Chapter Three
And the Present is Trivia
Macapá, Brazil
Of all the circumstances you could possibly be in at this point in your life, this is by far the most humiliating, Miranda Lawson told herself as she slithered through the thick, cloying mud on her belly. Her keen hearing picked up the sound of a weapon tapping against the ceramic plates of a hardsuit up ahead. She instinctively ducked her head. The movement earned her a mouthful of mud. She could not even spit it out for fear of making a sound. The Alliance might have let you stay on the Normandy but you didn't even ask. You could have had relative comfort, reasonable hours and edible food, not to mention a live-in lover. Whoever it was moving up ahead was doing a lousy job of remaining concealed. Miranda could hear not only the sound of movement, but also hoarse breathing of someone who was either out of shape, or terrified. But no, instead you volunteered for this existence - crawling on your stomach through filth, being yelled at by meat-heads and living in a fucking communal bunkhouse. Every night she collapsed on her rack, exhausted and far too close to a snoring recruit to even contemplate relieving the dull ache that crept between her legs when she thought about Ashley for more than ten seconds. This hell is self-inflicted, Lawson.
With excruciatingly careful movements, Miranda manoeuvred her rifle into a firing position. It was only when she trained it at the head for a killing blow that she caught the red flashes on the helmet and realised that the lousy excuse for a soldier was supposed to be on her team. If it had not already done so, the way he was crashing through the undergrowth was sure to attract enemy attention. Miranda had already scoped out a Blue team pocket less than a dozen metres to the right of her position. Deciding that she could risk warning him, she levered herself out of the mud and rolled behind the scant protection offered by a nearby tree.
"Fisher!" she hissed in a low voice. "Get down!" The recruit's head jerked from side to side gormlessly as he searched for the source of the sound but he made no attempt to seek cover. Miranda growled inwardly and peered around the side of the tree so he could see her. "Fisher!"
The burly recruit's face broke into a relieved smile when he saw her. "Lawson? Thank fucking god. I thought I was out here on my-"
His shoulder was suddenly whipped backwards by the force of an electrical slug slamming into the training suit. Fisher was knocked down, his face contorted with pain as the jolts surged through his body. While the pain wasn't agonising, the practice slugs were supposed to incapacitate a recruit in a realistic manner. Fisher was currently rolling around in the mud, squealing as though he'd taken a real hit.
"Christ, is this shit supposed to hurt like this?" he demanded, clutching at his arm.
Fuck. The bleating fool was going to bring the entirety of Blue team down on top of them in a matter of seconds. Barred from using her biotics or tech powers within the training scenario, Miranda unloaded several slugs in the direction from which the shot had originated. She then scrambled forward and seized Fisher by the most accessible handhold available – the rim of his helmet. She dragged him backwards through the mud, hardly caring that the chin strap was probably digging into his flesh. As she moved, she cursed both Fisher and the Blue team meat-heads for being such crap shots. If they'd scored a killing blow in the first place, then she could have left Fisher shrieking in the mud and moved position without being detected.
"This is your fault, you stupid bitch!" Fisher accused. "You gave away my position!"
Miranda did not even dignify his accusation with a response as she dragged him behind a solid outcrop of rock. When she lifted her head and scanned for pursuers, several slugs passed overhead. She brought up her omni-tool. "This is Red five, Red nine is down in sector two. We're still half a klick west of the objective. Request fire support two points north of my position."
Less than ten seconds later, heavy electrical rounds suddenly crashed down practically on top of Miranda and Fisher's cover. With a flurry of expletives on her lips, Miranda dragged the other marine down a steep slope to their right, sliding several metres before they splashed to a halt in a stream bed.
Miranda turned to Fisher. "Okay, it's a flesh wound in your arm, you can walk," she informed him with cold efficiency. "I'm getting you back to our lines and finding out what the hell Mitchell is doing with this squad before we're cut to ribbons."
"It hurts!" Fisher protested.
For a moment Miranda felt sorry for him. The kid was barely eighteen, puppy fat still clinging to his saggy jowls. He'd lost most of his family when the Reapers hit the bread basket of the American Midwest. Then her mouth set into a grim line of determination. No one could afford to be that young or that soft anymore.
"On your feet, soldier!" she hissed in his face. It was then that she realised that Fisher wasn't carrying his assault rifle. "Where's your weapon?"
Fisher glanced around and eventually shrugged. "Dunno, must have lost it."
Miranda groaned yet again. You chose this life, Lawson. "Get going, I'll cover us."
