#outcast kaius

[xy-art]

「 “It is the maddening pain and unstoppable tears of those afflicted with the flame of frenzy brought into being.” 」

[befuddled-calico-whump]

i'm sending a 2-in-1: riot kinds/t$$ universe swap. how would the characters fare in the other setting?

ooooh

T$$ Cast:

Hunter would be in the Riot Kings. Hands down. Even if he's still kind of an outcast, they'd give him the sense of belonging and purpose he's after. And since psychics exist, his implant would manifest as inherent abilities. It's entirely possible a research facility would make him their lab rat if his abilities became more widely known.

Joy would've joined the Fleet at a young age, but eventually separated and gotten into contracting, acting as an engineer or hired gun.

Jericho would be a Melchior lolol. Either climbing the ranks of the Riot Kings and making people angry as he tries to make non-violent change, or leading an entirely separate rebellion against the Fleet.

Vic and Sahota would be some of the Fleet's "under the table assets", sent in to do their dirty work. Sahota might've started as a regular recruit who accidentally saw too much, so Vic forced him into the role.

Kaius would probably be working intelligence at Mainfleet. Maybe in this case, one or both parents were high-ranking officers who pushed him into the field. He'd get detained for "treasonous behavior" after trying to report some war crimes he witnessed while monitoring missions.

Benji would also be a psychic in this AU, with minor telekinesis and memory abilities. He would've been "recruited" by the Fleet for research and training, similar to Nabi, but in his case he's being pardoned for theft in exchange for his cooperation.

Riot Kings Cast:

Nabi would be a college student who was randomly affected by a Rotorworx experiment gone wrong, and developed her empathy/memory powers because of it. Rotorworx would attempt to recruit her as an intern in order to study the effects and keep their mistakes away from the public eye, and failing that, would kidnap her.

Jin is a detective who drops work to find his sister, and Melchior is an investigative journalist who's been trying to expose Rotorworx's amoral programs.

By the time Nabi has been taken, Melchior has already been their captive for a while, having been caught while pursuing a lead. They befriend each other pretty quickly.

Jin runs into Wes while looking for Nabi, and discovers that he's also looking for a lost loved one. They team up. Melchior getting taken is Wes's fault, since he was cornered by Rotorworx employees and cracked under the pressure, letting it slip that Mel was planning to break into a facility.

Dr. Stevens would be a newly-hired medic who's supposed to look after the health of the subjects. She's immediately like what the fuck, but the contract has already been signed.

[ferociousqueak]

Family Resemblance, Ch. 8

A new chapter! And it didn’t take a year! Thank you, as always, to @servantofclio, @thievinghippo, and @pagerunner for their awesome beta work and endless support <3

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8

And now on FFNet!

Chapter 8: Hubris (2165)

(noun): a great or foolish amount of pride or confidence

#

Alli was dying by the time her last class got out. It wasn’t that she didn’t like galactic history, but jeez did Matriarch Aelya have to focus so much on all the boring stuff? How many stupid treaties were there, anyway?

She caught Kardi’s arm just outside the door and started to pull her down the hallway. Segundus—tall and lanky, not yet grown into his dark brown crest—caught sight of them and followed after.

“Hey, Alli,” Kardi said, looking down at her arm. “Where are we going?”

“To solve a problem,” Alli said, letting go of her once she’d fallen in step.

“Okay,” Segundus offered. “What kind of problem?”

“The kind that needs a lookout when you solve it,” Alli said, grinning up at him.

Kardi’s brow furrowed. “I have to tutor Glows with the Light of the Enkindlers in an hour. Will your problem be solved by then?”

Alli nodded, having met the hanar Kardi was tutoring and appreciating how much they needed help understanding algebra. “Oh yeah, definitely. Fifteen minutes, tops. I just need to find one of those terminals the Keepers use.”

It hadn’t taken Alli long to learn the natural current of the student body flowing through the hallways, and now she could navigate through it like she’d been doing it for years, not a handful of weeks. She turned down several halls, pushing past volus, salarians, asari, turians—even the odd human.

As a matter of course, Alli tried to stay away from the other humans. Most of them she’d known from Arcturus, and seeing them usually made her stomach do somersaults. But this school was so much bigger; there were easily three times as many students in her grade as there were in the whole school on Arcturus—primary and secondary combined. She could avoid them fairly easily if she was careful, and she had no desire to be reminded of how much they disliked her—or to prompt them to share their opinions of her with the students at this school.

