Chapter Sixteen
Names in the Wind
Atala was silent as she flew them from the dreadnought to the human embassy. Shepard was taking their being in Prometra as an opportunity to check in with her crew and pick up her Alliance dress uniform. She'd preferred wearing the turian robes or her armor each day, and her heart still beat a little faster when she thought of her uniform and the Not-Shepard clone that had worn them in her dreams. But if she was going to be speaking at the summit in a few days with the human Council member there she would have to be representing the Alliance. Besides… her wearing turian robes at that kind of meeting would make a very strong political suggestion about her loyalties, and the Council was pigheaded enough on a regular basis. She didn't want to give them any more room for prejudice.
Back on the dreadnought, Roki had worked to calm Kiathi's screams. After a few minutes Tavor returned with a very confused and irritated looking turian medical team. They had demanded to know what the hell was going on and Atala had ordered them to immediately begin caring for the purple tattooed marauder and get her to the medical unit. The Admiralty medical team had looked at her with disdain and one had sneered, "Are you serious?" At that point Garrus had stepped in and explained in a low voice and graphic detail exactly how serious they were. They had sprung to action under General Vakarian's deadly gaze. Hecate had been carefully carried out of the room, Kiathi refusing to leave her side. Atala had barked orders at the rest of her team to find any other marauders or brutes with evidence of deterioration and get them to a sick bay as well, to keep them isolated from the others, and to get any medical personnel on the dreadnought (as well as half a dozen tech experts) focused on understanding how to stop the deterioration.
"Kabalim, sir," Roki said quietly, "With all due respect there are other patients on this ship as well and doctors already assigned to care for them." She hesitated for a minute then asked carefully. "How would you like us to proceed if a doctor says they cannot leave their patient?"
Atala gave her Second a long look. "Ask them how long the patient has to live. If it's more than three days then ask them to still come with you or drag their ass here."
Roki nodded. "Yes, sir."
Shepard had been impressed with Atala's new Second. She'd gotten Atala to reconsider an order that she clearly had thought was problematic without refusing to follow it or weaken Atala's position with the rest of her Cabal by asking if she was "sure." Shepard wished she'd had that degree of tact when she was younger and serving as a second in command in the Alliance.
They landed in the hangar of the embassy and Atala opened the doors of her ship. "I'll be here when you're ready." She said quietly, not looking at them.
"You can't wait here." Garrus said lightly. "Shepherd's going to take ages because she is awful at deciding what to wear and is a control freak who will probably spend two hours interrogating her crew to make sure they didn't break something. Come to the bar with me and get a drink while she fusses over her people.
"I do not fuss." Shepard snapped, crossing her arms.
"You fuss." Garrus said, looking back to Atala.
"No thanks." Atala said. "It's not exactly a one drink night."
"Fine." Garrus said. "Come with me, have as many drinks as you want, and Shepard or I can fly us home."
"Neither of you knows how to fly this."
"You heard enough from our pilot over the comms to know that's not an issue. I can just stomp on Shepard's toes and her biotics and the strands will freak out and then she can use them to fly us home." His voice was casual, but he was watching his sister intently. "Just please don't make me go to the bar on my own. You know I'm too good looking to not get hit on and I don't want to clean up the bodies when Shepard is finished tearing anyone who tried to speak to me to pieces."
"No thanks." Atala repeated.
"Actually." Shepard said. "Despite the lovely remarks that have been made about me here, I need both of your sorry asses to join me on the Normandy." Atala and Garrus looked at her in deep confusion.
"I thought I wasn't supposed to go anywhere near your ship." Atala said.
"Uninvited." Sheapard corrected. "This thing that I'm doing right now, however, is an invitation."
Garrus gave her a questioning look but Atala agreed to follow her.
They moved to the hangar bay where the Normandy was docked and entered the ship, EDI meeting them just inside as they did. "Welcome back, Commander." EDI said. "I have the items you requested." She passed Shepard a box that she had been holding and Shepard thanked the AI with a nod.
"Everything ok here?"
"Yes Commander. We finish our shore leave period tomorrow evening and will then begin assisting the embassy."
"Nothing's caught fire?"
"The engines were getting very warm the other evening-"
"No thanks to you!" Joker shouted from the bridge around the corner.
Shepard scowled but EDI continued, "But all systems are still operational and there was no damage to the ship."
"Thank you, EDI," Shepard said pointedly and loudly enough to carry to the bridge, "For your assessment."
"Thank you EDI for sugar coating my almost burning the embassy down." Joker mocked.
"You know, Joker," Shepard said. "With all your mouthing off I haven't had a chance to inform you that I have a certain turian guest with me who never got to shoot you the other day. Do you want me to send her your way? I'm sure she would love to hear some of the interspecies jokes that you and Garrus have shared."
"...thank you for the invitation, Ma'am but I have quite a bit of work I should be getting back to."
"Shame." Shepard said, grinning at Atala. "Well another time perhaps." But Atala did not return her smile. The turian stood at polite attention, but it was clear from her face that her thoughts were elsewhere.
Shepard led Garrus and Atala deeper into the ship till they reached a stretch of wall that gleamed with plaques that were far too numerous and bore precious names. Garrus stiffened when Shepard stopped in front of the wall. Atala's eyes drifted over the names. Shepard stood just before the two turians, staring at the names of the lost for a moment.
