When she heard the door open Charlotte threw herself behind the sofa. It was one of the rare pieces of valuable advice her father had given her: if she was alone in the apartment and someone tried to get in, hide. She wasn't exactly alone but he was unconscious on the sofa that was acting as her sanctuary. She peeked carefully around the corner expecting to see the landlord, grumbling and making the usual threats. Instead an alien, a head taller than her father and covered in what looked more like metal than skin, stood in the doorway. Pressing herself further into the back of the sofa, she clapped a hand over her mouth to prevent a whimper from escaping.
What Charlotte knew of aliens was informed largely by the extreme political groups, like Terra Firma, that campaigned in the area. They gave speeches about humanity standing alone in the galaxy, and handed out leaflets that she couldn't read but which were full of frightening pictures. They muttered darkly about the taking of Shanxi. No one ever bothered to tell Charlotte what it was: in her mind Shanxi became a little girl kidnapped by faceless monsters. Now, she thought, they had come for her.
The alien said something in a low voice that she couldn't understand.
"I know, it's grim."
Charlotte jumped, startled, and peered cautiously around the sofa. Focused on the alien, she hadn't noticed the woman that had entered the room with him. In the dim light she could just see that the woman looked unhappy, but she didn't seem to be afraid of the alien. In fact, he had placed a hand on her shoulder as if comforting her. The woman's eyes fell on the sofa and Charlotte quickly retreated out of sight. She heard them approaching her hiding place and curled in on herself tightly, waiting to be found.
The discovery never came. They lingered near the sofa but seemed more interested in her father. When she risked a quick glance the woman was shaking him quietly, trying to wake him. Charlotte found herself opening her mouth to warn them that disturbing her father's sleep was a bad idea, but remembered herself in time and clapped a hand over her mouth, horrified at what she had almost done.
The alien said something else and the woman replied, "It looks bad. I'll find that awful landlord, see if I can get in touch with a hospital."
With that, they left. Charlotte held her breath, waiting for ten seconds to make sure they wouldn't come back. Then she was on her feet, ready to run for the door, desperate to get away unnoticed. She had only taken a step when she realised she had made a mistake; only the woman had left, the alien was still there. She dropped immediately back to the floor but it was too late: he had seen her.
He peered cautiously around the back of the sofa, talking to her quietly in a language she couldn't understand. She shook her head helplessly and buried her face in the crook of her arm, terrified. He fell silent for a long moment. Curiosity eventually overcame fear and Charlotte raised her head. The alien was now sitting on the floor, his hands held open on his lap as if trying to show her that he had nothing to hurt her with. He began to talk again, haltingly, his voice low and non-threatening.
They remained like that for a long time until Charlotte almost began to feel safe. Then there were heavy footsteps in the corridor and the landlord burst into the room, cursing, the woman close behind him. "I knew he'd be trouble," he snarled. "What am I supposed to do with the kid?"
"Kid?" asked the woman, startled. In response the alien nodded towards Charlotte. The woman's head appeared in the entrance of her hiding place. She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by another outburst from the landlord. Frowning, the woman turned briefly to the alien. "Could you deal with that, Garrus?"
The alien nodded and rose to his feet, dragging the protesting man out of the room.
The woman settled herself in front of Charlotte and reached slowly into her jacket. Charlotte tensed, expecting something bad. Instead the woman produced a bar of chocolate and held it out to her. Unthinking, Charlotte snatched it and gobbled it quickly. She hadn't eaten since the previous night and her stomach overruled her usual sense of caution.
The woman waited until she had finished licking her fingers clean and then said, "My name's Shepard. What's yours?"
"Charlotte," she said hesitantly.
"Charlotte," the woman repeated, smiling. "That's a pretty name. Would you like to come with me and get something proper to eat?"
Charlotte shook her head vigorously.
"Why not?" asked Shepard.
"The alien will hurt me."
"Garrus?" said Shepard incredulously, laughing. "He only hurts bad people, like your landlord. He would never hurt you."
Charlotte eyed her warily, torn between her fear and the longing for a plate of hot food. "Promise?" she eventually asked.
"I promise," said Shepard solemnly. She stood slowly and when she offered her hand Charlotte took it.
Charlotte got her favourite food: a plate overflowing with fries and a burger. After that, the rest of the day was a blur of different people in unfamiliar buildings. They all seemed official, all asked her question after question that she didn't know how to answer. At some point it was explained to her that her father had gone away and would not come back. She didn't understand. Her father disappeared frequently, leaving her to be taken care of by whichever neighbour took pity on her. It took her weeks, even months, to fully realise that this time he really wouldn't come back, that she would never see him again.
