HOLOCAUST
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO:
WHENEVER YOU NEED ME
July 22, 2186
0917 hours.
Western Coast, Ar'sha Canyon, Former Country of Poltane'r, Uma'Waz Subcontinent, Rannoch.
The Reaper War.
Captain Marcus Lee Shepard, Admiral Tali'Shepard vas Normandy.
It was dark.
His eyes stung.
His lungs ached painfully.
His back twinged.
His ribs were sore, a phantom pain.
Most of all, it was cold. It seeped into his bones, worked its way into his muscles, and permeated his skin. He felt trapped; slowly moving, yet not moving at all. Everything around him worked against him, making him feel like he was working his way through a thousand needles. He kicked and thrashed, all to no avail; he was as helpless as fish caught in a net; flopping uselessly as they were carried up to their doom, no escape or salvation awaiting them. And just like them, he was rising. Unlike them, it was because of his own will.
The cold did everything it could to halt him; assaulting his body with icy slaughter, his brain offering nothing but a false drive to push on. To advance. He simply bit down on his lower gum, letting a mental growl echo his thoughts; useless in his soundless environment, although knowing that noone would hear it. It was a deep, relentless expanse. Full of nothing but the bare minimum of life, and only a modicum of light.
As he struggled, voices penetrated his thoughts, reminding him of past decisions and losses. Old voices of hatred, and new ones of hope...
"Had to be me."
"Assassin should be embarassed."
"Does this unit have a soul?"
You represent chaos. We represent order.
Submit.
Serve us.
Serve.
SERVE.
We are many.
He laughed mentally, but was unable to formulate a grin. The darkness was unrelenting, but he fought back against it, unwilling to be held down. You are dead. Now go do what dead things do and stop fucking talking.
Even dead gods dream.
Then go dream. And you are no God.
By every profile created by organic fallacies, we fit the definition of a deity. What makes you think we do not?
Because gods can't die.
He continued to beat against the unending tide, ascending ever upwards, his thoughtless thrashing turning into directed upward thrusts, his body moving gracefully through the void...
You are all doomed. We are eternal.
You're a joke against nature. An abomination with a false purpose. You're no more eternal than I am. And if I can die, so can you. I've killed...what? Five of you fucks? Oh, and now you. Guess that makes six, eh? Six dead abominations, huh? Guess that makes me the cleanser.
We have passed, but there will be others. You cannot escape us.
Who says I'm running? You're all dead, you just don't know it. The cycle ends with this one.
Falsehoods. Inaccuracies. Why do you continue to resist? Is submission not preferable to extinction?
He paused in his motions, hesitating. Suddenly, he wasn't ascending; he was hanging in place, body feeling weightless as he began to sink back into the dark abyss he was trying to escape, feeling that sense of helplessness and defenselessness once more as the Reaper's familiar words penetrated the deepest corners of his mind, taunting him in repetitive ways that he had experienced a million times over.
Saren.
Saren.
Saren.
Traitor.
Spectre.
Turian.
Indoctrinated.
A lost cause.
Gone.
Words...meaningless.
Suddenly, Oblivion's echoing consciousness didn't matter once more, and his ascent continued, the light in his vision growing larger and larger with his ascent; he was escaping his nightmare, fleeing from the words of a dead Reaper. A Reaper that had long passed on; who persisted in Marcus' mind, although fleeting.
Extinction is always preferable to submission. What species can be proud and free if enslaved and conquered? Their spirit is gone; their very soul. They all become one with each other, and any differences are wiped out; diversity becomes non-existent. That isn't life; that's flogging a dead corpse. No, I would rather die than serve you, and I certainly won't let you use my body for a disgusting Human-Reaper. Never. I won't allow it. Whatever species was harvested to create you, Oblivion...at least that species can now rest in peace now that you're destroyed. You can no longer drag their name through the galactic mud for any longer. Whatever you once were...may it rest in peace.
The light brightened, intensifying, becoming almost blinding as he continued to propel himself upwards, Oblivion's hold on his mind evaporating, as did its hold over him. Oblivion was long gone, and now its consciousness began to fade away; dematerializing along with the rest of its existence. He winced from the light, but did not flinch from it; he was resolute, pushing himself up, and up, and up, and up...
Cannot...escape...harvest...doom...salvation...of all...
Words. All of it. Meaningless.
"Is submission not preferable to extinction?"
No. Fuck that. We fight or we die. Extinction over submission.
"A union of flesh and steel! The strengths of both, the weaknesses of neither!"
A lie. There is no happiness to be found in such a synthesis. Who are the Reapers to force that evolution upon us? What makes them believe we have no choice in such a matter? We are our own. Noone owns us. If 'purity' is not our destiny, then fuck whatever the Reapers want of us. Let them all burn in hell.
"Do we deserve death?"
No, no you didn't. None of us do. I remember.
"Does this unit have a soul?"
Yes. I remember. I remember. We remember.
Then he reached the light, and his world exploded.
His mouth shot open, a loud gasp exploding past his lips as air rushed into his lungs, flooding them with non-visible life. The cold around his face evaporated, fading away as his features were bombarded with yellow light, his skin reflecting the rays of the sun as he simply hovered where he was. Water splashed all over for a few brief moments after his surfacing, arms still fluttering beneath the water, legs kicking to make sure he stayed afloat. All around, calm, serene, pure blue water surrounded him, the soldier now drenched in its essence. His hair was silk, soaked to the point of sticking to his head, a few strands stuck in his eyes as he tried to focus on his surrounding terrain. He shot his head back, watching as the hair disappeared from sight to curl around his crown, allowing him to see far more clearly.
Cold still tucked his body, but he embraced it, enjoying the change from the humid warmth he had grown accustom to on the lost world. He winced as he tasted sea water in his mouth, spitting out what little had collected there. More dribbled from his lips, and his back flared angrily as the salt water mixed with his burns, which were beginning to fade, but not at a fast enough pace. His ribs were more or less fine, especially after Chakwas had patched them up the other day. She had applied copious amounts of medi-gel to his singed back, and after resting it off for a few hours, he had returned to the surface with Tali to explore the terrain; something they had had little time to do, for obvious reasons.
He just hovered there for a few moments, soaking in all there was to see. He was not far from the island they had both chosen to house themselves on, being only a dozen meters from its base. To his right was the main land, the cliffs towering over him, their shadows casting down on the water nearby. Waves crashed along the beach, washing up sand and an assortment of other features that were no doubt exclusive to Rannoch's ecology. The sun reflected off the rocks that littered the shore, creating a brilliant glow that never ceased to dazzle Marcus.
Hard to believe that this was the quarian homeworld three hundred years. And now its theirs again; to share with the geth, of course.