Alli was much more comfortable with Kardi’s friends—with her friends. Realizing she actually had friends now was so jarring that she sometimes pinched herself—checking first to make sure no one was looking, even if they didn’t know what the gesture meant—to make sure she really wasn’t dreaming. She still half-expected they would get bored of her or come to realize what all the kids on Arcturus had realized—that she wasn’t someone you wanted to know or associate with if you could help it. So far, though, they hadn’t seemed to come to either of those conclusions, and she wasn’t about to voice her worry. Not when things actually seemed to be going well.

Alli and Segundus often studied together and fell into an easy back and forth of one-upmanship. Their strengths tended to overlap, which made the competition that much more fierce, though still friendly. She’d already gotten a better grade than him on their first test. He held his mandibles in tighter that day, and she figured that was how turians pouted. Well, he should do better next time.

Tullia, also a turian, seemed transfixed by Alli’s hair and had hardly known her a day before she’d asked timidly if she could touch it. Alli wasn’t used to that close of contact, but the laser focus on Tullia’s face made her acquiesce, hesitating at first but slowly growing used to it. By the time Alli had finished her first week, it had become routine for Tullia to take up one of her braids, undo it, and then try to braid it again. Despite the initial challenge of only having six fingers, it only took a few tries for her to get the hang of it.

Lessa, a small-framed asari with much darker blue skin than Kardi’s, was a more reserved than her other companions and would usually only talk to Alli if they were alone or the others were preoccupied in a different conversation. Her voice was soft and quiet, and she would send Alli sketches—of the Presidium, of a keeper, of the krogan statue, of just about anything—at unexpected hours, but no message came with them. She asked Kardi whether Lessa did this with anyone else, and Kardi shrugged and assured her she would get used to it.

Neirin and Cortne, a salarian and a volus who appeared to Alli to be inseparable, seemed to come into the group from time to time and disappear again just as suddenly. Kardi said they were usually holed up in the school’s chemistry lab, doing goddess knew what but at least the school was still standing.

Right now, however, she only had Segundus and Kardi to help her. It might be nice to have more than a couple lookouts, but she’d work with what she had. She led them to a Keeper nook near the school’s server room—an area far removed from any of the areas frequented by students—and peeked around the corner. Perfect. No Keeper right now.

It was funny, now that she thought of it. For as much as she’d heard about aliens hating humans, they’d been friendlier to her than anyone she’d known on Arcturus. Had Dad been wrong? No, he must’ve known something she didn’t. So why had every alien she’d met been so nice to her? It was nice having friends, so she didn’t want to question it. But why?

She brought up her ‘tool and interfaced it with the console in front of her.

“What are you doing?” Kardi whispered around the corner at her.

“Kaius was completely unfair in how he graded my essay,” Alli whispered loudly over her shoulder as she navigated her folders to find the virus she was looking for. “So I’m fixing it.”

“Fixing it?” Segundus’s head appeared around the corner, just above Kardi’s, his mandibles trembling with the question. Alli suppressed a sigh of frustration—some lookouts.

“Yes, fixing it,” Alli said. “My parents fought in the First Contact War, and my mom almost died. Like hell am I gonna call it the Relay 314 Incident.”

She didn’t have to look over her shoulder to feel Segundus and Kardi exchange glances in the beat of silence that followed.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Segundus asked, a nervous tremor in his voice.

Alli rolled her eyes but kept her attention on the progress of the program she was uploading to hack into her teacher’s grade book. “Of course I am,” she said, trying to suppress her annoyance. “I refuse to let my grade suffer just because Kaius can’t get his head out of his cloaca.”

“But don’t you think he’ll notice?” he asked. “What if he catches you? Won’t you get in trouble?”

The program chimed to announce successful access to the grading book. “There,” Alli said, grinning. “Why would he notice? He’s done with that assignment, so there’s no reason to go back and check it. I’ll be fine.”

She turned and rounded the corner again to face her friends, neither of whom seemed keen on moving. Segundus shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His brow plates shifted down and his mandibles twitched in that way that said he was debating whether to say what was on his mind. “But, if he does catch you, not that he will, but if he does . . . Alli you could get kicked out of school. Is it really worth it?”

Alli paused and glanced back toward the console. She hadn’t considered that. On the outside chance she did get caught—maybe not tomorrow or the next day, but maybe toward the end of the term—where would she go? Would she have to go an Alliance school again? Dad might be happy about that because she wouldn’t be around so many aliens all the time, but she could already see Mom’s disappointed face.

Kardi crossed her arms and looked disapprovingly at Alli. “Did you at least try talking to Kaius first?”

