Chapter 2: Be Not Afraid

Cruiser PFS Ruin Wake, 10.30.2186

Chertyl opened her eyes groggily to the pulsing lights of her diurnal alarm. Dismissing it with a wave of her hand, she felt briefly disoriented, observing the interior of her little cabin from the perspective of the bottom bunk, which was little more than a pit below floor level where she'd set up bedding for her guest, clearing away a footlocker and a spare hazard suit to make enough space for the human to rest comfortably. She had hung her omni-tool interface along a beam supporting the top bunk above her head, and a quick glance at the time indicated she had another hour before the duty roster had her scheduled on the ops deck. Satisfied that she had time to spare, she turned her attention to the bandaged head leaning against her chest.

The human had slept for nearly the past day by her estimate, missing her emotional breakdown at learning his identity and subsequent anxiety at anticipating his reaction to seeing her again, that is if he recognized her at all. Chertyl decided it was no use worrying about it now, and was content to simply continue holding him against her, lost in the deep rhythm of his snoozy breathing.

She enjoyed this state for a few more minutes until the human began to stir. His breathing quickened, inhaling sharply as he turned his head in disorientation, hands exploring their surroundings until they found hers. Trying to pull himself to a seated position, he bumped his head against the top bunk before Chertyl could stop him. He collapsed back onto her chest with a grunt.

"Easy, Victor. Easy." She rubbed his forehead gently where he'd struck it.

"Doc? Is that you? What's the deal? Why can't I see?"

The man gingerly touched a couple of fingers to the bandage wrapped around his eyes.

Chertyl pushed his hands back down. She wondered briefly how her voice could be mistaken for that of the Medical Director with his fairly unique accent, but recalled that Marthel had been the last person the pilot had seen. Chertyl figured the human's bewildered state at awakening in her arms was understandable, though she found it mildly amusing that he would call for him by the human honorific for a medical practitioner. Grasping Victor securely to calm him, she responded in a humored tone,

"I'm not the Doc, no. But the Medical Director says your sight will be fine in another day, as long as you let your eyes heal under that bandage. My name is Lieutenant Commander Chertyl Korvaris, and I've been assigned to bunk you in my cabin until we reach friendly space."

The human stopped fidgeting and settled down, though his head still pivoted about as if trying to locate the source of her voice.

"Where am I?" he asked.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious of their intimate proximity, she fumbled for an explanation that would place him squarely in her lap.

"On my bottom bunk uh… on my lap. You err… kept trying to sleepwalk all night, so I decided to just sit here and keep you secured until you woke."

She mentally pounded her head against a bulkhead. Spirits, I'm so shit at this. A bulge in her pocket saved her pride before he could muster a response to this absurdity, and she pulled out the bandage provided by Marthel.

"Also I was told to change your bandage after you woke up. But, ah… I don't want to hurt you accidentally, so here. Take this."

She took his hand and placed the rolled fabric in his palm. He felt around it for a free edge before speaking up.

"Oh… well thank you for that, I guess. I'm Major Victor Sandage, or just Vic if you prefer."

"Well good morning, Vic." He couldn't see it, but her faceplates were parted in a kindhearted smile.

The human grasped the fresh bandage, and began to unfurl the one around his head with his free hand. Chertyl assisted him when it appeared helpful, and grew somewhat nervous at the thought of him reacting at the sight of her once the bandage was off. As he finished unwinding the old bandage, she took the edge of the new one and held it over his eyes, guiding it down as soon as the used one was removed. As he wound it back around, she adjusted it to wrap flush with itself and fit comfortably.

"Thanks for the hand Miss Korvaris. I never got an answer from the doc about this, but did anyone else make it? I know Redline Bandit went down over the ice cap, but I'd hoped at least a few others might have found harbor after she went down rather than eject into atmosphere and take their chances on the surface."

Chertyl took her omni-tool and scrolled through the logs.

"Nine others, two from your carrier and the rest from another vessel."

The human pondered this for a moment. "What happens now?" he asked with trepidation.

