Citadel
Liara's Office Apartment
Behind the kitchen counter top, Shepard was manually whipping up the eggs in a big bowl in preparation for egg omelettes. Feeling that she had to do something too, Liara carefully sliced fruits for the salad. The knife felt unwieldy under her hands. Used to buying meals, heating up ready to eat meals and lately for the last few years pampered by Effia, food preparation was a little out of her league.
The fragrance of brewing coffee and fresh hot small loaves of bread floated around the kitchen as she stood at the kitchen countertop, comfortably floating in the soft humming from her bondmate. The sizzle when the eggs hit the skillet seemed to imbue more warmth into that cocooned feeling of restfulness. They ought to have more times like this, she thought, enjoying each other's company and doing nothing more than preparing a simple meal together.
"There." She put the last slices of fruit on the plates, rinsed the knife and cutting board and put them away. "How does it look?"
"Not bad, we'll make a cook out of you yet," Shepard said, grinning at the slices neatly arranged in winding pyramids atop the salads.
"In another ten years perhaps," Liara said lightly, watching her bondmate gently swirled the skillet to spread the bubbling eggs evenly before sprinkling in sliced cooked ham and grated cheese. A quick benediction of salt and pepper into the mix, done rather expertly she thought. She sniffed appreciatively at the aroma of the omelette. The door chimed.
"That must be Karin." She went to the door to admit Chakwas whose eyebrows rose when the smell of the eggs hit her.
When the edges of the omelette was crisp, Shepard folded it and slide it onto a plate. She prepared the skillet for another offering of whisked eggs just as Chakwas entered the kitchen with Liara.
"My word, this is a first." Chakwas halted in amazement, taking in the scene. "Wielding a spatula instead of a rifle?" Activating her omni-tool, she took a photo. "I can get a good price for this unique snoop of the great Shepard."
Shepard laughed and waved to the seat at the counter top. "Sit. Breakfast is ready." She placed the plate with the steaming omelette before Chakwas, a plate of of the fruit salad and warm toasty buttered bread beside it.
Liara put out three cups and poured the coffee. She sat down on the stool beside the doctor as she examined the golden fluffy looking omelette before her. Wisps of steam floated to her nostrils, sharpening the calls of an empty stomach.
"It's best eaten hot," Shepard prompted when Chakwas hesitated.
Picking up the fork and knife, the doctor cut off a small golden slice and regarded it warily as the others watched. Half expecting the omelette to be tasteless and dry, Chakwas's brows lifted at the fragrant softness, the slight meaty saltiness and tinge of pepper. "Not bad," she said, "where did you learn to cook?"
"Picked up a few tips from a flatmate. The key to wholesome fluffiness is beating the eggs the right way with the right mix," Shepard said, putting another plate with hot omelette before Liara and poured the remaining eggs into the skillet.
Noting the egg shells next to the stove, Chakwas asked curiously, "Where did you get the fresh eggs?"
"The former tenants didn't clear out all their storage when they were bumped down to Earth. I found half the stasis shelves packed with fresh food," Shepard said casually, taking a sip from her coffee cup before spearing a piece of fruit from her own plate. "How is it?" She looked at Liara.
"It is-," Liara regarded her forkful of omelette thoughtfully before putting it in her mouth, "interesting and delicious." The last was said with amazed appreciation that brought a smile to her bondmate's eyes.
"Hmmph." Shepard frowned when she tasted her own omelette. Reaching out for the pepper pot, she added a dash of the condiment.
"Is that wise?" Chakwas asked dubiously. It already tasted spicy to her. Too much of it would spoil the taste, she felt.
Shepard shrugged. "Shipboard food is a lot better than MREs but they can get a little monotonous. Spice makes it more interesting. Pepper's nothing to red hot capsicum that can blow your mouth off."
"How did you come by this epiphany?" asked Chakwas, finding the salad was as fresh as Shepard said it was.
"Liberty run on Hijeja Base. A smart ass pfc slipped in a dish of chicken at a pot luck party and said the dark red strips and bulbs were vegetables." Shepard snorted when she recalled the after effect to that announcement; everyone had taken generous helpings of vegetables and sauce with the chicken. "He didn't tell us it was curry chicken cooked with the second hottest chillies ever."
