A/N: So many references! First, go read The Ballad of the Revenge, by Tennyson. Also, I think there's only a chapter or two left until I let this go, waiting for ME3. Takes place after Arrival, sorry for the shitty editting the first go around. What do you think?
Hackett left without another word. I limped along back to the bridge, where Jacob threw me a salute. Everyone else nodded., working furiously. The crew scurried about, trying to lay in supplies, repair damage from the suicide mission. Sparks fizzed, and a tech yelped. I glanced over as she shook her hand and sucked on the tip, cursing the burn. I walked up to Kelly, looked her up and down. She shrugged.
"Looks like a hard go ahead, Commander. Hackett's a good man, but I think he might try to stop the defection. We still have quite a few repairs to do, and the bank accounts are running a little low."
I raised an eyebrow.
"So, are you suggesting we find work?"
"Not yet, Shepard. But we may want to go a little easier on the ship. The Normandy is still in rough shape. We're still patching holes in the hull. The crew deck is a bit of a mess, and with all the costs of repairs and rearmaments, along with all the new bodies...well, we have a lot of new hammocks. We shook like a leaf during your most recent rescue."
I smirked, running my hand along the nicked wood of the railing. Shrapnel had wrecked a lot of the surfaces on the bridge, leaving them gouged and splintered. Even the deck looked like hell. It felt like an old ship of the line, and I remembered the image I had of the Revenge, all splintered and torn up, the crew bloody. And I remember seeing this painting, a view from the San Phillipe, of this wrecked little ship, with the crew on the deck, teeth barred and all bandaged as Spaniards lowered themselves down for another round.
"Hard pounding. Let's see who pounds longest," I said, grinning wolfishly at her.
"Excuse me, Commander?" Kelly asked, voice raising an octave and turning red. I looked up, realized what I had just said. Grinning sheepishly, I shook my head.
"Just quoting Wellesey, the man who beat Napoleon. Basically, this is going to be an endurance thing. I know things look bad, and I know things will be rough, but we'll make it through. But glad to see your mind is in the gutter, Yeoman," I said wryly. I patted her on the back before heading to the elevator. I had to get to the medbay.
Chakwas had a snifter of brandy waiting for me when I got there. Samara was meditating, arm in a sling. Kasumi dozed against a bulkhead, and Jack paced about experimentally on her crutches. She saw me enter, waved. I waved back. Chakwas ushered me into her office, sat me down.
"We're desperately short of people, Commander. A lot of them are banged up, and I'm overworked. I don't know what I'm going to do. Jack's alright, though she complained like hell about the crutches. Samara should be fine, she just dislocated her elbow when she landed after your most daring rescue yet. I sedated Kasumi after pulling that fragment from between her ribs. Oh, and Tali's looking much better, wouldn't you say?" she spieled off between sips of ice brandy. I smiled, nodded, took a few swigs myself. It was good stuff, to be honest.
"Thanks for looking after everyone, Doc. Anything you need, aside from more medics and supplies?"
"Shore leave couldn't hurt. I noticed something bizarre," she said, frowning a touch.
"What's that, Doc?"
"Jack was quiet. She didn't verbally abuse my orderlies, or me. And she mentioned you."
"What did she say?"
"She asked about you, how you did the whole hero thing all the time. Asked for a copy of your fleet jacket and a basic rundown of quarian physiology."
"Well, I suppose that's good news."
"Just odd, Commander. Damned odd. You really must visit more often, I don't have many opportunities for breaks these days."
I nodded, finished the little cup of brandy, thanked her. Legion stepped in from his datacore, raised his flaps.
"Query, Shepard-Commander. Do you have a moment?"
I looked at Doctor Chakwas. Usually, I came to him , trying to pick his brain and squeeze answers from the metal. It usually didn't work. I nodded.
"Our apologies to Chakwas-Physician. This platform hopes she understands a need for privacy."
Chakwas just stared, mouth open, and nodded. I followed him through the bulkhead, and listened to it close. There were a pair of hastily, crudely welded chairs, covered in plastic stuffed with something. He...it gestured.
"This platform's research and observations of crew behavior have indicated that a seating option places humans at ease. Please sit."
I stared at it, watched him watch me as I sat down. His bizarre words about my armor didn't help things. Legion sat down across from me, ramrod straight.
