A/N: I'm so amazed by all the views and feedback! Every time I start to dread updating, I remember how awesome you've all been! Thank you all so much!
After the sound of the cargo train's departure had faded, three people in smutched work clothes called Powell over to the top of the platform's stairs. He dithered for a moment, looking between them and the Nagai girl, before coaxing her to take his hand and leading her towards them. They fell to bickering almost immediately upon reaching comfortable talking range, leaving the girl to stand passively, awkwardly, just outside of their cluster.
A pained grunt drew her attention to Nihlus. He was trying to prop himself up against the damaged crate she'd settled on before, injured leg stretched out before him.
Piercing green eyes caught hers again. The turian lifted his right hand to her. "Help me sit up."
She hesitated, tucking flyaway whisps of brown hair behind her ears. The static had begun to release her mind, so she was able to understand him, but... "Should you move much?"
"So you can talk," Nihlus' mandibles tapped his jaw again. One of his brow plates shifted, and he shrugged. "Well, if you don't want to help, I'll just do it myself, then."
Her hand closed around his before he let it drop, and his mandibles flared out a little. Dismissing the thoughts of how strange his three-fingered hand felt, she put her other hand on his elbow to brace him as he levered himself into a sitting position. She flinched when he hissed quietly in pain.
"That's a bit better," said Nihlus. Then he took a closer look at his mangled leg. "Alenko did a good job, especially for a human field medic."
That's a 'good job?' thought Nagai. Nihlus' leg was no longer bending wrong, and it seemed to have been splinted by welding the turian's armour in place or something. But it still looked like something that had been in a trash compactor.
Nihlus started to push himself up onto the crate.
Alarmed, the girl held her hands out to stop him, but he'd gotten his uninjured leg underneath him already. Then he was trying to stand, but he overbalanced quickly and stumbled into her, nearly taking them both down.
"Hey, now!" Powell and the farmer woman managed to steady them before they could fall. One of the men tried to take Nihlus' other arm to let the girl get out from under his weight, but the turian jerked out of his grasp, almost toppling them again. They wobbled, and the farmers tried to offer support, and the girl had the impression that they'd look ridiculous if this were happening anywhere else because of how much shorter and smaller she was than the turian. The farmer told Nihlus, "You shouldn't be standing, sir! That medic said you needed to keep your leg as still as possible."
"What I need is to get to the spaceport," Nihlus growled. "Now."
"The soldiers took the cargo train," said Powell. "We can recall it from here, but it won't return unless they've already arrived and debarked, and even then it will take time!"
Nihlus gave a vicious snarl that vibrated through his armour and shook the girl's bones. The four humans stepped back, hands raised as if surrendering.
"I can get there."
Five pairs of eyes turned to the girl, and only one pair weren't falling out of their heads incredulously. Nagai immediately lowered her eyes.
"How?" demanded Nihlus, shifting his weight off her slightly to see her better.
The farmers and Powell began to protest, but the turian merely looked at them and they clammed right up. He turned back to the girl expectantly.
She took a deep breath, then glanced up. "Dad's skycar."
Why did I open my big mouth? This was a terrible idea! and I'm going to crash. We're going to die, were the foremost coherent thoughts in her head. Everything else was static and white noise.
"Up! Pull up!" yelped Nihlus. The turian was stretched out in the beat-up old X3M's passenger seat with the chair as far back as it could go to accommodate his inability to bend his right leg. He was also bracing himself against the bulkheads with his arms and uninjured left leg stiffly, since the harness wasn't adequately anchoring him to the seat.
Nagai recognised his instructions on some level, but this deep in the fog and static, she couldn't make her body obey them on time. A horrible wrenching sound filled the cabin.
"Right, that was a tree. Maybe try to avoid those, yes?" said Nihlus. Under his breath, he muttered, "This was possibly a mistake."
She wished she could tell him, Nooo, you think? but her teeth were locked together, and her jaw muscles refused to relax. Her seat, the pilot's seat, was shoved as far forward as it could go, and she sat rigidly in it, the harness straps cinched all the way.
If only they'd been able to convince Powell to drive. Or Blake. Or Cole. Or the woman, whatever her name was.
She jerked her hands across the haptic interface, just as Nihlus yelled at her, "Cliff!"
But no! They'd refused, point-blank. "Not shuttle pilots," they'd said. Didn't want to head into more danger was more likely. Not that she could blame them. It was only when they'd literally walked away, and Nihlus had started trying to get himself into the pilot's seat that she had stepped in. Nihlus had forced her hand. What am I doing?
"What are you doing! Get lower!" The turian grunted as his head hit the skycar's ceiling. "Steady, even out. If we're too high, that massive ship could decide we're a threat!"
Shit, Sovereign! The skycar's sudden lurch sideways flung Nihlus against the door. "Watch it! You sure you know how to fly this thing?"
If that mattered so much, why did you drag me along and not one of the others?
