It had been asleep for three hours, and Garrus was starting to worry. After leaving the meeting he had dumped the alien on the storage room floor, ensured every crate was secured and safe from wandering fingers, then shut the door and locked it behind him. Every now and then he would check in the room by connecting to the camera via his omni tool, only to see that nothing had changed, and the alien was still.
Turians only needed up to four hours sleep, and most of the crew took those separately on rotating shifts. Three hours in one sitting seemed like an excessive amount; and the fact that he would be held personally responsible if it died throbbed in the back of his mind.
He was considering shaking it awake when the long-suffering Dr. Curae wandered down the corridor to greet him. At 6"3 he was short for a turian, with pale yellow face markings and a curiously blank expression. He had short head spikes, a stiff, awkward posture, and was covered from the elbows down in red blood.
"The other Taylors in here?" He said, mandibles twitching.
"Err, yeah. Taylors?"
"I've been reading the Palaven reports. Apparently the one there referred to itself as a Taylor."
Garrus nodded and led the way inside. The Taylor was still sprayed out on the floor, much to the doctor's horror. Curae reprimanded him severely for his "heartless attitude," and then forced Garrus to go collect a medical cot while he began his examination.
That in itself proved to be a tedious task. The medbay was on the other side of the deck, and so he was forced to pass the eating area. Nearly the entire ground team was seated around silver tables, laughing and joking about the successful mission as they ate. Ira spotted him stomping past, and stretched one arm out in a friendly beckon.
"Garrus, come join us." She called, indicating to the empty seat next to her.
He shook his head and continued marching without a glance in her direction. Ira could forgive him later, and Garrus was distracted by the battle raging on in his conscience.
Seeing the doctor treat the enemy with some dignity was making him think twice about his own actions. He still believe it had deserved his harsh retaliation during the attack; but now, maybe, he should adopt a gentler approach. It couldn't exactly fight back when it was dying. Garrus imagined how he'd feel if a squad of strange creatures suddenly boarded the ship and shot anyone insight. If he was brutally honest with himself, it hadn't stooped to anything he wouldn't do for his own crewmates.
Entering the medbay, he was surprised to discover it was not as busy as he'd imagined. Only three of the eight cots were in use, and two of those occupants were sitting up and chatting merrily about their last shore leave. Vestre, however, was motionless. Garrus went to stand by his bed with a gulp.
Only one eye was visible, the rest of Vestre's face was covered in bandages. No doubt to keep it held together. His visor read the turian's life signs, and Garrus was happy to see almost healthy readings. He'd live, though with a few scars.
"I'll come visit you later, Vestre." He promised before getting back to the job at hand, turning away reluctantly. With some difficultly, he wrestled a flimsy cot down the corridor. Dragging it proved easier than actual lifting, and the legs scraped loudly against the floor as he passed the eating turians once again. That earned him more than a few odd looks, and he glanced towards a frowning Ira before disappearing behind the wall and back to the storage room, pride successfully stung. Frustration made his actions a little too rough, and he struggled to make the damn thing fit; forced to pivot the bed on its side to even get it through the doorway. Dr. Curae regarded him impassively, and said nothing as Garrus cradled the Taylor in his arms and settled it on the bed. He even plumped up the pillows, but was met with nothing but a flinty silence in return. Garrus cleared his throat. "So, doc, whats wrong with it?"
"Her." Curae said, beginning to strip the Taylor of its bloody clothes.
"It's a she?" He averted his eyes to the ceiling as Curae exposed her waist.
"I believe so. Apart from the more er obvious signs, Dr. Solus reported that a certain swelling on the chest indicates the subject is female," he said waving his hands vaguely over her, "he suspects it has something to do with birthing. What I can't imagine. Here, hold this."
He took the bloody rags and watched as Curae poked and prodded, vibrating his mandibles in little 'hmms' and 'ahhs'. After a few minutes of this Garrus was sure the doctor was making it up as he went, and felt an impatient rumble of a growl travel up his chest and ruffle his own mandibles.
"Hm, yes, very interesting."
"What is?" He said through clenched teeth.
"Notice the dots on her cheeks? I was wondering if they were tribal markings, or perhaps an indication to rank."
