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CHAPTER 9
1/27/2186
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There it was.
The Migrant Fleet.
A cloudlike aggregation of fifty thousand ships drifting soundlessly through space.
Shepard's fingers on the port window flexed instinctively at the sight. Models of every ship John could ever fathom floated by. All of them old and full of character, he imagined.
To his right, Tali, who had just gotten out of her power nap, watched with a lazy eye before sighing happily at the nostalgic and homey view.
"Wow…" Is all John could say.
"Yup."
The human gave the nebulae behind the whole Flotilla a good once over.
"How long does it usually take for the traffic controllers to get us a docking cradle?"
"Really depends." She replied earnestly, "Typically ten to twenty minutes, tops."
"Not bad." He murmured. He sighed and took a good long look at Juel who stood at the far end of the room. He was conversing with some others while pointing several times to the data-pad he was holding.
"What's he talking about?" John asked.
"Eezo reports. Always Eezo reports." She panned with a monotone.
John shrugged and returned his attention to the port window.
"So many ships. Really is a view." He murmured. Tali nodded slowly and took the time to appreciate the view herself.
"Yeah, I should look at it more often."
He nudged her shoulder before giving it a good pat.
"Quite an impressive home." He whispered, "You should definitely admire it more often." His eyes immediately recognized one of the Live-Ships.
"Holy damn. That's the Rayya isn't it?" He felt his breath leave him, "You grew up in that?"
"Yes. Yes I did." She said smugly while crossing her arms and bouncing on the balls of her feet.
"You think we'll ever get a chance to go there?" He turned back to face the Rayya that was finally beginning to recede from view.
"Absolutely." She said with a frail laugh before stammering, "We, uh—actually have to go there and debrief my dad tomorrow. So." Her hand carefully flattened one of the creases on her veil.
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"But afterward, you're going to have to give me a tour. I'd love to see what she's got inside her."
He winked but remembered she couldn't see it. Instead he placed a pointer on his visor and stabbed twice to signify his expression.
She nudged him with an elbow softly before muttering 'Bosh'tet' to his crappy innuendo.
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"What. In. Living. Hell. Is. This." The mercenary's finger jabbed repeatedly at the cool blue fish tank that lined the cabin's longest wall.
"Décor." Miranda said evenly.
"The looks of it… you're out to try and make Shepard a goddam space king." Zaeed walked down into the bedroom and guffawed at the king-sized bed and lounge. Both Garrus and Miranda watched Massani continue his aimless inspection.
"So this was supposed to be Shepard's cabin." Garrus began while he looked around himself. Every second he spent in here reminded him less of a military ship and more like a gleaming rich man's quick getaway for a one-night stand.
Zaeed was right.
Space King.
"Yes." Miranda said simply, "and I know you don't approve."
"Quite the opposite, really." Garrus replied by giving the woman a guarded smile, "If Shepard does join us, he'll deserve it—though you'll have some convincing to do." His boots scuff slowly to Shepard's desk and put a talon on the only box resting upon it.
"This is…" Garrus' talons slowly grasped the small and delicate piece, "It's Shepard's Medal of Honor."
"The original." Miranda added while walking up next to the turian.
"How?"
"It was in the ship we found Shepard in. Inside a duffel bag: only his and Tali's Star of Valor. Along with a shotgun and a bandolier of thermal heat sinks."
"You mean these?" Miranda and Garrus turn back to see that Zaeed had opened every cabinet imaginable while holding said Shotgun and bandolier in his hands.
"That's Tali's spare shotgun from the Normandy SR1." Garrus put down the medal and hurriedly approached the mercenary with his hand-drawn out to take it from him.
"Fancy piece your quarian gal had. Her modifications? Rightly done." Zaeed dropped the hefty weight into Garrus' hands.
"Indeed she did. She lost her first one raiding a collector ship. My fault though. 'Turbulent landing' was the reason why, if put lightly."
"Raiding a collector ship? That sounds like a story worth telling, that there." He gave Tali's old shotgun a nod.
"It was. I'll tell you sometime if I ever get the chance."
