"Fallen Alien" by FKA twigs
III. Assets and Liabilities
(Liara)
After our debriefing, Commander Shepard had dismissed us from the comm room while she made her call to the Council. The rest of the squad had been kind enough to give me a tour of the Normandy, where I learned about the ship's history and design, along with where each of my new teammates preferred to work and rest. I also met the ship's pilot, Joker, who had no shortage of comments and jokes to make about Kaidan's curious reactions to my voice over our radio communications.
I wasn't entirely sure I understood all of their ribbing and mockery, yet I knew better than to ask questions and possibly ruin the mood.
As much as I enjoyed having so many new colleagues, I was all too aware of my own shortcomings. Social situations were not my strong suit, although none of the crew seemed to mind how quiet I was. They included me in their conversations whenever it was appropriate, never appearing to expect me to assimilate with their loud-mouthed joking and teasing.
No one expected me to be someone I was not, which was…nice.
Perhaps it wouldn't have been so terrible of me to try making friends with them after all.
Speaking one-on-one with Dr. Chakwas in the med bay was a much calmer affair, and one that I preferred. She had already done her own research on my studies, taking the time to engage with me about my various dissertations on the Protheans during my academia years.
"I must say, Dr. T'Soni, your comparison of Prothean technology to asari circuit logic was particularly engaging. It will be a while yet before your next mission. Why don't you tell me more about your expedition to Therum? It must have been a nasty surprise to discover so many geth in your way!"
We then spent a fair amount of time sharing stories about our personal experiences in school, human versus asari. I learned that humans, at least in academics, were not as monolithic as the stereotypes suggested.
Dr. Chakwas took the time to explain the differences between Western and Eastern academic cultures. I learned that Earth's western hemisphere, where she and Commander Shepard were from, emphasized individuality and personal excellence above all. The more communal nature of the East had been largely lost in translation across galactic space, much to my surprise, as this sounded nothing like the usual humans' portrayal of ruthless bullies who cared only for themselves.
"There's a lot of nuance that gets lost across space," noted Dr. Chakwas. "Even Commander Shepard, a born-and-bred American, doesn't embody all of those stereotypes you usually hear about us humans. I believe, ever since becoming the captain of the ship, she's taken steps to be ruthless for her own personal reasons while still taking a communal approach with the rest of us on the crew."
I had seen the beginnings for myself: Shepard's decision not to scold the squad on the Mako.
I was perhaps too curious for my own good: "Was the commander not always like this?"
Dr. Chakwas chuckled. "She kept to herself back when Captain Anderson was in charge," she explained. "And I mean, she really kept to herself! Usually stayed in her room playing video games in between missions. She only ever left to get something to eat, and then she retreated back to her games. As you and I have sat here speaking, I've gotten emails from other crew members about how Shepard actually said hello to them. Nothing terribly involved, mind you, but she's making a difference…"
"What do you think caused this change in her? Aside from becoming captain, that is."
"Hmm, it may have something to do with her new Spectre status. The first human Spectre! Did you get a chance to watch the vid? It is such a momentous achievement for her."
Given that I had been deep within the mines at the time of her induction, I had missed the live event.
Dr. Chakwas was all too happy to show me the vid on her terminal.
Shepard had indeed become the first human Spectre—a remarkable accomplishment for her species.
The sense of gravity and responsibility were both plain on her person as she accepted the role. So unlike her usual reticence and scowling—here, Shepard had welcomed the spirit of her assignment with honor and dignity, and she seemed to carry this with her in her new willingness to actually speak to the crew.
Ever so proud of Commander Shepard's achievement, Dr. Chakwas dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. "Oh, she's come so far in life," she praised. "Shepard had such a rough upbringing. No parents, a life of uncertainty with other abandoned youth. All that she's accomplished, she did it on her own. It wasn't that long ago that many people chastised her for joining the military in the first place."
Hurting for Shepard, I asked, "Why would they do such a thing?"
"Hmm, I believe her critics often said something to the effect of, she's too pretty to be a marine. It's safe to say that she proved them wrong very quickly. The extra training she paid for before enlisting: that's what truly helped give her the edge she needed. Most can't afford anything else before boot camp."
"If she had a rough upbringing, as you say, then how did she come across these extra funds…?"
"The commander would never tell you herself…" Dr. Chakwas glanced around, making sure that we were alone, before searching her terminal for more vids. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to show you."
We then spent the better part of a few hours together, watching Commander Shepard's alter ego as Sol, her first name and her stage name: the glamour, the lights, and the drama of her runway shows as a fashion model. Stunning gowns, skirts and corsets and heels, avant-garde experimentalism, numerous androgynous styles, and even plenty of men's wear—this version of the commander commanded each stage with her signature walk, described by many fashion magazines as: 'Fierce, proud, and fearless.'
