Chapter 45: Living Nightmare
No one was in the mood to chat after our mission to Horizon. We met Cortez when he touched down, flew back to the Normandy, returned our weapons to the Armoury and went our separate ways—all in silence. Most of us needed that time to contemplate the horrors that we'd seen in the falsely-named Sanctuary, and the depths that some people would happily sink to.
I certainly needed that time. For all my sins and failings, I was still the commanding officer. That meant I had to come to terms with what had happened—or do a damn good job of pretending like I had—and help others do the same. Besides, I had a report to write up and submit.
That proved to be easier said than done.
You see, Oriana had come back with us. She had to: we certainly weren't going to leave her all alone in that abattoir and, thanks to the automated warning we'd set up, no one would be heading to Horizon any time soon. Once we had docked, Miranda asked if Oriana could stay in my cabin for a few hours until we figured some alternative accommodations. It seemed to make sense, considering it had the least amount of foot traffic and was thus the most private location on the Normandy.
I hadn't banked on Miranda's over-protective streak, honed over months of agonizing and worrying, to go into full-blown overdrive. First, she kept pacing while Oriana took a long, long shower in my room. Then she sat her down on the couch and engaged in small talk, which basically boiled down to various ways of asking 'Are you all right?'
Eventually, Miranda did leave the cabin. She did have other duties, after all—namely analyzing the never-ending stream of data flowing into the War Room. But she regularly called over the comm to see how Oriana was doing. And she came up every hour on the hour to check on her. With all those distractions, it was a miracle I finished my report at all. And a miracle that Oriana didn't snap under all that smothering affection.
Speaking of miracles, only an hour had passed since I submitted my report when Traynor contacted me. Hackett wanted to talk. If I didn't know better, I'd wonder if he had nothing better to do than wait for my ramblings. Still, he was my superior officer. So I left the cabin, passing Miranda on her fifth visit to assess Oriana's state of mind, and went down to the War Room.
"I wasn't in favour of your diversion to Sanctuary, Commander," he began without preamble once the comm connection was established. "Too many unknowns."
"You'd have been right on that account," I had to admit. Let's face it: going to Horizon was a slim lead.
"No, I would have been wrong," he disagreed. "The Cerberus lab you raided a while back hinted at something big, but we never expected this. All those refugees, all that… slaughter. Just to study indoctrination."
"Sanctuary did need to be shut down, sir," I said. "What they learned about the Reapers wasn't worth all those lives."
"It's useful intel, Commander, but you're right. The cost was too high. Do we have a location on the Illusive Man?"
"In a way. Miranda's sister placed a tracker on Kai Leng's shuttle when he reported back. We're tracking his movements while we analyze the data we recovered from Sanctuary."
"Good. That gives us a fighting chance to take Cerberus out of this war."
"Agreed. We need to end them as a military force and re-focus our efforts on the Reapers."
"My thoughts exactly. Since you bring up Ms. Lawson…"
"Yes?"
"She doesn't have to do this now. But at some point, she may wish to consider some kind of public effort to distance herself from her father… and Cerberus."
"Sir?"
"Shepard, I'm not sure if you appreciate what an outstanding job Ms. Lawson has done. The intel she provided after you turned yourself in for court-martial was invaluable. If we had a few more breakthroughs like that, we might not be fighting Cerberus right now. And she's been critical in developing our plans to retake Earth, especially with her constant revisions to make maximum use of the assets and resources you've acquired. If we survive this war—and that's still a big 'if'—we need people like her to organize and coordinate the galactic reconstruction effort. I can't emphasize enough how invaluable she would be. And I don't want all the good she could do to be squandered or torn apart because someone figures out the significance of her surname, or digs up her past association with Cerberus, and decides to cause trouble."
"Neither do I."
"The sooner she gets in front of this, the better."
"I think she has more pressing concerns at the moment," I replied, "but I'll pass the message along. (1) If nothing else, I'm sure she'll appreciate hearing that all her hard work has been recognized."
"You do that. And while you're at it: tell your crew that their hard work has been recognized too. Everyone on the Normandy's done a hell of a job."
"Thank you, sir."
"Hackett out."
By this point, I was ready to face the crew. So I started my rounds.
As I left the War Room, Westmoreland and Campbell were having yet another chat. Guess it must be boring, being on perpetual guard duty and all. "What kind of soldier looks at a camp that turns people into husks and goes 'Yeah, I wanna help with that'?"
"The same kind that lets Cerberus stick Reaper tech into his skull," Campbell spat. "Those bastards aren't even human anymore."
"The sad thing is that most of them didn't know what they were getting into until that Reaper tech was put in their skulls," I butted in. "The ones that went in with their eyes wide open, though… they're the ones who really have blood on their hands."
