Invictus
III: Decima
"You have altered the variables."
A voice echoed around her in the undulating darkness. She squinted, trying to make sense of the dark shapes that flowed around her.
"There will still be losses, but no more than what has already been lost."
She wheeled around. That voice...
"You have altered the variables."
Explosions blossomed above her, illuminating distant ships against a backdrop of stars as they were blown into oblivion. She tried to open her mouth to speak — to say anything — to scream, but not a sound left her throat.
"There will still be losses, but no more than what has already been lost."
An invisible force had its fingers wrapped around her throat, it was constricting her chest, paralyzing her mind — she couldn't tear her eyes from the destruction above her, and there was nothing she could do — she couldn't even move her body —
"Your time is at an end. You must decide."
People are going to die. She is going to die.
"You must decide."
Eyes fluttered open.
Her heart was pounding. Fear gripped her heart in a way that was entirely new to her: it was as though an iron vice had clamped itself over her chest as her heart and lungs tried desperately to break free. She felt as though she was spiraling out of control—there was nothing she could do to escape these feelings, nothing she could do to keep from suffocating.
Panic began welling up within her. People were going to die. She was going to die.
She was going to die.
She is going to die.
"Shepard? Shepard!"
The sound of Liara's voice shot through the chaos in Shepard's mind. Using that as an anchor—the voice of a friend, the voice of someone alive and there—Shepard slowly reeled herself in as the fear loosened its grip on her heart. She blinked, struggling to make sense of what she was seeing, before finally she realized that Liara was standing over her with a hand on her shoulder, gently but urgently trying to shake her back into reality.
"What—I— Liara," Shepard sputtered.
"Shepard, what's wrong? What hurts?"
"N-nothing," said Shepard. She breathed in and exhaled slowly as the fear finally receded. "I'm—I'm okay. It was just...it was just a nightmare."
"I see. About—the Reapers?" Liara asked softly as she sank back into her chair.
"Yeah."
An uneasy silence fell upon them. Liara had a distant but knowing look on her face; it was likely that everyone in the galaxy had nightmares about the Reapers at some point.
"It's okay, I'm fine now," said Shepard with a small smile, anxious to fill the silence before it became too overpowering. Liara seemed reassured by Shepard's words, her body visibly relaxing even as she straightened up in her chair.
"The doctors want to see you on your feet today if you're feeling up to it," said Liara, peering at a note on her omni-tool. "I suspect the hospital director is getting anxious about the fact that half a ward has been locked down for nearly a week."
Shepard raised her eyebrows. "Half a ward?" she said incredulously.
Half a ward...Half a ward in Huerta Memorial. That half a ward was tied up for a week just for her...it felt wrong somehow. Her mind raced—she'd already been brought back from the dead once, which exactly once more than most people got, so what right did she have to all of...this?
Immediately, compelled by a sense of duty with perhaps a smidgen of embarrassment sprinkled on top, she felt the need to get out of bed whether or not her body was ready for it. Which, when she gave it a moment's thought, it felt like it was. Yesterday she had felt groggy, likely due to the effects of sedation, but today she felt much closer to normal.
Get up, soldier, Shepard told herself, gritting her teeth and pushing herself upright.
"Shepard, don't get up so fast—"
It seemed as though every muscle in her body protested at the sudden movement, but it was not any pain she hadn't felt before and wasn't anything she couldn't handle. And before Liara could get another word out, Shepard swung her legs out from under the sheets, exhaling in relief as she flexed her muscles back into life. She first worked her legs, relishing the feeling of circulation being restored, and then stretched her back, letting out a tiny groan as her back let out a series of small but immensely satisfying cracks. It certainly felt as though she hadn't moved in ages—not in twenty-seven years, she supposed. At least not under her own steam, anyways. She was quite pleased (and quite relieved) that her body felt to be in order, and was extra pleased that she hadn't recklessly attempted to move with, say, a broken femur. Or two.
"How do you feel?" said Liara, looking to her with a mixture of interest and worry.
"Not as shitty as I expected," said Shepard with a small chuckle. "I want to stand up now."
