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2-3-2184
[ EXODUS CLUSTER ]
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Amid the dim glow of her omni-tool's interface, Tali combed through her library of all the apps and files she owned. She had a lot. Hundreds at this point.
Manuscripts and manuals. Exploded diagrams and dimension sheets. Below it her IES calculator and thrust vector plotter. Even lower still, her relay flight mapper and internal atmospheric analyzer. Or the more rarely used radio frequency modulator.
She scrolled.
Her operational security handbook, environmental regulations compendium, and subspace emission matrice.
On and on she scrolled through the digital wasteland, no longer even pausing to read what flew over the screen. None of this stuff would do her any good anymore.
One by one, she dragged and dropped them into the bin. When the last of them finally disappeared from her shrinking grid, she breathed a sigh and played with the weight of her omni-tool as if she'd made it lighter.
John would've laughed at that and it made her brood and glower. She skimmed through the files next.
Videos? Not worth going through right now.
Pictures? Nope. No need to be touching those.
There were thousands of downloads though. Documents and hyperspecific adapters and drivers. En masse, they were dropped into the trash receptacle without a second glance. Not until she reached the string of text messages between her and the crew. Her second digit hovered pensively over the patiently waiting delete button and wearily decided they were worth keeping. Holding them as a keepsake to remember all the people she'd lost.
John among them. She didn't have the courage to go there, to view her texts with him. Most of it barely broached personal conversation, but they were still valuable. Even if she couldn't bear the idea of ever reading them.
She archived them instead. Stuffed them into an unlabeled folder and didn't bother naming it anything.
A child, one that couldn't have even reached six yet, stared at her from his seat, elbows on the armrest they had to share together.
"Hi." He said shyly.
Spring cleaning momentarily forgotten, she looked up and faced him. "...Hello."
"What are you?"
Her bracelet withered away and she gave him her full attention, nose scrunching because she didn't quite understand the question. "Pardon?"
"Are you an alien?"
"I suppose I am." She said with a small smile.
"What kind?"
"Well, your kind call me quarian."
"You look kinda like me."
"Well, thank you." She said, unknowing of what else to say.
"Why do you wear a mask?"
"Germs. I don't like them." She answered, small smile still there. For a moment, she felt a little lighter conversing with a youngling like him. His hair was long and blonde, and his eyes green. His mother, who shared many of the same attributes as him, kept her focus on the magazine in front of her but smiled from the sidelines since her son was trying to engage in pleasantries.
"Oh. Did you pick the color?"
"I did, yes. It's my favorite color. What's your favorite color?"
"Purple."
"Then I guess you and I both like the same color."
"My name's Jon. Spelled J-O-N."
She swallowed at the coincidence. "It's nice to meet you, Jon." She extended out a hand for him to shake and he took it. "My name's Tali."
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Backpack shouldered, she fell in line with all the other passengers and disembarked into an aerobridge that would take them to port.
Unfortunately, her connecting flight would require that she exit this terminal and take a tram that would have her going through security all over again. She clung onto some false hope for an uneventful passage, yet the frequency at which she was selected at random was far more than what coincidence should've ever allowed. Past encounters were painting her a bleak picture. Bag turned inside out. Omni-tool confiscated. And then a delightful interlude of detention to follow while some sleuth, pulling down a whopping 30k a year, put her through their ritual of inconvenience.
The perks of tailing a Spectre everywhere you went was one she would miss.
She exited the aerobridge and into Noveria's spaceport.
She might've been on a different part of the planet, far removed from Port Hanshan she'd visited eight months ago, but the architecture wasn't any different. Concrete floors, walls, and ceilings. A building more akin to a fortress than anything else. It was a practical application given the planet's climate. But it never looked all that inviting for the souls that visited. Nor for the ones that inhabited this place.
The credits must've been plentiful if one were to ever decide to live here electively.
She also just hated Noveria. Everywhere she looked, the cold impersonal surfaces reminded her of that haunted facility marred by the consequences of subverting science. She hated what had happened here. The suffering that had transpired was a kind that could not be explained through words alone. Peak 15 was and would always be her crucible of horror. She always understood atrocity. Probably understood it more than most. She wasn't blind to its effect no matter how visceral it could be. But witnessing the raw brutality and the suffering was something she could hardly describe. Words could not grade the scale of the violating nature of the rachni and what they did to their victims. Cruelty as people knew it was just some word. The rachni tortured their victims with the same sacrosanct as a psychotic child would a pet. It was all play and pleasure. They derived joy from what they inflicted.
The hellscape that was Peak 15 had left an indelible mark on her. Everything about it. The sickness that festered there and her reaction to it all. And the way she'd struggled to make sense of it in the aftermath. It was a mess of regret and disgrace.
Reflecting deeper, it almost seemed paradoxical. One might readily assume that enduring their plight on Ullipses would dwarf all else. But it didn't. The colllectors, for all their mystery, were clearly driven by some type of discernible goal, however obscured it was. The Rachni of Peak 15 had no higher meaning. Without a song to guide them, their purpose was only to serve mindless violence. That's what made them more terrifying to her. Perhaps in time, that would change. Who knew.
So caught in the reverie of her self-reflecting, Tali realized she'd been wandering without direction. Returning to reality, she looked up and searched for signs to get her to where she needed to go.
Tram. To the left.
Okay.
She took that left. She took the tram. Exited to terminal 9 to Aether Lines. Back to the ticket counter. Ticket in hand. Then to security to present ID. When that wasn't enough for the officer, she procured her passport next. They let her through.
Approaching the second officer, she made it through to the third and fourth as they began their theater of security. Bag on the conveyor, it disappeared into their machine and blarred.
Nice.
Randomly selected.
With an inward sigh, she waited for the inevitable, a salarian already readying himself with gloves to likely dump all her shit over a table.
"This your bag, ma'am?" He asked her because procedure told him to.
"Yes. I promise you I don't have much." She rasped.
He blinked his beady eyes and narrowed them. "Excuse me?"
