It didn't take long for the mild sedative Sana had administered to take effect, and when Odessus became sluggish, Hannah left the room and headed for the washroom. She felt slick, sticky, and shaken all at once. By the time she'd stripped off her clothes and stepped under the spray of the showerhead, the once-bright red blood was already turning to a rusted brown. With the warm water coursing over her skin and carrying the sweat and red and rust down the drain, she closed her eyes and tried to breathe out the muted electricity the major's confirmation had sent straight through her core.
"War is imminent," Hannah whispered.
It was one thing to root invaders out of a single colony. It would be quite another to engage in a protracted conflict that spanned the galaxy. A glacial chill had settled in the pit of her stomach, and Hannah felt her hands shaking even when she pressed them against the cool metal of the shower wall.
The fear that gripped Hannah was new and nearly overwhelming. She already knew how this conflict would play out. It would be a war of attrition, and the deciding factor would not be which side had better fighters or better morals or even better leaders. Even if the Alliance could match the Hierarchy ship for ship, it wouldn't matter. It would be resources alone that would determine the outcome of the war, and humanity's resources paled in comparison. They had strong ships and willing, determined soldiers. But Earth's system of colonies was still small and developing and costly, not yet profitable. Hell, even Arcturus, the seat of the Alliance military, was still under construction. The turians had had centuries to develop their resource centers and network of governments. They had political capital and an entire galactic community of allies to lean on.
This war was already decided. Humanity would kick and struggle on its way up the gallows, but it would hang all the same.
War with—and by extension, defeat by—the turians would mean countless lives lost. It would mean economic devastation on a level never before experienced in human history. It would mean bad blood and a lost opportunity for building alliances. It would mean vulnerability to exploitation. It would mean more wars that humanity would be even less equipped to fight and win. It would mean the slow but unrelenting degradation of human society. And every other race in the galaxy would only ever think of humans in those terms.
"Good job, humanity," she mumbled. "We'll be using our first impression on the galaxy fighting with one of the cool kids on the Council. Not exactly endearing."
The water began to run cold, so she switched it off and reached for a towel. Sana had left a fresh set of clothing—a green tunic-like thing that was similar to one she'd seen the asari wear—outside the door to the washroom, and Hannah dressed quickly. Walking down the hallway, she heard Sana speaking to someone behind a closed door, but her words were muffled. Another voice spoke back, low and feminine and equally obscured.
When she entered the examination room again, she was brushing her fingers through her hair, trying to preempt the tangles, and separating it into three locks to braid it. She thought idly about what she might give for a proper brush at this point.
Odessus was stretched out on her bed, but her eyes were open. Hannah imagined she had one or two things on her mind to work out now that she was a fugitive from her own military. What would've happened if it had been Alliance soldiers who'd found them on Shanxi instead? She would've fought tooth and nail for fair treatment, she was sure. But would she have risked as much as Odessus had? Would she have run from the Alliance if it became clear Odessus was in danger? Or would she have fallen in line and not challenged the chain of command? These questions could never be answered in hypotheticals, but she liked to think she would.
She began to wind her hair together.
"What happens to you if the Hierarchy catches us before we get to the Citadel?" she asked flatly, as if they were talking about the weather and not their respective fates.
Odessus closed her eyes and took in a steadying breath. "Assuming they arrest us and don't just blow us out of the sky? The best-case scenario is that I'll be court martialed and sent to prison. It's more likely I'll be killed in action. Same for you."
"And Sana?"
She opened her eyes again and swung her legs to sit on the side of the bed. She rolled her shoulder and looked away. "Depends on whose finger is on the trigger. She's technically a citizen in the Hierarchy, so there wouldn't be any political blowback if she were shot too. But killing a doctor who's also an asari wouldn't look good on anyone's record. No guarantees, though."
Hannah hummed thoughtfully to herself and tossed her rope of hair over her shoulder again. "What's our ETA to the Citadel?"
Odessus pulled up her omni-tool. "We're still two hours and thirty-two minutes from the relay in the Annos Basin. Provided we don't have another Hierarchy cruiser waiting for us, we'd be able to use that relay to jump to the Serpent Nebula, which would take another hour and sixteen minutes."
Hannah nodded absently. "So, in about four hours, we'll be at the Citadel?"
Odessus shook her head sharply and winced. "We really shouldn't be going to the Citadel at all. We'll be captured immediately if we go there. Citadel Security gets so many of its recruits from the Hierarchy, it's basically just another arm of the turian military."
