Stabata - a long, narrow, nine stringed instrument strummed with both hands. Due to its many resonance chambers, and the movable flanges within, it is capable of intricate sympathetic harmonics similar to turian subvocals.
Drellak - Tall, relatively slender four legged herd animals weighing approximately 300 kilos.
27 Days ASR
Nihlus found very few methods of waking up as obnoxious as his comms chiming in his ear. It never failed to intrude upon his dreams in insidious ways, or cause dreams to form around it. In those, he spent an inordinate amount of time searching for the cause of the annoying pinging, just to wake shaking with frustration. They were worse than his dreams about searching for a clean, functional lavatory.
That particular incoming call grabbed him by the fringe and ripped him from a nightmare, heart pounding, sweat prickling along his throat and belly. He answered the call, grateful for its intrusion. Damn nightmares. She'd come back. Why did he still have to watch her die every time he closed his eyes?
"Kryik here." He winced at the blue threads of panic that remained tangled in his subvocals.
"Hey there, sleepyhead," Shepard replied, then yawned, coaxing one out of him.
He rolled over onto his back and stuffed all his pillows under his head. "Hey yourself. How are things going out there?"
Her voice came through dull and slurred with exhaustion but resolute. "Fine. I think we so completely obliterated the Blood Pack that they're going to consider Omega a plague ship for several generations." He closed his eyes, able to see her cheeky grin, slanted with weariness … the cocked eyebrow. "Krogan ones." She yawned in answer to another from him, then chuckled and said, "Stop that, I'm at least fifteen hours from being able to collapse." She sucked a long breath in through her nose, one of her tells that she was bracing herself. "How are things back there?"
He knew what she meant. "Garrus is still in surgery. They got him mostly stabilized and then took a break to let him gain strength and for them to get some sleep. I went up to check on him, but they kept him out." He sighed and stretched, arms and legs extended to the point his entire body vibrated with it. "When they went back, they scrubbed a couple of geth in to help. Apparently they're going to need to do quite a lot of cybernetic repair."
Shepard just hummed a soft reply.
"He's stable, Jane." Even though he knew he didn't have to, he added, "Just focus on getting back here." He wished he was sitting on the ground next to her, back pressed against a planter or column … somewhere with a good sightlines … a bottle of water in one hand, sandwich in the other. They didn't need to talk, just sit shoulder to shoulder. Well, shoulder to arm, anyway.
Or even better, despite the impossibility, he wished she were there, safe and warm, lying next to him.
The oddly full silence of the open channel answered him for long seconds, her voice barely loud enough to hear when she finally spoke. "He told me not to come back."
Nihlus chuffed, trying for a lightness that belied the sympathetic ache that resonated through his bones, her tone plucking his strings like talons playing a stabata. "He really should know better. The easiest way to ensure Jane Shepard will do something is to tell her not to." He closed his eyes, his head heavy as it sank into his pillows. After just listening to her breathe for a few seconds, he asked, "Jane? Are you sure you're all right? You know he'll come around."
"Yeah, I'm fine, just tired." Another pause. "We're about … I don't know … a third of the way through what used to be the Blue Suns' camp. We should be back in fifteen hours. Depends how many more prisoners we pick up. We're running out of zip ties and water. I might have to send a squad back with our little chain gang."
"Zip ties?" He laughed, the detail surprising him. "Where did you find zip ties?"
"The gardening shed in the basement. Whole bag of them." He heard her head thump against whatever was behind her. She asked, "Is the base secure? Fighting all wrapped up?"
He smiled. Right to business. Always to business when personal got uncomfortable. He closed his eyes, conjuring the feeling of her lips pressed against his mouth, wishing he could kiss her and keep her from throwing up the walls. Instead, he answered the question. "Yes, for hours now. We ran a few quick area recon sweeps, but just found a lot of busted up mechs and dead mercs." He rolled onto his side and leaned up on his elbow, his voice softening to a plea. "Come in, Jane. You all need to rest."
"We will." Her tone softened to caress along his. "I just need to let the Reapers and the council know in no uncertain terms that Jane Shepard is not only alive, she's going to tear them into little chunks and serve them to the krogan on toast."
"Damn it, Shepard," Wrex bellowed in the background, "haven't the krogan suffered enough?"
