12. Pink Dancing Elephants

I spent most of the next morning discharging mundane administrative duties, filing requisition forms and the like. An anonymous crew member, most likely Matthews had submitted a requisition for a Fornax subscription. Written in the Comments section of the form was There is a dire shortage of naked asari. I would like to rectify this. Despite my concern for Shepard, my mouth curved upwards in a small smile. I made a note to have an informal chat with Matthews about his interest in alien pornography or 'tasteful erotica' as the publishers would no doubt like to refer to it.

I didn't believe he had any real addiction to such things but I wanted to be sure he wasn't using it as some substitute to forming real, lasting relationships. With actual people. The clerical work attended to I rode the elevator to the crew deck, wanting to visit the Commander. Despite the evident pain from her injury, Shepard had insisted she was fit for duty, prompting Chakwas to administer a light sedative, allowing her body to rest. The damage to the Spectre's biotic implants was limited to the plug-in amp installed at the base of her skull. Using schematics from Cerberus archives, EDI was able to manufacture a replacement with the minifacturing equipment in the armory.

When I arrived on the crew deck, the doctor was seated at the mess table, drinking from a steaming mug of tea and chatting with Gardner. The cook nodded to me as I entered the room. "Mornin' Miz Chambers."

"Hello. I wanted to thank you again for the excellent meals we've had lately."

"Hell, it ain't nothing. The crew deserve a few decent meals, it's the least I can do."

My high school English teacher would have been apoplectic with rage at the usage of 'ain't nothing' but Gardner's heart was in the right place and I wanted him to know his work wasn't going unnoticed. "The crew appreciates the effort, Mister Gardner."

Gardner rubbed a hand over his balding scalp, seemingly ill at ease with the praise. He looked relieved when I added, "I should let you get back to work." I slid into the seat opposite the doctor. "How is the Commander doing?" I asked.

Chakwas smiled ruefully. "Shepard is perhaps the worst patient I've ever had. She hates to have people fuss over her. But as far as physical damage goes, she's very lucky. The power spike disabled her amplifier but beyond that, the Commander is almost fit for duty."

I smiled in reply, recalling the extensive profiles on Shepard. The Spectre was happiest when immersed in work – forced inaction was anathema to her. "She must be tearing the bulkheads off in frustration."

"She'd appreciate a visit from you, I think," the doctor answered and I nodded, intending to do so. I left the mess table as the doctor continued drinking her tea.

As I stepped through the doors into the medlab itself, I saw that Shepard had disregarded the advice from her medical practitioner and was instead seated cross legged on one of the beds, reading from a datapad and occasionally tapping the screen with her forefinger. She looked around as the doors hissed open. "Come to visit the invalid?" she said in greeting, laying aside the datapad and swinging her legs around so they hung from the side of the bed. The Commander wore her usual uniform of fatigues with the Cerberus insignia cut away, replaced with that of the Systems Alliance Navy.

I walked towards her, noting the slight pallor of her skin. "You should be resting," I chided. "You look pale."

Shepard snorted, "Spend your career on one starship after another and you'd look pasty as well."

"Paler," I amended, with a small smile. I paused to fully take in her appearance. Aside from her wan complexion, I was hard pressed to see anything wrong with her. "How are you feeling?" I sat alongside her on the bed, a few inches between us.

Shepard looked at the bulkhead opposite for a moment before speaking. "I'm fine. Really. The doc removed the amp and ran a series of baseline tests. The eezo nodes in my system are fine. The implant jack in my head is fine." She shrugged. A small shudder went through me as I thought of the invasive procedures required to produce usable mass effect fields in humans. Surgery, then years of training in a place like BAaT or the Ascension Project. These days, such surgery was almost as routine as a hip replacement but all surgery carried a risk.

Shepard turned to me with a playful smile. "Chakwas shot me up with some pretty heavy painkillers when I first came in." She chuckled to herself as though recalling an amusing anecdote. "I was seeing dancing elephants prancing up and down the deck," she gestured at the floor.

I blinked, "Elephants?"

"Dancing elephants," she gently corrected. "Pink dancing elephants."

"You're making that up," I said, frowning.

