Chapter Forty-One
The Coming Storm
Omega, Sahrabarik
Despite everything that had happened to Shepard in her adult life, the one constant was her ability as a soldier. Right from her graduation from boot, she possessed the confidence and the aptitude to do her job. Originally, she had been driven by the desire to prove something to her mother, before discovering that she had been born to be a marine.
Along the way several events had challenged that fact – Akuze, being named humanity's first SpecTRe, dying over Alchera, and being arrested after Bahak. However, nothing had changed the fact that she had been bloody good at her job. Then she'd gone and died for a second time and everything changed.
Shepard was desperately out of practice – if one even 'practiced war.' In her previous lives, the whole sad business came to her like second nature. Her actions were driven by instinct. The knowledge that there was a job to be done. Although still inherently present, anxiety and fear were always consigned to the back of her mind.
When Shepard clenched her fist, she found her palm sweaty. Somewhere in the constricted confines of her chest, her heart was hammering wildly. It required an effort to keep any trace of her body's betrayal as discreet as possible. However, as Liara cast yet another glance in her direction, Shepard knew that she was failing. Although they walked side by side, the air between them was heavy with tension. Liara had made her thoughts clear, but it was all futile. Shepard knew she wasn't ready, but this was the moment that became irrelevant. She needed to act. Everything else was pushed aside.
The conversation about children, just a few hours earlier, now seemed like nothing more than fanciful dreaming.
Shepard readjusted the rifle case she was carrying so she could reach out and press her hand to Liara's shoulder. The touch was enough to break the disruptive silence between them.
"I'm sorry for losing my temper," Shepard offered quietly. Speaking took her mind off everything else. As did brushing her thumb over the bare skin of Liara's neck.
"You hardly lost your temper. No more so than I did," Liara replied. Although she did not stop walking at her brisk pace, she met Shepard's gaze for a moment. "Evan, please do not think that my reticence means that this does not impact me. I care about the people on these worlds, about our friends."
"I know. I never meant to suggest you didn't." Shepard let her hand fall to her side. Although she missed the contact, she couldn't allow herself to sink into complacency. "Are we good, Li?"
Liara cast her another quick look. This time she offered up a warm, brief smile. "Always."
"I really hate to interrupt this lovely moment, but am I the only one that knows this isn't the way to the docks?" a determined voice piped up.
Liara's smile disappeared. It was quickly replaced by a scowl – directed belatedly at Shepard for allowing Myke to tag along in the first place, and then at the young asari herself. "Do I need to remind you of the conditions of your continued presence, Mycea? There was only one."
"I know, I know! Remain silent," Myke replied, throwing up her hands in surrender. "I was just trying to help, since it looks as though you don't know where the hell you're going."
"I assure you I do."
Liara's tone made it quite clear that was the end of the conversation. Myke looked suitably chastened, but not enough to curb her nervous energy as she scurried along beside them. Bringing up the rear, Samara appeared as though she was completely detached from everything around her. Only a fool would have made such an assumption.
Liara led the small group to a nondescript warehouse nestled amongst dozens of identical units. However, the security system wasn't standard, and nor were the contents. Shepard blinked several times as a harsh, bright glow lit up the space. She looked around, finding crates stacked against three of the walls, and more nestled in the middle. All were immediately identifiable as the type used by arms manufacturers to transport their goods. While most still bore the recognisable stamps of their manufacturers – Armax Arsenal, Rosenkov Materials, Ariake Technologies - the matt black crates in the centre were marked only with a stylised sea serpent. It was these crates that Shepard approached, her lips parting in anticipation.
"Is this what I think it is?" she asked, laying a hand atop the nearest one. When she looked over her shoulder, Liara merely offered a nod. "I tried to source some of this stuff for the crew on the SR-1, then I heard they went bust-" Shepard narrowed her eyes as she recognised the unreadable expression on Liara's face for what it was – knowledge. "They didn't go bust at all. Did they?"
"You can speculate later," Liara chastised her gently as she went through the motions of keying the lock on one crate. "When we are not on a time limit. You will find everything you need here, all customised to your individual specifications."
Everything was vacuum packed, denying Shepard a visual of her new armour. Any thoughts of joking about aesthetics were pushed to the back of her mind. If anyone was going to ensure that she wore nothing but the best, it was her bondmate. After all, Liara was as invested in her personal safety as she herself was.
"Thanks, Li," Shepard said as she began divesting the crate of its contents, slinging the largest pack over her shoulder, while carrying two others. "Can I leave you to it? Ash is doing her best to hold herself together, but I'll feel better if I'm there with her."
Liara offered a business-like nod in reply. "We will follow momentarily. My gear is also good to go, it should not be difficult to find something to suit Samara."
"My current attire is serviceable," Samara pointed out.
"It may very well be, but it's also distinctive," Shepard replied. "There's a very real possibly that we'll encounter Alliance forces. To avoid anything going down we need to look as nondescript as possible." At Samara's acquiescent nod, Shepard turned her attention back to her gear. "Myke, can you give me a hand with these cases?"
"Gimme a sec. I think I've got this on back-to-front."
