Parallel Lives is a crossover AU (Dragon Age:Origins characters in a Mass Effect setting) that has spiraled into a major series. Six Glimpses introduces the six "Wardens" (one from each origin) and their place in the galaxy circa early ME2.
“I’ve found us a target.”
Natia Brosca sighed with relief at her lieutenant’s pronouncement and let her datapad plop down onto her desk. The files she’d been reading through for the past two hours were a mixture of tedious and nauseating, and she welcomed the interruption. The promise of impending action was even more welcome. “What’ve you got?”
She looked up as Anders dropped into his usual chair, all lanky grace and restrained energy. “Batarian slavers.”
Natia waved her hand in a “get on with it” motion, waiting for him to say something relevant.
“They take children.”
Natia rolled her eyes, reaching for her datapad. “Them and everyone else. Young means malleable and profitable. It sucks for the kids, but that isn’t our problem. Dammit, Anders, we can’t stop every injustice in the God-damned galaxy.” She thumbed her pad back on to start reading the next file. “Get the hell out of here and quit wasting my time.”
“Biotic children,” Anders clarified. “Natia, they take requests!” He keyed a sequence into his omnitool, fingers jabbing violently, and a new window popped up on Natia’s datapad, superseding the file she’d been reading.
It looked almost like a classified ad or a list of technical specs for bespoke ship design. But the content was far more sinister. Natia’s lip curled into a snarl as she read. It was a request for a young biotic. Untrained but with a high power projection. Female only, species irrelevant. Natia looked up when she finished, staring intently at Anders. “Screw the slavers. I want the buyer.”
He shook his head, having already anticipated her request. “They covered their tracks. All I could find was a shell corporation. Asha Bellanar, registered out of Illium. Could be asari, but who the hell knows with that place?” He slammed a hand down on her desk, leaning forward. “That’s why we go after the slavers. Disrupt the supply and get their client list. This Asha Bellanar and every other sick bastard that’s buying biotic children as pets and lab rats.”
Natia considered it, staring at the ad still floating on her datapad, the implications burning into her mind. After a long moment, she slapped the datapad down on her desk and met Anders’s level gaze. “Do it. This needs to stop. Set up the details and make this happen.”
Anders replied with an eager grin, anticipation glinting in his eyes. “Gladly.”
Three days later, Natia watched with satisfaction as her squad wiped out the last few batarian slavers and took the leader captive. The attack went even more smoothly than she had expected.
A large part of their success was due to her group’s tactics and skill set. Other than the occasional asari, no one was really prepared to face a group of biotics using their powers to full advantage. Natia rarely bothered to plan her strikes using conventional military approaches. What was the point of cover when every member of her squad was surrounded by both a kinetic barrier and a biotic shield? Why spend time flanking the enemy’s position when they were going to unleash so many shockwaves and lifts that everyone’s original locations would become irrelevant within seconds? And who cared about marksmanship when she could crush the life out of someone with her mind? Hell, the only reason most of Natia’s team carried guns at all was to keep up their scores in “skeet”, a game that had blossomed out of one of her earthborn recruit’s habit of yelling “Pull!” every time he lifted an opponent to tumble freely through the air.
If Natia had learned one thing on Presrop, it was how much a group of organized, committed biotics could do when given the chance. The Alliance had disrupted things there, but she intended to pass the lessons on to the entire rest of the galaxy. Terminally, when necessary.
Even taking her group’s tactics and planning into account, Natia was pleasantly surprised at how well this particular assault had gone. The slaver ring had been tougher than any of the earlier targets she’d authorized her group to hit, and her people were coming out of it with only minor injuries. Most of that difference was Anders.
He was by far the most talented biotic she’d ever fought alongside, the strongest human biotic she’d ever met. Whether that was a result of his BAaT training or simply the raw power level that had brought him to the program’s attention in the first place, she couldn’t speculate. And ultimately, it didn’t matter. Anders worked for her now, and it always gave Natia a thrill to watch his biotic energy flash across the battlefield, almost electric in its intensity. With his input, the fight had been fast and brutal, just the way Natia liked it.
They had taken the group’s leader entirely by surprise, capturing him easily. Natia had held him immobilized to watch as her people finished off the rest of his group. After that, she’d kept him pinned while she persuaded him that it would be in his best interest to give her access to all of his group’s records.
By the time the batarian slaver relented and gave her the information she needed, two of his eyes were swollen shut from a biotic-enhanced slap to the side of the face, and bruises were blooming elsewhere on his stasis-restrained body. His limbs were still bound to the wall with bands of kinetic force, and Natia kept the pressure just tight enough to hurt, reminding him who was in charge.
Most people in her position would have delegated this sort of interrogation, but Natia preferred to do the work herself. There was something viscerally satisfying about using her talents to inflict damage on people who deserved it. Natia also believed there was an extra degree of humiliation for the scum they took down in being beaten up by a petite human woman using only the force of her mind. It was a potent reminder of just how powerless they were in the face of biotics like those they had marginalized and abused.