She had apparently been discovered by an agent when she was thirteen years old, and everything had taken off from there—after a great deal of reluctance on her end, however. Whenever she had been asked for details in interviews over the years, the commander would only divulge that she'd had no choice but to take the job. Her existing home and way of life had been threatened, and she'd had no other way out. It was possible she may have eventually died on the streets otherwise.
So she had taken on the work to support herself.
She continued with this same career from time to time when she was not deployed, only for the money.
She stomped without stomping, swayed her hips without swaying, and stared straight ahead with the full sharpness of her stunning eyes. Such a blended anger showed in her face as she moved and strutted and posed in looseness and in effortlessness. As she grew older, she allowed her natural sex appeal to exude and to seduce, her tall height embellishing the fine shape of her hips, her thighs, her chest…
The makeup artists she worked with knew to draw out the sun-like color palette in her skin, leaving her sunlit eyes beaming, like the heated rays of the brightest star at the center of the humans' Sol System.
So far-removed from her military life…
Perhaps just as far-removed as I was—from the med bay, from the Normandy itself—too caught up in my fantasizing. Transfixed as I was, the hypnotism of Shepard's hard-edged, confident alter ego had reached at something in me. It took Dr. Chakwas a few tries to pull me out of my daydreaming.
Once she finally did, the doctor gave me such a specific smile, before offering to let me sleep in the quiet, cozy storage room right behind the med bay.
I spent the whole night awake, purchasing and reading and staring at every single digital magazine I could find with Shepard's alter ego. I felt myself growing impatient whenever I would discover a magazine cover with Sol looking particularly enticing, only to learn that the issue was print-only.
By the time I found my way to a message board full of anonymous strangers lusting after her photographs, I quickly shut off my terminal.
"Goddess, what am I doing…? She is not an object to be consumed! I should stop this…"
Collecting myself, I turned my terminal back on.
I then went off on a related tangent in my next search results.
Although, all I managed to do was type the word 'subspace' into the search bar.
I couldn't bring myself to actually hit the search button.
Such dread, such wracking fear gripped me, chilling me to my core. Already, my hours-long consuming of Shepard's glamorous lifestyle had stirred something in me I didn't yet understand. Adding this new, entirely foreign confusion into the equation made me shudder in my seat at my desk.
There was no one I could ask about this.
If I wished to know more about it—for the Protheans, for myself—I needed to do my own research.
What kind of Prothean researcher would I be if I allowed this discovery to go to waste?
Then again, I knew better. This was not about the Protheans. Not really. This was about myself, my reservations, my innocence and my inexperience. I was one hundred and six years old, and yet throughout my entire life, not once had I felt all that compelled to have a relationship with anyone. Aside from a handful of idle wonderings over the years, I had never wished to pursue something with someone, serious or otherwise.
For the longest, I used to think that I wasn't quite all there, sexually…
For the longest, until I discovered these Prothean writings, awakening the truth in me: that perhaps I wasn't suited to normal relationships, and so I had avoided them. I had avoided even platonic friendships, understanding that my so-called friends would inevitably ask me about why I chose to remain single; sensing this inevitability, I could not live with that dread, choosing instead to isolate myself with my work.
For the longest, I had never felt stirred or inspired to indulge in those types of normal activities with another person. I had never wanted to figure out my reluctance, my pressure points, for this would have surely involved a great deal of introspection and discomfort and mental pain and tears.
For the longest, until I met Shepard…
I wasn't sure which was which. Was it Shepard and Shepard alone? Was it this unknown beyond what was normal? Was it both? How could I know? Did Shepard prefer normal relationships? Or did she prefer this deviancy, too?
This was all so taboo in my culture, and so I had avoided it—ignored it—until tonight.
But, I knew so little about Shepard herself: the woman behind that commanding presence of hers.
And I knew myself: that I would be far too shy to engage her in any real conversation to learn more.
If she did choose to come speak with me, I understood that she would not divulge much about herself.
I spent the rest of the night doing as much digging as I could into Shepard's background: her sparse relationships, and records about her undergraduate university degree that she had earned while she was still an enlisted soldier. I also searched for answers to Ashley and Kaidan's reluctance to speak about Shepard's race and origins, since it was not their place. I quickly learned that it was not mine, either, though I needed to understand how and why her skin was such a contentious part of human history.
The next day, I awoke at such a late hour, having fallen asleep at my desk. My terminal remained open, my extranet browser filled with several tabs about American history: the transatlantic slave trade, the Emancipation Proclamation, Reconstruction, the Civil War, Black Wall Street, Jim Crow laws, the Black Panther Party, the Civil Rights Movement, and several other relevant groups, events, and atrocities…
I had saved numerous films to my streaming playlist, of the mind to watch them later, as they would have no doubt provided me with more insight on what I had learned.