Myke had opened another of the cases and was struggling to fasten a chestplate in place. It wasn't back-to-front, but was several sizes too large for her small frame. Shepard uttered an exasperated snort. While Myke's antics were usually a source of levity she enjoyed, there was no place for them in the present circumstances. She retrieved the chestplate from Myke's grasp and threw it back into its crate. In its place, she pressed one of the cases forcibly into Myke's arms. The young asari stumbled slightly under its weight.
"We don't have time to fuck around, Kasos," Shepard said over her shoulder as she left the warehouse. Myke was left to catch up as best she could. "This isn't a game."
Myke wasn't deterred. "Hey! I know how serious this is, and I also know you need all the help you can get. I'm coming with you."
"No way in hell," Shepard growled. "It's much too dangerous."
"Yeah, and I'm prepared to face the risks-"
Shepard whirled on Myke. "This isn't about you and what you're prepared to do. Honestly, I don't want to be looking over my shoulder at every turn, wondering if you're safe. It'll get us both killed." Shepard forced herself to find a measure of calm. Regardless of her error in judgement, Myke didn't deserve anger. "Look…Myke, I admire your intentions. No one can question your courage, but I can't let you come with us and I can't afford to waste another minute talking about it. The time we waste here could potentially costs lives. I had hoped you would realise that."
"Don't patronise me!" Myke snapped in reply. Her lower lip was trembling, making her look every inch a child. "I know exactly what's happening and I'm not asking for special treatment." She looked away as tears of frustration welled in her eyes. "Carry your own bloody case then, Shepard!"
As she struggled to hold the case that was thrust back into her grasp, Myke left Shepard without a further word. Shepard felt a pang of distress, but she couldn't afford to dwell on the situation. Her mind was already shifting to other matters as she resumed walking.
There would be time to make things right with Myke when she returned.
It was a textbook study of how a situation could change in an instant. Ash had been lingering in the warm glow of Miranda's forgiveness when, in an instant, ice had been flushed through her entire body. Joy was cruelly replaced by dread. Hope by fear. Even now, with the Normandy a frenzied hive of activity around her, she remembered receiving Shepard's message with startling clarity.
Alliance colonies were in immediate danger. That was frightening enough. Everything had been thrown into chaos when Shepard named the colonies. Ash heard Mindoir and felt like throwing up. When Shepard named Chasca, her stomach had actually lurched. It was as though someone in the Galaxy was conspiring against her, throwing up a problem that seemed to have no solution. For all her power and proficiency, Normandy's Captain could never be in two places at once.
"Cortez!"
Ash's voice reverberated in the Normandy's docking bay as she signalled out the burly Lieutenant. She heard each strike of her boots on the deck. Forceful and impatient. The need for urgency was reflected in everything she did, especially in the tone of her voice. Cortez glanced up from his work immediately, not even pausing to wipe the beads of sweat rolling down his face.
"Ma'am?"
Cortez's expression was one of determination. It reminded Ash that this clusterfuck wasn't just her problem. The entire crew had her back. Several were in the same position as Ash, personally invested with friends and family living in the at-risk colonies. This was no time to play the role of benevolent commanding officer. She needed to assess the entire situation and make a strategic decision. Under no circumstances could she let personal feelings sway her decision.
Absolutely not.
Ash felt her fingernails dig into the palms of both hands. She returned her focus to the present, away from the well of panic that lingered just below her veneer control.
"Sitrep, Lieutenant."
To make matters difficult for Cortez, Ash continued walking through the expanse of the shuttle bay towards the lowered ramp. She deftly avoided the steady stream of incoming traffic – loaders, dock workers, and Normandy personnel – as she headed towards the hive of activity on the dock. Cortez had to break into a gentle jog to catch up.
"I've prioritised essential munitions, but with the bulk of resources directed towards engineering, we're going to be short."
"As expected," Ash replied coolly. "I don't care if the crew needs to go onto half rations, I do care if the Normandy can't get us to where we need to go. Thermal clips, medigel and other combat essentials only, Cortez. We're leaving at 0730."
Cortez checked his chrono. "Half an hour? Ma'am…"
"0730," Ash interrupted without sympathy. "Get it done, Lieutenant."
It wouldn't be enough time, but Ash felt the passage of each minute with a growing sense of dread. Her conversation with Alliance HQ had been tense and brief, but she had garnered enough from Admiral Mikhailovich to know that their response time would be less than optimal. Ash found it effortless to block the Admiral's fury from her mind. She couldn't care less that the Normandy had missed a couple of flypasts, not to mention that she had been out of contact for almost a month. The fact that she had cut him off mid-tirade indicated just how little she did care. Politics had never been something she understood, nor had sought to understand, but even her soldier's understanding could see that the Alliance's aggressive, hard-line stance was to blame for any conflict.
Although she desperately wanted to take a minute out of the chaos to stop, think and gather her thoughts, Ash didn't have time. She allowed herself a few deep breaths and the feeling of reassurance that came automatically when she saw Shepard approaching. Her former CO was effortlessly lugging three large cases and a rifle, all the while wearing the calm expression that Ash remembered so well.
Shepard greeted her with a business-like nod. "Where are we at?"
"HQ is a fucking mess." Ash scrubbed at her forehead. "Mikhailovich actually wasted time trying to bring me up on charge instead of concentrating on the mess at hand. They're responding, but we're the vanguard – especially in regard to the colonies in the Traverse and the edge of Alliance space. They're prioritising those colonies with the largest populations, which means Mindoir and Chasca will be in the firing line."
