Author's notes: As always, Mass Effect, Mass Effect 2, Mass Effect 3 and all related characters and trademarks are property of EA/Bioware. Rated M for language, violence and suggestive themes.
Chapter 14: The Fate Of The Krogan
Shepard leaned forward, hands covering his face as he closed his weary eyes, his mind in turmoil as he considered the two paths laid before him. On the one hand, he could destroy the cure and the Krogan would be unable to present a credible threat to the other races of the Galaxy, but Wrex's people would remain firmly under the cruel yoke of a plague that hobbled their entire race. On the other hand, he could release the cure to the Krogan. Having a whole species owing him a debt of gratitude would prove useful in the near future, but the distribution of the cure would be impossible to control. It would spread to every last Krogan, like the virulent Genophage. After this, there would be no turning back, no resealing Pandora's Box.
The Commander felt that his head would explode from the pressure of the situation. Why did all of these decisions seem to fall on his shoulders? To save the Council or not, the future of the Rachni, the fate of the Geth heretics, it seemed that he was making these choices on an almost daily basis, single-handedly shaping the future of galactic civilisation.
He took a deep breath, lifting his gaze to look back at his companions. Mordin, so proud of his work, and yet nursing a deep-seated guilt over the impact of said research. Here he was, holding the solution to the situation in one hand, paralysed by the ache of indecision as his huge dark eyes pleaded with the Commander for help. Garrus, a warning flashing in his deep-set eyes as his imagination assaulted him with images of a reborn Krogan Horde tearing their way through Citadel space as they wrought their revenge on the Galaxy. Jack, having been on the wrong end of so many medical experiments that she was understandably slanted against the cure's creation, and yet she saw the value of using it to help the Krogan.
"The Krogan have lived under the Genophage for too long. It's time to give them a second chance, let them try to lift themselves out of the ruins of their past. I don't doubt that there'll be a few troublemakers, but as long as Krogan like Wrex keep trying to make their species more than what it is, then they're worth saving."
Mordin wordlessly passed the OSD to the Commander, the insignificant little blue device glowing in Shepard's palm.
"I'll give this to Wrex today. He can have his scientists working on finishing it off and distributing it."
"I hope that we don't regret this down the line, Shepard." Garrus cautioned.
"Am inclined to agree with Shepard." Mordin said. "Have seen first-hand the reactions continued existence of Genophage inspires. Can stay to help complete research, if you wish."
"I'm going to need you back on the Normandy, Mordin. I need your expertise to help us prepare for the Reapers." Shepard said. He eyed the Salarian's injuries. "First order of business is to get you patched up. Looks like the Jath did a real number on you."
"Fotnar was… crude in his methods." Mordin said standoffishly. "Seemed to lack understanding that brute force is not always best way to obtain co-operation. Psychological torment much more effective. Pain can only buy so much compliance before injuries interfere with efficiency."
"Looks like we're nearly back at Wrex's camp." Shepard commented, looking out of the shuttle's window. "I'll go talk to Wrex. You guys get back to the Normandy, have her prepped and ready for lift-off as soon as you can. Much as I'd like to take a vacation on Tuchanka, we've still got to get to Stynos as soon as we can."
"Right you are, Shepard. And I'll make sure these two head straight to the Med Bay." Garrus said.
"Like hell you will!" Jack exclaimed obstinately. "I don't need to go to sickbay."
"You took a point-blank shotgun blast to the abdomen, Jack." Garrus said wearily. "No matter how strong your biotic barrier was, that'll leave a mark."
"I'm fine." She huffed.
"Jack, just go. It won't take Archer long to make sure you're okay." Shepard reasoned with her. She jutted out her chin defiantly, but held her tongue.
The shuttle glided down to hover above the Urdnot landing zone, touching down carefully in a swirl of dust. Shepard clambered out of the shuttle, turning to watch as it took off again to rendezvous with the Normandy up in orbit. The Commander moved away as the vehicle dashed up into the harshly bright Tuchanka afternoon.
Shepard stalked through the gloomy pathways of the camp, making his way to the heart of the settlement. He walked into the main courtyard of the Krogan Clan to see Wrex in yet more talks with representatives of various different clans. It looked like they were discussing the battle with Jath, recounting losses and victories, assessing observed tactics and suggesting new ones to use in the future. Behind Wrex stood Grunt, an attentive look on his face as he listened to the wisdom of the array of warlords and chieftains before him. The Commander noted that very frequently the other Krogan threw Grunt awe-struck glances, their eyes often drawn to the still-bloody brow plate he had torn from Fotnar's skull and strapped to his shoulder. The young Krogan's gaze settled on the Commander as he drew near, though none of the other aliens paid the human any attention as he stepped up to the Urdnot throne.
"We paid too high a price today, Urdnot Wrex!" One of the chieftains clamoured. "Clan Julton's warriors have been decimated, and the death of Chief Vras is a loss we may never recover from. What is to happen to our women, our young?"
"Peace, Julton Turgg! Your clan is welcome to remain here in the neutral ground with Urdnot until you recover the numbers to survive on your own." Wrex assured.
"And what of our losses?" Another Krogan asked. "Are you going to have all of us gather here till the Genophage wipes out the last of us? It'll take centuries for us to recover the numbers we lost today."
Wrex paused as he tried to think of an answer, and his red eyes turned to the Commander.
"Shepard! Hurn's had nothing but praise for your performance today. You may just have another fan in him." He rumbled. "Jath Fotnar presented a threat we could not ignore. The fact that he had so many of my supposed 'allies' poised to attack us shows just how dangerous he had become.
"But now he's dead, and we've got one less obstacle to overcome before we unite the Clans. And our ancestors can rest easy now. I've sent some of our number to repair the damage in the Halls. Urdnot will be taking care of the Dead Spire until another clan can be appointed to the task."
"What happens to the remnants of clan Jath and their allies?" Shepard asked.
"They're to be given the choice; submit to Urdnot's rule, or be destroyed." The Urdnot chieftain raised a hand before Shepard could protest. "Krogan warfare isn't like that of humans. There are no non-combatants in a clan. Each and every last individual is a dangerous fighter. I'm hoping the last few Jath warriors see reason. Their clan was host to many prestigious bloodlines, and it would be a shame to lose any of those old families because their final generations were too block-headed to know when to quit."
"They will comply or perish." The voice of the Nakmor ambassador rumbled out. "We guarantee it."
"I appreciate the support of each one of you." Wrex said graciously. "Now, return to your clans. Spread word of the glory you have attained this day."
The chieftains nodded, lumbering away from the Urdnot throne. Eventually only Wrex, Grunt, the Urdnot Shaman and Shepard remained. They watched the chieftains leaving, then turned a set of wide grins on each other. Wrex let loose a deep belly laugh and leaped to his feet, stepping up to the Commander and nearly flooring him with a bone-breaking slap on the shoulder. Shepard coughed out a few laughs as he tried to keep his footing. The trio's laughter echoed about the camp.
