'EDI, where is Fai... Shepard?'
She is currently in the armoury.
What could she be doing? I expected her perhaps to be exercising, or possibly checking up on some of the crew... but the armoury? It has been largely deserted since the Collector assault, and Jacob's demise, so busy have we been with the war preparations.
'Bring the elevator to the loft please, I would like to see her.'
Very well, Doctor T'Soni.
It is most unlike her to leave me alone like this - whilst I by no means require her presence to begin my day, nor she me awake to begin hers - her usual effort in staying with me until we are both awake is touching, and I did miss her this morning. I awoke earlier than usual - did her absence somehow disturb me? I have heard rare stories of asari developing deep bonds with their mates before, able to sense a faint shadow of their emotions even without a meld, but I have not felt such with Faith... would it only work when I sleep? For all of the wisdom the asari posses, there is still so much we do not know, both about ourselves and aliens.
The ship is still in its "morning" cycle, with the lights dimmed, and as EDI drops me off on the second deck, I am struck again by how lonely the ship is, without a full crew. I can see Joker in the bridge, legs propped up on the co-pilot's chair as he sleeps in his own, cap pulled down over his face, but otherwise the CIC is an eerie echo of what such a place should be; the effect amplified as the vast arrays of monitors still flicker with life, as if the ghosts of the dead crew are still at their stations.
Shaking my head to clear the ridiculous thoughts, I make the short journey to the armoury. Faith is standing before the pistol locker, bent over at the waist, rummaging into its depths, providing a rather tempting view as the well fitted uniform clings to -
'There you are!' It takes a moment to realise she is not talking to me as she straightens, then without looking turns away and strides to the weapon modification bench, clutching an unknown item.
'Faith?'
She stiffens, before turning, face brightening as it only does when she sees me.
'Oh, good morning!' She glances to her wrist, before catching my gaze again. Her upbeat greeting does not fool me: I can see her scars have deepened, and her eyes are flecked with red. She is angry, or upset with something. What has she been doing? 'Sorry, I thought you'd be asleep for a while yet.'
'No... what is wrong?' My bare feet make no noise as I cross the room to join her at the modification table. A pair of pistols and a sniper rifle are laid out on it, much smaller calibre than she usually prefers: in fact, she does not usually carry such a long range weapon at all, preferring instead to rely on her marksmanship using an assault rifle fitted with a scope.
'What are you doing?' My gut churns uncomfortably at the sight. She is preparing for combat.
'I've got a mission.' She finally straightens and faces me properly. 'It's the big one, Liara. Admiral Hackett from the Alliance called: he says one of his operatives found proof of the Reapers. I need to go and get his agent out from batarian prison, secure the artefact she found and we'll finally have what we need!'
I do not like the way she phrases her mission. 'You need to go?'
Her gaze dips, and she turns back to the bench. 'Yes. The admiral said he'd help staff the Normandy if I went in quiet, alone, to avoid an incident with the batarians. We'll get our comms specialist, shuttle pilot and a damned good soldier this way.'
Going to the Alliance was my idea, but she sounds much too casual: she never approaches her work casually. 'I do not like the thought of you going alone into hostile territory.'
She glances up at me, before resuming her attaching of long, thick silencers to all of the weapons. 'Neither do I. I'd rather just get the artefact and get out, or go in against the batarians with guns blazing.'
'Have you been trained for this form of mission?'
'N7 training covers just about every type of mission you can imagine.'
And she excelled no doubt: at the point in her life, all that mattered was her work. But... Goddess... I do not relish the thought of her leaving me again on another dangerous mission. Her assault against the Collector base was hard to deal with, but this... she will be alone, facing down a race that still demonises her for her actions on Torfan.
Suddenly she sighs, and drops the weaponry she is holding, leaning forward over the bench. 'Damn. That's not what you're talking about, is it? I'm sorry, Liara, I really am. I'm not used to... this.'
'W... what do you mean?'
'It's going to be dangerous. Very dangerous. I'll be infiltrating the space of a species that hates me, and there'll be no backup. I can't risk them picking up any trace of a human ship, so I'm going to have to board a civilian transport there from outside the system, without them noticing I'm on board. I can probably sneak in without trouble, but actually rescuing the prisoner is not likely to be a quiet job. If I'm not careful I'll have to fight my way out, dragging a person behind me who's been starved and tortured, hijacking one of the batarians' own vehicles to escape.'