Shepard nodded again, as though the whole damn thing actually made some sort of sense. "Have you been able to get through to Miranda?"
"No, comms are down across the board. A message came through earlier indicating that there was nothing out of the ordinary." Ash instinctively savoured the memory. Miranda's voice. The forgiveness. "Shepard…" She paused, bit her lip. This was a call she had to make. A choice she had to make. "I have absolutely no authority to order you to do anything, but I'm asking as a friend…as someone I trust more than life itself. I need you to take the Pserimos to Mindoir. Please."
There was no hesitation. Shepard reached out and placed a hand firmly on Ash's shoulder. "There's no need to say please, Ash. If that's where you need me to be, I'm there." Shepard managed a small smile. "Although in all seriousness, I feel for any attacking force that has to go up against both Jack and Miranda."
Ash couldn't sum up any attempt at humour. She sighed wearily as she stared at her friend. "This is fucked up. It's been less than a year since the Reapers and it feels like we're going to war all over again. Last time around I was still able to do my job. This time…I can't think about anything other than losing my family, Shepard." She shook her head. "I can't lose Miranda. I won't."
Shepard's fingers squeezed a little more firmly. "Ash, that's not going to happen. You've never seen Jack and Miranda in action together. They're completely incompatible, but somehow it works. I can't tell you the number of times those two saved our arses while we were fighting the Collectors. Even when the shit hits the fan, caring about people doesn't mean you've lost your ability to do your job."
At that point Ash did manage a small smile. It was fleeting, but she needed to convey her gratitude. The moment was interrupted by a whirlwind in the form of Kurin. The asari Captain was wearing her leathers, with a Carnifex and an SMG already strapped to her thighs as though she was ready to step into the fray immediately. She swept between the two, with barely any regard for Shepard before she rounded angrily on Ash.
"I've got less than a dozen commandos, Williams. How the hell do you expect me to go up against a force of any size?"
"You'll have Shepard-"
"And Liara," Shepard interjected quickly.
"Forgive me if I'm not exactly oozing optimism here," Kurin continued, hardly impressed by the prospect of such a duo joining her crew. "We need more time! More troops."
Kurin was simply stating the obvious, but Ash felt her jaw tighten in anger. "Where the hell am I going to find more of either, Kurin?" Her tone was uncompromising, and she felt nothing. Not even when she saw the young asari's expression falter for a moment. "If you're going to spout some bullshit about how this isn't your fight, then bloody well get it out of the way now."
Shepard coughed a gentle warning. "Ash."
"Goddess, Williams. I didn't realise you thought so little of me." Kurin shook her head slowly, eyes suddenly shining with either fury or unshed tears. "This isn't an asari fight – in fact, we'd do well to stay clear – but I'm doing this for you. Not out of any misguided attempt to win you-" The asari cut herself off mid-sentence, with a furtive glance towards Shepard. She turned to leave, speaking over her shoulder, "I'm making this my fight, although you're a fucking idiot. And I'm going to get us more troops."
Both Ash and Shepard watched the asari captain break into a run, dodging loaders and dockworkers, with a few choice epithets for those who didn't move out of her way. Ash felt wretched, even more so when she found Shepard looking at her with a disappointed expression.
"We're up against it, and you take the time to piss off the one ally who's actually willing to help?"
"I'll apologise when this shitstorm has cleared," Ash replied tersely. "Are we good, Shepard?"
"Always, Ash." Shepard offered up a small nod. "I'll be in touch en route. Take care of yourself."
"You too."
Shepard watched for a few moments as Ash resumed her focus on the hive of activity around the Normandy. It was blatantly obvious just how tightly wound Normandy's Captain was. Ash wasn't herself. Shepard feared that her friend was at the point of breaking, but there wasn't a thing she could do about it. Not while they were all poised on the precipice with so much at stake. She needed to trust that Ash could handle anything that was thrown at her.
"T'fuck outta my way, you daft bitch!"
The irate driver of a loader didn't bother to slow his machine as he careened past, allowing Shepard barely enough time to leap out of the way with her gear in tow. She shrugged it off without even an angry glance. It was her fault for lingering in the middle of all the chaos. She needed to stow her gear aboard the Pserimos and find out where the hell Kurin had run off to.
"Shepard?"
An urgent shout claimed her attention. Shepard turned to find Traynor running towards her. The Ops Chief was so completely out of breath, that she struggled to speak in between gasps for air. "Myke…I can't find Myke."
Traynor doubled over as soon as she stopped, propping herself up with her hands on her knees. It reminded Shepard that she too had an apology to make when all of this was over. If all of this is ever over. She remembered the recent promise she'd made to Myke. Despite everything, she wouldn't allow herself to doubt her ability to make that world a reality.
In that moment, she had a good guess as to exactly where Myke would have gone. Unfortunately, it wouldn't be what Traynor wanted to hear.
"I'm sorry, Sam. Myke…she wanted to come with us. I had to say no," Shepard explained. "I'm pretty certain she'll be hiding in her old refuge, but it'd take more time than you have to get there."