"You just keep on amazing me, Shepard. Another Thresher Maw, and another Chieftain! There's nothing that can stop the pair of you!" The Shaman chuckled.
"Well Grunt did most of the work today." Shepard admitted modestly. "You should have seen him take on the Maw. No gun, no armour, just an ancient spear and his bare hands. From the looks of things, he was damn near about to try and bite it to death!"
"It was a good fight, but don't forget that you were the one who brought down Fotnar's gunship, and then fought him hand-to-hand by yourself. I've never seen a human take on a Krogan Battlemaster like that and come out with his head attached." Grunt reminded.
"I couldn't believe it when he came shambling out of that wreck." The Commander said. "Nothing I've ever seen could have survived that."
"Fotnar was strong, stronger than most chieftains." Wrex commented. "There's not many beings in the Galaxy who could have gone toe to toe with him."
"I am glad to have been Shaman during these past few years." The Urdnot Shaman said. "I have been witness to the rise of some of the greatest warriors our people shall ever see. Urdnot Wrex, the chieftain whose wisdom and cunning overcame the Genophage to make the Krogan whole again. Urdnot Grunt, the strongest warrior our people have ever known. And his Battlemaster, the alien Commander Shepard, an unstoppable force charging across the Galaxy and reshaping it with his very presence. Other Krogan might not be able to see it just yet, but I know I stand in the presence of legends of the future."
"You may be right." Wrex said as he dropped back onto his throne. "Grunt certainly proved his courage today. His performance during the Rite of Passage showed his combat ability, but today he showed he was willing to leap into the jaws of death for his krannt. A promising trait in a warrior. Even better in a leader."
"What are you suggesting, Wrex?" Shepard asked curiously.
"If you are suggesting what I suspect, you must bear in mind the effect this could have among your allies, Wrex." The Shaman warned. "Strong as Grunt is, he's still a tank-born, and the offspring of Okeer. Allowing him into the Clan is one thing…"
"Who I choose as my successor is entirely my choice." Wrex said, a tinge of anger in his tone. "He's not ready yet, but has much potential."
"Successor?" Shepard asked incredulously. "You want to make Grunt the next Urdnot chieftain?"
"He's got a lot to learn yet. Okeer may have taught him the facts of being a Krogan, but he hasn't been given the knowledge he'd need. But yes, I think, given time, he'll be fit to succeed me. Should he be willing to do so, of course."
Grunt stood stock-still, clearly surprised by the opportunity laid before him. His jaw worked silently, trying to formulate the right words. Eventually he frowned, dismissing the look of surprise on his face, and his expression became more focused.
"It is an honour that you think me worthy to follow in your footsteps. I will do what it takes to be ready."
"Good boy. You've got the skills in battle, and the courage in the face of danger, but you'll need more to be a chieftain. That's why you must stay with Shepard for the time being. A warrior must always follow his Battlemaster. Plus, I can't think of a better teacher. Watch the Commander, see how he leads his troops in the battlefield."
"Chieftain." Grunt bowed formally.
"Now, go see Fortack about getting some new armour. I doubt your old stuff will still fit."
Grunt stomped off to see the Urdnot scientist, and was swiftly followed by the Shaman, who made his own way to his usual spot, overlooking the Urdnot camp. Shepard noticed a significant limp in the older Krogan's gait, and was reminded of the last time he had met the Krogan, and the Shaman had hinted at the many rites he had to endure for his position in the clan. The Commander's attention was pulled back by a quiet cough from Wrex.
"Now that its just the two of us, Shepard, why don't you tell me what you found in Jath's fortress? My warriors went to look for any of their research into the Genophage, but the clan's databases had been wiped by a virus. Did you find any of their work?"
Shepard's next few words lurked in the back of his throat, reluctant to come out. Here he stood at the final instant that he could change his mind, hold his tongue. His last chance to keep the data and guarantee the Krogan would not become a threat. But then he looked about the camp, and saw what Wrex had tried to forge his clan into, the work he and his kin were willing to do to make a better life for their entire species.
His mind wandered back to before Omega Four. Back aboard the Normandy, Mordin had confessed to his work on the Genophage. When Shepard had questioned him about the plague, the doctor had explained the nature of the Genophage, including the fact that it was carefully balanced so as to preserve the Krogan species at the same time as keeping their numbers in check. When pushed for an explanation of why he had worked so hard to keep the plague from being too powerful, the Salarian's reasons were simple, though surprising.
"Krogan as a whole violent, aggressive. Still… have outliers. Worth saving."
Shepard slowly pulled the data disk from his belt, tossing it to Wrex. The wily old Krogan had seen the debate in his face, and obviously appreciated and understood the difficulty of his choice. He lifted the OSD to his omnitool and streamed the data onto the holographic display, noting the complexity of the data.
"It's nearly complete." Shepard said. "Your scientists should have little trouble with crossing the Ts and dotting the Is. Mordin reckons it'd take a few weeks, tops before it's ready to start distributing to your people."
"This… this is… Thank you, Shepard." Wrex struggled to say. "I thought there might be some preliminary groundwork, but nothing this advanced. My people have been searching for something like this for over a thousand years. I won't forget this. With a cure for the Genophage, I'll be able to unite every last Krogan in the Galaxy under Urdnot's banner. Not just Tuchanka, but our colonies, all the roving pirate and merc bands. Hell, probably even the Blood Pack. And it'll all be at your disposal when the Reapers come calling. This I swear on the plates of my forefathers."
"I'm only doing this because I trust you, Wrex. Not your people. Keep them honest. If they restart the Rebellions, I will have to stop them, and I won't hesitate to protect the rest of the Galaxy from you all." Shepard warned.
"I know you won't, Shepard. And I'm only going to trust my people with this because you're here to stop them if things get out of hand. You're probably the only one who could."
Wrex stood up from his throne, walking over to stand before the Commander. A solemn expression on his face, the Krogan drew a long dagger from his belt. Shepard flinched in anticipation of some Krogan custom that involved symbolic self-harm or something, but Wrex simply turned the weapon in his hands, holding it hilt-first towards his old human friend.
"Take it. This belonged to my forefathers. Its what I used to kill Jarrod, all those years ago. My great- grandfather carved the hilt from the claw of a Rachni queen, about halfway through the Wars, but the blade's been around a lot longer. If there's any ceremonial item for clan Urdnot, that's it. Carry that with you, as a token that any Krogan warlord with a speck of honour will recognise. It can be a symbol for you whenever you need to call the Krogan to your side."
"Thanks, Wrex." Shepard said, accepting the dagger and sliding it into his belt to one side. "I'd best head back up to the Normandy. We've got to be heading out of the system by the end of the day. I'll swing by Fortack's and pick up Grunt. Are you sure you can spare him? You're a little short on warriors after this morning."