As it was, Marcus did not flinch when he heard the familiar roar of a geth fighter, turning to the source of the sound on his left. He watched as the vessel turned from a dot on the sky to its full size as it shot past at insane speed, the wind rustling and the air pushed aside as the fighter reached beyond the speed of sound. It disappeared over the cliffs, the sound of its passing dispersing a gathering of qui'tee that had grouped up along the cliff edge. With a chorus of screeches, they scattered to the wind, moving in such tight organization as to mimick a professional military echelon. One by one they went, larger females followed by smaller males, and their even smaller offspring. Their screeches began to cease as they all flew away, grouping into formations not dissimiliar from the birds of Earth. Their wings definitely ruined that picture, though.
Seriously, those wings are creepy.
Then he turned left, and saw it again. It was hard not to.
Oblivion's corpse just sat there, still as it had been yesterday, unmoving and lifeless. He kept expecting its airhorn to blare out across the ocean; for the Reaper to rise up and its thanix cannon to slice through the air; but they didn't. Its airhorn remained silent, it remained motionless, and the eye that once housed its thanix cannon was now a blank, shattered oculus, cracked and singed by twin Cain explosions. The armoured plates that had once covered it were all but gone, and waves battered against its body as if it were an island in and of itself.
Rannoch had already begun to make a home for it, that much was clear. Even from where he was, he could see what looked like blue streaks running down the side of the Reaper's side, and from what he had been told, the blue streaks were actually the excrement of birds called fres'kee. Red streaks made a crown around the top of the Reaper; the feces of qui'tee. Most of it had crusted due to age, and a tight circle of birds had begun to fly around the air above Oblivion's corpse, squawking and screeching at each other. Some of them had even landed on numerous spots all over it, beaks pecking at its nigh-impenetrable armor, some of them crying out as they were unable to even scratch it. Overall, Oblivion's body just sat there like it had been absorbed by nature; a great sentient starship in the middle of natural occurances; an oddity. An anomaly.
The sight made him grin.
A Reaper; it takes dozens of ships just to take one of them down. And here it is, being shat on by birds and used as mating grounds. Take that, Oblivion.
A familiar voice, yelling out from across the water and from up above, broke his thoughts, "You coming up to finish your lunch or what, Mark!?"
Tearing his gaze away from the Reaper, he looked up to the island that it sat before to see Tali sitting at the edge of the island, looking down at him, obviously waiting for an answer.
He laughed, and began to swim forward as he chose to escape the icy cold of the water in comparison to the humid climate outside of it, "I'm on my way! Just enjoying the water! You really should have joined me!"
"I told you, I can't swim!" Tali shouted back, watching him as he began to swim towards her, "You know that!"
"I could have taught you!" he shouted back inbetween arm thrusts.
"You? Teach me? Are you going to teach me how to drive too?" she yelled back with a noticable chuckle.
"Goddamn it, you vindictive woman!" he growled, "Are you going to hold a grudge? Do you have any idea how difficult driving that piece of shit is? Maybe you should learn how to drive it! Let's see if you can drive it better!"
"Pitiful excuses, Mark! Pitiful!" she grinned, "I expected better from an N7."
"Don't make me come up there, Mrs. Shepard!"
"Then come and get me, feeble human!"
Challenge accepted.
Within a few seconds, he had managed to reach the shore of the island, pulling himself up and out of the water as he did, grabbing at the rocks infront of him to use as leverage to pull himself out. Water dripped and fell from his body as he dragged himself out, revealing that he was wearing nothing other than a simple pair of swimshorts. Grunting, he flipped onto his back as he rested for a moment, letting the water drip from his body as he looked up into the sky. Reaching up a hand, he cupped his hair and pushed it back, keeping it out of his face; drops of water were caught in his stubble, and he carelessly wiped it away as he blinked trace amounts from his eyes. After a few more heavy breaths, he sighed deeply and flipped once more, pushing himself to his feet.
The sand crunched and squished beneath his bare feet, toes running through the silky, wet substance. The feeling was bliss, and he took a moment to relish in the feeling before cracking his neck and beginning his trek back up the island's side. He was careful to avoid stepping on any rocks or stones, especially the sharper ones. Crisp ocean air was wafted up into his nostrils, and despite how refreshing it was, it stung as his nose continued to heal from being broken. He felt the sun beat down on his exposed body, the heat intense enough to dry him off without any towel. All the while, he continued to ascend, eventually getting impatient enough to increase speed, until he was in a light jog.
Little more than a minute later, he arrived at the top, finding himself with an undeterred view of the island top before him. Oblivion's body painted the area infront of him, but he ignored it in favor of their little setup. On the spot closest to the Reaper was a blanket laid out across the ground, with a box lying in the middle; beside it was a plate with a half eaten sandwich and bag of chips, while a second beside it had five, unopened nutrient paste tubes, each one with different flavours and colors. The blanket was held down on all four corners by other plates; the wind flapped casually at the blanket, desperately trying to lift it up, but unable to due to the plates holding it down.
Behind the blanket, and drawn into the ground, was a large network of squares and lines in the sand and dust. To others, it would look like a toddler's idea of a city blueprint, but for Tali and Shepard...well, it was supposed to be there attempt at drawing up blueprints of their own...just not for a city. Sitting beside it was Tali, her legs crossed, the quarian looking at him with her arms crossed, one finger tapping impatiently against her arm.
He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he approached, eventually relenting and giving a shrug as he approached the blanket, careful to avoid their blueprint in the sand as he sat down, grabbing his sandwich. The smell was still present, assaulting his nostrils was delicious goodness. Steak with tomatoes, cucumber, capsicum and mayonnaise. Gardner, you've done it again. There was a large bite hole in the sandwich where Marcus had taken a quick bite before diving into the water, so he had already had a taste for the marvellous piece of design.
Reaching forward, he took another bite, chewing quietly as he forgot about everything else. Nothing but him, and his sandwich...
"Forgotten me already?"
Stuttering in his chewing, he felt his eyes water as his windpipe was temporarily blocked, before being relieved as he slammed a fist into his chest, loosening up the blockage. Looking up at her, she was none the wiser, as the water in his eyes simply mixed in the water already all over his face. Smiling up at her, he finished chewing and swallowed, placing the sandwich back down on his plate as he turned back to her, "Oh, hey Tali."
Hands on her hips, she shook her head, sighing heavily, "I trust you enjoyed your little swim?"
He nodded, lying back on his elbows, making sure to flex his muscles; he knew how much Tali loved it when he did that. And, like clockwork, he did not fail to notice as Tali's eyes left his and were drawn to his upper torso, following the lines of muscle across his body as she likely lost track of what she was thinking before. He simply grinned. Works every time. He decided to respond regardless, although whether Tali heard him or not was another question, "Well, I haven't had a swim for quite a while; not since our honeymoon, actually. Even then, nothing like the freedom of an ocean. Its...refreshing. Helps me clear my head." He looked up at her, and resisted a chuckle as he noticed Tali not even paying attention, eyes still tracing along his body, likely thinking of all the things she wanted to do to him.
"Uh, Rannoch to Tali; come in. You read?"
She still didn't respond.
