Chapter 20 – The List

March 7th, 2211. The Citadel, Presidium — Presidium Apartments, Unit N6

Data Corruption… Automatic Reconstruction Failed…Data Corruption….Profile Reconstruction Required…

(Spectre Operative 04272182-Cloud)

Six weeks after the events aboard the SSV Hippocrates

The sun rose over a forest of gleaming white spires, its light reflecting off the beautifully-wrought silver metal that gave the majestic structures their fluid, graceful form. Most of them were straight, and yet the way that the towers spiraled and curved in some places gave them an organic feel.

The sky was a brilliant shade of blue, and in that unfamiliar sky I could see the massive silhouettes of no less than three planetary bodies. Massive overlords of blue, green, and red that arched beyond the horizon, wondrously close and yet I knew them to be at least tens of thousands of miles away.

I felt myself being pulled down by some mysterious force, down towards the city of white spires. As I flew in between the forest of silver I looked around me. Lights could be seen from within the towering structures. Squinting, I could see shapes moving within.

After some passage of time I felt my feet touch down gently on a silver road. Around me the city bustled with life. Strange beings with blue skin, glowing white-blue eyes and odd, fleshy tendrils hanging from their cheeks and chins like alien beards moved about with purpose and determination.

Some were male, some were female. Others looked like they had seen many years while others looked to have barely seen a dozen. They all smiled at me, dressed in strange, colorful clothing, and some waved as they passed me by. They all moved around me like how a river might curl around a jut of rock.

Their heads were odd, humanoid in shape but with great plates of bone that swept backwards on their heads, like those of the krogan, but their plates were greater in number and much, much smaller. Some of the garments the beings wore revealed their arms and lower extremities, revealing smooth blue skin that had the potential to be colored a dozen different shades.

The beings didn't have hair, no. The bone plates of the females flowed down their necks and onto their shoulders to form organic headdresses that gave the appearance of hair while males had much shorter and thicker ones.

They were a beautiful people. The males were tall, taller than me and much more well-muscled, and the females were lithe and moved like running water. They all smiled at me and went about their daily lives. I could see hundreds of them entering and coming out of a variety of different spires. What looked to be like kiosks, stands and shops littered the silver road, but with a cleanliness and orderliness that I've yet to see in all my years of travelling this galaxy.

I took a tentative step forwards. Above me flew sleek, silver vehicles the likes of which I've never seen, hurtling above like shiny comets. I stared at them for a while, entranced by their beauty.

I felt a pressure on my hand and looked down. A small child had taken hold of my hand, tugging it and smiling at me. Her bony plates looked soft and small and her tendrils lacked the length of the adults of her species, but like the rest of the beings she had light blue skin and glowing blue and white eyes.

She smiled, barring tiny, white teeth in a friendly grin. She had two small and sharp incisors, like a cat's. She said something to me in a musically lyrical tongue. Their language, whatever it was, was beautiful. Just like their city. Just like their people.

I starred at her in confusion, a small smile on my lips. "I don't understand," I replied.

The child merely laughed and repeated the phrase again, this time adding another phrase as well.

I knelt down so that I was level with her and smiled once more. I gently took her hand in one hand and rested my other softly atop her shoulder.

My brow furrowed ever so slightly in confusion. "I'm sorry, I don't understand what you're saying," I told her once more.

She smiled and looked at me once more, and in her eyes I saw humor, laughter, and a bit of sadness.

A loud horn suddenly erupted in the air. That musical, lyrical language quickly transformed into screams and shouts of terror and panic.

I felt a burst of heat from behind me. I turned to look but the light was too intense, too strong.

I knelt and picked up the young child and began running down the street. She tried to say something to me but I still didn't understand what she was saying. More and more of the people joined me in my run as we struggled to escape the heat.

I looked up, the sky began to darken and black tendrils brought death and ruin and destruction upon the glimmering city.

I saw a flash of ruby light, a sound like a thunderclap, then a wave of heat the likes of which I'd never felt before.

And then the horn.

March 7th, 2211. The Citadel, Presidium — Presidium Apartments, Unit N6

Six weeks after the events aboard the SSV Hippocrates

I awoke with a gasp and curled my fingers around my sheets. I coughed and groaned as I struggled to shake off the drudges of my nightmare. That same dream again, that same stupid, reoccurring, fucking dream. It had plagued me for the last six weeks and by God, I was reaching the end of my rope.