Throughout it all Shepard and Garrus stood by her, their stances protective. One of them would interrupt one of the officials with a sharp command if they noticed Charlotte becoming upset. Finally, Shepard called a halt to the proceedings and pulled Charlotte gently to one side.
"You know that you can't go back to the apartment?" asked Shepard.
Charlotte nodded mutely.
"Would you like to live with us? It doesn't have to be forever if you decide you don't like it," she added in a rush.
"Yes," said Charlotte immediately. She didn't have to think about it. If her father had gone away there was no one else to look after her and nowhere she could go. She had heard scary stories about what happened to children with no parents, and she didn't want anything bad to happen to her. Shepard had already fed her and Garrus was beginning to win her over despite the language barrier.
Shepard smiled brilliantly. "We'll take care of you, little Lottie."
Years later, Charlotte (or Lottie as she had then become) would wonder how many credits had exchanged hands that day. The moment the decision had been made the officials agreed to let her go, and she was hurried away from the grim building to her new home on one of the galaxy's most famous ships.
In her new life Lottie, who had never known any family other than her father, found herself surrounded by a small legion of aunts and uncles. Deeply suspicious of anyone other than her new parents, she would barely speak to their friends at first. But they were endlessly patient with her, slowly winning her over with small treats and confidences. After a few months, whenever both of her parents were occupied, she trailed after them like a small shadow. Despite never having formal education, she turned out to be an enthusiastic learner, soaking up whatever they could teach her. Tali taught her about engines, Joker talked (and bragged) about the complexities of flying a ship and by the time she was ten she had learned how to bypass a range of security devices courtesy of Kasumi. As she became older it turned into a competition between them, with each trying to persuade her to follow in their footsteps.
They were not always together. Tali returned to the Flotilla just over a year after Lottie came to the Normandy, and Kasumi regularly disappeared for weeks at a time only to slip back aboard unannounced when they were docked. Others, such as Wrex and Grunt on Tuchanka and Liara on Illium, had commitments on planets that they couldn't leave. Some members of their family she never had the chance to meet: Ashley Williams, killed by geth years earlier; Thane Krios, victim of an incurable disease. Her mother talked about them so much that Lottie felt she knew them. She knew of Ashley's love of poetry, of Thane's belief in disappearing gods and regularly found their faces in her mother's collection of holos. She even met Thane's son, an earnest man who took his work in C-Sec very seriously, a few times over the years.
People were lost over the years. Mordin died on Tuchanka, his work on a cure for the genophage incomplete. When Lottie was fifteen an asari she had never met before boarded the ship and asked to stay. She was greeted with deep respect by the crew and settled quickly into the starboard observation room. It didn't take Lottie long to connect this serious, almost revered asari with the stories of Samara the justicar she had heard when she was younger. She was desperate to talk to her, to listen to the many stories she must have to tell, but her father gently advised her not to pester. Samara knew her time was short and had returned to the Normandy to die among friends.
Some people rarely or never left. Joker said another pilot would have to step over his dead body to sit at the Normandy's helm. Doctor Chakwas and Rupert Gardner were permanent fixtures, as was the ship's bubbly councillor, Lottie's confidante in her early teen years. Miranda and Jacob would disappear briefly from time to time, usually on a mission assigned by her mother, but they always returned.
At the centre of Lottie's life were Shepard and Garrus. It didn't take her long to come to think of them as her parents. They treated her with more love and affection than her father ever had. They were forced to part from time to time when they faced a particularly dangerous mission, but unlike with her father Lottie had absolute faith that they would return.
Liara won.
Her parents were happy about it. They never tried to discourage her interest in their work, answering whatever questions she asked frankly, and they would have supported her had she chosen to follow in their footsteps. But they had come close to death far too many times to want that kind of life for Lottie. The uncertainty of life, watching friends and comrades die, making sacrifice after sacrifice that seem to make no difference – they suffered it in the hope that she wouldn't have to.
Liara doted on Lottie. She brought gifts whenever she visited, but Lottie looked forward to her bedtime stories more than anything else. She spoke of her research into the Protheans, of the decades she spent unearthing ancient ruins and trying to piece together the mystery of their disappearance. Lottie would slip into dreams of these vanished people who had lived so many centuries ago. Shepard and Garrus were worried about her the first time they took her to the Citadel. Having spent her life in such a grim environment, they expected her to be at least a little dazzled by the beautiful sights on the Presidium. Instead of staring at the lake she walked with her eyes glued to the floor. They worried she was frightened; they didn't know she was thinking of the people who had walked the same streets so long ago.