"I suppose you think we should go to the Terminus Systems?" Sana said as she walked into the room, clearly finished talking to whoever it was Hannah had heard in that closed room. "Set up somewhere on Omega, maybe? Or perhaps you would prefer to take a chance on a batarian colony somewhere? And what are you doing sitting upright. Lie back, please."
Odessus growled and flared her mandibles. "Don't be ridiculous, Sana. It's not one or the other. The Citadel isn't safe. We just need to get somewhere to lay low for a while."
Sana waved a hand, dismissing Odessus. "Nonsense. You have done nothing wrong. Vyrnnus forced you into being a fugitive, and Hannah has only escaped abuse. Moreover, I had a very comfortable living before I got that call from you, and I would like to return to it as soon as possible. None of us can run forever. The sooner we bring this ordeal to an end, the sooner we can resume our lives."
Both Hannah and Odessus fell quiet. Mostly, she didn't believe Sana knew what she was doing or what the consequences might be for aiding in the escape, impromptu as it was. But the sensation of light fingers brushing against her jaw came unbidden to mind, and she had to close her eyes to keep from leaning into a touch that wasn't there. She felt the heavy weight of toddlerhood in her arms and took in a deep breath. She needed to get back. She needed to know Michael was alive. She needed to let them know she was alive. She needed to be back in her bed, with Michael pressed against her back, his arm flung lazily over her waist, and with Alli curled tightly against her middle. She needed this purgatory of waiting and hoping and waiting to end.
When she opened her eyes, Sana was looking at her intently, the indigo of the marks around her eyes grown seemingly darker with the asari's immovable determination.
Hannah sighed and nodded. "What did you have in mind?"
#
Hannah was an excellent pilot.
She'd been top of her class in flight school. She'd spent every waking hour during training studying the inner workings of every fighter class until she could take her Rosie apart and put her back together in her sleep—well, if she were to sleep for fifteen hours straight, she could. While she and Michael had been stationed in Rio, she'd applied herself to understanding meteorology and atmospheric physics because she didn't want to be surprised by forces she couldn't see.
She'd advanced quickly to lieutenant commander both through dogged determination for perfect marks and through her tweaks to flight patterns and maintenance schedules that would result in millions of credits saved over the course of her career. Hannah was a capable officer of the Alliance Navy, and no challenge was too small for her to meet.
Learning the controls to an alien ship did not qualify as a small challenge, but she had no choice but to be game for it.
An image of the Citadel glowed orange and spun lazily above Sana's wrist as Odessus protested.
"We're going to get ourselves killed," the major insisted. Hannah had lost count of the number of times she'd made this argument.
She shrugged, belying the nonchalance of the gesture by simultaneously wringing her hands. "It's a better plan than simply running. It's not going to get any safer to board the Citadel a month or a year down the road, especially if full-scale war breaks out. Right now we at least have the advantage that no one aboard the station knows what a human looks like."
An irritated hum vibrated from Odessus. "That doesn't mean you'll go unnoticed, Hannah. You're going to draw attention."
The turian began to pace, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. Hannah wondered where this caution was when she'd decided to crash their ships together or when she'd slid down the slick sheet rock of the ravine with the water rushing and rising toward them. Where was this concern when she'd smuggled Hannah's tablet in to her, or when she'd warned Hannah against Vyrnnus? Perhaps it had finally become too much for her. Perhaps she'd fill for the number of risks she was willing to take for the year. Hannah shook her head. It didn't matter. There was still one more risk to take.
Odessus growled lowly and muttered again how Hannah was going to get herself killed.
Sana raised a hand to silence both of them. "You are both correct. We stand a high risk of apprehension, but this is also the only way to bring about a lasting resolution."
Odessus huffed and cast a sidelong glance at the asari but said nothing. Hannah had an idea of what she might be thinking and couldn't help but agree. As much as the doctor wanted a crisp, clean path out of the clusterfuck they'd found themselves in, it wasn't going to happen. Not easily, anyway.
"I haven't met a bird I couldn't fly," Hannah said at last, "but I've been able to read the controls."
Odessus stopped her pacing and seemed to sway. Hannah wasn't sure if it was the sedative Sana had given her, or if it was indecision. Finally, she rounded on them. "I can't believe I'm helping you with this stupid plan. Give me your 'tool." Hannah unwrapped it from her wrist and gave it to Odessus. "The program for the 'tool is written for an operating system that's different from the ship's onboard virtual intelligence matrix, so you can't just install it one from the other." She brought up a screen, and her fingers flew across it. "But you can sync the two so that they can communicate. While they communicate, the VI learns the 'tool's most-used programs for the pilot's ease of use. It will learn and build its own translation program."