Traynor struggled to bring her emotions under control. Her responding nod was short and sharp. "Shit." Her lower lip trembled for a moment. "Thank you, Shepard. It was right that you said she couldn't come. Shit, I just wanted to say…"
"Sam, pull yourself together." Shepard's voice was hard, but it wasn't cold. "Whatever you wanted to say to her, Myke knows already. She's head over heels for you. The two of you will find each other again. Okay?"
Sam managed a determined nod.
"Now get to your ship, Chief, before your CO has you up for dereliction of duty."
"Yes, ma'am – I mean, Shepard," Traynor responded smartly.
"And Sam?" When Shepard swallowed, she found her throat suddenly dry. "Promise you'll keep an eye on Ash for me. Keep her safe."
"You're asking me to keep Ashley Williams safe?" Sam asked in disbelief.
"She needs someone to keep her grounded, I can't think of anyone better suited to the job than you."
Kurin vaguely heard Aria's pet Batarian shout something in her direction as she bounded up the stairs two at a time. She didn't bother to give him the courtesy of even a dismissive stare or reply. Instead she kept moving upwards, trying to ignore the raging fear coursing through her body. She eventually gave up trying. Regardless of anything that might have existed been between her and the Queen of Omega, Kurin knew she was right to be afraid.
The only consolation about the whole sorry state was that it was enough to forget about Ashley's words – or at least take the sting out of them.
Aria wasn't alone. The Queen was surrounded by an array of bootlicking supplicants. Asari, Turians, Krogan, a couple of humans and one very eager looking vorcha. Aria lounged on her sofa. An exceptionally plain asari wearing only the barest suggestion of clothing was draped over her. Kurin suppressed an irrational surge of jealously. She had no desire to claim such a position for herself. Drawing herself to her full, albeit inadequate, height Kurin regarded the throng with unconcealed disdain.
"Leave us!"
Thankfully her bellow emerged as intended, and not as the terrified squawk she imagined in her head. Kurin wasn't surprised when no one, not even the half-naked asari on Aria's lap, made an effort to move. Instead they simply looked to Aria, no doubt eagerly waiting to see how she would deal with the intruder who clearly didn't know her place. Kurin tilted her chin forward and held her ground, issuing a determined challenge to Aria through her stare. It was a stand-off. The air was heavy with tension. Kurin hovered on the verge of panic. Flight was all she could think about, but it wasn't a luxury she could allow herself.
Finally, a break. Aria jerked her chin upwards. The movement was barely perceptible, but it had an immediate effect. In the space of mere seconds, the balcony emptied of warm bodies save for Kurin and Aria. The asari that had moments earlier been enjoying Aria's favour offered up a murderous expression, but Kurin had no time for such pettiness. Her focus remained on Aria.
Uncoiling like a predator, Aria rose to her feet. It was the only warning Kurin had before she was encased in raw biotic power. Kurin found herself thrown backwards. A grunt of surprise escaped her lips as her body slammed into something solid and unmoving. With her eyes watering from the sudden pain, Kurin was pinned helplessly as Aria approached.
While Omega's Queen was sheathed in blue, her expression remained chillingly calm. It was a calculated façade. Beneath the calm, Kurin knew that Aria was bridling her fury. At the point that Aria finally stopped moving, Kurin could see her reflection in the icy orbs of Aria's eyes. She could clearly see her own fear.
"If I wasn't so concerned about the mess, I'd gut you in an instant." Aria concealed nothing in her sharp-edged tone. "Who am I fucking kidding? I don't give a fuck about the mess." Her lip twisted into an amused sneer. "However I am feeling slightly benevolent. You've got about thirty seconds to explain what that little act was all about. Who the hell do you think you are? Embarrassing me in front of my guests?"
Kurin felt slightly giddy, as though she was no longer in complete control of her body but rather was looking down on someone else. That someone else was a rash fool with a death wish.
"That bunch of sycophants? When did the Queen of Omega start caring about what others think of her? Is that what you want? To have idiots crawling around you, hanging on your every word, but not offering an iota of personality in return?" Kurin demanded. "That's not what you want."
Aria's arm shot out. Vice-like fingers wrapped around Kurin's throat, squeezing mercilessly. Kurin gasped for breath but Aria responded by tightening her grip. "And you presume to know what I want? You think I want you, little soldier? Look at you squirming. I only have to keep squeezing and I could end you here and now. It's pathetic."
Black spots were punctuating her vision by the time Aria finally let go. Kurin was unable to contain the resulting gasps as she gratefully sucked in gulps of air. Her throat felt raw and bruised, just like her confidence. All she could do was hang limply in Aria's biotic field, trussed up like a prime piece of meat.
Aria was right, you are pathetic, Kurin thought. Even as the older asari cruelly taunted her, she felt the unmistakable pangs of sexual longing. Then she reminded herself of Ashley's words. Just as cruel. Possibly even more so because she loved Ashley, while she was merely infatuated with the Queen of Omega. I'm a bloody Kurin, not some sap who can be walked over at whim!
"Even if you don't want me," Kurin began, meeting Aria's gaze with steel of her own. "Which I don't believe, I know exactly what you want. You want peace…prosperity. A Galaxy where you can peddle Omega's eezo without the threat of organisations like Cerberus."
Aria scowled. "Big fucking deal. I like credits."
