Pressly met the team at the Normandy, anticipating the next and final stage of our hellish journey on Feros: decontamination. The colonists took a little time to come around, Shiala surprisingly volunteering to watch over the remaining colonists out of…guilt. Or Duty.
Like the rest of my ground team, I was ready to be done with Feros. I needed a shower, a warm bed and a hot meal made of solid food.
The immediate area off the docking station for the ship was divided into two large sections; one for vehicle decontamination and one for personnel.
Our alien crew presented a unique challenge to our SOP for personnel decontamination. Normally, all personnel passed one at a time through a divided tent staffed by several teams. In the first stage you're hosed down with soap and water, then sprayed with an oxidation solution, and finally with an acid/alkaline hydrolysis. When that's complete, you take your armour off, discard all next to skin clothing, and pass through the second phase. Teams, equipped with scrub brushes not all that dissimilar from one you'd wash your vehicle with, hose you down, scrub you with hypochlorite solution, and then supervise you while you cover every single inch of your body with a decontaminant lotion. At the end of line, you receive whatever available clothing, cloth, or emergency blanket available to protect you from the elements.
I made a false assumption earlier that day when I charged gas grenades with toxin meant for humans, and killed a Salarian. Before we began any operations, I had Pressly brief me on every single chemical being used and reviewed his research. Shockingly, we could all pass through the same process, save for Tali who would leave her suit on throughout and change into a new suit once aboard the ship.
Charles Pressly was a good officer. He took pride in his work, and although he had expressed some views towards aliens that may have been short-sighted, he did genuinely care for each and every person aboard the Normandy, aliens included. The challenge now rested with my decontamination crew, who would now know, truly know, what a "quad" was.
I strode towards the bridge dressed in some old gym shorts and a faded Alliance t-shirt that the crew had been kind enough to have ready for me. Joker turned in his pilot seat, eyebrow raised as he looked me up and down, examining his commanding officer in leisure clothes and covered in decontamination lotion from head to toe.
"What the hell happened down there?"
"There were…spores."
He paused and contemplated the answer.
"Uh huh. Okay. Well, I have good news and bad news, and lucky you, they're both the same thing." He said brightly.
"Joker, I haven't slept in four days." I reminded him, urging him to get to the point.
"The Alliance isn't satisfied with the ground decontamination protocols here, you know, since we called in chemical and medical companies to help the colony. So, we are hereby ordered to…" He held a data pad in his hand and read verbatim the orders we had received from Fifth Fleet "dock at Pinnacle Station for not less than 48 hours in order to ensure complete decontamination of Alliance equipment, systems, and personnel."
I rolled my eyes, tilted my head towards the ceiling, then shrugged my shoulders, shaking my head at him.
"Did Charles fight it?" I asked, tiredly.
"Oh yeah, for days." He replied. "Hackett himself came aboard him and ordered it be done."
I suppressed the urge to groan.
"Commander," he began, sarcasm dripping from his voice, "The decontamination of equipment is complicated because different types of equipment must be decontaminated by different means,"
"Joker…" I warned.
"For example, personal equipment; i,e., rifles, tools, and other gear, must be decontaminated by a different process than sensitive equipment, i,e., communications equipment, navigational equipment, computers, and avionics,"
"I'm going to sleep. Wake me when we're at Pinnacle."
"Which, almost by definition, cannot be exposed to aqueous decontaminants or strong oxidizing or caustic solutions. Interior equipment, i.e, the interior of vehicles, aircraft, and shelters, have unique requirements because personnel are likely to operate in these confined areas with reduced protection."
"Good night, Joker!" His voice trailed off as I walked towards my cabin, feet almost dragging from exhaustion.
I entered my cabin and took a deep breath. Recycled air never smelled so good. I sighed audibly to myself and stripped naked, and treaded towards the head, enjoying the cool air on my body. Sighing in relief, I turned the faucet, the hot water hitting me with enough pressure to call it a real shower. One benefit of being planet side was clean, water, filtered through the local supply. An audible groan escaped me as I ran my hands over my head, shampooing and scrubbing the sticky decontamination lotion from my skin, wincing whenever I elevated my shoulder too high. I turned the faucet clockwise and the heat turned my skin to an angry red, filling the cubicle with steam. I'd have to see Chakwas about it later.
Leaning my forehead against the cramped shower wall, I closed my eyes. Instantly, images flashed behind my eye lids. A dark tunnel, rain beating the dirt above, a flicker of bright red light, a flash of white. Loneliness. Crushing, hopeless, loneliness. My eyes snapped open, and I found myself struggling to breathe normally, nearly hyperventilating. Shakily, I turned the faucet, the water now gone cold, and stepped out of the shower cubicle, shaking equally from the cold air and water and from the waking nightmare I played each time I closed my eyes.
