The End of Dawn

by Narcrotic

John Shepard is gone. The Normandy destroyed. Her pilgrimage, a journey of self-discovery, hope, and love, comes to an end. Left to wander back to her origins, she finds her home now estranged, haunted by a specter of what was and could've been. It is the end of dawn, but amidst the echoes, heralds light on the horizon. The sequel to The Fall of Normandy. Mature content.

9. SHIFT

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

ZERO SHIFT

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

---

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

Rael awakened to the sound of the Rayya's subdued ambience of the living deck.

Eyes toward the ceiling, his lonely and gradual reconnection with the world was almost somber.

Carefully, slowly, he swept the sheet aside and swung his feet to the floor, elbows set over his knees and head bowed to drain away the slumber of what was, yet again, another dreamless night.

Every morning the same as the last. It'd been this way for years. A monochrome. His nightly yield to sleep left him abandoned to an ocean devoid of dreams.

Only emptiness. Only blackness.

This happenstance was not merely a coincidence. He used to dream. Quite vividly in fact. Vividness the likes of which you couldn't imagine.

He could still remember the last of them.

It was of her. His wife. Eshara.

A drape fell over his eyes as he remembered it.

A dark room swathed in a pitched shadow. A sanctuary where she held their newborn, a smile hardly there across her lips. Eyes a candled glow and hair far too long for the mask she hated to wear.

He stood, though languidly, reality reluctantly returning.

Sleep since had remained a ritualistic purgatory. He'd been severed from one of life's basic gifts since her death.

He took all of two steps to his desk and sat down, ignoring, like he had for years, everything that adorned the walls in this cubby he called home.

Blankness in his posture and eyes, he didn't move as he tried to root himself back to his bearings.

At long last, a messy staccato of blinks to peel away the cobwebs of an old dream that refused to separate from him. He took in a measured breath, reached for the laptop stowed in a bag beside him, and set it down with a quiet thud.

Display adjusted, a dim glow breathed to life, its soft light reflecting off his face of glass.

A quick check of the time had him seeing that, as per his usual, his internal clock had preempted his physical one. It was always the same time too. Ten minutes before it was due to ring.

He could hardly remember the sound it would even make.

He logged in and got to work.

The macro-calendar was first.

A quick peek at the forecasted projection the fleet would be following over the next two weeks. A presiding itinerary of all the resource rich planets they'd been pilfering and the dozen or so scouting missions into lesser-known nebulae.

Micro-calendar.

Meetings. More meetings. Followed by… meetings. The usual.

Timetables for projects, both personal and jointed, were reviewed after.

A list of force deployments. Fleet posture. Weapon system research. Or the more domestic—agricultural, educational, and health-focused initiatives.

Addressed and updated, his cabinets' reports came into view.

The one that took priority over the other four, however, was his most recent assemblage of what he believed to be his finest.

Jointed with Daro'Xen, some of the brightest individuals of the Migrant Fleet were working to disseminate Tali's gift to them all.

After ensuring all correspondence was reviewed and responded to, Rael stood and closed his laptop to dress his bed.

Drawing the sheets taught, his foot brushed briefly against something underneath and it made him pause, hands stilling on the old and rumpled comforter.

Odd.

He didn't remember setting it that close since his last peek. He recalled it being recessed further back.

Cautiously, after a moment's hesitation, he knelt down to get a gander of it.

Lately, Rael had found himself straying, of his own volition, his established routine. Quite frequently in fact. More so than usual. He couldn't pinpoint exactly why his patterns were unraveling as often as they were, but something within him had him deviating. Had awoken even. Carefully, tepidly, he reached out and grasped its small linked handle. He slid it toward him, the slight scrape against the floor echoing softly in the room. Under his eyes and light, he removed its top to peer inside once more.

A quiet repository of his past life. Their life. His family's.

Or what was left of it.

Atop the assorted trinkets, clothes, and keepsakes was a picture of them all. A moment captured. One of unguarded joy before fate had fractured it.

Tali must've been here because this was not how he'd left it.

The thought of her handling this silent chronicle of their past brought about an emotion he couldn't fully grasp. It pulled at him. Frayed his composure.

But Rael's face remained dead and unreadable. Only a slight twitch of an eye as he stared on at the paper photo resting delicately where it lay—its surface blemished by a blot that obscured what was supposed to be his naked face.

He knew why it was there. A motley blotch of ink from a single tear. One of his own.

On his last and recent round to a cleanroom, he'd taken this bin of old memories and had perused through the items.

What had compelled him to do something like that, he couldn't say. There was no answer he could immediately draw from.

Maybe it was to remember what he was doing this all for. For Tali. For his dead wife.

Whatever the reason, he wanted to feel Eshara's clothes free of gloves. To see without glass to separate him. To hold what was dear to her. To him, even.

Face still in an empty visage, he did not touch anything inside, relenting to replace its cover before sliding it all back to the recess of darkness. Seconds passed, but he didn't stand, his expression degrading into a furrowed glare.

In his senseless reflection, he thought about Tali. About how different she was when she'd returned from pilgrimage.

No longer that gentle child he remembered her to be. She was something much different now. Something damaged. Hurt. Traumatized.

He knew this because Shala told him so.

Rael could hardly grapple with that. On how to handle that information. Completely unsure even on how to interpret it. At least in a way that would be productive or helpful for either of them.

Eyes fixed resolutely at the dark pit underneath his bed, he still had not moved.

Then a small pang hit him. A tender ache. It cradled his heart, however small or transparent it seemed to the world on the outside, it did exist and it did hurt.

Part of Rael yearned to reach out to his daughter, to bridge the rift between them. Yet, the greater part of him restrained that impulse. That urge to act. To amend himself of what he could never be.

Stepping into her life now? He'd barely been there for the entirety of it. Committing to anything other than the path followed would only welcome pain.

It was all too little, too late. If not for the lack of his trying, then his responsibility as an admiral.

This life couldn't afford him the opportunity—the chance of being there for her even if he tried.

So, he did it the only way he knew how. To fight for what was the most important person in the world to him: by burying himself in his work to give her a future worth having.

He stood now, but his stare remained.

He lingered within the silent weight of his inner world, but a chime from his omni-tool drew him away from the solemn reverie. Rael's hands flexed, sound anchoring him back to reality.

He accepted the call.

"Rael."

"Shala."

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to convene earlier than anticipated."

A sigh. "That is going to make my day difficult."

"I'm sorry. An unexpected matter is forcing me to reschedule."

"Politicking with some of the conclave, is it?" Came an educated guess.

"Mm." Shala's delightfully sarcastic grumble was palpable.

Rael knew all too well what that was like and didn't push the issue.

"When do you need me?"

"How soon can you get here?"

Rael shouldered his bag and drew the curtains to his room aside. "Right now."

"Excellent."

He stared back, eyes back toward that space beneath the bed. "At the Alarei, I'm assuming."

"Yes."

A careful exhale. "Very well. Anything else?"

"No."

"See you soon." He ended the call and stepped out, curtain drawn behind him.

He began his trek toward his personal shuttle, omni-tool still alit to order his accompanying pilot to begin a departure.

Then he made a call to his assistant, Keenlah'Goh vas Rayya nar Moro.

…

…

"Sir."

"Keenlah," He entered the lift and pressed for the appropriate floor, "I'm departing." He stared up at the long tunnel above him as he ascended.

"A reschedule?"

"Yes."

"Meet you there. Anything else?"

"No."

As he ended the call, he received one immediately after. A quick peek and his brows rose slightly.

"Novah," Rael greeted to his cabinet's newest leading administrator, "You have something for me?"

"Yes. A development. Something important. Is your timetable still set for our fourth shift session?"

"No. Make it earlier. Second shift."

"That's excellent news, Admiral. We'll divulge our findings to you then."

"Do you have time to summarize some of it?"

"Yes," Came a bated breath, "A discovery. One we believe that may necessitate an operation into geth space."

Rael's eyes narrowed. "For?"

"Evolution cycles the geth are patterned to follow. Core system architectures developed by the PROGs three centuries back. The data we've found appears ablated, but it's there. Origin points. Locations. Algorithms and architectures—they start here. We find a second data set and we can start building a real adaptive model."

"What makes you so sure the geth are still following this design?"

"Initial analysis revealed a lot. 4:1 operational parameters. Hop'Lin systems. All focused, ostensibly, within their base nuclei. The registrations match. The PROG pattern is one they still follow."

"How does this lead you to a mission in geth space?"

"Earmarking. Tracked right down to the city and planet the Gormeh Republic had designed this on. Sir. This is it. We find data there, we'll be leaps and bounds closer to building your infiltration model. Sir, I've always been pretty reserved about this effort; but this…—it might actually work."

The elevator arrived and Rael stepped out.

"I'll be there shortly. Admiral Raan and I have matters to discuss first, however. Have your findings ready after. I want your entire team there."

"Understood, admiral."

Rael ended the call and reviewed a text he just received from his pilot.

- sᴘᴏᴏʟᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅʏ. ᴀᴡᴀɪᴛɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴀʟ, ᴀᴅᴍɪʀᴀʟ. -

The hallway cleared for him as he passed by his fellow Rayyans with Keenlah already there waiting for him.

"Sir."

"Are you ready?" Rael asked as he walked by. She quickly fell in line next to him to match his pace.

"Yes."

"Open up my fifth shift to those scheduled for my first and second. Ask if Gerrel can meet at fourth. Tell him it's important."

"I can do Gerrel just fine. But those in first and second… cut their times?" Keenlah asked, already reviewing his schedule, "They won't be happy."

"They should be happy they get to see me at all." Rael didn't hide his lack of care, "It's either that or they can wait for another two weeks."

"Very well. Sending the update."

"Who was I supposed to meet?"

"Conclave Minister Pax'Intwa and his pact cabinet."

"You mean the king and his concubines." Rael said sourly, recalling vaguely his team of what only compromised of women.

She tossed him a stare that he didn't see. "Uhm—"

"You don't need to comment. Who else?"

"Captain Aura'Lontah. A matter involving a dispute of the Rayya's food distribution."

"Why is this matter being sent to me? Food sorties is a staff managed matter."

"Corrective matter." She offered diplomatically, "This has been elevated to the top. She's made this appointment four months ago."

"That is below the dignity of my concern."

"Sir. I'm going to protest. Her clan spans dozens of ships. The pull she has is enough to rile constituents and get the conclave involved. What can be resolved inside a shift would instead take weeks of your involvement during congress."