I got up. My heart hammered wildly against my chest and I could feel a light sheen of sweat on my torso that amplified the coldness of the room.

I shivered and quietly padded over to my refresher. Without flicking on the lights I made my way over to the sink, activated it, and splashed some water on my face.

I toweled off and moved back into my room. I activated my omni-tool. It was in the early hours of the morning, about two hours into the night-cycle of the Citadel, meaning that I had about four hours of darkness left.

Once again the dream had left me wide awake. It had been plaguing me ever since we'd escaped from the Hippocrates and the terrors aboard. We'd arrived on the Citadel less than two days ago after a lengthy trip through half of Council space and I'd hoped that the dream would stop once I was back on familiar ground, in my familiar routine, but so far I'd had no such luck.

It was never the same location. Sometimes the spires looked different, the sky different, but the people always looked the same, they were beautiful, graceful, speaking a language that I could not understand.

And the ending, the ending was always the same. The horns and the heat and the black tendrils were always the same.

I sighed and pulled on a pair of dark jeans that I'd been wearing the day before. I grabbed the same plain old white T-shirt I'd worn as well. It was a bit baggy but still serviceable, and as I slid it over my shoulders I gave it the good old sniff test. A debatable pass.

As an added afterthought, I grabbed my dark blue leather jacket from my hanger and slipped it on. This episode had been particularly bad, but the beauty of being on the Citadel was that it didn't have to be one of those nights where I had to just lie in bed, counting the hours before the night-cycle ended. My hand groped blindly in the dark for one of my knives that I kept on my bedstand. Finding it, I slipped one of my two Talon combat knives in a sheath on my belt, however, I left my Predator pistol in the upper right corner of my bed, where it usually sat. I doubted that I'd need it.

I quietly opened my door, only for the bright white light of Cade's gaming terminal to immediately assault my retinas. Against the darkness of the small apartment, the intensity of the light from Cade's computer was amplified nearly tenfold.

My friend and fellow Spectre turned his head at the sound of my door opening. "Hey, can't sleep?"

I sighed and rubbed my jaw. At least I'd finally managed to re-establish a steady relationship with my razor in the last few weeks.

"Same dream, might head over to Steve's for a while," I admitted.

Cade took off his headset and spun around in his chair to face me. He was bare from the waist up, wearing nothing but a pair of turian pajama pants.

"Are you done with your list, yet?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No, got a couple more names to go through."

Cade sighed and scratched his mandible. "I know the doc said it'd be a good way to work through your problems, but from the looks of it all its doing is adding to your misplaced sense of guilt," he told me.

I crossed my arms and looked down. The Office of Special Tactics and Reconnaissance had their own personal cadre of psychiatrists and psychologists that helped Spectres work through the psychological hazards of their jobs between missions. Usually about the people they lost or couldn't save. Not every Spectre used their services – Cade most certainly didn't – and although I never had as well, I had promised Cade that I'd seek some measure of help in coping with the events aboard the ship.

And so there I was, sitting in an office while some asari with a dozen Ph.D's told me to make a list of the people I thought I had failed to save, then reach out to their families to give them some semblance of closure. Well, at least to the extent that the Council would allow me to disseminate highly classified information.

It had been all too easy to draw up the list. Starting with the fireteam that had given their lives to allow me to escape from the Prometheus Labs back when the outbreak started and ending with the valiant sacrifices of Sergeant Vidanor Mardinus and Lieutenant-Commander Syriah Barthilus. Each name and face was seared into my mind like an angry brand, haunting me every time I closed my eyes. In conjunction with the reoccurring nightmares I was beginning to feel like I was starting to drown.

"Maybe you should ditch the list," he continued. "None of those deaths were your fault, they all made their decisions. Making you do this sounds more like psychological torture than some kind of attempt at closure. All its doing is making you out to be responsible for all their deaths when nothing could be farther from the truth."

I sighed and moved to grab my boots. I slid them on one by one in the darkness and did up the laces.

"I'm fine, Cade. The list is almost done and I think that in the end it'll be good for me. Thanks for your concern, but I'll be all right. I just need some air."

A few muted voices sounded from Cade's headset, calling for him to return to the game.

"Hey, how about you get on Galaxy of Fantasy and boost my new rogue with your paladin? Then I'll take my hunter and boost your death knight?" he suggested. "Accer's on right now leveling his mage. I don't have the heart to tell him he sucks."