Half an hour later, with Fisher's asthma starting to act up, Miranda prodded his sorry arse over the make shift barricade around Red team's stronghold. The kid collapsed, wheezing and demanding a drink of water from his squadmates. Although her own physical conditioning was exemplary, Miranda was nevertheless drained from having to lug Fisher's heavy-set body when he tried to give up. She could feel sweat making tracks through the dried mud on her face as their Squad Leader approached with a stormy expression on her face. Lisa Mitchell undoubtedly had potential, unfortunately she let her arrogance get in the way all too often. Mitchell's arrogance was only exceeded by Miranda's own, but she was close to perfection- the other recruit was not.
"Where the hell is the rest of my scout team?" Mitchell demanded.
"Probably escorting themselves off the battlefield as KIA," Miranda replied in acidic tones. "That lump you assigned as sub-team leader led them straight into opposition lines. I suggest reviewing your strategy to incorporate a little creativity instead of something you've learned out of the manual-" Miranda cut herself short, realising that her own attitude was not conducive to a productive squad relationship. She brought up a map of the terrain on her omni-tool. "Okay, I managed to get a good look at their positions…here, here and here. Blue's properly entrenched, their position's too static. I suggest if half the squad use this approach…here, we'll be able to flank them and drive them straight into the rest of the squad.
"Flushing movement?" Mitchell's eyebrows lifted hopefully.
"Precisely," Miranda agreed.
Mitchell grinned. "Okay, Lawson, you've got the flanking team. Let's show these Blue bastards that Red isn't going down without a fight."
Several hours later, Miranda was so exhausted it was all she could do to cling to the side of the M35 Mako as it made its way back towards their base. Overhead the sun had dipped low, casting long shadows on the ground. They'd been at manoeuvres since the previous morning – thirty-eight hours without sleep and only a couple of protein bars to eat. However, the mood was quietly jubilant. Three more days – mostly consisting of formalities – and they would pass out of OCS. While Miranda was under no illusions that her new career would be easy post-graduation, she did at least hold out hope of doing something worthwhile.
And there was the prospect of an entire week's leave with the incredibly enticing Commander Williams. That was an incredibly pleasant thought.
"Hey, Lawson?"
Miranda was interrupted mid-daydream. She turned to see Mitchell looking toward her expectantly from the other side of the Mako. Sweat had plastered the recruit's hair to her head. With her helmet off and much of the dirt scrubbed from her face, Mitchell looked impossibly young.
"I never thanked you for today," the recruit admitted in a staunch voice. "Or any other day for that matter. From the start, I thought you were this high and mighty bitch, but…I've learned more from you than most of the instructors on this damn course."
With a small smile on her face, Miranda inclined in head in acknowledgement. "Thanks, Mitchell. You were right about one thing all along though...I am a bitch."
As Mitchell and a few of the other recruits laughed at Miranda's comment, the woman herself found a spot where she could lie back against the Mako's accelerator cannon and closed her eyes. The gentle whine of the engine and the relatively flat terrain as they neared base lulled her into a half-slumber.
"Lawson?" It was another of the recruits sitting immediately to her right. Miranda cocked an eye open to show that she was listening reluctantly. "Can you tell us about The Shepard? I mean, we hear all these stories in the news…but it's so…manufactured. We all know that you served on the Normandy. You knew her. What was she really like?"
"Do you think it's fucking story time, Ward?" she asked wearily. While it was no secret that she had been on the Normandy during the Battle for Earth, the rest of her past – Cerberus, the Lazarus Project, the Suicide Mission – was classified behind a mountain of red tape. At the start of OCS Miranda had been approached on several occasions with curious recruits asking questions about The Shepard. 'Fuck off' was the politest of her responses. As she stared at Ward's earnest expression, and those of the other recruits, she relented with a small sigh. "Firstly, stop calling her that-"
"The Shepard?" one of the recruits piped up.
Miranda glared. "Yes, her name is Shepard…" She paused as she dwelled on her use of the present tense. Her name was Shepard. Did it matter? Nothing would change the fact that she was dead, but more than a part of Miranda wanted to hold onto her as she was in life. "The last thing Shepard would have wanted is a title, firstly because it singles her out as some sort of hero and secondly because it makes everyone else around her sound like a flock of sheep. She would have been the first to admit that she didn't do anything alone."
Everyone was staring at her. Listening eagerly. You're drawing far too much attention to yourself, Lawson, she scolded. Still, it felt good to talk about Shepard. She'd tried with Ashley, but the marine always withdrew from the conversation – preferring to be silent rather than risk breaking down.
"All the recruitment posters show her looking really serious," Mitchell piped up. "Did she ever smile?"
The SA recruitment posters were holographic advertisements employing young people to join up and help restore humanity in the wake of the Reaper War. Some featured Shepard alone, others depicted her leading a squad of human soldiers. The latest series that had emerged even used Ashley as one of their poster-soldiers – a fact which led to a string of expletives when her lover found out. "They've made me look like a fucking vid actor. Look at the size of my tits! Not to mention the fact that I'm carrying a Mantis in one of them…a piece-of-shit Mantis. When Vakarian finds out, he's going to have a field day!"
