What's in a Name?

It was an odd feeling, walking through a park that bore your namesake yet wasn't actually named after you.

Or, Scott Ryder reflected, perhaps it wasn't odd at all. Most sapient species had a penchant for naming places after people, and inevitably members of those species would share surnames. Anyone from a John Lincoln to an Azimar Kraxus could work through certain places on Earth or Palaven and find some place that shared their surname. Still, least those places tended to be named after people who were long dead. Last he'd heard, Sara Ryder was very much alive. And Ryder Park, situated on the planet of Meridian, on the outskirts of Port Meridian, was very much named after the second human pathfinder of the Andromeda Initiative. And taking a sip of his beverage, he reflected on two things. One, that he had to make more of an effort to stop that from bothering him. Two, this drink was too warm.

It's always too warm here.

He took a seat and took a breath of the morning air. It smelt wrong. It felt wrong. Meridian was an artificial world, and its makers hadn't made any decision to replicate the seasons of what most species would call a habitable world. The temperature was a constant 28 degrees. Its day/night cycle was exactly 23 hours, 8 minutes, 3 seconds, and 20 milliseconds. It never rained, but the water cycle apparently occurred in some form because the people that had called this planet home were never short of the stuck, or heck, anything. The wind blew, but never too hard, or too cold. Clouds moved across the sky, but xeno-climatologists had discovered that there was even a pattern to them as well. That led to xeno-archeologists to theorize that there was some pattern in that pattern, leading to xeno-psychologists telling them that they were crazy, while xeno-agriculturists just wanted to keep reaping the benefits of this place, and every other person at Port Meridian yelling to stop using the word "xeno" for everything. Meridian was their home. The Heleus Cluster was their home. Only way it would stop being their home was if the kett wiped them out or they boarded one of the two remaining arks and set a course elsewhere. Which, Scott supposed, might solve some problems, but not others. Such as the fact that the adostra he was drinking was still too damn warm.

Also, there were no birds, or bird equivalents. The only sounds to Meridian was that of the sapient species who called it home. It had struck him as bizarre, that the jardaan were capable of bringing entire species into existence, spreading them throughout the cluster, but had left the most beautiful of their worlds so bereft of fauna. Maybe they wanted a controlled environment. Maybe they didn't wish to be surrounded by species other than their own. Maybe they'd never got round to it before Khi Tasira was attacked, and Meridian was ejected into the airless void. But whatever the case, he missed birds. Especially since children continued to play grav-ball and scream and shout like kids always did. Birds could be loud, but at least they didn't let out high pitched screams.

Hate it here.

He blinked, and sipped the adostra. That wasn't true, was it?

"Scott?"

Like, it was true that he wasn't in the mood for company, so when he heard the voice of Nozomi Dunn, him wishing that she'd just leave? That was a genuine emotion.

"Scott Ryder?"

But he didn't hate Meridian, did he? That would be as absurd as saying that he resented his sister for being the poster girl of the Andromeda Initiative.

"Specialist?"

Specialist. The term cut through him like an asari's blade through kett flesh - slowly, and painfully. Nevertheless, he looked up at the captain and tried to smile. "Specialist," he murmured. "Thought I was off duty."

"You are. That doesn't change you being a specialist."

"Yeah? Well, I'm still off duty. So unless we're in threat condition yellow, you don't get to tell me what to do, captain."

The words came out harsher than he intended. None of this was Dunn's fault after all. None of this was anyone's fault - not even the kett could lay claim to the creation of the Scourge, which had landed him in a coma for three months, and as such, made him sit out what people now called the Heleus War. Still, she was there, no-one else was, and drinking beverages that were too hot wasn't enough to cut it. Seeing the brief flicker of...something, in her eyes, indicated that she'd got the hint that he didn't want company. Which made it all the more surprising when she sat down on the bench beside him.

"I'm off-duty as well," she murmured. "Been off-duty for a long time."

He heard the sound of regret in her voice, and was left wondering if he should ask about the cause of it, or just let her talk.

"That adostra?" she asked, gesturing at his steaming cup.

He didn't get the chance either way.

"Isn't that a drink meant for drell?"

He shrugged, and took another sip, the steaming liquid still doing a number on his taste buds. "Humans can still drink it. Most species can except krogan for some reason."

"Krogan?"

"Yep. Does a number on their stomachs."

"Didn't think that was possible."

Scott laughed, and as he reflected how good that felt, gestured up to the sky. "We're in a Dyson sphere two-and-a-half million light years from Earth, at the hub of a terraforming network that can transform planets through space magic. Think we're well beyond the impossible." He took another sip. "It's too hot though."

