Departures

Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with the Mass Effect series. All credit for this story goes to Bioware.

Song Credit: The majority of this chapter was written while listening to Need to Feel loved by Reflekt. God Bless Reflekt.

-29 March 2183-

Arcturus Stream/Arcturus System/Arcturus Station.

David Anderson walked into the Arcturus Brass Lounge, the Captain sparing only a glance to the lavish decorum and polished white surfaces. It all seemed so wasteful, especially considering he was one of only three people currently using the large space. He spied his reluctant goal seated at the large, round bar in the center of the room. Udina was slumped over on a barstool, and worriedly smoked a thin, black cigar while glancing intermittently between his active omni-tool and half-empty drink. The the room's third occupant was an attractive young bartender dressed in blue Alliance fatigues. She was busy with liquor restock and her auburn bangs obscured her eyes somewhat, but she gave Captain Anderson her full attention as he took a seat next to the Ambassador.

"Get you anything, Captain?" she asked. The name tag pinned to the front of her fatigues read Kim Chalmers. Her eyes were a brilliant green color, and Kim's smile was two parts courtesy and one part soft desire.

Anderson suppressed a chuckle and gave her a polite smile. Miss Chalmers, he thought, that is not the sort of look you give an old war-horse like me. His words were a bit more reserved. "No, thank you. On duty."

There was a disappointed look in her eyes, but Chalmers nodded. "Just let me know if you need anything, sir." She flashed the Captain another smile before turning back to the wall of bottles behind her. Anderson couldn't hold back the chuckle that time, and he earned the attention of the Ambassador at his right.

Udina shot Anderson the briefest of glances before focusing once more on his drink. An expensive whiskey, if the color and smell were anything to go by. Disgraceful. Not even 1600 hours and Udina was already halfway down the pipe.

"Captain," the Ambassador muttered.

"Ambassador," Anderson returned, without the bitterness. "Nihlus' recommendation just came through."

Udina's eyes focused on a bottle across the bar. "Shepard?"

"Shepard."

The Ambassador sighed. "Damn. I kept telling Parliament it was too soon, even with the time passed since that fiasco with Saren, but they wouldn't take no for an answer. Another human Spectre candidate, during a time when our two best soldiers are both media target-practice. Shepard's horrible with the sharks, we both know that. Hell, you saw the tapes from the Akuze debrief. Man doesn't have a shred of tact to him. All straightforward, all business, not to mention the fact that he's a damned transhuman. I'm sure Nihlus has his reasons, but the media's going to have a field day with this."

"Shepard will get the job done," Anderson stated, with just the slightest hint of indignity. "Always has. Media and politics be damned, he's the best of the best. The Spectres are getting one hell of a soldier."

Udina's laugh was short and bitter. "And we're losing one. I know that's not really how it works, but provided the Lieutenant Commander passes his induction tests, then he'll be answering to the Council from now on."

"Whatever it takes," Anderson said quietly. "Humanity needs a bigger role in things. We need that Council seat. We're not the volus, the hanar, the elcor. Humanity has never been satisfied with the status quo. As long as we stay ambassadorial, we'll be-"

"Second-rate," Udina finished. He downed another helping of his drink and exhaled heavily. "The turians think they can give us orders, the salarians think they can mitigate our technological prowess, and the asari want to dip their blue fingers into every decision we make. No more. I've had enough. Humanity is poised to have more colonies than the salarians soon, and I won't see our expansion stymied by a lack of political prowess. Not while I'm Ambassador, damn it."

A chuckle from Anderson was enough to draw Udina out of his bitterness. "And here I was thinking that politicians weren't supposed to be ambitious."

"Laugh now, Captain. Nihlus and Shepard are going to be on your ship soon, then they're your problem."

"I'm looking forward to it."

"Hmm. Well then, I suppose that's that." Udina finished the last of his drink and grimaced. "Inform Hackett and Mikhailovich, I'll make the call for the transfer." He paused. "Just where is Shepard stationed, anyway?"

Anderson nodded at Chalmers when she reached over to take Udina's empty glass. "He's been on shore-leave for the last two weeks along with his N7 trainee, 2nd Lieutenant Helen M. Lowe."

"I don't suppose they're languishing on some tropical planet or enjoying a luxurious resort?"

Anderson's smile was just a fraction too wide for Udina's comfort. "Not quite, Ambassador."

"After all, Pinnacle Station isn't much of a vacation destination."

-29 March 2183-

The Shrike Abyssal/Xe Cha System/Tosal Nym Orbit/Quarian Liveship Rayya.

Tali'Zorah nar Rayya rubbed a hand against the forehead of her visor plate. "Quala, this isn't a vacation. Stop packing all my formal shawls."

"Cranky much? Sounds like somebody's having a bad reaction to her immuno-boosters! Don't worry, nurse Quala's gonna make it all better! You're gonna look all pretty-""

"Quala..." Tali growled.

Quala'Oro vas Lentana made a depreciating sound that came out a little too strongly through her helmet filters. "Oh fine. Ancestors forbid you actually decide to look nice during your Pilgrimage." The quarian scout began pulling tightly wrapped bundles of embroidered cloth out of a small bag she'd been stuffing. The bundles varied in size, but each one reflected Tali's color preferences; gold, black and most importantly, purple.

Tali's room was dark, just like it always was. Tali the good fortune to have a room to herself, the lucky nesh'tet. Admiral's daughter didn't have to share space like everyone else. No, not Rael'Zorah's daughter. Ancestors forbid that the Admiral's daughter got put on a bunk-rotation shift.

The room's dull metal walls were contrasted with decorative hangings of purple and gold cloth and the floor was strangely devoid of the machine bits that usually littered the space. There was a bed in the corner (a real bed, not a cot), a small desk next to the bed with a swiveling chair. The opposite corner from the bed contained a sterilized shower station. An actual shower. Needless to say, Quala used Tali's shower religiously (with permission, of course), since the early years of their friendship. Sure it was a small space, but the room was Tali's and only Tali's.

