It took Alex and Val a few tries to find the right lab space. First they walked into what looked like a chemistry lab, with unfamiliar people in it. With a quick exchange of glances, they turned around and walked out as nonchalantly as possible, sure they were in the wrong place. Next they had a bad moment when Alex tried a passcode on a locked door, only to have an error message returned.
"The question is," Alex muttered, frowning at the lock, "whether this is the wrong building, or whether the code changed with everything else."
"Let's try other buildings and come back if we need to," Val replied, glancing around to make sure nobody was watching them.
"Yeah. Guess I can always hack it."
"Or break it," Val suggested, summoning up a wisp of corona.
Alex looked offended. "Let's try the less destructive method first. Oh wait, that's foreign to your entire nature." He smirked as he said it, his tone more sarcastic than harsh.
Val grinned as they kept walking. Joking around felt good, as if they'd actually grown up together instead of having that time cut short. Alex had insisted on keeping her at arm's length before, but he seemed willing to drop those barriers now.
The door to the next lab building was unlocked, and when they ventured in, Val was relieved to see a familiar figure slouching at the console. At the sound of the door opening, Talitha spun around on her chair, her eyes lighting up. "Oh my God! You're back! How was the trip? Did they really have a portal to another dimension?"
Val winced, her relief turned to chagrin. Their departure for Luna, hoping for that portal, seemed like a long time and too many revelations ago. Before she could gather her wits, Alex answered, stalking across the room and flinging himself into the other chair. "No, they fucked that up amazingly, plus some of them had gotten killed and the rest had run off. Best guess is they managed to create some kind of matter-transmission effect that they couldn't control." He dug an OSD out of his pocket and dropped it on the table. "I grabbed their data, at least."
"Wow, that could be amazingly useful!"
"Maybe, but I doubt it really matters, anyway."
"Matter, ha, I see what you did there." Then Talitha frowned. "Wait, why not?"
Alex crossed his arms and cocked his head toward Val. "Do you want to tell her, or shall I?"
Val blew out a breath. "It turns out I'm not from a parallel dimension."
Talitha jerked upright, startled. "What? How do you know?"
"Reality changed around her," Alex put in, crisp and clipped. "Altered at a quantum level. You haven't taken that artifact out of the case, have you?"
"Duh, of course not, it's been shielded the whole time," Talitha said. "Come on, stop being obscure and tell me what's going on."
Val shot Alex a glare for his unhelpfulness and told her the whole story, more slowly: everything the Reaper had said, and done, and the conclusions they'd drawn from that. Talitha listened, her face set in concentration as she took everything in.
When Val had finished, she said slowly, "So you believe what the Reaper said?"
Val paused at that. No matter how bizarre the story was, it felt right, a deep and terrible certainty rooted in her bones and her gut. The words and visions it had given her, as confusing as they were, had the same diamond clarity as the visions from the Prothean beacon.
"Given what it put in my head, yeah," Alex said, pulling up a screen full of data.
"I know it doesn't make sense," Val said. "But somehow, the Leviathan changed the world around me."
A small silence fell. Talitha said, "But then we're supposed to be dead, aren't we?"
"Yeah." Alex returned his attention to the monitor.
"My family was. You actually weren't killed in the attack," Val said, and then wondered, with a lurch, if she should have said that.
"I wasn't?" Talitha cocked her head.
Since she'd started, she might as well tell her the truth. "You were captured."
Talitha's eyes widened for a second. Alex shot Val an indecipherable look.
Talitha shook her head, her jaw tightening. "Well, that was then. It didn't happen here. But you said Alex was dead? So whatever happened put him back together?"
"Atoms are atoms." Alex shrugged, his eyes drifting back to his screen.
"Alex!" Talitha aimed a kick him at his the leg. Alex barely pulled his foot out of the way in time.
"I still think that if we're talking about quantum-level alterations of reality, bringing people back to life is trivial in comparison," he said.
"But... ughh." Talitha stood up, pacing in circles around the open space and rubbing her temples. "I'm trying to get my head around this. So you think the Crucible thing discharged enough energy that they... could actually reality? Trying to get rid of Val?"
Val nodded before changing her mind. "Trying to get rid of Commander Shepard." It was Commander Shepard, leader and symbol of the fight against the Reapers, who had threatened the Leviathan, promised to fight them if she had to. It was that defiance which had caused them to try to unmake her. All the material of her life, her family, her friends, were only insignificant toys to them. She suppressed a shudder.
