I. Escape
The utter and ghostly silence of outer space enveloped the Normandy like a velvet blanket, as she was floating in orbit of Alchera. The starship's long and slightly arched front reflected distant starlight on its metallic plates as well as the faint blue glow from the planet below. Carbon and water-ice made Alchera glow with the light of the system's star, like a pale milky marble.
On starships, there was no discernable night or day period, but on distant Earth, it would have been the middle of the night somewhere. It seemed as if the quiet atmosphere had seeped into the ship from outer space, leaving only the constant hum of the engines or an occasional rumble. Crew members had long ago named these sounds the "breaths" of the Normandy, because her engines where much more quiet than those of other ships, almost like the deep breaths of some giant sea creature.
Construction of the Crucible was to be completed in the next few days, and the Commander had set course for this empty system, ordering all of them to get some rest before their final battle. They were supposed to leave for the Citadel next day, to hand the Normandy over for retrofitting. People were battered by bad news, deaths of loved ones and war since the Reapers had arrived, and they needed to relax one last time. Hope isn't a flower blooming in adversity, Shepard had told them. It's a plant that will wither if not attended to, by yourself or by the ones close to you. She wasn't so sure anymore that she believed those romantic words herself.
Since the construction of the Crucible had begun, she had felt a progressive restlessness building up inside of her. It wasn't that Shepard hadn't willingly put herself into danger to protect the galaxy from destruction by the Reapers, because she had. Ever since the pursuit of Saren, her death by the hands of the Collectors, the resurrection by Cerberus, fighting the Collectors once more, and building an alliance against the Reapers… there always had been little hope, but she had clung to it like a drowning man to driftwood. This wasn't fear. It felt more like a growing realization that…
Layra Shepard turned away from the windows of her quarters overlooking Alchera's silent, ice-blue surface. An empty bed with rumpled sheets greeted her, surrounded by datapads. The room was dimply lit, but she navigated through the mess around her bed like a sleepwalker with odd precision. He hadn't come. Some small part of her sleep-deprived mind had hoped he would visit her, he would surely understand the signs, or at least see that something was wrong, but… It's better if he doesn't see it until it's too late, her rational side warned. He would try something funny, that hot-headed turian mate of yours, reassured the joking part, the one he always managed to lure out in conversations. You will regret this, said the sad voice nearest to her heart. Shepard looked at the small device that was almost hidden underneath the ravaged sheets. It hadn't been easy to acquire, but knowing the greatest thief in the galaxy sure helped to get things that weren't exactly legal.
After a few minutes of staring-contest with her bed, she finally crossed the room and stepped up to the holographic wardrobe. Absent-mindedly she typed in her wishes, and a compartment slid open with a hiss to reveal a special thermic undersuit. Shepard put it on without really knowing what her limbs were doing, her thoughts being elsewhere during this fully automated procedure. The undersuit was a gift from Liara, its lightness and comfortable fit a unique design. She paused for a moment, then slipped into her N7 hoodie and casual pants.
Suddenly her behaviour struck her as the clandestine thing it really was and she felt a sting of shame. But since she had never done something like this before… it was no surprise it felt uneasy. With a sigh Shepard took her old dog tags from the stand on her desk. They were almost burned beyond recognition by either the heat of the fire or the coldness of space – or maybe both. She put the tags into the pocket of her hoodie. With one last look at the group photo of her squadmates sitting on its designated shelf, she stepped out of her quarters.
Roaming the Normandy when most of its crew was fast asleep had always been one of her favourite occupations. Of course, usually some people were awake. But today, it seemed that everyone had followed her orders to rest. Shepard strode through the empty command deck like a ghost, the shoe fabric of her undersuit making next to no sound on the smooth metallic floors.
Well, not everyone. There was still an ever vigilant person she had to put to sleep. Approaching the pilot seat she saw Joker had set his beloved chair into a horizontal position. His head had slumped to the side and despite there was no sign of it, a vivid picture of drool dripping from the corner of his mouth came to his Commanders mind. Jokers light snoring filled the air as next to him, EDI turned to face her. Shepard put a finger on her lips to silence her, before the AI could start to speak with her ringing voice. If Joker woke up, everything would be ruined. Layra didn't know if EDI had enhanced hearing in her synthetic body, but nevertheless she wasn't going to risk waking Joker. She leaned close to the AI, who now had a look of mild surprise on her face.
"EDI… I don't want to wake Joker, he looked dead on his feet in the last few days.", she began in a low voice. The surprise in EDIs face turned into something that looked like concern, and she simply nodded. "Now that I think of it… it's time for your updates and backups.", she noted further. It was hard to read the AIs face most of the time, but now she saw something that was even harder to recognize. Suspicion, maybe?