Quala'Oro vas Lentana had always been a little jealous of the little luxuries Tali received throughout her life. She'd never say it out loud, though. They were best friends. Friends were supposed to love each other, no matter what.

Tali groaned aloud and sorted through the pile of weapons parts on her desk. "It's Pilgrimage, Quala. Keelah, you act like I'm going to be spending the whole time trolling for guys."

Quala leveled a sidelong glance at her friend. "Pilgrimage and guys aren't mutually exclusive, Tali'Zorah. If I know you, you'll find something Fleet-worthy in no time flat. Why not spend a bit of that extra time hooking up with some hunky turian? Ancestors know you've drooled over Fleet and Flotilla enough times to fill the Rayya's reserve liquid tanks." Tali saw the grin in her friend's eyes. "And if not, I hear those humans can get pretty attractive too. Not dextro, but they've got a more quarian look to them than most species. Maybe something a little closer to home will-"

"Quala, I swear to the ancestors that I'll space you without an oxygen filter."

"You're no fun," Quala stated, a bright grin in her eyes. The scout laughed softly as she dumped a handful of supplies on Tali's bed. "Time sure flies, doesn't it?"

Tali looked up at her friend. Quala's had her vas suit for months and Tali was still a little jealous of how good it looked on the scout. The environmental suit itself reflected Quala's favorite color, dark green. Though the majority of her suit's weave was mostly a soft gray, Quala's choice in exterior cloth made the suit beautiful. The green of her hood was laced with geometric patterns in white thread and, unlike the majority of quarian hoods, was tipped with a small point at the peak of the hood. The additional cloth added a triangular shadow to the forehead of her dusky green visor. Quala's patterned green cloth was also displayed across a large portion of her suit; a pair of long strips crossed her torso and met at the small of Quala's back. The torso of Quala's suit was also padded with some extra hardsuit layering in order to better protect against small-arms fire. Ever since joining the crew of the Lentana, a scout ship and trading vessel, Quala found herself needing the extra protection against the... distrust that other races could harbor toward the quarians. Of course, the extra padding had the effect of making Quala's breasts look bigger than they actually were, something that the scout enjoyed flaunting around Reegar and Volto almost non-stop. Tali's had to put up with Quala's cocky attitude ever since she returned from Pilgrimage, and by that measure, so had everyone else.

Things considered, Tali was looking forward to getting her own vas suit, if only to show up Quala's sense of fashion. Something black with gold trimming. And purple. Purple was a better color than green, after all.

"Time sure flies? What's that supposed to mean?" Tali asked as she stuffed her pack with some of the supplies Quala has heaped on her. She was nervous enough without her best friend acting like a worried mother.

Quala met Tali's gaze from across the room, a handful of toxin filters in her grasp. "I mean, first it was Kal, then me, then Forzan, then Nolta and now..." Not even the tinted veil of Quala's visor could hide the grin in her eyes. "Now little Tali'Zorah is all grown up and heading out on her Pilgrimage!" She walked over to the bed and dumped the filters onto the considerable pile of supplies already there.

Tali shot her friend a glare, though the gesture was half-hearted and didn't quite make it past the dark blue of her visor. "I'm not a kid anymore, Quala. I'm-"

"Twenty-two years old," Quala laughed. "And ready to take on the galaxy, by the sound of it. Care to share that stubbornness with the rest of the Fleet? It'd be the perfect weapon to take back the Homeworld."

Tali threw her pillow at Quala and it impacted softly against the side of her friend's head. Quala shrugged the pillow off and shook her head, sighing sadly. "So much for little Tali all grown up. I thought you'd be more mature than this before going out on Pilgrimage."

Tali was about to retort when Quala hopped out of the bed proceeded to attack with the pillow. Quala clobbered Tali with the impromptu close-quarters weapon. Tali let out a mock-shriek and held her arms above her head to block the attack. After a few more relentless pummels, Tali and Quala both fell back onto the bed and giggled like... well, like two friends who sometimes forgot that they were supposed to be responsible adults.

Quala pulled herself off of the bed and laughs her way back to the supply box. "It's crazy though, isn't it? You're the last Pilgrimage of our little group. After you get back... well, we won't be so close knit after that. All of us crewed to different ships, working for the betterment of the Fleet." There was a note of sorrow in Quala's words that stopped Tali mid-packing.

"It'll be fine," Tali said gently. Though Quala has always been more outgoing and sociable, the scout had always been a little emotional. It was probably a side-effect of the mining accident that took both of Quala's parents many years ago.

Quala's eyes glowed with a sad smile. "I know, I'm sorry. I just... it's all changing, you know? We used to be inseparable here on the Rayya. Pretty soon we're all going to be so distant. It's getting harder and harder to meet up with all the duties I have on the Lentana. Kal's almost always on duty on the Neema, so we hardly get to see each other anymore. Plus Forzan's got her expeditions for the Idenna, and that hot cousin of yours is always busy on the Moreh with those theories of his."

Tali groaned as she tossed a few toxin filters into her bag, along with a few tubes of nutrient paste. "Please don't call Nolta 'hot'."

Quala laughed aloud and shook her head. "Fine. He's not 'hot', he's 'dreamy'. That better?"

Tali muttered a curse and Quala laughed again. "All right," the scout said as she closed up the box of supplies. "I'll keep it to myself. Of course, with you gone on Pilgrimage, don't be surprised if you come back and find that I've got Reegar and Nolta wrapped around my fingers."

Tali stood and crossed her arms. "Reegar's yours if you want him-"

"I do want him."

Tali sighed heavily but with good humor. "But Forzan might take offense if you decide to go after Nolta. They've been talking nearly every day since getting back from their Pilgrimages. Besides, Nolta doesn't like girls that are taller than him." Tali closed up her bag, satisfied with its contents. "All packed," she stated.

Quala made an indignant sound. Out of the five of them, Quala and Reegar had the distinction of being the tallest members of their little group, and Quala beat Reegar out by just under an inch.

