Homecoming
Liberties taken with Citadel: Homecoming and a few other things. Made up some "racial" terms for the various aliens, except, of course, "jellies". Wasn't very creative about it, but, meh, most racism isn't anyway. This chapter has taken on an omniscient POV and jumps around from brain to brain a lot. Just a heads-up so there won't be so much confusion. This was a difficult chapter for some reason.
The Presidium was currently entering its nighttime cycle; the glow of the artificial sunset cast the lounge in an orange glow as members of different species' diplomatic corps milled about and chatted. For such a relatively small area, the room was packed with the Council and Non-Council Races alike. Thankfully, Ash and Joker had found a table overlooking the Presidium. A generated breeze wafted the area, keeping the temperature pleasant. The two Normandy crewmembers could see the financial district from across the brightly lit lake.
And Ash? Ash wanted to cry. It was such a girly thing, but, nonetheless, there it was. She couldn't remember ever being so bored, and she had been posted groundside most of her military career because of her name. In fact, this past month had been the most eventful of her entire career. Patrols were never fun, but this… this was… was stupid! You drank to relax. How was this relaxing? There was no music, the room was filled with snooty… aliens—there were only two or three humans out of a whole horde of crown heads, fish heads, stinkers, chubbers, and jellies—and they were all talking in hushed tones…well, except the jellies; they had that shimmer language of theirs. It wasn't even like the room was crowded, and the lounge was full of bodies.
There could at least be some noise!
She huffed and stirred the hot pink drink in front of her, stabbing at the floating bright red cherry with the little green sword that came with it. Asari Slurpy, the bartender said. Good, he said. The only thing good about the Asari Slurpy was the cherry and the little green sword. It was sweet and sour with a spicy kick at the end: some kind of veggie-fruit drink with too much sugar and too much spice. Like a badly mixed Bloody Mary with a melon flavor that set your mouth on fire.
Yuck. Her suspicions were now confirmed that asari had no taste. That was how they could have sex with anything and everything. She was sure of it. Damn fish heads.
Beside her Joker shifted in his seat. "You've popped that thing a couple of times now, Williams," he commented drily from over the rim of his glass, his eyes twinkling. "Trying to tell me something?"
She rolled her eyes. Couldn't he come up with something less obvious? Joker was weird. She couldn't tell if he was flirting or just being a flirt. He took a swig of his drink, another asari concoction, and made a face. The drink was two-tones of blue and they had already played "trade me" once. Ash liked his and would order it next time. It reminded her of cherry limeade but it had a kick to it at the end. This Asari Slurpy was disgusting.
Ash turned her head and opened her mouth to speak and when she saw the Commander, the Lieutenant, and Wrex walk into the lounge, her mouth dropped open further. They looked like they had gotten into it and Wrex was the winner.
Wondering what had made the normally talkative Chief lose her words, Joker's eyes travelled across the room to where Williams was staring. "Looks like they had more fun than we did," he commented drily, noting with some disbelief that the Alliance Marines' clothing was torn. Of course, fun isn't exactly what he would call it—especially if it had been him. Both officers had bloodied lips, bruises and cuts in various places. Medi-gel was heavily applied to both their faces. And was that blood on their uniforms?
Wrex was with them. Well, for a minute anyway. The krogan promptly stomped over to the bar. All sound in the room stopped as patrons stared at the trio but Joker wasn't sure if they were staring at the filthy Alliance Marines or the krogan. It was probably both.
"Nice shiner," Joker complimented Alenko as he sat heavily. The helmsman noted with some discomfort that the biotic's pupils were undulating, a sign that Joker took as Alenko being higher than a hanar. What the hell? He was sure that was more against Regs than fraternizing was. Surely, he wouldn't— He never would have suspected Alenko of drug abuse. The last biotic he had served with had had an addiction and had gone on a mission under its influence. Joker never wanted to see the results again. Gautier and Gautier's team had been completely decimated because of mistakes and slow response times.
"What the hell happened?" Williams demanded her dark eyes travelling over each of them. Joker got the distinct impression that the Chief felt left out. He couldn't figure out why anyone would want to get the shit kicked out of them, but, hey, to each his—or in Williams' case, her—own. He supposed he could smack her a few times with one of his crutches to make her feel better…
Alenko slurred something incomprehensible, and Shepard looked at him sharply. "Maybe you should head back to the barracks, Lieutenant," she suggested softly. "I'll buy two rounds for everyone tonight. You can make it up to us next Liberty."
He shook his head stubbornly and Joker wondered if the man had realized that he had disobeyed an order—Shepard never really suggested anything. Probably not. Before he could open his mouth to comment, Wrex joined them at the table holding what looked like orange juice in his hand.
"Asari Slurpy?" the krogan asked, pointing at the drink in front of Williams with one of his three thick fingers. Wrex seemed… perturbed. He looked at the Commander. "Told you that's all they have," he grumbled, sinking down in the empty chair.