"This is what we do..." She said softly, her eyes moving from one name to then next. Kaidan Alenko. Mordin Solus. Legion. "When we lose people... We walk by their names every day so that we remember that they still fly and fight at our sides. They remind us that they gave their lives so that our mission could succeed, and we must honor them each day by ensuring that sacrifice was not in vain." She walked towards the wall and ran a finger across Mordin's name. Spirits how she wished he was here. Not so he could help her understand what the strands across her skin were, but because he might have understood what was happening to the marauders and brutes and likely would have delighted in the challenge of a race against time to find ways to delay their deterioration. "It used to just be human names." She said softly. Her gaze made its way across the wall again. Thane Krios. "But this war and this ship brought species from across the galaxy to fight for the same cause." She ran a hand across Legion's name. "It brought all forms of life together to fight for one cause. And so here we proudly remember all who gave their lives so that any life might have a chance."
Crew were gathering in the three walkways that led to where the memorial stood. They watched with silent reverence, appearing from the shadows one at a time. Shepard turned to look to Atala, her voice still quiet. This was not a place for ringing speeches to the living. This was a place to listen to the whispers of the dead and the wisdom they still had to share. "Today I learned that names are missing from our wall." She opened the box to reveal fourteen plaques inscribed with names. "And I would like you to help me rectify that."
Atala's eyes were lined with silver. "But they weren't your crew." She said softly.
"This war made us all one crew." Shepard's eyes met Garrus' and he gave her a small nod.
With a ragged breath Atala stepped forward and pulled a name from the box, took a few steps forward and placed it on the wall. Shepard continued to hold the box for her as the turian Kabalim slowly added the names of her fallen comrades, their fallen comrades, to the wall. The silently watching crowd had grown further, some faces gleaming with streaks of tears. Some of her crew held others. Vega's gruff face was wet with tears, and EDI stood supporting Joker who looked surprisingly heartbroken as he watched the female who had held him at gunpoint mourn her dead.
Atala never faltered. She placed each name with equal reverie, the slight silver gleam at the edge of her eyes neither spilling nor fadeing. She pulled the last name from the box and began crossing to the wall, but Shepard stopped her with a hand gently. "Don't mourn too soon." Shepard said. Atala's fingers clenched around the plaque that read Hecate Vedeta. Atala stood clutching that plaque for a long while, staring at the names of the dead, Garrus and Shepard on either side of her. The rest of the Normandy's crew slowly drifted away. Shepard found herself staring at Anderson's name. She wished she was on Rannoch. Wished she could walk out into the night and find Echo and connect with the Ascendent. Taxing as it was, right now she'd gladly hold the connection for hours if it meant hearing his voice again. Joker and EDI eventually began walking down the hall towards Joker's quarters, the last of the Normandy's crew leaving the Vakarian family to their grief.
/./././././././././././././././././
The flight back to Venatura had been quiet. Shepard was exhausted and had ended up leaning against Garrus, feeling his breath gently tickling her skin and his fingers drifting through her hair. Shepard was slowly furling and unfurling her fingers, causing the green light across the strands to come and go at her will.
It was dark when they landed and the trio had crossed the lawn together in exhausted silence before entering the ancient house. Shepard was about to follow Garrus upstairs and beg him to take her armor off her (a task he had gotten very good at) because she was so exhausted, when Atala said softly. "Can I show you something Commander." Garrus gave her a concerned look, and she saw his nostrils flare as he tested her scent, cheating with his heightened senses, to try to gauge how exhausted she was.
She scowled at him and said softly. "Of course."
She followed Atala to the back of the house to an old door that Shepard vaguely remembered Garrus carrying her through after her most recent bout of collarbone-breaking nightmares. They passed through the door and down a long spiraling staircase. However, rather than heading all the way to the bottom and the pool that Garrus had jumped into with her, they exited onto a landing about half way down and walked along a stone hallway. Shepard could make out silvery light in the distance and began to hear the soft hiss of water over stone. Eventually they stepped from the darkness into a pool of light from a skylight above.
Five small waterfalls ran down the walls around them, the waters dancing over the silvery stones seeming to be made of pure light in the brilliance of Venatrix above. The sands in the large pool had a silvery cast to them as well. The grain seemed to be incredibly fine and the water at the base of each fall was a turbulent silver mist with the churning waters and sands. A few low rocks sat at the sandy edge of the pool, the stones of the hallway floor merging seamlessly with the water formation.
At the base of the centermost fall was a small arched shrine that emerged from the waters. A stone figure stood beneath the arch, half submerged. It's rough-hewn head seemed to be very turian, the spread of its horns similar to Atala's own, but its body was more animalistic, like a lizard-lion sitting on its haunches. An intricate network of lines was carved across its form, the water running through these shallow groves painting its whole body in silver tattoos.
"This is where we mourn our dead." Atala said softly. Her voice barely audible over the quiet song of the waters. She slowly kneeled by the water, gazing into their depths. Shepard sat slowly beside her, staring at the statue.
"Does it represent your ancestors?"