"I'd make it work," Quala huffed.

"Sure you would. Then Forzan would skin you right out of your suit. Reegar's fair game, Quala. Plus, I heard from Forzan that he thinks you're cute."

Quala stopped dead. "R-really?"

Tali hid a smile to conceal her little lie. While Tali had her suspicions that Kal'Reegar was attracted to their group's leggy scout, she also knew that Reegar would sooner space himself than actually vocalize said sentiment. She let Quala stew for a moment while she finished packing.

"You didn't hear it from me, of course. Forzan hates it when I spill stuff like that. She says she heard it from Nolta and Nolta heard it from Reegar himself. You know how talk flies about."

Quala made a noise somewhere between disbelief and delight and sat in Tali's swivel chair. Her mind raced with realization. "Nay'Keelah," she breathed, "Do you really think I have a shot with him?" she breathed.

Tali suppressed the urge to snicker as she gathered up her pack. "You don't know until you try, Quala."

"After all, what do you have to lose?"

-29 March 2183-

Argos Rho/Phoenix System/Pinnacle Station.

2nd Lieutenant Helen M. Lowe hated losing. She also hated running away, though her Commander would've called it a tactical retreat. Everything was going wrong on this one. A simple reconnaissance mission turned to shit because the bad guys could apparently pick out a cloaked Infiltrator from a hundred yards. Not even a batarian commando had vision that good.

This is ridiculous, she thought. Training sim my ass, never been this overwhelmed in my life. Not even on Anhur.

"Could use a hand, sir!" she all but shouted into her helmet comm.

"En route, Lieutenant."

Her boots clanked across an open shipping dock, or what looked like a shipping dock. The hard-hologram training course had taken an industrial tone this time, complete with large walls, a factory-style backdrop and grated metal catwalks. Hell, they even had background noise to make it sound authentic, not that the Lieutenant had time to appreciate any of it. Lowe was somewhere near the center of the course, up to her ass in hostiles and hating herself for being spotted.

Lowe sprinted toward a nearby stack of crates, the only decent cover around. Well, it wasn't really a stack of crates, granted, but it had physical presence due to kinetic barriers and it looked like a stack of crates, so it was a stack of crates. In her mind, at any rate. Regardless, open ground was near the top of her least-favorite things list, right up there with cold showers and potato salad. Ugh. Even thinking about potato salad-

A pair of virtuals suddenly appeared on Lowe's left flank, weapons raised. Without hesitation she rolled, dodged the spray of gunfire and opened up with her assault rifle. The trusty Lancer-grade M-8 Avenger, curved and iconic, chattered loudly as it ripped through the programs, the pair frozen with static for a moment before vanishing.

Gotta love disruptor ammo, Lowe thought as she switched from her Avenger to a heavily modded M-97 Viper sniper rifle. The Lieutenant resumed her sprint toward cover, knowing that the other hostiles would be right behind her. As if to prove her point, virtual gunfire whipped over Lowe's head as she darted around the stacked crates.

Lowe was a professional. She was an excellent sniper and currently sat at N4 special designation. She also had a bit of a mouth.

"You never take me anywhere nice, Commander."

"I thought you'd be having fun," the Commander said into her helmet comm. There was no joking or sarcasm in his tone, just flat statement.

Helen suppressed a groan. Of course you'd think that, you slave-driver. Aloud she said, "Well, depends on what you consider-"

"Four moving up on your right flank, Lieutenant."

Lowe swore under-breath and shifted around her cover just as a hail of gunfire tore through the space she'd once occupied. She waited for a moment, engaged her tactical cloak and leaned out, taking her time with the aiming process.

Targets in sight. Crosshairs aligned. Safeties off.

"Bang."

Her shot cracked out and a virtual turian went down. She sighted again and dropped a salarian sniper toward the back of the group, a grin on her face when the killshot hit home. Her tactical cloak fizzled out and Lowe felt better about the whole mess. Maybe it was a little fun.

Gunfire from the last two programs forced Lowe back into cover and her shields strained against the shots she took. Lowe activated her omni-tool and gave her shields a quick boost. She shifted her cover to the left, leaned out to take another shot-

A roar of gunfire erupted from somewhere above Lowe's right flank. Her ears rang. A virtual asari was annihilated in a flash of bullets and digital blood. The Black Death sure earns his namesake, she judged.

If there was anything Helen Lowe could appreciate, it was a high-powered sniper rifle. Shepard's Indra, on the other hand, took the traditional idea of a long-range rifle and turned it on its head. The Commander's custom design, the Indra was a fully-automatic powerhouse; able to rip through shields, armor and flesh with unbelievable speed and precision. Lowe had fired the weapon herself once and it was love at first shot, the rifle simple in its construction and offering almost no recoil even with its unparalleled fire-rate. The Indra easily outclassed her Viper, and there were rumors that a semi-automatic version of Shepard's gun would be the weapon to replace the old M-92 Mantis as the Navy's standard-issue sniper rifle. Her Commander did own part of an Alliance-based, high-end weapon and armor manufacturer, after all.

Wouldn't mind getting my hands on one of those prototypes, Lowe thought as she watched gunfire tear into her targets. Each shot was punctuated by the sound of hissing discharge as advanced disruptor rounds overloaded shields and allowed their payload to impact unimpeded. Nothing could stay standing after a barrage from Shepard's custom rifle. Even the krogan program withered quickly before fizzing into immateriality.

Why am I letting him do all the work? Lowe thought, I'm supposed to be the designated sniper! Despite that fact, Lowe would never argue that she was the better shot of the two. She was good, but Shepard outclassed her in nearly every respect when it came to pure skill. Watching Shepard work was a bit like watching a transport crash; horrifying to watch, but you kept looking all the same.

