Disclaimer: Don't own anything but the slightly off personality of my Shepard.
Note: I've taken certain liberties regarding the ending of the mission with the Collectors' ship; and there's some dialogue from the game.
Note #2: English is not my mother language so I shall immediately apologize for any grammatical and/or spelling mistakes made. Mind you some of it is quite deliberate.
*ch2.
Dying star pulsed.
Blue and red – it made for a staggering effect. Why, she wouldn't mind having one herself.
"You know," Shepard started eyes focused on pitch black ceiling, as it appeared to her at the moment, "it never ceases to amaze me in these little talks of ours, how utterly firm you are in your belief that throwing me to the wolves will accomplish anything."
Silence stretched as he lightly shook the ashes off his cigar into the ashtray, most conveniently placed on the armrest, "I needed the collectors to believe they had the upper hand. Telling you could have tipped them off in any number of ways." A smirk, "Besides, I wouldn't have sent you in if I didn't think you could succeed."
Sofia let out a mild sound of doubt.
There was something decidedly vulture-like in his movements, Shepard concluded. One, very old and very smart, who surveyed and arranged battles for the gain of biggest, fattest, meatiest corpse available. Not that it was entirely all he was about. It was but one of his facets. One quite prominent and disagreeable.
She allowed herself to rub her left shoulder, freshly patched after most recent race through the not so abandoned Collector's ship, "My team of 'unique individuals' will hardly be able to accomplish anything if you keep hammering me into situations where I do not know which one of their abilities would prove most useful." Indeed, incidents like the most recent one reminded her steadily that many things still needed thorough planning. Thorough planning required information – information which was deliberately being withheld from her. Information that could have prepared her for toxic surprise Collectors graciously bestowed her team with.
Smoke curled around vulture's cybernetic eyes, narrowed, as Shepard relaxed hers. Apparently, there was some disagreement between them regarding the way this matter should be conducted.
"You may not like being on the receiving end – neither would I – but the facts are with me. As much as we try to avoid them these decisions need to be made. But more importantly, it paid off," he paused, drawing a smoke luxuriously from his cigar, "EDI confirmed our suspicions."
Shepard's eyebrows shot up. Grudges had to be put aside because now they were getting somewhere.
*/*/*/*/*
Even before, during her chase for Saren, Shepard had come to an enlightening insight how listening to her crew's musings always proved to both elevate boredom and bring insight. Two for the price of one as, it were. It was a good bargain. Shepard especially liked when good bargains hopped in her way.
Jacob, for instance disliked the approach the Illusive Man took. In fact, Jacob disliked too many things about Cerberus' way of running operations Shepard could only count ticking hours until the matter would become too heavy burden on his conscience.
The good professor, on the other hand, was too much of a pragmatist to let it sidetrack him. It was after all a necessary risk to gain necessary access to necessary data banks. It did not have his full approval, of course. Normandy, his work and he himself, were still exposed to heavy risk.
Miranda's loyalties were far too deep engraved into her mind to ask questions. Sofia was fully aware that a shift might have happened after some recent events on Illium but a time for a complete change was yet to come. She could wait.
As for Shepard herself...
"Quite understandable – not that continued usage of such tactic will have favorable results for his health, and ours." The commander quite leisurely perched herself on the table, one leg bent under her, and turned to blue hologram "Now EDI, about this iff?"
"My analysis is accurate, Shepard," the AI replied in clipped voice. "I have also determent the approximate location of the Collector home world based on navigational data from their vessel."
In place of Normandy's graphic, a map of galaxy flickered on and, lazily reluctant to get off the table as she was, Sofia twisted a little to get a better view. Cross-like marker moved around the map until it settled on the galactic core.
"That can't be right," Miranda sidestepped the commander hogging space upon the table.
Shepard leaned over a bit, "Not so surprising when you consider all the matters at hand."
"Can't be. The core is just black holes and exploding suns. There are no habitable planets there."
"Could be an artificial structure. Space station protected by powerful mass effect fields and radiation shields."
"Even the Collectors don't have that kind of technology."
Shepard carefully watched her crew lapse into argumentative discussion, with pros and cons being tossed around like crumpled napkins. Mordin's restless movements expressed even more so than with other salarians, Jacob's persistent calm mixed with eagerness, Miranda's aggressiveness covering her fear… She brushed her fingers across her lips in thought.
"Sovereign did," the commander stated. "The Citadel, mass relays too. Space station surrounded by black holes? To them must be a trifle."
"The logical conclusion is that a small safe zone exists on the far side of the relay," EDI supplied. "A region where ships can survive. Standard relay transit protocols would not allow safe transport. Drift of several thousand kilometers is common and would be fatal in the galactic core. The reaper iff must trigger the relay to use more advanced encrypted protocols."
