The vidcomm meeting with Admiral Hackett had been a short one, with Hackett starting in on his request barely seconds after connecting, not even bothering to lead with formalities. "Commander," he had addressed her, clasping his hands sternly behind his back. "The turian fleet is stretched thin. We need more support ships, and the quarians are willing to talk if you will meet with them at their current location in the Far Rim."
"Understood, Sir," Shepard had returned, nodding assuredly. "I'll look into it."
"Be careful, Commander," Hackett had warned her. "We've got reports of instability along the geth border. Hackett out." And with that, he had severed the connection, ending the conversation.
The talks with Hackett were getting shorter and shorter, something Shepard figured probably had to do with him being too busy overseeing the building of the Crucible to have time for long, drawn-out chats. Exiting the comm room, she made her way towards the cockpit, running Hackett's request over and over in her mind. She knew she had to go to the Citadel in order to pick up a better fitting suit of armour, but the Far Rim was on the opposite side of the galaxy from the Serpent Nebula. Going to the Citadel first would only waste time and fuel, as the crew had plenty of food, ammunition, and other supplies. Plus, with Thane and Ashley both already securely aboard, there was really no other reason for them to visit the Citadel that would not sound both contrived and extremely suspicious.
Shoving her hands defeatedly into the pockets of her hoodie, Shepard came to stand beside Joker at the controls, staring out through the panoramic window into the broad, starry expanse of space. "Some view, huh, Commander?" Joker asked, looking up at her amicably. "Never gets old. To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?"
"We need to head out to the Far Rim," Shepard told him, straightforwardly. "Hackett wants us to arrange a meeting with the quarians to see if we can convince them to join our cause. Hopefully bolster our troops." Letting out a soft sigh, she brushed her bangs distractedly away from her eyes. "Lord knows we need all the help we can get," she added, almost an undertone.
"That shouldn't take too long," Joker told her, pulling up a holographic map on his control screen and selecting the nearest relay point, tracing the slingshot path between systems with his finger until he arrived at the Far Rim. "Just one, two… two jumps, maybe three if we run into a problem with one of them. With intermittent STL travel between relay points, it should only take us a few days at the most."
"What about with a detour?" Shepard suddenly asked, turning to look at him for the first time. "A quick stop. Just to pick up a few supplies along the way. There's got to be commercial civilization somewhere in this part of the galaxy."
"Beats me," Joker admitted, shrugging and looking up at her apologetically. "Anything apart from Illium and the Citadel is more than I'm aware of, and Illium's pretty much a bust these days. You guys said so, yourselves. We can always head back towards the Citadel if you really need supplies—"
"No, no," Shepard cut him off, shaking her head vehemently. "I don't want to head back towards the Citadel. We don't have time for that. I was hoping we could find someplace along the way to stop for supplies, but if there's nowhere in this area…"
"There are two locations between the Omega Nebula and the Far Rim where shopping is feasible," EDI suddenly piped up, turning to look at the two of them. "The first is Ekuna, a desert planet with a high gravitational field inhabited mainly by elcor, and the second is Boro, an extremely cold planet inhabited mainly by volus. Both have had reports of pirate activity, but both are civilized and have merchants with stores with legitimate stock." She blinked, helpful, before offering them a stiff, awkward little smile. "Which one would you like to set a course for, Shepard?" she asked, pulling up a screen of her own.
Shepard paused, considering her options. "Ekuna," she finally decided. "Set us on a course for that. We'll make a quick stop there before heading on to the Far Rim."
"Aye-aye, Commander," Joker acknowledged, pulling up the galaxy map again and rerouting the course. "One shopping stop to Ekuna." Then, turning to look back at Shepard again, he added, "Aren't you glad we have EDI around? Neither of us would have figured that out without her."
"I am sure Shepard would have figured it out eventually," EDI joked, turning her attention back to her controls as well. "Perhaps once we had already passed the Phoenix Massing… but eventually."
Shepard had just finished adding the last details to her newest model ship when she received the word from Joker that the Normandy had entered the Salahiel system and was quickly approaching Ekuna. Blowing on the ship to help it to dry a bit faster, she set it carefully aside on her desk, sliding out her chair and pushing herself to her feet. She was finding this harder and harder to do, as she had already raked her stomach across the edge of her desk more than once while trying to get up. It was an unnerving feeling, and entirely unpleasant, and so she had taken extra care after that to push her chair out twice as far as she thought she needed to in order to get up without touching anything again. Once she had managed to get up out of her chair, she brought her foot up to the seat, massaging her swollen ankle and resting her chin frustratedly against her knee as she did so.
"I hate pregnancy," she muttered, pushing her thumbs coaxingly into the tender red flesh of her ankle and giving a frustrated grunt of effort when the throbbing sensation refused to go away. "How do some people do this more than once? No fucking thank you." Realizing that her efforts were apparently in vain, Shepard retrieved her foot from the chair, letting out a heavy, long-suffering sigh as she set it back on the floor, staring down at her angry-looking, enflamed pink bare feet. "Fantastic," she breathed, annoyed. Aching feet, tender breasts, a sore back, and a bladder that never felt entirely empty were the absolute last things she wanted to deal with right now, especially when they all coincided with what was already shaping up to be the biggest, most difficult war the galaxy had ever seen.
Right now, as things were, she had no idea how she could be expected to lead her troops into battle when she could barely lead herself from the top to the bottom level of the Normandy without having to stop for a bathroom break somewhere inbetween.
Dropping down onto her bed, she pulled a pair of socks from her nightstand, slipping them on, before grabbing up her boots from beside her bed and pulling them on as well. Taking her hoodie from where it hung in her closet, she pulled it on, zipping it up over the small baby bump showing through her undershirt and checking her appearance to make sure nothing was showing. Satisfied that she was sufficiently covered, she pressed the intercom button beside her closet, waiting for the sound of Joker's breathing on the other end. "Joker," she told him. "I'm about ready to head down. Tell everyone that if they want anything from the surface they can send me a message and I'll try to get it for them."
