Novio - Boyfriend in Spanish
Shepard stared at the closed gate for the space of five heartbeats, a wistful grin spreading across her face. Damn, Sparky looked good, the years had done well by him. Barbed and howling, exile scraped through her, a desolate wind clawing for purchase. 'You belong with him and Anderson,' it demanded. "Go after them!" But then a set of twin mass accelerator cannons pelted her position, shattering any chance of a reunion. She bolted for the nearest crate, her ass plowing the light snow as she hit the ground and slid the last two meters. Flashbangs detonated within every canyon carved into her skin, the pain blinding and deafening her for a handful of seconds.
"Sweet baby Jesus, Vincent, I thought I said cover me!" she hollered into her comms.
"To give you time to close the gate, not daydream about your Alliance novio," came the reply from over behind a pile of crates. "And I could use some back up over here."
Shepard scrambled up off the ground, feeling like a gopher as she popped up to look over her crate, the three mechs closing on his position confirming his peril. Damn. They needed to throw the mechs off for a few seconds, let him get to better cover.
"We've got about five minutes before these metal fucks mash us into paste," Jack shouted. The tattooed beauty's head appeared above the bottom of the window. A second later a shockwave pounded through the YMIR line, staggering two of them enough to give Shepard a chance to move.
Shepard bolted past the closest mechs and dove in behind new cover. She glanced up at the comm shed, judging how long she needed to cover the distance. Damn, the prefab had already taken a hell of a pounding, and the second level hung precariously, supported by only one pillar … not exactly stable. It wouldn't take much more punishment. She needed to keep the mechs' fire directed elsewhere for a couple of minutes.
"Miranda," she called into her radio, "set your overload for max area. You and I'll fry the mechs closing on Vincent." She popped up to assess the ever-changing conditions. "When we do that, Javik, and Liara, heavy warp. Vincent, hit them with your carnage and then run for their shed. Jack, once the armour is compromised, bounce those fuckers to the blessed Enkindlers' light."
Jack whooped, a deep throaty celebration of mayhem. "Fuck yeah!"
"It'll make for one hell of a boom!" Vincent crowed.
Shepard cued up her overload, setting it to arc between enemies. "Roger that. On three … one … two … three." After discharging her overload, Shepard leaped up and ran for the communications shed, not sparing a glance for the Vesuvius of combined powers erupting behind her. At least one of the mechs exploded, Jack's raw, glorious bray of fury soaring above the explosions.
Crumpling all her broken bits into a tight coil, Shepard launched herself over the twisted remains of stairs. Mid-leap, terror flared as a brilliant firework ripped through the darkness, ravenous for the taste of charred and shredded flesh. The rocket scorched the air so close to her neck that the skin erupted into blisters. Then fire ... whirling and churning, limbs flailing through smoke and flame … tumbling amidst a maelstrom of stone and metal. The blast slammed her through the melted pretzel of the railing and into the doorframe. The first impact drove the air from her lungs and rattled everything inside her head loose. The last tumbled her through the door and sent her sliding across the floor on her belly. Three blissful seconds of ringing, stunned oblivion exploded, every cell of her being shrieking with the cries of the flayed and damned.
A high, shrill howl of pain sliced between clenched teeth as she forced herself up onto her hands and knees. As her scream exhausted itself, a death wail of tearing metal ripped through the prefab, the building convulsing and crumbling around her. Shepard tipped over onto one hip, looking up to watch a massive tear open across the ceiling, revealing the dark, cloudy sky. Mesmerized by the kaleidoscope of falling snow, black lightning, and silver sparks streaking across her vision, Shepard stared, oblivious to her peril until another wail of rending metal kicked her survival instinct in the ass.
This whole place is going to come down on your head in about thirty seconds, Janey. Get up. You can push through it.
Blinded by pain, Shepard relied on muscle memory to slap her medigel. She waited until it deployed, then hit the control again before heaving herself up off the floor and looking for her goal. There. The computer station at the far end of the shed. It remained intact, at least what she could see of it seemed to be. Keeping low, Shepard hobbled toward the computer. The entire building swung back and forth with her pulse, the world silent but for a low ringing. Dizzy, blind, and nearly deaf, she tripped over something, instinctively sticking out her arms to break her fall. Both wrists and hands screamed as she landed. Glancing back, she saw a small white blob.