"Shepherd-Commander, we have been observing and recording the crew for some time. We have observed that you are the subject of the vast majority of the dialogue onboard the Normandy. Of this, 99.7% of recorded interations are positive. More than 33% of females onboard regard you with what can only be described as amorous intent."
I leaned back, threw one arm over the back of the chair, found it surprisingly confortable.
"Nice chair, by the way."
His flaps raised, and he approximated a nod.
"We thank you, Shepard-Commander. May we continue?"
"Sure, I guess."
"Males aboard the ship regard you as a platform to emulate. We do not understand the nature of your relationship with the crew. It is puzzling, especially regarding interactions with females. We wish to understand the nature of this relationship."
I smirked at him.
"Specify," I responded laconically. A flap rose quizzically in response.
"Despite garnering the vast majority of female courtship attention on the ship, you are well liked by male crewmembers. Despite having selected Creator-Tali'Zorah as a companion, Jacqueline Nought maintains hope of a romantic relationship with you, as well as Miranda Lawson and Kelly Chambers. All four have extremes of emotion directed at you, generating positive behaviour in order to gain your attention and affection. To be blunt, they fight like geth for you. We do not understand- are you not engaged in courtship rituals with Creator-Tali'Zorah?"
"What prompted this line of questioning, Legion?"
"Recent attempts to inquire about specific human behaviours have met with limited success due to this platform's limited understanding of organic and specifically human customs. There has been repeated contact with Jacqueline Nought in order to attempt to correct the deficiency, but Jacqueline Nought's lack of sociability most times has proved a hurdle."
"So, you've been talking to Jack? What's she been saying?" I asked, to clarify. It was a strange idea. Jack mostly kept to herself in her little alcove these days, but she was getting better about dealing with most people. She hadn't tried to break anyone's jaw in at least a week. Legion's flaps lifted. "First off-duty encounter logged as follows:"
ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME
There was the sound a glass breaking, cursing from Legion's sound system.
"We hope we did not startle you, Jacqueline-Crewman."
"Fucking hell, Tin Man! I almost blew your head off!"
"This platform will announce himself earlier in the future."
"Fuck! Well, what the shit do you want?"
"Company."
"Company?" Jack said, seeming incredulous. There was a sloshing sound, and the clink of glass on metal again.
"We seek to understand you, Jacqueline-Crewman."
"The fuck? Call me Jack, Tin Man. Don't make me break my knuckles on your flashlight."
"Understood, Jack. We take it you want us to sit?"
"I did just point at a chair, numbnuts."
"Numb-nuts? This platform does not have genitalia, or even gender."
"Shut up, Tin Man. Just sit. I'd offer you some, but...yeah."
"Vodka. Belaya Rus. Upper tier. Produced in..."
"Shut up. It's the Good Stuff."
"The good stuff?"
"Real alcohol, not synth. Not like you'd understand."
"Then help us."
"I lived hard. Cheap booze, lots of fights. Had to scrap to get what's mine. To keep food in my belly. Shep's been good to me...more than good to me. He's saved my life. This is the best I've been treated, the best life I've had in...well, ever. I always thought I'd be dead by now. Hell, I thought I was going to die in the hole in Purgatory. I've never thought I'd live this long. And Shep's got me thinking I might live longer, if we beat the Reapers. I've got a home now. It's a first."
ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME
He ended the transcript and looked at me.
"So, how often have you talked to her?"
"Approximately five times in two weeks, Shepard-Commander."
"Has she said anything else about me?"
"Yes."
"Are you going tell me what she said?"
"No."
It was a long day. I drank a solid pot of coffee, chasing reports, talking with Tali, dealing with maintenance and interviewing new recruits. We had everyone from turian medics to quarian mechanics to deal with. Apparently, word about me had gotten around quite a bit. After a long day's work of vetting people, consulting with Tali and Garrus, we all decided to find Zaeed for a well-deserved drink. We asked EDI, and she pointed us down below to the hangar deck. We found him surrounded by drop troopers and marines, lecturing with a beer in his hand and a smoke in his mouth. A couple of mostly empty cases were strewn about, most of the men with beers in their hands as he gesticulated. Jack was draining a beer quietly off to the side, seemingly lost in thought. Noticing me quickly, he turned and smiled.
