War Room, SSV Normandy SR-2

0930 Zulu

21 June 2186

FTL transit to the Citadel, Widow

It's surprising that the feed's so clean, considering the shape it was in before they touched down on Mars; now Hackett's voice cuts out every tenth word, rather than every third. She'll have to remember to congratulate EDI later, when the admiral stops running his mouth. But he's got another couple of minutes left in him, it sounds like. "...We're gonna analyse that prothean data with all speed," he tells her, and that gets her attention. "We don't know what it is, but we can tell it's big. The Illusive Man wasn't chasing his tail with this." She tenses, still looking down at her knuckles. "...Commander," he prompts, when she doesn't answer him. "This was a win we needed just when we needed it. You did good work today. With the Crucible, we just might have a shot at this thing."

"Maybe," she concedes, still not looking at the holo. Before the admiral can take exception, though, Kelsa slowly turns her face up again, until their eyes meet. She knows he sees deep green, not a hint of red, except from the dried blood on her face. He sees a soldier, a woman, a person. He sees a lie. "I don't wanna know, either way," she gruffs. "Coordinate with Liara."

If she wanted to avoid making the old man scowl, she sure as fuck failed. "Commander-"

"You keep calling me that," she cuts in, answering his scowl with one of her own. "You act like I'm a soldier again, like I'm doing my duty."

"Well aren't you?"

"No," she tells him, biting back the sir that her instinct has at the tip of her tongue. "Anderson stayed back on Earth because he's a soldier doing his duty. You left Arcturus because you're a soldier, doing your duty."

The holo of Hackett sighs. "You followed my orders, Shepard," he points out. "I sent you to Mars, and you did a hell of a job."

She shakes her head. "I didn't go to Mars to find a weapon, or to help you win your war," she admits. I went to Mars because it meant I might not have to wait another week to kill something. That doesn't make me a soldier."

"What does it make you, then?" He asks, already looking like he isn't going to like the answer.

Kelsa takes a long breath and slowly lets it out. "A Reaper," she whispers, just loudly enough for the comm to pick up.

The old man looks wounded, more like a disappointed father than a commander facing mutiny. "Oh, Shepard," he sighs. "You're not a Reaper. You're fighting them, harder than any damned person I know. That's a hell of a symptom of indoctrination, I'd say."

"I'm not indoctrinated," she says. Probably, she doesn't. "But the only fucking thing I've ever been any good at is killing people; I lost count of how many, after Aratoht. All I know, all I want, is blood. Tell me that doesn't sound like a Reaper, and I'll call you a goddamned liar. I'm fighting them because they're even better at it than I am, and I wanna see if I can kill a few of the big ones before they win." She shrugs. "As far as I'm concerned, the rest of you are already dead. So you can send me where you need to send me, as long as there's plenty of Reapers to fight, but don't expect me to help you with the Crucible, or any other plan you're cooking up. I'm not interested."

Hackett chews on her insubordination for as long as he can, but she knows as well as he does that there are a thousand things demanding his attention, and there's fuck all he can do about it, anyway. "Alright," he growls. "That's the way you want it, I can treat you like a hammer, and every problem like it's someone else's thumb. I'll coordinate with Dr. T'Soni. But Shepard, don't give up on yourself-or on the rest of us-just yet. Hackett out."

The image dissolves and leaves her alone in the comm room, except for EDI's omnipresence. "Joker," she barks, not ready to leave the little room. "ETA to the Citadel?"

"About three hours, ma'am," the pilot replies. "Sure as fuck hope Ash makes it that long."

"Liara's taking care of her," Kelsa says, like that's enough to end it. Joker must think so, too, since he doesn't answer. She takes a breath. Ash is dying because she's a soldier, doing her duty. If Kelsa'd done hers, Ash wouldn't be lying in the med bay in an induced coma with ICP threatening to make her sleep permanent. On Mars, Ash had all but accused Kelsa of working for Cerberus, still, some sleeper or sympathiser or something. But she'd stepped up anyway, put herself between Liara and a Cerberus mech that Kelsa wasn't fast enough to catch...at least until it had nearly bashed Ash's head open. Fuck knows whether they'll get to the Citadel in time to save her.

