Docking at the Citadel brought the ship status to yellow and Catherine was at her station and unable to witness the view as they approached. Looking forward to that sight had kept her sane for the past hours as she watched over the Major.
As they flew away from the Widow relay, a stunningly gorgeous asari had come to relive her of her watch. Catherine had left as the asari, who had introduced herself as Liara, had begun gently stripping the Major of the more bulky parts of his armour in preparation for transport to a Citadel hospital.
Catherine found herself dwelling on Major Alenko's condition. She feared his survival hinged on her less than adequate medical skills. Furthering her sense of guilt was the fact that she knew him. Somehow that simple fact made it harder to accept that there had been little she could do for him.
The Commander was at the airlock, pacing like a caged beast, waiting for the ships internal pressure to match the exterior atmosphere. Catherine played a part in that task and hurried her fingers at the controls to ease the tension mounting in the CIC.
Finally the airlock opened and a team of medics rushed in with a hovering gurney in tow.
"This way," the Commander said sharply, and they hurried along behind her to the elevator.
Catherine anxiously stared at the yellow light, waiting for it to turn green. She heard the elevator open again and the medics came tearing through the CIC. Catherine wiped her head around to watch them go by. Their panicked words didn't make her feel any better about the Major's prospects.
Finally the light turned green and Catherine ripped off her harness. But before she could get out of her seat the light flashed several times and returned to yellow. With a sigh of exasperation she slumped back into the chair.
"EDI, when will I be able to leave my post?" Catherine asked to the air, knowing that EDI was always listening.
"You may leave when you wish, Catherine," EDI replied. "If you wish to go ashore I can provide you with directions to the nearest Alliance office or the human embassy. I must say though that you are a skilled technician and your presence here will be sorely missed."
"Oh, I intend to stay, EDI," Catherine reassured her. "I just really want to get a look at the Citadel. This is my first time outside the Sol system."
"I am pleased to hear you'll be staying," EDI said, with a tone that implied true pleasure.
"EDI, are you sure you're a VI?" Catherine asked curiously. "You're very expressive for a non-sentient construct."
EDI did not respond right away and when she did it was on a different topic.
"The flashing green you just saw was an indication of a watch change. Were the ship fully staffed, someone would take your place and you would be free to enjoy your off-duty hours. However, since there is currently no one to replace you, I will be taking over your duties while we are docked."
"Thanks, EDI," Catherine said, not bothering to delve into the other questions she had for the VI.
She hopped out of her seat just as Morgan climbed from hers. Clearly she'd just had a similar conversation with EDI. Catherine smiled at her friend and Morgan smiled back, but the expression didn't reach beyond the curve of their lips. Neither was truly happy.
"You staying?" Morgan asked.
"Yeah. You?"
"Fuck yeah," Morgan said emphatically. "If what we saw wasn't some cruel dream then I'm itching for some payback. Figure this is the best place to get it."
"Want to go take a look?" Catherine asked, gesturing with her head towards the bridge.
"Also, fuck yeah," Morgan said with a more real smile and they joined Joker on the bridge.
"Hey girls," Joker amiably. "I guess it's too much to hope that you came for the view inside and not out there."
"You know we love you, Jeff," Catherine said looking past him through the windows. "But yeah, we're here for the view out there. Can't really see much though..."
Catherine trailed off as she climbed up the bulkhead to get a better look out the window. It didn't do much good. All she could see was a seemingly endless line of docks. She dropped back down to the deck.
"So, uh, how do things like shore leave work?" she asked Joker.
"Beats me," he responded with a shrug. "I never take any."
"What he means to say is that a rota hasn't been worked out yet."
Catherine turned to find Lieutenant Vega standing near the open airlock, his bulk nearly filling the space.
"Normally shore leave would be worked out by the XO," Vega said. "But seeing as we don't have one I'm going to say no shore leave until we get things figured out."
"Thank," Catherine said and tried to give him a friendly smile.
Truth was, the huge man made her nervous. Somehow, out of his armour he seemed ever bigger. His grey t-shirt might as well have been painted on it clung to his muscled frame so tightly. Bulging biceps kept his arms from hanging at his sides and he seemed to be flexing despite the fact that he was quite relaxed.
