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7-19-2183
[ HORSE HEAD NEBULA | PAX SYSTEM | NOVERIA | PEAK 15 ]
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John stopped, face beset with the pain of having to inhale this frightfully cold air.
"Hold on. I need to catch my breath."
With hardly the will to stand on his own, he let his sling hold onto his gun so he could grip the marred railing in this felled hallway. "Garrus. Hold security."
Garrus took up a position and knelt down, rifle raised, and stilled himself. He gave the commander and the frozen gore etched into his gear a glance. "You okay?"
"Yeah." He nodded through a careful sigh, "I'm fine."
"Are you sure." Tali persisted in Garrus' place despite his placating answer, "You don't look okay."
"I'm okay," He murmured, putting up a hand to assure her, "I swear. I'm okay."
She didn't believe him. She stepped closer and inspected what she could to make sure he wasn't lying, intentional or not. Without even asking, she sleuthed off some of the rachni shit encrusted in his suit seals to double-check everything for him.
The silence between the trio was deafening to some degree. Aside from the hollow gusts from the hallway's broken alpine windows and the snow that continued to settle, it was quiet.
Shepard didn't say anything as she palpated and inspected for damage. The fight they'd just survived was a nightmare too close to reality. It was a dark dance of luck. A lone rachni had nearly killed John. Nearly killed her. Razored limbs. A petrifying and alien scream from the animal that tried to gore them. In its frenzied and blind charge, Shepard caught one slashing spear full across the face, while its monstrous legs sought to pin him beneath. Tali's plate carrier had borne the brunt of its fury as well, a vicious strike slamming into her with the force of a rocket. Shepard, in the pitfalls of its attack, had collapsed to the ground. Yet even in his fall, his weapon had roared to life to speak for his desperate ferocity. He unleashed an incendiary maelstrom into the beast's underbelly, tore open its entrails, and cavitated its chest. Its roar of rage and agony chilled the cold air and, unfazed by the storm of fire eating it away, continued its relentless assault until Tali let free a fat slug from her gun and rendered its head to mist. The resulting outcome had painted the Spectre like a mad artist would a defenseless canvas. Only by the grace of their grit and gear had they survived.
She finished her inspection and held onto his shoulder pad. "You're okay."
"I told you I was."
"I was just making sure. Never can be too careful with you." She worked to gussy him up the same way a mom would her son. She wiped away more of what had dribbled behind his neck and any chunk that found its way into the nooks of his gear. It was the least she could do for him.
"Thanks, Tals." He murmured as she tried her best to clean him of the frozen slick, "I'll bring wet wipes next time."
She gave him a single dry and paltry laugh. "I think that's the best I can do." She said, pilling the goop between her fingers to discard the residue off her gloves, "Please be careful."
"I'll try."
"Blue-1, this is Silver-1. We're outside." Kaidan reported, "Ash and I are working on the landlines now."
"This is, uh..." Wrex fumbled with his radio, "Green team? Oh. Green-1..." There was a momentary pause as Wrex kept broadcasting. "...I'm Green-2? Shit. Nothing here at the VI core, Shepard. Sorry Liara, I get conf—"
Wrex ended the transmission both too late and too soon.
Shepard managed to crack a smile. "Full copy, Silver. Understood Green. Keep me posted. We're still heading deeper into the facility. We'll let you know of any important developments."
"Copy. Out." Kaidan said.
"Understood, Blue-1." Liara answered, "Out."
Tali watched John unfasten his helmet from his rig to inspect its warped crown one last time before finally laying it to rest in the snow. Thankfully, that was the worst that had come of their encounter. That and her chest rig, with its exposed ceramic plate and tattered fabric.
"Alright." He gave his rifle a once-over and leveled it, "Let's move."
"Aye." Garrus stood and they stacked up with Shepard leading. Only footsteps and silence for the next minute as they traversed deeper down its depths. Opening a door and crossing its breadth, they slowly scanned their sight lines and took up positions when they saw rachni in some kind of territorial duel over the remains of a dead body.
Tali then realized quite readily the body wasn't dead. Agonal breathing from a gaping torso missing both legs and an arm. Whatever was left of the remaining limb was barely anything to speak about. Wet bone detached from muscle fibers and little else. The face was a diced mess and only an eye remained. But it still held focus. Still trained on the two creatures torturing their plaything.
Like a button to mute, she lost her hearing. Eyes unblinking. The quarian's gaze transfixed on what could barely even measure to abject horror. She did the first thing that came to mind returning to reality. She got a sightline. And fired a single round from her machine pistol into the victim's head to grant what mercy she could.
Hate could barely cross what descended upon that woman. What she saw was an affront to the natural order, a sight so profoundly repugnant that it clawed at the very core of her soul, igniting an inferno that yearned to burn and roar. A tempest of revulsion. Detastation so powerful it warped the air around her in ways no biotic could ever hope to mimic.
Gun released from her grasp, she elected to produce her shotgun instead for the condemnation she poised herself to unleash. She stood in front of John and Garrus, emboldened and protected by what was to be divine wrath.
The rachni, realizing their game had come to an abrupt end, turned to face the slowly approaching quarian and felt delighted that meat-not-like-their-own had so willingly come out to them.
Unfortunately for the budding pair, they didn't yet yield the understanding to know she was armed unlike the dozens of others they'd torn apart.
"Tali, move!" John ordered. That order fell on the deafness of her resolve. She took aim at the leading rachni and fired, its skull instantly rendered hollow. As the carcass cartwheeled into a bloody summersault, she widened the choke and took aim at the second one scurrying toward her with its macabre screech.
She crushed the trigger and bathed it in superheated tungsten. It stumbled from the claymore blanket, crashing into a table and the contents upon it. Beakers and Erlenmeyer flasks shatter, chemicals searing its hide as it screeched.
At the fulcrum of its weaving speers, she fired, scooping fist-sized chunks from its shoulders.
"TALI!"
Rack and fire. She did it over and over into each of its limbs in an intentional and traumatic dissection. A torso now much like its victims, the shotgun fell from her grasp and she drew her knife.
John and Garrus immediately pull from cover to reach her.
She wrenched the nape of its neck upright and reared her blade, pointer against the hilt to issue what it had so readily given to the people of Peak 15. She thrust down into an eye and pulled down to its neck, wrenching and twisting to split whatever bone tried to stop her vivisection.
Then John yanked her way with Garrus finishing off what remained with a volley of fire. She fought and thrashed against his detainment, but John withheld.
"Tali. TALI." He continued to pull her away until his back lined a wall. Then he spun her around and forced her up against that alcove, hands still trapping her. "𝚃𝚊𝚕𝚒."
She stopped struggling and fixed her eyes against his. His heart and stare stiffened from what he was receiving and he let her go. Neither of them moved.
Too spooked to bring words to his lips, his stare finally faltered and she stepped aside. She drew up a forearm, cleaned her blade, and sheathed it.
She could feel their stares burning into her when she went for her guns waiting in the snow.
"John," Tali said with an even tone, racking the slide of her shotgun to check for malfunctions, "They deserved it and you know it. Kindly, lead us."
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The mission ended with Benezia's death. Ended with the team deciding to release the queen of Rachni.
The ride back to Noveria's spaceport had been a quiet one. Everyone had an opinion on what transpired on Peak 15, but it wasn't the time to be expressing them in the din of their tracked snowcat. Liara had to come to terms with killing her mother. Wrex's reservations about what they released were astute and well-seated. But Tali's issue had been the vexation clinging to her soul.