Alli’s cheeks felt hot and she pulled at her braid, looking at her fingers as they twirled the end instead of at her friends. “Well, no, but I thought he’d . . . My dad said turians are . . .” She glanced quickly at Segundus and her blush burned hotter. “I . . . I hadn’t thought about that. I’ll, uh, I’ll leave my grade.”

She turned back toward the console, and in a few swipes, killed the hack. She faced her friends again, her blush starting to subside, and grinned sheepishly. “You’re right,” she said. “I’ll try talking to him tomorrow. I’m sure he’ll be reasonable.”

Segundus seemed to relax and Kardi’s expression softened. “It’s okay, Alli,” she said and put an arm around her shoulders as she led them back the way they’d come. “I know things were different on Arcturus. My mom says new races can go through a bit of—what did she call it?—culture shock when they first come to the Citadel. You’ll be okay. You just need to get used to things here.”

Alli felt her own shoulders relax. How could she have thought that hacking into Kaius’s grade book was a good idea? She wasn’t on Arcturus anymore; she would have to try to do things the way everyone did them here. But now she looked like a cheater. Would Kardi and everyone else start to reconsider being friends with her? Alli’s heart began to race at the thought. She would have to try harder if she didn’t want to end up an outcast again.

The halls were now practically empty; apparently, the enthusiasm to rush home at the end of the day wasn’t species-specific. It hadn’t been more than fifteen minutes since the final bell had rung, but you wouldn’t think so to look at the abandoned halls. Perhaps that’s why it was more surprising when the three of them turned again and nearly ran into a student leaving the administrative office. Alli stumbled back several steps, still caught in Kardi’s arm and registering the student as human.

“Shepard?” His voice was incredulous, and the sound of it sent electricity racing down Alli’s spine.

“Gerald,” she said flatly, meeting his icy stare.

He stood a full head taller than her. Pale skin, sandy blond hair, dark brown eyes—he’d been a favorite among many of the girls on Arcturus, but the sight of him only turned Alli’s stomach.

Gerald rocked back on his heel and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, don’t you look just chummy with aliens,” he said with a sneer curling his upper lip. “Figures.”

He didn’t go into more detail about what he figured, but she could tell he was trying to bait her. She ground her teeth and refused take it—that would only make things worse. Instead, she stepped out from under Kardi’s arm and brushed quickly past Gerald, in no mood to spare any more words for him. He followed after her. Figures.

“I almost forgot your mom was on Einstein too,” he said at her elbow. “No idea what she did to get an assignment like that. Or who.” Alli curled her fists and felt the heat rise in her cheeks—though not from embarrassment this time—but kept walking. “It’s so good to see a familiar face here. We’ll be best friends, I’m sure of it.”

Segundus appeared at Alli’s other side, and she felt Kardi’s reassuring grip on her shoulder.

“Alli, who’s this?” Segundus asked, and she could hear an edge in his tone. She hadn’t told them about Gerald; she’d hoped when she hadn’t seen him at the school that she was finally done with him. She wanted to forget all about him.

“No one,” she snapped. She kept her glare fixed firmly in front of her. She wouldn’t look at him. “Go away, Gerald.”

But he didn’t go away. “My dad was on meritorious leave when Einstein docked here. He stopped a transport of slaves practically by himself. So I’ve been on Earth with him for the last few weeks. Now he’s back on duty, so here I am. I guess you wouldn’t know what that’s like, though. Your dad’s never done anything meritorious.”

Alli felt the hairs on her arms stand up as the now-familiar tingling started to heat her skin. Kardi gripped her harder and pressed her fingertips into her shoulder in the sequence of the maneuver she knew was supposed to quell her corona. “Alli,” she said, her voice flat and full of warning that didn’t need any more words.

Alli appreciated the reminder, but it wasn’t necessary—she wouldn’t let Gerald get to her, she wouldn’t. She clenched her jaw and kept walking, not looking at him. “I’m not doing anything to you, Gerald. Go away.”

He laughed and walked a little faster until he was in front of her, putting a hand on her chest to stop her—a glacier seemed to settle in her gut. “Come on now, I’m just trying to have a friendly chat,” he said, his hot breath near enough she could smell the milk souring in his mouth.

Segundus stepped forward and tried to position himself between Gerald and Alli. “You’re making her upset. Stop.”

