The Bridge Between
Chapter 4: A Fragile Dawn
1132 hours, December 11th, 2186 CE
An uncharted world
The SSV Normandy SR-2
The star's rays struck her pale blue face, and her awareness returned almost as swiftly as it had vanished. Her body instinctively spasmed, drawing in fresh air as though she hadn't breathed in days. From the pain in her lungs, she wouldn't have been particularly shocked if that were true. She opened her eyes gradually, a soft moan slipping from her lips as the sight of the SSV Normandy's bridge whirled around her.
She shut her eyes once more and raised her two index fingers to her temples, applying some desperately needed pressure. After a brief pause, she opened her eyes to discover the deck motionless. She cautiously surveyed the room, finding the CIC in utter chaos. Nearly everything not bolted to the floor had been scattered, and the walls were streaked with soot from the pillars of black smoke still emanating from the Normandy's electronics.
"By the Goddess..." she whispered to herself as she stood.
She'd witnessed the vessel in worse conditions before (she was aboard the SR-1 when it met its end, after all), but she instantly recognized that the Normandy was powerless. Not merely idle or on low power but entirely blacked out. That was new. She shut her eyes, attempting to recall the final moment before the crash.
Her memory flashed to Admiral Hackett's warning that the Crucible had been activated and his order to withdraw and head to the Exodus Cluster's rendezvous point. She glanced around, spotting the crew who were typically stationed throughout the CIC, now unconscious at their posts.
Where are we, her mind raced.
She ventured a step across the bridge toward the cockpit, and her right leg nearly gave way beneath her. She inhaled sharply as pain surged from her leg, using her hands to press on her upper thigh.
A dark blue stain was spreading across her thigh, but she pushed the concern aside. It could wait.
She endured the pain and moved toward the cockpit. She saw that the airlock door was ajar. Her eyebrows furrowed together at the sight, but that would be the next thing she'd look into. Fortunately, the cockpit doors were open. In an event of total power failure, the standard procedure would be for all doors on the ship to be locked completely open as to not trap anyone. She could see Joker and EDI in the pilot seats, both unconscious. She looked out of the cockpit windows and was left speechless. She didn't recognize the planet, but it was incredibly green. Endless green hills stretched across the horizon, dotted with innumerable trees. After months of war and living on Mars, the sight of so much greenery was a welcome change.
She leaned down and put a hand on Joker's shoulder. As she was about to check his vital signs, she felt him move. A small, satisfied smile touched her lips as she turned away from the cockpit. She was confident that he and EDI would regain consciousness soon, and if anyone could quickly assess the Normandy's status, it would be them. She focused her attention once more on the open airlock and squinted. That made her somewhat uneasy. It was quite possible that someone had awakened before her and gone to scout their location.
She preferred not to consider the other possibilities.
She moved to the opening and approached the edge. The Normandy had collided with one of the planet's forests. She could see a nearby mountainside not far from the open airlock, but she couldn't quite discern what the Normandy was resting on. She leaned out of the ship and quickly glanced left, then right. There were no immediate signs of intelligent life, though the sound of water was clear and distinct. A waterfall, perhaps? She hoped for fresh water, but there was only one way to know for sure.
She cautiously leaped the short distance between the Normandy's airlock and the mountainside, landing firmly despite the pain that surged through her leg. She took a few steps forward before the intense light of the planet's star struck her eyes. She squinted, raising her hand to shield her eyes, and pressed on. She limped along the mountainside path, each step sending jolts of pain through her injured leg. The sight of a familiar turian standing at the cliff's edge made her pause. His tall frame was silhouetted against the vibrant landscape, but his posture spoke volumes of defeat.
The scene triggered a fresh wave of memories from mere hours ago. Though she hadn't been part of the ground team in London, the image of Shepard ordering Garrus and Tali to evacuate was seared into her mind. She had watched from the cargo hold as her closest friend made the ultimate sacrifice, forcing her loved ones to retreat. The sound of the cargo door sealing shut still echoed in her thoughts. Garrus's anguished roar as the door closed had been gut-wrenching.