"Shepard—wait—!" Liara started, leaping to her feet as Shepard pushed herself off the edge of the bed.
Immediately her right knee buckled and, had Liara not been there to catch her, she would have found herself having an intimate moment with the floor. "Shepard, you don't need to push yourself so hard," Liara said, concern plastered all over her face as she pulled Shepard upright.
"I'm okay, I'm okay," said Shepard quickly as her brain finally remembered which muscles were involved in the act of standing. It felt good to be upright again, pain and all.
"I suppose it was good that your catheter was removed," Liara said with a small chuckle.
Glad I didn't get piss on myself my first day up, Shepard thought wryly.
Shepard had always been a fast healer—she came back from the dead twice now, after all—so it only took a few trips to the far wall and back to get back into the groove of walking. At first, Liara had hovered anxiously at her side, ready to catch her in case her legs decided enough was enough, but eventually she stood aside with a small smile on her face.
"Look at you go, Shepard," she laughed as Shepard returned from her third trip to the far wall. "You'll probably be well enough to just run away from the hospital by the time the doctors arrive."
They shared a laugh as Shepard sat at the edge of her bed to take a rest. This felt nice: life was simple right now in her hospital room, and would be significantly less nice once she was deemed well enough to leave it. But she didn't want to think of it right now. She had been so bereft of good feelings before—well, before she had activated the Crucible—that she wanted to hang on to them as long as possible in case some new galactic crisis reared its ugly head.
It was some time, or at least it felt like it, before a nurse arrived to check on her. By then, they had fallen into light chitchat about the state of the Citadel and the Council (and to no surprise, the politicking was alive and well). Evidently the Council had been expanded to include all the major races involved in the Reaper War, and the political drama had, of course, increased with it. She could only imagine how Council meetings went with an elcor Councilor now in attendance.
The pair looked to the door when they heard a knock. "Well, looks like you've already gotten a head start on walking, Ad—Commander," said the asari nurse when she entered the room. "My name is Narra. How do you feel?"
"Stiff and a little weak, but I can walk all right. No pain or anything," Shepard said. Narra nodded and made a note of it on her omni-tool.
"Very good. The doctors have reviewed everything and say you can be discharged tomorrow if you're up and about," she said with a smile. "All right, let's go ahead and see how you're doing, Commander. If you'll please stand up for me, we can get started."
A little medical drone emerged from Narra's omni-tool and obediently waited for Shepard to get to her feet. Once upright, the drone flitted about Shepard's body, making small noises every so often as it examined her. "Now, Commander, please walk to that wall and back," said Nina, gesturing to the now-familiar wall.
With each task that Narra gave Shepard, the drone followed along and gathered its data. Narra had Shepard stepping sideways, walking on her toes, walking on her heels, and walking backward; she kept expecting some sudden pain, or to find that a little muscle in her ass wasn't working right, but apart from the stiffness, everything felt perfectly fine.
"Everything looks good, Commander," Narra said when Shepard returned to the bed. "It looks like you have a bit of a limp in your right leg. It's probably related to the injuries from when—well, you know. Anyways, your back is holding up nicely, too."
"What do you mean, my 'back is holding up'?" Shepard asked curiously. It was sore, yes, and stiff, yes, but it didn't feel particularly different. Nina looked conflicted for a moment, before giving her an apologetic look.
"Dr. Plunkett should come by once he receives my report. I'm sure he'll explain everything," said Narra. With that, she took her leave.
"Shepard, do you mind if I step out for a bit?" said Liara, looking up from her omni-tool when Shepard sat herself back on the bed. "I've some—business."
"Of course. Take your time," Shepard said. A small feeling of apprehension tugged at her, but she pushed it away. Of course Liara had work to do—she couldn't...babysit Shepard forever.
"I'll be back soon," Liara said, putting a reassuring hand on Shepard's shoulder before slipping out the door.
The heavy silence in the room was almost overpowering. Shepard thought that perhaps she should try to watch the news, or find a funny movie. But she was a bit hesitant; this room was the cocoon shielding her from a world that was quite possibly entirely new to her. She would have to leave eventually, and the thought of facing all those people—and all her old friends—made it difficult to breathe. Would the reason for her non-deadness be public? Would there be outrage that she had caused so much destruction? Would she be asked to save the galaxy from some immeasurable power? To give her life? Again?
