Fibonacci - squiggly_squid - Mass Effect Trilogy [Archive of Our Own] (2024)

Chapter 1: Shattered and Lost

Chapter Text

She and he are whole in the beginning, hunting a rogue Spectre down with nothing but stubbornness and determination driving herself and her band of misfits thrown together by some weird kind of fate. Weighted looks and barely whispered words sit on their tongues, but they never hurtle the wall that their people’s animosity created so many years before during a war they only know by books and others’ hate. Friendship is all they can manage. Anything more is too poisoned by the things they can’t control and her unbending duty to follow the rules of a system that just as quickly turns its back on her to suit its needs.

Then she dies, her death shattering each of them in their own ways. She is reborn as a broken soldier of gears and obligation to the universe and dances at the ends of a monster in a suit’s strings. False smiles and untrustworthy ‘loyalty’ surrounds her until she finds him again, tainted by darkness and scarred by guilt and anger. They are broken, their jagged pieces grinding against each other because of the heady tension of her resurrection and his new faults, but time erodes their edges the longer they are together, the deeper they fall into each other in a time of uncertainty. By the time their pieces find a semblance of fitting in place within one another’s hollow places, they are hurtling towards something neither thinks they will return from.

His body is worn from the pain of failure and betrayal and his soul has darkened from all the bad he’s done in that time before they reunited, but she shoulders his burdens. Her mind is full of uncertainty and an existence that ends in a question, but he proves she’s alive, changed but still herself.

Love carries them, holds its hands on their wounds, and gives them the hope that time will seal their broken pieces together.

When Jana’s husband lies in her arms, his cobalt blood slipping through her fingers like the grains of sand, he says words neither truly believe, his levity falling flat and failing to keep her light of hope aflame. When Garrus dies, he takes her with him, leaving nothing but a husk driven by cybernetics and a failing sense of duty to save something for those who she no longer sees herself caring for.

The lives of hundreds of thousands being snuffed out by her hand roll off of her skin like beads of water against the unforgiving slick of oil. She is numb when the sky darkens over Earth and fill with the booming sounds of inhuman roars. Even the Reapers fail to spark a light of any emotion within her as she looks out and sees them extinguishing the lives of hundreds, maybe thousands, with a single sweep of their all-seeing eye.

The sight of Liara does nothing to her, causes no rush of happiness or hope as the asari assures them of a possible solution. A solution they find they are too late in retrieving when Cerberus manages to steal it away, but not before taking Kaidan’s life. Jana should feel regret that the last she spoke of to the man was to tersely shut him up for questioning a loyalty to her people that they all knew didn’t exist, but not because of the reason he was accusing her of.

She isn’t surprised when she and Liara fail to convince the Council to step from beneath their veils of ignorance and help a dying cause. Still, they send her to a burning Palaven in search of a dead Primarch where she instead finds a man on its moon made more for war than cutthroat, clandestine politics. His stipulation of wanting the krogan before his aid to humanity isn’t something that she can say she didn’t expect, but it does bring with it the chance to meet Wrex now that he claims to have control over a raging species.

Of course, his aid comes with its own costs and no one to fulfill the task but Jana and her crew.

Sur’Kesh is in flames by the time they leave with a sickly, female krogan and Mordin Solus in tow. Mordin has confidence in his skill to accomplish the tall task of curing the Genophage, but Jana merely nods in an understanding of his hope and moves on to the next task thrown upon her with little enthusiasm.

Even if the krogan are cured, she knows there will be no change in a species too full of ignorance and violence to understand how to live.

In the meantime, Jana is sent across the galaxy to fix a mistake she made in a previous life. She doesn’t falter in condemning the rachni when she so long ago tried to save their species. Not even the defeat in the queen’s acceptance moves her as she orders her men to flee. In the end, Grunt’s death means just as little to her as her shuttle flies from the burial grounds of both a species and the best soldiers of another.

Still waiting for the supposed ‘cure,’ she and her men are tasked with a personal mission by the Primarch. She only goes for the sake of a memory of a turian she loved and what he may have wanted, but ultimately, she sacrifices the Primarch’s inexperienced, regretful son as he tries to redeem himself and his men for his mistakes. Placing her own men above the many turians trying to further cool the animosity between turians and the krogan, she leaves the men to a massive explosion made from a bomb of the turians’ own making. It feels like some kind of karma as she stands before the Primarch and lies of his son’s true fate, claiming that his sacrifice was a regrettable inevitability instead of something that could have been prevented had she taken the risk.

The krogan female dies from Mordin’s studies, but he feels he’s successful in creating a cure to the Genophage that’s plagued the krogan for centuries. It’s all for naught, though, when Jana is offered a chance to betray him, Wrex, and the entirety of the krogan species at the promise of aid from the salarian dalatrass. She knows pulling the trigger at an unsuspecting Mordin while his back is turned should make her insides twist, but she feels nothing. She feels the same when Wrex finds out and tries to attack her in retribution, leaving her to goad him into crashing through the Citadel’s thick glass windows in his rage and fall to his death.

Perhaps it’s for the best when she learns that the Citadel has been attacked while she took the Normandy on some wild goose chase for the Alliance. Cerberus had trampled all resistance on the station beneath its fiery paws, devoured the salarian, asari, and turian councilors with its three heads, and set the traitorous Udina at the throne under the guiding hand of the Illusive Man. Any political cohesion that existed was shredded between Cerberus’ jaws and replaced by the oppressive regime that only further served the Reapers while fooling itself of its independence.

Among Eden Prime and Grissom Academy, Cerberus gorges on every settlement in sight and the people that live there. All the while, the Normandy plays a spearhead to a losing battle and the scapegoat for all the failings.

Honestly, Jana feels the hatred she’s given is well deserved. Had she cared, she’d be torturing herself more than the public currently is for her failure at saving as many as she could. The universe burns around her and she can’t even feel the flames or care that her own clothing is catching on fire. All she does is count the days until she no longer wakes from her drunken stupors in the early mornings to find she’s still alone.

She could speed up her journey to the other side where her love lies, but the metallic taste of a gun in her mouth is sour and her cowardice outweighs her hopelessness. There’s always a question of what her suicide will bring her, if it’ll be different than dying at the hand of war, so she waits and curses fate every time a bullet isn’t ‘the one.’

“EDI’s not reading any heat signatures or Reaper forces,” Joker says, his voice cutting Jana from her thoughts as her mind drifts among the stars outside of the Normandy’s windows. “Do you want me to call your ground team?”

“No.” Jana’s gaze shifts to stare at the planet below, the mossy green of its surface peeking through the thick miasma of the ammonia clouds in its atmosphere.

She can’t stand the way everyone sounds to her ears and she acts like she doesn’t notice the stares when she mindlessly stalks the ship late into the night in search of her love that isn’t there. The inflection in everyone’s voice, once they find out the source of the ring around her neck, makes her sick to her stomach and it’s all she can do to walk away from Joker before he can give her that concerned look.

She hates that look no matter whose face it’s on.

“Shepard,” EDI says through the speaker of the CIC as Jana passes and she closes her eyes at the annoying fact that, no matter where on the ship she goes, the damn AI can still talk. “With all due respect, while there may not be any signatures near the drop zone, I advise caution.”

“With all due respect,” Jana says flatly as she steps into the lift, “Shut up and remember who the commander of this ship is.”

This lifeless, useless ship …. Or is it more a lifeless, useless commander?

EDI doesn’t press the issue, knowing when to leave Jana to her silence as she rides the lift down to the Docking Bay to prep for her drop. She thinks briefly about going without her armor or helmet and just letting the ammonia fill her lungs and suffocate her, but she’s made a promise to her love because she thinks he’d be one to approve of the sentiment. She’ll stay with the Normandy until it crashes and burns or someone takes away her command.

Oh, how I’d love to give up command.

“Hey, Commander.” Vega is hesitant, his grin fading as soon as he sees the blank expression on her face and he rubs his neck nervously. “You going down? Want me to suit up?”

“Not this time,” she says as she types in her command to the armor locker and starts to remove her things and strap them on. “I’m going this one alone.”

Cortez steps out from where he’s working on the thrusters, a frown etched deep into his features. “Ma’am, I’d be happy to take you down. Uh,” he says, clearing his throat, “Not that I don’t think you can’t handle the Kodiak, just that I’m worried about you going alone down there in case anything were to happen.”

“There’s nothing down there but an artifact. I’ll contact a team to move it if I have to, but I want the peace and quiet.” She doesn’t care for the look of hurt on either man’s face as she tightens the clasps on her chest plate. “I can handle my own damn self well enough. In fact,” she says, raising her voice as she glances at EDI’s camera situated above the lift’s doors, “EDI, tell everyone to stop treating me like I’m going to break down any minute. And even if I do, I don’t need anyone trying to ‘take care of me’ or ‘worry about me.’” She turns her gaze to Cortez. “Got it?”

“Yes, Shepard.” EDI’s voice sounds more dejected than normal, but Jana’s sure it has more to do with the way Cortez and Vega seem to shrink away from her than the actual AI’s tone.

“Good.” Grabbing her helmet, Jana tucks it under her arm and moves to the weapons locker, sets it down on the bench beside the locker, and starts to go through her weapons, deciding which she’ll take with her planetside.

After a long silence and the two men have moved to hovering around at Vega’s workstation and Jana inspects various weapons and mods, she finally snaps them into place on her armor and picks her helmet back up. “Cortez,” she calls, waiting until he’s visibly stood straighter from his position with Vega trying to seem unassuming and unintrusive, “Is the shuttle ready to drop?”

If there’s one thing that the man knows anything about, it’s his shuttles. He tried once to share some wisdom and comfort about losing a loved one, explaining that he also lost a husband not too long ago, but she quickly dismissed him. Her wounds are too raw to want to bring up with a man who obviously only wants to talk to her as a way to heal her instead of sharing her pain. Just the look on his face told her all she needed to know about him trying to overlook his own loss by ignoring it in hopes of fixing hers.

She doesn’t want someone to fix her when they won’t even acknowledge they need to be fixed too.

Cortez jogs up to her side, matching her pace as she heads for the shuttle. “Yes, ma’am. Are you sure you want to go alone?”

“Very.” Climbing into the open shuttle, Jana turns back to give him one more stern look. “I’ll comm if there are any issues, but other than emergencies, radio silence.” She hits the command to lower the shuttle hatch. “Let everyone know.”

He barely hears his soft, ‘Yes ma’am’ before the shuttle’s hatch locks into place as she moves to the co*ckpit. As she sets her helmet in the co-pilot’s seat, the shuttle’s interface comes to life with the brilliant glow of colors from its console, the co*ckpit and shuttle otherwise dark. Her hands settle over the holographic controls as the Cargo Bay’s doors open to leave nothing but the Normandy’s kinetic barriers and the shuttle itself to keep her from feeling the suffocating cold that killed her once before.

Things seemed so much easier then … when I was frantically flailing to stifle the air escaping my suit and will the empty vacuum of space to miraculously have a bit of oxygen in its vastness that I could breathe.

Sighing, Jana launches the shuttle, propelling it through the shimmering barrier protecting her crew from the same fate and heading towards Talis Fia’s atmosphere.

She has to give Cortez credit for his diligent work on the shuttle. Thanks to his many modifications and studious upkeep, she barely feels the force of breaking through the atmosphere. Normal Kodiaks have a bad reputation for bucking hard from the entry into any planet’s atmosphere, but this is almost soothing, which is good because Jana hates to admit she’s actually quite afraid of heights.

Space, she can handle because she doesn’t have that feeling of gravity reminding her of what-ifs should she fall, crashing to the ground, but actually going to ground is so much different. Planes and all planetside transport leaves a thick weight in her stomach and she finds herself holding her breath even now as she watches the shuttle’s readings dance about as it automatically works to adjust itself for a gradual descent. She finally releases it when the thrusters’ readings level out to a speed she’s more comfortable approaching the surface at and the subtle, ever so slightly there tremble of the shuttle settles. She may not be Cortez, who can manage an entry like he was simply driving a skycar barely raised off the ground, but she can rest easy knowing she at least has enough control to drop on a planet without his presence hovering over her shoulder.

Jana sits back in her seat, letting the VI pilot towards the dig site of the prothean obelisk she’s after, closing her eyes. When volus ambassador spoke of the possibility of someone being able to use the knowledge the obelisk may hold, the additional prospect of the trip giving her an unintended chance at some time alone and away from the Normandy and war effort made her decision for her. She can take this exploration and retrieval mission as a chance to catch her breath and simply let her mind drift without any intrusion.

Even though she’s hollow and her facade is cracked, no longer affected by the war and inevitable end of civilization, she has a small flicker of guilt reminding her that there are still a handful of people deserving of her attempts. She can go through the motions - live with the failures until those few no longer need or want her - if it means that they have even a small bit of hope that what they’re doing in this fight might pay off.

Who knows? Maybe I can lengthen the fight long enough for people to put their things in order, settle any grievances, and find comfort in their loved ones instead of simply being snuffed out before any realization sets in ….

She’s jerked out of her thoughts by a clatter in the back of the shuttle’s cargo hold and she sighs, rubbing her thumb and forefinger above her brows. She wants peace, but all she gets is someone sneaking into the shuttle under a false sense of concern for her and her sanity.

“I know you’re back there,” she says, giving a last glance at the console to make sure the VI has control of the descent before shifting in her seat to look back into the darkened reaches of the shuttle. “I thought I made it pretty damn clear I didn’t want anyone coming along.”

A few more clanks of something metal, yet small, against the shuttle’s floor fill the tense silence before someone steps out from behind the barrier between the personnel area and actual cargo compartment. Immediately, she recognizes the shadow as the person steps into the low light and Jana’s expression softens, mask showing its cracks and chips to the only one she feels she can trust.

“Tali,” she says, frowning in confusion. “What are you doing in the Kodiak?”

“I had a … program running … down in engineering.” The hesitance in her voice gives Jana a clue as to what that programming might be for …

Now that he’s not here to calibrate them himself ….

Tali’s hands fidget before she motions a thumb over her shoulder. “So I thought I could come down here and work on the automated ‘sink storage so it has a better reading of its remaining supply.” She shifts on her feet, avoiding any kind of eye contact with Jana. “I’ve noticed it’s been off by a couple of heat sinks and I just thought ….”

“It’s fine,” Jana says, tone softer than she’s been using on the rest of the crew as she adjusts herself back in the pilot’s seat. “Thanks for keeping it accurate. Never know ….”

“Jana.” Tali’s the only one - alive … - who can call her that, and with a note of concern in her voice as well. She steps into the co*ckpit but doesn’t sit. She simply takes Jana’s helmet and holds it between her hands, tilting and turning it as if to examine the pockmarks and large patches of missing paint Jana hasn’t felt the need repaint to keep it pristine.

It works, so why bother looking pretty?

Sighing because she knows basically what Tali’s going to say, Jana shakes her head and glances at her friend. No, not her friend. Her sister basically, one she’s never had and more family than her own mother, Hannah.

“I know what you’re going to say-”

“But I’m still going to say it,” Tali interrupts, stroking her thumb over the visor of the helmet before finally looking to Jana. “I care about you … and I’m worried.”

Scoffing, Jana crosses her arms as the shuttle lifts its nose to align it with the thrusters to begin its landing. Everyone says the same thing, that they care and they worry.

Glancing at Tali tells a different story than the one Jana’s been seeing, though. She can’t see her friend’s face, exactly, but she can tell from the focused look in her eyes and her lowered shoulders that the words are true, the sentiment fully felt. Tali never looked at her with sympathy after she lost Garrus, but with complete empathy.

Perhaps it’s because Tali lost not only one friend, but two. Not just any friends, but those she considered her own family, who she admitted to feeling so connected to that she’d expose herself to sickness just to experience the closeness of linking suits with them. Jana and Garrus were there for her when they found her father, when they lied to keep his actions secret and not destroy his place of honor in the quarians’ annals, and when they later grieved for not just a lost father, but for the loss of what could have been in Tali’s life.

She was the only one to seek me out after. Not because she had empty platitudes, but because she wanted to get drunk, help me find a dark, safe place, and cry until our entire bodies felt the physical pain to match our emotional ones.

Admitting to herself that she really does want to do good by her friend, to hold her pieces together long enough to give her a fighting chance, Jana looks out of the window to a darkened dig site, void of any life besides the two of them. The air is thick and rolls along the ground, but it’s the flicker of lighting in the dense clouds overhead that draw her attention as they bolt from cloud to cloud in a brilliant flash. She can see them spread across the sky with their deadly and deceptively delicate looking fingers. If the sky could live, the lightning would be coming to life with the beat of its heart that can be heard seconds later as loud, booming thunder.

“I know you’re worried,” she finally says, closing her eyes. “But I really don’t care.” She pauses, feeling the hurt radiating off her friend even without needing to see her face. “I can’t, Tali …. I try, but I can’t.”

Where she’d hear most say, ‘He wouldn’t want you to give up,’ she instead hears the gentle tap of Tali’s hand coming to rest on her armored shoulder.

“I just ….” Jana’s voice falters and she swallows heavily, images of a happier time dancing in the darkness behind her closed eyelids. Her hands fist on her lap and she can hear her gloves creak. “I don’t know how to keep going …. I hate it when I wake up every morning because I know I’m still alive ….”

Without giving Tali a chance to speak, Jana opens her eyes and stands. She needs to move, even if it’s just the short distance within the shuttle. Tali doesn’t get in her way as she paces, but does watch Jana carefully, as if waiting for the moment she needs to catch the pieces when she finally crumbles. She almost moves closer when Jana suddenly stops, but lets Jana have space as she drops her head into her hands and taking a single, heaving breath.

“I would give anything to have him back,” she says into her hands, not sure if Tali’s heard her. “And I know I should be ashamed of that … of being willing to throw everyone else’s lives away just for him, for my selfish wish … but ….” She lifts her gaze to Tali only steps away. “But I don’t care about anyone else ….”

A lesser person would flinch from the very realization of meaning so little to someone as close to them as she and Tali are, but Tali doesn’t.

Because she understands ….

Instead, Tali sets Jana’s helmet down and moves closer, wrapping her arms around Jana even as she drops her head in her hands once again. She hums something obviously musical, but alien, as Jana’s dam breaks, her last barrier shattering under the pressure, and sobs in her friend’s arms. Tali doesn’t speak a word, only hums her soothing song, but her voice wavers in her own sadness and it only further weighs down on Jana. Both women slip to the floor of the shuttle, in each other’s arms as tears of distress, regret, pain, and hopelessness fall from their eyes.

“I just don’t have it in me anymore ….” Jana’s breath is shaky as she rests her head on Tali’s shoulder and Tali does the same, though Jana’s sure her armor makes it difficult. “I know what everyone’s thinking … ‘this isn’t what he’d want,’” she says with a mocking whine to her voice, not yet being told those words, but hearing them behind everyone’s sympathies. “f*ck what he’d want …. He’d want to be alive, is what he’d want ….”

“I know.” Tali sits back enough to cup Jana’s face so they lock gazes. “You don’t have to be Commander Shepard anymore if you don’t want.”

Frowning in confusion, Jana tilts her head slightly. “I can’t just give up …. What about you-”

“I can keep going,” Tali interrupts, finally releasing Jana’s face once she figures she has the other woman’s attention. She takes Jana’s hands in hers and squeezes them. “I’m a grown quarian …. And I have a shotgun.”

The light tone to Tali’s attempt at levity startles a huff of laughter from Jana and she dips her head, shifting her hands to give Tali’s a squeeze in return. “Yeah … I guess you do ….”

A sudden flash of light brightens the shuttle with a blinding light and deep bellow of thunder that feels like it shakes the shuttle - which it might have - gives Jana the last boost she needs to tuck this away for later and remind her that it’d be best if they at least find the obelisk before the obviously heavy storm hits.

“I guess that means we’re heading out, trying to get to that obelisk before we get caught in the worst of it,” she says as she uses one of the seats as leverage to get to her feet. She offers a hand to Tali and tries to smile when she gives Jana’s hand a tight squeeze once she’s standing and just before releasing her.

“Yeah ….” Tali turns to the hatch’s controls and waits for Jana to get her helmet on and sealed, giving the go ahead with a nod. “I want to send out Chiktikka to scan the area …. You know, just in case.”

Jana nods as the hatch swings open with a loud grinding of its metal hydraulics. “Good idea. ‘Complacency breeds disaster.’”

Tali’s drone flickers to life before taking off quickly, its glow illuminating the haze as it passes. “Where’d you hear that?”

“I don’t know,” Jana lies, knowing full well it’s something she drilled into her own head those six months on Earth with nothing to do but stand at attention as she was condemned for following orders that were never officially existed. “Come on.”

Closing the hatch behind them to keep the amount of ammonia from seeping into it to a minimum, Jana reaches over her shoulder for her assault rifle and takes it in hand. She jerks her chin towards the dim light of Tali’s drone when their eyes meet and silently motions for Tali to walk ahead of her. With the haze as thick as it is, it’s safer for Tali to use Chiktikka’s scans of the ground instead of blinding following the light it emits and Jana will take up the rear, sticking close enough to Tali to defend the quarian as she walks with most of her attention on her omni-tool and its readings.

“It isn’t too far,” Tali says, glancing up ahead before nodding and pointing, but at a slight decline. “There’s a small crater where they’ve been digging, but my readings say it’s there.”

“Sounds good.” Jana squints her eyes, trying to see if she can see any sign of the obelisk through the dense haze. “Can your readings tell if it’s prothean?”

Tali hums, stopping suddenly as she taps at her tool. Jana takes the moment to step beside her friend and look around, noticing that the fog seems thicker ahead and she can’t even catch the sparse glimpses of ground that peek through the shifting haze. It makes her think that perhaps they’ve reached the edge of whatever decline in the ground Tali’s readings are picking up on.

Suddenly, the bright orb of Tali’s drone slices through the haze, moving upwards towards them to prove that, sure enough, they stand at the edge of a downward angle. It pierces the haze well enough to give them a look of the ground and Jana is at least relieved to see that the slope isn’t as drastic as she was fearing, so not being able to see their feet shouldn’t hinder their progression too much if they remain cautious. Perhaps the denseness of the fog is affected by the obelisk in some way.

“Chiktikka can lead us through all this fog.” Tali stands beside her glowing drone, closing her tool to exchange it for her shotgun. It seems neither of them truly like walking into the unknown without at least something at hand to give them the feel of control.

Jana simply nods and Chiktikka begins to move, slower so the two women can keep up with its pace despite their having to adjust to trekking down the decline. There’s a sense of urgency with the rumbling thunder above and beginnings of some solitary sprinkles of rain, but they have to take it carefully to limit any possible injury. The last thing Jana needs is for one of them to break an ankle trying to run an errand for Hackett so he can try and use the obelisk for his doomed Crucible project somehow.

Jana’s boots skid a bit on some smaller rocks and she hears Tali curse when something gives under her own foot, but they manage to shift their bodies to keep from tumbling, tilting so that they lean into it with their sides instead of taking a frontal approach. Without looking down, Jana can begin to tell the shift in the ground beneath her feet by the sounds and growing firmness of whatever layer of hard material encased the prothean obelisk.

“It should be right-” Tali’s voice cuts off as she gasps and waves at the fog in front of her mask. “I see it!”

Holstering her rifle back onto her back, Jana steps down onto ground that seems to finally level out and begins to walk towards the unnaturally straight shadow in the fog. Tali is right behind her, obviously still wary of prothean artifacts after all the time they’ve been together and everything they saw on Ilos. Gradually, the haze thins enough to reveal what as to be the obelisk.

Standing taller than the beacon on Eden Prime, it has four sides that gradually come together until they form a small pyramid at the top with its point above its exact center. Although it still needs some cleaning off from the few caked on pieces of mud here and there, Jana recognizes the shimmery, almost black of its surface. The shimmering symbols and - she guesses - prothean script along its surface seem different though and she almost lets her curiosity get the better of her and reaches out to touch it, but stops herself.

I remember the last time I messed with anything prothean …. And its shining means it’s active.

“Radio the Normandy and tell them to get Liara on the comm,” Jana says, turning to Tali and tilting her head towards the obelisk. “This thing is active and could be dangerous.” She scoffs and her gaze drifts back to it. “They always seem to be.”

A bright flash of light surrounds them and Jana lifts a hand to cover her eyes, not hearing anything if Tali has spoken. The thunder roars, louder than even the Reapers and it makes her ears ring and the ground shakes with such force she swears she can feel it breaking apart beneath her feet.

She knows she should be afraid of the sudden weightlessness and blinding, white light surrounding her or the odd warmth seeping beneath her armor, but all she can think of is how thankful she is that it’s finally happened. She just hopes Tali wasn’t caught in it with her, though.

Tali deserves more than a death possibly brought on by Jana’s intense will for it all to end.

“Jana ….”

Chapter 2: Where Are We?

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: Where Are We?

"Jana…."

It's a voice. Not cold from death, but as vibrant and alive as the day they met, as the day she heard him say 'yes.'

The soothing scents of worn leather, gun oil, and heated metal surround her in a way she hasn't experienced in what seems like a lifetime. She feels that, for the first time in a long time, her blood begins to flow once more, bringing life to a dead and broken heart as his presence wraps itself around her like a warm, weighted blanket.

Opening her eyes, her mouth falls open in wonder at the sight that stands before her, a visual embodiment of hope and love. Tears burn at her eyes as her bottom lip trembles, her body frozen in the presence of her lost love, seemingly freer now that he no longer wears the burden of the faults in his life.

"Garrus …" she whispers, stumbling to take a step towards him as she lifts a hand, needing to touch him but hesitant to shatter the mirage if it's nothing more than the last vestiges of a dying mind.

He smiles - actually smiles - and his rumbling subvocals sound so real as he closes the distance between them and breaks the tension of what-ifs by taking her hand in his. "Jana."

His purring tone caresses her skin as she finally lets the tears fall and rushes into his arms. He isn't in armor, and she knows that should be proof enough that this isn't real, but his clothes are so warm from his body heat and soft against her cheek as she presses it against his chest. She can feel the vibrations of his soothing subvocals and she merely clings to him for a moment until she can no longer stay silent, the words spilling from her lips in a flood.

"I'm so sorry, Garrus. I'm so sorry …. I love you …. I miss you. I miss you so much …. I can't do this. I can't …."

He steps back, hands sliding down her arms to take hold of her own. He smiles, though it's so sad, and she finally has a chance to look him over through her tears.

No longer wearing that damned bandage, the right side of his face is instead covered in ropey scars. It's a stark reminder of the pain he's been through, but they don't physically seem to bother him as he cups her hands to his face and nuzzles her palms, turning his head to kiss each one.

"It's okay," he says softly, thumbs stroking her wrists as he holds her hands to his face a moment before lowering them but still keeping them in his grasp. "You don't need to apologize …. For any of it."

The realization that he could see her failing so miserably from the afterlife makes her duck her head in shame, but he stops her with a knuckle under her chin and press of his forehead to hers. They stand like this, hand in hand as she closes her eyes to soak in the sensation of his touch after so long. She can still feel her own life weighing on her shoulders, but he seems so much lighter like this, in whatever state he exists in now.

He presses his chin on the top of her head and pulls her in, a hand cupping her head and the other splayed across her back. Her hands fist into his shirt as she fills her lungs with his scent, lets her mind take in the very sounds of his breathing and subvocals and the weight of his touch. She wishes he'd touch her where she could feel the rough calluses on his ungloved hands, but he doesn't move, simply holding her against him as close as their bodies will allow.

"Garrus," she finally says, the need to know why he never brought up something she only found out about after his death nagging at her very soul, "Why didn't you …." She swallows and takes a step back, frowning up at him at the hurt she still feels since finding out about a supposed turian custom after it was too late to ever perform. "Why didn't you mark me? Leave a scar so I could remember you by?"

Running a strand of her red hair around a finger, he tilts his head with a saddened smile before cupping her cheek. "You don't remember me by the ring I gave you?"

Eyes widening, she scrambles to fetch the chain her ring hangs from as a constant reminder of their union. "Of course I do! I never take it off!"

She holds it up for him to see and he purrs with a soft smile as he hooks a finger under the chain to hold the ring up to look at it. "I made sure it had parts of both of us in it," he says before giving it slack so she can gaze at it. "Metal from Palaven and a pearl from Earth."

The ring is simplistic, a simple gold metal woven around a large pearl in the perfect size for her finger. She didn't initially understand the reason for a pearl until he explained the value his people put on things from the oceans, their natural fear of the water making anything worth the risk valuable in their eyes. He said it was a piece made of parts from both of them, but when she looks at it, all she sees is him and his apparent opinion of her worth in his eyes.

"I love it. I will always love it …. I just …." Frowning, she looks over his face, trying to understand his thoughts that night.

He hums, the sound almost sad as he caresses down her cheek and stops with his hand over the crook of her neck and shoulder - where a scar of his bite should be. "This is for someone who can love you in all the ways I never would've been able to."

Jana feels the sharp sting of hurt in her chest as she blinks away more tears, but when she opens her mouth to speak, to ask just what the hell that's supposed to me, he shifts his hand back to her cheek and strokes his thumb across her lips.

"Let someone love you, Jana. And let yourself love again." A deep thrum echoes from his chest as he leans down and presses his mouth plates to her forehead, voice soft, yet warm with emotion. "I would've never been the turian you deserve, but there's someone out there who can be, who can make you happy in all the ways I would never have been able to. He's the one who deserves to leave a permanent mark of his devotion on your skin."

She jerks back to look into his eyes, a deep scowl etched into her features at the seeming betrayal in his words. What she feels for him is special and she can't stand to hear his opinions on how little he would have been able to do for her had they had the chance. "Don't talk like that, dammit," she hisses, clenching her jaw against the pain. "I love you. I'll always love you-"

"I know," he interrupts, smiling as he covers her hand gripped tightly around her ring. "Keep this in memory of me, but don't let it be an anchor. Go out there and live, and love …." Purring, he presses his forehead to hers before giving her lips a soft press of his mouth plates. "I'll be right here when you need me."

"I need you now," she whispers, eyes closing as she tries to lift on her toes to catch him for another kiss, a deeper one to feed that hunger for his love.

"Jana …."

Clenching her eyes shut hard enough to see blossoms of colors behind her eyelids, Jana groans at the full body ache that pounds with the beating of her heart. Her ears ring and her skin is on fire as if whatever blinding light engulfed her has set her ablaze, ripped her apart, and then slammed her back together. The pain of waking up on the operating table with Miranda yelling at her through the intercom doesn't even match up to what she's feeling.

"Jana," a familiar voice says, urgency in its tone as the owner shakes her lightly by her shoulder. "Are you okay? Keelah, please be okay …."

"'M 'kay." Jana's voice is hoarse and she has to cough to clear her throat, hoping it'll also help to clear her head. She cracks her eyes open and sees Tali hovering above her, the dark sky behind her reminding Jana of the very possible fact that her condition might have been the result of being struck by lightning.

My luck is I wouldn't actually die from it ….

"I'm okay," she tries again, clawing her way through the haze in her mind as she forces her stiff limbs to push herself into a sitting position. "What happened?"

"I don't know. There was a … like an explosion …. When I woke up …" Tali says, pausing to look around and Jana finally gets the chance to take in their surroundings.

"What the hell …."

The first thing she notices is the lack of sickly green of Talis Fia, from the ground and thick smog crawling across it to the very clouds above. Instead, there is an expanse of bright white snow scattered across large hills made of dark stone and rich earth, the occasional sprout of winter foliage peeking through in small patches of color. Mountains rise up in the distance beneath a sky darkened by the thundering clouds of a storm that's in that state of just before its first peppering of rain. Gaze drifting over their immediate surroundings, she sees an obelisk much like the one on Talis Fia, only clean and pristine.

"Come on, you bosh'tet."

Glancing at Tali trying to activate her omni-tool, Jana sees a group of people running up on their position behind her, coming from the direction of what looks like a stone structure. She can't believe she's thinking it, but her initial thought is that they've somehow found themselves on the set of a movie filming some kind of ancient medieval film. All three of the people - two humans and an asari - are approaching fast and Jana has only a moment to exchange a glance with Tali before they both jump to their feet and grab at their weapons.

"Hold it right there!" Jana shouts, sighting down her assault rifle with a scowl at the four as they come to a grinding halt. They don't raise their hands, though, and instead glance at each other, looks of confusion clear on their faces. When their eyes all settle on one man, she comes to the conclusion that he's their leader of sorts. "Raise your hands and explain what the hell's going on here."

With her adrenaline evening out and the pounding in her head dulls enough for her to truly think, Jana blinks rapidly as she takes in the group, shock quickly overtaking her. Although she doesn't recognize the man in the center of the four, shedoesknow the other two, but they shouldn't be here, standing right in front of her.

Liara and … andAshley….

Liara, she could possibly see involved in some sort of ruse or even a hallucination, but Ashley shouldn't be here. Ever since dying, Jana hasn't had a nightmare of the woman she left to die on Virmire, her mind finally coming to terms with the loss and ruthless calculus of the order in light of even worse horrors. Part of her even feels like she saved Ashley from the Collectors when she had met Kaidan on Horizon, and ultimately watched as he was brutally murdered a year later.

Dying in a sudden flash from a bomb seems so much better than having their head slammed against a shuttle until unconsciousness finally saved them from the agony.

"What …." Jana's voice is soft as she adjusts her grip on her rifle, fidgeting a step as she throws a quick glance at Tali. "Okay …" she tries again before swallowing and giving her head a slight shake. "Okay, just what thef*ckis going on here? Liara? You have two seconds to explain."

Again, the two she recognizes turn to the man she doesn't and he's the first to slowly raise his hands, though he doesn't seem to understand the reason. His actual, metal armor clinks softly as he moves and the golden bird spread across his torso armor catches even the slightest bit of light like some kind of mystical bird about to take flight from his chest.

"My name is Jon Shepard," he says, voice firm, yet gentle as he tries to diffuse the situation. "I'm not quite sure what's going on, but I can promise you that we can explain as best we can … but right now we need to get past. The situation is dire and someone may be getting away with some very valuable information as we-"

A loud scraping of something that sounds like stones sliding against each other catches all of their attention and Jon's expression hardens as he glances over to this armored Ashley before moving to Liara in some kind of either white and black robe - or dress - with a very light version of armor on her upper body and arms. Jon's eyes take in Jana and Tali once more before he speaks to his men.

"Liara and Ashlin, take each side and see what that noise was." Dropping his arms, his gaze moves over Jana and Tali, examining them closely. "I don't know who you are or where your loyalties lie, but if it's with Cerberus-"

"I don't work for Cerberus," Jana says, her tone terse at yet one more person trying to accuse her of working with the damn terrorists. She quickly watches Liara and Ashley -why the hell did he call her something else? A nickname I don't know about maybe?- before flexing her hand to lay her finger on her trigger. "Liara …." The asari pauses at her words before Jana speaks again, sights still on Jon, their 'leader,' should anyone try anything, "I told you to explain yourselves."

"I don't …."

"I don't think Liara is who you think she is," Jon says and looks up at the obelisk behind Jana before back to her. "Please … put the crossbows down …."

Jana'e eyebrows raise in surprise as she fumbles at the absolutely absurd statement, but doesn't get a chance to speak when she hears that scraping once more, this time much louder to the point she can pinpoint it coming from behind her and Tali. She spins to take in the source just in time to catch awomanjumping from where she was obviously clinging to and hiding on the other side of the obelisk. The woman - who looks a lot like the android that killed Kaidan and took off with the information from the Mars Archives - flings herself towards 'Ashlin,' toppling the much taller woman to the ground before she can draw her …sword?

"Ash!" Jon shouts as he moves fast, rushing past Jana and Tali as they draw his own 'weapons,' a golden sword and a shield with a sun design made of metal inlaid in its surface.

The woman claws with fingers where the skin seems to be peeling back to show some kind of stone and uses her fists to smash down against Ashlin's charcoal armor, leaving large dents in the actual metal over her chest as Ashlin struggles to throw her off. Something about the attack makes Jana believe the attacker is just as inhuman as the one she tried to stop on Mars before it killed Kaidan, but instead of metal, it seems to be some kind of rock or similarly earthen material.

Without further question of the situation - that can come later - she raises her rifle and pulls the trigger. If these people look like Ashlin and Liara despite the presence of this unknown 'Jon,' then Jana isn't going to stand by and watch one of them be murdered when she at least has the chance to help.

Only, when she pulls the trigger, nothing happens. Instead of giving that slight jerk in her hands as it fires heated pieces of the metal, her assault rifle doesn't do anything. She hears the click of her trigger, but her weapon doesn't even give that small whirring of something being wrong in its mechanisms, whether from lack of maintenance or damage, and she scowls at the stupid thing. The sound of Tali's soft cursing at her own weapon malfunctioning only urges Jana on as she drops her assault rifle to take her pistol off her hip and try the same.

Sighting down between the two strangers as they try to pry the inhuman thing from Ashlin, Jana pulls the trigger once more.

Again, nothing happens and she growls, clenching her jaw as she pulls the trigger three more times.

"f*ck!"

"Coming through!"

A loud yell and pounding against the ground gives Jana just enough warning to move, instinct kicking in. Just as she and Tali jump out of the way, her mouth falls open in surprise at the sight of ahorsecharging past. Even more shocking is that it'sVega- or, as she's come to find in this situation, someone like him - riding the massive horse as it runs past and rams into the creature attacking Ashlin just as it rises high enough off of Ashlin to probably launch a more devastating attack.

The horse crashes into the creature, thankfully stepping over Ashlin's body as it throws the attacker. The woman that clearly isn't human crashes into the obelisk with a loud thud but Vega's horse keeps running, turning around a distance away to most likely take a position to charge once more. Vega too is in armor definitely not made to suit the needs Jana's can - which doesn't seem to be worth much given how guns appear to be a complete mystery to these people while hers and Tali's own don't work - and he pulls a giant hammer large enough to be meant to be wielded by both hands from his back.

The thing that had been attacking Ashlin stands and Jana finally gets a good look at it, its body made ofrockbeneath the tattered clothes and 'skin.' A faint glow emanates from what looks like natural cracking not from any possible damage the toss had done as well as something carved into its body.

Jon, his sword actually glowing at the handle with a bright, white light, closes in on the figure. He blocks a powerful punch of its hands with his shield before retaliating with a swing of his sword against its shoulder. Liara draws a staff from where it sits on her back, it's head shaped like a beautiful flower that glows as well as she twirls it before swinging it towards the fight and the creature stumbles, giving Jon a opening to bring his sword down heavily against its neck.

Tali grabs Jana's elbow to get her attention. "My omni-tool isn't working …. And they aren't even making a dent on that thing."

Jana nods, seeing Tali's panic in her eyes, and feels around her person for something that might be useful in this place. If their guns and omni-tools don't work, then there doesn't seem like much else would. That is until Jana finds her grenades.

"Stand back," she tells Tali as she starts to rush ahead to close the distance between herself and the others, trying to get close enough to get their attention. "Get away from it!" she calls out, hoping to be heard from the heavy thumping of Vega's horse as it closes in. "I can take it down!"

If this damn thing isn't a dud like all my other stuff ….

Liara immediately hears, closer to Jana than the others, and her eyes widen at the grenade in Jana's hand, clearly picking up on its danger even if she may not recognize it for what it is. She too calls Jon to break away from the creature and he takes only a moment in between loud crashes of his weapons against his opponent's solid body before he glances their way during a block of his shield.

"Get away from that thing!" Jana holds up the grenade for him to see before pointing towards Vega quickly closing in. "He'll drop it and I can finish it off!"

Jon doesn't hesitate, nodding his apparent understanding as he uses his shield to shove the creature and throw it off balance. He jumps away from it just as Vega rams into it with his horse just before swinging his hammer down to completely down it. Jana waits just long enough for Jon and Vega's horse to clear the way before throwing her grenade, hitting the thing just as it's standing to charge again.

The group seems to hold their breath for the few seconds of the grenade's fuse before it explodes with a loud boom, sending small rocks and dirt into the air and immediately melting the snow gathered around the creature's feet. Jana feels a surge of pride and relief that at least something of her equipment works but still feels the tension in her bones as she waits to see if that thing made of rock comes charging through the clearing smoke. The others also seem to share her anxiety as Jon visibly rolls his shoulders in anticipation, but they don't hear anything from the creature's direction besides the soft plopping of stones as they fall back to the ground.

When the air finally clears, the inhuman thing lies in a small crater from the grenade, only small patches of 'skin' and clothes clinging to its body. It no longer glows, so perhaps the light meant some kind of life, but Jana doesn't have a chance to question it before Jon is looking to her and giving a nod of clear thanks.

"Liara," Jon says as he sheaths his sword and latches his shield to his back. "Get the horses. Jameson …." He pauses to let the bigger man with armor that has bear shaped helmet and dark, thick fur around his shoulders guide his horse closer. "Get off and help us with this … thing …."

Jon leaves off the rest as he turns back to the obelisk and quickly begins to climb the slight incline to where Ashlin still lies motionless. Jana follows, not sure what she's to do in this situation, but knowing that she can at least offer aid to a fallen … soldier.

"I have some supplies that can help," she says to the deeply concerned man as he kneels beside Ashlin and lays a hand on her shoulder.

Dropping to his side, she fetches a pack of medi-gel from her suit's supply and breaks the distributor to access the anesthetic. She can't use the clotting agent without the ultrasonic tool that would be able to disconnect it from the wound, but thankfully medi-gel is packaged as a two-part salve that's mixed as it's administered but remains separated before any kind of use.

"Here …." She uses her teeth to pull off a glove and shoves Jon's hands out of the way so she can spread anesthetic on the open wounds on Ashlin's face.

Jon busies himself with getting off the heavily dented armor on Ashlin's chest and torso before he stops to question once Jana finishes tending to the woman's wounds as best as she can. "What is that? …. Are you a healer?"

"What? No …." Jana slips what's left of her medi-gel back into her suit's medi-gel storage before helping him start to lift Ashlin, taking her legs as he shifts his hands under Ashlin's shoulders. Tali, still by Jana's side through this entire confusing situation, grabs what armor Jon's removed without hesitation and follows closely. "I'm not a healer …. It's … it's something to help clean the wounds until you can get her to a doctor …."

Jon nods once as he leads them towards where Jameson and Liara have gathered up the horses.

"We need to hurry." Liara slides her staff into a loop on what must be her horse's saddle and rushes to Jon's side, checking Ashlin for any sign of life with her bare hands. "Cerberus' Hounds have caught up with us …. I could see them gathering at Areis."

Confused, Jana jerks her head to get someone's attention because her hands are still under Ashlin's legs. "Wait a minute …. No one has told me a damn thing about what's going on …. I know Cerberus, but Hounds? Who're they?"

Jon initially ignores her as he shifts Ashlin's weight in his hands to wave Jameson down from his horse, but Liara answers for him as the bigger man takes Ashlin's legs from Jana. "Cerberus is a very dangerous mercenary company …. That thing," she says, motioning the rock figure that's now draped across another of the horses' backs, "was made by them and was going to escape with valuable information that might help us defeat the Reapers."

"Ma'am," Jon interrupts, stepping back from where he and Jameson have positioned Ashlin so that Jameson can hold her against his chest as he sits in the saddle. "I understand you're just as confused as we are about … well, you two." Tying the reins of the horse with the stone creature on its back to a large, white horse, he glances towards the castle before turning to Jana. "There's a war going on and I'm afraid you've found yourself in it. I promise you that we will try to get to the bottom of you two and where you came from, but right now, we desperately need to get out of here before the Hounds have given up searching Areis and come looking for us here." His brows draw down in concern and he motions the four horses. "We can make it if we hurry …. Come with us and I'll get you to safety … and maybe some answers."

Taking a deep breath, Jana glances to Tali and swallows. What choice do they have? These people look and sound like the people she knows, but they are obviously very different. Something tells her this isn't all just some ruse - that idea fizzled up in the instant of Ashlin's attack - but she can't quite come up with any real explanation for what's going on. Could she just be unconscious and having a very vivid, stress-induced dream? Is this the last she thinks of as she's dying from being electrocuted back on Talis Fai?

Does she really want to find out what will happen to her if she and Tali are left behind to be found by Cerberus?

"Alright," she says, making sure to hold Tali's gaze as she makes a decision for them both. "I don't know what's going on, but I know Cerberus." She turns to Jon. "We'd rather not face them without the use of our weapons."

Jon's frown relaxes slightly and he gives a seemingly relieved smile. "Good …. Liara will strap Ashlin's armor to her horse." After both Jana and Tali nod and Tali silently moves to help Liara pack the damaged armor, Jon speaks again with more urgency. "Can either of you ride a horse?"

Jana scoffs, chuckling nervously as she looks over the massive animals. "We don't even have horses where we come from."

That gets her a look of utter shock as he blinks, but he recovers quickly at the sound of rolling thunder and motions the white horse. "I can have one of you with me and Liara can take the other." He goes to his horse and looks between Jana and Tali, gaze stopping on Tali. "I hope it's alright if you ride with me." Giving Jana a polite, apologetic smile, he says, "Your armor and mine together will make it difficult …. Liara's horse can carry you both, don't worry. Liara?"

Seemingly to need Liara's assurance, Jon waits for her to nod her head and answer. "Yes, she can hold us both." She glances to Jana and smiles softly. "She's stronger than she looks."

Nodding, because she has nothing else she could do but accept, Jana walks to Liara and her horse, waiting for instruction. "How do I?"

"Put your foot in the stirrup and pull yourself up, throwing your other leg over its back. Then scoot behind the saddle so I can get on."

It sounds much easier than Jana would think, but a quick glance at Tali and Jon shows that Tali's managed to get on and waits for Jon to mount the horse, her hands fidgeting in obvious anxiousness at the completely alien situation. Seeming to feel Jana's eyes, Tali looks over and her hands still. She gives a nod, perhaps encouragingly, and Jana sighs with her decision made.

Shifting her body to match Liara's position, Jana lifts her outer foot and wedges her boot into the stirrup. She takes a few bounces to build up her confidence before kicking up off the ground and swinging her leg over the horse's body. Once she's seated, the feat doesn't seem so impossible and she glances down, her inkling of fear at the height fading some when her mind realizes that, even if she falls, it'll be a fall she can easily survive.

For a moment, she forgets to give Liara her space. With a soft 'oh' Jana finally moves back and moves her hands around to try and see what she can grab a hold of. She has a feeling that once the horse is moving, she'll need some way to stay on but has no idea what would work. She glances at Liara's back as the asari shifts to glance over her shoulder and Jana gives a weak smile, nodding a go-ahead as she slips her fingers under the edge of the saddle to hold on.

"Are you ready?" Jon asks, walking his horse up beside Liara's, the riderless horse attached to his own and following closely behind. "It's going to be a bit of a rough ride as we gallop back to the docks. Along with Cerberus, we need to beat the storm too."

What is 'ready' in a situation I never imagined myself being in? How do you ready yourself to ride a horse when it gallops, whatever that is?

Instead of voicing her doubts, Jana exhales a heavy breath and nods. "Yeah. Let's get the hell out of here before Cerberus catches us."

"Good idea," Jon agrees with a smile as he pulls his reins to turn the two horses. Giving a shout and kick of his feet, his horse immediately takes off, building speed as it and the riderless horse beside it run down the valley.

As Liara kicks her own horse with an urgent sound, Jana realizes now what the word 'gallop' means and, with how her body bucks and jostles on the back of this horse, she decides she's not much of a fan.

Chapter 3: The Normandy

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: The Normandy

“Just how much … farther ….” Jana grunts, barely getting used to her breath getting knocked out of her lungs every time she is bucked about from the horse’s rough stride. She grimaces each time her body bounces and knows her groin is going be bruised, but the others - besides her dear friend Tali who looks in much the same state - don’t even seem to be bothered by the jostling of their speeding horses. “Are we … almost there?”

“Just a little farther,” Liara - seeming to be the only one who’s heard or simply the one closest to answer - says without looking back to Jana. She leans forward in her saddle and yells at her horse with a quick flap of her reins, urging the horse to keep up speed with the others.

Jana grips tighter onto the saddle and grinds her teeth at the sharp stabs of pain radiating up her spine with each heavy stomp of the horse’s feet. She really does hope they’re getting close to the docks and whatever means of escape Jon has in store for them because her fingers are starting to feel numb from gripping the saddle so hard. Without a saddle to sit in, stirrups to hook her boots in, or reins to hold onto, she feels like it’s only a matter of time before she just slides off Liara’s honey-colored horse’s rear.

My luck is it’ll even kick me on the way down with its back legs ….

When she thinks she has just enough balance to take a chance at getting a good look at what’s in front of them from around Liara’s back, Jane spares a glance ahead and over the crest of the steep hill they’re climbing. She smells the scent of salty air just as she sees actual, wooden docks, but is taken aback not by the rare sight of the ocean, but the impossible one of an antique wooden ship bobbing softly in its waters. For Jana, boats like the one down there don’t exist outside of museums or vids, even the modern fishing vessels made of steel or - in the case of more expensive ships - polymer blends that weigh much less.

This new Normandy - as emblazoned across its side - is not nearly as big as the Normandy she commanded, but logically, she’d imagine a boat the size of a frigate like her Normandy would be more a warship than what she thinks this one’s specialty must be. After all, if this world is starting to be like hers, then this Normandy has to be some kind of reconnaissance vessel, or one equally meant to slip in and out of places unnoticed.

“ Keelah ... that’s your Normandy?” Tali’s voice is tight as she grips tightly on to Jon’s armor, clinging to him desperately. Jana can’t blame her, not with her own frantic attempts to stay atop Liara’s horse, but she also wonders if Tali being quarian - and definitely not of a species that evolved on the same planet as and adapted to ride horses - plays a part in her capacity to stay on as safely as possible.

Jon hesitates a bit, glancing over his shoulder, but Jana’s sure his trojan-looking helmet blocks most of his view of Tali just as it masks the subtlest features of his expression. “Pardon?”

Tali doesn’t seem to notice the confused look Jon’s face that Jana sees as she clenches her eyes shut behind her mask and clings tighter to Jon’s back when she is jostled particularly hard. “I said … is that the Normandy?”

“Oh,” he says, voice full of uncertainty that Jana can’t quite place but has a suspicion might have to do with Tali. “Yes, that’s the Normandy.”

Neither speak and Tali seems to let Jon focus on leading his horse down the slope towards the Normandy, gangplanks set out between it and the dock with its crew loading it with barrels and various supplies. Jana wonders how they’re going to transport the horses - or if horses were even taken aboard ships back in her Earth’s history - and her gaze moves over Jon and his men to see if there is any kind of indication of what they plan for their massive steeds.

As they storm into the small gathering of crewmen packing the Normandy, Jon pulls back sharply on his reins and his horse skids to a halt, throwing its large head back with a heavy scoff of breath. It paces on its feet a moment before settling while Liara and Jameson bring their horses to a much smoother stop, though their horses still seem just as antsy as the massive white horse beneath Jon.

“Hurry up with those barrels!” He calls out as he hops off his horse, turning to help Tali down before returning his attention to his now alert crew. “Bettrice, Sybill,” he says, motioning two women that look so similar to the two soldiers that guarded the security checkpoint between Jana’s Normandy’s War Room and the rest of the ship, “Get the horses boarded. Just get them settled and deal with their gear later. Liara, get someone to get that thing aboard. I want you and EDI translating what you can from it. Jameson.” Jameson steps at attention while Liara offers a hand to Jana getting off her golden horse. “Get Ashlin to Chloe immediately. Stephen, get the rest on board, leave whatever isn’t necessary behind,” he adds, pointing a man that looks like Cortez towards the nameless crew now hurrying to load up supplies.

Jon begins up the gangplank at a brisk pace, leaving Jana and Tali to follow quickly behind as he continues to call out orders. He glances to them and jerks his head towards the darkened, lower deck that looks meant for all the Normandy’s cargo. “I’ll give you a proper tour once we’re on the water,” he says as he waves a group of the crew standing about towards the gangplank and others outside. “Get to work! I want those gangplanks up the second our horses are aboard!”

“Just tell us if you need us to do anything.” Jana speeds up to his side as they climb stairs further up into the ship. “I don’t know how much we can do without slowing you down-”

“Don’t worry,” he interrupts, leading the two women up at least three decks before reaching the top, though there is at least one more, smaller deck above. “Gregorius!”

Jon storms up to the highest deck, where the large, wooden wheel stands vertically and, at its side, a man so surprisingly like Joker it stuns Jana for a moment. She quickly gathers herself though when a man looking like Adams rushes past her up the stairs to this navigation deck to see to Jon’s orders.

“We need to get to the Citadel,” Jon tells Gregorius and his obvious Joker. “Ashlin is injured and we need to get whatever we find on the Construct we brought aboard to the Council.” Gregorius nods and rushes back down the stairs, yelling out orders that are further relayed across the deck.

“First you bring a walking rock aboard,” Joker says with an amused huff before shifting the three-cornered - almost comically stereotypical - hat on his head to get a better look before motioning a hand towards Jana and Tali, “then we get some guests.”

“I’ll explain later,” Jon says, stepping to the railing overlooking the loading down below. “I mean it …. Be ready to cast off the moment I give the order.”

“That bad?” Joker shifts up straighter. “Cerberus knew something we didn’t?”

“That earthen Construct? It was theirs …. They’ve had it here for a while, according to Liara.”

“Liara and I have already begun to examine it,” a very familiar, yet out of place - all things considering - voice says and Tali even sucks in a breath at the sound of EDI’s voice. “The runes are extensive ….” Trying to follow the voice, Jana looks around the smaller deck and catches sight of a type of fountain, out of place and seeming to flow without any kind of mechanism. The liquid glows various colors, seeming to flicker to the tones of EDI’s voice echoing from it. “But we believe it may hold valuable information against the Reapers.”

“So it really is the Reapers,” Tali says, wringing her hands as she looks over the railing down to the bustling deck below. “ Keelah …. We can never escape them ….”

Jana frowns and pulls off her helmet, sighing as she turns to Jon. “I don’t know if it’ll help …. We never got this far where … we come from ….” She glances to Tali’s back, swallowing at her friend’s hunched shoulders. As much as she’s felt over her own failings, now that Tali’s here by her side, Jana isn’t sure she can just give up with it just being the two of them in a strange world. “But we’ll help as best we can.”

