It's been too long.
Mass Effect belongs to Bioware.
Shepard exhaled.
Another corridor, another body. Years fighting this war had hardened her considerably, but the sight of dead civilians was always difficult to deal with. It had to be. Otherwise what else was there to fight for?
She kneeled next to the dead turian, one of the many they had come across. The rooms in the lower levels were filled with the stench of death, bodies crumpled on the floor in utter disorder. She reached a gloved hand and touched the slack mandible on his face, stained with blue. This one, like all the others, had taken his own life. She frowned, wishing Garrus was here to help make sense of this. Without really meaning to she saw his face filling with contempt, urgent for an explanation.
She got to her feet. Garrus. Why was she thinking about him at a time like this? Her earlier conversation with Thane must have weighed more on her mind than she thought.
She radioed Tali and Samara, still fussing over the power controls, and informed them she was going on ahead.
"So the Skyllian Blitz, that must have been exciting."
Shepard took a glance at the bottle he tipped to her direction, leaning over and taking it firmly. It was fuller than she expected, they had been here for the better part of an hour, talking in the quiet space of the main battery. It had been Garrus' idea of catching up, and hell, she needed the distraction. Being brought back from the dead was heavy stuff.
"You act like I enjoyed being there," she took a hearty swig, enjoying the light sting of alcohol. Garrus had picked a brand made to be especially compatible between species, though she couldn't help but wonder if they were still challenging biology by forgoing the drinking glasses.
He shrugged, "I always thought of you as someone with an appreciation for battle."
"And you'd be right," she admitted, handing him the bottle and briefly meeting his eyes. "But I was on leave that day and…" she straightened up a little. "Unprepared," she explained, after a short silence. "No one was expecting Reapers on Elysium, not for a long while at least."
"Ah, makes sense, I suppose." He offered her the bottle and this time, as she reached for it, their fingers touched. Clumsily, she took it, the memory of his fleeting touch embedding into her skin despite her best efforts to ignore it.
She drank again, nearly emptying the bottle. She found her eyes lingering on Garrus, as he stood with one hip leaning tentatively against the console, hands folded across his chest. Though she couldn't see it very well, the bandage on the right side of his face was still there, a haunting reminder of how close she'd come to losing another friend. His eyes, those impeccable blue orbs, suddenly flickered to hers. She quickly averted her face.
"Oh, you can have the rest," he said politely.
"Thanks," she muttered, and promptly drank what was left. "Maybe next time, it'll be my treat," she gave the empty bottle a shake. "And I'll invite you up to my cabin, you know, for a change."
He chuckled, mandibles flaring. "Sure."
She never did.
Space was beautiful; cold and empty and vast, slowly unfurling before her eyes as chunks of metal were ripped away from the hull of the ship. It was an odd thing, witnessing her enemy so close, and being so unafraid except for the safety of her squad and the ship carrying her crew.
The Reaper stirred to life again, feeble and disassembled but somehow still managing rudimentary functions. At odd intervals, it could still lash out with a searing beam, aiming at nothing. But it was enough to slowly crack the ship apart. Thankfully, the mass effect field around the perimeter was active, ensuring that she wouldn't be sucked out into blackness anytime soon.
"They're here, Commander," Joker's voice came through with minimal static, but frayed with anguish. He waited with bated breath to hear her response.
"Good," she let her body relax a little. Tali and Samara were safe on the Normandy, a little shaken perhaps, but well out of harm's way. She was beginning to regret having gone ahead after all. Maybe if she hadn't, she wouldn't have gone through those doors just as the power came back on and sealed them for good.
She collapsed against a crate, her hand curling over an aching shoulder, fingers probing the dented armor. As the Reaper had stirred to life, it had sent out a massive blast that, according to a very anxious Joker, could be seen from the Normandy. The resulting debris had nearly crushed her, not that she'd gotten away completely unscathed. "Joker, I need to know—"
"I'm not leaving without you," he said stubbornly, and she could practically see the determination in his eyes through the visor in her helmet. "So don't ask me to. Ever."
"If it comes down to it, I might," she reminded softly, "and you'd have to."
He exhaled, and Jane couldn't help but think the reverberation of his long sigh was beautiful as it filtered through her earpiece. It brought back memories of a time when she would lie in bed with him, unfettered from the complications of full command. It never did work out between them, but it was something they both mutually accepted as fact.
"I'm not leaving until I kill this thing," she informed him, keeping her tone focused and unalarmed. She rose to her feet and reached up behind her, grabbing hold of her M-96 Mattock. Taking out a Reaper on foot was strenuous work, even with the right equipment. But she had the advantage here, in that the one here was immobile and heavily secured to a large platform in the middle of the cargo bay.
She stood a mere five feet from it, surveying the markings on its surface, the torn ligaments and sheared off limbs that were propped up on either side of the wide bay. She made a dismayed sound and clenched her jaw. The devastation she had witnessed in the upper deck, the bodies she had to inspect—one by one—for any sign of life before moving on were because someone somewhere had thought it practical to keep a Reaper within the confines of a ship. The Hierarchy better have an explanation for this.