"The reception can't have been good," Chakwas said in a deadpan voice.
"That's an understatement. There was hardly enough water to douse the flames and wild capers. We had to rinse the chicken meat before we could eat it."
"What happened to the soldier?" asked Liara, certain that retaliation was swift coming.
"We made him finish the curry." Shepard laughed at the look of horror on Liara's face. "Nah. We broke him down with drinks. He didn't have a single credit to his name by the time we finished with him. But he did me a favour. That taste of the fires piqued my interest in exotic dishes and spices."
"And cooking other dishes?" asked Liara, entertaining ideas of getting her bondmate to cook up those dishes one day.
"Not as many as you think." Shepard gave her a knowing look. "When you're on a tight curriculum, meals have to be easy and quick. Omelettes, salads, sandwiches. I can manage fried stuff. I think," she added, popping a cherry tomato into her mouth. "But once I enlisted, cooking is not on the agenda."
"I can poach an egg but that's about it," Chakwas admittedly wryly. Sitting back in her chair, she finished the last bite of bread and sipped her coffee. "That is good. MRE was on my menu when you called. Thank you."
"Long night?" Liara asked curiously, noting the tired lines around Chakwas's eyes.
"Not the kind of avalanche I will get if the TI campaign was still in operation," Chakwas stifled a yawn. "There is always a backlog of case files."
"Perhaps we can shift the discussion to the afternoon," Shepard suggested sympathetically.
Chakwas shook her head. "No, I'm fine. I looked in on your mother. She is doing very well, having her breakfast when I left her."
"Oh," Shepard mumbled half guiltily. She should have gone straight to see Hannah when she woke up in the morning but being home with Liara and the baby had occupied her thoughts.
"We will visit her later," Liara said soothingly.
Pushing aside her plate, Shepard nodded. Resting her elbows on the countertop, she interlaced her fingers and looked at Chakwas. "We can talk freely here."
No one would be able to listen in. Her meaning was clear to Chakwas. Knowing what she did about Liara, she believed it. She could believe that the security measures in the apartment was better and buttoned up tighter than any Alliance fortress.
"What did Miranda tell you?"
"That my physiological makeup is different, that my repair and defensive systems are more robust."
"Do you have any idea what they did with you?"
Shepard grimaced. "No. I knew they used Reaper technology. Other than they aren't going to turn me into a thrall or husk, I wasn't keen in looking too deep."
"Basically, what they did was keep your brain alive while replicating and using Reaper supplements to induce physiologic regeneration," Chakwas explained. "The implants and bio-infusions were nothing I've ever heard of so I maintained a daily log on your recovery progress. I began to notice an odd development with each update. Before the Collector incident, the damage you received were, shall we say, the normal range expected of any marine in the field. After your revival, the rate of injuries dropped."
"It cannot be she is capable of dodging weapons fire now, is she?" asked Liara.
Both Shepard and Chakwas chuckled.
"No, she isn't but the injuries she sustained in engagements are healing without aid," said Chakwas. "I wasn't certain, even with the data backing up that discovery but after what happened at the Citadel at the final battle, I was convinced." The sight she had of Shepard when she was finally recovered astounded her, she remembered.
"Yeah, old story, I'm invincible." Shepard shrugged.
Resting her chin on her hand, Chakwas regarded her with amusement. "If only that's true but you'll die like anybody else if you're shot in the head."
"Hopefully that doesn't happen. So I heal faster.."
"I suspect reflexes has also improved and just about everything else has been marked up from the enhancement given to you when you enlisted in the Systems Alliance. The recent med scan from Dynius confirmed another development."
"What?"
"Human senescence is due to a number of factors. Environment, wear and tear, to name some. The body generates replacements when cells die but this ability tapers off as our biological clock tick down and cannot be restored. Yours," Chakwas paused as if considering her next words, "are not showing any kind of decline usually associated within your age range."
The implications was clear to Liara. Amazement and joy blossomed but she held on to practicality. Was what Chakwas suggesting, possible? "They are not degenerating?" she asked cautiously.
"They are but unusually slower. I've never seen anything like it. Frankly, the analogy of your aging process and the asari is somewhat close but further testing and evaluation would verify it." Chakwas gazed intently at Shepard. "Your reaction tells me you know about this." In fact, the captain's demeanor to the disclosure was one of skepticism.