Even then, I struggled to find anything concrete on Commander Shepard's reality as a mixed-race woman. I did stumble on some primary sources describing this experience as one of "privilege and ease," as if someone like the commander led an easier life compared to others with darker skin.
I had no idea if this was true.
Perception seemed to be everything, making many of these beliefs and opinions true by default.
These lessons had thoroughly expanded my perspective. Unfortunately, I had nothing to compare this to, at least not on this scale, dating back centuries in human history.
We asari of course had varying skin tones of blue and violet, but this was something that we had merely accepted about our people…
Or perhaps I was ignorant about that, too, and the truth was far different.
Nevertheless, I had to blow my nose from how much crying I had done the night prior. Reading about such cruelty among humans had affected me, deeply—especially after finding out that those same engrained prejudices still continued to drive at least some social divisions between humans to this day. I wiped at my eyes for quite a while, hoping that they were not too red from my emotional evening.
Needing to set these lessons aside for the time being, I checked my email.
Pertaining to the Normandy, the rest of the squad had apparently created a group chat, Team Renegade Shepard, and they had invited me to join via my omni-tool. Sniffling a bit, I smiled over the invite, making a mental note to join the group later, after I had cleaned myself up from my long night.
Some hours before the invite came in, I had received a few troubling emails:
From: Vakarian, Garrus – Weird XO email…
Tali, Liara,
Hey, did you ladies by chance get a really weird "welcoming" email from Navigator Pressly? I suppose he was trying to welcome us to the crew. Just came off strange.
I asked Wrex in person. He has no idea what I'm talking about. Could be that Pressly's scared of him.
Did you get the same message, too? Or is it only me?
Hope it wasn't just me. Sort of. Maybe.
-Garrus
.
From: Tali'Zorah – Re: Weird XO email…
Garrus, Liara,
Yes, I did! I'm so freaking mad about it!
He dresses up his words in that fancy-sounding speech to make it sound like he isn't being a total jerk!
I want to go up to him and ask what this was all about. But when I start thinking about it, I can't actually do it. I wouldn't want to embarrass Shepard, you know? Then, I start thinking about it more, and that's probably why Pressly sent these to us! Because he knew we wouldn't say anything to his face!
By the way, I did my research on that thing Kaidan and Ashley were being weird about back on the Mako. This is kind of the same… I mean, it's related. It hurts being on the receiving end of something like this—again—and this time it's not some C-Sec bosh'tet. It's the ship's executive officer, the one who's second-in-command around here.
He was so subtle about it, too. Enough to cover for himself. That really complicates things.
Liara, whenever you wake up, please come find Garrus and me on the lower level. We should discuss this.
-Tali
.
From: Pressly, Navigator – Normandy Onboarding
Dr. T'Soni,
Navigator Charles Pressly here, Executive Officer to Lieutenant-Commander Sol Shepard. In case you are unfamiliar with Alliance staffing assignments and protocols, I am in charge of handling day-to-day tasks aboard the ship. You may think of me as the administrative assistant to the captain and to the crew.
Welcome to the Normandy, and to Commander Shepard's diverse squad of specialists and combatants.
As I understand it, your extensive knowledge of the Protheans should serve us well during this operation. This is to be expected, as we humans have little-to-no knowledge of the Protheans, outside of our handful of discoveries in places like our official Archives on the planet Mars. I would think that the asari ought to have broader experiences with such an old species, given your longer life spans.
Our Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Karin Chakwas, tells me your intelligence and scientific capabilities are unmatched. After doing my own research on you, I have to agree. If you were a human, I believe you would make an excellent candidate for our open Science Officer position. It's a shame you're ineligible.
Since you are an asari, we thankfully have no need to go out of our way to find extra food for you. Should you require any other supplies—clothing, medication, or any other asari-specific products I may be unfamiliar with—do inform me. I can put in a requisitions order for supplies as needed.
If you should need any emergency items, such as your element zero feminine products, it would be best that you notify Commander Shepard instead. She will be more likely to gauge the seriousness of your emergency, maintain discretion, and plot a course to the Citadel or the nearest asari colony as required.
Please do not hesitate to let me know if you have any questions or concerns.
Cordially,
-Pressly
About an hour later, and after spending almost all of that time crying in the women's shower stall, I made my way down the elevator to the Normandy's storage area. Realizing that there were things I needed to have delivered to the ship from my apartment on Thessia—my other clothes, research materials, and a few personal items—I felt as if I would never have those things again, not for as long as I was on this mission.
Not for as long as Navigator Pressly was Shepard's executive officer.
I missed my comforter the most. The standard blanket I had over this bed wasn't the same.
As soon as I exited the elevator, I found Garrus and Tali near the Mako together, waiting for me.
"Hey, you," greeted Tali, sounding sad. "We were just about to check up on you in your room. I take it you also got one of those special emails?"