"Sorry," She mollified, hoping not to betray any chance of getting off scot-free. "Please. Perform your search."
She was holding up the line now.
"Ma'am, please step aside to keep traffic flowing." The salarian requested.
"—ehm, Sorry," She stepped aside, "I—" Her voice died when a tall turian, face painted blue much like Garrus' facial tattoo's, stood out to greet her while travelers from behind did their best to weasel by. One of them Jon, waving to her, expression worried and confused.
She only glanced at the little boy with his mother and sighed. She knew this'd be the last time she would see him. So she waved a little wave despite this unfolding situation and did her best to not just break down then and there.
"This isn't a search, ma'am," The turian said plainly, "My name is Detective Maridus. This is a detainment. You're being detained."
"...What? I—"
"Follow me."
"Wait, " She stammered, "Why? Why am I being detained?"
He stood there for a moment, his face an unreadable stone. "We have strong suspicions that you are forging your identity. Please. Follow me."
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For thirty minutes she sat in this room and waited. The last ten of them with Detective Maridus skimming through this mountain of work in front of him on the cold table.
Tali peered at his fattened folder with a daft look on her face. What the hell were those for? What could he possibly be looking at? Why paper? Why an entire reem of it?
Were they documents meant to trap her in some kind of lie? Photos to compare her figure? A profile of her last visit over half a year ago with John?
"Tali'Zorah nar Rayya." The turian finally said aloud as he set his hands down.
"Yes?" She answered his empty call.
"Our technicians are doing another deep sweep of your ID and passport now. Before they find something, I need to know, now, who you are." He said flatly.
Tali's frown fell. What came next was bewilderment.
"Go on." He said with the sway of his hand, "I want to know why you thought it prudent to pass through our doors in the manner that you did."
She couldn't do anything but blink to try and process one passing moment from the next. "I— really don't understand. How am I supposed to even answer that?"
His visage held. "You're the Tali'Zorah."
"Yes."
He leaned in. "The."
She leaned in as well, though her ear pointed at him slighty, eyes holding their stare and narrowing. "Yes."
He drew up an arm and gave her an open palm, elbow on the table to signal his break in understanding. "...Why would she be booking passage on a common passenger airship? Why would she be here by herself and not aboard the Normandy? Odd, no?"
"I—I don't understand." Tali uttered again in an agonizing sigh, "I'm going home. I'm... returning from pilgrimage."
If he heard her, he made no indication that he did. "Why are you alone? Why are you hopping on civilian liners like any other passenger? No security detail or the expected fanfare. Status comes with protocol for Coalition and Alliance operators."
She stood up slowly and grasped both ends of the table which had the turian reflexively place a hand on his tazer.
This was why she was delayed? Because it looked odd? That going home was weird?
She was done with the games and the bullshit. Even if it would get her nowhere closer to leaving this room, her voice came out like a blade to stab someone with. The council's non-disclosure could go to hell.
"There is no status. There is no protocol. Detective Maridus, I have shocking news for you. The Normandy is gone. John Shepard is dead."
His eyebrows lit up in surprise, then slowly fell back into a furrow. "Those are... extraordinary claims."
Her voice broke as she pointed at herself with both hands. "Give me my omni-tool and I'll show you. I have nothing to hide, you tak'tal prat'ya."
"...Ma'am," The turian breathed after a quiet moment, "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."
She reeled herself in slightly at calling him a useless cunt.
"Omni-tool or not," He continued, "That won't prove your identity."
She threw her hands up in the air in a mockery of this investigation. "So what will? You think my ID is forged. You think my passport is fake. What. will."
He held his hard stare against her long enough for her to take the hint and sit back down, hands and legs crossed.
He held his glare for a moment longer and, satisfied she was going to stay put, went back to his papers. She stared and waited. Hate melting her. She looked to the mirrored window beside them as if she could see who was standing behind it.
"Peak 15."
Maridus looked up. "Ma'am?"
"Peak 15." She repeated again, even louder, eyes welded to the reflective glass, "This isn't a threat. This is a warning. If I'm not let out of here inside five minutes, you'll either have to kill me or watch what I tell the first journalist I see about what happened there."
Her mentioning what had been a guarded secret seemed to catch the immediate attention of anyone standing behind the two-way mirror. Because the com bead in the turian's ear warbled and he focused in on it.
Soon enough, the whispering speaker stopped. Detective Maridus sighed, closed the folder gently, and rose.
"Ma'am. I'm sorry. This was a giant misunderstanding."
She just stared up at him, surprised at how well that managed to work. He strode to the door to open it and paused at the threshold before looking back with the door ajar.
"Your belongings will be returned to you shortly. We thought a person of your renown resorting to such a common means of travel back to the Flotilla struck us as incredibly odd. It raised suspicions that perhaps someone was masquerading under your identity. Initial checks showed Normandy still recording active service and was scheduled for additional operational tasking. Additional verification from ICDS clarified the discrepancy with us just now. I'm sorry to say that your outburst and threat was coincidental."
He idly toyed with the folder's weight and released a weary sigh. "Words for context, Tali'Zorah, though you're likely well aware. Those with ties to Spectres, even tangentially, enjoy certain... indirect privileges. Impersonating one is a foolhardy endeavor and it rarely happens. But many believe that claiming an association to one instead is somehow more palatable to skirt authorities and the rule of law. We had our doubts and were mistaken. Our apologies."
Silence between the man and her.
"...If it is true that the first human spectre has passed on, then you have my condolences."
And with that, he left as quietly as possible, leaving her alone.
Time slowed to a crawl, its elongated march consuming her soul until she wept in silent surrender. Indifferent to the gaze of anyone beyond the window, she broke down, her intrusive and arthritic shadow descending to devour her with its embrace.
It would end her someday if given the chance. There was no escaping it. No light to reach out to. No hope to chase after.