A med kit?
Sweet baby Jesus, let it be a medkit.
Greedy for some … any … relief from the igneous torture ... she snatched at the patch of white, missing a couple of times when it ducked away at the last second. On the fourth whack she managed to grab hold.
Please, please, let this be a med kit.
She dragged it onto her lap and opened it, fumbling with the clasp. Hands shaking so hard she could barely hang onto the damned thing, she wrenched it open. Pain roared like the surf, a hurricane smashing her entire body against the rocks. It was a medkit. Praise the blessed Enkindlers. Rooting through, tossing aside bandages and other unnecessaries, she pocketed the medigel … then … at the bottom … syringes. She pulled one out and shoved the rest of the kit off her legs.
Janey, you know what this means.
Shepard scowled, her right arm snapping out to keep her from tipping over. Obsidian splinters, sharper and more cruel than glass sliced into her arm. Either the rocket, or the impact afterward had torn open her wounds … all of them. She sagged over onto one elbow to steady herself enough to take the cap off.
Taking painkillers didn't mean anything, except being functional.
Janey, you've worked way too hard to slide back down that hole. Just clench your teeth and bull through it.
"Shepard, come in. Where the hell are you? We're getting fucking shredded out here!"
Jack's cry pulled the cap and shoved the syringe into the port on her armour.
It means saving my people.
"Miranda!" Vincent hollered. "Al, can you get to her? I'm pinned."
"I'm trying. There's two between … ."
Vincent and Al hit the plunger together.
Relief spread through her veins, blissful and cool, ice water over fevered skin. As the agony calmed, Shepard took her first full breath and clenched her fists a couple of times to help steady their shaking. Her vision cleared, and she eyed the rest of the syringes. It'd be a few minutes before she knew if she'd taken enough to solve the problem. She reached over for the kit and grabbed the rest, shoving them into her belt pouch.
Just in case. Who knew how much of a fight lay ahead.
An explosion near the door collapsed the last pillar. The shed let out a piercing, metallic death scream, the far end tearing and buckling under the weight of the second floor. Shepard scrambled toward the computer station on all fours, and crawled up into the chair. She blinked a couple of times, then rubbed her eyes, trying to clear her vision enough to deal with electronics.
Okay. Power. She needed power. Frantic hands moved over the controls. One hand leaped up to scratch the deep line around her mouth with the pad of her thumb.
Damn it. No power. She just needed enough to send a single command.
Shoving the chair back, she slithered off to lie beneath the console. She fabricated a screwdriver on her omnitool and used it to pry open the panel. A mess of shorts and mangled wires greeted her.
"Well, at least the console still has power," she muttered, diving in. "Of course, that means probably electrocuting myself." As she started jury-rigging power to the vital systems, she saw that the wires had been cut rather than torn apart by destructive force. Sabotage. Someone had tried to make sure no one could access the computer. She rubbed her eyes again, trying to get them to focus on the myriad of tiny building blocks. At least the meds pushed the pain back enough that the fog lifted, her pulse no longer making everything throb to its beat.
She clenched her fists a couple more times, then dove back in. Just needed to take the power from the backups, reroute it through … damn, the saboteur thought of that. Okay, so through the secondary … good, that one remained intact. Three minutes and two slight electrical burns later, Shepard scrambled up, a grim smile of satisfaction greeting the booting system.
She dove into the security systems … dammit, all security protocols had been locked down. A low, frustrated growl rumbled from her throat as she clenched her teeth and started a bypass. Whoever set the mechs loose really didn't want anyone getting into the computer or shutting down the mechs.
"Shepard! What the hell are you doing in there?" Vincent yelled. "We're pinned and this damned building is coming down. Whatever you're doing, get it done!"
Finished the bypass, Shepard sent the shutdown command to the mechs throughout the colony, and was rewarded by a sudden silence in the yard. A wave of concern followed a sharp wash of relief, and Shepard lifted her hand to her radio. "How's everyone doing out there?" She held her breath.
