Chapter 7: Loneliness

The Normandy's armory was usually a quiet place. The only time it became really lively, was prior to deployment. Jacob would help, whoever was to be deployed, to gear up, suit up and out the door. The rest of the time, the only thing you could hear was the sound of Jacob's pacing or the clicking of gears as he worked on weapon maintenance. On occasion, between downtime, he would work out. Sometimes, he would work out just to get his mind off things. Like today. He hadn't thought of Miranda in a while. He had been avoiding to do so. He found her to be too distant and cold towards him, towards everyone, to be exact, but she had opened up. He couldn't quite place the change, maybe it was the friend, maybe it was Shepard, maybe she was thinking of him. It wasn't like her to tease Jacob and act all playful. He'd have to wait and see, but the answer couldn't come too soon. He took a break from his push-ups, paced around for a while. His head wasn't getting any clearer. A hundred more, he told himself and dived back to it.

One level bellow the armory were the quarters of former Cerberus operative, Miranda Lawson. She had removed the uniform she had been wearing and laid in bed in nothing more than her lingerie. She shifted and turned, but couldn't get comfortable. A very small thought had entered her head; what if I fail? It had been a while since she was put in charge of anything. Six months ago, with the completion of the Lazarus project, she relinquished control to Shepard. While at first she was uneasy to trust someone who was, basically, dead to carry her through a series of dangerous missions and what was, without a doubt, a true suicide run, right through the center of the galaxy, in the most dangerous military installation for millions of light years around, but he passed with flying colors. How could she compare? How could she cope? When the expectations are so high and so much is at stake, how can you fail? Perfection was demanded and Miranda Lawson knew that there was no such thing.

The Normandy's cockpit was probably the liveliest place in the ship and it had been so for a while. Ever since EDI had helped Joker save the ship from a Collector invasion, the two of them had warmed up to each other, though Joker more so. Their usual conversation topic? Normandy gossip and movies.

So you're saying that Vael'Nita was a much better love interest than matriarch Sinezia, Joker summarized.

I'd have to say yes, EDI chimed.

What? Vael'Nita had no presence. She was just ... the mask. See, this is the problem when you cast a Quarian for a romantic interest. And she was nowhere near Balsto's league. They tried to make her this mysterious femme fatale and totally blew it. She couldn't impose herself over a bowl of souffle, he explained.

And that makes Sinezia the better choice? They made her half krogan so she could be a believable co-star next to Blasto, but that completely cancels out anything feminine about her character. Not to mention that, as a matriarch, she has no place going on an adventure. It's too late in her life cycle, the AI defended its opinion.

Fine, whatever, the pilot dismissed with a sigh. So, best villain in a Blasto movie.

Oh, definitely the krogan warlord, Rugal. He was so believable and complex. Especially for a krogan, EDI justified her preference.

Yes! I know, right? Its like, in every movie they throw out this token krogan as the bad guy and never explain his motives or develop his character, because he's a krogan and, yeah, he is menacing, but Rugal? Joker whistled. Wow! Whole new ball game.

However, a quick extranet search indicates that most Blasto fans consider Kalen Tiverius to be a better villain than Rugal.

Yeah, I kinda see it, but not really. I mean, Tiverius was a really smart guy, but he didn't have the imposing presence of Rugal and he didn't stand a chance against Blasto in a fight. You could tell the moment you saw him and they did nothing throughout the film to change that. It's just wasted potential, you know?

A few levels below, near engineering, Urdnot Grunt was preparing himself mentally for his first fight without his krant by his side. In spite of having fought many times before with the people he was with on this very ship, one stabilizing factor was missing. Shepard. Together they had fought, tooth, nail and headplate against anything this galaxy had to throw at them and they always came out on top. This time would be different. Should he lead? Should he follow? The squishy brunette woman showed confidence in her skills, but she didn't command that from him. Why shouldn't Grunt lead? He had taken down a thresher maw on foot, a feat not seen since the young days of Urdnot Wrex, now leader of every living krogan on Tuchanka. He would follow, for now, but if push came to shove, he would demonstrate what being krogan meant, tankbred or not. A smile formed on Grunt's face, amusing the thought.

Zaeed Massani was hard at work. Jessie, his favorite old banged up avenger rifle had been sitting, collecting dust for far too long. Some time ago he had ordered a great deal of parts to make it work again. It wasn't easy tracking them down and it wasn't cheap either. Part after part, though, Jessie seemed to be coming together, alive once more. Pleased with his work, Zaeed cracked a smile. Placing the final piece, Jessie was ready to kill once again. He could hear her accelerated barrel whir, waiting for that sweet thermal clip to be inserted. Not yet, you thirsty bitch. Tomorrow. Tomorrow you'll drink so much, you'll fucking drown.

Her back hunched against the wall, her legs outstretched, Tali looked around at the people around her. She didn't mind the people that didn't look at her. She was far more content with them, than the ones that stared. She remembered and hated the stares. Like she was an impoverished drifter, carrying disease wherever she went and bringing nothing but misery. Shepard had changed all that. He had given her a home, found her a gift to bring back for her pilgrimage, took her on an adventure and even cleared her name. Between her people in the flotilla and the crew, everyone was family. Outside the Normandy, left alone on the Citadel, Tali felt lost. She looked behind her and to her right. Legion stood there, stoically, hooked up on a terminal, silent. You're no help at all, Tali muttered to herself.