Kurin swallowed. Took a risk. "And you like Shepard. Regardless of this impenetrable persona you've created for yourself. Otherwise you would've sold both her and Liara T'Soni off to the highest bidder months ago. Why stop at harbouring her? Help her. You know exactly what's happening. The human colonies that are being threatened. You have ships and troops."
The resulting laugh was heartily laden with scorn. "I'm not a galactic charity, especially not when it comes to saving humans from their own folly. They made their beds, now they can fucking lie in them," Aria said. However, she turned her back at that point. Kurin couldn't see her face when she continued. "Shepard's an idealistic fool, if she wants to get herself killed then I'm not about to stop her."
"She's our best chance for peace."
"And what does Asari High Command think about your little crusade?" Aria asked, still facing in the opposite direction. Some of the scorn had disappeared from her tone.
"Fuck them. We can't bury our heads in the sand and think the consequences won't affect us. Just as you can't, Aria. If you do, then you're the only fool around here."
Aria spun. Her teeth were bared in a rictus of fury that she made no effort to hide. If Kurin had been able to move, she would have fled. Once again she felt ruthless fingers closing around her neck. This time however came the realisation that she'd pushed the Queen of Omega too far. Her eyes slid closed as she prepared for the grasp to tighten. In her slightly deranged state, Kurin almost thought of it as a mercy, putting an end to the miserable existence she now found herself living.
What did I expect? This is Aria T'Loak, not some mere – Kurin had barely noticed the grip around her throat relax before she found her lips crushed beneath Aria's. There was nothing remotely tender about the kiss. It was harsh, bruising. Kurin responded, if only out of some sort of primal instinct…and she was powerless to do much of anything else. Aria's touch shifted, instead moving to cup Kurin's face possessively.
The field that had kept Kurin pinned suddenly vanished. With the restraint gone, Kurin's whole body slumped forward into Aria. Somewhere her mind registered surprise as she found the embrace almost soft. That thought barely had time to take hold before Aria placed one hand on her chest and drove her back against the surface behind her. Kurin was now pinned by the equally unyielding force of Aria T'Loak. However, her hands were free to do with as she dared. One she placed unobtrusively on Aria's hip, however the other rose to caress the sensitive spot that all asari possessed at the nape of their necks. Her fingers trailed firmly over the soft folds of skin. When she felt Aria respond with a sight tremor, Kurin dared to feel a little bold. Regardless of whatever words were said, she knew that she possessed some small hold over the Queen of Omega.
When Aria pulled back, Kurin met her gaze with calm determination. She found no trace of empathy, only a burning hunger. Kurin realised that her hold was minute indeed.
"Does this mean you'll help us?"
Aria smirked and reached up to pat Kurin on the cheek. "No, little soldier. This simply means that I'm fond of you enough to let you live."
Kurin shook her head. "But-"
"But nothing. This is not my fight," Aria growled firmly. She waved her hand dismissively. "Now run along. If, by some miracle, you survive then you and I might be able to explore this a little further."
"You..." Kurin shook her head. She felt her lip tremble. "You selfish Goddess-damned cunt! You're condemning people to die."
"Is that the best you can do?" Aria laughed. She shifted her weight onto one side and propped her hand on her hip as though everything was simply amusing. "You think I care about anyone dying?"
With a grunt of fury, Kurin turned to leave. She glanced over her shoulder. "Maybe it's time you started caring."
Mindoir, Attican Traverse
Despite the heavy layers she wore, Miranda felt chilled to the bone. She tugged her collar closed, fastening it tight to keep the cold from seeping downwards. It was all more than enough to remind her exactly why she'd spent most of her life in the climate controlled confines of starships and space stations. On Mindoir the weather didn't respond to the touch of a few buttons. It was raw and real. On one level she felt more alive, and slightly virtuous for getting back in touch with nature. On another, she was miserable.
Then the taste of salt reminded her of the near constant stream of fluid running from her nose. Miranda dabbed at it thoroughly with a handkerchief - an item that she had previously never had cause to use. Her genetics ought to have made it impossible for her to catch a cold. However here she was, constantly wiping snot from her red, raw nose. Bloody Mindoiran germs.
"Thanks for this." She nodded to Finch.
"Don't mention it, ma'am." Finch grinned awkwardly.
Finch was just a kid. Barely nineteen. He still had difficulty looking Miranda in the eye. "My Mum's kind of old-fashioned. She made me pack at least a dozen….and extra socks and underwear-" His cheeks flamed red and he looked away again.
Miranda smiled as she walked. As miserable as she was, she had to admit that her feelings toward her current situation were changing. While she couldn't go as far as to say that she enjoyed garrison life, she had found a sort of peace. There were moments of late were she allowed herself to imagine Ash joining her. Mindoir was still rustic in every sense of the word and the temperature plummeted during the winters, but she could almost see a life for herself. Albeit a far simpler one than she was used to, but that had a distinct appeal.
"Your Mum doesn't sound old-fashioned," Miranda commented. "It sounds like she cares about you. It can't be easy for her with you being posted all the way out here."
"No, ma'am," Finch replied quickly, clearly nervous that Miranda was still talking to him.