Kelsa stands there leaning against the holodeck for another couple of minutes, chewing on Mars, until a nervous cough sounds just behind her, in the mouth of the war room. She doesn't flinch; if it were an assassin she'd be dead already, and it can't be Liara, since she wouldn't've left the med bay. She takes a breath and turns around, slowly, but not slowly enough to keep her attendant from jerking into a nervous salute. "Specialist Samantha Traynor," she sounds off. "Reporting for duty, ma'am."

Kelsa's eyes sweep down the soldier, instantly cataloguing all of the details; 158 centimetres, fifty kilos, upper-class British accent and caramel skin. Resting breaths indicate asthma; that plus lack of muscle tone and no weapon peg her expected survival time at less than a second. "What are you doing on my ship, Traynor?"

The woman carefully drops her salute, pulling her lower lip between her teeth. "I was assigned to oversee the retrofits of the comms," she explains. "I specialise in large-scale array integration over the FTL buoy network, but I also have experience in QEC and sigint, ma'am."

"When was the last time you killed somebody?"

The woman swallows nervously, and Kelsa knows the answer before she says a word. "I...never, ma'am. As I said, I was assigned to help reintegrate the Normandy's comms systems into Alliance networks. I've only had to use a service pistol for quarterly certs on a range."

Kelsa grunts an acknowledgement. "I expect you'll be wanting a transfer once we hit the Citadel, then," she judges. "I bet Hackett'd love to get your ass back in a lab."

"With all due respect, ma'am, I think I'd rather stay on. That is, if...if you'll have me."

"I got no use for a tourist or a geek on a school contract," Kelsa rebuts, pushing past the woman-even shorter than Kelsa herself, and far less dense. It doesn't bother her much when Traynor flinches back out of the way.

To her surprise, EDI speaks up for the woman. "Specialist Traynor has proven invaluable in rewiring the shipboard communications array," she says. "Moreover, she has analytical intuitions that I lack. I would prefer her to remain aboard, if that is possible."

Kelsa stops short, throwing a raised eyebrow up at the ceiling before she glances back over her shoulder. A second look at the specialist isn't much more enlightening than the first; she's a civ in a service uniform that she's got no business wearing. For her part, Traynor is too incredulous to blush at the renewed inspection. "Since when does a virtual intelligence express preferences?"

"Ah," Kelsa grunts, with a smirk. "EDI's an AI; fully self-aware." If there's anything that should scare a lab geek off a ship, it's the prospect of being locked in a tin can floating around in deep space with a sentient machine in charge of recycling the air. Instead of flinching again, however, a deep blush finally covers her caramel cheeks, staining them to an even richer brown. That bit of extra colour catches Kelsa's attention, stirring up an edge of emotion she hasn't felt since she went to Siberia; she can't place it, at first, or maybe she just doesn't want to. Soldiers can afford to get stupid when a pretty woman blushes at them, but monsters can't. Monsters can't get flutters in hearts that don't exist.

Oblivious to the scrutiny Kelsa has her under, Traynor's attention focuses on the ceiling. "So you, er...were fully conscious when I said those things, about your...voice."

"Of course," EDI replies. "Specialist Traynor displayed a playful sexual attraction to the sound of my voice," she explains. "I believe organics interpret such attention as flattering when it is not intended to cause offence."

"Oh, God," Traynor groans, hiding behind her own hands. "I'm so sorry, EDI; I had no idea that you actually understood me. I..."

"It's alright," Kelsa grunts. "I'm pretty sure Cerberus made her sound like that to get me to like her better. Didn't work for me-no offence, EDI."

"I am not offended, Kelsa," the AI assures her. "But you should not be worried, Specialist Traynor; a cursory extranet search reveals that organic sexual attraction to synthetics is quite common."