Gerald sneered at Segundus and pushed him aside with the back of his hand—Alli only distantly registered Kardi’s excuse me and Segundus’s low growl—keeping his attention on Alli. “So what, Shepard? No humans want to be your friend, so you start hanging out with turians of all things? Did you promise to be his pet or something?” Alli felt Segundus bristle beside her but she put up a hand to stop him from doing anything. “You know, I think my dad was wrong about you. You’re more like your mom. Bowing to aliens, licking their boots. I mean, your dad might be a psycho, but at least he’s got stand—”

Alli’s fist connected with Gerald’s jaw before she was even aware of the impulse. She’d heard her dad talk about seeing red in a fight, but that’s not what she saw. No, she saw blue. It flickered and licked at her eyes, her arms, her fists like fire. The blue coursed over her skin, humming and pulsing and amplifying her fury tenfold. She wanted to punch Gerald again. And again. And again as many times as it took for him to stop talking, stop following her everywhere she went.

Gerald was on the floor, holding his jaw and looking terrified, when Alli felt a three-fingered hand on her chest and another holding her arm back from striking another blow. She didn’t even get to feel any kind of satisfaction before terror flooded her.

“You’re—you’re a biotic!” Gerald shouted, pointing at her as he scuttled backward one-handed on the ground. “I knew it! You really are one of those freaks!”

Kardi had stepped in between Alli and Gerald and flared her corona. “How stupid can you be?” she spat at him. “Of course I’m a biotic, you idiot. All asari are!”

Alli felt ice run through her veins and turned in the direction Segundus pushed her. What had she done? She walked quickly down the hall, hearing only distantly as Kardi argued with Gerald, who insisted he knew what he’d seen. Segundus kept his hand on her back and matched her strides easily.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I . . . I don’t know—”

“I’d have done the same thing,” Segundus said, a low growl on the edge of his voice. Alli stole a glance at him and saw his mandibles twitching in agitation and his brow plates turned down. “I’m guessing the two of you didn’t get along on Arcturus?”

She bit her lip and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, the tears forming behind her eyes. “He’s gonna tell his dad I’m a biotic, and then his dad’s gonna tell the Alliance. They’re gonna send me to BAaT, I know it.”

“Kardi can talk circles around anyone. She could probably convince him he’s a turian if she tried. He won’t say anything,” he said and stopped walking.

Alli realized they’d arrived at a rapid transit just outside the school. She hadn’t been paying attention to where they’d been walking.

“Go home, Alli. Kardi and I will take care of Gerald.” He flicked his mandibles in a strained smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I might even let you beat me at calc to help you feel better.”

Alli laughed weakly and sat heavily into the car. Home wasn’t far away, but she really didn’t feel like walking even that short distance. What am I going to do, she thought, panic already boiling in the back of her mind. If Gerald told his dad, that was it for her. He could have her sent away—far away from Mom, from Dad, from all her new friends. Of course. Right when she was just starting to get used to this place—just starting to look forward to seeing friends, to having friends.

The rapid transit stopped in front of her home and opened the door. She hesitated a moment, flexing her fist and shaking it out. It had only been one punch, but her knuckles were red and the skin burned. How was she going to explain all this to Mom?

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Don’t panic, she told herself. Just be cool. After taking another deep breath, she opened her eyes and stepped out of the rapid transit. The door loomed ominously in front of her, daring her to walk inside and face the consequences of her actions. She lingered only a few moments, then took a deep breath and walked inside. As quietly as she could manage, she slipped her shoes off by the door and hung her bag on its hook. Maybe Mom wasn’t—

No. Mom was home. She was sitting at the dining room table, her elbows on the table and hunched over something. She looked . . . distressed. What was she reading that she found so upsetting?

“No,” Mom said quietly. “No, this can’t be what it looks like.”

Oh no. Had Gerald already told his dad? Was she already talking to his father?

“I didn’t read the report, but it’s unlikely that what they found is inaccurate.”

Alli couldn’t see Ms. Dess from where she stood, but she recognized her voice. That was weird. Alli couldn’t remember either Mom or Ms. Dess being here this early before. When did they get here?

Mom shook her head. “No, I know. I just mean there has to be an explanation. Something not obvious. This is . . . it can’t be . . .” Ms. Dess hummed but didn’t say anything else. “I have to talk to Drescher about this. She owes me. I don’t care if it’s classified, if anyone can shed some light on this, it’s her.”

Alli stepped quietly around the corner and said, “Mom?”

Mom jumped in her seat and put a hand on her chest. She looked pale, almost sick. “Alli!” she almost shouted, her voice high. “You startled me.”

Alli looked down at the table, where a blue envelope and a pile of papers—real sheets of paper, not datapads—was spread out in front of Mom. Alli glanced across the table, where Ms. Dess seemed to sit impassively, but Alli could tell she’d gone tense as well from how her mandibles pressed tightly to her jaw.

“Is everything okay?” Alli asked, looking from Mom to Ms. Dess.

