This is a bit of drabble I wrote after playing through "Mass Effect" after a long pause between games. I recommend it very much; being one of the most atypical fans of the game in existence (over 50 and female), because of the magnificent plot and roleplaying potential.
Disclaimer: I hold no claim to any of the characters of "Mass Effect" nor to any part of the game and franchise. I owe thanks to the principal writer, Drew Karpyshyn, and his staff of excellent writers and animators and voice actors. I make no money from these stories and bits and pieces. I'll put them back when I'm done, honest.
Damn - would they never stop, these migraines?
Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko rolled out of the rack and splashed cold water on his face quietly so he wouldn't disturb Adams, his bunkie. Maybe it was the larger, shared quarters - he wasn't used to being in official officer's country. Odd to be the fourth ranking officer in any ship, much less the finest vessel in the fleet, the Normandy. For the fist few weeks under Captain Anderson, he happily geeked and tinkered around engineering with Adams, the engineer, the nav systems folks, weapons, everything from quartermaster to cleaners while the he and the Captain assembled his squad of Marines, all with Anderson's wholehearted approval.
"We have to have an answer man," the Captain had said. "I've never seen anyone pick up on any sort of new engineering and design the way you have. You put the puzzle together for me, Alenko, you're a good man to have around." Anderson actively sought out his opinion on ship's operations and efficiency.
He'd felt downright flattered and embarrassed over the compliment, and always did his level best for the Captain. Anderson seemed to have that effect on officers and men under his command. He truly cared for them, and got to know them as people and not as mere service jackets. You'd hear him asking Pressly about his grandson, or Adams about his new nephew, or grinning and winking when Joker pulled one of his frequent (and harmless) practical jokes, even if he felt he had to slap the kid down now and then. Joker was the best pilot Alenko had ever seen, in or out of the Alliance, even with the disease that made it hell on him to get anywhere on his feet, even the head. He respected Joker, and had helped him with some computations that, if he surmised correctly, would make the huge Eezo core in the back of the shift an incredibly powerful weapon by throwing the elective mass out in front of the ship - or to any other vector, for that matter. It may not work more than once, but if it came down to it, that one time might make the difference for millions of people. The kid was brilliant, even though he seldom let it show.
By far the best thing about the Normandy, though, was the respect he received. As a biotic, and a strong one at that, he was used to being treated like a leper or some kind of nutcase. Here, he was a member of the team,and there wasn't even a hint of the names reserved for what the Alliance was now calling "trans-humans"; things like "mutant weirdo" or "menace" or less pleasant epithets. It came home to him early on during drills with the ship's Marines as their squad leader. He'd gone easy on them in the beginning, but Anderson told him to take the gloves off, since they never knew what they would face out there - wherever. So he'd given them what he had, and he'd had plenty that day. He'd flipped Corporal Jenkins arse end over teakettle while throwing him at least twenty meters. Even with the hardsuit's inertial dampeners, it was quite a fall, and Jenkins was down so long that Kaidan was terrified that he'd done Jenkins some serious injury. Then Jenkins had popped up like some possessed jack-in-the-box after regaining his breath, and you could see the ear-to-ear grin even through his helmet.
"That was AWESOME!" he yelled. Everyone had had laughed after that, slapped Jenkins and him on the back, and they'd all gone out and had a few beers. He'd had a great time, and it had been better than he'd remembered feeling for a long time - even better than at home after they'd found out what he was. He was beginning to grow attached to his crew. That was dangerous, but it was only - dare he say it - human.
And then there was Shepard.
He'd seen her stride onto the Normandy looking around keenly, intently, seemingly with delight, to see all the new gewgaws and meet all the crew, looking around to see even the spartan crew quarters. And she was amazing, incredible. It wasn't a classical beauty, but it came from within, a determination to do what was needed, to do right, to be the best. She was fierce. The rumor mill had it that she was a Spectre candidate, and when he saw her, he could see why. She may have come from next to nothing, but what she'd made of herself - he'd never met a woman like her. It was no surprise to him when she worked the deal with the Council as well as any diplomat could, and now she was in charge, the first human Spectre, and had a job to do that was as big as it got.
And him? He was a freak, but now, after some fancy and, he surmised, rather nasty political maneuvering, he was needed on a mission to save the Galaxy from machines who wanted to harvest and destroy all organic life. No pressure... just off to the infirmary for a shot of painkiller. He needed his sleep. Party time tomorrow.
It was hard to walk back into the Normandy after killing such an incredibly wise but demented Asari Matriarch... who just happened to be your mother.
Liara had held up admirably when Shepard had come to check up on her, but Kaidan had become friends with Liara over the time she'd been on the team. Their biotics were a natural topic of discussion, of course, but they'd taught each other much of each other's culture and history. She'd (not surprisingly, given her stage of life) developed a huge crush on Shepard, but he gently let her know that Shepard's romantic preference was for men. She'd thanked him gravely for the information; poor thing, the last thing she needed was more embarrassment and sorrow than she'd had already. She had taught him some meditation excercises that helped him with the migraines, and started some gears moving in his mind, but she was a good person. She was brilliant and well-read, on her own subject, the Protheans, and many others, and he'd learned quite a lot from her. Some of it had been about biotics and Protheans, but much of it had been about the Asari and Liara herself.
When he'd come into the quarters assigned to her in the lab behind sick bay, her head was on her arms, resting on the desk as though sleeping, but then she saw the tiny shudders running through her.
"Liara," he said simply, "I'm so sorry." He pulled a chair up and sat down next to her, and put a hand on her shoulder. Immediately a suspicion of his was confirmed; he was overwhelmed by a storm of sorrow, heartsickness, rage toward Saren, and the agony of the loss of her parent.