I smiled. "Maybe tomorrow, after we're done training. We're working out separately but we're going to be running shooting drills together, right?"

"You bet your ass. Maybe hand-to-hand the day after once Percival's had enough alone time with Gwen," Cade chuckled.

"Sounds good, I'll be back in a few hours."

"Alright."

I grabbed my credit chip and made sure that my new biotic amp was working and that my Talon was sharp. My omni-tool was secured on my left arm and I turned the tracking feature on, just in case, I grabbed my kinetic shield generator and powered that on as well, in the event that anyone with a grudge decided to take a shot at me.

Doubtful, in order for one to foster a grudge, first they had to survive an encounter with me. Ha.

Satisfied that I had everything that I might need, I opened the door and left to try and forget about my dreams.

March 7th, 2211. The Citadel, Presidium — Serenity

Six weeks after the events aboard the SSV Hippocrates

"Another one, brother?"

I nodded and tapped my credit chip on Steve's omni-tool as he poured me another few fingers of whiskey. Unlike many of the patrons, I hated the concept of running up a tab, much preferring to pay per drink.

It was something that Steve the bartender appreciated.

The Citadel was the space station that never slept, and so the Serenity had maybe two dozen patrons seated at various tables and booths, even in the late hours of the night-cycle. I was the only one left at the actual bar, a scene so clichéd that a part of me had winced at having found myself in such a ridiculously lame position.

The rest of the patrons were in groups of two, three, or even up to a dozen. I could see a turian and a quarian clearly on a date, a group of white-collared office workers of various species celebrating what must have been some kind of victory at work, two krogan talking over a few pints of ryncol and a few asari chatting leisurely as they sipped on some sort of fruity, purple concoction.

I drained the whiskey in a single gulp, Steve raised an eyebrow and nodded at the empty glass in my hand. "Haven't seen you or the guys in a while, you been on mission?"

"Something like that," I grunted.

Steven the bartender's prosthetic leg whirred beneath him as he moved from one corner of the bar to the next. Steve had lost his leg during one of the final battles of the Slaver Fringe Wars. He hadn't fought on Balak as Percival had, but had instead fought on one of the planetary defense cannons that had orbited it. His entire battalion had been split up into their respective companies in order to take out the cannons, giving the troops that Percival had been a part of a chance to land on the slaver planet.

He had lost his leg after a particularly violent encounter with a batarian slaver wearing bladed armor. He was honorably discharged a while after that at the rank of Lieutenant and instead of re-upping and getting stuck behind a desk had opted to open this little slice of heaven right on the boundary between the Presidium and the more urbane, well-worn Lower Wards.

Due to his location he regularly received a mixed bag of patrons – white-collar Presidium workers, Lower Ward dock workers, etc etc. Steve ran a clean bar and a safe one with the help of a trio of Krogan brothers who acted as security, maintenance, and the occasional distiller. He had a few human and asari waitresses and an excellent salarian chef who supplied the bar with a small but quality menu.

The Serenity was where Cade, Percival and I often hung out in between missions. Steven got along well with the N7 given both their military backgrounds and Cade was always everyone's best friend.

"You wanna talk about it?" Steve pressed.

I shook my head and signaled for one more. It would be my fourth and my last one, that was the limit that I set for myself.

"Nah, can't. You know how it is," I shrugged.

Steve laughed and poured himself a drink as well. He raised it, allowing me to clink our glasses together.

"No, I don't. But I know how you are," he chuckled.

I shrugged again and scratched the back of my neck.

"Yeah, I can tell your mission was a tough one," Steve admitted, "You only ever come in here alone after a mission that went south, otherwise you're always coming in here with Percy and Cade, celebrating another successful one."

Steven looked around the bar and eyed the rest of his patrons warily before leaning in close and dropping his voice. "You'd tell me if I should be worried, right? I still know guys back in the Alliance. If there's something you need you tell me and I'll do my best to help."

I took another sip and sighed. There weren't any Reaper Cores on the Citadel, at least not to my knowledge. But I mean, were the Reaper Cores activated and the DNA inside allowed to infect everyone else in the galaxy, it'd be a small consolation.

"No, The Citadel should be safe, I can't say much but I can tell you that much at least. And thanks for the offer."

The former alliance marine-turned-bartender nodded. "Thanks man."

