debate. He pushed Satima down the ladder, turned almost face to face with the beast, and then threw himself back down the chute. The roar of the explosion still echoed in his ears as he landed heavily on the bottom ground floor.

Down the chute, he plummeted onto something soft and lumpy, the impact rattling his sore ribs. The heat from the fire singed the front of his armor, leaving it smoldering. Moments passed in a haze of pain before he managed to struggle to his feet.

"Satima?" he called out, his voice strained. "Where are you?" His desperation echoed in the darkness.

A faint moan reached his ears from below.
"...he...here..." she whispered, her hand feebly rising.

"Spirits!" he exclaimed, reaching down to pull her up from the debris that had ensnared her.

The turian, realizing he had landed on her, quickly scanned for any injuries, guilt gnawing at him. Satima stumbled but clung to him, her steps unsteady as if she were intoxicated. She turned to face him, her eyes filled with pain.

"You fell on me! That really hurt," she muttered before collapsing to the ground, unconscious.

Kneeling beside her and shaking his head, he knew her vitals were steady with a quick scan. Picking Satima up, the turian merc hoisted her over his shoulder; just his luck. They needed to find a safer place, away from the danger that still lurked in the facility. His steps were quick but cautious, each one laden with the weight of their survival.

….......................................................................................

Jormun woke up with a splitting headache. If he gets any more blows to the head, he'll end up with permanent trauma. Keelah, where is Do'ova?
The quarian noticed his arms were unable to move about freely. Glancing down, he viewed the restraints on his wrists. Do'ova made whimpering sounds from his left. She was equally restrained and panicking.

"D… are you alright?", he asked. "D?"

She stared away, shaking with fright.

Before he could speak again, the sound of heavy footsteps approached. The dim light revealed the same krogan who had knocked him out. He sauntered towards them, his scarred face twisted into a cruel smirk.

"Welcome back to consciousness, little rats," he snarled, his voice dripping with malice. "You have a lot of nerve coming here."
Jormun struggled against his restraints, his mind racing. "We don’t want any trouble. We’re just looking for someone."

The little room they occupied had a musty smell, the air thick with tension. Dust motes fluttered in the dim light, casting eerie shadows on the walls. A vent between the wall next to him and the outside looked sealed shut, trapping the stifling heat inside.

His heart pounded as he realized they might be deep within the ore processing levels—a place notorious for its harsh conditions and ruthless overseers. Where were they?

His thoughts were interrupted by the door creaking open. Two vorcha entered, their eyes gleaming with malice. Jormun's stomach churned at the sight of the krogan's scarred face.

"Prax Worlock," he muttered under his breath, anxiety gnawing at him.

Prax circled Do'ova, his predatory gaze fixed on Jormun. "So, rat," he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "You've come back to finish the job? Perhaps claim the payment promised for your little pilgrimage?"

Jormun's throat tightened, his words barely escaping. "I'm here for a friend. Her family. Where are they?" His voice wavered as Prax loomed closer. "If-If you know, I mean."

Prax's laughter was cold and cruel. "Oh, I know," he said, turning his attention to Do'ova. "Well. I believe a certain someone has been missing you. Let's go visit him."

With a signal, the vorcha undid their restraints. Jormun's pulse quickened as he was pushed behind Prax, and Do'ova was forced to lead the way. Fear knotted in his gut as they marched through the oppressive corridors, the walls closing in like a vice. The network of ore processing holds loomed ahead, filled with the sounds of forced labor.

The Terminus systems were always a gamble with life and death, but now, every step felt like walking a razor's edge.

"Where are we going?" Jormun's voice was barely a whisper, fear creeping into every word. "Are you going to enslave us to the Blood Pack?"

A vorcha struck him with a shock baton, sending a jolt of pain through his body. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to keep moving.

Prax stopped at a lift, pressing a button on the panel. "Making you a worker would be satisfying," he growled. "But you're too much trouble. Too knowledgeable about our operations."

Jormun's heart pounded. The uncertainty of his fate gnawed at him. Do'ova swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the massive krogan. "Dural didn't mean to interfere, Prax. He's young and foolish."

"You're right about that," Prax said, his tone dripping with menace.

"So, he's alive? Right? Please tell me he's alive," she pleaded.

The lift came to a halt, the doors sliding open to reveal a hellish landscape. The heat from the furnaces below was almost unbearable, scorching the air they breathed. Prax marched ahead, leading them to a row of steel cages. With a twisted grin, he opened one. "Here's your friend."
Do'ova rushed inside, looking intensely at the floor. A similar sandy-toned male salarian lay motionless on the grated bottom of the cage. His eyes were wide with terror. Slash marks on his legs and arms had been stained with colored blood.

"Pity. If you had been here a few weeks ago, you know? When I sent the demand. He'd be alive, still. Ah, well."

Prax laughed aloud, his booming voice echoing off the hollow level. Jormun shook his head; poor D.

Do'ova's fists clenched, her face a mask of anguish as tears streamed down her cheeks. She took a deep breath, her body vibrating with anger, and then, with a swift motion, landed a punch squarely on Prax's snarling face.

"You Werlock bastard!" she screamed, her voice echoing through the oppressive corridors.

Prax knocked her down hard. Putting a large foot on her slender chest, pressing hard as she gasped to breathe. "I'll crush you like the bug you are!", he roared.

Jormun had to act fast. He tripped the left vorcha, taking a brutal hit to the gut from the other. Borrowing a move from Satima, Jormun head-butted the vorcha, which screeched in rage as the quarian slid out of the way.

The vorcha lunged at Jormun, but its momentum carried it over the edge of the catwalk and into the fiery furnace below. Only one attacker remained, and Jormun's eyes darted around for a weapon. Spotting the shock baton, he seized it and delivered a series of brutal, high-voltage strikes. The second vorcha convulsed under the electric onslaught before collapsing, unconscious, at Jormun's feet.

Panting heavily from the brutal skirmish, Jormun's focus zeroed in on Prax. The savage krogan was poised to finish Do'ova; desperation gripped him. If he couldn’t stop Prax, Do'ova would die.

He couldn't take Prax on directly like Satima would. He wasn't an expert in hand-to-hand combat; he was just an engineer from Rannoch! But Do'ova's strained breaths lit a fire in him. He was an engineer and a quarian. Hacking was in his blood.

Jormun quickly tweaked the shock baton, amping up its power to the maximum surge. It wouldn't kill Prax, but it would deliver pain in spades. Redundant nervous system be damned.

With a burst of determination, Jormun sprinted forward, targeting an opening under Prax's arm. As the krogan focused on finishing Do'ova, Jormun jammed the shock baton into Prax's armpit. The krogan's roar echoed through the chamber as the full jolt coursed through him, enough to fry a vorcha to a crisp.

Jormun helped Do'ova up, his heart racing as fear and urgency gripped his mind. He could feel the weight of each second pressing down on them, knowing that any delay could mean their end. They hastily walked to the lift, the metallic clang of their footsteps mirroring the pounding of his heart. As they reached the top floor, Jormun glanced over his shoulder, half-expecting Prax or another attacker to appear at any moment.

Inside one of the elevators back to the docks, he checked Do'ova’s injuries with shaking hands, applying medi-gel as quickly as he could. She winced once or twice, her eyes full of pain but resolute. The blaring alarms and the station-wide announcement about their escape only heightened his sense of dread.

Pushing themselves out of the elevator, they moved slowly, every step a struggle against the exhaustion and pain from the fight. Jormun's eyes darted around, scanning the crowd for any sign of danger. Directive soldiers were everywhere, their presence a constant reminder of the peril they were in.

Keelah, he thought, we have to keep moving. We can't stop now. The urgency of their situation gnawed at him, every nerve in his body screaming for them to hurry before it was too late.

..................................................................................................

The turian cautiously stepped forward into the bustling new district, his eyes squinting against the extra light that poured in from above. Music blared from the balconies, reverberating off the metal walls and creating a symphony of sound that enveloped him. Above, sky cars zipped by, vanishing into the deep tunnels of the mining levels below.

Satima remained motionless in his arms, showing no signs of waking. As the minutes dragged on, the weight on his shoulder grew heavier. It wasn't that Satima was particularly heavy, but her armor combined with the ten minutes he had already carried her was beginning to take its toll.
He meandered into the ward, his eyes catching sight of a familiar red graffiti mark on the wall, bringing a smile to his face.

Suddenly, as he advanced further into the district, a group of turians appeared, weapons at the ready. They encircled him, cutting off any route of escape.

He couldn't help but think, "I hate surprises."

You have no business here. We allow only so many refugees at a time, and only turians," the turian in red and black demanded, his voice dripping with hostility. They all had their helmets on, their cold eyes hidden from view.

"I am a turian, you moron," he yelled, his voice shaking with agitation.

More of them gathered behind him, their eyes glinting with malice as they pointed and smirked. "Who is she? Your mate?" they all laughed, the sound harsh and mocking.

"Slip her a little fun in the drink?", one from behind sniggered.

He glared at them. Welcome to Omega, where the obvious is oblivious to the rest.

A turian who was respected approached, with deep crimson armor. He wore no helmet, and his face along with one mandible was covered in brown clan markings. Yellow eyes stared straight his way, while a few salutes were given him.

"What's going on here?", he said sternly. Staring at the two newcomers in the Talons district.

One of the talons stepped forward, "Sir! We have trespassers. An old turian male and the alien girl whose bounty was on the wall."

The lone turian's head snapped to the Talon merc, but a more alarming question interrupted his thoughts; were they watching them the whole time? Could the adjutant be theirs?

As he grappled with these thoughts, the crimson-armored turian took a step closer, inspecting them both with a discerning eye. "Is this true?" he asked, his voice simmering with authority. The old turian felt a shiver run down his spine, but he stood firm, tightening his grip on Satima.

Taking a deep breath, the old turian recounted their harrowing escape from the adjutant, emphasizing their desperate need for refuge. As he spoke, the Talon leader's expression softened slightly, but his eyes never strayed from Satima.

"She's the one with the bounty," he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. "But she's also injured and unarmed."

The respected gang leader walked closer to him and Satima, as he studied the taller turian in blue. Then he laughed, slapping the carapace back of the younger turian in surprise.

"Men. Put your weapons down! We have a legend in our district.", his demeanor changed into a more relaxed state.

They all looked at each other, obeying their orders. What was he talking about?

Aiden held out his taloned hand," Garrus-Damn-Vakarian! I thought you were dead?"

Garrus finally recognized the leader. "Aiden Aurelius? It's been a long time.", he shook it vigorously, eyeing the younger turian mercs.

Aiden returned the favor, "Too long. What's got you wandering back here for?" He questioned.

Garrus took a deep breath, "We're in need of a safe haven and some assistance. Satima's injuries need attention, and we've been on the run for far too long."

Aiden's eyes narrowed but not with suspicion, instead with a hint of understanding. "Then you came to the right place, my old friend."

The old turian nodded, relief washing over him. "Thank you."

The leader gestured to his men, who reluctantly lowered their weapons. "Follow me," he instructed. "And keep a low profile. We don't want to draw any unnecessary attention."

As they moved deeper into the Talons district, the old turian couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope. Perhaps, amidst the chaos of Omega, they had finally found a place to regroup and plan their next move. But he knew better than to let his guard down. In a place like Omega, danger lurked around every corner, and trust was a rare commodity.

They were led inside the Talons' base that was hidden down an alley, and beyond a few shops. Aiden stopped in front of the door of a drug den. He put in an access code. Once through, Garrus saw a whole new underground of people.

Mostly turians and a few asari, these were refugees that could not leave Omega due to unchangeable circumstances. The sick were laid in one area of the building with volunteers trying to nurse them and any injured had been piled behind the groups. He could hear children playing somewhere.

Dextro nutrient paste came in stock and barrel. Stacked twelve feet high next to each other on the far-left-hand wall behind some Talon mercenaries guarding it. Following the turian men, Garrus noticed a small room to their right. That's where they were heading.

Garrus and Satima were ushered into the small room, which appeared to be makeshift medical quarters. Aiden gestured for them to sit. "We'll take care of Satima's injuries here. Our medic will be with you shortly," he assured them before stepping back out to address his men.

As they waited, Garrus examined the room. It was sparse, with just a few medical supplies and a single cot. But it was a sanctuary compared to the harsh realities outside. Satima winced as she shifted on the cot, and Garrus immediately took her hand, squeezing it gently.

"We're safe now," he whispered, his voice filled with determination. "Just hang in there, Satima."

Garrus couldn't quite grasp why he felt so compelled to protect Satima. There was something both familiar and unsettling about her, evoking an old instinct from within him. He had a vague sense that he had been in a similar situation before, holding onto someone he had vowed to protect. Yet, the memories were hazy and elusive, like trying to grasp shadows in the dark. The uncertainty gnawed at him, leaving him with an inexplicable need to ensure her safety.

As he sat there, thoughts racing, the door to the small room creaked open, and a asari medic stepped in. The medic's calm demeanor and assured movements instantly put Garrus at ease. He watched intently as the medic began to tend to Satima's wounds, cleaning and dressing them.

The asari nurse hurriedly scanned Satima's injuries, her hands moving with practiced precision as she applied medi-gel and ointments to the deep cuts. He shouldn't have pushed her.

Garrus's eyes narrowed as he watched the asari work. On Omega, mercs and criminals were rampant, and his mistrust ran deep. Aiden observed with barely concealed fascination, drawn to the peculiar aura of the girl before them. The asari produced an injector, lifting the brown sleeve of Satima's jacket. Instantly, Garrus's hand shot out to grip her wrist.
"It's for pain. She has bruised ribs," the asari nurse explained, her voice steady despite the tension.

Garrus exchanged a wary glance with Aiden, who nodded in reassurance. Reluctantly, he released her arm. As the needle pricked Satima's flesh, her eyes flew open with a jolt. In a flash, she had the injector pressed to the asari's throat, her eyes wild with fear. Garrus dropped to his knees beside her.

"Satima, it's alright. No one is going to hurt you," he said, his voice a gentle murmur in the charged atmosphere.

Satima looked at him in surprise, almost as if she had forgotten where she was. Garrus put a gentle hand on her arm, and she let go of the injector. The asari nurse fled the room. Aiden leaned on his leg with a smirk.

"Unpredictable and dangerous," he remarked, his eyes locking onto Satima.

Satima snorted dismissively and turned to the turian. "Where is Jormun?"

Time crawled by as Satima paced the room, her impatience bubbling to the surface. They wasted an hour talking, and she hated every minute of it. Jormun could be lying dead in an alley, picked apart by vorcha while they sat here chatting! She finally settled against a weapons bench, her mind racing as she tried to focus on something constructive.

Garrus sat with Aiden, his eyes darting nervously.

"I need the directive's dogs to leave the docking area so we can get back to her ship," he informed, his voice tight with urgency. His request seemed to fall on deaf ears.

Aiden watched Satima and then shifted his gaze to Garrus. "Strange girl. Even stranger that you're with her. Knowing how badly the directive wants their property back."

Garrus noticed Aiden's curiosity and quickly averted the young turian's gaze back to him. "Have you been having any trouble with the directive lately?" Garrus despised small talk.

"No more than usual." Aiden leaned forward, his eyes narrowing as he observed her closely. "Do you realize how many credits we could get delivering her to them?" he stated, now staring intently her way.

Garrus's irritation flared. He stood up abruptly to block Aiden's view. Aiden scowled but eventually looked away. Garrus couldn't trust him, yet the man was his only chance at escaping the station.

"She is just a girl who owns a ship that I need to leave this station. I want your help, Aiden. Can an old friend request that much?" Garrus asked, his tone sharp.

Aiden smirked, "Old friend?! You haven't aged a day, Garrus. Must be that merc life and all the blue ass you can get." They both chuckled tensely until Aiden continued. "All right, I'll give you help."

Garrus forced a smile, satisfied with his negotiation. Aiden nodded but seemed distracted when Satima nearly burned her hand with a soldering gun. Garrus never liked that look. He knew all too well what it meant.

"So, within the hour?" Garrus loomed over the younger turian, drawing his attention away once more.

Aiden's face went blank. He clicked his mandibles and extended his hand to shake Garrus's.

"Of course." Aiden left the room.

Garrus immediately walked over to a busy Satima, his mind racing.
As she fiddled with a firearm, he approached her cautiously.  "Satima," he started, his voice soft, "are you alright?"

She glanced his way but returned to fixing an abandoned pistol. "Yeah. Just anxious to leave."

Garrus noticed she was struggling to clean a mod she found for her new weapon. He found a hanging cloth and gently took the mod out of her hand.  "You're doing it wrong."

"HEY!", she replied, her eyes flashing with irritation.

Garrus smirked at her. "If you clean this tiny opening, you'll wipe off the grease. Without that, it will lock up and the mod will break. What is this anyway?" He examined it closely, recognizing it as armor-piercing.

"Is it done yet?" she asked impatiently.

Garrus handed her the mod. "Do you know how to re-attach it?"

She snatched it, scoffing, and swiftly reattached the mod to the pistol, cocking it with a satisfied smile. "I do now."

Garrus nodded approvingly. "Good. We're going to need you at your best."

Satima's expression softened slightly. "Thanks, Garrus. I... appreciate it."

He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "We'll get through this, Satima. Together."

She met his gaze, her resolve strengthening. "Let's get moving then. Jormun and Do'ova won't find themselves.""

................................................

Satima noticed how Aiden kept staring at her. The uneasy stares and how he moved his mandibles sent a bad feeling in her gut. If they know who she is to the directive then every hour they waste compromises their escape. She wondered where Jormun had fled to. Surely, he has seen the holo signs of her face displayed all over the station.

Satima worried over his fate. To go to Rannoch and tell his family it was because of her, that he died, filled her with dread.

Garrus paced around the underground bunker. He watched Aiden. Satima could most certainly take care of herself, but an ambush could mean certain capture and death. He'd been there before on that bridge all those years ago.

So Garrus planned. If Aiden made a wrong move, he would cut his throat and toss his body to that pet adjutant still lurking in the dark wards.

Forty minutes passed and Aiden signaled they were ready. Garrus, Aiden, and Satima looked over a holo grid of their plans.
"I have two scouts out there. The Directive has a tight hold on your ship, but I think we can manage a good diversion." Aiden sounded sure and proud of his idea.

While the Talons play urban war with them, Garrus and Satima are to take a back-alley route to the docking hub. When they reach it, they will have a small amount of time to get on. Aiden will release the Haven from the tethers so Satima can override the controls. Once completed they are free to leave.

"We have to find Jormun as soon as Haven is free. If they have him...?", Satima looked at the turian merc concerned.

Garrus nodded in agreement. Satima watched them both. Even though Aiden was younger than Garrus, they acted as equals.

Tension crackled in the air. Satima watched them both, her nerves on edge. Aiden's stare never wavered, his eyes filled with suspicion and something darker. Garrus, though older and more experienced, matched his intensity, the promise of violence evident in his every move. Satima wasn't familiar with turian culture, but she sensed an unspoken challenge between the two.

Aiden kept glancing at Satima with a mix of distrust and animosity, his fingers twitching near his weapon. The whole ride to the outer docks was a silent battle of wills, the only sound the hum of the engine and the occasional click of Aiden's omni-tool. Garrus kept a firm grip on his rifle, ready to spring into action at any moment.

Satima knew one wrong move could mean disaster, and the pressure mounted with each passing second.

As the tension continued to build, the silence in the cramped confines of the vehicle seemed to press in on them. Satima could feel the weight of Aiden's gaze, a mixture of suspicion and something more threatening.

"Why is the directive after you?" he asked suddenly, looking her up and down.

The silence had broken, and Satima reluctantly complied. "Not sure. Maybe you should ask them next time you face the end of their barrel.", she warned.

Aiden turned off the map holo on his omni-tool, his taloned hand reaching for his side arm. "I'm going to ask again: why are they after you?"

"I think you have enough information," Garrus snapped, his voice edged with a threat. "Besides, you're doing ME a favor. Leave it alone, Aiden." His glare was a silent warning.

Aiden gave a wry chuckle, his fingers still dancing over his omni-tool. The tension between them was palpable, like a coiled spring ready to snap.
Satima felt a surge of relief but masked it with a stony expression. Aiden's curiosity was a ticking time bomb, and any mistake could blow their cover. She glanced at Garrus, silently thanking him for intervening, but knowing this was only a brief respite.

"We're almost there," Aiden muttered, his eyes not leaving his device. "Let's just get this over with." His tone was flat, but the underlying menace was unmistakable.

Satima turned her gaze to the shimmering lights of Omega's cityscape as they arrived at their destination. She and Garrus stepped out, with Aiden trailing close behind.

"Over here," Aiden directed, pointing to a door just outside a lively club. The neon lights cast vibrant reflections on the rain-slicked street.
With a few swift punches on the keypad, Aiden unlocked the door, revealing not a dark, foreboding corridor, but a well-lit passage.
"Take this alley," he instructed, "Follow it to the end, and a door on your right will lead you straight to the Haven." He shot a quick glance at Satima.

Garrus extended his taloned hand. "Thank you."

Aiden accepted the handshake, then looked at Satima one last time, clicking his mandible thoughtfully as he watched them disappear down the alley.

"Those eyes are something else," he muttered to himself.

An hour into the new area, they made their way back to the docked Haven. Satima despised the silence. Every shadow seemed to hide a squad of the directive's soldiers, ready to pounce on her.

"So, you're a legend around here?" she asked, desperately trying to distract herself from the creeping dread.

Garrus chuckled, "Not a legend. Just the most wanted. Though that won't be a problem anymore." He checked another corridor. Clear.

Satima's curiosity got the better of her. "Does your visor help you fight?"

Garrus glanced at her, then quickly turned back. "Help with what?"

Satima nearly bumped into him, lost in her thoughts. "Your visor. Does it help with fighting?" she clarified, only now noticing it.

"I suppose," he replied. Her curiosity seemed to amuse him. Garrus glanced back again, deciding to indulge her nervous questions. They paused to check the next alley.

Satima waited for him to continue. "I was a trained marksman a long time ago," he reflected, scanning their surroundings. "When I became an Officer, I was trained in multiple skills. Take your blades, for instance. Did you know that if you strike just right, you can sever a drell's spine or crack a turian's brow plating?"

He sounded almost excited talking about battle.

"Not in that way. No. But I do know how to snip off a fringe or two," she said with a smirk, waving her blade. The small blades were rusty and crude but sharp as a varen's teeth.

Garrus watched her skillful flick of the blade. He remembered Aiden. "Satima, be wary of the unknown. You'll stumble into battles you're not prepared for. I know you're well-trained, but... be vigilant."

She bristled at his words. "Vigilant?" she scoffed. "I'm not a simpering child."

He checked a noise in the alley before turning to her, blocking the way until the point was made clear. "You can fight, I'll give you that. But you're still a kid. Satima, you don't fully grasp what's out there. And bad people gather in places like this, waiting to prey on scared little girls."

"I wasn't scared!" Satima defended herself, thinking of the adjutant. "You don't know what I endured in HIVE!" she glared.

Garrus sighed, irritated. He stared at her, disappointed. "Kid, for now, let me take point, okay?"

Satima nodded, surprised at Garrus's sudden concern for her safety. It felt strange. Garrus, too, felt awkward about his words. He just wanted to keep her safe.

She was skilled, but the vast, terrifying expanse of the galaxy was another matter. She had spent too much time hiding and not enough learning. She was just a kid, as he kept reminding himself.

"We need to find Jormun and Do'ova," he said, walking away.

"Right," she agreed, following close behind.

They reached the end of the door. Garrus used his visor to find any heat signatures. Clear.

"Stay behind me. Use your blades to defend in close quarters. The pistol to repel anyone from getting close." Garrus had a bad feeling. Aiden was up to something. Friendly or not, this galaxy has become darker. And its people are more sinister.

Garrus took point, moving stealthily behind a crate. Ahead, a handful of soldiers loitered, seemingly oblivious to any threat or perhaps just pretending not to notice.

Suddenly, gunfire erupted, sending the soldiers scattering away from Haven. This was their chance. Garrus and Satima sprinted forward, alert for any ambushes as they approached her ship. He signaled Aiden through the comms, and within seconds, the tethers released.

Satima swiftly opened the Haven's cargo doors, her fingers dancing across the holo-panels with practiced ease. Garrus secured the doors, then dashed to the mess at the airlock, sealing the hatch behind him.

The captain sprinted past him, her heart pounding with urgency as she dashed to the cockpit. Her fingers flew over the controls, waiting breathlessly for any sign from Jormun or Do’ova. The comms crackled to life, filling the air with a tense anticipation as she awaited their next move.

Garrus scanned the mess, checking for signs of infiltration. As he turned, he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun before a crushing blow knocked him to the ground. Dazed, he attempted to push himself up, only to be struck again, this time rendering him motionless.

Satima managed to get Haven primed, but they weren't out of danger yet. Two fighter patrols swarmed the outer zone. If they see her ship leaving the docks, they'll shoot them down.

"Garrus, I need you to ask Aiden for turret support," she remembered as the talons called him. No response.

"Garrus?" she said nervously.

Satima got up and carefully eyed the corner of the doorway connecting to the mess, pointing her pistol. All the room doors were closed.
"Garrus," she whispered.

Satima aimed the pistol walking into the mess. Garrus was nowhere in sight. She heard a muffled step on the grating behind her. Satima turned around fast. It was Aiden!

"How did you board my ship? The tethers were locked, and there was no access!" Satima backed herself to the table. Behind it, Garrus lay unconscious.

"Garrus doesn't like to talk much. Selfish bastard," Aiden glared toward the aged soldier. "You know he could've helped secure Omega for the Talons. He just walked off saying, 'This wasn't his war anymore.'"
Aiden got agitated.

Satima walked around the table, aiming her pistol at him, as she tried hitting Garrus with her boot.

"Get up," she muttered through gritted teeth.

Aiden kept talking. "The Directive is looking for you. You're a wanted woman." He stalked her around the mess table, "They're also interested in the people on the station. I've been offered a heavy number of creds for them. But I turned it down."

Aiden stopped, glancing around the interior of the ship. "I don't want wealth," he stared at her. "I want Aria's head decorating MY station. I want complete control of the terminus systems. All under the name of the Talons."

"You're insane," Satima replied.

Aiden laughed, "It's called ambition." He leaned over the table with a menacing glare. "Living amid the reaper's rule has taught me one thing." Aiden leered, as his mandibles widened into a predatory grin. "You take what you want before someone else takes it from you."

Satima fired rapidly, her shots echoing in the confined space. Aiden barely managed to dodge. He lunged at her, seizing the pistol and hurling it across the floor.

She desperately attempted to deflect his punch, but Aiden's force sent her sprawling face down. Gritting her teeth, Satima crawled toward the discarded weapon, only to feel a sharp yank on her legs as Aiden dragged her back. She twisted with fierce determination, delivering a powerful kick to his face with her boot, knocking him to the ground.

Satima reached for the pistol, but Aiden's boot slammed down on her hand, eliciting a sharp cry of pain from her. "I don't want to hurt you, but I will if I need to!" he growled, yanking her up by her hair, their faces inches apart.

Satima spits at his face, causing his anger to slam her hard on the grated floor. Her nose a bloodied mess as she coughs against the pain. Aiden straddled her while Satima fought with all her strength. "Don't struggle.", he warned.

With a swift motion, Satima struck Aiden's throat with her right hand. He stumbled back, choking and gasping for air.

"HEY!" a voice bellowed.

Aiden snapped his head up to see Jormun standing at the entrance, holding his menacing shotgun, Ish.

"How did you get on board?!" Aiden shouted, his surprise evident.

"I let him in," Garrus said, delivering a powerful kick to Aiden, sending him sprawling away from Satima. She quickly rose to her feet, crouching into an attack position, her eyes blazing with determination.

Do'ova stumbled in, hugging the hull walls while the fight continued. The talon merc held his side in pain, standing quickly. "Damn you, Garrus! Your self-righteous bullshit is preventing your people from getting a foothold back in this galaxy!" Aiden sounded desperate as he backed away in fear.
Garrus advanced with a predatory focus, his mandibles tightening, "This isn't about me, Aiden. It's about you trying to play god over the lives of so many."

Aiden's eyes darted between his adversaries, calculating his dwindling options. "You don't understand! We need power, control, to survive!"
Jormun cocked his shotgun, the metallic click echoing ominously in the tension-filled room. "Your time's up, Aiden."

Garrus smirked putting his left boot on the bench, leaning on his knee as he stared at Aiden.
"You're not "our people". I think the Talons will get along fine without you.", he glared.

Jormun's shotgun roared, sending Aiden crashing to the ground, blue blood seeping from the fresh wound in his chest.

With a feral roar, Satima charged at Aiden, their bodies colliding with a force that sent him sprawling onto the floor. She straddled him, pulled out the cruel rusty blade, and jammed it into Aiden's eye, while Jormun stood back stunned.

Do'ova's stomach churned with nausea. She glanced away, desperately trying to focus on anything other than the grisly scene unfolding before her eyes.

Aiden screamed in agony as Satima dug deeper into his skull and lifted the bloody piece of viscera off. Cerulean blood splattered over them both.
"Don't struggle!", she shouted, and with one quick strike, ended him.
Satima stared ahead, panting and fuming in anger. She had been bested by this monster and had almost lost her freedom and ship to him. Blood splattered her face as she lifted the blade, her hands trembling with the intensity of the moment. Jormun dropped his shotgun in disbelief, his eyes wide and unblinking.

He's never seen her this violent before. Satima slowly stood up, her eyes gleaming with a savage satisfaction. The room seemed to pulse with the raw energy of her fury. Jormun's heart pounded in his chest as he watched her, the tension in the air thick and suffocating.

He's never seen her this violent before. Satima slowly stood up, her eyes gleaming with a savage satisfaction. The room seemed to pulse with the raw energy of her fury. Jormun's heart pounded in his chest as he watched her, the tension in the air thick and suffocating.

He cautiously approached her, his hand trembling as he reached out. Satima, caught in the throes of her fury, reacted instinctively, brandishing the blood-soaked blade toward his chest.

Her eyes, wild and untamed, bore into him, and Jormun's heart pounded as he began to plead, desperation evident in his voice.

"It's me! I would never hurt you!" Jormun's voice trembled with urgency. Satima's breath steadied, and her fierce gaze softened as she recognized him. The blood-soaked blade slipped from her grasp, clattering to the floor. Jormun, still shaken, stepped back, his heart racing as he cautiously made his way towards the engine room.

"I... I have to get Haven ready for FTL," he stammered, darting past her in a desperate sprint.

Do'ova stared at her captain, her mind racing with questions. Is Satima some kind of killer? And what Prax said, about a demand. Did Satima know this whole time that her father was alive? Dural missing and her other family and friends are nowhere to be seen. Her stomach churned with uncertainty and fear.

The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the distant hum of the ship's engines. Do'ova felt a wave of nausea wash over her as she glanced at the lifeless body of Aiden, the cerulean blood still glistening under the dim lights. She couldn't reconcile the image of her fierce, determined captain with the brutal scene she had just witnessed.

Garrus watched in alarm, every muscle tensed, his instincts screaming to intervene, yet paralyzed by the sheer brutality unfolding before him. The sight of Satima, once a composed young woman, now a wild and feral force of nature, left him in a state of disbelief. The savagery she displayed was unlike anything he had ever seen, and a chill ran down his spine as he realized the extent of her transformation.

Satima's eyes locked onto the blood pooling around Aiden's head. "Did I... do this?" she whispered, her voice trembling. Her gaze fell to her blood-stained hands, the reality of her actions crashing down on her. She looked at Garrus, her expression a mixture of shock and horror, before abruptly bolting towards the lavatory, the weight of what she had done too much to bear.

Garrus walked to the body, his heart hammering in his chest. New, unsettling feelings emerged. He felt both impressed and deeply worried. Satima had acted with more than just professional skill; she had been uncaged, primal, and seemed to revel in the brutality. The realization hit him hard—whatever HIVE had done to her had left a permanent, dangerous imprint of a serial nature. His mind raced as he grappled with the implications of this transformation.

A sound of alarms blared from Omega. Garrus sprinted to the piloting chair, his mind racing. He quickly took control of the ship and navigated it back out into space, using a relay to escape their current location. This was another close call. How long will this borrowed time last before the Directive catches up?

Garrus set the autopilot, his thoughts still on Satima. He needed to check in on her, to understand the depths of her transformation and ensure she was stable. The memory of her savage actions replayed in his mind, a stark reminder of the unpredictable nature of their situation. He stood up and made his way towards the lavatory, his heart heavy with concern and uncertainty.

Jormun saw to Do'ova's injury. She rested, though uneasily, in her quarters.

Spirits. He could hear Satima's frantic mumbling from the coms he switched on. Hesitating, he sat up, walked to the lavatory, and knocked on the door. Garrus felt a wave of uncertainty clutching at his chest.

Satima heard him outside the door, rocking herself with the same desperation as always. She abruptly stopped crying, the hot, stinging tears beginning to dry on her cheeks, making her feel like a lost child in a woman's body.

After taking a deep breath, Garrus began to speak. "Do you need anything?"

"Go away," she snapped.

Garrus opened the door to find Satima looking disoriented, sitting cross-legged on the floor. He cleared his throat and walked in, kneeling to face her.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, his voice more sincere than before.

She shook her head, her eyes fixed on the lines of the tiled floor.
Garrus glanced back at the lifeless body of Aiden. "I see you took my advice," he chuckled nervously.

She ignored him.

Garrus leaned back. Smooth. Complement her on acting like a crazed maniac. Satima's eyes pierced through him, unwavering. Spirits.

"Look, Satima. You had every right to defend yourself. Like you've done before with Directive soldiers, or with anyone else, I'm assuming." He couldn't give her the answers to the cruelty of this universe.

She swallowed her tears, opening her mouth to speak. Garrus felt his pulse quicken, unsure of what was coming next. She caught him off guard.

"I'm not afraid of that," she began, her voice trembling. "I don't want to be Her." Satima swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper. "I don't want to be a killer." She wrung her hands nervously, a small, bitter laugh escaping her lips.

"Reaper trained me to kill." She glanced away, her face flush with shame. "But… she helped me get away from them. For a time."

Garrus saw Jormun at the corner of his eye. He motioned for him to stay where he was. Satima did not notice and proceeded to talk uninterrupted.
Satima stared up at the hull wall, her breath shallow, her eyes clenched shut. "Sometimes when I take a life, I can't feel anything. It's like this empty shadow that's feeding off my mind, filling it with thoughts I don't want."

Garrus leaned against the wall, feeling the weight of her words. She likes it. Complain all she wants, but Satima gets a small thrill from it. It's disturbing to him but understandable. Surviving out here in this hell the reapers created will make anyone lose hold of reality. What's right. What's wrong. A grey area. And he hates grey.

"While fleeing from merc hunters, I came across a batarian who saved my life by gunning them down. His name was Borlask. He took me in, and after a few weeks, brought me to his home—an old, forgotten Cerberus base. Borlask taught me the ways of the smuggling trade, and on my eighteenth birthday, he gave me Haven," she said with a faint smile, reminiscing about the past.

Garrus nodded and motioned for Jormun to come in. Odd for a batarian to take in a stranger, let alone defend one. He stepped away to leave them alone. Satima needed someone who cared for her to hear this and to comfort her.

"Ancestors, Satima," Jormun sat on his knees in front of her. "It must be hard to control what they did to you."

She looked at him and gently touched his hand, "I'm so sorry for earlier. I promise I will never hurt you, or Do'ova." She looked up to Garrus. "Or you, even if you piss me off sometimes."

Garrus shared a light laugh between them.

Satima suddenly felt so different than before. All these years she was taught to repress her feelings, bury her emotions, and take every bit of pain. Turning it into a weapon against others. That was the Reaper way. But Jormun changed that. He cared for her and never hurt her.

Borlask looked after her and mentored her. She thought about Garrus. How kind he was to her, unflinching and pondering about his nightmare a day ago.

Then she remembered Do'ova. Her calm expression died away quickly. "Shit! D! Is she okay? Where is she?" Satima yelled in panic.

Jormun reassured her, "She's recovering in her quarters. D is fine. But… we need to talk. After you feel better from earlier, yourself."

She nodded. Hours passed by slowly in the stale ship called Haven. A dark quiet fell into the atmosphere.

Satima remained seated, her thoughts heavy with worry and guilt. The silence that had once comforted her now felt oppressive. She knew she needed to check on Do'ova, to see for herself that her friend was truly okay. But she also knew that Jormun was right; she needed to face her own turmoil before she could be of any help to anyone else.

Garrus dragged the dead Aiden to the airlock and closed the door between them. He pressed a panel watching the body get sucked into space.

"Goodbye Aiden, you depraved son of a bitch.", he said with disdain, spitting to the side of the airlock at the turians name in insult.

A calm Satima entered the bay area. She spotted Garrus returning from the airlock hatch, his expression unreadable. One question burned in her mind, and she needed an answer. She stood at the doorway, her heart pounding, the question lingering in her dark teal eyes.

"The nightmare you had in the engine room; who were you trying to get away from?" she asked, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and determination.

Garrus looked away, his jaw tensing as the memory surged back. He walked forward, brushing past her in the doorway, the tension palpable.
"No one," he answered, his voice barely above a whisper, laden with pain.
She watched him leave, the sadness in his voice cutting through her like a knife.

Safely away from the terminus systems, Satima resumed control of the Haven, her mind still haunted by Garrus' cryptic response.

She hadn't slept in hours. Their run-in on Omega gave her plenty of new nightmares. She navigated Haven as far away as she could from that system. Time had passed and she eventually fell asleep at the controls.
Comms echoed on, "We're going to need to refuel soon. Also, running out of provisions." Jormun's voice woke Satima from nodding off at the control panel. She widened her eyes to the holo-grid before her.

"Yeah... looks like we're in luck. There's a colony nearby.", her head ached from exhaustion.

She couldn't let herself sleep until they were clear of the Directive. But how far can she go before she ends up cornered?

The weight of responsibility bore down heavily on her shoulders, mingling with the fatigue that clouded her mind. She knew too well that desperation could drive the Directive to make irrational, unpredictable decisions. The clock was ticking, and she needed to act swiftly.
"Jormun, set a course for the colony," she ordered, her voice steady despite the turmoil churning within her.

"Already on it," he replied, his fingers dancing over the controls.
Satima leaned back in her chair, allowing herself a brief moment of reprieve as the familiar hum of the ship's engines filled the cockpit. Her thoughts drifted to Do'ova, hoping her friend was truly recovering. She also found herself thinking about Garrus, his haunted eyes, and the unspoken pain they both carried.

As the Haven approached the colony, Satima's mind sharpened with renewed vigilance. They would need to refuel, resupply, and be on their way before the Directive caught wind of their location. The stakes were higher than ever, and failure was not an option.

The colony came into view, a beacon of hope amidst the vastness of space. Satima took a deep breath, determination settling over her like armor. She would not let exhaustion or fear deter her. They would survive, no matter the cost. 

Chapter Text

Satima rubbed her eyes as she yawned, still heavy from the lack of sleep. She brought up the NAV tools, typed the coordinates, and turned on the comms for the entire ship. "Listen up, we're making a stop at Zynar. Haven needs fuel and I'm well aware there isn't enough food for our small group," she spoke loudly over the comms.

Garrus had finished with the lock codes on the fighter. The time spent on Zynar would give him the chance to quietly leave. He had other plans, ones that didn't involve the crew of Haven. He hoped to slip away unnoticed, to pursue his own path.

Do'ova quietly watched from the entryway. Her thoughts were shattered into many images. One, of her dead father—the horrors he had suffered from the pact's forced labor in the bowels of Omega. Her cousins; wherever they may be, missing or worse. And all that Prax said about his demands being unanswered. Would her captain betray their trust? She kept in mind what that turian was doing with the scouter's vessel. Maybe he could help her find them and leave Haven? Leave her captain. For good.

As they passed the atmosphere and turned in orbit, they landed outside the dusty colony. The docks were old, constantly in repair, but to many, it was home. The crew disembarked, each with their own thoughts and plans. The colony of Zynar awaited them, a place of both hope and uncertainty.

Zynar, once a small battleground between the turian and reaper forces, had become a turian colony after the harvest twenty years ago. Now, it was one of the few planets that could support dextro life. The crew of Haven knew the risks but also the necessities that drove them to this barren world.

As they stepped onto the docks, the air was thick with dust, and the scent of machinery and metal filled their lungs. Satima took a deep breath, steeling herself for the tasks ahead. She knew they needed to refuel and restock provisions, but there was an underlying tension she couldn't shake.

Garrus, with his mind set on departure, observed the surroundings. He knew this was his chance to break away, to find his own path. He hoped Do'ova wouldn't notice his intentions, but she was more perceptive than he realized.

Do'ova, with her mind on her lost family and the betrayal she feared, kept a close eye on Garrus. She wondered if he could be the key to her escape, to finding her cousins and leaving the pain of the past behind. But trust was a fragile thing, and she wasn't sure she could afford to place it in anyone.

The colony bustled with activity, a mix of turian settlers and other species that had found a place in this harsh world. The crew of Haven blended into the crowd, each taking steps towards their own goals. The future was uncertain, but for now, Zynar was their refuge.

The dusty colony with its old docks and sense of resilience, held more than just fuel and provisions. It held the hopes, fears, and dreams of those who called it home and those who sought passage through its gates. The crew of Haven would soon discover that this stop was not just a necessity but a turning point in their journey.

Garrus waited on the cargo deck, while the hatch was slowly opening. He had been ready to leave, following his plan, when Satima caught up with him.

She quickly slid her small arms through the jacket sleeves she seemed to favor. Jormun stepped behind in his deep purple quarian suit.

Do'ova nervously peaked at the open landing field, staying to the side of the rampway. The dust-filled wind blew across the ground with fury. "This sand could lodge into our thruster's shafts. I should close them temporarily. Captain, we are safe enough to shut down the Haven's emergency liftoff, right?

The captain nodded, as her salarian friend hurried outside.

Satima glanced towards the turian with a weary expression. "Don't wander off, I'm going to need help loading all the crates.", she walked past him to meet with Jormun, letting out a wide yawn.

Garrus couldn't help but notice Satima's peculiar features once again. What kind of species was she? The thought gnawed at him. Did the directive find her, or was she some sort of creation? Her appearance was out of the ordinary, especially her eyes—so disconcertingly familiar, yet he couldn't place them. A humanoid body of a young girl, but those eyes... they stirred something deep within him, a vague memory he couldn't quite grasp. Such mysteries seemed to come and go, yet this one lingered, refusing to be dismissed.

He nodded at her request, while she led Jormun away from the shuttle bay. With all his concealed weapons packed Garrus just realized that he complied with orders from a kid. She could be a natural leader if she wasn't so unpredictably violent. Either way, he couldn't quite figure her out.

Garrus didn't have time to bother with this one anymore. He cared enough to see her and the crew safely on another planet, but his focus remained steadfast on his ultimate mission. He had a contract to fulfill: eliminate Reaper and avenge the spirit of Shepard. Every fiber of his being was driven by this goal, and he would let nothing deter him from achieving it.

Satima didn't trust Garrus. Even though he had been kind to her, there was something about his mysterious past and questionable acquaintances that drove her skepticism about him. His actions always seemed to benefit only himself. She couldn't shake the feeling that his benevolence was a facade.

Every time she looked into his eyes, she saw a shadow of secrets lurking behind his charming smile. According to the dead Aiden, he was a selfish bastard, willing to sacrifice anything or anyone for his gain.

Satima remembered Aiden's last words vividly. Her instincts screamed at her to be cautious, to not let her guard down around him. Trusting Garrus, she decided, could be a grave mistake, one she wasn't willing to make.

But as she reflected on the turian's arrival and stay, Satima couldn't help but chuckle at the memory of her early days. She had learned to be selfish quickly, and with the crafty guidance of Borlask, she had become quite adept at it. Then the fateful first trip to Omega happened.

She could still picture the fierce determination in Jormun's eyes as he stood guard over a terrified salarian family. The sudden chaos of the fight was vivid in her mind—Jormun, unflinching, taking out a blood pact mercenary with a single, well-aimed shotgun blast. Satima had felt a surge of urgency as she saw more brutish figures closing in.

Without a second thought, she had rushed to their aid, her heart pounding with the adrenaline. Leading them back to Haven, she had hastily shepherded them onto a larger vessel bound for the Far Rim. But Jormun had refused to leave. He had made it clear that he couldn't return as a murderer, even if it was in self-defense. Satima's protests had fallen on deaf ears, his resolve unshakable.

Over time, she had begun to see Jormun as more than a friend. Satima could tell he felt the same way. The stolen glances, the caring attitude, and his constant desire to shield her from harm spoke volumes. Maybe, she thought, she should see where this could lead and reach out to him.

Her thoughts were scattered when Do'ova moved about the cargo bay to close hatches from the sandy wind. Satima watched her footsteps on the shifting dirt. Her heart sank deep, filling her with complete dread over that girl. She made Do'ova stay for her safety. But, at what cost? Jormun hasn't said a word about what happened to them.

Why was Do'ova injured? What or who, came after them?

Satima's mind raced with unanswered questions. She clenched her fists, feeling the weight of responsibility pressing heavily on her shoulders. She had to find out the truth, not just for Do'ova's sake, but for the safety of the entire crew. She couldn't afford to let her guard down, not now, not ever.

Glancing back at the bustling colony, she felt a mix of determination and fear. The dusty winds seemed to whisper secrets, and she knew that Zynar held more mysteries than answers. She took a deep breath, resolving to uncover the truth behind Do'ova's injuries and the threats that loomed over them.

Satima's mind was a whirlwind of doubt and suspicion. She felt the weight of Reaper's words pressing down on her, a constant reminder of the darkness that seemed to follow her every step. Trust was a luxury she couldn't afford, not with enemies lurking in every shadow.

She watched as Jormun moved towards the fueling ports, his movements precise and purposeful. There was a comfort in his presence, a reliability she had come to depend on, yet she couldn't shake the nagging fear that even he might one day turn against her.

Garrus, on the other hand, was an enigma. His motives were shrouded in mystery, and his loyalty seemed precarious at best. She could feel his eyes on her, studying her, as if trying to decipher her every thought. It set her on edge, but she couldn't afford to show any weakness.

Taking a deep breath, Satima made her way through the bustling markets. The cacophony of voices and the vibrant displays of goods were a stark contrast to the turmoil within her. She needed to focus on the task at hand—getting provisions for the journey ahead.

As she passed by stalls filled with exotic fruits, spices, and trinkets, her thoughts kept drifting back to the crew. Each member had their own secrets, their own pasts that intertwined with hers in ways she couldn't fully understand. They were all bound by a fragile thread, and any misstep could unravel everything.

Finally, she reached a stand selling prepared meals and selected a variety of dishes to bring back to the ship. The vendor, an elderly woman with kind eyes, smiled warmly as she wrapped up the food.

"Traveling far?" the woman asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.
Satima hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yes, always on the move."

"Take care out there," the vendor said, handing over the parcels. "The stars are full of dangers, but there's also light to be found if you know where to look."

Satima forced a smile and thanked the woman before heading back towards the dock. The words lingered in her mind, a faint glimmer of hope amidst the shadows of doubt.

As she approached the platform, she saw Garrus still lingering behind, his gaze fixed on her. She met his eyes, a silent challenge passing between them. In this uncertain galaxy, trust was a gamble, and Satima knew she had to keep her wits about her if she was to navigate the treacherous path ahead.

Jormun wondered if she was okay after what Aiden tried in selling her out to the directive. In a colony, full of turians? That'll work out great.

Satima followed Jormun to the fuel port. Passing a few buildings with various provisions with outgoing and incoming goods. Garrus stopped, his visor pinged with a red dot, and then a small radar opened on the screen. Satima observed as they stood in front of the warehouse. A large building that had a landing zone on top for smaller hover trucks. She could see plenty of light coming from the many windows.

Jormun left inside the refueling station, leaving Satima with a brief moment to gather her thoughts. She couldn't shake the suspicion that had been gnawing at her. The colony's atmosphere, though bustling with activity, felt heavy with unseen threats. The memory of Aiden's betrayal was still fresh, and it took all her resolve to keep the fear at bay.

Satima walked up to Garrus, curious about his sudden halt in front of the building. "Why did you stop here?" she asked, watching him stare.
She waited to see if he'd try to slip away unnoticed. He didn't say anything.

"Did you hear me?" she waved a hand in front of his face.

Garrus gave her an angry side-glance, then grabbed her hand and put it down. He faced her. "Stay put," he said sternly. His visor pinged loudly, sending a signal to his omni-tool.

Satima folded her arms in irritation. "Why?" she glared.

"STAY!" he commanded, pointing a taloned finger at her, his turian expression sharp and unyielding.

Satima took a deep, irritated breath. "Fine," she exhaled, her voice tight with frustration. "I'll wait out here, but if you're not back in ten minutes..." She leveled him with a hard stare, her bright teal eyes almost glowing in the dimming light of sunset.

Garrus tilted his head, a smirk playing on his face. "You certainly are a demanding little girl," he mocked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
As he walked away, disappearing into the building, Satima fumed. If he called her "little girl" one more time, she swore she would make him regret it.

As the doors closed behind him, she paced back and forth in front of the building, her mind racing with possibilities. Why was Garrus so secretive? What was inside that building? The minutes ticked by slowly, each second amplifying her anxiety. She glanced at her omni-tool, counting down the time since he had entered.

Satima sat on a crate, her fingers drumming rhythmically against the rough wood as she watched the turian dock workers go about their mundane tasks. The repetitive clanking of metal and the hum of machinery filled the air. She couldn't help but sigh at the sheer monotony of it all. Space was her playground, not this tedious back-and-forth of cargo.

She kicked a few pebbles, feeling the frustration build up with every passing minute. "Just like a stubborn kid to keep me waiting," she muttered, rolling her eyes. Her patience was wearing thin, every second ticking louder in her head. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she spotted Garrus emerging from the building, his grip firm on the arm of a smaller turian boy.

With a mix of curiosity and annoyance, Satima stood up, her eyes narrowing as she prepared to confront whatever new complication Garrus had dragged out this time.

He was maybe in his early teens and had the exact same blue clan markings as Garrus. Satima laughed as the boy struggled, ending up falling face down in the dirt. Garrus quickly stepped forward, concern etched on his face as he helped the kid up.

"Where's your mother?" he spoke in a gentle yet authoritative tone.

The turian boy glared at Garrus, struggling to stand. "The hell you care!" he spat.

Garrus shook his head in disappointment, his eyes softening with concern as he yanked the kid up to a standing position. The boy looked at Satima with a quick glance. That same curious stare she'd seen plenty of times before.

"Caius, you need to go home," Garrus said, brushing the dirt off the boy's back with a stern yet gentle hand.

Caius stepped back defiantly. "I can take care of myself! I'm not a kid!" he retorted, his voice filled with youthful defiance.

Satima could sense the tension and decided to give them some space, but Caius’s next outburst stopped her in her tracks.

"Who is she?" he demanded, trying to divert the conversation.
Satima turned with an amused smile, her curiosity piqued. As she approached Caius, the boy instinctively retreated, bumping into Garrus. His eyes darted between them, a mix of confusion and fear evident on his face.

"I'm the Captain," she said coolly, her voice carrying an authority that left no room for argument. Standing face to face with Caius, Satima's confident grin only deepened, making it clear who was in charge. Despite his height advantage, Caius faltered under her unwavering gaze, feeling the weight of her unspoken challenge.

The boy let out a sigh of relief when she walked away. Garrus dragged Caius, who shouted his discontent loudly. Their angry shouts echoed through the alley they traveled down, creating a tense and volatile atmosphere.

Satima shook her head and wandered around the bustling markets, her eyes darting around, cautious of any prying eyes or whispers. The turians, it seemed, were more preoccupied with their daily survival. A disciplined, orderly bunch of uptight refugees. She ordered crates of dextro and various other provisions for the Haven's cargo bay. Moments later, Garrus caught up with her, dragging Caius in tow.

"What the hell is he doing here?" she demanded, her voice edged with annoyance. "I thought his mother was coming?"

"I need to drop him off," Garrus replied, maintaining a firm grip on the squirming boy's arm.

She shook her head in exasperation. "Absolutely not! My ship is not a babysitting service!"

Garrus shifted his stance on the sandy ground, letting out a heavy sigh. "Look, I know you don't need extra baggage tagging along right now, but there isn't any other way for me to do this."

With a grudging glare, she conceded. "Your family, your responsibility. If I catch him messing up anything on my ship..."

Garrus sighed in frustration. "He won't. I'll keep him with me the whole time."

Satima leaned back, arms folded, piercing the pair with her gaze. "Who is he? Your kid?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Garrus's stunned expression caught Satima off guard. "Spirits, no! He's my sister's kid." He looked torn between anger and embarrassment.

Satima shook her head once more. "Fine... just my luck. Stuck babysitting a bunch of turians," she muttered under her breath. Caius glanced at Garrus, who stood equally perturbed.

"Get to the ship, Haven. It's docked and old, you can't miss it," Garrus instructed as Satima disappeared inside the refueling station. Pulling Caius closer, he added, "There's a salarian named Do'ova. Nervous kid, jumpy. Introduce yourself before running up the ramp. This crew has seen hell and they aren't up for any attitude. You read me?"

"But..." the boy stammered.

Garrus couldn't risk his sister's son roaming around unsupervised. When the boy didn't follow his instructions, an uglier side emerged. He grabbed Caius's carapace and gave him a threatening stare. "I said, GET. TO. THE SHIP... NOW, CAIUS!" he roared.

Caius stumbled backward but quickly regained his footing, obeying his uncle's command. Frustrated that his plans were delayed by his nephew's interference, Garrus decided to bide his time.

After dropping off Caius with Sol, he'd resume his plan. Unless Satima caught him first.

Haven-Docked

As Caius trudged towards the ship, a whirlwind of emotions churned inside him. He had never been this far from his family, and the prospect of being surrounded by strangers—especially the intimidating crew of the Haven—was unnerving. Yet, he couldn't afford to show weakness. Not now.

Garrus, meanwhile, watched his nephew disappear into the distance. He couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled over him since arriving at this godforsaken settlement. He had intended to keep his family out of harm's way, but it seemed fate had other plans.

As Caius approached the Haven, he spotted a figure stumbling around the long fueling hoses. It was Do'ova, the nervous salarian Garrus had mentioned. She seemed preoccupied, her movements hurried and erratic. Intrigued, Caius quickened his pace, eager to introduce himself and find out more about his new temporary home.

Do'ova glanced up as Caius approached, her eyes widening with a mix of surprise and suspicion. She had just finished gathering the current ship data for Jormun to evaluate and was in no mood for interruptions. Yet, seeing the young turian standing before her, she couldn't help but feel a pang of empathy.

"Are you Do'ova?" Caius asked, his voice steady despite the nervous flutter in his chest.

"Yes," she replied curtly, wiping the grease off her hands. "And you must be Caius. Garrus told me you'd be joining us."

Caius nodded, shifting his weight awkwardly. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Do'ova hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Follow me. There's plenty to do around here."

As they made their way through the short corridor, Do'ova explained the ins and outs of the ship. She pointed out the various stations and introduced Caius to a few other crew members they encountered along the way. Despite her initial irritation, she found herself warming up to the boy, impressed by his eagerness to learn.

They reached the pilot chair, where Do'ova had been attempting to call Jen's number. As she sat down, she sighed in frustration. "No luck," she muttered, more to herself than to Caius. "Maybe if I used the ship's long-range comms, there could be a chance to find the last known location."
Caius watched her, sensing the depth of her concern. "Who are you trying to reach?" he asked gently.

"Someone important," she replied, her voice tinged with sadness. "But it's complicated."

Before Caius could press further, Do'ova's attention was drawn to a new message notification on the captain's personal log. Intrigued, she broke into the small quarters and began scrolling through the messages. Caius followed hesitantly, unsure if he should be witnessing this.

After a few moments of sifting through junk mail and unanswered texts, Do'ova found what she was looking for. It was a video call from Prax, a name that sent a shiver down her spine. She opened it, her heart pounding in her chest.

Prax stood front and center with a sinister smirk on his face. Her father, kneeling beside him, looked lifeless and defeated. "I want an answer by the next hour. Or Durlin and his sister are shipped off to the mines," Prax's voice echoed ominously before the call abruptly ended.

Do'ova closed the holo call, her hands trembling with rage. Satima knew. Her captain knew and hadn't said a word or taken her home. She vowed to make her answer, by her father's grave, Satima would answer.

Determined, Do'ova turned to Caius, her eyes blazing with newfound resolve. "I have work to do.", she stood, darting past a confused boy.

As Do'ova stormed off, Caius was left standing in the small quarters, feeling a mixture of confusion and concern.

Moments later, Jormun noticed Satima striding purposefully towards the port. Her expression was more sour than usual. He had always hoped he could be the reason to bring a smile to her face, but today, she seemed particularly upset.

Satima came to a sudden halt in front of him, her eyes darting around as if searching for an outlet for her frustration. "Hey Jormun, guess what?" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, finally locking those dagger-like eyes on him.

Afraid of the answer, Jormun hesitated before asking, "What happened?"
Satima crossed her arms and let out a bitter laugh. "Garrus has a nephew. That nephew was here and is now hitching a ride with us. Isn't that just wonderful?" Her cranky attitude was drawing curious glances from the nearby workers.

Jormun gently placed his hand on her arm, guiding her away from the crowd. One Garrus was enough, but two of them on the same ship? And a younger one at that! How was he supposed to deal with this?

"So, how old is he?" he asked, swallowing nervously.

Satima scowled. "A damn teenager. I hate teenagers!"

Jormun couldn't help but burst into laughter. Satima's face snapped towards him in anger. "What's so damn funny?"

He stopped to catch his breath, feeling a mix of relief and amusement. "You know, you were a teenager once yourself," he teased, his voice smooth with that charming accent.

Her heart fluttered at his words, her anger momentarily forgotten. Several thoughts of them alone together in her quarters filled her with warmth. She shook her head, trying to clear it.

Satima playfully slapped his shoulder. "Quit screwing around. We've got a long, annoying ride ahead of us."

Jormun's laughter was contagious, and soon Satima found herself smiling despite her irritation.

Haven thrummed to life, thrusters emitting their blue heat in the air. After liftoff and space insertion, Satima went to see Caius, to put out some ground rules while he was a "guest" on her ship.

Garrus had kept him in sight on the cargo level. He worked in the fighter more often, a repetitive hobby that was becoming suspicious to Satima. Caius had been made to clean air filters.

The young turian sat on the metal grated floor grumbling while performing the duties his uncle forced him to do. He looked at Satima as she stood in place watching him.

"What do you want?", he argued. His voice sounded a little deeper.
Satima folded her arms with a cross glare, "To remind you who is in charge of this ship!"

Caius furrowed his plated brow, continuing the cleaning. "So? I can do what I want!", he tried to growl menacingly but was cut off as Garrus emerged from the vessel. He eyed the boy, who quickly shut his mouth.
"Caius isn't going anywhere without my say and certainly not without me. He's not going to be any trouble, Satima. I promise," Garrus looked tired as he reassured the young Captain.

Satima unfolded her arms, caught herself feeling less agitated. "Well, see that you do," she quickly walked off.

As she strode down the narrow corridor, Satima couldn't help but feel the weight of command pressing on her shoulders. The ship's hum was a constant reminder of her responsibilities.

Reaching her quarters, Satima closed the door behind her and let out a long sigh. She could still hear Jormun's laughter echoing in her mind, a fleeting moment of levity in an otherwise challenging day. She sat down at her desk, pulling up the ship's logs and reviewing the latest reports.

The data scrolled past, but her thoughts kept drifting back to the sudden arrival of Caius and the possible disruptions he might cause.

Just as she settled into her work, a soft chime alerted her to an incoming message. She tapped the console, and Jormun's face appeared on the screen, his expression a mix of concern and mischief. "Satima, you alright?" he asked, his voice soothing.

She managed a small smile. "Just dealing with the usual chaos. What about you?"

Jormun chuckled. "Oh, you know, keeping an eye on things. Just wanted to check in on you. We all need a little support now and then."

Satima's heart warmed at his words. "Thanks, Jormun. I appreciate it."

"Anytime," he replied. "Catch you later, Satima."

As the screen went dark, Satima felt a renewed sense of determination. She might be facing challenges, but she wasn't alone. With a deep breath, she returned to her work, ready to face whatever came next.

Do'ova is in turmoil as she paces in circles within her small room on the deck quarters. Her mind replays the impending confrontation with the captain, cycling through scenarios filled with shouting, cursing, and even physical aggression. The intensity of her emotions is palpable as she considers resorting to violence, including kicking the captain, a thought that underscores her deep-seated anger and frustration.

The relentless vibrations and thrum of the ship pull her thoughts back to a distant, idyllic past on a lush planet with warm tropical climates and verdant fields. This serene memory is quickly shattered by the haunting recollection of the planet's destruction, a blaze of death and ash that still burns in her mind.

Her father, from a unique family, lived in a small science station dominated by Salarians and occasionally asari. This backdrop of diversity and intelligence shaped her early years. Her parents were unconventional, defying social norms by choosing to have her, and her father took pride in welcoming the changes for a brighter galaxy.

Even amidst her anguish, Do'ova smiles at the memories of her playful cousins, whose laughter and pranks brought light to their station life. Their practice of STG conditioning on neighbors was a source of both amusement and annoyance.

Durlin and his sister were also part of her special circle, their family having fled the Directive's control. The fear and uncertainty of that time are etched in her memory, but she remembers trying to be brave, inspired by the courage of Durlin, Jen, and her mother, who fought off mercenaries in a doomed attempt to assist a local colony.

The painful memories she tries to shake off are a burden Salarians uniquely bear, unable to forget even the smallest details. The vivid image of her mother's blood pooling like a green shadow and her father's empty eyes haunt her thoughts.

Captain Satima's actions have left Do'ova feeling betrayed and confused. The captain's lies and betrayal, mixed with moments of salvation, have created a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within her. This internal conflict is tearing Do'ova apart, leaving her in a state of profound distress and uncertainty.

Jormun entered the cockpit, as Satima settled back into the pilot's chair. He took a seat next to her while she was busy overlooking the NAV specs and long-term range scans. Something pinged for a few seconds off a comm buoy, but it came from the colony.

Satima stretched her back, completing a scan. "Yes, Jormun?" she replied to his stare.

His thoughts once again leaned to earlier on Digeris. "Do you ever want to rest?" he asked her.

Satima looked out into the black of space. Bright stars twinkled in the distance, reflecting in her teal eyes.

She sighed, "If I'm ever allowed to." Satima glanced his way.
Jormun put a three-fingered hand on her shoulder. He rubbed the tense muscle as Satima leaned into his touch, and gently caressed her face with his free hand, taking care around her lips.

Satima parted them eagerly to breathe deeply into this moment of intimacy.

"Satima," Jormun began, his voice barely above a whisper, "I want to be more than just your friend. I want to share these moments with you, to be close to you in every way."

His words hung in the air, heavy with longing. Satima's heart raced as she felt the earnest emotion in his touch and his voice. She turned slightly, meeting his gaze, and saw the depth of his feelings reflected in his eyes.

"Jormun," she murmured, "I've felt the same, but I wasn't sure if it was mutual."

"It is," he assured her, his thumb gently brushing across her cheek. "More than you know."

Satima's heart raced as she leaned into the tender touch of Jormun, savoring the earnest emotion in his words. Their shared moment of intimacy was abruptly interrupted by the sound of the cockpit door sliding open.

"Hey, I—oh. Sorry... I'll, uh, leave," Garrus stammered, his eyes widening at the sight before him. He quickly turned to go, but Jormun raised a hand to stop him.

"No, Garrus, it's all right," Jormun said with a reassuring smile. "I have some... calibrating to do." He reluctantly let go of Satima's shoulder and left the cockpit, his touch lingering in the air.

Garrus couldn't help but chuckle as he stepped into the room. "Calibrating, huh? Seems like some things never change."

Satima sighed heavily, irritated, and swiveled herself toward him. He stood in the entryway.

"Yes? Is it about your nephew?" she demanded.

Whoa, someone's not happy. Garrus still couldn't understand how he got himself wrapped up in this ship and her juvenile crew.

"No. I found something interesting in your scans. I figured since you are familiar with this ship, you could tell me what the hell it is," he informed.
Satima sat up and stomped to him, "You were hacking my cockpit?" she pointed.

He shrugged, "Old habits, Satima."

Her eyes enlarged with a fuming rage. She shook her head in anger, returning to the pilot seat.

"Let's see what you've got," she muttered, her voice tight with frustration.
Garrus approached cautiously, handing her a data pad. Satima scanned the information quickly, her irritation slowly giving way to curiosity.

"This... this can't be right," she murmured, her eyes narrowing as she focused on the data. The readings were unlike anything she had seen before, and a sense of unease settled over her.

"What is it?" Garrus asked, sensing the shift in her demeanor.

Satima hesitated, her mind racing. Before she could delve deeper into the data, Do'ova's voice crackled through the comm, urgency lacing each word. "Captain! I need to speak with you. Now."

Satima exchanged a puzzled glance with Garrus. His smirk did little to lessen her irritation. "Duty calls, Captain," he remarked, stepping aside with an air of bemusement.

In the cargo area, Caius meticulously stacked the filters together. He had been quite proud of his work until it collapsed dramatically in front of Garrus and Satima.

She chuckled walking past him. "Impressive, Caius. You really missed your calling as a demolition expert, didn't you?"

Caius started to pick up the filters again, muttering under his breath, "Yeah, well, at least I didn't hack anyone's cockpit."

Satima caught Caius's muttered words but let it slide, her mind already racing with questions about what lay ahead.

Do'ova stormed out of the hatch, her eyes blazing with fury as she fixed her gaze on Satima. "You lied to me!" she spat, her voice trembling with emotion. "You said there was no word from the Pact, but Prax told me differently!"

Garrus looked on, bewildered by the sudden turn of events. "What is this about?" he asked, his confusion evident.

Satima's heart pounded as she met Do'ova's accusing stare. "D, whatever you were told..."

Do'ova cut her off, stepping closer with a fierce determination. "I was told that you were given time. Time that my father was robbed of! He's dead because of you, Satima. My cousins are missing or dead because of you!"

The air crackled with tension as the weight of Do'ova's words hung heavily between them. Satima's mind raced, searching for a way to explain, to defuse the situation, but the intensity of Do'ova's anger left her momentarily speechless.

Jormun wandered in to check on the young turian, to see this unfold. "Ancestors.", he spoke aloud.

Satima turned to him, 'What exactly did you two do, while I was gone? While those directive dogs hounded my ship?!" She stared Jormun down. "You took her to the pact?"

He shook his head vehemently. "Oh, no, I did not! She tracked down their location all on her own. I only followed to help keep her safe. Like we discussed."

Do'ova scoffed in disgust. "Discussed? Am I a mewling invalid, a-a child?! That you must treat me this way?" She fumed, balling her fists. "I should kick the both of you!"

Satima's eyes narrowed. "You think this is a game? We're all risking our lives here, and you jeopardize everything for a personal vendetta?"

Do'ova stepped closer, her voice rising. "My family is not a personal vendetta! You abandoned them, Satima! You lied to me!"

Jormun tried to mediate, his voice calm but firm. "Enough! We need to focus on the real enemy here. The Directive won't stop until they catch us."

Garrus interjected, his tone serious. "He's right. We can't afford to be divided. We need to figure out who made that call and why."

Satima crossed her arms, her voice cold. "It was, you, D? Wasn’t it? A comm call from the colony?" She scowled at them both. "I can't believe the two of you would compromise this ship. The Directive is out there, right now. Looking for us. And you go broadcasting our location on a personal hunch? Right after you hack into my ship, without my express permission?!"

The quarian stared at his captain. "Me? I didn't make the call!"

"You helped her infiltrate a pact territory!" Satima raged.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Satima. I forgot we needed permission to do that!" Jormun shouted back, his frustration boiling over.

The argument continued to escalate, voices overlapping, accusations flying, the tension in the room thickening with each passing moment. The fragile unity of the crew seemed to hang by a thread, strained by mistrust and fear.

Satima took one step closer, her eyes fixed firmly on Do'ova. "Listen, I never intended to abandon your family. At that time, I didn't know their exact location or the danger level involved. I knew that if we went searching for them immediately, we risked being captured by the pact or worse. My plan was to keep the directive off our trails, wait for the right moment, and then together, we would find and rescue them."

Garrus sighed deeply, running a hand through his fringes. "Unbelievable," he muttered under his breath. The lack of discipline and the constant bickering among the crew grated on his nerves. He couldn't believe that this ragtag group of rookies was responsible for piloting a spaceship and supposedly helping others. "We’re supposed to be a team," he said aloud, though the words were mostly for himself. "Yet here we are, falling apart at the first sign of trouble."

The shouting started to die down as the captain paced in anger. Jormun crossed his arms while stepping away from the scene.

"My father is dead. Dead!" Do'ova screamed. Tears rimmed her eyes. "He's gone, captain. I loved him. He wanted me."

Satima stopped seething, calming herself. Lowering a shamed gaze. "I'm sorry."

Do'ova stomped forward, shouting discontent. "That's not good enough!"

Jormun put his hand on her arm, but she wrested it away. Their captain stood with arms to the sides, wretched and humiliated. "Your father was already dead. Prax sent your cousins away, and I couldn't do anything. The Directive had been on our tail for months. We barely got by those last few shipments. And then Borlask betrays me? There was no way without getting all of us killed, we could go and help them. I'm sorry that I lied to you, but… you were all that I could save."

Do'ova wiped her large eyes, sniffling. Facing away from them. "I hate you," she mourned. "I don't want to stay here anymore."

Jormun stepped back, offering a small nod to Satima as their eyes briefly met, a silent truce forming between them. Satima took a deep breath.

Do'ova looked away, her face a mask of pain and anger, but she did not object further. Jormun, Garrus, and the rest of the crew exchanged solemn glances, a silent agreement passing between them to no engage in arguing.

Caius stood, confused and curious. His mind raced with questions as the weight of the situation began to sink in. He glanced around at the crew members, hoping to find reassurance in their expressions, but only found the same fear reflected back at him.

Garrus cleared his throat, trying to cut through the heavy fog of tension that hung in the room. "Maybe next time, the captain should trust her crew a bit more," he suggested, his voice carrying a hint of sardonic humor.

Satima gave a reluctant nod, her eyes reflecting the weight of his words. "You're right. I should have trusted you all more."

Just as the crew began to process this rare moment of vulnerability, the blaring alarm tore through the ship's corridors, ricocheting off the metal walls and sending a shiver down every spine.

Everyone's heads snapped towards the source of the sound, the urgency of the moment eclipsing their recent confrontation.

Jormun perked up, his eyes wide with alarm. "What is that?"

Satima's face paled as she recognized the tone of the warning. Her heart pounded in her chest. "They found us," she whispered, before shouting, "Stations! Everyone, to your stations, NOW!"

Jormun's hands flew to his omni-tool, syncing with the ship's scanners in a frenzy. "Captain! We have incoming vessels, ETA LESS THAN FIVE MINUTES!" His voice rang with panic through Haven's comms.

Garrus, muscles tense, pushed past Satima to Caius, grabbing him by the shoulder. "Get to the lower level beneath the bay, and don't come out until I give you the signal!"

Caius's voice shook, "What signal?"

"That we're not dead!" Satima yelled across the room, urgency gripping her every word. She sprinted back to the cockpit, determination and fear battling for control. Haven was about to face the storm.

Do'ova quickly forgot her pain, placing herself in the engine room. Ready to help give the core all the power it needed to jump forward, straight to a relay. Her hands flew over the controls, the sharp hum of the machinery filling her ears as she calibrated the output.

"Do'ova, we need every ounce you can muster!" Jormun's voice crackled over the intercom.

"I know!" she snapped back, her fingers dancing on the console as she diverted power from non-essential systems. The engine room was a chaotic symphony of lights and sounds, but amidst the turmoil, Do'ova found a strange solace. This was her domain, her expertise—a place where she could make a difference. Taking in a deep breath, the salarian engineer got to work.

Garrus burst into the cockpit, finding Satima's fingers flying over the holo panel. "Can you see them?" he demanded, breathless.

"I'm not sure, but they're closing in fast," she replied, her voice edged with fear. She shot him a glance filled with urgency. "You have my full permission to take the fighter and Caius to safety. They won't follow you," she urged.

Garrus felt a jolt of surprise. An unselfish sacrifice from this young captain. But the thought of leaving them to face the enemy alone made his blood run cold. "I'm not abandoning ship just yet," he retorted, a fierce determination in his eyes.

A fleeting sense of relief washed over Satima. Despite everything, they were in this together. And for some inexplicable reason, this turian's presence made her feel a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos.

The ship trembled as the power surged through its systems, every crew member feeling the strain of the impending confrontation. The tension was palpable, but each person was locked into their tasks, driven by the singular need to survive.

Garrus clenched his jaw, his eyes darting over the controls. "Satima, we need a plan. Now."

Satima's mind raced, trying to find a way out of the deadly trap closing in around them. "Do'ova, can you give us a burst of power to the shields? We need to hold them off for as long as we can."

"I'm on it!" Do'ova's voice rang with determination, her fingers a blur on the console.

As the crew fought to prepare for the incoming threat, Satima couldn't shake the feeling that their luck was running out. The enemy was relentless, and their resources were dwindling. She glanced over at Garrus, the unspoken connection bonding them to this fate.

"Ready the weapons," she ordered, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging within her. "We are not going down without a fight."
The crew braced themselves as the dreadnoughts loomed ever closer, their dark, ominous forms a testament to the power they wielded. But Haven's crew had faced impossible odds before, and this time would be no different.

Just as she was about to give the command to engage, the two dreadnoughts, rumored to be made from the scrapped pieces of dead reaper ships, appeared using ultra-light FTL. If only Satima could get her hands on it for Haven. They overshadowed the small ship, hunters finding their prey. A comm channel opened.

"Greetings again, Satima. I hope your journey has been a pleasant one." There was a pause. "But the Directive has plans. And, you… are those plans."

The droid voice that sent chills down her spine delivered his message. With the Haven cornered, what was she supposed to do?

"They're overriding the VI system! The docking hatch has been breached. Satima... they're on board," Do'ova's terrified voice echoed around them.
Garrus hoped Cauis kept quiet and hidden.

Satima closed her eyes to open them with a sharp gulp down her throat. She stood up and turned with Garrus to see Archer and directive soldiers standing directly behind them. Satima's heart dropped.

"I hope you don't mind me letting myself in?" Archer smiled wickedly at her.

They were all led down to the shuttle bay. Archer stood in front of the fighter vessel. He motioned for one of his soldiers to come forward. The militant went inside the fighter, seconds passed, and he came out dragging Caius. Garrus shook his head in disappointment.

Jormun stood next to Satima, his hand brushing the side of her back in a quick, tense motion. She felt his attempt to offer calm but couldn't reciprocate.

Do'ova stood a foot back, her anger visible, a raw edge of emotion ready to erupt. Funny how the fear of these soldiers had momentarily vanished.
Archer paced in front of them, stopping directly in front of Satima.

"Why do you resist, Satima? We only want to help you advance further in your training," he said, his voice dripping with false sincerity. His cold blue eyes bore into her, unyielding and calculating.

There was nothing sincere in that twisted AI's mind.

"Oh, you know what they say. Home is where the heart is, right?" she remarked, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she crossed her arms, leaning on one leg, trying to appear unimpressed.

Archer's laughter echoed through the bay, cold and devoid of any genuine amusement. "So, you think this ship is home? Pathetic," he sneered, turning his gaze towards the battered fighter. "Do you understand, child, that there is no escape? Not from me, not from the Directive..." He stepped closer, his eyes now piercing through her like shards of ice. "And certainly not from the darkness within yourself."

Satima's jaw tightened, her eyes steely with resolve. "You underestimate us, Archer. This crew is more than just a collection of individuals. We're a family, bonded by trust and loyalty. And we will fight to the end, not just for survival, but for each other. And as for me," she stepped forward, her voice unwavering, "I will never yield to you or your twisted vision."

The room fell silent as the implications of her words hung in the air.

Archer's eyes narrowed, and an unsettling smile crept across his face. "A family, you say? Then let's see how strong those bonds truly are."

He raised a hand and motioned for the directive soldiers to close in, weapons drawn. Satima felt the weight of his words and the hesitant thoughts of her own ability to protect her crew. Her family.

Lowering her eyes in despair, Satima felt the weight of their predicament. But as Archer's cold gaze bore into her, defiance sparked within her. "Maybe I can't escape what I am, but you can't escape your predictability."

Archer raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "And what exactly, my dear, are you referring to?"

Straightening her posture, she shot him a daring look. "You're getting too obsessed with me, and that makes you cocky," she smirked. "You're losing focus, old man. And I've rigged Haven to blow."

Archer's eyes widened, but he quickly masked his surprise. "I have control of your VI system," he retorted, trying to regain his composure.

"Two minutes to self-destruct," the VI echoed in the comms, its voice unwavering.

Satima felt a surge of adrenaline. "Yes, you did hack into it, but I pre-programmed the VI to initiate self-destruct if someone tried to take over the ship's basic functions," she smiled slyly, her confidence growing.

Archer's face twisted with a mix of fury and grudging respect. Time was running out, and the balance of power had shifted.

Garrus raised a plated brow in genuine surprise. He had always known Satima was clever, but this level of premeditated ingenuity was beyond even his expectations. The idea that she had anticipated Archer’s moves and rigged Haven to self-destruct under such specific conditions was a testament to her strategic foresight and survival instincts.

Good thing he had focused on manipulating the fighter and not Haven. Satima is a cunning girl, he thought, feeling a newfound respect for the captain who had just outmaneuvered one of the most dangerous adversaries they had ever faced.

Do'ova's heart pounded as she realized the gravity of Satima's cunning plan. If she had attempted to commandeer Haven to search for her family, she would have met a fiery end. The sheer brilliance and paranoia of her captain left her in awe. Why would Satima go to such lengths?

Archer's eyes gleamed with a mix of fury and respect. "You think you've outsmarted me, Satima? Very well, let us see if you have the resolve to carry through with your threat." He waved his hand, signaling his soldiers to retreat slightly. "Deactivate the self-destruct now, and perhaps we can reach an arrangement."

Satima's heart raced, but she stood her ground. "You misunderstand, Archer. There is no negotiation here. My crew and I would rather go down fighting than become pawns in your twisted game."

Archer's menacing smile faltered, replaced by a cold, calculating stare. He knew she wasn't bluffing. "You are truly a remarkable adversary, Satima. But remember this: I always have a contingency plan."

"One minute and thirty-five seconds to self-destruct.", the VI announced again.

Archer turned to his soldiers, grabbing a weapon, then back to Jormun. Satima held her breath, with deep terror welling up. "No, please—" she started, but her plea was cut short.

He shot the quarian boy in the gut. "A lesson in defiance, Satima.", Archer calmly explained.

Do'ova's eyes blinked harshly when the shot was fired, fear gripping her heart like a vice. She could barely breathe as the realization set in—Jormun's life was hanging by a thread, and the cold-blooded ruthlessness of Archer was on full display. Her mind raced with the horrifying possibilities; every sound, every movement seemed amplified in her heightened state of terror.

She thought about her own family, the loved ones she longed to protect, and the unbearable thought of losing them in a similar fashion. Each second felt like an eternity as she stood paralyzed, her body trembling, caught in the merciless grip of dread.

Satima grabbed him, her hands trembling as she pressed against his wound. Blood seeped through her fingers, staining his armor as they collapsed onto the grated floor. Jormun gasped, his face contorted in pain, yet somehow he managed a weak smile. "It's just a flesh wound… I'll be fine," he muttered through gritted teeth.

Satima's voice trembled as she tried to maintain her composure. "Don't talk," she managed to say, her eyes welling with tears. "You turn those damn suit scrubbers on and try not to get an infection, you weak immune bastard," she added, trying to muster a smile through her fear.

Jormun laughed, but each breath was a struggle, and the sound was shallow and weak. The fear of losing him tightened around her heart like a vice, and she pressed harder against his wound, desperate to stop the bleeding.

Archer's agitation grew as Caius had a gun pressed to his temple. "The next shot won't be a 'flesh wound', Satima. Think on that," he warned, his voice dripping with cold menace.

Satima's heart pounded in her chest. She didn't dare turn her head, but her gaze lifted, filled with worry. Not the kid!

Garrus's heart pounded in his chest as he watched the events unfold. His eyes darted between Satima and the precarious situation at hand. Every fiber of his being screamed to act, to save Caius from Archer's merciless grip. His breath came in rapid, shallow gasps, and desperation clawed at his throat.

Without a weapon, he knew his chances were slim, but he couldn't stand by and do nothing. He clenched his fists, muscles tensing as he prepared to charge. The thought of losing Caius was unbearable, and the raw need to protect his family fueled his every move. Garrus was no amateur when it came to using his body as a weapon, and in that moment, he was ready to risk everything to save Caius's life.

Satima's eyes darted upward, taking in the dire situation. Archer's grin widened, relishing the chaos he had orchestrated. Every second felt like an eternity as she weighed her options, her mind racing against the clock. The tension in the air was visible, a thin string ready to snap.

"How many lives must be lost, all to save you from your destiny? ", Archer argued. "Are you really a monster, to steal the future of this young man here? Just so you can escape for another day?" He pressed the muzzle hard on the turian boy's plated temple.
Satima watched Caius's fearful gaze towards her. Glancing to Do'ova, who seemed immobilized with terror. Her crew, her friends… trusted her with their safety.

"How many lives must be lost, all to save you from your destiny?" Archer argued, his voice a chilling whisper that cut through the tension. "Are you really a monster, to steal the future of this young man here? Just so you can escape for another day?" He pressed the muzzle hard against Caius's plated temple, the cold metal biting into the boy's skin.

Satima's heart raced as she watched Caius's fearful gaze locked onto her, begging for salvation. She glanced at Do'ova, who seemed paralyzed with terror, unable to move or speak. The weight of responsibility for her crew, her friends, bore down on her shoulders like a crushing wave.

Her mind spun in a frantic blur, searching for any possible solution. Every second felt like an eternity, the ticking clock of the VI's self-destruct countdown echoing in her ears. The walls seemed to close in around her, suffocating her with the hopelessness of the situation. The desperate need to protect her crew, the unbearable thought of losing Caius, drove her to the edge of her sanity.

"Please, Archer," she finally managed to choke out, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and defiance. "There has to be another way. Don't do this. Not at the cost of innocent lives."

Archer's grin widened, relishing the chaos he had orchestrated. "Innocence is a luxury you can no longer afford, Satima. The clock is ticking, and your choices are running out."

She hastily sent a signal to relay off a nearby com-bouy with the sequence to stop the self-destruct program. Then she decided to end this madness.

She held up a bloody hand. "I'll go with you. IF!", Satima looked around her. There is no one to save her now. "If you promise to leave them alone," her voice heavy with emotion.

"No! Satima!", Jormun pleaded to her. He coughed, feeling weaker by the second.

Archer calmed and withdrew the gun, "Good girl."

Satima signaled desperately to Garrus to help Jormun. Caius was released and bolted to his uncle's side. The soldiers grabbed Satima forcefully, their grips bruising her arms as they twisted them mercilessly.
Jormun pushed his weakened body to get up, his movements fraught with pain. Garrus grabbed his arm, supporting him despite the boy's vehement protests. "Get your hands off Satima!" Jormun's voice wavered with desperation and anger. He stumbled, but Garrus held firm, putting the boy's arm around his carapaced shoulders.

Every second felt critical, the weight of their predicament pressing down on them, as the fate of their captain hung in the balance.

Satima stared at him, her eyes holding a certain defiance, even as fear gnawed at her insides. She forced a smirk, attempting to mask her dread with bravado. "These assholes don't scare me, Jormun. I'm fine," she said, her voice steady despite the slight tremble.

Do'ova watched helplessly, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and despair. She wondered if her captain, Satima, truly deserved such a cruel fate. Was this dire situation a result of some cosmic karma, or was it a test meant to prove her own worth and ability to act in the face of adversity? The questions gnawed at her, leaving her paralyzed and torn between doubt and the desperate need to take action.

They bound and gagged the captain, dragging her off Haven with brutal force. The dreadnoughts loomed ominously as the comm buoy finally signaled back the sequence. Garrus's breath hitched, every second feeling like a lifetime as he re-hacked the ship, fingers flying over the controls, desperate to restore normal functions.

Despite what he felt, if he didn't get Jormun to a clinic soon, the boy would die. Caius's mother would have to pick him up there. Solanna is going to kill him.

Despite the urgency to save Jormun, Garrus knew that any delay could mean the end for the young boy. The clinic was their only hope, but time was slipping away like sand through his fingers. Caius's mother would have to pick him up there, but could they even make it in time?

The weight of the situation crushed down on Garrus, knowing that Solanna would never forgive him if he failed at protecting his nephew. The dread gnawed at him, each second amplifying the tension, as he fought against the inevitable.

Chapter Text

Hades Nexus

A medical station in the Hades Nexus was his destination. Garrus Vakarian had been through countless battles, both physical and emotional. Yet, the prospect of this encounter stirred a sense of trepidation within him. It had been years since he last saw or even talked to her, and their friendship had been left in a state of uncertainty.

The galaxy had changed irrevocably since the Reaper's harvest had paused. Commander Shepard's transformation into the cybernetic Reaper and subsequent betrayal of her crew left scars that were still healing.

Haven docked at The Athame Memorial Medical Station. Named after the ancient Asari goddess of wisdom and prophecy, the station stood as a beacon of hope in the desolate expanse of space. The loss of Thessia, the Asari homeworld, was a wound that had not yet healed. Countless Asari were uprooted, their homes reduced to rubble, and their colonies struggling to stand.

The station was a flurry of activity, with injured and dying Asari being tended to with care and compassion. The war had left its mark on every corner of the galaxy, and the Hades Nexus was no exception. The medical staff worked tirelessly, their dedication unwavering even in the face of overwhelming odds. Though other species were welcomed to medical care, the focus was undeniably on the Asari, their recovery the main agenda.

Garrus stepped off the Haven, his blue armor catching the sterile lights of the station. The familiar scent of antiseptic filled his nostrils, a reminder of countless medbays he had visited throughout his career. He walked with purpose, his mandibles twitching slightly as he approached the reception desk.

"I’m here to see Dr. Liara T'Soni," he said, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken history.

The receptionist, a young Asari with tired eyes, nodded and directed him to a quiet corner of the station.

They stopped at an information kiosk, where a bio-field scanned them and checked for weapons. Garrus accessed a terminal, and an asari appeared on the screen.

Her skin was a delicate powder blue, with darker hues hinting at her age. She wore a trusting smile, but her eyes betrayed a deeper wariness.
"Garrus? Is that really you?" the asari asked in shock. "How long has it been? Ten? Twelve years?"

Garrus cleared his throat, "It's good to see an old friend again."

The asari set a datapad aside. "Something significant must have brought you here after so long. No matter. I'm coming to get you."

The station was stunning, with live plants blooming into vibrant, exotic flowers. The walls were a sleek blue metal with a glossy sheen, and the glass doors frosted when closed, providing privacy to each ward and room. The double doors slid open, revealing the rehab wing.

"Garrus, I can't believe it's you!" exclaimed the asari, now wearing a crisp white lab coat. She wrapped her arms around him warmly.

He hesitated for a moment before returning the hug lightly. Garrus then turned to Jormun, who was barely able to stand, supported by Caius and Do'ova.

"We need your help. It involves the Directive," he said, motioning her over.

The asari raised her hand, signaling him to stop. "No need to explain. Those monsters have done enough harm," she said, approaching the young crew. "I'll help you and your friend," she added warmly.
......................
Garrus hung out for a bit in the medical wing waiting for news of Jormun's recovery. Do'ova wandered off to herself while Caius played on his omni-tool until a familiar voice echoed in the lobby.

"So here you are." It was Solanna. She had a hand on her left hip, glaring straight at Garrus. He sat up from the lounging chair. She wore the tech uniform of the turian ship, she's serving on.

Garrus slowly stepped toward her, knowing how upset she was. "Look Sol, I found him on Digeris. He was trying to run away again," he stood up pointing at the boy.

Solanna sighed, walking toward him. She gave Garrus a head nudge. "Thank you for keeping him safe," her tone sounding sad. "I didn't think I'd ever see you alive again."

He could see a worry plate forming in the middle of her forehead. Poor Sol hasn't had a decent break since her mate died. Garrus barely had enough time to know him.

"Caius, go and wait for me in the sky car... please, son," she waved him to the balcony outside the building.

Solanna faced Garrus again, her eyes filled with concern. "When are you ever coming home?"

He looked away in slight irritation. "You know there is no home to go back to." Garrus started from her. "I can't live on ships and distant colonies. Like the quarians, like…"

"Like me?" Solanna interrupted, her voice trembling. She stepped next to him and nodded her head in understanding, but her grip on his arm tightened as if she feared he might vanish at any moment. "Forgive the past, Garrus. You only have so much time with your family."

Solanna walked out of the lobby. Garrus felt a wave of emotions crash over him, forcing him to sit down heavily in the chair. He buried his face in his talons, overwhelmed by the turmoil within. Anguish, guilt, and longing intertwined, each vying for dominance in his heart.

The weight of his unresolved feelings pressed upon him, each breath a reminder of the forgiveness he could not yet give. A hard lesson he'll carry to his grave.
............................................
Do'ova found herself on the market level of the station. Someone was serving cooked meals, while lined shops provided quick sales via a terminal. She walked around quietly, her thoughts a tumultuous whirl. Jormun occupied her mind; she hoped he had made it, but uncertainty gnawed at her.

Her mind fell on what happened to Satima, her captain. Is she alive? Or dead too? Does she deserve it? The questions pounded relentlessly, each one more painful than the last. How would her father react to this situation? She smiled bitterly, recalling his words: anger clouds sound judgment.

Caught between her worry for Jormun and her unresolved feelings about Satima, Do'ova's heart felt heavy. So, what kind of judgment did Satima get?

.............................................................
Recovery Level

Garrus pulled out a small, primitive flask, a relic handed to him by a human on a distant colony years ago. Since then, he had faithfully filled it with turian whiskey, his remedy for when emotions and memories surged too intensely.

When doubt crowded his mind, the flask was his refuge. The alcohol dulled his senses just enough to drift into sleep. He reclined, hoping for a brief escape and the strength he needed to rescue Satima.

The lobby's sliding door whooshed open, revealing Liara. She stepped in, her demeanor cooler and less cheerful than before.

"Still drinking, I see," she remarked, raising an eyebrow. Her icy blue gaze sent a shiver down his spine.

Liara took a seat, while Garrus slouched in his. "It's my life, Liara. I'll handle it my way," he muttered, his eyes drifting to the asari patients wandering the garden outside the lobby window.

Her unwavering stare pressed him to speak. "I know you better than you think. You drink when you dream and when you brood. Tell me, are you scheming something?" she asked, crossing her legs and clasping her hands in her lap, scrutinizing his tense posture.

"Liara, just let me rest. I'll explain everything later," Garrus sighed, draping an arm over his face.

She glanced down, nodded, and quietly exited. Despite the newfound silence, sleep still eluded Garrus.

HIVE Station
Experimental Wing: Chamber Eleven

Satima woke groggily. The room seemed dim; the familiar black walls gave off an eerie feeling. She tried to move her body. Her legs worked but were clamped tight to a chair. Panic set in, her heart pounded in her chest, and a cold sweat broke out on her skin.

Satima realized she was imprisoned to it. Stripped down and put into an undersuit, cold and afraid. The oppressive silence around her only heightened the sense of dread. What was the real agenda? What did Satima need to fear now? The unknown loomed over her like a dark cloud, suffocating her with its weight.

A door opened in the far corner, sending a shiver down Satima's spine. Two scientists entered, their faces void of emotion. They methodically set up a table laden with sinister-looking medical instruments. Among them were several injectors, gleaming ominously under the sterile lights.

Archer strode in, his presence casting a dark shadow over the room. He grabbed an injector, his eyes narrowing with a predatory glint. He paced behind Satima, savoring her fear, while the scientists deliberately ignored both of them, focusing on their holo grids.

Archer examined the sharp needle, the liquid inside glistening with malevolence. He stepped in front of her, his gaze piercing through her. "I've never revealed your true mutation," he said, a cruel smile curling his lips. "Care to guess?"

Satima's heart pounded in her chest, but she refused to plead for mercy. It would be futile. Her only hope was to find a way out or to wish for a swift end. "I don't know," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I figure screwing around with someone's DNA can lead to any kind of fucked up mutations."

Archer jams the injector into her neck, forcing Satima to howl in pain. The room becomes dizzy as a whining noise deafens her, with a crowd of voices all whispering. Her head feels like it's going to explode.
The droid villain continues to monitor her. He places the empty injector down, turning his head to one of the HIVE scientists. "Tell me: will she mutate further?", he enquired.

An asari scientist replied, typing away at the terminal. "Not without complications. Her human DNA is fighting the genetic template."

Archer groaned in agitation. "That's because you're not using the paternal sample." He warned.

The scientist gulped but kept on typing. "Sir. The sample is too old. We had to improvise."

Archer's impatience grew as he studied the restrained Satima. He leaned closer to the asari scientist, his eyes dark and threatening. "Explain the nature of these mutations," he demanded, his voice a low growl.

The scientist hesitated, then began to speak, her voice trembling slightly. "These mutations are unlike any we've seen before. We've combined elements of various species to enhance their attributes. Human DNA served as the foundation, but we've integrated asari biotic genes with nano-regenerative capabilities."

Archer's gaze sharpened as the scientist continued. "The result should be a being with remarkable strength, agility, and healing powers. However, the process is unpredictable. The human DNA resists some of these changes, leading to complications."

"Complications?" Archer echoed, his tone icy. "What kind of complications?"

The scientist swallowed nervously. "The older DNA sequences bonded stronger over time. Her parentage chromosomes prove resilient despite the more recent modifications. The paternal sample you mentioned holds a unique stability, allowing for an unparalleled integration of asari biotic genes and nano-regenerative capabilities."

Archer's eyes narrowed, his curiosity piqued. "And what does this mean for her current state?" he demanded.

The scientist hesitated for a moment before replying, "It means that her mutations are both advanced and unstable. The older paternal DNA is fighting to maintain dominance, causing unpredictable interactions with the newer genetic enhancements. This instability is what leads to the complications we've observed."

Archer's impatience was palpable. "So, how do we stabilize her?"

The scientist took a deep breath, her fingers still dancing over the terminal. "We need a fresher sample of the paternal DNA. Without it, we can only manage the symptoms and hope for the best.”

A darkness seemed to seep into Satima's very bones, spreading like an insidious fog. It clouded her vision, making the room appear to pulse and warp around her. The whispers grew louder, filling her mind with incoherent murmurs and fragmented thoughts. They twisted and turned, echoing in the recesses of her consciousness, making it difficult to discern reality from the nightmarish hallucinations.

Each whisper felt like a dagger, stabbing into her thoughts and unraveling her sense of self. The voices merged into a cacophony that drowned out her own inner voice, leaving her feeling detached and disoriented. Her body betrayed her as waves of nausea rolled through her, and her limbs grew weak and unresponsive.

Archer leaned over, noticing her sweaty brow. "It won't last long. Soon, you'll be perfected. Just not in your mother's image," he mused, his voice a chilling contradiction to the chaos brewing in Satima's body.

She writhed against her restraints, the physical agony of the mutations battling within her almost too much to bear. The room's harsh fluorescent lighting seemed to pulsate along with the rhythm of her racing heart. Conflicting sensations of heat and cold washed over her, each wave more disorienting than the last.

Archer turned his attention back to the asari scientist. "We need that fresher sample. Prepare everything to extract it." His tone brooked no argument, leaving no room for dissent.

The scientist nodded, her fingers flying over the keys. "Understood, sir. But it will take time to locate and secure a viable sample."

Time... It was the one thing Satima felt slipping away from her grasp. Her mind was a battlefield of encroaching darkness and fleeting moments of lucidity. Each second stretched into an eternity as she struggled to hold on to her sense of self.

Archer's gaze flicked back to her, a predator assessing its prey. "Don't worry, Satima. Once we stabilize you, you'll be grateful for the changes. You'll be stronger, faster, more powerful than you ever imagined."
His words barely registered through the haze of pain and noise. All Satima could think about was survival—finding some way to endure the torment and emerge on the other side, no matter what she had to become to do it.

But as the darkness seeped deeper into her bones, she wondered if there would be anything left of her to salvage once the horror had run its course. Her vision blurred, and the room spun wildly, the cacophony of whispers reaching a fever pitch. The last coherent thought she had was a desperate wish for the nightmare to end.

................................................................

Reaper knows this system. She scans the area and finds blue emission trails from three ships, two being larger and the other smaller. Following the smaller trail, she comes in sight of a clinical station—Athame Memorial.

Since leaving the directive and HIVE, Reaper has changed from her distinctive nano armor to a subtler look of civilian wear. After dispatching directive soldiers, being noticeable would be harmful to her plans. Her mission.

She only hopes the very visible cybernetics won't give her away too soon.

Reaper spotted Haven in the docking port. She landed her shuttle on the balcony above. Current scans show no one on board. She decided to stow away and wait for Satima.

As she waited, her thoughts turned to the hybrid. Reaper felt a mix of apprehension and determination; she knew that facing Satima would not be easy. Would Satima understand why she had to leave, why she had to fight the directive on her own terms?

She hoped Satima would see the remorse in her eyes, the regret that weighed heavily on her heart. More than anything, she hoped for forgiveness, though she knew she might not deserve it. They have a lot to discuss. Reaper has a lot to atone for.

......................

Athame Memorial

Jormun woke in a clean room, his senses gradually adjusting to the sterile environment. For a Quarian, such luxury was rare, as most of his kind preferred the familiarity of their homeworld or the crowded confines of their fleets. The efforts made for him here at Athame Memorial were a testament to the station's commitment to providing care for all species, irrespective of their origins or status.

As he sat up, the memories of the days prior flooded back. The name "Satima" burst from his lips, propelling him out of bed with a sudden urgency. However, his hasty exit was thwarted as he collided with Garrus, who stood guard outside the door. Jormun tumbled backward, hitting the floor with a thud.

"Whoa! What's the hurry?" Garrus questioned, extending a hand to help Jormun to his feet.

"Satima! We have to save her!" Jormun's voice was frantic as he attempted to dart past Garrus again, only to be blocked.

"You're not going anywhere," Garrus declared firmly. "You still need to be checked and treated. Satima can't have you running fevers and passing out all over the HIVE station." His smile was warm, but his tone left no room for argument.

Jormun's spirits lifted slightly, "So, you're not going to stop me from going?"

Garrus shook his head, "No, but I need my crew to be in good shape. That is if you don't mind that I drive for a while?"

Reluctantly, Jormun returned to sit on the edge of his bed. "Thank you, Garrus. If you hadn't been around when he came on board…"

"Don't worry about it," Garrus interrupted. "It's been a long while since I've been on a ship with a good crew." He nodded to the Quarian, signaling respect and camaraderie.

Liara entered the room, her presence bringing a sense of calm. "Jormun, I need to scan you and take some tests. Are you up for it?"

He nodded and followed her out, leaving Garrus alone with his thoughts. The memories of their recent tribulations weighed heavily on him. How were they going to infiltrate HIVE again? The first attempt had nearly cost him his life, and the second had led to their encounter with Satima.

"Third time's the charm," he muttered to himself, a mix of determination and anxiety in his voice.

Garrus found solace in the garden, a rare oasis within the metallic confines of the station. Liara joined him, her presence a reassuring constant. Together, they sat on a bench, watching a small waterfall cascade into a larger garden below. The fragrant scent of flowers and grass reminded him of the Citadel's once-vibrant parks, a semblance of organic life in a galaxy dominated by metal and stone.

"It's not nice to stare," Garrus remarked, breaking the silence as he noticed Liara's gaze.

Liara chuckled softly, "I could say the same. When I first met you, it seemed that you would look at me every time I entered the room. And when I caught you, there was always a slight hesitation in reasons you were looking my way."

Garrus smirked at the memory, "The SR1. Couldn't help but be smitten with all the beautiful ladies that came on board. Some even said I should've asked Tali out."

A quiet settled over them, a shared understanding of the past and its lingering impact. Liara stood, walking towards him with a contemplative expression. "You fell smitten with someone else," she observed, her gaze piercing.

Garrus felt the intensity of her emotions, the remnants of a painful history. Liara's disdain for the memory of Shepard was palpable, a reflection of her own unresolved feelings. If only he could be as resolute, free from the nagging tug in his heart.

Jormun's unexpected arrival broke the tension. He approached with a buoyant energy, waving enthusiastically. "Looks like I get a clean bill of health. Now let's get Satima back!" His eagerness almost irritated Garrus, who was still grappling with his own inner turmoil.

"Where's Do'ova? And your nephew?" Jormun inquired, looking around in confusion.

Liara's suspicion was evident as she folded her arms. "Satima?" she questioned, casting a glance at Garrus.

Garrus rubbed the back of his neck, "Yeah. She sacrificed herself so we could escape. There would've been no other way." He shifted his gaze to Jormun. "And, Do'ova has wandered off. I'm sure she's got a lot to think about."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Liara responded, her blue eyes narrowing as she studied Garrus.

Jormun's impatience was growing. "She's not dead!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with urgency.

"No, she's not," Garrus reassured him. "Go get Haven warmed up. I'll bring some medical supplies just in case. Try to comm Do'ova. See what her decision will be."

With that, Jormun dashed out of the garden, leaving Garrus and Liara to finish their conversation. Liara shared updates on her efforts to protect her people and help those in need, while Garrus revealed his concerns about their remaining crew members.

As they walked through the station's lobby, Garrus couldn't help but ask, "Have you heard anything about them?"

Liara's eyes softened as she felt the weight of his question. "Not for a long while," she admitted, her voice tinged with melancholy. "Ashley was determined to aid her people, the humans. But with the alliance shattered, its footholds and outposts are now just remnants of the past. They drift through the galaxy, much like us, searching for a new purpose."

Her words hung in the air, a stark reminder of their harrowing struggles. Garrus nodded, the weight of the past pressing down on him like a suffocating shroud. "Does anyone know why the Reapers stopped their harvest? Why she's with them?" His voice trembled slightly, referring to none other than the commander herself.

"Other than to fall victim to their enthrallment and betray everyone she swore to protect." Liara's voice trembled with emotion, her eyes welling up with unshed tears. She composed herself, stopping their walk to face Garrus. "If there is a way to escape this nightmare, I would give anything to find it, Garrus. " Her voice cracked, revealing the depth of her concern and the weight of her tension.

Liara placed her slender azure hand on his arm, a gesture filled with a profound sense of sorrow. "All I can do with the time I have, all eight hundred and thirty years of it, is help make sure this galaxy survives. Then, one day, either we all fight back, or finally perish and fade into a fifty-thousand-year dream."

Garrus looked at her touch, feeling a connection that transcended their shared pain. Without thinking, he placed his hand over hers. They exchanged a knowing look, a silent understanding of the battles they had fought and the ones still to come.

"Maybe you're right, Liara," Garrus admitted, easing her hand off his arm. "I have to go on a rescue mission now. Wish me luck?" He offered a smirk, his resolve renewed.

Liara composed herself, smiling at him. "Goddess go with you, Garrus. And I hope you can save Satima. She sounds like an honorable young lady." She winked, leaving him to prepare for the mission ahead.
But before she left, Garrus reached out and gently took her hand. "Liara, thank you. For everything. We've been through so much together, and I don't think I could have done any of it without you."

Liara's eyes softened, and she squeezed his hand in return. "We're a team, Garrus. Always have been, always will be. Just promise me you'll come back in one piece. This galaxy still needs you."

Garrus nodded, feeling a warmth in his chest that only Liara could evoke. "I promise.” With one last shared glance, they let go, each carrying the weight of their shared history and the hope of a future.

Garrus nodded, turning towards the hall that led away from the lobby. He knew the risks, the dangers that awaited him at the reaper station. But he owed it to Satima, to the memory of their shared struggles, to attempt a rescue. Even if it meant facing the unknown and risking his life, he would fight for her, for the chance to bring her back from the brink.

As he walked away, Garrus felt a renewed sense of purpose. The path ahead was fraught with uncertainty, but he was determined to see it through. With Liara's parting words echoing in his mind, he steeled himself for the challenges to come. The fight was far from over, and he would do whatever it took to ensure Satima's survival.

In the rehab wing, Liara sat at her terminal, her fingers dancing over the keys as she worked on patient records. The chatter of the asari assistants faded into the background as she focused on her task. Her thoughts wandered to Garrus and the mission ahead. She had a nagging feeling that something was amiss.

With a furtive glance around the room, Liara activated her omni-tool and discreetly began a search for information on Satima. She needed to know more about the girl Garrus was so determined to rescue. The database search yielded several files, and Liara scanned them quickly, committing the details to memory.

Satisfied with what she had learned, Liara closed the files and erased any trace of her search. She then stood up, smoothing her lab coat and adopting a calm demeanor. She couldn't afford to arouse suspicion now.
As she made her way to the docking platform, her mind was already racing with plans. She needed to be prepared for whatever awaited them.
As Garrus conducted a quick diagnostic check of the thrusters on Haven, a sudden ping from the docking terminal caught his attention. Curiosity piqued, he made his way to the hatch and was surprised to find Liara standing there, a small pack of medical supplies in hand.

"Oh Spirits!", he exclaimed, a mix of relief and nervousness in his voice.
Without waiting for an invitation, Liara darted inside, her eyes scanning the compact and sparsely furnished interior of the ship. "All right, I'm here. Whatever is going on, I want in," she declared with determination.
She set her pack on the table, her gaze lingering on the minimalistic surroundings. "How quaint," she remarked, casting an inquisitive glance at Garrus before wandering off to inspect the other rooms.

Garrus couldn't help but smile at her tenacity. "Here we go," he thought, bracing himself for the adventure that lay ahead.

Do'ova stood outside the pristine docking platform, staring at Haven. Jormun was alive. He had called her, begging for her to join them. She was relieved to know he was well, but doubts gnawed at her. Was that enough to justify her involvement?

A wave of regret and uncertainty washed over her, making her steps falter. With a deep breath, she pressed forward, her resolve wavering with each step. As she finally boarded Haven, she made her way to the cockpit, her heart pounding. She was surprised to see the turian named Garrus sitting in the pilot seat.

"Do'ova," Garrus began, his voice steady but his eyes betraying a tumult of emotions. He stood to greet her, a semblance of familiarity in his posture. "Look, I know we hardly know each other, and I'm not fully aware of what transpired between you and Satima. But I need you to understand something: this mission is dangerous, and if you feel it’s too much, it’s perfectly fine to stay behind. Satima would understand."

He paused, struggling to find the right words. "I've faced countless battles, lost friends, and seen allies fall. The past is a blur of confusion and loss, but it has also forged my resilience. I am determined to rescue Satima because I owe it to her and to every sacrifice made along the way."

He looked directly into Do'ova's eyes, his gaze intense and unwavering. "The path ahead is perilous, and I need to know that you’re ready for it. If you choose to stay, there’s no shame in that. But if you come with us, know that we fight for more than just survival—we fight for those we care about."

She hesitated, her gaze shifting to the floor as she gathered her thoughts. "I want to help," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "I need to see what's stopping me from finding the rest of my family." Despite the uncertainty in her eyes, there was a flicker of resolve that couldn't be ignored. With a steadying breath, she stepped away and made her way through the mess toward Liara.

As they settled into the ship, the hum of the engines providing a steady backdrop, Jormun's sharp eyes caught an anomaly on the ship's console. A flicker of concern crossed his expression as he leaned closer to the screen.

"Garrus, there's an unusual scan that was taken just before we took off," he said, his voice laced with urgency. He was in the engine room, surrounded by the whir and hum of the machinery that kept them aloft.

Garrus's eyes narrowed as he processed the information. His hands moved swiftly over the controls, initiating a series of evasive maneuvers. "We can't take any chances," he muttered to himself. His mind raced through possibilities, each one more dangerous than the last. If it was HIVE, they couldn't afford to be found.

He activated the relay, the ship shuddering slightly as it prepared to jump. The familiar starscape blurred into streaks of light as they escaped the system. Garrus glanced at the screen, ensuring they had left the potential threat far behind.

"We're not out of the woods yet," he said to Jormun, his voice steady but underlined with tension. "Stay vigilant. We don't know how persistent our pursuers might be."

Jormun nodded, his focus unwavering. "Understood. I'll keep an eye on the systems."

The ship settled into a quieter hum as they entered the relative safety of the relay’s far side. Garrus allowed himself a moment of relief, but he knew it would be short-lived. The mission ahead was fraught with perils, and they needed to be ready for whatever came next.

Liara made her way to the shuttle bay, her curiosity piqued by the fighter's battle-worn appearance. The red hull bore the scars of numerous skirmishes, each mark telling a story of its resilience.

Meanwhile, Do'ova meticulously checked the hacks Garrus had implemented earlier, her movements cautious and deliberate as she avoided the asari's inquisitive gaze. Suddenly, a rattling sound emerged from one of the crates behind the nets, catching Do'ova's attention and adding a layer of suspense to the already tense atmosphere.

Garrus found them there, watching from afar. Liara swept her hand across the outer hull, her curiosity piqued. "Is this from the HIVE?" she inquired, her eyes tracing the intricate patterns etched into the metal.

"Yes," Garrus confirmed, opening the hatch. "Superior technology, but it comes with a cost."

"And Satima?" Liara repeated, her curiosity evident. "Who exactly is she? What happened to her?" She stepped inside, eager to examine the strange technology up close.

Garrus hesitated, his gaze shifting briefly as he considered his words. "Satima... she's important for more reasons than I can explain right now. Archer's experiments are dangerous, and she's caught in the middle of them. We can't leave her there. She's... vital to our mission and to me personally." He paused, struggling with the weight of his thoughts. "Just trust me, Liara. We need to get her back."

Liara pondered his words, a myriad of questions swirling in her mind. What made Satima so special that Garrus had developed such a profound connection to her? She wondered about the nature of their relationship and the depth of his determination to rescue her. Was it simply a sense of duty, or was there something more personal at stake? The mention of this Archer's dangerous experiments only added to her curiosity. What exactly was Archer doing, and why was Satima so crucial to their mission?

Sudden, hurried footsteps echoed outside the vessel, causing everyone to tense. A voice, dripping with urgency, reverberated through the ship. "Then you are wasting time by discussing it. Archer will continue his experiments, even if it kills her."

Garrus and Liara swiftly moved towards the source, their hands instinctively reaching for their weapons. Do'ova dropped her soldering gun in startled alarm as Liara's biotics flared to life, casting an ominous glow. The atmosphere crackled with tension, every heartbeat a resounding drum in the silence.

Before Garrus could react, Liara's biotics flared in a violent surge, her eyes blazing with fury. She flung the intruder backward across the hull with a force that reverberated through the ship.

"Traitorous bitch!" she screamed, her voice echoing with a raw, unrestrained rage.

The salarian ducked just in time, narrowly avoiding the body that crashed against the hold with a thunderous impact. Blue-tinted biotics crackled through the air like fierce lightning, illuminating the confined space with their eerie glow. She quickly sought refuge behind the nearest crates, her heart pounding with adrenaline. "What are you doing?!" she shouted, her voice a mix of fear and urgency.

Liara's navy-colored armor burned with the fierce light of her biotics as she stormed toward the body. Reaper, blood trickling from a gash on her head, struggled on all fours. The air was taut with tension, every muscle in Liara's body coiled like a spring, ready to unleash another devastating attack.

She sneered, her movements like a blur. "It's been some time since I've fought an asari. Usually, your kind is too busy selling the rest of the galaxy out for protection." With a brutal efficiency, Reaper vanished from Liara's sight, reappearing behind her in an instant. Her grip was like a vice as she locked Liara in a chokehold, muscles straining with raw power. "Try to use your power on me," she taunted, her voice dripping with malice. "Go ahead! Kill me!"

The asari couldn't breathe or use her biotics to stop Reaper. Panic set in as her thoughts became chaotic, each breath feeling like a desperate struggle. "What is happening to me?" she thought frantically. The slow chorus of voices filled her mind, drowning out cognitive thought. Fight or flight was suppressed, leaving her in a state of helpless terror. What in the name of the goddess is happening to her?!

Garrus stood frozen in shock, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched Liara struggle in Reaper's grip. His mind raced, filled with worry for his friend's life. The sight of Liara's desperate fight for breath, her biotics flickering weakly, tore at his resolve. Every instinct screamed at him to act, to save her, but the fear of making a wrong move and endangering her further held him back. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, muscles tensed, ready to spring into action at the first opportunity.

Jormun heard the loud thud through the bulkhead. He sprinted towards the source of the sound, his heart pounding in his chest. As he emerged from the corridor, the sight that greeted him filled him with a mix of horror and urgency. Reaper was actively trying to kill Liara, her fierce grip tightening around the asari's neck. Garrus stood nearby, his pistol aimed at Reaper, but his hand trembled, paralyzed by the fear of doing more harm than good.

Jormun shouted, his voice cracking with desperation, "Stop! Let her go!" His weapon, Ish, was ready, but he was unsure if he could reach them in time. Do'ova's scream pierced the tense air, "Somebody, help her!" The sound of Liara's strangled gasps seemed to echo in the confined space, a harrowing reminder of the life slipping away before their eyes.

Reaper's cold, determined expression showed no sign of relenting. Garrus's mind raced, torn between the overwhelming urge to save his friend and the dread of making a fatal mistake.

Garrus's eyes narrowed with fierce determination as he stepped to the right side of Reaper, his gun unwaveringly aimed at her head. "Let go. Shepard," he commanded, his voice firm and resolute. At the mention of her real name, Reaper paused, a flicker of recognition crossing her face. "My name?" she echoed, momentarily stunned.

Seizing the opportunity, Garrus fired a stun round directly at her head. For a normal person, such a shot would have caused extensive brain damage or death, but Reaper was far from normal. She was a menacing villain wearing Shepard's skin, a haunting reminder of what was lost. The brief pause granted by her recognition of her name was all Garrus needed to act decisively, driven to protect his comrades.

..................................................

An hour dragged on, feeling like an eternity aboard the ship. Jormun tried to comfort Do'ova, urging her to rest in her quarters. The weight of Satima's absence hung heavy in the air; a silent acknowledgment of a captain who would have decisively dealt with this chaos. The moral conflict gnawed at them all, as they grappled with the reality of their enemy's humanity.

Garrus sat vigilantly on a crate, his eyes fixed on the unconscious Reaper, weapon unwavering in his grasp. The battle between duty and compassion waged within him. Could he, in good conscience, end the life of someone who once was Shepard? His mind swirled with the complexities of right and wrong, justice and retribution.

The silence of the ship was a stark contrast to the turmoil within. Each creak of the hull seemed to echo the unresolved tension, urging Garrus to confront the deeper questions. What defines a hero? What transforms them into a villain? And, in a universe fraught with shades of gray, who has the right to judge?

Liara's voice cut through the silence like a knife, her words dripping with barely restrained fury. "I have no problem air-locking Reaper into space." Each syllable was a challenge, a promise of retribution.

Jormun, his face a mask of grim determination, said nothing but took his position next to Garrus, his eyes never leaving Reaper. The tension in the room was palpable, a coiled spring ready to snap. Garrus's mind raced as he weighed his options, the gravity of their situation pressing down on him like a physical weight.

After what felt like an eternity, Jormun finally tore his gaze away, muttering under his breath as he retreated to the engine room, leaving Garrus alone to face the impossible decision that lay ahead.
Garrus began to feel a dull pain in his back from sitting so long, stretching his neck to rub the sore leathery skin. Reaper finally moved, her eyes fluttering open. She groaned as she slowly rose, each movement seeming to cost her great effort.

Reaper sat looking completely confused until she spotted Garrus. Her eyes were bloodshot, and a large purple bruise formed a circle on her left temple. Lines of cybernetics trailed her face and neck, reaching up to the wound. She looked inhuman, yet the flickers of recognition and bewilderment in her eyes betrayed a struggle within. As she focused on Garrus, the tension in the room grew, the air thick with unspoken conflicts and unresolved emotions.

As an understanding began to form between them, Reaper's voice broke the silence, tinged with fatigue. "Do you really want to kill me?"

"Only if you give me no choice." Garrus's voice wavered slightly, the internal conflict evident in his tone. "I don't have time to let my personal feelings, or anyone else's, get in the way." He glared at her, but the intensity was dulled by the turmoil within him.

As Reaper raised a leg to her chest, leaning her arm on it in a casual move that was so reminiscent of the Shepard he once knew, Garrus felt a pang of regret. He looked away, struggling with the memories of the past and the reality before him. Could he really trust her? Could he live with the consequences of harming someone who bore such a striking resemblance to his old friend?

He stood, holstering his weapon, the weight of his decision pressing down on him. The line between enemy and ally blurred, leaving him questioning his own judgment.

Garrus's posture shifted, his training and instincts as an officer taking over. His eyes narrowed, scrutinizing Reaper's every move. "Are you behind Satima being taken? Do you know of this Archer?" His voice was firm, each word measured and precise, echoing the authority and discipline that had been ingrained in him over years of service.

Reaper's eyes flickered, her gaze catching the distant fighter. "You don't get it, do you? They know this ship inside and out because of me. I fed them every scrap of intel on Haven. From docking schedules to hiding spots, I mapped it all out. She was always just a step ahead, but never out of reach. The inevitable was only ever delayed, not denied."

Garrus shook his head, his mandibles flaring with anger. "What other brilliant ideas have you handed to the enemy? Perhaps instructions on how to torture innocent children?" His voice dripped with venom, every word a sharp blade aimed at Reaper's conscience.

Reaper snapped her head in his direction, her eyes brimming with pain and regret. "You don't understand. It wasn't my choice," she said, her voice trembling. "I was given orders... I had to train her. She is unique, and they knew it. I had no choice, Garrus. Every step, every decision was dictated by them. I did what I had to do to survive, to keep her safe as long as I could. But in the end, it was never up to me."

Rows of young faces. All new and vacant. Stares that were devoid of any emotion or fear surfaced quickly in her mind. She remembered the first time she met Satima, a small and fragile child yet with an aura of resilience. Choosing to give her up was the hardest decision she ever made, a choice that haunted her every waking moment and haunted her dreams as well.

Garrus paced in front of Reaper, his movements sharp and agitated. He squatted to meet her face-to-face, his voice low and menacing. "What do you mean unique? Why does HIVE want her so badly?" His avian blue eyes bore into Reaper's, demanding answers.

Reaper scoffed, a wry, short laugh escaping her lips. "Before you pulled the trigger, you called me Shepard. Do you know how that feels? To be seen as someone I'm not?" Her voice trembled slightly, the struggle within her becoming more evident. "I am Reaper, not Shepard. But sometimes, I don’t even know who I am anymore. Caught between what they made me and what I used to be."

Garrus's mind raced, trying to piece together Reaper's cryptic words. "What are you talking about? You're just a..." His voice faltered, and he couldn't finish the sentence. His eyes darted around, searching for some clue, some hint of deception.

"...a clone?" she smirked, staring at him. Spirits, those emerald eyes. Just as bright as the day she came to him, years ago. "Or maybe a walking abomination?" Her grin disturbed him.

Garrus felt the weight of her words press down on him, forcing him to confront his own doubts and fears. For a moment, he saw the flicker of an undeniable truth in her eyes. The same eyes that belonged to Shepard.
Garrus stood up, his resolve strengthening as he locked eyes with Reaper, who simultaneously rose to confront him.

"No... Garrus. I am not a clone," Reaper declared, her voice laden with unspoken burdens. She paused, a fleeting smile tinged with sorrow crossing her lips. "And neither is she," she added, almost in a whisper, as if the weight of the truth threatened to crush her.

Garrus raised an eye. "What do you mean?", he hesitantly asked.
Reaper's gaze drifted, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, as she struggled to find the right words. She took a deep breath, her voice shaking with the weight of her revelation.

Reaper's gaze drifted, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, as she struggled to find the right words. She took a deep breath, her voice shaking.

"You want to know why they want her?" she turned back to him, her face contorted in controlled pain. "Satima is my daughter. And I willingly gave her to the Reapers."

Garrus stared at her in stunned silence. The words hung heavily between them, the gravity of her confession sinking in. Reaper's shoulders slumped, the burden of her actions evident in every line of her body. She looked away, unable to meet Garrus's piercing gaze.

"Imagine watching your own flesh and blood being taken away, knowing you're the one who handed her over," she continued, her voice cracking. "Every moment, every decision, every sacrifice was for her. To keep her safe, to give her a chance. But in the end, I was the one who betrayed her."

Garrus couldn't believe it. He didn't want to. His mind raced, searching for any indication that this was some sort of trick, a lie to keep him off balance. The weight of Reaper's confession pressed down on him, suffocating in its intensity.

He backed away from her, shaking his head in disbelief, his heart pounding in his chest. The walls of the shuttle bay seemed to close in around him, and without another word, he turned and quickly left, leaving Reaper behind, alone in her sorrow.

When he reached the cockpit of Haven, Garrus slumped down hard in the pilot's chair. The holo panels and grids opened to his presence. He needed a drink but remembered accidentally leaving it at the medical station.

He hit the panel hard, staring at his balled fist. He couldn't shake the shock of Reaper's revelation. His mind raced, piecing together fragments of their encounters, trying to reconcile the woman he thought he knew with the truth she had just confessed. Garrus needed to examine what Reaper said. Is she Shepard? Just controlled? If so, how is she still so young? And the girl Satima, her daughter?

The resemblance couldn't be there, could it? Garrus pondered for a moment. Satima's red hair stood out, but plenty of humans had red hair. Then again, she wasn't entirely human, was she?

Those strange features. Her dark eyes with the teal rims and four fingers on each hand, not five. He started to mentally remember her face, how she smiled with sharp teeth.

The more he considered, the more impossible it seemed. Every detail, every oddity in Satima's appearance that he had once dismissed as mere quirks now took on a haunting significance. Could it be true? Could Satima really be connected to Reaper in more ways than he could fathom?

His mind surged with questions. If Reaper was speaking the truth, then the implications were staggering. How had he missed it? How had he, the vigilant and ever-suspicious Garrus, failed to see the pieces of the puzzle that now seemed so glaringly obvious? The thought gnawed at him, unsettling in its clarity.

Garrus’s heart raced, his breaths coming shallow and quick. He felt as if he were on the edge of a precipice, staring into an abyss of revelations that threatened to swallow him whole. How deep did the lies run? How many layers of deception had been carefully constructed around them all?

His thoughts were a chaotic whirl, struggling to grasp at any semblance of truth amidst the maelstrom. He had always believed in his ability to ferret out deception, to see through the veils of subterfuge. But now, faced with Reaper's confession, he felt adrift, cast into uncharted waters with no compass to guide him.

Garrus ran a hand through his fringe, the gesture one of sheer frustration. He had to know more. He had to understand the full scope of what Reaper had revealed, and what it meant for all of them.

Determined to uncover the truth, Garrus sprang to his feet and dashed towards the cargo hold. There, he found Reaper sitting on an old crate, her eyes lost in a distant, troubled world. The gravity of her confession still weighed heavily on him, and the urge to confront her once more grew stronger with each passing second.

He approached her cautiously, each step laden with the weight of uncertainty. In the dimly lit doorway, hidden from view yet keenly observant, Do'ova peeked and listened, her heart pounding in anticipation.

"You say she's your daughter? How is that possible?" Garrus panted, the urgency of his questions mirrored in his breathless voice.

Reaper's eyes locked onto Garrus's, her voice trembling with the weight of her revelation. "My genetic template... The Directive didn't just create me. They gave me purpose, power, and ultimately, control."

Garrus paced back and forth, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him like a physical burden. "All this time you and I have been fighting... meeting to end each other over and over for the past decade. I thought you were a clone or some kind of... reaper tech," he stood intensely looking at her, his voice laden with a mix of anger, confusion, and sorrow.

The turmoil inside him was evident in the way his hands clenched and unclenched, his heart pounding as he grappled with the weight of this new reality.

She calmly gazed at him. "Of course, I'm Reaper tech. I was Reaper tech when we met on Omega. But it runs deeper than that," Reaper stepped off the crate and walked a few steps away from Garrus. She stopped, feeling conflicted between the truth and the control imposed on her. "It was Cerberus-HIVE. They were the ones who intervened. They saw the potential in using Reaper technology to create something—or someone—who could be a weapon and a savior. They didn't just save me; they remade me. And they used me to further their own ends."

Her voice grew more somber as she continued, "I was a tool, a puppet. They manipulated my mind, my actions, even my memories. They used genetic engineering, cybernetic implants, and psychological conditioning to mold me into what they needed. In the process, they also created Satima. She was meant to be a successor, an improvement. But at her core, she is still my daughter, and I couldn't destroy her."

Reaper's eyes met Garrus's with a mix of sorrow and resolve. "I tried to give her freedom, a chance to escape from being another pawn in their plans. But the Directive's hold was too strong, and they regained control. My thoughts, my actions... they were never entirely my own. And now, I am here, trying to atone for all the things I did while under their control, and for the part I played in bringing Satima into this world."
She looked down at her hands in shame, her voice barely a whisper, "They turned us into weapons."

Garrus shook his head, "But the Lazarus project only brought you back with minimal implants. To... give you an edge. That's what Miranda told you, that's what... she told me!" His mind reeled as he grappled with the conflicting pieces of information.

The Lazarus project had always been shrouded in secrecy, but he had trusted that it was meant to revive and enhance, not control. Miranda had assured him that the implants were limited, just enough to restore functionality and provide an advantage. Yet, here was Reaper, revealing a deeper, more insidious manipulation.

He felt a profound sense of betrayal as he recalled the assurances given by Miranda and the others involved in the project. Had they known all along about the true extent of the modifications? Had they been complicit in the Directive's hidden agenda? The uncertainty gnawed at him, making him question everything he had believed about the mission and the people he had trusted.

Garrus's thoughts were a tangled web of confusion and doubt. The lines between ally and enemy blurred as he tried to make sense of the revelations. If Reaper had been manipulated so thoroughly, what did that mean for the others who had undergone similar procedures? Was anyone truly free from the Directive's influence? The very foundation of his understanding seemed to crumble beneath him, leaving him adrift in a sea of uncertainty.

He struggled to reconcile the person he had known with the truth that was now unfolding. Reaper's confession cast a shadow over their past encounters, each battle and confrontation taking on new, ominous meanings. The realization that they had been pawns in a larger game was almost too much to bear.

Garrus felt the weight of his own failures pressing down on him. How had he missed the signs? How had he not seen the threads of manipulation woven through their lives? The questions echoed in his mind, a relentless reminder of his own perceived inadequacies. As he stood there, facing Reaper, he couldn't help but wonder if he would ever truly understand the full scope of what had been done to them all.

"It was just the start of a vicious lie, Garrus," Reaper replied, her voice firm and resolute. She straightened; her gaze unwavering. "I've come here to atone, and this ends now."

"For what?", he stood staring at the empty spot on the crate as he asked his question. His eyes narrowed and his voice softened, curiosity threading through his words, “What else haven't you told me?"

Reaper walked around, her movements filled with agitation. "For what I did. They may have helped in the creation of Satima, but I could've ended it for us both long ago. If I only fought them. But how could I?", she turned to face him, her eyes burning with intensity.

Garrus's gaze pierced through the emptiness of the room, landing on Reaper's face, which was etched with a profound sorrow. Her eyes began to water, reflecting the torment within. She took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady herself amidst the emotional storm.

"We are both the same. I helped free Satima to give her a chance at life away from the Directive but... they regained control again. My thoughts were not my own," Reaper looked down at her hands in shame, her voice trembling. "Every decision I made was a war within me. To protect her, to fight them, to try and reclaim my own mind. Each step was laden with the fear of losing myself or losing her. I couldn't bear the thought of her becoming what I was—a weapon. Yet, every action seemed to draw us deeper into their control. It was a relentless struggle, and I failed her. I failed us both."

Garrus felt a wave of emotional toil inside his body. A voice in the back of his mind was telling him to not believe it, but his gut... that instinctual feeling, told him otherwise. His thoughts swirled in a whirlwind of doubt and disbelief, struggling to piece together the fragments of truth from Reaper's revelation.

The only other question remained. What other species, if any, was Satima's DNA merged with?

....................................................................

As Haven entered the Sol system, Garrus summoned the crew to the small, dimly lit command room. The HIVE, with its ominous presence, loomed in the distance, casting an eerie shadow over their mission. Hovering cautiously at the edge of the system, Jormun skillfully reduced Haven's thrusters, ensuring they emitted minimal heat to avoid detection. Tension hung thick in the air, each member of the crew acutely aware of the high stakes ahead.

Directive gunships and fighters patrolled ominously around the dwarf planet, Pluto, as they inched closer to the station. Every nerve in his body was taut with anxiety, the sweat trickling down his spine to his apprehension. The plan to rescue Satima was audacious, and the margin for error was razor-thin.

As they crept forward, Garrus's mind raced, replaying every detail of the strategy, hoping desperately that nothing would go wrong. The sense of impending danger was evident, each moment stretching thin with the weight of their mission.

Do'ova stayed to the side, her instincts on high alert as she watched Jormun. Reaper's presence was a constant reminder of the Directive's terror, her cybernetics a stark testament to their relentless control.

Tension crackled in the air like static as Liara's threats echoed through the room. She demanded Reaper's removal, if not her death. Garrus, his voice a growl, stood firm. "Reaper stays," he asserted, the words like stones. "We need her alive to find Satima." The room fell silent as the weight of their mission pressed down on them. Jormun, responding to an earlier comm call, joined them in the small mess, his presence adding to the charged atmosphere.

As he entered, Liara was arguing with Garrus again. Reaper sat on the floor in the corner, so much like Satima used to do before she was taken.
"ABSOLUTELY NOT! There is no way I'm trusting that monster with a weapon!" Liara yelled, her voice echoing through the cramped space. Her eyes were fixed on Reaper, burning with anger and distrust.

Garrus leaned in closer, his face inches from Liara's. "You don't get to make that decision, Liara. We need her, whether you like it or not!" His voice was a low growl, every word laced with frustration.

Liara's fists clenched at her sides, her knuckles a paler blue. "And what if she turns on us? What if this is all just another one of their traps?" Her voice was trembling now, a mix of fear and fury.

Reaper, from her corner, looked up, her face a mask of pain. "I understand your distrust, Liara. But I swear, I only want to save Satima."

Liara's gaze shifted to Garrus, her eyes narrowing. "And what if you're wrong? What if she's been compromised?"

Garrus slammed his fist on the table, the sound reverberating through the room. "Enough! We don't have time for this. We either trust each other, or we fail."

The room fell into a heavy silence, the weight of the mission pressing down on them all.

Liara crossed her arms, her eyes burning with a calm fury. She glared at Garrus, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "Then I'm staying here. I'll monitor the ship and wait for you."

Jormun didn't like the sound of that. "No!" he exclaimed, storming in with a fierce determination.

"Jormun," Garrus began, but Jormun cut him off, his voice rising in urgency.

"What if she steals the ship? Or turns us in?" Jormun demanded, stepping between Liara and Garrus, his finger pointing accusatorily at Liara.

"Jormun!" Garrus shouted, his voice booming through the tense atmosphere.

Everyone became silent as Reaper looked up. Do'ova had kept quiet, but she didn't like the anger emanating from the asari. There was bad blood all around, and no one wanted to be betrayed by the other. With a resolute tone, Do'ova stepped forward, her eyes unwavering. "I'll stay behind with her. We'll work together to keep Haven away from the scouter ships," she declared, her voice carrying a firm commitment. "She won't steal the ship, not on my watch."

Garrus rubbed his sore temples, a wave of exasperation washing over him. The small plates underneath his touch felt too pliable, a reminder of how swiftly old age was creeping up on him amidst his pursuit of revenge. "We'll have enough help already on the station, it's a good idea. Thank you, Do'ova." His words were measured, but he couldn't shake off the sense of relief that someone was finally acting responsibly. He could feel the raging glare coming from Liara, but it didn't matter. The mission depended on responsible, not emotional, people, and right now, Liara was neither.

Garrus leaned in, his eyes boring into Liara's with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. "Wait for my signal and pick us up," he said, his voice dangerously low. "If you so much as think about betraying us because of Reaper, you'll wish you'd never set foot on this ship." The unspoken threat hung heavily in the air, leaving no room for doubt about the consequences.

"I won't do that. I'll be waiting, I swear," she said, her tone resolute. But inside, Liara was reeling from the sudden shift in their friendship. It stung deeply that Garrus, who once trusted her with his life, now placed his faith in Reaper, a supposed Shepard clone. Liara had hoped Garrus would see through the deception. The betrayal she felt was overwhelming. She promised to help rescue Satima, but she couldn't promise how she would handle Reaper. The rift between her and Garrus, once a bond of unbreakable trust, now felt like an unbridgeable chasm.

As Garrus stood in the dimly lit cargo bay, he couldn't shake off the heavy weight of regret that settled on his shoulders. Memories of countless battles fought side by side with Liara flooded his mind. Back then, their bond was unbreakable, a friendship forged in the crucible of war and tempered by trust.

But now, that trust was shattered, splintered by the presence of Reaper. This supposed copy of Shepard had driven a wedge between them, exacerbating the rift that had been growing ever since her arrival.
He glanced at the empty space where Liara had stood moments before, her absence a stark reminder of the chasm that now separated them. Garrus clenched his jaw, his mandibles twitching with frustration.

The thought of losing Liara, not to death but to distrust, gnawed at him. Garrus had always prided himself on his loyalty, on being someone his friends could count on. But now, with Reaper's shadow looming over them, he felt that loyalty being tested in ways he had never anticipated.

In the end, Garrus knew that the mission had to come first. They couldn't afford to let personal feelings jeopardize their chances of success. But as he prepared to face the challenges ahead, a pang of sorrow pierced his heart. The cost of their fractured friendship was a burden he would carry with him, a silent lament for what once was and what could never be again.

As he reflected, the thought of what to do with Reaper should their rescue of Satima be successful came to mind. The plan was clear, yet it brought no solace. After Satima is back on board Haven, safe and in one piece, he'll convince Reaper to follow him to the fighter. With her guard down, he'll take her life.

The weight of this decision pressed heavily on his heart. Satima doesn't know the truth. In a cruel and twisted way, he's protecting her from it. No one wants a villain for a parent. The thought of what he must do to Reaper, who bears the visage of Shepard, filled him with profound sorrow. He felt like a traitor to his own values, knowing that to save one life, he must extinguish another. The burden of this choice was a silent torment, a testimony to the unimaginable costs of their mission.

Reaper stared at Liara, her mind racing with suspicion. She could see the slight glances between Liara and Garrus, and it gnawed at her. Was there something more between them? Had they been involved behind her back? Every small gesture, every knowing look between them fed her paranoia. Should she have killed the weak asari when she had the chance? Garrus was hers once, but now... She shook off the intrusive thoughts. Satima was more important right now.

With that taken care of, it was time to suit up. Garrus looked at Reaper, his gaze sharp and unyielding. Their eyes locked, and the air between them crackled with unresolved tension. "Get ready," he ordered.

She nodded and left for the cargo bay. The room seemed to close in around Garrus, the silence becoming suffocating. With each passing second, a new wave of doubt and anxiety washed over him. "Satima, you better be alive," he murmured to the empty room, his voice strained with desperation. The upcoming mission's stakes had never been higher, and the cost of failure was too great to even contemplate.

........................................................

The fighter departed from the cargo bay of Haven. Do'ova, steadfast in their post, managed the pilot control center and stayed behind, following the orbit of one of Jupiter's moons. Meanwhile, Liara paced anxiously in the mess hall, her mind racing with concern for the upcoming mission.

Garrus piloted the fighter with Jormun and Reaper on board towards the daunting HIVE station. They would need to find a landing zone out of the way from the main docking hubs. Away from more soldiers.

Garrus navigated the fighter with Jormun and Reaper on board, speeding towards the formidable HIVE station. Ahead lay the shadows of the main docking hubs, teeming with potential threats. They needed to find a landing zone out of sight. The tension in the cockpit was rising as they closed in on their target, every second ticking away with the weight of their rescue.

"There's no one in the dock or patrolling. This could be an ambush," Garrus said, steering the fighter to the underbelly of the station.
"Stay sharp and ready for anything," Reaper commanded, her voice firm as she secured her helmet.

Jormun quickly programmed the auto-controls and hurried to join the team at the emergency hatch. The fighter hovered ominously in place as they boarded the station through a hidden port door. The room around them was pitch black, and as they switched on their lights, shadows danced menacingly across the walls. A sense of dread filled the air.

"It's quiet," Jormun carefully walked beside Garrus.

Reaper moved forward, the silence pressing in on her as she mentally mapped out their route. "The Data Mainframe is four levels up, past the science stations. Garrus, if things go sideways, you need to take Satima back to the Haven and get out of here," she instructed, her tone leaving no room for argument. She quickened her pace, her mind laser-focused.

Garrus's gaze sharpened as he questioned her urgently, "Where are you going?"

"To uncover some answers and find Satima. You need to get her out safely," Reaper whispered before vanishing into the shadows.

Garrus stood, a scowl forming on his face as Reaper vanished into the shadows. Frustration bubbled up inside him, feeling the weight of responsibility suddenly thrust upon him. He clenched his fists, muttering under his breath, "Great."

"She'll be alright, won't she?" Jormun's voice wavered slightly, betraying his worry.

Garrus offered him a reassuring nod. "Yeah," he said, his voice steady with conviction. "Reaper's always been able to handle herself."

The first level was eerily silent, the air thick with anticipation. Shadows seemed to move at the edges of their vision, playing tricks on their minds. Garrus took point, his keen eyes scanning every corner for any sign of movement, his muscles tensed and ready for action.

The cold metal walls of the underbelly of the station were oppressive, absorbing the scant light and giving no hint of what lay beyond.

Jormun's heart pounded in his chest, the darkness pressing in on him from all sides. The silence was almost deafening, broken only by the soft hum of the station's machinery. The sense of dread was palpable, making every step feel like a march towards an unknown fate.

Garrus finally spotted the door to the second-level elevator. He gestured for Jormun to follow, his taloned hand hovering over his weapon, ready for any sudden attack.

"Stay close and keep your eyes open," Garrus instructed, his voice barely more than a whisper, the tension evident in every word.

Jormun nodded, his eyes darting around nervously. The unknown loomed large before them, every shadow a potential threat.

As they approached the elevator, Garrus could sense Jormun's anxiety. He tried to offer a reassuring glance, but his own uncertainty mirrored in his eyes.

The door slid open with a soft hiss, revealing the dimly lit interior of the elevator. They stepped inside, the small space feeling even more confining in the oppressive darkness. Garrus hit the panel, and the elevator began its slow ascent, the clanking of the machinery echoing ominously in the confined space.

Every second felt like an eternity as they waited, the tension mounting with each passing moment.

The lift stopped on a floor that led through a corridor with several alcoves bathed in darkness. They reluctantly followed, hoping to find another way out. Ahead of their doomed trek, Garrus spotted a large elevator.

"Jormun. Don't lag behind," Garrus held the elevator open, already inside. They both stepped in, and Garrus punched the panel. It lifted past the third floor.

The lift halted, and the doors slid open to reveal a dimly lit corridor lined with shadowy alcoves. Every step they took echoed with a sense of foreboding as they moved cautiously forward, hoping to find another way out.

Ahead, Garrus's sharp eyes caught sight of a larger elevator. "Jormun, keep up," he called, holding the door open as Jormun stepped inside.

"I managed to hack into the fourth level. It'll lead you back to the fighter. You need to secure our exit. Got it?"

Jormun looked frustrated. "What? No way! I'm going with you to find Satima!"

Garrus shook his head firmly. "Listen, I understand how much she means to you. But you have to trust me. I’ve been through countless missions. I’ll bring her back, I promise."

Garrus placed a reassuring taloned hand on Jormun's shoulder. The quarian sighed, slumping slightly as he nodded in reluctant agreement. He watched as Garrus left him inside the elevator.

"I hope he knows what he's doing," Jormun muttered, slamming the panel in frustration.

Jormun waited as the elevator descended, heart pounding with each passing second. At the third level, it jolted to a sudden stop.

"Must be the encryption he used. It might have run out," Jormun muttered, hastily putting Ish away to hack at the panel, beads of sweat forming on his forehead inside hit helmet.

Before he could react, the door slid open to reveal a sentinel, its dark, towering figure looming ominously in the dim light.

"KEELAH!" Jormun screamed as the sentinel's weapon swung down with crushing force. He barely ducked in time, the weapon smashing into the wall behind him, sending shards of metal flying.

Thinking quickly, Jormun squeezed through the giant's legs, feeling the heat radiating from its mechanical body. He sprinted toward the hatch entrance, but his heart sank as he saw it surrounded by directive soldiers. He slid to a stop, his mind racing.

To his left, a narrow corridor offered a sliver of hope. Without hesitation, Jormun darted down the corridor, glancing over his shoulder at the pursuing soldiers. He needed to lose them to have any chance of reaching the fighter. Desperately, he tried to contact Garrus, but his comms were jammed.

"Keelah, I hope he finds her fast!" he whispered, his breath ragged as he weaved through the dimly lit passageways, the sound of footsteps echoing behind him. Each step was a race against time, a desperate bid for survival, and Jormun knew he couldn't afford to falter now.
…..

On the fifth level, Reaper frantically typed in the encryption keys at the data terminal, her fingers trembling with urgency. She needed answers now. Every second counted, every breath felt stolen. The screen remained blank. No recorded entries. Deleted or never entered? The uncertainty gnawed at her insides. She had to dig deeper, faster. The oppressive darkness of the room pressed in on her, heightening her anxiety.
"...alliance..."

There it was. Reaper's heart raced as she punched in the code, anxious to see what secrets would be unveiled. The screen came alive with a cascade of data packets, making her pulse quicken with each line that scrolled by. The mainframe conduit in front of her blazed to life, casting a bright yellow glow that danced across every surface. This was just one of many terminals, each holding the data of every Directive outpost, station, and vessel. Each piece a key to a much larger, ominous puzzle.

"...Shepard...Charlotte...inquire... N7...subject Reaper...Subject Satima."

Reaper's eyes locked onto the screen, where scenes from her past training sessions started to unfold. One particular session caught her attention. It depicted a fighting ring in a massive, dimly lit room, shrouded in an eerie silence.

Satima stood at the center with a group of other children, their faces devoid of emotion. Clad in grey undersuits, the glint of cybernetic enhancements was visible on some of them, reflecting the stark, unforgiving light of the room. Her heart ached with the memories as she continued to watch, compelled to confront the shadows of her past.

Reaper's gaze fixated on the screen, her breath quickening as the scene unfolded before her eyes. The fighting ring was a stark, brutal arena, dimly lit by overhead lights casting elongated shadows that danced across the cold, unforgiving floor. The air seemed heavy, laden with the metallic tang of blood and the palpable tension of imminent violence.

Satima moved with lethal precision as she engaged with the soldiers. The children's faces, once void of emotion, now reflected sheer determination and fear as they fought for their lives. Each strike, each dodge was a desperate bid for survival, a testament to their harsh training and the cruel reality they had been thrust into.

Three of the seven contenders who stood with her remained. They huddled together, forging a resilient team. Their unity in movement was synchronized; each strike evident to their collective strength. It was this cohesion that made their stand not only strategic but also profoundly inspiring.

Reaper's heart pounded as she saw herself on the screen, stepping into the ring to meet them. Her signal to the three was sharp, and they encircled Satima with a predatory grace. The tension was suffocating. Satima was down, and the air crackled with anticipation.