Shepard felt terror grip her heart and wrap its claws around her lungs. She clutched at her chest as she struggled to breathe, her heart pounding as she struggled to regain control. But there was no control to be had—she felt like she was spiraling—like she was going to die—
It was an eternity before the feeling finally faded. She lay on the bed, clutching her chest and breathing heavily. The faint urge to hold a rifle crossed her mind, and her fingers clenched ever so slightly.
What the hell.
When the door opened half an hour later, Shepard expected Liara or Dr. Plunkett. It was not Liara or Dr. Plunkett, and in fact was someone who seemed vaguely familiar in shape but was otherwise a stranger.
"Who are you?" Shepard asked, sitting up slightly when the stranger merely smiled and did not introduce herself.
"They said your memory was intact, Shepard. Can't believe you forgot me."
Shepard narrowed her eyes at the sound of the voice. It was so familiar...
"Tali?" she sputtered.
A familiar laugh filled the room. "So you remember me after all," Tali said, a grin on her face. "I guess it can't be helped that you were mostly dead for twenty years."
Shepard had only seen Tali's face clearly a couple of times because of the ever-present helmet, but here was her quarian friend, distinctly not dead and, most importantly, without a helmet. "Tali—your helmet," was all Shepard managed to say. Tali laughed, and Shepard was struck with how her skin seemed to move with her face: quarian skin looked thick—thicker than human skin—and was almost scale-like in texture.
"We still need the suits most of the time, but we don't get sick if we don't have a helmet on as long as it's for a short time," said Tali, smiling and taking Liara's seat. A brief silence fell between them; Shepard was overjoyed to see that Tali was alive but was having trouble finding words, and Tali seemed to be waiting for her to say something.
"I can't believe you're alive," Tali said finally, when it was clear that Shepard could not decide on which words to say.
"Yeah…"
"One of my patrols found you. I—I was the one who brought you here."
Well, that was a surprise.
"One of your patrols? Where exactly did you find me?" Shepard asked incredulously.
"In the Perseus Veil. You were in a derelict frigate, just drifting along. It was lucky that the patrol decided to investigate," Tali explained.
"What the hell was I doing in the Perseus Veil?"
"Your guess is as good as mine, Shepard. We were hoping maybe you'd have some idea, but I guess not."
She had absolutely zero idea. What in the hell was she doing in the Perseus Veil? How did she even get to the Perseus Veil when the Crucible had fired from the Local Cluster? Who, then, had taken her there?
"Th-thank you, Tali," Shepard managed to say amid the chaos in her mind. "I—I don't know what—"
"It's okay, Shepard. I'm just happy you're here. And that we found you, and not some pirates." Tali smiled. There was something about seeing her smile without the helmet visor that Shepard couldn't help but grin.
It didn't take long for them to get to talking like old friends again. Tali told her all about the progress they made on Rannoch, and how many quarians could tolerate places like the Citadel without helmets now—for short periods of time anyway, before they would need to retreat back into their enviro suits. It was generally done for occasions like meeting with important people or attending important events, although some quarians elected to always wear their helmets while offworld as a mark of quarian pride. It made Shepard happy to hear that Rannoch was doing well after everything that had happened.
The news that the geth had been destroyed, however, was decidedly not happy.
"What do you mean, all the geth were destroyed?" Shepard said, frowning.
"When the Crucible fired, it fried a lot of high-level tech. The geth included," Tali said. She looked entirely too calm about the whole thing for Shepard's liking, and she could feel that unwanted but familiar anxiety begin to creep in. She had been so desperate to end the war that destroying the Reapers had trumped all other things—but had she really destroyed the geth?
"So—so just like that? Dead?"
Tali saw her distress and seemed to stifle a chuckle. "Yes. It's not as though we couldn't rebuild them, though," she said lightly. "It had to wait until things like the mass relays were repaired, but many quarians were for rebuilding them. We didn't know how the Crucible blast worked, but for the most part all geth backup data was repairable. For the most part. There was some difficulty restoring the data, but after that it was just a matter of giving them new platforms."
