Chapter Eleven

Shepard could feel the cold seeping through her armour, rising from the uneven stone ground below and pressing in around her like a vice. She was in a corridor, walls rough and rocky, but familiar. Her breath echoed harshly within the sealed confines of her helmet. She raised her weapon slowly… excruciatingly slowly. She started moving forward, and it felt like she was wading through water. Her body was heavy, her muscles sore and aching.

A wordless cry came from her helmet comm and somehow she knew to look over towards her left flank, taking in the glass-and-obsidian pipe that ran along the wall. Tali was inside. She had stopped at a junction and was calling her name, screaming, it was too hot and she was burning.

Shepard knew what to do – after all, she had done it before. She ran for the glowing green plate that signalled a release valve, only she was moving so slowly. She wanted to tell Tali not to worry, that she was coming and would get her out, but her throat constricted and she couldn't draw the breath to speak. She ran faster, forcing her legs to move, feeling a building fire in her lungs, but she was still slow, so slow. Tali was wailing as the temperature inside the conduit increased, and still Shepard couldn't quite get to the valve.

She reached her hand out, stretching desperately, as her friend's screams turned to whimpers and she slumped to the ground.

The green panel flickered and faded, winking out of existence, as Shepard's gloved hand passed through it.

Bile rose up in her throat as she stared at Tali's crumpled body, suit burned away in places, face plate cracked. She wanted to throw up, but suddenly her surroundings lurched and blurred and she was standing on a familiar black obsidian platform. She was staring out at her team as they massed, preparing to defend against a Collector onslaught so she would have enough time to set the base to blow.

She knew she had taken Miranda and Samara with her to destroy the base and kill the human reaper… but they weren't standing next to her now. She was alone on the platform. Why was she alone? She spotted them in the group below. All were milling around, trying to find cover from the limited choices available, preparing weapons, speaking grimly to one another as they waited for the Collectors to burst through the bulkhead doors.

Confused, she tried to issue orders. Jack had chosen a precarious spot near the front where she could easily be flanked. She ordered her to move. But she didn't. None of them noticed her, no matter how much or how loud she shouted.

The platform jerked and started to move backward, away from her team, and at the same moment the doors cracked ponderously open. Shepard tried to step forward – she shouldn't be on the platform alone, she had to help her team – but found that she couldn't move at all now. She watched, helplessly, as fire and light began to cascade between the two forces.

Jack was the first to take a hit. She had been flanked. She was thrown back, hitting the ground with a heavy thump, limp and still before she got there. Shepard tried to move again, to get back over there somehow, to save her people, but nothing happened. She strained with all her limbs, watching as Thane was caught by a warp, sending him writhing to the ground. Kasumi clutched at her stomach, blood welling through her fingers, and fell to her knees. Grunt collapsed, grasping at his throat as his faceplate was blown clear off.

One by one they all fell, and she watched, helpless, rage warring with despair. 'It didn't happen like this!' she screamed, making no sound. Her throat closed again… but now suddenly she could move. She tried to rush forward but the scene changed again, shifting and lurching and spinning…

The floor fell out from beneath her feet and she was hanging, floating in blackness. She couldn't breathe. She clawed at her throat, gloved fingers crashing against her visor, legs twisting as she floated into space, away from the dying Normandy. She reached behind her head, grasping for the broken air hose, scrabbling at the cracked ceramic of her armour but unable to reach the writhing hose itself. The ice blue planet below whirled dizzily around her, even as her vision started to grow dim. Her arms grew weaker as she kept stretching them futilely over her shoulders. She heaved a burning breath, lungs straining and finding no relief—

Shepard jerked upright, sucking air into her lungs quickly, hyperventilating. She gasped, reaching again for the hose, fingers knotting into hair…

Hair. Not helmet.

Hair.

She fell back onto the pillows, concentrating on trying to force her breathing to slow down. She was on the Normandy. In her cabin. Not outside in space. She was alive.

"Shepard, I detect an anomaly in your vital signs." EDI's calm, pleasant voice sounded concerned as it issued from the overhead speakers. "Are you experiencing any difficulties?"

Shepard could feel her heart rate start to slow as the effects of the dream wore off. She managed to sound only slightly breathless when she spoke. "EDI… No, I… It was just a bad dream." She took a careful, slow breath. "I'm fine."

There was a long pause. "My research shows that warm cow's milk may often counteract the inability to sleep peacefully in humans. I do not believe we currently have cow's milk in stock; however, perhaps another liquid such as water would prove beneficial?"

Shepard smiled weakly. The dream had been a bad one, but EDI's calm, pleasant voice made her feel a little better. "That's a good idea, EDI, thank you," she replied.

"I'm glad I could be of assistance, Shepard. Logging you out."

She closed her eyes for a moment, grimacing at the memory of Tali's burnt, lifeless body. Her squad falling to the Collectors, one by one. Her dying breath over Alchera. She hadn't dreamt of that in weeks. Months maybe.