Nihlus grinned and shook his head. Leave it to Wrex to shatter the moment.
Something heavy hit next to Shepard, then slid, metal screeching against metal. "Say hi to Nihlus for me," Martin said then groaned. "You're going to have to carry me the rest of the way, Shepard. I can't go on."
"Sit up, kid. You're crushing me." Turning her attention back to Nihlus, she said, "We'll be back before … what time is it? We'll be back before supper. Check in if there are any developments with the general." She let out a long, weary breathe. "Go back to sleep, and we'll see you later."
"Okay. Be careful out there." He let out a half sigh, half chuckle at the faint scoffing sound that answered his charge. "I really should know better than to ask that by now. Just get back here in mostly one piece."
"I will. Shepard, out."
Nihlus flopped back onto the mattress, readjusting his pillows to cradle his head. He closed his eyes, letting the broken music of her voice whisper through his head, savouring every word. Checking his chrono, he saw that he'd been asleep just over three hours. Every inch of him assured him that he needed at least a couple more hours. Every part except his head and his heart. They insisted that he not sleep until Shepard slept. His body led a rebellion, forcing his eyes closed and adding weights to his limbs.
The rebellion died after a scant twenty minutes of lying there, visualizing the conditions out in the camps, wondering how badly damaged the base was, and how to dispose of thousands of bodies before they began to really foul the nest. He threw back the covers and swung his legs over the side. A shower would have to do in lieu of sleep.
Marcie and the kitchen staff already had the kitchen and dining areas in order when he made his way to the ground floor. Fantastic smells wove through the stench, coaxing him to eat. Not that his belly required much convincing. The moment it smelled frying strips of drellak roast it began to roar and bark like a pack of varren.
"Good morning, Nihlus," Marcie called, passing him a tray. "Get any sleep?" The plump, motherly human leaned back against the counter and watched him pile up a healthy serving of breakfast.
"Three hours or so." He flicked his mandibles, a bashful sort of smile. After a moment, he stopped and looked at the matron. "Shepard's platoon won't be back for another fifteen hours, but they might be sending in prisoners. Do you think you could make some high energy food for them?" Brow plates pulling down low, he strained through two cycles to recall what it was Shepard had eaten all the time. "Shepard likes … peanuts? No … close, but it's sticky and pasty."
Marcie chuckled. "Peanut butter?" When he answered with a nod, she turned to the cupboards. "I'll make up a big batch of peanut butter cookies, and some of those cookies that cause wars amongst the turians when I make them. We can send those back to help get them through."
"Thank you," Nihlus replied, the weight in his gut easing as he imagined Shepard's reaction to the cookies. She enjoyed her sweets. He reached out to pat Marcie's shoulder, snatching his hand back when she jumped. "Sorry." Normally not one for touching people, he backed away, embarrassed. "I'm sure they'll appreciate that." After an awkward nod, he fled to the closest table and sat to eat.
Between his body thinking he'd tried to starve it to death over the past few days and worrying about the details of how to keep Archangel running while Garrus convalesced, Nihlus finished his breakfast without even really tasting it. One moment, his tray was full; the next, empty. At least the varren pack had gone silent.
He headed up to the lounge, the room empty but for the few snipers on watch. Pushing through the quiet, he felt it cling to him, funerary and cloying. Blood, soot, and death whispered through the silence, insistent and very present despite the room having been scrubbed and tidied. The three guards all leaped up when he began tearing down the median half of his sniper blind. When no attack materialized, they settled back into their positions, looking mortified for having been caught nodding off.
"Go lie down," Nihlus ordered, tossing a careless gesture at the cots set up at the far end of the room. "I've got the wall for now." He tipped his head a little in answer to their thanks, then turned to look out over the remains of Kima District.
Silence continued to whisper through the emptiness, shrouding the base in the uneasy, haunted pall of an ancient ruin. Archangel had lost just over a third of their defenders in the fighting. Of course, that number became disgustingly irrelevant when compared to how many Shepard had saved and how many she'd killed. That burden wouldn't sit easily on her shoulders. No doubt a good portion of her insistence on completely searching out the enemy bases stemmed from guilt. She needed to look at what she'd caused, save who she could, and try to come to peace with the slaughter. That it had been necessary wouldn't be enough to shut up the voice in her head.