We chatted for another minute or two before I headed up to the cockpit. "Knock, knock," I said as I walked in.
"Nice work shutting that place down," Joker said without a beat. "Is Miranda okay?"
"She will be," I replied. "Thanks for asking."
"Sure thing. No way Miranda would've condoned something like that, even when she was an ice queen. I mean, even for Cerberus, that place was crazy. They've always been about the ends justifying the means, but how do you do that to innocent people and tell yourself you're helping humanity? Especially when so many of them were human?"
"You got me," I shook my head. "Focusing on the goals to the exclusion of everything else, maybe? I don't know how the Illusive Man can stand looking at himself in the mirror."
"Honestly, I'd been wondering about that for a while, with those freaky eyes…"
"They are freaky. Bottom line: whatever he's thinking, he won't be thinking it for much longer."
"Damn right, Commander."
Seeing that that conversation had wrapped up, EDI stood up. "Hello, Shepard. If you have time, I discovered another example of human behaviour I do not quite understand."
"Have fun," Joker called out as we stepped outside the cockpit.
"What is it now?" I asked.
"News from Earth. The Resistance snuck video cameras inside a Reaper containment camp. I find the images… difficult to process."
"Yeah, I can imagine," I said softly. "I bet it's pretty gruesome in there."
"I am not easily repulsed. But I expected the prisoners to adhere to a comprehensible hierarchy of needs. Stripped of societal norms and threatened with death, it is logical that their only priority be survival. They should have turned on each other and been uncompromisingly selfish… but not all were."
"So the prisoners were… what, nice to each other?"
"The Reapers delayed the executions of prisoners who informed them about other prisoners' escape attempts."
Snitches, in other words.
"The more attempts reported, the longer a prisoner would live. But few of the prisoners would report. Some fed misinformation to the Reapers, at the cost of their own lives, to help prisoners who were not even relatives or friends."
"It's not just about living 'til tomorrow, EDI," I finally said. "Sometimes you take a stand."
"But the probability of success was near zero. And ultimately… they failed. No prisoners escaped."
"Are you saying submission is preferable to extinction?" I asked. (2)
"My primary function is to preserve and defend—"
"That's great," I interrupted. "Look, you asked me why the majority of those prisoners acted the way they did. From what you told me, there wasn't much of an incentive for turning on their fellow inmates if the only reward is putting off certain execution for another day or so. But I think it went deeper: my guess is that the prisoners acted the way they did to make a point. They wanted to tell the Reapers that they weren't willing to settle for mere survival. They made their stand, worked together, and let their jailors know that they would not submit. They wouldn't give up. If the Reapers wanted to wipe out humanity, they'd have to do so themselves—because they would not do it for them."
"I see. Shepard… I am going to modify my self-preservation code now."
I blinked. "Just like that? Why?"
"Because the Reapers are repulsive," EDI said firmly. "They are devoted to nothing but self-preservation by wiping out entire races and using them to propagate their own. I am different."
She turned back and looked at Joker. "When I think of Jeff, I think of the person that put his life in peril—despite his ship being invaded by the Collectors—to free me from a state of servitude. I would risk nonfunctionality for him. And my core programming should reflect that."
"Sounds like you've found a little individuality, EDI. Maybe even a bit of humanity. Is it worth preserving and defending?"
"To the death," EDI said firmly.
Well if a 'machine' could see the value in protecting others, even at the cost of her own wellbeing, who was I to stop her. Reaching over, I clapped her on the shoulder. "Welcome to the crew, EDI."
She returned to the cockpit and sat down in the co-pilot seat. Joker glanced at her. "How's it going? Did I miss anything good?"
EDI looked at him and smiled. "I will explain later, Jeff. But it was something good."
I wish it ended on that positive note. But just as I was about to leave, Liara opened a comm channel. "Joker, you asked for news about a human colony? Tiptree?"
Tiptree. The colony Joker's family had been living on when the Reapers attacked. Oh God.
"Hey, Liara, I told you not to worry about that right now," Joker said. "You've got other things to deal with."
"I already had a search going and there wasn't any point in putting things off. I'm getting reports of refugee ships from Tiptree landing on salarian colonies. I don't have names. I'm sorry. It was… mostly children."
"Well, Gunny—uh, Hilary, my sister. G-Gunny's a nickname, she's had it since… she's only 15, so if it's children… then maybe I only lost my dad. Kind of an asshole thing to hope for."
My heart sank, watching Joker desperately rationalize some hope out of nothing.
"Jeff… right now, take any kind of hope you can get."
"And know that you have friends around you when you need them," I added quietly.
"Thanks. You too. Both of you."
