"Logged. The commanding officer is aboard", the Normandy's crisp V.I. began its familiar chant. "XO Pressley stands relieved".
"Welcome back, Commander" Jeff Mareau offered, scratching absentmindedly at his whiskers. He hated the automated voice because it tended to fill his head with images of the Normandy's executive officer standing over a urinal and sighing with relief. Joker normally straightened his cap whenever Shepard returned to the ship; today, he felt this ritual was unnecessary. A quick study of the returning shore party confirmed his beliefs.
Shepard responded with a curt nod, stray wisps of disheveled black hair bobbing as she headed down the Normandy's bridge. Doctor T'Soni appeared to be less alert than usual, fatigue casting grey shadows around the violet of her eye sockets. Even Ash looked grim, and not in an angry sort of way. Her gait seemed staggered, like she was wearing a much heavier version of her usual Phoenix armor.
"Alright then", he mumbled to himself.
The daring evac from the volcanic treachery of Therum had left Shepard's party noticeably shaken. The commander seemed to put up with his tasteless humor well enough during debriefing; his performance had been nothing short of outstanding. Even Feros, which sent Alenko home with a prominent scowl on his tired face, had been an excellent opportunity for classic jabs involving vague references to the daughters of colonists. He didn't care that people considered him to be an ass, but the Normandy's nimble pilot knew the correct timing for blatant sarcasm and subtle quips.
Now was not the time for either.
Noveria had drained the color out of everyone aboard the Normandy, even though most of the crew never ventured ashore. Joker knew it couldn't have been the weather. There was just something about the damn place, maybe something intangible. He decided the corporate environment was to blame for everyone's sour disposition.
The Normandy warmed to life in Joker's hands while he rehearsed potential wisecracks.
Staff Lieutenant Alenko checked his timepiece. It was time for him to go to sleep, but he felt too alert at the moment and shuffled off to the mess hall for a snack. Food frequently soothed him, although he was careful to monitor his intake. Any L2 was prone to development of health problems, but the lieutenant wasn't about to let himself get grey before his time.
Although, in some ways, he already had.
"Hey, Chief", he lowered himself to the dining table and cracked open a canister of unidentifiable origin.
"You like that stuff?" the chief sneered at the lieutenant's snack preference.
"Not really", he shrugged, cautiously crunching one of the wheat and soy wafers. It was crisp and salty, but the overall texture left something to be desired.
"Well?"
"Well, what?" Alenko asked.
"You're not going to ask me about Noveria?" Ashley downed the last of her beverage.
"No".
"Why not?" she scoffed, her cup clinking against the table.
"Why should I?" Alenko asked plainly, popping another wafer into his mouth.
Williams rolled her eyes before offering her confession.
"It sucked. Sir".
"I gathered that".
"We had to fight our way through these monsters just to find one asari", she explained, then added "What a bitch".
Alenko glanced at the ingredient list on the canister, but Williams was undeterred.
"Then we find out she's just Saren's puppet, and she could turn on us again at any moment. Which, of course, she did. Commander was quick on the draw, luckily".
"Always has been", Alenko observed with a note of nostalgia.
"Then we got to watch the matriarch die right in front of us, and in plain view of her only daughter. Didn't see her cry or anything, though".
"You sound disappointed", he remarked.
"I was surprised", she corrected him. "I didn't even know what to say, so we just stood there, watching. I hate watching, but at least she didn't scream. Guess she wanted to die as a mother, instead of a slave. Could be an asari thing".
"Hm", was all the lieutenant offered, a third wafer now softening in his mouth.
"That's it? This doesn't ring any bells, Lieutenant?"
"Actually", he spoke after swallowing, "I think it reminds me of my own mother".
"Yeah?"
"Yep. If she saw me on Noveria right now, I think she would tell me to put on a sweater".
Ashley frowned.
"Sorry. Go ahead".
"Anyway, that was the worst of it. Unless you consider the rachni queen. Ugliest mother I've ever set eyes on. Wasn't my place to decide on how to handle things, but-"
"I know".