"It's five days until we make port at an Alliance station near the Citadel, but until then our FTL communications are staying silent and we'll be out of contact. Listen, I have to report soon to my station, would you prefer to stay here or should I take you to the lounge in the Commons? It's another ten hours until I'm off, but you might find someone with more answers there."

"The latter. I'd rather not be stuck inside my head all day."

"I wouldn't either Vic. Alright then. Up we go."

Chertyl helped lift the human out of the bunk pit, wrapping an arm around his to support his gait. The two walked in this manner toward the observation lounge- a large room across the galley offering a breathtaking view of the Apien Crest's nebulae, at least for those without heavy gauze obscuring their eyes. Most passersby seemed to pay little heed as the two walked along, except for a young petty officer in Chertyl's section, who held the hatch open as they approached, suppressing a smirk.

"Ever the mama bear, eh ma'am?"

The Lieutenant Commander bristled slightly.

"Shut up."

Victor seemed intrigued.

"You have bears back home?"

"No. But that one is fond of human idioms. I admit that some are quite versatile."

Chertyl sat the human down on a chair designed for someone much larger than him, a fact which could only reinforce an observer's perception of her matronly manner in handling him. Though she was not keen on the petty officer's tease, she had to admit to herself that this human certainly awakened some of her more dormant instincts, including a peculiar protectiveness. Glancing around subconsciously to ensure they were alone, she knelt beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I have to go now, but you'll have plenty of company by the time the mess opens. If I find the other humans, I'll let them know you're in here as well. Try to relax, and I'll come find you once my shift is through."

With a squeeze of his shoulder, she strode off back down the hall towards a lift to the first deck, already beginning to worry about leaving him alone. Perhaps there was more truth to the tease than she cared to admit.


"-so I finally just give up and secure the rubber duck, and hope that'll be the end of it. But nope- now he's my rack-mate I'm told, and it would behoove me to ensure that Cadet Ducky keeps his living space groomed to a military standard. So now I'm maintaining two sets of lockers, and he's given seniority to me for some reason, so this duck kicks me out of the top rack and has to be assigned a spot on the firewatch rotation, which naturally I have to perform. The rest of my time there I had to quack for him whenever a roll call was ordered after saying my own name. It became so ingrained I actually did it once at a formal ceremony soon after I arrived at my first duty station."

Although Vic couldn't see his reaction, the sound of the turian trooper's lilting snickers informed him that she found his tale quite amusing. While the practice of sharing stories related to training (particularly basic) was considered a folly of the inexperienced amongst Alliance ranks, he had come to find late in his career that turian colleagues seemed to find them most entertaining, as they took great amusement in the absurdist shenanigans common to many humans' initial experience- the result of a curriculum designed primarily to instill adherence to protocol and break down a mindset of civilian expectations.

Hailing from a highly martial society, recruits entering the turian equivalent faced an initiation that far fewer found humor in recalling, from his conversations over the years. This particular one had started with the trooper mentioning her envy of the student aviators assigned to her first base on Palaven, until the day came her unit was charged with hunting them down through harsh terrain as part of their evasion training, with orders to shoot them on sight with very painful but nonlethal rounds. After pelleting a few unfortunate pilots making a run for it or simply pleading for mercy on the spot, she finally figured being a ground-pounder wasn't such a bad gig after all.

Victor heard approaching footfalls and sensed his audience stiffen at attention.

"Evening, ma'am."

"Evening, Sergeant. I see you've met one of our distinguished Alliance guests. Don't let me interrupt you if you're in the middle of an awesome story there, Victor"

The human perked up, turning his head roughly in the direction of Chertyl's voice.

"Oh by no means ma'am. The stories I've been telling Vale here have been for giggles, but the one's she's told me are going to keep me up at night."

The trooper chuckled at that.

"Too much humility, this one. I can tell he's been around the block, even if it's hard to get him to talk about it. It's been fun, Major. I've got some rounds to make now- yes, literally. On the sintering press. Be seeing you both."

As she turned to leave, Vic called after her.

"Remind me never to play hide-and-seek with you, Sergeant."

