Ch 37
Strategic Retreat
Shuttle in Route to the Normandy
If there was any hope the Reaper war would be anything but devastating, Menae dashed that hope aside. Struggling, Shepard and his squad had barely been able to extract the new Primarch, who was flabbergasted by his new promotion. Indeed, Victus was almost angry about the possibility of leaving his troops to die alone while he left to play politics. A feeling the Commander was all too familiar with, as was the others in his crew.
They all sat in silence on the Kodiak, the methodical hum of the engines reverberating through the metal floor. Strapped into the chair next to James, Shepard sat across from Victus, who was still clad in his dark red armor, helmet resting on his knees as the Turian stared blankly at the ground. It was Jame's snoring that caused Victus to stir, Shepard finally noticed it too, his squad-mate had fallen asleep, leaning against the bulkhead as a pillow. A low rumble escaped James's throat as he slept, showing that he was miraculously sleeping comfortably despite his position.
"Are all Humans that loud when they rest?" Victus asked, glaring towards Shepard with anger and annoyance in his stare.
Ignoring his question, Shepard instead looked in the pair of seats next to Victus's, separated from his by the open door of the Kodiak's cockpit. In the pair of seats sat Liara and Garrus, the former looking a bit more worse for wear. She had removed her chest piece and helmet as soon as they had stepped aboard the shuttle, her armor completely covered in so many different fluids and blood that even a Krogan's stomach would churn. Now she sat there quietly, another thousand yard stare across her face as she leaned against Garrus, who had wrapped his arm around her shoulders to comfort her. Once they had gotten comfortable, Garrus too took the brief respite to rest, leaning his head down into his large collar and dropping his helmet to the floor. Shepard kept his eyes on Liara the longest, her apparent shock was eating away at him from the inside.
It was the Arbiter that took up most of the cabin room in the Kodiak, he decided not to take up the two remaining free seats across from Liara and Garrus, and had instead chosen to sit on the drop-ship's floor, leaning against the cabin door for comfort. With his right leg bent, he rested an arm atop it, plasma sword hilt still gripped tightly in his grip. The other leg was spread across the floor, stretching almost halfway across the shuttle. Despite his impressive stature and slender appearance, Shepard could tell that even the old warrior was exhausted. Even though he was covered in the same grime as Liara had been, it didn't seem to bother him as much as it had her, though his shields had managed to stop most of it from ever touching him as opposed to Liara's kinetic based barriers.
Studying the strange alien, Shepard wondered how it was he was still awake. It had suddenly occurred to him that he couldn't recall once seeing the alien sleep since taking him aboard the Normandy.
Cortez snapped Shepard out of his thoughts, calling to him from the cockpit, "Having to take the long way around, Commander, space is getting a little too thick with action. ETA to Normandy is 30 mikes."
Leaning forward, Shepard rested his head in his palms, pushing his arms against his knees to support the extra weight. "Just let me know when we get there," he muttered, giving off an exasperated sigh. Rubbing his hands across the back of his head, Shepard struggled to release his stress. It had been almost an hour since he escaped the war zone that was Menae, yet he could still feel his heart racing, the blood being pushed to every part of his body keeping it noticeably warm for the colder air of the shuttle. Even with all of his past experience, he was somehow still shaken.
"Since we have the time," Victus said, as if sensing Shepard needed the distraction. "What exactly is your plan, Commander?"
Shifting his weight back, Shepard sat up into his chair, pushing against the back of it for support. "Excuse me?" he asked, having not paid attention to the Turian's words. Instead, his mind was still wandering, still flashing back to Menae and the war on Palaven.
"Your plan?" Victus spoke, this time a bit louder, crossing his arms and gaining a crossed look on his brow. "In case you missed it when I mentioned it before, my service would be much better suited fighting with my brothers and sisters to hold Palaven. Not going halfway across the galaxy to play diplomat with you and Sparatus. I'm a warrior, not a politician."
A low chuckle grew from the Arbiter, his shoulders and chest moving with the rhythm of his laughter. "You and I have that in common, Turian," he said, now looking up towards the two of them. "If the rest of your kind are half as determined as you are, we may yet survive this."