Her body filled with relief to hear that the geth were okay, and she forced herself to exhale slowly in an attempt to alleviate the anxiety within her.
"Are you okay, Shepard?" asked Tali, leaning in to peer at her face more closely.
"I'm fine, I'm fine."
But when Tali did not lean back, Shepard arched an eyebrow. "What's wrong?"
"Did you ever find out what these things are in your skin?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.
Shepard frowned. "What? What things?" she asked in confusion.
Tali looked taken aback by the fact that Shepard had absolutely no idea what she was talking about. She leaned in, holding up her wrist in front of Shepard's face. Her omni-tool blinked into life, and to Shepard's surprise, she found herself looking at a very high-definition full-color hologram of her own face. But once the shock of seeing the colored omni-tool display wore off, she saw the "things" Tali was talking about: her face was criss-crossed quite obviously with some sort of grid of hair-thin wires, and when Shepard looked down at her arms, she could see the faintest sign of them underneath her healing skin. She hadn't noticed the ones on her arms since she'd been preoccupied with the larger wounds, but the ones on her face—it was clear that the doctors had applied medi-gel to heal the skin over the wires. She pulled up her hospital gown and peered at her legs, and found that they too bore signs of this wire grid.
"I have no idea what these are," said Shepard in horror, gently prodding one of the wires in her cheek. Nothing happened when she did, and the wires (or were they even wires?) were so thin that she didn't feel a thing. What could they possibly be for?
Tali turned the omni-tool display off and shifted uneasily in her seat. "Sorry, I thought you already knew about it," she said guiltily.
"Ah no, it's fine, I would've found out sooner or later," Shepard said. "I'm sure the doctors will have some idea of what they're for."
An uncomfortable silence filled the room.
"Oh," Tali said suddenly, a smile on her face, "did Liara tell you that the no krogan visitor rule was because Grunt and his children kept trying to rush into the ward?"
"Grunt, no."
It was obvious that Liara and Tali had some part in controlling the number of visitors that came by (which was zero). Shepard was actually grateful for that—it was overwhelming just meeting twenty-years-later Tali, and she couldn't imagine having to face a slew of regular people in that little hospital room, let alone Grunt and a brood of young krogan. She felt better, however, with each passing moment; she was ready this morning to face more people, both mentally and physically. She hadn't mentioned to the nurse last night about the panic that had shaken her, but she hoped that it was nothing. It was probably nothing.
Dr. Plunkett had briefly returned yesterday, but only had "we're still analyzing the data" to say about the grid embedded in her skin before taking his leave. Liara had been monitoring the goings-on in Huerta Memorial and had discovered that the Council and the Alliance have been communicating with the doctors and had ordered Plunkett to keep things as hush-hush as possible until Alliance people could come brief her on the situation. It didn't sound pleasant in the least, but considering that Shepard was effectively a prisoner of the hospital ward, she figured she should just play along until she knew just what was going on.
At least this morning she was able do said playing along in clothing other than a hospital gown, as Narra had delivered Alliance dress blues with breakfast. Shepard never really liked the dress blues—they always felt too stiff and constricting—but they were a welcome change from the hospital gown. The stiff collar irked her more than usual today though, and it made her slightly anxious that it was so snug around her throat. Were dress blues always like this?
"I expect someone from the Alliance will be here any minute," Liara said as Shepard fiddled with the collar in the bathroom mirror. After a few moments, she tore herself away from the mirror and shut the bathroom door behind her.
"Is the collar bothering you?" Liara asked, worry flickering across her face.
"A little bit, but I'll be fine." She gave one last futile tug at the collar. "Hey, Liara?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you," Shepard said softly, "for staying here with me."
"Of course, Shepard," said Liara, her face softening. "It's what friends do."
They stood in silence while they waited for the Alliance whoever-it-was to show up and explain whatever it was they were going to explain. Shepard hoped that they would have some answers for her, though she expected that if answers weren't forthcoming, Liara would be more than happy to share once they were free of any monitoring that was going on in the ward.
