"Completely irresponsible, Shepard. Should be used to it by now. Still not, but I'm trying." Mordin Solus breathed in, breathed out. "I'm trying."
"So, you're not mad about the summit?" Shepard asked, rolling his chair closer to the personal terminal now that the danger of being scolded had seemingly passed. "Not even a little?"
"Frustrated. Flustered. Promptly confused. Not mad." Mordin paced around, leaving the screen for a few seconds at a time. "Summit ambassadors dead. Changes everything. Chances of stopping the Reapers no longer favorable. Will have to rely on the quarians and geth to protect the Crucible and assist ground forces."
"But will that be enough?"
"Size of the two fleets unknown. Unlikely their combined forces will ensure a victory. Symbolic victory perhaps, but symbolism won't save galaxy. Will provide a pleasant feeling before extinction, if anything."
Shepard groaned and reclined in his chair. "Great..."
Mordin smiled. "Odds have never been in your favor, Shepard. Current situation is likely still a familiar one."
"I guess." Shepard spun around a few times. "The salarians and turians aren't gonna help me, and the krogan are going to be too occupied attacking the other races to care. Gosh, I mean... curing the genophage? I feel like their timing could've been better on that request."
"Agreed."
"Why don't I get to make any requests, huh? I feel like we're all reaching for the last pudding cup, but I'm the only one who has to dance for it."
"I've seen you dance, Shepard. Imagery hilarious, but analogy no less true."
"Sure, the genophage is a bad deal... but so is extinction. Maybe I'm wrong! I can never tell these days. Been feeling a little spaced out."
"Terrible pun. Continue."
"It's just one demand after another. I just can't seem to get the war assets that the Crucible Project needs."
Mordin rubbed his chin. "Who have you recruited?"
"Uh..." Shepard thought back to the last few weeks. "I think... No, I guess they didn't actually... Well, we have Garrus back on board!"
"A start. Vakarian's skills will prove useful in the battle."
"But I lost Kaidan back on Mars."
"You've broken even, Shepard."
"Story of my life."
"Anyone else? Anyone at all?"
"I have a specialist who reads my emails now."
"Yeoman Kelly Chambers?"
"No, she's off on the Citadel... attempting to become compelling."
"Again—"
"I broke even, I know."
Shepard looked at his empty model display case, at the aquarium full of ridiculously expensive and dead fish, and at the window where starlight filtered in from above, emanating from a thousand burning worlds. Nothing was going the way it should have. He spun around one more time in his chair but stopped. It wasn't fun anymore.
"Not quite sure what to do here, Mordin," he said.
"You'll find a way, Shepard. Always have. Against unspeakable odds: always." Mordin nodded. "Quarians and geth a good start. Do what you can, when you can. The rest will fall into place."
"Thanks, Doc."
The salarian waved him off. "Proud to see you still holding the line, Commander." He made a quick salute. "It had to be you. Someone else might have gotten it wrong."
The feed ended.
Shepard continued staring at the screen as though the answers were somewhere within that frame. He was running out of options and time. If he didn't find more ships to recruit, there wouldn't be an Earth left to save. "Good thing I'm Earthborn, or I'd have a very hard time caring about that planet so intensely."
An invite for a free week of Star Wars: The Old Republic popped up on the screen. The subject line read, If we admit we should've just made KotOR 3, will you come back? He moved it to the spam folder along with the others.
"Hey, Commander?" Joker called through the intercom.
"Go ahead."
"We've got a bit of a fuel situation. If it's all right, I'd like to swing by a fuel depot on the Citadel before we leave to track down the Flotilla."
"Fuel situation?"
"Yeah, that trip to Eden Prime kinda put the zap on our reserves and I didn't have a chance during the whole Cerberus debacle, so..."
"Oh, yeah. That awesome, super amazing Eden Prim adventu—"
"Yeah, that one."
"Don't interrupt me while I'm selling DLC, Joker."
"Sorry, Commander."
"Too late for that. EDI, activate Joker's ejector seat."
"You bastard!"