"Oh, God," the specialist groans again. "Please make it stop."

"You can't handle a little TMI from a curious AI, you're on the wrong fucking boat," Kelsa gruffs, barking a laugh. When she speaks again, though, there's more bite than bark in her voice. "Are you a soldier, or just a tourist?"

Traynor jolts to attention, her cheeks browning darker from a different sort of shame. "I am a lab geek," she admits, "but I am also an Alliance marine, and I am fully capable of helping the war effort on a shipboard assignment, ma'am." If anything, she sounds even more proper than before; that last ma'am came out as marm, which means she must've slipped back into English, like she would've used in boot.

Kelsa raises a brow. "We're gonna see S2S," she points out. "You have any idea what S2S with a Reaper's gonna be like, even with Joker at the helm?"

The younger woman pales a little bit as she considers. "I've seen what they can do," she insists. "And I am prepared to go wherever you might take me, ma'am."

Kelsa considers her for a few heartbeats before she throws another glance at the ceiling. "You sure you want her, EDI?"

"Yes," the AI responds. "Specialist Traynor would improve my communications performance and allow me to focus my processes on evasion and firing solutions during combat. With Jeff's assistance, I estimate a 5.273% increase in our life expectancy."

Five percent's better than nothing. Five percent's enough. "Alright," Kelsa concedes, giving the specialist a grudging nod. "But there ain't any transfers," she warns the woman. "You walk away now, or you stay committed. If you don't leave, your ass is mine until you die. Understood?"

There's just a breath's worth of hesitation before Traynor nods. "Understood, ma'am."

"Alright," Kelsa says again. "You report directly to EDI from now on. Dismissed."

Traynor snaps a salute and scurries away with another yes ma'am. Kelsa catches her eyes drifting after the specialist and she frowns, blinking to break her gaze as the younger woman makes it through the door. Monsters don't get to stare, either.


Starboard Observation Deck, SSV Normandy SR-2

1715 Zulu

24 June 2186

FTL transit to Menae, Palaven, Trebia

"Looks like you're set up pretty well," Kelsa concedes, after a cursory glance along the walls. The observation windows have been welded shut and covered with a broad bank of monitors, and Liara's original modifications to the starboard observation deck have been restored and improved upon in just a few days. Now nobody who isn't Liara can possibly get into the room when it's empty, even EDI, except the hard way. Kelsa'd love to see somebody try the hard way. "Glad you're making yourself at home." It's what she said the last time they were alone in this room...the last time they spoke privately.

"Thank you," the asari replies, without quite meeting Kelsa's eyes. She looks like she's trying not to remember what happened the last time they shared this room. "...How is Ashley?" She didn't follow the gurney, too busy working on this room; there are still naked cables crossing the floor and some boxes strewn about, but the bulk of the work is done.

"Ash'll live," Kelsa grunts. "She's tough. Almost as hard-headed as me, and she didn't get her skill reinforced with microfibres."

She forces a smirk and starts turning on her heel, ready to go, but Liara speaks up. "Hopefully your communications team doesn't waste time trying to decrypt my ciphers."

It's a shot in the dark, a stab at keeping Kelsa from up and leaving, but the monster can't help feeling a touch defensive. "I'll have Traynor steer clear of your traffic," she vows, trying to shake off the odd stab of guilt tickling at her ribs. "Unless you need her."

The asari nods, and that should be the end of it, but when Kelsa does turn around, Liara takes a step forward. "Wait...Kelsa," she calls, swallowing hard when the monster throws her another glance. "Have you reconsidered our last conversation?"

So you do remember after all. "The one where I said I would kill you if somebody got to you again," she summarises. "I haven't reconsidered that, no," she admits. She closes her eyes, sees a flash of purplish blood streaking over a wall, feels her gut clench. "As I recall, you said you wouldn't push it."

"That is true," Liara concedes, but she doesn't look even a little bashful, now. "But I have reconsidered, and I believe that you should, too. I love you, Kelsa," she vows, and the monster feels her heart thud in her chest, "and I know you feel the same. That is not a weakness; it makes you stronger than Miranda's implants ever could."