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[ SERPENT NEBULA | CITADEL | KITHOI WARD ]
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An aircar sailed through Kithoi's airways and banked comfortably in a serene arc amidst the ward's monolithic skyscrapers to head further inland. A slow and graceful pan of the cityscape convened and brought forth a view of the political nexus of the presidium and its zenith, the council chamber, that spanned upward in a thin column toward the center of the Citdael's ringed foundation.
Within its hold, Liara sat, her features etched with a blank mask as they passed through the ornamented and variegated thoroughfares. They weaved across the latticed sinew of connecting bridges, all while the tiny shadow of their taxi fleeted over the grandeur.
Taralos Amphitheater spanned their view as they skimmed overhead, its tall walls and domed architecture gleaming under the light of the nebula. The Malicus Docks that flanked Kithoi Point brought in and sent out its choreographed display of commerce and transport, their shadows blotting the cityscape below in billowy pillars.
She glanced, for no particular reason, to see what Garrus was doing. There he sat, hands interlocked neatly between his legs as he gazed up at the panorama of the wards opposite of them.
"Can you name them all?" She asked quietly.
"Hm?"
"The wards." She said, the thrum of the traffic a soft symphony of whines and hums, "Can you name them."
"Yes. Of course." Garrus answered simply. He didn't part his stare from the sight.
A flicker of a small smile surfaced and she returned to the idled sightseeing. More views for her gaze. To their left, the Larathos institution. Further out, Kithoi's Actal Substation and Edroki Plaza.
"Can you name them?" He decided to ask her.
"I don't remember them all." She answered honestly, eyes anchored to the citied vista.
The aircar began its slow descent and decelerated. Straight ahead, their destination grew closer: the Per'ana Terminal. Its name originating from some esteemed quarian centuries ago.
From their height, she gandered at the walkways below. The life underneath drew closer and she could begin to pick out the details of the denizens. Convoys of elcor and salarians negotiating their way around them. Humans gathered in their circles with turians conversing and working. Asari mingled and interposed through the space. Volus merchants selling and trading. Hanar and krogan mucking about. Drell and the occasional quarian in the busy fray. Even a batarian or two could be seen frolicking.
A melting pot of the galaxy's races. A working symbol of unity and cooperation. Liara took in the view and was happy to know that, even in the blanket of her woes, that life carried on.
They fell under the dominating shadow of a ward's curving arm and the microcosm darkened. Their view overhead grew darker still as the glass canopy that stretched over them brought an imposing view of the Systems Alliance Carrier, the SSV Hawking.
Then the view was relinquished entirely to the arteries of the Citadel. Blackness subsumed, and the cabin was dark, their descent now altogether vertical to make their final approach.
"ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴇᴅ - 𝑨𝑻 - 𝘗𝘦𝘳'𝘢𝘯𝘢 𝘛𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭."
Out they came from the ceiling to the commons and their respective parking space. They could already see her there standing with an Alliance duffel at her feet waiting for them.
The doors crack open with a hiss and they both stepped out to greet her.
"Ash."
"Hey guys." She said weakly. She drew Liara in for a hug and then Garrus.
"What time do you leave?"
"Twenty minutes." Ash said, looking behind her to the crowds and the Alliance servicemen that packed the terminal.
Garrus reached for her duffel and shouldered it.
"That's enough time for some coffee." He said with a meek smile.
"Now that sounds like a good idea."
They found their way to the nearest café, ordered their beverages, and settled into a cozy arrangement of seats and sofas that encircled a coffee table.
The turian decided to speak up first, holding his cup close to his face, "What happens to you now?"
"Back to Earth. More debriefing. More counseling."
"You're joking me." Liara grimaced. They'd already been foisted against two months of that. What could they hope to gain from even more?
"No, I'm not. Not looking forward to it. After, more leave. I'm going to be grounded for a while longer. Plenty of paperwork is going to follow me. Then I'll be put on reassignment. New ship. New unit."
She stared off to the commotion. "New crew."
"How much waiting?"
She chuckled, though it was absent of anything merry. "That's most of my job. Waiting. It's the navy way."
She sighed and finally just gave it a straight answer. "I don't know."
The brunette stared at the contents of her cup through the little hole in her lid. "What about you? Liara?"
"I'm—" There was a faintness in the voice, "I'm not sure."
"Back to archeology maybe?"
"Perhaps." Liara felt bleakness and didn't feel all that impassioned by that prospect anymore. The repears dulled that kind of compulsion to do anything extracurricular. Wasting time brushing off prothean remains and artifacts while what loomed over the galaxy seemed... foolish.
"Garrus?" Ash asked next.
"I don't know either."
"C-sec?"
"No. Not a chance in hell."
She grinned. "Good answer."
The three of them all sipped at the same time from their cups.
"...Guys, I don't think I'll be able to contact you once I leave. Not for a long while. Tell Tali, if she ever does reply, that I'm going to miss her."
"We will."
She frowned slightly and looked like she was caught in some distant self-reflection. Again, her gaze fell to the cup cradled in her hands, the steam caught in a careful study.
"I'm gonna miss you guys too."
"This is just goodbye for now, Ash. I know someday we'll see each other again." Garrus said quietly.
Ashley found herself ruminating and reflecting, mind drifting back to the early days. Initially, her feelings toward Garrus—and indeed, all of Shepard's misfits—might have been misconstrued as prejudice. Yet, that wasn't really the best way to describe it. The Normandy, despite its collaborative spirit, was thoroughly Alliance at heart. The eclectic composition of Shepard's team had struck her as unconventional and at odds with their success when one could draw comparisons to what a well-oiled squad of N-level operators could do in their place. Their direction and leadership had no match. Shepard was proof of that.
Yet, after it all, she was thankful it hand't gone that way. The path not taken, the one populated by a team of humanity's finest, now seemed a narrow, unenlightened course. The diversity and strength of character she'd been a part of because of Shepard's atypical command structure had irrevocably changed her. Missing out on the camaraderie, their challenges, and the growth brought by these individuals would have been a profound loss.