"That's generous of you, Commander," Joker told her, sounding a bit amused. "You sure the Alliance won't mind you spending their money on personal stuff? Not that I'm one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but if you're really offering, I've got a list of stuff about a couple gigabytes long…"
"Everyone but you," Shepard told him, chuckling. "I'm serious, though. If you've got a request – a real request – go ahead and send it my way."
"Aw, man," Joker groaned disappointedly, laughing at the conversation despite himself. "Okay, Commander. I'll get the word out. But don't blame me if you get a bunch of weird requests. I'm just the messenger."
"Copy that," Shepard agreed, smiling. Letting go of the intercom button, she checked one last time to make sure she had everything she needed before making one final trip to the bathroom to pee, sliding her omni-tool sensor over the back of her hand, and leaving her quarters to make her way down to the hangar for her ride. When she finally arrived in the hangar, she was surprised to see Garrus already there waiting for her, leaning nonchalantly against the side of the Kodiak as he chatted casually with Cortez, who was busy doing a last-minute check of the exterior fans. Shepard's gait slowed to a cautious crawl as she approached, looking between the two of them, expecting one or the other to explain what was going on and hopefully reassure her that the plan had not changed, but, spotting Shepard approaching the vehicle, Cortez grinned, waving her over and wiping a thin film of sweat from his face.
"Hey, Commander," he greeted her, enthusiastically. "Garrus says he wants to come down planetside with us. The more the merrier, right?"
"If that's okay with you," Garrus added, quickly, looking over at her. "I just figured, rather than bothering you to pick something up for me, I'd head down myself to get it. Save everyone some time and trouble. I wouldn't want to step on any toes, though, so if you've got other plans—"
"It's fine," Shepard said, curtly, cutting over him. "Let's just… head down. We don't have a lot of time to waste."
"You got it, Commander," Cortez agreed, brightly, pulling himself up into the shuttle and settling into the pilot's seat. Shepard was the next to board, followed by Garrus, who purposefully stood on the opposite side of the shuttle from her, watching her intently, as if trying to silently puzzle out what was bothering her. Shepard crossed her arms, making sure to take up as much belligerent space as she could on the shuttle's bench, pointedly not returning Garrus' curious gaze as the Kodiak took off for the surface of Ekuna. The shuttle rattled a bit as it entered the heavy atmosphere, causing Garrus to have to readjust his grip on his overhead handle, before it finally came to a smooth, gradual stop at the designated landing pad. Cortez opened the door with a hiss, allowing his two passengers to exit the shuttle into a short, walled-in walkway, which led to a small, plexiglass-lined docking station manned almost entirely by elcor, with one angry-looking turian sitting at a desk at the far end, entirely preoccupied with whatever was currently scrolling across his screen.
"Helpfully: wrists, please," the first elcor instructed, lumping over towards them on all fours. As soon as Shepard and Garrus had provided their wrists, the elcor sat back on its haunches, reaching into a pouch at its hip and pulling out four thick, metallic-looking bracelets. This seemed to be the turian employee's cue, as he quickly got up from his desk to make his way towards the visitors, sliding the bracelets off of the elcor's thick fingers and wordlessly clipping them into place around each tourist's wrists. "These are your equalizers," the elcor explained as the turian employee activated each bracelet in turn, causing them to whine as a stripe around the centre of each one began to glow blue. "These equalizers use mass effect technology to help you to retain some semblance of familiar gravitational resistance on Ekuna. Please do not attempt to remove them until you are safely back in the welcome station and can be assisted by a professional."
As the equalizers began to reach full power, Shepard could feel a weak magnetic pulse move between each of her bracelets before running through her body, causing her to give an involuntary shiver. She watched in amusement as Garrus did the same, though she could tell he tried hard to hide it. Pushing himself back up onto all fours then, the elcor tilted his head, attempting to look as friendly as possible. "Courteously: enjoy your stay on Ekuna," he told them, before lumbering out of the way, allowing them to pass through the welcome station and into the city.
As soon as they were out of the confined space of the welcome station, Shepard made an immediate turn towards the far end of the open market, splitting off from Garrus as fast as she possibly could. Stuffing her hands into the pockets of her hoodie, she walked with a determined stride, simply wanting to put as much distance as possible between herself and her turian companion. He knew what she was down there for, or at the very least to the extent that she had told anyone in her crew, but she could not help the striking suspicion that he had only come to Ekuna to try to squeeze in some alone time with her, which was the absolute last thing she wanted right then. She figured that if she were wrong, and he really did just want to pick up some supplies while they were on Ekuna, then there would be no problem with her going her own way and the two of them simply meeting up again when they had finished their shopping. However, she was not in the mood to be cornered at some stall and forced to talk about their personal life, or whatever messed-up semblance of one they might have had.
Glancing over her shoulder to make sure Garrus was not following her, Shepard finally allowed herself to slow down, her pace dropping to a casual stroll as she continued to make her way through the scattered stallfronts of the open Ekuna market. She felt a bit guilty running off on her companion like that, but at the same time, she did not want to have to explain to him why she was specifically looking for a larger size of armour in a heavy duty build. Scanning the shops that lined the open street she now found herself on, it did not take her long to find a stand with armour on display, and she approached the storefront tentatively, not wanting to seem too interested in the elcor merchant's wares. She knew too well that an eager customer could often be interpreted as someone willing to spend large amounts of money on things they did not need, and she could already feel the elcor's beady eyes on her, watching her as she came closer, silently challenging her casual nonchalance.
"You sell armour here?" Shepard asked, leaning on one hand on the counter and looking around at the elcor's varied wares. She could see at least one set of armour, but it appeared to be made for a quarian, and a small one at that.
"Helpfully: I do sell armour here," the elcor merchant replied, nodding his domed head.
"How many different models do you carry?" Shepard asked, eagerly leaning both elbows on the counter now. "Any specialty sets? Do you offer any degree of customization?"