A small squad of turian external forces exited the elevator behind him, speaking to each other in the closed dialect. Most of General Victus's people had already returned to their ships to sleep. The general, however, had accepted Nihlus's invitation to remain at the base and was, no doubt, fast asleep in Garrus's bed at the other end of the hall.
The sharp, efficient clip of heels on the tile alerted him to another presence approaching from behind. He didn't turn, already guessing the person's identity.
"Spectre Kryik," the Cerberus operative called out upon crossing the threshold. "My people have informed me that Captain Shepard is away from the base?" Her tone battered at him, strident, clipped, and businesslike.
He nodded, keeping his back to her. "She is clearing out the remaining mercenary forces." Glancing at his chrono, he shrugged. "She checked in about an hour ago, and expects to return in time for the evening meal."
The operative made a sound that clearly expressed how unacceptable she found the entire situation. She strode to the balcony and paced along the low wall, her stare riveted on the other side of the bridge. "She should have waited for me to finish treatment. I told Dr. Chakwas that I didn't need to … ."
His mandibles fluttered a little, a faint expression of amusement as he watched the complete stranger ranting, mostly to herself.
She spun to face him, her feet braced shoulder width apart, arms crossed. "I amuse you?"
He shrugged. "No, but you being able to tell that I was amused surprises me. Cerberus doesn't have a reputation for being able to see beyond humanity." Keeping an eye on her in the periphery of his vision, he returned to his watch.
She gave him a clipped nod. "As Shepard's XO, I knew I would be interacting with turians and other races on an ongoing basis. I like to be prepared." Pivoting on her toe, she resumed her pacing.
Nihlus raised a brow plate, surprised again. "So, is this genuine concern for Shepard's well being?" he asked, letting all his scepticism bleed through his voice. Just because he hadn't been able to guess Cerberus's game, didn't mean they weren't running one.
The woman brushed her hair back off her face, then absently tugged out the tie holding it back, and gathered it all together. He watched, fascinated by her fingers and how they managed to contain all the strands, tying it into a tight tail high on her head. How humans managed five digits and hair baffled him at the best of times. Combine them … forget it. Patting her work, Miranda let out a vague hum of satisfaction and glanced his way. "Of course I am. My organization spent over four billion credits to bring Shepard back from the dead. She's a vital and valuable asset."
Distracted by her hair wrangling, it took Nihlus a moment to even remember what he'd asked. Oh, right … caring about Shepard's welfare. A sharp bark of laughter escaped before the Spectre nailed down his surprise at her answer. "Really? That's how you're going to play it?" He hoisted his armour up his shoulders, settling it a little more comfortably as he shrugged. "If she gets herself really, really dead this time, you'll be out of pocket?" He shook his head and let out a heavy chuff as he looked back out over the bridge.
The operative stepped up beside him, staying a careful distance away, and folded her arms, her hands cupping her elbows. Her jaw clenched and relaxed over a half dozen times, betraying the silent war going on inside her before she asked, "What do you mean?"
Surprise drew his head back and flared his mandibles. Surely they must have had some idea of who they'd brought back. He laughed, cold and hard with a covetous edge that he savoured. The arrogance. They just thought they could resurrect Shepard and dance her around like a puppet. "Do you know anything at all about Jane Shepard?"
The woman bristled. "I have detailed files." Her back arched a little, shoulders rolling back. "I know she can be difficult, but once she realizes that we're working toward the same goals … ."
Nihlus shook his head and turned away. "She will never realize that you're working toward the same goals, because you aren't." He leaned against the table beside him and crossed his arms, his sniper rifle cradled against his keel. "She refused to let me leave the Normandy alone our first mission. Felt I endangered her squad, and she was prepared to get the crap beaten out of her to make her point."
He glanced her way, dropping his brow plates low over his eyes, putting up a clear barrier of loved friend versus hostile stranger between them. He saw it register and allowed himself a small grin. Miranda Lawson might be owed some thanks for bringing Shepard back to them, but he wouldn't allow her any claim to ownership. He raised a brow plate to emphasize his point before continuing, "After Saren shot me, Shepard just kept hammering at me … antagonizing me until I almost hauled off and dropped her."