It wasn't Lowe's first time seeing Shepard's incredible marksmanship, but even in a training session the sight was nearly enough to take her breath away, not to mention her hearing. Then, before she even realized it, the targets were neutralized, dead, whatever. Lowe snapped back into cover, knowing she was going to get scolded for-

"Need to stay focused, Lieutenant," he said into her comm. Lowe suppressed a groan.

"Sorry sir," she muttered as she popped a heat-sink from her Viper. She scanned the area around her with a practiced, marksman's sight.

"Don't apologize," the Commander admonished, his voice stern, "Get better. N7's are the best of the best. You want to be the best of the best, Lieutenant?"

"Sir! Damn straight, sir!"

Lowe could almost hear a smile in the Commander's voice. Almost. "Good, because standing knowledge holds that an N7 can hold off an army. And by the look of things, you've got one heading up the 'ramp' to your left." Shots began to ring out, the Commander providing his subordinate with cover-fire.

The Lieutenant didn't look, not right away. That would've been suicide. Shield check first, tactical cloak, then a very brief glance out from behind cover.

At least thirty, maybe more. All of them higher-end simulations. Turians, krogan, asari biotics. Lowe was suddenly very glad for the Commander's presence. She raised her sniper rifle and sighted a krogan, but Shepard's voice stilled her trigger finger.

"Wait for my cryo blast to hit the center of the group," Shepard instructed. "You follow it up with an overload charge, wide spread. Should be enough to shatter the frozen and make a mess out of the formation. We'll pick off the rest from there. Get ready."

"Sir," she said in affirmation as she slid briefly back into cover. He'd better be quick about it. Not much time left on this cloak.

Lowe heard the tech blast soar overhead and felt a chill tingle her skin, even through the insulated layers of her gunmetal-grey medium hardsuit. The little ball of ice made its way into the heart of the group, struck one of the simulations and snap-froze everything within three meters of the target. Lowe shifted out of cover just long enough to lock on-target and send out her own tech blast, an unassuming burst of electrical discharge. Her tactical cloak fizzled out around her, its field unable to stay sustained due to the high-energy combat app; though her omni-tool was able to channel the dissipating energy into the overload for more damage.

The electric surge struck one of the frozen virtuals in the center of the group and Lowe felt the detonation vibrate through the floor, heard the spray of lightning and shattering ice. The N4 popped out from behind cover, adjusted for the remaining targets, lined up a shot on one of the asari and pulled the trig-

A virtual rocket slammed into the 'crate' next to her. The kinetic projectile wasn't an actual explosive, but it did simulate some of the force a real rocket would. Lowe's shields dropped instantly and she was knocked back. The sniper regained her posture just in time to catch a smattering of kinetic bullets to the chest and helmet. She dropped to the ground as though hit by a concussive shot.

"Lowe is down", the simulation VI unhelpfully stated. The Lieutenant gritted her teeth and tried to rise despite the pain, but all strength seemed to be gone from her arms. Her rifle was gone, clattered away by the force of the rocket impact. She weakly made to grab for her pistol and hoped it wasn't too late. She could see hostiles moving up the ramp, weapons baring down on her.

Not gonna make it, she realized, her thoughts frantic. Not gonna-

And then the Commander was among them.

He appeared from somewhere off to her left. She couldn't believe how fast he was, even with her enhanced eyesight she could hardly follow his movements. He was a black-armored nightmare wreathed in the caution-red glow of his holographic, foucault-laced tech armor. His primary sidearm was ready in his grip, a custom, fully-automatic prototype.

Shepard sidestepped a hail of gunfire. Point-blank, Lowe thought as she struggled to rise. No way.

The Commander didn't share Lowe's awe. His black handgun spat a deluge of shots into the face of a turian target and exploded its virtual head. Shepard shifted his aim and unleashed another series of headshots, earning two more kills. The remaining hostiles readjusted their targeting and let fly with a hell of bullets. The Commander raised his left arm, a flash of crimson light taking form to catch the shots with a geometric, holographic shield. The gunfire poured on him to no effect; crouched behind his omni-shield, Shepard was an unbreakable wall. He fired his sidearm one-handed, the weapon chattering with each shot. More and more targets went down, their shields unable to handle the deluge of disruptor rounds. One of them got too close and Shepard lashed out with his shield, the kinetic force of the omni-weapon sending the virtual flying back before it vanished.

Lowe managed to grab her Predator from its holster and shift into a prone firing position. She fired a trio of shots, one of which went wide. The other two were headshots on the nearest target, an armored human (or batarian, she couldn't tell with the helmets). The virtual vanished as it died and Lowe used the moment to move herself behind the 'crates' and out of sight.

She took a deep breath and moved out of cover on the right side, hoping to take her targets by surprise, but there wasn't any point. Shepard was already in close-quarters. Lowe could've taken a nap and it would have made little difference. She didn't know what the legal definition of the word 'transhuman' was, but her interpretation was pretty much 'crazy-skilled death-dealer'.

The Black Death, Lowe marveled. Here he goes.

The Commander holstered his pistol and shrouded his free arm in icy-blue omni-tool. A spray of snap-freezing coolant coated the remaining hostiles, their shields unable to handle the intense cold. The virtuals began to freeze in place, unable to fight back. A scorching incineration-blast shot out from the Commander's omni-tool; a ball of fire headed right for the center of the group. The resulting cryo-explosion was immediate and enormously effective. Those enemies whose shields were weak or neutralized detonated with sprays of flaming ice, annihilated even as they struggled against the cold. The virtuals that weren't killed outright were damaged considerably, vulnerable to the Black Death's assault.

Shepard emerged from behind his shield, black shotgun in his grip; the compact frame of his fully automatic prototype. A red-hot omni-blade jutted out from under the weapon's barrel, nearly a foot of sizzling sharpness. The Commander killed the nearest target with single blast and closed in with the bayonet, shots pinging off of his shields.

Lowe scored a few more shots with her pistol and eliminated a few of the programs, but the fight belonged to Shepard. He was a whirlwind of lethality, shotgun barking and blade flashing in a brutal dance. He didn't fight so much as he simply killed; a target vanished every time the N7 struck. Shepard slashed, fired and stabbed as though he'd rehearsed it. He moved like water, never stopping for long, firing and reloading as he tore through the virtuals.