The beaten and exhausted squad of six shuffled through NDC's security gates and offered what information they could to the first responders preparing to make their way to commence relief efforts. The Normandy would remain in Port Hanshan for another day to meet with authorities the following morning as a courtesy to give their statements and testimony.
Then they all went to Normandy's port. Slowing her gait to draw distance from the group, she eventually stopped altogether and watched them enter the frigate's hold. She wanted to be alone. In the quiet solitude of the cold's omnipresence, she continued her idle stroll down the catwalk's length and braced herself up against the concrete, arms knit across her chest and atop the gray dais.
She stared at the vessel she called home. But she didn't pay attention to what she was seeing. The wintry bite of the slabs her body pressed up against bled into her skin but she didn't move.
She was fully cognizant of what was happening to her. Post trauma. It was plain and simple. She wasn't naive to know its effects. She'd felt it plenty. But it never felt any less awful and perturbing. A foreboding that festered.
Five minutes turned to ten. She stared listlessly at the blizzard howling at their dock's breadth, flakes traversing so sharply across the landscape they flowed almost horizontally. She watched the violence outside, mind absently having her pick at the fabric of her plate carrier.
A thought dropped in her lap and she began to rifle through her pockets until she found what she was looking for.
'ɪɢxᴀɴᴏғᴇɴ .256% ʀʟsᴇ | -ᴏɴᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴅᴏsᴇ- | ᴛᴇᴍᴘ. ʀᴇʟɪᴇғ ᴏғ sʏᴍᴘᴛᴏᴍs ᴏғ ᴏʀ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ/ᴇᴘɪsᴏᴅɪᴄ ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍᴀᴛɪᴄ sᴛʀᴇss.' The little capsule read.
Standard issue to a quarian pilgrim's IFAK. In the days leading up to her leaving the flotilla, she thought it stupid they'd been issued such a potent medicine. The stuffed had bellied a reputation back home. She doubted pilgrims were sidelining their pilgrimage to do what she was doing. But she supposed trauma came in all forms though. It wasn't a contest.
It rest there in her palm, eyes in a glazed trance. Of all the shit she'd seen, this was the one that had finally plucked her string. She could handle the death. She could handle the destruction. What she couldn't handle was what had happened on Peak 15. That was different. There was killing and war. Then there was that.
She turned away from the view, pressed her back against the barrier, and slid down its harsh surface, the ripstop of her plate carrier singing a raspy song until the hard and frigid ground met her.
She uncapped this little metal jar and fished for the syringe. Popping off its protective cap, she checked to make sure the pen was ready and primed before pressing it tightly against her thigh and depressing the button. She didn't even feel a pinch. She sniffled and sighed at the crutch she was using to make the pain go away.
Pen still in hand, arms held taught over knees, she pitched her head back against the hedge and closed her eyes. One minute the same as the last, she sat and waited for her reprieve. Time continued its unceasing draw. She lost herself to its passage.
Eventually, she felt a presence fall beside her. It was warm. It was quiet. She ignored it and paid it no mind. Then she felt something draw even closer. Too hard to discount its presence, she weakly opened her tired eyes to see John sitting beside her. He looked showered and was back in fatigues with a thick coat and beanie on.
"You've been out here for two hours." He murmured quietly to her. He wasn't facing her.
She checked her chrono to see he wasn't exaggerating. She really had been out here for that long. He didn't say anything else.
"How's Liara."
"Had a long talk with her. She's... handling what she can."
The silence between them was punctuated with the windy howl of the port's backdrop.
"...What happens now." She murmured finally. He knew she wasn't asking for a schedule. There was a momentous crawl and Shepard finally answered.
"You heal. You get better."
He could see her impassive stare trained against the wall in front of them. Vacant and without vigor. He reached for her hand and brought it down next to him to hold onto.
"You will get better, Tali. I promise."
She felt a sadness quake under his touch. Life ebbed back through his soft handle on her.
Still beside each other, knees still close to her chest, she dropped the pen and drew up arms to bury her face into his shoulder. It was a faint weep. A delicate whisper of pain. Hand holding her head and leaning her into a gentle rock, he stared up at the brutal architecture, tears encroaching his vision.
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CHAPTER 3
12-7-2183
[ PYLOS NEBULA | ILLIKAH SYSTEM | ULLIPSES ]
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Dawn.
The sun met the horizon and the dim light, pale and dreary, soon bathed the Normandy's remains amongst her place in this desolate plain.
Sleepy and somber, crew held their posts, though many had elected to begin boiling water over fires for morning coffee.
John woke. Sitting up, hand pushing out the sleep from his eyes, he yawned, head set downward as consciousness climbed.
He settled his gaze on her. Steady breaths. A rhythmic rise and stable fall. A nearly opaque face of glass, its beholder quartered to a land of dreams.
Beauty. It was all he could see. Every delicate curve of her face, every subtle expression she made. It captivated him utterly. It was serenity. The world could hardly hold a candle next to this woman.
His stare, for everything they were up against, still somehow softened.
He loved her. It was such a simple, undeniable, truth. From heart to soul, he knew this woman was the one.
But his heart ached. Pain he couldn't explain. A ghostly foreboding that floated in the distance. Powerless to reconcile his anxieties, he thought it best to get up from bed, carefully, he might add, so as not to wake her, and get dressed before heading out to start the day.
Only two priorities remained. Fix their beacon. Fix their water recycler.
The first thing that met him was Garrus and Liara and their sprawl of all the gadgets and gizmos he'd need to get their transponder running on the mess table.
"Morning." John mumbled to them both.
"Good morning." Garrus said with his own mumble, mind completely focused on scouring this circuit board for blemishes.
"How long you been working on this?"
"Went to bed same time you did," Garrus said flatly, "Just picked it back up an hour ago."
"What about you, Liara?"
"Been up an hour now." She said with a crabby-looking stare, "My back is— it's killing me."
"I can imagine. Build up an appetite yet?"
"I did." She yawned, "Except the only thing I can stomach when I'm that hungry is ice cream. Which..." A pitiful sigh, "melted. No freezer."
"Ah. Well." John sat down next to Garrus and mindlessly started persuing through the parts and pieces himself, "Hot ice cream might still be good."
Liara gave John a leer. "No thanks."
"Prognosis, Garrus?"
"You're lucky I worked on these back in the military," The turian leaned even closer to his work, eyes in a squint, "Glad the Normandy was smart and stuck with turian procured transponders."
"They're tried and true, I imagine."
"Haven't changed them for a thousand years." Satisfied, he set the board down for the next.
"If it's so great," She yawned again, "then why'd it break?"
"Well," He gave her a quick glance, voice guarded and defensive, "Do you know how hot the ship was when we finally finished crashing?
John crossed his arms over the table. "What?"
"Mach 2, Shepard. We hit the ground fast. A little over three kilometers is how long we skid across the surface right after an unguided, undialed, mass effect entry. Five thousand degrees celsius is what was logged before the sensors popped. The hull melted like a popsicle. She's fused to the ground. Yet, here we are, transponder still somehow intact and only a couple pieces broken."
"How did we not die then?"
"Blame the IES. She absorbed a lot of that heat through her sinks."
"Even in death, she took care of us." John murmured sadly.