Reaching up a hand, he clicked his fingers, finally pulling her from her daze, the quarian shaking her head as she looked up at him, "Yeah, hello Tali. You can think of all the ways to kill me later."
"Sorry?"
Ha! Worked! Should try that more...
"Never mind," he grinned knowingly, wiggling his eyebrows at her. All she did was raise an eyebrow, clearly confused at what he was getting at. Letting his grin fade, he turned away from her and back to his plate, picking up his half eaten sandwich in preparation for taking another bite. As he raised the food to his lips, he couldn't help but hesitate as something came to the forefront of his mind. He paused, thinking about what he was until it finally came to him. Turning to her, he lowered his plate as he frowned, "Are we still doing our little plan here or are we just going to enjoy the view?" That last bit was left open to interpretation on my both sides.
I know what view she's admiring...
She nodded, turning back to the ground as she moved away from him, steadily making her way over to the spot which he was mentioning, coming to stand before it with a contemplative hand stroking the chin of her helmet, "Well, only if you're ready to admit that the bedroom should be on the top floor."
He groaned, shaking his head as he held it in his hands, "Tali, I don't think you get it. Putting the bedroom on the second floor means we must go down a set of stairs to reach the kitchen down below; in the morning, would you really want to be bothered with the effort of walking down a set of stairs just for breakfast? It makes more sense to have it on the ground floor, so that we can reach the kitchen with little to no trouble at all."
His wife only growled in response, beginning to pace around the drawing, "But...having it on the second floor gives us a beautiful view. Think about it...waking up in the morning, the sun beating down on your face, with the crisp ocean air filling your lungs; you walk outside, and there's nothing but ocean as far as the eye can see. Keelah, you have to admit; the very idea of it is a dream!"
She raises a good point. But still...
Before he could respond though, she jumped in, hands on her hips, "Besides, its not my fault that you humans are lazy."
He frowned, twisting himself around to look at her with an exaggerated posture, "Hey! I am not lazy! I just don't think its practical, that's all..."
As always, her posture was unimpressed, arms crossed with an eyebrow simply raised at him; it was looking more and more like she was perputually trying to comprehend his stupidity. Or, at least, what she sees as stupidity.
With a massive sigh, he stood up, pushing himself up and off the ground with surprisingly little effort, despite how tired his arms and legs had been from all the swimming he had done. Standing up fully, he squared his shoulders, moving towards her with hands held up submissively, carefully not to stop on or ruin her work in the sand, "Hey, you know what? Don't listen to me. This is ultimately your house on your homeworld; I'm just here for the ride."
Just as he reached her, she sighed, shaking her head as her arms slackened, falling to her sides, "That's not true...well..." she cocked her head, reevaluating what she wanted to say before turning to look up at him as he stood beside her, "...mostly true. But still...this is your dream now, too. Noone, especially me, could have done this without you; you talked down Gerrel. You destroyed Oblivion."
"Be that as it may," he began, rubbing the back of his neck as he crouched down next to the drawing. He reached out one hand towards where the 'bedroom' was, carefully moving a single finger across the sand, beginning a new line as it steadily moved up and towards the 'second' floor, "This was your dream first. Before I came along, this was your father's dream for you, and I promised I would fullfill that; this is all for you, you know what? Everything I've done here; it was for the quarian people, but I did it with you in mind."
"That's doesn't mean you have to-" she cut herself off, suddenly catching onto what his finger was doing. Her eyes widened as his finger finished at its terminus; a line pointing from the bedroom's position on the lower floor to the second floor, at the back of the house, "What are you doing!? Did you hear anything I just said?"
"Hey, I know when to admit I'm wrong," he declared with a smirk, standing up as he contemplated his handiwork, "Besides, you're right. The bedroom would look much better on the second floor; beachfront property, remember? Gotta take full advantage of that title and everything that comes with it."
"Keelah, I don't understand you sometimes," she waved her hands up in the air, looking up at him with nothing but complete stupefaction, "You say one thing, and then completely change your mind the next."
He just smirked at her, sneaking an arm around her waist as he pulled her into his side, kissing the top of her hood, "Comes with the package, my dear. You wanted Marcus Shepard; that means all the confusion, silliness and terrible humor that comes with me."
"Well, I did get to choose, I guess," she giggled, tucking herself under his arm as they studied their handiwork, "My mistake."
He chuckled, pretending to look offended, "There you go; right in the will to live, Tali. My own wife thinks I'm a mistake."
"Oh, you are," she retorted, looking up into the sky as she did, "But not one I'm going to regret anytime soon," she took a long, deep sigh, and the two of them simply stood there for a few minutes, enjoying the view and simply listening to the squawks and coos of the birds circling up above, accompanied with the occassional roar of aircraft in the distance. He looked behind him briefly to see thick smoke still rising in the distance; it clearly originated from the wreck of the Tonbay, although from the flurry of aircraft activity it was obvious the geth were making recovery efforts to clean up the site and locate further survivors. The smoke kept emptying into the sky, as apparently eezo had a very long burning period. Turning away from it, he continued to admire the scenery in peace, not wanting to focus on any aspect of the Reapers or Cerberus in any way.
Clarity was hard to come by, after all.
After a few extra seconds, Tali spoke up, her voice a mere whisper as she tried her best not to make too much noise and therefore break the moment, "You know, I've always dreamed of building this house on Rannoch...but ever since the wedding, I've come to realize that I only have one home. And even as we stand here, planning out our house, I haven't changed my mind. A house is just a house; its not a proper home. And neither is a ship."
"So what is your home, Tali?" he asked her just as quietly, his voice barely a mumble, smiling down at her.
She looked up at him, her smile warm and ghostly, "You. I've never needed another. As long as you're with me, and I'm with you, I'll always have a home."
Her words lit up within him with a radiance he hadn't felt before; it was funny, because before the geth attack on Eden Prime, he never would have imagined having a wife, let alone a woman so devoted to him as to follow him into the gates of hell itself. They had fought together, made love together and lived together; even though they had only met three years ago, and married two years after that, they had a bond that most married couples who had been married for decades couldn't match.
With this in mind, he thought through Tali's words, and came to a solid truth; as he was her home, she was his home. When one thought about it, it was so obvious. A house is just a place to live in; calling it a home is subjective. If that house is destroyed, you can simply move onto another or rebuild it; its not a permanent home. Its not something everlasting. But someone you love? They can't be replaced; they aren't an object that any amount of money or resources could ever substitute. They fill you with warmth, make you feel special and give you a will to fight; qualities a house is incapable of providing.
So, when you think about it, the saying 'home is where the heart is' really does ring true. Tali was his home; and wherever she was, he would be. Until death did they part...
Never again. I am never leaving you ever again, Tali. No politics, Reapers or Cerberus will keep us apart any longer. Now, in this war, I need you more than ever. The month before seeing you again was one of the longest of my life; all the death I witnessed, the decisions I had to make...Tarquin, Jacob, Mordin, Thane...those names ring in my head over and over like a bloody chorus. They sing to me, but only in bloody notes. Four people, three of which I called friends, dead within in a month. If that could happen in one month of war with the Reapers, what could happen in two? Or three? Hell, what if this war goes on for years, and by the end there's nothing but a row of coffins to look at?