"I…" the elcor faltered, looking suddenly as uncomfortable as she had ever seen an elcor look. "N-no customization. And very few different models, especially for human armour. In fact, I have mostly… quarian armour in stock, currently." He paused again, snuffling worriedly, before finally admitting, "Embarrassedly: most of my stock is… salvaged. Generally from the refuse yards and trashed ships left on the planet after the quarian squatting period." Shrugging his massive shoulders, he glanced back at the mismatched displays of stock lining his small storefront. "Truthfully: selling salvaged stock is the only way I manage to break even most of the time," he told her, sadly. "Not a lot of visitors to Ekuna, and those we do get don't have a lot of credits to spare. This war has hit everyone pretty hard."
Shepard hesitated, unsure how to respond to this revelation. "Well, do you have any human armour?" she finally asked, hopefully. "Even something secondhand would work at this point. I don't really need something fancy, I just need something."
"I might have something like what you're looking for, actually," the elcor told her, turning to look at her again, observantly. "I do have some non-salvaged stock. What exactly kind of human armour are you in the market for?"
"Well, preferably something heavy-duty," Shepard answered quickly, making an indicative, weighted gesture at her shoulders. "Something with some bulk to it. Not necessarily in the market for something super flashy or professional, just… something that looks weighty. Do you have anything like that?"
"Inquisitively: you're only looking for something aesthetic?" the elcor asked, narrowing his beady eyes at her. "You want something that just looks like it will sustain heavy damage, not necessarily something that will sustain heavy damage?"
"I mean," Shepard faltered, letting her hands drop back to her sides. "Ideally, I'd like it to be able to sustain some damage. But I don't necessarily need something that would render a biotic shield worthless. If that makes sense."
"Understandingly: it makes perfect sense," the elcor returned, nodding again. "Helpfully: I think I might actually have something that would interest you. I've been holding onto it for a while, waiting for the right person to take it off my hands. Let me go get it for you, and you can see if it's what you're looking for." With a groaning sound, the elcor pushed himself away from the counter of his stand, dropping down onto all fours, and shambled away from her towards the back of the mercantile stand. He returned a few moments later pulling a large crate behind him with one hand, limping awkwardly over to the counter with the other three limbs before reaching it and squatting back onto his haunches again, letting out a soft, snorting sigh as he did so.
Pulling the box up onto the counter with ease, he pried off the lid and set it on the dirt floor of the mercantile stand, letting her take a look at the contents inside the box. "Informative: I bought this set several years ago," the elcor explained as Shepard pulled a stiff, brand-new undersuit from the box and began to inspect it. "One of the first of its line. I thought I would be making an excellent investment getting in a brand-new, top-of-the-line set of human armour not available almost anywhere else…" The elcor trailed off, sighing heavily as he watched Shepard set the undersuit to one side to continue investigating the contents of the crate. "Disappointed: the set they sent was, unfortunately… defective," he told her, glumly. "The style had to be recalled before it could be mass-produced."
"What was wrong with it?" Shepard asked, pulling a thick belt lined with pouches from the box and setting it approvingly aside with the undersuit.
"Frankly: the armour cannot survive a direct hit," the elcor explained, honestly. "The design core is weak. Non-direct hits would do just fine, but any blast stronger than a standard plasma rifle directly to the chestplate would cause the entire set to fall apart." He watched as she pulled a second belt of pouches from the box and laid it aside as well, before giving another agitated grunt. "Frustrated: I was only informed that this design failed safety rating testing after I received it from the manufacturer," he told her. "Once it was brought to their attention that they had sent me a defective unit, they refused to take it back or offer me a refund for the sets. The experience left such a bad taste in my mouth that I have not bothered buying any human armour since. I still haven't been able to get rid of this set."
"It's a nice set," Shepard conceded, lifting a female breastplate from the box and admiring it. It was a deep beetle grey, the material thick and textured, but she could easily see the design flaw. The welded lines converged in the middle of the chest, making it an easy bullseye for a direct blast to break it apart into clearly-defined pieces. Still, the large, hefty design of the suit as a whole made it hard to pass up. Returning the breastplate to the crate, Shepard looked up at the elcor merchant, raising her brows. "How much were you looking to get for the female set?" she asked, picking up one of the belts and returning it dutifully to the box as well.
The elcor stared down at the crate, snuffling thoughtfully, before looking up at Shepard again, his beady eyes hopeful. "Fairly: I can sell you both sets at half their original price," he told her. "The female and the male. That is the lowest I can go. But you would have to buy both of them."
Shepard hesitated, running her hand over the material of the female undersuit, before picking it up and returning it to the crate as well. "Can I at least try them on before I decide?" she asked, looking up at the merchant. "Is there someplace I can see if they fit me before I…?"
"Of course," the elcor returned, nodding his bulbous head. "Helpfully: the tent behind my shop is mostly used for storage, but my stock has been low lately so it should have plenty of room for you to change in it. I also happen to have a mirror. I salvaged it from a quarian dump site. I could not sell it because it was broken, but it is still plenty good for casual use. You are lucky."
"Very lucky," Shepard agreed.
"Right this way," the elcor told her, dropping back onto all fours, leaving her to carry the crate. The armor itself was substantial enough, but both sets, along with the robust metal crate they were in, made for one heavy package. Still, Shepard tried to keep her heavy breathing to a minimum as she followed the merchant through the workings of his stand to a tiny tent erected just behind the storefront, not wanting him to think she was so easily tired out. Once they reached the tent, the elcor pushed aside the flap for her, allowing her to duck inside, where she gladly set the crate down again, propping her hands on her hips as she took a quick look around.
The tent seemed secluded enough to change in, the foundation well-grounded and the door hefty enough to not blow open at the first sign of a breeze. Shepard had no real qualms about taking her clothes off in front of people – people were people, skin was skin – but she figured it would probably be in her best interest not to create an exhibitionist scene on an unfamiliar planet in the middle of an important war where she was meant to be a figurehead. Nodding her thanks to the elcor merchant, she turned instead towards the full-length mirror sitting in the corner of the tent, noting the large, horizontal crack running the length of it from one side of the frame to the other. It was a small mirror, clearly intended for someone smaller than herself, but she figured she could still get a clear idea of how well her armour fit even if she could not see every bit of her own reflection.