"No." Atala said softly. "Its the talana, the guardian spirit of our dead." Atala let out a ragged breath. "When Hecate dies, her family will burn her body and her ashes will be poured into a river or pool like this one for the talana to watch over." She nodded to the swirling silver sands in the bottom of the pool. "The metals in our carapace and scales make our ashes reflect the light like that. The old stories say it shows that we were born from stardust in the great forges of the stars as living weapons to protect Palaven." Shepard could easily understand where such an idea had come from. The bright light of the full moon above brought out every gleaming contour of Atala's body making her look like an entity of living liquid silver, her Vakarian tattoos seeming to be the only earthly thing about her form.
"Was it difficult to connect with the marad- with Hecate?" Atala asked.
Shepard was quiet for a moment. "Yes."
"It costs you… I saw your nose bleeding afterwards. That's not a good sign in humans."
"No." Shepard said softly. "It's not."
"There are too many of them. It would be too difficult to connect to each of them to try to find out who they are."
"It would take me a very, very long time to try and do that." Shepard said gently.
"I tried." Atala's breath was ragged, her eyes still fixed on the pool. "The first week I tried to identify who they had been by searching for missing persons by clan tattoo but…" Her voice broke. "There are too many. And we'll never have a complete list of those we lost. So I stopped. They… they were so unturian it didn't seem to matter."
The chamber was quiet except for the gentle rush of the waters. It reminded Shepard of being on the Normandy and she felt strangely at home sitting there watching the submerged ashes dance like stars. Atala tore a medal from one of the pointed shoulder caps of her suit. She fiddled with it, staring at the piece of metal. It bore the shape of a highly stylized star, covered in lines that looked to Shepard like a clan tattoo. Below the star was a sweeping line as though it were resting in a bowl. The three fingered fist clenched around the medal, the pin that had held it to her uniform being driven deep into Atala's palm. She didn't flinch as blue blood ran from her clenched hand, the flexible plates of her knuckles turning white in the moonlight. Her fist slowly unclenched and Atala threw the medal into the pool leaving a trail of smokey blue blood in the waters, gleaming like a fallen star. It stirred a cloud of ashes as it landed at the bottom of the pool and vanished beneath. Atala tilted her head back, staring up at the face of Venatrix above. "I've been killing my people." She whispered.
./././././././././././././././././././././
The stone floors made no sound under Shepard's bare feet. She was angry at everything. She could vaguely tell that she was probably only angry because she was tired, but for the life of her she couldn't sleep, so that line of logic pissed her off even more. Every time she closed her eyes she saw twisted faces; husks, marauders, brutes, banshees, ravagers, every minion of the Reapers she'd ever faced. That she'd killed, that she'd slaughtered. Their faces had haunted her dreams for a while, but they usually sparked fear or panic, which at worst caused a strand and biotic-active nightmare, and at best made her get up and seek the medicines of the 'spirits' that could sometimes help her sleep. They had never brought remorse.
It wasn't that Shepard had felt guilty. Long ago she had come to terms with the fact that if someone was threatening her life, or her crew's life, that their life was forfeit. It had been more than a decade since her kills in action had haunted her. There were always some exceptions, some people she found on the other end of her gun, omniblade, or biotics, that she really wished hadn't been there. But you didn't stay alive in her line of work if you hesitated.
Choice. That was the problem. That was why she was angry and couldn't sleep. Anyone she had ever killed had a choice about how they got on the wrong side of her survival instinct. Even if someone was blackmailed or bullied or threatened into walking out in front of her with a weapon, they had made some had chosen that whatever was at stake was more important than Shepard's continued survival. Their dying wasn't necessarily personal, it was a difference of opinion. Nothing personal, just business. Just Shepard's bloody job.
But the Reapers fucked up the very balanced equation that usually let Shepard sleep fairly soundly. Because of them she had no choice, but to kill the things that had no choice themselves. And after being inside the marauder's mind today, the knowledge that they had no awareness of what was happening to them had left a ragged hole in her heart. Shepard still didn't take issue with her own choices, but she was extremely frustrated with how much time everything had taken. If she had been able to get the different races to work together faster, if they had built the Crucible sooner... If she had figured out another choice on the Crucible faster… If she had woken up from her coma sooner…. hadn't taken so long to be able to walk... if she had just sat down and asked the hard questions about what her choice on the Crucible might have done rather than setting off for Palaven to do something for joy, something to make Garrus happy, to make her happy... If she had gotten up and done her damn job, fewer victims would be dead, she wouldn't have watched a young turian keening at the sight of her dying sister, and wouldn't be haunted by the guilt in Atala's face.
She could see the things others couldn't. That had always been her gift; seeing a way to move through and change the landscape of a battle that others could not. It was her gift, and the fact that it made a difference was her curse.
There was blue light spilling from beneath a door. Lost in thought, she'd wandered to the part of the house where Atala's room was. She glanced around, half expecting to find Castis glaring at her from the shadows. But the hall was empty. She closed her eyes. She shouldn't, she should just keep walking. Or better yet, she should turn around, go back to her room and bury herself deep in Garrus' arms and hope sleep would find her there. But she didn't. She moved soundlessly to the door and just stood there for a moment. After today… she needed to remind herself what joy sounded like.