When the Reapers had transported the Citadel to Earth during the Reaper War, everyone assumed that every person aboard the massive space installation had been killed and processed.

Shepard's last communications had supported this theory. She had reported massive heaps of bodies of various species. When the Crucible had been activated and that energy surge had emerged from the massive device, the galaxy had thought that they'd join them.

It wasn't until after the smoke cleared that we learned that there had been survivors aboard the Citadel. Almost 85% if you believe it or not. The Reapers had sent in a sizeable amount of ground troops into the Citadel in an attempt to capture and process the inhabitants into more foot soldiers for their army, but had neglected to send enough, instead keeping the majority of their soldiers on Earth to fight the remnants of the Systems Alliance stationed there and Shepard's galactic coalition.

C-sec and the station had fought back admirably, sealing bulkheads and sections and venting them, killing numerous Reaper troops. Although 15% fatalities sounded a lot – roughly 2 million people – most of them had gone down fighting, not being processed into synthetic paste to create more Reapers. C-sec lost nearly 80% of their number but their valiant efforts and sacrifices had made the difference in what could have easily been a hopeless situation.

Steve had been on the station during the Reaper Invasion. He may have been a young child at the time but he had soon learned that the crown jewel of galactic civilization wasn't as safe as he'd been led to believe. It had been a hard truth for a young boy to learn. He had been old enough to remember Reaper troops massacring citizens, herding them into camps, and generally being fucking assholes.

Steven drained his drink and yawned in an attempt to ease the burning in his throat. "You know, as a matter of professional courtesy I make it a point not to tell the stories you and the boys have told me about your missions to anyone else, but sometimes I wish I had, if only to make these people understand exactly how much you guys do for them."

He gestured at the patrons in his bar. Both the turian and the quarian had started cuddling while the asari had finished their drinks and were now simply lounging in leisure. One of the krogan was laughing as another was telling what appeared to be a joke and the workers were now having what appeared to be a drinking contest between a slight, human female and a large, brown-plated turian.

Steve smiled and nodded at me. "We owe you a lot, for keeping the horrors away."

I looked back behind me, drinking in the sight of all these people living, laughing, and loving. Able to do so because of people like Cade, like Percival, like Sergeant Mardinus, Lieutenant-Commander Barthilus, Lieutenant Johnathan Bradford and Sarah. They would never know the price they had paid to buy their safety. And it was a price that we'd keep on paying, happily, no matter how much it might cost.

I was still the only one seated at the bar, but from the distinctive clack of an approaching pair of high-heels and the scent of that familiar perfume I surmised that it would not stay that way for long.

"Speaking of horrors…" Steve whispered. Without another word he grabbed a few bottles and made his way over to where the crowd of workers were still celebrating, offering free drinks on the house to the raucous cheers of his patrons.

A tall, raven-haired woman with hazel eyes slid casually into the barstool beside me. She was wearing a black, low-cut dress and black high-heels. Her eyes were rimmed with mascara and eyeliner and a series of gold bracelets hung on her left hand. Most would consider her beautiful, stunning even. Those who actually knew her might consider her a bitch.

"Figures I'd find you here," she smiled mischievously. Her voice had the lightest of English accents but she looked as if she could have passed for any of the European and middle-eastern nationalities. I rubbed my brow and silently counted to three in my head.

She patiently awaited my response as I internally prepared myself to deal with her. Eventually I decided that no amount of time would ever prepare me for dealing with her, so I sighed and downed the rest of my drink in one swallow. Fuck, I was at four, wasn't I?

"What do you want, Elle? And why are you dressed like an escort?" I said quietly.

"An escort!" she gasped, mortified. "Is that any way to talk to a friend?"

I sighed again, louder this time.

"I actually had a list of nouns ready, but that was the nicest one," I told her. I wasn't in the mood for this and as much as I didn't want to, I knew I was getting sucked in already. She knew me and she knew me well.

Elektra smiled and shrugged her shoulders. "If you must know, I just came back from business. Heard through the grapevine that you and the boys also touched down just two days ago so I figured I'd come and say hi."

I looked at her oddly. It wouldn't do to appear touched by her concern, she'd only use that to her advantage. "So what, you're following me now?"

"Hardly," Elektra sniffed, "It's not like you have anywhere to go. You're either here, down in the Spectre offices, or back at your apartment, playing that stupid game with Cade."

Galaxy of Fantasy was not stupid.