Determination flared in Satima's eyes as she faced her opponents. She moved with a fierce, unyielding resolve, each motion calculated and driven by the primal instinct to survive. The combat blade in her hand became an extension of her will, slicing through the air with deadly precision. When she slit the young girl's throat, she didn't hesitate; the brutal act was a testament to her unwavering focus on the fight.

The last contender stood defiant, a towering male whose menacing presence was amplified by the glowing cybernetics embedded in his body. His eyes, filled with unbridled rage, locked onto Satima as he charged with thunderous steps. She waited, her movements calculated and precise. At the last moment, she sidestepped, delivering a powerful blow to the back of his knee. The male stumbled, and in an instant, Satima seized a fallen pistol and fired.

Reaper stood over the chaotic display with a satisfactory smile. She removed the pistol from Satima’s small hand and ended the recording.

As the scene ended, a wave of disgust washed over Reaper. She couldn't believe the person she once was – a cold, calculated weapon shaped by ruthless training and merciless conditioning. The brutal reality of her past actions, the lives she had taken without hesitation, now burdened her conscience like a heavy shroud. Each memory replayed in her mind, a haunting reminder of the monster she had molded Satima into. The satisfaction she once felt was now replaced by a profound sense of regret and self-loathing.

In the bottom, right corner of the video was recorded input.
"Subject ready..."

She downloaded all the data, knowing that Satima might not remember the horrors she had endured. The brutal training, the cold conditioning, and the heartless acts she was forced to commit.

The holo-grid lit up in the corner. An image of a man appeared, but his face was clouded in shadow. Grey-blue eyes shone through the haze, and a myriad of voices came through.

"You cannot leave my control. You are bound to our cause."

The room seemed to constrict around Reaper as the shadow man's presence grew. The air turned thick with an oppressive weight, making it hard to breathe. Every corner of the room darkened, the once-bright yellow glow from the mainframe conduit now a muted whisper of light struggling against encroaching darkness.
Reaper shook her head violently, desperately trying to silence the haunting voices that echoed in her mind, like ghosts from her tormented past.

“We created you to serve. Defiance ends in death."

Suddenly, the blaring alarms pierced through the oppressive silence, yanking Reaper out of her turbulent thoughts. Adrenaline surged through her veins as she swiftly uploaded the critical file.
Without wasting a second, Reaper sprinted to the elevator, her fingers dancing frantically across the panel as she stabbed the button for the second level. The realization hit her like a lightning bolt—he was here.
...........................................................................

Garrus cautiously advanced, his eyes scanning every shadow, every corner, anticipating danger at every step. His omni-tool crackled to life, receiving a garbled message from Jormun. Panic surged, but he forced it down, steeling himself for what lay ahead.

Up ahead, the unmistakable sounds of a struggle reached his ears—someone gasping, then a thud. He turned the corner and quickly brought out his rifle to see Reaper holding a combat knife dripping with dark blood. Two soldiers are dead on the floor.

She met his gaze, her eyes reflecting a mixture of resolve and secrecy. Garrus approached her cautiously, curiosity evident in his every step. "I thought you were helping to find Satima?" he inquired, his voice tinged with suspicion.

"I am. She's through here," Reaper gestured to an alcove containing a heavily secured door, surrounded by multiple security clearance panels. Her eyes flickered with determination, as if she was about to unlock a secret that had been buried for too long.

Garrus sighed in annoyance. Reaper approached a panel and quickly typed a sequence. "Relax, Garrus. I've got this under control. This was my home for twenty years." The door slid open.

"All this time?" Garrus said quietly, concern etched on his features.

She checked for enemies, then glanced at him. "All this time."

They entered weapons up, targeting the dark corners that shadowed every step. Deeper in the station, a sense of horror had stricken them.
Garrus couldn't shake it. Every ounce of confidence and nerve had vanished into thin air. Reaper’s hand trembled for a split second.

"We have to continue. It's the Directive's ability. Indoctrination, it was called. He is hard to resist," she pushed on, her voice tinged with unease, leading the way.

Garrus shook his head and gulped. He walked with heavy steps to escape the dreaded hallway. He? What the hell is going on?

Eventually, they ended up at another door. Reaper stopped abruptly in front of it, a flicker of doubt crossing her face.

"What's wrong?" Garrus asked, his voice barely masking the tension as he glanced back at the oppressive darkness closing in on them.

"If I scan my retina, they'll know we are here. And who we're here for," Reaper stared at him, her green eyes reflecting a mixture of resolve and fear.

Garrus felt the weight of the decision pressing down on them. He knew what it meant—they would be swarmed, overwhelmed, their mission possibly doomed. Memories of being overwhelmed on the Citadel, the collector ship, and at the beam flashed through his mind. But this was different. This was Satima.

"Do it," he ordered, his voice steady despite the pounding of his heart.
Reaper's hand trembled as she approached the scanner, the enormity of the risk almost paralyzing her. She glanced back at Garrus one last time, seeking reassurance. His nod was firm, but the worry in his eyes was unmistakable.

Taking a deep breath, Reaper pressed her eye to the scanner. The device beeped, and the door slowly slid open, revealing the darkness beyond.

As the door creaked open, a sudden movement from the ceiling caught their attention. Jormun dropped down with cat-like agility, hitting the floor with a soft thud. He stood up, visibly shaken, his shotgun darting around the room as if expecting an ambush.

"By the ancestors, I thought I was a goner!" he exclaimed, his voice filled with a mixture of relief and lingering fear. "A sentinel nearly got me, and then those damn Directive soldiers at the hatch... I barely escaped with my life. I had to hide in an alcove for what felt like an eternity. And then, I found myself here."

Garrus and Reaper exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of astonishment and admiration. He laughed to himself as he slapped Jormun on the back.
"You did good kid."

Jormun's expression remained alarmed, the humor clearly lost on him.

The room they entered was stark white, with the center showing an examination chair and someone strapped to it. Slowly approaching it, they saw it was Satima. Her head was slumped over.

Garrus and Reaper's breath caught in their throats as they took in the sight. Many injection sites covered her bare arms and neck, the signs of relentless experimentation. The once vibrant light in Satima's eyes had dimmed, now replaced by an eerie stillness.

Reaper recognized the room as she observed her daughter in the medical undersuit, horror and anguish etched across her face. Satima made no sound.

Jormun scanned her frantically. "She's unresponsive!"

Reaper gently lifted the girl's head, her touch tender and filled with a mother's love. She wiped away the cold sweat from Satima's alien forehead, her hands trembling slightly. The metal straps were carefully removed, and Satima fell forward into Reaper's waiting arms.

Reaper cradled her daughter close, whispering apologies of the recent events.

Garrus watched, his heart heavy with concern, as he saw the depths of Reaper's maternal instincts unfold before him. The way she held Satima, with such care and protectiveness, made him feel both admiration and a deeper sense of urgency.

The grey body armor on Reaper pulsated a pale blue in sync with her emotions, a visual to the love and fear coursing through her. Garrus knew they had to move quickly, but he also understood the importance of this moment for Reaper and Satima.

"We have to go." Garrus leaned over them as he spoke to Reaper. She nodded.

Jormun leaned down next to them. "May I take her?" he pleaded with them.

She looked down at Satima and back to Jormun. "Yes, but... be careful."

Reaper helped Jormun hold Satima until he maintained his balance. Garrus scanned the room for an exit.
..............................
The Directive sent Archer to intercept them, determined to protect his precious genetic templates at any cost. In the shadowed depths of the Omega relay, a figure watched from a clandestine station, eyes fixed on the unfolding drama.

She’s resisted before, but in the end, Shepard always succumbs.

.................................

In the midst of the confusion, Reaper's sharp eyes caught a flicker of movement. Satima, shaky but resolute, was making her way away from the firefight. She seemed guided by an unseen force, her steps directed with an eerie precision towards a side corridor that offered a potential escape.

"Satima!" Reaper called out, her voice urgent but filled with a mix of relief and determination. The faint light at the end of the corridor promised safety, and Reaper realized that Satima might have stumbled upon their way out.

"Follow her! This way!" Reaper shouted to Garrus and Jormun, her voice slicing through the chaos. She motioned for them to cover Satima as they began to fall back towards the corridor, each step a calculated retreat under fire.

Garrus and Jormun, recognizing the urgency in Reaper's voice, quickly adapted. Garrus's precision shots kept the advancing soldiers at bay.  

Garrus and Jormun raced to catch up with Reaper, who was hot on Satima's trail. They ascended to a new level, one cloaked in shadow and eerie luminescence. The higher hull walls were lined with rows upon rows of stasis pods, each containing a dormant figure. The space was filled with stasis terminals, medical computer stations, and an array of ominous lab equipment, all arranged in meticulous corners.

Bizarrely, there was no one around. As Reaper walked past rows of stasis pods, her eyes caught sight of a figure that made her blood run cold. It was a male, but the resemblance to Satima was unmistakable. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her mind screamed in alarm. Were there two of them? She distinctly remembered only one growth pod. Questions and dread flooded her thoughts as she tried to process the impossible sight before her.

Her mind was a storm of confusion, trapped between the silent voice and fractured memories. Every glance at the figure in the pod sparked a new wave of doubt and indecision. Had she known of another hybrid child like Satima? The memories were hazy, overlapping with snippets of shadows giving orders, the reformation, and her own ascension. Reaper could only watch as her past and present collided, leaving her to question everything she thought she knew. Shepard became a distant dream, blurred by the whirlwind of her thoughts.

Satima stood in the stark, grey room, her eyes catching on a lab coat draped over a nearby chair. She grabbed it, pulling it around her for warmth. As she did, fragmented memories of the place started to flicker in her mind, like ghostly apparitions. Each step she took echoed with a haunting familiarity, a reminder of a past she could barely grasp.

"They take people and turn them into slaves," she whispered, her voice tinged with a chilling realization. Satima walked forward, her eyes fixed on one of the pods, deliberately disregarding the one with the ginger-haired male that bore her resemblance. "An endless army. All controlled. They don't feel pain; they never get tired. And this nightmare never ends!"

As the truth dawned on her, a sense of eerie familiarity washed over Satima. The ominous silence in the room heightened the suspense, each second stretching into an eternity as she grappled with the horrifying revelation. The figure in the pod was a distraction she couldn't afford; her survival was too critical to be derailed by the uncanny doppelgänger.

Reaper watched Satima contemplate with worry. Her eyes darted to the stasis pods and the glaring truth before them, the tension in the air thickening with each passing second. Memories of her first assignment flooded back, each one more haunting than the last.

She remembered the small faces shoved into crates, taken to this place to be reformed into something unrecognizable. The weight of her past actions bore down on her, and the responsibility she felt for Satima grew heavier. Reaper's heart ached as she recalled the directives orders that had led to this moment.

"My first assignment was to bring order. Make an army," she muttered to herself, the words feeling like a confession.

Each step she took around the room seemed to echo with the cries of those she had failed to protect. The sight of the stasis pods, each one a reminder of the lives altered and the innocence lost, intensified the dread in her heart. Reaper's concern for Satima was visible, and the tension between them was almost unbearable as they faced the harsh reality of their pasts.

Satima turned to Reaper, her eyes blazing with a mixture of anguish and fury. "Who was I before? Did you rip me from a family too?", she demanded, her voice quivering with raw emotion. "Did you tear me away from people who loved me?"

Jormun tried to talk to Satima, but Garrus swiftly intervened. "Don't," he commanded, his voice tinged with urgency. Whatever truth was about to be unearthed, Satima needed to hear it without interference. Shepard was still buried deep within, struggling to resurface. The revelation of this place and her transformation hung precariously in the balance, a single sentence away from shattering their current reality.

Satima's eyes welled up with tears, her vision blurring as she tried to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions. "I'm not human, am I? Or was I ever truly human?" she choked out, her voice breaking with each word. The anguish in her heart was raw and searing pain that made her chest feel like it was being torn apart. "They put something in me. Changed me. Who am I, really?"

Her tears flowed freely now, each drop a manifestation of the turmoil within her.

Reaper took a deep breath, the weight of the truth pressing down on her. "Satima," she began, her voice trembling slightly, "your genetic makeup has been altered. The Directive harvested my DNA and mixed it with alien DNA markers. They wanted to create something unique, something powerful."

Satima's eyes widened in horror, but she remained silent, urging Reaper to continue.

"After they ran out of the alien DNA, they started injecting you with mutative serums laced with Reaper technology," Reaper explained, each word cutting deeper into the silence between them. "These serums enhanced your genetic template, giving you abilities and traits beyond human limits."

Reaper paused, her gaze dropping to the floor. "Sixteen years of experiments, countless procedures... all of it was to mold you into what you are now. They revived you from stasis to turn you into their ultimate weapon."

Tears welled up in Satima's eyes as she struggled to process the revelation. "So, I'm nothing more than their experiment? A weapon?"

Reaper shook her head, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "No, Satima. You are more than just an experiment. You are my daughter. I tried to save you from becoming their pawn."

The room fell silent, the air thick with the weight of the truth that had finally been spoken. Satima's mind raced, the pieces of her past clicking into place with painful clarity.

Reaper's breath hitched as realization dawned upon her. Archer's insidious messages had always echoed in her mind, reminding her daily of what Satima truly was. His project, his twisted gift to her. A disturbing tether binding her to their malicious cause.

"Sixteen years of sick experiments your precious Directive did to me," Satima spat, her voice trembling with anger. "And you, instead of stopping them, you helped me escape. Why? If I was so important for your army, why did you let me go?" Her emotions surged, a mix of fury and bewilderment evident in her eyes.

Reaper looked down in horrible shame. "I didn't understand what I was feeling then, but I knew you deserved a life. I spent years following orders, turning a blind eye to the horrors I committed against you. But knowing what they had planned, it broke something inside me. I had to save you, even if it meant losing myself to them."

Satima couldn't contain her emotions anymore. "Then why didn't you kill me?! Why go through all this trouble to save me if I was just meant to be their weapon? It doesn't make sense!"

Reaper looked up, her eyes shining with a mix of pain and determination. "I couldn't, Satima. No matter how you were created, you are my daughter. My responsibility. I want to help you, to protect you from the horrors they've inflicted. I couldn't let them turn you into a weapon, not when I knew you deserved a chance at life."

Hot tears began to stream down Satima's face, her body trembling with the weight of Reaper's words. "No," she whispered, recoiling as if struck. She fell to her knees, burying her face in her hands as sobs wracked her frame. "Please, no."

The horrifying truth clawed at her mind, tearing apart the fragile identity she had built for herself. Every memory, every moment of her existence now felt tainted, a cruel joke played by those who saw her as nothing more than a tool.

Satima lifted her tear-streaked face, her eyes locking onto Reaper's. There was something undeniable in Reaper's gaze, a painful sincerity that cut through the shock and disbelief. "You... you're my mother?" The words tasted bitter on her tongue, the concept foreign and terrifying.

Reaper's expression mirrored Satima's anguish, her own tears glistening unshed. "Yes, Satima. I am your mother. And I fought to save you from their clutches because you deserve more than this."

The revelation shattered Satima's perception of herself, her very essence crumbling under the weight of this newfound reality. She had always felt different, out of place, but now she understood why. She wasn't just different; she was a product of twisted experimentation, a living testament to the depths of cruelty and ambition.

The room seemed to close in around her, the air thick and suffocating. Satima's mind raced, the pieces of her past clicking into place with painful clarity. Her entire life, every struggle, every hope, had been manipulated by unseen hands.

"No," she sobbed again, her voice breaking. "I can't be just an experiment, a weapon. I can't."

Reaper knelt beside her, her presence a grounding force amidst the chaos. "You are more than that, Satima. You are my daughter, and I will do everything in my power to help you.”

Satima’s expression twisted with sudden fury, her eyes blazing as she recoiled from Reaper. "Don’t touch me!" she screamed, her voice cracking with raw emotion. The air around them seemed to vibrate with the intensity of her anger, tension enveloping the room.

Reaper took a step back, her heart heavy with the weight of Satima's anguish. Allowing her daughter space was the least she could do amidst the tempest of emotion that swirled between them. "Satima," she began softly, her voice a tender whisper against the storm, "you are more than the sum of your origins."

Garrus walked to Reaper, his eyes wide with worry and disbelief as he cast a furtive glance at Satima. "Is all of this true?" he demanded, his voice barely a whisper. Reaper's solemn nod sent a shiver down his spine. He lowered his rifle slowly, the weight of the revelation pressing down on him. This was beyond anything he had ever imagined.

"But what about the other DNA?" Garrus's voice was taut with suspicion as he pointed at Satima's hands, his eyes narrowing. "She's not entirely human. What other species did they violate to create her?" The tension in the room thickened, every word dripping with the weight of Garrus's disbelief and curiosity.

Satima dried her eyes quickly. As she stood, Reaper's expression hardened. "Garrus, you need to look closer," she demanded, her voice a mix of anger and urgency. "You can't deny what's right in front of you." She stepped closer to him, pointing at Satima with a trembling hand. "Look at her, really look."

Garrus hesitated, his eyes flickering between Reaper's fierce determination and Satima's vulnerable form. "Reaper, I..." he started, but was cut off.

"Do it," Reaper insisted, her voice rising. "Use those instincts you always prided yourself on. See her for who she truly is."

The tension in the room was palpable, every second stretching into an eternity as Garrus's gaze finally settled on Satima. His eyes narrowed, focusing intently on her features, the realization slowly dawning on him. His disbelief melted into a mix of horror and understanding. Satima's tear-streaked face revealed the undeniable truth that lay beneath her exterior.
Garrus did indeed look; more closely than ever. Some part of his mind wanted to reject the truth staring at him, but his instinct came back. This girl, this genetic experiment, Satima; is part turian. His mandibles twitched, his eyes widened, and he felt a cold shiver run down his spine. The realization struck him like a blow, leaving him momentarily breathless.

His mind struggled to process the revelation. How could this be possible? The very notion defied all known laws of biology. Human and turian DNA could not naturally merge—it was an impossibility. Yet, here she was, a living, breathing contradiction to everything he understood about life and genetics.

Garrus's thoughts raced back to the memories of his past missions, the encounters with the Reapers, and the horrors they were capable of. The same Reapers who could twist and manipulate biology to their whims, creating abominations beyond imagination. The pieces began to fit together, forming a terrifying picture of the lengths they had gone to in their unrelenting quest for dominance.

He took a step back, needing to distance himself from the overwhelming reality before him. His eyes darted to Reaper, seeking answers in her determined gaze. "This... this wasn't from biology; nature didn't have a hand in this!" he exclaimed, his voice tinged with a mix of disbelief and growing comprehension. "It's reaper tech! Anything a reaper wants, it gets."

A wave of understanding washed over him, mingled with a profound sense of horror. The implications were staggering, and he couldn't help but feel a deep sense of unease at the thought of what Satima's existence represented. She was more than a victim of twisted experimentation; she was a testament to the Reapers' unfathomable power and their ability to reshape life itself. The weight of this knowledge pressed heavily on his shoulders as he grappled with the enormity of the revelation that had just shattered his world.

Satima glanced at Jormun, seeking solace in the midst of her turmoil. Her steps faltered as she approached him, her heart aching with the need for understanding and reassurance. Jormun, however, stood rooted in place, his eyes wide with shock and fear. The revelation of her origins had shaken him to his core, and he struggled to reconcile the girl he knew with the horrifying truth that had been unveiled.

"Jormun," Satima whispered, her voice trembling with desperation. She reached out, her hand hovering just inches from him, yearning for the comfort she so desperately needed. His hesitance to return her gaze felt like a dagger to her heart, amplifying her sense of isolation.

Reaper understood now. Her conversation with Garrus from earlier about the Lazarus project and Reaper tech in her own body sparked a memory. It wasn't just about Satima's origins; it was about the broader implications of their existence and their fight. The Reapers, with their ability to twist and manipulate biology, had pushed the boundaries of what was possible.

They had created beings like Satima, a blend of human and turian DNA, against all natural laws.

Reaper's thoughts swirled with the weight of this revelation. She remembered the countless times she had faced the Reapers and their abominations, each encounter a revelation to their unfathomable power. The realization that their technology had been used to create her own daughter shook her to the core. It was a stark reminder of the lengths the Reapers would go to achieve their goals, and the cruel ingenuity they possessed.

But amidst the chaos of this discovery, a sense of determination began to solidify within her. Reaper knew that despite the horrors of Satima's creation, her daughter was more than the sum of her parts. She was a living, breathing individual with her own will, her own desires, and her own potential. Reaper's resolve to protect Satima and fight against the Reapers' influence grew stronger. She would not let the Reapers' twisted ambitions define her daughter's destiny.

Reaper's mind raced with strategies and plans, each one aimed at ensuring Satima's safety and freedom. She glanced at Garrus, hoping he understood the gravity of the situation as deeply as she did. They had a long battle ahead, but Reaper was ready to face it head-on, fueled by the fierce love she felt for her daughter.

Directive soldiers loomed outside the lab's door, their shadows dancing ominously on the cold steel walls. The precious seconds they had spent in discovery were rapidly slipping away.

"We need to get off this station, now!" Reaper's voice cut through the chaos, her urgency clear as she glanced away.

"This way!" Satima urgently motioned for them to follow her through another door. They found themselves facing a long, dark walkway suspended over a seemingly endless abyss.

The group dashed through the dimly lit corridors of the HIVE, the echoes of their footsteps blending with the distant shouts of pursuing soldiers.

"Jormun, throw me your shotgun!" Satima's voice rang out, cutting through the chaos. Jormun hesitated for a split second, his eyes locking onto hers, then tossed the weapon her way. Satima caught the shotgun mid-air, ducking behind a nearby pillar for cover as she prepared to return fire.

"They're overwhelming us!" Garrus shouted, his voice edged with desperation as he shot down the relentless waves of directive soldiers.

Reaper expertly dispatched two of the attackers, her movements fluid and precise. Meanwhile, she couldn't help but admire Satima, who was demonstrating her impressive skills with effortless speed.

"Where are Do'ova and Liara?!" Garrus shouted, his voice edged with panic as he shot down an enemy lurking in the shadows.

Satima nodded in agreement, her heart pounding in her chest. This had to be a nightmare come true. Would they survive this? As they backed towards the docking platform, Haven hovered down, attaching to the tube with a metallic clang.

"They're here!", Satima yelled, her voice trembling with urgency. She frantically tried to open the hatch, but it was heavily encrypted. "If I can just hack it, we can escape! I need cover. Can you do it?", she pleaded, her eyes wide with desperation, locking onto Jormun.

"Of course, I can!" Jormun shouted, his voice wavering slightly. The fear gnawed at his insides, but the thought of failing his friends and letting them down fueled his resolve. Despite his shaking hands, he aimed his weapon with newfound determination, holding the line against the relentless soldiers.

Satima's fingers flew over the hacking interface, her eyes narrowing with concentration. Reaper moved with lethal precision, dispatching the directive soldiers with an almost graceful efficiency, her movements a blur of deadly intent. She was a force of nature, unyielding and unstoppable.

"Just hold them off a little longer!" Satima's voice wavered, but her determination was unwavering. Each keystroke brought them closer to freedom.

The relentless onslaught of soldiers seemed never-ending, but Jormun, with his newfound resolve, held his ground. His weapon barked out defiance at the encroaching enemy, the fear in his eyes replaced with a steely determination.

Garrus shouted over the din of battle, "Keep it together! We're almost there!"

Reaper's mind raced, calculating their odds and forming strategies on the fly. Despite the chaos, she felt a surge of pride watching Satima—her daughter, fighting for their survival with every ounce of her being. She pushed forward, driven by the fierce love and unwavering resolve to protect her child.

Finally, the panel beeped in success. "I've got it!" Satima exclaimed, throwing the door open just as the soldiers closed in.

They dashed through the hatch, Reaper's protective instincts kicking into overdrive. A shot ricocheted, striking Satima in the leg, and she cried out in pain. Garrus pulled her through, supporting her weight as Reaper applied the cutting-edge medi-gel, her hands moving swiftly and efficiently.

"Let's get off this damn station!" Garrus's voice was a clarion call to action, and the group surged forward.

The door slid open with a hiss, revealing Liara on the other end, pistol in hand and a menacing grin etched on her face. Her eyes locked onto them with cold precision, "I see the little monster has been rescued." The air crackled with tension as she raised the pistol, her finger curling around the trigger.

Time seemed to slow as the barrel aimed directly at Reaper. The silence was shattered by the deafening bang of the gunshot. Reaper's head snapped back, a crimson spray painting the wall behind her. Her body crumpled to the ground with a sickening thud, eyes staring lifelessly at the ceiling.

Satima's heart stopped as she watched in horror, her mother's lifeless form sprawled before her. The scene felt surreal, like a nightmare from which she couldn't wake. Desperation clawed at her throat, and a primal scream tore from her lips, "No!"

Satima's gaze locked onto Liara, her eyes filled with an all-consuming rage. With a primal scream, she launched herself at Liara, her fists flying in a flurry of blows. Each punch landed with savage force, the sound of bone striking bone resonating through the corridor. Liara tried to block the onslaught, but Satima's strength and fury were overwhelming.

"How could you?" Satima's voice was a guttural snarl, punctuated by each strike. "You took everything from me!"

Liara tried blocking the blows, but Satima was too strong. Stronger than before. Each punch was fueled by a cocktail of grief and fury, making her movements wild and unpredictable. Liara struggled to maintain her balance, her arms coming up defensively in an attempt to shield herself from the barrage of attacks.

Do'ova stood at the entry of the cockpit, her eyes wide with alarm and disbelief. She watched in horror as Satima, driven by a mix of grief and fury, unleashed her rage on Liara with relentless force. The sound of her fists striking bone echoed through the corridor, each blow an indication to her pain and loss. Do'ova's heart raced, her mind struggling to process the sudden and violent turn of events. She knew to act quickly, but the sheer intensity of the moment left her paralyzed.

Jormun ran to stop Satima, his heart pounding with desperation. He grabbed her by her arms, attempting to pull her off Liara as she kicked and screamed, her rage uncontainable. "Satima, stop!" he pleaded, his voice breaking with urgency. "This isn't the way!" He struggled to hold onto her, feeling the raw power of her grief-fueled fury. Ancestors, what did they do to Satima?

Garrus stood there, staring at the body of Reaper in total disbelief. His mind couldn't process the reality of the betrayal. He felt a cold emptiness seep into his core, paralyzing him. The chaos around him seemed to fade into a distant blur as he fixated on the lifeless form of the fallen Reaper. Every fiber of his being screamed in silent agony, unable to fathom how everything had come to this. Garrus was locked in a moment of utter devastation, his thoughts consumed by the treachery that had shattered their trust.

“Fuck.”, he muttered.

Jormun fought Satima, cornering in her quarters. He hacked the door shut, locking her in. Her fists beat against the metal furiously. Jormun ran to the cockpit to quickly pilot them out of the docks. Fighters hounded them as he navigated through the relay blind.

Jormun fought desperately to subdue Satima. With a final surge of effort, he managed to twist her arms behind her back, his grip firm but gentle. "Satima, please!" he shouted, his voice raw with urgency.

He quickly hacked the door to her quarters shut, locking her in. Her screams of anguish echoed through the corridor as she pounded against the metal, but Jormun knew they had no time to waste. He sprinted to the cockpit, his mind racing as he navigated away from the HIVE station.

Fighters hounded them relentlessly, their weapons lighting up the dark void of space as Jormun piloted the ship through the relay. The desperation to escape burned in his mind, every second feeling like an eternity as they dodged enemy fire. He didn't care where they ended up as long as they were far from the HIVE.

............................................................................

Garrus's eyes darted nervously to the wall, his mind churning with a fog of panic and disbelief.

Jormun swiftly dragged Liara to the makeshift medical room in the cargo bay, his hands trembling with urgency. He injected her with medi-gel, monitoring her vitals closely. Though she was alive, the pain she would endure upon waking was sure to be excruciating.

Which he made sure wouldn't happen until they reached a medical station. Biotic warps destroying the hull would kill them all.

With a heavy heart, Jormun wearily walked back to the airlock entrance. Do'ova's piercing gaze bore into him. "Our crew is cursed," she hissed, her voice trembling with fear. "And this ship is hell." She hurriedly left him, her footsteps echoing ominously through the mess.

Garrus stared away from where he sat, every muscle in his body tensed. Jormun knelt by the body of Reaper, beginning to drag her away when Garrus shot a taloned hand out, grabbing his wrist tightly. The young quarian froze, his eyes widening in fear as he let go of Reaper's arm. Garrus's gaze was cold and unyielding as Jormun backed away to Satima's room.

Garrus touched Reaper's hand, a cold chill traveling down his spine. He fought the urge to yell at the ghost in his mind, the silence around him growing heavier with each passing second.

He must have sat for an age beside the lifeless body of Reaper. The intense emotions he felt could not sustain the feeling of regret. He wanted to end Reaper, more than anyone, even Satima. Despite his need for revenge, a part of him longed for the Reaper they once knew.

Garrus told himself over and over that she wasn't the real Shepard; not anymore. His mind was a battlefield of emotions, torn between the logical reasoning that she had changed and the undeniable pull of their shared past. Memories of their battles flashed through his mind, making his heart ache with a longing he couldn't suppress.

She had regained a part of her former self, the memories that once made her good, that defined her essence. She was defying The Directive and saving Satima. Was this enough to make her the Shepard he once knew? The conflict gnawed at him, leaving him questioning everything he believed.

Then Liara changed that. His previous vengeance had been almost erased by Satima and the actions of Reaper until a bullet was put through her head. Garrus wanted her back, even if she is just a copy. He needed her back. His heart was heavy with regret, questioning if there was anything he could have done differently. He had failed to protect her, failed to see the signs of betrayal that led to this moment. The weight of his remorse crushed him, leaving him feeling hollow and lost.

Spirits, Satima needed her too! Garrus's heart ached with a profound sense of remorse, realizing how much Satima needed Reaper as a mother figure in her life. He felt a deep pang of guilt for not seeing it sooner, for not protecting that bond.

Just as he started to sulk again, Reaper's body spasmed and jerked. She made a noise, tightening her fists and then suddenly moaning in pain as she sat up straight.

Garrus's heart nearly burst through his plated chest. He stood there, frozen, his eyes wide with disbelief. His mind struggled to process what he was witnessing. Every logical explanation he could conjure felt inadequate compared to the surreal reality before him. The shock coursed through him like an electric current, rendering him momentarily speechless.

Reaper's eyes darted open, her body trembling violently. Garrus leaned over her, his heart pounding in his ears as he watched her chest heave with labored breaths. "JORMUN!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the ship with urgency.

Garrus's gaze remained locked on Reaper as she fought for every breath, her body racked with pain. The flicker of life in her eyes was both a miracle and a torment. He couldn't let go of the weight of gratitude and confusion, mixed with the urgency that pulsed through the ship.

In the med-bay, Liara lay motionless, her form fragile yet serene. The room was a stark contrast to the chaos that had erupted. Only two beds stood ready, side by side, destined to cradle both Reaper and Liara in their time of vulnerability.

As Garrus stood there, the reality of their shared fate settled over him like a shroud. The med-bay, a place of healing, now symbolized both hope and despair. Reaper and Liara, bound by their wounds and the history they carried, would face recovery together in the confines of the same space.

Whether they like it or not.
.....................................................................................

Liara had awoken hours earlier, her body aching from Satima's brutal attack. Each movement sent waves of pain through her, but her mind was sharp and alert.

Her intel was right. Satima was not just an ordinary being; she was a product of a secret HIVE experiment, a project that aimed to create ultimate biotic warriors by splicing DNA with advanced cybernetic enhancements. This nefarious endeavor had been concealed from the galaxy, known only to a select few within the clandestine circles of power.

Satima's connection to Reaper ran deeper than anyone could have imagined. Reaper, once known as Commander Shepard, had been one of the original subjects of the HIVE project, chosen for her unparalleled biotic abilities and leadership skills. Though she had escaped and broke free from their control, the remnants of the experiment lingered within her. These dark secrets were buried deep, known only to a handful of individuals, including Liara.

The asari’s discovery of Satima's origins revealed a twisted web of manipulation and deceit. She wanted to warp that brat right into space; then throw Reaper's body with her.

Liara heard footsteps with loud grunting and forced herself to remain still, feigning sleep. As the noises grew closer, her heart pounded in her chest. She cracked her eyelids open just enough to see the shadowy forms of Garrus and Jormun struggling to haul Reaper's body in. The tension in the air was palpable, and Liara's breath caught in her throat as she watched them with bated breath.

Garrus swiftly set up an IV as Jormun meticulously began taking scans from the medical terminal. Every beep and hum of the machinery heightened the tension in the room. What were they doing, Liara wondered, her curiosity mingling with a sense of foreboding.

She watched Garrus treat Reaper with a tenderness that made her stomach churn. Goddess, he still pined for her. No matter what atrocities Reaper had committed, Garrus remained steadfast in his care. It sickened Liara to see him so protective of someone who had caused so much pain. The bile rose in her throat as she observed his gentle touch. How could he still care so deeply for her?

Jormun stood beside Garrus, his voice tinged with urgency. "You know we can't take her to the medical station," he said, breaking the tense silence.
Garrus's voice was strained with desperation. "Why the hell not?!" he shouted, his eyes wide with panic.

"It's overrun by the Directive!" Jormun yelled back, his voice strained with urgency. He quickly glanced at Liara, who lay motionless, her stillness a deceptive facade that heightened the tension in the room.

Garrus's mind raced as he processed Jormun's words. "We still need to address Liara. They can't be in the same room for too long."

Jormun finished the scans, "Then we'll take shifts. I'll handle the first one."

Garrus nodded. He looked at Reaper one more time, then glanced at Liara. His heart ached with disappointment. How could she, someone he considered a trusted ally and friend, harbor such venomous thoughts? The betrayal cut deep, a wound that festered beneath the surface.

With a heavy sigh, Garrus put a kinetic shield around his once-blue friend. As soon as Liara wakes, he's taking her back on the fighter to her home, the Athame station. Leaving her behind, cutting off ties, forever, felt like a necessary but painful step. The woman who lay there was no longer the Liara he once knew, and that realization weighed heavily on his soul.

................................................................

Satima slid down the door, defeated in her room. She cried out and screamed, but no one heard her. Eventually, she fell into a tormented dream.

In her nightmare, Satima found herself back on the HIVE station, the cold steel walls echoing with the sounds of distant, tormented cries. The sterile lights flickered ominously, casting eerie shadows that seemed to reach out to her. She was trapped in a dimly lit corridor, the air thick with the scent of antiseptic and fear.

As she walked, the corridor seemed to stretch endlessly, each step heavy and labored. She could hear the faint whispers of the other children who had been subjected to the same cruel experiments. Their voices were filled with pain and desperation, a haunting reminder of the horrors they had endured. She saw their faces, ghostly and pale, their eyes hollow and void of hope.

Suddenly, the walls around her began to close in, the space growing tighter with each passing moment. Panic surged through her as she tried to find an escape, but the corridor offered no relief. She turned a corner and found herself in a large, sterile room filled with medical equipment. The tables were lined with instruments that glinted menacingly under the harsh lights.

Satima found herself grabbed and forced back in the medical chair. As she struggled against the restraints, the room around her began to blur and distort. The faces of the scientists became grotesque masks of malice, their voices a cacophony of cruel laughter. The instruments loomed closer, their metallic surfaces reflecting her terror-stricken eyes.
She jolted awake, her heart racing and her breaths coming in short, frantic gasps.

Satima groggily stood up in her dimly lit room, her body aching from her struggles. She carefully dressed her wounds, grimacing at the pain. Searching through piles of discarded clothing, she found something clean to wear, a small comfort in the midst of her turmoil.

Reaper, her mother, filled her with a mix of confusion and bitterness. She couldn't quite grasp why she felt compelled to defend Reaper or why her rage had flared against that asari.

Satima had uncovered many truths, but none of them made her feel any safer. In fact, each revelation only deepened her sense of dread.

She heard a sudden knock on her door, shattering the silence. "What do you want?" she snapped, her voice edged with bitterness.

The door creaked open, and Garrus stepped inside, his expression somber. He lowered himself into the chair, avoiding her gaze, lost in his own thoughts. "Are you okay?" he finally asked, his voice gentle but uncertain.

Satima sat on her cot, legs crossed, and watched his intense stare. "I don't know," she replied quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Garrus stirred in his seat, tension radiating from his every movement. "She's alive. I don't know how, but she... she woke up," he said, his voice trembling slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Satima suddenly felt a wave of relief wash over her at the news, but it was quickly followed by a surge of disbelief. Reaper can't be killed. She glanced away, trying to mask her conflicted emotions. "I'm not sure how to respond to that or even feel," she said, her voice trembling slightly as she moved a random datapad in a futile attempt to distract herself.

“Me either,” Garrus replied, his voice tinged with a mix of sorrow and confusion. He stole a glance at Satima, taking in her features. Her ginger-colored hair, her round face—so reminiscent of Reaper’s, or rather, Shepard’s. But the turian traits were unmistakable: the small plated forehead, the solid prominent brow, the ridged nose.

It was a bewildering fusion of flesh and carapace. Garrus’s mind raced as he stared at her, the realization striking him anew. Satima was Shepard’s offspring. The thought alone was almost too much to bear. Had his DNA been used to mutate her biology during his brief incarceration on the HIVE all those years ago?

The possibility gnawed at him, a turbulent swirl of emotions. There was a part of him that saw Shepard in Satima, and it both comforted and tormented him. How could she embody so much of the person he once knew and yet be a stranger at the same time?

Garrus observed Satima's trembling form, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if to ward off an unseen chill. "Is it cold in here?" he asked, concern etched into his features. Though clad in full armor, he couldn't feel any drop in temperature.

"Yeah. I'm feeling dizzy," she managed to say, her teeth clattering like a frantic rhythm echoing through the still room.

Sighing, Garrus walked to Satima and gently touched her forehead. "You have a spiking fever. All of those injections, experiments that were done to you, have made you sick," he said, his voice laden with worry. He watched her with a furrowed brow, his concern evident in his eyes. "I know of one more place, but it would put us at risk," he continued, noticing how pale Satima had become.

Satima was put to rest on her cot in her quarters.  Garrus left to the navigation controls. He'll drop Liara off quickly at the station.

Satima was gently laid to rest on her cot, her feverish body trembling under the dim lights of her quarters. Garrus, his mind racing with worry, stepped out to the navigation controls. "Hang on, Satima," he muttered under his breath. He knew they had to drop Liara off quickly before venturing into more dangerous territories.
............................
"We're going to Illium? That place is beyond dangerous!" Jormun stared at Garrus furiously.

"I know it's not exactly the best place, but it will have to do," Garrus navigated Haven in the system. Jormun hurried off in a sullen mood.

"I'm trying to save her life..." Garrus's voice trailed off as Jormun walked away.

......................................

Satima's shivers continued to wrack her frail frame as Jormun entered her room. He gently laid a warm blanket over her, his heart aching at the sight of her suffering. Sitting beside her, Jormun began to rub her arm in soothing circles, hoping to bring some measure of comfort to the fever-stricken girl.

She stared at him, wanting to say something. He continued to look away, just rubbing her arm. His thoughts drifted, the motion becoming absent-minded. Jormun’s mind wandered relentlessly, grappling with the gravity of Satima’s existence and the repercussions of her origins.

She was the daughter of the galaxy's villain, a product of some insane experiment. The weight of this realization bore down on him, making it hard to focus on the present. His movements mechanical, he was lost in a whirl of worry and contemplation.

Jormun wanted to help her through this, but his mind wandered to another issue. Home. While on Omega, he contacted his mother. The Admiral would not hear of him bringing Satima to Rannoch. No migrant stations would allow it either.

He shouted, rebelled against his mother over the matter, but her words remained resolute. The sting of her rejection burned deeply, making his heart ache. How could she be so unyielding? How could his own family turn away someone so desperately in need?

Jormun defied her, promising to never come home until Satima was welcomed. He professed his love for her and even insinuated a family they could have on Haven.

Their little migrant ship. Home.

This ship is hell. Do'ova's damn words stuck out like an inflamed rash.
Satima had fallen asleep, still cold from her fever. He turned, crawling gently behind her, wrapping his arm over the soft body.

Satima had fallen asleep, still cold from her fever. Jormun gazed at her peaceful yet fragile form, his heart swelling with an overwhelming need to protect her. He lay down beside her, wrapping his arm tenderly around her soft body, as if trying to shield her from all the pain and suffering she had endured.

He whispered softly hoping she could understand despite his helmet muffling the words, "I promised to be here for you, Satima. We'll get through this together." His warmth seeped through the blanket, and for a moment, he felt the faintest hint of her body relaxing against his.
Jormun's touch was gentle yet firm, a silent vow that he would never leave her side.

Do'ova found them that way, standing a short distance from the door frame. Satima only reacted to a heinous crime on her ship. It was normal to be so angry. But, that violence?

She closed the door quietly, returning to the cockpit to see Garrus navigate them to the Tasale system. With the captain back, will they finally get some normalcy? And will they try to find her family? 

Chapter Text

Illium rebuilt itself after the war. The citizens shut themselves away from the governments and rules of the galaxy. There were no recorded incidents from Justicars, considering most of them died in the war. The planet's recovery was marked by rapid urban development and the rise of new industries focused on self-sufficiency and defense.

Despite the challenges, Illium thrived economically, becoming a beacon of prosperity in the galaxy. It attracted a new wave of settlers and investors, eager to take advantage of its burgeoning markets. However, this influx of people brought its own set of problems.

The planet's infrastructure struggled to keep up with the growing population, leading to shortages in housing, resources, and employment opportunities.

In an effort to manage the situation, the government implemented strict immigration policies and began regulating the flow of people into the planet. This included closing the docks to Asari refugees who had been arriving by the hundreds. As a result, the once-open arms of Illium became more selective, focusing on maintaining stability and order within its borders.

Now with more people and indentured servants than the planet can handle, Illium's government instituted random drafts, forcing citizens to leave and be delivered to the HIVE. This controversial decision aimed to relieve the pressure of overpopulation by transferring the burden to the HIVE.

Meanwhile, the Asari military concentrated on strengthening and stabilizing their new government amidst the growing tensions and unrest.
Despite these measures, whispers of clandestine activities began to surface. The HIVE was allegedly buying indentured servants for experiments and utilizing the forced draftees for their expanding military force.

These rumors spread like wildfire through elite parties and occasional food rallies, causing a stir among the populace. However, the Illium government vehemently denied all accusations, maintaining that their actions were solely to ensure the planet's stability and prosperity.

Kasota Hospital, Illium

Emergency transport teams were urgently dispatched to Haven to retrieve Reaper. Garrus and Satima followed closely behind, their faces etched with worry, while Do'ova remained in the lobby, eyes fixed on the trauma wing doors as they swung shut behind the team.

Jormun sat with his salarian friend, his eyes darting nervously as sky cars zipped by in front of a dying sun. The purple and blue clouds cast an eerie glow on the grey floor of the room. He checked on Satima, who received proper medicine, his worry only heightening with each passing moment. Jormun wandered around the lobby, his mind racing, waiting on any news from her treatments.

Ancestors. What a twisted reveal. Jormun's mind raced with questions, overanalyzing what it could all mean. He could feel a protective instinct rising within him. Whatever her past, she was under his care now. He would ensure no harm came to her again. No one would hurt Satima while he was around.

Suddenly, the trauma wing doors burst open, and Reaper emerged, looking astonishingly revitalized. Satima followed her, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Reaper, how are you even standing? You were on the brink of death moments ago!" she exclaimed.

Garrus, racing beside them, shook his head in shock. "Spirits! Reaper, what in the galaxy happened? How did you come back so quickly?" he shouted, his voice tinged with both awe and confusion.

"Why did you bring us here? It's too exposed!" Reaper hissed urgently.

Satima blocked her mother, "Whoa! First, explain how the hell you're not a corpse. I saw Liara put a bullet in your head!"

Reaper eyed them both. "Self-regeneration.", she answered.

Garrus shook his head," Impossible! You're immortal?"

"I don't think so. Harder to kill, maybe, but I'm not invincible," Reaper responded with a wry grin.

Satima followed her mother out to the bustling streets, her thoughts a whirlwind of disbelief and curiosity. Jormun, noticing the commotion, immediately sprang into action and sprinted after them.

Do'ova remained momentarily frozen, her eyes wide with shock at the miraculous resurrection she had just witnessed. She shared a quick, bewildered glance with Garrus, the turian, before decisively leaving the lobby to join the others outside.

Garrus lingered, his mind swirling with uncertainty, perched on a bench. The weight of his worries dulled his hunger and fatigue, leaving only a gnawing concern. As nightfall enveloped the city, he ventured outside, the cool air invigorating his senses. The fresh scent of the evening filled his lungs, momentarily distracting him from his troubles.

Suddenly, the sound of raucous laughter echoed from across the hospital. Intrigued, he meandered through the dimly lit alleyways, drawn by the boisterous noise. Emerging from the shadows, he discovered a lively scene: bustling food stations, a quaint hotel, and a bar that beckoned with its warm, inviting glow.

Haunted by troubling thoughts, Garrus desperately sought an escape. He shoved his hands into his pockets and made his way to the bar. Inside the lively establishment, he found solace on a stool tucked away against the wall, as he usually did.

Vibrant yellow and blue lights danced rhythmically on the floor. Garrus found a secluded spot at the bar, away from the lively crowd. He craved solitude. "What can I get for you?" asked a turian bartender with striking orange colonial markings, meticulously polishing a few glasses.

"Whiskey.", he replied, "And just a shot."

That shot quickly turned into four, each one searing away a layer of his distress. With every fiery gulp, Garrus felt a fleeting sense of liberation, as though the weight of his worries was momentarily lifted. For just a brief, blissful instant, he could almost forget about Reaper, Satima, and the ominous shadow of the HIVE.

A young asari sauntered over and sat next to him, her smile sweet yet calculating. Garrus felt a pang of unease, memories of Liara's gentle touches flooding back, tearing at the raw edges of his heart.

He didn't need this now, not with the weight of everything he was already carrying.

"Well, it's been a long time since I've seen such a broadly developed turian male," she giggled nervously, moving even closer to him. The way she leaned in made Garrus feel distinctly uncomfortable, the proximity of her breath grazing his fringe sending prickles down his spine.

The other turian bartender cast a quick glance their way, sensing the tension in the air. Garrus couldn't help but notice the faint aroma of sweet liquor on the asari's breath, suggesting she'd indulged a bit more than usual.

The asari girl traced his arm with her blue slender fingers, lingering a bit too long at his fringe. It gave an unsettling, non-consensual sensation down his spine. Garrus shuddered, feeling both embarrassed and irritated.

It had been a long time and this asari wasn't the person he wanted to do that. He became visibly annoyed. "I'm really not interested," he said, awkwardly pulling her hand away while trying to shake off the uncomfortable feeling.

She leaned in closer, her breath warm against his fringe. "Oh, come on," she purred, her voice dripping with forced sweetness, as she took the shot out of his hand and set it on the counter. "I can give you a better time than whiskey," she whispered, her lips brushing against his ear. "My taste is much sweeter." Her fingers traced a slow, deliberate path up his arm again, lingering far longer than was comfortable.

Garrus stiffened, his discomfort visible, as he shifted uneasily on his stool. The bartender's eyes flicked towards them, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. The room seemed to grow quieter, the awkwardness thickening the air. Even the vibrant lights seemed to dim in the face of such palpable tension.

Garrus was seriously irritated at her. She took his drink away! Worse, she's practically attacking him with unwanted touching. He turned to say a few healthy words, but another arm grabbed him.

"Hands off, bluey!" Satima exclaimed, dramatically shoving the younger asari away.

She scrambled to her feet, eyes wide with shock. "You...you crazy woman!" she stammered, taking a cautious step back. Satima's glare was intense enough to melt steel, but the young asari's next move was to mutter, "I'm outta here!" before practically tripping over her own feet in her haste to escape.

"Yeah, you better run! Beat it, slut!" Satima shouted after her, shaking her fist dramatically.
Garrus's mandibles fluttered with a mix of embarrassment and relief. "Oh Spirits, thank you," he said, nearly falling off his seat.

Satima shook her head, her eyes filled with disappointment. "You know, I expected better from you," she said. "But I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

With a heavy sigh, she pulled him hard, almost dragging him along.

He stumbled after her, his vision swimming as the dim lights of the bar blurred into streaks of color. Each step felt like wading through thick mud, his limbs heavy and uncooperative. Garrus clung to the walls for support, his talons scraping against the rough surface in a desperate bid for balance.

"Let an old man catch up, will you!" he slurred, his voice thick and unsteady. His mandibles twitched with the effort of speech, and he nearly toppled as he misjudged the distance to the next support.
Satima glanced back at him, her expression a mixture of anger and concern.

He took a few more wobbly steps, his head spinning, and his stomach churning with each movement. The world around him seemed to tilt and sway, and he had to blink several times to clear his vision. "Just... just give me a moment," he muttered, leaning heavily against a wall. "I'll be right behind you."

Satima turned to him with fury blazing in her eyes. "You want to be drunk? Do it on your own time!" she shouted, her voice echoing off the walls. "Reaper's lost in the city below us. Jormun's back at Haven desperately trying to use a long comm to find her, and Do'ova is refusing to even speak to me. And you... you need to sober up. Now." Her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her frustration evident.

Garrus leaned heavily against the wall, his laughter fading into a pained chuckle. "Like I should care," he muttered, glaring at the ground. "Take your skinny ass and your shitty ship and get out of my life. I don't care if Shep—Reaper is dead in an alley. I'm tired of taking care of your problems."

But even as he said the harsh words, a pang of guilt twisted in his chest. He knew deep down that he couldn't just abandon them. Not Satima, not the crew of Haven. He had been through too much with them, and despite his frustration, they were his family now.

Garrus shook his head, trying to clear the fog of alcohol and confusion. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath, his resolve weakening.

He looked up at Satima, her eyes filled with a mix of determination and desperation. He knew she needed him, and as much as he hated to admit it, he needed her too. Taking a deep breath, he pushed off the wall and steadied himself. "Alright, kid. Let's go find Reaper and sort this mess out. Together."

Once they reached it, neither Reaper nor Jormun was there. Suddenly, Do'ova appeared at the ramp, her eyes blazing with fury.

Without warning, she launched a punch at Satima, who barely had time to react. The captain's instincts kicked in, and she countered with a swift kick to Do'ova's gut. The salarian doubled over, clutching her stomach, her breaths coming in sharp gasps.

"Is that all you've got?" Do'ova sneered, her voice dripping with venom. She straightened up, her black eyes narrowing dangerously as she glared at Satima.

The captain caught her anger. Stumbling over her words, she tried to apologize. "D! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean... I mean, I didn't think... I mean, it wasn't supposed to be like this...," she stammered, her voice wavering and unsure. Her face flushed with embarrassment as she struggled to find the right words, her hands gesturing clumsily.

Rising from the blow, Do'ova dismissed the hybrid. "No apologies will ever fix what you did. Not to me, or my family. I came back to see what you are. I know now." Her words hung in the air like a curse, chilling Satima to the bone.

Satima followed her to the bay. "What? What am I? D!" she grabbed the salarian by the arm. "You think you know everything about me, but you don't! Every decision I've made has been to protect everyone on this ship. You have no right to judge me after all we've been through together," she shot back, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation.

Do'ova stopped, her glare icy and unwavering. Satima's uncertainty was palpable; gone were the days of bravado and cocky attitude. She was scared—and utterly alone. "You're nothing but a void, swallowing everyone into your misery. Everywhere you go, people die. You don't care what happens to them, as long as you are safe. And now, I don't care what happens to you either."

Satima watched Do'ova leave the bay further into the ship. She stood silently, her fists clenched at her sides. Garrus stepped toward her, but before he could speak, she spat out, "We have to find Jormun and Reaper." There was a tremor in her voice, betraying her frustration and hurt.

Leading the way to the cockpit, Satima's movements were sharp and agitated. At the controls, she slammed her hands on the interface. "Dammit!" she shouted, her voice cracking with a mix of anger and despair.

Garrus stepped closer, his gaze steady and unwavering. "I'll go looking for them. You should stay here and keep an eye on things," he suggested, his voice carrying a mixture of determination and concern.

Satima sighed deeply, her mind swirling with the weight of Do'ova's words. "Is everything she said, true?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, filled with an unsettling mix of doubt and sorrow. She glanced at Garrus, seeking some form of reassurance or denial.

Garrus opened his mouth, but no words came out. He wished he had an answer, something to ease her turmoil, but his mind was as blank as the dark expanse of space outside the ship. Satima, sensing his silence, turned away, her shoulders slumping in defeat. She resumed her focus on the controls, her fingers trembling slightly as they danced over the interface. Determined to regain her composure, she took a deep breath and steeled herself for the task ahead.

The fast cars and bright city lights at night enveloped Garrus in a wave of nostalgia. The memories of the Citadel were vivid in his mind—the days spent at C-Sec, the first time he met her, their encounters with the Geth, the discovery of the Prothean artifacts, and the chilling reality of the Reapers. The allure of the cityscape was almost hypnotic, offering a fleeting respite from the darkness that loomed over their past.

Reapers. No matter how much they tried, those damn machines still won. Not by harvesting, but by shattering hope. They broke her, piece by piece, until nothing remained but jagged fragments. Satima is just a remnant. Is he next?

Minutes turned into a blur as Garrus navigated through the bustling levels of local shops and vibrant restaurants. With each step he took, the city seemed to pulse with life, a stark contrast to the turmoil that had become their reality. He knew he needed to get to higher ground, to find a vantage point that would give him a clear view of the sprawling cityscape below and the elusive peace above.

Garrus finally reached the towering sky-rise buildings, where the condos of the elite loomed over the city. His visor pinpointed her figure atop the highest one, a solitary silhouette against the night sky.

He ascended in the elevator, each floor bringing him closer to the solitude of the rooftop. There, Reaper crouched over the ledge, her silhouette etched against the vast, starry sky. "It's almost too peaceful," she murmured, her voice heavy with melancholy.

Garrus approached her cautiously, the weight of their shared past heavy between them. He couldn't tell if she was contemplating the abyss or simply lost in thought. "Yes, it is," he murmured, seating himself on the ledge beside her, the silence of the night pressing down on them both.

"I have Reaper tech in my body. Even injuries that aren't serious heal in minutes or hours. I'm not entirely human anymore, not really Shepard," Reaper confessed, her voice laden with sorrow.

Garrus gazed at her, seeing the silhouette of the person he once knew. Despite her changes, he still believed that Shepard was in there, somewhere. The certainty of her presence filled him with a desperate need to reconnect. He longed to reach out, to touch her arm, to remind her of the bond they once shared. Hesitantly, his hand hovered near her, yearning for a connection that felt so distant yet so vital.

"Garrus?", she asked, her voice barely a whisper, as he quickly recoiled his outstretched hand.

He looked at her, "Yes, Reaper."

With a wry smile, she glanced back at him. "Don't call me Reaper," she teased, her eyes sparking with a hint of the old fire.

For the very first time in a long while, a faint, melancholic smile crept across Garrus's face, tinged with the hope that perhaps, amidst all the darkness, they could still find a glimmer of light together.

Reaper and Garrus returned to Haven. Satima had been frantically working to locate Jormun in the sprawling metropolis of Illium. Her face was etched with worry and determination. "Any sign of Jormun, Satima?" Reaper asked, her voice cutting through the heavy silence as she approached.

Satima punched a panel closed, her eyes wide with worry as she opened a small schematic of the under-city. "No. It's not like him to disappear like that," she muttered, her voice tense with anxiety.

Her gaze followed the signal as it pinged and then jammed at the same spot. It stopped in a large building that seemed to be a warehouse. "What if he's hurt or trapped?" she whispered to herself, the fear evident in her trembling hands.

"We can't leave without Jormun," Satima pleaded, her voice wavering with desperation as she turned to look at Reaper.

"We won't," Reaper declared, her eyes fixed on the shimmering city skyline that lay ahead.

Warehouse District 17
Abandoned Zones

Jormun struggled to his feet, his vision blurred and head throbbing from the earlier blow. Darkness enveloped him, offering no clues as to his surroundings. Desperately, he searched for even the faintest glimmer of light, hoping for a sign of escape.

His helmet was severely damaged, its systems flickering erratically. Each malfunctioning pulse echoed his frantic heartbeat, heightening his sense of urgency.

A rupture to his suit had given him a fever. Keelah, what has he got into? Someone paced in the distance of the darkened warehouse. Each step echoed ominously against the cold, concrete floor, sending chills down his spine. He couldn't make out where he was. Jormun gulped, adrenaline pumping as he tried to back away into a hidden corner, desperately seeking a way out.

…

Haven hovered ominously above the back street, its silhouette barely visible through a thick haze of pollution and fog. The ship's spotlights sliced through the smog like blades, illuminating the desolate urban landscape below. A deafening roar echoed from its thrusters, reverberating off the buildings.

Satima and Reaper descended from the hanger, their weapons poised and ready. Garrus remained aboard Haven, watching vigilantly to prevent any unauthorized boarding attempts.

He attempted to enlist Do'ova's assistance, only to receive a dismissive gesture. Clearly, she preferred to convey her refusal through a universally understood middle finger. Garrus sighed, recognizing that she was going to be a significant obstacle.

Satima led Reaper to a heavily fortified metal double door, its surface slick with grime and age, dripping with the remnants of the elite towers above. "Here," Satima pointed, her voice a mixture of determination and concern.
The doors looked ancient and foreboding. "We'll have to pry it open. There's no panel or sign of a bypass.", Satima said, her voice tinged with urgency as she scanned with her omni-tool.

Reaper handed her rifle to Satima, stepping closer to the door with a steely determination. She examined the crack between the doors, her fingers probing the edges. Taking a deep breath, she wedged her hands into the gap, her bones emitting a faint crack.

Satima watched, a mixture of fear and fascination in her eyes. She couldn't tear her gaze away as Reaper began to exert her strength, prying the doors apart. The sound of her effort resonated through the silence. The tension in the air was climbing, each moment more charged than the last.

Her lean muscles flexed with an almost inhuman strength, a gift from the technology that now coursed through her veins. The ancient doors shrieked in protest, slowly giving way and releasing a rush of damp, musty air that carried the scent of decay and abandonment. The darkness within seemed to beckon them, promising both danger and discovery.

The warehouse had the unmistakable aura of abandonment, a relic from a pre-reaper era, cloaked in shadows and silence. As the ancient doors parted with a final groan, Reaper took her weapon back from a visibly stunned Satima and stepped forward, her movements swift and deliberate. The dim light from her visor sliced through the murky darkness, revealing glimpses of rusting machinery and discarded crates, each telling a story of forgotten times. Satima followed closely, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and anticipation.

"How do you possess such incredible strength? Is your entire body enhanced with reaper technology?" Satima asked, her voice tinged with awe and curiosity.

Reaper's face took on a shadowed expression as she moved through the dimly lit hall. "It's a heavy burden to bear," she murmured, her voice laced with a hint of sorrow. "There's not much left of my humanity."

Satima cast a quick, desperate glance at Reaper, her mind replaying the harrowing thought of HIVE's plans for her. The implications were chilling, and a shiver ran down her spine. She shook her head, trying to banish the fear for now.

But the hybrid’s mind raced with unsettling possibilities as she glanced around the darkened warehouse. Her thoughts were a whirlpool of dread, each scenario more harrowing than the last. What if Jormun was captured, subjected to unspeakable torment? Or worse, what if he had succumbed to the dangers lurking in the shadows of Illium's underbelly?

The fear gnawed at her insides, making it hard to focus. She shook her head, forcing herself to stay composed. They had to find Jormun, and there was no room for hesitation. With a quick, determined breath, she steeled herself for whatever lay ahead.

As they ventured further down the hallway, each step echoing ominously, they entered a vast room filled with dusty crates. The air was thick with the scent of forgotten years. Reaper's eyes narrowed as she noticed a strange black and orange symbol on some of the crates. "That symbol... I've seen it before," she murmured, her voice tinged with suspicion. Satima, driven by a strange, muffled noise, cautiously walked ahead, her senses on high alert.

Reaper's senses were on high alert, a sinister presence heavy in the air. "Hide.", she whispered urgently, her voice barely audible above the pounding of her heart.

Satima's eyes widened, "What do you mean?"

Reaper moved swiftly to Satima, her voice a harsh whisper, "I said, hide!" She shoved the girl behind a massive crate, her eyes darting around the room, enhanced by her advanced ocular capabilities. Turning to Satima with urgency, she muttered, "It's Archer. Go back to Haven and run. I'll keep him occupied."

Satima's voice trembled., "No. I can't leave you behind! And what about Jormun?!"

"I'll find him. If Archer catches you again, I can't guarantee your safety. Please, Satima, trust me and go.", Reaper's eyes bore into hers with a mix of urgency and resolve.

Satima handed her a blade, its razor edge glinting menacingly in the dim light. "Put it through his robotic skull," she demanded, her voice shaking with fear.

Reaper nodded as Satima quietly ran back out of the door. She was gone in the dark fog.

Reaper stepped into the center of the vast, dimly lit warehouse. Her voice echoed through the cavernous space, charged with determination. "Show yourself, Archer!"

Archer stepped forward, dragging Jormun with a merciless grip. His helmet was completely off, revealing Jormun's effervescent eyes, as they glowed with desperation when they met Reaper's. The young quarian's delicate features were marred by fear, yet a flicker of hope lingered in his gaze.

Archer's lips curled into a sinister grin. "Tell me, where is Satima?" he sneered, his voice dripping with malice.

"I sent her away. Your focus is with me now," Reaper declared, her voice unwavering and full of defiance.

Archer kicked Jormun to the floor, his groans and gasps echoing through the cavernous space. "I have been waiting for this moment for a long time," Archer spat, his voice dripping with menace.

Reaper threw her rifle to the ground, her eyes narrowing with a steely determination as she revealed her blade. "So, have I," she responded, her voice a low, deadly whisper.

They clashed in front of Jormun with a ferocity that shook the very foundations of the warehouse. Sparks flew as Reaper's blade met Archer's cybernetic limbs, their movements a blur of lethal precision.

Archer's blows landed heavily, each strike causing Reaper to stagger, her nanites struggling to keep up with the damage. She grunted in pain as his knee collided with her stomach, knocking the wind out of her. Her resolve, however, remained unbroken.

Reaper fell backward, Archer straddling her with a predatory grin. With a swift, forceful kick, she knocked him off and rolled onto the ground, spitting up blood. Jormun, trembling with fear, tried desperately to crawl away from the deadly clash before him.

Archer sneered, his voice laced with arrogance. "I've been enhanced, Reaper. The Directive has wiped away my weaknesses. I've been upgraded," he declared, leaning closer, his face inches from hers. "Perfected technology, originally designed for you."

"Glad I didn't volunteer for an upgrade," she taunted, gripping his cybernetic leg with fierce determination, "Let's see how perfect it really is." With a surge of strength, Reaper yanked him to the ground, sending a resonating thud through the warehouse. She swung her blade with unrelenting force, striking his droid skull with a chilling precision that echoed through the cavernous space.

Reaper advanced, her blade poised, standing over Archer. He reeled in confusion and agony. "What did you do?" he roared, clutching his head in torment.

Reaper wiped the blood from her nose, a defiant glint in her eyes. "I know where your neural implant is, Archer. It's damaged, and you have to return to HIVE to repair it," she taunted, her voice dripping with venom. "Without it, you only have a few hours before your nanites degrade. No more regeneration, no more upgrades."

Archer's expression faltered, a flicker of panic crossing his features. "I'll destroy you first before I go crawling back like a heeled varen."
Reaper retrieved her blade, a determined smile crossing her face. Just then, Haven burst through the warehouse skylight, sending shards of glass raining down like deadly stars.

Reaper sprinted to Jormun, her heart pounding in her chest as she shielded him with her body. Archer's enraged roar filled the warehouse as he activated a sinister device, tearing open a singularity. The air crackled with energy as he began his escape to HIVE. Jormun's eyes widened in disbelief, struggling to comprehend the advanced technology Archer wielded. "How did he leave without a ship?" he muttered, his voice trembling with fear and awe.

Haven's docking hatch exploded open, revealing Garrus standing there with a confident grin. "Need a lift?" he quipped, extending a hand to Jormun and Reaper.

Inside, Reaper gently laid Jormun on the floor. Satima, having skillfully navigated Haven out of Illium's atmosphere, set the VI to autopilot and rushed to their side. "I'm so glad you're alive!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with relief and worry. Garrus watched as Satima and Jormun embraced, their bond evident in the way they clung to each other amidst the chaos.

Jormun, still reeling from the brutal encounter, glanced gratefully at Reaper. "I'm lucky to be alive," he said, attempting a shaky laugh. "If it weren't for your quick thinking, I'd have been done for." His eyes, filled with a mixture of relief and admiration, met Reaper's unwavering gaze.

Satima followed swiftly, her eyes scanning for any sign of further danger. She guided Jormun to the small med bay in the cargo hold, her movements precise and purposeful. "We need to get you a new helmet. Can't have you falling ill on us now," she remarked with a wry smile, attempting to lift his spirits amidst the tension.

The sudden sound of Do'ova's voice shattered the fragile calm. "Yes, after all you've endured, we can't let you suffer for nothing." Her tone was sharp, laced with barely contained fury.

Jormun sensed an unsettling change in his friend. She seemed worn and agitated, an ominous aura radiating from her. "I'm relieved you're still with us, D.," he muttered, his voice tinged with unease.

Reaper watched them, a sense of satisfaction mingling with the adrenaline still coursing through her veins. Garrus stepped up beside her, his eyes filled with concern and anticipation. "He'll be back, won't he?"

"Yes. But I've wounded him enough to delay his return," Reaper replied, her tone resolute. She began to stride purposefully down the corridor to the cargo area. While the young captain tended to her crewman's wounds, she observed their interactions keenly.

"I should leave," Reaper announced, her voice cutting through the tense atmosphere. "There's something I need to investigate," she added, her eyes glinting with determination.

Garrus, unable to suppress his curiosity, arched an eyebrow. "Investigate? You sound like a detective now," he teased with a smirk.

Reaper crossed her arms, a determined look in her eyes as she studied the directive fighter. "I had the best teacher," she said, her voice filled with a blend of respect and defiance, turning to face Garrus.

Garrus stepped closer, his eyes narrowing with curiosity and concern. "Wait. You're serious!? What exactly are we up against?", he asked, his voice laden with urgency.

Reaper swiftly led him around to the side, her fingers deftly opening the panel hatch to the fighter's exterior travel compartment. "I managed to download some files from HIVE," she revealed, her eyes glittering with intrigue. "There's something about the stalkers that terrifies them. The truth is buried deep within these encryptions."

"Those guys?" Garrus questioned, his voice tinged with incredulity. "They can tear rifts in time, traverse singularities, and you want to investigate them?" he exclaimed, unable to hide his concern.

Reaper placed another small bag of provisions in a compartment. She looked at him with a smirk. "That's the plan."

Garrus leaned casually against the hull, a playful glint in his eye. "You always had a knack for pulling me into the craziest situations," he remarked, studying her intently.

Reaper's laugh was tinged with melancholy. "Into hell and back," she mused, her voice heavy with the weight of past trials and tribulations.
They shared a tense silence before she continued with her reasons for leaving. "I need to go to the research facility back on Mars in the Sol system. I know there are remnants of the old Alliance labs. Where Liara had been studying the Prothean beacon."

That name went sour in her mouth. The bitter taste of betrayal and loss threatened to overwhelm her. Her lucid awakening from the control of the directive had given her time to grieve over a great friendship, a bond shattered by the very mission that now defined her. Each memory of Shepard stung like a fresh wound, a reminder of the price she had paid to become what she is now.

Garrus interrupted her thoughts, a hint of concern in his voice. "You're going alone?" he asked.

Reaper, with unwavering determination, nodded. "Yes, and it's not an option. It's a necessity."

He glanced over the compartment thoughtfully. "I'm coming with you," Garrus declared with a resolute tone, his eyes locking onto hers.
Reaper's eyes widened in alarm as she froze mid-motion, "No! Satima needs you here. Archer is planning something, and you have to keep her safe from him."

Garrus looked back down the corridor, then to Reaper. His mandibles shifted slightly, a sign of his inner turmoil. "Satima is brave and smart. She can handle this herself. And..." He took a deep breath, gently touching Reaper's hand, his grip firm yet tender. "We can do this together. I believe Shepard is still in there, somewhere." His eyes softened as he pointed to her head with his taloned finger, a silent plea for connection.
Reaper grabbed his hand, shoving it away with a fierce intensity. "Don't. We both know that life is a faded memory."

He stared at her, surprise etched across his features, before casting his gaze downward. A heavy sigh escaped him, laden with disappointment. "Does it have to be this way?" Garrus asked, his voice tinged with a sorrow that pulled at the edges of his heart.

She closed the compartment, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "We've been trying to kill each other for nearly two decades. How can you just forgive those twenty years so easily, just because you're lonely?" The harsh words escaped her lips, laden with anguish and a deep-seated turmoil that pushed him away.

For a moment, Garrus saw only Reaper, a shadow of the once vibrant Shepard. The feelings he had been nurturing were now buried under the weight of reality. Shepard was gone, and he was left to grapple with the ghost before him. He stepped away, his voice heavy with resignation, "I was told to forgive the past. But how do you forgive when the scars run so deep, when the time left with family is but a fleeting whisper?"

Reaper listened, her eyes darting away, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

"We were family once. The Normandy was our sanctuary. You were my heart," he spoke, his voice laden with sorrow.

She wanted to be Shepard again, but a gnawing voice kept telling her no. "Garrus, that reality is gone." Reaper turned to him; her expression pained. "It's best we leave it there, in the past. I can't afford to be Shepard, not with Satima's life at stake."

Her voice trembled as she continued, "I need to protect her, Garrus. That's all that matters now. Even if it means sacrificing what could have been, even if it means giving up on my own happiness." Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, but her resolve remained unbroken.
Garrus looked at her, a mix of understanding and sorrow in his eyes. He nodded, acknowledging the weight of her decision. "I get it," he said softly. "But remember, you don't have to do this alone."

Garrus stood in the dimly lit cargo bay, his thoughts drifting to Satima. He couldn't deny the growing attachment he felt for the young girl. Over time, he had come to see traces of Shepard in her – the courage, the determination, and the unyielding spirit.

These glimpses of the past tugged at his heart, hinting at the possibility of rekindling a lost connection. There was a silent hope that maybe, just maybe, Satima could help Shepard find her way back. As he pondered this, a wave of quiet introspection washed over him, and he realized how deeply this bond had woven itself into his life.

Garrus stepped closer to Reaper, his eyes reflecting a fierce determination. "Reaper," he began, his voice a mix of resolve and vulnerability, "I know the past is a painful place, but I'd rather face it with you than live in this hell alone. I'll never bring this up again unless you want to, but I need you to know—I'll always be here, reaching out, ready to fight beside you." His hand gently brushed her cheek, the soft glow of her cybernetics no longer bringing an unexplained anxiety to him.

Garrus began to turn away, making his way out of the cargo bay, when Satima unexpectedly exited the med lab. "I wanted to thank you—" Satima's voice dwindled off as she stumbled upon the charged moment between Reaper and Garrus. Her face turned a deep shade of red. "Oh, I didn’t realize you two were...um...I should probably, uh, go," she stammered, awkwardly gesturing back toward the corridor she had just come from.

Reaper and Garrus stepped away from each other, the charged moment lingering like an electric current in the air. He squared his shoulders and locked eyes with her. "I'm coming with you, Reaper. Together, we'll stop Archer, The Directive, and keep Satima safe," he vowed, his voice filled with unwavering resolve.

Reaper shot him a challenging grin. "Have you always been this stubborn?"

As Garrus made his way out of the cargo hold, he cast a glance back at Reaper, a playful glint in his eye. "Well, you've always known I don't exactly follow the turian handbook," he quipped with a wry smile. His laughter echoed softly as he headed towards the mess hall, leaving Reaper to ponder the path ahead.

Reaper watched him, bitterness twisting inside her chest. Regret hit her like a tidal wave. She should've given Satima to him all those years ago. He wouldn't have returned to HIVE, and they might have found peace, living as a family far away from this relentless struggle.

Except for Archer. And... him. She hit the hull of the fighter, frustration coursing through her veins. It won't matter. They'll always look for her, know where she is. And why? Because Reaper will lead them to her, every damn time. No matter how hard she tried, HIVE's relentless pursuit would never cease.

A wave of defeat washed over her, realization settling in like a cold, unshakeable truth. Satima would forever be a target, haunted by the very shadows Reaper herself couldn't escape. The weight of this grim reality crushed her spirit, leaving her to grapple with the futility of her efforts.

An hour passed, with Jormun well enough for his duties. Back in the engine room, Satima wandered in. Her heart raced as she thought of Jormun, his steady hands, and his piercing eyes that seemed to see right through her. She wanted to be with him, to feel his warmth and share a moment of intimacy, right now, at this very spot.

The thought of his touch sent shivers down her spine, and she bit her lip to contain the growing desire. Her cheeks flushed, a soft blush of anticipation and longing. Every fiber of her being ached to close the distance between them, to bridge the gap with a kiss, a touch, an embrace. She gulped back those feelings, trying to maintain her composure, but the urge was overwhelming, compelling her to act on her emotions.

Jormun was engrossed in his tasks, oblivious to Satima's presence. When he finally looked up, he was surprised to see her standing there. "I didn't hear you come in," he remarked, quickly setting aside his tools to give her his full attention.

Satima smiled, glancing away shyly. "I can be with you, even while you're busy," she insinuated.

Jormun watched her expression, feeling her move closer to him. His heart pounded in his chest, and he could feel a bead of sweat forming on his brow. "Satima? You need something?" he asked, his voice wavering slightly as he gulped nervously.

She lifted her gaze to him, her touch soft yet electrifying on his arm. "I want to be with you. I want a... relationship." Satima's heart raced with a blend of fear and excitement, anticipation hanging in the air as she awaited his response. What would he say? What would he do?

Jormun pulled her closer, feeling the warmth of her body against his. He removed his helmet, revealing his intense gaze that seemed to pierce through her very soul. "I've been waiting for this moment," he murmured, his voice husky with emotion. "Hearing you say that means everything to me."

He kissed her velvety peach lips with a deep and fervent passion. She leaned in closer, feeling the intoxicating dance of his tongue exploring her mouth. Satima pulled away, her breath quickening from the intense heat that surged between them. "We can't right now," she murmured, her voice tinged with longing and restraint. "Later. When there's time."

Jormun nodded, his reluctance melting into a tender smile. He cupped her face, drawing her near, their foreheads gently touching. "You're right," he whispered, his eyes searching hers for solace. "But that doesn't mean I can't steal a kiss whenever I get the chance." His lips brushed hers softly, a promise of the passion that would have to wait.

His smile was mesmerizing, a beacon of warmth in the dimly lit engine room. The delicate hue of his grey skin accentuated his eyes, making them luminous in the shadowy space. His dark, wavy hair fell across the right side of his face, adding a touch of mystery. She swallowed her longing, stepping back reluctantly. Feeling the undeniable connection between them, Satima gently helped him put his helmet back on, her fingers lingering a moment longer against his skin. The intimacy of the gesture, though fleeting, spoke volumes of the passion simmering just beneath the surface.

Taking a moment to strategize, Jormun leaned against the cold, metallic wall of the hull. "Archer won't stop chasing us. What daring plan do we have to do, to shake him off?", he asked, his voice a mix of determination and concern.

Satima clenched her fists, her voice trembling with anxiety. "I don't know. For now, we need to prepare the ship for another encounter and find a place to hide." The urgency in her tone was evident, the weight of their predicament pressing down upon her.

Jormun watched her leave the room, his mind racing with the possibilities. "But where do we start?" he thought, a mix of excitement and anxiety coursing through him. The gravity of their situation weighed heavily, but the spark of hope ignited a determination he couldn't ignore.

Jormun's captain's mind raced with possibilities. "I owe D, Jormun. Finding them isn't just a mission—it's a promise I intend to keep."

He agreed, "I don't know where to start. It could mean capture for us all."

Satima faced away from him, staring down the dim, foreboding hall. "I am selfish," she admitted, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I feared what would happen to me, instead of thinking about them. About Do'ova."

Jormun squeezed her hand gently, his eyes locking onto hers with a steadfast resolve. "You may think you're selfish, Satima, but I see someone who cares deeply, even when it's hard. And I'm with you, every step of the way."

Do'ova paced restlessly in her quarters, her eyes glued to the scans that flickered with intermittent signals of hope. Which of the elusive terminus mines was Prax alluding to? Her captain, ever so discreet, slipped in quietly, her presence an unspoken reassurance. The salarian's brow furrowed, a mix of determination and irritation etched across her face, as she tried to ignore the intrusion, focusing intently on deciphering the cryptic data that might lead her to Jen.

Satima dragged a chair closer, her heart pounding with each step. She could see the raw pain etched in Do'ova's eyes, a mirror of her own inner turmoil. "Jormun and I... we’re going to find your family," she began, her voice trembling with determination. "We’ll trace those calls, hunt every single lead until we uncover their location."

Do'ova's fingers flew over the controls, her eyes narrowing as she looped the code over another signal. Each passing second felt like an eternity, the pressure mounting with every futile attempt. The captain's presence behind her was an unwelcome distraction. "I don't need your help," she snapped, her voice sharp with anxiety. "I can find them myself."

Satima's breath caught in her throat as she saw the raw emotion in Do'ova's eyes. She felt a pang of guilt, realizing the depth of the pain she had caused. The silence between them was heavy, the air thick with unspoken words and tense tones.

"I'm sorry," Satima whispered, her voice trembling. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Do'ova. I... I just wanted to help."

Do'ova's expression softened slightly, but the hurt remained. "Sometimes, the best way to help is to give space," she replied, her tone clipped but less harsh.

Satima nodded, her somber expression reflecting her understanding of the situation. The weight of her actions settled heavily on her shoulders, and she resolved to be more considerate in the future. "I understand," she said quietly. "I'll be here if you need me."

Satima had wandered off, her thoughts racing with the weight of the past few days. The constant tension gnawed at her, leaving her restless and searching for answers. She couldn't shake the feeling that Reaper and Garrus were hiding something, especially with their mysterious fighter mission.

Determined to uncover the truth, she resumed her seat at the pilot's chair, eyes fixed on the holo controls as she swiped through the panels with practiced precision. Her mind buzzed with questions and the pressing need to understand the larger puzzle they were all part of.

These past weeks had been an unrelenting nightmare, each day filled with more uncertainty than the last. Satima's mind raced, making a mental checklist of the astonishing revelations that had turned her world upside down.

Reaper's startling revelation had rocked Satima to her core. She discovered that Reaper was, in fact, her mother, the result of sophisticated genetic engineering. HIVE's nefarious plans involved creating entire armies of reaper tech drones, a threat that could not be ignored. The urgency to destroy that station was now clearer than ever.

And then, the sudden memories. A strange awakening. Dozens of blank faces. Some male, some female. Some not even human. All lined up in eerie rows. She was among them.

Satima shook her head, trying to banish the unsettling images. If Reaper is indeed Shepard, and Garrus knew her from before, what on earth happened at the very beginning? Before HIVE even created her or Reaper!

The comms pinged on the front panel, startling her. It was directed from the cargo bay. A surge of anxiety coursed through her veins.
“Satima, this is Reaper. We need to talk.”

Satima's curiosity was piqued instantly. Now, the real reason behind their enigmatic meeting next to the fighter could be unveiled. Every nerve in her body was attuned to the unfolding mystery, eager to finally grasp the elusive truth that had been slipping through her fingers.

As Satima entered the cargo bay, she found Garrus meticulously organizing their sparse provisions and weaponry for the imminent journey to Mars. The tension in the air was palpable, and the weight of unspoken questions hung heavily between them.

"Where's Reaper?" Satima inquired, her voice tinged with a mix of apprehension and determination.

"I'm here," Satima replied, stepping into the dimly lit medic room, its sterile scent a stark reminder of Liara's meticulous work in the past.

"You wanted to see me? What's going on?" Satima's voice trembled, her heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and dread.

Reaper settled onto a crate, her eyes flickering with unease. "Satima, I need to leave immediately. It's urgent. There have been some developments – critical information I've discovered that I must follow up on."

"Like what? You can't just 'reconnect' with me, then check out. I need you here. I'm not strong enough to fight Archer on my own!" Satima shook in anger and fear. "You can't just drop this on me and expect me to be okay with it. How am I supposed to handle this on my own?"

Her mother's unwavering strength was the only barrier standing between her and the oppressive force of The Directive.

Reaper stood abruptly, her eyes blazing with intensity. "That's what he wants you to believe. That you're too weak to stand on your own." She declared. "Satima, I trained you to survive. Not to cower."

Satima scoffed at her mother, her voice rising with anger. "Cower? Do you have any idea what you put me through?" she yelled, her eyes burning with tears. "All those years spent in fear and anguish. I despised myself every single day because of it!"

Reaper clenched her fists, her voice low and fierce, "No, Satima. I didn't mean..."

The girl was livid, her voice quivering with barely contained fury. "Don't you dare tell me not to cower! I don't have some twisted death wish. I want a life! I want a future with Jormun; something you and your precious ex-Directive almost robbed me of!" Satima's steps echoed ominously as she stomped away, her anger palpable in the confined space.

"I'll go talk to her," Garrus said, determination etched in his features as he followed Satima's retreating steps.

Reaper stood still as stone, her thoughts racing. She watched Satima's retreating form, her anger and frustration manifesting in each step. A wave of disappointment washed over her. If Satima continues to see herself as weak, then she'll always be the victim—of everyone and everything. Reaper had seen this before; the fragility, the fear of standing alone.

Reaper's mind drifted to the countless times she had faced adversity, each challenge forging her strength. She had hoped Satima would rise above the shadows of her past, but now, in this moment of crisis, she saw only fragility. Her training would kick in, but only at a cost. Reaper clenched her fists, forcing herself to remain composed. No, she thought. Satima must find her own strength, even if it means facing her fears alone.

Reaper shook her head. It's all just remnants of the directive. That's all. Right?

Garrus found Satima in a small room, huddled in the far corner of her bed. Her fiery hair cascaded over her face, hiding her turmoil. "What do you want? To tell me I'm behaving like a child?" she snapped, her voice laced with a mix of defiance and vulnerability.

Garrus leaned on the doorway, his voice gentle but firm, "No."

Satima's eyes narrowed, her voice a whisper on the edge of breaking, "Then what?"

He let out a breath and then proceeded to speak, "You made a valid point back there. But your mother wasn't trying to hurt you. She's trying to prepare you."

Garrus paused, his mind drifting momentarily. How strange it is to say, mother. Shepard, a warrior, a leader, a friend, a lover... but never a mother. He remembered their battles, her relentless drive, the way she carried the weight of the galaxy on her shoulders. A protector of worlds, but could she truly nurture one soul? The juxtaposition of her roles was almost impossible to reconcile.

He continued, his voice softer, "Shep-Reaper is not perfect, Satima. She’s made mistakes—hell, we all have. But she always believed in the strength of those she cared about. That includes you."
Satima let out a shaky breath. "For what?"

Garrus continued, his voice heavy with the weight of past sorrows, "To stop the Directive and make things right. No one truly understands how everything fell apart, but Shepard was there when it all began to unravel." He glanced around the room, the memories etched deeply in his eyes.

"We all blamed her, and in our anger, we abandoned her to the Reapers. I know this is all confusing, kid, but one day the truth will reveal itself. The answer must be out there, amidst the ruins of what we once knew."

She watched him lean in the doorway, his presence a stark reminder of his battles and the scars they left behind. The overhead light cast a pale yellow wash over his rugged face, highlighting each scar etched into his leathery skin. "Or die trying to find it," Satima replied, her voice a mixture of defiance and resignation.

"Exactly," Garrus chuckled, his voice tinged with a mix of nostalgia and determination. "But that's the spirit we need. To face the unknown, to confront our past, and to carve out a future worth fighting for."

Satima stood at the control panel, her heart pounding as the shuttle bay doors slowly unlocked. The hiss of escaping air filled the room as the doors parted, revealing the vast expanse of stars beyond. Jormun stood beside her, his presence a steadying force as the fighter began its flight out of her ship. The comm channels crackled to life, filling the silence with a sense of anticipation.

"Satima. Go to Tuchanka. I've downloaded the coordinates to an abandoned hospital. It should provide cover for a short while. Be on high alert; the Directive's scouts have been sighted in the area. And remember, you might encounter a few remnants of old allies—but they may not be as friendly as before. This is not just about survival; it's about the future of everything we hold dear. Be careful, Satima. They're hunting you." Reaper's voice crackled through the comms before abruptly cutting off, leaving an ominous silence.

Satima and Jormun exchanged glances, a silent understanding passing between them. The mystery of Tuchanka loomed large in their minds; no one had ventured there or heard from its inhabitants for over fifteen years. What secrets lay hidden in the desolate landscape? What challenges awaited them amid the ruins of the past? The weight of uncertainty was visible, but so too was the promise of discovery.

She looked over her shoulder to see Do'ova lingering in the short corridor. Returning to face the stars; Satima waited for them to disappear with the scouter ship. The captain quickly put in navigational input for the Terminus systems, instead.

She glanced over her shoulder to see Do'ova lingering in the short corridor, a silent observer to her resolve. Turning back to the vast expanse of stars, Satima's eyes narrowed with determination. The scouter ship disappeared into the void, leaving her and Jormun alone in their mission.

With a steely resolve, she quickly input the new navigational coordinates into the control panel, changing course for the Terminus systems. The hum of the ship's engines responded to her command, echoing the fierce determination that now coursed through her veins. This wasn't just a mission; it was her chance to right the wrongs she helped create.

"Buckle up, Jormun," she said, her voice brimming with unyielding resolve. "We're making an unexpected detour."

Omega

Haven docked without a hitch, but Satima couldn't shake the feeling of impending danger. Every shadow seemed to harbor a threat, every whisper a secret plot. She wouldn't let anyone ambush them this time. The Directive wanted her? They'd have to wade through a battleground littered with their fallen to get to her.

Do'ova stepped ahead of her captain, her eyes scanning the crowd with calculated precision. The patrons of Afterlife formed a motley line of restless individuals, each one more desperate than the last to gain entry. She turned to Satima, her voice a low whisper. "I didn't think you'd come back here," she said, her tone laced with tension. "Not after what happened."

Satima holstered her pistol, her eyes scanning the room for any lurking mercenaries. "Jormun got this little quest started. I owe it to you to see this through."

Jormun, tagging along at the back with Ish ready, followed as they entered the perilously famed club. Whispers swirled about whether Aria was still ruling her domain or had become a ghostly recluse in her opulent room, only the three turian guards at the entrance knew for sure. Each day, one guard would enter, then emerge, keeping the mystery alive.

At least that's what a trembling vorcha stammered, moments before Do'ova swiftly pressed a jagged beer bottle against its quivering throat. Satima couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration for her comrade's quick thinking. Jormun, however, was less enthusiastic, his brow furrowed inside the helmet with a mix of unease and annoyance.

They halted at the base of the stairs leading to Aria, the pulsating beat of the club's music echoing in their chests. Satima's blade glinted menacingly under the dim lights. Switching to comms to bypass the deafening noise, she spoke with a mixture of urgency and command. "I'll handle the guard. Use creds. We'll just peek and see if the old queen is still kicking. If not? Well… there are other ways."

A blood-pack krogan stomped his way to an asari dancer, his massive frame casting a menacing shadow. Nearby, a batarian with a jagged scar across his face glared at them, his hand never straying far from the hilt of his blade. In the corner, a group of Blue Suns mercs whispered among themselves, their eyes darting suspiciously towards the newcomers. The air was thick with tension, every glance laced with the promise of violence. Jormun gulped, his unease palpable. "I'm really starting to hate this place."

Satima led the group up the narrow, dimly lit stairs, the air thick with tension. Right in front of the entrance, a turian guard with no clan markings and dark, dangerous eyes blocked their path. His voice was cold and unyielding, "No admittance."

Her omni-tool flickered to life, illuminating her determined face as she displayed the amount. "How about 250?" she proposed, her voice firm yet enticing.

He snarled, "850."

They didn't have that much. Do'ova's anxiety was palpable, each subtle movement betraying her growing impatience. The patrons around them started to take notice, their whispers blending into the background hum of the club. Satima motioned for Jormun to stay close, her eyes never leaving the turian guard.

The guard remained steadfast, his posture unyielding. Satima, with a fluid motion, stepped closer, unsheathing her blade and pressing it lightly against his throat. The cold steel met his skin, and a visible gulp betrayed his initial bravado. His hand instinctively moved toward his sidearm, but Satima's firm shake of the head halted him. "I can slice open your voice box faster than you can shoot," she whispered, her voice a lethal mix of calm and threat. "How about you let us in for a look? We're not here to make trouble."

Jormun, sensing the gravity of the moment, cocked Ish, the sound of the weapon adding another layer to the tense atmosphere. The guard's eyes flickered with uncertainty, caught between the blade at his throat and the smoldering determination in Satima's gaze. The surrounding crowd seemed to hold its breath, the air thick with anticipation.

Seeing his chances of surviving this encounter were slim, the guard reluctantly opened the door, ushering them inside hurriedly. They almost trampled over each other in their haste. Getting in was the easy part. A tendril of smoke curled high above a purple head, watching the chaos below through a tinted window. An old, weathered couch, marred with stains and burn marks, curved in front of the pane, casting a foreboding shadow.

She stood with an arm under the other, her slender fingers cradling a lit cigarette. "I suppose you have a good reason for barging in on a dead woman's retirement?" Her grin widened into a wolfish smile. "Let's see just what the cat dragged in."

Aria faced the crew, her eyes narrowing as she took in their intrusion. "This looks like a bad joke," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She took a seat on her worn couch, leaning back with an air of defiance. "But I don't recall there being a directive experiment in the middle of it."

Satima almost gasped, her eyes widening momentarily before she quickly composed herself. She couldn't afford to look weak in front of this asari. "How did you know?" she asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil within.

Jormun pressed himself against the door, every muscle tensed, ready for a sudden onslaught. The seconds dragged on, each heartbeat a deafening echo in his ears. Yet, no guards burst through, leaving the heavy silence suffused with an ominous suspense that set his nerves on edge.

"You can't seriously expect me to sit here and not know what's going on in MY backyard. Do you?", the queen replied. Aria brought up her omni-tool, displaying recent recordings of their battle at the docks. And a disturbing one of the monsters from below.

Do'ova's voice trembled with urgency. "This doesn't matter! I need the location of the blood pack mines. To find my family!" Jormun reached out to calm her, his hand shaking slightly, while Satima's eyes flicked between Aria and the door, the weight of anticipation heavy in the air.

Aria's eyes burned with intensity as she fixed her gaze on them. "I don't care what you need," she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. "And I don't respond to rude interruptions." She grabbed an ashtray from her side table, extinguishing the cigarette with a sharp, decisive motion. "Get out of my home," she growled, her tone dripping with menace, "before I have you thrown out."

Haven's captain pulled Do'ova back, her grip firm and unyielding. She stepped closer to Aria, her eyes burning with steely resolve. "Even if you wanted to; you don't control this station anymore. Aria T'Loak doesn't have the same pull as she once did." Satima's voice was sharp, laced with a challenge that hung in the air. Her presence was commanding, her determination palpable, as she forced Aria to confront the reality of her diminished power. This was more than a fact—it was a provocation, a dare for the once-powerful merc queen to prove otherwise.

Aria dismissed it with a forced chuckle, setting down the ashtray with a deliberate, steady motion. She stared out into the dim room, her eyes reflecting a tempest of unspoken emotions. "Not since the Directive, no. Shepard promised to save us all." Her gaze flickered back to Satima, a veneer of indifference masking the turmoil within. "I knew she couldn't."
The room was thick with an unspoken tension, the weight of past failures pressing down on Aria. She maintained her commanding presence, her voice unwavering, but there was a flicker of something deeper in her eyes—regret, perhaps, or a shadow of lost hope.

A somber mood filled the room, the weight of Aria's words pressing down on everyone. "I lost my station to monsters," she began, her voice a low, haunted whisper. "My power was ripped from me. People I cared about were murdered in front of me, and I was completely and utterly incapable of stopping it." Her hand trembled slightly as she reached out to light another cigarette. "And so was Shepard."

Satima didn't fully understand, and neither did her crew. Aria's answer was curt, meant to dismiss them from her club. "Take a field trip to one of the planets in the expanse. Pragia, it's called. I'd check there." Her voice carried an edge, a hint of something unsaid, leaving a lingering sense of urgency in the air.

Haven's captain nodded in thanks, slowly getting up to leave. Aria spoke once more. "You remind me of her. Helping others like this. No matter how shitty this galaxy is," she gave a wry laugh. "Shepard was always the fool."

Satima paused, the comparison to Shepard reverberating through her. She saw this as a rare opportunity to learn more about the legend herself from someone who knew her well. Satima turned, fixing Aria with a curious gaze. "What was she like? Shepard, I mean."

Aria's eyes revealed a flicker of surprise, but her expression quickly hardened into one of indifference. "Shepard was relentless, always pushing forward despite the odds," she said flatly. "She had this... this unyielding spirit. No matter how grim things became, she was there, fighting for what she believed in."

The room was silent, and even Jormun and Do'ova listened intently. Aria's voice grew more introspective. "She had this way of inspiring those around her, making them believe that they could achieve the impossible. And she did, more times than I can count."

Satima's eyes widened, as she saw the subtle parallels between herself and Shepard. Her own journey now seemed like an echo of Shepard's past, a legacy she unknowingly carried on. "I've heard stories," she admitted, "but to hear it from someone who saw it firsthand... it's different."

Aria's expression turned serious, her gaze locking with Satima's. "You have that same fire, that same drive to make a difference. But remember, this path is fraught with sacrifice. Shepard gave everything she had, including her life."

With that poignant reminder, Aria turned away, leaving Satima to reflect on the weight of her own choices. In that moment, the echoes of Shepard's legacy and the uncanny similarities between them felt more real than ever.

As they left Aria's lair, Satima carried with her a renewed sense of purpose, yet a gnawing fear lingered at the edges of her mind. She couldn't shake the unsettling thought that, unlike Shepard, she hadn't been shaped by the fires of heroism but constructed by the cold, calculated machinations of HIVE. Would she ever truly be able to live up to the legendary legacy of Shepard? This doubt weighed heavily on her, casting a shadow over her resolve as she steeled herself to face whatever lay ahead.

They left quickly to the docks. Haven had been flown through a relay to end up in the Nubian Expanse.

With urgency in their steps, they swiftly made their way to the docks. Haven had navigated the vast expanses of space, journeying through a relay to find itself in the Nubian Expanse.

Pragia is a world shrouded in wild, unchecked plant life that seems to have a mind of its own. Rumors spoke of an ancient batarian colony that once thrived here, its legacy perhaps intertwined with the planet's rampant overgrowth. Scattered across the landscape were various outposts and sanctuaries, some belonging to mercenaries and others to pirates. Darker factions also found refuge in this untamed land, making it a place few would ever dare to call home.

Blood Pack clans dotted the area, their presence a harbinger of danger. The mine that still operated thrummed with a sinister energy, overseen by feral vorcha. At the entrance, a few krogans stood as imposing sentinels, their eyes scanning for any sign of intrusion.

Satima deftly maneuvered Haven to land atop a flat, rocky outcrop, surrounded by the encroaching tendrils of vines eager to reclaim any space they could. The urgency of their mission was heightened by the looming threat of the overzealous plant life, which seemed to whisper warnings in the wind as it brushed against their ship. The captain, feeling the weight of their task, signaled her crew to gather in the mess hall.
Jormun doubled his suit mesh shielding, his heart pounding in his chest.

The thorny underbrush threatened to tear through their defenses, and the jungle environment teemed with unseen dangers—virulent infections and viral traps lurking in the shadows. He cast a wary glance at Do'ova, who was meticulously packing an array of medical supplies.

"I might need them for my family," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of dread.

Satima's gaze swept over her crew, her voice firm yet hopeful. "The entrance is here," she said, projecting a small holographic map on her tool. "I can't say how many levels this place has; our VI was taken out during Archer's raid. But once we breach the entrance, we'll hack the terminals and uncover if this is the place we've been searching for."

Do'ova stared at her, anxiety etched into her features. "And if it's not?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper, yet heavy with worry.

Satima forced a smile, though the worry was evident in her eyes. She hesitated, knowing the perils that lay ahead and the slim chances of success. "We'll keep looking," she said, her voice faltering slightly before she steadied herself. "But remember, we've made it through tough situations before. We are a strong team, and we'll face whatever comes together." She hoped her words would offer some comfort, even as a gnawing fear of what might happen if they failed lingered in her mind.

Outside the landing area, the crew hacked and slashed their way through the jungle. Vicious vines obscured their path, while the treacherous jungle floor threatened to trip them with every step. "It's insufferably hot," Do'ova muttered through gritted teeth.

Indeed, it was nothing short of blistering. Satima encouraged them forward, her voice cutting through the stifling heat. "Keep pushing through!" The oppressive atmosphere only seemed to fuel the encroaching foliage, eager to bury them alive. Yet, despite the sweltering conditions, Satima's determination pushed them onward.

At last, they reached the entrance. A small clearing complete with a landing zone and one warehouse loomed ahead. The crudely cut rock marked the way through, with a built-in tower that had a walkway over the opening. Jormun's heart raced as he spotted two blood pack krogan safeguarding it. "Heavies," he whispered, tension threading through his voice.

A couple of vorcha troopers paced the grounds to their control tower, their eyes scanning for any intruders. The tower loomed ominously, just a few feet high off the gravel layout. "We'll sneak our way in there," Satima whispered, her voice barely audible. "Jormun, you'll hack the terminal station. Do'ova, keep watch from the door."

"And what will you do?", Do'ova asked, her voice barely audible as the tension in the air grew thicker.

She forced a smile, masking the anxiety that churned within her. "I'll handle the front guards," she said, her voice wavering slightly. Spirits, she hoped she was up for the task.

Navigating past the few vorcha was surprisingly easy. However, the krogan could sense an outsider from miles away. Jormun stealthily made his way into the control tower, his heart pounding in his chest. Inside, a lone vorcha loomed over the control panel, eyes fixed on the surveillance cameras monitoring the tunnels. Jormun knew this moment was crucial; the success of their mission depended on the element of surprise.

Jormun's heart pounded like a war drum as he inched forward. The quarian hacker's suit, normally a blessing, now felt like a fragile shell against the looming danger. Each step felt like a lifetime, his nerves stretched to the breaking point. Do'ova watched with bated breath, the tension in the air thick enough to cut.

The vorcha at the control panel remained oblivious, its back turned to the impending threat. Jormun's fingers tightened around the handle of his shotgun, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He moved closer, every muscle in his body taut with fear and anticipation. He was close enough now to smell the creature's rancid breath. Slowly, carefully... until he was right behind it, the shotgun poised to strike.

"Intruders!" A blood pack krogan burst through the side door, his roar echoing through the control tower. Jormun's heart raced as the vorcha at the panel whipped around, eyes narrowing with sudden alertness. The element of surprise was gone, replaced by the raw urgency of survival.

Jormun’s heartbeat thundered in his ears, each pulse a reminder of the stakes. The vorcha turned, snarling, and lunged at him, claws outstretched. Jormun ducked, narrowly avoiding the swipe, and countered with a swift, brutal strike to the creature's side. The impact reverberated through his suit, and pain shot up his arm, but he gritted his teeth and pressed on.

Jormun narrowly dodged the vorcha's savage blow, his movements fueled by pure adrenaline. With a desperate twist, he knocked the creature down, his breath ragged and eyes wild. He barely had time to turn his anxious gaze to the krogan before them.

Do'ova's heart raced as she glanced behind her, eyes widening in horror as the two krogan guards stormed towards them. "Dammit! Dammit!" she swore, her voice trembling. Everything was unraveling at a terrifying pace.

She whipped out her pistol, firing shots in a desperate bid to fend off their relentless enemy. The fiend grinned wickedly, seemingly unfazed by the bullets tearing into him. "How delightful," he sneered, "more rats to crush underfoot."

With a roar, Jormun unloaded a full round into the fiend. The krogan staggered but kept advancing, his eyes burning with rage.

"My turn!" The krogan roared as he rammed full force into Jormun, smashing him onto the grated floor with a bone-shattering thud. Do'ova's breath caught in her throat. Panic set in; she wasn’t trained for this. Her cousins were better fighters, but they weren't here. She had to act. She fired her pistol, the shots echoing through the tower. "Get away from us!" she screamed, her voice trembling with fear and determination as she tried to drag her friend to safety.

He only laughed mockingly at them. Do'ova widely gazed about her. The bloody panel, the unconscious vorcha, the evil krogan... and the overhanging fuel pipe that ran on the ceiling to an outside generator. Her heart raced as she held her breath, took aim, and hoped for a spark. The krogan dodged her bullet, unaware of its true destination.

The small projectile struck the metal pipe perfectly, causing a rupture right above his head. Fumes began to leak out, filling the air with a noxious scent. Tension mounted as Do'ova's mind raced, the seconds feeling like hours. The krogan's laughter ceased, replaced by a look of confusion and anger. She could only hope the situation would turn in their favor, as every moment seemed to teeter on the edge of disaster.

He roared with fury, his voice echoing through the tower. "You really think your paltry salarian tricks can save you now?"

One of the other krogan guards loomed behind her, a menacing shadow signaling imminent doom. It’s all over. Do'ova's heart pounded in her chest like a drum of war. Memories of laughter and learning on the station flashed before her eyes. Her father's words echoed in her mind, a reminder of the harsh realities of their world. She swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the moment.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath, steeling herself for the battle ahead. As she opened them, she fixed her gaze with laser focus on the threat looming before her, ready to act with the fierce determination she never knew she possessed.

The young salarian stood tall, pistol aimed and a determined smirk playing on her lips. "Over here, big guy," she taunted. Do'ova's eyes flicked behind the krogan, her plan taking shape in her mind.

The krogan turned just in time to see Satima hurling her combat knife with lethal precision, embedding it squarely into the eye of the menacing brute behind Do'ova.

With a guttural roar, the krogan stumbled backward, his massive frame crashing over the railing, clawing futilely at the blade lodged in his eye. The impact sent shockwaves of disbelief through their enemies, giving Do'ova and her team the precious seconds they needed.

Do'ova fired again, targeting the same spot on the fuel line. The small spark erupted into a fiery wave that engulfed the other krogan. He screamed in agony, stumbling out of the tower and crashing onto a group of unsuspecting vorcha below. The chaos that ensued was their moment. The flames and confusion provided the perfect cover for them to slip inside, heartbeats racing as they moved swiftly through the pandemonium.

Satima barely managed to dodge the raging krogan and the fiery explosion. Her cheek burned from the scorching flames, and she felt the sting of fresh wounds. Her heart raced as she pressed on, every nerve on edge, knowing that each second could be her last. She needed armor—desperately.

The labyrinthine mines loomed ominously, their passages more foreboding without the tunnel plans. As they ventured deeper, the air grew heavier, stifling their hope. In a dimly lit cavern, they stumbled upon a frail human male, his eyes hollow and haunted. He huddled against the jagged wall, a living testament to the suffering wrought in this forsaken place.

Satima knelt beside him, her voice barely a whisper, laden with urgency. "We're not here to hurt you. We need help. Directions."

She signaled to Do'ova to approach him. The salarian swallowed hard, desperation etched across her face. "My family... they're like me... Salarian. Please, have you seen any of my kind here?" she implored, her voice trembling with fear and hope.

He stood slowly, a shadow of a man, his hollow eyes reflecting the torment of weeks spent in this abyss. Dirt and grime were caked onto his frail form, the endless heat having sapped his strength. "There are some salarians on the third level," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the oppressive silence.

Do'ova thanked him hastily, adrenaline surging through her veins as they sprinted in the direction the man indicated. The tunnel ahead seemed ominous, the air thick with the stench of sweat and fear. Every shadow felt like a potential threat, every sound a prelude to danger. The third level loomed ahead, its entrance barely visible through the dim light.

As they entered, a warm, suffocating breeze hit them, mingled with the pungent smell of rank body odor. The oppressive atmosphere heightened their anxiety, making each step feel heavier with dread. The top entrance seemed like a cruel mirage, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the suffocating darkness. They had to keep moving, their hearts pounding in sync with the mounting tension that filled the air.

A lift carried more workers down to the area. Do'ova scanned with increasing desperation. "I don't see them," she whispered, panic rising in her voice. "What if they aren't here? What if... what if they're dead?!"

In the distance, they heard a male voice shouting orders. The queer part was that it didn't sound like the screech of a vorcha or the loud booming threats of a krogan. Heartbeats quickened as they hurried to the area, taking cover behind some crates. The air was thick with unease; every whispered breath felt like a potential giveaway. Every step felt like a tightrope walk over a chasm of doom. They had to stay hidden, or risk everything.

Jormun peered around him, his eyes scanning their precarious surroundings. "We can't stay here much longer, Satima," he whispered urgently. "Those krogan from the surface will be here any minute. We have to use that lift to escape and reach Haven, or we're finished."

Do'ova's eyes widened in hurt and disbelief. "Jormun, no! I have to find them… why would you even say that?" Her voice broke, the pain evident in every syllable.

He shook his head, "I'm sorry, D. But we're no good to them if we're dead." Jormun touched her arm, "I'll never stop looking for them. But, my friend, I think your father would want you to live. Instead of obsessing over his passing shadow."

Satima felt heartbroken for Do'ova. She briefly tapped the salarian's shoulder. "On my word as captain; I will not let you die under my command. And I won't stop looking for them, either. We're a team." Her smile touched the young salarian, but it didn't last.

The male voice barked again, echoing menacingly through the cavern. "I said get those crates on that lift, now! Prax won't tolerate your sluggish incompetence."

Do'ova listened intently, her heart pounding furiously. She stood up, her eyes narrowing with determination and fear. "Jen?"

Gradually, she stepped into his vicinity. Slowly Do'ova approached her cousin. Clad in crimson salarian armor with a white-skulled pistol to his side. He turned to her. A deep scar that drew a long, crude line across his tan-colored face. "What are you doing here?", he gasped. "You were dead."

Her voice trembled with rage. “You should be dead. What’s really happening here?”

Jen paced in front of her, twitching with an almost manic energy, his hand hovering dangerously close to his gun. "Why, leading? This is my work, my duty. For the glory of Clan Werlock."

Madness. Satima and Jormun cautiously crept forward, their eyes darting around anticipating a vorcha ambush at any moment. The oppressive atmosphere made every sound echo ominously, magnifying their anxiety. In the background, salarians struggled with their arduous labors, beads of sweat glistening under the harsh lights.

"You… work for the Blood Pack?" The shock in her voice was palpable, her eyes wide with disbelief. "Our family? What YOU started on Omega!" Do'ova confronted him, her voice breaking with hurt. "Durlin? Kenota?"

Jen was unsettled by her accusations. "Weak," he spat. "They couldn't defend themselves, let alone our family against anyone. Our family name is a joke in this galaxy. But I'll make it matter again. You're just like them, clinging to memories and shadows. Pathetic! You think you can change anything? You're nothing but a lost child, chasing ghosts."

She breathed heavily, her eyes blazing with fury. "Tell me where they are," Do'ova demanded, gripping her pistol tighter, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. "Now!"

He cocked his head, a sinister grin spreading across his face. "They are somewhere far beyond your reach. You'll never find them. And I will make sure of that."

Do'ova gasped, her mind racing with torment and desperation. Will she ever see them again? The thought gnawed at her fiercely, the uncertainty and fear clawing at her very soul.

Do'ova's mind was a storm of anguish, her father's haunting whispers urging her to relinquish the past. The image of her mother's lifeless form etched into her memory, thesinister blood pact tearing them apart for their own cruel amusement. Jen gave up. Jen gave in. Jen… a traitor too. Blood Pack. Directive. All of them. The betrayal cut deeper than any wound.

"I can't get you to tell me where you've put them. But there are other ways to obtain this information." Her voice was a razor's edge, cutting through the air. Satima knew what was about to happen. Jormun shouted for D to stop and think, but it was too late.

Jen lay on the ground, a pool of green spreading around him, mirroring the lifeless form of her mother. His eyes were wide open, fixed on the jagged rock ceiling above, as if frozen in the moment of betrayal.

Workers paused, their eyes drawn to the unfolding scene. Do'ova knelt beside him, her fingers trembling as she activated her omni-tool. The tense silence was evident as she desperately copied the coordinates, knowing every second counted. Any mistake could mean the difference between life and death.

She stood up to Satima standing in her way. They stared at each other for that short moment, a fiery intensity crackling in the air between them. The hybrid searched deeply, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Jormun, send a short-range virus to the local camera systems," she said, her voice a tense whisper. "I want it grainy and incapable of visuals." He nodded, quickly moving to comply with the urgent directive.

The workers scrambled onto the lift, their movements frantic and desperate. Vorcha gunfire erupted, sparking chaos as bullets ricocheted off metal surfaces. Shouts of alarm filled the air. Haven's crew managed to escape with the first wave, leaving behind the many more trapped below. The urgency of their departure was tangible, every second a perilous gamble. The ship's engines roared to life, cutting through the mayhem as they made their hasty retreat.

Satima deftly maneuvered the ship through the chaotic void, guiding her crew and their rescued companions away from the turmoil.

The flight was steeped in an ominous silence. Jormun hurriedly passed out food and medical supplies, sensing the weight of every precious moment. One of the salarians, too weak from severe malnutrition, succumbed to his fate. The crew solemnly conducted a space send-off, the cold void claiming another soul.

Satima deftly navigated through the chaos, dropping off the remaining survivors at a human support station.

They welcomed the survivors of the mines, offering the crew a brief respite onboard. Do'ova stayed to herself, her mind a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. The relief of obtaining answers was overshadowed by the gnawing urgency to find her family. The weight of uncertainty hung heavily in the air, palpable and oppressive, like a storm about to break.

Every glance, every movement was laden with a sense of impending confrontation, as if the very walls of the station were closing in on them.
Satima couldn't sleep. She wandered the dimly lit corridors of the station, surrounded by a sea of unfamiliar human faces. The hybrid grew up amidst a myriad of aliens and other twisted creations of the directive, beings far removed from those who now surrounded her.

The weight of their recent ordeal clung heavily to her, each step echoing with the gravity of their escape and the uncertainty of the future.

The truth of her genetic template soured her hunger. Too distraught to eat, she found solace in the observatory. The vast window revealed a somber portrait of the cosmos. Stars and nebulas painted the scene, a dark beauty that mirrored her turbulent emotions.

Blues and purples danced across the observation window, interspersed with golden tendrils and rose-colored dust. Smaller gas giants pirouetted through the cosmos as if participating in some celestial ballet. The scene was mesmerizing but the hour was growing late.

Her heart raced as she thought about their next mission. The looming specter of Tuchunka awaited them, its reputation for danger and bloodshed gnawing at her nerves. She could only hope that this time, they wouldn't face the same perilous issues with the blood packs.

Footsteps shattered the fragile silence, pulling her from her thoughts. A woman, clad in deep blue armor, materialized beside her. Raven hair cut sharply to just above her shoulders framed a face marred by old, scorching burns. The left cheek, a patchwork of pink and rosy scars, contrasted starkly with the otherwise smooth skin of this human.

"I've seen countless horrors on the battlefield that looked less monstrous than you," the woman began, her tone dripping with disdain. "None of them had a shred of humanity left. They were all controlled, mere husks of their former selves."

A cold shiver ran down Satima's spine, the woman's words cutting deep, her presence suffocating. The stark contrast between the smooth skin and the marred, rosy scars on her cheek seemed to mirror the duality of her nature—calm on the surface, but roiling with darkness underneath.

Satima took an uneasy step back, her heart pounding in her chest. The woman's grip tightened around her arm, preventing her retreat. Satima's pulse quickened, a sense of dread creeping up her spine as she was forced to confront the human's piercing gaze.

The human's eyes bore into Satima with a piercing gaze, filled with an unsettling mixture of curiosity and malice. "I could keep you here," she whispered, her breath a rancid cocktail of stale booze. "See what you really are. But she will come for you. She'll kill us all and take you back."

The female leaned in closer. "The last day I saw your genetic supplier-Reaper, you know what she said, right after killing half of her crew?"

Satima's heart pounded in her chest as she forced herself to nod in reluctant compliance.

"She said, 'Is submission not preferable to extinction?'" The woman laughed, her voice a chilling echo in the quiet observatory. "You know who else said that? Saren. The turian who betrayed an entire galaxy. And we killed him."

There was something off in her gaze, a flicker of unhinged malice. Her voice cracked with a menacing edge, and her breath was a rancid cocktail of stale booze, thick and nauseating.

The hybrid ran back to Haven, her breaths shallow and rapid, heart pounding like a drum in her chest. Jormun had finished with diagnostics as Do'ova sat in the mess, her eyes darting up in concern as Satima burst into the room. The weight of the encounter bore heavily on her, her gaze wild and unfocused. Sweat beaded on her brow, and her hands trembled uncontrollably.

Do'ova watched her brave captain shut herself into her quarters, the door closing with an unsettling finality. Inside the confined space, Satima's fear clawed at her insides, every shadow a potential threat, every creak of the ship a harbinger of doom. The silence that followed was deafening, the quiet only amplifying her dread.

Satima huddled in the corner of her room, her knees pulled tightly to her chest. Her heart pounded wildly as her mind raced with questions. Who was that woman? Why did she speak with such menace? And who was that Saren she mentioned? The shadows in her quarters seemed to move with a life of their own, each creak and groan of the ship amplifying her dread.

A sudden knock shattered the heavy silence in her quarters. The door creaked open, revealing Jormun's concerned face peeking inside. He stepped in cautiously, his eyes never leaving Satima's. "What happened?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

She shook her head, now standing from her sitting position. “I encountered someone... unsettling. Her words were filled with a darkness that I can’t shake. She mentioned Reaper and something... someone terrifying. I don’t want to talk about it.”

Satima stood trembling before him, still feeling the icy grip of dread lingering from her encounter. Jormun's eyes, filled with concern, never left her as he carefully closed the door, locking it with a soft click. He began to remove his helmet, revealing a face etched with worry and determination.

His captain watched in confusion, her heart pounding. "What are you doing?" she demanded, grabbing his helmet to place it back over his head. "You could get sick!"

Jormun shrugged, letting the helmet fall to the floor with a nonchalant toss. His lavender eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief. "I don't care about that right now. I want to be with you, comfort you. I love you, Satima."

She took a hesitant step toward him, her hand trembling as she placed it gently on his chest. "And if you get sick? Because of me?" Her voice wavered, a mix of fear and longing intertwining in her words.

He pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her protests before gently cupping her chin. His touch was tender, filled with unspoken promises. As he drew her closer, their breaths mingled, and his lips met hers with a fervent, undeniable passion. Satima hesitated for a moment, her teal eyes searching his, finding only love and unwavering resolve.
She began to lead him to her cot with a sultry smile. 

Chapter Text

Old Mars Facility

Garrus expertly maneuvered the fighter onto the rusted docking pad with a precision that spoke of countless missions. As the engines powered down, an unsettling silence enveloped them. They shared a glance, the weight of their mission clear in their eyes.

"Ready?" Reaper asked, her voice steady but tinged with anticipation.
"Always," Garrus replied, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
They donned their gear with practiced ease, helmets snapping into place and weapons primed. The hatch door hissed open, revealing the desolate expanse of the Old Mars Facility before them. The air was thick with the scent of decay and memories of battles long past.

Every step they took resonated in the emptiness, a stark reminder of the facility's former glory and current desolation. But beneath the surface, a palpable tension simmered, a sense that they were not alone.
"This isn't completely abandoned. Reaper forces have reported stalker activity here," she cautioned, her voice barely above a whisper.

"As long as there are no giant mutant space spiders, I'm totally thrilled," Garrus replied with a biting sarcasm.

She glanced at him as the hatch door opened, a puzzled expression crossing her face. "What?"

"Forget about it," he replied with a playful shrug.

Inside the atrium, Reaper's eyes were immediately drawn to the swirling time distortion hovering above the reception desk. The remnants of the once bustling facility lay in disarray, with shards of broken glass and twisted metal strewn across their path. Each step echoed ominously in the cavernous space, amplifying the sense of desolation that loomed over them.

The facility seemed to hold its breath as Reaper and Garrus ventured deeper into its shadows, every creak and distant whisper amplifying the tension. Memories of Cerberus and the Protheans flashed through Reaper's mind, drawing parallels to battles fought and lives nearly lost. She could still hear the gunfire on that rooftop, Ashley's life hanging in the balance.

A sudden movement up ahead snapped her back to the present. She signaled for Garrus to halt, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the darkness. Something was here, lurking just beyond their vision, waiting for the right moment to strike.

She glanced at Garrus, her heart pounding, and then suddenly a crack opened in the middle of the room, dark energy tearing through time. Her breath hitched as the air seemed to freeze around them, the sense of imminent danger intensifying.

They swiftly ducked behind a crumbling wall, just as five stalkers emerged from the shadows, their movements precise and menacing. Following them was a figure in distinctive armor—female, and clearly of higher rank.

She removed her helmet, her eyes scanning the room with a cold, calculating intensity. "They're here. Form a search pattern," she commanded, her voice like steel. The stalkers immediately fanned out, each step echoing ominously in the desolate facility. Garrus remained hidden behind the crumbling wall, his senses heightened, knowing Reaper was already moving towards the other side.

The air crackled with barely contained energy as the two women sized each other up. Each second stretched into an eternity before the taller female finally broke the silence. "Reaper, I wonder why you came here?"
Reaper raised an eyebrow, a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. "Who are you?", she asked, her voice laced with both suspicion and intrigue. "And how do you know me?"

The alien female gave a short smile, "I am a Sentarian. And I've known you for quite some time." Her words, surprisingly devoid of immediate threat, brought an unexpected wave of relief to Reaper. She relaxed her stance slightly, curiosity now mingling with the sense of tension that had filled the air moments before.
...........................................................................
Tuchunka
Wasteland outskirts

Their ship touched down on the roof of what once was a bustling hospital, now a ghostly remnant of its former self. Reaper had spoken of this place, filled with memories and secrets. Satima meticulously ensured their arrival was unnoticed, scanning the facility four times before finally stepping out of the ship, her eyes wary and alert.

Outside, the wind howled, whipping up clouds of sand and grit that stung their eyes and scratched their skin. Satima pulled out a pair of welding goggles, slipping them on to shield her eyes from the swirling debris. Jormun, protected by his helmet, stared ahead undeterred.

Coughing sounds escaped from Jormun, who swiftly injected himself with antibiotics before they landed. Satima noticed his brief moment of weakness but chose not to comment, aware of their shared secret. The illness had been a consequence of their previous intimacy, a reality they both silently acknowledged but never spoke about.

Do'ova stepped forward, her eyes sweeping across the desolate landscape of sandy valleys and jagged rocks. The ruins of old krogan buildings loomed in the distance, some still standing defiantly against the ravages of time. "I've only heard stories about this planet," she murmured, a note of awe in her voice. "It seems as though it’s slowly reclaiming its lost glory."

Indeed, the ruins sprawled across the landscape like the skeletal remains of a once mighty civilization. The outskirts, now a wasteland, whispered their stories through the crumbling metropolises and ancient constructs that still stood defiantly against time.

As they moved forward, the first light of dawn painted the desert countryside in hues of gold and rose. The eerie silence was palpable, as not a single creature stirred in the vast expanse. It was too quiet, the kind of quiet that screamed of latent danger. Every shadow seemed to hold a threat, and the hairs on the back of their necks stood on end as they navigated this desolate world.

This was a place where vigilance was not just important—it was essential for survival.

As they ventured inside, Satima took charge, leading them through the abandoned corridors. Within an hour, they had transformed one of the lobbies into a makeshift base, its small balcony offering a side view of the eerie courtyard below. "We'll need to set up a perimeter tomorrow. Who knows what dangers might be lurking out there," Jormun remarked, his voice filled with determination and a hint of apprehension.

Satima's eyes narrowed as she agreed with a curt nod. She watched Do'ova, who sat apart, her fingers trembling slightly as she operated her omni-tool, desperately searching for any trace of her family. The oppressive silence of the wasteland pressed in on them, every creak and gust of wind amplifying the sense of impending danger.

................................................................................
Mars

Garrus couldn't suppress his growing unease as he listened to the exchange. "I am Akasia Vael, engineer of the Sentarian Command Carrier," she introduced, her voice steady despite the tension. "I've been trying to connect with you for some time, but you departed the HIVE rather abruptly. I suspect it was in pursuit of the hybrid girl, intending to take your place."

Reaper's eyes narrowed, her tone brimming with warning. "She didn't."

"Indeed. Your steadfast efforts to shield her have not gone unnoticed," Akasia replied, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Our Commander has issued direct orders to secure both you and the hybrid. We possess the means to shield you from the Directive's reach."

Reaper's eyes flashed with fury. "I don't need protection. It's Satima who needs a sanctuary. She's the one they're after."

"You're both in grave danger. Your genetic modifications and the extensive use of reaper synthetic technology have made you the prime target," Akasia revealed, her voice tinged with genuine worry.

Garrus stopped, his eyes darting between the others. "The what now?"

Akasia dramatically extended her arm, revealing an advanced omni-tool that projected a detailed holographic schematic of the citadel and the crucible. "We possess the means to overwrite The Intelligence-Directive. It's called Synthesis," she declared, her voice filled with a mix of urgency and hope.

Reaper's eyebrow arched at this revelation, her cautious expression making Akasia fidget nervously.

"Uh, the survival rate is quite low," Akasia continued, her voice trembling slightly. "Using the old intelligence to alter the course of history is fraught with unpredictability."

Reaper's face contorted with fury, her eyes blazing as she clenched her fists so tightly that her knuckles turned white. "Survival rate? Changing history?" Her voice rose to a dangerous pitch, each word dripping with venom. "Am I to understand that you've known about the Directive and me all this time and have done nothing—NOTHING—to stop them?" She roared, the sheer intensity of her rage making the very air around her crackle with tension.

"And you expect me to agree to an impossible experiment?" Reaper glared dangerously at the Sentarian. "I am the perfect fusion of organic and inorganic, created to bring the will of the directive to this galaxy. The Reapers finally have their wish; a human Reaper made flesh." Her voice was ice, every word laden with finality. "I am their ultimate weapon, and I will not be manipulated into your schemes."

Garrus felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead as he watched the unfolding drama. The thought of Reaper resuming her role as the Directive's ultimate weapon filled him with dread. Akasia's fear was palpable, her eyes wide with terror as she took a hesitant step back.
Akasia stammered, her voice quivering, "Your cybernetic and genetic makeup could possibly stop them for good. I only ask for you to please listen. If you can help us purge the galaxy of the reapers, wouldn't you do anything to achieve those means?"

Garrus's heart pounded in his chest, his fear for Satima's safety growing with every second. He glanced nervously between Reaper and Akasia, uncertain of what to do. The stakes had never been higher, and the tension was suffocating.

If she weren't there to protect her... "No," Reaper spat, turning abruptly to leave. Garrus hesitated, then followed, his heart pounding with every step.

Akasia's voice broke as she sprinted after them. "No! You can't just walk away! You could end this nightmare! You can stop them, and you know it!" Her desperation was visible, each word a plea. "You're condemning us all! You're being selfish for a person who had sworn to protect the galaxy," she cried out, her voice cracking under the weight of the peril they faced.
Reaper stopped abruptly, the intensity of her gaze locking onto Akasia. "I'm taking my family and leaving this cursed galaxy for good. Survive if you can. I'm done being your shield," she hissed, her voice a razor's edge of defiance.

In another time, before Satima, the Shepard inside Reaper would've agreed. Now, every fiber of her being screamed against it, but she didn't care about her fate—only about keeping Satima safe.

"Callon will take her!" Akasia shouted across the landing pad, her voice cracking under pressure. "He'll seize the hybrid girl no matter how you feel. He'll use her to stop the Directive, and she'll die!"
Reaper snapped her head towards Akasia, her eyes blazing with barely contained fury. "Is that a threat?" she hissed, her voice dripping with menace.

"Not from me," Akasia's voice wavered with desperation. "We need to work together. We must find a way—any way—that doesn't involve more death. But you have to help me. Please, I'm begging you."

"Why?" Garrus's voice was now tinged with fear, the weight of their situation pressing heavily on his mind. His concern for Satima's safety was evident in every syllable.

"Everything is not what it seems," Akasia began, her voice wavering. "You and the hybrid, all this chaos... It shouldn't have happened." She paused, glancing nervously at Reaper. "I... I didn't know how to tell you. But there's more at play here than we realized."
Reaper's eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "What do you mean?"

Akasia's eyes flickered with a mixture of fear and determination. "Control," she whispered, her voice barely audible, yet carrying a weight that could shatter worlds.

......................................................................................................
Tuchunka-Abandoned Hospital

Satima leaned against Jormun's arm, her eyelids heavy with exhaustion. The events of the past hours had drained her, and she found solace in his embrace. Jormun held her close, his heartbeat quickening at the nearness of her.

Jormun's mind drifted to a cherished memory, the world around him fading into a soft blur. He remembered Satima nestled against him, their bodies entwined like the delicate vines on Pragia. Her warmth was a comforting presence, and the rhythm of her breathing synchronized with his own heartbeat. The way her fingers traced gentle patterns on his skin, the soft murmur of her voice as she whispered sweet nothings into his ear—it was a moment of pure connection, a sanctuary from the chaos that surrounded them. Lost in the memory of her bare and lovely form, he held onto the fleeting sense of peace and love they had shared, a beacon of light in the dark void of their reality.

He let out a deep sigh, shaking off the sweet yet distracting memories, and turned his focus back to the perimeter. His senses sharpened, ready for any sign of danger.

Do’ova wandered the upper levels, her eyes wide with curiosity as she took in the twilight-hued landscape. The vast expanse stretched before her, dominated by the imposing thresher maws rising from the sands like ancient guardians. They stood tall, their massive forms silhouetted against the dimming sky, seemingly searching for something unseen. The air was thick with an eerie stillness, as if the world itself was holding its breath in anticipation.

The sun had started to set, casting long, ominous shadows across the room. Jormun felt a heavy pull on his eyelids, his exhaustion almost overtaking him. He closed his eyes slowly, only to snap them open again as one of the shadows moved—a flicker at the edge of his vision, a silhouette that shouldn't be there. Panic surged through his chest, his heart pounding as his senses sharpened, on high alert for the threat lurking in the darkness.

"...Satima...", he whispered urgently, his voice trembling with fear.

She didn't stir at first. "Satima. Get up," he whispered urgently, his voice filled with dread. Her eyes fluttered open, only to be met with the sight of four imposing krogan looming over them. In a frantic scramble, they tried to get to their feet, their movements desperate and hurried.

"Welcome... to Tuchunka," the bigger one hissed, his voice dripping with menace. Before they could react, they were both grabbed and knocked unconscious, the world around them fading into a suffocating darkness.
....................................................................................................

Jormun jolted awake, his senses assaulted by the cold, sharp reality of hanging upside down over a pit teeming with ferocious varren. The creatures snapped and snarled, their teeth glistening in the dim light. "Shit!" he yelled, panic surging through his veins. Desperately, he tried to use his upper body strength to pull himself up, his muscles straining against the binds. Each attempt left him dangling just inches from the varren's slavering jaws, their hot breath a constant reminder of the danger below. His heart pounded in his chest, the sound echoing in his ears like a war drum.

He heard a muffled sound from in front, his eyes snapping to the sight of Satima being dragged to a towering krogan in menacing red armor. Do'ova was shoved roughly behind her, their wrists cruelly bound together with coarse rope.

The krogan male waved to one of the others, and they were roughly thrown before him. "Overgrown jerks!" Satima shouted, her voice trembling with defiance. The room fell silent, all eyes on the intruders. The krogan, predominantly male, watched intently, while a few females from higher levels observed with cold, calculating eyes, their jeweled-toned shawls shimmering in the low light.

Each heartbeat echoed loudly in the oppressive stillness, heightening the tension. The firelight flickered erratically, casting ominous shadows that danced across the walls, amplifying the sense of impending danger.
"Well boys, it looks like we caught some whelps," the bigger krogan snarled with a sinister grin.

"A quarian boy!" a female jested from above, her voice dripping with mockery. Her comment incited an eruption of laughter and roars, echoing through the halls with a cacophony of derision.

One of the younger males sneered at Do'ova, his voice dripping with disdain. "Cowardly lizard!" The insult struck like a dagger. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to maintain her focus.

Satima's eyes darted around, her heart thundering in her chest. The rope binding her wrists was so tight it cut into her flesh with every movement, sending sharp waves of pain radiating up her arms. She winced but forced herself to stay alert. All her blades had been confiscated, even the ones she'd hidden with such care. The air was thick with menace, and the krogan's mocking laughter echoed in her ears like the tolling of a death knell.

Satima's mind raced, trying to grasp who among the krogan orchestrated this. Jormun dangled helplessly above the pit of snapping varren, his feet struggling against the binds with every desperate attempt to free himself, only to fall back with a pained grunt. The ache in his back growing unbearable. "Let her go!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the mocking laughter that filled the air.

"I could. Maybe see how she fares in the pit," the krogan male smirked, his voice dripping with malice. "Or perhaps test if the salarian youngling can outrun my pit hounds?" The hall erupted in a cacophony of mocking laughter, the sound bouncing off the walls like thunder.

Satima gulped, her voice trembling with desperation. "With no weapons? I thought the krogan had honor!"

He leaned out of his grand seat, his eyes narrowing as he glared at her. "Honor is something earned, not given to the weak."
Satima's eyes blazed with defiance. "I am not weak!" she shouted, her voice reverberating through the hall like a defiant war cry.

Do'ova's eyes darted around the room, her mind racing with conflicting thoughts. Part of her wanted to flee this place, to live another day and search for her family. But another part of her wanted to fight, to stand her ground despite the odds.

Poor Jormun was jerked above the varren, "Satima...how about not shouting at the krogan." He pleaded, nervously.

Satima's voice quivered with a mix of fear and defiance. "We sought refuge from HIVE, hoping to find allies among the krogan.” She trembled, her anger barely masking her terror. “My mother promised me safety here, but all you’ve offered is threats and cruelty.”

The big krogan held out a hand to silence the roars and murmurs, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. "Your mother? You don't look krogan to me. Speak, female. Who is your mother?" He leaned closer, his voice a low growl, as if anticipating a deceit or betrayal. The air grew thick with tension, every eye in the room now fixed on Satima, waiting for her to reveal the truth she held.

Jormun swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest as Satima began to speak, her voice barely more than a whisper. "Re-Reaper," she stammered, the weight of the name hanging heavy in the air.

The older krogan watching gasped or shook their heads in disbelief. The bigger krogan, clearly their leader, loomed over her with an intimidating presence, his expression darkening with menace.

His gaze was full of scorn. "You have spoken of our clan's enemy. Your blood association warrants death. Reaper-born." The crowd erupted in fury, their roars echoing through the hall. Satima's heart pounded in her chest, fear gripping her tightly as she realized the danger she and her crew were in.

The krogan leader leaned closer, his eyes gleaming with a predatory glint. "You will speak to the elder. Now!" His voice thundered through the hall, silencing the murmurs and sending a chill down Satima's spine.

Satima was dragged through the dimly lit corridors, her heart racing as she watched Jormun being cut down and quickly pulled away from the hungry varren pit. Do'ova kicked and struggled, her screams echoing ominously as she was led away with him. Satima's mind raced with fear and determination; at least they were together, not separated. No one wants to die alone.

Now led down a corridor into a long hallway, the atmosphere thickened with a palpable sense of menace. Many females and some younglings watched, their eyes narrow and hissing threats under their breath.
They stepped inside a foreboding chamber, dimly lit and filled with an almost palpable air of dread. The room was a stark contrast between ancient relics and cutting-edge medical technology. An aged krogan, clearly on the brink of death, was connected to various life-support systems. Trophies of past victories adorned the walls, casting long, eerie shadows.

The most striking feature was a deep, jagged scar that cut across his face, telling a story of countless battles fought and survived. His eyes, though weary, held a fierce intensity, as if he was not yet ready to surrender to the inevitable.

She could feel the weight of his gaze, the air thickening around her. This was no ordinary room; it exuded an aura of impending conflict, life and death intertwining in the dim light. The larger krogan shoved her closer, his grip unyielding. "This female has claimed relation to the Reaper, our sworn enemy. What is your advisement?" he demanded, his voice echoing ominously through the chamber.

The older krogan leaned out, his bones cracking audibly, causing a musty, ancient odor to seep through the room. Satima gulped, her heart pounding as his intense gaze bore into her. "Rex. More light," he commanded, his voice deep and filled with authority. The tension in the air was visible as Rex obeyed, leaving Satima to stand alone, exposed in the dim light, her fate hanging by a thread.

With more torches lit around them, the older krogan used his good eye to scrutinize her. He cocked his old head twice, a gesture heavy with suspicion. Jormun and Do'ova were dragged in, forced to kneel, their eyes wide with terror as they clung to each other. Satima made a quick, fearful glance before returning her gaze to the krogan. The elder krogan's voice cut through the silence like a knife. "Kill it," he commanded.

Roars echoed through the chamber as Satima was forcefully dragged away. "No! You son of a bitch! I'm not the enemy. I was a prisoner of the directive! They made me!" she screamed, her voice cracking with desperation.

The older krogan raised a hand and bellowed, "STOP!" His eyes narrowed, trying to grasp something elusive in her features, a flicker of recognition that gnawed at the edge of his memory. The tension in the room ratcheted up a notch, every breath held in anticipation of his next move.
He stood with a pained expression and walked slowly toward them. His eyes gleamed with a mix of rage and sorrow. "They made you?" he asked, his voice a dangerous whisper.

Satima wrested her arms from the krogan holding her, "Yes. Reaper isn't like she used to be. She's changed." The murmurs of the crowd grew louder, anticipation crackling in the air. Satima's voice trembled with urgency, "Right now she and Garrus are trying to find a way to stop them."

The old krogan stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. His eyes bored into her, a storm of anger and suspicion brewing within. "How do you know that name?" he growled.

“Garrus?” She stammered, her voice barely audible. “He... he saved me on Omega. And back on the HIVE station, with Reaper. They're on Mars right now. Reaper told me to come here. That I would be safe from the directive.”

He stared at Satima, his demeanor softening as a distant memory flickered in his eyes. Her ginger hair and bright round face stirred something deep within him. Those eyes—so reminiscent of turian features—struck a chord. "Shepard... my friend,” the older krogan murmured, his voice tinged with nostalgia and loss.

He then gazed at Satima with a somber expression, the weight of his past evident in his eyes. "And safe... you will be," he said with a solemn nod, as if offering protection and solace in memory of old alliances and battles hard-fought.
.........................................................................
Mars

Garrus paced back and forth, his mind racing. He glanced over at Reaper, trying to measure the depth of her conviction. "Are you seriously considering trusting her?" he asked, the skepticism evident in his tone.

Reaper took a deep breath, her gaze unwavering. "I don't have much of a choice. It's nothing I can't handle," she finally replied, her voice resolute.
"Nothing we can't handle. Remember, we're in this together—for Satima," Garrus reminded her, his tone a mix of determination and reassurance.

Reaper gave him an anxious glance, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. "Garrus… I appreciate your help in protecting Satima. But there's something you don't know." Her voice wavered, revealing the internal struggle she faced in keeping the secret.

Garrus turned to her. "What is it?"

Before Reaper could continue, Akasia interjected, her eyes glinting with urgency. "I know you need a moment to process everything, but our time here is limited."

Reaper nodded, determination etched on her face. "Alright, I'll go and meet your commander. Let's uncover what this template project is all about." She gestured for Akasia to lead the way.

They stepped through the glowing green rift and were instantly transported onto another ship. Both Reaper and Garrus felt their stomachs churn from the sudden shift, the nauseating pull of the singularity leaving them disoriented. Garrus fought back the urge to vomit as they took in their new surroundings. This ship, while equally dark, lacked the menacing aura of HIVE. "Where are we?" Garrus managed to ask, confusion lacing his voice.

"This is the command carrier," Akasia explained, her voice carrying a hint of pride. "We venture in small, agile groups to evade the reapers. They can't track us back to our home this way."

"Back to where exactly?" Reaper asked, her voice tinged with suspicion and curiosity, still reeling from the disorienting journey through the rift.

"Home," Akasia lamented, her crystal-clear eyes flickering with a hint of nostalgia and pain. She quickly turned away from their probing stares, leading them through the bay.

As they stepped inside, Akasia led them briskly through the bay area and into an elevator. The smooth, efficient motion of the lift contrasted starkly with the chaos they'd just left behind. The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing the command deck where Callon awaited their arrival.

A towering figure emerged before them, clad in the sleek, ebony armor that marked the rank of a Sentarian commander. The Sentarians, known for their imposing height and jade green skin, bore a striking resemblance to humans, though their hair shimmered with an almost otherworldly quality.

As Callon gazed toward them, a wide grin spread across his face, his black eyes glistening under the deck's lighting. "Welcome to the Requite. I am delighted you have agreed to join us. Tell me, where is your hybrid replacement? Has the Directive already disposed of her?" His tone dripped with curiosity, making the air around them thrum with an uneasy tension.

Akasia spoke before Reaper could answer, "No, Commander. She is alive and well, on Tuchunka."

Reaper stepped forward, her voice laced with suspicion. "How do you know who she is?"

Callon ignored her question, his expression unreadable. "Good. We will chart a course to retrieve her." He turned away, his gaze fixed on the stars beyond the command deck's window. The silence in the room was palpable, the air thick with unspoken tension. "In the meantime, Reaper," his voice dropped to a low, ominous tone, "please, make yourself comfortable." He gestured towards the door, an unsettling calmness in his demeanor.

As they moved through the barracks, Akasia led them with a sense of purpose, pointing out various sections as if giving a guided tour. Her eyes flickered with an underlying tension, aware of Reaper's piercing gaze never leaving her. "This is where our soldiers rest and prepare for missions," she explained, her voice carrying a mix of pride and unease.
Reaper's mind raced, her suspicions growing with every step. How did these Sentarians know so much? She resolved to find answers, her determination mirrored in her cold, calculating eyes.

These Sentarians have too much knowledge for a species unknown to her and the Directive. Reaper's mind raced with suspicion as she thought of catching the unsuspecting young woman alone and extracting answers through interrogation.

They eventually ended up on the quarters' deck. Akasia's voice carried a tense edge as she spoke, "My sister is a soldier, much like you. She is fiercely loyal to Callon and his command."

Reaper grabbed the woman's arm, fingers digging into Akasia's arm like a vice, her grip unyielding. Akasia's eyes widened with panic, a desperate plea escaping her lips. "Let me go! Please!" She knew the fearsome reputation of the Reaper and the consequences of defiance.

Holding firm, Reaper began twisting Akasia's arm with relentless force. She brought the taller woman closer, her menacing glare sending waves of terror through Akasia. "Your commander knows far too much."
Akasia struggles to wrest her arm from Reaper, but the villain's grip is unyielding. "My sister will see this, and she'll kill you!" Desperation laces her voice as she glances towards Garrus. "Stop her…"

Reaper twisted harder, making Akasia wince. The young woman held back a whimper, her eyes wide with fear and desperation.

"Good, because if she doesn't kill me, then you better start running back to whatever part of the universe you come from." Reaper released Akasia, who stumbled back, clutching her arm. Reaper's eyes narrowed, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "If any harm comes to Satima, I will hunt you down, no matter where you hide, no matter how far you go. And when I find you, I'll make you wish you had never crossed me."

Akasia cradles her injured arm, her breath quickening as fear etches across her face. She takes a hesitant step back, her eyes never leaving Reaper's cold, calculating stare.

Reaper turns to Garrus, who is visibly agitated. His mandibles twitch in suppressed anger, his eyes narrowing as he grapples with Reaper's ruthless methods. "Is this really necessary?" he demands.

She sighs, her voice heavy with grim resolve. "I must protect Satima, no matter the cost."

Garrus stares at her, his moral compass struggling in the murky waters of ambiguity. The tension between his duty and his principles weighs heavily on him. He despises the grey, but here he stands, entangled in its grasp.

"I'll help protect her, in whatever way I can," Garrus finally said, his voice solemn and heavy with unspoken burdens. The weight of the promise he just made seemed to crush his spirit, but the connection he felt to Satima compelled him forward.

He watched Reaper's cold, unyielding demeanor, realizing the grim path they were treading. A shiver ran down his spine as the silence of the barracks pressed in on them, amplifying the tension that crackled in the air.
.................................................................................
Back on Tuchunka

Jormun stepped beside Satima, watching her toss chunks of raw pyjack meat to the eager varren below. "Why are you feeding them?" he asked, his voice tinged with irritation. "They're dangerous creatures."

Satima giggled, "Not anymore. Look at them—they're practically begging for belly rubs!" One of the varren tilted its head and gave her the most pathetic puppy eyes. "Here, you go, you big softie," she said, tossing another piece of meat. "That's a good boy!"

Jormun's eyes rolled in exasperation.

"You know, I think Rambler likes me," she announced with delight. "He's practically wagging his tail... if only he had one!"

"Keelah! You're naming them? They were trying to eat me!" Jormun exclaimed, his voice a mix of disbelief and humor.

"Don't shout, you big baby! You're scaring him!", Satima yelled, storming off.

"Yeah, right. Sure, he's a real sweetheart," Jormun said with exaggerated sarcasm as he glanced at Rambler, who growled back in response.

Inside the old krogan's room, Satima watched closely as Rex argued passionately with the elder. "Father, harboring these fugitives puts us all in grave danger. We've kept our home safe by staying out of outsiders' affairs," he implored, his voice charged with urgency.

"They will remain under my protection...", he began coughing violently. A minute of spitting krogan blood and bile passed by, until his fit subsided." I know what Reaper is, I know the woman she was before the machines came." His coughing made it harder to breathe.

Rex helped him with medicine, trying to calm his sire. "This reaper-born could bring doom to our planet.", he argued.

Rex's eyes narrowed as he caught sight of Satima, his grip tightening as he led her forcefully away from the door. "Eavesdropping, are we?" he growled, his voice dripping with warning.

"I didn't mean to," Satima said, a blend of apology and defiance in her voice as she wriggled free from Rex's grip.

They stood on a stone terrace overlooking the desert, the cool night wind whipping around them. "My father says you can stay for as long as you like. But I think you should leave," Rex said, his voice low and tense. "Not because I don't like you, but because you are dangerous. The Directive will come looking, and my people will suffer for it."

Satima glanced down, her voice barely a whisper. "I'm sorry I came. I thought we could lay low for a while and wait on Reaper. We'll leave in the morning before the sun fully rises."

He regarded her with a weary sigh. "You don't have to rush off, but let's just say I'd sleep easier knowing your stay is brief."

Satima nodded thoughtfully, her eyes flickering to the imposing rifle slung across Rex's back. Curiosity gnawed at her. "I do have a question," she ventured, hesitating only for a moment. "Where are my weapons? I noticed some of the more... discreet ones were missing."

Rex grinned, revealing rows of intimidating teeth. "In my locker," he said, his voice laced with amusement. He turned on his heel, leaving Satima alone on the terrace, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.

She fumed, feeling the heat of her blush rise even in the cool night air. Frustration mingled with her embarrassment, making her shift awkwardly from foot to foot. She clenched her fists, muttering under her breath, "Of course, he would find this amusing."
......................................................................
Sentarian Command

The command carrier hovered ominously over the desolate landscape of Tuchunka, casting a shadow on the scorched earth below. Inside, tension crackled through the air as Callon ordered his elite team to rift into the hospital and capture Satima before HIVE could make their move.
Reaper, her eyes blazing with defiance, stepped forward. "There are no hostiles down there," she exclaimed, her voice sharp with outrage. "This mission is unnecessary and reckless!"