"I think they're just part of its skin."
"Her skin."
He shrugged, regarding the Taylor darkly. "Why is it still asleep?"
Corae shuffled and shrugged, currently bending her arm and prodding the soft skin underneath. "I er, I'm not sure. It's possible they just sleep for longer periods than we do. Or, more likely, that you really did a number on the little thing when you were choking her."
Garrus turned his head. Ira could never keep her damn mouth shut. "Well, what are you going to do then?"
"Usually I'd slather on some medi-gel. But we don't know if the Taylors are allergic to our medicine. I propose we just let her get some rest and wait."
"You can't be serious, doc." That seemed like the opposite of what they should do, and Garrus felt the prickle of annoyance growing louder, as well as his headache. "Is that what you did with the other one? You're just waiting for the real expert to get here while you watch them die?"
Curae locked his mandibles and – if it was possible – stood even stiffer. "That Taylor is in much poorer condition, so I treated him. I had to take risks. But we can't do that with both in case the medicine ends up deadly. I made a tough call, Vakarian, and now we have to stick with it."
"Understood, doc." Though he still disagreed. They could at least help a little, give her an air mask or something. Doing anything seemed better than doing nothing. She was the control group in some mad experiment, and his principles raged over the fact.
Conversation butchered, the turians continued to examine the Taylor in a stony silence. After bending each extra finger and turning the arms, Curae held her by the foot and brought her leg up, and up, and up. Garrus winced and sucked through his teeth as he slowly brought the Taylor's foot above her head without even hearing a crack.
"That can't be right." Curae said, muttering under his breath.
"Spirits, that's disgusting. Do they even have bones?!"
"Like I said," he gently brought the leg back down and wiped his hands on his medical robes, "best to leave her alone and let her rest until Dr. Solus arrives. I'll check again on her tomorrow."
"Okay, Doc."
Curae returned to the medbay and Garrus back to his station outside the door. It would be another four hours before Ira arrived to relieve him of his duties. That was sure to be enough time for the Taylor to finish sleeping, and he kept his omni-tool on to wait for the inevitable.
Ira would be arriving in five minutes, and the Taylor was still asleep.
Garrus paced outside the door. Eight hours. She had been asleep for eight hours. That couldn't be good, and he faintly considered rushing for the doctor; until he realized Curae wouldn't do anything; except maybe fondle her flexible limbs a bit more, which was nothing short of sickening.
No, he'd just have to wake her up by force, make sure she was okay, then go back to guarding the door until Ira arrived. Maybe he could even give her some of his medi-gel. The asari weren't allergic to it, and she resembled them more than anything. He was sure it would be fine. As long as she didn't die on his watch.
Decision made, he barged into the room with determination set in his mandibles. Garrus did not hesitate under the fear he'd change his mind, and strode to the bed in two long strides. He clutched onto her bony shoulders and shook, gently at first, with a little more force as he got increasingly desperate.
"Wake up. C'mon, just wake up."
"Mass Effect relay in sight." Joker's voice announced throughout the ship. Shepard strode out of the elevator and through the CIC, nodding as Private Jenkins saluted.
"Relay in range, entering transmission sequence."
This would be the first time the Normandy went through a Mass Effect relay, and she noted with a smirk that Joker's voice sounded a little higher than usual.
"We're connected, calculating transmit mass and destination."
It was understandable. She herself was a little nervous. And not just over the new ship. They had been given one objective before leaving Earth:
Find the aliens.
It had been eight years since humanity had discovered Pluto's relay, and they had been expanding their reach to the galaxy ever since. A mere hundred years ago, living on Mars had been just a pipe dream, yet – with the discovery of the mass effect relays – humans now stretched past the Sol system and into new territory. The rulers of the galaxy. Or so they believed, until survivors had returned to Earth in a half broken ship a week ago, reporting wild stories of an alien attack.
With the Normandy's stealth systems, she had the best chance at taking the new species by surprise. Hackett had ordered them to engage fire as soon as contact was made. Anderson had disagreed and urged Shepard to find a peaceful solution. She still wasn't sure which option she would go for.