“Thank you.” Jon removes his own helmet, wiping sweat from his brow where a large scar cuts across his forehead and onto his scalp. “We’ll need all the help we can get.” Looking between the Jana and Tali, he huffs and tries for a weak smile. “You seem to already know most of our names, but I don’t know how to address either of you ….”

Shepard ….

Yet, that doesn’t really have the same ring in her ears as it once did. She hasn’t really allowed herself to be called ‘Shepard’ and think of any kind of authority in a long time. It’s just a name that is less personal than her first, but in this world that isn’t her own? Is there a point in being professional?

“Jana,” she says softly, laying a hand on her chest where her ring lies just beneath her armor. It’s a kind of a grounding piece of life she once had and it’s what she needs at this moment of uncertainty.

Tali turns from watching the crew below and dips her head slightly. “Tali’Zorah vas …. Well ….”

The others all seem to pause, a tension suddenly snapping to existence between them and Jana and Tali. Jon’s eyes widen in shock as he stares at Tali and Jana feels a strange itching at the back of her neck, unsure what’s going on.

Has Tali done something? Have their introductions suddenly broken whatever acceptance there was between them?

“T … Tali, you say?”

Joker gives a low whistle to cut off Jon and he pointedly looks away from the others. “That’s somethin’ ...” he says softly, almost unheard over the shouts of the crew all around them preparing the ship to disembark.

“I’m sorry …. Did I say something wrong?” Tali’s eyes betray her deep frown and Jana shifts closer to her friend.

There’s a long silence before Jon seems to regain his composure, clearing his throat as he rubs a gloved hand over the back of his neck, stretching it to each side. “Uh, no …. Sorry, Tali.” He smiles, but Jana knows it’s forced as he drops a hand to a small, purple rope tied to his belt.

Jana immediately realizes what’s wrong …. Because it’s exactly what she’s doing ….

Dropping her hand from her hidden ring, she shifts to get Tali’s attention, their gazes meeting as she gives a slight nod not to worry. Tali seems to deflate in relief as Jana turns back to Jon and tries to change the conversation to any other kind of subject so her own thoughts don’t drift to impossibilities.

Could he ….?

“So I take it that this is some kind of universes converging thing like in the vids,” Jana says in order to stop her mind from getting her hopes up, pausing when Jon looks to her in confusion. “Right, you probably don’t know what I just said ….”

“I got most of it, but not ‘vids.’” Jon shifts his helmet under his arm and motions her to walk with him to the edge of the deck and look down at the crew as they start to - if Jana’s old vid-watching has paid off - push against the large cog that’ll lift the anchor. “But I think you’re right …. Our realms must have converged. Liara would probably know more, but it seems like it was from the prothean artifact ….”

“The obelisk?” Jana lifts a brow and bites the corner of her lip before nodding. “All I remember is a building storm, then what I thought was being struck by lightning ….”

She glances to Tali and sees her friend nod, saying, “Me too …. I thought we died ….” She crosses her arms, rubbing her hands along the outsides of them as if to fend off some kind of chill. “I still don’t know if we did or not …. This place is so strange.”

“You knew Liara …. And I assume you know others here,” Jon says, lifting a brow in question and Jana nods.

“Yeah, but most have different names …. And … Ash isn’t alive … where we’re … from.” Jana frowns, chewing on the inside of her cheek at just how confusing it is to explain something she only thought possible in vids or in books. It makes her wonder just how much else is different - or the same. “She died on Virmire.” Sighing, Jana looks off into the distance. “I had to make a call ….”

Jon is quiet, only answering with a simple nod. Suddenly, Jane feels a slight shift of the boat beneath her feet and she looks to him in question, gaze moving over the deck below as men work at the sails at the calls and orders of who’s sure to be this world’s version of Daniels and Donnelly.

“We’re setting off.” He glances towards the stairs as Gregorius climbs up to the level. “Gregorius, I'm entrusting you to get us to the Citadel as quickly as possible. Stay out of sight from the coastline. I don't even want to see a glimpse of land on the horizon unless it's Thessia.”

“Of course, Captain,” the man gives a stern nod before clasping his hands behind his back. “Would you like me to relay any message to Samatha for her ravens?”

“Yes, actually. Send ravens to the Citadel of our approach, news to Palaven of the Reaper attack on Terra, and lastly, to Earth for the King.” Jon exhales a heavy, tired sounding breath as he looks towards the open ocean. “Hopefully, he's managed to escape with some of his fleet intact.”

Giving a firm salute, Gregorius bustles back down the stairs and across the deck towards what looks like it could be another top deck cabin on the opposite end of the ship.

Ravens …. Seems so archaic and inefficient, but what else is there without an extranet?

When Jon returns to them after speaking with Joker and pointing to the East, Jana pushes up from the railing and turns to him.

“The Citadel, huh?” Anxiety prickles at the back of her neck and she reaches up to touch her chest but pauses midway before dropping her hand back to her side. “Is it safe?”

Jon doesn’t seem to have missed the movement but doesn’t remark as he nods and takes a deep breath, gaze moving out towards the South where the land curves further out into the ocean from their position before it finally drops into the water. “Yes. So far, I think the Citadel may be the safest place for you,” he says before looking between Jana and Tali. “We can take you there and see if the scholars at the University can find out how you came to be here. We’ll continue on our journey, but you can stay-”

“No,” both women say simultaneously before quieting, Tali looking to Jana with a concerned glance.

Jana swallows her nerves and drops her head, rubbing at the building ache at the back of her skull. “Our Citadel doesn’t turn out to be so safe ….” She glances at Tali before looking into Jon’s eyes, steeling her nerves as that little voice in the back of her head that’s been urging her forward whispers what she truly needs to do. “I’ll join you … if you’ll have me. And for what it’s worth.”

She leaves the decision to do the same up to Tali but inwardly hopes to herself that her friend won’t leave her side. She can’t ask that of her, though, not with all the hell she’s already led her closest friend through in their own universe. Tali still has a chance to make something of her life if Jon, indeed, knows how to defeat the Reapers. Already, he seems to have better odds since he hasn’t already begun to fail with the loss of the Cerberus … thing and its information.

“I’m staying too,” Tali says with a firm nod of her head before looking to Jana and giving her a personal nod, the silent promise to stay by Jana’s side passing between them.

I love you, Tali …. Thank you ….

Jana’s lips twitch in a soft smile of thanks before she takes a look at her friend, then her own helmet in hand. “I don’t know how much help we can be,” she says to Jon, expression changing to a mask she hasn’t worn since losing her will to fight. If this is where they’ve ended up, and if this is where Tali will be safe should Jana fight for it, then she’ll do her best to make up for her failings. “Our weapons and tech don’t seem to be working, but if anyone can fix them, Tali can.”

A soft, seemingly wistful smile crosses Jon’s lips as he sets his hand on the purple roping looped on the belt at his hip. “Yeah … of course. At these times, there’s no use turning away aid. Maybe you can provide some knowledge that we may be able to interpret to our benefit.”

“We can try, but I have to tell you … I wasn’t doing so good saving the galaxy.” Frowning, Jana gives Tali an apologetic look, praying her friend would someday forgive her for all the worst that came from her apathy in their war. “I’m not a very good commander where we come from.”

Tali’s voice is soft, hurt, as she takes a step closer and lays a hand on Jana’s elbow. “Jana ….”

Jon lets the moment of silence rest in the air before he gives an understanding nod, his expression almost forgiving as if knowing Jana will be nothing more than a burden, a shattering of any hope at an advantage against his Reapers.

Running a hand over her head, sure that her pulled back hair is a mess from the sweat and her helmet, Jana sighs and lays her hand on Tali’s. “If we can’t use our weapons, we might be able to learn something else. Tali’s good with ….”

“I have a feeling I can learn about your ship if your crew teaches me,” Tali says, nodding as she tilts her head. “Our ... ships are very different from yours, but I learn fast. I can repair tech, but maybe I can learn to repair something here.”

“What’s ‘tech?’” Jon looks them over. “Does it have something to do with your weapons not working like you say?” He crosses his arms as best he can with his helmet in hand and bulky armor. “Those aren’t crossbows, are they?” he asks, suspicion in his voice.

“No … but maybe they’re a bit like it if I understand what a ‘crossbow’ is,” Tali explains, looking to Jana in question of should she explain and Jana shrugs before giving a nod. “I’ve seen vids …. Crossbows launch something, right?” She clears her throat when Jon nods, shifting on her feet. Jana considers explaining the outdated human weapon instead, but talking seems to be calming Tali. “Our guns launch tiny, heated pieces of metal from an internal compartment …. But it takes tech - technology - to …. I guess to instruct the gun to do this. Without our tech working, our guns won’t fire.” Tali hums, rubbing her neck as she pauses, perhaps over explaining just what their tech is in a way Jon can understand.

“We have certain technology here, but nothing so … fantastical as that.” Jon rubs the stubble along his jaw, brows furrowed in thought. “Is there anything else that doesn’t work?”

“Our omni-tools,” Tali says a moment before physically wincing. “ Keelah , that’s going to be difficult to explain.”

Jana hums and bites her lip. “It’s a more advanced technology-”

“ Maker … more advanced?”

Jana huffs a soft laugh at Jon’s shocked look, but Tali takes it in stride as she explains. “It’s like …. You know what tells our guns to fire? It’s like a brain …. An onni-tool is like a smarter brain. It can do a lot more, a lot more important things.”

“Like communicate in a way that’s much faster and more efficient than ravens,” Jana says in way of a better explanation. “And it can reach other omni-tools across the galaxy.”

Jon is silent for a long time, probably stunned by the idea. Jana figures he may even be trying to comprehend the mere idea of something given how - saying without a better word - primitive this world is. She knows she and Tali shouldn’t even try to explain what high-grade omni-tools can do if the basics are so out of this world already.

Imagine the concept of Tali’s drone ….

Letting out a heavy breath, Jon stumbles a bit to the railing and leans heavily on it. “This …. This is so …. You really live like that?” he asks Tali before glancing to Jana but seems to speak to himself. “ Maker …. ”

“Maybe ….” Jana stops, unsure how to proceed as she shifts on her feet. “Maybe it doesn’t matter though. If Tali can’t get them to work ….”

She glances at her friend, starting to question just how important an omni-tool and tech is to her quarian friend. Does her suit run off tech? Is she able to survive without it? Could there be a way to manually control the simulated environment Tali’s sealed suit has?

Could I lose her too?

Not wanting to bring up these questions in front of strangers - and strangers from another world, at that - Jana clears her throat to get Jon’s attention. When he finally looks up from his off-distance gaze, Jana motions out over the ship’s top deck.

“Is there any way we can get someplace to recoup? To … catch our bearings?” Her gaze moves over the horizon and slowly shrinking shore. “I figure we have a long while to settle in for.”

“Yeah …. Yeah.” Standing up, he waves to Joker and raises his voice. “I’m going to show Jana and Tali around the ship, get them settled. You and Gregorius have the command until I return.”

“Aye, Captain,” Joker says with a humorous quirk to his lips as he gives a tip of his hat but doesn’t look away from his guidance out into the open ocean at a diagonal leave from the coast.

“Come on, ladies,” Jon says with a slight, although forced, smile on his lips. “I’ll have to think over what you said, but let’s get you settled first.”

The wood of the stairs creak as Jon leads them down, explaining their surroundings as he goes. “You were just at the Helm, the heart of the Normandy. Below it is the Captain’s Cabin … my cabin.” He half turns to them to both speak somewhat directly to them without bumping into anything or anyone on the busy deck. “This is our top deck. The small cabin at the bow is our Navigation Cabin where Gregorius and I can plot out our course as well as has a small foremost cabin where Samatha tends to our ravens. Down these stairs,” he says, taking the creaking steps into the darkness only lit by lanterns hanging on hooks on the walls and support beams through the level.

“Here we are on the Crew Deck.” He huffs a laugh. “My crew’s favorite deck, you’ll find. Below was the Cargo Deck …. I won’t make you go back down there since the most important aspect of it is its use …. We have a small brig at the stern, but I’ve yet to need it. Still, though, it’s good to have in case we run into anything.”

They stand in a slightly small, but obvious gathering point for the crew with the rest of the deck divided by walls for obvious privacy and better order on such a bustling, cramped feeling ship. Jane looks around to the crates and barrels made into makeshift seating around larger ones obviously intended as tables all scattered about.

“Aft is our galley. Behind that is our infirmary,” Jon says as he points to what Jana thinks is the back of the ship - if she isn’t turned around. Walking towards a wall divided by a hall, he motions his head towards their right. “Forward are the sleeping quarters for the crew. We’ve divided it into bigger rooms for at least some space between the crew, but this is where everyone sleeps for the night.”

Jana glances into the open doorways of a bunk room as they pass, catching sight of decently sized rooms full of bunks that look like the military cots she’s used before when living with nothing but a duffle out in the field as well as hammocks secured to the support beams for others. The cots are secured to the wooden deck and covered in a fabric pulled somewhat taut in a makeshift hammock for those spaces where a traditional one wouldn’t fit. A few chests are situated in a set order across the deck for personal effects, but there are also duffles for who perhaps haven’t had the time to settle in properly.

Towards the end of the hall are actual doors, four in total with two on each wall. Jon stops at a door and turns fully to Jana and Tali.

“I have a feeling you’d feel more comfortable with a cabin to yourselves,” he says as he pushes open the door to the room, mostly bare save for the two beds - the closest to actual beds with their wooden frames secured to the ground and covered in what looks like straw and big blankets of fur - a chest at the foot of each, and small window on the far wall and a lantern hanging beside the door. Jana’s certainly seen worse quarters, even if those beds were made of metal and cloth secured to the metal of a - space - ship’s deck. “I hope you’re okay with sharing.”

Jana lets out a nervous chuckle as she looks to Tali. “I think we can manage without pulling each other’s hair out,” she jokes softly, giving Tali a warm, encouraging smile.

Tali’s eyes crease in a smile as she tilts her head. “That’d be easier for me to do anyway.”

Jon barks a boisterous laugh as he grins, waving the two women into their room. “I hope you can settle in well enough. I’ll have someone get you something to wear when you get your armor off ….” He scratches his jaw. “I don’t know if Jameson knows how to clean that kind of … armor. What kind of metal is it?”

“It’s not metal, it’s a high polymer blend,” Jana says and sets her helmet on the chest at the foot of her chosen bed. It looks less comfortable without as much straw as the other and she chooses it because, well, Tali deserves the best considering she’s been thrown in a strange world without the tech that’s such a huge part of her life. If Jana can make up for their situation by giving Tali the better bed, then she’d be happy. She’d be content even if she had to sleep on the floor. “I don’t think your stuff will work with it, but I’d appreciate some kind of clothes besides my undersuit.”

Tali fidgets a bit, looking at the ground as she wrings her hands. “I … can’t take off my armor ….” Before Jon can speak, she shrugs. “It’s a long story ….”

Jon closes his mouth, quieting his question, and smiles with an accepting nod. “Maybe another day, then.” Glancing between Jana and Tali, he looks around the room with a hum. “You ladies try to get comfortable. We’ll get you some clothes and I’ll come get you when there’s something ready to eat.”

Jana forces a laugh. “Yeah, food sounds amazing.”

… but also brings up a serious question.

She waits until Jon steps out, the door closing behind him, before sighing and dropping to the bed. Here she’s been wondering how she’ll handle this situation when Tali is facing a whole new dilemma in silence. How can Jana fret over mere comfort when Tali’s life could be at stake.

“How are you on food?” she asks, looking up to Tali as her friend sits across from her. “Is your suit okay?” Jana hums and sits back, running her hand over her head as she jostles her leg in nerves. “sh*t, are you going to be okay here?”

“Jana,” Tali says, stilling her with a hand on Jana’s knee. “It’s okay ….” She hums and glances at the wooden ground between them. “I have some rations with me I can spread out …. Then I have some sanitizing packets for food …. Extra filters …. I can use the antiseptic from medi-gel …. Keelah , it’d be better with my tool,” she whispers and Jana shifts to the edge of her bed and grasps Tali’s hands to now stop her from fidgeting.

“Hey,” Jana says, squeezing her friend’s hands. “You’ll take everything from my gear you can use. We have to be able to make something work with everything we have.” Taking a deep breath, she drops her head and closes her eyes. “Maybe there’s something here that we can use if - God forbid - something happens to your suit.” She swallows heavily and blinks back unshed tears. She can’t lose Tali now too. “There have to be quarians here …. There has to be a way of life for them we can use too ….”

Chapter 4: The Citadel

Chapter Text

Jana groans, the sound rumbling in her throat as her stomach lurches again, rolling in her abdomen with the swaying of the Normandy on the ocean waves. Lying down hasn't been helping and closing her eyes only seems to make the imbalance that much more intense. She doesn't know how many times she's emptied her stomach contents during the past few days, dry heaving to the point that her chest aches and her throat burns when she had nothing left.

And everyone else acts like the constant, heavy rocking of the ship is no big deal. Like they don't even feel it when the Normandy jerks so hard that they have to catch themselves before they tumble.

"Ugh …." Rubbing her forehead with the back of her hand, she cracks open an eye and turns her head slightly in order to catch a glimpse of Tali, studiously working at pieces of their tech spread out across the small floor space of their cabin. "How can you look so comfortable with this constant swaying?" she asks with a huff, envious of her friend and the fact that she hasn't heard her complain of nausea even once during their long journey, which is probably for the best considering Tali's helmet and the fact that it's not like she can just remove it every time her stomach demands.

"Mhmm?" Tali glances up from where she's meticulously picking at one of their omni-tool bands - Jana can't be sure which with how much Tali's disassembled it. "Oh …." Shrugging, Tali sets down a small piece and reaches over to a pile designated for Jana's disassembled pistol, picking up another tiny piece of tech Jana can't even begin to identify. "There are older ships in the Flotilla that still have outdated dampeners. It feels sorta like this when they take a Relay or shift into FTL. The Rayya did it for a little while when one of its dampeners malfunctioned."

Attention perking up at the fact that the ship Tali grew up on had any kind of malfunction, Jana shifts to sit up on her elbow and look directly at her friend. "But that's all that happened, right? You weren't in danger from it?"

Jana knows Tali's been picking up on her slightly paranoid, protective streak but neither of them have brought it up directly. She's sure Tali wouldn't keep it to herself if she found it intrusive, but Jana still worries about pushing her friend away because Jana's clinging on too tightly because she can't bear to lose the only person she has that's important to her anymore. Afraid of how panicked her questions came across, Jana forces herself to lay back on the bed and close her eyes, mentally scolding herself for being so jumpy.

She knows a lot of her anxiety comes from her constant seasickness, but it still feels good when Tali mutters under her breath, laboring away at making sense of their inactive tech as if she hadn't noticed the slight break in Jana's tone.

"Don't worry …" Tali says over the sounds of her shuffling through more of the pieces of tech on the ground and Jana opens her eyes to glance over out of the corner of her eye to gauge Tali's mood concerning her work. She seems slightly irritated, but still intent on getting something out of their so far useless equipment as she continues to explain. "The engineers had to manually repair the faulty connections, but the other dampener worked fine when we needed to go FTL …. It was just a little swaying about and nausea until it was fixed."

Jana nods with a slight smile aimed at the wooden planks above, grateful for good, old fashioned quarian ingenuity. It's what makes her confident Tali can make at least something out of all their equipment even though there's been a consistent litany of muttered curses coming from her friend the entire time she's been at it. Most days, she gets to the point of working with their tech that frustration wins out over determination, but it seems like there's something about the shipwide talk that says they'll finally be at the Citadel that seems to have put a sense of urgency in Tali's efforts.

Sighing, Tali seems to have finally given up as she sets the pieces of tech back down and leans back against the frame of her bed. "I don't know if any of this is going to work, Jana …."

"If anyone can manage it, it's you," Jana says, finally sitting up but pausing a second as she closes her eyes to let her lightheadedness dissipate after the sudden movement. She lets out a deep breath and opens her eyes to find Tali watching her.

"How are you doing?" Tali tilts her head, concern obvious in her eyes. "You seem better, but it's still hard to understand human body language."

Huffing a soft laugh, Jana flips a hand in the air. "I haven't thrown up today, but the day is young."

She takes a long moment to gather her nerves before she stands and moves to the chest at the foot of her bed where there's a small collection of clothes Jon and his crew have gathered up for her to use. It's not something she immediately worried about when she and Tali were thrown in this strange new reality, but it became an obvious dilemma the first night when she took off her armor and found all she had to wear was her undersuit and the pair of panties beneath. She doesn't even have a bra here because she often relied on the support from the thick, yet flexible material of the undersuit to keep her breasts secured.

She's grateful then for Jon's insistence on giving Jana at least one set of clothes outside of her undersuit because, even as basic as they are, the loose shirt, pants, and worn jacket have given her a sense of comfort she knows her undersuit is incapable of. One of the crew - Sybill, Jana thinks she remembers her name is - even gave her a pair of shoes that, though barely pass as anything more than thin foot wraps, are easily a thousand times better than walking around in her armored boots.

It's truly unfortunate that Tali couldn't make use of anything the crew put together for her, but, then again, Tali's used to never getting out of her suit, so perhaps she's more comfortable knowing she's wearing something both familiar and doing its job to keep her safe from the elements. We both know this world iswayless sanitized and clean than our own.

A slight knock on their door draws both of their attentions and Jana stands up to see who's come and if it's the word of arriving at the Citadel she's been waiting for so she can finally get on some solid ground.

The door really isn't anything in the way of privacy, but they both appreciate the crew's attempt to give them the space and peace and - somewhat - quiet they need to get used to everything. It isn't too often that they have visitors and, of those that do come, it's usually Jon or someone at his orders to just stopping by check up on them and how they're settling. Liara and Jameson have knocked once or twice in their trip to gather Jana and Tali up for the meager meals in the mess - the Normandy obviously not stocked with the appropriate amount of food for the size of crewmembers aboard when the Reapers attacked unexpectedly and they had to make a quick escape - but it seems the two are still wary of the mysterious strangers.

Not surprising, Jana considers, when she and Tali couldtechnicallybe blamed for part of Ashlin's injuries and critical state. Because of that, Jana hasn't taken it too personally. She would be just as suspicious of people claiming to be from a reality where there were apparently other versions of herself and her friends there too.

She can't really imagine what it's like to face a pair of strangers that could possibly know a hell of a lot of personal things about herself and there be a complete lack of reciprocation. At least, it seems like Jana is more mysterious as her friend. Tali, they seem to have some familiarity with, but judging by the caution they still approach her with, there must be something bad surrounding their realities' Tali'Zorah.

Jana isn't sure of her friend, but she's picked up on the occasional awkwardness coming from Jon when he talks directly to Tali. He mostly maintains a more positive outlook on the situation that brought them together than Jana, but she isn't blind. She's noticed the way he tends to reach for that braided, purple rope always tied to his person in some way or another.

It's like when she rolls her ring between her fingers late into the night, staring at the wooden ceiling while her mind runs wild.

He carries the same weight on his shoulders as me …. I don't know if I will be as accepting as he is if I learn that he has his own version of …him.

"Come in," Tali says, cutting into Jana's thoughts with a knowing glance in her direction before turning completely to their guest.

Jon looks between the two of them before offering a tired smile -he's been running ragged … or losing sleep.

"We're approaching the Citadel," he says, stepping in completely so that Jana finally sees a pile of what looks like folded clothes in one of his hands. "I just figured I'd bring you something to wear. Tali, I know quarians here prefer to wear lots of clothing to cover themselves and I apologize that we don't have that, but I'm sure-"

"Oh, I can't take off my suit," she interrupts, using the edge of her bed to climb to her feet. At Jon's confused frown, she rubs at one of her arms and looks away from him. "It's a long story …."

Jon seems to consider the deeper meaning to those words but gives a slight nod before smiling ever so slightly. "Maybe you can tell me it one day …." He looks to Jana and hands over the stack of clothes. "Here you go. Some of the crew put together something for you to wear …. I guess they figured you probably wouldn't be one for asari garb, but if you'd like, I'm sure Liara-"

"Oh, no thanks." Jana chuckles a bit as she takes the offered clothing. She's seen some of what Liara wears and the long, flowing fabrics are definitely not Jana's style even without the seven-inch height difference between her and this version of Liara causing a problem -still need to come to terms with that surprising revelation. "I can manage with this, but … uh, no offense," she says, holding her arms out and looking down at herself, "but what's wrong with this I'm wearing? Or the other stuff you gave me to wear?"

Jon grins in that way that he usually does when they've come across something different so insignificant in the big picture but still amusing when comparing their two realities. Chuckling, he shakes his head and crosses his arms. "Now, I'm not one to tell a lady how to dress, but you'll look awfully out of place walking around in seamen's garb. It's the equivalent of …. Well, let's just say that you'll be really out of place at the shops Liara will be taking you to to get you some actual clothes of your own. Most merchants might not take you seriously if you walk into their shops looking like you're a deckhand or can't afford anything better."

"Oh." Pausing to skim through the piles of clothes Jon has given her, she lifts a brow and looks him over, his clothing slightly more kept than her own, but definitely not much different in terms of style besides the tall boots instead of her foot wraps.

Tali hums as she watches before she speaks, her tone full of skepticism. "You don't look all that fancy …. Uh, no offense," she quickly says with a huff of her own bit of embarrassment.

He laughs cheerfully enough that Tali visibly relaxes. "I'll be changing too, just wanted to get you both settled with something before I head back up to oversee the docking." His amusem*nt quiets down to a few chuckles as he gives both women a quick nod before adding, "I'll let you two get ready. Tali, even if you aren't going to change, but want something to drape over yourself - maybe make yourself more comfortable in the Citadel - let Liara know."

"Thank you," Tali says with a noticeable smile to her voice before giving a soft hum of thought. "I think …. Yeah, okay. I'd like something …. Just to look less out of place."

Does this world have prejudices against quarians walking around the Citadel like our own?

"Will her being a quarian be a problem?" Jana sets her clothing down on her bed before sitting down beside them to start at unwrapping her foot wraps.

"No, I don't think so." Jon cups his chin and strokes his stubbled chin a moment as he examines Tali. "But it wouldn't hurt to try to take away from the look of your ... suit," he asks, unsure of the word but continuing when Tali nods. "I'll let Liara know to look in her wardrobe for something …. I don't know …. Maybe a shawl or something …. Again, I don't really know how to tell a lady to dress, I'm afraid," he adds with a chuckle before stepping back over the room's threshold. "I'll leave you to get ready …. Oh," he says, stopping midway in shutting the door. "Jana, what metal is your armor made of? We might be able to get a blacksmith to look at it for any damages or if he can reinforce it."

"Uh …." Jana huffs in amusem*nt at how strange she's going to sound. How is she going to explain what the hell a polymer blend is? "Yeah …. Let's just say it's not metal. It's a blend of other materials Iknowisn't something you wouldn't just find anywhere …. Hell, I don't even know if you guys can make it."

"Oh." His surprised and confusion is apparent in the way he looks between Jana and Tali a few times as if trying to imagine. "Well …. I guess we can have some armor made for you - That is if you're going to be fighting with us, of course," he adds quickly with a questioning expression.

Jana is quiet a moment, considering. She knows she'll be pretty much useless with her weapons no more than hunks of metal and only a handful of grenades that seem to be the only thing that works from her equipment, but she wants to be useful. Sheneedsto be something worth Jon's while if she and Tali are going to stick around. She can't stand to be a burden … and maybe she can use her Alliance training for something here.

"Yeah," she says, nodding as she turns to Tali to speak to her friend more than Jon. "I want to help any way I can and if you think I'll need proper armor to do it, then tell me what I need to do to get it."

Silently, Tali nods. 'I'm with you' that look and squaring of her shoulders promises and Jana smiles, grateful to have her only anchor right there beside her in all this. Maybe, if Jon can manage to make use of Jana, there's a way Tali can be of use without being in the middle of the battlefield where she could damage her suit in any way.

"Great." Jon smiles at the two of them and jerks his head to the side. "I'll let Jameson know you'll need some armor too. We have weapons we can train you with, so just worry about what you can manage to wear into battle first."

"Right," Jana agrees, turning to her clothes as he leaves, but calls out just as the door closes. "Wait!" Pausing for Jon to come back, she smiles weakly, aware of a very real obstacle concerning all this he has planned for her. "I don't have any way to pay for this …. And I can't really expect-"

"Nonsense," he cuts in, shaking his head. "I don't expect you to worry about that. You joining us in any capacity will pay back any gold everything will cost. You need clothing if you're going to be joining me anyplace off the Normandy and armor for any battles we'll come across. Don't worry," he says with a low chuckle in the back of his throat, though he doesn't sound all that amused. "I don't think we'll find a lack of situations where you can prove your worth with everything how it's becoming."

"Thanks … I guess," she says with a slight frown. He's very right even though she has no real clue and she hates it, hates that it seems that this world is in as much trouble as the one she left. "I really hate that kind of agreement, but if you insist that I need these things, I'll go wherever you say I need to go to get them. And do whatever I need to do repay you."

"Very good. I'll let Gregorius know you'll need gold and Liara is already anticipating helping you find a good dressmaker. Jameson will know what's best for your armor and who to go to get it, so I'll send down word that he'll be joining you." Gaze moving to Tali, he gives her a nod. "Perhaps you and Liara can come up with something to make you feel more at home despite not being able to actually change clothing."

"Sure." Tali lets out a deep breath as she turns to Jana, obviously watching as Jana digs through the clothes for something she feels comfortable wearing thatshouldalso pass the test. "Well, looks like we're heading into the Citadel … for real now."

Jana chuckles nervously. "As much as I hate going into the unknown, it's good that we won't be completely alone and left to figure it out." Pulling out a pair of tighter fitting, dark brown pants that feel less worn than her current ones, Jana sets them aside to look for some kind of top. "Even if we are walking on eggshells around each other, I trust Liara and Jameson won't just leave us to fend for ourselves. The Citadel sounds just a lot like our own and I really don't want to get lost," she says, grabbing a loose, long-sleeved shirt much better kept than her current one and a type of vest that'll need to be laced up the front. "Think this is right?"

"How should I know?" Tali chuckles and walks over, examining the vest. "I think it'll work. You are going out to find clothes, right?"

"Very right," Jana agrees, pulling her shirt off over her head. "At least it'll help support my breasts."

Tugging on the looser, white shirt, she straightens it out over her hips, she takes the vest from Tali and pulls it on. Tali swats at her hands so she can help tug the leather tie through the holes along the center of the dark emerald vest, securing it snuggly, but still comfortable enough for Jana to breathe and move easily. Jana deals with her pants as Tali leaves her to look through the rest of the clothing, making a sort of triumphant sound when she holds up what looks like a pair of boots similar to Jon's.

"Well, that's a hell of a lot better than foot wraps," Jana says as she sits on her bed to tug the leather boots on, folding over the tops to keep them snuggly secured around her calves. "You think I'll pass inspection?"

Tali shrugs, but Jana can tell she's smiling as she helps her to her feet. Looking down over herself, Jana shrugs as well and takes a few steps around their cabin, carefully avoiding the piles of tech scattering across the floor.

"Well, I better. This is actually pretty damn comfortable." She heads to the door and grips the round handle just as there's another knock at the door.

Opening it, she finds Liara dressed in a black and dark green dress that seems more like fabric draped along her front and back and kept together along the sides with gold clasps that clearly leave room to catch glimpses of her sky blue skin. She's draped a darker, almost black green shawl around her neck and left shoulder, making her attire a bit less revealing - in Jana's opinion due to her complete lack of knowledge if all asari wear such clothing - and she wears delicate sandals.

"Oh, I didn't expect you to be dressed so quickly," she says, blushing a bit as she chuckles anxiously. "That was really fast."

"Will I fit in well enough in the Citadel?" Jana holds out her arms and grins when Liara looks her over and gives a smile and approving nod.

"Is this about what you'll like us to buy for you?"

"Definitely. I'm not one for dresses - no offense."

Liara waves the apology away and gives a slight shake of her head. "Asari clothing is not traditionally what humans find appealing save for people living in the Citadel." Shifting on toes to see around Jana, she smiles at Tali. "I brought you a shawl that I think matches really well with your hood."

Jana steps aside to let Liara in and smiles at the deep purple fabric in Liara's hands. It definitely looks like good quality clothing and she's sure it comes from Liara's own collection of clothing. Tali even seems a bit excited to see what Liara's brought, closing the gap between them before Liara can even get too far into their cabin.

"It's a fine silk," Liara explains as she holds it up in a silent 'may I?' and smiles when Tali nods and holds out her hands at her sides. "I really enjoy the feel of it and it's very comfortable."

Unfolding the large piece of fabric, Jana can see how it glistens with different tones of purple varying on the way the light hits it. It truly is beautiful and it makes her happy for her friend, that Tali can be included at least in some way by getting to wear it even if she can't feel the thread and fibers against her skin.

Liara drapes it across Tali's shoulders, wrapping it loosely twice around them before lifting it over and covering Tali's hood. With the remainder, she wraps once more around Tali's neck before tucking in the end. She steps back and gives an approving nod before looking to Jana in question.

"I like it," Jana says, grinning at her friend. "It suits you."

"I agree." Liara fiddles with a fold before smiling. "And you look less out of place than before."

Jana nods in agreement, noticing how her friend looks much less like a spacefarer and more like someone who's well-traveled with experience of this world they've stumbled into. Given quarians' nomadic lifestyle, she can even imagine such attire being worn on Rannoch in a colder season - which she's sure every planet has - back before the geth forced them to flee their homeworld. Maybe one day she'll ask Tali if she agrees.

"You both look great." Moving to leave, Liara motions with her hand. "I believe we're just about to dock … if you want to watch?"

"Oh yeah," Jana says, excited both in seeing something so new to her as a real ship coming into dock and - perhaps more so - for finally getting to dry land. She starts to follow Liara out but not before giving her friend a jerk of her head. "You coming?"

"Of course," Tali says matter of factly, a clear tone of feigned offense at any doubt. "I wanna see every part of the Citadel, even the docks."

Liara chuckles as she leads the way through the deck towards the stairs. The ship isn't all that unfamiliar to Jana and Tali as it initially was thanks to their occasional exploration and Jana's numerous - unfortunate - trips to the top deck where she can empty her stomach over the railing without making a mess on the lower decks.

When they reach the top deck, the sun is bright and blinding for the few seconds it takes for her eyes to adjust. All around is the bustle of the crew working to pull down the sails and prepare the ship for docking. She, Tali, and Liara are sure to stay out of the ways of people crossing back and forth across the deck with some intent Jana has no clue of and it isn't until she sees Jon standing with Joker and Gregorius at the helm that she knows whereshe'seven supposed to be amongst all the hardworking, hurried crew. True to his word, Jon has changed into something better suited for the Citadel, though of an obviously much higher class than her own wardrobe.

Wearing a long, navy blue jacket that gives her the feel of what an official Alliance officer would wear with its golden clasps down the length of it and folded over lapels, Jon looks over the deck at his men at work. He grins when his eyes fall on Jana and Tali - though she's sure the expression is mostly for Tali - and waves a hand to join him on the uppermost deck to oversee the docking with him.

"You look fantastic, ladies," he says as they climb the stairs. "I'd never guess you're from another realm just looking at you now." Waving his hand out towards the shore, he speaks with pride in his tone as he motions the shore of a massive, stone city. "Welcome to the Citadel."

"Keelah…."

Though small in comparison to a giant space station, this Citadel and its size seem even more impressive given the lack of technology that'd make its construction easier. How many centuries has it been since anyone in Jana's universe built something somassiveby hand?

Marked by a large, tower seemingly in its exact center, the Citadel forms a rough circle around this central - and obviously - vital structure. The tower itself must be close to 400 meters tall - definitely comparable to the height of her Earth's Empire State Building - and stands high above the rest of the city's skyline. The Citadel itself must have a diameter close to twice the height of the tower with a tall surrounding wall and inner walls that look to divide the city into six different sections encircling a center one at the base of the tower. The entire city seems to be made of white and golden, sand-colored stones with buildings of varying shapes and heights within but majorly staying below the upper height of the protecting walls. She can't see too much beyond the other side of the city and in the fields beyond, but it does seem like there are two, smaller, encircled cities or some such extended out from the main Citadel.

It's very similar to the way the docks are separated from the city, jutting into the dark waters of whatever ocean it sits. Its outer border is a curved wall similar to the rest of the Citadel's stylized design, but it's only a half circle open towards the Citadel with a long section of docks connecting the two. Jana can bet her life on the idea that the way this section curves inward is intended to provide a greater chance at protecting the docked ships from any outside attack coming from the open sea.

With the Normandy slipping into the man-made cove, Jana sees all manner of ships coming in and out to dock or return to the open ocean. She can tell there's an obvious order to the docking setup by the looks and designs of the ships and where they're dropping anchor, the long bridge to the Citadel meant for the fancier or more important looking vessels as the outer half ring's short docks are meant for personal or lower class ships. The outer ring itself had apparently been hiding its own kind of small section of the city, though the buildings looked more like some kind of shops with small homes sheltered behind and filling the gap to press against the protective wall.

The makeshift buildings I saw behind that wall and against the open ocean must not have that much importance …. Perhaps no one really cares what happens to those people in an oceanfront attack?

Jana frowns slightly at the very possible truth. It's what would happen even in her own reality, the obviously barely thrown together dwellings that fall outside of the protection of a massive structure falling victim first to any attack. Only, usually, her universe dealt in colonies and planets instead of handfuls of people. Somehow, this just seems to make it feel more personal. To put faces to an attack instead of view it as a whole carries a bigger sense of failure to her, though perhaps it's because she'd be projecting her own kind of loss on the situation.

Mordin once said it's easier to fight a war like this when you have an actual face to fight for instead of faceless masses and, with how I left my world, it's easy to see everyone I failed in these people if Jon fails …. Ifwefail.

"You alright?" Tali asks, suddenly close to Jana's side as she lays a hand on her arm.

Letting out a terse breath, Jana nods and lays her own hand on Tali's. "Getting lost in my head …." She leaves it at that, knowing her friend understands without elaboration as Jana turns her attention to Jon. "So this isallthe Citadel? Everything?"

Jon chuckles, showing that bemused smile once more as he nods. "Yeah, everything you see in walls like that one is the Citadel. The biggest city in all of Eros -all of Alysim. Some of the smaller settlements and villages outside of it can also be considered as part of the Citadel's territory, but not part of the city itself."

"It's massive," Tali says, awe in her voice, and Jana nods. "All things considering …."

"How does it compare to your own?"

Jana hums, the topic of justexactlyhow drastic their universes'seemingly place in timeis feeling like a talk meant for everyone to sit down and truly take it in. "Well, ours is bigger, but in comparison to the rest of our reality, it's the biggest place just like for you guys." She shakes her head and crosses her arms, still amazed at the capacity of Jon's people to make this place.

She doesn't remember much of the ancestors and histories of her own universe's species - even humans - but everything of this kind back there just didn't hold the same impression because it wasn'talivelike this Citadel is. Ruins in her reality were all just that, dead structures where visitors were told tales of great feats, but here, Jana can see first hand how life thrived around what these people have made, of their ingenuity in a world where advancement doesn't seem easy.

"It's just so … amazing to know this was all made by hand …."

Jon nods, smiling as he looks out over the Citadel and they draw nearer to the docks Jana judges are meant for important vessels like the Normandy should be. At least it should be considering the importance Jon and his crew will have in this war.

"It truly is impressive … but I have to admit that it wasn't built by our people …." He glances to Liara. "We think it was the Protheans."

Liara sets her hands on the railing of the ship's deck, its dark wood speckled from the salty water that must have been thrown up in the rough waters they previously sailed through. "I'm starting to wonder if even that's true anymore …."

None of the group remark on that as Jana shifts her attention back towards the Citadel, now watching as the dock workers scramble towards the edge of the docks, perhaps preparing to assist the Normandy. She feels how Joker steers the Normandy to drift in parallel with the wooden and stone docks and lets out a deep sigh, reminded of just how grateful she is that they're finally about to get off the ship by the sickly quivering of her empty stomach.

"I'm sure as hell going to be happy to be on solid ground." She huffs a soft laugh of amusem*nt. "I know none of you would get the reference - maybe not even you, Tali - but I feel like those old movies where someone falls out of the boat and starts kissing the ground in joy." When the others look to her in complete bafflement, she laughs. "Yep, that's what I figured …."

"Humans are strange," Tali mutters, but the smile is obvious in her voice as she shuffles closer to Jana's side. "Maybe we'll be here long enough for you to finally get to keep some food down."

"I wish you had told someone you were seasick," Jon says, frowning in slight hurt and concern. "I know Chloe has been busy tending to Ashlin, but I'm sure she has some remedies you could have tried."

"I figured you might say that and I didn't want to take away from her work with Ash - sorry, Ashlin." Shrugging, Jana steps away from the railing and her gaze roves the top deck. "I'll be okay now when I get off the ship and get walking around."

"Speaking of …." Liara smiles and taps a pouch tied to her side. "I'm excited to help you get some things to wear."

Jana snorts and smiles back. "Something makes me think you're more happy to be visiting the shops."

"Goddess, yes," Liara replies with a deep exhale. "Translating the runes we found at Mars has been draining …."

Jon chuckles and glances across the deck and gives a nod to someone who isn't there anymore when Jana takes a look. "Well, Jameson is motioning that everything's set. I'll send forward a request for a hearing with the Council." He sighs and Jana can tell his Council might be just as insufferable as her own. "I don't expect they'll be quick enough to summons us today, though." Shaking his head, he rubs his palm over his stubbled cheek. "When you return to the ship later, we can see if maybe you'd rather sleep at an inn for the night …. Might help with your seasickness to take advantage of finally being ashore."

"I really don't want to take more money-"

"Don't worry," Liara interrupts, taking Jana and Tali's hands and gently tugging them toward the stairs. "You're our guests and we'd be happy to give you some comfort. You said you didn't have ships where you come from, right? So this must be such an experience."

Jana huffs in awkward amusem*nt, happy that Liara seems comfortable enough to touch and even be cheerfully looking forward to spending time with herself and Tali. "Yeah …. It's definitely not something we're used to. Tali is, a bit more than me, though."

Jana lets Liara explain about - water-bound - ships as they travel down to the cargo deck, not correcting her thinking that they just never existed in Jana and Tali's reality because she has a feeling explainingflyingships is going to be quite the talk too. She'd much rather get into the thick of life on the Citadel, start experiencing and getting a mind for the people and environment of the world they're now in. Being at sea is one thing, but walking among the people in a city completely out of her world is another.

Forget a culture shock …. This is a shock of an entirely different magnitude ….

"There you are!" Jameson wears a thick fur cloak that gives a lot of bulk to his shoulders and barely covers his torso where an intricate, braided and curving tattoo of a bear climbs up his right arm and onto the side of his chest. He crosses his arms over his broad chest and looks Tali and Jana over. "You look much better now.Nowyou belong," he adds with a grin and motions to join him as he leads towards and down the gangplank onto the dock.

The dock isn't as crowded as Jana would initially expect, but it isn't bare either. Personal space doesn't really seem to exist to most - usually, the lesser dressed - as they brush up against her in passing and, judging by the way Liara and Jameson seem to be more guarded, she realizes it's just like back home. People don't lack a personal sense of privacy, but they're trying to see if they can pickpocket herself and Tali.

She realizes she and Tali are going to need to learn how to protect any gold they may get because it seems like pockets aren't a common feature in the clothing here. If she doesn't learn to adapt, it'll be too easy to lose a pouch of gold coins from her person,ifshe ever gets any.

"Let's get you fitted for some armor first," Jameson says as the crowds thin a bit at the wider docks before the apparent shops. "This is the Zakera District." He motions with his hand at storefronts with wooden signs hanging at their doors, each with foreign text or, in many cases, simply symbols in place of any kind of store name or designation. "I know a blacksmith that'll be perfect …. He's pretty fast when you have the coin too."

"And do we have the coin?" Jana raises a brow and he grins.

"For this?Bestemt!" He holds out his hands with a proud nod. Jerking his head in instruction to follow, he starts to make his way down the path in obvious search of this blacksmith's shop. Arriving at a shop with nothing but an anvil and crossed hammers on its hanging sign, he makes a triumphant sound and grabs the latch for the door and glances at them. "Here we are, 'The Battered Steel.'"

"Uh," Jana starts, giving him a nervous smile when he lifts a brow. "No offense, but saying something's 'battered' in the title doesn't really sound too appealing if we're looking for good armor."

Jameson laughs as he holds open the door for them. "You're right! But I don't trust anyone else that isn't a damnstolt." He steps into the shop behind the rest of them and calls out while Jana blinks to try to get her eyes to adjust to the darker room. "Girr! Where are you, youoppfostre?"

"Who wants to know?" calls a clear krogan voice from deeper in the shop and the sound of heavy footsteps is heard approaching. Stepping in through a doorway is a massive, green plated krogan with one white, blind eye that contrasts his other, golden one. He wears nothing from the waist up, leaving his scarred chest bare to see where he's had what looks like burns - most likely from his forge - too damaging for even his healing factor to repair. "Jameson," he growls, almost sounding annoyed. "What are you doing back here? Did you lose my armor because I know damn well it isn't damaged. Nothing breaks my armor."

Jameson laughs, the sound boisterous as he grins and approaches the counter between him and the krogan. "Of course not! What am I, some idiot who doesn't know good craftsmanship when he sees it?" Shaking his head, he steps aside and holds a hand out towards Jana. "I'm looking for some armor for my friend here. And we need it fast."

Girr raises a brow, humming incredulously. "You know I can't just pull armor outta my cloaca …. I need time to make something worth wearingmyname."

Jameson gives a knowing grin, his teeth shining in the lantern light as he leans an elbow on the counter. "Gold says that feat just may be possible …."

Interest piqued, the krogan matches Jameson's posture. "How much we talkin'?"

"Five hundred gold-"

"Seven-fifty," Girr interjects and Jameson makes an exaggerated, put-out sound.

"Seven-fifty? You're going to rob me blind, yastolt!" Still, he hums when all he gets in response is a grunt, thinking a moment before he leans on the counter again. "Alright … seven and you have it done by tomorrow, sundown."

Girr grumbles in the back of his throat, standing up and scratching his bare stomach. He growls to himself for a few moments before letting out a deep, raspy sigh. "Fine …. Seven hundred gold and you give me until sundown.Sundown, dammit," he says, pointing a clawed finger at Jameson, then the other three in the room. "Not before."

Grinning in victory, Jameson nods. "Done! Now" he says, finally turning to Jana and giving a jerk of his head towards Girr. "Don't let his good nature scare you, he's really just playing theoppfostre."

"One day you're going to have to explain what all these words mean," Jana says with a huff, not sure what exactly she's going to need to do to be measured up for armor. Usually, there's a scanner to do all the work, but it's obvious that it won't be so easy. "What do you need me to do?"

"Stand over here where I can see," Girr says, coming around the counter and pointing at a spot directly in the light and reaching into the pocket of the heavy leather apron tied around his waist. He fetches what looks like a tailor's ruler, though it seems made of leather punched at various sections instead of printed, as well as a piece of chalk.

Following his instruction, Jana moves into position and holds out her hands, letting the krogan begin taking his measurements. She almost feels like she's being fitted for clothing instead of armor, but figures she'd rather have perfectly fitting armor than any manner of attire that'd be useless in a fight. She watches out of the corner of her eye as Girr makes notes on the rough wood of his counter, taking note of just exactly all that he plans to match to her specifications. Finally, the krogan steps away from her and turns his attention to his numbers, waving her away.

"Go …. I have what I need." He grumbles, a rough sound rumbling in his throat as he makes some tick marks on the wood. "What kind of armor are we lookin' for?"

"Well …."

Jameson steps forward and lays a hand on Jana's shoulder. "We want protection, but maneuverability. She doesn't need a full set, but she will be in combat …. I think she'd be better with a gambeson than a true chest plate."

Girr raises a brow and looks to Jana. "You trust him to get you right?"

Shrugging with a nervous chuckle, Jana swallows. "Uh …. I don't really know anything I'll need, so yeah, I'll go with his choice. He knows what he's doing," she adds, hoping to win Jameson over. She knows her James Vega knew his stuff, so she has confidence Jameson knows his and, judging by his genuine smile, she feels like maybe she's a step closer to warming the air between them.

"Alright, fine …. I'll talk to Sephone about it." Heading towards the doorway to the back of his shop, he waves them away. "Get out of here so I can get to work …. Damn rebobs," he mutters and Jameson laughs as he leads the rest of the group towards the door.

"You'll do great work!Maker velsigne deg!" Jameson calls out with a raised hand cupping the side of his mouth, grinning at Jana and Tali when Girr yells back something.

Chapter 5: Him

Chapter Text

Getting dressed in between bites of her breakfast, Jana realizes that this may be the first time she’s ever had food not produced artificially in one way or another. It’s funny to her how complacent she was in her past life with the fact that machines produced the majority of either all or most of her food because she never really considered just what she may be missing until this very morning upon finding a small tray of food set outside the door of their room at the local inn Jon set herself and Tali in for the night.

While simple in concept, the breakfast of all real ingredients - a soft boiled egg, some thick slices of bacon, a wedge of cheese, toasted and still warm bread, blackberry fruit preserves, honey, and steaming mint tea - had to have been the best thing Jana’s ever eaten. It’s even better than the first meal after her rigorous N-training sequestered out in the middle of nowhere with nothing but a few rations and what she and her fellow trainees could find in the wilderness. Everything here tasted better than she had ever imagined when she used to watch the old vids, each ingredient showing clear signs of painstaking work into preparing.

Someone even picked all the seeds out of the blackberries …. If only Tali could taste it!

She knows she’s quite the show juggling between stuffing food into her face while it’s still hot and getting dressed if Tali’s muffled snickers are anything to go by, but Jana doesn’t give a damn. With food this good, she’d get out on the streets of the Zakera District docks and dance a jig with what little clothing she’s managed to pull on if they asked her.

“Keelah, you’re going to fall,” Tali says with a snort when Jana loses her footing while pulling her pants up.

Flexing her lips a few times to maneuver the last bit of bacon into her mouth, Jana frees both of her hands to pull up the soft brown pants she had found the day before when Liara took her to the clothing merchants in the district. She had tried to find something like a bra, but the dark green tunic she’s picked out is sure to be enough thanks to the ties up the sides she can use to create a tighter, more supportive fit around the contours of her torso.

“I really wish you could taste this,” she says as she steals a bite of toast with a hefty amount of delicious preserves smeared across it before pulling on the tunic over her head and folding its deep collar over her shoulders and upper chest. It frees her hands once more to grab another bite before washing it down with some tea. “I might even be able to forget about coffee with breakfasts like this.”

Tali hums as she plucks the handwritten note that they had found settled on top of the tray from where Jana had tucked it between the jars of preserves and honey. It’s from the innkeeper, letting them know that Jon’s paid the tab and expects them at the Normandy when they’re done, but not much else. Still, though, it interests Tali enough that Jana raises a brow at her friend’s intense scrutiny.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“This isn’t written in Standard … but we still know what it says ….”

“Of course it is,” Jana says with a scoff, taking the note when Tali offers it with a skeptical tsk of her own. “What else would it be ….”

Frowning in confusion, Jana pauses completely to read the note over again and try to pick apart the reasons why she and Tali can understand it when the text clearly doesn’t match anything she’s ever seen before.

Back home, Standard consisted of geometric symbols that always seemed more like the programming of a computer than the written language of a galaxy. She knows most of its structure came from the asari with some additions from the salarians, but the script on this piece of parchment is so much different from the one she knows. Seemingly … looser and more organic in the way the curving symbols are written.

Yet, she and Tali are able to read and understand it so easily that it felt like second nature. Their minds didn’t even comprehend that it’s different than what they knew was Standard for their reality. It’s almost as if they’ve gained an innate knowledge of this text the moment they were thrown into this world, but she has no idea how that’s possible.

“So …. You think we might know other things in this place that we don’t think we know?” Jana asks, handing the note back to her friend so she can finish getting ready.

She isn’t sure of the time, but the sun’s already up and she knows she definitely managed to get more sleep than any of the nights spent on the Normandy thanks to the wonders of a somewhat actual bed. Even if it was made of what she’s sure is straw wrapped in the fabric of the ‘mattress,’ the bed in the inn came with the feeling of solid ground, which did wonders to finally wash away the last traces of her seasickness.

By the time Tali’s wrapped her own clothing - long pieces of colorful fabric that reminds Jana of a sari by the way it’s designed to be wrapped around the body - around her waist, draped across her shoulder, and over her hood to better hide her mask, there’s a knock at the door of their room. They share a glance to ensure they’re both dressed and ready for any manner of guests before Jana goes to the door and pulls it open to the sight of Jameson, actually dressed in a long black tunic beneath his thick fur cloak instead of being barechested like yesterday.

“Jameson?” Jana raises her brows in surprise. “I thought Jon wanted us to meet at the Normandy?” She chuckles nervously, unsure if they might have done something wrong - slept in late and kept Jon from important business or broken some rule about their stay at the inn going past some cutoff time and costing Jon more money than he intended. “We were just about to leave-”

“Uh …. Yeah,” Jameson says, rubbing the back of his neck as he offers a sort of anxious smile. “We were actually expecting you a long time ago. Jon’s already at the hearing with the Council, so we better hurry if we’re going to catch the Council’s final word.”

“sh*t ….” Jana rushes to the bed and stuffs her things in the leather satchel they bought for her to use as a bag for the night here at the inn. “I’m sorry …. We had no idea ….” She shoulders the bag and offers an apologetic smile and nervous huff. “I guess I really lost track of time in a bed that wasn’t swaying in the ocean.”

Jameson chuckles and steps aside to let the two women step out of the room. “It’s alright. I’m sure it’s still a big change from your realm. It just means we need to pull a favor from someone Jon knows.”

“A favor?” Tali gives Jana and obviously dubious look from beneath her silver and deep aqua hood. “How will that get us to … the Tower, right? Isn’t that all the way in the center of the Citadel?”