She approached Garrus cautiously, her footsteps deliberately soft despite the pain shooting through her leg. The turian didn't turn, though his posture stiffened slightly—he knew she was there. She stopped beside him, following his gaze across the verdant landscape that stretched before them. The view was breathtaking: rolling hills covered in emerald vegetation, crystalline streams winding through valleys, and in the distance, the waterfall she had heard earlier cascading down a cliff face.
"It's beautiful," she said softly, breaking the silence between them. "To think places like this still exist after everything..."
Garrus's mandibles twitched slightly, but he kept his eyes fixed on the horizon. "Untouched by the Reapers. No scars, no destruction. Just... life."
"This is what we were fighting for," Liara continued, her voice gaining strength. "So places like this could still be found. So life could continue."
A harsh, bitter sound escaped Garrus—something between a laugh and a growl. "Not everyone is here to see it." The words hung heavy in the air, laden with unspoken grief.
Liara reached out, placing her hand gently on his armored forearm. "Garrus—"
"Don't." He pulled away from her touch, his voice tight. "Just... don't."
She withdrew her hand but stood her ground. "We can't lose hope. Not now. Once Joker and EDI wake up, we'll fix the ship. We'll meet the fleet at the rendezvous point."
Garrus turned to face her fully then, and Liara was struck by the raw pain in his eyes. "The Crucible's blast fried most of the electronics on the Normandy," he said flatly. "It probably did the same to EDI." He raised a hand to the scarred side of his face, wincing slightly. "Even my cybernetic implants hurt. Whatever that energy wave was, it wasn't discriminating."
"We've overcome impossible odds before," Liara insisted, though doubt crept into her voice as she processed his words. If the Crucible had affected his implants...
"I'm going to the engine bay," Garrus said abruptly, straightening his posture with visible effort. "Someone needs to start fixing this mess." He moved past her, his gait stiff and purposeful. "We can admire the scenery later, when we're not stranded on an unknown planet."
Liara watched him go, noting the tension in his shoulders, the careful way he held himself—as though he might shatter if he relaxed even for a moment. She understood his pain; they all felt Shepard's absence like a physical wound. But Garrus carried it differently, a weight that seemed to bend even his formidable strength.
She turned back to the landscape, allowing herself one more moment to absorb its beauty before following him. The pain in her leg throbbed in time with her heartbeat, a constant reminder of their precarious situation. But the sight of this untouched world gave her something she desperately needed: proof that despite all the destruction they had witnessed, life endured. And where life endured, there was hope.
Tears began to well in her eyes, but she blinked them back. This wasn't the time for grief. Drawing upon her inner strength, she straightened her shoulders and turned back toward the Normandy. There would be time for tears later. Right now, they needed solutions.
She stepped into the cockpit, her heart sinking at the sight of Joker. He sat motionless in his pilot's chair, face buried in his hands. The usual wit and sarcasm that defined him were notably absent, replaced by a heavy silence that spoke volumes.
"Joker?" she said softly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.
He didn't look up, but his shoulders tensed at her touch. "She's not responding, Liara. Nothing is."
Liara's throat tightened as she glanced at EDI's empty co-pilot seat. "Is there any way to...fix her?"
"Won't know until we get power back," he replied, his voice hollow. "Right now, she's just...gone. Like someone hit a switch and turned her off."
"What happened?" Liara asked, leaning against the console. "Do you remember anything from when the Crucible fired?"
Joker finally lifted his head, revealing reddened eyes. "Best guess? One hell of an EMP. Should've knocked out the Reapers, but..." He gestured helplessly at the darkened controls around him. "We should have backup power, but that's dead too. Whatever that weapon did, it wasn't selective."
Liara nodded slowly, processing the information. "Garrus is heading down to the engine bay to start repairs. What about the others? Have you seen them?"
"Yeah, they checked on me when they came to," Joker said, running a hand through his hair. "Tali went to check on the rest of the crew. Vega headed down to the cargo bay. Kaidan's working on getting the comms back online." He turned back to his console, fingers hovering over the dead controls. "I'll be here, trying to do...something. Anything."
The defeat in his voice made Liara's chest ache. She turned to leave, knowing there was little comfort she could offer him right now. But his voice stopped her.
"Liara?" She looked back to find him staring out the front windows. "Do you think the Commander did it? Actually destroyed the Reapers?"
She paused, considering her words carefully. "We won't know for certain until we can contact the fleet," she said. "But Shepard..." The name caught in her throat for a moment. "If anyone could have done it, it was her. I believe she succeeded."