Another harsh chuff greeted the memory of that day. "Spirits, she truly can be the most impossible, annoying being in the galaxy." He shifted a little, rocking on his talons. "Took me nearly a week to realize what she was doing, and it really had nothing to do with getting a rise out of me. She was keeping me out of my head … distracting me. In her own, aggravating way, she was taking care of me. The important thing to know about Shepard is that she is a protector … a caretaker."
Miranda scoffed. "I assure you, she harbours no urge whatsoever to take care of me." She dropped her arms for a second, then slammed them right back over her chest—gates locking down tight.
Nihlus nodded toward the large black mark on her face, just managing to hold back his smirk. "That might be true. She hit you good and damned hard, but … she didn't shoot you. If you pulled that crap on me, I'd have shot you." He settled his rifle under one arm and opened his omnitool. "I'm sending you a list of people. I need you to have a look at their departments and skills, and assign them into teams to assess the damage to the base. I need them to submit reports on the actual damage and the cost to repair. I also need cleanup crews organized and supervised. That includes body disposal, but before the Archangel personnel are disposed of, we need their belongings collected and catalogued for their next of kin."
Miranda Lawson spun to face him, hip cocked, her right thumb hooking into her low slung belt. "Excuse me? I'm not a recruit." Try as she might to keep her face cool and expressionless, the haughtier-than-thou that Shepard warned him about kept peeking through the cracks.
He nodded. "And you're free to return to you ship. But if you stay here, we could use the help of someone with organization skills, and Shepard assured me you'd be eager to help." Brow plates raised, he stared her square in the eye, challenging her.
Without relaxing even one hair, she opened her omnitool and sent him her information. "Forward the files." When the chime announced their receipt, she headed for the door. "I'll have a preliminary report for you within the hour."
Nihlus watched her cross the room, but when she reached the door, he called after her, "Operative Lawson." She stopped but didn't turn. Amusement tweaked his mandibles again. Damn, Lawson was strung so tight that Shepard must have far too much fun torturing her. "Your mistake was not making her family." He nodded when she glanced back. "That's what she does … what she did on the Normandy … what she's done with the rest of your people." He turned back toward the bridge, his eyes searching the rubble on the far side for that familiar face. "She's back with her family now. Don't expect her to stay with you."
A few seconds passed before he heard her heels clipping down the hall and then the stairs. He alerted to the sound of gunfire, but it remained distant … a couple of blocks away, at least. He glanced at his chrono. Shepard didn't expect to be back for another thirteen hours at least. Spirits, had it only been two since he awoke?
A soft chuff rolled from his throat. He'd never been very good at waiting.
"Nihlus?" Dr. Chakwas called on his comms.
His pulse sped up, thumping against the front of his cowl. Finally. "Go ahead, Doctor."
"We moved Garrus to recovery five minutes ago," the doctor reported, her voice betraying both her exhaustion and her relief. "He's been removed from all life support equipment, and is holding his own very well. He should regain consciousness in the next hour or two."
"And his recovery? Will he be … ?" How did he ask if his fratrin would be returned to them whole or if he wouldn't be the torin he was? Even thinking the question made him feel like a bastard.
"I believe he will recover fully. We were able to keep the cranial swelling to a minimum, and all his scans and tests look promising." She paused. "As to the matter of Captain Shepard … when she returns to the base, have her report to me."
"You can prove she's not a clone or some sort of AI puppet programmed to believe it's Shepard?" Spirits, he hoped she could. He didn't need it—Tashac had answered without hesitation—but the rest of the galaxy would demand proof.
"Eliminating cloning is easy. There are some cells in the body that age along with us, the cells in the lens of our eyes, female oocytes, and the cerebral cortex for example. I doubt her brain will be a good candidate, since a great deal of it will be cloned and regrown tissue, but the rest … should all be her calendar age. A clone's cells would be as old as they are. The rest … well, let's run the tests and see." She paused. "Do you believe it's her?"
Nihlus grinned as he heard a small, frantic firefight break out a block or so away. "I know it's her, Doctor. Thank you for the update."
"I'll have the nurses let you know when the general wakes. Chakwas, out."
