A/N: Damn it, I knew my fear of dentists was completely rational. After having a tooth pulled, my dentist spectacularly failed at stopping all that leaking blood, so I ended up in a hospital for several hours. Ow.
In other news, no Shep and Liara in this chapter, sorry. They will return to rescue Javik on Saturday. :)
Chapter 59 - While They Were Gone
A tentative shadow falls on the doors of Liara's quarters aboard the Normandy. There is a slender shape of a young woman, fearfully looking around, trying to overhear whether someone is approaching. Satisfied that nobody is nearby, with her eyes darting around nervously, guilty, yet curious expression on her face, she attempts to enter Liara's quarters, finding the door locked.
"Of course. That would have been too easy," Specialist Samantha Traynor mutters under her breath. The shuttle carrying the asari together with Commander Shepard and EDI's new, incredibly sexy platform, have left an hour ago to do battle with Cerberus on Eden Prime, and she knows this would be the perfect opportunity to... explore, but circumstances have conspired to keep her at bay.
What is she hiding in there? Specialist Traynor muses. The power draw from these quarters is enormous. And why does the Commander allow for an alien on her ship to get up to something so... suspicious?
"Right, let's try this..." Traynor checks her omni-tool, attempting to override the door security and forcing them open, but to no avail. "What the... this kind of encryption on a simple door?" she blinks. "That asari is either insanely paranoid or she's keeping something of incredible value in there."
Traynor is about to upload a far more complex hacking program, when suddenly EDI's voice interrupts her frantic attempts. "Specialist Traynor. Would you be so kind to explain your actions?" the ship's AI asks in her delightfully impassionate voice.
"I, ah... was merely curious and... thought that I..." Traynor squeaks nervously, taken by surprise. "Umm, you were supposed to be very busy fighting Cerberus, EDI..."
"While 80% of my processing power is diverted to my platform engaged in the ground mission, I have enough resources at my disposal to detect suspicious activity on the crew deck," EDI says meaningfully. "Please, return to the bridge immediately," the AI adds, and Traynor finds herself immediately obeying the command, even if she briefly wonders why she does so. EDI's place in the chain of command is completely undefined, and she should not be allowing an AI to just order her around, yet somehow she can't bring herself to protest.
It must be that disarming voice, she weakly grins at herself, entering the elevator. It is almost more enchanting than Shepard's. I can't quite place the Commander's accent. I heard she grew up as a spacer kid, they usually end up speaking in a strange mix of accents. Strange, but... so compelling.
"I'm sorry, EDI, I was just... worried and concerned," she speaks, approaching the holographic image of EDI, hovering next to Joker.
"I would venture a guess that Commander Shepard would be highly disapproving of your attempts to intrude in Dr. T'Soni's private quarters," EDI tells her. "I will not report it if you guarantee that this will not happen again."
"Mmm, delicious blackmail material," Joker spins around in his chair, giving her one of those annoying knowing grins of his.
"I know I shouldn't have tried that," Traynor confesses. "But you have to admit some of the arrangements on this ship are highly irregular."
"You don't say," Joker rolls his eyes. "Have you checked out my co-pilot?" he grins at EDI.
Oh boy, have I, Traynor thinks, blushing slightly. "I... accede your point, but... I do not understand just how an asari XO fits in on an Alliance ship."
"Well, Shepard isn't simply an Alliance officer, she's also a Council Spectre," Joker shrugs. "They have a way of playing loose with the hierarchy, so don't expect her to stick too closely with Alliance regs. Good rule of thumb is to listen to Shepard when she's aboard, and to me when she's not," he adds with a crooked grin.
"It is never a good idea to listen to Jeff," EDI says, forcing Joker to sigh. "I believe Shepard once said that Dr. T'Soni will speak in her absence and, if you wish to hear the exact quote 'anyone who has a problem with that is welcome to get the fuck off my ship'."
"Why does she trust this asari so much?" Traynor asks, feeling a tinge of annoyance. "And whatever it is in her quarters that requires such secrecy?"
"I think Liara brought some crazy tech aboard just to analyze that Prothean device. She probably doesn't want anyone to mess with it," Joker explains. "As for why Shepard trusts Liara so much... let me just put it this way. Have you ever watched 'Vaenia'?"
Traynor feels heat flushing her cheeks. "I, ah... might have heard of it," she says timidly.
"You should watch it," Joker grins broadly. "Hey, maybe we could watch it together? I'd explain everything to you in great detail. I'm sure EDI could fly the ship on her own for a few hours."
"Not with most of my resources allocated to my platform on Eden Prime," EDI replies.
"That would be completely inappropriate, Flight-Lieutenant," Traynor straightens her back, giving Joker an attempted disapproving stare, but the pilot just deflects it with his usual humor. I should have realized that was the reason. Dammit, Traynor, you probably were your usual blind cow and missed all the signs.
"You two are absolutely no fun," Joker grumbles, turning around and resuming his staring at the consoles.
"Requesting permission to return to my post," Traynor says thinly, wondering why she is even asking. As far as the pecking order of Spectre Shepard, I'm probably down at the very bottom, anyway, she thinks.