"What? You know about the rachni queen?"
"Yeah, Shepard told me about the whole thing. Rough stuff. But I'm always happy to hear someone else's version, Ash".
The gunnery chief pressed her palms against the table and lifted herself to full height. From where Kaidan sat, Williams was a strikingly imposing figure in the mess hall's amber light.
"You're an ass, Lieutenant. With all due respect", was her final declaration, before leaving him alone with his nutritious snack. Kaidan grinned and munched in solitude.
His wafer snack started to taste much better.
Stupid Kaidan. Ashley ruminated on her frustration.
She settled into the warmth of a sleep pod, and her pulse steadied almost instantaneously. Williams didn't fight the sensation of her lean frame sinking into a heavy slumber. Kaidan wasn't really stupid, he was probably just worn out. Like everyone else.
In her dreams, she saw her grandmother. She was young and beautiful, with her antique rifle trained on an unseen foe.
The quietest member of the Normandy's crew silently set his enormous bulk against the tiled wall of the vehicle bay. Ample rods and enlarged occipital lobes allowed the krogan to stalk nocturnal prey for countless generations. It was just one of many biological adaptations the turians had become painfully aware of during their bloody war against the indomitable warlords. This particular krogan focused the power of his magma eyes on a striking pair of silhouettes engaged in dramatic dialogue. The larger figure stood erect with an avian build, heavy at the top and slender near the bottom. For a krogan, the outline of a turian was instantly recognizable.
The second silhouette was smaller, and far more ambiguous. At first glance, it appeared unimpressive and frail like an asari or human. Despite its narrow waist and strange legs, the figure was not nearly as top heavy as a turian; Wrex reasoned that such a build would allow the sentient better balance and agility. He was still eager to bear witness to the quarian's combat skills. For the time being, he battled his boredom by listening in on their exchange for any hint of interesting information or recounting of violent incident.
So far, no luck.
"I suppose, in some ways, I felt I could relate to her".
"Relate to who?" the larger one spoke with typical turian rasp. "The matriarch?"
"No, I mean Liara", the quarian clarified. Wrex snorted, sensing another dull discussion of introspective nature.
"T'Soni? You mean because she's an outcast?"
"She is not an outcast, Garrus. And I was talking about her mother".
"I thought you were talking about T'Soni".
"I am. Talking about both, I mean".
The turian sighed, but the quarian kept going.
"I was not very close to my mother, but it wasn't until I lost her that I really appreciated everything she did for me. That was what made it so upsetting for me, and why I am worried about Liara now".
"She'll be fine", the turian reassured her, but Wrex knew that Tali would not be so easily placated. He wasn't sure how he felt about either of them, but he did admire the quarian's persistence. She was agitating the turian. Wrex liked that.
"I know she will, and I think she does, too", said the quarian. "But I think I'll speak to her about it, all the same. It wouldn't hurt her to have an extra shoulder to lean on".
"Hm", the turian shook his spiky head. "Now you sound like my father".
"Really?" the quarian piped up. "Were you close to him?"
"Maybe I'll tell you about him later. Right now, I need to clear excess snow out of the Mako. All that salty Noverian water is highly corrosive, you know". Wrex detected a strange inflection when the turian said "corrosive". If there had been a hidden meaning, it went right over the krogan's head.
"Oh, right. I should get going, anyway. See you later, Garrus".
"Take care", he murmured, orange gauntlet glowing at his forearm. Wrex didn't care for omni-tools, so he watched the quarian as she made quick and happy strides to the engine room. He could not understand why all the mommy-daddy talk put such a spring in her step.
The krogan found himself patting at his belt holster, checking that his combat knife was securely sheathed.
The SSV Normandy was in pristine condition. Shepard would have felt perfectly comfortable dining right off the deck floor; in fact, she was secretly devoted to the three-second rule. Officers under her command also maintained a comparable level of military cleanliness, though she rarely made direct physical contact with them. For this reason, she was often comfortable sleeping in her navy blue fatigues.