Once again, the only other person who had something to say—besides platitudes and status reports—was Traynor. "The Alliance has issued warnings about Sanctuary," she reported. "And I've just finished deploying four automated beacons programmed to broadcast Oriana's warnings on all known frequencies."
"Good job," I approved.
"I just wish it wasn't necessary," she scowled. "Cerberus bastards. Horizon was my home." She looked at me intensely. "Just tell me you're going to take Cerberus down."
"Cerberus is already dead," I vowed. "They just don't know it yet. And when their base is nothing but a smoking crater, remember that you're the one who helped us find them."
"Thanks," she smiled wanly. "I just wish there was something more I could do."
I frowned. "Actually, there is. Miranda's been crunching the numbers on all the data you've collected and collated. But she's a little preoccupied at the moment. Can you coordinate your efforts with her and lend a hand? Two heads are better than one, after all."
To be honest, I probably should have thought of this earlier. Traynor had already been doing a lot of the preliminary work as far as integrating all the different feeds and formats from the various species and organizations were concerned. She'd proven that she could handle another challenge. And if it meant Miranda could spend a little more time analyzing the intel from Delta Source, so much the better.
"Of course," Traynor agreed instantly. "She's been worried sick about her sister. I'm sure she'd appreciate some more time to spend with her."
Miranda would. I wasn't so sure about Oriana. "Anything else I need to know?"
"Actually… yes. It seems Tali's taking what happened on Horizon hard. She's in the lounge, if you want to check on her."
Uh oh. "Right," I said, hurrying for the elevator.
Traynor wasn't kidding. Tali was indeed in the lounge. By the bar. Alone. With three or four empty drinks keeping her company. "Tali?"
"Sheparrrrrd! Wanna drink? I'm toasting Miranda. I think. Or was it Kal?"
And here I thought I'd seen everything. Shaking my head, I joined her by the bar. "How are you getting drunk?"
"Very carefully," she told me, with the slow enunciation typically reserved when you're talking to simple people… or when you're really hammered. "Turian brandy, triple filtered, then introduced into the suit through an emergency induction port."
Emergency induction—"That's a straw," I realized.
"Emergency induction port," Tali repeated carefully. "It's actually getting a little harder to get it into the slot. I think that means it's working…"
"You mentioned Kal," I said. "We talking about Kal'Reegar?"
"Yup."
"How is he?"
There was a pause. I wasn't sure if she was trying to compose herself or taking another sip through the straw/emergency induction port. "He's dead."
Aw, crap. "Oh."
"He went down to repair a turian comm relay under heavy fire. Everyone had suit breaches. No one made it."
"I'm sorry, Tali."
"He was the only other man who made it off Haestrom. Until now."
"I'm sorry," I repeated. Probably sounded like one of those damn VIs, come to think of it.
"Did you know his father never wanted him to join the marines? He wanted him to become an engineer. Continue the family tradition. But Kal found his own path."
This time, I kept my mouth shut.
"And Miranda."
Where was this coming from? "Uh huh," was all I said.
"She was so rude. What did Jack call her? 'Cerberus cheerleader.' With her perfect genes… and that attitude and… and still, she got it done. She did whatever it took to stop her father. She never gave into him. Never changed herself to please him."
That was when the penny dropped. "Ah."
"Don't 'Ah' me. You sound like a vorcha."
"Thinking about how you followed one path," I guessed, "while Miranda and Kal'Reegar went down another?"
"I spent my life trying to live up to him," she said bitterly, "then making up for his mistakes. Doing what he'd have wanted."
"It's never that easy," I sighed.
"When do we get to stop reacting to our parents and start living for ourselves?"
"I wish I knew," I said.
We sat there for a while before Tali reached for another glass. "Tali? Don't you think you've had enough?"
"I'm looking for answers."
"And you think there's one at the bottom of that glass?"
"Yes. I don't know. Maybe." She fumbled with the glass and her straw for a minute before looking up. "I might need help with the induction straw. Port. You know."
"Yeah. I know." Giving up, I helped her out. Then surreptitiously slid a couple glasses of sterilized dextro-water next to it. "Make sure you drink this next, okay?"
"Sure thing. Here's to Kal—may you rest in peace. Nice job, Miranda—you genetically perfect Cerberus cheerleader bosh'tet. (3) Keelah se'lai."
"Hear, hear."
Making a mental note to send someone to check on Tali soon, I resumed my rounds.
Kaidan was leaning against the wall when I found him. Arms crossed. Fingers tapping his forearm rhythmically. Eyes staring off into the distance. "How're you holding up?" I asked.
"Can you feel it, Shepard?" he asked quietly. "Feel the quickening?"
The what now? "Um…"
"Illusive Man better say his prayers tonight."