After what felt like an eternity, the door finally slid open to reveal three humans, two of which Shepard didn't know. The one that she did know was Admiral Nitesh Singh, who had commanded the Third Fleet of the Alliance Navy.
"Admiral Singh, sir," she said sharply, saluting as all the people piled into the room.
Admiral Singh returned the salute with a smile—which rather surprised Shepard, as he had the reputation of being, well, a bit of a hardass. "No need to sir me, Admiral Shepard," he said.
Shepard faltered.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"I thought you would've found out by now," Singh said, glancing at Liara before turning his eyes back onto Shepard. "You were posthumously promoted to admiral following the conclusion of the Reaper War. I think you're the only person in the universe with the opportunity to enjoy a posthumous promotion."
Admiral Shepard.
Wow.
"I am Councilor Zoya Matviyenko," said the woman, though Shepard wasn't sure that she heard her name clearly as she was still reeling from the admiral promotion.
"And this," Matviyenko continued, gesturing to the young-ish man standing beside her, "is Henry Chen, one of my assistants."
"Pleasure to meet you, ma'am," said Shepard, nodding to the both of them. Neither of them looked particularly friendly, though Henry looked significantly more neutral than the rather hawkish Matviyenko.
"We're going to need your friend to go," said Matviyenko. Shepard managed to catch a brief look of disdain as the councilor glanced at Liara; she narrowed her eyes ever so slightly—her gut told her that this councilor was going to be a lot like Udina.
"Liara stays," Shepard said, fixing Matviyenko with a firm stare. "Anything you have to say to me, you say to her as well."
"Shepard, it's all right," Liara said quickly when Matviyenko bristled indignantly. "I'll come back when you're finished here."
Shepard wasn't surprised to see that Matviyenko was unused to being challenged in such a way. Truthfully, she wouldn't have objected to Liara leaving if Matviyenko hadn't said it the way she did—but she did and now Shepard was on guard.
"We're here to go over the details of your sudden appearance," said Singh. "Have you been informed of your...circumstances?"
"Yes. Admiral Zorah told me herself that her patrol found me in the Perseus Veil in an unmarked frigate."
"Good," said Singh, nodding. "It was unmarked, but it was a Normandy-class Alliance frigate. Whoever took it was Alliance and knew what they were doing. They removed any potential electronic identifiers, but all signs indicate that it's the SSV Vienna, which went missing shortly after the end of the war."
"How did it just go missing?"
"The pulse from the Crucible disabled all our high-level tech. For a while, we were flying blind out there," Singh said, shaking his head. "A lot of ships didn't make the rendezvous. Some managed to make it back after the fact, some just disappeared. We found some wreckage here and there, but with everything broken down, it was a mad scramble to get things up and running again."
"We didn't come here to give Admiral Shepard a recap," Matviyenko interrupted impatiently, and Shepard could tell that Singh was doing all he could to keep a pleasant look on his face.
"Then what did you come down here to do, ma'am?" Shepard asked, frowning. This councilor certainly didn't like to waste time beating around the bush.
"The fact is, you're a celebrity, Admiral," said Matviyenko, "and you're going to be hounded by the media for a good while. Henry is here to help you get reaquainted with the Citadel, and to be your PR handler. He will be with you to help with the initial media wave."
"So basically, you don't want me running my mouth right at the get go," said Shepard wryly.
"Good to know that we see eye-to-eye. It's not every day that it's the second coming of the savior, so the people are out to get what they can out of it. Henry can provide sterilized statements for you to give when the need arises," Matviyenko said.
"I can handle myself," Shepard said, arching an eyebrow at the councilor.
"I wouldn't think of it that way, Shepard," said Singh. "It's more for your benefit that Henry will be assisting you—there are all sorts of reporters out there, and I'm sure at least one of them would be more than happy to run your reputation—and the Alliance's—into the ground if it meant driving viewership to their network. Henry is familiar with all of them, and he'll know which ones are...less than reputable."
"I see."
"Make sure to use some discretion once you leave here, Admiral," said Matviyenko, giving Shepard an almost accusatory glare before nodding curtly to Admiral Singh and turning to leave the room.