"All present and accounted for," Al answered. "A few of us have more holes in us than we started with, but nothing critical." Shepard heard muttering and then Miranda's voice, strident and insistent, before he spoke again. "Miranda took the worst hit, but she's up and thrashing everyone who tries to help her."
"I am not thrashing anyone. Just let me get up, the ground is freezing. Give me back my armour."
Shepard grinned as she heard the operative's voice. Miranda couldn't be that badly hurt. Satisfied that her people would be all right, she pulled the chair over to the computer and started sorting through what amounted to an impressively thorough muck up job on the security systems. What was her saboteur trying to hide? The surveillance camera archives took the worst hit. Hope sparked and flared. Some evidence, maybe?
She reached up to her radio. "Miranda? In the other attacks, the surveillance camera footage was all wiped, right?"
The operative answered, but from the doorway on Shepard's right. "Yes, no evidence was found." She hobbled over the threshold to stand just behind Shepard's shoulder. "This building is coming down, Shepard. We need to move."
The captain shook her head. "This computer was disabled, and someone did a hatchet job on the camera files." She pointed to the monitor. "There are just tiny pieces left in a few hundred file locations." Opening her omnitool, she started keying in commands, then glanced up at the operative, bludgeoning her with annoyance. "If this is what passes for state of the art in your organization, I'll need to go market for my omnitool." She winced as she continued working. "This is sad. I want my baby back, and you probably tossed it."
Miranda shook her head. "No omnitool was recovered with your body, Shep—"
Letting out a heavy, grinding screech the whole building bucked hard enough to send Shepard's chair rolled across the floor. The far end collapsed another meter or so, ripping the ceiling open like tin foil.
Miranda pressed closer, either seeking shelter or believing that the looming pressure could speed Shepard up. "What are you doing?" she asked, her tone hard and clipped, clinging to the professional edge of panic.
"Writing an elegant and complex little piece of code to try to assemble these fragments into something useful, so shut it, and let me work." As Shepard's fingers flew over the interface with all of her old skill and confidence, a smile crept up on her, spreading across her face until the sharp sting of her wounds halted its progress. She had to hand it to Miranda and the rest of the Frankenstein team … they'd brought her back damned near functional. If she'd slept until healed, she probably never would have known she died.
She finished and hit the control to compile her nifty little program. When that finished, she downloaded it into the console then sat back. "Shouldn't take too long. Depends on how she fragmented the data." Seeing the way the operative kept eyeballing the far end of the prefab, Shepard nodded toward the door. "Go, help the others search the rest of the colony. I'll catch up as soon as I'm done here."
Miranda hesitated for a half second, but then gave Shepard a starched nod and limped back out the door.
At the two minute mark, video footage appeared on one of the secondary monitors. Shepard pushed out of the chair and braced against the console, leaning into the computer as the chilling, but not unexpected last minutes of the colony played out. Insectile stasis drones flitted across the screen like dead leaves, tumbling and swirling through the air. Beyond that, Collectors carried frozen colonists to pods and sealed them inside. A steady line of the pods floated on zero g fields out of frame. A million colonists … a million pods. That meant one hell of a huge ship, maybe two. So … tally on Collector cruisers … three, possibly four.
Shepard folded back into her chair, a heavy scowl weighing down her brow as Tashac's memories stepped forward. Millions of Collectors spread across the galaxy by the end of the war. Obviously, they'd survived through the millennia, but where? Shepard had heard stories about them … that they traded tech for people … one that seemed all too plausible given current events. They came from and disappeared to parts unknown. Rumours said they used the Omega IV relay, another plausible stretch.
"I'm going to try to capture one of the little drones."
Shepard bolted upright in her chair as a face appeared in the secondary monitor. A middle aged woman held up a tool box.
"From what I've seen, they're the key to whatever is happening to people. Wish me luck."
The camera followed her to the door, zooming in to maintain focus. Shepard stood, her fingers pressed against the edge of the console, heart pounding. The woman hesitated at the door, listening. Shepard held her breath, straining to hear what was going on outside the shed. The door at the end opened, the woman stuck the box outside, snapped it shut and then closed the big door. She held the box to her ear then let out a faint cry of victory and fried the lock with her omnitool.
