The Petra Nebula was easy enough to find on the star map, but it took a fair bit of checking to figure out where to go from there to get to Grissom Academy. Despite all she had heard about the institute, and despite being a biotic herself, it had never actually occurred to Shepard to visit it. By comparison, the station was barely bigger than the Normandy itself, a pinpoint in an infinite sea of space, but, thanks to EDI's help at the helm, the time it took to find it was cut down immeasurably. Before long, the Normandy's approach slowed to a drift, and then a crawl, before finally stopping short, hovering uncertainly a fair distance away from the Grissom Academy space station.
Joker frowned, pointing to the large white ship and cluster of sleek, weaponized ships hovering in a suffocating ring around the academy. "There's the folks that answered the distress call," he said, turning to look back at Shepard. "Cerberus cruiser. At least a dozen fighters on blockade duty." Giving a huff of breath, he drummed his thumbs against the armrests of his chair, weighing the options, trying to decide what the best course of action would be, but seemingly unable to come up with anything brilliant. "Too many for us in a straight-up fight…" he mused, shaking his head, frustrated. "They must want this place bad."
"Receiving incoming transmission," EDI provided, her deft fingers sweeping across her co-pilot keyboard, honing in their systems on the transmission signal.
"Let's hear it," Shepard answered, moving up behind Joker's chair and leaning on the headrest, poised.
The transmission faltered a moment, the radio popping as the signal fought to break through obvious interference. Then, "SSV Normandy, this is Kahlee Sanders, director of Grissom Academy. We need immediate assistance. Cerberus is attacking the facility. They're after my students."
Shepard frowned, feeling a sudden burst of ire clenching at her heart. It was not surprising that Cerberus had decided to attack a sanctuary for biotics too young or inexperienced to know how to fend for themselves, especially after what they had done to Jack, but the ever-sinking depths of their depravity never ceased to boil her blood nonetheless. "This is Commander Shepard," she answered, raising her voice to make sure she could be heard over the flimsy signal. "We're blocked on the direct approach."
"I know," Kahlee answered, sounding more resigned than alarmed. "They've taken control of our docking bay."
"Any alternatives?" Shepard asked, hopeful, drumming her fingers anxiously against the headrest.
Kahlee hesitated, thinking, the line going dead silent for a moment before her voice returned again. "There's an auxiliary cargo port I could probably open…" she said, sounding tentative. But tentative was better than nothing.
"All right," Shepard answered, pushing herself away from the pilot's chair to start towards the hangar, ready to go. "We'll come in by shuttle and get your students out of there. Joker, can you give me a diversion?"
"Oh, boy!" Joker grinned, pulling himself around in his chair to look excitedly back towards the Commander, his green eyes lit up eagerly. "Can I!"
The door of the Cerberus shuttle hissed shut on the last student boarding, the boosters firing ear-splittingly into life as the shuttle lifted off the docking floor and turned sharply towards the exit, cruising into open space. Shepard lowered Rodriguez from her shoulder onto one of the seats, still short of breath, before lifting a hand and pressing it to the comm device clipped to her ear, paging the Normandy's frequency. "Joker, we flew out on a Cerberus shuttle," she reported, curt. "Watch your fire."
"Right, I've got you on sensors," Joker answered quickly. "Should just be a minute. Hang on."
Shepard nodded the self-affirmative. Then, turning, she finally allowed herself to drop down into a seat opposite the students, looking over the small class of biotics they had managed to cramp on board the shuttle. Kahlee Sanders sighed, relieved, as she looped one thin arm around a silver pole framing one side of the shuttle door, steadying her still-shaking frame. "Thank you, Commander," she said, giving Shepard an grateful nod. "We would never have gotten off that station if you hadn't come."
"F—forget that," Jack retorted, incredulous, quickly catching herself before dropping a curse. "We kicked some ass! Next place we dock, you're all getting inked. My treat." Taking a quick, cursory glance across her students, she raised her scarred brows, clearing her throat. "What do you guys want?" she asked. "Ascension Project logo? Glowing fist? …Maybe a unicorn for Rodriguez?"