Miranda eventually shrugged. "She was serious…and also, at times, pig-headed, stupid and emotionally stunted – your typical marine." Laughter followed. Miranda had to grin along with them. She had too many memories of Shepard being all of those things, often at the same time. "Occasionally she could be a sanctimonious arsehole…but she had a wicked sense of humour. And she looked stunning in an evening dress."
"Seriously, Commander Shepard wore an evening dress?" Ward asked incredulously.
"I don't think you'll find those particular images anywhere on the extranet," Miranda added. "Shepard had them expunged from the Normandy's records." And Kasumi probably took the rest to her grave.
"I heard rumours she was involved with that asari…what was her name?" Mitchell began.
Two recruits replied at once, "Liara T'Soni."
Mitchell nodded. "That's her…part of the original Normandy crew. Is that true?"
It was a simple enough question, but one that Miranda did not know how to respond to. They were entering the gates of the base as she stared outwards with a reflective expression. "Shepard was a very private person-"
"Commander Shepard would never have been involved with a damn squid," a recruit who had not previously been a part of the conversation spoke up. Miranda turned to look at her with narrow eyes. Her name was Newton - ordinarily she was quiet and kept to herself. "They were still hiding on Thessia while we were dying by the millions."
Several assenting responses echoed Newton's sentiments as Miranda looked around incredulously.
"Not to mention the fact that they've been keeping us out of galactic politics for years," Newton continued. "Ever seen those lab rats in a tube? That's exactly what humanity is like with the asari. They keep you distracted with their smiles and their tits, all the while they're bleeding humanity dry."
There was a chorus of responses as several recruits spoke over one another.
"But those tits!"
"It was The Shepard who saved the Galaxy, not the squids or any other goddamn alien."
Emboldened by the support she was receiving, Newton continued her tirade, "Fucking squids are nothing but whores -"
Without pausing to look at who had spoken, Miranda trussed the recruit up in a biotic field and left her dangling over one of the Mako's wheels. Her struggles to free herself only ended up with her helmet bouncing against the wheel as Miranda held her in place. Just the simple field was enough to tax her in her exhausted state.
"The asari, the krogan, turians, quarians…every race in the galaxy bled to stop the Reapers. Individuals like Liara T'Soni, Garrus Vakarian, Tali'Zorah, Mordin Solus, Legion, and Urdnot Grunt," Miranda felt her eyes burn as she rattled off the names of some of Shepard's squadmates. "Those are the heroes who should be on those fucking recruitment posters. They are Shepard's family."
The Mako ground to a halt as they reached the depot. With a contemptuous shove, Miranda released the helpless recruit and she fell into the mud below. Without turning to look at the rest of the recruits, she scrambled down from the Mako. A part of her regretted losing her temper, but she hoped that she had at least caused some of the meat-heads to reconsider their xenophobic views.
"Recruit Lawson!" Miranda looked up ahead to see one of the adjutants clearly waving at her. She frowned, knowing that it was much too soon for her little stunt to have reached the brass. "You're to report to Colonel Jian immediately."
As the adjutant walked away, Miranda looked down at herself. She was undeniably the filthiest she had ever been. Half the mud in the jungle had tried to accompany her back to base. Her hardsuit was coated in the stuff, clinging to the crevices and flaking off as she moved. She doubted Ashley would hug her in her present state.
With a detour only to scrub the mud and dried sweat from her face, Miranda found herself sitting outside Jian's office minutes later. Since she had arrived at Macapá, she had virtually nothing to do with him other than observing him from a distance and helping herself to his dossier during one of her forays into the base's secure systems. His career seemed unremarkable up until the invasion, then he had led one of the most successful resistance movements in Asia. What was included in his dossier was largely irrelevant, Miranda was far more interested in what had been omitted – most notably that he had attended university with Charles Saracino, leader of the pro-human Terra Firma party. She was surprised that someone had taken the trouble to scrub such a tenuous link from his record.
I guess this is the point where they say thanks for your efforts, but we've reconsidered your enlistment, Miranda mused.
The prospect of returning to civilian life was no longer as attractive as it had once seemed. The likelihood of her being permitted to remain on board the Normandy was slim and she had exhausted most of her resources during the war trying to stay one step ahead of her father. For all the multitude of disadvantages that enlistment brought, she had never felt such conviction that she could do something worthwhile with her life.
Well, I was responsible for the success of the Lazarus Project, so technically…I saved the Galaxy.
She was moping over that thought when she was invited into Jian's office. The Colonel himself was seated behind his desk and did not look up when she saluted smartly. A female Captain was standing slightly to the right. Miranda unfortunately could not study her without making her scrutiny overly obvious.