"I caught one or two," she said, looking at the camera. The air left Shepard's lungs in a long whoosh, her shoulders collapsing as the muscles relaxed. After a second of looking around, the woman turned to her left. "I'm going to hide them. I hope whoever comes here … that you find this recording. We aren't the first taken, and we're certainly not going to be the last." She crouched down next to a set of cupboards, dragged out all the contents, then shoved the box in to the back. When she placed everything back inside the cupboard, she ran to the console. "I can hear them outside, trying to get in the door." Glancing back, she whined, a soft mewl low in her throat. "They're going to get in." Shepard reached up, shaking fingers extended toward the monitor.
The woman turned to look at the camera. "They're taking us alive. What do they want with us?" The banging at the door got louder. "Dear God, what are they going to—"
The recording fragmented and disappeared.
Shepard stared at the monitor where that terrified, helpless face had appeared moments before. Her fingers drifted back to the top of the console, a slow, aching sorrow lighting a fire deep in her belly. The next second, panic bloomed sharp and jagged, squelching it. It was all too damned huge and terrifying. Why had Miranda's people brought her back? Why hadn't they just left her in peace? She didn't need to be the one to fight the monsters. She really didn't. What was so fucking special about her? The galaxy needed someone braver, someone stronger … anyone … anyone other than Jane Gwendolyn Shepard and her circus of fears and nightmares.
"Rest of the colony is just more of the same, Shepard," Al said in her ear, his raspy voice throwing a crash barrier in front of Shepard's runaway mako. "Just mechs and ... nothing."
Shoving the pity party out of her head, Shepard straightened, one hand lifting to her ear as she turned to look for the cupboard. "Roger that. I think I've got something here. Rendezvous back at the shed, we'll head for the shuttle. Shepard out."
Taking a deep breath, she crossed the few metres of floor. Her fears spoke the truth. It didn't need to be her to face the Reapers. Any number of people could do it … some of who would fight at her side. However, for whatever reason, that fight had chosen her, and no matter how hard she shook in her boots or her much her hands trembled, she'd see it through. She would … for all the terrified, helpless people who found the courage to spend their last seconds fighting back.
The fire returned, burning away the panic as she caught sight of the cupboard, half-crushed under the collapsing ceiling. Shepard crouched, shuffling under the wreckage, one hand braced against a pretzeled beam, the other stretching in to grab the door handle. The front of the cabinet broke free with just a tug, but everything had shifted toward the crushed end, out of reach.
"Oh, I don't want to go under there," she groaned, a wary glare examining the fragile house of metal cards stacked above her head. Taking a deep breath, she edged forward, stretching as long as she could manage. "I'm going to end up a red splat under all this crap," she bitched, her voice tight with the strain of her reach. Edging forward, she managed to grab a blanket, then another couple of centimetres, she caught another medkit and sent it spinning across the floor. Then two more medkits … then the toolbox. Shepard scrabbled at the plastic case with her fingertips, managing to inch it up the cupboard floor.
"Just about … ." All the muscles along her left side seized in one massive charlie horse. Letting out a yelp, Shepard lunged after the damned tool kit, then threw herself backward, away from the rubble, clutching her prize to her chest.
The odd vibration from inside the box told her everything she needed to know about whether the little drones were still viable. "Excellent." She laid down on her side and stretched out until the muscle spasms eased. Sitting up, she set the toolbox to one side and picked up the scattered medkits. Just in case. She took the medigel and painkillers from each, stuffing them into her belt pouch.
"Shepard?" Al looked in the door, one brow plate rising when he saw her lying on the floor. "Taking a nap?"
"Yep." She climbed to her feet, slow and stiff. "I feel like a rocket slammed me through a railing and into a doorframe," she said, groaning and stretching a little. "I hurt everywhere." After bending over to retrieve the toolbox, she limped back to the console. "Here," she said, holding out the box. "Hold this, but don't open it. Someone caught a drone or two." She sagged against the console for a moment before thumping down into the chair. "She recorded the abductions too."