"Yes…"
Garrus gestured for the three of us to sit down, far enough away from Ashley and Wrex sharing a conversation on the opposite end of the vehicle bay, over near the weapons lockers.
None of us quite knew what to say at first.
Especially not with our other comrades joking around across the way, so oblivious.
"Liara," said Garrus. "Sent you that invite to the group chat. Did you not want to join up…?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," I expressed, accessing the invite with my omni-tool. "It must have slipped my mind… Did the others join as well?"
Garrus listed the names: "It's you, me, Tali, Wrex, Ashley, and Kaidan. No one else. We're holding a vote on whether we should invite Joker or not. So far, we're leaning toward a solid no, since he probably wouldn't be able to keep the place a secret. Be sure to vote in the poll when you can."
"You mean, not even the commander is allowed in?"
"Why would we let Shepard join?!" sputtered Tali. "In the logs, Wrex has been telling corny old jokes about Clan Urdnot, all Kaidan mentions are his migraines and how he's not up for talking, and Ashley has been complaining about her period and her insane cramps!"
"Yeah, Shepard wouldn't go for that," explained Garrus.
"We're supposed to use it as a place away from her, you know, to help us feel closer. If we need to reference it while she's around, say TRS. Team Renegade Shepard. She won't know."
I supposed that was fair, despite the secrecy. "I see…"
"But, ironically enough," admitted Tali, "We haven't brought up these emails in the chat. I wanted to send you a private message. You hadn't joined up yet."
"I've been a bit distracted today."
Garrus nodded in acceptance. "No harm done, Liara," he consoled. "Tali and I just didn't want to bring it up to the others. You know, in case Kaidan and Ashley clammed up again. The last thing we want is to make things awkward for them. I'm sure they have a lot of respect for our XO."
I chanced asking the obvious question, "Do you think that the commander might be able to help?"
Tali spoke her mind: "Maybe… His wording is barely subtle enough to mask what's going on. Of course, he wasn't stupid enough to be overt in his meaning. If someone took our side, they could see what he's trying to do. I honestly have no idea if Shepard would even care about us like this…"
"Care about you like what?"
The three of us whipped around, finding Commander Shepard standing over us in the casual blue of her Alliance fatigues, looking down at our depressing little group with some suspicion.
On top of the shock of her appearing her so suddenly, I couldn't breathe, seeing the commander with her hair down—in person, and not through a vid or a photograph. As one full wave of straight length, Shepard had her hair parted at one, high side of her head—not quite in the center, and not too far off to one edge. That fullness of golden brown wrapped around her face, down past her shoulders, nearest the bend of her arm where her hair began to curve around and span out in lushness.
Behind her, I already knew that her hair nearly reached the small of her back.
Behind her, farther, I spotted Ashley gaping at the commander.
Wrex was halfway to the elevator, calling for the chief to hurry up.
Ashley soon caught herself, leaving with him and looking rather flushed.
"Shepard!" squeaked Tali. "What are you doing here?! W-We didn't hear you come down the elevator!"
Shepard spared no directness—"This is my ship, Tali. I go where I want, when I want. It isn't my fault you didn't hear the elevator. Fair warning: you won't ever hear my footsteps when I walk somewhere. It's highly likely that I'll scare you again like this in the future."
"Your training, right," said Garrus. "I guess we should enjoy the surprises from you, huh, Commander?"
"If it makes things easier, sure," humored Shepard, kneeling down next to me to join us. "Now what's this about me caring? The three of you don't look like you're in the best mood. Is everything all right?"
Tali and Garrus exchanged looks with me.
The commander gave us a long moment to have our wordless exchange. She showed patience where we had expected her to show annoyance and intolerance. This was her ship, after all. She had the right to know everything that went on here. Still, she continued to kneel here at my side, not rushing us at all.
Garrus nodded to me.
Tali elbowed my arm.
Despite our pretend-telepathy from mere seconds before, I couldn't know how they'd decided that I was the best candidate to broach the subject.
"Well, Commander," I started, "This morning, Tali, Garrus and I—we received emails from someone aboard the ship. These emails made us feel…" This patience in her eyes, again, as she regarded me: I couldn't tell if it was natural for her, or forced, or convenient. Whatever her motivations, the way she listened to my words helped make this easier. "We felt uncomfortable when we read them."
"Uncomfortable?" asked Shepard, blameless. "What do you mean? Who sent these emails?" As Tali and Garrus shared more glances with me, cautious, we watched as the commander pieced things together in her head. "Were these the welcome emails XO Pressly sent out? Normandy onboarding?" We each nodded; somehow, she knew enough to grow incensed, the flares raging through her stare—not at all directed at us. "What did he say?" More hesitation on our end; more rage from her end. "You're not in trouble. Forward me the emails he sent you. I need to see these for myself."