She loved talking to asari. With their amazingly long life spans, almost impossible for her to comprehend at first, they had witnessed firsthand things she could only read about . Many were alive when the geth took Rannoch, something that was out of the living memory of any quarian. She found a friend in Matriarch Aethyta. The Matriarch didn't quite know what to make of the strangely quiet, serious little girl during their first meeting, but when she soon warmed to her when she realised Lottie was genuinely interested in her stories. Whenever they docked at Illium Eternity was her second port of call after Liara's office – always accompanied by one of the crew because her parents weren't enthusiastic about letting her visit a bar alone, no matter how friendly or trusted the owner.
By the time she was eleven Lottie had told her parents that she wanted to be an archaeologist. It was a long five years before she could finally begin to pursue her dream. They researched schools she could attend when she was old enough, avoiding those based on Earth because the thought of returning there was enough to make her tremble. Eventually they found somewhere suitable far away from Earth. The entrance age for humans was eighteen but she petitioned them until they allowed her to take the entrance exam two years early, and when she passed they happily accepted her.
When Lottie returned to the Citadel for the first time in five years it was with mixed feelings. She was newly qualified, having excelled and placed consistently at the top of her class since the first day, and had a place on a research team due to leave in a month. She was still almost giddy with success and eagerly anticipating the challenging road to obtaining a doctorate. Almost as exciting was the prospect of seeing her parents the next day. Snowed under with work, she hadn't been able to visit them for eighteen months. If the message they had sent was any indication she was in for quite the family reunion: in addition to the standard crew, both Kasumi and Liara were onboard.
On the other hand, she was nursing her first broken heart. She had fallen in love with a fellow student, an asari named Kara. Things had gotten serious enough that she had mentioned her in a message home, but a conflict of interest had led to them drifting apart as their course drew to a close. Lottie wanted to embark on her career, Kara wanted to explore what the galaxy had to offer. Neither was willing to sacrifice for the other. The break up was amicable enough and Lottie knew that it was the right decision, but that didn't stop her from missing Kara.
The hotel her parents had booked cheered her up immediately. After several months of field work, sleeping on the floor or worryingly rickety collapsible beds, a comfortable mattress would have seemed like heaven. Her parents, however, had outdone themselves. The bed was king-size and covered in fluffy pillows, the bath in the en suite deep and surrounded by fragrant soaps and lotions. On the bedside table was a bottle of champagne and a message congratulating her on her new qualification.
Making her way to the restaurant that evening, Lottie found herself wishing that she could stay for more than a day. She brushed that thought away; it had been a long time since she had set foot on the Normandy, and it would be good to see home again.
"Good evening," the maître d' greeted her cordially. "Room number?"
"115."
He ran a finger down a list of names in his book, found hers and then smiled up at her. "Right this way, Ms. Shepard."
Mind on the prospect of the coming meal, she didn't notice a man's head jerk up at the sound of her name. Now able to smell the delicious food just feet away, her stomach gave an embarrassingly loud snarl. Suddenly she was aware that she had spent the last few months living on bland rations. She followed the maître d' eagerly, ignorant of the quick exchange of credits that allowed the man to slip into the restaurant in pursuit of her. Engrossed in the menu, she didn't even notice him when he was standing right in front of her. It wasn't until he cleared his throat that she looked up, startled.
"Excuse me, ma'am. I'm sorry to interrupt your meal, but I couldn't help overhearing just before – your name is Shepard?"
Things like this happened from time to time. Her mother was famed as defeater of reapers, the saviour of the galaxy. Every so often someone would want to speak to her after finding out she was the famous Shepard's daughter. Those people were usually the same age or younger than her, overly enthusiastic or even gushing, who had seen one too many bad vids about Commander Shepard's adventures. The man in front of her looked like he was in his late forties or early fifties, greying slightly at the temples, and regarded her calmly; he didn't look like the gushing type. "That's right," said Lottie, looking up at him curiously.
"Any relation to the famous Shepard?"
"She's my mother."
The man's hand gripped the back of the opposite chair, his knuckles white with tension. "Mother," he repeated quietly, more to himself than her. "I thought she was with Garrus."
She frowned deeply. A lot of people who knew of her mother also knew of her father, but they never referred to him so casually. "Garrus is my father," she explained cautiously. "They adopted me. Do you know them?"
