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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, he 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.