Kelsa turns back to face her lover, her scowl tightening. "Aren't you old enough to know how fucking stupid that sounds?" She wonders, and every word is like a dagger in her gut. "Timmy killed Feron, and he damn near killed you, just because he knew I wouldn't be able to pull the trigger. He got a Reaper out of the deal, and fuck knows what else on that base, all because I love you." She shakes her head. "I should've let you die on Therum; it would've been easier, then. But I can kill you with my bare hands if it comes down to you against the mission." She's shaking, close to yelling, too close to being human. Monsters don't have to yell to scare you.

Liara stands there, as calm as a mountain in the face of a monsoon, and she actually smiles. "If I were to become detrimental to the mission again, I would expect no less," she answers, and her smile changes just enough to show the edge of a deep well of sadness she's trying to hide. "But you cannot handle this alone, Kelsa. It's too much to bear, fighting this war, even for a mind as resilient as yours." She takes another step forward, almost close enough to reach out. "You can share your burdens with me, my love. I am here."

"I'm not really a sharing kinda person," Kelsa says, frowning at remembered conversations with Shiana, across the glass. She shared too much, and every word of it came back to Liara; she'd known that at the time, but she still shared too much, anyway. "Unless you mean fucking," she grunts, on a mad impulse to dive into the sadness she sees hinted in the curve of Liara's lips. "Never had too much of a problem with that kinda sharing, even after you came along."

Liara looks confused for a moment, and then cold for another, before she reclaims her little smile. The sadness is gone, now, or too subtle even for Kelsa's ocular implants to notice. "You mean to anger me," she observes, "by reminding me that you took other lovers after your...recovery. Before you came to Illium."

"You know," Kelsa grunts, letting out a low breath.

"I would be a poor Shadow Broker if I did not," the asari replies, and this time a sheen of darkness flashes in her eyes. "I also know that you presume such an insinuation will hurt me, perhaps get me to distance myself from you...from us. It is what you believe a human lover would do, in our circumstance. But you have made two grave errors in judgment, Kelsa."

The monster feels her cheek tighten with half a grimace, the old scars still pulling at her flesh even if they don't glow anymore. "Is that right?"

A sheen of black flashes over Liara's eyes, just for a second. "First, I am a very good Shadow Broker." Kelsa doesn't know what to make of that, but before she can figure it out, the asari pushes on. "Secondly, I am not human." Liara takes a breath of her own, but she doesn't move an inch. "Asari do not approach love in the same way many of your kind do. As a rule, we do not treat our lovers as precious commodities to be hoarded. I love you, Kelsa...that does not mean that I own you."

"What does it mean, then?" Kelsa wonders, feeling her throat go dry. "That you'd stand by and watch me fuck every pretty girl on this ship, and it wouldn't hurt you any?"

Liara's brow-ridges draw together, dimpling the pebbled flesh between them. "Only inasmuch as it would hurt you, to throw your heart away simply to keep it from breaking." She shakes her head, as if to emphasise the point. "But if you made a connection with someone else, if they were here to provide you a moment's peace and hope when I could not...I would be foolish to hate them. I certainly do not hate Miranda or Jack," she allows, and there isn't a hint of spite in her voice, not an inch of malice. "And if I cannot hate them for providing that which I could not, I cannot hate anyone else for meeting your needs now. That does not mean that I love you any less."

"You don't deserve somebody as fucked up as me," Kelsa protests, and she knows it sounds weak. Monster or not, she can't deny the tightness in her chest when she looks into Liara's eyes, and fuck knows she can't look anywhere else, in spite of the echo of darkness she sees there. "And I sure as hell don't deserve anybody half so good as you."

