"Maybe sometime, when I'm not organizing the colony and you're not… doing whatever you do."
With a scoff, she downed the last of her drink.
"Yeah, maybe," she muttered, bitter.
She had come to Illium with the objective of negotiating with Baria Frontiers. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined meeting up with the famous commander again. The last she had heard of Shepard, the commander had perished when the Normandy was destroyed. Clearly this wasn't the case. That aside, the woman would've never expected the commander to assist her in reassessing the –invasive– terms of Zhu's Hope medical contract. Negotiations had been slow and frustrating, yet the commander resolved the situation seemingly without effort. Where the asari had been tearing her crest off in frustration, the human showed calmness and restraint. And she succeeded, just like then.
It had been three years since the day she had first met Shepard. But it all felt like yesterday. Whenever she closed her eyes, the human's face always came to mind. She could never forget her. Regret festered in the asari's heart when she had heard of the human soldier's apparent demise. She had never even had the chance to thank her for everything she had done, but not only for her: Shepard had saved the colony of Zhu's Hope –on Feros– from destruction. She had fought off the invading Geth, a race of synthetics hell-bent on the destruction of organics. And the commander hadn't stopped there. She had fought with fierce determination to free the colonists from the warped control of the Thorian; a sentient plantlike life form. And, again, she had prevailed.
The creature, a sprawl of sensorial tendrils, had needed caretakers to perform tasks alone itself was unable to. Indiscriminate in its choice of thralls, anything with the capability of inhaling its spores held the potential of being the Thorian's slave. The colonists of Zhu's Hope were the first misfortunate of this cycle. In her time with the Thorian, she had come to understand that the being was ancient at best. It witnessed both the rise and fall of the Prothean Empire. And who knows of how many other species before them. The creature would wake at irregular intervals from prolonged periods of hibernation, frantically working to cater to its needs, acquiring various slaves, and then rest again, signifying the end of a cycle. This cycle had been no different, other than it was its last.
Through telepathy, it issued commands to those infected with its spores, and forced them to obey, less were they to be overcome by intense waves of pain. The colony's previous leader, Fai Dan, had committed suicide in a last ditch attempt to wrestle the Thorian for control of his own mind. Shepard had been unable to save him. But amidst the chaos of it all, killing the Thorian, saving the colonists, she had spared her… She had no reason to.
With every intention of freeing the colonists, Shepard had entered the Thorian's lair. Nothing would've nor could've stopped the commander. To say the human was disgusted to see the asari used as envoy was an understatement. She had thought of the Thorian as an aberration; a flagrant insult to the commander and all she stood for; choice. The asari could remember the Thorian's weariness of the commander's rage. Not exactly fear, as it was hard to put anything from her time with the Thorian into words. But the creature was wary of the human's transparency about her feelings.
Empty glass in hand, the asari stared at her faint reflection at the bottom of the glass. She could make out the silhouette of her crest, a dull green blur. She motioned for the bartender to pour her another drink. The turian snuck out yet another bottle from under the counter. It had easily been the fourth time she had requested his services. But he asked no questions. He showed not even the slightest bit of curiosity. He was completely indifferent to the asari, or rather was so to her pigmentation. This relieved the asari more than she thought it could.
As a clear, unknown liquid filled her glass, her reflection morphed into nothing more than a green smudge.
'The Thorian,' she thought, chugging her drink with fervor. More memories of her time with it emerged. From before she met –and subsequently fought– Shepard. And the bartender filled her glass again.
In some ways, it had been pleasant. Her existence prior was bleak in comparison. Out of all her life experiences, none even came close to it. Everything the creature knew, Shiala knew. Everything the creature had experienced, felt, thousands upon thousands of years… all of it had become as much a part of Shiala as of the Thorian. And although not inherently evil, she couldn't help but hate it. She hated what it had done to those colonists, and to those before her time. The asari hated what she had done for the Thorian. But most of all, she hated what she had turned into.
"Don't you have somewhere else to be, ma'am?" It was the turian bartender said. Surely it was his way of letting her know she'd had plenty enough to drink already.
Shiala looked at her omni-tool. Blinking slowly, she tried to make sense of the writing. The shuttle –if she was reading the time correctly– would be leaving soon enough. With a soft sigh, she thanked the turian before leaving.
She tried shaking off the alcohol-induced fogginess but to no avail. At least she could still walk in a fairly straight line. Or that's what it felt like anyway.
"Goddess…" A sickness was rising in her chest. She took deep breathes, pulling out her omni-tool again. She entered keys from memory, opening up the map of the docks. Squinting, she could make out her location and a path up to the restroom. Her breath was coming in short rapid bursts. It felt like her heart was about to jump out of her chest. With as much dignity as she could muster, she rushed off to the ladies'.