What if they take you from me as well? Or me from you?
The very thought of it brought ice into his heart, seizing him up with fear; but he knew that if he gave into such things, the Reapers would win. That's what they wanted; to shatter their foe's resolve and slowly wittling down their willpower with taunts and promises of salvation; Saren had been a prime example. He was promised a reprieve from the inevitable; but it was all a lie. Saren would have died like the rest, and once he served his purpose, Sovereign would have disposed of him like all the other indoctrinated agents before him.
Just like Harbinger will do to the Illusive Man and all of Cerberus when they've ceased to be useful.
He knew that such thoughts were useless; they only gave the Reapers fuel to help their indoctrination; he couldn't allow that. He had to show the Reapers that he was not going to be another one of their thralls; he had to show the Illusive Man the flaws in his ideals. He was a champion of humanity; the whole galaxy looked up to him to save them, and he here he was, yet another step into forming the largest military armada in all of history. And when all was said and done, he would make the Reapers tremble as millions of warships thundered towards them, and the Crucible consumed them all.
But first that armada has to be finished, the Crucible completed and the catalyst found.
So as quickly as the ice formed in his heart, it evaporated. No, he was not going to let the Reapers win. Sovereign had failed to take the Citadel. Harbinger had failed to create the Human-Reaper. The Reapers had failed in entering the Bahak System. Vanguard had failed in stopping the genophage cure. Oblivion had failed to stop the quarian-geth alliance. At every turn, whenever Marcus and his squad were there, the Reapers had failed. And everytime, their kill count racked up. Reaper after Reaper fell, their taunts more ironic at every interval.
Tali is my home; and I will fight like hell to protect her and our future together.
He looked away from her to look at the house 'schematics' they had drawn into the sand, his smile growing as he felt nothing but warmth in his heart. I want that house. I want to wake up every morning with her body pressed against mine, and just lie there while listening to the ocean. I want to complain about having to walk down stairs just to have breakfast. I want to wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of a child crying. I want to have more arguments with my wife. I want to leave each morning without her worrying about whether not I'll come back or not.
I want the boredom of suburban life. I want to drop my weapons, strip my armor and live.
I'll be damned if I let the Reapers take that from me.
"Mark?" Tali's voice broke his thoughts, and he turned to look down at her, "You're thinking about something; I know that look. What's on your mind?"
He smiled at her, squeezing her shoulder. I'm imagining a beach just like this, littered with the corpses of hundreds of Reapers, while lying back in a beach chair with Garrus, sipping a few beers and cracking a few jokes. "About the future...about what I want to do, Tali. I've got a long checklist, and its ambitious."
"Like what?" she asked, a smile hinted at in her tone.
He grinned back, looking past her visor into her eyes, "Retiring from the military and living the suburban life; nothing involving guns. No training marines or joining the police; once this is all over, I want nothing more to do with violence or weapons of any description. I might even take up a desk job. How about that? Or maybe I'll become a lawyer; Marcus Shepard, Ace Attorney!"
She giggled, shaking her head, "You'll go insane with boredom. Besides, I can't imagine you as a lawyer. Too much scheming."
"Yeah," he agreed, "Nice thought, though. I'd also like to settle down and start a family; Junior's only the tip of the iceberg. What do you think, Tali? Would you want to start a family with me?"
She looked up at him incredulously, and then laughed, "I believe we've had this conversation already; when we're done, we'll be able to start a new clan. You can count on it."
"Well, at least you don't lack for enthusiasm," he joked, giving off a slight chuckle, "Besides, the idea of being called 'daddy' is pretty motivating. Never put much thought into being a father before, but when I saw Junior for the first time...I knew its what I wanted. To see my own kid grow up, pass school and proceed into greatness...just like any father would want for their child. I just hope he doesn't become an old, weary soldier like me."
"Old?" Tali snorted, poking him in the chest, "You're only about to hit your thirties, Mark. Shala would laugh at you thinking yourself elderly."
He nodded, conceding her point, "You do make a good point. Doesn't make me feel any less old though; so much shit as happened in three years it feels like I've experienced a lifetime. Fighting two wars, uncovering a billion-year-old dark galactic secret, setting up a safari-tour ship, marrying a quarian, taking up a turian for a brother, talking down a krogan, curing the genophage, securing a quarian-geth alliance, wiping out the Collectors, working with a terrorist group and then starting a war with them...and all of that in only three years? Forgive me for feeling old."
She just rolled her eyes, turning away from him to look back down at the drawing before him, "Well, if you think you feel old now, wait until we both have time to raise Junior. Raising him while you were on Earth was hell, but worth it. If you think all that makes you feel old, raising a child certainly will. You go from being the child to having one form inside you."
He raised an eyebrow at her, "I don't think I can speak for that last part. Would be horrifying if I could."
"You're right," she mumbled, "You'd probably complain about how much pain it is," then she scoffed disapprovingly, "Men."
"Oh, but you love me," he quipped back, earning himself a light, playful slap on the chest in response. He laughed, continuing to hold her gently against him as they calmed down, looking back down to their drawing in the sand. With a long sigh, he kissed her hood once more, letting his arm quietly slip from her waist as he made himself comfortable in the sand, crossing his legs neatly as he shifted slightly to make himself comfortable. He blew out a long breath, feeling the tension on his mind almost evaporate the moment he did, all his worries and concerns blowing away with the wind.
Peace. I can finally just sit down and appreciate what I'm fighting for.
The squawks of the birds. The whoosh of the ocean breeze. The splash of sea creatures in the deep. The creak of metal as loose sheets on Oblivion's body swayed in the breeze. He looked down, letting his hand gently glide across the lines and dimensions of their 2D drawing of a house, the two-storey building fielding a kitchen, a pool, a master bedroom, four bedrooms, two bathrooms, a lounge room, a garage, a gymnasium, a garden out front...
...but there was one thing missing.
"Ah," he let out in exclamation, a warm smile on his face as he reached forward.
Standing beside him still, his wife only crossed her arms and looked down at him, cocking her head to the side, "What is it, yol'tiya? Did I miss something?"
"A veranda. We need one...right..." he quickly drew it, grinning in appreciation as he sat back to enjoy his work, "...there. A veranda to look over the ocean. And a few chairs, too. And, to complete our little cliche, we'll need a white picket fence. Or maybe we can make it purple, in honor of you?"