"Not from Miranda. I heard it from Greenacres." Shepard smiled wryly at their incredulous expressions. "He knew about the healing and said that I hold the key to a longer human lifespan. I didn't quite believe what he said." She drummed the countertop with her fingers. "Karin, I think the part about the healing is way off."
"Why do you say that?"
"I still have the scars from the final battle."
Chakwas stirred in surprise. Liara straightened at that reminder. "She certainly does have them on her back," she affirmed.
"Can I have a look?" Chakwas requested.
Unsealing the lower half of her shirt, Shepard turned around, allowing Chakwas to lift it up. "What?" She looked over her shoulder when Chakwas and Liara remained silent.
"There are no scars," said Liara, reaching across the counter top to touch Shepard's back to make sure. The skin was smooth and unblemished. "But, they were there before you left on your mission." They were preoccupied with each other last night that she hadn't noticed anything at all.
"That's odd. If they lasted since the last battle, why would they disappear now?" Shepard asked, puzzled. Tugging the shirt back down and resealing it, she turned to lean on the counter top to look quizzically at Chakwas. The older woman tapped her lower lip as she sought for an answer.
"I believe I know the reason," she said. "Do you remember what I said about your facial lesions after your revival?"
Shepard touched her face, recalling how they felt, what she felt every time she looked in the mirror. "You suggested maintaining a peaceful frame of mind will encourage healing. Alternatively, surgical procedures will also achieve the same results."
"You didn't choose to have the procedures," Chakwas reminded her.
"I wasn't keen in having more operations," Shepard muttered. She didn't want to be reminded of the two missing years. Granted, she wasn't aware but the thought of being nothing more than an experiment, without will, was anathema to her. Lying on medbeds, under surgical instruments tend to bring back those feelings.
"I understand," Chakwas said empathetically, "but you managed to come to terms with your circumstances. With every successful mission, you became more assured and confident. The lesions vanished. The scars you received from the final battle did not heal until recently are probably due to the same factor."
Liara's eyes widened. "By accepting and recognising the fears you have," she said in dawning realisation, "your doubts are reduced, you regained confidence and trust. The healing that was held back completed its course."
Shepard frowned but did not dispute the interpretation. "What are you proposing, Karin? Cerberus tried to achieve the same results by replicating the Lazarus Project, cloning my cells, they failed."
"Not something I can or want to do even with Miranda's help," Chakwas said gravely. "The only reason they tried to repeat their steps is..."
"They do not have your medical files or you," said Liara, thinking out loud. "Oh I am sorry," she said hastily when she realised she had cut in.
Chakwas smiled, waving away the apology. "They do have the initial files but not your progressive development in the last four years. As Liara pointed out, they need access for statistical analysis and development. I'd like to know if you're agreeable to a scheduled range of comprehensive medical examination."
"How often?"
"Monthly if possible." Chakwas leaned forward. "A viable treatment to impart the curative ability will save lives," she said earnestly, afraid that Shepard would refuse. "Not just the soldiers, everyone."
"I'm not opposing such a beneficial venture but you'll need funding, credible assistants, equipment. It is also unlikely such a treatment will be realized for some time," Shepard said matter of factly, declining to state the obvious that Chakwas might not live long enough to see her work bear fruit.
"I'll be working under the aegis of the Alliance with Miranda. Hackett is prepared to draw up the legal work to give you full control of the project, the patent of the treatment if successful."
"Who else knows?"
"No one other than me, Miranda and Admiral Hackett," said Chakwas. "He hasn't discussed this with anyone nor have we communicated openly about the subject on any channels except when we meet. Your Alliance medical record reflect basic data. All the in-depth samples, scans, analysis are with me."
"I see." Shepard drummed her fingers on the countertop, considering the proposal. "Karin, what if I tell you the project cannot be established back home. What if I tell you that I'd like you to work elsewhere?"
"It doesn't matter where I am, Shepard. This is a venture I want to work on," Chakwas said emphatically. "You can call it a pre-retirement sabbatical. God knows I need one."