"We'll cope. With this," He said, indicating the OSD. "I'll have more allies than I can count. Besides, I reckon with the Reapers coming, you'll have more need of him than I do. Hell, I'd love to be coming with you too, but I've got responsibilities here, especially now."
"I understand. Take care, Wrex. Be sure to have your people ready for when the bad guys come calling. Next time you see me, chances are I'll have a whole fleet of the damned things on my ass."
"No different from any other day, then. Why change old habits now?"
Shepard chuckled as he walked away, leaving Urdnot Wrex sitting on his throne, reading the data that would save his people. The tough alien would have killed anyone who suggested it, but the Commander was sure that his eye glinted with a wetness that seemed grossly out of place on such a battle-hardened warrior.
~o~0~o~
Shepard inhaled deeply as he felt the cleaner, processed air of the Normandy fill his lungs. It was a relief after the gritty, sand-choked atmosphere of the Krogan homeworld. He stepped out of the shuttle into the frigate's cargo bay, followed by Grunt. The last two members of the crew to come back aboard, the pair formed an almost comical image, the towering Krogan, torso almost as broad as a skycar and lank limbs stretching as long as most Salarians grew tall. Shepard cut a much less intimidating figure by comparison, standing at only six foot and a couple of inches with a chest, while broad by human standards, not even half as wide as his comrade's. Grunt's armour, a gift grudgingly given by Fortack, was pitch-black, with a red pattern tracing joints and crossing the chest. Pipes and pistons were built into the elbow, knee and wrist joints, capable of delivering a powerful boost to his strength.
Grunt was toting a huge shotgun. It was basically a Krogan Claymore, but was built larger than traditional specs, designed for Grunt's larger-than-average hands. Shepard had a weapon similar, but smaller. The gun was no doubt capable of stripping away the most powerful of kinetic barriers and passing right through heavy armour. The Krogan was keen to test his weapon out, but Shepard didn't want that thing going off anywhere near him.
As they walked towards the elevator, Grunt sighed.
"Something wrong, Grunt?"
"Huh? No, not at all. Just… good to be back, I guess. I've been caged up for three months, doing nothing but float in that damned tank."
"What was it like in there?"
"They kept me sorta sedated most of the time, awake, but unable to move. They paraded the Salarian in front of my tank, whether that was to get me angry or to threaten him I'm not sure. They kept taking samples, probably to test the cure on, and that was about the only outside contact I had."
"I'm surprised Fotnar never tried to recruit you or something like that. He just kept you in that fishbowl for three months?"
"Fotnar was smart. He knew I'd never turn my back on my clan. And setting me loose would have been too dangerous. You saw what happened when you broke me out. He knew that was what he'd get if he opened the tank."
"I have to admit, it was worth it just to see the faces of those Krogan you surprised!" Shepard chuckled.
"It was a good fight. That's why I follow you, Shepard. You're where the action's at."
"We've got a whole boatload of battles coming our way, that's for sure. You might end up sick of war by the time we're through with the Reapers."
"I'll never lose my appetite for war, Battlemaster."
"I guess we'll find out soon enough." Shepard hit the control for the elevator, turning to face the young Krogan. He stared straight into the icy blue eyes, set beneath the half-formed brow plate. "How do you feel about Wrex choosing you to succeed him?"
"I am honoured." The Krogan said, though his face trembled with uncertainty. "But I'm not sure I am the best choice to lead."
"And that's why both Wrex and I think you will be, some day. Just watch us, and learn what you can. Wrex isn't that old, he'll be around for a good long while yet, so you've got plenty of time to work on becoming what he hopes for you to be." Shepard said as they got in the elevator and punched in their two destinations.
"Yes, Battlemaster."
"Go get yourself settled back in, Grunt. Your old Cargo Hold's just the way you left it- an absolute tip." The Commander said with a grin, indicating that his friend should step out of the now open doors.
The Krogan smiled as the elevator doors closed before him, and the elevator carried Shepard up to the CIC. The moment the Commander entered the command deck, he was greeted by Kelly, a smile on her gentle face.
"Welcome back, Commander! Another successful mission, and we got Grunt and Mordin back!" She said, her chirpy voice light.
"We've done well today." Shepard allowed. "I'm glad to get them back, and we've taken care of a very dangerous enemy. In all, I think we've all earned a cold one in the Lounge."
"Sounds good. I'll spread the word. In the meantime, you've got some messages on your terminal. One was marked urgent."
"Thanks, I'll go take a look." The Commander stepped over to his terminal, just on the other side of the steps leading up to the Galaxy Map. As he opened up his mail inbox, he muttered over his shoulder to the yeoman. "Have you had a chance to give Mordin a quick psych evaluation after he got back on board? I'm worried how his stay on Tuchanka might have affected him."
"I had a quick chat, but nothing in-depth. He's been through a lot of physical torture, but his strength has always been in his mind. The Krogan are too unsophisticated for psychological torment, so I think he's going to recover. I wonder what it was that convinced him to give in and work on the cure. They definitely didn't break his mind. He chose to co-operate."
"I'll talk to him about it." Shepard said, pulling open the topmost message on his list. "He's always borne a lot of guilt over his work on the Genophage. Maybe that's all it is."
"Perhaps. I'm glad to have him back. The ship wasn't the same without him. It'll be refreshing to have his energy in the atmosphere again."
Shepard nodded with a small smile before looking at the message blinking before him. He opened it, and was surprised when a wash of flickering green numbers flowed across his screen. At first he assumed a malevolent virus had infected the system, and was confused as to how EDI hadn't picked up on it, but then the numbers faded as quickly as they had appeared, and a small box of text appeared, reading: Security scan complete. The message then blinked up on the screen for the Commander to read.
Shepard,
Glad to hear your mission on Tuchanka was a success. While your choice to preserve the cure may not have been what I'd have done, I respect your judgement in this matter. I'm sure Wrex will handle the data responsibly.
I must also congratulate you on rescuing your crew. Grunt and Doctor Solus will be valuable assets in the war to come, and after their willingness to join your cause against the Collectors we owe them a debt of gratitude which would have been ill-served by leaving them to rot in a Krogan dungeon.
You're making impressive progress, Shepard, and I hope you continue to do so. I've received some troubling reports which indicate we'll need to act soon. I still need to nail down the details, but we may have a lead on Reaper activity inside the Milky Way. I'll be in touch as soon as I have some tangible data to send your way.
Stay safe,
Liara.
P.S. Here's a little gift from the last Shadow Broker. I'm sure the Normandy's lab will be able to replicate it. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to make it small enough for a human to use, but your Collector team mate, the Revenant, or a Krogan like Grunt should be able to wield it no problem. I am sure it will be useful.
Shepard pulled up a schematic which looked familiar. It was a modification that could be applied to any omnitool, enabling the device to project a powerful shield for a short while. The flat, red wall of energy was impervious to all kinds of attacks, and took a lot to wear down. The last Shadow Broker, the Yahg that had nearly sold Shepard to the Collectors, had used the device when Shepard and Liara had come calling, to great effect. The shield had deflected bullets, biotics, punches and tech attacks with ease. The one drawback was the fact it wasn't all encompassing, leaving parts of the body exposed around the edges. Nevertheless, it would come in handy.
