Chapter 9: Playing at Soldiers
Five was also fifteen: Junior was five years old now and it had been fifteen years since the Battle of the Catalyst. Fifteen was an important number in turian culture, but seemingly unremarkable for humans. There had been a statue of Shepard commissioned in London for the five year mark. The Normandy had been turned into a museum in Vancouver for the ten year mark. But the news vids said very little about the fifteenth anniversary, save for brief reminder that it was exactly that and an official quote from the retired Admiral Hackett reminding everyone to remember the sacrifices of the War, never forget those who lost their lives in the fight against the Reapers, etc.
It was also Junior's first day of school. Garrus had dropped her off apprehensively and waited out the entire day at his workbench, fiddling with the mantis prototype to keep his mind distracted. It had occurred to him that the Devlons were affluent enough that they had probably paid for some in-vitro genetic manipulations on Junior, but he had no idea what genes, exactly, they may have changed. Well, he was fairly certain her intelligence was above average, but he preferred to believe that was nurture rather than nature. Still, he was eager to see what her aptitude scores were like nonetheless.
When he picked her up from the school, he assumed that the crumpled piece of paper she thrust into his talons would be her test results. A little strange, he thought, but maybe it was customary to print the results on traditional paper rather than transmit them via datapad? But what was even stranger was that the paper did not appear to have any test scores on it at all. Instead, Garrus found himself staring at a frowning blue pointy thing standing tall over a smaller brown thing. Someone—it must have been a teacher—had written "My Family by Adrienna, age 5" along the top of the page.
"That's you," said Junior, pointing at the blue thing. "And then that's me."
"Well, obviously," Garrus said, ruffling her (now) short black hair with his talons. She grinned at him and bounded off to catch a few more minutes on the swings.
Lynn Williams was there picking up sons as well. He wandered over to her with the paper in his talons.
"So…" he tried to ask casually, "when do they send us the aptitude test results?"
She turned to him and laughed…again.
"It's just kindergarten, Arterius. Geez."
"There's no aptitude tests then?" he said, frowning. Then, he remembered that was exactly how Junior had drawn him, so he tried to relax his mandibles a little into more of a smile-ish shape.
"Nope," said Lynn. "There'll be report cards in later grades, but I think the aptitude tests you're talking about aren't until high school."
"Oh. Hmm."
When he fell into silence as he tried to comprehend the strangeness of the humans' so-called education system, Lynn watched him for a moment. Then, she muttered something.
"Sorry, what?" asked Garrus.
She grinned at him.
"'The father of a daughter is nothing but a high-class hostage.' It's…something Dad used to say. You know, since he was surrounded by daughters all the time. I think he got it from one of those twentieth-century radio shows he used to listen to," she smiled warmly at Garrus. "Radio and poetry…yup, Dad was a bit old-fashioned."
Garrus didn't know what radio was—some kind of human art form he guessed.
"What does it mean?"
"Hmm?"
"What you said. About hostages. What do you mean?"
"Oh, well…I was just thinking that Dad used to say it all the time, but I don't think even he embodied it quite as much as you do."
He raised his brow plates at her, which made her burst out laughing.
"That kid has you totally wrapped around her finger."
He frowned.
"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"
Lynn shrugged.
"Oh, a good thing. I didn't mean to imply that Adrienna is spoiled or anything…just that, well, you'd do anything for her, right?" She turned to watch the children. "Wow. Look at them go."
He followed Lynn's gaze over to where Junior and twins were playing. They ran up to each other and touched the pads of their fingers together lightly: networking to exchange basic "how are yous?"
Alex, the more commanding of the boys, was pointing at his brother John.
"John'll be Vega, okay?"
"Yeah!" said John, flexing. The sum-total of John was probably smaller than one of Vega's arms, at least when Garrus had known him.
"I get to be Wrex!" shouted Junior.
"No," said Alex. "You gotta be Shepard."
Junior frowned. And so did Garrus.
"Why?" she demanded. "I don't wanna be Shepard. I wanna be Wrex!"
"You gotta be Shepard 'cause you're the only girl!"
"I don't care! I'm the best at headbutting. Roooooaaarrr!" Junior yelled, charging across the park with her chin bent down to her chest.
Garrus was fairly certain Junior had never met a krogan before. Along with the quarians, they were some of the rarer left-behinds. Garrus had no idea where she had heard of krogans, let alone Wrex specifically. School? Vids? But, as she play-rammed her forehead into Alex, he couldn't help but chuckled to himself, thinking that Wrex would have admired her form.
"Fine!" said Alex, caving under the pressure of her forehead against his chest. "You be Wrex. I'll be the Shepard." Then, he pointed across the playground to where that little asari girl was waiting for her mother to arrive. "Look! It's a Reaper! Attack!"
"Get it!" shouted John, with Junior roaring not far behind as the three of them charged across the grass.
There was something perverse in watching these children play at something that had once been so real for him. Lynn must have seen the look on his face because she smiled apologetically.
"They went to that museum in the harbour over the weekend. So all Alex has talked about since is Shepard this and Shepard that."
It took a moment for Garrus to realize that by "museum in the harbour," she meant the Normandy.
"How was it?" he asked conversationally.
"Huh?"
"The museum? What was it like?"
"Oh! Well, uh, I didn't go. Jay took them. I couldn't, really…" She dropped her voice. "My oldest sister…she served on the Normandy, you know. Under Shepard, even. Not for as long as some of the others, but, still…I just couldn't handle seeing it, you know?"
Garrus knew what was supposed to happen next. He was supposed to feign shock and admiration for her sister's prestigious career. He was supposed to ask her what had happened to her sister. But he knew exactly what had happened to Ashley Williams. He had been there. And he didn't feel much like reliving those moments through the grief of Ash's sister. So instead he looked away and called out to Junior that it was time to walk home.
"I understand what you mean," he said softly, barely glancing at Lynn.
Junior came skidding up to him.
"Daddy Garrus! I wanna go see the Normandy too! Please! John and Alex got to see it! They sat in the pilot's seat and everything! Please!"
The urgency of her request took him by surprise, since Junior so rarely demanded much of anything. She was usually so quiet and thoughtful, thinking over everything before she decided to speak. Clearly, she must have really wanted this. Garrus glanced over at Lynn's face: she tried to smile, but he could tell by how it didn't touch her eyes that she was still thinking about her sister. Fifteen years was a long time. It ought to be long enough. He realized that he needed to prove to himself that he could do this.
"Hmm. Okay. We'll go check it out."