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A Dream Within a Dream
Part 1
Chapter 14
The Normandy
Shepard fiddled with the wiring, trying to get it to lie flat as she attempted to wrap the various strands. Cursing as it popped loose again, she huffed a sigh before shifting her fingers to grab hold of it again.
"You know your shift ended like twenty minutes ago, right?" Tali pointed out as she stood up and stretched before putting her wrench back in the toolbox.
"Yeah, I know. I'm just… Goddamn it." The wires popped loose again, and she let them go. "I just need to pass the time, and work seemed as good a way as any." She stood and grabbed the towel from her back pocket before wiping her hands.
"Excited about arriving?" Tali asked with the sound of a smile in her voice, and Shepard felt the hints of an embarrassed flush touch her cheeks.
"Yeah. A little change of scenery that's not a sim will be nice."
"I know, right? Sometimes this ship feels very small." Together, they began tidying up the engine room. "The Citadel always felt so vast, so full of variety and places to explore that were new and interesting. Not that any of that was real, of course…" Tali trailed off with a sigh.
"Yeah." Shepard nodded in agreement before turning toward the door. "I'm going to go check in upstairs, see if we have an ETA yet."
"Sure thing. Thanks for your help today."
"Of course." With that, she passed through the doors and began the climb up towards the CIC. The room was quiet, only Jenkins and Jacob at work at two of the consoles as she passed through toward the cockpit.
"Hey, Joker," she said as she stepped up behind him, and he flashed her a friendly salute, "do we have an ETA yet?"
"You're in luck. We're about to drop out of FTL in a few minutes. How about you pop a squat and get your first glimpse of the Fleet?"
With mounting anticipation, Shepard took the open seat on one side of the cockpit and took a peek at one of the navigation panels, only to discover that any interesting data had been blacked out, confirming Garrus' explanation from the other day.
"So, are you looking forward to being home?" She asked after a pause, and she looked over to see Joker's expression morph into something complex and bittersweet.
"Yes, and no. The Fleet will always be something of a home, and yet I've never felt at home anywhere other than the pilot's seat of a ship. On the Fleet, everyone serves a purpose, everyone has a job to do. Someone like me," He gestured to the braces on his legs, "they have no use for someone like me. But here?" He glanced around the cockpit with a half smile, "Here, I'm king. No one flies a ship like I can."
Nodding, Shepard could understand what he meant. She could see some of the same mentality on the Normandy. A place for everyone, and everyone in their place. If there was no place for you, she could see it being difficult to fit in. He cut in before she could reply.
"We're here." There was a jerk, and the ship dropped out of FTL. Shepard stood without even realizing what she was doing, her eyes wide as she gazed through the window.
Stretched out before her was the Migrant Fleet, a massive collection of ships, all different sizes, shapes, and styles. Some looked new, but a majority looked ancient, older than old. Some looked so patched and ragged that very little of the original ship remained. Some were not much larger than the Normandy, while some were so massive that they appeared to contain entire towns. Perhaps, in a way, they did.
"So, what do you think?" Joker asked, laughter in his voice as he raised an amused eyebrow at her. Shepard wanted to comment, to say something, anything at all, but when she opened her mouth, there were no words.
She was looking at the entirety of the free people of the galaxy. This was it. Everyone.
"It's… amazing," she finally managed, eliciting a soft snort of amusement from the pilot.
"Just wait till you see the inside." With that, he flicked on the intercom and announced their arrival to the ship. Shepard watched in awe as they approached, ships flying past as they made their way toward one of the truly enormous ships at the center of the Fleet's loose formation.
Joker began communicating with someone from Fleet Command, but the words were lost on Shepard as she watched the ship grow larger and larger. It was one that seemed impossibly old, the difference between it and the Citadel's sharp, clean lines stark and shocking. Finally, they slowed to a stop as a magnetic arm came out to attach onto the Normandy with a loud clunk!
Turning, Shepard was shocked to see nearly the entire crew assembled nearby, waiting as the jet bridge extended out toward the Normandy's airlock. Jacob and Vega each supported one end of a stretcher, upon which Jack lay in a drug induced slumber. Shepard's eyes locked with Garrus', and he smiled.