"With all due respect, Reaper—or should I say... Commander? I am in charge of this mission. We will retrieve the hybrid swiftly. My team will ensure she is brought to us," he declared, his gaze unwavering and intense.

Callon nodded sharply to his communications officer, who immediately relayed the order over their comms. Reaper tried to suppress the sting of his insult at her past title, her heart pounding as the mission teetered on the edge of chaos.

Akasia interjected, her voice taut with tension, "Sir, Satima will run when she sees us. She won't from Reaper." Remembering the earlier threat, she quickly averted her eyes from the abomination. The cybernetic tendrils trailing from the Reaper seemed to pulse with a menacing energy.

Callon glared towards the directive's reaper, his eyes narrowing with intensity. "Your sister will accompany her," he commanded, his voice a low growl. "No compromises."

Reaper’s gaze was cold, calculating. “Understood,” she replied, her tone devoid of emotion. Her cybernetic tendrils twitched slightly, as if sensing the underlying danger.

Akasia swallowed hard, knowing that any misstep could be catastrophic. She glanced nervously at her sister, Mem-Zurah, who stood ready, her grip tight on her rifle.

The Sentarian's heart raced. Kin sha, this is spiraling out of control, she thought, fighting to suppress a wave of panic.

Moments later, Mem-Zurah, Akasia's resolute sister, guided Reaper through a rift into the hospital where Satima was hidden.

Garrus remained behind, bristling with unease about Callon's commands. Since the inception of this perilous mission, he had come to realize just how minuscule their chances seemed against the overwhelming odds. His mind raced through every potential scenario, each one darker and more disastrous than the last.

The weight of responsibility bore down on him, gnawing at his resolve. He couldn't shake the feeling that they were walking into a trap, one from which they might not emerge unscathed. His instincts, honed by years of battle, screamed at him to call off the mission, to find another way. Yet, the die was cast, and there was no turning back.

Back on the surface, Reaper surveyed the area, her senses heightened. Haven still lingered on the landing pad, a beacon of hope in the chaos. With a determined glint in her eye, she muttered, "Good. She hasn't left. Give me ten minutes. I can track her well enough."

Mem-Zurah stood watch, gripping her heavy rifle tightly as she scanned the harsh, windswept desert landscape. Her eyes flicked back to Reaper, tension crackling in the air between them. "You have five minutes," she warned, her voice edged with urgency.

Reaper didn't have time to argue or threaten, not like with Akasia. She smirked, leaving to track her hybrid daughter.

Her smirk vanished as she moved with silent determination. No time to argue, no time to waste. Her cybernetic eyes scanned the surroundings, every nerve on edge, ready to spring into action at the slightest hint of danger. Her hybrid daughter was out there, and she would find her.

On the fourth level, Reaper's sharp eyes caught sight of a makeshift camp. They were indeed here. She crept further down, her ears pricked as she overheard Jormun's frantic voice. "Satima, we need to leave now! That could be a HIVE ship."

"And I'm telling you, it's not. There's something strange about it." Her dark teal eyes were wide with curiosity, fixed on the mysterious vessel looming in the sky. The air around them seemed to thrum with tension, as if the ship itself was holding its breath.

"I think Jormun is right. We should get out of here, now!" Do'ova's voice trembled, eyes darting nervously skyward as the enigmatic vessel loomed ever larger.

"It's not HIVE," Reaper declared, stepping boldly into the open. "The Directive doesn't even know you're here." Her presence was commanding as she approached their position.

Satima's eyes lit up with a mix of relief and excitement. "Reaper!" she exclaimed, dashing towards her. Just as she was about to throw her arms around her mother, Satima hesitated, her body trembling with the effort to restrain herself. She clenched her fists, fighting the overwhelming urge to embrace her. The longing in her eyes was evident, but so was the fierce determination to maintain her composure in the face of danger.

Reaper gently touched her arm, "We must leave Tuchunka. The longer we linger, the greater the peril for the krogan."

Do'ova and Jormun exchanged worried glances but nodded in agreement. They hastened to follow Reaper and their captain back to the landing pad, the urgency of their mission palpable in every stride. The harsh desert winds whipped around them, carrying with it the scent of impending danger. As they neared Haven, the landing pad came into view, framed by the imposing figures of Rex and Mem-Zurah, who waited with a mixture of impatience and resolve.

Reaper passed by her, "It's only been four."

Rex began speaking, "So, you are Reaper? The legendary mother of the reaper-born?", he asked, his voice tinged with both intrigue and skepticism.

She halted for a moment, curiosity flickering in her eyes, and nodded intently.

"My father, Wrex of the clan Urdnot, protected her for a time. She was unharmed." Rex's voice carried a hint of pride as he stepped forward, his eyes narrowing with intensity. "You will be leaving, right?"

Reaper's eyes narrowed as she stared back at Rex, the name of her old comrade ringing in her ears. "Wrex?" she murmured, a flicker of nostalgia evident in her gaze. "We'll leave, and rest assured, your planet will remain unscathed." Her voice was firm and reassuring, carrying the weight of unspoken promises.

Rex stepped forward, his hand outstretched, "My father spoke of you as the Shepard of old, a sister to our clan." Reaper took his hand, but Rex pulled her close, his eyes blazing with unspoken accusations. "Is that why the Directive has left us in peace? Some twisted favor? My people are warriors, not here to babysit reaper-born children."

He leaned closer to Reaper, his voice dripping with menace. "I dare any of your soldiers to come here and try to take this planet from us," Rex growled, his eyes alight with a fierce intensity.

Reaper shook his hand, locking eyes with him in a silent, intense exchange. "Tell your father… I've missed him," she said, her tone layered with both nostalgia and a veiled threat. Rex nodded, stepping back but not breaking eye contact, the air between them humming with unresolved tension.

Satima watched their exchange with a raised eyebrow but chose not to interfere. "Alright, let's fire up Haven," she commanded, her voice filled with resolve.

Mem-Zurah's voice cut through the tension like a knife. "No," she declared. "We're leaving through the rifter. It's faster." Her tone left no room for argument, the urgency and authority in her words evident.
Satima squared her shoulders, her eyes flashing with unwavering resolve. "I'm taking my ship off this planet," she declared, her tone brooking no argument. "If you want me to follow you, then you'll follow me in my ship. Understood?"

Reaper felt a sense of dread during their disagreement, a whisper of the Directive tugging at the edges of her mind. She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to ignore the insistent pull. "We don't have time for this," she said with steely determination. "You three, go now! I'll head back with her." She pointed towards the Sentarian, her voice brooking no argument as she pushed the team forward.

Mem-Zurah didn't trust either of them and certainly didn't want to leave Reaper behind. Callon would be furious. She clenched her fists, her voice tight with barely concealed anxiety. "Fine... for now," she muttered, her eyes betraying her inner turmoil as she reluctantly complied.

Haven soared from Tuchunka, trailing the Sentarian cruiser through the glittering relay. Upon reaching the Attica, Satima expertly docked her nimble vessel inside the colossal shuttle bay of the warship. Amid the enormity of the bay, her crew hesitated, their eyes wide with a mix of awe and apprehension. Reaper, however, moved with a steady confidence, familiar with the enigmatic aliens they were about to meet.

"This place is enormous!", Jormun exclaimed in awe. His voice reverberated through the vast bay, drawing curious glances from above, where walkways teemed with more of the mysterious aliens.

Do'ova's eyes widened as she spotted several Sentarians gathered around a holographic projection of a mysterious world. "Where do they come from?" she wondered aloud, her voice tinged with curiosity and a touch of fear.

Callon met them midway through the bay, flanked by imposing stalkers. "Ah, the hybrid. Finally, we have all the components needed," he announced with a cryptic smile.

Satima raised a brow at him, a sense of foreboding gnawing at her insides.

Haven's small crew gathered in the expansive shuttle bay, their hearts pounding with anticipation. Akasia and her sister approached, their presence commanding attention.

Callon turned to greet them with a knowing smile, the air thick with unspoken tension and mystery.

"Satima, it is truly an honor to finally meet you," Akasia said warmly, her eyes reflecting sincere admiration. Despite the tension in the air, she extended her hand in a gesture of goodwill, hoping to convey her genuine intentions. Reaper observed the exchange closely, sensing the delicate balance of trust that hung in the balance.

"What the hell is going on here?" Satima's voice cracked with tension. "I hide on Tuchunka to escape the directive, and now these mysterious beings show up..." Her eyes bore into Reaper with suspicion. "With you!"

Callon interrupted the hybrid's accusations, his voice sharp and commanding. "We are the Sentarians. Our people have endured the relentless threat of the Reapers far longer than you and your… mother." He stepped closer to Satima, his presence imposing. "It would be best to discuss this in the council chambers," he said, gesturing with a deliberate motion towards the exit of the shuttle bay.

They were led under guard through the ship, every step echoing ominously in the metallic corridors.

Within the chambers, Callon stood at the head of the board table, his presence commanding and unyielding. The ceiling of the oval room seemed to press downwards, creating a sensation of being tightly enclosed—a deliberate tactic, no doubt, to unsettle those within.

More of his kind sat on opposite sides. There were dark-eyed or crystal-gazed, jade-hued beings. Some wore the blackest armor Satima had ever seen, gleaming ominously under the bay's lights. Two of them stood out in blue-toned robes, exuding an aura of calm authority.

Akasia’s voice was delicate, her accent almost imperceptible, while her sister’s resonated with an authoritative tone, delivering commands with rapid precision. The anticipation in the room was palpable as they awaited the ship's commander. His similar accent carried an unmistakable flair, adding to the tension.

Reaper absorbed every detail from the tour Akasia provided, her mind racing with possibilities. The intricate technology of the Sentarians seemed almost insurmountable, making the idea of commandeering one of their vessels a distant dream. Yet, if the Haven proved incapable of rescuing them, desperation might force their hand.

Mem-Zurah stood next to her commander, exuding an aura of pride and intimidation. Satima's unease grew as she watched them. Jormun stayed close, ever vigilant and ready to protect her. His eyes flickered to Do'ova, who sulked in the corner, lost in her own thoughts.

Akasia, with a serene yet commanding presence, began at Callon's gesture. "For those among us who are unaware, we are the Sentarians," she announced, her voice carrying a weight of ancient history. "An ancient race, existing long before the reapers ever cast their shadow over the galaxy."

Garrus's mandibles twitched with incredulity. "Say what?", he exclaimed, his voice laced with surprise.

Akasia continued, her voice echoing with the weight of ancient memories. "Our people once served the Leviathans, mighty beings who commanded the stars. For centuries, we thrived under their rule, until their intelligence turned dark and began the harvests. We, the Sentarians, were among the first to face their cruel experiments and brutal massacres. In our final desperate bid for survival, we constructed the great rift—a portal of hope. We opened it and fled, leaving behind the galaxy we once called home."
She paused, her voice laced with a mixture of hope and trepidation.

"Trapped in another bridge of time, we waited, biding our time and honing our skills, always searching for a way back. We hoped the reapers had vanished, that our nightmare was over. But we were dreadfully wrong. They were lying in wait, ambushing our cruisers the moment we reappeared. Millions perished within the first hour, and by the end of four hours, billions had fallen."

Akasia's voice quivered slightly as she delved into their harrowing history. "In our retreat, we etched a message filled with hope and warning. The Protheans, a mighty race, tried to decipher it, but our vigilant stalker scouts reported its tragic destruction. Once more, the galaxy fell victim to the relentless harvest."

Callon stepped forward, his eyes locking onto Satima's with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. "Within the next cycle of life, an anomaly appeared," he began, his voice low and charged with gravitas. "For the first time since the harvest began, the Reapers' relentless slaughter was halted. An unexpected shield rose up, defying their tyranny and offering sanctuary to those who dared to resist. And at the center of this anomaly was you, Reaper-Commander Shepard."

The room fell silent, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. Satima's heart raced as she struggled to comprehend the full magnitude of what was being revealed.

Satima's eyes widened in confusion and disbelief. "Wait, what? How can she be Shepard?" Her voice quivered with uncertainty, as she tried to piece together the fragmented information. Garrus cleared his throat, attempting to maintain composure amidst the revelation.

Reaper looked at her daughter, a mix of sorrow and determination in her eyes. "In the beginning, yes." She gazed down, her expression solemn, as the weight of her past intertwined with her present identity. "I was Shepard. I am Shepard," Reaper declared, her voice steady but laced with a profound sense of destiny. Those words were both her shield and her burden, encapsulating the inner conflict of her identity.

Garrus's eyes sparkled with a mix of astonishment and renewed hope as he absorbed Reaper's declaration. The notion of Shepard returning, especially in such an unexpected form, sent a surge of excitement through his veins. His heart raced, daring to believe that the impossible might just be possible after all.

Callon tilted his head, a glint of intrigue in his eyes. "The hybrid did not know," he mused, his voice dripping with a mix of revelation and challenge. "Your untimely demise may have been a setback, but you were reborn, enhanced, and more formidable. The Directive's own machinations have ironically paved the way for their downfall. You and your daughter are our best hope to end their tyranny once and for all."

Reaper snapped her head in his direction, eyes blazing. "Both of us? I was told you only needed me."

Callon gave her an eerie smile, his eyes glinting with dark amusement. "You are both syntheses," he murmured, his voice dripping with ominous intent.

Satima's heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to process the gravity of Callon's words. Akasia, with determination etched on her delicate features, stepped forward and addressed their adversary. "Sir? What exactly are you planning?" she demanded, her voice unwavering despite the rising tension.

"We need them both," Callon stated coldly, his gaze unwavering. "In case one perishes. The hosts here possess a blend of Reaper tech and our nanotechnology."

Reaper's glare intensified. "And just how do you plan to extract these nanites from your living hosts?" she demanded, her voice a cold edge of defiance.

"Extraction pods," he revealed with a sinister grin. "These devices use nano droids to deconstruct your physical form, forcing your regeneration and saturating your system with reaper-nanites." Callon activated his omni-tool, projecting a holographic image of the pods. "I believe you are quite familiar with their design, Reaper."

Reaper's eyes widened as the holographic image took form, the cold, metallic structure unmistakable. A chill ran down her spine, her breath catching in her throat. "Collector pods," she whispered, the words barely audible, laden with a mix of dread and recognition. These were no ordinary devices; they were instruments of terror and destruction, and she knew their design all too well.

Satima stepped forward, her voice trembling with defiance. "You're not hurting my mother," she warned, her eyes blazing with determination.
Callon's grin sharpened, eyes gleaming with a sinister light. "Who says it will be just your mother?" he hissed.

Garrus lunged forward, but Reaper's firm grip on his arm held him back, her gaze locking with his in silent command.

Mem-Zurah's fingers tightened around the cold steel of her rifle, her eyes never leaving Callon's sinister grin. "You go first, Reaper," he sneered, his voice dripping with malice. "Test the safety for your daughter."

Reaper's heart pounded in her chest, her mind racing with the implications of his words.

"Like Hell!" Garrus roared, his voice echoing through the chamber, a defiant spark in his eyes as he stared down Callon.

Reaper raised a hand, her heart pounding with urgency. She could feel the oppressive danger from the Sentarians and knew their technology was a potent threat. She exchanged a quick, meaningful glance with Akasia, who nodded slightly, her confusion evident. Callon, the cunning villain, watched them with an eerie, calculating smile.

Reaper's mind raced, weighing their slim chances of survival. The gravity of the situation pressed down on her, the air almost suffocating with tension. Every second counted, and any misstep could spell disaster for them all.

Reaper's jaw tightened, her eyes burning with fierce determination. "I'll go," she declared, her voice unwavering. "You don't need Satima. I am reaper tech, and it will suffice for your little experiment."

Callon agreed with a sinister satisfaction. They were led to the labs on the eighth level, where the gray steel walls of the warship loomed ominously above them. Harsh, sterile lighting drenched every corner of the room, casting eerie shadows that seemed to dance with menace. Satima's heart pounded in her chest, her grip on Jormun's hand tightening with each step. Garrus was torn, his mind racing for a solution as the reality of their dire situation sank in.

Do'ova stood in silent contemplation, her face a mask of uncertainty. Would she witness the birth of a new, terrifying technology, or the tragic end of her captain and Reaper? The tension was palpable, every second stretching into an eternity as they braced for the unknown.

The darkness seemed to thicken around them, each step echoing their descent into a living nightmare. Power loomed at the helm, and their journey spiraled further into chaos. Helpless to halt the unfolding horror, the young salarian moved closer to Akasia. Her sister, with a silent nod, led the women into the foreboding lab room, where the weight of dread hung heavy in the air.

Callon watched from the opposite observation room, as Reaper stepped inside a pod. She stripped her armor, per their request, down to an undersuit. The cold metal walls closed in around her, and a shiver ran down her spine. There was no turning back now, no room for hesitation. Every fiber of her being screamed to resist, but she knew that compliance was their only hope for survival.

"This bio-chamber will reveal the secrets of your nanite composites and cybernetic template," Callon announced with an unsettling satisfaction. "Think of it as a key to unlocking the mind of The Intelligence."

Reaper's heart pounded even harder. What if they activated something unintentionally, or worse, if she didn't survive the process? The thought of leaving Satima unprotected gnawed at her. Garrus was experienced, but was he strong enough to face Archer alone?

Reaper's mind raced with concern for Satima. The thought of her daughter being left unprotected gnawed at her, a sharp pang in her heart. She knew that Jormun's love for Satima, though sincere, would not suffice to shield her from the looming dangers. He was more lovesick than capable, and the depth of his affection could not replace the strength and strategy needed to ensure her safety.

The salarian, Do'ova, seemed different since the last time they met, her demeanor marked by an unfamiliar uncertainty. Reaper couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of responsibility weighing down on her. She couldn't afford to fail, not when so many lives depended on her success.
A high-pitched whine filled the air as the biochamber activated, sending a shiver down Reaper's spine. Callon's voice cut through the tension like a knife. "I won't lie," he said, his tone laced with a chilling anticipation. "This will be excruciating."

As the biochamber whirred to life, Reaper felt a searing heat engulf her body, as though her very skin was being set ablaze. Memories of witnessing helpless colonists dissolved into pools of molten flesh flashed through her mind, intensifying her dread. The nanites within her sprang into action, attempting to mend the damage, but were relentlessly pulled away by the chamber's cruel grip.

Blood sprayed onto the pod's glass as Reaper's attempts to brace herself against the searing pain failed. Her scream pierced the sterile air, echoing through the lab and amplifying the sense of dread that hung heavy in the room.

Garrus staggered back, his heart pounding in his chest. This was a nightmare made real. He watched in horrified suspicion as the pods' extraction methods mirrored those of the collectors' devices. The eerie similarity sent a shiver down his spine, amplifying the sense of impending doom.

The relentless agony threatened to overwhelm Reaper, but she fought to maintain control. Her body trembled as her implants battled against the searing heat, her mind a whirlwind of fear and determination.

She bit down hard, stifling another scream that clawed at her throat, focusing on the single thought that this torment might hold the key to their survival.

Her skin, where the implants and nanites resided, transformed into a vivid red husk-like texture, numbing the excruciating pain. The nano droids were not merely healing her; they were becoming one with her, rewriting her very essence in reaction to the Reaper cybernetics.

Satima's heart raced as she watched the scene unfold, her eyes wide with terror. She clutched Garrus's arm tightly, her fingers trembling with fear. The sight of Reaper's agony was almost too much to bear. Satima buried her face against Garrus, seeking a refuge from the nightmare before her. Her thoughts were a whirlwind of dread and helplessness. What if the same fate awaited her? The thought sent a cold shiver down her spine, as the reality of their situation sank in deeper.

Jormun's eyes flicked to Do'ova, noticing her pallor and the beads of sweat dotting her forehead. Satima clung to Garrus, her knuckles white with fear, as Jormun bent towards Do'ova, concern etched on his face. She swallowed hard, her defiant expression faltering as nausea overtook her. The room felt like it was closing in, and the tension was suffocating.
Unable to hold it in any longer, Do'ova doubled over, retching violently. The sound echoed in the sterile chamber, adding to the mounting dread that filled the space. Jormun tried to steady her, but his own anxiety was an undeniable force.

Akasia signaled for the medical lab assistants, their faces pale with a mixture of fear and determination, to escort the trembling salarian from the room. The atmosphere was electric, charged with the tension and the unspeakable dread that had settled over everyone present.

Reaper focused on the husk skin, terrified and excited as to what this development meant. The crimson hue was both alien and mesmerizing, each pore oozing a faint glow that pulsed in synch with her heartbeat. She could see the nanites weaving intricate patterns just beneath the surface, tiny architects at work. Her vision wavered between clarity and a heat-induced haze, revealing the duality of her existence—flesh intertwined with cold, unyielding cybernetics. Every twitch, every shift in her posture sent ripples of pain, yet also a strange sense of power coursing through her veins. This grotesque transformation was not just a metamorphosis; it was a rebirth, a precarious dance between agony and transcendence.

The pod finally wound down, signaling the end of the relentless torment. Without the constant assault, Reaper's crimson husk-like skin began to heal, gradually returning to her pale human flesh, though the visible cybernetics remained. Each breath she took was shaky, yet it brought a sense of triumph, of survival against the odds.

Akasia rushed to Reaper's side, her hands shaking slightly as she handed over a medi-pump. The air was thick with tension as she muttered, "This should help with the pain." Reaper's eyes flicked to the observation window, where Callon's sadistic grin only fueled her anger. With a sharp, defiant motion, she slapped the pump out of Akasia's hand.

"Fuck off!" she snarled, her voice a low growl that echoed through the chamber.

Reaper's eyes burned with fury as she yanked Akasia by the collar, pulling her close. Her voice was a raw, guttural whisper, laden with menace. "If anything happens to Satima, I swear, you and your sister will suffer in ways you can't even imagine." The pain in her body was dwarfed by the sheer intensity of her threat, the words slicing through the air with the weight of her determination.

Akasia understood the anger. This wasn't right. Reaper leaned on the lab wall, as her remaining nanites recovered healing and began reproducing more of themselves. Her undersuit had been reduced to tatters. Despair gnawed at Akasia's heart as she watched Reaper's suffering unfold. Every scream, every shudder of pain was a testament to the cruelty they were forced to endure. She whispered a silent prayer for Reaper's resilience. nightmare.

Reaper could barely cover the more modest parts of herself, but that didn't matter to her. The exposed, burned skin would take a while to completely heal. She gritted her teeth in frustration, her annoyance simmering beneath the surface. The indignity of being exposed only fueled her resolve.

Callon's voice crackled over the comms, dripping with a sinister satisfaction. "A perfect sample, Reaper. The small council is forever grateful. We understand the time you need for recovery, but remember, this is just the beginning."

Reaper still panted from the pain, her eyes throwing daggers that she hoped would haunt Callon's memory forever. The sinister development sent chills down Satima's spine.

Callon and Archer share a disturbing similarity in their sadistic tendencies and willingness to exploit others for their own gains. Both men wield their power with a cold, calculating cruelty, showing little regard for the suffering they inflict. Callon, much like Archer, derives a twisted sense of satisfaction from the pain and despair of his victims.

He possessed the power to imprison them on this vessel, subjecting them to endless torment. The very notion sent an icy tremor through Reaper's core, heightening her unease.

Hours later, they all sat huddled inside Haven, every creak of the vessel amplifying the tension. This was their sanctuary, a place where no stalker guards could watch, and where Callon's insidious reach couldn't penetrate. Garrus remained vigilant, overseeing Reaper's recovery in their cramped medbay, his eyes darting to the door with every sound.

He gently applied more medi-gel salve to her skin, his fingers trembling slightly as they made contact with her raw wounds. Reaper winced.
"Forgive me," Garrus murmured, a deep sorrow weighing down his voice. "I should have found a way to stop this."

Reaper sat up slowly, her voice barely a whisper, "This was my choice. To protect Satima. It's not unlike you shooting me or Liara throwing me around the cargo hold of Haven. This experiment on my regeneration isn't the worst I've endured." She reflected, her eyes distant and sorrowful.
Garrus took a deep breath, his fingers trembling as he applied the medi-gel. "I'm so sorry, Reaper," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "I never should have shot you. I was only trying to protect everyone, but I never wanted this."

Reaper managed a weak smile despite the pain. "You were trying to protect them from me. Don't apologize."

Reaper clutched Garrus's hand desperately, her voice trembling with fear. "Garrus, promise me... promise me you'll protect Satima. Don't let them hurt her like they hurt me. I can't bear the thought of her suffering," her eyes pleaded with his, tears brimming. "Please, whatever it takes, keep her safe."

Garrus nuzzled her forehead gently, his voice filled with determination and compassion. "I won't let anyone harm her, Reaper. I promise you, I'll do everything in my power to keep her safe. You have my word."

Reaper slowly succumbed to a fitful sleep, her breaths shallow and labored. Garrus remained steadfast, his vigilant gaze never wavering as he watched over her.

Satima sat in her room, her mind racing with the horrors Reaper had endured. The images of Reaper's deconstructed body, the raw wounds, and the pained expression on Garrus's face haunted her. She couldn't shake the fear that gripped her heart – the fear that she might be next.

She clutched her knees to her chest, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. The thought of undergoing the same torment, of being torn apart and put back together like a mere machine, sent shivers down her spine. She had seen the strength and resilience in Reaper's eyes, but she wasn't sure if she possessed the same fortitude.

Her thoughts drifted to the promises made, the assurances of protection. Yet, the uncertainty of their situation loomed large, and the danger felt omnipresent. Satima's eyes filled with tears as she whispered to herself, "I can't bear the thought of suffering like that... I don't know if I can survive it."

Desperation mixed with her fear as she resolved to do whatever it took to avoid that fate. She knew she had to rely on her friends, their collective strength being their only hope. But the dread remained, a dark cloud over her thoughts.

Jormun manned the cockpit, hands trembling as he prepared Haven for departure. The sense of urgency was evident, every second ticking away like a countdown to disaster. Do'ova stumbled back from the main interior of the sentarian cruiser, her face pale and eyes wide with horror. Jormun quickly guided her to the mess, concern etched on his face.

"I didn't want this," she began, her voice shaking. "I was so angry at Satima for lying and for my father's death. I thought she deserved some pain. But to see Reaper being deconstructed and put back together like some... some patchwork on a wired panel?" She looked into Jormun's eyes, desperation and fear swirling within hers. "We have to get out of here! Our captain... she helped me. She tried."

Jormun sat with her, his heart pounding. "I know, Do'ova. Satima did what she could. This galaxy... it's a nightmare. But we're not giving up. We will protect her. We will protect them all."

Jormun's voice was strained with urgency. "Our captain is in grave danger, and so is her family. Will you help me?"

His salarian friend clasped his suited hand firmly, a determined glint in her eye. "We are her family too, Jormun Vas Haven. Of course, I'll help. We're in this together."

Together, they scrambled to prepare the ship for a swift departure. The massive bay doors loomed open, a gateway to their potential escape. If Do'ova could successfully reroute a surge of power to the engines, they might just manage to slip away from this nightmare.

Receiving a private comm, Jormun sprinted from the cockpit to meet Garrus in the engine room. "We need to get Satima out of here. It's too dangerous. We have no idea what Callon is capable of."

Garrus nodded, his eyes darting nervously. "I agree. If they can rift anywhere, then even this ship isn't safe from them."

The roar of Haven's engines reverberated through the ship, a powerful promise of escape. Jormun, with a steely determination, scanned the shuttle bay for any lurking threats. Do'ova moved swiftly, searching for a control panel amidst the complex alien technology. Her heart pounded, each beat echoing her resolve to understand and outwit their enemies, even as the weight of their predicament loomed large.

As the ship's systems hummed to life, a sense of urgency permeated the air. Every second counted, and the fate of their crew hinged on Do'ova's ability to navigate the unfamiliar tech. She approached a sleek, alien console, fingers poised to hack into the systems that held their freedom in balance.

If they could reach the relay in time, they might just find refuge in the terminus systems and slingshot back to the rim, purposefully losing themselves within the chaotic expanse of geth and quarian space.

Jormun's resolve hardened; he would ensure the safety of his crew, no matter the cost. He thought of his mother, an admiral with the power and influence to secure their sanctuary. She would have to agree. He would make sure of it!

Do'ova rushed back inside the ship's cockpit, her heart pounding with urgency. Jormun exchanged a quick glance with Garrus, who was already at the controls, his fingers flying over the console in a flurry of motion. "What about Reaper... I mean, Shepard? Is she going to be okay? Will she recover?" Do'ova's voice quivered with concern.

Garrus paused, his hand hovering over the diagnostics system before he shut it off in a hurry. He let out a heavy sigh and turned to the quarian, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and worry. "I don't know if she wants to be called Shepard anymore, but yes. She'll recover. She'll pull through this."

Jormun gave a resolute nod, determination etched on his face. "Then let's make sure we get out of here safely. For her sake." He then headed off to find Satima, leaving a trail of tense anticipation in his wake.

The hybrid went over plans if the directive had caught them. Plan A was the VI system, but it got destroyed against Archer. Plan B is to sit in space with all the systems shut down. A derelict husk to fool the scouter ships. There were no other plans. She didn't have time. And with these new foes; what or how, would she begin to fight them? What is their weakness? Or better yet… how can they hide from them? The room became dizzy.

The hybrid frantically reviewed their plans in case the directive caught them. Plan A was to use the VI system, but it had been destroyed against Archer. Plan B involved sitting in space with all systems shut down, masquerading as a derelict husk to fool the scouter ships. But beyond these, there were no other plans. Time was running out, and with these new enemies, how would they begin to fight back? What was their weakness? Or better yet... how could they hide from them? The room started to spin; heavy nausea filled her senses.

Jormun was on his way to the mess when a sudden noise caught his attention. It came from Satima's quarters.

Rushing inside, he found the room in disarray—chairs overturned, data pads scattered, and her pistol lying on the grated floor. Panic surged through him as he sprinted back to the cockpit, his voice shaking with urgency. "They've got Satima!" he shouted.

Garrus snapped to attention, his avian eyes scanning the bridge frantically. "We've stayed too long! Get Ish now! I'll get Reaper ready!" he commanded, his voice taut with urgency.
.....................................
Back in the labs.

"You can't do this! That bio chamber will kill her!" Akasia's voice broke through the rising tension. "Reaper will destroy this ship if you go through with it!"

Callon dismissed the engineer's desperate pleas with a cold, unwavering stare. "Mem-Zurah, keep your sister in line," he commanded, his tone a razor's edge of authority.

Reluctantly, Mem-Zurah dragged her sister out of the observation room. "Why do you defy our Commander, sister?" she demanded, her voice tight with controlled fury.
"Because what he's doing is wrong," Akasia replied, her voice heavy with sorrow.

Mem's gaze was filled with disdain as she turned away from her sister. "The reapers engineered this abomination. How can you find any sympathy for it when our very survival hinges on combating the idea of synthesis?" she retorted, her voice sharp. "Are you willing to forsake our people for the sake of one, in the name of some misguided notion of sacrifice for the greater good?"

Akasia stood frozen at the doorway, her heart heavy with dread as she watched Satima being stripped and forced into an undersuit. The girl trembled, her eyes wide with terror, too scared to resist. "What about protecting the innocent?" Akasia's voice was a whisper, barely audible over the hum of the machinery. "Reaper may be a monster, but that girl is not. She didn't choose this fate." Her gaze lingered on the ominous chamber, a sense of helplessness washing over her.

Satima seemed catatonic as the bio chamber's pod door shut over her with a menacing hiss. The machine whined to life, and she began to snap out of her stupor, pounding frantically against the glass. Akasia felt her resolve crumble. "I can't watch this," she whispered, stepping back in horror.

Mem-Zurah stared away, her face a mask of cold indifference. But the girl's screams pierced through the air, sharp and desperate, making the room vibrate with tension. Each cry was a dagger, cutting through the stoic exterior of those present, except for Callon, who remained unmoved, his gaze fixed on the ominous bio chamber.

Akasia's heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing the terror in Satima's screams. She could feel the raw helplessness washing over her, threatening to drown her in despair. "This isn't right," she whispered, her voice lost amidst the cacophony of fear and machinery.

Satima's fists pounded against the glass, her eyes wide with panic as the bio chamber began its grim process. "Stop this!" Akasia yelled, stepping forward, but Mem-Zurah's hand shot out, gripping her shoulder with iron strength.

"Don't," Mem-Zurah hissed, her eyes flickering with a mix of anger and sorrow. "It's too late."

Akasia looked at her sister, seeing the silent battle raging within her. The room felt like it was closing in, the walls pressing down with the weight of their choices. The hum of the machine grew louder, a menacing sound that drowned out all hope.

"Mem, we have to do something," Akasia pleaded, her voice trembling.
But Mem-Zurah's resolve had hardened. "We follow orders," she said, her tone a hollow echo of their reality.

As Akasia watched Satima's terrified face through the glass, she felt a tear slip down her cheek.

.....................................................
Fully armored, the crew of Haven sprinted through the barracks deck, urgency in every step. On the lab's level, a heart-wrenching scream tore through the air. "It's Satima!" Reaper shouted, the desperation in her voice palpable.

They ran into Mem-Zurah and Akasia outside the bio-chamber's door. Reaper's eyes blazed with fury as she leveled her weapon at their faces. "I warned you," she hissed, her voice dripping with menace. "I told you I would kill you both if anything happened to her! Where is she?"

Mem-Zurah's silence was deafening, her eyes betraying the turmoil within. Akasia's voice wavered as she pointed towards the room, "In there." Fear gripped her, making her hand tremble.

Reaper peered inside through the door's wide window, her heart pounding as she saw Satima being melted alive by the biopod. "Get this damn thing open!" she screamed, her voice a mix of desperation and fury.

Garrus joined her, using his talons to claw at the stubborn door. "Come on, we can't lose her," he growled, his blue blood smearing the metal. Do'ova rushed to assist, while Reaper's shouts grew more frantic with each passing second.

Jormun stood frozen, his eyes wide with helpless rage. "We have to do something!" he shouted, frustration evident in his voice.

Akasia had reached her limit. Ignoring Mem-Zurah's silent plea, she summoned every ounce of courage and determination within her. With a fierce resolve, she joined Mem-Zurah and the alien trio in their desperate attempt to open the bio-chamber door. The combined strength of their efforts finally prevailed, and the door creaked open with a groan.

Without hesitation, Akasia sprinted into the chamber, shoving the supervising scientist aside as she made her way to Satima.

"I need to shut down the pod's power! Reaper, be ready to pry it open as soon as it powers down and get her out!" Akasia shouted, her voice a mix of urgency and determination.

Mem-Zurah's heart sank as she watched the scene unfold. "Or what's left of her," she muttered under her breath, a mix of dread and resignation in her tone.

Reaper's heart pounded, the sound of Satima's screams echoing through her mind. Every second felt like an eternity as she stood by the pod, her body coiled with tension.

The pod hissed and spat out hot steam, its glass splattered with crimson. The heat and the horror mixed in a brutal symphony, each drop of blood a testament to the agony within.

Garrus shouted, his voice raw with urgency and fury. "Turn the damn thing off!" He stood poised with Reaper, every muscle tensed and ready to rip the pod door open the instant it powered down.

Mem-Zurah stayed back, her heart pounding with dread. She knew Callon would mete out a harsh punishment to her sister if they failed. Shadows loomed as Stalkers appeared, their approach menacing. Akasia needed more time, but it was slipping away. Mem-Zurah fought off the attackers with desperate ferocity, her every move driven by the urgency to save the hybrid girl.

Meanwhile, Jormun racked his brain to help Akasia find the correct sequence to shut down the pod's power. Do'ova frantically worked on a nearby power panel with her omni-tool, where the pod's core wires snaked into the hull, their glow pulsating ominously. The seconds seemed to stretch into an eternity as they fought against time, each moment heavier with the weight of Satima's life hanging in the balance.

In moments, it stopped. Garrus pried the pod open, and Satima fell out into her mother's arms. The crew gasped in unison, their disbelief palpable.

"She's... okay?" Akasia stammered, her voice barely above a whisper, eyes wide with astonishment.

Satima's body bore no horrific scars. More importantly, she was still alive.

"That's because she is a reaper," Archer's voice cut through the tension like a blade. The room seemed to freeze, every breath held in suspended disbelief.

"Mem!" Akasia yelled, her voice trembling with fear.

The alarms blared a deafening crescendo, as chaos ensued around them. Archer stormed through, a force of unstoppable fury. He tore into Jormun and Akasia, sending Garrus sprawling helplessly across the room. Reaper, weakened by her own ordeal in the biopod, struggled to her feet. "Stay away from my daughter!" she warned, her voice a desperate roar.

"Now, Reaper...must we come to this?" he snarled, a sinister grin spreading across his face.

Jormun's eyes darted upward, his heart pounding in his chest. Satima had regained consciousness, standing behind her mother, wide-eyed and trembling. Archer's menacing form loomed, each step toward them like the tolling of a death knell. Jormun knew he couldn't let Archer take Satima again. He must protect her from The Directive, even if it meant his own end.

With a fierce determination, Jormun brandished one of Satima's blades, his eyes blazing with resolve. He lunged towards the menacing droid, every fiber of his being driven by the need to protect Satima.

Do'ova's heart pounded in her chest as she watched Jormun charge forward, gripping one of Satima's blades from Haven. Desperation surged through her veins. She could draw her pistol, she could shock him, she could pull him back from the brink of death. But every second counted and the droid's eyes glowed like foreboding embers.

Archer snarled, slamming Reaper to the floor. He spun, seizing Jormun by the throat. "You fool!" he roared, eyes wild.

Satima watched in horror as Jormun dangled inches above the floor, barely able to breathe under Archer's crushing grip. His eyes darted around the room, desperate for a way out, for any chance to save Satima and himself.

The weight of his own helplessness bore down on him like a vice. "You could've run," Archer sneered, tightening his hold. "Back to Rannoch. Back to your family." Jormun's strength waned, his vision blurring as he struggled to maintain consciousness. Every second felt like an eternity, the futility of his efforts gnawing away at his resolve.

Archer's eyes burned with relentless fury as he tightened his grip on Satima's blade, its edge gleaming ominously under the harsh fluorescent light. Jormun, struggling to catch his breath, watched helplessly as the blade approached his chest.

The weight of the weapon and the weight of the moment bore down on him, a cruel reminder of his imminent end. "Did I not tell you staying by her side would be your doom?" Archer sneered, driving the blade into Jormun’s chest with a brutal twist.

Archer hurled Jormun’s dying body to the floor, his icy gaze flicking to Satima with a chilling intent.

Satima's scream pierced through the chaos, her eyes wide with terror. She clawed her way towards Jormun, her heart pounding in desperation. Her fingers almost brushed his, but Archer's iron grip yanked her back.

Archer's grip tightened cruelly on Satima, dragging her toward an ominous tear he had summoned. Jormun, with the last of his strength, pulled off his helmet, desperate to see Satima one last time with his own eyes. "..Sati..ma..," he whispered, his voice barely audible as the cold embrace of death began to claim him.

Blood filled his mouth, choking off his words. Satima's terrified eyes met his, tears streaming down her face as she clung desperately to the fleeting moment. Time seemed to shatter around them, and Jormun's heart broke one last time. Satima was gone.

Garrus winced in pain, his vision blurred as he tried to focus on the chaos unfolding around him. His heart sank as he caught sight of Jormun's lifeless body sprawled on the floor. A wave of despair washed over him, the weight of loss and guilt pressing down on his chest like a boulder.

"No...," he whispered to himself, his voice trembling with sorrow. The reality of the situation hit him like a punch to the gut, and he felt a crushing sense of helplessness. How could they have failed so completely? The thought of Satima, lost to the void, gnawed at his soul. Garrus staggered forward, each step heavy with the burden of their defeat.

Reaper knelt beside Jormun's lifeless body, the weight of the loss pressing down hard on her chest. Akasia stood nearby, her face streaked with silent tears. "Kin Sha," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "This galaxy is a relentless nightmare."

With a vacant, almost haunted stare, Reaper murmured, "He didn't deserve this. Not death." The gravity of Jormun's loss weighed heavily on her, the finality of it all piercing her soul like a dagger. The room seemed to suffocate under the burden of their collective grief. Oh, God. Tali. I'm so sorry.

Garrus's voice trembled as he forced out the words, "Where's Satima?" His gaze remained fixed on Jormun's lifeless form, the weight of loss pressing heavily upon him.

"Gone. Gone, because I'm too weak," Reaper murmured, her voice trembling with sorrow. She sank against the wall, the weight of her grief nearly crushing her. Do'ova slowly knelt beside Jormun's lifeless body, her eyes filled with unshed tears. "He was my friend," she whispered, her voice breaking into silence.

"This is my fault," Akasia murmured, her voice heavy with sorrow. She watched the grief-stricken faces of the small group. "I can help... I can help you get her back."

Mem shouted against it. "No! I have to keep you safe from Callon."

Akasia's gaze burned with resolve. "I did this. I led Callon to them. It's my mistake, and I'm going to fix it." She turned sharply to face Garrus and Reaper, her determination visible. "I won't rest until it's done."

Reaper's gaze intensified as she locked eyes with the sentarian. "How exactly did you lead him to us?" she demanded, her voice sharp and accusing.

Akasia averted her eyes, her voice trembling with urgency, "Because I insisted you could stop the reapers and change the course of history. I'm the one who can take you back and prevent all of this from happening."

Reaper, her eyes blazing with fury, slapped Akasia hard across the face. "If Satima dies, I don't want you to join her in death. No, I want you to live with the unbearable weight of her loss for the rest of your days!" she spat, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. She pointed an accusing finger at Jormun's lifeless body. "Look at him! He's gone! Do you understand that?"

Akasia reeled back, clutching her stinging cheek, while Mem-Zurah swiftly stepped between them. She brandished a rifle, pointing it directly at Reaper's face. "Ka tor! You dare touch my sister?!"

Time was slipping away, each second a dagger driven deeper into their resolve. Akasia's hand gripped the gun, her knuckles a lighter shade of jade lighter sh. "She's a mother, and she's right." She turned, her voice edged with steel, to Reaper and Garrus. "We have weapons and rifters. We can save her. We will save her."

Mem-Zurah led them to the armory, her movements hesitant and eyes darting with fear. "The Directive has swarms of advanced soldiers. We might not make it out alive."

She watched them take two loads of weapons and hurriedly followed them straight to Haven. Garrus and Reaper rushed inside, their movements urgent and desperate. Akasia waited at the hatch, her heart pounding in her chest. Do'ova's gaze lingered on the horizon one last time, a silent vow burning in her eyes. She would honor Jormun's memory by rescuing Satima, no matter the cost.

Mem-Zurah stayed on the shuttle deck, her eyes wide with fear. Her voice trembled as she spoke to Akasia. "I can't go, sister. You know I can't."

Akasia nodded her head and held back tears. "I'm scared, but I must help them."

She vanished into the depths of Haven. Mem-Zurah exhaled deeply, her heart clenched with fear for her sister. The questions gnawed at her—would Reaper's wrath claim Akasia because of Callon's betrayal, or would the commander reach her first? Determined yet terrified, she would prepare and pray to Sha, hoping this chaotic storm would soon find its end.

Garrus gripped the controls with knuckled intensity, rocketing them towards the relay. Sentarian gunships swarmed like angry wasps, their weapons blazing. "Head straight to HIVE!" Reaper barked, her voice a whip of urgency. The fighters tightened their formation, relentless in their pursuit, until suddenly, they veered off, leaving Haven to plunge into the unknown.

She stood over Garrus, the memory of Jormun's lifeless body searing her mind. They had left him behind, but he was dead, and Satima's fate still hung by a thread. For now.

Reaper tore her eyes from the cockpit window, her heart pounding with a mix of dread and determination. The urgency of their mission gnawed at her, each second ticking away like a countdown to disaster. As soon as they rescued Satima, her next harrowing task would be to contact Rannoch and deliver the devastating news to Tali. "Your son, my friend," she whispered to herself, the words heavy with sorrow, "was killed by the Directive."

..............................................................................................................................
HIVE

Satima felt the crushing weight of despair. The thought of living seemed unbearable; each breath was a reminder of her loss. Jormun was gone, and she was nothing but a creation—a reaper born. The agony of existence gnawed at her, leaving her numb and hollow.

Hooked up to the fitting table, Archer's cold, emotionless gaze bore into her, sending a shiver down her spine. It was finally happening. The armor. The nanites within her stirred, hungering for the link. The suit clung to her frame, each piece snapping into place with a precision that felt both invasive and inevitable. As the last component locked in, the whispers began, echoing in her mind like the hiss of unseen predators.

Satima closed her eyes, and the voices surged like a torrent, drowning her thoughts and enveloping her in a suffocating grip of terror. Each whisper was a knife edge, slicing through her sanity.

Archer's breath hitched as the Directive's shadowy figure materialized in a holographic haze. They had succeeded in bringing the dream of synthesis to the galaxy, but control was crucial. The Directive's voice, a sinister blend of tones, echoed with a chilling authority, outlining their ability to reshape the fate of every species. The weight of their mission pressed heavily, each word dripping with the promise of either salvation or annihilation.

Reaper, the formidable precursor to Satima, stood as her genetic progenitor, a being crafted with meticulous precision under the Directive's grand design. The weight of this revelation hung heavily in the air, intertwining their fates in ways that even the most complex strategies could not unravel.

The shadowy figure's voice crackled with an eerie authority. "We have intercepted crucial intel from the Sentarian command. They are orchestrating a paradox that could alter history itself. This cannot be tolerated. Reaper is beginning to resist."

Archer's gaze locked onto the hologram. "Reaper's sanity is hanging by a thread," he warned, his tone sharp with urgency.

The hologram paused, its form darkening into an ominous red fog. "Deploy it," the Directive commanded, the voice cold and unyielding. "Terminate Reaper. Harvest whatever remains. We will begin anew."

Satima's mind whirled, unable to grasp the gravity of their conversation. Archer's eyes flicked to her, then back to the Directive. "What about Satima?" he demanded, a note of defiance in his voice.

"Extract the technology," the Directive's voice cut through the air like ice. "Then destroy her. We have enough data to create an entire army." The hologram flickered and faded, leaving an ominous silence in its wake.

Archer turned to Satima, a dangerous glint in his eyes. His perfect design, meant to be destroyed? She watched in terror, her heart pounding in her chest. "What are you going to do?" Satima asked, her voice trembling with fear.

He straightened himself, his eyes cold and unyielding. "I'm going to unleash you," he declared, his voice a chilling promise of destruction. 

Chapter Text

HIVE
Haven arrived at the HIVE's station, anticipation crackling through the air. Reaper's eyes gleamed with a fervent desire for vengeance, her mind replaying the memory of the husk head that once adorned her warship. She envisioned Archer's head as her next trophy.

Akasia deftly deployed her advanced sentarian technology, cloaking the Haven's thruster emitters with precision. The HIVE, a formidable opponent, was not about to relinquish its prized catch without a fierce struggle.

Once they docked, Shepard took the lead, guiding the team with unwavering determination into the HIVE's ominous depths.

Venturing deeper into the station's foreboding labyrinth, they combed through the ghostly remnants of lab facilities. Each step echoed with a chilling resonance, the emptiness of abandoned workstations and the cold, silent terminals heightening the sense of urgency. Time was slipping through their fingers, and they knew the HIVE's traps could spring at any moment.

They moved cautiously through Reaper's old quarters; the shadows seeming to twist and writhe with malevolent intent. The destruction left by the HIVE's commands was absolute, a stark reminder of the enemy's merciless efficiency. Every creak and whisper of the station's infrastructure set their nerves on edge, the oppressive silence amplifying their tension.

"Satima could be anywhere," Garrus murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, the uncertainty in his tone mirroring the dread that gnawed at their resolve.

"We can't stop now, we have to keep moving," Reaper hissed, urgency lacing her voice.

Akasia swiftly activated her sentarian technology, scanning the labyrinthine depths for any clue of the hybrid's whereabouts. Her tech revealed a signal on one of the lower sub-levels – the bio-genetics lab.
"That technology... where is it from?" Do'ova asked, her curiosity piqued.
The sentarian's eyes narrowed, and she replied in a low, almost reverent tone, "My people's technology is the legacy of countless generations, forged in the fires of the first harvest. We are an ancient civilization, but one always on the brink of extinction."

Do'ova's curiosity seemed to deepen as she took in this revelation, her expression both wary and intrigued.

As they pressed forward, the oppressive silence was shattered by the sudden onslaught of Directive soldiers, who emerged from the shadows with weapons blazing. The air filled with the deafening roar of gunfire and the acrid smell of burning metal. The team sprang into action, each member moving with practiced precision and unyielding resolve.

Reaper's pulse quickened as she fired back, her sharp eyes scanning for any sign of Satima amidst the chaos. Explosions rocked the narrow corridors, sending showers of sparks and debris raining down upon them. Akasia's sentarian technology hummed with energy as she deployed defensive shields, deflecting incoming projectiles with masterful precision.

Garrus, ever the marksman, took down enemies with lethal accuracy, his rifle's shots echoing through the labyrinthine halls. Do'ova's swift movements and deadly strikes left a trail of fallen soldiers in her wake, her expression one of fierce determination.

"We have to push through!" Reaper shouted over the din, her voice commanding and resolute. "Satima is close, I can feel it!"

With every step, the urgency grew, the team driven by a singular purpose. The Directive soldiers fought with relentless ferocity, but the determination of Reaper and her team was unbreakable. They knew that each second counted, and that failure was not an option.

Finally, the last of the soldiers fell, their weapons clattering to the ground. Breathing heavily, the team regrouped, eyes scanning the area for any remaining threats. They were closer now, the gen-deck just ahead, and the echoes of their fierce battle still reverberating through the station's cold, metallic halls.

As they ventured deeper into the gen-deck, Garrus couldn't shake an unsettling feeling gnawing at him. The oppressive silence seemed to magnify each breath, each footfall, as they approached the sub-levels. Finally, they arrived at a chamber that sent chills down their spines. Rows of pods lined the walls, each filled with motionless bodies. It was as if they had stumbled upon a grotesque gallery of clones.

One of the figures inside the pods bore a striking resemblance to Satima, causing Reaper's heart to skip a beat. A cold realization dawned upon them.

Reaper's eyes widened as she took in the sight of the male version of Satima, her pulse quickening with a mix of horror and disbelief. It was as if she were staring into a distorted mirror, the familiar features twisted into something both eerily similar and unsettlingly different.

She remembered the last encounter, the desperate rescue where Archer's sinister machinations had first come to light. Now, the purpose of this clone seemed even more insidious, a shadowy echo of Satima that served some dark, twisted plan.

Her mind raced, piecing together the fragments of their previous battles, the sinister plots that had led them to this moment. The air around her seemed to thicken with tension, every breath a struggle against the rising tide of dread.

"What on earth do they hope to achieve with this?" Akasia's voice trembled with a mix of horror and curiosity.

"An army," Reaper murmured, her voice barely a whisper as she stared at the ginger-haired male figure encased in the pod.

"Since the machines were downsized, we needed a better way to control this galaxy," Archer's voice echoed menacingly from the shadows at the end of the first hall. "Reaper, you have been a thorn in our side for far too long. The Directive has plans, and your interference will no longer be tolerated."

"Where is she? Where's my daughter, you bastard?" Reaper's voice sliced through the oppressive silence, her rage barely contained.

Archer laughed, "Why the combative temper? She's safe." He gestured around them. The droid stepped aside, revealing Satima as she walked into the lab. She was clad in full nano-armor, an imposing suit that glinted menacingly under the harsh lights. Her expression was eerily glazed over, devoid of the spark that once defined her. The armor seemed to pulse with a life of its own, the intricate patterns of circuitry glowing with a sinister energy, promising both protection and control. Each step she took echoed ominously, as if the very floor feared her approach.

"What have you done to her?" Reaper's voice trembled with a mixture of fury and fear, her heart pounding as she struggled to comprehend the sight before her.

"Let's start from the beginning, shall we?" Archer's voice was a venomous whisper, his eyes burning with malice. "Do you remember my brother? The day you tore him away from me?" The disgust in his tone was palpable. "You've been on some self-righteous journey, trying to reconnect with who you once were, but you can't escape the past."

Reaper's mind raced, memories crashing down like a relentless tide, each one a sharp reminder of her past as Shepard. The faces, the battles, the sacrifices—it all came flooding back, merging with the present in a whirlwind of emotion.

Archer stepped forward, his sneer deepening. "You destroyed my life's work. David was the linchpin, the key to bridging the gap between geth and organics—Synthesis."

She narrowed her gaze, the realization hitting her like a physical blow. "David? You're... Archer. Gavin Archer?!"

"Yes," he hissed, the word dripping with venom.

Garrus's mandibles flared in disbelief. "You're the Cerberus scientist who tortured your own brother. Hooked him to that machine, putting him in endless agony for months." His voice was taut with horror and disgust.
Archer's glare hardened as he stared at the turian before turning his attention back to Reaper. "I sought redemption for my sins, but you remained indifferent. And when you failed to stop the reapers, my brother paid the ultimate price. He was all I had left!"

Reaper shook her head, her voice trembling with a mix of disbelief and rage. "If he died at the hands of the Reapers, then you must have had a hand in it. I saved him twice—from you and from Cerberus."

Archer's eyes blazed with fury as he stormed forward. "Cerberus would've protected him! They didn't fall to the reapers!" His pacing grew frantic. "So much death, so many bodies harvested, but Cerberus stood strong. The Illusive Man saw my potential, promised me a way to bring David back. And then he turned it on them."

"Turned it on them? The reapers don't make deals—they annihilate everything in their path!" Reaper's voice was sharper now, teetering on the brink of sheer desperation.

He cocked his head, a sinister grin spreading across his face. "No, Reaper, it is only you who destroys. You shatter lives, tear apart families, and leave nothing but ashes in your wake."

Archer's pacing halted abruptly, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of triumph and madness. "It all started with your precious DNA. I watched them drag your barely alive body to the station, and I knew then what had to be done." His gaze flicked toward Satima, who remained eerily silent, caught in the storm of revelations.

"I wanted you to understand what it was like to lose. Not just the war, not just this galaxy and its pitiful inhabitants," Archer spat, his eyes burning with fervor. He pointed a trembling finger towards Satima. "I wanted you to lose more than your life, your ship, your career."

"You see," he continued, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, "every single step you took, every breath you drew, was a reminder of what I had lost. David was my brother, my blood. And you—" he sneered, the word dripping with contempt, "you took him from me. Twice. Once from Cerberus, and then again, from me."

His gaze shifted to Satima, his expression a twisted mix of triumph and madness. "Do you know what it's like to watch everything you love be ripped away from you, to see your dreams and hard work crumble into dust? I wanted you to feel that same unbearable pain, that same crushing despair."

Archer's pacing grew frantic, his voice rising with each word. "The Reapers promised me a way to bring him back. They showed me how to use their technology, how to harness it. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough."

He stopped abruptly, his eyes locking onto Reaper's with an intensity that sent a chill down her spine. "So, I devised a plan. A plan to make you suffer, to make you break. I wanted you to lose the one thing that mattered most to you. Her."

A chilling realization washed over Reaper, her heart pounding with a mix of shock and horror. These past twenty years were not just a calculated plan by the machines; they were a twisted game orchestrated by one individual, shrouded in unimaginable cruelty.

"With meticulous orders, I kept secret tabs on every step and let it unfold according to its sinister design," Archer revealed, a fiendish smile curving his lips. "Imagine, the former Commander Shepard, the galaxy's revered hero, brought down to this—an unwitting pawn in my game. And as for you," he sneered, eyes drilling into Reaper, "a mother."

His voice dropped to a menacing whisper, "Creating Satima was no accident. It was a cruel experiment born of spite and twisted genius. I watched as they spliced her with Turian and reaper DNA, blending the very essence of both your allies and enemies into your own offspring. Every time you look at her, you see what you lost, you see my handiwork."

Archer's eyes gleamed with a mix of triumph and madness. "You may think the Reapers guided this, but it was my hand that shaped her existence, my hatred that fueled her creation. A constant reminder of your failures, your despair. And now, the final act—your child, your hope, turned against you by design."

Reaper's heart pounded in her chest as the full weight of Archer's revelations crashed down upon her. The past two decades of pain and loss had all been part of his twisted plan, a game of unimaginable cruelty orchestrated to break her spirit entirely.

Archer's laugh was a sharp, bitter sound, resonating through the room. His eyes gleaming with malice. "There is a shadow figure manipulating everything from behind the scenes, using control to twist my plans into something even more sinister. They seek to undermine and take over the galaxy, weaving a web of deceit and power."

His voice dropped to a chilling whisper, "Every step I took, every move I made, was influenced by their hidden hand, steering me towards chaos. They wanted your downfall to be the catalyst for their reign of terror. You were the perfect pawn in their grand design."

Archer's expression contorted with a volatile mix of fury and despair. "You see, it was never just about revenge or resurrecting David. It was about unraveling the very fabric of this galaxy, proving that no hero, no matter how exalted, could withstand their manipulation."

Reaper's eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. "You mean to tell me," she hissed, her voice trembling with barely contained fury, "that everything—the Reapers' pause, the endless suffering, the loss of my child—was all because of you?" Her fists clenched at her sides, nails digging into her palms. "This entire nightmare, orchestrated by your twisted hands?"

"They want me to kill you," Satima's voice trembled, each word laden with anguish and desperation. "It's... it's what I was ultimately built for." Her eyes flickered toward Archer, seeking some semblance of reprieve from the torment he had inflicted upon her.

Archer stepped forward, his face contorted with a mix of anger and frustration. "The Reapers wanted to build a bridge between us, to show the galaxy how their harvests and experiments would lead to our ascension. So, I offered them my creation, thinking it would bring David back, bury my hate for you. But it didn't matter in the end." His voice trembled with bitter resentment. "No matter how hard I tried, no matter what I sacrificed, I'm no closer to bringing David back. And all the while, you two manage to survive, to be a family."

Reaper's breath hitched, her body frozen in place. Garrus, heart pounding, took a tentative step forward. "Who does the Turian DNA belong to?" His voice was a raw whisper, barely contained fury lacing his words as his gaze bore into Archer.

His question sliced through the tension in the room. The weight of Archer's revelations hung heavy, but the truth about Satima was a wound still raw for Garrus. He couldn't shake the fragments of memories from his capture nearly two decades ago—those fleeting nightmares now hauntingly real. "I asked you a question, Archer." Garrus's voice was a low growl, teetering on the edge of control. "Who does the Turian DNA belong to?" His eyes bored into the droid, challenging it to reveal the darkest secret.

Archer faced him with a sinister smile, "I'm sure you can figure it out, Garrus. After all, you should know your own genetic legacy."

Solana's words about having peace and being with his family before the end echoed in his thoughts.

Garrus's mind reeled from the revelation, his heart pounding as the weight of the truth settled upon him. Satima, his daughter, was standing before him, a pawn in Archer's twisted game. He felt a mixture of shock, disbelief, and an overwhelming need to protect her.

"Satima," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "You don't have to do this. You have a choice. You always have a choice." He took a tentative step forward, his taloned hand extended. "Come to us. Come back to your family. We can help you."

Satima looked at him with tear-filled eyes, her blade trembling in her hand. "I... I can't," she whispered, her voice fraught with pain and confusion. "The Directive... it controls me. I can't fight it."

Garrus's gaze hardened with determination. "We'll find a way to break it. I promise you, we will. But you need to trust us. Trust me."

Archer's laughter cut through the tension like a knife. "You think you can save her? You're a fool, Garrus. She's beyond saving."

Ignoring Archer, Garrus focused solely on Satima. "You're stronger than you think. You're my daughter, and I will not let you fall." His voice was fierce with conviction. "Fight it, Satima. For yourself, for us."

Satima's grip on the blade loosened ever so slightly, a flicker of hope igniting in her eyes. "Dad... I..."

Archer's voice boomed, "Satima, end this now!"

Garrus's heart raced as he watched the internal struggle play out on Satima's face. "Please, Satima," he urged, "don't let him win. Choose your family. Choose us."

In that moment, everything hung in the balance. The room was thick with tension, each breath feeling like an eternity. Garrus could see the conflict in Satima's eyes, the battle between the Directive's control and her own will to break free.

She seemed distant, hesitant to them. Do'ova's heart pounded as she stepped forward from Akasia's side, her voice trembling with urgency.
"Captain. Jormun is gone. He killed our friend—please, come back. Haven is home."

Archer's eyes narrowed, a menacing smile playing on his lips. "Satima, do as you're ordered."

At that, Satima whirled to face Archer, her eyes blazing with defiance. "I won't," she hissed, her voice quivering with raw emotion. "I won't kill my family. You've already taken Jormun. You won't take them too!"

The droid's metallic foot crashed down, sending tremors through the room. "Remember, my dear," it hissed, "it is not I who bind you. This is beyond my control. Fight it if you dare."

Satima's breath came in ragged gasps as the overwhelming will of the Directive fought to dominate her. Her eyes darted to Garrus, desperation etched across her face. "Please, run," she pleaded, her voice a strained whisper of anguish.

Archer's eyes burned with intensity. "Reaper has become weak, and the weak must perish against the strong. Now, follow my command and end this, Satima!"

Satima glanced away, then brought out a blade, walking to her mother and preparing a strike. Reaper didn't move, only stared away, with all the detailed deceptions she'd been told replaying in her mind. She was unraveling, voices and more voices. Hers, theirs, all deafening her to the danger ahead.

Suddenly, Satima's movements became mechanical, her eyes glazing over as the Directive took hold of her mind. She struggled, but the commands in her head grew louder, drowning out her own thoughts. Step by step, she advanced towards Reaper, the blade trembling in her grip as she fought against the force controlling her.

Garrus aimed his rifle, his voice breaking with pain. "Satima, don't make me shoot you. Please." His avian eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the torment of facing this unbearable choice evident in his trembling stance. "I can't lose you like this," he whispered, the words heavy with desperation. "Not after everything."

"I can't stop it! The armor, the voices—they control me," Satima's voice trembled with desperation.

Archer stepped beside her, his grip tightening around her weapon. He forced the blade closer to Reaper's throat, his voice a venomous whisper. "Finish it," he snarled, his eyes burning with a twisted mix of anger and anticipation.

Satima's body trembled, her sobs breaking the silence like shattered glass. "Do it!" Archer's voice echoed through the room, filled with fury and desperation. "Or they'll kill you both!"

Satima held the blade firmly, her hands trembling uncontrollably. Reaper's eyes softened, her voice barely a whisper. "It's okay, Satima. End this now. Give them my body, and leave forever. They'll never haunt you again. You don't belong to them."

Tears streamed down Reaper's face, a bitter smile etched across her features. "I can't fight anymore," she gasped, the weight of her words heavy with resignation. "But you... you still have a chance. You can be free."

Satima's grip tightened on the blade, her body racked with sobs. "I can't do this," she cried, her voice cracking under the strain. "I don't want to lose you."

Reaper's eyes pleaded with her, desperation mingling with love. "You have to," she insisted, her voice breaking. "Do it for me. For you. For all of us. Please, Satima."

The room seemed to close in around them, the tension palpable as Satima's internal struggle reached its peak. Her eyes darted to Garrus, then back to Reaper, the weight of the decision threatening to crush her.
With a final, shuddering breath, Reaper closed her eyes. "Goodbye, sweetheart. Be strong."

Satima looked up at Garrus, desperation and determination intermingling in her gaze. The voices in her mind roared, drowning out her thoughts and urging her to complete the horrifying task. She clenched her teeth, forcing herself to resist their commands. "No," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the cacophony in her head. "I won't do it."

Her eyes squeezed shut, her face contorted with pain as she battled for control. She could feel the Directive's grip tightening around her mind, but she also felt the strength of her own will, fueled by the love and support of those around her. "Quiet!" she screamed internally, demanding silence from the voices.

When she opened her eyes again, they were filled with a fierce resolve. "I have family," she thought, the words giving her the strength she needed. With a guttural cry, she turned on her heel, the blade flashing in her hand. In one swift, decisive movement, she plunged the blade into Archer's chest, her cry of rage echoing through the room.

Archer staggered back, his eyes wide with shock as Satima twisted the blade deeper, her voice a thunderous roar. "That’s for Jormun, you son of a bitch!" she screamed, her rage reverberating through the room.

Archer staggered back, a look of shock and betrayal etched across his face as Satima, fueled by a surge of adrenaline, activated his rifter and shoved him through a tear. The room seemed to tremble with the intensity of the moment, the very air crackling with tension.

Reaper stood, her heart pounding in her chest, confusion and fear swirling in her mind.

Satima's breath quickened, her eyes wide with panic as the voices from the Directive surged back into her mind, a cacophony of commands and urgings. She clutched her head, a pained cry escaping her lips as she tried to stave off the overpowering noise. It felt as if her very thoughts were being crushed under the weight of the incessant, malevolent whispers.

Satima darted out of the room, her footsteps echoing through the corridors as Reaper sprinted after her. The station's alarms blared, adding to the chaos, and the clamor of boots against metal indicated the approach of Directive soldiers.

Garrus and Do'ova engaged the soldiers, their weapons discharging bolts of energy that lit up the dim passageways. "We need to follow them. Move!" Garrus shouted, his eyes never leaving the path ahead.

Reaper's heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she chased Satima. She could feel the oppressive presence of the Directive soldiers closing in, their shouts and the clanking of their gear growing louder with every step.

She rounded a corner and spotted Satima ahead, the desperation in her friend's movements clear. "Satima, wait!" Reaper called out, her voice barely cutting through the din. But Satima didn't stop; she couldn't stop. The Directive's hold on her mind was too strong.

More soldiers appeared, their weapons aimed at Reaper. She ducked and weaved, narrowly avoiding the deadly volleys. The odds were overwhelming, yet she pressed on, driven by the need to save Satima from the torment that gripped her.

Reaper's omni-tool flashed as Akasia's voice came through the comm. "Attach the rifter! It'll give you the advantage!" With quick, practiced movements, Reaper connected the device and activated it, creating a shimmering tear in time and space.

Satima was fast, but the rifter made Reaper faster. She surged forward, the tear propelling her ahead of the soldiers. She could see Satima approaching the tech labs, her figure a blur of motion.

"Satima!" Reaper screamed, but the hybrid didn't stop, her path unaltered by the plea. Desperation clawed at Reaper's heart as she realized the full extent of the Directive's control over her daughter.

Garrus and Do'ova continued their fierce battle with the soldiers, buying Reaper precious moments. The echoes of their struggle reverberated through the station, a grim reminder of the stakes.

As Reaper entered the tech labs, she saw Satima preparing to strike. "You will not stop me!" Satima bellowed, launching a ferocious attack. Reaper barely deflected the blade aimed at her gut, forced to shift from defense to offense to survive.

"Satima! Stop this! You're not under his control!" Reaper shouted, hoping to break through the Directive's influence. But Satima's eyes were filled with a mix of anguish and determination, her mind a battleground of conflicting wills.

The chaos continued around them, the station trembling under the weight of the conflict. Reaper knew she had to end this, for Satima's sake and for everyone counting on them.

"It needs to end! All of it!" Satima roared, her voice echoing through the trembling station. She lunged at Reaper with a fierce determination, their blades clashing with a resounding metallic ring. Sparks flew as they exchanged blows, the intensity of their fight reflecting the turmoil within Satima's mind.

Reaper dodged and parried, her movements fluid yet desperate. "Satima, fight it! This isn't you!" she pleaded, her heart aching with every strike.
"You don't understand, Mother!" Satima shouted back, her attacks relentless. "There's no other way!" Her eyes burned with a mix of pain and resolve, each swing of her weapon a testament to the internal struggle she faced.

The station's alarms continued to blare, the red lights flashing ominously. The walls seemed to close in as Reaper fought to reach the true Satima buried beneath the Directive's control.

Reaper's omni-tool emitted a warning beep, signaling the approach of more soldiers. She ducked under Satima's blade and swiftly activated another tear, using the rifter to gain a momentary advantage. The shimmering portal propelled her behind Satima, but the hybrid was quick to adjust, spinning around to face her mother with renewed ferocity.
"What needs to end?" Reaper asked, her voice strained as she dodged another blow from Satima.

"This!" Satima cried, her face contorted with anguish as she dashed past Reaper into the elevator, slamming the panel with her fist.
Reaper's heart sank as she watched the doors close. The battle wasn't over, and the stakes had never been higher.

"Where is it heading?" Akasia's voice crackled through the comm, laced with urgency. Garrus's omni-tool blazed as he scanned the descent. "Engineering," he replied, his tone grim.

Reaper uses a tear to get ahead on the engineering deck. Garrus, Do'ova, and Akasia flee to the docks, desperately trying to reach Haven.

Summoning all her resolve, Reaper used the rifter, tearing through the fabric of space-time to land on the engineering deck just ahead of the descending elevator. The stakes had never been higher; the station trembled under the weight of the impending conflict, and each second felt like an eternity.

Meanwhile, Garrus, Do'ova, and Akasia raced through the station's corridors, their breaths ragged and hearts pounding. The echoes of their footsteps mingled with the station's blaring alarms, a cacophony of urgency. They knew the docks and Haven held their only hope of escape.
Garrus’s comms cracked to life.

“Go ahead and get out of there. We can make a tear on Haven to escape the station," Reaper commed, her voice a lifeline amidst the turmoil.

“Be careful.” Garrus replied, his voice heavy with concern.

Reaper's mind raced, formulating a plan even as the chaos threatened to consume her. She had to stop Satima, had to save her. The doors of the elevator slid open, revealing Satima's tormented face. Reaper's heart ached, but her resolve hardened; she would do whatever it took.

They clashed inside the elevator, their movements a blur of desperation and fury. Satima quickly gained the upper hand, delivering a hard blow that sent Reaper crashing to the ground. Darkness consumed her vision, and when she awoke, a jolt of adrenaline surged through her veins. She scrambled to her feet, her eyes locking onto Satima across the expansive engineering deck.

Reaper's pulse quickened as she spotted Satima at the console, furiously typing away, oblivious to the chaos around her. "Satima, whatever you're planning, you have to stop!" Reaper's voice trembled with urgency.
Inching closer, her voice wavered with intensity. "Satima, what are you doing?"

Her daughter glared at her, eyes burning with intensity. "Blowing this place to hell!"

"What about the others, Satima? You can't just kill innocent people! There are victims, prisoners on board!" Reaper's voice cracked with desperation as memories surged—the children forced to fight as contenders, their terrified faces haunting her.

"And what if there are new ones trapped on the HIVE right now?" she continued, her heart pounding wildly. "We can't let them die! Please, Satima, this isn't the way!"

Satima's face contorted with a mix of fury and anguish. "They're not children anymore!" she screamed, her voice echoing through the engineering deck. "They're part of his army now!" Her eyes were wild with the horror of what she had witnessed during her incarceration, the brutal transformation of innocent lives into weapons of war.

The Directive, sensing the imminent destruction of the station, sent a flood of voices to halt Satima. The shadow figure loomed ominously, its presence a suffocating weight. Each voice echoed through the corridors, growing louder, more insistent, as if the station itself was protesting against its fate.

Reaper’s voice was low and trembling, "They're subject to the same life as you. Give them a chance, and together we can all stop The Directive. We can stop Callon. This can end, without more bloodshed."

The Directive's presence materialized as a menacing holographic haze. Red and dark grey smoke pulsed ominously, each word it uttered dripping with malice. "You think you can defy the galaxy's true order? You cannot halt the control and synthesis. We are bound. You are reaper."

Reaper felt a wave of nausea surge through her, a singular pain that vibrated and thrummed in her mind. Blood trickled down her nose, and she observed her hybrid child suffering the same. The shadow figure's presence grew, a suffocating cloud of malice that seemed to darken the very air around them.

Reaper's heart pounded as she observed the harsh reality: until they break free from control, they will remain its enslaved puppets.

Satima stopped typing at the console, her fingers trembling, her breath ragged. The hazy figure's influence tightened its grip, filling their minds with a relentless, insidious desire for dominance over the galaxy. She saw horrific visions—death, destruction, chaos. A past harvest of despair. Could Reaper really break this cycle? Was it all truly over?

The darkness within her mind whispered, taunted. Satima's eyes widened with a mix of fear and defiance. She couldn't let it win. She had to fight back, for the sake of those still trapped. The weight of countless lives bore down on her shoulders as she wrestled with the shadow's control.
Reaper's voice echoed in her mind, a beacon of hope amidst the encroaching darkness. "We can stop this, Satima. Together, we can end the suffering." The words gave her strength, igniting a spark of resistance within her.

Satima's hand hovered over the console for a heartbeat, then she slammed her fist down with a cry of fury. The impact shattered the console, sending a shockwave of energy through the room. Alarms blared, and the station began to shake violently, signaling the impending destruction of the HIVE.

The hull walls vibrated with the force of explosions, and hot steam from the eezo cores began to melt the metal floors. Satima and Reaper exchanged a determined glance before sprinting towards the elevator, the screams of trapped lab experiments echoing in the dark halls behind them.

As they reached the docks, Reaper grabbed Satima's hand, and in an instant, they rifted to safety on board Haven, the station's fate sealed in their wake.

Garrus and the crew watched in grim silence as the station erupted into a blazing inferno. The deafening sound of the purge sequence echoed through the empty halls, signaling the end of every last soul on board. Prisoners, experiments, even the villains, all consumed by the merciless explosion.

HIVE disintegrated into a million fiery fragments, casting a sinister glow over Mars's desolate landscape. The echoes of its destruction reverberated through the vacuum of space, a grim testament to the end of a nightmarish chapter. Reaper and Satima had left behind the birthplace of their torment, but the shadows of their past still clung to them like a shroud, haunting their every step.

On Haven, Garrus heard a sudden commotion from the mess. His heart pounded as he sprinted towards the source, fearing the worst. Bursting through the door, he saw both Reaper and Satima locked in a deadly stare. Do'ova and their sentarian friend were close behind, ready for anything.

Until Reaper lunged at the hybrid, her eyes blazing with fury. "You killed them all! Why? There were people still on board! Innocents!" Reaper seized Satima by her armor, shaking her violently.

"...armies to be synthesized, people to be controlled…", Satima muttered. "But it had to end."

Reaper's yell pierced the air, her eyes ablaze with unbridled fury. With a swift, violent movement, she slammed Satima into the wall. "And you dare execute them?!" The girl's desperate attempts to escape were futile as Reaper's fist connected with her, each word a dagger. "You're not my daughter anymore! You're a monster!" The anguish in her voice was palpable, echoing through the tense silence.

With a roar, Garrus launched himself between Reaper and Satima, his eyes blazing with fury. "SHEPARD! ENOUGH!" he bellowed, shoving Reaper aside with all his strength. His heart pounded as he stood protectively in front of Satima, his body tense and ready for anything. "Don't touch her!" he yelled, his voice echoing through the room with an intensity that left everyone momentarily stunned. The air crackled with the charged energy of their confrontation, the silence heavy and oppressive.

Reaper froze, her breath coming in ragged gasps, stunned to hear her old name like a ghost from the past. Satima struggled to her feet, groaning as she wiped the blood trickling from her nose, a gash above her brow pulsing with each heartbeat.

Do'ova tried to help her but was thrown aside. Standing, she glared at Reaper, "Yes, I'm a monster. Just like you!" Satima's voice quivered with a mix of fear and defiance. Without another word, she bolted from the room.

Garrus signaled for Akasia to see Satima at the medbay. He sat, keeping a close eye on Reaper. Haven was quiet. Only his thoughts were loud. Without a doubt, Satima carries his DNA. Despite their differing species and natural biology, science proved them wrong.

Garrus signaled for Akasia to see Satima at the medbay. He sat, his eyes locked on Reaper, his mind a storm of turmoil. Haven was eerily quiet, amplifying the deafening roar of his thoughts. The revelation gnawed at him relentlessly: Satima carried his DNA. The implications were staggering, defying the boundaries of their differing species and natural biology.

Unnatural science. If he had known the truth of Satima's existence, nothing would've stopped him from rescuing her from HIVE. Garrus sat back in his chair, his mind a battlefield of 'what ifs' and grim realities. He imagined Satima as a small girl, his daughter, growing up under his watchful eye. How he would raise her on his own, facing the relentless dangers of their world. This little family would be enough, wouldn't it? But the shadows of their pasts loomed large, threatening to engulf them. Maybe he could've saved Reaper too, and together they could have raised Satima? The thought clawed at his heart, leaving him raw with unspoken fears and regrets.

Garrus found himself struggling against a tide of overwhelming emotions. The universe was a cruel and merciless expanse, an abyss that swallowed hope whole. His eyes burned with unshed tears, a raw testament to the pain etched into his very soul. Reaper's gaze locked with his, a silent question lingering between them. What were they to do with Satima now?

In the medbay, Akasia cleaned the blood from Satima's brow, her hands trembling as she worked. Watching as the nanotech slowly healed the gash, she couldn't shake the deep sense of dread that filled the room. The silence between them was evident, heavy with unspoken words. "I'm so sorry this happened," Akasia whispered, her voice barely audible. "I thought I could make the galaxy a better place..." Her laugh was hollow, devoid of any real mirth. Satima's gaze remained distant, her eyes reflecting a storm of emotions that threatened to engulf them both.

"You know what, Satima," Akasia's voice softened as she gathered her thoughts. "I'm giving you a rifter. You can go to a serene planet, find some peace, start fresh." Her eyes searched Satima's face for any sign of hope or relief. "You deserve that, after everything you've been through."

Satima looked at her, her eyes dark and hollow, "And do I?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Akasia's smile was bittersweet, a fleeting glimpse of hope in a sea of despair. "Yes, Satima. I'll help you leave. I promise not to tell them where you've gone." Her voice trembled with the weight of unspoken sorrows, each word a lifeline in the gathering darkness.

Satima nodded her head, her face downcast. Akasia slowly backed away, her heart heavy with sorrow. She left as Garrus entered, the weight of the galaxy etched into his every step.

He looked at Satima. They stared at each other for a moment. This was strange. She's known him for a good while, but now… he wasn't the cocky merc anymore. Is what Archer said true? Does she have his DNA?

Satima's mind raced, grappling with the revelation. Garrus, the fierce warrior she had always seen as a distant ally, now stood before her with a look of paternal concern. She couldn't reconcile this newfound affection with the hardened soldier she had known.

She felt an unexpected surge of emotion. How could this be? How could the man she had fought beside be her father? The notion seemed impossible, yet the science was undeniable. The reality was overwhelming, leaving her torn between disbelief and a yearning for the familial connection she had never known.

Garrus walked in, his steps heavy with the weight of the revelation. He positioned himself in front of Satima, hesitating as words seemed to fail him. "I can't begin to understand how hard this must be for you," he said, his voice low and strained. "Spirits, I can't even process this yet." He glanced at her, his heart aching at the sight of her emotionless stare. "I need you to know, that I'm here now. Fully… fully here, now. If I can…" he trailed off, the tension in the room growing, the silence almost suffocating.

She interrupted him, her voice a hollow whisper, "I killed all those people." Satima's gaze was distant, haunted by the weight of her actions. The silence that followed was filled with unspoken grief and regret.

Garrus took a tentative step towards Satima, his heart heavy with the weight of her confession. He reached out, wrapping her in a gentle embrace. "It's okay," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "It's going to be okay." He held her close, the silence around them echoing the pain and regret that filled the room.

Satima wept, her tears streaming down her face as she pushed Garrus away with trembling hands. "Jormun is gone," she sobbed, her voice choked with pain. "Don't touch me," she whispered, her body racked with anguish.

He hesitated, his heart heavy with the weight of her words. But he complied, stepping back and allowing her the solitude she craved. As he left the room, the silence wrapped around him like a shroud, each footfall echoing the unspoken grief that lingered in the air.

Reaper lingered in the shadowed doorway of the medbay, her eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before her. The earlier confrontation played over in her mind, each moment a bitter reminder of her actions. She could sense the shift in Satima's demeanor; the innocence that once defined her was now irrevocably lost. A chilling realization settled over her: Satima would never be the same again.

.........................................................................................................................
Terminus systems

Later in the cockpit of Haven, Reaper piloted the ship through the vast expanse of space towards Omega. The journey was filled with an eerie silence, each of the crew members lost in their own thoughts. The hum of the engines provided a steady rhythm, almost comforting in its constancy.

Garrus sat in the co-pilot seat, his eyes occasionally glancing towards Reaper, who was focused on the controls. "We'll refuel and gather supplies," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Reaper nodded, her fingers deftly adjusting the coordinates. "Omega should be a quick stop. Let's make it as uneventful as possible."

Satima, still reeling from the revelation about Garrus, remained secluded in her quarters, her mind a tumultuous whirlpool of emotions.

As Haven approached Omega, the sprawling space station came into view, its neon lights flickering against the backdrop of space. Reaper initiated the docking sequence, her eyes scanning the control panel. "Docking in five minutes," she announced, her voice breaking the silence.
Garrus rose from his seat, stretching his limbs. "Let's stick together and get what we need quickly. Omega isn't known for its hospitality."

The ship shuddered slightly as it made contact with the docking bay.

Reaper expertly maneuvered it into position, securing the landing. The crew prepared to disembark, each step weighed down by the unspoken tension that hung in the air. They needed fuel and supplies, but more than that, they needed a moment to breathe, to recalibrate.

As the hatch opened, the bustling chaos of Omega greeted them. Garrus and Reaper ventured into the labyrinthine markets, while Akasia stayed behind to keep an eye on Satima, hoping that a moment of stillness might bring some solace to her troubled heart.

Do'ova moved through the ship with a heavy heart, each step a painful reminder of Jormun's absence. The usual tasks that once brought a sense of routine now felt burdensome. It was as if the tools themselves mourned their lost owner, their cold metal echoing the void in her heart.

Every corner of the ship whispered his name, and the silence of his absence was deafening.

Her captain, Satima, was a damaged mess, and the crew struggled to hold themselves together. Do'ova felt the weight of responsibility pressing down on her shoulders, the need to make a personal decision gnawing at her. The conflict within her was palpable; the memory of Jormun was a constant, bittersweet presence. She longed to honor his legacy, but the pain of his loss threatened to consume her.

As she walked where Jormun once stood, touching the tools that had belonged to him, a sense of solemnity enveloped her. The tasks that used to be second nature now felt like a ritual of remembrance, each action a tribute to his memory. The ship, once a place of camaraderie and purpose, now seemed like a drifting monument to a fallen comrade.

Meanwhile, Satima couldn't take the armor off for long without the headaches returning, but she could try to learn to move in it. On the small shuttle bay of her ship, she set up a few targets for her blades. Each step felt heavier, each breath more labored, but she pressed on, her determination unwavering.

As Satima practiced in the shuttle bay, her thoughts drifted to the weight of her responsibilities and the irreplaceable loss of Jormun. Each movement felt like an echo of the past, where his guidance and presence had once been a source of strength. The burden of captaincy weighed heavily on her shoulders, intensified by the guilt she felt for the events that led to his death.

She recalled his laughter, his advice, and the way he made the ship feel like home. Now, every step she took was a reminder of her failure to protect him, and every shadow seemed to whisper his name. Her heart ached with the memory of his smile, and the void he left behind seemed impossible to fill.

Satima knew that the crew depended on her, that she needed to be strong for them, but the sorrow was a constant companion, gnawing at her resolve. She gripped her blades tighter, trying to channel her anguish into her practice, hoping that the physical exertion might quiet the turmoil within.

Her reflection was shattered by the reality of their mission, the need to keep moving forward despite the grief. As she impaled another target, she made a silent vow to honor Jormun's memory by becoming the leader he believed she could be. But the path ahead felt lonely, and the ghosts of the past loomed large, ever-present in her mind.

Akasia wandered in, her curiosity piqued by the clanging sounds. "What is this?", she asked, her eyes wide with interest.

"Training," Satima responded, her voice tinged with determination.

"Oh, I see." Akasia wandered around, her curiosity growing as Satima retrieved her sharp weapons. "You prefer melee combat? My sister is all about guns, rifles, and anything that goes boom," Akasia laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

Satima let out a hearty laugh, "That definitely sounds like Reaper. The bigger the boom, the better the grin on her face."

Akasia watched with keen interest as Satima expertly impaled another target. "Is this your ship?", she asked, her curiosity evident.
Satima stops, a playful glint in her eye, "Are you trying to have a friendly conversation?"

"Maybe," Akasia replied with a mischievous smile. "But I do find that a little friendly chat can make even the hardest of training sessions a bit more bearable."

The hybrid rolls her eyes, "Oh absolutely, it's my ship, and I'm the shitty captain who's clearly got everything under control," she retorts with an exaggerated salute.

Akasia's laughter faded, her gaze growing somber. "That quarian boy...was he someone special?" she asked quietly, the weight of her words hanging in the air.

Satima dropped her blade, the sudden shock of Jormun's demise hitting her anew like a physical blow. Her breath caught in her throat, and her body trembled uncontrollably as the full weight of his loss settled over her. Akasia glanced away, sensing the depth of Satima's pain. "I made you upset. I'm sorry," she murmured, starting to leave.

The hybrid stopped her with a raised hand, her voice breaking with emotion. "I miss him. I loved him. And now he's dead because of me. It's all my fault. And... and... HIVE..." Satima fell to her knees, the overwhelming grief and guilt consuming her, leaving her a sobbing wreck on the floor.

Akasia moved closer, her heart aching for her new friend. "It's okay," she whispered, trying to offer comfort.

She swore to herself, her thoughts a tempest of denial and guilt. "It wasn't my idea to destroy the HIVE station," she muttered, her voice tight with anguish. "But the voices... they overwhelmed me, took control. I didn't want this. I never wanted this." The memory of their insidious whispers echoed in her mind, a constant and unrelenting torment that gnawed at her sanity.

"Reaper is so furious with me. They see me as a monster, and maybe they're right. How do I even begin to apologize? I hear Jormun's voice, his absence is a gaping wound. I don't know how to fix this. I don't know if it can be fixed." Satima's voice trembled, her anguish palpable.

Akasia leaned closer, her voice softer, "I know it's not easy. Your capture from the Sentarian vessel... It should never have happened. We failed you. I failed you." She paused, the weight of her own guilt evident. "I promise, we'll find a way to make things right." She placed a comforting hand on Satima's back, grounding her in the present as the young hybrid sobbed.

Do'ova peeped from the corridor entrance. She should've sat there and comforted her captain. Yet, the somber reality of the situation weighed heavily on her mind. It felt wrong to pretend that Satima was completely innocent in all this. The true victim is Jormun. And the homeworld he'll never see again.

................................................................
On Omega...

Reaper and Garrus wander around the station, a silent journey between them. What could they talk about? Satima has lost her mind and it's Reaper's fault.

Reaper and Garrus wandered through the dimly lit corridors of the station, their footsteps echoing off the metallic walls. The air was thick with the scent of engine oil and the faint hum of distant machinery. Reaper led the way, her movements purposeful yet tense, as if each step carried the weight of her guilt.

Garrus observed her closely, his mandibles twitching with concern. "Reaper, where are we going?" he asked, breaking the silence that had settled between them.

Reaper didn't look back, her gaze focused on the path ahead. "There's a place I need to show you. It's where I first realized the true extent of what had been done to me... and what might happen to Satima," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

They passed through a series of narrow passageways, the station's architecture becoming more decrepit and abandoned the further they went. The neon lights flickered sporadically, casting eerie shadows that danced along the walls. Reaper's mind was a whirlwind of memories and regrets, each one more painful than the last.

Garrus fell into step beside her. "You can't blame yourself for everything, Reaper. We've all made mistakes," he said softly.

Reaper's jaw clenched. "But not like this," she muttered. "I was supposed to guide her, protect her. Instead, I led her into the very thing I feared most."

They reached a derelict section of the station, where old market stalls stood empty and the scent of neglect hung heavy in the air. Reaper stopped in front of a nondescript door, her hand hovering over the handle.

"This is it," she said, her voice trembling slightly.

Garrus watched her, waiting. Reaper took a deep breath and opened the door, revealing a small, dimly lit room. The walls were lined with old, rusting equipment, and a single flickering light bulb hung from the ceiling. She stepped inside, her eyes scanning the room as if searching for answers.

"This is where I tried to fight against the indoctrination," she explained. "But it was too late. The nanobots had already taken hold, and I was losing myself piece by piece."

Garrus placed a hand on her shoulder, offering silent support. "We won't let that happen to Satima," he promised. "We'll find a way to fix this."

Reaper's breath hitched, the weight of her confession hanging in the air like a storm about to break. "Everything Archer said—about me, about Satima—it's true. There are moments when my mind slips, memories fade. You need to understand, Garrus, I am indoctrinated. I have been for a long time. And now, so is Satima." She paused, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and determination.

Reaper checked the room, the tension visible in the air. She began to remove her common clothes with a sense of urgency. Garrus was taken aback. "What are you doing?" he asked, his voice tinged with alarm and surprise.

She removed her top layer of clothing swiftly, revealing the harsh reality beneath. It had been a long time since Garrus had seen her like this, a stark reminder of the past days filled with the conflict of their interspecies intimacy. Reaper did not seem embarrassed, but driven by urgency. "Look at me," she commanded, her voice edged with a sense of desperation.

He did. His eyes locked onto the cybernetics weaving across her chest, each line pulsating with a dim, eerie glow. The sight was both mesmerizing and terrifying. His gaze fell upon a small, angry red patch on the side of her left breast that led to her arm.

"What is this?" he asked, his voice edged with a mix of dread and curiosity.

Reaper sighed, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and sorrow. "Do you see this?" She lifted her arm, revealing a patch of skin slowly transforming into the dark, husk-like texture that signified the Reaper's influence. "This is what will happen to her. The longer the nanobots stay within her body, the more her anatomy will change. Her genetics will change. She'll become more like a Reaper every day until she is consumed. Like me."

The sight was both mesmerizing and terrifying, a stark reminder of the fate Satima faced. Reaper's eyes glistened with unshed tears, her fear evident in every word. "I can't let this happen to her, Garrus. I can't lose her to the same fate."

Garrus felt a deep, aching sorrow as he looked at Reaper, his heart heavy with the weight of her confession. Hesitantly, he reached out and gently touched her bare shoulder, feeling the living tech pulsate beneath his taloned fingers. "I'm so sorry, Shepard," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I failed to protect you from this."

She lowered her gaze, her mind a battleground of conflicting thoughts. "You are not responsible for what happened to me. I should have done things differently… or forced the asari to help. But even as I say this, I wonder if there was ever truly another choice. Maybe this was inevitable." Her voice wavered, a mix of regret and resignation.

He gently traced his taloned fingers from her shoulder to her face, caressing her cheek with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the harshness of their reality. "Do you remember," he whispered, his voice heavy with emotion, "when you told me you loved me, just before you stormed the beam to the Citadel on your planet?"

Reaper's breath trembled as she leaned forward, her lips meeting Garrus's in a kiss that was both tender and desperate. It lasted only a few seconds, but in that brief moment, the weight of their shared past and the intensity of their connection surged to the surface. They pulled apart, their eyes locking, searching for reassurance and understanding.
Reaper quickly redressed, her hands shaking slightly as she fastened her clothing. "Garrus," she whispered, her voice filled with a mixture of longing and sorrow, "I never thought we'd be here again, standing on the edge of something so uncertain."

Garrus stepped closer, his taloned fingers gently tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. "Shepard," he said softly, using the name he always called her in moments of deep emotion, "we've faced so much together. This, too, we will overcome."

A tear slipped down Reaper's cheek, and Garrus wiped it away with a tenderness that belied his rugged exterior. "I promised I would always be by your side, no matter what."

Reaper nodded, a faint smile tugging at her lips as the memory washed over her. "I remember," she said. "It was one of the few moments of peace we had amidst the chaos. You made me feel alive, Garrus, even when everything around us was falling apart."

Garrus's eyes softened, his heart aching with the depth of his feelings for her. "And you made me believe in something greater than myself," he replied. "You gave me hope, Shepard. You still do."

They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of their past and the uncertainty of their future hanging between them. But in that shared silence, there was also a profound sense of comfort, a reminder of the bond that had brought them together and would carry them through whatever lay ahead.

Reaper reached out, her fingers intertwining with Garrus's. "We'll find a way to save Satima," she said, her voice steady with newfound determination. "And we'll do it together, just like we've always done."
Garrus squeezed her hand, a fierce resolve in his eyes. "Together," he echoed.

With a final, lingering glance at the room that held so many painful memories, they turned and made their way back through the passageways, their steps synchronized in a rhythm that spoke of their enduring partnership. They led each other back to Haven, both equally horrified for Satima's future but united in their resolve to change it.

.........................................................................
Inside, Do'ova meticulously adjusted the intricate web of wires around the bay door, her fingers moving with precision and care. In the corner, Akasia was deeply engrossed in her work on Satima's armor tech, her brow furrowed in concentration. Satima stood motionless, her unease visible as the sentarian worked on her.

"Satima," Reaper said sharply as she walked in, the air thick with unspoken questions and urgent desperation.

The hybrid turned to her mother, her voice trembling with urgency. "Akasia is trying to figure out how to deactivate my link to the suit without it killing me. She's smart," Satima said, her eyes wide with desperation. But when Reaper didn't return her hopeful smile, the atmosphere grew heavy with tension.

Garrus stepped forward, his eyes narrowing with concern and curiosity. "How exactly would it kill you?" he asked, his voice a low, tense whisper.
"Well, The Directive's transmission is still strong. Although the HIVE was the main directional link, there are scattered bases that can still signal. There must be one nearby," Akasia answered, her voice filled with urgency.

Reaper's eyes narrowed, processing the information. "You're saying that armor is controlled by The Directive? Mine wasn't at all."

Akasia stepped away from Satima, bringing out her datapad. "Your link was here." She pointed to Reaper's head. "You and Archer both had neural connections. Satima's control is embedded through her armor.

The Directive engineered this control into her, both genetically and otherwise. This makes it considerably more difficult to sever without causing harm."

Satima's eyes widened as the implication of Akasia's words sank in. "So, unless we find a way to disable the armor's connection to The Directive, I'm a walking threat?"

"In a sense, yes," Akasia affirmed. "But there's hope. If we can isolate and neutralize the signal that's manipulating the armor, we might be able to free you from their grasp."

Reaper's jaw tightened with determination. "Then we need to find that base and destroy it. We can't take any risks with Satima's life."
Garrus nodded. "Agreed. We need to act fast. The longer we wait, the more dangerous it gets."

Akasia's eyes met Reaper's, filled with a mix of hope and caution. "I'll start working on a plan to locate the nearest Directive base. It won't be easy, but it's our best shot at saving Satima."

Akasia scanned Satima's armor and explained further, "The Directive made sure Satima's control was deeply embedded to prevent compromise, unlike Reaper and Archer who had neural connections."
"So, you're saying all those deaths were because of her?" Reaper's gaze bore into Satima, his voice edged with a mixture of disbelief and anger.

"Again, I can't be sure without more tests," Akasia replied, her voice tinged with uncertainty as she glanced down.

Satima glanced down, her face shadowed with doubt. The weight of her predicament seemed unbearable, and the tension in the room thickened. The recent destruction of the HIVE and Reaper's anger loomed heavily over her thoughts.

The ship's engines roared to life as Haven prepared to exit the Omega system. Reaper strode purposefully towards the shuttle bay, her mind set on the mission ahead. Satima monitored the flight from the cockpit, her eyes scanning the controls and displays with a determined focus. Akasia stood beside her, observing the shuttle deck and the prefab med bay, noting the ship's age and the remarkable way it held together despite the years.

As they broke through Omega's atmosphere, the signal from the Directive began to weaken, providing a small but much-needed relief to Satima. The vastness of space unfolded before them, stars glinting like distant beacons of hope.

Garrus, busy securing crates on the deck, seemed unusually cheerful given the circumstances. Akasia approached him, her curiosity piqued. "Where is our next destination?" she inquired.

Garrus nearly jumped, not having noticed her presence. "I... uh, I'm not sure. I haven't been thinking about that lately," he admitted, his thoughts still on Reaper's recent revelations.

Akasia studied him closely, "Are you alright? You look distracted."
Garrus set down the crate he was holding, a frown creasing his brow. "I'm fine. I think I'll go and speak with Reaper, though." He made his way through the ship's quarters, eventually spotting Do'ova pacing in the mess hall.

The young salarian was lost in thought until she noticed Garrus. "Oh! I didn't see you there. Yes, well... how is everything? I mean, the captain. Is she really like Reaper? What's going on?" she asked, her words tumbling out in a rush.

Garrus held up a hand to calm her. "Just relax. Satima is doing better. We're going to find signals to shut down the armor. It's what is linking Satima to the Directive."

Do'ova visibly relaxed. "Oh, well... good. Then she is going to be okay, after all." She sat down, her relief evident. "I would like to thank you for helping us. For staying, I mean."

Garrus approached her, folding his long arms. "I wish I could have protected Jormun. I'm tired of seeing kids like you get hurt," he said, a deep sadness in his voice. "About your family..." he began, but the words caught in his throat as memories of past losses resurfaced.

She sat up quickly, urgency flashing in her eyes. "We found out where they're being held. Satima and Jormun vowed to rescue them, but now... now it seems impossible." Her voice trembled with emotion. "I know we're in grave danger, and we can't just abandon our mission to help me. But that's why I've made a decision."

"What decision?", Satima asked, stepping into the room with an air of concern mixed with curiosity.

"Captain?" Do'ova blurted, her voice trembling with urgency. "I need to speak to you. It's critical."

Satima stood to the side, leaning on the hull wall, her eyes locked onto Do'ova with deep concern etched across her face. "I'm listening."

Her salarian crew member paced anxiously. "Jormun is gone, Satima. And the directive is hunting us. You have numerous enemies now. And… my family… they-they're still in grave danger too. I want to continue helping, but every time I close my eyes… I see him." Her voice broke, tears welling in her eyes. "My father."

The captain lowered her gaze, her voice heavy with sorrow. "You want to leave to go find them."

Garrus objected sharply, "Not by yourself. We need to stick together, here."

Satima and Do'ova exchanged glances, a silent understanding passing between them. "Take the fighter and whatever you need. Be careful," Satima said, her voice heavy with concern. She stepped toward her friend, holding out a hand. Do'ova took it gingerly, her grip betraying the turmoil within. "I forgive you for what happened with my family. None of us are heroes. We're just kids," she chuckled softly, though her eyes shone with unspoken pain.

Her captain looked away, suddenly remembering something. "Wait. Before you go." She dashed to her quarters, rummaging through her things like a varren looking for a lost bone. Emerging with a dark brown jacket, Satima handed it to Do'ova. "For luck. I can't get out of my armor until this link is turned off. And besides… you need to look badass when saving your family." She grinned mischievously. "Plus, it has pockets. You can never have too many pockets."

Do'ova's eyes lit up as she took the jacket with trembling hands. "Wow! This is amazing!" She slipped it on, admiring the fit and the numerous pockets. "Look at all these pockets! This is perfect!" She twirled around, feeling a surge of confidence and excitement. "Thank you, Satima. This means the galaxy to me."

At the bay, Garrus and Satima assisted Do'ova as she prepared for her journey. The door opened with a kinetic barrier, revealing the vast and infinite expanse of the galaxy. She stood at the open hatch of the fighter, a sense of finality enveloping the moment. "Well, I guess this is goodbye. I don't know what will happen," she worried, her voice laced with uncertainty and sorrow.

Garrus shook her small salarian hand, a hint of a smile tugging at his mandibled mouth. "You're going to save them, Do'ova. And then find us at a bar on Omega. Drinks are on me for the first round." His voice was light, but the shadows in his eyes hinted at the weight of their situation.

Do'ova's salarian cheeks flushed a deep shade of brown as she glanced at Garrus, her eyes betraying a flicker of admiration. "Thank you, Captain, for everything," she said softly, tearing her gaze away from Satima with a heavy heart. "For everything you've done and for the things you tried to do. For us, for this crew."

They clasped hands tightly, a solemn farewell lingering in the air. Satima's voice trembled with a mixture of sorrow and hope. "Keelah se'lai, Do'ova Solus."

As the young salarian boarded the scouter craft, Garrus chuckled quietly to himself. The little ship had made its way out of the hangar and into space. Once she had left, Satima turned to him. "What's so funny?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

He sighed deeply. "It's nothing, Satima."

........................................................................................
Reaper sat cross-legged in the engine room, the rhythmic hum of the machinery her only company. Yet, even the soothing vibrations couldn't drown out the storm brewing in her mind. She needed clarity, desperately.

Samara had long ago instilled in her the art of introspection. Now, those teachings surged to the fore, filling Reaper with a torrent of questions and emotions. Was Satima truly a threat? Could mercy be a guise for an unthinkable act? And if she took that step, would Garrus despise her for it?

Satima acted too normal. Or was it that she simply buried her feelings, much like Reaper always did? A faint rustle at the doorway alerted her. Garrus poked his head in, moving silently. He leaned down next to her ear, his voice barely above a whisper. "We need to talk," he said, a sense of urgency in his tone.

She opened her eyes with a smirk. "You don't have to whisper, Garrus. I'm not a sleeping varren you need to tiptoe around."

He sat next to her, his voice a mere whisper, "Well, just in case. I don't want you to throw me into the hull for disturbing you." Garrus nudged her arm gently. "We need to discuss Satima. Akasia mentioned the signal from The Directive—something that can affect the armor. If we can get Satima out of the armor, we might be able to stop them from taking control."

Reaper shifted uneasily on the floor, her mind swirling with the memory of HIVE's destruction and her recent introspection. "I can't believe she blew up the station and killed all those people," she muttered, her voice laced with anguish. "And when we came back, she didn't even flinch or acknowledge the horror of it all. Not even over Jormun." Her words trembled with a mixture of disbelief and anger, unaware of the breakdown in emotions and guilt Satima had shown to Akasia.

Garrus stared at her, his concern palpable. "Reaper, do you hear me? We need to get that armor off of Satima, and soon."

She stood quickly, her frustration evident. "And then what?", Reaper yelled. "Play family? The Directive is still out there...Archer is still out there. He's not dead, and he will be looking for us. Not to mention the damn Sentarians."

Her voice cracked as she continued, "Everywhere I turn, it's like there's no escaping this nightmare. The people we've lost, the devastation... it all just keeps piling up. And now you want me to believe that Satima can be trusted after everything she's done?"

Garrus stood slowly, his eyes narrowing. "Do you blame Satima? Because from where I'm standing, it sounds like you're trying to heap all the responsibility and guilt onto her."

"Reaper, we've all been through hell. Satima's actions may seem unforgivable, but consider the circumstances," Garrus continued, his voice steady but laden with conviction. "The Directive's influence isn't something you can just shake off. It twists and manipulates until there's nothing left but a puppet. She didn't blow up HIVE out of malice; she was under their control."

Reaper's eyes flickered with doubt, but she remained silent, her gaze hardening.

"And think about Jormun," Garrus pressed on. "She didn't ignore his death. You weren't there to see it, but she mourned in her own way. Just because she doesn't show it the same way you do, doesn't mean she doesn't feel it. The guilt, the horror... it's tearing her apart, Reaper."
He stepped closer, his tone softening. "You can't blame her for everything. We need to focus on the real enemy here: The Directive. If we can free Satima from their grasp, we gain our daughter back. But if we keep pushing her away, we lose her forever."

Reaper's expression wavered, the walls around her heart showing cracks as Garrus's words sank in. She took a deep breath, the weight of their reality pressing down on her shoulders. "Maybe you're right," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But how do we get her out without losing more people?"

Garrus nodded, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "We do it together, Reaper. We face this nightmare head-on, and we save Satima from the darkness. It's the only way."

Reaper looked away, her thoughts a tumult of guilt and uncertainty. "You’re right," she acknowledged, her voice strained with the weight of their dire circumstances. She could only hope that in their desperate bid to save Satima, they wouldn't end up losing even more lives.

..................................................................................
Back in the cockpit, Garrus stepped behind Satima at the controls. Akasia walked in with datapads in hand, her expression determined. "There's a planet in the Exodus Cluster," she began, her voice steady. "It houses a Directive satellite station. If we can get there, we might be able to copy the signal safely and figure out a way to reroute it to Satima's armor. This could be the key to breaking their control."

Reaper glanced up from her console, her eyes reflecting a glimmer of hope amidst the turmoil. "Are you sure this will work?" she asked, her tone laced with cautious optimism.

Akasia nodded, her conviction unwavering. "It's our best shot. The Directive's signal is powerful, but if we can isolate it and understand its mechanisms, we can neutralize its effects. We'll need to be careful, though. The station will be heavily guarded, and the Directive won't let us in without a fight."

"It's the best news we've had in days," Garrus replies, his voice tight with urgency.

"Which planet?", Reaper asks, her voice taut with anticipation.

"Eden Prime," Akasia responds, her voice cutting through the tension like a beacon of hope in the darkness.

Garrus nearly trips into Reaper, his face contorting with disappointment and shock. "Figures," he mutters.

............................................................................
Eden Prime
Eden Prime, a serene haven, hovered gracefully over the satellite station surrounded by lush gardens and vibrant forests. Upon landing on the docking pad, the team felt a moment of surreal calmness despite the urgency of their mission.

Reaper, ever vigilant, took the lead. Her steps were purposeful, echoing the silent determination of the crew as they entered the station. The weight of their task lay heavy on their shoulders, but the sight of Satima's freedom spurred them onward.

"There's a power grid on the lower level, tier three," Akasia pointed out, her eyes gleaming with purpose. "If we can get down there, we'll find the signal link. Maybe we can even uncover some crucial information about The Directive."

A squad of soldiers confronted them as soon as they entered the lobby. The air became thick with tension as the first shots rang out. "Take cover!" Reaper commanded, her voice cutting through the chaos. She expertly maneuvered her Sentarian-designed rifle, firing radioactive laser beams that sliced through the enemy ranks.

The enemy monitors flickered and shattered under the onslaught, sending sparks flying in a dazzling display. Reaper's shots were precise and unyielding, each one finding its mark with lethal efficiency. The Directive militants, unprepared for the ferocity of the attack, scrambled to find cover, but many fell as the radiation burned through their armor and into their flesh.

Amidst the turmoil, Garrus deftly set up trip mines along their path, ensuring that any pursuers would face a rude awakening. "We've got to keep moving!" Akasia urged, her eyes scanning for the quickest route to their objective. The stakes had never been higher, and the team knew that every second counted.

Reaper's determination was sure as she led the charge, her steps echoing the unspoken resolve of her comrades.

Meanwhile, inside Haven, Satima waited in tense anticipation. Reaper had strictly forbidden her from stepping outside, fearing that the powerful signal's strength could overwhelm her, seizing control. The barrier around her cockpit hummed with energy, serving as a constant reminder of the ever-present danger.

The seconds stretched into minutes, each one laden with a mix of fear and hope. Satima's fingers drummed restlessly on the control panel, her eyes flicking to the comms, waiting for any sign of the team's return.
Minutes crawled by, each one more excruciating than the last. Satima could hardly stand the wait, the silence pressing down on her like a physical weight. She sprang up from her seat, her nerves on edge, and ventured down into the engine room despite the looming danger, her thoughts drifting back to Jormun.

His presence had always brought a sense of warmth and comfort, now replaced by a chilling void. Memories of their last embrace haunted her, a bittersweet echo of what could have been. She couldn't shake the thought that perhaps she would never again find someone who made her feel so alive amidst the chaos.

The comms crackled to life, shattering her reverie. The urgency in the message was evident, dragging her back to the harsh reality of their mission.

"..satima.. akasia has the data... yo.. to get.. out... he's.. ing... he's coming!"

It was Reaper's voice, sharp and urgent. Satima's heart raced as she sprinted to the cockpit, her hands trembling as she activated the thrusters. Every second felt like an eternity, the engines roaring to life as she prepared to retrieve her comrades and make a desperate escape.
She heard a faint voice coming from the chaos behind her. Satima hesitated, her heart pounding in her chest, before forcing herself to rise and follow the eerie sound into the shuttle bay.

Reaper led the team back to the landing pad, every step fraught with the imminent threat of discovery. Directive soldiers swarmed the area, their weapons blazing and leaving little room for error. Garrus, ever resourceful, hacked into the turret system perched above the buildings, transforming a potential death trap into their makeshift shield.

"I don't see Satima anywhere!" Akasia's shout barely pierced through the cacophony of gunfire and exploding ordnance.

Reaper's eyes narrowed as she scanned the chaos, her mind racing to formulate a plan. "She's still inside. Come on," she growled, her omni-tool lighting up as she sent the crucial message. The team's movement was a synchronized dance of urgency and precision, each member acutely aware that hesitation could spell doom.

Once they boarded Haven, Garrus immediately took the helm, his fingers flying over the controls as the ship began to ascend. Akasia's eyes darted around the cabin, anxiety etched on her face. "Are you sure she received the message?"

A moment of tense silence followed, broken only by Reaper’s curt nod. Just then, the comms crackled back to life, the sound of Satima’s voice cutting through the tension like a knife. "... Shepard!"

The relief was short-lived. They all ran, hearts pounding, imaginations running wild with what they might find. "Ka Nic Ta!" Akasia's urgent cry echoed through the bay as they arrived to a horrifying scene.
Archer held Satima above the floor by her throat, his eyes gleaming with malevolence. "Taking away the directive's toy?" he hissed, before flinging her across the bay like a ragdoll.

Satima landed heavily at their feet, but Garrus was quick to help her up. Reaper's voice was a low, dangerous growl. "HIVE is gone. The Directive is weakened. You have nothing, Archer. Leave us be."

Standing before them was a damaged droid husk, black-like substance oozing where blood should have flowed. Archer, injured and desperate, sneered at her defiance. "Never. I made her; she belongs to me. The Directive is still in control, and only I can sever it."

With a roar, he lunged, but Satima was ready. Their clash was a blur of deflected blows and raw power, each strike reverberating with the force of their resolve. Reaper joined the fray, adding her strength to the battle. Meanwhile, Akasia focused intensely on her pad, the decryption sequence edging closer to completion. If she finished before Archer was neutralized, Satima would be in grave danger, unless her reaper tech activated in time to regenerate.

Garrus provided support, his precise shots aimed to avoid the melee. "I can't stop the sequence," Akasia's voice trembled with panic, the pressure of their dire situation weighing heavily on every second that passed.

Garrus offered pot shots, careful to stay back from the enhanced fighters. Akasia worked on her pad, "I can't stop the sequence.", she said panicked.

Garrus's voice was strained. "What do you mean?" he demanded.

"The reroute... if it starts before..." Akasia's voice was cut off as the ship jolted violently, an ominous claxon echoing through the corridors. The skirmish halted, all eyes darting towards the source of the alarm. The Sentarians had breached their defenses, with Commander Callon leading the assault.

He unleashed a barrage of firepower on Haven, aiming to cripple the ship and leave them defenseless.

Satima delivered a blow to Archer, kicking him back. She could rig his rifter to implode, killing him by taking him apart, but he would have to be away from Haven.

Archer roared in rage, his eyes blazing with hatred. "You think you can beat me?" he spat, lunging forward with a ferocious swing. Satima sidestepped, her movements fluid and precise, but the force of his attack sent her stumbling.

Reaper joined the fray, her strikes swift and calculated. "You're nothing without HIVE," she taunted, landing a punch that sent Archer reeling.
Satima and Reaper fought side by side, their blows synchronized in a deadly rhythm. Archer, though injured and desperate, fought back with a ferocity born of madness. He managed to land a hit on Satima, knocking her to the ground. Reaper retaliated instantly, her attack relentless as she drove him back.

"The sequence is almost done!" Akasia's voice trembled with urgency.
Garrus provided cover fire, his shots precise and unwavering. "Keep it up! We can't let him win!"

Amid the pandemonium, Stalkers appeared, their menacing forms moving with deadly precision. Akasia's sequence started, and Satima groaned in pain, her body beginning to shut down. Reaper helped her up, deflecting Archer's blows with fierce determination.

"It's working!" Satima shouted, her voice strained as she fought through the pain.

Reaper beat Archer back, causing him to stumble over crates. "Now, you die, bastard," she spat, her eyes burning with resolve.

Archer laughed, a cruel and hollow sound. "Even if you kill me, she'll never be free," he sneered, taking out a concealed pistol and aiming it at Satima. He fired, but Reaper pushed Satima down just in time.

The Stalkers seized Archer, embedding a neural destabilizer on him, rendering him harmless. Garrus ran over to Reaper and Satima, relief evident on his face as Akasia looked around, satisfied that no one else was hurt.

Mem-Zurah appeared, her presence commanding. "We got here in time. Callon is not pleased with your actions, sister," she informed Akasia. "Or mine."

Reaper stood, helping Satima to her feet. They both smiled, their laughter a sound of victory and relief. "It's over. The Directive can't use me anymore," Satima grinned.

"And soon, we can take the nanotech out. You'll be completely normal," Reaper replied, equally excited.

Akasia stepped up to them, her eyes gleaming with determination. "I'm glad I could help. With this, everything should be okay from here on out."
Satima followed Reaper to Archer's incarceration by the Sentarian Stalkers. Her vision blurred, and she grasped the hull wall, her breathing growing shallow as she fought to stay conscious.

Garrus stood next to them. "Wonder what's going to happen to this bastard," he muttered, his voice laced with unease.

"I hope he suffers the consequences," Reaper hissed through clenched teeth, her eyes never leaving Archer's defeated form.

Satima collapsed behind them, her form crumpling to the cold metal floor. Akasia knelt beside her, panic rising in her voice, "Satima? Wake up!" She shook the hybrid gently but firmly, desperation in her movements. Reaper and Garrus turned, their faces draining of color as they saw Satima lying motionless.

Blood seeped from a wound hidden by her dark armor, pooling beneath her. Reaper's eyes widened in horror, "No... Satima!" Her voice cracked, a mix of disbelief and fear.

Garrus scanned the corridor, his mind racing for a solution. "We need to get her to the med bay, now!" he urged, his voice strained with urgency.
Akasia's hands trembled as she applied pressure to the wound, her own fear mirrored in Satima's fading eyes. "Stay with us, Satima. Please, stay with us,"

The once triumphant air was now thick with tension and dread as they fought against the ticking clock, each second slipping away like grains of sand. Satima's breathing grew shallow, and her grip on Akasia's arm weakened.

Reaper's resolve hardened, her voice low and fierce, "We'll save you, Satima. We won't let you go."

The moment was a haunting juxtaposition of hope and despair, their unity now a fragile lifeline for Satima as she succumbed to the gunshot wound, the reality of their battle's cost hitting them with full force.

Onboard the command carrier, Callon stormed into the medical wing. His piercing glare cut through the air, landing on the traitor Akasia before shifting to Reaper. "We have Archer secured. He can serve a purpose."
"Just as Satima served hers?"

Reaper snapped, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. "Or was that a failure in communication? You nearly killed my daughter! I allowed you to use me, and you still betrayed us."

Callon's smirk twisted with malice. "This ship is under my absolute command. You are neither Sentarian nor an ally! Merely a tool for the eradication of the reapers. And let's not forget, it wasn't me who obliterated HIVE to ashes."

"Wait... eradicate? I thought we were supposed to rewrite them?" Akasia questioned, her voice trembling with a mix of confusion and fear.

Callon paced towards Satima as the medical tech sealed her wound. His eyes were sharp, every word he spoke laced with an intensity that cut through the room.

"Rewriting would mean coexisting. I want them destroyed... I want their blood spilled for the massacre of our people, Akasia. We haven't had a signal from command for years. Years of silence. We're all alone here, abandoned by our own. Fighting to keep our home safe, fighting for survival. Isn't that what you want?"

"We can't go home?" Akasia's voice trembled, her eyes wide with shock. She stumbled backward, her breath quickening as the weight of their situation crashed down on her.

Reaper stood next to Satima, her eyes flicking between the wounded girl and the looming threat of Callon and his followers. "They are synthesis, Akasia. And they must be destroyed. This galaxy belongs to us, not them."

Akasia's voice trembled with intensity, "These women are not your enemies! The reapers twisted and tortured them, and they are victims just like us!" Her plea hung in the air, charged with desperation and defiance.

Mem-Zurah's patience snapped. With a swift motion, she slapped Akasia across the face, her eyes burning with urgency and fear. "You have gone too far, sister," she hissed, struggling to keep her voice low. "Don't you see? Callon's anger could destroy us both. We need to be smarter, not reckless."

Akasia's breath quickened as she stepped back, her heart pounding in her chest. Stunned, she backed away from the medical wing, her mind racing with fear and desperation. Callon's sinister smile cut through the tension as he left for the command deck, his presence lingering like a dark shadow.

Mem-Zurah's eyes darted around, her body tense and ready for action, while Garrus paced back and forth, his worry etched into every line of his face.

It had been an hour. Satima started a spiking fever. Something is wrong. The medical tech provided scans and samples, his expression tight with bewilderment. "She needs a blood transfusion, nothing too complex," he said, his voice tense. "Though her injury is dangerous, it is not currently life-threatening. Still... to cause her blood cells to be attacked by her immune system? This is completely abnormal." He stood, staring at the data, his posture rigid with confusion and concern.

"What do you mean?", Reaper demanded, her voice sharp with irritation.

"Her body is reacting to this wound as if it can't reproduce more blood cells," the medical tech muttered, his eyes darting across the data on the screen. Beads of sweat began to form on his brow as he quickly processed the information. "Though I've closed the injury, her cells are attacking each other. There seems to be a stem-cell deficiency as well. Without a proper blood count, she could fall into a coma and die. I need more time to understand this."

His hands trembled slightly as he adjusted the settings on the scanner, trying to get a clearer picture of what was happening within Satima's body. The room was filled with the soft hum of medical equipment, but the tension was palpable. Every second felt like an hour as the stakes became increasingly dire.

“Can’t you help her?" Garrus demanded, his voice a mixture of frustration and desperation. He stepped closer, peering over the tech's shoulder, his own worry only adding to the mounting pressure.

The medical tech took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm under the weight of the situation. "It's as if her immune system is in overdrive, attacking her own blood cells. This is completely abnormal for any human physiology I've studied. We need to act fast or we'll lose her."

Reaper yanked off her arm brace, exposing her bare skin. She thrust her arm toward the medical tech, her voice a tense command. "Take my blood for Satima. Now."

The medical tech swiftly drew a substantial quantity of blood from Reaper, his movements precise and urgent. As the crimson liquid flowed into the fusion chamber, he meticulously filtered it, ensuring its purity. With a sense of determination, he started an IV into Satima's abdomen, the life-giving blood coursing through her veins, a race against time to save her life.

Ten agonizing minutes passed with no sign of improvement, the air thick with tension. Akasia burst into the room with urgency. "What's happening? Is Satima going to be alright?" she demanded, her voice edged with panic.

"Her immune system is refusing to function properly. She needs more blood and fast," Reaper announced, her eyes narrowing with determination as she swiftly prepared for another IV.

Akasia's eyes flashed with frustration as she glanced over the scans. "And nothing is getting better?" she snapped, her voice edged with fury. She turned to the medical tech, her glare intense. "You fool! She's not entirely human. It takes both of their blood!"

Akasia's mind raced as she commanded the medical tech to retrieve blood from Garrus. Every second felt like an eternity, the room thick with an oppressive silence. The medical tech's hands moved with urgent precision, his face a mask of concentration. The seconds ticked by agonizingly slow as the new batch of blood entered the fusion chamber. Akasia's heart pounded as she administered the final transfusion to Satima, her hands trembling slightly.

Everyone's breath was held, the tension almost unbearable, as they watched the cerulean liquid flow into Satima's veins, each drop a lifeline. Would it be enough? Akasia's eyes darted between the monitors, praying for a sign of improvement, her body rigid with fear and hope.

Within the hour, the transfusion worked its magic, stabilizing Satima's vitals. Akasia couldn't stop pacing, her eyes never leaving her friend. Finally, to everyone's relief, Satima's eyes fluttered open.

The hybrid received scan after scan, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and determination. Akasia’s voice cut through the anxious silence, summarizing the dire situation. "The signal must've triggered a failsafe within your body's nanotech, affecting your immune system. Your hybrid DNA is a dangerous blend."

Satima’s breath quickened as the gravity of the situation settled in. "Without both genetic parents, any serious injury could be life-threatening. You're susceptible to a rare type of anemia. It could take years to develop a perfect transfusion solution that doesn't rely on their blood," Akasia revealed, her omni-tool casting a soft glow on their worried faces.

"For now," Akasia continued, her voice a mix of resolve and urgency, "your immune system seems to be stabilized with the current transfusion. But we’re on borrowed time. I wish we had the luxury to conduct more tests, to understand and counteract this better."

The room was thick with tension, every second feeling like an eternity as they grappled with the precariousness of Satima’s condition.
"In other words, I'm doomed," Satima whispered, her voice trembling with fear and resignation.

Reaper shook her head, her voice low and grave, "More reason to keep you close. Where is the armor?

"It's in the containment room, along with Archer," Akasia replied, her voice taut with urgency.

Callon summoned them to the command deck, the urgency in his voice evident.

They watched as the jade-skinned commander paced back and forth, his expression a tempest of worry and anger. His muttered curses heightened the tension, leaving the rest of the sentarian crew on edge.

"We have discovered The Directive's true plan," Callon declared, his voice edged with urgency. "They've constructed a parallel conduit on a distant colony world. The reapers are closing in on our home system, and we cannot let this happen. Reaper, despite our past conflicts, we need your expertise now more than ever."

Reaper shakes her head, a bitter smile playing on her lips. "How ironic," she murmured, the weight of disbelief heavy in her voice.

"This rifter-conduit has another use," Callon began, his voice steady but his eyes reflecting the urgency of the situation. "Reaper, we need you to go back to your past. Destroy the Intelligence and bring peace."

Reaper's eyes widened in shock. "You want me to travel back in time and change the course of history?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Callon nodded, his expression earnest. "It's our only hope. The Intelligence is the root of our current predicament. If you can prevent its creation, you might be able to avert this crisis altogether."

Reaper took a deep breath, the weight of the mission settling heavily on her shoulders. "Time travel," she murmured, the concept almost too surreal to grasp. "This is beyond insanity."

Akasia, standing nearby, couldn't hide her disbelief. "How can we even be sure it will work?" she questioned, her eyes darting between Callon and Reaper.

Callon met her gaze, his resolve unshaken. "Only your primitive minds cannot fathom the intricate design of this universe. You have no idea what I have witnessed while you struggled to leave the dark ages of your people."

Akasia began to speak, "Perhaps we should plan for the assault? Or find the parallel conduit? Instead of arguing."

Reaper and Garrus left for the council room, vexed and unsure of what Callon was planning next. Akasia stayed with Satima. The girl attended to herself, looking at the data from her blood samples. "Confusing," she said, tossing the pad aside.

Akasia stood next to her, "I can still help you escape if you want. Your mother and father seem capable enough to take care of this themselves."
"I can't leave them behind. This is my war, too. If I can stop The Directive and finally kill Archer, I won't waste a chance by cowering," Satima replied. "And they are not my mother and father. I'm just genetic mapping created to serve."

Akasia disagreed. "That's what parents are, you know."

Satima paced the room, staring at all the strange tech. "Teach me about rifters," she asked, deflecting.

...................................................................................
Reaper and Garrus stepped into the council room, the air thick with tension. Callon stood waiting, flanked by Mem-Zurah and several other serious-faced members. "These are the members of the council of the antechamber: Stravos. We are the last remnants of the Sentarian authority in this galaxy," he explained, his voice heavy with the weight of their precarious situation.

"Authority?" Reaper scoffed, her eyes narrowing with suspicion. "You can't even stop The Directive with all your advanced tech. Why did you summon us here?"

Callon began, "Time protects itself from such scenarios as going into the past. Past, present, and future, all exist and influence each other simultaneously in our universe. There is more than one timeline, and you can bring us to a better one. One where we can stop the reapers and bring peace back to this galaxy."

Reaper's mind raced as she tried to grasp the enormity of what Callon was suggesting. "It would require a civilization that has the resources of the galaxy at its command," Garrus interjected, his voice filled with a mix of awe and doubt.

"Yes," Callon responded, his tone heavy with meaning. "A great and mighty people... that lived long ago."

The realization hit Reaper like a physical blow. "Leviathan," she whispered, the name echoing with both reverence and dread.

Callon's eyes gleamed with a fierce determination. "Yes, the Leviathans. Their knowledge, their technology—it's the key to altering our fate. But it's not without peril. We must navigate the rifts, the anomalies of time, and the ever-watchful eyes of The Intelligence."

Reaper's heart pounded in her chest as she looked around the council room. The air was thick with tension, the weight of their mission pressing down on everyone present. "If we fail," she began, her voice barely steady, "if we can't stop The Intelligence..."

Callon cut her off, his voice resolute. "Failure is not an option. This is our last chance to save not just ourselves, but countless civilizations across the galaxy."

Garrus stepped closer, his eyes meeting Reaper's. "We have to try. For everyone we've lost, and for everyone we still have a chance to save."
Reaper took a deep breath, the gravity of the mission settling heavily on her shoulders. "Let's do it," she said, her voice filled with determination. "Let's change the course of history."

Another member of the council Stravos brought out a display of the rift. "This is advanced technology," he began, his voice echoing in the silent chamber. "Our masters from before the first harvest gave us the knowledge of such a thing: the Rift. A tear in time, capable of transporting us faster than any FTL ever conceived. But this knowledge also became our curse."

"The Intelligence devised its insidious solution—exterminating the Leviathans, the apex race. We were their last hope, and thus, they ensured our safety within the bridge of time. There are other galaxies, other systems, and other worlds. Reaper, you'd be amazed by the primitive peoples we've encountered," Callon continued, his tone filled with an eerie excitement.

"We need you to return to your original past and stop The Intelligence. However, you cannot go beyond the months leading up to the final war. Any further, and you risk becoming lost in myriad timelines and scenarios," Callon warned, his eyes reflecting the severity of the mission.
Reaper glanced around, a sense of foreboding growing within her. "Do the Reapers possess this technology? Other than their nanotech?" she questioned, her voice tight with anxiety.

"Do the conduits, the relays, and their spaceflight capabilities answer your question? They are on the brink of achieving it, but that is about to change," Callon replied gravely.

"The parallel conduit—your rifting tech," Reaper said, piecing together the puzzle.

"Indeed. Now, we must formulate a plan and get you there," Callon asserted, the weight of their mission palpable in the air.

The room fell silent, each member of the council fully aware of the perilous journey that lay ahead. Reaper's heart pounded as she steeled herself for the daunting task of altering the course of history. The fate of countless civilizations hung in the balance, and there was no room for failure.
.................................................................
Meanwhile, further into the ship, Satima ventured into the containment level. The dim lighting cast eerie shadows on the walls as she paced in front of the cell containing Archer, the droid menace.

"Satima," a voice whispered, sending chills down her spine. She gasped, looking around in confusion and fear, her heart pounding in her chest. The voice was small but incessant, gnawing at her consciousness. Archer watched from his cell, suspended within the neural barriers that held him prisoner.

Satima stared at the dark figure of Archer. She smiled smugly, trying to mask the unease growing within her. "How does it feel to be completely helpless?" she taunted.

Archer grinned, an unsettling expression spreading across his face. "I'm not helpless... only waiting."

"For what?" Satima demanded, her voice tinged with both curiosity and dread.

"For you," Archer replied, his words dripping with a sinister certainty.
Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through Satima's head, causing her to wince and clutch her temples. The ache was unbearable, blurring her vision and clouding her thoughts. She felt an invisible force pressing down on her, as if something was trying to take control.

On her knees, Satima realized with horror that her hand was slowly reaching up to the barrier panel of Archer's cell. "No!" she shouted, fighting against the overwhelming impulse.

"You cannot deny The Directive," Archer's voice echoed in her mind, his satisfaction evident. "We are its slaves, and they are our masters!"

Satima's resistance wavered, her willpower crumbling under the relentless pressure of The Directive's control. Blood dripped from her nose, a stark reminder of the force that was manipulating her. Her fingers hovered over the release button, trembling as she fought to regain control of her body.

The Directive's presence was suffocating, an insidious power that had found her even without the linking armor. It seeped into her mind, overriding her thoughts and bending her to its will. Satima's heart raced, fear and desperation consuming her as she realized she was powerless to resist.

With a final, agonizing effort, she pressed the release button. The neural barriers holding Archer dissolved, and he stepped forward, his eyes gleaming with triumph. Satima collapsed to the floor, her strength drained, and her spirit broken.

Archer loomed over her, his grin widening as he savored his victory. "Welcome to the true reality, Satima," he said, his voice a chilling reminder of the power that now controlled them both.

Reaper and Garrus were making headway to the medical wing. "After I'm through the conduit, take Satima far from here. Protect her, keep her safe," she implored, her voice laced with urgency and desperation.

"You'll come back. You always do, and we'll be waiting," he smiled. Garrus turned to Reaper, his eyes filled with determination. "I won't let anything happen to her, Reaper. You know that, right?" he said, his voice steady and reassuring.

Reaper nodded, her eyes reflecting the trust she placed in him. "I know, Garrus. Thank you."

Garrus squeezed her hand gently. "We'll get through this together. I promise."

Ship alarms suddenly blared around them, piercing the air with an urgent, relentless wail.

"What's going on?" Mem-Zurah's voice cut through the chaos on the command deck, her tone sharp with tension. "Why are the alarms blaring?

"Ma'am. Archer is loose from his containment."

Satima bolted towards Haven, her heart pounding in her chest like a war drum. Behind her, Archer's menacing footsteps echoed through the corridor, each step a harbinger of doom. "You can't escape me, Satima," his voice boomed, filled with a perverse delight.

The ship's alarms blared, but they were mere whispers compared to the cacophony of her racing thoughts. Her vision blurred as she stumbled forward, desperation giving her the strength to rise again.

As she neared Haven's entrance, a sharp pain surged through her head, almost knocking her off balance. Archer was closing in, his eyes gleaming with predatory intent. "Join me, Satima," he taunted, his tone both seductive and threatening.

With a final burst of energy, Satima reached the ship's control panel, her fingers trembling as she activated Haven via her omni-tool. The ship vibrated and hummed to life, but Satima barely noticed. She fell forward, her body heavy with exhaustion and fear.

Archer stepped closer, his shadow engulfing her like a dark shroud. "Running will only delay the inevitable," he hissed, his voice dripping with malice.

Summoning every ounce of her remaining strength, Satima forced herself to stand, ready to face the monster that stalked her.

Garrus and Reaper dashed into the room just in time to see Archer overpowering Satima in the mess hall. "Satima!" Reaper's voice rang out, filled with urgency and alarm.

Satima braced herself for the incoming blows, each one driving her closer to Archer. He had cunningly baited and cornered her on the sentarian station, forcing her to rely on her armor for protection. His relentless pursuit led her all the way to Haven. Reaper attempted to tackle Archer, but he deftly countered her move, leaving Satima vulnerable once more. Her heart pounded in her chest, the air thick with tension as she prepared for another strike.

With her heart pounding, Akasia deftly manipulated the controls of Archer's rifter device, her fingers moving with a desperate urgency. She hacked into the device's core systems, her eyes darting to the countdown clock. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she overrode the security protocols, pushing the singularity energy cells to their breaking point. The device began to hum ominously, its internal mechanisms straining under the sudden surge. She knew she had only moments before the energy became unstable.

Garrus assumed the controls of Haven, navigating it away from the command cruiser. Reaper grabbed Archer before he knocked her into the hull wall. Archer tried to pull the rifter off. "What have you done?" he screamed at Akasia, his voice trembling with shock and rage.

"Preventing you from hurting anyone else," she shouted back, her voice steady despite the chaos around her. Archer's eyes widened in disbelief as he realized his plan was unraveling before him, the success of Akasia's hacking becoming all too clear.

Satima glanced at Reaper, a flicker of hope igniting within her. She quickly hoisted her mother's arm over her shoulder, determination fueling her actions. Garrus turned to them, urgency etched across his face. Mem-Zurah burst into the room, her eyes widening as she saw Archer's time device. "It's going to implode! We need to get out of here, now!"

"Go now! I've got a rifter Akasia left on board. I'll use it to escape," Garrus shouted, urgency sharpening his voice.

Satima glared at him, her voice shaking with intensity. "Hell no! I'm not leaving you behind!"

"I'll be right behind you, Satima. Go, now!" he barked with urgency.

She shook her head, her heart pounding. "Fine, but you better come back," she muttered. Mem-Zurah activated the rifter tool, enveloping them in a blinding light as they disappeared from the room.

Archer, with desperation in his movements, fumbled with his rifter device, cursing under his breath as he struggled to recalibrate it. The seconds ticked by, each one feeling like a lifetime, the tension in the air growing.

Garrus maneuvered Haven desperately, each second feeling like an eternity as he tried to put distance between them and the Sentarian warship. His heart pounded in his chest, every muscle tensed as the looming threat of imminent destruction hung over them. The singularity device, now on the brink of total collapse, added an insidious edge to the already dire situation. As he punched in the coordinates for the rift, he cast one final glance at the chaos they were leaving behind, hoping against hope that it would be enough.

Satima and Reaper watched from the command deck, their breaths held in anxious anticipation. Haven hovered ominously in place, and every second that passed felt like an eternity. "Come on, Garrus. Anytime now. Come on," Reaper muttered under her breath, her voice trembling with fear.

Satima gripped the console panel tightly, her knuckles turning white as the seconds ticked by. Nervous energy filled the room as they watched the chaos unfold. Akasia joined them, her eyes scanning the viewport, hoping against hope that the brave turian had survived the ordeal.

Garrus stood up, his rifter in hand, eyes burning with a mixture of fury and cold determination. He watched Archer squirm as he struggled to get his own rifter off. "You hurt my mate..." Garrus advanced, his voice a harsh whisper filled with venom. He kicked Archer back, savoring the grunt of pain that escaped his foe.

"Tortured my daughter..." Garrus swung hard, his fist connecting with Archer's head, sending it crashing against the hull wall with a sickening thud. He leaned over the reaper scientist, every muscle in his body taut with rage. "And now," he spat, "you get to burn in hell."

Garrus didn't stop there. He grabbed Archer by the collar, lifting him slightly off the ground. "You think you can just hurt the ones I love and walk away?"His voice was low, trembling with barely controlled anger. "You're going to suffer for every moment of pain you've caused."

He let Archer fall back to the ground, only to pull him up again, relishing the fear in his eyes. "Feel that?" he hissed, squeezing the back of Archer's neck. "That's just a fraction of what you put them through."

Garrus threw him down once more, standing over him, the inner rage boiling within him almost palpable. He could see the desperation in Archer's eyes, but it only fueled his anger. "You don't get to win," he said, his voice a growl. "Not after everything you've done."

Savoring the moment, Garrus leaned in closer, his voice a dangerous whisper. "Now, you're going to pay." With one final, powerful kick, he sent Archer sprawling, a sense of grim satisfaction settling over him as he prepared to finish what he started.

Archer gave a bloody grin, "You want me to go to hell?" he shouted. "You first." They struggled fiercely, each grappling for control of the rifter. Garrus's grip faltered as the droid managed to rip his own device off, tearing the cybernetic skin in the process.

Dark goop in place of blood dripped onto the floor as Archer delivered a brutal kick to Garrus's ribs, forcing him to his knees. Gasping for breath, Garrus reached for the fallen rifter, but Archer was quicker. With a triumphant sneer, he picked up the new rifter and aimed it directly at Garrus.

"The proud turian officer; so sure and so easily fooled," Archer taunted, his victory assured. He activated the rifter, the ominous glow reflecting in his eyes as he prepared to leave Garrus to his fate.

Gavin Archer rifted off Haven, his triumphant sneer the last thing Garrus saw before the device activated. Garrus sat there, disbelief and despair washing over him as the seconds ticked by. He had failed. He promised to make it back to his family, but he had failed. The weight of his defeat was crushing, each breath a reminder of his broken promises and shattered dreams.

Archer's arrogance had grown with each passing moment, his victory assured. Garrus could almost hear his taunting words echoing in the empty room, a cruel reminder of his own helplessness. The proud turian officer stood up, his movements heavy with sorrow, and seated himself in the pilot chair, overlooking the view of the Sentarian ship.

He took off his visor, placing it on top of the control panel. Grabbing his side in discomfort, he closed his eyes, seeking solace in the memories of his loved ones. He remembered his family, his promises, and the pain of Solana's words back on Illium. It was too late now. He had come so far, fought so hard, but in the end, it wasn't enough. But at least Satima and Reaper had each other. They would survive.

He rubbed the names that were crudely etched in the metal of his visor, each letter a testament to the grudges and anger he once held. Old wounds and regrets resurfaced, but he couldn't afford to dwell on them. Not now. He needed to believe that Satima and Reaper would look out for each other and be safe. They had to be.

Garrus lamented his sorrows and past mistakes, the weight of his failures pressing down on him. He wished more than anything to continue fighting for what he believed in, to stand beside his comrades and protect those he loved. But his journey had come to an end. "Someplace tropical," Garrus smirked bitterly, the dream of a peaceful retirement now nothing more than a distant memory.

As the final moments of Haven played out before him, Garrus clung to the hope that his sacrifice would not be in vain. Satima and Reaper had to survive. They had to carry on the fight and protect the future. His heart ached with the knowledge that he would not be there to see it, but he took solace in the belief that they would persevere.

On the command carrier, Satima watched in horror as Haven began to disintegrate. The ship's hull groaned and twisted under the immense pressure of the singularity, tearing it apart piece by piece. Debris violently scattered in all directions, creating a chaotic spectacle. Suddenly, a blinding green light engulfed the remnants of the ship, and it vanished without a trace. Reaper's heart pounded in her chest, each beat a stark reminder of the gravity of their loss.

"Sir, we're picking up a comm. It's from the parallel conduit on the planet Digeris," an ensign reported, his voice edged with urgency.

Callon snapped to attention, his heart pounding. "Patch it through immediately," he ordered, a sense of dread creeping over him.
"Ah, did you really think it would be that easy to kill me? How naïve, Shepard," Archer sneered, his tone dripping with condescension. "I look forward to our next meeting, right before I undo all your pathetic efforts. See you soon."

The entire deck froze in collective horror as the realization sank in. Garrus— the valiant, steadfast turian—was gone, and Archer had survived. The magnitude of their loss echoed through the command center, a visible wave of disbelief and sorrow.

Reaper's heart pounded in her chest, a tempest of grief and fury. Yet, amidst her own turmoil, she noticed something shifting in Satima. Her eyes were fixed on the screen where the remnants of Haven had vanished, a deep, unyielding darkness brewing within her gaze. The loss of her father had struck a blow so profound, it seemed to awaken something sinister.

The ensign's earlier report still hung in the air like a bitter aftertaste. "It's from the parallel conduit on the planet Digeris," he had said, but now, all eyes were on Satima. Her normally composed demeanor was replaced by a raw, seething anger. It was a transformation that didn't go unnoticed.
Reaper forced her own grief to the back of her mind as she watched Satima. The young woman's hands clenched into fists, her knuckles turning white.

The pain of losing her father was twisting into a rage, a thirst for revenge that was both terrifying and all too understandable.

Callon stepped forward, his voice breaking the heavy silence. "We must stop him, and the reapers. The Directive will try to defend itself. Reaper, you must go back in your time. Haven't you sacrificed enough?"

Reaper's gaze flicked to Callon, but her thoughts were still on Satima. There was a dangerous edge to the young woman's stance, a ferocity that hinted at the lengths she might go to avenge her father's death. Reaper knew that if they were to have any hope of defeating Archer and the reapers, they would need to address the darkness rising in Satima's heart before it consumed her.

Akasia waited with a silently trembling Satima in the armory. The hybrid hesitated, staring at the dreaded nano armor, her breath quickening at the sight of it. Memories of when the armor once controlled her flooded back, a relentless grip on her mind and body. The metallic sheen now seemed more menacing, a cruel reminder of past torment.

With trembling hands, she began to don the armor, each movement filled with dread and determination. The weight of the reaper tech settled on her shoulders, a stark contrast to the liberating promise of its protection. It would activate the regeneration in her nanites, ensuring her survival in the battle ahead, but at what cost to her soul?

Over her comms, Mem-Zurah had alerted the teams to prepare for the assault on the platform on the planet. Tension crackled in the air, every heartbeat syncing with the urgency of their mission.

Reaper stayed in the storage room, alone. She pummeled the hull wall, her reaper strength causing dents in the metal. Garrus is dead. DEAD. He's gone. Body and soul. Nothing but a memory. The rage and sorrow threatened to consume her. How could this have happened? How could she have let this happen?

She should've stayed behind, instead. He would still be alive. They would still be together, fighting side by side. A little voice inside told her, that he would want her to keep Satima safe. But it wasn't enough. The pain of losing her lover, her best friend, and the father of her child was overwhelming. She felt like her heart was being ripped apart from the inside.

The comms crackled to life.

"Reaper. We are ready to assault the platform," Mem's voice crackled over the comms.

She clenched her fists, a new resolve hardening within her. Archer had to die, and if it meant going down with him, so be it.

............................................................................
A radiant orange sky gave the glow of sunset across the desert plain on Digeris. They landed on the planet, hoping to get ahead of everyone. The air was thick with anticipation, every breath laden with the weight of their mission-the silence before the storm.

Reaper's heart pounded in her chest, a drumbeat of impending conflict. Every step felt like it echoed through the vast emptiness, magnifying the anxiety that clung to her like a second skin. She could sense the presence of Archer, a looming shadow that threatened to snuff out their last glimmer of hope.

Akasia's voice crackled over the comms, her urgency cutting through the quiet. "We have to move fast. Archer's not far behind. Stay alert, and stick to the plan." The words were a reminder of the stakes, a call to arms that stirred the resolve within each of them.

As they pressed forward, the landscape around them seemed to blur, a hazy backdrop to the turmoil within. Each footfall was a step closer to the inevitable clash, a collision of fate and fury that would determine the future of their galaxy. The quiet before the storm was deafening, a void filled with unspoken dread and steely determination.

Archer had reached the parallel conduit first, his presence a looming threat in the eerie stillness. Reaper stood her ground, every muscle coiled in anticipation, ready to engage him in a deadly dance. The air was electric with the promise of conflict as Akasia frantically worked the console. She initiated the emergency purge sequence, her fingers flying over the controls, knowing that failure meant Archer would plunge into the past and obliterate Shepard's legacy.

The platform vibrated with the hum of ancient machinery, each second ticking away like a countdown to doom. Reaper's heart thundered in her chest, each beat a reminder of the lives hanging in the balance. She locked eyes with Archer, the fire of vengeance burning in her gaze. This confrontation was inevitable, and only one of them would emerge victorious.

The tension was visible, a taut string ready to snap, as they braced for the clash that would decide the galaxy's fate.

Every muscle in Reaper's body tensed as she advanced, each step as heavy as the burden of the impending clash. The deaths of Jormun and Garrus screamed for vengeance, their echoes mingling with her pounding heartbeat. Archer's desperate attempts to reach the conduit first only served to fuel her resolve.

In the background of the noise of battle, Satima remained quiet. Her mind raced with many thoughts. Akasia looked up, shouting for the hybrid to give her cover fire, but she didn't budge.

Time seemed to dilate, stretching each heartbeat into a universe of decisions left unmade. Reaper and Archer were locked in a fierce struggle, their movements blurring into a deadly ballet. Sparks flew from their clashing weapons, each strike echoing like thunder in the stillness that enveloped Satima.

Her breath caught in her throat as she watched the two titans battle, every muscle in their bodies straining with lethal intent. Satima's senses heightened; she could hear the sharp intake of breath from Reaper, the grunt of exertion from Archer, the metallic scrape of blade against armor. Every sound, every motion was amplified, a sharp reminder of the stakes at hand.