"Still taking care of us." Garrus said with a sad smile, "The Dravens got our water up and running about three hours ago. Bathrooms are functional now. You can take a shower if you want."
"You're joking me." John rose his brows, "Are you serious?"
"He's not lying," Liara nodded, "Just had one."
John didn't waste himself a minute more. He needed one. He stood and gave Garrus a pat across his back. "Keep up the good work, Vakarian."
"You got it, boss."
Straight to his locker for his toiletries before beelining it to the stalls.
Not a minute later and Shepard's cabin door opened again. It drew two confused glances from Liara and Garrus as they saw Tali step out in a sleep-ridden stupor.
What was a confused surprise turned into two wistful grins. Liara set both elbows up on the table and perched her face all cute-like. "Oh my, Tali. Was that where you were?"
She stammered and those cheeks of hers flushed. "Heh."
"Just like on Zakera," He said pointing at Tali before looking at Liara with a giant smirk, "Where was that at again, Liara?"
"Jumai suites," Liara said with raised brows and a smile that refused to die, "In August, I think."
"That's right."
John by now reached the showers. When the doors opened, his eyes were assaulted and he took in the sordid sight, face twisting up at the biological atrocity.
He'd made it an entire year without ever seeing this. But today was the day.
"Shepard!" Wrex boomed with his smirk, arms outstretched and naked, manhood the likes of which John couldn't fathom existing in this universe out on full display. In all its quadful glory.
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A sip of coffee. John stared and waited with a dozen or so of all the crew mulling around the bow while they watched Garrus work to install what was going to be the Normandy's newly refurbished transponder.
A bent panel removed and a mess of newly spliced wires from Tali, Garrus set it back in with a pop and spark.
"Alright, Adams. She's got power. What do you see?" Garrus called over comms.
"I'm seeing a green line."
Garrus frowned and, still in a squat, tapped through his menus and logs to see if the ship was communicating with the thing. "I... she's not telling me anything."
"Really?" Tali bent down next to him with Monica Negulesco, four hands already working to check if their connections had been done correctly. When everything checked out, Garrus sighed and stood, head shaking as he tapped again a refresh command to see if anything would come up. Nothing did.
Another sip of coffee before John spoke. "No question of competency, but— any chance the repairs weren't good?"
"I was thorough, Shepard." Garrus said, "Four rounds of checks and another from Tali, Adams, and Monica. It should be functional."
"What now?"
"Well. She is on," Garrus said, hand swaying out to point at the patchwork, "It's telling me that, but... I have no idea if she's broadcasting."
"What's going on, guys?" Adams called from Garrus' speaker phone, "We good?"
Disappointment evident in Garrus' voice, he replied. "We don't know. I'm going to have to keep working on it."
A round of upset grumbling and downcast sighs, the men and women of Normandy dispersed leaving only the four of them.
"Sorry, Garrus." Monica stood, bothered it wasn't reporting anything, "I suppose we have no choice but to go back to the drawing board."
"I think we should leave it." Tali stepped back and took a space next to John, "The quantum chip is powered. It might be broadcasting right now."
"Maybe we should wait a day then redo it all tomorrow?" Garrus suggested.
"If you think that's a good idea guys, then go for it." Shepard shrugged, "What say you, Adams?"
"Why not."
"Then that's what we'll do." John nodded with finality.
Patting their hands free of dust from hands and knees, they stepped back and all agreed to that decision.
"Well. What now?"
John looked up and watched the sky and the rain that still had suffused the heavens. "I'm thinking it might be time to visit that myself."
A gentle and quiet but all-encompassing sound soon began to leech through the air. It made John's ears perk and the hairs on his neck stand.
A sonic boom. It grew louder and John sent his stare upward and around searching for what could be the source.
"Where is that."
Tali herself was darting her eyes across the sky. "I... I don't know."
All three of them looking and scanning, Garrus elected to climb aboard the Normandy's roof to see if even a little elevation could net him a find. Crew outside were also standing and searching.
It was unmistakable now. Something out there was breaking the sound barrier.
"Get a bead on that, people." John ordered.
"Got it." Garrus said from up high, OT on with a conveniently installed phased array system now running, "Sound's coming southeast from here."
Not twenty seconds go by and it was gone. Someone was out there. Whether or not that was a good or bad thing... no one could say. Regardless, John knew they had something to go on. From here on out, the Mako would be on full rotation. Dawn 'til dusk, she would be searching for whatever had caused that noise.
God willing, it was the Alliance already looking for them.
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Night came. Nine long hours out there in the Mako with Liara and Wrex. Relentless as it was, their search had returned empty-handed and without a clue of where the sound had originated—a disappointing albeit expected outcome.
It'd been an hour now since they'd been back. John had remained inside since, spending his time in the infirmary chatting it up with anyone stuck there from their bedridden injuries.
Tali, left without much to do the entire day, milled about and tried to kill time by chatting and helping where she could. But now she was alone with only her campfire. Knees drawn up close and arms wrapped around her legs.
"Hey."
She turned around. It was Garrus.
"Oh. Hey."
"You know where Ash is?"
"She was here an hour ago. She went inside, I think."
"Was just in there though."
"Then she's probably back at her post. What do you need?"
"Nothin'. Figured I'd bother her just to pass the time."
"Such a gentlemen."
"Only to ladies."
She gave him a snort. "Are you implying Ashley isn't a woman?"
He climbed atop a crate she'd been closest to, binos in hand, and laid down.
"Yes."
A blank nod. "...That's fair."
She glanced up from his spot and rose a brow at the thing in his hands.
"Trying to get a view?"
"Yeah."
"Is it really any better with those?"
"I guess."
Silence.
"...Looking for anything in particular?"
"Nope." Garrus answered, peering and looking.
Again, silence.
"What are you thinking about?" She asked to keep him talking.
"About home." He said, "Home home."
"Mom and Dad?"
"Yeah."
Garrus with a mom and dad. It was hard to picture. Even harder to picture him as a boy. Running around. Doing boy things. Maybe it was a lack of imagination. Or the inability to conceptualize.
She absently played with the ends of her clothes, "...What are they like?"
"Dad's a hardass."
"Oh. Wow. What a surprise."
"Mom's a sweetheart."
"You are a bit of a blend of the two." Tali supposed, "Like an 80/20 mix, I think. 90/10 more like, actually."
"Thanks." He couldn't get a clear enough picture of the stars, so he set them aside and crossed his hands together. "What about you? What about your parents?"
"Oh, I don't... don't have a lot to my family." She struggled to say, "Mom's gone and... dad. —Well. He's not around much."
"Why'd it take me a year to ask? Sorry, Tali."
"Don't be." She murmured, head now nestled too over her knees. "It is what it is."
He turned slightly toward her from his perch above, "I think I'm... gonna go to sleep."
"Right there?"
"Why not?"
"Don't you... hate being cold?" She asked him. It was a little chilly out here.
"It's tolerable." He murmured, "Wake me if anything stupid happens."
"Okay." She breathed, "Good night."
"Night, Tali. No pranks please."
"Alright."
"Don't wrap me in duct tape."
"Okay."
"Don't pour water on my face either. I hate that."
"Okay, Garrus."
"No whipped cream in my hands."
"Garrus. Okay."
And like that, Garrus slowly surrendered to slumber, breaths gradually evening out into the rhythmic cadence of a soundless snore. The day's boredom had finally claimed him, leaving her alone in the quiet solitude of her campfire.