"The Fleet is impressive, isn't it?" He asked as she came to stand beside him, and she hesitated before agreeing.
"Yeah. I don't know what I was expecting, I don't think I realized how big it was. And yet…" And yet, this was it. Everyone. She trailed off, and he sighed.
"Yeah. I know what you mean." His voice was low as he looked down at the floor. A moment later, there was a hiss of air beyond the airlock door, and Anderson turned to address them.
"Okay, everyone, listen up. You've all been given your stipend, spend it as you wish. I have a meeting I will be attending, but I anticipate departing soon after. I want you all back here at the docks in two hours, ready to go. Understood?"
Everyone made noises of acknowledgment just as the door hissed and opened. They moved aside as Jacob and Vega led the way down the jet bridge. Waiting at the end was a team of medics with a gurney. As soon as Jack was transferred to it, the medics saluted Anderson before turning to wheel her down the hallway.
Anderson followed directly after them, his pace set to match theirs, with Miranda right behind him. Together, the crew tailed after them in what appeared to Shepard as almost a procession. She quickly moved to catch up to Garrus, and she noted the set of his shoulders and the straightness of his posture. Looking around, she realized that the entire crew seemed to be standing taller, prouder. She did her best to mimic them, questions spinning through her mind.
They rounded a corner into a wider corridor filled with people going about their business, and Shepard stared. The space, which had been bustling and noisy, quieted almost the instant they appeared. People spoke in hushed, reverent voices as they watched, quickly making way for their strange procession led by Jack's gurney. They watched with wide eyes and bowed heads as the crew all but marched down the corridor behind Anderson.
Shepard found the people themselves to be nearly as fascinating as their behavior. Just about every species was present, their clothing styles unlike anything she'd seen within the Citadel. Most wore old, well-mended clothing like that of the Normandy's crew, but the colors were often vibrant and many wore accessories that spoke of skilled handiwork. Two asari in beautifully embroidered shawls, quarians in their intricately patterned head scarves, a krogan in a tooled leather coat, a turian with a feathered bracelet, and a few salarians wearing beaded necklaces.
The crew turned a corner into a long, vaulted room that appeared to connect a few major corridors through the docks, and Shepard let her eyes wander as they made their way through it, taking in the sights. They finally landed on an open stretch of wall, upon which a mural had been painted, at the base of which many candles and small tributes had been laid out.
Her feet slowed as her wide eyes traveled upward, taking in the painting with a growing sense of awe.
It was that of a beautiful woman, pale blue much like the asari, and yet different. Her hands, which were held before her in some kind of human prayer, only had three fingers, much like the turians. Her forehead, though graceful, almost appeared to have something like a krogan crest. She was draped in a long, flowing white gown as she gazed gently upwards, beams of light emanating from behind her head.
"Who…?" Shepard asked as Garrus grabbed her arm, forcing her to continue onward, and Liara glanced back at her with a soft smile.
"It's a tribute to the Goddess."
"The… Goddess?" Shepard asked slowly as she gazed back over her shoulder at the painting again, and Liara slowed her pace to come even with her.
"Yes, the Goddess Athame. She was the one to free the first asari from the Citadel, thus leading to the formation of the Migrant Fleet eons ago. They also say she was the one who gifted us with biotics. Not many of those who were born within the Citadel worship her, but most born amongst the Fleet do."
"Wait, hold up. I thought humans had a variety of religions. And don't the turians believe in spirits or something?" Shepard turned a confused eye to Garrus, who shrugged.
"Sure, in the Citadel. But so much was lost when the Reapers took Palaven that we don't really know what is true and what they made up anymore. Some on the Fleet try to follow the old ways, but a majority worship the Goddess. It's part of Fleet culture."
"I see," Shepard murmured, her brow furrowed as she considered.
"She may have started as an asari deity, but she's grown and adapted with each species freed. She's gained attributes from each culture, as I'm sure you've noticed," Liara continued, her voice warm as she discussed a topic so clearly close to her heart. "She's come to represent all of us, an amalgamation, and thus belongs to us all."