"Good." He nodded to Miranda to get her attention.
"You said we had a mission to get to, love?"
"It's Mrs. Lawson."
"I'll work on that."
Garrus put the shotgun and bandolier carefully back into one of Shepard's drawers.
"We're trying to get a salarian scientist in the slums. He's running a dingy clinic right in the thick of a deadly plague." Garrus explained, "Thing is, the virus only kills non-humans— Vorcha excluded. And everyone is blaming the humans. Naturally."
"Naturally." Zaeed repeated.
"And it would be understandable, Mr. Vakarian, if you abstain. Given the mission's hazards." Miranda piped with professional concern.
"Nothing a hard suit can't handle."
"Excellent. Briefing will be in fifteen minutes in the conference room. EDI is already providing us with an operation order." Miranda's heels clicked as she made her way to the elevator, "Please place everything back the way it was, Mr. Massani."
"Right away, love."
When Shepard's door closed, Garrus turned to the mercenary.
"Last I heard, Massani, she was married. I'd keep those credit-crummy hands off her." Garrus' mandibles split into a wide grin.
"Ha. Comedic. Lucky bastard. Or unlucky. Whoever he is."
"Jacob."
"No way? Taylor? That ugly arse?"
"I think his skin looks better than all you pasty types."
"Ha! You an' I are gonna get along just fine, Archangel."
"I still don't understand. Why's Jacob unlucky?"
"Lesson number one, Angel: Never marry a woman who isn't willing to change her last name in the name of pride. If she can't get on two knees for you, then why in hell should you get on one for her?"
"You're assuming she doesn't give oral sex to Jacob because she didn't change her last name to his?"
Zaeed frowned. "Christ, kid."
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Three Cerberus LAVs (stripped of Cerberus' typical white gleam for incognito ops) turned the next bend and onto a shady looking street with dozens of homeless bystanders.
A typical scene on Omega.
Garrus' team, Garrus himself, Zaeed, Jacob, and a small six man squad of Cerberus soldiers stationed on this shit hole, zipped through Omega's city traffic in their tanks to their objective. The ride carried on in silence for a sum of minutes before Garrus finally caught something in the corner of his eye.
"Look at that." The turian's mandible flared angrily as he watched, from a distance, a number of batarians (In Blue Suns armor, of course) tying down a naked salarian before brandishing a hot poker. The first thing one of the batarians did was swing the red hot prodding tool like a bat across the salarian's face, effectively knocking out teeth and searing a cheek. They turned the corner before he could see any more.
Garrus saw stuff like that every day here.
The worst of it was that he couldn't save everyone.
He didn't expect to.
Though, Garrus would readily admit that the brutal public beatings happened less frequently ever since he'd made a name for himself as Omega's 'freelancing, kill-on-the-spot, police officer', or more popularly: Omega's Archangel. (Which wasn't far from the truth.)
News of being executed on the spot for so much as 'beating the shit' outta the locals spread fast.
Seeing it again, even though he was aware that hundreds of others were suffering much the same way as that poor soul, made him feel like his two years spent here hadn't made much a difference.
He sighed quietly and prayed to the spirits he didn't believe in.
People were suffering immensely.
And he just passed by a lowly soul that was right in the thick of it.
Damnit.
"I've done some fucked shit in my life." Zaeed muttered with his edgy and gruff voice, "But nothing like that. Torture rarely works. Sick practice for sick people, that there." Zaeed sat back down into his seat and leaned comfortably back into his chair.
"Good men mean well." Garrus offered to Zaeed, "I'm sure you've done your share of good deeds, Massani."
"Good men mean well." Zaeed repeated nostalgically, as if he'd heard the uttered phrase a million times before. The Mercenary shook his head and disagreed. "I fancy that quote. But I don't fit that characteristic. The way I see it, and the way you see it, are one in the same, Archangel. Don't matter how many bullets are put to the cause. They're still goddamn bullets. Each end gives you an expensive bloody casserole no one wants to eat."
"Where are you going with this?"