Joker's announcement sounded over the comm system: "Hey folks, pulling the ship into the nearest fuel station in fifteen minutes. If you need to stock up on some goodies, now's the time! I hear the convenience store's having a sale, so unless you're dead broke, you, uh, you really have no excuse."
Garrus checked his email contacts with his omni-tool. "Um… Not to delay things, Commander, but I can't remember how to find that directory with your email address. Did I even have it in the first place?"
"Pressly was supposed to send it to us directly," noted Tali, also finding nothing in her inbox.
I came up empty-handed as well. "He must have forgotten to send it to us."
"That son of a—!" Shepard all but punched at her keyboard over her own omni-tool.
From: Shepard, Commander – (no subject)
Forward me those emails.
Now.
Again, you're not in trouble.
-Shepard
I forwarded mine to her without delay.
Tali and Garrus did the same.
Shepard remained quiet and still beside me as she read Navigator Pressly's words.
She didn't rush.
She didn't speed through what he wrote.
The commander took in every word, analyzing the nuance there, the subtlety, the intentions.
Something told me our XO had a history with this type of behavior.
By the time she finished reading each of Pressly's correspondences to us, Shepard looked to me. She found my eyes red: red from my late night with the blare of my terminal's brightness drying my eyes. Red from my own childish ignorance coating the moisture back over my sight. Red from my adult disbelief pouring back down over everything again, as I struggled not to do, right now, right in front of her, sniffling a little, as her own eyes widened at the sight of my reactions.
Shepard sprang back to her feet, storming over to the elevator.
Garrus, Tali and I struggled to keep up with her.
"Commander, hold on!" shouted Garrus, keeping the elevator door open for all of us. "Look, Shepard, I get that you're angry—"
"—this is unacceptable," seethed Shepard, as we all fit into the elevator together.
"But, Shepard—" Tali struggled to find her words as we ascended to the crew deck. "Can't we just—blind copy you on our responses, s-so you could build a trail against him? Do you have to confront him out in the open like this?!"
"Tali, I get that you're nervous. You don't know how I do things around here. Not yet. You're about to learn. I suggest you sit back and let me handle this."
As much as I longed to hold her, to soothe her—anything—I held myself back.
"Shepard," I spoke instead, "Won't the others know that we told you? They might mistrust us."
"Liara, I won't implicate any of you," promised Shepard. "No one has to know. Let me take care of this."
"As you wish, Commander…"
Right before the elevator doors opened anew, Shepard covered her mouth with her hand, inhaling and exhaling in strain and in control.
She then pushed past us, leaving to the crew deck, and rushing up the winding stairs to the CIC.
In the blue-orange glow of the mess hall, Wrex and Ashley sat together, sharing lunch with some of the other crew. Once they saw Shepard marching upstairs, they all abandoned their meals. The other crew members hurried up the opposite set of stairs to follow the commotion, while Ashley and Wrex came over to us.
"What's gotten into her?" asked Wrex, leading the way up the steps. We all followed. "She all right?"
"Uh, no," was all Garrus could say.
"She's really not," added Tali.
Ashley demanded to know, "Well what the hell happened?! Why is she so pissed off?"
A casualty of Shepard's storm, we found Kaidan with his back pressed against one of the walls in the CIC. He stared after the commander in horror, watching as she made her way over to Navigator Pressly. Everyone else near the galaxy map shared in his panic, hurrying out of the way of Shepard's war path.
Everyone except for Pressly himself, who was preoccupied writing something down on a datapad.
However, he noticed Shepard at the last moment. Scrambling to salute her while simultaneously trying to hide his datapad out of sight, he kept fumbling around on her approach.
"Err, Commander?" he stuttered, caught in her headlights. "Commander, what can I do for you—?"
Shepard grabbed him by the blue and gold of his uniform collar. "You think this is a joke, Pressly?!" she raged. "I name you as my XO, and this is how you choose to represent me!?"
Navigator Pressly began to hyperventilate: frantic, flailing. "Ma'am, I-I didn't mean it!" he cried, under no illusions whatsoever as to his wrongdoing. "I was only trying to be cordial! H-How else was I supposed to relate to someone so foreign—?!"
"You're out of line! In case you forgot, this is my ship! Did you forget who I am, Pressly? Do you have a case of fucking amnesia? You forgot my principles, my rules, what I will and won't tolerate?!"
"No, Ma'am! No, Ma'am!"
"Bullshit!"
Shepard shoved Pressly against the wall.
He slumped to his knees, backpedaling and scrambling harder and harder against the surface.
Stepping to him again, the commander pulled at his collar tighter than before. She edged her face right in front of his, forcing him to look her in the eye. He kept floundering, resisting, heaving for breath by breathing in the full ire of Shepard's incense, yet she refused to relent.
"Take a good, long look at me, Pressly," she hissed, menacing. When he could only shut his eyes and whimper, Shepard slammed his back, his balding head harder against the wall. "Look at me!"