"I like that," Shepard admitted as they followed the procession around another corner and down another corridor. "Has Fleet culture evolved like that in general? Absorbing aspects of each species as they're freed?"
"Exactly." Liara beamed as she nodded. "The culture here has incorporated aspects from all peoples, and yet still it's added something else all its own. It's existed, free from Reaper control, for so many generations that it has evolved its own culture."
"I'm beginning to see that," Shepard murmured as they walked under an old but intricately woven set of tiny, colorful banners, strung together on a single rope that spanned the width of the hallway they'd just entered. Upon each little flag was a symbol she didn't recognize.
As they continued through the network of hallways and corridors, she did her best to catch glimpses through any open door they encountered, her hunger to see and experience the Fleet growing more insatiable by the second. Through one doorway, she spied two quarians and a salarian bent over a work table, a strange array of glass instruments strewn around them filled with liquids in a rainbow of colors. Through another door, rows of people sat beside each other, their heads bowed as a turian dressed in white flowing robes read to them from a battered looking book, her face painted in vibrant, swirling violet patterns. In yet another, she glimpsed a couple caught in a close embrace, both of them weeping quietly as they gazed up at a wall plastered with photographs of people, some new, some impossibly old.
Shepard stopped abruptly as she walked into Garrus' extended arm, and she looked around to see that the crew had come to a stop. Before them was an arched entryway into what appeared to be a hospital of sorts. Anderson had stopped, watching as the medics wheeled Jack onward, and behind him waited his crew. Once Jack was out of sight, he turned to look them over with an even eye.
"Two hours. Then back to the docks." Without waiting for an answer, he looked to his XO. "Miranda, with me." And with that, Anderson turned and started down a side corridor. The crew dispersed, most turning to head back the way they'd come, but Shepard shot Garrus an inquisitive look.
"So? Where to?"
Garrus grinned at her as he gestured in the direction the others had started in. "You ready to see the markets?"
Shepard thought about the wonders she'd already seen in just the few minutes it'd taken them to walk from the docks, and matched his grin, tooth for tooth.
"Oh, hell yeah."
Shepard smelled the market even before they arrived. Garrus led her through the throng of people coming and going, average citizens of the Fleet moving about their daily business. The closer they got, the stronger the smell, and soon it was all she could do not to drool. Garrus chuckled and grabbed her arm, urging her onwards as she slowed, her nose in the air.
"If you think it smells good, just wait till you try it," he laughed as he tugged her onwards. Her excitement cooled as a thought occurred to her.
"How am I supposed to buy anything, though? I don't have any money." Garrus stopped and pulled her off to the side of the corridor, letting people flow around them. He fished around in his pocket before pulling out a small card.
"Yes, you do. Here's your credit chit. Anderson gave it to me to give to you. We're given spending money to use how we want during shore leave, even if it's just a short visit like today." He held it out to her, and Shepard took it, looking it over. It was strangely similar to credit chits in the Citadel. "Most people spend it on food, to be honest. But you can pick up anything else you think you might want while we're here. Not that we're given all that much."
"Thank you, that's a really welcome surprise," Shepard said with a smile as she sniffed the air again. She had no idea what the sweet aroma was, but anything sounded fantastic after living off the Normandy's rations for the last few months.
They rejoined the throng of people moving toward the market, and Shepard noticed the arched entry coming up on their right. As they turned into the market, she drew up short with an audible gasp.
It was like something out of an old Earth vid, yet infinitely more vivid and real. It was like photos she'd seen of old covered markets, the long, vaulted room packed cheek to jowl with dozens and dozens of stalls. Banners and fabrics were draped on poles over tables laid out with the most amazing array of objects and foods, and hawkers called out to passersby.
The noise was almost deafening, voices raised as people bartered and discussed, and somewhere a set of tinkling bells were ringing. She could hear the faint sound of ethereal singing and strange music, along with the sizzling of fresh food being cooked nearby.
"Garrus, this is…" she trailed off as she let him lead her to the nearest stall, her eyes wide with wonder. "This is amazing!"
