Heirlooms
- April, 2164
"What can you see?"
"Two Turians. Bostran Turians, related, possibly brothers, at least cousins." The girl's hair was tied back into a pony tail, as she would keep it for the rest of her life. Her eyes were covered with Mark 2 Umbra visors, which had to be manually adjusted to display distance and estimable compounding wind drag or infrared, but not both. They served their sole purpose as they were produced in children's size, being a relic of the Earth Wars, when nations within the Systems Alliance fought each other for land and resources. Her voice was steady, calm and almost monotonous, mimicking the VI of the targeting computer. "The elder, judging by the side frills, about mid thirties. The younger, early thirties, with extensive surgery. Military background or heavy merc duties. The elder, not so much."
"And?" The elder man's calm voice gently encouraged her further. Thick scent of spiced coffee filled the lightless room they shared. But both of them were accustomed to the darkness.
"They're waiting for someone. The elder is checking his omni tool frequently. Not likely communicating, too short." The girl paused a moment, gathering her thoughts. Deft fingers drummed across the controls of her visors, its old lenses straining to report enhancement as great as its fading technology could provide. "This is no simple meeting, granpa."
The elder man arched his eyebrows, but erstwhile chuckling at his granddaughter's enthusiasm that was likely to report some imaginative adventure.
"That so, Messy?" Alan Shepard chuckled.
"It's Valerie, Grandpa!" the girl pouted.
"Messy suits you." Alan chuckled as he picked up his own visors and stared across the streets.
"Alliance insignia on the tools, Grandpa." the girl pointed out. "They've traveled down the main road but tried to make erratic turns. But this time they're pausing a bit too long, avoiding the surveillance cameras. They're waiting for someone to hand over information!"
Alan Shepard began studying the Turians, at first to tell his granddaughter where she got things wrong, but then he began to look more closely. As she had told him, the nervous one was flickering on and off an omnitool that projected data emblazoned with the Alliance fleet insignia. They were avoiding surveillance cameras, though in an amateurish fashion. They weren't necessarily Turian civilians, the make out of their wardrobe betrayed current military issue lapels, like active combatants on leave.
Usually he would have dismissed anything like this. Their evening games of 'spy-craft' usually served its purpose to induce his granddaughter to study harder. But since his son's death seven years ago, and Hannah having been absent for well over an year without visiting, Alan had grown restless. His ten year old grand daughter seemed intent on spying on the Turians, and Alan decided to stretch his muscles, and pick up the milk on the way back.
"Keep me posted, HQ." He smiled, as he fished out his naval jacket.
Excited by the turn of events, Messalina almost squeeled before she caught herself and saluted.
"Aye, aye, Admiral."
The Arcturus station sported day and night cycles, to help adapt humans to space. It also adapted the standard galactic day, which meant every day was 28 hour-ish, with 20 hour days, 100 minute hours, 100 second minutes and ticking away at two seconds a 'human second'. The darkness also brought with the station a relative increase in crime, especially around the lower level housing districts where the bachelor flats bordered along the outsourced labor apartments and stocking areas.
Hannah had barely managed to bend restrictions to let her father-in-law and her daughter live in their single person apartment from Alan's retirement and John's widow fund. The irregular income from Alan's projects had dwindled as of late, and Hannah's recent CO had kicked Valerie Messalina off the ship. Hannah had barely retained her position through Emily Hayes, a family friend, on the condition that she should show her initiative by participating in the deep space colonization project.
It was easy taking Messy to school. The girl was punctual, did her own bed, did both their breakfasts, and even fed the fish before going off. The difficult part was finding a school for Messy, as most of the men and women working out on Arcturus had left their families on Earth. True 'Spacers', as they were calling those without ties to Earth, were emerging but still rare.
Alan crumpled his packet of cigarettes as he hobbled down the alley, planning to pass the Turians on the way to the convenience store, three blocks down the road to the Hub. He had spent most of his retirement getting John through Business school, but the boy had joined the 'Fight for Shanxi' during the early hooplah, only to get himself killed. Alan had managed to pay off the student loans, barely to find himself without a house on Earth. He would have died if it hadn't been for Hannah's strength and resolve to see her daughter get a better life. All Alan could do was play along, now, and babysit the girl as much as he could. But, lately with his hip in a mess, he found himself relying more and Messy than the other way around.
He passed the Turians with a nod and a good-natured smile, to which they seemed jumpy and alarmed. It was a short passing by, but Alan had noted that a few of Messy's assumptions were indeed correct. Close observation showed that they were actually from the Bahtrik region of Pallaven, from where most of the Bostran colonists originated from. However, Alan also noticed concealed sidearms, which screamed illegal activity. The omni-tool, while passing, had been turned off, but he decided he'd have a better look on the way back, possibly trying a different route.