They continued walking in silence for a minute. Several of her squad members passed them, all eager to get back to the warmth as quickly as possible. Despite the cold, Miranda realised she was drawing out the patrol. An excuse to be outside rather than attend to the mounting admin work that Jack had so gleefully delegated to her. Miranda had long since ceased to be surprised about her own indifference to such tedium. There used to be a time where her lack of efficiency would have weighed heavily, now she had learned that such bureaucracy meant little.
"Do you have family, ma'am?" Finch suddenly blurted out. He then bit his lip, as though thinking better of his attempt at conversation. "Sorry, just me being nosy."
"It's fine," Miranda said honestly. "And no, I don't. My father was killed during the War and I didn't have…" Miranda paused. Everyone had a mother. "I never knew my mother."
"My Dad died in the War too," Finch replied, almost eagerly as he was clearly pleased to find he had something in common with the enigmatic Miranda Lawson. "He was stationed on Arcturus. It's why I joined up as soon as I could."
Miranda nodded congenially. She wasn't about to share the circumstances of Henry Lawson's demise, nor her regret that she had not been the one to kill him.
"Ma'am…do you mind if I ask you something?
She regarded him with a level stare. "No, but only if you drop the ma'am."
"Some of the guys, they say that you worked for…Cerberus before the War." He uttered the name in a whisper, as though it were somehow tainted. "Then I heard someone say that you knew the Shepard, that you were part of the Normandy crew."
A small sigh escaped Miranda's lips. "What if both were true? Would it make any difference?"
Finch frowned in confusion. "Both…and even just one. It means that you are someone. Yet you're here with us grunts, slumming it on garrison duty. You don't belong here."
"Thanks for that, Finch." A wry smile creased her face.
"Oh!" The young man appeared mortified. "I didn't mean…I just meant that you're better than this…than us. I mean…just look at you."
Miranda felt her nose streaming again and her smile became a self-deprecating laugh. Henry Lawson had created her to be better than people like Finch. For a long time she'd believed in her own perfection. It had ruled every aspect of her life, creating a person who was both unapproachable, and unpleasant to be around. Shepard had acted as a catalyst for change in her life. Slowly chipping away at her exterior, albeit with all the aggravating tactics of which Shepard was so fond.
Then Ash had invaded her life with all the finesse of a dreadnought, knocking down the walls altogether.
"I'm just one person, no better than the next marine."
Even as she said it, Miranda almost managed to convince herself that she believed what she was saying. Then a small voice at the back of her mind reminded her how and why she had been created. She literally was better than the next marine. Although perhaps not in every sense of the word.
"Can I ask you what the Shepard was like?" Finch ventured tentatively.
Miranda had answered the question before, but knowing that Shepard was alive changed everything. The words couldn't roll off her tongue as easily as they had. As she was struggling to think of something mundane, she saw Jack approaching. Even from a distance, she could see that Captain Zero was oddly agitated. She turned to Finch. "She was a pain in the arse."
"Cheerleader!" Jack's voice grated, fraying Miranda's good mood. "Bout time you showed your bubbly butt back at base!"
Miranda rolled her eyes. Some things would never, ever change.
"Does the Captain actually like you?" Finch asked in a whisper. "It's hard to tell."
"'Like' is far too mundane a word to be applied to my relationship with Jack." Miranda murmured. She was feeling oddly talkative, reasoning that it had something to do with the fact that she was enjoying an actual conversation as opposed to the verbal sparring matches she shared with Jack. "I'd be more inclined to say it's a mutual loathing tempered with a measure of respect."
"Captain." Finch managed a reasonably competent salute as Jack marched up to them.
"Finch, nice to see ya. Now piss off and give me a moment with the Lieutenant."
Finch nodded all too quickly. He broke into a run to catch up with a couple of his fellow marines who were walking ahead. He offered one last, sympathetic, glance over his shoulder. Miranda also kept walking, wondering what she'd done now to deserve the pleasure of Jack's company.
"Taking time to smell the roses, Lawson?" Jack asked as she fell into step beside Miranda.
"Even if there were any roses to smell, Jack, my nose feels like it's about to fall off," Miranda replied, a trace of petulance creeping into her tone. She checked her chrono. "We're an hour late due a detour to the Riddell homestead. Their generator failed a couple of days ago. I thought I would check in on them and ensure they were all okay."
"Hey, that's fucking lovely. I'm not saying anything about you being late. Although you could've taken one of the Grizzlys."
"One's out of action, the other constantly smells like fuel," Miranda replied. She was anxious to get inside and have a warm meal. "Was there a point to your little greeting, or is this just your daily attempt to piss me off?"
Jack held up her hands in surrender. "Were you always this quick to accuse?"
"No quicker than you," Miranda retorted.
The smaller woman stopped walking. With both hands propped on her hips and a serious expression on her face, Jack actually looked as though she was completely serious. Miranda ignored both her nose and her rumbling stomach to focus on her CO. Her nose was running yet again.
"Some serious shit's going down, Lawson." Jack kept her voice low as the rest of Miranda's squad trudged past on their way to the mess. "The comms blackout? I'm pretty good at sniffing out trouble, and this stinks worse than a Krogan taking his armour off."