"Screw you, Ma'am," Rodriguez answered, smiling embarrassedly.
"I can't believe we got them out alive," Kahlee repeated, stunned, smiling at the lighthearted banter between the younger biotics. "I was going to suggest that they stick to support roles, but… perhaps they're ready after all."
Shepard frowned, uneasy, glancing over towards Jack to try to gage her feelings on the matter, only to find that Jack was already looking at her, waiting anxiously for her decision. She could see in the young woman's face that she was just as hesitant about the idea of the fledgling biotics being put into the front line as Shepard was, but it was also clear that she trusted Shepard's judgment implicitly, whatever she might decide. Turning back towards Kahlee and the students, Shepard took a deep breath. "They're definitely ready," she concluded. "But the Alliance needs them in a support role."
"What?!" one of the male students retorted, huffing indignantly. "We trained for artillery strikes!"
"We don't need another artillery unit," Shepard returned, evenly. "We need stronger barriers for our frontline squads."
"This is bullshit!" Rodriguez argued.
"Hey!" Jack shot back. "If that's where they need us, that's where we go." She paused a moment, before a sly, knowing half-smirk crossed her painted lips. "Besides," she added. "I'm sure we'll get some shots in."
"Commander, we've got a visual on you now," Joker's voice suddenly fizzled over the ship's intercom. "Preparing to dock. –Hey, Jack, now that you're military, are you going to wear a uniform, or are you just getting the officer's bars tattooed on?"
"Screw you, f—flight lieutenant," Jack shot back, barely catching herself before dropping another swear. Biting her lip, she made a face, inwardly cursing herself for sounding like an idiot, and Shepard could hardly contain an amused little smile.
Joker laughed over the intercom, sounding taken aback, before asking, incredulously, "Uh… what the hell was that?"
"Jack promised to watch her language in order to maintain the necessary professionalism we need from our teachers," Kahlee explained, trying hard to hold back a smile of her own at Jack's expense. Jack, meanwhile, pursed her lips, looking like a red-faced child in a candy store who had just been told her allowance had been severely cut.
"What, does she have a swear jar or something?" Joker asked, altogether too amused by Jack's plight. "'Cause I bet if we emptied that thing, we could afford another cruiser. Hah!"
"Cover your ears, kids," Jack finally shot back, fed up. "Hey, Joker! F—"
The videocomm conversation with Hackett was shorter than usual. After explaining what they had done and how they intended to use their newfound allies to bolster the war effort, Shepard had half expected for Hackett to tell her that what she had done had been too risky, or too much effort for too little payoff, or something else indicating that she had taken precious time away from the collecting of resources for the Crucible. Instead, he had simply nodded, looking thoughtful, before taking a deep breath and telling her, "Good work, Shepard." And that had been it.
The war room never seemed to be quite empty whenever she managed to get around to visiting it – there was always someone checking up on the resources, or using one of the comm posts, or running numbers in one of the sunken support stations. Despite being a war room, the atmosphere was calming, a heady silence broken only by a soft whirring and beeping sound every so often in predetermined intervals. Victus stood at the far end of the asset model, watching in thoughtful silence as a team of tiny hologram ships blipped across the screen, the partially-completed model of the Crucible spinning slowly in the centre of the system.
Moving past him, Shepard made her way to where Wrex stood at one of the comm consoles, perusing aimlessly through his e-mails, as if staring at them long enough would make something new appear, something, anything to let him know how things were going on his homeworld. She knew the feeling too well. "Hell of a showdown on Sur'Kesh," Wrex suddenly spoke up, turning his attention away from the console to look at her. "Just like the old days, Shepard. Right down to me pulling your ass out of the fire."
Shepard hesitated, caught off guard, before loosening up and offering him an incredulous smirk. "I was the one with bullets flying at me," she returned, glad that he was not upset at her for seemingly spying on him.
