SSV Glasgow
Whirl. Shuffle. A soft thump. Hands moved smoothly, weaving and riffling the cards like a professional card dealer. Flip. Whirl. Chair tilted slightly, feet on the table, April paid not the slightest attention to the activity, eyes fixed on the datapad in her hands.
"Greenies are always the hardest to break in," said Erial.
Flip. Flip. Flip. Whirl.
"They come in with two left feet, never know right from left, top or bottom."
The cards were cut and reshuffled before one was laid face down on the table.
"Heck, they never know when to talk and when to shut up." Another card was laid down. "Always trying to buddy up, butting in when they're not wanted."
A third card lay beside its fellows, followed by a fourth and a fifth.
"Mmm hmm," April murmured softly, not looking up from her reading. Erial paused for a moment to consider what she had said.
"They're good for a free drink at least," she admitted grudgingly.
"Not looking up your six?"
"Ha! That's reserved." The deck of cards was dropped on the table as Erial leaned against the table. "I'd rather fresh face present his hook nose up front whenever we go out so he gets maul instead of us."
"Planning to live forever, are you?"
"You betcha. I plan to retire, collect my pension-," a deep inhalation of air before it was expelled gustily, "and spend the rest of my days exploring the galaxy on luxury cruisers."
"When you're hardly going to lift your head out of the galore of drinks and hedonistic parties they're offering on those cruisers, what kind of galaxy are you going to find?" April finally looked up, dropped her feet from the table to the floor. The raised ends of the chair hit the deck with a thump. She reached for the cards in a lithe motion. "Let's see your hand."
The cards were flipped over.
"Blow me." Delighted laughter rang out as Erial's hands were raised high, fingers clicking in celebration when she saw the cards. "Five cards of the same suit!"
"A royal flush." April shook her head in disbelief. "Looks like you'll get that luxury cruise after all."
"You bet!" Laughing brown eyes met blue. A toothy grin flashing in a nut brown face, full of zest and confidence.
You bet. You bet.
The voice seemed to ring in her ears. Startled, April opened her eyes. Erial. The head tucked into the curve of her neck, the soft breaths and the pressure against the length of her body reminded her of where she was. Sighing, she tried to relax for she knew Liara was very tired and needed her rest. Closing her eyes, she blanked her mind but the image stubbornly stayed with her. After several minutes, she gave up the attempt as hopeless and gently extricated herself from her bondmate's clasp. A small inaudible protest was all that Liara made but she didn't wake and continued to slumber. Straightening the blanket to cover her properly, April sat up, shivering when her bare feet met the cold deck.
Looking at the chronometer on her omni-tool, she saw she had slept six hours. Deep of the night on Ilos, a few hours into the morning watch on the Glasgow. Rubbing a hand over her face, she made her way to the bathroom and took a quick shower. As she dried herself, she checked the suit cleaner had finished the cycle. Removing Liara's cleaned undersuit and hardsuit, she hooked hers in the machine, making sure the tubes were connected properly before starting it up for another cleaning cycle. She grabbed clean underwear and socks from the laundry washer. With their duffel down on Ilos, she had to make do with a pair of pants and shirt she got from the quartermaster. She dressed, grabbed the uniform tunic from the wardrobe and pulled it on as she left the cabin quietly. She took the lift down to the wardroom.
It was empty, except for a couple of off duty officers seated at the small bar. She took a small bowl of salad and a cup of coffee after a quick pass along the ration table. After looking around, she sat down at a corner table by a pot of Peace Lily that partially hid her from view. The lettuce and tomatoes were a little wilted but the carrots, black beans and grated cheese more than made up for it. Erial liked carrots. For a moment, a ghostly hand reached for the carrots, poking to form the sticks into a pattern. A giggle. A barely audible whispered remark. She blinked. The carrots had not moved.
Heaving a sigh, she took a sip of coffee and grimaced. It was more bitter than usual. Pushing the cup aside, she speared the beans sullenly and stared at them. She wished the Illusive Man was still alive because then, she could ask him what had happened to the people she lost on Akuze. If he couldn't tell her, she'd flayed the skin off him. Slowly.
Damn him. I hope he's suffering wherever he is right now.
The beans were spared prolong impalement when her omni-tool beeped. Frowning, she forced herself to finish up the salad after reading the message. Why did Dorrin want her at medbay? Did something happen to the expedition team? Not inclined to drink the bitter coffee, she dumped the dirty crockery and coffee into the disposer, rinsed her cup and took a long draught of cold water before hastening to medbay, one deck up. As it was still early, she had clear run of the corridor. To her surprise, Dorrin was standing at the doors to medbay.
He put up a hand when he saw her. "Downside is green, nothing's happening," he said, anticipating her question. "I called you because I thought you might want to see him."