Pulling her hoodie up over her head, she draped it over a nearby stack of boxes, following it first with her boots, and then her pants. She let out a soft, almost involuntary sigh of relief as her pants came off, allowing her to breathe much easier as the tightness around her midriff was released. Checking her reflection in the mirror, she frowned, running a tentative hand over the noted curve of her stomach, visible even under her thin undershirt. Then, turning away from the mirror again, she instead bent down to the crate of armour, pulling out the female undersuit and stepping into it.
The female undersuit, while not nearly as uncomfortably tight as her current suit, was still a big snug around the middle, making her have to take a deep breath in before forcing the zipper up all the way. When she breathed out again, she could feel the stiff material pressing up against her abdomen, but when she checked her reflection in the mirror, she found that it did not show nearly as much as she had feared it might. In fact, while she could not deny the creeping discomfort of the suit's tautness against her stomach region, she had to admit that it did a commendable job of hiding her girth. Still, she knew that this undersuit would not last her forever, and so, unzipping the suit, she set it aside beside the armour crate, fishing the male undersuit out of the box and stepping into it instead.
The male cut undersuit was significantly larger than the female one, and did not take much effort at all to zip up the back. It had clearly been made for someone wider and taller than she was, as the stitching at the shoulders slid down at least half an inch on each arm, causing her to have to push the sleeves up to be able to use her hands. The male undersuit was made of the same stiff, dependable material as the female cut, and its looseness allowed her much more freedom to move around, but the downside came when she checked her reflection in the mirror and found that the undersuit's forgiveness also allowed her waistline to extend comfortably outward, making her baby bump painfully visible in the shapeless suit.
"Shit," Shepard sighed, running a worrying hand over her stomach again. It was not something that would draw immediate attention to her condition should a casual onlooker spot her out of armour, but the fact that she could actually see it now where she had to look for it before still worried her. Turning away from the mirror, Shepard began to dig in the crate again, pulling out the larger of the two abdominal guards and strapping it around her waist, pulling it just tightly enough that she would still be able to easily bend while wearing it. Then, satisfied that her abdomen was sufficiently covered, she heaved the breastplate from the box, pulling it on over her head and securing it into place over the abdominal guard. The shoulder-guards were next to be added, followed by the upper-arm and forearm guards, before she returned her attention to the crate of armour, finally pulling out both of the artillery belts with a satisfied grin like a child set free in a candy store.
If nothing else, these belts had been what had really sold her. Clipping one of the belts securely around her hips, she then attached the other, smaller one around her waist, setting to work adjusting it so that it sat comfortably over her stomach, all but hiding the curve from sight. Just then, the sound of shifting material made her turn on her heel just in time to see Garrus ducking his tall form through the doorflap of the tiny, makeshift tent, and she quickly yanked the strap of the abdominal guard, pulling it as tightly as possible, knocking out her own breath a bit in the process. Straightening to his full height again, Garrus looked around at the odd little storage unit, and as soon as his gaze came to rest on Shepard, he paused, before letting out a short snort of laughter, bringing up a clawed hand to cover his mouth, albeit a bit too late.
"Shepard," he commented, trying to sound as casual as possible. "You look…" He faltered, giving her a telling once-over, his mouth hanging open as he tried to figure out how to put his feelings into words. "…Prepared," he finally concluded. "Or, at the very least, I doubt you'll run out of ammo ever again."
"Very funny, Garrus," Shepard smirked, deadpan, trying to hide her panic as she turned around to look at her reflection in the cracked mirror again. "I'll be sure to keep that smart remark in mind if you ever run out of ammo in the field and come begging me for a reload."
"Oh, now, there's no need to be cruel," Garrus joked back, moving over towards the mirror and sitting down on a nearby crate. Leaning down, he rested his elbows casually against his knees, watching her as she examined her appearance in the full-length mirror. "You look fine, Shepard. Carrying a little extra weight never hurt anyone."
Shepard blanched, freezing momentarily as she stared at her reflection in the mirror, biting back the sudden, overwhelming urge to check if she were still showing. Between the hefty build of the armour and the double line of pouches, she had been certain that everything had been sufficiently covered, but his offhanded comment had her just about ready to bolt. Still, she quickly regained her composure, lifting her short hair from the line of her neck to admire the reinforced neck-guard, turning her head to make sure she still had a full visual radius within its confines. "You're just jealous they don't make this model in turian fit," she told him, letting her hair fall back down. Then, turning to look back at him again, she propped an inquisitive hand on her hip, frowning a bit. "How did you find me here, anyway?" she asked, her gaze moving from Garrus to the flap of the tent, and then back to Garrus again. It was completely closed now, and had been completely closed when he had first come in, meaning there was no way he could have seen her changing from the street.
Garrus shrugged, nonchalantly, and shifted a bit in his seat on the crate to make himself more comfortable. "Easy," he told her. "I just listened for the sound of suspiciously specific justifications for otherwise arbitrary activities and followed that."
"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean," Shepard told him, turning to look at her reflection again.
"Then I'm sure it's just standard procedure to tell everyone in the entire crew exactly how you ripped your undersuit and where," Garrus pointed out, sitting up again to cross his arms and prop one ankle across the opposite knee. "That's not the Shepard I know. The Shepard I know would just say 'I need to get something' and that would be the end of it." He paused, allowing his statement to sink in. Then, sighing softly, he tilted his head to one side, empathetically. "There's something else you're not telling everyone, and that's okay," he told her, shaking his head. "You don't have to tell us if you don't want to. Just don't presume that we're too dumb to know when something is actually wrong. We can always tell, Shepard."
"Garrus…" Shepard sighed, dropping her gaze to the ground. She faltered, gritting her teeth, deciding how much she wanted to say. Then, turning to look back at him again, she raised her brows, hopeful. "I promise, I'm just here for a new set of armour," she told him. "I appreciate you and everyone else worrying about me, but… there's really nothing to worry about. I swear. I just busted up my armour and needed a new set. That's all there is to it."