Nihlus closed the channel then lifted his eyes to Kima District, listening to the music of battle. Her music. Of course he knew it was Shepard, Tashac or no. He'd known the moment she refused to leave his people before they were safe on the other side of that gate on Freedom's Progress. And now … could anyone else have wreaked such complete havoc when outnumbered a thousand to one? No. A slow smile spread across his face as he closed his eyes, able to feel her out there. Somehow the universe had answered all his drunken pleas and sweat-soaked, shaking prayers. The darkness must have heard him when he woke from the nightmares of watching her die yet again.
"Omega merc extermination services to Archangel base. Incoming prison bus," Shepard's voice called in his ear, alerting him to the fact that the gunfire had stopped. "We're overloaded here, so I'm sending Wrex and the worn out members of the platoon back with the prisoners. ETA ten minutes or so. They'll be coming straight down the street, so maybe keep some sniper rifles on them."
Nihlus opened the channel and lifted his sniper rifle to his shoulder, using the scope to see down the street. "Roger that. It sounded like you found a pocket of fighters."
"Pft," she scoffed. "Pocket of pansies hiding from the fighting. Apparently they took refuge in this penthouse when the mechs started their little VI insurrection. They thought the AI armageddon had begun." She laughed, but damn, it sounded as if she'd just spent half her remaining energy to get it out. "We've got two more buildings to clear over here, then the Eclipse base and then bed. All the bed."
'Understood. Dr. Chakwas just let me know that Garrus is out of surgery and doing well. She wants you to report to her as soon as you come in."
"Roger that. As long as it involves a shower and the all you can sleep buffet, I'm in." She let out a long, heavy sigh, and when she continued, her voice came through soft and hesitant. "You'll keep an eye on the big guy for me?"
"I will. Just get back here. You sound like you're ready to fall over." He waited a moment for her to reply. "Jane?"
A softer, lighter sigh answered him. "I wish I could sit down for fifteen minutes and just listen to you." She chuckled, a gentle throaty sound that warmed him through. "It's strange to realize how much you missed something you didn't even remember." She cleared her throat before he could answer. "Okay, keep an eye out for our prisoners. They should be hitting the street about now, and the guards accompanying them are falling down tired."
"Will do. I'll be in touch when they arrive. Kryik, out." He closed the channel and watched the street. The prisoners all looked pretty subdued with Wrex looming over them, and shuffled along without giving their escort any trouble. Lowering his rifle a little, Nihlus called for guards to meet Wrex at the front door and escort the prisoners to the makeshift holding cells.
Ten minutes later, the krogan stomped into the lounge, collapsing onto the half-destroyed couch. "Can you get together a fresh squad?" he asked without any sort of preamble or pleasantries. "They're all tired as hell out there. Some fresh blood to do most of the leg work would help."
Nihlus nodded. "You'll have them. The matron downstairs is baking them some sweets that you can take back with you." He studied the clan chief. Wrex's exhaustion showed, but Nihlus couldn't remember seeing the battlemaster ever look happier. "How's she doing?" he asked, hating the way that Wrex closed off at the question.
"She's a fighter, as tough and smart as she ever was." Wrex bristled, leaning forward, his shoulders expanding defensively. "You think she's a fake, too?" He pushed up off the couch.
Nihlus shook his head. "I have no doubts about her at all. Just concerned. They brought her back from the dead, and she looks like hell, Wrex." He turned back toward the street, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. "I just … well, just take care of her out there."
"Ha!" Wrex thumped him on the shoulder. "Still sweet on her." The behemoth chuckled and shook his head. "I'll watch out for her." He sniffed the air. "I smell cookies. See you later." He lumbered from the room a lot faster than he entered. "Hey! Marcie, are those cookies ready?"
Twenty minutes later, Wrex, Butler, twenty fresh Archangel recruits, and a large container of cookies headed out to meet up with Shepard. Judging by the sporadic gunfire, she'd moved on to clearing another building.
The day passed quickly once the rest of the base dragged themselves out of bed. Operative Lawson proved her organizational skills: damage reports flowed in by noon, and clean up crews set to work shortly thereafter. By mid-afternoon the body disposal teams rolled in to start disposing of the merc corpses, the entire base thrumming with positive energy. The ugly part over, the mourning not truly begun, they all threw themselves into putting their lives back in order the best they could.