Sofia pushed herself off the table, measured steps taking her around it, "Can anyone else imagine quite easily as I the Normandy going 'puff'" she used her hands to gesticulate the possible event, "should we test the relay now? Yes? No? I suppose it is settled then."
Jacob shook his head, "Sooner or later we'll need that iff. I say, why wait?"
"It's a derelict reaper," Miranda was quick to protest, point out. "What if the collectors are waiting for us? We may want to be fully prepared before we take that kind of risk."
Shepard let out a chuckle, one reminiscing of cat with a yarn. "Any number of creatures could await us at any number of places. There are other matters to pursue for the moment," Shepard replayed in a surprisingly plain manner. "Iff will not walk away on us."
Taking that as clue that their commander has made a decision the galaxy map flickered out, replaced with graphic of Normandy, as the three of her crew dispersed. Shepard's eyes went to one of them.
"Professor," she called to salarian scientist before with the sound of light cracking propelled herself a short distance, through the table and in front of him resulting in rapid blinking on alien's part. "A moment of your time, if you would."
"Careless usage of biotics Shepard. Dangerous. Not looking forward to putting you back together," he shook his head displeased, frown setting over his large eyes.
"But it has been done once already. A second time should pose no difficulty. Still, the concern in your eyes gives me fuzzy feelings," Sofia crooned at the very much un-amused alien scientist. Subduing her smile she proceeded in a more neutral tone, "Now, regarding that minuscule thing we talked about. What say you? Can your vast intellect manage it?"
Mordin waved his hands dismissively, "Impossible. Too much to do. Latest development is very interesting. Looking forward to further analysis of samples you've brought."
"Ah, what can I say?" she gestured at herself, taking her place in front of him, blocking his way to the lab. "I go through great lengths to be of help, even when quite unwilling, I assure you. Painful too."
"Still, it helps," Mordin nodded satisfied, walking over the tone of her voice with cheerful ease, "Will inform you of progress. Might take a few days. Never can tell with Reaper technology."
"Naturally, professor," Shepard took a somber step back. "Your already lacking sleeping schedule is suffering. I can understand if my request is the straw to break the camel's back."
This gravely insulting assumption, which surprisingly enough got translated in a manner most comprehensive, by the commander made him pause. It showed. Mordin was very expressive.
"Certainly not sleeping! Gas traces from Collector ship require my full attention." He went on quickly, taking in a sharp breath, "Far too similar to seeker swarms and plague on Omega to be a chance. Strangely, it affects humans as well. Highly unusual course for Collectors to take given their actions."
She turned to look at him and nodded, "By all means, new filters in helmets are an absolute must, I agree. Much to my fortune, it did not appear to be lethal in intent. Slight dizziness, slowed reflexes and some vomiting." Shepard rubbed her chin, "Their desire to have me in one piece is great. How queer."
Solus frowned, "You, yes. Everyone else – expendable. In danger. This new pollutant could prove fatal in combat. No efficient protection for the team equates low chances of mission success."
Sofia looked at him, nonplused for a moment, and arched a red eyebrow.
"By all accounts professor, Mission success highly depends on an efficient commander – and a happy commander is an efficient commander," she countered with a smirk and he pulled back slightly taken aback by her persistence to pursue the matter.
"Hmm. Will look into it. Make no promises." It was not to say she had won the argument, but rather that he could spend his time in a more productive manner than standing in a hallway arguing with ship's commander.
"Much appreciated, professor," Shepard murmured.
Shoulders slumping just barely he sighed and walked away, looking as if he just had to deal with a petulant youth whose grasp of science and responsibility involved a carrot and a stick, and not necessarily one with another.
Worse yet, that abysmal logic actually worked.
*/*/*/*/*
Introspection.
When remembering every detail was possible, it came by so easily it was unavoidable.
* Earlier, aboard the Collectors' ship…
The Justicar pressed on, cleaning the path before them; Shepard diverted attention from behind; and he snipped off those too far off for either of them.
The commander moved quickly, giving them cover from Collectors, many Husks and a Praetorian fast behind them. From left and right, quick maneuvers to draw away the enemy fire. Her, they wanted in one piece. For them, they couldn't care less.
The shuttle was close but they were pressed hard.
Pilot on the comm, "I'm not loosing another Normandy!"
Collector, covered with bright gold, glowing lines. He held a rifle, aiming for her, Shepard. Always Shepard.
He pulled his own. Aimed. It was getting hard to breathe. He could feel the pain in his bones. The shimmering Collector was open. He pulled the trigger. A blur of silver and red. *
Not once had he deluded himself with the idea that this could be easy, that every assignment would end smoothly. But mistakes like that should never have been made in the first place. He never should have missed.