EDI's voice replaced Joker's through the comm. "I'm afraid Jeff's seat is not equipped with such a feature, Commander. If you would like, I can requisition one from the Alliance if—"
"Will you two stop trying to eject me!"
"That's all right, EDI. You got lucky this time, Moreau." Shepard resumed spinning in his seat. "Fine, get us fueled up. And I guess if we're sticking around, send a list of movie showtimes to Garrus. I hear the new turian production of Sherlock Holmes is in cinemas." He coughed. "In the cinemas we didn't destroy, at least."
"Yes, Commander," EDI replied.
"I'll be down talking to Liara if you need me." Shepard clicked off the comm and took the elevator down to the Crew Quarters. At the kitchen area just outside Liara's room, James and Garrus were having a lively discussion about something Shepard couldn't piece together yet.
James nodded in Shepard's direction. "How's it going, loco?"
Shepard returned the nod. "James. Todos es muy bueno, gracias."
"Wha... Was that Dutch or something?"
Garrus raised a hand. "Shepard, I bought us tickets for Dianetics: The Musical."
"Count me in," Shepard said. "I'm not paying for you, though."
"Too late, I used one of your credit chits. Should've spoke up sooner."
"But you told me just now."
"And I didn't hear a no in that time, so... yeah." Garrus shrugged.
Shepard bit his lip before he could say something he'd regret and turned away to Liara's room. Garrus and James continued talking.
"Okay, how about this?" Garrus began. "Ever hear the name 'Archangel'?"
James shrugged. "No."
"Well, what if I told you... Wait, did you say no?"
"I've never heard of Archangel, no."
"Really? Huh." Garrus scratched his head. "What about Hawkeye?"
"Nope," James said.
"Killshot?"
"Nope."
"Deathshot?"
"No."
"Longshot?"
"Nuh-uh."
"Double Tap?"
James shook his head.
"What about Turian Batman?" Garrus asked, desperate.
James shrugged. "I guess."
"Well, what if I told you... Dammit, never mind." Garrus crossed his arms in a huff. "Dumb game, anyway."
Inside Liara's quarters, Shepard was dumbstruck by the technology that seemed to burst out of every corner and every seam. A wall lined with monitors glowed a dark blue, and they pivoted around in unison to face him. He awed aloud, unsure of which thing to play with first.
"Please, don't touch anything, Shepard," Liara said from a chair off in the corner. Her eyes were locked on the datapad in her hand. "Garrus had to do a lot of calibrations to get all of this in working order."
"Where...? What...?" Shepard walked to the side. The monitors followed him. "How did you get all of this on my ship!"
Liara pressed a few buttons on the datapad, but didn't look up. "When we got back from Mars, I had my equipment brought on board."
"What could you possibly need all of this stuff for?"
Liara shrugged. "Because I'm the Shadow Broker, Shepard."
"You said that earlier, but I thought you were joking! When did that happen!"
[BioWare Plot Hole #180 & Shameless Product Reference #10 Redacted]
"Oh, yeah, I was totally there." Shepard rolled his eyes. "The bomb and the car chase, et ceterta. How could I forget?" He sighed.
"What can I help you with?" Liara asked, distantly.
Shepard walked over and laid a hand on Liara's shoulder. "What's going on? Do you want me to leave?"
Liara finally looked up from the datapad, the spell broken. She blinked a few times, bringing the light back into her eyes. "I'm sorry, love." She tossed the datapad away. "Things have been... hectic. A thousand different contacts and I'm still no closer to finding out what the Catalyst is, where we can find it. No one seems to know. It's..."
"Frustrating?"
"Very."
"Anything I can do to help?" Shepard asked.
"I wish there was." She stood and wrapped her arms around Shepard's chest. "I keep telling myself it's just a matter of time, but I've never been a very good liar."
"Any chance the Catalyst is a polar bear?"
"I don't think so," Liara said. "Can polar bears power a moon-sized Prothean weapon?"
"I don't think so. Then again, I was never any good at biography."
"Biology?"
"Whatever."