"My point being that you and the Blue Suns, the Eclipse, and the Blood Pack, all fight to fill something up. Be that hearts or wallets. At the end of your day, someone's made a living that's actually worth a damn."
There was a long pregnant pause before Garrus spoke. "You're right. You don't fit the characteristic."
"Didn't say I liked it. But didn't say I haven't done it either." Zaeed's eyes flickered as if there was some regret behind them. In a flash, it was gone. "But I damn well have to eat and pay my fair share of bills."
"Hmph. Like your cigars. And booze."
"Damn straight."
"I've been around types like you before." Garrus growled, "And I know exactly how you play."
"Is that so?" Zaeed leaned forward with a smile that Garrus knew wasn't sincere.
"When things get too tough? When you realize you'll be neck deep in thresher shit? That's when the loyalty starts to chip away to a price tag." The turian's arms boldly crossed his chest, "I'll lend my life to a man with a noble cause any time of the year over some mercenary."
"Spout all you want kid. I've lived three times your age. I've been through more wars than you've got toes and fingers. I've killed more men than the bullets you've shot." Zaeed kept chewing his unlit cigar, "I didn't get to where I was by eyeing a bloody escape route when shit keeps hitting the fan. I do not cross on my deals. Never have. Never will."
Another long pause.
"How much did Cerberus pay you, exactly?"
"Enough to keep me interested. And enough to deal with you." The man's lips cracked into a wide split grin before letting his smoky laugh crackle into the air. Garrus knew Zaeed took their disagreement with a grain of salt. It was obvious that, as soon as the paid gunman laughed, he'd been in this argument plenty of times before. It was also apparent that Zaeed wasn't offended in the least.
But it was clear: Garrus respected the man less for his actions. But gave grudging deference for his honesty.
"How long until we're there, driver?" Zaeed asked aloud.
"Right up here, and we'll drop you off. There's a checkpoint up ahead with Aria's men sealing off the district."
"Figures. We're gonna have to get past them. And not by killing them either."
"Agreed." Garrus intoned with a nod, "We kill her men, and we're effectively screwing with Aria's operation. We have any bribe money? We need to get through without incident."
The driver nodded. "Always."
"Then let's get to it."
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The first thing John noticed was the stares.
Never had he felt more self-conscious then he did now.
Dozens of eyes staring carefully at the human striding down proudly with Tali at his side. He didn't dare break posture or slim down or curl his back in shame. They were probably more curious than anything else. Hopefully Tali was right about wearing a realk that was affixed to the top of his head.
It still felt weird.
"So. No debriefing with anyone? Not even the Neema's captain?" John asked Tali.
"No, we get about an hour or two before we meet back with him for a formal meeting."
"Why?" John asked with a bizarre expression on his face. Shepard was usually, in regards to his military career in the Alliance, used to either: emptying his brain with AARs to his superior or typing up formal AARs within an hour of executing a mission (If he or his team wasn't part of a casualty list).
He didn't really expect it to be any different with the quarians.
To be so informal like this was uncanny.
"So we get time to see our family." She answered with a small smile.
Eventually, Tali turned the corner and urged for him to follow her down to the lower decks to begin a tour of the Neema.
"Tals, you go any faster, I'm gonna lose you." He said.
John was actually surprised he didn't have to shove his way through the crowded hallways. In spite of the long stares, people still nodded and made space for the bulkier human. John muttered thank you's for every person that took their time to maneuver around him.
Which was everyone that crossed by his path.
"No you won't, silly. Come on." She shook her head at his overtly awkward politeness.
Juel, who had been following behind both of them, shrugged apologetically to the human and strode off to the hallway on their left.
"See you Tali! Take care Shepard!" He yelled.
"See you at dinner?" Tali called out as they continued walking away from Juel.
"Absolutely!" Came Juel's disembodied voice. Tali took a right and John followed.
"So you guys got showers here?"
"Twelve. Yes. But they're in the clean rooms. There's a signup roster for it if you ever want to reserve it."
"Even if I'm a human?"
"Absolutely. They're regularly cycled after every use by opening them up to vacuum. UV Radiation from nearby stars kills anything inside."