"I'll wait for you outside, Admiral Shepard," Henry said. He glanced at Singh before following the councilor out. "I'll send the doctor in now. And Dr. T'Soni."
The door didn't even have time to close before Liara and Dr. Plunkett stepped in. "Good morning, Comman—Admiral," said Plunkett.
"The doctor has briefed me on their initial findings when they removed you from the stasis pod," Singh said, glancing toward Plunkett. "But further investigation has yielded some—interesting results. Doctor, if you please."
"First of all, I'd like to go over the state of your synthetic implants," said Plunkett. He pressed something on the wall and immediately, a holographic (multi-colored!) screen blinked into life. Her skeleton was displayed, with various bones highlighted. "All the implants Cerberus put in you had been replaced, likely due to the damage from the Crucible blast. New implants were added, mainly in your left wrist, ribs, and lower spine. We were honestly a little worried that your spinal cord had been damaged or that you'd be in a lot of pain, but I'm happy to say that we were mistaken."
"And what about these...wire things in my skin?" Shepard asked, bringing a hand to her face. The apologetic look on Plunkett's face was, to the say the least, disheartening.
"We're not sure, I'm sorry. Dr. Jomus does have a promising theory," said Plunkett, tapping a button on the screen. It changed to a rotating model of Shepard's body, with thin lines crisscrossing over her contours. "She thinks that it may be some sort of shielding mechanism they built into your skin. We unfortunately don't know exactly what it would be shielding, or even how to activate it."
So the doctors didn't know. She had been banking on the hope that they would have discovered something, anything, that could explain just what was going on…
"We did examine them closely and it turns out they're some kind of closely-spaced synthetic electronics embedded in your skin. Not wires, even though they look like it at a distance," Plunkett continued. "We took a biopsy of a small section of it, which is how Dr. Jomus came up with her theory."
"Do you think it's dangerous?" Shepard asked, unconsciously rubbing her arm. Her skin suddenly felt like it was crawling, and she had to stifle the urge to scratch at her face.
Plunkett looked completely undecided on the matter. "At this time, I don't think it's a danger to your health or to anyone around you." He paused a moment, as though thinking over his words. "It's hard to say exactly what would happen if it activated, of course, but Jomus and I are 100% sure that it won't cause any harm, at least to anybody other than yourself."
Well, that's comforting, Shepard thought, grimacing.
"So you wouldn't be worried about having Shepard out among civilians?" Singh asked.
"Oh no, not at all," Plunkett said quickly. "We wouldn't have cleared her for discharge if we thought it was dangerous to let her loose."
"Good, good," said Singh, nodding in satisfaction. "Anything else, doctor?"
Plunkett looked to Shepard. "We just need you to come for weekly checkups, but we'll send you an e-mail once a schedule is set up."
"Good. Then if you don't mind, I need to speak with Shepard and Dr. T'Soni privately."
The doctor left with a nervous "thank you" to Singh, leaving the three alone in the room. "There's just a few more things I'd like to discuss while things are calm," Singh said. His voice had taken on a more somber tone, enough so that Shepard began to mentally prepare herself for any news that might be looking to hit her in the gut.
"While we were investigating the SSV Vienna, we looked into the last known crew list before it disappeared." Singh paused, and Shepard wasn't sure if he was hesitating or if he was giving her a moment to prepare for the news. "It turns out that several members of Task Force Aurora were onboard at the time."
Task Force Aurora? Shepard thought in alarm. Then that means—
"Putting the pieces together now, right?" said Singh gravely.
"But, it can't be. That's impossible," Shepard sputtered, looking to Liara for some sort of support. She found none—Liara looked just as grave as Admiral Singh.
"The message recovery was completed last night," Liara said, her voice heavy. "It seems they—the scientists that took you—preserved you because you were the only one with direct contact with—well—" She trailed off.
Shepard glanced at the both of them, hoping for one infinitesimal moment that this was all some kind of joke. But their faces said it all: there was no joke, and they were deathly serious.
"Leviathan, Shepard."
Son of a bitch.
A/N: Welp. Not sure how happy I am with this chapter, but I'm happy I finished it at all.