The Coming Storm
Hackett's voice echoed on the holodeck. "Commander. Something on your mind?" She could hear the hum of the Normandy's engines as it whispered through the stars. Hackett stared at her stoically, arms clasped behind his back.
Shepard spoke hoarsely. "If I may Admiral - I have a personal question…"
"Speak freely, Commander." Hackett's silver hair was blue in the light of the hologram.
Shepard shifted. "Why me?" The words seemed to echo in the air. "Why put me in charge of all this?"
Admiral Hackett inclined his head towards her. "You made the tough calls and got the job done."
"And because of that, you think I qualify to save the galaxy?" Shepard asked incredulously. Hackett's form shifted, flickered, and for a moment was replaced with the form of a child - the little boy she'd seen board the downed shuttle on Earth, the kid in the air duct. Then, with a flicker of blue light, Hackett reappeared and continued speaking. She heard the Catalyst's voice, "my solution… a new solution was required." But she saw Hackett's mouth move, forming different words. His voice and mouth began to match up again. "There was no good reason to believe you'd win."
There was a ripple in the hologram of Hackett again. But this time it looked different. Instead of glitching projections, his image rippled as if it had been projected on water and someone had tossed in a stone. In the wake of the ripples Shepard stared into the many bright enormous eyes of the Leviathan and heard it speak. "Your nature will be revealed… none have possessed the strength in past cycles… but you are different…"
The ripples kept coursing through the blue light, and Shepard heard Anderson's voice, "Soldiers like the Commander are rare." The ripples spread further and further, the holodeck of the Normandy disappearing as they passed.
She heard Leviathan again, "You are an anomaly…"
The ship was entirely gone now. She hurtled alone past stars and systems, leaping through the relays as if she was on outstretched wings.
"We need you, Shepard." She heard Anderson's voice again and she could see him. She wasn't in the sky anymore. She was over water that reflected the stars above her, and there, below the surface, was Anderson. Her heart ached. "You've lost a lot," she heard his voice say. She reached towards the water with a hand that glowed with lines of green light, and plunged it in.
The Leviathan spoke again. "You cannot conceive of a galaxy that bends to your will." She saw her hand meet Anderson's in the water. She gritted her teeth and pulled with all her might. The water was now dancing with green light instead of blue. She could still make out Anderson through the rippling brilliant waves, feel a great weight in her hand, a weight she must bear, a prize she must not let slip away. Her hand began to emerge from the water. She held a four fingered hand lit with blazing green strands like her own.
"Until the intelligence finds what it's looking for… the Harvest will continue…" she heard Leviathan hiss as she stared at the unfamiliar hand. Her heart pounded; she searched the water below desperately for Anderson. He had just been there! She had seen him take her hand. But Shepard found nothing but a pair of glowing green eyes in the water's depths.
Pain blazed through her head, like talons in her skull, and she cried out, letting the hand slip away as she pressed her hands to her forehead. She could feel a great wind. The water she had been reaching into was gone. She was hurtling through space again, fear clenching at her heart. She could feel parts of her burning with searing heat. Further, she must flee, she must escape. Something slammed into her side, and the burning intensified.
"Run, Shepard!" she heard Anderson bark from the stars. Her heart ached at the sound as if it was on fire.
It was gaining on her. She could feel it. It would catch her, take her, break her. She heard Leviathan's voice whisper again, "you will remain here… a servant to our needs."
"You know what you have to do!" Anderson called again as a relay in the distance grew near. If she could just get to it… "Now, go!"
But they were here. She felt the fire running through her; another impact hit. Shepard could feel herself breaking apart, burning away. She felt the agony of those digging talons once again in her mind, could hear the rush of wings and a screeching cry echoing off the very stars. The burning in her chest grew. She could feel the fire pressing outwards. Shepard pressed both hands to her chest as if she could restrain the burning pressure, but there was a crack and a stab of pain and in a blaze of fire she was gone.
/././././././././././././
Garrus cursed. It was happening again. Shepard was writhing on the bed, pressing both hands to her chest, clawing at it as if it pained her. She had slept soundly in his arms for hours. He'd even managed to drift off one or two times as well. But then her pulse had quickened and she began to toss in her sleep. He had tried to call to her, even retrieved water from their bathroom and gently splashed her face, hoping something would pull her out.
This had been a terrible idea. What was he thinking? Liara was gone, Javik was gone, the damn Normandy and its engine room weren't here. It was just him. Useless him. The strands across her body were gleaming in the night and her biotics raged. He'd seen her control the strange light in the bar, and she hadn't had a dream like this since Rannoch. He had thought things were OK… he was a fool.
Shepard's biotics flashed in her hands, her hands that were pressed directly against her chest. He saw the skin there begin to blacken and Shepard's back arched on the bed as she cried out in pain. Garrus grabbed her hands, trying to pull them away, but a shock flared from her biotics. He grunted as the biotics seared him, let go of her, and shook his hand as it stung.
Something collided with the far side of the antique hinged door to their room and it flew open. Atala entered swiftly, crouched, a pistol in her hands, up and ready to fire. Her gaze flicked around the room in confusion and she quickly crossed to Garrus. "What the hell is going on?" Then she saw Shepard and her turquoise eyes widened, the light from Shepard's strands reflecting in them. "Spirits, what's wrong with her?"
Garrus didn't bother answering. Shepard's biotics were starting to leap away from her now: a blast knocked a vase from one of the tables beside the bed and it crashed to the floor. From the side of the bed Garrus' comm sprang to life.
"Garrus?" came Joker's voice, "what the hell's happening?"