After he had purchased the milk and cereal, he left a note for his former assistant, Lieutenant Kahoku, who was still serving at the Intelligence. The young man had been kind enough to alert his former boss of upcoming potential outsourcing analyst projects that Alan could handle, and Alan had favorably dropped in interesting tidbits that could help Kahoku along with his career.
When he finished sending the note concerning suspected Turians with Bahtrik face paint, armed and possibly dealing with fleet intel, he looked up to see that the lamp post where the Turians had lingered was now vacant. He hobbled on, passing the place where the Turians had been.
On the ground was a small flickering button, flashing orange and white LED lights. He reached down to pick it up, observing the small button curiously. He could see that it sported an emblem of sorts; a hexagonal elongated orange flanked by two similar black hexagons. Out of habit, he photographed the button, before pocketing it to move on.
He was barely five steps away, passing a dimly lit back door to a storage warehouse, when he felt a cold metalic tip of the barrel of a gun.
"Don't look, old man." the voice from the darkness was soft. Alan couldn't see the face.
"I... I'm just passing by... please I have no money..." Alan's voice trembled, as his left hand flex his grip around his cane.
"Slowly raise your hands and enter the building."
"Please..." Alan begged in a trembling voice as he slowly approached the darkness.
"Nice and easy, step inside-"
The voice was cut off as Alan whipped his cane around, and cracked the gun out of the assailant. The pistol spiraled out of the assailant's grip and skidded a few feet away. Alan gripped his cane with both hands and landed a strike down on the man in the darkness. But the man was not there. He had disappeared into the building. Alan picked up the pistol from the ground, tossing his cane aside, proceeded into the building.
The long corridor bent slightly toward the right, with light coming through the crack in the doorway. Alan could see the door creaking faintly. Cautiously he pushed the door open with his foot, just an inch to get a glimpse of what was inside.
On the floor was a body of one of the Turians, prone, a pool of blood gathering around him. Alan couldn't see the second Turian. The Omnitool would emit too much light to take readings. Alan ran his options through his head. He wasn't in his best shape, but he had managed to disarm an assailant. It would be good enough if he could leave. Messy was waiting at home.
He closed his eyes, thinking of his grand daughter, and slowly backed away from the light. Kahoku would have a field day, tomorrow. He'll have a good night's rest, for now.
He slowly turned to leave, trying to make as little noise as possible, when someone suddenly appeared before him. It was a face he recognized from the time in his services. A young lieutenant who had already garnered glaring recommendations. The handsome young man flashed a smile, not the least bit surprised to find Alan there.
"Armistan?"
It had been ten hours since Grandpa had left the building, and it was now morning. A security officer had come and gone last night, simply taking notes, and promising to tell her if he found anything. He had been gentle and polite, as she could expect anyone to be so at midnight. But he had also told her that a missing person's case was rare on Arcturus station, and that a missing person's search only began after 12 hours.
Messalina had returned to the apartment, spamming every contact and emergency hot line she could think of, but everyone had responded that they would look into it in the morning. School time had already passed and she had now begun receiving calls from school questioning why she was missing out.
Finally a chime went off at the door, with the security officer from last night.
The man looked a bit frustrated as he made his way into the apartment, himself. He was followed by Turian military officers whom he offered a seat, himself, before waving Messalina over.
Without explanation, the officer flashed a picture of her grandfather from his omni-tool.
"Is this your grandfather, girl?"
"Yes, sir. That's my grandfather." Messalina replied warily. "Did you find him?"
Without answering her questions, one of the Turian officers interrupted.
"Was your grandfather a member of the Alliance intelligence?"
The security officer looked agitated. "Sir, the man was retired. He had no recent dealings with the Alliance intelligence."
"My investigations show otherwise." the Turian replied calmly. "Tell me, girl, did your father die during the incident at Relay 314?"
Messalina looked to the human officer for help, but the officer simply urged her on. "Shanxi, girl. Was your father killed during Shanxi?"
"Yes, officer. My father John-"
"I think I get the gist of it." The Turian officer began jotting notes. "I want all the man's files from his computer at the Turian Embassy before noon."
The Turians rose to leave. The human officer, groveling, followed them to the door.
"We assure you, officers, this was not sanctioned by Alliance Intelligence."
"We'll be the judge of that." The Turians turned the corner and left.
The officer returned to the room and seated himself, burying his face in his hands.
"Do you know what your grandfather did, girl?"
"Did you find him?" snarled Messalina, finally annoyed with the sudden turn of events.