A voice full of life spilled from beneath the door. It contained such passion and vitality that Shepard had a hard time understanding how such a light could ever have been extinguished. "...and the leader of the Colaan was so displeased that she had lost her warriors to the cabathi's sting that she sailed to the stars and demanded the spirits to let her walk into the great forge. They warned with voices of the wind that none could return to the forge once they had walked on Palaven, that its fires were too strong and would melt away their memories of the world below, and they would remain forever in their flames. Aia Colaan threw back her head and laughed, telling the spirits that if they believed the memories of her precious dead and those she still guarded could be burned away by a little thing like starfire, then they themselves had no comprehension of the wonders they had forged. The spirits were angry, but allowed her to enter the forge, thinking her memories would fade in the blaze of starfire. But Aia walked in with her head held high so that the stars above could see the tattoos of her proud clan. She sang their songs as the fires raged and she became molten once again. To the spirits' surprise, she stepped from the forge and pulled upon the still-cooling metal of her back. She drew it like a cape up her neck and forged herself a collar to project the delicate vessels that carried her lifeblood. She sailed back to Palaven, picked up her spear and went hunting for the cabathi. And when it dropped from the trees and lashed its tail, the stinger broke against the collar guarding her neck and Aia's spear found its mark."
"She was also a total badass and took the stinger and used it to make a poisoned spear to fight the Bownthi, but I have a pile of paperwork to do so I'm gonna have to record that story another day. Anyway, she killed the cabathi and passed her collar to her children, and her children's children, and to their children, and our grandparents, and to your Mom, and to you, so that we all bear the armor forged from our people's loss. So stop crying, because I hear you are always crying. And go to sleep. You're safe from the cabathi and anything else in the shadows. Trust me, your Mom's the scariest thing in your damn house… hell, she's the scariest thing on Palaven, so you're safe as can be. Besides, cute as you are, she spent way too much time and energy forging you so she's not going to eat you like a Venatat would. Don't let her scold you for crying though, she did that plenty when we were kids, and we couldn't get your brother to go to sleep for the life of us." Laughter full of mirth spilled into the hall. "I know you both are just excited to play and learn to guard your family like we do, but there's plenty of time for that. Besides, your aim will suck if you don't sleep, trust me…"
Shepard crept away from the door and the sound of life, her mind on the turian male who had learned to sleep and wishing she had been able to as well.
/./././././././././././././././././././././.
Shepard walked to the end of the hallway before the silver column of water and the shrine. She crouched at the edge of the waters, staring into them, her face lost in the shadows. The waters of the falls sighed gently, ever so slightly stirring the silvery sands at the base. The rest of the pool was crystal clear, reflecting the stars that peaked through the skylight above. Venatrix had sailed on to some other part of Palaven's sky, leaving the stars with no rival.
She picked up a small stone at the edge of the pool and fiddled with it, rubbing her thumb across its smooth edge. She took a deep breath. "Hi." she said quietly. "I'm not good at this kind of thing... Sorry you got stuck with me." She swallowed and cleared her throat. "I heard a story that there's something in the waters here that guards the dead. So… maybe it can pass this on to you."
She stared at the waters for a long moment in silence and then continued. "I didn't know you were there long, and there was nothing I could do when I found out." She tilted her head back, staring up at the sky, the stars turning the strands across her skin to liquid silver. "I had to make a really hard choice... I'm sorry." She took a ragged breath. "There are people who would have loved you. Fiercely. You would have had one hell of an aunt." The space around the shrine brightened slightly as Menae slid into sight through the skylight. The moonlight made every little bit of sand swirling at the base of the falls gleam. "You come from trouble and bravery." She whispered. "And warriors like this galaxy has never seen before. I'm sorry you didn't get to know them… I'm sorry I didn't make sure you had more time…" Shepard clenched her hands around the stone, the strands across them glowing, turning the ever moving tattoos on the talana emerald in their light. "Anyway… I just wanted you to know… you would have been loved." Shepard bent her head, the light across her hands disappearing and then tossed the rock in her fingers into the water, sending ripples cascading across the surface. The stone sank to the bottom of the pool and disappeared into the sands with a swirl of silver.
Taloned feet shifted in the shadows of the doorway where they had been standing for some time and turned to head back up the stairs without a sound.
/././././././././././././././././././
"A date?" Shepard said incredulously.
"Yes, Shepard. A date." Garrus said, crossing his arms. "You know, that thing that people do when they're in love. Like we are?"
"I know what a date is." She said.
"You'd better. If shooting on the top of the presidium and spontaneous tangos haven't made an impact I'm going to be a very very unhappy turian boyfriend." He said with a smile full of wicked teeth.
"I just… like this week?"
"Like tonight."
"Don't we kind of have a lot going on with the summit in two days?" She asked, lying back on the bed and staring up at the ceiling in frustration. "We kind of have a lot of work ahead of us with convincing the council to care for the dying things the Reapers left behind, giving the Ascendent a new name, and you know, adding a new member from a group that they don't even think should exist as cognizant beings." She closed her eyes. "Do we really have time for a date?"
The bed moved beside her head and she felt familiar boney pressure against her hips. She opened her eyes to find that Garrus was perched on top of her on the bed, leaning over her in a very predator like fashion.