Fireflight. It danced and crackled, highlighting, through her glass, lines of steady tension and contemplation.
She watched it flicker and sway. Studied and observed the shoals and ash spiraling away from the heat that warped the air. At its core, embers burned their heavy glow. Above the flames that waved was the dark heavens that blanketed them. It fought for her attention so she gazed up.
Through a thin smile, her breath eased out from how wonderfully regal it was. There wasn't a city, a town, or a line of air traffic to snuff out the galaxy's natural twinkling light.
And just beyond the cusp of the closest mountain to them, lay the Milky Way, its center bright enough to cast a dark silhouette over the horizon.
It was stuff straight out of a picture book. But here, she didn't have to admire through paper and print. It was something she could relish upfront and firsthand.
There were billions of stars in just their galaxy alone to make up what she saw. Billions of them. Across this black canvas was a collective of ceaseless space. To stare up at the sky was to stare at the vastness of forever.
"Beautiful." She murmured.
It was an endless ocean of galaxies in the cosmos. Each with its seas of suns, moons, and planets. Each beholding brines of nebulae, quasars, and black holes. Mind-numbing to think about. A great way to set off an existential crisis if you ever were looking for one.
Her stare fell back to the fire that colored her in its warm marooned hues. Slightly parched, she reached for her flask of water, eyes back to wander the heavens. The flotilla was out there. Somewhere.
And if they ever made it off this rock, she'd have to go back to them. An uncomfortable sadness fell, flames shimmering brightly against her eyes.
She'd delay for as long as possible. But it was only forestalling an inevitable. One day she'd have to leave no matter how much she didn't want to. She wanted to stay with John. But people had to follow reality. And reality said to follow your responsibilities and not chase after a foolish dream of the heart.
At least she could say she wasn't ashamed of it. That much she was sure of. She drank deeply until she was quenched of thirst. She set her flask back where it came from and breathed before looking out toward the shower of shooting stars that stranded them here in the first place.
She was surprised to see them still going strong like that. Maybe not as strong as it used to be if it meant anything. A dozen a minute, give or take. Same pace. They'd come barreling in. Then start slowing down before disappearing from the mountaintops out in the distance.
How irksome. It forced her to let out a long and drawn out sigh. Their situation was a lame space opera come true. Just like that one awful movie she watched last month with its equally awful special fx. Why she even bothered watching it when the ratings on rotten potatoes were the way they were.
...Oh no.
A cold sweat ran across her neck. Her wanderings evaporated under this blindingly terrible itch suddenly on her nose.
Rather dumbly, she went for it; only for her palm to bludgeon against the glass sitting in front of her face. The fact she'd even tried doing that was a testament to how often she was out of this thing.
Her lips tremble and she felt it burn like a frenzy.
"Ah... damnit." Was this how the rest of her night was going to be?
Funny irony how John had once jokingly suggested she tape up velcro somewhere inside her helmet for such a crisis. She laughed it off, knowing full well that wouldn't work given how different her visor was from his.
It didn't feel so funny anymore now feeling this. What she wouldn't give to just take off this stupid bucket.
It continued its reign of torture. She flared her nose, twisted it this way and that, and frowned when it couldn't provide her the relief she wanted.
Her fingers even started twitching at the idea, mimicking the process of detaching the glass from her face. But it was just plain stupid to even consider.
She narrowed her eyes into a squinty glare.
But was it though? Given the circumstances as of late? Was she really fated to just... die and never know what life could feel like? To feel the cold bite of air? The hot touch of fire? To see the stars as they were? ...Or the touch of another's lips?
These could very well, truly, be her last days.
In the few seconds that followed, she tried to reign in these intrusive thoughts but failed miserably because of how unbearable this pulsing thing was doing to her face.
She grit her teeth and shut her eyes to the world, her sadness and, what was now impatience, descending even further.
The stars twinkled their cosmic indifference. When she forced herself to look up at them, she felt a new perspective that was strangely liberating.
The galaxy had hurled its worst at her, and still, she stood. Was she cursed even then to submit to the quarian identity? To believe wholly that her second skin was both her sanctuary and her prison no matter what?
Reality said yes. Her heart said no. And because of that, the bite of recklessness didn't quite have that hold on her anymore. What mattered more was to not feel and be. To void yourself of life's most basic sensations. To deny yourself the present at every turn. It made her realize that to live so cautiously meant never really living at all.
Yet, in a callback, she could remember vividly the lectures and warnings of elders, voices a cautionary echo through her memory. But were those not the same elders clinging to survival in an obsessive madness in the same way they clung to their fears? To pass down what they believed best despite the chance that maybe, just maybe, they were being overzealous in their machinations?
Odd how such a petty tormentor set on a nose could catalyze such a resolve. But, in that same vein, a shadow stretched forth and her deeper past crept, its veil looming. How could she say any of this when her very own mother was a specter of that fate? She had, at her end, succumbed to these very real risks. And here she sat, on the brink of defying the very lesson born out of her deepest loss.
But part of that new and liberating perspective meant seeing the tragedy through a different optic. A different kind of lesson that she'd slowly, rather unknowingly, had come to learn.
Her mother's fate clearly demonstrated something inherent in her blood. In Tali's blood. To yearn for freedom. To feel. To touch the world. To see it raw. What she wanted to do wasn't just rebellion against the prison she wore. This was a homage to the very same yearning her mother had felt. To have a life in its fullest and most unguarded form. Another stroke of irony. Somehow, Tali knew as soon as she'd been gifted that damn clean room on the Normandy, that these feelings mom had were destined to nestle inside her soul.
But now she finally understood. That to live in a shadow, to always wonder, to always remain imprisoned, was its own form of dying.
Having said all this, Tali was still grounded to reality. She wasn't imposing some kind of ultimatum on herself. She wasn't suggesting anything crazy. Nor was she implying that she wanted to discard the very thing that protected her life. Because that really would be a death sentence. She could grovel and gripe all she wanted; her little army of antibodies weren't somehow going to get stronger.
The whole point of this revelation however was that, perhaps, not every breath you sucked in that wasn't through a filter was going to kill you.
Her hands reached up to draw back her realk. She practiced this hundreds of times now. It was no different than when she did it in the safety of her room. But out here, the clasps that lined the back of her neck and around her face felt like shackles.
"Come on, you coward." She muttered defiantly as a challenge, hands pressed against the seals on her cheeks.
Just do it.
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
ㅤ
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ
There was this thing Tali had remembered a while back.
Something about sinning if she remembered right. Not an entirely accurate word to use, Tali supposed. But it was close enough to her.
She felt like she was sinning. Helmet off. Open air. Rationalizing it all away just because her heart somehow convinced her to? Preposterous. Regardless of the intent, the itch had been murdered from a two fingered assault. Dead and gone.
She took another shallow breath and closed her eyes before squishing the guilt. She focused on the good instead.
The air. Fresh and crisp. Cold and frosty. It felt cleaner than anything she'd ever breathed before. Then she leaned toward the fire as if to confide in it, face cast in its light and shadow. She could smell its heat. Could take in the bite of its arid smoke. Its hotness hurt. Pain unruly and uncomfortable. But it made her feel so incredibly alive.
An experience that would leave a lasting mark. It would be something to remember forevermore if they survived this ordeal. That sticking thought stayed and neither the stars or the flames could hold her attention now.