Mom exchanged a look with Ms. Dess and seemed to ask a silent question. Ms. Dess nodded, and Mom began to gather up the papers and shove them back into their envelope.

“I have to go,” Mom said as she sealed the blue flap. “I have to go to Arcturus for a meeting.” Mom took the stairs two at a time and disappeared into her bedroom. Her voice was smaller, but it traveled as she said, “You’ll stay with Ms. Dess and Ms. Sana until I get back. I should be home in a few days.”

Alli looked at Ms. Dess and cocked her head, not knowing exactly what question she wanted to ask. Ms. Dess, however, wouldn’t make eye contact and instead passed her hand over the top of her crest. Alli heard the slide of the closet, and if she had to guess, it was Mom pulling out her travel bag to pack it.

“It’s nothing to worry about, starshine,” she said, still in her bedroom, her voice unusually high and reassuring. “Just a little last-minute meeting with Admiral Drescher for a, uh, research project.”

Alli frowned. She hated it when Mom lied—she wasn’t even good at it. Alli kept her voice low as she asked Ms. Dess, “Is Mom okay?”

“She says she is,” Ms. Dess said, but the shake of her head and the shrug of her shoulders told a different story.

The fight with Gerald seemed so far away now, and only the throb in Alli’s hand reminded her how fresh it really was. Should she tell Mom now or wait for her to get back? She certainly didn’t want her to find out from Gerald’s dad. She opened her mouth to ask why Mom was so upset, but then Mom was already coming down the stairs.

“There’s some food in the fridge and the pantry,” Mom said. “Pack as much of it as you’ll need, and I’ll deal with the rest when I get back. I have to be on the first transport shuttle out of here and it leaves in,” she brought up her ‘tool’s interface, swiped a few times and sighed. “Twenty minutes.”

Mom walked past Alli toward the door, barely stopping to kiss the top of her hair.

“But what if Dad comes back?” Alli asked.

Mom froze in front of the door, her hand hovering above the glowing green access panel.

“Call me,” she said and the door opened then closed behind her retreating figure.

Alli turned back toward Ms. Dess, fear freezing its way through her veins. Both her parents had been deployed at the same time before, but this felt different. “What’s going on? Why was she in such a hurry to leave? Why couldn’t she just call Drescher?”

Ms. Dess finally met her gaze again. “I wish I could tell you, Alli, but even I don’t know. Those were classified . . . research papers. I don’t know what they said to make her so worked up. Your mom is the only one who knows what she’s talking about.” Her gaze shifted downward and settled on Alli’s hands. She frowned and said, “Alli, what’s wrong with your fingers? They’re pinker than normal.”

Alli glanced down at her hand and sighed. “I got in a fight,” she admitted, defeated.

Ms. Dess’s brow plates drew down in disapproval, but she didn’t say anything for a long moment. Finally, she sighed and asked, “Are you all right?”

Alli didn’t know how to answer that question.

#

It wasn’t Michael’s fault.

Fucking Geneva. What a goddamn mess.

He’d done everything he was supposed to do to get Greenwood and her team onto the ship undetected. It was some fucking new guy with an itchy trigger finger who got them into a firefight with every goddamn Alliance soldier posted to the ship. Even with Michael deliberately missing every shot, Greenwood’s team ended up with four fatalities. She and the only other surviving member of her squad were taken into custody.

Then they found Michael’s access codes and the virus that hadn’t had enough time to self-destruct, and he was taken into custody too. Just. Like. He. Fucking. Said.

Fucking goddammit.

There was a lawyer already waiting for him when they arrived on Arcturus, and he seemed confident that he could get Michael off with very little trouble.

“These raiders obviously stole your access codes, Major,” the lawyer, Mr. White, said as he scrolled through the list of charges and evidence. He was tall, blond, and utterly forgettable. No scars or marks marred his skin, he was good looking but not remarkably so, and he exuded calmness. Michael couldn’t help admiring how effortlessly this person was able to achieve the kind of infiltration look that spies and spec ops soldiers often worked for years to perfect.

“You’re the victim here,” White continued, “and there’s no reason a highly esteemed N7 operative like yourself should be railroaded like this.”

Michael stared at the lawyer for a long moment, unsure of whether he actually believed what he said or if he was already working on building reasonable doubt—he didn’t know much about the law, but he knew the prosecution would have to build up that much. He shrugged and leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. As long as he didn’t get nailed to the wall for this shit, it didn’t matter.

“How long do you think it’ll take to sort everything out? JAG was pretty quick to send you. Should I take that as a good sign?” Michael asked.