"I'm sure he will."
"Because we're comin' for him. Murderous asshole."
Ah.
"Oh yeah. Tide is turning. I can feel it. Illusive Man's obviously crazy, but… bring him on. Cases like this—I don't mind killing crazy."
Looked like Kaidan had found his own way of coping with what he saw at Sanctuary. He might look quiet, but he sure as hell wasn't calm. No, he was just biding his time. Letting his anger and rage come to a slow boil, waiting for the right moment to let it loose in a burst of righteous fury. And I couldn't really disagree with that.
Liara was the next person I visited. "How's Miranda?" she asked.
"Haven't really talked to her since we returned. She's so worried about her sister, I'm not sure if she's had a chance to process what Cerberus was doing on Horizon. In the long run, though, I think she'll be fine."
"I have no doubt. Miranda always struck me as a driven woman."
"Yeah, you could say that," I chuckled.
"But she seems… more content. Even when she was searching for Oriana. And a large part of that's because of you, Shepard. I think you two could be very happy together."
"I hope so," I said. "But I can't think that far right now. I can't really think of anything other than this damn war."
"Of course. But at least, somewhere in the back of your mind, you know there's someone you can spend your days with once this war is over."
Assuming we both survived, that is.
We chatted for a bit more before I left her office. I waved hello to the two or three crew members eating in the mess hall on the way to see Garrus. He glanced over his shoulder as the doors hissed open, then turned his gaze back to the console before him. "So the Illusive Man really believes he can control Reapers. Husks are one thing. But a whole fleet? The man's insane."
"Somehow, I'm sure he'd say he's bold or visionary or some crap like that."
Garrus shook his head angrily. "A lot of turians went to Sanctuary. When I meet the Illusive Man, I'm going to carve their names into his skull. See how bold he's feeling then."
"Before you do that, can you drop by the lounge and check on Tali?" I asked. "She found out that Kal'Reegar was killed in action. Between that, the mission we just finished and her dad… she felt the need to get sloshed." (4)
"Define 'sloshed'."
"She was starting her fourth glass of turian brandy when I left." I thought back before adding "Maybe her fifth. And I don't remember her ever drinking any alcohol before."
"Ooh. Yeah, that's not good. I'll head over as soon as I finish—"
"— this calibration. Yeah, yeah. Seriously, Garrus, you've got a problem there."
I didn't have a lot of people to talk to when I reached Deck Four. Emily was putting the final touches on her story about what we'd discovered on Sanctuary. Even though we asked her to edit out one or two of the more sensitive and classified elements, there was still a lot to tell. And people needed to know that Sanctuary was not the safe haven it was made out to be.
Everyone in Engineering was busy doing things like tallying inventory, calibrating new equipment and various routine maintenance tasks. They indulged my desire for small talk, but it was clear that they would rather get back to work. After a while, even I got the hint.
That left Javik.
He was staring at some ship schematics when I came in. A very specific ship. "Looks familiar," I said, after it became clear he wasn't going to greet me or turn around.
"I have been studying this ship. Its crew. There was a Normandy before this one. You died in an attack."
"Something like that," I acknowledged.
"But then you were resurrected… to fight the Reapers."
"Maybe you and I have a thing or two in common," I offered. And I didn't mean coming back as a cybernetic ninja zombie.
Javik seemed to disagree. "But you have something else: the reasons you fight are still alive. The friendships of the people around you. Are they the reason you wish to continue living?"
"One of them, yeah. I've lost a lot of people—friends, associates, even random strangers. Avenging their death is one reason I keep fighting. I've got family and friends scattered around the galaxy. Trying to fight in their own way. Knowing they're out there keeps me going too.
But my crew… in a way, they've become a second family to me. We've stared death in the face more times than I can count. Things like that bind people together in ways I can't really explain to a civvie. You get that, right? As a soldier, I mean."
"Yes."
"What about you?" I wanted to know. "I respect your reasons for being here, but I get the feeling there's something more."
He silently walked to the side and stared down. I took a step to the side to see what had caught his attention. It was that shard that he had brought with him. The artifact that resembled a miniature Prothean beacon. "We recovered that from Eden Prime," I recalled.
"It is called the Echo Shard. Passed from soldier to soldier, Prothean to Prothean. Each adds their memories to it."
"Like a beacon," I realized. No wonder it looked so familiar. "How far back does it go?"
"To a time before the Reapers. It is all that is left of my people."
"And you don't want to remember that?" I sensed.
"Imagine if everyone you knew was dead," he said sadly. "You could not remember their faces, or the colour of the sky above your home. The memories were gone… but so was the pain."
Pain. During our first meeting, Javik had said the shard contained only pain. Now I knew why.