Regrettably, not all her farewells could be spoken. Wrex had departed with a simple gesture, boarding a pre-owned vessel without fanfare. Tali, too, was absent, and left everyone with a void where a proper goodbye should've been. A pang of grief in Ash's heart swelled knowing she'd never likely never see that woman again. In some way though, Williams understood that dwelling on what couldn't be changed served little purpose. She figured Tali felt that the most out of all of them, given her more... personal relationship with the Commander.
She'd have to make do with what she had here in front of her instead.
"I know I wasn't kind to you for the first few months that we got to know each other, Garrus. I never apologized for that. So, before I go, I want to tell you I'm sorry."
"It's a bridge built over water."
"It's water under the bridge, Garrus." She corrected.
"Hm."
"Wherever life takes you... just take care of yourselves." Ash intoned with a peaceful resolve, "Please be safe."
"We will."
"Put your coffee down. I need to hug you guys one last time before I head out."
They did just that and Ashley stood up to give them each one last squeeze.
When she hugged Garrus, she hugged him even tighter than Liara. "You're bony. You know that?"
"I forgot to put lotion on this morning."
She laughed and felt a tear well in an eye as she stepped back.
"I love you guys. I'm going to keep you in my prayers."
Garrus reached for her duffel and draped it over her head so she could carry it.
A chime was announced through the PA. "Attention. Attention. Final boarding call for all designated military personnel—"
"—That's my call, guys." Ash murmured, looking at the two of them expectantly.
"—iform Code 2250-Dress is in effect. Transport to commence in T-minus 20 mikes. This is the final sortie to SSV Hawking—"
"Goodbye, Ash." He raised a hand and squeezed her shoulder, "Until next time."
Liara touched a hand with hers in a final parting gesture. The human took some careful steps back, eyes still locked on the two before finally turning around. They watched her leave and disappear into the uniformed crowd of alliance servicemen beginning their embarkation to the carrier, listening quietly to the PA, their eyes fixed on the blue sea of foot traffic.
"—ns are at bay control. Failure to report will result in AWOL status. Coordinate with your unit's CPO for accountability and final manifest confirmation. Transit corridor Charlie is now restricted to military traffic only. I repeat, final boarding call to SSV Hawking is commencing."
A chime played, signaling the end of the announcement. "𝘗𝘦𝘳'𝘈𝘯𝘢 𝑻𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍 ᴛʜᴀɴᴋs ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴇʀᴠɪᴄᴇ."
"Goddess, this is so hard to see." Liara finally crumbled and felt herself whimper and close her eyes. "I can't stand this any longer."
"I know, Liara." Garrus said quietly, drawing up a hand to hold her shoulder, "Come on. Let's head back."
She sniffled and drowned the sorrows for only a little while longer. "...Okay."
They both turn around to see business cards on each of their cups.
Neither of them said anything as they reached down to study the little things. Its front was an embossed gradient. From left to right, a satin black that transformed to orange, then white.
Garrus turned it over.
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⁵ ⁵⁶⁵⁴⁵⁴-⁵⁶⁵⁸⁵⁶⁴
ＪＯＨＮ １１:４４
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The turian looked up and around for anyone who might've deposited these. But saw no one.
He locked his eyes on Liara. "...Did you see—?"
"—No." Knowing already what he was asking, eyes back on the card as if to gather another clue, "What do you think it means?"
Garrus was about to drop them right into the trash, but had a hunch these weren't mere cards poorly advertising some obfuscated business. "A phone number and John's name next to some more numbers. Don't know."
"I don't think that's a date. Or that it's referencing Shepard." Liara whispered, sitting down and gawking at it.
"Actually." Garrus narrowed his stare, thinking briefly of Ash, "I think I might just know."
Shortly, on the screen on his omni-tool, he found his answer.ㅤ ㅤ
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ㅤ ㅤ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴀs ᴅᴇᴀᴅ ᴄᴀᴍᴇ ꜰᴏʀᴛʜ.
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She dreamed of soaring toward a dying star. A red giant at the twilight of its celestial dance, unfurling its gaseous arms to the vast and black expanse.
Around it, spirals of light skirted the edge of an inky circle, a black hole where existence and light dared not tread.
The star's light waned, its heart quieting. Before the quarian, the aged sun whispered its swan song and ignited into its final show of defiance.
It collapsed into a supernova.
She watched with hardly a flinch. Bore witness to its rite of death as had many before it.
No spectacle could match the weight of the burden she carried. Blacker than any void. Stronger than any stellar pull.
In this tragic tableau, she too joined the star's fate. Ensnared by its gravity, her spirit thrashed into an elliptical path from its howling call to darkness.
She screamed. Not from the pain. But from an unyielding inferno that raged within.
Her eyes opened slowly and she had to remember where she was again.
Ah, right.
She was inside some trashed-up corvette surrounded by trashy people on her second to last ride home to Hamshee station.
Her eyes stung, so she closed them and rest herself back on the headrest with fluff coming out the back.
"Ms. Tali?" Jon said. She looked down to see the same kid on her last flight sitting next to her. She blinked and furrowed her brows.
"Uhm... Jon. I..."
"Are you okay? It looked like you were having a bad dream." The five-year-old whispered, concern drawn all over his face.
She looked to the other passengers beside and behind her. Then she cast her eyes to his sleeping mother before landing them back on the boy. "I... I was. Did I—? Did I make noise?"
"No." He shook his head, his blonde hair ruffling around from a haircut that was long past overdue, "You were just saying things really quiet. Whispering." He said sadly, eyes worried for her, "It's okay. It was just a nightmare. It's not real, Ms. Tali."
She forgot to breathe and finally sucked in a quiet breath. "Yeah." she said to calm the boy before sinking further into her seat and closing her eyes. "Just a little nightmare. I'm okay."
"Tali?"
She faced him and blood drained from her.
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ𝑰𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝑱𝒐𝒉𝒏 𝒊𝒏 𝒃𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔.
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ𝑩𝒐𝒅𝒚 𝒃𝒐𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒐𝒓.