Shepard's biotics flashed and Garrus felt it push past him. It hadn't been focused or directed but the force had nearly been strong enough to wind him. The strands across Shepard flashed again.
But Atala threw her own biotic shield around the Commander, grunting as the females' biotics met one another.
"Garrus!" Joker yelled again, "what's happening to the Commander? The Normandy's full of static and our engines keep trying to fire up in the middle of the hangar!"
"What the hell do you mean, Joker?" Shepard had plenty of nightmares like this on the Normandy and nothing had ever happened to it. The Normandy only seemed to respond when she had one of the PTSD episodes, or that time when she had been staring at the galaxy map.
"I mean I'm trying to stop the Normandy from bursting through the wall of the embassy's hangar and setting the building on fire and it's fighting me very hard! EDI says Shepard is in the computers."
Atala's expression was full of confusion as she continued to hold Shepard's crackling biotics within her shield. She merely looked at her brother and said, "How do we fix this? Tell me what you need me to do."
Garrus' heart was pounding with panic and frustration. "This is different all the time. We don't have a set way of dealing with this."
"What have you done before?" Atala asked quickly.
"She… the Normandy's engines… the sound it makes. Sometimes that calms her down." He shook his head in frustration. "But they're an hour's flight from here, and we don't even know if Joker can control the ship."
Atala frowned.
There was a roaring sound through Garrus' comm. Shepard's biotics flashed, Atala grunted with effort as her shield was pushed back a few inches, and Joker cried, "Garrus, you have to do something to fix this now!"
"I have an idea!" Atala said. "Grab her and follow me." Atala's shields dropped and smaller ones crackled into life around Shepard's hands, which seemed to be doing most of the damage. Garrus swept the Commander into his arms and the two turians dashed from the room. Atala led Garrus down the stairs, through a doorway to the east wing.
"Shit!" Garrus breathed.
"What?" asked Atala, trotting just ahead of him.
"She's burning up." Shepard's skin was hot against his carapace and he could see sweat beading on her brow and darkening her hair. "It's like she's suddenly got a fever!"
Atala led him through an archway at the back of the house, down a long spiraling staircase that Garrus remembered led to the hydropumps that helped to power the house. Their bare, scaled feet padded softly against the stones, talons clacking slightly as they hurried down and down, deep into the side of the mountain home.
They emerged on a landing and Atala hauled open a door, the sound of rushing water spilling from beyond the threshold as she did. Garrus carried Shepard inside. Here water crashed down the walls of the circular chamber, falling into a natural rock pool just below a circular platform.
"It's not quite engines," Atala said over the low roar of the water, "but it'll have to do."
Garrus carried Shepard to the edge of the platform. He held her burning face close to his and said gently, "Moria. Come back." She was even hotter than she'd been earlier.
"Garrus!" Joker called from the comm again, "these engines can't take this! EDI is running every way of overriding Shepard's commands she can but there aren't any more options. They still keep trying to fire up. The Normandy can't take this. It's getting too hot."
Garrus released a low growl, edged with a panicked whine. He ran a hand along Shepards face, his palm slick with the beads of sweat now starting to run from her brow. He stared unseeingly at the dark waters for a moment… and then Garrus leapt off the edge of the platform and he and Shepard plunged into the water.
/././././././
The cold hit him like a biotic blast, such a contrast to the burning woman in his arms. He could hear the muffled roar of the falls around them through the water. He drifted slowly down through the freezing water… hoping... mentally begging the spirits of his home to hear him. To do something. The cold tides wrapped around them like a cocoon and for a heartbeat he wished the two of them could remain there forever, where the horrors of the world could not reach.
/././././././././././
Atala finished counting to sixty for the second time, staring into the waters; they were a gently churning white haze, through which there was no sign of the pair that had plunged into their depths. Deep concern filled her. Based on her conversation with Shepard earlier that night, she was pretty sure Garrus was just as shitty of a swimmer as he was when he left to go work at C-Sec. She had seen in his files that he had spent a small portion of credits on dancing lessons (for some reason) but hadn't seen anything as useful as, you know, learning to swim.
She was going to have to do so much paperwork if the two of them drowned. Commander Shepard saves the galaxy, dies, and comes back to life for a second time, has a jolly old time on Rannoch, a place with no security measures to speak of and, like, no civilization, then comes to the city on Palaven that is about to host a diplomatic summit for the Council and dies with her boyfriend, who happens to be the son of the Chief of Security. No one was even going to remember the Relay 314 Incident in the wake of that political shitstorm. She was about to dive into the waters herself, intending to pull them out or die trying to avoid the next galactic war, when the water erupted in a blast of green light.
/./././././././././
It was dark and cold and Shepard felt weightless. A huge wave of relief swept through her. If she was this cold... if it was this dark… and she could feel no air in her lungs… the Normandy must have just blown, and these thoughts running through her head, the nightmares about the Reapers coming to Earth, fantasies about being with Garrus on Palaven… they must be the machinations of her brain slowly freezing in the cold void of space. It was taking surprisingly long… and everything she'd dreamed had been pretty damn vivid.
Part of her felt bad. She knew the Reapers were still out there… but she'd gotten every single one of her people in those escape pods. She'd rang the alarm bell. Done her duty. It was someone else's fight now. She could just float here with her eyes closed and wait…
But then she felt those talons digging into her slowly fading mind; heard a voice rumble, "Shepard…" and saw blue gray eyes…
/./././././././././.