It had been a while since Legion had contacted the rest of the Geth collective. Running through millions of programs, interfacing with the thousands of public access terminals the citadel provided, the Geth had never been this detached. He waited for a voice, an echo, a remote runtime to interface with. It was as if he stared down the darkness of space and he saw not a single star shining back. Legion tried to find a definition for it, but could not reach a consensus.

On the railings above, a drell assassin of no small renown was having to babysit a partly incapacitated quarian and a machine he was not particularly well acquainted with. He had more important things to look out for when he was on the Citadel, but the two he was charged to protect, were imperative to his mission. Things were quiet for now. The last C-Sec officer that tried to shoo Tali away, had been led on a little bread crumb trail over a lost credit card chit. It would take her about 24 hours, Thane calculated, if she was smart enough. There were so many things he needed to do, so very little time left to do it in. Time was precious, too precious to spend it alone. Like he had done earlier that day cycle, in the briefing room, he brought back in his mind's eye the memories of the times he'd spent with his son. Wherever he was, Thane would never be alone.

Not too far away, but hidden even to Thane, Kasumi was playing with a greybox. Keiji's greybox. Containing every bit of memory he ever had, Kasumi would frequently get lost in it. She could watch, but never relive the memory. The scent, the feel, the beating of her heart, it was all gone in the reproduction. All it ever would be, was a photograph of a memory of something that died long ago. Kasumi Goto was one of the best thieves the galaxy had ever seen. There was one thing, though, that she could never steal; her heart back.

The quirky mind of Mordin Solus had found solace in the thought that commander Shepard appreciated him more as a scientific mind, than a field soldier. He felt honoured to work on Shepard's defense. In spite of being trained for the STG, a salarian spec-ops squad, similar to the human equivalent of the N7 program, Mordin was far more keen on exercising his mind, rather than the fine art of killing. It was a fun distraction, of course, helped quite a few times to keep the blood flowing, so long as it wasn't his, he had mused more than once. Not everyone shared his sense of humour, though. Note to self, he thought out loud, keep jokes to minimum.

All the meditating of her life couldn't help Samara. She had tried, but something kept her uneasy. Maybe it had to do with mind melding with Jack, or how she had tried to attack her. Of course it did, she reasoned, but why? The question returned. What did that violent woman do to her? What spark had it fueled to a fire that she couldn't put out? She had spent the better part of her time, since leaving both Garrus and Jack, wandering the citadel. When she woke up from her daydream, she found herself in front of a terminal. Hello? a voice came from it. She hadn't realized how she had done it, but somehow, she had contacted someone. She tried to speak, but she had trouble letting the words out. Hello? said the voice again.

Falere? she choked.

Mom? the voice replied.

Walking the streets of Bachjret ward wasn't something Garrus Vakarian was used to. Not even during his C-Sec days did he come here. He would most usually be found either in lower Tayseri or Kithoi, stalking dark alleys for information. Still, it was a welcome change. He hoped that one day he would walk these streets and not have to wonder about the filth and corruption that swarmed beneath his feet, hid in the shadows, lurked in the back alleys. First, however, he would have to make sure that there would be a Citadel to walk in. With a reaper invasion looming ahead, he had to make sure that one man would be there to greet them when they came. Garrus knew he couldn't fail, what he didn't know, was how to succeed.

It wouldn't be the first time Jack would drink herself to sleep. With the man she was involved, she doubted it would be the last. Granted, of course, that she was Jack, this was something more akin to business as usual, rather than the exception to the rule. She had taken her boots off, a pair of black socks resting on them, and curled on Anderson's bed. She had procured a bottle of ryncol with her to bed this time. She needed something that packed a punch. She needed to feel numb. So far, it wasn't working. She had put her glasses on, to hide the mascara running down her eyes. That wasn't working either. Dumbass, she slurred, taking another gulp.

She took the dark vest she wore, off her and threw it away from the bed. She was pissed and unsettled. When alcohol or drugs failed to cheer her up, there were two things left she could try to fix her mood. However, since killing people was still considered widely illegal, she settled to give the other thing a go. She turned her omni-tool on and fiddled with it for a bit. It wasn't long before a video started playing on the monitor across from Anderson's bed. Shepard's specter inauguration. The last time she tried to watch it, she lasted all of twelve seconds before deciding it was a bad idea, but for some reason she didn't care now. She wanted to see him, without having to face him. Dumbass, she huffed. She put the bottle by the side of the bed. Her hands started going through the upper part of her body, rubbing it roughly. She felt one of her hands moving lower, finding its way under the fabric of her jeans and resting on the soft, wet flesh that hid underneath. Her twitching fingers caused jolts to go through her, her other hand tugging at the sheets while she gasped for breath. Sh-shep-ha-ard, his name escaped her lips as she climaxed. Feeling relieved, she laid herself back and turned to the side. Within a minute, dizzy from pleasure and alcohol, she drifted off to sleep.

In the darkness of a C-Sec cell, Shepard was having trouble getting comfortable. Truth was, as hardened as he was, he had grown accustomed to the soft bed, the sheets, the tranquility his aquarium prov-

My fish! Shepard jumped. Oh, that's right. Kelly's still in the ship, he heaved a sigh. Never been so happy I bought someone dinner.

He turned around on his cot and now assured that his fish were going to be fine, Shepard fell asleep.