Luckily she was alone. It was embarrassing enough as it was. She hadn't drunk so much since her maiden years. In retrospect, it seemed very foolish of her to think she possessed the same threshold as then. After a lighter stomach, and a clearer state of mind, Shiala cleaned herself up. The shuttle wasn't about to wait for her.
Despite herself, Shiala looked around the docks for any sign of the human commander. What she would give to see her again… The asari closed her eyes, and willed her thoughts into another direction. It would do her no good to linger on the commander any longer than she already had.
Her thoughts were interrupted as a voice came on the coms, stating her shuttle had started boarding passengers.
The ride home would prove to be a long way. Pretty out in the middle of nowhere, Feros wasn't close to any shipping lanes. She'd have to make contact with the colony once she was within range for pickup. Shiala tried her hardest to go unnoticed by the other passengers. The last thing she wanted was for them to strike up conversation about her pigmentation. But mostly, she realised, it was she didn't want to give away the fact she had been drinking. Despite the fact that even at her best she was hardly conversational, the green asari didn't trust herself in her current state to keep quiet about the commander, for better or for worse.
The small shuttle held a crew of a dozen or so passengers, herself included. To her surprise, most kept to themselves. With her head pounding, she wanted nothing more than to sleep, and welcomed the silence graciously.
It wasn't long before Shiala heard the pilots initiating docking procedures with a larger transport freighter. To the asari's surprise, the captain was feeling charitable and was willing to bring her as far out as the Hercules system, once the other passengers would've all debarked. From there, she could contact Zhu's Hope and arrange passage home.
Home.
It felt strange thinking of the colony as such. While certainly not her first choice for retirement, Shiala owed it to the colonists to help rebuild Zhu's Hope. And whether she wanted to admit it to herself or not, she had grown fond of them. Besides, having joined Saren along with Matriarch Benezia, and branded as a traitor for it, she had little other decent choices. Her new life was much more relaxing than her days as a commando, but kept her busy all the same. She couldn't help but smile as the revisited contract came back to mind. Perhaps things would look up again, even if only once more.
It didn't take Ledra long to reach the rendezvous point with Shiala. The salarian had taken it upon himself to bring the asari up to date. Like others of his kind, his mind raced, and the words that he spoke sometimes bordered gibberish because he tried to explain too many things at once. While the asari appreciated his effort, she confessed to herself she would've much preferred a written report.
When they finally made it back to the colony, Shiala made a beeline for her quarters, cutting Ledra's extensive report short to his dismay, though she paid him little heed after that observation. Despite the professional business-like attitude she generally showed off, she was exhausted. The last thing she needed was to have to deal with anybody else. Ledra had somehow managed to drain her of what little she had left. To her relief most of the colonists were too busy sleeping to pay her return any heed.
With a soft groan, the doors to her quarters slid open. While modest in size, the small storage chamber was what she called home. The colonists were using Ledra's larger merchant class ship as living quarters ever since the Geth attacked. But despite the less than favourable circumstances leading to the colonists relocating, Shiala had never been more relieved to see a bed in her life. With an impatient huff, she kicked off her boots. She unzipped her suit and let it pool at her ankles before gingerly stepping the rest of the way out. With a heavy sigh, she fell face first on her bed. It had been a long trip. A few minutes passed in silence before she let out a painful groan; she remembered the colony's council meeting was scheduled for tomorrow. She hadn't intended being able to make it back to the colony in time.
Before long however Shiala felt the lures of sleep tugging at her consciousness. Everything faded away, only darkness kept her company; the quiet and the calm, even her own breath tickling her face stealthily left her senses.
They come. Their warmth spreads through the air. They are not like the cold ones. They are of ilk to the other. They too intrude with their profane individuality.
"Invaders, your every step are a transgression. A thousand feelers appraise you as meat: good only to dig or decompose. I speak for the Old Growth as I did for Saren. You are within and before the Thorian. It commands that you be in awe!"
Discourse has begun. Will they lie as the other? Are they of the same mettle as the cold ones?
"You enslaved the colonists, you destroyed their minds. I don't know what Saren wanted with you, but I just want you dead."
"The Thorian is a piece of this world; extending across the land and back through the ages. You can no more kill it than cut the sky. No more will the Thorian listen to those that scurry. Your lives are short, but have gone on too long already. Your blood will feed the ground and the new growth!"
With a gasp, Shiala shot out of bed. Her heart was hammering. She looked around wildly. But she was alone. She was always alone, in darkness.
The asari brought her knees to her chest, hugging them tightly as small sobs slowly inched their way past her lips.
The sun was leaking through the blinds of her makeshift lodging. Morning had once again come too soon. Shiala hadn't gotten much sleep. Memories from her time with the Thorian were frequently bleeding through into her dreams. Invading her thoughts when she was her most vulnerable was taking its toll on the asari. She wasn't sure how much longer she could keep up the act. Eventually, someone was bound to notice her irregular sleeping habits manifesting themselves physically.