"We'll find the Catalyst." Liara stepped away, out of Shepard's embrace and back toward her wall of readouts and messages. "It's only a matter of time."
Shepard watched Liara, sorrow creeping into his mind, as she allowed the information swirling around the room to consume her completely. He couldn't stand to see her like this; she'd always had an obsessive personality, digging for ancient things that might never have been there. But getting her hands on the Shadow Broker's contacts only served to inflame that personality, make it a part of who she was: second-by-second.
The last time he'd seen Liara relax was during that brief window of time between Sovereign's defeat and the day Shepard had died. It'd been almost three years since then. If she could physically show the age all that stress in all that time had wore into her, she'd probably be in her matriarch stage by now.
No, he didn't like to see her like this. But with so much at stake, he couldn't make her stop.
Not that she'd listen.
Shepard made for the door, but took one last look at the terminal screens as they pivoted around to face him. He saw his name atop one of the documents.
"Have you been reading my emails?" he asked.
"Yes," Liara replied, matter-of-factly.
"All of them?"
"Yes."
"Uh..." Shepard scrolled through the long list. Liara was still off in Brokerville. "My follow-up question might be met with some controversy, but ah... Why?"
"It's part of what I do here, Shepard. Don't take it personally. I read everyone's emails."
Shepard clicked through the menus and found a separate email cache for every single crewmember on board, past and present. "What are you doing tonight?"
Liara looked up, confused. "I have to broker a deal with a volus merchant on Omega, set up a trade route between the Nest and the Traverse, and file a report with the Alliance about the location of The Illusive Man's hidden stati—"
"Yeah, yeah, but can you put all that off for a few hours?"
Her brow furrowed. "I suppose. Why?"
"Feel like stealing some of Garrus' popcorn and reading other people's emails?" Shepard asked and Liara seemed to brighten at the idea. "Come on, we haven't had a date night in a while."
Liara's attention darted between the screens, her datapad, and Shepard until the prospect of privacy invasion gained some traction with her conscience. "All right."
Shepard took a seat on the chair in front of the terminal and Liara sat down on his lap, leaning back until their cheeks touched.
"Ready?" Shepard asked, his fingers hovering over the dial.
Liara nodded. "I haven't looked at these closely. I was only looking for keywords and phrases."
"That so?" Shepard smiled. "Then let's hope we find something really embarrassing."
Commander Shepard is Easily Distracted
"MailShep"
From: KAIDAN ALENKO
To: SHEPARD c/o SSV Normandy
Subject: I'm out!
Hey, Shepard.
Listen, thanks a lot for coming to see me at the hospital. Sorry I wasn't awake to thank you in person, but it means a lot to me knowing that you cared.
Doctor Cox gave me a clean bill of health, so I'm ready to get back aboard the Normandy whenever you can pick me up. I'll be in the waiting room when you do. Hope to hear back from you soon.
-Maj. Kaidan Alenko
Message Sent - Three Weeks Ago.
From: SAMANTHA TRAYNOR
To: COMMANDER SHEPARD
Subject: emails
Hi Shepard, it's Traynor. I've had an idea for improving our internal communications systems, and after running the numbers by EDI she seems impressed. Basically, we want to teach you how to use the phone. You seem to be relying on emails to speak to the crew. It's... not a very big ship, sir. I'm sure we could up our efficiency (and security) if we could just talk once in a while. I'll be downstairs, if you'd like to discuss it.
From: JAMES VEGA
To: COMMANDER SHEPARD
Subject: that shit was crazy
Hey, loco. That last mission we went on? Fuckin crazy. Lasers and shit. Why don't you meet me on the Citadel sometime and we can talk about it. But only on the Citadel. If you try and talk to me down here in the cargo bay, I won't say a word about this. I don't care what fuel prices are.
James
P.S. - I get the feeling that Steve Cortez... you know... has bad taste in women. Who marries a girl named Robert anyway?
From: SAMANTHA TRAYNOR
To: COMMANDER SHEPARD
Subject: RE: emails
I was actually right next to you when you typed that, sir. I'm... I'm at the next terminal over? Feel free to talk directly, whenever.
