Chapter 4
Tuchanka, the shattered world of the Krogan. As Shepard's feet first touched down on its radioactive soil, her initial reaction to its natural wonder was to cough heavily. The air was toxic and oppressive, bearing the taint of bitter wars borne aloft by choking winds. Its people, the thickly armored and humpbacked krogan, were no more accommodating than the atmosphere. Towering and muscular they met her and the squad with steely eyes and low growls, their aggression and distrust palpable and their trigger fingers itchy, ready within a moment's notice to put down any visitor foolish enough to respond to their bating.
What was supposedly the camp of Clan Urdnot was little more than semi-organized wreckage. Rubble formed roads while the harsh sun cast its rays through holes blasted in the ceiling above them. The sound of metal and muscle smashing into each other as krogan worked and fought filled the air with a dissonant chorus of screeching and scratching. Nary could a friendly face be seen among the crowds of the proudly scarred and battered while even the varren snarled and spit as Shepard walked past, only thin chain leashes preventing them from satiating their appetites with soft, human flesh.
"The Reapers will find their work nearly done should they come to this place." Shepard muttered to herself as she looked upon the world, a broken but jealously guarded pride of a warrior species.
"Let us find Wrex quickly and do what needs to be done. I want to spend as little time as possible here." Miranda said as she took strained breaths. Sweat matted her forehead and her usually well-kept hair was tussled now, a fact she brought attention to by constantly running her fingers through her long, dark locks self-consciously. The white suit she wore had smudges and stains, not from battle but from simply walking at a normal pace. She certainly had not dressed well for the occasion. The black number she had would've been more suitable.
"I see your eyes, Shepard," she said in protest, "and I would say you aren't looking much better."
Shepard laughed, a mistake she regretted quickly as she soon swallowed a large helping of dust that gusted by her.
"Maybe I know of a few people who might like what they see in this new 'rugged' look of yours."
"You know some eligible bachelors?" Miranda asked with a hint of skepticism.
Shepard felt a wicked impulse to shock her second-in-command. Taking a cue from the foul-mouthed Jack, the constant antagonist of the well-heeled woman, she figured a way to send just the right amount of voltage through her serious demeanor.
"Men? Oh, no. Not with your pussy would I fuck any of the guys I know."
Miranda froze in her tracks, her eyes widened as her ears heard such vulgarity from such an unlikely source.
"What-what did you say?!"
Shepard laughed aloud at her great success. Immature as it was, she derived an odd enjoyment from being so careless with her words.
"What did you SAY?" Miranda repeated. With a great burst of energy, she charged at Shepard, giving chase as if to extract retribution. Bits of stone and clouds of dust were unsettled as she cut a path to her target. As she finally came upon her, she reached out as if to seeking to make a capture. Unfortunately, her foot seemed to overreach and she looked as if she were about to tumble.
With two hands Shepard swung around and grabbed the woman, holding on to her before a tragic misstep caused her to fall. As Miranda steadied herself in her arms, dust rising around them, they both took stock of the closeness they had been forced into.
It took a few moments for the now shaken Ms. Lawson to recover her thoughts. Her face was just inches from Shepard's own and their eyes had now met.
"Very unbecoming language," Miranda said, her voice low, "I expect better from you."
Shepard sighed. "I know. A bit of the sailor talk that you pick up aboard ship. I don't mean to disappoint you." With her hand she gently pushed away hairs that blocked Miranda's eyes. The touch of her fingers seemed to unsettle the already frayed nerves of the woman before her. "You know I rib you out of affection, right?"
"You ass." Miranda said with a look of hurt on her face, "I am glad you are in a better mood though. After, well, what happened with Kasumi."
"I really did make a spectacle of myself at the party didn't I?" A look of regret passed over Shepard's features.
"Your feelings were understandable. That thief-woman is very forward, very abrupt sometimes. She keeps prodding me about Jacob. I sometimes have the urge to slap the hood right off her head."
"Kasumi is alright. I think death has not only made my humor more twisted, but the inconvenience of the experience has made me a bit sensitive."
Shepard had said the statement in a joking way, but it seemed Miranda did not pick up on that as the sternness in her face dropped away into a look of concern.
"We have moved fast, haven't we? I had always wanted your adjustment period to be more relaxed. I am sorry events have made that impossible."