But until then, Shiala would trudge on, shrugging off the discomfort. Her debts would be paid, no matter the cost. She'd had managed working on fumes before, during her time as a commando. She would do so again if that's all it took. Despite her general outlook on the matter, she couldn't quiet that voice in the back of her mind. For a while she'd paid it no heed, dismissing it as paranoia or noises. It didn't take long after she'd first noticed it for her to realise its abnormality however. She would catch herself listening to it for hours sometimes. Staring at nothing, taking in the soothing whispers; she knew it wasn't normal. But it was comforting. And whenever she thought she could make out what it was telling her, she would dream of the Thorian.
How the two were connected, she wasn't sure. She could only speculate the nature of the whispers as the remnants of her indoctrination at Sovereign's hands. Whatever control the Thorian had once had over her, seemingly cut off her link with the Reaper. At least, while the creature was alive it did. Now that it was gone, she could hear Saren and Sovereign again. But whenever they threatened her mind, whatever was left of the Thorian in her mind would reset the connection it seemed. While she held no doubt of her own mental fortitude, she knew her indoctrination was never debilitating thanks to whatever the Thorian did to her. And for that, she was grateful.
It disgusted Shiala that her indoctrination was only kept in check by another form of it. In her darker moments, she questioned her ability to be of help to anyone. But she had to discard those thoughts. If she gave in to them, then, and only then, was she truly lost and beyond redemption. She swore to herself that day would never come.
The asari snapped out of her reverie as a hand came slamming down on the desk in front of her.
"I'm sorry if this bores you, but know that this is very important!"
Shiala blinked a few moments, chasing her thoughts away, all the while straining to maintain her composure. She had no idea how she'd gotten to where she was. But with a quick glance around her, she recognised the council chambers.
With a long intake of breath, Shiala stole a glance at her omni-tool. The meeting had started some two hours ago already. She breathed out a heavy sigh, expertly masking her surprise.
"We've been going over the same point for hours and have yet to come to a resolution. I suggest a temporary recess for us to gather our thoughts and start again with fresher minds. I believe it would do us all some good," she said in a soft voice, ignoring the raging man in front of her.
Her proposition was met with a series of nods, and a hard glare from Ethan Jeong. The man had never been very supportive of progress, as much as he claimed otherwise. It seemed all he ever did was stir the pot. However, representing ExoGeni - the corporation funding the colony - his word carried the most weight in their weekly meetings. Shiala was particularly wary of him, as he had been one of those that allowed the continued existence of Zhu's Hope above the Thorian's lair. He had identified the inherent danger, and hadn't cared, opting to hide behind the corporation's banner, escaping all possible liability.
Shiala wasn't fond of cowards. And she liked the man even less today. With a rough first night, he certainly wasn't wasting time in making her life more difficult than she desired even if she hadn't been paying much attention to what he had been saying. She reviewed the council's daily overview for an idea of what was discussed.
After a brief review of the revisited contract, the council's meeting had taken to discussing the colony's electrical expenditure. According to Jeong, they were overzealous when it came to power consumption. He wanted to impose stricter policies regarding its usage until a more stable system could be implemented. Despite Shiala's dislike of the man, he had a point and they needed to be careful not to overtax the generators, little more than salvage at this point. They were still running on the fixes commander Shepard had provided all those years ago. ExoGeni had been stonewalling them for years. Despite their façade of taking care of the colony's most immediate concerns, they made little to no move to spend more money on it than they had to.
The truth of it all was that they could do little more than cross their fingers and hope Ledra would find better quality generators soon.
With a sigh, Shiala called for the meeting to resume. It was best to simply get things over with.
The sun had set already by the time the meeting was adjourned. Shiala's eyes were heavy. Her back was sore, and she could feel an incredible stiffness in her shoulders. It seemed rather obvious now why she never chose a desk job.
The way home at least, was quiet and soothing.
She didn't even have the energy to take off her clothes, instead opting to collapse on her bed as soon as she crossed the threshold of her abode.
With the lights dimmed, it looked even smaller than usual. Just a room with everything crammed together, Shiala had to admit she'd done better, but also worse. Her bed took up the entire wall facing the entrance. At the end of the bed, the room opened up into the pantry, where the cleaner took up the entire space. In the middle of the room was her multipurpose desk. She used it for almost everything from working to eating and relaxing. And sometimes, even to sleep. It was free, at least.
Their community being so small, everyone did what they could to make life comfortable for all. That was more than what could be said of anywhere else she'd lived. It had its downsides at times, what with ExoGeni and Jeong, but it also had its perks. At the end of the day, all they had was each other. She'd gladly lay her life on the life for any of the people who lived here. And she knew they'd do the same.
Maybe having a home wasn't so bad after all.