Garrus stared at her, clearly not believing what she was saying. Then, letting out another soft, defeated sigh, he shrugged, finally allowing the subject to drop. Satisfied that an uncomfortable situation had been successfully avoided, Shepard turned her attention back to the crate of armour again. With her abdominal guard tightened all the way, it was a bit harder to bend down to the crate, but she still managed to pull a knee-guard from its depths, which she quickly set to locking it into place, bending her leg back behind her to test that the gearwork allowed for fully functional mobility.
"Did you find what you were looking for, by the way?" she asked, satisfied with the functionality of the knee-guard. Returning to the crate for the next piece of armour, she pulled out a hefty boot, which she placed on the ground, followed by another. Not even bothering to try to squat, she simply sat herself down on the floor, pulling the armoured boots over her socked feet, locking them into place one at a time. As with the rest of the suit, the boots were a bit big for her normal size, but she figured if it came down to it she could always mix and match parts and pieces with her other, smaller set. Her teammates would just have to deal with her field armour having a slight colour discrepancy.
Garrus nodded, watching with detached interest as she put on the boots, before standing up again and checking how they looked in the mirror. "More or less," he admitted, offhandedly. "I mean, I didn't really come down with anything in mind. I mostly just browsed." He took in a deep breath then, before lifting his chin and looking up at her, intently. "I had come down here with the intent to spend a little more time with you," he admitted, pointedly. "But once we got down here, I figured you probably wanted some alone time. I… could kind-of tell from how you booked it first thing after we got our equalizers."
"Sorry about that," Shepard apologized, sheepishly. "I was just… I had a lot on my mind."
"Anything you want to talk about?" Garrus offered.
"Not really," Shepard answered, quickly. Gripping the edge of the crate, she strained to pull herself upright, finally managing to drag herself to her feet before turning away from Garrus again and frowning as she rested her hands on her hips, staring intently at her reflection in the mirror. She barely recognized herself anymore; dark, ringed circles peered out from under her green eyes, and though her neck and shoulders had thinned a bit from poor diet and lack of sleep, her once clearly-cut jawline had softened. Her swollen ankles made small, sore bulges in the legs of the undersuit, causing the armoured boots to squeeze gently against the flesh, just uncomfortably enough to make her wonder if this larger size of boot might not be a better fit after all. Most notable of all, however, was her profile. Even in her armour, with her undersuit pushing everything together, her midriff had still filled out to more than before, despite the new, better-fitting abdominal guard. Her sleek, toned stomach was gone, replaced with something nearly one and a half times its original size.
Resisting the urge to grimace at her changing anatomy, Shepard dropped her hands to her sides again, digging the toe of her boot into the ground in worried thought. Then, turning away from the mirror again, she looked back at Garrus, who was staring intently at something on the ground, paying no attention to her dilemma. "Did you mean what you said?" she suddenly asked, causing him to look up at her, curious. "The other day. In the gun battery."
Garrus hesitated, surprised by the question, blinking a few times as he tried to think of an appropriate response. "About what?" he finally asked, trying hard not to smile through his query. "About Gardener's food looking suspicious? I mean, it was meant as a joke, but if I'm being honest…"
"No, not that," Shepard answered, shaking her head and holding back a half-smile at his teasing. "Not Gardener. About, you know… us. About marriage, and… a baby."
At this, Garrus paused, his smile fading from his face a bit as he considered how to respond to what seemed to be a loaded question. "Well, I mean… I was just being facetious about the baby thing, of course," he finally answered, candidly. "I know there's no such thing as a baby for us, unless we were to adopt."
Shepard hesitated, folding her arms across her ribcage and digging the heel of her boot anxiously into the dirt floor of the tent. "Would you be… interested in adopting?" she finally asked, raising her brows, attentive.
"Well… sure," Garrus answered automatically, shrugging his plated shoulders, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world. "There's bound to be plenty of orphans left over after this war lets up. Plenty of kids in need of homes for us to choose from."
Shepard nodded, understandingly. "And… what about marriage?" she asked, resisting the urge to wince at the word.
"What about it?" Garrus returned, testing her.
Shepard shrugged, dismissively, turning her attention to the mirror again. "Would you… I don't know," she said, turning to examine her side view while trying her hardest to sound offhanded. "Would you… still be interested in that?"
Garrus considered this for a moment, thoughtful. Then, finally, he let out a soft, decisive exhale. "Well… yeah, sure," he told her, nodding agreeably. "I mean, I'd be interested in getting married. Once this war is over, of course." Here, he paused, before frowning up at her, faintly. "I didn't really think you were into that sort of thing, though," he admitted. "I think I remember you specifically telling me once how you thought marriage was 'antiquated' and 'ritualistic'. Or am I remembering incorrectly?"
"No, you're right," Shepard agreed, nodding. "I did say that. And you're also right that it's not really my thing."
"So then why do you ask?" Garrus asked, inquisitive.
Shepard shrugged, turning the other way in her reflection, before facing the mirror head-on and opening one of the pouches at her waist, poking her finger around inside to check the depth of it. "Just… curious, is all, I guess," she finally said, closing the pouch again, satisfied.
Garrus considered this for a moment, watching her, as if expecting some sort of follow-up to this vague explanation. Then, finally seeming to realize that he was not going to get anything else out of her, he let out a short, defeated huff of breath. "Hm," he grunted, not entirely satisfied but not wanting to press the matter. "Well, you know what they say. Curiosity destroyed the cat."
Shepard turned to look back at him again, opening her mouth, prepared to correct him, but then, reconsidering, she closed it again, instead letting out a soft, sated sigh and returning her attention to her reflection in the broken mirror. "…Close enough," she conceded.
Shepard had gladly taken Cortez up on his offer of helping her to carry the heavy crate of armour from the Kodiak up to her quarters. On most days she would have insisted she do it herself, but today she figured she should at least try to seem like she was being sociable with her crew. Too many people had pointed out to her that she was starting to become edgy and antisocial, and Cortez was a good man, too good to feel like she might have had some sort of arbitrary prejudice against him for whatever reason. Cortez chatted casually with her as they waited for the Normandy elevator to take them to the topmost floor of the ship, telling her all about the improvements he and Vega had made to the Kodiak, and when they reached her quarters she let him head inside first to set the crate down on the floor beside her bed.