He made a noise of agreement, but it was lost on her as she gazed down at the wares before her. There were beautifully knit sweaters, hand carved figurines, sparkling crystals, and finely crafted instruments. Breath-taking embroidery, pristine feathers, sparkling beaded necklaces. Painted seashells, woven rugs, soaps with smells that were nearly too much for Shepard's overwhelmed senses.
Each stall was more breathtaking than the last. And then the food…
There were sweet rolls, bright candies, glazed meat on small sticks. Crumbling cookies, spicy sausages, and some sort of steaming drink that was vibrantly blue. There were breads, cakes, sandwiches, vegetables of all shapes and sizes, and nearly all of it was wonderfully novel and exciting.
And like before, the people around them were nearly as interesting as everything else. The outfits, the accessories, the way they held themselves, the way they spoke. Children ran about, darting between people as they played, sweets clutched in their fists, their parents talking nearby. One of them stopped to call out to their child, and once they'd been summarily ignored, she gave a quick flick of her wrist, a blue glow springing up around her, and her child froze in the act of running away as the other parents chuckled.
At each stall, people occasionally passed about credit chits, but just as often, they bartered other goods and wares. Trades seemed to be a perfectly reasonable form of payment, which was completely unlike anything Shepard had ever experienced in the Citadel. All of it was absolutely fascinating. She'd never been able to travel before her unplugging, and now she could truly appreciate what she'd been missing.
To her surprise, a number of people seemed to know Garrus. At more than one stall, people called out to him, often with the same strange respect and deference she recognized from when the crew had walked with Jack to the infirmary. At first she thought perhaps all people born within the Citadel garnered such respect, but then she noticed others around them that had visible plugs and they were being treated normally. Was it just people who served on the upload combat ships? Or was there something about Garrus in particular?
"Here, try this." Garrus pulled her aside and held a small skewer out before her, a few pieces of sticky, dark-colored meat upon it. They dripped fatty juice, the striations promising buttery softness.
"What is it?" Shepard asked as she took it, the savory, decadent smell wafting off it making her mouth water.
"I have no idea, but it's one of Liara's favorites." She noticed he clutched a similar stick upon which was skewered a strange looking grilled fish. With a grin, she held hers up before her.
"Cheers!" She exclaimed before bringing it to her mouth and taking a bite. Moaning, she felt her eyes roll back as the flavor overtook her. It was probably the single best thing she'd eaten in her entire life. "Holy shit," she murmured as she swallowed, letting the taste sit on her tongue for a moment before diving in for another bite. She could hear Garrus chuckling at her, and she didn't care in the least.
Before she could blink, it was gone, and she was left licking her lips and fingertips. "What's next?" She asked eagerly as she looked around.
"Whatever you want." Garrus gestured to the nearby stalls, and Shepard considered, unsure where to start. They began to meander about the market, buying snacks and treats whenever they stopped. Shepard was halfway through a buttery biscuit when questions began catching up with her.
"Garrus," she began before shoving another bite in her mouth, "Where does all this stuff come from? The Fleet has no homeworld to gather resources from."
"You're always full of questions." Garrus looked down at her with an affectionate half smile before answering. "You're right, but we're currently positioned close to a planet. There are a number of ships whose job it is to gather resources, and this particular planet has been pretty bountiful from the looks of it. That's not always the case, and during those times, we have to rely on whatever we can farm in the greenhouses."
Shepard made a noise of understanding as she stuffed the rest of the biscuit in her mouth.
"Generally, this isn't the sort of food citizens of the Fleet eat on a daily basis. Their rations aren't that different from what we have aboard the Normandy. All of this," he gestured around them, "it's a treat, even for them. A majority of the shipboard farms are used to grow what is needed to make our rations, and what vegetables you see here are special occasion things. The Fleet has been positioned here for a few months, I think, which is why the market is so lively. Hopefully they won't need to relocate anytime soon, but they don't usually leave the vicinity of a good resource unless their hand is forced."
"By what?"
"The Reapers." Garrus looked down, and Shepard swallowed her mouthful, the taste turning to ash on her tongue. Together, they continued walking from stall to stall. "It's impossible to tell when the Fleet will be forced to relocate again."