"A word, Hogan," he said and beckoned her over.
Catherine had to fall back on her few days at boot camp and remind herself that he was a superior officer before she could convince her legs to take her over to him.
She followed him towards the open airlock and into the tunnel that connected them to the station. The Lieutenant stopped and turned to face her. It wasn't until then that Catherine saw the deep scaring on his right cheek and chin. It didn't make him seem any less fearsome.
"Listen, chica," he said, rubbing the nape of his neck uncomfortably. "I owe you an apology."
"What for, sir?" she asked.
"Hey, hey, no need for formality here."
"Okay," Catherine said nervously, dropped the honourific and asked again. "What for?"
"For shouting at you," he said contritely. "It was out of a line for a whole bunch of reasons."
Suddenly the man didn't seem quite as intimidating.
"Since when do officers apologize for shouting?" Catherine asked, raising a brow at the him.
"Hey, I'm being nice here," he said with a blush.
"Yes, you are," Catherine said. She felt something other than terror and anguish for a moment and touched him softly on the arm to show it. "No harm done."
"So, uh, you stickin' around, chica?" he said, not quite meeting her eye.
"I am, yeah," Catherine replied, feeling proud that she could say it with such finality.
"Sweet," he said. "Maybe I will too."
He started to walk away.
"You might not?" Catherine called after him.
"You want me to, chica?" he said, turning to walk backwards so he could look at her.
"I just can't believe anyone would leave," she said.
"We'll see."
"Where are you going, anyway?" she shouted as he got further away. "I thought you said no shore leave?"
"To find the Commander and give her the good news," he called back.
"There's good news? I could use some of that."
He gave her a sloppy, mock salute and marched on to the end of the tunnel. Catherine watched until he disappeared through the docking hatch at the end and then went back inside the ship feeling confused by her conversation with the hulking man.
Morgan was waiting for her and they turned to walk back into the centre of the ship together.
"What was that?" Morgan asked.
"He wanted to say sorry for verbally assaulting me earlier," Catherine explained.
"He's hot," Morgan quipped. "He can assault me any day."
"You think he's hot?"
"In a jar head, muscle bound kinda way. You don't?"
Catherine brought up an image of the Lieutenant in her mind's eye. The scruff on his chin and the fauxhawk cresting his head were appealing. There was no denying he had a spectacular body. And his hazel eyes had something in them. A sort of boyish charm that seemed at odds with his hardened soldier exterior.
"Yeah, he's a good looking guy," Catherine conceded.
"Good looking?" Morgan said with a little laugh. "Are you into girls?"
"You're the second person to ask me that this month," Catherine said defensively. "Why do people think I'm a lesbian?"
"Because you just told me you think that man is 'good looking'." Morgan quote in the air as she said it.
"Okay, fine he's ridiculously hot," she said, throwing her arms in the air.
"Say it like you mean it," Morgan said with a laugh.
Her laughter stopped abruptly and Catherine could see on her face that her mind had just brought her back to Earth.
"You ever lost someone close to you?" Catherine asked suddenly.
"Yeah. Why?" Morgan asked.
"Because it's not until you lose someone that you realize how adaptable we are," Catherine said, leaning on the railing surrounding the galaxy map. "We're designed to overcome tragedy and loss quickly. But even as laughter heals we feel guilty for doing it."
"I can't laugh," Morgan said as she held her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking ever so slightly. "Not while my parents are still on Earth. And my brother. He was in Philadelphia."
Catherine took a step towards her and wrapped her arms around her friend. Morgan pulled her hands from her face and put them around Catherine's waist and lay her head on her shoulder, tears coursing down her cheeks to soak her friend's shirt.
"Cry now and then dry your eyes," Catherine said soothingly. "The Commander is right. We have to stay strong, because wallowing in misery won't do anyone any good. If laughter makes you feel better, then you have to laugh. It's not wrong."
Even as she said it she knew that the words weren't just for Morgan. They were for herself as well, and the many people in the CIC able to hear their conversation. She hoped it would do them some good as well. Each and every one of them could use the encouragement.