"Commander-" Shepard looked up from his terminal as Kelly spoke. "While we're talking about our new arrivals, we'd best discuss Grunt."
"You've got concerns?"
"He's been cooped up for a long time. Even before our capture, he's always had a lot of pent-up energy that he's found difficult to control. I mean, he had to fight a Thresher Maw to work out the aggression he had built up in Okeer's tank. I think he might find it difficult to keep his cool on a ship as small as this one."
"What do you suggest? Yoga?" Shepard joked. Kelly shot back a serious glare.
"Very funny, Commander. Just keep giving him things to do. Take him out on your more violent missions so that he can vent himself on the bad guys. It may be wise for the rest of the crew not to get in his face."
"If he causes any trouble, I'll be the one getting in his face, faster than he can blink. Don't worry. I'm sure he'll keep his violent impulses in check. He knows I won't stand for any of that crap on my ship."
"I suppose so. He does hold you in high regard. It's like you're the parental influence Okeer never had the chance to give him. He'd go to any lengths for your approval."
"I'll make sure that respect is well placed." Shepard promised.
"I know you will." Kelly saluted. "I'd better get back to work. Good to talk, Commander."
Shepard nodded as she breezed past on her way to the elevator. He then turned and skimmed through his remaining messages. A few that he instantly deleted after reading the subject, mostly scams that requested his details in exchange for a fictional financial windfall, or some Hanar 'princess' with an offer he couldn't refuse. One message declared that his subscription to the Gerunno vid rental service had expired after three years of neglect. He chuckled at that one, as the reason he hadn't been renting was on account of being dead. He imagined the card he had been issued by the company was somewhere in Alchera's snowdrifts, among the remains of his old quarters on the first Normandy. There were a couple of messages from old contacts, happy to hear he was back in action after his brief disappearance. There was even a message from Westurlund news anchor Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani, requesting an interview to discuss what he had been up to in the past year, along with a not-so-subtle line about rumours of his links to a known terrorist organisation. Shepard didn't even bother to reply, simply putting it in the trash folder.
A few minutes later, he stepped back from the terminal, closing down his private files, and stepped around the map to stride up to the cockpit, where Joker was busy tinkering with his controls. The pilot spun around the second he noticed the Commander's reflection in the ship's forward windows.
"Hey Commander! That was, uh, that was a pretty tense situation down there. I know I wouldn't have liked to make that call."
"It wasn't easy, but giving Urdnot the cure was the right thing to do. The Krogan have suffered long enough."
"I'm with you on that. And hey! We got Grunt and Mordin back! That's just perfect." Joker said sarcastically. "Cause, you know, if there's two people in the Galaxy who I feel safe around, it's the Mad Scientist and your two-tonne beatstick of doom. One likes to test out all kinds of crazy experiments on me in the name of curing my bad bones, and the other can high-five me into the bulkhead like I was made out of jello."
"It builds character." Shepard said teasingly.
"Go on, laugh all you like. You won't be smiling next time you need hauling out of some Charlie Foxtrot and I'm mashed into goo on the wall." Joker said, spinning his chair back around to face front. "So did you need something, or are you just here to bask in the Joker-ey goodness?"
"I have our next destination planned out." Shepard said by way of explanation.
"What, and you couldn't just punch up the Map?"
"I wanted to speak to you and EDI first, without being overheard by the rest of the crew."
"Ooh, mystery on the Normandy! Hit me with it!" The pilot grinned.
"Serious time, Joker. Straight face." Shepard said sternly. "We're going to Khar'Shan next."
Joker's comedic demeanour vanished, replaced with a more professional attitude.
"We're really going into squint space?" He asked nervously.
"Yes. Liara's set up a meeting with a Batarian political leader who I want on our side. If we can make peace with the Hegemony, they'll be a valuable ally. The Krogan represent almost a third of the merc and pirate forces in the Terminus Systems. The Batarians represent another third. Imagine the forces they could gather."
"I wouldn't want to face that in a fight. You really think they could all be called together?"
"I do. And that's why we need this Etarn on our side."
"You got it. Do you reckon we'll see any trouble once we enter Hegemony space?"
"I suspect so. That's why I needed to speak with EDI." Shepard stood before the AI's holo interface. "I need you to plot us a route to Khar'Shan that will get us there fast, but will allow us to make maximum use of our stealth drive to avoid any confrontation. Work out when we'd need to discharge our heat build-up, and factor that into your course so that we aren't stopping in more heavily populated patches of space."
"Yes, Shepard." EDI said quietly.
"Done." She said only two seconds later, even as the Commander was turning back to speak with Joker. Shepard's eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"That was quick."
"It was a simple task, and I am an AI."
"Right." Shepard said uncertainly, a little put-out by the speed with which she had accomplished the task. "Maybe you should have a few back-up flight plans plotted out, too."
"Also done. I have two hundred and forty eight alternate flight paths plotted that have us re-entering Council space within a ten minute window of the optimal flight pattern."
"Okay, I get it." Shepard said huffily. "You're good at what you do. That's all for now."
"Stings when the machines let you know just how much smarter they are, doesn't it?" Joker teased.
"Yeah, yeah. Just set a course."
Shepard stalked back down towards the Galaxy Map, his footsteps echoed by Joker's chuckles. The Commander proceeded to step up to his spot above the Map, where he looked down on the holographic representation of the Galaxy as well as the command deck crew working around its edges. He keyed a few controls to open a channel and delivery a ship-wide announcement.
"This is Commander Shepard. We're about to head into Batarian space, right to their homeworld of Khar'Shan. I know it sounds strange, but we're on a mission of peace, to negotiate with one of their leaders.
"We're going to be running silent until we reach Khar'Shan, doing our best to avoid patrols and other less official contacts in Hegemony space. I'm not going to pretend that every one of the Hegemony's leaders wants these talks to succeed, and I'm certainly not about to trust them to let us move through their space undisturbed. But these talks must go ahead, whether we trust the Batarians or not.
"I want everyone ready for any trouble. From the moment we hit the borders of Hegemony space, the ship's status will be raised to combat readiness level two. That means weapons loaded and shields deployed, but no hostile action unless fired upon first. I'll do my best to make these negotiations a success, and I trust you, my crew, to give a fine account of yourselves, no matter which way things go. Begin preparations immediately. We set off for Batarian space within the hour."
He nodded to the command deck staff, a number of which were regarding him with looks of surprise, uncertainty and anticipation. Clearly they were unnerved at having to go so deep into enemy territory, but trusted their Commander to see them through it, like he had so many missions previously. Shepard left the CIC with a feeling of pride in his heart that his 'family' was made up of beings of such fine mettle.