"Is it because of Cerberus? Are they how the Reapers find them?"
"Most likely. But it's hard to say. No one's sure how they're leaking our position."
They neared a corner, at which stood the group whose music they'd been listening to since they entered. An asari sang a lilting, haunting melody along with a salarian playing a hand carved flute, and a krogan sitting nearby beat out a catchy rhythm on a set of hand drums.
Before them all was a lithe turian woman wearing flowing, nearly translucent silken fabric with an array of sparkling beads that caught and reflected the light as she moved, her body undulating with the beat of the music. Small metal disks sewn into the fabric clinked together as she moved, and her wrists and headpiece were adorned with colorful feathers, giving the impression of flight as she danced.
Shepard watched, entranced, as her foot began to tap to the catchy beat. The turian woman's facial markings were just as strange as the ones she'd seen earlier, and she realized that none of the turians she'd seen so far had any of the typical colony markings she'd seen back within the Citadel. In fact, each one seemed unique, almost like a fingerprint. But it made sense, given that the turians didn't actually have any colonies.
She turned to ask Garrus about it, but drew up short when she noticed him watching the dancing woman before them with interest. Shepard saw how his eyes followed her form with appreciation, and turning back to watch again, she couldn't help but notice the woman's exposed mid-drift. Swallowing a wave of sudden, inexplicable discomfort, she noticed how dry her throat was becoming.
"Let's find something to drink," Shepard said as she grabbed his arm and turned to leave.
"Huh? Oh, yeah. Sure."
It wasn't long before Shepard found herself considering the last of her credits, a small sack of essentials gripped in one hand as they walked. She'd picked out a scarf to wear when she got chilly aboard the Normandy, and though she'd considered a new hat as well, she found it oddly hard to part with the one Jenkins had gifted her. Beyond that, she mostly bought snacks, things that would last for at least the next few weeks to break up the monotony of the Normandy's rations.
It was nearly time to leave when a stall caught her eye. Approaching, she picked up one of the many small, delicate statuettes, bringing it close to examine. Each and every figurine was that of the Goddess that Liara had mentioned, the one she'd seen painted on the wall when they'd made their way through the docks. Each one was different, unique in her pose, clothing, and details, but each was easily recognizable. It was hardly the first stall selling objects symbolizing the Goddess, and every single time she found herself stopping to examine them.
There was something about this goddess, this Athame. Shepard couldn't quite put her finger on what it was that was so intriguing about her. But for a second, she considered purchasing one of the small statuettes, even if she wasn't a believer like Liara.
"Shepard, we need to be getting back soon," Garrus stated quietly as he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she blinked as she put the trinket back down on the table.
"Yeah, of course. Let's go." She nodded to the shopkeeper before stepping away and looking back up at Garrus. "Before we leave, I want one last of those skewers we had when we first got here." He chuckled before nodding.
"Sure, we can manage that, I think."
They made their way back toward the entrance, chatting and laughing together, stopping now and then to examine something or other. Finally, they stood before the stall Garrus had originally purchased the skewers at. An older asari stood behind the counter before a large grill, dozens of small skewers laid out over the hot coals. They were clearly divided, the levo side and the dextro side, each with a half dozen varieties.
The asari turned and smiled as they approached, wiping her soot and sauce covered fingers on her smudged apron. She seemed like the quintessential grandmotherly sort, her kind eyes surrounded with smile lines and her plump cheeks flushed with pleasure. Beneath her beautifully embroidered dress, her full, round stature stood testament to her mastery in the kitchen.
"Garrus!" She chimed merrily as she beamed at them. "Back so soon? I knew you wouldn't be able to resist coming for seconds. We need to fatten you up before you're left to suffer the sorry excuse for food those ships stock." She sniffed before letting her eyes land on Shepard, her smile widening. "And who is this?"
"This is Shepard, our newest crewmate. Shepard, this is Cecinda T'dami." Garrus gestured between them in introduction, and Shepard held out her hand somewhat awkwardly in greeting.