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ𝑺𝒌𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒆, 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒆𝒅, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒛𝒆𝒏.
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ𝑭𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒔.
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ𝑬𝒚𝒆𝒔 ᴏᴘᴇɴ 𝒂𝒏𝒅 ʟɪꜰᴇʟᴇss 𝒂𝒏𝒅 ɢᴀᴘɪɴɢ.
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She woke. Eyes snapping violently open, though she did not move a millimeter from the table she'd been sleeping on. A chilled sweat dripped from her brow. Her heart thrummed. As she pulled herself up from folded arms, the gentle noise of the ship's cabin began to return, with it, the phased buzz of an incessant beep from her omni-tool that she'd left on the armrest at the cockpit.
She rose from her seat and retrieved the device before slipping it on and turning it off. Back was the silence and the nominal hush of the cabin.
She was ten minutes out from finally reaching the Migrant Fleet. She could see them now sprawled across the windshield. A cloudlike aggregation of tens of thousands of ships. From this distance, the faint and comforting pulse of navigation lights twinkled rhythmically in the black.
Her rental ship was a respite from the packed spaceliner crowds. When she'd finally arrived at Hamshee station, she felt a little relieved knowing that the last of her traveling would be without the company of strangers.
She kept staring. Mind drawing up the nightmarish jumpscare against her will. Her heart dragged on the floor and she wanted nothing more than to crumple her hallucinations like a ball of paper to toss in the trash.
"User," The VI spoke to her through the ship's PA, "…Hailing frequencies have been intercepted. IFF is active; we are being targeted."
Lazily, she flipped a single switch to accept and open the transmission.
"Unidentified vessel, you are entering Migrant Fleet airspace. Maintain your current heading. Do not deviate."
"Copy control." She answered. There was a long and static-filled pause.
"Foreign vessel, state your purpose and content for approach. Issue receipt to call."
"This is Tali'Zorah nar Rayya; Requesting permission to dock with the MFS Rayya. I return from pilgrimage." Tali said calmly.
Another long pause on the traffic controller's end. No doubt the guy was getting his electronic list of passphrases for quarian pilgrims ready.
"...Please verify."
She pulled from memory the phrase that would grant her passage. She held her breath for a moment and eventually closed her eyes to recite it aloud, frown from her recent nightmare never leaving. "After time adrift among open stars, along tides of light and through shoals of dust…" She paused with sadness, "…I will return to where I began."
"Welcome home, Tali'Zorah nar Rayya. Please follow the directed flight path to docking bay 32. Do not deviate, or you will be subject to enforcement action."
Funny coincidence that she get assigned the very cradle she'd used to begin her pilgrimage.
"Thank you. I'd like a security and quarantine team to meet me, the ship is not clean."
"Understood. Teams will be dispatched upon your arrival."
And like that, she was within the Flotilla's influence. She leveled her stare back through the windshield, eyes as heavy as they've always been, and waited.
Her ship took the assigned flight path, and from one minute to the next, the flotilla grew and grew until she began to weave through the slowly marching army of ships of every size and of every type made by every race in the galaxy.
She stared lethargically at the sight through her window. Eventually, the ball that was the Rayya appeared, and, like landing on a tiny moon, its wide arc gradually became a horizon, her shape filling the space until the woman was facing only carapaced walls of gray. Cradle 32 wiggled out from its clasps and reached out to get a hold of her rental ship. She could hear it latch on with a whirring thud of metal and composites.
She powered down her engines, hand still grasping the pilot's headrest, and reached for her backpack to meet home. A small ladder to take, she took it down to the airlock and keyed the door to let herself through.
It opened in a slow whoosh and was met by a party of only two.
A single guard dressed in a plate carrier was the first thing she saw. Behind him was the sanitation janitor with a tank strapped to his back and a jet mister in hand.
"Hello, Tali." The soldier greeted candidly, relaxing slightly.
"Hi Jaeger."
"Feels like you've hardly been gone." He lowered his rifle from his readied position, "How you doing, kiddo?"
"I'm okay." She lied.
"Welp," Jaeger stepped aside to let the janitor do his thing, "Alrighty Veyle. You can head on in."
"Hey Veyle." She gave him a meek smile.
"Hello Tali." The old man greeted as he sloshed his way by her to begin his spray down.
"Where's Mima?" Tali asked Jaeger.
"She almost missed your text," Jaeger pointed behind him with his head, "But she's already waiting for you. Come on. Follow me."
She stepped aboard. One year and six months and she was back exactly from where she came. It was all as she remembered it. Insofar, her home hadn't changed the entire time she was gone.
As they walked, she saw the same tiny dripping leak just next to door number six to biomass inductor one. The same bucket catching its drops.
They kept walking. The pipe above temperance duct number eight that traveled down the hall still rattled from two missing U-bolts. And it still looked like the little gray-blue tarps covering doors two, eight, and nine for biomass examiner two and three were still there. She sighed and took it all in.
"Still the same as you left her, Tali'Zorah." A man by the name of Dohn'Sai said, passing by her and waving.
"Disappointing, Dohn." Tali called out with a forced smile, "I told you to fix the leak on door number six before I left."
"The replacement part's been back ordered for a year." He said before waving her off and turning down a hallway, "Nice to see you again, my dear. It's good to have you back."
"Yeah." She muttered lamely under her breath. The forced smile fell back from where it came. They turned the corner together and there she was, waiting.
"Tali!" Mima'Agwahdal vas'onsvaa'nar Rayya (yes, you heard that right) spread her arms out as wide as she could as soon as she saw her take that bend with Jaeger, "Oh my, oh my, oh my. It is so good to see you!"
"Mima," Tali said, picking up the smile she just dropped, "I missed you."
They hugged and Mima shooed off Jaeger to which he obliged.
"See you around, Tali."
Tali waved to him with a side eye from the hug she was still in. "Bye Jaeger."