"Yes." He said. "There's a lot going on. There always has been a lot going on and I'm beginning to think there always will be a lot going on." He scowled at her. "We have already deviated drastically from my intended post-war trajectory of retiring to a beach somewhere and living off royalties from vids. Not that I've given up on that mind you." He said with a grin. "I thoroughly intend to get you in a climate where it's way too hot to wear all this damn armor all the time." She tried to swat him but he caught her hand easily and pinned it to the bed, which she enjoyed more than she should. "However, while you've become obsessed with being a good person and being in charge of saving everyone, someone has to make sure that you come up for air or are at least making time for highly aerobic activities." He grinned. "Gotta take time to be wet and panting if you wanna stay sharp, Shepard."
She was going to kill him when she got out from under him. Well… she might do something else first, but once they finished, then she was definitely going to kill him. The way Garrus watched her made her sure he was somehow reading her mind. He grinned again. "So we are going on a date." He pushed off her intentionally slowly.
"And what exactly is this date going to entail?" Shepard asked.
He laughed. "Oh I decided to, as you humans say, take a leaf out of your book." She frowned. "I'm not telling you." He added. "You'll just have to wait for it to start to find out."
"That's not fair!" Shepard snapped.
"Oh no," He said. "After the shit you pulled yesterday it's entirely fair, and entirely overdue."
He started pulling his armor on, carefully placing his visor on his face. Armor? Shepard was becoming very concerned and very suspicious. "And what kind of turian bullshit date requires you to start putting armor on when the date is later tonight?" She asked.
"I have to go get things ready, Shepard."
"And again, why the armor?"
He grinned again. "That's for me to know and you to find out." He pulled her from the bed and kissed her slowly, gently, maddeningly after being on top of her and pinning her to the bed. He laughed when he heard her heartbeat accelerate.
"Mad, Shepard?" He purred.
"Yes." She growed.
"Good." He shoved her gently back onto the bed and left the room.
./././././././././././././././././././././././
Shepard was still drained from seeing the brutes the day before, tired from the lack of sleep and now she was hot, bothered, and her sparring partner had gone off to do nefarious things in armor, so she had no way to take the edge off. She could literally feel her biotics crawling under her skin. She prowled through the house until she found Atala sitting at the dining table studying something on a tablet. Atala looked like she was having the same kind of day Shepard was, the skin around her eyes where her face plates ended was a darker blue than usual.
Shepard leaned against the door, eyeing the turian. "Hey." Shepard called. Atala looked up at her looking confused.
"Yes?"
"Remember how there were two things I needed from you in order to forgive you for boarding my ship like a goddamn pirate?"
"Yes…" Atala said with a frown.
"You got me plenty of turian wear, but it's time for the second thing I needed." Shepard grinned. "Where's your sparring ring?"
Atala eyed her for a moment and then said. "That depends, Commander." She raised a hand, biotics dancing . "Do you want a workout or do you want to spar?"
Shepard grinned.
/./././././././././././././././././././././././
"Oh you are so much more fun than my brother." Atala crowed as a blast of her biotics bounced off Shepard's shields. "Spirits, I wish the problem was with him Joining with you rather than you being human because I would totally just petition to have you adopted."
Lights danced across the sunken courtyard at the back of the house. The courtyard was about twelve feet below the rest of the yard at the bottom of a steep stair. On one side was a wall of rock that rose into the air, seamlessly transitioning into the cliff face of the mountain. It was pitted with craters and burns that Shepard could only imagine were from the biotics who had fought here through clan Vakarian's long history. Apparently there was also a sizable sparring room on the top level of the house, but this was where the biotics could play, and Atala was delighted to finally have a playmate.
"Interesting." Shepard called, panting as she hurled a blast at Atala. "Garrus always thought you would want to Join with me if he dropped the ball." Atala threw herself into a summersault, dodging Shepard's blast of green light and hurling a missile of radiant blue as she emerged from the tumble.
"No offense, Commander." Atala said, "But you're too fun to spar with and I keep my combat and love life separate." She sent a shockwave towards Shepard who shielded it easily. "I prefer to be able to win in both arenas and that gets tricky if you're beating the same partner each time." She dashed forward, and Shepard let her close the distance, then sidestepped the charging turian at the last moment before hurling a bolt of green light at the turian's back. Atala caught the move out of the corner of her eye and pressed her weight back so that she fell, slipping under the bolt and spinning her body to land in a crouch. Oh she's good. Shepard thought. It had only taken the turian a few exchanged biotic blasts for her to realize that Shepard's biotics were stronger than her own (something Shepard had actually found surprising). Atala had adapted immediately. She didn't need to have her biotics to go head to head with Shepard's. She had begun ducking and weaving around Shepard's attacks, hurling her own volleys of light with perfect aim at the most unlikely of times; mid summersault, in a duck, or halfway through a backflip. She'd actually caught Shepard several times and presented the Commander with a fascinating challenge. Rather than looking for the body language that suggested Atala was about to attack, Shepard had to watch for the moment where the turian seemed the most preoccupied with something else, as that was usually the moment when Atala launched her assault.
"You're that competitive?" Shepard asked, carefully watching the turian.