"Granted," EDI replies after Joker has seemingly lost all interest in their conversation. "Now, Specialist Traynor, to avoid you getting involved in any more mischief, there is something that I would like you to take a look at. Please check the incoming and outgoing communications of the Grissom Academy over the past forty-eight hours, and then tell me what you think."
"Grissom Academy? I will investigate immediately," Samantha Traynor rushes off, mentally chiding herself. Traynor, if you want to leave a positive impression on the Commander, first do your job well, instead of second-guessing where she places her trust and spying on her closest friends...
'I love you. But I know you. Don't make me an anchor. Promise me, Steve.' Tears stream down the face of Lt. Steven Cortez, as he continues to watch the vid recording of his husband Robert, finding it impossible to switch it off, to toss it aside, even if he knows he has to.
Suddenly, an opened, dew-covered bottle of cold beer is placed on a panel right before him, and Steve swiftly turns his head to see Lt. James Vega standing there, holding a beer bottle of his own, shaking his head. "At it again, eh, Esteban?" he says reproachfully. "You should have never taken that recording from Ferris Fields, I keep telling you that. Now it just won't let you move on."
"C'mon, Vega, playing a shrink doesn't fit you," Steve snaps angrily, wiping the tears off his cheeks, but at least he puts the recording away, eventually reaching out and grabbing the bottle. "What if I don't want to move on?"
"Don't need to be a shrink to know this isn't good for you, Esteban," Vega says. "Just don't want you to make some kind of mistake when out in the field because your head wasn't clear."
"When I'm flying, I'm there for 100%, you know that Vega," Cortez gives James an angry stare. "Wasn't me who crashed that shuttle on Mars, now was it?"
"To save the day, pendejo!" James exclaims brashly. "Listen, Commander plans to turn this bird around after we're done here and hit the Citadel. It wouldn't hurt you to get off the ship once in a while, eh? I could even show you some of the best spots for fun."
"Will you go away if I agree?" Cortez sighs deeply.
"Hah, that would be telling," James laughs. "Seriously, do as I say, or I'll have the Commander come down here and drag you off the ship by pulling on your ears."
"You'd tell her?" Steve narrows his eyes dangerously. "She'd throw me off the ship if she knew about my issues... Vega, don't you dare do this to me! I thought we were friends."
"We are," James says. "If we weren't friends, I wouldn't be concerned and we wouldn't be having this conversation."
"Damn you," Steve curses. "Fine, have it your way."
"Excellent," Vega grins, rubbing his hands in anticipation. He then looks around the shuttle bay thoughtfully. "Kinda feels wrong not having the Kodiak around. Must be so weird for you, I mean you are always flying it, probably never even seen how the bay looks without the Kodiak in it."
"Well, if a big and angry krogan wants to pilot your shuttle, you just don't say no," Cortez says, shrugging his shoulders. "Already tried that on Sur'Kesh, he just pulled me out of the pilot's seat and tossed me in the back."
Vega laughs wholeheartedly. "Wrex seems like a badass alright," he says. "I bet he has all sorts of awesome stories to tell."
"Let's just say that I have never seen anyone attempting a ten yard airdrop on the back of an Atlas mech..." Cortez can't stop himself from smiling at the shocked expression on Vega's face.
"Da-yum! I'm not surprised Commander wanted to take him along for this mission instead of me!" James exclaims.
"Missing the action, are we Vega?"
"Could say that," James nods. "But, at least the Commander explained her reasoning. Said I'll see plenty of action before this is all over. Guess I'll have to trust Lola on that. Don't want to think about it, but... casualties and injuries are to be expected before we are done with the Reapers. Just look at that last mission, Scars almost caught another rocket with his face."
Cortez pales a little. "I will not think like that, Vega. I've grown... attached to them all already, I couldn't possibly think that..."
"Yeah, don't want to think that way, either. Still, sometimes you have to wonder..." James then raises the beer bottle. "Anyway, bottoms up!"
Lt. Steve Cortez nods grimly, before following Vega's example.
Dr. Karin Chakwas sighs quietly, sitting at a computer console in her quiet little corner of the medbay. Most of her time on the ship is spent there all by herself, and she is generally thankful for this kind of solitude, having one of her 'children' injured and kept in the medbay is not her preferred way to address the selfish need for company. And now, all of a sudden, she is surrounded by three aliens with completely differing personalities.
There is Mordin, the salarian doctor, in a sense her colleague, but while Chakwas has on a few occasions inquired about his work, Mordin's explanations have been polite but short, clearly indicating his preference to focus on the task at hand and avoid any distractions. The salarian clearly believes that she can't be of any help in his undertaking, and she accepts it without feeling professionally snubbed. Genophage cure is not a laughing matter, and it is understandable that someone like Dr. Solus would not wish to share the weight of this responsibility with anyone else. If only he would stop singing, maybe then I could get some of my own work done, Karin Chakwas sighs as Mordin starts one of his tunes again.