Ah. Damn.

Rael said nothing for a moment but they continued to walk, passerby hugging the wall enough for him and his assistant to maintain their momentum.

"Very well." He wanted to grumble again much like Shala had earlier, "Then I believe I've spent the only capital I can adjusting the time, haven't I?"

"Yes."

They finally reached Rael's shuttle with the pilot awaiting them.

He snapped to and gave the admiral a salute. "Sir. Ready on your go."

"No time to waste, Vana. Please. Get me to the Alarei."

"Safely." Vana finished before climbing aboard.

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

---

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

FIRST SHIFT

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

---

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

Unsurprisingly, Shala was already there before him. He knew so because he saw her shuttle already docked with the Alarei on his approach.

When the airlock allowed them entry, he was met with a guard and Shala beside him waiting patiently for their arrival.

"Rael." Shala greeted curtly before glancing at Keenlah, "Hello, Keenlah."

"Hello, admiral."

"It's been a few months, Shala. How are you?" Rael said, "Busy?"

She heard mirth in his tone and her eyes went a little flat at the question. Hearing him like that was a strange sound. That's not what she wanted to be hearing right now with everything she had planned to say to him.

"Interesting," She ventured plainly, "Platitudes? From you?"

They both began to walk together with Keenlah, again, in tow.

"It wasn't one." Rael was nonplussed, "It was a legitimate question."

Shala wanted to give him an acidic laugh. She bled sarcasm instead.

"Busy planning tea parties and finding turians to date on the extranet. What do you think?"

"That your priorities need aligning."

There still wasn't a hint of any backhanded irony in his tone, but it was definitely there.

They reached one of four of the Alarei's conference rooms and paused at its breadth.

"Keenlah, please wait for us so we can speak privately." Shala requested politely as to not try to make it sound like an order. But it was. Rael gave Keenlah a nod of assent and she whirled around and walked away.

"And like that, Rael without his little shadow." Shala murmured, gesturing for Rael to enter first.

He didn't bother with the remark and approached the table centered in the room before waving his hand over the sensor that would bring to life a lattice of azure light that suddenly contoured them in a deep shadow.

Projections of star systems spiraled upward and a link of dots pulsed to represent the route the fleet would be making and the stops they'd have to make along the way.

"Rael, stop." Shala said instantly, hands cupped over her hips, eyes never fully reaching his. Not because she was nervous, but because they were lost in concentration. "Put that away."

Rael gave her a stare that she still had yet to return. "What do you mean. Our meeting is about group tasking."

"It's not. I made up the reason. I don't need your help with that." Her tone told him enough to know whatever she had planned had nothing to do with work.

Rael's face turned dark.

"What is this about, then."

"It's about Tali."

Rael's head churned those words and he felt…

Anger.

Disbelief even.

"Why didn't you just tell me instead of lie."

"Because then you wouldn't have given me the time of day to talk to you in person."

"You're right." He scolded, "Because that could be a conversation over the phone."

"No," Shala said with a pause, "This matter doesn't deserve to be relegated to a wire. You would have dismissed this concern -entirely- otherwise."

He sent his stare wayward through the glass partition. He caught many of them staring through the transparent separator and they all shot their heads back down to their terminals.

He wondered if they could hear them at all.

"You belittle me, Shala." He said, eyes still leveled toward those outside despite the glare she was stabbing him with, "That is… unacceptable."

She caught his words and tossed them behind her.

"When was the last time you even saw her?"

That felt like a punch. "You know the answer to that."

"So it's been months then."

He didn't say anything.

But that was his answer and it made her heart boil. How could he be so blind? So detached? Was it because he was oblivious? Or was it because he was uncaring?

Uncaring was heartless. Being oblivious made him a fool. She'd made her choice about which of the two he was.

"Listen to me, you stupid man," She took another daring step toward him, hand stretched out into a point, "I told you already what's happened to Tali. And you've seen her all of once. She was nearly killed! If not from the battle on the Citadel, then that planet her Captain and crew died on. A year and a half of fighting! What do you think that did to her?"

"…She appeared levelheaded."

"Did you bother asking? Did you ever consider, perhaps, that she was hiding it from you?"

More silence. It was all the invitation she needed to continue what was now a diatribe.

"She told me enough to know your exchange with her that day wasn't pleasant." Shala said with a lambasted frown.

"Did she not tell you why I told her what I did?"

She tossed her hands up in the air. "What. Tell me, Rael. Enlighten me."

"She nearly squandered that gift. The chance of a lifetime. Had it fall to the careful thinking of a human."

Shala's shoulders nearly fell off her. Callous it was then. "Are you… joking me? Do you know how much of a bastard you sound like right now?"

"That matters." Rael fought.

"Rael!" She shouted after a loud and disbelieving scoff, "Who cares! It's in our hands. That's what matters."

"Ta—"

"—No, —"

"—Shal—"

"—No!" Shala shouted even louder, "I have watched this for too long. Far, far too long for you to continue this. You don't even know who your daughter is."

She fanned out a hand as if she were pointing straight at his child, "Did you know that she found love out there, Rael? He was killed. She watched that man and half her crew get sucked out into the void and die."

Rael felt his head swim. This was information he hadn't heard yet. That painted him a portrait of something painful. Something that couldn't be ignored.

"…You never told me this." He managed through a brittle mutter.

"How could I? Tell me how it could've been shared without it becoming a corrective action toward her?"

He never imagined his little girl falling in love like that. Much less falling in love at all. And with an alien! It was… so hard to imagine her in any way other than the image he'd assembled.

…Keelah.

"…Who."

"Who do you think, Rael. Use your brain for something other than duty for once."

"…The turian."

"Hell, Rael. No. Did you make that decision because he was the closest chirality as us? Because the turian's dextro? It's the commander. The human commander. Her captain of the Normandy."

"The spectre."

"Yes. Him."

Shala wanted to see him wilt. But he didn't. She knew it wasn't from pride. It was just in his bones to be that stalwart.

"She never— she didn't…" His words fumbled and he realized that anything he was going to say to question his talk with Tali could be easily explained by how he would've reacted.

He set two hands down against the table, still standing, staring ahead toward the blank projection screen in front of him.

He suddenly wondered how pathetic it was that he had to find out about this through Shala, again, and not from his own daughter.

A pang kicked him again in the chest and he felt his stomach swing into his throat.

Beside him was one of five of the most powerful quarians alive.

One of five tasked with coordinating fleets and deciding where all fifty thousand ships would fly and with whom.

Yet.

Whereas he hid behind an excuse of being an admiral, she still made time to see Tali.

"What would you have me do, Shala." He said finally, realization settling that Tali really had no recourse to impart such personal matters, "That I just change? To be something I'm not?"

He tried after she'd returned from pilgrimage. He really tried. But, like a pet inside a glass box, it wasn't something he could easily escape. To pierce. Or break.

Her reaction to him was guarded and reserved. Cold even. And then, when she'd admitted something that had nearly cost them the chance of redeeming an entire race? It had struck a chord of sheer frustration in him when she should've known better. He'd taught her better.

"What is that supposed to mean?" She chastised.

He ignored what he interpreted to be a rhetorical question.

"What good would that do?" He clarified.

First it was her shoulders that wanted to pop off, but now it was her jaw.

"Rael. Keelah, you neglectful—" Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment as she tried to process the spittle coming out of him, "it would sure as hell beat being whatever you are now."

There it was again. That pang in the chest.

He didn't show it, but her words felt like they could kill him. He felt himself pull and drop the proverbial knife she'd just stabbed him with. While it oozed emotional blood, he stared angrily at her.

"Do not accuse me of being neglectful, Shala." He growled and his voice rose, hand up like a dagger to point against his offender, "I do all of this for HER. For us ALL."

"That's not what she wants. She never asked for any of this. She just wants you. Her dad. Your little Sen'yah just needs you." She sucked in a breath, but let it out carefully, an arm wrapped around her chest while the other palmed the glass over her face, "Your toil, Rael… it does not fulfill her like you think it does."

A flame burnt out by gust of wind, Rael's wrath was suddenly swept away. Awash in an unfamiliar sea. A foggy anguish.

"…I—" Struggling for something to fix onto, Rael's eyes only widened as his voice simmered into a decrepit whisper. "…Shala, I…"

Shala only watched now, eyes tracing the lines of something that could only be a strain of grief etched across his face. One that was, ideally, personal and profound. Anger now a backdrop, she was left feeling pity for the man in front of her. Pity for him and pity for a daughter that operated much like an orphan.

"Eshara's death was hard." Shala continued as a segway to what she believed was the catalyst for all of this, "It was hard for all of us. But that—…it's just not an excuse anymore. You need to change. You need to make a better effort. It doesn't need to be perfect like you think it needs to be. But this will never change until you take that step. Do you understand?"

"I tried."

"Then you need to try harder."

Rael's lips remained sealed and his eyes fell to the table's surface.

Shala finally relented and leveled both her tone and temper, "I'll leave it at that. Promise me you'll make an effort, Rael."

He looked back up, but said nothing.

"Say it." Shala beckoned.

Rael's expression hardened and it nearly lacked compassion. He still said nothing.

Charged silence between them. Not a single word spoken for a few moments that seemed to stretch out longer than it needed. The woman finally dipped her head in disappointment before making her exit, leaving Rael alone in the hopes he would wallow afterward.

And wallow he did.

As the door sealed behind her, it left him enveloped in silence and Rael felt the weight of their conversation press down. Still frozen, gaze lost to the dim glow of a dormant holo, his mind refused to settle.

A conflict borne between a hardened admiral and a distant father emerged.

Destitution seized him. With piercing clarity, when he sought desperately what should've been cherished memories, there were none to be found. Only echoes of missed moments and milestones unseen.

Heart sweltering under a flame like wax to its wick, he realized the gap between his commitment to duty and the love he had for Tali had stretched so far apart that you could hardly pair the two together.

He felt Eshara hover over his shadow, her absence a mirror reflecting his failings with their only child.

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

---

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

SECOND SHIFT

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

---

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

Ten minutes. It was all he could spare in quiet solitude to collect himself after Shala left. Time ending sooner than he wanted, his cabinet of six filed into the room and took their seats to begin deconstructing everything that lead them to today.

"Sir. Good morning. Thank you for taking the time to see us." Novah said.

"Please," Rael gave the sway of his hand while Keenlah took her rightful spot next to him, "tell me what you've found."

The room darkened and the holo projecting in the center of the table took the fore of everyone's view.