The Spectre placed a hand over her left breast. "On my honour, it's the truth."

"Drugs, hm?" I put in.

Shepard nodded. "Back on Earth, the gangs I ran with would kill to get their hands on this stuff." The Commander paused, a mental switching of gears. "How are you?" she asked.

"I was worried about you earlier but I can see you're fine."

"Any crew concerns I should know about?"

I nodded. "Miranda would like to know if she should assemble a team to locate the Justicar, Samara or wait for you."

Shepard's face tilted towards the ceiling. "EDI?"

The AI's avatar appeared near the door. "Yes, Shepard?"

"Tell Miranda to assemble a team: herself, Garrus, Tali and Thane. His knowledge of Nos Astra's streets and back alleys should be helpful."

"Of course, Shepard."

"And EDI?"

"Shepard?"

"Tell Miranda to be polite to the Justicar. I've heard they can be sensitive about such things."

"Very well, Shepard," EDI replied before blinking out.

"May I ask you something, Commander?" I began.

Shepard's eyes narrowed. "Sounds ominous."

I smiled my most disarming smile and her face relaxed. "I wanted to know what it's like," I made a vague gesture in the air with my hand. "As a biotic."

"What'd you learn in school?"

I shifted on the bed as I recalled the details. "In humans, exposure to airborne element zero in-utero causes tumours and severe birth defects in the child. In rare cases, the element zero forms into nodes within the child's nervous system."

Shepard nodded, "Right. I got lucky. My female parental unit carried me to term, probably couldn't afford the abortion, now that I think about it."

"Shepard!" I gasped, taken aback by this flip remark.

"Yeah," she rubbed the back of her neck, "That was a little harsh. I was born all pink and healthy with no cancers and managed to survive until I enlisted. 'Til then, I'd had no idea I even had biotic potential; it showed up in the medical."

"What happened?"

"Alliance Medical Commander gave me the option of having the surgery to implant an L3 unit. 'Course, they weren't exactly forthcoming about all the inherent risks. Another enlistee who had the surgery the same day I did woke up blind. Far as I know, he never regained his sight."

A hand went to my mouth. "That's terrible."

"I make it sound worse than it was. This was over a decade ago. The success rate's almost total these days." She shrugged. "Having a hole drilled into your skull's only the beginning, anyway. Years of intense training just so you can generate a basic mass effect field without blowing off the top of your own head. The Alliance tries to start training children as young as possible nowadays. Then there's what Cerberus did to Jack," Shepard's face and voice hardened. "I don't care what spin Miranda put on it, there are lines you just don't cross."

"Cerberus-" I began. The words ceased as my mouth dried. The expression on her face was one of barely restrained fury. Spots of red bloomed in her otherwise pale cheeks. The red glow of her cybernetics seemed to pulse in time with her heartbeat. For the first time since meeting her, I was afraid of Shepard.

"No," she said, her voice a forceful whisper. "This isn't about Cerberus helping advance humanity. This is about Cerberus ruining peoples' lives and causing untold misery." Shepard took a breath and the fury seemed to drain out of her. She turned her face away from me, one hand idly plucking at the sheet. "I'd like to be alone at the moment."

I felt my heart beating too hard in my chest and had to swallow past the dryness in my mouth. "I'm sorry, Shepard." I said quietly. "I never meant..." I pushed myself off the bed. I stood there a few moments longer, knowing I had to say something to smooth things over, make it right but unable to find the words. I opened my mouth, closed it. Shepard's head turned towards me and for the first time, I saw lines of weariness etched in her skin. "Go," she said softly, her voice carrying no hint of her earlier anger. "I'm sorry I snapped at you. But I need you to go."

I nodded and left, passing Dr Chakwas as she re-entered the medbay. "Am I going to have to sedate you again, Commander?" she asked in her dry tones. A glance over my shoulder revealed Shepard once more reviewing the files in her datapad. She sighed and lay back on the bed, folding her hands over her chest.

"Better now?" she asked, staring at the ceiling.

"Much."