"Who?" she said before realising whom he meant. "Santino is here? I thought you said he's on his way to Earth?"
"He took a turn for the worst from the junk he breathed on Corang. Not sure how that happened but he's brought over here to have his condition stabilised." He turned to the doors which open when he stepped nearer. "Doc has to push the sedatives to the limit."
Jaws clenched tight, she followed him in. They walked down the aisle with rows of empty beds on either side of the room. Sick bay attendants (SBA) worked quietly at various workconsoles. A left turn at the end and they came to the isolation cubicles. A surgeon lieutenant was at the monitoring console outside one of the cubicles. She looked up at their approach and was drawn aside in a quiet discussion with Dorrin. Ignoring them both, April peered in through the viewer window of the cubicle and saw someone lying on the medbed, sheets drawn up. His face could not be seen. She glanced at the lieutenant, then at the patient screen under the window. There was no warning marker.
She went in and approached the head of the medbed as near as she could without disrupting the sterilizing field. Despite the grey that peppered his hair, the lines grooved across his face, the hook nose and round face looked the same under the breathing cone. His eyelids trembled, as if he was in the midst of dreaming. Up close, she was startled by his appearance. His enlistment records put him at ten years younger than she. Now he looked like a battle worn marine who had spent most of his life on the front line. Dorrin moved behind her but said nothing.
"Saben Santino." She crossed her arms, staring down at the unconscious man.
"That's what his DNA profile says." He shifted so he could see her face; hard and set. "Looks like hell, doesn't he?"
"Pleading his case for him?"
"I'm only stating the obvious here," he said evenly, eyeing the gaunt frame of the man, outlined under the covers. "Doc says he has thermal and internal injuries, exacerbated by a period of malnutrition. He's not exactly living it fine in Cerberus."
"What about the chip?" she asked brusquely, ignoring what he let dropped on the extent of Santino's injuries. What did it matter? The man should burn in the darkest pits a thousand times. It wasn't fair, she knew. Santino was merely the cat's paw, probably all unknowing but she couldn't help pinning the blame on him for Akuze.
"According to Miss Lawson, it's an old chip. We didn't have time to discuss much but I sent her an email. She'll forward any information she can dig up on this one."
He eyed her anxiously, wondering if it was a good idea to let her see Santino. The fury simmering in her was palpable. Given the history between them, he would prefer to keep Shepard away from Santino, at least, until the man had made sufficient recovery to provide some satisfactory answers. If he could. It wasn't his call to make however, but Hackett's. The admiral's explanations were too oblique to his liking for it sounded like the old man was angling for some objective of his own. Was there something to be gained in riling Shepard?
"What's there to dig?" she snorted. "He achieved his purpose years ago and now he's mucking around with Cerberus survivors. He should be put on the screws so he could sing out where they are all hiding."
"The chip might not let him."
"I've seen enough."
It was pointless. There was nothing she could learn from staring at an unconscious man who was slowly dying from brain atrophy. She turned away and was about to head out when a faint moan came from the medbed. On looking back, she saw Santino's eyes were opened. Confusion roiled in them as they shifted and blinked before meeting hers. Something glinted in their depths. Was that recognition? Or was it just her fancy? How much of his sanity did he retain?
"Name! Rank!"
Dorrin's sudden bark startled her, she stared at him for a moment before returning her gaze to Santino. His mouth opened, seeming to repeat the question.
"Name! Rank!" Dorrin repeated, curious to know if the man would respond to the sight of a familiar uniform, a familiar command. Were they enough to compel human influence and training to break?
"...ssa..antin ...," the eyes roved to Dorrin's face before settling on April's. "..pfc ... LT?"
"Where's Erial, Santino?" she said after the shock had worn off. Hardly believing he recognised her.
"LT?"
Taking a deep breath, she tried again. "Erial, Santino. You remember her?" She resisted the urge to shout, to reach through the sterilizing field and shake him by the shoulders when he closed his eyes. "Bet you ten you can't make it round the block in five minutes," she said, recalling how Erial had challenged the newest recruit to the unit. "You lost, remember?"
How she wish she could mentally force the answer she wanted out of him. The fury burning within flared even brighter when Santino said nothing.
"Don't you go out on me, private!" she shouted and shook off Dorrin's restraining hand on her shoulder. She took a step closer to the medbed. "Answer me, damn you!"
"Shepard." Dorrin had no idea who was Erial but it must have been someone in the marine unit she was closed to. "Give him time." Hearing footsteps, he turned and waved away the surgeon lieutenant who had come to investigate the noise.
"I thought I was the only one who survived Akuze," she raged. "Then Toombs showed up. A miracle I thought. Now him," she jerked her thumb at Santino as she rounded on Dorrin. "Am I the only one seeing a pattern here? The only one who thinks there could be others?"