Towel around my waist, I sat on the edge of my bed and took a few deep breaths, drawing from lessons in meditation I'd received many, many years prior. Clear your mind, I told myself, you're a stone on a distant shore. But my efforts were fruitless. The Cypher had invaded my mind, and I was helpless to stop it.
I am standing at the precipice of the Thorian, and I can feel its anger, its resentment, its feeling of abandonment. I want to become a part of it, to learn its secrets, to discover the truth of it. It demands sacrifice and those that wish to live amongst it must offer fair trade. Knowledge for knowledge. Life for life. Its urge to cannibalize is repulsive.
Shiala is standing next to me, prepared to offer herself to the great, Old Growth in trade for Saren. She is honoured, she's excited.
'Do you hear it?" She asks.
I stop a moment and listen. There is a wrongness within her. Some fundamental defect that's spreading like a cancer, determined to destroy its host.
I can hear the whispers, like sharp nails clawing in her head, in my head.
"Do not listen." She instructs. Saren's absolutism, his vision, his goals, are irrefutable truths in her mind.
"I can shut them out." I tell her.
"Benezia could not." She says. "her mind is no longer her own."
She steps inside of the Thorian and my mind is filled with visions. Creatures above and around me, feeding me, building, building, then…gone. The collective experience of a dead race, of many dead races, is here within it. I've been given a key, but I fear twisting it in the locked door. Shiala holds my hand to it, twists the key and the flood gates open. It's unending, the death and destruction. It's a kind of hopelessness with which I'm entirely unfamiliar.
The Thorian will persist, it will plant a seed for the next unworthy race, it knows the cycle will continue. It remembers all. It remembers everything.
Everything was still so unclear; I had no context for any of it. My hands were shaking, my heart was racing, and sitting in the cold dark, I entered that state of exhaustion where sleep was no longer easily achieved. Rubbing my hands over my face, I tried to erase the dark shadows under my eyes and banish my weariness. My shoulder throbbed.
I decided that if I couldn't sleep, I'd at least be productive, and walked down to the ready bay to check in on the crew.
Tucks and Chase were strapping the Mako in place, careful to avoid eye contact with the Krogan whose state of undress had never been observed on the ship. He carved a wake through the crew as he made his way towards the small alcove he's carved for himself in the bay.
"Get out of the way," he growled at Dubyanski. The young crewman gathered his gear and scuttled to the opposite side of the Mako, assisting the crew working there.
"Little do they know," Garrus started, "the scary Krogan warrior had the lowest body count."
Wrex thumped his armour on a weapons bench and glared at Garrus, his eyes red. "It's easier to believe all Krogan are animals, isn't it?"
Garrus cocked his head to the side, surprised by Wrex's response. "Your species hasn't given much indication it prefers the peaceful approach to most things." Garrus said tactfully. "That's all I'm saying."
Wrex just shook his head, back and forth, slowly, as if he knew something Garrus did not, eyes never leaving the Turian's. "You've either learned something from this, or you should go home, kid."
Garrus' mandibles twitched. Wrex laughed, low and deep, you could almost feel it rumble in the bay, and ducked into his alcove to sleep. Garrus grabbed a tool bag and marched over to the Mako to assess the damage and begin repairs, likely also too tired to sleep.
My next stop was the med bay, where I found Kaidan sitting with his head in his hands while Dr. Chakwas busily pulled vials of medication from her cabinets. Ashley stood beside Kaidan, a look of worry on her face.
"I'm fine." He told the room, wrinkles forming around his eyes as he grimaced and grit his teeth. "I just need somewhere dark, and cold, and quiet."
"I have some triptans for you." Chakwas said, readying an injection and swabbing the base of his skull. "24 hours bed rest. Chief Williams will ensure the noise levels aren't of concern." Ashley nodded in understanding, and offered a supporting squeeze to Kaidan's shoulder.
"Feel better, killer." She said, careful to keep her voice quiet. She sidled up to me as I watched Chakwas give Kaidan his injection. She leaned in close so she could keep her voice close to a whisper. "Dr. T'Soni was here a little while ago to adjust his amp. She was looking for you."
I grunted and motioned to continue our conversation outside the med bay. "I'll be in my quarters, if anyone is looking for me. Joker has orders to wake me when we get to Pinnacle."
"Pinnacle?" She said raising her brow, voice characteristically raised now that we were out of the med bay. Several crewmen looked up from their work.
"Orders from Fifth Fleet." I told her, exhaustion palpable in my voice. "Decontamination, etcetera."