Nihlus remained on watch at the balcony, catching sight of Shepard and her teams sporadically as they fanned out through the remaining Blue Suns' camp and then crossed the street to sweep down through the Eclipse buildings. No matter how thorough her search, Shepard couldn't hope to track down all the mercs. A few would escape, but he knew she counted on the stragglers to spread the word of how brutal and inventive the resurrected Captain Jane Shepard had been in destroying Archangel's enemies. It wouldn't stop the council and the Collectors from trying again, but hopefully it bought them a little time to find a way to take out those Collector ships.
At last, just when the scent of cooking began to drift over the inner balcony, Shepard emerged from the building closest to the bridge and looked up at him. She waved, then opened a channel over the comms.
"We're on our way in. Just going to—" She stiffened and turned to her right. After searching around for a couple of seconds, she knelt next to a huge chunk of fallen building.
The sound of rubble being tossed aside rumbled and crackled in Nihlus's ear before he heard a male voice, faint and heavy with pain, "Guess I know who our inside man was, hey Short Stack?"
"Yeah," Shepard replied, "sorry about that, sir, but I couldn't let you take out the good guys." More thumping and banging. "This doesn't look good, but we can't just leave you under that thing. Do you have feeling anywhere?"
"That leg has been pretty dead for hours, the rest seems not too bad."
He saw Shepard pop up. "Wrex! I could use you and your krogan over here for a second." She disappeared again. "These guys will get you out of here." A little more scuffling, then she addressed Nihlus again. "Nihlus, we're coming in. Looks like we could use a stretcher at the front door."
"Roger that. Kryik out." He messaged the hospital, then got up and headed downstairs. As he strode through the lobby, he called, "Wimak, keep an eye on the bridge. East sniper perch."
The batarian jumped up off the couch and ran up the stairs as if demons were chasing him. Nihlus chuckled and shook his head. Recruits.
Picking his way across the rubble-strewn bridge, Nihlus realized that they'd have to get the body disposal crews in immediately, the stink of death and all its associated indignities already beginning to reach a nauseating level. He steeled himself against the all too familiar stench and waded in. He found Shepard still crouched behind the fallen corner column.
"Need a hand?" he asked, chuckling a little as she jumped. He hadn't been the least bit quiet in his approach, so he suspected that she'd fallen asleep even crouched as she was.
The smile that answered him grabbed his heart and twisted it. "Yeah. Wrex and his warriors are looking for something to act as a lever, see if we can't lift this enough to slide Captain Burgess here out."
"Shepard!" Wrex called, striding toward them with an metal beam under one arm. "This should work." The krogan nodded at Nihlus then toward Shepard.
Catching the hint, Nihlus slipped a hand under Shepard's arm. "The best thing we can do is get out of the way." Once he helped her stand, he wrapped an arm around her waist and led her off to the side.
Letting out more than a few roars and bellows, the krogan managed to move the chunk of building enough to remove the Eclipse captain. Wrex picked up the human, carrying him like a child, and looked to Shepard. "Can we finally end this endless damned day?"
She chuckled and nodded. "We can, glory hallelujah." Leaning heavily into Nihlus, she looked up into his eyes. "Give a girl a hand, Spectre Kryik?"
When he nodded, she wrapped an arm around him, that gentle pressure setting his heart pounding. He knew what Garrus would say about his belief in Shepard. He'd say that Nihlus just wanted it to be true so badly he was willing to accept anything as evidence. As his entire body sang, revelling in Shepard's presence, he couldn't have said that Garrus was wrong.
He led Shepard up to the lounge, pausing only to grab her a bottle of soda and a couple of cookies. When he moved to help her sit on the unexploded end of the couch, she refused, sitting on the arm instead.
"If I get that far down, you'll have to get Wrex's team in to get me up," she said, groaning softly as she lowered her weight onto the leather. "Oh, yeah. That works." She met his eyes and smiled. "Hi," she said, chuckling softly.
"Hi." He leaned back against the wall of the inner balcony. "Once you eat those, we should run you through a shower and get you upstairs. I don't think we should wait on getting your identity verified." Watching her with eager, starved eyes, he found himself grinning as she bit off half a cookie and washed it down with almost the entire bottle of soda. She wolfed her food down, just as she always had. A habit shared by every human soldier he'd ever met.