"It's nice to m-" She was cut off as Cecinda shuffled around the stall and threw her arms around her in a back breaking hug. Shepard stood there in shock, unsure what to do with her hands as the asari woman hummed happily. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been hugged, and she didn't know what to do with the instant wave of comfort that nearly overwhelmed her. Her throat ached with a strange tightness and she wondered how she could detach herself.
"It's absolutely wonderful to meet you, Shepard," Cecinda exclaimed as she pulled away, holding Shepard before her as she examined her. Finally, she released her and patted her cheek. "Let's get you something to eat as well, you poor dear." Shepard blinked, and Cecinda was already scooting back behind the counter. In a flash, she was back, pressing two skewers into her hands and then passing two to Garrus as well. "Here, eat up, both of you."
"Thank you, Cecinda," Garrus said warmly as he took his. "How have you been? Business looks like it's booming."
"Oh, you know how it is. Good times come, good times go. We're lucky at the moment, but we all know what awaits on the horizon, what's always on the horizon." Cecinda sighed and shook her head as she used her apron to wipe her hands again. Shepard looked back around the market, sadness pricking at her gut as she imagined the same market, but sparsely populated with only meager offerings. She'd spent nearly two blessed hours without a care in the world, completely forgetting about the utter lack of stability afforded to them and the Fleet as a whole.
Reality came crashing down upon her shoulders hard, and she let go of a long, harsh exhale.
"But we cling to the hope of a brighter future," Cecinda added a moment later, her smile returning as though it'd never vanished, "and we owe it all to Anderson." She reached over to give Garrus' arm a gentle squeeze. "If there's anything your crew needs, anything at all, you let us know. We true believers will do all in our power to assist with his mission." That last sentence was said in hushed, reverent tones, and Shepard drew in closer as her curiosity was sparked.
"He'll appreciate that, as usual. I'll pass it along," Garrus murmured with a quick duck of his head. "We need to be getting back to the Normandy. How much for the food?"
Cecinda rolled her eyes as she patted his arm again, her smile amused and exasperated.
"It's on the house, dear. Any crew of Anderson's is family here. You know that." Her smile vanished as she gazed out over the Market, a distant look in her eyes. "When he finds the Conduit, we will all be saved. I just know it."
Questions buzzed in Shepard's mind as they stood in awkward silence, but before she could inquire, Cecinda seemed to snap back to herself. Her smile returned, somewhat more strained than before.
"I just hope my old bones live to see the day. I'm nearly three hundred years old now, did you know that? They say asari used to live to be over a thousand years old once upon a time." She shook her head and sighed again. "Makes me worry for the future."
"Chin up." Garrus lifted his free hand to pat her back in comfort. When he continued, his voice was a low whisper. "Anderson thinks we're closer than ever before." His eyes flicked to Shepard for half a breath as his mandibles snapped in against his face.
"Truly?" Cecinda leaned in, anticipation in her voice. Garrus nodded, but when he declined to continue, she reached for him, cupping his face in her palms. She pulled him down and placed a loud kiss on the side of one of his facial plates. Before he could react, she'd pulled him in for a tight hug. "Goddess bless you, Garrus." She turned and reached for Shepard's hand, giving it a squeeze. "Both of you."
Soon they were saying their goodbyes as they turned to leave, and as they walked, Shepard nibbled on her last skewer in pensive silence. When they'd left behind the noise and bustle of the market, and finally she looked up at Garrus.
"What is the 'Conduit' that Cecinda mentioned?" She asked, and Garrus jumped, surprised out of his own reverie. He glanced around them, noting other people in the hallways before looking back at her, suddenly nervous.
"Let's not talk about it here. I'll explain when we get back to the Normandy," He replied quietly, leaving her with even more questions than before.
"Sure, of course," She said, and they both picked up their pace as they made their way back to the docks.
Stepping through the airlock and onto the Normandy felt strangely suffocating. The ship they'd been aboard had been so large, so airy, that it'd been easy to forget that it had been a ship at all. Returning to the Normandy was something of a reality check, and though she considered it her home, it was still sad to leave behind the boisterous energy of the market.