So, the Asari are true telepaths and empaths. He made the thought gentle and unafraid, as though a remark about the weather, and sensed that she was very relieved by his approach. Privately, he wondered if anyone had ever seen an Asari the way they actually were; he had been told by a few other folks of different species that Asari looked "just like them", too.
(Yes, Kaidan. We've done our best to keep it quiet. It is hard enough to have a population of biotics without extra stigma and fear from people who do not understand our other abilities and the code by which we live.)
He sat next to her and stroked her head tentacles gently, willing comfort and acceptance, and then she was in his lap - she was a tiny thing, he wondered if she was even fully grown. She put her head on his shoulder and her arms around him and he held her. She was warm and soft and female, and, by all that was holy, more than three times his age. Now he felt the emptiness of loss, the inevitability of death, as though for the first time. Hell, he'd be lucky if he lived to see her in her early maturity. What a magnificent person she would be. He hoped to be able to see her. He hoped she'd remember him.
"I will always remember you, Kaidan," she said. "You are most kind to think of me that way." He took out the clean pocket handkerchief Mom had always told him to carry, and gave it to Liara to dry her face and eyes.
"I'm honored, then," he said. "Your mother, even in her madness, was an incredible creature. You have her fire, her will, and her strength - and perhaps you can learn from her lapse in judgement. She did what she thought was right. Her - error - was in underestimating whatever it is that's controlling Saren. You are beautiful on the inside, where it counts. I'm sure your mother had a lot to do with that, but in the end you make your own choices. And however you grieve her, I'm glad we have you with us."
She smiled sweetly. She was such a sweet kid - and even if she was three times his age, she was still hardly more than an adolescent, at least emotionally. "That means a great deal to me. Shepard said the same thing."
"We all know how much you've helped us, how much you've helped further research into the Protheans even when we've had to use - erm - less than optimal methods," he said, smiling. She smiled back at him again, and it made him feel better. "You're one of our most valuable team members, even if you don't shoot the big guns. Remember that, Liara."
"Even in the depth of her insanity," she choked, "she said that I always made her proud."
"How could you not?" he asked. "You're fearless, you go places where no one else dares go to look at ancient relics and puzzle out how they work. You've published monographs and books when most maiden Asari are dancing in cheap dives or in the military or private mercenaries. Are your - talents more pronounced, or different than most Asari, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Very perceptive of you," she said. "Yes. In your language it's called 'psychometry' - being able to perceive the history of an object and how it was used by touch. Many of my people think that this is not a natural gift and why we should not breed amongst ourselves, because of this 'throwback' sort of talent. However, I have found it very useful in my work; it is not scientific, but it gives me a start, a point on which to base my research. Mother told me that what others said was ridiculous, that I should use what advantages I had, that I was unique..."
"You are unique, Liara. Just like all of us. And if other people are afraid of it, their ignorance reflects poorly upon them, not you." Evidently this was exactly what her mother had said, because she was weeping again, and he was rocking her, stroking her head, the fringes amazingly soft and warm, and all he could do was hold her. The embrace of an alien, friend though they may be, was certainly better than no embrace at all.
She began to drift off, then; between the exhaustion from the battle itself and the loss of her only family she had pushed beyond all her reserves that day, he could tell. Rest, little one, he suggested. You must be well. We will take care of you. I rejoice in our diversity.
She hiccuped and sobbed her way to sleep, and he lifted her - if she weighed fifty kilos he'd have been surprised - and put her on the glorified cot in the improvised quarters for her that they'd carved out of Dr. Chakwas' storeroom and laboratory. She settled then as he kissed her forehead, and smiled like a child when he covered her warmly with a blanket.
Scholarly type? I'd feel like a child molester. He respected her brilliance, her talent, and her promise at the beginning of a long and productive career, but emotionally, she was fifteen, sixteen at most. She'd see him grow old and die before she even entered the Matron stage of her life, if her explanation was correct; he hoped he could last long enough to see her. What an amazing person she'd be, and what a wonderful way for two species to become acquainted, for two individuals to become friends. He hoped he'd never lose that; there were far more important things than making the two-backed beast and he could think of few more important than this.
Shepard was waiting at the coffee machine when he got there. "How is she?" she asked, without preamble. That woman was too observant by half, sometimes. He quirked a sad half-smile.
"Better, I think. Poor kid, just lost the only family she has - needed a shoulder. She has it bad for you, Commander."
She actually looked shocked, then she shook her head and sighed. "Oh, gods, Kaidan - the last thing I expected. I'd never think -"
"What, that she'd go for a dashing, beautiful, strong commanding officer? A hero with the Star of Terra? Speaking candidly, Commander, sometimes you're a bit dense. I told her awhile ago that your preference was for men. I hope I didn't presume too much."
"I'll accept that, if you take out the 'sometimes', Kaidan. Thanks. I couldn't bear to hurt her again after - today, after all that's happened. She's so sweet, and to lose your mother that way -"
He nodded. "Give her a little space to grieve before you see her again."
She smiled at him, and put a hand on his still-damp shoulder. "You're a good man, Alenko," she said, looking at him with the hazel eyes that missed nothing, despite her disclaimer. "She's lucky to have a friend like you, and so am I."
"This is a great crew, and I think that given the circumstances, we're all lucky to be friends. But - thanks, Ma'am."
The smile got more than a little warmer, and he blushed a bit. He wondered if she knew how bad he had it for her, but that was just plain unprofessional, and this was not the time. He settled for a cup of coffee and a sandwich from the snack machine and sat down with the book he'd originally brought to read, and Shepard went off to do leader things. He didn't feel bad about enjoying the view as she left, though. A man could look, as long as it was in a respectful manner.
He was only human.