The orange glow of her omnitool hurt her eyes as she activated it, then winced away, squinting as she keyed in the download. Having some proof of what was happening to all those people certainly couldn't hurt when facing down the Alliance and the council. A shudder rumbled down her spine like a carriage on a rollercoaster. The Alliance … the council … she'd have to convince them that she was alive again … then back to the political bullshit of trying to get them ready for the Reapers.
"You fall asleep over there?" Al called, edging toward the door, the box held out in front of him like he thought it would bite.
Shepard grinned, his expression pulling her straight out of that dark quagmire. "Sort of … I started thinking about the council and trying to imagine how … 'Hi! I'm alive!' is going to go." Her omnitool chimed to let her know that the download was complete. Relief settled all the twitchy, aching bits of her. Time to get the hell out of Dodge. She walked to the door and took the box from his hands. "Let's go."
The rest of the squad were waiting at the back gate, apparently not wanting to return to the courtyard for fear the mechs might suddenly wake up. Moving slowly to accommodate Miranda's unwillingness to let anyone help her, they returned to the space port via a residential district. The empty, lit windows felt haunted, as though all the occupants remained at home, staring out those blanks windows, pounding and screaming for someone, anyone to see or hear them.
Shepard hadn't thought that a Kodiak could look welcoming until she spotted it, and warm, heady relief flooded through her. "Suppose it says something for how creepy a place is when the thought of going back to a new ship where you know only a couple of people and trust none of them is a welcoming option." Shepard looked over at her small gaggle of strange misfits. Liara was trying to convince Miranda to get in the shuttle, while the operative struggled to get everyone else in first.
"Shepard, let's go," Miranda called, waving the captain in. "I know that one of those Marines was a friend, but I don't want to risk all of us being arrested before we even get this mission off the ground."
Shepard let out a long breath. Yeah, Sparky might just arrest her. As far as he knew, Jane Shepard died almost two years ago. She could be anyone, and he was Mr. Straight and Narrow. Still, she waved Miranda off and turned to look for Al. He was walking the other way, confirming her suspicion that his time with her had come to an end. That made her inexplicably sad, all things considered. He'd been an ally in a place where she'd trusted precious little.
Before she followed him, she waved Liara over and passed her the toolbox. "There are samples of the drones in here," she warned the asari. "Don't open it."
Liara shook her head, her eyes getting big. "If we had a safe on the shuttle, I'd lock them in it." Her hands clamped around the small box. "Trust me, after I'm done hanging on to this thing, they might never get it open."
Shepard chuckled and squeezed the asari's shoulder. At least one trusted friend remained. Although, who knew how long Liara would stay. She had a life and an empire to get back to. Pushing that aside to worry about later, Shepard turned to follow Al, her feet dragging. The pain meds kept the agony down to a dull roar, but they intensified her exhaustion.
The turian walked up to the edge of the canal, talons poised right along the edge, and looked up at the sky. "This is where I take my leave of you, Shepard," he said, no doubt hearing her footsteps crunch through the snow. His hood glanced around as she stepped up to his side.
Shepard nodded. An odd combination of relief and regret tickled the back of her throat. At least the strength and purpose in his voice gave her hope for his future out in the galaxy on his own. She looked down into the black water, the fat snowflakes so very white as they drifted down to disappear at its surface. After a couple of minutes, she shivered despite the heater in her armour pumping out plenty of warmth. Of course, the chill had nothing to do with the cold.
It's the damned silence, Janey. Unnatural.
No … it wasn't the silence, either. It was that feeling of being watched … of voices crying out to be heard. She closed her eyes, stretching out … trying to hear them. Maybe she wasn't just being superstitious, maybe somewhere survivors found a hiding place? Some strange sixth sense telling her not to leave them?
A sharp, disproving voice drew her attention back to Miranda, the operative trying to convince Jack and Javik to head back to the ship. Jack wanted to keep searching, almost frantic in her need to find someone alive. That, more than anything, convinced Shepard she needed the volatile biotic on her team. The fight against the Collectors and Reapers require that sort of fire. Javik … Shepard sighed … Javik just wanted to find something to kill. She fought down a broad, unkind grin. Mechs must have proven such a disappointing enemy to the avatar of jackassery .