White kept his eyes on the datapad in front of him and shook his head. “The Judge Advocate General didn’t send me, Major Shepard. My employer is a friend of yours who wishes to remain anonymous. He’s very interested in making sure an innocent man like you isn’t punished for other people’s misdeeds. We expect to have this misunderstanding cleared up as quickly as possible. Your grand jury is scheduled for a week from today.”

Michael breathed a sigh of relief. He knew he wouldn’t be forgotten. “That seems . . . fast.”

White nodded and turned off the datapad’s display as he looked up at Michael for the first time since he’d sat down. “It is. We see no reason you should languish under house arrest while an interminable investigation into these trumped up treason charges goes on for weeks or months. In the meantime, make yourself comfortable. Call your loved ones. Let them know there’s been a misunderstanding that you need to address but that you’ll be home soon.”

Han. Shit! He’d been so focused on what was immediately in front of him that he hadn’t considered her at all.

“Yeah,” Michael said, dreading that particular conversation already. “I’ll do that.”

White stood and left without so much as a goodbye, and Michael leaned forward again, rubbing his hands through his hair. What was he going to tell Han? This White person could probably get a grand jury to believe he hadn’t done what he did and dismiss the case, but would Han believe it? He’d made so many pains to convince her he wanted things to work between them, and she seemed to believe. Hell, she’d practically eaten it up. Not that he was lying—he really did want things to work out. He was sure she’d believe anything she told him now too. She was in his corner, no matter what.

He was going to have to steer clear of these people after this mess got cleaned up. Maybe one day when he wasn’t under so much scrutiny, he’d be able to go back to helping their efforts. If that day ever came, that is. Who knew how long he’d have to keep his nose clean for?

He stood and started pacing his room. It wasn’t a cell, not exactly. He had a decent-sized bed, a bathroom, a small table and a couple of chairs, and the room to himself. But just on the other side of the door stood a guard who would make sure he didn’t leave. It was better than what he’d gotten after the incident with those batarian slavers, so he took that as a sign the evidence wasn’t exactly conclusive yet.

He paced the room, his mind reeling over what he was going to tell Han. Maybe if he slept on it, he would have a clearer head and know what to say? So he did.

For three nights he slept on it, pacing his small space during the day and tossing and turning in his bed at night. This was serious, and he had no idea how he was going to explain himself to Hannah. The Alliance was easy. Han? Not so much.

On his fourth day in custody—a brutally boring, interminable time he spend exercising and shifting between novels he couldn’t focus on—he took a deep breath and decided a text was the best option. He was supposed to be home by now anyway. She must be worried sick.

//MS: Geneva mission got complicated. Tell Alli I’m tied up on Arcturus working out details. Be home soon.

He watched the blinking cursor for a good fifteen minutes before sending the message. When he finally stopped agonizing and sent the message, he laid down on his bed and covered his face with a pillow. If he was lucky—and he was usually lucky—Han would take the two short sentences at face value. He hadn’t lied, after all. It’s not like she could accuse him on that front. His ‘tool beeped.

//HS: Good to know.

What was that supposed to mean? He closed the interface and took a deep breath. It didn’t mean anything. There was no way she could know about what had happened. She was just glad he had checked in with her after being so late coming home. It happened with spec ops soldiers. Sometimes timelines didn’t work out. Han knew that. Of course she did. He had nothing to worry about from her.

He started rehearsing what he’d tell Hannah about why he’d been delayed in coming home. He wasn’t comfortable with a direct lie, but he couldn’t tell her the truth either. But he would have to tell her something. Maybe if he framed everything through White’s words? Technically, that wouldn’t be a lie.

Two days before his grand jury, and one day after he’d messaged Han—fuck he was going out of his mind with boredom—his door hissed open, and he assumed it was White coming to break up the monotony and work out any last kinks in his story. Maybe they could cast enough doubt on the prosecution that the charges would be dropped and he’d never have to go to trial at all.

But it definitely wasn’t White at his door.

“Thank you,” Hannah said to the guard. “I won’t be long.”

Michael’s stomach dropped. He wanted to do something, say something, anything. But he was frozen, dumbfounded, in place as Hannah walked calmly to the table and sat where White had been only days ago. Why was she here? How did she know where to find him?

She pulled up her sleeve and removed her ‘tool from her wrist.

No. Not her ‘tool. His ‘tool. The black stripe down the side of it was unmistakable.

“Han—”

She held up a hand to stop him and said, “You’ve made me an accessory after the fact.”