"Speaking of, how is Cade and Percival?" Elektra asked. "I assume they went on mission with you, since you all went dark about seven months ago. World tour?"

I sighed and signaled for Steven to make his way over. He gave me a pleading look but I stared crossly at him until he got his handicapped ass out of his seat and started hobbling his way back to the bar. Time to break my four drink rule. Also he really didn't need to hobble, not with that top-of-the-line prosthetic that I'd gotten him two Christmases ago. What a drama queen.

Steven poured another few fingers into my glass and then poured an ever larger one for himself.

"Elektra, good to see you again," he said with a grimace.

Elektra smiled brilliantly at him, "Be a dear, Steven. One vodka martini, with a slice of lemon peel. Shaken, not stirred, please. And put it on his tab."

Steve sighed and looked at me sympathetically, but all I could do was tap my credit chip against his omni-tool and pay for the full amount. Sometimes you had to lose the battle to win the war.

We sat in blessed silence as Steven prepared her drink. After it was finished, she took a slight sip, closed her eyes and sighed with pleasure.

"Thank you, Steven, perfectly done as always."

"No problem, Elektra," Steve said cautiously.

"Now beat it, the grown-ups have to talk," she grinned.

Steve rolled his eyes and made his way back to interact with his other patrons. I sighed for the twelfth time since Elektra sat down and stood up from my stool. Elektra watched as I went behind the bar and grabbed the rest of the bottle Steve had been topping me off from, setting it down in front of where I was seated. Steve looked over and nodded, but otherwise gave me a look to say that I'd be on my own from here on out.

Elektra crossed her legs, causing her dress to ride up high enough to attract the attention of several of the patrons. Not a single soul came up to say hi to her, however, or to drop a cheap pick-up line. Her amp was partially visible on the nape of her neck, as was mine. No one wanted to be blasted to smithereens.

She took another sip, then set her drink down.

"So, seven months, world tour. You don't call, you don't text, I was starting to get a bit worried you know," she pouted.

I shrugged at my glass. "Perks of the job, you know how it is."

She grabbed my chin with one hand and tilted my face towards her so that I'd be forced to meet her eyes. Hazel eyes stared into my blue ones and her smile instantly disappeared.

"I don't know, that's the problem," she began. "What I do know is that about six weeks ago, all Systems Alliance chatter from the SSV Hippocrates went dark. When I tried to get in touch with my contacts aboard the ship, not one of them sent word back."

She downed the rest of her drink, daintily pulled a napkin from a dispenser and gently wiped her mouth, careful not to smear her lipstick.

"And finally, just a week ago I got a call telling me to cut my trip short. Tell me what's going on, Cloud," she insisted.

She was going to find out one way or another. Might as well be from me, at least that way I could frame the situation to my benefit and she'd consider it a favor that I could later cash in on. In a professional way of course, because I am a man of absolute integrity.

I looked around, wary of any eavesdroppers. The turian and quarian couple had left along with the krogan, leaving just the workers and the asari. Steve had the workers occupied and the asari had actually moved to join their festivities, conveniently grouping all the patrons on the other side of the bar, as far away from us as they could be.

I moved my head a fraction closer to hers and started gently swaying in my seat, a wide grin on my face, trying my best to look like any other inebriated, intoxicated adult male who was simply hitting on an attractive female, just in case someone was watching or recording me.

Elektra picked up on my act and immediately plastered a sloppy smile on her face. She slid a hand up my thigh and used the other to prop her chin up.

"We'd just wrapped up a mission on Talis Fia we received a priority message from the Council," I began. "Are you familiar with the phenomenon on Earth and Thessia?"

Elektra furrowed her brows and nodded. "Vaguely, I heard that there were some unsettling implications regarding the phenomenon appearing on Thessia. Nothing new about the situation on Earth though, just that it's getting worse. Hard to know more when no one has been down there in years."

Our faces were about six inches apart now, allowing us to speak in the lowest of whispers. I subtly turned on my omni-tool and used its scanner function to detect whether or not she had any bugs on her or whether there were any in the surrounding vicinity. Nothing came up. Either she was actually playing straight with me or she'd gotten her hands on something even Spectre-grade scanners couldn't detect. She noticed what I was doing and rolled her eyes.

"Way to be subtle" she hissed. "A drunk male hitting on a female doesn't fiddle with his omni-tool mid-flirt, you bean."