She glances up from the table, still clutching the edges. 'I'm not used to... having someone worry about me.'
I knew when I first acknowledged my feelings for Faith that she would never compromise her duty for me - indeed I encouraged her not to - but the thought of her leaving again still pains me. And I cannot even accompany her: She seems intent on honouring the Alliance admiral's request that she goes alone.
But I am relieved that she is being open about it with me. I would rather know all of the risks, so I can assist as best I can, than have her lie and give me false reassurance. The war will already put so many stresses on our relationship; neither of us will allow deception between us to be one of them. One of her hands is gripping the bench near me: I rest my own over it. 'Is there anything I can do? I suspect my information on batarian space is more comprehensive than the Alliance's.'
She looks up, and nods gratefully, shifting her hand to fully take my own. 'I'd like some information about the place she's being held. As much intel as you can find. Structural schematics. Duty shift rotations. Size, training, and equipment quality of the garrison.'
There it is, as always. Her clear minded drive, crushing down whatever doubts those around her have, crushing down the doubts I know constantly plague her thoughts and dreams. She steps back, looks at a problem and decides exactly what she needs to resolve it.
And with that, it gives hope. That if everybody does their part, they can pull through.
It is why she is the woman she is: everybody feels fear and doubts. I feel them, every time I look at a decision that needs making; the worry that I am doing the wrong thing, that I am causing more harm than good, that there might be a better way I just do not see.
But being able to work beyond the doubts and whispers, when the stakes are the life and death of a galaxy, to stand and lead... that takes something more than most people have.
'Of course, Faith.'
I can also hopefully organise a transport there for her that will not arouse suspicion, and I will investigate the possibilities of providing distractions during her escape: perhaps I can sabotage the facility's power, or fake an "accident" at the colony that demands the soldiers' attention so their priorities are torn. But I will ensure I can actually deliver those things before promising them.
Suddenly her eyes brighten, and I see a tiny smile tug at her lips, the small gesture relieving some of my own tension. 'Also, I don't think my usual armour is... suitable... for an infiltration mission. I think there's something else you could help with.'
The Normandy had always been a quiet ship: for the first few nights on board the SR1, Tali actually had trouble sleeping. But with the crew severely depleted, and the ship having been idly orbiting Hagalaz for some time now, engines running at minimum, the emptiness of the ship was all the more pronounced.
Shepard had given Tali the responsibility to look after the ship during the retrofits.
Full responsibility.
The ship would be docked, and not likely to encounter anything more serious than a dropped armour plate landing on somebody's foot or minor shield malfunction during testing, but she was still nervous. Her previous commands, on Freedom's Progress and Haestrom, had led to slaughters.
She would prefer Garrus, or anybody else take the role, but Shepard was trusting her. She would do her best... but something had occurred to her, something she needed to talk to somebody about. Shepard, Liara and Garrus were down on the Broker's ship again, preparing to send Shepard off on a mission which the trio were hoping could finally kick start the galaxy into action against the Reapers. Ken and Gabby would be too busy to do what she wanted, and Doctor Chakwas and Kelly did not have the right knowledge.
That left the Normandy's pilot, who seemed to be laughing maniacally in the cockpit as she approached.
'Did you see that EDI? Damn, they didn't know what hit them! Ha I bet the grease monkeys wouldn't be pleased if I actually did that, it'd take them days to fix the engine!'
I saw. The manoeuvre was reckless and dangerous, pushing the ship far beyond recommended safety parameters. I do not believe it would work outside of simulations.
Oh Keelah, what's he doing to my ship?
'You said that about my little ship-pong stunt through the Omega 4 Relay, and look how that turned out!' Joker responded, far too cheerfully in Tali's opinion. He had actually dented the Normandy's hull by bouncing off some debris to shift the ship's momentum at a pace no engines could manage, and it had taken her hours of hard, uncomfortable labour to fix.
You suffered eight simple fractures, one compound fracture and a severe compression fracture.
The pilot made a flippant gesture, as Tali simply watched the pair argue about what seemed to be a successful combat simulation.
'Bah, details. I won!'
Your "details" concluded with me seeing you naked in the med-bay, Jeff.