Atala shrugged. "I know myself. No point in denying it." She grinned. "Besides, I've found that when people don't spend their whole lives fighting, sneaking around and killing or destroying things, they have the time to develop other… fascinating talents… and I find those very enjoyable." The turian grinned lazily and Shepard threw up a shield: sure enough, a blast of blue light slammed into it the minute it had fully materialized.
"I can't tell if I should be impressed or grossed out." Shepard said, shaking her head.
"Oh come on!" Atala shouted. "Mind out of the gutter, Shepard. I mean talents like cooking or poetry or….." She grinned guilty at the Commander. "Other things."
"Yeah, there we go." Shepard said. She wiggled her fingers for a moment, watching the light gleam across her strands. "Hey… can I try something?"
Atala considered her. "Yeah, why not."
"Alright. Give me your strongest shield. Like five feet in front of you… and try not to let me break it."
Atala frowned. "Are you just showing off like a dick? We've already established you can blast through my shields."
"Yes," Shepard said. "But unlike your brother I like to get nice and close and play with my food before I kill it." She clenched her fists, the green light slowly winding up her arms. It reached her face and her eyes began to shine. Energy sparked around her, lifting her hair as if it was caught in her own personal gust of wind. She smiled. "I want to see if I can tear through it."
Atala raised an eyebrow, but raised her hands as well and a shimmering blue shield formed in the air five feet before her. Her brow creased.
Shepard took a deep breath and charged at the wall of blue light. She thought of Mordin, of Kaiden, of the Conduit's stupid child face. She thought of everything she'd lost and the grief she'd seen on Atala's Lieutenant's face. She could tell the glow in her strands had brightened. As she sprinted towards Atala's shield she could see green light on the stones beneath her, despite the bright afternoon sun. She pulled her hands forward as she reached the blue wall and tore at them with all the rage she had felt over the past few years. There was a crack like a thunderbolt and Atala's shield vanished. Shepard was thrown forward; her hands had hit a barrier at high speed that vanished a moment after she touched it and before the rest of her body could slow down. She slammed into Atala hard, the turian completely unprepared for the blow and the two females went tumbling to the ground, Shepard's knee colliding with Atala's side.
They landed in a tangle of limbs, Atala pinned beneath Shepard. "Sorry!" Shepard said quickly. Atala's forehead was creased in pain and she rubbed at her side. "I didn't know that would happen."
"Not a problem." Atala said. "Neat trick. When you figure out how to do it you gotta tell me. Next time I'll put the shield twelve feet in front of me, I think."
"Probably not a bad idea." Shepard said. "Again, sorry, I did not intend to mow you down there."
"Hey," Atala said. "I know better than anyone else in this house that you have twice as much training to do as anyone else. You gotta work your biotics and your body. Wanna just call this the beginning of the hand to hand rounds?"
Shepard grinned. "Sounds good to me."
"Good." Atala said and then swept a leg up under Shepard and sent the Commander flying off her with a kick of her powerful legs.
Shepard spat out some dirt and glared at the turian as Atala climbed to her feet. The spy shrugged. "You said your sparring partner was getting too predictable. I'm not going to be doing my job if I make things easy."
Shepard felt her temper flare. "Oh, that's fine by me. I don't want things easy." She climbed to her feet and the two females began circling. Shepard was relatively tall for a human at five eleven, but Tavor was the only turian she had ever seen that was under six feet. Atala was about six three by Shepard's estimate, and had long turian everything to go with it. But Shepard was from Earth, and her little, blue, heavy-gravity, still-burning, hardass of a planet made you work for every move you made, and in the days she'd been on Palaven she could tell that its gravity was a lot less possessive.
She ran for Atala, leaping off the ground as she neared her and flinging her leg out in a kick. Her leap took her twice the height into the air that she had anticipated and her foot slammed into the turians left shoulder rather than the center of her mass as Shepard had intended. Atala grunted with the hit but allowed her body to move with the force of Shepherd's blow. She spun around and brought an elbow down hard across Shepard's back, making the Commander cough and stagger a few steps.
Shepard spun around and bought a left hook across the turian's face. Atala took a few steps back and spat blue blood into the dirt. She glared at Shepard and sneered. "Is that all you've got, human?" There was something off about her remark and the way Atala was glaring at her. They kept circling, exchanging blows, Atala seeking cheap shots and taking stupid risks. "If this is all you've got in our weak gravity I don't know what my people were so worried about." She'd taken several blows from Shepard at this point due to her reckless moves but didn't seem to care. Suddenly, from rubbing her jaw, she exploded into motion, the same trick she'd been using with ther biotics, and landed a blow to Shepherd's ribs. They definitely weren't sparring anymore.
Shepard circled the turian, increasing the distance between the two of them. "Are you ok?" she asked.
"Fine." Atala spat, swiping viciously at Shepard. The Commander caught her hand easily and pressed her weight forward. To her surprise, and Atala's frustration, based on her growl, the turian moved back under her pressure. Shepard could feel Atala resisting furiously, but in the lighter gravity, Atala's greater size didn't matter. Shepard's strength from years under Earth's gravity on her home and the Alliance vessels gave her the edge.
"You're lying." Shepard pressed. "What the hell's going on here?"