"Aww, I'll be gentle." Vale replied with a wink and pair of finger guns as she disappeared out the hatch. Chertyl caught this and smiled, quietly warning the human in mock seriousness.

"You can't trust those operators Vic. I hear they get a real kick out of hunting downed pilots."

He laughed- a little nervously- at this advice. Victor heard his host ask if he was ready to head back to the cabin, mentioning that most crew cleared out of this deck when the ship's day cycle wound to a close. He wasn't terribly tired, but figured since she was just coming off her watch, he wouldn't keep her from turning in for the evening. He let her take him by the arm once again and lead him through the hallways, feeling a small pang of shame at requiring such basic assistance. He disliked the feeling of helplessness caused by his blindness, and was itching to remove the bandage by morning and put a face to the voices that had engaged and comforted him these past crazy days. As they entered a lift, Victor heard the turian woman ask how he was feeling.

"Pretty good, all things considered. I'll be even better once this thing comes off," he admitted, raising an arm to prod the bandage. In the act of doing so he detected a hint of his own body odor, and realized he hadn't bathed in nearly three days.

"I'd kill for a bath, too."

The lift jerked to a halt from its journey upward, and the pilot felt his stomach drop as they began to proceed back down.

"These cruisers have no baths, Victor. But there are a number of hygienic facilities you may find helpful."

The human wondered if he should have mentioned it. He asked tentatively if soaking his bandage would be a problem, a concern Chertyl dismissed by assuring him the outer surface was hydrophobic.

A long descent and a winding walk through Engineering later, Victor felt a damp, cool breeze brush past him as Chertyl opened a hatch ahead of them. A short walk inside brought him to a bench, where his host seated him. She commented on the silence that permeated the damp atmosphere.

"Looks like we have it all to ourselves for the moment."

He heard Chertyl open a compartment along the wall with a metallic click, soon accompanied by the sounds of garments unclasping and fluttering to the floor. Victor's face flushed at the realization that the alien hands that proceeded to hunt along his chest to find the zipper pull of his flight suit belonged to a very naked turian. For her part, Chertyl continued to make idle conversation, oblivious to the flustered human's unease.

"Our showers probably won't seem too unfamiliar to you, with a couple of exceptions. One, turians prefer a dense, pressurized mist over streams of water, and our preferred temperatures might be a little hot for human skin. You just tell me if anything feels uncomfortable."

Despite his awkward feelings at being stripped of his clothes before an alien audience, Victor had to admit to himself that he wasn't in much of a position to figure this place out blindly, and the promise of a hot-but-hopefully-not-scalding steam bath really sounded like it might hit the spot right now. He relinquished his boots, suit and skivvies to the turian, crossing his arms to ward off the chill as he stood nude and impatient.

Hearing the storage compartment click shut, he felt Chertyl's hand take his and lead him down another hall, their footfalls splashing through the puddles pooled about on the heated floor as they made their way into a secluded booth at the end of the room. The sound of a sliding door sealing shut resonated through the now-airtight compartment, and he sensed the turian activating a console upon the wall as a series of soft beeps were followed by the popping of his ears as the atmosphere compressed around them.

The abrupt hiss of warm steam flooding around their ankles nearly made Victor jump out of his skin. He felt a leathery palm on his shoulder, his host reassuring him quietly,

"Hey, relax. Not too hot right?"

The blooming steam was quite warm but not uncomfortably so as it filled the room, crawling up his body. The sensation of the heated vapor enveloping him felt positively divine. True to form, Victor communicated his thoughts through understatement.

"This is fine."

The psychological benefits of hot meals and showers were among the most profound known to any human military (followed closely by dry socks and the availability of postal service). As the pilot felt his disposition brighten, he felt a renewed sense of gratitude towards the one who had taken him under her wing. From his conversations throughout the day in and around the lounge, the Lieutenant Commander was seen as a dependable officer, and often mentored Comms crews in their first deployments.