A column of open air appeared around Garrus and Shepard. Garrus dropped a few inches before landing on his feet, still holding Shepard, the two of them now completely soaked. He stared at the gleaming walls of biotic energy holding back the water around him. Shepard coughed in his arms. Her eyes were finally open and registering her surroundings. They were a good seven feet below Atala and the platform. The spy stared down at them, her eyes wide in shock. Garrus wondered if Shepard's shields would hold long enough for them to get out. She was starting to shiver, her body no longer burning, but he knew that being in clothes soaked by the icy mountain waters was not going to be something she could take for long. From the platform above them, Atala extended a hand and a shield of her biotics shimmered into life about four feet off the ground. "Get on that!" she said, "I'll make a few more!" Shepard still in his arms, Garrus lept easily onto the shield, Atala gritted her teeth as it held their weight. She made three more, till Garrus was finally high enough to push Shepard onto the edge of the platform and haul himself up.
A moment or two later, Shepard's shields fell and the water rushed back into the spot where she and Garrus had been. She was still coughing and Garrus began to roll her onto her side when she cried out in pain, reaching towards her chest with one arm. The skin on her chest beneath the tank top she had been sleeping in was heavily bruised and the line of her left collarbone had a strange bend in it that Garrus knew could be nothing but bad news.
He pulled her up as gently as he could and shifted to a kneeling position, so that as he lowered her again, her head and shoulders rested in his lap. He tapped his omnitool open and was about to administer medigel to mend the break when Atala's hand stopped him.
She shook her head. "Something like that needs to be set by an expert. Hold on." She stood up and dashed out the door. Garrus sat stroking Moria's wet hair. Her coughing slowly subsided, to his deep relief, as each time she coughed she also cried out in pain from the broken bone.
"Garrus?" Joker asked through the comm, "you two OK?"
"Yeah, yeah." Garrus said. Shepard gave him a pained look and he touched her face gently. "We sorted things out, Joker. Are things OK on the Normandy?"
"We're back in control," Joker said. "We're cooling things down and there aren't any-" There was indistinct yelling in the background of the Normandy. "Hey, Garrus?" Joker said, "Chakwas wants to know what the hell happened to Shepard. She is also telling me to take off-"
Shepard squeezed Garrus' hand and shook her head.
"Belay that order, Lieutenant," Garrus said, "Shepard… went for a swim and got some water down the wrong pipe. That's all. We have it sorted now."
"Must have been a lot of water…"
"It's sorted now," Garrus repeated.
"...you have been accused of lying… and called some rude names."
"Joker," Shepard said, her voice a little hoarse. She winced as her breath sent a flare of pain through her fractured clavicle but pushed on. "Your orders are to continue your remaining days of shore leave and then assist with rebuilding. Things are fine and I don't want to have to repeat myself."
"She's saying it, not me!" Shepard heard Joker saying to Chakwas. Then he addressed the Commander again. "Aye, aye, Ma'am… be careful."
"Will do, Joker," Shepard said weakly. She stared up at Garrus. "Since the Normandy's half turian, can I make them start calling me 'Sir'?"
Garrus snorted and smiled down at her, pushing a few pesky locks of wet hair back from her face. "You can do whatever you want." He was quiet for a moment, listening to the gentle roar of the water, but eventually asked. "What was it this time?"
Shepard's face clenched. "Dream," she said, "bad one. Weird one… and… I think I could feel Echo…"
"What?"
"Yeah."
"How? Rannoch is systems away?"
"I don't know."
"Did it follow us here?"
"I don't know."
"Can you even contact it without a physical link?"
"I don't know, Garrus!" Shepard snapped, then winced in pain.
"Dammit, Shepard," Garrus said. "I'm sorry. I just… I don't like this shit."
"Yeah," Shepard said, "and I think it's a picnic."
He frowned down at her. "What makes you think it was Echo and not just a dream?"
Shepard frowned, "I don't know… I just… it's just a feeling… that and I kept hearing voices… saying things I've heard before. That's how Echo communicates… it strings my own memories together or shares its own. I just don't get what it was saying."
Pounding footsteps and voices came spilling from the doorway to the large chamber they were in.
"I know who she is and what she's done. You can stop threatening to feed me to the krogan representative when they arrive, I'm not going to say anything to the Admiral," said a slightly high pitched, quick voice. Atala emerged from the doorway with a salarian in tow. The salarian brushed past Atala and came to crouch at Shepard's side, tapping open an omni tool with a highly specialized display.
"Commander," the salarian said, "it's a pleasure. I'm Dr. Elsten of the Helos Institute, and apparently I'm going to be your physician this…." she looked at the onmitool's display for a moment, "ah, morning," she finished. She looked Shepard over. "Ok, so we will take preventative measures for hypothermia, pulmonary edema and mend the broken bone. Shouldn't be an issue… this is all very, very below my paygrade."
Garrus gave his sister a long look. "You had to get the Helos doctor?"
Atala scowled at him. "You wanna Join with someone who can't deal with the kickback from a gun because you were too cheap and impatient to hire the nearest doctor and the bone healed incorrectly?"
"No," Shepard groaned, "no, he does not. I would like to still be able to fire a gun, please!"
/./././././././
Castis' mouth was moving but Shepard wasn't taking in any of the things he was saying. She blinked and shook her head slightly, trying to clear it, and a twinge of pain ran through her newly healed collarbone. She felt like shit and was trying to hide it.
She was exhausted after last night. Garrus had explained to Atala about Shepard's post-Crucible-episodes, and with a series of severe threats, swore her to secrecy. Atala had agreed without protest, and from the way that she watched as Garrus carefully set Shepard back in their bed, after having her sit in a very hot bath for half an hour under Dr. Elsten's orders, Shepard had a feeling that Atala's dreams were not exactly peaceful either.