As they exit out into the bustling docks of the Zakera District, Jameson jerks his head towards the Citadel as he hurries them down the long bridge dividing it from the district. “See those walls?” He points, motioning over the outer wall of the large city. “They also divide the Citadel into its districts. The Citadel Guard uses it to traverse the city and keep an eagle’s view over the districts …. Jon knows the Commander of the Guard of the Zakera Docks. He can get us access to the walls and we can be at the Tower in no time.”

“Works for me,” Tali says and Jana nods in agreement, though it’s only her friend that can probably see the gesture because, for the most part, they’ve got their full attention on Jameson’s back so as not to lose him in the crowd.

“These walls sound pretty restricted though ….”

“Hey, don’t doubt Jon’s ability to make friends out of everyone on this side of the Tartarus,” Jameson shouts now that they’re rushing through the thick of the crowds.

He only slows when a sight of a man comes into view, clad in white armor with golden accents and a flowing cape with a depiction of the Tower with a sun blazing at its crown. Jana doesn’t immediately know if she recognizes the man as a different version of someone in her own reality, and nearly comes to the conclusion that she doesn’t until Jameson calls out to him.

“Commander Bailey!” Jameson waves his massive arm to catch the man’s attention as they approach.

Jana would have never imagined seeing the C-Sec Captain turned leader of the Citadel Embassies’ security force with a thick beard, his hair similarly shaved along the sides as her universe but with his dark blonde hair braided into a thick weave that runs down the center of his head to stop just level with his ears. He looks confused at first by the approaching group, looking over the three with a hesitant narrowing of his eyes and laying a hand on the butt of his sword at his hip, as if in silent warning.

“Commander,” Jameson says as he comes to a stop before the man and stiffens his back in respect. “My name is Jameson and I’m with Jon Shepard’s crew-”

“Ah,” Bailey says, removing his hand from his sword and giving a slight nod. “He told me I might be seeing you …. Said you’d be late to something if I did,” he adds with a slight huff as he glances between Jameson, Jana, and Tali. “Who are your friends? More of Shepard’s crew?”

Jana opens her mouth but pauses at her own introduction because she’s not quite sure if Jon considers her part of his crew just yet or is waiting for her and Tali to show what they’re capable of, if they can be of use in this fight.

“Jon didn’t mention them? They are meant to join me to the Presidium.” Jameson lifts his chin, seemingly preparing to defend his claim.

Bailey hums, still looking the two women over before he gives another slight nod. “No, he told me …. Just imagined something different.” Turning back to Jameson, he lifts a thick brow. “And I expect you’re going to be asking me to do something that’s not within the law.”

Jameson grins at that exact answer. “Aye, sir …. As I said, we need to get to the Presidium and you know the Districts aren’t exactly the fastest way of getting there.”

Bailey lets out a drawn-out, almost exasperated breath as he shifts to glance sideways towards the Citadel. “Of course I do …. And I expect you’re going to ask if you can get access to the Walls.” He shifts his gaze to Jameson, a brow raised and hums in his throat when Jameson gives a nod. “The Walls … that are restricted ….”

“I figure you’d be the one to ask … and that if anyone would do a favor for Jon’s crew ….”

“I get what you’re saying,” Bailey interrupts, stopping Jameson’s lead-in with a rumble to his voice and a raised hand. “Alright … but only because I owe Jon quite the debt for helping me and only because he told me I might be expecting you.” Facing the Citadel completely with a flourish of his cape, he starts at a brisk pace, waving a hand to follow. “Come on. If you’re late for whatever Jon’s up to, we better get you movin’.”

Jameson throws Jana a victorious grin before jogging to catch up, Jana and Tali at his heels. “Many thanks for the help, Commander.”

“Yeah, yeah ….” Guiding them all the way across the bridge to the massive, wooden Citadel gates, Bailey stops and diverts them to the tower on the left side of the gate. “This’ll get you up to the Wall. I expect you know how to walk them to get to the Presidium.” Opening the tall wooden door to the darkened, lantern-lit tower, he jerks his head to go on. “Just give them my order to let you pass if anyone stops you.”

Jameson lets Jana and Tali enter and start their way up the winding, stone stairs before turning back to Bailey to yell down. “Takk, Commander! I’m sure Jon’ll send his thanks!”

The only response is the slam of the heavy door, the sound echoing through the tower as it climbs up the winding staircase around them. Jana can’t be sure how many steps they take before she’s arriving at the apparent top of the tower where a door stands and, at its right, a small, vertical aperture that lets in a bit of natural light to illuminate the small landing. She doesn’t wait to open the door so that the three of them don’t bunch up on the landing of the stairwell - that she pointedly realizes has no built-in railing or other preventative from falling.

That’d be a bad way to go …. Or at least a sure way to get some badly broken bones. And I have no clue just how good their medical treatments can really be without a simple x-ray.

Jana shields her eyes with her arm, blinking away the slight sting of the sun, and Jameson steps forward, bumping her in silent encouragement to keep moving. Tali’s right behind him as he breaks into a brisk jog and Jana only takes a moment to glance over the battlement’s wall to look down at the sandstone colored slate of the city’s rooftops. Citizens look small enough that she’s unable to place species, but she can tell that heights vary drastically in comparison to her reality where it seemed that either evolution unintentionally created uniformity or had possibly had something to do with altering effects of space travel.

No one stops them as they run along the outer wall and turn down one of the long walls dividing the districts. In fact, no one really seems to be on the walls, but Jana is sure that the shorter towers that break off from the sides of the wall must be where guards are standing. She’s watched enough movies to make the assumption that they’ve taken to a slightly higher ground to overlook the city and, to add to that, she thinks it’d make much more sense than sticking to the more level ground of the initial walls.

She sees images in her mind of guards armed with bows and crossbows standing at attention for anyone stupid enough to try doing what she, Tali, and Jameson are doing without actual permission. That, and if someone with a death wish were to attempt an attack on the Citadel or its dividing walls, a higher advantage point and skilled archers could easily subdue them quickly and leave the city guard on the ground able to handle the rest.

Catching up with the others at a tower like the one they climbed up, Jana lets out a quick breath at surprise and awe at the apparent sight of the Presidium. Encircled by the walls of the Citadel’s districts is the massive Tower, its shadow thrown down against the city like that of a sundial. Moats with actual drawbridges divide the actual districts from a smaller circle of what looks like the high spires of temples and dwellings of the obvious higher class citizens. Within this ring is an avenue around beautiful gardens and pathways cutting through them to the base of the Tower.

This inner circle is like a city in and of itself …. And it can be isolated with a simple order to draw up the bridges ….

“This place is beautiful,” Tali says as she nods and follows Jameson’s hurried wave.

“Maybe even more than our Presidium.” Jana gives the view one last look over before entering the guard tower behind Tali, taking the steps two at a time thanks to the seemingly physical weight of Jameson’s urgency.

Not that she really blames him for reminding them they’re in a hurry because it certainly takes a hell of a lot longer than in her reality to walk - jog - across the Citadel even when they don’t have to deal with the crowds. Back home, Jana had skycars to travel through the station, but here, she has to rely on her own two legs and stamina.

Thank you, Alliance endurance training … and quite literally half my life spent out in the field.

It’s when they finally reach the base of the Tower that an asari and salarian in the same armor as Commander Bailey stops them. Holding out her hand, the towering - she has to be at least seven foot - asari steps forward and holds out a hand, stern glare in her indigo eyes and a slight curl of her lip at the look of them.

“Halt,” she says, her voice deeper than a typical - from Jana’s universe and compared to Liara, anyway - asari as she drops her hand to cross it over her chest plate. “Where do you think you’re going, exactly?”

Almost as tall as her, the asari’s salarian partner nods firmly from his post at the side of the archway. “Access to the Tower is limited to dignitaries and high Guard only when not hailed by the Embassies or Council themselves.”

Jameson lays a hand on both Jana and Tali’s shoulders as he steps forward. “We are of the crew of the Normandy, Captained by Captain Jon Shepard of King Stephan Hackett’s Alliance. Captain Shepard is currently addressing the Council and we’re to be there,” he says, motioning himself and Jana and Tali behind him. “I’m sure there’s been some kind of word left behind to let us pass?”

The two guards exchange glances and the salarian gives his partner a slight nod. With the asari reclaiming her place at her side of the open archway and pointedly moving her attention away from the three before her to scan over the Presidium avenue, the salarian matches her posture by crossing his own arms and jerking his head aside towards the door.

“Hurry in. And don’t cause any trouble or you’ll have the Council guard to deal with,” he says with a slight smirk as if actually looking forward to that.

“We only mean to listen in on our superior,” Jameson says with a daring grin. “We don’t exactly have weapons, so it’s not like we’d make much trouble if we were even stupid enough to try - and don’t these two ladies look quite the opposite?” He holds one hand for Jana and Tali to pass him and enter the tall arch of the Tower doorway and the other to the two guards. “I think my companions are quite the scholars in their own. The University would be jealous!”

He backs away from the doorway a few steps while the guards refuse to answer. Walking backward behind Jana and Tali, he waits a moment before he huffs and his shoulders slump. “Maker, I’m surprised that went as well as it did,” he says, turning on his heel and smiling at the two. “Looks like this face can sway even the stiffest city guard.”

Jana chuckles, letting him lead through the surprisingly well-lit Tower main hall that creates the outer circle of the Tower’s interior with archways leading both deeper inward as well as back out into the Presidium. It’s floors of marbled stones glimmer with what Jana can swear looks like flecks of gold and its walls are covered in tapestries, paintings, and well kept for weapons and shields with intricate designs either made into their very shape or painted on well enough she could be fooled into thinking it’s been done by machine.

Coming to the foot of stone stairs climbing along the curved inner wall of this hall that must take visitors upwards through the Tower, Jameson turns to Jana and Tali. Jana is sure that within this wall are actual rooms for the embassies and dignitaries the guards had mentioned. If it’s anything like the Citadel Tower from her universe, then this entire thing must be bustling with politicians and people of high standing just behind the scenes.

“We’ll be forever climbing to the top where the Council holds court,” he says, his voice lowered as he lays a hand on the carved wood of the stair railing. “Luckily, there’s a machine that can take us up. It’s the most advanced thing in all of Alysim.” He puts a finger to his lips before waving to follow. “The scholars are said to have spent near a century to build it,” he says softly as if to not disturb those within the Tower as they walk deeper into its circular design of halls and rooms.

“And they’ll just let us use it?” Tali asks, her voice lowered to match his, but her head moving all about as she takes in the Tower’s lower floor. Jana’s sure Tali is just like her in trying to imagine just how much more detailed and opulent the higher floors will be. “Won’t they give us an even harder time?”

“Surprisingly? Not as much as you’d think,” Jameson says with a smile as he brings them to a room that Jana feels is close to the center of the Tower. Gripping the golden handle of the door, he scratches his neck nervously. “I just gotta … talk the Doyen to let us use it ….”

Jana raises a brow in sudden skepticism of Jameson’s ability to sweet talk some high official. It’s not that she doesn’t think Jameson’s a smart man - he hasn’t given her any reason to doubt him - but if the Guard was as suspicious of them as they were, then what’s someone whose sole job is to tend to the higher class of citizen going to think when the three ragtag people enter the room asking to use some advanced, highly prized machine? The Guard is probably more used to the average citizen - she thinks if they are rotated much like C-Sec was in her universe - but this Doyen, whatever that is, may not even know what an average citizen even looks like with a job in such an overly extravagant place.

When the door opens into a large room with bustling men and women in long gowns in colors from light taupe to slightly off and pure white with gold detailing much like the vids’ depictions of those of higher intelligence instead of physical prowess. A salarian in a bright white robe, their horns covered in a hood with a golden hem that shines in the light, hurriedly moves to intercept the three from coming closer to what looks suspiciously like the open-air compartment of an elevator.

Jana doesn’t think elevators were really invented anywhere close to the type of historical period so similar to this reality, but she can easily tell that the goldened-barred caged compartment with long, thick chains rising straight up the entirety of the Tower and into a massive cog against the far wall must make some kind of lift system. There are carvings in the metal of the entire mechanism, even in the chains and they glow faintly with shimmering, shifting colors and she has a feeling that this construction relies on magic as well as physics, which could explain the reason why such an advanced - seemingly for this reality - machine can exist and function well enough that they entrust the heads of their government to be safe using it.

“Who are you?” The salarian asks, her voice sharp as she gives them no time to actually answer her interrogation. “What are you doing here? Who let you in the Tower? Under whose permission? Guards!” She jerks her head around, looking for someone to apparently remove them from not only the room but perhaps the Tower itself.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jameson says in a rush, holding his hands up to catch her attention. “Madam Doyen, we’re here under the orders of Alliance Captain Jon Shepard.” He drops his hands and stiffens his back, clearing his throat. “I think you’ll know him better as Templar Jon Shepard.”

“Former Templar Jon Shepard,” she says, her tone mimicking Jameson’s as she huffs. “Yes, he was here recently to see the Council.”

“So you must know he was expecting me and my companions. We’re … unfortunately very late.”

“I see … or you’d be using the steps same as anyone else ….” The salarian huffs and looks back at the ‘machine’ before giving Jameson a side glance. She narrows her eyes and examines the three a moment before sighing. “Alright,” she says, flipping her hand as she turns to the machine and begins to motion some of the others in robes around the room. “I’ll only allow this because I feel I owe Captain Shepard, if only by extension. I was in the Presidium Gardens when Saren’s geth attacked,” she explains as she steps to a podium of sorts, strange carvings on its surface. “If not for him appearing out of nowhere to defeat the geth searching the Gardens, I wouldn’t be here.” Looking to her men attending the large cog and seemingly getting into position to activate it, she gives a nod and turns to one beside the elevator. “Let them in.”

A human man in a darker tan robe dips his head before pulling open the golden gate of the elevator. Waving them on, he steps inside after them and pulls the door closed. That seems to be the signal for the others because the Doyen gives a jerk of her head and starts to trace her fingers along the carvings in the stone before her and the others at the cog push and pull on its chains to get it started moving.

The elevator jerks slightly when it initially gets started, but it otherwise rises with a decent amount of steadiness. At least, it’s more than Jana expected when she saw the thing and first thought of it as an unpredictable death trap. Even though she can’t see his face, the man’s posture tells her enough of his confidence in the machine as they ride it higher and higher up the central chamber of the Tower.

“Don’t worry,” the man says without turning around and Jana notices Jameson release a breath as if he’d been holding it without her noticing, “This machine is the shining achievement of the Imperial University. Not that we haven’t given Eros plenty of other advancements, but this is something even the Protheans don’t seem to have had.”

The pride radiating off of the man seems to ease Jameson some and Jana gives the bigger man a concerned raise of her brows. Obviously, Jameson doesn’t trust it, probably hasn’t been on an elevator in his entire life, and perhaps has a bit of fear in the seemingly otherworldly technology. She shifts over to bump her arm to his in silent solidarity, though doesn’t speak of her own fear of heights, thankful that she’s in a spot on the elevator where its flooring is large enough to block her view in all directions unless she actively goes looking for a glimpse at the bottom of the vertical tunnel.

Jameson glances her way and smiles, a bit of appreciation in his expression, and she smiles back. Something about having him on one side and Tali on the other helps some with her feeling of weightlessness and the nagging feeling of just how high they’re going. Their presence helps a hell of a lot more than the nameless man’s assurances, anyway.

The slowing of the elevator’s climb is a bit more unsteady as the lift-off and Jana’s hands snap to Tali and Jameson on each side, gripping their arms as if it’d protect her if the lift’s floor suddenly plummeted from beneath her feet. Tali hums softly, covering Jana’s hand and Jana forces herself to loosen her grip on Jameson so as not to make the man uncomfortable. They may have bonded a bit the day previous, but she can tell there’s still a lot of question and hesitance between them. She doesn’t blame him for it, knowing she’d have the same feelings if she were in his shoes, and she doesn’t want to break that building acceptance with some inappropriate grabbing and clawing at him in a fear that’s slowly easing as they elevator finally stops.

“This is where we get off,” Jameson jokes lightly, a nervousness to his voice as he steps closer to the man as if to urge him into opening the door.

The man either doesn’t seem to notice or does and just doesn’t care as he takes his time unlatching and slowly opening the gated door. He stands in the way for just a split second that Jana can swear Jameson is silently cursing over before finally stepping aside.

“I don’t imagine Doyen Neyori will allow you three to use the Conveyor without proper orders-”

“Well, that’s fine,” Jameson says, hands on Tali and Jana’s backs to rush them out of the lift. He drops them as soon as they step onto the solid ground of the stone landing and gives a quick, yet hesitant glance back at the elevator. “We’ll walk next time …. No rush then ….”

The man merely hums, the sound almost skeptical of the idea of using stairs to get down when there’s their elevator to use.

I sure as hell know I trust the stairs more than that damn death trap waiting to happen. Century in the making or not, I still have my doubts about a medieval elevator run by nothing but hopes in magic and a pulley and chain system.

“Come on,” Jameson says quietly, heading to the door that’ll take them out to whatever lies outside of this inner room. Letting Jana and Tali take the first step into the hall, he clears his throat once he secures the door behind him. “Let’s not do that again ….”

“Agreed,” Jana says and Tali joins her in giving an agreeing nod. “Jesus, I hate heights.”

“I’m not so bothered by them, but that was something I don’t really want to do every day.” Tali takes up the rear as Jameson leads them back out to the outer hall where stairs that lead upwards begin on the landing. “Do the stairs really come all the way up?”

“Oh yeah, there are stairs from the ground to the Council’s Chambers.” Jameson starts up the stairs, taking two at a time, though not as in much of a hurry as before it seems. “The stairs level out for each level of the Tower’s floors, but they start back up again just a ways around the curve. There are guards at the entrance to this level, though ….”

When they all step up that top step, they come face to face with a set of ornate double doors seeming to be made of pure gold. Two asari guards in majorly gold armor with few white accents - an opposite design to the Citadel Guard down below - hold spears at their sides and don’t look down from a spot on the far wall as Jameson leads Jana and Tali forward.

“Council Guard,” Jameson greets with a steady voice and dip of his head. “We’re here for the Council hearing with Alliance Captain Jon Shepard and Master Liara T’Soni.”

“They’re still in session,” one of the asari says, her eyes still hyper-focused on the opposite wall. “Enter.”

Jameson gives Jana a glance, clearly out of his element in this place where it seems only the elite of the elite are allowed. She shrugs slightly, unsure herself even though, in her time, she’s seen the Council and been in their Chambers plenty of times. Hell, when she first became Spectre, she had free access to the Chambers. So much so that she was comfortable enough in the area and knew its possible cover available to try and talk Saren down in their final confrontation like the back of her hand.

I’m still not sure if I failed or succeeded there …. He ended up taking his own life of his own free will, but not before letting Sovereign in to attack the Citadel. Not after all the hell he gave me chasing him around the galaxy and trying to save people left in his wake.

They enter into a large chamber room, the roof either made of skylights or open to let the sun shine in on a garden of trees that ran along the center of the staircase leading towards where she could hear the Council at session. The white trees’ pale red leaves whisper as they rustle softly, some breaking off to float down and collect at the trees’ base. Jana can hear the slight babbling of the brook that weaves between the trees in this small garden as they climb the stairs, passing listeners to the hearing as they stand in small groups about the stairs and its few landings.

“Without guarantee that this ‘device’ of yours will work, of how it works, we cannot grant you the necessary aid you’re requesting,” Jana hears an asari voice say.

Climbing to a landing just below where Jon and Liara stand before the familiar Council, Jana and the others stop to listen in without drawing attention away from Jon’s plight. She frowns at the atmosphere of the room despite the attempt at calm between everyone with how the room is designed around a pond setting the Council apart from the rest of the room. The soft sounds of the pond is like a disorganized symphony of disappointment and failure as she rubs her brow, a headache forming at hearing the same damn thing here as was told to her.

She knows how it ended for her Council and she can’t see any possibility of anything different coming to pass unless Jon can pull a miracle out of his sleeve.

“Council, please,” Jon says, his voice assured as he crosses his hands at the small of his back and lifts his chin. His long jacket sways slightly as he takes a step forward on the flat platform meant for those addressing the Council. “If we wait, it will be too late. We must band together …. The Reapers plan to divide us, weaken us so that we are easy to overcome, but we can stop that. Right here, right now. I just need aid for the King in constructing the Crucible.”

“How can we justify taking soldiers from our homelands, from protecting our people, to join in this alliance of yours when you don’t even know how this Crucible will work?” The turian councilor says, but his next words fall silent in Jana’s ears as she truly sees what this world’s turians really look like.

Holy crap, they are huge and … and … and wings?

She jerks her gaze to Tali to see if her friend is seeing what she’s seeing and the stunned look in her friend’s wide eyes tells her everything.

These turians truly are giants … with wings.

His body itself stands around the same height as the asari Jana’s been seeing around the Citadel, but he has massive wings tucked up at his back. Even folded up as they are, she can tell his wingspan could be close to thirty feet. They add a good two feet to his overall height, making him seem to tower over the other species as he shifts, the natural light glistening off of the gold collar around his cowl.

His cape sways as he turns slightly to his fellow Councilors and draws in his mandibles. “Why didn’t this work for the Protheans?”

The salarian Councilor nods and tucks his hands into the long sleeves of his red robe. “Yes, if the Protheans left us the plans for this device, then certainly they would have used it, found this ‘Catalyst.’”

Jon and Liara, just like Jana and her Liara back in the other reality, have no answer and Jana can see Jon visible swallow down his disappointment. Liara - dressed in a type of body-snug, golden tunic that covers from her shoulders, across her breasts, and down the center of her belly to disappear within a slightly sheer skirt of yellow that fades into green and pools around her bare feet - clasps her hands together and tries once more.

“Councilors,” she says, eyes locking on the asari Councilor’s dark slate ones that match her hooded dress beneath a light cream shawl, a golden flower crown settled just across her forehead and around her crests. “Please,” Liara tries with a frown before glancing at the other two alien Councilors before looking to Councilor Udina in a dark brown and slate tunic with gold stripes crisscrossing across his chest and lining the collar of his slate robe. “This will work. We can construct the Crucible as we search for the answer to the Catalyst. We must work together.”

“They’re right,” Udina pleads. “The Reapers are already assaulting Terra. My people are in need ….”

“Word has it that they’ve attacked Palaven as well,” the turian Councilor, Sparatus if Jana remembers correctly, interjects. “If your King wishes for aid, then my people demand the same.”

“And for that, we cannot allow.” The asari Councilor, Tevos in Jana’s universe, lifts her chin and squares her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Captain, but our people come first. As much as you and Councilor Udina wish it were untrue, the harsh reality is that while the Reapers are attacking Terra and the human people, our people are given time to prepare.”

Even Sparatus seems to take the words as a hit as his mandibles twitch and he looks away, his head still but eyes diverting from everyone to focus on the colorful fish lazily swimming within the pond at his feet. Jon, though, does drop his head as the salarian Councilor - Valern, if the others are true - agrees and calls for a close to this hearing.

Jana lets out a long, tired breath as she watches Jon and Liara take their leave, Jon still managing to show enough respect to make eye contact and dip his head while Liara mirrors him, though only slightly. He takes a few steps back before turning as a true Alliance soldier would no matter the world. Face an emotionless mask, he climbs down the stairs and leads the others towards the lower levels of the Chambers.

Jana frowns, biting her lip at words she can’t think of to say to assuage the others’ disappointment. It won’t really help to say that her own talk with the Council went much the same. All she can hope for is that someone can step forward to help where there was no one in her universe.

“I can’t believe they can’t see why we need to work together,” Jameson finally says, crossing his arms with a scowl as he looks aside, almost avoiding Jon and Liara’s gazes.

Jon lets out a deep breath through his nose, solemn in his expression, but the true hurt and worry in his eyes shining bright. “I don’t blame them,” he says, shocking the other man, and nods at the incredulous question in Jameson’s eyes. “They’re scared …. They’re thinking of what their people must think, of what will keep their people safe ….”

“You mean complacent,” Jameson says with a scoff.

“Looks like you need someone with some actual pull around here,” a voice calls.

A voice that makes Jana’s blood run cold and heart stop when a sharp blade stabs straight through her chest.

It’s Him ….

Chapter 6: Atheling Garrus Vakarian

Chapter Text

No one but Tali realizes how Jana stiffens, her eyes widened and glistening as she swallows down her emotions when Jon’s Garrus climbs the steps.

He’s … beautiful …. So unmarred and with that co*cky grin I haven’t seen in so long ….

He’s not your Garrus. You have to remember that …. He doesn’t even know who you are ….

She gives her head a slight shake, dropping it to clench her eyes against the guilt. Of course, this turian coming to join them isn’t her Garrus. Her husband is dead, nothing more than a memory and ring around her neck. She reaches for it, laying a hand on her tunic over where it lay and gives an apology to her Garrus, shame thick in her blood as she trembles slightly with the effort to center herself enough to lift her head, look this Garrus in the eye, and let the inevitable introductions pass.

“Garrus!” Jon grins at his obvious friend - of course, Garrus is a friend. He was my best friend before my lover so why would it be any different for Jon? - and joins the very tall version of Garrus as he takes the final step up onto their level.

The two exchange a firm clasp of forearms in greeting and Jana frowns at the sheer happiness in Garrus’ face at seeing Jon. They look like brothers seeing each other after a long time, and of partners ready to step into hell together and deal with whatever trouble that may come.

Just like mine ….

Clad in a tunic that drapes in an asymmetrical design of layers across his chest and fades from silver to dark gray and extends longer at his back than the front, this Garrus is easily a bit over seven foot with wings the color of his silver plates and tawny hide that add an additional two feet to his imposing figure. The multitude of clasps running up his tall boots glimmer in the sunlight, but what really catches Jana’s eye is the large, crystal clear, blue jewel pinned to his tunic and blue, embroidered shawl draped over his fringe.

They’re the perfect color to match his face paints.

And his face is so untouched, unscarred by physical and emotional pain ….

“It’s so good to see you,” Jon says, his eyes full of genuine relief as he smiles up at the tall turian. “I won’t be able to do this without you.”

“Of course not. Anyone else watching your back will just be a pale comparison.” Garrus purrs in pride as he grins in response to Jon’s short, but amused laugh. “Plus, you take me into all the best battles.”

“Excuse me speaking out, but looking forward to ‘all the best battles’ is not the place for the Atheling of Palaven,” a silvery turian clad in full armor behind Garrus intercedes, his back ramrod straight as he lifts his chin and tucks his hands behind his back.

Garrus’ vocals buzz in obvious annoyance as he flicks his mandibles and glances at the other turian, one of three dressed in black, almost draconic armor with blue incorporated in small sections and a long, dark blue cloak. Jana imagines they are some kind of guard by their uniformity, only the female wearing what looks like a bit of a lighter grade armor so that robes can be incorporated around her waist and legs as well as a deep hood that almost entirely covers her aubergine-colored plates. A crooked staff sits on her back while the other two - both males - have more physical weapons, the one speaking a long sword with a dragon’s head pommel and the other an axe with a similar dragon carved into its head.

“Severus,” Garrus starts with that low buzz of exasperation rolling through his vocals, “These are my friends, not some gawking dignitaries you need to try and intimidate with titles and pointless tradition.” His vocals calm when the man huffs and Garrus hums in satisfaction as he turns back to Jon and the others.

Jon moves to speak, turning aside to hold a hand out towards Jana and Tali, but his voice is drowned out by the sheer weight of Garrus’ gaze as he takes Jana in. His mandibles flare just slightly and she swallows down that churning and rapid beating in her chest.

Stepping around Jon, Garrus thrums warmly and gives her a smile that makes her catch her breath. “Salve,” he purrs with a slight dip of his head as he stands before her. “My name is Garrus Vakarian of Cipritine. May I ask yours, dominae?”

She feels there’s a too long moment of silence in the room as everything focuses on just the two of them. Jana’s eyes search his beautiful, unscarred - and seemingly so young - features and she knows the sound coming from him, knows this between them is immediately more than a cordial greeting. Part of her perks up from its cold, dark hole it’s been hiding in for so long, but another, stronger part of her stamps it down just as suddenly.

Control yourself …. He isn’t yours.

“Jana,” she says, swallowing quickly to moisten her dry mouth. “Jana Shepard ….”

“Jana,” he repeats, his vocals singing as he tilts his head slightly as if thinking the sound of her name over before smiling. “Shepard ….” He leaves the rest open in question and it’s then that Jon steps up to gain Garrus’ attention once more.

Smiling, Jon stands between Jana and Tali, motioning both. “Jana is joined by her dear friend Tali here. They are from another realm than our own,” he adds before Garrus can do more than hum in confusion. “We’re hoping that they may be able to offer some insight into fighting the Reapers because they were a similar war of their own.” He clears his throat and leaves Jana and Tali’s side, being sure to keep Garrus’ attention as he moves to Jameson. “Jameson here has been with me since Earth. He and Liara have seen first hand what the Reapers are doing to my homeland,” he says with a frown. “If you have any ideas, please, tell us.”

Garrus rumbles and nods. “I came here for my father, trying to do the same thing you were.” He scoffs and jerks his head towards the stairs that lead to the Council’s pedestals, now empty. “As you can imagine, I got the same answer. The Council isn’t willing to do anything,” he says with a growl of frustration, clicking his mandibles as he looks down to Jon. “They’re afraid and doing the only thing they know, hoping the Citadel will protect them.”

“We’re helping our people the only way we know how,” a voice interjects as Councilor Sparatus approaches from his previous side of the Chambers. “This is about keeping the entirety of Eros calm while we work to create our defenses. It would be a disaster if the people knew of the destruction the Reapers are bringing down upon the land.”

“They need to know. It was your damn duty to remind the Council of its goal of unity, Councilor,” Garrus says with irritation ringing through his vocals. “I came for aid and now Cipritine is under attack while you sit in your opulent Citadel.”

Councilor Sparatus pulls his mandibles tight to his jaw and it seems almost as if he’s chewing on his sharp remark, which is surprising to Jana because, in her reality, the Councilor wouldn’t take such attitude lightly. He was a stern man and quick to judge her every move and she never acted so ….

He’s hotheaded just like when we first met, so full of fire ….

“You’d do well to watch your tone, Atheling,” The Councilor responds, his vocals like sandpaper as he holds back any further sign of offense. “You should still show respect no matter your place in the Hierarchy. If your father had come to the Council to request aid-”

“If my father had come, then Cipritine would be without its Primarch when the Reapers attacked.”

Jana’s mouth opens slightly in shock at the insinuations flying and she hears Tali lean over and whisper, “Primarch? Father?”

Councilor Sparatus is quiet a moment, proof that he sees the truth in Garrus’ words, but he finally speaks. “Your sister would have made a better prospect to convince the Council of the urgency ….”

Garrus obviously understands that the statement wasn’t directly intended for a response and flicks his mandible in what Jana remembers is a gesture very similar to a human eye roll as he looks away from the older turian back to Jon.

“Even my father didn’t think I’d be successful here,” he says, ignoring the Councilor scoff under his breath. “So we’ve planned for ways to go around the Council. I’ve already sent word to Palaven of what happened here when I had a hearing with the Council, but I had a feeling you’d be at the head of any efforts coming from Terra as soon as I heard of the Reapers’ attack,” he adds with a slight thrum of sympathy. “Good to know your King’s finally admitting you’re the only one who can fight this fight for the humans.”

“For everyone,” Jon corrects with a nod, scratching his jaw. “But I’m more interested in this plan of yours and your father’s.”

Garrus rumbles in understanding and motions to walk with him, leading the group down the stairs towards the large double doors out of the Chambers. “If the Council isn’t going to create an alliance, then it’s time to go to the heads of the peoples, appeal directly to the rulers.” His brow plates lower as he hums anxiously. “With the Reapers finally here, we need this now more than ever. We can’t stand to wait around for bureaucracy. We’d just be wading through mud around here.” He gives a quick glance over the group as one of his guards step before him to push open the doors. “I’m heading to Cipritine ….”

“This may prove very dangerous, Sir,” the female of his guard says with a concerned hum but he rumbles and shakes his head against her advised caution.

“I’m not sitting around while Reapers burn my home to the ground.” He growls, obviously imagining the state of his home.

Jana knows her reality’s Palaven took a huge hit when she looked down on it back on Menae. It was a horrible mess of destruction and fire, so she really worries just how easy it’ll be to find this Garrus’ Primarch, even if he’s apparently Garrus’ father.

“I’m with you,” Jon says with a hand on Garrus’ shoulder and a quick nod. “I don’t see any other way either, so if you have a plan, I’m with you.” He grins up at the hopeful Garrus who’s slowly matching his confidence with his own growing smirk. “Besides, you’re going to need some help getting to Cipritine.”

“Wouldn’t have anyone else,” Garrus says with a rumble.

“Captian Shepard,” calls an urgent, yet firm voice and the group turns back to see Councilor Sparatus climbing down the steps to catch them before closing the Chamber doors.

Immediately, Jon takes a respective stance, hands at his back and shoulders square. The others of the group look to each other in confusion but Garrus and his guards seem more intrigued by the hurried call for attention.

Stopping before Jon, Councilor Sparatus reaches to his long black and gold jacket and fetches a rolled up piece of parchment. “The Council has deemed it appropriate to return to you your Templar title and all the powers that come with it.”

Jon’s brows shoot up in surprise, but he takes the scroll and dips his head in gratitude. “Thank you, Councilor. It’s an honor to be considered one of the Council’s Templars once more.”

“And it’s not just a name without clout now,” Garrus adds with a rumble and quick glance to the Councilor. “People will listen to a Templar.”

Councilor Sparatus doesn’t respond, doesn’t even look to Garrus as he dips his head to Jon in goodbye before returning back into the Council Chambers. Garrus’ guard pushes the doors closed as Jon moves the rolled up scroll around in his hands, almost in awe.

“I don’t know why, but it feels like more of an honor this time ….”

Rumbling to get Jon’s attention, Garrus tilts his head in question to keep moving. “We’re doing more than chasing a rogue Templar now. That’s got to feel like something.”

Jameson huffs anxiously. “Yeah … like a whole lot of people are looking to you for this war.”

“Unfortunately,” Jon says, tucking the scroll into his naval jacket, “I think that may be exactly what they’re looking for.” Steeling himself for a moment, Jon’s gaze is distant as he narrows his eyes slightly before returning to the others with a firm, confident nod. “And that’s what we’ll do. Because no one else can do what we can.”

“And we’ll find out the Catalyst,” Liara adds with only some of the same enthusiasm, obviously still concerned after the Council hearing.

Humming with confidence though, Garrus’ mandibles flare as he gives Jon that conspiring look Jana knows too well. “And we’ll drag them to victory whether they want us to or not.”

“We need to get you to Cipritine first,” the one of Garrus’ guard that hasn’t spoken yet says, a hum of consideration in his vocals as he takes a few steps to Garrus’ side.

Something about him seems familiar, but almost as if she knows a younger version of him. It takes only a moment before she realizes why the voice - even slightly aged as it is - and purple stripes of paint on his mandibles comes to mind.

This is Sidonis, the man who betrayed her deceased husband and who begged for death as retribution. A death that she gladly let Garrus have.

How could it be so different that this Garrus actually has the man protecting him as an apparently well trusted guard?

“Very true.” Jon nods in agreement as they reach the door to the elevator. “The Imperial Gate will take us to Taetrus and we can ride to Cipritine from there. I don’t think taking the Normandy is the safest choice.”

“Agreed. If the Reapers are at Cipritine, then they have control of the Apien Sea.” Garrus hums and rubs his thumb along his mandible, thinking over their strategy. “As much as I want to be there for my father with a quick escape on the Normandy, the Reapers are bound to be well aware of her. They’ll be looking for you and your ship,” he says to Jon and Jon frowns, nodding at the truth.

“The Normandy is going to be a blessing and a burden in this war.” Sighing, Jon runs a hand over his closely cut hair. “We’ll need to travel by land when we can.”

“Agreed,” Liara says as Sidonis of Garrus’ guard move to open the door to the elevator’s chambers. “And I’ll see if I can share the information of the Crucible with the scholars of the University in hopes that they can further translate it. Maybe there’s something EDI and I have missed.”

“Be careful when you do.” Jon stops them before Garrus’ female guard can fully open the door, gathering Liara, Jameson, Garrus, Jana, and Tali close. “The Councilor is right in his concerns about inciting panic,” he says, voice low but completely serious. “If the scholars so much as let it slip that we may have a mysterious device that can destroy the Reapers, then people may spread the word … and we all know that the Reapers have Corrupted amongst the populace.” He looks to each in the group. “We all know they’ll do anything to quell resistance.”

Liara closes her eyes and dips her head slightly. “Yes … Yes, you’re right ….” Thinking it over, she looks at him with a new idea showing clearly in her eyes. “I’ll request copies of their descriptions, of translations and patterns.”

Jon smiles and steps away to let the others free from his conspiring circle to relax. “That’s perfect. Get what you can when we reach the University. I have plenty to prepare for our travel.” He looks to Garrus. “I expect you do as well?”

“Actually, our things are gathered to leave already. Like I said, I’ve just been waiting to see when you’d finally arrive,” he jokes with an amused rumble before turning to the female of his group. “Mierin, you and the others go gather our things and meet us at the Imperial University. I plan to assist Jon any way he needs to get out of here faster.”

“Is going alone really wise?” Severus crosses his arms and pulls in his mandibles as if the idea has put a bad taste in his mouth. “We’re your guard, not your servants.”

“You’re right,” Garrus says to the man with grayish blue paints along his brow plates and in a stripe down the center of his mouth plates. “But someone will need to go alert the servants to gather up our things and you might as well save the time sending a messenger and go yourselves.” He glances at the other two guards who nod in understanding, agreement clear in their expressions. “And I’m perfectly safe on my own with Jon and his crew. Just be sure not to scratch Nightingale,” he says to Severus with a smirk and challenging rumble to his voice.

Severus merely flicks his mandible and ignores the obvious jab, turning to enter the elevator chambers. He moves to what looks like a horn from a nearly unheard of music player - phonograph, she thinks - she only knows from movies considered practically ancient for her universe. She hadn’t originally seen it from their lift ride up here, but figures it a logical addition to this room in order for the one level to speak to the other and call for the elevator.

Jameson fidgets uncomfortably and his gaze moves over her and Tali before turning to Jon. “Uh … Is using this thing really necessary? It’s definitely not the most … comfortable of experiences.”

Jana has to admit that she fully agrees with him on that, but she knows taking the stairs will be closer to an hour than the few minutes it took to ride the lift. She knows they could shave some time off if they took the stairs at a faster pace, but she’d rather not tire herself out when she knows that’d also mean she’d have to traverse the city itself. The fact that Jameson would rather do that than try and swallow his fear really makes her wonder how well conditioned these people are here.

And just how out of shape I’m going to seem in comparison.

“That’s an awful lot of stairs,” Garrus says with a chuckle. “I’ve walked them before and, trust me, it’s not really all that fun.”

Jameson makes a disgruntled noise and Jon chuckles.

“Looks like you’re taking the Conveyor, Jameson.” Jon pats Jameson hard on the back before giving Severus a questioning raise of his brows. “Are they sending it up?”

“Yes, sir,” the turian says with a curt nod. “However, there’s not enough room for all of us. I suggest we go separately and Templar Shepard take his own crew after.”

Looking over the group, Jana admits the man has a point. Garrus and Severus are the tallest of the group, but Sidonis and Meirin - isn’t she one of Archangel’s lost teammates? - are not that much shorter. Plus, the three are in what looks like heavy, dense armor. She doesn’t know just how much the elevator can carry safely, but she definitely remembers that it isn’t big enough for all of them while still having some room to even breathe.

Humming, Garrus huffs a laugh. “I think you three can wait for the lift. You are the heaviest with your full armors.”

“Is that still safe?” Jana asks nervously, giving them a forced chuckle when everyone looks to her. “I don’t know the limits, but it still seems like a lot of weight …. And a … primitive elevator ….” She peeters off at the end, not wanting to really insult them and their universe’s advancements, but unable to hide her trepidation about the slow descent and every possibility of the lift failing.

“If you’d like …” Garrus starts, pausing to mull over his words with a timid rumble. “If you’d like, I could be close to you? I mean … that way if it fails - Not that I think it’d fail …. But if you don’t like the idea …. Not that it’d happen because the Conveyor is very safe …. But I could stand by you and catch you if something happens?” he asks more than says, offer awkward as his wings fidget, opening just slightly before snapping back closed at his back. “Nevermind …. It’s fine. Nothing will happen …. Don’t worry. Forget I said anything ….”

Tali subtly elbows Jana in the side, but Jon thankfully distracts the group as he clears his throat.

“There’ll be no need to worry about falling. I’ve heard of the Conveyor handling much heavier when they were testing it and it’s said that it didn’t even wobble.” He smiles at Jana and winks, saying, “Don’t worry. The chamber is big enough for Garrus and his Praetorians to use their wings to follow from above without ever setting foot on the Conveyor.” He chuckles and lays a hand on her shoulder. “That’ll only leave you, Tali, Jameson, Liara, and me to actually ride the Conveyor down with the operator.”

Scoffing slightly, Severus shakes his head once. “It’s highly unbecoming of us to use our wings. It’s turian custom when at the Citadel to-”

Garrus waves the other turian away with an annoyed hum. “What are wings for if custom dictates we can’t use them?” Smirking, he rumbles at Jon and the others. “They only exist because we make the other races jealous.”

“I’d much rather not have them, thank you very much,” Tali retorts with a snort as she looks to Jana, a smile in her eyes.

Jana huffs a weak laugh. “Yeah … I’ll stick to the ground.”

“It’s not so bad,” Garrus says softly, almost sad as his mandibles twitch against his mouth as the lift slows to a stop at the landing. Taking a step back to give the others room to enter the elevator, Garrus thrums softly down to Jana and smiles. “Don’t worry. It’s perfectly safe, I promise …. I mean ….” He hums and his mandibles flutter a bit as he rubs his neck and avoids her eyes. “Yeah ….” He shuffles on his feet, backing away as Tali nudges her to enter the chamber and climb onto the lift. “We’ll, uh, be right down after you.”

Jana can’t help the slight smile at his awkwardness, but hides it so that it becomes something only for herself as she ducks her head. She’s sure Tali senses it, though, because her friend reaches down and takes her hand, giving it a slight squeeze. Jana can almost feel the vibration of excitement and delight from Tali through their hands and, though she knows she has no right to, Jana feels a bit of it herself.

Here she is, preparing to join Jon and travel with Garrus … and if the two men are anything like she and her Garrus were, then there’s no way they’ll separate so long as there are Reapers to fight. There’s no Shepard without Vakarian, no matter the universe. She’s sure of it. As sure as her blood is crimson.

Tali’s grip helps ease some of the jitters from the slight shake of the elevator initially starting its descent. Jana finds that looking up to the four turians waiting at the landing above eases her mind more than imagining the ground closing in from below. Eventually, though, she starts to feel their attention shift down to the lift and its occupants, so she averts her gaze to the wall before her so she doesn’t happen to catch Garrus’ eyes with her own.

The elevator ride seems to descend faster than it rose, which seems to make Jameson as happy as it does Jana. Soon, the lift gives a slight tremble as it settles on the ground and the man from before opens the doors to allow the group to exit. The Doyen is still here, tending to her crew before turning to Jon and approaching just as he sets foot on the stone floor of the chamber.

“Captain Shepard, I hear rumor you’re title has been reinstated,” she says, cupping her chin. “Is it true?”

Jon chuckles slightly and nods, offering her the scroll from his jacket. She unrolls it, eyes flicking over the writing quickly as she gives a slight hum. Seemingly satisfied, she nods and begins to roll the parchment back together.

“Yes, well, it seems that everything is in order.” Handing it back, she takes a step aside to let them pass. “Word will spread fast, I’m sure. The Conveyor will be at your service should you need access to the Council Chambers, Templar.”

“My thanks,” Jon says with a duck of his head, slipping the scroll into his jacket once more.

A shadow falls over the ground, calling everyone’s attention upward and Jana looks up and immediately, her mouth falls open in awe.

It happens so fast, but Garrus is first as he practically dives down the chambers, wings looser but not yet fully extended. She can feel her own stomach drop with him as horrors run through her mind, but just before reaching the ground, he rearranges himself midair, pulling his head and torso up and pushing his feet down as his wings finally open. Catching himself with the sudden resistance of air against the tawny hide of his large wings, Garrus’ wings flap once before he lands in the sudden clearing the robed men and women have made in their surprise at seeing him.

Just as quickly as they were thrown open, Garrus’ massive wings fold back in to tuck themselves behind his back once more. Jana imagines his wingspan close to thirty-five feet though they barely managed to completely open within the suddenly small seeming chambers. Closed as they are, she now notices how, at their longest, they must curl inward slightly to keep from dragging on the floor and each boney finger ends in a talon very similar to the ones on the three fingers of his actual hands.

She realizes she’s been staring when her eyes glance up to find his similarly on her. She swallows, blushing slightly at the same time his mandibles flutter and he quickly looks away. Sure to do the same, Jana turns to Jon for the next word of his plans.

“No flying in my chambers!” the Doyen shouts, though the last of Garrus’ guard, Sidonis, ignores her as he lands, righting his gear as his lighter tan wings draw in.

“Our apologies, madam Doyen,” Jon says, smiling when she scoffs and leaves them to turn her shouts on those working in the chambers. Waiting for everyone’s full attention, Jon clears his throat and looks between each member of the group. “If we’re to use the Imperial Gate at the University, then we need to gather our things. I need crew and supplies.”

“And I could do with some more supplies for the ride,” Garrus agrees, nodding with a rumble. “I say we separate, gather our things, and meet at the University. Being a Templar once again, they won’t give you much trouble for arriving without notice.”

Jon chuckles slightly. “And with you being Prince of Palaven, the Scholars aren’t bound to give you much trouble.”

Tali leans closer to Jana and whispers, “Prince?” but Jana barely hears her over the shock of learning just exactly who Garrus is to his people. ‘Atheling’ isn’t a word she knows, but ‘Prince?’

She damn well knows how important a Prince is.

Chapter 7: What Have I Gotten Myself Into?

Chapter Text

Jana is pleasantly surprised when she finds that citizens of the Citadel aren’t exactly restricted to only walking to get around the big city. Though not present in the Presidium to clog up the pristine view of gardens and golden cobblestones, Jon mentions that there are carriages for those willing to pay that can traverse the stone streets of the city with greater ease and speed than by foot alone.

Jon leads the group through the avenue and northeast to a drawbridge that crosses the moat filled with crystal clear water in which fish - many quite a bit larger than the few in the Council Chamber’s pond and all either just as colorful or even more vibrant - swim to the bridge as if trained to seek food at people’s approach. Jana can envision young children from the opulent homes around the Presidium coming to the bridges to throw food into the waters or gaze down at the aquatic flowers and lily pads that float elegantly at the moat’s steep banks.

She also wonders what would happen if someone accidentally fell in the deep water. With its level so low in comparison to the bridge and Presidium’s ground in order to prevent attackers from swimming across, it would seem quite difficult to pull together a rescue for any poor fool that either slipped in or decided to try his luck at a quick swim.

“What happens if people fall in?” Tali asks and Jana can’t help the slight smile at just how deeply connected she and the quarian are and how it makes it seem like they can almost read the other’s mind instead of things being mere coincidence. “How do they get out?”

“It’s been a long time since that’s happened,” Liara says as she follows Tali’s gaze to the water below with her own azure eyes. “And if someone happens to have too much to drink and foolishly falls in, the Citadel Guard has reed ladders to extend to them.”

“Because there’s no way someone’s climbing out of there without some kind of help.” Jameson stops a moment to lift up onto his toes to get a good look over the edge of the bridge and down to the bottom of the moat.

Whoever had dug and designed the moats laid mosaics along the walls and loose stones at its bottom. With the way the light reflects off the tiles of various shades of blue and aqua, it seems like the moat is shallow, but Jana knows it’s all an illusion, a deception perhaps meant to trick enemies into dropping in so that they become trapped or, in the worst cases, sink to the bottom should they be wearing heavy armors and weapons.

Jon nods as he steps up to a large door on the outer wall of the Presidium and holds a hand up to stop the Citadel Guard ready to leave their posts at the door to seemingly open it for them. Turning to the group, Jon chuckles and says, “Yeah, there was a lot of cleaning up to do after Sovereign and his geth attacked. The Guard forced the attacking geth towards the moats to quell their numbers.” He nods and waves Jameson to help him pull open the door. “But,” he says with a grunt when the doors initially resist before starting to move, “they managed to have it back to the way it was by the time I came back.” When the doors are open enough for them to pass - but obviously not needlessly opened to their entirety - Jon looks to them and shrugs in what feels like disappointment. “It’s as if nothing happened.”

“That’s their problem.” Jameson scoffs and takes the lead for them, using his bulky form to make way for them even if it seems humans are among some of the shorter species in this universe judging by the ones Jana’s seen.

Jon tilts his head in reluctant agreement but waves a hand for Jana, Tali, and Liara to walk ahead of him. Taking a last glance at the waters of the moat, Tali joins Liara in exiting the Presidium but Jana takes one more long look at the sight of tall spires and buildings around the broad avenue and its Gardens settled at and around the base of the massive Tower. Her gaze then moves back, taking a deep look into the deceivingly pleasant moat and up to the guarding wall surrounding the whole of the Presidium, the whole of the Citadel .

Above the doors is a large engraving of letters much like the ones she and Tali were discussing and pondering over knowing earlier in the morning. She doesn’t need to think on them to know they say Kithoi, as in the Kithoi Ward - or District, if Zakera is any indication of the pattern - and she frowns slightly in confusion of the still concerning concept of suddenly knowing something that should at least take a few months to learn.

“Jon,” she says, laying a hand on his elbow to draw his attention upwards at the lettering. “What’s that language?”

“Oh, that’s Hermia .” Jon smiles at her as if that’s answer enough, but his smile quickly flattens out when her brows furrow in continued confusion. “It’s the asari language …. It’s also Common Tongue for everyone.” He motions to walk with him as they follow the others, tucking his hands in his officer jacket’s pockets. “See …. I’m sure you guys all spoke different languages too?” He hums when she nods and mimics her nod. “Asari were the first to find the Citadel - ‘vitad , the Citadel was in Thessia, so it isn’t all that surprising.” He takes his hands from his pockets and motions above their heads at the buildings all around them. “Just found it like this already …. Well, the stonework anyway. To hear the stories, there was quite a bit of work to turn it back into what it must have been for the Protheans.

“So,” he says, tucking his hands away and looking around at the various species in the street, bustling about or lingering at merchants’ carts and what must be storefronts. “The asari made Hermia the Common Tongue because they were the first ones here, the first ones to a place where a unified government would soon flourish. It wasn’t long before they and the salarians discovered one another …. And the salarians just didn’t seem to mind learning Hermia , so everyone after had to learn it if they wanted to be a part of the Imperial Provinces.”

“So I assume that’s what everyone’s speaking?” When Jon gives her a dumbfounded look, she chuckles nervously. “It worked kinda the same for us, but we had a type of tech that automatically translated things for us, so even if we didn’t want to learn Standard or speak it at the moment, we could understand each other.”

“That’s quite the ‘tech’ …. Sounds almost magical,” Jon says before humming and scratching his chin. “So you’re saying the dialect and script are different here than there too?”

Jana nods. “We hadn’t noticed it at first because, somehow, we know how to read it, but I don’t know how or why the obelisk changed that in us.” She huffs and looks around at the bustling people and market stands selling all manner of things from raw meats to precious looking jewels. “I’m not complaining, though. God only knows where we’d be if we didn’t know at least one language people spoke here in your world.”

“I wonder if you know how to speak Ord ,” he says with a glance up at the sky. “Or if Tali can speak Khelish .”

“Well, she does, thankfully.” Jana smiles when he looks back down to her. “ Khelish is the language used by quarians where we come from. I suspect there might be some differences, but hopefully, it’ll basically be the same when it boils down to it.” She chuckles and shrugs. “I don’t know why, but knowing that she might have a foot up on this language thing feels good. We’ve been so thrown since coming here that you gotta take every little thing, you know?”

Jon smiles and chuckles. “Well, hopefully, we can find some better things to make you both more comfortable. It may take some time, but I want you to feel like you belong …. I know that I’m grateful for having any helpful hand I can find.”

“Yeah, well …. We haven’t seen how bad we are at your weapons,” she jokes and he waves her words away.

“Nonsense. We’ll figure something out. Even if it means you’ll help out at camp instead of going into battle.”

“Hopefully, I can prove more useful though,” she says as he lays a hand on her shoulder before stepping up between and in front of Liara, Tali, and Jameson to wave down a passing single-horse wagon.

“Hail! Good sir!” Jon calls out to the human man holding the reins of the brown, shaggy horse. When the wagon stops, Jon comes up to the man’s side and gently pets the horse’s rear, as if in praise. “I offer gold for a ride in your carriage to the Zakera District for myself and my friends,” Jon says, motioning behind him to their small group. “We don’t need anything but a ride.”

Jana glances at the wooden ‘carriage,’ very surprised at the stark contrast to what she had envisioned thanks to various vids. Instead of a round, enclosed carriage of fairy tales, their hopeful ride seems more a wagon like she initially thought with its open top, wooden benches against the sides, and short walls that’d provide little support for their backs during the ride. She’d be much more inclined to see the thing hauling barrels and goods than their small group and the slight discolorations of the wooden bottom tells her enough to think that’s exactly what this man uses it for.

The man tips back his long, loose brimmed hat and looks the group over before returning his gaze back down to Jon. “A hundred gold and you get off at the docks. I’ll go no further.”

Jon grins and nods. “That’s all we need.” Fetching a pouch from his belt, he pulls open the drawstring and fetches a single golden coin roughly one and a half inches in diameter. Handing it over, he smiles and waits for the man to rub the coin on his shirt sleeve as if to buff it clean, both nodding when the inspection passes.

Clapping his hands together softly, Jon turns to the others and motions a hand towards the wagon in an ‘after you’ fashion. “Shall we ride?”