God, she hoped they'd survive this. Peace in her heart or not, this was not how she wanted this story to end. What she expected to be silence thereafter in her pondered reflections was not. She heard something. Her back went rigid and her ears twitched at what was the sound of subtle footsteps. She snapped her head toward the offending noise, eyes wide and frightened.
It was John, bundled in a coat, a yawn escaping him as he crossed out from the breadth of the Normandy's neck where there should've been an aerobridge to meet him.
Rooted to her spot, she watched with those same wide eyes, her insanity finally catching up to her as she realized fully what she'd been stupidly doing. She was exposed. She was naked. Her spirit choked and spat and was red in the face from the emotional tug of war now battling inside, all of it happening while a hand crept toward the glass and composites that hid her features from the world. But a compassionate and devoted desire soon cinched that action and her fingers held.
'𝓐𝓱! 𝓨𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓰𝓸𝓷𝓷𝓪 𝓭𝓲𝓮! ' She felt.
'But I want this.' The other feeling argued.
'A stupid wish, you dense moron! Swallow your pill of sense and put it on! 𝑵𝑶𝑾.' Her reason howled back.
Her hand had yet to inch any closer to perceived safety. The here and now, she repeated to herself defiantly. She was staring down an inimitable precipice of opportunity. It was a wordy word, inimitable. But it fit. Nothing equaled its description for this situation. This kind of chance wouldn't be happening again. Her bones said so. Never was she closer than now to what she had so long imagined. And for what other reason had she left her earpiece in if not for the inkling hope that he would just pop out those doors and waltz his way straight to her?
Somehow, in a personal miracle to her, the universe granted this silly wish and it actually happened.
Silence hung in the air as John surveyed the quiet scene around him; where everyone else seemed lost to slumber or on the brink of it.
She still said nothing, but her spirit called out to him. It waved its arms, whistled, and yoo-hooed, but the man didn't have the sense to see it. So emboldened to still make this look like a happenstance, she stood up, still near the fire's apex of light, to make it known where she was.
As he scanned, he found her silhouette and, like a magnet to steel, made his way to her.
Her heart skipped. And, caught in the grip of fear and anticipation, it seemed to have stopped altogether. In but a small passing moment, he was about to see what she really looked like behind all that glass.
His last step had him locking eyes with hers. The only thing separating their gaze was air. His eyes were rushed with concern but were stuck in a daze.
"...Tali?"
She sucked in a shallow breath. She didn't know if she was supposed to smile, or frown, or run away.
Realizing he still had about ten feet between them, he approached more slowly, face still that sloppy mess of shock and awe.
He picked the best words his gumball brain could think of. "Oh my god."
"...Hi."
Oh.
Whoa.
Two surprises in the span of ten seconds. He just heard her voice. Like, without the speaker. He was spellbound by that milky note. Then he realized he'd been boring holes in those angelic and dimly glowing halos with his less ornamented ones like a sorry sap.
"—I'll stop staring. I'm sorry. What happened to your visor?—Why's it off?—Did it break?—Do you have another one?"
"John. I'm fine."
"But where—How—"
"I'm fine." She repeated, swooping down to show him the thing, "It's right here."
Confident he'd seen it long enough, she stuffed it back into her bag.
"Jesus, Tali. Why is it even off?"
"Uhm," she trailed off and sighed with a shrug, "I wanted to pick my nose?"
Still the same Tali. But it still felt so incredibly different. Like he was talking to another person.
Could you fall for the same person twice? Like, even deeper?
"You're kidding me. Is that safe?"
"Look at me."
John met her gaze and swallowed.
"I'm fine." She repeated for the third time.
John finally willed himself to calm down and to stop the breath holding.
"Okay." He said simply.
A million thoughts were running by both of them. And he did the only thing he could do. Stare at the fire and try not look like some pathetic, frustrated, simpleton who'd come across the most beautiful woman in all the galaxy.
Tali's face was burning. And it wasn't because of the campfire Garrus had made, no.
It was because John Shepard, the man she yearned for with all her heart, just saw her bare and naked face for the first time. She hadn't shown herself to anyone before. And now it was out for him to see.
This couldn't have been happening, even if it had been a little premeditated. Unfortunately, the way she imagined unmasking for him for the first time was supposed to have been much more romantic and less frightening.
She shrugged mentally. You couldn't have everything.
"How'd you do it?" John asked carefully. He wanted to stare again but stopped himself.
"Allergy spray. Pills."
"You're joking." He got another chance to look at her without it looking like he was trying.
"Nope. Fast-acting relief." She joked timidly.
"Huh. Think that'll fix your immunity?" He rasped lightly.
"If only."
"Heh." He turned back to face the fire.
Tali couldn't shake the idea that maybe his reaction was telling her something she didn't really want to know.
And now she was starting to feel disappointed. She was showing him a sacred piece of her. Honestly, she was hoping to get a more positive reaction out of him. A sign. An indicator. A hint even. Something. But it wasn't happening. Did the man she fall in love with not even find her appealing to look at anymore? Did he ever find her alluring?
Was she...? Keelah. Was she ugly? Some kind of nasty abomination? She swore she didn't look all that different from the rest of them.
Is that why he avoided looking at her?
She frowned and suddenly felt like hurling.
"Tali," His hand brushed against her two digits delicately, "What's wrong?"
"What's wrong?" She muttered painfully, "You're staring at anything but me. Why? You find me repulsive, don't you? —Keelah. I can't believe I even..." Tali couldn't help but feel tears welling in her eyes, "I'm sorry. I should just put my mask back on. I really hope you don't think differently of me or something."
The tears were visible now.
Everything she felt for John. Every moment she had made with him. Every high and low. Every hug and smile. Every shared meal and drink and all the celebrations. It all came crashing down on her shoulders. She'd been chasing something she should've never chased. She'd just been friend-zoned by the man she had fallen so deeply in love with.
How could she have been so stupid to have taken every signal he made wrongly? Every advance as some kind of indicator that he felt something too? It was all just a joke. Her eyes suddenly felt heavy and impossibly sad. The high she had felt moments ago was gone. Extinguished. Now she just felt tired.
Before she could kneel down for her helmet and run off, John stopped her by grabbing onto her arm.
"Stop. Don't." He said sadly.
She stopped and forced herself to look at him. "God. I'm sorry you have to see me like this." Her breath trembled and more tears fell from her face, "I bet Garrus would just have a field day with this one."
She tried to make a terrible joke but couldn't even muster the courage to laugh at it. Her eyes were blotted with tears. She didn't even know why she was crying like this. It was humiliating. Embarrassing. Shameful even.
John's stomach lurched and fell all at the same time seeing what his reaction had done. He hadn't realized how sensitive she was going to be about this.
"How could you say that about yourself?" He looked at Garrus who'd been sound asleep while he cradled his binoculars as if it were a doll.
She turned away and clamped her eyes shut.
He squeezed her arm to reassure her. "I can't believe you think you're ugly. You're gorgeous."
John wasn't lying. Her thin nose and pursed lips. Those gentle, candled eyes. Her skin, a silken velvet. She was a goddess trapped under a layer of glass. And John, for lack of better words, was absolutely awed.
She took one deep breath and wiped her eyes with a glove. "Oh please. Always trying to make me feel better."
He didn't let go. "Of course I got to make you feel better. You think I wasn't looking because of that? Aw Christ, Tali. I wasn't looking because I didn't want to look like a jackass."