~o~0~o~
The door to the Tech lab hissed open, and Shepard stepped through, coming to a swift stop as he saw what was inside. The entire length of the room was filled with a device, stretching almost from the door to the far wall. Wires and pipes expanded away from it in many directions, linking to a vast array of diagnostic terminals and power supplies.
As the Commander walked in, a small face popped out from behind the device, the huge black eyes and single horn on the head instantly identifiable. Mordin regarded Shepard for a second before vanishing again, squirming out from behind the contraption.
As the Salarian worked his way out, Shepard marvelled at the device. The fact that this had been put together in the time since Mordin had given him the cure to the Genophage was impressive. Shepard found himself wondering where the scientist had found the parts, and how he had ferreted them into his lab. His ruminations were interrupted as Mordin emerged from behind the device and approached. The Commander noticed there was no sign of the limp the Salarian had been sporting earlier.
"Shepard. Good to see you." Mordin said in his quick-fire manner. "Was… how do humans say it? 'Getting back into the swing of things'? Have been working on this for past hour."
"You built all of this in an hour?" Shepard asked incredulously.
"Not quite. Salvaged parts from damaged skycar in Cargo Bay. Saw vehicle and, after hearing from Vakarian about mission to Omega, had idea on new tool for use in field."
"How did you get this up here?"
"Elevator was a tight fit, but just managed after some adjusting."
"And what are you trying to turn it into?"
"Ah! Would like to keep it a surprise. Still a lot of tests to run, much work to do. Would not like to advertise results before certain can be done."
"Alright. While you've got a minute, I'd like to pass these on to you." Shepard lifted up his active omnitool, streaming the data Liara had given him to the alien's 'tool. "A gift from an old friend of mine."
Mordin studied the data for a few seconds before making a couple of noises of approval.
"Tri-layered multi-frequency kinetic barriers in a hyper-dense configuration, very clever. Requires a complete overhaul of power- ah! There it is! Secondary and tertiary capacitors to maintain power over extended periods. Will be impossible to reduce size of barrier, as dimensions are acutely tied in to shield strength. But should be usable by squad mates with larger build; Krogan, Turian, Collector… maybe large human male, like Zaeed. Will get to work on prototype. Suggest Grunt as candidate to test finished device, verify effectiveness."
"Glad you like it." Shepard commented. "Have you got a minute to talk?"
"Of course. No doubt you are wondering how I fared in Krogan dungeon. Am fully recovered now, thanks to treatment from Archer."
"Fully recovered? But you only got set free this morning! I can understand that the doc patched you up, but how can you be mentally ready to dive back into your work?"
"Forgetting Salarian metabolism. Processed emotions of relief, happiness and trepidation over cure in shuttle on way up. Still feel out-of-place being back here, but feelings will pass. Some memories of imprisonment hard to leave behind, but working helps to keep mind focused on the here and now."
"I… think I understand."
"Excellent! Was that everything?" Mordin asked as he crouched down, tweaking a few sparking connections.
"Just about. I'll leave you to your work." Shepard said, retreating out of the Lab.
~o~0~o~
Shepard left the elevator, stepping out onto the crew deck and swerving to dodge a pair of crewmen heaving a pile of equipment through the corridors. The two sweating servicemen paused to give the Commander room to negotiate his way around their heavy load, unable to salute with the awkward pile in their hands.
"Commander." Rolston said by way of greeting.
"What's all this, then?" Shepard asked curiously.
"Gunnery Officer Vakarian asked us to take this down to the Cargo Hold. I think he want's to put together a sparring area in the back of the hold."
"Really? An interesting idea. I know Turians have something like this on their warships."
"So he said." Rolston replied.
"So who're the odds on for topping the leaderboard?" Shepard smirked.
"Sir?" Rolston's voice was carefully even, the confusion an obvious mask.
"I know how these things go, crewman. Of course there's going to be some wagers made. Who's the favourite?"
"Uhh… Nobody, at the moment. None of us can figure out who'd win between you, Garrus and Grunt."
"Fifty creds say I floor 'em both before they can blink." Shepard chuckled. "Carry on."
Shepard moved past the two crewmen as they manhandled their burden into the elevator and into the Mess Hall. He walked around the tables, filled with chattering crew, and strode down the corridor to the Gunnery control station. Through the door he saw Garrus in an all too familiar position, stood over a diagnostic terminal as he ran some calibrations on the guns. The Turian looked over his shoulder as the Commander walked in.
"Shepard." He said by way of greeting. "Something you need?"
"Just came by to talk." The Commander said, making himself comfortable by leaning back on the doorframe just inside the small room, arms crossed in front of him.
"Sure. I've got a few minutes while EDI runs the latest numbers. Keeping these things firing straight has got a lot easier now that we've got an AI regulating the systems."
"Why not let her run the diagnostics?"
"Peace of mind, mostly. I'm not happy unless I've performed the checks myself. An AI might be smart and all, but I'm just not ready to give one complete control over our weapons systems."
"Whatever floats your boat, Garrus." Shepard said, understanding fully. It was the same reason that Joker manned the helm, even when the Normandy was performing the most basic of manoeuvres, the same reason Mordin relied on physical research rather than computer generated experiments. Having the equipment do everything was unsettling, even if the equipment was a sentient member of the crew.
"I bumped into Rolston on my way here. He was heading for the Cargo Bay with some kit, following your orders. Something about a sparring gym?"
"An idea I had on my way up from Tuchanka. I did submit a report, but I wanted to try it out with the crew as soon as I could. Having Grunt back on board, I figured it'd be wise to have a spot where the crew can work out their… tension… without tearing out a bulkhead."
"Don't worry, I approve. But you should've come through me first before you started shuffling the ship's furniture about. We're not a cruiser, space is one thing we don't have an unlimited supply of."
"I'll make sure it's not getting in the way of the ship's operation, Commander. I'm sure it'll prove more of an asset than an inconvenience."
"Well, the ship's design was a combination of Turian and Human ideals. That worked out pretty well. Maybe doing the same thing with the crew's activities during our downtime."
"Glad you're on board with it, Commander."
"Don't thank me yet. This concession comes with a price. If I've gotta take part in Turian customs, you gotta take part in some human ones. Next time we hit Earth, we're going to an old-fashioned baseball game."
"Wha-?"
"No buts." Shepard interrupted the Turian.
"Next time we're in the Local Cluster, got it."
"Good." The Commander said. "I'm just gonna get something off Rupert. Got time for dinner with your boss?"
"Sounds good. Just give me a second to close up in here."
Garrus met Shepard out in the crew mess in a matter of moments, opening one of the cupboards behind Sergeant Gardner's workstation and taking out a couple of packs of rations. The Turian couldn't indulge in the food that the human cook prepared, his dextro-DNA making any attempt to eat food suited to humans, or any species other than the Quarians, a potentially lethal experience. Whenever he visited a place with Turian or Quarian foodstuffs, he always stocked up on dextro food packs, hermetically sealed to prevent contamination from Gardner's supplies. Taking his silvery packs of food over to the tables and sitting next to Shepard, he smiled at the Commander as he opened up his meal.