"I am fine, my friend. Well, fine enough to fight at least. Which is what matters, I would think. Anyway, if we want to get off this planet we had better get down to business." Shepard turned as if to continue on her way on the rough trail ahead of them.
"I worry about you." Miranda said suddenly. The look that crept over her face betrayed how taken aback she was at her own outburst.
"Ms. Lawson, I have to admit to being flattered by your attention to my wellbeing." Shepard responded as she looked back at, a smirk on her face.
"Don't patronize me," Miranda insisted, "I meant what I said."
Making her way back to her now cross armed companion, Shepard placed a hand on her shoulder.
"I know you care. It's because of people like you that I can bear all of this madness."
Miranda placed her own hand on Shepard's opposing shoulder. She made a slow trail down her arm, her eyes following the gentle movement. Then, she reversed course, her fingers now sliding upwards towards what little was revealed of the Commander's armored neck.
The intimacy of the moment took Shepard by surprise. This was entirely unexpected but not something that was unpleasant. It had been a long while since someone had touched her like this and she found herself actually savoring the moment. The passing of such a loving touch pierced through her armor, warming the flesh beneath with its intent. Her breathing began to quicken a bit and time seemed to slow down as she let her senses wander in Miranda's caress. While the dank, cavern like camp of the Urdnot was an odd location, the many points of light from above laid a mystical scene. If imagination could take the two from a place of stone and metal and into a thick and ancient forest, the leafy canopy above penetrated by a more gentle star, it would have made the whole vision more picturesque and fitting.
"Admiring your work?" Shepard said slowly, as if mesmerized.
"Just making sure you are taking care of my greatest achievement." Miranda responded.
The seconds would have extended into a blessed eternity if not for the sound of someone clearing their throat, breaking the dreamy mists around the two women.
"As much as myself and the male krogan here might like to see the kinetic barriers between you two drop and this tension relieved, I remember a set of missions we have here," Garrus said, his probable sarcastic smile hidden by his helmet, "something to with Grunt, Mordin's friend, and a few other odds and ends?"
"I was just reinforcing the importance of being a good example to the crew." Miranda said, quickly stepping away from Shepard. "Just watch the language, Commander."
"Yes, very good Miranda. Thank you." Shepard said.
For the most part their trip was to be a familiar affair. Another set of missions to be done, all top-priority stuff meriting Shepard's personal presence. The high point was seeing Wrex again; his warm and enthusiastic greeting was a rare treat. So far, reunions with old 'friends' had been rather melancholy affairs. They had spoken, even had a few moments of reflecting on what had been. It had been good to see him and his accomplishments. Yet, they could not linger, especially with Miranda's impatient gaze burning at her back.
It was not until they had to attend to Mordin's business that the entire venture took a turn for the worst. Shepard had heard of the Genophage before, but now in front of her very eyes she saw its horrific effects laid bare.
Warped and broken krogan, many of them females, rotted on flimsy and dirty slabs. Still-born fetuses and other grisly remains of what had been attempts at reproduction were piled into filthy corners; the smell coming from them was noxious.
The work to combat this "gentle genocide" was little better. The remains of test subjects, some of them human, filled small, tightly packed chambers. Rejected or their purpose complete, they were discarded. Other signs of terrible experimentation, including living krogan pumped full of drugs and suffering in either madness or a deep depression were found. Many resigned themselves to death, believing what they had been subject to was necessary, even righteous.
"Go now. Rest. Find peace." Mordin had said as he passed his hand over the twisted form what was a krogan female.
Shepard stood not far from the spiritual musings of the salarian doctor.
"Remind me that sentient life is supposed to be the force for good here…" Shepard said wistfully. The supposed war against the Reapers was to sweep away their darkness, but she was finding the Galaxy black enough without the presence of machine-gods.
"Free will is a gift and curse. How awful are the examples of it misused." Miranda said.
After they beat a path back to the Normandy, Shepard retired to her quarters as quickly as she could. Her earlier explosion during Kasumi's get together was still fresh in peoples' minds and her embarrassment over it had been coped with by simply shutting out social interaction aboard ship. She spent a lot of time alone now, hoping to recreate a detached and feared image rather than the emotional wreck she must have seemed before.