As if Shepard's skill with a bayonet wasn't more than a match for the combat programs, the sheer firepower of his Piranha shotgun guaranteed a slaughter. Spitting inferno rounds that torched and exploded, nothing stood long in the face of the Black Death's fiery assault.

The digital killing spree continued until only one target remained. A big krogan, gleaming in blue heavy armor, leveled its virtual shotgun at the Black Death and fired. Shepard let his shields and tech armor absorb the blow; the kinetic spread didn't even stagger him.

The Commander drained the program's shields with a flash of blue energy, adding their strength to his already formidable defenses. Protected by an additional foucault current, Shepard moved in for the kill, shooting fire as he went. The virtual krogan roared, lowered its hump and charged in, mimicking its real-life counterparts.

The Black Death didn't hesitate. He fired a concussive shot strong enough to stagger the program, the strike primed with an incendiary charge. The krogan stumbled back, armor burning as Shepard moved in and promptly detonated his tech armor.

Lowe was within five meters of the blast itself. The exploding hologram met the virtual's still-flaming form, culminating in a fire-explosion that made her teeth shake. The detonation vaporized the krogan instantly, overkill clearly translating into a digital format. The blast hadn't even disturbed Shepard; his shields and heavy simply absorbed all the residual impact. Fire blazed around him briefly, highlighting the ebon frame of his hardsuit.

All enemies defeated, the simulation VI intoned. Congratulations. Simulation reset in progress. All combatants, please exit through the main doors.

"Holy shit, sir," Lowe breathed, her ears ringing. She reloaded her sidearm, still shaken.

A new voice, male and very gruff, crackled over the simulation deck's comm. "Impressive work," Admiral Tadius Ahern said, his voice tinged with just the right mix of approval and healthy skepticism. "Though I'd advise that you both weigh the pros and cons of standing in the way of incoming fire."

"Nothing I haven't heard before, Ahern," the Commander said, his voice somehow both mild and forceful. The Admiral made a huff over the comm, but said nothing else. The N7 popped the Piranha's heat sink, shut off its omni-blade and holstered the shotgun at the small of his back.

Without a word, Shepard walked over to Lowe and held out a gauntlet. She took the proffered hand and the Commander hauled her upright without any fuss whatsoever.

Lowe stood slightly shorter than most marines and she knew it, but she looked absolutely minuscule when compared to the Commander. Shepard was just shy of 6 feet tall but his presence towered over her. His new custom armor, imposing and nearly all jet-black, was a strange blend of turian and human designs; predatory and geometric around the shoulders and upper chest, but sleek and less angular around the arms, waist and legs. The white-red arm-piping that designated an N7 was heavily muted; the iconic red and white piping barely visible against the plating of his right arm. In addition, the matching chestplate lettering was dulled to make it almost unnoticeable from even a short distance. Shepard didn't like flashy, bright armor; the Commander valued practicality and usefulness above all things. As if to highlight that fact, a long combat knife was strapped to Shepard's chestplate, secured just above his heart.

Beneath the heavy ceramic plating was a sleek black bodyglove that looked far more comfortable and protective than Lowe's baseline layering. The Commander's head was covered by an angular hardsuit helmet that mostly consisted of additional armor plating. A Y-shaped, dusky visor allowed Shepard vision and could be adjusted with different levels of opacity; anywhere between crystal-clear or jet-black. The Commander currently had it set somewhere around mid-translucence.

"You didn't give up," Shepard said, a hand on Lowe's shoulder. She could see the movement of his mouth and the whites of his teeth through the visor, but that was all. "That's what an N7 is, Lieutenant. We never give up. We fight and we die, but a true N7 never throws in the towel. You did good." She could hear a bit of humor rise into his voice. "That being said, any designated sniper knows that they have to hang onto their weapon. Keep that rifle close next time, Lieutenant. A sniper without her weapon is no sniper at all."

"Sir," Lowe said quietly, unsure whether to be pleased by Shepard's approval or upset at his bland teasing.

The Admiral's voice blared over the speakers once again. "If you two are done playing tea party, I just received word from Arcturus. You've got new orders. Grab your gear and meet me over by the staging area. Shuttle'll be here in thirty minutes. Ahern out."

Lowe could tell Shepard was frowning simply by the way his voice dropped in pitch and grew in frustration. "Something's up," he mused, muffled slightly by the helmet speaker.

"Sir?" she asked. Uncertainty from the Black Death? Never.

"Grab your gun, Lieutenant." His tone was frozen helium.

"Time to see what all the fuss is about."

-29 March 2183-

The Shrike Abyssal/Xe Cha System/Tosal Nym Orbit/Quarian Liveship Rayya.

Auntie Raan had assured Tali that the seme'desh, Tali's departure ceremony, would involve as little fuss as possible. But, as Tali walked alongside Quala and toward the Rayya's main docking bay, she realized by the size of the crowd ahead that 'fuss' wasn't going to apply to the situation at all. No, Tali just knew her departure would be an ordeal at best, a mess at worst.

"Can't we do this without so many people?" Tali complained. "Keelah, I don't need this nonsense right before I head out on Pilgrimage."

Quala's laughter echoed through her mask and glowed in her eyes. "Aww, is Tali upset that she's got such a big going away party? Poor thing, I'll pray to the Ancestors so that you have less people who care about you in your life." The tall scout shook her head with humored exasperation.

"It's not like that," Tali claimed as she nervously dry-washed her hands. "I just didn't want there to be such a fuss! There weren't this many people at Reegar's seme'desh."

A soft, male voice floated humorously over the two women. "That's because Reegar wasn't an Admiral's daughter, ma'am."

Tali' and Quala turned to see Kal'Reegar vas Rayya approaching, his posture and poise all military. Reegar's suit was a mix of tanned cloth and crimson armor plating. His visor was a tinted black, but anyone could spot the warm smile that glowed in his eyes.