Between the extreme anxiety of operating the shuttle without the soothing, solid presence of her father – no, stop that, don't think about it – and the volume of the turian's directions, Nagai's headache was worsening. It was getting to the point at which she'd be likely to lose the next day or so in recovery.
"There's the spaceport!" said Nihlus, taking the risk of pointing with one hand. He slammed it angrily back into place against the bulkhead. "Damn him! That's got to be Saren's shuttle leaving now!"
"Do we follow?" The words were out before she could think them through – again! Where is my voice when I actually need it? – but she knew without a doubt that haring after Saren would be the worst possible choice. Not least because that would mean approaching the Reaper.
It took Nihlus a worrying moment to reply. "No. Remain on course for the spaceport," he said, his voice clipped. After another couple thundering heartbeats, he added, "I can't face him now and expect to survive. I shouldn't have survived at the train station."
The girl didn't know how to respond to that. It was too close to being an admission of fear, but also very nearly a thank-you, all wrapped up in a heap of grief, frustration, and betrayal.
As the skycar drew closer to the spaceport, she and Nihlus could see the lights of many geth platforms, and the erratic flashes that signalled battle. Then the Commander's squad came into view, on a walkway in cover around a large device.
Oh, that's bad, that's only the second – the bottom dropped out of her stomach as the sensation of vertigo rolled over her like a wave. Her feet slid off the pedals limply as she dry-heaved, and the skycar shuddered ominously.
"Kid? Hey, kid!" Nihlus grabbed her shoulder, fear and concern making his grip painful and vice-like. "Get a hold of yourself!"
She couldn't tell if the skycar was actually spinning or if it was just her head, but closing her eyes didn't help. Swiping away a string of drool and bile with shaking hands, the girl jammed her feet back on the pedals and tried very hard to convince the old shuttle to right itself. The dashboard told her the best she could hope for was an emergency landing.
Absurdly, a grin tugged at the corners of her mouth. "I'm a leaf on the wind," she mumbled. "Watch how I soar."
"What are you ta – what are you doing!" howled Nihlus, bracing himself as best he could.
The X3M was aimed more-or-less directly at a group of geth platforms in good cover. From where Shepard's squad was firing at them, anyway. Warning lights painted the inside of the cabin with reds and yellows as alarm horns filled the silence.
At what she hoped was the right moment, the girl stabbed savagely at one of the flashing buttons and gestured sharply over the haptic interface.
The groan of straining metal drowned out the warning horns for a moment as the skycar spun 180°, putting it's main propulsion drive towards the geth in an attempt to slow their momentum enough. Just before impact, the girl forced the skycar to power down.
There was an almighty crunching of metal, then a great squeal as the skycar slid across the platform. They were jolted against their harnesses, and abruptly crushed back into their seats before they sagged against the straps.
The vehicle had stopped moving. They hadn't died.
Sounds of battle continued outside, muted and distant. Nagai heard Nihlus groan and begin to fumble for his harness's release. She couldn't even begin to think about moving, much less trying to get out of the skycar; everything ached, her head most of all, it still felt like the vehicle was being shook like a snowglobe, and the sour taste of bile wasn't helping her throat feel any less shredded.
But the straps were digging into her shoulders across a couple of particularly deep bruises, and quickly became more than she could stand, on top of everything else. With leaden hands, she grasped the release catch and fell forward onto the dark dashboard.
Nihlus croaked something that made the translator glitch. He cleared his throat and tried again, "Nice flying."
"Thanks," she rasped back with thoughtless snark. "I was winging it."
The turian made a strange sound somewhere between a hiss and a cough, then groaned again. "Don't make me laugh, it hurts too much!"
I didn't think the pun would translate, mused the girl dazedly. She closed her eyes against everything for a moment.
Someone pounded on Nihlus' side's door. The arm that knocked was striped with red and white, stark against black armour.
The skycar's doors slid open in fitful starts.
"Nihlus, so help me, I will shoot out your other knee and strap you to the gurney myself," growled Shepard. "How did you even..." Then she got a look at the girl in the pilot's seat.
A/N: I love reviews! Even ones that just say, "Pretty good," because they let me know that there are people who do want to read it!
To those who've speculated on the possible romances: I didn't reply to your reviews (I'm sorry!) because I haven't actually decided what will happen in that regard. But I would like to mention that I am somewhere on the spectrum of aro-ace, and it's definitely going to affect the SI character, along with some of my childhood... traumas (I can't think of a better word than that, but it feels incomplete).
To the guest Awesomesause: While the italicised flashes of memories sound similar to what drell go through during their recollections, the SI character is not a drell (she has hair, for one thing). I've been trying to write in a way that simulates how human memories tend to be in images and impressions and snatches of other senses, while also staying succinct. I'll keep trying to perfect that.
A huge thanks my three betaditors! Even when they're busy with their own lives, they take the time to help me!