She took a deep breath and, ignoring the resulting pain, she lifted her left hand to support the weight of the rifle as she pointed it at the Reaper. A steady onslaught of bullets ripped through its core, pausing only when Shepard had to reload. After it looked obliterated enough, she dispatched a grenade and braced for cover as it blew through any remaining circuits.
"Send in a shuttle, Joker," she put her rifle away, "and get me some biotics."
"Yes ma'am," he replied, his voice a note brighter with relief.
Jack hauled her up with relative ease, plucking her up through the wide opening the Reaper made in the hull and, with some cooperation from Miranda, eased her inside the shuttle. Shepard fell to her knees as soon as the doors sealed and mumbled something about losing her sense of wonderment.
"Wish I'd been there," Jack said wryly, settling into her seat on the shuttle while Miranda helped Shepard up. "You look like you had a blast."
Miranda shot her a look of warning and gently lowered the Commander so she could sit. "You're injured," she noted, observing the way she held herself. Shepard nodded quietly and allowed Miranda to unload the rifle from her shoulder. "I'll let Chakwas know."
She uttered a word of thanks and radioed Joker. "What's the status on the data Tali recovered?"
"She and Kasumi are trying to make sense of it," he replied. "But we've got bigger problems right now."
Shepard sighed, of course they did. "Lay it on me."
"Turian Command is sending over a ship to investigate."
Chakwas helps her out of her armor. By now her shoulder feels so swollen she dares not move it, and Chakwas is so efficient anyway that Shepard mostly stands there helplessly. When she is down to her undergarments she sits on the edge of the bed to be examined.
"This is the worst dislocation I have seen in a very long time," she scolded lightly, prodding here and here. She looked at Shepard right in the eye and said, "We're going to have to set it back in."
She left Shepard and came back with Thane, who must have been waiting outside if he was so readily available. He gave Shepard an appraising look, edged with concern.
"I'm fine," she told him, and his lips slightly upturned. Chakwas filled him in on the details of her injury, peppering in some basic anatomical information to better assist him in understanding what they were dealing with here. Shepard insisted she wanted to get it over with.
Thane took hold of her arm securely but tenderly. It was reassuring. Jane imparted a smile, "So, do we count to three…or—"
There was a loud 'pop' and Shepard gasped and groaned.
"That's the spirit," Chakwas chuckled, looking up from the datapad in her hands. Turned out the master assassin was as cold and forthright when it came to medical care as he was in the battlefield. Not even a voiced warning.
Shepard fell back on the bed, the pain receding. He moved closer and curled his fingers over her hand, planting a kiss on her forehead, "Glad you made it out safely, Siha."
He excused himself politely, leaving Chakwas to continue caring for the Commander. The doctor gave Shepard a look of intrigue, "Well he's certainly… dashing."
"I guess." She shrugged and regretted doing so as she still ached.
Chakwas examined her shoulder again. "Are you planning on holding onto this one?" she queried, confirming that the joint was well in its place.
"I can't say," she admitted. With things the way they were, it was hard to think long term with anything.
"I see. Well you certainly pick interesting partners," Karin patted her back with a shrewd smile. "I'll have Miss Chambers bring you a change of clothes."
Garrus Vakarian stood on the bridge in his formal attire, waiting for his temporary ship to dock. The Captain, an imposing man at least ten years his senior, joined him briefly. "So you'll be handling this yourself?"
Garrus performed the appropriate salute, then nodded. "It's best if I do."
"Using personal leverage?" The Captain said amusedly, his normally stern face placid. Garrus blinked and parted his mouth slightly, uncertain of what to say.
"I beg your pardon," the Captain muttered half-heartedly, "I merely assumed, given your willingness to go through all the trouble to deal with the matter."
"No need to apologize, Sir," Garrus mustered a thin smile. "I am here out of duty, nothing more."
"Of course." The Captain wished him the best and retreated to work out the logistical matters of dealing with a stray vessel.
Shepard stepped out of the med-bay in her uniform, courtesy of Kelly Chambers who thought to bring the most formal thing in her closet. Ashley was resting against the edge of one of the tables, reading from a datapad. She glanced up as soon as the doors opened and straightened up, managing a salute.
"You're not supposed to do that, remember?" Shepard teased lightheartedly as Ashley fell into step with her. "I'm technically not Alliance."
"Old habit, ma'am."
They entered the elevator and Jane pressed the button for the CIC. Ashley spoke up, "So are you alright?"
"Won't be using my left-hook for a while, but I'm fine."
The elevator doors opened and she stepped out.
"Our guest has arrived," Kelly informed. "He is boarding as we speak."
Shepard and Ashley exchanged harried looks. "So how much trouble do you think we're in?" Ashley asked tentatively.
"Hard to say," Shepard walked briskly to the bridge, "I did just break into one of their ships. But all things considered, they're the ones that have some explaining to do."