Fair point, goddamn it. "Fine, well as you know the Systems Alliance Research and Development Division were tasked with studying the phenomenon on Earth," I began quietly.

"Yes," Elektra nodded again. "They've been doing so for the past decade, or something like that. Project Prometheus."

I poured another few fingers into my glass and took a small sip. "Correct, but what you might not know was that the next phase of Project Prometheus involved the eggheads activating a fucking Reaper Core."

Elektra's mouth flew wide open and the briefest spark of blue danced between her fingers. "Are they insane?"

It took all my self-control to withhold a scowl. "That's what I told them. Either way we didn't find out it was a Reaper Core until we were actually aboard the Hippocrates."

Elektra rubbed her eyes and tried to dispel the shock evident on her face. Like me, she was familiar with all the cloak-and-dagger shit that the Council put us through. "Okay, so what were you sent there for?"

"We were sent to make sure nothing fucked up happened, and if something did we'd handle it and contain it. Spoiler alert, some fucked up shit happened. Good thing the Council had their best Spectre on it."

She looked away for a second, amused. "Second best."

I brushed her light comment aside and pressed on. "They activated the Core, Elle. Then everything went to absolute fucking shit."

I had to close my eyes for a second as the wave of memories hit me full force. Memories of the Reaper Core changing doctors Singh, Messner, and Landry, turning them into massive, synthetic monsters. The screams and shouts of terror from their fellow scientists as the head researchers of the Prometheus Project began to kill them one by one, converting them into these mindless, twisted hunters hell-bent on slaughtering the crew and raising them as more of their own.

Sarah, the twisted doctor Devaris, the saboteurs, the Chimera, all of it surged up and threatened to break down all the walls that I'd spent the last six weeks putting up.

"The Reaper Core changed the crew, twisted them into these monstrous, synthetic creatures unlike anything that we'd ever seen, not even during the Reaper War, Ellie," I whispered.

"They started hunting down the crew, started converting them into more of these things. We don't know how it happened but we suspect that it was the work of some saboteur cell that had managed to embed itself within the ship's crew."

I briefly outlined all I knew about Locke, the turian, the salarian, and Olivia. Elektra's face went still and her already pale skin went a few shades lighter.

"None of my informants told me anything about this," she whispered. "Mordred? A stolen Systems Alliance cruiser? How could they have pulled this off?"

I shook my head. "No, it caught us all completely by surprise. Percival, Cade and I went over the Hippocrates' personnel files after we escaped. All of them were vetted and placed aboard the ship in various capacities some time ago, none of them were recent plants. Whoever planned this planned it well."

Elektra nodded, unsettled by the implication that whoever planned this could have more saboteurs seeded within the Systems Alliance. The fact that none of her informants had revealed even the slightest hint of this well-masked subterfuge worried her even further.

"Okay, so back to these creatures. Where did they come from?" she asked.

I sighed and took another long pull from my glass. "One of the saboteurs sent me a video recording. I don't have access to it right now but basically they believe that there's something in the DNA of a certain subset of Reaper Cores that's capable of infecting other living beings. I think that when we activated the Core, we activated the DNA."

"That is messed up, how are we just finding this out now?" Elektra asked.

I shrugged. "No idea. One of the survivors aboard the ship was a biologist by the name of Jaelen Veers. He conducted an analysis on some of the tissue samples we obtained from the creatures. He discovered that all the victims had evidence of some sort of alien DNA in their genomes, something that takes over and rewrites your body."

Elektra shuddered. "And do we know where this DNA came from?"

I shook my head and sighed. "No clue. My gut tells me that it came from one of the advanced races that the Reapers harvested and turned into the Reaper Cores. A researcher in the recording the saboteurs gave me hinted as much, but the file was corrupted so I wasn't able to watch the whole thing."

She grabbed the glass of whiskey that I'd been nursing and downed it in one gulp. That being done she grabbed the bottle from the bar and poured herself another one and downed it too. The smile on her face had been completely wiped away.

If I could describe the Elektra's resting face, the word that I'd use would be flirtatious. Percival's would be heroic, like he was about to say some kind of speech or rescue a kitten from a tree. Cade's would be amused, as if he was watching a video that wasn't funny enough to laugh out loud at but was still funny enough so that you'd smile slightly. Camilla's would be determined, and I've been told that I can come across as a bit stone-faced.