(I'm the British one with the dark hair?)
From: JACOB TAYLOR
To: BRYNN COLE
Subject: RE: Dinner
Brynn,
I just got that menu that you sent me. Turns out I have been there before, and they serve up a pretty good meal if that's where you want to go out. The burgers are just okay, but the friiiiiies...
From: HARBINGER
To: SHEPARD COMMANDER
Subject: [no subject]
You have received an invite to play Farmville: Eden Prime Edition from username: HARBY666.
Personal Message: YOU CANNOT RESIST
Click the included link to create your account!
From: ARIA T'LOAK
To: COMMANDER "T&F" SHEPARD
Subject: [no subject]
Shepard, the DJ here just played this song and it totally reminded me of you. Check it out.
And I think it's gonna be a long, long time
'Til touchdown brings me 'round again to find
I'm not the man they think I am at home.
Oh, no, no, no!
I'm a ROCKET MAN!
From: PRESIDIUM SHOE & BOOT
To: LEGION
Subject: [no subject]
Does this unit have a sole?
From: traynorsam(at)rightnexttoyou(dot)com
To: COMMANDER SHEPARD
Subject: HEY
If I put it in an email, will you listen to me? I'm RIGHT HERE, about three feet to your right. Can you hear this loud typing noise? That's me, typing this. TAP. TAP. TAP.
I was just trying to say that Engineer Adams wanted a word with you, that's all. I wish him luck.
From: DETECTIVE CHELLICK
To: COMMANDER SHEPARD c/o SSV Normandy
Re: Dead Fish
Commander Shepard-
For the last time, please stop submitting reports to us concerning your dead fish. There was no foul play involved; they were not murdered, nor were they in any way involved in an aquatic suicide cult. They died of starvation. This is the fourth report we've received from you in as many weeks. Please stop wasting our time and start feeding your pets.
Detective Chellick
Citadel Security
P.S. - And please stop filing missing persons reports for your space hamster, as well.
From: GARRUS VAKARIAN
To: TALI'ZORAH VAS NORMANDY
Re: You'll regret this.
Okay, Tali, you can't say I didn't warn you. Remember, I wrote one song when I was on Omega—out of boredom. I don't know why you keep calling me a songwriter, but I'm about to prove you wrong here.
Here it goes. Try not to throw up inside your visor.
—
From Palaven to Mars
'Tween a trillion stars
There's not one as lovely as you.
—
We'd both rather go
Dextro-amino
Than end up face down in a loo.
—
Let the Reapers come fight,
Set the planets alight!
By your laughter, you never can tell it.
—
Though your face can't be seen,
You're always in my dreams.
So, you might say it's love at first helmet.
—
That's all you're getting out of me. Promising you'll take your helmet off isn't gonna work on me again. Fool me twenty times, shame on you.
Love,
Garrus
From: JACOB TAYLOR
To: BRYNN COLE
Subject: RE: RE: Dinner
Yeah, the burgers are on the expensive side, but the siiiiiiize...
From: JACOB TAYLOR
To: BRYNN COLE
Subject: RE: RE: RE: Dinner
Stop doing what?
From: CARTH ONASI
To: KAIDAN ALENKO c/o Citadel Embassies
Subject: [no subject]
Okay, that does it. I can't go one day anymore without someone telling me that we sound alike. Meet me on Telos, and we'll settle this once and for all.
-Admiral Carth Onasi
From: DIANA ALLERS
To: COMMANDER SHEPARD
Subject: Commander Shepard? Excuse me, Commander SHEPard?
I'm just going to keep standing here until you let me onboard. Every time you walk past I'm going to yell at you from across the room and it will EMBARRASS US BOTH, Commander. Don't pretend you can't hear me. I'm not even going to change my rubber dress.
You like that, Shepard? Rubber dress? Getting' all hot and [REDACTED c/o S. Traynor]
From: COMMANDER SHEPARD
To: SAMANTHA TRAYNOR
Subject: RE: emails
Who is this?