Jameson shrugs and climbs on as Jon comes to the side to offer a hand to the women of the group, which considering Liara’s skirt, is probably a good idea. Liara hesitates a moment, chewing her lip as she stares at the stained, rough wood. Considering she’s barefooted save for a type of slip looping beneath the arch of her foot only, Jana can only imagine all the splinters Liara’s considering.

“It smells of fish,” Liara whispers to Jon and he offers an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry, Liara, but trust me, there’s a reason I came to him instead of a noble’s carriage.”

Liara glances at him before giving the wooden wagon one more, good look. She seems to sigh slightly as she hikes up her skirt with one hand and takes Jon’s offered one in her other, stepping up onto the small jut of wood made into a step for better ease without having to use their hands to pull themselves up. Liara joins Jameson on the bench to the left, her face flat in an obvious sense of discomfort and disapproval of their ride.

Jana lets Tali go next, watching how Jon clasps her hand with a warm smile and softly says something inviting. Jana can’t see her friend’s face, but her posture says enough that Tali appreciated the words - maybe even liked the tender care of being treated like she can’t take a step by herself. She almost feels as if Tali’s rewarded Jon with some sort of genuine expression, perhaps a smile in gratitude though it’s hard to imagine Tali accepting help for some simple task simply because she’s a woman without threatening that ‘she has a shotgun.’

A silent conversation seems to happen between Jon and Jana - one concerning her slight nervousness at being treated in what she felt was a manner giving her much less credit an N-7 deserved. It was a wagon, for Christ’s sake, and something about an offered hand seemed off, so she’s grateful when he shifts his stance to offer his elbow as a grip for a boost up. She uses it, grateful for the aid, and turns to offer him a hand up in return.

Settling themselves on the benches, Jana and Tali across from Jon, Liara, and Jameson, Jana looks out at the citizens on the street as the carriage begins to move. The sound of clanking from the horse's feet on the stones and creak of wood from the wheels seem to block out the droning of people at the markets, but it’s thankfully less bumpy than riding directly on the horse’s back.

“Alright, I have to ask,” Tali says, drawing everyone’s attention as she speaks to Jon. “Does every species use horses?”

Jon huffs in amusem*nt in that way that he does when a situation calls for him explaining something of his world to them that seems so commonplace. It’s always a sound full of enjoyment and pride, his obvious love for his world evident in such a slight sound.

“Oh, of course not. Almost every Province has its own chosen steed,” he says, glancing at Liara and chuckling. “Maybe ‘mount’ is more appropriate a word then.” Sitting in a way to relax on the wooden bench, he stretches out a leg. “Horses are more versatile for pulling carts full of crates and barrels of … pretty much everything. They’re a perfect size for the Citadel streets for the amount they can haul. Yeou are roughly the same size, but by comparison, a single horse can pull a heavier cart than a yeou.” Before Jana or Tali could ask what a ‘yeou’ even was, Liara speaks.

“Yeou have always been more adept at carrying a rider or two than pulling a carriage,” she says, seemingly more accustomed to this creature than Jon is. “They’re very elegant creatures and even asari are more likely to ride a horse than a yeou. Yeous are more of a spiritual guide for our priestesses and my people.” She quirks her lips and looks up in thought. “I suppose you might see a dignitary or two riding one in the Presidium if they were feeling particularly opulent and wanted to show off.”

“Have you ever ridden one?” Tali asks, shifting in her seat into a more alert, inquisitive straight-backed posture. “A yeou?”

“Oh, Goddess , no.” Liara seems stunned by the mere thought as she lays a hand on her chest. “I’ve been able to see one, feel the softness of its fur, but never ridden one.” She blushes slightly and shakes her head a bit as if at the thought. “I’m a simple scholar among my people. I only ever saw one in person because my mother was a Matriarch. Matriarchs are more likely to ride a yeou if involved in a grand ceremony. My mother was an important figure in Lucen, but I believe she had only ever ridden a yeou once or twice.”

Unsure that a yeou could even be considered a mount given the number of spiritual customs and restrictions in riding one the asari seem to have, Jana is curious to know what she should even be seeing with her mind’s eye and asks, “What is a yeou? We obviously don’t have something like that where we come from …. And if our universe’s asari do , it wasn’t ever a topic that came up.”

“Oh,” Liara says, blinking in surprise a moment before understanding crosses her expression. “Of course …. I sometimes forget that you’re not actually from our realm. You just seem to have settled in so well.”

“That they have,” Jon agrees with a smile. “I sure hope looks aren’t deceiving in that aspect?”

Chuckling nervously, Jana looks around to see the carriage turning off of a paved road and into streets made more of sparse stones and dirt obviously packed down by countless feet passing by. “It’s still a bit of a shock, but … I think it’s getting easier now that we’ve finally seen some kind of city. A ship in water isn’t something I’ve ever been on, but a city is more familiar, no matter how different.”

She sees how Jon sits forward to look directly at Tali, a concerned furrow to his brow. “I hope it’s the same for you …. We still haven’t talked about your ‘suit,’ but I hope there aren’t even more difficulties for you here.”

Tali tucks her hands between her legs and tilts her head and Jana can almost imagine her chewing it over. “Of course not,” she says and Jana lifts a brow at how much Tali sounds like her younger self back when she was just happy to be along for the ride hunting Saren instead of going on missions out of obligation. “It takes some getting used to and ….” She makes a hum in her throat, mulling over her words, and Jana has a feeling she knows what Tali’s trying to think of how to say without it sounding like an insult.

“Our realm is very … sterile,” Tali tries, glancing at Jana and Jana nods to keep going. “And here is much more ….”

Taking the possible negative reaction for her friend, Jana says, “Dirty.”

When the others just look at her in confusion rather than anger, she rubs her hands together to try and explain. “We don’t have buildings made of stone, but metal and polymer blends. Everything is clean to prevent cross-species contamination and complications ….” She huffs and motions around her at the street that seems almost set apart from the pristine Presidium and decently well-kept and bright streets directly pass the door dividing it from this district. “And this place just seems to lack that. I mean, we’re riding in a dirty wagon that smells faintly of fish on dirt roads.”

Instead of seeming to be angry, Jon chuckles and sits back to give their surroundings a good look. While not necessarily looking like the streets of Omega, it’s quite clear that citizens have done less to look like a kind of … crowd attracting spot and have gone with a more lived-in state. This is obviously off the beaten path for many, the few glances of merchants seemingly unbothered with trying to outsell each other with their shiny baubles and more just make a decent living with selling to cater to the most basic of needs.

“Yeah, I can see how you’d think that.” Jon hums and crosses his arms. “And I can tell at least Jameson and Liara are wondering why I didn’t call on a noble’s carriage. Noble carriages take the routes through the paved streets, showing the beautiful side of the District, so to speak, but this kind of carriage?” He pats the wood of the short wall at his back. “No doubt our coachman knows the faster routes to the docks.”

“Got that right,” the man says gruffly, barely glancing over his shoulder. “Best routes are the ones the high and mighties don’t even want to think exist, let alone ride on.”

Jon holds out a hand in ‘there you go’ as explanation enough and Jana nods, agreeing in some ways on taking the back route. The smell, however, she could do without, but beggars can’t be choosers and, in this world, that saying seems to carry a lot more weight behind it.

It makes her wonder just how far Jon’s ‘Templar’ status is going to get them in terms of ease in getting what they need and where they need to go. She has a feeling the title is very similar - if not the same - as her Spectre status, but money seems to come about less quickly than a simple data transfer from one person to the next. This place involves actual, physical coin and she wonders just how Jon acquires what he needs, who gives it to him, and just how much they’ll be able to buy with it.

Although, if they’re traveling with a prince , then perhaps things will come to them a hell of a lot easier so long as Garrus takes the lead in those matters.

Not surprising considering her own Liara’s thrill of explaining all manner of things about her people, Jon’s Liara smiles and sits closer to the edge of her seat. “Do you still want to know what a yeou looks like?”

Jana chuckles at the enthusiasm for something she’s forgotten about just as quickly as it came up, but it’s obvious that it’s important to Liara, so she nods. Tali nods as well, answering for them with a ‘yes, very much so.’

I wonder if the description will translate for either of us?

“They’re a kind of Vulpia,” Liara says with a proud smile that falters when neither Jana nor Tali seem to immediately understand. “Do you know what a fox is?”

Tali’s frown of confusion is obvious in her posture and Jana shifts to explain about it to her friend, though she doesn’t know all that much about an animal she’s never seen but except for vids. “Remember when we all showed the non-human species ‘dogs’ back home?” When Tali nods, Jana smiles and nods back. “They’re sorta like that, but much more sleek and aren’t domesticated. They’re red with a white belly, right?” she asks, glancing to Liara.

Liara nods and clasps her hands together just as the carriage passes beneath the large archway of the open doors leading out of the Citadel and onto the large bridge of the docks. “Yeou aren’t exactly foxes, but they are a more spiritual form of them. They are much larger - obviously - though slightly smaller than an average horse. But they come in many different colors.” She smiles. “The one I saw as a young girl was the color of fresh cream and had the deepest amber eyes I’ve ever seen.”

“But they can’t pull a carriage,” Jameson says and Liara’s eyes widen.

“Why would you ever do that? Goddess ….”

She looks like she’s about to faint when Jon chuckles and lays a hand on her shoulder, tugging her to his side to give her a slight hug. “You know he’s only trying to get you worked up.” Letting her relax back in her seat, Jon gives Jameson a mock glare to scold him. “Don’t make me put you on hostler duty when we get on the road.”

“ Maker , mercy,” Jameson says with a cringe. “I’d rather haul the carriages myself than tend to the horses after a long day.” He grins and pats Liara on the back. “Maybe one day you’ll show me one of these yeou and I’ll be eating my words. They actually sound like quite the thing to see.”

Liara smiles and nods slightly. “I’d like that.”

Jana smiles at the two and her gaze moves to Tali looking between Jon and Liara. Something feels timid about the way Tali fidgets, but Jana can’t put her finger on it and isn’t going to ask while in other people’s company. She has a feeling Tali has a bit of a crush on Jon with the way she gets flustered when he’s around or talking about him. It’s slight, but Jana knows her friend like the back of her hand and she has to admit that if Tali were to find anyone attractive, Jana’s happy it’s Jon.

He seems like a pretty decent guy.

Although there’s still that something in the way he always wears that braided purple rope like an anchor, like the way Jana clings to her ring.

“Oh, hey,” Jameson says, getting to his feet and patting the coachman on the shoulder. “Stop here ….” Looking to Jana, he grins. “Didn’t forget about your armor, did you?”

Jana initially furrows her brows in confusion but follows Jameson’s gaze when he jerks his chin towards the buildings behind her. Shifting in her seat, she looks over the merchant shops until she sees the sign of the blacksmith, Girr, a short walk away.

She chuckles and shakes her head. “After paying seven hundred gold for it? Hell no,” she says, standing up and glancing to Tali. “You want to head up to the Normandy and pack our things?”

Tali nods and moves her legs to let Jameson squeeze between her and the others to climb off the wagon. Just as Jameson jumps down with a heavy thump on the wooden docks, he motions with his hand towards the blacksmith’s shop.

“Don’t worry. Girr and Sephone make the best armor around.” He leans closer to her as he grabs the door’s heavy iron handle, mock whispering. “Just don’t let him know I said that or he’d be even more of an oppfostre .” Plastering a huge grin on his face at her amused snort, he hauls open the large wooden door and calls out before even stepping foot in the shop. “Girr!” he shouts, drawing out the long ‘R’ of the krogan’s name. “How about that set of armor?”

An asari, tall like so many others, comes to the call as she rubs her hands off on the stained apron wrapped around her hips. A large scar cuts down the left side of her face, down over both lips and more square shaped chin, finally curling at the hollow of her throat. She seems more masculine than other asari, wearing a leather wrap around her almost nonexistent breasts, the only thing portraying any kind of ‘asari beauty standards’ the delicate purple slashes across her indigo cheeks.

She’s a working woman, maybe even a blacksmith as well, and it shows. Watching the woman’s arms flex as she leans on the counter, Jana can certainly appreciate the amount of hard work the woman is obviously capable of.

“What do you want, yua ?” The asari says with a rough chuckle as she looks the two humans over before looking back to Jameson, jerking her chin towards him. “You still carrying around that pile of hair, Jameson?”

“Hey,” Jameson says with a sharp tone of mock insult as he physically jerks his body. “ This is a piece of art,” he says with a soft caress to his fur cloak. When the asari snorts and leans back to cross her arms, he drops his hands and looks around behind her into the back of the shop. “So, uh … Girr was supposed to have a set of armor ready for us.”

“Yeah, I know,” the asari says, glancing up at Jana and motioning for her to approach. “So you’re the one gonna wear it?” She hums when Jana nods with a soft ‘yes, ma’am’ and waves her hand dismissively. “No ‘ma’ams’ here.” Dropping her arms, she heads back for the hidden room - or rooms - of the shop. “I got your things here.”

The asari returns with a stack of what looks like thick clothing and armor. She sets it on the counter and starts to take the stack apart to reveal its individual pieces.

“Here we got your pauldrons,” she says, setting aside a pair of obvious shoulder guards judging by the round shape of the layers of silver-colored metal and strap that’s most likely meant to wrap around her upper arm. “Here’s your gambeson, even more padded than our usual.” Her gaze flicks to Jana. “Girr said there’s somethin’ about you made him think you’d need it. Here’s your kidney belt,” she continues with a motion to a thick leather belt, continuing her examination of Jana’s new armor. “You got a belt for your scabbard here too. Don’t know if you’ll be heading into Terra, but here’s some fur for your collar just in case.” She gives Jameson a pointed look, adding, “But you didn’t get as … extravagant a collar as our friend here.”

Jameson chuckles and glances to Jana, pride in his grin. “I hunted this bear down by myself, killed it with my bare hands …. Of course, I’m going to wear it everywhere I go. People gotta know what these,” he says, flexing his arms, “can do.”

“Yes, well …. That’s certainly a story,” the asari drones, obviously unimpressed - or either used to the very unbelievable story - as she pulls out a long, dark blue tunic and matching arm wraps. “One’s for under your gambeson - obviously - and the others will help protect your arms. They may look weak, but they’re thickly bound, so they’ll take a good hit so long as you’re not dealing with a hammer or anything.”

Jana chuckles nervously, unsure of what she’s getting herself into. “Uh, no …. That’s not in the plans ….”

“Don’t worry,” Jameson says with a nod. “We won’t let you get in that kind of situation. We stand together.”

The asari sighs and stacks the gear back up. “We have boots for you too. They have some leather guards four your shins if you want them. Don’t know if they’re your size because the lumbering idiot didn’t measure your feet.”

Jana nods in understanding and chews her lip. “Yeah …. If they’re included in the seven hundred, then I’ll take them.”

Jameson pats her on the shoulder as he approaches the counter. He waits for the asari to stack the tall, dark brown boots on the top of the pile before passing the stack off to Jana and returning to the asari blacksmith.

“You already had your four-fifty, so here’s the rest,” he says with a firm nod and sets a small, jingling pouch on the counter.

The asari immediately snatches it up, dumping the coins out over the counter and laying them flat. Among the pieces are one gold coin with a large sun on its surface like the one Jon previously used and three silver coins about the same size - probably all the same despite one having a deer on its surface and a moon on the other two, both sides of the same coin. She hums and examines the coins in the lantern on her counter’s light before slipping the coins back into the pouch.

“Alright. Everything’s paid out,” she says as she tucks the pouch into a pocket of her apron. “You know to come back when you need more armor.” She crosses her arms and gives Jameson a glare. “Not too happy about the rushes, though, so try not to make it a habit.”

Jameson grins, laying a hand on Jana’s shoulder while he motions to leave with the other so he can follow. “No promises!”

Chapter 8: The Imperial University

Chapter Text

Chapter 8: The Imperial University

When Jana and Jameson arrive back at the Normandy, it seems Jon has already had the crew hard at work getting prepared for their trip to Palaven. She remembers something about an ‘Imperial Gate’ at some University, but she doesn’t know the importance this particular gate has as opposed to any of the other gates in the Citadel. Obviously, whatever it is, it leads out of the Citadel because, so far, it seems like the crew has already brought out plenty of supplies in barrels and crates for a long trip.

She has no idea how the mere four horses they have are going to be able to haul the number of supplies Jon has planned for their trip, but she doubts she’s in much position to question the preparation when she has little idea beyond the fact that they’re going to use some gate to get to Palaven so they can avoid traveling by sea, which is apparently under Reaper control.

Following a group of crewmembers carrying packs from the ship to their small stack of gear for the trip, Jon is in his full armor once more. The golden eagle on his chest plate glistens in the sunlight as he turns to look over the dock, his eyes catching Jana and Jameson trying to get to the Normandy without getting in the various ships’ crews way as they load and unload their vessels.

“Jameson! Jana!” Jon lifts a hand to them and sets his helmet down on a crate that a pair of crewmembers are carrying past. “I was hoping you’d arrive soon,” he says as he joins them at the dock, just beyond the Normandy’s gangplanks. “I think it’d be best if you two get into your armors before we head out for the Imperial University. I have no idea what lies beyond the Gate in Palven, but there could be any possibility that the Corruption’s reach has already extended to Taetrus.”

“Wait,” Jana says, face contorting in confusion. “Palaven is just beyond some Gate here in the Citadel? I thought the Citadel was in Thessia? Is it on the border of the two or something?”

“You’ve never heard of a Rift Gate before, Ylva?” Jameson asks with a pat on her back and a grin. “How’d you get around in your realm?”

“In ways you’d probably think I’m making up,” she retorts plainly and he definitely looks like he’s trying to imagine something, but Jon interrupts any follow-up questions with a smile and a pat on the clothing and armor in her hands.

“You got your armor …. Good,” he says before jerking his head back towards the Normandy. “I think Tali’s almost done packing what she’d like to take from your cabin, but I’d like you to go up there and get into your gear. Jameson?” He looks to the other man before raising a brow and glancing at Jana’s things. “I think Jana needs a helmet, don’t you? Be sure to grab her one when you’re done getting your armor on.”

Jameson nods in understanding and gives her a wordless, apologetic smile for missing that piece of armor for her set before moving towards the Normandy’s gangplanks and leaving just her and Jon.

“I don’t know how much help I’m going to be out there, to be honest,” Jana says as she walks beside Jon up a gangplank. “I mean, I don’t even have a weapon or even know how to use your weapons. Okay, let me rephrase,” she says with a snort and roll of her head, “I can probably bludgeon something to death. You have weapons like that, right? Just clubs to bash something with? I can probably do that …. Who can’t?”

Jon chuckles softly and shakes his head, stopping in the middle of the gangplank and waving a hand towards the Normandy’s cargo hold. “Go ahead and get ready. We have plenty of weapons around the ship that I’m sure we can find something that suits you while we’re on the road to Cipritine.” He hums and sighs. “To speak truth, I don’t think it’s going to be a smooth ride getting there, so you just might find yourself in quite the situation to have plenty of practice.” Smiling, he lays a hand on her shoulder to still her nerves at the idea of being in the middle of battle feeling practically naked without the knowledge of how to properly use a weapon without hurting herself. “Don’t worry, Jana. We’re all with you. We fight as a team - as one - and we won’t leave you to fend for yourself. We’ll do our best to watch your back,” he says, but holds up a finger with a firm nod, “but we won’t coddle you. You know at least something about battle that you’ll know when to back down and let someone else take them on … and when you don’t need any help at all.”

Jana huffs and gives a weak smile. “Yeah, I appreciate the confidence. I’ve slashed with an omni-tool and ungracefully bashed things with my rifle before, so maybe you might be right. I definitely know you won’t need to worry about me getting too co*cky or anything.” Blowing a breath out the corner of her mouth to jostle a red curl that’s fallen loose from her braid, Jana adds, “The idea of being on a completely different kind of battlefield does a good job making you humble.”

Chuckling, Jon pats her back and turns away to continue commanding his men in preparation for the trip. Jana gives his back one last good look before sighing and heading into the Normandy. Jameson trots over to her as she makes her way to the stairs leading to the higher decks and offers a closed helmet with an opening on the front across the eyes and down the center like Jon’s helmet.

“Here you go, Ylva,” he says with a smile and she holds up a hand to stop him from heading before her up the stairs.

“What’s ‘Ylva?’”

“Ylva? Like … Ylva ….” He frowns when her expression doesn’t show any sign of understanding. “It’s a name …. You remind me of a Ylva.”

He tries to walk up the steps, but she shifts her gear enough to free a hand to grab his elbow. She remembers Vega trying to call her ‘Lola’ back home and it felt very unprofessional - and, granted, she wasn’t in the right mind for nicknames at the time - but she at least knew the name, but ‘Ylva’ has no meaning, no connotation, and no clue of what he could possibly be associating with her by saying she ‘reminds him of a Ylva.’

“What’s Ylva mean,” she says as she lets him go. “It’s obviously not a common name where I’m from.”

“Oh ….” Jameson stops on the step and turns to her. “‘Ylva’ means ‘she-wolf.’” He shrugs and smiles. “You seem like a she-wolf to me. I don’t mean anything by it and if you want, I can stop-”

“No, it’s okay,” she interrupts, smiling. In truth, being called a ‘she-wolf’ is not too bad of a nickname. Much better than being associated with a ‘hot sister’ of an old friend. She chuckles and waves her hand to let him know he can move without her stopping him again, following behind him instead. “You’re going to have to tell me what nicknames you gave to other people one day. I’m curious ….”

He chuckles and nods, just the top of his head visible over the large swell of the fur cloak across his shoulders. “Yeah, no problem,” he says as they arrive on the crew deck and he heads for one of the shared bunkrooms. “Let me know if you need help with any of your gear.”

“Sure … though I think Tali and I can manage at least most of it,” she jokes, hoping she’s right because she really doesn’t want to slow the group down by needing someone to come in and help her get dressed. “It shouldn’t be too different from our own armor.”

He shrugs again. “You’ll have to tell me if that’s true or not,” he says with a chuckle and she nods, waving at him as she continues onward towards her shared cabin.

Entering the cabin, Jana finds Tali has already packed most of their things into packs they’ll most likely strap to a horses’ back much like Jana’s already seen done to the horses down on the docks. Surprisingly, Tali’s leaving their tech piled up on her own bed and Jana lifts her brows in curiosity.

“Not taking your project to work on?”

Tali stops packing Jana’s own clothing into a large, unfurled pack to turn to the voice, her hands wringing as she glances towards their tech on the bed. “Well, I’m not sure …. I don’t know if we’ll have the time or the space to take it.” She sighs and lowers her head, rubbing a hand over her arm. “And I don’t know if I’ll ever get any of it working.”

Humming as she looks between her friend and their discarded tech, Jana moves to set her new armor on her bed and pull her smaller pack off her shoulder. She upturns the bag and dumps the clothing and items in it onto the pile of her other things before offering the empty pack to Tali.

“Pack what you think might be useful for now,” she says, motioning to the bed before working at untying and loosening the leather ties at the sides of her tunic. “You can work on it and, if anything, it’ll be a good way to pass the time when we have some downtime.”

“How long do you think it’s going to take us to get to Cipritine?”

“I’m not sure,” Jana answers, pulling off her tunic and laying in on her other clothes before working at her shoes, leaving on her pants to use beneath her longer tunic beneath the double padded one. “But I don’t think it’ll be a short trip like it’d be for us back home. Jon seems to be planning for a long ride, so I take it we’ll have some nights at least where the horses will need to take a break and we’ll be making camp.”

“Makes sense,” Tali says to the sound of shuffling as she sorts through their pieces of equipment and tucks it into the smaller pack. “I don’t know whether to be happy or sad that we’re leaving the Normandy. I’ve gotten quite used to the ship, even if it’s so isolating actually sailing in an empty ocean.”

Jana hums in agreement as she drops her clothing onto the pile and grabs the corners of the leather beneath all her things and pulls them up and in before rolling the entire stack into a thick roll. The outer wrap has straps to keep it all tight and she double checks the room to make sure everything is packed before knotting the straps around her small collection of personal items. Her rolled-up pack looks much thicker than Tali’s, but she can’t imagine Tali is too worried about what she brings outside of her suit and its special equipment.

Maybe we can earn some money to get something a little special just for us. Something that is less for survival and fitting in and more just to have a useless trinket that actually feels like ours.

Feeling Tali’s expectant eyes on her half-naked form, Jana clears her throat and starts to work on tugging on the long, dark blue tunic that’ll act as the lower layer to her armor set. She sets to work fastening the red gambeson on over it, not wanting to slow down the overall group much longer because she is taking her time daydreaming and not getting ready.

Though she doubts Palaven will have weather suited for fur collars, Jana wraps it around her shoulders just in case - and to keep from it getting lost in the fray of everything - before following it up with the thick waist belt. She then slips on the blue arm wraps and tightens the strap holding them together before she tucks them beneath the short sleeves of her gambeson before looking to Tali, picking up a pauldron with each hand.

“Can you help me fasten these?” she asks, lifting up her shoulders and holding her elbows away from her body in illustration. “I don’t know if I can get them fastened under my arms by myself.”

Tali sets the now stuffed pack on her bunk before nodding. “Of course,” she says happily enough, apparently more than willing to help Jana get suited up.

Jana has a feeling she knows why Tali seems almost grateful to be helping. Putting on armor was such an intimate thing between Jana and Garrus as they helped each other with the pieces that would normally prove quite time consuming or just plain impossible to do alone. Even though Jana can’t repay the favor to Tali at the moment, she feels a little less alone, a little less distanced from the world with just the simple act of her best friend being so willing to try and share that kind of tenderness even after all the times Jana fully believes she let her friend down by her failures in the Reaper war they left behind.

Pauldrons set and secured, Tali helps Jana loop the empty sword belt around her hips. With the tall, leather boots as the last pieces of her armor to be put on, Jana finishes just as a knock echoes off their door.

“You ready, Ylva?” Jameson’s voice asks through the wood and Tali gives Jana a confused look.

Mouthing ‘I’ll explain later’ to Tali, Jana grabs her packed things and goes to the door. Opening it, she’s met with the sight of Jameson in his own full set of metal armor. It’s something she hadn’t really taken notice of the first day they were thrown into this world and, seeing it now, it’s quite impressive and suiting for him at the same time.

His helmet is open-faced but was made to look like the head of a bear, its metal teeth settled at the crown of Jameson’s head. He still wears his trademark fur cloak, but his pauldrons look like the heads of some other kind of animal and his chest plate is made of layered, carved pieces that overlap the smaller set down his abdomen. His gauntlets have some kind of carvings along their tops, but she can’t really determine if the pattern creates an image. He wears thick leather pants beneath a set of pieces of metal and fur that she isn’t quite sure the name of, one on each hip and one laying as to protect his groin, but not enclose it. To finish up his overall look, he wears boots of metal and fur.

His armor is truly impressive - and definitely looks heavy and cumbersome in hindsight - but he wears it well and, in a way, Jana has to admit that it really suits Jameson.

“Damn,” she says, eyebrows raised. “You look like …. Well, you look ready to go to war,” she jokes with a light chuckle at the obvious.

Grinning, Jameson looks himself over as if he’s taking his whole getup in. “Yeah, well, they don’t call me ‘The Bear’ for nothing.”

“Keelah, that looks hot.” Tali steps beside Jana, her rolled-up pack in hand and satchel full of tech thrown over her shoulder.

“Yeah, well … I’ve mostly been in human territories, so I’ll probably have to modify the design a bit,” he says with a shrug before chuckling. “But no amount of heat is going to get me to ditch the cloak.”

Chuckling, Jana waves him to move so they can get going. “As if there was any question on that. We all know we’d see the Reapers sooner stop the war than you take that thing off.”

Jameson laughs as he walks the deck, his heavy boots loud on the wood and his armor clinking as his body moves. Jana’s happy that her own armor doesn’t make as much noise, only her pauldrons being made of metal and only making noise if she purposely makes them shift about.

When the three make it down to the cargo deck, Jana can see that Liara and Jon are already preparing their horses for the ride. Jana can’t say she’s exactly thrilled to find out they’ll be riding on a horse’s back for this trip, but she also isn’t surprised. She doesn’t expect Jon to put forth the coin to get a comfort carriage just because she has a hard time riding on the back of a horse and there isn’t really any other way than to walk on her own, but the truth in the situation still does little to make her feel much better about sharing Liara’s horse again because she isn’t a big fan of not having some kind of handle or grip to keep from falling off besides grabbing onto a part of Liara’s saddle or awkwardly holding Liara herself.

“Ah, there you are,” Jon says with a smile as he sees them approach. His smile widens as he takes Jana in and gives an approving nod. “It suits you, I’d say. The red really brings out the fire in your hair.” Chuckling, he shrugs. “I don’t know if your people put much to the color of people’s hair, but red-haired people are said to be fueled by fire. I don’t know what it is, but I have a feeling that’s going to be right about you once we get you on a battlefield.”

“I know it,” Jameson says with a grin down to her before heading towards his own horse to throw his pack over its rear. “‘S why I say she’s a Ylva.”

Jon chuckles again and gives a slight, amused shake of his head before looking to Jana and Tali. “I hope you don’t mind him giving you a nickname.”

“No, it’s alright.” Jana shakes her head, adding, “We actually already spoke about it. I told him I’ll be curious to hear the others.”

Jon smiles and nods as he turns to the horses and waves for herself and Tali to follow him. “I sent a man to the Imperial Stables to buy us more horses and a wagon, but as you can see, they’re being held up. We can head to the University without them,” he says as he motions the fours horses they do have. “The five of us can meet Garrus and his guard there. We’ll take the Gate to Taetrus and wait there for the crew. With luck, we won’t be held up long, but it’d be nice to stop in Taetrus and alert the Prorex of our intentions if Garrus hasn’t already sent word.”

“So I guess we’re sharing horses again?” Jana asks as she lets Liara take her pack and throw it over her horse’s golden rear. “With the packs too? Is there room?”

Jon smiles and runs his hand down his own white horse’s long forehead. “We were hoping you and Tali could ride Ashlin’s horse while we take care of your packs,” he says as he leaves his horse’s side to lead them to a dark gray horse, its fur almost like a darkened blue-gray up close. “We can tie her horse to one of ours and lead her for you, but she should follow us without a huge problem this short distance anyway. Then, if Tali likes, she can ride one of the new horses we’ll have join us later from the stables.”

Tali makes a sound that shows her complete lack of excitement at the idea and wrings her hands a bit. “I don’t know if I want to be on one of those things alone.” She looks to Jon and tilts her head apologetically. “I’m sorry, but I don’t really trust riding on one alone.”

Jon smiles and holds up a hand. “Don’t worry, Tali. From the sounds of it, horses are a very rare thing even for even humans where you’re from. I can’t imagine what it must be like for a quarian to see such an odd animal.” Humming, he cups his chin and rubs his thumb along his jaw. “Let’s see …. Maybe you can ride with me again? Was that comfortable for you? We can have my things put on another horse.”

Tali is quiet and gives Jana a shy glance, thoughts seemingly running wild in her bright eyes. After a long moment of Jana trying to project some confidence in her friend, Tali seems to come to her conclusion and nods as she turns back to Jon. “If it’s alright, I’d like to ride on your horse once we have enough to move your pack. I just …. It feels safer there,” she says, almost too quiet for anyone to catch and Jana has to hide her knowing smile at her friend’s growing affection for the man.

Jon’s smile is warm, but a slight flicker of sadness fills his eyes for just a split second before he gives her a slow nod. “Of course. You can ride with me for as long as you’d like.”

Tali looks to Jana, concern about overstepping some boundary clear in her eyes and posture, but Jana smirks and raises a brow in intrigue, quickly washing away Tali’s worry. Instead, Tali seems to pout at attention being called towards her growing attraction and when she jerks her gaze away with a slight lift of her chin, Jana has to keep from laughing. She covers her mouth to hide her soft snort, acting like she’s rubbing her chin in thought over the horses situation.

“Alright, so Tali will ride with me,” she says as she looks between the members of the group gathered around to hear of Jon’s plans. “When we get more horses, she can decide who she wants to ride with or,” she adds with a joking tone to her voice, “if she wants to ride alone. I’m sure we’ll have enough.”

“Keelah, no.” Tali shakes her head, apparently adamant in not trying to stay atop a bouncing horse by herself, and Jon laughs as Jana chuckles at her friend. She’s pretty sure Tali would be glaring holes in her at bringing up an idea not to ride with Jon if he wasn’t right next to them to catch the look.

“Alright, so we have a plan.” Jon claps his hands together and motions the gray horse whose fur is actually pretty in the slight varying tones seemingly in each strand of its fur. “Here, I’ll help you up,” he says as he moves to stand beside the horse. “Jana, you’re up first on the stirrup.”

Jana nods and goes to the horse’s side, standing in front of Jon as she slips her outer foot into the stirrup and takes a hold of the saddle with both hands. She takes a second to adjust to the awkward position before bouncing a few tries and finally jumping into the stirrup to pull herself up, positioning her leg over the saddle and into the opposite stirrup.

“I can help you up, Tali,” Jon says as he squats and cups his hands and offers them as a step up.

Tali nods and Jana grabs one of her hands for support and Tali’s other lands on Jon’s shoulder as she pushes up into his grip and onto the horse. It’s obvious Tali’s still nervous riding outside of a saddle for the second time and Jana isn’t bothered when her friend wraps her arms around her for stability.

“Don’t worry,” Jon says with a smile. “We’ll walk to the University, so there won’t be any jostling like before.”

Jana huffs in relief as Tali visibly relaxes behind her. “That’s good to hear,” Jana says as she takes the reins from Jon. “Someone will be close in case I lose control, though, right?”

Chuckling, Jon pets the horse’s neck as he nods. “Jameson will ride next to you. Alfi - the horse - is well mannered. Ashlin’s been riding her since I met her, so she’ll take care of you.”

Jana nods as she watches Jameson walk his horse over to them when Jon leaves to mount his horse.

“Never been to the University myself,” he says, jerking his chin towards a paved path that curves around the perimeter of the Citadel just as the bridge to Zakera intersects with the land again before reaching the large doors of the Citadel itself. “I hear it’s quite a sight but few people get to use the Imperial Gate, so it’s mostly for scholars, dignitaries, and important military movements.”

“And everyone else just walks or takes horses … or ships?” Tali asks, sounding a bit incredulous. “That seems like it’d take forever.”

Jameson frowns in confusion just as Jon joins them to catch the last bit of Tali’s sentence.

“How do you travel in your realm? You said horses are rare so ….” Jon trails off, obviously unsure of what other options there could really be.

Jana hums in thought, guiding her horse beside Jon’s and Jameson’s, each on one side as Liara walks her horse slightly behind and to Jon’s other side. “Well, I doubt you’d believe us, but everything we have is run on the same kind of tech we told you about. They’re machines, but way more advanced versions than, say, your huge Conveyor in the Tower.”

Liara lets out a sharp exhale, eyes widening a moment. “And that’s the most advanced machine we have in all of Alysim … besides maybe the Crucible, but I’m not the most skilled at reading schematics of machines and mystical devices, so I could be wrong about the Crucible’s complexity and inner workings.”

“Sounds incredible,” Jon says, voice wistful as he looks up at the curving outer wall of the Citadel as they guide their horses down the path that separates from the direct path between the main doors and the paved one that leads into the large bridge to Zakera.

The path is paved like all the others around the Citadel, but it’s well worn - perhaps by many who wish to avoid the worst traffic within the Citadel for perhaps finding another route in that’s closer to their destined district. Jana hasn’t seen it, but she has a feeling that there’s another main gate coming in from roads rather than only the one from Zakera. In fact, that other gate or gates may very well be the actual main gate and possibly much grander and visually impressive than the one from the docks because traveling the roads through Thessia is obviously the more common means of travel for the average man and woman and the Citadel is anything if not flashy for visitors.

Jana hums in agreement at the wonder of the technology of the world they left beyond now that she’s seen quite a bit of this world. Still, though, Alysim sounds like it has a kind of power her reality thought only things of tall tales and myths. Magic may be close to biotics, but EDI herself is a very drastic change from the AI of Jana’s universe and seems to be made of something that can’t quite be explained so easily as technology of electricity, mechanical parts, and programming. Even if the actual evolution of artificial intelligence is still a debatable topic back home, Jana’s sure people’s minds would be blown to hear of things like living rocks that look lik people and whatever magical fountain EDI even is.

Though she’s not quite well accustomed to the Citadel yet to gauge distances and sizes of districts from outside its walls and with no vantage point above it all to see the actual divisions made with its guard walls, Jana is sure they’ve walked at least far enough to be considered past Kithoi. She isn’t sure until she actually sees a new, sectioned off part of the Citadel further up ahead that she thinks she may be seeing The University or something else leading into a different district and that they may have traveled far enough to be just outside the perimeter walls of a very new district.

Jon gently nudges her and Tali, smiling when Jana - and obviously Tali - glance his way.

“That’s the Imperial University just within those walls,” he says softly with a lift of his chin towards the smaller, but still impressive, structure encircled by its own tall walls. “Try not to let the magisters bother you. They can be a bit … eccentric.”

“No doubt because they spend all day, every day, nose deep in books and magic of grandeur instead of with real people,” Jameson says conspiratorially as he leans over so his lowered voice can be heard.

Jana chuckles but doesn’t respond as her gaze returns to the University as they draw closer.

It’s connected to the Citadel by a long bridge of its own, but instead of crossing open water, it crosses over a section of the ground that naturally dips down to unintentionally create a nice underpass for citizens before it rises back again to where the University sits. Jana can see just enough over the walls to see a main structure that, while tall, pales greatly in comparison to the actual Citadel Tower. Still, it’s impressive and reminds her of a tall central tower of some kind of castle and she has a feeling it’s only a small part of what lies within the actual walls of this little offset of the massive city.

The group is quiet as they cross the bridge towards the tall wooden gates inlaid with metal designs of what Jana can only assume are some kind of symbols from magic or higher education set into the golden and white stone wall. A set of Citadel guards stand at the gate, both clad in what Jana’s come to realize as the Guard’s official armor of white and gold. Both guards are turian, no doubt for the impressive sight of intimidation they pose as the protectors of such a valuable asset to the Citadel and the people the Citadel species’ nation - or whatever exactly it is she’s supposed to equate Eros to.

One of the turians, a dark brown with brightened orange-red markings steps in the center of the alcove built into the bridge for the University’s entrance and holds up his hand with a low rumble. “I’ll need some kind of proof of sanction to enter the University, Captain Shepard.”

Smiling, Jon reaches into a saddlebag on his horse and retrieves a scroll, no doubt the one from the Council now making him an official Templar once more. “I come by the Council’s authority, respectful vordur,” he says as he hands over the scroll that Jana can now see bears a golden wax seal already broken from being previously unraveled back at the Citadel Tower.

The turian hums, the sound like a gentle buzz as he reads before giving a firm nod. “Very well. Congratulations on your reinstatement, Templar Shepard,” he says with a genuine rumble of respect and a slight dip of his head before he steps aside. “You may enter.”

Jana thinks it odd that the guards don’t offer to open the doors, but soon comes to realize they don’t have to as, when Jon leads his horse closer, the doors emit a soft glow of light around a circular symbol at the very center of their joining before slowly shifting, opening inward into the University. Jana gives the guard a quick nod of respect as she passes, but doesn’t have her focus on him for very long as she comes into the University’s open yard and finally gets a good look at the entire structure.

Try to her suspicions, the Imperial University really is more than the single tower that can be seen from outside. The tower itself sits further back, but the castle itself has arms that curve along the outer wall, creating a kind of crescent around the central courtyard where they all stand among a few collections of trees and flora in small planters and apparent magisters mingling in quiet gatherings.

What truly leaves her at a loss for words is the massive …. She doesn’t know how to think of it as anything besides some kind of portal, framed in carved stone similar to the obelisk on this side of the strange convergence of realities that brought her here. Though the symbols in the frame have obviously been carved by someone’s hands, it’s actual shape is more organic in stark contrast to the elegant curves and sharp angles of the Citadel’s - and now University’s - architecture. It even has a small section on one side that curves off of the main body of the fantastical looking portal to make the bottom slightly wider before becoming more uniformly oblique.

The portal itself? How can she put it beyond that very word, ‘fantastical?’

Within the stone frame is the sight of space, of a glowing, swirling nebula of purples, blues, and aqua. It’s flat, like looking through a viewport, but Jana knows it’s so much more than that just by the sensation it radiates, the tension and static electricity it fills the air around them with.

“Is that the Imperial Gate?” Tali asks, voice cracking in shock. “What …. What is it?”

Jon smiles and glances over to her before letting his gaze move back to the portal. “Yes, this is the Gate. It’s said to be the biggest in Eros, maybe all of Alysim too. As to what it is ….” He hums and scratches his cheek. “Well, it’s like a doorway. There’s this natural magic that stretches all across the realm called Fracture-”

“It’s more than mere magic,” an asari says, her face creased in wrinkles as she scoffs and approaches them from a small gathering of scholars - magisters, Jon called them. She wears the whitest of all the robes Jana’s seen both within this courtyard and the Citadel Tower’s elevator chambers. “Fracture is a phenomenon, as unknowable as it is beautiful. Even I, in all my lifetime, haven’t come close to seeing all it is that it encompasses.”

As the asari comes up beside them, her golden facial paints matching the intricate gold stitching throughout her flowing robes, Jon ducks his head and chuckles awkwardly.

“My apologies, Archmagister Dilinaga.”

The obvious Matriarch waves it away with a soft huff of breath before holding up her hand. “I suppose you’re here under great authority, Captain Shepard. Be it the King sending you for Terra?”

“In a way,” Jon says with a smile, offering the scroll he hadn’t bothered in putting away. “I actually have permission from the Council.”

She reads through the scroll before smiling warmly and offering it back. “Templar, hm? Congratulations, Templar. It’s good to see a grand Templar back in service to Council once more. Speaking of, we have Templar Kryik here for matters associated with his mate. Calling in a favor as a Templar, of course,” she adds with an exasperated shake of her head.

Jana looks up just in time to catch Garrus, now clad in a light style of black armor coupled with a small cloak that drapes down his back between his wings, coming towards them with his guard at his back but also with Nihlus - deceased - Kryik. The older turian looks just like the Nihlus that had died in her universe, save for a pair of deep gouges down over his left eye and an eye patch to cover the obviously useless and blind eye.

With the kind of wound to cause those scars, I’m surprised he’s not just as dead as my own universe’s version.

When Garrus catches sight of them, he smiles as their gazes meet and Jana’s forced to look away and feign interest in something else to stifle that flutter of warmth just beneath her ribs. Luckily, Jon saves her having to try and find a reason to avoid the approaching sight of a version of her lost love for long when he raises a hand before tucking the scroll into one of his saddlebags.

“Hail, Nihlus!” Jon smiles and offers his hand in another firm forearm grip as he had done with Garrus when they met. “I hear you’ve brought Ashlin here to be seen by the magisters.”

The tall - taller than Garrus even - turian wears a long black tunic that’s back trails down further than the front that ends just at his thighs and has golden clasps on either side of the curve of his keel that shine in the sunlight whenever he shifts. He hums as he looks over the group and focusing on Jana for only a split second before giving Garrus a glance of something unspoken for an even quicker moment and looking to Jon, rumbling softly.

“Yes. The doctors at Huerta Memorial have done what they could, but the magisters know ways to heal faster than any doctor’s science or healer’s concoctions.” He thrums softly, almost grateful as he half-smiles at Jon. “Not that your healer and Doctor Chakwas didn’t do their fair share in Ashlin’s healing. I just suspect the magisters have … means outside of mere science and potions and salves.”

Jon nods, apparently understanding as Jana is left to only assume that the magisters must really have magic spells like Jameson claimed that could amazingly help in healing. Perhaps, they may very well have just that, which would be one of the best ways to heal people in the coming war because God knows they’ll have plenty of grievously wounded people. Although, a pessimistic part of her suspects that the University might not actually be seeing much people who don’t necessarily qualify as ‘the elite’ if the Archmagister calling helping Ashlin Nihlus ‘calling in a favor as a Templar.”

“I hope you’re right, Nihlus, I really do.” Jon frowns and lays his closed fist on his chest plate, just above his heart. “I feel so much responsibility for her getting injured as badly as she did at Mars.”

Nihlus rumbles in reassurance as he gives his head a slight shake. “Don’t worry yourself over it. Ashlin knows the risks in this war. And she’s already showing great signs of improvement. Fantastic, I’d even say.” He smiles with a deep thrum of genuine happiness that makes Jana shift in the saddle.

Didn’t the Archmagister say ‘mate?’ As in a lover kind of mate? I never would have imagined …. Ash ….

“She may even be conscious by the time you return from Palaven,” Nihlus says as he takes a half step back and looks between Garrus and Jon. “I’ll be joining you if that’s the case. You’ll be needing all the help you can get …. And I know Ashlin will be ready to join us in no time too.”

Jon smiles warmly and flattens his hand over his chest with a firm nod. “I’m sure we all look forward to having you aboard the Normandy and with us.”

Nihlus nods with a slight smile of his own before turning to Garrus. He lays a firm hand on Garrus’ shoulder with a slight hum before giving a firm nod and leaving them, heading back towards the main tower of the University.

Chapter 9: The Diluvian Valley

Chapter Text

Jana and Tali follow the others' example and dismount from their horse, holding the reins as they line up before the portal. She isn't sure what to expect from the experience of going through but has a feeling that the fact they've all gotten off their horses might mean that there's going to at least be some kind of odd sensation. At least one noticeable enough to bother the horses so that they've all given their mounts the freedom of no heavy rider on their backs to add to the stress.

"Have you ever been through a Rift Gate?" Garrus asks her, suddenly feeling too close as his warm presence washes over her. He rumbles before the sound cuts off into a hum. "No wait …. Of course you haven't. You came on the Normandy and you're not … from here …." He trails off, rubbing his neck as he looks forward at the Imperial Gate before glancing awkwardly at her, mandibles fluttering. "I'm probably making you think it's going to be bad, but it won't be …. Don't worry. Really. It's not bad at all, just …."

"Different?" Tali supplies, an obvious hint of tender amusem*nt in her voice that has Jana relaxing slightly beside the tall turian that shares her late husband's … well,everythingsave for the scars.

Garrus lets out a deep breath before nodding with a smile. "Yeah, different. That's a perfect way of putting it."

This close to him, Jana finds herself stealing glances of his new attire, somewhat more suited for him than the fancy tunic he was wearing back in the Citadel Tower. She doesn't know why - and she may just be projecting from her own life with her Garrus - but this Garrus just seemed so out of place in obviously higher-class clothing. He seemed almost uncomfortable at the attention he was getting in the glances from dignitaries he passed and, knowing he's aPrinceand hoping he's at least something like her Garrus, she thinks he may not be one to enjoy the limelight.

His armor seems to be made of thick, black leather with decorate straps spreading out at a diagonal from the central point of his keel where a large, engraved dragon sits, its wings spread up and around to form a kind of black metal badge. His cloak clasps at the same badge and she can see he has a hood as he pulls it up and over a decorative, blue and gold shawl he's had draped over his fringe since they met. The rest of his armor covers him from head to toe in a kind of scaling effect, overlapping pieces trailing down his torso, down the sides of his legs and with an extra flap covering his groin.

The only parts of his body not covered in this intricate leather armor are his wings, fingers and, strangely, his taloned toes.

A wooden bow with sharp curves in the main body and a decorative metal plating that matches his armor is on his person, its body lying partially across one side of his back - tucked into the crook of his wing - and arm as its taut string crosses down the front of his body. A large quiver of arrows is angled in just a way between his wings and on his back that he can grab one with ease. Judging from his chosen weapon, Jana can guess the reason for his bare fingers, but his toes still leave her wondering if it's simply an 'Atheling Garrus' thing or something quite a few turians do. She can't tell with his Praetorian Guard if their boots merely cover the tops of their toes and has a feeling calling attention to the possibility might be some kind of taboo so she keeps the curiosity to herself, perhaps it being something they could talk about at a later date.

After all, turiansaretreated differently because of their wings from the short mention back in the Citadel Tower and look the Doyen gave even a prince of the turian people.

She doesn't look away until she catches Garrus' gaze on her in a sideways glance and she snaps back to their gathering towards the portal, humming as she leadsAfliforward.

Jon is first to lead his white stallion through the portal, disappearing as if he's entering and passing through the sight of the nebula within and onto the other side. Jana looks to Tali in surprise when Liara follows after, neither seen among the nebula's swirling clouds and sparkling stars. Tali wrings her hands a bit in nervousness, but Jameson nudging her with his elbow and smiling seems to calm her.

"Don't worry. It's just like stepping through a door," he says as he goes next.

"Yeah," Jana says with a huff of disbelief at the sight of his horse's rear disappearing into the pane of space. "Maybe more like quite literally going through the door itself."

She hears Garrus' soft, but amused rumble and she glances his way to see him smiling down to her. "If it helps, I can go with you two. The portal's big enough for all of us if we want. Jon just likes to take it slow for his horses."

Jana can't help the smile on her lips as she nods in acceptance.

Damn him for getting to me like this so easily …. Damn me for letting him!

"Alright, now or never," she says as she gently pullsAfli'sreins to encourage her forward.

She can't stop herself from reactively closing her eyes as she steps into the portal, but the sensation that surrounds her isn't as unpleasant as she was preparing for. Much like hitting a Relay back in her universe, there's a moment of weightlessness before she feels a unique, overwhelming warmth surround her, engulfing her inside and out. It feels like the deep embrace of a lover, so close that their hearts beat together as one, and definitely isn't something she feels from Relays, but nonetheless a welcome experience in comparison to her fears.

Just as suddenly as the portal's power washed over her, it's gone, replaced by a much drier, heated temperature in the air and the sounds of life. She opens her eyes to the sight of a much different city than the Citadel, full of turians and the sound of the life much more active than the lonely Presidium but calmer that the overactive bustling of the Zakera District and its docks.

The portal they've come out of seems to be just outside of the city's main body as it stretches up along an incline and is even built against and into the taller cliffside. Opposite the city itself is flatter land of fields and spatterings of farms or gatherings of only a handful of homes. The city doesn't possess the large walls of the Citadel - only a few guard towers overlooking the expanse between the city proper and the flatlands of its rural area - but Jana can tell the high vantage and rear protection of the cliffside gives a great advantage than she originally thought should anyone try to attack across the land.

Not that she'd expect anything like a full-blown attack to come at a turian city from what seems to be a land made of steep cliffs, dangerous dropoffs, and natural towers of rock laid out across the horizon.

This must be Palaven.

She catches Garrus' eyes and he smiles lightly, fluttering his mandibles. "Welcome to Taetrus, Jana," he says as he looks across the city and its outlying fields. "We've just passed through the Trebian Gate," he adds as he draws her attention back behind them towards this side of the portal showing a glimpse of space where two suns seem to rest within a deep red, orange, and bronze nebula.

"It's beautiful," she says, truthfully interested in the design of the city. "Is all of Palaven like this?"

Garrus hums and gives a slight nod. "Palaven is a land made of deadly cliffs and harsh heats." He huffs, anxiousness in his buzzing vocals as he glances down to her. "That's what everyone says about it anyways …. But it's my home."

Jana smiles at the pride he has for his home that, apparently by other species' accounts, is an inhospitable place to live. "I can see where the wings come in handy, now."

Garrus laughs and nods, flexing his wings a bit as if to illustrate the fact. "Yeah, living here is no big deal when you can easily fly where you need to go."

She fights not to reach over and make physical contact - feed some kind of hope that a spark would ignite something between them as if she's touching her lost love - but keeps to herself as she looks out over the horizon. "It's definitely not like any place I've seen, but I can tell how the steep valleys and tall cliffs can create quite a view." She smiles at his happy thrum and nods. "I look forward to seeing more as we travel."

"Atheling," one of his guards say - the female who carries the name of one of Jana's husband's lost team members from his time as Archangel, Mierin. "The Captain of the guard approaches."

Jon nods and turns sideways to Garrus, motioning for him to step forward. "These are your people, Garrus," he says with a slight smile. "I wouldn't want to step on any toes."

Garrus rumbles with a huff and soft flick of his mandible, seemingly not someone that enjoys standing before his people as a higher rank of power, especially when it seems like he's joined Jon more as a partner than a Prince joining a Templar. The friendship is obvious between the two and, to Jana, it feels like Garrus is one who tends to avoid any mention of his title while around Jon and his crew.

Perhaps he doesn't really like the attention and authority that comes with being an Atheling when he's around Jon. As if he doesn't like being considered greater than his friends and prefers to be treated as an equal.

Jana thinks the command might really suit him as he stiffens his back and lifts his chin, mandibles laying against his jaw as he rumbles at the guard Captain's respectful dip of his head. Jana's Garrus, despite his protests and painful betrayal, was a good leader and she can already tell the Atheling is as well. He wouldn't have been at the Citadel, seeking aid for his people and unity between the species to fight the Reapers if he didn't ultimately have a mind for the greater whole of his people, the entire realm even.

"Atheling Garrus," the Captain of the Taetrian guard says with a hum to his vocals, curling the fingers of his right hand and holding it to his heart in some kind of salute to the Prince. "We have been expecting you for some time after word of the Council's refusal to aid Palaven. My name is Captain Cato Cassius," the dark gray turian says, his voice smooth and low in an almost odd kind of similarity with the calming curves of his cream-colored markings that spread across his face, "The Taetrian Guard is at your service."

Garrus hums as he looks over the man in a slate gray set of armor that seems to have been made in a similar fashion to the other guards passing by, though perhaps with more flair in the minute details and design than the simpler ones of the average guard. Rumbling, the Captain then glances to Jon and dips his head in greeting.

"Captain Shepard, I hadn't expected the Alliance to send any kind of representation, but you are equally as welcome in Taetrus." Cassius hums before flicking his mandibles as his gaze moves to Garrus. "I know better than to suspect you haven't heard of Cipritine," he says and Garrus' mandibles twitch, but he doesn't show any sign of upset over the Reapers attacking his home in front of the Captain - not yet, at least. "I've already sent as many of my men as I can afford to aid the Primacy, else I'd offer an escort. As it is now, I have only enough men to guard the Gate. I intend to be prepared for the influx of refugees flooding Taetrus in order to escape Palaven through it."