Her thoughts returned to her mother and Catherine had to bite back her own tears as she held Morgan close. Eventually the smaller woman's tears seemed to run out and she pulled away, rubbing at her eyes as she did.
"Thanks, Cat," she said, her voice horse. "Not sure I can manage to feel good about anything without feeling guilty, but I see where you're coming from."
Samantha Traynor came up beside them and placed a sympathetic hand on Morgan's shoulder.
"Wise words, Catherine," she said with a smile that she somehow made to seem actually happy. "Listen, I thought I'd suggest that we go claim some space in the crew quarters before the new staff come aboard."
"Good idea," Catherine said and followed Samantha to the elevator.
Several people were there already, laying claim to lockers and bunks. Ivan, who the three woman barely knew because he'd been working mostly in engineering, gave them a run down on the situation.
"Right now there's enough bunks for everyone, but once we get new crew we're going to have to share."
"Even though we have sleeper pods?" Morgan said incredulously.
"Those are meant to be shared," Ivan said. "Not everyone can sleep in a public room."
"Wow, I hadn't even thought of that," Catherine said, chewing on her lower lip.
"How many people will have to share?" Samantha asked.
"My guess is at least two people to a bunk," Ivan said. "Depends on how many people actually want to use the crew quarters."
"Just so we're clear." Morgan raised a hand to silence Ivan. "We're talking shifts, right? Not two people at a time."
Catherine laughed. Really and truly laughed. It felt good. So good she felt a rush of emotion that nearly brought her to tears.
"You twit!" She slapped Morgan on the back. "Of course he means shifts."
Morgan glared at Catherine who was still chuckling. Samantha began to giggle as well and soon the three of them were laughing hysterically. Catherine collapsed to the floor and sat cross legged, holding her stomach while she laughed, no sound coming from her mouth.
Ivan could only stare at the three women in utter bafflement. The other people in the room stopped what they were doing and couldn't contain their own mirthful smiles and raised eyebrows.
Finally, they managed to reduce the insane laugher to the occasional giggle.
"That felt good," Samantha said when she caught her breath at last.
Catherine nodded her agreement and leaned back on the locker behind her.
"Sometimes a situation is so fucked up that all you can do is either laugh or cry," she said quietly. "It's always better to laugh."
The ache in her chest was still there, tugging at the cords of her very being, but at the same time she felt lighter, more able to draw breath. And she felt hungry for the first time in nearly a day.
She could tell by the look on Morgan's face that her friend felt the same way. Her jaw was a little more relaxed. Her eyes a little brighter and more animated. Samantha too seemed to breathe a sigh of relief before the pained look of grief returned to her face.
"I've got an idea," Catherine said. "How about the three of us call dibs on a bunk? That way we know who are sharing with. I get the feeling I might be more inclined towards a pod anyway, and we can't all be on duty the same watches all the time."
The girls went with her idea and they chose a top bunk in the back left corner of the room. It seemed like the one with the most privacy, and the hum of the drive core would mask most other noise in the room.
Morgan found a marker in her pack and wrote their names on the side of the bunk. Ivan laughed at them and said Joker would be pissed if he found out she'd defaced his ship. In response, Morgan took the marker out again and wrote beneath it Bite me, Joker.
The galley in the mess hall seemed small and cramped with the three of them working in it and eventually Catherine kicked them both out and set to work making a rice and chicken dish she remembered the recipe for.
They were just tucking in, steaming wafting tantalizingly from their bowls, when Joker joined them.
"Joker, I don't think I've ever seen you anywhere else on the ship before," Catherine said.
"A guy's gotta eat sometime." He stared at the bowl of food in front of Catherine and she could practically see the drool dripping from his chin.
She pushed her bowl across the table to him and got up to get another for herself. He'd already devoured half his bowl when she returned to the table.
"Fan oo," he said around an enormous mouthful of rice.
"You're welcome. Now don't talk anymore," she said, thinking her own meal didn't look as appetizing when the same dish was being devoured so disgustingly across from her.
Joker swallowed and looked like he was about to release a belch, but a look from Catherine convinced him it would be unwise and instead he stretched.
