Chapter 38: Readied
Disclaimer: This author in no way profits from the writing of this story. All characters, dialogue, or other referenced material from the Mass Effect trilogy belong to BioWare.
Author's Note: This story does not necessarily follow any particular timeline and may not be considered chronologically accurate.
Caveat: I've added a training room to the layout of the Normandy which does not exist in the game—sorry, but it had to be done. Similar to the fictional location in C-Sec headquarters, this room is located on the second level between the elevator and the war room with its entrance accessible on the port side of the main area of the CIC.
Formal Apology: I was about to post chapter 39 when I recognized that FanFiction said I was on chapter 38...somehow I convinced myself that I had posted last week's chapter when in fact I did no such thing. So, happy Memorial Day: you get two new chapters at once!
#
Kasumi had been rather pleased with their attempts at practical jokes for the sake of stealth training. She especially enjoyed the mech attack—from her invisible position on the floor the woman had managed to record the big marine screeching in a most un-manly fashion when the robot first lunged toward him. Blackmail on Vega would surely come in handy at some point.
Their teacher encouraged them to practice the principles of sneaking as they continued to move around the ship and conduct their regular activities. The mysterious thief would be departing the Normandy very soon but assured them she would know if they did not practice in her absence.
They had no doubt that she was telling the truth.
After her final lecture, Cass and Vadix began making full use of the Normandy's training room tucked into a corner of the second floor. They were directed to the room by EDI after Kasumi disappeared yet again, where the AI instructed them to continue as they had begun back on the Citadel.
Cass was reminded heavily of their first assignment as she moved into the training room. Though she had never been inside this one before, it still felt familiar.
Almost like home.
"It does seem odd, doesn't it?" came the voice of her partner, interrupting the thoughts flowing through her head.
"What do you mean?" the human asked, turning to face Vadix.
He gestured around the room. "That this should take first precedence," he clarified, though not sufficiently.
Shaking her head, Cass moved toward him and the weapons locker. "I don't follow you."
She watched his brow plates clench as one mandible swung away from his face, evidence of his frustration. "I would have thought we'd focus on my training first. You've made far more progress than I have," the turian explained, lifting his arm to scratch under his fringe, clearly uncomfortable with having to spell out his own shortcomings.
Cass shrugged, hiding a smile from him as she peered through the metal slots. "Oh come on, you're not that bad."
With a huff, Vadix rolled his shoulders and turned away. "If you say so," he muttered without conviction.
Taking pity on his wounded pride, she pointed out the first of her own faults to come to mind. "Besides, I wouldn't say I've made any progress with shooting. If I continue to faint at the mere sight of a gun, we've got problems."
Her friend peeked over his shoulder at her, now hiding his own smile. "That's true. Can't have you going comatose on me."
"Exactly," she grinned. "Now, help me pick a weapon so we can practice." She swallowed heavily at the simple use of the word "weapon".
The turian moved toward her and opened a couple of lockers before settling on one firearm in particular. "This is a Kessler pistol," he showed her. "Pretty standard issue but very reliable. It's also more lightweight than other weapon types so we'll start with this one."
"Okay," Cass agreed, feeling a slight lurch in her stomach, fearing a relapse of what happened last time. Smiling at her teacher, she tried to hide her nerves.
"Cassana," he chided her gently, his arms lowering as he focused on her instead of the gun. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to."
Looking into his eyes, the woman wondered at his unexpected thoughtfulness. It still took her by surprise to be on the receiving end of such concern. Before she answered, Cass savored the moment, tucking the memory away for future moments of solitude.
"It's alright," she reassured him with a gentle hand on his forearm. "I want to."
Vadix held her gaze, searching for something beyond her words.
If he found it, whatever it was, Cass wasn't sure.
"Very well," he murmured, still sounding uncertain. "We'll do some practice and then I'll replace the cartridge with a blank so you can carry it around and get used to how it feels."
Cocking her head, the human asked, "Is that necessary?"
With a subtle lift of his shoulder, Vadix answered, "Yes. You need to be comfortable with the weapon when you're not shooting, just as much as when you are."