After a long shower where she had imagined the water washing away ugliness both inside and out, she jumped into casual clothes and was now sitting alone on her couch. If few other luxuries could be relied upon, the burden of command granted her at least the benefit of spacious and well equipped quarters on the Normandy.
Her arms were bare in her thin, white undershirt. Plain, gray shorts were the only other covering she had on and her long legs stretched themselves out over the floor and rested upon a nearby table. For a moment she marveled at her body, not in vanity but out of fascination. From what she had heard, she had been little more than "meat and tubes", and now here she was, her form as it ever had been.
She ran her long and delicate fingers over the smooth, brown skin of her exposed thigh. A flash of memory brought back what she had felt when Miranda had touched her. If she had allowed herself to hold onto such a thought, she worried she would become oddly aroused and quickly shook herself away from her self-absorbed staring. One thing death had not done was to cease her human hunger for sex. In fact, if she were of a less disciplined mind, she would find the aching for that type of contact very distracting.
She pulled out a small, brown piece of paper from a package. A tin next to her lay open and she began to arrange bits of what looked like green plant matter from it very carefully in the center of the paper. With dexterous fingers, she rolled a tight cigarette shape. With a dramatic gesture, she flicked open an old-style lighter and lit the end of her handiwork.
Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes and let her mind wander. She held her breath, allowing the smoke to waft through her lungs, spreading the medicine, or poison, of choice throughout her body. Exhaling, only the barest wisps of what she had been taken in emerged from her mouth. She knew this was a bad habit, or looked down upon by some, but she didn't care. It was better than sucking down the multitude of pills she might have been given from a psychiatrist.
"Play music. Playlist A." she commanded to the air.
The deep thumping of bass began to fill the room. It was a familiar song. An old song, by Earth standards, but even so she still enjoyed it. This type of music still described much of the reality of where she had grown up. It was pathetic really to realize how little had changed.
Perhaps I was addicted to the dark side
Somewhere inside my childhood I missed my heart die
And even though we both came from the same places
The money and the fame made us all change places
Laying into the cushions, she bobbed her head up and down with the music, stopping only occasionally to take another drag on the "medication" between her fingers. She let herself get lost into the song, its lyrics, and its chorus.
Ain't flashed a smile in a long while
An unexpected birth worst of the ghetto child
My attitude got me walking solo
Ride out alone in my low-low
Watching the whole world move in slow-mo
For quiet times disappear listen to the ocean
Smoking Ports think my thoughts
Then it's back to coasting
Who can I trust in this cold world…
She struggled with her memories, seeking something that would bring happiness to her in moments like this. Thoughts of Liara filled her head, but even the sweetest of them were painted over with cruel reality, the realization of the person she seemed to be now. What was Liara to her? Was there something to be salvaged? Had she moved on? What if there was someone else now?
Jealousy, confusion, anger, all the wrong things broke into her meditations. Why was there nothing she could recall that was pleasant and uplifting?
It was the chorus now.
So take, these broken wings
I need your hands to come and heal me once again
(Until the end of time)
So I can fly away, until the end of time…
Suddenly, a noise broke her introspection and she realized someone was outside her door, pressing a button to request entry.
"Damn it! Who the hell-" she spat.
Moving quickly she put out the joint in her fingers, smashing it into a small ashtray, and then tucked away all evidence of what she had been doing. Waving her hands frantically, she tried to get rid of the telling smell of her activity while speaking for the music to cease.
"Enter!" she finally said. She was hardly dressed for visitors, but anyone who had the audacity to visit her deserved no-
"Shepard!"
It was Kelly Chambers. She now felt rather ashamed of her appearance. Her hair was a mess and her clothes were hardly appropriate. She was trapped. Crossing her arms defensively, realizing she had not even bothered to put on a bra, she stood to greet the visitor.
Kelly, on the other hand, was quite striking. Her short, red hair was perfectly done, not even a single strand out of place. Her face looked fresh and rested, her skin smooth and without even the hint of a flaw. She was wearing a short-sleeved shirt with interesting patterns cut around its neck. Long pants, sticking to her slender legs, were neat and pressed. Somehow she always looked put-together, as if blissfully unaware that she was operating aboard a warship. In both hands she held bags, their contents a mystery.