Tali had known Mima'Agwahdal for about as long as she could remember. Their friendship was about the only constant in the flux of their lives aboard the liveship they called home. Five years older than her, Mima's departure for pilgrimage had also come much earlier and, coincidentally, had left the Rayya only a few months before Tali's mother had passed; leaving her to wallow alone and grieve without anyone to lean on. Two years Mima had been gone.
When she came back, she pledged both herself and her gift back to the Rayya—where she knew her skills would be needed most— despite the consequence of making her name sound weird and the stigma that would follow. Her expertise however extended out to all the liveships and she'd become a nomad among nomads—jumping between them wherever she was needed most. Thankfully, in a stroke of luck, she was currently posted on the Rayya, which granted her the opportunity to meet Tali on her return.
She was also the last of four of Tali's friends. By duty and obligation, facets catalyzed by pilgrimage, her friends went their separate ways. Only Mima remained in Tali's shifting and shrinking world.
But Tali knew, inevitably, that even this relationship would soon draw to a soft close. If not the distance that would separate them, then the swollen gulf of sorrow she'd been left with. Her ghosts cast shadows that not even Mima's presence could fully penetrate, she knew.
The women separated and Mima held her out as she gave her arms a tender squeeze. "Keelah, my little Nar'lel! It is so good to see you safe and sound."
Tali stuffed her thoughts away elsewhere and tried to focus on the now.
"How has the Rayya been since I've been gone?"
"Exactly the way you left it."
"That's good."
"Well, come on now. Let's get you comfortable." Mima parted Tali from her backpack and shouldered it.
"Where's dad?" Tali asked.
"Mm. Not sure where your daddy is." She said with a shrug as they walked deeper into the Rayya's belly, "I'm not even sure he's on the ship, to be honest."
"Oh."
Ever the one to never let an awkward moment simmer, Mima gave Tali a squinty grin. "You must have so many stories to tell. You know how often I saw you on the news?"
"Not too often I hope."
"Enough to make the boys look." She jabbed. The old Tali would have blushed. All that did now was make her want to sneer and disappear.
"Funny." She croaked.
"So what's it gonna be?"
"For what?"
"Your new ship?"
Tali had barely mused that in the two days it took traveling home.
It used to be one of Tali's favorite pastimes in her younger years. She remembered her time spent in her personal and hidden nook deep inside the Rayya not far from where they were now, head buried in her tablet whenever free time allowed it.
My, she was a dreamer then. Her imagination leaping from one ship to the next and meticulously cataloging their details. She remembered the thrill of comparing drive cores. Their armaments. The allure of its design. The qualities of the crew and their respective captain or the fleet it sat under.
On and on the variables went. The list of potential choices was nearly a thousand bullet points long with the listed rejects ten times larger. Pages and pages of matrices and notes and essays to contextualize her future choice.
Now they held no value. Her pilgrimage had distilled her choice down to a single ship. One that hadn't even belonged to the Migrant Fleet. Had John been alive, she wouldn't be here now. She'd have emailed her gift and never looked back. Would've scrubbed her name to Tali'Zorah vas Normandy. She would doubt the fleet would recognize it—Father himself would likely strip her of the Rayya entirely and 'Tali'Zorah vas Nedas nar Tasi' would be the title forevermore within the digital halls of the Flotilla's census database.
And she wouldn't have cared.
However, the Normandy no longer existed. So the what-ifs would forever remain as they were. A fantasy. Instead, in a reality she didn't want to impart in, she picked a ship where she believed she could do the most good possible.
The Neema.
It was an obvious choice. A ship under Admiral Gerrel's direct supervision. And, as a friend of her father's, would allow her the biggest pull to do whatever she wanted without sitting too close to her father's shadow.
She wondered how the captain of the Neema felt about their position. Wondered if his job was more or less a formality given how regularly they were plucked around doing what the Heavy Fleet routinely did under Gerrel's short leash of custody.
"The Neema." She answered finally.
"Really?" Mima looked surprised but instantly pulled back, realizing that maybe she shouldn't be surprised. "Ah, actually, that makes sense."
They took the closest of eight lifts down to the fourth of sixteen living decks; the one they both lived on.
"How long do you plan on staying?" Mima asked, her shadow stark over the amber light above them.
"Truthfully, Mima...?" Tali panned slowly in an exhausted sigh, a line of light streaking by her with every floor they lowered past, "I think I'm just gonna spend the rest of the day here and just go to sleep. And worry about things tomorrow."
"Hey, you don't need to convince me. I felt the same way coming back from pilgrimage."
"Thanks."
They arrived at their respective living deck to the lively commotion, the lift's doors shuttering open.
"Ah, damn thing's gonna need some more lube soon." Mima muttered.
Tali took her first step and felt her shelved habits fall back in place. One foot in front of the other, it almost felt like she could walk these halls without the help of her eyes. They took their first left. "What did you bring back?"
"Data. Thirteen terabytes straight out of an uncompromised geth computer."
Mima, in a flabbergasted wave, put her hand on a forehead. "That sounds like the Tali I'd know."
"Thanks."
"I can't imagine what it must feel like to uphold a reputation as high as a Zorah. Everyone expects an admiral's child to bring nothing less but Rannoch itself."
"Heh." Tali did her best to give her a snort.
Another left. Then a right. Then another left. Then another right. One hallway the same as the last. A neatly dilapidated arrangement of stacked shacks and homes, the spaces in the middle littered with shelves and tables and chairs. All of them full of people carrying on with their lives. Before long they stood at the precipice of her family's room. Nothing about it suggested it belonged to an admiral and his family. At the apex of leadership or not, they all came back to roost in the same way as everyone else.
Mima pulled the curtain aside for Tali and set the bag down next to the desk where its top was adorned with an organized stack of ancient books belonging to her father. Tali flicked on the light and it sizzled on.
"I've got to get back to work." Mima said a little disappointingly before bringing her hands together, "Would you like me to get you something to eat later?"
"Yes. Please. I'm down to my last op-aid."
"Sweet or savory?"
"Sweet." Tali murmured quietly. Mima gave the woman another hug.
"Okay."