Joker's hands clenched into fists. "I should have done something. Should have waited longer, tried harder to—"
"No one blames you, Joker," Liara interrupted firmly. "You followed orders. We all did."
He didn't respond, and she took that as her cue to leave. But as she stepped out of the cockpit, she heard him whisper, barely audible: "I do."
The words followed her as she made her way back through the CIC, each step weighted with the growing realization of just how much they might have lost. The victory they'd fought so hard for suddenly felt hollow, tainted by the sacrifices it had demanded. Not just Shepard, but possibly EDI, the Geth, and who knew what else.
She found herself wondering if this was truly what the Protheans had intended when they designed the Crucible. Had they known the cost of using it? Had Shepard? The questions swirled in her mind, but answers would have to wait. Right now, they needed to focus on getting the Normandy operational again.
Still, as she moved through the ship's darkened corridors, Liara couldn't shake the feeling that the galaxy they'd wake up to might be very different from the one they'd left behind. She only hoped they'd be able to rebuild what was lost – or at least find a way to honor the sacrifices that had brought them here.
Liara stepped into the CIC, taking in the scene before her. The usual hum of electronics was absent, replaced by hushed conversations among the awakening crew. Most had remained at their stations, perhaps finding comfort in routine despite the uncertainty etched across their faces. Some were attempting to coax life from their dead terminals, while others simply stared at the darkened screens, lost in thought.
Her eyes found Specialist Traynor at her usual post, hunched over her terminal with the determined focus Liara had come to expect from the communications expert. Even from a distance, she could see the frustration in Traynor's posture as she repeatedly tapped at the unresponsive controls.
"Specialist Traynor," Liara called out as she approached, careful to keep her voice steady despite the pain still radiating from her leg. "How are you holding up?"
Traynor straightened immediately, turning to face her with a wan smile. "Dr. T'Soni! I'm..." she glanced back at her dead terminal, "...well, I've been better, honestly. Is there anything I can help you with?"
"Actually, yes," Liara replied, leaning slightly against the console to take weight off her injured leg. "I was wondering if you had any idea where we've landed. The view outside is... remarkable, but completely unfamiliar to me."
"Bloody hell, I wish I could tell you," Traynor sighed, gesturing at her terminal in frustration. "Everything's completely dead. No star charts, no navigation, not even basic positioning systems. We might as well be using sundials and compasses at this point."
Just as Liara opened her mouth to thank her anyway, Traynor's eyes lit up with sudden inspiration. "Although..." she continued, her analytical mind clearly at work, "we did make it through the Charon relay before everything went dark. That means we have to be either in the Arcturus Stream or the Exodus Cluster."
She began pacing slightly, her hands moving animatedly as she thought aloud. "Given our trajectory and the time we were in FTL before the crash, we can't have strayed too far from the rendezvous coordinates. We should still be within reasonable distance of the rest of the fleet."
Liara found herself nodding along, grateful for Traynor's logical approach to their situation. It was a small comfort, but any degree of certainty felt welcome after the chaos of the past few hours. "That's actually quite helpful, Specialist. At least we know we're not completely lost in uncharted space."
"Small mercies, I suppose," Traynor replied with a slight shrug. She glanced around the CIC, taking in the same scene Liara had observed moments ago. "Though I must admit, it's rather disconcerting seeing everything so... quiet. The Normandy's never been this silent before. It's like the ship itself is holding its breath."
The metaphor struck Liara as particularly apt. The usual vibration of the ship's systems, so constant that most of the crew had learned to tune it out, was conspicuously absent. The silence felt heavy, almost oppressive, broken only by the murmured conversations of the crew and the occasional metallic groan of the damaged ship settling.
"Have you heard anything from Engineering?" Liara asked, remembering Garrus's earlier departure. "Any estimate on when we might get power restored?"
Traynor shook her head. "Nothing concrete yet. Tali passed through earlier, muttering something about 'bosh'tet circuits' and 'complete system failure.' She seemed rather... animated about it all."
Despite everything, Liara felt a small smile tugging at her lips. She could easily picture the quarian engineer's frustrated gestures and colorful language as she assessed the damage. If anyone could help get the Normandy's systems back online, it would be Tali.