Eyes wide open now, Pressly stammered back, "I-I'm looking! I'm looking!"
In a low, sinister tone, Shepard posed a single question: "Now what makes you think you had the right to say the shit you did?"
"I had no right, Commander. None whatsoever!"
"No, tell me—honestly. What really made you write those words down, and hit send?"
"I… I don't know, Ma'am!"
"Well, you'd better come up with a real answer. Otherwise you're gonna find out real soon what it's like to get thrown out of an airlock."
Pressly hollered for mercy: "Okay, okay! Please, just—just let me breathe first! Let me breathe!"
Shepard pushed him away one last time before stepping back.
Navigator Pressly groaned and coughed in agony, his face heated with embarrassment: every single crew member aboard the Normandy had come up to watch the commotion. Those who had already been in the CIC remained rooted to their panels and other placements throughout the space. Those who had arrived from elsewhere aboard the ship—including Dr. Chakwas, Engineer Adams, and several others—had crowded and huddled around the galaxy map, gawking at the scene.
Joker, who had finished docking the ship at the fuel station, had limped over here from the helm. He stared, transfixed, along with everyone else, as their own self-preservation instincts had kicked in.
All they could do was hope and pray that they would never be in this same position—on the receiving end of the commander's justified rage.
"I'm waiting, Pressly," warned Shepard. "Don't test my patience."
Pressly, still crumpled upon the ground, forced out his answer, "Commander, ever since… Ever since the war, we've all been mistrustful. This is the Alliance military—a human military! Turian, asari, quarian, krogan? What do we look like, bringing these aliens aboard to participate in our operations? We look like traitors to our forefathers, that's what! And I'm not the only one who feels this way!"
Shepard looked around to the rest of the crew. "Is this true?" she posed, wholly serious. "Does someone else share Navigator Pressly's views? Any of you? Anyone?"
The human crew members crowding around us non-humans: every single one of them took one, if not several steps backward, away from the scene, away from any responsibility, their synced movements plain and loud as a joined march.
The other crew at their panels nearest the cockpit all exited their chairs, scrambling back and away as well, not wanting any part of this.
Brow raised, Shepard glared down at Pressly, speaking with a swaggering sort of authority: "Unless you're ready to name names, it looks like you're on your own."
Vindictive, Pressly spat back, "I am ready to name names, Ma'am! I won't go down on my own for staying true to our great history! And before you get started, this has nothing to do with you! It's not at all related to what your people suffered in years past… Haven't we as a species moved beyond those old wounds? You're nothing like those aliens—"
"—I'll be the one who decides that. Not you."
Shepard bent down and slung Navigator Pressly over her shoulder, picking him up with ease. She then proceeded to walk toward the airlock—knowing that we had docked somewhere already.
The rest of the crew in her path scurried out of her way.
Pressly protested, "What in seven hells are you doing, Shepard?! You can't do this to me! You can't!"
"I can and I am," she corrected. "You should have remembered this before you decided to disrespect my team. I won't tolerate it from you or anyone else! That's final."
"Shepard, this isn't fair!" he pouted, pounding on her back. "Put me down this instant!"
"Not happening. I've had enough of your shit! I'm tossing you out of here whether you like it or not."
"Commander, we're at a fuel station!"
"Too bad."
Commander Shepard opened the doors to the airlock.
She threw Pressly out to the concrete surface of the fuel station, startling the passersby and station workers. Far-away shouts as echoes, Pressly still tried to bargain with the commander, offering to give her a full list of those names in exchange for her forgiveness.
The commander ignored him, returning to the interior of the ship, leaving him abandoned outside.
When she returned, Shepard made known her next steps:
"As soon as I get back to my cabin, I'm performing an audit. Every single email correspondence and extranet search you've made while on this ship's Alliance network—I'm going over all of it with a fine-tooth comb, no matter how long it takes. So if you've got some relevant dirt in your history, guess what? You're ending up the same way!"
To my dismay, far too many of the crew exchanged horrified looks with one another.
"You know what? Let me make it easy for you. If any of you have some shit that you know damn well you're gonna get busted for, save yourselves the trouble! Get the hell off my ship, right now!"
More movement, more marching, scrambling: nearly all of the Normandy's crew hurried past where Shepard stood on the path to the helm, leaving the ship en masse. They knew better than to hesitate, to try doubling back to get their things first. Every single one of them left with only the clothes on their backs and whatever else they may have had on-hand, leaving the rest of us to absolute silence.
Only our squad remained, along with Joker, Dr. Chakwas, Engineer Adams, and a handful of others.
Shepard scoffed, at once indignant and knowing.
No surprise.
No remorse.
No regret for how she chose to run things.
How long had I spent here, gazing at her in amazement…
Shepard's fearlessness had pulled me in, carving this new craving inside of me.