"Thanks, Mima."
"Of course, my Nar'lel." She clicked her tongue and did her best to soothe her, "Aw you poor thing. I can tell you're so tired. Sleep well."
"I will."
Mima stepped out and waved her goodbye while dressing the room with privacy.
Alone. At last. Like a velcro patch, Tali peeled away the smile and threw it behind her. She took in the feeble space around her.
Just as she remembered. Nothing different. The same as it had always been since mom died. The same desk and books. The same thin and worn locker of what few possessions they owned and kept. A minute number of taped pictures her mother had adorned the walls with. One of them a drawing she'd made when she was four. She graced the space with a slow waltz in one place to absorb it all. A paltry year and six months. But it felt as if she'd abandoned this place for a decade.
Eventually, her stare fell to the floor, eyes truly drenched with exhaustion. She stood there for a number of moments before deciding, on a whim, to look at one last thing.
Getting on her knees to take a look at what was beneath the bed, she put a hand atop the sheet to support herself and peeked below the raised mattress. Underneath, a bin of her mother's belongings.
She slid it out from its space, its bottom rasping against the metal grates that made the floor. She removed the top and set it aside.
She rose a tired brow. Unlike everything else in this room, this was the first thing that was different. It looked as if it had been tousled or recently touched. This was not how she had remembered it last. Atop the knick-knacks and a single brown gown her mother had made in a sewing phase, was a photo that used to rest at the very bottom of the box. A simple paper picture of her mom, dad, and herself as a mere child that hadn't even reached double digits yet.
It was the only picture they had where all their faces could be seen. Though her father's features in the photo had been weathered by time and what looked like a droplet or spill.
Another sigh left her. She wished she could've added more to this box. But that feeling soon lilted and she realized that was only a shortlived wish. She drew to memory the picture book she'd made on the Normandy. Of that slowly growing collage of all their adventures and travels. She remembered showing it to John in her room, both of them drunk and happy. Tragically, she lost that album during the Normandy's crash.
She sat there, picture still in hand, still sitting on her knees, and felt her lips twist faintly under the tumult of feelings she wished wholeheartedly would just go away, if only for a moment.
She quickly drew up a sharp breath and let the picture float back to the top of the box before sliding it all back underneath and raising herself up enough to sit on the bed.
Her hands clutched the metal frame beneath her and she clenched her fists tightly enough to make it hurt, to steer herself away from having another titanic episode.
She held her breath. Long enough that she felt her vision swim. Then she let it go in a gasp to let her body fall back to normalcy. With one last stare toward the curtain, she decided that she finally try and let sleep claim her.
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The Neema, even if it housed hundreds of regular lives within its hold, was still a warship. Of turian origin, she was originally, at her inception, framed as a tenth generation Alargus class destroyer, its size dancing on the cusp of being a cruiser. She retained all her original armaments with upgraded point defense weapons from none other than one of humanity's leading corporate monopolies: GD's XVI generation, close-in weapon system procured from some well-known combat solutions broker residing in Bekenstein's commerce sector.
She was happy to see them there. That, for as much of an aging warship Gerrel was, that he was still looking out for maintaining the might of 'Heavy Fleet heat'.
She saw what those things could do. She recognized those same guns during the battle of the Citadel on every Alliance vessel bigger than a frigate.
The ship taxiing her to the Neema lacked windows, so she was reduced to having to enjoy the view through a screen.
For as much of war pig the Neema was, she was still a sanctuary for innovation and study. Or, at least, held that potential for innovation and study. A dedicated science and engineering lab lay nestled somewhere within. Gerrel had disclosed however that its space had been committed to endeavors far removed from its original charter. Only a handful of people used it now, to Tali's benefit. Thankfully, she wouldn't have to share much. When she pushed for details, Gerrel only shrugged and told her she was going to have to find out for herself.
His tone had her under the impression that whatever was happening within its walls wasn't important enough to bother mentioning.
Like a magnifying glass, the view of the Neema grew and stretched until only armor plating could be seen. The cradle captured the taxi and those few aboard were already standing to disembark.
A quiet woosh, and the line of people, including her, filed in and were aboard the Neema.
Nothing about it was any different than the interior of the Rayya. Aside from the way the walls were designed, it was all the same. Hallways that became closets. Ceilings repurposed to racks. Shelves and boxes and crates. And the people. Crowded as it was everywhere else.
Tali glanced about, alone, and figured she go to the bridge and bother the captain to make it known what her intentions were. Then she realized she hadn't a clue where to even go. She stopped as soon as she started and looked around and felt...
Incredibly lonely. A quiet and silent figure caught in the commotion. She was surrounded by swathes of people. It wouldn't have mattered if there a billion or none. It stilled her heart. She missed them all. She missed Garrus and Wrex. Marcus and Liara. Ash. Her eyes withered. She missed Kaidan. She missed John most of all.
"You need help?"
Tali drew her eyes up to see a woman that'd been leaned up against a bulkhead. She clearly looked like a soldier. She wore a gray uniform, its fabric a ripstop, her hood that doubled as a type of shemaugh.
"Uhm. Yes." She nodded, glancing around at the people working and walking. "The bridge. I need to see the captain."
"Alright." The woman shrugged and turned off her omni-tool, "I can take you there."
"Are you sure? You're not too busy, are you?"
"Nah."
"Oh."
She started walking and Tali followed. "Name's Kylie."
"Hello Kylie. I'm Tali."
"What're you here for?"
"To join the crew."
"Oh. Back from pilgrimage, huh?"
"Yes."
"You look kinda familiar. I've known other Tali's before, but you're not one of them."
"Zorah. Tali'Zorah.
"Ah. That's how I know you." Kylie said as they took the hallway down.
"Please tell me there are no other Tali's aboard." Tali asked.
"As far as I know, no." Kylie answered with a snort before giving her another once over as they kept walking, "Wow. The famous Tali'Zorah. I'm not as famous as a Zorah. Heck, I'm not famous at all. Just a lil' ol pleb."