"And I gave you the moral support to dodge them," Wrex answered, teasingly.
"Uh-huh," Shepard said, sarcastic.
"I hear you pulled quite a stunt at Grissom Academy, too," Wrex added, exiting out of his e-mail to turn to face her entirely. "Saved all their asses. Young biotics… they're gonna be a good resource in this war. You can never have too many biotics on your team."
"Some might disagree," Shepard answered, shrugging.
"Then they don't know what they're talking about," Wrex grunted.
Shepard gave a soft, amused breath, tucking her hands anxiously into the pockets of her hoodie, before her brow furrowed and she bit her lip, thoughtful. "You said one of your squads is missing?" she asked, moving the subject away from Grissom Academy.
Wrex hesitated, glancing over towards Victus, making sure he was not listening in, before turning his attention back to Shepard, more serious now. "They were scouting out the Rachni relay," he answered, his voice lower, so that only she could hear. "We've heard rumours of trouble in the area."
"Rachni?" Shepard asked, surprised.
"Thought that might get your attention," Wrex answered. "I have a… favour, to ask. It's big."
"Don't tell me they're back," Shepard said, dreading the answer.
"All I know for sure is our scouts went silent as soon as they arrived. I've got Arlakh Company, my best unit, on standby. You give the word and I'll meet you there."
"I'll see what I can do," Shepard answered. "But… how could there be trouble with the Rachni? They were all but extinct. The last queen promised to disappear forever or be destroyed."
"I know, I was there," Wrex returned. "I've got a bad feeling about this. May not be Rachni – but maybe it is. Could be another invasion. If they're crawling out from under some rock, you know how bad it can get. We need to stop them."
"Agreed," Shepard answered. Falling silent, she fidgeted, wondering if there was anything she was forgetting or if it would be appropriate to leave the conversation. She had never been an excellent judge at that sort of thing, even around friends. "Was there anything else you needed me for?" she asked, finally breaking the awkward silence. "Or…?"
"Nah," Wrex answered, giving a tired wave of one clawed hand and turning his attention back to the e-mail station. "Just that. Which, thanks, by the way. In advance."
"Of course," Shepard said, starting to turn away as well.
"Oh, and, Shepard?" Wrex added, catching her attention again, causing her to turn and face him once more, raising her brows, expectant. "I like what you've done with the Normandy," he told her. "Got tired of always hanging around the cargo bay before. I still don't have a window, like Liara does, but… maybe that's because I don't kiss as well."
"No comment," Shepard returned, deadpan.
"Yeah?" Wrex laughed, shaking his broad head as he turned back to his e-mail console. "I missed this place."
Garrus had already returned to his post by the time Shepard found her way down to the gunnery bay. It was not exactly a chance encounter, as her intent had been to find him, but it was still lucky that he happened to be in the first place she looked for him. He was dedicated to his job in the gunnery, which was good, because he was the best one on the ship at it, but it still amused her a bit just how often she seemed to find him down here. He had told her once that busywork helped him not to worry so much, and that doing the same thing over and over calmed him. She figured that he had a lot more to worry about now than usual, so busywork was as good a way as any to keep him grounded, and stop him from losing his mind with anxiety over his sister, his father, and his homeworld.
"Hey," Shepard greeted him, softly. She did not want to startle him in the middle of his important work.
Garrus turned, glancing up from his work only momentarily, before returning his attention to the calibration screen. "Hey," he answered, preoccupied.
"What're you up to?" Shepard asked, resting her chin against one of the outcrops of his rigid armour. At five-foot-eight, she was far from tiny in stature, but compared to Garrus' six-foot-eight she was just barely tall enough for her head to clear his shoulder, something she had had to get used to since getting to know him more intimately. It was not terribly hard for her to adapt, but it still became awkward when she tried to do the normal things couples did with him, only to have him be too high in the sky to effectively reach.