Those were the answers Natia would give if anyone ever questioned her. But that wasn’t the whole truth. She ran a finger meditatively over her cheek, feeling the familiar rough numbness of scar tissue. The real reason was that she had sworn long ago that no one would ever again make her feel helpless.
Growing up in a small human enclave on an asari world, Natia had never known life as anything but a second-class citizen. When she’d begun developing biotic powers, she’d had a fleeting thought that might change. But it had only made things worse. She quickly discovered that human biotics were of no interest to the asari higher-ups. They had sufficient talent among long-lived members of their own species that it wasn’t worth their time to train humans who couldn’t live long enough to achieve the expected levels of mastery. Among the members of her own species, Natia’s biotic gifts were seen as evidence of betrayal, siding with the asari overlords and turning her back on her fellow humans.
She’d learned the extent of their hatred at age sixteen. A group of local toughs had cornered her in a dark alley and called her a traitor to their race. They had held her down while carving an asari symbol for biotics into her face, so that no one would ever forget she was an unnatural freak. Then they had beaten her nearly to death. Natia had screamed like the scared little girl she was, trusting that someone would save her. As the endless minutes of agony ticked on, Natia accepted that despite the crowded streets nearby, no one would come. She’d been found hours later and taken for medical treatment by a complete stranger, but it was hard to feel gratitude for that half-hearted compassion she could only see as too little too late.
Later, when she’d heard about a haven for biotics on Presrop, Natia had stolen enough credits to cover transportation and hitched a shuttle without a second thought. There was no reason for her to stay. Her mother was a drunk who rarely noticed her daughter’s presence at the best of times, and her sister’s attempts at social climbing would only be improved by her absence.
It was on Presrop that Natia had learned what family really meant. Father Kyle had been good to them, had cared for all of the biotics that sought refuge in the safe community he established. He helped them learn how to use their powers, but more importantly he taught them not to be ashamed of what they were. He taught them they had the right to be accepted, valued, loved. Those were the happiest times of Natia’s life.
Then the Alliance had taken it away. Father Kyle had been arrested, and they had been evicted from their home. As they were being forced out, Natia had gathered a few of the others, the ones most willing to fight for the respect and freedoms they deserved, and formed the core of her current group. Presrop had opened her eyes to what life could be, what it should be, and she would be damned if she’d accept anything less. Natia was not going back to an existence where she tried to hide what she was for fear that the ignorant would punish her for it. And she would take down anyone and anything that stood in her way. Even the whole Alliance, if she had to. Biotic freedom was worth it.
Suddenly, Anders exploded, shocking Natia out of her reverie. Blue energy crackled around his hands and eyes as he lunged towards the batarian slaver Natia’s will held pinned. Anders’s hand clenched around the alien’s throat, and the blue glow around his eyes pulsed in time with his words. “Where’s the rest of it?”
Anders waved a datapad in front of the batarian’s two good eyes, but Natia doubted the slaver could make out any details.
Not waiting for an answer, Anders continued, pressing harder. “I asked for all of your client records. Where are the rest? Don’t try to hide them from me.”
The batarian began choking, gasping for air. Anders loosened his grip long enough for him to gasp out a denial.
“Wrong answer.” A wave of biotic energy rushed from Anders, slamming his captive against the wall so hard his teeth rattled. “Protecting them isn’t worth what we can do to you.”
“All there,” the batarian gasped, trying to shake his head. “Gave you everything.”
“Don’t lie to me!” The energy crackling off Anders was almost palpable, and Natia shivered at the thought of power he was putting off. “Biggest supplier of biotic children in the Verge, and you expect me to believe you never sold to BAaT or Ascension?”
“Never.” The slaver tried to shake his head in denial. “Alliance programs taking human children from Alliance space. They didn’t need us.”
Anders stared into his captive’s eyes for a long moment, evaluating his sincerity as the slaver continued to choke for air. Then with a harsh sob of breath, Anders released his biotic hold, allowing the alien to slide to the floor, gasping desperately and clutching at his bruised throat. Still wreathed in biotic energy and barely suppressed rage, Anders turned his back and strode from the room.
Watching, Natia smiled grimly. Anders was another step closer to accepting who their enemy ultimately was. The batarian had unwittingly done her a favor. Maybe he deserved to live after all.
Then she remembered the classified ad that had brought them on this raid, the standing order for talented young biotic girls. On second thought, maybe not.
Natia’s hand clenched into a fist, and kinetic energy began to gather around it as she took a step towards her prisoner.
When Natia returned to the shuttle, no one commented on the dark stains on her armor and boots. The crew had everything ready to lift off, and within a matter of minutes the ship was on its way back to the group’s current base of operations. That was her team’s standard procedure after hitting a target: get out before the sharks started nosing around the carcass, and Natia was proud to see they’d arranged it without any specific orders from her. Her crew was learning.