"I did a long time ago. When you see your mom will you tell her..." He trailed off, staring blankly into the distance. "Tell her Kaidan says sorry."
"Why don't you tell her yourself?"
The man – Kaidan – laughed humourlessly. "I'm probably the last person she wants to hear from."
"She's always happy to hear from an old friend, and she's coming here tomorrow."
He looked like he was on the brink of refusing for a second, but instead his mouth snapped shut and he considered her in silence. Finally he said, "I think I will. Thanks." Nodding politely, he turned and began to walk away.
Lottie wasn't sure why, but she didn't want him to leave. Impulsively she called out, "Hey – Kaidan? Why don't you join me? I'm sure you know plenty of embarrassing stories that my parents would rather I didn't hear."
He let out a bark of laughter and turned back to the table. "I might have a few but if your mother is anything like I remember I wouldn't survive the reprisal."
Despite the potential consequences, Kaidan had taken a seat next to her. Lottie grinned at him, unaware that a silence of nearly twenty years had just ended.
The work on Rannoch was unlike anything she had done before. When the geth first rebelled some quarians had attempted to evacuate their most precious relics off world. Their plans had largely failed as the fight for their species' survival took precedence over everything else. Even had they succeeded those artefacts would not have made it through the last three hundred years unscathed: space was extremely limited on the Migrant Fleet and every credit went to maintaining the ships and feeding their crews, with none left over to buy storage space on planets. Some small pieces had made it and now existed in the hands of important admirals. Most remained on Rannoch, destroyed by the war or the decay of centuries. Lottie's job, searching through former museums and the stations where precious crates had been taken for transport, was to find whatever historical relics still existed.
She led a small team composed mostly of quarians. Finding quarians with the experience and knowledge for a job like this, who could be spared from the arduous task of rebuilding the cities, had been next to impossible. Having spent most of their lives on ships it was not a common trade. With enough research she found a handful who had worked with archaeologists during their Pilgrimages and wrangled with their supervisors to get them free. They worked in conjunction with several other teams that had drawn on asari and salarian specialists.
It was disheartening work. The return to the homeworld was joyous but fraught with problems. Their immune systems further weakened by life on the Flotilla, it was as yet unclear when the quarians would be able to emerge from their suits. In some of the buildings they came across it was painfully obvious that families had been forced to pick up their lives and flee at a moment's notice. Their often unsuccessful search for relics of their past was just one more reminder of what they had lost. Most days they found nothing or irreparable ruins.
Most days – but not today. They had set up camp at a new site in the morning, outside what used to be a museum. With only a small collapsed section, it was remarkably intact. Their initial sweep of the building had revealed a small room, locked but easily bypassed, and inside several crates of perfectly preserved ancient artefacts. They had clearly been prepared for transport but never moved. Perhaps the geth had advanced quicker than expected, forcing those who worked there to flee; whatever the reason, they had clearly left in a hurry.
The rest of the day had been spent classifying and cataloguing the items. When the work was done Lottie cracked open their best supplies and a bottle of wine and declared the night a party. Unable to eat any of the good food, she had left her team to their celebrations and crept outside with a tube of nutrient paste. That was another downside to working on Rannoch: surviving on various types of tasteless mush. She had been able to get hold of human friendly food in the capital, and very rarely she received a parcel of something slightly tastier from home, but most of the time she relied on the paste. Before coming here she hadn't thought it possible to miss Rupert's cooking, but she had been proved wrong.
A muffled footstep broke the peace of the night. Lottie glanced lazily over her shoulder, expecting to see one of her team come to drag her back to the party. Instead she caught a flash of a familiar purple mask. "Aunt Tali!" she cried, scrambling to her feet and throwing herself into the quarian's arms with the enthusiasm of a five-year-old.
"It's good to see you too, Lottie," Tali laughed, returning her hug.
"What are you doing here?" asked Lottie as they parted.
"Just checking in and bringing you something I think you will appreciate." She held up a small but packed hamper, ignored in the excitement of their first embrace. Opening it, Lottie found it stuffed with human food. There was roast chicken, now cold but still mouth-watering, fruit, chocolate and a small bottle of wine.
"You must be psychic," grinned Lottie. "I was just longing for some proper food."
Something stirred in the darkness behind Tali and another quarian stepped forwards. She lingered at a distance, looking politely away from the reunion playing out in front of her. Tali cursed herself quietly for her rudeness and waved the other woman forwards."Lottie, this is Riva'Lenai, my personal guard. Riva, this is Doctor Charlotte Shepard."