"Down girl," she muttered to Tashac as the vitriol threatened to escalate. "You did have three children with the gasin." She caught Al watching her and shrugged off her odd behaviour. Shivering again, she wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her armour as if it actually affected the chill.
She turned to look over the deserted settlement and nudged him with her elbow. "Well, if you're leaving me, I guess we need to find you some transport off this rock." She nodded toward the spaceport where the shuttle waited to return her to her brand new ship. She didn't know how she felt about that yet. The SR2 still needed a name; bad luck to sail a boat with no name.
She strode toward the line of now ownerless ships, her limp heavy. No need to act when she felt as though she lurched across a field of javelins, crashing through and impaling herself with every step.
"It felt good to be fighting again," the torin said, his voice low but filled with rediscovery. "No implants, no ridiculous, overpowered strength or reflexes, just my muscle, bone, and biotics." He chuckled. "And my gun." He glanced over at her, his rheumy eyes brighter than she'd seen them, the broken and shadowed planes of his face far less hollow-looking. He'd be okay.
"Pain … so many in pain … separated … alone. The many never meant to be alone."
Shepard stopped and turned a small circle. "Did you hear that?" she whispered, one hand drifting up to press against her temple. A sharp splinter of pain stabbed into both temples and the base of her skull. Wincing away from the agony that made it through her shot of painkillers, she sent thanks to the makers of the miraculous meds. Without them, it would have driven her to her knees.
Al's mandibles fluttered, distressed, and he nodded as he blinked rapidly. "I heard something. Couldn't make it out."
"The black thrall rises," the many voices spoke in one voice. "It's touched you … the pain … so much pain, but you fought it!" The joy in the last burst within Shepard's chest, the ferocity of it nearly as painful as the icepicks in the brain. "You broke free."
She turned toward the canal, and beyond that the cliffs of stone. "It's … I think it's coming from … ." Shepard walked toward the canal, the snow swirling around her, pulling in tighter and thicker with each step until she had to squint, an arm held in front of her eyes. The snow impacted like tiny rocks rather than ice, cold, but they didn't melt upon touching her skin.
"What's going on?" She stopped, and stumbling back a couple of steps as the world ahead of her shifted … changed into another location entirely. She held a hand out behind her. "Al?" His fingers closed around hers, and she felt him stiffen, his grip tightening until her knuckles ground together. Shepard blinked a couple of times, but the view didn't change. Instead of the sheer grey-black walls of the quarry she saw snow banked against rock cliffs, glittering like a pile of diamonds.
"Help … please." The voice seemed to come from the snow, but she didn't hear it, it appeared in her mind.
"Come out. Let me see you," she called, wincing as the wind picked up, pelting her with the impossibly hard flakes.
"We are here. Come, please."
Al's hand pulled at her, leading her on, his wonder as palpable as the dread curling through her gut. Far too many different forces, none of them kind, had played around in her head. Shepard followed, hesitant and slow, unable to see outside the squall that swirled around her. Images flashed through her mind …
… Banks of snow glistening on a hundred planets …
… salt mines, abandoned for longer than the human race had existed …
… caves filled with crystal glistening in a thousand hues … .
All of them whispered softly, hundreds, thousands, hundreds of thousands of tiny voices … voices so small that alone they didn't even form thought.
Shepard stopped and pulled back hard against Al's hand, pressing the other over her eyes to block out the dizzying swirl of glinting madness. Frustration and sadness welled up as she covered her vision. It wasn't hers, and she shoved it away. No! No one and nothing was allowed to possess her … not anymore.
"I don't understand," she shouted. "What are you trying to tell me?" She could feel the crystalline storm pick up fury at her inability to understand. What she knew could not be snowflakes pelted her with enough force to pierce the sealant over her wounds, embedding themselves into her flesh.
"Stop!" she screamed out loud, yanking free of Al to cover her face with both arms. And then he wrapped around her, using his cloak to shelter her. She leaned into him, dizzy and weak … her face feeling as though it were on fire.