Nodding slowly, Cass tested the idea in her mind. At least she wouldn't have to fire it while walking around the ship. "Okay," she finally responded. "I trust you."
Extending an arm to him, she gestured for the pistol. One wary brow plate was his only pause before the man handed her the Kessler. "Remember how to load and unload the heat sink?"
After a moment, she remembered how to unlatch the small box. Cass pushed it into place, then pulled it off once more. "I can still do it," she said softly, mentally trying to encourage herself.
"Good," her partner declared. "Then grab your safety equipment and we'll get rolling. Remember, you won't run out of ammunition so just go until you get tired."
Each of them donned protective glasses and ear coverings then stepped up to the stunted tables. Facing downrange, the pair eyed their would-be targets: several black and white circles of varying sizes. Cass looked hard at the largest of them, determined to make a dent in it.
She looked down at the weapon in her hand, careful to keep her finger off the trigger. "Now you look here, Mr. Kessler," she whispered to the inanimate object, unable to hear her own words thanks to the headset covering her ears. "I've got a job to do and you're gonna help me do it. I'll probably do a shit job at first, but with some practice hopefully we can get better together. Deal?"
One firm nod later, Cass took her stance as she observed her target, lifting the pistol and taking aim. She held the gun with both hands, uncertain how best to grip it but certain she was doing it wrong. Finally she took a steadying breath, let it out, and breathed in once more.
Then fired.
The sound of the shot made her flinch, and she nearly pulled the trigger once more. Setting the weapon down, she stepped back, hoping her body only felt like it was shaking.
Immediately Vadix was at her side. "What's wrong? Are you hurt? What happened?" Cass watched his mouth form the words, though she still couldn't hear them.
Noiselessly she waved a hand in his face, fighting an internal battle with all her might.
It was only a tool.
It was a tool she was learning to utilize.
It was not something she would misuse.
No one was going to fire at her. At least not here on Commander Shepard's ship.
She was perfectly safe.
This was simply a training exercise, something new to learn.
No living things were present at the end of the firing range.
She couldn't hurt anyone else.
Vadix was teaching her to protect herself and others.
He had used guns all the time as part of his job.
He hadn't used them to hurt anyone. At least anyone harmless.
But how did he decide who was harmless?
How would she decide?
What if she made the wrong decision?
What if she hurt someone who didn't deserve it?
What if she took their life?
How would she live with herself after that?
How could she—
"Cass!"
Vadix was physically shaking her, the pads of his talons gripping her upper arms after removing her ear muffs. Her eyes were glazed over unseeingly but she could feel him, feel his touch, anchoring her back to reality. He must have been at it for several seconds, but finally something had broken through her pseudo paralysis.
When her vision cleared, Cass realized what it was: his face was less than a handspan from her own. She sucked in a breath at the unanticipated nearness just as he blew out a relieved breath. Lips parted, the woman was overwhelmed by the desire to close the distance between them.
"That's enough." His voice was as hard as flint and Vadix settled her back on the ground, his palms hovering near her form as if he thought she might start swaying again. "No more firearms today." The turian's tone left no room for argument.
Still, the stubborn streak in her had to try. "But this is what I need to work on," Cass began.
"No," Vadix said again, leaning toward her as he held her arms once more. "There are plenty of other things we can work on," he stated, his conviction like a barricade. He stalled for one moment as though he was afraid she might slip into a trance again, then he stepped around her to put away the pistol.
Cass slouched into a contrary position, folding her arms across her chest as both her eyebrows and her lips fell into fixed lines. She stared at the alien as he tidied up the range.
When he finally met her stare, he raised one brow plate in query. "Are you just going to pout all day?" he drawled, dangling the bait before her.
Rolling her tongue inside her mouth, the human tried not to fall for his goad.
But how else was she to respond?
"No," Cass answered haughtily. "I'm going to kick your ass in hand-to-hand combat." Stomping over to the center of the mat, she readied for his physical onslaught. Fists raised, feet settled into position, she let her anger stream into her body, immature though it may be.