Novah spared not a single second before beginning his presentation.

Rael stared at the projections, but still found himself struggling to engage.

Hands beneath his chin and elbows set to make himself a plinth, his ears were listening to what he said, but the words could hardly penetrate the wall his thoughts had erected.

A frown underneath that unreadable mask, he could only muse and think about how Tali held something unseen.

A trauma the likes he could easily imagine.

Much like him.

Was she doomed to repeat a cycle not to dissimilar to his own? One where, down the line, she'd enrich herself to duty at the exclusion of all else? One where she was far removed from those she cared about?

She certainly had the aptitude for it. Grass didn't spread far from their roots. And Tali wasn't that far from him. He could easily draw the parallels off her personality alone. At least… the personality he knew.

The only difference, he supposed, was her not being bound by the obligation of rearing a child without a parent.

Regardless of what the extenuating hypotheticals were, Tali remained at his front and center. She was a constant and pressing marauder of his attention and it turned himself completely inward.

His eyes would continue to fix onto whoever was speaking. A honed skill of his, one he was clinging to like a lifeline in their company, had him piecing together and filtering through anything significant without having to fully engage in their dialogue.

From what he could gather, the data uncovered was important. Pivotal.

It pointed them toward a planet named Primerah.

A world, once under the governance of the People's Republic of Gormeh, held secrets buried in its soil—secrets that now called to them. Ones that promised answers. Maybe even their first real step toward redemption.

It was an important discovery. But Rael's reaction and responses were perfunctory and automatic.

Their words were not all that different from the motes of dust that floated by. One moment into the next, his quiet war between a heart fighting for his broken family and an admiral fighting for a broken people, raged.

It was all he did. Slave endlessly for the restitution of an entire people. His people. Her people.

Rael's half-hour's-long-frown grew twice its size.

Damn it all.

He'd meant it when he'd said it. He did this all for her. It wasn't just about duty, his onus to the Migrant Fleet. Those were merely components. Peripherals.

No, this mantle was a burden he'd claimed the day he'd held little Tali in his arms. A future he'd throttle at the neck and threaten if it meant he could give his daughter a life worth living.

He was going to build her that home on Rannoch. Nothing had changed about that. And only then would he be a fulfilled man.

But then that voice. A backhanded one. A raspy countenance rooting Rael to place and reminding him, with an assiduous abandonment of their present for a chance at the future, his sacrifice had also brought palpable failure. So focused on giving her a life worth living, he forgot to be there for it entirely.

"𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴."He heard Shala's echo run in a loop, "𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘥."

He felt his hands tremble, so he locked them together tightly to mask the tremor.

He didn't know what he was. A father so dedicated to his daughter, or hardly a father at all.

He flattened his lip between his teeth and realized this didn't have to be a dichotomy.

He was both.

"—Sir?" A voice reached him and he looked up sharply from the table, eyes snapping into focus. He realized he wasn't paying attention. Six sets of expectant eyes stared and he gave them all a furtive glance.

It seemed his skillful facade had finally failed him.

"…How soon can we move on Primerah?" Novah added again to give Rael the exit he needed.

"…Tomorrow—" Rael breathed, rushing to escape the spotlight, "I'll work to assemble members from Gerrel's STU and build an operation order." He faced his assistant standing behind him. "Keenlah. Reschedule tomorrow's second shift. A mission briefing aboard the Neema will take its place. Everyone here needs to be there. This is elevated critical."

Keenlah nodded and made the necessary changes.

"…Is that all?" Rael asked everyone, hoping that it was.

"Insofar, yes." Novah answered.

"Very good. Thank you all for your tremendous efforts. You should all be proud."

"Thank you, sir."

"You're all dismissed."

Tablets and computers filed into bags, his staff of six take their exits and, to his immediate relief, leave him with nearly forty minutes to spare before third shift.

Keenlah, when the doors closed, crossed into Rael's field of view. She towered over him and set down her tablet before leaning in slightly to see if she could see anything behind that mask of his.

"What was that about?" She probed.

He cast her a wary glance, voice a carefully neutral drawl. "What do you mean?"

"Your meeting with Shala." She continued to press, tone orderly, "You've been odd since."

He stood from his chair to stall himself time to think. Fog from every direction, he couldn't find himself an answer that would tell the truth without dispelling too much.

"Politics." It finally came. He walked past her and had his back face the woman as he prepped himself something hot to drink for breakfast.

"No. Not politics." Keenlah said defiantly, her study of his features apparent, "That wouldn't have you this distracted."

He set the sealed cup beneath this deck's only tea dispenser, and turned slightly so that only half his face met hers.

It was a cautionary stare. One where his eyes sharpened like flint against stone.

"I'd suggest you stop prying."

"I'd suggest you get yourself together for third shift, then." She retorted, denying him his authority.

A single wince from an eye. Imperceptible to Keenlah, fortunately.

This was precisely why he hired her. Because she was the only one capable in the fleet to question him in such a capacity. Save for maybe Shala. Or Gerrel.

It was rare for him to get emotional like this. Rare. And, intelligently, her endeavors to keeping him focused and unbiased were saved to when they were alone. Doing otherwise would be usurping his authority as an admiral and, worse for his assistant, serve only to make her look insubordinate.

He maintained that locked eye, but it finally returned back to the tea maker. "My apologies. I'm… dealing with familial matters." Rael croaked defeatedly, finally offering the context she'd been digging for. The machine made a sputter and began to dispense.

She didn't have to guess who it was. It had to be the only immediate member left to his name. Rael wouldn't be this stricken otherwise.

"Is something wrong with Tali?"

He didn't know how to give that a straight answer.

"—I don't know, Keenlah."

A lull.

"…I see."

He just stared at the cup emptily, its bobbing diffuser leaking an amber color from the leaves held inside.

She took a spot next to him, her stare also reaching into his cup as the contents rose from within.

Her posture softened and she crossed her arms loosely together.

"You should… see your daughter." She offered and tried her best to not make it insincere, because it wasn't, "See how she's doing."

"She doesn't deserve that from me."

"That's nonsense. How could you say that."

"I just know."

The dispenser stopped and they both watched, drop after drop, the remnants fall from the tip. He did not reach for the mug.

The woman next to him knew him more than anyone. More than Tali. More than even his wife had.

More than even himself.

Pathetic. That's what he felt inside.

"Admiral…" Keenlah pained herself to touch a topic as uncomfortable as this, "Rael. I…— formalities aside—you really need to see her."

"I don't have time."

"Make time tomorrow. We'll be on the Neema. Third shift can be altered. You can dedicate your studies to after shift hours."

His brows didn't show it, but his eyes did lilt upward at the idea.

"Hm." Was all he managed.

"You've got twenty minutes before we need to make our way to the Helderon. That's enough time to make her an email. Let her know you'll be there tomorrow."

"…What should it say?"

"You're her dad." Keenlah said, staring at him first before taking one last look at the cup he still hadn't reached for, "You'll figure it out."

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

---

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

THIRD SHIFT

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

---

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

Tali floated in vacuity.

Hands held loosely around the controls of her EVA, her breath was slow and deliberate as she soaked in the view of the canvas of stars before her.

The Neema's bulkhead was her horizon and it stretched across her plane of view much like a planet would have had she been standing on one.

It was truly silence out here, in the blackness. An eternal dark suspended in an unceasing void.

She could hear only herself. Her heart beating. Breaths churning. Mind thinking.

Eyes eased and soft. Lips holding neither a smile nor a frown. A nearly emotionless figure as she tried emptily to enjoy the universe and its gift of majesty.

A sea of fifty thousand ships stretched out like a line of scattered clouds, yet you could hardly see them from the distances they'd kept themselves at. Only the telltale signs of blinking navigational lights could tell her there was anything out there in this sable of space.

"How we looking, Tali?" Hiva asked her through a crackle on her radio.

Tali's eyes held their place, but she slowly pressed a button that would allow her a reply.

"Getting there, Hiva. Just a moment more."

She tore herself away from the view back to her task.

She brought herself toward the communications array. As anyone would guess, it was responsible for maintaining data links between other ships. Recently, the array had been plagued by intermittent signal drop-outs, a problem for air traffic and reliable access to both the extranet and fleet intranet. A problem that could lead to something potentially catastrophic if left unchecked for the fleet's day-to-day traffic operations.

The sporadic brownouts of youtube, reddit, and thoughtspot also sucked. At least for her with how engrossed she'd become with human media.

"How's the kid and wife?" She asked Hiva. She rose, for herself, a brow. What had prompted her to start small talk like that was… beyond her. She never did that.

Guided by the soft thrum of her suit's maneuvering jets, she reached the module, a cylindrical structure adorned with a network of antennae and transceiver dishes. The problem was with the primary transceiver dish; a diagnostic had revealed a misalignment in its receptor coil, likely caused a micrometeorite impact or, the more usual, the cyclical torture of thermal expansion and flash cooling. Space was usually blindingly hot or terribly cold. Never really an in-between out here.

"Oh, you know. Saela's gonna have to get a new suit soon. She grows like mold." Was his reply.

"Switching to manual alignment." Her report was a quick digression, "And Jora?"

She accessed the maintenance panel. Carefully, she opened the hatch to reveal the coil held in its cassette shimmering dimly under her two flashlights, its usual vibrant glow subdued by a visible crack in the cooling manifold.

"Oh, she's wonderful. Always talking my ear off about her students. The walls, Tali. My god, the walls in my house. I can't even see them from all the drawings she's tacked on from all of her kids."

A smile barely left her. "Ha."

A quiet and thin chuckle. "Yeah."

She extracted the damaged component and replaced it with a new one from the bundle of parts she'd taken before her venture outside.

"How about you, kid? You doing okay?"

She adjusted the coil, using the onboard software to guide the delicate process of realigning it to its optimal orientation.

"Diagnostics running." she announced, initiating the sequence through her wrist-mounted console. She panned her eyes upward and they were reserved and distant. "…I'm okay, Hiva." A manicured lie through a fake tone, "Thank you for asking."

A series of lights blinked rapidly as the system cycled through its checks. Satisfied, Tali resealed the panel and watched the transceiver dish slowly begin to pivot, testing its range of motion under the newly corrected settings.

"Transceiver alignment complete. Signal integrity is… looking green across all bands," Tali relayed back to Hiva. She took another look at the endless sea of stars.

"Alright, Tali," Hiva sighed, "Time to head back in. Don't take too long."

Her reply was a small one. "I won't."