But the expression Elektra had now? Her flirtatious, playful mask that she often chose to hide behind was completely gone, like drops of dew in the morning sun or some other equally pseudo-poetic shit. All that was left was a mess of worry, anxiety, and fear. That was the Elektra I knew, the Elektra that I remembered all those years ago. The real Elektra, not the woman that she insisted on have the rest of us believe that she'd become.

"Tell it to me from the very beginning, Cloud. I want to hear every word," she said firmly.

I sighed and grabbed my glass out of her hands, refilled it and downed it as well.

We sat for the better part of two hours. I could see the Presidium begin to shift out of its night cycle and into the day. I told her everything, starting from when we boarded, to the start of the outbreak, then our journey to secure the data, to fix the engines, to remove the lockdown, our fight against the saboteurs and the creatures, me shooting the captain of the Hippocrates, my lone confrontation with the Chimera and then Olivia, and finally culminating with our escape and the heroic sacrifice of the two turians.

Elektra listened for the full two hours, uncharacteristically quiet, only speaking up when she asked me to repeat a detail or clarify a certain act. By the time I was done, the room was starting to spin, hard. I had finished the entire bottle

And not only was the bottle finished, but I also felt like I was reliving the entire ordeal once more. All the pain and horror and fear that I'd felt at the time, that I'd thought I'd put behind me once I left the ship, all of it came crashing back. My vision blurred, but whether or not it was from all the alcohol or tears was something that I could not tell.

The only thing I didn't tell her was about Sarah. Towards the end of my recounting of events I was having trouble stringing together full, comprehensible sentences and slurring a good portion of my words. When I finally finished, she looked at me with sadness and shock.

"Oh god, Cloud. I can't even begin to imagine… Thank god you three made it out okay," she said quietly.

I looked away. Steve had left an hour ago, he had set the bar to auto-lock once I had left.

A wave of vertigo suddenly hit me and I had to close my eyes. The empty glass rolled out of my fingers and fell to the ground. I stooped to try and catch it but missed.

It fell and shattered into a million pieces on the floor.

I got out of my chair and tried to kneel to pick up the broken shards. The entire room was spinning and I felt the contents of my stomach rebelling against the sudden movement, trying violently to escape my control.

I heard her stand up as well. I felt a pair of smooth, soft arms slide across my chest, beneath my armpits, and around my back. "Here, I've got you," a distorted voice said.

I mumbled something, I wasn't sure what I said, maybe something about a list.

I felt myself being steered towards the door. The distorted voice beginning to talk again but the words failed to penetrate my alcohol-induced haze.

Then I felt nothing at all, and I sighed in relief.

March 8th, 2211. The Citadel, Presidium, Silversun Strip — Tiberius Towers

Six weeks after the events aboard the SSV Hippocrates

I rolled out of bed, trying my best not to disturb the form beside me. The slightest hint of sunlight had begun to sneak through the edges of the heavy blackout curtain that covered the windows.

The bedroom was large and the bed was nearly three times as big and ten times as comfortable as the one I had back in my place. The custom dressers looked more expensive than my Snakebite and the nightstand looked to be carved by hand from Rannochian wood. A massive closet filled with dresses was connected to one side of the room and dozens of expensive shoes lay strewn around the floor.

You could probably buy a military fighter jet with the contents of this room. Someone evidently spent a lot more time looting bad guys than I did on the job.

I groaned as I massaged my lower back, where the kinetic shield generator and the knife had dug into it. As quietly as I could, I padded softly to the door, opened it, and slipped out.

Once I was in the apartment's equally massive, ostentatious living room, I pulled up a list on my omni-tool and looked at it.

I stumbled outside, still half-drunk, and began my slow walk to the location on said list.

The Silversun Strip was the Las Vegas of the Citadel. The streets were clean and shiny and filled with the affluent, all of them with smiling and laughing and chatting amongst themselves. Even at this early hour I could see people walking into its various casinos with smiles on their faces and large wallets. Fancy restaurants and stores were all open, with flashy holo-signs outside that proclaimed their wares.

A turian in a crisp suit gave me a look of derisiveness as glanced at my disheveled clothing and my unkempt hair. I couldn't blame him, even if he did stand to be knocked down a few pegs. My navy blue leather jacket was a bit crumpled and my white T-shirt technically wasn't white any more.

A couple of asari in dresses standing outside a restaurant did shoot me a few flirty glances as I approached, but when I came closer the smell of alcohol wiped those glances clean off their pretty blue faces. I ignored them and kept on walking.