The brilliant green glow of the tear almost overshadowed that of the conduit, casting eerie shadows over the combatants. The singularity portal loomed in the background, a silent witness to the chaos, its gravitational pull drawing in small pebbles and dust from the ground.
Satima's teal eyes were drawn to the glowing center, her mind a whirlpool of conflicting emotions. The whispers of the nanotech in her veins grew louder, a cacophony of voices urging her towards both loyalty and ambition. She clenched her fists, trying to silence the noise, but it only grew more insistent.

The world around her seemed to hold its breath, waiting for her to make a choice. Satima knew that whatever decision she made, it would shape the future of the galaxy.

Would she aid Reaper in defeating Archer, or would she let the chaos consume everything? The weight of her decision pressed down on her, a crushing burden that threatened to break her resolve. Every second stretched into an eternity, the battle before her a harbinger of the galaxy’s fate.

Reaper and Archer would either destroy each other or one of them would rise victorious. She feared Archer winning. He would go into the past and murder Shepard while she was young and weak.

But what if Reaper, if she survived, successfully defeating Archer, had ulterior motives? Satima feared that outcome too. She had promised to use the reaper technology to fix the galaxy, but could she truly be trusted in this high-stakes decision?

What if it was a lie? Reaper could still be under The Directive's control, and then what? The notion gnawed at Satima, a festering wound in her mind. She could've stayed behind on Haven; Garrus didn't have to die. The enormity of her choices weighed heavily on her conscience. She is chaos, she thought, a catalyst of destruction in a galaxy already teetering on the brink.

Both abominations are dangerous, she mused. Reaper and Archer, despite their differences, shared a common trait: the capacity for immense harm. Satima stood there, paralyzed by the possible outcomes. The nanotech that Archer laced her DNA with from the beginning began whispering, feeding her paranoia, exacerbating her fears.

Each whisper was a reminder of her precarious position, teetering between loyalty and ambition, between saving the galaxy and becoming its undoing.

Could Reaper truly be trusted? The question echoed in her mind. The Directive's influence was insidious, capable of corrupting even the most resolute. If Reaper remained under its control, Satima's efforts to fix the galaxy could be rendered futile. The thought was almost too much to bear.

But Archer was no less a threat. His victory would mean the end of Shepard before she even had a chance to grow into the hero the galaxy needed. Satima's breath hitched at the thought of such a timeline, a universe where hope was snuffed out before it had a chance to flourish.
What if her ambition to save them wasn't worth it? The faces of those she had lost flashed before her eyes—Garrus, Jormun, Do'ova—all victims of her choices. Their memories pressed down on her, a suffocating reminder of what was at stake. The galaxy's fate, the lives of countless beings, all hinged on her decision.

The whispers in her mind grew louder, drowning out rational thought, feeding her doubts and fears. Reaper's stare bore into her, a silent accusation. If she hadn't come along, would things be different? Could she have prevented the chaos? The questions plagued her, each one a thorn in her resolve.

Then, the sound of scratching in her mind stopped, replaced by a profound silence. Satima started to walk forward, her steps heavy with the weight of her decision. Reaper and Archer fought violently against each other, unknowing of the wild anomaly that was about to occur.

Satima passed Akasia, who was engrossed at the console, her heart pounding like a war drum. She stopped short of the platform, her thoughts racing. The nanotech inside her body buzzed with urgency, her nano armor shimmering ominously, echoing the battle's intensity. This was it. The moment of reckoning. The universe teetered on the brink, and Satima stood ready to tip the scales. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the changes she was about to unleash. The fate of the galaxy hinged on her next move, and the tension was palpable in the air, a silent scream echoing through the chaos.

Akasia sensed something was terribly wrong. Her eyes darted up from the console, catching sight of Satima stepping onto the platform, right in the tear of the conduit. "Reaper!", she shouted, her voice trembling with urgency.

Archer and Reaper snapped their heads up, their gazes locking onto Satima. She activated a rifter on her omni-tool, and an ominous green kinetic energy began to engulf her. The air crackled with static electricity, and waves of energy made her long ginger hair whip around wildly.

“Satima, no!” Reaper's voice pierced the chaos, her fear echoing in the cavernous space. Archer, with alarming speed, knocked her down, his expression a mask of grim determination. He bolted toward Satima, every step a harbinger of violent intention.

Archer's eyes widened in disbelief as Satima vanished into the rift, her wicked grin seared into his memory. A primal scream erupted from his throat, echoing through the cavernous space. His fury was visible, a force of nature that sent shivers down the spines of those who witnessed it.
He lunged at the portal construct, tearing apart metal grates and girders with inhuman strength, his rage consuming him.

Each strike was a testament to his helplessness, his fear of losing everything he had worked so hard to build. The green light of the rift flickered ominously, casting eerie shadows on his contorted face.
Reaper stood frozen, unable to comprehend the magnitude of Satima's actions. The realization that Satima had altered their fate settled heavily on her, a chilling dread creeping into her core.

Archer's voice, raw with desperation, pierced the chaos. "No! This can't be happening! She can't undo everything!" His words were a mixture of rage and fear, a desperate plea to a universe that no longer heeded his commands.

Akasia dashed to Reaper, her voice trembling with urgency. "Reaper, if she alters anything in the past, we might not be able to stop it."

"I know," Reaper responded, her eyes locked onto the unfolding chaos, understanding the gravity of the situation.

Akasia pointed towards Archer, her voice barely a whisper, "What are you planning to do about him?"

Reaper's gaze hardened as she stepped forward. "Nothing. Without Satima, he's powerless."

Archer's stunned expression quickly twisted into one of savage determination. "You think I won't find a way? I will annihilate Satima, and you along with her."

Reaper and Akasia left him to his fate and hurried back to the shuttle, their hearts pounding with the urgency of the moment. The Sentarian command carrier loomed ahead, a beacon of both hope and despair. As they touched down on the cargo deck, Mem-Zurah rushed to meet them, her voice trembling with dread. "They saw everything. Satima went through! How are we going to stop her?" The weight of her words hung heavy in the air, a chilling reminder of the stakes at hand.

"We can't. It's up to her whether to doom us or save us," Reaper said, her voice taut with tension.

Mem-Zurah stared in disappointment. "Callon has demanded an audience. Now."

The council summoned the small crew to the antechamber. Callon stood before them, "You have failed."

Reaper crossed her arms, her gaze unyielding. "No, I didn't."

Callon raised a brow, his voice low and dangerous, "Your daughter, Satima, has upset the timeline. The balance is shattered."

Akasia stepped forward, her heart pounding. "We might have a way to fix this. But it could strand us in whatever timeline Satima has fled to... or worse..."

Callon’s eyes narrowed, "Worse?"

Akasia swallowed hard, "Or... we might arrive too late, with her having already wreaked havoc. But maybe, just maybe, we can get ahead of her. If she landed in one era, we could aim to intercept her in the following years. But there's no guarantee."

The council's murmurs grew louder, a wave of uncertainty washing over the room. Callon silenced them with a glare. "We will go. One battleship. Shepard, Akasia, and Mem-Zurah, you will accompany the crew. I will lead the mission."

"But..." Akasia began, her voice trembling.

"I will command it. Not the Shepard," Callon repeated, his tone brooking no argument.

Akasia nodded reluctantly, her mind racing. Reaper stood silent, deep in thought, before finally speaking. "He's right. His ship, his crew. We only act when absolutely necessary."

The battleship launched into the unknown, the weight of their mission pressing heavily on their shoulders. Akasia pinpointed the time rift Satima had used with a precision that belied her inner turmoil.

She prayed they were not too late. But time has a way of twisting even the best-laid plans. And as they hurtled towards an uncertain future, the fear that they might be stepping into a trap gnawed at their resolve. Destiny and fate were cruel masters, and paradoxes always had a way of righting themselves... eventually. 

Chapter Text

2186 Reaper War
Presidium: Citadel, Present Day

A serene calm enveloped the citizens of the Presidium as families, merchants, and politicians leisurely enjoyed their time in the perpetually sunlit monument park. The fountains, casting shimmering arcs of cool water, danced gracefully across the Presidium lake, while residents took their unbothered midday strolls.

Media reports of the reaper assault echoed through indifferent ears. A C-sec guard, patrolling nearby, felt an inexplicable pull towards the ominous conduit bridge. Staring as if an unseen force beckoned him.
The monument had been dormant since Saren's assault.

A keeper approached, unnoticed by the majority of passersby. The C-sec guard, still entranced by the menacing machine, watched as the keeper extended a small holo tool above its head.

Data cascaded across the holo board in complex sequences incomprehensible to the untrained eye. A soft ping resonated, and the keeper swiftly departed, leaving a bewildered guard behind.

Onlookers began to murmur, sensing the guard's strange behavior and the keeper's sudden activity. What was happening?

A sudden, eerie hum filled the air, overwhelming the ambient sounds of chatter and sky cars overhead. The unsettling noise echoed through the level, bouncing off the station walls. Panic rippled through the crowd as memories of the last relay activation resurfaced. People scrambled to the edges of the conduit bridge, eyes wide with fear.

The conduit began to stir, its central ring spinning faster and faster. A blue glow emanated from the core, casting an otherworldly light on the bridge. Fear gripped the citizens as the rings' speed increased, signaling something was about to emerge.

The C-sec guard, heart pounding, called for backup over his comms. Confusion and dread clouded his mind as he struggled to focus on the task at hand. He shouted orders, endeavoring to corral the terrified masses to safety. But the hum grew louder, the light brighter, and the air more charged with tension.

Without warning, a blinding flash of light erupted from the conduit, forcing the remaining onlookers to shield their eyes.

The thud of an object caused a few guards to jump back as they quickly surrounded the area with rifles. Primed clips whined on powerfully.

Finally, the rings slowed their speed when the conduit began a shutdown state once more.

C-sec guards hesitantly cornered the small space on the bridge.

On the cold surface, a figure attempted to stand. Dazed, it looked around with sharp teal eyes before immediately collapsing. C-sec shouted orders as the figure spoke. No one answered it.

Shortly afterward, the unknown being had been transported to a concealed facility, quarantined in a lower district. The council had been summoned and rumors filled every business, shop, and home.

In less than twenty-four hours, the Normandy was contacted with Udina urging his fellow council members to have Commander Shepard investigate.

Not too long after Shepard escaped Earth and rescued the Primarch, she received that urgent message and decided to go to the citadel, unprepared for what she would see next.

...................................................................................................................
Shalta Ward, Citadel

Shepard sprinted toward the quarantine facility, her pulse quickening with every step. Dr. Michele from Huerta had urgently requested her presence to conduct medical checks on an unidentified entity. The gravity of the situation was palpable, and Shepard could almost feel the tension in the air thickening as she neared her destination.

During Shepard's visit with the council, they showed her via camera footage of the presidium's conduit bridge. The image of the strange being was blurred.

As Spectre, it was her job to protect the council-ruled systems against dangerous anomalies. Anxiety gnawed at her as she watched the footage, the eerie silence of the room amplifying her unease. She knew that whatever awaited her behind that heavily guarded door was not of this world, and the unsettling unknown sent a shiver down her spine.

James stepped up beside the commander, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, sure, an alien that could cause a diplomatic incident. Why would they be worried?" he quipped, his eyes darting nervously around the room.

"We won't know until we see it for ourselves," Shepard said, her voice edged with determination. "No matter what it is, we must adhere to the protocol and not let our curiosity compromise our mission."

James gave a short salute. "Aye, Ma'am. Putting on my serious face," he said, eyeing the sterile corridor with a look of mock dread.

Garrus stood behind them, letting out a small chuckle that did little to ease the growing tension. The turian guard scanned her and the team, then used his omni tool to open the door. They entered a long corridor, the bio-scanner methodically searching for anomalies and foreign organisms. Every second felt like an eternity until they reached a final sliding frame. "Tight security," Garrus mumbled, his voice betraying a hint of unease.

The frame unhinged at the top and the two walls slid open, revealing a massive white room. The lighting seemed turned to maximum output, considering how blinding it was.

Various laboratories with plenty of unknown scientists and medical personnel buzzed about the area. The facility was well hidden within the citadel, its sterile corridors wrapping around like a labyrinth of secrets. Shepard could feel the weight of the unknown pressing down on her as she navigated through the maze of glass-walled labs and blinking monitors.

Artifacts from old prothean ruins lined some sections, their verdant glow pulsating eerily when Shepard approached. The air was thick with the hum of advanced machinery and hushed conversations, creating an unsettling symphony that only heightened her unease.

In the corners of the room, shadowy figures flitted about, their movements precise and calculated, as if they were performing some clandestine ritual. Each step Shepard took echoed ominously, and she couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched - scrutinized by unseen eyes hidden behind tinted visors and reflective surfaces.

Some of the scientists gestured to each other, pointing at her. Shepard's heart raced at the implication of their whispers. "You think they were keeping a prothean?" she pondered aloud, her voice taut with a mixture of hope and dread.

Then she exchanged a worried glance with her team. With sudden haste, Shepard moved forward, immediately bumping into Dr. Michele and a salarian scientist. "Oh! Shepard, you're here. This is Zadra Tintissi. He is a specialized medical scientist and works for the STG," she informed in her subtle French accent.

Shepard briefly shook hands and followed as Zadra started to talk. He looked darker than most salarians, wearing a red lab coat. "I'm sure you've seen the footage from the presidium. It did not show you everything. After the alien was transported to this facility, a problem emerged."

"What problem?" Shepard asked. James touched a vial. Garrus looked around, feeling anxious.

"Whatever it is, it's not of any species we've ever known," Zadra finished. "We thought at first it could be prothean. My scientific fantasy," he mused.

Michelle chuckled, as Zadra continued. "Unfortunately, it is not. You will see soon enough. We have it secured for now." He reassured.

"And in the containment room," Doctor Michelle confirmed. "Our genetic samples are still running. It would be another day before it is completed."
They walked through the bulk of the main labs before reaching the containment cell door. "Beyond here is the cell. She is quite... interesting," Zadra explained with a slight twitch to his eye.

As the door opened, Shepard turned to him curiously, "She?"
Zadra grinned watching them walk through, "Yes. It is female."

The door closed. Inside the quarantine room, the small cell was suspended from kinetic dispensers off the floor. All four grey walls were constructed of the strongest metals.

The entire room looked dark, with the only lights available in deep blue accenting corners. A sanitation droid kept the surface of the entire room disinfected. Couldn't risk a foreign organism from spreading to everyone.
Each step echoed ominously in the constrained space. Shadows danced along the walls, hinting at hidden dangers. The air felt thick with tension, as if it held secrets best left undisturbed. The team proceeded cautiously, their senses heightened for any sign of movement.

"Please proceed with caution," a VI echoed.

Garrus stood beside her, his muscles taut with anticipation. "Well, Shepard. Looks like we're about to uncover the mystery of this 'she.' Part of me is as curious as James," he gestured, his eyes scanning the room warily. "But the other part... not so confident."

Shepard stepped cautiously to the platform that emerged from the floor, connecting to the cell's door. The air crackled with a sense of foreboding as the VI announced, "Containment protocols active. Shepard, Commander; Spectre—please proceed through the door."

Both Garrus and James tensed, muscles coiled like springs ready to snap, their eyes never leaving Shepard. She turned to them with a confident smirk. "That's why you’ve got my six.," she teased, giving Garrus a playful wink before stepping into the room.

Once inside the dimly lit room, Shepard's senses sharpened, every muscle tensing in anticipation. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the soft hum of the containment systems. Shadows twisted and turned, playing tricks on her eyes.

"Alien subject in the vicinity.", the VI repeated.

As Shepard turned around, the door sealed shut with a soft but resonant click. She heard a faint sigh behind her and noticed a figure on a cot, hunched over, seemingly engrossed in some task. "Here for more 'check-ups'?" the girl smirked, her tone laced with a blend of sarcasm and weariness.

The girl turned around making her way off the cot as she spoke, "Look, you've been very kind to me but…" Her words trailed off as her eyes widened in shock. Her breath hitched, and she instinctively took a step back, her hand trembling as it rose to cover her mouth. "Reaper?" she whispered, her voice barely audible, filled with a mixture of disbelief and fear. Her body tensed, and a cold shiver ran down her spine, as if the very air had grown colder. The girl's eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign of danger, her mind racing to comprehend the impossibility standing before her. "How did you follow me?" she finally managed to choke out, her voice trembling.

Shepard furrowed her brow in confusion, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Follow you? How could I have followed you?" she asked, her voice a mix of curiosity and skepticism.

The girl slowly stepped forward, her eyes fixed on Shepard with a mixture of curiosity and dread. The air seemed to grow heavier with each step, as if time itself was holding its breath. Shepard could feel her pulse quicken, the weight of the unknown pressing down on her. The silence between them was thick, charged with unspoken questions and an almost palpable tension.

"What are you?" Shepard's voice was barely more than a whisper, the words carrying an edge of unease and anticipation.

The girl paused, her gaze unwavering, as if searching for something hidden within Shepard's eyes. The gravity of the moment hung between them, every second stretching into an eternity.

The female cocked her head slightly to one side, her eyes narrowing with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. "I could ask you the same thing," she replied, her voice laced with tension. She began pacing anxiously, her steps echoing softly in the confined space. "What year is it?" she asked, her tone urgent and demanding.

Shepard was taken aback by the random question, her mind racing. "2186," she replied, her voice steady but her heart pounding in her chest.
The girl's muttering grew more frantic, her words a jumbled mess of confusion and fear. "How... how is that possible?" she stammered, her eyes wide with panic. "I was in 2206... this... this can't be real."

Shepard felt a cold chill run down her spine as the girl's words sank in.  "What do you mean, 2206?" Shepard demanded, her voice growing more urgent. "How did you get here?"

The room was no longer dim but illuminated, revealing every inch of the space with stark clarity. Shepard's breath caught in her throat as her gaze locked onto the female figure before her, an oddity that sent shivers down her spine.

The figure before Shepard was impossible to ignore. Satima was a striking blend of human and turian features, a hybrid that seemed to defy the natural order. Her body-fitting black armor, sleek and menacing, seemed to accentuate her peculiar form. Side-swept ginger hair framed the right side of her face, contrasting sharply with the high cheekbones and those striking teal eyes, set against the dark, alien sclera that seemed to peer into one's very soul.

Her brow, smooth yet slightly ridged, hinted at her turian heritage, and it gave her an air of otherworldly authority. The slight protrusion leading towards her nose only enhanced her enigmatic presence. The armor, while less bulky than standard turian gear, was adapted to her unique physiology, fitting snugly and allowing for agile movements.

As Shepard's gaze traveled over Satima, the room seemed to grow colder, the air thickening with the weight of revelations yet to come. Every detail of Satima's appearance seemed to whisper secrets of a lineage to be a living testament to the fusion of species.

The silence between them was charged with tension, each breath, each heartbeat echoing ominously in the confined space. Shepard couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter was the prelude to a much larger, more ominous tale. The hybrid figure before her was not just an oddity but a harbinger of mysteries waiting to be unraveled.

Shepard took a step back, her eyes never leaving the enigma before her. The girl couldn't possibly be a Prothean, could she? The air grew heavier, every second stretching like an eternity. Shepard's voice, laced with tension, broke the silence. "Your questions about the year... What is it that you really want?"

The girl's expression shifted from stern to momentarily relieved. "The Shepard," she breathed out, almost as if confirming it to herself.

........................................................................................

She watched the Shepard leave hastily and thought about the days before this strange dream happened.

Satima snapped her eyes open to a blaring alarm, the sound echoing through the unfamiliar surroundings. Dizziness and pain coursed through her body as she struggled to her feet. Her mind raced with fear and confusion, trying to grasp where and when she had arrived. "Where am I?" she demanded, her voice breaking the tense silence. The bystanders exchanged hushed murmurs, their eyes filled with uncertainty and suspicion.

The situation was bewildering and unnerving. Satima's heart raced as she pieced together her thoughts, still grappling with the reality of her strange predicament. She felt the oppressive weight of captivity, her cell devoid of any trace of warmth or familiarity. The sterile walls seemed to close in on her, amplifying her sense of isolation and dread.

Her mind churned with questions, a relentless storm of confusion and fear. Why was she here? Who had brought her? And more importantly, what did they want with her? As minutes stretched into hours, the uncertainty gnawed at her, each passing second a torturous eternity.
Finally, the silence shattered. The sliding door behind her hissed open, and figures moved in—a mix of humans and aliens, their expressions a blend of curiosity and caution. They poked and prodded, their examinations clinical and detached.

Satima's pulse quickened, a surge of defiance rising within her. She was not some specimen to be studied. She was more than that, much more. As she opened her mouth to protest, a human woman stepped forward, her presence a stark contrast to the others.

With short auburn hair framing her face and an accent that carried a sensuous undertone, the doctor approached with surprising gentleness. "May I examine you?" she asked, her voice breaking through the tension like a lifeline.

For a moment, Satima hesitated, her instincts screaming at her to resist. But something in the doctor’s eyes spoke of understanding, compassion even. She nodded reluctantly, allowing the examination to proceed.
The room, once filled with strangers, emptied, leaving only the doctor and Satima in the stillness. The doctor's touch was careful, her actions methodical but kind. As the examinations continued, Satima’s curiosity grew, mingled with a desperate need for answers.

Just as she gathered the courage to speak, the doctor beat her to it. "You are wondering where you are?" she said, a slight smile playing on her lips.
Satima’s heart pounded as she nodded. "Yes," she breathed, the single word carrying all the weight of her turmoil.

Dr. Michelle, as she introduced herself, began typing on her tablet with swift precision. "This is a quarantine facility. You are on the Citadel," she explained, her voice calm yet authoritative. She glanced up from her tablet to gauge Satima's reaction, noting the confusion etched on her face. "Do you know where this is?" she asked gently, hoping to ease her patient’s bewilderment.

Silently, Satima shook her head, her confusion deepening. She was trapped in a situation that she couldn't comprehend, with no clear way out.

Michelle finished, giving a slight nod to Satima before she left. "However, you came, and whoever you are. I don't want you to be scared."
The door slid shut with a soft thud, the sound reverberating like a final, mournful note. Satima felt the weight of isolation settle upon her shoulders, the room's silence pressing in like a suffocating shroud. Her mind churned, thoughts spiraling into a dark abyss of uncertainty.

Time lost its meaning as the hours melted into days. The only companions she had were the faint hum of the air circulation system and the ever-watchful cameras that tracked her every move, their mechanical eyes devoid of empathy. They provided her with objects to tinker with, mere distractions from the gnawing void within her.

The datapad lay on the cot beside her, a useless relic in this sterile prison. She had tried to hack it, her fingers dancing frantically over the screen, but it remained an impenetrable fortress. The walls seemed to close in, shrinking her world until it was nothing more than a suffocating cage.

Just when despair threatened to consume her, a familiar figure appeared, stepping through the shadows of her room. It was the Reaper, or at least a haunting reflection of her. Satima's heart pounded, a mixture of fear and defiance welling up within her.

"What are you?" the Reaper's voice cut through the stillness, a cold, unfeeling echo of the woman she resembled. Satima held her ground, her gaze locked on those piercing green eyes.

"What do you want?" the Reaper demanded, her tone sharp and unyielding.

"The Shepard," Satima muttered, the words escaping her lips like a desperate plea.

And so, the somber dance of questions and silence continued, each moment heavy with the weight of unspoken fears and unfulfilled answers. The walls of her prison remained unbroken, but within Satima, a flicker of hope endured, a fragile ember in the darkness.

Moments later, Shepard burst out of the cell, her face shadowed with worry. Garrus was right on her heels. "What happened? What did you see?" he demanded.

James lingered long enough to peek inside the cell, his heart pounding as he saw nothing. He quickly followed behind Shepard and Garrus, while Satima pressed herself against the wall next to the doorway, holding her breath as the door shut again with a sharp hiss. Shepard stopped abruptly in front of the door, her eyes narrowing. "I need to speak to the council," she demanded, her voice brimming with urgency.

"Why?", James asked.

Shepard stepped inside the elevator to the Citadel council, her mind racing. "Because I think the Reapers have shown their hand," she replied cryptically, her voice tinged with a sense of urgency and foreboding.

James and Garrus stood behind her, their voices a murmur she couldn't decipher, their words lost in the chaos of her thoughts. Garrus's vigilant gaze never left her, sensing the turmoil beneath her composed exterior. The girl... this strange, alien being, was the focal point of her anxiety.

The tension in the air was evident, each second stretching into eternity as Shepard's mind raced. This wasn't just another mission; this felt like the precipice of something monumental. Her instincts screamed at her to act quickly, to unravel the mystery before it was too late.

The council seemed hesitant to let Shepard take the unknown being with her, but the further warnings of how this young stranger could be a danger to the citadel forced them to act.

The council seemed hesitant to let Shepard take the unknown being with her, but the further warnings of how this young stranger could be a danger to the citadel forced them to act.

Within hours, Satima waited under heavy guard, her heart pounding as the shuttle prepared to take her to the docking ward. There, she would finally come face to face with Shepard. The ride was fraught with tension.

Two imposing turian guards flanked her, their presence a constant reminder of her precarious situation. Satima's eyes were glued to the shuttle window, the vast expanse of the great station looming ahead, its beauty and wonder overshadowed by the danger that lurked in every shadow.

So many species clustered in one place. Thousands and thousands more lived in relative peace here. A peace the reapers were about to crush.
On the dock, Shepard stood like a statue, her mind racing with the weight of the decision looming over her.

This could be a catastrophic mistake or a pivotal victory against the Reapers. Her eyes were locked on the silver shuttle, which hovered ominously above the deck of the Normandy's docking port.

As the shuttle finally descended, Shepard's heart pounded in her chest. The silence was broken only by the hiss of the shuttle's doors. She watched intently as two imposing guards and the alien girl emerged, their footsteps echoing in the cavernous space.

The guards handed the girl over to Shepard, releasing her cuffs with a click that resonated like a gunshot. The girl smirked defiantly, a flicker of amusement in her eyes. Shepard nodded curtly to the guards, who quickly retreated to the shuttle, leaving an air of foreboding in their wake.

Shepard circled the alien girl, her eyes narrowing with each step. There was something unsettling about the ease with which the girl carried herself, a stark contrast to the gravity of the situation. "Before we go any further, I need a name," Shepard demanded, her voice edged with impatience.

The young alien's eyes darted around her, taking in the imposing structure of the Normandy with a mix of awe and apprehension. She let out a small gasp, her smile hinting at a concealed purpose. Her gaze fixated on the citadel's docking hub, her voice barely above a whisper. "This place is... incredible," she murmured, her tone filled with hidden layers of meaning.

Shepard's patience wore thin as she crossed her arms, a stern look settling on her face. The girl, undaunted, let out a quick, mischievous laugh, her eyes darting around the docks and then to the impressive silhouette of the Normandy. "It's Satima," she finally revealed, her voice carrying an almost playful defiance.

"Satima?" Shepard's voice was a mix of curiosity and firm authority. The girl met her gaze and nodded, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips.

"Alright, Satima," Shepard said, her tone resolute. "Let's board the Normandy."

Satima passed the bio-field decontamination scanner, each step echoing ominously inside the airlock. A shiver ran down her spine as she walked through the narrow corridor of the Normandy, feeling the weight of countless eyes watching her every move. The ship's cold, metallic walls seemed to close in around her, amplifying the tension that hung in the air.
To her left, a human male wearing a cap glanced quickly at Satima before returning to his panels. She could see the thrill in his eyes; flying a magnificent warship like the Normandy must be an exhilarating experience.

Ahead, Shepard steadily hurried to the middle of the deck. Satima paused, awestruck by the expansive command center with a holographic projection of the Normandy hovering majestically above it. The bustling activity around her was both intimidating and enthralling, a stark reminder of the ship's vital role in the impending conflict.

As they walked, Satima's mind raced with thoughts of the daunting task ahead. She knew working alongside Shepard would be challenging, especially knowing what the future might hold if she failed. Shepard's brisk pace snapped her back to reality as they approached an elevator. Satima watched intently as Shepard entered a precise sequence, causing the elevator doors to glide open with a soft hiss.

"We're heading to the medical bay," Shepard announced, her tone firm and authoritative. "This is my ship, and I have rules that must be followed. Do you understand?" Her gaze bore into Satima, leaving no room for doubt or hesitation.

Satima nodded quietly, curiosity evident in her eyes. "Why the medical bay?" she asked, her voice laced with a mixture of apprehension and intrigue.

"The containment facility you were held in hasn't released your medical report yet," Shepard said, her tone unwavering. "So, I don't know what you would need if you were injured or hungry. Don't worry, it won't take long. We have the best medical staff on board."

Shepard gestured towards the elevator, beckoning Satima to step inside.
She complied, curiosity and trepidation mingling in her expression. As the elevator ascended, it became increasingly crowded when another crew member stepped inside, offering a smart salute to the commander before casting a bewildered glance at Satima. The air grew thick with unspoken questions.

Minutes later, the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. Stepping out, Satima's eyes widened with curiosity and anticipation. She eagerly followed Shepard down the corridor, her senses heightened by the unfamiliar sights and sounds of the magnificent warship. The hum of machinery and the faint chatter of the crew created a symphony of activity that was both intimidating and exhilarating.

She rushed past the mess. Plenty of crew members ate and conversed while they entered the medical bay. Some of them stared at her.
Shepard led Satima through the bustling mess hall, where crew members chatted and dined, their conversations pausing as they took in the unusual sight of the alien girl. Whispers of curiosity followed their path, adding to the air of intrigue that surrounded their journey.

As they approached the medical bay, the sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air. Shepard opened the door with a sharp command, revealing a room filled with advanced medical equipment and a few busy medics who glanced up from their work, eyes widening at the sight of Satima. The hum of machinery and the faint beeps of monitors created a tense backdrop to the unfolding drama.

Satima's curiosity was piqued as she took in the unfamiliar surroundings. The walls were lined with sleek, futuristic devices, each one a testament to the technological prowess of the Normandy's crew. The medical bay was a hive of activity, with medics moving swiftly, their focused expressions hinting at the gravity of their work.

Satima's gaze was drawn to a salarian dressed in a long white lab coat, which appeared more like futuristic armor. The lab coat had intricate red lines and a metallic apparatus extending up the back of his neck. He glanced at Satima, did a double-take, and then returned to his work, his curiosity barely concealed.

In the far corner, perched on an examination table, was a krogan unlike any Satima had ever seen. The krogan wore a blue shawl that covered her face and head, exuding an aura of mystery and strength. Satima's eyes widened in realization – this krogan was female.

In her timeline, Tuchunka had been a planet shrouded in secrecy, its people isolated from the galaxy. Stories of independent space travel were whispered legends, and the primitive state of their world made those tales seem improbable. Yet, here was living proof, a testament to the old krogan and his clan's fierce protection of their secrets and traditions.
Satima's mind swirled with questions and curiosity as she took in the scene, the reality of the Normandy's diverse crew and advanced technology beginning to sink in.

Mordin's curiosity got the better of him. He swiftly approached the mysterious newcomer, his eyes widening with each step.

"Fascinating...remarkable...stunning!" he exclaimed, barely able to contain his excitement. "Shepard! Who is she? Where did she come from?" His voice quivered with a mix of awe and anticipation, as if he had stumbled upon a long-lost secret.

Shepard raised a hand, and Mordin's excitement visibly subsided. They spoke in hushed tones off to the side, allowing Satima to approach the female krogan. Their eyes met, a silent understanding passing between them. Satima nodded courteously, her curiosity piqued by the enigmatic figure before her.

Under guard, she sat in the medical bay. The salarian approached her with a needle. Satima flinched, her heart pounding. He deftly took a sample, his movements precise and clinical. "No need to be afraid. Only a small prick, practically painless," he reassured her, his voice quick and detached.

Satima's expression turned into a tight grin, her eyes narrowing. "So are my blades," she replied, her voice edged with a hint of warning.

The salarian backed away, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as he continued his work. Satima's heart raced, still feeling the faint sting of the needle. In front of her, the female krogan sat with her knees drawn to her chest, watching the bustling activity around her. She glanced at Satima once more, her sharp eyes gleaming with curiosity and something unspoken.

Shepard strode in, a turian male following closely behind. Satima's heart skipped a beat as recognition dawned on her. "Garrus 'damn' Vakarian," she thought, her mind racing with a mix of dread and anticipation.

She had nearly forgotten about the past timeline, whether it could be different or the same. This Garrus has never met her before. Satima gulped hard, her fears clawing at the edges of her resolve. She'll have to bury the pain deep if she is to help this timeline survive. Shepard and Garrus stood before her, their expressions unreadable, a stark contrast to the turmoil roiling within her.

Every step they took towards her felt like a countdown, each second thick with uncertainty. The air crackled with unspoken questions and the weight of a destiny yet to unfold.

"Garrus here will be your guide around the Normandy. While you're getting acclimated, I have some pressing reports to complete. We'll delve into how you came through the conduit later," Shepard stated with an authoritative yet welcoming tone.

Garrus arched an inquisitive brow, his mandibles flicking slightly. "Conduit?" he asked, his voice laced with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

"Long story," Shepard muttered, rubbing her temples in frustration before striding off towards the salarian. Satima and Garrus stood in a charged silence, the air between them thick with unspoken tension. He glanced at her, his eyes sharp, waiting for any reaction.

"You're making me nervous, Turian," Satima spoke, her voice edged with tension.

Garrus raised a curious brow, his voice low, "You know I'm a turian?" He leaned in slightly, his gaze intense. "I thought you were some kind of unknown species."

Satima looked at him confused, "Why wouldn't I?" she blurted out before realizing her mistake. Her heart pounded painfully as she tried to mask her error. She cleared her throat, pretending to have her attention caught elsewhere, but the tension in the air was evident, her slip-up hanging heavily between them.

Garrus shot her a quick, piercing stare before turning sharply and walking to where Shepard was standing. Satima felt the weight of his gaze linger, a chill running down her spine. She watched them intently, their familiar camaraderie a stark contrast to her own sense of alienation. Every word exchanged between them seemed to carry a hidden layer of meaning, a reminder that she was the anomaly in their ordered world. She was the paradox, the unknown variable that could tip the balance of their fragile reality.

An hour ticked by slowly, each minute feeling like an eternity. Garrus led the tour with a veneer of disinterest, pointing out various parts of the ship in a monotonous tone. Yet, beneath his calm exterior, he kept a keen eye on Satima, probing her reactions with subtle questions. Every turn of the corridor felt like a step deeper into the unknown, the weight of her untold secrets pressing heavily on her chest. The ship’s hum seemed to sync with her racing heart, each beat echoing with the unspoken tension that lay between them.

Every tick of the clock felt like Satima’s time was slipping away. She could have used these moments to confide in Shepard, to reveal the truth. But was the burden hers to share or to bear alone? These agonizing questions swirled in her mind, growing heavier with each passing second.

Satima's curiosity got the best of her, and she decided to venture into the engineering room. The lift doors opened with a soft chime, and she stepped out, immediately colliding with an asari and Shepard. The sudden encounter left her heart pounding, the unexpected tension palpable in the air.

"You're back from the little tour? Good. Let me introduce you to Liara T'Soni," Shepard said with a hint of pride in her voice. "She's an expert on Prothean technology and culture, specializing in the Prothean extinction. And, she's a damn good biotic too."

"Liara," Satima said, her voice carrying an edge of tension.

The asari's eyes flickered with a mixture of curiosity and concern. She glanced from Satima to Shepard, sensing the tension in the air. There was a faint tremor in her voice as she spoke.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, her gaze piercing through Satima, searching for answers.

Satima faced a new problem. In her timeline, Liara's betrayal nearly destroyed their efforts at escaping the HIVE. The heinous act replayed in Satima's mind, haunting her every glance at the asari. She tried to kill Reaper! Could those intentions have been there from the start?

"Why do you trust Asari?" Satima asked, her voice sharp and cutting.

"Excuse me?" Liara's voice was a controlled whisper, her eyes narrowing as she observed Satima's defensive posture.

"I know what you are. Stay away from Shepard," Satima warned, her voice a low, dangerous hiss as she leaned into Liara's face, her eyes burning with intensity.

Shepard's eyes narrowed, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. "What is your problem?" she demanded, the words laced with barely restrained anger. "Have you forgotten so quickly that you're my guest on this ship?" Her gaze bore into Satima, unyielding. "Liara is the reason we have any hope against the Reapers. She is the head of the crucible project. Neither she nor the asari are our enemies!" Shepard's voice grew colder with each word, the tension in the room thickening as the seconds dragged on.

The raging glare of Shepard settled on Satima as she stared in fear. After a few seconds of mental calm, the alien girl faced them both with an apologetic stance, remembering how she needed to gain Shepard's trust. Satima bowed her head with a sigh, "Apologies, Shepard. I did not have a pleasant experience with asari in my past." She then glanced at Liara, warily.

Convinced this was a small misunderstanding, Liara tried to calm the air. "It's all right Shepard. I can understand apprehensiveness and culture shock. Satima, the Commander, and I accept your apology." The asari nudged Shepard's shoulder, who waved Satima on.

Shepard’s mind raced as she trailed behind Satima. The girl’s knowledge of the asari seemed too intimate for someone claiming unfamiliarity with their galaxy. Unease gnawed at Shepard, questions swirling in her mind. Was Satima truly an ally, or was she a harbinger of a new threat?

Every step felt heavy with suspicion, the weight of doubt pressing down on Shepard's shoulders. There was something about Satima that just didn't add up. Could she be connected to the Reapers, or was she an agent of another unknown species?

The salarian noticed Satima on her way through the mess. Holding a datapad with the information Michelle has sent him, which is a match to his findings.

As Satima made her way through the bustling mess hall, she couldn't help but notice the salarian scientist, Mordin, holding a datapad with a look of mild curiosity. The datapad contained information that Doctor Michelle had sent him, confirming a match to his findings. He glanced up, his keen eyes locking onto Satima with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

"I am pleased to know we can converse. Your blood samples have come in," he informed her with a clinical detachment.

"Blood samples?" Satima asked nervously, a knot tightening in her stomach. She had forgotten about her half-breed DNA. They would demand an explanation, and she needed to act quickly.

The salarian gestured for Commander Shepard and Liara to join him. Satima's anxiety spiked. Shepard stepped closer to Mordin as he pointed to the holo screen.

"Clear traces of human DNA right here. And there is the turian DNA. Remarkable. Not an alien at all. But a hybrid. Of that, I am certain."
"Are you one hundred percent sure?" Shepard asked cautiously.

Mordin nodded quickly, "Absolutely. Doctor Michelle sent me the files from the Citadel's medical data. This is now classified since the council has put a lock on the files, preventing any spectre from knowing this, save you. And only because of the DNA implications of the relations between them."

Shepard's eyes bore into Satima's, her voice a low growl. "Who the hell are you, really?" The air between them crackled with tension, every second stretching out painfully as Satima hesitated, the weight of her secrets pressing down on her.

Satima realized the door behind her had been locked by Liara, who stood with Shepard, her biotics crackling with ominous energy. The atmosphere was thick with suspicion and fear.

"The only one of my kind," she whispered, her voice trembling as she stealthily slid her hand behind her back to the panel.

"How did you get through the conduit? Did the Reapers send you?" Shepard's voice was sharp, laced with suspicion. "Or are you working for the Illusive Man?"

Satima's fingers flew over the control panel, her heart pounding in her chest as she desperately tried to override the door lock. Beads of sweat formed on her brow, her mind racing with the consequences of failure. She hadn't intended for any of this to happen. The tangled mess of secrets and suspicions threatened to unravel everything.

If Shepard discovered the full truth, the fate of the galaxy could be sealed. The Reapers would gain the upper hand, and Satima would be forced to watch helplessly as everything she had fought for slipped away. She could almost feel their cold, mechanical presence lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike.

Seconds of silence passed, stretching the moment painfully thin, then the door slid open with a hiss, but not from Satima's hack. Her breath caught as Garrus stepped in, his sharp gaze sweeping the room.

He took in the tense atmosphere, Liara's biotics crackling with energy, and Shepard's battle-ready stance. "Did I miss something?", he asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and caution.

Satima's heart pounded in her chest, her shock evident as she met Garrus's gaze. The room felt as if it could explode with the weight of unspoken truths and looming threats.

"She's not an unknown alien after all, but a hybrid of two very current species," Liara informed, her voice thick with tension.

"Either sent by the reapers or Cerberus." Shepard chimed in.

Garrus stood over Satima as she retreated further into the shadows of the medical examiner's desk. The terminal flickered to life with a low hum. Her hand shot up in a desperate gesture of defense, "I never led you to any conclusions. You made those on your own. Yes, I am both human and turian, but I am not your enemy. I am an ally."

Satima's voice trembled, yet there was a fierce determination in her eyes. The room seemed to close in around them, each breath was a struggle against the crushing weight of mistrust and danger. The silence hung heavy, every second stretching into an eternity as they awaited Shepard's reaction.

Shepard advanced toward Satima, her gaze sharp and unyielding. Satima flinched, bracing for whatever was to come.

The commander's voice was icy, "Take her to the core room and lock her up. Now."

Two crewmen grabbed Satima by the arms, dragging her towards the door. Panic surged through her veins, and with a burst of adrenaline, she fought them off, her movements frantic and wild. She made a desperate dash for the exit, heart pounding like a war drum in her chest.

Just as she reached the threshold, Garrus stepped in her path, his presence a formidable wall. She collided with him, struggling fiercely, her desperation lending her strength. His grip was unyielding, his eyes filled with a mix of determination and regret.

"Let me go!" she screamed, her voice echoing through the medbay. She clawed and kicked, but Garrus's hold remained firm.

Shepard stood by the door to the core room, her expression cold and resolute as she watched the chaotic scene unfold. With a swift motion, she opened the door, her eyes never leaving Satima.

Garrus tightened his grip and, with a heavy heart, carried the struggling hybrid to the core room. Satima's heart sank as the door loomed closer, her screams growing more frantic.

"No! Please!" she begged, her voice breaking. The door slid open, and with a final, desperate effort, she tried to break free, but it was too late.
Garrus threw her into the core room, the door hissing shut behind her. She ran to it, banging on the cold metal surface, her strength waning.

Defeated, she slid to the floor, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the reality of her situation set in.

Satima sat in the memory core under strict lockdown. EDI, the android was keeping watch over her, via Normandy cameras and a kinetic shield.

Satima sat in the memory core under strict lockdown. EDI, the android, kept a vigilant watch over her, its sensors capturing every movement through the Normandy's cameras.

The kinetic shield hummed ominously, a constant reminder of her confinement. Every sound seemed amplified in the sterile room, the silence pressing down like a vise. Satima's thoughts raced, her pulse quickening with the dread of what was to come. What if this was the end? What if she never had a chance to prove her innocence? The weight of uncertainty hung heavy in the air, as she waited.

..............................................................................

Shepard paced back and forth in the battery room. Garrus listened as he calibrated the main gun. One of the best ways for him to think more clearly. Especially now."Everything about her spells out trouble and Illusive Man. Or the Reapers. I need to contact Miranda."

Shepard paced back and forth in the battery room, her mind racing. The air was thick with tension, each step echoing the turmoil within her.

Garrus worked quietly, his eyes flicking to the readouts as he calibrated the main gun, his thoughts equally troubled. The situation with Satima gnawed at them both, an ever-present reminder of the chaos they were trying to navigate.

"Everything about her spells trouble," Shepard muttered, her voice tight with frustration. "She could be connected to the Illusive Man, or even the Reapers. I need to contact Miranda."

Garrus nodded, his brow furrowed in concentration. "It's hard to trust anyone these days," he replied, his tone grim.

As Garrus meticulously adjusted the panels, the numbers on his monitor steadily climbed, a testament to his precise calibrations. "A human-turian hybrid in this day and age," he pondered aloud, a hint of incredulity in his voice. "Who would have thought?"

He stole a quick glance at Shepard, whose intense contemplation was almost palpable. The silence between them was charged with unspoken questions and a shared determination to uncover the truth.

She paced again, her steps growing more anxious with each circuit. Finally, she halted behind him, leaning in slightly. "Do you think she's some kind of experiment?" Her voice carried a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

Garrus glanced at her, "She could be?"

"Or an assassin," Shepard suggested, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.

"Or, she could be in danger," he replied, an edge of concern creeping into his voice. Garrus crossed his arms, his mandibles twitching thoughtfully.
"Just imagine the story behind all this."

Shepard gave a wry smile, "One hell of a story indeed. Let's hope it's one with a decent ending."

Garrus stared at her. Her smile, a rare sight amidst the turmoil, brought a fleeting warmth to his thoughts. "I'm sure we'll uncover the truth soon," he said, his voice a blend of reassurance and determination. "Just give her a little time to adjust."

Shepard sighed, but the tension in her shoulders didn't ease. "Since the Reapers came, everything has been chaos. Nothing makes sense anymore," she muttered, frustration evident in her voice. "Liara's got some superweapon the Protheans made, but what if it isn't enough? What if we can't decipher it in time? Miranda and Jacob haven't contacted me about the Illusive Man's plans. Assuming they're still with Cerberus, what if they're compromised?"

Shepard's eyes darted around the room, her mind racing with countless variables and scenarios, each more dire than the last. The weight of uncertainty pressed down on her, a constant reminder of the fragile balance they were all fighting to maintain. Her fingers twitched, as if itching to take action, but she knew that some things were beyond her control.

Garrus stepped closer, his voice steady and reassuring. "We'll figure this out, Shepard. I'll reach out to Victus and see if he can spare some technicians for Liara's project. And as for Miranda and Jacob, they're resourceful. Miranda especially knows how to navigate through tough situations. We just need to stay focused and trust in our team."
Shepard looked at him, her tension easing slightly. "Thanks, Garrus."
They lingered in the main battery, sharing a moment of silent solidarity before Shepard quietly left. Garrus turned back to his work, his thoughts still lingering on the hybrid girl locked in the core room.

Moments later, curiosity got the better of the commander. She strode purposefully into the med-bay, unlocking the core room door with a swift motion. As she entered, Satima sprang up, her eyes wide with apprehension.

Shepard's eyes bore into Satima, the air thick with tension. "Give me something—anything. Where do you come from? Do you even understand what you are?" Her voice was sharp, each word a demand for the truth.

"In exchange for what?", Satima shot back, her voice edged with defiance.

"In exchange for trust," Shepard replied, her gaze unwavering.

Satima let out a deep and weary sigh, her gaze drifting to some distant, invisible point. Shepard's boots clicked against the cold floor as she resumed her pacing, her mind racing with possible revelations.

"I come from a future engulfed in darkness," Satima began, her voice a haunting whisper. "A future where the Reapers reign supreme, spreading chaos and fear. There are a few survivors—those who cling to life in the shadows. But honestly... they're probably all dead by now."

Shepard halted abruptly, her piercing eyes locking onto Satima's. "Do you expect me to believe that?" she scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief, her arms crossing tightly over her chest.

Satima stared into Shepard's piercing gaze. "No, but I expected someone like you to hear me out before dismissing my words outright."

That bit hard. Shepard stopped pacing and listened. Satima could not look her in the eye. Reaper would just stare right back. She wanted out of her small cell. "I used the conduit as a means of fast travel to the past. I come from an alternate future. That's all I can give you.", she finished.

Shepard stopped pacing, her keen eyes locked onto Satima, who could barely meet her gaze. The weight of the Reapers' terror hung between them like a dark cloud. Satima's voice wavered as she spoke, "I used the conduit to travel back in time. I come from an alternate future where everything is lost. That's all I can tell you."

Shepard's mind raced as she considered Satima's words. The girl's story sounded far-fetched, but there was an unsettling sincerity in her eyes.
"Alright," Shepard said, her voice tinged with both skepticism and curiosity. She turned sharply and left the core room, the door hissing shut behind her. Satima remained seated, her head buried into her knees, the cold silence of the cell pressing in around her.

As Shepard made her way to the command center, thoughts of Satima's haunting future plagued her mind. Could the girl be telling the truth? And if she was, what horrors awaited them? Shepard's resolve hardened.

The commander spoke to the council with an urgency that brooked no argument. "I need complete custody of the girl," Shepard demanded, her voice steely. The council's compliance was swift, almost too swift, leaving Shepard with a nagging sense of unease. But she couldn't afford to dwell on that now—not with the Reapers waging their merciless war, annihilating millions in their path.

As the doors of the command center closed behind her, Shepard's thoughts churned with questions and doubts. Satima's haunting revelations and the council's uncharacteristic acquiescence gnawed at her, shadows of uncertainty that threatened to undermine her resolve. She had to find the truth, and she had to find it now.

..........................................................................................................

Satima sat inside the small compartment, her body trembling with exhaustion. The shield over it glowed menacingly, a constant reminder of her captivity. Her eyes grew heavy, and she couldn't fight the pull of sleep any longer, succumbing to a deep and uneasy dream.

It began in Haven. The engine room was filled with an eerie, mechanical hum. Jormun was there, frantically working to keep the drive core from overheating. He looked up at her and smiled.

Satima's smile faded as she walked through the dimly lit, echoing corridors of the old ship. The air was thick with tension, every step echoing the weight of her situation. Suddenly, Archer appeared in the shuttle bay, a sinister grin spreading across his face. He held a gun to Caius, whose eyes were wide with terror. The boy's silent plea for help pierced through Satima's heart, paralyzing her with fear.

She tried to speak, but no words came out. A sudden grip on her arm twisted it painfully. She turned abruptly to face Garrus from her timeline—her father. His eyes burned with fury, and his grip tightened, almost snapping her arm. "This is your fault!" he roared, his voice echoing through the eerie silence of the ship.

Satima shook with fear, unable to utter a word. Her father's accusations echoed in her mind, each one cutting deeper than the last. Just as she felt the oppressive weight of his anger about to crush her, an unfamiliar presence encircled her, suffocating her thoughts and stealing her breath.
She woke abruptly to find Shepard's piercing gaze fixed on her. The girl had been whimpering in her sleep, a sound that made the commander’s heart clench with unease.

"I'm ready to let you out," Shepard stated, her eyes narrowing with a mix of suspicion and curiosity, "but only on one condition."

Satima swallowed her nightmare back, sitting up straighter. "And what would that be?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"That you tell me the truth," Shepard commanded, her eyes blazing with determination.

An hour passed by, as Shepard leaned against the railing over the core function panels. They hummed to the ship's rhythm. She stared at the blue lights blinking in tune. Everything Satima had said before couldn't be true. The hybrid sat there watching Shepard warily.

"And the relay you came through; who sent you?" Shepard inquired, preparing herself to hear something related to the Illusive Man or the Reapers.

Satima nodded, then proceeded to reveal a few things. "An ancient alien race you've never heard of," she answered.

"Who?" Shepard demanded in alarm. Could it be the Protheans?

Satima sat up straighter, her voice gaining a hint of confidence. "They are called the Sentarians. An ancient pre-civilization. Or at least that's what my friend says."

"Friend?" the commander asked, narrowing her eyes.

Satima took a deep breath, her eyes reflecting a mixture of fear and determination. "She's part of the reason why I'm here. The Sentarians had foreseen the Reapers' return and had hidden knowledge that could turn the tide of the war. But this knowledge comes with a price—one that may be too high for anyone to pay. They chose me because of my unique abilities, my hybrid nature. They believed I could bridge the gap between their ancient wisdom and our present reality."

Satima's words flowed with an undeniable confidence, weaving a tale that seemed almost too perfect to be true. Shepard, usually perceptive, found herself caught in the web of Satima's narrative. Could it really be this straightforward?

And yet, perhaps it was Shepard's desperation that made her cling to the possibility. The weight of the Reaper threat hung heavily on her shoulders, and any glimmer of hope, no matter how faint, was a welcome respite.

Shepard's mind raced, torn between skepticism and the desperate need for a lifeline. Satima's tale was a gamble, one that could either save them all or lead them to ruin.

The Sentarians' knowledge could be their salvation or their doom, and Shepard knew that every decision from this moment on would carry the weight of countless lives. The Reapers were unrelenting, but now there was a glimmer of hope, fragile and elusive, that could change everything.
Shepard's mind raced, a whirlwind of questions storming within her. She searched Satima's eyes, seeking the elusive truths hidden behind their depths. "There is more than one reason?" Shepard mused aloud. "Then what could it be?"

Satima's demeanor shifted, as if preparing herself for the weight of what she was about to reveal. The tension thickened, a palpable force in the air, as Shepard braced herself for the next revelation.

Satima cleared her throat. "Have the reapers come to harvest yet?"

Shepard clenched her fists, her mind racing through the chaos of recent events. The haunting images of Earth under siege flashed before her eyes, the screams and desperation of people she could not save echoing in her ears. "In force," she answered, her voice barely a whisper, yet heavy with the weight of unspoken grief and determination.

The girl tilted her head, her eyes wide with fear and uncertainty. "I can't tell you much, not yet. I'm not sure what I can say without risking everything. This is all new and terrifying to me."

Shepard's eyes bore into Satima, the weight of expectation clear in her gaze. She wasn't satisfied with the hybrid's vague answers, but keeping the girl locked away for too long could breed distrust.

With a decisive motion, the commander unlocked the barrier, allowing Satima to step forward. The hybrid almost stumbled, catching herself just in time. "Is there anything else we need to know?" Shepard demanded, her voice edged with impatience.

"Yes... no... I don't know," Satima stammered, her voice trembling.

Shepard's eyes narrowed, a sharp edge in her gaze. "You better figure it out, and soon," she warned, her voice a low, dangerous whisper.

The tension in the air was evident, a silent storm brewing between them. Satima swallowed hard, the weight of Shepard's words pressing down on her. She knew that every second counted, and the fate of countless lives hung in the balance.

Leaving Satima in the core room, Shepard felt the weight of responsibility pressing down upon her. She trudged to the elevator, each step heavier than the last. As the doors slid shut, she leaned against the railing, allowing herself a moment's respite. She stretched her arms above her head, trying to release the tension knotted in her muscles. The familiar hum of the Normandy’s lift was a small comfort, a reminder of the ship that had been her steadfast ally through countless battles.

When she reached the top floor of the Normandy, the door slid open, and Shepard stepped out into her cabin. She walked slowly to her desk, only to fall into a chair. The terminal whined on with all the recent reports covering the screen.

At times, Garrus would observe each floor for security purposes on the Normandy. He knows EDI can do a faster search and is more thorough with the meticulous aspects.

But Garrus’s instincts, honed from years in C-Sec and his father's rigorous training, sharpened at the sight of Shepard. The camera feed showed her sitting alone, staring blankly at an empty screen on her desk, lost in a sea of thoughts and battles yet to be fought.

Garrus stepped out of the elevator, his eyes scanning the cabin for Shepard. He found her hunched over her terminal, fingers flying over the keys, the glow of the screen casting shadows on her weary face. Concern etched across his features, he approached her quietly.

“Charlie,” he said softly, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. She flinched at his touch, as if pulled abruptly from the depths of her thoughts.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and unfocused. For a moment, it seemed as though she didn't recognize him, but then reality snapped back into place. Shepard shook her head slightly, struggling to shake off the haze that had clouded her mind. She hastily stood up, moving to the couch in the room.

Shepard sank onto the couch, her gaze flitting around the room, unable to settle. Garrus watched her closely, his worry deepening. He moved to sit on the coffee table across from her, his eyes never leaving her face.

She sighed deeply, her shoulders sagging under an invisible weight. “I have so much to fix. And now we have this hybrid girl who tells me that a mysterious race sent her through the conduit,” she said, her voice tinged with frustration and exhaustion.

Garrus met her gaze, his eyes steady and supportive. Shepard swallowed hard, a small, wry smile playing on her lips. “I think I’m slowly going insane. Maybe I should drop her off at the nearest desert planet and pretend none of this ever happened,” she said, a hint of dark humor in her voice.

He chuckled softly, moving to sit beside her. She leaned on him, finding a small measure of comfort in his presence. “You need to sleep. It's been two days of running, and you’ve been staring at the crucible schematics for most of it. Whoever this girl is, the truth will come out,” he said gently.

“The truth did come out. Well, some of it,” Shepard murmured, her eyes growing heavy. “I’ll just take a nap here,” she added, her voice trailing off.

“Oh no. It’s the bed for you,” Garrus replied firmly, guiding her to the soft mattress. She curled up on her side, sighing in relief as he covered her with a blanket.

Garrus sat on the edge of the bed, keeping watch for a short time. His mind raced with questions and doubts. What if Shepard was right, and the hybrid girl was not entirely innocent? He glanced towards the door, feeling a growing urgency to investigate further, ensuring the safety of his commander and their mission.
...........................................................................................

Meanwhile, Satima remained in the core room, the silence enveloping her like a shroud. The quietude was a stark contrast to the chaos she had endured, and it tugged at her heart with an unexpected weight. She missed the familiarity of Haven, the echoes of camaraderie that now seemed a distant memory. Sitting in the dimly lit corner of the compartment wall, she felt a pang of isolation, deep and unrelenting.

Here, in this solitary refuge, she let her thoughts wander, seeking solace in the stillness.

Half an hour slipped by, a cloak of silence draping over the room. Satima's thoughts tugged at her, almost persuading her to venture out and explore the ship once more. Just as impatience began to settle in, the door hissed open, and Garrus stepped inside with a determined stride.

His presence filled the room with an aura of tension, his eyes locking onto hers with a fierce intensity. Each step he took towards her seemed to echo the pounding of her heart. Without preamble, he demanded, "What are you, really?"

The gravity in his voice was undeniable, and Satima felt a shiver run down her spine.

"What?", Satima replied, confused.

Garrus walked forward, slowly, his eyes never leaving Satima's. "You came through the conduit on the Citadel, with claims of time travel, which is entirely impossible," he said, backing her towards the wall. "A dangerous traitor used that same conduit to try and destroy the Citadel. Shepard brings you here to find out that you are a hybrid humanoid." He looked her up and down with intense scrutiny. "How stupid do you think we are?" he demanded.

Satima's heart pounded in her chest, her breath quickening as she felt the cold wall against her back. Her mind raced, trying to find the right words to defuse the tension. The fear in her eyes was unmistakable, yet she held her ground. Her voice wavered slightly as she replied, "I... I didn't choose this. I don't even fully understand what's happening. But I swear, I'm not here to harm anyone."

Garrus's eyes narrowed, his suspicion unwavering. He leaned in closer, his voice a low growl. "Then start talking. Prove to me that you're not a threat."

"All of it is true, Garrus," Satima declared, her voice trembling slightly. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for any sign that he might soften his stance.

Garrus's expression remained hard and unyielding. He took another step forward, the tension between them thickening. "Prove it," he demanded, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. "Why should I believe anything you say?"

Satima took a deep breath, her mind racing. She knew that one wrong word could push Garrus over the edge. "I don't have all the answers you're looking for," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "But I'm not your enemy. I came through the conduit because I was desperate, and I need your help as much as you need mine."

Garrus narrowed his eyes, his suspicion unwavering. "Desperate for what? What could be so important that you'd risk everything to come here?"

Satima swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his gaze. "To stop a threat greater than any of us can imagine," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't expect you to trust me right away, but give me a chance to prove myself. Let me show you that I'm not here to cause harm."

He stepped closer in a menacing manner, "Suddenly you know me? Say my name like it's familiar." Garrus's eyes darkened with suspicion as he advanced on Satima, his voice a harsh whisper. "You think I don't see through your lies? You have no idea what you're up against."

Satima's pulse quickened, but she stood her ground, feeling an inexplicable connection to this man who seemed so determined to distrust her.

Garrus's paranoia continued to mount, his threats becoming more pointed. "If you're here to hurt Shepard, I will stop you. I don't care what it takes," he growled, his talons flexing menacingly.

Satima felt a pang of hurt and confusion. How could he not see? Her heart ached with the weight of his words, the realization of their true connection a secret she couldn't yet reveal. "If only you knew," she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. "I am not here to harm anyone. Especially not you."

Garrus's expression remained hard, his paranoia blinding him to the truth. Each word he spoke, each threat he made, unknowingly drove a wedge between them. The irony of his actions lay hidden, as the harm in trust he committed against Satima was a tragic testament to their intertwined fates.

Satima's voice trembled as she tried to reach him one last time. "Garrus, you need to trust me. Our future depends on it."

But Garrus's paranoia had taken root too deeply, leaving Satima to bear the burden of their concealed bond, the truth lingering just out of reach.

Satima's emotions roiled within her as she met Garrus's fierce glare, his threats echoing in her ears. The intensity of his love and loyalty to Shepard was palpable, but the pain of his mistrust cut deep. She couldn't stand by silently, acquiescing to his hostility. Her gaze hardened, mirroring the fire blazing in her chest. If he thought she was the enemy, he was gravely mistaken.

Her eyes blazed with a newfound determination as she squared her shoulders, no longer the image of a cornered prey but of a fierce predator ready to strike. Satima's voice dripped with icy resolve, "I would watch my tone if I were you, Garrus. You have no idea what I'm capable of." The words hung in the air, charged with an electric tension, as she stood unyielding, daring him to challenge her strength.

The atmosphere in the room became tense. Garrus's threats touched home but more importantly; this girl had a fire in her eyes. She had been in battle before, and often. As he watched her stand her ground, unwavering, something shifted within him. He began to see the resolve in her eyes, the sincerity in her voice.

Garrus's suspicion started to waver, his stance softening. He took a deep breath, his features relaxing slightly. "Maybe... maybe I'm wrong about you," he admitted, reluctantly. His eyes searched hers for any sign of deception, but all he found was determination and a plea for understanding.

The tension in the air began to dissipate as Garrus took a step back, his aggressive posture giving way to a more thoughtful one. "Alright," he said, his voice calmer. "I'll give you a chance to prove yourself. But know this, Satima, if you betray us, I will not hesitate to act."

Satima felt a glimmer of hope, her heart still pounding but now with a mix of relief. "Thank you, Garrus," she replied earnestly.

Before anything else could be said, the door slid open and Liara strode in, her gaze sweeping across the room. "What did I miss?" she asked, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. The tension between Garrus and Satima hung heavy in the air, but the arrival of Liara brought a momentary distraction, diffusing the immediate hostility.

As Satima moved from the core room into the medbay, her steps slowed, the sterile scent of antiseptic and faint humming of machines filling the air. Her curiosity was piqued as she caught sight of the salarian engrossed in his work, meticulously mixing two vibrant liquids at his workstation. The scene was a stark contrast to the heated exchange she had just endured, offering a brief, yet intriguing respite from the tension. Her eyes remained fixed on the salarian, noting his precision and focus, as a deep female voice suddenly broke through the quiet.

"I heard what you are," the krogan woman spoke from the shadows of the room, her voice carrying curiosity.

Satima leaned against the wall, a hint of defiance in her voice as she asked, "Does it offend you?"

The krogan female smirked, her eyes scanning the room with knowing intensity. "No. I understand loneliness when I see it. And pain." She fixed her gaze on the hybrid, her expression a mix of empathy and challenge.

"What do you know of pain?", Satima asked, her eyes wide with curiosity, her tone tinged with disbelief.

"A great deal, young one," she answered, her voice carrying the weight of experience. "In life, we are often faced with unimaginable challenges and pain. It's not the suffering that defines us, but how we rise above it. My people have endured the genophage for centuries, losing hope with each stillborn child. Yet, here I stand, not as a victim, but as a beacon of change. We must learn from our past mistakes, not to repeat them, but to forge a better future."

Satima, her curiosity piqued, took a cautious step closer. "What happened to you?" she asked, her voice a mix of intrigue and concern.

The female krogan tightened her grip on her knees, her eyes reflecting a mixture of pride and sorrow. "I was once a mother and a shaman to my people," she began, her voice tinged with nostalgia. "I've delivered countless children into this world and defended my clan with every ounce of strength in my body." She cast a meaningful glance at Mordin, who continued his work with meticulous dedication. "Now, I find myself a living experiment, a beacon of hope and fear for the galaxy. My body holds the key to altering the destiny of my people, giving them a chance to rise above centuries of suffering."

Satima gazed at the krogan in awe. "What do you mean, your body?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly with curiosity and fear. The krogan female's words were enigmatic, yet deeply compelling.

The krogan female released her legs, stepping off the table with a sense of resolve. "There is a cure within me. And was in many others," she began, her voice carrying the weight of a thousand stories. Mordin, the salarian at the lab station, looked up briefly, a silent acknowledgment passing between them. "He's ensuring this nightmare ends. The salarians crafted the contagion, but it was the turians who unleashed it upon us."
She paused, her gaze piercing through the room as if recalling a distant, painful memory. "For years, we were trapped in a cycle of despair, our hopes dashed with every failed birth. But now, there's a glimmer of hope, a chance to break free from the shackles of our past."

With a deep breath, she continued, "Mordin is correcting a grave mistake, one born out of anger and misunderstanding. This cure is not just for my people, but for the galaxy. It's a chance for redemption, for healing old wounds and forging a new path."

Satima's eyes widened, a mixture of curiosity and disbelief painting her features. She had never known this dark chapter of history. "The turians killed your babies?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper, the enormity of the revelation sinking in.

"Not in the way you're seeing it, young one," the krogan said, her voice filled with a deep, resonant gravity. She turned to face Satima fully, her eyes narrowing with a mixture of empathy and intensity. "I heard you are both human and turian. Do you know the true story behind that?" Her words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken truths and mysteries yet to be unveiled.

"Yes," Satima answered, her voice trembling, a storm of emotions barely contained within her.

"Do not let the shadows of the past define you. You were not the architect of these tragedies, nor are those who live now," the krogan woman said, her voice softening with a mixture of sternness and empathy. "What matters is that we remember, that we learn from history's darkest chapters, so we never tread that path again." With a heavy heart, she returned to her examination table, the weight of her words lingering in the air.

Satima was overwhelmed. Her thoughts raced as the krogan's words echoed in her mind. Was the female referring to the Turians? Why did this revelation feel like a weight on her shoulders? She glimpsed Mordin bringing a steel tray of injections for the krogan. His nod was brief but filled with unspoken urgency, his incessant humming a stark contrast to the gravity of the moment. Satima left the med-bay, her heart pounding, and made her way past crew members, each step feeling heavier than the last. She entered the lift, her mind a whirlwind of emotions, and as the doors closed, she couldn't shake the sense of impending doom.

She stayed in the elevator, her thoughts racing chaotically as it ascended and descended slowly. Has this galaxy always been so dark? So sinister? The horrific reality of Salarians and Turians killing Krogan babies and females being subjected to cruel experiments weighed heavily on her mind. Satima felt an overwhelming urge to flee, the desire to escape the suffocating shadows of horror that now seemed to encroach upon her every breath.

The elevator doors slid open, revealing Liara standing outside, her piercing gaze locking onto Satima. For a heartbeat, the two women stared at each other, the air thick with unspoken words and hidden tensions. Satima quickly pushed past her, her movements abrupt and hurried, as if fleeing from an invisible threat.

Liara's eyes followed Satima's retreating form, a flicker of concern crossing her features. Something was terribly wrong. She could feel it in the way Satima moved, in the haunted expression that had briefly flashed across her face. Determined to uncover the truth, Liara turned on her heel and made her way to find Shepard, her mind swirling with questions and a sense of dread. 

Chapter Text

Shepard watched the Citadel gardens on the monitor. Suddenly, the conduit activated, revealing a shadowy figure. The air felt thick with anticipation, and Shepard's pulse quickened as the figure took a step forward, shrouded in darkness.

Citizens scrambled in terror, their panicked screams echoing through the Citadel. The fear of another attack by the Reapers or Geth gripped them, shrouding the atmosphere with palpable dread. Satima, disoriented, staggered to her feet as a phalanx of C-Sec guards encircled the bridge, their weapons trained on her with deadly precision.

The commander replayed the occurrence enough times that she could recall quite a few details without a mistake. Like a c-sec cop who seemed enthralled by the blue core of the small relay or the nearby keepers that kept watch silently, without fidgeting. Something eerie crept up Shepard's spine but she couldn't pin down the cause or reason. Was it the suddenness of the event or the unearthly silence that followed? Shepard couldn’t shake the feeling that something malevolent was watching, waiting to strike.

What if Satima's claim about coming from the future was true? Could any of this horror be undone? Could it bring back those lost in this relentless galactic war? Shepard forcefully dismissed the idea, her hand shaking as she stopped the recording on her terminal screen. Such fantasies only distort reality and undermine the truth. Regardless of who this mysterious young woman was, there was no halting the Reapers—no end to this war.

Third Deck-Medbay

Satima's eyes followed Doctor Chockwas as she typed away on her monitor, the rhythmic tapping of keys filling the air. The hybrid’s wide, dark eyes were filled with curiosity, her brow perpetually furrowed in concentration.

Chockwas, aware of the scrutiny, couldn't help but feel a twinge of amusement. Satima remained in the shadows of the med-bay, observing intently from a distance. The good doctor's glance met Satima's gaze, and she offered a warm smile.

Chockwas's fingers paused on the keyboard as she turned to face Satima, her curiosity piqued by the silent observer. With a gentle smile, she broke the silence, her voice warm and inviting, "You know, I've been typing away here without even knowing your name. Would you mind sharing it with me?"

The hybrid leaned against the wall, her thoughts racing as she considered how to respond to the doctor's unexpected kindness. Her voice broke the tension in the room like a gentle whisper, "Satima," she said, her name carrying the weight of countless untold stories.

Karin typed a few more words for her report, taking a mental note of the name and attitude. Then she turned off her display and gracefully rose from her chair, her white lab coat swaying softly.

"It's a pleasure to formally meet you, Satima," Chockwas said, her voice warm with genuine interest. "I'm Doctor Chockwas of the Normandy. I've served on this ship for several years now, under the command of Shepard."

Her smile was inviting, her eyes twinkling with the promise of shared stories and untold adventures. Satima could sense the depth of experience and wisdom radiating from the doctor, and for a moment, she felt a spark of hope flicker within her.

Satima narrowed her eyes, skepticism tainting her gaze. She couldn't afford to trust a warm smile or kind words—not anymore. Too many times, such gestures had masked hidden agendas. She felt the weight of Doctor Chockwas's friendliness bearing down on her, a stark contrast to the cold, steely resolve that had kept her alive so far. The doctor's gentle demeanor did nothing to alleviate the tension that now thickened the air, making her pulse quicken with wary anticipation.

Karin noticed how the hybrid refused to acknowledge the gesture or speak. She decided to carefully approach her, reaching the front of a diagnostic table Satima was standing behind. Karin's voice took on a tone of quiet intensity.

"You are a unique type of species, according to the classified brief I'm allowed to skim. Of course, you would be the first of your kind. Tell me," she paused, her eyes narrowing with curiosity and unease, "how did your parents manage to conceive you, without any prenatal problems?"

The doctor's folded arms and penetrating gaze bore into Satima, the question hanging in the air like a challenge. The tension between them thickened, the silence almost suffocating as Satima considered whether to trust this unexpected inquiry or remain guarded as always.

Satima gulped, her pulse pounding in her ears. The truth behind her creation was more twisted and sinister than any simple act of conception. In fact, there had been no conception at all. The revelations from Archer about her genesis haunted her every moment, a shadow she couldn't escape.

The directive had taken everything from Shepard—body, mind, freedom, and more. It wasn't fair for either of them, but it had happened. This was a valid reason for Satima to stay in this timeline. If she could stop the harvest, stop the Reapers from succeeding, there would be no Directive, no Archer, but also no Satima. The weight of this realization pressed down on her, suffocating, as she wrestled with the decision.

A sudden snap of fingers brought her back to the present, the sound echoing like a gunshot in the med-bay.

"Child, are you alright? You seem to be out of sorts. Is there anything I can help with?" Doctor Chockwas's voice cut through the haze of her thoughts, her eyes narrowing with concern.

Satima's head jerked up, her expression hardening. "I'm fine!" she snapped, the words sharp and defensive, masking the turmoil roiling within her.

She retreated hastily into the core room, leaving Karin to stand unamused by the girl's abruptness. Karin returned to her desk, eyes narrowing as she scanned the samples Mordin had left behind eight hours earlier. Determined, she re-tested them, her fingers dancing over the keys as she searched for any DNA matches in the network databases. She was resolute—one way or another, she would uncover the truth.
…...…...…...…...…...…...…...

Hours had passed, the weight of an imminent mission pressing down on the Normandy's crew. Shepard had rallied her team, urgency crackling in the air like static before a storm.

The hybrid girl remained behind, a lone figure in the ship's shadows, as Shepard led a contingent to the surface of Tuchanka. The planet loomed below, its harsh landscape a testament to the resilience of the krogan.

Mordin, ever the meticulous salarian scientist, escorted the mysterious female krogan with a gravity that matched the mission's stakes. The weight of their task bore down on them—despite the looming Reaper threat, they had to succeed. Failure was not an option, and the tension was evident, each step a reminder of the peril that awaited them.

Satima's eyes tracked the female krogan's retreating form, her heart pounding with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. She yearned to follow, to understand the mission's gravity, yet remained rooted in the medbay, the weight of her past and future colliding in her mind. Memories of her own battles surged forth, stinging her eyes with unshed tears. She wiped them away hastily, ensuring no one saw her moment of vulnerability.

As the minutes ticked away on the now eerily quiet warship, hushed voices spread news in the mess hall—Shepard had fought a Reaper, using Tuchanka's deadly thresher maws to bring the colossal machine to its knees. The mere thought of those massive subterranean beasts, known for their ferocity and raw power, sent shivers down her spine.

Satima, lingering at the med-bay doorway, strained to catch every detail. Witnessing Shepard in action against the Reapers would have been nothing short of legendary.

Determined not to miss out again, Satima resolved to wait for the commander's return in the core room. The next mission—whatever it was—she had to be a part of it. This was history in the making, and she was determined to carve her place in it.

Each second felt like an eternity as she prepared herself mentally, the tension evident in the air. She could feel it—a storm was brewing, and she was ready to face it head-on.
…...…...…...…...…...

In the cargo bay, Cortez piloted the Kodiak with the team from the recent battle. The hum of the engines was almost drowned out by the pounding of Satima's heart.

The mission on Tuchanka had been a harrowing success. The genophage was cured, earning Shepard the honor of being named a sister to Wrex's clan and the krogan people. But amidst the victory, a shadow loomed—Mordin's sacrifice. His death for the future of Tuchanka weighed heavily on everyone.

Shepard had lost not just a soldier in the fight against the Reapers, but a friend. Mordin's final words echoed hauntingly in her mind as she stepped into the elevator, the doors sliding shut with a hiss.

"My responsibility to fix. Need to save them. No more… No more dead."

Shepard moved to her cabin with a heavy heart. Once inside, she tore off her battle gear, the tight black under-suit clinging to her like a reminder of the suffocating pressure of their mission.

"Had to be me. Someone else might have gotten it wrong."

The silence in her cabin was deafening. The weight of the loss, the stakes of their war, and the uncertainty of their future pressed down on her, each breath a struggle against the rising tide of despair.

Those words stung even more bitterly as Shepard watched the Shroud explode in a fiery inferno, its majestic structure crumbling into the desert below. Among the debris lay the mangled remains of Mordin—a hero whose sacrifice would be etched into the future of the krogan.

She sat on the edge of her sofa, head bowed in defeat, her thoughts a tumultuous storm. How many more? How many more people would she lose before the council and the galaxy woke up to the reality of their peril?
Each second felt like a ticking time bomb, the stakes rising with every heartbeat. Shepard's resolve hardened, her grief transforming into a steely determination. The silence of her cabin was now a battlefield, every breath a struggle against the encroaching despair. But she knew—there was no turning back. The Reaper war was far from over, and she would not rest until victory was in their grasp.

"Commander.", EDI's voice echoed for a second.

"Yes…", Shepard replied.

"Satima would like to speak to you."

She sighed briefly. "Let her in."

Minutes later, Satima entered the solemn cabin of Commander Shepard. As she passed the embedded fish tank, the lone fish swam up to greet her, its large, curious eyes following her movements. Ignoring the aquatic spectator, Satima descended the short steps into the heart of the cabin.

Shepard sat on the edge of her sofa, her gaze heavy with thought. Satima stood at attention, her posture rigid and formal, a stark contrast to the informal atmosphere. "Commander. I have various tactical skills in combat," she declared, her voice resolute. Yet, the stiff mannerism seemed almost foreign, as if this was not her natural demeanor.

Shepard raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "Good to know. Why are you bringing this up?"

Satima cleared her throat, her resolve unwavering. "I can fight," she insisted, her eyes blazing with determination.

They locked eyes for a moment, a silent understanding passing between them. Shepard read the seriousness in Satima's gaze and nodded, beginning to rise from her seat. "Can you follow orders in the field?" she asked, her voice steady.

"Yes, Commander. I can follow your command," Satima affirmed, her determination unwavering.

Shepard accepted the answer, moving towards her spacious bed and sitting on the edge. Leaning forward with one hand on her knee, she let out a heavy sigh. "Next mission, show me what you've got. Speak to Garrus about group layouts. He's my second in command and one hell of a fireteam leader."

Satima's heart raced with anticipation. The thought of proving herself on the next mission filled her with a mix of excitement and nerves.
"Right...great idea," she thought, recalling the tension between herself and Garrus in the core room.

As Satima started to leave, Shepard exhaled a shaky breath. The hybrid had heard about the mission and the tragic losses. She remembered the whispered tales of Mordin's demise. "That salarian? Mordin? I'm sorry for what happened. It must be tough to lose someone from your team."

Shepard's laughter was brittle, almost a crack in her composed facade. "Why are you sorry? You didn't kill him," she replied, her voice laced with bitterness. Then she shook her head, her stare distant and haunted. "Do you know what it's like to lose a friend?"

Satima's eyes flickered with a mix of pain and understanding. "Yes," she whispered, the weight of her past evident in that single word.

An uneasy silence settled between them, charged with unspoken grief. Finally, the hybrid turned and left, leaving Shepard to wrestle with her memories and the ghosts of her fallen comrades.

The elevator ride felt interminable, each second stretching into an eternity as Satima's mind flitted to Jormun and Do'ova. Standing outside the battery room door, she wrung her hands, steeling herself to face the very person who seemed to resent her presence onboard.

Garrus was always a somber, brooding figure in her timeline, but even under the influence, he could still place a bullet with deadly precision. Those last days of his life were cloaked in peril and family turmoil. Satima couldn't shake the gnawing guilt that she was responsible for his death. If she had only insisted harder for him to follow her, rather than remaining behind on that damned ship, he would have been there with Reaper.

Watching his daughter, risking everything to sabotage the mission and alter the future.

She could almost feel his disappointed gaze, his stern avian eyes piercing through her soul.

The door slid open, and Satima's heart pounded in her chest as she collided with the imposing figure of Garrus. The data pad he held clattered to the floor. "Spirits, kid!" he exclaimed, his voice a rough growl that sent a shiver down her spine.

She winced, the memories of their past collaborations flashing before her eyes. "Apologies, Garrus," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

He smirked, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "Don't pretend our last conversation didn't happen," he said, his tone laced with a dangerous edge.

She couldn't meet his gaze, knowing the weight of his words. "I haven't," she replied, her voice trembling.

"Good," he replied curtly, picking up the data pad and dismissing whatever he had been viewing. He seemed even more impatient and formidable than she remembered. "What do you want?" he demanded, annoyance seeping into his voice.

"I have a question," she blurted out, her throat tight with fear.
He stood there, his presence overwhelming, waiting for her to speak. This Garrus was less forgiving, less patient - and it terrified her.

"Commander Shepard has consented to me accompanying the next mission," Satima finished, her voice barely holding steady.

Garrus's expression twisted into one of disbelief. "What?" His voice cut through the air like a blade. Satima's resolve wavered, the weight of her decision pressing down on her. She began to turn away, retreating back towards the core room when she felt a firm, taloned hand grip her shoulder. She froze, her heart racing.

"Listen, kid," Garrus growled, his voice low and menacing. "We haven't been properly acquainted. I'm gonna need some convincing you're not the enemy, by telling the truth. Starting with how you were born." His eyes bore into hers, demanding honesty. "And what you're really doing here."
Satima's mind raced. "And what if I don't really know? What if the answers are beyond reach and I'm just as in the dark about my existence as you are?" she replied, her voice shaking, but defiant, guarding the secret she was too terrified to tell.

A harsh, mirthless laugh erupted from Garrus, echoing down the corridor and drawing the attention of a passing crew member. He stopped abruptly, his gaze hardening once more. "Then we can drop you off on the nearest desert planet."

Satima's breath caught in her throat. She stared at him, the tension between them visible. Garrus slapped her arm, a gesture meant to diffuse the moment but only deepened her unease. "Come on, I was just kidding."
She stood rooted in place, feeling utterly foolish as he brushed past her towards the mess area. Gathering her composure, she followed him, her voice barely above a whisper. "I knew that."

At the table, Garrus held a cup of dextro coffee as Satima seated herself on the opposite side. He took a deliberate sip, eyes never leaving hers.

"Are you gonna talk?" he prodded, his voice an unsettling blend of authority and impatience.

Satima's heart pounded in her chest. This ship was hostile territory. No one knew her, and she knew no one, save for Garrus and Liara, who had already made her life difficult. She couldn't even mention the Reaper.
Garrus leaned forward, his presence filling the space between them. "Well?" he prompted.

"I've piloted and captained a ship," Satima began, her voice steady despite her racing thoughts. "Fought a mechanized reaperfied assassin. Smuggled refugees off-world and been in quite a few scraps."

Garrus held up a hand, stopping her mid-sentence. "Whoa, slow down. How about something more detailed and less like a merc's resume?"

She took a deep breath, meeting his intense gaze. "I have training in hand-to-hand combat, melee, and firearms. I can pilot Class L and Class B ships, and provide technical backup on the field."

Garrus whistled, a low sound of approval. "Now that is a resume Shepard would approve of. That, and what you mentioned before."

Satima's lips twitched into a faint smile. She felt the blush creep up her cheeks, a mix of relief and lingering tension. "Thank you... sir," she mumbled awkwardly, unsure of the protocol.

Garrus nodded, his expression softening ever so slightly. "You're determined. I like that."

Minutes stretched into an uncomfortable silence as the tension in the room grew palpable. Garrus drained his cup of dextro coffee, the sound of it settling on the table echoing like a gavel in the quiet room. Just then, Shepard strode in, her expression as unreadable as her military attire was impeccable.

"We're heading back to the Citadel," she announced, her voice a blend of urgency and authority. "Received a message from the Salarian Councilor. He sounded... troubled. Something about Udina."

Garrus's mandibles twitched in what could only be interpreted as a smirk. "Udina? Think it has something to do with him being a potential security risk?"

Shepard's eyes narrowed, a flicker of surprise crossing her features. "How do you know this?"

Garrus shrugged, the movement deceptively casual. "I have my sources."

Shepard turned her attention to Satima, who was still seated, her anxiety barely masked by the facade of calm. "Satima, you're up for this mission. It should be straightforward enough for you to get a handle on things."

Heart pounding, Satima rose to her feet, the weight of the moment pressing down on her shoulders. "I'm ready," she declared, her voice steady with a resolve she hoped would mask her underlying excitement.

Garrus's approving nod was brief, but it spoke volumes. "Good. We move out in ten." Silence wrapped around them once more, but this time, it was charged with anticipation.
.....................................................................................
The Citadel

Inbound to the presidium.

The Citadel's Presidium was a warzone, the once pristine and orderly plaza now marred by the chaos of battle. Signs of firefights and battles littered the area, with shattered glass, smoking wreckage, and the fallen forms of both C-Sec officers and Cerberus operatives.

In the shuttle ride over, Shepard's voice rang with a blend of urgency and command. "Cerberus has attacked and partially taken over the station, particularly C-Sec Headquarters. We need to clear out the bastards to get to the men inside. Satima, you'll provide backup while Garrus and I clear a path."

Satima clutched her pistol, trying to quell her nerves. She wasn't scared of Cerberus; she had faced worse. But the weight of expectation from her team bore down on her, making every move feel critical.

As the shuttle hovered over the C-Sec docking hub, the hatch opened, revealing a group of beleaguered guards holding their ground against Cerberus troops. Shepard, Garrus, and Satima leapt out, taking cover behind a line of abandoned vehicles. Shepard took point, her movements swift and decisive.

"Watch out for snipers!" she yelled into her comms, her voice echoing in the confined space.

Garrus sprang into action, his eyes narrowing as he gauged the distance to their beleaguered allies. Cerberus soldiers formed a formidable line, ranging from typical ground fodder to those wielding massive metal shields.

Shepard's patience wore thin. She exchanged a glance with Garrus, who needed no further instruction. The small open window on the shielded troopers offered a single point of vulnerability. With a swift, precise motion, Garrus shouldered his Mantis sniper rifle and fired. He grinned as his shot hit its mark.

"One down!" Garrus shouted, his voice tinged with exhilaration.

Satima watched the scene unfold, her breath catching in her throat. The deadly efficiency of Shepard and Garrus was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. They were seasoned warriors, carving a path of destruction through their enemies.

As they advanced, a lone engineer emerged, a sinister grin spreading across his face. He dropped a square metal pod that quickly unfolded into a turret.

"GET DOWN!" Shepard screamed, her voice cutting through the chaos.

Bullets sprayed towards them, and Satima barely dodged a near miss. Garrus, ever the tactician, launched two proximity mines to weaken the turret's shields. The effort seemed futile, barely causing a dent. Steeling himself, Garrus stepped into the open, his omni-tool glowing as he unleashed an overload attack. The turret sputtered and convulsed.

Seizing the moment, Shepard stood and rained bullets upon the turret, her shots precise and relentless. The turret exploded in a fiery blaze, scattering the nearby Cerberus troopers. Garrus surged forward, taking advantage of the chaos to close the distance, his gun barking with lethal intent. Another enemy fell, but the battle was far from over.

As Satima provided suppression fire for Shepard, the desperate cries of a lone blonde human echoed through the chaos. He clutched his gut, where a crimson stain was spreading rapidly. It was a critical wound, and time was running out.

If they reached him in time, maybe they could prevent his demise. The air was thick with tension and sweat, a palpable sense of urgency driving every movement. Shepard's voice cut through the chaos, raw with desperation, as she yelled for the man to hold on. But hope seemed to dwindle with each passing second.

Five more troopers landed in front of them, their jump jets hissing with menacing efficiency. They moved with swift precision, creating an impenetrable blockade. Garrus, ever the sharpshooter, managed to take down two before having to duck and reload, the weight of the moment pressing down on him.

Satima’s heart pounded in her chest, each beat a deafening reminder of the critical seconds slipping away. The cries of the wounded man echoed in her ears, mingling with the sounds of gunfire and explosions. Every fiber of her being screamed for action, but the path was fraught with danger.

The hybrid’s gaze locked onto three more troopers silently flanking the man at the entrance. A cold wave of dread washed over her; there would be no chance of survival for him if they reached him first. With no time to hesitate, she darted from her cover, heart pounding in her chest. The battlefield noise dimmed, focusing her mind on the singular goal—reach them before it's too late. Ignoring the gaping vulnerability she left behind, she sprinted towards the troopers, each step a race against death.

Satima sprinted stealthily towards the three soldiers, her heart hammering in her chest. Every nerve in her body screamed caution, but she pushed forward, determined to save the wounded man. She kept low, hugging the wall, her eyes fixed on her targets. The soldiers surrounded the man, their laughter sinister and cold.

Satima knew she had to act fast.

"Well, Commander Bailey, looks like your usefulness is up. Time to die," the leader sneered, his voice dripping with malice.

Bailey clutched his side, trying to stem the flow of blood. He knew it wouldn't matter anyway. If Shepard didn't make it up those steps soon, he was a dead man.

As the leader was about to pull the trigger to Bailey's head, he yelled in pain. With a swift, determined motion, Satima hurled her knife, the blade finding its mark with lethal precision. The leader's sinister grin twisted into a grimace of pain as he clutched the back of his head, staggering before collapsing lifelessly to the ground. His rifle clattered away, its threat now neutralized.

The other two troopers aimed their weapons at Satima, their fingers tightening on the triggers. She moved with lightning speed, dodging the deadly bullets that whizzed past her. Her breath came in short, sharp bursts as she emerged from her cover, her eyes locked onto her targets. With unerring precision, she fired two shots, each one finding its mark in the center of the troopers' foreheads. Bailey let out a long whistle, disbelief and relief washing over him.

"Thanks, kid," Bailey said, leaning heavily against the wall, his voice a mixture of relief and gratitude. "I would've been kissing my mother in heaven or hell if you hadn't been here."

Shepard and Garrus sprinted up the steps, urgency driving every step. Bailey, albeit wounded, was still breathing. Shepard wasted no time, kneeling beside him and administering medi-gel with swift precision. Their eyes met Satima's, a silent acknowledgment of her daring rescue, while Garrus's gaze flicked between the lifeless troopers and their savior.

The tension in the air was visible, the battlefield's chaos still echoing around them. Shepard and Bailey exchanged hurried words, their voices a mix of relief and lingering anxiety, while Garrus kept a vigilant watch, his expression a mask of stoic determination.

His eyes flicked back to the fallen troopers, then locked onto Satima with a glint of intensity. "Impressive work. But next time, give us a heads-up before you go full assassin on us." His words were sharp, almost a reprimand, as he cast a stern glance before returning to Shepard's side.

Satima's heart sank momentarily as she caught the sharpness in Garrus's tone. She had hoped to impress both him and Shepard with her skills, but Garrus's words felt like a cold splash of water. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, and forced a small, confident smile.

"I'll keep that in mind, Garrus," she replied, her voice steady despite the slight tremor of disappointment. "Just wanted to make sure Bailey had a fighting chance."

Shepard glanced at Satima, giving her a nod of acknowledgment. "You did well, Satima. We couldn't have done it without you."

Garrus's stern expression softened slightly, his mandibles twitching in what could be interpreted as a grudging approval.

Bailey took a moment to let the medi-gel work its magic, easing the pain and sealing his wound. He glanced at Satima, then back at Shepard with a wry smile.

"You really saved my hide, Shepard. “I owe you one," he chuckled, a hint of pain still lacing his voice.

"No problem, Bailey. But what exactly went down here?" Shepard asked, crouching down to get a better look at him, concern etched on her face.
"Damn Cerberus! They hit hard and fast, no warning at all. We tried to hold them off, but you can see how that turned out," Bailey muttered, his gaze sweeping over the fallen troopers.

Shepard nodded sympathetically and stood up. She turned around to Satima, who was surveying the battlefield with a steely gaze. The three dead Cerberus soldiers lay in a neat row, a stark testament to her lethal efficiency. One of the soldiers lay face down, Satima's blade embedded in his helmet, a chilling reminder of her swift and deadly prowess.

The air was thick with tension as Shepard addressed her. "Satima, you did this?" she asked, her tone a mix of awe and suspicion.

Satima nodded slowly, her face a mask of controlled calm.

Bailey led them inside the lobby to the receptionist’s desk. He sat in the office chair at the computer, accessing C-Sec Presidium data. An ominous silence filled the air as he worked, his fingers flying over the keys with urgency. "Damn," he exclaimed, his expression darkening.

Shepard leaned over the edge of the counter. "What's wrong?"

Bailey clutched his side but continued his typing with one hand, his breaths coming in sharp, shallow bursts. "The salarian councilor has taken refuge in the executor's office. You'll need directions to it," he said, his voice strained but urgent.

Shepard nodded, her patience thin but controlled as she waited for Bailey's directions. Satima, scanned the lobby with a keen eye, her presence a silent reassurance. She chuckled quietly at the thought of joining C-Sec, imagining herself in a different life, playing the role of a law enforcer on this bustling station.

Shepard noticed Garrus’s mandible twitch with a mix of agitation and alertness. Did he sense her thoughts, or was something else grim and urgent simmering inside him?

A voice, smooth yet not turian, cut through the silence. Shepard recognized it instantly—Thane. As he relayed critical information, the room's tension thickened. Garrus's mandible twitched more frequently, a clear sign of his agitation and alertness. Shepard noticed his intense focus and responded with a determined nod.

Shepard cast a sharp glance at Garrus, sensing his unease. "Thane, are you sure about this?" she pressed, her voice barely masking the urgency.
Garrus leaned closer, his eyes narrowing. "What did Thane say, Shepard?" he asked, his tone edged with both concern and readiness.

Shepard's mind raced, processing Thane's intel. "We need to move, now," she declared, steeling herself for what was to come.

Satima's mind raced as she tried to piece together the connection between Shepard and Thane. The voice that cut through the tension was unfamiliar, yet it seemed to hold a weight of familiarity and urgency. She observed Shepard's reaction closely—every muscle tensed, her eyes sharp and focused, a clear indication that this Thane was someone of great significance.

Who was Thane to Shepard? A trusted ally? An old friend? Or perhaps something more complex and layered? Satima's curiosity mingled with a sense of professional detachment. She knew better than to let her mind wander too far, especially in situations fraught with danger.

Beginning their recon inside the damaged building, Shepard and her team moved with calculated precision. Two assault troopers stood across the hall, oblivious to the danger closing in on them. Shepard seized the perfect moment, unleashing a powerful biotic lash that sent one trooper crashing to the ground.

The other trooper turned, shouting as he fired his weapon wildly. His voice was abruptly silenced by the swift entrance of Satima's blade into his chest. With a casual grace, she withdrew the blade and wiped it clean, her expression unflinching.

Shepard's eyes followed Satima's movements, but before she could even process the scene, a sudden hail of gunfire erupted from across the room. Guardians had arrived, their weapons trained on Shepard and her team, the air thick with the smell of ozone and the sound of ricocheting bullets.

Garrus deftly used his mantis rifle to take down one of the remaining threats. Shepard, with precision and a hint of flair, dispatched another with her savage-looking pistol, its alien skull emblem a stark reminder of the battles they've fought.

Satima's eyes gleamed with envy as she noticed Shepard's pistol, a weapon both fierce and elegant. They moved forward with determination, only to encounter another turret blocking their path. With a swift combination of Garrus's overload and Shepard's precise shooting, they reduced the turret to a smoldering heap of metal slag.

Satima darted around a corner, her senses on high alert for any lurking threats. As they ascended further, they passed a terminal and an array of mod kits. Shepard's eyes gleamed with interest as she picked up one of the kits, examining it closely. With a satisfied smile, she attached it to her rifle, feeling a surge of confidence for the battles ahead.

Deeper in the room, four more troopers descended from the ceiling, crashing down with a thundering impact. Shepard's reflexes were lightning quick, her shots precise as she neutralized the immediate threat. Garrus, ever the strategist, took cover and unleashed a barrage of mines, creating a deadly perimeter around their foes. Satima, matching their intensity, fired in unison with Shepard, her movements sharp and deadly.

In a matter of moments, the enemies lay lifeless, the room falling eerily silent.

Inside the modest lobby of C-Sec headquarters, the atmosphere was tense. A female C-Sec officer lay face down on the cold metal floor, a pool of crimson blood spreading around her head. She had been ambushed, taken by surprise from behind, her fate a stark reminder of the dangers lurking within their own ranks.

"Inside job, like Mars. Cerberus sure likes their sleeper agents.", Shepard spat through gritted teeth, the fury barely contained in her voice.

"This feels more like a calculated strike than a mere execution. There are hardcore traitors within C-Sec, Shepard.", Garrus hissed, his voice laced with bitter fury.

"Keep it together, Garrus," Shepard commanded, her voice cold and sharp. "You can have your revenge when they attack. Deal?" Her eyes bore into his, unyielding and fierce.

They exchanged glances before he broke his glare. "Commander." His tone sounded calm, dangerously calm, like the stillness before a storm.

Once they cleared another room of centurions and a formidable guardian, Garrus sprinted into a dimly lit men's room, discovering another C-Sec agent's lifeless body sprawled on the floor. Shepard followed closely, with Satima right on her heels, her eyes wide with a mix of adrenaline and dread.

"Cerberus didn't even bother to drag him into the hall before killing him!" Garrus's angry glare burned through them both, his voice a low, menacing growl.

Garrus bolted out, his eyes sharp and determined, leading the charge to the next room. Suddenly, the intercom crackled to life, filling the air with a sense of urgency. A lone engineer was frantically working to sabotage the elevator controls. Shepard, with feline grace, began to sneak under the broken window, her every movement calculated. But before she could make her move, Garrus, driven by a fierce resolve, vaulted over the window sill, landing with a thud on the other side.

The engineer whirled around, eyes wide with panic, as Garrus slammed him against the wall. The impact echoed through the room, a brief gasp escaping the engineer's lips.

He tries to escape, only to be met with a gunshot to the head. Garrus opens the latch to the elevator controls, the door sliding open with a grating sound. As he vaults back over the window, Shepard stands in his path, her eyes blazing with determination.

"That's enough, Vakarian," Shepard's voice cut through the tension like a knife, her body an immovable force.

Garrus's mandibles flared with barely restrained fury, his breaths coming in sharp, ragged bursts. "You saw what Cerberus did! He didn't deserve any mercy!" His voice was a low growl, seething with anger. His fists clenched and unclenched as he paced, his gaze never leaving Shepard's steely eyes.

Shepard shook her head, her eyes narrowing with a mix of anger and disappointment. "That isn't what I'm talking about. He deserved what you gave him, but I need you to get your shit together. I know you're angry. I am too, but this is not the time to play Archangel. Do you understand?" Her voice was sharp, each word cutting through the thick tension like a blade.

Garrus's mandibles twitched as he fought to rein in his fury. "But Shepard, they—"

"No buts," Shepard interrupted, her tone brooking no argument. "We are a team. We need to act like one. I can't afford to have you going rogue at a time like this. Now, fall in line and remember what we're here to do."

Garrus's body tensed, his fists clenching tighter as he fought the raging turmoil inside him. His mandibles twitched as his eyes locked onto Shepard's, the seething fury slowly giving way to reluctant acceptance.

"Yes... Commander," he finally muttered, his voice strained and low, as if each word was a battle unto itself.

Shepard moved closer; her touch gentle but firm on Garrus's arm. "We can't afford to let our anger control us," she whispered, her voice a soothing balm against the fiery rage within him. "I need you to focus, Garrus. We're in this together."

Garrus's breaths were heavy, his chest rising and falling with the effort to contain his fury. His eyes, still burning with anger, met Shepard's steady gaze. "They betrayed my friends—killed them, Shepard. How can we just stand by?"

"We won't," she replied, her tone unwavering. "But we need to be smart about this. Rash actions will only play into their hands. Trust me, we'll make them pay—but on our terms."

As Garrus's resolve began to waver, Shepard noticed a movement out of the corner of her eye. Satima stood there, watching the exchange intently, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity. Shepard's eyes flicked to Satima and then back to Garrus, a silent message passing between them.

With a slight clearing of her throat, Shepard broke the tension. "Let's move forward. We have a mission to complete." She turned towards the elevator, her hand still resting on Garrus's arm, guiding him gently but firmly onward. They stepped into the elevator, the doors closing with a metallic hiss, leaving Satima to follow in their wake.

During the ride, Shepard's intercom crackled to life. It was Bailey. "Shepard. Any survivors?"

"No Bailey. Cerberus planted sleeper agents. No one had a chance," she replied, her voice tight with barely contained fury. She glanced to Garrus, who was meticulously inspecting his Mantis sniper rifle, the tension in his body evident.

Bailey's voice crackled through the intercom again, tension evident in his tone. "Damn it, Shepard. Are you sure there's no one left?"

"Positive," Shepard replied, her voice clipped and strained. "Cerberus didn't leave any survivors."

A heavy silence followed, punctuated only by the soft hum of the elevator as it descended. Shepard's eyes flicked to Garrus, who was still inspecting his sniper rifle with a fierce intensity, his jaw set in grim determination.

"Damn. Alright, Shepard. Do what you have to do," Bailey finally said, his voice resigned before the com went silent.

The next area was eerily silent, an unsettling calm after the storm of emotions. One of the doors struggled to open, its mechanism malfunctioning with an almost reluctant hiss. Satima approached the damaged panel with a determined glint in her eye. Shepard, ever vigilant, scanned the surroundings, picking up useful items while Garrus stood lost in a sea of memories, the weight of his loss heavy upon him.

With a sudden sharp spark, the panel bit back at Satima. "Ouch," she muttered, shaking her hand before swiftly refocusing on the task at hand. Determination sparkled in her eyes as she turned her attention to the terminal nearby.

Shepard couldn't help but admire the young girl's resilience. Satima's fingers danced over the controls with practiced precision, the door's malfunctioning hiss soon giving way to a smooth glide as it opened. Shepard watched, impressed by Satima's resourcefulness. It was clear that scavenging and survival were second nature to her.

Meanwhile, Garrus was pacing, his frustration visible. He found an open com channel, static crackling on the other end. Desperation laced his voice as he shouted, "Lamont! Mendez!" Their names echoed through the silence, but there was no reply. Shepard's gaze hardened as she urged him to be quiet, aware of the lurking danger.

"If they can't hear our gunfire, they can't hear this," Garrus retorted, his voice edged with defiance. Shepard's irritation flared, but she bit back her response as Garrus threw the com across the room in anger. Satima's heart ached for him; the betrayal he felt was something she understood all too well.

As they approached the Executor's office, Shepard and Garrus noticed two Cerberus soldiers standing guard, their attention focused on a c-sec sleeper agent who had outlived his usefulness. Shepard silently signaled to Garrus to ready his sniper rifle. With synchronized precision, they dispatched the guards with a couple of well-placed shots. Satima, watching the display of skill, couldn't help but be impressed by their efficiency and teamwork.

Once they navigated through the cafe, Cerberus soldiers swarmed the room. Weapons fire ricocheted off surfaces, shattering glass doors and windows in a chaotic symphony of destruction. With urgency, Satima dashed to a set of stairs descending in the middle of the lobby, using the cover to prevent troopers from flanking Shepard. Garrus swapped his mantis for the formidable M-76 Revenant, a devilish grin spreading across his face at the sight of the beautifully lethal weapon.

Peeking from cover, Garrus unleashed a burst of fire, the rounds spinning through the air in a deadly dance, cutting down Cerberus soldiers with ruthless efficiency. The deafening roar of his M-76 Revenant echoed through the room, a harbinger of doom for their enemies.

Shepard ducked behind the partition walls in the breakroom, her breath mixing with the tension in the air. The T.V. to her right crackled to life, broadcasting none other than Khalisah al-Jilani. The reporter's voice rang out with urgency as she covered C-Sec's daring attempt to reclaim the comm towers.

Khalisah swiftly looped her footage, urgently trying to contact other C-Sec officers for reinforcements. Shepard's mind raced; the stakes were high, and the councilor's safety hung in the balance. Every second counted, and she knew they were running out of time.

"We need to secure the councilor, now!" Shepard barked, her voice cutting through the din of battle. Adrenaline surged through her veins as she signaled for Garrus to follow her. The possibility of a coup was all too real, and they needed to find evidence and the conspirators before it was too late.

The last Cerberus trooper fell, clearing the area of any hostiles. The team quickly ran up the stairs, opened the door to the office, only to find the executor dead. A sense of urgency filled the air as they realized the gravity of the situation.

Garrus raised a plated brow, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. "Well, this just keeps getting better," he muttered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Bailey, they got the executor and two of his bodyguards," Shepard reported, her voice taut with urgency.

"Damn. Alright, keep searching. If you don't see the councilor’s body, don't count him out yet," Bailey's voice crackled with tension over the com.

Suddenly, Shepard and Garrus noticed a faint shimmer moving through the workstation below. They immediately sensed the hidden presence—it's the councilor! He had been cloaked the whole time, staying out of sight amidst the chaos.

"Over there! Look!" she shouted, her voice sharp and urgent.

Garrus hoisted his rifle over his shoulder, a sly grin spreading across his face. "Well, looks like we've got ourselves a slippery one," he said, his tone dripping with amusement.

"Found him! He looks unharmed," Shepard urgently reported to Bailey, her eyes never leaving the shimmering figure of the councilor.

"Get him somewhere safe!" Bailey's reply crackled through the com, his voice laden with relief and urgency.

Satima's heart raced as the realization that the councilor was still alive sank in. Garrus moved swiftly, his keen eyes scanning the room for any signs of additional threats. Shepard, her focus unwavering, continued to survey the area through the shattered window. She gestured for Satima to join her, unaware of the strange blur that had begun to materialize in the shadows.

In the distance, Satima's sharp eyes spotted a shadowy figure gracefully landing on a beam. The figure moved with a predator's stealth, silently making its way down, surprising both the councilor and Satima. Shepard's keen instincts caught Satima's startled expression, her senses now on high alert.

Shepard's pulse quickened as she glanced behind her, spotting the ominous figure stealthily approaching the councilor. Without a moment's hesitation, she shot out the window glass and leapt through the shattering fragments, landing with agile precision, ready for the impending confrontation.

The assassin swiftly leaped behind the terrified salarian councilor, his biotic powers crackling with dangerous energy. Satima's eyes widened as she recognized the cybernetic enhancements on his body—a Phantom-class frame, eerily reminiscent of Archer's. Fear gripped her as she pondered if the true enemy was not the Reapers, but something far more sinister lurking in the shadows.

Shepard advanced cautiously, her rifle aimed steadily at the assassin. His dark hair shimmered ominously in the dim light as he circled the trembling salarian. "Don't even think about it," she commanded, her voice a low, dangerous growl.

The councilor whispered urgently, "Shepard, he's going to kill us all!"

"That remains to be seen," Shepard replied, her voice taut with tension as she kept her rifle trained on the assassin.

Satima and Garrus moved stealthily down the stairs, their weapons at the ready, eyes locked on the assassin. The tension was palpable as they joined Shepard, the three forming a united front against the looming threat.

"No! I mean Udina! He's staging a coup and has the other councilors now. To hand over to Cerberus!" The salarian councilor's voice trembled as he held his hands in the air, his eyes wide with fear.

"Shit.", Shepard thought.

Garrus and Satima pointed their weapons toward the assassin, their eyes locked on the target. Shepard's voice cut through the tension, sharp and commanding. "Three on one, pal. It's over."

The assassin's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with a predatory glint. He glanced at the strange alien girl with the turian, and a chilling realization dawned. "No. Now it's fun."

A sharp click echoed through the room as a sleek, brown-leather-clad drell took aim. His presence was commanding, and Shepard instantly recognized him. Thane.

The drell in brown leather trained his weapon on the assassin's head, the air thick with impending violence. A fierce exchange of martial arts ensued, each blow echoing with lethal intent. The assassin, with a swift motion, grappled Thane and hurled him over his shoulder, smashing him onto the floor with brutal force.

Shepard could see the fear in Thane's eyes. His movements, once fluid and swift, now seemed labored, each step a testament to his weakening condition. Yet, determination burned brightly within him, refusing to yield.
The room's atmosphere thickened with anticipation as the assassin and Thane faced off, their lives hanging in a delicate balance.

Despite his medical disadvantage, Thane immediately stands back up, his eyes burning with determination. He fires his pistol at the assassin, each shot echoing with desperation. The cybernetic menace suddenly disappears, cloaking himself in an almost eerie silence.

Satima's instincts kicked in as she stealthily slipped away, her eyes scanning for any sign of the assassin. She knew that her training and expertise in close-quarters combat would be crucial in this fight. Suddenly, the assassin reappeared behind Thane, a gleaming katana in hand, ready to deliver a lethal strike.

With a burst of adrenaline, the assassin charged toward Thane, who, despite his labored breaths and waning strength, fired his weapon in rapid succession. The shots echoed through the chamber, but the assassin's agility was unmatched as he weaved between desks and leaped with predatory grace. Closing the distance, he struck with a swift, deadly arc of his blade.

Thane expertly dodges the assassin's initial strike, delivering a series of powerful kicks followed by a swift biotic blow that sends his opponent sprawling across the room. A triumphant grin spreads across Thane's face as he bends to retrieve his pistol, loading a fresh thermal clip with a determined click. He raises the weapon once more, its barrel trained unerringly on the assassin.

Satima watches, hoping to learn something from this aged master hitman. That young amateur hasn't a prayer. Shepard and Garrus keep a close eye on the scene while protecting the councilor. She has no doubt Thane can take care of this hired merc.

Satima's eyes darted between Thane and the assassin, her heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and dread. Every muscle in her body tensed, ready to spring into action. Shepard and Garrus remained vigilant, their weapons trained on any potential threat, but the weight of the moment rested on Thane's shoulders.

The assassin moved with a fluid grace, every motion calculated and deadly. Thane matched him blow for blow, his determination as sharp as his strikes. Satima held her breath, silently praying for Thane's victory, yet a gnawing fear clawed at her insides.

But the assassin was relentless, his agility and precision a terrifying display. As the two combatants clashed, the room seemed to shrink, the air thickening with the promise of violence. Satima's grip tightened on her weapon, her instincts screaming for her to intervene, but she forced herself to stay back, trusting in Thane's skill.

Then the unthinkable happened.

The assassin backflipped onto his feet with cat-like agility, his eyes locked onto Thane. In a blur, he charged forward, his katana gleaming ominously in the dim light. Thane, equally swift, raised his pistol and fired off a volley of shots. The sound of gunfire echoed through the chamber, but the assassin was unrelenting, weaving through the barrage with a deadly grace.

The assassin assumes a strike stance, forcing Thane to leap desperately to avoid a fatal blow. He tricked Thane, ready to plunge his katana through him. The Cerberus assassin smirks, only to yelp in pain as Satima suddenly lunges forward, her blade piercing his shoulder.

Thane drops his pistol, gripping the hilt of the katana over the assassin's hands, desperately trying to twist the blade towards his foe. But the assassin, with a surge of brutal strength, throws Thane backward, sending him crashing to the floor. Before Thane can recover, the cybernetic merc thrusts the blade into his chest, pulling it out with a cruel twist and sheathing it in a cold, victorious motion.

"Thane!" Shepard shouts, his voice cracking with urgency.

Satima watches in personal horror. She had hesitated, her breath caught in her throat, to allow the drell his triumph, only to witness a brutal defeat.

With a fierce determination, Shepard opens fire on the assassin as he bolts down the stairs, his movements a blur of speed and agility. The assassin leaps to the bottom, narrowly dodging the hail of bullets, and makes a beeline for a waiting sky car.

Hot on the assassin's heels, Shepard fires more rounds, her heart racing as she watches him narrowly escape. Thane, severely injured but fueled by determination, fires his weapon alongside her. His body slumps against the wall, barely able to stay conscious from his grievous wound.

Shepard rushes to Thane, her heart pounding in her chest. "How bad is it?" she asks, her voice shaky as she presses her hand against the wound, trying to stem the flow of blood.

Thane coughs, his strength fading rapidly. "I have time. Catch him." he urges, his voice strained and desperate.

Shepard's omni-tool lights up with an incoming com call. It's Bailey, his voice urgent. "Shepard? What's going on?"

"Thane needs medical help fast, and I need to take care of an assassin," Shepard says urgently, gripping Thane's hand as she informs the captain.

"He must be going after the rest of the council. You've got to catch him, Shepard, before it's too late!" Bailey's voice crackled with urgency.
If the council went down, the citadel goes with it.

Shepard strides with urgency toward a sky car, her mind racing. "Get the word out. Udina is trying to seize power. I've got to get to the councilors before it's too late."

Garrus and Satima race down the stairs after Shepard, their hearts pounding with fear and determination. The hybrid catches a glance at the dying Thane, who manages a nod, a silent thank you for her attempt to help. Satima quickly looks away, her guilt gnawing at her insides, but there's no time to dwell on it now.

A burst of static crackled through the comms. "They're being taken to a shuttle pad on the Presidium. Start driving, and I'll try to raise them on comms... make it there fast," Bailey's voice cut through the noise with an urgency that sent a chill down Shepard's spine.

Satima sat behind Shepard, clutching the edges of her seat as the hover car sped through the cityscape, weaving through traffic in a desperate chase. Her heart pounded, matching the intensity of the situation. The assassin was dangerously close to accomplishing his lethal mission, and every second counted.

Shepard's eyes were fixed ahead, her determination unwavering. "Hold on tight," she muttered, her voice a mixture of resolve and tension. Satima could see the fierce concentration on Shepard's face, knowing that they were racing against time to save the councilors.

"I've pinpointed the council's location and transmitted it to your car," Bailey's voice crackled through the omni-tool, the urgency palpable.

"Good work, Bailey. We're almost there," Shepard said, as the hover car streaked past deserted shops, the flames from the lower levels casting eerie shadows on the silvery lake below.

At that moment, the assassin lands heavily on the hood, his eyes locking with Shepard's in a deadly stare. He had been trailing them, intercepting their comms. A shock of realization courses through Shepard as she frantically fires at the glass shield. The assassin, undeterred, brandishes his bloodied katana with an eerie calm, vaulting over the car roof toward the engine core.

With a swift motion, Shepard flung the door open and leaned out, her weapon ready, while Garrus took the controls. The wind whipped around her as the hover car sped onward, the urgency of their mission heightening every sense.

With lightning reflexes, the assassin deflects Shepard's gunshots using a quick shield, then thrusts his katana into the engine, causing an emergency shutdown. Shepard glares at him, fury etched on her face, as he smirks and escapes by leaping into another sky car, vanishing into the chaos once more.

Shepard and her team crash-land the sky car into a bustling apartment courtyard, the engine's fiery glow casting an ominous light on the scene. The car skids to a halt, leaving a trail of scorched floor in its wake. Shepard, wincing from the impact, leaps out with unwavering resolve, followed closely by Garrus and Satima, their weapons ready.

"Shepard! My terminal says your car has stopped?" Bailey's voice blares over a screaming woman running for safety. Panic filled the air, every second stretching into an eternity.

"I'm on foot now! Any luck getting through to the councilors?" Shepard shouted over the cacophony of chaos, firing a well-aimed shot that took down a Cerberus trooper.

"Negative, their guards are dead. But we still have vital signs on the council's transponders," Bailey's voice crackled with urgency.

Shepard opens fire on a squad of Cerberus soldiers. Her heart raced as Garrus swiftly sniped two down with precision. "Where are they going?" Shepard demanded urgently, her voice sharp with intensity, asking Bailey as she reloaded her weapon with a trembling hand.

"The plaza. Udina's with them," Bailey's voice was strained with fear. "I hope you can get to them. Shepard, if he gets them in range of that assassin... this is all over." The com crackled off abruptly.

"I'm on my way," Shepard responds, her voice edged with urgency.

Satima shoots a trooper sneaking around them. Then she spots something in the distance that reflects the light, her heart pounding with sudden haste.

"Did any of you see that?" she asks, her voice tinged with curiosity.

With a hard stare, Shepard spots a new type of Cerberus soldier uncloaking and charging toward her. The figure, a female wielding a katana, moves with lethal grace. "Watch out, it can cloak!" Shepard shouts, her voice cutting through the chaos.

Three more troopers were dropped off by a shuttle, and Shepard shot them down with quick, precise bursts. "Snipers!" Garrus yelled urgently, his voice cutting through the din of battle.

Red lasers cut through the air around them, the high-pitched whine of a primed weapon echoing across the broken railed walkway. Shepard ducked for cover against the wall, her heart pounding in her chest.
Garrus took aim with his mantis sniper rifle, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the target. With a swift, precise shot, he brought down the enemy sniper. "One down," he said with a satisfied smirk.

Satima leaped over the walkway, her heart hammering in her chest, with Shepard and Garrus hot on her heels. Every muscle in her body tensed as she heard a rustle behind one of the few sky cars sitting idle. Shepard powered ahead, her eyes sharp and movements cautious with each turn. The shadows seemed to breathe, and every step felt like a dance with danger.

At that moment, a phantom uncloaked in front of Shepard, its presence a sudden and deadly menace. The figure darted away from her weapon's fire with uncanny agility. "They don't like to hold still, do they?" Garrus quipped, his voice tinged with a mix of tension and dry humor, as he fired his rifle with unwavering precision. The air crackled with the intensity of the battle.

Shepard threw a lift grenade ahead of the phantom, who landed precariously close to it. The grenade exploded, sending hot shrapnel tearing into the assassin's body armor. With a pained moan, the phantom fell dead.

Satima checked her weapon, her breath quickening as she felt the weight of the impending confrontation. With a quick, fluid motion, she attached it to her armor's magnetic cling system. The smaller blades strapped to her side would have to suffice if things went south, but the katana felt like a reassuring promise of survival.

A sudden movement caught her eye. A trooper emerged, aiming to strike Shepard with a taser baton. Satima's heart pounded as she swiftly drew a blade, her eyes narrowing with deadly focus. With a precise throw, the blade found its mark in the trooper's chest, dropping him instantly.

"They sealed it behind them!" Garrus shouted, urgency and frustration evident in his voice. The door in front was locked tight, and the seconds felt like hours as Shepard assessed their options. Hacking through could take too long, and the enemy was closing in.

Shepard's eyes darted around, every second of hesitation costing them precious time. The tension in the air was palpable as she sought an alternative route. Suddenly, her gaze locked onto an opening through a balcony of flowers and grass. A small lawn led to a keeper walkway. The metal bridge, broken in half and blazing with fire, seemed like a perilous but necessary risk.

Without a moment's hesitation, Shepard sprinted towards the balcony, her heart pounding in rhythm with her steps. She leapt over the gap with a surge of determination, landing safely on the other side. Garrus and Satima followed closely behind, their breaths heavy with exertion.

They continued their short, tense trek to the other side of the presidium's many shops, every sense heightened, every movement calculated.
The team pressed on, the silence around them broken only by the distant sounds of combat. Suddenly, Satima's sharp eyes caught a subtle distortion in the shadows of the darkened hall. She hesitated, her instincts screaming a warning. Shepard and Garrus continued forward, unaware of the looming threat.

"Something's not right," Satima muttered, her voice barely a whisper as she tightened her grip on her blade. Every nerve in her body was on high alert, the tension mounting with each step she took to catch up to her comrades.

Gunfire echoed from their location. Satima's heart raced as she knelt in front of the tiny singularity, her breath catching in her throat. It dissipated as quickly as it appeared, leaving her on edge and hyper-aware of the looming threat.

A dangerous feeling gripped her senses, every nerve screaming in warning. There was no time for hesitation. Shepard needed her help with this council and that assassin first.

As Satima began to stand, a cold, metal hand suddenly clamped onto her shoulder, swinging her down against the grated floor with brutal force. Her vision blurred as her head slammed into the metal. Dazed and disoriented, she looked up to see a figure from her nightmares, a terrifying specter of what might come.

"Nice to see you again, Satima," Archer glared with his neon blue eyes at her. A chill ran down Satima's spine, her hands trembling as she tightened her grip on the katana and pistol. Her heart pounded wildly, fear clawing at her insides as the memories of their previous encounters flooded her mind. The sinister smile on Archer's face only magnified her dread, each step he took echoing her deepest nightmares.

Archer's laugh resonated menacingly through the corridor. "Here you are! Right in the heart of the galaxy," his cybernetic voice growled. "The Sentarians feared what you might do, but they never guessed you'd run back to Reaper." His gaze, cold and calculating, locked onto Satima as he began to circle her, each step deliberate and predatory. The tension in the air tightened like a noose, every movement a reminder of the deadly game they were playing.

Satima's eyes widened in horror and disbelief as she found herself face-to-face with Archer. He stood before her, looking more menacing than ever, the damage from their last encounter now repaired and healed. His presence was a chilling reminder of the threat he posed, a specter of her darkest fears brought to life. The cold, calculated gleam in Archer's eyes made it clear—he was here to stop her, no matter the cost.

Satima's grip tightened on the pistol, her voice a low growl. "Her name is Shepard, not Reaper."

Archer's grin twisted into a sinister smirk, his eyes glinting with malevolence. "How pathetic. Clinging to fleeting moments with your precious Shepard before she becomes another pawn of fate." He leaned closer, his breath cold against her ear, "You can't escape destiny, Satima."

Satima lunged towards him, her katana slicing the air with lethal precision, but the blade merely grazed his armored chest. Archer's swift retaliation knocked her sideways, sending her teetering on the edge of the bridge. Below, the abyss yawned menacingly.

"How did you get here?" Satima's voice trembled as she faced his sinister gaze, every fiber of her being screaming for an answer while the danger loomed ever closer.

"I followed them," he revealed, his voice dripping with malice.
Satima's eyes darted, heart pounding in her chest. Archer's neon blue gaze scanned the surroundings, his presence radiating menace. "Reaper is avoiding interference with this timeline," he sneered, his voice a low growl. "She's hiding in the farthest systems. I commandeered one of their ships and tracked the whispers here."

"Does she know where I am?" Satima's voice quivered with a mixture of fear and defiance.

Archer's expression twisted with cruel delight. "Perhaps?" he replied, his grin widening. "She will find you, sooner or later."

Satima's heart pounded like a war drum in her chest. She felt the cold, sharp edge of the katana against her palm, her eyes darting for an escape. Archer's menacing form loomed closer, his predatory grin widening with each step. She had seconds to decide.

Adrenaline coursed through her veins, and time seemed to stretch endlessly. Her gaze flicked to the edge of the walkway. Below, the lights of the city blurred into a dizzying abyss. It was her only chance.

With a final, defiant look at Archer, she held her breath and made the split-second decision. Satima hurled herself off the walkway, the wind tearing at her as she plummeted into the unknown. Archer's roar of frustration echoed behind her, but she was already falling, her fate sealed by her desperate choice.

She fell far before landing on a sky car. Her weight slammed into the metal roof, and the glass windows shattered at her sudden stop, bowing out the door. Satima lay there, bruised and unable to move. Time seemed to slow as she tumbled off the hood onto the glossy floor below.

Her armor registered many injuries to her omni-tool, and Satima found her two middle fingers were broken on the hand she had used the pistol with. Wherever it might be, she had lost it in the fall.

Pain exploded through her body with every shallow breath. Her head throbbed, vision blurred with tears and the remnants of shattered glass. Her ribs ached, each jolt of pain a reminder of her desperate leap. Blood trickled from a gash on her forehead, painting her face in crimson streaks.

Adrenaline coursed through Satima's veins, keeping her conscious as she fought to assess her surroundings. The near-death experience had left her disoriented, her body screaming in protest with every attempted movement. She was alive, but only just. Every sensation, every twitch of muscle, was a testament to her will to survive, to keep fighting even as the darkness threatened to consume her. Satima knew that giving in to the pain was not an option, for the danger was far from over.

Setting the katana down, Satima took a deep breath and prepared herself for what she had to do next. Her fingers were dislocated from the fall, and she knew she couldn't afford to stay helpless. With a grim determination, she grabbed her dislocated fingers and pulled hard to set them straight.

She yelled loudly, the pain searing through her hand like a hot iron. Her vision blurred momentarily, and tears sprung to her eyes, but she didn't let go until she felt the bones snap back into place. Only then did she allow herself a moment of whimpering, her breath shaky as she fought against the waves of agony coursing through her body. She took another deep breath, willing herself to push through the pain. There was no time to be weak.

Around her, shops blazed in infernal flames, people screamed in terror, and gunfire erupted, masking any sounds of approaching enemies. Archer could be lurking anywhere. Satima moved cautiously through the chaos, every muscle tensed, gripping the katana in her good hand as she checked every corner, her heart pounding with the fear of what might lie ahead.

As she navigated the chaos, a glass bottle filled with green sand rolled ominously before her, casting eerie shadows in the flickering firelight. She tensed, every nerve on edge, but found no immediate threat. The silence was suffocating, a prelude to the storm.

Archer landed silently behind her, a phantom of menace in the inferno.
Satima carefully scanned her surroundings when she turned, only to be met with a sudden, crushing blow to her gut. The force knocked the wind out of her, leaving her gasping in shock. She barely had a moment to recover before Archer's iron grip closed around her throat, lifting her off the ground. Her feet kicked desperately, searching for a semblance of support, but there was none. The cold, unyielding pressure of his hand tightened, her vision dimming slightly at the edges as she fought against the encroaching darkness.

"I had hoped to bring you back in one piece," Archer growled, his voice dripping with menace. "But if you continue to resist, you'll come along as a broken husk!"

Satima widened her eyes in a surge of adrenaline, her heart pounding in her chest. Desperation gave her strength as she clutched her katana, now more of a burden than a weapon. With a guttural scream, she drove the blade into Archer's left shoulder, a weak point in his otherwise impenetrable design. The metal gave way with a sickening crunch, and Archer's grip loosened just enough for her to slip free. She fell to the ground, gasping for breath, her body screaming in agony. But there was no time to dwell on the pain; survival was all that mattered.

Satima darted through the fiery chaos, her heart pounding in her chest. Each step was a desperate gamble, her mind racing with the terrifying realization that Archer was only a breath away. She could feel his rage burning through the thick smoke, an unrelenting predator on her heels.
She knew she had to outmaneuver him, to find a way to survive this brutal chase. Every corner she turned, every shadow she melted into, was a silent prayer for a moment's reprieve. But Archer was relentless, his heavy footsteps echoing like the toll of a doom-filled bell.

In the heart of the inferno, Satima's world narrowed to the immediate instinct of survival, each second fraught with the tension of imminent capture.

He smashed the glass out of any remaining windows, violently kicking debris aside, some of it even colliding with Satima. Finally, she stood cornered, facing a tightly shut door, with nowhere left to run.

Archer loomed behind her, his ominous presence sending a shiver down her spine. Satima had no choice but to fight with her bare hands, knowing it was a desperate gambit against such a formidable opponent. She leaped at him with all her might, delivering two powerful blows to his metal face, each strike resonating with a hollow clang.

Archer stepped back momentarily, his eyes narrowing as he gauged her next move. Satima's breaths came in ragged gasps, her body screaming in agony but her spirit unbroken. She twisted her body with a surge of adrenaline, aiming a fierce kick at Archer's knee. The blow landed, but Archer barely flinched, his metallic frame absorbing the impact.

As Satima prepared for another assault, Archer countered with lightning speed, seizing her arm and twisting it with a bone-chilling snap. A powerful blow to her gut followed, sending her crashing to the floor with a force that left her vision swimming.

She clawed at the ground, desperately trying to escape the relentless force of Archer's boot pressing into her back. "Your resistance is over, hybrid," Archer hissed, his voice cold and merciless. "It's time you surrender to the directive."

Satima braced herself for the crushing blow, but as moments passed, a new sound pierced the chaos—a struggle. She twisted her head just in time to see Archer being pulled back through a singularity rift. His eyes locked onto hers with a vengeful fury, his hand reaching out in a desperate attempt to grasp her. But the force of the rift was too strong, and with a final, haunting glare, he was sucked into the void, disappearing completely. Alarms blared distantly as Satima's vision darkened, her body finally succumbing to unconsciousness.

Satima jolted awake, pain shooting through her body. The nightmares had been too real, the echoes of Archer's relentless pursuit still vivid in her mind. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself onto all fours, her suit's sensors bombarding her with injury alerts. Every movement was agony, but she couldn't afford to rest.

Satima's gaze followed to a half-broken bench overlooking a garden, its vibrant blooms now engulfed in flames. The once serene scene was now a tumultuous chaos, mirroring the turmoil within her.

She forced herself to her feet, every muscle screaming in pain, and stumbled towards the bench. Sitting down gently, she winced as the reality of her situation settled in. Her mind raced with questions, the most pressing one being how long she'd been out and whether Shepard had managed to save the council in time.

The fact that Archer could now appear through a portal rift at any moment had torn a gaping hole in her plans. He could come at any time, in any place—even aboard the Normandy.

A sound of scuffling feet pulled her from her thoughts. Emerging from a sealed door, two asari women appeared, their hands trembling with fright. Upon seeing Satima, one of them rushed over, her eyes wide with concern. "By the goddess, are you alright? Delana, look at her!"
Delana approached hesitantly; her gaze filled with worry. "I'll call for an ambulance."

Satima waved her hand dismissively, mustering as much strength as she could. "No... no. I mean, I'm okay. Just send a message to this coded number." She transmitted the code to Delana, who quickly made her way to a nearby, undamaged terminal.

............................................................................
Much had transpired while Satima lay in the dark grip of unconsciousness. Shepard’s mission to reach the council had been a race against time, yet she had succeeded. The assassin, ever elusive, had vanished like a specter, erasing all traces of his presence. He was a ghost in the shadows, leaving behind nothing but questions and the chill of fear.

In her groggy state, Satima learned from the concerned asari that Shepard had managed to save the council, a small beacon of hope amidst the chaos. Bailey had even congratulated Shepard, though the victory was tinged with the bitter reality of their relentless enemy.

As Satima reflected on this fleeting moment of respite, her thoughts were interrupted by the pressing urgency of the situation. The assassin’s vanishing act and the council’s survival were mingled with the grim reminder that their foe was still out there, watching, waiting to strike again.

Determined to contribute despite her injuries, Satima knew she couldn’t afford to remain passive. She had to prepare for whatever lay ahead, for the battle was far from over. Her thoughts were interrupted as the skycar ambulance arrived per her new asari acquaintances' request.
……………………...............................................................
Inside Bailey's office, Shepard discussed the reports of the Cerberus coup.

"We scoured every inch of those tunnels, Shepard. Your Cerberus buddy is like a phantom, slipping through our fingers," Bailey muttered, trying to ease into his chair. A sharp pang in his gut reminded him that comfort was a luxury he couldn't afford right now.

"He thrives on the thrill of the chase. We'll cross paths with him again, no doubt about it," Shepard asserted confidently.

"Pardon me if I'm not reassured by that," Bailey remarked with a dry chuckle. The elusive assassin had everyone on edge, and the council's incessant demands for enhanced security only fueled his frustration. Bailey could almost picture himself begrudgingly escorting councilors to their opulent quarters, ensuring their comfort in the most mundane of tasks. The mere thought was enough to make him shiver with a mix of dread and resignation.

Returning to the original conversation, Bailey sighed. "We can't even get an ID on him. He deployed a VI into the Citadel's system, erasing all footage of his movements. It's almost as if he anticipated Udina's plan might fall apart and wanted to cover his tracks."

Shepard couldn't help but chuckle at the thought. Udina had always been a pretentious, self-serving bureaucrat. From the very beginning, he had grated on her nerves. She could only imagine the satisfaction Anderson must have felt when he finally punched Udina those few years ago, during the early days of their fight against Saren. It would have been worth every second of the wait.

Bailey proceeded with his debriefing of the current events, his voice heavy with concern. "That reminds me—we got your friend Thane to Huerta Memorial. He's in for surgery. Apparently, there are... complications."

Shepard unfolded her hands from behind her back, her eyes betraying a deep worry. "Do you think he'll make it?" she asked softly, her voice tinged with anxiety.

Bailey glanced away, his expression grim. "They didn't have much drell blood on the Citadel. I informed Thane's son, Kolyat. He was the right blood type, but I'm not sure if he made it in time. The route to the hospital is supposed to be safe from Cerberus. If you want to see him, you should go now."

Shepard makes a weak smile," Thanks Bailey, I'll get on it."

Before Shepard starts to leave Bailey speaks again. "You can tell him the salarian councilor thinks he's a hero. Just to...I don't know, make things easier for him."

Shepard nods and walks out the door, her mind racing with worry. She steps down the stairs, her pace quickening as she heads for the elevator when Khalisah al-Jilani abruptly starts shouting at her. "Commander Shepard! Commander, the people of the Alliance have questions."

Shepard begrudgingly approaches her.

"Commander Shepard! Isn't true you were on earth when the reapers attacked?", Khalisah pointed her finger in Shepard's face in an accusing manner. "How do you justify running away while millions of people on earth are dying? Is that the best we can expect from the Alliance?"

Shepard clenched her fists in frustration. This must end. People need hope, not smear jobs on the very persons who are trying to save them."I came to get help for earth. For everyone.", she glared at Khalisah.

Khalisah blurted more angry words back at her. "What about all the people suffering while you play politics with the council? What about them?", she looked down with a defeated gaze. "How can you stand there while our families die? What are you going to do?" Her voice started to break.

Shepard put a hand on her shoulder, her expression grave with sympathy. "Khalisah, we're doing everything we can."

Khalisah didn't flinch or budge. She stood closer to Shepard accepting the friendly gesture. "Before they cut the feeds...there were so many dead."

"I'm going to stop the reapers or die trying, but I need your help.", Shepard lifted her hand off the reporter's shoulder. "Keep asking the hard questions. Don't let the council forget earth."

Khalisah looked relieved, "I will. Thank you, Commander." Before walking away, she turned facing Shepard again. "I'm glad you're on our side."

The reporter and her persistent camera finally moved on, leaving Shepard to exhale in a mixture of frustration and determination. "I've always had your back," she thought, shaking her head.

Shepard departed the embassy for the hospital, the weight of her burdens pressing heavier with each step. As she descended in the elevator, her communicator chimed, and Garrus's voice resonated through the silence.

"Shepard, when you're done at the hospital, come by the Normandy. And tell Thane... he's one hell of a hero and a good friend."

Shepard closed the comms, a gnawing worry settling in her chest. Where had Satima disappeared to? Garrus's call must have been about her. A haunting sense of regret washed over Shepard, one she couldn't shake off, especially with Thane's condition weighing heavily on her mind.

"I hope you make it old friend.", she whispered a silent prayer.

Chapter Text

Thane's death struck Shepard with a profound sense of sorrow, deepening the heavy shadow already cast over her spirit.

"Kalahira, mistress of inscrutable depths, I ask forgiveness..."

Shepard's gauntleted fist connected with the cold metal of the wall, a dull thud echoing through the cabin. Pain radiated up her arm, but it was a mere whisper against the storm of grief and frustration that raged within her. She didn't care if her hand broke; the physical pain was a welcome distraction from the gnawing void Thane's death had left in her heart.

"I'm sorry, Shepard. I thought I could save him." Satima's message replayed in her mind, each word a haunting reminder of her failure. The weight of Thane's death pressed down on her shoulders like a shroud of sorrow.

Shepard forced herself to sit on the edge of the couch, her mind a tumult of sorrow and regret. Sitting comfortably seemed a luxury she no longer deserved. The door to her cabin opened, and Liara entered softly, her presence a quiet balm to Shepard's wounded spirit.

Her friend was in pain. A defeated posture occupied the space of the couch, casting a long shadow over the dimly lit room.

"I'm sorry about Thane, Shepard," Liara's voice was soft, laden with shared grief. She took a step closer, her eyes lingering on the dent in the wall. It wasn't like Shepard to let her anger spill over into violence, but grief has a way of breaking the strongest walls. "How is his son doing?"
The question hung in the air, a poignant reminder of the fragile bonds left in the wake of loss.

Shepard leaned forward, her face buried in her gauntlet-clad hands. "Kolyat... he's coping. He found some semblance of peace with his father's death long before that assassin came for Thane," she murmured, her voice a fragile whisper that barely pierced the heavy air of the cabin.

She nodded, "Well, that's something, I suppose. Finding peace before your time." The asari cleared her throat. "Shepard... some of us are worried about you. You bear an immense burden, and with this new member on board, it must be exhausting to shoulder the weight of command. Just remember, we are here for you," Liara murmured, her hand resting gently on Shepard's arm, a quiet gesture of support amidst the pervasive gloom.

Shepard's eyes flickered with curiosity. "Thanks, Liara. Speaking of which, I got back pretty late from the Citadel after Garrus's message. What's going on?"

Liara glanced towards Shepard, her expression thoughtful. "Well, Garrus brought Satima back. She's in the med bay right now. I heard she single-handedly took on Cerberus and paid the price. I have a feeling you'll want to have a word with her about vanishing mid-mission and reappearing hours later."

Shepard's interest piqued as she leaned forward. "Yeah, that raises a pretty important question."

They both left the cabin, the silent connection between them speaking volumes. As they approached the med bay, the atmosphere grew heavier with anticipatory tension. Inside, Chakwas was meticulously finishing the sling around Satima's arm. The door slid open with a soft hiss, drawing Satima's eyes upward.

Shepard's presence filled the room with visible intensity, her annoyance barely concealed beneath her steely demeanor. Satima's gaze met Shepard's, a mixture of apprehension and resolution flickering in her eyes. The unspoken words between them were as loud as the ship's engines, and the air crackled with the weight of impending confrontation.
The med bay, usually a sanctuary of healing, now felt like a battleground where words would be the weapons. Shepard stepped forward, each step echoing with unyielding purpose.

"I see you're doing better. Now, tell me, how did you really get those bruises on your face, and that broken arm?" Shepard's voice was low, a dangerous edge lurking beneath her words.

Satima's eyes darted to the doctor, who had moved away to the med table. She then turned back to Shepard, her expression a tumultuous mix of defiance and weariness. "I took on more than I could handle," she admitted, her voice laced with a hint of desperation and resolve.

Shepard's eyes narrowed, her patience wearing thin. "And why on earth did you think it was acceptable to abandon the mission? Were you trying to prove something to me? Because if that was your plan, you’ve failed spectacularly."

With a sudden sense of urgency, Garrus walked in, his eyes scanning the room, catching the raised voices of Shepard and Satima. He wondered when the heated exchange would finally address the crucial matter of the mission.

He found Satima in the midst of chaos, surrounded by asari civilians and first responders. She was barely conscious, her body battered and bruised. Clearly, she had faced a brutal opponent, but not Cerberus. Garrus swiftly brought her to the hospital, the same one where Thane had been treated. The place was swarming with onlookers, each pair of eyes and ears a potential threat.

Satima had wanted to express her regret to Shepard, but the commander was already too far down her path of anger and frustration to hear it. Garrus, sensing the danger at the hospital, decided it was best to take Satima back to the Normandy. Too many prying eyes were tracking their every move, and the hospital was no longer safe.

Still, something gnawed at Garrus's instincts. Satima's story about Cerberus didn't add up. The ward had been eerily quiet, devoid of any Cerberus militants or signs of a struggle. Garrus's eyes narrowed; she was hiding something crucial.

Could it have been that assassin from the Executor's office? Garrus's thoughts were abruptly cut off as Satima's voice rose, her frustration evident.

"I didn't abandon the mission! You still were able to save the councilors, weren't you?" Satima leaned forward from her seated position on the examination table, her gesture sharp and insistent.

Charlie shook her head, arms crossed tight across her chest. "That's not a good enough excuse. You didn't even bother to comm in or let anyone know where you were," her voice was sharp, slicing through the tension. "I told you to stay behind me, but you disobeyed. And that's where I draw the line!"

Garrus's eyes bore into Satima's, his agreement only further igniting the fire within her. Her face flushed with a mix of humiliation and fury. "You have no idea what I've sacrificed for you today!" she spat, her voice trembling with a barely contained rage. "I was inches from death, and all for your sake!"

Satima restrained herself, shouting her last words dismissively. As the reality of the situation set in, her eyes widened, a mixture of fear and resolve flooding her expression. The tension in the room grew. She realized with a jolt that Archer could have killed her and gone after Shepard already. The future they were fighting for hung by a thread.

Shepard's eyes softened momentarily before the fire returned. "Who? Who could've killed me?" she demanded, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

Satima shook her head, her defiance evident. Garrus stepped closer, his presence looming. "It's important we know," he insisted, his avian eyes piercing through her defenses. Both Shepard and Garrus cornered Satima, the air thick with anticipation. She wanted to fight it, to keep her secrets, but the growing suspicion was palpable. She couldn't protect Shepard if the commander didn't trust her. With a heavy sigh, she finally conceded.

"Fine," she muttered, her voice barely more than a whisper, laden with the weight of unspoken truths.

Satima reluctantly revealed the truth. "He's a cybernetic scientist of the directive. His name is Archer. He managed to find me." Closing her eyes to avert their curious stares, the hybrid continued. "Archer uses advanced technology that allows him to rift. With known locations and coordinates, he could be anywhere." She looked up to Shepard cautiously, "Any time." Satima winced, glancing to the floor rubbing her sore arm. "He's a monster. And he's dangerous," she informed.

Shepard's eyes narrowed as she processed the information. "How dangerous are we talking about here, Satima?" she asked, her voice a mixture of frustration and concern.

Satima took a deep breath, her gaze shifting between Shepard and Garrus. "Archer isn't just a scientist; he's a weapon. His cybernetic enhancements make him incredibly strong and resilient. He has the ability to manipulate technology in ways we've never seen before. The rift technology he possesses allows him to create portals, essentially wormholes, to travel instantaneously to any location within a certain range. It's like having a personal teleportation device."

Garrus's expression darkened. "So, he could appear right here, right now, and we'd have no warning?"

"Exactly," Satima confirmed. "He's been hunting me because he believes I have information that could compromise the directive. But if he's after me, it means he's also a threat to all of you. If he finds out about the Normandy or any of our operations, he won't hesitate to exploit that information."

Shepard's jaw tightened. "We need to be prepared. EDI will need to enhance our surveillance and security protocols. We can't let Archer catch us off guard."

Satima nodded, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and determination. "I'll do whatever it takes to help. But you need to understand, Archer is relentless. He won't stop until he's achieved his goal. We have to be ready for anything."

Shepard glanced at both of them, a steely resolve in her eyes. "Let's get to work. We have a lot to do, and not much time to do it."

Garrus's gaze bore into Satima. "There's more you're hiding, isn't there?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. Satima flinched, her eyes darting away from his intense stare.

"Why are you trying so hard to mislead us?" Garrus's voice cut through the air like a blade. Satima's steps faltered as she backed away, her silence speaking volumes. Garrus's eyes never left her, filled with a mixture of anger and suspicion. The tension was visible, each second dragging on painfully.

Finally, unable to bear the weight of his gaze any longer, Satima turned and hurried back to the core room. Garrus shook his head, frustration etched on his face, before he too walked away, the sense of betrayal lingering in the air.

Shepard came through the elevator in front of the CIC. Traynor spotted her," Commander, you have a new message at your private terminal."
She nodded and proceeded to it.

Shepard took a deep breath and proceeded to her private terminal. There was a message she had set aside a week ago, too preoccupied with the mission on Palaven to give it the attention it deserved. Now, with a fleeting moment of respite, Shepard opened the message, her curiosity piqued and her mind ready for whatever new challenge awaited her.

"Priority Mission Eden Prime"
From: Alliance Command
Commander,
Cerberus has attacked Eden Prime and is now occupying the colony. Alliance forces are stretched too thin right now to attempt to liberate the colony, but we're doing what we can to covertly aid the local resistance.
In the process, we've learned that Cerberus has uncovered a major Prothean artifact. We don't know what it is, but it appears to be the reason for the attack on the colony. We need you to infiltrate the colony and recover the artifact."

As soon as Shepard closed her terminal, Liara burst out of the elevator, almost skidding to a stop in her haste. "Shepard!"

Shepard sighed, her smile widening as anticipation coursed through her veins. "Here we go," she thought, her heart skipping a beat with the thrill of the impending mission.

Liara skidded to a halt in front of Shepard, her cheeks flushed with urgency. "Shepard, I'm so sorry, but I read your latest message and had to find you immediately!" The words tumbled out as she struggled to catch her breath, her eyes wide with concern and anticipation.

Shepard raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips, "Liara, are you reading my messages without my permission again? You know that's a bad habit, right?"

It didn't really bother her but it made Liara nervous. She wrung her hands together and slyly smiled. "Why uh... yes Shepard. It's only as precaution and besides, you know I'm in control of special privileges."

Shepard raised an eyebrow and smirked, "Special privileges, huh? So, what do I get if I catch you snooping in my messages again? A free lecture on Prothean artifacts?"

Liara chuckled, "Only if you're lucky. Otherwise, you'll just get my best 'I'm sorry' face. Works on everyone, even you."

Shepard shook her head, laughing, "Alright, alright.” But she couldn't help but chuckle. "What do you want?" she asked, barely managing to keep a straight face as she tried to stifle her laughter. Her attempt was so poor that her cheeks turned red from the effort.

"It's absolutely mandatory I come with you to Eden Prime! I mean, I am the Prothean expert." Liara batted her lashes at Shepard with exaggerated earnestness. Normally, the commander would wave it off, but Liara was right. "And you are correct. We need your expertise on this mission." Shepard couldn't help but roll her eyes, a smirk forming on her lips.