"But you're drinking it."

"Yep." He put the cup down. "And in case you're wondering why I didn't wait for it to cool, I..."

"Yes?" Dunn asked.

He shrugged. "Thought I'd have a catchy line by the end of that sentence."

Dunn laughed as well. Not as gaily as he had, but it was a laugh nonetheless. Odd, coming from a woman who'd commanded one of the largest spaceships ever constructed by humanity, and who'd been at odds with his father from what he'd understood.

He gave her a look - an actual proper look. It wasn't technically accurate to say that she was wearing civilian clothes (since apart from APEX, nothing in the Initiative was actual military), but she wasn't wearing her uniform either. Like him, it was a simple black jumpsuit, no different from what most humans wore. Still, if the clothes made the man, woman, or an individual of non-specified gender, Captain Nozomi Dunn of Ark Hyperion and governor of Port Meridian exemplified that saying to a T. Or an S. Or any other letter in the alphabet. Come tomorrow, she'd be wearing her captain's uniform and be acting like she was actually in charge of anything. But today?

He sipped the adostra again. It was starting to cool down.

"So," Dunn murmured. She looked at the children who were playing. "Should I ask how it feels to be sitting in a park named after your sister?"

Scott shrugged, as he watched a human and turian re-enact the First Contact War via wrestling. "It's fine."

"Bullshit."

Scott looked at her. "Excuse me?"

Dunn was looking more like a captain again, as she turned to face him. "Come on Scott, you haven't been fine in six years."

"What can I say? Cryo comas does that to a man."

"Cryo comas, I can live with. And as long as you do your job and continue helping our archeologists study the jardaan tech, I can also live with that. But you having sister issues?"

Scott sighed. "You really doing this? I'm not Alec, Captain."

"I know. Problem is, you're awfully close."

"Excise me?"

"Male, brooding, isolated, standoffish…"

Scott opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. There was a yell, but that was from the parents of the children breaking things up. In a way, he felt sorry for them - he knew what it was like to be disciplined, and turian discipline made Alec Ryder look like a fairy godmother. But he'd much rather have to deal with that then being grilled for sibling rivalry.

"How is your sister anyway?" Dunn asked.

Scott blinked. "Don't you know?"

Dunn glanced aside. "I hear things."

"Hear things? Aren't you given briefings?"

"When the lords and ladies of the Nexus deem it fit to do so, yes."

The use of lords and ladies caused Scott to imagine the Nexus command staff in attire befitting such lords and ladies. A mistake, as Nakmor Kesh's dress was really big, among other things.

"But you're her brother," Dunn said, looking back at the specialist. "Surely you keep in touch?"

Scott shrugged. "Hear things."

Dunn gave him a look. Why she was taking an interest in him, Scott didn't know. Some lingering respect for his father? Sympathy for being overshadowed? Perhaps this was all pretense for something else. Whatever the case, he didn't want anything to do with it. But, getting to his feet, and looking at Dunn, he could tell that he had no choice in the matter. Day off or not, she still had senior rank.

"This is called Ryder Park," Scott murmured. He gestured to its southern edge, where a small plaque had been erected. "That thing there makes it clear to the world that this park was named in honour of Sara Ryder, born 2163, who led the Battle of Meridian in Year 0 of the Andromedan calendar, and did a bunch of other stuff before that." He finished off the adostra and tossed the cup onto the grass. "Course you can adjust the dates based on your species, but while you're doing that, keep in mind that Primary Education Facility One is mostly known as Ryder Elementary. And that our newest scout ship is called the Ryder. And then there's the documentaries, and the holos, and those ads on the Nexus saying that my sister is endorsing certain stores."

"Weren't they taken down for being fake?" Dunn asked.

"Whatever. Point is, my sister's famous. Heck, my dad's famous. Alec Ryder got us to the race track, Sara Ryder got us to the finish line, and I get the participation trophy." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and began pacing around. "And I know it's stupid. I know I should be beyond sibling rivalry, and I know that we're all on the same side, and I know it's petty, but..."

"But you can't help it?"

Scott stopped pacing and looked at Dunn. "Pretty much." In spite of everything, he gave a small smile. "That make me an asshole?"

"No. Just makes you human."

Scott snorted. "You seen the stuff around here Dunn? Being human doesn't really count for much here."

"Maybe. But point is, you're not an asshole. I work with assholes. I give orders to assholes, and take orders from assholes. Some assholes are so big they could eject an entire drive core through them." She looked up at him. "Point is, you're not an asshole."