"Oh, hey guys!" Tali called out as soon as they boarded, and Shepard turned to see her and Miranda standing together in the CIC, both with bags from the market in their arms. "Did you enjoy yourselves?" She asked, a sly edge to her voice that Shepard didn't know what to make of.
"Yeah," Garrus started, his voice pointed as he glared at the quarian, "I showed her around the market." He held up a package to make his point, and Tali looked oddly put out.
"Oh," Tali replied with a sigh. Shepard was about to comment when a sharp siren went off, a red light flashing throughout the ship.
"Shit," Miranda hissed as she raced to the cockpit, and Shepard followed with Tali and Garrus right behind her.
"What is it?" She asked as they all packed in around Joker, whose fingers with clicking over control panels.
"It's the Reapers. Their scout found us," Joker explained, his voice tight with urgency, and both Garrus and Tali cursed. Shepard's heart leapt into her throat, fear gnawing at her insides.
"What? How?" Shepard asked, her pulse racing, but everyone ignored her as Miranda cut in.
"Tali, get down to Engineering," Miranda directed as she stood straight, her voice layered with command. "Garrus, to the Main Battery. Shepard, you assist here with me and Joker."
Without hesitation, the two others darted out of the cockpit to their assigned positions, and Shepard fell into the seat to Joker's left as Miranda threw herself into the one on his right. Joker started calling out information as the Normandy jerked and pulled away from the dock.
"What are we supposed to do during an attack like this?" Shepard asked as she peered across the cockpit at Miranda, who answered without looking away from the screens before her.
"The Normandy is a combat frigate. We'll work with the rest of the defensive force to hold back Reaper attack fighters until the Fleet is able to mobilize and retreat."
"We're going to go kick some Reaper ass." Joker smirked, his hands whizzing across the controls. His smile spoiled after a moment, "For as long as we can before getting the hell out of here, that is."
Shepard swallowed, but as the Normandy sped off alongside a number of similar ships, she fell into the comfort of her training as Miranda and Joker barked commands and numbers. Pretty soon, she looked up and saw small, cylindrical ships ahead, illuminated by strange, ominous red light that made her shiver.
"Are those…?"
"They're drones. This is only a scouting party. The big guys won't be here for a few more minutes yet," Joker stated as his eyes narrowed. "Hold on, here we go."
A bright red beam of crackling energy shot toward them, and the Normandy spun as it accelerated, ducking and weaving through groups of enemy fighters. Shepard watched in awe as Joker displayed every ounce of his skill, his face alight with exhilaration. She did her best to keep up as she called out enemy location coordinates and velocities, relayed information from Garrus and Tali, and watched for additional enemy contacts. But the data scrolled through her displays so quickly that it was nearly impossible to juggle it all.
Another drone scout exploded with a burst from their cannon, and the dot disappeared on the radar screen. One by one, the Fleet's defensive force whittled down the opposition, and perhaps it was the adrenaline pumping through her system, but Shepard couldn't tell if it'd been hours or seconds since the beginning of the battle.
A new contact appeared on the radar, and Miranda cursed. "Sovereign class Reaper detected."
"Fuck. If they haven't finished recalling the resource ships…" Joker growled as he grit his teeth, a vein pulsing at his throat.
"This is Fleet Command." A voice Shepard didn't recognize blared through the comm. "Stand by for jump, t-minus thirty seconds. Coordinates inbound." Numbers began scrolling through one of the displays, huge chunks of which seemed redacted, though still clearly understood by the ship's onboard computer.
Without delay, the Normandy spun, and through the window, Shepard watched as every Fleet ship within view did the same, all pointing in the exact same direction.
"Board is green," Tali reported over the comm, and Joker hit a few keys on the controls.
"Prepare for FTL jump," Miranda stated, the words echoing through the ship's intercom. Shepard gripped her armrest, her muscles tense as she envisioned the monstrous creature closing in behind them.
"3… 2… 1… Jump!" Miranda exclaimed, and beyond the window, for a split second, Shepard could see the winking lights of hundreds of ships making the jump to FTL, twinkling like bursting stars. Joker hit the button, and everything outside began to elongate, stretching out in the moments before the Normandy finally leapt forward into FTL as well.