"Very good," Garrus says with a nod, rumbling as he looks over Taetrus. "And what of the people of Taetrus? Have you begun to evacuate?"

Captain Cassius makes a low rumble as he follows Garrus' eyes. "Unfortunately,ProrexIdus Valen has not issued an evacuation order." The man lets out a deep exhale as his brow plates lower. "Taetrus is such a vital part of Palaven's commerce and connects us to the rest of Eros. We can't afford for the city to become abandoned with still so many turians in Palaven."

Garrus growls low, but nods. "Protect the armory, distribute armor and weapons to anyone willing to fight, and spread your men through the surrounding areas. Things seem under control now, but as soon as the Reapers fully take Cipritine, it's only a matter of time before they spread across Palaven."

"My thoughts, exactly, Atheling." The Captain hums a moment before flicking his mandibles a few times. "My only concern is the presence of remaining separatists still assaulting trade along the roads cutting through the Diluvian Valley. I just don't have the men to track theproditorsdown to where they're hiding in their ratholes," he says with a growl and balls his fists. "If I could, I'd have those men Idohave searching, but I can't spare them or the time."

"Perhaps we can help?" Jon offers, handing his reins to Liara before stepping forward. "The Valley is a way into Taetrus for many people, isn't it? Then we can always spare at least some time to search the area while we wait for the rest of our supplies to arrive." He looks to Garrus as if for agreement and Garrus rumbles, nodding as his body seems to relax slightly in relief that they can at least help his people somewhat while they're here.

"I won't say no to the aid," Cassius says with an obvious hum of gratitude. "Even if you don't happen to find them all, they're too stupid not to have at least some of them come out of hiding any chance they get to rob people on the roads."

"Even if we only manage to find one, that's one lessignavusto harass decent people and pay for the attack on Taetrus," Garrus adds with a low thrum of irritation before he turns to Jon. "What do you say myself and my guard get ourlacertasand we all see if we can entice some separatist cowards into trying to rob us?"

Jon chuckles softly and nods. "They'll be sorry they tried."

"I can have my men bring you yourlacertas," the Captain says, dipping his head as he turns to a pair of turian guards standing at attention further down the path leading up to the Gate. "Retrieve the Atheling and his Praetorians' mounts."

"Sir!" they both respond, stiffening their backs before hurrying away from the Gate and down towards the guard towers and sparse buildings marking the outer perimeter of Taetrus.

Captain Cassius returns his gaze to the group and rumbles as he clasps his hands behind his back, addressing Jon. "It's regretful to say that Taetrus doesn't have the gold to repay you for any separatist bounties you may fulfill." Humming, he glances aside at the distance before giving a stern nod and flicking his mandibles. "But I'm willing to pay out of my own pocket for any one of thoseproditorsyou kill. It's not much, but how does five Royals a head sound?"

Garrus makes a short scoff, but nods. "I'm sure Jon will accept even if youdidn'tpay the bounties, but yourProrexcan't expect anyone to put forth the effort and risk themselves to kill separatists for a mere five hundred gold a head."

Cassius rumbles an agreement and nods. "Yes, butProrexValen has diverted any gold we could use on bounties to rebuilding. I won't ask for more gold for the guard just to use it on bounty hunters when I could be preparing them for war." He lets out an almost exhausted sounding breath. "So it's my own gold as reward and I've little for the entirety of remaining separatists."

"You don't have to pay us, Captain," Jon says with a smile and motions the group. "We won't stand by while people are attacked on the roads, so if we come across any separatists, we'll happily get rid of them for you. They're nothing more than bandits in my eyes."

The Captain rumbles in thanks and dips his head, but says, "I can't rightfully allow aid to go unrewarded. I may change my mind at a later date when my gold is all but gone, but I trust you to do a good job clearing the way for incoming refugees. I'll repay you with more than grateful words, Captain."

"It's actually Templar, now," Garrus says with a hum. "The Council has reinstated Shepard as Templar and he has the proof on his person."

"I trust you, Atheling. I'll make my men aware of your proper title, Templar." Looking down the small descent towards where the two guards he sent earlier are returning with some kind of …reptiles, the Captain thrums as his gaze sweeps over the area of Taetrus and the land just beyond its gates. "If you'll excuse me," he says with a straight-backed nod, "I must see to matters with my men."

Everything after those words fall deaf on Jana's ears as she stares, wide-eyed at the two guards leading a group of four large -very large -lizards towards them. She figures these must be the 'lacerta'mentioned, but she can't really imagine anyone riding the backs of what looks like giant versions of monitor lizards despite the obvious saddles and packs on their backs.

With bodies easily the size of Jameson's horse, thelacertahave tails as long as their bodies but shorter legs than the humans' mounts. Their heads sway as they swing their legs in their swaggering walk, long tongues flicking out occasionally to taste the air. Three are a plain brownish-gray while the fourth has a body the color of a black that shines blue in the sunlight. Faded white spots line its sides, but it's obvious in the look of it that it must be Garrus' mount with its flourish of scale colors and higher quality looking gear.

"Those are lizards," Tali whispers to her and Jana nods, sharing in the shock and disbelief.

Foxes were one thing, but now riding lizards?

Garrus rumbles and Jana looks up to see his half-smile. "They're not as bad as everyone makes them seem. They look worse than they really are."

Jana huffs and gives him a nervous smile. "I just haven't seen a lizard so big before. It's a pretty big shock."

"They'relacerta," one of Garrus' guards, Severus, points out with an annoyed hum. "Not just some averagelizard."

"Keep your pointless semantics to yourself, Severus." Garrus growls softly at the other turian before jerking his head towards Jana. "She can callVidalwhatever she likes," he says with a low buzz to his vocals as he flicks a mandible at her. "It's not like he'll mind it."

Jana smiles softly at Garrus but doesn't speak as the guards arrive with thelacerta. He leaves her then, heading to the blue-black one and climbing into the saddle. With his height, sitting on top of the large reptile's back puts him close to level with the others on horses. It makes her feel a little less awkward about the ride together because she can't imagine having to look at a big downward angle in order to have a conversation with the otherwise towering turians.

Part of her actually likes the idea of being closer to the ground on alacertainstead of atop the horse she's boosting Tali jump up onto. The fact that it's an obviously predatorylizardgives her pause, but as she wedges her foot in the stirrup to push herself up and onto the saddle, she admits that she'd be willing to bet her money on Garrus' claim that their mounts are well trained to act in spite of their appearance if it keeps her from the jostling the horses give when running.

What am I saying? I don't even know how lacerta even run …. They could be so much worse!

"Ready?" Jon asks, bringing his horse around in a circle to look over the others before giving a nod at their affirmative responses. "Good. Let's head to the Diluvian Valley and see if we can't entice an ambush." He chuckles and his gaze lands on Garrus. "If you were a bit more flashy, I'd say it'd be a sure thing."

Garrus huffs, rumbling as he flutters his mandibles a bit. "Crowns and opulence don't really suit me …."

Severus makes a low sound of agreement, but Jana almost misses it. Still, the older Sidonis jerks his head to the younger turian and gives a sharp growl of reprimand, but it seems to fall on deaf ears as Severus merely pushes hislacertato move with the rest of the group as they set off.

Interesting …. Garrus either doesn't hear or chooses to ignore the guy. I wonder why he's getting away with so much insubordination here and back at the Citadel.

It's obvious that Severus has some kind of importance in the Hierarchy because of just how much he has been getting away with saying and doing, but she doesn't know where he stands in the line of succession, of how much authority he actually has to make him think he can be so disrespectful to his people's Prince. She knows her Garrus' body language well enough to be able to see that this Garrus is more than irritated with the other turian, but that he's getting away with so much seems odd. Whatever the reason, it must be a pretty damn good one for Garrus not to take that obvious frustration out on Severus, leaving it to his other Praetorians to get after him instead.

There's a comfortable quiet that falls over the group as they ride, their mounts walking at a reasonable pace considering the intent to ride most of the day once Jon's crew manages to bring the rest of the horses and carriage through the Gate. Jana isn't quite sure exactlyhowlong a horse can walk - let alone alacerta- but she remembers vids talking about grand trips that could take all day on a horse's back before having to camp. By the sounds of the others' conversations about the ride and their intent to get to Cipritine as soon as possible, she thinks that there may be some pretty good truth in the vids concerning a horse's endurance and if Garrus apparently rodelacertasto get here on his previous trip to the Citadel, then the giant reptiles must also be well equipped for a drawn-out journey.

Up ahead of them are gradually - and some not so much - growing cliffs and mountainous formations of large rocks that frame smaller valleys where the road winds over and around much calmer hills and rises. Houses and structures are built on the ground and in the cliffsides alike, nowhere seemingly too dangerous for the turian people to settle. The road they're on branches in multiple directions once it reaches the outskirts of the last of Taetrus' farmlands, but there's a particular road that leads in between a sloping mountain and straight cliff alongside a river.

"That's the Diluvian Valley," Mierin says, shifting her reins to point out the valley for Jon.

"Seems pretty out of the way," Jameson says as he looks between the turian and Jon. "The Captain really think that's where they'll be?"

"While not an all-out war, Taetrus and its surrounding area was strife with civil conflict coming from a group of separatist traitors," Garrus explains with a low growl as if the entire thing left a bad taste in his mouth. "While we should have been planning for the Reapers, Taetrus was dealing with skirmishes breaking out because of a small group of turians that still think humans were forgiven too easily for their actions in the battle of Charon's Gate."

Jon frowns but doesn't add to the conversation, but Jana knows that Alysim is close enough to her universe to know what the 'battle of Charon's Gate' translates to in her reality.

"We called it the First Contact War," she says, biting her lip as she looks up the gradually rising incline of a mountain they're now passing on their trek into the valley and gives a slight nod. "I can see how some turians didn't think humanity paid enough for what happened, but then again, humanity thought the same of the turians. We activated a Relay without knowing the rules against it …. A Relay is sort of like a Gate."

Jon nods and hums, rubbing his stubbled chin. "Yeah. Humans didn't know that we were supposed to wait for contact from the Council before we rushed into activating the Gate of Charon. We didn't really know how to use Fracture and the Council was afraid we'd start a war on the first peoples we came into contact with …." He huffs and shakes his head slightly. "And we kind of did when the turians came to investigate."

"You're people didn't know," Garrus says with a reassuring rumble, flicking his mandible when that seems to help Jon and Jameson relax in their saddles. "It's a reasonable reaction to throw up defenses at our reaction. I admit my father acted a bit quickly and didn't take in the situation - but we didn't know if humans were like the krogan either."

Nodding, Jon smiles at Garrus. "It was a mess on all sides. Don't worry, Garrus. I know neither I nor Jameson have any hard feelings towards your dad or your people."

"Yeah," Jameson agrees, shrugging slightly. "I wasn't exactly there to know what happened and who drew first blood. It was everyone being stupid all at once."

A soft chuckle passes over the group - save for the too self-important Severus who's been deceptively quiet this whole time - and Jana breathes a soft sigh of relief that at least the feelings the turian separatists have aren't shared by Garrus and his turian guards. She wasn't all that aware of what happened in the galaxy while she was dead despite the missing human colonies and Collector attacks, but she's sure there was some kind of civil unrest on her universe's Taetrus because a group of turians still held a torch for racist anti-human beliefs.

"But on the whole, Taetrus doesn't have to worry about the separatists, right?" Jana looks to Garrus with raised brows in concern. "I mean, besides the attacks on the roads, the Captain isn't having to fight a war with your own peoplewhiletrying to evacuate people and fight the Reapers?"

Garrus nods with a slight hum, offering a soft smile. "Yeah …. The General in charge of the direct battles is a friend of my father's - a Praetorian Guard too. He did excellent work dismantling the haphazard separatist army before he returned to Cipritine to help plan for the Reapers."

A rattle of pebbles rolling down the straight cliffside at their side cuts off anyone's response and everyone immediately reacts, setting their hands on their weapons and shifting in their saddles to get a good look at the high rises of the valley surrounding them. Jana doesn't have a weapon, so she's tense as she lifts her eyes to try and catch any movement from either side, unsure if they'll be ambushed from both heights or only the cliff's side where a direct view is obscured. She hears one of the turians hum low, the sound like the white noise of static on a vidscreen.

It happens fast when the attack finally springs and she's surrounded by numerous voices calling out as they catch sight of the separatist attackers above screaming out unintelligible sounds and vocals as they pour from crevices in the cliff wall, their wings spread wide. The four turians in her band of soldiers immediately kick off theirlacertas,shooting straight up to meet the ambush before the separatists can try to swoop down or launch arrows at the rest of them who lack any way of getting off the ground to even the odds.

There are maybe twelve separatists attacking - though she's not sure the number with Garrus and his Praetorians now silhouetted against and shadowed by the sun along with their enemy - their armors and weapons obviously thrown together from scraps they've picked up off the battlefield or merchants they've robbed. Besides Garrus, who she knows is an acher, there seem to be three other turians with bows while the others are equipped with handheld weapons, some also wielding shields. Thankfully, it seems only Mierin can harness magic because Jana isn't sure just how powerful a mage can be in this world, of how much damage they can inflict. Even though Liara's a mage as well, Jana's never actually seen her dealing blows against a living being and not that solid rock creature that attacked and gravely injured Ashlin.

Jon, Jameson, and Liara jump off their horses, letting the animals break away from the group to safety a ways down the road and Jana and Tali share a look before following suit. Even if they can't do anything, maybe they'll be lucky and have a weapon drop or something so they can at least defend themselves or one of the others. Tali, Jana knows, has to stay out of this fight, and she's willing to act as a guard for her friend even if it means she's blindly swinging a sword, hammer, axe, or even using a bow to bludgeon people with.

At the sound of a harsh bark of pain amongst the clash of metal, Jana's attention shoots up in time to see one of the separatists falling, alive but with one of his wings too damaged by a blade to keep him in the air. He manages to catch himself well enough when he hits the ground, but just as soon as he's straight again, Jon and Jameson are on him, forcing the turian to block and dodge incoming blows.

A sword falls to the ground just steps from Jana and, fearing the feeling of being completely unarmed, she backs Tali to the cliffside before sprinting forward for the sword. She snatches the blade up, surprised at the weight in her hand - both light enough that she'll be able to swing fast and easily, but heavy enough that she knows it'll cause damage - and glances up in time to see another separatist duck beneath a visible burst of air that shoots forth from Mierin's crooked staff. The separatist female then flaps her wings with a forceful flick and charges Mierin, mace cracking down on another barrier before Mierin tips herself out of the way of a second blow.

Two separatists have flown down to aid their comrade against Liara, Jon, and Jameson's attacks. Liara's rose staff glistens with magic as she seems to create a type of barrier around Jon and Jameson, clearly deflecting grazing attacks from drawing blood. In return, Jon and Jameson keep the separatists away from her, keeping their attention away from their mage support.

Bodies fall to the ground, too injured - even dead - by the sharpened weapons of the Praetorian Guard or spouting very strategically placed arrows. Jana wouldn't have expected anyone else but Garrus, the only archer in their group, would have the skill to take down separatists with only a few well-placed shots, but it's still surprising to see the accuracy he has with such a primitive weapon as compared to her sniper rifle-wielding husband.

An injured separatist that seems to have gone unnoticed by the ground team approaches the fray, hefting her shield up as she prepares her sword for a surprise blow against Liara. Jana gives Tali a quick look that tells her to stay where she is before charging, yelling to grab the turian's attention.

She doesn't know what she expected charging into a battle she's had no training for, so it isn't a surprise when the turian female swings her large wing around to throw Jana off balance in order to avoid being hit. Still, Jana steps out of the way of a follow-up swing of the turian's sword before grabbing the handle of her own with both hands and bringing the sword down with all her might. The separatist takes the blow with her wooden shield and the force of the impact rattles up Jana's arms, but she manages to keep a hold of the sword as she barely avoids a returning slash from the turian's sword.

Stumbling, Jana loses her footing and the instant thought of 'I f*cked up - I'm going to die' ignites in her mind just as the separatist closes the few steps between them and raises her sword. Jana manages to keep her eyes open, not to show fear at her incoming death, and she knows her block will fail, but she lifts her sword to attempt to deflect the slash anyways, never one to admit defeat so easily.

Only death doesn't come. Instead, Jana hears the quick sound of something shooting past her and the turian woman jerks midstep, an arrow landing directly between her eyes. The separatist collapses in time with Jana's mouth falling open in shock and she just manages to spin around to see Garrus clinging with his feet and a wing onto a jut of rock from the cliffside and drawing another arrow from his quiver. He smiles down to her, the expression full of pride and something else - almost like a promise.

"Thanks," she says, adrenaline pumping through her blood but arms already feeling like she's taken a beating.

"Anytime." He grins before kicking off the rock and giving his wings a powerful flap to fling him up to the last remaining separatist trying to flee from the failed ambush.

The Praetorian Guard don't give chase, though, and instead flick their wings to get out of Garrus' way as he nocks a black arrow, drawing the string of his bow taut as he flicks his mandibles and lines up the fleeing turian in his sights. The arrow is faster than she can see it, only knowing it's been launched by the thrumming of the bowstring as it springs the deadly arrow forward. Unsatisfied with that shot being the killing blow, Garrus quickly pulls another arrow from his quiver, nocks it, and fires with a speed earned through what she's sure is years upon years of practice.

The separatist's body jerks twice at the two arrows hit their mark and he falls, wings collapsing as he lands with a loud clamor of armor and what Jana's sure are bones. He doesn't move, dead from either the fall or the well-placed arrows in both his lower back and neck. She isn't sure which would have been more merciful if she were honest with herself, suddenly very aware of the pain that comes from battle despite her lack of consideration when a fight was just exchanging shots from a gun or the occasional grenade or squadmate's biotics.

The clap of wings slapping against the air surrounds her as Garrus and his guards return to the ground, sheathing their now cobalt stained weapons.

"I think that's all of them," Garrus says with a firm nod and low growl. "Twelve lessnothiattacking caravans and refugees."

Jon nods and sheathes his sword. "Let's get back to the Captain and let him know. I'm sure he'll be grateful knowing the roads are even a bit safer."

Chapter 10: Shield Bashing and Sword Swinging

Chapter Text

Captain Cassius, of the Taetrian Guard, greets them as they ride back into Taetrus. He stands at the Trebian Gate where it seems that Jon's crew has arrived, outfitted with a large, three-horse wagon stacked with crates and barrels and enough horses for the crew that's come along and even a handful more to carry supplies not secured to the wagon. Jana can't imagine how much Jon paid for the entire pack of horses and equipment, but she's sure by the few exchanges of currency and reactions to prices that it must have been a hefty sum.

Perhaps being a Templar and part of the King's Alliance helps? Like some sort of barter system where, instead of gold, you use reputation? It's something to talk about on our long ride.

True to his word, the Captain pays Jon for the twelve separatists they managed to kill in the Diluvian Valley. Watching the exchange, Jana finds that the gold coins she's seen Jon using are what Cassius called 'Royals,' their denomination that of one hundred gold each. As they agreed, Captain Cassius pays five Royals - sometimes supplementing coins of the same size, only silver, as what must be the equivalent of half a Royal - for each separatist, making the total come out to a staggering six thousand in Alysim's currency.

Despite protests, Jon insists on separating the reward with everyone involved, even Jana and Tali who weren't of much help during the actual fight. He takes a large portion for the Normandy's funds for supplies and upkeep but makes plans to divide the remaining three thousand among the nine of them. Garrus refuses his portion, joking about needing to be the one to provide gold for their cause as Atheling, but Mierin and Sidonis reluctantly accept their cut after a time, having to be convinced that they deserve it even if they saw it as their duty to fight alongside their Atheling to ultimately defend their people. Severus, however, denies any coin with a blatant upturn of his nose as if insulted by the very idea, no sense of 'duty to his people' in his vocal tones when he refuses.

Jana and Tali, however, don't get away with declining their portion and Jon all but grabs their hands to place their coin in their palms. With only Jameson, Liara, Jon, Jana, and Tali to split the remainder of the bounty Captain Cassius paid, each person gets a staggering six hundred gold - or equal denomination.

Once they set off on their journey towards Cipritine, Jana stays mostly quiet, pensive and content to listen to the others talk and share stories but happy that Tali seems to be comfortable when they include her in their conversations. It's one voice in particular, though, that Jana finds herself always latching onto, entranced by every word spoken.

It's Garrus' voice, deep but smoother than her husband's after his extensive injury to his throat that left his voice ever so slightly graveled. She remembers the way his voice almost seemed like a growl when he spoke, the roughness of it more prominent when he was upset, but this Garrus' voice rolls over her like a warm, smokey rumble. Without the wounds to restrict him as her husband had, this Garrus' vocals croon and sing in multitudes of tones and soothing words. Even the occasional growl he does make - usually aimed at his one stubborn and disrespectful guard - doesn't carry that grizzled hardness she once felt against her skin after she had calmed the self-destructive fire in her Garrus, even if only for a handful of moments.

Palaven, much like Garrus had said, truly is a beautiful place with its towering cliffs and rocky formations. It reminds her of The Grand Canyon and surrounding desert on Earth, seemingly inhospitable but actually teeming with life that's made itself a part of the very landscape. Animals seem to have shaped their lives around the tall heights and Taetrus is not alone in the way it's built into the tall, ramrod straight rise in the rocks and jagged stone painted in varying tones of scarlet and shades of bronze. There are some towns on the road from Taetrus built into the cliffs as if chiseled into the rock at heights clearly meant for turians and not the average passersby to just waltz into.

She could see how some people may think Palaven is a place meant only for turians and, if she's honest, it truly is in the way they've developed bodily and infrastructurally to suit the harsh landscape. While a disadvantage for other species, Jana realizes it can be a very beneficial way to protect the turian people and their settlements from attack if said attackers lack the wings turians have. It makes her wonder if the Reapers attacking Cipritine have somehow found a way to circumvent the dilemma.

Reaperized turians are going to be one hell of a fight. I'm almost scared to see what they've become.

As it grows late, the bright sun setting on a very long day of travel, Jon calls the caravan to a stop when the land spreads out around the road and gives them the first somewhat level ground to make camp. It's still situated on a bit of a hill, but there is quite a good view of the road ahead as well as behind so that they can see if anyone's coming from a ways off, enough to give them time to prepare if it's danger. That and the lack of cliffs pressing tightly around on their sides protects them from any direct attack from the higher cliffs. She knows Jon's going to set out a guard so that, if anything suspicious shows itself in the night, the alarm will go off quickly and in time for everyone to prepare for an attack anyways, but it's much less claustrophobic and ominous than the valleys and crevices the path has been winding through.

Jana isn't sure if Jon told one of his crew to help her and Tali set up a tent or if the man that approaches decided to offer aid out of his own goodwill, but they gratefully take him up on the offer when he approaches. They help to set up the wood beams in a row of four that come to peaks where a straight bar creates the solid spine of the tent. A tarp is drawn over the squared tent, tied taut to keep out the elements should the weather change in the night with a small flap on either side for access that can be tied back and open, or pulled closed. The man rolled out a thick blanket too, promising that it'd help to keep some of the night's cold from seeping up out of the ground.

It's not huge, but enough for her and Tali to lay side by side on a padded bedroll each and keep their packs of belongings inside and out of the weather. She's satisfied with that and Tali seems less focused on where they'll be sleeping and more on how she can be of some use in setting up the rest of the camp.

Jana, however, needs to get into something much less constricting than her armor if she wants to offer to help anyone in setting up more tents or the other necessities of camp. She lets Tali lead the horse Jane was riding towards where the others are being tended to by Sybill and Bettrice, the women who resemble the two soldiers that once guarded her Normandy's security checkpoint and obviously hold authority over tending to everyone's mounts.

Well, thehorses,anyway. Mierin takes over for Garrus and his other guards in unpacking their lacertas once she quickly gets out of her lighter armor and leaves on the black and cobalt robe beneath.

Laying the last of her armor down beside her bedroll, Jana stretches, hands on the back of her hips as she arches her back with a low groan. She hears a shuffling of footsteps approaching but doesn't immediately acknowledge them, figuring they're just another one of the crew preparing the camp or Tali returning to have her chance at relaxing after their long ride. It isn't until the person clears their throat to make her well aware that they mean to get her attention that she realizes they're here for her.

Jana grunts and holds her position a moment more to make sure her back is limber enough that sleeping on a hard ground won't worsen her stiffness from riding too much, knowing the last thing she needs is an aching back only this soon in their journey. Ashlin's horse is nice and her gait smooth, but life in Jana's universe just never lent itself to growing accustomed to the posture needed for riding horseback, armor or not.

"Hope you're not too sore from the ride," Jon says when she opens her eyes and straightens up. "I thought I might show you some things while they get dinner cooked."

Jana raises her brows at the shield in his hands, diamond-shaped with metal outlining its shape and crossing across the wooden front. It's clearly not his shield, but she's sure it's one he's had brought from the Normandy for what she figures as a backup in case his breaks. It definitely doesn't look as unique as his blazing sun one, but she figures looks come second to a good defense when it's a matter of survival in the middle of battle. It's how she's always seen her gear and weapons, though Jon and his men are admittedly much more diverse appearance-wise with their varying armor styles and weapon types than her own universe's standard armors and guns.

If she's right in her guess what his 'showing her some things' might mean by looking at the unknown shield in his hand, then she's all for some instruction on how to learn to block an attack instead of the unpracticed deflection she reacted with back in the Diluvian Valley.

"Are you going to teach me with that?" she asks, motioning the shield with a smile. "Because I'm game … but I don't know how much I can keep up with you. I have a feeling it's not going to be as easy as lifting a gun and holding it steady when I pull the trigger."

Jon hums, pursing his lips a bit. "I'm not sure I completely understand your comparison, but yeah, it'll be different. Tali said your guns are a lot like our crossbows, yeah? Well, this," he says, hefting the shield that's about three feet long, "is definitely not like a crossbow. From what I know of your realm, I don't really think there's anything you've recalled that sounds like a shield, so this training might be a bit different from how you were trained."

"I know the basics, but yeah, I could definitely use the help." She looks at herself, seeing her tighter underpants and tunic that's meant to go beneath her padded gambeson. "Should I change? Get back into my armor?"

Jon shakes his head and smiles, motioning his own loose, brown pants tied around his legs at his mid-calf and relaxed, cream shirt. He isn't even wearing any shoes, which makes Jana think that either he's used to heat against his feet or the sands of their camp has already cooled considerably in the sunset.

"Something comfortable will suit just fine," he says as he turns away, jerking his head towards a good-sized clearing where Jana can just barely see Tali fiddling with something - a crossbow, maybe - in her hands. "I'll be waiting over by my tent for you. I think we'll work on shield work before we start mixing it up with both shield and sword."

Jana chuckles slightly and smiles. "Are we doing shields and swords because it's an easier combo to learn … or because it'syourfavorite?"

Grinning, he makes a feigned sound of possibility as he shrugs his shoulders and Jana laughs.

"Alright, fair enough," she says and lightly waves him away. "I'll get into something a bit more comfortable and be with you in a bit."

Jana quickly changes into a pair of green, cropped pants, and a thin, loose-fitting shirt she was used to wearing on the Normandy to bite back the chilly sprays of salty air in the dark hours of the cold nights at sea. She leaves off her shoes not only because Jon had, but because by the time she's finished getting dressed, the ground has cooled considerably as the sky is thrown into fiery reds and oranges before darkening into a starry black.

The camp has already set out torches, lending light to the small paths between tents and creating a bright glow where they are joined by a large fire in a clearing at the center of the camp. Jon's large tent overlooks the clearing, its double flaps tied open to show not only a basic living quarter but what looks like a place to gather and look over plans or maps strewn across a makeshift table. It makes Jana think that he's turned his tent into a place to strategize as well as sleep and, from what she knows about him, she doesn't find it all that surprising he'd keep something as important to their cause close to his person.

Seeing Jameson helping Jon gather up a pair of plain-looking swords and the shield he had shown Jana along with his own, Jana smiles and waves a hand in greeting as she approaches. Jon grins as he sets the diamond shield down, its pointed bottom set in the ground.

"You ready to learn how to use a shield?" He asks before motioning away with his chin, leading Jana's attention to where Tali is set off to the side with a crossbow and straw and burlap target carefully situated away from any bystanders should a bolt fly astray. "I've started Tali on seeing if she can get the hang of the crossbow since she seemed to think it'd be closest to your old weapons and safe enough that she's not in the middle of battle."

"Good idea," Jana says, nodding as she smiles at her friend trying to line up the crossbow and just barely missing when she pulls down on the elongated trigger bar. "We'd like to avoid any tears to her suit if possible."

"Very well." Jon lifts the shield and pivots his body to stand beside her, giving her a look of the inside of it and the straps that she'll need to wield it, a thick pad between them as cushioning for her forearm to account for the force of impact. "Here's where you'll slip your arm in …. In these two straps. We'll buckle them tight enough for you to use easily. This," he says, motioning a metal latch on the top and bottom edge of the shield, "is where we'll place a strap so you can carry your shield on your back …. Once you're ready, of course."

Handing over the large shield, he points to the padding. "Your forearm goes against that …. I'll tighten your straps," he says as she holds the shield against the floor to keep it steady while he pulls the leather straps through the buckles and tightens them so that they are just snug. He tests the fit by slipping his fingers between her arm and the pad before giving a nod. "You will be able to pull the shield on and off easier with a fit like that. It's secure, but not constricting … right?"

Jana lifts her arm, releasing the shield with her other hand that had been keeping it still and straight. She moves her arm up and down a few times, testing the weight and fit of the shield before nodding at the lack of pull from too much slack or uncomfortable pressure from being too snug. "Yeah, it feels good …."

"We'll adjust if we have to once we get started." He looks at her a moment before grabbing the shield's edge and giving her arm a shake and she instinctively stiffens it, but he shakes his head. "Don't tense up. You don't want to lock your elbow or you'll break something. You'll need to get used to taking the brunt of a blow with this arm," he says, but smiles softly. "It'll hurt at first … a lot. Leave you sore enough that you'll think it'll fall off, but keeping your arm loose on impact helps."

"Got it," she says with a nod and flexes her hand and forearm muscles a bit to get into the mindset of being lax. "Give into the hits."

"But don't let it bash into your face or we'd have a lot bigger problems."

Jana chuckles nervously, imaging the damage. "Yeah …. Definitely don't want that."

It'd probably kill me, to be honest.

He gives her a last look before nodding with a smile. Holding up a hand, he says, "Wait here while I get mine."

As he straps his shield into place on his left arm, she notices that they've earned themselves a small crowd of onlookers. Liara smiles when Jana's eyes meet hers, the asari in a loose, lilac robe she tugs tighter against the chill of the dusk. Tali seems to have set her crossbow training aside to watch, though her nod gives Jana the feeling of support more than an interest in gawking at her flailings. Jameson crosses his arms and leans a hip on a barrel in line with a small row beside Jon's tent and smiles at Jana, giving her a firm, confident nod.

Jana smiles lightly in thanks, but it fades slightly when she sees Garrus approaching, wearing a dark blue robe of his own secured around the waist with a loose, black sash. He flutters his mandibles at her as he moves to stand with Jameson on the sidelines.

"Come to watch,Hoyhet?" Jameson asks Garrus with a grin, nudging the turian with a shoulder. "Want to see what happens when the real soldiers fight?"

Garrus huffs and raises a brow plate. "Idoknow how to wield a sword, you know. I was trained in close quarters combat, I just choose a bow. Nightingale has never let me down," he says with a low rumble before looking to Jana. "I could work with you once you're ready for a sword."

Jon chuckles as he approaches, shield in place and a plain sword not his usual one in hand. "That'd take you actuallyhavinga sword. Last I checked, we don't carry turian swords."

Garrus hums, mandibles flicking a few times as he rubs his neck. "Yeah …." he trails off, clamping his mandibles to his jaw. "Well … maybe later."

Jana smiles softly to herself as Jon comes to stand before her.

"Alright," he says, "ready to test your grip?"

Lifting her brows in surprise, she looks at him in confusion. "I don't -"

Before she can ask what exactly he plans to do to 'test her grip,' he bashes his shield into hers, knocking her back. She stumbles a few steps but luckily manages to keep herself from making a fool of herself by falling on her ass. Her arm immediately screams at the pain shooting up to radiate in her shoulder as she cringes.

"sh*t …."

"Damn,Foniks," Jameson says, standing straight up and distracting from Garrus' wide-eyed, mandible splayed look of shock. "Try giving a bit of a warning."

"No, no," Jana says, shaking her arm to loosen some of the pain. "I'm good." Taking a deep, steadying breath to calm the sharp stab at the movement, she nods to Jon. "Keep going."

Smiling warmly, Jon matches her nod and rolls his wrist holding the sword. "I'm going to use the sword this time. Try to watch and anticipate where I'm going to strike. Don't worry about having to attack back."

Jana clenches her jaw, parts her feet and bends her knees into a more stable stance. She plans to be more prepared for this attack, even if it might not be as hard as the shield bash. Seeing from his previous actions, Jon isn't going to feign the force of his blows for her sake and she respects that. Wants it, even.

Still, she knows he moves slow enough for her to at least have a chance at anticipating his movements, seeing his wind up a mile away to know what direction he's going to strike from. That isn't saying much, however, because she knows it's only her previous combat training that she can catch the tells and he hits hard, metal making a loud clang as his sword makes contact with the metal crossing the front of her shield.

Her arm screams in pain, but she knows not to hold the shield steady with both hands, knows that's not how combat with a shield works. Slowly, he pushes her across the small field the crowd has given them for their practice, guiding her around with each rattling blow to her raised shield, but she doesn't relent, doesn't call for a break. Whether that be because of stubbornness not to show weakness or sheer determination to learn while not neck-deep in Reapers, she doesn't know nor care to think about while fighting back Jon's onslaught.

Once it seems like she's just gotten the hang of blocking his blows and adjusting for the brunt of his attacks, Jon adjusts, beginning to mix up his tactics to better fit a real battle. This time, when he comes in for a slash, he truly proves he had been holding back when his sword strikes with the force he'd use against a real enemy. The move was still as plain as day, but Jana knows she'd never be able to take him at his best.

She knows that, he knows that, and, hell, everyone around damn well knows it, even if they aren't outwardly giving that thought away.

Coming at her before she can completely adjust, Jon sidesteps and slams his shield against her own. She just barely manages to catch it, but it's sloppy and she can feel the impact from her toes to her grinding teeth and she can't hold her ground, dropping to a knee. Even with her shield held up, she knows that, if she truly were his enemy, the fight would be over, she'd be dead.

One swift downswing with his sword and Jana would be no more.

She's fully ready for a round of applause from the crowd and smug look on his face, but they all surprise her once again as she audibly hears some gasps and sharp intakes of breath and sees Jon's eyes widen as he immediately drops his sword to the dirt.

"sh*t," Jon says quickly as he kneels beside her, worry etched in his features. "I'm so sorry." He offers a hand to help her to her feet, thankfully not making her feel like a damsel that's just made an ass of herself. He grips her forearm firmly and pulls her up and all her self-ridicule running through her head loses some of its fire at the pride in his eyes.

She wants to feel like she's of some use here, not some bottom of the totem pole tagalong, and wants to train to use the weapons of this word. With the look in Jon's eyes and the approving gazes of the others, this defeat feels less like a failure to add to her list and a genuine learning experience. No one seems to fault her for falling and after losing so much lately in her life, the warmth is certainly an unexpected, but welcome surprise.

"I got to admit," Jon says as she brushes off her knees and he moves to pick up his sword again. "You're doing better than expected given the kind of weapons you came here with. If you want, we can switch to you attacking, test your sword skills."

Jana huffs and shakes her head, panting as the sweat as her brow cools in the chilly night air. "What 'sword skills?' I have no idea how to wield a sword …."

"You can use an omni-blade," Tali supplies, encouraging tone in her voice and a smile in her eyes when Jana glances over to her. "It must be at least somewhat the same."

"Don't know about that," Jana says, doubtful, but Jon merely shrugs.

"Who knows whatthatis, but I think you're well on your way to catching on with this. You're at a much higher level than a complete stranger to battle." He looks to the others and they share nods.

"I guess some combat trainingcantranslate." Taking a deep breath, Jana lifts her shield and nods. "Alright, if you think we should move to swords, I'm game."

"Might want to hold off on that," Jameson says with a grin, pointing towards the big fire where crew seem to be finishing up a meal. "It looks like dinner's ready and I don't want to miss out on anything."

Jon chuckles and nods, unofficially ending the session and watching the others gather themselves before turning to Jana with a smile. "You did good. I really mean that, not just saying that for the others. You seem like a natural for it."

Smiling, cheeks warming slightly at the compliment, Jana nods in gratitude. "Thank you for this. I know Tali agrees when I say that we want to be of some use to you. We're ready to do whatever it takes to learn."

Jon nods softly and softly bumps his shield to hers. "Come on, I'll show you where we'll be keeping your things in case you ever want to practice alone on the training dummy Tali's using."

"Speaking of, how's her training coming along?"

Jon hums and shifts his sword to his shielded hand, scratching the back of his head. "Well, I admit I'm not the best at ranged weapons, but she's hitting the target most of the time." He shrugs and smiles at her. "I think she has a better advantage in learning quickly than you …. No offense."

"None taken," Jana says with a light laugh. "Crossbowsarea lot more like guns than a shield and sword."

"You can always change to something else. I just figured you'd benefit most learning the same weapons as me." He clears his throat, seemingly embarrassed. "Not like I mean I'm some expert, but I certainly don't have the same handle on huge weapons like Jameson's hammer or Ashlin's greatsword. We may be able to switch you up for a mace or hatchet if you'd like, but again, I won't be able to teach you everything about it."

Jana nods. "We'll stick to your trademarks for now. I want to learn from the best," she says, chuckling and raising her free hand when he opens his mouth to protest. "And, yeah, you are the best. You wouldn't be where you are if you weren't. You're pretty much everyone's hero, after all. No one can do this but you."

"I don't know about that …." Jon scratches his head with a modest shrug. "But I'll do my best."

Laying her hand on his shoulder. "That's the best we can all do. And I'm right here, for whatever that's worth. I plan to do my best to make sure here ends up better than my world."

Chapter 11: Late Night

Chapter Text

After a few days on the roads, an ominous black begins to weave its way through the Palaven skies, spreading across its expanse like sickly veins that darken the deeper into the province they travel. The turians of their expedition gradually grow more and more uneasy with each passing day that brings them closer to Cipritine and though they hide the tension well, their postures speak a language anyone accustomed to turian body language can understand.

If any question still remains, one look at Severus in particular or snappy remark from him is enough to give any doubters a good enough idea of just how tightly strung their turian allies all are. Garrus does his best to hide it, trying to stay jovial and openly conversational around everyone else, but Jana can still tell he’s carrying the weight of worry and impatience on his shoulders.

And who can blame him? His home is being torn apart by Reapers while we’re stuck traveling at a walking pace.

She’s still trying to get accustomed to the fact that though they seem to be walking at a slow pace with their horses and lacertas, they are actually using one of the best means of transportation this world has to offer. Where she and Tali are so used to a skycar or shuttle to transport them across vast expanses of land and space, all Alysim has is its horses - or the like - ships, and peoples’ own two feet. Running their horses like in the vids back home is inefficient and cruel, only causing more problems for them and pain for their mounts, and slowing their overall progress as a result.

And traveling by ship will only take us right into the Reapers’ hands with how Cipritine and Menae are situated. By having control of both, they control the water between, keeping anyone from sneaking in by ship. I don’t have to see a map to believe everyone when they say it’s a bad idea.

Still, Jana stays up some nights wishing she knew a way to help ease Garrus’ stresses over his home. Ultimately, she knows nothing but action will ease his fears of the state of his home and family, but she can’t help but recall the days with her own Garrus where it seemed talking over things eased their stress, even if she never truly got her husband to calm completely after Omega.

Her cowardness wins out, though, and she never leaves her tent at night. She lays in her bedroll and stares at the thick material of their tent, listening to the sounds of Tali sleeping, the slight rasp of her modulator buzzing with her breath. Her aching arms are her only companion the late nights, but she fears getting out of the tent to explore the camp for company, deciding it’s safer to avoid any possibility of running into Garrus should he be as restless as she is.

Instead, she worries her ring with her fingers, trying and failing to wipe away the blemishes caused by it lying against her sweaty chest during the day and rubbing against her hands - that are never as clean as they used to be back in her reality - at night. She’s grown used to the fact, but it still hurts to know the bright shine of her ring is dulled by the slight grime on her fingers and, yet, she can’t keep herself from caressing it when she’s alone, anxiety of the growing unknown running through her mind in the late hours of the cold Palaven nights.

A slight sniffle to her side draws Jana’s attention to her tent companion and she turns to her head see Tali’s sleepy eyes peering at her in the dark.

“Can’t sleep?”

Tali hums and shrugs.” I should be asking you that,” she says before yawning softly. “What’s wrong?”

“Just … thinking.” Jana shrugs and looks up at the tent ceiling where the fabric comes to a sharp angle at the center beam. “Mind’s racing, but I’ll be fine. You should sleep. It’s probably just my achiness keeping me up.”

Tali scoffs and reaches over to take Jana’s hand still rubbing her ring unconsciously. “Tell me. Please?”

Sighing, Jana releases her ring and gives Tali’s hand a soft squeeze before she lays both of her own hands on her chest. “I guess I just feel the same stresses weighing on me that everyone else feels the closer we get to Cipritine. I know what our Palaven was like and, Tali, it wasn’t good.” She closes her eyes and adds, “And even if he isn’t mine, I get this tightness in my chest seeing Garrus worry over what we’ll find. I wish there was a way to help him prepare for what’s to come, but even I’m not sure what happened for me will happen here ….” She frowns, clenching her eyes tighter. “And I’m afraid.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Him.”

Tali takes a deep breath as she shifts in her bedroll. A moment later, Jana feels Tali closer, her hand covering one of Jana’s once again. “You shouldn’t keep hurting yourself over him being here. I see how you try to avoid him, even when it hurts you.” She links her fingers with Jana’s. “Even here, you two are drawn to each other.”

“That’s just because I’m fooling myself -”

“No,” Tali says sharply, smacking Jana’s hand lightly. “I’ve seen the few times you let yourself talk to him. You enjoy talking to him.” Tali pauses and Jana’s sure she’s watching her face for any reaction, humming when Jana bites her lip to keep it from quivering. “Don’t you think Garrus would want you to be happy? With everything we’re going through? He’d want you to find any kind of happiness to take away from the constant war around us, even for a little while.”

Jana wants to protest, to tell Tali she’s wrong, but they were both so close to her husband that she knows Tali’s right. Even in his worst moments of self-doubt and mental anguish, Garrus wanted what was best for her. He never wanted to be just another weight on her shoulders and it took her hounding and promising to never let it affect her like he feared before he even opened up just a fraction about Omega and his life while she was gone.

And even then, I know he kept his secrets. Kept things from me because he didn’t want to be a burden on me like everyone else while I was trying to be the strong, infallible leader.

Jana takes a deep breath before opening her eyes and tilting her head to look at Tali by her side. “And what about you? Don’t act like I don’t see how you act around Jon.”

Tali’s eyes narrow and she huffs. “Don’t change the subject.”

“Please, Tali ….”

Sighing, Tali gives Jana’s hand a squeeze before moving to mirror her, looking up at the tent’s taut fabric. “I know he’s hiding something just like you …. I think he had a Tali and he lost her just like you did Garrus. That purple rope he has? It’s an old quarian thing in our universe, a union tie.” She lays her hands on her chest, silence falling over them for a moment. “I don’t want to cause him pain, but I don’t push him away when he talks to me …. I like him, Jana.”

Jana smiles to herself, happy that Tali seems to be finding some kind of happiness and comfort to latch onto in this world that may very well turn quite deadly to her once their purification supplies run out. This world also seems to be all levo, despite turians in their old reality being dextro because Garrus and his guard didn’t even bat an eye when they were offered food from the Normandy’s stashes.

Could it be only a matter of time before we really need to start worrying about Tali? Could I lose her?

I can’t lose her …. Not now, after so much ….

“Jana?”

She takes a moment to push away her worries before she glances to her friend and smiles, though she isn’t sure Tali can see her expression in the dark. “I can tell,” she jokes before chuckling. “I think he likes you too, but it’s good you aren’t pushing. He and I may be a lot closer than just our names.” She shifts just enough to bump Tali with her shoulder. “And he is a pretty good guy. I’m sure I’d have a lot more to say if you were attracted to some ass.”

Tali snorts before yawning again and Jana shifts up to an elbow to look down at the dark form of her friend, only able to tell where Tali is by her glowing eyes behind her mask.

“You should get back to sleep. It’d be pretty embarrassing if you fell asleep on the ride and fell off the horse or something.” She smirks and taps Tali’s voice modulator with her finger. “And you snore …. Wouldn’t want Jon knowing.”

Tali scoffs and swats at Jana. “I don’t snore, you bosh’tet,” she snaps, her voice raised as much as she thinks possible without waking people in the neighboring tents. “My modulator doesn’t count as snoring.”

Chuckling, Jana shrugs. “Sure it doesn’t.” She shifts to pull aside her bedroll’s cover.

“Where are you going?” Tali shifts up on an elbow to watch Jana crawl out of the tent.

“I can’t sleep …. And I don’t want to stare at the ceiling anymore.” Jana pats her pants down and looks around the softly lit camp, thankful for the few torches placed about because she doesn’t have one of her own or a lantern to use. “I’ll let you sleep, see if I can find myself something to do until I get tired.”

Tali huffs and slowly lays down after a moment that proves Jana won’t change her mind. “Don’t stay up too late. Wouldn’t want you falling off a horse.”

Jana chuckles and nods, knowing Tali isn’t looking her way to see it but feeling the need to do it anyway. “Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll be back soon enough.”

Walking the camp, she finds two members of the crew making lazy laps around the perimeter of the map, a horn to alert everyone on a strap looped around their necks. They give her a greeting nod as they pass, but she doesn’t join them in their patrol, heading for the center of the encampment to see if the central fire is still burning or has chilled to embers.

She finds two more crew sitting at the fire pit, a much smaller fire blazing to keep them warm. She doesn’t know their names and doesn’t stay to chat because she finds Jon’s tent open, one flap still pulled back to let light spill out onto the ground. Jana approaches slowly, ears perked for any conversation coming from the tent, not wanting to intrude if Jon is currently discussing strategic matters inside.

When she hears no voices coming from the tent, Jana peeks past the drawn back tent flap and sees Jon leaning over a map, face drawn tight in concentration. He glances up just as she turns to leave him be and calls out.

“Jana,” he says, standing up with a deep sigh. “You’re up late.”

“Can’t really sleep.” She shrugs and rubs her arm. “I guess I’m still not completely used to everything ….”

Jon nods and comes to her, laying a hand on her arm as he motions to walk with him. “I just talked to Garrus and his Praetorians. We’re very close to Cipritine and it’s obvious that the Reapers have a strong presence there.” He looks up and Jana follows his eyes, seeing a faint red glow following the same pattern as the ominous black veins that branch out across the sky when the sun is up. “The Corruption is already this far …. That’s not good ….”

“Is that the Corruption?” Jana asks, jerking her head towards the sky when he looks to her before letting her gaze move back to the unnatural way scarlet weaves among the stars, glowing like the glimpses of magma through cracks in black rock.

Jon nods. “It’s a part of it …. It’s like they poison everything they come into contact with, even the air. But it does things to people too … changes them.”

Jana bites her lip and nods. “We called it ‘Indoctrination.’ It didn’t make the skies dark or anything, but they caused enough destruction to black out the sky with ashes and debris from whatever was in their path.”

“And now you can see why Garrus is so stressed about his people. His family is in Cipritine and he only has three Praetorians and us to charge into Cipritine with.” Jon rubs a hand over his shortly buzzed hair. “And Severus is giving him a hard time about going in with so many people, says he should approach more cautiously, stealthily. I can see what he’s getting at, but part of me wants to make sure Garrus doesn’t go alone.”

“What’s with that guy, anyways? Severus?” she asks, looking around the camp to make sure no one is nearby to overhear. “He’s a disrespective asshole to Garrus. If Garrus is royalty, why does he let his guard get away with that kind of crap?”

Jon hums before saying, “Severus is third in line of succession behind Garrus and his twin sister, Solana. He’s a Vakarian too, Garrus’ cousin.” He shrugs and looks up at the sky. “I don’t know why Garrus lets him do some of the things he does, but I’m sure it’s a turian thing we’re not really privy to.”

Jana doesn’t like the answer, but drops it, knowing Jon wouldn’t be keeping something from her without at least saying so. If he doesn’t have the answers, then she figures she’ll just have to be left to wonder. She just doesn’t like it, hates that Garrus can be at such a high position of power and still lets his own blood nag at him when he should be trying to stay calm about the state of Palaven. No one knows what Cipritine is like and they won’t until they arrive at the capital city, but having Garrus going in already as stressed as he seems - and only getting worse with his cousin’s unhelpful pressuring - is only going to put them at the risk of making mistakes.

Jon will make sure Garrus has his head on right. I’m sure of it …. I wish I could do something to help, but how could I? I can’t even talk to Garrus for more than a few seconds before backing out like a coward.

Wanting to shake her thoughts from her mind, Jana looks around and motions back the way they came to Jon’s tent. “Is there anything you could show me that’ll help my training? I know it’s too loud to work with our shields, but could there be anything else we could do? I don’t know, to pass the time and maybe tire ourselves out?”

Jon’s brows raise in surprise but he smiles and nods. “Yeah, we can practice. Shield training is definitely too loud, but we can always start working on your swordsmanship with the dummy. Hitting straw isn’t going to cause much noise and it’ll be a good enough start.”

She smiles and nods. “Great,” she says, following after him. “Thanks for this. I don’t know if I’ve said it already, but these past few days have really helped me feel less like I’m just sitting around and eating your food. I feel like I just may be able to help one day.”

Chuckling, he nods and pats her back, leaving his hand on her at the last touch to guide her into his tent. “Don’t mention it. Anything to help … and anything to help you be of help to us,” he adds with a soft, yet warm laugh. “I admit I’m looking forward to the extra sword and crossbow. But only when you’re both ready, not before.”

“Trust me, I don’t intend to run into battle unprepared again. I learned my lesson ….”

Embarrassingly ….

He huffs a soft chuckle of amusem*nt as he fetches a sword from the wooden stand where his normal, golden sword is propped up, the orb within its handle dim and no longer glowing as it does on the battlefield. The sword he offers her is very plain in comparison and doesn’t look all that sharp, but she realizes that it’s a good decision not to give her a sharpened blade for her first chance at practice. Even if she’ll be wailing on a dummy, she doesn’t want to run the risk of hurting herself or somehow hurting someone else.

“So we’ll start with stance,” Jon says, taking his sword and leading her out into the warm light of the small fire and towards the dummy they’ve set up for Tali off to the side, away from anyone who would be hurt by a stray bolt while she’s still getting used to the weapon. “It’s similar to how you’ve been standing with the shield, only now you’ll lead with the sword.”

He lowers, bending his knees slightly and stepping slightly forward with his right leg. Jana follows his instruction, falling into a familiar enough stance that she’s adapted to with the shield, only now she no longer has a huge barrier between her and her imaginary opponent. It leaves her with a small feeling of being exposed, but Jon’s approving nod and smile help to alleviate some of her worries that, if she were actually fighting an opponent, she’d be leaving herself open to attack without any chance of being in the right position to protect herself.

“Hold your weapon like this, so that the weight is like an extension of your arm. Use your shoulder and upper arm, like this,” he says as he makes a soft swing in the air with his sword and Jana does the same, but obviously wrong as he shakes his head. “Relax your hand. Don’t grip it so hard …. Yeah, that’s right.”

Jana nods and swings the sword in the air in front of her, trying it from different directions and angles of her wrist. Jon chuckles and nods, getting back into stance in front of her, but far enough that they can move their swords between them without colliding.

“There are eight ways to attack a target, but the best way to choose is to be able to read your opponent.” He swings his sword at an upward diagonal, stepping back to let Jana mimic him. “Your target points are the head, the neck, shoulders, their gut, and their legs. Think about the places where armor will be thinnest. Only thrust forward when you have a perfect chance because otherwise, it leaves you open.”

She mimics his thrust of the sword, imagining an opponent taking the attack in the gut where their armor would need to be either absent or weaker to allow for better maneuverability.

“Okay,” she says, stepping back into her starting position. “How about guarding?”

“Same basic idea. Read your opponent to see what direction he’s coming from.” He lifts his sword and brings it down, twisting at the last minute to strike his ‘opponent’ in the side. Jana, wanting to practice the concept, lifts her sword and blocks her right side where his sword would land if he were actually targeting her, but he shakes his head. “Don’t angle your sword down and put your hand where your fingers can be cut. Hold it higher, bringing your hand closer to your chest …. Yes, like that.”

He switches feet and takes a side step, feigning a slash from the left before swinging his sword around and moving to attack her leg on his right. She imitates a block, the angle awkward, but he nods to tell her she did it right and she makes sure to remember to fight the urge to correct the downward angle even if it’s slightly uncomfortable. Once she returns to the ready position, he strikes towards her head and she lifts her sword to ‘block,’ imagining the loud clash of swords if they were truly in battle.

“Very good,” he says, stepping back into a relaxed position. “Now, a thrust is different. When they come in for a thrust, you have to swipe it aside. You can’t block it, but you can divert it.” He shows her by mimicking a thrust and she waves her sword in a half-circle, imagining swiping it aside as she side steps. “Yes! Very good. Footwork is key too. Keep the fight moving just like with the shield. Try to catch them off guard. Then, when you block one of their attacks …” he says, motioning her to ‘strike’ and blocking before stepping aside and ‘swinging’ his sword back down on her while she’s open, “you quickly take advantage and counterattack.”

Jana huffs as they try it again, this time her counterattacking. He still manages to ‘block’ her, but he nods in approval before stepping up into the ready position again. She follows him, holding her sword and testing the feel of it in her hand to make sure she’s keeping with the correct hold and control as he instructed.

“Now, imagine you have a shield on the other arm,” he says, raising his empty hand, forearm up as if an imaginary shield were strapped to it. “You can now block with your shield, but you also have to make sure you move fast enough when you attack that you can get around your shield and still catch them off guard.”