"Kelly, I, uh, didn't expect you." Shepard responded with her best attempt at appearing relaxed and confident. The words came out clumsily, but she had given it a shot.
"You haven't been up to see me in awhile. You've been taking all your messages here. I thought you might be hungry after your mission, so I brought dinner." She held up her arms, slightly shaking the bags she was gripping to indicate what they contained.
"Ah, you didn't have too-"
"Of course I didn't. I wanted to." Kelly said with a cheery smile.
Standing up, Shepard awkwardly motioned for the woman to lay everything out on the table in front of the couch.
"How rude I must seem not to come over to greet you. Sit over here."
Kelly seemed to hop and skip over to her. As she placed the bags on the table, she stepped forward and came in close for a hug. The ebullient redhead must have changed her perfume, as she now smelled of lilacs. The scent was subtle, but it made one, as if by instinct, breathe in deeply to take it all in.
"It has been too long. You should come out more often." Kelly said. Before she released her embrace, she planted a kiss right on Shepard's cheek. She must have been in a very good mood.
Kelly suddenly sniffed the air, her nose raised high and a look of recognition soon breaking over her face.
"Well, now, Commander. I didn't know you were someone who enjoyed the herb now and then." Kelly said with a grin.
Flustered, Shepard covered her face.
"You caught me with one of my many vices, I am afraid. It is curious how quickly you recognized the smell."
As Kelly sat, now carefully removing containers full of food, she smirked and began to speak.
"Well, we all have to find a way to take the edge off don't we? Maybe we can share your vice after dinner, for research purposes of course."
Shepard chuckled and sat down next to the newly revealed worldly woman.
"Well, whatever you brought smells good. I am glad you are here as well."
"It's Mexican food. I thought you might like it. A taste of home?" Kelly said, turning her face towards Shepard.
She had certainly done her research. Despite appearing asian, the ethnic salad bowl where Shepard had been raised was far more Latin in its culture than anything else.
"You impress me again, Ms. Chambers. I have not had food like this for some time."
Kelly barely contained a self-assured smile, obviously pleased at having done well.
"Well, let us eat. We have a lot to catch up on. I am especially interested in learning more about your musical taste. You are a surprising woman."
She did her research AND paid attention. This Kelly Chambers could be a dangerous one.
Dinner turned out to be chicken mole, a favorite dish of Shepard's. The brown, chocolate-based sauce slathered over meat that fell apart at the touch was a more that welcome change from the freeze-dried or, worse, squeeze tube substances that counted as "food" in space. Their talk meandered from subject to subject. It was nice to be able to discuss anything other than the missions and the Collectors for once. Instead, they conversed about music, art, and even clothing, all very "normal" things but the type of interaction Shepard had been lacking for so long.
Kelly seemed to light up during their time together and her energy, her zest for life was contagious. Shepard found herself eagerly interjecting her own thoughts, rolling with laughter, and being able to show something of her feminine side without reproach. Not unexpectedly, the conversation eventually turned to subjects of the heart and romance.
"I've dated quite a bit in my time," Kelly said after taking a large gulp of wine, "but none of them ever managed to stick, really. Different people for different phases of my life. I think I learned something from each of them and would never have any regrets."
Shepard wished she had something to add, but she had about as much experience with relationships as she did with a quiet life of reflection and tranquility. That is to say, not very much.
"Any of them special to you, or stand out?" she asked.
Kelly put down her glass and crossed her legs. She seemed lost in thought for a moment
"Well, there were a few. There was one guy I really fell hard for. It was during college and he and I studied the same subjects. I was devoted to him, maybe even crazy about him. I helped wash his clothes, organized and cleaned his room, kept him company while he burned the midnight oil in pursuit of his degree. I did it all out of love. I never complained when he got awards and recognition as I felt that it was our success, not just an individual effort. I was proud of him and didn't mind making the sacrifices."
Kelly's pursed her lips, a brief cloud passed over her face.
"He had different ideas after graduation. I pleaded to go with him, but he wanted his own way. I ate a lot of ice cream and watched sappy videos after that." She said with a laugh.
Shepard had been doing far different things during what should've been her college years. Even so, she felt sympathy for Kelly.
"Sounds like he was a jerk. He missed out on someone very special, I think."
Kelly blushed and smiled warmly at her.
