Mass Effect 1
Burnt for Beacons
Chapter 18 - The Citadel
The footpaths shone, white and gleaming, far from the bustling crowds of the Presidium commons. Hector had told her about this district on their long, walk back to the Normandy two nights prior. The architecture was the same as on the rest of the colossal deep-space station, but here the people gave it a richer flavour entirely. Café tables spilled out on to the streets, clothing, gaming, and honest-to-god book stores vied for attention. Art galleries displayed their wares next to sports bars, tech shops, and a pet supply store. Around the next bend was a street market selling exotic foods underneath the branches of old trees with purple leaves.
Ashley looked shyly back towards Shepard who was eyeing everything with interest. The people were different here too. It was more multiracial than the districts close to the Presidium tended to be. Drell, salarians, batarians, angara, krogans, humans and quarians all brought their culture their music, their stylistic choices here, where it became a colourful hodgepodge of intertwining expressions of identity. She looked down at her map, they were close. Shepard peered down at the display.
"You never did say where we were going."
"And you very obligingly came along anyway," Ashley smiled. "It's not far."
Shepard briefly looked as though she might be about to grumble under her breath but was stopped by what she saw when they turned the final corner. A green carpet of grasses swept up the long curve of the citadel's fourth arm. It was dotted with trees, rock formations, and artfully designed water features. Children played, screeching and squealing, adults lay on their backs gazing up at omnitool projections, couples walked hand in hand under fiery red and purple leaves. Ashley made herself a solemn promise to name her first born child after Hector, before instantly reneging and deciding that an extra beer next time they were at the pub would probably suffice. It was beautiful.
She turned towards a nearby café that overlooked the vista. The name translated roughly to: Stellar Hampers, which was probably an exceedingly clever play on words in its original language. This was where Harvey had told her to go. She shut down her map and strode confidently past diners and busy waitstaff to the counter at the side. Here the décor looked like a well-appointed agri-colony barn house, lots of brick, wood, and pottery. Shepard smiled at her with such guileless warmth that Ashley couldn't help but feel her spirit buoyed to the point of stupidity. She put on her very best agri-colony accent, "Oh my, doesn't this place just remind you of the farm back home?" For her part Shepard just blinked at her mutely. Unphased, and keeping up the ridiculous accent, Ashley turned back to the man standing behind the counter, "We'll take the number four, please."
"Certainly, ma'am," his six eyes blinked as he bowed politely. "We won't be long."
Moments later, he returned carrying a picnic basket and a rug. Ashley paid with a wave of her omnitool, and bustled Shepard out the door.
"You are a dick," Shepard said smiling, before taking the picnic rug. "Everyone in that place knows you didn't grow up on a farm, that's the worst accent I've ever heard," she continued with genuine mirth.
Ashley chuckled and shrugged, unconcerned.
They found a quiet spot, Shepard laid out the rug and Ashley began to unpack the lunch. There was wine and cheeses, different fruit, thinly sliced meats, a kind of nutty bread, and a small assortment of spreads. For a time, that's all they talked about: the beauty of the location, the ingeniousness of the café, the quality of the wine (good), the taste of the cheese (mediocre), the warm softness of the bread (excellent); they speculated on the origin of the fruits and meats (impossible to say with any sense of accuracy) and compared notes on the flavours (varied).
Slowly, Ashley found herself able to turn the conversation to more serious things. She wanted, no, needed Shepard to trust her to handle the deep, dark conversations, and whatever Shepard's burdens, they could handle them better together. If Shepard wasn't going to treat Ash as an equal, any relationship they may or may not be about to begin was doomed from the outset. Maybe Shepard sensed this.
"Ka heke te roimata me te hūpē, ka ea te mate," Shepard said in response to Ash's careful probing. When tears and mucus fall death is avenged. "When I last visited my Nan, she gave me a book of these little wisdoms, that have been passed down from the generations. She taught me how to read them and how to say them. She taught me what they mean, but I didn't have enough time to learn everything I really needed to. They are a guide for navigating life, a reminder of how to behave, and how to recover when things go wrong. They are helpful so I practise them whenever I get a moment, but sometimes it's still like a big chunk of who I am is missing. I didn't fit in when I was down there. The Trans-Tasman Territories are different to other parts of Earth. I didn't understand the language. Didn't understand the culture or the protocols. But sometimes, I don't fit in up here either. That coin I gave you?" Ashley nodded. "Nan gave that to me too. It was passed down from one of her ancestors who fought in the second world war. It's a long story, but she gave it to me to help me remember that there are two parts to who I am and they will always be at war if I can't learn to reconcile them."
"Kahoku got it," she continued. "When I met him, it was like looking in a mirror. He understood that when you are in space you are human, and that is your culture. It is difficult to be indigenous in the hegemony of space humans. But our cultural backgrounds form our identities and we have to hold on to them and nurture them. He understood that battle. I only knew him for maybe an hour, but he was important. And then Cerberus killed him and his men, in exactly the way they tried to kill me and my men. And for what? So that humanity can be even better colonisers?"
