"What the...?" Verity says.
"I know! Impressive, isn't it? Some of our handy work. They consistently grow this size." Miranda says, holding up a watermelon sized tomato.
"Wait a minute... is that off a vine? Is it...?"
"Cherry tomato, yes! Though that's not all we grow here." she says with a little pride. "We've converted some of the side labs into hydroponic 'farms'. Despite being stuck out here, we've eaten well for the last thirty years or so."
"Wow! The whole fleet could be fed with harvests like that!" Verity says.
"Indeed." Samara agrees. "Impressive."
"The fleet? Anyway." Miranda says. "Ori's making us some dinner if you'd like to join us?"
"You've been very generous. Thank you, Miranda."
"Yes, you have been most welcoming."
"It's only manners. I hope they haven't gone from the galaxy yet!"
"Unfortunately," Samara informs her, "the galaxy has not changed in that regard. There are still those who are too brutish to appreciate a kind word or friendly gesture. You and your sister are quite... how should I say... naïve?"
"Is that supposed to be insulting?" Miranda says.
"Forgive me. I merely mean that you still have faith in others. Such as when you waited at the airlock, which I feel I must caution you: that is a dangerous course of action to take."
"Oh?"
"Yea, Samara's right. You had no idea what was waiting on the other side of that door. At least stand away when the doors open."
"Hm. I suppose you're right. Maybe we are a little too trusting. Something to think about, at least. If nothing else though, I'm a good runner!"
"Not sure turning your back on the enemy is such a good idea."
"How so?" Miranda asks.
"You don't want to make yourself a bigger target." Verity cannot resist.
"Oh. What?" Miranda says, not getting it.
"Never mind, it was just a joke."
"Hm. Must be a military thing."
It has become late in not-Miranda and not-Oriana's routine after their meal, so they offer a spare room in this relatively spacious craft so they might retire. They seemed to be as interesting and affable as their counterparts but without all the dark issues that bubble under, possibly even an innocence to them. Verity and Samara can recognise the undercurrents of a fellow combatant or someone who has faced fear and had to overcome it to save their very lives. No, this pair seemed to have lived a happy life, devoid of the darkness that Henry brought on the other Miranda and Oriana, except perhaps the lost look they have at their abandonment. A pleasant evening indeed, staying off the overshadowing subject at hand, all knowing that it will need to be approached and Verity dreading it. She had to 'harrumph' occasionally to drown out Samara's inability to see when it is best to let things lie. Truth is important, but not always urgent.
"That was all very odd." Miranda says to her sister as they lay in their beds.
"You said it, Miri."
"I still don't get what she meant though."
"About what?"
"Running making me a bigger target, that made no sense."
"Oh, Miri. You are dense sometimes."
"Hm? You know what she meant?"
Oriana rolls over to sleep, then shouts over her shoulder.
"She means your big bum!"
"What? I haven't..."
"'night, Miri."
"Hm! 'night, Ori."
"Love you!"
"Hmm. You too, Ori."
Verity and Samara relished the opportunity for a real bed in warmth and The Hunter can be quite cold. Verity once joked to Samara about cuddling up for warmth but the ship suddenly became colder and both just turned over to sleep. Normally they share the back room of their ship, with a single door to the cockpit, being that and the 'command' area as well. There is space behind the dual pilots' chairs, leather, in similar dimensions to the Normandy's cockpit area though a little lower, where their consoles and non-flight controls are. Other than that, there is a small toilet and shower facility adjoining their back room, and an engine at the rear. An engine they hope will last their journey. They have been assured that there will be no problems and the geth have enhanced all that they can. They have charts of abandoned fuelling stations and deposits, scattered enough that they should not become dry.
Samara sits on the edge of the bed the new Lawson sisters have provided while Verity fiddles with her favourite pistol as she sits on her bed, not really doing anything with it, just fiddling. Mod on. Mod off. She is not trying to do anything particular, certainly not like seemed to happen on the Alliance frigate. Just something soothing to do to relax before sleeping. It's nice to not have to wear extra layers to keep warm so Verity sits in her underwear, Samara her armour's body suit.
"You are aware we may never get back to the fleet?" Samara says, out of the blue.
"Suicide missions are our trade, Sam. Why the cold feet now?"