"I think, in the end, I have learned to surround myself with better people." Her eyes lingered for a bit on Shepard's face. She broke her stare quickly, now seemingly surging back to life with energy.
"So, tell me about yourself. Such a charming and sexy woman must have left many men's hearts in pieces?" Kelly said with a furtive glance.
Shepard mind raced with a witty reply or sly transition to another line of conversation. Instead, she just appeared bumbling and taken aback.
"Ah, no," she eventually admitted, "I have pathetically limited experience with matters of love and things like that."
"Oh?" Kelly said with a surprised look, "I would've thought, well never mind."
"There was really only Liara. She was my first in a real sense."
A few moments passed in quiet between them. Kelly seemed to be considering her next words carefully.
"She means a lot to you, doesn't she?" she said, her voice low and somber.
She did mean a lot to Shepard. Looking in the distance, towards her terminal, she could see the back of a small picture frame which still flickered with Liara's likeness. It would always be in her line of sight as she typed away, a constant reminder of what she was supposed to be fighting for, or so she thought.
"Liara understood me in a way no one else could. She accepted me for everything I was and was not. She even-" Shepard paused, "she took on parts of my past that she didn't have to. Ugly things that she bore on her back to let me finally breathe after so long."
Kelly shifted herself over and wrapped an arm around her. Her hand gently massaged her shoulder.
"I don't mean to bring up sad memories. We can talk about something else, if you'd like." Kelly said in a soothing voice.
"No!" she said quickly, "I think I want to talk about this with somebody. Somebody I can trust like you."
Kelly nodded understandingly.
"Like I said, she was my first, in many ways. At first, I rebuffed her advances. She was so eager, so inquisitive. I felt like she was studying me, at first, like one of her Prothean artifacts!" she said with a chuckle, "Turns out that was her way of approaching people, the only way she knew how. We became friends and then much more than that. I danced with her one night on the Citadel, the first time we had ever been so close. After that we talked and I finally accepted there was something between us, something worth cherishing. We were inseparable after that."
"So," Kelly said apprehensively, "she was your first…girlfriend?"
Shepard thought back to the first young girl she had kissed, a confident and beautiful blonde. That happy memory was bloodied with the way she had been taken from her.
"There was, well, sort of someone else. I was still a skinny teenager with a school uniform as my only nice pair of clothes. She died though. It never became anything other than a passing fancy."
"I am sorry to hear that. Was she sick?" Kelly asked.
Did she really want to tell her all that had happened? The things that only Liara knew?
"No, but it sure felt like the world was."
Kelly waited patiently, aware that she was struggling with painful remembrance.
"I don't know if I should tell you some of these things Kelly. Maybe I am drunk or too high, but part of me wants to even though I thought I never would say such things to anyone."
Kelly pulled herself even closer, her head now leaning against Shepard's own. Her arms wrapped around her waist, giving comfort and reassurance.
"I will listen if you want to share. If it will help you, I am here." She said.
Shepard swallowed her fear and began to speak.
For the first time she was breathing into life terrible visions that had once haunted her every moment. It was all coming out, in one rushing stream of consciousness.
She told of her sister's murder. She spoke of how she escaped the ghetto, to a new school with new friends and how she shared her first kiss, well, the first several dozen kisses, under the a tree, shaded from the afternoon sun. She spent time talking about the one who had pulled her close that day. How she didn't judge Shepard for her poverty and where she came from. How her hands roamed over her body and triggered the kinds of pleasant sensations she had never known of but in books of romance.
She touched on how her friend's lives were snuffed out to spite her. How she was forced to look upon their corpses, especially of the violated body of her first "love". Her voice deepened in anger as she recalled how she unleashed a terrible vengeance upon those who hurt her.
At the end, she even told what had happened to her at the tender age of fourteen, the singular even that initiated her metamorphosis from a sheltered and wide-eyed girl and into the woman she was today, for better or worse. A simple verb was all that would be necessary to describe the act but Shepard had always hesitated to use the word as part of her felt that by simply saying it, she would be all the weaker and uglier for it. The painful descriptions of what had transpired, the theft of what should have been hers to give in love and no ones to take by violence left Kelly with no doubt as to what had occurred.