"I see congratulations are in order Second-Lieutenant Lawson. The highest scores ever achieved by a recruit at OCS." Jian still did not look up from the data pad he was reviewing in front of him.
"I would have expected nothing less of myself, Colonel," Miranda replied honestly. There was no hint of arrogance in her voice, much as there had been several years earlier when Shepard had accused her of being cocky during one of their earliest discussions.
"Although several of your instructors note that you have been disruptive," Jian pointed out.
Disruptive? That is putting it mildly, Miranda thought. "Yes sir." She kept her response brief as opposed to explaining how difficult it was to follow the orders of individuals who were younger, less experienced and infinitely less intelligent than she was.
"Why did you join Cerberus, Recruit Lawson?" the Captain's sudden intrusion on the conversation was blunt.
Miranda was finally able to turn and look at the woman. Her accent combined with dark black hair and bronze skin indicated that she was a native of Brazil. There was an obsidian-like quality to both her stare and her tone, but Miranda did not flinch.
"The Illusive Man hand-picked me for my abilities…my talents. It seemed the sort of organisation in which someone like me could make a real difference. They had the resources, I used them," Miranda explained. "At that time Cerberus was acting in humanity's best interests and I still maintain that-"
"Binthu, Pragia, Sigma-23?" The Captain added in a flinty tone.
Miranda stiffened imperceptibly. "Rogue cells-"
"And Akuze, Recruit? Evidence strongly suggests that Cerberus was behind the thresher maw attack which wiped out the 54th apart from Gunnery Chief Shepard."
"I fail to see where this line of questioning is going," Miranda replied hotly. As shattered as she was, it was difficult to keep her temper in check.
"Do you still have ties to Cerberus?"
"Absolutely none. When I resigned from Cerberus after helping Shepard defeat the Collectors I was black-listed and hunted by my former employer. I should think my war record speaks for itself if you are trying to ascertain my current loyalties."
The Captain's expression did not waiver for a moment, even when Miranda cast a quick glance toward Jian. The Colonel appeared unfazed by the line of questioning, to the point that he still had not bothered to look up at her. Miranda kept her mouth shut and remained content with imagining the startled look on the other woman's face when she was hurled out the window by a biotic throw.
"And where do those current loyalties lie? To the Systems Alliance…or the cult of Shepard?"
"The cult?" Miranda frowned. "Don't be absurd. Shepard was a remarkable woman…but she was just that, one woman. The restoration of Earth and its colonies as a whole lie in the hands of the Alliance, as well as its counterparts throughout the Galaxy. Thessia, Palaven…Tuchanka – Shepard forged those alliances during the war, more often than not with her own blood and the blood of her-"
"Relax, Lawson," Jian finally spoke up. His face creased into a smile. "Captain Alves is guilty of being a little over zealous at times-"
Alves? Miranda had to avoid frowning when she heard the name. That name sounds familiar.
"-rest assured, we are not questioning your loyalty or your future in the SA," Jian continued. "I just wanted to congratulate you prior to passing out and say that we're damned lucky to have you on our side. Dismissed, Lawson."
As Miranda Lawson saluted and turned to leave, Cristiane Alves watched her carefully. She waited until the door had closed and Miranda's footsteps had disappeared down the corridor before turning back to face Jian. Instead of speaking immediately, she crossed the room to stand in front of the desk. She clasped her hands behind her back in a contemplative pose.
"Clearly her sympathies are contrary to what we expected," Jian spoke first. Disappointment registered in his voice.
Alves kept her face an impassive mask. "No…I had my suspicions about Lawson. She was far too close to the late Commander Shepard and the motley gang of outcasts she called her crew. I knew she would be useless to us."
"You disagree with the decision to allow her to enlist? Should we rescind her commission?" Jian asked.
"When you've just congratulated her?" Alves sneered. "How would that look to the rest of the intake?"
Jian was slightly irritated at being spoken to in such a fashion by a mere Captain. He straightened in his chair but he still felt as though he was being spoken down to. "What are your recommendations then?"
"Send her to one of the frontier outposts, Ontarom…or, probably more appropriate, Mindoir," Alves suggested.
"The woman has three doctorates and you're talking about shipping her off to a backwater colony like some mere grunt?" Jian bristled.
"It's either that or get rid of her, which I would advise strongly against doing. Lawson was on the bridge of the Normandy throughout the Battle for Earth. If you asked most civilians, they'd consider her a hero, not knowing or caring that she was with Cerberus. Send her to Mindoir, it might help drive recruitment and it will put her in a position where she can't cause any dissention." Alves then frowned thoughtfully. "Assign her to the same unit as the other one."