"It is not 'cold feet', I do not fear death but I am wondering now. What if we are in difficulty somewhere and cannot escape the fate. What then? There will be no passing cruiser or friendly frigate to rescue us."
"Well... Sam... Samara. I can think of worse people to be stuck out here with. And you know me, I've always had a thing for asari, and you're one of the most beautiful asari I know. Doesn't sound so bad to me!"
"'Sam' is okay. And... one of...?" Samara says, almost seductively. Verity hasn't seen this look from Samara before and she's not sure exactly where it came from. She thinks Samara might be trying to be funny but she's not seen that before so it is hard to say. It is possible Samara's time with Anaya has opened her up, chipped at her defences and allowed her to laugh again. Verity cannot deny though, it's a pretty alluring sight, Samara just in her white body suit which has smaller dimensions than the armour it cushions, her mouth slightly ajar, doe-eyed and just a slight smile. Verity stands and walks to Samara, who looks expectantly up at the Commander. Verity slaps her hard on the shoulder, like a marine.
"Go to sleep, Sam."
"Yes, Shepard." Samara smiles.
"You know what, Sam?" Shepard stops before reaching her own bed.
"Yes, Shepard?"
"Call me Verity." then she continues under the bed covers.
"Okay then, Verity! Thank you." Samara almost laughed the name at its peculiarity in her mouth and that this gesture was made. She is well aware this it quite a large one from Commander Shepard. Verity.
In disturbing news today, a near riot took place outside the political chambers aboard the Destiny's Ascension in reaction to the recent announcement by a delegate of krogan that the nursery song 'Turians like to fight' is asari propaganda! "That asari song contains offensive material on just about everyone. In the spirit of unity, it has to be banned! Krogan!" The asari have defended the song, loved by children of all species. "It's just a bit of fun. The krogan speak of unity but they just still can't get over the genophage!" Woah there little lady, calm down! In other news...
It would break Liara's heart to know her favourite rhyme is being used for political leverage, a problem that still exists within the fleet. They may have united in strength but some of the older wounds fester. The messages of strength and unity soon fell by the wayside for the urgency of safety and survival, and the media men seem to think they are still in competition with some imaginary network the way they plug and hammer the messages, irreverent and damaging. All unnecessary. All avoidable, were the ones who could make the changes not embroiled in it all as well. That they would allow the reporting of stories such as the nursery rhyme, it shows just how quickly the fleet's representatives have failed. Reports that stoke the fires of intolerance and stagnancy. Not censorship but there is no point giving air-space to the narrow minded and bigoted for their messages to become acceptable, all accompanied by the fanfares of urgency.
"Why are they saying these things, Miranda? Make them stop! Make them go! Why are you doing this to us? We were happy here!"
Oriana is inconsolable as her tears fall at what Shepard has told them about their kindly father and their sisters, which they still have difficulty believing. Not to mention the events such as Saren, Sovereign, the Reapers, the war, the desperate situation of all life in the galaxy. In their spacious living room where the four talk, a few images are in frames, birthdays and other events. Loving looking occasions. Dad with his thumbs up, daughters smiling at their funny father's silliness, cakes, colourful decorations, it looks like the perfect childhood for both of them. At least, when he was there, their conversations now indicating he was never a constant in their lives but was always there for the good bits. The Lawson girls see that as an effort on his part, rather than the selfish reasons Verity has now inferred from what they have said, what she has seen.
Verity has re-thought the previous accusations she made towards Henry Lawson, that it is not so much 'spares' he needed but he still wanted to be 'daddy' to his daughters. So he created strong daughters to fight the outside world, to be his legacy, him thinking that he needs daughters who don't need him for them to be successful. Then he also wanted soft daughters to be the loving girls that those damaged women could never be. He even named them the same, possibly in his mind even seeing them as the same. He wanted to have his cake and eat it.
Henry was aware his daughters in the outside world would no doubt hate him but it was not their purpose to be those loving daughters. If he needed that affection and love, he need only go to his 'spares', for them to shout 'daddy!' when he entered and rush to him with enthusiastic stories of their lives, innocent and pure. Verity isn't sure if she should feel anger or pity, but the former is more prevalent. Control. The man had to have control, this was already known of him, but this is a whole new twisted kettle of fish.
"Thirty point one!" Verity suddenly shouts.