Her harness and the cable that tethered her to home floated lazily by her view. She stared at the security it offered and decided, on a whim, of loosening her grip on her handle of the Neema's hull.

She began to drift away from perceived safety, eyes staring quietly at the abyss that began to surround her.

Like the chains that bound her to the depths of her own despair, the line connecting her to home unspooled silently, unravelling toward inevitable tension. When it grew taut, a gentle tug of inertia pulled at her limbs and head, tilting her back in a slow and graceful arc. Suspended thus, like a marionette at rest, her motion soon ceased completely.

Guided now only by the indifferent grace of zero gravity, she let the universe take her wherever it decided. Blankly, she watched the stillness of the cosmos around her.

Today was John's birthday. A day John had insisted was never important to him. But given that he was gone—…it was important to her.

She could still remember that smashed cupcake the Normandy's crew had duct taped to his door as a cruel joke to celebrate.

They took his boots too. Secured them straight to the ceiling, their angle split apart as if someone had been standing at attention. Though they didn't bother with the laces and let them hang where they may.

It made her laugh then, but all it could summon now was a sad and lonely ache in her heart.

That was four months in on a year's long mission of stopping Saren's madness. She'd been without John now for months. Been without any of her old family. Approaching half a year, actually.

She missed them all. So much.

But most of all, she missed John.

From afar, her silhouette, stark and black, could be hardly seen from a frayed ray of some distant sun. A dark smudge against sparse light. Barely discernible. Hauntingly isolated.

Her eyes surrendered into a close and her vision fell to an even deeper darkness.

Here, surrounded by the infinite, she brought his face into memory. That perfect smile. Those wonderful eyes.

She imagined her hands holding his face, him looking down. She tried to hear his laughter. His voice. The comfort it gave her.

She sought, in that broken library of hers, for that future they would never get to explore. A life she'd never get to see. The chill of the universe had taken so much from her and only offered back silence.

As she drifted, she replayed her last happy memory of him. Quiet promises and tender love as the world slowly crumbled around them.

Her solitude was a universe unto itself. Where its space was grief that floated freely. Where her whispers of love were soundless cries to its hellscaped vacuum.

Before she could fall further into her self-imposed damnation, an email alert beeped. One that pushed past her DND filter. It hit her inbox and she fluttered her eyes back open.

She brought the message into focus, her OT bathing her body in a tawny shade.

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

ꜰʀᴏᴍ: ᴀᴅᴍɪʀᴀʟ ʀᴀᴇʟ'ᴢᴏʀᴀʜ ᴠᴀs ʀᴀʏʏᴀ
ᴛᴏ: ᴛᴀʟɪ'ᴢᴏʀᴀʜ ᴠᴀs ɴᴇᴇᴍᴀ
sᴜʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ: sᴛʀᴀᴛᴇɢɪᴄ ʙʀɪᴇꜰɪɴɢ ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛ
ᴄʏᴄʟᴇ sᴛᴀᴍᴘ: 19ᴛʜ ᴅᴀʏ ᴏꜰ ʟᴜɴ'sʜᴀʟ. ɢsᴛ 2462
sᴇᴄᴜʀɪᴛʏ ᴄʟᴀssɪꜰɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: ᴄᴏɴꜰɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪᴀʟ
ʜᴀɴᴅʟɪɴɢ ᴄᴀᴠᴇᴀᴛs: ꜰʟᴇᴇᴛ sᴇᴄᴜʀɪᴛʏ | ᴏɴʟʏ

ᴛᴀʟɪ,

ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛʜɪs ᴍᴇssᴀɢᴇ ꜰɪɴᴅs ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴀᴍɪᴅsᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇɴᴅᴇᴀᴠᴏʀs.

ɪ ᴀᴍ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ꜰᴏʀᴍᴀʟʟʏ ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄɪᴘᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴄʀᴜᴄɪᴀʟ sᴛʀᴀᴛᴇɢɪᴄ ʙʀɪᴇꜰɪɴɢ sᴄʜᴇᴅᴜʟᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛᴏᴍᴏʀʀᴏᴡ. ᴛʜɪs sᴇssɪᴏɴ ɪs ɪᴍᴘᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ɢɪᴠᴇɴ ʀᴇᴄᴇɴᴛ ʙʀᴇᴀᴋᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜs ɪɴ ᴏᴜʀ ʀᴇsᴇᴀʀᴄʜ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ᴛᴏᴡᴀʀᴅ sɪɢɴɪꜰɪᴄᴀɴᴛ ʀᴇᴠᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs ʀᴇɢᴀʀᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴇᴛʜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ꜰᴏᴜɴᴅᴀᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟ ᴛᴇᴄʜɴᴏʟᴏɢɪᴇs—ɪɴsɪɢʜᴛs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇᴅ ʟᴏsᴛ ᴏʀ ᴅᴇsᴛʀᴏʏᴇᴅ.

ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏsᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜɪs ʙʀɪᴇꜰɪɴɢ ɪs ᴛᴏ ꜰɪɴᴀʟɪᴢᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏʙᴊᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ʟᴏɢɪsᴛɪᴄᴀʟ ᴀʀʀᴀɴɢᴇᴍᴇɴᴛs ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇxᴘᴇᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴ. ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴜɴɪᴛ ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴇʟᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛᴀsᴋɪɴɢ.

ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟs ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʀɪᴇꜰɪɴɢ:

ᴅᴀᴛᴇ: 20ᴛʜ ᴅᴀʏ ᴏꜰ ʟᴜɴ'sʜᴀʟ, ɢsᴛ 2462
ᴛɪᴍᴇ: sᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ sʜɪꜰᴛ ~ sᴛᴀʀᴛɪɴɢ ʀᴇɴɴᴏᴋ.
ʟᴏᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: ᴄᴏɴꜰᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇ ʀᴏᴏᴍ ᴀ, ᴅᴇᴄᴋ 3, ɴᴇᴇᴍᴀ

sᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏᴍᴏʀʀᴏᴡ. ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴇ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ. ɪ'ᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ.

-ᴀᴅᴍɪʀᴀʟ ʀᴀᴇʟ'ᴢᴏʀᴀʜ ᴠᴀs ʀᴀʏʏᴀ
ꜰʟᴇᴇᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴀɴᴅ ᴇᴍᴀɪʟ: ʀᴀᴇʟᴢᴏʀᴀʜ[ᴏ]ꜰʟᴇᴇᴛ.ᴍᴀʀᴛɪᴀʟɢᴏᴠᴇʀɴᴀɴᴄᴇ.ǫᴜᴀ

ᴄʟᴀssɪꜰɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ: ᴄᴏɴꜰɪᴅᴇɴᴛɪᴀʟ ꜰʟᴇᴇᴛ sᴇᴄᴜʀɪᴛʏ ᴅɪʀᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ (ꜰsᴅ) ¹²-⁴ᴀ.
ʜᴀɴᴅʟɪɴɢ ᴄᴀᴠᴇᴀᴛs: ꜰʟᴇᴇᴛ sᴇᴄᴜʀɪᴛʏ | ᴏɴʟʏ

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

Her expression went cathartic. More so than it already was.

Everything else was in line with what she expected from her father to say, save for the last two sentences. She felt wariness at what could be all the ways that could be interpreted.

Had Shala inadvertently shared something she shouldn't have? A frown creased her features as she wondered if everything she'd divulged had somehow spilled over. As much as it was venting, the thought that her frustrations against dad had somehow reached him stirred nothing but angst.

Was she in for another round of caustic lecturing?

Or was she being paranoid?

Perhaps she was reading too deeply?

She'd pushed the thoughts aside and, with a careful sigh, made her way back to airlock four.

When her feet made gentle contact with the catwalk, she keyed her code before setting two hands on the door's lever to allow her access inside.

Door now closed behind her, she locked the suit back to its dock and felt gravity take hold once more.

She couldn't shake the email from her head. So much so she brought it back into view to read it again to make sure she was remembering it right.

She glowered.

Nothing different. Nothing misunderstood.

Against her better judgement, she sent Shala a text.

- ᴅɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴀᴅ? -

Shala, disturbed by a sudden chime and having forgotten to silence her notifications, glanced down momentarily from someone by the name of Captain Joel'Kihn giving his presiding speech.

Those sitting closest to her glanced in her direction and she mumbled her half-made apologies before reading Tali's message.

Shala's heart dropped down into her gut.

- ɪɴ ᴀ ᴍᴇᴇᴛɪɴɢ -, Shala typed up, - ᴛᴀʟᴋ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ -

She sent it.

As Tali waited for both an answer and for the airlock to pressurize, she got the text and groaned after receiving it.

"Ugh." Both hands cast down momentarily at the fact she'd have to wait.

- ᴏᴋ. ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ. – She typed up before sending it off.

Shala sent a quarian version of a thumbs-up emoji.

The airlock finished its cycle with a hiss and slid open with a mechanical clang, granting her access back to the Neema's hold. Stepping through, the first thing her eyes landed on was Olasie; idly lost to tossing a ball bearing between her hands.

Tali really liked her. She'd gotten along really well with her, actually. So much so that having her around usually made the day-to-day bearable. Tali knew, with time, that she'd probably come to feel that way about everyone here.

There was commonality too. Olasie bore a level of familiarity given the woman's seasoned experience of combat operating inside Prazza's Garrison under Gerrel's Special Tasks Unit. Which Tali was now also under, but under Kal's detachment in the meantime.

Being introduced to Juel's circle of friends was something she was incredibly thankful for.

And it did need mentioning, but Juel's circle was small. He knew just about everyone, obviously. But the only ones he'd ever really conversed with was Olasie and Enyah, and recently Tali herself (And maybe Hiva; but the man had his own family to focus on).

Tali had gotten to know Juel primarily because he was in the lab most often. His reputation as the go-to person for any and all "random projects" preceded him. With a dozen certifications under his belt, Juel was their expert tradesman. Whenever a Neeman had a convoluted problem that seemed unsolvable, Juel was the one they turned to.

The last of the bunch was Enyah. She also happened to be Tali's neighbor, but with a home built right above hers.

They were all good to her. Everyone was. But these three were the circle she had now. When she wasn't tinkering about with Juel, she was with Olasie.

And if Olasie wasn't around, she'd buddy up with Enyah after shift if the opportunity permitted.

Regardless, her friends were all busy people.

Olasie was out and about quite a bit. Often for weeks at a time, far removed from the safety of the Migrant Fleet.