A giggle was her answer, and she quickly joined him, sitting beside him in a similiar fashion; although the shape of her legs made the crossing of legs look more awkward than natural. For her part, Tali didn't seem to notice, simply positioning herself correctly as she lay her head on his shoulder, sighing with content as she nodded at his work, the air cooling her mask, "A purple fence...would be nice. And maybe we can add a part onto the garage...I'd like a workshop. Chiktika...I have so many upgrades I want to add to her. And my omni-tool really does need a few upgrades...Keelah, I've always wanted my own worksho-" she managed to recover from her daze in time to see him putting the finishing touches on just that; a new room had been added next to the garage. Shocked, she slapped his chest once more; something that was becoming increasingly common for her, "What did you do that for!? We can't possibly add that!"
"And why the hell not?" he replied bluntly, staring back at her as if daring her to challenge his argument, "This isn't the Migrant Fleet anymore Tali, and you just helped me liberate Rannoch; you've earned yourself this house, and whatever the hell you want with it. And if that means a workshop for you to play around in, then by the hand of God, you shall have your workshop."
"I don't play around in-" she cut herself off with a sigh, realizing he was only baiting her. Shaking her head, she just tapped her visor against his forehead, nodding shortly afterwards with a simple whisper to accompany it, "Thank you..."
"I love you," he replied, "And I can't wait for this war to be over so I can start a new life with you."
She smiled back, and in that moment, she decided to do something incredibly risky, but worth it. Continuing to smile, she quickly reached up behind her hood and, before Marcus could object, realized the clutches on her mask, bringing it away from her helmet. She sighed happily as the air now impacted her face, numbing it with its icy coldness, whilst also blinking as her eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness of the sun. She licked her lips, breathing in the air she had so wanted to breathe for so long without a filter. She pulled back her hood, letting her raven hair flow free and down her shoulders. She removed nothing else as she just sat there, looking out across the ocean and their small little island.
Turning back to Marcus, she noticed the look of worry on his face, "Tali, put your mask back on. You're going to get sick."
"I know," she leaned in, breathing in his scent as she smiled happily, "It'll take us a while to adjust, but, in this moment...I have this," completing her approach, she let her lips mold with his, and for a few short moments, they kissed. It was brief, loving and gentle, the two of them simply enjoying it for what it was, knowing more would come later. After a moment, she pulled away, both of them opening their eyes as Tali once again rested her head on his shoulder, turning to look out across the sea. She wanted this to last forever. Silently, as she closed her eyes, she whispered, "And I love you too, Mark. Forever and always."
He nodded, and without further word, simply sat there, the both of them watching the sun as it glowed brillantly on the horizon.
That moment lasted for hours.
For them, it wasn't nearly long enough.
{Loading...}
July 22, 2186
1235 hours.
Geth Orbital Dock DC5-338145, In Orbit over Rannoch, Tikkun System, Perseus Veil Cluster.
The Reaper War.
Military Advisor Garrus Vakarian.
So. Many. New. Toys.
It would be an understatement to say that Garrus was excited.
Ever since the battle on Rannoch, all the turian had wanted to do was rest. It had been a long, difficult battle; lives had been lost, but all of them had been repaid with the death of a Reaper. They had been shot at, chased, thrown around and been forced to run around quite a deal, and all that expenditure had taken a toll on everybody, Garrus included. The deaths of Desolas and his blackwatch company had saddened the turian, but in the end he knew the mantra of the turian hierarchy.
Die for the cause. Those men gave their lives not just for the Hierarchy, but for the galaxy as a whole. Sacrifice is expected of us, not commended. Sad, but that's how it is.
Good thing I'm not a very good turian.
His entire body ached from yesterday's strenuous combat, and even resting in Chakwas' med bay didn't help; especially given that the beds in there were built for a human, and therefore weren't very comfortable. He had returned to the ship, Kasumi towing him with James not far behind, with Chakwas and Michel descending upon him like birds nursing their young. Before he knew it, he was under a general anaesthetic, and he was descending into the cool, blank darkness of uncomfortable, but desperately needed, slumber.
His dreams had been a set of twisted nightmarish figmentations. On the one hand, he had dreamt about his family being slowly indoctrinated, spitting hate at him while their faces twisted and morphed until they had turned into the marauders that Garrus had fought on Palaven and other worlds. Their names stuck into his memory like leaches; draining him of hope, trying to fill him with guilt and worry.
Thotous, his father.
Solana, his only sister.
Nepne, his dying mother.
All of them, morphing into the very creatures he had killed without blinking on Palaven and Tuchanka and the other worlds he had fought them on. Creatures of mechnical purpose and dull perception; transformed from organic beings with hearts and souls and aspirations into single-minded cannon fodder deployed only to kill. And all Garrus had done in the nightmare was pull out his pistol, take him, and gun them down, one by one, in a line. The marauders didn't even try to fight back; they just stood there, swaying, the blue electronics that now made their eyes staring soullessly back at him. Despite having no proper mouth, words continued to pour from them, echoing on the wind, sounding no different to their voices from pre-transformation. And all he did was place bullets into their heads, ending their perceived torment.
Thotous, his father. He had disagreed with him so much on so many things. Thotous hadn't wanted him to become a spectre, but wanted him to join C-Sec; he was disappointed in Garrus when he left C-Sec to fight with Marcus against Saren. The two of them had rarely been on good terms or seen eye to eye, but he had been a good man; a loving father. And in the end, he had seen and believed Garrus in what mattered; the Reapers.
Solana, his young sister. His sister had been angry at him since he had left for Omega to become Archangel two years ago. Even upon his return to Palaven after Marcus' arrest, Solana had been angry that Garrus had been more interested in clearing out the scum of Omega than coming back to see his mother; a mother who had nursed and loved the both of them, and had fallen deathly ill with a disease that was incurable; a disease that had been, and for the past two years, still was eating her from the inside out. For two years, she had been confined to a bed while the disease, known to salarian medical professionals as Corpalis Syndrome, slowly and gradually consumed her nervous system. Being a neurological degenerative disorder, the disease subtlely and lethargically broke down every major system in the body until hitting the brain.
By this point, after two years of being afflicted with the condition, his mother's spine no longer distributed the signals from her brain that commanded her body on what to do, and she was therefore officially paralyzed, unable to even speak and forced to eat and drink through a straw. The only reason euthansia wasn't even considered was because Thotous wouldn't hear of it, and that Nepne herself had insisted on giving her body to the Helos Medical Institute, allowing them to try and find a cure for the deadly disease.
Despite that however, no cure had been found of late, and by the time the Reaper armada beared down on Palaven, his mother was still bed-ridden, inching ever closer to death, so lifeless that she might as well have been nothing but a labrat. And combined with the fact that keeping her safe from the Reaper occupation forces while trapped on Palaven would be nigh impossible, it seemed his mother's death had been made a certainty.
The nightmare had been an amalgamation of his worse fears; of everything he both knew and wished wouldn't happen to his family.
Of course, being trapped on Palaven, moving from place to place, hideout to hideout just trying to stay alive...its only a matter of time before the Reapers get to them.