Not plaintive. Not angry. But even, like she was remarking on the weather. The coolness of her tone sent a chill down his spine, and he swallowed hard. Where the hell had she found that ‘tool? And how had she found out what was on it? He’d deleted everything the last time he used it. The thought came to mind that she wouldn’t be an accessory if she’d left well enough alone, but he didn’t dare speak those words. Not with the way she sat as serenely, as calmly as the eye of a hurricane at the table with her hands clasped loosely together in her lap. God, why did she have to be so curious? Couldn’t she just have thought he was having an affair like a normal person and let him dispel that doubt? Why did she have to go digging around? And who was helping her? Who else knew what he’d been doing?

“Han, this isn’t what it looks like,” he said and took the seat across from her. How was he going to explain this? He didn’t know how he was going to explain it, but he had to say something that would get her on his side again. He’d think of something.

“It’s funny,” she continued as if he hadn’t said anything. “I didn’t know about the Geneva incident when I arrived on the station. I came here with the intention of going to Drescher to call in a favor and ask her for your sealed records because I needed to know for sure why you would be trafficking classified weapons research. I came here because I wanted to give you the chance to give me a reason that wasn’t what any of this looks like.” She said the words pointedly and pinned him to his chair with her stare. Her brow furrowed and her lips pursed—yeah, she was angry. Angrier than he’d ever seen her. “Then you told me about Geneva. And the admiral had a lot to say about that little incident.”

Hannah leaned forward and put her hands on the table. “You brought these people into our lives, Michael. You brought dangerous people into our daughter’s life, and as long as you associate with them, she’s at risk. She deserves so much better than that.” To his surprise, her shoulders slumped, and she let her head fall forward into her hands as she rested her elbows on the table. “I deserve better than that,” she said, defeated and almost too quiet to hear.

The impulse to put his arms around her was strong, but he resisted—there was no way Han would want him touching her right now.

She looked up, meeting his gaze again—the anger was gone, but it was replaced by something more . . . upsetting, unnerving. No tears betrayed her, but her eyes glistened and her brow furrowed. “Did you ever think of me in all of this?” she said, her voice breaking.

“Han, please let me explain—” he started but she waved away his words and leaned back again.

“Even if you did say something true at this point, I wouldn’t believe it,” she said.

She took up the ‘tool, and in one fluid motion, she ripped away the black strip, much to Michael’s surprise. She cleared her throat and said, “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to plead no contest to the charges. You’re going to serve your time. You’re going to tell the authorities everything you both know and think about who you worked for when you let those bastards on Geneva, which should get you a reduced sentence.” She stood again and made her way toward the door. “I won’t tell anyone about the arms trafficking, but that’s the only favor I’ll do for you. A big one, if you ask me. When these people are out of your life, I’ll consider letting you back into Alli’s.” She paused. “You’ll hear from my lawyer in the next week or so.” She hesitated with her hand raised to knock on the door. She turned toward him and said quietly, “Please, Michael.”

He wanted to go after her. He wanted to protest, to tell her she had everything wrong. He was protecting their family, not putting them in danger. But a lead weight kept him in place.

Michael sat rooted to his chair for a long time after she left. Was any of this really happening? If she’d let him say anything at all, he would’ve been able to explain himself and the people he worked with. He could explain that, yes, they might be dangerous, but not to humans. Or if they ever were, it was only in self-defense or in service to the greater good of protecting more people. They wouldn’t have hurt anyone on Geneva if the plan had worked out. He wasn’t putting Alli in danger—the opposite, in fact. He was making sure the galaxy was safer for her, and these people were doing the same.

But he knew Han wouldn’t hear any of that.

“They’re gun runners, Michael,” he knew she’d say. “Who do you think they are?”

A fair point. But still. She didn’t understand. She wouldn’t understand.

What would happen if he didn’t do what she said? What if he got the charges dropped and also promised not to pass along classified documents anymore? Couldn’t they compromise? Why did he have to go to prison? Out of some kind of misguided principle?

Han’s ultimatum rang in his ears, and he felt like he was going to be sick. There would be no compromise; he knew that already. He was going to have to spend a significant part of his future in prison, and he was going to have to face Alli from behind a glass wall several inches thick. She would believe the things she was going to hear about him. She was going to look at him like a convict, like a traitor to the Alliance, and he was going to have to live with that somehow. Because the alternative that was that he would never see her again at all. Han hadn’t said it like that, but she’d been abundantly clear.

Han. She was sending her lawyer to him. So she was . . .

Fuck.

His thoughts chased each other for hours. The guard came in once with his dinner—which he didn’t touch—and then again to take away the tray. At lights out, he lay in his bed, but his eyes refused to close. Han’s face filled his mind, and he couldn’t shake the look of betrayal he’d seen there. What if he’d told her about Cerberus and everything he’d done for them before the Geneva incident went FUBAR? Would she have been more understanding? Would she be putting him in this position now? Would she be on his side? He scrubbed his palms over his face and forced his eyes to close. Those questions were useless and their answers didn’t matter because they didn’t change anything about his current predicament.