"He's as much a victim of Cerberus as the others." Dorrin met her glare unflinchingly. "He might have played a part in what happened at Akuze but that has to be verified. Shepard, you read the report," he said forcefully when she growled in rejection, "unknowing gambits. Why he wasn't eliminated and how he ended up where he was, we may never know. Much as I harbour hope as you do that there are other survivors, let us not kid ourselves that they may have lived for long, given what Toombs undergone in their hands," he continued when she made to retort, "and judging from his responses, he's not totally there."
"How do you explain his calling me LT then?" she demanded angrily.
"That's likely..."
"..dead.." The clearly enunciated word cut across Dorrin's reply.
"Who is dead?" Holding up a hand to forestall April, Dorrin bent to Santino whose eyes remained shut. "What happened to the company?"
"Dead...sir." A tear rolled out from a corner of Santino's eye. "..sorry," he whispered brokenly.
A dull metallic thump resounded. Looking behind him, Dorrin saw April striding furiously away and sighed, wishing once more Hackett was not so insistent despite his protest. What the hell was the old man playing at? Damn him.
"Is he safe to move?" he asked when the surgeon lieutenant came in after April left.
"Yes sir," she nodded. "Most of his injuries are healed although given the rate of deterioration of his cerebrum, he won't see more than six months."
Perhaps that would be enough to get more answers out of him but Dorrin doubted it.
"Prep him for transfer to the Alesia," he said, turning to look at Santino, wondering if he understood what was said. The single tear track glistened in the light and the sight moved him to pity. "You're going home, marine."
There was no response but he wasn't expecting any. Santino looked worst than he did before. He didn't know if the man was aware of his surroundings, who was talking to him, if his response was nothing more than an automatic reaction. If he wasn't cognitive, then his reply could be applied to anything. The dead personnel on the Corang secret base, people he killed over the last several years. Whatever it was, he wasn't going to debate over it with April. Of the 2nd Company, Third Corp of the Systems Alliance Expeditionary Force, Medusa Marine Regiment, she was the last one still in active service. The rest were officially documented as KIA in the Akuze incident except for Toombs who was killed in the Reaper War.
"Make sure he's comfortable," he said before leaving.
On the way out, he noticed a fist size indentation high above the panel of the door and realised what the earlier metallic thump was. He was startled. She was strong enough to make dents in metal now? Or was that partly fueled by rage and her knuckles broken? If they were, she would have said something wouldn't she? He wondered if those stories he heard about her were true.
Ilos
"They're about the same, I swear."
"Thought you're more keen on buff bods, not old dusty bods."
"Old classics are fun to read, man, you never know what crock they cooked up back then."
"Did I say I was reading classics? Don't you hardheads ever have a pass at history?"
"Ok, professor, what'd the hell you saying? That they came to earth and started teaching them ... what ... Epitans?"
"Egyptians." A deep heaving sigh of exasperation. "Look, I'm saying it's possible the Protheans could have influenced Earthern cultures, you know."
"Yeah, right, teaching the ... Egypies to pickle their dead and build triangles."
"Shit, why am I wasting time with muscle heads?!"
Seated in a corner of the small canteen, Peliar listened with half an ear to the conversation among the marines who went down to the lower archives with the researchers. It was enlightening and somewhat mystifying to listen to the information let drop by the more intellectual soldier who apparently had an interest in history. She made a notation to look into these Egyptians in her datapad. She did not believe the Protheans had influenced the Humans in any way however. The advent of the Reapers 50 000 years ago cut short their investigative projects among the primitive races, forcing closure of the Mars facility. Whether they would have meddled in the Humans' evolution remained moot.
When the discussion, one-sided as it was, dissolved into a mild row among the marines, she turned her attention to the data she had collected from the corpses in the lower archives, sipping the cup of juice she poured from the pot at the canteen counter. Although not pressed from fresh fruits, it was better than the other human beverage, coffee, which she found to be too bitter for her taste.
The sweet flavour of the juice was forgotten as she perused the scrolling data. It was fundamental readings at best. It would be better to have a corpse retrieved and fully examined but she doubted there would be any chance of that happening any time soon. Comprehensive research would likely take place months later. A pity. The appearance of someone next to her drew her attention away from the datapad. She stiffened when she saw who it was.
"Discuss, discoveries?" Kedar enquired, bending slightly towards her.
"As you wish," she said guardedly. That the Salarian would want to talk about the lower archives was no surprise to her. That it took him two hours after she was up and about, was.
The reception was cool but he was expecting it. "Opinions on deaths?" He seated himself across from her.