Enyah, however, had a job that cloistered her to the bridge as the Neema's Navigational Officer. The only time they saw her was after seventh shift.

And speaking of Enyah, their recent malfunction in the ship's communications array had timed her out of work— which had her waiting for Tali to restore functionality to the comms array.

- ʜɪᴠᴀ, - Tali typed up a text after a moment's stare at Olasie's choice of passing time, - ɪ'ᴍ ɪɴsɪᴅᴇ. -

- ᴏᴋᴀʏ. sᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ sᴏᴏɴ. ɪ'ʟʟ ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴀɪɴ. -

"So?" Olasie wondered aloud seeing it was clear to finally talk to Tali.

"It's working." She answered evenly. "Where's Juel? He said he'd wait for me."

"He told me he had to do something? Asked if I could wait in his place for you instead."

"Oh." Was all Tali could say. "Where'd he go?"

Out came a shrug. "Eh." Olasie set the bearing down atop an open crate she'd taken it from. Seeing Tali's shoulders had her raising a brow.

"How you feeling?"

"I don't know." Tali shrugged with a partial frown, "I got an email from dad and it—"

Tali's mouth hung open from the words that had lined up to be said, but all that came after was another shrug. "—I don't know."

She had to stop herself from stuttering like a broken record.

Olasie gave her a blink. "What is it?"

"Rapid orders," She said instead. "I think we're going to get deployed."

Would imparting her worry of her father's foot note on his email even make any sense to Olasie? Probably not.

"Oh."

Tali began walking and Olasie followed.

"Where to?" Olasie asked.

"Engineering."

"No, I meant where is the mission."

"Ah. Sorry. The Far Rim."

"Oh." Olasie didn't hide the hilt in her surprised voice, "Well. When?"

"Don't know."

They took the rows of ladders down.

"Can't be me that's going. You know I'm leaving today. Unless Gerrel recalls us— it's going to be Kal's team and not Prazza's."

"Did he ever get first squad back to full strength?"

"Our newest transfers?" Olasie said as a way of confirming Kal's replacements since the mess on PODA-S2, "Yeah. They're plenty experienced. They fit in just fine. At least that's what I've heard. I haven't interacted with them much yet."

"That's good." Tali said simply. She chewed her lip and kept climbing down before stopping altogether to get a look at Olasie who paused herself.

"…am I fitting in just fine?" Tali asked warily.

Olasie reached out to get a grip on her arm. There was care behind those eyes of hers. "You're doing just fine. If you're worried, you should've seen Juel when he got here."

"Is that a story worth telling?" Tali descended once more with Olasie doing the same.

"He was pretty quiet. Pledged his gift to the Heavy Fleet and asked to become a part of the Neema. I gave him a tour and we've been friends since."

A few more rungs down before Olasie spoke up, "Thanks for finally getting his ass to join, by the way. Never thought he'd sign up for STU. Never can have enough qualified marines. Much less ex ones."

Tali held back a lip and sighed. "I didn't convince him. I, uhm…—signed him in."

There was a small pause between them. "…Huh. Really?"

"He didn't tell you?" Tali asked, surprised completely.

"No."

"Oh."

They kept descending.

"…I'm surprised he didn't say anything." Tali mumbled.

"Probably because he wanted to join and you're the one that finally gave him the boot to do it."

"Hm." Tali thought idly before backtracking the conversation.

"So what did Juel bring back anyway? Do you know?"

They finally reached the right deck and made their way to engineering.

"A ship. A nice one."

"Class?"

"Frigate."

"A frigate." Tali repeated with deadpanned surprise, "That's… wow. By himself? That's actually really impressive. No wonder why he knows how to dabble in a little of everything. Did he tell you how he got it?"

Again, there was a pause long enough for Tali to gather there was story behind that. One that likely held a certain sacrosanct to it. "He doesn't typically talk a lot about his past."

Tali and Olasie share a stare.

"…Because of Serah." Olasie murmured.

"…oh." Tali tried to reel it back somewhat without sounding insensitive. "Well… have we seen it at least? Anything you know about the ship? Maybe where it came from? It's drive core or armaments?"

"Tali, I— I shoot guns. I… I don't know. Turian maybe? Uh… it uses fuel, I guess? It does go pew pew."

It was clear Olasie was not an engineer.

"Sorry." Was all Tali could say to that.

"Not all of us are nerds like you." She joked. They both stopped by the door to Tali's station.

"A nerd who can shoot guns." Tali tried to jest. Olasie crossed her arms.

"A well-rounded smartie aren't you."

"I do have a PhD."

"You don't." Olasie said disbelievingly.

"I do. Really."

"In what?"

Tali pointed at the sign above them. "Uhm. Engineering."

"That was an incredibly stupid question on my part."

"Ha."

"How did you even find the time for that." Olasie said, trying to piece a timeline together at how that was even remotely possible, "You're like… still two months post pilgrimage."

"Your father isn't Rael'Zorah." Tali murmured.

"Ah." Olasie squinted at that, "That… makes sense."

"What about you? What'd you do for pilgrimage?"

"Nothing as impressive as either of you." Olasie perched herself up against the wall, hands at the small of her back and eyes sent downward, "It's… not really worth sharing."

"It's not a competition."

"It feels like that if you don't measure up to others."

"It's okay if you don't want to say."

"Mining rights in controlled space." She admitted disappointingly, "That's it."

"Olasie, that's… why are you embarrassed about that? Because it's what? Not as immediately tangible?"

"I guess."

"I think that gift is just fine."

"Well. If a Zorah says it's okay, then I guess it is. Look I gotta get my team rounded up and ready. Group sortie in twenty."

"Okay. See you later."

"You betcha. Bye now."

And with that, Olasie turned around with a half-made wave before disappearing.

Tali immediately started receiving a call. She looked down to see it was Shala. What great timing.

"Auntie. Hey."

"Hello, my dear. You have me all worried. What's up?"

"Dad sent me an email."

"What does it say?"

"I… hold on. Let me pull it up."

Tali did just that and reached the bottom of the body of text.

"Mission stuff. Request for meeting. But at the end he just said… make time for me. I want to see you."

"Oh my." Shala praised with a delightful hum, "Interesting."

"Did you —" She cleared her throat, "tell him something…?"

"I might've let something… slip, sweetie."

"Oh Keelah," She wanted to rake her hands through her hair when she heard that, "You didn't."

"Believe me, Tali. You have nothing to worry about."

She didn't believe that for a second.

"What did you tell him?"

"I'll let him answer that. It's best if you hear it from him tomorrow."

Tali brought both palms up to her face and threw her head up in the air. She took in a labored breath and sighed quietly. Quietly enough that Shala wouldn't hear.

"Okay."

"I have to go, now. Please. Don't worry."

Dead words to a deaf woman, Tali didn't listen.

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

---

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

FOURTH SHIFT

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

---

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

Gerrel, having just finished reading the final notes of Rael's summary of Primerah, set it down carefully, and inhaled quietly.

"Interesting."

Rael had been waiting nearly ten minutes while Gerrel had read. "I wouldn't be asking them on such short notice if there was more time."

He pushed the tablet closer to Rael for him to take back. "I know."

Rael left it where it lay and said nothing.

Gerrel nodded blankly to himself before sluggishly standing to his feet so he could think and view out the port window for the chance he might actually catch something interesting to look at.

"…You're certain this isn't another dead end?" A glance behind him.

"You know the answer to that."

Hands clasped behind him now, eyes returning to the expanse from his little window. "It took seven weeks of planning Kal's last mission. And we still missed crucial intel that got people killed. Do you know what it was? Instrumentation failure."

A disdainful sigh from Gerrel. "It's always instrumentation failure."

A pregnant pause that Rael knew not to interrupt.

"…You're asking them to depart in no less a week from now. Not a long time for Kal's detachment to recoup before being sent off again. To the Far Rim no less."

Rael caught what was near unbridled disinclination from Gerrel. For as tight as he ran his team, he was also rigid about his policy of orchestrating ops with hardly the time to plan it.

"This is important. More important than your wasteful favor to Koris' planet planting."

Gerrel webbed his fingers together in front of him at the criticism before turning around. "Did you read what happened? Tali was there."

Rael clenched his teeth slightly, hands somewhat rigid against his armrests at the mention of her name. He hadn't forgotten about her being there. But ever since Shala's intervention, the post-script details of the casualties suffered on PODA-S2 had him viewing her under an entirely different framework now. Made him realize Tali had more than likely witnessed those deaths. Reminded Rael even more about her scars both unseen and untold.

"…I did. Your detachment lost good soldiers."

A dismal sigh escaped Gerrel and he set his hands on his hips. "It's not wasteful, Rael. Contingencies for our people are important."

"It's not a contingency." Rael dismissed immediately, "Masquerading intent is what it is."

"The noncombatants have to go somewhere if we're to take Rannoch back."

Rael's tone was flat and deadly serious. "There are no noncombatants on the Flotilla."

The stare Rael got was bordering on questioning his sanity. But it relented soon after.

"You say that." He began quietly, but his voice ebbed and it was because he was thinking of a way to navigate this without questioning Rael's capacity as both a scientist and leader, "But you've yet to ever answer my question I've asked a decade ago. Call it defeatist. But it still stands the same way it did the first time I asked you."

'How do you propose we take Rannoch when we couldn't stop them at our best?' Rael still remembered it.

This was the real Gerrel. The one removed from his half-truthed military bravado. Even here, at the highest echelons of quarian authority, people questioned the audacity of their pursuits. Fortunately, Gerrel wasn't one to be revealing his personal unrest publicly. These were the kind of opinions disclosed only in the quietude of their personal meetings together. There was enough dissent among the people. He didn't need to be contributing to the common-wealth's politicking.

"The geth, Gerrel," Rael began in concentrated thought, "…their rigid adherence to protocol is both their strength and undoing. Conventionality has been out the window since our eviction. That's not what will win this war. Innovation is our only weapon. We're approaching a breakthrough. I'm fiercely certain of it."

Rael received a glare at the claim. It felt unsubstantiated. But Rael was never one to exaggerate.

Ever.

There was a pause as the two men stared at each other. Gerrel went back to sit at his desk. "That's the first I've heard you say that. A lifetime's worth of work and I don't rightly recall you ever saying that."

Rael only breathed. "Understanding their operational mandates and adaptation capacity is all I do. Tali's gift to us—we're seeing progress inside weeks that would have taken us decades. This shifts the paradigm. I don't say this as an afterthought, Gerrel—there's a chance we'll see Rannoch in our lifetime, sans our creation."