It didn't take a genius to work out why it had come back now. Kaidan had almost been killed on Mars. And Admiral Hackett had all but laid the responsibility for defeating the Reapers entirely on her shoulders.

Kaidan. His lingering doubts about her had caught her off guard, and the aggressive way he had pushed them had surprised her. The Kaidan she knew had never been aggressive. He could be forceful when he wanted to be, but never outright angry, particularly not with her… except for that one time on Horizon. Mars had been like Horizon all over again, except that this time she was far less willing to take his verbal attacks, and this time when she had faltered it had been Nathan who had stepped up to defend her rather than Garrus.

She had been angry too, at the time, completely floored that he still harboured suspicions about her motives and that he would choose to air them in the middle of a critical mission. What had happened to him during the two years she had been dead to make him completely lose his mild-mannered amiability? And his trust in her?

But her anger had dissipated now. She had had enough of coddling him, trying to be understanding about what he had gone through while she was gone. Sure, he had thought she was dead, but she had died! She had died, then woken up cold and half-naked in a Cerberus lab. Cerberus!

She had saved millions of lives by taking down the Collectors and she had been forced to do it without the Alliance's help. If Kaidan wanted to go on thinking that by doing so she had betrayed him personally in some way that was his prerogative. It had nothing to do with her anymore.

Despite all that… she didn't want him to die. She had considered him a friend once. Up until the Mars mission, she still had. That was no longer the case, but he was still a soldier under her command and she would be devastated if he didn't make it.

She glanced at the chrono. She had been asleep for only two hours, but there was no way she would be able to get any more sleep now. The remnants of her dream still lingered like shadows in her mind. Perhaps she could spend some time visiting Kaidan before they arrived at the Citadel. She rolled out of bed, carefully avoiding looking at the stars and blackness of space through the viewport overhead, and padded on bare feet through the darkened cabin to the shower.

She let herself have a long, hot soak, washing away the sleep and any remaining dirt and sweat left over from the escape from Earth and the Mars op. She had fallen straight into bed after removing her armour, without bothering to shower, when she had come up to her cabin after speaking with Nathan earlier.

She shook her head. Nathan. What the hell could he have been thinking? That stunt he pulled had been something worthy of an eighteen year old straight out of basic training. Was he trying to prove something? Trying to impress her? She had been worried she might get that sort of thing from Vega – he occasionally had the same glimmer of hero worship in his eyes she had once seen from Conrad Verner – but so far the big man hadn't done anything stupid. He had in fact proved himself to be a highly capable soldier.

Nathan, on the other hand, she had thought she wouldn't have to worry about. He had never displayed any tendencies toward hero worship. In fact, he had never even seemed to like her very much until a month or two ago. He had started to warm up to her then, and she to him. She thought he considered her a friend.

But maybe… had that moment they almost shared in her cell meant more to him than she thought it did? At the time she had all but brushed it off as a side effect of the alcohol they had been drinking, but what if it was more than that? She had felt his eyes on her in the medbay, when she applied the medigel to his injuries. What if he actually felt something for her? If that was the case, she supposed it would make sense for him to pull stupid stunts to try and impress her…

No. The man was reckless, but he wasn't a teenage boy out to impress a girl in high school. In all likelihood, it had just been lack of foresight, a decision made in the heat of the moment. He probably just hadn't thought his actions through. It could even have been a simple desire to look good in the eyes of a new CO, like… a normal soldier. Her team had been full of specialists, the best of the best, for so long that she had forgotten what it was like to lead regular soldiers. Nathan was by no means a bad soldier, he was just… a regular marine.

Of course, that didn't mean he didn't feel something for her. It was an… intriguing thought.

She poured some honey and cinnamon scented shower gel into her palm and lathered it up, spreading it languorously over her body. The gel was one of very few indulgences she allowed herself, and if any of her crew ever found out about it she would deny it to her last breath. She had a reputation to uphold, after all. But there was something about the smell of cinnamon and honey mixing with steaming hot water that melted her muscles and forced her to relax. Right now she needed to relax.

Regardless of whether Nathan had a thing for her or not, hopefully the dressing down she had given him would prompt him to think ahead a bit more in future. He hadn't seemed to react well to it, and she knew she hadn't particularly enjoyed having to deliver it, but he had saluted and yes-ma'am'ed like a good marine. She couldn't really ask for much more than that. If the problem reoccurred in future, she would deal with it then.

She stepped out of the shower and dried herself off, then took her clean uniform out of the auto-launderer hidden in a bulkhead by her desk. She dressed quickly and pulled her hair into a neat regulation bun, taking a bit more care with it than she normally would. She needed to speak with the Council when they arrived at the Citadel, and probably Udina as well. After that, she had a bunch of errands to run, including heading to the Alliance satellite office to sort out armour and uniforms for herself and Nathan, and various miscellaneous items for the crew. They had all fled Earth with literally nothing but the clothes on their backs. Normally she would leave it up to her crew to take care of their own uniform requirements, but she suspected that it would take a bit of clout to get them all kitted out quickly, now that the war had begun.