Victus only responded with a cocked eye and another scowl, turning instead back towards Shepard. "Commander, you realize that your other Spectres had a dossier on your friend here. I believe it was a standing order to consider him extremely dangerous and to 'shoot on sight.'"
Unable to ignore the awkwardness that followed, Shepard leaned forward in his seat, giving a halfhearted smile for the Primarch. "A lot's happened in a short amount of time. We should know better than anyone how useless old grudges can be. Remember Shanxi?"
Upon hearing of the name, Victus grew visually agitated, as if offended by the comparison. "We never glassed your colony, and the Hierarchy was more than generous with their compensation. Besides," he leaned forward now, pointing one talon towards the Arbiter who still laid sprawled against the door, "it was your government that asked us to help kill them."
Again, Shepard couldn't help but feel uneasy at Victus's assertion, though he still managed to find a laugh from the Primarch's attitude. "Changing the subject after a thinly veiled apology, Primarch I think you'll make a better politician than you give yourself credit for," he said chuckling.
The remainder of their trip was filled next by silence.
Normandy
Upon reaching the Normandy, Shepard and his crew moved in an unusually sluggish demeanor, appearing almost zombie like to the rest of the crew. This was made all the more apparent by the Commander's exceptionally long time spent in his private cabin. Only after he had managed to scrub off the thick layer of sweat and grime that had developed under the layers of armor, a process that caused his shower to struggle through the ship's water heater and grow increasingly cold, Shepard lethargically put on his working uniform. Normally he would take the extra time to prepare his blues, careful to ensure his appearance was up his normal standards. But after such an exhausting mission, the relative comfort of the looser fitting pants and shirt were far more preferable than military formalities. He was the ranking officer on board after all, no one would challenge his dress code.
Once fully dressed, Shepard proceeded down to the war room to meet with Primarch Victus, a chore he wished sorely didn't require his attention. There was an apparant level of agitation that the Turian seemed to ooze, a feeling he couldn't necessarily blame him for. They were all far too familiar with how the Primarch was feeling. Still, the idea of dealing with him instead of climbing into his bed left Shepard with a feeling of dread.
Stepping off of the elevator, Shepard was stopped by Traynor, who turned away from her terminal to face him, holding a spare datapad at her side. "Commander," she started, stopping Shepard dead in his tracks, "there are a few..." She stopped suddenly, frowning ferociously at the sight of him. "Are... are you alright? You look absolutely dreadful."
Unbeknownst to Shepard, while he had managed to wash away most of the physical debris that plagued him, his body still wreaked of over exhaustion. His eyes lagged behind every source of stimulation they were presented, dragged down by large dark circles that had formed underneath. Normally he would keep his head tall, almost stoic to some of the crew, but now he was visibly shorter, hunching down as he walked towards Traynor
"I'm fine," he said sharply, annoyed by the question. "Now what is it that you have?"
Pulling up her datapad, Traynor gripped the device in both hands, holding it against her chest as if to hide behind it. "I um..." she started, taking a small gulp of air out of a mixture of embarrassment and fear. "EDI wish to speak to you in the AI core, she's been malfunctioning since we left Halo. Also, Admiral Hackett left a message about some kind of archaeological find on Eden Prime."
"Hackett?" Shepard said, perking up a bit at the news. "What did he say?"
"I'm not sure, sir. It was marked for you, 'eyes only,'" she answered, shifting her eyes away from his nervously.
Stretching his right shoulder, Shepard rolled his around its shoulder joint, rubbing it with his other hand until it made an audible pop, relieving the tension. "I'll check on that later, is that it?" he asked, starting the same process again on the other arm.
"I um..." Traynor started, shaking her head clear of any possible doubt before continuing. "No there was a distress signal sent from Grissom Academy."
Having his interest peaked, Shepard inquired further. "Distress signal? What happened?"
To answer, Traynor flipped her data pad around so Shepard could read it clearly, taking note to point out the coded signals she had just been pouring over. "I don't know exactly, but that's not what's so bizarre about it."
Starring over the datapad, Shepard cocked an eye brow intrigued. "What was so bizarre then?"