'So... a win for you as well, right?'
Deciding to interrupt before things got really creepy, Tali cleared her throat loudly, and Joker started in his chair, before spinning around.
'Oh, hey Tali! Ah... how long have you been standing there?' The human at least had the good grace to look embarrassed, and Tali felt a smile pull across her face.
'Long enough, Joker. Long enough.' She said, shaking her head with amusement.
'EDI! Why didn't you tell me?' the pilot asked. Not to the small blue hologram, Tali noticed - Joker was clearly becoming more comfortable with the true nature of the AI that ran the ship.
I believed Tali and Legion would find watching our dialogue beneficial to their own relationship.
Both organics fell silent at the words.
Joker simply looked awkward, flushing a slightly deeper red... she knew the pilot flirted with the ship's AI fairly often, and was probably imagining some very inappropriate things.
But her own worries were different.
She tried - and she thought she was finally getting somewhere with her feelings - but she still could not feel comfortable with the two AIs conversing, referring to each other, as if they were people... but were they? They had such distinct personalities, just like people did. EDI liked jokes and had enough characteristics, voice modulator notwithstanding, that the crew, herself included, generally accepted it as female. Legion was more practical, and showed a deep desire to learn more about organics.
When she was just interacting with one of them, she found herself able to talk to them, to debate, to even at times let her guard down and enjoy their presence.
But...
Hearing the two talk to each other still seemed to undo all of her supposed "progress" in accepting AIs, sending worst case scenarios and worries through her mind. Quarians distrusted AIs. It was something drilled into every child from the moment they were old enough to speak, to program a computer, to pick up a weapon. Would she never be free of the prejudices of the people who cast her out?
'Erm...' Joker said quietly, before shifting in his chair. 'Was there something you wanted, Tali?'
She clenched her hands before her, and nodded. 'Shepard's left me in command of the Normandy while its on Illium.'
'Yeah, I'm glad she chose you and not me to be honest, the last time I was in charge the ship got boarded, while I was drunk might I add,I unshackled an AI and most of the crew got abducted. Hardly a great track record.'
She bit down a retort about her own track record of command, and tried to remind herself that he probably did not know a lot of her history - the human was just being as sarcastic as ever.
'Erm, yes. Well, I don't mind,' much... 'but while we're on Illium I think I'll need an... Ambassador.'
It was a rough translation of a word many quarians knew - a word, and job title, unique to their culture because no other species required such a person.
Joker raised a brow, and leaned back into his chair. 'An Ambassador?'
Not liking the dynamic of standing before the seated man, Tali slipped past Joker's chair and sank into the co-pilot's seat. 'Yes. We'll be on Illium, and on Illium...'
She took a deep breath. She should be used to this by now, be able to admit it to her friends, but even after so long, she wasn't. She just needed to get it over with. 'Quarians are treated like dirt. If I go to the market to buy something, even if I've got credits, all I'll see is the shop owners quickly putting up "no quarians" signs in their doors. If I try to talk to one of the workers, they'll think I'm going to pickpocket them. The company upgrading the ship probably won't even talk to me.'
'Sons of bitches...' Joker looked awkwardly away, shaking his head. She was glad he did not offer any empty words of condolence: that was not why she was there.
'It's not your fault, Joker. But anyway, if I have someone with me, a human, it means people will take me a bit more seriously. They'll probably think I'm your indentured servant, but they also know that quarians know what they are talking about most of the time, so as long as I actually get what I want...'
She trailed off, and looked over to Joker, who was now staring at her. 'And you think a human on crutches, hobbling around everywhere, worried he's going to break a shin if he slips on a curb, will somehow command more respect?'
'Yes!' She bristled. 'Anyone is better than... than a quarian.' she whispered the last word, before moving on.
'We have to do it all the time, on our pilgrimages, when the Flotilla needs supplies.' She tried to push past the shameful admission, forcing a casualness she did not feel into her voice. 'I probably won't need to do it more than a couple of times, but... will you help?'
'I...' Tali did not think she had ever seen Joker look so out of place; even when he had awkwardly apologised for his part in Shepard's death, he had done so with a hint of his usual sarcasm. But now his voice was deadly serious. 'I'm not sure why you're choosing me over Ken or the Doc or someone, but sure, I'll do it. Are you sure you don't want to say something to Shepard? Maybe she'd let Garrus stay?'