"Most days I just eat as I work. Its good to take a break."
"Can't work all the time." Shepard said, shovelling down a big mouthful of beef stew, Gardner's dish of the day. "Sometimes it feels like there's no such thing as shore leave for us."
"True. We always seem to be chasing down some nasty thing or another. Mind you, it wasn't so different back when I was in C-sec. The worst crimes would always seem to happen during your day off, and you were the only one your supervisor could count on to get the job done. I guess the good guys never take a break."
"Meanwhile, I bet a rich old bastard like the Illusive Man has a whole planet reserved for his vacations. Hell, Vido Santiago had Zorya."
"Maybe we're on the wrong side of the business here." Garrus mused. "Ever thought about going pirate? Living off the loot we can steal, holing up in some base out in the Terminus. And, if the Council decide they need to send a Spectre after us, we've got our own one to fight back with."
"A tempting thought, but you'd never settle for working on the other side of the line. I give it a week before we're both itching to get back to hunting down the bad guys."
"You're probably right." Garrus chuckled.
The pair finished their meals, sharing jokes and reminiscing over the good old days. It seemed that meeting up with Wrex had unleashed a flood of old memories of their work aboard the first Normandy, and they were eager to think back to the days when they had taken on the mission to hunt down Saren, before Cerberus, before the Reapers, before Virmire. Finally, their plates clean, the two friends parted, Garrus returning to his station and the Commander heading towards the Med Bay.
Shepard stepped through the doors of the Med Bay to see Doctor Archer tending to Jack, the latter spouting a string of blistering curses as the doctor's tools probed about in a deep wound, searching for a few stray pieces of shrapnel fired from a Krogan shotgun. Medi-gel could seal up a wound, expedite the healing process, but it couldn't remove any foreign matter from deep inside the body. The metal spray from a shotgun could go deep, beyond the reach of a cursory examination, and while small, still presented a risk to the body, either through infection or migration to the vital organs. From the looks of things, Archer had managed to remove all but the deepest offenders, which he was working on. Jack hissed as a tool dug deep into her abdomen.
"Cut that shit out, or I'll cut your balls off!"
"It's necessary if we're to get all of it out." Archer said, a harassed note in his words. "This would go a lot easier if you'd just let me administer the-"
"Try to slip me any drugs and it'll be the last fucking mistake you make." Jack's brown eyes broached no argument, the threat clear.
"Okay, okay! No meds. But you'll just have to put up with the pain. A couple of slivers of the round have gone dangerously close to your kidneys, and another two have moved up towards the lungs. I don't take them out now, you could be dead by the morning."
"Maybe that'd be better." Jack seethed.
Jack looked like she was about to utter another series of curses, but then she spotted Shepard entering and her mouth set in a determined line, resolved not to show weakness in front of the Commander. Shepard felt a twinge of disappointment that she no longer trusted him enough even to show that she was in pain. Just before Omega Four, she'd opened up, and Shepard had seen the sensitive side of her, something she'd hidden behind the tough-girl bluster, the language and the coarse attitude. Now, after the apparent vindication of her opinion that getting into a relationship would cost her, the convict had clammed up emotionally in Shepard's presence, unwilling to even display the vulnerability that feeling pain might indicate.
The Commander watched for a few seconds before Archer sensed his presence and, looking over his shoulder, raised his eyebrows in an impatient gesture.
"Yes, Commander?"
"I was hoping to speak with you, Doctor."
"I won't be long here. In the meantime, I suggest you speak to our friend over there." Archer said, nodding at the Revenant, who was standing behind his desk against the far wall. "He's been acting a little strange since you all got back."
Shepard nodded and left the pair, the doctor resuming his work. Jack let out a tiny groan of pain as he dug in a little carelessly, the noise just escaping her lips as she tried to hold up the tough façade for Shepard's benefit. As the Commander approached, the Revenant turned his glowing yellow eyes to regard him, the creamy white orb where one eye had been damaged beyond use shining in the bright light of the Normandy.
"Something up? The Doc says you're not acting like yourself."
"A curious observation as I have not yet developed a sense of self to measure my actions by."
"That doesn't answer my question. Are you okay?"
"I am unsure. At first I believed it to be the loss of my people, but now I am not convinced. When I am not running data analysis for Doctor Archer, my mind is filled with images I cannot suppress. They do not make sense."
"Your entire species' consciousness has been funnelled into your mind, that might have something to do with it. What do you see?"
"I see planets, long neglected by sentient hands. Flashes of buildings, devices and creatures that I do not understand, and images of my people dying, and yet they are not my people. It does not make much sense."
"Is there anything in particular that stands out?"
"Nothing. It is like trying to watch a ship pass by at FTL speeds. The moment is gone before one's mind can process the image." The Collector shook its head uncertainly.
"Sounds a bit like when I had the message from the Prothean beacon running around in my head."
"You made mention of that in our last conversation."
"Maybe it's a remnant of the Prothean people, some sort of hard-coded genetic memory? I don't know how you'd be able to decode the images. I wasn't able to make any sense of the message until I got a hold of the Cipher."
"From that creature on Feros?"
"Yeah. Everything made a lot more sense after that."
"Do you still experience the visions?"
"Not since my death above Alchera. The images from the beacon are still there, but its like things have been sorted and put to rest now. They don't jump into my mind unbidden anymore, only when I try to recall them."
"The Cipher may be able to help me with my images."
"Perhaps. There's one person I can think of who might be able to help. I'll put out some feelers, try to track her down." Shepard promised. "In the meantime, try to find something to take your mind off it. When I had the visions, I just threw myself into my mission to stop Saren. But you burn out pretty quick that way. Try getting to know the crew. I think they're getting a bit more comfortable around you now."
"I will try. Thank you, Commander."
"Anytime. You can make a start right now. Tell me a bit about yourself."
"About myself?"
"We know next to nothing about the Collectors. I mean, until we took you on board, we assumed you were all like security mechs; basic programming and not much else."
"There is not much to tell. Beyond our research, there wasn't much to my people. We had no culture as other organic societies would understand it. We lived, served the wishes of our creators, and sought to learn about the races reaching for the stars in the larger Galaxy."
"What were the Collectors researching?"
"Any genetic traits not in keeping with racial averages. We used to make trades with slavers in your Terminus systems for anything unusual. Dyslexic Salarians, Asari with low or high biotic potential, albino Turians. We studied these traits, seeking to understand how the genetic potential of their races might be affected. We tried mapping changes that could occur in a race with the next thousand years, making predictions about genetic evolution in much the same way a meteorologist can read weather patterns, or a seasoned soldier can read the tactics of an enemy."
"Predicting tactics? You mean this was part of your plans for war on us?"