Liara's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Thank you, Commander," she said breathlessly, trying to maintain her composure. But as she turned, her enthusiasm got the better of her, and she dashed back to the elevator, pressing the panel repeatedly in her haste. Shepard couldn't help but laugh softly at her friend's antics. EDI, no doubt, would have a word with Liara about the proper use of the Normandy's elevator panel.

Charlie checked her terminal for more messages, her curiosity piqued. There it was—one from the assassin and another from Anderson. "So, this guy is Kai Leng, huh?" Shepard thought, her resolve hardening. She wasn't worried; she would deal with him sooner rather than later. And when the time came, she would make sure to exact slow, deliberate vengeance for Thane.

Moments later, Shepard went to see Ashley. They met again after the attempted coup in front of the Normandy docks. The lieutenant commander apologized for her behavior, but more importantly, finally came to terms with what Shepard had to do while working with Cerberus.
Shaking hands, Ashley agreed to join the rag tag crew of Normandy once more, standing beside her longtime friend against the Reapers.

Outside the door of the Starboard Observation deck, Shepard took a deep breath and knocked. Ashley, momentarily startled, opened it, her expression softening when she saw who it was. "Shepard! I didn't know you were there! Come in. I was just reading a book." Ashley casually walked to the couch taking a seat, crossing one leg.

Shepard opted to stand and gaze into the infinite expanse of twinkling stars, their light reflecting the myriad thoughts swirling in her mind.

"So, Shepard, what do you need?" Ashley asked, setting her book aside with a curious glint in her eye.

Shepard stared around the room, her mind racing as she searched for the right words. "Ash, I just received an urgent message from Alliance command. It's about Eden Prime..." She let the sentence hang, the gravity of her words sinking in.

Eden Prime was where it all began. Where Ashley lost her unit, and where she first met Shepard. The LT straightened up with a stern stare. "Is it under attack again?"

All those memories stirred up inside Ashley and for Shepard as well. The weight of their past seemed to press down on them, unspoken emotions lingering in the air between them. The loss, the sacrifices, and the hard choices—they all came rushing back, and with them, the shadow of Kaiden's memory.

He had wished for an affair between them, but Shepard's heart remained a fortress. She had declined the relationship, pushing him away before the tragedy at Virmire. She had left him to die. Although Ash remembered it differently, with Kaiden's defiance against his commander, pleading with her to save Ash. She believed it was the right choice. But was it?

After her rebirth from the Lazarus Project, Shepard unsuspectingly rekindled an old friendship. As they relived old times, a spark of interest began to flicker between them, one that felt like a second chance at something deeper. And that second chance was with Garrus.

Their connection had always been strong, forged in the heat of battle and the trials of war. Now, with the weight of resurrection and new beginnings upon her shoulders, Shepard found herself drawn to Garrus in a way she hadn't allowed herself to be before. Every shared glance, every touch, carried with it a promise of something more, something unspoken but deeply felt.

Ashley took a deep breath, her concern etched on her face. "Shepard, did you hear me? Is Eden Prime under attack again?"

Shepard shook her head, "Yes... by Cerberus. And there's more. They've found something—something big. A prothean artifact. Liara is joining us; we need her expertise."

Ashley's eyes widened, a mix of concern and curiosity flashing across her face. She took a deep breath and walked over to where Shepard stood. "Eden Prime and a prothean artifact? This mission just got a lot more interesting. And Liara is a prothean expert." Ashley smirked, "I could use a brief review on prothean history.", she mused.

They both shared a laugh. Shepard shook her head, raising her hands to air quote. "Ah, yes. Protheans. The ancient aliens who probably had a field day with their mysterious technology."

Ashley chuckled, "Let's hope they left behind a manual this time. Last time, we were practically playing 'guess the alien artifact.'"

Liara stood behind them, her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. "Are you two making fun of me?"

Ashley and Shepard quickly resumed a false briefing between each other. "So, that's Eden Prime we're heading to. You just be ready… for the mission. And stuff.", Shepard ordered, sliding beside Liara and out the door.

Ashley and Shepard quickly resumed a mock-serious briefing between each other. "So, that's Eden Prime we're heading to. Make sure you're ready... for the mission. And stuff.", Shepard ordered with a grin, sliding beside Liara and out the door.

Ashley raised an eyebrow, adopting an exaggeratedly stern expression. "Aye, Commander. Understood. Mission and stuff. Got it."

Liara eyed them both with a mock-annoyed grunt, tapping her foot dramatically. "And stuff? Really?" she said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, stuff," Shepard replied with a playful smirk. "Highly classified Prothean... stuff."

Ashley joined in, adopting an over-the-top serious pose. "Indeed, Commander. We must ensure all the stuff is secured and accounted for."

"Oh, screw you two!" Liara exclaimed, shaking her head with a grin before turning to leave.

Ashley buried her face, laughing, between the pages of her book.

The crew geared up, excitement and determination etched on their faces as they prepared for the shuttle ride to Eden Prime. Cortez warmed the engines, fingers moving deftly over the controls, while Garrus strolled into the bay, a teasing grin on his face. "Hey, heard about Eden Prime. Surely there's room for one more?" he quipped, his mandibles twitching with amusement.

Shepard smiled, "Not this time, Garrus. I promise, next mission is all yours. Ash and I need to do this one. For Jenkins and Kaiden. You get it, right?"

Garrus's mandibles twitched in amusement, but there was a hint of longing in his eyes. He leaned in slightly, "No worries, Shepard. I understand the importance of this mission. Just make sure to bring back some good stories. Besides, if I tried to sneak onboard, Liara might warp my plated ass out of the shuttle," he added with a hearty laugh.

Shepard chuckled, the weight of the mission momentarily lifting. "I'll hold you to that, Garrus. Next adventure is all yours. Promise."

Garrus leaned on the armory table, his eyes lingering on Shepard as she secured her armor with deliberate precision. Each movement captivated him, and he found himself mesmerized by her grace and strength. She caught his gaze and, with a playful smile, said, "Take a good look, Vakarian." Her wink was a spark, igniting a warmth in his chest.

Garrus's mandibles twitched, emitting a low growl of appreciation. "Always a pleasure, Shepard," he murmured, his voice laced with affection.

"Get a room, you two lovebirds!" James hollered across the bay, his voice dripping with mock indignation. "Some of us are trying to work here!"

As they stepped into the shuttle, Liara's excitement was palpable, her curiosity piquing her every movement. Shepard turned on her comms, her voice reaching out to Garrus through the static. "Garrus, keep an eye on Satima while we're gone. She's been acting a bit jittery."

Garrus nodded, a silent promise in his eyes.

With a final wave, Shepard and Ashley settled into their seats, the shuttle's engines roaring to life. The journey to Eden Prime had begun.

Satima sat in her compartment of the AI core room, the soft hum of the ship's machinery a constant backdrop to her thoughts. Her arm throbbed when she moved it, a painful reminder of the last mission's close call. The datapad in front of her displayed the recent construction projects on the Crucible, each line of text a potential lifeline in the battle ahead. The fluctuating lights of the AI core cast shifting shadows, making the reality of their dire situation ever more tangible.

She knew there was something missing, but the answer eluded her like a wisp of smoke. Satima hoped that her time aboard the Normandy would eventually reveal the clues she desperately sought. Frustrated and curious, she set the data pad down, feeling a pang of hunger gnawing at her.

Determined to distract herself, she decided to venture out and explore. Perhaps, along the way, she'd find not only a meal but also a semblance of the answers she craved.

As Satima left the med bay, she almost collided with Garrus, who was walking in the opposite direction. "Whoa there, Satima! Going somewhere in a hurry?" he asked, a playful glint in his eye.

Satima rolled her eyes, "Yes. I'm starving, and if I don't get something to eat soon, I might just pass out right here."

She quickly made her way to the kitchen area, her stomach growling in protest. As she rummaged through the fridge, she muttered under her breath about the lack of dextro options. Pushing aside the human-based meals with a sigh, she finally found a small container tucked away in the back.

Garrus stood next to her, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "You know, the dextro options are on the lower shelf," he said, taking a casual bite of his nutrient bar.

Satima sighed and reached on the bottom shelf for a plastic bowl with dextro dinner in it. When she heated her meal, and took a seat at the table, Garrus sat across from her.

Satima sighed in exasperation and reached onto the bottom shelf, retrieving a plastic bowl containing a dextro meal. With a practiced motion, she heated her dinner and took a seat at the table. Garrus, ever the observer, slid into the seat across from her with a playful smirk.
"Finally found the right shelf, huh?" he teased, eyes gleaming with amusement.

Satima gave him a half-hearted glare but couldn't suppress a small smile.
“Personal space much?”, she thought.

She ate self-consciously, feeling strange with him watching her. He said nothing but sipped water and stared straight ahead. An odd noise came from his seat. Like small whining, or was it cheering? She tilted her head, trying to decipher the source of the sound. Garrus continued to stare, his mandibles twitching slightly.

"Are you part machine now, or is this your new hobby?" Satima quipped, raising an eyebrow.

Garrus, a twinkle in his eye, stayed silent for a moment before a playful grin spread across his face. "Just keeping things interesting," he replied enigmatically, taking another sip of water with exaggerated calm.

Satima took a few bites from her meal until suddenly Garrus shouted "GOAL!" and burst into a fit of raucous laughter.

Some crew members stared for a few seconds before opting to mind their business. Satima dropped her spoon splattering food on the table and herself.

"Spirits, I didn't mean to startle you!" Garrus chuckled, noticing the mess caused by Satima's startled reaction. "I was just watching a game on my visor," he explained, pointing to the small device with a sheepish grin.

Satima had finally reached her limit with Garrus's antics. She longed for the days when he was broody and silent, a cold, calculating presence on the ship. Without a word, she left the table and headed to the restroom, trying to escape the embarrassment.

The term "lady's restroom" felt like a cruel joke in this context—she was far from feeling like a lady. Her experiences with other so-called "ladies" had mostly been with entitled asari who often demanded red sand smuggling. Borlask didn't care, and neither did she.

Surrounded by a few female crew members who glanced at her with a mix of curiosity and sympathy, Satima hurriedly washed off the dextro food smeared across her clothes. She emerged from the restroom, her cheeks flushed with a combination of anger and embarrassment, and made a beeline for the med bay.

Meanwhile, Garrus, still sitting at the table, noticed her abrupt departure. Leaning forward with a mischievous grin, he grabbed the food she had left behind. "No wonder she's so skinny and irritable," he muttered to himself, shaking his head in amusement.

The team returned from the planet's surface with an unexpected guest—a real, living Prothean. Excitement buzzed through the crew as Liara escorted him to an unoccupied room on the engineering deck, eager to begin her studies on this remarkable being.

Shepard received a message on her terminal, her curiosity piqued by the mention of the Prothean. Deciding to let Liara, the expert on ancient species, handle the initial interactions, she took a deep breath and prepared herself for the next task at hand.

She just finished her report with Admiral Hackett. His news was dire. Colonies were being lost faster than they could be saved. The weight of the dead souls crying for justice bore heavily on her mind. As she was about to leave the QEC, a sudden call from Liara made her thoughts disperse.

"Shepard, I need you down in the port cargo hold. It's about our new guest,"

"I'm on my way.", she left the room.

Shepard approached the steel door, flanked by two vigilant crewmen. As the door slid open with a hiss, she stepped into the dimly lit, musty room where Liara paced anxiously. Around them, armed guards kept a watchful eye on the Prothean, whose presence was nothing short of extraordinary.

"What's the problem?", she asked Liara.

"I've tried to make the room more accommodating, but they're not letting me talk to him.", her concerned gaze left Shepard's and onto the prothean.

He sat on his legs, eyes closed, meditating. A sour scowl contorting his face.

A guard approached them standing at attention to Shepard. "Apologies, Doctor. Contact protocol with a new species: "Assume hostility." We had to dust off regulations."

Shepard watched the Prothean, her heart pounding in her chest. His eyes suddenly opened, locking onto hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. The room seemed to grow colder, the air thick with an unspoken tension. She knew this moment could change everything.

Liara spoke freely with her arms crossed in frustration, "But he's not new! I've spent my life studying protheans."

Shepard broke through the armed guards. "At ease. I don't think our guest will be a problem."

The Prothean stood straight facing her.

"Will he?", she said glaring his way.

"That depends on you.", he said with a slight accented tone.

His hand shot out, gripping her arm with a force that sent a jolt through her entire body. An overwhelming rush of memories surged between them, a torrent of images and emotions from both their minds colliding in an electrifying exchange. The unseen energy crackled in the air around them, palpable and intense.

The guards, sensing the imminent threat, raised their weapons, their eyes darting nervously between their Commander and the alien presence. The room seemed to darken, shadows creeping across the walls as the Prothean's eyes bore into hers with an unfathomable depth.

Shepard's mind swirled in a maelstrom of darkness, the Prothean's words digging deep into her consciousness, unearthing fears and doubts she had buried long ago. The weight of the moment pressed heavily on her, every breath a struggle as the air grew thick with unspoken tension. This was a turning point, a moment that could change everything, and the gravity of it all threatened to pull her under.

"I can sense fear in you. Anxiety and distress. The Reapers are winning."
He lets Shepard go. She stands away feeling more invaded than anyone could from what the prothean did.

"What do you mean, "you sense"?", she asked.

He paces, "All life provides clues for those who can read them. It is in your cells, your DNA. Experience is a biological marker."

Shepard signals the guards to ease down. She approaches the prothean.
"Then what exactly did I experience on Eden Prime? That was a hell of a flashback."

He looks behind him as he washed his hands at the basin. "The battle left its own mark on me. I communicated this to you. It can work both ways."

"Like your beacons?", Liara chimed in.

"Yes. Which...", he grabs Shepard again for another read.

The visions Shepard encountered from the beacon on Eden Prime rushed across her mind and his. The truth behind the collectors twisted DNA flashed before their closed eyes. As well as the reapers harvest.
"...you found one. You saw it all-our destruction, our warnings... Why weren't they heeded? Why didn't you prepare for the Reapers, human?" His angered tone echoed off the hull walls.

Shepard stepped forward annoyed," It's "Commander", and nobody could understand your warnings. The beacon nearly killed me."

The prothean scoffed at this. He started his pacing again, "The communication is still primitive in this cycle."

"We pieced together what we could and used it to stop a Reaper invasion three years ago.", Shepard stood behind him.

"Then the extinction was delayed?", he asked surprised.

Shepard nodded to his question.

Liara walked forward. "Now we have your plans for the device. We're going to build it." She began typing away at a large holo pad to a terminal screen on the wall.

"Device?", the prothean asked.

Confused, Liara turned to him. "The weapon your people were working on-I'd hope you could tell us how to finish it."

The Prothean's eyes flickered with recognition as he stared at the holographic blueprints of the device Liara had mentioned. Memories, long buried in the sands of time, surged forth, bringing with them images of what he had once been told about this very construct over fifty-thousand years ago.

"We never finished it. It was too late", he looked down in solemn thought.

"Then I take it you don't know anything about the catalyst?", Shepard asked.

He put his hands on the panel leaning over the holo grid. "No." Looking back up at the catalyst pieces, he spoke in his deep accented tone. "I was a soldier, not a scientist. Skilled in one art: killing."

"What was your mission?", Liara asked curiously.

"Among my people, there were... avatars of many traits: bravery, strength, cunning. A single exemplar for each."

"Which are you?", Shepard wondered aloud.

"The embodiment of vengeance. I am the anger of a dead people, demanding blood be spilled for the blood we lost.", he closed his eyes in somber memory. "Only when the last Reaper has been destroyed will my purpose be fulfilled. I have no other reason to exist."

Above the cargo room, hidden in the narrow confines of a ventilation tunnel, Satima listened intently as the Prothean spoke, the weight of his ancient sorrow echoing in her mind. "I have no other reason to exist," his voice reverberated, each word laced with profound regret. She couldn't help but reflect on her own existence, the choices that had led her to this moment.

Shepard, sensing the Prothean's vulnerability, signaled the guards to lower their weapons. This being, once a mighty warrior, now seemed more like a relic of a forgotten past, haunted by memories and loss. The tension in the room began to ease, replaced by a somber understanding.

As the guards reluctantly retreated, Shepard turned her attention back to the Prothean, her resolve steeling. This encounter, she realized, was not just a meeting but a convergence of destinies. The Prothean's knowledge could be the key to their survival, but only if they could bridge the chasm of time and understanding that lay between them.

"Those who share my purpose become allies. Those who do not become casualties.", he continued.

Shepard's heart raced as she wrestled with the Prothean's near threat towards her crew and herself. He may have been a victim, but his intended cruelty, hate, and potential for violence loomed heavily in the air, a chilling reminder of the thin line between survival and chaos.

"Nothing in our fight against the Reapers has ever been that cut-and-dried.", her tone irritated.

The prothean faced her with annoyance. "Because you still have hope that this war will end with your honor intact."

"I do.", Shepard said plainly.

"Stand in the ashes of a trillion dead souls, and ask the ghosts if honor matters."

Shepard stares at the prothean. There isn't an answer for that. Could there have been?

Meanwhile, Satima crouched in the narrow confines of the ventilation tunnel, her heart pounding in her chest. The weight of the Prothean's ancient sorrow reverberated in her mind, each word he spoke laced with profound regret. For the first time, she became acutely aware of the others around her, the weight of their shared struggle pressing down on her.

But the truth echoed more fiercely than anything else. Shepard knew that she couldn't end the war against the Reapers with her honor intact. Sacrifices had to be made, and in the end, they won. Shepard became a Reaper, and Satima... was born.

The prothean glares towards Shepard, angry at her complete absence of an answer. He decides she needs to understand it.

"The silence is your answer.", he says to her.

Liara stepped away from the intense exchange, her eyes drawn to a small, black shard with an eerie green glow, suspended mid-air on a hover stand.

"We found this at the dig site," she began, her voice tinged with curiosity and reverence. "I assume it belonged to you?"

"It is a memory shard.", he tells her.

"Could it help us with the device?", she asked hopeful.

"No. It contains only pain.", he answers her.

"But I will help you fight. And the last thing the reapers will hear before they die will be the last voice of the Prothean's sending them to their grave." He stood resolved in his imaginary victory over the Reapers.

Liara watched him with a curious gaze. She turned to him, "If you don't mind, I have a few more questions I'd like to ask."

Shepard shook her head, "Here it comes."

Liara paced, "I've written over a dozen studies on your species. I've published in several journals-"

"Amusing. Asari have finally mastered writing.", he bears a slight smile.
Liara stops her pacing, "I'm sorry?"

He leans against the panel, "Never mind. What do you wish to know?"

The questions came one at a time to the Prothean. To which he answered honestly and bluntly. He relayed his knowledge of a previous inhabitant of the room; A teenage krogan, very excitable and very dangerous.

Then, his people's evolution as hunters in reading every minute detail, gaining their sensor ability. Their skills to read other thoughts. Not too different from the Asari.

Shepard's understanding of the Prothean beacons deepened. She realized that the Protheans had developed technology to store their knowledge and memories in objects, accessible by touch. These beacons were not just relics but powerful repositories of information. Fascinated and determined, Shepard and Liara delved into the mysteries of the Prothean civilization, eager to uncover the secrets that could turn the tide in their desperate struggle.

He continued with the tale of his people's vast empire, painting a picture of a civilization that once spanned the galaxy. Shepard and Liara learned that the word "Prothean" meant "many," a testament to their dominion. Every race they encountered, whether conquered or absorbed, became part of the Prothean collective, losing its individual identity and culture. This revelation weighed heavily on them, underscoring the immense responsibility they now bore in safeguarding the remnants of this ancient knowledge.

"I had no idea Prothean's were so... severe.", Liara said a little shocked.

"It was by necessity.", the Prothean answered.

The conversation took a turn toward the dangers posed by machine intelligence. Shepard, drawing on a wellspring of experience, recounted the tumultuous history of the Geth and their creators, the Quarians. Her voice, steady and resolute, painted a vivid picture of the catastrophic consequences of synthetic life left unchecked.

The Prothean's mission became the new focal point, each word dripping with the bitterness of betrayal. He spoke of the stasis pod incident, a harrowing memory that seemed to carve deep lines into his ancient visage. There were others who had fallen under the indoctrination, their treachery a stark reminder of the cruel twists of fate.

Those few Prothean's were to rise again, forging a new empire. Shepard's inquisitiveness got the better of her. "Just out of curiosity, how would you have "commanded" us?", she asked.

"By leaving you no other option. You would have joined our army-or faced the reapers alone.", he said.

"We've uncovered quite a few Prothean ruins. Were you observing our ancestors?", Shepard had to ask.

"Before the war, we cultivated species who showed potential. Eventually, you would have been offered a... choice to join the empire." The Prothean looked at them.

Shepard's stance changed. The Prothean continued, "But when the reapers attacked, we ceased all study. We hoped they would see you as too primitive to harvest."

"Well, thank you. I think.", she shrugged the words off her shoulders.
More questions ensued. He heard only stories about the device. How their scientist was working on a great machine to be used against the reapers. But he never saw it.

With the empire fractured, nobody knew what the other was doing. Liara felt the same would happen this cycle, if no one could work together to end this war. The Prothean's war against the Reapers lasted centuries.

"Their unity, their strength," the Prothean continued, "became their downfall. In our arrogance, we believed ourselves invincible, with every race bound to a single doctrine, a single strategy. But the Reapers... they are cunning predators. They exploited our rigidity, our inability to adapt. One by one, we fell, divided and confused."

Liara's eyes widened as the gravity of their situation settled upon her. The thought of history repeating itself was chilling. But it also ignited a spark of determination within her. They could learn from the past, from the Protheans' mistakes. They had to. For the sake of all life in the galaxy, they had to find a way to unite against the Reapers.

The memory shards were passed down giving memories of times lost to each recipient it touched. Illos, was the war fought by attrition, system to system fighting, only to be indoctrinated and harvested in the end.

All races being conformed to one doctrine, one strategy prevented a possible victory over the reapers. They could not adapt. The reapers exploited their weakness and one by one, they fell.

"I'm happy to say our cycle is different. Most races cooperate, but they still remain unique.", Liara spoke up.

"Then it may be your only hope.", he stated.

As the evening wore on, Liara stifled a yawn, her eyes still alight with excitement. She couldn't help but feel a thrill as they pieced together the ancient puzzle, each shard of memory a window into a bygone era. This was more than just history; it was a lifeline, a beacon of hope in their darkest hour.

"Thank you for talking with me. I never imagined actually meeting a Prothean.", Shepard acknowledged.

The Prothean nodded, "This has been... amusing."

"Oh?", Shepard asked.

"To discover the most primitive races of my time, now rule the galaxy. The asari, the humans, the turians...", he concluded.

"There's also the salarians.", Liara added.

"The lizard people evolved?", he wondered with a smirk.

"I believe their amphibian.", she crossed her arms.

He gave a curious nod to her. "They used to eat flies.", he blinked in an expressionless stare.

Liara's gaze lingered as she reluctantly walked away, her mind racing with thoughts of the ancient secrets they had uncovered. The thrill of piecing together the Prothean puzzle was electric, and she couldn't shake the feeling that they were on the brink of a monumental discovery.

"Commander, you may count on me. I am known as Javik.", he stood still.

Shepard stood at ease with her hands behind her back, "Then welcome aboard the Normandy, Javik."

.............................................................

One intense week had swept by, with Shepard and her team navigating perilous skirmishes across Reaper-dominated space. Their encounters were fierce, testing their resolve and unity at every turn.

Satima's arm felt better, and her curiosity was piqued. She had always been fascinated by the enigmatic Prothean, Javik. After much deliberation, she decided to venture to his quarters in the cargo room, eager to uncover more about his mysterious past and the secrets he held.

Javik stood in front of his shadowed basin, the dim light casting eerie reflections on the water's surface. He scrubbed his hands vigorously, each motion a ritual of both cleanliness and contemplation. His keen senses pricked up, alerting him to an unfamiliar presence in his quarters.

Satima leaned on the open doorway, her curiosity barely contained. She tilted her head, her eyes wide with wonder as they took in the strangeness of Javik’s four eyes and his insect-like appearance.

She had delved into the archives while aboard the Normandy, uncovering the heartbreaking truth: the Collectors were once Protheans. It was a tragic fate for a once-mighty civilization, twisted into tools of destruction. But perhaps this fate was an ironic twist of destiny, given their history of conquest and control, echoing the very nature of the Reapers they now served.

Javik's four eyes narrowed as he studied Satima, an air of curiosity mixed with caution. Her presence was like a puzzle piece from another world, one that he was determined to understand. He took a measured step forward, his movements careful, almost predatory.

"There is something about you," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down Satima's spine. "You do not belong here, do you?"

Satima felt a tightening in her chest but stood her ground, her gaze unwavering. "No, I don't," she said, her voice steady despite the rapid beating of her heart.

Javik's interest seemed to intensify, his eyes reflecting a multitude of questions. "Then tell me," he urged, his tone both commanding and inquisitive. "How did you come to be here? What secrets do you hold?"

Satima took a strong step back, her eyes narrowing. "You will not touch me," she warned, her voice a low growl.

Javik took a step closer, his presence looming. "What kind of creature are you? I have never encountered a species like yours before." His questions cut through the air, sharp and probing.

Satima stiffened at his inquiry. "You won't," she replied, her voice low and firm. "I am not from this time."

Javik's eyes gleamed with a newfound intensity. "How, in the name of the stars, did you manage to traverse to this time?" he demanded, his curiosity now blazing like a comet.

Satima's gaze flickered away, "By means I have no knowledge of," she admitted, her voice carrying a hint of unease.

"Who then... has this knowledge?", Javik pressed.

Satima swallowed hard, a flicker of fear illuminating her eyes, "The Sentarians or as some others would know them—The Ancients."

Javik's eyes widened, a mixture of shock and awe flashing across his face. "The Ancients!" he exclaimed, his voice barely above a whisper. "My people stumbled upon an artifact, laden with cryptic messages about a race. They were desperately trying to communicate with us, but then the Reaper War obliterated everything. The Ancients became a haunting legend, whispered through the corridors of time. And you—you have encountered them?"

Satima nodded to this.

Javik's hand shot forward, aiming to clasp her arm and unlock the secrets within her mind. Satima's reflexes were swift, her hand slapping his away with force. "I warned you!" she hissed, her eyes flashing with fury. "You cannot touch me, Prothean!"

The prothean made one more advance, but Satima's blade was suddenly at his throat, gleaming menacingly in the dim light. A tense battle erupted between them, each move swift and calculated. With a cunning feint, Javik managed to distract her momentarily and his fingers grazed her cheek.

Javik's eyes narrowed as he searched Satima's face, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "I see... pain," he murmured, his breath chilling against her skin. "You seek revenge, don't you?"

Satima stood back, her breaths coming in ragged gasps, eyes wide with shock and defeat. Javik's steely gaze never left her as he took a step forward, his voice a dangerous whisper, "What are you?"

"I don't know," she replied, her voice trembling with fear. Javik reached out with a tightened grip around her arm, his eyes burning with determination.

Meanwhile, Shepard had been discussing a mission with Liara when Joker's voice commed her. "Uh... Commander, EDI says our newest guests are hashing it out in the engineering deck. Just, you know, might want to prevent an issue."

"Dammit!" Shepard yelled, her voice echoing with urgency. She stormed toward the room, flanked by Liara and Garrus, each ready for battle.

Javik's grip tightened, his brow furrowing as he delved deeper into the storm of Satima's thoughts. "An inorganic human is your adversary... he designed you," he hissed, his voice dripping with contempt. Satima winced, the haunting memories of Archer's cold, calculating gaze flashing before her eyes.

Javik's grip tightened, his eyes boring into hers with fierce intensity. "You reek of fear and confusion. You are not just an anomaly—you are a hybrid!" He released her arm, his breath heavy, forehead damp with sweat. Satima swayed, dizziness washing over her as she steadied herself. Javik bent down, his gaze locking with hers, unwavering and cold. "Human and turian blood courses through your veins. Such a rare and dangerous blend. Tell me, how did you manage to survive?"

Satima stared, her gaze distant as haunting memories flooded back. The sterile scent of the lab, the sharp sting of injections, all conducted under Archer's cold, watchful eye. Enhancement, experimentation—her very existence a puzzle she couldn't piece together. "I don't know how I survived," she said, her voice trembling with the weight of her past.

"Not in the way you're implying," Satima retorted, her voice a mix of defiance and vulnerability. "Physically, maybe I should be dead, or barely alive without constant medical aid. But..." She paused, her eyes narrowing as she fought back her frustration. "But I'm not someone who could have been born naturally, am I?" Her gaze bore into Javik, searching for answers in his inscrutable expression.

Javik's nod was almost imperceptible, his movements taut with tension. He walked to his shadowy basin, the air thick with unspoken dread. He washed his hands methodically, each splash echoing like a dark omen. "The Reapers are a resourceful and dark menace," he intoned, his voice a gravelly whisper. "Your very existence is a form of torture. I pity you."

Shepard, Garrus, and Liara were just exiting the elevator as Satima began to walk out when Javik's voice sliced through the tension like a knife.

"Your secret remains yours alone. I have no interest in revealing the truth to Shepard and her companion. But remember, if they ever need critical information about their offspring, I will not be so silent."

Satima whirled back to face him, not realizing that Shepard had closed the distance behind her. "He's not my parent! Neither is she! It's genetic engineering, not conception!" she spat, her voice taut with anger. She clenched her fists, a gritty scowl twisting her features. "Dammit! I shouldn't have come. I'm an accident, this was a mistake."

Javik let out a dark, almost mocking chuckle. "Accidents have a way of reshaping destinies," he mused, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and pity. "And mistakes... they are the harshest of teachers."

Satima shook her head with a low grunt of disapproval, then sprinted off, colliding with Shepard in her haste to escape Javik's "philosophically vague blathering." Their eyes met, Satima's wide with alarm, Shepard's narrowing with suspicion.

Shepard's eyes blazed with intensity. "What the hell is he talking about? What is going on? EDI said you two were fighting. Is that what happened?" Her voice was sharp, demanding an immediate answer.

Javik's eyes flickered with a hint of amusement as he replied smoothly, "We were merely having a conversation, Commander. Nothing more. Perhaps your AI is mistaken."

Satima shot him an annoyed glare before turning back to Shepard's burning gaze. "We had a slight misunderstanding, but it's resolved now," she insisted, her voice shaky yet determined. Without waiting for Shepard's response, she spun on her heel and sprinted down the corridor, her heart pounding in her chest. The echoes of her footsteps mingled with the tension lingering in the air.

Shepard's eyes flickered with suspicion. "This isn't over," she muttered, her jaw set in grim determination. She turned back to Javik, her expression sharp. "We will get to the bottom of this."

Javik's face remained impassive, though a hint of amusement danced in his eyes. "I have no doubt, Commander," he replied smoothly.

The commander glared at Javik once more before dismissing the whole event. Whatever happened, she would uncover the truth.

Satima took the lift to the third deck, feeling each second stretch into an eternity. As the doors finally opened, she bolted towards the med bay, seeking solace in the core room. Locking the door behind her, she sank into her compartment, the weight of her secret pressing heavily on her shoulders. She vowed to carry this burden alone, letting the truth die with her, if only Javik could wait a little longer.

..................................................................................................

The Distress signal of Messana

Shepard methodically strapped on her body armor, each click and snap echoing in the silence of the bay. Fresh from her debriefing with Anderson, her mind was awhirl with information and strategies. Liara's message added another layer of urgency to her thoughts. Asari command had relayed a troubling mission.

Some of their commandos disappeared while answering a distress call from a monastery. Even though the asari haven't asked directly, they assumed Shepard would take on the mission anyway.

Satima's arm throbbed as Chockwas meticulously tended to her wound. The med bay's sterile air did little to calm Satima's racing heart. Chockwas, with her steady hands and sharp eyes, worked with a maternal intensity that betrayed her usual calm demeanor. She regarded every crew member of the Normandy as her own, but this time, it felt different. This time, one of them was a mystery wrapped in fear—an enigma that Chockwas had to protect.

Satima's secret weighed heavily between them, an unspoken truth that could unravel if mishandled. Chockwas knew that while they were away, she had to keep a vigilant eye on Satima. If the hybrid's condition worsened or she acted out, EDI had orders to lock her in the core room, isolated from prying questions and suspicious eyes. The tension was palpable, each second a ticking clock towards an uncertain future. It wasn't time yet to reveal everything. The secret had to remain buried a little longer.

While on the shuttle to the planet Lessia, Shepard couldn't help but glance at Liara, curiosity gnawing at her. "Dig up any information on the mission, Liara?" she asked, standing purposefully in the middle of the shuttle, her presence commanding attention.

Liara sat, seemingly comfortable answering, "I did, and I now understand why High Command wanted to hide it. We're headed to an Ardat-Yakshi monastery."

"Ardat-Yakshi? Like Morinth?", that put Shepard on edge. A whole place full of them? Wonderful.

Liara could tell Shepard's uneasy stance. "Morinth chose to be a killer. These Ardat-Yakshi isolated themselves to avoid that." The ride got bumpy for a minute. Liara continued, "But it doesn't mean they're harmless. Their urge to feed can be powerful. That's why High Command sent in commandos to investigate the monastery's distress signal."

"So, what does Asari High Command want us to do?", Garrus asked.

"If there was a chance the Ardat-Yakshi could break loose, the commandos were to purge the monastery.", Liara answered.

Shepard gripped the handle above her head as the shuttle lurched. "Purge? You mean obliterate?"

"They would have undoubtedly brought heavy explosives with them," Liara remarked, her gaze shifting between Shepard and Garrus. "After all, it's not like High Command to take chances with such a threat."

"Morinth was dangerous, but are the Ardat-Yakshi this big of a threat?", Shepard sounded concerned.

Liara placed her hands in her lap,"Morinth was just hitting her stride, Ardat-Yakshi who kill leave behind astronomical body counts. It's why they can never be free, and why they're such a great source of shame to the asari." Liara looked down solemnly then back to Shepard.

"That's why High Command won't rest until this place is destroyed. They'd never risk a single Ardat-Yakshi getting loose."

Feeling that a bomb was the last resort, Shepard set a plan for the mission. "Don't assume anything. Maybe the Ardat-Yakshi sent out the distress call. If the asari want us to destroy this place, I need to know what happened."

Liara stood, stepping towards Shepard, "Agreed. Once we give a report to High Command, they'll stop wasting lives here."

As the shuttle began its descent toward the landing pad, a sudden and loud thud echoed from a storage compartment beneath a seat, startling everyone aboard.

Garrus instinctively stepped back, eyes darting to the noise. "What was that?" Shepard demanded, her voice edged with tension. The compartment lid suddenly burst open, the hinges snapping with a sharp crack as a long, armored leg clad in black shot out.

Satima tumbled onto the cold, metal floor, crumpled awkwardly from her time stuffed inside the storage unit. Her wide eyes darted up at the group, all of whom stared down at her in a mix of surprise and confusion.

Shepard's expression shifted from shock to silent fury. "By the goddess! How long were you in there?" Liara exclaimed, her voice filled with astonishment.

Satima wriggled her arm back to life, feeling the painful tingles of blood rushing back to her limbs. "A... while," she managed to say, wincing through the discomfort. Dr. Chakwas is going to be so mad.

Shepard leaned over, gripping Satima's arm and pulling her upright. The young hybrid winced as she staggered, her legs still numb from being cramped in the storage compartment. Shepard's instinct was to coddle, remembering the girl's recent injury, but she brushed it aside. "I still can't feel most of my legs, Shepard!" Satima gasped, leaning heavily against the wall.

"Too bad!" Shepard tugged Satima upright, not giving her a chance to escape her grip.

"I suppose we can't just turn around and drop junior off at home?" Garrus quipped, a sly smirk playing on his lips. Shepard shot him a withering glare that could freeze lava. He gulped and quickly shifted his focus to the monitor, pretending to be fascinated by the flickering data.

Liara crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing with determination. "She'll have to wait in the shuttle," she declared firmly.

"No way! I'm coming with you guys!", Satima interrupted.

"Absolutely not!" Garrus and Shepard exclaimed in unison, their voices firm. Satima hesitated, her resolve wavering under their intense gazes.

“Last time you were on a mission, an assassin no one else has seen, ‘from the future,’ almost killed you!” Shepard's voice rose, each word punctuated with exasperation as she air-quoted sarcastically.

Satima stood straight, her voice defiant. "In my defense, he's a lot stronger than both of you. I think I held my own pretty well. I can always take a beating." Her eyes locked onto Shepard, challenging her with every word.

Something about her tone made Shepard feel uneasy. It was as if Satima was directly challenging her authority. There was a lot about Satima that remained hidden, and this confrontation only added to the tension between them.

"Besides," Satima said with a determined glint in her eye, "I'll just escape and track you down anyway. It's better if we stick together."
Shepard glared.

As the shuttle touched down, Satima followed the team onto the landing pad. The deep blue night sky contrasted with the ice-capped mountains in the distance, casting a serene yet eerie atmosphere. Yet, beneath this calm exterior, Satima sensed an underlying tension, as if the very air was charged with hidden danger.

A red sky car had been parked in front of the entrance. "My visor's IR says this shuttle's warm. Recent visitor?", Garrus asked.

Shepard's eyes darted across the area, her senses on high alert. She saw no one hiding between the crates, but the silence felt heavy, almost oppressive. Satima scanned too, her omni-tool glowing with a faint purple hue, casting eerie shadows that danced on the walls. Her fingers moved rapidly over the controls, each ping echoing in the stillness.

"Clear," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the shuttle.

Garrus smirked, his mandibles twitching with amusement. "Why the whispering, Satima?" he teased.

"Because, for all we know, a giant Reaper monster could be lurking behind that door," she said with a mischievous grin. "How about you go first and find out?" she added, daringly.

"Alright, we're on a mission, not a playground.", Liara interjected sharply, her voice echoing in the stillness.

Shepard couldn't help but smile, a flicker of nostalgia warming her heart. Satima's cheeky defiance reminded her so much of her own younger self, a smart aleck with fire in her eyes, always ready to challenge authority. It was like looking into a mirror of the past, and though the situation was tense, Shepard felt a strange comfort in the familiarity.

They all stood in front of the entrance, tense and unmoving. The air seemed to thicken with anticipation, each member of the team exchanging wary glances but no one daring to step forward. The silence was almost visible, broken only by the occasional creak of their gear shifting. Satima's fingers twitched at her side, itching to break the stalemate but held back by the unspoken agreement of caution.

Seconds stretched into what felt like minutes, and the oppressive stillness grew almost unbearable. Finally, with a sigh of exasperation, Liara rolled her eyes. She pushed past the group and activated the door control. The door slid open swiftly and noiselessly, making everyone take a hurried step back. Satima chuckled softly at the reaction, her laughter a brief respite from the building tension.

"Alright Satima, time to get serious," Shepard said, her voice firm yet laced with a hint of a challenge. With a swift motion, she leaped across the ledge to the elevator's top, her movements precise and confident.

"Elevator disabled. Could it be to keep something out, or perhaps to trap something inside?" Liara mused aloud, her voice a curious mix of concern and contemplation.

Garrus motioned to her, snapping Liara out of her contemplative state. Satima cast a wary glance down into the abyss below, her disdain for the dark evident. With everyone securely over the ledge, Shepard took the lead, guiding them across the precarious catwalk and down the creaking ladder.

In the distance, a shrill cry echoed from below them. "That sound.", Liara said.

Shepard led them further inside down another ladder. Satima hesitated, ears straining for any hint of movement. The oppressive silence was shattered by another shrill cry echoing through the dark expanse, sending a shiver down her spine.

"Did you hear that?" Satima whispered, her voice barely audible.

"Focus," Shepard commanded firmly, trying to keep the fear at bay. But the unease was palpable, each team member exchanging tense glances, their every step weighed down by the unseen threat lurking in the shadows.

They continued to descend, muscles taut, every creak of the ladder amplified in the oppressive silence. Satima's heart pounded in her chest, each beat a countdown to a potential confrontation with whatever was hiding in the depths.

Shepard and Liara landed together on the bottom. The atmosphere crackled with tension, every shadow a potential threat, and one more catwalk loomed ahead like a harrowing bridge between them and the unknown.

Garrus looked up at Satima, his voice a gritty whisper. "Don't stop now. You came all this way to help Shepard, right?" Satima nodded, closing her eyes momentarily to steady her nerves. She opened them with renewed determination, sliding down the ladder and landing lightly beside Garrus.

The memory of Omega and its monstrous adjutant haunted her. Every creak and groan of the metal beneath them felt like an ominous warning. Garrus treaded carefully on the narrow ledge, his large footfalls echoing ominously. In contrast, Satima moved with an uncanny grace, her lithe form barely making a sound. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy at her agility, knowing all too well that should they encounter the lurking beast, he would likely be the first to face it.

Another shrill cry pierced the darkness, echoing around them, amplifying the sense of dread. "There's more than one out there," Liara whispered, her voice laced with fear as she landed beside Shepard.

Battle-hardened soldier she was, Shepard felt the weight of Liara's words, each one a reminder of the unseen horrors lurking in the shadows. The oppressive silence only intensified the tension, making every creak and groan of the metal beneath them feel like an ominous warning. Shepard tightened her grip on her weapon, her senses on high alert. No need to start shooting anything that moved. Not yet, anyhow.

Shepard leaped into the dimly lit lobby, her eyes scanning the chaotic scene of broken glass, overturned chairs, and walls marred by intense biotic battles. The air was thick with the acrid smell of burnt circuitry and fear. Garrus and Liara followed closely, covering her three and six.

"Stay sharp," Shepard whispered, her voice barely masking the tension that hummed through her every nerve. The shadows seemed to dance menacingly around them, each flicker a potential threat.

Satima slowly stepped to her nine. Then her ten. "Satima, don't wander off in this dark," Shepard warned sternly. Every movement seemed to echo, amplifying the silence.

Satima walked back to Shepard's nine. As they cautiously navigated the darkened lobby, the sound of crunching glass echoed ominously from the shadows. "What was that?" Liara whispered, her voice barely concealing her alarm.

"Stay alert," Shepard commanded, her rifle's light slicing through the darkness, illuminating the potential dangers lurking in every shadow.
There was another noise. "I heard something.", Shepard said.

“That was me. Sorry," Garrus muttered, his tone dripping with a mix of frustration and apology. Shepard shot him a quick smile, her eyes twinkling with a mixture of amusement and relief. "Just be careful next time, big guy," she teased, giving him a playful wink.

In truth, Satima had bumped into Garrus while using her omni-tool to scan the area. Startled by the sudden contact, Garrus instinctively placed a hand over her mouth to silence what he feared would be a startled yelp. The noise of their shuffling feet echoed through the tense silence. Garrus quickly removed his hand, and Satima took a silent, calming breath, mouthing "thank you" to him with a grateful nod.

Shepard's eyes caught a faint electronic signature emanating from a hidden corner, drawing her closer. She knelt down, uncovering a small stash of high-tech mods. Satima's eyes lit up with excitement as she noticed the treasure. "Looks like we've hit the jackpot," she grinned, her fingers twitching eagerly.

Garrus's boot landed on something soft and unyielding. He looked down to find the lifeless form of an asari commando, her face frozen in an expression of resolve. Beside her lay a fallen cannibal, a gruesome testament to the fierce battle that had taken place. Liara, with a practiced eye, spotted a data pad clutched in the commando's hand. She knelt down, gently prying it free, her brow furrowing as she quickly scanned its contents.

As they moved deeper into the lobby, the oppressive silence closed around them tighter, broken only by the crunch of glass underfoot. The shadows seemed to draw closer with each step, heightening their senses.

"Reapers," Garrus muttered, his voice a low growl, filled with contempt.

"Now we know why the Commando team went silent." His eyes scanned the darkness, searching for any sign of movement, his fingers tightening around his weapon.

"This monastery's out of the way. What do the Reapers want with Ardat-Yakshi?" Shepard mused, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the lifeless form beside Garrus. She turned her gaze to Liara, who was intently reading the data pad. "Anything useful?" she asked, her voice a mix of urgency and curiosity.

"A floor plan, marked with the NavPoint location of a bomb. It's in some place called the Great Hall.", Liara answered.

"At least it's no surprise nuke on Tuchanka, but the commandos want this place gone pretty badly.", Garrus concluded.

Shepard stood between them thinking about the information and that bomb,"Ardat-Yakshi or not, evacuating this place would've saved a lot of lives."

She walked forward to the broken door that emitted the slightest illumination of light. "If there's no survivors, let's get to the Great Hall and set off that bomb."

Shepard turned towards Satima, who stood behind, listening intently. With a resolute nod, they moved out of the lobby through a working door on the left end. As they stepped through, a breathtaking vista of ice-capped mountains appeared before them, framed by a giant window.

"Stay focused," Shepard murmured, her voice a steady command amidst the eerie silence. The stark beauty outside was a stark contrast to the tension within, a reminder of the world at stake beyond these cold walls.

Empty desks filled each corner of the long hallway, their surfaces covered in layers of dust and forgotten papers. Shepard took the lead, her eyes scanning the area with precision as she bypassed the door with ease. Every step was deliberate, her senses attuned to the slightest hint of danger.

Below the balcony, a sudden burst of biotic energy lit up the scene, followed by the chilling cry of a reaper abomination. Emerging from the shadows in her red armor, Samara strode forward with a grace that belied her lethal prowess, holstering her pistol with practiced ease.

"Impressive," she acknowledged, her voice calm and measured. "I almost didn't hear you."

With a sudden realization, Shepard's smile broadened. "Samara! I thought I heard a familiar, silent stride," she said, her tone light but layered with respect. "I usually make a louder entrance." She added with a playful smirk, her eyes twinkling in the dim light.

"I wasn't talking about you when you made your entrance, Shepard," Samara revealed with a hint of mystery in her voice.

"Then who?", Shepard asked, curiosity piqued and a hint of urgency in her voice.

"The young one standing beside you," Samara pointed out with a knowing smile. Shepard turned, her eyes locking with Satima's, who looked both surprised and honored. The revelation was unsettling yet fascinating.

Samara smiled, then resumed her conversation with Shepard. "It has been some time, Shepard. You are a most welcome sight. The corruption here runs deep."

Satima's gaze was entranced by the enigmatic asari known as Samara. The lethal grace she exuded was mesmerizing, her beauty a deceptive veil over the formidable power she wielded.

"What brings a Justicar out here?", Garrus inquired.

"My daughters have lived here for centuries, Garrus. I've come for them.
Unfortunately, the reapers had already infested this place by the time I arrived.", Samara glanced down solemnly.

Shepard didn't want to apply the hard questions to her, but she needed to know if their mission would be jeopardized by the presence of Samara's daughters. "You met me hunting down your other Ardat-Yakshi daughter. Are these ones just as dangerous?"

Samara answered with an icy calm, her eyes fixed on Shepard. "Falere and Rila have adhered strictly to the monastery's rules since their arrival. They have shown no inclination toward violence."

"And you're here to save them...", Shepard remarked, stepping away from Satima to peer out over the desolate expanse. The weight of Samara's mission hung heavily in the air, adding to the tension.

Samara's gaze dropped, her voice heavy with a sorrowful resolve, "They are my burden to bear, and despite the galaxy's descent into chaos, I cannot forsake them."

"Let's go together. Perhaps your daughters hold the key to why the reapers targeted this place," Shepard suggested, her voice filled with determination.

Samara turned to face the distant mountains." I suspect they will have much to tell us. It has been centuries since I last saw them." A familiar shrill echoed from the other room. Samara looked up at Shepard, "We're out of time."

With a flare of her biotics, Samara quickly walked to the other room. "We will meet again. I will draw these creatures off."

"Wait!", Shepard shouted. But Samara was already out of sight. She turned to the team, "Let's go."

Satima's heart pounded as she watched the team move away. From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of an asari body lying prone. Kneeling quickly, she noticed a data pad clutched tightly in the lifeless hand. Activating it, she braced herself as the screen flickered to life, revealing the final, desperate message of Tashya Porae.

The gravity of the moment weighed heavily on her shoulders, knowing that every second counted.

"Satima, move it! We don't have time!" Shepard's voice cut through the tension like a blade.

Satima hurriedly downloaded the message and quickly caught up. Outside on the porch, Liara felt a chill from the night air. "It's too quiet. Are there any survivors?" she whispered, her voice tinged with apprehension.

Descending the stairs, Shepard answered her, voice low and tense, "This fight didn't last long, by the look of it."

Satima looked around, every shadow seemed to harbor hidden threats. The place was eerily silent, the open space overlooking the vista now felt like a trap. Stars twinkled coldly above them, indifferent to the growing tension below.

Liara continued, her voice barely above a whisper, "It wouldn't. The monastery only had a few guards to stand against them, not an army."

They reached the bottom of the stairs, the air thick with tension and the scent of impending danger. Shepard took the lead, her every step a blend of caution and determination, with Garrus vigilantly covering her six. Liara glanced over the ledge, her eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement before stepping back into formation. Satima's instincts screamed a warning, an uneasy feeling settling in her gut as she followed closely behind Garrus, her senses on high alert.

Suddenly, a piercing cry echoed from the far-right corner of the upper chamber, slicing through the dense silence like a blade. The team instinctively tensed, their weapons drawn and senses heightened.

"That one's different!", Garrus exclaimed, ducking behind cover.

Shepard leaned out from behind a planter basin. Her eyes locked onto the asari abomination, every muscle in her body tensed and ready for action. She aimed her rifle, her finger trembling slightly on the trigger, but the creature warped itself to a different location within a blink. "Damn! That thing's fast!" she shouted, frustration and adrenaline lacing her voice.

The beast lunged towards Liara, its eyes blazing with menacing intent. She countered with every warp she could muster and attempted to ensnare it in a stasis field. Garrus, precision on his side, aimed his Mantis rifle directly at its head. "There's a barrier around that thing! Liara, bring it down!" he commanded, his voice cutting through the chaos.

Liara scrambled backward, launching another warp at the abomination. Its barrier flickered, weakening under the relentless assault. "I need cover!" she called out, her voice edged with desperation. Her foot caught on debris, sending her sprawling to the ground. She looked up just in time to see the asari monster screeching, a dark energy blast forming in its claws, ready to unleash its deadly power.

"Liara!" Shepard's voice cut through the air like a blade.

Satima sprinted around the corner, her heart pounding in her chest as she fired at the abomination, forcing it to recoil. With swift precision, she hurled a blade, embedding it deep into the monster's claw, halting its deadly warp. She knelt beside Liara, pulling her up with urgency. "Move!" Satima urged, her voice tight with tension. They dashed back to cover, breaths ragged and adrenaline coursing through their veins. "Thanks," Liara panted, her eyes wide with fear and determination. Satima gave a terse nod, her senses on high alert.

Shepard unleashed a torrent of thermal bullets, each one a searing answer to the abomination's shrieks. The creature tried to deflect with a kinetic blast, but Garrus's precise shots from his Mantis rifle found their mark, piercing its grotesque form. Liara, standing tall despite the chaos, gathered her strength and hurled a final warp, its energy crackling through the air. In unison, their combined assault overwhelmed the abomination, silencing its monstrous cries for good.

Its last cry echoed into the open space of night, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. "Demon of the night winds," Shepard whispered to herself, her breath visible in the frigid air. Garrus quickly checked on Liara, casting a worried glance her way before heading to Satima, who was still transfixed by the charred remains of the monster. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

"Yes," she replied, her voice barely a whisper, tension tightening every muscle in her body.

Garrus's eyes darted to Shepard as she reloaded, then back to Satima. "Did you hear that sound it made?" His voice was strained, the tension evident.

Satima yanked her blade from the ashes, her breath still uneven. Garrus, eyes sharp and voice low, broke the silence. "What do you think it was?" His question hung in the air, heavy with implications. Satima understood. "A banshee," she replied, her voice barely more than a whisper, as she walked off, her every step echoing the tension that lingered.

Garrus, still processing the eerie implications of their battle, felt a chill run down his spine. He agreed with a silent nod, his mind racing with thoughts of what they had just encountered.

"HEADS UP!" Shepard's voice cut through the chaos like lightning. Ahead, seven cannibals—once batarians—burst from the doorway at the far end of the courtyard, their frenzied gunfire tearing through the air.

Garrus took down a few with his Mantis, every shot a desperate bid to thin their ranks. He clicked an empty loader, "Dammit. I'm out." Panic flickered in his eyes as he switched to his rifle, the situation growing more dire by the second.

Liara used her singularity to trap two. That was five down, two more to go. Shepard aimed at them but was met by Satima's back. The young fighter charged forward with unparalleled speed, her blade flashing as she took down the first cannibal with a precise slash. The creature fell, its weapon clattering to the ground.

With a fluid motion, Satima switched to her pistol, her grip steady and sure. She fired off a series of rapid shots, each one finding its mark with deadly accuracy. The last two cannibals were down before they even had a chance to react. It was over.

"You were incredible out there," Shepard called out as she jogged up to Satima, her eyes gleaming with admiration. Satima nodded, a fierce satisfaction etched on her face.

"That used to be an Asari," Liara's voice trembled with a mix of anger and sorrow as she kicked a cannibal off the walkway. "What have the Reapers done to them?" Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, reflecting both her fury and heartbreak at the monstrous transformation.

Another door to enter, another hell to witness. Shepard bypassed it into the Great Hall. The air was thick with danger, each step heavy with the weight of the unknown.

They descended into the depths below, each step echoing ominously off the cold metal steps. The air grew heavier with every pace, charged with the anticipation of the unknown ahead.

Through an entryway, the team spotted an asari in a white dress, her biotics flaring as she sprinted past, a cannibal hot on her heels. The air crackled with tension as she threw a desperate warp towards the monstrous pursuer, but it merely shrugged off the blast, undeterred.

Shepard swiftly descended the stairs, her senses sharp and ready for action. Liara, ever vigilant, positioned herself to protect their flank. Garrus, his eyes scanning for threats, followed closely behind, while Satima's agile movements signaled her readiness for any encounter.

As the girl faced a dead end at the wall, Samara leapt down from a ledge high above, landing gracefully in front of her. Her biotics flared with an intense glow, and with a swift motion, the justicar unleashed a powerful biotic blast.

The cannibal flung backwards. Its body dangled on the floor before Satima shot a bullet through its head, with the young asari looking at Samara in utter surprise.

"Mother! You came!" Falere's voice trembled with a mix of relief and disbelief as she watched Samara land gracefully, her biotics still glowing with residual energy.

Samara looked behind her, her expression taut with urgency. "As soon as I was able," she replied, each word laden with unspoken concern.

She turned forward just as Shepard jogged their way, determination etched into every line of her face. Samara knew Shepard had over a dozen questions swirling in her mind. "Shepard, this is Falere, my youngest. She and her sister Rila are Ardat-Yakshi. They..."

Falere quickly stood to her mother's side, her voice a whisper of panic, "Mother! They have Rila!"

Samara's eyes widened with shock, "What?"

"I saw some of those creatures drag her into the Great Hall. I've been trying to get there, but they keep coming!" Falere's voice was fraught with desperation and urgency, eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"What are the Reapers doing here?", Shepard demanded, her voice edged with urgency.

With a burst of urgency, Falere signaled the team towards another fallen Banshee, an asari turned grotesque abomination. Satima hurried to the creature's side, her eyes scanning its twisted form. The air felt thick with anticipation as she studied the creature’s features, hoping for some clue to their next move.

"Harvesting us," Falere said in a grave tone. Satima's eyes widened in horror as she glanced at her before returning her gaze to the lifeless abomination. The creature's claws, sharp enough to rend flesh, and its many razor-like teeth that were once normal, sent a chill down her spine. The asari's body, twisted and mutated into something grotesque, painted a grim picture of the horrors they faced.

"They're turning us into—into those monsters," Falere spat, her hands trembling as she clenched them into small blue fists. A fierce anger surged within her, ready to explode.

Falere remembered her mother was standing there and struggled to control herself. She turned to Shepard, her voice barely above a whisper, laden with sadness and fear, "Please, you can't let that happen to Rila."

Shepard sighed, the weight of Falere's plea sinking in like a heavy stone. The gravity of the situation hung between them, each second stretching with unbearable tension. Family was everything, and protecting them was instinctual, yet the dire reality of their mission left no time for solace.
Shepard's eyes narrowed, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on her shoulders. The atmosphere grew somber, each breath feeling heavier than the last.

"The asari thought the Ardat-Yakshi were to blame for the attack," Shepard said, her voice low and filled with an unspoken burden.

Falere pointed around her, "This is our home! Most of us are grateful to be here. The monastery is a place Ardat-Yakshi can achieve peace."

"Falere speaks truthfully, Shepard. I vouch for her words-with pride.", Samara gave a slight nod to her daughter.

With a determined smile, Falere felt a fleeting moment of triumph pierce through the surrounding dread. The fear that had gripped her heart began to wane, replaced by a newfound resolve.

Shepard’s mind raced as she surveyed the banshee's lifeless form. "We need to find Rila immediately. The Great Hall... it has a bomb."

"A bomb? Didn't you come to rescue people?", Falere asked, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and disbelief.

"We'll try, but we can't leave this place standing, Falere," Shepard declared, her voice taut with urgency. The weight of the mission bore down on her, knowing that the monastery, once a sanctuary, had become riddled with corruption.

"You sound like the commandos, and they didn't stop to help anyone.", Falere accused.

Samara stepped forward to her daughter,"Falere..."

Falere's gaze dropped, her breath catching as she tried to calm her racing heart. "I'm...sorry." Her voice trembled with the weight of her emotions. She cast a fleeting glance at her mother before turning abruptly. With a fierce determination, Falere vaulted over the glass ledge, her biotics flaring as she landed with a soft thud.

"Falere!", Samara shouts. Looking at Shepard, Samara flashes her biotics, "The Great Hall. She's looking for Rila."

Samara followed swiftly, her biotic aura shimmering with a graceful yet powerful intensity as she landed beside her daughter. She could feel the urgency coursing through her veins as she pursued Falere.

"We'll meet you there.", Shepard yells down to Samara.

Samara turns back to Shepard before leaving the lobby lower floor, "Please be swift."

Liara signaled Satima to leave the banshee alone, her eyes narrowing with a mix of caution and anticipation. Garrus approached Shepard with a steady stride, his voice laced with concern. "Do you think Falere and Samara will be okay?" he asked, his mandibles twitching ever so slightly.

Shepard snapped a fresh clip into her rifle with a decisive click. "Yeah, Samara is more than capable. It's Falere's impulsiveness that worries me. We need to move fast."

Into the next room, more cannibals awaited, ready to block Shepard's path. A fierce battle erupted, the room illuminated with flashes of gunfire, biotic warps, and swirling singularity fields. The relentless assault seemed never-ending, each enemy more determined than the last.

At the center of the chaos, a device had been activated, providing a marauder with an impenetrable shield while simultaneously bolstering the cannibals' armor. The team fought valiantly, each member displaying remarkable skill and coordination in the face of overwhelming odds.

Garrus, with his steely precision, took down enemies with unwavering focus, while Liara’s biotics crackled with raw power, tearing through the ranks of their foes. Satima, ever the fierce warrior, moved with lethal grace, her blades finding their marks with deadly accuracy.

Shepard's voice cut through the clamor, issuing orders with the clarity of a seasoned leader. "Focus on the shield generator!" she commanded, knowing that disabling it was their only hope of turning the tide.

Just then, Satima spotted the device, her keen eyes locking onto it amidst the fray. With a swift and decisive shot, she obliterated the generator, sending a shockwave through the enemy lines. The marauder's shield faltered, and the team's relentless assault quickly dismantled the remaining defenses.

Garrus swiftly scavenged for ammo clips, his keen eyes locking onto a stash of Mantis rounds. With practiced precision, he reloaded his weapon, feeling the familiar weight settle comfortably in his grasp as a determined smirk crossed his face. With a determined glint in his eye, Garrus zeroed in on the marauder’s head and muttered something before blowing its face plate clean off, sending the creature into a wild frenzy of agony.

Garrus delivered a final round through its corrupted brain. An oozing black substance poured from the bullet hole.

After the fray was over, they all headed silently down the stairs, each step echoing with the weight of their recent battle. The entrance to the Great Hall loomed ahead, a foreboding promise of more challenges to come.

Garrus took cover behind the first planter base, his sharp eyes scanning for threats, ready for whatever lay ahead.

Liara and Satima took side wall positions as Shepard forged ahead. The air grew thick with tension as cannibals crawled out from under dark vent holes, their grotesque forms illuminated by the dim, flickering lights. A familiar, bone-chilling shrill cry echoed through the room, sending shivers down their spines. "Great!" Satima shouted, her voice a mix of frustration and adrenaline.

"Everyone, focus on the Banshee!" Shepard's voice was a sharp, commanding roar over their comms.

Amidst the chaos, Liara's biotic warps cut through the air with precision, each blast a testament to her power. Garrus dropped two cannibals with expert shots, ensuring Shepard's path remained clear. "Always got your six!" he yelled, his voice brimming with confidence.

Shepard barely had time to react. With a swift, decisive motion, she meleed a cannibal that leaped in front of her. Meanwhile, Liara's biotic warps cut through the chaos, each strike precise and powerful. Satima, with her fierce determination, hurled her blades at the formidable Banshee. Without hesitation, she charged forward, her weapon blazing as she targeted the monstrous asari.

"Satima! Don't charge!" Shepard's voice rang out, sharp and urgent, cutting through the din of the battlefield.

But the hybrid did not heed the command. The banshee caught her mid-air as she attempted to plunge her omni-blade into its chest. Satima was flung down violently, the impact reverberating through the battlefield.
The monstrous asari bore down on Satima, its weight pinning her helplessly to the ground. Agony shot through her spine as the banshee applied crushing pressure, her armor straining under the might of the creature. Satima's shouts echoed through the battlefield, a desperate cry for salvation amidst the chaos.

Garrus and Liara launched a coordinated attack on the banshee. As Garrus fired precise shots, Liara's warp exploded against the creature's barrier. With its defenses shattered, Shepard seized the moment, raising her executioner pistol.

The banshee let out a piercing scream, its grotesque features twisting in rage. Shepard's eyes narrowed with resolve as she leveled her pistol. "Not today," she muttered under her breath. With a swift pull of the trigger, the weapon discharged with a deafening bang.

The banshee's head exploded like a melon, bits of brain matter splattering over the walls and floor. It fell backward with a loud thud, dead.

With the foot off Satima, she slowly raised herself up, every movement a grimace of pain. Her gaze met Shepard's, who advanced with a fearsome intensity in her eyes. Grabbing Satima by the shoulders, Shepard shook her fiercely, her voice a harsh whisper that cut through the lingering tension. "Don't you ever do that again! That's how the squad can get compromised!" She released her grip, leaving Satima to process the mix of authority and worry in Shepard's stare.

Satima stared at Shepard, her mind racing. Was there a glimmer of concern beneath Shepard's fierce exterior? Before she could process, Garrus jogged up behind them and gave Satima a friendly slap on the back. "Getting cocky, kid? That's how people get killed. Remember that," he said, a mix of sternness and camaraderie in his tone.

Satima nodded at this, her heart pounding with both relief and determination. As Liara passed by, she gave Satima a sly smile. "I think they might actually like you," she teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

As they bypassed yet another door, the team stepped into a vast atrium. The sight that greeted them was grim—a fallen commando, her lifeless form slumped against a stack of crates. A data pad lay discarded beside her, and the floor was stained with dark purple blood, a testament to the recent violence.

"Another dead commando. Was she holding off the reapers, or was she left behind?", Garrus said out loud.

Liara shook her head, "Commandos work in teams. She would've volunteered to guard this point."

"Hope she took some down before she died," Garrus muttered, his voice tinged with frustration. The weight of the loss hung heavily in the air, a grim reminder of the relentless battle they faced.

The elevator ahead loomed menacingly, casting long shadows that seemed to creep towards the team. Satima's gut churned with dread, but she knew they had no choice. The Great Hall awaited below, and with it, unknown horrors.

"What will we find?" Liara's voice was barely above a whisper, the tension palpable.

"A bar and non-reaperfied asari?", Satima said anxiously.

"Or a room full of Banshees," Garrus smirked, a dark edge to his voice.

"Which reminds me, don't pull another stunt like earlier again. Spirits, you act like a cadet..."

"How?" Satima's voice wavered, frustration mingling with fear.

"Impulsive, rash, stubborn..." he began, his tone growing sharper.

"Oh, so you're giving an example of yourself?" Shepard laughed, trying to cut the tension with a joke.

"...very funny Charlie..." Garrus muttered, though a hint of a smile tugged at his mandibles.

Liara smiled while shaking her head with a knowing look. Satima interrupted, her voice steadying, "I'll be more careful this time."

Garrus glanced towards her, his expression softening slightly, "See that you do," he nodded, the weight of their mission pressing heavily on them all.

The elevator stopped with a jolt, and the team cautiously stepped into the cavernous room. The walls seemed alive, carved in intricate patterns that draped like metal fabric, casting eerie reflections in the dim light. Tall glass windows offered a glimpse of the starry night sky, their glow illuminating the ominous object at the center.

A soft blue light pulsed from the bomb, casting long shadows and heightening the tension in the air.

"There's our bomb," Garrus said, his voice low and tense as they stepped forward, every muscle in their bodies coiled with anticipation.

"And Falere.", Shepard replies.

"Rila. Rila, wake up!", Falere mutters in the background. Shepard scans the area for reapers but finds none-yet.

Samara's voice was a strained whisper, "Falere. Rila cannot hear us."

Liara cautiously ascended the steps, her heart pounding as she approached Falere, who was desperately hovering over Rila. Pity and dread filled her eyes as she took in the scene. Garrus lingered at the bottom of the stairs, his gaze vigilant as he scanned the room for any sign of danger. Shepard, her expression a mixture of determination and sorrow, steadily advanced towards Falere and Rila.

Falere's voice trembled as she leaned closer to her sister, "Rila? Rila, can you hear me?" A moment of haunting silence followed before Rila's eyes snapped open, her gaze empty and unnerving. Slowly, she rose to her feet, turning her cold stare towards Falere.

Garrus moved stealthily over to the bomb during this tense moment. Everyone's eyes were glued to Rila as she clutched her head, her expression twisting in agony. The atmosphere was thick with apprehension, each second stretching into an eternity. Garrus noticed the asari girl flinch as he approached, her movements jittery, reflecting the fear that gripped them all.

Shepard and Liara exchange a tense glance as the girl's winces intensify. The reapers' influence is evident, and the fear of not reaching Rila in time hangs thick in the air. Satima stands frozen behind Shepard, her worry palpable as she watches the scene unfold.

Rila's hands drop to her sides, and her eyes snap open, revealing an abyss of darkness. Falere's breath catches in her throat. A malevolent grin spreads across Rila's face, sending a chill down everyone's spine.

Suddenly, with a guttural snarl, Rila lunges at Falere, her cold blue hands locking around her sister’s throat with a vice-like grip, her strength fueled by malevolent energy. With a surge of desperate strength, Falere manages to break free from her sister’s grasp, sending Rila sprawling to the ground. The strain of the indoctrination proves too much, and Rila quickly loses consciousness, her body collapsing in a heap.

"Why did she do that?" Falere asks, her voice trembling with hurt and confusion, as she struggles to understand what has become of her sister.
Samara stands beside Falere, her eyes filled with concern and sadness. "Because they have begun to turn her into one of the Reaper's creatures," she whispers, her voice trembling with the weight of their dire situation.

Satima gulps as too many similarities from her timeline come crashing down in her mind. She recalls the harrowing battles against reaper abominations, the relentless onslaughts, and the desperate moments when hope seemed all but lost. The sight of Rila’s transformation and the encroaching banshee triggers a flood of memories, each more haunting than the last. The weight of their dire situation presses on her, but she steels herself, determined to fight, to survive, and to protect those around her.

Shepard walked forward to Samara and Falere, her voice heavy with sorrow. "I'm so sorry." Her usual battle-hardened gaze softened with grief.

Shepard turned and hurriedly joined Liara and Garrus, her eyes reflecting both urgency and determination. "Can we set off that bomb?" she inquired, pointing towards it.

"Not without a detonator.", Garrus replied.

Shepard walked to the bomb, "Commandos would've had one. We've got to find it!" She began rummaging through the area.

In came a banshee, its eerie wail echoing through the chamber as it descended the stairs, eyes locked on its prey. Shepard's lips curled into a determined smirk as she loaded a fresh thermal clip. "Bring it on," she muttered, her voice steely and resolute.

Garrus took aim with his Mantis, the barrel gleaming under the dim light, while Liara’s biotics flared like a radiant starburst. Samara stepped forward, her presence commanding, as she summoned a shimmering shield barrier.

Shepard scanned the chaotic battlefield, her eyes darting to Satima. She quickly moved beside Samara, her voice urgent. "Get inside the barrier, kid. If things go south, blow this place to hell," Shepard commanded, her tone leaving no room for doubt.

Satima, her heart pounding, nodded firmly and slipped inside the protective barrier Samara conjured.

"Time to kick reaper ass.", Garrus says, cocking a fresh thermal clip into his mantis. Shepard smiled wickedly at that.

As the battle raged on, a horde of husks poured into the room, their grotesque forms charging straight towards Shepard. She began firing relentlessly, each shot taking down one of the abominations. They fell like fodder, paving the way for the next wave of enemies.

Cannibals crawled out from the shadows, their twisted bodies hungrily advancing. Liara quickly cast a singularity, creating a gravity well that drew them in, their limbs flailing helplessly in the vortex. Garrus, ever the sharpshooter, methodically threw proximity mines around the bottom of the stairs, ensuring that any stray husks would meet a swift end.

With the immediate threat subdued, Shepard scanned the room, her eyes locking onto the next challenge.

As the firefight intensified, two more banshees materialized, their shrill cries echoing through the chamber. Satima's face paled with worry, but Shepard remained unfazed. With steely determination, she unleashed a barrage of bullets, tearing down the barrier of the first banshee. Liara, her eyes blazing with focus, hurled warp after warp, each strike weakening the enemy further. Beside her, Garrus' Mantis rifle fired with precision, each shot a testament to his sharpshooting prowess.

In a final, desperate scream, the banshee crumbled into ash, its eerie presence vanquished.

The second banshee lunged behind Liara, its sharp claws nearly grazing her. She swiftly ducked, sprinting towards Garrus. "Are you alright?" he inquired, concern etched on his face. Liara, panting and eyes wide, nodded. "That was way too close."

Satima yells at Shepard, "Behind YOU!"

Before Shepard could react, a banshee lunged at her from the shadows, sending her crashing across the room and landing harshly on her leg, pain shooting through her body.

"Shepard!", Garrus cries out with desperation.

Liara shot at the approaching banshee, her biotics flaring with intensity. She swiftly grabbed Shepard, pulling her to her feet. "Shepard, are you okay?" she asked breathlessly.

Shepard, wincing from the pain but refusing to show weakness, shook off Liara's supportive grip. "I'm fine! Let's finish this!" she growled, determination shining in her eyes.

With a swift motion, Shepard fired her weapon at the banshee, her eyes blazing with fury. Garrus unleashed two more precise rounds into the creature. The banshee let out a blood-curdling scream of defeat, its twisted form collapsing to the ground, lifeless. Shepard holstered her rifle, her breath ragged but her resolve unshaken.

"That's the last one.", Liara added.

"For now, let's get back to the bomb," Shepard commanded, pushing through the pain and limping valiantly towards the critical device. Samara lowered the barrier, allowing Satima to sprint out, her eyes filled with determination and urgency.

"That was close. You're limping a little." Satima tried to stop Shepard, but she shrugged her off with a fierce determination.

Garrus, stepping up beside Shepard, placed a reassuring hand on Satima's shoulder. "Don't worry," he said with a confident grin. "I'll keep an eye on her. We've got this."

Falere dashed to Rila, her heart pounding in her chest. Rila quickly stood, facing her sister with a look of urgency. "Falere, go! Take the elevator," she commanded, her voice filled with desperation.

She had regained a part of her consciousness back, if only for a fleeting moment. Rila grasped Falere's hands with a desperate intensity. "Rila? What are you doing?" Falere asked, her voice trembling with fear and uncertainty.

"It's too late for me. There are hundreds coming. Just go!","Rila reaches behind her to a small pocket on her dress. She pulls out the detonator.
"...son of a..", Garrus mutters.

Samara's eyes met Rila's, a silent exchange of understanding passing between them. With a resolute nod, Samara turned her back on the perilous scene, her heart heavy yet determined. She cast one final, fleeting glance at Rila, etching the image of her bravery into her memory before striding purposefully towards the elevator.

Garrus and Liara quickly closed the distance, their determination unwavering. Satima began to retreat but noticed Falere resisting Shepard's firm grip. "Move!" Shepard commanded, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

"No! Rila!", Falere was pulled away by Shepard towards the elevator.
Rila looked at Falere with a saddened smile, "I love you."

Falere cried her name out loud repeatedly, struggling fiercely in Shepard's hold. As they all reached the stairs to the elevator, the air was pierced with shrill cries, filling the large room with an ominous tension.

Rila resisted their indoctrinated screeches, her eyes turning black as she clutched the detonator with a vice-like grip. Banshees, dozens of them, closed in, their menacing forms stalking through the shadows.

Satima turned around, her heart racing, and saw Rila helplessly dangled by the impaled claws of one of the banshees. The elevator doors began to close, the last glimpse of Rila's desperate struggle burned into their minds. The banshee screeched as Rila's voice broke through the chaos, her final words becoming an anguished echo in their ears.

Rila felt the stabbing pain in her chest as the banshee held her high to its mutated face. It screeched at her in an angry tone. "We're not your slaves.", Rila replied before dying in its cold grasp. Her lifeless finger sliding off the red button of the detonator.

The ground trembled violently as a deafening explosion erupted from the Great Hall, sending shockwaves through the elevator. The walls seemed to close in as they felt the intensity of the blast radiate through the structure, a grim reminder of the peril they narrowly escaped.

Falere banged on the door hard, the force of her blows waning as the weight of reality settled in. The realization that Rila was truly gone hit her with a crushing finality.

Shepard let out a heavy sigh amidst Falere's heart-wrenching sobs, placing a gentle yet burdened hand on her shoulder. Liara watched in silence, her eyes reflecting the weight of shared sorrow.

Satima stood in the corner, completely torn between what was right and what was necessary. They made their way back to the landing pad, each step heavy with the weight of their loss. The air was thick with sorrow, and the silence between them spoke volumes. As they slowly disembarked, the overwhelming sadness enveloped them, reminding them of the tremendous sacrifice that had just been made.

Falere walked to the balcony ledge, her gaze fixed on the mountains shrouded in smoke from the fiery ruin below. Samara stepped beside her, the weight of their loss pressing down on them. "Rila... there wasn't even time to say goodbye," Falere whispered, her voice trembling with grief.

"Few can break the reaper's hold. Rila's will was extraordinary, as was her love for you.", Samara admitted.

Falere turned around with tears streaming down her face. "We left her to die!"

Samara's mind raced, struggling to reconcile the torrent of emotions within her. It had been years since she last laid eyes on her children. "Rila made her choice," she said, the words heavy with sorrow, "and it reminds me of what truly matters, why I swore to lay down my life."

"What is that?", Falere asked, her voice trembling with apprehension.

Samara turned to her last living child,"Falere...the Code demands an Ardat-Yakshi cannot live outside a monastery that no longer exists." She pulled a pistol from her side.

Shepard became concerned at the impending situation, "What are you doing?"

"I'm sorry, Shepard. By the Justicar's Code...there is only one way to save Falere." Samara points the pistol to her temple.

"Mother, no!", Falere shouts pleadingly.

Satima gasped, her breath catching in her throat, as the realization of Samara's intent hit her like a wave. Her hands trembled uncontrollably, eyes wide with shock and horror.

"My daughters... You were always so much stronger than I believed," Samara's voice cracked as she raised the pistol, her hand shaking. Before she could act, Shepard lunged, seizing the weapon and wrenching it from her grasp. She held Samara's hands tightly behind her back, her eyes blazing with fury.

Samara struggled against Shepard, "Let...go."

"What are you doing!", Shepard yelled, voice cracking with urgency.

"Fulfilling the code.", Samara replied.

"By throwing your life away?", Charlie Shepard gritted her teeth in anger. Here was a capable, strong woman who had equally capable daughters. Falere would need her, especially now. The room's tension grew palpable, and every second seemed to stretch into eternity.

Samara turned to face Shepard, "I won't kill my last daughter!"

"You won't have to!", Falere stated.

"Falere?", Samara spoke while looking to Shepard. She was let free.

"I'll stay here-home-no matter what's become of it.", Falere approached Samara.

"Without a proper monastery...", Samara began worried.

"I could have left at any time. I don't need a building to honor my own code. And if the Reapers return, they won't take me alive, I promise.", Falere said matter of fact.

The wind blasted on the surface of the monastery. A small sound of quiet surrounded them. Samara relaxed her stance. " Then...the Code permits you to stay, as you are."

Falere embraced her mother, the weight of their shared sorrow heavy in the air. Samara felt a fleeting sense of peace, one that she hadn't known for many years. "Once this war is over, and if fate allows, I will return. As a justicar should."

Shepard stood beside Samara once more. "You know, if you wanted to stay and help Falere rebuild a home here, I'd completely understand."
Samara's eyes softened for a moment, but her resolve remained firm. "It must wait. For now, I can help oppose the Reapers. I'll speak with Falere, then join your forces. If you'll have me, of course."

Shepard smiled, "I'd be honored."

Samara nods her head in respect, "The honor is mine, my friend."
Samara and Falere walked away toward the elevator shaft, their steps echoing with the weight of their shared resolve. Shepard watched them for a moment, then signaled Cortez. "Everything's settled here. Bring in the shuttle."

"Right, Commander. I'll just follow the smoke," Cortez replied with a smirk.
Shepard chuckled, the tension easing from their shoulders. Moments like these were rare, and amidst the chaos, they offered a brief respite.

Satima and Liara's laughter drifted over, joined by Garrus shaking his head as he checked his Mantis. The camaraderie was a quiet reminder of what they were fighting for—a chance to rebuild, to find peace amidst the war.

Back aboard the Normandy, Shepard steps into the com room, ready to relay the harrowing events at the monastery to the asari councilor. She takes a deep breath and activates the console, her image flickering into view on the councilor's screen.

"I read your report Commander. We had no idea the situation deteriorated so quickly.", the asari councilor's image phased in and out. Quantum entanglement issues.

"That's why I set off the bomb. There are no Ardat-Yakshi left.", Shepard informed.

"May the Ardat-Yakshi rest in peace. What the Reapers did to them was monstrous. I had another team of commandos headed to the monastery who I can now formally transfer to Admiral Hackett's command.", she smiled. "They'll serve you loyally Commander. Farewell." She bowed out. The com call successfully ended.

Traynor interrupted Shepard's thoughts with news of an incoming call from Anderson. Shepard nodded and headed towards the comm room, her mind still occupied with the day's events. Satima, now exploring the ship beyond deck three, ventured into the war room, her eyes wide with curiosity and determination.

The crucible's image lit up over the GUI interface. Satima looked over it twice.

Shepard concluded her call and descended the short stairs to meet Satima. Her mind raced with curiosity as she studied the girl’s prominent brow and determined demeanor, marveling at the thought of such a remarkable individual being created in a lab.

Miranda had faced similar uncertainties about her origins but had the luxury of knowing her parent. Satima, however, carried an even greater uniqueness as a hybrid. "Discover anything intriguing?" Shepard asked, curiosity piqued as she watched the girl's focused expression.

Satima glanced to Shepard, "One hell of a ship.", she gestured.

Shepard mulled over Satima's recent actions, her thoughts a whirlwind of admiration and concern. Satima had courageously thrown herself into danger, shielding Shepard from the banshee's relentless attack. "Satima?" she called out, her voice gentle yet firm. The girl turned to face her, curiosity sparking in her eyes.

"Do you know anything about your origins? I mean, do you have any idea where your DNA comes from? Or was it all just random genetic tinkering by the directive?" Shepard leaned in, her eyes searching Satima's for any flicker of emotion or hidden truth.

Satima leaned over the panel with her, facing the opposite stairs she came down. "I don't know anything.", she lied.

Shepard scooted closer to the girl, her eyes narrowing with a blend of curiosity and concern. "You mean to say you weren't told anything? Haven't you seen any files or stumbled upon any data that might shed light on where all this testing was done on you?"

Satima looked at Shepard puzzled, "Why does it matter where my DNA comes from?" She averted her gaze back to the interface, her voice tinged with defensiveness. "I'm human and half turian, that's all there is to it."

Shepard took a step back, sensing the sensitivity radiating from Satima. "Alright, the past doesn't matter. What counts is the here and now, and who you choose to become," she assured, her voice brimming with encouragement.

Satima didn't respond, her eyes darting nervously around the room, avoiding Shepard's gaze. The air between them grew thick with unspoken tension as Shepard stared at her, waiting for any sign of truth.

Shepard's eyes softened as she observed Satima's struggle. "You know," she began, her tone gentle yet persuasive, "it might be a good idea to head over to Chockwas. That banshee did a number on you, and it's better to be safe than sorry."

Satima gave a quick nod, glancing back at Shepard with a mixture of relief and determination. "Yes, Shepard," she replied, before making her way up the short steps of the war room.

As Satima entered the med bay, her gaze met Dr. Chockwas's steady, reassuring eyes. "You're fortunate," Chockwas remarked, her voice filled with a mixture of relief and admiration. "Your natural plating saved you from what could have been a catastrophic injury."

The doctor deftly prepared a syringe, its contents a shimmering blue fluid. With practiced precision, she injected it into Satima's back. "This will help with the pain," Chockwas explained.

Satima winced from the injection, more from habit than pain. "What's that?", she asked, her curiosity piqued as she pointed to the injector.

Chockwas glanced her way, then finished disposing of the used piece in a bio-hazard container. "Painkiller. Just a small dose to ease you through," she replied, her tone reassuring.

Satima nodded in gratitude, her mind swirling with thoughts. As Dr. Chockwas prepared to examine her injury, Satima removed her armor and slowly pulled down the top of her under suit, exposing the intricate, delicate plating on her back. The cool air of the med bay sent a shiver down her spine, and she felt a mix of vulnerability and determination.
Chockwas's practiced fingers gently traced the edges of the plates, her touch both clinical and caring. "You're healing well," she remarked, her voice a soothing balm.

Satima managed a small smile, appreciating the doctor's reassurance. "Thank you, Dr. Chockwas," she murmured, her voice steady but soft.
The door to the med bay slid open with a quiet hiss, and Satima's heart skipped a beat as she heard the familiar footsteps of Liara. The Asari's gaze fell upon Satima's exposed back, and she quickly averted her eyes.

Liara's eyes fell upon the intricate wonder of Satima's back. Delicate, interlocking plates, reminiscent of a young turian's protective armor, started from her lower spine and ascended in a graceful, organic pattern. They formed a slightly raised carapace that shielded her shoulder blades, extending upwards to embrace the nape of her neck. The iridescent tendrils of the plating wove around her collarbone, creating a mesmerizing contrast with the smooth skin of her chest, which retained a distinctly human softness. The sight was both alien and beautiful, a testament to Satima's unique resilience and strength.

Liara had unintentionally viewed the girl's plated back and felt a little awful for invading the hybrid’s privacy. Satima, gasping in embarrassment, quickly put her under suit back on.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to look.", Liara said nervously.

Satima hopped off the table and faced Liara, her eyes searching for a connection. "It's alright," she said softly, though her voice carried the weight of years of struggle. "I know I'm different. I just don't like people staring at me." She offered a half-smile, a gesture of understanding amidst the vulnerability.

Liara, sensing the depth of Satima's emotions, gave a gentle nod and quietly slipped out of the med bay. The weight of the moment lingered, and her own questions for Dr. Chockwas would have to wait.

Satima then made her way to the core room, the weight of her thoughts heavy on her shoulders. Standing in the center, she closed her eyes and let the hum of the ship's engines soothe her. She replayed the conversation she had with Shepard, each word echoing in her mind with clear significance.

She knew it was better to let the matter go, but the gnawing anxiety refused to release its grip. The issue of the Reapers loomed larger and more pressing. She sat on the floor, her eyes darting around the room, taking in every detail. Reaper and Archer were here. The Sentarians were here. The atmosphere was thick with tension, and the sense of impending confrontation was near.

They're hiding somewhere in this galaxy, and it terrifies her. She hopes Reaper will forgive her for being rash. It's the directive and their control. Isn't it? Satima feels the dread overwhelming her. When they all finally meet, it won't be pretty.

Chapter Text

In the days following the Messana incident, Normandy once again docked at the bustling citadel. The air was charged with anticipation as each crew member received their updated duty rosters, determining who was on shift and who had the luxury of leave for some much-needed rest and relaxation.

As soon as the docking tube settled in place, the crew buzzed with activity, splitting between ship and citadel duties. The hustle and bustle of the citadel seemed to mirror the excitement of the Normandy's crew. Satima, with a determined glint in her eye, patiently waited until the moment was right before slipping away towards the airlock.

She noticed Traynor deep in conversation with another crew member. Trying to appear nonchalant, she quickened her pace. "Where are you off to? Did the Commander give you the green light?" Traynor's tone was firm, her eyes narrowing slightly as she questioned the hybrid girl.

Satima stopped just short of the airlock, her eyes narrowing in annoyance before she spun on her heel. With a smirk that hinted at mischief, she took two deliberate steps back towards Traynor. "Of course, she did. I just confirmed it on my comms," she said, her tone dripping with feigned innocence.

Traynor began to question about Satima's private comms, when the hybrid girl disappeared behind the airlock with a sly grin. The tension hung in the air, leaving Traynor with a sense of unease as she watched her slip away.

EDI's voice crackled over Traynor's communicator, "Shepard did not authorize Satima's departure." Traynor's frustration was visible as she clenched her fists, muttering under her breath. She swiftly composed herself and tapped out a quick message to the commander, briefing her on the situation.

Meanwhile, Shepard had left just thirty minutes prior, seeking solace in the bustling heart of the presidium. The rhythmic hum of sky cars and the murmur of citizens created a symphony that accompanied her footsteps. This stroll around the wards, a ritual of sorts, allowed the commander to clear her mind and momentarily escape the weight of her responsibilities.

The background noise of citizens and sky cars created a lively backdrop as Shepard strolled past the bustling shops, her hands firmly tucked into the pockets of her jacket. Each step seemed to echo her thoughts, the vibrant energy of the presidium weaving a tapestry of sounds and colors around her.

Her mind fixated on Satima. So, the girl is human and turian. Her features fit the bill, yet her origins remain shrouded in mystery. Could she be part of the ancient race known as the Sentarians, sent through the conduit on a secret mission? The possibilities were endless, and the intrigue only deepened.

Satima had always been an enigma, creating an undercurrent of tension among the crew. Her uneasy alliance with Garrus, fraught with mistrust, had begun to show signs of thawing into a tentative camaraderie. Meanwhile, the rest of the crew maintained a respectful silence on the matter, their curiosity piqued yet unvoiced.

Could she be a spy? Was she working for the Illusive Man all along? The notion seemed preposterous yet eerily plausible. It would be just like him to create a hybrid of species, using her as a pawn in his grand scheme.
Her thoughts wandered back to Satima's mysterious past and unusual disappearance during the coup. Shepard's curiosity piqued as she approached the entrance of a pulsating club, its rhythmic music reverberating through the streets.

She couldn't resist the magnetic pull and decided to step inside.

Shepard walked through the purple sliding doors, stepping into a dimly lit dance floor awash in vibrant neon blues. The rhythmic beats of the music pulsed through the air, making the ground beneath her feet vibrate. Asari dancers moved gracefully in sync with the music, their movements fluid and mesmerizing, while other species mingled and joined in the dance.

Shepard stood watching, her mind racing with thoughts. In the corner of the bar to her left, she heard a lively laugh that caught her attention. Turning to look, she spotted Satima, her eyes glinting with mischief as she nursed an amber drink while chatting animatedly with two Quarians. The scene was almost surreal, an odd juxtaposition of casual camaraderie in the midst of uncertainty and secrets. Shepard's curiosity deepened as she prepared to approach.

"What species are you? Are you truly the first of your kind?", a female quarian in a sleek grey suit questioned, her voice tinged with curiosity and awe.

"Absolutely," Satima replied with a playful grin, finishing off the last of her drink with a flourish.

"Keelah, doesn't that get lonely?", the second Quarian in a dull green suit asked, his voice tinged with genuine curiosity.

Satima wiped a loose strand of hair from her eyes and paused, her smile growing wider. She leaned in, a playful glint in her eye. "That doesn't matter," she said with a wink before taking another sip of her drink.

They exchanged a glance, silently agreeing as they signaled the bartender for another round. Shepard stepped toward the bar, her curiosity piqued. The counter, a sleek expanse of polished metal, shimmered under the club's pulsating lights, its surface adorned with intricate V-pattern indentations that reflected the vibrant hues around them.

They all sat on illuminated stools that glowed with a vibrant orange hue. Satima took another sip of her drink when Shepard, with a sly smile, placed a hand on her shoulder. "Funny finding you here," she remarked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Satima snapped her head towards Shepard with a surprised look, her eyes widening as she processed the unexpected encounter. She slammed her drink down on the counter with a force that caused the liquid to ripple.

The two Quarians, who had been engrossed in their conversation, began to rise from their seats, their body language indicating uncertainty.
Shepard, sensing the tension, quickly intervened with a disarming smile. "No, don't leave! I was just in the area and thought I'd check out this place." Her tone was casual, but her eyes never left Satima, who raised an eyebrow in skepticism.

A playful challenge danced in Shepard's eyes as she took in the scene. The vibrant lights of the club reflected off the polished metal counter, casting a kaleidoscope of colors on their faces. The atmosphere was electric, charged with the energy of the dancing crowd and the thumping beats of the music.

Satima's expression softened slightly, a hint of amusement lurking at the corners of her mouth. The Quarians exchanged glances, unsure of what to make of the situation but evidently intrigued by the unexpected visitor.
Shepard's smile widened, her curiosity piqued even further. "So, Satima, care to introduce me to your friends?" she asked, her voice carrying a blend of genuine interest and subtle authority.

Shepard slipped her hands back into the pockets of her jacket, rocking slightly on her heels as an awkward silence settled over them, surprisingly palpable amidst the pulsating beats of the club. Satima leaned back against the counter, her elbows resting on its cool surface, a hint of a smirk playing at her lips. The two Quarians fidgeted, their movements betraying their unease.

At this moment, a rhythmic beat came on. Many club goers started to dance furiously to the music.

Satima gave a mock smile to Shepard, "You dance?", she asked smirking.
Shepard tilted her head smiling likewise, "You're getting to be a real smart ass lately."

Satima took a sip and nodded to the Quarians. She stood up facing Shepard, "The floor is yours.", she gestured teasingly, "I have other places to check out." and walked out of the club.

Shepard watched the young hybrid leave, with an irritated glare. The two Quarians began to sit up when the commander took Satima's seat and started talking, "So, how's the pilgrimage going?"

They looked at each other.

"It's alright, considering...", the male stopped as his female friend nudged him hard in the gut.

"Shalim, don't talk about it!” she said in concerned fear.

Shepard leaned in with a conspiratorial smile, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Come on, you can trust me. After all, I'm Commander Shepard. If there's any trouble you're facing, I want to help." She offered a reassuring nod, her presence exuding confidence.

Shalim fidgeted with his drink, "...the war, but that's all I can say."

Shepard noted their apprehensiveness, then replied. "You mean with the reapers? I understand your people have been silent since it began."

"No, not that war. It's... complicated," Shalim's voice trembled slightly, as if he was divulging a forbidden secret.

"Okay, I won't pressure you," Shepard said, raising her glass to them. "To the success of your pilgrimage, Keelah'Sa-lai." She flashed a confident smile, her eyes gleaming with genuine warmth and encouragement, hoping to ease their tension and build a bridge of trust.
................................................

Satima ventured out into the upper wards, her steps carrying a mix of determination and trepidation. The memory of her journey through the conduit was vivid, each decision weighed with the hope of making a difference. She had risked everything, leaving behind the familiarity of the world she knew for a chance to create change, to save those she loved.

Her mind raced with thoughts of the past, the sacrifices made, and the urgency of her mission. As she walked, the energy of the bustling city enveloped her, a stark contrast to the quiet resolve within her. The vibrant sights and sounds of the upper wards were a reminder of the life she was fighting for. It was a sliver of hope that pushed her forward, igniting a resolve deep within her heart.

With each step, Satima's resolve strengthened. The conduit had brought her here, and she was determined to make every moment count. The future was uncertain, but her purpose was clear—to make a difference in a galaxy that desperately needed it.

Eventually, Satima's steps led her to the presidium gardens, a serene oasis amidst the bustling energy of the city. The vibrant flora and flowing water features provided a momentary escape from the gravity of her mission. As she wandered further, her eyes caught sight of the financial district's sleek architecture, a symbol of the intricate balance of power and commerce within the galaxy.

Her attention was then drawn to an upper-level restaurant, its inviting ambiance standing out amidst the towering structures. The sign read "Apollo Café," an intriguing name that promised a respite from her arduous journey. Satima's curiosity piqued, she decided to explore this alluring establishment, hoping to find a moment of solace and perhaps a hint of the normalcy she once knew.

One elevator ride later, Satima stepped out to a breathtaking view, the presidium sprawled below in a symphony of modern architecture and perpetual daylight. She leaned over the rail, captivated by the ceaseless flow of sky cars zipping past, weaving a tapestry of movement and light. The scene was mesmerizing, a vivid reminder of the bustling life she was so determined to protect.

People were chatting animatedly around her, and she noticed a bird perched on a girder below, fluttering its wings before taking off gracefully. Satima's thoughts drifted to Haven, the life she missed among the stars, and her dear friend Jormun. Where are you, D'ova? she wondered, her mind filled with memories of her salarian companion from what seemed like another lifetime.

Sighing to herself, she went back to exploring. To her left was a set of stairs and to her right, another corridor. She took the right.

As Satima ventured further, the path ahead was littered with the remnants of chaos. Damaged holo-grid advertisements flickered weakly, casting ghostly glows across the avenue. Citizens of various races moved about, tending to each other with hushed words of comfort, their faces etched with the lingering trauma of the recent Cerberus attack. Shattered glass crunched beneath her boots, and caution tape fluttered like forlorn banners, cordoning off the most dangerous areas.

Her heart ached at the sight, a heavy reminder of the fragility of peace. Yet, amidst the devastation, there was a sense of resilience in the air, a collective determination to rebuild and heal. This invigorating spirit fueled her steps as she navigated through the upper wards, each stride bringing her closer to her goal.

She descended the stairs, each step bringing the inviting ambiance of the café below into sharper focus. Through a small garden, she glimpsed an asari standing alone on the landing, her gestures frantic as she spoke into her communicator.

The woman's distress was visible, her voice carrying a blend of desperation and hope that tugged at Satima's heart. Unable to ignore the asari's plight, Satima listened intently.

"Her name is Tashya Porae. Of course-P.O.R.A.E. No, I realize you can't tell me where she was deployed. Can you at least inform me if she's under orders not to communicate with her family? It's...been awhile since I heard from her. Uh-Uh. But, I would be contacted if she were injured, correct? Yes, I'm listed as her bond mate. Yes...I can hold."

In a swift and graceful motion, she vaulted over the garden base, her landing beside the asari marked by the soft rustle of leaves and a startled gasp from the distressed woman."I didn't mean to startle you. I couldn't help but overhear.", Satima said apologetically.

"It's alright, I suppose. I'm Weshra. I've been trying to get a hold of Asari command for days, looking for my bond mate, Tashya.", her eyes were red from obviously crying too much.

Satima's heart sank as she recognized the name Weshra. Memories from Messana flooded back, the haunting image of the fallen asari still vivid. With a heavy sigh, she activated her omni-tool and located the audio log she had downloaded. "I believe you'll want to hear this," she said softly, her voice tinged with sorrow.

Weshra listened with a heavy heart. As the message played, her expression shifted to one of profound sorrow.

"No...not Tashya." Weshra's voice trembled as she wiped a tear from her eye. She swallowed hard, her eyes reflecting a deep sorrow. "Thank you for bringing this back. At least now I know what happened." With a heavy heart, she managed a faint, appreciative smile before shaking Satima's hand.

Satima smiled faintly, watching Weshra disappear slowly down the stairwell, her silhouette a shadow of grief. A sharp pang of sorrow twisted in her chest as thoughts of Jormun filled her mind. She leaned against the cool rail, taking a deep, steadying breath, the weight of loss settling heavily on her shoulders.

It was time to seek solace in the quiet ambiance of the café below, where perhaps a moment of peace awaited amidst the chaos.
.............................
Meanwhile, Shepard's omni-tool buzzed with a message from Aria as she strolled down one of the many avenues on the presidium. "It's time," the message read, its brevity laden with urgency and promise.

Shepard quickly checked the Normandy's status, confirming it was securely docked. As the elevator ascended to Dock 42, she sent a discreet message to EDI, detailing the covert mission she had planned with Aria at the Purgatory club.

What if Garrus finds out? He'll try to join the mission, and worse, he'll plead with that worried tone she could never resist. Her thoughts raced as the elevator pinged, signaling the start of her covert operation.

Shepard stepped out to a bustling walkway, her gaze locking onto a batarian waiting at the end. He stood imposingly, guarding a locked elevator with an air of nonchalance.

"Are you Bray?" she asked, her voice steady yet authoritative.

"The great Commander Shepard. Heh, and me without my autograph book.", his sarcasm heavily intended for her.

"Save it. Just take me to Aria.", she spoke irritated.

"Follow me," Bray commanded with a hint of mischief in his eyes, leading Shepard to a sleek, black sky cab. Inside, Aria sat, her impatience palpable as she drummed her fingers against the armrest.

Aria's briefing for her bold plan to reclaim Omega was tense, her voice sharp with defiance as she described how Cerberus had wrenched the station from her iron grip. Her eyes blazed with determination, each word laced with the promise of vengeance.

Petrovsky, a shrewd and calculating general, now held Omega in his iron grip. But Aria was never one to surrender easily. Her fierce determination to reclaim her territory burned brightly, igniting a spark in Shepard. Together, they formed an alliance, ready to deploy mercenary gangs with ruthless precision against the Reapers. The battle for Omega was just beginning, and they would stop at nothing to win it back.

Their rogue tactics and brutal combat skills will be useful on the fringes of the Terminus systems and beyond.

After sealing the deal, Shepard rode the cab back to the docks, her mind racing with the details of their bold plan. As the cab came to a halt, her eyes widened in surprise—Garrus was standing there, a familiar silhouette against the bustling backdrop.

A pang of worry hit her; if Garrus found out about the mission, there'd be no stopping him from trying to join. She could already hear his earnest pleas, that concerned tone she found impossible to resist. She needed to ensure he stayed away; his past as Archangel was too much of a risk.

Shepard stepped out onto the walkway, her eyes narrowing as she saw the familiar figure. "Garrus. What's going on?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

"I thought you and I could spend some time together," Garrus started, his voice softening as he stepped closer. "There's a place I've always wanted to go with you, but never had the chance. Let's make it happen today." His eyes held a mixture of excitement and longing, making it hard for Shepard to refuse.

Aria's plan was still looming, and Shepard had only two hours to prepare for their mission to Omega. Yet, Garrus's unexpected request tugged at her heart. How could she say no?

Shepard followed him, eager to see this special place.

They walked together, side by side, until they reached a long, secluded walkway that was clearly marked as off-limits. Garrus smirked and disabled the security lock with a deft twist of his wrist. The gate swung open, revealing a breathtaking view of the city below.

"I thought we could have a little fun," Garrus said, pulling out a pair of sniper rifles. He handed one to Shepard, who took it with a raised eyebrow. "Remember those shooting sessions back on the Normandy? I figured we could relive some of those moments."

Shepard smiled, a playful glint in her eye. "Oh, I am going to wipe the floor with you, Vakarian," she teased, her voice laced with flirtation. She bit her lip, letting her mind wander to more intimate thoughts, before offering him a sultry grin. "Let's see if your aim is as good as your charm."

Garrus felt a rush of warmth as he gazed into Shepard’s eyes. “Let’s see who wins first,” he murmured, his voice imbued with a playful challenge. Shepard's heart fluttered, the anticipation of their game mingling with a deeper longing. The sweet tension between them lingered, each moment together a precious escape from their burdens.
...........

Meanwhile, Satima savored her light meal at the bustling cafe, enjoying a rare moment of peace while observing the lively scene around her. Patrons chatted amiably, and for once, there was no sign of the typical chaos that often erupted in such public spaces.

The bartender, too, seemed relieved, serving drinks with a relaxed smile. It was a refreshing change, a brief escape from the usual turmoil.

After enjoying her peaceful moment at the café, Satima received an unexpected message summoning her to the bustling shopping mall. The sender? None other than Shepard. Intrigued and without hesitation, she made her way towards the meeting point, curiosity piqued. The stairwell leading to a balcony overlooking the plaza below offered her a perfect vantage point. From there, she could spot Shepard and Garrus, their figures unmistakable amidst the crowd.

It was curious as to why this location was picked considering she could see that Shepard was busy with Garrus. Satima heard heavy booted footsteps quickly gain traction behind her. Her pulse quickened, and she instinctively reached for her sidearm, only realizing it was left back on the Normandy due to security.

Satima turned around abruptly, her heart pounding in her chest. The sight before her made her gasp in horror. "I see you've taken quite well to the suit," Archer sneered, his grin stretching wider as he circled her like a predator. "The nanites have accepted your mutation upgrades flawlessly."

Satima's heart quickened, her instincts screaming to fight back, yet she was paralyzed by his sinister command. Her entire body felt like it was ensnared in invisible chains, each word from Archer tightening the grip. Could he truly use the Reaper's control against her? Her mother would know the truth, but she was systems away, hiding, waiting. For what?

Satima's mind raced. She didn't have the luxury of time. "What do you want?" she demanded, her voice edged with fear.

"Look at them," Archer pointed, his gaze intensifying on the two legends below. The neon signs of various shops glowed eerily on the floor where they stood. Shepard and Garrus, oblivious to the danger above, acted like any normal couple, laughing and teasing each other. Garrus attempted to fend off Shepard’s playful smacks and pushes, his laughter mingling with hers—a stark contrast to the sinister tension enveloping Satima and Archer.

Likewise, she would taunt him only a little with a slight kiss on his mandible. Satima had a sentimental feeling about them. She wanted to protect their genuine love before the reapers destroyed it. "Please... don't hurt them," she begged, her voice trembling with desperation.

Archer cupped her jaw, turning the hybrid's gaze to him. He grinned with every ounce of sinister intent, shoving a crude rifle to her chest.

"It won't be me that does them harm.", the reaper droid mused. His grin sharpened to a predator's gaze. "I think it's time for a little... experiment."

Satima reluctantly took the rifle, her hands trembling. Archer loomed behind her, his presence a suffocating weight. "Now, to one knee," he commanded, his voice wrapping around her like a vice. "Place the barrel over the rail to balance your shot."

Satima knelt with a pained groan, her muscles straining against her will. Archer knelt close to her left ear, his breath cold against her skin. "Begin to aim, closing in on your target," he whispered, his voice dripping with malice. Satima's hands moved involuntarily, positioning the rifle and looking through the scope. The image of Shepard magnified before her eyes, and despite her internal screams to stop, her body obeyed Archer's command.

Her heart pounded hard, barely leaving her a breath to take. "Please, not Shepard!" she cried out, her voice breaking with desperation. "I can't... I won't do this!"

Without warning, her body moved with a sudden, involuntary jerk, and the rifle found a new target. Garrus.

He stood next to an entrance to shops, laughing at whatever Shepard was saying. "Aim," Archer demanded in a low menacing tone, his voice dripping with malice.

Satima cocked the clip, her finger trembling on the trigger. Cold sweat trickled down her cheeks, mingling with the hot tears that streamed from her eyes. Her breath hitched, heart pounding like a war drum in her chest. The weight of the rifle seemed to double as the reality of her actions pressed heavily upon her conscience.

This moment of cruelty painted a vivid and terrifying picture of the reapers' power. They could turn any person into a weapon, a tool for destruction, capable of obliterating entire futures and altering the course of the galaxy forever. Satima's mind screamed in silent agony, her soul battling against the dark command that sought to bend her will.

Killing Garrus at this moment could unravel everything, creating devastating ripples across their future. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily, as Archer's control tightened like a noose. Satima's mind raced, desperation mounting with each heartbeat.

His control is absolute. She can't harm him. But the hybrid can harm someone else.

Satima's heart pounded as she reached down slowly, her right hand inching towards the blade while her left hand kept the rifle steady, finger trembling on the trigger. Archer's sadistic glee blinded him to her movements. She gripped the hilt tightly, her pulse racing, and with a swift motion, pulled the blade from its sheath.

"Fire!", he ordered excitedly.

The rifle fired with a deafening crack just as Shepard yanked Garrus down to the ground, both narrowly avoiding the bullet that whizzed past and shattered the wall above them. Shepard's quick reflexes had saved Garrus from certain death.

Panic erupted like a tidal wave throughout the plaza, screams piercing the air and bodies scrambling for cover. The deafening crack of the rifle shot reverberated in Satima's ears as a cry of sheer terror echoed from across the courtyard.

Satima, with a fierce and desperate resolve, jammed the blade forcefully into her thigh. Pain exploded through her body, the agony of sharp metal slicing through flesh and grinding against bone. The rifle dropped from her grasp, the shot firing wildly into the ceiling. Her action had saved Garrus but enraged her tormentor beyond measure.

Archer watched her writhe in agony, a sinister satisfaction flickering in his eyes as he realized the sheer strength of her will. Was it cleverness and sacrifice that drove her? Satima's pained gasps echoed through the chaos, a testament to her unyielding spirit, as Shepard and Garrus hurriedly made their way to the stairwell, every second a desperate race against time.

Archer's gaze remained cold and calculating as he stared at the hybrid. "One day, Satima," he hissed. "One day, they will not come. You will lie bleeding, dying, and alone. You'll see." His voice dripped with malevolent satisfaction as he savored the fruits of his twisted experiment.

Shepard sprinted to the balcony, her heart pounding as she saw Satima clutching her leg, blood streaming through her fingers. "What happened?" she asked, her voice filled with urgency as she knelt down to examine the wound. Garrus, eyes sharp and alert, spotted the rifle dangling precariously over the railing.

"Archer. It was him. He... he tried to kill you," Satima gasped, her voice trembling with pain. Blood gushed through her fingers as she clutched her wounded leg, the agony of the blade embedded in her bone almost unbearable.

Shepard examined the wound with a furrowed brow. "This is deep, Satima. We need to move!" She motioned urgently to Garrus, and together, they carefully lifted her. Satima gritted her teeth against the pain, her face pale but determined. They half-carried, half-dragged her through the chaotic plaza towards the nearest cab, their hearts pounding in unison as they raced against time to get her to the hospital.

During the shuttle ride, Shepard kept a protective watch over Satima, driving with a determined focus. Garrus, however, couldn't shake the nagging doubts gnawing at his mind. The pieces just didn't add up. Archer was nowhere in sight when the shot was fired, yet the bullet had been aimed with lethal precision at him.

He observed her closely, noting the pained wince as she tried to steady the embedded blade. There was something unsettling about her calm demeanor amidst the chaos. The rifle, hanging so carelessly over the railing, seemed like an afterthought, a setup perhaps?

With each jolt of turbulence, Garrus's suspicion grew. Could Satima be working undercover, feeding intel to their enemies? He recalled their heated argument in the core room and her cryptic words about her capabilities. Was this her way of throwing them off her trail, or was there a deeper, more sinister motive at play?

As the shuttle approached the hospital, Garrus's mind raced with questions. Was Satima a spy for the Illusive Man? Or worse, a creation of Harbinger meant to destroy them from within? His instincts, honed from years in C-Sec, screamed that something was amiss, and he vowed to uncover the truth, no matter the cost.

Satima glanced at Garrus's troubling gaze from the reflection of the shuttle's window. She could sense the doubt and suspicion emanating from him, feeling the weight of his scrutiny. He was searching for answers, ones that would force Shepard to distrust her. The thought sent a cold shiver down her spine, her focus wavering between the physical pain and the fear of losing Shepard's trust. She steeled herself, knowing that any sign of weakness could confirm Garrus's doubts.

She needed to stay calm, composed, and above all, convincing, to protect her place within the team and the mission at hand.

Once inside Huerta, Satima was swiftly whisked away to the emergency center. Shepard's mind raced as she paced the lobby, contemplating the potential consequences of Satima's injury. Would this leg wound sideline her from future missions? The thought of losing such a fierce and determined ally, even temporarily, gnawed at her.

Meanwhile, Garrus couldn't dispel the shadows of doubt that clouded his thoughts. Despite the urgency of their mission, the pieces of the puzzle refused to align, leaving a nagging suspicion in his heart. As they waited for news from the medical team, the tension was evident, each second stretching into an eternity.

Finally, a nurse emerged with an update on Satima's condition, shattering the silence with a much-needed beacon of hope.
They could go see her now.

In the small, sterile room, Satima sat up in her bed, her eyes fixed on the bustling cityscape outside the window. The sky cars zoomed by, a blur of lights and colors that seemed worlds away from her current reality. No longer clad in her battle-worn armor, she now wore a simple tank top and loose shorts, a stark contrast to the fierce warrior she was known to be. The room was silent except for the hum of medical equipment.

Her injured leg rested flat on the bed, while the other was pulled up to her chest. Despite the attack and injury, Satima appeared unusually serene. Shepard stood by her side, arms crossed and a playful smirk on her lips. "You're looking remarkably well for someone who just survived a close call," she remarked with a glimmer of admiration.

"I'll heal fast. It won't be long," Satima informed, her voice tinged with a hint of disappointment. She had hoped to keep her rapid regeneration a secret, but circumstances had forced her hand. The revelation now hung heavily between them, a vulnerability she hadn't wanted to expose. She resumed her gaze out the window, trying to mask the unease she felt.

Garrus stepped up, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. "You said you were attacked? That this Archer was trying to kill Shepard? How did you find him or know this was happening?" His voice was edged with a mixture of curiosity and distrust. "And why would he target you specifically? Why not take you down first if you were such a threat?"

Satima glanced his way with a slight look of fear then returned her gaze to the window. "I was walking in the plaza, when I saw him in the crowd. So, I decided to follow him up the stairs. He was aiming a rifle at you Shepard, I lunged at him.", she answered. "It was pure instinct. I didn't think. I just reacted."

Garrus listened intently, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on Satima as she fidgeted and averted her eyes from him. "We had a short fight before he jammed a blade into my leg. Then he... disappeared. I told you he can rift." Satima then stared straight at Shepard.

Satima wouldn't look directly at Garrus. He observed how her gaze flitted away every time he tried to catch her eye, her unease palpable. She fidgeted, her fingers twitching nervously, as if afraid that one direct look would reveal the lie buried in her expression and movements.

"Alright. I'll take your word for it," Shepard replied with a reassuring smile, her trust in Satima unwavering. She placed a gentle hand on Satima's shoulder, grounding her in the calm presence that Shepard always exuded. "You've always had our backs, and I believe in your instincts," she added warmly, her eyes conveying a deep sense of faith in Satima's actions and judgment.

Garrus snapped his head in her direction, but only briefly. What does Shepard see in Satima that makes her so protective? Why would Shepard stoop to blind trust?

He shifted his weight with a lone sigh, arms crossed, expression mixed with distrust and worry. Garrus would get to the bottom of it soon. He gave one final look at Satima and proceeded to leave with Shepard.

Satima sunk down on her medical bed letting out an exasperated sigh. She tried not to think too much of it but eventually, she and Garrus will come to a crossroads. The hybrid stared out the window viewing the presidium. Starting now, she has a new fear from her confrontations with Archer: Indoctrination.
...........................................
Shepard had embarked on a personal mission in the terminus systems, leaving Ashley and Garrus to co-command the Normandy in her absence. Satima's leg had healed remarkably well, her rapid regeneration allowing her to return to the ship sooner than anyone had anticipated.

The air on the Normandy was charged with anticipation and a hint of unease as they awaited updates from Shepard. Satima, moving quietly through the ship, found solace in the familiar hum of its engines and the comforting presence of her crewmates. Despite the recent tensions, she felt a renewed sense of belonging, her bond with the crew strengthening with each passing day.

She had taken to hiding in the core room, a place where she could escape the watchful eyes of those around her, and await news of the Commander's return. The quiet hum of the engine core provided a rhythmic comfort as she paced, cracked her knuckles, and sat on the floor surrounded by her new pile of data pads, small hobby inventions, and stale dextro rations.

Four days passed, each minute dragging by at a pace slower than she thought possible. Yet, in this enforced solitude, she found small comforts: the freedom to explore the ship without constant check-ins from Shepard, the fascination she discovered in the engine core, and the simple joy of feeding the fish in Shepard's cabin with Traynor.

Even Garrus allowed her to observe as he adjusted the percentages, ratios, and flow of the main gun, a gesture that made her feel like a true member of the crew. In those four days, she realized that the crew's initial wariness towards her had begun to fade, and she was starting to feel at home.

On the third day, Garrus was busy calibrating the main gun, his anticipation for Shepard's return palpable. EDI sent him a link through his visor's IR. "Here is the footage you requested from an Officer Mills," she informed.

The camera footage from the plaza three days ago, he'll send Mills a thank you later, "Appreciate it, EDI." Garrus shut off his monitor and streamlined the link to the terminal on his desk. He pressed the play panel and watched carefully the hour of the attack on Satima.

Garrus's eyes narrowed as he focused on the footage. Amidst the chaos, he could just make out Shepard's silhouette. He adjusted the zoom, honing in on a shadowy figure crouched by the balcony rail. This angle offered a crucial perspective, revealing more than he had anticipated.

Upon further image enhancement and a nearly ninety percent magnification, Garrus's suspicions were confirmed, sending a chill down his spine.

It was Satima aiming the rifle, but another figure lurked behind her, shadowy and menacing. He played the footage frame by frame, the tension mounting as he watched this figure circle her like a predator. The figure handed her the weapon, and with a stark, almost mechanical precision, she took aim. There was no hesitation, no sign of doubt, until the strangest thing occurred though. Satima stabbed herself in the leg, throwing off her aim, and missing her target completely. Him.

The figure stood over her for a few more seconds before disappearing altogether. Garrus couldn't believe his eyes. He replayed that last part and downloaded it into his visor, making headway to the core room.

Satima had just finished her last data scan on the crucible when the door burst open with a sudden force.

With a fierce shove, Garrus slammed Satima against the wall, his arm pressing hard against her throat and his gun firmly planted at her side. "You lied!" he growled, the menace clear in his voice. "Tell me the entire truth now, or I'll end you!"

Satima's instincts screamed for her to fight back, to shove Garrus into the med bay, but he demanded the truth. Answers. She had climbed so far into Shepard's trust only to risk losing it because of Garrus's paranoid conclusions.

Truth be told, it was a mixture of fact and deception.

He pushed his arm harder against her throat until she raised her hands in surrender. Garrus let off the pressure long enough for her to explain.

"Alright..." she wheezed, her voice raspy from the pressure, "It was Archer. I thought he was targeting Shepard, but he made me aim at you. He... he can control people. I had no choice. So, I hurt myself to break free, to stop the voices in my head. I'm sorry... I lied to protect everyone," her voice cracked, her face flushed with the remnants of Garrus's wrath.

He let go, releasing his grip and aiming the gun downward. Satima took gasping breaths, coughing and rubbing her sore throat. The room seemed to close in around her, but she forced herself to remain composed, glaring at Garrus with a mixture of fear and defiance.

Garrus's eyes narrowed, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Shepard is returning soon. You'd better tell her the truth before I do. Trust me, if she hears this from me first..." He let the threat hang in the air, the weight of it pressing down on Satima.

Satima shook her head, still rubbing her throat, her eyes locking onto his with a chilling intensity. "I will," she muttered, her voice edged with defiance.

Garrus lingered for a moment, his gaze unwavering, before finally turning and leaving the room. The door closed with a thud, and Satima's legs gave way as she slid down the hull wall.

Satima's mind raced, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The shock of Garrus's aggression and the threat that loomed heavy in his words left her reeling. How could he, someone she once considered an ally, turn so violently against her? The betrayal cut deep, a wound that festered with each passing second.

Her hands trembled as she clutched her throat, the physical pain a mere shadow of the emotional torment swirling within her. The realization that Garrus believed her capable of such duplicity gnawed at her soul. Had all her efforts to protect Shepard and the crew been for naught?

Tears brimmed in her eyes, but she blinked them away, refusing to let them fall. She couldn't afford to break down now, not when so much was at stake. The urge to sob overwhelmed her, yet she fought it with the last remnants of her strength.

Questions plagued her mind. How could an honorable man from her past be so cruel? What drove him to such suspicion, to the point of violence? He was supposed to be her father. If he knew the truth about her, would he have done the same thing?

Satima leaned against the hull wall, the cold metal a stark contrast to the hot tears that now spilled freely down her cheeks. She hugged her knees to her chest, grappling with the gravity of Garrus’s intent and the precariousness of her situation.

Shepard finally returned, bringing with her an air of anticipation and the latest news from the front lines. The crew gathered around, hanging onto her every word as she recounted the latest developments involving Aria, the indomitable Queen of Omega. The tales of how Cerberus had audaciously seized control of the station from her grip were met with gasps and murmurs of disbelief.

The most harrowing part of the conflict was the emergence of the reaper abominations, the adjutants. Recognizing the grave threat, Liara immediately dispatched a personal team to investigate further, concerned that Aria might lack the manpower to quell the outbreak effectively.

As Shepard finished her rounds on the Normandy, her thoughts kept drifting back to Satima. She decided to check in on her, hoping to find some clarity amidst the chaos. The ship's core room hummed softly as Shepard approached, the familiar sounds offering a momentary solace.
From the crew's accounts, it was clear that Satima was more than just compliant—she was actively contributing. She had seamlessly integrated herself into the daily operations, taking on various tasks with diligence and even tending to Shepard's beloved fish.

As the door slid open, the soft hum of the ship's core room enveloped Shepard, creating an atmosphere of quiet solace. Her eyes fell upon Satima, who had fallen into a peaceful slumber in her compartment, her arm draped over her head, and data pads scattered around her like fallen leaves.

Shepard didn't want to disturb her, but noticed one pad falling to the ground. To prevent any noise, she gently brushed Satima's arm, catching the pad just before it could hit the floor.

Satima stirred, blinking awake, and upon seeing Shepard, she shot up quickly with her hands in a defensive position, ready for a blow that never came.

Shepard's heart sank as she watched the girl's instinctive reaction. She could see the fear and pain etched in Satima's eyes, a haunting glimpse into a past that must have been filled with suffering and abuse.

"Hey, it's okay," Shepard said softly, her voice gentle and reassuring. "You're safe here. No one is going to hurt you."

Satima slowly lowered her hands, her eyes still wary.

"It's just me, Shepard," she continued, taking a cautious step closer. "You don't have to be afraid."

A flicker of trust appeared in Satima’s eyes, but the shadows of her past were not so easily dispelled. Shepard knew that earning her trust would take time and understanding, but she was determined to be there for Satima, no matter what it took.

"Oh... Shepard. I was just taking a nap.", she said nonchalantly, glancing at the mess around her. She then began to tidy up the scattered data pads, acting as if the tense moment had never occurred.

Satima's eyes darted behind Shepard, scanning the corridor for any sign of Garrus. A breath she didn't know she was holding escaped her lips when there was no one there.

"I heard you've become quite the indispensable crew member," Shepard said with a warm smile, trying to bridge the gap between them.

Satima glanced away, "Sure."

Shepard raised an eyebrow with a playful smile, "I heard you've been making quite a few friends around here."

"Friends?" Satima questioned, her voice tinged with frustration and concern. "I just picked up the slack, no thanks to you running off. I need to protect you from The Directive. Archer can show up anytime and anyplace." Her eyes bore into Shepard's, a mixture of worry and determination evident in her gaze.

Shepard's eyes narrowed, her voice a low, urgent whisper. "Did I do something to piss you off?"

Satima took two data pads in one hand, stuffing them under her arm as she prodded around for a mod chip, her movements quick and frantic. "No."

Shepard leaned in, her eyes catching the faint purple glow emanating from the chip as Satima inserted it into her custom data pad. The light flickered, casting eerie shadows on Satima's face, illuminating the strange, quickly fading bruise on her neck. Shepard's curiosity piqued, but before she could ask, Satima began to speak.

"I have to tell you something. About a few days ago, the truth.", Satima confessed, her voice trembling.

Shepard's gaze hardened as she picked up a random data pad, handing it to Satima. "The truth about what, Satima? What are you hiding?"

"I was the one on the balcony at the Citadel, aiming the rifle. Archer… he controlled me, forced me to target you." Satima's voice trembled as she shook her head in shame.

"I tried to resist. That's why I stabbed myself. I needed to stop the voices, the control from making me do something horrible." Satima stared away, afraid of what Shepard would say.

Shepard took a step back, her voice rising with urgency, "Why didn't you tell me in the first place? We could've stopped him!"

Satima glanced at her, her eyes wide with urgency. "Because it wouldn't make a difference. He can go anywhere he wants. He's just toying with us, and unless I can somehow find a rifter of my own, there's no way to predict his next move." She put the data pads on the compartment bench with a sharp thud, turning around to the commander with a determined glare.

"But Shepard... I won't let him hurt you. You're the key to defeating the Reapers. I'm not going to stand by and let anyone, not even myself, get in the way of that." Satima's eyes blazed with determination as she spoke.

Shepard's gaze sharpened, her voice edged with suspicion. "What happened there?" she demanded, pointing to the bruise on Satima's throat.

Satima rubbed her neck and smirked lightly, "Garrus found out first. He thought I was compromised, a threat. Before I knew it, he had me pinned against the wall, his weapon drawn. He was ready to do whatever it took to protect you and the crew."

Shepard's expression softened slightly, understanding the gravity of the situation. "And then what happened?"

Satima took a deep breath. "I managed to convince him I wasn't a danger, that I was trying to break free from Archer's control. Garrus listened, but it was only because he trusted you so much. He wanted to make sure you were safe, no matter the cost."

Shepard's gaze remained intense, but there was a glimmer of appreciation for Garrus's loyalty and Satima's struggle. "We need to stay vigilant. Archer's not done with us yet."

Satima nodded, determination hardening her features once more. "I won't let him get to you, Shepard."

Shepard's mind raced with conflicting emotions. Should she feel compassion for Satima or lock her away for good? If Archer had the power to compromise anyone, then no one on the Normandy was truly safe. Every person could be turned into a deadly enemy at a moment's notice.

But for Garrus to act without restraint? Shepard's mind was torn. She turned away and walked to the main battery.

He was engrossed in adjusting the hydraulic tube at the far end of the room. Shepard's footsteps echoed ominously as she approached, her anger visible. "Do they teach you to rough up girls in C-Sec?!" she demanded, her voice a razor's edge. "I'm sure she would've trusted me enough to tell me the truth!"

Garrus slammed his fusion torch on the panel, "I doubt that. She only covered her ass so she could get closer to you."

"How do you know that?", Shepard asked, upset.

Garrus sighed, his eyes darting to his toolbox. He rummaged around, pulling out a wrench with a sharp, deliberate motion. "I saw the camera footage from the plaza that day. You know me, Shepard. I always do my research," he said, his voice low and intense. "Even if she was being controlled, she made a choice. And in this war, choices have consequences."

"You sound like a hypocrite, Garrus," Shepard snapped, her voice sharp with fury. "Indoctrinated victims don't get a choice. You know that!"

Garrus's smirk faded, replaced by a deep frown. His mandibles twitched with frustration as he looked down at the wrench in his hand. "Shepard, you don't understand. She was aiming for me," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "Why don't you ask her that? I'm sure the answer won't be what you want to hear."

A silence fell in the room.

Garrus stopped working on the panel; he walked to the weapons bench and began meticulously calibrating his rifle. She could see the tension in his shoulders, the rigidness in his movements.

"Garrus," she began, her voice steady but laced with concern. "We need to talk about this."

He looked up, his mandibles flaring slightly, a sign of his unease. "Shepard, I did what I had to. Satima could've been a threat."

Shepard crossed her arms, eyes narrowing. "And what if you were wrong? What if, in your paranoia, you end up hurting someone innocent? You can’t just pin our own crew against the wall because you suspect them."

Garrus sighed, his eyes glinting with a mix of frustration and determination. "I know it's extreme, but we're at war. Every day, we face new risks. I can't afford to take chances, especially not with you. The Reapers are relentless, and so is Archer. If there's even a slight chance of a threat, I have to act."

Shepard's gaze softened, but her resolve remained firm. "I appreciate your loyalty, Garrus, more than you know. But we can't let fear dictate our actions. We need to trust each other more than ever. If we start doubting our own, we've already lost."

Garrus's shoulders slumped slightly, the weight of his actions pressing down on him. "You're right, Shepard. I just... I don't want to lose anyone else. Especially not you."

Shepard placed a reassuring hand on his arm. "We're all in this together. We fight together, we survive together. Remember that, Garrus."

........................................................................................................

Hours ticked by on the Normandy, each crew member immersed in their tasks or following orders with unwavering focus. Satima, however, found herself lost in thought, wrestling with her purpose aboard the ship. How could she truly help Shepard defeat the Reapers? The weight of the mission pressed heavily on her shoulders, making her every step feel like an arduous journey.

Even as the hustle and bustle of the ship continued around her, Satima's mind raced with possibilities and doubts. She had to find a way to contribute, to make a difference in this monumental struggle. But how?

The schematics to the crucible didn't pinpoint some secret design hidden somewhere. As far as she is concerned, that giant station is nothing but a battery. With missiles, barriers and other pieces not making full sense.

Liara convinced her it wasn't complete enough yet, to not worry about trivial things such as secret compartments or hidden generator stations. Still, Satima checked and rechecked over it.

Cortez always said that no problem was ever truly solved until the answer revealed itself. Satima couldn't help but roll her eyes at the memory. She knew better than to ask Garrus for advice; the tension between them was visible, neither of them trusted each other, and it was starting to become evident on the ship.

As she mulled over her options, the realization dawned on her: the answers she sought wouldn't come from schematics or blueprints. They would come from the people around her, each playing their part in this colossal struggle against the Reapers.

Another challenge soon emerged, one that couldn't be ignored any longer: the need to bathe.

With hours devoted to relentless fighting and intense studying, Satima found herself neglecting even the simplest of tasks. The toll of their mission was visible in every weary step, and hygiene had become an unintended casualty of their war against the Reapers.

With trepidation, she approached the women's restroom. Inside, there were three spacious shower stalls. The mere thought of disrobing in front of the human women made her heart race, and she quickly turned on her heel, deciding to find another solution.

She needed a plan. The skeleton shift would take over soon, meaning fewer eyes and more privacy. A quick whiff of herself made her grimace; waiting was no longer an option. Then, an idea sparked in her mind, almost too good to be true. Shepard's private cabin—the captain had a shower of her own.

With a renewed sense of determination, Satima now found herself standing in front of the elevator.

Satima took a deep breath as the elevator doors closed, her mind racing with anticipation. With every floor the elevator ascended, she clutched the set of clean clothes tighter, grateful to Ashley for procuring them from an empty locker. The standard Alliance military uniform felt like a lifeline, a small step towards normalcy amid the chaos.

The elevator chimed softly, signaling her arrival at the desired floor. Satima's heart pounded in her chest as she stepped out, the corridor ahead leading to Shepard's private cabin. Each step echoed her growing determination, and despite the nerves fluttering within her, she pressed on.

Finally, she reached the cabin door. With a mix of hope and hesitation, Satima reached out to the terminal nearby. "EDI... do you mind delivering a message to Shepard for me?", she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
"What would you like for me to ask, Satima?", came the smooth mechanical response.

"If I could use her shower.", she said nervously.

Within a minute, the door in front opened and Shepard stood. "Satima, come in.", she gestured the girl forward.

Satima entered the cabin, holding her bundle of clean clothes tightly to her chest. Her nerves suddenly spiked as the door slid shut behind her. Shepard turned to face her with a kind smile. "I don't mind you using my shower at all. You're not the first to ask," she chuckled. "But, can I ask why you prefer it?"

Shepard looked sincere in her question and could possibly guess why. Satima childishly brushed a stray hair behind her small ear, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... uh, don't feel confident sharing a public shower with... humans. Women, I mean. I'm not exactly normal looking," she murmured, her eyes cast downward, feeling a wave of shame wash over her as she spoke of her hybrid appearance.

Shepard patted her arm lightly, "There's nothing to feel ashamed of. It wouldn't bother my female crew at all, but if you need some privacy, I can understand. Go ahead and use it.", she smiled.

Satima felt better and ran to the shower. Shepard sniffed the air and cleared her throat batting her eyes.

The warm water cascaded down Satima's hybrid form, washing away not just the physical grime of the past days, but also soothing her frayed nerves. She closed her eyes, letting the droplets dance on her skin, and sighed in delight as the tension melted away. In that private moment, Satima felt a semblance of peace, a rare respite from the chaos that had become her life.

After ten minutes of savoring the warm, soothing water, Satima reluctantly began to dry herself off, feeling more human and less like the hybrid anomaly she often saw herself as. She carefully laid out her clothes, preparing to dress when she heard a muffled female voice through the door. It had to be Shepard's, its tone carrying the weight of authority yet laced with an unusual warmth.

As Satima finished getting dressed, she heard another voice begin talking, deeper and unmistakably male. Her heart raced, and she froze, a cold wave of dread washing over her; it was time to go.

She quickly finished and opened the door, her heart pounding as she prepared to leave hastily. Satima began walking when she suddenly collided with Garrus. He looked momentarily startled before his expression shifted to one of recognition. Shepard, watching the interaction with a keen eye, interjected, "Satima, Garrus needed to discuss something urgent with me."

The air felt charged with unspoken tension, and Satima's pulse quickened. Her mind raced, wondering what the urgent matter could be and whether it involved her. She couldn't afford to linger any longer.

"No... no problem, I was just leaving.", she ran out of the door.
What they had to discuss wasn't her concern. As long as she didn't witness anything "intimate" and Garrus didn't show aggression due to his paranoia, she was fine. Satima swiftly descended to the lower level using the elevator. The cabin door slid closed with a soft hiss, sealing her off from the charged atmosphere above.

"Your keeping bad company, Shepard." Garrus said as he leaned on the tank. The bright blue reflections danced off his armor, casting an eerie glow. His voice was low, almost a growl, filled with an undercurrent of tension.

"She just asked to shower in here. Afraid of being judged by the female crew.", Shepard answered, closing the bathroom door.

"Harsh crowd. But then, I'm not a girl.", he smirked.

"I've been hard on her since day one, but I felt she needed some guidance," Shepard declared, as she poured water into two glasses. Her eyes met Garrus's with an intensity that spoke volumes. "And you have too, haven't you?" she added, eyebrows raised knowingly.

Garrus took the glass and sipped for a moment before speaking again, "Did I mention my sister and father made it off Palaven?" He wanted to change the subject. Garrus started to feel indifferent to what he did to Satima. His father wouldn't have approved, but the tactics he's used before always worked.

Shepard nodded thoughtfully, absorbing Garrus's words. As he stepped forward to set his glass on her desk, there was a palpable tension in the air. Turning to face her, his eyes betrayed a flicker of worry. "I'm concerned about their next move. I don't have all the details, but I can't shake this feeling," he confessed, his voice tinged with unease.

Shepard gently stroked Garrus's mandible, her eyes softening as she saw the vulnerability etched in his features. "They'll be alright, Garrus. After all this is over, we'll search for them together. Your sister can even share my cabin. It'll be like an old-fashioned sleepover," she teased tenderly, trying to lighten his burden.

He chuckled, a faint smile breaking through his worry. "Yeah, I can see her loving that," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He looked down, the weight of his thoughts pulling at him. "It's just... they've always been my anchor, and now with everything going on, I can't help but fear for them."

Shepard moved closer, her hand finding his. "I understand, Garrus. But remember, you're not alone. We're in this together, and we'll face whatever comes side by side."

Her words were a balm to his troubled mind, and he leaned into her, finding solace in her presence. "You know, Shepard, in moments like these, I realize how much you mean to me. You're my home, my rock."
Shepard smiled, her heart swelling with warmth. "And you are mine, Garrus. We can conquer anything, as long as we're together."

Garrus's smile faltered, his eyes darting away. Shepard sensed the shift, her instincts sharpening. "What's wrong?", she asked, her voice steady but probing.

He glanced at her, "My father admires you but..."

"But?", she asks.

"You're not a turian," he said straightforwardly. Garrus looked down, his expression clouded with disappointment. "It's hard to explain," he continued, his voice heavy with frustration. He stepped aside, walking to her couch and sitting down, covering his head with his hands. "My father... he admires you, Shepard, but he can't get past his old prejudices. He thinks our relationship is... unorthodox. It's so backward, and it hurts to think he can't accept the most important person in my life."

Shepard sat down beside him, cupping his face tenderly as she brought his head to her shoulder. "I'm not worried about that right now," she whispered, her voice soothing. "What we have is something rare and beautiful, something no one can take away. Human and turian relationships may be new and unconventional, but those opinions don't matter to me." She paused, her eyes locking with his. "I want you, Garrus. Remember, you are my home, my anchor. And nothing will change that."

He leaned closer to her, his mandibles parting slowly as he carefully brought his lips to hers. To Shepard, this was a wondrous sensation, a connection that sent tingles from her fingertips to her toes. She could feel the warmth of his touch as he rubbed her back, gently pulling her closer into his embrace. The moment was tender and intimate, a silent promise of their unbreakable bond.

"Commander. You have a new message at your private terminal.",
Traynor's voice echoed, breaking the moment.

"Thank you, Traynor.", Shepard replied, irritated.

"Looks like duty calls.", Garrus smirked.

"Not for another thirty seconds.", Shepard pulled him on her as they leaned back together on the couch.
....................................................

Satima gazed solemnly at the memorial wall in front of deck three's elevator. Names etched in metal glistened softly under the dim light, recent ones like Mordin Solus and Thane Krios standing out starkly. Each name a haunting reminder of sacrifices made, lives given freely for a cause greater than themselves.

She pondered if her name would one day be etched among the others on that solemn wall. The thought of not making it, of becoming another memory, weighed heavily on her heart.

Garrus left Shepard to handle her messages, knowing she had an important call with Hackett about another priority mission. He took the lift down to the third deck, the soft hum of the elevator filling the silence as the doors hissed open.

As he stepped out, the form of Satima standing there surprised him. From that angle, she resembled Shepard. Her short ginger hair laid wavy on her neck. Garrus couldn't help but notice the striking resemblance—the same determined stance, the expressive eyes that seemed to hold too much experience for her age.

"If I didn't know any better," he thought to himself, "I'd think they were related." The notion lingered in his mind, a curious intersection of past and present, as he walked towards her.

Satima whirled around, her eyes wide with alarm. "I didn't know you were behind me!" she exclaimed, her breath coming in short, quick bursts.

Garrus walked up beside her, his mandibles twitching slightly, "Uniform suits you." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper, "You may have fooled the others, but not me. Watch your step on this ship."

Satima's eyes blazed with defiance as she hurriedly walked away, her footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Liara stepped out from the shadows, her eyes narrowing as she caught the tail end of the exchange. She moved gracefully, silently, until she was beside Garrus, her presence a stark contrast to the tension that now lingered in the air.

Liara's voice took on an edge as she stood beside Garrus, her eyes never leaving the memorial wall. "You know, she's only twenty. You're giving a girl, barely out of her teens, a lot of credit for having corrupt motivations," she said, her tone dripping with skepticism.

Garrus remained silent, his thoughts a tangled web of doubt and caution, while Liara's gaze bore into him. "You're being unreasonable," she challenged. "After everything Shepard has been through, don't you trust her?"

He snapped to her direction, his voice tinged with frustration, "Of course I do! It's just…"

Liara waited impatiently for an answer. "Just?'

He averted his gaze from the wall, rubbing his sore eyes. "Maybe I'm being paranoid. Cerberus and their sleeper agents, the reapers’ indoctrination, and now, this… this kid who can match me in combat if she tried. All the unknowns, Liara."

Garrus's voice trembled slightly, betraying the exhaustion he felt. "I'm tired, Liara. Ever since the Reapers attacked, it's been one crisis after another. I barely have time to catch my breath before the next disaster hits us. And now, with Satima... I don't know what to think anymore."
He clenched his fists, his mandibles twitching in frustration. "I can't lose Shepard again. Not to the Reapers, and not to a child."

He turned sharply and walked away, leaving Liara to stare after him, her eyes narrowing with concern. The weight of uncertainty hung in the air, pressing down on her chest as she returned her focus to the names on the monument wall. There, amidst the sea of engraved memories, she found Kaiden's name, the letters a stark reminder of the countless sacrifices made.

An eerie chill crept up her spine, and with a sense of foreboding, she hurriedly made her way back to her quarters, her thoughts a whirlwind of doubt and determination.

Back on the CIC deck, Shepard sprinted towards the galaxy map, her heart pounding with urgency. She tapped the panel, setting their course for the enigmatic Perseus Veil. Every fiber of her being hoped Tali was out there, waiting.

The urgency gnawed at her, a relentless fire propelling her forward. She couldn't afford to lose another friend, not now. The Normandy sliced through the relay, pushing its engines to their limits as it raced toward the nebula.

Shepard's mind raced as she paced along the CIC deck, the hum of the Normandy's engines a constant reminder of the urgency of their mission. Her eyes darted to the navigation screens, ensuring that every detail was in order, while Joker expertly maneuvered the warship through the starlit void.

Each step echoed her determination, the weight of their journey pressing heavily on her shoulders. The galaxy seemed vast, yet the destination loomed ever closer, a beacon of hope and peril intertwined. The crew's silent anticipation filled the air, their collective breath held in the balance of what lay ahead.

The Normandy surged forward, its thrusters leaving a streak of light in the dark expanse, as if carving a path through the very fabric of space. Shepard's gaze remained fixed on the starboard window, her thoughts a whirlwind of strategy and concern.

Suddenly, Joker's voice cut through the tension, pulling Shepard back to the present.

"Commander, we're here.", Joker alerted.

She viewed out the starboard window a large quarian vessel. "That must be the envoy ship for the admirals.", she stated.

"Wonder what fresh hell the quarians have wrapped themselves up in?", Joker questioned.

Shepard shook her head with an irritated sigh, her eyes narrowing as she scrutinized the ship's hull. "The same hell we've all been fighting," she muttered, her voice laced with tension. She turned towards Joker, her expression somber and resolute. "The Reapers."

..............................................
Dholen-Far Rim
Quarian Envoy Ship

Shepard waited in the war room for the Admirals to arrive. Leaning over the catalyst interface, the door opened with them finally entering. The interface became distorted with her movement.

"Commander Shepard. A pleasure to see you again, though I wish it were under better circumstances.", Admiral Rhann approached.

"I'd hoped for your support in the fight against the reapers. What's going on?", Shepard asked.

The quarian leaders began standing around the interface of the dimmed war room. Admiral Gerrel stepped forward, "Seventeen days ago, with precision strikes on four geth systems, the quarians initiated the war to retake our homeworld."

Shepard's pulse raced. "Dammit!", she thought.

Koris spoke loudly to object to the initial attack, "Which was a clear violation of our agreement with the Council to avoid provoking the geth!"
Shepard watched as the Admirals began to pace around each other, arguing their reasons behind it or against it.

Xen started to pace the war room, using her suited hands to gesture her displeasure with Korris's statement. "A treaty violation is nothing compared to recovering our homeworld and advanced AI technology."
Shepard inquired more about their homeworld. Asking about Rannoch. Rhann happily replied with a brief history lesson about the war with the geth three hundred years ago, and how they lost their homeworld to the AI creations.

"After we attempted to kill them.", Korris blurted out.

"We didn't try to kill them, Koris. We tried to deactivate them. It wasn't murder.", Xen leaned over the interface between them.

Shepard faced Xen with her own conclusions, "No, it was murder."

"Commander, the quarians never intended to create a true AI. It was an accident.", Rhann tried to calm the air with a reasonable explanation.

Shepard covered her forehead in frustration. She paced around, then approached the interface pointing her slender fingers at them. "Which you chose to correct by trying to kill them."

The Admirals glanced at each other in silence. Koris crossed his arms, "Don't bother. Admitting we were wrong would undercut the justification for this suicidal invasion plan."

"You're throwing yourselves at the geth? Again?", Shepard asked stunned.

"And this time, we may have destroyed our people for good.", Koris chimed in.

Gerrel used the interface for his omni-tool to transfer a schematic for them all to see. "We'd driven the geth back to the home system when this signal began broadcasting to all geth ships."

The planet Rannoch showed as a holographic orb. A single pinpoint of the signal pinging off-world. Several geth ships orbited.

"The Reapers.", Shepard looked irritated.

"Under reaper control, the geth are significantly more effective. Our fleet is pinned in the home system. If we're going to win-", Gerrel was interrupted.

"Win? You insisted on involving the civilian ships, Admiral Gerrel! We need to retreat or we'll lose the liveships!", Koris shouted his words.

Shepard gestured to the planet, "Where's the signal coming from?"

"A geth dreadnought. It can outgun anything we've got and it's heavily defended.", Gerrel spoke.

The dreadnought came into view, a schematic of a massive geth ship. Shepard became intrigued. "The Normandy's stealth drive can get us in undetected. I could board, then disable the Reaper command signal.", Shepard offered.

Xen put a hand to her suited-chin thinking loudly, "Yes, cutting off the signal should throw the geth into complete disarray."

"And while they're confused, you get to a mass relay and retreat.", Shepard finished.

Koris nodded in approval of this idea, "Good. Our civilian ships have seen too much fighting already. Are you certain you can disable the signal?"

"We'll get you out of there safely, Admiral.", Shepard reassured.

Rhann realized the last Admiral was late getting in to the information. She turned to the door sliding open behind her, "Our newest admiral has also volunteered to offer technical expertise..."

Tali stepped through the doorway, descending the stairwell." Tali'Zorah vas Normandy, reporting for duty."

Shepard let out a wide smile, "Glad you could make it, Tali." Her mind giving thanks her friend is safe. "Admirals, I'll ready a team to hit that dreadnought."

"Thank you, Commander.", Rhann nodded.

With a heavy heart, Shepard and Tali walked side by side towards the conference room, the echoes of their footsteps a stark reminder of the battles that had taken their toll. Once inside, they stood in a profound silence, the weight of the Reaper war pressing heavily upon their shoulders.

Shepard leaned against the glass wall, her eyes reflecting both the vastness of space and the depth of her thoughts. She turned to Tali, seeing the weariness in her friend's eyes, a mirror of her own.
"Admiral?", she teasingly asked.

"It's mostly a formality. I'm an expert on the geth.", her blushed cheeks hidden behind the mask.

"That you are.", Shepard agreed.

"Heh. I'm glad you're here.", Tali looked out the porthole into space.

Shepard crossed her arms. "If I'd known it was this bad, I would have come sooner.", she looked towards Tali apologetically.

Tali turned her head slightly to see Shepard from the corner of her eye. "You've had your own troubles. I'm sorry about Earth. We've got the largest fleet in the galaxy. If you can help us, we'll hit the Reapers with everything we've got." Tali paced in a tight circle, returning to gaze out into space. "Or however much is left from this stupid war."

Shepard uncrossed her arms walking to Tali, "I thought you supported this invasion?"

Tali shook her head, "No. After talking to Legion, I thought maybe there was a chance for peace."

"So why help them?", Shepard asked curious.