Shepard was mortified that her uncontrolled biotics had not only left her severely bruised, but that she had actually broken her own collarbone. The fact made her incredibly grateful that the blast had harmed her and not Garrus. She had beseeched Atala to find him another room where he could sleep. Atala had begun to make a comforting statement, but Garrus silenced both of them with a glare. Samara could not arrive fast enough.
Shepard did her best to conceal a yawn and tried again to pay attention to what Castis was saying. Garrus and Atala watched her from across the table looking equally exhausted. She found it particularly frustrating that she was trying to hide her bad night from Castis when he had actually admitted to her that his sleep was disturbed by the war.
"...considering your argument for a synthetic seat, I have one problem in particular with your reasoning. I want to discuss it with you before you go to the Primarch." Castis said. "I believe you intend well, but I value my relationship with the Primarch highly and will not risk making him feel I have wasted his time."
No, duh Shepard thought. "Of course," she said mildly, "what is your concern?"
"Despite the long history we all have with the Geth, adjusting our relationship with them is likely less of a struggle. Especially since the quarians have already made so many drastic changes. The Reapers-
Garrus and Shepard were both about to open their mouths, but before they could, Atala said softly, "the Ascendant." She held her father's gaze. "No more cheap challenges, Dad, you're better than that. Clan Vakarian is supporting their request."
Castis' eyes were very cold for a moment, his jaw tight. "The Ascendant," he continued, "are a different story, however. We have no way of knowing if they have really changed, if they can be trusted to coexist and cooperate peacefully, that they won't begin to slaughter us again. We don't have any way to know if they are living beings the way that organics are, or just shrewd impressions-"
"Except for me," interrupted Shepard. She rubbed her head. It had been aching for hours. She hadn't had this bad a headache since the first time she had communicated with Echo. It made her almost positive that the Ascendant had somehow managed to connect with her again. She didn't want to think about that though. It raised far too many questions that she had no way of answering and opened a lot of scary doors. She focused on Castis again. "We have nothing except for the fact that I communicated with the Catalyst, that I made sure that it was eliminated and that the Ascendant became sentient, that I have communicated with them, and that's why I know this is how we keep the peace. Not to mention the fact that the last time I told all the races that we need to do something, and I was ignored, we all almost died," she spat.
Castis sighed. "Yes. Except for that."
Shepard took a long breath. "There shouldn't need to be anything more."
"I need more, Commander," Castis said. "I can't go to the Primarch with nothing but the word of one human."
"The human," growled Garrus, "is the one person who saved us all."
"Yes," sighed Castis, "but the only other organics who were on the Citadel were Captain Anderson and the Illusive Man, and they are both dead. Shepard communicated with the Catalyst alone, she spoke with the Leviathan alone, only she was able to access the Prothean beacons. There's no proof we can share."
"Except for the fact that I was right about the Reapers."
"And now you want everyone to welcome them into our systems peacefully! We can't ask people to do that based on some visions only you saw."
Shepard heard the snarl of another skeptical turian in her mind, "are we allowing dreams as evidence now?" She was beginning to wonder if communicating with Echo was permanently altering her brain. She seemed to hear haunting voices all the time now. Was that part of PTSD?
"The Geth can communicate with them too," Shepard said.
"Yes, but the Geth were controlled by the Reapers in the past," said Castis.
"Then Javik and Liara T'Soni can provide testimony to the Council," said Garrus. "They have been working together and have been able to communicate with them in their own way."
Atala bit her lip and Castis shook his head, "T'Soni's mother was also controlled by the Reapers. That is going to negate her credibility."
"The Reapers controlled individuals of every race," Shepard said. "Most notably, the Council's turian Spectre. You know," she added, her words dripping with ire, "the people the Council appoint to work outside their authority because they are trusted to do the right thing on their own."
"Exactly," said Castis, "but a Spectre was also controlled by them, so it undermines your credibility as well, Shepard."
"How about they should listen to me, or they can find someone else to save their asses the next time their lives are on the line," Shepard snapped. Dammit, her head was killing her.
"I'm not trying to fight you, Commander," Castis said. Garrus snorted and Castis repeated, "I'm not." Garrus looked unconvinced. "I'm trying to prepare you. You can't just tell people what needs to be done and expect them to do it. You need evidence; things need to be double checked and vetted."
"This is exactly why I left C-Sec," Garrus mumbled. Atala sniggered and his father shot him a disapproving look.
"The Prothean's testimony might be worth a try. It's pretty hard for the Council to deny that there are things they don't understand when they're staring at a member of an extinct race."
"Yeah," Garrus said, "but if you think that Javik is going to play nice and politely ask the Council for help you have another thing coming. In his eyes, we are still primitive, under-evolved, and I'm starting to think he's right."
"The Council might actually benefit from someone being frank with them rather than ass-kissing," said Castis. Shepard opened her mouth and he added, "if it comes from the right person and someone outside of their prejudices."
I could have just let them all die. Shepard thought. The Council… lots of other people. But no, I had to go and save them all so they could continue to not listen.
Castis sighed. "It's just particularly difficult because of the Ascendant's history."
"They were just tools," Shepard said. "They had no control. The program that controlled them is gone. There is nothing of it left. It's no different from changing the operations or software of a computer."
"Our computers don't usually kill people," said Castis. "And the few that have, are part of why this is so difficult, and why there have been so many regulations on artificial intelligence. From what you have shared with me, the past cycles have seen an equally violent history of AI attacking organics."