"Thanks, mum."

Dunn's gaze softened "How is your mother, anyway?"

Scott looked away, at an angara walking with her children. "The same," he murmured. The children ran off to play, thankfully not re-enacting the First Contact War with a group of salarians. Something was clutching his heart, and whatever it was, it had claws.

"No progress then."

Scott sighed. "Just because you travel to a new galaxy doesn't mean you can cure eezo poisoning." He looked up at the sky. "Funny. The jardaan could create life. But six years, and we haven't found anything that can save it."

Dunn got to her feet. "Give it time, Scott. We've only scratched the surface of Meridian."

"Yeah? And how long do we have to keep scratching?"

"Excuse me?"

He looked back at her. "You know what I'm talking about. We've had six years to study the jardaan. What else has happened over that period of time?"

Dunn had the grace to not answer the question. She didn't need to reiterate that the last six years had been marred by constant border skirmishes with the kett. Stopping the Archon from controlling Meridian might have given them a breather, but the claws of the Primus were still clutched around their throat. These days, the kett weren't interested in the Remnant, they were interested in the sapient species that called Heleus home. Which meant death, or exaltation, or war. And being reasonably well versed in the history of the Milky Way, Scott knew the truth that so many others did - what they'd experienced with the kett so far wasn't a war. Wars involved starships, and armies. Wars were fought between kingdoms and empires. And if the Kett Empire turned up today, in force, then the Initiative had about as much chance of surviving as he did in vacuum without a suit - a short, painful, messy death, with the possibility of being revived into something else.

Dunn was still silent. Bereft of birds, or wind, the only sound was that of the children. Scott returned his gaze to them, now playing a game of biotiball - or rather, watching asari play, with non-asari trying to join in. He wanted to smile. He wanted to tell himself that it would be alright, that the act of bringing a child into the universe was a symbol of love, of defiance, of hope. But even he knew the truth - the Andromeda Initiative needed children, because it needed numbers. Because however long it took the kett to arrive in force, be it a year, ten, or twenty, they would come. And when they did, the Initiative would need soldiers. It would need those children to learn how to use those biotics for things other than games. It would need them to learn how to shoot rifles. It would need them to learn so many things, and learn them quickly, whether it be in Primary Education Facility One, or on the firing range at Prodromos.

"You know, there's one bright side to all this," Dunn said.

Scott looked at her. "Excuse me?"

She smiled. "When the kett show up, you'll have plenty of chances to get something named after you as well."

Scott blinked - he was pretty sure telepathy was the stuff of science fiction, but who could be sure in this galaxy?

"I mean, they are coming," Dunn said, her smile fading. "And you've shown yourself to be handy with a pistol..."

"And being captured," Scott murmured.

"And being captured," Dunn repeated. "But bear in mind that you don't have to live with the knowledge that you lost your ship to the kett."

Scott frowned. "You're not the only one who lost a ship."

"I said live with it," Dunn said, her smile well and truly gone. "But like it or not, we all have to keep living."

And there it was, Scott reflected. The rub. Well, it didn't matter. He could be jealous of his sister, he could live in the shadow of his father, he at least understood that those feelings could be shunted to the side, if not outright removed. Dunn might get to share in the misery of being in the shadow of those in power, relegated to a planet that ultimately answered to the Nexus, but it was misery he had no intention of sharing.

"Oh, and one more thing," Dunn said, picking up the empty cup Scott had been drinking from before handing it to him. "Clean up after yourself. We aren't here to turn this place into Earth Two-point-oh."

"Overpopulated, over-polluted, over-exploited?"

"Something like that."

He smirked. "The angara seem to like it in the cultural centre."

"Course they do. What, you think we were going to show them the bad stuff?"

"Guess not. Scott took the cup and scrunched it before putting it in his pocket. "Well, fine. Glad to know I can do my part."

"Good." Dunn glanced at the children, before murmuring, "and stay glad you can."

Scott blinked. Was that sympathy? Actual sympathy that came after the 'get your shit together' lecture? He didn't know. And as Captain Nozomi Dunn was now walking off, he supposed he never would. Least not today at least. Tomorrow, maybe, but tomorrow he'd have to Report to Gamma Site and see what his SAM implant could do while interfacing with jardaan tech. Likely nothing more than solving tedious puzzles that made him wonder how the heck the jardaan got anything done, but hey, one could hope.

And, he reflected, as he sat back down on the bench, one could also enjoy the simple things in life.

Or, as a biotiball hit his head, try to.