"So, are you going to brief us in on what we missed, Skipper?" Williams asked looking first at Alenko then the krogan and finally the Commander.
Shepard scowled in Wrex's general direction. "Negotiations were not a success," she supplied archly.
"Ookay," Joker drawled shifting in his chair. "Thanks for filling us in, Commander."
It surprised him that Wrex was the one to tell them about the fight in the lower markets. He shrugged as he finished, "Not much of fight. Damn pup thought he was Puntax. Now he's just silver dog grub." The big reptilian looked at Alenko with one eye and then the other and nodded, the corner of his mouth tipping up. "The Lieutenant got through his shields with an itty bitty knife."
Williams gave a low whistle a grin splitting her face. "Damn, L.T., remind me not to turn my back on you." The grin faded as she noticed Alenko wasn't saying anything.
Joker gazed at Alenko. "So what's wrong with Kaidan?" he asked.
"Migraine med," Shepard said, put a hand on Alenko's arm and seemed distressed when the Lieutenant didn't respond right away. When Alenko did respond it was sluggish, his eyes staring sightlessly at Shepard's hand for a few beats before grinning up at her like a little kid who just found out that he was getting a new toy. The Commander frowned slightly and removed her hand. Joker shared a look with Williams over their respective glasses. They were both going to have work on rumor control when they got back to the ship.
"The Lieutenant is knocked up," Wrex supplied, and Joker nearly snorted his drink. Ash, who had been quietly sipping hers, choked.
"Knocked for a loop, Wrex," Shepard corrected over the choking sounds of her crew.
The burly krogan shrugged. "Orange, blue, pink," he stated pointing at each of their drinks, then he indicated the translator built into his armor. "Same thing: The ability to get 'piss-faced' as you humans say." He gulped down his orange-colored liquor and then got up from the table. "Shepard," he grumbled and stamped away.
"Wrex." Shepard's eyes followed the big krogan as he left the Lounge then came to rest on Kaidan again. For the Nth time she wished they were in hardsuits. Then she could interface directly with his suit's VI and get a diagnosis of his condition.
"Do you think it'll wear off soon?" Williams asked, poking the Lieutenant a few times with the little green sword that came with her drink. He didn't appear to feel it. Shepard shrugged shaking her head. She knew basic first aid and how to field dress a wound. When it came to pharmaceuticals she was SOL.
"Two drinks and we're out of here," she said and looked at her subordinate, "Williams, I think you and I might have to carry him out of here.
Ash frowned, "Yes, ma'am." The Chief hoped the nearly unconscious man didn't throw up on her. Kaidan looked a little green. She opened her mouth to make a sarcastic comment but there was suddenly a loud ruckus across the room and the three coherent officers turned to see what the commotion was all about.
"But she is my wife!" a middle-aged dark-skinned man shouted at a younger pale-skinned man. "I demand you release her body!" His rich Indian accent carried through the bar and, as with the Alliance Marines and Wrex' entrance, most of the patrons' conversations stopped. The younger man was backing away.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Bhatia," he said in placating manner, "what has happened to you is truly tragic, but I can't help you."
Bhatia? Ash was on her feet and striding towards the two immediately. Is that who I think it is?
"You will release—" the man named Mr. Bhatia began.
The Commander, whom Ash didn't realize had followed her, spoke up, cutting off his tirade, "Is there a problem here?"
The younger man recognized her immediately. "My goodness! You're Commander Shepard!" Ash thought the young man might wet himself. He didn't seem very much older than her or the Commander.
Shepard crossed her arms and nodded.
"Clerk Bosker, ma'am," he introduced himself, extending his hand. The Commander looked at his manicured hand a moment before taking it her own giving it a shake and a squeeze.
"Your exploits on Terra Nova and your induction into the Spectres have made for quite the briefing in the diplomatic corps," Clerk Bosker told her, immediately massaging his hand after she released him. It was the only indication that she might have been a little forceful in her grip.
Shepard's copper eyes cut to the other man. "And you are?"
"My name is Samesh Bhatia," he said, giving a respectful nod, "It is an honor to meet you, Commander." He glared at Bosker. "My wife was a marine. The Alliance is keeping my wife's body from me. She deserves a proper burial!"
Ash started at that.
"I told you, Mr. Bhatia, it's out of my—"
"Hold it," the Commander spoke up. "Why would the Alliance keep a body?"
The Clerk sighed. "Private Bhatia served and died on Eden Prime. Her body received wounds that are inconsistent with anything we have ever seen."
"Eden Prime?" the Chief echoed and looked at the other man. "Your wife was Private Nirali Bhatia?" The stately man nodded. "I'm Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams. I served in her unit."