"Kal'Reegar!" Tali said, her earlier trepidation gone at the sight of her childhood friend. "I was worried you wouldn't be able to make it."

"Wouldn't miss this for anything, ma'am."

Tali scowled a little at the marine. "Reegar, how many times have I told you to address me by my name?"

The smile in Reegar's eyes glowed with brief amusement. "Numerous times, ma'am."

She groaned with mock annoyance and moved to embrace Reegar. She and the marine shared a brief, very chaste hug. That was for Quala's benefit, not for her own.

Still, Quala looked put off as the two separated. "Don't I get a hug, Kal?" she asked, her tone and body language heavily laced with flirt and want.

The marine cleared his throat and looked away. "It's good to see you, Quala'Oro," he said, after a moment's awkwardness.

Quala huffed and made a show of turning to walk away, only to be blocked by a pair of familiar figures. "Nolta'Raan! Forzan'Le!" Quala squealed in delight. She rushed forward and embraced her two friends, leaving Tali and Reegar to watch, bemused.

Forzan stumbled back a step under Quala's affectionate assault. "Careful!" she snapped, her voice laced with indignation. "We're not all giants like you, Oro. Give a couple their breathing space!" Forzan's vas suit was a black affair trimmed with bronze, and the embroidery on her shawls and hood suggested a camouflage pattern.

Quala took a step back, surprise clear in her eyes. "Couple? Then you two are-"

Forzan pointed down at her right thigh with pride. Wrapped around her leg, just above the knee, was a wide band of cloth; the traditional ke'lata, or promise band. The female symbol of accepted betrothal to a mate, Forzan's ke'lata was a stunning, complex weave of soft copper tones and brilliant, silvery inlay.

Reegar and Tali approached the trio and Tali gasped when she saw Forzan's ke'lata. "It's beautiful!" she exclaimed. "Nolta, how'd you get it to shine like that?"

Nolta'Raan vas Moreh, standing proud in his sterile white and black-trimmed vas suit, grinned from eye to eye behind the smokey grey of his visor. "Let's just say that while making the ke'lata is difficult enough as it is, weaving laced platinum into the material didn't make things easier."

Quala gasped and covered her mouthpiece. "Nolta, you didn't!"

"I did," he chuckled. "And no, I don't care how much trouble I get into. It was worth it."

Forzan giggled like a girl fresh out of her bubble. "He wants the whole Fleet to know I'm his," she said as she wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him close. They touched visors and stared longingly into each others eyes, very much unaware of the galaxy around them.

Quala made an exasperated sound and shook her head. "Keelah, get a conjugal room, you two."

Tali elbowed Quala in the side and beamed at her cousin and his betrothed as they turned back to the group. "What she meant to say was that she's very happy for you both. We all are."

"Good on you, Nolta," Reegar said. He reached out and clasped Nolta's arm warmly. "Was hoping you'd make an honest woman out of Forzan here sooner rather than later. Was afraid you'd be old and ill before you worked up the nerve."

"The heart knows what it seeks," Nolta quoted, "And neither void nor desert can stand in its path."

"Nolta'Raan..." Forzan breathed, her voice husky. She pulled him closer and ran a single finger down the front of his suit.

"Ahem," Reegar coughed loudly. The happy couple quickly remembered their discretion and separated slightly, but they still remained holding one another. Tali and Quala burst out laughing and Reegar appeared to stifle a heavy chuckle.

"Now what's so important over here that you're keeping the rest of us waiting, Tali'Zorah?"

The group turned and saw Shala'Raan vas Tonbay, Admiral of the Patrol Fleet and Nolta's mother, approach from out of the restless crowd by the docking bay.

Reegar immediately snapped to attention and placed his right fist over his heart in salute. "Admiral on-deck!" Quala, also military, followed suit.

The Admiral's eyes glowed with quiet amusement. "At ease, both of you. The only sort of ceremony we should be concerned with right now is Tali'Zorah's seme'desh." Shala'Raan's body-language conveyed a soft, motherly note alongside the typical military rigidity, and the artistic mix of brown, maroon and black on her suit only added to her poise and grace.

"You haven't answered my question, Tali'Zorah," Raan said, bemused. "All these people are here to-"

"Mother," Nolta interrupted, gesturing toward Forzan's ke'lata.

"Oh," Raan said, not seeing. Then she understood and her eyes glowed with delight. "Oh! Son, you-"

"She said yes," Nolta laughed. "Took me almost a week to get the blasted thing finished, but-"

"Totally worth it," Forzan giggled. She wrapped her arms around Nolta's neck and held him close for a moment before turning to bow before Raan. "Admiral and mother of my betrothed, I humbly ask for your blessing over our coming union."

Raan bowed in approval. "You have it. I'm pleased to welcome you to the family, Forzan'Le vas Idenna."

Forzan beamed. "Thank you, Admiral." She turned to Tali, soft apology in her eyes. "We were going to wait until you got back from Pilgrimage, didn't want to overshadow your seme'desh, but-"

"Oh hush," Tali said as she embraced her friend. "You two deserve your happiness now, not later. Besides, this is exactly the sort of thing I needed to see before heading out."

"Speaking of which," Admiral Raan said with a glance back at the anticipating crowd, "We can't leave these people standing around all day, Tali'Zorah. It's time."

Tali sighed heavily and adjusted well-stuffed pack on her shoulders. "Oh all right. Let's get this over with."

Quala laughed and gave Tali a condescending pat on the back. "That's the spirit, Tali!"

The group pushed their way through the throng of people that had gathered for Tali's seme'desh. Well, Tali and Admiral Raan didn't need to push through since the crowd was parting for them, but Reegar, Quala, Nolta and Forzan had to squeeze their way to the front of the assembled crowd, everyone excited and eager to see the Admiral's daughter off. People applauded, wished Tali well, gave her their blessings and best wishes. It was almost overwhelming.