She more than needs it. Looking at the lines on Chakwas's face, the silvery bloom about her head and that slight droop to the shoulders, Shepard couldn't imagine how she held up under the strain all these years. It suddenly occurred to her that the doctor couldn't have, not without help. She didn't doubt that Chakwas would have someone to talk to, a psychiatrist likely. If she wanted peace from the madding crowd and the onerous duty she faithfully kept to for so many years, she more than deserved it.
"We'll need to work out the details with the admiral-," Shepard began to say and was startled when Chakwas reached across and grasped her hands.
"Thank you," said Chakwas, eyes shining with relief.
"If it doesn't work out, don't take it out on me," Shepard ribbed with a grin and reached into her shirt pocket. "For starters, you'll like the files of the clones we pulled from the Cerberus station." She proffered a data chip. "You're going to have to read them here. This is the only existing true copy. As long as we're on the Citadel, I'd like you to use Liara's office for data analysis."
Chakwas nodded as she took the data chip. "Encrypted?"
"Always," said Shepard. "Do you want to look at them right now?"
"I do."
"I will show you the office," said Liara, sliding off her stool. Chakwas began to follow when she remembered she didn't have the code to unlock the data chip. She turned back, intending to ask about it but the asari touched her arm. "I know how to open it."
Shepard began to pick up the dirty plates to load in the washer as they headed for the office. The files would occupy Chakwas for a few hours. In the mean time, she would visit Hannah with Liara.
Maintenance Crew Off Duty Lounge
It was like stepping into a swirling whirlpool when he entered the lounge. The voices, the music, the lights, the air heady with the aroma of food and drinks buffeted him, smothering his senses in swift currents. Pursing his lips, Tavish methodically scanned the crowd of off duty maintenance crew. Not finding what he was looking for near the entrance, he moved in, wounding around walking traffic and standing obstacles while carefully cradling the containers he was carrying closer.
Snatches of conversation drifted around. He wrinkled his nose at the occasional miasma of a day's work wafting off someone whose freshener had worn off. He could easily identified which were human and batarian. Salarians didn't seem to sweat, turians were somewhat metallic and asari often smell like tangy fruit. He finally spotted the people he was looking for, tucked around a small coffee table, sofa and armchairs at the back of the huge room. Straightening his shoulders, he made his way over to them.
"Top of the morning," he greeted cheerfully when he reached them, his eyes lingering on the dark haired woman lounging on the sofa.
Tessie spared him not a glance, her attention fixed on the news program on the large screen floating near the ceiling of the wall. Challa grunted something but kept his eyes on the screen too. Mallon, who perpetually had a work console with him, looked up from where he was ensconced in the armchair, spared him a nod before his head dipped back down. Tavish looked around. The only available space he could sit on was the other armchair next to the small sofa.
"You mind?"
Tavish waved a hand at Tessie and nodded at her feet propped on the seat of the armchair. Cutting a disgruntled look at him, she removed her feet and directed her attention back to the screen. He coughed as he put his containers on the coffee table but no one said anything. They were more chatty when they were on duty. Of course, that was just the normal run of a duty shift but after more than a month of working together, he'd expected a more congenial reception. He wondered how they would react to what he was going to say. Grabbing the container with purple coloured slush, he dangled it before Mallon.
"Want some dessert?"
Mallon blinked, the container temporarily dislocated him from his reading, recognising the purple slush as porquish, a delicacy from Sur'kesh. "Thank you," he said, taking the container and putting it beside him.
"Catch, Challa," Tavis called, making sure he had the batarian's attention before throwing a packet of brown coloured lumps at him. 'And for you." He leaned across and held out a clear bag of purple-red grapes. She stared at the bag of grapes before looking at him suspiciously.
"What's the deal?" she asked.
He put the bag beside her when she made no move to take it. "Just a little bribe not to cut my legs off in the days to come."
She frowned. "What're you talking about?"
"I'm part of the big four."
He tapped his chest and leaned back in his armchair. That got her total attention. Challa's four eyes swiveled to him. Mallon's head slowly floated higher like a rising balloon until his large rapidly blinking orbs came into view over the edge of his portable console.
Tessie blinked at Tavish like an owl. "Part of the-," she paused when she realised what he was saying. "You've been assigned to us permanently?" Her voice rose higher in disbelief, her eyes flashed, her body stiffening in response and then she fell back to staring at him.