She shook her head. 'Oh, no, the last thing she needs right now is me getting her worried about something like this, and she needs Garrus on the Broker's ship. Like I said I shouldn't have to do it very often: Liara will be getting us professionals to retrofit the ship who can work on their own initiative, and we can get most supplies delivered, and if it's really important they can just call Shepard. But...'
'I already said yes, Tali.' Joker shook his head with a smile.
'T... thanks. For not, you know... asking questions, or anything.'
The pilot gestured to the crutches by his chair. 'I know what it's like to need help Tali; you don't need people pretending to feel sorry for you, you just want them to do what you ask.'
She nodded appreciatively, suddenly a lot more glad she had asked Joker rather than one of the other engineers. 'I'll leave you and EDI to your games.'
She stood and walked away, as Joker gave her a casual wave.
She hated having to do that, to put the burden and shame of her species onto somebody else. Before she met Shepard she once had to pay somebody to be her Ambassador; when she had approached C-sec with her data about the geth on Eden Prime. They had still not believed her, even with the bored looking asari at her side "vouching" for her.
[We regret the geth's part in your current predicament.]
Legion's voice, the artificial tones feigning organic emotions, quietly sounded by her ears. She slowed as she passed the large table in the centre of the CIC, but did not stop, instead feeling a bitter resentment bubble up through her.
'I don't need your pity, Legion.' She summoned the lift, hoping to just end the conversation.
[We do not understand. Despite extensive observation, many nuances of organic interaction are still foreign to us. We were attempting to display empathy.]
'Empathy?' She instinctively began to spin on the spot, trying to look at the machine, so she could glare at it, or anything.
But she couldn't. Because it was inside her suit, always there, and she could never even have a single moment without it knowing every tiniest thing about her. Tali's breathing grew laboured, and she did not even try to keep the venom from her words. 'You were the ones who forced us into this situation! If you empathised you would give us back our homeworld!'
It was the geths' fault she had to do what she just did, go crawling to another person just to have somebody else be civil to her.
And she had to do it in front of Legion. Because she had accepted it into her suit, into her very essence. She could not hide the knowledge of just how thoroughly the machines had destroyed her people, she could not even admit her shame to another person in private.
[We apologise if we offended. However, we have already discussed with you that geth would be open to negotiations with the Creators, if they ceased their default policy of hostility against us.]
'Keelah, Legion, will you just shut up!'
She jabbed a finger to the large "3" button in the elevator, not wanting to talk to any AI right now, - she just needed to work, to lose herself in the endless welding and soldering and wiring that was still ongoing in Liara's office, so she could just forget the last few minutes, forget that Legion was still there, still inside, able to see everything, to know everything, even her damned heartbeat.
She leaned back onto the rail, feeling a strange ache in her chest.
It was disgusting, in a way; nobody, not even her parents had been able to know her so intimately, and she could not even share her face with Garrus without risking her life, how was that fair? That this geth should know her so well, when no others could?
Tali suddenly felt faint, and clutched the rail behind her to steady herself.
Wha-
She drew in a deep breath to-
The air barely touched her.
Rather than filling, refreshing, the air felt thin and left her lungs burning, crying out for more.
She tried...
Don't panic! There must be something wrong, a minor glitch in the air filters reducing oxygen levels in my atmosphere, or...
She pulled up her suit feed on her omni-tool, determined to find out what was wrong, but there was nothing. All readouts were normal, including oxygen content in the sterilised air flowing through her helmet. Her vision grew fuzzy.
'Legion!' she gasped, drawing in another breath that ended all too soon, leaving her wanting, needing more, but panic overtook, and her short breaths did nothing to relieve the burning.
[What is wrong Tali? Vital signs undergoing minor fluctuation. We detect no malfunctions in your suit.]
'I... I can't... brea-' Her head began to spin, the bland colours of the elevator walls fading together, and the beating of her heart felt like a deep hammer pounding her chest, almost knocking her off her feet-
[Warning: we are about to manipulate suit atmosphere and oxygen flow, the sensation may be uncomfortable.]