Ashley sat quietly, her mind scrambling over ideas she'd never considered. Slowly understanding dawned and she began with a series of quick-fire questions uttered too quickly to be anything other than rhetorical. "OK. Check my reasoning. It's like, what direction should a Muslim point their prayer rug in space? How do you hold on to your language if everyone uses translators? Are translators a good thing for maintaining languages or worse? What happens to religion when there is only one generic prayer space on a colony? What happens to musicians when luggage is limited to a single carry bag?" Shepard looked tempted to interrupt but Ashley forged on ahead. "You can have all these things, manage all these things, if you have money and power. So, the dominant culture is the one that controls those things. In humanity's case that's the Systems Alliance, most of the people in power originally hail from the United North American States, and so while the Systems Alliance is accidently and institutionally spreading North American culture throughout space while calling it human, Cerberus is doing it in the full knowledge that they want to be, not only the only dominant human culture, but the dominant culture in all of space."
"I mean, yeah," Shepard replied, "you hijacked my whole point there, but that's essentially where I was going with it."
"I wonder how all the other peoples deal with this stuff?"
"Mmmm," Shepard replied, noncommittally.
Shepard scooped up the basket and lifted it over to her side so that it was no longer between them, and then flopped back on the rug, one hand behind her head, the other on her stomach. "Ash, that was an amazing picnic."
Ash saw the invitation in the action, and lay down herself.
"We leave tomorrow. Virmire. An STG team was investigating Saren. They sent a high priority message to the council that wasn't much more than static. It could be something, or it could be nothing."
"No more picnics?" Ashley asked, trying to inject some levity into the conversation despite the sudden despairing tightness in her chest.
"We should talk about that." Ashley's throat suddenly felt strangled, though it was somehow easier to listen while side by side like this. She carefully avoided turning her head to look at Shepard. "Because if you like me as much as I like you, we should do something about it, and if I have read this all wrong I need to know now. Whatever your answer, we'll work it out."
Fuck.
Ashley sat up and looked down at Shepard, whose long eyelashed eyes were wide and fearful. Ashley looked at that beautiful, terrified looking face, before settling her gaze on those biteable lips, and slowly bent forward to do what she'd imagined doing so many times before. She leant down and kissed them. Gently at first, but then more insistently. Shepard groaned, deep in her throat and it was like music. She tasted of fruit and summer picnics, and promises. Shepard's body had not moved from its original position so Ashley lifted her own higher to get a better purchase. The kiss deepened further and Shepard let loose a high-pitched moan as Ashley positioned a thigh firmly between the other woman's legs. She readjusted slightly to free a hand to reach under Shepard's t-shirt, allowing her thumb to kneed her hip bone.
"Is this ok?" Ashley asked breath heaving into Shepard's jaw, and was startled when Shepard shook her head.
Fuck.
"No." Shepard huffed, through reddened lips.
Ash climbed off her quickly. And looked down confused, waiting.
"Ash," Shepard breathed quietly. "Can I touch you, now?" Her eyes were dancing with need and desire. There was joy there, too.
What?
"You said I wasn't allowed to touch you. I've been careful, up until today," she added, grinning wildly. "Now I really need to touch you."
Ash, leant back down and breathed into Shepard's neck, nipping her gently just below the ear. "Alright."
The walk back, to return the picnic basket and rug, and then through the Citadel, took much longer than it could have. The couple were unwilling to let the other go any great distance, and kept finding excuses to touch and to hold.
They also talked.
"Regulations aren't there to punish, they are there to protect. The process is really simple, because these things happen all the time. We notify XO Pressly, who becomes the impartial judge on all things. He has oversight of day-to-day decisions. I can't recommend you for medals or promotions, I can't make changes to your roster or your duties, that's all on Pressly and Kaidan."
As Shepard worked through the minutia with her, Ashley found herself growing calmer.
"What about the crew? Do we try to keep this a secret?"
"From our crew?" Shepard responded with mock dismay. "No point. Liara will know the minute she sees one of us. Joker's not lacking in insight. I propose we announce it calmly to all key staff, in a few days' time and task them with controlling the scuttlebutt."
"Is this? Are we wrong to do this?"
"You are looking at a young, charismatic, extremely attractive commander of the most technologically advanced frigate in council space, who, I might add, has also recently been granted the title of Spectre." Shepard stretched her arms out wide, almost dancing as she walked backwards in front Ashley. "Ash, there are worse risks for you to take!" She laughed, until Ash punched her in the shoulder, which, to be fair, only made the laugh turn more into a pained chuckle, as she rubbed her arm.
They separated slightly as they made their way into the C-Sec building, shyly attentive to each other's conversational small talk.
They reached the boarding ramp where a few marines were helping to load supply crates.
Hector was among them and he waved enthusiastically, "Hey Chief, how was the picnic? Did your man-friend like it?"
Addison who was standing nearby checking things off on her datapad, cleared her throat and shook her head minutely. Hector looked momentarily confused before his expression cleared.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Did your lady-friend like it?"
Addison smirked as she watched Ashley's blush deepen. Shepard also looked towards Ashley and said, "You never said you went on a picnic." The acting was pretty good, not at all overblown.
While she stood there, in the middle of the loading bay trying to work out the best response, Shepard continued, "Alright, I should go. I need to talk to Pressly." With that, she just left. Despite feeling like she was losing an arm, Ashley made the careful point of not watching her go.
"Well?" Hector asked.
"Private, I owe you a beer," she chuckled.