"They are all just trying to survive," Shepard said, "which is why they need a voice." She rubbed her forehead again, "and the forms the Ascendant take... they were just a weapon, a thing to be controlled. Like a rocket or a ship or a gun. You don't blame a gun for shooting someone, you blame who was holding it. You can't remain bent out of shape about something that is just a tool."
"Yes you can," said a cold voice by the door.
Castis startled slightly; Atala had gone deadly still. Shepard and Garrus turned to see Admiral Rafia in the doorway, supporting herself by hanging onto the frame. A blanket was tumbling from her shoulders and her face was livid.
"You absolutely can." she said, eyes on Shepard. "You've forgotten your own species' history. You created a weapon using nuclear power, and then a few complications and accidents cowed your populace despite offering a clean form of energy." Her eyes were burning. "Humans have proved that a tool can be feared." She tilted her head, "tools can be hated, too." She pushed off the doorframe and stumbled towards the table.
Dr. Elsten was in the doorway behind her. "Admiral Vakarian, I really must insist-"
"Mom, what are you-" started Atala.
"Shut up." Rafia snapped, her voice ringing off the walls of the dining room. She stumbled. Castis tried to catch her but she shoved him away. Teeth gritted with effort, she reached the edge of the table. She stuck a hand under the blanket wrapped around her and tossed something onto the table.
The gun slid across the table, coming to a halt about a foot from Shepard's seat. Shepard stared at the gun. She recognized the make instantly. It was the kind of gun her grandfather had taught her to shoot within the orchard on his property in Oregon. She had studied its role in the development of Alliance munitions. She had seen it held in the hands of a statue of a soldier that stood as part of a First Contact War memorial.
Shepard and Rafia's eyes met, the piece of bloody history on the table between them. "You know that gun, don't you?" the Admiral hissed.
Shepard lifted her chin calmly. "Yes."
"So do I," Said Rafia. "It means something a little different to me than you. Just like your precious Reapers do now." The others in the room were frozen, watching the Admiral and the Commander carefully. "To you and your selfish, blundering little species, that is just a tool. A tool that was used in a war you don't remember. A tool that you could pick up and use yourself. But to me," she bared her teeth at Shepard, "To me and my people, my people who actually understand our place in the galaxy, that is the thing that shot my father. The thing that shot my mother as she ensured the escape pods with the rest of our wounded could launch safely."
Atala was frowning, staring at the gun on the table, her eyes shining. "How… how did you get it?" She whispered.
Rafia's eyes never left Shepard's. "I took it from the human's body after I tore out her throat with my talons."
Shepard felt pinned to the spot by the Admiral's gaze. "Humans are young." Rafia continued. "You are forgetful, but the rest of us are not." She rounded on Castis now. "You cannot humor this thing. If the Reapers are a tool they can be picked up and used by anyone. Our only options are to destroy them..." She leaned on the table, using it to support herself as she moved towards the gun. Garrus looked distressed. He picked up the gun and passed it to her to prevent her from struggling further. She snatchd it back without looking at him and slipped it back beneath the blanket, continuing "...or keep them where we can see them and be ready."
The salarian stepped forward and took Rafia by the arm, supporting her and trying to lead her from the room, but Rafia looked back at Atala. "And if you're half the clan leader you think you are, you'll keep your pistol on you and be ready for that Cerberus thing to turn on us."
Atala's eyes widened and Garrus exploded from his chair.
"You know, Cerberus won that day." Shepard called from the other end of the table. The others froze at her words. Her heartbeat and breath were slow, calm, deadly. "You must have let them win if you're so easily blinded by my interaction with them, and if you can't see that I'm here to help." The two females stood rooted, staring at one another. Shepard continued "It makes you a weak leader. You dishonor your clan and the family you lost."
All the cold and rage of the universe seemed to look back at Shepard from Rafia's eyes. "You're right." She said with a deadly whisper. "I led the assault on the slaughterhouse that Cerberus called a lab. I ended the lives of my broken people one by one and told each of their families of their loss." Shepard couldn't breathe. No one in the room seemed to be able to move. The words echoed slightly in the dining hall like the whispered chorus of the dead. "But then I found the room labeled 'Vakarian', opened the door, and the abomination that had been my sister launched itself at me. It wasn't until I killed my little sister with my bare hands that Cerberus won." Silent tears were streaming down Atala's face. Garrus' eyes were full of horror and Castis' face was blank. But Rafia's eyes still burned. "But I am not blind. And your people will not harm my family again."
And Rafia collapsed, hitting the stone floor hard, the strain of dragging herself here, of standing for so long clearly too much for the sick turian.
"Mom!" Garrus said, frantically bolting to her side. Dr. Elsten had her omnitool out in a flash, scanning Rafia.
"It's fine." Rafia wheezed. "Leave me-"
"Mom, we have to get you back to bed."
"Don't-"
Garrus reached to pick up his mother and carry her back to her room. "It's ok Mom, I got you-"
"Don't you touch me."
Garrus froze.
Rafia was still breathing hard, her deep blue eyes lined with silver. "Don't you touch me." She wheezed. "Not when you dishonor her memory by sharing that human's bed."
/./././././././././././.
"How could you not have told us?' Garrus had seethed a few minutes after his mother had disappeared back into the west wing.
"It was your mother's decision and your mother's right." said Castis.
"But you, the two of you told us Aunt Atalanta's ship blew an engine and the Vakarian captain was just a cousin! Why… why did you lie?"
"She had her reasons," Castis repeated.
Their voices had echoed up the stairs from the dining hall; Garrus' frustration unbridled due to the knowledge that the Helos doctor had given his mother a sedative, as well as her next dose of treatments. Shepard numbly walked back to her and Garrus' room.