"Perhaps. It may be that the Reapers instilled our curiosity in genetics in us so that we would be able to provide them with data that could help them choose which races to make into slaves, like us, and which races to use in their reproductive process. Then again, they may have been plotting the most effective methods to launch a biological attack on the Galaxy. Much like when we tested that plague on Omega."
"What did you know about the plague?"
"Everything, thanks to the connection I shared with my brothers. But it was more than that. I was a part of the team sent to negotiate with the Vorcha, one of the Collectors responsible for distributing the Plague. I had first-hand experience with it."
"A lot of people died as a result of that plague." Shepard accused.
"I am aware." The Revenant said calmly. "The plague was designed specifically to wipe out the non-human population of Omega, and it would have done its job very well, had your Doctor Solus not been there. I am curious to speak with him. A scientific mind that can match wits with our technology is certainly a rarity."
"I'm sure the two of you will get on well together." Shepard responded. "You mentioned the Reapers gave you commands. Were they in regular contact with your people?"
"Not until the abductions of your colonists. For several centuries before that, we had heard nothing from the Reapers. But then we received word from the one who bore the human moniker of Harbinger. It compelled us to begin our large-scale abductions and begin work on the Reaper larva. It made little mention of what the new-born reaper was for, but I recall it making mention of 'replenishing the vanguard'."
"That sounds ominous."
"I suppose we will never know what was meant by that."
"You're probably right. Anyway, thanks for the chat. It was enlightening." Shepard said, turning to Doctor Archer just as he helped Jack to her feet. The convict swatted at him as he put a hand on her shoulder to steady her before stalking out of the Med Bay without so much as a thank you. The Doctor sighed before turning to the Commander.
"You wanted to speak with me, Commander?"
"I wanted to speak about Joker, actually. Have the pair of you made any progress in separating him from EDI?"
"Little more since your last visit, Commander. The risk of neural damage is still unacceptably high. Compared to this, the programming side of things is simple."
"Then I suppose it's a good thing I've got another specialist on board to help you out. Have a word with Mordin, get him to help you with you work. I expect the three of you to be able to do something."
"If I may be so bold as to ask, Commander, why is it so important? Joker is functional as he is, and his reaction times have been improved by fifty per cent."
"He can't go far from the ship in this state, Doctor." Shepard replied. "He's a prisoner aboard the Normandy as long as his mind is twisted up inside EDI's. Plus, have you given any thought to what will happen if, say, the Normandy were to be destroyed? We're going to war, Gavin. Casualties are likely. If EDI's lost, what happens to Joker's mind, all tied up with hers?"
"You make a compelling argument." Archer conceded. "We'll step up our research. I'm sure having Doctor Solus lend his expertise will be a boon in our efforts."
Shepard nodded in satisfaction before leaving the Med Bay.
The Commander's next stop was the Observation Lounge, where he saw Samara in her usual spot, staring out into space silently as she manipulated a glowing orb of energy. As quietly as he tried to enter, the Asari still heard his footsteps and tilted her head to the side.
"Shepard." Her serene voice said.
"How do you know its me?" Shepard asked with surprise.
"Your air of confidence and authority is hard to mistake, Commander. You lend an atmosphere of danger and security to the space you inhabit."
"Thanks… I think." Shepard said uncertainly. He stepped over and knelt next to Samara. Sensing his presence directly next to her, the Asari opened her brilliant sapphire eyes, the white biotic glow fading from her irises and pupils as her vision focused on the human beside her. The biotic blue tendrils were extinguished as she lowered her hands, the ball of energy dissipating.
"I heard of your decision to give the cure to the Krogan today, and I wanted to let you know that I believe you chose the best course of action. My grandmother was killed in the Rebellions, so I have no illusions about the threat they present, but the Krogan have grown beyond the level of civilisation they occupied back then. Now that they have tasted the consequences of the rash actions that sparked the conflict, they should have a greater respect for the value of peace."
"It wasn't an easy choice. And I'm still not sure whether I'll regret it further down the line." Shepard admitted. "But the genie's out of the lamp now."
"I am unfamiliar with such human terminology, but I suspect I can guess your meaning."
"How did you do it? For four hundred years, you meted out justice. How did you decide what constituted a just or an unjust action?"
Samara winced at being reminded of her time as a Justicar, and Shepard kicked himself for broaching the subject so soon after her exile. Clearly it was too soon to bring this up.
"For the most part, our Code made the path before me painfully clear. As long as I obeyed the sutras of the Code, I was just. If I strayed, I was unjust. But, beyond that, I knew the correct path in my soul."
"There were no times where you had to choose between paths that weren't clearly right and wrong?"
"As I have told you before, the Code of the Justicars makes no room for grey, only black and white. However, there were times when I was forced to choose the lesser of two injustices." She looked up at the Commander with the shadow of a smirk on her lips. "Sometimes, the greater injustice would have been to obey the Code."
"You mean like when you exploited that loophole in your code so as not to kill the police office on Illium?"
"I stuck to the Code, though not necessarily in the spirit most Justicars would have interpreted it. I would have been perfectly in my right to gun that poor woman down for obstructing me in my investigation, but certain conventions in the Code made it possible for me to leave Illium with little innocent blood spilt."
"I… think I see. You didn't twist the Code, but you gave priority to certain tenets when it became impossible to do everything expected of you."
"Close enough. Of course, now I am only guided by my own moral compass, not a series of ancient texts their writing occurring in an era which nobody even remembers."
"I wanted to speak with you, see how you're doing now."
"My time spent meditating has done me some good. I am healing, and I feel at peace."
"We hardly see you in the Mess Hall. After all that time in the Thessian mountains, are you sure you need more solace here on the ship?"
"Aside from my time here before Omega Four, I have not had the joy of the companionship of others for several centuries. Even with you trying to help me the last time I was aboard, I am still very much out of practice. Given what has happened in recent days, I feel it is better for me to remain here. I have to admit, the prospect of having to face so many in close association intimidates me as much as I intimidate them."
"No way! The Asari with no fear is scared of having to make small talk?"
"You unsurprisingly find this amusing." The Exile's voice had a tinge of annoyance to it.
Shepard paused before answering, considering the being before him. Before Omega four, Samara had always exuded an air of confidence, an aura of nobility and pride that at times could be intimidating. However, a lot had changed since then. Aesyyri had wrought a change in the old warrior, and now Shepard noted a more fragile Samara, her armoured persona now vulnerable.
"I'm here if you want to talk." He said tenderly. "You know you can speak to me."
"I appreciate that." Samara responded gratefully. "You have always been a good friend to me, Commander. Though I have to admit my repertoire of small talk is somewhat limited."
"Last time we talked, you made mention of your bondmate. I've never heard you talk about her."
"Notana." The Asari's voice was still, though there was the barest shadow of fondness in it. "She was a strong young maiden, working as a Commando for the Republics when I met her, nearly seven hundred years ago. We lived a happy life together on Thessia for over two centuries, during which we were blessed with three beautiful daughters."