Cortez admired her cabin for a bit, complimenting her impressive model ship collection and cooing genially at her hamster, before finally offering her a quick, parting salute and returning to the elevator to make his way back down to the hangar and continue his work. It had never really occurred to Shepard before how few members of her crew had ever actually seen the inside of her cabin – she had always had something of an open door policy, allowing crew members to come and go more or less as they pleased. However, many of them had apparently decided not to take her up on the invitation, instead preferring to stay in their more immediate comfort areas. Pushing the heavy crate closer to her armour closet, Shepard sat down on her bed with a sigh, resting her booted foot against the edge of the box and staring idly down at her stomach, hidden from sight under the bulk of her hoodie.
"What am I going to do with you?" she mused. Laying back on the bed, she stared up at the clear-panelled ceiling, watching the waves of stars drifting above her cabin with an almost detached captivation, before pushing up her hoodie and letting her hands rest, peacefully, over her stomach. "You know I can't keep you," she added, quietly, more to herself than anyone else. She paused then, passing her thumb thoughtfully over the curve of her stomach as she continued to stare up at the expanse of space. "…But what if I did?" she suddenly asked. "What if I kept you anyway? Who would stop me?" The answer immediately came to mind: Hackett, Javik, the Council… any number of people who depended on her to do her job, and do it without distraction. After all, she had not become the first human Spectre by doing what she felt was best for her.
Pulling her hoodie down over her stomach again, she frowned, letting her hands fall to rest on either side of her on the bed. The more she thought about the situation, the more she resented the idea that the prestigious title she had once regarded so highly as a mark of her accomplishments now seemed to be welding her in place, forcing her into a position of militaristic selflessness so absolute that it made no room for her to exist outside of her identity as a Spectre. Giving the crate of armour at her feet a frustrated, almost child-like kick, Shepard coaxed herself up into a sitting position again, letting out a hard, agitated huff of breath, before pushing herself up off the bed and making her way for the door of her cabin. She wondered how hard it would be to convince Gardener to fix her something simultaneously sweet and salty to hopefully curb the urges she had been finding harder and harder to ignore for the past several days.
If nothing else, she figured, it was at least worth a try to ask.
It took only a day or two for them to get from the Phoenix Massing cluster to the Far Rim, just as Joker had predicted, and it did not take much longer after their arrival for them to find the quarian envoy ship waiting patiently for them in the exact spot they said they would be. Shepard paced the war room anxiously, looking up at the door every so often as she waited for Shala'Raan and the rest of the Admirals to arrive. Though she knew the quarian Admiralty board to be an undisputed group of military professionals, she still found the idea of trying to negotiate anything solid with them to be unpleasant, as each of them had strong resolutions of their own and no apparent qualms in sharing them at any given opportunity. What might have started as a debate on one topic could easily be sidetracked into something else entirely in a matter of minutes.
At the sound of the war room door sliding open, Shepard looked up, folding her arms thoughtfully as she watched the Admirals filing in, with Shala'Raan taking the lead and Daro'Xen holding up the back. Upon entering the war room, the Admirals quickly spread out, taking up positions at intervals along the perimeter of the holographic war console, with Shala'Raan willingly taking the position closest to Shepard. "Commander Shepard," she greeted her, raising a hand in salutation. "It's good to see you again… though I wish it were under better circumstances."
"Same," Shepard agreed, a bit taken aback by the solemn tone the meeting seemed to be taking on from the get-go. "I'd hoped for your support in the fight against the Reapers… what's going on?"
Without bothering to answer her question, Han'Gerrel instead pulled up his omni-tool, entering a command into it, before pressing the reader on the back of his hand to a small, built-in scanner on the war console's hub, allowing it to sync. Instantly the holographic display flashed, humming faintly as it read the new information, before flickering back into life, now displaying what looked to be a fleet of small, mismatched, but familiar-looking ships. "Seventeen days ago, with precision strikes on four geth systems, the quarians initiated the war to retake our homeworld," Gerrel reported, frankly, allowing his omni-tool to flicker out again.
"Which was a clear violation of our agreement with the council to avoid provoking the geth!" Rael'Koris put in, exasperated, causing Shepard to look in his direction. Already it seemed that the board's personal prejudices were going to make this just as long a meeting as she had initially feared. Still, she figured there was no harm in letting them air their differences here at the beginning, as long as it did not continue throughout the entirety of the conference.
"A treaty violation is nothing compared to recovering our homeworld and advanced AI technology," Daro'Xen was quick to point out, turning to look at Koris, irritatedly.
"Your homeworld?" Shepard asked, turning to look at Xen now, interested. "You mean Rannoch?"
"Correct, Commander," Raan answered, gently, drawing her attention away again. "Three hundred years ago, we lost a war to our own AI creations, the geth."
"After we attempted to kill them," put in Koris, bluntly.
At this, Xen heaved a heavy, long-suffering sigh. "We didn't try to kill them, Koris," she corrected, sounding almost as if she were disappointedly scolding a child for spilling something messy. "We tried to deactivate them. It wasn't murder."
Shepard frowned, finding herself immensely bothered by something in Xen's tone but unable to place exactly what it was. "No," she told her, shaking her head, resolutely. "It was murder."
"Commander," Raan pleaded, causing Shepard to turn her way again. "The quarians never intended to create a true AI. It was an accident."
"Which you chose to correct by trying to kill them," Shepard returned, unwavering.
"Don't bother," Koris told her, shaking his head as he crossed his arms over his chest, disgusted. "Admitting we were wrong would undercut the justification for this suicidal invasion plan."
At this, Shepard faltered, taking a moment to process this casually-dropped information, before turning to look at Gerrel again, accusatory. "You're throwing yourselves at the geth?" she insisted, harshly. "Again?"
"And this time, we may have destroyed our people for good," Koris agreed, sounding just as appalled by the thought.