Joker's need to make scathing light of the situation pushed through: "Seriously…? Are we the only non-racists left? I figured we'd have at least a few bad apples. Practically everyone? Sheesh!" Not liking this unbreakable edge about the commander, he spoke with her, "So, you, uh, gonna clean out their rooms now? I mean, I'd offer to help, but you know… Plus, it looks like I've got all these new responsibilities to handle on my own now that we're down to a skeleton crew! Guess you do, too."
"That's the plan," confirmed Shepard, making her way out of the CIC. "Joker, get us to the closest Alliance HQ space station. We're gonna have a lot of junk to dump in their lost and found department."
"Aye, aye, Ma'am!" obliged Joker with a grin, truly, as if nothing had happened.
As Shepard was about to pass Ashley by, she stopped.
The commander remained parallel to her, keeping our squadmate in her periphery.
Out of the corner of her eye, Commander Shepard took in the brimming sights of Ashley's tamed trembling, nervous breathing, and swallowing air.
Shepard questioned her, "What the hell is wrong with you, Williams?"
No answer.
"Are you seriously going to let me think you're one of them? You want me to make that assumption?"
Still no response.
"Suit yourself."
Shepard then left back downstairs to the crew's quarters; left her standing there, possibly exposed.
Kaidan couldn't bring himself to look at her.
Garrus departed without a word, avoiding her.
Wrex glared at her, before leaving to help Shepard clear out those now-vacant rooms.
Tali went up to Ashley and spoke her mind—"I don't know why I'm disappointed. I should look at the bright side instead: I've only known you for a couple of days. Should be pretty easy to stop myself from caring about you now."
Once Tali left, I remained here for the short duration of the trip to the Alliance's nearest space station.
I felt the same disappointment that Tali had mentioned, though it felt tempered, somehow.
Perhaps my usual aversion to friendships and society had built me to expect this. Or maybe it had something to do with the cryptic meaning from earlier in the vehicle bay, when Ashley had gawked at Shepard's beauty.
Eventually, Kaidan left to assist Shepard and Wrex with everything.
I made myself stay in this place, watching Ashley's discomfort grow with my continued regard of her.
I finally had my first real taste of possessiveness—metallic, like a pinch of blood over my tongue—and I couldn't look away, couldn't stop myself from making myself clear to her without words.
Even if Shepard never returned my curiosities, my growing affections for her;
Even if Shepard would only flee from me in learning about my proclivities;
Even if Shepard had no real interest in me whatsoever:
I understood where my mind had gone, and I had no intention of ever guiding its path elsewhere.
Commander Shepard elected to keep the Normandy docked here at this military base while she handled the fallout of the events with the crew.
We stayed here for about a week or so. Kaidan assisted Shepard in dealing with the bureaucracy of the whole affair: resignation letters, possible disciplinary hearings, and sending all of the former crew's belongings to that lost and found department that the commander had mentioned.
Joker, Dr. Chakwas, Engineer Adams, and the remaining Alliance crew also needed some time to acclimate to all of their new, voluntary, responsibilities after the reshuffling.
Shepard decided against assigning a new executive officer, choosing to instead handle those duties on her own. She had been the Normandy's XO before under Captain Anderson's leadership, and so she was no stranger to those associated tasks. For formality's sake, she at least named Lieutenant Alenko as her second-in-command, leaving him as the ship's marine officer in charge of security and weapons.
The commander wasted no time in getting to work—as soon as we arrived to the sterilized cleanliness of the solid blue-and-white military base, Shepard arranged deliveries for all of the squad's other clothing and personal articles to arrive here from our homes. So, along with all of the Alliance paperwork with the crew, we also stayed here to wait for those deliveries to reach us within the next few days.
Of my personal items, I had the perfect thing in mind to give to Shepard as a gift: a thank you from me to her, for all that she had done to help us feel welcome and at home aboard her ship.
I wasn't sure how long it would take me to draw up the nerve to actually give the gift to her, however…
For the time being, the squad and I, minus Ashley, had picked up some snacks and supplies together from one of the military base's many convenience stores. We stayed together right outside the store, standing near a bench.
Not too far out of view, the Normandy remained docked against the backdrop of the space station's transparent overhead structure. Passing through the open airlock, a handful of Alliance military personnel brought out several more bags containing the former crew's belongings.
This starry view comforted me, swelling my optimism for the days, weeks, and months that lay ahead.
Everyone around me seemed to be in a much better mood, joking openly as we indulged in our snacks. I enjoyed this bottle of raspberry juice I had purchase, sipping the beverage through a straw: a sweet, sugary reminder of my first meeting with our ship's captain.
Wrex and Garrus engaged in a jovial re-enactment of the commander throwing Pressly out of the ship.
Tali stood next to me with her bottle of filtered soda, laughing at our little impromptu show.