"You don't understand!" Garrus said. Shepard heard a loud bang that sounded like something being kicked. "I… if I'd known Atalanta… that Mom had led the attack… I... I would have acted differently… I never would have…"
"Worked with Cerberus?"
The main floor was silent.
"I wouldn't have pushed her to change." Garrus said softly.
Castis snorted. "Oh, so you need all the information you deem necessary before you can respect your mother's grief."
"No-"
"You know what one of the greatest difficulties of being a parent is, Garrus? You want to protect your children from what's out there in the world, the things that snuck past you and got under your guard, but they won't listen. And you hide your scars from them so they sleep soundly thinking you are strong and that out there things aren't so bad… and sometimes they won't even listen after you show your scars." The tension in that silence was worse than the yelling. Shepard wondered if Atala could hear this. The female had dashed to Rafia, scooped her easily into her arms and carried her from the dining room without a word. Shepard could not imagine what must be going through her head after hearing what had really happened to her namesake. She heard Castis, his voice full of exhaustion, "can you imagine telling your child that you had to kill your little sister?"
/././././././././././././././././
The cool mountain wind tossed Shepard's hair as she and Garrus walked along the streets of Venatura. A path from the Vakarian home wound down the mountain till it met with the heart of the city. They were quiet, and Shepard was deeply grateful for that after the war zone the house had become. She cast her mind for something, anything they could talk about to keep the haunting thoughts from occupying her mind.
"Why doesn't your mother have Vakarian tattoos?" she asked, eyeing Garrus. "I thought she and your father were both Vakarian."
"She used to. I've seen them in photos and family vids." Garrus said, his face suggesting that his mind was far away. "She had the same clan variation as Atala and I - the exact pattern is passed through the maternal line unless you add something to it to mark a very significant event in your life. Dad told me once that's why Primarch Victus and Lieutenant Tarquin had the same ones. Victus took his wife's when she passed away to honor her memory." He was quiet for a moment. "Mom had hers removed after Aunt Atalanta's death. Dad said it was because she felt she'd failed her clan." Shepard felt horrible thinking of the words she'd said to the barefaced turian. "Being without clan tattoos…" Garrus continued. "It's a mark of shame, a way our society marks the unwanted. If you commit certain crimes they're removed as part of the punishment. If someone breaks rank and is ostracized from the clan they'll be removed as well. Dad said she wanted to leave the clan because she couldn't bear what she had done, but there was no one else to lead it. Dad was just C-Sec, any other family members with military experience were either injured or dead… so she got rid of her tattoos and did the job that needed to be done."
They were getting into the heart of Venatura now, passing others on the street who eyed her curiously and nodded or waved to Garrus in greeting. There were children here too, like on Rannoch, though the turian children walked across the street in a very dignified manner. However, Shepard could hear explosions of laughter and excited shouting as she and Garrus passed gardens and alleyways.
"She got a reputation for being ruthless and effective and she got appointed to some pretty high posts when Atala and I were still very young." Garrus continued. "But she couldn't keep working in that way after the accident. Atala's always thought someone put a hit out on her."
"What?"
"The accident was a little strange. She was hit by a skycar that went out of control and was flying way too low, but nobody was able to track down the car or pilot." He gave her a look. "Not even Dad."
"Does that bother him?"
"Oh sure." Garrus said with a snort. "But there's no evidence to go on and mom survived… if you can call being this sick "surviving"... so "protocol" dictates there's nothing more to investigate."
"I would think that Atala's not satisfied with that."
Garrus chuckled. "Not exactly. She sits Dad and I down to go over her latest conspiracy every six years or so." She watched from the corner of her eye as the warmth in his depression faded: shadows seeming to fill his eyes once again.
"My comment…"his eyes shifted to hers, "saying she dishonored her clan…" Even in the bright sun, the ghost of that look Rafia had given Shepard haunted her. She could see touches Rafia's features in Garrus' now: in the line of his brow and jaw, and the streaks of deeper blue in his eyes. Eyes she couldn't meet right now. "It was...a bad call. I had no idea-" She heard him let out a long breath through his nose and glanced over, seeing the tightness of his jaw. His eyes met hers and she resisted the urge to shrink away from those darker streaks of blue. They slowed and stopped in the street, other pedestrians walking by, glancing back in interest. "I'm...I could have picked a better tactic." She said quietly. Garrus raised a brow. "You know….de-escalated things," she added.
"Yeah, cuz you're so good at that," Garrus said, a flicker of mirth in his eyes.
Shepard let out a deep breath. "I still can't believe you thought it was a good idea to bring me here."
"In my defense," he said dryly, "you cause so much trouble most of the time I didn't think there would be a large enough piece of you left to bring home to show anyone." She elbowed him and he just laughed.
They stepped into the shadows of a large silver building. The walls were carved with huge turian faces that Shepard could see had been artfully arranged so that the horns and edges of their proud heads perfectly replicated the mountain range behind them. Garrus stepped up to a keypad at the door and tapped in a command, then they hissed open and Shepard followed him into the shadows.
Two officers saluted them as they passed, and Garrus led them through the sweeping and elegantly constructed state building. It was clearly younger than the Vakarian home or the opera house where she had first met with Castis, but was still appointed with statues and other commemorations of the turians' proud military history. After a few minutes they entered the temporary offices of the Primarch.
An officer at a large desk looked up as the doors slid closed behind Shepard and Garrus. "Ah, General Vakarian, Commander Shepard. Welcome," he said airily. "I am Lieutenant Angius, Deputy to the Primarch." He frowned slightly. "You're late."