How dare he manage her like a child? How dare he act like he knew best? She was a grown-ass woman, dammit, and she would not be treated like an invalid.
If possible, Vadix's brow plate jumped even higher, caught off-guard by her passionate response. Then he simply shrugged and moved toward her.
One corner of the woman's mouth tipped up from its horizontal vigil: the man had no idea what he was in for.
#
After several hours of grappling, the pair decided it was time for lunch. They had certainly earned it. To the casual observer, many of whom stared as the human imitating their CO trudged toward the mess hall, it would seem like she had done a completely different activity than her partner that morning. Ponytail in disarray, Cass was drenched in sweat, breathing heavily, and sporting several bruises just now beginning to color.
Vadix, however, looked like he'd been out for a refreshing stroll, invigorated by the light exercise.
If only she could have gotten in another hit after the first surprise attack.
She attributed her success to his inherently male ego, though she would never admit this to her opponent. He hadn't expected her to use such ferocity in a simple sparring match.
His underestimation of her had been his downfall.
When he had stepped onto the mat, he'd still been in "humor me" mode, and Cass wasn't about to let that advantage slip away. She'd lunged for him before Vadix had a moment to take his proper stance.
Maybe it was a cheap shot—it was definitely a cheap shot—but it made her feel better.
Until he'd flipped from that easy going attitude to a ferocity she hadn't yet witnessed in him. Begrudgingly, the woman admitted to herself that she deserved that first bruise as she rubbed at it subconsciously.
Every other bruise, however, demanded revenge.
"It's not fair, you know," she finally broke the tense silence between them. "You're bigger, stronger, and more experienced. I don't stand a chance."
Cass felt his eyes on her as she pushed the food around her plate, suddenly unwilling to meet his gaze.
"How is that any different than what we'll be up against in the real world?"
The query surprised her, shocked her enough to whip her head forward to face Vadix and his line of questioning. She hadn't expected the question, but even less had she expected the gentleness in his voice, in his stare.
"What do you mean?" she asked, her own voice wobbly for some unidentifiable reason.
Unblinkingly, the turian answered, "You weren't born into this world, Cassana. You're always going to be at a disadvantage: in size, in strength, in experience. But that's not going to stop your enemies from trying to hurt you—from trying to kill you." His breath stopped for one moment, talons clenching. Then once more, he softened. "I don't want to hurt you, but I do want you to be prepared for the bigger, stronger, more skilled adversaries that are out there. I couldn't bear it if you were injured because I…" The large man trailed off, despondent.
Her heart went out to him, despite her earlier anger. "Hey, Vadix, look at me." She gripped his arm, as far as she could reach, until he complied with her request. "You're doing everything you can, and it's enough. Trust me."
For one long moment, the alien across the table continued to watch her. She hardly dared breath for fear of interrupting his internal debate, and Cass was reminded once more how very much she cared for this unexpected partner of hers.
She resolved to prepare and protect him as much as he did her. Whatever they may face in the coming months, they'd do it together—and be stronger for it.
They resumed training after lunch, doing more of a workout than a sparring session. Vadix told her if she wanted to be stronger, this was an important aspect to that particular brand of improvement. Though she disliked the exercises, the human could feel her body responding to the effort.
Near the end of the day, she was able to convince him to teach her more about firearms, though they didn't actually 'fire' anything at all. Vadix taught her the proper way to hold a gun, and she practiced with various (empty) weapons. She learned to keep the soft fleshy skin between her thumb and forefinger away from any moving parts, as well as how best to steady the gun with both hands cradling it. The point wasn't to hold as tight as possible to the lethal tool; rather, it was to align herself with it, both mentally and physically.
It almost felt like an extension of her arm, sore as it was. As long as she wasn't shooting anything at least.
When they were cleaning up, Vadix removed the heat sink from the Kessler pistol and replaced it with a similar box colored bright orange. Then he handed the firearm to Cass along with a thick belt. "Here," was all he said as explanation.