"Nothing." Atala snarled and threw herself at Shepard. It took effort, but Shepard managed to dodge the lunge and kicked Atala's feet out from under her for good measure, sending her tumbling into the dirt. Atala was reluctant to talk. Fine. Shepard had dealt with this kind of thing before and knew how to handle it.
"Something's clearly wrong because you're getting sloppy."
"I am not sloppy."
"You're on the ground. That means you're sloppy."
Atala clambered back to her feet and threw a punch at Shepard, which she blocked, landing a blow on the turian's shoulder. Atala backed up a few steps, rubbing the impact sight. "Why were you so kind yesterday on your ship?" She growled. She hurled another series of punches at Shepard. "I boarded your ship, stole your files, gave them to Dad and think you're crazy for trusting the Reapers." Atala hadn't called them Reapers in days and had been pointedly correcting her father. "You think I should go to Earth and swim with sharks." She added. "So why were you nice to me?"
With a swift block, Shepard halted Atala's forward momentum and started pressing the turian backwards, taking care to keep her blows quick and make Atala work to block or avoid them. A surprising number slipped through her guard and landed on her. "You lost people and you were hurting." Shepard growled.
"I don't want your human pity." Atala sneered again.
"Good." She said. "Because I don't have time for pity. I only have compassion for those that deserve it." She kept her assault up, but put less weight behind the blows. Atala noticed instantly.
"Don't you dare go soft on me." She snarled. "What's the matter? Afraid my mommy will get mad and cause you more problems if I get bruises from the nasty human?"
"No." Shepard said darkly, her blood pounding now. "But this is over." She spun around the turian and landed a blow with her elbow to the weak spot she had found on Garrus' armor. It was in Atala's too. She cried out in pain and Shepard took the opportunity to slam her into the dirt, pinning the turian on her back, an arm beneath each of Shepard's knees. She threw a glancing blow at Atala's face. "That is for boarding my ship and threatening my pilot." She spat.
Atala laughed. "That all you got?"
Shepard threw another punch and it cracked against Atala's face. "That is for stealing my private information." Atala cried out that time as the blow landed.
Shepard pulled her fist back as far as possible, "and this…" She threw the punch with all her might, Atala flinced, and Shepard's fist slammed into the rock next to the turian's horned head. "Is because you want it." She was breathing hard. "You want me to hit you right now."
Atala glared at her. "Just do it."
"No." Shepard said sternly. "You can't drown what you're feeling in physical pain."
"Watch me." She tried to push Shepard off her but the Commander shifted her weight and held her easily.
"What the hell is your problem, Kabalim?"
Atala's eyes were burning as she stared up at Shepard. "That medal I had." She said. "It was awarded for my service after the war."
Shepard searched Atala's face. "You helped your people recover."
Atala laughed darkly. "No. It's the Medal of Impact." Shepard thought of the shape and realized that last night she had been looking at a star creating a crater rather than a star in a bowl. "It's been given for centuries to the soldiers who have been exemplary in their duty to guard Palaven by making the most significant individual impact on our enemies' forces." Her voice was pained and Shepard could see the beginning of a bruise forming under her face plates. "It hasn't been awarded to anyone but gunnery sergeants in the last hundred and twenty years." She chuckled. "But I was informed that my numbers in the weeks after the war were more impressive than any other recipient since the Relay 314 Incident." She coughed and Shepard shifted her position, still restraining the furious spy, but making sure not to impede her breathing, particularly after the blow she had landed to Atala's side. "All I wanted to do since I was a kid was serve. Protect my family and my home like they did in the old stories, like Mom and Atalanta did… and then I got to. And I fought hard. And I lost… a lot." She laughed softly again. "And they gave me a medal." She stared at Shepard, her eyes full of self-loathing. "They gave me a medal for slaughtering hundreds of my own people."
/./././././././././././././././././././././.
"I tell you that we're going on a date later in the evening and so you decide it's a good idea to spend the afternoon getting the shit beat out of you?" Garrus said angrily.
Shepard grinned and then immediately winced, pressing the chill-pack against her face where she hand landed in the dirt from Atala's first kick. That first move had actually been the one that had caused the most damage. "I didn't just spend the time getting my ass kicked. You should see Atala's ass, it is heavily kicked."
"That is not the point." Garrus said.
"Well you only have yourself to blame." Shepard said hotly. "You pinned me to the bed and made insinuations and were… you… and then you kissed me like that and you left! What the hell else was I supposed to do?"
He grinned slowly. "I don't think I'm ever going to get tired of how responsive humans are."
She threw the chill-pack at him and he caught it effortlessly.
"I learned a new trick." She said.
He leaned forward, bringing his face a few inches from hers where she sat on the chair in the living space. "Oh really?"
"Not that kind of trick." She said, "Also, gross, I was sparring with your sister."
"Thanks for leaving her more or less in one piece, by the way."
She gave Garrus an appreciative look. "She's good. I didn't have to hold anything back until she got angry and started getting stupid."
"Angry?" Garrus asked, looking concerned. "What the hell did she have to be angry with you for?"