On the other hand, Sergeant Vale had expressed surprise when he told her where he was bunked, having figured Chertyl as the socially secluded type outside of her work. Vale had told him Chertyl had eschewed the convenience and breathing space afforded to her by the quarters of the command deck in favor of a more private- but comparatively cramped- cabin far aft of her station. Rubbing his shoulder idly, Victor felt the humidity begin to saturate his skin and work open the pores, the sounds of steam being injected into the compartment gradually fading into a whisper, allowing him to express the words he'd been mulling over.

"Listen, Chertyl I… I got to talk earlier today with a couple of crew who'd just gotten out of the med ward, and they were telling me how much they hated feeling useless during recovery. I have to admit I feel the same way. I've always tried not to make a crutch out of those around me even when times are tough, and I'm sorry if I've been a burden. I can promise I'll make myself useful once this blindfold comes off, you just let me know what you need."

He felt a cool, gooey tendril fall onto his opposite shoulder, accompanied by a sweet odor somewhere between cucumbers and marzipan. The pads of Chertyl's sinewy fingers traced around the pliant musculature of his upper back, carefully circumnavigating the scars and burn ridges etched into his flesh from Reaper and turian alike. Yielding to her touch, he felt her face close to his as she spoke firmly,

"I'll have something you can help me with tomorrow. But let's get one thing clear. Nobody on this ship sees you as useless, Victor- no more than anyone else here who lost their home and got stuck with us for the time being. You know, if anything many of them see you as guests of honor, knowing that your fleet in the Apien was called to defend Palaven even after the news broke that your own world was hit. And even if you were injured too badly to be cleared for anything, I like to think I'd still take care of you. Spirits know I've spent enough of my life bringing pain on others, or at least I thought so until the Reapers showed up. So cheer up, I don't see you as a burden at all. Now turn around and hold this."

Victor did as instructed, facing about and taking the bottle of herbaceous soap as more of the sweet substance was spread onto his neck and chest. Unlike the varieties he was accustomed to, this soap felt as if it were infused with a mild but soluble abrasive, the gentle friction of the scrub against Chertyl's hands turning to a slick rub as she worked it in, unwinding his knotted muscles and leaving his skin supple. He felt around the neck of the bottle for the opening as she moved to his waist and rear. The feeling was exquisite- and it would be criminal not to reciprocate her efforts, he mused, blindness be damned.

Pouring an aliquot of soap onto his free hand, he lifted it hesitantly to where he figured Chertyl's shoulder might be, his fingers finding purchase on her breastplate instead. A gasp escaped her maw, leaving Victor feeling a bit lewd as he explored the soft flesh between her plates with a fragrant slathered hand.

"You don't have to return every favor, big guy." Chertyl said in a husky tone. She took the bottle from him, but allowed Victor to continue massaging her.

"Yeah but… maybe it's the least I can do." His other hand now liberated, he applied himself to massaging around the bowl-like rim of her carapace, gliding his hands around the base of her neck and marveling at the texture of the smoothly segmented dermal plates trailing up her spine. By now Chertyl had begun to kneel, her powerful hands running down the flanks of his thighs. Soon kneading her way down along the adductors of his right leg, Victor shuddered involuntarily at her electrifying touch. Merely brushing against his manhood briefly was enough to make him feel unsteady at the knees. His hands caressed her faceplate at last, and being careful that his hands weren't soapy, he began to trace the ridges of her faceplates. He found the leathery fold of her eyelids, and with the gentlest touch tracked his thumbs around them, her eyes closing as he did so. She sighed contentedly, the puff of her breath tickling him rather erotically as his hands traced a path down each mandible.

His hands stopped abruptly at their base. In one palm the sensation of sleek metal interrupted his movement, and as his fingers slowly clasped around her left mandible he realized how much shorter it was than the felt her mandibles twitch in his hands and he released them as if electrified. He stepped out of the alien's grasp and slowly backed up towards the wall, his mind suddenly acutely aware of how little space there was in this booth. His breath caught, a single word finding its way out of his gasping mouth.