Cass simply stared at the two items in her hands. "What am I supposed to do with these?" she finally asked when he said nothing more.
The turian turned to stare at her, as if her incomprehension were incomprehensible to him. "You've got to get used to carrying a weapon," he said bluntly. "That's the holster, and that's the weapon." He pointed each out with what seemed like obvious disdain.
Rolling her eyes, Cass grumbled to herself. She tucked the empty pistol under one arm then wrapped the belt around her waist and pulled it tight, the gun pocket on her right side. Settling the pistol into its place felt uncomfortable, like she had to bend her arm in an unnatural way to get to it.
Vadix chuckled. "Is that really how you want to wear it?"
Glaring, she held her tongue for one second. But she couldn't contain the venom. "Maybe if you weren't so stuck up about it, you could give me some direction, any at all, before you judge my incompetency." Really, it had been a long day and Cass wasn't in a good enough mood for his condescension.
He actually took a step back, as though she were spitting at him. Which, Cass allowed, she was doing, figuratively speaking. But instead of responding in kind, the man closed the distance between them and loosened the belt hugging her body.
When he touched her, Cass wished he'd never stop.
Too soon he had settled the tool belt lower, resting on her hips. She probably imagined it, but it felt like his knuckles lingered for just a moment longer than was necessary.
It wasn't long enough.
"Now try," Vadix murmured, having taken a step away from her again.
Cass blinked once before understanding dawned. Right, the Kessler, she remembered. He wasn't encouraging her sexual advances.
Unfortunately.
With a sigh, the human reached for the now-holstered gun and found it much easier to access. "Oh, that's way better!" she exclaimed.
"You're welcome," he intoned after a short huff of air, one mandible gently swinging away from his face in a soft smile. "Ready for dinner?" the man asked before she could properly thank him.
"Yes, thank you," Cass replied, hoping he grasped her meaning.
He said nothing more as he waved her forward, moving toward and through the training room door. Cass shook her head, grinning to herself as she followed the big turian. Maybe someday she'd figure him out.
#
It was night.
Or at least Cass assumed it was night based on the low lighting at the edges of the crew's cabin.
At the very least, everyone in the room seemed to be asleep.
She hoped they were asleep.
As quietly as she could, the human slipped out of her new bed and into her not-so-standard uniform: fuzzy pants and a baggy hoodie. She didn't expect to run into anyone, so she didn't think it was necessary to wear the Alliance regs. She did grab the combat boots she'd received upon joining the Normandy, along with the heavy tool belt she'd worn that evening, but waited to put them on until she arrived at her destination.
Darting out from the room, she held her breath when the doors whooshed open. The sound was so much louder in the absence of the sounds of life. The hum of the ship, consistent as it was, felt like the baseline in a soundtrack which accompanied this new stage of Cass' existence.
When the doors closed once more with the same level of noise but no other sounds could be heard, Cass breathed in again, relieved to have escaped unnoticed.
She had no idea if there was a night crew. There must be, she assumed. The ship didn't fly itself after all. But then they must also be much smaller than the day crew. Hopefully that meant she would continue to go unnoticed.
Walking on bare feet, she continued to the second floor and around the corner back to the training room. Already it felt like the most comfortable place on the Normandy. Not because it was cozy or particularly inviting, but because it was the most familiar to Cass. Having never left the Citadel, she was constantly reminded aboard the starship that she was somewhere far from home; how far, she had no idea.
But here, at least, in this shadowed hall, she could pretend like she'd never left.
Cass took a seat on a bench near the weapons lockers and tied the boots to her feet and the belt to her hips. Standing, she shifted for a moment to settle the weight to which she was slowly growing accustomed. The woman selected a set of earmuffs and safety goggles, placing each on her head, and grabbed a heat sink before walking back to the start of the firing range.
It was just how it had been this morning.
The only difference was her.
During all the time they'd spent in hand-to-hand combat practice, Cass had contemplated her aversion to firearms. She'd realized it wasn't just that: perhaps it would be more accurate to say that she detested all violence, in all its forms and with all its tools and agents. She truly believed in the power of peace, and this manifestation of force was so entirely at odds with her fundamental values that it proved too much for her mental stability.
