T-120 Days
She had always been a beautiful ship.
60 days into her refit, there were many who thought she was more beautiful than ever. She was quiet, she had legs, and she had teeth. She would be well suited to her new role as a mobile command center. Her new livery only added to the pride of those working on her.
The daily progress reports on the refit reflected a project that was expertly managed, and ahead of schedule. Current estimates expected the ship to be ready for her first shakedown in 8 days.
THAT would not do. It was time to call the admiral.
While she used one hand to access her comm panel to call the admiral's office, she used the other to bring up a current set of specs she had written to prepare for this conversation. As she waited for various members of the admiral's staff to verify that her call warranted escalation to the admiral, she made minor modifications to the specifications she was about to provide.
'Doctor!" the admiral exclaimed when his face appeared on the comm, "I've already told you that I can't share any information about the review board." She allowed a small smile for the admiral, reflecting on how fortunate it was that she didn't depend on the admiral's good graces to stay well informed before she replied, "That's not unexpected Admiral, and that isn't the reason for my call."
"Was there something you needed then, Doctor?" he asked. "No, Admiral," she replied, "The facilities you've provided for me have been everything I needed to perform the research you requested."
"I would hope so, Doctor," replied the admiral. "You requested far more computational power and data access than were in our original budget." "I've also already had far greater results than your team had before my arrival," she countered. "True enough," he conceded.
"However, that is the purpose of my call Admiral," she continued, "I'd like to discuss some computational needs that I believe you have. I'm sending you a data transmission that I'd like you to review…"
T-119 Days
She was running a translation algorithm when the admiral's call was routed to her comm. "Admiral!" she greeted, "How pleasant to hear from you so soon."
The admiral's eyes did not reflect her enthusiasm, but instead carried a hard edge. "What is the purpose of this equipment Doctor?" he asked, "These are plans for a system with more computational power than a dreadnaught."
"And nearly three times the capability of the equipment you've given here Admiral," she replied, "At one half the power draw and one eighth the physical size. You'll need all of it if you're going to be running a war from that ship." She refrained from continuing her praises of the design. It would not do for the admiral to suspect that her knowledge of high-end communications and computational equipment extended from anything other than the need to translate ancient texts of extremely technical data.
The admiral's stance softened slightly as he reflected on her words. "Where would you put this extra equipment?" he asked, "It isn't like the ship is full of extra space waiting to be allocated."
"I would think the XO's office," she responded, after pausing to pretend to reflect on his question, "That space is overly large for a single officer, and I doubt you'd want to give up either observation lounge given the likelihood of having receptions while on diplomatic missions."
"The captain's quarters, you mean?" the admiral asked.
"I would think that would be too much space," she replied, feigning confusion to his reference, as she was already viewing plans with a revision date 5 days prior. "Also, isn't that inconvenient to have an intelligence officer separated on their own deck?" Besides, she intended other uses for the captain's cabin.
"I understand your confusion, Doctor," the admiral responded. "That space will be my quarters, while what was formerly the XO's office will now go to the CO of the ship. Admirals and other flag officers don't command individual ships. The ship will still have a dedicated CO, but the ship would also carry my flag." After a moment he continued "But I agree with your assessment. Between proximity to power and to the CIC, that is probably the best place for it. There's no way to put it nearer the war room without a major refit".
She relaxed slightly. That had been her fear, that her suggestion be accepted but the correlating suggestion of location be opposed. There was no other location for what she already thought of as her equipment to go, without impacting the launch timetable beyond what was acceptable.
"If this equipment is everything you say Doctor, then it is worth delaying the launch by another 4 weeks," stated the admiral. "Who is the manufacturer of the primary components?"
"The system is based on a Salarian design Admiral," she said, slipping into what she though of as her professor mode, "but they have never taken this specific set of components beyond the design stage. I do know a contractor on Illium and another on Omega who could deliver the components on spec, but it will take a few weeks. I could contact them and place the orders, if you like."
The admiral looked back at her for nearly 30 seconds before replying, obviously trying to ascertain her motives while she stared at him blandly in return.
"Do it," he said, and broke connection.
T-45 Days
Everything was going according to plan. Her local equipment was in real time synch with the corresponding equipment on the ship. Replicating all of her data had taken 4 days at full capacity, under the guise of a stress test by one of her agents on the engineering team. She had compensated him well for his ability to hold the rest of his team back from stopping the synchronization when it had gone well beyond the scheduled 24 hours. Fortunately, future updates would only use a fraction of the system's capacity, and there were no experts on the system among the engineering crew who weren't also in her employ.