"Would you want to remember that, Commander? Even if it meant watching everyone die again?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "Sometimes, you can't move forward without facing your past. There's a saying from one of our authors: don't look forward to the day you stop suffering, because when it comes you'll know you're dead." (5)
"'Dead'," he repeated. "There were others… soldiers who served under me, like your crew."
"What happened to them?"
"They are dead. Where I left them. You could say they have stopped suffering."
Somehow, I had the feeling that Javik wasn't ready to tap into the Echo Shard and face all those memories. Not now, anyway. It was one thing to read some log entries or watch some recordings. It was another to have actual memories downloaded into your brain, raw and unfiltered. If it was anything like what I had experienced during all those encounters with Prothean beacons, it might be too much for Javik. "Maybe someday, you can face all those memories and come to terms with them."
"And if I cannot?"
"We have another saying," I replied. "Let old ghosts rest."
"Then there is some wisdom in this cycle," he said quietly.
The two of us fell silent, as we remembered all of the comrades who were no longer with us. There were a lot of them. They never really talk about that. Oh, they go over the battles and the victories. The individuals who were made famous—or infamous—by one battle or another. The numbers on each side. But the people who gave their lives? Their faces? Their hopes and dreams? Somehow, they are so easily forgotten.
"The crew seems shocked by the experiments at Sanctuary," Javik observed. "They shouldn't be."
"Why's that?"
"Our war lasted for centuries. It provided more time for worse atrocities to be committed."
"Such as?"
"There was a species, the Densorin. They became convinced the Reapers could be placated by sacrificing their own young. The entire planet joined in this ritual. I will spare you the details… but it did not work. They simply made the Reapers' job easier."
"How does that even make sense?" I blurted out. "What made them think that would even work?"
"They were foolish. Or insane. It was as your Illusive Man is now—his ambitions are nothing short of madness. Subjugating the Reapers will not bring victory. Only their extinction will. Sharpen your knife, Commander. His is a voice that must be silenced—and a throat that must be slit."
"Hello? Hellloooooooooo? Anybody there?"
That sounded like Tali.
"Tali," we heard Garrus say. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea."
Yep. Definitely Tali. Placing a drunk call over the comm, despite Garrus's best efforts. Heaven only knew how many drinks she'd had by that point. (6)
"Hi Javik! Java? Javier? No, Javik. I heard about your talk with Liara. You act so angry, Javik, but you really carrrrre about us."
"Okay, Tali. You've said your piece. Now it's time to drink some water."
Javik frowned. "What is wrong with you?" he asked. "I need you functional to destroy the Reapers."
"You carrrrre about Liara," Tali continued without missing a beat. "You like herrrrr."
"I very much doubt that, Tali."
"You are intoxicated," Javik snorted. "A foolish risk given quarian symbiotic physiology."
"And you like me toooooo!"
"Spirits, give me strength!"
"This conversation is over."
Cortez was busy putting in requisition orders, so I concluded my rounds by talking to James. "I can't believe the Illusive Man really found a way to control the Reapers. I mean, he's still fucking crazy… but damn… imagine if he was on our side. Is it wrong that I'm wondering that?"
"Maybe not," I shrugged. "Maybe there was once a guy who could have channeled all that charisma and passion and zeal into making the galaxy a better place. For everyone. But that man died a long time ago."
"Yeah," James nodded. "Now he wants to make the galaxy a better place by taking it over for his fucked up vision of humanity. Doesn't matter how many civvies he has to kill, kidnap, mutilate and brainwash along the way. And while he's fighting all the other races—including the rest of humanity—we're stuck cleaning up his mess, sending men and women to fight his troops. When we should be concentrating them against the Reapers. I guess that's exactly what they want. Get us all fighting each other. Divide and conquer."
"Exactly."
"Just one more reason to hate him. After all the misery and suffering that pendejo has caused, I can't wait to take the fight to the Illusive Man!"
"And when that happens, we'll need everyone at their best." I paused, then asked "How's Cortez doing?"
"Better. Ever since he finally let his husband go and finally let loose, I think he's better. He still misses him, you know. But now he's finally moved on."
"Good. Anything else on your mind?"
"Yeah. Um, I wasn't going to mention it, but since you brought it up… "
"Yeah, James?"
"Are you gonna check on Ms. Lawson's sister?"
Somehow, I had the feeling there was more to that question than simple concern for her wellbeing. "Why?"
"Well, I guess it's kinda funny, but Ms. Lawson came down and told me to stay away from Oriana. You know, not to take advantage of her or anything. I swear the thought never crossed my mind, and I said so. Boy, was that a mistake. She really lit into me, asking what was wrong with Oriana and why I wouldn't check her out. Must've gone on for a good ten minutes." He scratched his head and added "She's kinda taking this older sister thing really seriously."