"But it didn't work, right? You're still here." Talitha looked at Val earnestly. "Why didn't it work?"
She exhaled, long and slow. "I don't know." The question sank into her mind like a stone. Somehow, in trying to come to grips with all of this, she hadn't asked that question.
"Now that is an interesting question." Alex turned away from his monitor, looking at her with curiosity. "Maybe the universe abhors a Commander Shepard vacuum."
Talitha chuckled. Val managed a thin smile.
"They did end up with a different Commander Shepard," Talitha said thoughtfully. "Maybe you're right."
"Even if I am, that doesn't explain why your memory wasn't altered to fit their new reality, though."
She took a breath, thinking it over. "I was the closest person to the Crucible when it discharged. Maybe that had something to do with it?"
"Maybe." Alex cocked his head; he and Talitha were both looking at Val speculatively, which made her feel like a bug under a microscope. "Let's go with that as a working hypothesis, anyway. Not that it really matters, either, since we can't duplicate the effect."
"Is there anything else that could produce that much energy?" Talitha asked.
"It was a unique project. Everyone pitched in. I can't see all the races getting behind a rebuilding effort," Alex said. "There are only about a million higher priorities, like rebuilding crucial infrastructure, returning people to their homeworlds. You know. Minor shit like that." He scowled at his screen, as strings of numbers scrolled across it.
"So what do we do now?" Talitha glanced at Val.
Val took a breath and squared her shoulders. "The Leviathan are up to something, and I'd like to know what. They have to have some kind of endgame beyond what we see here." Maybe if she said it often enough, she'd get back her confidence and will to keep fighting.
"Oh, okay," Talitha said, accepting Val's half-baked goal as if it was a sensible one. "So you're looking up the scans on the artifact?" she said to Alex.
"Mm-hm." He didn't look up.
"Maybe John Shepard would know something?" Talitha suggested.
Val said, "Last time I checked, he was in a coma and not likely to recover."
Talitha looked uncomfortable at that, fidgeting with a frayed cuff on her sleeve. "Well. Looks like the orb here is our best lead, then."
"EDI found a way to track its signal before, but only while it was active," Val pointed out.
"Yeah, I've got the recording from when it activated before," Alex said. "I can try to work with that. Let's see what else we can find out before attempting anything like that again."
"Talitha — did anything weird happen when we were gone?" Val asked. They didn't have any explanation for the changed site of the camp, but if anything had happened here, Talitha ought to know.
"With the orb? No. It just sat there."
"No, I mean..." This question was going to sound bizarre, no way around it. "Did the camp move?"
Alex looked up sharply at this, all his attention focused on Talitha's answer.
Talitha looked baffled. "No?"
"You're sure?" Val pressed.
"I think I would have noticed," she said, crossing her arms.
"When did Misha get here?" Alex asked.
"Like... a couple days before you left?" Talitha glanced from one of them to the other. "Are you guys okay?"
"Fine," Alex said, meeting Val's eyes and doing something complicated with his eyebrows. Whatever he was trying to get across, Val wasn't getting it at all.
Whatever had happened, it was normal to everyone else. They were the ones who were different: the three of them who went to Luna and talked to the Reaper.
And Alex, for whatever reason, didn't seem inclined to disclose this piece of weirdness yet. Having apparently attempted to communicate via significant look, he said, "Can you show me what you've been doing while we were gone, then?"
"Sure." Talitha shrugged. "It's all pretty routine, though."
Val hesitated as Talitha joined Alex at the workstation. "You probably don't need me for this, do you?"
"No, but if we need something punched, I'll let you know," Alex said, the corner of his mouth quirking up.
Val scowled at him, even though he wasn't looking. "Fine. I'll head out then. I'll see if I can catch up with James or Samantha." It was too early in the afternoon for the promised dinner with Misha and Mama, which was good since the idea made her stomach churn with nerves.
"James is probably down at the bar," Talitha said absent-mindedly, peering over Alex's shoulder. "Or training, maybe, but that's usually a morning thing."
"Assuming it hasn't moved," Alex muttered.
"The Alliance hasn't tried to shut it down or anything, if that's what you mean," Talitha said.
Val sighed, but decided to follow Alex's lead this time. "So, humor me, Talitha. How do I get to the bar for a drink?"