She composed a message to the admiral suggesting that the ship's sensors, communications, and navigation also be routed through the new system, to take advantage of the performance that would be gained by the additional computational capacity. The data she would collect with this configuration was a convenient side benefit.
T-41 Days
She smiled over her tea as she read the day's status reports. They reflected the addition of new systems integration tasks with an estimated completion date 21 days in the future, depending on certain key components being available.
She placed a call to one of her agents, instructing him to make several specific purchases.
T-11 Days
After unexpected delays in acquiring hardware, all the necessary components had finally been delivered. The additional systems integration had required every system on the ship to be shut down and calibrated in their new configurations. She smiled slightly at the thought of how many "calibrations" the ship had required over the last 6 months, and thought of another who would be equally amused.
T-0 Days
Although her estimate of the arrival had a margin of error of plus or minus 5 days, she would have been pleased if her analysis had pinpointed the date exactly. (Not that she was hoping for the arrival, but she saw it as inevitable).
She pursed her lips as she read the day's status reports. There was nothing unusual in them, but she reviewed them again to make certain that she had missed no disguised optimism or hyperbole. She needed to know exactly what condition the ship was in at all times, and she also knew that those who write reports tend to try to keep the person who asked for them happy. As the admiral was the intended recipient of these reports; she imagined that he was a difficult man to please.
Although all primary systems had been fully operational for nearly a week, work on the remaining secondary systems were expected to take another 24 hours to reach completion. She decided that she was fine with the primary systems and currently operational secondary systems, and started reaching out to her agents.
T+3 Days
The game of "shift the resources" was stating to lose its appeal as she could only make small moves this close to the end. The most recent status reports reported that several consoles and engineering panels remained open and disconnected, waiting for final systems integration now that all components were available. However, many of the engineering team had unexpectedly been assigned to other projects. The project manager himself had been abruptly called to a weeklong meeting in London, so it was unlikely that the engineering team could even be reassembled for at least another day.
Despite the artificial delays, her technical eye was pleased with what was described in the current progress reports. The ship wasn't as neat as 4 months prior, but she was significantly improved in function, despite the disarray.
With continued disorder in mind, it would soon be time to come up with another delay that could keep the ship grounded, while not impacting her fundamental spaceworthiness. This close to the end of the timetable, it was important to make certain that any issues introduced wouldn't dissuade the crew from immediately launching if actually necessary. What was left that could delay the shakedown? The QEC? Sensors? Sensors might be too much, while the QEC might not be enough.
She was still considering her options when her console informed her that contact had been lost with the Charon Relay. Almost immediately, a distant rumble invaded her office, more felt than heard. Listening intently she could also hear what experience told her was gunfire.
This was also not unforeseen. More by habit than necessity, she pulled her sidearm from its holster and verified the thermal clip was unused before sliding it smoothly back with a practiced motion. It took less than 10 seconds to enter the commands that would render the equipment in her office inert and unrecoverable. She would never have need of it again. She then slipped on her breather, and stepped out of her office for the last time.
Alarms were sounding; monitors along the corridor displayed nothing but static, and the base VI was issuing a decompression alert for another portion of the complex. Her destination in environmental control was only 150 feet away, and she knew exactly how many steps she had to take to get there.
She knew she had done all she could, but she paused before she climbed into the ductwork. She was not looking forward to the crawl that would take her to the vehicle bay, but she felt rising excitement nonetheless. She had done it. She had kept the ship on Earth, where she knew it would be needed. The Normandy would shortly come with her love, or not at all. Liara knew that one way or another; this was her last day on Mars. She was going home, and Shepard would be there.
Fini
A/N: If there is a goddess of writing, I have surely incurred her wrath. This is my first attempt at this, and I started with the last four lines and worked my way back to the beginning. Please let me know what you think. I already have several items I feel I should have done differently. At least I think I covered Liara's little white lie that she brought her gear from the Shadow Broker ship. I expect the original broker equipment is likely with Feron.
My thanks to LitNiche, whose works convinced me that one shots can be worthwhile and Dr. Jekyl, whose That Which Was Lost confirmed my belief that Liara's story was every bit as engaging as Shepard's...