"Well," Liara said, straightening up despite her leg's protest, "I should probably check on the rest of the crew. Thank you for the information, Traynor. It's good to know we're at least in the right sector of space."
Liara had barely taken two steps toward the elevator when she heard Traynor's voice behind her, softer and more hesitant than before.
"Dr. T'Soni, wait..." There was a tremor in the specialist's voice that made Liara pause. She turned to find Traynor wringing her hands, a habit she displayed when particularly anxious. "I... I was wondering if..."
The words seemed to catch in Traynor's throat. Her eyes darted away, focusing on some distant point beyond the darkened galaxy map. Liara recognized the expression—she had seen it countless times over the past few hours on the faces of various crew members. That particular mix of hope and dread, the desperate need to know warring with the fear of confirmation.
"About the Commander..." Traynor managed, her voice barely above a whisper. She swallowed hard, still unable to form the actual question. Her hands continued their nervous dance. "Do you think she...?"
The unfinished question hung heavy in the air between them. Liara felt a familiar ache in her chest, the same one that had been growing steadily since they'd crashed. Her mind flashed back to her last glimpse of Shepard in London—determined, unwavering, and so terribly alone as she ordered them to retreat.
"I don't know, Samantha," Liara replied softly, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions churning beneath the surface. She had centuries of practice maintaining composure, but even that experience was being tested today. "I truly don't know."
Traynor's shoulders slumped slightly, though she tried to mask it by adjusting her uniform. "Right. Of course. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"
"It's alright," Liara interrupted gently. She understood the need to ask, to voice the fear that had been plaguing them all. "We're all worried about her."
Traynor nodded, attempting a weak smile that didn't reach her eyes. "She's survived impossible odds before, hasn't she? Maybe..."
The specialist's voice trailed off, unable or unwilling to complete the thought. Liara recognized the dangerous territory of false hope—she had ventured there herself after Shepard's first death, spending two years unable to fully accept the loss. She wouldn't allow herself to walk that path again, not until they had concrete information.
"Excuse me," Liara said, gesturing toward the elevator. "I should check on the others."
She turned away before Traynor could respond, her steps carrying her into the elevator. As the doors closed—manually, without their usual soft whir—she leaned heavily against the wall, finally allowing herself to acknowledge the weight of her own uncertainty.
The truth was, she wanted to believe Shepard had survived. The commander had indeed beaten impossible odds before. But something felt different this time. The scale of what they'd attempted, the raw power of the Crucible, the complete shutdown of technology across the ship—it all pointed to an event far beyond anything they'd faced before.
Liara closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. The elevator remained motionless around her, a stark reminder of their current situation. She would need to use the maintenance ladders to reach the other decks, but for just a moment, she allowed herself this brief respite in the quiet darkness.
"Oh, Shepard," she whispered to the empty elevator, "what did you have to do?"
The question echoed in her mind, unanswered and perhaps unanswerable. With another deep breath, she pushed herself away from the wall, squaring her shoulders. The crew needed her to be strong, to help maintain order and purpose while they worked to restore the Normandy's systems. There would be time later to process her own feelings about Shepard's fate.
She reached for the emergency hatch that would give her access to the maintenance ladder. Whatever answers awaited them, they wouldn't be found standing still in a powerless elevator. The only way forward was down—both literally and metaphorically—into the heart of their damaged ship, where her crew mates were already working to piece things back together.
As she grasped the ladder, preparing to descend, Liara made a silent promise to herself and to Shepard, wherever she might be: they would not let this victory, bought at such a terrible price, be in vain. They would rebuild, recover, and honor the sacrifices that had brought them to this moment. It was what Shepard would have wanted—what she had fought for all along.
Liara emerged from the maintenance shaft onto deck 3, her injured leg protesting as she found her footing. The familiar voice of Dr. Chakwas immediately caught her attention, carrying a note of exasperation she rarely displayed.
"Major Alenko, I must insist you stay put while I determine the extent of the damage." The doctor's usually composed tone held an edge of frustration.
Liara made her way toward the med-bay, finding Dr. Chakwas standing beside one of the examination cots where Kaidan sat. Even in the dim emergency lighting, she could see the tension in the doctor's posture.