Sighing softly, Gerrel pulled up his omni-tool again, inputting a new command. Almost instantly, the holographic display changed, the ships rotating off to one side as the hub was filled instead with the image of a large planet surrounded by small floating ships and a series of indicative, yellow-green points of light. "We'd driven the geth back to the home system when this signal began broadcasting to all geth ships," he told her, pointing to the flashing lights with his free hand.
"The Reapers," Shepard growled, gritting her teeth.
"Under Reaper control, the geth are significantly more effective," Gerrel went on, matter-of-factly. "Our fleet is pinned in the home system. If we're going to win—"
"Win?!" Koris demanded, quickly cutting over him. "You insisted on involving the civilian ships, Admiral Gerrel! We need to retreat or we'll lose the live ships!"
"Where's the signal coming from?" Shepard asked, her attention still fixed on the holographic display.
"Here," Gerrel answered, helpfully, using his omni-tool to zoom in on one particular ship in the display. "The geth dreadnaught. It can outgun anything we've got and it's heavily defended."
Shepard thought a moment, considering the slowly-spinning image of the dreadnaught. "The Normandy's stealth drive can get us in undetected," she finally told him, looking over at Gerrel again, hopefully. "I could board, then disable the Reaper command signal."
"Yes," Xen mused, bringing up a hand to tap thoughtfully at the breathing-cup of her mask. "Cutting off the signal should throw the geth into complete disarray."
"And while they're confused, you get to a mass relay and retreat," Shepard agreed, looking at each Admiral in turn to make sure they understood her instructions.
In return, Koris nodded, satisfied with this turn of events. "Good," he told her, contented. "Our civilian ships have seen too much fighting already. Though, are you certain you can disable the signal?"
"We'll get you out of there safely, Admiral," Shepard assured him, offering a supportive nod in his direction. Just then, the sound of the double-doors of the war room opening again caught her attention, and she looked up just in time to see two more quarian figures appear in the doorway. Raan turned as well, looking back towards the newcomers, before turning back towards Shepard again and putting an embarrassed hand to the side of her mask.
"Oh, Commander," Raan said, suddenly sounding a bit flustered. "I almost forgot. Our newest Admiral has also volunteered to offer technical expertise, and our newest fleet defence Lieutenant Commander has volunteered to offer up his strategic expertise as well, if you need it."
Not even bothering to wait for the end of her introduction, the first quarian entered the war room, followed closely by the second, a much taller quarian dressed all in red who kept his hands tucked respectfully behind his back, allowing the Admiral he followed to take centre stage. "Admiral Tali'Zorah Vas Normandy and Lieutenant Commander Kal'Reegar, reporting for duty," Tali beamed, straightening her thin shoulders proudly.
Shepard faltered, surprised, before raising her brows and smiling back at the mismatched pair. "Glad you could make it, Tali," she told the tiny quarian. "And you too, Reegar. It's been a while since I heard from you. I was afraid you might have died fighting over on Palaven."
"Not dead yet, ma'am," Reegar returned, quiet but genial.
Shepard nodded in approval, before turning her attention towards the rest of the quarian Admiralty board once more. "Admirals, I'll ready a team to hit that Dreadnaught," she told them. "With Kal'Reegar and Tali'Zorah's expertise, we should be ready to go in under a few hours."
"Thank you, Commander," Raan agreed, nodding. Then, with the conversation absolved, she turned away from the war console, followed by the others, who slowly peeled off one at a time to filter out through the war room door and back in the direction of the Migrant Fleet to wait.
Turning her attention towards Tali and Reegar once more, Shepard smirked, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her hoodie as she approached them. Tali began to approach her as well, Reegar following dutifully behind her, and it did not take long for the two women to meet in the middle, with each giving the other a friendly check over. "Admiral?" Shepard finally asked, breaking the conversational ice.
Tali considered for a moment, before finally shrugging. "It's mostly a formality," she answered, offhandedly. "I'm an expert on the geth."
"That you are," Shepard agreed, smiling. Then, turning her attention to the much taller quarian in red, she gave him a good once-over as well. He appeared professional, as always, but there was something different about him now, something she could not quite place her finger on. "So," she said, grinning up at him, inquisitive. "Commander Reegar. It's got a nice ring to it."
"Lieutenant Commander," Reegar was quick to correct her, giving a short bob of his helmeted head. "Not a Commander just yet, ma'am. Probably not for a while still." He hesitated, before giving a soft, teasing breath of a laugh. "Still have to answer to your authority," he added. "At least for a little while."
"He's so modest," Tali chuckled, reaching back to tap Reegar fondly on the upper arm with the back of her hand. "But in all honesty, he's the best marine we've got, and we're lucky to have him. He's been offered positions elsewhere, all across the galaxy, but he turned them all down to continue working with the Migrant Fleet."
"My research is only half-done, ma'am," Reegar told her, turning his head earnestly. "To abandon it at this point for the sake of personal gain would be irresponsible." Then, looking up again, he shrugged his broad shoulders. "Besides," he added. "The Migrant Fleet is my home. The quarians are my people. I wouldn't dream of abandoning my people when we're right on the brink of an important push to retake the homeworld."
"Which we wouldn't be if not for you," Tali told him, folding her arms comfortably across her ribcage. "In the last six months, Lieutenant Commander Reegar has led countless counterstrikes against attacking geth forces. If not for him, we'd probably still be playing cat and mouse with the geth at this point. It's only because of him we're so close to taking back Rannoch."
"I'm just a soldier, ma'am," Reegar answered, bowing his head, and Shepard could swear he was blushing inside his helmet.
"He still insists on calling me ma'am, though," Tali added, turning her attention back to Shepard, sounding just a bit exasperated, if amused. "No matter how many times I've told him not to, he keeps doing it. Sometimes I wonder if he does it on purpose."
"Old habits die hard," Reegar told her, shrugging innocently. "I'll try to do better next time."
"You won't," Tali told him, looking back at him again.
"Probably," Reegar agreed, sighing. "But at least I'll try, ma'am. Tali. …Ma'am."
"Stop it," Tali insisted, laughing.
"Yes, ma'am," Reegar replied.
"Stop it," Tali repeated, firmer.