"It might give us time to refit the aliens with some proper gear." Ashley said.
I hadn't thought of it. Initially, I'd been upset by the order to dock as it would take precious time away from our mission. My instinct to fight the order may have been wrong. The pause would allow us to reconstitute, to gear up, to prepare, to refresh. Hackett may have sensed my burnout from afar, undoubtedly influenced by Andersen. Good commanders know when to throw flags down on the play, even though their troops are still eager to drive forward. Two days would give me time to outfit the entire crew properly with weapons and equipment and Pinnacle was famous for its weapons competitions and prepositioned gear.
"I can trust you to get it sorted?" I asked her.
She cocked her head and smirked, as if to ask really? "Yes, Sir. Got you covered. I'll also make sure their canteen is ready. I need a drink."
Thanking her with a brief smile, I turned and left for my cabin, fatigue now coursing through my body demanding a bed to sleep.
I sat down on the bed again, closing my eyes, trying to drive the images Shiala had left me away. But my drive to know just wouldn't let me.
When the door chimed, I silently cheered its rescue.
"Come in." I croaked, standing and adjusting my posture to at least appear whole and ready.
The door slid open and she stepped inside, nervously wringing her hands. She'd found time to clean up, dressed in a fresh set of Alliance day dress, but her eyes looked as tired as I felt. She paused to examine my quarters; a spartan set up with no décor or personalization to speak of. A bed, a table, a lamp, a desk facing the adjacent wall, and two chairs. I followed her gaze to my right arm, where the bruising stretched from my shoulder to my wrist. My arm started to throb again at her assessment.
"Liara." I walked towards my desk and held the back of my chair with both hands. "What can I do for you?"
"I wanted - how are you feeling?" She asked.
"I should be asking you the same thing." I smiled, not really eager to describe the encounter with Shiala but knowing that was the reason she had hesitantly knocked on my door.
"I am fine." She said, examining my face. I got the feeling she would easily see past the mask of readiness I'd painted for myself. "The joining can be…taxing, especially the first time." She said cautiously, probing for an answer to a question she hadn't asked.
I ran my hand over my head and winced, "It was…not what I was expecting." I tried to explain.
"Do you need to have that looked at?" She asked, gesturing at the bruising on my arm.
The question threw me off a little. I folded my hands and smiled at her, she fidgeted and looked towards the door, no doubt thinking of an excuse to retreat.
"This can wait." She began quickly, but leaving her feet planted in place, "I should come back later, this is an inappropriate time…"
"Liara…What can I do for you?" I repeated the question softly, and offered her the chair next to me. She barely perceptibly sighed in relief and finally took the vacant chair and I took mine.
She started to fiddle with her hands again and I could guess the question she was working up the courage to ask. "I don't know where your mother is." I told her, and she did her best to hide her disappointment. "Saren concealed his plans from Shiala very…deliberately. She could only offer the cypher."
"What is it?"
I leaned back in my chair, stared at the ceiling. Closed my eyes, tried to think. Such a simple question but the answer alluded me. When my eyes met hers again several seconds later, I found her waiting curiously. "It's a key…I think, anyway. The Thorian, it was many thousands of years old. Older than the Protheans." I leaned forward, desperate to find the words adequate enough to describe the monster we'd killed. "It was…it lived in cycles. Hidden, almost. Around everything. It observed them and later, absorbed them. Just like it was going to do to you, Lt. Alenko, and Shiala."
I watched her shudder, her mind almost certainly bringing her back to her captivity within the creature.
"It was lonely." I said, my voice suddenly sad. "And angry. I don't know how it worked, but, whatever it absorbed from the Protheans, it was part of the Thorian, then. It's like a photographic memory of everything that came before it. But it makes no sense to me. I have no context. It's just pictures without meaning."
"The Prothean beacons transmit data using technology specifically designed for their physiology. We do not have the same neural structures; therefore, we do not understand the data." She explained.
"I think the cypher gives you that ability." I told her, "It, in some way, has those neural pathways and can imprint them."
"Goddess," she breathed, sitting taller in her chair, eyes wide with understanding. "This is incredible. What did you see? Do you understand the beacon's message?"
I smiled weakly. "Shiala said it would take time…but. It's just images. Sometimes I see people, or places. Sometimes it's just feelings. Sometimes I see things from the past and other times it feels like I'm watching the future. Between all the Prothean, asari and Thorian things floating around in my head, I can't get a handle on anything." I tried to smile again, desperate not to look as pathetic as I thought I sounded. I clenched my fists to stop my hands from shaking.
Liara took notice, but didn't make it obvious. "That must be difficult." She said, friendliness and sympathy in her voice.