Garrus took a deep breath, still not looking away from his work, before giving a half-hearted shrug of his shoulders. "Just… thinking," he said, cryptic.
"What about?" Shepard asked, turning her attention to the calibration screen to see if she could figure out what he was working on. As usual, not much of it made sense to her, but she could tell he was working hard, regardless.
"This war," Garrus answered, truthfully. "All the kids caught up in it. Grissom Academy. My sister. Older sister, but… still. All the young people." He made a few more distracted keystrokes, focused on his work, but then stopped, letting out a soft sigh and turning to look at Shepard, letting the text crawl slowly up the screen, unattended. "One of the worst parts of this war is watching the kids react," he told her, resting his hands on the edge of his console, one clawed finger tapping gently against the glass, absentmindedly. "If they're lucky, they grow up thinking the galaxy is basically a decent place – some rough spots here and there, but for the most part life makes sense."
His blue avian eyes drifted to one side, and he frowned, his mandibles giving a few unfocused, contemplative tremors as he thought. "Now they find out… it was all a lie," he said, his voice lower, more solemn. "They wake up to see these things in the dark that just want to destroy everyone they ever cared about. If they survive, there will be a lot of angry orphans out there looking for answers."
Shepard's brow furrowed. That had not been the answer she had expected. It was not unlike Garrus to think about heavy subject matter like this, especially not with his father and sister still caught up in the crossfire of the war on Palaven, but it surprised her all the same to hear him speak with such sincerity, rather than trying to patch his apprehensions over with a well-meaning joke. "You really think there won't be any survivors?" she asked, looking up at him, expectant, hoping for an answer. "What about the kids who— their parents survive the war? Life has to go on. People can't just stop having children, or… trying to help their children understand."
"That's true," Garrus answered, thoughtful. "But… can you imagine bringing a child into this sort of environment? This war, it's… it's destroyed everything. What kind of quality of life would a child have in a galaxy decimated by war?" Shaking his head, he turned his attention back to his console, reaching up and scrolling it back to where he had last left off before getting distracted. "It's not just a few colonies fighting one another, Shepard, it's— everywhere. It's everything," he told her. "If we win – when we win – what are we winning, really? Our home, but will it really be our home? Will it be the kind of home we want to bring someone new into? For it to be the only home they've ever known?"
"Things will get better," Shepard reasoned, trying her hardest to believe her own optimism. "They have to. Things can't stay this way forever. The Reapers said this has happened before, and… things were pretty okay for us before all of this. Life was pretty normal before the Reapers attacked again."
"After fifty thousand years of restoration," Garrus countered. He sighed again, louder this time, before sucking in a deep breath and turning to look at Shepard, supportive. "But, maybe you're right," he told her. "And, besides, who am I to tell people what to do? I've always wanted kids, myself. I guess that makes me hypocritical."
"Not really," Shepard answered, shrugging as she reached up to fiddle with a plate of his armour that had somehow gotten pushed into an unusual angle at one corner. "Just makes you a realist with optimistic ideals."
Garrus laughed, gently, turning his attention back to his work once more. "Well, all I know is that I wish they'd had a Grissom Academy for turians when I was growing up," he told her, attempting to lighten the dreary mood that had fallen over the room. "Always wanted to learn how to paint. Now I mostly paint walls with Reaper blood. Not the same, but… it's a living."
"Yeah," Shepard agreed, half-heartedly. "It's a living."
The hamster Shepard had purchased from the Citadel snuffled gently as it passed from one hand into the other, and then back into the first hand again, half-heartedly exploring the familiar territory as it looked for a way to escape to forage for more food. The hamster had, admittedly, lived much longer than she had anticipated it to – judging from the rate at which she went through fish, she never really expected anything to have much of a survival rate under her care – and it had grown fat and aloof during its days aboard the ship. It had taken her several months after she had first gotten the creature, as a wide-eyed tourist's impulse buy, to realize that she had never actually gotten around to naming it, but by that time she figured it was probably too late to bother giving it a name, and so the creature had been given the unofficial title of "You", short for "Hey, You", the greeting most often offered the hamster whenever someone entered her cabin and acknowledged it.