She sniffled, sadness still clinging. "You promise?"
He faced her full-on and figured that answering her question with a tight hug would be better than giving her only a plain platitude.
So he did just that.
"Yes." He said, catching her scent when they embraced. It was delightfully intoxicating.
Despite the chilly breeze that nipped at her face, she suddenly felt unfathomably hot. The high started ebbing back. This couldn't be happening. Her dreams might have run pretty wild on the what-ifs, but feeling this didn't compare to anything her imagination had tried stringing together.
"John…?" She mumbled, "Is that true?"
"Yeah." He replied before reluctantly putting her at arm's length, "You're the best damn looking woman I've ever seen in the galaxy. I can prove it."
Kiss him.
"Prove?" She asked with a little sarcastic croak.
He tapped the side of his head.
"It's all right here. It's science. Fully endorsed. Spectre authority."
She wiped a tear away from the tops of her hands and cracked a crabby smile. "I guess I'll take what I can get. Though it would have helped had you told me that before I almost balled my eyes out, you bosh'tet." She dropped her stare to the fire and frowned. "I almost thought I'd been... friend zoned."
He stared dumbly, mind desperately trying to keep his brain taught. Did she really just go there and say that?
"I would never." He mumbled.
"Good." She paused for a moment, "Thank you."
John stared deep into the fire's flames for a long while before facing her again, sensing that this was his moment. "Why would I friendzone the only woman I want?"
Tali's heart stopped. Then it jumped. It lurched and punched her throat before leaping off to dive toward her stomach.
"...I'm not interested in anyone else. Only you." He murmured his whisper.
"Are you... admitting that you want me?"
He took a breath. "Yeah. Guess I am."
Keelah. Oh this was a good dream. Probably the best one she's ever had.
She felt like stumbling backward. "...Am I awake?"
"Yes." He said, catching the quip.
"Not dreaming?"
"Nope."
She smiled and stared distantly at her feet. "Well then. Good."
So that was it. They just admitted it. No dramatic thing where she falls into his arms after they've kicked all the bad guys to dust at the end of a movie. Not that she minded sappy things like that (She was, after all, a Fleet & Flotilla fan). But like she said, she'd take what she could get.
"Gotta ask though because it's killing me. Why'd you really take it off?"
"Well," She started with a thoughtful frown and took a breath while she gandered at the sky, "The air is so crisp. It's cold. Almost hurts."
Then she leaned in toward the fire and felt it nip her nose and eyes again. "And the fire. It's hot as hell. This definitely hurts."
"And?"
She gave him a glance and shrugged. "And... I'm not going to spend what could be the last of our days wondering about what-ifs anymore. We faced the worst the galaxy could ever offer and I'm still here. I'm not going to let my handicap get in the way of everything I want all the time."
She shrugged after. "That and I really did have an itchy nose."
When he smiled, Tali's heart fluttered. She ran a hand through her hair and decided to finally sit down. "I would live like this for the rest of my life if I could."
John sat down next to her. "Maybe someday." He said as he wrapped an arm around a knee, "Then we can retire. Get some beach front property. The whole gang. Spend our days drinking beer and getting fat."
She faced him, "We should get a giant mansion."
"How many rooms should it have?"
"At least ten. A hangar bay. An armory. A garage for all our sports cars. And all the walls and windows have to be bulletproof." She imagined with a faint smile.
A slight chuckle escaped him.
Keelah, she could hardly focus from how much she wanted to kiss this man. The moment couldn't have been any better.
"We can shoot clay pigeons in the sand or throw frisbees at Garrus when he's sunbathing." He added.
"Can't wait to retire." Her hands absently drew lines in the dirt, mind infatuated under her wish for that first kiss.
"It will be when we're all living together." He nudged her shoulder lovingly.
She nudged him back.
John leaned against the crate behind them both and glanced at her with eyes that crinkled from the grin. Fluffing up reality was a great pastime. They both knew it wasn't really going to happen. That wasn't the point. It was the sentiment that made it worth mentioning and thinking about.
"You know, I can't help but think that maybe crashing the Normandy was the best thing to happen to us." He puffed with sarcasm. Yet, it almost held a little sobriety somewhere in there.
She rolled her eyes. "And why is that, John."
"More time with you. More time to stand back and just... reflect. On life."
"Hm."
"To know that we won't be here forever. And that we have to cherish the time we have."
Tali's smile waned and she took his words to heart. Everything he said was true.
"Though I wish those guys weren't here." Shepard pointed to the slowly falling meteors.
"Yeah," She pouted sadly, "Mood killer."
You know what wouldn't be a mood killer? Kissing him.
"You know," Tali began in a segway, "I broke a lot of rules doing this," She circled her head with a finger, "Taking this off would be like sticking a hand in a blender just to see what it would do after a lifetime of being told not to." She studied her digits and pushed away the anxiety rippling through her.
"After all the rules we've broken?" John touched his sore nose lightly, a rueful smile out on display, "It doesn't surprise me you've broken some of your own. Kinda glad you did. Good initiative."
"You are an awful influence."
He dropped his head into a hang, still all smiles, and he peeped at her.
Her eyes, a steady evanescent aura in this clear night, sought his in the dim light and tried to tell him she yearned for something.
"You're so good to me, John."
"Am I?"
"Yeah."
A silence enveloped the two and it was comfortable and intimate. With nothing to say, he drew himself in closer, hand reaching around her like a band of warmth. Tali, in turn, nestled into his embrace, a hand placed across his chest. A feeling so natural to her soul that she was almost surprised by it.
"I think this means we're together now." He said with a whisper that barely rose above the crackle of their fire. His gaze, soft and tender, held hers as he gently tucked a lock of hair behind an ear.
Oh that made her heart soar. It exploded like a firework. She was dreaming. Oh, she had to be. She cloaked her shock with a veil of playful arrogance. "Is Commander Shepard asking me out?"
"Yeah," He affirmed with a lopsided grin, "I am, unequivocally, asking you out."
"Well," She bristled haughtily and squeezed herself a little closer, beaming, "It's about time."
He traced his pointer gently beneath her chin to lift that gaze up to meet his. In that careful yet assertive touch, her breath hitched and her lips part ever so slightly with an unspoken invitation, a silent plea for him to bridge that gap between them and poise the next moment with a locked kiss she'd been painfully waiting an eternity for.
But what cliche first kiss wouldn't be complete without a cliche explosion a hundred feet away?
Not the best time to interrupt a perfect moment, but the cloud of smoke, screams, and sudden gunfire, needed to be looked into.
"Put your helmet on." John ordered sternly.
She couldn't agree more.
"What was that?" Tali asked before jamming her helmet back on and tucking her realk back to where it was supposed to be.
John didn't get the time to answer.
Garrus rolled off the box he'd been sleeping on and onto the laps of both Tali and Shepard.
"Damnit, Garrus!"
"Keelah, you bosh'tet!"
They both push him off.
Garrus ignored them and grabbed for his rifle.
John reached for his squawking radio.
"Ambush, Ambush, Ambush." Stacker reported, "Hard-contact, Hard-contact."
"Shepard to Stacker, SITREP. Now." John ordered.
"Break, break—sizeable force moving, direction... south-southwest, rough guess. Unidentified—VTOL support in play. Can't pin down their gear or strength. Under heavy, sophisticated fire. We're gonna get chewed up without immediate support, repeat, need backup ASAP."