Joker and Miranda both breathed a sigh of relief, and Shepard slumped back in her seat. They all sat there in silence as streaks of light shot past the window, and she lifted a hand to wipe the cold sweat from her brow.
Miranda looked down at a blinking display with a look of mild disgust. "Eight minutes from contact to jump. Not terribly efficient this time."
"Give them a break," Joker groaned as he shot her a withering glare. "With a planet like that, they probably had at least a dozen resource collection ships down on the surface, each of which they had to evacuate."
"Make excuses if you want. But every minute of dawdling is an extra minute they have to decimate our population." Miranda stood abruptly. "Send me the Fleet's casualty report as soon as it's available." And with that, she turned and left. Joker grumbled a reply, his eyes on the displays.
"Dropping out of FTL in 3, 2, 1-" There was a soft jerk, and the stars beyond the window snapped back to normal sparkling dots. Around them, hundreds of other ships began appearing just as suddenly.
"Do you need anything else, or am I good to leave?" Shepard asked carefully, unsure what else would be expected of her at that point.
"Yeah, yeah, fine. Get out of here." Joker waved her off halfheartedly, and she quickly stood, gathering up her discarded bag from the market. She hurried to the ladder and climbed down to the crew deck, where she found Garrus in the barracks, unpacking his own bag. She must have looked as wild-eyed as she felt, because when he turned to look at her, he sighed.
"You okay?" He asked, and she opened her mouth, but no words came out. "Yeah, I know what you mean." Huffing another sigh, he looked back at his hands upon his bunk. "It's the reality of the Migrant Fleet's existence. Nowhere is safe, and danger can appear at any moment. As was just demonstrated."
"How often does that happen? How often are they forced to move like that?"
"Every few months or so. They say that once, generations ago, the Fleet could stay hidden for years, sometimes as long as a decade, without being found. Now? We're lucky if we get six months."
"It's gotta be Cerberus." Shepard couldn't help the hitch in her voice as the name fell off her tongue like a curse. Garrus only shrugged. "I thought only the captains know where the Fleet is located."
"That's true."
"Then how did they find us?" She could hear the fear in her voice, and Garrus turned to look at her again, empathy mixing with something less recognizable in his blue eyes.
"We may never know. But those were scout drones, not a full attack party. If they'd known our exact location with any surety, it wouldn't have been those little drones in the initial attack, it would have been a full-blown invasion of Sovereign class Reapers." Shepard felt the tension between her shoulders lessen as she processed his words. She moved toward her bunk before letting herself plop down onto the mattress.
"What's a Sovereign class Reaper?" She finally asked, and Garrus chuckled as he shook his head.
"You and your questions. Sovereign is what they named the only Reaper we've ever managed to kill, though it took out about twenty of our ships with it. Most Reapers are of the same size and type as Sovereign, though not all."
"I see." Shepard was about to ask more about the Reapers when there was a loud clang and the ship jerked.
"We've just docked again. Let's head up and meet with the rest of the crew." With that, Garrus turned and left. Shepard took a deep breath and steeled herself before following after.
When they reached the CIC, they were just in time to see Anderson stride through the airlock, the rest of the crew on his heels. He had a strange energy about him, a sparkle in his eye like a man excitedly holding onto something precious. Miranda began to relay the ship's status to him, but he waved her to silence.
"Well done to those of you who were aboard for the attack. Send me the report and I'll read through it. First, though, clarify that all crew are aboard, and then begin departure procedures. Joker," he called out as he turned to the assembled crew, his shoulders drawing back as he stood tall, "I'll send you a course for a jump to the nearest mass relay as soon as I receive our coordinates."
Anderson paused before continuing, the air of anticipation growing as he looked from crew member to crew member, a triumphant smile stretching across his face.
"I believe I know how to find the Conduit."
(AN: I hope you all enjoyed a bit of world building! Some might recognize another major sci-fi influence I drew upon for the Fleet. Thank you everyone who has left comments, they always make me so happy!)