"Not with me." Shepard said. "She…" She paused, wary to talk about this out in the open. She glanced around the main room. She wasn't going to keep anything from Garrus, that was't how their relationship worked, unless she had an excellent idea that he would think was stupid, but she didn't want Atala to hear they were discussing her. And earlier… earlier as she and Atala had been making their bruised and wincing way back to the house Shepard had seen a figure in one of the windows of the west wing. It had been watching them, a distinctive array of horns fanning on either side of it's proud head. Shepard had become very wary of the bruises developing on Atala's face, and she just knew, because turians were impossible, that Rafia would be able to smell who had left them there. Garrus read the concern in her face. He became very still for a moment, the sign Shepard had learned meant that he was listening intently to something, then his nostrils flared as he scented the air. He looked around the room as well and then said. "It's fine Shepard, you can speak freely. No one's here."
"Why don't we just go back upstairs."
"It's fine." Garrus repeated. "Atala's in her bathroom on the floor above us, I can see two murky heat signatures in the west wing roughly where Mom's rooms are so that will be her and the doctor, and Dad's not even in the house this afternoon. He's going over the vids from yesterday with the Primarch." He frowned. "What happened with Atala?"
Shepard sighed. "She reminded me of a certain blue armored someone on Omega who was trying to feel better by either hurting someone or getting very hurt themselves."
Garrus' jaw shifted uncomfortably and he looked through his visor towards the second floor. "I'm sorry."
Shepard placed a hand on his arm. "Don't be." She said.
He looked at her. "I was worried about her yesterday. After she found out Hecate…" He swallowed hard rather than finish the sentence. "We've known their family a long time. Their parents both survived the war but their younger brother didn't, nor did a lot of their extended family." Shepard felt the shadows of an old wound at his words. "They're good turians. They were already mourning her. They don't deserve to lose her twice."
Shepard didn't bother saying that perhaps Hecate could recover. She hadn't wanted Atala to place that name on the wall before she absolutely had to, but there was no point in pretending to Garrus that she didn't see the poor odds of the marauder's survival just as he did. He perched on the arm of the chair she was sitting on and took one of her hands in his, rubbing the soft pad of his thumb across it. "What you did yesterday on the Normandy..." He said softly. "I complain about Atala a lot. And she's a pain. But… we have exemplary turian parents and that is a hard thing to bear. She would miss intentionally during practice after hours of perfect shooting because she knew that she was almost through her targets, and when she was done, Dad would send her back to the house, and I'd be stuck there alone with him." His expression was distant. "She's fought harder for this family than anyone else but didn't hesitate to stand with me when she understood I sought the Joining. You're not turian, you can't understand what she risked by standing up to our mom the way she did." He brought his eyes back to Shepard. "After you, she's the most important thing in this galaxy to me." Shepard squeezed his hand, feeling an old pain in her chest. He snorted. "She has thought that you and the Normandy are very cool and very badass for quite some time. When Dad hadn't told her you were coming to dinner she was completely freaked out because during the war you became her new favorite warrior of legend. And then you were sitting at the table. Yesterday… I don't have the right words to thank you for that."
Now Shepard ran her fingers over his hand. "You're worried about her?"
He snorted again. "I'm always worried about her. It's my job. She's as addicted to trouble as you are." His eyes softened. "Told you you'd fit right in."
"She'll be ok.'
Garrus made a noncommittal noise and glanced outside at the sun that was beginning to set.
"Anyway. No time for that now." He looked at her. "You have to go upstairs and get cleaned up or we're going to be late."
She stood and pulled at him, "Well, why don't you come and help me, then?"
His eyes were hungry at her suggestion but, he shook his head. "No. You smell like sweat and blood and I like that a little too much. If I come upstairs we will definitely be late." But he stood up and pulled her to him, running his cool nose along her ear and the side of her neck, his breath tickling her skin. "Go upstairs." He rumbled in her ear. "I have a surprise for you."
././././././././././././././././.
Afterlife's air was thick with music, smoke and sweat. It created a haze that drowned out clear thought and romanticized poor judgement. In a shadowy booth at the back of the club eyes gleamed with rage and low voices spoke of propaganda and Reapers who had been left alive. It spoke of lies that had tricked the Council and slaughter that spread fear like wildfire. Hearts with open wounds found solace in a reason for the war they could grasp.
She was skeptical. "If what you're saying is true it changes everything." She growled, taking a long sip of her drink. The glass was replaced upon the table without a sound, her scaled fingers trailing the rim of the glass. "And it's not exactly going to be easy."
The human eyed her skeptically. "Our organization is not wanting for resources..." He held out a hand, a small data drive lying in his palm. It bore an insignia consisting of a black arch with a red flame imposed upon it. "...or information. Take a look. If that's not enough, which it should be, we are always capable of obtaining more…"
She reached out to pick up the drive but stopped, her fingers hovering above it. "My time is precious to me." She said, tilting her head to the side.
The man snorted. "You will be paid for considering our invitation." He said.
"Excellent." She took the drive and slid it into her sleeve.
"My employer has no issue compensating you for your time but he anticipates that you will find our cause to be motivation enough."
"Do not presume to know my mind." She growled quietly. "Now, if you're done talking, take your flock and leave me to finish my drink and consider your offer in peace." The human's cold eyes were hard but he nodded and turned from the table and disappeared into the mass of writhing bodies on the dancefloor, the red flame on the back of his uniform seeming to flicker with its own life as he moved.