"What does Daro think of all this?"

Rael set his hands together. "The same as you'd expect." He sent his stare up toward the ceiling as he thought more about the enigmatic woman, "I want the geth dead. She wants them to make her an empire."

"Ah." Gerrel nodded as if he were only hearing pastime drivel, "Sounds about right."

"It hasn't caused problems. For now."

"Mm. Will when the fire finds the wood." Gerrel said with hardly a shrug.

Rael disagreed. But he wondered if, given time, Daro's dreams of dominion would ever gain any real ground. She had a fair bit of pull politically, but the leading parties that fractured the quarians were only two. One to reclaim Rannoch, the other to abandon it entirely. You could split them down into their respective sects and derivatives, but it wasn't often you heard of people holding hot takes like that out in the open. The Nedas movement was what stirred and motivated the dissenters. His generation had called them the outworlders. New name, same movement. He hated them regardless.

"What do have planned?" Gerrel asked.

"It's simple," Rael reached for the tablet, "I'll show you."

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

---

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

FIFTH SHIFT

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

---

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

Anxiety.

No. That… that wasn't it.

Fear.

Erhm. No. That wasn't it either.

Unsettled.

That seemed to match more. Maybe. But that didn't paint the whole picture.

Unsettled tension. That sounded better.

Maybe a sprinkle of dread.

Feelings she'd likely groomed herself to feel during her formative years. At least when dad was around.

Right now, it was all living rent free in her head. And she only had time to feel this way because she had time to herself.

Often times, given the capability of the Neema and her crew, she found herself finished of tasks. That usually left her meandering about the ship righting wrongs or retiring early to her home to peruse the net. But given how early it was, she decided to spend it in her second favorite pastime.

She reached the trading deck and stepped off from the ladder before taking a long look at the Neema's tall aisles that made up this floor.

Organized clutter was about the best way Tali could describe the space. Everything was placed where it belonged, but there was so much stuff it was hard to dress it with your eyes that didn't immediately have you thinking the junkyard had been owned by an obsessive perfectionist.

But there was no junk to be found here. All of it served some purpose, no matter how menial, obtuse, or contrived a glance would tell you.

She took the first aisle and it was barren of anyone. She walked down its length without purpose. A wandering gait, she stared absently at the items that passed by, but her mind was chewing what had been gnawing at her instead.

Shala had made it out like it was only a mere slip. She felt her heart sink and she dawdled to a stop in front of a large dumping bin.

It was incredible really.

She'd experienced so much in life. Adventure and war. Happiness and indescribable pain. Saw what the galaxy offered. Both beauty and torture. Love and death.

Her two hands reached out and rest against this dirty can, eyes limply dotting about the small metal landscape of parts strewn about.

All of those experiences and she still felt herself shrink under her father's gaze.

It didn't make sense.

Her final days on the Normandy had her deciding to abandon the pilgrimage entirely. Her resolve then was cured. Cemented. She had committed herself to tossing aside tradition completely. Committed to just mailing the damn gift straight to dad with hardly a worry about the consequences that would follow.

And she knew where her tenacity had been sourced. It was because she had found her calling. A purpose grander than simply trussing up her people's subsistence in space.

But that didn't stop, at all, the dissent that continued to war inside her head after the fact. Even after her committal to the Normandy, she often battled with how selfish it felt. Even back when it was only something she entertained on the periphery of some intrusive thought.

But she never let that guilt go without reminding— duty to the Normandy was in no way exchanging duty to the fleet.

Only a passenger to her own feelings, Tali mused on with a sigh. The control she had over her feelings was slipping. At least, that's how she felt.

She picked up a gear, its weight deceptively heavy for its size. She stared on, its teeth gleaming under dusty lights while she spun it over slowly between her hands because it was something to hold onto.

But then the Normandy died. Killed with half her people dying to the void, John among them. Only remnants of her former self had managed to poke through the trauma since.

She dropped the gear back to its pile, face an unreadable desert. An intrusive thought leaked, and she imagined herself moving on. To find someone else to have a life and family with.

She couldn't properly imagine it without it sending something exceptionally hurtful to strangle her heart and throat with.

Why she even imagined such a thing felt out of place, honestly. She never thought all that much about having children. She hardly thought about motherhood, ever.

And falling in love with John... well. That just about cemented herself an answer about children entirely.

But he wasn't here anymore.

So how soon would it be before people would start wondering why she hadn't found someone? How soon would it be before they start asking about continuing a legacy?

She wanted to hurl at the prospect. She wanted to hurl at the idea that someday she wouldn't hurl at the prospect.

She stomped the thought, crushed it for now, and sent it off about as far as she could.

She dug deeper into the box to try and distract herself. A raised brow, she fished out a rubber ball.

"Huh."

She gave it a bounce and caught it as it rebounded.

Hm.

A bouncy ball.

She gave it another bounce and, as childish as it seemed, did work to pacify her self-subscribed afflictions.

She took it with her and walked further down the aisle.

Drop. Bounce. Catch. Drop. Bounce. Catch.

She got more playful and cast it toward a wall to challenge herself off the angle she'd have to catch it at.

She took the second aisle down now, mind now occupied by her new pastime. Still, even with her busy hands, her mind still tried to trickle the anxiousness of what tomorrow held.

Part of her debated if she just follow-up and just ask her dad what he wanted to finally put it to rest.

But that felt like risking having whatever he wanted to discuss ruminate his mind more than it already was. She didn't feel like riling up what could already be a storm.

And she knew Shala had revealed about as much as she was willing to. So that was just as much of a dead end.

She finally reached the end of aisle two and went into the third.

That's when she saw Juel. On his back. Laying on the floor staring blankly at the ceiling surrounded by a disarray of parts and tools.

"Juel?"

"Yup."

Still supine, he didn't even bother turning to face her.

"This where you went after leaving Olasie in your place?"

"Yup."

"What are you doing?"

"Giving up." He murmured lazily.

"What are you trying to do?"

"Frankly, I'm not even sure anymore."

"…I can see that."

There was a fan above them that squeaked slightly while one of the crew walked by.

"Hey Juel." The passerby waved, "Hey Tali."

"Hey Dayah." Juel mumbled to the woman. Tali only returned the gesture.

He craned his head slightly toward Tali. "…you ever have such a hyper-specific problem, that not even the deepest darkest corners of the extranet have talked about it yet?"

She took a closer peek at everything lying about. A box of tools and its contents scattered. Pieces of god knows what spread around with screws and fasteners abound.

"…Now I'm… too lazy to put all this crap back together. Been lying here since."

"How long?"

"Oh. 'bout ten minutes."

"You sure?"

"…'bout twenty minutes." He mollified.

She bounced her ball a couple times and pursed her lip before sitting down next to him as he lay there like a starfish.

"Want me to help clean up?"

"Would you?"

She reached for the thing closest to her, ball set aside. She decided to strike up a conversation with him. All was fair with a favor like this, she figured.

"Olasie told me about you coming back from pilgrimage."

"Ah. Did she. What prompted you to talk about that?"

"I don't remember."

"Well. What did she tell you?"

"That it was quite the gift."

"Was she more specific or…?"

"A ship."

"Used warship." Juel corrected, "Turian."

"Those cost… billions of credits, Juel. How?"

"They don't cost billions if you're buying chunks. She's got probably… over half a dozen serial numbers that make up the Rocinante. That's her name by the way."

Tali gave him a perplexed stare.

"That name's coming up as human in origin. Why did you…?"

"A human told me to name it that. I liked it. So it stuck. Also good for paperwork." He flip-flopped his hands, left to right, "Human name, turian ship—" He shrugged as best he could after while he still lay there, "Keeps the sugar heads up at C-Sec's DSV guessing. At least, that's what the guy said."

"Who?"

"Alex."

"Why did I ask." Tali wondered aloud, reaching for a screwdriver to remount a circuit board he'd deconstructed, "I wouldn't even know him."

Juel stayed quiet and finally pulled himself upright. "What brought you down here?"

"To think. Finding you was a coincidence."

"Ah."

"Why a frigate?" She wanted to know.

Juel reached for a clam-shelled component and fiddled with its assembly. He didn't say anything and his stare turned gaunt.

"…I got overzealous."

His tone had her glowering, grip on the screwdriver waning slightly.

"That frigate was…" His voice didn't fully penetrate the air and he bit his lip as he thought a little harder about how to say this. "—Her purpose had nothing to do with pilgrimage."

Tali let the silence continue and she was already starting to draw up a picture of what was really motivating him.

"Wanted to use it to find Serah. Almost five years I built that thing. Paying all my money renting out a dock to do it while I paid feelers to find her."

"Where'd you get the money to do any of that?"

"I built up a pretty good chop shop on the side. Employees and everything. Called it Kaan's Sappers and Scrappers. Holed it up in the Traverse. Aaral station. Bay number delta six." He recalled.

The parts in his hands didn't move. "Then reality caught up to me. You need money and a crew to keep a ship that large afloat. Had both. But then I ran out of money. Then I ran out of crew. One begets the other."

A defeated look on his face, he snapped the pieces together and a quiet lull hung. "Six years of searching and the feelers came back empty handed too. Couldn't find anyone named Jolak so I took the ship and…" His exhale was desolate, "I flew home."

"I shouldn't have asked." Tali murmured.

He gave her a neutral stare. One that told her almost nothing about the pain inside him. "It's alright."

"I'm sorry, Juel. I can't… imagine."

"Yeah." Juel murmured from his place in hell.

Her stare faltered and she resumed, face both mournful and heartbroken for him.

Whereas she knew of John's fate, Juel didn't know of Serah's. Imagination had to fill in the blanks. And the imagination had a twisted way of… imagining the worst.

She knew, objectively, whatever pain Juel was suffering from, was a different kind entirely from hers.

He set aside one piece for another while she looked about at everything that cluttered them both.

"…So. What were you really trying to do here?"

"Tried outsmarting my problem. Thought one of these would have a sensor I needed. But they don't."

"Who're you helping now?"

"Kayleb's scanner thing. It's not really that important."

"I don't think I know of a Kayleb, yet." She said to try and keep him talking. She wanted to steer him away from what he was undoubtedly thinking of now.

"Just one of the youngin's." Juel murmured, "Science project. Promised his dad I'd help."

"That's really sweet of you."

"Yeah." He breathed disinterestedly.

Families. They were surrounded by them.

Despite the fleet's strict one-child policy, people took family seriously. Every child was cherished. They had to be. Children were as crucial to the fabric of their culture as it was their survival.