"Good food," he said, taking off his hat to rub at his reddish brown hair which was plastered permanently down. "So, Cat. Shepard just messaged from the hospital. She wanted me to tell you Kaidan made it. He's still out, but his doctors seem to think he'll be alright. I don't know what you did, but thanks."
"I hardly did anything," Catherine said, basking in the praise from the Commander nonetheless. "I just kept an eye on his life signs while we were in transit."
"Well, she was glad to hear you're sticking around," Joker said. "Oh and she said she's probably going to be a while talking to the Council so we can all take a bit of shore leave."
"Actually," EDI voice sounded above them. "What the commander said was that she would like everyone to visit the Alliance requisitions office to purchase anything they need. Also, she arranged for a significant increase to typical allowance given how hastily we were forced to leave Earth."
"Shore leave, requisitions office, same difference," Joker said with a carefree shrug.
"Jeff, if you are going to convey messages, please ensure you get them right," EDI chided.
Joker opened and closed his hand like a beak and mouthed blah, blah, blah as EDI spoke.
"I can see you, Jeff," EDI said. Catherine was sure she could hear a hint of annoyance in the VI's voice.
EDI continued with the rest of the message. "The Commander has arranged for an escort for you as well as access passes to allow you to visit to Persidium Commons. Her only request is that for the time being no one go down to the Wards."
"I think we can handle that," Catherine said. "When can we go?"
"Shortly," EDI replied. "The new additions to the crew will arrive within the half hour and then you may leave. I suggest that you make use of the Alliance facilities while on the station. Water rationing will be altered drastically once we have a full compliment."
Excitement rose in Catherine as she realized she would be stepping out on to the Citadel, the heart of the galaxy. Working for the Alliance she'd seen many aliens before, even briefly dated a drell, but she'd never been anywhere that the alien population outnumbered humans.
She'd never understood the prejudices that some people felt towards other species. Somehow, she's always thought of them all as human. Or rather, all the same. Earth was home to so many different cultures that the concept seemed easy to grasp. There were some people on Earth whose beliefs and lifestyles seemed more alien to her than any turian or asari she'd ever met.
EDI insisted on a degree of ceremony as the new crew members came aboard. Catherine was introduced by her new title of Chief Life Support Technician and felt embarrassed by the salutes she received from the marines and staff as they came aboard.
She was given charge of a young Asian women and an older man with greying hair. She'd never had anyone work under her before and was unsure what to do with them. Luckily the man had served on several ships and knew the drill. Without a hint of insubordination, the man asked if he could stow his gear and take a tour of the ship.
EDI interjected an offered to show them around. Gratefully, Catherine told them to settle in and get their bearings and said she would work out a shift rota with their deck officer when she returned.
She and Morgan left the ship together, each of them trying to keep a straight face as they marched down the tunnel to the hatchway. As soon are the door closed behind them Catherine let her professional demeanour drop. She ran a hand through her long hair, shaking it out of the tight bun she kept it in while aboard the ship.
"How the crap did we end up in charge of anything?" she said.
"Well, the Commander did have a point," Morgan said, looking a bit shell-shocked herself. "Us techs know the ship inside and out. But I don't get why she didn't replace me. You staying I get. Life support is pretty straight forward. Keep everyone breathing. But shields... I may know how to read and write the code, but maintaining them in a firefight? I don't know, Cat. This is a little much."
"I get it," Catherine told her. "And you just answered the questions yourself. You wrote the coding. Yeah, there's an Alliance standard, but the Normandy's unique. It would take weeks to bring another tech up to speed."
Morgan didn't look convinced, but the Alliance escort arrived and there was no more time for Catherine to spend trying to ease her friend's worries.
The man sent to lead them didn't seemed pleased with his duty and when Catherine stopped dead in her tracks when presented with her first view of the station he sighed dramatically and tapped his foot impatiently.
As Catherine stared out the glass wall, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the railing, vertigo assailed her and her head swam. Ships of all shapes and sizes drifted past, dwarfed by the grandeur of the wards arms extending out kilometres into the distance. The white-blue light of the Widow Nebula bathed everything, bring the silhouettes of pinnacle like skyscrapers and elegant domes into sharp focus.
"Holy crap," Morgan whispered beside her.
"Yeah," Catherine managed.
"Did I say holy crap already?" Morgan said a moment later.