Liara reaches up, slowly, and Kelsa doesn't pull back when the asari's palm brushes and then cups her cheek. "You may think you know what I deserve, but you cannot decide whom I love," she tells her. Almost against her will, Kelsa finds herself leaning into the contact, but she finally manages to close her eyes. "And I love you," Liara says again. "I will be here for you, Kelsa. For whatever you need."

Kelsa takes a long, shaking breath, feeling the corners of her eyes get wet. She didn't used to cry; before the Collector base, she hadn't cried since Zug Island, not even once. But this makes twice since then...twice, and both for the same reason. But she pulls back from the asari's touch; before the first tears can fall, she turns away, and leaves without a backward glance.

She knows what she is.


Campus Helveticum Outskirts

0400 Zulu

25 June 2186

Menae (ashore), Palaven, Trebia

"You're a monster, Kelsa," Garrus trills in his two-toned voice, after she steals another one of his kills. In her defence, he was aiming with a sniper rifle, while she closed in hand-to-hand on the turian husk that was pinning them down.

"I can't help it if they dodge your shots better than my fists," the monster says, offering her friend a smirk he'll see through his scope; it's better here on the ground, in the middle of the war. Simpler than floating above it with nothing to do but wait. "You're just gonna have to get up close and personal if you wanna get the better of me."

"You're both fucking crazy," Vega grunts, from behind his assault rifle. "Loco. You know that, right?"

"I know there's only one human that can stand toe to toe with a Reaper-fied turian," Garrus answers, after taking another shot from his rifle. "And it's not you, hotshot."

Vega can't argue, or maybe Kelsa's too distracted by the four husks she still has to deal with; it's been a long time since she's fought H2H in LGLA, but her old N training kicks in, and she makes every move-and every breath-count. It ain't as bad as it could be; the turians have a local mass effect field set up around the moon, so that it's got Mars-level surface gravity and thin but breathable air, but it still takes a hell of a lot of coordination to take down the Reapers in front of her.

When they're dead, and the good guys (and Kelsa) have a minute to catch their breath, Vega wanders closer. "Hey, Commander," he grunts, as stubborn in using the title as she is in refusing it. "How come you keep going all commando on these motherfuckers? That spear-chucker of yours was plenty good back on Mars."

Kelsa wipes some of the blue gunk that passes for Reaper blood off of her face. She hesitates for a second before she decides that the truth is a little too complicated for her to explain to him. "There's a lot more of these things than Cerberus troops," she points out, "and the human kind are pretty dumb. I can distract them while you and Garrus pick them off."

"Yeah," Garrus butts in, "I'm not really sure how that's going to work while I'm up on that tower recalibrating the radio uplink; I'd prefer if you both kept the bastards off my ass, rather than showing off."

Kelsa looks straight into the turian's eyes and sees what she's always seen there...a soldier, reliable, depending on her to keep him in one piece. It doesn't matter that Palaven's on fire over his shoulder, that his dad and his sister are probably dead; they're on a mission, and she's got point on it. Turns out that monsters still have people that need tending to. "Alright," she concedes, straightening and drawing her Revenant assault rifle from over her shoulder. "You just get that tower back online."

"Will do, Kelsa."

"I still think you're fuckin' loco," Vega says, as the turian moves to the radio tower. "Ma'am."

Kelsa answers him by mowing down another pair of human husks that jump up from behind a big rocky outcrop, and the feel of the gun vibrating in her hands is the closest thing to peace she's felt since they left Siberia. She focuses on that peace as another wave of husks pours over the top of the ridge, sees the perfection that Harbinger wanted to bring her, and she does her part to destroy it, with incendiary rounds and omni-blades and a single-minded determination. Even after the radio's back up and the husks are all dead, a part of Kelsa wants to keep going, keep running until she finds more Reapers to fight, until she finds one good enough to kill her. But Garrus pulls her back, shifts her attention to the mission; just before the Omega 4 relay, he told her that he wasn't a very good turian, and that's true, from what Kelsa knows of turians. But he is a good soldier...better than she was ever gonna be. And that's enough to get her back to camp, back to her ship, and back to the war.

For now, that's enough.