"A Turian cargo ship responded to it, but it didn't use any codes I was familiar with." As she continued in her explanation, Traynor's face light up with excitement, almost beaming at her apparent discovery. "Curious, I did a comparison with EDI, we matched the signal to the same one that Cerberus used to lure you to a Collector ship. It was faked!" It was apparent by her pure giddiness that Traynor was proud of her find, having spent more time going over the data and glaring over it than focusing on Shepard's reaction. Which, upon noticing, caused her to shrink away from him, hiding again behind the small datapad.
"Cerberus," Shepard started, now rubbing the back of his neck trying to crack it too. "That's a damn good catch, Traynor." He gave her a small smile, hoping to make up somewhat from his more harsh and rude tone from before.
"In any event, whoever faked the signal still wants us to believe Grissom Academy is being evacuated. But I believe they're still in danger. If this really is Cerberus..." By now Traynor was rambling, almost incoherently, double guessing herself more and more as she spoke.
"Traynor," Shepard interrupted, cutting her off from finishing the thought. "Good catch."
This brought a smile to peek its way through her face, removing any sense of doubt she had incurred. "Thank you Commander."
Normandy Crew Deck
Since she had joined Shepard all those years ago on Therum, Liara had seen her fair share of combat in her adventures across the galaxy, seeing sights that the rather young Asari never thought possible. Places where she was the first of her kind to ever set foot on, something that unequivocally set her above many of her other academic peers. More so than that, she had been through every kind of battle imaginable when fighting alongside one of the most famous Spectres the Council had to offer. And though she knew ever since they discovered the truth behind Saren and the Reapers the fights would only get worse, Liara was still taken aback by what she had just encountered.
Perhaps it was the complete disaray of the Turian military, a strength her mother had told her was unstoppable, something that had to be weighing harder on Garrus than her. Maybe it was overtly chaotic fight her and the Arbiter had experienced. Liara was use to firefights, battles, even the harsh calls military leaders had to make, one of the many painful lessons she had learned since becoming the Shadowbroker, but never before had she had to experience a war.
As soon as they landed on the Normandy, she had rushed to her room on the third deck, if for no other reason than to be alone in the otherwise cramped ship. In a trance like state, Liara removed her pieces of armor, tossing them aside randomly on her floor as she staggered over to her bed at the back of the room. Removing her final ceramic boot, Liara was left in the thin ballistic nylon that had provided cushion between her armor and skin. Instead of removing it, she decided to clamber onto her bed, desperate for the relief of sleep. Unfortunately, it never came, forcing her to stare blankly at the wall as she lay down on her side, arms wrapped around her shoulders for both warmth and comfort. She stayed like that, for what seemed like hours, before giving up entirely on the notion of rest.
Grabbing a towel from her nightstand, Liara started toward the bathroom, eager now to wash off everything, physically and mentally. She walked through the crew deck like a ghost, more focused on the SSV Normandy logo that adorned her towel than on where she was going. Passing the port observation room, Liara finally noticed James and Garrus were standing in the door way, each one leaning against an opposite frame of the open door, apparently halfway through a conversation that must have led them through the rest of the room beyond. Somehow, they had both managed to change into more comfortable civilian attire. James dressed in his normal white undershirt and uniform pants, Garrus had found himself a tight fitting black Turian shirt with an alien symbol over its center that fit snugly around his body, though he still wore the lower half of his armor for a reason Liara was unable to guess.
She passed by them without catching their attention, ducking her head below her shoulders and throwing the towel around her neck to avoid conversation. Right now, Liara only wanted to be alone. At last she reached the female bathroom on the opposite side of the ship. Eagerly, she ducked into the shower, carefully placing her towel and jumpsuit onto the counter that lined the wall just outside the shower head's reach. Soon she was soaked in water, massaging her every aching muscle. Closing her eyes, she let her face be washed over by the water's warm embrace.
"Goddes," she moaned in a pure state of bliss. So enthralled she was, Liara failed to hear the door to the restroom slide open. It was only after she heard footsteps, did Liara realize someone else was in the room with her. Of course, she paid them no mind, the Normandy's crew came and went as they pleased, and she had grown accustomed to leaving herself vulnerable in the shared quarters.