Looking around, Tavish shrugged. "That's what the boss said to me. Your old buddy, Westir? He hasn't reported in for over a month and no one could run him to ground." When no one said anything, he added, "Right? I know you guys tried..."
"What do you know," Tessie muttered, crossing her arms and staring at the coffee table.
"I'm not blind. I've got ears." His fingers fluttered beside his head. "Every off shift you've got, you swing by his place. You guys went out of your way to fix joints that's not part of your beat."
Tavish raised an eyebrow at Mallon, inviting an input but the salarian only blinked at him. "Drake's sent him several messages. All unanswered. He went down to Westir's apartment several times. The last time he went there, he came back and said the guy has decamped. Westir's two months in arrears on his rent, corporate's going to take it back."
"He is absent," Mallon said finally when the other two remained silent.
"Drake's gone to C-Sec. It's what should have been done," Tavish added when they gave a start. "Look, I know you guys stayed silent because you don't want to get him into trouble, maybe you thought you know what he's up to but he's a ghost for a month, isn't that a tad too long to remain quiet?"
The three exchanged unhappy glances among themselves. No one contended Tavish's allegations. Pushing herself to sit straighter, Tessie ventured, "We thought he could be helping out some kids."
"The duct rats?" Tavish tried not to scoff. "I saw you speaking to a few of them." He looked at Mallon.
"They never saw him," Mallon said reluctantly.
"Well then." Tavish lifted open palms in a done-with gesture.
"That doesn't mean anything," Tessie said gloomily. "Duct rats don't trust easily, they don't have any reason to tell us anything but they may with West."
"He saved some of them, I know." Tavish heard the stories. Points to the man for thinking of the kids when no one else would. "But he's missing and not reporting for work. They waited for a month, can't say they're not being fair. Boss is kicking him off."
"Where could he have gone?" Tessie muttered. "Passenger liners aren't operating yet. There's only the freighters and the military hulks," she added. Not that she thought that Westir would have the gumption to get on board a military vessel. He wouldn't be able to get past security and besides, there's no reason for him to do so.
"If something happened to him-," Mallon trailed off, eyes wrinkled to slits.
Nobody wanted to bring up the spectre of protein vats. Silence dropped like a curtain as they pondered on it. They had tried everything they could think of but the Citadel was just too big. With none of the wards except one in operation, it was futile to post a 'look-out-for'.
Challa finally stirred. "If he wants to come back, he will," he said.
"Yeah, I guess," Tessie sighed. She held up the bag of grapes. "Thanks and welcome to the team."
The others murmured in agreement. Tavish nodded graciously. He wasn't expecting a joyous reception but at least they weren't going to feel resentment at his taking their friend's place.
Shepard's Apartment
Sitting at the dining table, the eyes on her was a perceptible weight. They were not trained on her all the time but the scrutiny, the curiosity, the underlining concern was palpable. Miona made a pretense of nibbling at the reilio she was holding. A favourite for breakfast. She would have downed several slices but she had little appetite. A bowl of steaming stew was suddenly set down before her. Startled, she looked up to find Shiala sitting down beside her, another bowl of stew in hand and a plate heaped with more reilio.
"Care for a tour of the Citadel?" asked Shiala as she began to eat her stew.
Years ago, such an offer would have thrilled Miona for she had never been to the station. Now, she only shrugged. "With or without chaperons," she mumbled apathetically.
"Would you mind my tagging along very much?"
"You and who else?"
Reaching for a slice of reilio, Shiala took a bite and chewed for a while. "Just me. So eat up, we'll be moving a lot." She nudged Miona gently in the side with her elbow.
Miona stared at her in surprise. "Why?"
"Confining you isn't going to help. It just acerbate circumstances, encourage suspicions and irrationality." Finishing the reilio, Shiala picked up the spoon beside her bowl and ate more stew. "This is really good, don't let it go cold," she said. "You want to return to Thessia, pick up the pieces of your life, forge a future," she continued as Miona began on her stew, "the sooner you get down to it, the sooner fears are put to rest."
The stew was as tasty as Shiala said, savory with light spices, vegetables and fish chunks. A dish she hadn't had for a long time. Miona began to eat with more enthusiasm as she turned over Shiala's words. "I've only thought of returning home but I've no visions of a future," she admitted.