While she was there, she also needed to arrange a replacement shuttle. Requisitions wouldn't be too happy about that expense, but there was no way she was going to leave port with anything less than a fully supplied ship. Speaking of, she also wanted to look into getting a dedicated shuttle pilot and a CMO. Karin Chakwas would be ideal for Chief Medical Officer, of course, but she had no idea what she was doing these days. She glanced toward the alcove where EDI's blue avatar would have appeared back on the Cerberus version of the SR-2. "EDI."

Of course, the little blue sphere didn't materialise, but EDI's voice issued from the cabin speakers. "Yes, Commander?"

"Can you find out where Karin Chakwas is currently posted?" she asked.

"Dr Chakwas is assigned to Alliance Research and Development, at a facility situated in the Shalta Wards, on the Citadel."

On the Citadel? Well, that was a lucky coincidence. "Can you send her a message, EDI? Ask her if she would like to meet with me."

"Of course, Commander. I will advise you when there has been a reply."

Satisfied with her hair, Shepard pulled her BDU jacket on and headed out the door, buttoning it up as she went. Head down, she ran straight into Liara.

The asari raised her hands, catching Shepard by the shoulders. "Shepard," she greeted her, amused.

Shepard winced. "Sorry, Liara. I guess I'm still a bit tired."

Liara nodded, appearing concerned. "EDI told me you didn't sleep very well."

Shepard glanced up at the ceiling, lip twitching in annoyance. "EDI."

"My research also shows that humans gain comfort by speaking with close friends. I merely wished to ensure you are fully recovered, Commander."

Shepard sighed. "Thank you, EDI."

"Logging you out, Commander."

"It's… she is very helpful, isn't she?" Liara sounded far too impressed.

"She can be," Shepard grumbled. When she wasn't meddling. She turned back to her cabin. "Come on in, have a seat."

She slumped onto her couch, leaving Liara to take the other side. "What have you got for me?" she asked, stifling a yawn.

Liara frowned. "First, are you all right?"

Shepard scrubbed a hand over her face. She was used to bad dreams. They came with the territory. She felt like she should be able to deal with them without getting Liara or anyone else involved. But Liara was a good friend and deserved more than just a brush-off. "I… dreamed about dying again," she admitted reluctantly. "I woke up and I couldn't breathe."

She cringed at the pity in Liara's expression. "Oh, Shepard," she murmured. "That must have been horrible."

"Yeah, it wasn't fun. But we have more important things to deal with." She cut off any further sympathy, changing the subject. She really didn't want to dwell on it. "You needed to see me?"

The asari didn't seem too happy to just drop the subject but she inclined her head anyway. "Yes, I did. I wanted to let you know that I have gathered together all the information we possess on the Crucible, and I will be ready to present it to the Council when you meet with them."

"Good. Hopefully they'll listen to me this time, but I'm not holding my breath. They never have before. Why start now?"

"Perhaps they will realise that not listening to your warnings about the Reapers is what got us all into this mess?"

Shepard snorted. "Ha. You planning a move into stand-up comedy, Liara?"

Liara made a face and lent forward, elbows on her knees. "Shepard, there's something else."

Shepard sat back, crossing her legs. She had a feeling she wouldn't like this, whatever it was. "Go on."

"I'm… not going to be able to stay on the Normandy with you when you leave the Citadel," Liara said, eyes firmly on the floor.

Nope, she didn't like it. "What? Why not?" she asked, leaning forward again.

"Now that I'm the Shadow Broker, I need to be somewhere with access to as many communication channels as possible, both physical and electronic. The Normandy won't be able to reliably provide me with that."

"But… surely the Shadow Broker can delegate."

"Not well enough." Liara shook her head and looked up. "Shepard, I'm going to be the most useful to you and the war effort if I have access to as much information as possible. I'm not going to get that on this ship."

"Your ability to obtain information is not your only asset, Liara," Shepard protested. "You're also one of the strongest biotics I know, and a good fighter. Someone I can trust to have my back."

"You can find other biotics, but you can't find another information broker. Not one you can be sure is completely loyal."

Shepard gritted her teeth. Damn her, but she was right. "You're also my friend."

Liara smiled sadly. "Yes, I am. And I will continue to be even if I'm not on your ship. I'll speak to Specialist Traynor before I leave. We'll make sure a secure connection is set up between my base and the Normandy. And whenever you're on the Citadel, you will make sure to visit me."

Shepard sighed and nodded. "I will. I suppose I understand, Liara. I don't like it, but I understand."

"Thank you, Shepard." Liara stood. Shepard followed suit. "I need to speak with Specialist Traynor. I will probably be gone by the time you return to the ship. Shepard… I'm not going to wish you luck. You won't need it. We will defeat the Reapers."

Shepard pulled her friend into an embrace, holding her tightly. She was sure she would see her again, but this moment felt so final. She supposed it could be. The galaxy was no longer safe. The Citadel could come under attack tomorrow. She didn't want to let Liara go without a proper goodbye.

But she couldn't think of anything meaningful to say. Instead, she replied, "Yes, we will. Goodbye, Liara."