John let out a sigh of relief. "Oh. Good."
When there was enough room, John caught up and walked to her side. "Where we going?"
"Where we're going to live. You know, my room."
"You have a roommate by any chance?"
"Nope. Well, now I do."
John could see her eyes squint from her smile.
"Good. How's the bed?"
"We'll work on that." She replied, "We'll take a look at what's on the trading deck later."
They reached the ladders that lead down to the living quarters.
"Come on, huneey." She slurred with her smile. He scoffed and grabbed the ladder's footing before stepping down cautiously.
The sounds of happy laughter and soft ambience grew as they continued down.
"How many people live here?"
"Hundreds."
"You know them all?"
"Of course. We're family here, John. And you'll soon be too." They take their final step from the ladder and onto the deck flooring. John stood, ogled eyed, at the hundreds of small homes.
The first thing that came to John's mind were shanty towns dotted all over the poorest places on earth (Which, unfortunately, still existed).
But John instantly thought otherwise.
The materials the quarians used were old and worn. But unlike the shanty towns he'd just thought of, weren't amok with filth, grime, and disease. They were neat, organized, and spotless.
Elaborate clothes and curtains covered the walls and doors of every small dwelling. Hundreds of cubicles, fashioned together in clustered rectangles, stretched farther than John had expected.
But that wasn't all. These clustered hovels were installed with second and third stories; each with ladders or handmade stairs to reach them.
John even saw that some intuitive quarian had drilled smooth oblong shaped handles leading up to one home that reminded him of a rock climbing wall he'd used to climb on those stupid competitions back in Brazil in ICT.
"This is absolutely amazing." He breathed. She leaned into him slightly.
"I knew you'd like it." She whispered delicately.
"Though I wonder. Where is everyone? I thought it'd be more crowded."
"Working. We've all got jobs, remember? Anyone here is probably getting ready to go to sleep." She grabbed his hand and tugged for him to follow.
"Where do you live?"
"Right over here." They took the next bend and walked down until they met her cubicle.
As John had expected, it was covered in her iconic purple pattern.
He put his hands on his hips and looked at the curtain that covered her room. "Hope the neighbors are good?"
"Of course! You'll meet them later. The people above and three rooms down all have the same sleep cycle we do." She said happily.
"How'd you manage to get a bottom floor room?"
"Luck. Lots of luck. And a little pull from the captain."
He gave her a look.
"Okay, a lot of pull from the captain. She insisted that it was fair, given my pilgrimage gift."
"Oh my god. I completely forgot about your pilgrimage. Was the geth data good enough?"
"Good enough? People think I'm some big-shot hero."
"Well. You are." He said with a grin.
"Aha. Yes. Of course." She chuckled before pulling the curtains to the side and stepping inside
Taking a look around her room, everything was where John expected it to be. Plain, simple, and dotted with décor that would never get in the way. A small holo frame, computer, desk, bed, and cargo box. They'd have to move some of the furniture around if he was going to sleep in here too.
"Wow. You've done yourself good here. An ottoman? For stuff? How dare you. What is this? A suite?"
She rolled her eyes.
"Whatever. It's got everything I need. I've got room to spare if you ever need to put stuff in there too."
He was already looking over her bed. "So an actual mattress huh?"
"Used to be a cot. Bought a bed instead. Haven't regretted it since."
"That's nothing to regret," John mused, "Since we spend so much time in them."
A sly smile grew and she drew the curtains to dress their room in privacy. "Mm."
"It's true." He said.
She strode calmly to John and guided him carefully onto the bed.
The twin-sized mattress could barely hold them, but it didn't matter. She ran a hand down his chest and around his thigh.
Seized of breath, John returned the favor and she let out a soft moan that couldn't have passed beyond their walls.
When his hand traveled closer to her center, she hummed her delight and the frills of her real around her legs rumped from his massage.
She squeaked in pleasure and grased his arm.
He pressed a little harder between her legs. The reaction he got was all the motivation he needed to continue.
"I love you, hun."
"Uhnn..."