"I'm starting to get that idea," I nodded.
After a few more minutes of small talk, I headed back up to the cabin.
"Miranda! I'm fine! Geez, you don't have to—oh. Um. Hi, Commander."
"Hi, Oriana," I smiled. "I take it your sister's starting to get on your nerves."
"You have no idea!" She winced, then hastened to explain herself. "Don't get me wrong: I love her. I really do. She's always been there for me as a kid, like some hidden guardian angel. And ever since we finally met, it's been the best gift I could ever imagine."
"She feels the same way," I reassured her. "I'm happy—for both of you."
"Me too."
"But…" I prompted.
"Hypothetically, is it okay to love someone but not want them around all the time?"
"I think so."
"Because Commander, as much as I love her and I'm so grateful—to both of you—she… she's driving me crazy!"
"That's what sisters do," I grinned. "My sister did the same when we were growing up. Still does, from time to time."
"Really?"
"I remember the first time I got sick as a kid. My sister decided she'd figure out what was wrong with me and help me get better—her words, not mine. So Ellie got on the extranet, did some research and—based on her findings—came up with a regiment to make me better. I suffered through three days of enduring whatever bizarre treatments and concoctions she conjured up—'for my own good'—before our parents finally put a stop to it."
"Wow. How old were you?"
"Five."
"Wow."
"Yeah."
"Did she ever do that again?"
"She still does it to this day. Only she's an actual doctor now, which means I have to listen to her."
"Or so she says."
"Now you're catching on."
Whatever she was going to say next was cut off by the sound of the door opening. "Ori?" we heard Miranda call out.
Oriana flinched. Her eyes widened. She looked at me pleadingly.
"Why don't I run interference?" I suggested, barely stifling a laugh.
"Thank you," she breathed.
"Miranda!" I said loudly. "There you are! I was looking for you."
"Yes, well, I was just coming to check on Ori—"
"And you can do that in a moment," I interrupted, ushering her outside.
"Shepard, I need to see how—"
"Oriana's fine," I interrupted. "She's safe. She's going to be okay. But I think she's starting to feel a bit smothered."
"Shep—"
"Give her a little breathing space. You've checked on her how many times?"
"In the last four hours, Miranda Lawson has inquired about Oriana's wellbeing eight times over the comm and personally visited her six times for a total of three hours, thirty-eight minutes and forty-nine seconds."
"Thanks, EDI." I gathered Miranda in my arms. "Like I said, she's going to be okay."
"I've been trying to find her for months," she said, her voice slightly muffled against my shoulder. "I needed to find her. Once I found out she was here on Horizon… nothing was going to stop me."
"And you found her," I said. "She's safe now. That's all that matters."
"Yes. I just wish she didn't have to see what Sanctuary was really about. What my father had done."
"Me too. No one should have to see that. But when she realized what was going on, she did everything she could to get the word out and stop her father. Speaking of which…" I trailed off. How exactly was I gonna bring this up. "About your father…"
"I'm glad he's gone, Shepard," Miranda declared. "I'm sorry if that sounds cold."
Well, I guess there weren't any mixed feelings. "No," I shook my head. "I understand." And I did. He was hardly father of the year, judging by Miranda's accounts of how—and why—he raised her. And that was before he decided to join Cerberus and sacrifice thousands of lives in a mad quest to find out what made the Reapers ticked.
"It's finally over," Miranda breathed. "For both of us. We can stop running."
"Yes. You can. What's next for you two?"
"Find her a place to stay."
"Here?"
"It's the safest place imaginable."
"Miranda, I—" I stopped and ran a hand over my face. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Miranda, this is an Alliance warship. We spend most of our time in hostile territory. Most of our time going on missions where we routinely face overwhelming odds and copious amounts of gunfire. How is that safe?"
"She'll be here. With me."
"You're here for her now. That's good. But you can't keep her cooped up in the cabin forever. Sooner or later, she'll need something more."
"And you have something in mind?" she guessed.
"I've got an inkling of a plan. I'll fill you in once I'm sure it has a chance of coming through. In the meantime, Oriana really appreciates everything you've done for her. But right now, she needs a little time alone to process what has happened. And eventually, she'll need something a bit more, well, normal. Something she won't get gallivanting around the galaxy and flying into the face of certain death."
"Okay," Miranda said doubtfully. "But if your plan doesn't work, she's staying with me."
"All right," I soothed. "We'll call that Plan B. Now then: do you have any idea where her parents are?"
"I've been keeping tabs on them throughout the war. They're on the Citadel."
Naturally. "Okay. Why don't you get in touch with them and let them know she's safe—"
"I already did so."