The man glared up at her. "He was found in the alley five blocks away, drunk and disheveled. He shot two Turians at point blank range. He had a brawl with them, it seems. The local bar keep said he left after causing a mess. He's still unconscious but he'll come through. Nothing serious, for him. But he'll have to answer for the murders."
- July, 2164
The Citadel seemed to sparkle. The Presidium bustling with activity.
A woman with flaming red hair and her daughter stood overlooking the extravagant lakes, neither in the mood for bewilderment. Each packed a luggage carrier beside them and stood in silence.
Alan never recalled what happened that night. The store clerk where he usually picked up necessities denied he had ever been there. But the barkeep of a strip club testified that Alan had picked a fight with two Turians before leaving the bar with them. The investigations closed rapidly, with the Alliance apologizing to the Turian hierarchy for the incident.
Alan eventually never fully recovered from the trauma, never was able to speak. A paralysis had settled in from an aneurysm that had ruptured during the brawl. As if to support the police reports, Alan suddenly found himself enjoying his liquor. His condition rapidly deteriorated until he passed away last week. Hannah had only been able to arrive from deep space last month, resigning her duties in the Second Fleet, to take care of her disabled father-in-law an daughter. But still, it had been two whole months during which Messalina had to witness up close her grandfather's decay.
After his funeral, to which only Emily Hayes had attended, Hannah cleared out Alan's belongings and took her daughter on a long trip to the Citadel. Messalina and Hannah had never been too close, but now they rarely spoke to each other. They never quarreled, but to everyone else, it seemed that they merely weathered each other's presence.
They had packed their bags and without a word, arrived at the spot. Not knowing where to go, they stood there observing the fountain making ripples in the water. The extravagance of the center of the Galaxy tried to overwhelm them, but they simply stared in absence of thought.
- July, 2186
Overlooking the lake of the Citadel Presidium, the same spot where she had stood with her mother, neither of them knowing where to go, Messalina Shepard joined Liara T'Soni with a cup of coffee in each hand.
Messalina paused for a moment, recalling the time so many years ago, when she barely reached the railings. Liara was working on something, as always. Reports flooded in like Santa's mail to the Shadow Broker. Even when they barely found time to be together, Liara would rush to her console to check up on things, issue orders, archiving.
"The Volus, Barla Von-"
"I remember." Messalina groaned as she set down the cups, kicking back. "You could congratulate me, you know."
"What for?" Liara looked genuinely puzzled, as she picked up her coffee, then suddenly remembering to pour copious amounts of syrup into it. Messalina winced at the liberty Liara took with her own brew.
"Harbinger sprung me from prison. It's good to have friends." Messalina remarked dryly before grabbing Liara's hand. "That's enough syrup."
"Oh." Liara put down the syrup container. "I don't think the Reapers purposefully-"
Messalina chuckled. "No, I bet not."
"You're joking, again." Liara sighed. "Have you talked to your mother?"
Messalina nodded. "Of course. Missed me by a couple of hours, though. Hackett asked her to join the Crucible project. She'd already cleared her office when we arrived. James knows her body guard, though."
"Lieutenant Milque."
Messalina had grown accustomed to Liara knowing everything, so she suppressed a smile to simply nod.
"She left me something in her office, though."
"Oh?" Liara opened her pad again, trying to see if she received additional alerts for the Crucible data.
But Messalina reached over and pulled her pad away from her, safely out of reach. She fished her pocket to retrieve a small metal ring, plain and unadorned. Pulling Liara's hand close to hers, she placed the ring on her finger, and an identical one on her own.
Liara looked down at the ring, touching it gently. It was a simple round golden ring. It had seen years of use, but recently been resized to fit her perfectly.
Messalina sat back, satisfied with herself, sporting a wide grin.
"What do you think?" Messalina urged, drinking her coffee.
Liara looked up, blissful smile on her lips, slightly blushing.
"That was the most unromantic proposal, Shepard."
"Oh." Messalina frowned, scratching her head. "I thought about dropping it in your coffee, but I know how long it takes you to drink that."
"Thank you." Liara smiled. "I love you, too."
Messalina just smiled, as if she were patting herself on the back.
"Miranda couldn't be contacted." Liara sighed, still looking at her ring.
"I got in touch." Messalina shrugged. Miranda had spoken to her through a piggy backed communication in the solitude of the Spectre's Terminal. She had apologized for not being able to join Shepard, that pressing matters had emerged. The look in Miranda's eyes was in stark contrast to the bright zealous agent she had first met. Miranda spoke about Oriana, and how keeping her remaining sister safe was too important for her to let go.
"I see." Liara nodded, knowingly. "Well, I suppose it's just us, then."
"Not just us," Messalina smiled, reaching out to hold Liara's hand. "Not any more."