That nightmare had left no doubt in his mind that, no matter how exhausted he was, he wouldn't be getting proper sleep anytime soon. When the anaesthetic lost its grip on his consciousness, he woke, feeling a dull ache and sting of pain within his face. He groaned, surprised that the sound actually came out, despite it being a significantly lower octave than usual, coming out more as a strangled growl than a groan. Nevertheless, Chakwas and Michel's surgery had been successful, and his mandibles had been repositioned, with numerous stitches holding them in place until they properly healed; even then, he would likely have scars.
Doesn't matter. Just more for the ladies.
He allowed himself a smirk at that, even though his stitches stretched in disapproval, a sting slicing up both sides of his face. He ignored it, already used to the pain and already somewhat embracing it, as the pain he was going through now was nothing compared to the agony he had experienced before. His face had been properly cleaned up, with any blood, dry or wet, being wiped away. It was difficult to talk, but he managed to get what he needed to say across well enough.
When he had left the medbay, Marcus was still there, sleeping peacefully while under a general anaesthetic. Tali had been in the mess hall, eating her lunch while explaining that Chakwas had forced fed Marcus a general anaesthetic to finally let his wounds heal properly; before that, he had promised that the two of them would return to the surface, just the two of them, to enjoy what time they had left on Rannoch before taking care of other business elsewhere in the galaxy. At that point, Tali had revealed to him her intention to relinquish her admiral's position to another, and that she would be coming with them.
That thought alone made Garrus smile. The dextro squad, back together again. Kicking ass with style, saving enough energy for sarcasm and ironic banter and making it back in time for a cold beverage or two...and with Kaidan and Liara? Add Wrex, and this could be the good old days all over again.
Two hours later, Marcus had woken up and recovered sufficiently for Chakwas to finally let them go; Marcus and Tali had then proceeded to grab their things, acquire their picnic (courtesy of Gardner) and left for the surface for their quality time. Not long after that however, the geth had tried to request Marcus' permission to have the Normandy dock with one of their refit stations, as they had a few 'upgrades' they wanted to apply to the ship as a gift for all of their crew's hardwork. However, given that Marcus and Tali generally wanted to be left alone for more than a few hours, Marcus and Tali had pretty much ordered that if anything short of a Reaper assault was happening, than Garrus, his XO, the ship's XO, to handle it.
Besides, it was just the geth being polite, right? Giving the Normandy somewhere to dock...right?
And so Garrus had given the order, and Joker and EDI had quickly, and carefully, guided the ship into dock with the station. Garrus, bored of his surroundings already and banned from doing anything remotely exerting by Chakwas (a woman he had no intention of crossing), decided to board the station and watch whatever the geth had in store for the Normandy.
Apparently, the geth definition of 'upgrades' included more than a few extra cannons or better shields.
So, as he stood at one of the station's many observation windows (as apparently this refit station was yet again another repurposed quarian space station), his arms crossed, he watched the geth at their work, the Normandy's large bulk sitting idlely between the two 'prongs' that made up the station's shape. The refit station reminded Garrus much of a tuning fork shape; alot like a giant U. Inbetween both prongs was the Normandy, hovering as at least over a hundred geth workers swarmed over the ship, either walking along its hull or gliding across it as small sparks flew from its hull, along with the obvious occassional spare parts moving across the void inbetween, geth gliding the pieces towards the ship as they prepared to add them to the cruiser-dreadnought's frame.
One of the geth workers, a trooper platform, had told him that the upgrades being applied to the ship would make it one of the most advanced in the UGC armada, and significantly more powerful. Tali's cyclonic barrier was, still, brand-new kinetic barrier technology that even the geth had not applied yet; however, seeing it, they saw flaws in its design that could be potentially dangerous in a prolonged engagement. Seeing this, the geth had to set to work improving this, as well as improving upon the silaris armor plating by reinforcing it with armor of their own. Other little things were also added; javelin torpedo ammo was provided to restock the Normandy's supply after the battle with Oblivion, and other small things such as overall performance in flight were fortified with geth tech.
What truly excited Garrus was the new technology, geth technology, that was being applied especially for the Normandy. The geth had reasoned that the Normandy was technically the flagship of the UGC, and therefore the most important; for this, it needed to be able to fight the Reapers more efficiently. Garrus had also explained to the geth that a Cerberus sister ship, the CAW Deliverance, was exactly the same as the Normandy as it was now, and that when they had to face the vessel again, the Normandy would have lost its previous advantage; they needed an edge over the Deliverance if they were to destroy it.
And the geth had the perfect solution.
Garrus watched as the geth, having carved a temporary hole in the ship's stern (towards the engines), moved a large, bulky looking device towards the rear, while geth began to move thousands of individual little plates towards numerous sections of the vessel; the material was unlike anything Garrus had seen; they looked like giant mirrors, with a steel finish that made them look almost metallic in appearance. The ship wasn't entirely covered in them, but the geth seemed to be strategically placing them along the ship's dorsal, ventral, starboard and port sides, placing one after the other and grafting them into place like bits of skin in a surgical operation. The efficiency was staggering.
The device in question was the geth's latest toy; the cloaking device. It looked big, but compared to the Normandy's Tantalus drive core, it was about half the size. The geth had elected to place it at the back of the ship, just above the drive core, where no critical systems would be interrupted or hindered. If Garrus had to guess, the plates that the geth were placing were likely pylons for the device, with the device powering them as the plates reflected the light back from the ship, therefore allowing it to cloak. The fact that the Normandy would be the first non-geth ship to have access to this technology was only outmatched by the fact that the Deliverance did not possess it; it used the basic IES stealth system, which, because of the cloak, was now rendered obsolete as the cloaking device hid both the ship and its heat emissions.
What had once been state-of-the-art tech that the Alliance was proud of was now entirely obsolete, but Garrus certainly couldn't complain about the benefits.
The second bonus was, just infront of the hole where they were placing the device (which would then be covered back up, if the floating fits of armor and hull currently being held in place above the opened section was any indicator), was the foundations for one of the geth's ship-to-ship plasma cannons. The geth called the weapon a 'Type-85 Anti-Ship Exterior Mitigator'. Obviously only a bite out of the burger compared to the super-dreadnought's main gun, but the weapon was just small enough that one could be outfitted on the Normandy. Obviously plasma-based, the T85 plasma cannon could auto-lock onto any enemy target (other than fighters and small corvettes) and would fire a long, bright purple beam of plasma energy; the shot in question was capable of slicing through the shields of a heavy cruiser, and would punch a whole through even the toughest of dreadnought armor. Due to its slow rotation speed however, it was largely only effective against ships of destroyer weight and above, but was devastating against carriers and dreadnoughts.
Against a Reaper...well, it was yet to be tested on a Reaper so far, but they'll get their chance at some point.
Overall, both of these upgrades would allow the Normandy to once again prove a match against a Cerberus vessel, if not allow them to completely conquer the Deliverance.
Doesn't matter what you copy, Cerberus. We'll always make ours better. Besides, bet Cerberus doesn't have cloaking tech or directed energy weapons.