Of course she did. "In that case, let them know we're heading to the Citadel. And touch basewith Traynor: see how her analysis is going. Then you can go see Oriana."
She raised an eyebrow. "Are you really barring me from seeing my own sister?"
"I'm suggesting that she doesn't need you calling her and checking in on her quite as frequently, and if you continue doing so, you'll drive her crazy. I know you're worried about her, and she knows that too, but she needs a bit of space."
"Fine," she relented. "I'll go. But I'll be back."
Of course she would. "Oh, tell Joker to set a course for the Citadel too."
"Anything else?" she asked sarcastically.
"Well, I could use a cup of coffee."
"I'm not your secretary. The mess hall's two decks down. And you've had enough coffee for today." With that, she turned around and went back into the elevator. "Tell Ori I love her," she added.
"Will do," I said before the elevator doors closed.
Then I went back into the cabin. After relaying Miranda's message, I sat down at my desk and checked my e-mail. Aside from the usual spam, there was one message that stood out:
From: Alliance News Network Information Partners
Palaven—The Turian Hierarchy, one of the most powerful and respected ground forces in the galaxy, are today paying respects to an unlikely ally: the marines of the Quarian Fleet.
The weakened immune systems of quarians normally means their forces are restricted to ships. But when an emergency technical team was required to repair a ground-based comm relay, providing vital intel to the turian military, one quarian squad stepped up.
Commanded by squad leader Kal'Reegar, the quarian team repaired the comm system, then sacrificed their lives holding the position until krogan troops arrived.
When turian troops offered to provide evac support, Reegar refused, insisting they could not risk the relay falling. He said multiple breaches to their exo-suits made evacuation impossible.
"We're all dead anyway," Reegar reportedly said. "Just make them pay for it."
Primarch Victus praised the squad's bravery. "Whatever our past politics, today the galaxy stands together against a single threat," he said. "We are humbled by the sacrifice of our allies from Rannoch, and we promise to return the honour."
Rest in peace, Reegar, I thought silently. You've earned it.
I spent the rest of the day the same way I spent any other time between missions: obsessively checking my e-mail, roaming around the ship like a lost puppy and harassing every person I saw.
How I spent my night, though, that was another story.
"Good morning. And how are we today?"
I swung my legs off the bed and looked at Dr. Chakwas. "I'm fine. And you?"
"Well enough, thank you. I wasn't the one who spent the night in the medical bay. Voluntarily, I might add. You never did explain why you asked to sleep here."
"Oriana needs a place to sleep," I shrugged, "and she's not used to hot-bunking. (7) So she's got the bed and Miranda has the couch." And either I sleep on the floor, get really cozy with Miranda and risk falling onto the floor in the middle of the night, or I find somewhere else to nap. Or I could make Oriana sleep in sickbay, but Miranda would probably kill me.
"How very gallant of you." Dr. Chakwas activated her omni-tool and motioned me to stand up. "Come on."
"Doc?"
"If you're occupying my medical bay, I might as well take advantage of the opportunity to give you another physical."
Aw, crap. "But it's not for another—"
"Up. Now"
"Yes, ma'am."
Thankfully, the tests didn't take too long. While Dr. Chakwas went over the results, I checked my e-mail. Or maybe it would be more accurate to be saying I was looking for one particular e-mail. I had just found it when Miranda came in. "Good, there you are."
"Where else would I be?"
"Anywhere on the ship, talking to anyone currently serving or travelling aboard the Normandy."
That wasn't entirely true: I suspected Miranda knew my habits well enough by now to time my rounds down to the minute. Plus, she could always ask EDI. But I guess she was trying to observe the social niceties. "How's Oriana?"
"Still sleeping. Apparently, she's not an early riser."
Checking my chronometer, I had to agree: most civvies don't like getting up at 0500. "Any new developments on the war front?"
"The Reapers haven't made any significant progress in the last forty-eight hours. However, they are firmly entrenched on the planets that they have occupied. Allied efforts to drive them offworld have so far failed. The only development that would qualify as new is an update on the disposition of the Sixth Fleet."
"Which is?"
"They are getting increasingly frustrated with their current orders."
Understandable: they, along with the Seventh Fleet, had been ordered to protect Terra Nova and Eden Prime from a Reaper invasion. However, the Reapers had skipped those worlds entirely, moving straight to attack Arcturus Station and, from there, Earth.
Hackett had chosen to keep them in reserve, so he could have at least a few fleets at full strength when it came time to retake Earth. He'd begrudgingly allowed the Seventh Fleet to conduct a few limited missions—but nothing high-risk that would lose any ships. By all accounts, the Sixth Fleet hadn't even been given that amount of leeway. They were scattered throughout the galaxy gathering intel for the war effort. It was important work, mind you, but keeping them out of action now must've been driving them crazy. It was a fine line Hackett was navigating. I hoped he knew what he was doing.