"It's between here and the turian camp," Talitha said, still puzzled, and gave directions.
As before, Val had to wind her way to the outskirts of camp and then head off across the countryside. The landscape, at least, hadn't changed. Flat, grassy ground, open skies, hills in the distance. The trail between the two camps was well worn, dug deep by groundcar tracks and feet, lending weight and truth to the claims that the camp had always been in its current location.
Normally the rhythm of running was soothing, the pounding of her feet on the ground settled her and cleared her head. Today she couldn't shake a sense of unease that kept her shoulders tight and her stride jerky. She was sick of feeling off-balance, of struggling between trusting her senses and trusting her memories. They had to be missing something, but she didn't know what. Alex and Garrus remembered, at least, and everyone seemed to remember them, which was something, but there were too many missing pieces to this puzzle.
Why didn't it work? Talitha's question echoed inside her head. It felt like Val was trapped inside a house of mirrors, never seeing the whole picture.
Damn, she was sick of being jerked around. By the Alliance, by Cerberus, by monsters whose goals she didn't understand, she was fed up with all of it.
The square, gray prefab shack, rising along the road ahead of her, looked familiar enough. It had to be the place. Val slowed, trying to corral her frustrated thoughts. She took a moment to catch her breath and stretch out before stepping in.
Inside, everything appeared slightly out of place, like someone had rearranged all the tables in her few days' absence. Val blinked, trying to resolve the room into its familiar contours. The table she and James and Garrus usually grabbed ought to be over there, but instead there were two smaller tables and an oversized chair. Scanning the room, she spotted James's bulky frame at a booth near the bar — with Steve Cortez, which gave her an unexpected jolt of delight. She hadn't seen Steve since London, hadn't known where he was now. Knowing he was safe, at least for the moment, was a welcome relief.
She ordered her drink first, relieved to find that her usual drink was still her usual, and headed over to join the two men.
Steve nudged James with his elbow as she approached, making James glance up at her. His eyebrows lowered and his mouth set into a firm line. "Well, look who it is," he said, giving her a heavy look from under his brows. "Commander."
Val paused a step, coming to alert. Unusual for James not to go with something more casual. "Vega," she said, cautiously. "How's it going?"
He shrugged one shoulder. "You know. Not much happening round these parts. You know Esteban?"
"Steve Cortez," he introduced himself, extending a hand.
Val leaned over to shake it. "Val Shepard."
"No relation," James added.
"Oh, I know," Steve said — to Val, not James. "Mr. Vega here's mentioned you."
"That sounds ominous," Val said, with another glance at James, trying to gauge his mood. Pissed off, from the look of it. It wasn't hard to guess why.
Steve chuckled. "Not my problem, and if you'll excuse me, I need a refill." He got up smoothly and headed back to the bar.
Val considered and then slid into the empty space in the booth, next to James. He never did like it when you beat around the bush, so: "Do we have a problem, Vega?"
He took a drink, settling back. "You tell me."
"Nothing's wrong from where I'm standing." She sipped her drink, watching him out of the corner of her eye.
James grunted, frowning at his glass.
"Come on, out with it," Val said, barely restraining herself from kicking his ankle under the table. This was an impressive degree of sulking; better to get it all out now.
James shot her a dark glance, and said sullenly, "You said I was on your team next time. First on your list, you said."
That was, in fact, exactly what she'd said. Val sighed. She'd known James wouldn't like being left behind, but between their cover story and the size of their ship, there hadn't seemed to be a good option to bring him in. "Not my call," she said, striking a regretful tone. "The turians authorized the mission, with Vakarian in charge. He requested Alex and me, and had trouble getting Coats to agree to that much." She wasn't even stretching the truth that much.
James squinted at her. "So you're saying I should take this up with Scars?"
"If you want," she said, mentally apologizing to Garrus. He and James were friendly; he could handle a little of James's annoyance. With a wry smile, she added, "That shuttle was pretty tight quarters anyway."
"Hell, that don't bother me," James said, but he relaxed, slouching a bit, so Val judged she was past the worst of his ire. "You find anything good?"
"Could I tell you if I did?" she asked, taking a drink.
"Come on, you can trust me," he said, grinning. Good; they were okay, then, though it would be a good idea to include him the next time there was a field op.