"Commander…", she began, her mechanical voice kept to a whisper for Jokers sake, but Shepard put her hand up to silence her again.
"We have a fight ahead of us. You should be in the best shape possible, EDI. To Standby, this is an order." For a moment, the AI seemed to contemplate what she said. Thank God she was still not human – or organic in any way, otherwise she may have recognized the hollow excuse to shut her down and the emotional turmoil Shepard was in. EDIs eyes flickered and were in the process of closing, when Shepard remembered to add a last comment.
"But keep an eye out for incoming threats. Standby on anything else. And take your time… Backup everything."
"Yes, Commander. Logging you out. AI is on Standby. Defence mechanisms intact." With a louder than usual buzzing sound that made Shepard want to strangle her, EDI closed her eyes and moved no more. Joker stirred in his sleep and mumbled something about "shooting some big gun", but thankfully he didn't wake up. Shepard watched the monitor in front of EDI initiating the backup protocol. Backupping everything should take a while. She had time.
The mess hall was abandoned and empty. The silence painfully reminded Layra of the time when the Collectors abducted her whole crew to feed them to the human Reaper they were building. Even Mess Sergeant Gardner was absent. It felt strangely deserted without the voices of crew members busting Gardner's tail about his bad cooking, or talking about recent events… or just having a drink together.
Before she knew it, she had walked up the steps to the corridor she knew perfectly well. The door leading to the main battery stood before her, and suddenly she felt a rush of uncertainty wash over her like a mighty wave. The door became transparent before her inner eye, and she could almost see Garrus standing in front of the console he was so fond of, going after his favourite hobby: calibrating the Normandy's giant guns.
The urge to see him was almost overwhelming, not unlike the pull of a magnet. She was quite sure that he was sleeping, but also knew that the turian sleep was as light as that of a predator – always ready to strike, even while resting. A familiar memory of Garrus jumping like a wildcat the first few times that she moved during her sleep made her smile. He got used to it, eventually. Shepard took a breath of courage and touched to door controls, which made the plates disassemble with a small hiss.
Dim red light filled the room as usual, the batteries and machinery humming a well known song in perfect unison, making her heart leap. A broad shape wrapped in a rough blanket lay on a small cot at the far side of the room. She had never understood how he was able to sleep on that abomination of a bed, but she supposed that his hard turian carapace and skin plates made him immune to the need of something soft to lie down on. He probably wouldn't mind sleeping on a rock, for all she knew.
"Why do you like the main battery so much?", she heard her own voice ask as she remembered one of their conversations. His arms had been wrapped around her, his face buried in her long hair. There was no war, no Reapers, no utter destruction threatening the galaxy, and no crushing weight on her shoulders. She was encased inside a warm, slightly rough cocoon that Garrus had built her with his being. It had been bliss.
"I remember telling you that turians didn't like the cold…" Layra felt his mandibles twitch slightly as he spoke in a soft voice. "Where was that again? Right, that spiritforsaken planet where we almost had our asses frozen off…" There was that joking, slightly challenging hum in his sub-harmonics that always made her smile.
"The main battery is warmer than the rest of the ship. It feels… like home." Shepard felt his chest expand as he took a deep breath, and she could feel a talon striding playfully through her open hair. Before their first night together, she had never seen what turians looked like underneath their suits or armor. Garrus had nervously told her that he had blunted the talons on his fingers to avoid hurting her. From the moment when his hand had touched her hair for the first time, he seemed to be obsessed with it. She only ever wore it open during sleep, but she could absolutely be sure that she would wake up with three fingers buried in the locks at the back of her head.
The comforting memory fading from her thoughts, Garrus' shoulder was rising and falling with the deep breaths of sleep. Shepard leaned forward, fully knowing the risk of waking him, but unable to resist the intoxicating scent of his skin. It was a mixture of rich earth, the highly precise polish he used to clean his sniper rifle, and something unique that she couldn't really specify. Whenever she smelled it, a dozen thoughts filled her head at the same time. The distinct clicking sound of a thermal clip being pushed into a rifle. The never-changing red glow of streetlamps on Omega. Tall pillars of a long forgotten civilization on a distant world. Being a child again, sliding down a treacherous ridge and landing on soft, green moss. Fighting the yearning to slip beneath the blanket and inhale this scent all night long was like struggling with an overmighty enemy.
Too late Layra noticed that she had forgotten to tie her hair into a tight knot before leaving her quarters, and before she knew it, a few strands got loose to brush against the side of his face. She pulled back immediately, choking down a yelp of shock, but he already stirred from the light touch. Why was she always so reckless when it came to him? Staying longer would definitely endanger her plans… It took her more willpower to turn away from him, than being a galaxy-saving first human Spectre, facing the horrors of the Collector base, and even fighting against Sovereign.