Tali turned to face her, "I'm an admiral. People look to me for guidance. Public disagreement would divide the fleet."

"I'll get your people out of there safely, Tali.", Shepard assured her.

"Thanks, Shepard. And just so you know, I need to keep things strictly business in front of the admirals. If you'd like to catch up, let's talk somewhere private.", Tali blinked her bright silver eyes.

"Sure thing.", Shepard smiled.

"I'm ready to hit the dreadnought whenever you are.", Tali turned back around.

Shepard left Tali to her privacy, her thoughts still clouded with concern, as she made her way back to the CIC. Just as she reached the command center, Satima burst out of the elevator, her face alight with excitement. "Shepard!" she exclaimed, her voice brimming with urgency and curiosity. Traynor's attention was immediately drawn to the scene, her interest piqued.

Satima rushed over to Shepard, her words tumbling out in a flurry of breathless questions. "I heard there are quarians aboard? Do they have a safe place to stay? Are their suits in need of repairs?"

With a light chuckle and a curious gaze, Shepard raised her hand to the hybrid. "Whoa, Satima, take a breath. They have their envoy ship to stay on. But why are you so worried about them?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine curiosity.

Satima hesitated, her eyes darting away as she struggled to suppress the emotions bubbling beneath the surface. "Oh... uh, no... nothing," she stammered, clearly flustered. She took a step back, ready to retreat to the elevator.

Shepard arched an eyebrow, sensing there was more to Satima's concern than she was letting on. She shared a knowing look with Traynor, both intrigued and puzzled.

An hour of intense preparations and anxious space flight passed, when Shepard invited Tali to her cabin for a much-needed private talk. The rumor of Satima's outburst hung in the air, but Shepard chose to tread carefully around it.

She envisioned Satima contributing from the core room, assisting with ship operations rather than joining the mission. Especially after that awkward and concerning conversation. Once again, Shepard found herself underestimating the hybrid's determination and emotions. A lesson she was learning all too often in these turbulent times.

The elevator doors parted with a soft hiss, revealing the bustling shuttle bay and cargo area on level five. Satima, with urgency etched on her face, stepped out briskly. Shepard and Garrus were absorbed in readying their gear, barely noticing her approach.

"Shep-Commander, I need to speak with you," Satima's voice rang out, cutting through the ambient noise. Her gaze was fixed intently on Shepard, deliberately ignoring Garrus.

Shepard was taken aback by the formality in Satima's tone. "Alright," she said, following Satima behind the armor kiosk grid. The young woman fidgeted nervously, wringing her hands. "I heard about your current mission," she began, her voice laced with both urgency and hesitation.
Shepard glared, "Satima..."

"No, you don't understand, Shepard," Satima implored, her voice trembling with urgency. "I need to go with you. Archer is out there, and I have to protect you from him." She placed her hands on her hips, determination etched on her face.

"So can Garrus and Tali, who by the way are coming. I already have a team picked, Satima. Tali is coming regardless; this is her mission too," Shepard said, trying to inject some sympathy into her voice.
"Shepard, please. I can help you," Satima's voice was tight with desperation, her brow furrowed in fierce defiance.

"You did well on the Citadel and Messana, but your constant defiance of orders is unacceptable," Shepard's voice was a low, controlled growl. "And that little incident between you and Garrus on the Citadel has left me no choice but to suspend you from this mission."

"What? I was being controlled! Shepard, I would never hurt him or you, or anyone on the Normandy." Satima's eyes were wide with desperation, her voice rising. "Not like he did me. Or is that excused because you're sleeping with him?"

Shepard's glare hardened, taking a step forward as Satima instinctively backed up, her defiance mingling with fear.

"Your behavior is exactly why you're staying behind. I can't trust you, Satima. You are compromised." Shepard's voice cut like a blade, each word laced with a mix of frustration and resolve. The accusation hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Satima's face twisted in a mix of anger and hurt, her fists clenching at her sides.

"Compromised? You think I'm compromised?" Her voice was a raw whisper, barely containing the storm brewing within.

Shepard stepped closer, her eyes steely and unyielding. "Yes, and in this war, trust is everything. Every single decision could mean life or death for all of us. I need people I can rely on, people who won't falter."

The words stung, but there was no room for argument. Satima's breath hitched, her chest heaving with the effort to contain her emotions. She knew Shepard was right, but the truth was a bitter pill to swallow. The tension between them crackled like electricity, an unspoken challenge lingering in the air.

Tali walked in, meeting up with Garrus as the tension in the room became palpable. Satima's voice rang out, filled with anger and vehemence at Shepard's command.

"But, I'm a part of your crew now! Aren't I? You need my help, you need what I know about the damn reapers, the Directive and what you will no doubt repeat!" Satima's voice quivered with a mix of anger and desperation. Her eyes blazed with fury and betrayal as she glanced away, clenching her fists tightly, trying to hold back the burning tears. Her body shook, every inch of her brimming with pent-up frustration and disbelief at Shepard's harsh words.

Tali stared at them both in a bit of personal shock. The commander became more vexed at the girl's resistance.

Shepard's eyes blazed with fury, and her voice was a sharp, commanding bark. "Satima, I gave you an order! Now, follow it without question!"

Defeated, Satima's eyes darted around the room before locking onto Garrus, who observed with an unreadable expression. With a final, lingering glance at Shepard, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the bay, her footsteps echoing like a drumbeat of tension.

Shepard leaned on the panel, disrupting the holo-grid, her grip on the soldering gun tight enough to snap it. The tension in her eyes mirrored the electric crackle of the broken tool.

Garrus stepped beside Shepard, watching her reaction. "Repeat?", he thought, "Repeat what?"

Shepard pushed past him, anger still welling inside her. Tali wandered over to a confused Garrus. "Definitely good to be back.", she quipped.

The argument between Shepard and Satima replayed in Garrus's mind like a haunting echo. Satima knew something critical, something that could tip the scales in their favor, but his own tactics had driven her to silence.
"Repeat?" Garrus thought, the weight of his actions settling heavily in his chest. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut—he had pushed Shepard to prioritize a relationship over a strategic advantage, and now they might all pay the price.

Garrus's eyes followed Shepard as she geared up, her movements sharp and deliberate. There was no room for remorse or hesitation. The mission demanded their full focus, but the tension between them was a live wire, ready to snap at any moment.

"Liara is right," he muttered under his breath, clenching his fists in frustration. "As usual. I've become paranoid."

Garrus's heart pounded as the weight of his actions settled heavily in his chest. He had been ruthless, but was it worth pushing Satima to the edge? This was war, and war demanded sacrifices, but now he couldn't shake the gnawing guilt that clawed at him. Every glance in the mirror reflected a visage hardened by conflict yet plagued by doubt.

His mind raced with questions, the silence around him amplifying the turmoil within. He had to find a way to mend the rift he had created or risk everything they held dear unraveling before their eyes.

With the captain fully armored, they waited with Joker at the command panel back at the helm. Holo displays of the ships diagnostics as well as the dreadnoughts ahead flashed around, hovering over the metal board.
"We're approaching the Quarian home system. ETA to Rannoch: Five minutes.", Joker turned himself to see Shepard.

She stood behind him, arms crossed, still as stone.
"You ok boss?", he asked.

Shepard shrugged, "What've you got from the comm buoys?"

Joker whisked holo panels, then rested his fist under his chin, "Pretty much a big ol'shitstorm, Commander."

Without touching a single panel, EDI used her own AI sensors to move the information gathered in front of her," I have detected several hundred unique ship signatures engaged in active combat.", she glanced to Shepard.

Joker rubbed his temple, "Yeah, like I said."

"Take us in, Joker.", Shepard confidently ordered.

Joker stretched his hands, popping his knuckles. He began to quickly punch the orders, "Stealth drive engaged. Only way they'll detect us is if you all start singing the Russian national anthem." Joker smirked as Shepard hovered and paced behind him. She left immediately after.

"Annd, didn't even get the joke.", Joker muttered to himself in disappointment.

The Normandy emerged out of hyper drive into a brutal scene of star ship battle. Laser light shows pinged, bounced and burned off through metal and space. The geth were winning.

"My cyberwarfare suite has accessed their docking protocols.", EDI's voice echoed in comms.

Carefully, Joker navigated the Normandy through the fray, even as a Quarian ship exploded in fiery heat next to them.

Closer to the dreadnought they had to get, before the fight was drawn to them. As the Normandy swerved left, banking to miss a Quarian ship, a geth starship closed in, effectively destroying it. Finally, they dock alongside the dreadnought, aligning with the docking tube. The tension lingered, every breath a reminder of the stakes at hand. The team steeled themselves for the imminent confrontation, their resolve unwavering despite the looming danger that surrounded them.

Shepard was prepared for this. It's just a walk… in space, through a tube that connects to another ship. No issue. She hoped.

Garrus and Tali met up with her on the command deck. Fully geared and ready to go. They followed her to the Normandy's airlock.

"All right, once we're aboard, we find whatever's broadcasting the reaper signal and shut it down.", Shepard opened the airlock."Tali's our expert on geth software. She'll be handling hacking and security."

"Good to have you back, Tali. Maybe with another dextro onboard, they'll get better turian food.", Garrus chuckled.

"As long as it's sterilized.", she replied. Tali glanced between her friends, a question burning in her mind, "So... who was the new guest earlier?", she asked curiously.

Suddenly, Satima walked in, fully geared. Her black armor fitted tightly to her lithe frame.

She looked at Tali, "It's a pleasure to meet you. Though I wasn't allowed to go far from my room, I did manage to hear of Quarians boarding the Normandy. I'm Satima."

Shepard stood still, her rage like a tempest barely contained. Garrus, feeling the intensity, started to talk aimlessly about food, desperately trying to diffuse the volatile atmosphere. He knew he might have to intervene between two highly skilled and dangerous women.

The current mission carries heavy importance, too important to start an argument, again. He resumed the food conversation. "Hey Tali, Dr. Michel did get me some dextro-amino chocolate. You're welcome to it, once we're back."

"She got you turian chocolate?", Tali asked, sidetracked from the mysterious intrusion.

"She said she saw it and thought of me. Why?", Garrus shrugged.
Shepard looked at him, her previous attention on Satima forgotten for a moment.

Tali laughed, "Watch yourself, Shepard."

Shepard shook her head at Tali then turned to Garrus. "You will be giving that chocolate to Tali as a "welcome back aboard" gift, right?"

"What? There's no such thing as a...", Garrus spotted Tali, shaking her helmeted head no.

"Of course, Shepard. Besides, chocolate has always been overrated," Garrus said with a playful smirk, attempting to lighten the mood.

Shepard's lips twitched into a brief, reluctant smile at Garrus's attempt to lighten the mood. She then remembered Satima, a pang of concern flashing across her face, but her thoughts were interrupted by EDI's calm, calculated voice crackling over the comms.

"Shepard, there is a problem. All tubes except one are physically secured.", EDI announces.

"I see the free one. Pretty torn up, though.", Joker interrupted.

Shepard realized what they were saying the second EDI explained it. Facing the reality of having to traverse outside the Normandy, her heart began to race. The mere thought of being exposed to the void of space sent waves of anxiety crashing over her. She fought to maintain her composure in front of Satima, not wanting to show any sign of weakness.

Now that Satima has inserted herself into the mission, Shepard had to be vigilant. The last thing they needed was a misstep that would lead to disaster. She couldn't afford to let fear take hold, not now.

Shepard's pulse quickened as she steeled herself for the challenge. Every step towards the docking tube felt like a march into the unknown, the vast emptiness of space a constant reminder of the peril that awaited. She took a deep breath, the cold bite of anxiety gnawing at her resolve.

"It's time," Shepard thought, casting a final glance at her team before taking the first step into the abyss.

"Too risky for the whole team.", she swallowed with a dry mouth, "I'll secure the docking area. Everyone else can follow me over."

"Roger that, Commander. We'll just stay here-you know- quietly.", Joker spoke.

"Hang tight. I'll just be a minute.", Shepard said.

The docking tube had large bits of debris floating around. Chunks of missing tube gave her a nice view into space. Each step reverberated with the memory of her past death; she had been spaced before, and the unnerving sensation of vacuum engulfing her body haunted her relentlessly.

At least she kept telling herself that. A nice view. The first thing she must overcome is the disorientation. But deep inside, a primal fear gripped her heart, the fear of once again succumbing to the void. The cold, unfeeling darkness that had claimed her life before now seemed to whisper sinister promises, threatening to pull her back into its silent embrace. Her breaths grew shallow as she fought to distinguish reality from the echo of past terror, her mind waging war against the betrayal of her own memories.

Shepard knew that the gaps exposing the tube to the void would require her to navigate with precision and caution. She began to walk in a circular motion around the tube's interior, each step a delicate dance with the cosmos. She paused, her breath catching as she prepared to cross an undamaged section, the weight of the mission pressing heavily on her shoulders.

Her eyes were drawn to a larger opening, revealing the vast expanse of space and the hulking silhouette of the enemy dreadnought. It loomed ominously, a silent sentinel of destruction.

"No wonder the quarians were having trouble," Shepard muttered to herself, the enormity of the ship sinking in as she continued her cautious advance. "That ship is enormous."

"It is 30% larger than an Alliance dreadnought.", EDI commented.
The loud thumps of Shepard's mag boots echoed around her. The sound of laser fire filtered her comms.

Another viewpoint into space showed a planet: Rannoch. "Tali, you're going to like the view.", Shepard informed.

"Better than a vid?", Tali asked.

"Much.", Shepard replied.

A sudden boom echoed behind her, snapping her out of her trance. It must have been a direct hit somewhere on the hull. Shepard steadied herself and pressed on, each step feeling like a countdown.

Minutes felt like eternity in the silence of space. Her heart pounded louder with each passing second.

"How are you holding up, Shepard?" Tali's concerned voice crackled through the comms, breaking the tension.

"The lack of gravity is a little disorienting.", Shepard replied with a hard swallow. Her insides were starting to feel queasy. Shepard took a deep breath. "I'm ok.", she told herself.

"The dreadnought has artificial gravity. You should be okay once you're on board.", Tali informed.

"Until then, I'll make do with mag-boots.", Shepard replied. Wonderful mag-boots. No floating away helplessly in space, mag-boots.

"Hey, take your time, Commander. We're fine until they, you know, look out a window.", Joker commented sarcastically.

Shepard laughed to herself. "Geth don't use windows, remember? Structural weakness."

"Like the geth are just sitting there saying, "Those organics would never try the no-windows thing twice!", Joker smirked.

"What the hell is a geth?", Satima asked.

"Flashlight head robots that don't like anything that's flesh and blood.", Joker replied, chuckling.

"Oh.", Satima spoke.

Finally, towards the end of the tube, it broke away. Shepard barely made it over in time before it floated off into space.

"Shit!", she thought, her heart rate spiking as adrenaline flooded her veins.

Back in the air-lock, Satima noticed Garrus keeping a vigilant eye on Shepard's vitals. Tali too, was anxiously monitoring the situation.
"What's going on?", the hybrid asked, tension lacing her voice.

Tali turned to her, "Shepard has a bad history of open space."

Satima raised her brow but she nodded, her eyes fixed on the monitors. Garrus, his mandibles tightening, replied with a grave tone, "She was spaced over two years ago when the collectors destroyed the old Normandy."

A sudden jolt shook the air-lock, lights flickering ominously. Satima’s heart raced as she saw Shepard’s vitals spike on the screen. "Stay focused, Shepard," she whispered under her breath, her eyes never leaving the screen.

Moments passed when Satima began to question the story. "She died in space?" Her voice trembled slightly as she processed the revelation.
Both Tali and Garrus nodded grimly. "Yes, it was during a mission two years ago. The Collectors attacked and destroyed the old Normandy. Shepard was spaced," Garrus explained, his voice heavy with the weight of the memory.

Satima's eyes widened in shock. "How did she come back then?"

"The Lazarus Project," Tali interjected, her tone filled with a mix of awe and resentment. "Cerberus, a covert organization with dubious intentions, took on the monumental task of bringing Shepard back to life. They spent billions of credits and two years reconstructing her body and mind."

Satima's breath hitched as she listened. "And it worked?" The disbelief in her voice was palpable.

Garrus nodded. "It did. They succeeded in bringing her back, stronger and more determined than ever. But the cost... the ethical boundaries that were crossed... it’s something we all struggle to understand and accept."

A sudden, soft beeping interrupted their conversation as the monitors displayed a steadying of Shepard’s vitals. Satima exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. "Shepard truly is a remarkable leader," she whispered, her admiration growing.

Tali offered a small, resolute smile. "She is. And together, we'll make sure she gets through this, no matter the odds."

Satima noted this information, when Shepard came back on comms.
"Looks like the rest of the team isn't using the docking tube.", she alerted.

"So, I'm guessing you'd rather not solo the dreadnought.", Joker said with that familiar hint of sarcasm.

"Not if I can help it.", Shepard replied.

"It's not like she couldn't do it anyways.", Satima said out loud.

"Ask Tali to get on the dreadnought schematics.", Shepard said ignoring Satima. "If she can point me at another docking tube, I'll override the controls and let the boarding party on."

Shepard walked through the airlock. She unholstered her rifle, pointing down the dark corridor, passing by two locked doors and an area on repair shutdown. The geth are getting better and faster no thanks to the reapers.

"I'm inside. I've got gravity again.", she informed.

"Great. I'm looking for...Got it. There should be a hull breach not far from your position.", Tali overlooked the dreadnought schematics on her omni-tool. Everyone waited anxiously to get on board with Shepard. "The nearest undamaged docking tube is on the other side.", she finished.

Overhead, Shepard spotted a small hole into space. Possibly the size of a sky car. "Think I found that hull breach you mentioned."

"Admiral Gerrel tried a frontal assault. We lost six frigates. That tiny hole was the only damage we did.", Tali's voice sounded more than pissed about it.

Shepard climbed over a metal covering. "I wouldn't call it tiny.", as she hopped down onto the metal grated floor. "Not the way you'd have done it?", she asked curious.

"No, he was too aggressive. I argued, but as admiral of the Heavy Fleet, it was ultimately his decision.", Tali replied.

Shepard climbed around girders. "What about the other admirals?" She rounded the corner to an opening.

"Xen backed the invasion, largely to test her new weapons. Raan gave her provisional support," Tali continued, shifting her stance impatiently as she awaited Shepard's response. Her fingers tapped rhythmically against her thigh, a telltale sign of her anxiety. "Only Koris stood against the war alongside me. And he was right. We could lose the entire fleet, Shepard."

Shepard walked on top of a girder passing by a holo grid station. Up ahead was a ladder to the top floor. "We'll get your people out of here safely.", she said.

Shepard climbed the ladder with urgency, her heart pounding in her chest. She reached the walkway leading to an unlocked door. Just then, a violent jolt nearly sent her tumbling.

A section of the walkway collapsed right in front of the door. With no time to hesitate, Shepard sprinted and leaped across the gaping hole, landing gracefully on the other side. She pushed through the door with determination.

Inside, the room was large and dimly lit, shadows playing tricks on her eyes. But there, in the distance, she spotted her objective. "I've found another airlock. We're good to go," she announced, her voice filled with resolve.

"Great. If you override the controls, we'll be right there.", Tali said.

Shepard's eyes darted around as she ascended another ladder, each rung echoing with the urgency of her mission. Reaching the top floor, she swiftly approached the holo grid station for the airlock controls, her fingers dancing over the panels with precision and purpose. A few key presses and codes later, the docking tube unlocked with a satisfying click.

"Got it. You're clear to board," she announced over the comms, her voice firm and determined.

The airlock hissed open, revealing Garrus, Tali, and Satima as they cautiously stepped through. Tali paused, her eyes scanning the dimly lit surroundings, the faint, eerie sounds of geth language echoing around them. Shadows danced along the walls, creating an unsettling atmosphere that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

The eerie silence of the robotically run military ship sent a chill down Satima's spine. She couldn't shake the feeling of unease as she compared it to the ominous corridors of the Directive's hive. The faint lights barely pierced the darkness, casting menacing shadows in the alcoves. Every step they took seemed to echo with an unsettling resonance, amplifying their anxiety and the anticipation of what lay ahead.

Garrus sauntered up to where Shepard stood, a playful glint in his eye. "See any action yet?" he asked, his voice tinged with a teasing drawl.

"Not yet. But with you by my side, I bet we'll find plenty of action soon," she teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Garrus chuckled as Satima made a gagging sound. "Ugh, seriously? Can you two not do this right now?" Satima groaned, rolling her eyes dramatically. She visibly shuddered, her face contorting in mock disgust as she exaggeratedly wiped her hands on her armor suite, as if trying to rid herself of their flirtatious banter.

Tali climbed the ladder to Shepard, whispering “Khelah” to herself. "Here, let me see if I can get this open." Shepard followed Tali with Garrus and Satima following up the ladder also. Tali gestured to a weapon, "In the meantime, take a look at this."

Shepard glanced at it. It seemed to be a pistol of some type.

"There, it's open. We're clear to go.", Tali said.

Shepard picked up the pistol, "Looks impressive."

Shepard took point, leading them through the corridor.

"It's Admiral Xen's design. It transmits an energy pulse on contact that disrupts shields and synthetics.", Tali followed behind Shepard.

She took off ahead to unlock the next door at another grid station.
"So, we're we headed?", Shepard asked.

"We're looking for an operations center. I can disable the Reaper command signal from there.", Tali replied.

Garrus stood next to her, his rifle aimed and ready, eyes scanning the dimly lit corridor for any signs of movement. Satima stayed back, taking in the ominous layout of the dreadnought.

Her gaze snapped to Tali at the mention of the “Reaper signal.” The hybrid’s heart pounded as she grappled with the terrifying possibility that this signal could trigger something catastrophic within her armor.

But how? Didn’t Akasia disarm it? She swallowed hard, deciding to keep this fear to herself, not wanting to alarm the team. After all, the last thing they needed was Garrus lashing out at her again.

The claustrophobic atmosphere made her feel as if an ambush was imminent. She couldn't shake the creeping dread that something was about to go terribly wrong. But Shepard insisted that the Reaper signal must be deactivated, or the quarians' fate would be sealed.

That meant Jormun's existence hung in the balance. Satima had to ensure they all survived, no matter the cost.

"Satima, hustle!" Shepard's voice rang out with a commanding edge. "We can't afford to fall behind now."

With determination etched on her face, Shepard kept her eyes on Tali. "Where's the nearest operations center?" she pressed, urgency laced in her tone.

"Past their defense network and through a sensor cluster.", Tali walked ahead to peak around the huge reactor room.

"Oh sure, just a simple walk in the park.", Satima muttered sarcastically.

In front of them loomed a colossal machine, exuding thick clouds of steam. Beneath its metallic shell, an incandescent coil pulsated with energy. Ahead, a sensor station flickered with vital information, casting an eerie glow in the dimly lit corridor.

Garrus's mandibles flared with curiosity as he studied the colossal machine before them. "GARDIAN antifighter lasers," he murmured, his voice tinged with admiration. "Looks like they're using ultraviolet frequencies... similar to the salarians' tech. The precision on these is incredible."

He ran a hand over the sleek metal surface, feeling the faint hum of energy beneath his fingers. "This level of engineering is remarkable," he continued, his tone almost reverent. "They've really outdone themselves. These lasers must give them a significant edge."

Shepard couldn't help but feel a twinge of awkwardness as Garrus gently caressed the metal surface, his admiration for the technology evident. "Expensive," she remarked, unable to mask a slight smirk. "Bet it gives them an edge in close combat, though."

"When the fleet rushed the dreadnought, those lasers carved right through our ships.", Tali said pointing at them.

Tali couldn't help but notice Garrus's cringe at admiring the laser cannon surface a bit too much. She stifled a laugh, biting her lip to keep from embarrassing her dear friend. But beneath her composed exterior, her shoulders shook slightly as she tried to contain her amusement. "Keelah," she thought to herself, "this looks so weird."

Shepard jogged around the machine, slapping Garrus’s arm to get his attention. "Come on. Let's get to the op center before they lose more."

They pressed forward through the dimly lit corridor, the shadows dancing ominously on the deep violet walls. The only light came from the holo grids and panel stations lining their path, casting an eerie orange glow that reflected off the heated coils. Each step echoed with a sense of urgency, their breaths shallow and focused.

The metal covering lifted with a hiss, like the exoskeleton of some colossal creature revealing its vibrant, intricate innards. The heavy panel settled with a resonant thud, as a fine mist of steam coolant gel sprayed out, soothing the searing coils and dissipating the intense heat.

Shepard halted in front of the bridge controls, her fingers dancing over the panel to extend the bridge. As the metallic walkway creaked into place, Tali's sharp gaze scanned their surroundings. Suddenly, without warning, a pack of geth emerged from the shadows on the other side.
"Watch out! Geth incoming!", Tali yelled.

One of them launched a rocket, its fiery trail illuminating the corridor with an eerie glow. "Shit!" Satima screamed, her voice echoing through the metal walls as they all scrambled for cover, the impending explosion casting a shadow of dread over their every move.

Shepard took cover at the controls, her heart pounding as the geth's relentless assault echoed around them. Garrus leaned around from the coil, his sharp eyes narrowing as he picked off targets with precise shots from his rifle. Amid the chaos, Tali fired her shotgun, the explosion of each round reverberating through the corridor.

Shepard's grip tightened on her arc pistol, the weapon's hum a stark contrast to the deafening barrage of geth fire. She took a deep breath, her mind racing. One wrong move could spell disaster. With a swift and calculated motion, she emerged from cover, her pistol unleashing a potent burst of energy that sent a geth trooper crashing to the ground, sparks flying from its damaged circuitry.

"Nice gun, Tali.", she shouted happily.

"Uh... I'll give my regards to Xen for you.", Tali said while taking cover from another angle.

"Can I borrow it?", Garrus shouted over the chaos, dodging a barrage of gunfire with agile precision.

"Only if I drop it," Shepard quipped with a smirk. She deftly took out the geth aiming for Garrus, then vaulted over her cover to close the distance.

Garrus followed, "Damn, why do you always get the cool toys?" he replied, dodging yet another bullet with the nonchalance of someone avoiding a puddle.

"Oh sure, let's just focus on the 'flashlight robots' while the entire corridor tries to blast us into oblivion," Satima chimed in, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Shepard's witty demeanor faltered momentarily as Satima spoke, her annoyance bubbling to the surface. The commander was still fuming from their earlier clash and was even more incensed now that Satima had forcefully joined the fray.

"They're not robots. They are intelligent machines.", Tali commented, using her shotgun to hit a geth at the forward ladder.

"In other words, A.I.", Garrus informed.

Satima's eyes narrowed as she spotted a gap in the geth formation. With a swift and lethal grace, she slipped out from behind the partition, her pistol blazing as she took down two geth with perfect precision. "Got you!", she exulted, a fierce grin spreading across her face.

Shepard dispatched the last two troopers with a swift, lethal efficiency. "Alright, enough with the chatter," she commanded, her voice cutting through the chaos. She led the team forward with steely determination, every muscle in her body coiled and ready for the next assault.

As they pressed on, another wave of geth appeared, their weapons blazing. The air crackled with energy, and the intensity of the battle surged once more.

“Keep your eyes open! More are coming!” Garrus shouted, securing a vantage point to take down more targets with precision.

Shepard fired alongside Tali. "I don't hear an alarm!", she said aloud.

"They're geth! They sent alerts to every unit on this ship!" Tali shouted, her voice barely cutting through the chaos. She fired a trooper down with unwavering precision, her movements a blur of lethal efficiency. Satima, wielding her pistol with the same deadly grace, mirrored Shepard’s unflinching resolve as she dispatched another geth with pinpoint accuracy.

Tali glanced back to Shepard who dodged laser fire. She whipped around the corner, grabbing a geth from behind, stabbing it dead with her omni-blade. Garrus head shot a trooper in the distance.

Tali shook her inner thoughts aside. "Shepard, we need to get to the operation center before they box us in!" She fired another round of her shotgun.

"Enough of this!" Satima yelled, her frustration evident in every word. She grabbed a nearby geth's rifle with an angry determination. Charging out in front of the fray, she began firing with reckless abandon. Satima discarded the rifle, its thermal clips spent, her face alight with a fierce grin of satisfaction.

"Satima!", Shepard roared, emerging from cover with fury blazing in her eyes. She marched up to Satima, her voice cutting through the chaos.
"Act like a reckless mercenary again, and I swear I'll throw your sorry ass off my ship myself! You either follow orders or get the hell out of my crew!"

"But I’m not part of your crew, remember?" Satima spat, her eyes blazing with defiance. "I’ll do what I have to in order to help you stop the Reapers. Consequences be damned, Shepard."

She moved forward with a resolute stride, leaving a shocked and severely vexed Shepard glaring daggers at her back.

Garrus didn't utter a word, his eyes narrowing in concentration, while Tali's determined footsteps echoed in the corridor. The silence was thick with unspoken tension, every second feeling like an eternity. Finally, Tali broke the stillness, her voice urgent. "Come on. We have to reach the op center quickly." She gestured ahead, her expression resolute.

Shepard nodded. She jumped down a ladder to Satima standing guard at the bottom. They met quickly, Shepard forging ahead. Tali took behind Shepard, putting Garrus at the rear with Satima, keeping the girl off the commander's back.

Shepard found herself alone with a lone geth in her sights. She fired, each shot a catharsis for the storm of rage brewing inside her. Then, more geth emerged from the shadows, as if drawn by the scent of battle. "They're throwing their lives away!" Shepard called out, her voice tinged with a mix of frustration and anticipation. The enemy seemed endless, each one a stepping stone to the unknown horrors that lay ahead.

Tali took cover, "Networked intelligence! As we kill them, their attacks become more aggressive!"

"Disable their shields!", Shepard shouted while lobbing a lift grenade.
With a sharp explosion, two geth were lifted off the ground, their fragmented remains scattering through the air. Shrapnel clinked against the metal walls, adding to the cacophony of battle. Tali's drone buzzed energetically ahead, drawing enemy fire away from the main path. Garrus and Satima seized the opportunity, stealthily maneuvering to outflank the distracted geth troops.

Garrus dropped one, "And don't give them time to recharge!"
"Reload!", Shepard shouted as more came through.

Garrus's sniper shots rang true, each one a precise strike that dropped a geth trooper. Satima, moving with feline grace, slashed through another with her blade before finishing with a swift pistol shot. Tali's drone buzzed through the chaos, drawing fire and creating openings. Shepard hefted the revenant, unleashing a storm of bullets that mowed down the remaining enemies, her face set in grim determination. The battlefield was a symphony of destruction, each member of the team playing their part with lethal efficiency.

With them finally down, they proceeded. Shepard took a step forward and heard a clicking sound. "Mine!", Tali shouted.

Shepard jumped back in time before it exploded in fire.
"Trip mine.", Tali informed.

Satima rushed over to Shepard, her heart pounding with fear. "Are you alright?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Shepard, with a fierce look in her eyes, dusted herself off. "I'm fine," she replied tersely, her tone as cold as ice. Satima stepped back, casting a worried glance at Garrus. "If looks could kill," he thought, gripping his weapon tighter.

Shepard led the team onward, nimbly dodging more insidious mines and weaving past the heated coils that hissed like serpents. The end of the walkway revealed a heavy door, which Shepard forcefully opened, revealing a vast corridor bathed in an eerie, flickering light. The walls were lined with an array of grids, panels, and various stations humming with activity. She walked with purpose to a nearby console labeled "Signal Console," the tension in the air palpable.

"Look, the signal's hitting all geth processes. The reapers have them completely under control.", Shepard pointed out.

"We've tried jamming it, hacking it, and piggybacking garbage data to corrupt it. Nothing worked.", Tali exclaimed.

"Nothing short of bombing the hell outta this place.", Satima replied as she looked around the area.

"That didn't work either.", Tali said sadly.

Another station also labeled Sensor console was ahead. Shepard pressed a panel.

"Sensor data. Any sign of how the quarians are doing?", Garrus asked.

"We're taking heavy losses. The geth have a planetary defense cannon.
It's ripping through our fleet.", Tali reported.

"Shit," Satima muttered under her breath, her eyes scanning the chaotic scene. Jormun would've been beside himself with worry for his people if he were here. Satima clenched her fists, a fierce determination igniting within her. In his memory she vowed to save the quarians, no matter the cost.

"Is there anything we can do to help them?", Shepard asked worried.
Tali shook her head, "Just make their sacrifice worthwhile." She glanced at them and then at Satima, who nodded to her in solemn understanding.

Further into the ship, Shepard moved cautiously, her eyes darting to every shadow, every potential threat. They were in enemy territory, and the geth were relentless in their pursuit. Every corner could harbor an ambush, every shadow a lurking danger.

Watching for mines or any other surprises the geth might have laid down, Shepard's heart pounded with every step. A third station lined the wall in front of her with the label Network Console gleaming ominously.
"Why do we need to find the operations center? Wouldn't any access console do?" she inquired, her voice tensed with anticipation, hoping her instincts were right.

"No. Anything, we do here, the geth could counter. Too many fault-checks and redundancy levels for what we need to do.", Tali stated.

Shepard spotted a door ahead. Tali walked up from behind, "The dreadnought's operation center is just ahead."

"Good. Let's cut the Reaper signal and get the fleet out of here.", Shepard said.

The door slid open with a hiss, and a barrage of weapons fire greeted them. Shepard instinctively rolled to cover, narrowly avoiding the lethal onslaught. Satima and Garrus charged into the fray, finding refuge behind a bulkhead alongside Tali, who was directly opposite Shepard.

A geth hunter finished locking down the op center controls before aiming with its weapon and activating its stealth mode.

"Wonderful. Invisible robots.", Satima peaked from cover firing her pistol.
"Not a robot!", Tali yelled.

Garrus yanked Satima back just in time as a hunter materialized before them. With a swift kick, he sent it sprawling, then fired, "Quiet! Satima, take the left and search for any reflective shielding. Tali, cover Shepard! I'm charging the front!", he barked, his voice a mix of command and urgency.

Shepard couldn't help but grin. Garrus was truly a force to be reckoned with, leading his team with unwavering precision and boldness.

"The hunters are moving in!", Tali shouted as she fired.

Garrus got further ahead to the op center console. A hunter from behind stalked him and opened fire. He barely dodged it.

Garrus pressed on, moving swiftly toward the op center console, his senses keenly attuned to any threats. Suddenly, a burst of gunfire erupted from behind him. He spun around and narrowly evaded the shots, feeling the heat of the plasma grazing past his armor. With lightning reflexes, he returned fire, forcing the geth hunter to take cover.

"Stay sharp! They're trying to flank us!" he called out, his voice cutting through the cacophony of battle.

Satima dropped down in front, her movements swift and precise as she plunged her blade into the geth's flashlight head. Sparks erupted violently, illuminating her determined expression. The geth convulsed before collapsing with a heavy thud that echoed through the room.

Satima quickly spun around, her eyes locking with Garrus's. She gave him a curt nod, signaling her readiness for whatever came next.

Shepard watched the event quickly before dropping two hunters that jumped out in front of her. Tali used her drone to help along the way. "Couldn't hide from that!", Garrus shouted.

Shepard brought out her omni-blade killing another hunter.
"Watch your six! At least one hunter still active!", Garrus yelled across the room.

Shepard found the last hunter, slicing its metal head off with her omni-blade in a swift, decisive motion. The final geth fell to the ground, its lights flickering out as Shepard stood tall, her eyes scanning the room for any remaining threats.

"That's the last of them. Let's see if that console is operational.", Tali said, pushing geth pieces out of the way with her boot.

Satima looked around as they walked up the path to the console. She spotted a familiar small instrument. "More live mines.", she said to them.
"I see them, thanks.", Tali replied.

Shepard pressed the console panel. A large holo of the dreadnought appeared ahead of them over an image console.

"Damn it, they've locked down the Reaper signal. We can shut it down from here in the operation center.", Tali said as she quickly got to work on the console.

Shepard glanced to the right and spotted a panel pinging. She pressed it and the signal was unblocked. "There! The Reaper signal's coming from the drive core!", Tali yelled excited and relieved.

"So, if we get there, we shut it down?", Shepard asked.

"Right, but how do we get there? The geth have sealed emergency bulkheads to block us off.", Tali typed away on the console. "We need a route to the drive core that can't be blocked, a path that runs the length of the ship."

"You could start an emergency overflow of something, to release the shutdown, I mean. It would make a path somewhere.", Satima offered.
Shepard thought about what Satima suggested. "What about the main battery? It runs right by the drive core."

"That could work.", Tali sounded skeptical.

"But?", Shepard inquired.

"The geth still have us locked in here. We need to get these doors open.", Tali gestured towards the room. "They've locked high-level processes. We need something basic...a ship-wide emergency, like a fire." Tali nodded to Satima who smiled back.

"Nice!", Satima exclaimed, eyes wide with excitement.

"What about the heat diffusion system?", Shepard asked concerned.

"Wait. If I faked a thermal warning, it would open all maintenance tubes for emergency venting!", Tali spun on her heels and started pressing panels.

"Would that override the lockdown?", Shepard asked.

"Without a doubt.", Satima chimed in.

"Yes! Okay, I've got it primed."Tali showed them the emergency fire on the dreadnought image. "But be ready. I'm reading hostile geth on the other side of the doors."

The dreadnought holo image showed red patches blaring through its blue core. The door to the left opened with more geth hunters pouring through.

Hunters came through the ceiling of the room.

"Watch out! They're dropping in!", Garrus yelled.

The team scattered for cover. Tali’s fingers danced over the console, her eyes flicking between the screens and the encroaching geth. Garrus positioned himself behind a pillar, his sniper rifle ready to pick off any advancing enemies. Satima, with a determined glint in her eye, lunged forward, taking the fight directly to the geth.

"You're not getting past me," she muttered, her pistol blazing as she took down one hunter after another.

"There could be cloaked hunters as well!", Tali shouted from cover.
"No, shit!", Satima yelled, diving to the side as one of the hunters lunged at her. She swiftly brought her pistol up and fired, the shot ringing out as the geth crumpled to the ground.

Shepard activated her arc pistol, sending a surge of electrical energy that disrupted the shields of two advancing hunters. Satima, seizing the opportunity, shot one down with precision. Garrus swiftly finished off the other.

"Heads up! More on the way!" Garrus shouted, his voice echoing through the chaotic room.

Shepard, determined to aid Garrus in clearing the room, positioned herself beside him. With a silent nod, they synchronized their movements.

"I've got two lined up," Shepard whispered, a smile playing behind her helmet. Garrus, ever smug, replied, "I'll take the three on the left."

Tali couldn't help but roll her eyes at the flirtatious banter amidst the chaos. "Can we not use this time to practice, please," she muttered under her breath.

"Sorry, Tali.", they both said together.

Satima heard them and felt a sudden awkwardness creeping up. However, as the mission progressed and the flirtatious banter between Shepard and Garrus continued unabated, she found herself oddly comfortable with it. She even caught herself smiling at their synchronized moves and quick-witted remarks.

"Look out!", Tali shouted as she ducked away from a hunter's fire. It appeared between Garrus and Shepard. They both fired their weapons, dropping the robotic body hard.

"That was too close.", Tali said as she leaned on the console.
Satima quickly dispatched the last enemy, her movements fluid and precise. The team bolted down the ramp to join her, each member poised and ready. Tali strode past with laser focus on the mission ahead.

Shepard offered Satima a quick nod of acknowledgment, while Garrus lingered protectively at the rear, his keen eyes scanning for any threats.

"Let's get to the maintenance shaft before more reinforcements arrive.", Tali said unlocking the next door.

As they ventured down the dark corridor, the oppressive silence was suddenly shattered by a deafening boom that reverberated through the ship. Each step they took seemed to echo with foreboding, the shadows around them flickering ominously.

"I've served on a lot of ships, but nothing like this. The contours are all off. It's not built for organics.", Garrus commented.

Satima's eyes narrowed, "You should see the HIVE. It would make your skin crawl. If we can't stop the Reapers, the future is going to be a nightmare.", she said, her voice laced with urgency.

"I'm sorry, but did she just mention the future? What kind of nightmare are we talking about here?", Tali asked, her voice tinged with both curiosity and concern.

"I'll tell you later. Shouldn't be much farther to the main battery.", Shepard said. "I'm surprised they'd send you on this mission, Tali."

"Even Admirals are expected to serve. I'm better at hacking than ordering ships around.", Tali responded.

"Yeah, against an enemy dreadnought, your combat drone would just float there making that...noise.", Garrus replied with a smirk.

"I missed you too, Garrus.", Tali chuckled.

Shepard stood at the door, ready to breach it with a determined glint in her eyes. Satima held the rear, her vigilant gaze sweeping the dimly lit corridor. Garrus and Tali flanked Shepard, anticipation etched on their faces. It was time to bypass the security lock.

As the door slid open with a mechanical hiss, Shepard led the charge, their footsteps echoing in the confined space. Above them, the ship's structure loomed ominously, and the distant rumble of the ongoing battle outside served as a constant reminder of the stakes.

"Stay alert," Shepard commanded, her voice steady yet urgent. The team pressed forward, navigating the labyrinthine corridors with practiced precision, knowing that every second counted.

One by one, they descended the ladder, the clang of their boots against the metal rungs echoing through the dim corridor. The oppressive quiet was only broken by the occasional distant roar, a reminder that danger was never far away. As they reached the lower level, the sound grew louder, more insistent. It wasn't coming from outside—they were headed straight towards it.

"Stay sharp," Shepard whispered, her voice barely audible. The team moved with a practiced grace, each member alert and ready for whatever lay ahead. The air was thick with anticipation, the weight of their mission pressing down on them.

Their path wound through the narrow corridors, and with every step, the ominous noise seemed to grow closer, more menacing. It was as if the very heart of the ship was alive, pulsing with a restless energy that set their nerves on edge.

"Do you hear that?" Satima asked, her voice hushed yet tense. "It's like it's right behind the next door."

Shepard nodded, signaling for the team to prepare. Weapons drawn, they approached the door, the source of the unsettling sound just beyond. The moment of truth was upon them—whatever awaited on the other side, they were ready to face it together.

Within moments of exploring the lower level, Tali suddenly stopped, her breath quickening as a message came through. "Damn it," she muttered. "Priority message: A planetary defense cannon just took down Admiral Kori's ship!"

"Any survivors, Tali?" Shepard urgently inquired, her voice cutting through the tense silence.

"They got to escape pods, and I've got Admiral Raan trying to establish a secure link.", Tali replied.

"Put her through.", Shepard said. She motioned for everyone to hold. Satima slowly walked beside Tali and Garrus, her weapon relaxed.

"Shepard, this is Raan. The Heavy Fleet is collapsing. I don't know how much longer we can hold out.", Admiral Raan sounded tired and beyond worried.

"We'll have the Reaper signal deactivated shortly, Admiral.", Shepard reassured.

The comms ended abruptly, leaving an uneasy silence hanging in the air. Shepard gave a curt nod, her eyes scanning the surroundings with laser-like intensity. "Move out!" she ordered, her voice sharp and resolute.

They descended the final ladder, every creak of the metal rungs echoing their heightened heartbeat. The tension was evident as they neared their destination, the oppressive darkness of the lower levels swallowing them whole. Each step felt like a countdown to an inevitable confrontation, the air thick with unspoken fears and unyielding determination.

"I wonder what's behind door number three?", Garrus quipped.

"Do you hear that? It sounds very close.", Satima commented.

The loud roar seemed to be literally behind the next door. Shepard's heart pounded as she aimed her rifle, ready for anything. Her team followed suit, each step deliberate and cautious.

Suddenly, a loud click echoed in the silence, followed by a deafening boom that shook the very ground beneath them. Shepard's instincts kicked in, and she motioned for her team to take cover, their breaths quick and shallow as they prepared for whatever lay ahead.

"There it is again!", Satima said.

"It's the main battery!", Garrus shouted.

"Down this ramp here!", Shepard yelled.

They scrambled down the ramp, the oppressive darkness swallowing them whole. The ground beneath them trembled, every step fraught with peril. A deafening roar, louder than before, echoed through the corridor. They took cover against the wall just in time to evade a massive EMP shockwave that surged past them.

"MOTHER FU...", Satima started.

"Watch the shock wave! That's a big gun.", Shepard shouted shaking her head at Satima.

"I told you I heard something dangerous.", Satima replied eying Shepard.

Adrenaline surged through Shepard's veins as she sprinted ahead, with Satima hot on her heels. Garrus and Tali veered off onto a side ramp, their figures barely visible in the dim light, before rejoining Shepard on the grated walkway. Another ominous click reverberated through the air, followed by a shock wave that sent shivers down their spines. They pressed forward, hearts pounding, aware that each step might be their last.

"Hate to be in front of that bastard!", Garrus yelled.

"KEELAH!", Tali jumped backwards nearly falling out in front of it.

Garrus quickly grabbed her, pulling her back behind cover. "Sorry, Tali."

"Garrus, keep my best hacker alive, please!", Shepard shouted.

"Yes Ma'am!", he shouted back.

"Regretting leaving Haven, regretting leaving Jormun...", Satima muttered to herself as she dodged another shock wave with Shepard.

"Who's Jormun?", Tali asked.

"No one!", Satima shouted across the walkway.

"More incoming! We should be okay if we stay in cover!", Tali shouted bringing out her shotgun.

"Good time for sniping!", Garrus laughed.

Shepard unleashed a barrage of fire on the approaching troopers. Satima matched her intensity, targeting a rocket trooper with precision. Garrus, ever the sharpshooter, picked off three more troopers with deadly accuracy. The team moved with synchronized ferocity, their every action a testament to their unyielding resolve.

"Proximity alert!" Garrus' voice cut through the chaos like a knife.

"What?" Tali's voice was tinged with urgency.

"Hunters!" Garrus shouted back, his tone leaving no room for doubt.

"Ah, dammit!" Satima's frustration was visible as she took down an enemy trooper in a hail of bullets.

"Shock wave incoming!" Shepard's warning was sharp, and they all instinctively ducked just as the wave of energy surged past them.

"That thing is really pissing me off!" Satima's voice was strained, her anger barely held in check. The team pressed on, each step heavy with the weight of the unknown, every shadow a potential threat.

More cloaked hunters darted through the chaos, their movements barely perceptible amidst the pandemonium. The shock wave seemed to have no effect on them as they advanced with deadly precision. With a swift motion, Shepard dispatched two hunters with her arc pistol, the weapon's hum resonating through the corridor.

The alarm blared loudly, signaling imminent danger. Garrus and Tali were already halfway down the corridor, their steps quick and purposeful. Shepard pushed forward desperately, but Satima was struggling with two more hunters. Without hesitation, Shepard sprinted to her side, her mind focused solely on the immediate threat. Satima, gritting her teeth, finally managed to neutralize the first hunter with a lethal burst of gunfire.

"Shepard... Watch out!", she shouted.

Shepard turned back too late, caught in the shock wave's ruthless grip. Her shields plummeted to zero as she staggered forward, nausea crashing over her from the EMP's impact.

Satima, breathing heavily and adrenaline coursing through her veins, didn't waste a second. She dashed to Shepard's side, her eyes blazing with determination. "Come on, Commander, we've got this," she urged, slinging Shepard's arm over her shoulder. Together, they scrambled up the ramp, every step a defiance against the chaos around them.

Garrus, with pinpoint accuracy, sniped the hunter that had been stalking them. Shepard leaned heavily against the wall as another shock wave pulsed through the corridor. "Satima? Why did you put yourself at risk like that?" her voice was a mixture of concern and admiration.

"Because... I couldn't just leave you behind. We're a team, and I won't let you take all the risks alone." Satima handed Shepard a medi-gel compact with a determined look. "Here, use this. It'll help with the nausea."

Shepard applied the gel to her suit, her breath coming easier as the relief set in. "How did you know it would work?"

Satima let out a light chuckle, her eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and grit. "I got hit by the shock wave three hunters ago. I figured it out the hard way, but I didn't want to worry you."

Shepard couldn't help but grin, despite the chaos surrounding them. "You're something else, Satima. Let's finish this."

"We need to get going.", Garrus said through the comms.

Shepard and Satima dashed back onto the walkway, the sounds of battle echoing around them. The corridor stretched out before them, a precarious pathway fraught with danger. Ducking and weaving to avoid the relentless shock waves, they fought off hunters with fierce determination. Each wave seemed more intense than the last, but their resolve never wavered.

Ahead, the ladder to the floor above came into view, a beacon of hope amidst the chaos. They pushed forward, hearts pounding, every step evident to their unyielding spirit.

"Up high!", Garrus shouted.

Shepard dodged more fire. Satima managed to get ahead to Tali and Garrus. Shepard pushed through, using her arc pistol and omni-blade. Another wave.

"We need to shut it down!", Shepard yelled taking cover yet again.

"Find the maintenance lock! That'll take it offline!", Garrus shouted down the walkway.

Shepard found a ramp leading up to a catwalk overhead. Screw the ladder. She shot down a hunter trying to sneak up on her from the corner of the wall.

Shepard remained safe from the shock wave on the top level. She aimed, overlooking the walkway below to geth troopers boxing in her team. She let loose rapid fire on them.

"Tali's been shot!", Garrus roared.

"Hold on! I'm coming!", Shepard yelled.

"I'm on it!" Satima shouted, her voice cutting through the din of battle. She darted past two hunters, narrowly avoiding a deadly shock wave, and leaped over a low barrier with agile precision. "I know a thing or two about quarian containment and their suits."

With practiced speed, she applied medi-gel Garrus handed her, using her omni-tool to reroute suit functions. Her fingers moved in a blur, sealing the wounded area on Tali's arm. Satima's heart raced as she activated the suit's scrubbers, a silent prayer for success hovering on her lips. The corridor seemed to close in around them, every second stretching into an eternity as they fought against overwhelming odds.

"Thank you, Satima.", Tali said gratefully.

"We're a team.", Satima helped Tali to her feet.

Shepard finished the remaining hunters and jumped down the ladder. She ran across the walkway to the console on the other side.

"There's the lock!", Garrus shouted.

Shepard pressed the panel quickly deactivating the shock wave for the moment. Everyone sighed with relief.

"Let's not do that again.", Satima smirked.

A hidden door panel opened. Tali stretched her arm. "Are you good?", Shepard asked concerned.

"Better than good. That girl knows her way around a battle field, and a quarian suit.", Tali nodded towards Satima.

"I'm glad she helped.", Shepard agreed.

Garrus hovered in front of the door opening, "That'll buy us time. No way they'll fire with that maintenance lock in place."

"Let's move then.", Shepard said.

After Shepard began walking through the core room, a hard jerk knocked her down.

"Ah... shit!", Satima yelled.

"Gun's coming back online!", Garrus shouted.

Circular panels began to whirl in motion, picking up speed and a bright light at the end of this tunnel was getting closer.

"Come on! Let's get out of here!", Shepard yelled.

"Don't have to tell me twice, Shepard!", Tali shouted.

Without wasting a moment, Shepard motioned for everyone to sprint up the ramp, the glaring light behind her casting elongated shadows that danced menacingly.

Each step felt like an eternity as they raced upwards. Suddenly, a loud alarm pierced the tension-filled air, followed by the ominous click of a mechanism engaging.

"GO!" Satima's voice sliced through the cacophony, filled with urgency and determination.

Shepard leaped in behind them, landing with a thud, just as the door slammed shut with a resounding clang.

"Cutting it a bit close, aren't we?" Garrus shouted, his voice a mixture of relief and adrenaline.

They now faced the opposite side of the main battery corridor, where the relentless shock waves continued to assault them. Immediately, they were besieged by a new swarm of geth, their hunters and rocket troopers presenting a formidable challenge.

"Watch your shields! Stick to cover!" Tali's voice rang out, authoritative and clear.

"That's it. I officially hate geth!" Satima shouted, her frustration evident as she fired back with renewed vigor.

Shepard and Garrus dashed forward, taking cover behind a sturdy wall on the far left. Satima and Tali moved in sync, their movements precise and swift as they stuck together, providing each other with cover and firepower.

"Do you take pleasure in making your boyfriend worry about you?", Garrus's voice was laden with concern and affection.

"Garrus... this isn't exactly the best time for heart-to-heart talks," Shepard said, her voice tinged with a mix of exasperation and affection as she fired from cover.

“I know, but… why did you hesitate?” Garrus's voice held a mix of worry and longing, his eyes searching hers for an answer that could ease his tumultuous heart.

Shepard shot a hunter down, with ammo to spare on a trooper. "I didn't hesitate. I needed to make sure my team made it safely through. I got in fine." Her eyes met Garrus's, her gaze softening just for a moment amidst the chaos. "Always thinking about you," she added with a slight, teasing smile.

Garrus sniped a hunter stalking Satima. "Shepard... if anything happened to you..." His voice trailed off, laden with concern and fear.

Shepard nudged him gently with her arm, her eyes softening as they met his. "Garrus, I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself," she said with a reassuring smile. "You don't need to worry so much."

Garrus's mandibles twitched in a rare display of Turian emotion, his gaze never leaving hers. "I can't help it. You're everything to me," he confessed, his voice full of emotion.

Shepard's heart warmed at his words, and she gave him a quick, affectionate kiss on the cheek. "And you're everything to me, Garrus. Now, let's get through this, together."

Garrus nodded, feeling a surge of warmth at her words. "Sorry, Shepard."
"Don't apologize.", she said while shooting a group of troopers.

"Three rocket bastards ahead, Shepard!" Satima yelled, her voice cutting through the clamor, a clear warning amidst the chaos.

Shepard swiftly pulled her rifle into position, her eyes narrowing as she honed in on the targets. Beside her, Garrus's sharpshooting skills came into play, each shot precise and lethal. Satima and Tali deftly maneuvered to avoid another shock wave, their movements synchronized like a well-rehearsed dance.

Further ahead, a relentless wave of geth poured out, their mechanical forms clattering ominously. The team responded with synchronized precision; grenades and mines flew, and Tali's drone buzzed through the chaos like an avenging spirit.

Shepard finished dispatching a geth just as Tali's drone floated by. She chuckled, shaking her head. "A little late to the party, aren't you?" The drone hovered innocuously, seemingly unaffected by her comment.

Down below, the staccato of Tali's shotgun could be heard echoing through the battlefield. Satima dashed to the end, her movements swift and precise, her gun blazing at the encroaching hunters. Each shot was a dance with danger, her actions a testament to her unwavering determination to protect her team.

A rocket geth loomed menacingly, obstructing Tali's path as she tried to follow Garrus and Shepard. Garrus turned swiftly, his eyes narrowing with determination. With a steady aim, he fired his mantis, the shot ringing out and blasting the mechanical head off the geth. Silence followed, but the tension lingered. "All clear, Tali," he said, his voice calm but edged with the unspoken urgency of their mission.

Tali finally made it to the ramp with the rest of the team. "How's that arm doing?", Shepard asked.

"Good.", Tali replied.

Shepard approached the formidable doors, her steps confident and unwavering. With a swift motion, she bypassed the lock, the mechanism yielding to her expert touch. Her team remained vigilant, their weapons at the ready, eyes scanning for any sign of threat.

"Door number five from the main gun.", Garrus said to himself.

It opened for them. "Oh look. An elevator. How convenient.", Satima said skeptical of the easiness of the situation.

They got on the platform, taking it up to the level above them. Suddenly, a door opened behind the rising platform with two geth troopers running out. And one of them had a rocket.

"Watch out!", Shepard yelled.

The geth shot the rocket straight towards the lift's edge, damaging the coils. Shepard, standing precariously on the edge, felt the platform shudder beneath her feet. Her heart raced as she teetered dangerously close to the abyss.

The platform lurched to a halt, and the team hurriedly disembarked. Tali turned just in time to see the platform begin to fall, and Shepard waver on the brink.

"Shepard!" Tali's voice rang out, filled with urgency. "Grab my hand!"

Shepard sprinted towards Tali, her hand outstretched in desperation. She reached Tali's grasp just as the lift collapsed into the chasm below. Clutching the edge, Shepard dangled precariously, her grip slipping.

"Hang on!" Tali shouted, her voice trembling with fear.

With all her strength, Tali hauled Shepard up as Satima and Garrus rushed to assist. Shepard rolled onto solid ground, breathing heavily.

"I'm alright," Shepard said, shaking off the near-disaster with a forced calm.

"Good. Hopefully we're done with elevators," Tali replied, her voice still shaky. "Come on. The drive core shouldn't be far."

The team pressed on, their senses heightened, each step a reminder of the perils they faced.

Up ahead Shepard stopped. "Shit.", she said shaking her head.

"What's wrong?", Garrus asked.

"Another damn ladder.", she pointed.

Satima chuckled in the background. Garrus pointed also, "Want me to go first?"

Shepard slapped his arm, "Shut up, Vakarian." She led the way again up another ladder.

Through the door to the drive core room, Shepard sprinted in, only to come to an abrupt halt. Garrus and Tali almost collided with her, their eyes widening at the sight before them.

"What-the hell-is that?", Satima pointed with her pistol to a core pod, blackened and ominous. The top was entwined with a grotesque array of Reaper tech.

Shepard holstered her rifle and dashed to the console. "That's definitely Reaper tech. But what's...", her voice trailed off, a chill running down her spine.

The huge core panels creaked and groaned as they opened, hissing as they lifted out and up, revealing the ominous source of the Reaper's signal. An eerie, blinding light flooded the room.

Inside was a geth, ensnared in a web of cables, each one pulsing with a sinister energy. It seemed... trapped, a prisoner of some dark force. The team exchanged uneasy glances, the air thick with tension and the weight of the unknown pressing down on them.

The geth looked up, "Shepard-Commander. Help us."

"Legion.", Shepard spoke to herself in disbelief.

"Good to see you, Legion. We'll have you out of there in no time.", Garrus reassured the geth.

"Legion?", Satima asked quietly.

"Shepard, wait. The geth are being controlled by the Reaper signal.", Tali warned.

"Right. This thing.", Shepard agreed.

"So, for all we know, Legion is with them. Maybe it sided with the Reapers voluntarily. Or maybe it's hacked.", Tali exclaimed.

Shepard shook her head, "Legion helped us fight the Reapers before. There's no way it would have agreed to this."

"Does it look like it would agree to this?", Satima pointed out as well.

"Your caution is understandable. Once freed, we will submit to any restraints you deem necessary.", Legion agreed.

Tali relaxed at her friend's assurance, "I never thought I'd say this, but...it's good to see you again."

"Likewise, Creator Zorah.", Legion replied.

"So, what is this thing?", Shepard asked.

"It uses our networking architecture to broadcast the Old Machine command signal to all geth simultaneously.", Legion explained.

"Then getting you out of there will shut off the Reaper signal.", Shepard asked again.

"Wait.", Legion feared," you cannot simply remove the restraints. We are secured via hardware blocks nearby that shackle our operating protocols."

"Termination?", Satima asked.

"Yes.", Legion said. Legion nodded his head to an upper level, "The hardware blocks are on the far side of the room."

Shepard took out her pistol and walked to a ladder. "Far side of the room, you said?"

"Yes. Deactivation should be simple. The geth protected them against viral attack, not physical removal.", Legion explained.

Shepard used the ladder that led to the console Legion was talking about.
"How'd the Reapers get control of the geth?", she asked.

"They did not. The creators attacked. The geth wished to live. The Old Machines extended an offer." Legion sounded disappointed.

"So, we went to that geth station and rewrote the heretics for what? Nothing?", Shepard walked to the console.

"No. You successfully rewrote the heretics. The decision to ally with the Old Machines was difficult. Had the creators not attacked, it would have been unnecessary.", Legion lamented.

"We'll have you out of there soon.", Shepard assured.

"Sounds like they only joined the Reapers because the quarians attacked.", Garrus stated.

"Nothing excuses an Alliance with the Reapers. They could've found another way.", Tali said upset.

"Some would say the same about turians curing the genophage and allying with the krogan.", Garrus replied looking at Tali.

"Damn it, I begged them to negotiate rather than attack. I did.", Tali sounded clearly distraught.

"Let's just get Legion out of there.", Shepard said quickly.

Shepard found the panel, pressing the holo grid. "Got it!", she blurted.

"Tali'Zorah to fleet. The signal is about to go offline.", Tali got a reply. "This is Admiral Han'Gerrel. We're in your debt." Everyone nodded to each other in victory.

"Hardware blocks offline. We are free.", said Legion. With a thud, Legion was freed from the cables. The platform lowered him to an area two levels below them.

The blue core imploded. Delivering a level EMP wave. "Keelah!", Tali shouted. The drive core is successfully shut down.

Legion looked up at Shepard, "As a gesture of cooperation, we have disabled the dreadnought's drive core. All weapons and barriers are offline." Legion glanced to his side hearing a loud thud from the rooms beyond.

Shepard and team un-holstered weapons.

"Alert! Geth reinforcements incoming!", Legion warned.

"Here we go again.", Satima cocked a fresh thermal clip in her pistol.
Several geth dropped from the ceiling above, ready to attack. A geth prime landed loudly, vibrating the floor.

"Sentinel...", Satima whispered to herself, her voice trembling as an unfamiliar fear washed over her. The memory of HIVE and its monstrous security systems flashed in her mind, tightening her grip on the pistol. The air in the room grew heavier, every sound amplified in the tense silence, as if the very walls were holding their breath, waiting for what would come next.

"What?", Shepard yelled.

"...take cover!", Satima shouted behind a wall.

Comms were open as they fought around the geth.

" The geth fleet is destabilized. The signal is offline.", Admiral Xen commed.

"Watch out, that's a prime!", Tali yelled at Satima. She nearly got hit by its heavy beam blaster.

More comm chatter.

"Civilian Fleet, prepare to withdraw. The Patrol Fleet will cover you once the Heavy Fleet is in position.", Admiral Raan informed. "Whenever you're ready, Admiral Gerrel."

"Good. Let's see what the quarians can do," Garrus shouted, his voice brimming with anticipation.

Shepard's sniper shots cut through the chaotic din, each one a precise answer to the Prime's relentless blaster fire. Drones swarmed like angry wasps, their ominous hum filling the air. Hunters, agile and menacing, closed the distance with predatory grace, turning the room into a battlefield where every second counted.

Tali's shotgun roared, dropping two enemies in quick succession. Satima's mind flashed back to the fierce battles with Jormun on HIVE as she fired her pistol, taking down a trooper before ducking from a drone's deadly beam, sent by the Prime.

Garrus held his ground, his rifle unleashing a relentless barrage of fire. He deployed proximity mines with precision to thwart the hunters' attempts to flank them, his overload ability frequently incapacitating foes.

Tali's drone buzzed into action, drawing heavy fire away from their position. Meanwhile, Shepard's sniper shots echoed through the chaos, each one a precise takedown of the closing hunters. In the midst of the turmoil, Satima inched closer to the Prime, determination etched on her face.

As Satima inched closer to the Prime, flashes of the sentinel from HIVE haunted her mind. With a mix of determination and fear, she unleashed her overload and energy drain abilities on the massive geth. The crackling energy struck the geth, each pulse chipping away at its formidable shield. She could feel the tide of battle shifting with every precise hit, her heart pounding in tandem with the chaotic rhythm of the battlefield.

Shepard, Tali and Garrus were finally able to get closer. "It's setting up turrets!", Garrus yelled.

Shepard shot them down with her arc pistol. Tali drained a rocket troopers shielding for Shepard to destroy it. Garrus hopped over a console to bash in the flashlight head of a geth hunter with his mantis. "That's one way to do it.", Shepard laughed.

"The senti... prime, is headed your way!", Satima shouted.

The prime stalked through the area towards them, firing its blaster straight at Shepard. Tali used her drone again. "There, Shepard find cover!"

Shepard ran around the prime, looking for a better spot to flank it. Satima came from behind, taking aim with her energy drains again.

"All together, everyone!", Shepard shouted.

Garrus and Tali unleashed a torrent of firepower, their synchronized attacks an impressive display of tactical prowess. Garrus's pinpoint overloads disrupted the enemy lines, while Tali's drone darted through the chaos, drawing and diverting the relentless fire. Satima, following their lead, fired her pistol with precision, each shot a testament to her resolve. Shepard picked off targets with deadly accuracy, their collective efforts weaving a symphony of destruction against the advancing foes.

She used her remaining lift grenades. The shield was broken. "Bring it down!", Shepard yelled. They all fired again. This time the prime had nowhere to go.

It roared in defiance as it fell, exploding in fiery shrapnel. "Let's finish the stragglers!", Shepard shouted.

Two more hunters fell to Tali's roaring shotgun, each blast a testament to her unwavering resolve. Garrus, with the precision of a seasoned sharpshooter, finished off a rocket trooper, his eyes never leaving the target. Satima, a whirlwind of iron will, cleared out drones and mines with a deadly grace. The symphony of destruction that they orchestrated was nothing short of breathtaking – all in a day's work.

With the deadly ballet of the firefight concluded, the team took a breath, their comms crackling to life amidst the fading echoes of battle. The air was thick with the scent of scorched metal and the thrill of hard-won victory.

"Admiral Gerrel, what are you doing?", Raan sounded worried.

"Raan, check your screens! The dreadnought is helpless!", Gerrel exclaimed. "No barriers, and the main gun is offline. We can remove their flagship if we strike now!"

Admiral Raan yelled over the comms,"Damn it, this is our chance to withdraw the Civilian Fleet safely!"

"What are you talking about? We're still on board!", Tali shouted over comms.

"We can't waste this chance. Heavy Fleet, all forward. Take out the dreadnought!", Admiral Gerrel roared his order over comms.

"We're on the dreadnought assholes!", Satima shouted angrily.

"Patrol Fleet, hold position!", Admiral Raan yelled in defiance.

"You do that, and the Heavy Fleet gets wiped out.", Admiral Gerrel shouts to Raan."And if we die, a simple retreat won't save you from the geth response!"

"Damn you, Gerrel.", Raan screamed.

Tali shot a trooper down, "Damn it, what are they doing?"

"Focus on the geth! We'll worry about the admirals later!", Shepard shouted.

More geth poured in, relentless and unyielding. Satima and Tali moved with a deadly grace, taking down five of the mechanical foes with swift precision. Garrus, deployed a mine and executed two perfect headshots, the geth crumpling to the ground. Shepard, undeterred, forged ahead with her arc pistol, each shot ringing with finality. Suddenly, another Prime appeared, towering and formidable. With seamless coordination and unparalleled skill, they converged on the massive geth, dismantling it in a spectacular display of teamwork and prowess.

Comms opened, "Patrol Fleet, flanking support on the Heavy Fleet. Give them a firing lane.", Admiral Raan ordered.

Shepard led them through the lower level platform. It was time to get off the dreadnought.

"All ships, open fire!", Admiral Gerrel yelled.

Suddenly, a violent hull breach sent everyone sprawling to the floor. Flames erupted around them, adding to the chaos. As the core began to collapse inward, it narrowly missed Legion, who darted out of its path just in time. The team quickly scrambled to their feet, their bodies and minds readying for the next onslaught.

"Shepard-Commander, the creator fleet is firing upon this vessel.", Legion warned. "Without barriers, this ship will be destroyed. We must evacuate."
Shepard leads her team to a door on their level. "We need to get to the escape pods."

"Geth transmit intelligence via remote signal. We do not use escape pods.", Legion advised.

"Can I shoot him?" Satima quipped, her voice dripping with mock impatience.

"No," the squad chorused in unison, their voices a blend of exasperation and amusement.

Shepard opened the door, "Suggestions?"

"Geth fighters are docked in the port-side fighter bay. We can pilot a fighter to safety.", Legion replied.

Shepard ran ahead right into an exploding hallway. Another close one. She turned right, leading them out through another door. "Shepard to fleet! Hold fire! I repeat, hold fire!"

"They're not responding!", Tali shouted.

"Damn it!", Shepard bellowed.

"Pricks!", Satima shouted.

"Satima! Enough!", Shepard yelled.

Through another door, they arrived at the hangar, the air thick with tension. Each step echoed ominously, as if the walls themselves held their breath. Loud explosions and fiery entrapments surrounded them, threatening to turn their mission into a desperate race against time.

"Shepard-Commander, we have taken control of docking protocols.", Legion informed over comms.

As Shepard sprinted across the platform, a massive walkway suddenly crashed down, obliterating part of the bridge in a deafening roar. Without hesitation, Shepard made a daring leap, only to have the edge of the platform crumble beneath her feet. She plummeted one level down onto another walkway, the impact reverberating through her bones as she quickly regained her footing, determined to push forward despite the odds.

Shepard got up quickly, "We'll... be right there!"

Garrus jumped down behind her, his eyes blazing with fury. "Quarian bastards!" he roared, his voice echoing through the chaos. The quarians continued their relentless assault, seemingly oblivious to their presence. Frustration and anger bubbled to the surface, every shot they fired on the ship they were trying to escape from fueling his rage. He ground his teeth, his words seething with contempt, "They're ignoring us while they tear this place apart!"

Tali, Garrus and Satima followed her up the ramp. "Shepard-Commander, we can only launch from the upper level.", Legion warned again.

"Let's go!", Tali shouted.

More debris fell on the ramp, knocking them from one side to the next. Explosions from the Quarian's Fleet weapons fire had begun to tear the dreadnought apart.

"They're closing the door!", Garrus shouted. "Hurry!", Tali yelled. "We're losing the environment fields!

"Move quickly!", Shepard shouted as she counted them into the geth fighter. Legion stood next to it, completely calm.

A large explosion near them knocked Garrus off his feet and into the fighter's hull. His armor hit it with a loud metal screech.

Legion moved swiftly to Garrus, his grip firm as he yanked Garrus toward the fighter. The suddenness of the action left Garrus momentarily stunned, but he quickly caught on. The artificial gravity had malfunctioned, causing the entire hangar to become a zero-gravity battlefield. Tali and Satima clung to the hull of the fighter, their faces set with determination. Shepard, meanwhile, floated toward the edge, her fingers grasping desperately for a handhold. The chaos around them was a cacophony of explosions and alarms, each second more perilous than the last.

"Normandy to Shepard: I'm reading a loss of gravity. You okay over there?", Joker asked. His voice on the break of panic.

"Fine.", Shepard replied, as she repositioned herself. "We're leaving in a geth fighter. Transmitting rendezvous coordinates."

Shepard flung herself in behind the group. Garrus sat behind Legion, Tali behind him and Shepard found herself behind Tali.

"Does the storage compartment have adequate room, Shepard-Commander?", Legion asked.

"We're fine! Go!", Shepard yelled, pointing towards space.

As Legion prepared to head out, Shepard realized they were short one person. "Wait! Where's Satima?"

"She decided to use another fighter.", Legion said.

As they headed out, another fighter flew alongside them.

"Reckless.", Garrus warned.

The comms crackled to life with Satima's excited shrieks. "Shepard-Commander!" Satima exclaimed, her voice filled with glee as she mimicked Legion. "Guess what I just discovered in our backyard!"

"I believe this is my backyard.", Tali stated.

"I found it first!", Satima flew by fast. Flying around fighting geth ships and quarian fleets.

"Satima! You're going to get yourself killed!", Shepard blared over comms.

"What's that? Sorry, didn't get that last message!", Satima flew further out.

Meanwhile, the Normandy and lingering Quarian Fleet tuned in to the lively banter with interest. Joker, unable to resist the comedy gold, recorded every second. Shepard's team, buoyed by the laughter, made their way back to the Normandy, their spirits high despite the chaos they had just endured.

In the hour that the Admirals met on the Normandy, Tali stayed with Shepard after they left the war room. Gerrel is clearly upset. "Feel better?", Tali asked as she read the crucible's display.

Shepard shrugged, "No. I agreed on the admirals taking the chance when it came, but... it was still an asshole move. Gerrel didn't realize how close he came to screwing us all. If we lost the Normandy again, and if...,"
Tali sucker punched Shepard's arm. "We didn't lose anything. Legion was there to help us and you as always, were there to lead us. Stop thinking about the trivial stuff."

Shepard winced playfully, "That really hurt Tali!"

Tali laughed, "Yeah, well I'm sure Admiral Gerrel got a worse hit."

Shepard anxiously awaited Satima's return, her mind racing with concern. Despite the hybrid's need for a moment of release amid the chaos, the prolonged absence began to gnaw at Shepard's patience. She knew Satima needed this, a chance to vent her frustrations in the adrenaline-fueled war zone, but the hour was growing late and there was still no sign of her.

Determined, Shepard marched to the galaxy map, her footsteps echoing her urgency. "Joker," she called out, her voice firm yet laced with worry.
"Ma'am," came Joker's familiar reply, his tone a mix of professionalism and underlying concern.

Shepard brought out the system they were in. "Pinpoint Satima's location." This was getting troublesome. Joker quickly found a messy signal on a nearby planet, Adas. "There, Commander. Looks like she landed somewhere in a volcanic valley."

Shepard paced, then walked off the ramp, past Traynor. Another mission relied too heavily on her to be compromised now. "Dammit!", she hit the elevator panel.

Shepard turned around quickly, "Joker, keep an eye out for her signal. If it gets jammed or you suddenly lose it, alert me immediately!", Shepard walked inside the elevator.

"Aye-Aye Commander.", Joker replied.

Shepard needed to rescue Korris and deal with the geth fighters. Why would Satima land on Adas? What was she up to?

She could send another team to find her, but Shepard needed every able body when facing the Reapers. Could Satima hold her own until Shepard arrived? The tension was palpable. Shepard’s thoughts raced with a mix of anxiety and determination. Time was ticking, and every second counted. They'll both find out soon enough just how resilient Satima truly was.

Satima could see the Normandy from her pilot's chair. The geth fighter was horribly cramped. At least she was flying again, even if it wasn't in her beloved Haven. This would have to do for now.

She finished her hurried message to Shepard, knowing full well that the Commander would be furious about her impromptu joy-ride. But as the adrenaline surged through her veins, Satima couldn't bring herself to care. Every second out here was a test of her skills, her resilience, and her determination to survive in the chaos of the war zone.

As she scanned the nearby planets from her omni-tool, a sudden feeling of dread crept over her. A small rift opened discretely behind the pilot chair, closing as quickly as it came. She felt a cold metal hand clamp down on her shoulder, its grip unyielding.

"Land on the next planet. It was habitable once, before the quarians made their mistake," the droid voice growled with an ominous edge.

Satima lunged her arm forward, desperately reaching for her weapon, but Archer's blade pressed even closer to her throat. "I wouldn't try it, Satima," he hissed, his voice dripping with menace. "I really don't like the thought of ending you here."

Satima gulped hard against the pressure of the blade, her heart pounding like a war drum. "After I land, what next?" she managed to choke out, each word a struggle against the cold metal at her throat.

Archer leaned in to her ear, his breath cold and mechanical. "Patience, my dear," he whispered, each word a chilling promise of what was to come.
.......................................
Adas

Archer struck Satima fiercely in the gut, sending shockwaves of pain through her body. She doubled over, clutching her stomach, feeling as if her insides were about to rupture. Archer loomed over her, his presence menacing. "I suspect at this very moment, that Reaper has saved the admiral and is now dismantling the geth squadrons one by one. She was always so meticulous," he sneered.

Archer's strike was swift and brutal. His metal fist collided with Satima's face, sending her reeling backwards. Blood oozed from her nose and a fresh cut above her lip as she hit the ground hard. The pain was overwhelming, but she fought to remain conscious, trying to muster the strength to stand once more.

"Go to hell!", she yelled, catching her breath.

Archer's laugh echoed ominously as he waved an arm around the desolate landscape. "Welcome to it!" he declared, his voice tinged with dark amusement. The deep orange sky cast a reddish glow, with both of their dark armors reflecting glints of light from the various lava flows surrounding the area.

A sudden quake and rumble stirred their thoughts to the ground beneath them. Heat rose from fissures far off, intensifying the suffocating atmosphere. Satima raised her hand, finding her palm covered in black dirt. Ash floated in the air, catching in her throat and nose, making it hard to breathe without her helmet.

Archer knelt beside her, his eyes gleaming with malevolent intent as her face contorted in pain. "Curious how I managed to get here?" he growled, stalking around her like a predator circling its prey. "Reaper found me and stopped me from ending you. But I escaped using the sentarian's technology."

He stopped behind her, surveying the hellish planet they were on. "I'm trapped in this timeline, like you are." Archer walked in front of her, kneeling once more, "Trapped to watch the reapers win again, and see my brother turned into a toy for them", he lamented.

"Your brother?", she asked, while observing the landscape in memory.

Archer looked down, his eyes glinting with malice. He drew back his foot and delivered a powerful kick to Satima's side, the force of the blow sending her sprawled on the ground. She gasped in agony, coughing up blood from the hard impact. Archer leaned down to gloat, but she mustered her strength and spit blood defiantly in his face.

Archer wiped the blood off his face with a chilling nonchalance, his grip tightening as he seized Satima by the hair, yanking her mercilessly. Each step he took towards the cliff was deliberate, his intent malevolent.

Dragging her behind him, he brought her to the edge, where the molten lava roiled violently below, casting an infernal glow on their forms.

"Maybe a moment overlooking this beautifully destructive scenery will help you remember a few things."

He held her up by her throat over the cliff, the churning lava below casting an eerie, flickering glow on their faces. His grip was unyielding, and each struggle from Satima seemed to tighten his hold, as her feet dangled helplessly above the inferno.

Satima grunted in fear and anger, her eyes wild with desperation. The molten abyss below her seemed to beckon as the heat intensified, making her sweat profusely. "Archer... don't do this!" she pleaded, her voice strained. "You know if you kill me, The Directive will destroy you!" She stared him down, her gaze unwavering despite the terror gripping her heart.

He smirked, "Oh, they might not be thrilled by your demise, but let me assure you, your existence is hardly irreplaceable. Once the reapers claim victory, they won't hesitate to adapt. I'll forge a new army for the Directive, and HIVE will enhance your genetic imprint to create the perfect template."

Satima's fingers found the hidden blade in her boot. In one swift motion, she drove it into Archer's chest. He howled in pain, his grip loosening just enough for her to wriggle free.

With a scream, Satima tumbled toward the molten lava below. Just as she braced for impact, a rift suddenly opened beneath her.

She tumbled through, landing in a heap of rock and sand. Satima looked up, her heart racing, to see a titan of a machine—a reaper—firing its laser beam towards a small mountain cliff.

A blazing light beam sliced through the air, narrowly missing the monstrous reaper. Satima's eyes widened as she spotted the figure expertly dodging the attacks and returning fire. "SHEPARD!" she screamed, her voice echoing across the rocky terrain. Fueled by a surge of hope and determination, she sprinted towards her mother, the ground trembling beneath her with each thunderous blast.

Suddenly, Archer appeared and with a swift motion, tripped Satima, sending her hard to the ground. Satima feel hard on her face.

"You fool!" Archer spat, his voice dripping with venom. "You would have been molten ash if I hadn't rifted you from falling." He paid no heed to the reaper and Shepard battling behind them, his focus solely on Satima, who lay sprawled on the ground, her breath ragged and heart pounding.

In the background, the machine's cybernetic noise filled the air, a stark contrast to the chaos enveloping them. She could hear Shepard's desperate screams of defiance as the battle raged on. Archer knelt down beside her, his eyes blazing with malevolent glee. "Nothing you do can change this nightmare! My brother will die, and you'll live just long enough to witness Shepard reduced to genetic pulp!"

Archer delivered a powerful blow, knocking Satima down again. She attempted to pick herself up, severely injured from the onslaught. Every movement sent waves of pain through her body, but she refused to give up. Her vision blurred, and she could barely hear the sounds of Shepard's battle over her own labored breathing.

Shepard fought the machined monster behind him with an intensity to survive. She didn't give up, even when the beam got too close.
Satima painfully pulled herself up, "That's Commander Shepard… fighting.", she fell forward, groaning as she held her side. Satima looked up to him with a bloody grin. "And she's going to kick-your-ass!"

Archer lunged at her, roaring with unbridled fury. Satima narrowly sidestepped, feeling the rush of wind as his heavy blow missed her by mere inches. Desperation fueled her flight as she sprinted through the open desert. The barren landscape offered no refuge, only the relentless pursuit of her enemy. She darted past a forest of gnarled, dead trees, her feet pounding against the cracked earth, small rocks kicking up beneath her frantic steps. Each second stretched into an eternity, her heart beating a frantic, staccato rhythm against her ribcage.

A final, brilliant blast of Shepard's light beam struck the reaper with unerring precision, culminating in a cataclysmic explosion. The shockwave rippled through the air, sending both Archer and Satima sprawling across the desert floor.

The reaper fell--The ground quaked violently beneath them, cracks splintering out like spiderwebs. Satima stood, her body trembling as adrenaline coursed through her veins. She turned to catch her breath, but Archer's boot collided with her side, kicking her back to the ground. Gasping for air, she tried to rise, but her limbs felt like lead, every ounce of strength sapped from her beaten form.

He took one step towards a fallen Satima. Suddenly, a loud crack echoed through the air. Archer staggered back, a smoking, three-inch hole in his chest, revealing sparking circuitry and decayed flesh. His eyes widened in shock and rage as nanites swarmed to repair the damage, but the question loomed—who had fired the shot?

Satima crawled away from him, forcing herself to stand in defiance, "No matter how hard you try, you'll still just be a decaying organic, grasping for immortality."

Archer roared in fury, his eyes blazing with unrestrained malice. But instead of advancing, he activated his rifter and disappeared in a flash, leaving behind the echo of his defeat.

Satima fell backwards, her head spinning, body wracked with agony. She managed to turn her head just enough to see Shepard perched on the cliff's edge with Tali, gesturing urgently as if they were strategizing amidst the chaos. Geth primes loomed closer, their heavy footsteps reverberating through the ground.

Where was Legion? The thought barely formed in Satima’s mind before darkness threatened to engulf her. Her vision wavered, the edges of consciousness fraying like a worn tapestry. Every heartbeat was a drum of desperation, each breath a battle against the encroaching void.

A geth rover skidded to a halt on the sandy terrain, raising a cloud of dust. Garrus leaped out, his eyes scanning the battlefield. He caught sight of Satima and the android locked in a deadly confrontation, just as Shepard emerged victorious from her clash with the reaper. The chaos of the moment was palpable, but Garrus's presence brought a glimmer of hope.

Garrus knelt next to her, his heart pounding in his chest. His visor's IR alerted him to internal bleeding. He took her hand and squeezed it, its coldness sending a shiver down his spine. Desperation clawed at him as he saw her eyes closed, her breaths shallow and labored.

"Satima, can you hear me? Please, stay with me," Garrus's voice trembled with urgency. He could see the life draining from her, her breaths becoming more shallow with each passing moment.

He opened his omni-tool, "Shepard! Tali! I need help fast! I found Satima, she's in bad shape!"

Satima's eyes fluttered open, a fleeting moment of clarity piercing through the haze. Relief washed over her but darkness encroached once more, her vision narrowing to a tunnel as the weight of her injuries bore down on her. She forced her eyes shut, clinging to the image of her mother and the team fighting on, a flicker of hope in her heart as she teetered on the edge of unconsciousness.

Garrus tried gently shaking her, "Stay awake!" Satima didn't move. "Spirits, kid. I didn't understand.", he apologized quietly.
...........................................................................................

An hour passed in the Normandy's medbay as Dr. Chakwas worked diligently over Satima's injured form. Finally, with a deep breath, she stepped back, her face a mask of professional calm. "She'll pull through," she announced, her voice carrying a note of reassurance. "The worst effects will be bruising and sore muscles."

Garrus, standing nearby, let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, his eyes never leaving Satima as she lay on the medbay bed. The room, filled with the soft hum of medical equipment, seemed a world away from the chaotic battlefield they had just left behind.

Satima jolted awake, her heart pounding like a war drum. The medbay's soft, sterile light was a stark contrast to the chaos that still echoed in her mind. She scanned the room, half-expecting Archer to leap out from the shadows. But it was quiet—too quiet. The door slid open with a soft hiss, and Shepard walked in, sporting a healing cut above her brow. Her weary smile was a beacon of relief in the storm of Satima's anxiety.

"Glad to see you're awake," Shepard said, her voice tinged with both exhaustion and genuine warmth.

Satima sat up fully, grasping at her side from being sore. "I am too. What happened?"

Shepard leaned on the examination table. "I saved the admiral, unjammed more geth crap and fought a reaper. None of which, I couldn't do without my friends, my team.", her face soured.

"Where the hell were you, Satima? Garrus said someone was after you. He's gone now but... how did you get to Rannoch from Adas so quickly? And without Joker or even EDI detecting you?"

Satima smirked, "Would you believe me if I told you?"

Shepard gave her a side-glance, "I just killed a reaper. I think I can handle it."

Satima winced as she slowly inched off the bed, her eyes never leaving Shepard's. "I can't explain why Archer is after me. Why he attacks at every chance. He mentioned something about a brother." She paused, the pain nearly overwhelming her.

"He rifted onboard the geth fighter I was using, forcing me to land on the nearest planet," Satima's voice trembled as she spoke, her eyes darting around the room. "He...," she hesitated, her breath catching in her throat. She didn't want to continue, the memory too raw, too painful to confront.
Satima didn't notice Garrus standing to the side, she continued. "He almost killed me. It would've been all over." Maybe it should be?

Shepard gripped Satima's shoulder, her eyes narrowing. "He's dangerous, Satima," she warned, her voice low and urgent. "Going off alone like that could get you killed."

Satima gave a faint smile to Shepard's concern, but it faded quickly when she saw Garrus. She looked up at Shepard, confusion and fear mingling in her eyes. "Shepard... I... ", she started to speak, her voice trembling, but was cut off abruptly as Garrus stepped forward.

He glanced towards Shepard then looked away from Satima's gaze. "Whatever I say won't make things better between us, kid," he began, his voice filled with remorse. "You're something the galaxy has never seen before. And it scares the hell out of me. I've been a complete ass to you, lashing out because I didn't know how to handle my fear."

Garrus sighed and continued, "But the truth is, I'm sorry for the way I've treated you. You didn't deserve it. Your hybrid existence—it's extraordinary, but it's also terrifying. I was afraid, not just for myself, but for what it means for all of us. But that's no excuse for my behavior. I hope you can forgive me someday."

Satima felt a wave of emotion wash over her. Memories of the harrowing encounter with Archer flashed through her mind, the fear and pain resurfacing with every heartbeat. She tried to push them away, but the images were relentless, each one more vivid than the last. She could feel the weight of Garrus's words, the sincerity in his apology, but it was hard to reconcile the past with the present.

Her mind was a tumultuous ocean, with waves of doubt and guilt crashing against the fragile walls of her resolve. She wanted to forgive Garrus, to let go of the anger and hurt, but the scars ran deep. The hybrid existence she lived was a constant reminder of her isolation, the never-ending struggle to find her place in a galaxy that feared and misunderstood her.

As she stood there, the room seemed to close in around her, the air growing thicker with each passing moment. Her breath became shallow, her chest tightening with the weight of her emotions. She glanced at Shepard, seeking solace in her unwavering presence, but the turmoil within her was too great to be quelled by a simple look.

Satima's eyes welled with tears, the dam of her composure on the brink of breaking. She clung to the edges of her sanity, trying to keep herself from unraveling completely. The pain, the fear, the uncertainty—it all threatened to consume her.

Shepard could tell, "Are you okay, Satima?"

The girl sat up, forcing herself to ignore the searing pain of her injuries. She willed her trembling legs to stand, her breath hitching with each step she took away from the med-bay. The walls seemed closer, the lights dimmer, as she made her way to the core room.

As she walked away, her mind began to drift, dissociating from the present reality. The room seemed to blur, the voices echoing around her fading into a distant hum. She felt detached from her own body, moving through the motions without truly being there.

The recollections of Archer's assault played like a broken record, the brutality of it all mingling with the rawness of Garrus’s apology. Her mental health was fraying, the edges of her sanity unraveling with every step she took. She was there, but only in body—her mind had retreated to a place where she could numb the pain and fear, even if just for a fleeting moment.

She turned her gaze to them again, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "I've been through worse," she said, her voice wavering slightly. She gestured to Garrus. "It's good, we're good." The false reassurance hung in the air, a flimsy shield against the storm raging within her.

The door closed.

Shepard leaned on the table, her eyes narrowing as tension filled the room. "Oh, shit." she said, her voice low and unwavering.

He nodded, determination settling in his eyes. "This is my fault, and I promise you, I'll find a way to make it right," he said.

Shepard stepped forward, her expression dark and heavy. "If you can," she murmured, a note of disappointment lacing her voice.

Satima laid back in the fetal position, feeling the hot tears stream down her face. Her nightmares rushed back in full view, and all that had happened before hurt bitterly. The hybrid could feel her mind coming apart as she cried silently to herself, feeling utterly alone. She was always in fear of the future, and the memories of Archer's assault haunted her relentlessly. She wished that Garrus could be like his future self—a loving father and good friend—someone who could protect her from the darkness that enveloped her. But that future seemed so far away, and the present reality was suffocating.

Chapter Text

The Normandy left the Dholen system, its departure shrouded in a pervasive gloom. The core room radiated a somber mood that seemed to seep into every corner of the medbay, creating an atmosphere thick with unease. Satima's presence, the hybrid's solemn solitude, cast a pall over the ship, amplifying the tension that lingered in the air. The events following the downing of the reaper on Rannoch and Archer's assault weighed heavily, haunting Satima's every moment, both awake and asleep, leaving a palpable sense of dread in their wake.

Garrus’s actions weighed heavily on Satima’s shoulders. She felt, even though it was his choice and his fault for what he did; she didn’t trust herself around Shepard. Especially after the incident on the Citadel with the rifle.

The constant replay of events in her mind was tormenting. Satima's heart was gripped by an unrelenting sense of foreboding, a shadow that darkened her every thought. She felt a mixture of anger and helplessness, her emotions a turbulent sea crashing against the shores of her composure. Satima struggled with the guilt of not having foreseen the chaos that ensued, and it gnawed at her, eroding her sense of confidence.
Her solitude amplified her anguish, the silence of the Normandy a void within her. The hybrid often found herself lost in thought, grappling with the 'what ifs' and 'could-have-beens' that haunted her.

A sudden, unexpected knock echoed through the quiet, shattering the heavy silence in the room. Satima hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding as she approached the door. Slowly, she opened it, her breath catching in her throat as she came face to face with the unexpected visitor.
…………………………………………………………
During this time, Garrus found himself ensnared in a web of reflection. The weight of his actions bore down upon him, dredging up memories of his days with C-Sec, where reprimands and red tape constrained his every move. Though he had always been skilled in capturing the culprits and extracting confessions, his father’s voice echoed in the recesses of his mind, a constant reminder of the disappointment in his hasty judgements and severe measures. The tension of his past misdeeds seemed to coil tighter around him, each recollection a painful reminder of the man he had become.

In his moments of solitude, Garrus couldn't help but reflect on his first meeting with Shepard. The stark contrast between his methods and her unyielding moral compass had been a revelation. He remembered how she had challenged him, forcing him to reconsider his rigid sense of justice. Her unwavering dedication to protecting the innocent, even at the cost of the mission's expediency, had been a lesson he had never anticipated learning.

Shepard's influence had been profound. Garrus found himself evolving, his once black-and-white perception of justice gradually giving way to shades of gray. He had learned the value of empathy, of understanding the motives behind actions, and of seeking redemption rather than punishment. Shepard had shown him that every life had worth, and that sometimes, the right path was the harder one.

As he sat in quiet contemplation, Garrus felt a deep sense of gratitude for Shepard. She had not only changed his approach to his work but had also reshaped his very identity. The man he had become was a testament to her guidance, and for that, he would be eternally thankful.

Garrus adjusted himself on his cot, closing his eyes as the main battery hummed softly around him. The sound transported him back to their first date, a moment he cherished deeply. Just hours before their harrowing mission to the Collector Base, she had invited him to her cabin. They had wanted to connect on a deeper level, to explore the tender possibilities between them.

They both took Mordin’s advice to heart, researching each other’s species to ensure their union would be safe and harmonious. That evening, with anticipation and excitement, they had taken a courageous step into uncharted territory. He remembered every detail of it—the way her soft contours felt beneath his touch, the smoothness of her skin, and the warmth of her embrace. Every moment spent with her was like a beautiful symphony, each note resonating with a profound sense of belonging.

A sigh escaped his mandibles as he reflected on this, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. Shepard had become so much more than a commander to him. She was his anchor, his guide, and his heart. In those quiet moments, he realized just how deeply he loved her, and how much he was willing to fight for their future together.

This future would be cut short, not by the reapers, but by her disappointment in him. His treatment of Satima solidified an inner anger that the commander couldn't hide. She hadn’t spoken to or come by to see him in these past few days. It felt heart-wrenching, especially when he desperately needed her comfort while searching for his family. The silence was deafening, a crushing reminder of his failure. Garrus knew her anger was justified. He knew he had irrevocably messed up. And he felt a profound sadness, weighed down by the uncertainty of how to make things right, if that was even possible.

He thought for now, he was doing the right thing by giving Satima her space. She hadn’t come out of the core room, except to the women’s restroom or the mess area. Satima didn’t see Shepard either, and neither did the commander go and see her. Chockwas tried to check on the girl but was met with silence. Only EDI truly knows what’s going on in there, and Garrus is sure she would alert them if Satima was in harm's way.

Then suddenly, a chilling realization struck him. What if Satima’s silence was more than just grief? What if it masked a deeper, more perilous intent? The thought clawed at his mind, sending a shiver down his spine. His pulse quickened, and his mandibles twitched with anxiety.

Garrus knew he had to act, determination hardening in his eyes, ready to confront his apprehension and see Satima in the Normandy's core room.
With a surge of determination, Garrus bolted out of the main battery, his heart pounding like a war drum. He maneuvered through the Normandy's narrow corridors, barely acknowledging the startled crew members he brushed past. Each step echoed with urgency, his thoughts a chaotic whirlwind of fear and resolve.

He skidded to a halt outside the medbay, drawing worried glances from the staff inside. Chockwas, startled by his abrupt entrance, began to inquire if something was amiss, but Garrus's intense gaze silenced her question. Without a word, he pressed on, his destination clear in his mind.
Reaching the door to the core room, he hesitated for a fraction of a second, his mandibles twitching with anxiety. What if Satima was truly in danger? The thought propelled him forward. He rapped on the door with a sense of urgency, his pulse racing as he awaited a response.

“S-Satima!” he pounded on the door, his voice cracking under the weight of his anxiety. “Satima!” he called again, louder this time, desperation edging every syllable. “I know I’m the last person you want to see right now, but please, for the love of everything, open the door!” Garrus's heart raced, each beat thundering in his ears as he waited for any sign of response from the other side.

Sudden flashes of a mission on Omega as Archangel filled his mind. The girl, no older than nineteen, had been trafficked by a batarian gang. He had rescued her from the transport shuttle in the mining bays. His team celebrated all night at a bar, but an eerie feeling gnawed at Garrus. Something was wrong. He decided to check on her at the clinic Mordin had commandeered. Garrus imagined offering her comfort but instead found her body lifeless, stuffed in a body bag. She had endured too much, unable to cope, as the medic stated. The memory clawed at him, intensifying his urgency outside Satima's door.

Garrus pounded on the door once more, his heart pounding in tandem with his fists. The door creaked open slightly, and he found himself face-to-face with Satima.

She stood there, nonchalantly munching on a bag of dextro chips, her eyes locking onto his with an expression of mild curiosity. A crunch echoed in the silence as she popped another chip into her mouth.
"Can I help you?" she asked, her tone as casual as if nothing in the world was amiss.

Suddenly, Garrus felt an overwhelming sense of embarrassment wash over him, his mandibles twitching uncontrollably. He awkwardly glanced past Satima, noting the unmistakable sound of gunfire from a vid screen in the background. "I—uh, I was worried and wanted to check on you," he stammered, the confidence draining from his voice. "Is everything... okay?" He cringed internally, feeling the weight of his own words hang heavily in the air.

Before Satima could answer, an unmistakable voice cut through the air. "She is recovering well from her injuries," chimed in EDI, her tone as precise and reassuring as ever.

"EDI?" Garrus exclaimed, his eyes widening as he finally noticed the droid woman standing up from her seat, holding a vid pad that displayed some sort of series. The surprise in his voice was visible, adding to the charged atmosphere of the moment.

“Shepard thought it would be beneficial for me to assist Satima. Not only to familiarize her with my new form but to offer any support she required,” EDI revealed, her voice carrying an undercurrent of warmth.

Satima, still crunching on her dextro chips, swallowed to speak. "We’ve been binging this series called 'Asari, Not Sorry'. It’s about these two badass asari detectives who kick ass on Thessia. And get this, in season two, they go undercover on the Citadel!" Her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as she spoke, clearly immersed in the show's thrilling plot.

Garrus felt as if he had just fallen through a void into a different timeline. He never felt so out of place before. Not even as a cadet in the turian military. He exhaled a sigh of awkward relief, his mandibles twitching with a mix of embarrassment and comfort. “And—that is great. I’m glad you’re—okay.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to muster a reassuring smile.

Satima's smile broadened, and she gave a light-hearted nod. “Well, if there’s nothing else, we’d love to dive back into this thrilling show.” She glanced over at EDI, who responded with a slight, encouraging tilt of her head, as if inviting Garrus to join them in their relaxed viewing session.

Garrus nodded back and waved goodbye, “Oh, yeah. I got some calibrating to do anyways. Have fun, Satima.” He spoke, his voice tinged with an awkward attempt at nonchalance.

As he walked away, Chakwas couldn't help but chuckle softly. “Garrus, if you’d asked me, I would’ve told you. No one here would’ve let Satima be alone for that long without checking in. Especially Shepard. Honestly, did you really think you were the only knight in shining armor around here?”

Garrus smirked sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, you know me, always the vigilant one...or just always the awkward one, apparently.”

As he nodded, stepping outside, he rolled his eyes dramatically. Of course, Shepard wouldn’t risk Satima being alone after all she’s been through lately. Garrus muttered under his breath, “Next time, maybe I’ll just bring a fruit basket instead of my overbearing concern.”

...................................................................

In the small hours before the Normandy was to dock at the Citadel, Shepard received an urgent message from the asari councilor. Despite Liara's plea to head there quickly, Shepard knew the crew needed a good rest. And so, she decided to take a moment to breathe, allowing her team to gather their strength for the challenges ahead.

Shepard's thoughts drifted back to Satima. She had been through so much, and her recovery was a testament to her resilience. Shepard couldn't help but smile at the thought of Satima and EDI bonding over their shared love for the detective series. The idea of the two of them, lost in the drama of 'Asari, Not Sorry', brought a sense of normalcy amid the chaos.

With a renewed sense of determination, Shepard resolved to prioritize Satima for the day, ensuring she had all the support she needed. After all, uncovering the truth was a delicate process, and Satima's well-being was paramount. Besides, Shepard could always drop by Udina's old office when the time was right.

As the Normandy glided through space, Shepard felt a surge of anticipation. They were on the cusp of something significant, and she was ready to face whatever lay ahead.

Docking at the Citadel, the crew eagerly disembarked, each member dispersing into the vibrant wards, their footsteps echoing with anticipation. Satima lingered behind, her thoughts racing, until a message beeped on her omni-tool: Shepard wanted to meet at the café on the Presidium.

With a mix of curiosity and nerves, Satima quickly made her way to the Presidium Ward. The lift doors opened, revealing bustling groups of finely dressed citizens, their conversations a gentle hum against the backdrop of cascading water features. She noticed a few onlookers casting curious glances in her direction, making her cheeks flush.

As she approached Apollo Café, her eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on Shepard, who was standing casually by the counter, exuding that familiar blend of confidence and warmth. The Commander looked up and greeted her with a welcoming smile, and suddenly, the bustling café felt like the perfect place to gather her thoughts and prepare for what lay ahead.

As Satima approached, Shepard finished a conversation with a striking asari bartender in a sleek red dress, her presence commanding attention even in the bustling café. Turning around to greet Satima, Shepard's face lit up with a warm smile. "Hey, you finally made it."

Satima's brow furrowed in confusion, "Am I late for something?"

Shepard chuckled softly, shaking her head. "No, not at all. Just eager to catch up."

Satima raised an inquisitive brow. "So, what grand purpose did you have in mind for this meeting?" She jested.

Shepard stepped aside, gesturing for Satima to follow her as they moved past the entrance back to the lift. The lush greenery in the basins swayed gently in the synthetic breeze. "I just wanted us to spend some time together," Shepard began, her tone inviting and warm. "I'd like to get to know you better, and maybe we can find something delicious to eat along the way."

Satima's lips curved into a playful grin. "Free food and a walk with the legendary Commander Shepard? How could I resist?" She cast a glance back at the café's balcony, feeling excitement bubbling within her.

"Then let's order and get it to go," Shepard suggested a mischievous glint in her eye. "I've heard there's a hidden gem of a garden nearby that's perfect for a quiet chat and some people-watching."

As they meandered through the bustling crowds, their senses teased by the myriad of tantalizing aromas and vibrant colors, they finally settled on a cozy bench tucked away in a quiet corner. Satima savored the flavors of her meal, her curiosity piqued by the earlier encounter in the café. "By the way, who was that striking asari you were talking to?" she asked, her eyes gleaming with intrigue.

"Oh, that was Liara's father-mother," Shepard said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. She paused to savor a bite of her meal before continuing, "It's a bit complicated and involves some unique asari biology. Let's just say she's very important in Liara's life."

Satima chuckled, her curiosity satisfied for the moment.

After finishing their meal, Shepard and Satima strolled down to the lower wards of Zakera, where the vibe was decidedly less polished and more lively. As they walked, the bustling mid-level of the Citadel revealed a fascinating mix of citizens, all trying to cope with the looming Reaper threat in their own ways—whether through shopping, entertainment, or simply losing themselves in the crowd.

Shepard led the way to a quaint weapon shop, its shelves lined with an array of impressive mods and cutting-edge rifles. Satima's eyes sparkled with excitement as she browsed alongside Shepard, both of them taking in the array of gleaming weaponry and sophisticated gadgets on display.
"I've noticed, Satima, that your unique martial and weapon skills are still a work in progress," Shepard remarked while examining a sleek rifle mod, her tone both curious and encouraging.

Satima picked up a sleek pistol, its grey body catching the light with a metallic glint. "My training was never fully completed," she admitted, her fingers tracing the contours of the weapon. "But I had a few mercenaries show me the ropes along the way. They taught me more than a thing or two."

Shepard put the mod down, a twinkle of excitement sparking in her eyes. "How about we put your skills to the test in the Spectre weapons room?"
Satima's eyes lit up with excitement as she turned to Shepard. "Can we really?" she asked, her voice filled with anticipation.

Shepard laughed, a mischievous sparkle in her eye. "Oh, absolutely. Let's see what you've got."

As they stepped into the elevator, anticipation buzzed between them like an electric current. Shepard selected the presidium level, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. "You'll see," she said cryptically.

The elevator doors whooshed open, revealing the serene surroundings of the embassies. Satima raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled. "A secret training room in such a formal place? Interesting choice."

Shepard chuckled, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Sometimes, the best hidden spots are right under everyone's noses."

Shepard and Satima passed by many onlookers, who began to whisper amongst each other, their eyes inevitably drawn to Satima's unique hybrid appearance. Satima's unease was visible as the stares lingered, her steps faltering slightly. She couldn't help but feel the weight of their curiosity and judgment, their gazes like needles prickling her skin. Up the stairwell, Shepard ignored the stares and the earth ambassador's office, focusing on her mission to help her friend.

Shepard wanted to spend a little more time with Satima before her next mission, hoping she could get some clear answers about her friend's past and abilities. They entered with the automated VI announcing Shepard.

Shepard viewed Satima like a younger sister, and helping her break out of her shell was a personal mission. It was important to Shepard, given her own tumultuous past as an orphan on Earth. As they neared the training room, Shepard's excitement grew, eager to see what hidden talents her friend might reveal.

Satima looked around the dark blue room, curiosity etched on her face. Ahead, a dimly lit corridor stretched into the unknown. Shepard's gaze was steady as she waved Satima forward. "This way," she said with a confident nod, leading her friend deeper into the heart of the training facility.

The training room came into view through the large double-sided windows, which acted as mirrored barriers from the inside. One could observe the bustling activity from outside, but from within, the room seemed reflective, amplifying the focus required for training. It was a space of precision, lined in sleek blue and silver, the metallic walls catching and refracting light in a way that made the room feel both expansive and intimate.

Two large tables stood prominently in the center, adorned with an array of firearms, each meticulously arranged and gleaming under the bright overhead lights. Off to one side, a smaller table held stacks of thermal clips and ammunition refills, ready to be used at a moment's notice.

Opposite Shepard and Satima, a long hall stretched out with targets clipped to the ceiling, swaying slightly as if beckoning to be challenged. Shepard demonstrated how the targets could be manipulated with simple commands at the console, adjusting distances and angles to simulate various combat scenarios.

The intensity of the lighting bathed the room in a stark, almost clinical brightness, ensuring that every detail was visible, every movement precise. It was a place where skills were honed, where the line between success and failure was razor-thin, and where the hidden depths of one's abilities could be discovered and mastered.

With a practiced motion, Shepard picked out a standard issue pistol and handed it to Satima, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Try this one," she suggested, her voice full of encouragement.

Satima took the pistol in hand, feeling its weight and balance. She examined the weapon with a critical eye before looking up at Shepard. "My pistol is better. Why use this?" she asked, a hint of curiosity mingling with her skepticism.

Shepard set up the range, adjusting the targets at varying distances. Her eyes sparkled with determination as she turned to Satima, a hint of challenge in her gaze. "Mastering the basics is how you transform into an expert marksman. These weapons are designed for skilled hands, and I know you have it in you," she said, her voice filled with conviction.

Shepard leaned against the weapon workstation, arms crossed confidently. "You've got the capability, Satima, but you're missing the stability that comes with proper training. That's why you’ve had so many close calls, and I bet there were plenty more before we met. Am I right?" Shepard's words were a mix of encouragement and tough love, aiming to ignite the fire within Satima.

Satima's sigh was heavy with the weight of past scars. Memories of the brutal training sessions under Reaper's merciless gaze flashed before her eyes. She had endured isolation, grueling punishments, and savage brawls with directive soldiers and other children. Each fight was a test of survival, pushing her to her limits. The recollection made her eyes narrow with determination as she shook off the haunting visions.

With a steely resolve, she slapped a thermal clip into the pistol, "Yeah, you are." She began firing at the closest target, effectively putting a hole through its head.

The second target had a hole in through the eye. Satima became antsy, annoyed. She quickly fired three shots at the third, putting holes in random places.

None of which would stop a cannibal, husk or even someone like Archer. She felt anger welling as she screwed up the last one. Farther away from the rest, she put one hole in its lower torso. Shepard noticed how Satima's gun hand would shake, making it hard to aim steadily.

She yelled, throwing the pistol down while pacing and fuming at the targets.

Shepard noticed Satima’s hand shaking as she handled the weapon. A flicker of worry crossed her mind, a concern for the unseen trauma that might be gnawing away at Satima. Shepard’s eyes hardened with resolve. She thought, "there’s something deeper here, something that's affecting her focus. I have to help her overcome this if she's to become the fighter I know she can be." The tension in the room grew as Shepard silently vowed to uncover the root of Satima's struggles.

Shepard picked up the discarded pistol, her eyes locking with Satima's as she extended it back to her. "Again," she commanded, her voice steady but firm, like a rock in a storm.

Satima snatched the weapon from Shepard's hand, her eyes blazing with a defiant fire. "Why? You saw how I'm no good!" Her voice trembled with a mix of frustration and desperation, as if challenging Shepard to prove her wrong.

Shepard cut her off, her hand slicing through the air. "Recklessness and poor judgment are not signs of failure, Satima. But this anger... it clouds your vision, distorts your aim. You can't afford that kind of distraction on the battlefield."
Satima backed away a few steps, her face a mask of conflicted emotions. The commander advanced slowly, her gaze intense and unyielding. "I brought you here for a reason, Satima. There's something between us, a connection that I can't ignore," Shepard said, her voice carrying an edge of determination and urgency.

Satima sat on the bench, her head bowed, shadows of anguish playing across her face. She felt the weight of unspoken words pressing down on her, threatening to crush her spirit. It was an unbearable torment to keep this darkness bottled up inside.

The commander sat next to her, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. "I'm here if you need to talk. Whenever you're ready," she murmured, her voice a quiet beacon in the gathering gloom. Satima felt the weight of the commander's words, a solemn promise of support amidst her storm of emotions.

Satima looked at her, a sudden wash of pain transforming her expression. Tears began to stream down her face uncontrollably. "I'm afraid if I tell you anything, you'll hate me. You'll reject me for who I truly am."

Shepard shifted uneasily on the bench next to Satima, her thoughts a storm of conflicting emotions. “Why would I reject you?” she asked, her voice tinged with a mix of confusion and concern. The atmosphere between them felt charged, altering drastically from a moment ago when Shepard had been ready to mentor this unique hybrid of human and turian. Now, she felt both a protector and an investigator, teetering on the edge of understanding and apprehension.

Feelings of frustration, protectiveness, and curiosity clashed within her, making it hard to stay composed. She had thought of herself as a big sister, ready to guide this young warrior, but now she wondered if she was truly prepared for what lay beneath Satima's exterior.

Satima sighed heavily, wiping the tears with the sleeve of the Normandy uniform she was allowed to borrow. Her gaze shifted to the entrance of the training room, the weight of her secret almost unbearable. "I am human and turian," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "I was created, not born. I didn't have an infancy, instead, I was awakened in my early years—too small and too human for the Reapers. They made me this way." She exhaled shakily, her breath a mix of fear and relief. "That's all I can say right now."

Shepard's gaze shifted, her eyes scanning the room as she processed Satima's revelation. The weight of what was said hung heavily in the air, a shroud of secrecy and fear. She placed a firm hand on Satima’s shoulder, her grip a lifeline amidst the storm. “No one will know what you’ve told me until you’re ready,” Shepard vowed, her voice holding a grave promise. She turned to look directly at Satima, her eyes reflecting unwavering resolve. “I don’t reject you for what you are; I accept you as you are. There’s nothing bad or wrong about you, Satima.” Her smile was gentle, yet somber, a delicate balance of reassurance and determination.

Satima's shoulders trembled, her emotions raw and exposed. With a tentative embrace, she clung to the commander, seeking comfort amidst her inner turmoil. Shepard, though taken aback, wrapped her arms around the young hybrid, offering a silent promise of support. The weight of their shared resolve hung in the air, a delicate balance of sorrow and strength.

Their outing culminated in Satima's return to the Normandy, leaving Shepard behind to face the asari councilor. The gravity of their shared secret weighed heavily on their minds, but it also forged an unspoken bond of trust and resilience.

The hybrid walked quietly inside the large stealth ship, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. As she passed the CIC, nearly reaching the elevator, Traynor intercepted her path. "Javik wants to see you," she said with a knowing look.

Satima nodded, her heart pounding with a mix of curiosity and apprehension as she stepped inside the elevator to the engineering deck. She wondered what the ancient Prothean wanted.

Javik's room was dimly lit, casting long shadows that danced across the walls as Satima entered. "You wanted to see me?" she inquired, trying to steady her voice despite the nervous flutter in her chest.

Javik turned, finishing the meticulous washing of his hands, a ritual that seemed to consume his thoughts. "Yes, I have questions," he responded, his voice carrying an air of ancient authority. He gestured to a chair in the corner, its presence both inviting and intimidating.

Satima took a seat, her curiosity piqued and her apprehension mounting. She watched as the Prothean moved with deliberate slowness, his gaze never leaving her.

"Have you told the Commander about your bloodline?" Javik's question hung in the air, heavy with implication.

Satima shook her head, the weight of her secret pressing down harder.

Javik began to pace, his steps echoing in the quiet room. "Whether you want it to or not, the truth will come out. It is best you tell the Commander now, while you still can. She will not take it calmly from another." His words were a stern warning, filled with the wisdom of millennia.

Satima looked up at him, her eyes blazing with a mixture of defiance and fear. "I've tried, Javik, but the words choke in my throat. Do you really think she'll be okay when she hears the truth?" Her voice trembled, but she pressed on, mocking the conversation that haunted her thoughts. "Hey, Shepard, guess what? I'm your genetically engineered daughter, but don't worry, you don't have to raise me because an evil alternate version of you already did! Oh, and by the way, the Reapers are here to annihilate the galaxy, but we can stop them because I come from the future!"

She finished, crossing her arms, a storm of emotions surging within her.
Javik met her gaze with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. "It would be a start," he said, his lips curling into a knowing grin.

Shepard returned aboard the Normandy, her steps purposeful and her expression determined. Orders were swiftly issued to her crew on the Citadel, commanding an immediate return. Within thirty minutes, the ship hummed with renewed activity as everyone reported back, ready for the next phase of their mission.

The Artifact, as the asari councilor called it, could be the key to defeating the Reapers. If Satima has any knowledge that combines with this, they could finally stop the harvest and the cycles, for good.
.............................................................................................

Athena Nebula / Parnitha System
Thessia

Shepard leaned over the galaxy map, her mind racing with strategies and contingencies. The quiet hum of the Normandy was suddenly shattered by Joker's urgent voice breaking through her thoughts.

"Commander, Reapers are swarming Thessia!" Joker's voice crackled with urgency. Shepard's heart pounded as she sprinted to the cockpit. Joker's fingers flew over the controls, his expression grim. "We've got hostile activity all over the planet."

Liara bolted from the war room, her face pale with worry at Joker's news. Shepard's stride quickened, her voice cutting through the tension. "What about the temple? Can you reach the scientists?"

"Negative. All channels are scrambled across the spectrum," Joker muttered, his fingers flying across the panel. The displays flickered with images of the planet and a sea of hostile forces.

Shepard stepped behind Joker, watching him navigate around the display. "The mission's looking really dicey.", he said.

"This is too important. It's now or never," Shepard growled, her eyes boring into Joker's. The gravity of the situation pressed down on them, the weight of the upcoming battle against the Reapers suffocating. Joker swallowed hard, feeling the tension coil within him like a spring ready to snap.

Liara burst into the cockpit, her finger stabbing at the planet's display. "Shepard, that's my home down there. I need to be there," she exclaimed, her voice edged with desperation.

Shepard's eyes locked onto Liara's, the urgency in her gaze unmistakable. "Then get to the shuttle, and let's do this," she commanded, adrenaline surging through her veins.

An hour had crawled by since the shuttle had departed from the Normandy's hangar bay, leaving behind an air thick with anticipation and anxiety.

Satima waited in anticipation with everyone else.

Shepard made the tough call to leave Garrus behind for this mission, and though he respected her decision, the look in his eyes betrayed his frustration. He paced restlessly in his quarters, alternating between staring at the galaxy map and gulping down cups of dextro coffee, each sip more bitter than the last.

Satima offered to help in the battery, but Garrus dismissed her with a grim smile, saying, "It didn't need working on." His mind was elsewhere, consumed by the thought of Shepard. He cared deeply about Shepard, even before she took on the impossible burden of fighting the Reapers.
Satima did odd jobs here and there, her mind a whirl of thoughts. She couldn't help but ask EDI about the mission's true objective. "Shepard is meeting a science team near the temple of Athame to acquire a vital artifact. This artifact will guide us to the catalyst and complete the Crucible," EDI replied, her mechanical fingers dancing over the holo panel.

Joker, ever the eavesdropper, was listening intently. "So, we're essentially betting everything on this one shot?" he muttered, half to himself.
The atmosphere in the cockpit was electric, charged with the tension of the unfolding mission. They all knew the stakes—they were fighting for the survival of the galaxy. As the minutes ticked by, the gravity of their situation settled heavily on their shoulders, each passing second a reminder of the looming battle against the Reapers.

Satima's curiosity got the better of her, and she turned to EDI once more. "What exactly does this artifact do?"

EDI paused, her synthetic eyes glinting. "It is said to hold the key to activating the Crucible, a weapon of unimaginable power. The specifics remain a mystery, but its potential is our best hope for victory."

Joker's fingers flew across the control panel, his expression a mix of determination and concern. "Let's hope Shepard and the team can pull this off."

EDI resumed explaining the artifact, her voice tinged with a note of intrigue. "I have numerous theories about its nature. Would you like to hear them all?" she asked, her synthetic eyes gleaming with curiosity.

Satima nodded, her pulse quickening with the gravity of the situation. Before she could delve deeper into EDI's theories, Joker's voice cut through the air like a knife. "I've got a message from the Commander—evacuate immediately!" he barked, his fingers already dancing across the controls. "I knew this mission was going to be bad," he muttered under his breath, every muscle in his body tense with urgency as he readied the Normandy for a swift escape.

Shepard, Liara, and Javik returned to the cargo bay, their faces grim and eyes hollow. The team exited the shuttle with a visible tension hanging in the air. Liara looked like she was on the brink of a breakdown and quickly vanished into the elevator.

Javik scanned the dimly lit cargo bay, a heavy silence settling over him as Shepard removed her gear with meticulous care. Her motions were slow, almost mechanical, as she placed her weapons back in their designated spots without a second glance, the weight of their failure hanging heavily in the air.

Satima trailed after Javik as he walked away, his footsteps echoing the heavy silence of the Normandy's corridors. They both stood in the elevator, the weight of failure pressing down on them like an unspoken curse. When they reached deck four, Javik moved to his quarters, where the memories of past battles seemed to cling to the walls like specters.

Satima followed, her voice barely above a whisper, laden with worry. "What happened?" she asked, the shadows of doubt and fear flickering in her eyes.

Javik closed his eyes, "We failed."

The hybrid looked at him in surprise. "What?!"

Javik's gaze turned steely as he looked at her. "Cerberus was there, waiting for us. They ambushed us, and their assassin, Kai Leng, nearly killed Shepard. He spoke for the Illusive Man, taunting us with every move."

Satima's heart sank. She should have been there, yet Shepard insisted she needed more training, more guidance. Could she have made a difference? "Im’ so sorry.," she whispered, her voice trembling.

Javik sighed deeply, the weight of centuries of anguish heavy in his voice. "Spare me your sympathies. Save it for the asari. I've already lost everything I cared for fifty-thousand years ago."

Satima ventured off deck four, her heart heavy with the weight of their defeat. She needed to find Shepard. EDI's voice echoed in the hall, confirming Shepard had gone to the war room. With determined steps, she quietly made her way through the Normandy's corridors, each step reverberating with the tension of their recent failure.

As she approached the war room, she caught a glimpse of Shepard ascending the steps to the quantum entanglement room, where a message awaited her. Satima's breath hitched, sensing the gravity of the situation about to unfold.

Shepard leaned on the wall, watching the panel glow and beep. It was the asari councilor. The weight of the upcoming conversation pressed down on her, heavy and unforgiving. She didn't want to tell her that she had failed. That Cerberus had won, taking the Prothean AI and nearly killing them in the process. The bitter taste of defeat lingered in her mouth, and as the panel activated, the gravity of their loss settled like a dark cloud in her mind.

Kai Leng had gained the upper hand once more, and the bitter sting of defeat gnawed at Shepard's core. With a heavy sigh, she pressed the panel. The weight of the recent losses bore down on her, each breath a reminder of the gravity of their situation. As the panel flickered to life, Shepard's gaze hardened, but the pain in her eyes was unmistakable. The asari councilor's image appeared on the screen, her presence a stark reminder of the stakes they faced.

"Commander Shepard, is that you?", her image becoming distorted. "Commander?"

"Councilor, the mission-", Shepard's words trailed off.

"We've lost all contact with Thessia... the planet has gone dark.", the councilor looked at Shepard in concern. "How soon will the Crucible be ready to deploy?"

Shepard slowly looked up, "I wish the news were better. We didn't get the information."

The asari councilor stepped forward, her voice trembling with barely contained anxiety, "What happened?"

"Cerberus was there. We were... We were defeated. We don't know how to finish the Crucible.", Shepard glanced down, her head hung low. She looked beaten.

The councilor covered her face in anguish, "I... don't know what to say. What was the situation on Thessia?"

Shepard looked up from leaning over the console, "Deteriorating fast. The Reapers are there in strength."

The asari councilor almost tripped backwards hearing that sentence. She wiped her forehead from an anxious sweat. "Then you'll excuse me. There are preparations to make, continuity of civilization to consider. I never thought this day would come."

"None of us did, I'm... ", Shepard tried to sympathize, but the councilor already turned off her end."...sorry...", she whispered.

Satima gasped quietly, her heart pounding in her chest. She dared not let Shepard hear her breath hitch. The weight of Shepard's apology hung heavily in the air, each word dripping with an uncharacteristic despair. To witness the indomitable commander so broken, so utterly defeated, was a chilling reminder of the gravity of their situation. It was as if the Reapers had shattered Shepard's resolve first, leaving a frightening void in their place.

Satima gathered around the war console with the rest of the crew. Shepard stomped down the steps, tension radiating off her in waves. The air was thick with anticipation and anxiety, each breath felt heavier, each movement more deliberate.

"Asari forces are in full retreat. It is no longer safe for us to remain in this system.", EDI paced in front of Shepard.

"Get us out of here.", the commander glared.

Liara leaned over the console, her feelings of loss weighing heavily in her mind and heart. "Shepard... I -Nobody could've predicted Cerberus would reach Thessia before us."

Shepard watched Liara turn away, her expression a mix of sorrow and frustration. "It's my job to be ready for anything, but now Thessia's gone, and with it, the data on the Catalyst." Shepard's fist clenched on the console. "I'm sick of Cerberus beating us to the punch."

James stood straight, clenching his fists in determination. "Let's kick'em in the balls first for a change!"

A murmur of agreement rippled through the group, and Satima nodded resolutely.

Shepard turned off the console's holographic display. "I'm with James. Anyone know where they're hiding?" She was met with confused stares. "Anyone?"

EDI stared at Traynor who eyed her back in a nervous gesture. She started to wring her hands, "Um... Well, there is something."

"Let's hear it, Traynor." Shepard looked slightly annoyed but relieved.

Traynor stepped forward, her fingers dancing across the console as she pulled up a new set of coordinates. "I was able to track Kai Leng's shuttle through the relay and deduced his likely destination."

The crew leaned in closer, the tension evident as the fate of their mission hung in the balance.

Everyone watched intently as the display of the galaxy map flickered to life, the faint glow of a small round light darting from system to system with a sense of urgency. Conversations hushed, and eyes followed the light's every move. Finally, it came to a halt, hovering not too far off in the mysterious terminus systems.

"It's not just gone, though. The signal is being actively blocked.", Traynor finished.

"How?", Shepard asked.

"I'm not sure, but something is interfering with all signal activity in that region of space.", Traynor stared at them all.

EDI turned to Shepard, "Commander, the Lera system is home to Sanctuary and little else. Sanctuary is a supposed safe haven for war refugees."

Shepard glanced back to Traynor, "You think it's worth checking out, Traynor?"

Traynor nodded, "Yes ma'am. I do."

"If Specialist Traynor hadn't examined the data so astutely, the interference would've been undetectable.", EDI complimented.

The commander agreed, "Nice work, Traynor. You've given us a shot. Now let's make sure we don't waste it."

Shepard started to walk out before Ashley gave her own opinion in this new mission. "I was stationed on Horizon in the Lera system. You were the only Cerberus presence while I was there.", she said.

Liara backed away from the console, free from her previous thoughts. "It's a slim lead. Let's hope it's the right one."

Shepard stopped to reassure the crew and her Command, "I don't care how slim the leads are at this point. We've come too far to let Cerberus stop us. I want that prothean data. I want the Catalyst. No excuses. Dismissed."

The crew started to disperse, but Satima lingered, her eyes fixed on Shepard, who was already striding purposefully towards the communications room. Traynor's voice crackled over the intercom, tension evident in her tone, "Commander, Anderson is on vid-comm and it's urgent."

Shepard didn't break her stride, her voice low and resolute, "I'm busy right now, but tell him I'll get back to him as soon as possible."

Satima approached Shepard with a heavy heart, "About Thessia... I'm truly sorry." The commander halted, shoulders tense, but did not turn to face her.

"I didn't know you were a part of Cerberus," Satima said, almost stumbling in her haste to keep up with Shepard. "Garrus and Tali mentioned something about a Lazarus project…"

Shepard halted abruptly, her gaze turning icy. "And what of it?" she demanded, her voice like a blade sharpened on stone. "What do you really want to know, Satima? What are you hoping to uncover with these questions?"

Satima took a step back, her resolve faltering under Shepard's intense stare. "I just... I wanted to understand. To help," she stammered.
Shepard's eyes narrowed, her frustration palpable. "Understand? Help? You think dredging up the past helps? We have bigger threats to face than my history with Cerberus. Focus on the mission, or get out of my way."
Before Satima could respond, Shepard whirled around, her eyes blazing with anger. "Why are you here?"

Satima looked confused. With a somber tone, she finally spoke, "I don't know.”

Shepard's eyes blazed with intensity. "No, really. Why are you here? You follow me like a shadow, always questioning my authority, jeopardizing everything we've fought for." Her voice was a low growl as she took a step closer to Satima. "You think you can help with the Reapers? You're a liability—an emotional wreck. Why are you still on my ship?" Shepard's words cut like knives, each one aimed to wound, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

Satima's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, her voice dropping to a somber whisper. "I thought..."

Shepard's eyes burned with a fiery intensity as she cut Satima off abruptly. "You thought... what? That you could console me? I've seen horrors in this galaxy that you can't even begin to comprehend. You have nothing to offer but distractions and weakness." Her voice was razor-sharp, laden with scorn. "I'm sick of having to babysit you. If you want to go and get yourself killed, fine! But right now, get the hell out of my sight!" Shepard's glare was a storm of fury as she turned and stormed up the stairwell.

Satima backed away, feeling a sharp pain in her chest. It wasn't fair. It wasn't her fault Shepard lost Thessia. Tears threatened to spill as the weight of Shepard's scorn bore down on her. She doesn't know how to help, that's true, but she could still try.

Satima leaned over the war display table, her knuckles white from the force of her grip. A storm of anger ignited within her, burning away the remnants of self-doubt. Her eyes narrowed into slits as she cast a defiant glance toward the vid-comm room. If Shepard wanted her gone, then so be it. But she wasn't going to slink away in shame. No, she would face the Reapers head-on, and if they all perished, then Shepard would have to witness every moment of it, every sacrifice. They could all die together while the Reapers remade the galaxy into their twisted image.

A short time had gone by while Satima paced in the core room, her heart pounding like a war drum. The anger that had flared earlier cooled slightly but left behind a smoldering resolve. Shepard’s words had been a punch to the gut, but the sting of truth lingered. She had been nothing but a thorn in Shepard's side from the start.

The door slid open abruptly, and Garrus strode in with a determined look. "I heard you and Shepard had quite the confrontation."

Satima scoffed, her voice tinged with bitterness. "More than a confrontation, she practically called me out. She's right though. I can't help you or stop the Reapers." Her fingers fumbled with a small metal cube, the only sound in the tense silence of her compartment.

Garrus stepped closer, his expression grave as he leaned on the cold machinery behind him. "Shepard was upset, you have to understand the immense weight on her shoulders right now. Losing Thessia meant she lost the war already. Her hope for winning is fading fast." His voice was low, each word laden with the tension and sorrow that had been building within him.

"Don't think you're special. She and I have clashed more times than I can count," he reminded with a wry smile.

Satima's gaze lingered on Garrus, curiosity sparking in her eyes. She let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. "You know, Garrus," she started softly, "I've always wondered—how did you and Shepard cross paths in the first place?"

Garrus was momentarily taken aback by the question. "A couple of years ago, on the Citadel. I was with C-Sec back then," he began, his voice carrying a hint of nostalgia and pride.

"What happened exactly?" she questioned, her curiosity piqued.

Garrus leaned on his leg, his gaze distant as he began to recount his story. "It was a chaotic time on the Citadel. I was with C-Sec, investigating a tip about Saren's activities. You see, Saren was a rogue Spectre, a Turian like myself, but twisted by his own ambitions and the influence of the Reapers. I was frustrated with the bureaucracy and red tape that kept me from taking action."

He paused, a flicker of nostalgia in his eyes. "Then, I met Shepard. She were different, a human Spectre who wasn't afraid to break a few rules to get things done. We teamed up, and it wasn't long before we were thrust into a mission that would shape the fate of the galaxy."

Satima listened intently, her eyes never leaving his face. Garrus continued, "We chased Saren across the galaxy, from the sandy dunes of Feros to the lush jungles of Virmire. The Geth were relentless, machines programmed to follow Saren's every command. But Shepard... Shepard never wavered. Their determination was something to behold."

He swallowed hard, the memories clearly weighing on him. "And then there was Sovereign, the Reaper behind it all. An ancient machine bent on the annihilation of all organic life. The final battle on the Citadel was a nightmare. The Geth swarmed everywhere, and Sovereign was destroying everything in its path. But Shepard, with the crew of the Normandy, managed to stop it. We fought side by side, and in the end, we prevailed."

Garrus's voice softened as he came to the end of this story, "Shepard's leadership and bravery saved us all. It was then that I realized the true extent of what we were up against. And it was also the moment I knew I'd follow Shepard into any battle, no matter the cost."

As he finished recounting the memories, the weight of their past adventures hung heavily in the air. The room seemed to grow colder.

Garrus started to leave, the shadows of old wounds tracing his every step, when Satima's voice broke the silence once more. "Did you love her then? When you first met?"

Garrus paused, his back still turned to her. The question lingered, echoing the unspoken emotions and buried feelings. Slowly, he glanced back, his eyes reflecting the gravity of the years gone by. "Yes."

Chapter Text

As the Normandy cut through the cold expanse of space, Shepard couldn't shake the frustration.

She wasn't in the mood for sympathy. The bitterness gnawed at her, making her pace the confined space of the Normandy. Satima's attempt to talk it out only heightened her irritation. How could anyone truly grasp the weight of such a crushing defeat delivered by an enemy so relentless, so devoid of mercy?

Shepard initiated a vid-com link with Admiral Anderson, her fingers tapping the panel with a mixture of urgency and anger.

The screen flickered to life, revealing Anderson's weathered, reassuring face. But Shepard wasn't looking for comfort - she needed answers, a way to turn the tide. Her mind raced with thoughts of Thessia's fall, the weight of responsibility pressing heavily on her shoulders.

"Anderson," Shepard began, her voice barely concealing the turmoil within, "we were so close, so damned close to ending this war."

The Admiral raised an eyebrow, his expression a blend of empathy and resolve. "You didn't think it'd be that easy, did you?"

Shepard shook her head, frustration evident in her movements. "I knew there wouldn't be a minute of this that was easy. But watching Thessia fall and knowing it was my responsibility..." Her voice trailed off as she turned away, feeling the weight of the loss.

Anderson leaned forward, his tone turning both stern and comforting. "Shepard, do you know how many times I've faced defeat? Surviving the First Contact War was a miracle. They called me a hero, but I just felt lucky to be alive." He pointed to an unseen figure, as if conjuring memories of past battles. "So maybe Kai Leng did beat you. What of it?"

"It could cost us the war," Shepard countered, her voice filled with a mixture of fear and determination.

Anderson chuckled, a sound that was both weary and encouraging. "These guys in the resistance, they know the odds. They know the chances of seeing tomorrow are slim to none. But they signed up anyway. Hell, I'm sitting in London right now, staring at rubble. This is my home, and it's looking like it might be where I die."

He took a step closer, his gaze unwavering. "So I say, point us at the Reapers, and we'll take our chances."

Shepard closed her eyes, feeling a wave of shame for her earlier despair. She thought of the countless fighters on Earth and beyond, struggling for survival. When she opened her eyes, there was a newfound determination.

"You'll make it, Anderson. And when this is all over," she said, a hint of a smile playing on her lips, "you can show me London."

Anderson laughed, the sound a rare but welcome break in the tension. "It might need a new coat of paint first."

Shepard let out a soft, determined chuckle as she approached the console, her fingers dancing over the controls. "We've come too far to let this slip away. We'll see this through to the end."

Anderson rubbed his shoulder, the weight of countless battles evident in his posture. He offered her a weary but encouraging smile. "It better. Shake this off, Shepard."

"I will.", she replied with a weary smile.

As Anderson's form began to fade, Shepard took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words settle in her mind. Refocusing her resolve, she understood that hope still lingered. Thanks to Anderson, she knew they had a fighting chance.

Shepard exited the war room, her mind racing with thoughts of the battle ahead. As she stepped into the corridor, she nearly collided with Garrus, who seemed to be on a determined path toward her.

"Garrus, what's going on?" she asked, curiosity and concern mingling in her tone.

He pulled her to the side, his expression serious. "I need to talk to you. Well, actually, Satima needs to talk."

Shepard nodded, her gaze momentarily distant. "Yeah. I need to say something to her as well. Tell Satima I'll meet her during my rounds."

Garrus's smile was fleeting, replaced quickly by a determined look. "I will." He reached out, grasping Shepard's arm firmly, his eyes searching hers. The dim glow from the galaxy map cast a somber light over them.

"What's wrong?" Shepard asked, her curiosity tinged with unmistakable concern.

His gaze pierced hers for a moment. "Are you alright? You seem... troubled." He squeezed her arm gently, his concern evident in his eyes.

Shepard smiled wearily at him, "Yes. I had a talk with Anderson." Garrus moved his taloned hand down from her arm to hold her human one. He squeezed gently, his touch lingering as if trying to impart strength through the brief connection. For a fleeting moment, their fingers intertwined, a silent promise shared between them before the demands of duty pulled them apart.

Most of the crew gave them a respectful distance, knowingly averting their gazes but not without a hint of amusement in their eyes. Traynor, noticing the exchange, couldn't suppress a warm smile. The crew had long suspected the bond between Shepard and Garrus, their subtle glances and stolen moments affirming what many already believed—they were more than just comrades in arms.

Despite this, everyone on board understood the importance of maintaining professionalism. The Normandy was, above all, a warship in the midst of a galaxy-wide conflict, and every member of the crew respected the unspoken boundary between personal feelings and duty.

Garrus let go of Shepard's hand, his talons lingering for a fraction of a second longer before he stepped back towards the elevator. His usually stoic expression softened as he looked at her, a silent promise of support and loyalty.

Shepard continued past the CIC, her gaze sharp and determined. She exchanged a few quick words with Traynor, who handed her a data pad. Shepard’s eyes narrowed as she read the threatening message from Kai Leng. "Lack the strength..." she muttered under her breath, turning it off with a decisive flick. No more negative thinking.

Shepard strode purposefully to the cockpit. Joker was absorbed in the glow of the holo panels, running diagnostics.

"So, Thessia, huh?" he quipped, glancing up with a smirk. "Guess the asari are wishing they had fewer dancers and more commandos right about now."

The comment stung a bit. He turned fully to face her, eyebrows raised in mock innocence. "Too soon?"

She glared at him, her voice edged with frustration, "In case you hadn't noticed, we just lost a few million people. This isn't the time."

Joker absorbed her sentence, then quickly whisked holo panels to the side until he found what he wanted—a planet with a small moon, much like Earth.

His demeanor shifted as he leaned forward, "You see this? Tiptree. Little colony out in the ass-end of nowhere. My dad lives there. So does my sister." He pressed a button, and ominous images of Reapers appeared, casting dark shadows over the planet. "Reapers rolled in about two weeks ago." He turned off the screen with a grim finality.

"So, you can assume that I'm painfully aware there's a war raging, Commander," he finished, his voice edged with a rare intensity.
Shepard scoffed as she turned away, then spun back sharply, eyes blazing. "So why the jokes?"

Joker swerved around in his chair quickly, his tone more urgent now. "Because EDI says that according to your armor's metabolic scans, you're under more stress now than during the Skyllian Blitz. Like, more than Elysium, where it was pretty much you versus 10,000 batarians trying to kill you." His eyes flicked with a mix of frustration and concern. "And the last time I had a briefing with Anderson, he told me to take care of you, Shepard. That's a direct order."

Joker gestured around him with a sardonic smile, , "The guy leading the resistance-on Earth! -is worried about you. And I'm supposed to help."
Shepard listened, staring at him. "I appreciate the thought, Joker, but I'm fine."

"The hell you are. You're like a half robot at this point. No offense, EDI. And it's my fault." Joker's voice wavered, his usual bravado cracking. "When the collectors blew up the Normandy, you died because I wouldn't leave... because you had to come back for me." His eyes dropped, filled with guilt and worry.

"Couldn't leave the best pilot in the fleet behind, could I?", Shepard shrugged.

"Yeah, well... I guess that would've looked bad on your report.", he turned around in his chair.

Shepard shook her head, "Come on. We've got work to do."

Shepard moved closer to EDI, her mind still racing from the weight of her conversation with Joker. EDI, ever curious, attempted to probe into the intricacies of human behavior. Shepard, however, wasn't in the mood for philosophical discussions. "EDI, pick a better time for this," she said, her tone firm but not unkind.

EDI, undeterred, tried to lighten the mood with a joke. Shepard's eyes narrowed, and she replied curtly, "I'm not in the mood." EDI, understanding the gravity of the situation, promised to maintain a respectful silence.

Shepard continued her rounds on the ship, her mind buzzing with the weight of her responsibilities. Each crew member she interacted with offered words of encouragement, but Shepard couldn't shake the feeling that she wasn't worthy of their faith. Doubts and determination intermingled as she moved, her thoughts a turbulent sea.

She wanders, her thoughts a swirling tempest. Deciding to seek clarity, she makes her way to visit Garrus. Inside the main battery, she finds him hunched over a console, intently focused on the terminal screen. The atmosphere is heavy with unspoken words and shared burdens.

Shepard could sense the weight of Garrus's unease. His usual calm and collected demeanor was replaced with a tension that made her heart tighten. She stepped closer, her voice soft but firm. "What's wrong, Garrus?"

Garrus turns around hearing her voice, "I just had to make a tough call with the primarch." He faces the screen again, leaning over the console. "He said our fleets are being decimated. So, I advised him to cease all offensive operations against the Reapers."

Shepard leaned in next to him, observing the screens images. "A full retreat?"

"The only way to save Palaven now is to hold our ships back for the Crucible. But if I'm wrong... then a lot of other turian families won't be as lucky as mine.", he looked on the screen, solemn.

"That's a hell of a gamble. No other options?", Shepard asked again, facing him.

Garrus glanced down, "If there are, I can't see them. It all comes down to the Crucible now."

Shepard looked away from him, her voice barely a whisper, "And 'ruthless calculus.'"

Garrus sighed heavily, the weight of their predicament etched into his features. He turned to Shepard, who remained fixated on the screen, lost in the grim reality they faced.

For some time, he longed to kiss her, hold her close. But she's still the Commander, and he knows they must be professional at times. Even in front of close friends. "How are you holding up, Shepard? This all has to be taking a toll."

Shepard didn't take her eyes off the images on the screen, counting the number of enemy ships versus ally. "There's only so much fight in a person, only so much death you can take before..."

Garrus cut in, "Before a certain turian with no romantic skills to speak of tries to cheer you up." He finally puts his arm around her waist. She backs away from the console, leaning in his touch, smiling at him.
"Cheer? Coming from you?", she smirks.

"Mood swings.", Garrus shrugs. "Don't worry. We'll get through this. We always do." He leans in and kisses her cheek. Shepard blushes from it.

If only they had the time. They stayed that way, holding each other for a few more precious moments, as if the universe outside had paused in deference to their embrace. Garrus’s heart raced with a mixture of anxiety and profound affection, his fingers tracing gentle circles on Shepard’s back. She leaned into him, savoring the rare comfort amidst the chaos, her own heart echoing the rhythm of a love that had been forged in the fires of war. Unbeknownst to them, a certain someone was watching from the shadows, a smile playing on her lips at the tender scene unfolding before her eyes.

Satima crouched in the ventilation ducts, her breath barely audible. She had been on a mission to locate her elusive VI, a small floating cube that had a knack for disappearing at the most inconvenient times. Her search had led her to this spot, where she couldn't help but overhear the heartfelt exchange between Shepard and Garrus.

Intrigued, she decided to linger a bit longer, watching the tender moment unfold between the two warriors. As she observed, a warm smile spread across her face. She could feel the depth of their bond, a rare beacon of hope and love amidst the relentless chaos of their lives.

Satisfied that her presence remained undetected, Satima silently retreated, making her way back to the core room where she would wait for Shepard. Her heart felt a bit lighter, knowing that even in the darkest times, there were still moments of light and connection.

The Commander left to find Liara, but Glyph informed her that she was with Javik in the engineering bay. As the doors slid open, the sound of raised voices reached her ears. She hurried down the corridor and into the room, just in time to witness the heated exchange between her two crewmates.

"Those were all lies back there!", Liara yelled in anger.

"They were not.", Javik replied calmly.

Liara paced hard in the room, glaring at Javik."My people weren't animals for your kind to experiment on!"

Javik pointed out the obvious. "You wanted to know more about your history, asari. Now you do."

Liara's biotics flared violently. Her rage against Javik clear. "I have a name. It's Liara T'Soni. And I'd appreciate you using it from now on!"

Shepard abruptly intervened, pushing Liara's arm aside. "Hey, settle down!" she commanded, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

"My home was just destroyed... and all he can do is gloat!", she shouted.
Shepard understood Liara's anger. She wanted Javik to understand as well. "Giving what's happened today, I think you owe Liara an apology, Javik."

Javik leaned back, crossing his arms in defiance, "Apologize for the truth?"

Liara cut in, yelling. "For not doing more! You're a Prothean! You were supposed to have all the answers! How could you not stop this from happening?"

Javik stared at Liara. "We believed you would."

Liara looked at him, stunned, then glanced at Shepard. The intensity of her biotic rage slowly dissipated, replaced by a profound sadness.

Javik's gaze softened as he surveyed the room, his voice tinged with a rare vulnerability. "Long ago, we recognized the potential within your people. It was evident even then—the wisdom, the patience. You were destined to be the shining hope for this cycle. So, we guided you when necessary, steering the course of your development."

Liara stepped back, a pained expression on her face. "Well, it didn't work."

"You're still alive, aren't you?", Javik continued. "Your world may have fallen, but as long as even one asari is left standing, the fight isn't over."

"I suppose that holds true for Protheans as well," Liara murmured, a heavy sadness shading her voice.

"Despair is the enemy's greatest weapon. Do not let them wield it... Liara T'Soni," Javik's voice was heavy with an unspoken sorrow, his arms falling helplessly to his sides. He took a step forward, his nod acknowledging the weight of their shared grief.

Liara gave him a weak smile, her eyes glistening with unspoken sorrow, and left the room. Shepard watched her retreating figure, a heavy silence filling the space, then turned back to Javik.

"That was... unexpected. Thank you for your honesty," Shepard said to him, her voice filled with a mix of gratitude and surprise.

Javik stood quiet then replied, "We still need her talents. If grief overcomes her, she will be lost to us."

Shepard walked forward, "So did you actually mean what you said?"
"Does it matter?", he asks.

"Liara's been a good friend to me. It matters.", Shepard glared.

Javik leaned back on his leg, "Then I will tell you what you want to hear: I meant what I said." He resumed to his washing basin.

Shepard watched him meticulously wash his hands, each motion deliberate and almost ritualistic. The silence between them thickened, filled with unspoken questions and lingering doubts. Unsure of his true motives, Shepard decided to leave Javik to his enigmatic rituals and stepped away, her thoughts racing.

Shepard made her way back on deck three, feeling the weight of the recent conversation still lingering in her mind. As she passed the mess hall, she paused, noticing a group of crew members gathered, their faces a mix of worry and determination. She joined them for a moment, sharing a few words about the mission and the challenges ahead.

The conversations were tinged with a heavy sense of loss; many had lost contact with their families, and the uncertainty of their loved ones' safety hung in the air like a dark cloud.

Shepard's heart ached for them, understanding all too well the pain of separation and the fear of the unknown. She offered words of encouragement, reminding them of their resilience and the strength they found in each other. The brief interaction lifted their spirits, if only slightly, and Shepard felt a renewed sense of purpose as she continued on her way.

