Chapter 11 – Nightmares & Dreamscapes
Garrus sat hunched over at Tali's bedside. She was murmuring and twitching slightly on the steel table of the Normandy med bay, unaware of her surroundings.
"How bad is she, Mordin?" Shepard asked.
"Quite bad. But then, on the other hand, rather good. It's relative."
"Do you ever just give a straight answer?"
"Imagine if you had influenza, Shepard. Human flu. You'd feel terrible. Be unable to move, to eat maybe, but only for around four days. After that, you be fine."
"So she'll make a full recovery?" Garrus said.
"Certainly, certainly. Though she will be very sick for a short while. You're very welcome to stay and look after her," Mordin said.
Garrus nodded, running a comforting finger gently down Tali's arm.
"And Aria?" Shepard said.
"Oh, fighting fit. Quite literally. Bullet never touched bone or cartilage. Her and Samara are practising hand to hand combat in the shuttle bay. Engineer Donnelly has been watching them closely. Strange, as the likelihood of him being involved I hand to hand combat is slim."
"I don't think he's interested in the combat, but I still reckon his chances are slim."
Mordin made a quizzical, I-don't-understand-humans noise and turned to some samples on his workbench.
Shepard beckoned Mordin over to the corner. She didn't want to disturb Garrus' vigil any more than necessary.
"So why was that quarian we saw frozen? Was he dead?"
"Salient point, there was nothing you could have done to save him, undoubtedly. However, his vitals were still active, though much lower readings than I've ever seen from a quarian," Mordin said.
He sounded fascinated, almost impressed. Shepard hoped it was merely a coping mechanism.
"How low?"
"Well, a human heart has resting pulse of around seventy or eighty beats a minute. Salarians like myself average around fifty, while quarians are normally up at one hundred and ten or so. This quarian's heart only registered forty beats per minute."
"So what does that mean?" Shepard asked. She felt she was following, but also that she was two or three steps behind where Mordin was.
"Not quite sure. Excellent position to be in as a scientist. Means I get to find out. If I had to guess, I'd say they were putting him to sleep. But why not use simple anaesthesia? Questions, questions..."
Mordin trailed off, his head turning longingly to his work station.
"Could they use this freeze field on us?" Shepard said.
"In theory, yes. It's not just exclusive to quarians, that much is clear. But it seems quite rudimentary. I would expect to be able to conjure a counter measure rather soon."
Miranda was waiting outside the med bay. She leant on a handrail, legs slightly crossed as she used her tiptoes to perch comfortably. Trying to hard to look nonchalant. Moving off the rail, she rested against the wall and folded her arms. She had no reason for being there other than waiting for Shepard, and it was uncomfortable to not appear obvious. Eventually Shepard came out. Strands of her red hair bounced along her forehead, and Miranda was transported back to Shepard's cabin, taking a chance on brushing it back behind her ear.
"Maybe one of these days you'll come back from a mission with everyone unscathed," Miranda said.
Shepard stopped dead.
Miranda had meant it to be wry and cute, but look Shepard gave her made Miranda think that if Shepard were armed, it would be the last thing Miranda ever saw.
"I suppose you think you could do better?"
"I just meant... I was joking... oh God, she's going to be okay, isn't she?"
"Full recovery with in a week. As long as the injuries stay minor, I can let your little jokes slide," Shepard said.
"I didn't-"
"Listen, I know you're used to running things, but on this ship you work under me."
"I could get used to working under you, Shepard."
Miranda heard the double entendre as soon as soon as the words were out. She hoped Shepard had missed it, but her raised eyebrow suggested different.
"Oh God, I-" Miranda started, before Shepard cut her off.
"Let's just take things one step at a time, huh? Go get some sleep. We can discuss our next move in the morning, Deputy Commander."
Miranda smiled and walked to her quarters. She had meant the more professional context of working under Shepard, but there was nothing wrong with thinking about the other kind.