Tali's hands began to fidget. She didn't know how to segway herself out of a good retort.
"Sorry. Am I talking too much? Not making a great first impression am I?" Kylie babbled.
"It's okay." Tali murmured.
"I hope you like it here. I like to think we're a pretty relaxed bunch. At least off duty. Gerrel and the captain do run the ship pretty tight though."
They took a bend and reached a ladder.
"Up we go."
"Ladders?" Tali asked.
"Lift's broke." She shrugged, "Broke before I was born. All three of them."
"Oh."
They began to climb.
"So what do you do?" She asked Kylie.
"Automatic rifleman." Kylie answered plainly, "Gerrel's Special Tasks Unit. Second detachment."
"What's that like?"
"Can be pretty touch and go, sometimes."
They reached the floor they needed to be on. When Tali stepped off the ladder to the safety of the corridor, Kylie rose her hand to point and leaned into it slightly. "Just down there. Straight ahead."
"Thanks, Kylie."
"Guess I'll see you around." Kylie nodded before returning to the ladder. She gave her a casual salute and began climbing back down.
She mustered the strength to cross the remaining distance to the bridge alone.
When she passed into its hold, the clutter of life outside was left behind. it was clean and functional and bore the efficiency of its turian design.
She felt herself as an intruder, crossing this space. The captain of the Neema, a woman in uniform much like Kylie's with subtle nuances, stood with her back facing the returning pilgrim, watching quietly the forward screen.
Tali was not expecting the captain to be a woman. She wasn't really sure why her preconceptions led her there either.
"Captain?" Tali said gently to get her attention.
The captain's head pivoted only slightly to see who'd called for her. The sight of the purple one standing behind her prompted a fuller engagement.
"Yes?" She said as both an invitation and inquiry.
"My name is Tali'Zorah nar Rayya. I come from pilgrimage. I humbly ask that I be allowed to present my gift to you and your crew so that way I may join it."
Captain Vaela was actually a little beside herself but made no intention of showing it. She only knew of Rael's progeny on the periphery of Gerrel's relationship with Rael, but it had never crossed her mind that the young woman in front of her now would be seeking to become a part of the Neema.
Hell, she barely thought about any of that at all. Though, in quick retrospect, she supposed that her chances were pretty good given the circles she was in.
"Hello Tali'Zorah. I'm Captain Vaela'Raven vas Neema nar Hedonna. And what honor does your gift bestow?"
"Data. Functional databanks wrested and secured from the geth."
The declaration rippled through the bridge and drew the attention of many of its inhabitants.
"That is... quite the gift, Tali'Zorah. May I ask how much?"
"Thirteen terabytes."
In the two hundred eighty nine years since their eviction from the Far Rim, never had she heard of such a feat. Never, in the woes of their slowly dying kind, had matched the profoundity of what this pilgrim had just bestowed.
Captain Vaela was aware enough of Tali's adventures beyond the confines of the Migrant Fleet to know that Tali had fought to defend the heart of galactic governance. Had shown the galaxy at large the spirit of the quarian people. Represented to them all that, even in their exile, had retained their sense of duty to the galactic whole. That they still held onto their identity and their resilience as a race.
That alone would have been enough. Yet, Tali returned with more. Had returned with an immediate and tangible treasure. Its bestowal was not to a single ship or its captain, but to the legacy of their entire kind. This gift, or rather, this beacon, could potentiate and unlock paths that could alter their collective fate as a people.
Faced with such a thing, Captain Vaela wrestled immediately the feelings of unworthiness. She wanted to refuse outright because of how disrespectful it felt to accept and steward such a pivotal offering. It made her want to shrink away from the mantle this pilgrim had come bearing. This day, which began like any other, had become a watershed moment for quarian history.
If it was all true. But she had no doubt the daughter of Admiral Zorah wasn't going to do anything but overdeliver.
"Tali'Zorah," Her voice deeply reverent and full of humility, "I accept humbly, your gift."
Tali, with two hands, a gesture steeped in tradition, held the little drive aloft and rose it up for her captain to take.
Mirroring Tali, Vaela accepted with all the respect and care her gift demanded.
"Welcome, my child. Welcome, Tali'Zorah vas Neema."
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ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴏᴘᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ-ᴄɪᴛᴀᴅᴇʟ ᴅᴇꜰᴇɴsᴇ sᴜʙᴄᴏᴍᴍɪᴛᴛᴇᴇ (ɪᴄᴅs)
ᴏᴠᴇʀᴠɪᴇᴡ
The Interoperational-Citadel Defense Subcommittee (ICDS) is an organization within the Citadel Coalition, designed to enhance and ensure joint interoperability among the militaries of all Citadel races. Formed in the wake of rising threats to galactic peace and security, the ICDS serves as a strategic think tank and operational hub, focusing on the coordination of defense strategies, military exercises, and the development of unified protocols for emergency responses.
ᴍɪssɪᴏɴ
The primary mission of the ICDS is to promote interoperability and cooperation among the military forces of the Citadel races. This includes the sharing of intelligence, joint military training exercises, standardization of technology and equipment, and the development of common operational doctrines. The ICDS aims to create a unified and robust defense framework capable of countering any threat to the Citadel Coalition with efficiency and decisive action.
ꜰᴜɴᴄᴛɪᴏɴs
Strategic Planning and Coordination: The ICDS is responsible for developing overarching defense strategies that incorporate the capabilities and strengths of all member races.
Joint Exercises and Training: To foster unity and improve interoperability, the ICDS organizes regular joint military exercises across various environments and scenarios.
Technology Standardization: The committee oversees the standardization of military technology and facilitates the sharing of advancements to ensure that all member forces are equipped with compatible and effective tools.
Crisis Response: The ICDS develops and implements unified protocols for rapid response to galactic crises, ensuring a coordinated effort from all Coalition members.
Intelligence Sharing: A secure network for the exchange of intelligence information among member races is maintained by the ICDS, enhancing situational awareness and strategic planning.