"Doc, I appreciate the concern," Kaidan replied, his voice strained but determined. "But I'm fine. My implants are just acting up from whatever the Crucible did. There are probably others who need your attention more than I do."
Dr. Chakwas crossed her arms, fixing him with the stern look that had cowed countless stubborn patients before. "Your L2 implants are an experimental technology integrated directly with your nervous system. The complete shutdown of all electronics could have severe implications we don't yet understand."
Kaidan swung his legs over the side of the cot, grimacing slightly as he stood. "What I understand is that we're stranded on an unknown planet with a dead ship. That's what needs our immediate attention."
"Major—" Dr. Chakwas stepped between him and the door, her voice taking on an urgent tone. "This is serious. We have no idea what kind of damage the surge may have caused to your neural pathways."
"Getting off this planet is even more serious," Kaidan countered, his jaw set with determination. "We need every able body working on repairs." He side-stepped around the doctor with a grace that belied his apparent discomfort.
Liara watched as he strode toward the med-bay door, noting the slight tension in his shoulders that suggested he was fighting back pain. As he passed her, he paused, turning slightly in her direction. Their eyes met, and Liara saw something in his expression—a mix of worry, determination, and something else she couldn't quite identify. For a moment, it seemed as though he wanted to say something, but the words never came. Instead, he gave a small nod and continued toward the elevator.
Dr. Chakwas let out a heavy sigh that drew Liara's attention back to the med-bay. The doctor was leaning against one of the examination tables, looking more worn than Liara had seen her in quite some time.
"That man is going to be the death of me," Dr. Chakwas muttered, though there was a hint of fondness beneath her frustration. She straightened up as she noticed Liara lingering in the doorway. "Dr. T'Soni, please tell me you're not here to refuse treatment as well."
Liara glanced down at her injured leg, which she'd been trying to ignore. The dark blue stain had spread further across her thigh. "Actually, I was going to ask if you had a moment to look at this."
Relief flickered across Dr. Chakwas's face. "Finally, someone with sense. Come in, come in." She gestured to the recently vacated examination cot. "At least one of you isn't too stubborn to accept medical attention."
As Liara settled onto the cot, she couldn't help but notice how different the med-bay felt without its usual array of humming equipment. The silence made the space feel smaller, more confined. Dr. Chakwas worked with practiced efficiency despite the lack of her usual diagnostic tools, her movements precise and purposeful as she examined Liara's leg.
"I don't suppose," Liara ventured as the doctor worked, "that Kaidan's situation is as serious as you suggested?"
Dr. Chakwas's hands paused briefly before resuming their careful examination. "The truth is, I don't know. And that's what worries me." She reached for a manual pressure bandage from her supplies. "L2 implants are notorious for their complications even under normal circumstances. Add in whatever energy pulse the Crucible released..." She shook her head. "We're in uncharted territory here."
Liara watched as the doctor began applying the bandage with careful precision. "He's worried about the crew," she said softly. "We all are."
"Yes, well," Dr. Chakwas replied, securing the bandage with practiced ease, "he won't be much help to anyone if he collapses from neural shock." She straightened up, fixing Liara with a pointed look. "Which is why I appreciate you having the good sense to let me treat your injury before it became worse."
Liara nodded, absorbing the information. "The Crucible's energy pulse seems to have had far-reaching effects," she mused. "It's not just the ship's systems that have been impacted."
Dr. Chakwas hummed in agreement. "It appears that all manners of technology have been affected, including certain implants and prosthetics." She began tidying up the medical supplies, her movements precise despite the lack of power. "I wouldn't be surprised if we start seeing more crew members experiencing issues related to their augmentations."
The mention of the crew's well-being reminded Liara of her earlier conversation with Garrus. "Speaking of which," she said, "Garrus mentioned experiencing pain in his own implants. I assume he is referring to the ones used to heal his wounds from Omega."
Dr. Chakwas's expression darkened at the mention of Garrus's discomfort. "Yes, quite a few implants were used in his facial reconstruction after that rocket impact on Omega," she confirmed, organizing her medical supplies with practiced efficiency despite the dim lighting. "I'm not surprised they're causing him pain. The Crucible's energy wave seems to have disrupted virtually all synthetic components, regardless of their complexity."