"Entering relay in three, two, one."
Her niggling thoughts were silenced as the ship was rocketed forward in a blue blur, and she held the back of Joker's seat with one hand while looking out the cockpit windows, smile widening. In a matter of seconds they finished the jump and slowed down in a completely different solar system, all in the space of mere minutes.
"Good job, Joker."
"Good job?!"
Oh no. Shepard mentally kicked herself as the pilot twisted his neck to glare up at her, resisting the urge to wince.
"I just jumped us halfway across the galaxy and hit a target the size of a pinhead perfectly, in a new ship,on my first try. First try. That's not good, that's amazing. Incredible. Fantastic!"
"Astounding?" She supplied with a smirk, noting his struggle to come up with another adjective.
"What? Yeah. Yeah! Astounding."
"Shocking?" Kaiden joined in, sat next to Joker and regarding them both with a fond amusement.
"Ehhh. Not so much shocking. I mean, of course I could do it. More like… like…"
"Unbelievable." Shepard said, Kaiden laughed before continuing their game.
"Preposterous."
"Implausible."
"Farfetched."
"No! None of those things. It's just… it's just good, okay?! Jeez." Joker huffed and turned back to his controls, flicking through orange screens until he found the one he wanted.
Shepard grinned. "I should go." She turned to continue her rounds, she still had to visit Ashley and James.
Suddenly the ship rocked like a seesaw, and she stumbled forward with a grunt.
"What was that?"
The boys were staring at her as if she'd sprouted horns, foreheads creasing into slow, worried, frowns.
"What was what, Commander?" Kaiden murmured, just as the ship rocked again, harder this time.
"That! Didn't you feel it?"
"No. Should I call up Doctor Chakwas?"
The Normandy was now lurching wildly from side to side like a bucking bronco. She was jostled to the point of feeling sick, and Shepard had fallen asleep in the mako before. Another rock sent her to her knees, then flung her backwards to crash onto her head. Compared to her, the others seemed fine, and stood with perfect balance, reaching out to her yet too far to touch.
"Commander, are you okay?"
"Shepard?"
Shepard.
Shepard…
The first thing Shepard noticed was the seven foot tall velociraptor man shaking her by the shoulders.
Actually, that was the only thing she noticed, but it seemed the most pressing in any case. She recognized the blue face markings almost instantly, and her memories on the Normandy rushed back to her so fast it stung her head – or maybe that was the alien shaking her.
"Get off me!" She said, lashing out wildly with one fist. She landed a solid punch against his jaw, then kicked out and rolled onto her feet. The alien was taken by surprise, and he jumped back clutching his face with one hand. He spoke to her in that strange, lilting language, but she could not understand the low growls and clicky purrs, and merely sneered in return.
Backing away, Shepard was soon trapped against a pile of large crates. In fact, similar piles filled up the majority of the small room, with no windows and only one door – that the alien was currently blocking. He held his hands up and murmured more soft grumblings, but it did little and nothing to reassure her, especially with the flanging effect each rumble possessed. Shepard looked around wildly for an exit, and then found her salvation on the roof.
An air vent.
"Hey, listen dinosaur man, don't take another step," she side stepped, slipping in between two piles of crates despite the fact this made her even more trapped. "Don't come any closer."
He did, inching around the bed slowly. In the end it was his hesitation that saved her, and she suddenly pushed at one pile of crates with all her might. He realised what she was doing a second too late, and her last glimpse of the alien was the widening of his eyes before the boxes fell forward and he disappeared underneath them.
Not one for wasting time, she climbed up the stack still standing, and kicked open the vent before clambering into the air ducts and beginning her escape.
Garrus had been trying to calm the Taylor down, cooing silky promises that he wouldn't hurt her, while she retreated into the shadows of the little room.
He hadn't even considered the possibility of her escaping. He was blocking the only exit, and the door was locked even if she did get past him. He had no reason to worry.
Or so he'd thought.
He wasn't sure how, but Garrus found his legs trapped beneath, oh, four or five heavy boxes, watching in horror as two bendy legs disappeared into the air ducts and out of sight.
He had successfully woken her up; and immediately lost her.