* "Missed? Oh, you've hit something alright," she laughed, strained sound falling from her lips, tapped her rose colored shoulder. Torn metal, blood and flesh. *
He did not think that Arashu would not forgive him this. Nor should she.
To shoot his own employer? Thugs did things like that, not professionals. Not him.
Not even early in his carrier had he made a mistake comparable to this.
He was aware he wasn't the only one being affected by the sudden intrusion of foul tasting contaminant in his helmet. Samara was unsteady on her feet as well. Shepard had all but ripped her helmet off, coughing and in spasm. It was no excuse still. His senses might have been impaired through Collectors' biological toxin released in the surrounding space but his extensive training covered the means, the ways, breathing techniques to prevent foreign matter from taking over his wits so quickly.
Breathing.
The irony was not lost on him. He could easily guess from whence the problem came.
* "Normady has state-of-the-art medical bay. And a mad scientist as a bonus."
"If the finest medical minds in the hanar Illuminated Primacy can't solve the problem, I doubt your ship's medic could." His words were cold, final.
She rolled her eyes, shook her head.
A whisper.
"Ye of little faith." *
His shoulders slouched for a fraction of a second before the sound of door hissing open and light footsteps hummed rhythmically through the room. It stopped, paused behind him and he could feel clear eyes probing and tracing lines at the back of his neck with unbridled intensity he had come to identify with Commander of Normandy.
"I sense deeply rooted masochism in you," her voice came from behind his shoulders, light, amused. "There has to be, to keep going over it like that."
The peculiar way she had framed the sentence made it obvious to him that she had informed herself of his species. It was what he would expect from someone with Shepard's reputation.
"Shepard," was his curt answer. Short, simple and not inviting. Facing her was something he had prepared himself for, yet something he feared at the same time.
She moved into his eyesight, next to the window overseeing the mass effect core. He quickly observed that her movements were unhindered, just a twinge stiff when she would move her arm. Dr. Chakwas had done a good job.
"You have informed yourself."
She crossed her arms, her sore shoulder twitched, and leaned against the glass, "To humans, it is a blessing to forget. I find the prospect of being able to remember everything daunting. I do have to wonder, is there a point to it?"
"You make presumptions regarding my thoughts, Shepard," he frowned, rarely happening tension bubbling to the surface of his all encompassing calm. Last time she had sparked a reaction similar to this was when she had compared drell to slaves. Except this time it was not her ignorance the root of the problem, but his shame.
She was quiet, regarding him quite carefully. More carefully then she had since his coming on board. Having a professional of his caliber in her team was certainly something different. Next to him and Miranda, Shepard predicted migraine and coffee on the horizon.
Coffee was a trusted friend of hers. Migraine was an unannounced guest who liked to put up its dirty shoes on her precious coffee table.
"I can name a number of blunders that have happened today, the least one being related to you," she started, tone of her voice strongly steel like. He had not heard her use it before, but that observation hardly registered properly at the moment. "Unless you're going to stun me into silence by telling me that blowing off my shoulder was a hidden tactic of yours you simply forgot to share."
He could not be certain if her intention was to goad him or disgrace him further but the effect was largely the same. "It was not. But it was a mistake," his raspy voice had an edge of a serrated knife. "One I would not have made lightly."
Once more silence settled between them, and this time there was no comfort in it.
"Very well," with a little twist of her feet Shepard slid into a seat in front of him, fingers intertwined and expression lulled into fake seriousness. "For the purpose of smooth sailing in the future, let us clear the air then."
His dark eyes were expressionless, Sofia suspected that had more to do with his disposition than their pitch black color, and rested on her.
"In terms of blame… It was quite clearly your fault for pulling the trigger when you did – you might want to prevent your attention wandering off next time like a chick in flight. Subsequently, it was my fault for getting in the way of a freelancing experienced sniper – I'm usually not that suicidal, you have my word on it. Finally, it was the Collectors' fault for generally being oppressively disagreeable lot who abducted humans across the galaxy, thus encouraging us to board their ship where they had every intention to have us killed by releasing the toxin which had our bodies reacting not the way they're supposed to – because I shall inform you right now, and you can bet in anything you hold dear in it, there is no way you'd ever be fast enough to hit me," she replied with a perfectly straight face, frown only settling at the very end.
In a short moment of silence and background hum of the engine she let the words settle in his mind the way they were in hers. Provided they didn't get lost in translation. Sofia found the prospect amusing.
"On this ship, only one person has any business of being infallible, and that person is not you," she said and this time, when he searched her face, there was no trace of mockery there, nor there was any in her voice. "Satisfied?" she prompted.
"No," he said in a resigned tone of non-appreciation, but a moment later lowered his eyes to his clasped hands. "But I see your point."
Sofia Shepard shrugged, an easy grin on her face. In the end, that was all that really mattered.
*/*/*/*/*