There was no getting around it. Han won. He’d do everything she asked of him. If there was a way to get her to look at him with . . . anything but that angry, devastated look, this was it. She wanted him to go to prison—to serve his time, as she’d said—and he would. Not happily, but obediently. Maybe then she’d reconsider . . .

Michael felt himself drift, but sleep eluded him for what seemed like endless hours. When the lights in his room flickered on, he gave up. He got up, cleaned up, and asked the guard to call his lawyer. By 0800, White was seated across the small table from Michael once again.

He sat passively as Michael explained his decision. When Michael finally finished, White said simply, “No.”

Michael groaned in annoyance. “I want a different lawyer. I’ll take whoever JAG assigns me. Hell, I’ll represent myself if I have to. This is my decision. Not yours. Not our mutual friend’s. Mine.”

White’s stillness was unsettling, but he persisted. “No. Major Shepard, your intentions are admirable, but unfortunately, you will not be allowed to serve a prison sentence, let alone reduce it by divulging such private information. Furthermore, our friend still considers you a valuable asset. He would much prefer to continue your relationship. He has authorized me to present you with an alternative option.”

Michael shook his head. “An alternative option?” Then realization dawned on him, and he knew that none of what he’d said was new information to White. “How can he have an alternative option?”

“I bugged your room when I was here,” White said dispassionately. “I can imagine that fact is not a pleasing one, but it’s standard practice for detained operatives, nothing personal. Our friend has considered Commander Hannah Shepard’s offer and would like to make a counteroffer.”

The impulse to pummel White into a bloody mass was strong, but Michael tamped it down. “Talk fast,” he said, grinding his jaw.

“Your colleague Greenwood’s exit strategy has been set in motion. In a week, she’ll be transferred to Vancouver to be held there; however, there will be an accident, and there will be no body.”

“You’re going to kill her? After everything she’s done for . . . our mutual friend?” Michael felt himself shaking with anger. He didn’t particularly like Greenwood, but she was a good soldier and committed to humanity’s welfare. She didn’t deserve to be dispatched so callously.

White nodded once. “In a sense. In one week, Bethany Greenwood will be declared dead. The following day, the world will meet Caroline Meyerhoff. Caroline has an extra seat on her shuttle registered to Gabriel O’Connor.” White paused before continuing. “Will Mr. O’Connor make his flight?”

Michael huffed. “What about the other guy? The one who fucked up everything to begin with. Give him that seat.”

White returned his glance to his datapad. “Mr. Ames has been reassigned. My employer believes he will be more useful serving his sentence. His particular skillset—or lack thereof—is more useful inside a prison than outside of it.”

Michael paused to let himself think about what exactly someone like Ames would be assigned to do on the inside. He’d guessed there were more of these people around than there appeared to be—to engage the batarians on the scale they had, they’d need quite a few people on the inside feeding them information and resources—but only now was he starting to understand exactly how many of them there were. He leaned forward and said, “Let’s just say I don’t take this . . . exit strategy. What happens then?”

White gave no pause before giving his answer. “My employer will assume you no longer wish to continue your friendship. He will maneuver to preserve his existing assets accordingly.”

Michael pushed back his chair and started to pace, his hands on his hips. “So, I go with you or you kill me. That’s what you’re telling me?”

White shook his head. “Those are your words, Major. I’ve said no such thing.”

Michael snorted. This manipulation was leaving a bad taste in his mouth. “Yeah, right. You’ve said nothing at all.” A thought came to him that sent a chill down his spine. Had Han been right? “What happens to my family? If I don’t go with you.”

White folded his hands on the table and said, “The commander’s resolution to reveal our friend’s operations poses a problem. We prefer to deal with problems before they progress.”

Michael rounded on him, pulling him from his chair and slamming him against the wall. The only thing stopping him from snapping this fucker’s neck right now was the guard standing on the other side of the door. White seemed to know this and hardly reacted to Michael’s sudden outburst of violence at all.

“However,” he continued patiently, “she also appears to be largely ignorant of who our friend is and what he’s trying to accomplish with his operation. The less she knows, the better, wouldn’t you say, Major? It seems then that you offering more information would only create more problems for her. Well, only one more problem, specifically.”

Han’s words came ringing back to him. She’d been right: he’d brought these people into her life. All the anger went out of him, replaced by resignation and nausea. He dropped White and backed away.

“What do you need me to do?”