As Shepard moved through the ship, she decided to make a quick stop by the medbay. She found Dr. Chockwas engrossed in her work but managed to steal a moment for a casual chat. The doctor hinted at some important information she needed to share but assured Shepard it could wait another day. With a nod of understanding, Shepard continued her walk, her mind still heavy with thoughts of the earlier conversation.

Eventually, she found herself at the core room. Taking a deep breath, she entered Satima's quarters, her curiosity piqued by the young girl's activities and the mysterious object she had been working on.

"Satima? Are you here?”, Shepard calls out quietly in the dimly lit core room.

Satima then jumps down from a duct vent overhead, turning around to see Shepard, arms crossed, tapping her foot. Shepard's eyes widened in astonishment, "Satima, what on earth were you doing in the ducts?"

Satima stammered, "Oh, Shepard! I wasn't doing anything wrong; I promise. I was just looking for something I lost-it... got lost. See.", she held up a small metal cube.

"What is that?", Shepard asked with genuine curiosity, her eyes narrowing as she focused on the small metal cube in Satima's hands.

Satima smiled mischievously. "This is my own VI," she said, her eyes glinting with excitement. "I got bored and decided to create something to help scan the Crucible's schematics." She placed the small metal cube on an adjustable shelf, its surface gleaming under the dim lights.

"Interesting. I know you wanted to speak with me, but first, there's something important I need to share," Shepard said, stepping closer to Satima with a sense of urgency in her voice.

"All right, then," Satima replied, her voice tinged with curiosity and caution. She stepped even closer, her eyes meeting Satima's with a determined look.

Shepard started to speak and stopped, feeling a wave of awkwardness wash over her. "You know, this is usually not so hard," she finally managed to say, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

"You don't have to, Satima. I completely crossed a line and pushed too hard. I'm truly sorry," Shepard admitted, her tone softer and more sincere.

Shepard took a deep breath, her eyes softening as she looked at Satima. "Listen, don't apologize. Your concern for Thessia shows how much you care, and I respect that. I was wrong to snap at you, and as your commanding officer, I should have handled it better." She placed a reassuring hand on Satima's shoulder, her voice resolute yet gentle.

Satima gazed at Shepard with a mixture of regret and determination. "Being in command is never easy, Shepard. Especially when everyone is looking to you for answers. I'm truly sorry about Thessia, and I know how much Liara means to you. Losing her homeworld... it's a wound that won't easily heal."

Shepard nodded, her eyes reflecting a deep sorrow as she pondered the immense weight of Liara’s loss and despair.

Satima walked to the side rail in front of the hull wall. She leaned over it, hesitating as a shadow of fear crossed her face. "But I'm telling you... losing Thessia to the Reapers is the least of your worries."

"How so?" Shepard wondered, sensing a deeper concern in Satima's voice.

"It just is." Satima's voice wavered, her eyes darting nervously as if haunted by visions of a dark future. She glanced back at Shepard, almost revealing the full truth but holding back at the last moment. The weight of unsaid words hung heavily in the air.

Shepard sighed at the girl's cryptic response, then left with Satima getting back to work on her data.

..............................................................................
No Sanctuary
Lera System

With a sense of urgency, Shepard and her team prepared for their departure to the Lera system. This mission to investigate the "Sanctuary" facility, which had mysteriously gone silent, could hold critical clues to their fight against Cerberus.

During the ride, tension crackled in the confined space of the shuttle. Shepard paced, her mind racing with possibilities and unknowns. Tali, sensing the growing anxiety, stood up and moved closer to Shepard. She knew they all needed a break from the oppressive silence.
"What do we know, Shepard?" she asked, hoping to ground them all in the mission at hand.

Shepard turned her attention to the Normandy droid. "EDI, what do we know about Sanctuary?"

"The sanctuary facility was established to provide refuge for those fleeing from Reaper-controlled space," EDI explained, her synthesized voice calm yet authoritative. "Recently, all communications from the facility ceased. The reason behind this silence remains unclear, but the involvement of Kai Leng and Cerberus suggests something more sinister at play."

EDI's eyes glowed, reflecting the concern that even an AI could manifest. She placed a hand on her hip while gripping a lever above with the other, her posture embodying a calculated readiness.

Shepard nodded thoughtfully, the gravity of the situation sinking in deeper. This mission was more than just another operation—it was a race against time to uncover Cerberus's plans and potentially save countless lives.

The commander placed her hand on the ceiling, mirroring EDI's stance, determination blazing in her eyes. "If there's a clue to Cerberus here, we will find it."

Cortez sat up in his chair, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized the readings. "Commander, I'm detecting a signal from the facility. It's faint, but I'll see if I can amplify it."

"This is Oriana Lawson. Stay away from Sanctuary. It's not what it seems. Please, you must listen to me! They're using...", the signal repeated.

"Oriana? That's Miranda's sister.", Shepard confirmed. "If she's here, Miranda can't be far away."

EDI moved purposefully toward the front, her synthetic eyes glinting with determination. "That's our link to Cerberus," she intoned, her voice a blend of urgency and precision.

"Approaching the LZ.”, Cortez informs. "Seeing some damage, Commander but no activity."

As the shuttle descended towards the landing pad, the scene below came into sharp focus. The imposing white facility loomed large, its pristine surfaces now marred by smoke and flames rising from scattered debris and smoldering sky cars. The once serene courtyard, dotted with green shrubs, now bore the scars of a recent and violent struggle. Barricades, hastily erected, stood as silent sentinels, bearing witness to the chaos that had unfolded not long ago.

While the shuttle continued its descent, Shepard's eyes scanned the chaotic scene below. "Cerberus is not getting the jump on us this time!" she declared, her voice a mix of determination and defiance.

The hatch of the shuttle hissed open, revealing the smoldering remnants of the once-pristine facility. Shepard's grip on her rifle tightened as she stepped out, her senses on high alert. "Stay sharp, people," she commanded, her team falling in line behind her, ready for whatever lay ahead.

They fought their way through the facility, a maelstrom of chaos and violence. Cerberus troopers poured out from every corner, their relentless assault met with precise and lethal force from Shepard and her team. Phantoms, deadly and agile, flitted through the smoke, their cloaked forms barely visible before striking.

Shepard moved with calculated aggression, her rifle spitting fire as she advanced, cutting down enemies with unerring accuracy. Tali's omni-tool flickered brightly beside her, sending out pulses of energy that disrupted enemy shields and machinery, while EDI's synthetic frame flowed through the battlefield, her integrated weapons system unleashing a barrage of devastating rounds.

The team took cover behind the remnants of barricades and smoldering debris, the air thick with the acrid smell of burning materials. Cortez provided aerial support from the shuttle, his keen eyes spotting snipers perched in the broken towers. With expert precision, he relayed their positions to Shepard, who directed her team's fire to neutralize the threats.

Grenades exploded around them, sending shrapnel and dust into the air, but the team pressed on, their determination unwavering. Each Cerberus operative that fell was a step closer to uncovering the truth behind Sanctuary and thwarting the nefarious plans of Cerberus.

As the last Cerberus trooper fell, the team found themselves in the eerily silent lobby of the Horizon facility. Amidst the smoking ruins and flickering lights, a terminal stood intact, its screen flashing with a message. Shepard approached cautiously, her heart pounding with anticipation.

"Shepard, take a look at this," EDI's voice broke the silence, drawing Shepard's attention to the terminal. With a sense of urgency, she activated the screen.

"This is a Cerberus facility... "

"Shepard.", EDI spoke.

"That's Miranda," Shepard replied, her voice a mix of urgency and disbelief. She hurriedly approached the terminal, her heart racing.

"This is Miranda Lawson. If you managed to get this far, you must be desperate or stupid.", several images of the facility before it got damaged from an attack, displayed on the screen.

"Listen to me. This is not a refugee camp. This is a Cerberus facility run by my father, Henry Lawson. Turn back now. There is no help to be found here-all communication is being blocked from the central tower. Sanctuary is a lie. Stay away." The message ended.

The screen went to static, Shepard looked to her team. "Okay. So, we've got Cerberus, Reapers, and Miranda's crazy father. Any ideas how this all fits?"

Tali and EDI exchanged worried glances. Shepard tightened her grip on her rifle, scanning the desolate landscape outside the facility. "Fantastic. Just when I thought things couldn't get any worse," she muttered under her breath. "Why did I decide to leave Garrus behind?"

Before anyone could respond, the sound of distant gunfire and the ominous hum of approaching Reapers filled the air. Shepard's adrenaline surged as she turned to her team, fire blazing in her eyes. "Alright, we've got no time to waste. Let's move out and find a way to put an end to this madness."

They pressed on through the facility, the atmosphere growing more oppressive with each step. The team found a hidden mechanism that, when activated, drained a pool to reveal a secret door at its base.
"Looks like we've found something Cerberus didn't want us to see," Tali remarked, her voice a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

As they descended into the concealed passage, the walls were lined with ominous Reaper tech, pulsating with an eerie light. Every corner seemed to hide a new danger, and the team moved with heightened caution, their senses on full alert.

Here, in these forsaken labs, the true extent of Cerberus's depravity was laid bare.

Shepard and her team stumbled upon rows of shadowy pods, each containing twisted, half-human forms. The air was thick with the stench of death and decay. These grotesque husks were once living beings, subjected to horrific experiments by Cerberus to harness Reaper technology. Among the lifeless bodies were men, women, and even children, all victims of the Illusive Man's insatiable quest for control and power.

The sight filled Shepard with a cold fury, her resolve hardening with each step. Cerberus's cruelty knew no bounds, and the urgency of their mission became painfully clear.

Deeper into the facility, Shepard's mind raced with thoughts of Miranda's warnings. The sense of urgency gnawed at her, knowing that Kai Leng was somewhere within these dark corridors. She hoped that Miranda had prepared for his inevitable appearance, especially given her cryptic warning back at the Citadel.

The team advanced through a long corridor, husks emerging from every shadow. From balconies above, rachni unleashed a torrent of fire. Shepard, with precise shots, picked them off one by one.

The absence of Garrus was keenly felt, his sharpshooting skills sorely missed. As they crossed the facility using a platform, more Reapers came into view, followed closely by a brute. Suddenly, the air was pierced by the chilling screams of Banshees, racing down the hallway towards them.
"Bring down the brute first!" Shepard yelled.

With swift precision, EDI dodged an incoming biotic wave from the Banshee. Her movements were a blur, a demonstration to her advanced programming as abominations poured through every hallway and door, threatening to overwhelm them.

Tali's drone zipped through the chaos, drawing the brute's attention and creating an opening for Shepard. With precise shots, Shepard targeted the brute's exposed armor, while EDI's android reflexes took down the encroaching cannibals and husks. Tali maneuvered behind new cover, her shotgun ready to blast a path forward.

The brute suddenly charged down the hall, Shepard's mind had to work swiftly. She hurled a lift grenade, watching it arc through the air and land directly on the beast.

Hot shrapnel exploded all around it, as biotic energy burned its exposed plating. Tali ran behind, using her shotgun to rip a hole into the back of the brute. It roared in pain, as Shepard finished it with a few rounds of her thermal clip.

With the brute defeated, Shepard's team pressed onward, their determination undeterred. The ominous hallways echoed with distant growls and the occasional hiss of escaping steam. As they approached the main lab, EDI's sensors detected a terminal humming with activity.

Shepard proceeded to activate the terminal, the screen flickering to life as Henry Lawson's voice echoed ominously through the lab. He detailed his twisted experiments conducted under the directives of the Illusive Man. These experiments, dark and sinister, hinted at a connection to the Reapers that sent chills down Shepard's spine.

With every revelation, Shepard's determination grew stronger. She turned to her team, their faces reflecting the same resolve. "We can't let this continue," she thought, her grip tightening around her weapon as they approached the waypoint.

The terminal's data revealed a labyrinth of deceit and danger. The Illusive Man's obsession with control had driven him to explore the darkest corners of scientific possibility. By manipulating the data extracted from the husks, he aimed to not only decode the essence of synthesis but to master it. His goal was audacious—to rewrite the very code of the Reapers and bend their formidable power to his will. A Directive.

This was absolute madness to the commander. The terminal revealed the location of Henry Lawson and Shepard was not going to let him escape the Reaper-infested facility. She briskly led her team to the waypoint, their footsteps echoing with urgency. A quick ride in an elevator brought them to the entrance of the lab. The sound of weapons fire inside heightened the tension.

"Get ready!" Shepard commanded, her voice unwavering, as they prepared to confront whatever horrors awaited beyond the doors.
Inside, Miranda leaned against a desk, clutching her side as blood trickled from a wound. Her eyes met Shepard's, filled with defiance and pain. Henry Lawson, with a calculated smirk, held Oriana tightly, his weapon aimed menacingly at Shepard.

"Commander Shepard. Excellent timing," Henry sneered, his pistol unwavering as he shielded himself with Oriana.

Shepard tightened her grip on her rifle, taking a calculated step forward. Her voice sliced through the tension like a knife. "Put the gun down, Henry. Now."

"No. Oriana tried to shoot me. Miranda's poisonous influence, no doubt.", Henry glared towards Miranda.

Shepard smirked, "I'm sorry she missed." She narrowed her eyes at him, "Where's Kai Leng?"

"I don't know. Gone. He took my research and left us here to die.", Henry's tone sounding irritated. He looked around him nervously.

Shepard glanced at Miranda. "Miranda, can you hear me?"
Miranda gritted her teeth and slowly got to her feet, blood trickling down her face from several small cuts. Her eyes burned with a fierce determination as she locked eyes with Henry. His nervousness was palpable, his grip tightening around Oriana.

"That's close enough, both of you!" Henry's voice wavered with tension. "Kai Leng didn't finish the job, but I will."

"This ends here, Henry," Shepard declared, her voice a razor's edge of determination.

Henry smirked, "On the contrary. Now that the Reapers are taken care of, we have a way out."

Shepard wasn't there to negotiate. Her voice dripped with menace as she locked eyes with Henry. "Let her go or this ends badly for you."

"Shepard... don't let him take her.", Miranda begged.

"Shepard... please.", Oriana pleaded.

Shepard's pulse quickened. This was it. No way was she letting Henry get away with this. Or take Oriana.

"What exactly do you think you've created here?", Shepard asked, trying to get him to talk.

"Hope. Few people have the stomach to do what it takes to stop the reapers. And what we learned here will save countless lives. I will be seen as the savior of the human race.", Henry kept talking.

"Hope? That's your idea of hope? Using people as pawns in your twisted game?" Shepard retorted, her voice dripping with contempt. She caught a glimpse of the fractured glass panel behind Henry, and a plan began to form.

Miranda's eyes flickered with understanding as she too noticed the weak spot. Shepard decided to press further, hoping to distract Henry.

"I have no problem with you. I just want Oriana and the research data.", Shepard asked calmly.

"You want a lot.", Henry replied with a sinister stare.

Shepard begins moving around, angling herself to shoot the glass. "You get your life in return. How much is that worth?"

Henry's eyes flickered to Oriana and then back to Shepard. "All right. Take her.", he sneered, shoving Oriana forward. "But I want out alive. Deal?"

Miranda's eyes flared with determination as she ignited her biotics, her fists glowing with an intense blue light. With a swift and powerful motion, she unleashed a warp that sent her father hurtling backward through the fragile glass. His scream echoed as he plummeted to his demise.

"No deal.", Miranda declared, her voice resolute and unwavering, glaring out through the shattered glass frame as the shards glistened like stardust.

Miranda rushed to Oriana's side, her eyes filled with concern. "Did he hurt you? Are you alright?" she asked, her voice a gentle mix of urgency and care. Oriana, still trembling, allowed Miranda to help her up, falling into a comforting embrace. "It's okay, Ori. You're safe now," Miranda whispered, her words a soothing balm to her sister's frayed nerves.

"I'm fine. I just... I want to get out of here," Oriana replied, her voice barely above a whisper as she closed her eyes, trying to steady herself.

Miranda pulls gently away, holding her sister's hand tightly. "We will. Give me a minute, okay?"

The ex-operative turns to Shepard, walking forward to her. "Commander Shepard. Fancy meeting you here."

"We caught a break. Are you, all right?", Shepard asked concerned.

"I'll be fine. Really. I don't know how you managed it, but I'm grateful you're here.", Miranda crosses her arms with a smile.

Shepard tilted her head slightly, curiosity evident in her eyes. "Miranda, how did you manage all this?”

She looked away in thought, "Finding my father didn't take long once I confirmed he worked for the Illusive Man. Just had to follow the lies." Miranda glanced downward then looked up, pacing around Shepard. "Once I saw what this place really was... I couldn't just walk away."

"Of course.", Shepard agreed.

"Things got really complicated when the Reapers showed up. And Kai Leng.", Miranda narrowed her gaze, remembering her fight with him.
"You survived. Not many people could do that," Shepard remarked, admiration evident in her tone.

Miranda shared how Shepard's timely warnings had been crucial, helping her to take the necessary precautions that ultimately saved her life. She had meticulously planned her next moves, with the determination to whisk her sister away to the safest haven in the galaxy. Thoughts of reuniting with her sister in a tranquil corner of space fueled her resolve, all the while placing her hope in Shepard's ability to thwart the Reaper invasion.

Shepard, with a mix of relief and admiration, remarked, "You took a huge risk, Miranda. You should have told me sooner. You could have been killed regardless."

Miranda smirked, "You have a galaxy to save, Shepard. This was my battle, and it’s been a long time coming."

"Agreed. Well, you did it. It's over," Shepard continued, her voice carrying a blend of relief and admiration. "It must feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders."

Miranda paused, her eyes reflecting a mix of exhaustion and determination. "Yes, it does. But there's still so much to do." The ex-operative nodded in thought, though a flicker of regret shadowed her eyes. "I only wish my sister had never been dragged into all this. At least my father is finally out of the picture. He was a cruel man." Her voice held a quiet strength born from years of turmoil.

Shepard's gaze softened with understanding. "You did what you had to. And now, you’ve ensured a future for both of you."

Meanwhile, EDI and Tali were feverishly at work on the terminal, their fingers dancing over the keys with precision. Shepard glanced over, curiosity piqued. "How's it looking? Any Intel we can salvage from this place?"

EDI began typing away, "Research databases have been purged, but security systems are intact, including Cerberus shipping direct links, but it's a good start."

Shepard approached the console next to EDI. "Grab anything you can off the computer. We'll take it back to be analyzed."

"I can do better than that.", Miranda cut in.

"What?", Shepard asked.

Miranda handled a device in her hand, flipping it. "Before Kai Leng took off, I planted a tracer on him. If you act fast, you'll track him right to the Illusive Man."

She handed the device to Shepard. "A tracer? Sounds like you thought of everything."

Miranda sighed, fidgeting with the collar of her uniform. "Not quite, but... nobody's perfect."

Shepard smiled, "Thanks, Miranda. This is... exactly what we need."
"Thought you might need some good news," Miranda said with a slight smirk as she led her sister out of the room. "I'll be in touch, Shepard. Soon."

"I hope so.", Shepard nods. "And stay safe out there. The both of you." She looks towards Oriana.

Miranda left with her sister. Shepard's fingers danced over the console as she initiated a sequence to broadcast Miranda's warning as far into the system as possible. "Cortez, we need a pickup at the tower," Shepherd called through her comm.

"Roger that.", he replied.

Shepard looked out over the facility from the high view, her eyes narrowing with determination. "I've had enough of this place."
...................................................

Back on the Normandy, Shepard received an urgent vid-comm from Admiral Hackett. Despite his initial disapproval of her diversion to Sanctuary, he recognized the critical importance of the mission. His voice carried a mix of relief and stern resolve as he commended her efforts.

The commander recounted the horrors she had witnessed at Sanctuary, describing the ruthless experiments Cerberus conducted on innocent refugees in their twisted quest to study indoctrination. Admiral Hackett's stern face softened as he acknowledged the gravity of their discovery and commended Shepard's decisive actions.

Hackett acknowledged the gravity of the information, but also agreed that the cost had been too steep. Determined to eliminate Cerberus's threat once and for all, they concocted a daring plan to shift their full focus onto the Reapers. It was time to put an end to the distractions and confront the real enemy head-on.

The Admiral's image flickered off the screen, their plan now set in motion. Shepard took a deep breath, feeling the weight of their mission settle on her shoulders. She left the war room with purpose, her boots echoing through the halls of the Normandy. Her crew watched her, eyes filled with respect and determination, as they stood and saluted.

Shepard nodded back, a silent promise that they would face whatever came next together. The Normandy was more than just a ship; it was a symbol of their unity and strength. And now, they would need every ounce of it to confront the looming threat of the Reapers.

The commander strode purposefully through the bustling CIC, her thoughts a whirlwind of strategies and possibilities. She paused briefly to exchange determined glances with her crew. As she neared the cockpit, she encountered EDI, who stood with an inquisitive air, clearly eager to discuss something of profound importance.

Shepard spoke to EDI, who had been contemplating the very essence of organic survival and the profundity of fighting for someone you care about.

"EDI," Shepard began, her tone softened with understanding, "it's about the will to protect those we love, even if it seems impossible."

EDI's optical sensor dimmed momentarily as she processed Shepard's words. She then recounted the heartbreaking scene at the prison camp, where captives had chosen to face certain death rather than submit to the Reapers' tyranny. "They fought because they believed in something greater," EDI mused.

Shepard nodded, a glimmer of admiration in her eyes. "And that's what makes us strong. It's not about the battles we win, but the reasons we fight."

EDI turned her focus to Joker, who was piloting the Normandy with his usual mix of precision and wit. The realization dawned on her; she had developed the capacity to feel, to care deeply for someone. And that someone was Jeff. "I understand now," EDI said with a newfound clarity.
Shepard's heart swelled with pride. "That's the spirit, EDI. Love and loyalty make us better, make us fight harder."

She continued her rounds, making her way to deck 3, where she noticed Tali leisurely sipping on an exotic drink. Curious, Shepard decided to join her.

"Shepard. Wanna drink? I'm toasting Miranda. I think.", Tali hiccupped.

This was too weird and funny. Bless Tali, she can be so dramatic. Shepard couldn't help but chuckle, "Tali, are you really getting drunk?"

"Very carefully. Turian brandy, triple filtered, then introduced into the suit through an emergency induction port.", Tali explained.

Shepard raised a brow. "That's a straw, Tali."

"Emergency induction port. It's actually getting a little harder to get it into the slot. I think that means it's working...", Tali raised her glass, looking for the straw. "She was so rude. What did Jack call her? "Cerberus cheerleader." With her perfect genes, and that attitude, and... And still, she got it done. She stopped her father."

Shepard looked perplexed, she started to feel a little worried for Tali. "I didn't realize this would be so hard on you"

Tali continued, "I didn't like her. Keelah, she was such a bitch. But I respected her. Sometimes that's better than liking. She did whatever it took to stop her father. She never gave into him. Never changed herself to please him."

Shepard thought for a moment. She figured out what Tali's real problem was. "Ah.", she said.

"Don't "Ah" me! You sound like a vorcha.", Tali commented.

"Seeing a bit of yourself in Miranda fighting her father?", Shepard asked.

"I've spent my life trying to live up to him, then making up for his mistakes, doing what he'd have wanted.", Tali found her straw, sipping again.

Shepard smirked, "It's never that easy."

"When do we get to stop reacting to our parents and start living for ourselves?", Tali asked, swishing her drink in the glass.

"The answer to that one's at the bottom of that glass", Shepard replied.

"I might need help with the induction straw. Port. You know.", Tali grabbed her straw tight.

"Here's to Miranda.", Shepard picked up an empty glass, raising it alongside Tali's.

"Nice job, you genetically perfect Cerberus cheerleader bosh'tet. Keehal se'lai.", Tali began sucking the brandy hard through her induction straw.

Shepard couldn't help but chuckle, amused by Tali's tipsy determination. "Don’t forget to save some for the rest of us, Tali.," she remarked, her grin widening as she watched her friend tackle the brandy with gusto.
................
It took Shepard an hour to finish her rounds. Javik had shown her his memory shard, sharing the last agonizing moments of his people, a burden he carried with unwavering resolve. She pondered the legacy she would leave behind—would her own shard tell a tale of triumph and resilience, or one of defeat and sorrow?

She roamed the Normandy's corridors, her steps echoing the rhythm of her restless thoughts. Shepard circled back to deck 3, the weight of Satima's cryptic words heavy on her mind. Shepard couldn't shake the unease that had settled in her gut. She paused in the mess, letting the cacophony of conversations momentarily drown her worries before steeling herself and heading towards the med-bay, determination etched in her features.

The door to the core room slid open, revealing Satima hunched over her workstation, her focus unwavering for the past three days. She was surrounded by a sea of data pads displaying Crucible schematics and the latest reports from the Sanctuary facility. Shepard approached slowly, her footsteps echoing softly in the quiet room.

Satima looked up, acknowledging Shepard with a quick nod before immersing herself back into her work, her fingers flying over the data pads.

Shepard sighed, the weight of the galaxy pressing down on her. "I need more information, Satima," she said, taking a seat next to the young woman. Satima’s intense gaze met hers, and Shepard was struck by a sudden wave of familiarity. Her dark eyes, rimmed with teal, reminded Shepard of someone close, someone who had once stared at her with the same mix of fear and determination.

"The Reapers won," Satima stated, her voice barely above a whisper. She averted her eyes, avoiding Shepard's probing gaze. There was a depth of fear in her words, a reluctance to expose the truths she harbored. It wasn’t the time to reveal everything—trust was still a fragile thing between them, built on shaky foundations.

"How so?" Shepard's eyes widened with concern, sensing that Satima was on the brink of revealing something crucial. She knew that earning the young woman's trust was imperative.

Satima's voice trembled slightly as she responded, "I’m not entirely sure, but something happened, and there was a standstill. The whole galaxy is under their thumb, and no one is safe. It's like a pervasive shadow that won't lift."

Shepard leaned in closer, her voice a mix of urgency and empathy. "Satima, we need to understand what's happening. Anything you can tell me could be the key to turning this around."

Satima continued with her tinkering, the silence between them thickening. Shepard could feel the tension in the air, a palpable sense of unease that gnawed at her resolve. She watched Satima's every movement, searching for a crack in her composed exterior.

The quiet hum of the Normandy's engines seemed to amplify the gravity of the moment. Satima's fingers danced over the data pads with a frantic energy, betraying the calm she tried to project. Shepard's mind raced, each passing second heightening the suspense.

Finally, she could bear it no longer. "Do you know how..." Shepard began, but Satima cut her off, her voice sharp and trembling.

"I don't know! Ok! Just... stop asking questions, please." Satima's outburst was sudden, her frustration boiling over as she stood up abruptly.

Shepard followed her, her own emotions simmering beneath the surface. "Hey, I was asking politely. You don't have to snap at me too," she said, her agitation clear.

Satima stopped, her hands trembling as she placed the data pads on the shelf. She stared into the hull, her voice barely more than a whisper, "You want the truth?"

Shepard nodded, the air between them crackling with tension.

"The truth is, I'm scared. It's a mistake that I'm here. That's all." Satima turned to face Shepard, her eyes filled with a mix of fear and resolve. "I'm the most unqualified person on this ship. And you still let me help you?"

Shepard tried to console her, but Satima shrugged her off, her voice cold and distant. "Don't play soft, Commander. The enemy is always watching."

.............
Shepard paced restlessly in her cabin, her thoughts a whirlwind of frustration and determination. She had faced countless challenges—being spaced, reborn, and nearly collected by the Reapers—yet now, the key to stopping the harvest of the galaxy seemed just out of reach. The one person with crucial information, Satima, remained tight-lipped, her reluctance a maddening puzzle.

"Why is she so hesitant?" Shepard muttered to herself, her eyes darting to the model of the Normandy on her desk. Memories of past battles and camaraderie flooded her mind, fueling her resolve. She had to find a way to break through Satima's fear and uncover the truth.

Shepard had apologized, but it only seemed to fuel Satima’s agitation. Sooner or later, the truth was bound to surface, compelling both of them to confront the hidden reality. Shepard stopped pacing, her gaze locking onto her desk where a collection of model ships and shuttles adorned the wall like silent sentinels of her journey.

She took a deep breath, her eyes drifting to the centerpiece of her collection: the Normandy. The vessel's sleek lines and polished hull symbolized not just a ship, but a sanctuary, a relentless force in the battle against the darkness threatening the galaxy. Dusting off the model, a wave of nostalgia washed over her, mingled with a renewed sense of purpose.

Shepard's thoughts wandered to the times she had spent assembling her crew, each member a piece of her puzzle. The memory of meeting Garrus for the first time on her way to see the council brought a fond smile to her face. He was so young then, rebellious and eager, with a spark that had never dimmed. She felt a blush creep up as she recalled his endearing awkwardness.

Leaning back in her chair, she sighed. The bond she shared with her crew was her anchor in this turbulent galaxy. She knew she needed to make time for them soon, to nurture these connections that had become her lifeline. Before the relentless tide of war left no more moments to spare.

"Commander. You have a new message at your private terminal.", Traynors voice echoed.

Shepard leaned forward and tapped her terminal on. An urgent message from Hackett flashed on the screen. Her heart raced as she read the lines. An Alliance researcher named Doctor Bryson had uncovered vital information about the Reapers. This was the breakthrough they desperately needed!

Closing the terminal with determination, she sprang from her chair and strode out of her cabin with renewed vigor.

.................................................................................................................
Citadel Docks
Normandy platform

Shepard took a cab alone, her mind racing with anticipation. She landed in his yard and walked casually into the lab, her eyes scanning the surroundings with keen interest. The apartment was spacious, with an intriguing mix of old and new artifacts.

An extinct marine animal, likely a dinosaur, was suspended above, casting eerie shadows on the walls. A piece of Sovereign's hull, standing ominously in a containment case, added to the room's otherworldly ambiance.

Guided by curiosity, Shepard ventured into a smaller, blue-tinted lab. Inside, she found a chaotic assemblage of data and clues, all pointing towards the Reapers. Each piece seemed to hold a fragment of the truth, a key to unlocking the mystery that could save the galaxy.

"I want you to match this against all known locations and update the map. Then contact the field teams for a progress report." Dr. Bryson blared to his assistant across the lab. He stood, typing, in front of a large screen.
"Yes, sir.", his assistant, Derek replied.

Bryson turned toward Shepard, data pad in hand. "Commander Shepard. We've been expecting you. Just a moment." He faced Derek. "And Hadley, could you gather the Leviathan data for us?"

Derek Hadley busied himself with another terminal. Bryson led Shepard further into his lab. "Apologies, Commander; the rest of my team is out investigating leads right now. I'm Dr. Garret Bryson and this is Task Force Aurora."

In the smaller lab room, Shepard glanced at a galaxy map, like hers on the Normandy. She looked at him. "What's your assignment?"

Bryson looked around his room. Pictures dotted the walls like the room before. "Our mandate is to investigate legends, rumors... old stories about the Reapers before anyone knew they existed."

"That's an interesting goal, but is anyone doubting the Reapers exist these days?" Shepard asked, sarcastically.

"The Alliance is still desperate for intelligence. Reaper motives, their operational tactics... anything that can give us an edge." Bryson gestured at his data.

Shepard crossed her arms. "And how did you wind up in charge?"

Bryson smirked. "When the rest of the galaxy says, something doesn't exist, I take that as a chance to prove that is does."

"So, you're in it for the challenge?", she asked.

"For the truth. Even as late as 2148, humanity still thought aliens were a myth. That was within my lifetime.", he replied. "Once the myth was proven to be reality, our entire history changed."

"Reapers were part of that reality, too.", Shepard followed him to another containment case.

Bryson faced her. "But even they have a history, Commander. If we can just uncover it, there may be a weakness we can exploit."

All of what Bryson said made Shepard think back to when she first encountered Sovereign. If someone else had the answers, the proof they needed, then the galaxy would've been prepared.

Shepard would've had the upper hand and the galaxy could've been saved from untold suffering. With a wry smile, she muttered, "I could've used your help three years ago."

Bryson agreed, "Yes. If people had paid more attention to your Prothean beacon, we might not be in this war."

Bryson walked to his galaxy map as Shepard overlooked a data pad. He leaned over the rail to the front console. "But now, with new information we've uncovered, a breakthrough is near." As Bryson began typing on the holo controls, Hadley quickly approached. "Hadley, do you have the data?"

Shepard continued skimming the information on the data pad, when Hadley brought out a pistol, aiming towards Bryson. "No." and shot the Doctor.

In the blink of an eye, the assistant's weapon was aimed at Shepard. Reacting swiftly, she hurled her datapad, disarming him with a precise throw. Within moments, she had him pinned to the ground, her strength and training prevailing.

The assistant lay motionless under her grip. Shepard tapped the comm implant behind her ear and commanded, "This is Commander Shepard! I need C-Sec at my location, now!"

Hadley's eyes remained wide open, his pupils dilated with a haunting emptiness. His mouth moved, uttering words with a voice not his own, "You shouldn't be here... the darkness is impenetrable..."

Minutes later, C-Sec showed up. Two turian cops ran in to apprehend Hadley. They all stood in front of the containment case in the small lab. An eerie feeling crept up around them.

"Transit records his name as Derek Hadley. He's worked here for a couple of months.", the officer explained.

As Shepard paced in thought, EDI stepped in. "Shepard, I monitored a C-Sec alert from this location. Were you harmed?"

Shepard looked relieved but not surprised. "I'm fine. But I could use your help sorting this out, EDI. Take a look through their files. I need to know what this task force was up to."

"At once.", EDI complied.

Hadley slowly began to stir, his eyes blinking as if waking from a nightmare. "What... What's happening?" he stammered, his voice shaking with confusion and fear.

Shepard crossed her arms, curious, "You tell me." Her eyes narrowed on the young assistant.

He began to stutter, "I... I was... ga... gathering our data when you arrived, and then... It was dark... cold... like I was someplace else..."

"And then?", Shepard asked.

"I don't know. A... gun was in my hand. Dr. Bryson. There was... a loud noise.", Hadley looked down confused.

Shepard pointed at him. "That was you shooting him!"

A C-Sec officer moved away from the dead body. Hadley seen it immediately and ran to it in horror. "I didn't do it! It wasn't me! You must believe that!"

Shepard felt perplexed. "So, someone else pulled that trigger?"

"But I would never do that!", Hadley put a hand to his head. He seemed to be holding it in pain.

EDI glanced to the group, "Commander, this does resemble reports of indoctrination."

"Indoctrination? Me?", Hadley stood up, scared.

"What about that "Leviathan" Bryson mentioned? How does that tie in?", Shepard questioned.

Hadley paced, "It's... some kind of creature. Our field teams have been tracking it." He turned to the glass containment case on the wall. An orb sat encased in a kinetic barrier. "That artifact came in from our researcher, Garneau. He sent an audio log if you want to-" Hadley grabbed his head in severe pain, crying out.

Shepard watched stunned. "What's wrong?"

Hadley fell to his knees, a blank stare returning. "Turn back." The voice said.

"What are you talking about?" Shepard stepped to him closely.

The voice from within Hadley spoke again. "The darkness cannot be breached." He fell forward to the floor, unconscious.

"Damn it. Get him over to the clinic; see if they can tell us what's wrong with him." Shepard shook her head, frustrated.

"Yes Ma'am. "The C-Sec officers began taking Hadley to the ambulance that had been called. Shepard turned to the orb, trying to peer through it. It looked foreign and dangerous. Who was that voice? And why did every feeling in her body scream reaper?

"Commander, you'll want to see this: It's an outgoing message from Dr. Bryson to Admiral Hackett." EDI said.

Hackett: Dr. Bryson, you have an update?"

The screens vid turned on. Hackett and Bryson were discussing the project in the lab. "Admiral, the "Leviathan of Dis" that we've been investigating-I think we're really onto something."

"Give me the brief.", Hackett stood at attention, arms behind his back.
Bryson faced the Admiral. "About twenty years ago, the batarians discovered a reaper corpse that had died in battle. They covered it up and denied it ever existed. But I'm intrigued by the larger implication."

Hackett glanced downward in thought. A reaper corpse would change things, but another thought crept up. "What could have killed a Reaper in the first place?"

Bryson stepped forward excited. "Exactly. That's the real Leviathan."
"It's worth pursuing. Continue your investigation and update me on the progress. "Hackett ended the call. Bryson walked away.

The vid ended. "There is also a follow up message from a few weeks later.", EDI informed.

Bryson paced nervously. "Admiral, the Reapers are shadowing my field teams as if they're hunting Leviathan themselves. Whatever it is, I believe Leviathan is nothing less than a Reaper-killer-almost an apex predator- and it has them nervous."

Hackett listened closely as the nervous doctor continued his debrief. "If we could just find it, imagine the impact on the war. I'm formally requesting assistance in tracking it down."

"You'll have it. This is now your top priority, Doctor. Find that thing." Hackett said.

After they reviewed the vid, EDI explained the recent message. "It appears we were meant to be that assistance."

Shepard gestured to the screen, "Anything capable of killing a reaper could do a lot of collateral damage."

"Yet given the state of this conflict, I believe the saying "The enemy of my enemy is my friend" may be relevant.", EDI stated.

"But we won't know unless we can find it.", Shepard said.

"Bryson's assistant did say they recently received a log from their field researcher. It may yield more information.", EDI informed.

Shepard glanced at an audio log on the desk then looked to the orb. "This must be the artifact the assistant mentioned. And here's the log."

She typed a sequence to open the message,"Dr. Bryson, it's Garneau. I'm sending you an artifact I found. About the only thing, I found there, in fact. Maybe it's nothing, but I'd swear Leviathan came through here. I'm going to crunch some numbers, burn up the rest of this project travel allowance. Maybe I can project our Reaper-killer's movements. I'll check in when I get to the next site."

The audio message ends. EDI turns to Shepard, "Garneau appears to be our best lead to track Leviathan, but he does not state a destination."
"Let's focus on what he does say, then." Shepard needed more answers.
EDI pointed to the orb, "He mentioned extrapolating Leviathan's path." Shepard agreed. "And crunching numbers. He wasn't flying blind-he had data."

"A significant amount of data, judging by this office.", EDI said.

Shepard glanced around the lab. There was a lot of information-data, to be rummaged through. "So how do we narrow it down?"

EDI walked to the galaxy map. "Bryson and his colleagues evidently used a galaxy map search program in their hunt for Leviathan. It may help us locate Garneau."

Shepard activated the map, via console. Many pings of locations showed up. "Does this tell us where Garneau went?"

"No. But we may be able to narrow down his location, if we find clues he was using in his search for Leviathan.", EDI explained.

With a sense of urgency driving her, Shepard began her investigation of the lab. Every corner seemed to hold a secret waiting to be unveiled. Her eyes were drawn to a glass containment case on the wall, housing Prothean artifacts that seemed to pulse with ancient energy.

She activated her comm, "EDI, can these artifacts help us pinpoint Garneau's location?" EDI's response was swift, adding them as the first search filter.

As she moved deeper into the lab, Shepard couldn't help but feel a chill down her spine. Screens flickered with eerie images, terminals displayed enigmatic scans and patterns, and then there was the husk head—its hollow eyes seemed to follow her every move, a guttural roar escaping its maw as she passed.

Her attention was caught by a display board, gruesomely adorned with pictures of murdered citizens. The unsettling commonality among the suspects was their blank expressions and claims of having no memory of the horrific acts they had committed. The murders were known as "blackout crimes", mysterious incidents that left both the victims and perpetrators with no memory of the events. Shepard, her curiosity piqued and her determination unwavering, turned to EDI, "Can we use this blackout information to our advantage?"

EDI's synthetic voice responded with precision, "We need to cross-reference the dates and locations of these incidents with our current data. It may reveal patterns that could lead us to Garneau."

Next to the board was a chart screen, buzzing with EDI's relentless data cross-referencing for the blackout crimes. Shepard's heart pounded as she absorbed the gravity of their mission. She stepped through the door, her boots echoing on the wood floor walkway, back into the vast, eerie lab. There, a screen beside Sovereign's ominous Reaper hull flickered to life, revealing a small audio log with Bryson's image. The log was addressed to an Alliance officer, its message now a crucial piece of the puzzle.

"Sir, this is Bryson. We know the Reapers are after Leviathan. Studying Reaper hunting patterns could be vital to finding it." The officers voice replied to his message, "That data is classified "top secret", Dr. Bryson. If it falls into the wrong hands..." Bryson continued, "It won't. The data's encrypted. I'll keep the decryption key safe... close to my heart." The audio log ended.

Shepard seemed puzzled. "Close to his heart... what the hell does that mean?"

EDI confirmed Bryson's findings and continued the search for something "close to his heart" as Shepard approached the Reaper fragment. "Sovereign, vanguard of our destruction. How's that working out for you, big guy?" she quipped with a smirk.

Shepard walked to the middle of the lab, spotting the large skeleton hanging from the ceiling. "Loch ness monster?", she chuckled.

"Plesiosaur.", EDI corrected.

Shepard shook her head, "Loch ness monster's more interesting."

"Interesting and nonexistent.", EDI said.

Shepard rolled her eyes walking to another computer data. She pressed another audio log from Bryson. "I'm looking at the rachni. Their movements during the Rachni Wars suggest alien influence. But the timing is wrong, and rachni weren't implanted with Reaper tech. What if Leviathan was preparing the rachni to fight the Reapers?" Shepard looked to EDI next to her, "What do you think, EDI?"

"It is possible that Bryson's team is using ancient rachni fleet activity to find Leviathan. We saw a datapad containing data on rachni movements earlier. It may be relevant.", EDI finished.

Shepard found a PDA across the room. It discussed findings on the Thorian. Ahead was a switch. The curiosity got to her, and she turned it on. Ultraviolet markers dotted the wall. "Bryson was tracking unexplained creature sightings..."

EDI commented he was attempting to extrapolate a course. In which Shepard agreed that Garneau could've been following that exact search filter and was added for that projected path.

Beside the wall adorned with eerie creature sightings, there were curious mining rocks that Shepard initially mistook for mere meteorites. EDI, ever meticulous, suggested a closer examination of the sample. Activating her rock fragment scanner, Shepard discovered traces of element zero—a rare and potent substance. A thought crossed her mind: could Leviathan be in need of this precious element?

EDI chimed in, confirming that element zero decays after centuries of active use. If Leviathan was as ancient as believed, it would indeed require a fresh supply.

With renewed determination, Shepard instructed EDI to add another search filter, zeroing in on locations rich in element zero.

Shepard walked around, searching the lab for more clues. She found a picture made by a child on a desk. It was from Anne Bryson. Shepard thought aloud, "Bryson was keeping the encryption key close to his heart. What's closer than family?"

"An interesting hypothesis, but I detect no trace of the decryption key in this... art.", EDI said.

Shepard proceeded upstairs to Bryson's bedroom. She examined another picture of Ann's on a side table. "Another piece of Ann Bryson's childhood art.",EDI pointed.

Shepard looked closely, "Wait a minute..." There on the drawing, were a sequence of numbers in yellow over the green field. "Well, take a look at that."

"I can use these numbers to construct a decryption key.", EDI said.

"Alright. Let's get back to the data pad we found earlier.", Shepard turned around to leave. Before heading back down the stairs, she sees an audio log on the dresser. It's an Alliance officer confirming use of an intercepted batarian communication regarding the Leviathan of Dis.

"A batarian officer, his face etched with concern, leaned in to speak to his commander. "Commander, we have the dreadnought in custody, despite salarian intelligence having surveillance footage. How do we proceed?"

The commander, unfazed, waved his hand dismissively. "Our ambassador will deny everything. What does the preliminary analysis reveal?"

The officer hesitated for a moment, then replied, "The dreadnought is ancient, several million years old, and its technology surpasses anything we've seen in Citadel space."

A gleam of interest sparkled in the commander's eyes. "Excellent. Our scientists will toil relentlessly to unlock the dreadnought's secrets for the Hegemony."

There was a palpable pause before the officer voiced his deeper fears. "But, Commander, the real threat that destroyed the ship is still out there."

The commander shrugged off the officer's concerns with a cold, calculating smile. "Then let it come. We'll be ready."

It was irrelevant compared to the high priority of the dreadnought, denying any possibility of the real Leviathan of Dis.

Shepard felt a small pang of guilt, pondering the batarians' relentless ambition. Their constant attempts to outshine other races in their quest for personal glory often led to reckless decisions. Moreover, their sinister desire to subjugate humanity only fueled Shepard's disgust.

She walked away, back down the stairs. Past the large lab room and back to the galaxy map, Shepard began her hunt for Garneau.

She tried alien sightings. It narrowed down to five systems. EDI commented the Normandy's own map had been updated and they could leave in search now, if Shepard would like.

This wasn't enough data. Shepard went back into the large lab. The rachni data displayed on the computer, and with the encryption code in hand she headed to the data-pad.

EDI commented the movements of the Reapers did not match the standard invasion data, she suggested they are searching for something. Leviathan, no doubt.

EDI used the Reaper's latest activities as the last filter. She filtered blackout crimes, rachni and prothean artifacts. They weren't relevant.
Shepard thought for a moment then started applying creature sightings, element zero and reaper activities. Bingo. The Caleston Rift was the only logical place to look. Shepard and EDI left back to the Normandy.
..................................................................................................
Caleston Rift

The Normandy sliced through the void towards the Aysur systems of the Rift, its scanners sweeping the southern quadrant for the elusive asteroid belt housing Mahavid. Shepard stood behind Cortez in the shuttle, anticipation thrumming through her veins. "We're about five minutes out, Commander," Cortez announced, his voice steady yet tinged with the thrill of discovery.

With a determined nod, Shepard prepared herself for what lay ahead. As the shuttle touched down on Mahavid, a massive, metallic asteroid, the crew disembarked with a sense of urgency. Inside the facility, an eerie silence enveloped them, amplifying the strangeness of the miners' behavior.

Every step they took seemed to echo with unspoken questions and the haunting possibility of uncovering something extraordinary—or profoundly dangerous.

Shepard's instincts screamed vigilance. As she conversed with the receptionist, a fleeting thought about the Normandy's status crossed her mind, but she quickly refocused.

Meanwhile, Satima immersed herself in the final stages of data recovery. The cube hovered beside her, casting a focused beam of light over her shoulder as she deciphered the last enigmatic patch file. Excitement surged through her veins; the crucible schematic was finally complete, but its complexity was staggering.

Symbols intertwined with numerical data, whispering secrets of synthesis and unparalleled power. The VI struggled to translate the words buried within the sequences, hinting at something monumental. Satima couldn't help but think, "If only Javik were here. He'd revel in this discovery."

The hum of the cube filled the air, a subtle reminder of the extraordinary knowledge at her fingertips. Every decoded line brought them one step closer to unlocking untold potential, and the anticipation of the unknown made her heart race with exhilaration.

Back on the asteroid, the miners' hushed whispers and sudden silences painted a picture of secrecy. Shepard's every attempt to gather information was met with guarded looks and unfinished sentences, deepening her suspicion. An unsettling realization dawned on her—these miners were no longer following their usual routines. Whatever they were involved in, it was shrouded in mystery and unease.

Conversations buzzed about plant crossbreeding, turian pain thresholds, and even global starvation estimates. But the most intriguing whispers were about biotics—specifically with humans. The implications were vast and unsettling.

This sent a chill down her spine. Experimentation? Satima had mentioned the Hive and the Directive. Could this be the start of something sinister? The implications were terrifying.

Is Leviathan, the ancient Reaper-killer, pulling the strings from the shadows? Tali hurriedly opened the door to the medical wing where Dr. Garneau was last reported. Shepard's mind raced with possibilities; she hoped he held the answers to her long list of burning questions.

On the Normandy, Satima found herself drawn into the mesmerizing display of data and tactical schematics that flickered across Joker's console. His fingers danced over the controls with practiced ease, each tap bringing them closer to understanding the enigmatic situation on Mahavid.

"Wish you were down there?" Joker's voice broke through her reverie, laced with a hint of curiosity.

Satima glanced up, her eyes reflecting the swirling lights of the holo panels. "Yeah," she admitted, a touch of wistfulness in her tone. She couldn't help but feel a pang of longing to be amidst the action, to unravel the mysteries firsthand.

Joker pulled up a holo panel in front of Satima, a playful glint in his eye. "Wanna help?" The question hung in the air, an invitation to finally navigate the Normandy.

She looked at him, a smile spreading across her face.

Two hours later.

Shepard and the small boarding crew returned, their faces etched with the intensity of the mission. Shedding her gear and holstering her weapons had become almost mechanical. Gear up and go, come back and... It was a relentless cycle.

As she stepped out of the elevator, Shepard spotted Satima, who looked visibly relieved to see both her and Javik. There was a visible sense of tension, but also a spark of hope in the air.

"Javik! You've got to see this!" Satima called out, her excitement was evident as she jogged towards him.

"This better be worth my time, hybrid.", he said as he followed her back inside the elevator.

As Shepard observed the interaction between Satima and Javik, a sense of curiosity and unease settled over her. What had Satima discovered that caused such a reaction from the usually stoic Prothean?

She refocused on the ominous words of the man who portrayed himself as Garneau. "Turn back. The darkness cannot be breached." His foreboding message was meant to deter, but for Shepard, it was a call to action. The war against the Reapers was too crucial to be swayed by fear or uncertainty.

In the core room, Satima practically shoved the datapad in Javik's face, her excitement barely contained. "Look! I've found it! Right here is a power conduit linked to three different systems, all connecting to an outlet. This could be the key to stopping the Reapers once and for all. Now all I've got to do is figure out how Shepard can use it."

Javik's eyes narrowed, a mix of skepticism and curiosity evident. "This is impressive, hybrid, but..."

"What?", she said anxiously.

"Her fate is sealed in a way you cannot change," he said, handing the datapad back to her, his voice carrying a weight that sent shivers down her spine.

Satima looked confused and hurt. "The Reapers won't win this time. I know you've seen her fate, but I can prevent it!"

Javik sensed the depth of Satima's defiance, a reflection of her desperate hope. A silent sorrow flickered in his eyes, acknowledging the weight of her determination. "Then ensure that they do not." With a heavy heart, he turned away, leaving Satima alone in the core room, her resolve clashing against an impending sense of doom.

Her cube floated around her as she dropped the datapad on the floor. For some reason, his words sounded hopeless. An overwhelming sense of dread began to settle in her chest. The weight of unchanging fate pressed down on her, suffocating her hope. She felt a cold shiver run down her spine as the realization of their predicament took hold. The Reapers’ shadow loomed large, and for the first time, Satima felt truly powerless against the tide of destiny.

...........

In the war room, Garrus awaited Shepard with a mix of anticipation and worry. She finally arrived fresh from her debrief with Hackett about the ominous findings on Mahavid.

"What did you find out?", Garrus asked curious.

Shepard crossed her arms and stared straight into the war room, her eyes hard with determination. They convened in private on the vid-coms. "The miners we encountered were under Leviathan's thrall. It wields the same mind-controlling power as the Reapers."

Garrus listened to her speak, noting how tired she looked. "Of course, we met opposition from the reapers themselves. It wasn't easy but we were able to reach Garneau, or at least we thought it was Garneau."

"Who was it?", he asked.

"Someone else posing as him, under the enthrallment from Leviathan. We found the real body near the artifact. A sphere that had an inner glow, like how the galaxy's map looks, but darker. It said to, "turn back, the darkness cannot be breached", before blowing itself and a lot of husks up."

Shepard, feeling the weight of the mission, rubbed her neck to relieve the tension. Garrus stepped closer, his eyes filled with concern. "I can help with that," he offered, his voice a blend of confidence and warmth.

Shepard couldn't help but smile at his earnestness. "And if I wasn't so busy, I'd take you up on that offer. But we have work to do first. Keep the thought in mind for later," she teased, winking as she walked out. Garrus clicked his mandibles in anticipation, already looking forward to their next moment of respite.

................................................
Citadel-Bryson's Lab

Back at the citadel, Shepard and EDI revisited Bryson's lab. There were clues needed to find his daughter, Ann. The same spherical artifact was in the lab all along.

Shepard wanted it shielded to prevent anyone else from falling under its sinister influence. She turned to EDI, questioning why they hadn't succumbed to its power. EDI hypothesized that the limited exposure time played a crucial role in their resistance.

Leviathan had manipulated Hadley to shield itself, a testament to its formidable power and cunning strategy. Shepard couldn't shake the unease of dealing with such an enigmatic and potent force. As EDI hypothesized, despite the inherent risks, this artifact might be their crucial link to uncovering Leviathan's secrets. Shepard's instincts reeled against it, but she knew they had no choice but to follow this dark trail.

Some clues pointed to nothing more than regular research. Basic analysis that proved nothing relevant. Bryson's assistant destroyed all backups before killing him, however, EDI noted that new messages had arrived on Bryson's personal comm terminal.

Shepard took the stairs to the bedroom. It was a message from his daughter, Ann. EDI also noted she worked with her father.

"I'm at the dig-site in the Pylos Nebula. Project Scarab paid off. I got another artifact like the one Garneau found. I think it could be affecting people's behavior.

You need to shield the one in your office. I tried to warn Garneau, but I can't get through. We've got Reaper scouts coming in toward the main site. I'm heading to the secondary base to grab what research I can."
The vid-comm ended. Ann sounded worried. Shepard and EDI both agreed that impending Reaper forces would be very worrisome.

They needed to find more clues, but this time, to find where Ann is, exactly. Time was running out fast. Shepard looked through Ann's work history only to find nothing relevant.

A list of ships was recorded on a computer nearby, but they need the name of the ship she used. Shepard asked about an update on Hadley, the assistant, upon seeing the shielded artifact.

EDI replied that he is in a vegetative state and is unlikely to ever recover. That was troubling. Leviathan killed Hadley to cover his tracks. Too late now.

The miners were finally freed from their enthrallment. EDI speculated it was a calculated move by Leviathan to silence Hadley during the interrogation—an act of chilling cruelty.

Shepard's diligent search led her to discover an access card tucked away in a drawer. EDI swiftly identified it as the key to the requisition's locker, the very locker Ann had used to gather equipment for project Scarab.

Shepard retraced her steps through the expansive lab, her eyes scanning for any overlooked clues. A gleam caught her attention, and she picked up a data pad. It displayed the recent travel logs of the lab's personnel. Garneau had traveled using the MSV Kirkwall, while Ann had chosen the MSV Icarus.

"Interesting," Shepard murmured, noting the disparity in their chosen vessels. EDI's voice chimed in, "The Icarus is significantly more expensive, likely required for a relay jump to another system."

The commander's mind raced with possibilities. Ann's choice of the Icarus suggested a deliberate and urgent journey, hinting at the importance of her destination.

Shepard's fingers danced over the galaxy map, her gaze intent on the crucial data before her. With a swift command, the information was transmitted to the Normandy, every second ticking with an urgency that mirrored the weight of their mission. She wasted no time, her mind sharp and ready to unravel the mystery that lay ahead.

Chapter Text

The planet Namakli.

Garrus and EDI accompanied Shepard to track down Ann Bryson. As they approached the shuttle, Satima waited, her posture tense with anticipation. "Shepard, do you mind if I join you?" Her voice was steady, eyes locked onto the Commander, unwavering and resolute.

Shepard paused, considering the request. This mission was critical, and every decision carried weight.

"Promise me you'll follow orders and keep up?" Shepard demanded; a playful smirk dancing on her lips.

Satima's eyes flicked to Garrus, a blend of uncertainty and determination in her gaze, remembering his accusations and unexpected apology. "Promise," she replied, her voice steady, accompanied by a confident smile that hinted at newfound resolve.

Garrus gave her a reassuring nod, but Satima's eyes darted around, avoiding his. Trust would take time to rebuild, he knew that much. As they prepared for their mission to uncover the Leviathan of Dis, Garrus couldn't help but reflect on the gravity of their quest and the cryptic warnings that had led them here.

They piled inside the shuttle, the confined space buzzing with unspoken tension. Garrus kept his distance from Satima, respecting her need for space. Shepard noticed his careful attitude, a silent acknowledgment of the immense stress they all faced under the relentless pressure of the reapers.

Garrus began pacing in front of everyone. An odd feeling stirred his tactical thoughts. "So, we got reports of an attack on an excavation site?", he asked.

Shepard observed him, turning to EDI. "Right. EDI, can you tell us anything else?"

"This is the main site of a series of excavations established under Dr. Garret Bryson. Staff records confirm the project lead is his daughter, Ann. She has recently uncovered another artifact possibly linked to Leviathan. That discovery must have made this dig site a target.", EDI concluded.

Shepard looked at Satima and Garrus, then back to EDI, determination gleaming in her eyes. "Yes, the attack means the reapers are one step ahead of us. We need to pick up the pace. And since Bryson's daughter is our only lead, time is of the essence. Cortez, let's move!"

Garrus nodded, his mandibles flaring with a sense of urgency. "We can't afford to lose any more ground. Ann Bryson could hold the key to turning the tide."

Shepard's gaze was steely, her voice resolute. "Exactly. EDI, keep us updated on any changes. Let's stay sharp, everyone. This mission could be the turning point in our fight against the reapers."

Cortez's voice crackled over the comms. "Understood, Commander. Preparing for descent."

He scanned the area during descent. "No visual contact yet, Commander. If she's down there, she's not answering our hails. However, I'm picking up some peculiar signals. Give me a moment." Cortez's fingers flew across the holo panels, displaying their location, coordinates, and all incoming signals from the surface. Something seemed off, and a sense of unease began to creep in as the shuttle drew closer to its destination.

EDI verbally noted an issue. "The artifact she uncovered may have caused additional complications."

"Agreed. Take us in closer.", Shepard ordered. If the reapers are here, a major complication could cause plenty of obstacles. She'll need to get to Ann quickly, before they do.

"Copy that.", Cortex replied.

As the shuttle flew closer to the excavation site, many Harvesters hovered above, firing down on the helpless facility. Giant flames engulfed whole habitat compartments built into the side of the mountain.
Cortez couldn't believe the destruction he was witnessing. "We have hostiles!", he yelled.

"Take us in!" Shepard's voice was a sharp command, cutting through the tension that thickened the air. She turned to the small cockpit, her eyes locked on Cortez, who deftly maneuvered the shuttle away from the hot zone.

"Commander! On the landing platform!", Cortez pointed. They hovered in front of the main lab. Ann and an assistant looked at them through the large windows.

Damn structural weaknesses, Shepard thought. "That's her!", she shouted.

Ann motioned for the shuttle, "Attention, shuttle! This is Dr. Ann Bryson! We are under attack!"

"No SHIT!," Satima muttered under her breath. Garrus shot her a sharp look, urging her to focus. Shepard stayed calm, laser-focused on the mission ahead. "Alright, let's move..."

Suddenly, the shuttle jolted violently as a Harvester's shot connected with its hull. "Damn it!" Cortez shouted, gripping the controls tightly to keep the shuttle steady amidst the chaos.

"Let me take the controls!" Satima demanded, her anxiety visible as alarms blared around them within the cramped shuttle.

"Absolutely not!" Shepard and Garrus bellowed in unison, their voices cutting through the cacophony of alarms and gunfire.

Cortez pressed panels, trying to stabilize the shuttle and flee the area. "Tracking multiple bogeys!"

"Get us over there!", Shepard pointed to another landing platform.

"Negative. That one's too hot! Heading to a lower platform-hang on!", Cortez yelled.

"Perfect!", Satima shouted as she gripped a lever over the hatch door.
Garrus and Shepard clung to each other, their grips tight as the shuttle bucked and weaved. EDI remained still, exuding an aura of unshakable confidence amidst the turmoil.

The shuttle hurtled toward the platform, engines roaring and alarms blaring. Satima, with a determined look, yanked open the hatch door, feeling the rush of wind and danger. Shepard surged forward, gripping her arm. "Move out! GO!"

With a swift and decisive push, Shepard sent Satima tumbling onto the platform below. EDI and Garrus followed quickly, their movements fluid and practiced despite the chaos. Shepard was the last to leap, her timing impeccable as she narrowly avoided missing the ledge. The team landed in a crouch, ready for the next pulse-pounding moment of their mission.

Satima rubbed her arm, a mixture of annoyance and relief in her eyes. "Next time, maybe just a warning first?" she quipped.

Shepard glared at Satima. Above, the Harvesters relentlessly pursued the retreating shuttle, their ominous shadows casting over the platform.
Suddenly, a shot from one of the Harvesters blasted the edge of the platform, sending debris flying. "We can't stay here, Shepard!" Garrus shouted, urgency dripping from his every word.

Shepard nodded, her mind racing to formulate their next move amidst the chaos.

Dashing through the chaos, they sprinted toward a nearby habitat module, the ground beneath them trembling with each impact from the Harvesters' relentless assault. "This place won't hold up for long. Poor bastards," Satima muttered, her eyes darting to the charred remnants of the battlefield.

"Hello? Is anyone there? I'm coming down!" That was Ann.

Shepard sprang onto a grated walkway that groaned ominously under her weight. She quickly assessed its stability, then beckoned the rest to dash across, urgency and determination etched into her features.

They all stood on top of a habitat, jumping down to another walkway below. "No! Stay where you are! This is Commander Shepard of the Alliance Navy-it's too dangerous! We'll come to you!", Shepard yelled over comms.

Shepard ran over a falling habitats roof, leading everyone into a stable compartment. Husks climbed one beside it. "Yes, okay! You should take the elevator up in the far side!", Ann said.

"Copy that! We're on our way!", Shepard meleed a husk coming towards her. Several habitats lined up below this one. They dropped once, into the lower area. "Through here!", Shepard shouted.

"Commander, they're swarming everywhere up here!", Ann shouted over comms.

Shepard took cover beside a beam, firing on cannibals that blocked the path. "Can you find a place to hide?", she yelled.

"I'll try!", Ann's voice echoed.

"Stay put!", Shepard commanded, leaping off the upper habitat's roof, landing with a crushing blow on a dying cannibal. Her team followed closely, their weapons blazing, cutting down husks and stray cannibals alike. The air was filled with the roars of the Harvesters overhead, and the ground shook as they dashed through the collapsing modules, each step a race against time.

A ravager detonated the stairwell right in front of them, sending debris flying. "Dammit!", Satima shouted, frustration evident in her voice.

"Can't go that way now.", Garrus said. Shepard looked around, spotted a ladder leading further up on the rooftops. After climbing up they jumped to a nearby cliff. "Looks like a bridge over there!", Shepard shouted, pointing.

Satima's eyes widened as she noticed the strange, almost cryptic paintings etched into the rock wall at the bridge controls. The dark lines and eerie symbols unmistakably depicted a Reaper, sending a shiver down her spine.

"The controls are broken! Someone fix it!", Shepard shouted her orders.

"Right away!", Garrus replied with unwavering determination. Satima couldn't help but notice the swift obedience, a glint of admiration flickering in her eyes.

EDI's eyes glowed with a cold, analytical light as she scanned their surroundings with uncanny precision, her movements fluid yet calculated. There was a palpable tension in the air, each of Shepard's team members feeling the weight of their mission.

Garrus worked furiously on the controls, "Some wires are shorted. Shouldn't take much to fix it. Give me a second," he said, his voice steady amidst the chaos. Suddenly, a horde of husks crashed down in front of them like a meteor shower, their guttural growls filling the air.

The team was nearly overwhelmed. Shepard's rifle barked in rapid succession, each shot a precise, lethal blow. EDI and Satima fought with fierce determination, their movements a deadly dance of melee strikes, keeping the husks at bay.

"Almost done!", he shouted nervously.

"Banshee! Commander!", EDI yelled. She began to fire with her pistol.

Garrus, with a final tweak, completed the bridge controls. He spun around, unleashing a torrent of bullets at the advancing abominations. Satima, utilizing the terrain, took cover behind a jagged rock formation, her eyes scanning for the next threat.

As the banshee closed in with lightning speed, its biotic warp crackling through the air, Satima's eyes locked onto a cluster of explosive canisters. "There!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos. Without hesitation, she fired, the explosion sending the monstrous creature reeling. EDI, with her uncanny precision, joined in, targeting the remaining canisters and creating a chain reaction of blasts.

Shepard, stationed at the bridge controls, provided cover fire with unwavering accuracy, each shot finding its mark. The banshee screeched in fury, its advance momentarily halted by the onslaught. "Keep it up!" Shepard urged, her voice a beacon of determination amidst the din of battle.

With the banshee dead, they all turned to the bridge. It finally came up for them to cross. "Move! That elevator can't be far!", Shepard roared as they all ran.

Up another habitat roof, down the ladder to a catwalk. "This way.", Shepard informed. The elevator was only a few steps further.

Shepard ran to press the panel. It started to descend, until it reached the lower damaged beams. "Ann, the elevator's blocked! Is there another way up?", Shepard asked in a hurry.

"I'll override the pod door near you! There's an access point above Commander, but you'll have to climb it!", Ann replied.

Shepard kicked open the pod door, "Copy that." They navigated through the pod, their path blocked by a broken stairwell and an unstable grated catwalk. The relentless battle against the cannibals and husks within the pods drained their energy, but their resolve remained unbroken.

The reapers' onslaught was fierce, but Shepard's team fought back with equal ferocity, refusing to yield.

Pushing through, Satima saw more of the reaper paintings. This was getting eerie.

They reached the final cliff, climbing to meet husks and a brute. "There are more explosive canisters. Use them!", Satima yelled.

The brute came crashing through the husks, stomping any in its way. Garrus sniped its armor down, allowing Satima and Shepard to blow the canisters around it.

EDI use her decoy ability to fool the brute into running in the direct area of the blasts. Finally, they brought the giant down. "Ann? Are you still there?", Shepard asked.

"We're barely hanging on! Hopkins is wounded! Are you close?", she replied, her voice fearful.

As they proceeded forward, the huge platform above got hit. It started to collapse. "Heads up! That platforms coming down!", Garrus shouted.
"Around. Go around!", Shepard yelled to them.

Ann's voice crackled over the comms, urgent and filled with dread. "Stay down!" she shouted, her warning cutting through the chaos, but the team pressed on, undeterred by her plea. Shepard, sensing the tension, demanded an update. "Ann, report!" she barked, her tone a blend of impatience and concern.

"People are dying," Ann replied, her voice hollow with the weight of loss. "They're dropping like flies out there."

Shepard's grip tightened around her rifle. "Hold your position, Ann.”
"Elevator's online. Coming up.", Shepard informed.

"Please hurry. I think Hopkins is dead.", Ann replied, upset.

They finally reach the pod containing Ann. She looked over the dead body of Hopkins. Shepard walked in with the team in tow as Ann glanced to Shepard, "He tried to run. I told him not to, but he wanted to help the others. Where did everyone go?"

Shepard knelt close to Ann as Satima watched. EDI and Garrus took point as lookouts. "I'm sorry. They didn't make it. Doctor, I need you to come with me."

"Oh, God. Yes, of course.", Ann stood up. Garrus opened the pod door, taking point. Shepard led out second with EDI and Satima keeping Ann between them.

For the first time, Satima felt the weight of responsibility shift as she prioritized the safety of others over her own. The sensation was peculiar, yet deeply satisfying. It invigorated her, knowing she was an essential part of a cohesive team, fighting valiantly to protect those who couldn't fend for themselves in this dire situation.

Garrus took cover behind a control panel. Shepard and Ann stopped by a boulder, crouching behind it. Satima, along with EDI watched their backs. "I... was at another dig site when they attacked. I got back as quick as I could, but... what's happening?", Ann asked confused.

Her own quick glances reminding Shepard of a nervous child.

Shepard looked at Ann before Garrus caught her attention. "Shepard, look.", he said. Above him were paintings of several cave-man people fighting. They had what looked to be spears in their hands. Ann pointed at an image of a reaper that hovered above them.

Shepard glanced to Ann and back to the cave wall. "I'm not sure, but it might have something to do with these paintings. Is that Leviathan?"

"Yes... yes, we think so. It's so old. Much older than my father thought. And there, as if the natives were under its power.", Ann gestured to the wall. "Clearly a reaper, but acting alone. Not like any reaper we've seen before."

Shepard turned to Satima, who was still fixated on the surreal paintings. "Satima, have you seen anything like this before?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and urgency.

The hybrid turned to Shepard, eyes flickering with a mix of intrigue and hesitation. "No," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Shepard glared a moment but went back to her questions for Ann. "Doctor, I understand you found something recently."

"The artifact. Yes, of course. Incredible. It's just ahead.", she pointed.
Shepard led the way. Ann began talking again. EDI and Satima kept close watch on the reapers above. "It may sound strange, but I'm certain it affects people-their behavior. I've only had a short time to study it.", Ann continued.

"Not strange at all. Did you find anything?", Shepard asked.

They walked closer to the artifact, down the rocky opening. "Not much, but I did learn something about the energy it generates.", Ann said.

Up ahead, they could hear reapers. "Get down!", Shepard voiced. They all took cover. Ahead, a marauder was attempting to communicate with an orb. A constant flash of energy was being pulled from it.

"What're they doing?", Shepard asked aloud.

Ann peaked on, "They've activated it somehow. I've never managed anything-" Ann stopped speaking. She stepped forward with a blank expression to her face. Shepard watched confused, "Doctor?"

A dark voice, not Ann's own, spoke to them. "They've learned too well. The darkness must not be breached..."

EDI yelled, "Shepard!"

Shepard had grabbed Ann's arm in an attempt to shake her out of it.
Satima watched on in complete horror. It sounded similar to the voice in the HIVE station, the grey haze that ordered her to kill Reaper.

Shepard realized Leviathan wouldn't break its hold. She shouted to Garrus, "Take it out!" He stood from cover, aiming at the glowing orb. It exploded with a loud boom, killing all the reaper forces that surrounded it.
Ann fell forward. "You okay? Cortez, we have Ann Bryson! Need a pickup!", Shepard yelled in her comms.

"On my way, Commander!", Cortez replied.

Ann stood up, shaking her sore head. Shepard looked around the area. Reapers still swarmed the sky above them. "Copy that! You see the shuttle, you run. Don't look back!" Ann nodded. "Okay. Yes."

The rocky platform below them had cannibals crawling all over. More explosive canisters littered the area. The reapers had boxed in the landing platform, but Shepard was determined to carve a path for them to escape.

A harvester landed on the platform. "You need to get rid of that Harvester, or I can't land!", Cortez shouted.

"Noted!", Satima yelled, irritated.

Shepard and Satima unleashed a barrage of firepower, relentlessly pushing back the Harvester threatening to overwhelm them. Satima's quick thinking and explosive expertise blew the canisters, creating a fiery distraction, while Shepard's sharpshooting prowess stripped away the abomination's armored plating.

Garrus and EDI picked off stray cannibals with deadly accuracy, their combined efforts creating a brief respite amid the chaos. Just as the Harvester crumbled under their assault, a new wave of husks swarmed over the ridge, their grotesque forms illuminated by the flickering flames. Ravagers, their ominous silhouettes casting long shadows, descended around them, adding to the relentless onslaught.

"Okay, Cortez get in here!", Shepard shouted.

"Copy that, Commander!", Cortez yelled as he landed the shuttle. "Hurry!", he said. EDI took Ann with her to the shuttle, while Satima provided cover fire. Garrus stayed with Shepard. "Go!", she roared.

Garrus took off, glancing behind to see Shepard finish off a cannibal. Husks ran after her. "Come on Shepard!", he yelled anxiously.

Satima jumped back out of the shuttle firing on the husks, so Shepard could get a clear path. They all hurried into the shuttle together, taking off. Everyone sat down, catching their breath. Shepard stood in the middle, observing her team. She looked to Ann, "You okay?"

"Yeah, Commander. I think so. I blacked out.", Ann replied.

"Leviathan took control of you. We cut the connection before you got hurt.", Shepard informed.

'Before you would try to kill us or indoctrinate us...", Satima muttered too loudly.

Shepard glanced at her quickly, nodding a no to her. Satima looked away. Ann decided it was an inside matter. She thought about what Shepard said. Leviathan taking over? "Leviathan itself?", she said out loud, "That's incredible."

"The Reapers seem as interested in it a we are.", Shepard said.

Ann leaned forward in her seat, "Yeah, it certainly seems that way."

Shepard paced in the shuttle. "We were hoping you could help us figure out why. But first, Doctor, I have some bad news." Ann perked up, a twitch of nervousness in her eye. Shepard didn't like bringing bad news to people, but it seemed lately it was becoming a habit.

"Ann, please. Suppose Leviathan's broken away from the other reapers? Never went back to dark space? Like a rogue or even a defector." She was skirting the issue. " I'll have to call my father. He'll want to know." Ann started her call.

Shepard knelt in front of Ann, her voice soft but firm. "Ann, you need to listen to me," she said, her eyes filled with sorrow. "Your father is gone. I'm so sorry."

Ann looked confused. "He's... what, dead? He can't be dead." She leaned forward again, her eyes began to water.

"We met with him, hoping to find out what he knew. Something happened.", Shepard said.

"Something happened?", Ann repeated.

Shepard sighed, glancing downward, then back to Ann. "You're not the first to lose control. Your father's assistant. One minute he was fine, the next-he drew a gun on your father. I couldn't stop him." Shepard stood back up, pacing the shuttle.

"I can't believe this.", Ann stood as well.

"We have to find out what's behind it all. You're the only one who can help us.", Shepard glared at Satima before turning back to Ann.

There was a silence in the shuttle. Shepard watched Ann's face. "Ann?", she said.

"I... I want to see his office.", her voice trembled with the weight of the revelation of her father's passing.

"We'll arrange for transportation and meet you there.", Shepard said.

..............................................................
As the Normandy soared into Citadel space, it felt like a momentary sanctuary amid the chaos. Ann departed in an Alliance shuttle, her figure shrinking into the distance as she headed back to the station. Shepard remained aboard, her mind racing with questions. She spent the day meticulously analyzing EDI's scans of the rock wall paintings, each symbol a potential clue they were unraveling.

Leviathan, Satima, and those mysterious orbs—they had to be intertwined in some way. The pieces of the puzzle were tantalizingly close, yet just out of reach, like shadows in a darkened room.

What if the supposed Sentarians are actually the Reapers? Satima's unique genetic makeup couldn't be mere coincidence—it had to be deliberate. But for whose purpose was she created? The Reapers?

Hours later, Shepard and EDI returned back to Bryson's lab. Ann awaited them there. The lab seemed empty when they went inside. No one was around.

Shepard looked, finding Ann in her father's room. She had been crying. "Oh, Commander. Yes, I'm sorry. Just... this is hard.", Ann wiped her eyes.

"Of course. Are you, all right?", Shepard asked, concerned.

Ann looked up from her position on the floor, at the foot of her father's bed. "Yes. No. I don't know." She sighed. "My father and I didn't leave things in a great state."

"An argument?", Shepard asked.

"Yes. It was trivial. A disagreement on how to file some of the specimens. I was mad about something else. I don't remember what. I took it out on him. So stupid.", Ann stood up.

"It's alright. I can come back.", Shepard offered with a shrug.

"No, please. I'm okay.", Ann walked to her.

They spent the next few minutes immersed in conversation about her father. Ann's eyes sparkled with a mix of nostalgia and sorrow as she recounted his relentless drive and passion as a scientist, often lost in the labyrinth of his own mind. Despite his occasional distance, the stories he shared ignited a fire within her, inspiring her to follow in his scientific footsteps.

Ann often felt like an inconvenience growing up. Her voice carried a tinge of bitterness as she spoke about her father. "I was always so angry at him," she admitted, her eyes flashing with a mixture of frustration and sorrow.

She cherished his stories, for they made their little family unique and fueled her own passion for science. "I can't believe he's gone," Ann murmured, her voice heavy with grief.

"We'll find what he was looking for. I promise.", Shepard assured.

Ann turned to Shepard from her father's picture. "We have to. I need to know what's on the other end of that artifact, what he died for."

"We need your help. You're our last chance.", Shepard repeated.

Ann nodded, "You're right. Let me dig into my father's work to see what I can find."

Ann's eyes brightened for a moment as she delved into her father's theories. "He always believed the rachni's communication was more than just sound—it was like quantum entanglement," she explained, her excitement palpable. "He marveled at how they could synchronize thoughts and actions across vast distances, as if they were one mind."
"He called it a 'quantum web,' where each rachni was a node, and their collective consciousness was the web itself." Ann's voice grew animated as she shared her father's passion, the grief momentarily lifting. "He believed this principle could unlock secrets far beyond our understanding."

She excitedly mentioned that Leviathan's use of the artifact was similar, orchestrating a mental connection that could bend the will of anyone in its proximity. "Can you imagine?" Ann continued, a spark of curiosity illuminating her grief-stricken face. "A power so immense, it could weave minds together, controlling them like pieces on a cosmic chessboard."

As Shepard and Ann stepped into the galaxy lab, Satima and James were deep in discussion behind the counter, their voices a low hum of excitement. James looked up and spotted them, a grin spreading across his face. "Hey, Lola. Need a hand?" he called out, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"What brings you down here, James?", Shepard asked.

"Heard you're closing in on the reaper killer. Anything that can scare those bastards has to be worth a look.", he replies.

"That's what I'm hoping.", Shepard answers.

Shepard raised an eyebrow at Satima. "Curiosity got the better of you?" she teased, a playful smirk dancing on her lips.

Satima toyed with the husk's head, her fingers tracing its jagged edges. "Maybe," she replied with a mischievous glint in her eye. "I came to help, after all."

Shepard nodded at Satima, but her guard was up. Satima's recent behavior had been erratic, her movements sharp and jittery, like a cornered animal. Shepard couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.

She stares quickly at the orb then at Ann Bryson. Something she said before about indoctrination. Ann spoke to Shepard which doused the wild thoughts quickly.

"We didn't detect any energy emissions from the artifact.", Shepard told Ann.

EDI came from the other lab, "But the Reapers were able to use the artifact to trace Leviathan somehow."

"My theory is that, most of the time, the artifact simply acts as a receiver.", Ann begins walking toward the barrier secured orb. "We'll only be able to trace Leviathan through it when it actively takes control of someone."

"As it did on the asteroid.", EDI said.

Satima and James walk to them, listening in closely.

"Right. Unless it needs something, Leviathan doesn't bother communicating. I guess it and my father had something in common.", Ann reminded.

"You said Leviathan's control was similar to a quantum entanglement communicator, which is untraceable.", EDI informed.

Ann turned to EDI, "Yes, but this isn't a natural QEC. Leviathan has to send a pulse through the artifact to alter your mind and create the quasi-QEC effect." Ann walked to the galaxy map.

"And that can be traced.", EDI said.

Everyone gathered around the map as Satima stood close to the glass case. The orb within the barrier pulsed lightly, sending a wave of intense nausea through her body, which fortunately passed quickly. No one else seemed to notice her reaction. A fierce urge to destroy the orb bubbled inside her. Satima could easily break the glass and smash it into tiny pieces. They didn't need the unpredictable dangers of Leviathan. This... Reaper killer.

Shepard is the reaper killer, not it. Suddenly, a chill ran down Satima's spine. A creeping darkness began to probe her mind. The barrier should've stopped it, right? She backed away, her heart pounding as she wondered if those thoughts were Leviathan's attempt to thwart their mission. She fought to maintain her composure, but the ominous presence lingered, casting a shadow over the room.

Satima turned her attention to the small group huddled around the galaxy map, their voices blending into a symphony of strategic discussions. They were dissecting the signal similarities from the reaper-occupied dig site, each word heavy with urgency and determination. Shepard stood poised, waiting for Ann to complete her findings, her gaze sharp and focused.
James, always the joker, couldn't resist interrupting. "You know, I'd love to add that husk's head to my collection in the cargo bay," he quipped, earning a round of chuckles.

But amidst the camaraderie and planning, Satima's unease simmered beneath the surface, threatening to boil over.

This is insanity. Do they not sense the danger? Satima wanted to scream. Every fiber in her being was on edge, ready to explode.

Shepard approached Ann again, "Ann, I know this is hard, but if there's anything more you can tell us..."

Ann backed away from the map console," I don't think there's anything more I can tell you." She looked at Shepard with an idea. "But maybe I can show you."

"What are you saying?", Shepard asked.

"The artifact only sends out a signal when Leviathan's controlling someone. So, let it control me. You could trace the signal.", Ann suggested.

Satima stepped forward, her voice trembling with urgency, "Absolutely not! That thing is too dangerous!"

Shepard glared at her then turned back to Ann. "You mean let it take you over? I agree with Satima. It's reckless."

Ann leaned forward, angry. "It's my call, not yours. You said I'm your last chance to find this thing."

"We have no idea what will happen.", Shepard cautioned.

"If we wait, the reapers will get to Leviathan first. I'm the only one here who's spent enough time with it to do this.", Ann walked back to the orb behind the case. "You're looking for something to fight the Reapers, Commander. I'm looking for the monster that murdered my father."

Shepard followed, "We still don't know what we're looking for."

"Then let's find out.", Ann turned back to the orb.

"This is a bad idea.", Satima complained.

James stepped forward, "Commander, this thing we're doing with Ann... sounds dangerous as hell."

"Noted. EDI?", Shepard spoke.

EDI waited at the galaxy map, typing in commands on the console, "Energy signature locked in. Waiting for activation."

Ann seated herself on a small metal bench in front of the orb, her eyes smoldering with determination. Shepard studied her carefully. "Are you absolutely sure about this?" she asked, her voice tinged with concern. Ann lifted her gaze, first to Shepard and then to the alien girl standing behind her. "Yes, I'm certain," she replied, her voice unwavering.

James prepared himself behind Ann, in case anything went wrong. "I'm gonna be right here.", he assured her.

Satima remained close to Shepard, her senses heightened and her hand gripping a concealed blade. She knew all too well the peril of indoctrination—the way it could twist a person into a lethal weapon. Every muscle in her body tensed, ready to spring into action at the slightest sign of danger.

"Okay, I'm ready," Ann declared, her voice resolute and unwavering.

Shepard commanded James to lower the containment shield. As EDI confirmed the artifact had come online, the tension in the room was palpable. The orb began to glow with swirling dark blues, casting an eerie light that danced across their faces. Everyone felt a mix of apprehension and anticipation, uncertain of what revelations awaited them. The air seemed to hum with an electric expectation, each breath taken with bated breath. What truths would the orb unveil, and what dangers lurked within its depths?

"Anything?", Shepard asked.

"Nothing yet. Wait. There's something. I feel a chill..." The orb sprang to life. Ann started to shudder, then her body began to thrash violently. James held on firmly but carefully. Shepard looked to EDI for any confirmation of the signal, but EDI reported that no trace could be found yet.

Satima watched, her eyes wide with fear. The room felt charged, every second stretching into an eternity as they waited for the orb to reveal its secrets.

"Holy Hell!", James yelled as Ann's body suddenly became stronger.
Immediately, EDI found the signal. "Signal is tracking. Maintain connection."

A dark voice echoed from Ann. "Turn back... The darkness cannot be breached." Shepard shook a feeling of dread, keeping her courage strong.

Satima's heart pounded wildly in her chest. Old, terrifying memories clawed their way back into her mind.

Something or someone was dredging up her past memories, prying them open like old wounds. An awful chill gripped her, making her teeth chatter uncontrollably. She had always detested the cold. Suddenly, the room vanished, swallowed by a cold abyss, leaving her standing alone in the darkness.

Satima's body seized as a silent scream tore through her soul. The overwhelming dread consumed her, filling her mind with a suffocating loneliness and a burning rage she had never known. An all-encompassing anger gripped her heart, freezing her in place as the abyss threatened to swallow her whole.

Then it was all over. Satima stood back with the group as they fought Ann's enthralled mind.

"Dios!", James shouted.

Shepard paced in front of them. "Listen to me. I found you. And the reapers are right behind me."

"You have brought them. You are a threat.", Leviathan spoke.

Shepard stepped forward, "So are you. I've seen what you can do. The war needs you."

"There is no war. There is only the harvest.", Leviathan replied.

Shepard turned to the galaxy map, "EDI, do we have enough?"

"Partial lock. Maintain connection to narrow the search.", EDI said.

James continued to struggle with Ann, he was getting frustrated. "You heard her. We got enough. I'm hitting the shield."

"Do it.", Shepard shouted.

James let go of his free hand and shut the shield back on. Ann was freed from Leviathan. She shook her head, rubbing her temples hard.

An obvious pain had begun. Both James and Shepard knelt beside her. "Ann? Ann, are you alright?", Shepard asked, concerned.

"Yes... I think so.", she replied.

James stayed with Ann as Shepard returned to the galaxy map. "Did we get anything?", she asked EDI.

"Yes, but it will take some time to search. Coordinates sent to the Normandy.", EDI informed.

Shepard leaned on the console, overlooking the map. "Good. It's a start."

Ann stood up. "Commander, I sensed something else. Anger."

"It knows we're getting close.", Shepard said.

Ann got close to Shepard, "I think it wants to kill you."

Shepard shook her head, not giving it much thought. "Come on, let's get you some help.

As Shepard led Ann to the bedroom upstairs, Satima and the doctor exchanged knowing glances. Ann's eyes widened in a mix of fear and realization. She knows something, thought Satima, her instincts sharpening. But the doctor remained silent, her expression unreadable.

It was time to leave before this fool revealed whatever Leviathan had shown her. Satima couldn't shake the feeling of urgency creeping up her spine. She had to get out, and fast.

Chapter Text

The Deep

Their destination was the ocean world Desponia, rumored to be the hiding place of the elusive Leviathan. Satima's mind raced with vivid images of the so-called reaper killer. Was it a monstrous beast from the deep, or something more akin to Shepard herself? The tension in the shuttle was palpable as they approached their mysterious quarry.

Shepard had gathered her crew and painted a picture of the perilous journey that lay ahead. Her voice echoed through the shuttle, instilling both apprehension and determination among her team. They knew the stakes of their mission were high, but the prospect of encountering the legendary Leviathan fueled their resolve.

Shepard handpicked Garrus and Ashley to join her on this pivotal mission, but it was Satima's determination that captured her attention. Since their tense encounter in the core room and Satima's fierce opposition to the orb's use, the air between them had been thick with unspoken words. This mission could be the catalyst that shattered her silence.

The commander ordered a probe launch, its sleek frame cutting through the atmosphere with precision. The team watched as it descended, slicing through the turbulent ocean waves until it vanished into the depths below. EDI's calm voice provided updates, each word heightening the anticipation that crackled through the shuttle. With a nod from Shepard, the team quickly boarded the Kodiak, ready to face whatever mysteries Desponia's hidden depths would reveal.

As the shuttle soared through the turbulent atmosphere, Satima’s gaze darted around the cabin, taking in the tense expressions of her crewmates. The anticipation was a tangible force, wrapping around each of them like an invisible shroud. Shepard stood at the helm, her eyes sharp and unwavering, embodying the strength and determination that had carried them through countless battles.

The shuttle shuddered as it descended, breaking through the final barrier of clouds. Satima could feel the adrenaline coursing through her veins, her senses heightened as they neared their destination.

If this Leviathan proved to be a formidable adversary, they would have no choice but to eliminate it. The thought brought a grim determination to Shepard's mind. Yet, even in its defeat, the Leviathan's remains could offer valuable insights. Perhaps within its carcass lay the secrets of its power against the reapers—a vital clue in their quest for peace.

Shepard looked around the cabin, thinking on how to convince Leviathan to side with her. Just long enough to eliminate the reapers. Bring peace back to the galaxy. She walked to Cortez as he navigated the shuttle to the planet.

"Cortez, what's the status on the probe we launched earlier?" Shepard's voice was a steely mix of authority and anticipation.

Cortez started to type away on the console, "Tracking it now, Commander. I've confirmed that Leviathan's signal originates from this planet." Cortez glanced to Shepard who was standing behind him, "Heard how Ann helped us locate it. It's pretty spooky stuff."

Garrus overheard the conversation, looking at Ashley, "Makes you wonder what we're going to find down there."

Ashley wondered too. She replied to him with equal curiosity, "Reaper-killer. Let's hope, anyway. Doesn't look like it wants to be found."

Satima's voice broke the heavy silence. "I've known only one other Reaper-killer," she said, her tone laced with tension. Her eyes flicked towards Shepard, mirroring the anxiety that rippled through the crew.

Shepard turned around, her gaze sweeping the cabin with intensity. She stepped up beside Cortez, her presence commanding the room. "It doesn't matter if it wants to cooperate or not. We're here, and it's going to listen," she declared, her voice unwavering.

Garrus walked to her, "Right, but then what? It plays pretty rough, and if it is a reaper, I don't know that's the kind of help we want."

Ashley nodded her head in agreement, her eyes narrowing with determination. Satima's gaze flickered nervously, a palpable tension hanging in the air. The weight of the mission pressed heavily on everyone's shoulders, the unknown dangers ahead making even the bravest among them feel uneasy. Cortez's fingers flew over the console, his face a mask of concentration.

Shepard needed to reassure them of her own intentions, and calm her lover's apprehensions on this mission. Garrus would follow her to hell and back. Really, he already has, but now... their relationship has developed more deeply than just a one-night romance.

Their long-time friendship had blossomed into a deep, unspoken bond, a commitment that surpassed mere engagement. The thought of losing each other now was unbearable, a torment neither could endure. Shepard's hand found Garrus's, squeezing it gently, a silent promise of unwavering support and love. A flicker of vulnerability crossed her eyes, but it was quickly replaced by steely determination. For this mission, for each other, they would face any danger head-on. "Nobody says we have to be friends with it, but if this thing has the rest of the reapers worried, then we need its help."

Cortez turned around in his seat to them, "Commander, new readings from the probe. It's narrowed down Leviathan's location. You're not going to like it."

Shepard quickly walked to him, "Let's hear it."

"There's nothing but ocean. I show a concentration of structures floating on the surface, but the probe's giving us a signal below that. Way below.", Cortez replied.

Shepard's mind raced, pondering the strangeness of the situation. With a hint of curiosity and determination in her voice, she posed another question, "Underwater?"

"Looks that way. The shuttle should still be able to reach it.", Cortez said.
The surface of the ocean on Desponia showed the unstable mess of submerged cruisers and other various star-ships.

Their upper hulls towered above the water like jutting rocks. Tide swept through the damaged aging metal, eroded daily by the ocean. A continuous rainfall covered the sky with dark clouds.

Back inside the shuttle, Shepard overlooked the consoles images on screen as Cortez navigated closer to a floating cruiser-starboard hull. "That's possible?", she asked.

"The Kodiak is specked to nearly a thousand atmospheres, though I've never actually tested that.", he replied.

Shepard hung on to the shuttles upper hull, finding a small niche in the metal working, as the shuttle shook from turbulence. "Guess we're going to find out-"

Suddenly, an immense EMP wave slammed into the Kodiak, sending it into a violent shudder. Everyone was jolted from their positions. "Damn!" Satima yelled, her voice echoing the collective shock and urgency of the crew.

"Status!", Shepard shouted.

Cortez punched panels, trying to control the thrusters as the shuttles alarms blared around them. "Some kind of pulse hit us! Systems are shutting down!" Cortez faced them, "Brace for impact!"

Garrus, Ashley, and Satima were thrown forward as Shepard slammed against the cockpit wall. Cortez, with an expert maneuver, managed to land on the cruiser's surface, the thrusters firing out wildly, skidding along the curved metal of the hull.

Until it ground to an abrupt halt just shy of the deck's edge. The Kodiak rocked violently, then settled with a resounding thud that echoed through the metal hull. The crew, shaken but unbroken, quickly regained their bearings.

With swift, decisive movements, Shepard opened the shuttle's hatch and leapt out, her boots hitting the deck with a solid thud. Garrus and Ashley followed close on her heels, their eyes scanning the surroundings for any threats. Satima hesitated for a moment, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face, before she leaned over Cortez's shoulder, her voice edged with urgency.

With apparent exasperation and a hint of playful annoyance, Satima shot a glance at Cortez. "Next time, I fly!" she declared, her eyes narrowing in determination. Cortez chuckled, watching as she leapt out of the shuttle last, landing with a splash in the rain. Her voice carried over the roar of the downpour, shouting in an alien language, "Jo suta!" The translator didn't catch it, but the tone made it clear—she was calling him an asshole in batarian. Cortez smirked at the thought.

Satima's voice rang out in disbelief, tinged with humor, "I'm starting to sound like Borlask." As they all stood on the surface of the downed Alliance cruiser, the gravity of their situation struck them. The rain pounded down, mixing with the sparks and smoke rising from the wreckage, creating an atmosphere of both urgency and determination.

Many makeshift tents and beds lined in rows ahead on the deck. The place looked old. "Everyone alright?", Shepard asked around.

"Banged up, but I'll make it,", Ashley replied.

Garrus nodded to Shepard as Satima hopped down below. She's getting ahead again. Shepard followed with the others in tow, opening a public com with Cortez. "How's the shuttle, Cortez?"

"Checking now. I'll see if I can get power restored.", he said.

"Copy that. We'll look around.", Shepard finished. She started to investigate the surrounding area.

Ashley lifted the tent flap with the barrel of her rifle, peering inside with cautious curiosity. The dim light revealed old bed rolls and damaged data pads scattered across the floor. Satima's eyes fixated on a crate nearby, and she hesitated before prying it open.

The crate creaked open, but Satima's hopes quickly faded as she found it empty, save for the rank stench wafting from the crates beneath. She crinkled her nose in disgust, deciding it was best not to investigate further. Garrus sidled up to Shepard, his eyes keen and alert.

The rain began blowing down hard, as thunder was heard in the distance. "Look at all this. How many have been stranded here by that pulse?", he asked.

Shepard gazed up at a communication tower from the same cruiser they were standing on. It's frame still held firm, despite the weather. "Could be Leviathan's last line of defense.", she answered.

Ashley caught up with them. Pointing out to other submerged crashed ships in the distance. "I don't recognize those ships. How long have they been here?"

"No telling how long. Years, decades...", Shepard replied.

They turned around from the edge and proceeded further on the deck. Inside a makeshift shack, Shepard found several rotted corpses. Bare skeletons now. " Any idea how old these are?", she asked around.

Garrus responded, "At C-Sec, they always said the key to decomposition was scavengers. Without them, it's quite a while."

She spotted a data pad still working, reading its contents of an "Atton Brooks". He complained of a similar pulse downing their ship and trying to get their systems working again, hopeful they would be airborne within 24 hours. Doesn't look like that worked for them.

Back outside, Shepard noticed Satima staring intently at something. As Shepard approached, the tension in the air grew palpable. Upon closer inspection, she saw it was an orb, eerily similar to the one on the Citadel. The orb pulsed with an ominous light, casting strange shadows on their faces. Satima's hand hovered over it, a mix of fear and curiosity in her eyes. The rain hammered down harder, as if the heavens themselves were warning them away.

Ashley stepped forward, "Shepard, one of those artifacts."

Shepard crept behind Satima, her steps deliberate and silent. "Satima?" she whispered, her voice edged with caution. If Leviathan had seized control of her, they were all in grave danger. Despite her youth, Satima was no novice; she could be a lethal threat. Shepard's hand trembled slightly as she reached out, lightly touching Satima's arm. The girl snapped around, eyes wide with alarm. "Damn it, Shepard! Don't sneak up on me," she hissed, her voice a mix of fear and irritation.

They all stared down into the tent, a skeletal body stuck to the metal floor with its own fluids turned to hardened slime. Shepard held her pistol forward as she stepped closer. "Explains why no one gets out of here."

She aimed at the orb, feeling compelled to shoot it and did. It exploded, turning into dust. Strange. "What material could it have been made out of?", Satima wondered aloud.

Shepard read another data pad. This time from a "Shen Kunshan." Despite most of their electronics still functioning, the thrusters fail every time.

The damage done to the pulses of the thrusters didn't make physical sense, not seeming to be a result of the distress beacon being dead, so there was no way to get a signal off the surface of the planet.

The Captain had ordered these makeshift tents and shacks for shelter against the weather and even one of the crew members wanted to use their weapons to "blast fish", in order to get food.

The rations had gotten low quickly but unfortunately for the crew, nothing looked like an edible fish to hunt. Shepard felt a regrettable pang in her mind.

If anyone knew about this place or even could've received their signal, they would've been saved. The inevitable hero inside her wished to save everyone. But that's a human thing, Garrus had told her a while back. You can't save everyone.

Gun fire was heard from the deck. Shepard and Ash looked to see Satima shoot another orb. At least that puts the thought of Leviathan trying to control them at ease. Garrus found one in a tent and destroyed it. Good. Maybe this will get its attention. Satima brought a data pad to Shepard, "It's from a Dr. Chai Lin.

This is how they brought those orbs on board, by using a raft to traverse to the other ships. They ran out of food and this doctor ended her entry with "It's getting cold." We should not be here." Satima looked fearful.

Shepard took the pad, quickly browsing its contents before putting a reassuring hand on the girl's shoulder. "I promise we'll be ok. This isn't anything we can't handle. We've destroyed those orbs. Leviathan can't control or hurt us."

Satima nodded and walked off to another tent. Garrus stood in front of what seemed to be a mech, covered in aged plastic tarp.

"Looks like a damaged Atlas. Different, though, and it's not flying Cerberus colors.", Shepard pointed out.

Garrus smirked, "And it's not taking shots at us, which is nice. Doesn't look salvageable, though."

As Shepard scanned the surroundings, her eyes were drawn to a weathered data pad lying amidst the crates. She picked it up, wiping away the wet mold that clung to its surface. With growing curiosity, she activated the pad and discovered it belonged to Captain Pratt.

What he wrote reminded her of how easily people can lose control when hungry and scared. Anger follows, then death. Which is exactly what happened. A "Ramos" tried destroying an orb. He probably realized his thoughts weren't his own.

The rest of the crew attacked and killed him. Pratt had to stop them from committing cannibalism. He sealed the Tritons (the atlas-like machines) away, so the crew couldn't use them to wipe each other out. Didn't matter in the end. They all died anyway.

The crew spent the next ten minutes looking over the dead and the decayed. This was horrible. Shepard led them on to the other side of the survivor camp. Until a familiar roaring sound resonated in the sky. "Shepard! Up there!", Ashley pointed.

Sure enough, a Reaper appeared. "We've got company, Shepard! Must have been right behind us!", Garrus shouted in the rain, prepping his weapon.

Satima ran behind, readying herself with them. "Protect the shuttle!", Shepard shouted.

Chaos erupted as they sprinted toward the Kodiak, weaving through shacks and structures for cover. The sky blazed with fire as a burning mass crashed onto the deck, unleashing a torrent of husks. Screams and the eerie wails of the creatures filled the air, turning the scene into a battlefield drenched in rain and desperation.

Cannibals yelled their war cry at them. Shepard fired, taking down two. "Cortez! Situation?", she yelled into the comm.

"Swapping out the parts, Commander! Hang on!", Cortez replied frantically.

Satima drew her blades, the metal glinting ominously in the dim light as she launched herself into the fray. Her movements were a blur, each strike precise and deadly as she cut through the husks with a fierce determination. The rain slicked her hair to her face, but she paid it no mind, her focus solely on the enemies swarming around her. With each spin and slash, she seemed to dance a deadly ballet, leaving a trail of dismembered husks in her wake.

Garrus took a position on the higher ground, his sniper rifle poised and ready. His keen eyes scanned the battlefield, picking off cannibals with deadly accuracy. Each shot rang out like a thunderclap, the muzzle flash briefly illuminating his intense gaze. He barked out orders and warnings, his voice a steady anchor amidst the chaos. No movement escaped his notice, and every squeeze of the trigger meant another enemy down.

Ashley, wielding her rifle with grim determination, mowed down hordes of husks, her shots precise and relentless. She moved with practiced efficiency, her posture unwavering as she provided cover fire for her teammates. The rifle's barrel glowed red-hot from the continuous firing, but Ashley showed no signs of slowing down. Her face was set in a mask of concentration, every bullet finding its mark amidst the melee.

As they fought, the defunct starship rocked gently on the water, a stark contrast to the violence unfolding on its deck. The rain poured down in sheets, mingling with the blood and debris at their feet. Explosions from Garrus's sniper rifle shook the air, while Satima's blades carved through the husks with a brutal elegance. Ashley's rifle continued its deadly symphony, ensuring no enemy got too close.

The Reaper abominations began to flank them, their grotesque forms moving with eerie precision. Shepard took down more cannibals, each shot precise and deadly, blasting them with hot thermal bullets. "CORTEZ?" she yelled emphatically, her voice cutting through the chaos like a beacon.

"Almost there, Commander!", he replied.

Shepard took cover, rolling to an adjacent shack. She wanted to get closer to the middle of the kill zone, to scan the area for her team.

Ashley grunted through the comms. "Ash?" Shepard shouted, her voice cutting through the turmoil. Ashley dashed from a tent overrun by husks as Satima provided suppressing fire with swift and precise strikes. "I'm okay, Commander. Satima saved my ass," she replied, her breath heavy but steady.

Satima joined Ashley, pressing close against the corrugated walls of a nearby shack. "We need that shuttle airborne now! We'll be overrun!" Satima's voice carried a note of urgency, her eyes scanning the battlefield for any signs of additional threats.

Shepard shouted back, "Cortez, we need air support now!" Amidst the chaos, Cortez’s fingers danced across the controls, working with feverish speed to get the shuttle ready for takeoff.

"Shepard!", Garrus yelled over comms.

Shepard's eyes widened as she saw Garrus grappled by three cannibals, their grotesque forms clawing at him. With a burst of adrenaline, she sprinted towards them, her heart pounding in her ears. She kicked the first one off, shooting it down. Her roar of anger echoed while meleeing with her omni-blade on the second.

Garrus punched a cannibal trying to chew his arm, it was too close for comfort. He then put the nozzle of his rifle in the cannibal's mouth, "Chew on this you bastard!"  He opened fire. Bits of rotted brain chunks and dark blood covered the deck.

Shepard grabbed Garrus and pulled him up. "Garrus! Are you alright?", she asked urgently, her eyes scanning his armored form for any signs of injury.

"I'm fine, Shepard. Thanks," he replied with a wink. Shepard breathed a sigh of relief, her grip on his arm loosening.

They turned to see Satima, who had been watching them with a mix of concern and determination. With a nod of acknowledgment, she resumed blasting husks alongside Ashley, her precision unerring.

"Cortez, what happened to "almost there?", Shepard commed.

"Had a development, Commander. Fixing it now!", Cortez replied, shooting a husk that surprised him.

"Brute!", Satima shouted.

A brute came crashing through the tents. Destroying the once undisturbed camp remains. "It's got heavy armor. Whittle that down quickly!", Shepard reminded them.

Ashley used her frag grenades to blast off its protective plates. Garrus sniped at the exposed parts of flesh. It came closer, roaring at them all, trying to deflect the blasts. "I think it's angry!", Satima yelled sarcastically.

"Don't stop!", Shepard shouted, taking cover before the brute rammed into her. She ran around the crates, opening fire on the monster. It fell on one knee from a blow to the head by another grenade. "Taking the shot!" Garrus aimed, firing a bullet into the brute's left eye. It exited the other side.

"One down.", Satima said as she jogged up beside Shepard.

"Too many more to go.", Shepard replied as another brute stood before them.

It took every ounce of their strength, but they managed to bring it down. No sooner had they caught their breath than a fresh wave of Reapers surged onto the deck, their grotesque forms lurching and sprinting towards them with relentless ferocity.

"Commander!", Cortez commed. "Yes, Cortez.", Sheppard answered while under fire.

"I'm airborne!", he said.

"Bout damn time!", Satima shouted.

Shepard leaned out to fire on cannibals, "Give us some cover fire!"
"Copy that.", Cortez fired up the engines, blasting at the deck below on reapers. Shepard and the team took cover, peaking to shoot down any enemies remaining on deck.

Then a surge of energy blasted forward to the shuttle. "Another pulse hit me! Flight control's scrambled!" The Kodiak flew down hard to the other side of the large deck. Smoke coming from the thrusters.

"Damn it! Cortez is in trouble! Get to him!", Shepard roared.

With a burst of speed, everyone sprinted towards the shuttle, adrenaline coursing through their veins. Shepard lunged over the broken bridge, landing deftly on the far end of the deck. Cortez was under heavy fire from the cannibals. Time was running out.

Satima and the others vaulted over the precarious bridge, joining Shepard in the thick of battle. Cannibals crouched behind the deck's smaller structures, using them as makeshift shields. Waves crashed against the metal, sending sprays of saltwater into the air, leaving the team to constantly wipe their vision clear. The thunderous roar of the ocean merged with the cacophony of combat, creating a symphony of chaos.

The torrential rain pelted them, blurring their vision and turning the deck into a slippery battleground. Satima seized the opportunity, using the slick surface to slide towards Cortez with swift agility. Her movements were precise and determined, as if the chaos around her only heightened her focus. She reached Cortez just in time.

With a graceful flip over the large metal piping, she landed neatly beside Cortez. As Shepard dispatched the last cannibal on their side of the shattered bridge, they shared a fleeting moment of respite. The broken bridge now served as a temporary barrier, holding off the relentless tide of Reapers and momentarily shielding them from the chaos beyond.

"Okay, we're clear.", she told them.

"Nice work, Commander, but there's a development. We need to talk.", Cortez said over comms.

Shepard sprinted up the ramp to where Cortez and Satima were crouched, Garrus and Ashley close on her heels. Dropping into a low crouch beside them, Shepard's voice rang out with urgency, "Status report!"

Garrus and Ashley took positions, their eyes scanning for any sign of an ambush. The air crackled with tension, the distant roars of Reapers echoing through the storm. Each second felt like an eternity as they braced for the next wave.

Satima leaned out, watching the ocean. She seemed caught in a daze. Cortez continued, "Shuttle's a mess, Commander. That pulse knocked it right out of the air. We're not going anywhere."

"What about the Normandy?", Garrus asked, concerned.

Cortez held his rifle firm. He glanced between them, "Same thing would happen to her... and the landing won't be as pretty. I'd say Leviathan has some sort of defense system in place." After Cortez finished his sentence, another flaming pod crashed on the deck.

Husks crawled around but didn't get far before Ashley stopped them with a few shots. Shepard nodded to her and Garrus. She made a quick decision. "Then we aren't getting out of here until we find it. So how do we do that?", she asked.

Cortez stood up half-way, leading Shepard to the left side of their cover. "Well... you might be able to use a mech. Looks like it's rigged for diving."

"A diving mech?", she looked confused.

"It's a Triton model. Military grade, repurposed for deep-sea exploration. As long as the seawater hasn't corroded it, you should be good to go.", Cortez informed.

They booth stood up. "Well, if that's what we have to do, let's get started.", Shepard said.

Ashley and Garrus shot a few husks then faced Shepard. "Uh, just a second here. Are we seriously considering...", she trailed off with her question?

Cortez hopped on top of the platform the shuttle landed on. "First, we'll need to restore power to get that cargo door open." He leaned down to one knee, facing Shepard.

"How?", Shepard asked.

Garrus turned to Ashley, "I guess we are."

"These old Ballard-class ships are equipped with exterior power sockets. They use'em for emergency repairs.", Cortez pointed to a nearby socket, "We can strip the cells from the shuttle and use those for juice. Hang on, and I'll get you started."

Cortez handed a cell to Shepard, "Find a place to plug that in, Commander."

Garrus and Ashley stood vigilant, their eyes darting through the storm as Shepard ventured further onto the deck, searching for the critical sockets. Satima remained behind with Cortez, poised to provide cover from the elevated platform. Her demeanor was a blend of intensity and focus, though a hint of something unspoken lingered. Shepard couldn't afford distractions; every second counted.

Suddenly, the air was filled with the thunderous roars of Brutes landing with their ferocious Husks. The Brutes beat their chests in a primal challenge, bellowing to the stormy sky. Garrus drew the Brutes' attention with precise shots while Ashley unleashed cover fire from behind. Just as they seemed to gain the upper hand, another Brute emerged from the corner, its roar echoing through the deck. With a devastating swing, it struck Ashley, sending her skidding across the slippery deck.

Ashley gritted her teeth, forcing herself back to her feet despite the sharp pain in her ribs. She quickly applied medi-gel, feeling its soothing effects spread through her battered body. Garrus, ever the tactician, lobbed proximity mines that exploded with precision, halting the advance of the Husks. "Ash, you still with us?" he called out, his voice cutting through the chaos. She nodded, determination blazing in her eyes, ready for whatever came next.

"I'll live! Watch your ass!", she replied.

Garrus chuckled to himself as he slapped a fresh thermal clip into his rifle. "watch my ass... ", he repeated with a smile.

A low growl was heard above him. Garrus looked up to see a brute. "Ah shit!", he ran from cover. Shepard had already supplied two charged cells to Cortez. 36%. "How are you guys holding up?", she asked.

"Getting this done a little faster would be nice, Shepard!", Ashley shouted.

"Almost became best buddies with a brute.", Garrus yelled.

"Hey, smart asses! Focus on the deck!", Satima commed them. It was good to hear her act normal.

Shepard gave two more cells to Cortez before it charged completely to 100%. "Cargo doors are opening, Commander. That mech is all yours! It should still have weapons capability!", Cortez informed.

Shepard sprinted towards the colossal Triton mech, adrenaline surging through her veins. With a swift motion, she powered up the systems, feeling the machine hum to life around her. The mech's monumental form lumbered forward, each step resonating with authority as it made its way to confront the brutes on the deck. The heads-up display flickered to life, a string of words emblazoned across the screen: "Kill all Reaper bastards." Shepard's lips curled into a fierce smile as she caught a glimpse of Satima in the distance. Satima's own grin shone through the chaos as she powered down her omni-tool.

Shepard wasted no time firing rockets, blasting the reapers to chunky bits. Garrus and Ashley took cover behind the mech, opening fire on any husks, hungry to get inside to Shepard.

Hapless cannibals went flying backwards, as Shepard blasted them. With the last brute dead, Cortez commed Shepard again. "That did it. Looks like we're in the clear now, Commander.", Cortez sighed with relief.

"Good, I need to get into the water before they come back.", Shepard assessed.

"Roger that. Walk the mech back to me when you're ready to dive. I should check it over first.", Cortez asked.

Shepard brought the mech straight to Cortez and Satima. When she stopped in front of him, Cortez began a hasty inspection. "All right, Commander. Let's do a systems check."

Garrus stepped forward, his voice laced with concern. "Shepard, I know you're always up for a challenge, but this... this is beyond reckless."

Shepard opens the mech hatch to talk to Garrus, "We've come too far to stop now. The way home is through Leviathan."

Cortez walks around the mech, the orange glow from his omni-tool lighting his face. "Okay, seals check out. Oxygen pressure is nominal. Systems are a go. It's as ready as I can make it."

"Let's go.", Shepard informs.

Garrus steps forward, his plated brow furrowed in worry. "But Shepard..."

She gives him a smile, "I'll be fine."

Garrus nods and walks away. Satima steps in front of the mech. Shepard sighs, "Yes, Satima?" The girl looks down with her hands behind her back.

Shepard senses she wants to say something. Satima finally speaks, "Shepard. This Leviathan could be directive. I have no way to help you if it decides to take over. Please... be careful."

"Closing hatch.", Shepard says as she gives a nod of understanding to Satima.

Cortez brings a video screen up on his omni-tool. Shepard's face illuminates in their view. "Engaging systems...Ready."

"Testing comm link.", Cortez says aloud.

"I read you.", Shepard assured.

The team paced on the deck as Shepard's mech slowly walked to the edge. "Here goes.", she muttered. "Commencing dive in 3...2...1..." They watched the mech step off with a splash and disappear in seconds below the choppy ocean surface.

The Triton sank fast. Shepard could feel her body lift in her seat as she descended. "Suit holding up, Commander?", Cortez commed, concerned.

"Looks good so far.", she replied.

"Good. I'm getting some communication interference on this end. Hang on.", he said.

"Copy that." Shepard typed commands on the console as the mech adjusted to the pressure of the deep dive. "Commander, can you read me? We're losing your signal. Something is blocking your comm. Please respond.", Cortez asked in slight panic.

The deeper the mech got, the darker her surroundings became. "Cortez? Cortez?", she commed. Nothing. "Looks like I'm alone now.", she said to herself.

........
Back on the surface....

"What's wrong?", Garrus asked.

Cortez kept trying to comm Shepard. "I've lost all communications with the Commander.", he looked distraught at Garrus.

Satima sat on the ledge of the platform, working on the cells for the shuttle. "She can handle herself. Shepard is a Reaper-killer also.", she spoke, not looking up from her work.

"Yeah, but Leviathan may be bigger and more dangerous.", Ashley chimed in.

Garrus didn't like to hear that, but it could be true.

"Shepard is a unique individual. Leviathan wouldn't destroy her or let a chance to meet her be interrupted. Trust me. She's fine.", Satima walked inside the shuttle.

"There's something seriously wrong with that girl.", Ashley muttered.

Satima finished placing the two cells in the shuttle, her mind suddenly clouded by confusion. "Why am I inside the shuttle?" she wondered aloud. The cells were perfectly aligned, a testament to her skills as a tech. Yet, something felt off. Normally, rerouting a new thruster took considerable time, but she had completed it in just one minute. An unsettling chill crept over her, a cold shiver that hinted at something unnatural. She glanced around, her instincts screaming for her to leave this planet as soon as possible.

Garrus stepped to the edge of the deck, his eyes scanning the wreckage of the ships below. Harsh waves crashed relentlessly against their battered hulls, echoing the intensity of the storm. Rain poured down in a relentless torrent, soaking them all to the bone, or in his case, carapace.

He regretted letting her go down there into the deep, dark ocean. His eyes were locked on the waves, which crashed violently against the deck. Despite the storm and heavy rain, an unnatural cold seemed to grip him tighter than ever before.
.................................................
Minutes passed by, with her systems checking normal. Shepard wiped the window from fogging up. She looked around to see if she could find anything.

With her lights on, large rock formations stood jagged from the ocean floor. Getting close to the bottom meant that Leviathan had to be hiding someplace dark. Upon further descent, her lights went out. Shepard eyed this and kept calm.

In fact, the overall excitement inside her to meet a Reaper-killer quelled all apprehension. For now. The Triton landed hard on the ocean floor.
Large bubbles surfaced around the bottom, floating up. Illuminating mushroom plants lead a path further away. Shepard shot out a flair. It's red glare fizzing in the water. Coral grew in spirals of bushes on the path she trod.

Shepard needed to locate the probe. Where it is, could be where Leviathan is. She continued to record her comms to be sent to the surface.

Maybe communications would be opened again. "Not sure if you can read me up there. Looks like I've finished the major descent. Can't see much from here.", she sends another flare out, "Suit is... holding up. Emergency systems have come online. Life support operational."

The mech walks steadily along the path. Shepard squints to view more lighted mushrooms. No oceanic life so far. Strange. The Triton descends down a short hill. It lands with a thud, forcing Shepard to grunt under the pressure.

Her third flare goes out, she only has a few to use. With her lights out, it could get very dark soon. "Shutting down all noncritical systems to preserve remaining power." She types a few commands, making her mechs internal lights go dim. "Not sure how much juice the emergency thruster will need to get me back to the surface. Can't worry about that now."

Another flare shoots out. Plenty of flora on this ocean floor. Shepard receives the technical readings from the probe, they seem strange.
Something is definitely down here. Shepard looks up as she descends lower on the ocean floor, to see the lit mushroom plants lift off, floating away. Those weren't plants at all, but some type of jellyfish.

They looked beautiful while they floated gently with the soft undercurrent. Shepard took in the image as a sign of peace while closing her eyes.

After opening them from a quick meditative state, she continued with her search. Deeper into the area was a darker hole. Like a gaping maw into some unknown place. "Reading the probe directly below me. Looks like the final drop."

She stepped off, slowly descending. "Can't see anything just yet." The mech floated past giant rock formations, into a massive underwater cave. "Found the probe. Seems intact." She landed with a thud.

As Shepard advanced, she fired a flare into the darkest recesses of the cave, illuminating the jagged rock walls and the abyss below. She stood poised on a precarious ledge, her breath catching at the sight of a ghostly luminescence emanating from the depths. Suddenly, the entire cavern shuddered violently. Something immense was stirring below, something that defied the natural order of the world.
..................
Meanwhile, on the surface of the ocean. Reapers attacked the team on the deck of the cruiser. They all took cover with the shuttle, keeping the reaper forces out of the area, hoping Shepard would be back soon.

...................

Shepard watched in awe and respectful horror as an enormous, decapod creature emerged from the abyss below. Its form was reminiscent of a Reaper, yet it pulsed with an eerie, organic vitality. "What in the galaxy is that?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the cacophony of the creature's emergence.

Leviathan spoke, "You have come too far."

Shepard blinked, her vision momentarily clouded by a swirling grey mist. As the haze cleared, she found herself face to face with Leviathan. Shaking her head lightly to dispel the disorientation, she took a deep breath. "I had to find you," she declared, her voice resolute despite the uncertainty that lingered in the air.

Leviathan hovered, speaking with the authority of an ancient and intelligent being. "This is not your domain. You have breached the darkness."

"You killed a Reaper. I need to know why.", Shepard demanded.

"They are the enemy. One that seeks our extermination.", Leviathan answered.

Shepard found herself once again enveloped in the swirling grey fog, this time on all fours, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination. She rose to face the imposing figure of Leviathan, her mind racing. "But... I thought you were one of the Reapers," she exclaimed, her voice tinged with a mixture of disbelief and awe.

"They are only echoes. We existed long before.", he replied.

Shepard felt a fear caution her to what she was doing. "Then what are you?"

"Something more.", Leviathan said.

Shepard felt herself being pulled into the swirling grey fog, her consciousness merging with the vast emptiness that was Leviathan's mind. Nausea gripped her, but she pushed herself to stand, defying the disorienting sensations. Leviathan approached her, taking on the familiar guise of Ann, his voice echoing with an otherworldly calm. "Your mind belongs to me. Breathe," he commanded, his presence both reassuring and ominous.

Shepard takes a breath, feeling less nauseous and more aware. She sees Bryson's daughter, "Ann? What's happening?", Shepard asks.

Leviathan points to the head of Ann, speaking of the mind. "Your memories give voice to our words. Your nature will be revealed to us. Accept this."

Shepard felt confused and became angry with Leviathan's attempts to take over. "The galaxy is at war with the reapers. You defeated one. Why aren't you fighting back?"

Leviathan shook his head in indifference, "There is no war. There is only the harvest." He walks away from Shepard. "Then help us stop it!", she demands.

Leviathan appears behind her in the form of the assistant that killed Dr. Bryson. "None have possessed the strength in past cycles. Your own species could be destroyed with a single thought.", he becomes the form of the Garneu imposter, "But you are different."

He turned to her, away from the mock laboratory equipment, "I have witnessed your actions in this cycle: the destruction of Sovereign; the fall of the Collectors. The Reapers perceive you as a threat.", he turns into Ann, "And I must know why."

Shepard jolted awake in her mech, a thin trail of blood trickling from her nose. The intense probing of Leviathan into her mind was excruciating. The searing pain in her head intensified, yet he wasn't done. Struggling to focus, Shepard gazed up at Leviathan as he once more drew her into the vast, empty expanse of his mind. She found herself kneeling, the weight of his presence pressing down on her, yet she refused to yield.

He talks to her in the forms she's familiar with. "Before the cycles, our kind was the apex of life in the galaxy. The lesser species were in our thrall, serving our needs." Leviathan showed her the same cave paintings of long ago civilizations that were in his time. "We grew more powerful, and they were cared for. But we could not protect them from themselves."
He turned to her, "Over time, the species built machines that then destroyed them. Tribute does not flow from a dead race."

They both stood together, as Leviathan walked with her in the abyss of space they occupied. "To solve this problem, we created an intelligence with the mandate to preserve life at any cost. As the intelligence evolved, it studied the development of civilizations. Its understanding grew until it found a solution. In that instant, it betrayed us. It chose our kind as the first harvest. From our essence, the first Reaper was created. You call it Harbinger."

Shepard looked at him with surprise. This Leviathan, was the first apex race and created the harvest unknowingly. She needed more answers. "You built that machine despite what you saw the other races experience. Why?"

Leviathan gazes up, "You cannot conceive of a galaxy that bends to your will", planets form above them, "Every creature, every nation, every planet we discovered became our tools. We were above the concerns of lesser species. The intelligence was envisioned as simply another tool."

Shepard listened. A small voice repeated directive in her head. Leviathan extracted that. He stared at Shepard then continued to answer her questions. "And now we all pay the price for your mistake.", she said angrily.

"There was no mistake. It still serves its purpose.", Leviathan said.

Shepard felt a surge of curiosity and determination as she demanded more answers. Leviathan began to unravel the tale of his people's survival, painting a picture of resilience and secrecy. He described how, in the wake of the Reaper's harvest, his kind found refuge in the farthest, darkest reaches of the galaxy, hidden from their relentless pursuers.

Over countless cycles, they manipulated the thrall races, erasing all evidence of their existence and ensuring that their survival remained a closely guarded secret. As Leviathan spoke, the weight of their hidden struggle and the enormity of their defiance became clear to Shepard. This revelation only fueled her resolve to uncover the full extent of the truth.

They watched and reached out through fragments for discovery. An orb floated in place before Shepard.

"Fragments? You mean the artifacts we found?", she asked.

He resumed, telling her the fragments provided a window into the galaxy, to explore the events from the safety of Desponia. Leviathan watches, studies and remains in the shadows.

"How did the intelligence defeat you?", she asked.

Leviathan looked away. Perhaps to show some emotion of remorse through body language. He spoke of the intelligence needing to acquire physical data from organic life, to find its solution. It created its own army, pawns, to search the galaxy for data.

There wasn't a warning or motive when the intelligence turned against his people. Only slaughter. Shepard understood.

She asked Leviathan how the Reapers were made. Leviathan told her when each Harvest ends, a new reaper is born. It is perfect in its design, each formed in Harbinger's image. Their image.

Each reaper will have the ability to influence organics. Over the cycles, the ability became refined, perfected, and gave rise to indoctrination.
Shepard couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"But why," Shepard pressed, her voice rising with the fervor of her curiosity, "did Harbinger choose to create a new 'human Reaper' that doesn't mirror his own image?" Leviathan gave no answer.

"Then what's the point of all these harvests?", Shepard argued.

"The intelligence has one purpose: preservation of life. That purpose has not been fulfilled. It directed the reapers to build the mass relays-to speed the time between cycles for greatest efficiency. The galaxy itself became an experiment. Evolution its tool.", Leviathan finished.

Despair clawed at her sanity, and an overwhelming fatigue threatened to consume her. It was as though the very essence of her being yearned for an end to the relentless torment. "Will it ever end?" she questioned, her voice a mere whisper of desperation, already bracing herself for the inevitable truth.

Leviathan responds with an unknowable answer. The intelligence will not stop until it finds its solution. Shepard asks her final question, "What do you know about the Crucible?"

They have watched its construction before but never witnessed a completion. All those before, still fell victim to the harvest. "Its outcome is unknown.", Leviathan said.

"Okay, you made your point. Will you help stop the cycle?", Shepard had enough of this. Harsh reality or not, the galaxy needed Leviathan and what is left of his people.

"I have searched your mind. You are an anomaly-yet that is not enough.", Leviathan answered.

"Wait!", Shepard pleaded.

Leviathan began to walk off but turned to face Shepard, "The cycle will continue."

"No! You've been watching. You know this cycle is different.", Shepard continued.

Leviathan heard her words but felt a presence like that of the Shepard. He had been monitoring this organic since they arrived. She had many dark secrets. Leviathan will know.
........................................

Above on the deck, Garrus expertly took out two cannibals with precise sniper shots while Ashley unleashed a barrage of gunfire on the advancing husks. Satima provided suppressing fire, ensuring their position remained secure amidst the chaos.

All the while, a deep sense of dread filled her with anxiety, tightening its grip on her mind. Unfortunately, the team had no time to scan the new area for orbs. Unknown to them, one remained hidden beneath the shuttle's platform, glowing and pulsing with a mysterious light, like a heartbeat in the shadows.

Garrus crouched next to Satima, his eyes scanning the battlefield with concern. "You look exhausted. Let me cover you for a minute," he offered, his voice tinged with worry.

Satima forced a laugh. "No way! I'm not tired..." But before she could finish, her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed, unconscious under the relentless barrage of Reaper fire.

The shuttle's barricade provided scant cover against the onslaught. "Ash!" Garrus bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos. Together, they dragged Satima onto the shuttle, while Ashley frantically began scanning her, a sense of urgency and dread hanging thick in the air.

"I don't know what happened. She was talking one minute and next she passes right out," Garrus's voice quivered with uncharacteristic fear, his heart thudding loudly against his armored chest. Ashley's hands moved with frenzied urgency, applying medi-gel, administering a small shock from her omni-tool, anything to awaken Satima from her sudden unconsciousness. But she lay motionless, oblivious to the chaos and gunfire raging around them, her fate hanging in a precarious balance.

"Her readings are normal, except...", Ashley looked at her omni-tool again.

"Except what?", Garrus shouts.

"Her brain waves are off the charts. Theta waves are spiking.", she stares at Garrus. "She's dreaming."

Garrus's eyes darted around in sheer panic. Something was terribly wrong with Satima, and the absence of Shepard only heightened the dread. Why hadn't Shepard returned yet? The battlefield turned into a storm of chaos, each second stretching into an eternity.
.........................................

Back below.

Satima found herself enveloped in a swirling, murky mist. She strained to hear faint voices echoing around her—some familiar and comforting, others eerie and disconcerting, like whispers from another world.

Suddenly, a deep, menacing voice echoed through the mist. "You harbor a secret," it intoned, sending a shiver down Satima's spine. Her pulse quickened as she found herself standing beside Shepard, only to collapse to her knees, overcome by a wave of vertigo. "Breathe," a distant voice commanded, cutting through her disorientation. She strained to focus, catching fragments of Shepard's voice, locked in a heated argument with someone unseen.

"We will survive. You and the reaper-child will stay here, serving our every need. The reapers will harvest the rest," Leviathan's voice boomed, dripping with malice.

Satima's sudden coughing fit broke the silence, snapping Shepard's attention to her. "Like hell I'm going to serve you!" she spat, her voice trembling with defiance. Summoning her remaining strength, she forced herself to stand, locking eyes with the ominous figure of the false Ann.

Shepard double takes at Satima but continues her request, "If you release-us-no one has to be harvested."

"Nothing will change.", Leviathan concludes.

"The reapers know where you are! You can't just watch anymore-you have to fight! Even if you survive the battle today, the reapers won't stop-ever. Release us, and we have a chance to end this once and for all."

Leviathan glances to Shepard then finally at Satima. "No." He steps forward to Satima, "She is already part of the harvest."

Leviathan vanished, releasing Shepard from his thrall. She surfaced from the darkness, blood trickling from her nose, a testament to the battle she was waging. Two more of his kind emerged from the abyss, their presence ominous and foreboding. Leviathan seized her once again, dragging her back into his malevolent gaze. "Your confidence is singular," he sneered, his voice dripping with condescension.

"I've earned it, damn it: out there fighting, where you should be.", Shepard argued.

"It is clear why the reapers perceive you as a threat. Your victories are more than a product of chance. We will fight. But not for you, or any lesser race. We were the first, the apex race. We will survive. And the reapers who trespass on this world will understand our power. They will become our slaves. Today, they will pay tribute in their blood.", Leviathan demanded.

Shepard nodded a silent thank you.

Before Leviathan released her, he turned to Satima once more, his gaze piercing. "I have scanned your mind, and your intentions are now laid bare to us."

Shepard raised a brow, looking at Satima, confusion etched on her face. "What are you talking about?" she whispered, her voice barely audible in the oppressive mist.

Leviathan spoke, "She is your progeny." Leviathan's gaze fixated on Shepard, a knowing smirk playing on the form of Ann's lips. "Satima is more than she appears, Shepard," he revealed, his voice echoing through the dark abyss. "She carries within her the essence of the reapers, a progeny of their making."

"Satima?", Shepard asked, confused.

"Don't listen. He's just like the Reapers. Trying to indoctrinate us!", she warned.

"SILENCE!", Leviathan roared, as Satima fell in pain. "You will reveal to us what you know."

Shepard's confusion deepened, her eyes darting between Leviathan and Satima. "What do you mean?" she demanded, her voice strained with disbelief. "Satima is just a soldier, nothing more."

Leviathan spoke, a tone devoid of warmth. "You are blind to the truth, Shepard. Satima was chosen, infused with the reaper's power. She is the key to their plans, a bridge between our worlds."

Satima's eyes widened in shock, her own understanding dawning amidst the revelation. "No... it can't be," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I never wanted this." Acher's words on HIVE echoed of her creation and all the DNA splicing she had suffered under his care.

But Leviathan's words carried a dreadful finality. "Your fate was sealed long ago, Satima. You cannot escape what you are."

Shepard stood rooted to the spot, her mind racing. Was Leviathan shielding her from an unknown danger, or was he inflicting more pain on Satima? The conflicting emotions churned within her, rendering her speechless. She could only watch and listen, her heart pounding in her chest.

Leviathan approached Satima slowly, his presence overwhelming. She flinched as his hand rested on her shoulder, a gesture both tender and terrifying. Leaning down, his voice softened, yet remained insistent. "You have endured immense suffering and betrayal, Satima. There is more you must uncover. Do not resist. Embrace your destiny."

Satima felt a searing pain in her head as if invisible hands were clawing at her memories. Darkness and coldness washed over her, rendering her powerless. Leviathan's voice cut through the agony, "Hybrid. Your existence is a paradox that cannot thwart the harvest. You cannot defy your Shepard. Everything will fall into place with minimal interference from you. Watch closely, and I will reveal what is necessary."

Leviathan revealed to Shepard haunting images of a woman that looked eerily like her, clad in dark red armor. Her eyes, glowing malevolently with a crimson hue, embodied a sinister intent. Tendrils of reaper technology pulsated with a menacing glow as she loomed over a small, trembling girl.

Ginger hair clung to her little face, matted by a torrent of tears. She looked up, eyes wide with terror, staring into Shepard's soul, freezing her to the core. Each sob from the girl echoed like a dagger in the silence, heightening the tension that gripped the room.

Time had passed. The once innocent girl-child had transformed, her spirit hardened and fierce as she grappled with men in lab coats, resisting their attempts to inject her with mysterious, lurid fluids.

She cried out, her voice a blend of fury and despair, hurling insults into the air. All the while, the menacing woman observed with an unnerving calm. The Satima Shepard knew today stared back at her through these haunting memories, each second stretched taut with the weight of impending doom.

Satima stared at the nothingness that was the floor, here in Leviathan's mind. Her breath grew ragged as the images swirled around her, each one more haunting than the last. She saw herself as a child, innocent and pure, before the galaxy had tainted her with cruelty and violence. The memories clawed at her, threatening to drown her in a sea of despair.

"Sa-Satima? Who... who are you?" Shepard's voice trembled as she spoke, her eyes darting between the haunting images and the looming figure of Leviathan beside her.

"She will reveal the truth to you. I have reassured her, we know all. You may still gain a victory against the reapers. But not before great sacrifice. She is yours and the reapers' progeny Shepard, and you must accept this. Or all will fall," Leviathan intoned, his voice heavy with foreboding. He released Shepard, leaving her with the weight of his words pressing down on her soul.

Shepard jolted awake from Leviathan’s grasp, her heart pounding as she scrambled to re-engage the thrusters. The mech whirred back to life, propelling her toward the surface. Her mind raced, grappling with the eerie, disquieting visions Leviathan had implanted. What had become of Satima? Was she the ominous sacrifice Leviathan had alluded to? The questions gnawed at Shepard, each one underscored by the weighty promise of impending doom.

Before her thoughts could even grasp what she had seen, the Triton Mech started to shut down, systems going offline rapidly. Panic surged through Shepard as she desperately tried to reroute power and other systems, fighting to get the boost she needed to reach the surface. If she failed, she would drown.

Back on deck, chaos reigned as Ashley and Garrus valiantly fought off the relentless Reaper forces. The enemy seemed endless, pouring in from the monstrous Reaper looming overhead. Meanwhile, in the shuttle, Satima lay unconscious, her form guarded fiercely by Cortez, who was ready to defend her at all costs.

Suddenly, with a gasp, Satima awoke from her unconscious state, her eyes wide with realization. She bolted upright and dashed out of the shuttle, her heart racing as she took in the chaotic scene around her. She found herself standing beside a stunned Garrus and Ashley, who were locked in a fierce battle, desperately defending their platform against the relentless onslaught of Reaper forces.

As the battle raged around her, Satima felt time slow. Each raindrop seemed to hang in the air, and the cacophony of gunfire and crashing waves faded into background noise. She focused on the Reaper forces before her, and a deep, ominous voice echoed in her mind.

“Shepard is in need. Allow me to take over.”

Satima nodded in agreement, feeling Leviathan's presence empowering her. With newfound determination, she strode to the edge of the starship carrier. Waves crashed against the hull, drenching her with ocean spray that tasted of salt and purpose. The fear that once filled her was now replaced with an exhilarating sense of limitless power.

Garrus stood, his heart pounding as he watched with awe and fear. Satima outstretched her right arm, her hand held aloft, wielding a biotic power unlike any he had ever seen. The air crackled with energy, and time seemed to slow as Garrus realized the immense power emanating from her.

Satima's eyes glowed with a faint purple hue, her body shimmering with this newfound biotic power. Seconds felt like hours as Shepard’s mech slowly emerged from the ocean depths, the water cascading off its metallic frame. Reaper forces began to swarm, closing in with ferocious intensity, and Garrus and Ashley were on the brink of being overwhelmed. With a sudden, powerful gesture, the Leviathan-controlled Satima unleashed a biotic wave that scattered the Reapers, momentarily halting their advance.

In a heart-stopping moment, the mech was ripped apart, its pieces hovering in mid-air as if suspended by an invisible force. Shepard’s unconscious body floated gently from the wreckage, every movement slow, deliberate, and fraught with tension. The silence was deafening, the scene unfolding with an almost surreal clarity. Finally, Shepard was laid down softly on the deck, her fate hanging in the balance.

Two hulking brutes lumbered towards her, their feet pounding the deck with ominous force. The nearest one raised a massive arm to strike, but halted abruptly. It twisted around, eyes gleaming with confusion and rage, and turned its fury on the other brute. As the Leviathan-controlled Satima commanded, the shattered pieces of the mech transformed into deadly shards, hurtling through the air with deadly precision, impaling the brute with unrelenting ferocity.

Garrus dashed out to Shepard, his heart pounding with worry. He watched her wince in pain as she woke up suddenly. Without hesitation, he quickly knelt next to her, carefully lifting her arm over his shoulders and supporting her waist with a protective grip. "Shepard's back! Cortez, talk to me!", Garrus urgently called into his comm, his voice filled with determination and concern.

The shuttle flies over to the side of the platform, "We're good to go! I don't know what the Commander did, but the pulse is offline!"

Satima suddenly collapsed, her body hitting the deck with a jarring thud. Pain surged through her, but she gritted her teeth and forced herself to rise. Leviathan's control had left her, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth and a splitting headache. She staggered to her feet, determination etched on her face, and pushed forward to join Garrus and Shepard at the shuttle.

Garrus led Shepard to the platform, his heart pounding as the controlled-brute took down the other one with vicious force. Skirting around the chaos, he held Shepard close, determination blazing in his eyes. They reached the shuttle, and with a swift motion, Garrus gently set Shepard down before climbing in himself, pulling her protectively into his arms.
"Ashley! Cover us!" he shouted over the comms, his voice edged with urgency. Ashley's suppressing fire roared through the air, each shot a shield against the encroaching Reaper forces. The hatch began to close, sealing them in with a metallic thud that echoed through the tense air.
The shuttle's engines roared to life, and they rocketed away from the battleground, the tension hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break.

Cortez flies the shuttle out only to encounter a bigger problem, "Damn it! We've got a Reaper inbound."

The Reaper begins to fire but Leviathan uses his orb fragments to take total control and shut it down. The Reaper falls to the ocean with a deafening crash, sinking beneath the waves.

As they escape the atmosphere of Desponia, Garrus hovers over Shepard, panic gripping his heart. "Shepard! Wake up!" he shouts, desperately stimulating her with a small shock from his omni-tool.

Ashley stands by, her eyes wide with concern. Garrus sighs in frustration, his voice cracking, "She's freezing!"

Shepard jolted awake, her breath ragged and eyes wide with panic. She coughed violently, the taste of blood sharp in her mouth. Disoriented and nauseous, she scrambled backward, thinking she was still trapped in Leviathan's mind, until her back struck the cold, familiar metal of the shuttle bench. Her nose was bleeding, the crimson stain stark against her pale skin. Garrus was immediately by her side, lifting her into a sitting position, his eyes filled with urgent concern. "Shepard, are you okay?" he demanded, his voice tight with worry.

She brought her knees to her chest, numbing the horrible feeling in her stomach. "Yeah... yeah, I'm fine. Hell, of a headache."

Garrus stood up as she sat on the bench. His intense gaze bore into her. "Never, do that again," he warned, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and urgency. The protective undertone of his sub-vocals betrayed how deeply her actions had shaken him. Shepard could hear the raw concern in his voice, understanding the gravity of the situation.

Cortez informed Shepard that Ann Bryson had been waiting on the comms. Shepard answered with a confirmation that Leviathan did exist.
"Was it worth it?", Ann asked.

Shepard glanced away, then back to the screen, "I don't know, but we proved it can't hide anymore... that it's a part of this war, just like us.", she answered.

Ann's eyes sparkled with a mixture of excitement and solemnity as she replied, "That sounds like an incredible story. My father would have been thrilled to know the truth was out there." She paused, her voice softening with emotion. "You know, Shepard, Admiral Hackett approached me about joining the scientific team. I didn't hesitate for a second – I said yes immediately."

Shepard smiled. "You'll do great, Ann. I wish you all the best."

Ann's expression turned earnest, gratitude shining in her eyes. "Thank you, Shepard. For everything."

The video comm ended. Shepard walked back to the bench and leaned over, trying to shake off her throbbing headache. She heard the familiar sound of boots scuffling across the floor. Raising her gaze, she saw Ashley on the other side of the cabin, diligently applying medi-gel to Satima's wounds.

Satima stared off into the distance, her eyes glazed and unfocused. It was clear she was in a daze, her mind seemingly leaving the control of Leviathan. Shepard watched with a growing sense of unease.

Leviathan's images replayed in her mind, each vision a haunting reminder. Satima couldn't hide the truth any longer. If the Reapers created her, then she could be a key to ending them. Shepard tore her gaze away from the scene, her mind a torrent of fear and urgency, remembering something else Leviathan said. Satima is her progeny too.

And the implications of what it means terrify her to the core.

...........................................

Normandy

Satima was brought to the med-bay, her body trembling as Chockwas carefully monitored her condition. The room buzzed with quiet urgency, the soft hum of medical equipment a stark contrast to the chaotic thoughts racing through Shepard's mind. Despite the recent enthrallment by Leviathan, Satima's vitals remained stable, a small beacon of hope amidst the uncertainty.

Shepard had opted for a quick check-up from her ordeal with Leviathan before heading to the vid-comm room. The tension in the air was evident as she awaited the connection. When Admiral Hackett's image materialized on screen, it felt as though the weight of the galaxy had settled on her shoulders once more.

"Commander, I've finished reading your report.", he informed.

Shepard approached the console, "The Alliance wanted more intelligence on the Reapers. I'd say we got it."

"Our people will be studying it for years to come. They're already calling it the Leviathan Codex. It rewrites galactic history as we know it.", Hackett said.

"Whatever else it means, it tells me the reapers had a beginning... and maybe now we'll provide them with an end.", Shepard assured.

Hackett agreed, "That's one way to look at it. I guess it's the only way. So, go out there, and make it happen." Shepard salutes him in respect. He continues, "This is a big step in the right direction, Shepard. Good work."

Shepard had been mulling over the idea of revealing her secret guest to Hackett and even Anderson. The thought always filled her with apprehension. Still, she penned a brief report detailing the incident on the Citadel, their challenging missions, and the groundbreaking discoveries about the Sentarian race.

Just confirmed by Javik, his so-called Ancients. It was time to reveal the truth. The Alliance had given Shepard leeway with everything, but this was different. The revelation of Satima change the tide of the war—or plunge them deeper into chaos. The weight of duty to mankind and the galaxy pressed heavily on her shoulders. She had to tell Hackett. Consequences be damned.

"Sir?', she looked up at him.

"Is there anything else, Commander?", the admiral wondered.

"Yes, Sir.", she looked down, wringing her hands. An old habit from her youthful days as an orphan on earth. Shepard stopped, placing them behind her back. "There have been developments that you need to know.", she replied.

"Commander.", he waited. Watching her suspicious behavior.

"I have a report I'm sending you now.", she typed the files to his terminal, "You'll want to read this."

Hackett received the file, sending it to his private cabin on board his cruiser. "I'll vid-comm you after I've gone over its contents."

"Thank you, sir.", Shepard replied.

"Hackett out.", his image was gone.

Shepard took a deep breath. No more secrets. She spent some time making her rounds, observing the crew. They looked drained, exhaustion etched on their faces, yet an unyielding fire of determination burned in their eyes. They believed—truly believed—that they could defeat the Reapers.

She eventually found herself standing outside Garrus's door, the entrance to the main battery. With a resolute inhale, she stepped inside. The soft hum of the machinery filled the room, and there he was, engrossed in his work at the console, eyes fixed on the data streaming across the screen. Without turning around, Garrus spoke, his voice a mix of familiarity and focus.

"Shepard, I looked over your mission report. Gotta say, it feels like we've been after these reapers forever...", he sighed. "From Sovereign to Leviathan... they've been a pain in the ass the whole time. But at least we're starting to see the big picture."

Shepard stepped next to him, staring away at the battery system. Garrus continued, "Never really thought we'd get any answers. It doesn't change much, but it does make this war feel a whole lot bigger."

"Yeah. More like, galactic paradox big," she murmured, a note of unease in her voice. Shepard's eyes darted around the room, her mind racing. Should she tell Garrus what she had witnessed? The weight of the decision pressed heavily on her. "There's something I need to tell you," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Garrus watched Shepard act a bit unsettled. "Tell me?", he asked.

Shepard ran her fingers through her red hair, letting out a deep sigh. She walked to his cot and took a seat, the rough grey blanket feeling like a weight against her worries. Garrus, sensing the gravity of the moment, knelt in front of her, his eyes searching hers for answers. "Is it Leviathan?" he asked, his voice tight with anxiety.

"No.", she reassured.

Garrus stood up to sit next to her. Leaning out to see her face, "Then what did happen, exactly?"

"You've read the mission report. How Leviathan took over my mind, for a while, to converse with me. Show me things.", she said.

Garrus nodded his head.

Shepard's gaze narrowed in concern. "He brought Satima into it. Leviathan... extracted memories from her. Terrible memories.", she started to wring her hands again.

This clearly had her completely uncomfortable. "So that would explain what happened on the deck while you were gone.", Garrus concluded, the image of an empowered and controlled Satima sent a shiver down his plated spine.

Shepard's nod was almost imperceptible, her mind racing as she prepared to unveil the truth. "Satima was subjected to horrific experiments," she began, her voice trembling with anger and sorrow. "The Reapers, they had a woman—a terrifying figure who seemed to relish in Satima's torment, overseeing her torture daily. This woman, she's the reason Satima possesses those lethal skills."

She shifted uneasily beside him, her gaze fixed on the floor. "But the most terrifying fact," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "is that Leviathan told her... us—that no matter what we do, I'm going to be harvested." Shepard's eyes met his, filled with grim determination and fear.

Garrus stared, disturbed and full of worry.

"What if I become their vanguard? Just like Saren. What if I'm the liability all along?", Her voice sure in its tone of the ultimatum that is her future.