"Captain," Miranda Lawson called, striding into the room. "Back in one piece, I see." The operative hurried over and activated her omnitool. "You've worn yourself—"
Shepard slapped the omnitool out of her face. "Miranda, go stand somewhere … else. I just want to eat my cookies, drink my orange soda, and wash the last two days off my skin. You can make yourself useful ensuring that Vincent, Jack, and the others get back to the ship and are well looked after." She upended the bottle of soda, finishing it off in three gulps. A decent burp rolled up afterward. "Excuse me. Anyway, the others have been through hell, and I'd appreciate you seeing that they all got a really great meal and then as much sleep as they need."
Miranda opened her mouth to reply, but the young batarian recruit, Wimak, turned from the window and called, "Spectre Kryik, sir, Captain Anderson just arrived in a shuttle."
"Thank you." Nihlus nodded, but didn't take his eyes off Shepard, who had paled a little, her eyes latching onto his, a spirit in the pits of buratrum catching hold of a beam of light. He met her nerves with a strong, reassuring smile. Surely she didn't have anything to worry about. Anderson loved her, considered himself her father, everything would be okay.
A smile struggled to force itself across her lips, but he could see the toll her reunion with Garrus had taken as the smile trembled then shattered when Anderson's voice echoed up from below. "Where is she?"
Damn. The captain's yell resonated with several things, but none of them were love or acceptance. Nihlus drew closer to Shepard, drawn in by all the pieces missing from her gaze. The woman before him was Jane Shepard, he knew that as surely as he knew anything, but despite restoring Shepard's pulse, breathing, and memories, death had claimed big pieces of the woman he'd known … pieces Cerberus hadn't brought back from the void.
As tough as she remained, Nihlus felt a fragility flickering just beneath, sunlight shrinking between the leaves. He stepped up just behind her right shoulder, his hand brushing the back of her arm just to reassure her that he had her back.
Anderson strode into the room, stopping dead in his tracks as his hard, searching gaze landed on Shepard. Nothing welcoming awaited her there, but neither did Nihlus see anything furious or accusatory. The captain's stare just moved over her as if she were a piece of furniture.
"Anderson!" She jumped up and took two steps. Her boots squeaked to a halt as he jerked back from her, his hands lifting defensively. She extended a hand a couple of inches, her tone soft and pleading when she said, "Anderson?"
The captain edged around her without speaking a word, moving as if he expected that tiny body to erupt into a Reaper. Once clear, he stormed over to face down Miranda. Very real fear ignited behind Nihlus's keel, the threat of violence … the raw pain simmering in Anderson's rage palpable. The Spectre didn't care about Miranda, although he supposed he wouldn't let Anderson kill the woman, but a very real possibility resonated through the room that the captain might just try to put his daughter's doppelganger down.
Nihlus shifted to stand between Shepard and the captain, his talons poised to drop Anderson to the floor if he needed to.
Anderson bulled straight into Miranda's face. "Are you the one responsible for this … this sick joke?" His bellow rang tight with emotion.
For a moment, the captain's clenched fists seemed about to give Lawson a matching black mark on the other side of her face, but then Miranda stepped back, holding herself straight and apparently unintimidated. "It's not a joke, Captain." She nodded toward Shepard as if the entire situation were completely reasonable. "This is Captain Jane Shepard. My organization salvaged her body when it was jettisoned from the Normandy. It took nearly two years … ."
"Two years to do what? Reanimate some puppet?" he roared, his deep voice reverberating off the walls. Nihlus saw that it pummelled Shepard as well, her body jerking as if each echo slammed a fist into her gut. The Spectre opened his mouth to tell Anderson to back off, but the captain's rage erupted again. "Why? What is your angle? What could possibly justify perverting that beautiful child this way?"
Lawson took a deep breath, crossing her arms defensively. "We brought Shepard back because we believe she is our best chance at preparing for and surviving the Reapers, Captain." Nihlus winced as the haughty mask slammed into place. Spirits, Lawson really didn't have a clue how to deal with people.
The Spectre turned a little to keep an eye on Shepard. Her entire body trembled, looking as though even the slightest touch would shatter her completely. He reached out to squeeze her fingers, but she drew away from him, balling her hands into fists.
