Lysander was torn; he wanted more than anything to run into the arms of what he could only assume would be his saviors, but living under Shamul’s regime had been difficult on his mind. He and the other ‘Pets’ were constantly given chances to run, windows of opportunity to escape, only to be hunted down like animals, and punished harshly when returned to their ‘owners’. Freedom always seemed so close, but whenever he would reach to touch it, Lysander was burned.
His instincts did battle with one another as Anderson heaved himself to his feet, only to drop what looked like a hat. As he leaned down to grab it, Lysander was snapped back into the present and a small squawk escaped his mouth. He watched, paralyzed with fear as Anderson dropped to his knees and peered under the bed. “What the-? Hernandez!” Anderson caught a flashlight and shined it under the bed, illuminating the terrified boy. “The boy! The one from the pictures! He’s here!” Anderson called.
The bed was suddenly flipped on its side, and Lysander was fully exposed. Blood rushing past his ears deafened Lysander as he sprang to his feet and cowered against the wall. The man called Anderson was an older black man, smaller than some of the men, taller than others, all the while maintaining an aura of command. He was obviously the man in charge of the operation. Anderson raised his hands slowly, picking up on Lysander’s terror, “Easy, son… No one here is going to hurt you; we’re from the Alliance, heard of them?” Lysander scratched at the wall at his back, wishing he could phase through, all the while he kept his eyes on the floor, averted from the men surrounding him. “
We work with the human government; we came here to get rid of the batarian pirates.” Lysander gasped at that and looked at the man called Anderson. “You-you came here t-t-to…” He lowered his head in a new wave of self-loathing, living with the emotional and mentally torturous ‘masters’ had given rise to a terrible stutter. He gritted his teeth, squared his shoulders, and tried again. “Y-You came here to h-help us?” He croaked, feeling vaguely proud of himself. Anderson smiled, Lysander wanted to look away, knowing it would turn into a lecherous one before long, but made himself maintain eye contact. “That’s right, son.” He waved a hand around at the group of men and women forming the semi-circle that faced him. “I and this fine group of individuals are here to help you.” The people in the formation smiled good natured smiles or sounded positive remarks. Lysander allowed a tiny grin in return. Anderson spoke again, “What’s your name, son?”
“L-Lysander…”
“Got a last name, Lysander?”
“S-S-Shepard, L-Lysander S-Shepard…”
“Where did they steal you from, Lysander Shepard?”
“M-Mindoir…”
A soft cry broke out among the ranks of soldiers and Anderson’s face turned stoic. “I saw the aftermath of Mindoir… You survived that hell?” Lysander nodded, suddenly feeling hopeful. “Th-There’re others! Other s-survivors! If you h-hurry… Why are you shaking your head?” Anderson’s gaze was heavy with remorse. “When we took this vessel… The batarians panicked or got angry. The scared ones gave the nozzles of their guns a kiss, the angry ones…” He shook his head, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry, Lysander… The angry ones decided we couldn’t free dead slaves.” Lysander felt as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice cold water on him. He slid to the floor, his gaze blurring. “S-So they’re all…?” “Dead. I am so sorry, Lysander…” A crazy giggle escaped Lysander’s mouth, causing Anderson and his soldiers to look alarmed. “They w-were freed in the end…” His pulled his knees to his chest as hot tears rolled down his face. “My name is David Anderson, and I would like to come over to where you are, if that’s alright, Lysander.” Lysander’s rising hope and courage flickered. He looked down at his feet, “Err…” Anderson seemed to understand and raised his hands again.
“No need to worry, son, I promise none of us will do anything to you.” The boy slowly lifted his gaze back to the man standing patiently with his arms above his head. “Umm… I d-don’t… W-Well… Okay… Just um… D-Do one thing for me?” Anderson nodded, still smiling, “What’s that, son?” Lysander felt a mad giggle catch in his throat, which he promptly clubbed to death before continuing. The last thing he needed was these people thinking him insane.
“P-P-P-Put your h-hands down? I d-don’t have a g-gun.”
The soldiers laughed at that, Lysander found he was laughing with them, pushing back the fear that always followed a joke at the expense of someone bigger than him. Anderson chuckled and lowered his hands, “Point taken! Alright, here I come.” Anderson slowly stepped forward and stopped a yard away from Lysander and reached out a hand. “This is a sinking ship, son, what’s say you and I get out before we down with it?” Lysander broke into a full blown smile and cautiously took the outstretched hand. “Y-Yes sir.” Anderson nodded and gestured to the soldiers around them.
“Form up and move out!”