She nods and holds up her free arm, closing her eyes a moment to visualize the shield. “That shield is pretty big, though …. It’s almost as tall as I am, Jon.”

He hums and she opens her eyes to see him standing straight, rubbing his chin with his free hand. “You’re right …. Good in practice, but it could slow you down in battle.” He thinks a moment before smiling. “I know what we’ll do. I used to fight with someone who used a much smaller shield. You’ll have to be more aware of blocking because it won’t give you enough cover alone and you’ll move a lot more around your opponent to keep on top of the fight, but I think it’ll suit you better.”

“Yeah?” She smiles and lowers her sword, standing up straighter. “You think we can find one when we get back to the Citadel?”

“I’m sure of it.” He nods. “For now, we’ll practice with what we have, but I’ll be sure to get you a buckler at the Citadel along with a better sword. This one is nice and all, but I’d like you to have one to call your own.” Shrugging, he smiles. “It just feels better when you go into battle with your weapons and armor. And we have one of those things for you.”

“And Jameson did a pretty damn good job on it, too. Takes some getting used to, but I trust it if he does.” She looks over the blade of her sword. “But yeah … I think I’d like that.”

He huffs and she looks up to see him grin and puff his chest a bit. “You’ll even get to be a part of picking it out too,” he says. “Most blacksmiths have weapons like that on hand that have different kinds of looks and feels, they just need to sharpen them up. We’ll find you a good place …. My Templar title is bound to get us access to some good shops. And if you don’t like your armor, you don’t have to be afraid to say so. We can get you a new set then too.”

“No, I’m good there. I actually like it.” She shrugs and sets the tip of her sword in the ground. “Maybe once I get used to fighting, I’ll move to something more solid like my old armor, but for now, I think what I have suits me just fine.”

“It’s mighty fine armor, don’t get me wrong …. I was just surprised because of, like you said, how your old armor was.” He pats her shoulder as he passes her, heading towards his tent. “Jameson did good. Gear like yours right now is perfect for your worries.”

“Oh wait,” Jana calls, turning to him to catch him before he made it too far back to his tent. “What about Tali? I know she has her suit, but do you think we could get something light like mine to put on top of hers? Not getting a tear is very serious, Jon. I can’t stress that enough and without her omni-tool working to give her shields, weapons here can easily get past the material of her suit.”

Jon frowns, stopping in his tracks. “Of course. We should have gotten her something sooner …. Had I known -”

She holds up a hand to stop him from beating himself up over it. “It’s not your fault or anything. Honestly, neither of us thought about it …. I guess we were so sure that she could get our tech working.”

“And she hasn’t yet?”

Jana shakes her head and he nods solemnly.

“I’ll look into getting something for her,” he says finally. “Quarian gear isn’t easy to come by, but like I said, being a Templar can get you things otherwise not available. I’ll see what I can do.” He raises a hand and turns back to his tent. “Sleep well, Jana. Keep the sword … and try not to stay up too late. We plan to leave as soon as day breaks.”

Jana nods at his back before lifting the sword and taking a long look at it. Taking a deep breath, she turns towards the dummy and walks over to it, raising the sword into position and adjusting her posture as Jon had shown her.

Chapter 12: Cipritine

Chapter Text

With the sky as black as pitch, they are led by the light of torches held in hand and the glow on the horizon. A sinking feeling tells Jana the glow they're approaching isn't made by turian hands, but she doesn't voice her fears, knowing the others feel it too.

The turians in their group spread and flick their wings like agitated beasts, terse and growling and snarling untranslated words at each other at any apparent slight. Theirlacertasseem on edge too as they swing their heads from side to side, tongues lashing at the air as a low rumble emanates from their bodies. The others feel it too, edgy and fidgeting in their saddles as their horses' occasionally let out an angry snort and pin their ears back, giving their rider a moment of difficulty as they seem to fight the command to keep going.

When their beacon of light grows as they draw nearer, they see flames on the horizon, a grand city engulfed by a raging inferno. Garrus makes a very turian sound of distress as he snarls and stands up in his saddle.

"Cipritine!" He shouts, pulling back hislacerta'sreins to keep it from thrashing beneath him, his wings opening to their full impressive size as he flares his mandibles to flash his sharp teeth. "We have to be there before they can destroy my home!"

"And run yourlacertato death?" Severus pulls his own mount back and narrows his eyes at his royal cousin, mandibles flicking viciously. "We'll never make it before they drop."

"Flocci non faccio, Severus! They are animals! Those are our people!" He jabs a finger towards Palaven but doesn't wait for a response, turning those fiery blue eyes on Jon. "Do what you must, but I won't wait while Cipritine burns."

Jon steels himself before looking over those of them in armor with weapons at hand before giving a firm nod. "You're right. There's no time to wait." Jerking his reins back, he spins his horse and trots it to those of their caravan met to tend to camp and the supplies. "Keep your distance. Don't push the horses. It isn't safe like this anyway …. Stay away from the fires!" he calls as he kicks his horse, turning it back towards Cipritine as he raises a hand to the others and yells, "We ride!"

"To Cipritine!" Garrus calls out, raising a fist and flapping his wings before he kicks his lacerta, giving it an untranslated command that urges it into a run.

More comfortable with riding, Jana kicksAlfi'ssides and jerks the reins, making a sharp shout to force the horse to follow the pack. The mare puffs out a heavy breath and pulls her ears back before breaking into a gallop alongside the others, hooves pounding the firm rock of the rising incline and trampling any vegetation underfoot. Jana leans forward and stands in the stirrups to keep from being bucked with each jostle of the horse's back, one hand on her saddle's pommel and the other gripping the reins.

Thelacertas, despite their less than agile looks, keep up with the horses. Garrus' even surpasses Jon's horse as it seems to slither along the ground. Its legs swing out with its body instead of propelling it from beneath like a horse, and its claws grip the rocks easier than the flat hooves of their horses, giving them the ability to climb outside of the noticeably trampled down path up the mountain.

Small hamlets, farms, and clusters of homes have been set to the flame, some still burning as the group gallops past. The acrid scent of smoke fills the air, sometimes clouding their vision as they dive through it as it billows from the still blazing rubble of Cipritine's neighboring settlements situated near the road.

This close, Jana can start to see the individual, towering structures of the capital city. The silhouettes of turians flying in the skies are barely visible amongst the smoke and flurry of ash as it swells up into a torrent, spreading like a heavy wave of destruction over the city. Other figures like distorted turians can be seen battling the Hierarchy soldiers, but Jana can't place them, a pit in her stomach at the realization that they may very well be the forms of turians corrupted by the Reapers' evil.

High above the city and barely visible through the smoke is a bright flame that's engulfed a massive castle, its towers jutting tall into the now deadly sky. It sits upon a rise in the ground like a smaller mountain peak, a path winding its way up along the spire of rock to its massive main gates.

Jana knows, without a doubt, that it's Garrus' home. How very apt for a winged species to put its ruler at the highest peak of its capital, but that very concept seems to have condemned the Vakarians to the brunt of the Reapers' attack.

Horses exhausted and struggling against their reins, they make it into the city before they start to slow, their hooves stomping the rich red stones now making up an official road into the capital. Jon and Garrus pull up their mounts at what looks like a small center square just within the gates, eyes gazing upon the destruction above.

"We have to get to the keep," Garrus says, voice weak with fear, but vocals wild with rage and impatience. "My family may be holding there."

"Could they have escaped to somewhere safer?" Jon asks, turning his horse in a circle to keep it calmer than the others who are hopping on their feet, throwing their heads and snorting at the thick smoke.

"Alok, Kulaan," a booming voice says, the sound of the seemingly a command vibrating the very ground and sending a chill through Jana's veins, startling their horses and mounts into neighing loudly, bucking in distress. "Motaad voth maar fah faal brii do yol!"

All look to the castle, following the dominating voice to its source as it now becomes visible through the smoke, and Jana's mouth falls open, eyes wide in shock - and truthfully, without a doubt,fear. She feels her hands tremble at the sight of a massive, black dragon perched upon the tallest tower of the keep, a red glow emanating between the plates along its serpentine neck and massive chest, shining deep in its throat as it opens its mouth to speak once more.

"Dir zohungaar fah hin jul zeim zofaas," it says again, rattling its tongue at the last syllable and it spreads its massive wings, blackening the sky as it stands back on its two feet gripping into the stone of the castle tower. It raises its head, horns - that look so much like the silhouette of her Reaper's own legs, its slender head similar to their bodies - crowning its head glistening from the dancing reflections of the flames surrounding it, and roars.

Jana fights not to cover her ears at the booming sound, memories of Sovereign and her realty's Reapers' unnatural roar flashing through her mind as she cringes. Her very bones feel the bass of the sound and her vision blurs, body reacting unconsciously to the sheer power in the sound.

"It's taunting me!" Garrus snarls, spreading his wings as if in responding threat to the massive dragon. "We have to get up there! Jon," he says, turning to his friend and flicking his mandibles pleadingly. "Please. My family could be up there."

Jon looks at Garrus for a long moment before lifting his eyes back to the dragon who seems to have turned its attention to a group of turians flying around it, snapping its massive jaws at them and catching at least three in its deadly maw. It's easily the size of a scouting ship from Jana's universe and those typically tended to be over three hundred feet long. She has no idea how they'll even stand a chance against it.

"We can't," Jon finally says, face stern in determination as he finally looks to Garrus, being drawn to the turian by Garrus' broken trill. "It's not safe to run right into its claws. It's clearly expecting you to. Itwantsto kill you, Garrus."

"But it could be up there killing my family!" Garrus swallows and glances back up to the Reaper, realization clear in his eyes that his family has no chance if they really are still up there.

Sidonis pulls hislacertaup to them. "The keep has tunnels out of it. Where do they come out?"

Garrus' mandibles flare at the implication before he quickly nods. "Yes! They would've taken the tunnels." Humming, his gaze moves around the area around them before he jerks his chin down a road. "This way!"

As they push their mounts as fast as they can go towards the street, the Reaper growls and calls out to them. "Nivahriin…" it says, almost disappointed. "Ruz dir vodahmin."

Suddenly, the air stills around them and Jon shouts to them to hurry just before Jana hears it,feelsit.

With a sudden, loud whoosh, the Reaper ignites the square they had just been in, flames shooting from its mouth as it follows them down the street. She can feel the heat from its breath against her back and clenches her jaw as slaps her reins once more and kicks with all her might, pleading the horse to move faster.

I know you're tired, butplease….

Fear seems to help push the horse forward as it merely throws its head and seems to regain enough strength to gallop faster. Jana knows the only reason they are barely outrunning the fire is all because of the Reaper's control, has no doubt that it's merely playing with them as it glides effortlessly over the city, engulfing it with its shadow. Before long, it decides to swing around and bring fire down on another section of the city, apparently deciding to leave them to their attempts to get to where the underground tunnels open up.

She only hopes that everyone's right, that Garrus' family could have made it out through the tunnels.

The deeper into the city they run, the more it seems to tilt. Though it seems smaller than should be expected of a capital city from the direction they had come from, she finds that much of the city is actually built into the side of a cliff they've been at the top of this entire time. Streets wind around buildings seeming to defy gravity as if planted firmly into the side of the jagged rock, each steep road taking them deeper, and lower into Cipritine towards where it drops into the ocean with very little warning.

No Reaper forces seem to be attracted to them just yet, but Jana can hear the screeches and sounds of wounded soldiers as they fight in the skies above. The closer they get to the water, the more they have to slow their mounts to navigate through the growing throng of people trying to escape the city. She figures they must be headed for the water, for docks that have to logically be there, but knows that, for many, this is just as much a death sentence as flying in the skies above the city.

When they do come within sight of the docks that are, in fact there though swarming with people trying desperately to get boarded on the ships, Garrus brings them to a rough halt and looks up towards a squared tower overlooking the area.

"That's where they'll be if … if they made it out -"

"They did," Jon interrupts, trying to - along with everyone else - keep his horse from getting too worked up by the crowds pressing along on all sides and jostling them. "Get up there and get them. We don't have much time. Everyone else, make a circle and give him some room."

The group press their mounts around Garrus'lacerta, creating a small perimeter to keep the panicked crowds from stirring it up any more once its rider leaves to quickly gather his family. Garrus nods to Jon, rumbling gratefully as he hands his reins over to Mierin.

Stepping out of the stirrups and up onto the saddle's seat, Garrus spreads his large wings, bends his knees slightly, and kicks off thelacerta'sback. The animal doesn't seem to notice, perhaps used to the action from its rider and Jana looks up as Garrus flaps his large wings to get to a balcony overlooking the street a good thirty feet above. The crowd doesn't even seem to notice as he lands on the stone railing of it, hops down, and shoves the door open with his shoulder.

"Is this the only guard tower overlooking the Apien?" Jon asks Sidonis, but it's Severus who answers, scoffing with his vocals.

"You think we'd only haveonesource of defense against the shore? This isn't even the main tower, but a diversion should any of our enemies find out that one of the tunnels' outlets is a guard tower at the Apien." He looks at passing citizens with an almost kind of disdain, using his wings to outstretch and force a bit of space between him and them as they rush past. "He better hurry before we're overrun."

Jana hasn't lowered her eyes from the balcony but has to admit she agrees with Severus this one time as she bites her lip and silently bids Garrus to hurry, but also be successful in finding his family. Relief washes over her when she sees the heavy wooden door swing inward with a jerk and Garrus reappear with someone in tow.

A shameful thickness settles in her throat when she sees that it's a female turian, dressed in an elegant red dress covered by a hooded cloak. She knows it's not his sister with the way he wraps his arm around her carapace and curls his wing around her as if to shield her from attention. Jana knows she shouldn't feel anything for the fact that he's been worried of a woman apparently very close and important to him, but she can't deny the flutter of something like jealousy take root in her chest.

This isnotthe time, Jana. Keep your head straight!

She shakes the thoughts, the shameful feeling of disappointment, from her head as Garrus steps up onto the railing and drops off, female held in his arm as he uses his wings to slow their descent. He settles her on the flatter back end of his saddle before reclaiming his place in the stirrups. The woman, face still shadowed by her hood, grips onto him as he motions towards the coast with his chin.

"My father's on Menae …. Solana isn't here. She'd been sent to Invictus before the Reaper attacked to gather forces …." He pushes hislacertathrough the circle of the group, forcing his way through the crowd. "There's troubling word coming from the island," he says cryptically, humming in agitation.

Though they can't run their horses for fear of trampling innocent turians, they can hurry along the crowds with the sheer size of their mounts and with the turians of the group paving the way with their wings spread slightly to allow the horses to trot behind them with two side by side.

"How will we get across the Apien Sea?" Jameson says, grunting when his horse jerks its head at a frightened citizen flaring her wings too close.

"There's bound to be military ships taking soldiers back and forth across the sea. We might have to fight to get to them, but they won't deny an order from the Atheling to embark immediately even if they aren't fully boarded," Sidonis says, rumbling in thought. "Though we could go ahead and pave the way if you give the word, Garrus."

"No," he says, shaking his head as he kicks hislacertato move faster. "We stay together. If it means we have to be more forceful with the crowd, then we do what we have to."

"I won't just hurt innocent, scared people, Garrus." Jon pulls his horse as close to Garrus as he can. "These people just want to survive."

"Jon," Garrus pulls in a wing so he can turn in his saddle to look to Jon. "The Normandy is at Menae …. That's why my father's there." He nods at Jon's surprised look, not glancing at the others in the group to see their shared shock. "He expects we're aboard, ready to take him to safety for his war summit."

Jon's features turn stoney as his jaw twitches from clenched teeth. "Then we try to get there in time to ensure he isn't holding off at the Normandy without aid."

"And we find out why it's even here in the first place," Liara adds, uncertainty written all over her face.

Nodding, Jon doesn't speak as he jerks his head for Garrus to keep going and, though Jana knows it has to be impossible, they seem to be able to be making their way through the dense populace a bit faster, their urgency pushing them forward to the docks.

They find that the docks are mostly dominated by soldiers lining up to get onto the ships to join the others already out at sea and in the sky protecting ships crossing the water to the towering cliffs of the island of Menae. Very few are allowing citizens on, leaving the task mostly to the privately-owned ships, merchant vessels, and opulent boats of higher tiered turians. For the most part, order seems to have been brought to the docks themselves, but there's still a blanket of fear and anxiety over them. It's all very suiting for the turians Jana knows, even if she's disappointed to see that there's still no way to both save noncombatants and get soldiers to the battlefield.

Garrus and his Praetorians push their way through the throng of people towards a ship that seems most ready to set off for Menae. It's a smaller ship, but if Jana's learned from the Normandy, small may sometimes mean fast in terms of military vessels, this emblazoned with the bold word 'Resolute' along the side of its hull. Fast is definitely what they need and, with hope, the smaller size will go mostly unnoticed by the Reaper forces.

"Captain," Garrus calls as he approaches a turian, pulling up hislacertaas he flares his mandibles in surprise. "General Corinthus?"

The dark bronze-colored man in heavy silver armor the likes of which all the soldiers seem to be wearing some kind of version of turns away from a gathering of soldiers overlooking a map spread out across a crate beside the Resolute's gangplank and dips his head, bringing his curled hand to his chest in salute. "Atheling Garrus. I didn't expect you here. The Normandy -"

"The Normandy wasn't sent by Templar Shepard," Garrus says, motioning Jon. "We came from Taetrus. We don't even know if the Normandy actually is at port."

"Well, word is it's docked on the northern shore of the island, just outside of the reach of the war … for the moment." He waves a soldier towards another ship, getting a firm nod of affirmation before the young turian runs off. "I've taken to the docks to try and organize any efforts to get men to the island and citizens out of Cipritine. Those aremymen up there in the skies," he says with a slight growl, pointing up towards the darkened skies above the crashing Apien Sea where they can see the silhouettes and forms of turians fighting valiantly against something too distorted in shape to be another turian. "Demons are carrying in other Corrupted and dropping them onto the ships from Menae. It seems what's here in Cipritine is merely meant as a distraction, as a way to clear the streets while the real forces have focused in on Menae."

"Is there a chance they know your father's there?" Jon asks, concern in his eyes though he looks just as assured of their plan as Garrus.

"They definitely know something," Garrus agrees with a nod before turning to the General. "We need to get to Menae. I don't care if the ships aren't ready. If they're after my father, then weneedto be on the island."

Corinthus hums in his throat, but nods at that. "The Resolute can embark across the Sea as soon as you're ready. But the trip won't be smooth. You might have a battle of your own getting there."

"We can handle it," Garrus says with a growl, motioning with his hand for his Praetorians to board, but holds a hand up to stop Severus. "I need you to go back to Jon's caravan -" He jerks his hand flat to cut off any protest, glaring at the other turian. "Get them to circle around Cipritine and head north along the coast. We'll have to find another place to meet back with them. Cipritine isn't safe."

"I'm not a messenger,Atheling-"

"Ne contemptum!" Garrus jabs a finger towards his cousin. "Don't question my orders,Praetorian," he sneers, giving Severus the same dismissive growl at his title. "Relay my message to Jon's men and, if you're so willing to get into the fight, find whatever's left of your Vigiles andfight. Their lives will be on your hands - you want to command so damned much."

"Garrus," his female companion says softly, laying a light golden hand on his arm. "We must go."

Jon wordlessly motions for Liara, Jameson, and Jana to get their horses onto the ship as he follows behind them. Jana still catches a snarled, perceived threat towards Severus before Garrus leads hislacertaup the gangplank and onto the Resolute.

"General," Garrus says as he spins hislacertaonce in the ship's hold. "Send a raven if you can -"

Garrus' voice stills when a massive shadow blankets the docks, throwing the crowds into a flurry of panic as the Reaper flies overhead, wings slicing through the smoke. "Ru Kulaan. Zu fen du fod mu grind til sinon," its roars as it swoops down over the docks, setting a large civilian boot aflame as it passes, large wings giving a mighty swing as it rises back into the sky.

"Irrumator," Garrus hisses as the deckhands quickly work to draw up the gangplanks, the Resolute already pushing off the docks before its hull is even completely sealed.

Jumping from his exhausted, sweaty horse, Jon hands the reins to a crew member of the ship to pull the animal aside and out of the way of the many soldiers and deckhands rushing about the ship. "We should make our way to the top deck," he says as he comes and offers a hand to Garrus' female companion, giving a soft, polite bow of his head.

"Thank you, Templar," she purrs in a soothing, yet soft voice, taking his hand in hers and swinging her leg over thelactera'sback to step off. She shakes her wings off a moment before nodding and turning to Garrus. "I can find the Captain, help him devise the best way to approach the island."

Garrus dips his head, thrumming as he closes his eyes. "Yes, mother. It's best you help, perhaps see if they have ravens to send out to Menae … possibly the mainland and on its way to Invictus to warn Solana."

Mother …. She's his mother. I never met his mother, never got to know her because of her illness …. And my stupid self is worried that he has a mate.

Jana catches herself staring at Garrus' mother for a moment before shaking her head and finally climbing off ofAlfi. She rubs the horse's neck in silent thanks for the steadiness in the face of the terrors in Cipritine as well as in apology for having to push her so hard. She knows they'll only have to push their mounts hard once more once they get to Menae if they're to make it to Garrus' father in time before the Reaper finds him or he's overrun by its forces.

Chapter 13: Menae

Chapter Text

All hell has broken loose by the time Jana makes it up to the top deck, sword and shield in hand.

The ship has been thrown into a state of chaos as deckhands try to get the ship moving across the raging Apien Sea that thrashes the hull and sends tall sprays of salty water into her eyes. Soldiers aren’t given pause as they storm the upper decks and take to the skies to defend the Resolute from the twisted forms of Reaperized turians.

Just as Jana thinks she and the others will be useless in this fight, the things that General Corinthus called ‘Demons’ reveal themselves to Jana and the others as a group of them dives down to attack the ship itself. She freezes as their wings throw smoke at them as they flap to land on the decks, unsure what she’s seeing has ever been turian.

Bodies twisted and mutated beyond noticeable recognition, the Demons have the wings and upper bodies of turians still wearing scraps of armor and clothing, but jagged spines cover their bodies, very prominent where turians have natural rises in their plates on their forearms just below their elbows and slicing through their natural carapace on their back along their spines. Their wings have extended along their sides, connecting to where their legs have been twisted and fused into an elongated, deadly tail with a large, sharp barb on the end. Talons have turned to claws, long and deadly and their mandibles seem to have fallen off to give room for their frightening fangs, already intimidating teeth turned into the mouth of a monster.

“Oh, God,” she whispers as she steps back from one landing on the railing of the deck, perched on its hands as it hisses and spreads its wings.

It’s only a distraction, they soon realize, as more swoop by and drop flightless beasts onto the deck.

More Corrupted ….

She can barely recognize the original species of the small pack of creatures snapping their sharp, jagged teeth and growling at them. They crawl on all fours, their legs distorted to claws, and back arched beneath tatters that can’t even be considered clothing anymore. Saliva drips from needle-sharp teeth as they snarl, their faces twisting into monstrous, failed attempts at looking anything like a human. Their eyes are dead and flesh just starting to rot, showing that some have enough changed enough that spines jut from their backs.

“Don’t let the Ghouls bite you,” Jameson shouts aside to her as Liara throws a protective spell around them. “Even if you kill it, you’ll still be afflicted with its poison.”

“Protect the crew!” Jon calls, lifting his sword as he takes quick steps towards the creatures, spurring them to charge forward.

Jana glances to Tali and gives her a nod towards a wall of some kind of cabin on the deck. “I’ll defend you. Try to see if you can get those Demon bastards from attacking the others from above.”

Tali nods and pulls a crossbow bolt from the quiver on her hip and rushes to the cover, Jana right behind her. She starts to load her crossbow, nocking the bolt as Jana shakes out her sword hand.

She knows she can’t go into the middle of the battle with the huge shield she and Jon both agreed is much too cumbersome for her, but she can defend her friend. The size of the shield will come in handy here, where it’s just her and Tali backed up against a wall and trying to take down Reaper forces from the sidelines.

Just as a Ghoul seems to have caught on to their plan, Jana sees something fall from the sky and land hard on the deck. It’s definitely not turian and she has a feeling there weren’t any other species in Cipritine when the Reaper attacked willing to board a boat to fight so that only leaves the possibility of another Corrupted creature. She gives Tali a glance and motions her head to shoot the incoming Ghoul as Jana prepares to slash at whichever of the creatures reaches them first, the human Corrupted or this new one that’s climbing to its feet.

Though humanoid in shape, there is no way Jana can tell what the rotted Corrupted beast once was. What little flesh remains is stretched thin over swelling tissue and sinewy muscles. It’s too bloated from decay to be recognizable, but the axe in its hand definitely is and Jana knows she’s going to have to take it down before the Ghoul gets to them to add more difficulty. They’re not in the best position with their backs against a wall, but it’s the only way to keep attacks from behind out of the picture.

“Focus on the Ghoul,” she tells Tali, not taking her eyes from the bloated monster. “I’ll work on that thing.”

Jana bends her knees and uses the shield as cover, letting it settle on the deck so she can pivot it in an attack’s direction without having to tire her arm with carrying it.

The beast screams out a garbled shriek as it charges, gnashing its many, needle-like teeth.

Batarian …. That thing must be batarian ….

The decay must make the corrupted monster slow as it swings its axe but Jana angles the shield to take the blow. Stepping forward, she pivots the shield to throw the weight of the blow aside, stumbling the creature. She slashes with her sword, the tip of her blade slicing through the bulbous flesh of its torso with a sickening squelch as black, fetid blood pours down its front.

The axe falls to the ground as the beast moves to use teeth and fingers decayed to the bone instead. It hisses and charges, giving Jana no other option than to drop the shield so she can quickly sidestep, parrying the attack with a swing of her sword upwards from its hip up along its side.

More brackish blood falls to the wet deck and she pays careful attention not to step in it as she rounds the creature. Grabbing the handle of her sword with both hands, she yells out as she slings the sword into a downward blow, bringing it down on the monstrous batarian with all her might. Most definitely slowed by the decay taking over its form, the creature doesn’t move fast enough to avoid the blow, its heads making a sickening sound as her blade cuts through the swollen flesh and into the bone of its skull.

The sound is so clear that Jana can’t help the slight cringe as the beast falls to the ground with a thud, but she can’t hesitate as she rushes back over to Tali to help act as a guard with the large shield.

“Jana, look!” Tali shouts, pointing upward just before Jana can make it over.

Jana stumbles to a stop as a body falls to the deck with a loud crash. Its massive wings don’t seem to have been able to catch it as one trembles, deep gouges taken out of the flesh and rendering it useless. She prepares herself to fight a corrupted turian when the form shifts but breathes a sigh of relief when it can stand on legs the corrupted seem to lack. She can’t tell who it is or if she can recognize them by the closed helmet, but she gives them a firm nod when they look to her.

Keep fighting. Don’t give up …. Even if they’ve taken your wings ….

She knows the turian is down a means of fighting with their now crippled wing, but they don’t falter as they return her nod, bend down to grab their sword, and trade places with her to join the battle from here on the deck of the Resolute.

Rain pours down in torrents as the Resolute pulls to the docks of Menae, urgency forcing members of the crew to fly to the slick docks with the heavy ropes to tie down before the ship’s anchor chain comes to a complete, jarring stop. A handful of turian soldiers from the skies above drop to the deck to clear it of wingless Corrupt alongside Jon and the others, either with their weapons or by simply grabbing the creatures to fly up and drop them into the depths of the thrashing sea.

“Let’s go,” Jana yells to Tali, kicking one of the Corrupt on all fours away before stabbing her sword into its back.

Tali quickly nods and sends one last bolt into a bloated Corrupt before chasing after Jana across the slick deck. Jon looks to them and gives a firm nod before turning to Liara and Jameson, jostling Jameson’s shoulder as he shouts at them to start moving. Giving a final backward glance at Jana and Tali, Jon doesn’t bother to sheath his sword or shield as he runs behind the others towards the stairs that’ll take them down to their horses.

Jana lets Tali go first so that she can watch their six and protect her friend if any Corrupt manages to break away from the battle with the turians fighting on the deck amongst the deckhands. She hasn’t had the chance to sheath her own weapon or shield, but she doesn’t want to get separated from the others in the fray. Between the blinding rain and salty sting of waves breaking over the deck and the turmoil of clanging weapons and snarling beasts, Jana is sure that she’ll be lost if she gives even a moment to distraction instead of keeping her eyes on the bright purple of Tali’s suit.

With crew rushing up the steps as they push to take them down, the group must split up into a single file, holding themselves close to avoid disrupting the crew and soldiers as they hurry to empty the Resolute of warriors so it can return to Cipritine to repeat the cycle. Because of that, there’s a moment where Jana can sling the heavy shield’s strap over her head and shoulder, knowing that keeping it at her side is only going to take up more space and possibly get her pushed off the stairway cutting through the decks.

Tali makes it to the slick stairs, but Jana is stopped from keeping close as a cluster of turians erupts from the lower deck like a wave of their own. She barely manages to turn aside to give them room, trying to present less of a barricade since she can’t get completely out of the way because she knows that if she doesn’t stand firm, she’ll be unintentionally pushed back and further away from catching up with the others.

The shifting of her body turns out to be a saving one as she just barely catches a rotted corpse rushing across the roof of a cabin on the top deck and near the stairway. It leaps from its perch just as the flow of men and women rushing along the steps clears and she catches the heavy swing from its sword with her own, but just barely. Though she knew gravity’s pull on its body towards the deck would add to the force of its swing, she isn’t fully prepared for the blow with only her sword as her defense and she stumbles, back foot slipping on the slick deck.

This is it ….

The killing blow doesn’t come, though. Quickly looking up to the creature’s bloated, disfigured face, Jana lifts her sword to strike but is completely stunned when - without warning - the thing coughs a mouthful of black, brackish blood on her. She just has enough time to step out of the way as it collapses, gagging at the smell of the half clotted blood on her face as she finds a dagger jutting from the back of its deformed head.

“Come on,” a voice says, breaking her from her shock, and she looks up to see Garrus’ mother, the majority of her face still shadowed by her hood. “We have to go or we’ll never get off this ship.”

“Yeah …. Yeah,” Jana agrees just as a shadow covers her and the turian woman right before Garrus lands with a heavy thud on the roof the Corrupted corpse had just lept from.

He flares his mandibles at the sight of the beast at Jana’s feet before jerking his head for Jana towards the steps. “Go. I’ll get my mother to shore while you catch up with the others. Get our lacertas off the ship too. We’ll move faster that way,” he shouts as he drops down from the roof, putting his bow back into place over his shoulder and wrapping a wing around his mother’s smaller form. “Don’t wait up for us at the docks if we aren’t there yet. We can meet up at the encampment they’ll have set up,” he adds as he points up to the rise of a hill just beyond the crowded, hectic docks with one hand as he wraps his other around his mother. “If I'm right on who's up there, just follow the flames.”

Jana’s mouth opens at the cryptic instruction, sure that flames aren’t a good sign after seeing the massive dragon flying over them and towards this island, but she can’t speak before Garrus spreads his wings. He kicks up off the ground and catches himself with a powerful sweeping motion of his massive wings, flying upwards with his mother tucked against his side as he heads for the shore amidst the chaos of battle in the skies.

Sheathing her sword, Jana shoulders her way through the much bigger turians on the stairs, not wanting to be left behind or the cause of wasting time if the others waited for her. She makes it to the hold just in time to find the others gathering up their horses, their weapons stowed away on their person or astride their saddles. Jon gives her a nod as she approaches, handing over Alfi’s reins.

“Garrus says to bring out their lacertas, but not to wait up for them,” she says as she lays a hopefully calming hand on the flat of the agitated horse’s snout. “He said ‘follow the flames’ and that’s where they’ll meet up with us … whatever that means.”

“He probably means the encampment for the turian forces that’ll be nearby.” Jon waves a hand to catch a crewman’s attention before pointing to the three lacertas. “We’ll need those too,” he says before looking back to Jana. “Is his mother with him or still on the ship? Do we need to find a way to safely get her onto Menae?”

Jana shakes her head, pulling the reluctant horse as she follows close to Jon’s side. It seems like Alfi can sense the turmoil outside and Jana can’t blame the poor thing for wanting to avoid going back out there after the hell they’ve already put their mounts through getting to and inside of Cipritine. Even from the limited view outside of the lowered gangplanks is enough to make any lesser man pause at the fires billowing, clashing of metal, and beastly snarls and roars.

“Garrus has his mother at his side. I guess we just have to trust him if he thinks it’s better taking her by air,” she says, wiping the sweat from her brow as their group narrows so they can walk the gangplanks with enough room left for the turian soldiers to come and go. “She may have just saved my life up there …. At least it feels like it.”

Jon hums and gives her a forced smile, though the fight still remains bright in his eyes and in the way his body still seems prime for any attack. “She’s strong … but - and don’t let him hear this - she also needs our help. She’s not a warrior anymore, so we’ll need to watch after her while we’ll most likely need to fight our way across Menae.”

Jana doesn’t ask for more than that, sure that Garrus doesn’t want any family matters spread to a person that barely passes as an acquaintance. She also knows Jon well enough to realize that even what little he did tell her was more than he’d usually say and she’s grateful for even the slightest bit of preemptive warning in this kind of situation.

It’s not like she’s going to go spreading it about, gossiping like it’s some dirty secret, but she appreciates knowing that Garrus’ mother will need some backup if it comes to it. Jana’s happy to give it to the woman who most definitely saved Jana grievous injury - if not death - on the Resolute when she stabbed the Corrupted just before it took advantage of Jana’s failed defense. Plus, a part of Jana can’t help but imagine she’d do the same for her own husband and his mother had circ*mstances been different.

She never got to know about Garrus’ mother, only found out about her through Shadow Broker files after his death and the realization that he was hurting too much to confide in her still stings. She may not have been able to do anything but offer comfort and supportive words, but finding a piece of his life once she’d lost him hurt more than any gunshot wound.

The docks seem more organized as soldiers file out of the ships and either into the fray in Menae’s skies or rush towards the encampment Jana can just barely see on the top of the ground’s steady incline. A sense of distress and fear still permeate the air, however, and Jana can get a good look at faces from atop Alfi’s back. She sees a determination, a burning desire to protect their home, but also an uncertainty blanketing the younger turians.

This could be the very first, major war they’ve ever been in … and it’s just the beginning.

Forcing her eyes away from the young soldiers that push forward and upward despite their hesitance - true turians in their devotion to serving the greater good even in the face of fear - Jana catches Garrus and his Praetorians land just past the docks. They are within the guarded space below fighting from above and that on the land beyond the cluster of soldiers and Jon points to them from atop his horse, calling out to the crew guiding the lacertas to hand over the creatures’ reins.

Jana takes the lead of what she thinks is Sidonis’ brownish-gray mount and follows the others, using Alfi’s broad chest and size to push through the crowd behind Jon and the others. As the crowd fans out into the battlefield, Mierin catches sight of them and gets Garrus’ attention, waiting for him to let loose an arrow into a passing Demon before motioning their incoming mounts. He jerks his head towards Jana and the others as he and Lantar hold off any Corrupted whose attention they’ve caught.

Mierin shoulders some of Garrus’ mother’s weight, helping her along to meet the others as they approach. Helping the royal queen onto Garrus’ mount, Mierin then quickly climbs into her own lacerta’s saddle. Only then does Garrus and Lantar fall back from the fight to get to the group.

“How does the field look?” Jon asks as Garrus climbs into his saddle, knowing that the turians have a better look at what lies ahead from their earlier vantage in the air.

“Lantar and Mierin will take the front, I’ll follow,” Garrus says with a motion towards the top of the rise. “My father will have left someone he trusts to hold the first line. They’ll know more about the situation with the Normandy’s arrival.”

Jon nods in understanding, waving the others to follow as they urge their mounts into a brisk pace. They can’t gallop outright with the battle around them, sure not to topple over any turian soldiers fighting the flightless Corrupt on the ground, but they’re fast enough that any tails that may try to snap at their horses’ feet are diverted into battle with more stationary targets. Jana is still grateful Garrus and his Praetorians are clearing the way with Mierin’s magic throwing any obstacles back and Lantar slashing any Corrupt he passes, leaving any airborne Corrupt to Garrus’ bow. Breaking through the thicket of battle helps the group keep their mounts moving and safe from any attack in passing as they run towards the encampment.

There are fewer beasts breaking through the battle at the docks’ immediate vicinity and rushing up the incline to overcome the few soldiers left to guard the approach. It seems almost as if an entire battle had already taken place and left the earth charred and strewn with the twisted bodies of the Reapers’ Corrupted. Jana can’t believe the dragon would have been responsible, not with nearly all the bodies belonging to its army, but she’s at a loss of what could be so powerful to clear large expanses of ground with a scorching blanket of fire.

All she knows is that the turians fighting any breakthrough attackers and even Garrus himself doesn’t seem to be as concerned by the sight as she is. It’s almost as if they expected or at least were prepared for it.

The encampment’s situated within a well-maintained fort, its walls tall around the central grounds where soldiers have thrown up tents for various facilities not immediately provided by the fort itself in such a sudden war. Commanding officers give orders from some of the larger tents, not having bothered to enter the protection of the fort’s towers in the urgency of the Reaper’s attack. Injured are carried into the towers instead, kept safe from the battle. Jana’s sure that doctors and the like are scrambling within the walls, trying to save any turian they can or - from the looks of some of the injured, no longer combatant soldiers in the fort - get them to a state where they can still be of some other use.

“You, soldier!” Garrus grabs the attention of a soldier missing an arm hurrying past with a spread of his wings and thundering of his vocals.

Upon seeing the Atheling, the man stands at the best of attention he can without an arm to give the turian salute Jana’s seen others do.

Garrus jerks his hand to wave away the man’s quick change in posture. “Who’s the General in charge here?” he demands, glancing around the encampment.

“General Malolin, Atheling,” the man snaps, turning sideways and pointing towards a wall divided by a tall guard tower at its midpoint with a much smaller entry where Jana can just barely glimpse the sight of battle through. “He took some of his cabal to clear the southern wall of any approach.”

Garrus nods, climbing from his lacerta. “See to my mother,” he orders as he hands over the reins with one hand and offers the other to his mother to climb off of Vidal’s back.

“I can assist your commanding officer,” she says, brushing off her dress as she takes the reins from Garrus’ hand. “Go, now. Find the General and get back here quickly.”

Garrus dips his head to his mother’s command before waving the others to dismount. Jana, better at it than a mere handful of days before, hops from Alfi’s back and lets another soldier the one-armed turian had waved over take her reins. The others do the same, handing over their mounts to be taken out of the direct way of bustling soldiers rushing through the fort on their own orders.

Garrus merely gives them a nod before turning towards the small archway leading out onto the southern battlefield and leads the way, not bothering to holster his bow as Jon jogs to his side, leaving the two Praetorians to directly follow on their sides with Jana and the others bringing up the rear. Jon unsheathes his sword in anticipation, acting as a silent direction for the others to draw their weapons as they pass beneath the thick stone archway, soldiers at the ready giving a stiff, but quick salute as the group passes before turning their attention back to the skies above and field just past the fort’s walls.

The battle is much more controlled on this far end of the fort, the Corrupt not yet gaining enough ground to encircle the fort - apparently thanks to General Malolin’s steadfast hold on the whole of its perimeter. There is a much smaller number of turian soldiers holding this approach, but Jana can see by the bright flashes of magic amongst the glimmer of blades in the sky that these cabal soldiers the one-armed soldier mentioned are in fact the reason the southern gate hasn’t been overrun.

It isn’t the sight of the cabal forces battling in the sky that catches her eye or sends a wave of awe through her quite like the sight of a single turian hovering lower to the ground, attention on the ground forces sprinting down the field. From the look of their armor that looks straight from a fantasy of dragons much like the spiked, intimidating ones of Garrus’ Praetorians, Jana can only imagine this turian is, in fact, a Praetorian themselves.

No one else seems to be able to wear that kind of armor except for the elite force directly responsible for the royal family’s safety. Their heavy hood hides their head and gender, but she doesn’t need to see their face to know they’re someone to take notice of because no average soldier could stand before a small army with nothing but their empty fists, not a single weapon on their person that she can see.

Are they a mage? Without a staff? Is that possible?

She realizes quickly that it is, indeed, very possible when the Praetorian crosses their arms, fingers curled into open fists that ignite with a blinding light. Flames lick along their forearms, fanning within the enclosed space of their slightly curled wings.

With a powerful, sudden spread of their wings, arms snapping out and to their sides, an inferno roars to life from their body to blanket the Corrupt. The Reaper forces ignite before the Praetorian, many dying before their bodies can completely stop running and thus grinding to a mass of charred bodies at the mage’s feet. The other soldiers quickly dive down on what few Corrupt remain, slaughtering the weakened beasts before they can regroup from their injuries.

“Keelah,” Tali whispers at the destruction and the Praetorian turns their head to the sound, the fire glowing in their eyes shadowed by the deep hood dimming as the last vestiges of their magic dissipates.

With a last look over the field, the Praetorian comes to them, landing with levity even in such imposing armor that still manages to surprise Jana even after seeing it so many times with Lantar and Mierin. He dips his head and gives the open fisted salute to Garrus before rumbling and addressing them properly.

“Atheling,” the turian - a male whose scarlet mandibles are just barely visible from beneath the hood - says with a quick glance at the rest of the party, “I hadn’t expected you to be here. Your father took to the north in search of the Normandy.”

“I know,” Garrus growls and balls his free hand into a fist before relaxing it. “The Normandy wasn’t sent here on Templar Shepard’s orders,” he says with a motion to Jon before he lets out a long breath. “Tassius,” he continues, dropping the formality with the apparently close Praetorian, “I need to know. What must the state of the northern shore be?”

The Praetorian hums with a slight flick of his mandible. “If the Corrupt are arriving at Menae from this shore alone, then there’s a larger chance your father is holding at or near the Normandy.” He stiffens his back, lifting his chin as his wings tuck themselves neatly against his back. “I’ve stayed behind to keep any ambush attempts at bay.”

“And for that, we thank you,” Jon says with a nod, sheathing his sword. “After all you and your men have been doing here, General, we’ll be able to ride to the Normandy much faster than we would should we have had to fight the entire way.”

The General is quiet a moment as he seems to study Jon before he finally hums low. “I can’t guarantee Corrupt haven’t made their way inland through other means. The blackened skies and numerous Corrupt have made it hard to gauge if any Demons have flown further up the shoreline instead of directly attacking the ships or Fort Constinatum. Your father may be dealing with his own battles.”

Garrus frowns beneath his own hood and pulls his mandibles tight to his jaw. “How many men had he taken in his entourage? How many Praetorians?”

General Malolin is quiet for a long moment, seemingly debating on whether or not to tell his true opinion or not. Jana has a feeling that the close relationship the two seem to have is what makes him finally admit, “Too few. It’s been days since he left and we’ve received no word of his arrival, departure, or attempt to retreat back to Fort Constinatum.”

That hits Garrus hard as he looks away, but Jon lays a hand on his shoulder and the action seems to steel Garrus’ nerves enough to address the General once more. “Join us, Tassius,” he says with a deep rumble before jerking his head to the cabal clearing the last of the Corrupt in the field and sky. “Take some men, leave the others, and join us to the northern shore.”

“Garrus, there needs to be a General here to see that this fort is not overrun. If we lose Constinatum, we lose any opportunity to approach Menae by its shore.” He quiets a moment before stepping closer and laying a hand on Garrus’ shoulder. “I will send some of my men to escort you some of the way. At least out of the immediate reaches of the Corrupt coming across the sea with the ships. But other than that, I need my men.” Rumbling, Tassius flares his mandibles slightly. “And you know a smaller group is less likely to attract attention.”

Garrus huffs slightly. “You would know …. You’re the one who said it.”

“He’s right,” Jon agrees, turning to the others with a motion to the fort. “We should hurry. I don’t like the idea of the Primarch waiting in the north because of a miscommunication with the Normandy.”

“You’re right,” Garrus agrees with a rumble, giving the General a last look. “Taetrus hasn’t been affected by the war yet.”

Humming, Tassius dips his head as if in thanks for whatever that cryptic message may mean. “Your father had already given me leave to send a handful of my men to see to it. They can hold the city better than the Taetrian guard alone while they’re there.”

Garrus rumbles with a single flick of a mandible before nodding. “Don’t get yourself killed, Patruus. Hold here, but be ready for an even bigger battle.” He glances at Jon and Jon nods with a stern expression before he turns back to the General and says, “We plan to build an army of more than just turians and humans to fight the Irrumators.”

“You know I’m always at the service of the crown. Et requiem tibi spiritibus,” Tassius says with a final salute against his chest.

Chapter 14: Primarch Castis Vakarian

Chapter Text

Unfortunately, the Praetorian General’s suspicions prove correct when they find that Corrupt have begun to attack further along the coastline of Menae. While not close to the same numbers as those attacking Fort Constinatum, it’s enough for Jon to call for a change of approach towards the northern shore where - they hope - the Primarch is holding up at the docked Normandy.

Diverting the party away from the shoreline and further inland adds time they know they don’t necessarily have to their already hurried trek, but there’s an unsaid understanding among them all that there’s a war raging at the breadth of the Apien Sea at their side, creeping up the coast slowly but steadily. Riding ‘as the crow flies,’ they all know, will only catch them in skirmishes with however many packs of Corrupt that have managed to land at the coast and they have neither the time nor energy to waste when they have no idea of what lies in wait at the docks on the northern shore of the island.

Even as they hug the very base of the steep slopes of Menae’s inland cliffs, they find themselves running from stray Corrupt that have stolen inward. There are smaller forts and encampments of soldiers all along the roads that are as prepared for the fast approaching enemy as they can be. They do their best to cut the Corrupt off before they can attack the group racing across the island, but there are still some instances where the party has to stop to fight off their pursuers.

Jana isn’t sure where they’d be if Jon and Garrus hadn’t convinced General Malolin to send some of his men with them to guard the party because with the extra turians in their group, they’ve more often than not been able to split off to distract their pursuers while those needed at the Normandy can push their poor mounts ever harder, the soldiers catching up only when the party has no choice but to stop for rest before they kill the exhausted animals.

Jana feels for Garrus who’s practically seething with pent up anger, frustration, and panic, but there’s little she or anyone else can do. His mother does her best to soothe him with a calming confidence that almost radiates off her in physical waves, but it’s obvious even she has her doubts about their situation. They’re already so behind the Primarch in reaching the northern shore and they lack the unnatural capabilities to push themselves beyond what Jana would think physically possible like the Corrupt can, leaving them victims to exhaustion and basic needs like sleep, food, and water.

Though not as bright as the Cipritine’s glow, a light begins to shine on the horizon like a beacon against the pitch-black of the sky and pouring rain. Seeing it seems to give the group an even greater sense of urgency and they kick their mounts into an unforgiving, brutal pace as they rush towards what has to be the northern coast where Garrus’ father waits.

“There!” Garrus calls out, pointing to the sky where the silhouette soars across the sky above, the lightning that flashes in the clouds illuminating it as a larger sized bird. “That has to be Indignitus ! We’re close!”

Jana looks to the bird in the sky and hears a long, shrill cry. Her gaze drops to the sound’s source and finds Garrus’ mother perched higher on Vidal’s back, her arm out as if calling to the bird above. She makes another high pitched call and Jana’s stunned to see when Indignitus actually responds, circling the group as it flies towards them. Jana realizes Garrus’ mother must be skilled in some kind of falconry - or has at least practiced with this bird - as she catches the large creature on her arm without Garrus ever slowing his lacerta .

Jana’s never quite seen a bird that looks like Indignitus , but she can see why the Primarch of Palaven would choose it to be important enough that it’d earn a name. It’s larger than falcons she’s used to having seen in vids and at least four feet long from its dangerously sharp looking beak to its tail, but that isn’t what’s so unique - so intimidatingly interesting - about it.

With bright eyes of yellow encircled by a bright red, slender head, curved beak, and tuffs of feathers that frame its beak, the bird looks more deadly than any other birds of prey she’s seen from vids. It’s feathers almost look like spikes that have been painted a rich, striking blue as it curves its neck at some wordless command Garrus’ mother gives it as she unties something from its leg. Jana watches as Garrus’ mother lets the bird take flight once more, eyes taking in the sight of its massive, black wings flapping as it soars higher.

A small scroll seems to have been tied to Indignitus’ leg and Garrus’ mother leans her body closer to Garrus to keep a better balance as she unravels the piece of parchment.

Her voice is firm as she speaks, but Jana’s quick glance at her face betrays the woman’s concern as she relays the message. “He’s calling for aid. The Reaper is at Fort Datriux.”

I was wondering where the bastard went to ….

Garrus says something under his breath, a curse no doubt, but doesn’t otherwise respond as he shouts at his lacerta to push it faster. He takes the lead and they race to the fort as fast as they can, hoping to arrive before the Reaper can cause the same amount of destruction it had to Cipritine.

Their horses are sweaty and panting - and Jana can swear she even hears small sounds of discomfort and pain from them when the riders shift in their saddles - by the time they reach the barricades of Fort Datriux. Battle hasn’t yet made it up from the water to breach the Fort’s walls, but Jana can still see soldiers preparing amidst efforts to treat and relieve those already fighting down by the docks.

Though shocked to see him, the soldiers there make way for Garrus as he finally gives his lacerta a chance to breathe as he rides it into the fort’s massive gates. He doesn’t speak as he leads the others into stopping and getting off their mounts, helping his mother before turning to a soldier that’s come to address him from the bustle of the Fort.

“Where’s my father?” Garrus asks but doesn’t wait for an answer before turning to the few men General Malolin had sent with them. “Help the others by the water. We’ll need a clear way to the Normandy.”

The cabal soldiers give what Jana’s come to realize is the turian salute before rushing off towards the opposite gate of the fort. When Garrus seems ready for his answer, the female turian standing before him gives the salute with a flick of her green-painted mandibles.

“Your father is within, Atheling,” she says before dropping her hand and begins to lead the way towards one of the smaller towers set out from the perimeter wall. “He’s sent for aid, but that was only a moment ago.”

“We intercepted Indignitus on our way here,” Jon says as he pushes to walk near Garrus’s mother as she follows Garrus and the soldier. “I have no doubt the Reaper’s here for the Normandy.”

“Then my father should have a plan.” Garrus leaves the soldier at the threshold to a chamber, pushing in past the turians at the ready for orders from their Primarch.

Garrus’ father stands over a large, wooden table where maps have been strewn about the surface and marked with pawns for what has to be soldier and Corrupt formations. He’s an imposing figure in his spiked, plated armor in a dark blue and black in contrast to his white plates and looks even more like a dragon than the Praetorians Jana’s seen.

His eyes are a deep, intense gold when he glances up at the intrusion and a wave of relief washes over his face for just a moment before the Primarch mask falls back into place. As he stands to his full height, Jana gets a feeling of a stern, but just leader from the drastic change of the way he holds and carries himself as opposed to his much more relaxed - and even reluctant - son. Eyes sweeping over the group following his son and mate, the Primarch approaches them with squared shoulders and a royal lift of his head.

“Garrus …. You managed to make it here through Cipritine,” he says with a low rumble before going to his wife, taking her hand in both of his, and laying it softly against his mandible as they both share a near-silent purr. It’s a gesture he only lets them see for a split second, but Jana knows it well as a confirmation between the two of their relative safety.

She knows Garrus’ father must have been worried sick about his mother knowing they were a sea apart during this war.

“Primarch Castis,” Jon says, stepping forward, “My name is Templar Jonathan Shepard-”

The Primarch nods with a low hum. “Yes, I know who you are, Templar. My son has said much about you.”

Nodding in understanding, Jon adds, “I want to apologize for the confusion regarding our arrival. I hadn’t expected Councilor Udina to send for the Normandy.”

“We thought it’d be safer to come by land.” Garrus flicks his mandible. “Leaving by the Normandy is bound to attract attention now.”

The Primarch hums again, half turning to the large table of maps and strategic planning. “As unexpected as it may be, it just may prove a greater option than traversing the Apien Sea and cutting through Cipritine as it now is.”

Jon’s brows raise in interest as he motions the table laden with parchments. “Do you have a plan, Primarch?”

Garrus’ father nods with a low rumble, motioning them to follow him to the table and they crowd around, the turian commanders around making room for the newcomers to see their laid out plans.

“The Reaper knows the Normandy is here,” The Primarch says. “It’s protected within the cove, but the challenge will be getting it to open waters.”

“Where it can catch a Rift,” Garrus concludes with a flick of his mandible and Jon nods in agreement.

“Indeed,” Primarch Castis replies with a low hum before leaning over the map of the supposed ‘cove’ at the northern shore of Menae that has created a kind of cover from the dragon’s attacks. “That’s why we plan to distract it. We’ve been constructing our defenses since we caught sight of it on the horizon. Ships and shore are equipped with trebuchets and ballistas along with able-bodied soldiers primed and ready for any attack from the Demons and other Corrupt.” He glances up at Jon. “I’ve heard your ship is fast along with its ability to ride Rifts as Garrus claims.”

Jon nods, shoulders squaring and chin lifting in pride for his ship. “It is, your Primacy. With distraction keeping the Reaper’s attention, we only need to make it far enough to catch a Rift in the deeper waters.”

Garrus’ father watches Jon for a moment before he gives a slight nod and stands to his full height, the bend of his ivory wings seeming to rise higher as he straightens his back. “General Victus will escort us with a small fleet of what ships remain intact here in the cove. They will encircle the Normandy, defending it and launching an attack on the Reaper as it tries to target your ship.”

Jon frowns slightly, looking among the commanding officers in the room, one of which stands General Victus in a dark steel and blue armor, cape laying between his wings and a helmet under his arm. “We might lose a lot of your men and ships, Primarch,” Jon says as he quirks his brow in confusion. “The Reaper controls the skies and our weapons are slow ….”

The Primarch nods with a low, but deep rumble. “We’re all well aware of the risks. Observing the Reaper has shown that it’s fast - deadly - but just as Garrus has described the others you’ve come into contact with. It takes pleasure in attacking what ships and men we have trying to defend Fort Datriux. Where it could easily burn everything to the ground, it has chosen many times to directly attack, flying low and pressing its sheer size against us. It’s proud just as Garrus has described them and we plan to use that against it.”