Garrus frowned right back. "Our appointment with the Primarch was scheduled for three. It's only a quarter till."
Lieutenant Angius scoffed, "One should always arrive half an hour early when meeting with such an exalted office as ours to best accommodate the needs of the state." Garrus' lip tightened. "The Primarch's previous appointment ended ten minutes ago."
"Then I'm sure he enjoyed a well deserved break." Shepard said.
"No." said the Lieutenant with a frown. "He was cost precious time later in his day that could have been spent on matters vital to Palaven. In any case," he said, striding to a door on his left, "I will let him know you have arrived and are ready to see him, Commander Shepard."
"We're ready whenever he is," Garrus said.
Angius paused by the door, checking something on his omnitool. "The Primarch has only extended an invitation to the Commander," he said. "You, General Vakarian, are not part of this meeting."
"What?" Shepard snapped.
"The Primarch wished to meet with the Commander alone." he repeated and disappeared though the door.
"It's turians like him that make people say we all have a stick up our ass." Garrus said, glaring at the doorway. He saw the frown on Shepard's face. "Chin up, Shepard." He frowned. "That's the right human phrase, right?"
Shepard nodded.
"You remember what I told you about Victus before you met him? Gets results, gets along with his troops, not so popular with military command because he plays loose with accepted strategy." He cocked his head to the side, looking at her. "Sound like someone we know?"
Shepard shifted uncomfortably.
"Neither of you asked for this kind of responsibility, but both have borne it honorably." His eyes met hers. "And you'll do whatever it takes to get the job done. You're not so different; you have nothing to worry about in there."
The door opened and Angius stepped out, his back impossibly straight. "The Primarch will see you now."
/././././././././.
The Primarch of Palaven stood staring out a set of huge windows that faced the snowy caps of the Aroloupes. The two had met many times before, but as Shepard entered the room she felt like she was stepping into unknown, enemy territory. It was like something clawed at the shadows of her mind: something she could not yet understand.
They had worn armor when they first met, but now both stood in turian robes, Shepard having selected a set with the highest collar she could find from the new options Atala had procured for her. Today neither bore a weapon and the galaxy was at peace. In the silence, Shepard wondered if the turian who said that war was in his blood felt as lost in this new world as she did.
"You know I used to bring my son here to hunt." The Primarch said eventually, his deep voice echoing in the large room. "I'd take a few weeks of leave in the summer months and we'd spend the long days in the shadows of those trees."
"I'm sure he learned much from you on those trips." Shepard said softly.
Victus laughed quietly. "Just what a bad shot I was after a few drinks." He turned to face Shepard, his robes flowing soundlessly against the floor. "I can't say that I'm pleased to see you, Commander." He took a few steps forward and tapped something on the display of his desk. He looked up to her. "I've never been particularly spiritual, but I started praying yesterday after Castis asked me to meet with you. It's nothing personal, Commander, but you seem to bring misfortune with you whenever we meet."
It was she that told the General that he had to leave his men and bear the weight of being Primarch; she, that had told him his son had sacrificed himself for the success of his mission.
"He died with the respect of his men…" Victus had said as he'd prepared to leave the ship. "Something any father would be proud of." Shepard had always thought there was something hollow to those words, and now, standing here on Victus' slowly healing homeworld gazing into the concealed pain in his eyes, she knew she'd been right.
"Do you get dreams now, Commander?" Victus asked suddenly.
Shepard shifted. "Yes, sir."
"You'd done your fair share of service before the attack," he said, searching her face. "Did you get them before the Reaper War?"
"No."
"Me neither." He shook his head. "You'd think I'd dream about them landing. About watching Palaven burn from afar. About Tarquin." His eyes met hers. "But all I dream about is you."
Shepard frowned.
Victus stared into the distance, speaking softly. "I'm on Menae or in the Normandy's war room and I hear thunder… then I can see the light gleaming off your hair… and I feel dread." He ran a hand across his tattooed face. "So forgive me if you're the last thing I'd want to see today."
There was resignation in his eyes. A fatigue that she recognized. She'd seen it in his son's eyes as they argued on Tuchanka, as the young turian's spirit strained with the great burden he carried and the enormous task ahead of him. "My men have lost hope, Commander. Even if I wanted to finish the mission, they don't."
"It's your job to make them want to," she'd told him. It had been her job, too. To make the whole galaxy take that next step. To convince them that the fight was worth laying down their lives, as she'd convinced Tarquin it was.
"I understand, sir." she said quietly. "I think everyone's felt that way about me since I touched the beacon on Eden Prime. I appreciate you being frank enough to say it."
He gave her a slight smile. "I'm not a politician," he said. "Neither are you."
"You got that right." Shepard sighed.
Victus chuckled, then added seriously, "I made a mistake not trusting you once, and it may have cost me my son. I'm not doing that again." He crossed to his desk. "You want a drink?"
"Yes." Shepard said flatly.
Victus smiled and nodded to the chair on the far side of his desk. "Then have a seat." Shepard dropped into the chair and Victus poured her something dark and fragrant.
"You're in turian robes and Chief Vakarian is calling on your behalf so I presume you don't need an antihistamine?" he said, giving her a knowing look.
"You presume correctly," she said.
"A human in the Vakarian residence," he said with a raised brow. "Never thought I'd see the day… How are you holding up?"
She took a sip of the drink. It was strong -the kind of thing she needed after this morning. "I'm not sure it's a good political move to answer that question."
Victus looked at her over his glass. "Screw politics. There are no politics here. Just two soldiers who need a damn drink."