"Asari," came a rather deep and raspy voice, an unexpected sound that forced Liara away from the water and instead focus on her visitor. Instinctively, she started lowering the water, already expecting an awkward encounter. Sure enough, before her stood the Arbiter, who was loitering over the sink across from the toilets, starring at them as if unsure of how they operated.
Blinking away water, Liara grabbed her towel to cover herself. "Excuse me," she stammered, a bit flustered by the male alien's sudden appearance. "Human ships have certain customs and the male bathroom is on the opposite side." Liara had to pause for a moment to think how odd the idea of dual bathroom's sounded. Normally, Asari ships and stations would only have one type of bathroom, something her mono-gendered species would never have thought twice about. Now she had become so accustomed by the Normandy's rules that she was even subconsciously following them.
"I am aware," the Sangheili started, finally deciding to turn one of the sink's nobs to begin the trickle of water. "And you will excuse my intrusion, the other latrine was apparently, malfunctioning." He carefully fitted his large hands under the relatively small faucet, wetting them liberally.
It was only now that Liara realized the Arbiter was out of his normal armor, the ancient intrinsically designed pieces that normally adorned his body were nowhere to be seen. In fact, the only thing he wore was a purple in color mesh that covered his lower half, clinging tightly to his waist. This was the first time Liara had ever seen the alien in such a vulnerable and strange state. The scientist in her wanted to study his body further to see how it differed from her own, but this was neither the time nor place.
"Are you okay then?" Liara asked, her towel still pressed against the front of her body shielding it from view. "It's understandable if you don't know how any of this works."
Looking now towards her for the first time, the Arbiter nodded his head in a thankful manner. "The customs and technology are... strange, not to mention uncomfortably small," he said, looking over his shoulder towards the toilet. The image of the rather large alien trying to squat over the john caused her to chuckle. "My sincerest apologizes for intruding on you then, Doctor." Quickly, he turned to leave, shaking his hands to dry them rather than fiddle with the dryer that was too small for him anyways.
"Wait," Liara called once the door had opened, causing the Arbiter to stop dead in his tracks. "On Menae you said you weren't worried about my safety, what did you mean?"
Turning slightly to more easily face her, the Sangheili rubbed the underside of his neck before responding. "I am worried about your Commander, the Shepard."
"Oh," she muttered, puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"It is obvious in the way he watched over you on the shuttle ride there and back. He cares deeply for you, a kind of fondness I have not experienced myself since youth."
Unable to control herself, Liara could feel her face blush. "Oh," she mumbled again, looking down so as to avoid the Arbiter's direct gaze. When she looked up again, the Arbiter was gone, apparently done with their rather short interaction. "Shepard," she said, grumbling to herself as she wrapped the towel around her body. "What am I going to do with you."
AN: Super freaking proud of this chapter. Hope ya'll liked it.
Couple things though. Since I'm delving into the neat and gritty of ME3, I need to start getting out the details of it too. I'm gonna try to touch on most if not all the squadmates (Sorry but Jacob may end up getting the ax) and their respective side missions. Some may not get an entire chapter, some may only get snip bits. But almost everything story wise is not really gonna cover what happens in game exactly. As you saw I kind of skipped from finding the Primarch to getting him to the Normandy, and that's because nothing there really needs to change from the games. It doesn't really make sense for me to write over something that most if not all of you have played through probably dozens of times by now. So I'm taking more time to write the in-between. The real fun parts of Mass Effect where you have the squad interact on the ship to themselves and to Shepard. Using the ability for writing to delve much more into specifics to make the world seem a little more real. Obviously nothing in game ever describes how the armor is set up on Liara or how she might take it off in pieces. Obviously nothing in the game takes place in the showers. So this is a chance for me to expand and add on what's already there. The reason I'm doing this only for ME3 and not for the story involved in the first two halo games is that the mass effect campaign is much much longer than anything in Halo, especially if you go through all the pretty much required side missions.
But let me know what you think and as always, thanks for reading!