Suddenly she felt air forced into her lungs, and after a moment of discomfort she stopped resisting and let the suit do its work, before pushing the air from her lungs on her own when she thought she could take no more. The next tentative breath filled her lungs as normal, and her pounding heart began to slow.
She was ok.
What just happened? Did Legion...?
Taking long, deep, delicious breaths, she frantically reviewed her suit schematics on her omni-tool. There was no recorded error in her breathing systems. What was wrong with her? Did... did Legion just try to hurt her?
But he didn't, he helped me, by doing what he did!
Tali stumbled out of the elevator, and slumped down into one of the chairs in the mess, clasping her trembling hands before her.
[Tali, are you well? Should I alert Doctor Chakwas?]
'No! No, Legion, just, be quiet, please...'
What just happened? Her suit feeds did not indicate anything was wrong... was it her? She had panicked, but that would not explain... She checked again. Nothing wrong with the air filters, or anything! Had Legion done it, and manipulated the suit readings as well?
But if he did, why had he been the one to force air into her lungs, breathing life into her? Asking about her wellbeing?
I... I don't...
'Hey, Tali!'
Startled, she looked up, seeing the grubby face of Engineer Daniels smiling from underneath a raised welding visor, poking out from Miranda's old room. 'We could sure use your help in here!'
She took a final glance at her omni-tool.
Still nothing...
Swallowing back a heavy lump in her throat, she stood, nodding to Gabriella. 'I... I'll be through in a moment!'
The human engineer disappeared back into Liara's half-constructed office.
What can I... do I tell the doctor? Or Garrus? Or... Shepard? What if it was Legion? What if it wasn't... Keelah, what is wrong with me?
Work. Work would distract her.
Trying to push what just happened from her mind, she followed Gabby into the large room, picked up a torch, and got to work.
'I feel ridiculous.' Shepard spun around, stretching to look back over her shoulder, and Garrus chuckled as Liara rather obviously eyed up the human, as her body pressed against the thin material.
'Well...' He drawled, leaning back onto one of the cargo crates in the hold of the Broker's ship. 'Were you planning on fighting the batarians, or seducing them?'
Shepard, apparently unwilling to wear her usual heavy armour as she infiltrated the batarian compound, had acquired some lightweight asari commando gear, and had spent close to half an hour with Liara trying to squeeze into it. The dark fabric seemed to cling to every single curve the human possessed, as if it were designed as much to appeal to the eye as it was for protection... and knowing the aesthetically-conscious asari, that was probably true.
If he was into humans, the sight would no doubt be as appealing as Liara's roving eyes suggested, but humans had always been much too soft for his liking - even well built humans such as Shepard - with no delicious edges to speak of, ridiculously wide waists, and those weird squishy things attached to the chest that everybody seemed to think were so fascinating just looked to him like awkward inconveniences.
It was something that worried him, about his slowly budding relationship with Tali. While he was in the quarian's presence, he felt his pulse race just as it did in the presence of an attractive turian... but he could not pinpoint the cause. He could think of nothing specific about her that physically aroused him, but that did not stop his body reacting anyway, at that lilting chuckle, still tinged with a hint of shyness. When she began to talk about the Normandy's engine, which still had her excited, the knowledge and passion flowing through every word. What if, if they ever got to that stage, he found himself not excited by her body but, well... just intrigued, and could not perform?
Spirits... there's a war on, Vakarian. Focus.
'Ignore him.' The asari stepped in closer to Shepard, clipping a large shield generator to the human's belt: one he recognised as extremely powerful, but with a much shorter life than the ones they usually used. If Shepard was not planning on getting into any prolonged firefights, it was a good choice. 'You look wonderful.'
Shepard smirked at the asari before moving away, again inspecting herself. 'I don't care how it looks... it feels like it'll tear if I move too fast. Does it actually offer any kind of protection?'
Liara shook her head with a smile, and moved back to the stash of weapons Shepard had prepared. She picked up the pair of M-3 Predators, both with silencers attached... one of them also fitted with a bulky attachment Garrus recognised as containing tranquiliser rounds. 'Of course it does, we would not wear such a thing otherwise. It is much stronger than it feels. The intelligent material hardens when impacted by fast moving objects, and will provide reasonable protection against anything the shield generator does not stop outright.'