Jian's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Surely we wouldn't deliberately place two of Shepard's known associates together?"
"I have it on good authority that the two of them can't stand each other. With any luck, they'll tear each other to pieces." A self-satisfied smirk crept onto Alves' face. "We'll be rid of both without having to lift a finger. I just wish I could see the expression on Lawson's face when she finds out."
SSV Normandy SR-2
The door to the main battery swished open. The noise was subtle but it was enough to startle someone who had most of his ungainly body wedged in between pieces of technology.
"Spirits!" Garrus cursed in pain.
"No one could ever accuse you of being flexible," Tali'Zorah vas Normandy joked as she entered the narrow space. "The real question of course is how did you get your fat head to fit into that narrow gap in the first place?"
Her boots made crisp sounds on the gangway as she marched toward her lover. Garrus turned to give her a wounded look as he rubbed at the crest of horns on his head. It was difficult for him to summon up any hint of annoyance in Tali's comforting presence. Any pain he felt diminished quickly as she beckoned him to lower his head. He had to suppress his un-Turian sigh of delight when her gloved fingers began to stroke the spines and downwards over his forehead and temples. Weeks of stress faded away beneath her gentle ministrations. It required a conscious effort on his part not to appear disappointed when her touch disappeared a few minutes later.
"I could do with a little more of that," he admitted.
When Tali placed her hands firmly on her hips, he could tell that she was giving him a long, hard stare behind her mask. He could see the faint glow of her eyes and knew that they were slightly narrowed. Spirits, I know I'm in trouble when she gives me that look.
"You haven't spoken to Ash, have you?" she asked.
Garrus' mandibles lowered a little. "As soon as my shift ends-"
"Don't pull that on me, Vakarian. I have your duty rosters memorized and I know for a fact that your shift was over seventeen minutes ago." She levelled her finger at his chest. "And don't even mention the 'c' word to me. It's not half as endearing as it used to be."
"Tali-"
"You promised, Garrus!" she interrupted. "We'll be in contact with the Moray and Admiral Raan tomorrow. Are you going to wait until we're leaving to explain things to the Commander?"
"Not exactly…"
Tali's stance shifted into one that resembled sympathy. She extended her hand and laid it against his broad chest. Wearing clothes as opposed to his hardsuit, she could feel the muscles rippling even through her gloves. "Are you having second thoughts?"
Garrus shook his head. "No…and yes. Ash needs us. We're just adding to the crewmembers who have abandoned the Normandy – Miranda, Javik, Liara, if we go too…"
"The Reapers have been defeated, our reason for being on the Normandy in the first place. I know we both think of this ship as home, but first and foremost it's still a human military vessel." Tali said the words reluctantly.
No one on board the Normandy resented their presence, but she felt a strong desire to leave on her own terms before she was told to. Miranda's reasons for leaving had been straightforward enough. The woman harboured a delusion that she ought to officially join the human military. While Tali cared for Ashley, she had never really seen eye to eye with Miranda Lawson. For all the changes she had undergone, Miranda would always be the Cerberus bitch with a rod up her ass.
Javik had departed for Thessia only a few weeks after the end of the war. He felt he owed some continued loyalty to the asari, and his ingrained distrust of Ashley meant that he could not accept her authority in the way he had accepted Shepard's.
The one crewmember whose departure Tali had not been able to understand was Liara's. She missed the asari's presence almost as much as she missed Shepard. It had been Liara who had patiently listened while she tried to explain the strange feelings that she was having in response to Garrus and had held her when she refused to accept the truth that she was in love with him. Now Tali could not imagine her life without the dry-humoured Turian, and Liara was out there alone.
As Garrus watched, she reached up and carefully unclipped her face mask so she could stare at him with her own eyes for a few moments. His expression softened when she let it fall. She wanted desperately to kiss him, even just a brief peck on the cheek so she could feel his rough skin against her lips. However, it was the difference between a simple cold and a severe infection. After an entire shift, Garrus' skin would potentially be host to any number of hazardous bacteria.
"You need to talk to her," Tali repeated softly, her voice sounding different without processors.
"I'll go now," Garrus murmured. A sigh escaped his lips when she replaced her mask all too soon. "And I'm sorry for my reluctance. I meant what I said when I promised to join you on Rannoch. I want to share in the rebuilding of your homeworld…it's just that I feel guilty that I have such a future to look forward to."
Without replying with words, Tali slipped into his arms and moulded the hard lines of her suit into the sharp angles of his body. It seemed as though it should be impossible for them to fit together as well as they did. Although Tali knew that there had once been a point in her life where she had imagined herself finding another Quarian to spend her life with, she found it difficult to recall such a time. Now there was only Garrus Vakarian – complete with his scars, dry wit that often wasn't remotely funny and his obsession with perfection. She could only hope that there was something worthwhile for him to calibrate on Rannoch.