"Jack, we already know the Alliance is crooked-"
"No." Jack shook her head and shifted furtively from one foot to the other. "Nothing to do with the Alliance…except maybe as a result of the shit they've pulled lately. Without wanting to stir up a varren's nest, I'd say Mindoir's gonna be hit."
Miranda's first instinct was to snort disparagingly at Jack's deduction. After all, she was talking to the psychotic biotic. The woman whose idea of body armour used to be a couple of straps and an oversized pair of trousers. Then she realised that her response was driven by spiteful disbelief, that Jack had been the one to connect the dots and not her.
Once she accepted the validity of the assumption, she felt a chill pass through her entire body and settle in the pit of her stomach. More for something to do with her hands, she took out her handkerchief and blew her nose.
"And we've got next to no early warning systems, no orbital defence." Miranda tucked the handkerchief away as she frowned, deep in thought. She realised Jack was staring at her in shock. "What?"
"You're going with it, what I said? Just like that?"
"Why wouldn't I?"
"I thought you'd wanna look into it further. Y'know...waste half a day finding out some actual evidence?"
Miranda shook her head resolutely. "I trust your instincts, Jack."
"Well fuck me."
"Jack…I need you to focus," Miranda said impatiently. "If we make a call and it turns out to be wrong, we're going to cause a hell of a lot of people to be scared for no reason."
"I'm sure they'd rather be scared than dead." Jack stated the obvious in a matter-of-fact tone.
An idea hit. "A drill," Miranda murmured. She turned to Jack with a fierce expression on her face. "It's Mindoir for Christ's sake. The colony should have regular drills. We're instigating it...starting now. Full scale evacuation."
"Okay, since you've finally kicked into Cheerleader mode, where the fuck are we going to evacuate them to?"
Miranda only needed to ponder that question for a moment before a memory flitted into her mind. The encounter with the nathak that had left her humiliated and two of her squad dead during her first week on Mindoir. She cast her gaze northward.
"That mountain range to the north is criss-crossed with caves. There will be colonists who know them, well enough at least to find shelter." It wasn't the greatest idea she'd ever had, but it was better than standing around doing nothing.
"What kind of a shit plan is that? You'd have them walk into their motherfucking tomb!" Jack protested.
"We're not going to let that happen." The ice in Miranda's stomach had long since become a burning rage. She didn't want to die on Mindoir, but her conscience couldn't leave thousands of innocent people in harm's way. "The garrison is going to act as a diversion. Whoever or whatever is coming, we're going to cause so much hurt that they're going to wish they never set foot on Mindoir." She turned to look at Jack and her lips curled into a sardonic smile. "You up for that?"
Jack bared her teeth. It might have been a grin. "I was born for that."
Chasca, Matano
Sarah Williams could already visualise her view before she lifted the blackout curtain – that pale light that inhabited a world just after the sun had departed, or before it rose. She stared out across New Lima's dusty streets, remembering her first weeks in post when she momentarily forgot where she was and expected the sun to rise. Sarah wasn't sure which she missed most, the soothing blanket of darkness at night, or the vibrancy of sunlight.
A couple of minutes yet, she thought as she checked the time. While she was waiting, Sarah busied herself attending to morning details around her studio flat – a pot of coffee, ensuring she was at least presentable. She knew Abby and Lynn would fuss if she looked remotely tired or unhappy.
The call came through right on time – almost to the second. Abby was always punctual. Whatever worries Sarah had were pushed to the back of her mind as both Abby and Lynn's faces appeared. Her sisters were pressed close to the screen, filling it with their smiles.
"Hey guys." Sarah offered up a small, unnecessary wave. "How's things?"
"We're good," Abby replied quickly. She yelped as Lynn elbowed her off-screen. "What? We are!"
"Abigail has been taking her role as elder middle sister a little too seriously," Lynn pointed out. "What she really meant to say is that she's still worried about Ash."
"Well, her message was light on details," Sarah replied.
Several weeks earlier Ash had sent a terse email to all three of them. It simply stated that she was safe and she would be in touch soon. There had been no further news since. Granted, it wasn't unusual for their eldest sister to drop out of contact in her line of work, but Ash had always tried to give them as many details as she could.
Sarah caught her lower lip with her teeth, chewing anxiously for a moment. No matter what system Ash was in, she was the glue that held their family together.
"I caught a report on ANN late last night. The Normandy is apparently fighting pirates on the edge of Alliance space. I smelt bullshit straight away," Lynn added. "I'd bet credits on her being shacked up with Miranda somewhere."
"This isn't remotely funny," Abby said with a pointed glance at Lynn. "Instead of speculating, I actually emailed Miranda yesterday. If anyone has further news, it'll be her."
"Good plan." Although Sarah had not had the privilege of meeting the woman who had captured her sister's heart in person, Sarah liked Miranda Lawson immensely. In the messages they'd exchanged, Miranda came across as warm and friendly, albeit scarily intelligent. Most importantly, she could see that Miranda genuinely loved Ash. "I reckon they're okay though. I heard from Leon as well-"
Lynn predictably interrupted with a quiet whoop.
"-it was just as brief, but mentioning that their location is classified. Get that look off your face, Lynn!"
"What looks? I'm genuinely happy for you, baby sis. Not so much for Abby and I, we're going to end up as two old spinster sisters."
