Bluefire31's second attempt

Slavery was one of the many things batarians were universally known for. An entire cast was dedicated to it, and many people despised the entire race for the practice, despite never actually seeing it in action. In truth, while some crews may treat their cargo as nothing more than cattle, others treated them as living, breathing people who happened to have value on their homeworld. One such ship, headed by a young batarian couple, had been known as one of the more fair slavery rings in the cultural circle. The couple, already having a young boy, tried for a young girl. They succeeded, finding out after a routine colony job. The news was wonderful but worrying, particularly because the mother was worried about her work in the eezo mines early in the year. Regardless, it seemed as if the pillars had blessed them when a wonderful baby girl’s cries rang throughout the ship for the first time.

The two children grew within the large slave ship. Her brother was larger, more intimidating, and favored by their father. Not because his daughter was weak, but because he was going to take over the ship in his absence.  Her mother, in turn, favored  her daughter all she knew to the young thing, mostly about the great batarian bloodline they had. “All slavers” the woman boasted, gently cradling her daughter once, “all of them fair and orderly, most importantly, loyal to their homeworld.”

Nothing about this homeworld had any meaning to her. It was more like a second-hand love, affection implanted in her young mind by her mother and father of a world she had never seen. The system they explained, the people, the costums, the dresses, the culture, all of it seemed so distant to the young girl. The only thing she knew were true were the slaves, her crew’s work, and the question of her future. Her brother, six years older than her, six years wiser, and her father’s “heir” to inherit the ship, already had a bright future. She had little set in stone for her future, almost nothing was perfected for her besides the slave trade. Instead, she perfected miscellaneous arts around the ship. Cooking here, maintenance, armor maintenance along with gun keeping.


Lessons were learned within the ship, what the girl was good at, what she was bad at, and what she liked. She liked rifles, but didn’t like shotguns. She liked learning things about her omni-tool, weapons, and armor, didn’t care for science or math. Liked psychology and sociology, didn’t like nor learned any history aside from stories from her mother.

Regardless, she was taught to shoot and fight, keep the slaves in line and, eventually, to scout out for places that the slavery ship would move on to take over. Her life was fine, unexciting besides the occasional raid, but fine, until she felt a certain longing in her gut. The curiosity that often stirred within when she saw a far away ship that she could never visit or pictures of the homeworld she had never been too. The feeling so powerful, so nagging, that one day she simply called in for a scouting trip and. . .  never looked back. With a rifle at her back and biotics in her bones, she was free it was intoxicating, and she could now see why slaves wanted it so badly. Now she had her own, and she sure as the pillars wouldn’t return to the slave ship so soon.