As her tale ended, Shepard found she had shed few tears. Maybe the passage of time had healed the wounds, maybe she was just cold to what had happened. She just was tired of crying.
"That is why Liara was so different, so important," she said, "I could never regain what I had lost. With her it didn't matter. She helped me carry my cross and, more than that, her own grace was undiminished by the horror of the world around us. She was the anchor to a place I could never return to but always defend. Her love was unconditional, without blemish or deceit."
Kelly's own eyes were wet as even the retelling of such days brought sorrow to her. She said nothing for a few moments and then, with a forceful determination, pulled Shepard into her arms, holding her head tightly against her chest. She placed a kiss upon her face and rocked slowly as a mother would to a crying child.
"I am sorry. I never should have told you all that. It was very weak of me." Shepard said.
Kelly pulled back slightly and with a gentle hand, raised Shepard's face so that their eyes would meet.
"Shepard," she began, her voice quivering with severity, "there is no weakness in what you have done. I would say you are stronger than anyone I have ever met. Anybody else would have broken under the strain. To shed a few tears, to share with friends is not weakness, but a necessity. I am only upset with myself. I should have reached out to you sooner. No one considered the strain death and rebirth would have on someone who has already faced so much."
Shepard could not see it, but the red lines that spread across her face had slightly dimmed, their fury lessened with the cooling breeze of another's kindness. She had needed this release and of all those she had met, only Kelly, flirtatious and as sometimes ditzy as she might seem to some, would be the one to open her ears to hear.
"You deserve someone to love you," Kelly began again, her voice now a low whisper, "you owe it to yourself to go to Liara, you owe it to her to let your feelings be plain."
"How? She shuts down my every pathway into asking about her. It was even as if holding me in her arms was too much. No messages from her either. Nothing."
"She is scared, Shepard. Probably of many of the same things you are. What if she wonders if you have changed? What if her heart stings with jealousy as she imagines you moving on? You will never know the answers to questions you never ask. With a war like this, there is no room for leaving things to interpretation."
"And what if she turns me away? What if she no longer feels the way the way I do? My love for her is a fresh as it ever was. It feels like I held her in my arms only but a few months ago."
Kelly let the words sink into her head. It was almost as if the very idea of Shepard being rejected was incomprehensible.
"If she turns you away?" Kelly began, "Then that is her loss. A woman like you wouldn't stay on the market for long."
Shepard managed a laugh.
"Maybe I'd throw up an ad on the extranet. Single asian female looking for love. Likes assault rifles, biotic warps, and walks on the bridge." Shepard said.
"Oh, I don't know if you'd have to go that far." Kelly said with a sly smile.
"Don't tell me, there are secret admirers aboard ship?"
Kelly looked coy now, her head swaying as if secrets were swirling about in her head.
"Maybe a few. Some wouldn't be to your taste."
"That depends on what they taste like, I guess."
"Now there's a thought. A very naughty one." Kelly took her hand and ran it through Shepard's hair, her fingers gliding through its tangles.
"The end has almost come hasn't it?" Shepard said, "Only a dead Reaper and its IFF stands between us and the Collectors."
"All the more reason to act soon. The Reaper is not going anywhere, but you need your heart and mind to be focused when the time comes. Wondering about what could have been will only make what is ahead of us that much harder."
"I will see Liara then. We will go to Illium one last time."
Minutes passed as the two women remained wrapped in one another's arms. Kelly was still gently massaging Shepard's head; her own eyes closed now and sleep slowly coming over her.
"It's late." Shepard said.
"I haven't been up this many hours for a long time." Kelly responded through a yawn.
"Kelly?"
"Yes, Shepard."
"Will you stay with me tonight?"
"Of course. Of course I will."
Unwrapping herself from Kelly, Shepard shambled towards her bed and then promptly fell onto the covers, a slight rebound felt at her impact. Closing her eyes, she found her mind almost immediately being drawn into the embrace of sleep. The sensation of another's body curling against her own only sped her transition into the theater of dreams. With the last of her strength, she turned and buried her head in the chest of the sweet smelling person near her. Kelly pulled her close, planting a single, lingering kiss on her forehead. They spoke no words, only soft breathing could be heard now, a soothing wind between them. The two women, their labors completed, bodies worn and minds weary, now let another day die, its trials and tribulations passing now into the realm of memory.