"Speak for yourself," Abby interjected. "I'm sure as hell not spending the rest of my life living with you. I'd go stark raving-"
Sarah frowned as the video feed suddenly descended into static, interrupting Abby mid-sentence. She waited for the contact to reinitialise, but instead the channel cut out altogether. Sarah was left staring hopelessly at the 'lost signal' message fixed on the screen. She couldn't help the small sigh that escaped. It was a conversation she'd been looking forward to all week, but now there was nothing to do but move on with her day.
The small clinic where Sarah worked remained quiet for much of the day. New Lima, Chasca's nominal capital, was still a relatively small settlement. The population of colonists, scientists, and Alliance personnel numbered less than 500. Most were clustered together, only the hardier souls ventured out to farm the narrow belt of habitable terrain. The land was barely arable, and the farms were all still in the experimental stage, producing small yields.
Sarah had to admit that the planet itself was fascinating. Their colony existed in the space between two extremes – scorching heat, and hostile cold. The practicality of their presence however continued to nag at the back of her mind. With the level of casualties inflicted during the Reaper War, there was no shortage of land to go around. Rich, productive agricultural land was lying dormant on Eden Prime, Mindoir and Horizon, yet colonists chose to come to Chasca. Sarah suspected it was because the landscape was untouched, undamaged by war. It had experienced none of the horrors of other human colonies. Life was peaceful…and dead boring.
"Williams?"
Sarah was internally debating the impact that a transfer request would have on her career when her thoughts were interrupted by Major Jansen, the clinic's doctor. She fixed an expression of polite attentiveness on her face and looked up from her work.
"We're dead in here. Why don't you finish up your shift early? Grab a drink," Jansen suggested.
"If it's all the same with you, I'd rather finish processing these samples."
The sad truth was that Sarah preferred her work and her own company to the often uninspiring company of Chasca's colonists. She'd very quickly discovered that she was amongst insular, often xenophobic people. There were very few other veterans.
Sarah kept to herself, maintaining sanity through frequent calls to Abby and Lynn, and emails to Ash and Miranda. Surprisingly, the latter replied frequently and eloquently. Her eldest sister's messages were just as rare and brief as always.
Jansen fixed her a warm smile. The guy was nice enough. "Suit yourself. Just remember to have a little fun every now and then."
Fun, Sarah thought as the doctor left the room. Unlikely. Her current idea of fun was counting the days until her next leave was due, leave she planned to spend with Leon Grenier. Normandy's XO was still practically a stranger, albeit an incredibly handsome one. Sarah desperately wanted to remedy that through a few lengthy conversations…and more kissing. Definitely more kissing.
And potentially more. A warm blush spread across both cheeks. It seemed an age since Tom, but not so long since she had thought that she would never recover from his death. Alongside her sisters, Leon offered potential for a future beyond the War.
A piercing wail suddenly rent the air, seemingly coming from everywhere at once. Startled, Sarah dropped the delicate instrument in her hand. It clattered onto the table, and then to the floor where it smashed into small pieces.
"Fuck," she hissed irritably, annoyed at herself for ruining the sample.
It was merely a test of New Lima's warning system, something that took place every Thursday afternoon. Aside from an annoying irritation, it was easily ignored as everyone went about their daily business. However as Sarah was doing her best to mop up her mess, she frowned in confusion. Wasn't it only Wednesday? The days on Chasca did have a tendency to meld into one another, but surely things had not become so bad that she didn't know what day it was. She shrugged off her concern and went to retrieve the steriliser.
The wail continued, far past the point where it ordinarily would have ceased. It was almost eerie, seeming to increase in intensity the longer it went on. Something compelled Sarah to stop moving, her fingers poised in the act of reaching for the appliance. In her mind she started going over safety procedures in her head.
As suddenly as it started, the wail stopped. In the silence that followed, Sarah could still hear it ringing in her ears. It created a dissonant chorus when combined with her thudding heartbeat and urgent, almost panicked breaths. Sarah paused and drew in a deep breath, smiling a little to herself at her own foolishness. She hadn't realised the extent to which she had adjusted to life during peacetime.
Perhaps she would take Dr Jansen up on his offer and leave early. After all, the comms problem ought to have been fixed. If she hurried home, she could possibly catch Lynn and Abby before they left for work. With the prospect of resuming her chat with her sisters on her mind, Sarah hastened to finish cleaning her mess – even going as far as to hum a tuneless little whistle to take her mind off her frayed nerves.
There was an odd, jarring sound in the distance. It wasn't overly unusual, sounding like heavy construction work. A flash of orange light drew Sarah's attention to the window. The sounds grew louder, increasing in frequency. They were interspersed with quieter, rapid retorts. Sarah's eyes widened as she recognised the song being played.
It was gunfire.
Sarah scrambled to her feet. She heard shouts of alarm go up throughout the rest of the building. Her name was being called. Then everything erupted in a shower of glass shards and heat. An abrupt cry was all that escaped her lips before some invisible force swept her off her feet and hurled her backwards. She felt bursts of pain as her body slammed into a glass-fronted cabinet. Like a limp doll, Sarah then flopped to the floor with the dark tendrils of unconsciousness clawing away.
The last thing she heard before she sank into the welcome embrace of nothingness was more gunfire and urgent, angry footsteps closing in on her.