Tali suppressed a nervous gulp. Standing by the docking hatch to her transit shuttle, flanked on both sides by a group of the Rayya's marines, were Captain Kar'Danna vas Rayya, Admiral Han'Gerrel vas Neema, and Tali's father. Admiral Rael'Zorah vas Alarei, she reminded herself. Admiral, and you're the Admiral's daughter. Stand up straight. Posture straightened instantly.

Shala'Raan took her place next to the other Admirals and the Captain. Kar'Danna's posture exulted a sense of personal pride, appropriate considering that Tali was part of his crew. The light caught the blue-trimmed tan of Kar'Danna's suit and gave him an almost regal glow.

Han'Gerrel's eyes were alive with satisfaction, a sharp contrast to the Admiral's grey and unadorned vas suit. That was Han'Gerrel, all military. His eyes glowed, bright, affectionate and the Admiral's hands were clasped behind his back in a sign of respect.

Tali's father, in comparison, showed hardly any emotion at all. The soft tan base-layer of Rael's suit was accented by a rosy pink color that all quarians associated with rank and respect. His posture was rigid and very much that of an Admiral, formal and overbearing. Tali was almost disheartened to see that there was more fatherly affection in Admiral Gerrel's eyes than in her father's. But, as was the case, familiarity bred a feeling of detachment and mild contempt. Tali's relationship with her father had been reduced to a cool greeting or vid-call now and again. Such was her life.

Still, Tali did see a note of fatherly pride in Rael's eyes when she approached and bowed to the Admirals. The crowd behind her quieted almost instantly. Tradition needed to be observed, even the formalities.

It was Kar'Danna who spoke first, his right as Captain of Tali's birthship. "We gather here," he began, his voice tinged with both good cheer and authority, "To witness the seme'desh of our own, Tali'Zorah nar Rayya. As Captain of her ship, I carry privilege to bestow both first blessings and first gifts." His eyes glowed with pride. "So, Tali'Zorah nar Rayya, I wish you the best of luck on your Pilgrimage. May the Ancestors guide you back home to us with riches and wisdom."

Tali bowed, her heart filled with praise. "Thank you, Captain. I won't let you down."

Kar'Danna returned the bow, his eyes lit up with a smile. "And now, Tali'Zorah, I present to you my gift, to ensure your safe return to our people." The Captain reached over hip with his right hand, unholstered his pistol and presented it to Tali, grip first.

A collective gasp went up from the watching audience as Tali took the proffered weapon. It was a heavy sidearm, and older model Hahne-Kedar Carnifex with an extended magazine, but to Tali it was a gift beyond repayment. Receiving a Captain's sidearm meant that Tali not only had the Captain's trust on her shoulders, but the entirety of the Rayya's crew as well.

"Th- thank you," Tali stuttered. "Captain. Thank you."

The smile in the Captain's eyes was obvious. "You'll do us proud, Tali'Zorah. I know it."

Admiral Shala'Raan vas Tonbay was next, and she bowed formally. "Tali, it has been my pleasure to watch you grow into such a fine woman. I cannot express the pride I feel in this moment. Though I am saddened by your departure, I am also joyed to know that you will return to us, stronger and wiser than when you left."

"Many thanks, Admiral," Tali said with a matching bow.

The Admiral's eyes gleamed with motherly affection. "If only your mother were able to see this day. Her spirit will be your guardian in the days to come. Remember the love she had for you, the love that we all hold, and you will find your way back." Raan pulled out a small bauble and held it out for Tali to take. "I've carried this token with me a long time, Tali. She would have wanted you to have this."

Tali took the trinked and gazed down at its polished surface. It was a metal disk, small enough to fit in the palm of her hand. Carved into the disk was an artisan's representation of the Rayya, down to the smallest detail. Tali held in a breath; the workmanship was stunning.

"Your mother carved that when she was pregnant with you," Raan said. "She would have wanted to be here today. She would have been so proud of you, Tali."

Tali didn't have the words. She simply embraced the Admiral, the carving tight in her hand, and struggled to hold back the tears that threatened to flow.

After a moments' embrace, (during which could be heard the sobs of several quarians, Quala's sobs the loudest among them), Tali and the Admiral separated. Raan stepped aside and allowed Han'Gerrel to take his place before Tali. There was an amused glint in his eye.

"It's going to be hard to follow that up," Gerrel said warmly. The crowd broke into soft laughter. "But I've never been one to stand on pomp and ceremony, so I suppose I'll do all right." The Admiral of the Heavy Fleet winked at Tali. "Now then, young lady, would you like a shotgun from Uncle Gerrel?"

Tali grinned while others laughed. "Sir, yes sir!" she exclaimed, adopting a crisp, military stance.

"Good girl," the Admiral said with a laugh. A nearby marine approached and handed Gerrel a heavily modified M-23 Katana shotgun. The weapon's gunmetal blue glowed softly under the room's light, and a collective note of appreciation rose from the crowd.

"Virgin gun from the new shipment," Gerrel explained as he cradled the weapon. "Hasn't been fired except for range-testing. It's got strong recoil dampeners and reduced pellet spread. And, as an added bonus..." He pressed an activation panel near the trigger guard and a glowing omni-blade appeared from under the shotgun's barrel. "Came pre-installed with a top of the line bayonet." Tali's eyes glowed with appreciation and Gerrel laughed. "Though you might like that," he said as he shut off the omni-blade. He handed the weapon to Tali, who took it with as much reverence as when she'd received Kar'Danna's pistol.

"Thank you, Admiral," she breathed as she heaved the Katana's weight and admired the sleekness of the new weapon.

Gerrel huffed with good humor. "Excuse me? I think you meant to say-"

"Thank you, Uncle Gerrel," Tali said, grinning. She holstered the shotgun on a magnetic point on the small of her back and gave the Admiral a warm hug.

Gerrel patted her shoulder fondly. "That's more like it." He broke the embrace and gave a respectful bow. "Stay safe out there, kiddo. I'm hoping that you'll never have to use it, but if you do, make sure you give the bosh'tets something to think about."