Lottie pulled a face. "No one has called me Charlotte in years. It's Lottie."
Riva's greeting nod was polite and formal, so Lottie was surprised when she spoke and her voice was full of enthusiasm. "It's really a pleasure to meet you, Doctor. I've been reading about your work for weeks."
Lottie beamed back at her, glad to meet someone who approved of her work. Some were of the opinion that the project was a waste of time, and that the credits would be better spent on rebuilding. "We made a wonderful find today, I'd be happy to show you some pieces – as long as you call me Lottie."
Although her face was hidden, Lottie could hear the smile in Riva's voice."Thank you, Lottie."
While Tali set out the food – both levo and dextro based – Lottie took Riva to see the artefacts. When they came back they were deep in a conversation about the possible implications of the find that lasted for most of the night. Tali, watching the exchange quietly but happily, noted that Lottie seemed more animated than she had in months. She had only been able to visit her adoptive niece a couple of times since her arrival on Rannoch, but on both occasions she had looked exhausted and disheartened. Part of the change was undoubtedly because of the fantastic find her team had made today – but Tali had an inkling that Riva also had something to do with it. Similarly, the usually quiet Riva was speaking more than she had done in months.
The next morning, when it was time for Tali to return to her duties, she left Riva with Lottie.
"But what would I need a personal guard for?" asked Lottie, perplexed.
"You never know," said Tali vaguely. "It's always best to be prepared.
Lottie narrowed her eyes, sensing that Tali had an ulterior motive. "Aunt Tali..." she began sternly, but Tali was already slipping into her shuttle and closing the door, chuckling quietly to herself.
Six months later and they were back in the capital, Lottie to oversee the transportation of what they had found so far and Riva to finally report for a new assignment. The journey had passed in a tense silence. Both knew that things would be difficult for them from now on. Riva could be posted to the other side of the planet or maybe even offworld. They both had access to transport but their duties would keep them too busy to travel on a regular basis. It could be months until they saw each other again – longer than they had even been together. That was why when Riva, voice serious, said that she wanted to speak to her alone, Lottie feared that their relationship was over before it could really begin.
Riva brought them to a sterile room where it would be safe for her to remove the envirosuit. It was still not safe for quarians to discard their suits entirely. In the three centuries since they had been forced to flee Rannoch their immune systems had weakened to such an extent that even the atmosphere of their homeworld could harm them. Government scientists and doctors were frantically developing medicinal aids to ease the transition to life outside the suits, but it would be a while before they were widely available. Within a year, the government promised, they would begin to issue the drugs – pending the results of trials, of course.
Lottie marvelled at the sight of Riva's bare hand on hers, something she had seen only once before. Most of the suit remained in place but Riva had removed the sections that usually covered her hands and face. "I can't leave Rannoch," she began haltingly. "I grew up hearing stories of how one day we would return to the homeworld – I can't leave now we're finally here."
"I would never expect you to," said Lottie firmly.
"Perhaps I could if things were different, more settled. I think you would be worth leaving for." She smiled briefly but brilliantly, making Lottie's heart thump a little harder before Riva's worried frowned returned. "But it will take years for us to adjust to life here, and I can't leave knowing that I can help."
She wasn't just talking about the physical challenges they faced. Quarian society and culture had evolved to fit life on the Flotilla. An important rite of passage was an adolescent receiving their first envirosuit, something that, with luck, the next generation would not need. The ships they lived on were so important that they formed part of their very identities, making up the last portion of their names. Now that was no longer necessary.
"I can't expect you to stay here, either," continued Riva. "Life on Rannoch will be... difficult. For this generation at the very least. We have a lot of rebuilding to do, not just the cities but ourselves. Our traditions on the Flotilla were rigid because they had to be, but now we're back on the homeworld we need to change. Keelah knows how people will react." She sighed unhappily. "Maybe there will be violence. I hope not, but it's possible."
"I'm not going anywhere," said Lottie. "I have work here that could last for years."
Riva waved her hand impatiently as if brushing the comment away. "It will end eventually. Then you will want to return to your family, your home."
Lottie caught her hand and brought it to her lips, pressing a kiss into her palm as she had done only a few times before. "Aunt Tali has a saying I like: 'home is a state of mind'," she squeezed Riva's hand lightly, emphasising her message. "I know I will always have a place on the Normandy, but my home is with you now."