Kaidan, still reeling a bit from everything, remained seated on the bench, smiling every so often with us.
Now that Kaidan was here with us, though, this meant that Shepard was nearly finished with all of the paperwork and other details.
I hoped that she would come over to join us soon.
But, given how much Shepard preferred to keep to herself, I knew that my hopes were rather silly.
Breathing hard as the re-enactment ended, Garrus smirked at me. "You know, Liara…there's something about that whole episode that I can't seem to stop thinking about."
"What is it?" I asked.
"Once Shepard read those emails—remember the way she looked at you, then sprang into action?"
As if I could have forgotten: "Well, yes, of course…"
Tali pulled me in with a big hug. "It's because she saw that you'd been crying! Our brave, brave captain wouldn't let anyone get away with hurting you, Liara. She had to protect your precious spirit!"
"Aww, is that what happened?" teased Wrex. "Seemed like Shepard was extra pissed somehow. Guess that explains it!"
"Wait, really?" asked Kaidan, as if waking up from his own thoughts. "Is that true?"
Hiding myself from them, I could only mumble back, "I have no idea what it is you mean…"
"Sure you do," encouraged Garrus. "The way you looked at Shepard with those big, innocent blue eyes of yours, she couldn't resist. You even gave her one of these—" He sniffled, delicate. "It was downright adorable, I'll say. How could the commander not want to take out the guy who upset you?"
Giggling in a fervor, Tali hugged me tighter. Wrex laughed in good-humor, not meaning me any harm at all, while Kaidan had grown red in the face, busying himself with the bottle of beer he had purchased.
I protested, "Now hold on just one minute! I didn't do any of that on purpose…"
"You didn't have to, silly!" said Tali. "It's all a part of you. All part of your sweet, lovely personality that drives Commander Shepard to the ends of the galaxy, in your honor."
"Tali, you make it all sound so—maudlin."
"Oh, I know! This reminds me of some of my favorite romantic films, that's all."
Wrex smirked. "You watch those things, Tali? Chick flicks?"
"They are not chick flicks!" insisted Tali. "They are wonderfully epic and moving stories that inspire me to see the best in people!" When Wrex simply laughed again, Tali sighed, muttering to herself: "Kicking that racist Pressly out on his ass on a fuel station in the middle of nowhere. That was the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me…"
We spotted Joker ambling over to us, waving hello as he neared.
"Hey, guys, big news!" he cheered. "Now that we have next-to-no crew on the Normandy, the commander added all of you to the Alliance's payroll! It's officially coming out of the Council's budget, since, well, I guess this is more of a Spectre thing than a military thing. You should be getting your first pay wired to your accounts soon."
"That's great and all," noted Wrex, suspicious of Joker now. "If this is about us, why're you so excited?"
Joker gave a thumbs-up. "'Cause I'm getting a raise, that's why! This means I can finally get those—" He stopped himself from sharing any additional details. "Uh, there's something expensive I wanted to buy, and now this covers it. Happy now?"
"Yeah, yeah. None of our business anyway."
Sounding hurt, Joker said, "Uh, wait… Kaidan's here, so I figured… Ah, shit." He looked to each of us. "After that whole showdown on the ship, am I, like, not invited, or…? No other humans allowed?"
Tali beckoned him closer. "Don't worry, Joker, you can join us," she allowed. "You're one of the good ones."
"Ouch… Thanks, Tali, I get it. I'll try to keep staying as one of the good ones!"
"By the way, Joker," said Kaidan, sounding distant. "Any idea what Ashley's been up to?"
Joker did a double-take. "Who, her?" he ridiculed. "Dude, I don't freaking know Ash anymore. You wanna know how she's doing? Go find her yourself!"
Kaidan bolted to his feet. "Fine, I will!" he declared. "Unlike you, Joker, I refuse to believe that Ash is one of them. I know her. There must be a way to solve things peacefully." He looked to each of us, one at a time. "For the record, I'm not taking sides… What Navigator Pressly and the others did was horrible, and I won't make excuses for them. But this, with Chief Williams: I don't want it to affect our morale and teamwork during missions together. I'll get to the bottom of this, I swear!"
We all watched him leave back to the ship.
Joker glared at him as he went. "Yeah, we'll see about that, buddy…"
"Hmm, not sure how I feel about this," pondered Garrus. "After all that, this is what he has to say?"
Wrex, too, had little sympathy. "Not taking sides is weak," he chastised. "If everyone did that all the time, we'd get nowhere in life. Sometimes you've gotta make a choice. He made the wrong one."
"That's too bad," mourned Tali. "I guess all we can do is wait to see what he comes up with. If he comes up with anything. I have to admire his optimism, at least."
I wanted nothing to do with Ashley, though not necessarily for the same reasons as everyone else.
I hoped that no one decided to ask for my opinion, otherwise I may have been forced to explain why.