I eventually reached the elevator and slapped a hand on the button, calling it to me. I stepped inside and pressed a button. The elevator would take me straight down to one of the Lower Wards, Bachjret Ward to be precise. I glanced at the list and then a map of the ward on my omni-tool. It shouldn't be too long of a walk.

I remembered closing my eyes for just a second, but I didn't wake up until I heard the chiming of the elevator indicating that I'd arrived at my location.

I stumbled out the doors and into the Lower Wards.

Bachjret was like a whole other planet compared to the Silversun Strip and the Presidium. The first thing you noticed was the people.

Unlike those who I'd seen on the Silversun Strip, these people were dressed less garishly and pretentiously. Some wore simple jumpsuits or overalls, many of them looking worn-out, threadbare, or had holes that had been haphazardly patched up with a fabric of a different color. Others had normal clothing such as the attire I was currently dressed in. Nobody was dressed like anyone you'd find up on the Presidium.

And not everyone was smiling and laughing. Sure, some were, but many other faces were also sad, angry, tired, annoyed, or straight-up depressed.

The next thing you noticed was C-sec. The Citadel's finest patrolled the streets in either pairs or groups of four, dull blue and black armor and standard-issue M-8 Avengers and M-3 Predators on their backs and on their hips. Most were turian, many were human, but there were a good number of salarians and asari.

Visually you noticed that the wards were also very different from the Presidium and Silversun Strip. They were dirtier and had a different kind of life to them. The shops were smaller and less well-lit, holo-strip advertisements would flicker here and there, and you'd even find paper posters affixed to the walls and litter in the streets. It reminded me of home.

But the wards didn't look neglected, at least, not in these parts. You'd see greater evidence of neglect the deeper you went — evidence of poverty, of drug-use, of crime, especially in the seedier parts, parts that C-sec didn't have the manpower to constantly patrol.

No, it felt more well-worn, lived-in. Real. One couldn't see and know the galaxy for what it truly was and stomach the crispness and sterility of the Presidium and its locales. The only reason why I lived there was because I'd lost a bet with Cade and ended up as his roommate. And the Serenity of course, bless that bar.

And last but not least, you noticed the smell. Whereas the Presidium constantly smelled pristine, clean, disinfected, the Lower Wards in comparison were awash with the scent of a dozen different species, their cultures and their professions. A pair of krogan walked by, smelling like gunpowder and raw meat. A batarian selling human hotdogs smelled like, well hot dogs.

A quarian reeking of disinfectant passed by, followed by a couple of salarians who smelled like they worked in sewage and maintenance. An asari ran a fruit juice stand some distance away that made smoothies out of a native Thessian fruit that smelled like a cross between an orange, a mango, and something else I could not identify.

Every time I visited the Presidium, the Spectre offices, and the Council Tower, I liked to come down to the Wards afterwards to cleanse my palette. I liked to walk around and rid myself of the bad taste that all that sterility and artificialness left in my mouth. This was what was real, this was what I was fighting for.

I eventually found the address on the list and looked up. The apartment was maybe half the size of my own, and less than a fifth as large as the Tiberius Towers. It looked to be in some state of disrepair. A few of the windows were boarded up, and I could see the silhouettes of some of the inhabitants moving about inside.

I opened the doors and walked in. An old salarian security guard was watching a holo-vid on his omni-tool behind a desk in front of the elevators. He didn't spare me a second glance as I walked up and pressed the button, calling for the elevator down to my floor. A panel lit up indicating that the elevator was currently on the top-most floor. Fucking Korlus.

Eventually the elevator reached the lobby. I entered it and slapped the button for the 12th floor. I heard the motors creak and groan as the elevator began to pull itself up. By the sound of it the pulley hadn't been maintained since perhaps before the Reaper War. I made a mental note to send someone to fix it later, on Spectre Authority.

After a long, slow climb I finally reached the 12th floor. I moved down the hall, looking for apartment 1227.

I found it and knocked on the door. After about a minute, a young, slim girl in her early twenties shyly opened the door and peaked her head out. Her eyes were baggy and her skin was palid. She looked like she hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in a long while. I would know.

"Nancy? Nancy Peterson?" I asked.

The girl nodded slowly. "Yes, that's me, can I help you?"

I sighed ran a hand through my hair. "Mind if I come in? I was hoping I could talk to you, about your sister, Barbra."