“It doesn’t know how the Normandy works,” Garrus says, realization dawning on his face as he leans over the table and finally looks down at the pawn pieces representing the ships and gatherings of soldiers laid out across a map of the fort, coast, and sea beyond. “You’re planning on it thinking it can just pick off ships until the Normandy’s in the deep waters and defenseless.” When his father nods, Garrus pulls his mandibles in tightly and gives Jon a glance. “Are you sure?” he asks his father, standing up from the table. “We could be wrong ….”

“Then we never had a chance to begin with,” his father states plainly, assurance mixing with a dose of acceptance in his voice.

He knows we may all die in this crazy plan, but he’s right …. We can’t go back the way we came because we’d be in the same exact predicament.

Hopefully, they’re all right with this ‘riding the Rift’ talk …. We’ll be sitting ducks in open waters if this were any regular ship ….

Jon cups his chin, eyes taking in every inch of the maps laid out before his jaw twitches in a forced swallow and he nods. “It’s our best chance. The Primarch is right,” he says as he turns to Garrus before giving the others in their group a look and firm nod. “We won’t have a chance across the Apien Sea. The Normandy can’t slip through a Rift there.” Turning to the Primarch after taking a good look at the turian commanders gathered around, he asks, “What will happen to the ships left of the escorting fleet?”

“We’ll do our duty,” General Victus says as he steps forward before giving a dip of his head to the Primarch. “We will get the Normandy to deeper waters and, with what’s left of my fleet, we will travel to the Citadel to rejoin you. We are fully prepared for the possibility that the Reaper will decide to destroy us even after the Normandy is safe, but it’s something we fully accept.”

Die for the cause ….

It’s clear that Jon doesn’t like the idea of lives lost for the sake of one ship - granted, that ship will have nearly the entire royal family aboard - but he nods in acceptance. “Let me get my men aboard and let my crew know. We’ll be fully prepared for a Rift the very second we arrive on one. I don’t plan to let your ships and men die if we can help it.”

Garrus’ father tilts his head slightly, scrutinizing Jon for a long moment before he nods. “Very well.” He looks to General Victus and the other commanding officers with a hum. “General, gather your men and alert your fleet.” He turns to a black plated turian, bright yellow stripes across his mandibles and chin standing out against the dark steel of his armor, and adds, “Captain Vallokius, as the senior officer of the remaining forces, you’ll be in charge of maintaining control of Fort Datriux and coordinating the war effort on Menae with General Malolin.”

The Captain gives the Primarch the turian salute with a dip of his head before he turns to a group of others - possibly other captains - and begins to give them orders to get to their ships and spread the word of their plans.

“Now, Templar,” Primarch Vakarian says, coming to Jon with a hum as the rest of the commanding officers give their ruler their salutes before rushing off to prepare their men. “Garrus has told me of the capabilities of your ship and I’ve read many things about how it can ride Rifts, but I still want an honest answer. Are you sure the Normandy can make it to deep waters quickly? I may have a small fleet to distract the Reaper, but I’m still hesitant to give the Normandy my full confidence. I’d rather not lose hundreds of turians to protect it, only to be nothing more than a mere nuisance to the Reaper.”

Jon squares his shoulders. “The Normandy can do it, your Primacy. We’ll do all we can to get away from Menae, but I can’t promise what’ll happen to your ships once the Normandy is gone. The Reaper may very well destroy your ships out of anger.”

Garrus’ father nods. “I’m aware of the possibility. They’ll die for the cause without question.”

Jon frowns slightly, but nods and motions the Primarch towards the door of the tower. “We should get you and your family aboard, your Primacy. The sooner my men and ship know our plans, the better.”

“Jon.” Garrus stops as his father takes his mother’s hand in the crook of his elbow to guide her out. “What about your men still in Palaven? We won’t be able to dock higher up the coast if we’re slipping into a Rift.”

Jon gives a slight nod before calling out. “Primarch Castis,” he says, brushing past some of the turian guards following their Primarch out the door. “Is there a way we can send word to my men on the shores north of Cipritine? We’ll need to find another way to meet up with them.”

“I sent Severus to divert them away from Cipritine. To head north,” Garrus adds as he steps out into the rain pouring down ahead of his parents, turning back to them. “They’re bound to reach Iacus by the time we can get a raven to them.” He glances at Jon and flicks a mandible at Jon’s nod. “Jon’s party has a raven master. She can intercept the message.”

Garrus’ father looks down to Jon with a hum before glancing at one of the turians following closely, a turian in a set of lighter armor coupled with a deep blue robe. “Send a raven towards Iacus and the northern shore where Templar Shepard’s crew await. Tell them to head to where the Path of the Spirits meets the sea.” He looks to Jon and explains, “It’s the largest river in this area of Palaven and the Reaper won’t be able to travel up the coast as fast as the Normandy if you take it into deep waters, then change course once we’re out of danger.”

“Good idea,” Jon agrees with a nod in an apparent silent gesture to the messenger to run off to his task. “Even if Praetorian Severus isn’t with them, my navigator, Stephen, will be able to find the Path of the Spirits on his maps.”

Primarch Vakarian doesn’t respond as he leads his mate, her hand tucked neatly in the soft spot of his elbow in between the pieces of armor. He seems unbothered by the rain coming down hard, instead taking his offered helmet under his arm as he shouts orders to any soldiers he passes not already hurriedly following given orders. Jana sees a large trebuchet being pulled through the large archway ahead, at least eight turians hauling it towards the large outcropping overlooking the cove, their feet slipping in the mud.

This must be a reason why they have their toes uncovered. Boots would only slide and the sheer weight of the trebuchet would drag them back down the incline ….

“Jameson, Jana, and Tali,” Jon says, stopping to turn aside to them and point back towards the entrance they approached the fort from. “Gather the horses and bring them to the Normandy.”

“And the lacerta? ” Rain runs in rivulets over Jameson’s helmet, flicking off as he jerks his head towards the large entrance.

Giving a slight shake of his head, Jon steps out of the way of a group of turians walking past with a chest of what must be some kind of supplies for Garrus’ father as they start to follow the Primarch towards the docks. “Leave them. The Captain in charge here will find a use for them.”

“They’ll probably be good muscle in this sludge,” Garrus adds with a nod before turning to Jana and flicking his mandibles at her. “I’ll alert the Normandy’s marshals that you’re bringing them in. They’ll get ready to secure the horses.”

“Right,” Jameson shouts over a rolling boom of thunder before motioning Tali and Jana to join him.

The mud is thick and sucks at her boots, but maintaining as fast a pace as they can given the circ*mstances keeps the sludge from forming suction that’s too strong to get out of. It makes loud smacks and Jana has to give Tali a hand out of a sudden hole her foot’s found, but they make it to the stables where the turians tending to the animals have thrown down dried grass for footing.

“We’re taking the horses,” Jameson says to what looks like the closest thing to a stablehand there is here in the fort, bare save for a few pieces of armor and stained apron.

“And what am I to do with the lacerta? ” The turian growls and motions the small hut someone has turned into a place to tie down mounts. “This place isn’t suited for animals!”

Jameson gives the male turian an apologetic look but grabs the reins of his and Jon’s horses in each hand. “I don’t know …. Ask Captain - what was his name?” he asks Jana and Tali as they’re untying the other horses.

“Vallokius,” Jana answers, pulling her horses behind her as she walks to the turian, Tali and Jameson already heading under the archway of the fort’s walls and into its muddy grounds. “Maybe you can use them to pull heavy equipment? I’m sure they can crawl through the mud ….”

“Jana!”

Giving one last look to the frustrated turian, Jana leaves him to haul the horses towards the fort and follows behind Tali and Jameson with their horses. She feels for the guy, knowing he’s probably been given the task as an afterthought now that they do have animals to tend to but hopefully those left behind at Fort Datriux can come up with some use for them. It’d be a shame to just let the animals loose for the sake of not having to care for them.

At least, she hopes that’s what they’d do any not something worse … like let them starve or … or eat them.

But, then again, this is war. Food may become scarce pretty damn fast and it might be the only option.

Shaking off the thought, Jana focuses on the loud squelches of the horses’ hooves in the mud as she guides them through the bustling fort and towards the docks just a short way past the opposite archway. The horses drag her more than the other way around, but she’s grateful for the fact that she can use their momentum to keep from getting stuck in the muck.

By the time they get to the Normandy, Bettrice and Sybill are there and waiting to help. They take the extra horses and guide them up the gangplank and onto the cargo deck. There are stables along the wall for the mounts. They aren’t much, but it gives the animals room to move around and a sturdy beam to tie them to so the two marshals can start to strip the horses of their heavy gear.

Jana starts to help unpack Alfi , but Jameson stops her with a hand on her shoulder. Looking to him in confusion, she catches him motioning to Tali before jerking his head towards the stairs.

“We’re almost ready to leave.” He smiles and pulls off his helmet. “You might want to see this. It’s quite the thing to see the Normandy in action.”

“You sure?” Jana pats the soaked horse’s rear. “I don’t want to get in the way ….”

“I’d like to see how this ship can ‘ride a Rift,’” Tali says with a slight wring to her hands. “I don’t know what that means, but everyone’s making it sound like something only the Normandy can do.”

Jameson nods and takes the pack Jana untied from Alfi from her hands. “Go. It’s going to be hectic up there, but maybe you can find a way to, I don’t know, defend the deck while you’re really there to see the ship in action.”

Jana gives Tali a quick glance before finally nodding. “Tali, get your crossbow,” she says as she grabs her sword from the sheath on Alfi’s saddle, leaving her shield behind because of its cumbersome weight and shape. “Let’s go. If any Corrupt make it aboard, we can help the turians fight them off while Jon and the Primarch are busy.”

“Good idea.”

There aren’t as many turians packed into the Normandy as the Resolute, but Jana’s sure the difference in size is mostly the cause. Also, the Normandy isn’t meant to be a battleship in this escape, so posting too many soldiers aboard will only make the decks too crowded for the crew scrambling to get the Normandy to deep waters.

Getting to the top deck, Jana sees Jon and the Primarch at the helm, eyes taking in the field of ships in the waters around them as Joker prepares himself for the challenging task of maneuvering the field. A piercing cry splits through the thunder and Jana’s eyes rise to catch the large bird - Indignitus - soaring above the ship before flying towards Garrus’s father. The Primarch lifts his arm for the massive bird to perch, checking a scroll attached to its leg before turning to Jon and saying something Jana just barely catches.

“General Victus and his fleet are ready, Templar,” Garrus’ father shouts over the rain and Jon gives a stern nod.

“Everyone,” Jon calls out, leaning over the railing of the Normandy’s helmsman’s deck, “prepare yourselves for an all-out chase. The Reaper must not catch this ship!”

Crewmen give their ‘aye’s and loud cheers of agreement as they rush to prepare to disembark from the docks. Jana and Tali are sure to stay out of the way as the crew rush about the deck and she sees Garrus moving about the few turian soldiers waiting for any attack that may fall on the Normandy once they’re movements begin to attract attention.

“Fight without leaving the ship,” he says as he passes each of them, laying a hand on a soldier that seems just a little less attentive. “If your feet aren’t touching this deck when a Rift opens, you’ll be left behind.” He gives the inattentive soldier a stern look to make sure his words sink in. “Keep connected to the Normandy and you won’t be stranded in open water.”

“Yes, Atheling!” They salute and spread about the deck, taking position at strategic places where it doesn’t seem to be in the crew’s way, but gives them the ability to intercept any Demons as they dive towards the ship with archers at higher posts on the deck.

Jana thinks that’s all Garrus has to say about the possibility of battle and that he’s soon to take position at his own perch, but he approaches her and Tali instead. It’s hard to read his expression under his hood, but he seems confident when he rolls his shoulders.

“Don’t worry about the Normandy. I’ve seen what she can do” he says and Jana can see the hint of a smile, though she still hears an underlying hum of nervousness. “If anyone can outmaneuver a Reaper, it’s our helmsman, Joker.”

Jana huffs a weak laugh. “Yeah, it was the same for us-”

A booming roar tears through the heaviness of the tension brought on by the storm and their unsure plans of escape, slicing through the air with a power that dwarfs the loud thunder that’s been chasing them all along their ride up the coast. For all their preparedness, soldiers and crew alike look up upon the dragon soaring overhead with trepidation, hands tightening on weapons or the ships’ ropes and lines.

“What are you waiting for?” Jon yells, pointing towards the open water that seems so far away. “We move or we die! Onward! Maker carry us!”

Even the turian soldiers feed on Jon’s urgency and commanding presence as they flex their arms holding their weapons, wings twitching in trepidation. Crewmen shout in exertion as they draw the sails and push the heavy cog to draw up the anchor, boots fighting for traction on the slick wood of the deck.

Ships anchored ahead of the Normandy in the cove guide the way into the open waters, leading the pack as they surround the Normandy like special cargo. Jana hopes the idea of overwhelming the Reaper with numerous targets is going to pay off as she watches all manner and sizes of ships make a break for the deeper waters of the sea.

“Til los mal hind do filok, Joor. ” The booming, bone-chilling voice of the Reaper reverberates through Jana’s body as its shadow engulfs the Normandy when soars overhead. She can’t shake the feeling of it circling them like a predator circling its helpless prey. “Aav hin vodahmin til fin Feim,” it says as it tucks its wings close and dives towards a large ship off the Normandy’s starboard side.

The turian ship gets off a large bolt from its ballista, but it skids off the dragon’s tough scales as it swoops over them, engulfing the deck with flames. The ship’s sails catch flame as if made of dry kindling, but the soldiers still fight, taking to the few places on the deck not awash with the blaze as they prepare their siege weapons for another attempt.

With the first attack made, the fleet comes to life like a flip of a switch. Staying within the formation encircling the Normandy, the larger ships capable of carrying the large ballistas and trebuchets launch their own offensive measures. Still this close to the shore, those weapons situated along the cliff of the coast can launch heavy bolts and boulders too, with each miss crashing into the ocean with heavy splashes that send even more salty water onto the ship decks to mix with the stinging rain.

Though the soldiers aboard the Normandy are unable to fly up to combat the Demons and Corrupt they carry into the battle, Jana can see swarms of turians take to the skies to combat the Reaper forces. With the smaller beasts assaulting the ships while the Reaper flies over the field, there’s no rest for the crewmen of the ships as they try to keep their vessels afloat long enough to maintain that wall around the Normandy.

Holding her breath as the Reaper approaches the fleet once more after engulfing men on the shore in flames, Jana watches as it seems to zero in on the largest ship of the turian fleet sailing just ahead of the Normandy. She’s sure it has to be General Victus’ ship and she has a sinking feeling that it may very well be their best defense against the Reaper’s attention because of its sheer size overshadowing the Normandy. Without it so soon into their escape, they may not make it to deep waters.

Swooping down to get within fire breathing range of the large ship, the dragon gets close enough that when the soldiers aboard aim and fire their heavy weapons, a ballista manages hits its mark. A large bolt sinks into the juncture of its broad belly scales. It’s a once in a lifetime shot and one that’s sure to never happen again, but it sends a rush of hope through her as she watches the Reaper roar and change course, giving a mighty flap of its wings to rise away from the ship and any possible follow up ballista shots.

It’s a small success as Jana sees that more ships have begun to catch fire, some already sinking, from the Corrupt attacks.

Seemingly angered by its injury, the Reaper swoops down over the fleet, not even bothering to stop and focus on a single ship as it breathes fire in its wake. Too many ships ignite in bright flames too strong for the rain to help tame in any way and it engulfs ships much too close to the Normandy. A good number of its escort on its port side are blanketed in Corrupt and fire alike, the heavy weapons all but useless as the crew and soldiers aboard have much more pressing matters to deal with.

“Daanik los nust wo krif Faal Unahzaal,” the Reaper snarls as it flexes its body, thrusting its feet forward into a smaller ship before sinking its massive claws into the hull and lifting what little remains of the destroyed vessel in its grip - which isn’t much more than splintered boards and its upper deck’s sails and structures - into the sky.

Jana grinds her teeth at the screams of turians as the Reaper soars high, kicking its feet to send the wreckage flying into another, larger ship like nothing more than a bundle of weighty trash. The larger ship’s sails shatter and many of the turians on the upper deck are unprepared for the attack and either injured by debris or outright killed by the sheer size and weight of what hull from the ship the Reaper managed to grasp in its claws.

“We’re getting torn apart!” Garrus shouts to Jon and his father, growling as he motions his hand towards the destruction and chaos. “We need to move faster!”

Neither of the commanding, stoic men speak as they stare forward, eyes latched onto the deeper, darker waters of the open ocean.

“ Deodamnatus !” Hitting the railing of the Normandy’s deck with his fists, he turns to Jana and she can see the fire burning in his hooded eyes through the expression on his face.

“We’ll make it,” she says, though she’s not sure if it’s more for herself or him.

“We have to.”

One of the soldiers aboard calls out incoming Demons and Garrus growls, pulling his bow over his shoulder and slipping an arrow from its quiver. Jana is left without any real options to fire, but she steps aside to let Tali get a good view as she lines up her crossbow on the small flock of Demons that have focused onto the Normandy.

Tali’s first bolt grazes a Demon’s wing - that being the biggest target area on its body for her skill level and the amount of change in direction the strong winds are causing - and it dips in the sky just a fraction, mouth opening in an unheard noise as the tip of its tail cuts through the surface of the water. She curses under her breath and moves for another bolt when Garrus nocks an arrow, taking only a moment before letting go and sending the arrow slicing through the air like a hot blade without even the slightest wobble caused from wind interference.

Jana sees the Demon react more than she sees the arrow hit its mark, the beast screeching as its head snaps from the force of the arrow and it immediately crashes into the tumultuous sea, its body hitting a tall peak of a wave as if it were a brick wall.

“Mark one,” Garrus says as he lowers his bow slightly, scanning the area for his next target.

That was a hell of a shot ….

“Get ready for a jump!” Joker yells above the thunder and sounds of battle, hat either gone to the winds or put away somewhere where it won’t become a nuisance in battle.

A strange feeling engulfs Jana and she has to lay her free hand on the railing of the deck. It feels like sudden nausea and she fears she’s going to have a repeat of their trip to the Citadel, but there’s something odd about the sensation.

Like a pulling within, her stomach seems to churn as her blood ignites, skin surely flushing. A tingle fills her and she lays her hand on her stomach as an odd sense of … pleasure washes over and drowns out her nausea. She can swear she’s vibrating, but putting her hand back on the railing reveals that its the Normandy, a reverberation so rapid and strong that it almost makes her hand numb from the touch.

She can almost imagine the roar she sounds is full of sudden anger at being deceived and she looks up to see the world around her as a kind of … blur. She has her helmet on, but she sees everything as if the rain has washed over her face, getting into her eyes before she can wipe or blink it away. Objects fade into colors, which then fades into the darkness of the black and stormy skies, only the fires of burning ships all that cuts through the seeming nothingness.

Is this a Rift?

Chapter 15: Differences

Chapter Text

Coming out of the other side of a Rift gives Jana a feeling of whiplash, but not in the same physical way as she’d regularly describe it. It’s a lurching in her abdomen, her stomach twisting as her heart seems to thump against her sternum at the sudden stop of momentum. Even her mind feels like it’s been suddenly jerked still from reeling and spinning, thoughts jumbled and fuzzy as her vision clears.

“What was …” Tali starts, setting her hands on the railing of the deck to balance as Jana lays a hand on her chest as if to soothe the disconnected feeling surrounding her lungs.

Looking around and seeing the sky much brighter - though still carrying a shadow from the darkness that lurks in the sky far on the horizon - and a shoreline in sight, Jana lets out a deep breath that seems stuck in her throat from the shift in reality. She glances at Garrus, seeing his slightly concerned look and notices he seems much more comfortable than herself and Tali after what just happened.

“Was that a Rift?” she asks, dropping her hand from her chest to look at the coast they seem to be heading towards. “Where are we?”

Rumbling, Garrus shifts to stand beside her, looking out at the shore. “You mean Jon didn’t use it to escape the Reapers at Earth?”

Jana shrugs turning to him. “We weren’t here when Jon had to get off Earth.” She catches the confusion in Garrus’ eyes and corrects herself. “Get away from Earth. Sorry, still getting used to that.”

His mandibles relax as he chuckles slightly. “No, it’s okay …. I was more curious where it was you managed to slip into our realm if it wasn’t at Earth.”

“Mars,” she says, moving to lean over the railing, her elbows on the dark wood. “It wasn’t the same place we left our … ‘realm’ from, but it’s where we arrived. I don’t know how, but it was with something we thought was prothean before it did … this,” she adds with a motion of her hand to the air around them without shifting her position. “The Normandy didn’t do … whatever it was it just did since we’ve been on it.”

“Makes sense,” Garrus says with a low rumble and Jana gives him a sideways glance, though she isn’t sure if he sees it from the way she’s angled and his given height. “Riding a Rift like that is really risky. It draws a lot of attention ….”

“What exactly just happened?” Tali asks, crossing her arms as she looks past Jana to Garrus.

“Um … well …. I can try to explain it, but the scholars and EDI could explain it better than me by far. But if you want what I know,” he says, rumbling as he pushes his hood back from his face and off his crest.

The sight of his face not shadowed by a hood or blurred by rain makes Jana swallow hard and itch to reach for her ring, but she distracts herself with listening to what he has to say. She can compose herself enough to sate her dying curiosity to understand this strange world. She feels she needs to if she’s going to adapt properly and learn to survive here.

“You already know about Fracture and how we can use it with Rift Gates, but the Normandy is special,” he starts, leaning a hip against the railing as he gazes off, as if trying to put together how to explain something he clearly isn’t the expert at. “The Normandy was made by my and your - well, humans here’s - best scholars. They translated runes from our respective Gates and … came to some questionable conclusions on how what they learned could be combined and used in tandem.

“They knew they couldn’t recreate a Rift Gate - not with what they translated - but they learned how Rift Gates can help us navigate the fractures all over Alysim.” He crosses his hands, drumming his fingers on his forearm. “Regular ships use compasses specifically designed from the runes on Gates and have the ability to track Rifts and help navigate them. Without them, ships would disappear in the deep waters. It’s a mystery why and no one has been able to answer it but the scholars used that knowledge to give the Normandy speed that was previously unheard of for any vessel of its size. But they weren’t satisfied with just that ….

“They put so much on faith in their studies and translations and … well, just plain luck when they started to transfer the combined runes from both the Charon and Trebian Gates into the very wood of the Normandy.” He drops his arms to run a palm on the wood of the railing at his side. “When we dock, take a look at its hull and you’ll see the runes carved into it …. It takes special knowledge to know how to actually use them to propel the Normandy through Rifts, but EDI covers that now.”

“If the Normandy is as successful as it is - I assume it is successful?” Jane stops and looks to Garrus to get his answer, continuing when he gives a nod. “Then if it works, why aren’t more ships made with these runes?”

“Aside from the fact that it’s still dangerous, attracts Reapers when used too often, and isn’t completely understood by its own creators? The scholars responsible for making it have either gone mission or died since the Normandy’s creation.” He hums and pulls his mandibles to his jaw, fidgeting a bit. “Jon and I - and some others - have a good feeling that Cerberus made sure they couldn’t share their findings or new translations they were still discovering after the Normandy was constructed.” He breathes a heavy sigh and shakes his head, looking aside to the shoreline. “There’s no telling how many years it’ll be before new scholars can translate, comprehend, and know how to use the entirety of the runes on the Normandy.”

Jane frowns, chewing the inside of her lip as she thinks on what he’s said, trying to further understand the makings of the ship. Deep down, it’s somewhat similar to FTL, but there’s a much more supernatural aspect to this world and its workings.

She’s been reminded of that too many times to feign obliviousness.

“You said it attracts Reapers? Then why did we use it?” She stands up and lifts a brow towards him. “Won’t the Reaper know where we are now that we’ve come out the other side?”

Garrus’ attention returns to her and he smiles slightly, shaking his head. “Don’t worry …. Yes, Reapers can sense when we do it but the less we use the Normandy to manipulate Fracture, the less of a … pull we create. We don’t know how they know and track us, but we don’t think it’s instantaneous. Reapers don’t react instantly to it … so I think Jon and my father are confident that we shouldn’t have left a strong enough trail for the Reaper to come for us while we’re still at Aephus,” he says with a motion of his hand towards the shore the ship is sailing steadily towards.

Closer now, Jana can see a port city located where a large river feeds into the mouth of the sea. It must be the Path of the Spirits mentioned where Jon’s crew would be sent for pick up now that they’re out of the immediate reach of the Reaper. The water bustles with ships large and small, some obviously from Palaven or otherwise sailing damaged by some other means and, for the most part, it seems like the city hasn’t yet begun to realize the extent of the Reaper’s incoming impact on daily life here.

“Do you know if Jon plans on staying here long?” she asks him, turning away from the sight to seek Jon out on the helmsman’s deck.

“I doubt it.” Garrus hums as he seems to gaze out over Aephus before finally shifting away from the railing. “I should go see to my family …. I can return with Jon’s plans if you want?”

She looks up to see a slight smile to his fluttering mandibles and shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it,” she assures. “Make sure your family’s settled. I’m sure I’ll get my answer pretty quick once we dock.”

Garrus is quiet a moment before nodding and moving away, but she calls to him.

“Oh, hey!” She takes a step forward to almost touch him to catch his attention but catches herself in a split second before making that mistake. “We didn’t bring your lacertas aboard.”

He gives her a confused look before it seems like the words sink in and he finally chuckles. “Well, yeah ….” When she doesn’t catch onto his apparent humor, his expression returns to puzzlement as he says, “Having a pack of hungry lacerta trapped on a ship with a bunch of big prey animals?” He rumbles in amusem*nt. “Lacerta and horses don’t really travel together very well. Too much temptation, I guess,” he adds with a shrug and half-smile before taking his leave to approach the helm where his father is speaking with Jon.

“This is incredible,” Tali says and Jana lifts a brow at her friend. “It’s not too far off from what we do with Eezo-”

“Except Eezo can be explained by science,” Jana retorts but sighs as she takes in the city of Aephus and lays a hand on her chest where her ring lies beneath her gambeson. “This is so much more … unexplainable.” She huffs a weak laugh. “Magic.”

Tali breathes out a long breath and crosses her arms. “How else would you explain us getting here? As much as I’m trying to explain things in my head, there’s a lot here that might just have to be accepted as is.” Turning to gaze out at Aephus beside Jana, she lays her hands on the railing. “We have to accept there are things here that work ... differently ….”

Jana hums and watches the ships they pass in the harbor on the Normandy’s way towards the docks. “I know …. I’m just trying to come to terms with it all. It’s taking … a long time.”

Tali is quiet a long time before a hand moves to lay on Jana’s shoulder. Jana has a feeling her friend knows just why she’s struggling to come to terms with the impossible things this reality has been throwing at them.

Or, more accurately, the impossible person.

The two stand in silence, watching the Normandy and her crew as they come to the docks. For the most part, they aren’t in the way of the crew lowering the sails or dropping anchor as Joker expertly lines them up with the long wooden dock. From their height, they can see the hull below part as the crew down in the cargo hold lay out gangplanks.

Jon must have taken his leave from the helm long ago because it’s gone when he leaves the Normandy. He’s one of the first of the few humans and turians to step out and onto the water-soaked dock in time to greet an approaching turian. The turian isn’t dressed in armor, but average garb Jana’s seen around the Citadel. Maybe that of an official, she guesses, by the quality of his clothing and crisp colors of his tunic emblazoned with an insignia of a flying bird on his chest. He also holds a large scroll under an arm as he dips his head in polite greeting.

“Templar Shepard,” the turian says as he lifts his head, “We’ve been expecting you.” The man opens his scroll and begins to read, nodding his head. “Yes …. Your crew has arrived from Cipritine. A ‘Stephen Cortez’ has claimed responsibility in your absence.”

The tone in the man’s voice gives the feeling of a question, a glance from his scroll to gauge Jon’s face for any truth obvious to even Jana this high up.

“Yes,” Jon says with a nod. “That’s right. You’ll pardon my attire,” he adds with a motion to his armor, “and my haste in this situation.”

The turian - Jana assumes - dock manager flicks his mandibles and dips his head again. “Of course … I’m aware of the state of Cipritine …” He pauses and glances at the turians from the few soldiers the Primarch brought aboard as they pass, most likely heading towards what looks like merchants situated just at the head of the various docks.

“Do I need to cover any expenses?” Jon crosses his arms and the turian closes the scroll with a straightened back.

“No, Templar,” he says. “My apologies if I gave that impression. I only meant to assure you that we’ve sent word to them on the Normandy’s approach. They were camped outside of the city, so they’ll need to make their way here …. If there is anything I or my men can assist you with ….”

“That’ll be all.” Jon motions the merchant shops at the end of the dock. “I’m sure the Primarch is sending some men to acquire some basic things he’ll need during our travel, so if they seem like they need assistance, I think they’d let you know.”

“The …. The Primarch?” The turian pulls his head back slightly, giving his mandibles a quick flick and Jana can tell he’s in stunned awe.

Maybe it’s not so common to be around royalty in this universe as it is to be around lawmakers and dignitaries in ours. To tell the truth, I never got the feeling from Primarch Victus on my ship as I do from Garrus’ father in just this short time being around him.

“I’d prefer that to be kept secret,” Jon says with a stern look at the turian, opposing even with the drastic height difference between him and the much taller turian.

Drawing his wings tightly against his back, the turian composes himself and dips his head. “Of course. I won’t speak a word of it.” His wings relax a fraction when Jon nods in approval and he says, “I’ll see to the men from your ship and getting what wares they purchase to the Normandy promptly.”

“That’ll be much appreciated,” Jon says, relaxing his arms and nodding. “Thank you.”

The turian dock manager gives a final nod of his head in parting before hurrying off to either find his men and get them working on hauling supplies or to the merchants to try and catch the Primarch’s men before needing to be searched for. Something tells Jana that the turian is most likely strict with those who dock at his docks, but the idea of serving the Primarch in even a very minor way has him thrown and bustling to make everything go smoothly and quickly.

Jane chuckles to herself at the thought that the turians’ supplies may very well be purchased, brought to the Normandy, and tied down long before Jon’s crew will make it through Aephus. When Tali glance at her in question, Jana motions a hand towards the retreating turian.

“Saying the Primarch’s aboard really lit a fire under his ass, it seems,” she says with another chuckle. “I bet if he could get his men to carry the Normandy crew through Aephus on their backs just to get them here faster, he would.”

Tali shrugs but huffs a soft laugh. “At least Jon got him moving instead of pestering him with paperwork.”

“Looks like bureaucracy is the same in every universe. At least I’m not stuck with the paperwork now.”

The two laugh quietly to themselves as they keep watch on the docks, marveled at just how fast the dockworkers are moving the supplies the turian soldiers have procured.

Eventually, in between escorting turian supplies onto the Normandy and speaking with dockworkers as they offer any bit of assistance to the Normandy’s crew coming and going across the gangplanks, Jon looks up to see Jana and Tali leaning over the deck’s railing to get a good look at him and the others down below. He smiles and holds up a hand to them, seeming to wait until he’s sure he has both of their attentions before he speaks.

“We’ll be off in short time,” he shouts up to them and drops his arm. “Once my crew is safely aboard and the turians have the last of their supplies, we’ll head north. You should change out of your armor, Jana.” Putting his armored hands on his hips he jerks a head to Aephus. “I plan to wait for the others, but I’m sure Jameson and Liara have already made themselves comfortable for the trip. No use you standing around in your armor when we’re not bound to find ourselves in any combat at sea.”

Jana gives Tali a questioning look before nodding and standing up from the railing. “Alright. I won’t say ‘no’ to getting out of this armor.” Turning to Tali, she smiles and tilts her head towards the stairs leading to the decks below. “Staying up here to … watch??”

Tali hums and glances back down - at Jon, no doubt - and fidgets a bit as she debates her choices. Jana knows Tali heard the teasing note to her question but is doing a fantastic job of not letting it show, perhaps getting confident in her admiration for Jon. Drumming her fingers on the railing, she finally straightens and nods, saying, “I’ll come.”

Jana smirks slightly and chuckles, putting a hand on her co*cked hip. “You sure? I doubt there’s any better sight,” she responds quietly so only the two of them can hear. “I’m almost sure that you’re having a pretty good time watching what’s happening down there. Going with me is going to be pretty boring in comparison.”

“Oh, shut it…” Tali says with a huff, finally giving a hint of shyness as she waves a hand at Jana. “... bosh’tet.”

Jana laughs and heads for the stairs, bumping her friend with a shoulder as she passes. Tali follows behind, but something seems to be on her mind as she trails behind. Jana’s sure she’s debating going back to gaze on Jon below, but there’s a hint of nervousness to Tali’s downward glances as they walk that has Jana more concerned for what really seems to be bothering her friend.

Entering their room, Jana closes the door and finally turns to her friend and crosses her arms, raising a brow.

“Alright …. Something’s up with you. Spill it,” she says, but drops her arms and gives Tali a half-smile. “I was just teasing you up top. You know that, right?”

Tali hums, distant and lost in thought. “Hmm? Oh.” She waves a hand and nods. “I know …. You’re still a bosh’tet, though.” With Tali growing quiet once more, Jana frowns and comes to sit on her bed across from Tali on her own.

She doesn’t speak, wanting to give Tali her own time to say what’s on her mind instead.

“I … have something to show you - but you can’t freak out,” Tali quickly adds with a stern look. “I don’t want you worrying ….”

Jana gives a hesitant huff devoid of any amusem*nt. “That doesn’t really make me not worry.” At Tali’s exasperated drop of her shoulders, Jana holds up her hands. “Okay, okay …. I’ll keep a clear head. Just don’t keep me in suspense or I can’t promise anything.”

Tali seems to chew over what she has to say, gaze moving away from Jana’s as she wrings her hands in her lap. When she looks to Jana again, she seems to deflate with a long breath and moves her hands to smack her knees once before she stands, starting to pace.

“When we came here, all our tech malfunctioned …. I haven’t been able to fix it - any of it.” She pulls her hand to her voice modulator, fingers curled and thumb against the speaker for a moment in thought before she drops it. “My suit …. My suit is tech, Jana,” she finally says, stopping and turning completely to Jana, quiet as she seems to let that sink in.

Realization sends a chill down Jana’s spine as her eyes widen. “Oh, sh*t ….”

“Yeah ….” Rubbing her arm, Tali glances aside before letting out a deep breath. “Normally, I’d have an onboard system monitoring for any breaches or when it needs and maintenance work ….”

“But it can’t ….” Jana stands and grabs her friend by the shoulders, knowingly caging Tali into saying exactly what this means. “What’s happened?”

“A seal …. A seal has failed.”

Jana swallows hard and drops her hands, trying to go over the days past to try and remember any kind of sign Tali’s health was in danger. She wonders if she’s just imagining the slight stuffiness to Tali’s voice now or if it’s been there for a while now and Jana’s just been so absorbed in other things - in herself - that she hasn’t noticed.

“Jana …. Jana,” Tali says quickly, grabbing Jana’s hands to draw her back from the dark place of worry and fear. “You said you wouldn’t panic.”

“How can I not?” Jana takes a deep breath and squeezes Tali’s hands. She doesn’t sound too sick, but Jana has no idea what’s going on inside Tali’s body. She’s no doctor or quarian to draw conclusions on from experience. “Just … tell me why you’re not freaking out. How are you so calm when we don’t have any antibiotics or fresh seals?”

Tali’s shoulders visibly rise and fall with a deep breath as she glances away and seems to consider her words, letting go of Jana’s hands. “Remember how we found out we’ve changed and can understand what everyone’s saying without the language being the same as our Standard?” She waits for Jana’s slow nod before starting to wave her hands as she speaks, her words slightly rushed. “Well, what if we’ve changed in other ways?”

“Like … physically?”

“Biologically,” Tali admins. “You know how everyone was eating the animals Garrus and the other turians hunted down on Palaven and everything seemed fine?” She pauses for another nod, but Jana still isn’t completely sure where Tali’s going with this line of thought. “What if there’s no levo and dextro here?” She wrings her hands. “What if I’m not so different from you now?”

While that provides an answer to the very real situation of running out of dextro rations for Tali, Jana isn’t sure how a difference in amino acids is going to keep Tali’s immune system strong against contamination. It isn’t like they’re on a clean, mostly sanitized ship in their universe where Tali is likely to just get a minor reaction.

“You’re still not explaining why you having an open seal isn’t such a big deal ….” Jana rubs her forehead to try and ease the tension there. “Just answer me this. How long have you known about this seal?”

“Well ….” Tali wrings her hands, obviously debating the answer. “More than a few days-”

“Tali-”

“No,” Tali snaps, slicing the air with her hand. “You said no panicking!” Crossing her arms, she waits for Jana to quiet down before sighing and continuing. “Yes, I haven’t been feeling too well, but … but things are different.” Moving her hands, she lays them on her chest. “I don’t feel as sick as I normally would. I’ve had a rupture before - and it was bad - but this …. This barely feels like anything. A little bit of congestion, a slight headache, and a little bit of soreness in my throat.” She holds out her hands to her sides and Jana can almost swear Tali’s smiling, amazement rolling off her friend in waves. “What if my immune system is stronger here? What if …. What if I don’t need to find a way to fix my suit?” She reaches out for Jana’s hands and grips them in hers, a kind of desperation in the way she holds on tight. “Do you think I could …. Do you think I can be strong enough to see a day where I don’t need it?”

Jana’s mouth opens, but she closes it. She isn’t sure what this ultimately means for Tali’s health. With a broken seal, she practically is walking around with a hole in her suit. Would removing it completely present more of a chance of infection than the way Tali’s suit is now?

“I … don’t know,” she openly admits but squeezes Tali’s hands to keep her friend’s spirits up. “Maybe …. I mean, you’re open to the world without that seal, so maybe you just need to introduce yourself slowly? If you didn’t react the same way, not as badly, then maybe you are different.” She looks at their hands and smiles, wanting to hope. “Maybe we can learn more from the quarians of this world. If you really are different, then you must be like them. And if they don’t need protection, then maybe you don’t.” She tugs Tali’s hands when she feels her excitement through their grasped hands and gives her friend a stern look. “But don’t rush it. We start with getting over this first …. Then we weed in food to see if you can eat it. Then we’ll see about talking to some quarians.”

Tali nods, the gesture so adamant that her hood even flutters some. “Maybe Jon would be able to tell me some things …. If it’s okay, that is.”

Happy that her friend knows not to push too much for information when it’s so painfully obvious that Jon is much like Jana in the loss of a loved one, Jana smiles and nods. Tali was never one to not know how to avoid approaching sensitive topics, so Jana isn’t worried that Tali will harm the relationship that’s slowly budding between her and Jon by bringing up his Tali.

Chapter 16: Brooch

Chapter Text

The savory aroma of whatever it is a group of the turians aboard are making seems to dance through the Mess and expansive Crew Deck. Even without knowing what kind of creature it is, Jana’s already beginning to feel herself craving the taste of the many spices they’ve been using, to bite through the crispy skin, and let the rich juices of its meat fill her mouth.

However - like some sort of delayed reaction - her body starts to catch up with her senses, her weak stomach making itself known once again to remind her that she’s still at sea - and a rough one at that. Her mind starts to play tricks as it focuses on the thing sitting on the roasting pit.

Though she admits she didn’t know what they were roasting back during their journey across Menae, she never quite had the time or energy to examine their dinner closely. From what she remembers, it had already been butchered far from camp to keep predators from wandering into their camp at night in search of the smell of a fresh kill, so she was spared seeing what animals the island provided. It certainly didn’t taste bad when she was given her portion, though it wasn’t quite like any meat she could place from her own experience, so it was obviously foreign.

It’s funny to see now how easy it had been to get so used to food already being prepared into neatly packed slabs or cooked into - somewhat - familiar dishes now that she’s looking upon a very alien creature on the spit.

Built like a boar with a stout body that’s wider in the shoulders and leads into thinner hindquarters, the creatures’ similarities end there. Its hide looks rough and plated similar to a crocodile from Jana’s Earth, but its body ends in a broad, flat tail. Its legs have been bound up over its back and they look like a mix of flipper and hand, having three toes with sharp claws and a flat forearm seemingly evolved to act like paddles in the water. It’s head, however, belays its true nature as a predator like nearly every other animal in Palaven with its sharp teeth lined up in rows along the snout of its fish-like head.

With one, hard and painful lurch of her stomach, Jana realizes she probably won’t be having dinner tonight even if the meal had been a castle of her favorite chocolates and sweets. Her mind picking apart the appearance of the alien animal isn’t doing anything for her appetite either, so she quickly excuses herself from sitting amongst a group huddled around an older turian soldier boasting about a long scar across his neck and the grand story of his battle on some shore years ago that goes along with it.

She figures she better disappear before the roast is done to save herself any awkward conversations wherein she tries to assure that it isn’t the food itself making her not want to eat, but the Normandy’s swaying. By the state of everyone, it seems like seasickness isn’t really that big a problem for people here and she’d much rather not have to explain that she goes against the norm in yet another way.

Not when it looks like she’ll be spending the majority of her days aboard the sailing Normandy and at odds with her stomach and its apparent preference for the days of old and their smooth flight through space.

Heading to her cabin, she sees Garrus coming from the cabin where Chloe bunks with her herbs and medicinal concoctions, a pouch in hand. He’s in a pair of dark blue, high waisted and tight pants with a loose shirt in an ivory color. He smiles when he catches her eyes over the shoulders of the loud crowds of crew and holds up a hand in greeting while speeding up his step.

“I hoped I’d find you before the balen was done,” he says with a warm rumble, offering the leather pouch.

“Uh, yeah …. Thanks.” Not sure what she’s been given, she unties the drawstring and peeks inside, finding what looks like roots scrubbed clean of dirt. She frowns in confusion but decides she should probably address the elephant on deck instead of question his odd … gift.

“Is that what it’s called? ‘Balen?’” She hums at his nod and chews her lip before giving him an apologetic, yet barely-there smile. “I don’t think I’m hungry …. Not that it doesn’t look, uh, delicious. Don’t get me wrong.” She shuffles the pouch from one hand to the other. “I’m still really sensitive to the turbulence of the water, so the thought of food right now is making my stomach churn.”

“Oh,” he says, subvocals sounding slightly dejected though he seems to be trying to keep them quiet. Neither says anything before Garrus makes a sharp chirp and smiles when she looks up to him, an eyebrow raised. “Jon spoke about how the rough seas make you ill, so I thought maybe Chloe could have something to help ease your stomach.”

He rumbles and points to the bag, touching it a moment before he jerks his hand back and stutters. “I mean …. I know you could’ve gone to see her yourself …. It’s just that Chloe can be …. You know,” he stammers, rolling his hand as he keeps his eyes away from Jana. “But Chloe is a really skilled herbalist. She’s been a healer for the Normandy for a long time now and she knows her fair share of remedies.”

Finally, his gaze meets Jana’s once more and he clears his throat for a moment. “Anyways, I got you some ginger and licorice root. Chloe says you can make tea from the ginger or chew the licorice root to help with the nausea …. But don’t worry. No one will take offense if you decide to skip dinner. Not many of the other races like balen and turian food can be an … acquired taste.”

Jana smiles softly and nods. “Thanks. I’ll be sure to try these out, but I know it’s not an immediate fix, so I think I’m going to leave everyone to their dinner while I go up top to look at the stars.”

He rumbles curiously but nods with a light flutter of his mandible. “Do you want company? I can wait to eat if you want.”

“No-no,” she says quickly, shaking her head. “No, I’m fine. I like the peace and quiet sometimes. You should stick around and enjoy. It smells delicious.”

He huffs softly and smiles a half-smile. “I’m happy to hear you say that. Turian food takes most some time to get used to. Too spicy for most,” he says in elaboration.

She nods before motioning towards where his parents have arrived from the upper deck, Castis with his wife’s hand tucked into his elbow and his large bird on his shoulder.

“You should catch up with your parents. I’m sure you guys have a lot to talk about now that you’re all together and things have calmed down some,” she says with a smile, hoping Garrus would fall for the distraction.

Humming in consideration long enough for her to start to worry, he finally sighs and gives in, shoulders slumping slightly. “You’re probably right. I haven’t been in Cipritine for a few months. Too busy trying to convince the Council to help establish a unified army to fight the Reapers.” He smiles down at her and rubs his neck. “But, uh …. You should definitely see if you feel better with those herbs Chloe gave you.”

She smiles back, the corner of her lip quirking as she holds up the pouch. “It’s worth a try.”

Leaving him to turn to his family, Jana walks into hers and Tali’s shared cabin in search of a cloak to keep her warm and blanketed against the occasional spritz of salty water when the waves crash especially hard against the Normandy’s hull. It isn’t until she closes the door and walks to her cot to deposit her pouch of remedies to search her chest of clothes that she notices something’s different.

Laying in the center of her pillow is what looks like a mostly closed ring of twisted, shiny gold with two rubies on each end pulled apart just enough to allow a long, sharp bar to swivel through. From experience of her own universe, she can guess it’s a brooch, but she has no idea who dropped it off on her bed for her to obviously find first thing when she returned to her cabin.

She turns the brooch around in her hands, wondering who gave it to her and why. If it was just a clasp for her cloaks or whatnot, she’s sure Jon or whoever bought it would have just given it to her. This feels more like a gift from a secret admirer kind of thing and she frowns, concern washing over her as she lays a hand on her shirt, feeling the bump of her ring beneath her tunic.

Someone must have just not known where to find me and didn’t have the time to look. Probably had the turians pick it up when we docked at Aephus and they chose such a fancy one.

Cloak wrapped around her shoulders, but hood down for the moment, Jana heads up to the top deck of the Normandy for some solitude, taking the brooch with her. In the quiet of a nearly bare deck save for the few crewmen maintaining its sails and navigation, she can think about everything from the little piece of jewelry, to the state of the Reaper invasion, to their possible next destination, to the people she’s meeting along the way.

Well, maybe about one I’ve met in particular ….

When she gets to the uppermost deck, she takes a deep breath of the salty air, closing her eyes a moment. She opens them and takes in the large deck lit only by the torches hung in various places and the meager crew at work. Joker is at the helm just like her own would be and EDI seems to be speaking as her fountain glows various colors like it did when Jana first saw EDI speak.

Jana walks to the railing of the deck, sure to pick a place well out of the way of anyone so she can have both the privacy and to make sure she doesn’t keep the crew from being able to do their jobs. She rests her forearms on the rail and looks out over the horizon, taking in the sight of pitch blackness only pierced by the light of the millions of stars. It’s hard to tell the sea from the sky off in the horizon where the waves seem calmer, the sight like looking into the endless void of space from her own Normandy’s observation decks’ windows.

She doesn’t know how long she’s been staring at the horizon, mindlessly worrying the brooch between her hands before she hears footsteps approaching. Glancing towards the sound, she sees Jon approaching with hands in his official Captain’s jacket as he gazes out at the same sight she’s been contemplating.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks as he moves beside her to lean against the railing, mirroring her as he smiles softly - though if a bit sad though Jana could be just seeing her own emotions reflected in the shadows of his features. “Makes you almost imagine that you could sail right off the world. I can see where people once thought that ….”

Jana hums and looks back out to the place where the sky seems to merge into the ocean. “Yeah, my people thought so a long time ago too.” She huffs in disbelief, giving herself the chance to think about the way her people advanced in technology and science since that time in history as if from an outsider’s viewpoint. “And then we advanced so far that we were flying in space.”

He shakes his head, whispering, “Flying ships ….” He seems to be imagining it for a while before he turns his attention to her continuously moving hands, getting a glimpse of the brooch. When he realizes that he wasn’t as subtle and he possibly intended in his examination, he smiles at her look. “Sorry. I was just surprised by it. It’s quite a piece of jewelry.”

“Yeah ….” She trails off and offers it to him to hold it himself. “I found it on my bed just now. No idea who it’s from or why.”

Quiet save for a low hum as he turns to hold it into the light of the nearest lantern, Jon scrutinizes the brooch intently before his expression softens and he runs his thumb over its twisted surface. “Do you like it? As a possible gift, I mean.”

She takes it back from him and frowns, taking a long look at it as she holds it in the palm of her hand. It’s nearly the size of her palm and heavy, so she thinks it’s solid gold and surely expensive, but there’s something about the gesture that strikes her more than the brooch itself.

“I ….” Reaching for her ring with her other hand, she pulls the necklace from beneath her tunic and lays her hand on the ring as she closed her fingers of her other hand around the brooch. “I’m not sure …. I … went through some hardships.”

She doesn’t elaborate, but she can almost swear that he understands as he nods and takes a long, deep breath. Letting it out slowly, Jon reaches to her and lays a hand on her shoulder.

“Can I tell you a story? You don’t have to say anything back, but I’d like it if I could just … let you hear it,” he says, slowly letting his hand slip away as their eyes meet. “Please, Jana?”

Chewing the inside of her cheek, not sure what he’s going to say or if she’ll be ready to hear it, but nods.

Jon finally smiles in a way where Jana knows there’s a sadness there and he turns to the sight of stars and their mirrored counterparts. “When I was hunting down Saren, I my own Tali’Zorah. She’s different than your Tali, though, but in a more subtle way than you’d think. Tali is still Tali with their strong will and need to help others, but where … my Tali had a quick wit and short temper, yours is calm, generous, and lives to be with friends, to have extended family maybe even more than the quarians she left in your realm?” He holds up a hand and says, “You don’t have to answer that. It’s hard to imagine because you didn’t know her, but trust me when I say that they are the same, but different. You could look at both and say ‘yes, that’s Tali,’ but they aren’t exact copies, which - to me - makes them like two entirely different people ….”

He gives his head a soft shake, saying, “Anyway, I grew close to Tali. She had a father that was nearly impossible to please, but she seemed to like to hear about how I got along with my own mother. Maybe she liked to imagine what it was like to be proud of family, maybe not …. I’m still not sure about what it was she really wanted from those talks.

“It took some time to get her to open up to me even though I had already considered her a good friend and when I found out how strong she was, how much she fought through, I grew an admiration for her …. And then the Collectors attacked the Normandy and sent me and it into the … Void, I guess you could say ….”

Sighing, he takes a moment of silence as if he too still has a hard time imagining the hand fate dealt when the Collectors attacked his ship. Jana, too, has nightmares when she used to let herself drink too heavily, though she isn’t sure if it’s impact has been enhanced by the loss of her husband.

“When I was brought back,” he finally says. “Tali was the first one I tried to contact. As it turned out, she looked to me for direction after the attack and it led her back to her people. I guess because she thought it was what I would do or have wanted … and she was right. I was proud of her, even if it seemed maybe I might never renew that friendship with how the quarians are such a nomadic people and hard to find unless you know where to look.

“But eventually, I found her. We practically ran into each other when I was chasing down potential information of a Collector attack. She was there to rescue a quarian on his Pilgrimage there that had been overlooked by the Collectors while they were too focused on abducting humans.” He shoves one of his hands into his pocket. “She joined me once Veetor was safely with her people and … it was the happiest moment of my life. It felt like another piece of me came together ….”

Jana swallows thickly and gives a weak nod, whispering. “I know what you mean ….”

Jon didn’t push her further, though, simply laying his free hand on her shoulder once more before continuing his story.

“We grew even closer while we prepared my crew and ship for our attack on Skuggagrav - the Collectors’ homelands,” he explains. “So close that I was the only one she turned to when her father was in a dire situation. I regret how long it took us to sail because we lost the chance to save her father and even though they had a shaky relationship, the loss hit Tali hard.

“But it made us finally realize something,” he says softly, dipping his head down to look at the water as it splashes against the hull. He takes a moment to just breathe before letting out a deep breath and starting again. “We didn’t have much time to do all the things we wanted ….”

Pulling his hand from his jacket pocket, he reveals the purple sash Jana’s always seen somewhere on his person since the day she was tossed into this world. Finally, things began to make sense and she frowned, gripping her ring tightly.

“It was small, only in front of a few of her people and my crew, but we managed to have a ceremony where our linked hands were tied with this sash,” he says, running it over his hands. “I hadn’t alerted the Alliance because of my association with Cerberus at the time, but we were married in practice all the same. Nothing would come between us ….”

She can visibly see him swallow as he closed his eyes, hands fisting the purple ceremonial rope.

“But it didn’t matter. Nothing we did to prepare mattered in the end ….” He sniffles ever so slightly, but his expression hardens as he then scowls at the horizon. “I lost my soulmate to some stupid slip in our defenses. We had barely had enough time to get used to our tie before my world was shattered by a single seeker sting.”

It’s Jana’s turn to lay her hand on his shoulder as she musters the courage to speak in his silence. “I … lost my husband and bondmate on the Collector homeworld …. He was my everything ….”

Jon takes a heavy breath, eyes closing as he lays his hand on hers. “I never meant to spy, but there was something in the way you always seem to grasp at your neck that felt so familiar ... because I do it too. It’s all I have of her and I apologize for my assuming it’s the same for you …. I just thought maybe -just maybe - there might be a way we could … pull each other out of this.”

He squeezes her hand and smiles to her, full of sadness, but also seemingly hopeful. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to mourn her this way …. With this isolation.” Turning fully to her, he urges her to do the same and he lays his hands on her shoulders. “We will always love them, but what if … we don’t guard our hearts? What if whatever gods we believe in want something else for us?” Swallowing, he gives her shoulders a squeeze before pulling away and looking down at his sash. “I don’t want to hurt this much anymore ….” He looks her in the eyes and asks, “Do you?”

No ….

Chapter 17: Eden Prime

Chapter Text

A chill wraps the Normandy in a tight grip as they head north towards a part of the ocean, called the Jagged Sea, that divides the Southern Terra and Northern Palaven borders, on their way to the Citadel.