"You must help! You broke the darkness. You defeated the old masters." The voices moaned softly as if trying to find a way to answer her question. "Picture. Reach," they said at last. "Please. Reach across."
The image of her omnitool formed in her mind as she reached, trying to do as they asked. After all, its translation program was what made communicating with most members of the other races possible. The voices sang with joy and a sense of purpose, as if she'd finally given them a way to breach the gap. The tempest died away, leaving her breathless and deaf. After a few seconds, Al eased back to reveal that the whirlwind of snow had stopped as well.
Shepard let her arms drop, her right feeling heavier than before. Looking down, she let out a soft, startled gasp. "Al?"
"Shepard," he answered, his voice high and tight. "Look down." He backed away from her a little, his entire physicality changing from careful, pained swagger to tightrope walker on a windy day.
His sudden alarm snapped her attention away from her arm to look at the ground … there was no ground beneath their feet. Instead, they both stood on a clear, crystalline walkway halfway over the canal. He turned, his arms reaching out for balance on the narrow ramp. "They were taking us to the mountains," he said, pointing. "Maybe they were trying to show us where they are?"
"Shepard!" Miranda's shout sounded as though it should be followed by, 'Are you getting into trouble, young lady? Just you wait until I tell your father what you've been up to'.
Shepard ignored the operative and held up her arm. "It gets weirder. When it told me to reach across … to understand them, I thought of my omnitool … of how it allows me to communicate." She stared at the wide, thick band of the same clear, crystalline material that made up the walkway. "Look at this." Without waiting for him to turn back, she reached up with her other hand to touch it. It was as smooth and solid as diamond.
"Shepard, we have incoming Alliance ships," Steve called on her comms. "Good news is, we have comms back. Bad news is, we've got a very short window to get out of town before the law moves in."
Shepard cursed and then raised her hand to her radio. Too many mysteries remained unsolved. What had created the ramp and the thing on her arm? And how? Damn it, and now she had to run. She hated running. Opening the channel, she grumbled, "Understood, LT. We're on our way back."
She looked up at Al, but before she could speak, his hand closed on her shoulder. "Go," he said, his eyes locking on hers. "I'm going to follow the leads in those visions we saw. I know that salt mine. Maybe I can figure out what the voices want. I'll keep in touch."
Shepard reached out to take his hand. "Thank you for everything." She backed away a step. "Take care of yourself. No more dying and being captured by renegade organizations." A teasing grin accompanied the warning.
His mandibles flicked. "Same goes for you." He nodded toward Miranda. "Better go before Dr. Frankenstein loses her temper."
Shepard turned away and limped along the few metres of the ramp, hurrying into an uneven jog once she hit solid ground. The rest of the squad were already belted into their seats when she stepped up and turned back, raising a hand to wave good-bye.
Al just nodded and headed down the length of the spaceport toward a small personal yacht.
"What's that on your arm?" Miranda asked, her omnitool flaring to life.
Shepard sat next to Jack and shrugged. "I have no idea. It just appeared there when the snow squall died down."
"Fuck, what happened to your face?" Jack asked, reaching over to poke at Shepard's cheek. "It's hard, and sorta cool. Looks like you've got diamond cybernetics or something."
Shepard pulled away. "Don't poke my face." She softened the words with a grin. "You just want to pick them out and sell them."
Jack chuckled and relaxed back into her seat. "Hell, yeah."
"I"m going to need to run full scans before I can let that onto the ship," Miranda said. "It could be a serious quarantine issue." She leaned forward, her scans already running.
Shepard slouched into her seat and leaned her head back to rest along the ledge. "I'm okay with that. I feel beat to hell and intend to sleep all the way back to the ship." She closed her eyes, pain, fatigue, and a vague sort of loneliness working their way through her body, termites, eroding even her concern about the band of crystal wrapped around her arm. Unlike the pieces embedded in her face, the arm didn't hurt, so that pushed it down the priority list considerably.
