Mom,

Ran into an old friend of yours today. Lieutenant Zabaleta. He recognized me. I couldn't recognize him, but he talked about the Einstein with such details that I don't have any doubt he actually knew you. Knew us, maybe?

Now that I've thought about it, I can match his eyes to a hazy memory of a couple of your soldier friends stopping by to have dinner with us?

He's not doing so well. I tried to convince him to let me help: to get him somewhere better than begging for credits in a Citadel hallway. He wouldn't go. I didn't know what else to do. I gave him his 20 credits and I'm sure he's going to spend it on more alcohol. I couldn't do anything else.

Damn it. Udina has so much to pay for.

If the Normandy weren't locked down...I'd call you. Screw protocols. I'd call you. And you'd tell me the exact right thing to say to him. Something I could use to get him back on his feet.

I was able to access his service record without comms access. It's not hard to figure out why he's at rock bottom. A dishonourable discharge. Before that, a series of reprimands. Before that: Mindoir. The source of all the ghosts haunting him now.

I think I see now why you pushed so hard to get me to the psych team after Akuze. At the time, I was confused. I mean, I love ya, Mom...but you and I...well, we have a well-established system of keeping each other at arm's length when it comes to career stuff.

But, there I was, lying in the med bay, barely awake after the first of the surgeries on my leg, the acid-burnt skin on my shoulders still pulsing with a low throb that even the heavy-duty painkillers couldn't completely extinguish...yeah, there I was, talking on a RTC with you for the first time since Akuze, and the first thing you said was that you were lining up a psych eval for me. And then, from there, the therapists. Alliance specialists in trauma. At the time, I thought it was ridiculous. I wasn't having mental breakdowns, so why did I need a psych team involved?

But I went. Because you asked. It was because of you. You, who never asked me to do anything. Used to drive me nuts as a kid. I'd ask a question and you'd almost never answer with anything except a "well, what do you think?" So I figure if this was the one time you were going to be stubborn about something, I figured I'd oblige you. So I went. And kept going.

The nightmares still came. Still come. Even to this day. But I was ready for them in a way I wouldn't have been if you hadn't pushed me to go. You pushed the one and only time it really, truly mattered. And you probably saved my life, Mom. If I hadn't been ready for the nightmares, for the flashbacks... it's not so hard to believe I wouldn't have ended up where Zabaleta is. Or worse.

I don't know what to say to help him. Udina has taken everything from me. I'm helpless on every scale: the cosmic and the personal. I can't save the galaxy from Saren. And I can't save this man from himself.

Damn Udina straight to hell. And screw this.

Maybe Anderson wants to meet because he thinks he can talk me down into "being reasonable". If so, he's kidding himself.

Liara's right. One way or another, we need to get to Saren.

I have no idea when you'll get this, Mom. I'm sure Udina has someone reading my communications now, so I don't want to risk sending it through a public network. Maybe it'll go through if we get access to the Normandy's comms again. In which case, I'll probably be long gone before you read this.

Just...stay safe out there, okay?

Love,

your daughter, Commander Camina

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