Then there is Eve, the burly krogan female, grumpy but otherwise likable, even if she does not talk much. They have had to press together three of the beds to create a comfortable resting bunk for her, and she is now sleeping, snoring loudly, in a way providing back vocals to Mordin's singing.
Lastly, there is Garrus, the turian always facing her with a long-suffering stare in hopes that her heart will melt and that she will release him from his confinement to bed rest. Of course, he has also tried to sneak out of the medbay four times already, forcing Chakwas to threaten him with using straps to make sure that her reckless patient doesn't wander around too much. Seriously, he's even worse than Shepard, I couldn't imagine that was even possible.
Fortunately, for once Garrus is not faking sleep, he has actually dozed off, allowing Chakwas to finally check through her correspondence and catalogue some of the medical records, boring administrative work that she has been delaying for too long. She is curious to see a very recent reply from her colleague in the Shalta Wards R&D labs, Dr. Palmer. Almost frantically her eyes pass over the lines of the included report.
...(analyzed implants from the corpses retrieved from the Mars Archives) ... (surprised by request to cross-reference with Shepard's implants) ... (implants used on rank troopers appear completely different at first glance) ... (thorough analysis reveals several identical components) ... (Reaper technology strongly implied)
Chakwas takes a deep breath, wiping a few beads of perspiration from her forehead, almost not wanting to read any further, but knowing that she simply has to. Shepard deserves to know the truth. And they all must know whether she is truly free from the grasp of Cerberus.
...(purpose behind implants fundamentally different) ... (recovered on Mars intended to enhance physical capabilities, several components provide opportunities to allow remote control)... (cannot find any such components amongst Shepard's implants) ... (the function behind some of Commander's modifications remains unclear) ... (require more data) ... (possibly boosts speed of tissue regeneration, suspicion only) ... (observe unusually fast recovery from injuries?)
Karin Chakwas slips deep in her thoughts, feeling only slightly relieved. Shepard has always been fairly fortunate as far as serious injuries are concerned, mostly due to the nature of her preferred way of engaging the enemy, using stealth and infiltration, staying clear of the frontlines. There was that one time where she was seriously wounded on Ilium, Chakwas remembers it well. She had expected Shepard to be out of the action for several days, she had proscribed forty-eight hours of bed rest, but that red-maned devil had been prancing around after twelve hours, and much to her dismay, Chakwas had been forced to admit that her injuries had already healed.
I guess that qualifies as unusually fast recovery, she thinks at herself, pulling the old record of that incident, all the relevant data readings and attaches the file to her reply to Dr. Palmer, asking him to continue his investigation. I will not rest until I know exactly what Cerberus did to you, Shepard, she promises to herself. I owe that much to you, child.
Garrus carefully opens one eye, watching the movements of Dr. Chakwas. She has just risen from her seat at the computer and appears to be yawning, likely considering getting a few hours of rest. Suddenly, she swirls around quickly to stare at him and the eye snaps shut immediately. Did she notice? Spirits, I hope not.
There are more rustling sounds of Dr. Chakwas' lab coat as she steps up to his bed and leans down just to make sure, and Garrus attempts to relax and breathe deeply, trying to fool the good doctor of being fast asleep. Eventually, Chakwas appears convinced and retreats, walking out of the medbay. Garrus waits for a few more minutes, knowing how sneaky Karin Chakwas can be, she has already caught him twice when he got out of the bed immediately after she had left, quickly returning to catch him in his crime.
This time, it seems that Chakwas is not about to return and Garrus slips out of the bed and approaches the computer console, switching it back on. The krogan is still sleeping and snoring and not even an elcor chorus could distract Mordin from his research, everyone ignores him and Garrus is free to spend a few minutes poking around the extranet, before the spiking headache forces him to quit and crawl back to the bed.
First he checks the few extranet sites they both visit and occasionally use to keep touch, when possible. The depressing pattern repeats itself. 'Chikktikka_24, last online 103 days ago', 'Chikkiewikkie_2161 has been offline for 103 days', 'Fastpaws24, account deleted due to inactivity'. 'No new messages for Snagglepuss29' .
Garrus sighs deeply. That's the last time I'm letting her pick nicknames for me. Not that I'm much better myself... Archangel. He sighs again. Nah, who am I kidding. If you were here, I'd let you pick whatever names you want for me, my Chiktikka. If only I knew where you are now...
He browses a few more sites quickly, starting to feel that irritating tingle in his temples, knowing the headache is approaching fast. The next extranet page requires an authorization to access the C-Sec records of turian refugees arriving on the Citadel. Quickly he does a search for the name 'Vakarian', but comes up empty.
The next and last site is one that he absolutely loathes to browse. Lists of confirmed casualties on Palaven. Probably listing only one fifth of those dead, if not less, he thinks grimly, his fingers struggling to enter his family name in the search criteria. He hesitates just briefly before hitting the search button. The wait takes agonizing twenty seconds that feel like twenty minutes if not more.
"No match found," beeps the console and he exhales in relief. His hopes might die one day, he is keenly aware of that. But it won't be today.
"Spirits, please," he whispers, switching off the console and pressing his head against the cool surface of the desk. "I have never asked anything of you, but please... keep them safe..."