"What went wrong?"
"Everything changed after Notana died. She was killed during a pirate raid on a passenger transport between Thessia and Forua, a planet on the edge of Asari space. The loss struck all of us deeply, though my beautiful Mirala seemed the most distraught at the loss."
"Mirala…?"
"The name Morinth bore in her previous life. In ancient Asari the word can be translated as 'Moon's Heart'. It was Notara's choice." Samara smiled at the memory. "She was always enraptured by the light of Thessia's two moons. She'd say that the moons were kinder than the sun, a source of light that didn't hide behind their own brilliance." She chuckled. "She was always the more fanciful one in our pairing."
"She sounds like a wonderful woman."
"And a good companion through the long years of an Asari lifetime. Understand this, Shepard; pureblood pairings are rare, mostly due to the commitment required. With most alien species, we do not have to think of the length of time that we must spend abiding by our choice, what with the comparatively short lifespan of humans, among other species. I do not mean to offend you, merely state fact. When one Asari bonds with another, they must be certain that this being is the one they are ready to spend an entire millennium with."
"You must have really loved her, to be ready to take such a step."
"I still do. Even though she is long gone now, I still carry her face in my heart, her voice in my soul. A benefit of the melding process is the fact that we are never truly separated from our loved ones. We remain in their minds, and they remain in ours."
"How did you cope after losing her?"
"It was not easy. I struggled to keep my family fed through the following years. My daughters were still in their teens at this point. In human years, they were little more than babes. Such a young family should not have to bear such devastation."
Shepard shuffled over to throw a companionable arm about her shoulder, to comfort her. He was a little pleased when she did not pull away. Previously, when he had tried to comfort her over the fate of Morinth, she had kept her distance, her code keeping her from drawing close to anyone, even a trusted friend like Shepard. Now, though, she accepted the gesture, taking strength from his presence. Even as he gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, she continued to talk.
"And yet we persevered. We found a way to exist, and lived full lives for some time after that, until my daughters' condition was brought to light. Then I became a Justicar, Falere and Rila went into exile in their monastery, and Mirala was twisted into the monster that you knew as Morinth."
She straightened, resuming her meditative pose before the window.
"Thank you for listening to me, Commander. I have never spoken to another being of these matters, save my daughters. It has been… good to share."
"We're all the poorer if you close yourself off from the rest of us, Samara."
"Indeed. Perhaps we can continue this conversation later. I must now return to my meditations."
"Of course." Shepard stood up with a groan, and turned to leave.
The Commander stole one last glance at the exiled Justicar, and noted a strange mark on her neck. Almost hiding among the tentacles at the base of her skull, a dark symbol stood out on the nape of her neck in a vivid blue. It looked like the skin had been cut open and then forced to heal in such a way as to leave the dark blue scar tissue standing out from the rest of her sky blue skin, a bold mark. He realised that this must have been another mark of her exile, yet another obstacle between her and her family. Then the doors hissed shut and she was gone.
~o~0~o~
Shepard's last stop was on the engineering deck. He wandered past the door to the Normandy's engine room, spotting the two Engineers, Ken and Gabby, working feverishly to fix some part or another. He chuckled as he heard the young woman berating her male companion for his clumsiness.
"Keep that transducer steady, blockhead! My god, I'd sooner be working with a Krogan."
"That can be arranged, Gabs." Ken threatened. "I can go call Grunt, if you'd prefer."
"Do that, and I'll have the Salarian give you something in your next meal to make your balls drop off!" Gabby shot back. "That brute's barely fitting in the Cargo Bay, let alone in here."
Shepard chuckled at the pair's antics before slipping over to the Starboard Cargo Bay, where he opened the door a little more cautiously this time, having learned his lesson from the close shave last time he'd gone to visit Zaeed. Inside, The mercenary was busy organising the vast piles of ammo crate into a configuration he liked. Shepard noted that a few charred items had been dug out of the mess in the back of the bay, from the barely recognisable remnants of a large Krogan helmet to the barely holding together model of a Turian ship. Zaeed turned at the noise of the door opening and threw Shepard a triumphant grin.
"Shepard! What's eating you this time? If it's the Alliance sap complaining about where I stow my weapons, tell him to cram it."
"No, Kaidan hasn't made any complaint. Why? Are the two of you not getting on?"
"I think he's got something against bounty hunters like me. Likes to pick a fight whenever he sees me, bringing me up on some reg or another I ain't sticking to. Does my bloody head in, but I'm not going to be the one to lay him out for it. It's your boat, your crew."
"Kaidan's just done things by the book all his life, its natural he'll not be comfortable with someone like yourself who doesn't play by Alliance rules."
"A typical attitude these days. Reminds me a bit of the Cerberus totty we had stalking about here last time. She loved to hear herself spouting Cerberus' set of rules and regulations at us. Did my sodding head in."
"Wouldn't have thought you'd let something like that get on your nerves, Zaeed." Shepard chuckled.
"I'm getting on now, dammnit! I'm allowed to be grouchy." Zaeed heaved a final crate onto the top of a pile. "So if you're not here to read me my rights, what do you need, Commander?"
"Just checking in, seeing how the crew's getting on."
"Aside from the sap, I'm doing fan-bloody-tastic at the moment. Hey, look at this!"
The merc shuffled over to a nearby pile of crates and opened the topmost one, lifting a weathered old rifle out of it.
"I found her this morning." He said, a possessive gleam in his eyes.
"Is that… Jessie?" Shepard asked.
"Damn straight! I knew a tough old bitch like her wouldn't find her end in a Cerberus raid. She'd fallen down under one of the deckplates and wedged there." Zaeed cradled his favourite rifle in one arm fondly.
Shepard was about to say something when his communicator beeped. Joker's voice rang out from his omnitool.
"Hey, Commander? We're about to hit the edge of Batarian space. Just letting you know that we're going to silent running now." The pilot informed him.
"Roger that, Joker. I'll head up to the CIC to keep an eye on our progress." Shepard closed down the omnitool and nodded to Zaeed. "Arm up, old man. We've got a busy couple of days ahead of us."
Zaeed lifted Jessie's muzzle to his forehead in a crude salute, a casual gesture that most by-the-book soldiers, like Jacob or Kaidan, might have found disrespectful, and turned to gather his equipment. Shepard, meanwhile, made his way up to the CIC and his post above the Galactic map, where he could watch their path through Hegemony space. As they moved further and further into Batarian space, the crew's mood grew ever more tense and solemn. They realised they were travelling into territory into which no human had ventured into before, and were well beyond any reinforcements, had any of their allies the lack of sanity necessary to launch a rescue mission into Hegemony space.
The Normandy purred as she cruised through the space between stars on her way to Khar'Shan, homeworld of the Batarian hegemony and meeting place for the negotiations with the mysterious Etarn Kol'mehk.