"Bullshit." Anderson threw his whole body into stabbing another accusatory finger at Shepard. "You didn't even make the copy convincing. Dull, pale … you didn't even bother with her freckles, and you expect us to buy this? She looks like … ." The captain stared at Shepard for long seconds, his mouth trying to form words, eventually spitting out, "... a wax work, and a nightmarish one at that!"
Nihlus's gasp of dismay matched the one that sounded as though it had driven all the air out of Shepard's lungs, and she collapsed around the blow. Anderson's words tossed a spark into the fuel, and Nihlus's control exploded. He threw himself between them, sheltering Shepard with his body even though it could do nothing to block the worst blows. "Anderson! Enough! This is Jane, and she's standing right here. Shock is understandable … so is not believing that she's real, but spirits, you don't have to crush her heart."
Anderson spun, his weapon an invisible one, but Nihlus felt its deadliness nonetheless as it came to bear. "You believe this?" the captain demanded. "You believe that these monsters salvaged her frozen corpse and brought it back to life, soul intact?" He stalked a couple of steps closer, moving sideways to see past Nihlus.
Nihlus compensated, keeping Shepard sheltered behind him. "I do. I don't know how they did it, but they brought her back." He raised his hands, trying to placate the captain enough that he'd stop bludgeoning Shepard. She made a soft, mewling sound that reached down inside him and sank claws into his heart. That time, when he reached behind him for her hand, she clutched it with both of hers, stepping forward to press against his arm.
"She has all the beacon memories, and the knowledge that Amalair translated." He held a hand out to keep the captain back, but also hoping to calm him. "This is Jane."
Anderson drew back, his face twisting into an almost vicious scowl. "And how much have you had to drink?"
Nihlus winced, but drew himself taller and threw up his shields. Let Anderson turn all that bile on him. He'd taken worse and could weather it a hell of a lot better than Shepard. "Nothing for two days."
"This is not Jane. Jane is dead." Anderson emphasized every word by stabbing a finger toward Shepard's chest then spun back to face Miranda. "I don't know what Cerberus's plan is, but I've already contacted Alliance command. Admirals are being sent to investigate, so expect to lose your puppet." He backed toward the door a couple of steps. "As for this desecration … if there is the slightest sign of a VI or an AI, I will put it down myself."
Shepard's hands yanked free of Nihlus's, leaping to her chest, clutching one another over her heart as she turned away from them, frantic, terrified eyes searching the room as if hunting for somewhere to hide. A soft moan escaped before she pressed her fists to her mouth and started backing toward the door.
"Come on." Nihlus turned away from the captain and wrapped his arm around Shepard's shoulders, guiding her from the room. There was no point in letting Anderson cudgel her any longer. Even if it didn't break her, he'd piled up enough to regret once her identity was proven. Shepard didn't resist, shock driving her into a protective shell. Once she had a shower and a chance to rest, she'd pull out of it. He led her into the back of the building, to the only place he knew no one would go looking for her.
When he stepped through the door to his small apartment, Shepard looked around the dim space. Her face remained slack as she asked, "Where are we?"
"My place." Nihlus stepped in front of her, his hands wrapping around her upper arms. "Anderson is just in shock, Shepard. He'll figure it out, and be glad for this … " He shrugged, his mandibles flaring. "... miracle?"
She just stood there, staring at him. One trembling hand reached up, tracing his familia notas with her fingertips. "They always seem to glow in the dim light," she whispered, her stare locking onto his eyes. Deep waves of confusion swirled through the green, tearing up everything in their path. Her voice came out in a sigh so soft, it could have been thought. "Why? Why didn't they just leave me dead?"
"No!" Nihlus yanked her into his arms. "No! Never say that." He held her tight, lifting her feet right off the ground, cradling her in his embrace.
"Did I say that out loud?" she asked, cocking her head a little. After a second, desperation latched onto him again. "Am I just some … thing, Nihlus?"
"Okay." Nihlus let out a long sigh that whistled through his nose. "You took care of me on Freedom's Progress. My turn." He released her, sliding his hands down her arms as he stepped back. Taking her hands, he tugged her toward the bed. "Come on. Let's get you into a shower and then upstairs." He pressed his brow to hers, eyes closing as he willed his strength and belief in her to transfer, buoy her up for just a little longer. "You're okay, Shepard. I've got you."
(A-N: Another milestone this week. Thank you all so much for the support. *hugs and love for all* See you in a few days.)