"Difficult is the job." I said, sitting up in my chair and correcting my posture. "I have to stop him. Nothing else matters."
She leaned forward, eyes never leaving mine. "Commander, I do not know anything about the Thorian, but I do understand asari, and I know Protheans. Perhaps I could help."
"How?"
She tilted her head towards me and offered a small smile. The realization dawned on me.
"I uh…" I hesitated, heart pounding again, beads of sweat beginning to form along my hairline, a chill went through my body. Entering another meld, opening the door to the images, the vision, my own mind again was about as unappealing a plan as I could imagine. She sensed my fear, but also knew my need for answers, to find Saren and defeat him, would outweigh the dread I felt.
I swallowed hard, "Ok." I said, "if you think it will help us find him."
Standing, I shuffled away from the desk chairs and she did the same. "Is this –"
"This is fine." She said, standing so close to me I could feel her warmth. My heart started beating in my ears.
She reached up to touch my face and I held her had away. Her fingers were cold, unaccustomed to the chilly recycled air of the ship.
"Are you sure about this? It's…a lot. I can't tell you the nightmares I've had."
Her eyes softened, her determination not breaking for a second. "I am sure." She said, squeezing my fingers before slipping her hand from mine and laying it on my cheek. I felt disappointment rush through me, and fought an urge to hold both of her hands in mine, thinking I might have felt safest there.
"Close your eyes." She said softly. The air became heavy, and charged. I felt buzzing under my skin. It began to feel as if I were underwater but still able to breathe. "Embrace eternity."
I take her to the Thorian, to Shiala. She is in awe of it.
Such an ancient creature, she's never known something to have such a life span. The Thorian could unlock all manner of understanding, provide endless knowledge to the universe. But she learns what I have learned; that the creature feels it is above such trivial things, these pests that live around it, happy in their ignorance, unknowingly giving to the Thorian the sacrifice it demands. The Thorian is greed and terror and pestilence. It is only concerned for itself. Liara's disappointment is immeasurable.
Liara is eager to go through the door with Shiala. She seeks answers, she wants to know where her mother is.
"No." I tell her. "Listen. Do you hear it?"
The whispers that plague Shiala's mind. She can hear them.
"Don't listen to it." I order her.
She sees through Shiala, the mind of her mother, and she knows that her mother did not shut the voices out. That perhaps, her mother could not shut the voices out. She rages against the realization and I redirect her attention to Shiala.
This one worships her mother, is a devoted servant, someone who loved, loves, her mother as she knew her; strong, kind, unconquerable. Liara knows her mother better than Shiala, sees that she sought to temper Saren's ambition, guide him towards goodwill, use his power to affect positive change. But she has failed.
She presses further, the whispers echoing stronger. I clutch at her hand and remind her not to listen. She is desperate for answers, and nearly overwhelmed with desolation.
"Your mother didn't know. It was too late." I told her as Shiala had told me.
Liara opens her mind and memories come rushing through. Memories of her childhood, of her and Benezia.
She's on a grassy hill, the sun is shining, birds are swooping in and out of view towards the ocean and over the cliff. Fruits and breads are laid out on a blanket next to them. Liara explores the vast open plain, searching for clues of long-lost civilizations. Benezia had scolded her the day before for digging in the garden, but today, she's allowed to dig wherever she pleases under the watchful eye of her mother.
Another childhood memory, standing in the Temple of Athame. Benezia takes her here once a year just because Liara loves it so much. She raises on tip toes to read information about the artifacts, which Benezia knows to read aloud to her, no matter how many times she's heard it. She's waiting for her mother to tell her an extra story. Some untold myth of ancestral memory.
Suddenly, we're in her childhood home. Liara holds Benezia's hand tightly as she greets dignitaries and makes introductions. She's shy, her mother knows, but she feels safe and protected against all danger when near her. Her mother hugs her tightly, once the strangers have made their departure and promises to take her to the park.
She's not a monster, Liara tries to tell me through these memories. She can be saved.
Something tells me she's beyond that now. Those whispers are hollers the closer I venture. I dare not follow.
Liara closes the door suddenly, the feeling of embarrassment running through her.
"I'm sorry." I tell her.
She looks away.
The Thorian, Shiala, Benezia are nowhere, as soon as Liara shuts the door to her memories, I'm overwhelmed by confusion and disorder.
She sees another door, she has the key now. She reaches up to step through it and I stop her. I'm frightened.
"You have to let me in." She says softly. She takes my hands in hers, and for a moment I feel comfort. She is the one with all the armour in this place. "I am here." She whispers, drawing me closer. "I will not let you go. We will do this, together."
A blinding red light. A flash of white. All I can hear are her screams.