Samesh smiled kindly at Ash. "Chief Williams, it is a pleasure. Nirali spoke of you with great respect." He sounded genuinely happy to see her.
It sounded so hollow, but she said it anyway. "I'm so sorry for your loss, Mr. Bhatia." She swallowed. If she could have done anything to save the woman, she would have. Now she realized what Bosker meant by her wounds. The husk of Nirali had been one of the first creatures that had charged them when they reached the research camp; Kaidan had been the one to take her out with seven rapid shots to the chest with his Kessler. Ash had frozen. She shut her eyes against the memory, compartmentalizing. Deal with it later. "Nirali was a good woman," she told him quietly. "What can we do for you?"
Samesh's eyes tightened. "I've requested that my wife's body be returned to me for cremation, but the military has refused my request."
"Why did the military refuse your request?" the Commander asked her eyes cutting to those of Clerk Bosker. "There's got to be some reason."
"I don't know." Samesh glared again at the clerk. "They have declared it impossible for my wife to be returned to me!" He looked ready to punch Bosker. Ash wanted to step back and let the man.
"Is the body dangerous or contaminated?" Shepard asked suddenly. Ash's eyes cut to her commander. No, please, God, no… Surely the Commander wouldn't side with the Alliance with this one. Marines took care of their own.
"No, no," Bosker assured them, and Shepard relaxed, "Nothing like that. But, you have to understand that the circumstances surrounding the decision are classified."
Shepard nodded as she thought of what to do, her thoughts unwillingly returning to Mindoir and the bureaucratic assholes who had kept her parents' bodies for their studies, citing "on-going investigation" as their excuse. It had taken four years to get her parents back for burial, and that was after Anderson had pulled strings for her. "Williams, buy Mr. Bhatia a drink and take him back to our table. Mr. Bosker and I are going to chat."
"The Commander will set this right," Williams assured the grieving widower as they walked off.
Shepard's neutral face morphed into a scowl once the others were out of earshot. Mr. Bosker rubbed the back of his neck. "Mr. Bhatia is good man in an understandably frustrating position. I wish that I could help him," he admitted.
"It would help if I had a little more information to go on," Shepard replied and he sighed and nodded.
"Like I told you, Private Bhatia's wounds are inconsistent with any type of weapons damage we've seen before," he explained. "That is why her body is being held. She is not dangerous. Her body is, in fact, extremely valuable to the Alliance. The tests we're conducting may lead to better defenses against geth attacks. Respectfully, Private Bhatia may save more lives in death than she did in life."
Better defenses. Shepard was torn. How many had died because they were unprepared for the geth? It didn't make it right, but— She ran a hand through her hair as she thought of Jenkins and the few colonists she and her team had run into groundside on Eden Prime. God. Casualties on Eden Prime had been high: the highest civilian and marine combined casualty rate since Shanxi. And they got new figures and counts daily. They were at some forty thousand in civilian casualties now and rising. Most of the Snake Eye marine battalion had been wiped out. The two-one-two, the two-one-three and the two-one-nine detachments only had few members left and had been integrated into the other units of the Snake Eye.
Smoke and death, Kaidan had commented. Shepard's odd-colored eyes reflected the orange hue of the waning artificial sunset as they travelled across the room to the subject of her thoughts who was slumped over in his chair. Mr. Bhatia was chatting with Williams and Joker.
On the other hand, holding bodies was wrong. Mr. Bhatia was clearly hurting, and she remembered the frustration and pain she had gone through with her parents' bodies—though she knew that the material used in the ablative coating on most hardsuits made for military use was the direct results of the study. If she hadn't been serving under Captain—then Commander—Anderson, she was sure it would have taken longer. Where was the humanity in humanity? Feros had proven that humans cared little for one another. She supposed she'd be out of job if everyone loved each other though.
And though Commander Shepard had never met the woman, Private Bhatia had been a marine. Marines took care of their own. It was something that was done. You never left anyone behind. You never let them take their lumps alone. If one fucked up, the whole unit paid for it.
So it came down to did she pull strings and bring the body home, or did she just walk away and let them keep other Marines from suffering the same fate? Catch 22, Calleigh.
"You've got to have a lot of bodies," she said as she ran the figures through her hair again and remembered how many husks there were at the space port alone. "Can't you release one?"
Bosker's answer was frustrating. "Very few bodies have this new type of weapons damage. And very few were in good enough condition to study. Beyond that, Commander, we need as many bodies as we can to get a reasonable sample size."
She nodded and blew out a breath. "How long do you think the research is going to take?"
"This is a long-term study. I wouldn't expect the bodies to be released for a year or longer."
Shepard liked that answer even less. Telling Samesh that his wife wouldn't be released for more than a year… "When will this research result in actual new technology?"
Bosker looked uncomfortable. "If we're lucky," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "we'll realize usable technology from this study in a few years."
Years.
Shepard took a breath and made up her mind.