Just seeing the foundation for the plasma cannon filled Garrus with excitement; a new weapon other than the thanix to calibrate would definitely put more work on Garrus, especially since he had no experience in even calibrating a plasma weapon; no one other than the geth did. But it would be an interesting challenge, and Garrus looked forward to it.
The geth hadn't started building the gun yet, as they were focused on first getting the cloak into place. But as it was, Garrus knew the geth; being far more efficient and expedient than organics, the geth would likely finish the installation of both, as well as the other upgrades, within two days, probably even less. And until then, Garrus would be content to watch the construction.
Can't wait to see the look on Marcus' face when he sees this.
Of course, Garrus was aware by now that he wasn't the only one admiring the view.
With a grumble, he turned, speaking. Pain flared up the sides of his face, and what sound he made was barely legible, but Garrus was content to simply let his companion know that he knew they were there, "You cansh comes ot no."
The sound of a tactical cloak deactivating sounded next to him, and he saw the reflection of her in the window; she had barely moved as her cloak evaporated around her, revealing her form to be leaning against the wall behind him, her arms crossed and a glint to her eyes; despite the obscurity her hood offered her face, her smile was unmistakable, "You shouldn't talk while you eat, Garrus."
He turned to glare at her, "Im notch eting enything."
"I know, but that's what you sound like you're doing when you try to talk," the thief retorted.
He turned back to the window, silent. I wanted to be alone.
"You're awfully quiet, Garbear. You're stealing my job," she piped up after a few moments, still not moving from her position by the wall, "Yet again, I guess its hypocritical of me to accuse you of that, ain't it?"
I want to be alone. With my thoughts.
And yet you're not asking her away, Garrus.
He nodded, and made no further sound. From what he could see of her in the window's reflection, she moved. Outside, a geth hopper dashed across the window, carrying what looked to be a piece of armor on its back. As quickly as he had seen it, it was gone.
You like her. Just admit it.
She's a human. I don't even...I don't even find her attractive. Humans are just...just...
Ugly?
I was looking for a more adequate mind, but thank you...consciousness...I guess?
Its what you were thinking.
Finally, the thief moved, walking towards him before stopping right beside him. She didn't look at him, she simply left him to his thoughts as she too looked blankly out at the ship before them. Finally, with a chuckle, she turned to him, crossing her own arms, "You know, with a ship like this...I could probably rob the Bank of the Citadel now. And that big cannon? I'm sure you'll have plenty of time to calibrate it, yeah?"
He finally looked at her, nodding slightly. You're human. I'm a turian. It wouldn't be proper.
You're not a very good turian.
I don't need to be the worse, though. Besides...what can I compliment her on? How do humans even compliment each other? What do they find attractive?
She spoke again, looking up at him, "Silent treatment? Come on, Garrus. I find it more fun when you actually give me ammunition."
Waist? Could I compliment those? Or her...scalp? Yeah, I could compliment that.
Why am I even thinking of this? She's a human, I'm a turian. It could never work. Besides, we're just friends. Good friends. She's a thief, and I'm a man of the law...or was, anyway...
Do people kiss their friends? Or have you forgotten what happened at Marcus' wedding?
He squinted his eyes, shaking his head as he banished those thoughts. Not helping. Its just harmless flirting; she's not serious about it, and neither am I. Its not as if she actually likes me, anyway. She's too busy mourning her dead human boyfriend to even contemplate a relationship with someone else...especially an alien.
He was surprised at...bitter his thoughts had become in that instant. Where did that come from?
"Look, the Normandy is pretty and all, but its hardly a reason to completely ignore me," Kasumi reasoned, looking up at him through her hood. Still receiving no answer, she sighed, shaking her head as her hands landed on her hips, "What's wrong with you? This isn't you, Garrus. Where's the jokes?"
"Dont wan to tahlk," he blurted out, lowering his head, "Just...liv me alown." Talking was becoming too much of a pain, and he just wished she would leave him alone.
I want to be alone.
And yet I don't.
Shit.
"Oh, why didn't you just say that then?" Kasumi scoffed, shaking her head as she turned to leave, "I'll leave you alone then."
No...
His head whipped to face her, the thief already turning to walk away, the swagger to her step absent, as if Garrus shrugging her off had genuinely affected her in a negative way, "Dont gow."
What are you doing?
The thief stopped, turning towards him with a cocked head, "What? I thought you said you don't want to talk to me?"
I don't.
I do.
Damn it!
A maelstrom of feelings impacted Garrus all at once, confusing him to no end. On the one hand, he wanted to be left alone to admire the Normandy in silence...he needed something to distract him from the thoughts of his family; a distraction that he sorely needed if he was going to keep his own morale up. He wanted to be alone, and didn't want to have to worry about his confused feelings regarding Kasumi.
I shouldn't find her attractive. I don't. She's a human. She's...odd. All that hair, skin...its just not...right. Its too smooth. Even the asari have skin.
Then why do I want her to stay? Why? If she's not attractive, why do I like her?
I don't!
Bullshit!
My father wouldn't approve! Solana would be disgusted!
"I dont," he spoke once more, finding words hard to come by. I don't like her. I don't. She's just a friend, nothing more. I don't like her. I don't like her!
I just...I don't want to be...
I don't want to be alone.
I don't.
I really don't.
"My famerlee," he spoke, his words continuing to be barely intelligible, "They ar trappt on...Palven. They culd be...ded. I...mss tem."
His face screamed in protest, but he couldn't remain silent any longer. He didn't want her to leave him, not like this. Not alone, with only the cold walls to keep him company. The interior of the station was icy in temperature, seeping through his basic armor to nip at his hardened body. He winced at every nip, and despite his suit's internal heating system working overtime to heat him up, the sheer cold of space had done a number on the the station's internal corridors; oxygen was about all the geth could provide in this circumstance.
She must have understood, as she stopped and turned back towards him, leaning on one side and crossing her arms, "I'm sorry, I didn't know that. I'm sure they're alright."
That's what Marcus said to me, and what I said to him when he told me he didn't know what had happened to his mother after Earth. Its a delusion. We can be sure all we like, doesn't make it true. For all I know, my family is dead. Dad, sis, mum. Mum wouldn't even be able to defend herself if she was attacked.
He felt his heart breaking, his lungs seizing up as it almost became difficult to breathe. The Reapers...they're everything we feared...my family...I won't even know they're alive until this is all over. What if I come home to a funeral? My entire family...wiped out, and I wasn't even there when it happened...
"Hey," a hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing it. He looked up, seeing Kasumi looking him in the eyes, "You can't worry about whether or not they'll be alright, Garbear. You've got to focus on now. I had parents on Earth when the Reapers hit."
That surprised him, his eyes widening. He figured that was enough to get the thief to explain.