Shepard returned to her own quarters and climbed into bed. Sleep usually came easily to her, and it was mostly dreamless. But not tonight. It was not Tali's condition that concerned her, nor the minor wound Aria had already recovered from. Injuries, fatalities even, were part of battle. Soldiers had to move on, and Shepard understood that. What was keeping her awake was something she understood far less; matters of the heart. There was a spark with Miranda, even though there were parts of her Shepard couldn't stand. But some if funnest relationships she'd had were with girls she couldn't stand. At least, she remembered the fun parts. Her memory had probably eaten some of the screaming frustration. And the relationships had always been short, she remembered that much. And when she had been with Liara, it was more meaningful. She'd never admit it to anyone, but she even had some names picked out for their little blue babies. Yet in two years, Liara had managed to move on. It wasn't just a fling to end the dry spell, Liara and Samara were a real couple. And where did that leave Shepard?
She turned on her side and saw Miranda lying in bed next to her. Her dark hair glimmered as it flowed down the pillow. Shepard looked behind her and saw Liara had joined them too, staring at her lovingly with sparkles in her big beautiful eyes. So she had fallen asleep. Shepard was embarrassed with herself for dreaming up a grandiose threesome of her self imposed love triangle, but not enough that she wanted the dream to stop.
Miranda ran her hand through Shepard's hair. There was a ticklish tug at her roots, but when looked at Miranda's hand, she saw a clump of ginger strands slipping away to her floor. What was happening? Shepard touched her skull and felt a bare patch. The dream became blurred and distorted as Liara grabbed her by the shoulders. She kissed her hard, painfully firm, and Shepard tasted the coppery tang of blood. Liara had never kissed her like that before. It was closer to the anger infused passion she imagined her first kiss with Miranda would be like, should one ever come to pass. Liara moved away from her and smiled diabolically. She bared her teeth, sharp and long and stained maroon. Liara laughed, a pantomime cackle. Miranda pulled Shepard towards her, but Shepard's clothes and skin tore off and dissolved into sludge. Her breathing became erratic as Miranda began to cackle too. The bed expanded to a huge size, leaving Shepard a tiny figure in the centre. Liara and Miranda swirled around her, smoky spectral demons, teeth dripping down into fangs as the cackles became louder, louder, louder.
Shepard woke up. Her hectic hands swatted at her hair and ribcage. Still intact, but everywhere was coated in a film of fear stricken sweat. Even the bed sheets were awash. She could taste no blood, her mouth instead dry and acrid. She wanted Liara to be there. Not the false, maniacal Liara from the dream, but the real Liara. Her Liara. But Liara wasn't hers anymore, and Miranda never could be. Not enough that she could reveal her vulnerability, that she could simply ask Miranda to hold her.
She ran to the bathroom and splashed cold water onto her skin. Her cheeks were hollow and pale in the mirror.
"EDI, what at the crew sleeping arrangements?"
The blue holo sphere of EDI slotted out of the wall. Her chine hurt Shepard's half asleep eyeballs.
"The Normandy has two large crew quarters, one for combat staff and one for other personnel, as well as separate quarters for certain senior staff, such as yourself and Miranda"
"But where specifically are people sleeping?"
Shepard rested her hands on the sink, gripping the cool ceramic tightly.
"Aside from Miranda in her own quarters and Tali and Garrus in the Med Bay, all of the crew are in the crew quarters. Except for Dr Solus, who is still awake. He had set up his bed in the Med Bay, but he offered it to Garrus so he could remain by Tali's side."
"What about Liara and Samara?" Shepard asked.
Her fingers were an ever tightening vice on the wash basin.
"They are in the crew quarters, Shepard."
A bead of sweat slid down her fringe and splashed on her skin.
"Are they sharing a bed, EDI?"
Her teeth her gritted.
"Shepard, I do not think such a request is ethical."
Shepard glared up at EDI and caught her own reflection in the mirror. She looked haggard and bitter, at least ten years older than she had been that afternoon. The glow of the bathroom light was not kind.
"It's my ship, EDI."
"Shepard-"
"Tell me!"
Spittle flew from her mouth and attacked the mirror like a swarm of flies.
"Yes, Shepard. They are."
Shepard's fist slammed into the mirror, shattering the glass into a mosaic of eyes and teeth and red hair.