"You…"

His mind struggled to reconcile the kindness shown to him with the horrifying memories of this domineering alien woman in his pre-cryogenic life, memories that until now he could almost dismiss as another recurrent nightmare. But although his memories of the days leading up to being put on ice were a muddled haze, the scars crossing his body from the beds of his nails to the faint crook of his nose could bear testament to the hell he had undergone better than any words. The memories flashed before his mind once again, overpowering him in a very physical sense as he slumped numbly down the damp wall. He heard the turian step falteringly towards him and he reflexively raised his arms in defense, the occluding darkness of his blindfold amplifying the sense of despair that washed over him.

For a brief but terrifying moment, he imagined that the events of the past days were but a dream, and he was about to wake up to the sight of that godforsaken brig, ready to begin another interrogation.

Torn back to the present, the pilot felt his hands slowly clasped gently by the bare talons of the turian woman. He sensed her crouch in front of him, and could almost see her in that black uniform again, raising an instrument to his neck-

"It's okay… It's okay Vic. Nobody's going to hurt you anymore." He heard her voice choke, a sorrowful trill breaking the harmonics of her voice as she regained her breath. Chertyl's arms pulled him slowly into a compassionate embrace, her hands meeting less and less resistance from his tensed form as she cradled the human, her voice falling to a tender whisper.

"No one will hurt you anymore, my dear. No one. I'll tear through anyone that tries."

Victor slowly returned the embrace, his mind beginning to return fully to the comforting benevolence of his present. Hot tears welled in his eyes, wicked away into the bandage, and for the next minute he simply wept as his emotions washed over him, his companion holding him tightly and stroking his head, no longer placing her affections behind demands for his confession. The human felt nearly weightless in the warm mist, fatigued equally by the effort of breathing the dense vapor as he was by his emotional upheaval. He noticed no pain as he blinked the last of his tears away, and with one thumb he cautiously raised the bottom edge of the gauze until he could see. Confident that his recovery was complete, he pulled it off entirely and let it fall from his fingers.

Chertyl raised her head from its place nestled against his neck, and Victor caught her eyes for the first time since that awful day in captivity- the day he first wondered if turians could cry. He saw the answer glistening around the sky-tinted irises peering back at him without any trace of malice. Her mandibles flared as his gaze lingered, and he watched as she took her hands and cupped them around his cheeks. Chertyl touched his forehead to hers and she whispered mournfully,

"I'm so sorry Vic. I was young and full of fire; so naive and needy for a chance to prove myself. But spirits how it broke my heart to see what they did- what I did- to you. Barely anyone remembers that fight anymore. Hell, most of our crew today were barely born when it happened, few of them can even remember a time when humans weren't our ally. I've lived most of my life now believing I'd been an accomplice in killing you, something for which I could never forgive myself."

She pulled back to look him in the eyes once more.

"But to have found you, and to not have my last memory of you be a rag of your blood and tears in my pocket… it frees my spirit from a long-locked cage. You said you felt like a burden on me, but you can't imagine the burden you lift from me merely by being in my arms. I'll never hurt you again, Victor."

She squeezed him in a bear hug once more, nuzzling his forehead with hers for another minute before a faint grin returned to her face.

"But that doesn't mean the Medical Director won't once he finds out you took that off prematurely."

Disarmed by her humor, Victor cracked a smile of his own as he collected the bandage from the floor and slowly stood up from the corner with her help.

"Please don't tell him, I've seen what he can do with those scalpels."

The two soon finished showering and dried themselves in an antechamber built for the purpose before dressing and beginning the long walk back to Chertyl's cabin, just as a squad of crew shuffled past on their way to wash up. Chertyl broke the silence as they strode through the dim hallways of Engineering.

"Knowing how fastidious the Director can be, it wouldn't surprise me if you'd have been fine taking that bandage off when you woke up."

Mustering his most innocent look possible, Victor gave his reply as they entered a waiting lift.

"Perhaps, but then I might not have gotten the greatest steamy rubdown this side of Omega."

As the lift ascended, he felt a turian hand slink against his, clutching and squeezing his palm lightly. He looked up to see a foxy smirk cross Chertyl's face.

"I've got a good feeling about you, Vic. Do a good job for me tomorrow and I'll make sure it's not the last."