Having resolved all necessary business and completing her after-action report, Shepard's aching legs found temporary relief on the firm frame of her mattress. Sleep, however, did not come as easily as she had hoped. Vivid flashes of light and deafening mechanical war cries always seemed to lurk in her mind. The nightmares were most noticeable when she first began to drift off, or in the moments before waking. Chakwas had offered her a mild sleep aid, but Shepard declined. She rarely accepted medications of any kind unless she deemed them necessary.
Damn Protheans.
Sleep disturbances were becoming increasingly problematic for the spectre. She knew that if the dreams did not subside soon, it might affect her performance. She was not so prideful as to turn down a sedative at the risk of mission objectives. Still, she knew the significance of the images that the Prothean beacon branded upon her brain. They were always the same, violent and disturbing, but using drugs to diminish their intensity might similarly hamper their ability to gather clues.
As such, there was no rest Commander Shepard.
Stress was a frequent problem for the first human spectre, but she typically kept it at bay by savoring the quiet moments. Conversation between crewmates was typically beneficial for all parties involved, but Shepard was not feeling especially sociable at the moment. This must have been how Liara often felt, sitting alone in the dark bowls of a strange vessel.
Poor girl.
Although the asari was many years older than Shepard, she could not shake the feeling that Liara had orphaned through her own actions. Intellectually, Shepard knew that she had not been at fault. There did not seem to be any means of preventing Benezia's death, and Shepard kept herself calm by soaking in the knowledge that the matriarch was now at peace among the stars. No wonder she had refused Shepard's offer of first aid; she loved peace far more than her own life. The great mother had passed beyond the universe, far outside of Saren's comparably minor influence. Liara T'Soni was the matriarch's crowning legacy.
Even in her indoctrinated state, ancient wisdom poured from the matriarch. She had been right. Shepard did not know the privilege of being a mother. Not yet, anyway.
I wanted to know more about you.
Respiration became steady, and she embraced the tropical colors of her dreams. Shepard swam through the blue of an enlarged iris, but the eyes were not Benezia's.
Chief Engineer Adams knew better than to question the quarian. Initially, he'd been a little concerned that the alien crewmember possessed greater mechanical genius than any engineer working under him. The faceless little girl didn't scare him, but if it came down to it, there was a good chance Shepard would prefer the company of an absurdly talented quarian over some worn out human. Tali was fast in every sense of the word, not to mention combat-ready. Adams wasn't getting any younger.
That was some time ago, before he knew what kind of person Shepard was. She didn't put the cause before the people; in Shepard's book, the people were the cause. So far, it had served her pretty damn well. She treated her crewmates as friends, not a disposable set of tools. He was sure he would follow the commander to his death if she asked him. If he died, Tali would make a sublime replacement.
Adams glanced away from the control panel. Her little frame was hunched beside a manual control lever, which dangled precariously from its base. Why couldn't she just give up on that little thing? Tali often seemed to overwork herself. He knew the quarian disliked patronization, but he still felt responsible for her.
"Hey, what's this?" Tali cautiously inspected the small toolbox that rested at her feet. Adams guessed the quarian had noticed it sooner, but didn't want to offend anyone by pointing it out or complaining that it was an obstacle in her way. She was cute like that.
"Not sure", Adams spoke strangely during his yawn. "Chief Williams dropped it off while you were ashore".
The quarian pawed gently through the contents of the box with one slender hand. There was enough scrap metal here to sustain her new omni-tool for days, maybe even a whole month if she budgeted her use. She usually did.
Several sentences were scrawled onto the side of the toolbox. The quarian tilted it slightly until the engine room's powerful lights struck clarity upon the message.
"Dear Tali", it read. "This should hold you over. Keep your filthy hands off my workbench, or you'll be back in medbay in no time flat. Love, Ash".
Although her people rarely trivialized violent action, Tali couldn't help grinning at the dark humor of the note. She would thank Ashley as soon as possible. For now, she was eager to put her newest gift to good use.