Val shrugged, trying to decide what was fit for a semi-public conversation. "Facility was abandoned. Pretty creepy, honestly." She shivered, her spine itching at the memory. "Didn't look like they'd accomplished much. Kind of a bust, really."
"Cerberus, man." James shook his head. "Pack of crazy, shitty assholes."
"Can't argue with that."
"What are we talking about?" Steve asked, returning to the table.
"Cerberus," James replied.
"Ugh, those guys."
"'Assholes' was our general sentiment," Val said.
Steve held out his glass, and Val clicked hers against it, grinning.
"Here's hoping we've seen the last of 'em," James said, adding his own glass to the toast.
Val drank to that, even though she wasn't confident that Cerberus was totally gone. Miranda was up to something, and she could be a formidable opponent — or ally. Hell, if Miranda was aiming to reorganize or revive Cerberus somehow, that made Val more nervous than the idea of the Illusive Man in charge. Though for all she knew, he might be out there somewhere, too. Either way, at this point, Val couldn't be sure what Miranda's motives were, and that put her on edge.
But there wasn't any point in dwelling on it now, so she asked Steve, "Now, what exactly was it James said about me?"
Steve laughed. "Well, when he wasn't griping about being left out of whatever your mission was..."
"Almost as crazy as the commander. Other commander, whatever. That's what I said," James said firmly.
"Almost?" Val asked, amused.
The ensuing conversation felt like sinking into the most comfortable beat-up armchair. Steve and James bantered just the way they always had, constantly ribbing each other and cheerfully including her in the conversation. Steve's easygoing, steady temperament had always tended to draw people in. Val only had to be a little careful: she asked getting-to-know-you type questions about flying, his service on the Normandy, and his friendship with James instead of taking all that knowledge for granted. When he asked about her own record, she stayed vague, throwing in details from her on-paper record and parts of her career that still fit. Nobody expected anyone to get too deep into the gritty details of their assignments and war stories, anyway.
James was in the middle of telling some implausible story about his alleged exploits on Omega when someone nudged Val's shoulder. She looked up, startling to find Misha smiling cheerfully down at her. "Hey, okay if I interrupt?"
"Hey," she said, accepting the hug he leaned over to give her. Returned it with a firm hug of her own — hopefully not too tight. "Right, dinner, am I late?"
"No, we've still got some time. Mind if I join you?"
"Of course not." He took the free chair between her and Steve as she made introductions: "James Vega, Steve Cortez, my brother Misha."
"Officially Mikhail, but Misha's better," he said, shaking hands with the other men.
"I think I've seen you around," Steve said.
"Probably. I was just militia, so right now I'm waiting for the next flight home."
"Weren't you the one talking to the mess officer about getting in some fresh produce?"
Misha laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, that was me. I know supply's a problem, but come on, we have a whole planet here. We know how to make things grow on Terra Nova. Mostly, anyway."
"Sounds good to me," James said. "I'd go a long way to eat something besides basic rations."
"If people are going to be camped out here for a while yet, growing some fruit and vegetables could help with supply and morale," Misha said, eyes brightening as he spoke. Then he sighed. "Probably just a pipe dream, though. Growing food on any kind of scale might not be practical."
"Still might be a morale-booster, and give more people something to do," Val said. "Don't give up the idea yet." She gave him an affectionate pat on the shoulder, which felt both natural and weird at the same time. As a kid, she never would have hesitated to hug her brothers, especially Misha, who'd always been the most prone to cuddling. As an adult, she didn't know if the gesture belonged to the tall man sitting next to her.
Misha smiled without seeming disturbed, though. "Chances are I'll get the thing started just in time to leave."
"It's a good idea, though," Steve said. "If you need to scout out a location, let me know. I've got shuttle access."
"Thanks," Misha said, looking pleased and surprised. Val paused, looking closely at Steve for a minute, trying to figure out whether he was just being nice, or making a move on her little brother.
Who was probably perfectly capable of taking care of himself. And Steve was a good guy, absolutely. But. Misha was still her little brother.
She fell quiet and watched the two of them for the next few minutes, alert for any signs of flirtation. They kept talking, Misha asking questions about Steve's flight experience, James throwing in some jokes and banter, but nothing seemed unusually intimate. Just the normal conversation of people meeting for the first time. She was being ridiculous, she concluded, embarrassed at her sudden surge of protective sisterly instincts, and dropped her gaze to the table.