Æ

The Normandy's observation deck was aglow with blue-white light, a shifting corona of energy swirling around the asari. Samara sat cross legged on the cool metal deck, hands resting palm upwards on her thighs, meditating. At first, Samara gave no sign that she'd heard the doors hiss open and closed or my heels on the deck. I stood a few feet behind her, entranced by the light show rivalling the starscape outside. Without looking around, Samara spoke in an oddly detached manner, "Is there something I can assist you with, Kelly?"

"I came by to see how you're settling in. Is there anything you need, Samara?"

The biotic corona subsided, bringing a dimness to the room. Her moves smooth and graceful, Samara unfolded herself and stood upright. The Justicar turned to face me, blue eyes sharp and piercing. I felt unable to meet her gaze and instead looked out at the stars beyond the window. When Samara replied, her tone of voice suggested she may have been speaking of the weather. "I have little need of anything beyond my personal arms and armour. You need not trouble yourself."

I forced myself to meet her eyes. Samara struck me as almost stiffly polite yet cold and distant at the same time. From what I'd read about them, Justicars devote their lives to roaming the galaxy, often on a personal quest and helping those in need. Justicars dealt in absolutes – good, evil, right and wrong. Those who fell outside the law often met harsh fates if their paths crossed with that of a Justicar. When Samara spoke again, I flinched slightly. It was though she'd seen something in my eyes. "Something troubles you. I am not as well-versed in speaking with others as I might like but perhaps it may help to talk."

The irony of her offering to counsel a counsellor was not lost upon me, forcing a short laugh. "You're very good at reading people, Samara," I replied.

The asari nodded. "I have roamed the galaxy for much of the last four hundred years. In that time, I have learned to 'read' others, as you say."

Unsure where to begin or whether I should begin at all, I sat on one of the low couches in the room. Samara resumed her meditative stance in the centre of the room. Aware of the monitoring devices installed throughout the ship, feeding information to the Illusive Man, I chose my words carefully. "Are you aware of Cerberus' reputation?"

"I know little of your organisation, beyond the fact you oppose the Collectors and Reapers. That is enough for me."

I blinked. "Most non-humans are...wary of Cerberus. They see us as anti-alien."

Samara's head turned towards me; I took in the graceful curve of her neck. "I have learned of the dangers of blindly accepting the opinions of others." She paused a moment before adding, "That is not what truly concerns you."

The wisdom of a thousand years. When Samara was born, humans were still fighting a variety of long, bloody wars on Earth, hitting each other in the face with swords and axes. I sighed. "The Commander – Shepard – doesn't trust us. Cerberus, I mean. I've tried to tell her that we aren't as...evil as most people like to believe. The organisation does good work."

"I have spoken with Shepard. She does not strike me as one who makes such judgements without consideration."

"She...dealt with several Cerberus research bases two years ago. I don't know what they were working on – it's well above my security clearance but whatever it was." I sighed again. "It set Shepard against the Illusive Man."

"You are conflicted," Samara stated, getting to the heart of the matter.

I nodded. "I admire the Commander a great deal. I respect her opinion. I...like her. But at the same time, I believe in what Cerberus stands for. I'm afraid." I paused again, struggling to get the words out. "I'm afraid that if the Illusive Man tries to force her into something against her morals, she'll cut all ties with us and leave."

Samara's face turned towards me once more. "You feel as though she would be abandoning you personally."

"No! Not just me...the crew as a whole..." I hung my head. I sighed again, defeated. "You're right," I said quietly. "I know it's selfish."

"It may be difficult, but in times of need, often we are called upon to lay aside our own wants and desires for the sake of something greater than ourselves."

Samara was right, of course. Unexpectedly, a faint smile appeared on the asari's lips. "It may even come to pass that, should Shepard sever ties with this Illusive Man, she might well ask that you and the crew accompany her." The smile disappeared. "She will need trusted allies, in the days ahead."

Whether she intended it or not, Samara's words lightened my mood and I felt more at peace with the situation. The thought of Shepard defying the Illusive Man and taking the Normandy and crew with her...it was scary. But also exciting. I rose from my seat. "Thanks for chatting with me, Samara. You've given me a lot to think about."

"It was no trouble. For now, I should return to my meditations."

As I left the room, it was once more engulfed in blue and white light, brighter than before.