"Geth?"
"Don't think so!" Is all Stacker replied with.
But, just as John's platoon sergeant had reported, a large gunship flew overhead and it looked nothing like a geth ship.
"Oh, that is not geth." Garrus panned.
"All call-signs, all call-signs. Hold your assigned sightlines. Sweep and clean your sector. Full execute authority granted." Shepard ordered.
A chorus of ayes reported over the radio when Shepard reached for Tali's shoulder. "Douse the fire."
A jerry can beside the three of them, she hoisted it up to topple its contents to extinguish the flames. The embers sputtered and spat and she poured until only a hiss remained. She tossed the empty can aside and John, under the satisfaction they were in the safety of darkness, brought his radio to bear.
"Shepard to Williams."
"Sir. Fireteam ready for tasking."
"Task to issue: Append Wrex. Advance and flank. Chief Kala to overtake and maintain perimeter security. Get to it chief."
"Aye sir."
He called up the Mako crew next. "Jeepnie-1, task to issue. Respond to receipt."
"Send orders."
"Repel and assist our south. Search and destroy."
"Aye. Go for hunt. Wheels hot."
"Orders?" Garrus asked.
"We're going to rally up on our eastern flank. It's our weakest one."
John clipped the radio on his belt, grabbed a rifle, and stuffed a handful of thermal sinks into his coat pocket.
"Let's go."
They made it all of ten feet before they were suddenly ensnared in a volley of effective fire from some new unseen assault, sharp snaps of micro-sonic booms clapping by. Bitter flashes of tracer fire exchanged between the two sides and the three of them dove into foxholes along the scattered marines and crew staging their defense. As the marines cast out flares to ignite a swathe of land in a stark lamp-like glow, John took his quick glimpse to see brown silhouettes easily over two meters tall moving and dancing across the shadows that harrowed and shimmered.
"Where's Sergeant Gallagher?" Shepard demanded.
"Gone, commander." Specialist Mason answered, holding his sightline and casting out his laze of fire, "I'm western flank's new actual."
John swore and grasped for the turian's collar. "Garrus, you're their new actual. Stay here and keep whatever we're fighting away from here. Do not let them in the ship."
"You got it, Shepard."
"Let's go, Tali."
And with that, he left it up to his marines and Garrus to do what they did best.
"Cross the path. Move." They ran quickly and toward the trench that encircled the Normandy's nose.
And they were at it again. Running and gunning, ignorant of the odds stacked against them. But she ran anyway. How could it be any other way? John was leading and she was following. Just as it should be.
A yellow lancet of energy struck out from the blackness. Without time to warn her, he tackled her to the mud to save them from what likely could sever a man in half. His radio burned away, his rifle discarded as they dropped, but to safety they went. She hit the trench with a pained oomph and he wanted nothing more than to apologize, but he scrambled back to his gun now sulking in the grime, blood a ploppy drip from his nose on the mud and over the gun's frame as he regained a hold of it.
Perfect time for a nosebleed.
"John, come on," She said with a pained gasp, "We have to keep moving."
She holstered her pistol and crawled to a conveniently placed rifle next to her before leveling it up and firing it several times just to try and return some fire. She didn't feel compelled to stay up too long to actually aim.
John's face looked like a red waterfall. "Ah. My nose." He wiped away the blood with his shirt before perching his rifle on the trench and firing a volley.
Seeing that he was next to a box of grenades, he pried open its top and lobbed one. Then he remembered the claymores he'd set up at the front of the Normandy's nose earlier that day. He wanted to kiss his fortitude. He pointed to the controller next to her. "Tali, the detonator. Use it."
She grabbed the thing and squeezed, and the six or so claymores clapped up a shroud of dust right where the bastards were hiding.
Despite the boom and rumble, she could hear more of them as she fell back into a kneel. It had become apparent that their numbers were higher than they realized.
"New objective. We have to hold them off here or we risk getting the east and west out-flanked." John reached for a pair of lit flares and threw them over the trench.
"John, you need to stay down. You don't have any of your gear on."
"This isn't the time to be arguing."
"No, damnit. Listen to me." She tossed three grenades over the trench in succession and waited for them to explode, "I'm not going to risk the most important person on this crew and let you become a statistic. Stay the hell down and let me do the work."
She stood, took her sightlines, and engaged. In careful and discretionary bursts, her rounds would point out and she would dip back down and exchange positions to repeat the process.
John, groveling in frustration, resigned himself to cloak the field ahead of him in a blind fire, hoping he might chance a hit.
"How many, Tali?"
She ducked and saved herself from getting a beam of energy that would've gored her head.
"Fifteen or more. This isn't going to work." She scrambled back to the grenades, reached for one, and pulled its pin, "We need backup—We can't do this alone." There was an urgency in the way she chucked the last of them. More explosions chattered the ground. Dust and soot were pulled up into the air and it rained upon them.
God he needed his gear. "How close are they?"
"Pretty damned close. The closest ones are hiding behind the rock about twenty meters to my left and I—" She peered right above the trench to take some more potshots and saw chitin wings glimmer in the night sky.
Keelah. Lihda Tet'shuct'sa tha. 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒇𝒍𝒚.
And it clicked. They were fighting collectors. The stories and rumors Tali had heard, mythlike in their telling, now held form. There wasn't any time to be dwelling on the revelation, nor was there time to be sharing her discovery with him.
"—they're getting closer! John."
Shepard donned a helmet and plate carrier lying in the dirt. Not exactly the armor John was used to, but it'd have to do.
"What are they doing?"
She watched the collectors, simultaneously, walk out of cover, form a line, and suppress the two lonely defenders with automatic fire.
"They're rushing us." Desperation creeping, "Tell me you have a plan. Please tell me what to do."
She could see his foul grimace as he stared up from the trench they were in. All he did was flick his rifle to full auto to prepare for what was coming their way. There was no way they could return fire. They were way too close now. If she dared to poke a head out, there wouldn't be a head left to speak of.
She reached for her box of grenades one last time as if, by some miracle, there were more to throw. But it remained empty.
Her eyes were wide. "...John."
"We're gonna kill them. Get ready." He said, yielding himself to the approaching assault.
She tossed her rifle and pulled from her back her shotgun, its safety flicked off to howl at will.
"Get ready." He echoed again with finality.
When John saw just enough of what looked to be a head peeking over the trench, his rifle roared and carved out its sinuses from between its eyes.
Her shotgun sang out its piercing bark. Her shots split a collector's chest and it careened into the trench, legs crunching from the fall. Spitting a spent sink to swallow another, she packed her trigger again and was greeted with another punching roar to catch her second target. The same as the last, it was cavitated center mass and buckled inward, its remains sleuthing a pile over the first.
Bolt yanked back and another sink to battery. A third approached in a sprint, its weapon raised and trailing her. She screamed, unleashing a third spray of shot as she dropped to her back as it fired, nearly missing her. Just under its neck, her rounds hit home and its head ruptured. A puppet missing its master, it toppled and collapsed its souped organs at her feet.
Another sink coughed out and she racked in another. Again, in their assault, one lept into the trench on Shepard's flank, its gun alight and in a charging glow.
The realization was instant. The source of the deadly yellow beams lay squarely in its hands. She scrambled to her feet and didn't even cry out to warm him. In a tight focus, teeth bared in a fanged scowl, she clamped down on the trigger and a sweltering boom cast out. In the fractioned second that followed, she dove in front of John, her body becoming his shield.