Picking up another slice of reilio, Shiala tore off a chunk and dip it into her stew. "What does your Discipline perception tell you?"
Miona hesitated. Picking up the exercises again was rough when she returned to Omega with Aria. After prolonged disuse, the plateau of serenity evaded her for weeks until recently, when she went with Shepard to the galactic core, and even then, the interpretations were restive.
"Reconciliation of self and community," she said finally.
"Then you shall take that first step. Satisfy your curiosity about this place and yourself, the rest will come eventually." Shiala smiled at her encouragingly before applying herself to the meal.
Taking the hint, Miona made a better breakfast than she expected, finishing off with more slices of reilio. She went back to the bedroom with Shiala to change into more sombre clothes. There was no one in the room but themselves, the commandos having taken the hint from Shiala's gesture to leave. Shiala couldn't help but scrutinise Miona's bare body as she changed, controlling herself so she wouldn't give away her unease with a shiver.
Whatever the original colouring of the changeling was, it was no longer evident. From head to toe, she glimmered with a black sheen. Fine glowing silvery blue traceries branched along the spine up to the neck and crest, fanning out to a fascinating star-like dusting along the tips of the crests. The facial markings were not so visible but they were there if one looked hard enough. Slightly lighter, they swept in graceful arcs from the crest.
In the light, the colours scintillated into various hues. She was terrifying, for she reminded Shiala of the husks, and beautiful at the same time. And those eyes. It was hard to discern the pupils but she knew they were there. Yet, no husks she had seen held reflections of awareness. That eased the fear greatly.
Slipping a pair of dark glasses over her eyes, Miona held out her arms and stood mutely for inspection. "How do I look?"
In a flowing thigh length tunic and trousers of black and silver, the darkness of her face did not stand out so much.
"You look ready to step out on a holovid set," said Shiala. "Shall we?"
Except for brief glances, no one made any move to follow them. Was she really going to be allowed to move freely? Miona sneaked quick looks behind them when she thought Shiala wasn't paying attention. Other than the casual passerby, nobody seemed to be following. Shiala pretended not to notice until they were out on the promenade of Silversun Strip.
"Shed the skin of doubt," she said, reaching out to touch the younger asari lightly.
"I'm sorry, I mean, you're trying...that is..," Miona said awkwardly.
Shiala only smiled and gestured to the streets. "With the Citadel in abeyance, most of the shops are closed. Special permission have been granted for cafes, small eateries and a marketplace at the plaza for this ward."
"This is the T'Soni enclave?"
"It is. Shepard's apartment is here so we took up the entire block."
Head turning to and fro, Miona looked at the brilliant holo-signs, peered at various inoperative stores and at the people around them. Most were asari with the occasional human and salarian bondmates, babies and children in tow. Oh how long had it been since she had walked freely, without care among her own people? To hear the spoken tongue tripping off like song around her. To feel that low subtle hum of mental energies. Too long. She sighed.
She saw a hanar in the distance, gliding along like a purple balloon, wagging a tentacle in the air, in conversation with a pair of asari. A pair of qiori chirruped sweetly from the shoulders of an asari couple as they strolled along the street. The sight of the amber hued birds made her wish she was back on Thessia already. She paused when the blue white ceiling high above caught her eye.
"What is it?" Shiala followed her gaze. What did she see?
"I know it's not real but it's been years since I last look upon the sky. And this?" Miona gestured around her. "It's so..open, so bright."
"Is Omega that dark?"
Miona sighed. "Far more than you think."
Seeing a taxi stand, Shiala took her hand. "Let's go to the Presidium. The shops are closed of course but the parks and gardens are not."
The thought of wallowing in open air spaces, to walk among the living greens appealed greatly to Miona. As she climbed into an empty skycar, she thought she heard the wheezing voice of what could only be a volus, issuing behind a small crowd of asari gathered nearby. A salesman surely for he was extolling the virtues of pepperoni, cheese and onions. None of which made much sense to her though it sounded oddly familiar. A word popped into her head. Pizza. Why pizza? What was pizza? Somehow that brought up an image of Syrios. A laughing Syrios talking as they sat at a campfire. She remembered. He loved to eat pizza.
Oh Syrios.