At first this revelation made her feel weak, foolish, and childish.
She still had yet to overcome those feelings of inadequacy.
Setting the pistol and cartridge on the table, she stared at them in deliberation. "Mr. Kessler," she began again. "My name is Cassana Arvius, but you can call me Cass. I'm still pretty new to this whole gun thing," she shuddered slightly, "but I want to get better. Not because I want to hurt anyone, but because I want to protect everyone. It's not about the damage that can be done; it's about the damage that can be prevented. So that's what you and I are here to do: preserve the people who need help. Think you can handle that?"
The gun sat unmoving, unresponsive.
"I can't speak for Mr. Kessler but I can certainly handle that," a feminine voice said smoothly from behind Cass.
She yelped involuntarily, stumbling back against the benchtop.
Her twin smiled back at her, wearing dark cargo pants and a similar hoodie to Cass' own, but emblazoned with the N7 insignia.
"C-Commander Shepard," Cass started, certain she was about to be reprimanded for breaking curfew. "I didn't see you there."
Was there a curfew? her brain wondered detachedly as she tried to salute, but only managing to fall closer to the ground against the unyielding metal frame at her back.
"Well, I may not have been trained in stealth by Kasumi Goto but I have had a bit more practice," the other woman teased.
Teased?
Cass could only stare.
This suited her CO just fine. "Though, I must say, I was rather surprised to see you here so late. Might I ask why?" She worded it like a question, but somehow Cass knew it wasn't a simple request.
She settled into the ground, unwilling to meet her idol's eyes. "Vadix wouldn't let me practice shooting today. I just wanted to prove him wrong."
"Prove him wrong? Or prove yourself wrong?"
Looking up again, Cass saw that the Commander somehow comprehended what was going on. "How…?" she began but couldn't seem to phrase the question right.
Shepard smiled again, ambling toward the woman spilled across the floor. "Aside from your pep talk with the pistol, I do essentially have eyes and ears all over the ship. I don't miss much," she winked before extending a hand to Cass.
Gratefully, she took the proffered arm and stood once more, dipping her head to her superior. "Thank you," she murmured.
"Not a problem," Commander Shepard waved it off, continuing to move about the room, gingerly touching various pieces of equipment with something akin to reverence or respect. "But, as your commanding officer, I must say," she began, and Cass couldn't help but wince, fearing the worst. "Despite your good intentions, you really shouldn't be in here alone. Even the best of us can be the victims of accidents." Now she turned to face Cass, her expression both reprimanding and understanding. "I would hate to find you here alone again," she murmured.
The warning was not lost on the younger woman. "Yes ma'am," she rushed to concur. "Thank you, ma'am." With hurried movements, Cass put away the equipment that belonged in the room and moved toward the exit.
"Oh, and, one more thing," Shepard said, her tone tinged with humor.
Cass turned, unsure where this statement was headed.
The Spectre grinned wide, teeth hidden behind thin lips. "You'd best prepare yourself mentally for tomorrow's lesson. If I can guarantee anything at all while you're aboard, it's that tomorrow's teacher will be unlike anyone else you will study with. He's a real hard ass," she warned, her smile at odds with her words, as she walked closer to where Cass waited.
Paused at the now open doorway, Cass's eyebrows drew together in confusion. "Ma'am?" she asked, unsure if she was allowed to fish for more information.
One shoulder shrugged and the grin widened until Commander Shepard was standing next to her doppelganger once more. "My boyfriend," she said simply before gently shoving the woman out of the room.
Cass continued to stare at the door after it closed, perplexed by the entire conversation. The longer she thought about it, the more puzzled she became. Consumed by curiosity and confusion, she gave little thought to her noise level, walking back to the elevator and into the crew's quarters.
Ember Shepard, as well, had little thought for her own noise level. Thanks to the sound-proofed walls which surrounded the spacecraft's firing range, she and her equally stealthy boyfriend could make as much ruckus as they wanted.