Sana stepped back, seemingly stunned. "How do you know that?"
The major's mandibles twitched but she didn't answer. Hannah chuckled. "It looks like I'm not the only one who knows birds."
Odessus nodded at that and closed the screen. "Take a look now."
Hannah slipped the omni-tool back into place and felt the now-familiar tingle. She left the room and made her back to the cockpit. The numerous virtual interfaces were now parseable. A quick scan and she could place all the avionics she would need to fly the ship where she needed it to go.
Both Odessus and Sana had walked up behind her. She turned and smiled at them. "I can work with this. How long before we hit the relay?"
Sana pulled up the timer again. "We will be entering the relay's field in a little more than five minutes. It's a well-traveled route, so the algorithm for the jump is automated. We'll feel a little extra gravity during the jump, but nothing more."
As the last of the words escaped her lips, an alarm began to sound. All three of them threw up their hands to cover their ears, and Hannah fell backward into the cockpit again. The virtual interfaces flashed bright red and two triangles hovered above the main dash.
Hannah dropped into the seat and strapped in. "So much for not having company."
Odessus sank heavily into the seat next to her. "Let me handle them, Hannah. You don't know the controls yet."
Hannah waved off her words. "And you're under the influence of sedatives. Run point on cyber and let me fly this thing. Jam their targeting, throw up firewalls, whatever you have to do. You're the only one aboard who knows those systems."
Odessus didn't argue and brought up the screen for the cyberwarfare suite. Hannah also noticed that she did not close the interface for the controls.
"My controls," Hannah said pointedly.
Odessus looked at her hard, and Hannah did not look away. The last thing she needed was another pair of hands on the controls, and the major should know that. It took a long moment, but eventually, she closed the copilot aviation interface. "Your controls. I hope you know what you're doing, Hannah."
She didn't have the same facility with Sana's ship as she'd had with Rosie, but she had to start somewhere. She punched in a new vector, and the ship turned around.
"The relay is the other way," Sana offered placidly from behind Hannah.
"Sterile cockpit," Hannah said, just as placidly.
"Strap in, Sana," Odessus said a bit more warmly.
Hannah chuckled. "Yeah, you definitely want to strap in. My crazy Uncle Ivan will be here soon."
"Your who?" Sana asked.
"Never mind, just secure yourself."
She heard, rather than saw, Sana settle in and click her harness into place.
It wasn't long before the two frigates started to close on their position. She just hoped she could lure them far enough out to give her enough time to make it into the relay's effective field.
"They've locked our position, Hannah," Odessus said coolly.
"That's your department."
Her hands flew across the interface, and the flashing red turned to amber. She let out a long slow breath.
"See? I knew you could do it."
"They'll lock us again in thirty-two seconds. Whatever you're going to do, you need to do it now."
Hannah tracked the trajectories of the three ships. Thirty-six seconds at least.
"Just take care of it."
As the time ticked down and the two red triangles grew closer to their position, she could feel Odessus start to hum nervously.
"Ten seconds, Hannah."
"Buy me six more seconds."
The alarms started to sound again, and the controls flashed red.
"They're on top of us!" Odessus said. "They don't even have to shoot us from where they are. They can just crash through us and their shields will absorb it. I can't hack against that, Hannah."
Hannah could feel the shift in gravity as the ship passed into the envelope of the frigates' combined mass effect field. There we go, she thought.
Her hands flew through the controls and the ship took a hard turn up and over the frigates, slinging them back toward the relay. If she looked up, she'd be able to see them passing above her, but there was no time for sight-seeing. The mass relay lay just ahead, but no matter how much larger the frigates were compared to Sana's ship, they would still course-correct—and soon. She had to get through the relay before they could lock on her again.
"Thirty seconds to jump," Stripes said beside her.
Thirty seconds. Thirty seconds of stillness, of held breath, of being both dead and alive. Thirty seconds of eternity.
On the screen, the frigates were already turning toward her, each one spinning away from the other in a way that made Hannah smile as she imagined them following her wake.
Fifteen seconds.
The two triangles were already falling into an intercept trajectory and closing quickly.
Five seconds.
"They've locked our position."
The alarm reverberated through the ship, and the red warning light held steady, no longer flashing.
Hannah hit the thrusters for any last juice they could give and jumped into the relay.
The frigate VI calculated that the shot had missed its target by 0.5 seconds.