Shepard shrugged. "I think I'd rather be on Tuchanka going a few rounds with a Thresher Maw."
Victus chuckled. "No wonder Urdnot Wrex likes you. But honestly I'd probably be thinking the same thing." He gave her a long look, his sharp eyes taking in the silver strands that covered her body.
"You look different than you did on the Normandy," he said.
"You look more tired than you did on the Normandy," Shepard countered.
He raised a brow. "I am more tired."
"And I'm different," she said.
"Is that something I have to worry about?" he asked frankly.
"Not unless I get pissed off."
He grunted. "Fair enough. Just get pissed off somewhere far from the cities we've rebuilt."
She gave him a long look. "So Chief Vakarian told you more than why I'm here."
"Chief Vakarian did his job," Victus corrected. "But I hear you have a soft spot for turians so I'm not worried. Besides, I respect you enough… and owe you enough to not push it."
"I appreciate that."
Victus finished his drink and poured another. "So you want the Reapers to be called the 'Ascendant' and you want a seat for the synthetics on the Council…." he said with a weary sigh.
"No," Shepard said lightly, "the Ascendent would like to not carry the names of the things that destroyed and enslaved them, and the sentient synthetic lifeforms would like a voice on the Council. I think these sound like reasonable requests that would prevent me from having to save everyone's ass again."
"And I think you're right."
Shepard blinked. She had expected this meeting to go a lot of ways, but she honestly had not expected it to go like this at all. "You do?" she said, unable to keep the surprise from her voice.
"Yes," he said, his lip twitching. "Working with synthetics and giving them a vested interest in the Council is a good tactical move. Makes it a little harder for them to go to war with us if they aren't such a separate entity. Helps keep people alive." He looked at Shepard. "Not that I'm ever going to forgive you for the headache it's going to cause."
"I can live with that," Shepard said.
"Re-naming the Reapers… it makes its own sense. They didn't retreat once during the war. Neither did the Marauders or any other piece of hell they threw at us. They always had the jump on us, but even when we started to gain in an area, they just pushed on till we fell or they did." He gazed darkly into his drink. "It's what spread fear through every species' line of defense. What the hell were we supposed to do against something that was so much bigger, didn't seem to feel its losses, and threw ours back at us to fight all over again? But the minute the Crucible fired they started behaving like they never had before. They fled. Anyone who can't see that's clear evidence that something is different is a damn fool. My reports say they're still fleeing. They're easily taken down now-"
"You have to stop that." Shepard said.
Victus' jaw tightened a little.
"We have to stop hunting them down. You're chasing down ancient races we don't understand that suffered just as much as we did." She put her glass down. "More than we did."
"Now that's easier said than done. Communication lines are still pretty fractured."
"But if it keeps happening we're just asking for another war with something else we don't understand." She gave him a hard look. "I've seen Prometra. Palaven can't take that. None of our people or militaries can. Keeping peace at all costs is the only military option we have right now."
He studied her. "You're better at the politics thing than you think you are."
"I just want to keep people alive."
"Any time people talk about what things will be like after "the war," whatever war it may be, they make it sound like it will be such a different time," he said with a sigh. "But when it comes to the big stuff it's not so different, is it?"
"No." Shepard said softly. "Except people actually listen to what I'm yelling at them, if there's a war."
"You don't have to yell at me, Commander." Victus said with a nod. "I'll take this to Councilor Sparatus, bareface hack that he is, and push him to put it before the Council this week. But just like in the war, I'm going to need you to do something for me."
Shepard gave him a long look. "So it's gotta be like that?" She sighed. "And what exactly do you want me to do?"
Victus grinned. "I want you to speak at the summit later this week. I have a feeling I'm going to need you to do some yelling for me."
"And what exactly am I going to be yelling about?"
"The Council and a few of the other Primarchs are meeting to discuss what is to become of the Reapers' foot soldiers now that the war is over. And I think some Shepard style diplomacy would come in handy."
"And why can't you yell at them?" She said, squinting.
"Because my damn predecessor got himself killed and now I'm stuck with this lousy job, and Primarchs aren't supposed to yell at people."
"We're not actually at war anymore. You could resign." She offered with a shrug.
Victus laughed darkly. "Turians don't retreat." Shepard snorted. "And besides," he said, giving her a long look, "would you trust someone else to keep us from being at war?"
Moria ran a hand through her hair. "Why do you think I'm here?"
"Exactly." Something strange crossed his face. "Who is your C.O. Shepard?"
It was difficult to say. "Admiral Hackett, sir."
He frowned slightly. "I know Hackett from the Relay 314 incident. You don't strike me as his man."
"Captain David Anderson was my C.O. till the battle at Earth." Shepard said.
"Anderson." Victus said. "Now, that makes sense."
Shepard cocked her head at the Primarch. "You knew him?"
"I did. But that's a story that needs a drink and I'm at my limit for the day." Victus stood up. "I'll have a briefing on the summit sent to the Vakarians and Castis can get you up to speed on the situation. Hell, bringing Garrus along as well might not be a bad idea either."
Shepard stood and nodded to the Primarch. "Thank you for meeting with me, sir."
He smiled slightly. "Wasn't quite as bad this time."
Shepard was about to touch the command panel on the door and exit the room when Victus called, "Shepard."
She turned to him. He was staring out the window again. "Do you ever get the feeling it's not over?" he said. She could see the bright lines of his white tattoo reflected in the glass, making it look as if he was looming over the mountains: watching. "That something's coming?"
Shepard's chest felt tight. She must flee, she must escape.