Jack nudged Shepard awake when they touched down in the shuttle bay. "Up and at'em, Sleeping Beauty," the biotic called. She grinned as she unbuckled her harness. "Thanks for the amp, by the way."
Shepard nodded, but didn't stand. "You going to stick around, help me kick some Collector ass?" She watched the volatile young woman through narrow eyes. "I could use someone with your skills."
"There were what … a million people living there? Moms and dads and kids?" Jack clenched her teeth, her jaw standing out. "Hell, yeah, I'll help you kill every damned one of those bastards." She hopped down off the shuttle then twisted to look back. "But just so we're all clear … I'm here for you, Shepard, not the cheerleader princess over there." The biotic met Shepard's nod of agreement with one of her own, then strode, loose and lazy, toward the elevator. "Oh, by the way, Barbie … I like the armour. I almost forgot you were a corporate whore."
Shepard held up a hand, asking Miranda for forbearance. "Just let it go, although I have to agree, it's good to see you dressed in the uniform." Again, she softened the words, but that time with a starched nod. "As loathe as I am to restrict your personal freedoms, I'd appreciate your sticking to the uniform code while on board. As my XO, you need to set the example for the crew."
Miranda nodded. "Understood, Captain." She let out a long breath and deactivated her omnitool. "As for the material on your face and arm … it reads inert. Crystallized carbon and free of contaminants. We'll still need to examine it further."
Raising her arm, Shepard poked at the band. "What I want to know is how I'm going to get it off."
"Captain," Liara said, drawing Shepard's attention for the first time since the surface. The asari held out the box, her face drawn into a squeamish scowl. "It's buzzing." Pushing the box into Shepard's chest, she waited until Shepard's hands closed around it, then hurried off the shuttle.
"We need a scientist," Shepard sighed, pushing herself up. "And a damned good one … if not a whole team of them." Every joint in her body felt as though someone had filled them with ground up glass. Stretching eased the aches a little, but she still clung to the side of the shuttle as she eased herself down to the deck.
"We had a dossier on a brilliant salarian scientist." Miranda stepped down, taking the same amount of care. "His name was Mordin Solus, but … ."
A heavy scowl pulled Shepard's brow down low over her eyes. "I know that name. Runs a clinic on Omega." The scowl deepened as she searched for context and found none. "I can't remember how I know him." An image of girls posed like statues amidst flowers and foliage drew the connection. "Oh! He helped Dr. Chakwas triage and treat Donovan Hock's victims." She nodded. "Oh yeah, he's good." She started toward the lift up to the crew deck. "Is he still on Omega?"
Miranda's expression twitched just a little, but enough that Shepard read complications there. "He's been recruited by Archangel, that organization Dr. T'Soni mentioned. I doubt he's available to assist us."
Shepard shrugged. "Liara said Archangel is working to prepare for the Reapers." Holding out her hands, she turned a small circle. "I don't know if you noticed, Miranda, but we're a small crew on a frigate, and we're up against some pretty damned tough enemies. We're going to need allies." She pressed the elevator control. keeping a surreptitious eye on Miranda as they waited. The idea of a large force … one not attached to the council … how could she pass that up? A warm, solid feeling spread through her, soothing her earlier panic. Even the name of the organization struck something inside her.
Yeah, they'd head to Omega and introduce themselves to Archangel and see if they couldn't find some allies for the long, dark battle ahead.
After nearly a minute, the operative nodded, but she needn't have. Shepard had already plotted their course.
§§§
A-N: So here it is … the 100th chapter. Curious Canvas made me some lovely art, but it will be a spoiler, so I am going to hold it back for a couple of chapters. The big celebration will be posted tomorrow … it's a little crazy, but was a lot of fun to write. It is a cast reunion, everyone and me gathered together to talk about the first 100 chapters. So, if you have any questions for the characters, send them on and I'll include them.
I hate asking for reviews, but since it is the 100th chapter, and I know a lot of you have been here for a long time, following this story, I really would love to hear from you. Doesn't need to be anything huge … even just a hi!
And thank you. Really … thank you all so much for sticking with me and these characters for the past 18 months. *raises a glass* Here's to all of you … and here's to finishing the adventure! *hugs*