Liara watched the doctor's movements, noting the slight tremor in her usually steady hands. "Is there anything you can do for him?"
"Pain management, primarily. Without functioning diagnostic equipment, I'm limited to traditional methods." Dr. Chakwas paused, her gaze drifting toward the darkened viewport. "But Garrus isn't my greatest concern."
The gravity in her voice made Liara's chest tighten. "Shepard," she said softly, the name barely audible.
Dr. Chakwas nodded grimly. "The sheer amount of cybernetics in the Commander's body after Cerberus rebuilt her..." She shook her head, unable to complete the thought for a moment. "If this wave affected implants as simple as Garrus's facial reconstructions, I can't even fathom her condition. The Lazarus Project integrated synthetic components throughout her entire system—neural pathways, major organs, skeletal reinforcements."
Liara felt the weight of Dr. Chakwas's words settle over her like a shroud. The implications for Shepard—her body riddled with Cerberus cybernetics—were too terrible to fully contemplate.
"I should have considered this sooner," Liara said, her voice barely above a whisper. "If simple implants are malfunctioning..."
Dr. Chakwas placed a gentle hand on Liara's shoulder. "We don't know anything for certain. Shepard has defied medical science before."
Liara nodded, though the gesture felt hollow. "Thank you for tending to my leg, Doctor. And for your honesty."
"Of course." Dr. Chakwas's eyes softened with compassion. "Just promise me you'll return if that wound worsens."
Liara eased herself off the examination table, testing her weight on the injured leg. The bandage held firm, dulling the pain to a manageable throb.
"I should check on the others," she said, more to herself than to the doctor. "Perhaps Tali has made progress with the systems."
As she moved toward the door, Liara paused, turning back to Dr. Chakwas who stood alone amid her powerless equipment.
"Doctor... when we do find Shepard—" Liara emphasized the 'when' with deliberate force, "—you'll be the first person we call."
Dr. Chakwas smiled, tired but genuine. "I'll have my medical kit ready."
Liara offered a grateful smile to Dr. Chakwas before making her way out of the med-bay. As she crossed the deck, her eyes drifted toward the main battery. The empty darkness within confirmed her earlier assumption — Garrus had indeed headed down to engineering. A small part of her worried about his state of mind, but she knew he needed space to process everything that had happened.
Her own quarters beckoned, and she made her way through the open doors. The sight that greeted her made her pause. The usually meticulously organized space had devolved into chaos even before the crash, a testament to how the war's urgency had overwhelmed her usual orderly nature. Now, in the aftermath of their rough landing, it looked even worse. Datapads littered every surface, their contents scattered across the floor like fallen leaves.
Instinctively, she bent down to begin collecting them. The movement sent a sharp reminder of her injury, and her leg buckled beneath her. She found herself on her knees, the few datapads she'd managed to grab clattering back to the floor. A frustrated sigh escaped her lips as she reached for them again.
That's when she spotted it — a frame half-buried beneath the scattered datapads. Her breath caught as she carefully extracted it from the debris. The image within was one she remembered well: Shepard, caught in an unguarded moment shortly after her return from death. Liara had discovered it in the Shadow Broker's files as she transitioned into her new role as his replacement.
The photograph showed Shepard in profile, her red hair catching the light of a setting sun. Her expression was contemplative, almost vulnerable - so different from the determined commander most people knew. Liara remembered being struck by how young Shepard looked in the image, how human. It was easy to forget sometimes, amid all the legends and titles, that Shepard was just one person carrying the weight of impossible choices.
Liara's fingers traced the edge of the frame as memories washed over her. She thought about their first meeting on Therum, how Shepard had risked everything to save a stranger trapped in Prothean technology. She remembered their late-night conversations about history and culture, the way Shepard's eyes would light up with genuine curiosity about asari civilization. Their brief romance had been sweet but ultimately secondary to the deep friendship they'd forged.
The image blurred as tears welled in her eyes. This time, she didn't try to hold them back. Here, in the privacy of her quarters, she could finally allow herself to feel the full weight of what they might have lost. Not just a commander or a hero, but a friend who had changed her life in ways she was still discovering.
"Where are you?" she whispered to the image, her voice barely audible in the silent room. The Shepard in the photograph offered no answers, her frozen expression remaining distant and thoughtful.