"Yeah," Catherine breathed.
Their escort called for their attention, but it was a futile attempt. The six other crew members with them were also standing along the railing staring out at the vista, their mouths slack and eyes wide.
The Normandy, stretched out in front of them, was more than dwarf by the station. Catherine's mind searched for the right word to describe the size of what she was looking at. Immense, gigantic, gargantuan, colossal. None of them seemed right. None of them implied the scale of the Citadel or the emotion of seeing it for the first time.
Finally, Catherine turned away from the railing feeling overwhelmed and intimidated by the scope of it all. Just as she couldn't find the right word for the station, she couldn't find a way express how tiny and insignificant she now felt.
Humans tended to feel shafted by Council decisions, like they somehow deserved more attention, but seeing this made Catherine realize how wrong that opinion was. One Ward arm alone was probably more of a challenge to govern than all of Earth.
For the first time she wondered if the Council would answer their call for aid. How could they do anything for one little planet when soon the entire galaxy would be crying out in panic.
When the escort finally got everyone's attention, Catherine followed meekly behind him, saying nothing and looking nowhere. She'd never been shy, but suddenly she was scared to make eye contact with any of the beings they passed. Even when they encountered an elcor in an elevator, Catherine kept her eyes on the floor.
It was with relief that she stepped inside the Alliance requisitions office. The room was large and filled with shelves of Alliance issue goods and the only window looked out on the busy corridor almost entirely filled with uniformed human soldiers. It felt a lot more like home and Catherine began to relax.
She and Morgan sorted through the available clothing, finding their sizes in everything from shirts and sweaters to boots and underwear. Shepard had indeed managed to increase their allowance and Catherine was shocked to find that she still had several hundred credit remaining when she piled her new gear on the counter.
The female officer attending them suggested Catherine stock up on things like toothpaste and soap while she was there. She seemed to know that this was Catherine's first tour of duty and was kind and helpful as she went through her inventory with her making suggestions.
Their belongings packed away in footlockers being piled on a skid for transport to the Normandy, Catherine and Morgan made their way down the corridor to the next Alliance builing where they took showers and had their uniforms laundered.
As they relaxed together in the steamy change room, Catherine dragged her fingers through her tangled hair and lamented that she had forgotten to bring a comb with her.
"This is why I keep my hair short," Morgan said, wincing in sympathy as Catherine worked at a particularly stubborn knot.
"I haven't cut my hair in almost eight years," Catherine said. "It's just about the only thing I like about my body."
"I hate to be the bearer of bad news then, but you're probably going to have to cut it."
"What!" Catherine exclaimed. "Not a chance."
"We aren't going to have the luxury of twenty minute showers once we undock." Morgan undid her towel and lay back naked on the stone ledge. "And you aren't going to have half an hour to brush and braid that mane."
Catherine realized Morgan was right. Every other Alliance solider she'd ever seen had short hair, shoulder length at the longest. As a tech she'd never been required to adhere to a dress code and hadn't even thought about how that was going to change now that she was permanent crew on the Normandy.
But as she thought about it, she remembered something. In her youth she'd been deeply fascinated by ancient Egyptian culture. She'd felt a particular draw to many of their beliefs and customs. She conveniently ignored the fact that among those antediluvian people it had been common practice for brothers and sisters and fathers and daughters to marry, and focused particularly on their views on life and death.
Death had been a subject of much study by the Egyptians. They sought not only to understand it, but also to rule over it. Make it a less painful and scaring event. As a result many traditions and rituals followed any passing, from the death of a pet to the death of a Pharaoh.
For seventy days following a death they wore only blue, their colour of mourning. Alliance colours that she would now where day in and day out. And when they lost someone, especially someone close, they cut off all their hair.
"Let's find a hairdresser," Catherine said abruptly.
Morgan sat up on one elbow. "Seriously?"
Catherine nodded but offered no explanation.
Once their clothes were dry they dressed and asked the man at the front desk where they could find a hairdresser. He told them that someone there could do it for them for free, but Catherine decline. If she was going to let someone chop off all her luxurious locks, it was going to be someone she'd never see again.