The collector's weapon, caught and cored by a slug, still unleashed a lance of searing light that sought her out. Yet, in a stroke of luck, the energy discharged into a defeated arc and the laser gun imploded, turning half of its holder into vapor. What was left of its short discharge struck her. Her barrier warped the air and a fiery aura burst forth, tendrils of amber shining out. But it was too much. Her protective shield failed and she took what was left straight to her unguarded chest.
John's scream of anger and abject terror tore through the air from the sequence that unfolded. She stumbled back, gun shed from her grasp, and fell to the moist earth in a discarded plop, smoke trailing the impact on her chest.
Just as John was about to stage himself in an act of revenge, the Mako reared the hill and scarfed a collector down under its wheel before igniting the rest under a volley of coaxial gunfire. One by one, the turret took a sightline and executed a burst, making short work of the remaining stragglers.
"You're clear commander!" Came the driver over the Mako's loud speaker.
John didn't have the decency to thank Jeepnie-1. He dropped his gun and rushed to the quarian and fell to his knees.
He wanted to grab her shoulders and shake her awake, but his training had him open up his OT instead to get a visual of her vitals. Under a mild crown of relief, he saw they looked (kinda) okay and that the beam hadn't even penetrated the suit. From what he could assess, it was superficial.
"Oh. Oh thank god." He turned around to face the Mako's windshield and the two men inside it. He signaled to them with hand motions.
-CIRCLE PERIMETER AGAIN. FIRE AT WILL. KILL ALL.-
The driver gave him a salute. "Aye sir," He said through the speaker, "Perimeter check. Kill 'em all."
The mako pulled into reverse and made headway toward Garrus' position just shortly over the steep ridge.
He pulled in close next to Tali's still frame, her chest still taking in shallow breaths and decided that he try to get her inside. Then he tore his stare up toward the dark dawn of the morning sky to the sound of locust-like wings coming from above and toward him.
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She stood upon a shore. A lone figure. An ink blot in flatness.
It was desolation.
The sands were not whiter than pearls. Its skies were not bluer than the eye of a human.
It was a canvas of bleak, a sprawl under a dome of morose clouds, morbid and obese. Sands, pasty rocks and ashen grains, stretched to eternity. Fog, thick and unyielding, veiling the horizon in a ghostly embrace.
A world of pallor.
The world of Rannoch.
In a breath, the beach was gone, and a plain under the shroud of night took hold, where its blades of grass tower and its hills stretched in the darkness. The air, a biting chill, clasped her skin in an icy grip. So exposed to the elements, she covered her nakedness where she could with arms and shivered. Snow crowned her hair. Shoulders blanketed white. Toes burrowed in the frostbitten earth.
The world worked to conspire again, the grass stretching into a walled chamber, a window fracturing her cell, its single pane through which moon light gazed, its silver beam cast upon a bed and its promise of safety. She yielded to its embrace to hide her frailty. To hide the bare. But, in a pitched shadow, a figure emerged. A quarian. His visage obscured yet unmistakably present, eyes alight and levitating in the inky black.
"Tali." His voice was a cascade of haunting echoes and it resonated a sound so achingly familiar.
"John?" She trembled, eyes wide and sheets twisted against her chest.
A smile, enigmatic and fleeting, danced across his lips and he receded into the void, a trail of silence following.
"Wait." She reached out, the chasm between them yawning. She abandoned the bed and lept. From the abyss below, arms caught her and she found peace, a smile gracing her lips.
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John was not in a good position.
He fired his rifle, rather clumsily he might add, at the four giving chase while he had Tali in a firemen's carry.
He hated to admit it, but carrying her was providing him with a kinetic barrier strong enough for him to run between his choices of cover without getting a new hole for his lungs to breathe out of.
"Tali, wake up. Wake up, Tali. Come on."
As he passed through another stack of boxes, he ran by a squawking radio with Ash on the other side reporting that the collectors were making a tactical withdrawal.
Be as it may, John wasn't too keen on working with assumptions. Especially when he was still on the receiving end of a steady volley of fire. John fired back and ran again. He needed to make his way to the Normandy's cargo bay, hide Tali somewhere safe, and get back to the fight.
A bullet zipped right through his gun and destroyed it. He dropped the useless thing and kept running.
Oh. Not good. His chances were starting to look bleak again. Until Wrex dropped down from the Normandy's roof and mauled the four collectors chasing the commander like a bear would a seared steak.
He planted a kick toward victim one and sent it barreling back to a rock, its head smacking back with a splat of blood. He clutched victim 2's neck and slammed it down, guillotining its head with nothing but the force of his arm. Victim three became the subject of his claymore shotgun and its torso teleported to another dimension. Victim 4 was squeezed into a ball by thought alone, Wrex's ethereal biotic glow shining bright. What dropped looked much like a bundle of sopping clothes straight from a washer. It was a mess when the krogan was done.
Fortunately, John didn't have the heart, or the chance, to see it.
"You're in the clear, Shepard!" Wrex bellowed, turning the corner with his stoic grin. Seeing that he really was absent of his pursuers and that the sounds of combat had ceased, he stepped out into the clearing and finally felt himself catch a damn breath.
Wrex frowned at the blood that blotted John's nose and mouth. "Damn. Your head looks like a hen's used tampon."
"Aren't you supposed to be with Ash?" He spat, setting Tali carefully down on the ground. He gave her vitals another once over, his worry growing with every second that passed.
This wasn't good. She still wasn't conscious. He needed to get her infirm, like, now.
"Couldn't flank. They pressed the whole perimeter. When we cleaned up our front, Ash had be go around here to find you since you stopped talking on the radio. Here I am."
Wrex stood over him and Tali, and the grin waned. "What happened?"
"She saved my life. Took a laser to the chest to do it."
"Is she okay?"
"Vitals are clean. Suit held. I don't know why she isn't waking up."
"Well. Looks like she took it pretty good." He nodded, "It's the krogan in her."
"Wrex."
"Shepard."
John glared at him and hoisted her back up to make his way to the cargo bay. Wrex followed.
"Wrex, you find the Commander?"
"He's with me, Ash." Wrex called out over his unit as they stepped up to Normandy's closed hatch, "And Tali's been hit."
There was a sizable pause over the radio. Shepard was banging on the doors to get whoever was on the other side to open up.
"How bad?" Ash finally said.
"She'll be okay." Wrex said.
"Copy. We'll keep you posted if anything happens. Out."
"Open up!" John hollered, fist-banging out another repertoire.
"It's... it's not powering up commander!" He could hear faintly from the other side.
"Get it working."
"Aye sir!"
He immediately turned on his heel to make his way back up and around Normandy's nose, a pained and angry grimace on his face. "Tali, please. Please wake up."
Wrex leered at his own craftsmanship out on display and imparted John with a low snarl when he caught back up to him. "They're collectors."
"I know." John said after a moment of steady walking.
"Maybe they've got something to do with that." Wrex gestured at the falling meteors.
John eyed the sight with a disconcerting stare. Wrex was probably right. It didn't need to be an astute observation for it to be a good one.
A mental sigh and he sent it all wayward. He didn't have the bandwidth to be thinking about collectors right now. A pounding pulse and a mind racing a thousand thoughts, he took his measured steps up the sloped trench, her arms and legs swaying from his careful gait, and prayed to a god he didn't believe in.