The door of Shepard's cabin slid open, and Shepard looked up, letting You slide from one hand into the other, giving a soft, surprised squeak as it tumbled on its furry bottom before regaining its little claw feet. Jack paused in the doorway, giving the room a quick, cursory once-over, before stepping inside and letting the door close again behind her. "Nice place," she commented, propping her hands on her hips. "Still got your model ship collection, I see."
"Always," Shepard answered, petting the space between You's tiny ears with the tip of one finger. "What's up?"
Jack hesitated, looking around again, buying time before answering the question. "Nothin'," she finally answered, playing aloof. "Nothing's up. Why? Can't I just… come see you? Does there have to be a reason?"
Shepard considered, glancing down at You, before shaking her head and depositing him back into his little cage, closing the lid after him. "Not really," she answered, truthfully. "Just 'cause you wanted to see me is good enough. I know I'm good looking. You don't have to pretend."
Turning to look at Shepard, Jack laughed openly, feeling the momentary tension lift. Then, moving across the cabin to where Shepard sat, Jack sat down next to her, scooting herself almost all the way over into the Commander's space. "Move," she insisted, playfully.
"Excuse you," Shepard laughed, uncrossing her legs as she was shifted unceremoniously to one far side of her couch. "Is that any way to talk to your superior officer? I'm the saviour of the galaxy, you know."
"And I'm the saviour of this seat," Jack insisted, pressing her hip against Shepard's again, though not very hard. "Move your fat ass."
"Rude," Shepard retorted, grinning.
"Bite me," Jack answered, settling into her now much larger space. Now that the playful moment was over, silence settled on the two of them again, broken only by the sound of Jack's thin, tattooed fingers drumming thoughtfully against her canvas-clad knees, her gaze fixed on a spot on the floor between her heavy combat boots. The silence was not unusual for the two of them – Jack was a woman of few niceties, which meant she had no use for small talk, something Shepard was grateful for, as conversation had never been one of her strongest suits, either. When Jack talked to someone, it was almost always to get a point across or convey information. She was not the type of person to waste words on the weather, but she could always be counted on to have something constructive to say about the war effort.
Sliding one foot over then, Jack knocked it playfully into Shepard's boot, grinning as Shepard turned to look at her, seeming surprised by the unexpected, affectionate contact. "Shi—shoot, Shepard," Jack teased, giving her a quick, playful once-over. "Shouldn't have left you to your own devices after that suicide mission. I look away for one minute, and what happens? You get grounded for six months and totally let yourself go."
Shepard stared at Jack for another long moment, not seeming to hear her, still mentally a thousand miles away. Then, coming back to reality, she took a quick, sharp breath, raising her distinct brows. "I'm sorry, what was that?" she asked. "I was thinking about the Academy… Cerberus…"
"I said you're fat, Shepard," Jack repeated, not missing a beat.
Shepard faltered, her heart skipping a beat, beginning to race as she tried hard to keep a worried flush from rising to her face. The banter was so silly and so simple, but somehow Jack had figured out the exact right nerve to strike in her innocent teasing. Then, leaning back in her seat again, Shepard laughed, this time a bit too enthusiastically. "You're an ass, Jack," she told her, hoping to cover for her earlier slip.
"Takes one to know one," Jack replied, smirking fondly. Then, turning her attention back to her feet again, she tucked her hands between her knees, giving a sad, quiet sigh and resting her head on Shepard's shoulder. "This war fuckin' sucks, Shepard," she said, quietly.
Shepard nodded slowly, thoughtful, before turning her head to rest her cheek against the top of Jack's head, understanding. "Yeah," she agreed, giving a soft, tired sigh. "Y'know… it fuckin' does."