Naturally, that guided her thoughts back to her own parents. About the strained relationship she had with her father. Or the unfilled void that took her mother's place.

A glance toward Juel. She wondered now what kind of relationship he had with his. Or if he even had one. She wasn't entirely sure who he had to claim as family. Him never mentioning them made her wonder.

She took a deep breath to keep her voice soft. "Do you ever think about your mom and dad?"

The words hung in the air, fragile and tentative. She never looked him in the eye when she asked.

Juel's hands stilled, but they fell back to his task. "What makes you ask?"

She made it obvious why. At the far end of the aisle, Tali watched a young girl tugging at her father's sleeve, excitedly showing him something she found. The father ruffled her hood and took whatever it was she had in her hands. The moment was warming and it hurt her. Juel only glimpsed upward to get his answer before dropping his stare back down.

Tali felt a pang of both bitterness and longing as she watched them. She could hardly remember a moment like that with her own dad.

"Sometimes," He answered lightly. "Not as much as I used to."

Tali turned the thing over in her hands. "Do you ever talk to them?"

Juel shook his head, a slight, almost imperceptible, motion. "No. Haven't in a long time."

He didn't seem all that bothered by his revelation toward her. "It's a pretty one-sided conversation, you see."

Tali remained quiet.

"Parents went missing out in the field. Fleet doesn't know what happened to the ship they were on when it disappeared. Happened when I was little. Nine."

Keelah, she was bad at this. Everything she kept picking had him revealing something awful.

Layers of tragedy. The thought of Juel as a little boy, dealing with something as incomprehensible as that, made her feel a tear.

"I'm sorry, Juel," she said quietly. "Keelah, I—I didn't mean to—"

"It's okay," he interrupted gently, "It is what it is."

Juel's OT went off and he gave the notification a peek. "…Olasie's getting ready to leave. We should wish her off."

Tali looked around the mess. "But what about all this stuff?"

Juel reached a hand into his bag and brought out a placard before setting it on the ground. Tali leaned in a bit to read it.

"Juel's messy mess. No touchy touch." She let out a single dry laugh. "This happens enough that you made one of these?"

He got to his feet and helped her up. "Yup."

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

---

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

SIXTH SHIFT

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

---

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

A procession of quarian marines filtered through the Neema's doors to dock. Rucks strapped to backs, they sauntered like chickens to a coop while Tali and Juel watched from the sidelines to try and pick out Olasie and her team from the crowds.

Eventually, they saw her. She threw a hand up to grab their attention with the rest of her squad following.

Tali knew them all. Teri and Darehk. Talukh and Kylie. Strangely, or maybe not so strangely, it was the same Kylie who'd been the first person to greet her when came aboard the Neema as a newcomer.

Olasie approached and set her ruck down before adjusting the sling to her rifle and tossing her arms around Juel and Tali.

"You came."

"Of course." Juel said lamely, "I always do."

They gathered into a tight circle to let those needing to pass by do so without too much difficulty.

"How long this time?" Juel asked.

"Oof. I don't really know. That's all dependent on what the eggheads find. Hopefully not too long?"

"Heard you guys are heading out yourselves." Darehk said aloud to Tali and Juel.

"Who told you?" Tali asked him.

"Word spreads." He said with a quick shrug, "All we know is that it's in the Far Rim."

"I didn't hear that." Teri gobbed, "Wish I could go. More fun than wherever we're headed."

"Be careful out there." Talukh warned to both Tali and Juel, "Both our ops out there got cut early because of geth. Hope that doesn't happen to you."

"Eh, don't worry Lukh. They'll have Tali with 'em." Kylie said with a smile, tossing a wink toward Zorah, "I'm sure Kal's team'll be fine."

Tali let out a laugh that was something more akin to an embarrassed stammer.

The Neema's PA pulsed a long and high pitched sound to alert the inhabitants of an announcement.

"Priority: STU and linked expeditionaries: Attention. Attention." Came a call over the dock's PA, "STU marines assigned to Task Group Ectal, report to bay three. Secure all payloads. Second load bearing clearance enacted. Transport four space departure in GST ten. Ectal group is now full-active. Mandatory attendance effected. Keelah'Selai."

Another sharp tone to end the broadcast.

The dropships in the bay began their final checks. Gimbled jets ran through their testing cycles and a deep, resonant rumble of engines began to permeate the bay. An ugly choir of machines, their voices swelled into a low and reverberating howl as they began, in concert, their powerful and based crescendo.

"That's the cue," Olasie faced her team of four, "Go on. I'll catch up with you all."

Her squad exchanged their goodbyes to Tali and Juel and left the three of them alone.

When they were well enough away, Olasie gave them both a sad smile. "Please be careful when you're out there. Tell Enyah bye for me."

"We will." Juel said.

"I'll text you guys if I can."

"Okay." Juel gave her a lethargic smile, "Take pictures."

Olasie reached for the strap on her duffel and sent it over her back as she readjusted her rifle's sling. She took some small steps backward and sent them both a clumsily blown kiss before turning around to find her ride.

They waited quietly, only the two of them now, as they began to see the first of the transports begin its ascent to the rail that would commandeer them to an airlock.

"So where exactly are we going?" Juel asked her simply, arms crossed, eyes held up to the commotion that surrounded them.

"You don't know?"

"The email was pretty generic." Juel mentioned, "Not an admiral's kid. So the details were skimp."

She caught the jest and rolled her eyes. "Har har. Very funny."

"What."

"I got the same as everyone else," She said passively, "I haven't a clue where we're going other than us being sent to geth space."

"Ah."

"Don't 'ah' me." She grumbled.

"Mm." He managed instead before giving her a slightly musing grin. "Why the long face?"

Sensing that they were taking up more space than necessary, they left the docks behind. They made it some way down the hallway before Juel shoved his hands into his pockets.

"I'm… just stressed out." Tali answered finally, now that it was quieter, "But I shouldn't even be complaining to you. You and… everything you said—all that does is puts things in perspective."

They kept walking and took a left into a narrower passageway.

"Funny you say that." Juel said, hands still in his pockets, "I recall one time of this guy on the extranet who lost his leg? Said the pain was indescribable."

She made a face. "…And?"

"He said there's still room to bitch about paper cuts when he gets them."

"Hm."

"So, what ails you?" Juel asked.

"My dad." She said dejectedly, still unconvinced of his attempt at consoling her, "He sent me an email and…" A sigh, "Well. He wants to see me. After the briefing tomorrow."

"I'm not seeing anything out of the ordinary here."

"I know. It's just… really complicated."

He tried to piece what little he could from the hints she gave him. Seeing as how it had a lot to do with relationships, he brought to memory everything she'd suffered from instead as a way to compare the two.

This issue seemed like a non sequitur to him. But what did he know.

"You've faced so much worse." Was his answer.

"I know that. Yet…"

He noticed the speechless break had went on longer than it should have. He gave her a quick look. "—I'm still listening."

"I know. But I don't want to drivel."

"Whatever it is, Tali, you can handle it."

Uncertainty remained. She crossed her arms as they walked now and muttered. "Maybe."

Juel made no effort to push the issue. Without anything else to say, they made their way back to the trading deck in silence.

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

---

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

SEVENTH SHIFT

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

---

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

Home.

It was what he saw with his spent eyes from his little viewport as they approached the Rayya.

Subdued chatter from Vana as he brought them in close concert with her aft, port side, docking bay.

"We have you, Autorah. Controls form green. Cradle locked."

"Copy, Rayya control. Secure grid eight-two. Four space propped. I'm all engines out-lined."

A resonant thud and a settled shudder. The Autorah was secured and brought inside. The thrum of her engines began to ease, and their idle began a gradual descent in pitch.

Rael stood with Keenlah and they gathered their belongings before joining Vana to disembark.

When the doors opened, the quietness of the cabin was suddenly assaulted by the Autorah's engines still winding down. Vana stepped aside, saluted Rael as he passed, and began his after-flight checklist.

When Rael reached the catwalk's hooked lip that would net them access to the Rayya's interlaced hallways, he turned and waited for Keenlah to catch up to him.

"Sir?"

"Everything filed away?"

"Yes."

"Thank you. Then it's time to rest."

"We have another very busy day ahead of us tomorow."

A faint smile, no matter how forced, did splay his lips. "Always."

The two parted and Rael, with only his briefcase to keep him company now, went to the elevator to finally retire himself of the day.

The corridor unfurled before him, dimly lit and silent. He crossed the space and reached the lift that would take him to quarters.

The rest was a well traversed blur. But at long last, he arrived. Curtains swept aside, he entered his room, briefcase set to its usual place whenever he happened to spend his night here.

And then, nothing. He stood there, statuesque, head down, eyes a narrow gaunt.

He was tired. A tiredness that he knew sleep wouldn't resolve. This day had stretched further than it should have. Mentally exsanguinated of Shala's intervention, his focus had been all but besmirched.

Irony.

A red letter day and he spent it moping.

Darkness at the corners of his home, he slowly turned back to draw the drapes across their rung before taking his two steps to sit at the edge of his bed.

He took his sudmint teeth cleaner and chewed on both the tablet and his thoughts.

"𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶. 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘥." He heard again. But it wasn't from Shala. It was from Eshara. Pain, rich and deep, seeped and he sealed his sight from the world in a tight squeeze as he felt his frown turn into a tremble.

A memory set before him, he saw his little girl. Wide and adoring eyes. Tangled hair and toothy smile.

That was all a lifetime ago. A life buried by layers of time. Of separation and duty. And furthermore, as Shala had accused, neglect.

He did not let it breach his wall. He remained within his center, and the anguish that was set across his features fell away. Neutrality returned.

Boots removed and realk folded away, he slipped beneath the covers to surrender himself to the darkness.

A darkness of what would, yet again be, another dreamless night.

---

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

THE NEXT DAY.

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

---

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

In strode Admiral Rael'Zorah. Briefcase in hand, he crossed over the rows of men and women standing at attention as he made his way to the podium to begin his briefing. When he passed by Tali, he gave her, with a fleeting look, a subtle nod.

She did not return it.

Something he noticed.

"Please, everyone." He started, bag set aside as he reached for his notebook within it, "Take your seats."

Soldier and scientist alike sit and it was a charade of squeaky chairs.

Satisfied everyone was relaxed and paying attention, Rael dimmed the lights before projecting data onto the screen behind him.

"The intelligence disseminated in this briefing is classified and must not leave the room. This information is for your eyes only."