Garrus eased himself out of Tali's embrace. The two of them walked as far as the elevator together. "EDI, where is Commander Williams?" the Turian asked.
{Commander Williams is in her quarters,} EDI replied immediately. {She has been awake for thirty minutes, but her behaviour has been… lethargic.}
"Hangover," they said in unison.
Garrus nodded and continued, "I'll make coffee."
The welcome Garrus received when he knocked on the door to the Crow's Nest ten minutes later was subdued. There was no answer to his hail, nevertheless the door unlocked and he was admitted. The lights inside were dimmed low and it took his eyes a few moments to adjust as he looked around. Given the scarcity of available resources, the Crow's Nest had not been refitted to suit the tastes of its new occupant. The fish tank was still to his left as he entered, although it was completely devoid of both fish and water. The empty glass box looked nothing short of depressing. Shepard's model collection had been completely untouched – every carefully collected item was mounted in the same place he remembered. Garrus crossed to the display, studying them with a fond eye as he remembered Shepard consulting him on the colour scheme for the Turian frigate. He did not linger long, instead carefully carrying the steaming mug of coffee down to where Ashley Williams sat on the sofa with her head in her hands. On the table in front of her were two glasses and an empty bottle of human alcohol.
"Late night, Ash?" he asked as he took a seat. He held the mug close to the ailing commander so the invigorating smell could waft to her nostrils.
Ashley jerked her head up almost immediately. Her haggard face brightened considerably when she saw his gift. "Garrus you wonderful, wonderful Turian. I could kiss you right now."
"I won't tell Miranda if you don't tell Tali," Garrus said with a wink.
The Commander gratefully accepted the coffee. Her sip was accompanied by a very satisfied slurp and rounded off with a sigh.
"This coffee tastes like absolute crap." Her words did not mirror her reaction. "Why couldn't Shepard have had a stash of the good stuff?"
They both knew full well that Shepard loathed the taste of coffee.
There was a sudden loud snort from the direction of the bed. Garrus looked up to realise that a small shape was curled up in the middle of Ashley's bed. Even as he frowned, the snort developed into full throated snores that sounded as though they ought to have emerged from a much larger creature.
"Is there something you're not telling me, Ash?" Garrus asked, observing that she appeared unbothered by the fact that there was someone, who obviously wasn't Miranda, in her bed.
"Traynor and I polished off that bottle of scotch at the end of our shift. Her claims about being able to handle her alcohol were greatly exaggerated." Ashley smirked. "When she passed out I dumped her in my bed. It was less likely to cause tongues to wag than carrying her back to her own bunk. And I felt sorry for her I guess. I didn't even realise she'd been pulling double shifts all week. It seems to me that the XO ought to bring matters like that to my attention."
Ashley watched Garrus over the rim of her cup as she took another sip.
"She made me promise not to tell you-"
"Garrus, whether she's your friend or not, Traynor's still an NCO, she doesn't get to dictate terms to the XO," Ashley reprimanded him in the sternest tone she could manage.
"We're under-strength, Ash. Half the crew are pulling double shifts and their Commander is not setting any sort of example. Your shift was up when we returned from the drop to Eden Prime – you pulled twelve hours solid groundside and another eight once we were back on the ship. Who's going to tell you to sort yourself out once I'm gone?"
There was a pregnant silence in the air when Garrus finished his sentence.
"So you are leaving?"
"Yeah."
"Rannoch?"
Garrus confirmed with a nod and Ashley suddenly became very interested in her coffee. She drained half of the cup and spent a great deal of time staring at the dregs before she said anything. "I'll be sorry to see you both go."
Garrus snorted. "You can admit it, Ash. After that stunt earlier, you'll be pleased to see the back of me. You were right, you know - we don't know what the hell Shepard would have done if she were still here."
"She'd probably be too busy making blue kids with Liara to care about the Normandy anyway," Ashley quipped sadly.
"Can you imagine her as a parent?" Garrus shook his head in disbelief.
"She always had enough trouble feeding and washing herself," Ashley replied, a broad smile forming on her face when she recalled Shepard's magnetic propensity to attract dirt. "Nor can I imagine her trying to do baby talk…"
Ashley's voice trailed off sadly. Somehow Garrus had tricked her into talking about the one subject she consciously tried to avoid. Miranda had often tried, but she had developed into the master of changing the subject or feigning disinterest. She wasn't sure why she reacted in such a manner, especially when Shepard was constantly on her mind. Some days, the Commander was the only subject she wanted to talk about.