From: DIANA ALLERS
To: EMILY WONG
Subject: Don't move
You just keep quiet. I already promised I'll return your identity, just as soon as I'm onboard that ship. In the meantime, you stay low and keep quiet, and keep getting me access to your security. You'll see your family again, as long as you stay in that basement and SAY NOTHING...
By the way, how do you work this camera? I can't get it off 'shaky mode'.
From: HENRY LAWSON
To: MIRANDA LAWSON
Subject: You cannot hide forever.
Give yourself to the Reapers. It's the only way you can save your friends. Yes, your Facebook betrays you. Your feelings for them are strong. Especially for... sister. So, you have a twin sister. Your Facebook has betrayed her, too. Shepard was wise to hide her from me. Now his failure is complete. If you will not turn to the Reapers... then perhaps she will...
From: MIRANDA LAWSON
To: HENRY LAWSON
Subject: RE: You cannot hide forever.
NO!
Father, this is why I left in the first place. Stop quoting Star Wars every chance you get! I don't want Oriana exposed to this!
From: THE COMMANDER SHEPARD FAN CLUB
To: COMMANDER SHEPARD
Subject: ShepCon 2186
Hey, Commander Shepard!
Just wanted to let you know that we're going to be changing the venue for ShepCon this year. With the situation on Omega being what it is, a Batarian colony in the Bahak System volunteered to host it at a cheaper rate. Can't wait to see you there!
Message Sent – One Year Ago
From: JEFF "JOKER" MOREAU
To: JACQUELINE NOUGHT
Subject: Hey, hey!
What's up, Jack!
Just checkin' up on the old crew. Wanted to see how things at Grissom Academy were going. Hope all's well!
-Joker
From: JACQUELINE NOUGHT
To: JEFF "JOKER" MOREAU
Subject: Zero
Fuck you, Peanut Brittle.
From: JEFF "JOKER" MOREAU
To: JACQUELINE NOUGHT
Subject: RE: Zero
=(
From: COMMANDER SHEPARD
To: NOT A CERBERUS OPERATIVE
Subject: RE: Kelly Chambers
Thanks for your email, T.I. Mann! I ran into Kelly Chambers a few days ago on the Citadel, actually. Wasn't aware she had friends (not sure why friends was always in quotes in your email, but whatever), or else I would've tried to get in touch with you sooner. I've attached her home address, her work schedule, a record of her allergies, and a list of people she trusts. You guys take these surprise parties seriously! (Again, not sure why surprise party was always in quotes.) Good luck with that! Hope she doesn't see it coming!
From: DR. CONRAD VERNER
To: ADMIRAL STEVEN HACKETT
Subject: Catalyst
Per your request, I took a small team back to Eden Prime to survey the site where the last Prothean beacon was found. Looks like your hunch was correct. One of the families living in the area had frequent contact with the beacon, however indirectly. Unfortunately, they were killed during the Reaper attack by Sovereign, but I found strange writings in their farmhouse, some of it in the Prothean script, though none of it was anything we weren't already aware of.
A point of interest, though: I found a diary left behind by the mother. It appears her son continually referred to something he called "The Catalyst," an object that he frequently saw in his dreams. There's no further elaboration in the diary, since the mother had written it off as a bad dream. But the son knew what the Catalyst was, Admiral Hackett. Disappointing, considering his fate.
It appears our chances of discovering exactly what the Catalyst is died with Richard L. Jenkins.
Shepard scrolled to the end of the page. "Nothing really all that good in there, I guess," he mumbled. "I'm not sure how you can stand to do this all day..." He looked down and found Liara asleep, breathing softly, her head nuzzled against his chest. He smiled to himself; he'd begun to wonder if Liara ever slept.
As carefully as he could manage, he picked her up into his arms and carried her through the all the clutter and all the light pollution until they made it to her bed. He set her down gently, pulled a blanket up to her shoulders, and turned away toward the door.
He still hadn't stopped smiling.
Note: The emails in this chapter were co-written with Mister Buch. Special thanks to him!