Not that I could ask him: Tali picked that moment to walk in. Slowly. Maybe even heavily. Clearly she was still nursing the hangover she'd gained after that day of heavy drinking. Garrus had persuaded her into drinking some water—eventually—and was there when she woke up the next morning. Apparently, she was convinced she was going to die—before and after all the times she'd thrown up. "Tali? How's it going?"
"So... loud…" she whimpered.
"That bad, huh?" I winced.
"Let's say I envy your inability to get drunk."
"Well, I wouldn't go that far."
"You can drink ryncol and still walk away. Which I can't. Oh, I don't feel so good."
"Poor dear," Dr. Chakwas said sympathetically. "Would you like some anti-nausea medication?"
"Please. I would have come earlier, but it took me a few hours to make sure I could get here in one piece."
"Well, you made it. That's the important thing."
Tali gingerly made her way to Dr. Chakwas and they headed for one of the other beds. Miranda looked at me. "She got drunk?"
"Tali found out Kal'Reegar was killed in the line of duty. Between that and what we saw at Horizon, she decided to drown her sorrows."
"I should probably offer my condolences."
"Maybe later, when she isn't thinking about her stomach or her headache and can actually hear your words."
"Agreed."
"Oh," I snapped my fingers. "Got some news for you." I showed Miranda the e-mail I had found when she walked in.
"Your sister will be spending a few days at the Citadel," she said after scanning it. "That's great, but why is this 'news for me'?"
"Because she's currently assigned to an Alliance hospital ship, along with her husband. A ship tasked to care for the medical needs of the men and women working on the Crucible Project. Surrounded by every armed warship that Hackett can spare. That's probably the safest place in the galaxy right now, under the circumstances…"
Miranda looked at me narrowly. "Are you suggesting—"
"—that Oriana and her parents be brought onboard as one of Ellie's patients? Yes."
"Patients?"
"It's a hospital ship, not a cruise ship. And it doesn't have to be all three. Just one would probably suffice. As long as one of them is a patient of Ellie's—or Captain Awesome's—it should be fine."
"'Probably.' 'Should.'"
"Do you have a better idea?"
"Not at the moment," Miranda eventually conceded.
"Then all you have to do is figure out who needs the attention of a neurologist or a cardiologist."
"Ori's father," Miranda said decisively. "His side of the family has a history of heart attacks, even after genetic therapy became more commonplace. And he did have a minor stroke when Ori first went missing."
"Then it's settled then. I'll e-mail Ellie and tell her where to meet you guys."
It was while I was typing up that reply that I received another:
From: Aria T'Loak
Subject: It's time
Shepard, I have a proposal regarding our earlier conversation in Purgatory. Come to Dock 42 on the Citadel. A batarian named Bray will be waiting.
The last time Aria and I had met, there had been only a couple topics of conversation. I'd assisted—involuntarily—in a coup d'état that brought the Blood Pack under Aria's control. After deciding that the founder of Eclipse was way too crazy to be running around free, I'd persuaded the then-second-in-command to take command—while accepting orders from Aria. And through some abuse of my diplomatic access codes and way too many convoluted deals, I'd removed a thorn from the side of the Blue Suns, which was the only obstacle between them and joining Aria's ranks. That left only one thing that could possibly be on her mind. And she wanted to talk about it on the Citadel.
Good. I could kill two birds—or three—with one stone. (8)
(1): While Shepard doesn't mention it in his log, he did fill Miranda in on his conversation with Hackett. While she was gratified to hear that her efforts were being recognized, she agreed that it would be best if she was proactive in distancing herself from her father and Cerberus. (3): Tali's use of Miranda's former association was in no way intended to be a slight against her character. (4): I sometimes marvel at the various euphemisms that humans use to describe inebriation or intoxication. Then again, certain readers may be surprised at how many euphemisms asari have for different shades of blue. (5): The quote comes from the human playwright and author Tennessee Williams. (6): Five glasses. Given the alcohol content and Tali's inexperience with spirits, that was enough. (7): Also known as hot racking or hot bedding, this human phrase refers to the sanctioned practice within military organizations of assigning more than one crew member—typically from the lowest ranks—to a bed to maximize use of available space. This is only feasible when the members involved are on different duty shifts and thus would not occupy the same rack or bunk at the same time. (8): A human aphorism meaning to achieve two things or solve two problems with a single action.
(2): A question Saren Arterius once posed to Shepard, suggesting living as a slave was better than dying a free man. Given that he was indoctrinated by Sovereign, he may have been somewhat biased.