She sighed, shaking her head, "Yes, I've got parents silly. But I ran off when I was young. Became a thief. Travelled the seas, while they had INTERPOL chasing after me; but I was smarter; I wanted adventure, and I thought I'd be able to find that in space. Stowed away on the closest flight I could find; took me right to Bekenstein; I guess that's where my life truly began. My parents never did see me again...but I've been keeping track of them. They never left Japan; neither of them really did have an adventurous heart. Half the reason I ran away in the first place," she looked down at the ground, seemingly saddened by her own thoughts, "I planned on visiting them, to at least show them I was alive. They wouldn't approve of my exploits, but I'd at least get to see them. But there was always some new contract...and then came Keiji. Once I met them, I almost entirely forgot about my parents. Then Keiji died, I got caught up in revenge, and then I joined the Normandy. By the time I could finally visit them...it was over. Earth had fallen."
He looked down at her sympathetically, realizing that she too, despite having a loose connection with her own family, was worried for her own. They too were stuck on their homeworld, unable to escape, their fates left unknown due to the lack of outbound comm traffic from the planet. Not being an emotional person, he lacked the words to convey his sympathy, and just looked at her dumbly.
Finally, she composed herself, laughing as she turned away, removing her hand as if she had just realized it was still there, "Well, that was sappy. You know what we all need? To stop focusing on dead families and start fighting to preserve them."
But what if my fight is pointless and they're already dead? How do I truly know?
She turned, waving out at the Normandy, "Besides, with what Shep has done...we could win this war sooner than you think. We could go home within a few weeks, Garrus. The only way we can continue fighting is if we continue to believe they're alive. Even if it is a delusion we fight for."
He smiled down at her, and then turned to face the window once more, sighing, "Nevr took you far a filosofer. Im suposssed to be the solger."
The thief cringed, laughing, "Oh...please stop, Garry. Stop...talking. You're making me uncomfortable."
He glared back down at her, noticing her smirk. He shook his head, turning to look back out the window, "I cant halp it."
"Let your mandibles heal, then we'll talk," the thief quipped. After a moment, she began to shake, and when he turned to her, he noticed it was stiffled laughter. Frowning at her for a few moments, he finally mustered the ability to speak.
"Wats so funee?"
She managed to rein in her laughter long enough to speak, "I just realized what I said was a pun. 'Then we'll talk'? Get it?"
After a few moments of blankly staring at her, he spoke again, still frowning, "You humen's ar weerd."
"Oh...don't be such a dino," she retorted, huffing as she turned back to look out the window, "You're such an...alien."
"But you luv me."
She stopped for a moment, looking up at him, her smile slowly disappearing. After a moment, he realized what he had said and how it had sounded, and he mentally slapped himself for it. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid! Stupid stupid stupid stupid STUPID!
You don't like her!
Well, maybe a little!
Not at all! She's hideous!
That's a tad bit over the top, don't you think?
Well...she's not hideous...
Looking at her, he couldn't help but find some parts of her...endearing. Although I still don't understand why human women have those...things...on their chest. What are they supposed to be, anyway?
Then Kasumi giggled, completely overlooking what he had said, allowing his internal, mental alarms to stop blaring, "Don't start getting all sentimental, you old turian. I'm not nearly dense enough for that."
Yet you kissed me.
Oh...come off it already, you terrible turian!
He nodded, grinning, "I supoze you hav a pont."
"Back to my point, though," she looked up at him, her smile gone, "I really do understand how you feel, Garrus. Don't ever think you're the only one suffering here. I bet everyone on the Normandy has loved ones somewhere out there that are either dead or suffering and there is nothing they can do about it. But that's why we're here...to do something about it."
He nodded, conceding her point, although it didn't make him feel any better, "Theyr stil stuk don there. I cant do anythink to heelp them."
"But that's why you're here, isn't it?" she shrugged, hands hanging at her side, "You're here to save them; to help Shep build his big armada and wipe out the Reapers. Once we deploy the Crucible, they'll be finished."
"Thats the think, Ksumi," he groaned back, leaning his head forward until it rested against the cold glass. The glass itself was six inches thick, making it incredibly durable; it was not only bulletproof, but could probably even withstand a single cruise missile impact. So he could be forgiven for feeling safe when he was near it, "I dont no if Im saving corses or not. They culd alredy be ded for al I no."
"Then you continue fighting regardless," she offered as a solution to his inner torment, "I don't know much about turians, but I know they certainly wouldn't want you to roll over and die. They'd want you to keep fighting, Garrus. The team is counting on you to keep fighting. Marcus needs you, both as his XO and best friend. No Shepard without Vakarian, yeah?"
He nodded meekly, "Yeah, guess your right. Just got so caught up in my concern for them that I didn't bother to think about what we're doing. We've all had to make sacrifices in this war; perhaps leaving my family behind to help Marcus was mine. And...well, who knows. Maybe this war really will end in a couple of weeks and we can all back to the way things were before."
Kasumi just laughed, shaking her head with disagreement, "You and I both know Garrus that things will not go back to normal after the war is over; at least not right away. You don't just survive a massive, galactic-spanning holocaust and shrug it off like it was nothing. Even the Council took some time to recover after the Rachni Wars, and even longer after the Krogan Rebellions. But I get what you mean; for me, I'll be going back to stealing once things have returned to normal."
The turian sighed, crossing his arms as he looked at her, "You realee shuld luk for a new job, Ksumi. Theres no futur in thef."
The thief just pouted, poking her tongue out at him with a smirk, "I'll be the judge of that, dino. Right now, let me have my 'delusions.' Its all I got."
"Far enof," Garrus replied, nodding.
"Now really, please stop ruining the moment by talking," she replied, grinning as she hit him in the arm with a light punch, "Let's just enjoy the moment, shall we? We won't get many of them. A matter of fact, my life in the past year has been far more hectic than the last twenty. I should never have signed up for that suicide mission."
I'm glad you did.
He remained silent, nodding simply as he complied with her wishes, turning back to simply look out at the Normandy as it sat there peacefully, the two of them pensive as they simply enjoyed the moment for what it was; complete silence. A rare commodity in their war of survival.
They wouldn't find another like it, even if their feelings for each other were a jumbled mess.
"So what about the formation of the Rannochian Coalition?"
- Reia'Inas pav Earth.
"I'm getting there."
- Marcus Shepard.
A/N:
Yeah, this is definitely shorter than my usual chapters; but considering my original plan for this chapter, this one is just a cut down version. And yes, you read this correctly: the Normandy is getting a plasma cannon and a cloaking device! FUCK YEAH!
The next chapter will be a meeting between the quarian and geth leadership, and will finally wrap up the quarian-geth arc; after that, we'll be back to worldbuilding. I won't tell you which DLC will be up first; that'll be up to you to think of. It'll be either be Omega or Leviathan: I'm saving for Citadel for towards the end of the story. Omega will not be as innovative, but I've got a few things planned for Leviathan, and definitely a few interesting things coming with Citadel. But that's all I say.
We're nearing the end guys; its still a while yet, but the UGC is REALLY building up! I honestly cannot wait for the final battle; THAT'LL be the fun part to write.
Until then,
Keelah Re'lai, troopers!