For a moment, she didn't answer. "It seems obvious isn't it? The ones in the first room chose to die, the ones in the second were forced to die." A slight shudder passed through her when she recalled the expressions on the faces of the corpses beyond the hall.
"Concur," he rubbed his chin uneasily. "Erroneous, original assumptions, in cryogenic pods all Protheans in facility. Awaken early, personnel? Abandoned? Not Protheans?"
"Not Protheans? How is that possible?" she scoffed. "There is no other way down to that hall."
"To us, only one way. Many, to others before?"
"It's rather pointless hypothesizing when all we need to do is bring up some samples to study."
"Studies, later. Important, the TI," he pointed out and continued before she could answer. "Inconclusive, samples might. Pure Protheans, not all," he pointed out. "Sub-race? If so, logical, manner of death."
"What?" At a lost, she stared at him, wishing he would string his words properly.
"Concept, master race, priority, honour, sacrifice-," he paused for a moment, his gaze far off. "Secondary, lower class, inconsequential, choice not given, summary executions."
"Do you have any evidence?" She frowned at him.
"Indeed, manner of death, theory supported." He slapped down a datapad she did not notice he was carrying before her. "Traces of poison, bodies in hall."
Staring at it as if it would bite her, she did not touch it. "You come up with that with a few scans?"
"Please." His eyelids flipped up halfway, insulted. "Mouth contents, obvious." As if by magic, he withdrew a small compact case no larger and thicker than his finger from the pocket of his sleeve and snapped it open, revealing tiny receptacles holding extraction kits. "Samples taken, analysed, hours ago-," he nodded to himself in satisfaction.
"You didn't take any from those beyond the hall," she pointed out, annoyed with his smugness. She did not notice him taking samples at all and doubted any of the others did. Module might but she wasn't about to ask it.
"Obvious, their deaths, asphyxiation."
"Fine." Pushing the datapad aside, she leaned forward. "Perhaps you could explain why is it with the thousands of cyrogenic pods down there, the master race had to lay themselves out in a hall and kill themselves? Isn't that absurd?"
"Possibility...one." He gently put forth a finger to pull the datapad over to him.
"And what's that?"
"Resources insufficient." He got up, datapad in hand. "Good discussion, thank you," he nodded to her before walking away, leaving her somewhat confused and annoyed.
Her gaze fell on the group of marines following the conversation avidly. Hastily, they dispersed from the canteen, leaving her to brood alone. What was the Salarian up to? If he wanted a sounding board, he could do better with one of his colleagues but she supposed he didn't really have a choice since those who went down were not supposed to discuss their discovery outside the party.
Both Shepard and Liara were still onboard the Glasgow, Module had shut itself down. To correlate data was the message it left with one of the marines. Now it was a lump of metal sitting in a corner of Operations and she was the only one left he could bounce his pride off. It would have been better if he waited for the others for now, she was left with a different and horrifying perspective of the much vaunted Protheans.
If Kedar's deliberations were true, the Protheans had a dark depth to them no one had ever dreamt of. There was so little known about them except what could be gleaned from the ruins and archives that were all there were left of them. Endless effort, time and money had been spent to sift out what could be found of their culture. They were revered for guiding younger races. They were exalted for the technology they left behind. Now, that legacy was disputed, with the Reapers claiming they were the builders and creators. In truth, if anyone wanted to know about Protheans, there was a single living specimen left. Presently residing among the Hanar. What would he have said if Kedar had gone to him?
Goddess, I don't know what to believe in anymore.
Thessia
The first thing Sanar was aware of was muffled voices that sounded faraway before blaring with sudden clarity in her ears.
"Losing your touch, Hiaras?" a low rough voice asked dryly.
"If you want a more gentle handle, you should have asked somebody else to watch your ass," a deep melodious voice answered.
"Getting more sassy, I see. Get me the med patch in the other room."
Footsteps retreated. A soft touch at Sanar's chin as her head was turned left and right. Without opening her eyes, she reached out with her senses. Bed under her, smell of spices. Fingers, toes. To her relief, they moved freely in response. A shuffle of footsteps, a soft tearing sound and then a hand gently taping something soft to her neck. The pain she didn't realise she was feeling flared into life. She gasped.
"Don't worry, there won't be any marks."
Her eyes snapped open, frantically roving around before settling down on the Asari sitting beside her. She recognised her in a flash. The matriarch Nyrine was dining with. Goddess, was she captured? Reading the panic in her eyes, the matriarch shook her head.
"If I want you dead, you're dead," she said. "You don't have anything that I don't know about."
"How can you be so sure?" It was difficult to speak but she forced the words past her stiff throat.
"There's nothing that goes on in the academy that passes by me, Sanar T'Enaire."
"Who are you?" she asked fearfully.
"Aethyta."