There was an intermittent pause before the screen focused into a specific cluster, which revealed a planet overwhelmed with gray clouds and her sixteen continents.

"Her name is Primerah." Rael began as he glanced behind him to look at the image himself, "Much of the geography data, including the cities that once belonged to her, have been lost."

The slide changed.

"Primerah once belonged to the Peoples' Republic of Gormeh. Most of its farmlands are dotted around the peninsulas of the northern continents since its iron deposits and tough tundra further inland complicated agriculture. This is important to know because the inlands indicate to us that dust storms of great magnitude will sweep these iron deposits up and into the air. You know what that means. Poor to no radio communication."

The slide switched again and showed what had to be a satellite image of Primerah's northern continent.

"This is where you will go. The remnants of Primerah's city: Basin Si and her capital: Tolas Veyah."

Satellite images were produced for the congregation to see. Many of them of varying quality. Crude to detailed. It was clearly a city, undoubtedly. Its infrastructure, based on some of the images they'd taken, showed that many of the buildings withstood the test of time. But, given the ravages of the morning war, many of them were gutted of their contents and toppled into their neighboring streets and buildings.

"The city is a fortress. I would recommend you take pictures to keep for yourselves. You will be seeing the longest and tallest wall our people have ever built there. You will also be the first in centuries to see it in person."

Another slide change.

"Inside this city is something we believe to be very important for us. A military of sciences installation near the heart of Tolas Veyah. Here, is where we believe we will find what we need."

Again, a change of slides.

"Data. It's what we seek. Every hard drive. Every OSD you find. Papers even, though I doubt any exist given the timeline of its abandonment. Secure anything you find. Everything."

Rael stood away from his podium to think, his silhouette blocking momentarily the screen he passed by. "You are undoubtedly wondering why this information is important. I will explain."

He stopped and saw everyone with their stares leveled at him. But then he let his gaze fall to his daughter who sat in the frontmost row. A new suit. New realk. But undoubtedly the pattern of Zorah.

"Tali'Zorah, my daughter, brought back something remarkable for us. This information is revealing material critical to our success in building a prediction model for us to better understand the geth. But we're still only getting pieces of this puzzle. We need a second data set to further secure the confidence of our research."

He walked back to his podium.

"But perhaps even that is not explanation enough. Bottom line: this model is going to let us spy on them. We will know, everything they decide to do as they do it. As they plan it. We eventually, through this model, will strategize a way to influence the geth entirely. Ultimately, to shut them down. To factually, physically, turn them off. En masse."

He heard their whispers and watched their heads that turned left and right. It almost brought out a smile.

"I know it sounds too good to be true. But imagine it. Not a single death. Only a peaceful journey back to Rannoch to renew and rebuild. No more ships. No more suits. Not just for your children, but for us all. If this succeeds, we are to be the last of our migrant generation."

Turning to face the screen now, he changed the slide to show them what was, essentially, a bare boned plan of what he'd scrapped together with Gerrel's passing guidance.

"You will be deploying in 3 separate corvettes. An ice-meteor, one we've titled Nocturnal-Sentinel, is a giant glacier of rock and ice that will be passing in close proximity to Primerah. That will be your ticket in. You will anchor yourself and coast in 4 days' time until you reach your target. From there, you will disengage and drift until entry of Primerah's atmosphere. Search and secure the objective's parameters. Then exit out when Nocturnal-Sentinel begins its transit away from Primerah."

Tali listened and her eyes remained focused entirely on her father.

He sounded different. Sounded… relieved. She felt something rattle her chest and it made her hands grip nothing.

The dread inside her had begun to abate. If this man had a vendetta to spill toward his daughter, it did not appear that way in the slightest.

Lips pressed together, she started to wonder what it could be about. Especially after her call with Shala just yesterday.

Regardless of the feelings, the things her dad was divulging was, frankly, incredible.

Dad never stirred people up like this. For him to do that must've had him so confident, that it was worth saying and sharing.

She actually got excited. Until she had to remind herself of the carnage that would soon loom over the galaxy.

Even if everything came to fruition in a way that dad anticipated, it would soon be ripped away when the reapers came.

Perhaps it was prudent to… inform him of these developments. Surely, at some point, the data she'd released to them would reveal the relationship between the geth and Sovereign if she didn't.

People were already standing up and she blinked several times to catch up to the fact the meeting was already over.

That was… incredibly fast. Tali looked ahead to see her father scribbling notes in his notepad, using the podium as his makeshift desk. The room, once bustling with the murmurs of attendees, now began to empty.

"Suppose this is my time to make an exit, huh?" Juel whispered, half-standing, leaning close to her, "…I'm gonna go now. Spill the tea when you're done."

A combination of a glare and an eye-roll from her sent Juel walking off, leaving her alone. She remained in her seat as people slowly filed out, the sounds of shuffling feet and gentle chatter fading to silence. Soon enough, only she and her father remained.

An unnerving quietness. She hated how small she felt in moments like these, how her voice wavered despite her will to sound composed.

Her father finally finished whatever it was he was writing and closed his booklet with a soft snap. He wordlessly gathered his belongings into a neat stack before slipping everything back into his bag.

Tali shifted uncomfortably in her seat, eyes searching for something to try and replace what was anxiously occupying her mind.

Finally, he acknowledged her existence, and he spoke to get her attention.

"Thank you for staying," he said, to break the silence.

A sudden mix of relief and apprehension. The stern, authoritative figure that she was so accustomed to seemed almost vulnerable now.

"...You said you wanted to talk about something?" she asked, trying to mask the timidness that crept into her voice.

He cinched the clasp on his bag and set it down before walking up to her. He stared down at his daughter, his eyes heavy with exhaustion. "I wanted to see you."

"For?" she prompted, sensing there was more he wanted to say.

He swallowed hard, the tension in the room evident. "There is no reason," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He tepidly took a seat next to her, staring forward, not meeting her gaze. "I... need to be better. For you."

Her voice was hardly more than a croak. "What do you mean?"

Elbows set on his knees, he looked down, hand pinching a palm in a rhythmic motion to massage away a kink brought about by nerves and thoughts. "I love you, Tali. I have not made that clear to you, I believe."

His voice was incredibly quiet, ashen. He looked at her with those tired and exhausted eyes of his.

"You are my world, Tali."

She could see his brows furrow. A concentrated mess. "It may not seem that way. And I've never expressed it in a way that matters."

His eyes grew wet, and he struggled to keep his voice even against the tumult building. He willed himself to reach out and grasp her hand. It was a cautious and hesitant reach. And when he met her gaze, he saw not the grown woman she had become, but the little girl she once was.

Again. That beaming smile. That front tooth missing. The messy, tousled hair.

"You will always be my little girl."

Her soul wrapped up into a tangled mess and she couldn't find the words.

"Dad, I…"

"—I owe you an apology." He continued, "I'm sorry. For what I said to you. For how I've been. I take it back, if you'll allow."

She stared into his wearied eyes. And just like that, her wall, pocked and bruised, collapsed. It crashed and foundered, and she felt a feeling she hadn't felt in years.

The love of a parent. Tender and pure. It touched her brokenness and she saw him. Not an Admiral. Just a dad. Her father. Him.

She hugged him. Fiercely. And in that hug, Rael felt her chest heave as a silent cry left her.

He held her tightly as if afraid she might slip away.

She knew this was only a step. This was not something that was going to change overnight for either of them. But, she knew, that this was real. Beneath an admiral was a regular dad. One she'd wanted since forever.

The hug stretched on and Rael mumbled.

"…What now?"

It was an embarrassing question, he knew. But, for all that it was, she expected him to ask it. He was reluctant to ever leave things open ended.

Wishing she could wipe away her tear, a laugh escaped her and she pulled away slightly.

"I'm not sure, dad." She said, still holding onto him slightly. "How about we just start here?"

He nodded dumbly and sniffled.

"…Okay."

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

---

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

4-28-2184

[ GEMINI SIGMA | JULAS CLUSTER | MIGRANT FLEET | MFS NEEMA | BAY 2 ]

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

---

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ

Kal'Reeger vas Aldah nar Torah stood, a distance away from his garrison of marines, and watched them with a careful and attentive eye.

Many of his team were still getting over what had just recently transpired on PODA-S2. The replacements, as seasoned as they were, obviously would struggle to fill the void that was left from the men and women they all lost.

You could see it just by the way they stood around. Naturally, you didn't buddy up too close to people you didn't know. Which was apparent by how most of the fill-ins were standing alone. Resting and waiting without much a word to anyone.

Functionally, they were cohesive. The combat drills told him as much. The other half of the job? The part where you waited? He couldn't say.

Hopefully, in the days that lay ahead, they'd settle in a little better than what he was seeing.

At last, his second to most recent members of his team arrived. Juel and Tali. Everybody was early.

Left on a technicality, Tali was effectively under Kal's command. The man would be remiss to say, however, that the arrangement made him incredibly uncomfortable given both the position and reputation Tali had built for herself. There was no royalty here, but it might as well be when a Zorah was around.

"Ma'am." He greeted earnestly before extending a hand for Juel to shake. "Juel."

Juel took it. "Hey Kal."

They took spots next to the man and they all panned their attention to the corvettes they'd be riding on for the next few weeks.

A bustle of activity, the crew of Neema worked to stock their transports with everything they'd need.

"They should have everything sorted in ten." Kal thumbed the corvettes in their respective bays. "We're ready to board. You ready?"

They both gave him a nod and Tali adjusted the duffel slung over shoulder.

"I am."

"Ready."

"Alright." Kal was already moving toward his team to them round up, "Then let's get this started, shall we?"

Juel and Tali remained where they were and watched Kal, with a wordless gesture, for them to assemble.

Those sitting rose to their feet. A messy charade of bags and packs tossed over shoulders as both soldier and scientist alike grouped up into their respective outfits to split off and board their rides.

"This is going to be one hell of a vacation."

"See, I knew you'd like doing this."

All Juel could do is stretch his back and grumble. "I hate vacation."

She let out a little huff of a grunt and sauntered forward. "Come on."

They got in line and began their slow ascent up the raised catwalk that would bring them to what would be their home for the coming weeks.

A text.

She glanced downward to see it was from dad.

- ɢᴏᴏᴅ ʟᴜᴄᴋ, ᴛᴀʟɪ. ʙᴇ sᴀꜰᴇ. ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ. -ᴅᴀᴅ -

A parting gift for his daughter.

Tali felt a glow in her heart and she smiled as she passed through the hold.