"I miss her, Garrus," she admitted quietly. "I've lost comrades before – the entire two-twelve was slaughtered around me on Eden Prime. That still hurts three years later – but the Skipper was different…more than just a superior officer or a fellow marine. I guess, in thinking about it, she was like another sister. I know I've already got three, but she was the infuriatingly smug older sister I never had. The sister I tried to emulate despite falling short in every single way."
"Shepard wouldn't say you fell short," Garrus added. "She would be damn proud of you."
When tears burned in Ashley's eyes, she realised exactly why she avoided the subject. Even over six months after the Day of Days, the wound was still just as raw as it was at the moment the corona of heat and flame from the Crucible had slammed into Liara's barrier. Instinctively she reached for the bottle of scotch only to remind herself that it was empty and it was the reason for the dull ache behind her eyes.
"I won't be pleased to see the back of you, Garrus…or Tali, but I do wish you all the best." Ashley refused to scrub at her eyes, preferring to let a couple of errant tears track down her cheeks.
"Don't act like this is a permanent goodbye, Williams," Garrus reproached her in a gentle voice. "You're not getting rid of us forever."
"Damn." Ashley chuckled.
Ashley and Garrus were interrupted by a groan from the bed. The pair looked up to see Specialist Samantha Traynor sitting on the bed with her head in her hands. Her hair was sticking up at a number of interesting angles. When Ashley cleared her throat, the Specialist peered anxiously through her fingers.
"Oh god, I don't normally have an audience when I wake up," Traynor said in a mortified tone. She glanced around and her eyes widened when she realised that she was still in the Crow's Nest. "This cannot possibly be worse."
"Don't worry, Traynor," Ashley said. "You snore very prettily."
Fiordland, New Zealand
"Shepard!"
The abrupt violence of Liara's waking moments caused her weight to slide off the side of her bed. She landed hard on the freezing floor amidst a tangle of sweat soaked sheets. Rather than pick herself up, she lay in the cold with the sweat rapidly cooling to chill her to the bone. The cold was of very little consequence. Goddess. Crying out her dead lover's name as she woke was the first time Liara had spoken it aloud for months. In unconsciously breaking her own, harsh rule, Liara opened the floodgates on a torrent of emotional pain. As she lay on the floor, Shepard and her recurring dream became the sole focal point of her thoughts.
The dream had been virtually the same every night for the past week – the only changes being her increasingly emotional waking moments. Every morning she woke feeling drained and exhausted to the point where she wondered why she bothered sleeping at all.
In her dream, she found herself inside the Crucible alongside Shepard. It was what she had so desperately wanted that day in London – to be with Shepard at the end. However, her subconscious mind took Lucy Park's description of the actual events and twisted them into something altogether more grotesque and agonising. Every night, as she watched in helpless terror, the Catalyst was ripped from Shepard's chest while it was still fused with her beating heart. Even awake, Liara could remember the sickening, sucking sound of blood and the tearing of flesh.
Despite the mangled pulp of her heart no longer residing within her chest, Shepard somehow remained alive. Her blue eyes were open, pleading with Liara to do something to make the pain stop. Short of killing Shepard herself, there was absolutely nothing she could do other than hold her hand and offer hollow reassurances. There was now nothing that Liara could do to convince herself that the dream was not reality. As far as she knew, that was precisely how Shepard had died – except that she had been alone at the end.
When she eventually worked her way out of the sheets, Liara was too cold to bother with a shower. Instead she dragged on the same clothes she had worn the day before over her chilled limbs. She had remained on the floor for so long that her fingers were almost numb.
Switching onto autopilot, Liara padded her way to the kitchen. She stood in front of her food stores, but the thought of eating made her want to vomit before a bite had passed her lips.
When Liara found herself in front of her work-station, she did not remember walking the steps necessary to be in that position. Almost every screen demanded her attention in some form or another - from something as simple as authorising a payment, to backing the destabilisation of a potentially dangerous regime that had emerged on Tuchanka. Liara lifted her fingers and poised them above the haptic interface. All that was required was a slight twitch of each finger to commence, but she remained inert.
"Shepard." The whisper left her lips for no reason other than that she wanted to say the name deliberately. Almost as soon as her lips and tongue worked around the familiar syllables, she could not stop herself. "Commander. Evangeline. Shepard. Evan."
She dropped her arms to her side and her head slumped forward. For the past months, her routine and her strict rules had held her life together like glue – it offered stability and purpose. Now that it had begun to unravel, she struggled to feel an affinity with that purpose. Nothing had changed the indirect benevolence of the Shadow Broker's manipulations, what had changed was her desire to care about any of it. What was the good in rebuilding a world where hope did not exist?