"Fucking Shepard. I was just telling these fine young men some of my war stories," he said, swinging his arm to encompass the men and women perched on gym equipment and crates. "Reminding them of how things were in the old days."
"Hard and unpleasant? Coal power and sails?" I said jokingly, putting my hand on Tali's back as she grabbed a beer for each of us. Zaeed narrowed his eyes, and shook a finger at me with a more serious smile than I was expecting.
"Lemme tell you a story, Shepard. In the beginning, there was Cain and Abel. God said unto them, he says, 'Boys, I want a sacrifice.' So Cain and Abel set off, and go get their shit. Cain brings fruits, veggies, grains, and all that other bullshit, right? Abel brings his biggest ram and best ewe. They burn both - alive as far as I can tell, because Old Testament God is like that- and God blesses Abel but not Cain. Cain arsks God, he says 'God, why isn't the shit I grew good?' and God says simply, 'Blood has power.' So Cain looks at his brother, and hefts his shovel. He bludgeons his own brother to death, in cold blood. What does God do then?"
"Human theology is fucked up," Garrus managed, shaking his head. He always had trouble with it- so many different traditions, so many unfathomable ideas to his ordered mind.
"He asks him where his brother is," intoned Jack. I looked over, surprised she knew. Tali cocked her head, and everyone else remained silent. Zaeed lifted his smoke, took a deep draw.
"Penny for the pretty lady. Cain gives that famous excuse, am I my brother's keeper? So God gets pissed, because he knows better. But he calms down, and says to Cain, 'Here's the deal. Blood was always the key to power, and as such, I'm going to mark you so that others won't be able to harm you without suffering seven times that to themselves. But you fucked up, so the earth will never give you comfort again. What's the lesson?"
There was was a pause as he looked around everyone, a bit wobbly.
"There's power in blood. Always was. But there's a terrible cost. You don't just pay hell, or give hell. You own it. So what's worth that?"
Zaeed looked around, and one resolute NCO stood.
"Saving others," he said quietly. "My Pa once told me that no matter what, to give all I have to give. To save his life, the lives of thousands, millions, billions? I would pay it."
His beret was jammed under an epaulet, and the newly-minted wings on his cap badge glinted.
"That's why we're here. We believe in the Commander, and what he wants to do. If we have to play Abel while Cain saves everyone from the Reapers? That's fine by me."
Zaeed stared the young man down, and nodded. "But then again, you're not paying the worst of it. The Commander is- he's the one playing Cain, getting no rest, no respite. People like you are his mark. Think on it," he grunted before he wobbled to his feet. I couldn't say anything I just sort of stood there, shocked. My mouth opened and closed a few times, and I managed to choke out a low 'dismissed'. Everyone else stood, and we all started to filter off until it was just me, Garrus, Tali and Jack. They all looked at me. I couldn't do much but shrug. I finished my beer, put it down on the table a little harder than necessary, walked away. I heard the others start to talk as I walked into the elevator. I closed my eyes, leaned back. Jack made it there first, throwing herself around bodily on her crutches and got in with me as Garrus and Tali talked urgently. I caught a glimpse of Tali chasing after Zaeed as Jack threw herself into the elevator, barely making it. She slammed her body back against the elevator wall, panting. Her leg was still casted, after all.
"Zaeed's just being an ass."
I nodded numbly, remembering all the people I had lost. She punched my shoulder, and threw me half a smile. I looked over at her, tried to clear my head.
"I hear you've been teaching Legion manners."
She raised a sculpted eyebrow at me and flashed those pearly whites.
"Well, since you stopped visiting, I haven't got much company. He listens real good, and can't judge me. He doesn't pry, and puts me to bed when I get drunk. I know you've been busy as fuck, but come by at some point. We can tip one back. I owe you that much."
I stared at her. She ran one hand along the back of her head awkwardly. I remembered her throwing the bottle of whiskey in the hotel room, the angry person always raging and throwing things around...and here she was, doing her best to comfort me, in her own way. I put a hand on her shoulder, didn't say anything. I left her on the elevator with a smile. Looking over my shoulder as I walked into my cabin, I nodded.
"Thanks, Jack."