Reegar faltered, looking up at Shepard now, desperately searching her for an idea of what to say now that his go-to response had been taken away. Then, looking down at Tali again, he leaned in towards her, tapping the breathing apparatus of his mask against hers and causing her to lift a shy hand to her helmet, surprised. "Bosh'tet," she murmured, looking away, unable to hide the embarrassed smile in her voice. Then, looking up at Shepard again, she tilted her head, fondly. "I'm glad you're here, Shepard," she told her.
"If I'd known it was this bad, I would have come sooner," Shepard answered, frankly. "I didn't hear anything from anyone in the Migrant Fleet, so I… guess I figured things were doing okay." She bit her lip, trying hard not to make an anxious face. In truth, she had been so distracted with everything else going on that she had completely neglected to do the work of checking up on the Fleet, herself, but Tali merely shrugged, shaking her head and dismissing the apology.
"You've had your own troubles," Tali told her, understandingly. "I'm sorry about Earth. And Palaven. You are still seeing Garrus, right? Is that still going on?" Shepard opened her mouth, preparing to answer, before quickly closing it again, realizing she did not know how. Tali paused, taken aback, before turning to look back at Reegar behind her, almost accusatorily. "Excuse you," she told him, playfully. "This is girl talk."
"I'll leave," Reegar agreed, quickly, before moving past Tali further into the war room, distancing himself from the women and their conversation. Looping her arm through Shepard's, Tali turned the two of them away from the war station, instead leading her out through the door and into the adjoining meeting-room. The glass door of the room slid open to admit them, before gliding quietly closed again once they were inside. Sliding her arm out of Shepard's, Tali moved away from her towards the meeting-table, turning around to push herself up onto it, letting her trim legs dangle over the side.
"Kal is a good person," she suddenly spoke up again, unexpectedly. "I adore him, of course, and I trust him with my life. I just…" She paused again, looking down at the floor and leaning the palms of her hands back against the sleek surface of the meeting-room table. "I don't always feel comfortable discussing war things with him around," she admitted, almost sheepishly. "He's very… amenable, so I feel like I can't be totally honest around him because otherwise he might adapt to my ideologies to try to get along. I like him to think for himself. It keeps things interesting. Keeps him on his toes when it comes to his strategies. If he's just trying to please people… me, I guess… I'm not sure he'll be thinking totally objectively."
"That makes sense," Shepard agreed, leaning against the wall of the meeting-room and folding her arms in return. "He's very intelligent, though, so I don't think you have to worry about that. He just likes to get along, is all. I doubt he would let it interfere with his ability to do his work."
"I guess you're right," Tali agreed, nodding thoughtfully. "Still, it's nice to have some one-on-one time. Men can be so clingy sometimes, you know? I'd always heard that women were the clingy ones."
"It goes both ways," Shepard answered, fairly. "Women can be pretty clingy, too. It's less of a relationship thing, though, and more of a…" She paused, trying to think of a good word for it. "Maybe 'clingy' isn't the right word for it," she finally conceded, shaking her head. "Maybe 'actually wanting the relationship to feel like a relationship when the other person isn't pulling their weight' is a better way to describe it."
"I'll be sure to remember that if I ever end up being in a relationship with you," Tali chuckled.
"I'm a free spirit," Shepard joked back, self-deprecating. "Can't be tied down."
Tali chuckled again, tickled by Shepard's teasing. Then, pushing herself off the table and onto her feet again, she turned away from the Commander, starting towards the wide, panoramic window of the meeting-room. She paused for a moment, thoughtful, as she stared out at the vast expanse of stars, then, letting out a soft sigh, she leaned her hands tiredly against the edge of the window, letting her gaze drop down to the floor. "We've got the largest fleet in the galaxy," she said, solemn, strictly business once again. "If you can help us, we'll hit the Reapers with everything we've got… or, however much is left from this stupid war."
At this, Shepard frowned, uncrossing her arms and pushing herself away from the wall again. "I thought you'd support the invasion," she admitted, moving up to stand behind Tali at the window.
Looking up at the sea of stars again, Tali shook her head. "No," she answered, decisively. "After talking to Legion, I thought maybe there was a chance for peace."
"But wait," Shepard countered. "I thought you were just talking up Kal'Reegar's accomplishments in the field. How—?"
"Kal's accomplishments were not offensive, they were defensive," Tali cut her off, correcting her. "He protected us from strikes the geth were making against us. His actions kept us safe. He did not order any measures that were not necessary for the continued wellbeing of the fleet." Going silent again, she shrugged, staring intently at the starry sky outside the meeting-room window. "Kal claims to be a soldier, but he's a scientist at heart," she went on, quieter. "He believes in a peaceful war just as much as I do. He wants to retake the homeworld just as much as anyone else, but not as a bloody spoil of war. He just wants someplace to finish his research and help people. That's all he's ever wanted."
"So why are you helping them?" Shepard asked, confused.
"I'm an Admiral," Tali told her, fairly, turning to look at her again. "People look to me for guidance. A disagreement would divide the fleet." Here, she paused, faltering, uncertain, before looking at the ground with a soft, overwhelmed sigh. "Keelah," she breathed. "I wish it were not all so difficult."
Reaching out, Shepard ran an encouraging hand up Tali's thin upper arm, causing the petite quarian to look up at her, surprised. "I'll get your people out of here safely, Tali," Shepard promised, offering a reassuring smile.
Tali hesitated, staring uncertainly at the Commander, before her glowing eyes finally narrowed through her helmet in what Shepard guessed was a comforted smile. "Thanks, Shepard," she said, reaching up a hand to rest on top of Shepard's on her arm. "And… just so you know, I need to keep things strictly business in front of the Admirals, but I'd love to catch up on other things later. Somewhere a little more private."
"Sure thing," Shepard agreed, retrieving her hand.
At this reassurance, Tali nodded, grateful. Then, taking a deep, readying breath, she squared her thin shoulders, lifting her head determinedly. "I'm ready to hit that dreadnaught whenever you are, Shepard," she told her.
"Good," Shepard answered, jerking her thumb indicatively over her shoulder. "Let's go."