Liara handed the pistols to Shepard, who fiddled with the small interface on the bottom of each hilt, killing the small lights running along the sides, before shipping one on each thigh - in physical holsters rather than the usual magnetic clips, whose gentle hum might give away her position.
'Not that I want you under any kind of weapon fire at all, it is supposed to be a stealth mission.' Liara continued, returning to pick up the small sniper rifle Shepard had chosen: a modified M-97 Viper... modified to be even smaller and lighter than the gun usually was. It paled in comparison to his preferred M-98 Widow, but he knew Shepard was almost as good a shot as he, so wasn't concerned... about her firepower at least.
The asari was clearly worried for Shepard - as was he. Solo missions were always dangerous, but one in batarian space, breaking into one of their infamous torture prisons... if it was anybody other than Shepard, he would have said it was suicide. But the human had an uncanny knack of always coming back, and for all of his bragging, he had honestly never seen a more deadly fighter than his leader.
Shepard took Liara's hand as the asari handed her the sniper rifle. 'I'll be careful.'
The pair locked eyes, and... spirits!... he could almost feel something physical pass between them then, as if his very existence had suddenly ceased in their world, as if they shared themselves in just a touch and a glance. The moment was over before he could even be sure it had happened, and he actually drew in something like a relieved breath as Liara turned back to the weapon bench, breaking the contact. 'Good.'
'Did you get the information on Bahak?' Shepard asked, and Garrus pulled out the datapad Liara had given him earlier.
'Yeah,' Garrus answered, looking down the vital information. 'Not much there other than Aratoht, a medium sized batarian colony, population approximately three hundred thousand. Mostly mining operations for heavy metals, both on the planet and the nearby asteroid belt, but there's a few military compounds there too... strange, since it's just about the furthest occupied system from the galactic core there is. Your operative is being held in one of them: Liara was able to narrow down which. It's staffed by-'
'Give me a breakdown of the population.' The coldness in Shepard's voice stopped Garrus' report, and he looked up to see the woman fixing him with a piercing gaze... one that had his nerves on edge. He had seen how the woman had reacted on Omega to the batarians, to the slavers, and he knew what she was asking. He glanced at Liara, who nodded at him sadly.
The turian took a deep breath, and pulled up the relevant figure on the datapad. 'Ninety thousand free. An estimated two hundred and fifteen thousand... other.'
The word stuck in his mouth. Of all the crimes in the galaxy, slavery was one of the most horrific. During his time as Archangel, he had preferred nothing to taking down a slaving ring, despite the fact that more often than not the batarians executed the slaves before he could rescue them. Simply knowing they could not do it again, was enough.
It had to be enough, because he could give his team nothing more.
'Two hundred and fifteen thousand...' Shepard spoke through clenched teeth, fists curled tightly, and he could see her eyes glisten with the eerie red lights of her resurrection. 'How many batarian?'
'Ahm...' He scrolled through the data. 'Around one hundred and eighty thousand.'
She took a step closer to him. 'And the rest?'
'Faith...' Liara was there instantly, a soft hand on Shepard's arm. 'That is not why you are going.'
'I...' Shepard pulled her arm away from Liara, hard, but he could see there was no malice in the action - just a desire every soldier knew, to keep things to themselves, but when Liara took the human's hand she did not resist a second time. 'I know. But it should be. Lights out!'
She called the last words loudly and clearly, and the room plunged into darkness.
Shepard had done a good job killing all of the usual residual lights on her person... other than those she could not control. He saw Liara's eyes reflected in the soft red glow coming from Shepard's face, full of concern.
He had seen so much of Shepard, when she was happy, unhappy, in pain, amused... but never this. Her emotions usually seemed fleeting, ghosting across her face before being hidden beneath the stoic exterior once again. But now, imagined or not, the lights seemed to throb with an angry pulse, the human's feelings about slavers tearing across her very being, caught and reflected by the one being in the galaxy who seemed to be able to properly break through her steely shell, echoing nothing other than acceptance and care... and a sadness, to see her partner in such pain.
'Do...' His word cracked the oppressive silence in the room, drawing the attention of the pair. 'Do you want to borrow some war paint?'
Shepard's mask of anger broke, and he let out his tension in a deep sigh of relief. The human smiled, shaking her head slightly. 'I think that's a damned good idea, Garrus.'
A/N: Thank you Jay8008 and Tayg.