He sent them back the way they had come and they stopped several floors above the docking area and stepped out onto a crowded promenade filled with shops and kiosks selling clothes, jewellery and even pets.
Thankfully there was no view outside and nothing distracted Catherine as they wove their way through the throngs of people to the shop that had been suggested to them.
Inside, a bored looking asari sat in one of her barber chairs, flipping through the glossy pages of a magazine on her datapad.
When she realized she had customers she hopped to her feet, grinning at them.
"What can I do for you today?" the asari asked cheerfully. "Want your hair dyed purple for the Crosshairs game tonight? I can do a mean set of liberty spikes if you want."
"Just a haircut please," Catherine said. She found the asari's cheerful mood almost sickening. Had people here not heard about Earth yet? Did they not know how much danger they were in?
Morgan stood at the door watching from a distance as the asari stood over Catherine and chatted endlessly. She sprayed something in Catherine's hair and then pulled a brush through it easily, the tangles falling away under her experienced touch.
"Oh, I just love this," the asari exclaimed. "I wish there were more humans around here. There's only so much you can so with an asari scalp. Dyes and patterns and even some piercing, but this..." She flipped Catherine's hair up and sighed with contentment. "I mean look at it all. And so soft and curly! Humans are so lucky. I wish I had hair. So what am I doing today? A little off the ends? Maybe some lowlights, though it's beautifully done already."
"Cut it all off," Catherine said, her voice even and as calm as she could make it.
"I'm sorry. What did you say?"
"I said cut it all off," Catherine said more harshly than she'd intended. "Sorry, I didn't mean to sound so angry."
She tried to explain the situation to the asari who made sounds of sympathy and made no more comments about the loveliness of Catherine's hair.
Catherine stared hard at herself in the mirror as the asari cut away her hair bit by bit. Curly clumps of it, over two feet long, feel to the floor around the chair, like bits of discarded silk. Not another word was spoken as the asari worked, her face serious and eyes blank.
When the job was done, Catherine ran her hand over the little that remained. The back was buzzed short and was like furry stubble under her fingers. The top was a little longer, no more than two inches, and curled slightly, framing her oval face and revealing the many hoops lining the lobes of both her ears.
The asari pulled away the cloth draped over Catherine's shoulders and offered her hand to help her out of the seat. Feeling unsteady Catherine accepted and held back tears as she stepped over the remains of her curls.
Her thoughts went back to the people of Earth and as she stood looking at her new self in the floor the ceiling mirror at the front of the shop, she vowed to do everything in her power to stop their pain and suffering. To take the Reaper motherfuckers out one at a time until the galaxy was rid of their pestilence.
Before the snarl she'd buried could find its way to the surface she turned away from the mirror and looked at the asari, whose smiles had faded to a blank look of confusion.
"What do I owe you?" Catherine asked.
"Owe me?" the asari said. She reached below her desk and pulled out a velvety bag and passed it to Catherine. "You owe me nothing. Keep this. I don't usually give them out to anyone but asari, but... Well, it's for luck. I feel like you'll need it."
"Thanks." Catherine tucked the bag away in her pocket and left the shop.
Thankfully, Morgan made no comment and they made it back to the docking bay with little trouble and no conversation. An aggressive woman wearing the skimpy black and white uniform of an Alliance News Network reporter accosted them, but a dark look from Catherine sent her elsewhere and they boarded the ship without further incident.
Exhaustion had crept up on both of them and they flipped a coin to see who would get the bunk. Catherine won and let Morgan had the bunk anyway. Silently, eyes downcast, she made her way through the mess and up the stairs leading to the forward battery.
She stowed her boots on a shelf beside a pod near the end of the hall and climbed inside. There was more room than she'd expected and the gravity was heavier inside, pulling her back into the padded cushion. The pod tilted slightly and she tinted the glass so that no one could see her and then toyed with the audio until she found a sound that would ease her into sleep.
Wind sighed through spruce trees and rain fell fitfully against invisible window panes and she closed her eyes and pretended she was back in her childhood bedroom on a chilly autumn night.
She was fast asleep when the ship undocked and left the station several hours later. She slept soundly until they neared the relay and EDI woke her, asking her to return to her station.
They were heading for Palaven.