Natia waved for them to carry on and headed to her quarters to clean up. She’d never been squeamish about the process of getting covered in someone else’s blood, but she hated sitting in it afterwards. She changed into fresh clothes and started the familiar process of cleaning gore off of her armor. Repetition had made it almost meditative, and her mind wandered as her hands worked.
Anders had been conspicuously absent during take off, probably engaged in his own version of coming back down to base state from combat high. Natia had known he was powerful, but she’d never expected anything quite so explosive. The energy radiating off him when he’d thrown that slaver against the wall had been electric, magnetic, and Natia suppressed a shiver just at the memory of it. Anders was everything she’d hoped for and more. That’s why they’re afraid of us. And they should be.
But now that she knew he was capable of that kind of display, she needed to know when to expect it. Having the biotic next to you go crazy and lash out was pretty much typical, given the hell most of them had been put through, but Natia had to know what triggered it so she knew it was coming. She had to know her crew, strengths and flaws, and Anders had better not try to hold back from her. She’d seen behind the mask, and a glimpse wasn’t going to be enough.
About an hour into the trip, Anders showed up in her room - thankfully before Natia had to go looking for him.
“I need to apologize for how I acted back there.” His eyes looked slightly haunted, flicking around as if he was searching the room for an escape route.
Natia frowned and waved him in. She held her tongue, giving him one chance to explain.
“It was inappropriate. I over-reacted. I just had such hopes…” Anders sighed as he dropped into the offered seat across from her. “I should have been more honest with you about why I pushed so hard for this target.”
“Yes, you should have.” Natia had never been very good at biting her tongue until other people were done talking, and Anders hadn’t earned much patience. “We’re a team, Anders. We have to trust each other. If you can’t be honest with me, how can we work together? How can we help our people if we don’t have faith in ourselves?”
“You’re right. Of course you’re right.” Anders glanced away for a moment before facing her openly. She leaned forward, holding his eyes and refusing to let him look away again. “When I found an angle on these slavers, I thought we’d find records that tied them to BAaT, to Ascension. Something concrete, evidence that the authorities couldn’t ignore. Something to force justice for Karl, for Kaidan. For every child they’ve ripped away from family, turned into a weapon, and then deemed expendable.” Anders’s eyes were starting to flash blue as his voice rose in intensity.
Natia felt a surge of panic even as part of her wanted to smile in satisfaction. There was the trigger: childhood trauma. She could relate.
She leaned forward to take his hand, grounding him, holding him to the present so he couldn’t get lost in his past. “They took away your life. Of course you hate them. I get that. Ask any of us from Presrop about the late sainted Commander Shepard.” She spat the name out, lips twisting into a snarl at the memory of the man who had taken away her first chance at a real home.
Like a switch had been flipped, the blue energy was gone, and Anders’s eyes turned warm with concern. He squeezed her hand and tried to speak, but Natia shook her head. This wasn’t about her. She redirected him away from her pain and back to his own. “Be as angry at them as you need to be. Find us targets who deserve it. But don’t lie to me, and don’t try to hide what you feel. I need to be able to rely on you. On all of the group, but especially you.”
She gripped his hand tightly for emphasis, watching his eyes while blue swirled around the amber as his momentary control was gone. Dammit! He wasn’t hearing her; she was losing her hold. No, they had come too far for her to give in to this now. Desperate, she pushed to get through the past trauma, to hold onto a bond that would keep him present. “Anders, we all have scars, things that were done to us for being what we are. They don’t have to make you weak unless you let them. The only stupid thing is pretending that getting them didn’t hurt.”
After she finished, Anders stared at her, statue-still, and Natia tensed, waiting for a reaction. Her heart was pounding as she struggled to contain the memories and emotion, and she didn’t know how he could be so calm right now. She kept her eyes locked to his, giving him a connection, hoping she could help him regain control, even if it was by showing him he wasn’t the only one losing it. For long minutes, he didn’t move. Then suddenly he surged towards her, his hand cupping the side of her face as his mouth crashed into hers.
Natia’s thoughts froze in shock - of all his possible reactions, she’d never expected this one - but her body responded, succumbing readily to his passion and enthusiasm. Her arms came up to hold him closer, and she dove eagerly into the sensations of lips and tongue. She couldn’t recall anyone kissing her with such single-mindedness before, but it fit him, the way he threw himself into whatever he was doing at the moment - whether it be arguing for biotic rights, smiting those he considered oppressors, or, apparently, thoroughly kissing the woman he worked for.
When Anders finally pulled away, it was only far enough to breathe, resting his forehead against hers. “No one’s ever said something like…” He tilted his head away slightly, giving her a glimpse of a lopsided smile. “I’m not exactly used to feeling accepted.”
Natia felt a rush of relief at the sight of his warm amber eyes, clear and coherent. At least for now, she hadn’t lost him to his demons. She ran her thumb over the edge of that smile and across his cheek. “That’s all any of us wants: a home.”
“I think I may have finally found one.”
As Anders leaned into her touch, Natia wondered if he was talking about the biotic resistance group or her specifically. Either way, it would be good for the cause.