"Sir, yes sir!" Tali said, and saluted, a hand over her heart.

Gerrel beamed as he stepped aside to allow Rael to take his place before Tali. She suppressed the urge to draw back a little, as Rael's bearing carried none of the warmth that the others held.

"You are my daughter," Rael began, his voice carrying easily over those assembled. "And it brings me nothing but pride to see you here today, embarking on the journey we all undertake for the good of the Fleet. The burden of our kind, the quarian people, rests on the shoulders of all of our children. We must ensure that they are the best and brightest, so that when we pass into the arms of our ancestors, there will be able souls ready to take up our mantles."

Tali heard the words unspoken, and her heart sank. You will take my place someday, Tali'Zorah. You will guide our people. You will shoulder my burdens. You will sacrifice everything you are, for the good of our people.

Rael placed a heavy hand on Tali's shoulder. "Know that all our hopes go with you on this journey, Tali'Zorah. Know that you carry with you not only your own destiny, but the destiny of all quarians. Know this as you tread into the galaxy, as your footfalls pass beyond the sight of this Fleet."

In other words, 'Don't screw up,' Tali thought bitterly. She forced herself to look humbled as Rael continued.

"You have my blessing, Tali'Zorah nar Rayya. Go now, and discover that which awaits you." He took her hand and placed his gift into her palm.

Tali looked down and her eyes grew wide. Her father's knife, a simple, curved blade of the traditional quarian make, glowed with a soft silver sheen all the way down to the hilt. The small blade was deceptively tough, a steel-tungsten alloy infused with an iriduim weave, the weapon was a relic of Rannoch, passed down Tali's family line since before the Exodus. Its handle was a simple black color and molded to fit a quarian's grip. Practical, just like the quarian people.

She held the knife in here hand and stared for what seemed like a long time. "I... I don't-"

"You'll need this as well," Rael said. He took the knife carefully from her hand and slotted it into a simple black sheathe with twin straps around its length. He placed the sheathed blade back into her hand and nodded. "It served me well on my Pilgrimage, as it did for my mother, and for her father before her. This blade has protected the Zorah family for generations. It is only right that you carry it now, to keep you safe when all seems dire." He bowed, and suddenly Tali found herself flushed with respect for her father.

This is what he looks like when he cares, she though as she returned the bow. Remember this. This is what you'll come home to. His respect. His approval.

"Thank you, Admiral. I'll... I'll make you proud" she said, as though she was only realizing her ability to do so.

He nodded and a smile, a actual smile, glowed briefly in his eyes. "See that you do, Tali'Zorah nar Rayya. Now, I believe there are a few others who wish to say their farewells?"

Tali turned and barely managed to keep her footing when Quala crashed into her. "I don't want you to goooooo..." the scout cried. "You'd better call me as soon as you get to Illium. It doesn't have to be a call, but a message at the very least. If you make me worry, I'll... I'll-"

"Miss you too, Quala," Tali mumbled. The tears that had threatened to flow earlier finally spilled over. This is it, she realized, I'm leaving. Going on my Pilgrimage.

Quala broke the vice-like hug after an uncomfortably long time, still wracked with sobs. She leaned against Reegar for support and the marine obliged her, a rock in her sea of tears. He gave Tali a single, confident nod. Tali reciprocated, feeling leagues more confident from Reegar's simple gesture.

"You stay safe, ma'am." For once, Tali didn't rebuke him for saying 'ma'am'.

Forzan and Nolta were next and Tali embraced both of them in turn. "You be good, cousin." Nolta said, his eyes filled with a sad smile.

"But not too good," Forzan added with a laugh. "Go out there, live a little. Have an adventure. Then come back and tell us all about it."

Tali nodded, tearful but happy. "I will. And I'll come back with the most valuable Pilgrimage gift ever," she stated. And though it sounded like a childish promise, Tali wanted to make it a reality more than anything. For the sake of her Fleet, her people.

Her family.

Tali walked toward the airlock, where a shuttle was docked to take her to the turian tramp freighter Incorrigible. She stood by the door and waited for the airlock to cycle and grant entry.

She looked back over her shoulder one last time. There were the Admirals, her Captain, her friends, her father. They all looked at her expectantly. Quala, Forzan and Nolta waved.

Tali waved back. "I'll see you all soon!" she shouted. Then the airlock door opened and she walked through. She managed one last glance before the door sealed shut, and then they were gone.

I'll be back before you all know it, Tali thought, cradling her knife in her hands. She stooped low and strapped the sheathe firmly to the outside of her left calf.

Of course, had Tali known about the events that would soon follow, events that would boil over with her in the middle of a maelstrom of lies, gunfire, geth and galaxy-shattering revelations, she might have retracted those last words to her friends and family. At the time, the idea of serving on a human ship on a mission to save the galaxy was the last thing she could have imagined.

And the thought of falling in love with its ruthless, dangerous and strangely attractive commanding officer? Well, the idea never even crossed her mind.

LM here,

Okay, got to show off Commander Ramesh a little. Fun action scene. I'd be thrilled to know what kind of first impressions you guys have. I'll flesh him out a bit more next chapter, get inside his head a little. Lowe's an in-game name for one of the Normandy crew. Got a group of human marines lined up for this story. They're not gonna have much screen-time but they'll all have names and some semblance of personality.

Quarian funtimes! It was a blast delving into all this quarian culture stuff. Got to make up a lot, alter a few things, invent words. God, a ton of dialogue in there, too. Lotsa' quarians getting to talk with Tali, a good test-run for any future quarian stuff. Gave me a lot of interesting ideas, some of which I implemented here. Also, I'm planning to re-write the canon Pilgrimage background for Tali, considering that the in-comic version really didn't do it for me. (It's just my opinion, but I always kinda thought that the ME literature was kinda meh).

And Tali, lots of writing about Tali. Always fun.

Levi Matthews