In her peripheral vision, Steve froze, mid-sentence, and then shouted, "Down!"
Everything happened at once. Steve threw himself to the side, taking Misha to the floor with him. Val twisted in place, turning around to see what Steve had been looking at. James shoved the table aside, table and glasses crashing to the floor, and started clambering over the wall of the booth.
She heard the sharp report of a gunshot. Pistol, the analytical part of her brain said, even as a burning sting lanced her upper arm. Predator, probably. Whipping around, off-balance, she tilted sideways on the edge of her seat, catching a glimpse of a blond human near the door before James charged toward it, blocking her sight.
Other people rushed toward the door, shouting. Somewhere in the room, a couple of people screamed.
Val overbalanced and slid to the floor, landing painfully on a still-intact shot glass. She rolled and bumped into the overturned table before scrambling to her feet, crouching in a defensive position. She raised her hands, corona flaring — pain burst through her left arm, and it wouldn't move properly.
Another gunshot. Someone screamed. A knot of people struggled at the doorway now, making it impossible to spot the person she'd seen a moment ago. She thought she saw Alex in the crowd, and started forward, fear tightening her chest. Not her brothers, whatever was happening, she didn't want them hurt.
As the cluster of people shifted, Val caught a glimpse at the gun wielder, struggling and twisting as at least three people grabbed at her — a woman, pistol in her left hand, fighting to get her arm out of someone's grip. Her eyes, wide and furious, locked with Val's for a fraction of a second.
Val gathered the dark energy collecting around her and pushed it forward, straining to keep focus on the resulting barrier. James moved, obscuring her view; there was a strangled cry, and one more shot fired.
Everything seemed to stop. "Shit," James said, loud in the sudden quiet. The crowded knot at the doorway loosened, people stepping back to reveal the blond woman lying on the ground, blood leaking from a hole above her ear. Val let the barrier drop and stared, numbly, her body buzzing with wasted adrenalin. The dead woman looked middle-aged, her slack face vaguely familiar. Two men Val didn't know were bending to examine the fallen woman, one of them activating an omni-tool. "Shit. The hell was that." James wheeled around. "What the — Lola, you okay?"
"Yeah," she said, straightening and glancing around to see if Misha and Steve were okay. They were both picking themselves off the ground, looking shaken but uninjured. "Misha, are you all right?"
"Never mind me, you're bleeding!" he said.
"What?" She looked down, only then registering the blood trickling down her arm. "Oh. Shit." She clamped her other hand over the wound, wishing for a medi-gel dispenser. "Probably just a graze."
"You sure about that?" James came looming up behind her. "Someone else making a move on you?"
"Someone else?" Misha exclaimed. "Someone tried to kill you before?"
Too many times; she couldn't even say she was surprised. "It's not that big a deal," she lied, starting to feel light-headed.
James snorted, yanking out a handkerchief to tie around her arm. "Yeah, nice try. Man, you attract trouble, Lola."
Wait, what? She squinted up at James as the name he'd used sank in. "What did you call me?"
"Finally figured out your nickname," he said, eyes focused on the knot he was tying.
"Val, what the hell was that?" Alex emerged out of the milling crowd, frowning and pale. "Was she aiming at you?"
"I don't know," she said, although she suspected Alex's guess was right, and she was the intended target. If that was supposed to be a murder attempt, it was an amateurish one. "Could have just been lucky."
"Or unlucky," he muttered, shaking his head. "I came in right behind her, but I didn't suspect anything until she pulled the gun."
"It's all right," she told him, although she was starting to sway on her feet, and her head swam.
"Come on, Commander, sit the hell down." James pushed her back toward the seat, Alex and Misha following her like shadows. Steve was calling out for a medic.
"I was distracted, I guess," Alex muttered, as James stepped away to use his comm. "I think I figured it out, though."
"Figured what out?" Val asked. Misha was propping her injured arm up, above the shoulder — right, elevate the wound — but she focused on Alex, trying to track what he was saying over the roaring in her ears.
"Why things are —" He made a complicated circling motion with his hands. "I think they're still changing things. Altering reality."
"What?" Val stared at him. For a second she could have sworn time stopped, her swirling awareness concentrated on Alex's distracted eyes and downturned mouth.
Then Misha said, exasperated, "What are you two talking about?" and a burly woman in Alliance medic gear was taking her pulse and asking her briskly to focus, and there was no chance to ask anything more.