Liara forced her body away from the console. The movement was such that it was as though some invisible force had grabbed her from behind and dragged her backwards. With awkward, jerky movements she followed the thick cables that trailed along the floor to her intended destination. Before she could dwell further on what she was about to do, her trembling fingers closed around the main power cable. With a vice-like grip she depressed the release handle. Steeling herself for just a moment, Liara yanked it out with savage finality. With the audible and instant power loss, the bank of monitors went dark. The haptic display on the console winked out and died altogether. As Liara slumped back onto her haunches, the once frenetic equipment sat silent and dead in front of her. With one movement, she had effectively done what others could only dream of doing. She had destroyed the Shadow Broker.
Unable to dwell on what she had just done, Liara found herself fleeing for the outdoors as she had done all too often over the past days. This time however she did not bother with the coat, dragging on only a pair of boots.
The winter sunshine outside was bright enough to make her squint, however it held little warmth. She shielded her eyes as she turned to regard the external walls of her home. Almost perfectly blended with the surrounding trees and jagged rock, little could be seen from the outside other than the sweeping curved windows set into the thermocrete bunker. A bank of solar panels was camouflaged to appear like a part of the tree canopy. As Liara stared at her home, she did not see a sanctuary, she saw a prison. That this was a prison of her own making did not matter.
When a blue of movement caught the corner of her eye, she dismissed it as local wildlife. It was only when she heard actual words that something inside her triggered to the presence of another individual.
"Hello there!"
The words were simple and innocuous, yet Liara responded with immediate, unrestrained fury. Barely turning around to mark her target, she launched herself across the distance. She felt the fierce thrill of the biotic charge for the first time since Omega. Her blood raced as her hands tightened around the throat of a human. Last time, she had ripped it out…this time she squeezed. As she felt a pulse thumping desperately beneath her fingers, Liara wanted nothing more than to laugh.
Gradually the exhilaration of the violence faded. As her senses cleared, Liara was left with the stark realisation that she was murdering an innocent man. She saw the desperation in his eyes, his lips peeled back as he struggled to breathe and knew that she had made a terrible mistake. Her grip slackened and he immediately slumped to his knees. As he knelt, he drew in a great, sucking breath. Liara reeled backwards, tripped and fell on her back.
When she picked herself up into a sit, she stared at the human male standing in front of her. Liara could see that he was relatively advanced in years according to the basic senescence of humans – his face was lined and the hair on his head, although thick, was completely silver in colour. While he wore a thick jacket to protect his upper body against the cold, he wore something that humans called shorts to cover his lower body. Between his thick woollen socks and the bottom of his shorts, his knees were bare. He carried a large backpack that looked as though it weighed as much as he did.
As he regained his feet, his expression left her confused and sick to her stomach. For someone who had been on the receiving end of a biotic charge and subsequently choked, he appeared remarkably calm. This unnerved Liara more than if he had responded with anger and violence.
"I am sorry," Liara whispered. Her voice was thick with shame as she scrambled to her feet. She started backing away slowly. "I am so sorry."
He held up both hands in a calming gesture and smiled. The response only served to make her feel even worse.
"It's okay, kid. Being stuck up here by yourself would be enough to make anyone a little homicidal…as beautiful as it is."
In between bristling at being called a kid by someone who was probably half her age and marvelling that he could make a joke about murder, Liara realised his accent reminded her of Miranda's. It was less nasal but with mangled consonants and muddied words that were initially difficult for Liara to understand.
When she did not reply, he continued, "The name's Peter Massey. I was employed by T'Loak's people to bring your supplies up here. Usually when I see you outside I wait until you've gone back inside…I don't know what came over me today. I guess I just felt like saying hi. Wrong choice!" He grinned again as though it had all been some silly joke. "Now I'm just going to take this pack off and get your stuff out. I'd really appreciate it if you don't start up with those biotics of yours again."
As Liara watched, he swung the pack down from his back with a relieved sigh. It took him only a minute to unstrap it, rummage around inside and withdraw two of the light containers Liara was used to retrieving from the supply cache outside her compound. She wanted to say something, to ask how he had ended up working for Aria and what the hell he was doing in this place, but at the same time she could not bring herself to speak. Instead she stared as he set her supplies down in front of her and began re-strapping his pack.
When it was resettled on his shoulders, he straightened and looked towards the direction from which he had just come. "I'd better be starting back. It was real nice to have met you…say, I never did get your name." He paused for a moment, but Liara did not offer it in response. Eventually he just grinned again and started backing away. "I'll try to be less intrusive in the future."
Although she had said barely a word to him, Liara watched the human leave for as long as she could see the bright red of his backpack bobbing through the trees. When all trace was gone – sight and sound – aside from the supplies at her feet, she felt distinctly bereft.
"My name is Liara T'Soni," she whispered as she slumped downwards once again. She landed hard on the cold earth. "I used to be the Shadow Broker…now I am nothing."