Garrus glanced down, his mind racing with the gravity of the situation. The thought of Shepard becoming like Saren, completely loyal to the Reapers and covered in Reaper tech, sent a shudder through him. His fists clenched involuntarily, the room's hum intensifying the tension between them.

Shepard continued, her voice strained. "I've not been honest with you about my dreams," she confessed, looking directly into Garrus's eyes. Tears began to form, a gloss of vulnerability she rarely showed. "I have terrifying nightmares. They're so horrible... I dread going to sleep." Garrus took her hand in his, squeezing it gently, his touch a silent promise of unwavering support.

"On Earth, there was a boy who used to play in the yard below my window during my brief incarceration. I'd watch him, finding some semblance of joy in his laughter, his innocence. But when the Reapers came," she paused, her voice cracking with emotion, "after Anderson helped me escape the Alliance Command Center, I found him hiding in an air duct of a bombed-out building."

She cleared her throat, trying to steady her voice. "I tried to help him. He was trembling, eyes wide with fear, and he whispered, 'You can't save me.' Then, in the blink of an eye, he vanished when I turned to answer Anderson. As we were leaving on the Normandy, I caught a glimpse of him boarding an evac shuttle with other survivors," she recounted, her voice cracking.

Shepard closed her eyes, haunted by the memory. "Oh God! The screams... they were terrified," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She looked up at the ceiling, her eyes burning with unshed tears, her knuckles white as she gripped the edge of the cot. "A Reaper, smaller than Harbinger but just as deadly, came out of nowhere... and it obliterated him, right in front of my eyes!"

She let out a bitter, almost hysterical laugh as hot tears streamed down her cheeks. "The Reaper just obliterated the shuttle, like it was nothing. No remorse... no pity. He’s dead! Because I didn’t drag him out of that building!"

Shepard's eyes snapped open, her voice thick with regret. "I could’ve saved him! He deserved to live! He was just a child!"

Garrus sat, shocked and tense. He wanted to grab her, to hold her tightly, but this was Shepard. Immovable, strong Shepard. He feared that if he touched her, she would shatter into a thousand fragile pieces. Her already damaged resolve was a stark testament to how this war was destroying the Shepard he knew.

She calmed herself, looking back at him with a haunted expression. "I see him when I sleep. I see him burning. Each night it gets worse, and I question... is it even real? Was he real?" Her eyes were wild, filled with a mix of fear and desperation. "Am I real?"

Garrus wrapped his arms around Shepard, holding her close as she silently wept against his chest. Gently stroking her hair, he murmured, "You are real, Shepard. What happened to that boy was beyond your control. You did everything within your power to save him." His voice was a soft echo in the dimly lit room, a fleeting comfort against the relentless grip of sorrow that clung to both of them.

Shepard glanced at him as he held her gently. "It wasn't enough." She calmed down again, her voice barely above a whisper. "That woman, the one Leviathan showed me. She looked like me. Changed... but it was me."

She stared at Garrus with an uncontrollable fear. "I believe I'm the one that trained and tortured Satima. That's why she could never tell me the truth. When she sees me, she sees that monster."

Shepard tried getting up but Garrus held her to him. "Stay with me, a little longer, until I know you're going to be okay." His deep sub-vocal tone sent a warm protective feeling to her. She complied for once and let Garrus keep her a little while longer.

..............................................................
Med-bay

Satima awoke hours later, her head heavy with the weight of restless dreams. The bright lights of the med-bay pierced through her aching skull, intensifying her pain. She blinked slowly, trying to focus as the familiar figure of Dr. Chockwas came into view beside her.

"You've been out for quite a while," Dr. Chockwas said gently, her voice a soothing balm against the harshness of reality. "We've nearly reached the Citadel."

Satima sat up slowly, her mind racing as she processed the information.

Dr. Chockwas smiled warmly, her eyes twinkling with a hint of reassurance. Satima blinked, confusion clouding her features. "Why are we heading to the Citadel?" she asked, her voice weak but curious.
Swinging her legs over the edge of the examination table, Satima tried to sit up fully. The world around her began to stabilize, the dizziness slowly ebbing away.

"The Commander has decided we all need some R&R. About time, if you ask me.", the doctor chuckled.

Satima stood up, stretching her back. The satisfying pop of her knuckles made Chockwas cringe. Then a sudden realization came to her. Leviathan. "Where's Shepard!", Satima asked, frantically.

"She's in her cabin.", Chockwas answered.

Satima started to walk out quickly. Chockwas sat at her desk, typing away on the computer. "She's not alone, by the way."

Satima grunted in irritation, still proceeding to the elevator anyway. The ride up went by faster than before, while she wrung her hands tightly, nervous for what she was about to finally reveal. She stepped out to face Shepard's door.

"Here we go.", she said to herself, taking a small breath.

The cabin door slid open, the hiss of the mechanism cutting through the tense silence. Garrus stood there, a formidable figure framed by the harsh lighting. His eyes locked onto Satima, a flicker of anger and something else—something unspoken—flashing briefly before he stepped aside.

"Come in," he said, his voice low and controlled, but the underlying tension was palpable.

Satima moved slowly, her heart pounding in her chest. She could feel his gaze burning into her back, every step amplifying the unease gnawing at her insides. She didn't understand why he seemed so angry, but the air between them was charged, thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions.

Shepard sat at her terminal, her eyes never leaving the screen. "Sit," she commanded, her tone allowing no room for argument.

Satima perched on the top step, the tension in the room almost suffocating. She felt like a child about to be reprimanded, the anticipation of the unknown tightening her chest. Garrus loomed over her, his presence imposing and unyielding. The silence stretched, each second ticking by amplifying the unease.

Finally, Shepard turned to face her, a stern look in her eyes. "We need to talk," she began, her voice low and steady, laden with an unspoken gravity that made Satima's heart pound even harder.

His gaze hardened, arms crossing in a clear show of disapproval as he leaned against the large fish tank. The ambient light glinted off the water, casting ripples of light and shadow across his face. Satima's worry deepened; Garrus had only recently begun to trust her, to truly let her in as part of the Normandy crew. Now, that fragile connection seemed on the brink of shattering.

Shepard powered off her terminal and slowly turned to face Satima, her expression unreadable. "I remember what Leviathan showed me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, yet laden with intensity. "I'm also sure you do as well. And so does he," she added, jerking her head toward Garrus.

Satima gulped, keeping quiet, noting the redness in the Commander's eyes. Shepard leaned forward, her hands firmly placed on her knees. She seemed lost in thought for a moment before her piercing gaze locked onto Satima. "Hours ago, I forwarded a report about you to Admiral Hackett of the Alliance."

Satima felt her heart race, the worry evident on her face. Shepard raised a reassuring hand, "You can trust him. He's aware of the delicate situation you're in and the secrecy we’ve maintained. But I couldn't keep the Alliance in the dark any longer."

Satima's shoulders slumped, and her gaze fell to the floor. The weight of the situation pressed down on her, making her feel small and powerless. Her hope seemed to drain away, leaving only a sense of defeat.

Shepard continued, her voice dropping to a chilling whisper, "If you have information—and I know you do—that could damn me as Harbinger's puppet, the Alliance needs to know. They must be prepared to stop me. If I become compromised, Garrus will be the first to take action. I refuse to let history repeat itself, even if it means jeopardizing your future." Shepard's words hung heavy in the air, each one a dagger of imminent reality.

So, that's why Garrus looks ready to kill, his anger barely contained. And why Shepard seemed like she had been under immense stress. Had she been crying?

Satima's eyes flashed with anger as she turned to Shepard, her voice shaking, "You think I went through hell and back just to save my own skin?" She glared at Garrus, then back at the commander. "I was terrified that if I told you the truth, you'd turn on me, lock me up, or worse." Satima's voice rose, each word laced with desperation.

"I acted on what small knowledge I had on you. I would've already said something if he hadn't interfered." She pointed to Garrus, who clicked his mandibles in obvious frustration. Shepard's gaze flicked to him, then back to Satima.

"I know. I realize that the woman who hurt you is me. Was me. I'm not going to let that happen." Shepard's voice was firm, yet there was a hint of vulnerability that made the atmosphere even more charged.

Satima glanced at Garrus, biting her lower lip in apparent nervousness. Her eyes darted quickly between Shepard and Garrus, reflecting the inner turmoil she felt. Her fingers fidgeted, twisting the hem of her uniform as if seeking an anchor.

Garrus noticed the tension in her shoulders and the way her breath hitched slightly. His mandibles clicked softly in concern as he watched her struggle with the decision.

"It is and it isn't you, there's more.", she relayed, as she turned back to Shepard.

"More?" Garrus demanded, his tone sharp as he glared at Satima. Every muscle in his body tensed with suspicion. She was an enigma with unsettlingly precise knowledge about him and Shepard. He had to dig deeper, had to uncover the truth before it was too late.

Satima nodded, her voice tinged with resignation, "Yes, more. You all know I am part human and turian, and even though I wasn't trusted from the beginning, you let me stay."

Garrus uncrossed his arms, his stern expression softening slightly. Satima brought a knee to her chest, wrapping her arms around it for support, a smirk playing on her lips.

"What's funny?", Shepard demanded, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Satima questioned Shepard with her gaze. "You don't see it?"

"No," Garrus replied, stepping beside Shepard, his irritation evident. His dark eyes bore into Satima's with an intensity.

"Look at me. Really, look at me," Satima's voice trembled with urgency, her eyes wide and pleading. Shepard tilted her head, a skeptical eyebrow raised, but obliged.

"We know you're a hybrid," Shepard countered, her tone edged with impatience.

"No, not that. Just... look closer," Satima insisted, a flicker of desperation in her eyes. The room seemed to hold its breath as the tension thickened.

Shepard's eyes scanned Satima's features once more, this time with a keener interest. The girl's ginger hair framed her face like a fiery halo, and the four fingers on each hand added to her alien allure. A slightly prominent brow hinted at a fusion of flesh and turian plate, while her teal-rimmed eyes, set against black sclera, shimmered with an otherworldly intensity. When she smiled, the small, sharpened teeth—predator cuspids—glinted dangerously, a stark reminder of her turian heritage.

Her neck arched slightly, hinting at the presence of a small carapace—a telltale sign of her turian lineage. Shepard had initially thought Satima's perpetual slouch was due to a lack of confidence, her tendency to linger in the shadows of the core room reinforcing that impression. Yet, observing her closely now, Shepard recognized the latent power coiled within Satima’s average frame, a harmonious blend of human and turian attributes. Everything about Satima, from her height and posture to her unique features, screamed hybrid—a fascinating fusion of two worlds.

Shepard huffed, exhaling a sigh of exasperation. "What in the hell is Satima talking about?" she wondered, her mind racing to decode the hybrid's cryptic plea.

Satima's shoulders drooped as she cast her eyes downward in a resigned defeat. A wave of melancholy washed over her, knowing this was a truth perhaps best left hidden. Despite the revelations from Leviathan, Shepard would never understand that she was looking at her own genetic daughter.

At that moment, a recent memory flashed in Garrus' mind, one that mirrored Satima's look of defeat. He recalled the time Shepard had approached him, burdened with the weight of staggering revelations. The same weariness and resignation were now evident in Satima's eyes.

On closer inspection, Satima and Shepard share striking similarities, with the same jawline and mouth shape. Their red hair glows like embers, hinting at a hidden connection. Although Satima's brow bears a more turian influence, her nose—revealed as she turned to the side—was unmistakably Shepard's. The revelation hit Garrus like a thunderbolt, connecting dots he hadn't even known existed.

"Son of a bitch.", he muttered.

"What?", Shepard asked, confused.

Garrus approached Satima cautiously, his eyes narrowing with curiosity and suspicion. She shifted uneasily under his intense scrutiny, her discomfort palpable. He took a deep breath as if steeling himself for what he was about to say. "You're a clone, aren't you?" he asked, his voice low and charged with tension.

Shepard stood to attention, eyes widened with hesitation. "Garrus?"

Satima's reaction was immediate and visceral. Her eyes widened in shock, and a flash of anger crossed her face. "No!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with a mixture of indignation and desperation.

Garrus stepped back, surprised by the intensity of her response. He had expected many things, but not this vehement denial. The room seemed to hold its breath, the air thick with an electric tension as Shepard and Garrus exchanged uncertain glances.

Satima's shoulders heaved as she tried to regain her composure. "I'm not a clone," she said more softly, but with a resolute firmness that left no room for doubt. "There's more to this than you know."

"Then enlighten us!", Shepard demanded.

Satima's eyes flicked between them, her breath quickening as a sense of hopelessness gripped her. Her gaze fell, heart sinking deeper into despair. She had to tell them the truth, but they were so consumed by the Reaper threat that they couldn't see what was right in front of them.

"I'm… I'm her daughter," Satima confessed, her voice trembling with a sorrowful weight.

Garrus took a step back, his eyes narrowing further. "You're lying," he accused, his voice sharp and edged with suspicion.

Satima lifted her distraught gaze to him. "No! I'm not!" she yelled, her voice cracking with the weight of her emotions. Tears welled up in her eyes, and her hands trembled as she clenched them into fists, the anguish evident in her entire being.

"Why the turian features?" Garrus asked, his voice faltering. He folded his arms tightly, as if trying to shield himself from the inevitable truth his gut was hinting at. The pounding of his heart grew louder, each beat echoing his internal conflict. He wanted to dismiss it, to ignore the nagging suspicion, but the evidence was right before his eyes.

Shepard stepped closer to Satima, her eyes widening with the sudden realization of the conversation's gravity. Satima looked at the commander, then back to Garrus, her entire body trembling. "You're my…" she started, her voice barely above a whisper. She gulped, her hands wringing tightly together as she stared away, unable to meet Garrus's gaze. "You're my father, Garrus."

Her voice cracked under the weight of the revelation, and her eyes reflected a deep-seated fear. The words hung in the air, heavy with the truth that she had kept hidden for so long. Satima's breath quickened, her entire being consumed by the terror of what this revelation might mean for her, for Garrus, and for their fight against the Reapers.

Satima watched them both exchange glances, her revelation hanging heavy in the air. "Javik knows," she said, her voice strained. "He was helping me keep it a secret, so I could protect you both."

She turned abruptly, striking the hull with a clenched fist. The sound echoed through the room, a stark reminder to her frustration. Facing them again, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, she continued, "I didn't ask for this! I didn't ask to be created. All I wanted was to be free of The Directive and to live with... be with Jormun. I deserved that much."
Her voice trembled as she addressed Shepard, "I don't expect either of you to ever accept this, but if you could please not hold this against me. It's not my fault the Reapers made me!"

The room fell into a profound silence, the weight of her words pressing down on everyone present. The reality of the situation seemed too immense to fully grasp, and the tension between them grew palpable, like a storm gathering strength.

Shepard's breath hitched, the suffocating silence in the cabin amplifying the tension. Satima's eyes darted between them, desperate for any sign of acknowledgment, but there was only a deafening stillness.

Believing that the silence was a sign of their indignation, Satima felt her heart shatter into a thousand pieces. Despair enveloped her as she turned away, leaving the cabin with her sorrow weighing heavily on her shoulders.

"She is yours and the reapers progeny Shepard, and you must accept this. Or all will fall.", Leviathan whispered in Shepard's mind.

Garrus collapsed into Shepard's chair, his mind spinning with confusion and disbelief. He stared at the fish tank, the swirling water mirroring his chaotic thoughts. Could this future be true? His own daughter, created by the Reapers? It seemed biologically impossible, yet the evidence was undeniable.

He tried to steady his thoughts, but the realization kept crashing over him like relentless waves.

As much as he had dreamed of a possible future with Shepard, the idea of having a family together, this revelation twisted that dream into a nightmare. Not like this. Not forced upon them by their sworn enemies. How could he accept Satima, knowing the origins of her creation? It wasn't her fault, he understood that much. She was just as much a victim of the Reapers as they were. But the very essence of her being was a reminder of everything they fought against.

Garrus's heart ached with the conflict. He had been nothing but harsh and accusing towards Satima from the beginning, never realizing the depth of their connection. His own daughter. The thought was both a revelation and a torment. He had hurt her, pushed her away, and now the truth left him reeling.

He glanced at Shepard, who stood silently beside him, her presence a steadying force amidst the chaos. Could they truly keep this a secret? Would it have been better if they had? No, he knew it would come out eventually, if they all survived this war. Satima would seek answers, and Shepard would be there to offer them. The family resemblance would become undeniable, just as it had now.

Garrus remembered Satima’s dark eyes. His sister and mother used to say he had an intense gaze, and now he saw it reflected in Satima. Spirits, he had been so wrong about her. He didn't want to accept it, didn't want to believe that she was his. But deep down, he knew the truth. And it was tearing him apart.

The room fell into a profound silence, the weight of the revelation pressing down on everyone present. Garrus felt the tension between them grow like a storm gathering strength. He struggled to find the words, to make sense of what this meant for him, for Satima, and for their fight against the Reapers.

As he looked around the room for Shepard, seeking her support, he knew he had to find a way to accept this new reality. But for now, the struggle within him raged on, and the future remained uncertain.

She sat on the same steps Satima previously occupied, her mind racing. "How could I have been so blind? The answers were staring at me in the face the whole time. Her defiance, her uncanny persistence, all of it." Shepard shook her head, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. "And to think, it was Mordin's curiosity that revealed the truth... that she is both human and turian."

Garrus leaned out of the chair, head hung low. "I can't... can't accept this easily. You understand, Shepard." He paused, his mind swirling with emotions, and then the words slipped out before he could stop them, "I don't want to accept her as my daughter, I can't. Not like this."

She looked up at him, "Why? Because she's not fully turian?"

"Wait… what? That's not…" he tried explaining.

Shepard's expression hardened with resolve. "It doesn't matter, Garrus. She's my responsibility now." Her voice was steady, unwavering. "We can't change her origins, but we can decide her future. I won't abandon her, not when she needs us the most."

Garrus glanced at Shepard, the weight of the revelation still heavy on his shoulders. "Shepard, how am I supposed to look at her, knowing everything? How do I address her?"

"I don't think she expects you to accept her as anything more than a friend," Shepard murmured, her voice heavy with empathy. "If you can give her that, it might be enough for now. But me...," she paused, her eyes reflecting a distant sorrow, "I have a daughter to look after. She's still young, vulnerable, and my responsibility from the start. I'm not going to force you into anything that brings you discomfort, Garrus.”

Garrus nodded slowly, his heart heavy with the weight of the new reality. The pain of realizing the shift in dynamics between him and Shepard regarding Satima tore at his very core. He stood, feeling the strain in his muscles as if they carried the burden of his torment. With each step towards the door, he felt the chasm between him and the life he once knew widen. He stopped, words lingering on the edge of his lips, begging to be spoken, but the anguish held them back. He glanced back at Shepard, a silent plea in his eyes, but he found no solace there. Steeling himself, he continued to leave, each step echoing the sorrow of a father who could not yet embrace his daughter.

Shepard walked slowly to her bed, sitting on the edge. Her eyes widened as she tried to process the revelation, her mind racing. "I have a daughter," she repeated, her voice filled with astonishment. "The Reapers made me... a daughter." The weight of those words hung heavy in the air, the shock and disbelief evident in her every expression. She ran a trembling hand through her hair, her breath catching as the reality of the situation began to sink in. Her thoughts spun, struggling to grasp the enormity of the truth that had just been unveiled.

Chapter Text

The Normandy had finally docked at the Citadel, and the crew hummed with excitement, eager to escape the confines of the ship and explore. For too long, they had been cooped up among the stars, and now, the prospect of solid ground and new adventures beckoned them. While most of the crew prepared for a much-needed break, a select few stayed behind to oversee the crucial repairs that the Normandy desperately needed.

The chief tech adviser, Samantha Traynor, was among those who stayed behind. Shepard approached her at the galaxy map console, noticing how engrossed she was with her work. "Traynor," Shepard started with a mischievous grin, "when all these repairs are wrapped up, how about you join me for a drink at a bar? I think we both could use a break."

Traynor glanced up, a sparkle in her eye as she met Shepard's gaze. "Oh, you know I'm in," she replied with a grin. "As soon as the repair team wraps up, I'm hunting down some quality tequila. Then, it's time to let loose. I'll catch up with you soon, Commander."

Shepard chuckled, imagining the impending night of laughter and camaraderie. "Sounds like a plan, Traynor. We'll toast to the Normandy and to finally having a moment to breathe." The anticipation of a well-deserved break was inviting, and for the first time in a long while, the weight of the galaxy seemed to lighten. Shepard couldn't wait to see her crew relax and enjoy themselves, a rare respite from the constant battles they faced. The thought of sharing stories and drinks with friends brought a smile to her face.

Outside on the docks, Shepard summoned a cab to her new apartment that Anderson had given her. There was a shadow of worry in her thoughts, wondering if he was giving away too much, as if he didn't expect to come back from Earth alive. The looming battles weighed heavily on her mind, but for now, she allowed herself brief respite.

Meanwhile, Garrus lingered a bit longer in the main battery, lost in thought. Shepard appeared to be in better spirits, which was a relief. Yet, he couldn't shake the confusion over how effortlessly she seemed to move past Satima's revelations. Satima's words echoed in his mind, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt over his own reaction. He knew he hadn't handled it well, and the gravity of the situation weighed on him. How could he have been so dismissive of both Shepard and Satima's feelings?

“Hold it together, Garrus,” he reminded himself, trying to shake off the persistent thoughts. This was for Shepard, but the questions kept nagging at him.

Satima; a girl who shares the same DNA as him. The revelation spiraled through Garrus's mind, intertwining with his doubts and fears. How had their paths converged in such a tumultuous way? And why had Satima's biotic abilities manifested so unexpectedly? It was as if every answer only birthed new questions.

Garrus wished he could seek guidance from his father, who had always been a pillar of wisdom and strength. If only he could hear his father’s thoughts, perhaps the confusion would dissipate. But the gulf of space and his own pride kept him silent.

The need to communicate this revelation to his family gnawed at him, but where to begin? The thought of his family's faces, their shock, their concern, weighed heavily on his heart. They deserved to know the truth, yet how could he explain the inexplicable?

“Spirits, help me make sense of this," he muttered, feeling the isolation of his burden. For now, he had to hold it together—for Shepard and for the promise of clarity that lay somewhere beyond the horizon.

As the shuttle cruised through the vibrant wards of the Citadel, Shepard found herself mesmerized by the dazzling neon holo lights and signs that adorned the bustling cityscape. For a moment, she felt a sense of calm wash over her, a welcome from the chaos of her recent days. She was grateful that her new apartment wasn't situated in the presidium, with its endless bureaucratic nonsense and the constant facade of diplomatic pleasantry.

Here, amidst the lively energy of the wards, she could almost forget the weight of duty that hung over her, if only for a fleeting moment.

All those seemingly unbothered asari, acting as if Thessia's downfall was a distant dream. They strutted about with their usual haughty demeanor, never acknowledging the catastrophe that had befallen their world. The ever-watchful Turian C-Sec officers, with their unwavering vigilance, and the humans, always eager to expand their influence, often overstepping their bounds. Each race had its quirks, its blind spots, and its delusions.
The Alliance had started to thin itself out, spreading too far into space, too far from home.

Everything would've had a better outcome, if they all believed her in the first place. Sovereign himself attempting to take the citadel and slaughtering thousands in the process, wasn't enough "proof" the reapers existed.

Bet they all regret it now. Too bad for them... and too damn late for the galaxy.

The cab came to a smooth halt in front of a towering building, its structure adorned with vibrant green neon lights that seemed to pulse with the heartbeat of the city. As Shepard stepped out, the throng of bustling commuters parted around her, their hurried lives momentarily intersecting with her own.

She was no stranger to the hustle and bustle of city life, having grown up as an orphan on the crowded streets of Earth. The constant noise, the throngs of people, and the ever-present undercurrent of danger had shaped her into who she was today. As she entered the building, an asari receptionist greeted her with a warm smile. Shepard approached the counter, her heart still pounding from the adrenaline of the city. "Hi, I'm here for apartment 408. It's under the name Anderson."

The asari's eyes widened with excitement, "Oh my stars, you must be Commander Shepard! The hero of the Citadel and savior of the galaxy! It's such an honor to meet you." She hurriedly handed over the key-card, almost bouncing on her feet with enthusiasm. "Thank you for choosing Titan Arms, Commander. If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask!"

Shepard forced a smile, feeling a bit awkward under the asari's enthusiastic gaze, and accepted the key-card with a nod. "Thank you," she said, her voice betraying a slight hesitation. She quickly got into the elevator as the asari smiled at her again, waving.

The elevator ascended smoothly, a soft hum accompanying Shepard's thoughts. When the doors slid open, she stepped into a corridor bathed in the gentle glow of ambient lighting. The hallway turned right, leading her to a scene that took her breath away.

In front of her, a stunning panorama of the cityscape unfolded, with the vibrant energy of the bustling ward visible through the large windows. Neon signs flickered and danced, casting a kaleidoscope of colors that reflected the pulse of the city.

At the end of the hall, she spotted the only door, its sleek design hinting at the luxury that lay beyond. Anderson must have spared no expense to secure this prime real estate. With a mixture of anticipation and curiosity, she approached the door and unlocked it.

The door opened to reveal a stunning, modern apartment with an open floor plan that radiated luxury and sophistication. The living and dining areas were elegantly separated by a long, sleek fireplace, while an inviting family room, complete with a fully stocked bar, beckoned from beyond. Shepard couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement and satisfaction at the sight before her.

She couldn't wait to invite the whole Normandy crew over to experience this luxurious haven. The spacious apartment, with its modern elegance and breathtaking views, seemed like the perfect place for them to unwind and bond. The thought of her friends' reactions filled her with a warm sense of anticipation and joy.

Shepard received a comm from Traynor, "Commander, I've got Admiral Anderson on the QEC. Patching him through to you now."

To her left, Shepard spotted a wall terminal. She turned the screen on, and Admiral Anderson's face came into view. "Shepard," he greeted, his tone grave. Behind him, the scene was one of destruction—a damaged building with grey ash covering the floor and a burnt couch shoved against the wall. He was clearly in an apartment, but one that was the complete opposite of the luxury she currently stood in.

The contrast between her surroundings and his was stark and immediately set her on edge. "Admiral. How are you holding up?", she asked concerned.

"Day by day, Commander.", he answered.

"Yeah.", she replied. He looked so tired. "Hackett sent me a message about this apartment."

"I want you to have it. Take it off my hands.", he said with a smile.
Shepard raised her eye in suspicion, "Are you serious?"

"You need a place that's yours-someplace to recharge, clear your head.", he said. Shepard turned around, looking at the fireplace, imagining herself and Garrus cozying up in front of it."Kahlee wanted us to settle down there. Thing is, the longer I'm on Earth, the less I want to leave.", Anderson glanced back to the damaged walls in the building he was standing in.

Shepard understood what he meant. Not wanting to leave Earth, either. She peaked into the large kitchen, it had a dining room with table and chairs beyond.

Shepard stopped short of the family room, with a bigger screen on the wall in front of the second couch. She walked to the window, overlooking cars as they passed by below.

A yellow Armax arena sign illuminated her surroundings. Anderson's frame showing on the second screen. "And I want as few loose ends out there as possible. Like I said, you'd be doing me a favor."

Shepard turned to the screen, "That's very generous."

"It's practical. We need you in the best shape possible. Rested. Focused.", Anderson ordered her.

"If you say so. Thank you.", Shepard replied.

"And make yourself at home, damn it. It's yours now.", Anderson blared.

Shepard chuckled, "I'm sure I can manage."

"Okay. Good. Been meaning to do that for a while. I'll talk to you soon. And Shepard... keep your ace in the hole close. If the enemy ever found out about her... we all could lose you both.", Anderson narrowed his gaze a bit.

"Understood. Be careful out there, Anderson.", she said.

"You too, Shepard.", he turned off the vid-call on his end. Returning to his grim reality. The Reapers were decimating this planet. All life, plants and animals had practically been wiped out.

One his own men broke down, when he heard all the horses in the world were most likely extinct. His family owned a ranch.

Anderson also had to bear the weight of breaking the terrible news of death to them. Friends, family and lovers... all dead. "Rest up, Shepard. Then come back and give the Reapers hell to pay.", he said to himself.
..........

Shepard explored the apartment, finding random journal entries from Anderson on furniture or desks. He had a whole biography planned. Even mentioning her, and the first day she came on board the Normandy.

Their friendship truly started there.

On the kitchen counter, Shepard listened to an entry from Anderson. He was questioned about Shepard.

Anderson: "There's been a lot written about the Commander. Most of it, isn't true. People are quick to judge. They don't know the whole story. I don't even know the whole story.", he continues, "But I know the woman. Worked with her, fought with her. Trust her with my life."

Shepard leaned on the counter, listening more intently. "Shepard's had some rough patches. Who of us hasn't. She's been forced to fight a lot of battles alone. God only knows how she got out of some of that. Makes your head spin.", he takes a deep sigh. A sound of a quick sip from a glass. "Thing is, you never heard a complaint. Never once got "No, sir. I can't do that."

Satima walked in. She whistled low to the expanse of the spacious apartment. "Nice.", she muttered.

A man's voice continued talking from the kitchen as she slowly peaked in to see. "She never hesitated. Few people know what Shepard's been through. I'd like to think I come pretty close. And I worry sometimes she forgets: there's a whole bunch of people who'll lose sleep over her getting back home. Maybe it doesn't need to be said. Maybe we're too dumb to say it. Soldiers like the Commander are rare. Women like Shepard... even more rare."

Shepard sighed. She felt honored, embarrassed... Anderson spoke highly of her. "Wow. I didn't know that much about you.", Satima said as she entered the kitchen.

Shepard spun around at the girl's voice and held back a blush of embarrassment, "Yeah, well. I'm still just a soldier."

Satima smirked, "But one that is respected and looked up to. You defeated a Reaper not once but twice! And stopped the collectors, stopped your crew from being turned to organic mush. Yeah, I did a little studying in the core room. You're phenomenal! Extraordinary! One of a kind! So, stop being an idiot, and enjoy this."

Satima smiled. Shepard laughed to herself, "Alright. Just this once. I'll be awesome."

"Damn straight!", Satima shouted.

A VI in the room interrupted with a message. Satima had already begun eating whatever was in the fridge. With a mouth full of food, she spoke to Shepard, "Looks like you got a message. I'll stick around. Find something to do."

Shepard walked into the den. It also had a roaring fireplace, poker table and small bar. Beyond that was a desk with a terminal on it. She looked at its contents. A message from Joker... curious.

"Dinner at sushi place on me! I've got a few things I wanted to go over with you. With Normandy in dry dock, I figured we could meet up at that Ryuusei sushi place down in the Wards. I hear it's the best.
Joker."

Shepard tilted her head, contemplating whether she wanted to venture out to the sushi restaurant. But first, she needed to shed her military attire. This outing was meant to be a respite from the chaos.

Upstairs, she opened a drawer and discovered an unexpected treasure trove of women's clothing, likely belonging to Kahlee. Among the assortment, a sleek black cocktail dress caught her eye. "You’re perfect for tonight," she muttered with a smirk.

With a renewed sense of purpose, Shepard slipped into the dress, feeling an unusual blend of elegance and defiance. She took one last glance in the mirror, straightened her posture, and headed out.

Shepard descended the stairs, her heels clicking rhythmically against the polished wood, as Satima lounged in the family room, flipping through countless entertainment channels. She looked up, her eyes widening in surprise and admiration. "Wow, Shepard! You look... not at all like someone who's been fighting Reapers. I mean, you look stunning! Is this for a date with Garrus?" she teased, raising an inquisitive eyebrow.

"No. Joker.", Shepard replied.

Satima stared in confusion, "The Pilot?"

Shepard laughed out loud, "It's not a romantic date. He invited me to dinner... as a friend."

Satima sulked in her seat on the couch, "I knew that.", she muttered, embarrassed.

As the cab glided through the bustling streets of the Citadel, Shepard marveled at the neon signs of Castle Arcade and the bright lights of Silver Coast Casino. The sheer scale of the Citadel never ceased to amaze her; its vast expanse held countless secrets and new experiences, each waiting to be uncovered. This evening, she ventured into a part of the Ward she had never explored before.

As the cab came to a smooth stop at the dock platform, Shepard stepped out and was immediately drawn to the pulsating beat of bass emanating from an open terrace restaurant. The alluring glow of large fish tanks housing an array of exotic fish illuminated the venue, casting a mesmerizing spectacle. A sushi place with fish tanks, she mused, her curiosity piqued.

As she reached the top of the stairwell, a concierge eagerly waved her over, his face lighting up with recognition. Shepard raised an amused eyebrow and approached him, her curiosity piqued. Behind her, a line of disgruntled patrons grumbled, clearly annoyed that this elegantly dressed woman could bypass the queue. Shepard couldn't help but smirk; little did they know, she had saved their lives more times than they could count. Tonight, however, was not about duty but about stealing a few moments of normalcy from the chaos of war.

"Ah, Commander Shepard. Your table is ready.", the concierge informed in his French accent, leading her to a table. Joker sat on the opposite side of the open bar.

The entire floor resembled a mesmerizing underwater world, with Shepard's heels clicking softly against the surface. As she walked, the bio-luminescent blue glow of the fish tank beneath her feet created an ethereal ambiance, casting an otherworldly shimmer that danced with each step. She couldn't help but marvel at the ingenuity of turning the restaurant into such an aquatic spectacle. One couldn't help but wonder about the thrill and danger if this tank ever shattered, releasing a cascade of water and vibrant marine life. The thought sent a shiver down her spine, adding a thrilling edge to her evening escapade.

As Shepard sauntered past the tables, she caught snippets of animated conversations about careers, romances, and daily life. A group of turians caught her attention, clearly savoring their dextro sushi. Interesting, she mused. Perhaps she should bring Garrus and Tali here sometime. Or better yet, just Garrus, for a more intimate evening.

At the square table, Shepard took a seat next to Joker. He still wore his military uniform but seemed comfortable enough. He cocked a look at her, "Practicing for Garrus?"

"Can it, flight lieutenant.", she replied, taking her seat.

"So, Shepard. Not bad, huh? This sushi place is serious. Like "French guy at the door" serious. Only had to save the galaxy twice to get a table here. You've seen the line outside?", Joker commented.

As they both glanced to the line, a young woman in Alliance blues was frantically trying to get their attention, while the French doorman kept her from disturbing them.

They ignored it for the time being, with Joker raising a glass, and continuing his conversation. "But here I am, drink in hand. The best pilot in the universe and a rock star."

Shepard chuckled at him. She took a sip of complimentary water, getting curious about the Alliance girl. "Any news from the Normandy?", she asked.

Joker rolled his eyes. He only wanted to talk about himself, the incredible meal they were about to have and then... EDI. But he obliged the Commander's question. "Ah, you know. Maintenance stuff. It's hard knowing a bunch of strangers are poking around in my ship. I mean... your ship.", he laughed nervously.

"It's our ship, Joker. And the best thing we can do right now is park her, letting the techs do their job.", she said.

Joker relaxed in his chair, facing Shepard. "Yeah, you're right. Maybe an oil change, space-tire rotation."

"Right. Trust me, it'll do her some good.", Shepard reassured.

"Oh, I trust you. Not sure about those shifty aerospace engineers. Always stealing the silverware.", Joker darted his eyes in a shifty expression.

"This is like a vacation. Let someone else do the work for once. Hackett's orders. You're on shore leave, remember.", Shepard took a glass and offered a moment with Joker. He toasted a small agreement between them to enjoy this R&R. "Yeah, whether we like it or not.", he said.

They bantered about their drinks, with Shepard playfully suggesting she could use her Spectre status to get them extra cocktail umbrellas. Joker chuckled, remarking that it would be an epic use of power, making Shepard laugh in return.

"So... your email said it was important?", Joker asked.

Shepard glanced, puzzled. "My email? I'm here because I got a message from you."

Joker watched Shepard down a drink. He looked at her confused, "The hell? I didn't send anything..."

At that moment, the Alliance officer came running towards them. She held a data pad firmly in her hand. "Commander! Excuse me. Sorry. Alliance business.", as she bumped into restaurant patrons, "Commander, this is urgent!"

"I don't think that's the umbrella lady.", Joker mused.

"Commander Shepard, I'm Staff Analyst Maya Brooks. Alliance-excuse me", she saluted,"-Alliance Intelligence. There are people trying to kill you.", she panted from running.

Joker and Shepard exchanged glances, "Yeah... I think she's aware of that.", he said.

She seemed frantic. Looking around like a frightened animal, "No, I don't mean Cerberus and the Reapers! I mean other people! New people! They're... It's..." Brooks gestured in a panic, "Someone is hacking your account. Comm channels, personal records... They're targeting you, specifically."

"Damn it.", Shepard muttered. "Whoever they are, they're making a big mistake."

"Oh, man! There's the angry face.", Joker spoke sarcastically.

"From the top. What do you know?", Shepard asked Brooks.

The antsy Alliance Analyst began to speak, but the atmosphere shifted dramatically as a group of armored soldiers burst in, their weapons glinting menacingly under the restaurant's soft light. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," one of them announced with a chilling smirk. "Tonight's entertainment involves random acts of violence."

The mercenaries wasted no time, their weapons blazing and overturning tables as chaos erupted. The once serene ambiance shattered with the crack of gunfire, sending shards of the fish tanks flying and releasing a torrent of water and vibrant marine life onto the restaurant floor. Brooks ducked down, scrambling frantically to find cover amidst the pandemonium.

Shepard helped Joker scramble for cover behind the overturned table. Her heart pounded as she peeked over the edge, assessing the chaotic scene. The mercenaries were ruthless, their weapons blazing as they created havoc. The once serene ambiance was now shattered with gunfire. Shepard knew she had to act quickly to protect the innocent lives around her.

"Man, I love show business.", the Merc captain mused. "Spread out, boys! Find me Shepard!"

Everyone ran, screaming. Fleeing the area as the mercs continued in their destruction. The remaining patrons were taken as hostages. Shepard spotted Brooks at another table across from them, "Stay there! I'm coming!"

"Joker?", she said to him.

He crouched next to her. "Ow, my pancreas."

A merc grabbed Brooks, dragging her off. "Hey!", she yelled. Shepard watched, "Damn it!" She turned to Joker, "Find the crew! I'm going after her!"

Joker got up, limping away repeating the Commander's orders, "Find the crew. Got it!" A merc walked to the turned table, spotting Joker creeping off. He pulled his pistol, yelling "Hey you!", until Shepard reached up.

She grabbed the pistol and his arm, pulling him down with her, effectively running him through with her omni-blade. Joker heard the scuffle and turned around in shock, "You used me as bait?"

"Go!", she whispered loudly to him.

Joker limped off as fast as he could go, muttering to himself, "You used me as bait!"

Shepard sprang into action, her mind racing. She eyed her M-11 Suppressor, a military-grade weapon glimmering in the dim light. Whoever these mercenaries were, they were well-armed and clearly intent on causing mayhem. Cerberus? Impossible. The Illusive Man would never be so careless. The Reapers? They would have obliterated the entire station.

Someone else must be behind this. Her instincts screamed for action. Shepard knew she had to reach Brooks swiftly to uncover the truth.

Three mercenaries stood between Shepard and her goal. She needed to be precise, ensuring her shots only hit the assailants and not the terrified hostages. One of the mercenaries sent a disruption drone her way, but with two well-aimed shots, she dismantled it. Damn it, she thought, her ammo running low. No thermal clips on their bodies either.

Ducking behind the bar, she could hear the bartender's whimpering sobs. She vaulted over the counter and immediately rolled sideways, dodging a hail of bullets. Four more mercenaries were advancing. Shepard took out two on the left with her remaining ammo. Unarmed and without armor now, she knew she would have to rely on her wits and combat training to survive this encounter.

Shepard's eyes darted around, spotting a fallen frying pan. Seizing the opportunity, she grabbed it and hurled it at the nearest mercenary, hitting him squarely in the face. The mercenary stumbled back, clutching his nose in pain. But there was no time to celebrate. Another mercenary, smirking confidently, aimed his pistol directly at her. Shepard's heart raced. She knew she wasn't going down without a fight.

Brooks groaned from a head wound behind him. "Got you now, Shepard.", he said menacingly.

Shepard's eyes widened as she heard a sharp whistle behind the mercenary. The merc turned, only to be met with a powerful punch that sent him crashing over the bar counter. Shepard sidestepped just in time, her heart pounding.

She turned to see Satima standing over the second mercenary, who was now sprawled out on the floor, unconscious. Satima flashed a grin, brushing off her hands. "I wanted to hang out with you, but instead, I find people trying to kill you. Your pre-Reaper days are seriously wild," she quipped, her voice dripping with sarcastic humor.

Shepard shook her head, "Yeah... yeah." She walked to Brooks, using some medi-gel from a merc, and helped her back to her feet. A merc from the distant balcony landed, aiming a red laser to Shepard's chest. Brooks pushed her out of the way, taking the shot.

Shepard fell hard on the tank floor as she saw Brooks go down, shards of glass flying everywhere. Satima tried to reach her but was met with a barrage of gunfire. "Stay back!" Shepard shouted, her voice echoing through the chaos.

Suddenly, the glass beneath her gave way, and she plunged through the shattered remnants of the floor aquarium, crashing into the wards below with a splash of water and marine life. Satima crawled to the gaping hole, watching in horror. "Shepard!" she screamed, her voice filled with desperation and fear.

Shepard clung desperately to the advertisement coils of a digital sign, her body soaked and her muscles straining. "Shit, shit, shit!" she yelled, her voice echoing through the chaos.

Desperately trying to secure a foothold, Shepard felt her right shoe slip off, skidding down the angled building. As she managed to wedge her left foot into a crevice, the entire sign began to collapse beneath her weight.
Shepard plummeted further, hurtling against the glass and jagged architecture of the building, each collision sending jolts of pain through her body.

She tumbled desperately, clutching in vain for any handhold. Suddenly, she grabbed onto the sharp edge of an open triangular window, her fingers white-knuckled as she fought to maintain her grip.

The sharp edge of the open triangular window saved her from plummeting to her doom on the walkway far below. But just as she thought she had a hold, debris from the collapsing coil sign crashed against her, forcing her to lose her grip and sending her tumbling once more.

She hit the ground with a bone-jarring impact, her breath knocked out of her as shards of glass and lifeless fish scattered around her. The surrounding chaos, deafening and relentless, seemed to close in on her with every passing second.

Shepard painfully pushed herself up, her vision blurred with agony but her resolve unyielding. Her body screamed with every movement, protesting the brutality of the fall. Yet amidst the chaos, her determination flared fiercely.

The suppressor pistol landed with a clatter in front of her. Shepard seized it, her fingers wrapping around the grip with practiced precision. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to her feet, every step sending sharp jolts of pain through her legs. But she couldn't afford to slow down now. She had to move quickly, the urgency pulsing through her veins like an electric current. She needed to reach Joker immediately.
.............
Satima's heart raced as she watched Shepard fall to the ward below. She quickly scanned for her heart rate and found, though erratic, the Commander still lived. The merc on the balcony was still targeting her, and Satima's eyes narrowed with deadly intent.

She moved with deadly precision, pacing like a predator. The mercenary continued to fire at her, his bullets whizzing dangerously close. Satima ascended the stairs, each step deliberate, her menacing glare fixed on her target.

The mercenary's magazine clicked empty just as she reached the top. He fumbled in panic, and Satima's presence loomed over him like a shadow of doom.

"Who are you?" he shouted in terror.

"The last thing you'll ever see," she hissed.

Satima dodged the mercenary's desperate swing, moving like a shadow. In a flash, she was behind him, her arm snaking around his neck. He struggled frantically, clawing at her arm, but his movements abruptly ceased as her blade found its mark in his back. As he crumpled to the ground, a dark pool spreading beneath him, Satima's eyes remained cold and unyielding.

Satima swiftly scanned the blood-splattered scene, her eyes calculating and cold. She turned and strode toward the elevator, each step resonating with purpose. As the elevator doors slid shut, her piercing gaze remained fixed forward, distant and deadly.

Meanwhile, Shepard kicked off her remaining shoe, now fully walking with bare feet. She received a comm from Brooks.

"Commander, I found a secure terminal! Are you okay down there?"

Shepard grunted in discomfort but responded, "Yup... feeling good...", she lied. Further down the walkway, she found platforms to the lower balconies. "Brooks-you got hit."

"I know! I used medi-gel. A lot of it. Um, all of it, actually. And now everything is a little bit bouncy.", Brooks sounded really hyper.

Shepard jumped across the platforms, landing below with a new wave of pain surging up her side. "I think you used too much.", she said, wishing there was medi-gel lying around for her.

Below the second platform was another balcony with a salarian worker. "So, can I help you with-anything?", Brooks asked. Shepard spotted a girder leading out with a ladder attached. She started to slide down the sides of it to reach the bottom quickly. "Alert C-Sec. I'll look for a way out."

She reached the bottom, jumping across to another platform. Another ladder down. Shepard spotted a sky car dealership: Cision Motors. "Brooks, I see some sky cars across the gap. Maybe a landing pad..."

"I'm checking the area. Transportation, no. Food, no. Laundry... aha! It's a sky car lot. Cision Motors.", she informed.

Shepard looked back behind her from the ward view. "Get a shuttle over there. I'll find a way across." She glided down a ladder.

"Okay, right!", Brooks replied. A second later, as Shepard started to run inside a small construction building, Brooks came back on comms. "So, um, turns out C-Sec has the whole area locked down. It's going to be a tiny bit tricky to get you a shuttle."

"Keep at it, Brooks.", Shepard said.

"Oh, also, stay off your comm. Well, except for me. It's hacked. That's probably how they found you.", she spoke fast.

"Who are these guys?', Shepard asked, walking past large crates and piles of metal debris.

"I don't know, but they really don't seem to like you.", Brooks answered.

"Yeah, I'm sensing that. Listen, did you happen to see a... unique-looking young woman, in black armor? She would have ginger hair...attitude problems.", Shepard asked.

"Oh, that girl? She left rather quickly, and looked really upset. I didn't want to pursue. She seemed the sort that might hurt me.", Brooks nervously said.

"Yeah. Sorry. She's uh-well it's complicated. Satima can take care of herself.", Shepard informed, passing by a salarian smoking. He didn't seem to care what was going on. "Hey.", he said.

Shepard spotted a ladder to her right, leading up to the roofs of small businesses. With a quick, determined glance, she began climbing. Shepard leaped across the narrow gaps between the buildings, her movements fluid despite the pain radiating through her body. The final roof offered another ladder, and she ascended swiftly.

Below, mercenaries patrolled the alley, just beyond the security barrier set up by C-Sec. Curious and frightened citizens gathered outside, whispering anxiously among themselves. C-Sec officers stood vigilant, awaiting reinforcements. Shepard peered down at the mercenaries, who were now engaged in a heated argument, their voices rising above the din. Taking cover, they seemed unaware of the predator stalking them from above.

"The advance totally botched it!" one of them exclaimed, his voice tinged with frustration. "Shepard was unarmed when they ambushed her."

"Man, those guys are idiots," the second merc replied, his voice low and tense. The first one stopped in front of a food stall, his eyes darting nervously around. "Did you see what happened to Saul? That crazy bitch just stabbed him cold, no remorse. She just walked away like it was nothing."

The second mercenary smirked, "Didn't you get suspended for four days for something similar?" The first mercenary resumed his nervous patrol, his eyes scanning every shadow. "Yeah, but at least I had some remorse. She just... has that dead-eyed stare. Fucking Aliens."

Shepard quietly slid down the ladder, hiding behind the stall. "She's here!", one of them said. Damn. They opened fire at her, shooting the market to pieces.

With ammo in her pistol, Shepard leaned out of cover, firing on the first merc. As the mercenary fell, Shepard's mind briefly wandered to Satima. The ruthlessness, the cold detachment in her eyes—it was worrying, deeply so. But now was not the time to confront that troubling thought. The second merc threw several grenades at Shepard's cover point, snapping her focus back to the immediate threat at hand.

She barely dodged the explosion, shards of debris slicing through the air, leaving stinging lacerations on her skin. Her heart pounded wildly—wearing a dress had been a dangerous oversight.

"Get more guys down here!", a new merc coming down the market hall shouted. Shepard found a grenade and lobbed it to him. It exploded, decimating his shields, while she shot him twice in the chest. Then her comms cracked to life, "Shepard? Can you hear me? You okay?" It was Garrus.

She finished sniping a merc in the head. "I'm fine. Might need a little backup."

"Lucky for you, Archangel is your boyfriend. Joker filled me in. I'm on foot. Be there as fast as I can.", he said.

"Garrus.", Shepard asked.

"Yeah.", he said.

Shepard took a shot then hid back in cover, her heart racing. "Satima is running around on her own. She doesn't know the Citadel, and one of the mercs said she brutally killed one of their team. I'm worried."

"If I cross paths with Satima, I'll keep her by my side. But until then, I'm on my way to back you up," Garrus responded with determination.

"Thanks" Shepard finished the last merc. She cautiously peaked out of cover, running to the side wall. Further down the market alley were more mercs. With a fresh clip in her pistol, Shepard moved forward.

"Excuse me, who is this? You're on an unsecured channel, and you're putting Commander Shepard in danger!", Brooks spouted.

"I'm doing what? Who is this?", Garrus asked confused.

Shepard smiled to herself. "Hang on. Joker mentioned Staff Analyst Brooks, yes? That's her. Everybody play nice."

Mercs ahead screamed for backup, surprised how easily the other teams were taken down. Shepard fought them, thinning their ranks. "Javik reporting in Commander. The crew is on their way.", he commed.

Shepard dodged incoming fire behind her stall. "Good to hear. Things are a little dicey.", she replied.

"I am not surprised.", he mused.

Past more stalls of strange food, she came to a security-locked door. "Brooks! Found a way across. It's locked down.", she reported. Shepard jogged into a shop, looking for any buttons to push or hidden wall panels.

"Right, because of the, uh, lockdown. Can you get through?", Brooks asked.

"I'll try to override it.", Shepard replied.

In front of the door, Shepard tried using her omni-tool to open it. "C-Sec authorization required." She continued working the door, until her pass-code went through, "Confirming Spectre authorization. Spectre access accepted!"

The door opened. Entering through, Shepard could see the sky car lot not too far from her position. "Shepard's down there! Open fire!", a merc shouted.

She took cover behind a bench, surrounded by neon signs. Merc troops above fired at her. She needed to get across the bridge. "Damn it!", she yelled. "Commander?", Brooks called through comms.

"Shepard! What's happening? I heard that from here!", Garrus frantically asked.

"It's all under control!", Shepard yelled, shooting at a merc.

She ducked and rolled sideways, skirting from sign to bench on the bridge across. "Shepard, Brooks sent me the NavPoint for the sky car lot. Meet you there.", he commed.

"Good." Shepard rolled backwards, as a merc flipped to the side from her shots. They both stared each other down, when Shepard ran full force towards him.

Taken by surprise, he was easily knocked down, as Shepard finished him with a melee attack. Garrus commed her again, a scuffle on his end telling her he was also busy. "What do we know about the mercs?", he asked.

"They have guns and don't like me?", she replied sarcastically.

Garrus stifled a chuckle, "Not helping, Shepard."

"Commander, it would really be great if you stayed off the comms.", Brooks interrupted.

Shepard rushed across the bridge finally taking cover behind a column. "Hey, they called me!", she argued.

More mercs came through the shop stalls, and down the cat-walk above. Shepard dodged and opened fire on them.

The mercenaries were quick, flanking her with every move. "Fantastic. Garrus decides to take his sweet time at the sky car lot, while I’m up against at least ten mercs. Unarmed and no armor! Perfect!" she growled, taking down another merc with precision.

"Not for long.", a familiar voice said over her comms.

A fiery red sky car crashed onto the bridge, skidding precariously until it hit the edge. The hatch burst open, and Satima sprang out just as the vehicle teetered forward, plummeting into the wards below.

Shots rang out, whizzing past her. Satima moved with swift agility, dodging incoming fire and returning her own with deadly precision. Her pistol barked twice, and two mercs fell, each shot a show of her lethal accuracy.

"Satima?", Shepard said, stunned.

"I intercepted a merc's comm. Tracing it to here. I had a little resistance along the way.", she grinned.

Satima took cover across from Shepard, behind the bridge rail. Mercs rushed in. "Kill that bitch first! She's too dangerous!", one of them yelled.

Shepard shot him in the head. "Satima... been busy?", she asked her.

Satima used her energy drain to stop a drone, "They attacked me first! Self-defense."

Mercenaries emerged from their cover, hurling grenades and deploying drones in a relentless effort to flush out the two women. Despite the onslaught, they pressed on, their determination unwavering. Bullets flew, and mercs fell, each shot a testament to their lethal precision. Satima moved with the grace of a predator, her hand-to-hand combat skills leaving a trail of incapacitated foes in her wake. As Shepard watched her in action, she couldn't help but recall the days of her youth in the Alliance, where she herself had once fought with such ferocity.

She felt a surge of pride watching Satima's prowess, yet it was tinged with a bitter sting. The training that had honed Satima into such a lethal force had come from Reaper on HIVE—a place of torment and betrayal. Shepard’s heart ached, torn between admiration for Satima’s skills and sorrow for the suffering she endured to acquire them. The memories of her own rigorous training in the Alliance resurfaced, but they were worlds apart from the brutality Satima had faced. Every precise move Satima made was a reminder of the resilience she had to build to survive something no one should ever endure.

Sky cars zoomed overhead, their engines roaring amidst the chaos of the urban battlefield. Shepard and Satima darted from pillar to pillar, their movements a synchronized dance of survival as they advanced towards the sky car lot. An unseen sniper took pot shots at them, each bullet a reminder of the precariousness of their situation.

Satima vanished in a blur of motion. Shepard quickly disabled the sniper's camouflage, revealing Satima as she sprinted toward the mercenary from the side. The merc had barely a moment to react before Satima's speed overwhelmed him. She delivered a powerful roundhouse kick, sending the mercenary sprawling over the edge, disappearing into the depths below.

Shepard shot the last merc soldier who tried to sneak up on Satima. She came jogging to the girl's side. "I didn't teach you that. Did I?", she asked.

Satima nodded, "Killing rings, you called them." Horrible memories. Satima dodged the question further, "Aren't we supposed to get to Garrus at the sky car lot?", leading Shepard forward.

"Commander! There's a C-Sec shuttle inbound if you can get to the sky car lot!", Brooks commed.

"Understood.", Shepard replied.

"Okay! Brooks over! No, out. Brooks out! Over and out? Brooks! Oh, damn it!", the Analyst argued with herself.

"Something seriously wrong with that girl.", Satima pointed out.

"She's just nervous. Probably used to the desk more than fieldwork.", Shepard said.

Shepard and Satima walked through a shop door, entering a small alley to the car lot. Glass doors were up ahead, as two mercs fired at a sky car. "Someone must be in cover?", Satima assumed.

"Likely to be Garrus.", Shepard replied with a smile.

Garrus hopped over the sky car's hood with effortless grace, his sharp eyes locking onto the mercenaries. In a swift, fluid motion, he aimed his pistol and fired two precise shots. The mercs dropped instantly, his accuracy impeccable. He approached Shepard with a roguish grin, holstering his weapon with a flourish.

"So, Shepard, having a bad day? “he remarked, his tone light and confident, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

Shepard's mind wandered as she watched Garrus with a roguish grin, her heart racing despite the chaos around them. For a fleeting moment, she imagined them together, lost in a passionate embrace amidst the backdrop of the urban battlefield. Her thoughts spiraled into warm fantasies of his touch, their bodies entwined, creating an oasis of intimacy in the midst of turmoil. Yet, the reality of Satima's presence beside her firmly yanked her back to the present, the weight of their mission crushing her daydream.

"You could say that," she replied with a playful smirk, swaggering towards him with her pistol nonchalantly resting at her hip.

Satima quickly caught on to the romantic tension between Shepard and Garrus, rolling her eyes in exaggerated disgust. "Really? Right now?" she muttered under her breath, wishing they would stop before things got even more awkward. It was bad enough seeing the flirty exchanges in the middle of a battlefield. She couldn't help but feel a wave of embarrassment as she watched Shepard and Garrus, thinking they should really get a room.

Garrus continued," Landing pad is just over there, but it's behind a locked gate."

Shepard headed that way, "Let's look for a control panel."

Garrus caught a good look at Shepard's little black dress. "Nice outfit...", he said slowly.

She raised a brow, glancing his way.

He cleared his throat, "Control panel, right." He'll tuck this little image away for later. When they're alone.

Satima strode past Garrus with a look of disgust, her eyes narrowing in frustration. "Ugh, can you two not?" she muttered, clearly exasperated by the flirtatious exchange.

Garrus shook his head, irritation clear in his eyes, glancing at Satima with a mix of frustration and amusement.

"Word, is you fell through a fish tank.", Garrus asked. They cautiously walked through the lot, looking for any suspicious activity and mercs.

"We'll talk about it later.", Shepard replied, annoyed.

"A damn shame. Great food there.", he said sarcastically.

"We'll talk about it la-ter.", she argued.

Satima read some of the sky car info-pads on the hoods. She laughed, tossing an info-pad to the ground. "Snacol. Ridiculous. Haven is a much better name."

"What's Haven?", Shepard asked, interests peaked.

"My old ship. She went down with... anyway, she was a beauty.", Satima continued.

"We should get to a control panel soon.", Garrus interrupted.

The receptionist station was in the back with the door to the gate controls closed. Shepard and team hovered around the door. A solid glass panel separated the darkened room from them. "Hey, there's a volus in there.", Satima pointed out. "CAN YOU OPEN THE DOOR?", she yelled.

Shepard and Garrus exchanged glances. "He's frightened not deaf, Satima.", Shepard informed. The girl shrugged her shoulders. The volus kept the door locked, while Garrus walked to the glass paned window.
"Go away.", the volus warned. Shepard walked beside him, ready to shoot the window in, "Stand back.", she said.

Garrus pushed her pistol down, "Hold on."He knocked on the window, "Hi there. Could you open this up?"

The gates unlocked, with Garrus turning back to the volus,"Much appreciated."

"Please, go away.", the volus merchant repeated in asthmatic gasps.

Garrus gave Shepard another smug look.

"Well, I could've done that.", she muttered.

Satima smirked, "The Garrus in my time would've thrown himself through the glass, beaten that volus senseless, and then pressed the button." She looked at their bewildered faces and shrugged. "What?"

They proceeded to the landing pad. A C-Sec shuttle promptly appeared, hovering in place over the platform. The shuttle hatch opened to mercs, heavily armed, firing on them. Garrus and Shepard headed for cover behind a sign.

Satima cried out in pain, clutching her side where the shot had hit her.

"Satima?", Shepard shouted.

She took cover on the opposite side, across from them. Satima held her left leg tightly."I'm fine. Just a bad graze.", she assured. "Assholes!", Satima shouted.

Suddenly, a krogan in gleaming red armor came crashing through the window above them, landing with a thunderous impact on the shuttle. The force of his landing dented the mercs' ride, sending it spiraling out of control. Flames burst from the cockpit, illuminating the chaotic scene with a fiery glow.

The krogan sprang into action, launching himself off the shuttle and landing squarely in front of the mercenaries. With a roar, he charged at the first one, sending him flying into another hatch. He then headbutted the second merc, crushing his helmet with a sickening crunch, and delivered a powerful punch to the third, doubling him over in agony.

The remaining mercenary watched in sheer terror as the krogan's gaze locked onto him. Just as he began to scramble for cover, the hatch below him burst open, and with a guttural scream, he was thrown out, crashing into the hard ground of the wards below.

Shepard watched this krogan step out of the crashed shuttle, looking around. "Wrex? What are you doing here?", she said pleasantly surprised.

He moved a merc over, searching. "Ah, just butting heads with the Council over krogan expansion." Finding what he was looking for, Wrex tossed a very big gun to Shepard. Garrus walked behind, seeing the weapon.

Wrex glanced at Satima and scoffed, "Who's the brat?"

Satima straightened up, her eyes blazing with defiance. "Who's the old bastard?" she retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Shepard snapped at Satima, "Watch it."

An explosion rocked the sky car dealership, sending shards of glass and metal flying. Amidst the chaos, everyone ducked for cover—everyone except Shepard. With a confident stride and a big gun in hand, she walked casually to the entrance, her eyes scanning for threats.

Mercenaries began descending from the upper levels, their boots thudding against the concrete as they landed around her. Others poured in from the alleyway, weapons drawn and ready for a fight. Shepard's lips curled into a smirk as she tightened her grip on her gun, ready to face whatever came next.

"Shepard, we got a way out of here?", Wrex asked.

"Wrex. I'm a professional.", she boasted, firing on the mercs. Their cries alerting her to the fact she did take them by surprise.

"That's not a yes!", he yelled.

"It's not a no!", she shouted back.

"Anyone have medi-gel?", Satima asked, taking cover behind a sky car platform.

"No. Why, are you feeling weak?", Wrex teased.

Satima, fueled by adrenaline and fury, pushed herself to her feet. Ignoring the searing pain in her injury, she joined the fray with fierce determination. Each mercenary that crossed her path met a swift and ruthless end, as she dispatched them with lethal precision, even with her injured leg.

Shepard didn't like the challenge Wrex made to her daughter.
"She's injured!", she shouted.

"She'll live. Besides, if she can't handle the heat, she should skip out of the frying pan.", Wrex mused.

Satima laughed over the comms, drawing everyone's attention. Seething from the krogan's insult, she unleashed her fury on an unfortunate mercenary, pummeling him before finishing with a gunshot to his gut. "Handle the heat, my ass!" she shouted, blazing a trail through the battlefield, her movements a blur of lethal efficiency.

Wrex laughed, taking cover beside Shepard. "By the way, I heard you have a kid. Is that her?", he said pointing to Satima, while snapping the neck of a merc that tried to sneak up on him.

"Wha-What? Who told you this?", Shepard asked alarmed.

"I have contacts in the council now, who have been chattering away like pyjacks about the alliance's classified data. You're dragging her around the galaxy Shepard, against the reapers. It's bound to be noticed.", Wrex informed.

Shepard's voice carried a note of tension. "Wrex, alliance intelligence has its limits. Either you're tapping into my ship's comms, or Liara's been digging around. The only other source with that kind of intel is EDI."

Wrex smirked, effortlessly picking off a merc above. "Asari and secrets—like oil and water," he chuckled. His eyes darted to where Satima was laying waste to their foes. "Oh, and by the way, I heard Garrus is the father," Wrex roared with laughter, giving Shepard a playful nudge. "She looks like you but has his attitude. No offense, Garrus!" he added, his laughter echoing through the chaos.

"None taken, you fat bastard!" Garrus shouted, his sniper rifle picking off enemies with deadly precision.

Shepard used her new weapon, mowing down the ranks of mercenary soldiers around them. Her comms opened up, "Commander!"

"Joker? We lost our ride! Where are you?", she asked.

Garrus sniped three mercs, with Wrex ramming into them. Satima continued fighting, blood from her leg wound now splattering wherever she went, and whomever she fought. Joker commed Shepard back, "On my way. Picked up Brooks. Figured you have a few questions.", he said.
"Good call.", she replied.

Wrex grabbed two mercs, taking them by the neck and butting their heads together with a loud laugh. "Good to be back!", he roared.

Garrus dashed around a sky car, catching a merc off guard. With a swift move, he slammed the merc's head through the windshield, shards of glass flying. Not missing a beat, he turned and expertly took down another mercenary before the trooper could even react, his actions fluid and deadly precise.

"Commander, did C-Sec find you? Are you okay?", Brooks worried.

"Yes and no. Mercs in a C-Sec shuttle.", Shepard replied.

"What?", Brooks said surprised.

"Little busy, right now!", Shepard reminded. She blasted two out of the way while she ran to a sky car.

Satima had stopped coming up to fight. Holding her leg as the flesh stitched itself together, she quickly gripped over the wound to hide the regeneration. She looked up at Shepard with an alarmed stare, "Just a fast-acting medi-gel, nothing special."

Shepard knelt down, eyes narrowing with suspicion. "I've never seen medi-gel work like that before..."
Gunfire pinged around them, almost grazing Shepard.

The commander ran back out into the fray. Shooting more mercs. Where the hell is Joker? Garrus and Wrex busied themselves with blowing up some of the sky cars, laughing and arguing on who is the best fighter.
"Hey!", Shepard yelled to them.

They both quickly glanced her way, "Satima is behind that one to your right, closest to the gate. She's attending to her gunshot wound. Stop screwing around and give her cover!"

Garrus straightened up, putting down two more mercs. "If you hadn't blown up that car next to her, she would've never snapped at us.", he argued as Wrex laughed.

Comms cracked back on, "Approaching your position, Commander. Just following the gun fire.", Joker informed.

"Copy that.", Shepard replied. She signaled for everyone to retreat to the landing pad. "Sorry I'm late. Had to take the scenic route.", he continued.

"Scenic route? We nearly crashed four times! Where the hell did you learn to drive?", Brooks demanded.

"And Brooks says hi!", Joker mused.

Joker hovered over the landing pad, "Get to the shuttle!", he yelled.

Amidst the chaos, shots rang out as they dashed toward the shuttle. Wrex barreled in first, Garrus close on his heels. Shepard, supporting Satima, moved swiftly toward the hatch. With a final push, Shepard vaulted in, pulling Satima alongside. Her impressive skills had clearly made a lasting impression on Wrex.

The ride back to the Silver Strip was fast and quiet.

Back at the apartment, Satima ran up to Shepard's room. Garrus received a medi-gel app from Shepard who hovered like a worried den mother. He gave the girl the application, making sure her leg wound got the most of it. But when the application started, Garrus noticed the injury was no longer there. "How is she?", Shepard paced.

"She'll be fine.", Satima spat agitated.

"Seems to have healed quickly.", Garrus informed, eying Satima's rude response.

"Good. Let's leave her to rest.", Shepard continued, walking out with haste. Satima rolled her eyes.

Downstairs, Wrex paced impatiently. As Shepard finished walking down the steps, the krogan approached her. "Someone want to tell me what's going on here?", Wrex demanded.

"I didn't recognize those mercs. Heavily armed and using C-Sec shuttles?", Garrus said.

They all formed a circle around the coffee table in front of the living room. "I don't know. I've never seen them before.", Shepard informed.

Brooks paced energetically, "I can't believe you survived all that. They had guns! And grenades! And those drone things!"

Shepard brought out her omni-tool, "It's all right. I'm calling Commander Bailey; see what's going on with C-Sec."

Brooks stood edgy, "Okay, that sounds... Wait! Wouldn't that just make whoever you contact a target, too?"

Garrus glanced to Shepard, "She's right, Shepard. Until we figure this out, it's a big risk."

Shepard looked at them both then turned off her omni-tool, "Okay. For now, we run this ourselves."

"Right. Ourselves. On our own. Outside the law. Okay. Yeah.", Brooks said, lifting on her toes like a nervous child.

"Brooks, it's okay. I know this a lot to deal with.", Shepard said calmly.

Brooks, her adrenaline surging, couldn't contain her excitement as she yelled about the intense firefight. "Did you see that? Shepard took down all those mercs single-handedly!" Her eyes were wide with amazement, her voice filled with awe. "I can't believe it, it's like something out of a vid!" she exclaimed, pacing back and forth, her energy almost palpable.

Shepard nodded, acknowledging her skills. "Yeah, I took them down, but it's nothing more than marine training and years of experience." Brooks, still buzzing with adrenaline, continued to pace, her excitement uncontainable. "You know," she said, her voice rapid, "there's such a thing as too much medi-gel. It's making me feel all jittery, like I could run a marathon!"

This woman was giving Garrus a serious headache. Enough already with this hyper ranting! He raised his plated brow to Shepard who nodded to herself, smirking as Brooks continued talking, her energy seemingly endless. Garrus couldn't help but chuckle, the absurdity of it all cutting through the tension of their recent battle.

After she asked everyone if she seemed jumpy, which they exchanged annoyed glances, Shepard asked Brooks how she got mixed up in this issue.

Brooks eagerly launched into her story, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "I monitor data for Alliance Intel to prevent fraud and hacking of officer IDs," she explained, her voice animated. "Like, for example, an admiral's pass being used to sneak into a posh nightclub while the real admiral is out fighting in the Reaper War."

Shepard listened intently, her curiosity piqued. Brooks continued, her excitement growing, "I developed a tracking program for this purpose. I call it 'Mr. Biscuits.'"

Wrex, meanwhile, looked thoroughly perplexed. "Mr. Biscuits?" he rumbled, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Is it edible?"

Brooks laughed, shaking her head. "No, it's just a name! But it's incredibly effective. It can trace any misuse of credentials in real-time."

"Uh,Brooks.", Shepard reminded.

"Right!", she said.

Brooks continued animatedly, her enthusiasm infectious, as she detailed how her program detected a breach in her classified files. "Personal files, mission reports, everything!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide with urgency.

"Since when does hacking personal records involve heavy-weapon fire?", Wrex asked.

"Think of what criminals could do if they had Shepard's military access codes. Or Spectre codes, even!", Brooks exclaimed.

Wrex turned to Shepard, "Explains why they need you dead, Shepard. Nothing to stop them until the damage is done."

"Okay, lets figure out who they are and shut them down.", Shepard said, "Ideas?"

Garrus unfolded his arms, thought in mind. "Well, I was looking at that pistol you picked up..." Shepard brought her pistol out, examining it. "For such a tiny thing, it packs a punch. Never seen anything like it before.", Wrex pointed out.

Liara came through the door, walking down the small steps into the living area. "Let me see it. I might be able to help. Glyph..."

Glyph appeared from Liara's omni-tool. He hovered over the coffee table in front of Shepard. "I'll be collating relevant intel for review, Dr. T'Soni."

"Liara.", Shepard smiled.

"Shepard, I'm relieved to see you're in one piece. A shame about the sushi place, though. It was a favorite.", Liara chuckled.

Shepard sighed in annoyance, scratching her head. "I hear that a lot."

"All right, Liara's on point. What about the rest of the crew?", Wrex asked.

Satima came down the back stairs, stretching her arms behind her back, looking better. "Yeah, what about us?", she asked, standing with the rest of them around the coffee table.

Garrus and Shepard exchanged glances. Joker came in from the door also. "Yeah, what about those slackers?", he smirked. Shepard left the circle, walking towards him. "Joker. You've been busy."

"I found some folks who actually like being shot at.", he said while turning towards the door.

Her team from the Normandy walked in,EDI leading. "Permission to come aboard, Shepard."

The team settled down, each finding a comfortable spot around the apartment. Joker lounged on the couch, a mischievous grin on his face as he talked with Shepard about their latest bait problem.

Shepard moved gracefully around the room, her presence magnetic as she engaged with each crew member, listening intently to their thoughts and concerns.

Who of which, had a smart-ass remark or another about the sushi restaurant.

Garrus stood upstairs, looking out of the large windows into the ward, the city lights casting a soft glow on his contemplative expression. He leaned casually over the rail, lost in thought. Shepard approached him quietly, their eyes meeting in a moment of unspoken understanding. She wrapped her arm around his, their closeness visible.

"So, what was it, Shepard? Five minutes before someone started shooting at you?" he chuckled, his voice low and warm, the hint of a smile playing between his mandibles. She laughed softly.

He continued," On the other hand, we get this cool secret hideout to hang in... unless the bad guys look in the window."

"Can't help being so popular lately.", she answered.

Garrus leaned in closer to Shepard, his mandibles flaring slightly in a gesture of affection. Then, with a tenderness that belied his tough exterior, he pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. Shepard's eyes softened, a smile playing on her lips as she felt the warmth of his gesture.

Just then, Liara made her way up the steps, her hand nervously smoothing her head tendrils. She cleared her throat, trying to gather her courage. "I need to apologize," she began, her voice trembling slightly. "I inadvertently leaked dangerous information about Satima."

Shepard raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "How exactly did you come across information about Satima, Liara?" she asked, her tone both intrigued and slightly concerned.

Liara hesitated, her eyes flickering with a mix of embarrassment and determination. "I... overheard it with a little help from EDI," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I suppose as the shadow broker, you need all the information you can get. Just don't let it fall into enemy hands, Liara, the reapers don't know that Satima exists.", Shepard cautioned.

Liara nodded, "They'll have to pry it from my dead hands."

Shepard walked to Liara, touching her shoulder, before turning to Garrus. "Well, back to reality."

She retreated to her new quarters, her mind racing with questions about the mercenaries and if there was a possible connection to Satima. As she pondered the situation, her daughter entered, as she listened intently to an audio log by Anderson, trying to piece together the puzzle.

"Shepard?", Satima asked.

She turned around, facing the girl. "Yes, Satima."

Satima approached, her usual nervousness evident in her every step. "I remember getting hit at the sky car lot earlier," she began, her voice a mix of gratitude and unease. "And I know you and Garrus saved my life yet again. Just so you know, I don't usually make a habit of this," she added with a wry chuckle. "Back in my timeline, I was pretty good at dodging bullets."

She paused, her gaze softening as she continued, "But now, with everything that's happening, I guess there's a lot more on my mind." Her words hung in the air, filled with a sense of vulnerability and a hint of resolve.

Satima paced to the bed, taking a seat on the edge. She wanted so badly to lay down and just sleep. But duty came first. It always came first. Shepard walked to her side, her eyes filled with understanding and empathy.

"I get it," Shepard said gently. "I've been lost in my own thoughts too, even in the middle of the most dangerous situations. When everyone is counting on me to be at my best, and I'm not. It's part of being human—or mostly human, in my case. Garrus and the others have had their moments too."

Satima looked up, her eyes meeting Shepard's. There was a flicker of relief in her gaze as she realized she wasn't alone in her struggles. She took a deep breath, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders.

"There. Right there. You gave me that same knowing gaze before you..." Satima stopped short, her words trailing off as she seemed to struggle with her thoughts. She got up hastily, leaving the room, seemingly confused.

Shepard watched, unable to utter a word to stop her from going. She slowly left the room, descending the stairs to Liara, in the dining area.

"Shepard, I've found something. We can gather the team whenever you're ready.", she said. Glyph hung around Liara, as she stared away at her omni-tool.

Shepard approached Liara, as she turned to the Commander, "I've made some progress. Would you like to commence the meeting?"

"Do it.", Shepard ordered.

Everyone came around the table, with Satima staying back. She leaned on the kitchen island, behind Shepard and Liara. Keeping herself distant from everyone. Liara began with her information.

"We have a lead. I called in some favors to run a trace on the gun. It led me to a casino owner named Elijah Khan. He's been suspected of using his profits to smuggle weapons onto the Citadel.", Liara looked around, "Immediately after the attempt on Shepard's life, Khan made an interesting call."

The broker brought up a recording via audio log. A holo screen of the recording showed over the table for everyone to watch. Khan complained of his guns showing on the local news from the citadel.

The ominous voice assured Khan, he wouldn't be linked to them but Khan terminated their association anyway.

Khan also threatened the other, that if he came after him, he would go "prime time" with the information he had, and abruptly ended the call.
Shepard crossed her arms, "So that's our identity thief."

"Looks like he's got an ID disguiser. Those things are a pain in the ass to get around.", Garrus said, irritated.

"Did you get anything on the mercenaries who attacked us?", Shepard asked Liara.

She turned to Shepard next to her, "They're a private military corporation called CAT6. As most of you know, CAT6 is an Alliance nickname for dishonorable discharges. Many have criminal records, histories of steroid abuse, and other charming features. No doubt hired by the thief, not by Khan."

The room's tension was palpable. A small army of dysfunctional ex-military causing chaos all over the citadel was a scenario that left everyone on edge. Garrus exchanged a worried glance with Shepard, the shared understanding between them clear, too many innocents could get caught in the crossfire, manipulated by those who thrived on disorder.

Ashley couldn't believe it. How had they slipped past military surveillance? Most of them should still be under observation in hospital wards, grappling with mental trauma and addictions. The truly dangerous ones should already be behind bars.

Satima listened carefully, thought to herself that this didn't sound good. Whoever this "thief" was, wanted a good handful of unstable and dangerously trained people to go after Shepard.

Knowing full well how skilled Shepard is and resourceful. It sounded more like a test of resolve. Or maybe, this new villain was trying to corner Shepard.

It made Satima nervous. She couldn't let Shepard out of her sight. The commander looked around her crew, then started her questions again. "That phone call was pretty damning stuff. How'd you get it?"

Liara faced Shepard, "It involved the weapons biometric data, salarian intelligence, and a hanar prostitute with camera implants."

The whole room went awkward, with Wrex clearing his throat and Tali feeling very uncomfortable. Images.

"Seriously?", Shepard asked, a little stunned.

Liara smirked, "No, but the truth is boring."

Satima chuckled behind them.

Shepard nodded her head, "Anyways...Whoever that voice was, Khan's nervous enough to cut them loose. We can squeeze Khan until a contact drops out."

"Easier said than done. He has a panic room inside the casino. A good place to hole up. EDI can give us programs to hack the door, but the cameras and guard's complicate things.", Liara said.

Brooks opened her mouth to ccounter-argue but the minutes of her silent stare caused an uneasiness. Satima wondered about that. "Yeah. Khan could disappear or worse. If his guards ever open fire, normal people could get hit. Like I did.", Brooks complained.

"She's right. We can't risk spooking him. We can go in quiet. Small team. No gunplay.", Shepard replied.

Satima nodded in agreement with Tali and James. Glyph appeared over the table,"Dr. T'Soni, this evening the casino will be hosting a charity event to assist war refugees."

Shepard and Liara exchanged glances. "Purchase some tickets Glyph, then call up a layout of the building.

Joker hit a fist into his hand, "Score. So how close can you get? You don't usually put a back door in a panic room.", he asked.

Everyone looked at the schematics to the casino. EDI noted an airshaft that bypassed the security gate, ending up in storage. From that point, the panic room's door-camera could be disabled.

Ashley interjected, "Convenient, isn't it? But let's not forget the alarms will be everywhere." Liara responded with a confident smirk, "I have a countermeasure in mind. We'll know more once we're inside."

Javik's eyes narrowed, scanning the group. "Who can fit into the shaft?" he asked, the urgency in his voice unmistakable.

Wrex shook his head with a wry grin, "Sorry, I'm a bit too big for that." Liara chuckled, "More of you to love, Wrex." Tali stepped forward, "I could try, but my suit's built-in tech would likely be detected by the security sensors." The group was silent for a moment, the weight of the mission pressing down on them.

Brooks, noticing the growing tension, stepped forward with determination. "EDI's presence in the casino would raise too many red flags," she stated. "We'll need someone adept at handling complex tech, someone who can navigate through without electronics or metal—just undetectable polymers."

Shepard glanced to Satima, who still leaned against the stove-topped island, poised to take on the mission. Satima nodded to Shepard, ready for the task ahead.

Sensing the weight of the decision, Brooks quickly intervened, her voice animated and lively. "Hey Shepard, do you remember that course at Op-Int? The one where we had to disable a bomb using only a pair of tweezers? That was some intense training, right?" Her enthusiasm was infectious, and the vivid memory she invoked caused Shepard to pause, reminiscing about the high-stakes scenario.

Brooks continued, her words cascading rapidly, "I handled the situation with finesse, no electronics, no metal—just pure skill and precision.”

Shepard, caught up in the vivid recollection of Brooks’ adept handling of the Op-Int challenge, nodded in agreement. The conversation and Brooks’ sudden burst of enthusiasm were enough to make Shepard agree to have Brooks go inside the shaft.

Brooks watched everyone's reaction. She acted shocked and hesitant. "What? No. What?", she stammered.

"You said it yourself. We've all too much tech.", Shepard replied.

"But... I managed to get shot just coming to talk to you! Now I'm supposed to hack my way into a safe room?", Brooks asked, upset.

Shepard understood the young officer's concerns. And her lack of obvious field experience. "We'll be backing you up. The second you hit something you can't handle, we'll cover you."

Liara brought her omni-tool up, selecting something in view. "If that's settled, it looks like there's one last hurdle to get us inside."

"Which is?", Shepard asked.

Liara raised a brow, almost smiling. "Black tie required."

Satima looked baffled as the rest of the crew either groaned in annoyance or burst into laughter. Ashley exchanged a knowing smirk with Garrus, while Tali, unintentionally backing into Javik, added to the confusion. James, always one to show off, flexed his muscles in response. Shepard's eyes swept the dining room, taking in the varied reactions.

"Oh, so...I need a date then?", Shepard smiled.

"I'm going as a single person. That is, I mean...I'm going alone.", Brooks spoke aloud.

Ashley rolled her eyes dramatically, then quickly shared an exasperated look with James. They both moved away from the table in perfect synchrony. Garrus, with a hint of a smirk, approached Shepard and said, "I seriously hope you're not planning on going without me." The room was alive with a blend of tension and amusement, the crew's camaraderie shining through their reactions.

Shepard laughed, "Why? Afraid I'll ask Wrex?"

Wrex grinned, chuckling, "Well, Shepard. I can understand how hard it is, to pass on a chance with a "real" man."

Garrus growled low. Wrex stepped up to him, slapping him on the back. "Relax, pyjack. She's like a sister to me."

"Ok, so that makes me, going into a scary shaft. Shepard and Garrus... then who else? Anybody else going?", Brooks said energetically.

Shepard turned to Satima, whose eyes were glued to the casino's schematics. Sensing Shepard's gaze, Satima looked up with a mix of confusion and disbelief. "What? Me? Oh, absolutely not! Have you all forgotten? I'm not a people person. I despise mingling," Satima retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she glared around the room.

Javik laughed to himself.

"But, I thought we bonded over the Normandy's navigation controls?", Joker said sarcastically.

Satima pointed with her finger in annoyance, "Don't push it fly-boy."

Joker chuckled. Shepard followed Satima out. "Hey, if you still want to come. I've got a few more "black tie" clothes upstairs."

"What the hell is a black tie?", Satima argued.

Shepard sighed, "It's a formal party. You wear really nice clothes."

Garrus strode upstairs, moving with purpose past the crew. Wrex and Javik, in search of a distraction, gravitated towards the bar, eagerly sampling the assortment of exotic bottles. Joker, EDI, and Tali, on the other hand, made their way to the game room, ready to immerse themselves in a bit of friendly competition. Meanwhile, Shepard's eyes landed on James and Ashley, who were engaged in an animated conversation on the couch, their laughter and gestures hinting at a shared joke or story.

"Look, Satima... it's not a big deal. You can wait here with everyone else. I'll update the team shortly on what we find.", Shepard started to walk upstairs with Garrus.

Satima scanned the room, weighing her options. She could join the crew, engage in light-hearted banter about missions and duties, but something about James and Ashley's animated conversation caught her eye. Their chemistry was evident, and she didn't want to intrude on that growing connection.

Joker and EDI would undoubtedly tease her, while Brooks always gave off unsettling vibes. Satima didn't trust her and was wary of Shepard going alone. Reluctantly, she made the uncomfortable decision to join in, hoping her presence might somehow minimize the impending chaos.

"This is going to be a disaster.", she thought.

Chapter Text

The formal party had just arrived at the Silver Coast Casino. The atmosphere was electric as throngs of citizens eagerly gathered outside, craning their necks for a glimpse of the celebrities and influential figures gracing the evening's event. The glitz and glamour of the occasion promised a night filled with unforgettable moments.

Garrus, Shepard, and Brooks stepped out of the cab, their eyes immediately drawn to the dazzling entrance of the Silver Coast Casino. The grey-tiled floor reflected the shimmering holo-graphic patterns of interconnected squares, creating an enchanting dance of light against the soft blue walls.

Brooks sauntered down the path, her electric blue dress catching the light and shimmering with every step. She waved gracefully to the onlookers, her confidence radiating even to those she didn't recognize. Meanwhile, Shepard walked beside Garrus, her arm linked with his, exuding a relaxed yet poised demeanor. She had donned a stunning deep ruby dress with a high collar that accentuated her strong shoulders, commanding attention with each step she took. The air buzzed with anticipation as they approached the dazzling entrance of the casino, ready to immerse themselves in the night's glamorous festivities.

Garrus couldn't keep his eyes or hands off her. He wore a sleek black formal suit that perfectly hugged his turian physique, with white stripes curving seductively around his carapace.

"Looking good, Shepard," he said with a teasing smile, waving to the crowd. His chest swelled with pride as he walked beside her, the epitome of charm and confidence.

Shepard smiled playfully, "I did the best I could without a carapace or a crest. But I think I clean up rather nicely, don't you?"

"Your best has my mandible on the floor. Damn!", Garrus replied with a flirtatious grin.

Shepard blushed with a slight giggle, her heart fluttered in her chest from Garrus's flattering charm.

As they proceeded to the stairs, Brooks whispered to Shepard. "You know, I shaved my legs for this, and I even put concealer over where I got shot."

Shepard sighed to herself, "Just smile and wave, Brooks."

Before they reached the stairwell, Shepard spotted a ginger-haired girl holding a tray with different alcoholic beverages, her manner discreet and her eyes keenly observing the surroundings. Shepard's eyes narrowed as she took in the girl's posture and movements.

"Satima," Shepard muttered under her breath, recognizing her despite the incognito guise. Satima, in her role as a server, blended seamlessly into the glitz and glamour, unassuming yet ever vigilant. She moved with a grace that belied her readiness, her presence a silent assurance in the midst of the evening's festivities.

Inside, Satima quickly walked up the stairs, disappearing in the crowd with her waitress disguise. She didn't trust Brooks, and neither should Shepard. Gut feeling.

"I'll get to the ventilation shaft. Wish me luck!", Brooks said, quickly running up the steps.

Shepard remained a little longer at the bottom of the stairwell with Garrus. She contacted Liara.

"Liara, you have any input?", Shepard asked over comms.

She and Garrus walked together to the top level of the casino. "I'm here, Shepard. EDI and I will keep in contact in case we're needed. Khan has a lot of surveillance set up. I'd mingle with the guests if you want to look natural.", Liara stated.

"Ok, Garrus. Time to meet the riff-raff.", Shepard said sarcastically.

"Shepard, was it me or did I just see Satima serving drinks to some asari?", Garrus asked, surprised.

Shepard shook her head, "Garrus, somewhere out in this crowd, our little girl is providing a very good distraction for us. And when this is all over, I'm going to owe her a drink." She glanced around, noticing the curious stares directed at Satima's unique hybrid appearance, a blend of human and turian features that captivated and intrigued onlookers.

"Right," Garrus replied curtly, his eyes briefly flicking to where Satima stood before quickly returning to Shepard. It was clear he wasn't ready to fully embrace the idea, a hint of hesitation lingering in his voice. The topic was still too raw, too complicated for him to process in the midst of their mission.

Shepard didn't know how Garrus felt about Satima yet. Blurting out she's their "little girl", was not well thought out. But he didn't deny or hesitate.
Whatever he's thinking, she rather not stir up an argument. They need to focus on the mission at hand. Satima is fine and maybe they'll laugh about this someday. Maybe.

On the top level, a holo sign in orange read "Silver Coast" behind them. The main floor had plenty of quasar machines, with a few gamblers standing around the games. Shepard watched the crowd, noticing certain areas had different groups of citizens.

Walls of cascading water mimicked fountains, adding a tranquil yet sophisticated ambiance to the scene. Holographic silver trees shimmered under the lights, their beauty almost ethereal. Large, white hanging spheres floated gracefully above, creating an artistic focal point in the lobby. The main floor was divided by elegant circular booths, some of which were invitingly empty. Shepard knew she needed to mingle, to blend into this lavish gathering and make the most of Satima's well-orchestrated distraction.

A lively melody filled the air, weaving through the sounds of animated conversations and laughter. Shepard approached her first stranger to strike up a conversation. She soon found herself face to face with Elspeth Murrain, a dynamic candidate running for Zakera Ward City Council.

Elspeth's keen interest in the well-being of the Citadel's inhabitants was evident as she questioned Shepard about her experiences with politicians. Shepard, with a wry smile, recounted a few less-than-stellar encounters she had had in the past.

Elspeth, undeterred, passionately explained her vision for a safer Citadel, emphasizing her commitment to enhancing security measures for refugees. She hoped to garner the support of influential figures like Elijah Khan to turn her vision into reality. Intrigued by Elspeth's determination and charisma, Shepard couldn't help but be drawn into the candidate's ambitious plans for the future.

At that moment, Brooks commed with her location.

"Commander, I'm upstairs by the grate leading to the shaft. But there's a problem. Can you meet me?", Brooks asked.

Shepard politely excused herself, finding the staircase to the upper level with Garrus in tow. Upstairs, pass a dance floor that was directly across a bar, Brooks stood in front of a grate. Her omni-tool glowing from a scan. Shepard approached her as Brooks looked up.

"Okay, right. Just like we thought. There's an alarm on the grate.", she glanced to it.

"We'll have to bypass it.", Shepard pointed out.

Brooks handed her a pair of contact lenses,"Dr T'Soni gave me this to pass to you. It's a resonance emitter lens. It should let you see security grids and wiring."

Shepard took the lenses, promptly putting them over her eyes. A yellow glow covered her irises as they activated. "Good. I'll follow the wiring to a junction box, splice it, and disable the alarm."

"Yeah, fingers crossed!", Brooks hoped.

Immediately, Shepard could see a blue-wired crossing, looping inside the walls of the casino. "The lens is working.", she informed.

"Good. Follow it.", Liara replied. Shepard turned around from the grate, following the wiring as Liara said. The loud music of the dance floor blared in her left ear, but she continued to ignore it. Liara's voice came back on comms,"In case it needs to be said, don't try to bypass a camera while you're being watched."

"Well, obviously.", Shepard thought.

After a minute of getting through the crowd of people, Shepard spotted the wall junction. "I see a junction in the wall, but there's a camera watching it.", she whispered in her comms.

"Shepard. I'm sending a hack to your omni-tool. It will fool the camera, but it'll self-delete after a few seconds.", Liara informed.

"Got it.", Shepard stood in front of the security camera, ready to bypass it.

Quickly programming the hack to disrupt the camera. When it was done, she had less than ten seconds to put the splice through. "It's in."

"Good. I've got the grate open, and...in we go!", Brooks said hesitantly. "Act casual. This could take a while."

So, it was time to mingle again. Shepard moved through the crowd, her eyes scanning for potential allies and information. She spoke with politicians, wealthy charity owners, and the occasional businessman. Each one had their own story of loss and struggle due to the Reapers, or grievances about the current state of the Citadel. The evening buzzed with conversations about the refugee crisis and the pressing need for better security. Shepard listened intently, gathering insights and making mental notes, all while maintaining her poise and charm in this high-stakes social dance.

Satima's mind buzzed with possibilities as she observed the scene from the bar. Did Shepard realize the comms had been hacked, or that the cameras could have been easily bypassed? This wasn't her mission, though—it was theirs. Her role was to keep Shepard alive and to thwart the Reapers' plans. With a cool demeanor, she served tequila shots to two asari, her senses sharp and alert.

The hybrid continued her vigilant observation until a human male staggered up to her, his eyes bleary and unfocused. He slumped onto the barstool across from her, his breath reeking of cheap whiskey. "Hey! I’ve never seen your kind here before. How about you sit your sweet ass next to me, and we can get to know each other?"

Satima slowly turned, a sly smile playing on her lips, and with a swift, precise move, slammed his head onto the counter. The man collapsed, unconscious, as the bar's noise and clamor masked the incident. The two asari raised their glasses to her in silent acknowledgment, their eyes sparkling with amusement and respect.

After a quick look around the dance floor, Shepard sauntered over to the bar. Her eyes scanned the crowd, but she didn’t spot Satima, who had been chatting with an asari about the local cuisine. Instead, she noticed security lifting out an unconscious man. Clearly, someone had had a little too much fun.

The bartender greeted Shepard with a warm smile and mentioned the complimentary drinks. With a playful glint in her eye, Shepard responded, Nothing too crazy. I want to be able to walk a straight line."

"Thessia Temple, coming up.", the bar tender said.

"Are asari drinks usually mild?", Shepard asked, curious.

The bartender continued, saying that Mr. Khan had them put out gelatin shots. Even though it's also asari, they kick like a shotgun.

Shepard shrugged and grabbed a brightly colored gelatin shot from the bar. As the potent mix hit her taste buds, she winced, feeling the burn of the alcohol before the fruity sweetness followed. With a playful smirk, she turned to Garrus, "Want to see if they have a dextro option?”

He already had a glass of whiskey in his hand. "No thanks. I'm good with this.", he smiled with his mandibles widening out.

Satima's ears perked up at the familiar voices. She swiveled around on her bar stool, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Well, well, look who finally made it to the party," she teased, her tone playful yet edged with curiosity. "Anything thrilling happen while I was serving drinks, or should I be worried you two are having all the fun without me?"

Shepard nearly spat out her gelatin shot, her eyes widening in surprise. “No!”

Satima's round face lit up in amusement as she chuckled out loud, looking pleasant and happy.

"You are quite sneaky, Satima.", Shepard commented, agitated.

"I have to be. Well, you know where I am, that is-if you need me.", she ordered another round of shots for a group.

Shepard glanced to the large windows in front of them, thinking of starting a conversation when her comms came back on. It was Brooks.

"Commander!", she whispered loudly.

"What?", Shepard returned in a whisper.

She had already left the bar, back downstairs to the main lobby. Brooks continued, "There's a guard right below me.", she whispered back.

"Don't panic. I'll get his attention.", Shepard spoke in a low tone.

Shepard leaned in closer to the guard, her voice low and urgent. "I just saw someone using red sand in the ladies' room," she whispered, eyes darting around to ensure no one was eavesdropping.

The guard's posture stiffened, his visor flickering as he quickly processed the information. "What kind of chems are we talking about?" he asked, his voice now tinged with concern.

"Red sand," Shepard replied, her tone serious. The guard's face hardened as he swiftly called for backup, describing the unknown sand-tripper. Within moments, reinforcements were on their way, and the guard moved swiftly towards the restroom.

"You're clear Brooks.", Shepard informed.

"Thanks, Commander. I'll see if I can get into the panic room.", Brooks acknowledged.

"And I'll get back to blending in. Slow and steady. We'll get to Khan.", Shepard said with sureness.

Around the other side of the gambling machines, Shepard spotted a familiar asari sitting at a booth to the wall. She looked like Sha'ira. The asari glanced to Shepard, smiling. "Commander Shepard.", she said.

"Sha'ira. It's been a long time.", Shepard replied.

Sha'ira chuckled lightly, setting her drink down on the table. "My idea of a long time is different than yours, Commander."

Shepard shrugged, "What can I say? I put a lot of living into the last few years."

"Indeed.", Sha'ira agreed.

"Do you have any advice for me this time?", Shepard asked.

"Win.", Sha'ira said.

Shepard nodded. That or die trying. She said her goodbye to Sha'ira, who seemed more intrigued by a new drink set in front of her. Winning. If that were so easy. "Umm...", it was Brooks again.

"Talk to me, Brooks.", Shepard spoke.

"I've got a pressure pad and an obstruction detector ahead. I can't disable them from here.", Brooks worried.

"Okay. EDI, I need a tech solution. Brooks, stay put, we'll find some junctions and take down the sensors.", Shepard ordered.

Brooks agreed to wait as Liara informed Shepard to follow the red wiring.

Satima watched from the crowded tables at the holographic varren races, the vibrant colors reflecting in her eyes. She sipped an exotic fruity cocktail ordered for an asari group, delighting in the unexpected flavors while ignoring their grumbles. Her presence was magnetic, drawing the gaze of several men and a few asari who couldn't help but stare and gawk.

How could these people sit and enjoy their drinks, laugh at hollow jokes, while the Reapers were out there destroying everything? Their desperate smiles and forced laughter churned her stomach, a stark reminder of the obliviousness that pervaded even in the face of catastrophe.

Shepard and Garrus discretely disrupt cameras, misleading security guards as they get closer to the VIP room. They stand by when Brooks contacts her via comms."I'm at the storage room grate. Time to hit the lock."

"Be careful, Brooks.", Shepard says with concern.

Brooks informs Shepard she stepped into an infrared laser hooked to a silent alarm. Garrus overheard, shaking his head at such a rookie mistake. EDI alerted Shepard that she could call the responding guard, but she needed Shepard to stall him before he reached Brooks.

She walked hurriedly to the one guard making a b-line to the back room. Past crowds and around a quasar vendor, she nearly ran into him. "Hey!", she shouted towards him.

"Just calm down. I'm trying to do three different things here.", he said annoyed.

Shepard crossed her arms, tapping her foot impatiently as he received a call. EDI hacked his omni-tool's comms system.

In the guise of a male guard, she successfully misguided him away from the storage area. The guard finished his message, quickly asking Shepard what she wanted. She replied with thinking he was a friend wearing the same suit. The guard walked away, disgruntled.

Brooks thanked the Commander for the diversion. She hastily made her way to the panic room. Shepard mingled her way to the varren race tables, where Satima had been watching.

After a few chats with the most conceited and ignorant people this side of the citadel, Brooks commed Shepard again.

"Okay, so now I think you just need to get to me. I'm on the other side of the security gate."

"Right. Have you bypassed the camera back there?", Shepard asked.

Garrus played casual, handing a small drink to her. They stood together next to a waterfall.

"Well, I got my side. Yours is still on, though. We need to finish this before someone comes by.", Brooks said.

Shepard set her drink down, "Hang tight. I'll get to you."

Just as she was about to enter the security gate entrance, another comm call came through. "Shepard"

"Satima? Where the hell are you?", Shepard asked annoyed, looking around the area.

"Something doesn't add up here. I don't trust Brooks.", Satima sat behind a crowd of asari.

Shepard walked to the entrance. "Look, Satima..."

"It's just a feeling, alright. Be careful.", Satima ended the call.

Shepard spotted the junction on the wall she needed to hack on her right. This room is filled with security guards, so she must tactfully distract the ones closest to her. Garrus distracted the wandering guard in front of the junction with small talk.

Shepard quickly disrupted the camera, needing to slip out of the sight of the guard in front of the entrance to the panic room. A group of people talking in his sight could provide cover if she got caught. Garrus's conversation was getting short.

As Shepard tried hacking the camera watching the panic room door, she nearly got caught. Out of nowhere, Satima appeared, her presence like a sudden breeze. With a mischievous grin, she took the guard unsuspectingly by the arm and pulled him away, her playful demeanor masking the urgency of their mission.

Shepard shook her head, her fingers dancing over the interface as she continued the hack with renewed determination. The door clicked open, and Shepard darted inside, her heart pounding in her chest. Satima had skillfully diverted the guard's attention, leaving him bewildered as she vanished. She and Garrus exchanged a knowing glance, their silent communication speaking volumes. They moved with feline grace, sneaking around the guard and slipping into the shadows, ever closer to their objective.

Brooks stood before the door, her expression a mix of surprise and curiosity as Satima sauntered in. They approached the desk with cautious steps, the air thick with tension. Khan, seated in his chair, faced the flickering flames of the fireplace, his silhouette cast in shadows. The dark room exuded an ominous atmosphere, making the hair on the back of their necks stand up. Something wasn't right, and they could feel it in their bones.

"Khan, you and I are going to have a talk.", Shepard demanded, arms crossed.

Khan gave no answer or sign of movement. Garrus tilted his head in curiosity at the man. He walked to the chair and turned it for everyone to see the dead arms dealer.

"What the hell?", Brooks said astonished.

"Told you.", Satima warned with a glare towards Shepard.

Garrus shook his head dismissively, "And here I had this bad-cop routine all planned."

Brooks quickly typed away at a terminal on the desk. "Commander! There's a deletion order on the terminal.", she informed frantically.

Shepard shoved forward, as Brooks let her on the terminal. "Damn it!", Shepard swore aloud. She tried typing in any hack that would stop it. Someone extremely skilled at tech did this.

"Everything's been wiped. I don't know if it was him, or the killer, or-When I tripped that alarm, did I screw this up?", Brooks asked upset.

Satima began pacing around Brooks with a predatory grace, her eyes narrowing into slits. "Let's see," she mused with a hint of sarcasm dripping from her voice, "Did we check for any alarms, hidden wires, or perhaps some sneaky infrared lasers?" Her words oozed with a biting wit that made Brooks shift uncomfortably.

Brooks' eyes flashed with confusion as Satima's words hung in the air, dripping with accusation. "Your execution on this mission has been a complete disaster!" Satima's voice was sharp, every word cutting through the tension. "Are you just clumsy, or is there something you're not telling us?"

With a flick of her wrist, Satima revealed a small blade concealed beneath her omni-gauntlet. She stepped closer, her gaze hard and unyielding, daring Brooks to make a move. The room, already thick with ominous energy, seemed to tighten around them, each second stretching into an eternity. Brooks shifted uncomfortably, the weight of Satima's suspicion pressing down on her.

Brooks' mouth opened, and she began to stammer. "I-I didn't ask to be here! I'm helping the Commander because it's my duty. Excuse me for being new at this. I didn't realize you were such an expert!" She took a shaky breath, her eyes darting nervously around the room, feeling the weight of everyone's gaze on her.

Satima's eyes narrowed, her voice a low growl. "I am," she retorted, "Shepard should've chosen me!"

"Enough!" Shepard's voice cut through the tension like a knife, commanding attention as she scanned the computer. “Satima, put that blade away! Brooks is on our side. She took a bullet for me, remember?"

Garrus stepped forward, his presence commanding the room. "We don't have time for this petty squabbling," he declared, his voice firm. "Satima, stop letting paranoia cloud your judgment. Brooks, trust that Shepard will uncover the truth. We need to stay united and focused." His gaze bore into both of them, leaving no room for dissent.

Brooks looked away, her arms crossed defiantly, and stamped her foot like a frustrated child. Satima's lips curled into a satisfied smirk as she sauntered toward the door, her eyes darting around cautiously for any sign of guards.

"Ok. Now, if I can get back to fixing this...", Shepard gestured at the terminal. Not forgetting the very good point Satima brought up.

Brooks slowly walked back to the terminal with Shepard, "What are you looking for?" Her tone less timid, more curious.

"Mistakes.", Shepard informed.

After a few more typed commands, a ping echoed from the terminal. "Thought so. Whoever it was had to do this fast. They wiped the terminal, but not the comm.", Shepard said with satisfaction.

Brooks seemed nervous, quickly letting out a reason to take the terminal back. "Oh. So, we can take the comm back to the safe house to scan it, or..."

Shepard pressed the comm call back to the last recipient. A static screen came on behind them over the fireplace. "Elijah. Come crawling back?" It was the same dark voiced villain that Elijah threatened to expose.

"Guess again.", Shepard said smugly.

Brooks started a trace with her omni-tool.

"You. I see you've recovered from flopping on the floor like a fish.", the mysterious figure mused.

Satima leaned back on the wall. "Lame.", she retorted.

Shepard continued, "You'll need to do better than that. The last guy that trash-talked me was a few kilometers taller than you."

"Brave. I thought as much, but it won't matter. You have nothing. All you can do is wait for the hammer to fall.", the figure warned.

Shepard became angry, "Why do this? What did I do to you?"

"I'm going to take everything you have and everything you are.", the figure said ominously.

The static screen shut down. "Damn it! Sorry, Commander. There wasn't enough time to trace the call.", Brooks said apologetically.

Garrus trailed behind Shepard, his sharp eyes scanning the room for any clues that might have been hastily erased. Shepard moved with purpose to the desk, her gaze briefly falling on the lifeless body of Elijah Khan. "We're not done here," she asserted, her voice unwavering. "Pull out the data drives," she commanded, determination evident in her tone.

Satima immediately began pulling the data drives out, while Brooks argued the possibility of finding something. "The ones that got wiped? You think we can find something?"

"With EDI, anything's possible. The sooner we get them to her, the sooner we can track down this threat.", Shepard said assuredly.

Brooks nodded, her expression a mix of understanding and lingering suspicion. She watched as Satima carefully handled the data drives, following Shepard out the door with a cautious stride. Garrus brought up the rear, his presence as reassuring as ever. Brooks couldn't help but narrow her eyes, shooting a venomous glare at Satima's retreating figure. "Meddlesome alien," she thought, the words echoing in her mind like a bitter refrain.

Back at the apartment, Garrus couldn't resist a comment, his mandibles twitching with a hint of humor. "What a night, huh? A real blast... unless you were the host. Things didn't exactly end on a high note for him."

"It wasn't a total loss. Brooks, work with EDI to see if there's anything useful on those drives.", Shepard ordered.

"Here's hoping! I'll let you know what we find, Commander.", Brooks eagerly took the drives from Satima, setting to work on them with EDI in the dining room.

Satima's eyes narrowed as she watched Brooks, her suspicions festering. She doubted Brooks's motives, her skepticism clear in her stern gaze. Shepard, sensing the tension, broke the silence. "Satima, a word upstairs. Follow me," she instructed, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Garrus stepped aside, vanishing into one of the many shadowed rooms, his thoughts his own. Meanwhile, Satima followed closely behind Shepard as they ascended the grand staircase. They entered a spacious bedroom, and Shepard closed the door with a definitive click. She began to change into more comfortable attire, her movements deliberate, as if shedding the remnants of the night's chaos.

She noticed Satima's discomfort and raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I forgot you had issues with people seeing you. Tonight, must've been quite the exception," she remarked, her tone laced with a hint of teasing.

Shepard gestured toward the girl's hastily chosen outfit. Satima tugged at the skirt, her nerves evident. "Well, it was the best I could find in a hurry. And... I suppose I can manage to get out of this dreadful suit in front of you," she said, a hint of defiance in her voice.

Shepard's movements were swift and practiced, a testament to her years in the military, where changing in front of comrades was second nature. She glanced over at Satima, whose rare hybrid form stood out, an anomaly even in this setting. Shepard couldn't help but appreciate the girl's resilience.

Satima, feeling the weight of the night lift ever so slightly, put her usual armor back on, the familiar weight and fit bringing her a sense of security. The transformation was palpable – from the awkwardness of the hastily donned disguise to the confidence of being back in her own skin.

Downstairs, Garrus took a moment to send a message to his father. They were safe at a small colony in the Terminus system, for now. Since his new military standing, Garrus had the pull to do this, and it was damn important too.

"Dad, I don't even know where to start. Shepard... she's changing. This war against the Reapers is eating her alive, and every day I see her slipping further away. I try to help, to be there for her, but it's like putting a bandage on a wound that just won't heal.

And there's something else, something I never thought I'd have to tell you. Spirits, how do I even begin? I think... I have a child. Or something close to it. It's complicated, and I'm scared. I need your advice more than ever now, but I also need to know that you and Sol are safe.

Please, when you get this message, let me know how you both are. And if you can, send me some words of wisdom. Your son, G."

He quickly left the second room, venturing upstairs.

Moments later, Shepard emerged from her room, her presence drawing Garrus's attention as he stood on the balcony. He overlooked the bottom floor, gazing out of the large windows into the strip, turning to her with a smile. "To borrow a phrase from Vega: you looked smoking in that dress, Shepard.", Garrus complemented. "You got some looks. So, did I, though the ones directed at me said," How did a turian like that get a girl like her?" Hell, if I know."

Shepard stood by him, nudging his arm, "I could ask myself the same question.", she smiled.

He leaned on her, sighing. "Ever wonder how many people question why we're together?"

Shepard's eyes sparkled with amusement as she glanced at him before returning her gaze to the stars outside. "You know, Garrus, amidst all this intergalactic chaos, it's the little things that keep us going. Like the fact that a turian and a human can see beyond the species divide and find something real," she said with a playful smirk. "And hey, we can always say it's for the greater good – mending relations post-contact war and all that. Who knew love could be so diplomatic?"

Garrus chuckled, a spark of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Ouch," he said, glancing down at the floor below the balcony. "You know, I wasn't even born yet at that time.”

"Yes," she responded softly, her gaze becoming distant and heavy.

He looked to her, his arm gently wrapping around her shoulders. "How long were you an orphan on Earth?" he asked, his voice tinged with a quiet sorrow.

"Ever since I can remember," she replied, her voice laced with a touch of melancholy. But then, with a shake of her head, she banished the thought and flashed him a mischievous grin. "If you're trying to bring up our age difference, Garrus, you'd better tread carefully," she teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Sure, I might have had a few years on you back then, but being dead for two years kind of evens the playing field, wouldn't you say? Lazarus Project and all that."

Garrus, sensing her need to bury the past, decided to lighten the mood. With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he smirked. "Couldn't resist my boyish charms, could you?" he teased, his voice filled with playful confidence.

Shepard let out a delighted laugh. "More like irresistible mischief!" she teased, her eyes sparkling with playfulness.

After a moment of banter, she sprinted down the stairs, heading straight to the dining room. Her crew was scattered around the cozy apartment, soaking in the inviting atmosphere and sharing stories of their latest adventures.

Every member of her team deserved this place, not only to relax but to prepare for the battle to come. Shepard approached the table where EDI and Brooks stood.

"I think we've got something, Commander.", Brooks informed.

"I am glad to see my physical proximity was not necessary to the success of the mission, Shepard.", EDI commented.

"Let's see what you find before we call it a win.", Shepard replies.

Brooks brought up a holo panel over the table edge. "Commander, EDI and I have been analyzing those drivers. I think we found something if you're ready."

"Let's hear it.", Shepard eagerly replied.

Everyone gathered around the table, anticipation buzzing in the air. "Though the data's root structure was erased, the logic integrity remains viable," EDI announced, her voice calm and confident, drawing everyone's attention.

"EDI has an incredible talent for this stuff. I know she's an AI, but even still. We found an encrypted communication from a few days ago, just need another minute to crack it.", Brooks informed.

She bent over the panel, carefully hacking the data. Joker stepped to the table with a smirk, "A whole minute? EDI here could shave that down to five seconds."

EDI continued, "I thought it best to allow Staff Analyst Brooks a chance to improve her decryption skills."

"And now you've lost your chance to show off.", Joker mused.

Satima smiled while sniggering. It had been a long while since she last stood around a table with her crew. But a shadow lingered in her mind, the memory of Jormun's fate casting a pall over her thoughts. The unresolved mystery of Do’ova gnawed at her, a silent anguish she kept hidden behind her smile.

Brooks leaned back with crossed arms in admiration, "Like she needs it. You're the crew of the Normandy. You're legends to the rest of the Alliance."

This intrigued Shepard, "Legends can be good or bad. Which are we?"
Brooks continued with added enthusiasm, "You're the kind that people look up to. The kind they owe their lives to."

Wrex scoffed, "Then how come everyone's always shooting at us?"

"I think it's mostly you, Wrex. The bigger the target, the bigger the...uh, target.", Tali spoke awkwardly.

"You're saying I've gained weight?", Wrex replied upset.

Shepard covered her face, shaking her head, while the rest of the room became silent. "It just means there's more of the legend to love.", Liara replied quickly much to everyone's relief. Wrex gave an angry growl towards the weight comment.

"Just because he isn't as graceful as an asari or as agile as a quarian..." Satima grinned, her eyes gleaming with amusement.

Liara and Tali exchanged a knowing glance, their curiosity piqued. Wrex, unable to contain his curiosity, eyed Satima before breaking into a hearty laugh, his deep roar reverberating through the room.

A moment later, he quieted down. The whole atmosphere became unpleasant. "Uh...so, continuing. And… and the camaraderie, the friendship? I think that's your secret weapon.", Brooks said nervously.

Coming back from the oddest moment in Normandy team history, Shepard replied to Brooks comment, "It's all just part of the job." She quickly glanced to the team, especially Wrex. Hoping for no more antics.

"Wait..."job?" You mean the rest of you are getting paid for this?", Garrus joked.

A few short laughs later, the panel pinged blue with information. "Here we go. Wow. Those mercs who were after you? They bought a lot of weapons. Like, big ones."

A holo image of a mech displayed in front of the Normandy model above the table. "Mechs? What do they need that kind of firepower for?", Ashley wondered aloud.

Glyph flew by, scanning the image then started glowing red. "I have just monitored the commander's Spectre access code in use at the Citadel Archives."

"Punch it up.", Shepard ordered.

Another holo display of the archive station hovered above the surface of the table. "The archives are going into emergency lockdown. Whoever's hacking your records is there right now?" Brooks exclaimed.

"What do we know about the place?", Shepard asked.

Garrus faced Shepard, "Council keeps sensitive historical information there. Real hush-hush. Even my old C-Sec clearance never got me in."

"Then we'll find our own way in. Gear up, and let's-", Shepard began walking away from the table, before she stopped short in front of a volus. He held up a flat carton to her, "Delivery" he said. She turned to James and the rest of the team, "What's with the volus?"

"Oh. Pizza-delivery guy. I got the munchies.", James replied.

"Double pepperoni.", the delivery volus said to them.

"What's a pizza?", Satima asked suddenly.

"The most awesomely delicious, cheesy, meat covered food ever. Seriously the only food you will ever need.", James exclaimed with enthusiasm.

"Ah. So... it's good?", Satima asked.

"Yes!", James replied happily.

With that little conversation over, Shepard stared at the volus in annoyance while Brooks continued her analysis, "These archives are huge. You'll have a lot of ground to cover. Shame you can't bring everyone."

Shepard turned around with a smile, "Who says we can't? All hands-on deck for this one."

"Hell, yeah. But, uh, who gets to take point with you?", James asked curious.

Wrex and Javik exchanged amused glances, their attention fixed on Shepard. Tali and Liara, sensing the mischievous tone of the conversation, followed suit, their eyes twinkling with curiosity. Suddenly, a louder "ahem" resonated from the front of the kitchen, drawing everyone's attention.

"Who's going to pay the bill?" an irritated volus asked, his voice tinged with impatience.

With the volus paid, the whole team prepares for the mission to the archives.

Satima approaches Shepard in the closet as she changes into armor. "So, I heard you're taking Wrex and Liara. I need to accompany you, watch your back from whoever this bad guy is", Satima pleaded.

"I can handle myself. Satima, what's got you so spooked?", Shepard asked concerned.

"This person that's after you, I think... just be careful.", Satima warned.

"I will.", Shepard added.

The sky cars carrying the squads zoomed over the wards. Hastily reaching their destination. "What's the best way into the archives?", Shepard asked over comms.

Brooks sat beside James in their sky car, "The facility is located below the Wards. Maybe a direct breach for maximum surprise?"

"I like it. Sounds like you're learning the ropes.", Shepard replied.

"Hell, hang out with us long enough, and you'll learn ropes, knives, bombs, thresher maws...", Cortez jested.

"But don't hang out too long, or pretty soon you'll be making friends with asari.", Wrex bantered.

"I heard that.", Liara replied.

The sky cars descended gracefully onto the rooftop of the archive station, casting long shadows over the sprawling cityscape. From their vantage point, the bustling districts below seemed unaware of the imminent covert operation. The team exchanged knowing glances, adrenaline surging through their veins as they prepared for the small but crucial raid.

Everyone piled out, clustering together for a swift and strategic briefing. The tension in the air was visible, every team member acutely aware of the need for stealth. "The archives are somewhere below us. Infiltrating won't be easy," Brooks warned, her voice a blend of urgency and determination. The element of surprise was their greatest asset, and they were ready to seize it.

James held a small bomb, "Not really."

With the bomb securely planted, the team took a synchronized step back, anticipation crackling in the air. The explosion ripped through the metal panel, sending it crashing to the floor below in a shower of sparks and flying debris. "Hell, James!" Ashley exclaimed, her voice a mix of annoyance and surprise. "I told you to step back, bella," he responded with a wink, his grin as explosive as the blast.

Shepard observed that little moment with a bit of surprise herself and shook her head in amusement. Wrex soon hopped down with eagerness,"Krogan first! See you at the party, princesses!"

With Liara in tow, Ashley and Tali followed, as well as EDI and Javik. James waited for Satima who was next. "After you, princess lola.", he grinned.

Satima gave him a confused expression before leaping down.

Garrus, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other, suddenly felt the need to remind Shepard. "Shepard, we really need to talk about the Satima situation," he said, his voice betraying a hint of urgency. He glanced down briefly, feeling awkward about bringing it up at such a moment.

"Yeah, okay. We can do that," Shepard replied with a mischievous smile that lit up her eyes. They both leaped down last, exchanging a knowing look. Shepard couldn't help but chuckle, replaying the memory of Satima's bewildered expression when she was called "princess lola."

The team swiftly descended the ladder into the dimly lit shaft, their movements fluid and precise. Shepard expertly uncovered a hidden vent, beckoning them to follow. One by one, they crawled through the narrow passage, emerging into a vast room filled with desks and workstations.

The ceiling held a stunning model of the citadel, its glowing wards casting an ambient light through the structure. Upstairs, Garrus and Tali, along with Satima, moved with calculated caution as they cleared the area. The atmosphere grew tense as red lasers suddenly painted their bodies, signaling imminent danger.

Shepard looked down to see the same red lasers targeting her, "Not this again...", she complained.

Cat6 mercs ran into the room, firing their weapons. "Ambush!", Wrex yelled. Shepard took a few hits, nothing her shielding couldn't handle. She ran behind a wall, "Scatter and take cover!"

"In the old days, we had at least five minutes before the mission went south.", Wrex shouted.

With a swift, powerful move, he slammed into an unsuspecting mercenary, sending the body flying over a desk. Garrus, precision in his eyes, unleashed a hail of bullets from his rifle, targeting a group attempting to flank the other team. Tali's fingers danced over her omni-tool, and with a surge of energy, she brought down their shields. "Shepard brought the full crew!" a mercenary lieutenant shouted, fear creeping into his voice. "Box them in!" their captain barked back, his voice filled with urgency and desperation.

Shepard dashed forward, sniping a specialist off the catwalks above. "Brooks, you okay?"

Brooks sounded frantic, "Upstairs! Scattering and taking cover!"

Liara sent a singularity, catching two snipers. Satima held her own against a merc, using her deadly skills more efficiently. "Satima, I see you're getting better at this.", Shepard shouted.

"Practice makes perfect!", she dispatched another merc quickly.

"Aren't you proud, Shepard.", Wrex laughed.

Tali took cover with Ashley, who was unleashing a barrage of fire on a squad of mercenaries. "Hold on, what is he talking about?" Ashley asked, her voice filled with curiosity and a hint of frustration.

Four cat6 mercs sprinted through, flanking Shepard. Garrus and Wrex worked together on the troops above the room on the catwalks, while EDI used her droid strength to subdue the third group coming through the door.

Shepard rose to confront the last mercenary trailing in, her eyes steely with resolve. Just as she prepared to strike, the mercenary crumpled to the floor, lifeless. Satima stood behind him, a playful smirk on her face. "Oops, my bad. You can take the next one," she teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief. Shepard raised an eyebrow, a mix of amusement and incredulity on her face.

"Didn't you get the memo, bella? There's more to our newest crew member than meets the eye. Am I right, Garrus?" James chuckled loudly, speaking to Ashley. "Come on, admit it, Garrus. You sure know how to keep secrets! Keeping a daughter hidden in the crew... Who would have thought?" James teased, his laughter echoing in the tense atmosphere.

Garrus sulked behind a wall, holding the mantis tightly to his chest. Spirits, everyone knows? His mandibles twitched in embarrassment, and he could feel the heat rising under his carapace. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself before emerging from the side of the wall and taking out two specialists on the catwalk. "I'm kind of busy right now, Vega," he replied, his voice strained as he attempted to maintain his composure amidst the growing sense of mortification.

Amid the chaos, a figure appeared at the top of the stairs, clutching Brooks tightly with a weapon pressed to her side. "That's enough!" she bellowed, her voice cutting through the noise. The room fell into a tense silence as everyone froze, weapons still drawn but aimed low. "Drop your weapons, or she pays the price!" the captor demanded, her eyes wild with desperation.

"You bitch.", Brooks cursed in gritted teeth. Struggling against her captor.

"All right...", Shepard laid her weapons down. Satima was pushed forward next to her, warily eying the figure above, as her heart pounded hard from the eerie surprise. Brooks had been pushed by the figure to the floor below, where Shepard and her squad stood.

"Whatever you think you're getting away with..." Brooks, now free from her captor, dashed to Shepard's side. "There's nowhere you can run, nowhere you can hide where we won't find you," Shepard warned, her voice a low, dangerous growl. Satima's eyes darted to Brooks, noticing the strange calmness of someone who had just been a hostage. It was as if she knew something the others didn't.

The figure smirked, "Hide? Why?" She stepped into the lighting of the room, "I am Commander Shepard. I never hide."

The real Shepard stared in disbelief. Everyone couldn't believe it either. Another Shepard? But how? "Holy Shit...", Satima muttered.

"Uh-huh. So, that's how it's going to be.", Wrex concluded.

"Who are you?", Shepard asked stunned.

The clone confronted Shepard, "You weren't the only Shepard that Cerberus brought back to life, but at least one of us will finally do something with it."

The commander was stunned. A clone? An exact replica of herself? "Where did you come from?", she asked curiously.

"The same DNA as you.", she scoffs.

"A clone.", Wrex answers.

Satima felt a sudden wave of queasiness. Everything about this scenario was disturbingly familiar. Clones... why did it always have to be clones? The entire team stood poised, muscles tense and weapons ready, but they awaited Shepard's command. They trusted her to extract the truth behind this madness before unleashing their fury.

The clone begins to pace around her, "Cerberus spared no expense resurrecting you. With me. I was created for spare parts in case you needed another arm, a heart, or a lung."

Shepard couldn't imagine what this clone went through at the hands of the Illusive man. "Where have you been this whole time?"

"In a coma... until I woke up six months ago. While you were in a jail cell on Earth, I was learning to be human.", the clone informed.

Satima glanced at Shepard in surprise. Incarcerated? On Earth?

Shepard had flashbacks of when she first woke up on the Cerberus station. Scarred and sore. Was that all a ruse? Is she a clone also? The other Shepard continued, "Amazing what a person can do with enough neural implants."

"If you're really me, then we're on the same team.", Shepard replied.

"We're not even in the same league.", the clone responded with spite.

Shepard became uneasy, "Did the Illusive Man send you?"

"No. He abandoned me when he had what he wanted. You.", she answered.

"Then why are you trying to kill us?", Liara asked.

The clone turned away, pacing towards the door, "Because I don't have her memories. I'd never fool my supposed friends. The ones that abandoned their duty to join the cult of Shepard."

Satima scoffed, her eyes narrowing with disdain. The clone's gaze shifted towards her, then to Liara. "Like you, Doctor T'Soni. You're nothing more than a college cheerleader pretending to be a soldier. Or Garrus Vakarian. Your dear, sweet, burnt-out, old turian cop, Shepard," the clone sneered, a malevolent smirk spreading across her face. "Turning heads with the scandal of your… close relations," she taunted, her voice dripping with venomous sarcasm.

"You're just an imitation of the real thing!" Garrus shouted, his voice echoing defiantly from the balcony.

The clone stepped forward to them, "I'm the real thing PERFECTED!", she yelled. "I'm you without the wear and tear, Shepard. The doubts, the failures. I'm the lone wolf you were always meant to be." She glanced to the crew upstairs, and all around, "Without the emotional baggage holding me back."

"You're delusional," Satima retorted, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife. Shepard shot her a warning glance, silently urging her to be cautious. The clone took a menacing step towards Satima, her grin widening with twisted pleasure. "Oh, look. If it isn't my emotionally disturbed daughter," she sneered, her eyes glinting with malicious glee.

Liara's eyes widened in shock, a gasp escaping her lips. Who could have possibly leaked such sensitive information?! No one could hack the Shadow Broker, could they?

"I'm not your daughter, you spare parts bitch!" Satima shouted, struggling fiercely against the grip of two Cat6 mercenaries. The clone's eyes darkened, and with a swift motion, she struck Satima hard across the mouth, drawing blood from her lower lip. "Watch your mouth, hybrid. It can get you into a lot of trouble," she hissed, her voice a low, menacing growl.

Shepard took a step forward, ready to strike, but mercenaries held her back with an iron grip. She knew she could overpower them, but the danger was too great. Garrus, from his vantage point, felt a surge of conflicting emotions—should he intervene or stay hidden?

"No one will ever believe you're Shepard.", Wrex warned.

"They will when I'm flying her ship.", she replied with a smirk.

Shepard urgently tapped her communicator, trying to initiate an emergency lockdown on the Normandy. Her heart pounded in her chest as she realized, with a sinking feeling, that the clone had already anticipated this move and had scanned her codes. How could she have been so careless? The clone's preemptive block rendered it impossible for Shepard to warn her crew, trapping them in a precarious situation that seemed to tighten with every passing second.

Clone Shepard sent a message to Traynor, prepping the Normandy for an emergency departure, and Traynor believed it! Shepard's anger towards the clone became hostile.

She no longer felt pity, but a murderous rage inside. "Never thought I'd say it, but I'm looking forward to killing myself."

Clone Shepard was taken aback, "I guess ominous threats of violence run in our DNA, but mine is more than a threat.', she turned around towards the door, "Execute them, except the hybrid. The cult of Shepard ends today." The clone disappeared through the door.

Shepard's eyes darted between her fallen gun and the imposing citadel model hanging precariously above. In a swift, decisive move, she lunged for the gun, her fingers closing around the familiar grip. With a deep breath, she aimed and fired at one of the glass arms of the structure. The crack spread rapidly, and within moments, the arm shattered into hundreds of deadly shards, raining down like a storm of glass daggers.

Shepard moves out of the way, as the model falls on top of mercs. The team scatters again, finding cover from the remaining cat6's firing on them. "We still got everyone?", Shepard yells worried.

"We're on the balcony!", Tali informs. "I'm okay, too.", Brooks shouts.

Shepard kills a merc, running up the stairs to cover, "Where's everyone else?"

"Other side!", Cortez reassures loudly.

"On high ground with a sniper rifle. Doesn't get any better than this!", Garrus shouts.

Everyone's sarcastic remarks filled the air, but one voice cut through the chaos. "Satima! Are you in cover?" Shepard's voice crackled over the comms, urgent and strained. Silence. A static-laden message followed, chilling in its brevity. "She can't talk right now. I gave her a time out," came the clone's taunting reply.

"Dammit! She's got Satima!" Shepard's voice was a mix of fear and anger, her eyes flicking around the room in desperation.

"Don't worry. We'll get to her, Commander!", Ashley reassures.

"No one takes off with family.", Wrex yells.

The merc captain orders his men to kill Shepard's crew, but he replies with how they have a krogan. Shepard laughed. "Wouldn't want to be you, princesses!", Wrex warned.

"Shit. That's a prothean over there!", a merc yelled in fear. "And that's a future corpse over there!", Javik quipped back.

Shepard watched her crew dispatch mercs across the room. One of them ran backward behind a wall, "I think that turian they've got is Archangel! How the hell are we going to kill him?"

"You're not!", Garrus replies. "Oh shit!", the lieutenant merc shouts. "Then maybe the other Shepard should've stuck around to help!"

Shepard sniped a specialist on the balcony, "I guess you picked the wrong leader.", she said. The merc fell to Liara, "We're clear! Now where'd the other you go?"

Shepard bypassed the first door leading inside the archive station, "She's pushing into the archives. Stay in your groups! Team Mako, you're on point"

"Right, what's a mako?", Brooks interrupted.

"Something we could use right about now.", Liara mused.

Shepard ran ahead swiftly, "Team Hammerhead, cover the flank!" She took cover behind a desk inside an office.

"Got it! And the Mako's got nothing on the Hammerhead.", Cortez shouted.

Shepard and her team dashed through the scanning terminal, bursting onto the second level of the archive station. Before them stretched a vast expanse, lined with towering metal cylinders and intricate scanners. Catwalks and balconies crisscrossed the space, creating a labyrinthine structure. "Huh. Big place," Wrex remarked, his voice echoing in the cavernous room.

"Shepard, what do you think your clone is looking for in here?", Tali asked.

Shepard led her team forward, glancing at her two other teams on the catwalks above. "At this point, anything's possible.", she replied.

"Like waking up and finding out you have a clone?", Ashley smirked.

"I don't want to talk about it.", Shepard warned.

Shepard had Glyph track her clone's location. With Satima in the clone's grasp, the stakes couldn't be higher, and it was clear this imposter had a grand scheme in motion. The archive station sprawled out like an elaborate maze. Team Mako was positioned above, while Hammerhead flanked to the right. Navigating this labyrinth as an employee must have been a daily ordeal, but now it felt like a battlefield, each corner hiding potential peril.

Ahead up the stairs of the balcony, they ran into another squad of cat6 mercs. A platform came down with heavy fire on Shepard and her teams. "There they are! The other Shepard's still alive!", the merc captain roared.

"Take her down! I need more time to find the vault!", the clone ordered.

These weren't the mercs from before. They were all cat6 heavies. Each merc had double the shielding and plenty of fire power. An exceptional challenge for Shepard and crew. Wrex rammed his way through the small squad as Shepard and Liara picked them off.

With the specialists quickly dispatched, Shepard proceeded to the platform. "Shepard, step into that lift, and we can lower you from here.", Tali informed her.

Lowered onto the next platform, a vault with a barrier comes sliding through a rail system. "Now if you get into the vault, we can move you across.", Brooks said.

"Accessing vault T91.", a VI echoes.

The vault moved quickly, with enough harsh stops to prevent Shepard from keeping her footing. She spots a gun inside a display case. M-7 Lancer. "Look at this. It says this gun was part of the First Contact War.

"Year 2157." Liara reads. Wrex smirks, "Yeah, back when humans and turians were at each other's throats."

The vault came to a jarring halt at another platform. Shepard and her team leaped out, their movements swift and urgent. Glyph hovered close, delivering crucial intel. "The other 'you' is just 200 meters ahead, searching for something," he informed her. The tension was palpable; they were closing in.

Wrex quipped about the irony of battling an evil twin, while Ashley mused aloud about the tactical advantage of sending a clone on perilous missions instead of risking the real deal.

Shepard didn't want to talk about it. They came to an opening between vaults, hopping down to a vaulted roof. Lined together in rows, next to other catwalks and balconies.

"Dagger squad! I need more time to reach the vault! This little bitch is proving to be a handful.", the clone yelled over her comms.

"Shepard! I'm at th..." There was a hard hit, followed by a thud. Shepard felt time was running out.

"The other Shepard sounds like a real asshole!", Cortez shouts angrily.

"Watch out for disruption drones!", Tali yelled.

Shepard expertly took aim with her rifle, targeting a sniper perched across the vaults. The sharp crack of her shot echoed through the cavernous space, while her team swiftly neutralized the remaining enemies. Waves of adversaries fell under the relentless assault, sent to their doom by her ruthless clone.

How she held such command over these men and women with her own tyrannical behavior, perplexed Shepard. But she wasn't going to let them or the clone stop her.

Pink lights reflected the metal surfaces of the vaults around them. Making the mercs armor stick out like a sore thumb. "Team mako moving ahead! Catch you on the other side!", Garrus informs.

"Maybe we can circle around them on the tubes?", Wrex asked.

Down another catwalk and over crates, they run into the last of the mercs on this floor. Shepard skillfully snipes them down, as Liara used her biotic powers to whittle their shields and confuse the mercs. Wrex barely gets a shot in. "Shepard! They've got us pinned down! We could use some help!". Tali shouted over comms.

"On our way!", Shepard yelled, leaping over crates.

Up ahead, Shepard could hear the mercs firing on her team. "We've got Shepard's squad surrounded!", the merc captain blared over comms.

"Eliminate them! I need more time!", the clone demanded.

Shepard sniped the first two mercenaries pinning down Tali and Javik with precision. James unleashed his carnage ability on a group over the catwalk, the explosion painting the nearby metal crates with blood and gore. Liara followed up with a singularity, rendering the remaining mercenaries helpless, suspended in mid-air.

"Wrex! Get them off our family!" Shepard's voice carried a mix of urgency and anger. Wrex responded with a thunderous roar, a sound that struck terror into the hearts of their enemies.

Some of the mercenaries attempted to flee, but they were not fast enough to escape Wrex's fury. He tore through their armor with raw power, ignoring the bullet spray that pelted him. Meanwhile, Shepard's aim was unwavering as she opened fire on three more specialists attempting to flank Garrus.

Shepard sprinted forward, deftly weaving through the chaos to line up a perfect shot, taking down a sniper perched on a catwalk. She spun around, her eyes blazing with determination, as more mercenaries poured in from the stairwell. "Go! I'll cover you!" she shouted with unwavering resolve, ready to face the oncoming threat head-on.

Her teams hastily ascended the ladder to the next level, moving with a sense of urgency and precision. Shepard found herself momentarily overwhelmed, sprinting towards the ladder only to be halted by a stray bullet. "This is Shepard, we need..." she began, but before she could finish, her entire team above unleashed a barrage of firepower upon the mercenaries. It was a swift and decisive end for their foes.

With a grin, Shepard climbed the ladder, joining her comrades.

"That's why I love hanging with you guys! Why shoot something once when you can shoot it 46 more times!" Wrex bellowed nostalgically, his voice filled with a mix of pride and camaraderie.

Everyone laughed, as Shepard appeared on the balcony. Garrus ran up to her, "You alright?", he asked concerned. Shepard squeezed his arm, "I'm good."

"Well, if you two are done "checking" each other...", Ashley smiled.

"The... other me-can't be far. Keep up the pressure, and we'll try to surround her. Let's move.", Shepard led on.

Shepard's team found themselves staring at holo images of the past. The citadel's first recordings of a human prisoner by turians.

Past a door, they ventured down to level three. The next room had many holo images of past recordings, along with mercs waiting to ambush Shepard caught a glimpse of a krogan warlord attacking the council. "Imagine the history of this place. It must stretch back thousands of years.", Liara wondered.

"I just wonder what the other me is looking for in here.", Shepard pondered out loud.

"I know it's not dancing tips.", Wrex replied with a smirk.

"Shut up, Wrex.", Shepard warned.

They were assaulted by detonation drones, sent to deplete their shields to make them vulnerable to weapons fire. Between Liara's singularity and Wrex's brute force, these cat6 mercs didn't stand a chance.

Shepard lobbed lift grenades to expose merc squads, leaving them injured and slow. "This is Hammerhead! Enemy contact ahead, Shepard! We'll draw their fire!", Ashley alerted them.

Merc lieutenants shouted commands to each other, warning their squads of Shepard's teams. One lieutenant feared Wrex, screaming the order for someone to kill him.

Wrex replied, challenging for someone to try! The mercs all cursed to themselves, afraid to admit their hesitance to confront the krogan. Shepard looked across the office room, a glaring white sign with the number 3 strained her eyes. It was quite dark in these offices.

Flashing red and blue lights cast an eerie glow over the battlefield. Shepard's eyes darted upwards, spotting a sniper zeroing in on her. The shot rang out but missed its mark, the sniper meeting a swift end thanks to Garrus's precise rifle shot. Moments later, the floor fell silent, and the last of the mercenaries dispatched. "I think we got them all, well I mean you guys did.", Brooks commed.

"Hammerhead and Mako, keep pushing ahead.", Shepard ordered.
Shepard and team rushed through to the fourth level. She passed by more holo images of the citadel's past.

So much rich history displayed before her, shame she couldn't stop long enough to get more of the stories. A recording of the first VI uprisings, the Spectre offer to a salarian, the first asari boarding the citadel.
And of course, the Reapers. In the distance of the fourth floor, the merc captain yelled his orders for his team to stop them. The mercs are losing fast.

"Attention, low-life mercenary wannabes! Say "please", and we'll accept your surrender!", James informed sarcastically.

"Say "pretty please", and maybe Wrex will take a break.", Tali added.

"Try it, and we'll see!", Wrex laughed.

The mercs began losing their resolve to fight as a team, making mistakes in the battle. One tried sneaking on Wrex and was promptly knocked over the railing to the first floor below. Shepard spotted Wrex begin a melee battle with a cat6 heavy, his shielding stronger than the rest of his squad.

She used frags to blow the shields off balance, giving Wrex an opportunity to finish him with his shotgun.

Glyph showed up, next to Shepard. "Where's the target, Glyph."

"She is searching for a secret vault. She did not wish to be disturbed.", he replied.

"What?", Shepard asked, confused.

"I thought she was you.", Glyph said.

Shepard ran to cover, while her other teams busied with the firefight. "Go find her again!", she replied, annoyed.

The fourth-floor offices led through a door, downstairs into a storage area. Glyph worked swiftly to bypass the lock, revealing a vast vault storage area. A catwalk with a towering mech overlooked the scene, while mercs took cover behind metal crates ahead. Shepard couldn't help but smirk. "Great," she shouted, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Atlas on the walkway!", Wrex reminded.

They took cover, watching the second team follow up on the walkway across. "Team Mako here. Got'em in our sights!", Garrus reported.

"Team Hammerhead here, providing moral support.", Cortez informed.

"Eight-hundred-pound krogan here, providing the boom!", Wrex interrupted with a laugh.

Shepard began firing at the mech, using her tech skills to attack the shields. "We've got her in our sights!", the merc captain shouted.

"Put her in the ground!", the clone ordered.

"Now we've done it! You're welcome, Team Mako!", Liara shouted agitated.

Team Mako sprinted up the walkway, adrenaline coursing through their veins as the towering mech zeroed in on Shepard. Explosions erupted around them as rockets targeted their path, forcing them to dart from cover to cover in a deadly game of cat and mouse.

Wrex ran straight towards it, fearlessly hitting the mech's armor plating with his shotgun. Liara used her lift grenades to stun the driver of the Atlas, as Shepard finished it off with her rifle. It stopped firing, exploding in bloody chunks of metal. "I must say, I do enjoy watching mechs explode.", Liara said.

The team ran up the walkway, hurrying to the other end, trying to reach the clone. Glyph followed, alerting Shepard to a "razor squad" awaiting ahead.

As she stepped onto the main floor from the first walkway, a platform in front lifted with cat6 heavies, all utilizing shields and deadly fire power. Liara glanced up to a small balcony above them." We can take cover there!", she shouted.

Shepard took the upper balcony while Liara and Wrex stayed below. "Team Mako here! Showing Team Hammerhead how it's done!", Garrus commed, his tone brimming with competitiveness.

Shepard's sniper rifle rang out, taking specialists down with precise headshots, as Ashley's sarcastic banter echoed in her ear. The friendly rivalry between the teams pushed everyone to their limits, showcasing their prowess and determination. They wanted to prove to Shepard just how formidable a team she had forged.

Amidst the chaos of the battlefield, Shepard didn't have a moment to respond, her focus locked on neutralizing the mercenaries. Yet, deep inside, a swell of pride filled her heart. They were more than capable, her team of warriors, and they would thrive even in her absence.

The Razor Squad advanced towards Shepard, their determination clear. Mako and Hammerhead from above, raining chaos as they crossed the platform boundaries.

Liara unleashed a singularity, swiftly followed by lift grenades, stunning the enemies. Yet, the sheer number of mercenaries was daunting. Grenades exploded around them, creating a maelstrom of fire and shrapnel. Shepard, undeterred, took aim and fired her heaviest pistol with lethal precision.

The Razor Squad's fatal mistake was remaining exposed. Despite their shields, the lack of cover made them easy targets. Both teams above unleashed a relentless onslaught, decimating them. The battle was fierce but brief, ending with the mercenaries' swift defeat.

"We're clear!", Cortez shouted excitedly.

"Looks like I saved everyone's ass again! Heh heh.", Wrex boasted.

Shepard pushed a merc's body aside, hastily gunning for the next door. "Hammerhead and Mako, keep pushing ahead!", she ordered loudly. Another wave of cat6 mercs stopped them from going further, again. There seemed to be no end to this scum.

Glyph came by, "Commander, the other you wishes to pass on a message." He played the recording, "Shepard save yourself the trouble. Once I have what I came here for, you won't matter anymore. Now go, drone! Deliver it!"

Shepard's heart pounded as she received the message, her breath hitching at the silence from Satima's end. Determined to stay focused, she pushed the worry aside and continued to eliminate the remaining mercenaries with precision. Each shot rang out, a testament to her unwavering resolve and the strength of her team.

She passed by a holo image of the genophage being dispersed into Tuchunka's atmosphere. A lone salarian scientist warning the turians about the ramifications of it. The ignorant and desperate turians used it anyway.

Wrex looks on, not wanting to hear any more of it. More cat6's assault them. This was getting tiresome and brutal. The other Shepard displayed cruelty, violence, and a bad temper. Complete opposite of Shepard, herself.

The firefight proved challenging, but taxing on the group. As the last of the mercs advanced, Shepard received a com from Tali. "We see the clone, Shepard! Mako going in!"

"Team Mako, we're coming up behind you! What's your status?", Shepard shouted in a hurry. She and her team finished off a sniper, running through a door to the last level. "We're under...", Brooks comms died out.

"Team Mako?", Shepard shouted.

Shepard stopped abruptly on the last holo image in front of her. It was her with the crucible hovering behind. All information about her beginning as an orphan on Earth, to the advancement of the N7 squads, her role as Commander, and the Normandy.

More information flooded the holo screens, with Saren and the geth, Sovereign in the background. She shook off the feeling of nostalgia. There were more important matters ahead.

"Commander, do you copy?", Brooks suddenly commed.

"What's your status?", Shepard asked.

She and Liara scanned the offices, eyes sharp for any hidden mercenaries. The coast seemed clear, but the tension was evident. Suddenly, Brook's voice crackled through the comms, "The other you is jamming our radios! Hammerhead and Mako are moving to cut her off, but I've been hit! I need help, please hurry!"

Shepard dashed through the final door, her heart racing. The biometric scan halted her for a split second before the VI recognized her Spectre status and granted access. She burst into the room, weapon at the ready. "Commander, over here! Help!" Brooks' desperate voice echoed through the chaos, her urgency severe.

The vault access room was dimly lit, with red lights over the rails. Shepard couldn't see her. She stepped onto an open vault, seeing a doorway across. Wrex and Liara followed. As they fully loaded into the vault, the barrier activated. "That can't be good.", Liara said worried.

"Brooks! The vault sealed us in!", Shepard commed.

They looked around for a way out. "Is there an override?", Wrex asked.

"None that I can see," Liara responded, her gaze sharp and vigilant. Shepard urgently toggled through her comm channels, her voice laced with resolve. "Cortez? Brooks? Do you read me? Is anyone on this frequency?" Her heart pounded as she awaited a response, the silence pressing in with an almost tangible weight.

The clone stepped out of the doorway they previously came through, her eyes gleaming with malevolence as she crossed her arms. "The short answer is no. They're not."

Shepard began firing at the barrier. She was trapped. "The longer answer involves your friends being trapped in iridium vaults and forgotten
for...well, forever.", the clone smiled, gesturing to the other vaults around them.

"Others know about this. About you. The Alliance will stop you.", Shepard warned.

The clone Shepard stepped forward, closer to the barrier, a sinister smile curling her lips. "What do you think, Staff Analyst Brooks? Will the Alliance stop us?"

Brooks stepped into view, dragging a barely conscious Satima, a sinister grin on her face. "I wouldn't know. I don't actually work for them."

Shepard glared at her clone, muscles tensed and ready to strike. "Who the hell are you? And do you really think I won't hunt you down?"

"My name doesn't matter. I never keep the same one for more than a few days. And if the Illusive Man hasn't found me yet, you never will.", Brooks smirked.

"You're Cerberus?", Shepard asked, surprised.

Brooks paced, her mind racing with memories of her time in Cerberus, every step echoing the tension in the room. "He's indoctrinated," she hissed, her eyes narrowing, "but I prefer the voices in my head to remain my own."

Shepard shook her head with a mixture of disbelief and determination. The Illusive Man's indoctrination was no secret, but what drove these two to hatch such a reckless plan? "Why didn't you come to me?" Shepard's voice was a blend of frustration and challenge. "We could have forged an alliance, combined our strengths."

"In a way, we did. I'm the one who put together all those dossiers on your "suicide mission.", Brooks informed.

"The Collector base?", Shepard asked.

Brooks nodded in satisfaction, "There was the salarian doctor, the asari justicar, the drell. They were all mistakes. We were a pro-human group who started looking to aliens for help. So, I bided my time, and when I found another you who agreed... I woke her up."