Jana’s surprised by the cold crispness of the salty air because she doesn’t remember it being this cold on her first voyage on the Normandy traveling to the Citadel from the castle Areis on Mars. Perhaps she had been too distracted by the new world - and comfortable in her highly advanced undersuit and N-7 armor which she had worn almost the whole trip - to truly feel the temperature, but she does now, and she feels like maybe she isn’t all that cut out to be human in this realm if this is a glimpse of the region they call home. It may be the near-constant work everyone else seems to find for themselves or maybe they’ve just adapted over time, but they all seem so at ease with the cold and wear what looks like lightly padded clothing instead of the thick cloaks she needs even when she’s within the confines of the Normandy’s decks.

At least the turians aboard seem cold, but they’re doing a helluva job not showing it as much as I’d expect given all of my Garrus’ talk on Noveria.

‘Did I ever tell you turians don’t like the cold …..”

So she keeps mostly to the lower decks, seeing if she can help Jameson, Liara, or other crew members in their daily tasks to distract from the cold. She can tell Tali feels it too because she’s taken to borrowing what few cloaks Jana doesn’t hog to bundle up in, but it seems like Tali’s still wondering curiosity of the antique boat has kept her plenty occupied from freezing into a quarian icicle.

That, or Jon’s been helping her stay warm with cloaks of his own, of which Jana is sure he might have the finest of, being Captain of the ship and all. Jana doesn’t mind and she’s sure she’s been given some good gear, but damn if she doesn’t envy that Captain’s Cabin sometimes.

Maybe not, though ….. It is out in the open on the top deck and right in the wind. Jon would need a damn good fire going to keep it warm.

Sighing, Jana pulls up a layer of tight, light brown trousers that tie together at her waist. It, along with a dark red shirt will only be the first of a multitude of layers she plans to bundle up with before leaving the relative warmth of her and Tali’s small, shared cabin. The setup has kept her relatively warm for the last few days and there isn’t much at sea to do that’ll get them dirty, so she sees no reason messing with what works.

Just as she gets the shirt down over her head, there’s a knock at the door that she knows isn’t Tali because it’s not immediately followed by her friend slipping quickly into the room. Jana makes sure her shirt is situated correctly before approaching the door and opening it to see who’s come calling, not used to being actively looked for since she can’t provide much help to people because of her lack of knowledge of ... pretty much everything around here.

Liara stands in the small hall of the private cabins, dressed in her white robe she takes into combat with its light torso armor and arm guards. Only, she also wears a thick, reddish fur collar around her hood, a short cloak that reaches her lower back to match, and fur around the brims of her armored gloves. It looks like it’ll be just enough to keep warm outside of the vigorous activity of battle, but just barely if the drastically dropping temperature these past few days is any indication of what awaits top deck - or even whatever shore Jana can assume they’ve arrived at.

“Jon says we’re docking at Eden Prime,” Liara says before giving Jana a once over. “He wants us all prepared in armor, but be sure to dress for the cold. Eden Prime is one of the northernmost islands in Terra.”

“Eden Prime?” Jana furrows her brows in confusion. “So we missed the Jagged Sea?”

Liara nods. “We intercepted a raven saying Cerberus was attacking the island days ago, early enough for Jon to order Joker to change course. Jon’s afraid the King’s Fleet won’t be able to send a ship of its own to help them …. And the message said Cerberus is after something very important.”

“But not what?”

Liara shakes her head. “No. Which means it’s sensitive enough to want to keep secret from any possible interception of the messages. You should get ready for anything.”

Nodding, Jana steps back to close the door. “I’ll meet everyone down in the cargo hold. Does Tali know?”

“Yes, she’s aware. She’s borrowing some of my furs,” Liara says before taking her leave, off to retrieve her rose headed staff and make her own final preparations, no doubt.

Jana doesn’t bother changing out of the clothes she’s already wearing, choosing to cover them instead with another layer before finally pulling on her gambeson and armor pieces. She can finally use the fur collar that was originally a part of the complete armor - but way too impractical in the heat of Palaven - and practically purrs at the warmth around her neck, snuggling her cheek into the softness for a moment before leaving to fetch her weapons.

In the cargo hold, Sybill and Bettrice are gearing up Jon and the others’ horses for the cold with thick blankets that even extend to cover their head and neck. Some of the turian soldiers have come down to join Jameson, Liara, and Tali in readying their weapons, cloaked in thick furs, hoods, and cloth masks over their mouths to keep in the warmth their metal armors are bound to be cooling. Many of them have a heavy cloak draped over their wings and Jana’s sure that the few horses left in the stalls won’t be able to carry the heavy weight of a turian in full armor, so she’s curious what their plans are for battle now that it seems that their biggest advantage has been taken away due to the cold now that they’ve bound them up against the weather.

Tali is waiting for Jana when she makes her way to the rack of their weapons and, just as Liara said, she’s equipped herself with a fur collar and thick robe to combat the chill, both in a dark green that contrasts well with the purple in her suit. She hands Jana her sword first, waiting for her to strap the sheath around her hips before offering the large shield next.

Although she’s been practicing with it while the Normandy’s been at sea, the shield is still unwieldy for Jana’s smaller frame, but she feels like her efforts in strengthing her arms will pay off and allow her to move easier on the battlefield. She still wants to spend what little money she has in getting a smaller shield Jon has called a ‘buckler’ because, by its description, it sounds much more suited to her developing style of quick attacks and dodges over the more aggressive blocking and parrying Jon is more accustomed to.

“They said it’s snowing out there,” Tali says as Jana slips the shield around her shoulder. “I miss heated suits already,” she adds with a visible, if exaggerated, shiver.

Jana chuckles and jerks a chin towards the turians huddled together and seemingly talking to one another by the slight movement of their heads and hand gestures. She sees Garrus there, moving in this way to a soldier that must be a high-ranking officer by the intricacy of his cobalt and silver cloak and elegant plume on top of his open-faced helmet.

Garrus is dressed in his black armor, but he’s added quite a bit of new articles of clothing in anticipation of their arrival at Eden Prime. Unlike the others, his wings are uncovered, but he has to be wearing enough fur and extra clothing to protect a whole other turian besides himself.

His hood is already pulled up, lined with fur that’s almost silver by the way it transitions from gray at the roots to an ivory color at its tips, and a mask covers his face from just below his eyes and over his nose, mouth, and mandibles. She isn’t sure what kind of animal the unique fur could have come from, but it’s thick enough that it can fill the inner curve of his cowl. It looks as if he’s wrapped another swathe of the fur around his broad shoulders, held together against his keel with a large, circular clasp with some kind of insignia etched into its surface that Jana can’t quite make out from where she stands. A cloak connects to the collar and drapes just enough down his back to settle between his wings and past the largest curve of his back, anything longer being more detrimental and cumbersome when he takes flight - which she can assume he will with his wings bare as they are.

More of the fur is wrapped around his hips to keep his upper legs warm and it peeks from the tops of his boots which are now close-toed to keep Garrus’ feet from the freezing snow. Even his gloves now have their own fur additions and his fingers are now covered where he usually had them as bare as his toes, leaving Jana to wonder if it’ll affect his aim.

Something makes her think it won’t. She doubts someone with his skill would let gloves get in the way of a perfect shot.

He just wouldn’t be Garrus, no matter what universe he’s in. I’d bet what little money I have on it.

The entire ensemble gives his naturally lithe frame additional bunk she isn’t used to seeing him with, but she can only imagine how turians react to snow without advanced suits like in her reality. It gives her an entirely new appreciation for the turians of this world knowing they’re planning on going outside of the relative warmth of the Normandy to fight the cold on an island in - according to the context clues of Liara’s statement - the frigid northernmost regions of Alysim.

Jon is already geared up as he climbs down the stairs, pulling on his helmet and shifting his collar of dark sienna fur on his armored shoulders to lay closer to his neck. He gives them a nod as he approaches, waiting for Garrus to break away from the other turians and join them as Jon addresses the group.

“You’re wrapped up,” he says, looking over Tali and Jana before giving a nod. “Good. It’s snowing out there, but visibility is still good and there doesn’t seem to be any storms on the horizon. I won’t lie and say it won’t be cold, but we aren’t going to have to worry about the wind fighting us for every step.”

“Still cold as the Void,” Garrus says with a low hum. “You never take us anywhere nice. I hear Kahje has great weather for soaking in the sun for hours on end while listening to the sound of the ocean.”

Jon laughs. “I’ll be sure to remember that for a shore leave one day.”

“Count me in,” Jameson says before patting his prized bear cloak. “Might have to hold back on this though.” He pauses a moment before apparently changing his mind. “You know what? Nah …. I think I’ll take Terra over Kahje. Who needs sand and sun when you got a fire going in the hearth, a hearty stew cooking, and a tankard of spiced mead to keep you warm?”

God, that sounds amazing right about now …. Even though I don’t even know what ‘mead’ taste like.

“Well, keep those thoughts in your head to keep you warm while we’re out there.” Jon motions to the turians standing in waiting near the opening for one of the gangplanks and glances over to Garrus. “Will your men be joining us? We should leave some to guard the ship and your parents ….”

Garrus nods with an agreeing rumble. “They’re staying. The Normandy is important and we know Cerberus. I don’t want any slipping past us and trying to take the ship. Especially not with my parents on board. If any of the Cerberus ships out there in the water come close, our soldiers can take to the skies and attack before the ships will even be able to lower their sails.”

“Good idea,” Jon agrees as his gaze moves to the now saddled and ready horses. “We’ll take it slow on the horses so you and your Praetorians can keep up, whether in the skies or on foot. I’m afraid that none of the other horses can carry the weight of a fully armored turian while trekking through the snow.”

Garrus huffs once before glancing at the other turians and giving a slight shake of his head. “Mierin and Sidonis are staying here with the others. They’ll be commanding their relative guard, she the Cabal unit and he the others. It’s the only way I could convince my father to remain with the Normandy. It’s like he’s got a vendetta against Cerberus with how adamant he was about getting into a fight with them.” He sighs and his following rumble sounds exasperated. “I think I owe it solely to you that he isn’t planning on joining us with his men as we take to the shore.”

Jon smiles wide and crosses his arms. “You’re father’s a smart man. He knows that protecting the Normandy from being overtaken while at the port is more logical than bombarding the island with a small army when we don’t even know how many Cerberus soldiers remain.” His expression shifts to something more serious and somber. “It’s been days since we intercepted that raven calling for help and as much as I hate to think it, there may not be many left on Eden Prime still holding them off.”

The group is quiet as Garrus rumbles in understanding and nods. Horses are handed over to their riders as the crew lowers the gangplank to allow the turians to take point, getting the first glimpse of the docks. Jon motions with his head to mount the horses and follow the initial group of disembarking turians when they don’t give the immediate sign of there being danger awaiting them.

Exiting the Normandy and hearing the lonely sound of hooves softly thudding on the wet planks of the docks, Jana can see that Jon may very well be right - that there may not be anyone left fighting against Cerberus. The port looks like it’s been ransacked with cargo smashed open and tossed aside to float in the frothy waters and ropes that had obviously been anchoring ships to the docks hanging limply against the beams as crew simply cut the ties for a quick escape. Only a few ships remain, some abandoned and covered in snow like ghost ships and other, much more menacing looking ships that are flying flags of blazing orange three-headed hounds against a diagonal black and white background.

“Cerberus,” Jameson says with a grimace and curses something before shifting and spitting into the nearby water.

Jon hums and draws up his horse’s reins. “Let’s get going …. There might be some holdouts.”

“Let the Goddess be with them,” Liara adds as she follows Jana, Jameson taking the rear.

Garrus walks beside the group, for now, their progression slow enough that he can keep up with them as they travel the more downtrodden path in the snow leading into a large city that could have been beautiful before Cerberus must have put it to the torch. The snow has since started to mask the charred remains of wooden buildings and their stone foundations, but there is still smoke in the air from fires still smoldering somewhere in the city.

Tali, on the back of Jon’s horse, makes a soft gasp and turns her head away from her left and Jana can’t help but look, regretting it just as she takes in the shapes just barely peeking from beneath the snow. Cerberus had been massacring people in the streets as they ran from burning houses, cutting down man and woman alike, adults and children. The barely covered bodies are a testament to that.

“Garrus,” Jon says, looking away from the pair of frozen bodies of a mother and her small child that haven’t been completely covered by the falling snow. “Take to the sky and see if you can see anything. Any survivors.”

Garrus doesn’t speak as he flicks his mandibles, spreads his wings, and kicks off the ground to let his large wings catch the air and propel him upwards. He leaves them, his shadow skating down the large road cutting through the city before them as he scouts ahead. Jon doesn’t need to speak or give the signal for the rest of them to follow, keeping their horses slow and quiet so they can be ready for any kind of noise from the dead city.

Jana can see some places that the fire hadn’t completely destroyed where people had cordoned off alleys between buildings, creating barricades where it looks like they made their last stands when they couldn’t outrun the attackers. There are buildings made mostly of brick and stone where it looks like people huddled close while a handful of guards or otherwise armored citizens tried to hold Cerberus off, but it seems like most of the city either perished in the streets trying to flee or - as it took Jana a bit of thinking to realize - attempting to seek refuge deeper into the city towards a triplet of towers.

When Garrus returns, he’s as quiet as a whisper and lands lightly on the stone of a large, but merely decorative wall around the remains of a larger sized home. He flicks his wings to rid them of any remaining flecks of snow and points towards the towers.

“There’s a good number of citizens and Eden guard holding the Duke’s castle and they need help,” he says quickly before lifting off his stone perch. “Cerberus has them against the wall.”

Jon reins up his horse in a half-turn towards the others. “Then we fight for them.” He pulls his sword from its sheath with a long, metallic swish of metal against the sharpening rods built into the leather scabbard. “Garrus, go to their aid.”

Garrus doesn’t wait for the others as he’s off with a strong flap of his wings, taking to the dreary skies once more. Jon gives them a quick once over before turning his horse towards the castle and giving it a harsh kick as he points the tip of his golden sword forward. Jana and the others follow suit, urging their horses into a gallop as Jameson gives a wordless shout of anticipation.

The main road of Eden Prime is paved with mismatched cobblestone and it clacks beneath the horses’ metal shoes on their hooves as they gallop. The animals snort as they charge around the bend, the castle’s walls now visible in the distance where soldiers clad in dark armor and orange cloaks bash against the barred gates, archers and mages sending attacks at the defenders stationed on the walls used ranged weapons and attacks in retaliation.

Garrus attacks from the skies, catching some of Cerberus’ attention, but Jana can see that the gates have taken a beating. It seems like the Normandy made it to the island just in time because the large, wooden gates don’t look like they could’ve taken much more damage from Cerberus’ battering ram.

Cerberus soldiers left useless at the moment without a foe to fight with their swords, shields, and other close combat weapons leave the battering ram to its work and divert their attention to Jon’s group that’s rapidly approaching. Jana pulls her sword from its sheath at her side and slashes down at the snarling hound helmet of an axe-wielding soldier and manages to catch him across the chest and head, knocking him down. She pulls Alfi around and charges through the throng of soldiers again for another attack, thrusting her blade into the back of a soldier Liara’s stunned with her magic.

Distancing herself from the battle after trampling a robed hound in her way, Jana pulls Alfi into a stop and dismounts. She knows someone’s protecting her from any attack as she grabs her shield from its place against her saddle, but she isn’t sure who. By the whistles in the air, she’s sure it’s either Tali or Garrus with their bows, but she doesn’t have time to seek them out and give thanks as she rushes back to the battle.

Eden Prime’s defenders have joined in the fight, city guard and adequately armed citizens who must have at least some knowledge in fighting flooding out of the slightly opened, shattered gates to protect the others still taking refuge in the castle’s walls. It’s easy for Jana to recognize Cerberus forces even in such a hectic battle with their snarling dog helms on every one of their men no matter if they’re wearing the heavy armor of soldiers, lighter suits for archers, or robes of mages.

In the midst of battle against a helmeted soldier wielding a large greatsword similar to the one Ashlin had fought with, Jana feels the force of a projectile hitting her in the shoulder of her sword arm, knocking her back a step. She manages to lift her shield up as she spins away from a heavy blow and doesn’t have time to check her shoulder before she uses her shield to push forward. She breaks into her attacker’s space, taking advantage of their heavy weapon’s recovery time before she uses her momentum to shove her shield aside, knocking them off-kilter so she can go in for a crippling blow. Forgoing their massive sword, she aims for their knee and slashes, putting all her effort into it to compensate for the stiffness her shoulder injury is causing.

The blade slices across the side of the Cerberus soldier’s knee guard before sinking into the flesh of the back of the joint and they collapse, groaning at the pain as scarlet flows down their leg. Shouting, Jana bashes them with her shield to knock them down while they’re crippled before giving the final blow to end their misery. It gives her an opening to check her person and take a look at her shoulder’s situation.

An arrow juts from the armor of her shoulder guard right where the plates overlap. She doesn’t feel the intense pain of the arrowhead nor does she see blood, telling her she’s not injured, so she grabs the arrow and tugs hard to dislodge it before tossing it aside.

The sharp whistle of an arrow flies by her head, followed by a very close grunt and clatter of someone stumbling. She quickly spins and instinctively sets her shield in front of her to guard against attack, but the Cerberus soldier before her already sports two arrows in his chest before another flies over her and into the snarling mouth of his helm to finally finish him off.

She lowers her shield and looks back to find the archer and smiles softly as Garrus lands at her side, nocking an arrow but lowering his bow to get close to ask, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she says with a nod, patting her shoulder plates. “I’m good.”

He looks her over before giving her his own nod. “Good.”

She prides herself on not flinching at the sound of his arrow whistling so close to her ear as it fires at someone behind her and she glances back, assuming whoever it had been has fallen before she can get a look at them. Even seeing his lightning-fast movement of aiming and letting it go in one breath as well as her complete confidence in his skill, the sound still gets a reaction out of her instincts much like firing guns did when she was much younger and in her first few years with the Alliance.

“They’re withdrawing,” Tali shouts as she points as some fleeing Cerberus running down the path in hopes of disappearing in the destroyed city.

“Not if we can help it!” A group of Eden Prime’s survivors takes off after them and Jon holds out his hand to keep Jameson from following.

“There’s only a handful left .... and they’re already wounded,” he says as he turns to the castle. “We need a better idea of what’s happening on the rest of the island.”

“You there!” a man from the castle’s defense walls calls down, a woman beside him putting Jon in her bow’s sights. “Name yourselves in the name of the Duke!”

“Sod the Duke. You don't see him still here fighting in the sh*t,” a gruff woman says as she kicks a Cerberus soldier that’s fallen over another, checking to see if they’re dead. She wears a heavy set of armor with a green and blue cloak and has a bandage wrapped around her forehead and stretching to cover a wound on her left cheek while leaving her eye uncovered. “You fought with us,” she says as she approaches Jon, lowering her mace but still keeping it ready for a quick attack. “And you aren’t wearing Cerberus colors, so I’ll ask this. Are you friend or foe?”

“Friend,” Jon says, sheathing his sword as a sign of good faith and Jana follows suit, seeing Tali and Liara do the same while Garrus and Jameson visibly lower and hold their weapons in a manner that reads more casual than the woman’s. “I’m Templar Shepard, Captain in the King’s Fleet.”

The woman visibly blinks and turns her head slightly to the side, as if moving to get a different look at Jon. “Templar Jon Shepard? Of the Normandy?” She lets out a long breath when he nods and finally sheaths her mace on a metal loop on a belt slung around her armored hips. “I’m …. I guess you could say I’m Captain of the guard now with the old Captain dead …. Name’s Kessler, Luisa Kessler. I would say you arrived just in time, but,” she starts with a sneer as she motions the battered gates and too few guards and refugees within the castle’s walls, “we can all see that’d be a lie.”

Jon frowns and dips his head. “And for that, I am truly sorry. We sailed as fast as we could.” Lifting his head, he asks, “Were those the only Cerberus forces left? The ships at the docks seem more suited to a small army.”

The Captain shifts their mouth as if she’s running her tongue along her teeth before she spits on the lightly snow-covered ground beside some fallen Cerberus bodies. “They’ve moved on from here,” she says as she glances back at her survivors. “It doesn’t seem like they came here just for us …. I reckon they’ve been after the Academy and what those archeologists found in the Prothean tomb.”

“Prothean tombs?” Liara’s eyes widen as she looks between Jon and Captain Kessler. “I hadn’t heard of any findings or Prothean dig sites here on Eden Prime.”

“Probably because they wanted to keep it a secret,” Kessler says as co*cks a hip, putting a fist to her hip, “since we all know how the last time turned out.”

Liara frowns and Jana can see the muscles at her jaw tense. “That wasn’t the Council’s fault. Saren-”

“Please,” Jon interrupts, holding out a placating hand to Liara and she relaxes slightly, though not without giving the Captain another slight glare. “We’re more interested in where Cerberus has gone.”

“I apologize,” Liara says softly and he nods in understanding but doesn’t speak further, giving Captain Kessler a chance to continue explaining the situation.

“Grissom Academy is to the northwest of here. The scholars took whatever they found from the tomb there to study it, but also keep it secret. I only know about it from rumors going around among the higher ranked in the guard here. ‘Be careful for any Council ships poking their noses around here,’ my Captain said and I figured the rest out for myself.” She clears her throat and spits again, the foamy saliva tinged with some streaks of fresh, bright blood. “Figure Cerberus will be after the kids at the Academy if not that.”

“Perhaps both.” Garrus hums and looks to Jon. “We should follow in their tracks, send the Normandy to circle the island and wait for us. We can take any survivors aboard, but maybe even manage to intercept Cerberus as they’re trying to take whatever your archeologists found.”

Jon nods and waves the others towards their horses waiting just out of the reaches of the previous battle. “We’ll ride fast, try to catch up. Captain,” he says, turning to her as Jameson, Tali, and Liara rush over to collect the horses. “Do you have a spare raven or messenger bird?”

“No,” the burly woman says, but jerks her chin towards the castle. “We sent everything we had over the days to call for anyone who could help. I can send a man to your ship, though. With Cerberus run off thanks to you, I feel it’s safe enough for someone to slip through to the docks without being attacked.”

Jon hums and Jana clears her throat in request to speak. When he looks to her and nods she looks at the Captain with her idea.

“Send someone who isn’t bogged down by armor,” Jana explains. “Maybe even someone with little to no armor. They’d be faster and, if there are any Cerberus stragglers, then they can easily outrun them or find a place to hide without armor taking up too much space or slowing them down. Hell, they’ll be quieter too so Cerberus might not even know they’re sneaking back on the back streets.”

The Captain seems to think it over before nodding. “I just might take that advice,” she says before completely turning to her men spread among the bodies, gathering weapons, shields, and spare parts of armor before dragging the bodies out of the direct way of the gates. “You get going to the Academy - if you truly think you’d be doing any good. I still don’t think we’re outta the woods yet, so I’m going to gather my men and find a way to rebuild the gates quickly before we see any more Cerberus coming to finish us off.” She waves Jon off when he opens his mouth to speak. “I’ll get a man to your ship. Don’t worry, Templar.”

She starts to step over bodies towards the castle before stopping as Jon and the others are mounting their horses. “Oh,” she says, turning back to them, “Good luck. Maybe there’ll still be some kids holed up you can save. I’m not normally so optimistic, but maybe, this time, I’ll be wrong.”

“Have faith,” Jon says, drawing his horse to start walking around the bodies and through the path the city guard has started to make. “If we don’t have faith, then we only have the horrors of the world.”

With a final once over to check that the others are ready - only Garrus left to follow by air because of his lack of mount - Jon kicks his horse into a run. He keeps from pushing them into a full gallop to save the horses’ energy for the extent of the distance they need to cover, but they’re at a speed that’s certainly faster than a walk or trot.

Hopefully, the horses have enough strength to keep at this run and make the distance. Jon must know their limits and the distance to the Academy, but it’d cause a lot more problems if we can’t get there in time because we’ve burned out the poor animals.

Let’s just hope you know what you’re doing, Jon.

Chapter 18: Grissom Academy

Chapter Text

Grissom Academy was unlike any other castle Jana has seen in her journeys thus far thanks to its four towers making up its right side with their heights descending from the tallest at the end to the last one just above the level of the castle’s roof where it connects. The towers wind inward like large stepping stones into the sky and Jana can’t help staring at the pillars of smoke billowing from the towers’ windows.

“I sure hope the students escaped in time,” Liara says softly as they gaze at the fires, slowing their horses cautiously so as not to alert any of the attackers that may still remain.

Jon is quiet as he takes in the state of the castle, the others left to watch his back as he stoically guides his horse towards the large, but destroyed doors of the Academy just beyond the battered fountain in its courtyard. Jana can’t quite tell what it used to be, but it just goes to show that Cerberus had no qualms about destroying everything in this place - somewhere that should have been safe for the students within.

All for some kind of Prothean artifact?

Jon pulls his horse to a stop and holds up a fist, halting the group without a word and they just listen, trying to pinpoint any sign of life, good or bad. He must either hear something or find a reason to better explore the Academy because he dismounts his horse, helping Tali climb off after. As the others follow his lead, he retrieves his weapons and puts them in place, his sword settled on his hip and his shield slung behind his back.

“Where do you think we should start looking for survivors?” Jana asks as she steps beside Jon, his attention still on the devastated state of the castle interior they can just see from their distance. “Would a castle like this have a safe room or something?”

He’s quiet for a long time before making a humming sound that seems like he’s thinking it over. “I’m not sure,” he finally admits before turning to check that everyone is off their horses and ready to explore the remains. “We’ll explore the main areas of the castle, see if we can figure out where they would’ve wanted this Prothean artifact. If anything, we can always take down any remaining Cerberus soldiers while we’re here.” He lets out a deep, saddened sigh. “We can only hope we’ll find clues of any remaining survivors hiding somewhere.”

“Gonna be hard.” Jameson frowns as they head up the large stone steps into the castle’s main entrance. “If they’re hiding from Cerberus, you can bet they’re not going to be easy to find.”

“Maybe they could have some way of seeing who’s entering the castle? Some kind of surveillance?” Tali looks at Jana. “Something like it?”

“We’ll see,” is all Jon says as he steps over a downward-facing, robed body surrounded by some of what must be Academy’s defenders judging by their various shades of red robes.

“Red ….” Liara frowns as she uses the tip of her staff to nudge a hood to better cover a wide-eyed face of a dead magician. “These were teachers and headmasters.”

Garrus shakes his head. “They should have had armed guards here. I don’t know about this place too well, but if all they had were instructors for protection-”

“This place is supposed to be a more isolated facility,” Jon interrupts with a sigh and shake of his head. “Students were to learn in peace and safety from any harm that may have had a chance to follow them. So it was kept secret …. Having guards that aren’t loyal to what was being taught here wouldn’t have a reason not to sell out the Academy.”

“Not unless someone already here did,” Jana says solemnly and Jon dips his head in realization, the others choosing not to speak.

Trying to keep her eyes off the undeserving dead at her feet, Jana catches a glimpse of light flickering down a darkened hallway branching off from the main room and heading deeper into the castle’s eerily dark depths. She lays a hand on Jon’s shoulder and points wordlessly, suspicious of the light and worried that it may be coming from a torch not likely to be in the hands of a student or instructor.

Jon withdraws his sword slowly to cut back on the sound of the sharpening stones within the sheath but holds up a hand to still the others. “It could be friendly …. Garrus? Can you see more than the light?”

Garrus rumbles and takes a silent step around to the front of the group and makes a soft hum, glancing back at Jon. “You’re not going to believe it, but it’s just a light …. There’s no torch. Nothing but the light.”

“Maybe it’s a signal?” Liara whispers, taking her staff in hand and pointing the flower of its tip towards the hallway. The rose of her staff glimmers before the orb of light grows brighter and she smiles, lowering her staff. “It’s a seeing light. A small bit of magic some can use to have a sort of … disembodied sight. I gave it some of my power to check and I can feel the caster is close.”

“Can you tell if they’re a student, master, or Cerberus trying to seek out any survivors?” Jon asks, motioning with his chin at the light that’s slowing flickering but hasn’t moved, as if waiting. “Has it picked up on us yet?”

“I don’t know,” Liara says with an apologetic frown. “I can say that it knows we’re here by either its own sight or because I linked with it for that short moment.”

“ Se ,” Jameson says lowly, pointing towards the light that’s making an odd pulsing as it changes color from a soft white to a bright, almost blinding yellow.

It’s moved from where it had been barely visible past a corner of the wall leading off the hallway but hasn’t come any closer. It merely floats in the middle of the hall before them, as if waiting.

“Should we follow it?” Tali asks, lifting on her toes to see better down the long hallway. “It seems, I don’t know … friendly ….”

Jon nods but doesn’t put his sword away. “My instincts are saying the same thing. But be on guard. We don’t know what we’ll be walking into.”

Slowly, he begins to lead the way down the darkened hall where the torches along the walls have been extinguished. None of them move to light them again, but it quickly becomes obvious that they’re losing what little light from the main room that just manages to illuminate the very start of the hall.

Even when they get closer to the orb of light for Jana to be able to place its size as just bigger than a dinner plate with fluid, wispy edges, it doesn’t give them enough light to see much further ahead. Without better visibility, she feels the very obvious possibility that they may be walking straight into an ambush.

“Is there any way to make it easier to see?” Tali whispers, perhaps even more burdened by the darkness with her tinted mask meant to filter harsh radiation from alien planets in their reality and not to lend well to being able to see in the dark halls of an ancient castle.

“I can see further down the way,” Garrus says, motioning to his face beneath his hood with his hand. “Better eyesight ….”

“You might need to lead then.” Jon stops and turns to the others and it’s then that Jana can see the slight glimmer of light in the orb within his sword where the blade meets the handle in its unique design. Still, she knows it’s not strong enough to help him see. “I can barely see, but I think we’re getting close to another chamber. I can just see a pinpoint of light deeper down the hall and I want you to make sure we aren’t walking into a trap.”

Nodding, Garrus moves to the front and begins to follow the magical orb. It moves a bit faster the closer they get to the growing pinprick of light at the end of the hall as if growing impatient, and Jana can feel the hairs on the back of her neck prickling in anticipation. She lays her hand on the handle of her sword just in case but also to feel the calming comfort of its rigid shape against her gloved palm.

Just as Jon figured, the orb does indeed lead them into another chamber, though this one is much smaller than the main room just within the entrance to the castle. There are only a few bodies littering the room and Jana’s happy to see that the handful of corpses seem to be Cerberus only, making her believe that whoever fought them back managed to escape to somewhere safe.

Perhaps they’re the ones who sent out the light?

Most of them jump in surprise when the orb glows brighter, rises in the air of the center of the room, and grows in size as its circular shape dissipates, bathing the room in its light. It remains even after Jana’s eyes grow accustomed to the ample light and she looks around the chamber it’s led them into.

There’s a mosaic on the ceiling of what looks like a gathering of different human mages in the castle’s grounds, seemingly divided into groups of wielders of the four elements judging by the magic they seem to be imbuing into the partially-constructed castle. Before them stands a man with a scroll held high in his hands and shapes of what has to be hundreds of children surround the mages, their hands linked and glowing. It’s upon closer inspection that Jana can see beams of light filtering in at these points through holes letting in the daylight, even as faint as it is due to the storm.

“It’s a depiction of Grissom bringing together the masters who helped build this castle,” Liara says with a slight smile. “It’s the first truly safe place where human children could be taught to use their magic and a crowning achievement of humanity. My people didn’t immediately understand because we all have the capacity to harness magic, but I’ve met some people who this school has helped greatly ….” She frowns and looks away from the ceiling and away from Jana’s eye contact. “We all knew someone who would tell stories of what humanity did to their magic-gifted children. It wasn’t good ….”

Kaidan and Jump Zero ….

“Liara,” Jon says, calling all of their attention to one of the sets of double doors in the set of four - not including the small archway set within the center of two that led in from the hall and slightly interfered with the visual effect of the room.

All of the double doors sat at each point of the compass with the one in question carved with water and aquatic imagery. The only thing odd about the door was that it’s one of two that are covered in a shimmering barrier that seems to be keeping it magically locked by the way he lays a hand on it, not able to break through it to actually touch the wood surface. “Can you see what you can do to get this open?”

Liara nods and steps to the doors, raising a hand and her staff with the other. She closes her eyes and a soft glimmer flickers over her as she concentrates.

“There’s knowledge behind these doors …. All of them ….” She whispers to no one in particular. “And life.” She opens her eyes and looks at Jon, the blue glow fading from her magically lit eyes as she opens them wide in surprise. “There are people hiding inside, Jon. I think they’re students …. Scared students.”

Nodding, Jon sheaths his sword. “Can you tell what’s behind that one?” he asks and points to the doors to their immediate right, carved with imagery of stones and earthen elements also covered in a shimmery barrier. “More students?”

“Why would they separate?” Garrus asks with a rumble as he looks between the two magically sealed doors.

Suddenly, a voice speaks from the door engraved with aquatic themes. “Whoever you are,” it says, feminine but distorted by the magic used to project its sound, “there is nothing here for you but sorrow and death. You will find nothing of worth to pillage.”

Jon holds a hand up to the others and walks to the door as if whoever is within can hear him. “We aren’t scavengers here to steal from the Academy while it’s in this state,” he says with a hand to his chest. “My name is Templar Jon Shepard, Captain with the King’s Fleet. We’re here because we had intercepted one of your ravens sent for help.”

“I know you.” The voice softens a moment before strengthening but no longer carrying that tone of suspicion and hint of distaste at the idea of scavengers coming to pick clean the remains of the Academy. “Do you know an Admiral Anderson?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jon says with a slight laugh and dips his head. “I owe much to him. Now, please, tell us what you can of the situation here. Are you hurt? Are there others with you?”

“Hold on.”

After a long silence, the barrier shielding the door fades before seeming to break with a faint sparkle of light. The doors open as it dissipates, revealing an instructor of the Academy judging by her deep red robes. Her blonde hair is short but pulled back from her face beneath her hood that she slowly lowers. Behind her, Jana can see children varying in ages from teens to school age.

“I’m Cateline Sanders,” the woman says, giving Jon and the others a close look with her pale blue eyes. “I’m an … adviser here.” She frowns and lowers her voice, adding, “Perhaps one of the last remaining if not the only remaining one.”

“I’m sorry,” Jon says before looking into the room where Jana can see shelves upon shelves of books and tables where the students can read whatever they’ve found within the library. “Are any of your students hurt?”

“Just some bumps and bruises,” Advisor Cateline says with a slight shake of her head before rubbing the knuckles of one of her hands with her other fingers, worrying her hands. “We’ll be alright, but we’re in no condition to fight our way out of here when Cerberus returns.”

Jon’s brows furrow in confusion. “Would they risk coming back to try and break your barrier? We haven’t been quiet upon entering here, so perhaps they’ve changed their plans and intend to make a quick escape with whatever it is they’ve found here.”

Cateline frowns and looks away. “Our students,” she whispers. “They’re taking our students …. And they’re also after that thing the masters have in there,” she adds with a motion of her chin to the other sealed door. “I had one of the students seal it with their magic, but he’s not an expert mage. Powerful enough magic can break the barrier, letting Cerberus into the Conservatory.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Jon says as he looks back to her from the glimmering door, raising an eyebrow. “What is in there? What would Cerberus be willing to chance coming back for?”

Advisor Cateline crosses her arms and lets out a long, deep breath through her nose. “Some archeologists found something in the nearby prothean tomb. They found something and brought it here, sealing it in the Conservatory so they can examine it, try to reveal its secrets.”

“Prothean?” Liara seems to perk up at the word and steps closer to the sealed door, laying a hand on the barrier. “Do you know what it was?”

“By the looks?” Cateline raises a brow when Liara glances her way. “A sarcophagus-”

“They found a dead prothean?” Jameson interrupts. “Maker ….” He notices everyone’s gaze and smiles apologetically. “Sorry.”

Cateline drops her defensive stance and reaches out a hand to Jon. “Please, I need help getting what few students remain off Eden Prime and somewhere they’ll be safe.”

Jon nods and motions to the room of children with his chin. “Are they the only survivors?”

“No,” Cateline says, stepping back and laying her fingertips to her right temple. “I have the ability to sense magic users and I can sense a very familiar, unique user. It’s one of our Master Instructors.”

“Can you sense where they might be?” Jana asks, wondering just what Cateline means by ‘unique’ and what kind of magic would qualify. “So we can have a direction at least?”

Cateline nods and turns slightly towards her students. “She’s in the exterior courtyards behind the castle, where we have our gardens. Seanne,” she calls and a young student no older than fourteen or so breaks away from the chatting students, coming over. “I need you to create another guiding light for Templar Shepard and his people,” Cateline explains to the girl with light brown hair loose around her shoulders, if a bit toustled from whatever she’s gone through. “They need to get outside, to the gardens. Can you do that?”

The girl, who Jana has just now realized is holding a hand to her side as if injured, considers the task before giving a nod. “Yes, ma’am. I think I can make it that far.”

“Very good,” Jon says with a nod. “Advisor Cateline, get back in the library and seal yourselves in. If Cerberus comes back, do everything you can to keep that barrier up. Perhaps you can discourage them if it’s too much effort to get the door open and they’ll move on to the Conservatory’s barrier.”

“Templar,” the woman calls out as Jon turns to follow the returned orb of light. When he looks back at her, she holds a hand out to the library and her students huddled together, uncertainty obvious in their posture. “We still need to get off the island. Grissom Academy doesn’t have horses we can ride to town nor a ship. And if we did, surely Cerberus would have already thought of it.”

“The Normandy should be in the water by now,” Garrus says with a hum. “If we could steal a few shore boats, we can make it there. If they’re flying Cerberus colors in any way, I’ll go to the Normandy and explain. Might even get Joker to close the distance.”

“Good idea.” Jon’s gaze returns to Cateline and he smiles softly. “We’ll find the remaining instructor and students, return here to ensure they’re safe with you, then head back out to the docks to see if we can secure some boats.”

Cateline nods and smiles back. “Sounds like the best plan we can have in these circ*mstances.” Motioning her student, Seanne, back into the library alongside her, Cateline adds a final, “Good luck, Shepard.”

“Jon,” Liara wishes as they start for the exit to the chamber. “What about the prothean artifact? Cerberus is obviously after it for some reason. Perhaps they know something we don’t?”

“More like they hear the word ‘prothean’ and automatically think it’s valuable,” Garrus says with a soft scoff. “Liara, it’s a coffin . What else is going to be in there but bones?”

“It’s not a ‘coffin,’ it’s a sarcophagus ,” Liara retorts. “I’m still an archeologist, remember? I know the value of any kind of prothean artifact. Even if it is just remains, think of all the knowledge you can learn from the way it’s been preserved, the garments it’s been entombed with, if there are any distinguishing qualities of the individual-”

“Maker, please ,” Jameson says with a whine. “Please stop. We get it. You want to study it. But it’s behind a sealed door. Do you really think you can get in there?” He holds his arms out. “Because there sure aren’t any other mages with us and Cateline made it pretty obvious she wants nothing to do with the thing.”

Liara is quiet a moment before looking at Jon’s armored back. “Jon …” she says softly, pleadingly, “ please …. If we can find a way inside, we must take anything we can. It’s a matter of advancement for all of Eros, not just Terra. Jon?”

“We’ll cross that bridge in time,” Jon finally answers, not turning back as he walks, steadily following the orb of light. “First, the students and safety.” Looking around the hall, he speaks out, though Jana can immediately tell it’s not intended for the immediate group. “Can you speed this light up? We can keep up.”

There’s no response, either from the magician or orb itself, and Jon huffs. Glancing back over his shoulder he says, “Let’s see if this thing can keep up. We’re in a hurry.”

“Right behind you,” Jana says with a nod, knowing the others are in agreement.

Jon gives a firm nod before starting a quick jog, the others close behind. Surprisingly, the orb does speed up to keep ahead of them and Jana knows their armor’s noise won’t lend to a silent approach, but she knows they don’t have the time for stealth. Not when there are holdouts who need backup.

As two large, slightly off-kilter doors with what must have been windows taking up the top third of their size - the glass long since smashed out - tower before them, Jameson slips to the front beside Jon. The two men charge with their shoulders, breaking the doors completely from their already damaged hinges. The wood makes a soft thud in the high snow bordering the trodden path left behind from the Cerberus attackers and fleeing mages.

Drawing their weapons, Jana hears the loud crack of thunder that can’t be natural in its isolated appearance further down the corridor left between immaculately groomed hedges and elegant statues. Her only guess is that it’s magic just like she saw the turian General, Malolin, harness, only with the power of the storm instead of blazing fire.

“Let’s move,” Jon says with a slight growl to his voice. “Garrus, stay low until they see you and know you’re here to help. I think I know who we’re dealing with.”

“If so, she might just hit me just for fun,” Garrus says with an amused rumble but lifts off the ground. “I’ll find them, give them the support they need, and you can follow me in the sky.”

“Agreed,” Jon says with a firm nod and Garrus shoots off, soaring just above the hedges and structures in the courtyard and not high in the air where he can be mistaken for another attacker like Cateline mistook them for.

Following Garrus’ path as best they can, the others run through the gardens towards the fight, weapons ready as they break through the wide archway in the gardens and into the battle between mages and Cerberus attackers.

There aren’t as many Cerberus attackers as there had been at the gates of Eden Prime and bodies lie in the snow, slowing being overtaken by what still falls from the darkened sky. They have the advantage over Cerberus, coming out of the gardens at their six and while the mages have the attackers’ attention. It’s easy for Jon to lead the others into cutting down the surprised Cerberus attackers.

As Jana slashes a Cerberus mage across the chest, she hears the whistles of arrows flying near and she glances up to see Garrus fly over her, guarding her back as she’s in the thicket of the fight. She raised her sword hand in thanks when she catches his gaze and he nods but doesn’t falter in his almost rhythmic routine of retrieving, nocking, and firing arrows into the battlefield.

“They’re releasing hounds!” A female voice that makes Jana give pause shouts from where the mages have taken a stand, her tone angry, and a blinding bolt of lightning erupts from a woman seemingly guarding the younger mages.

A loud crack echoes through the gardens as Jana smells the sharp tang of ozone and she barely catches when a duo of Cerberus soldiers are hit with the attack, immediately jerking and arching at the electricity surging through their bodies, no doubt amplified by the metal on their bodies.

Howls fill the air as large shapes enter the battle from their sides, released by Cerberus soldiers that have rushed to the aid of their brethren and Jana realizes these are the hounds the familiar voice is warning them about.

‘Hounds’ is a very loose term to describe the large creatures twice the size of any dog Jana has ever seen. Their bodies are bare of fur but a thick, dark mane atop their neck and oversized shoulders. The rest of their body is mottled and their skin looks like it’s in the process of peeling as if trying to heal from extensive, painful burns. Sharp teeth more akin to fangs drip with saliva and their open mouths are foaming from drool as they charge the group, taking a bigger interest in Jana and the others instead of the mages that have taken shelter with their instructor.

“ Spirits, ” she hears Garrus gasp with a slight trill of shock and she turns to him, finding him in the air right beside her. “Those aren’t normal hounds ….”

“They’ve been corrupted,” Liara says quickly, eyes glimmering a slightly brighter blue as she draws a circle in the air with her staff.

Jana feels a warmth wash over her and the slight soreness from battle eases thanks to Liara’s aiding magic that envelopes the group and Jon swings his sword in a way she recognizes is how he loosens up his wrist. It’s a habit she’s found and it seems to give him that sort of break where he can take a deep breath and assess the situation.

“Cerberus is lost,” he says cryptically to the other two’s conversation, but doesn’t elaborate as he moves to meet the hounds on their approach.

Jameson follows behind and Garrus leaves Jana’s side to offer aid, leaving Jana in the back with Liara at her side and Tali taking up the rear with her crossbow. Taking a deep breath, she looks to Liara to make sure the mage is ready before charging herself.

The hound that pounces on her is heavy, but she manages to catch it with her shield, bending her knees under the weight before springing back up and tossing the beast off. In the same move, she swings down with her sword and feels the blade sink into a meaty shoulder, but the hound merely growls and bites at the blade, not caring about the blood seeping from its deep shoulder wound or mouth.

Jana kicks the hound off her sword and waits until it ducks its head in preparation for another attack before spinning out of the way, the tip of her shield planted in the snow.

Going for a stab this time, she moves alongside it when it snaps at the shield and thrusts her blade deep into its side. The attack only seems to anger it more as it snarls and curls its body to bite her, jaws snapping with a loud clash of teeth, but she stays steady, unafraid because of her confidence in the position of her blade. She moves into the beast’s reaction and drops the shield to wrap both hands around the handle of her sword as she pushes deep, twists, and jerks her sword forward.

The hound makes an odd sound - like a sudden wind rushing from its lungs - as her sword slides from its flesh, splitting its side completely open. The hound’s internal organs fall from its belly onto the snow and steam rises from the contact just before the hound collapses, no longer the vicious creature snarling and snapping at her shield and sword.

Just as she’s picking up her shield, she hears the whistle of an arrow whip past her. Her gaze lifts up to the sky to seek out Garrus to follow his line of sight for whatever enemy he’s firing at, but he isn’t there. Instead, a hand jerks her aside behind her shield as she instinctively draws it up before her and she looks to see who’s come to her aid, finding Tali who’s sharing the shelter behind the oversized shield.

“An archer was aiming right at you,” Tali pants before jerking her head slightly to their forward right. “Good thing he’s bad at it.”

Jana chuckles and nods in thanks. “There aren’t many left. Can you distract the archer while I try to close the gap?”

She knows Tali smiles behind her mask by the way her eyes seem to brighten as they squint slightly. “Let’s see who gets them first.”

Snorting, Jana hefts the shield from the snow a fraction in a silent ask if Tali’s ready. Tali nods and slips a bolt into her crossbow and settles it against her thighs as she uses both hands to pull the string taut.

With a final nod from her friend, Jana moves, lowering her shield to get a quick glance at the battlefield in search of the unlucky archer. She finds them just where Tali warned and runs for them, holding her shield just off the ground and below her line of sight, guarding most of her body except for the top half of her helmeted head.

The archer tries to fire at her unshielded helmet, but they’re no Garrus and their arrow barely makes contact. It scrapes across her helmet with a metallic twang and their fire is returned by Tali, who manages to sink a bolt into the right side of their chest.

It creates enough time of distraction for Jana to close the gap and drop her shield to take her sword in both hands. Slashing upwards, she cuts the stunned archer along their unarmored belly before the blade bounces off of the light metal covering their chest. Not hesitating even though the archer lifts their weapon to block whatever she has planned, Jana steps into their space and knees them, unsure if their a male, but really hoping they are as she aims for between their legs.

She hears a feminine grunt, but it doesn’t matter because the move still makes the archer falter and Jana takes the opening for her attack. Rolling her wrist as she brings the blade down, she lands her hit on the snarling hound helm and feels it give at the force.

The archer falls immediately, bow landing in the reddened snow as she collapses. Jana stabs her once in the lower back to make sure she’s dead before turning to take in the battle, ready for another fight and thanking her extensive training for getting her adapted to the intense effort of battle with swords and shields. As it is, she knows she isn’t a handicap just yet, but she is starting to feel the burn as she pants in the cold air, seeing it create crisp steam before her eyes.

It seems like Cerberus has fallen, the shared group of Jon’s men and the mages managing to take out any Cerberus stragglers before they could retreat and regroup. Tali comes to her side just as Jana’s picking her shield back up and gives her a once over to check for injuries.

Jana chuckles and holds her arms out to show she’s unharmed. “Nice shot,” she says as she drops her arms, letting them hang under the weight of her weapons. “You almost got her.”

“ Bosh’tet ,” Tali responds with a wave of her hand, dismissing Jana’s teasing with a slight scoff. “You were in my way.”

Quick movement catches Jana’s eye and she pushes Tali behind her as she sees a woman stomping towards Jon, fists balled as her eyes glow a bright white beneath her black hood. Her arms are bare and glistening with electricity that’s fading the closer she gets to him. Her face is twisted into a blazing scowl and Jana recognizes the woman just as she shoves her hand against his chest armor, discharging the last bit of her magic against him.

Jon groans and lays a hand on his chest as the flickers of lightning ease and Tali gasps, stepping closer before hesitating as Jon holds a hand up to the others. Clearing his throat, he slowly begins to laugh as he looks at the woman.

“Jac,” he says, confirming Jana’s suspicions.

“Shut it, Golden Boy,” she snaps with a growl. “You better have a plan to get our as -” She pauses and glances back at the approaching students before sighing slightly. “ Us out of here.”

Jana can see Jon’s broad smile through the opening of his helmet. “Oh, I have a plan.”

Chapter 19: Prothean

Chapter Text

“Thank the Maker,” Advisor Cateline calls out when she sees Jac and her students leading the way into the large chamber with the elemental designs in its construction. Jon and the others follow closely behind to protect their six and Cateline comes to him, taking his free hand in hers. “Thank you, Templar.”

Jon squeezes her hand and nods slightly. “There’s been too much loss here. They held out amazingly,” he says with a chuckle, “but I wouldn’t expect anything else from Jac.”

He releases Cateline’s hand and turns to the woman covered in twisting, knotted tattoos with colors that play in stark contrast to the deep black of the linework. Jac has since dropped her black hood to show her mohawk braided from the crown of her head to her neck. Jana also notices she has a twisted, shining black and red dagger on her hip - though she doubts anyone would ever get past Jac’s magic for her to need it.

As Jac’s students rejoin those Advisor Cateline managed to save on her own, Jon turns to the gruff woman and smiles. “It’s good to see you, Jac.”

Jac scoffs, dismissing the compliment as she crosses her arms and glances behind him at her closely-held students. “You better have a f*ckingway to get us out of this sh*t hole,” she hisses when she seems confident the students are out of hearing range to pick up on her swearing she obviously has to keep in check around the students.

“Good to see your colorful vocabulary hasn’t been impaired while you’ve been here,” Garrus jokes with a chuckle and Jac scoffs and balls her gloved fists a few times, making the light leather creak as she warms her bare fingers.

“Bite me, your Majesty ,” she retorts, hiding the roughness of her natural voice with a tone of politeness and modesty.

Garrus pulls his head back and makes a sound as if the title leaves a bad taste in his mouth and Jac laughs loud, sure she’s won in their little toss-up of jabs and jokes.

“Jac,” Jon interrupts, laying a hand on her shoulder. “We need to get you all off this island and onto the Normandy. We can take you to the Citadel from there.” He pauses and glances at Liara, then the magically sealed door supposedly barring anyone from a prothean artifact. “But Liara is right when she says we need to retrieve that artifact.”

“You’re after that thing?” Jac scoffs and crosses her arms. “I’m not putting my kids in danger for your asari’s curiosity .”

“It’s not curiosity-”

Jon interrupts the building argument between Liara and Jac with a raised hand. “I understand the danger you’re in, Jac, but maybe we can find something on this … sarcophagus that may help the war effort. We’ve found something at Mars so there’s a possibility.” He looks to Liara and she nods.

“Cerberus almost stole the information from us at Mars …. This just may determine the victor in this war depending on who gets their hands on it.” Liara walks to the shielded door and lays her hand on the barrier. “We need in here.”

Advisor Cateline joins them just as Liara’s finishes and Jac snorts derisively. The older woman lays a hand on Jac’s shoulder and gestures to the library in silent request and Jac acquiesces, leaving them to tend to the group of students.

“I spoke with my students,” Cateline says as she motions the door with her hand. “The barrier isn’t theirs. It was, but someone must have broken through while we were taking shelter in the library.”

“It’s good they let you and your students be,” Jon says and flexes his gloved hand a few times, perhaps an unconscious gesture done as he thinks for a moment. “But that’s more reason for us to see what we can do to get in there. Cerberus may already be inside.”

“It’s very possible,” Advisor Cateline agrees but her gaze moves to the younger mages taking shelter in the library. “We can’t wait long while you try to get through.” She looks at Jon, her face taking on an expression that implores that they all get moving soon. “And we can’t make it to the docks without you. Who will alert your ship if you aren’t with us?”

Garrus makes a long hum that gets Jon’s attention. Garrus rubs his neck beneath his hood as he seems to be thinking up something, gaze cast aside.

“I can go with them, defend them alongside Jac,” he offers, but it’s clear that he’s reluctant to leave the others. “Then I can fly to the Normandy while Jac holds the docks long enough for me to return. Then, once everyone’s aboard, I can come back to you?”

“That’d work,” Jon says, ignoring Garrus’ hesitation with his firm confidence. “You and Jac know how to work together, take advantage of each other’s strengths and compensate for your weaknesses.” Looking at Cateline, he gives a soft smile. “I trust Garrus and Jac can keep your students safe. Take care of anyone’s injuries, but please be quick.”

Cateline dips her head, a grateful smile on her lips and in her blue eyes. “We know other paths that lead to the docks.”

Jon nods. “And most of Cerberus must have moved on …. It’s quieter than I’d suspect if they were stalking the halls.”

Advisor Cateline frowns slightly, most likely at the thought of why Cerberus wouldn’t be around to bother them now that they have the students they came for. She doesn’t speak, though, and instead nods before turning back to Jac and the students, starting to gather them together to tell them the plans for escape.

Garrus moves to join them, but Jon stops him with a hand on his elbow. “A moment,” Jon asks and motions with his chin towards the students and their red-robed protectors. “Be careful. I know you know how to deal with unskilled people, but they might be overeager. Jac confided that her students have the expectation of being in the vanguard of the King’s army, but she’s confident they’re needed elsewhere.”

“A position in the supportive forces?” Garrus guesses and Jon smiles, nodding as he pats Garrus’ shoulder.

“Exactly, but they don’t know her feelings. Keep that in mind when you’re with them … and look out for them when they get too deep into battle.” He takes a deep breath. “And let’s hope our worries are for naught and Cerberus has moved on by now.”

“Safer to be paranoid than unprepared,” Garrus says before leaving them to join Jac and, if she knows Garrus, further discuss the plan.

“Jon,” Liara calls softly, having silently moved to the door while Jon had been discussing the students’ way out. “I might be able to break this seal.” She lays a hand on the shimmering barrier and closes her eyes. “It’s strong, but formed in haste …. Still,” she adds, finally looking at the others with a magical glimmer to her irises, “it might take more energy than I can give and still be left able to fight.”

“We’ll just be sure to be quicker than Cerberus in a fight,” Jameson jokes before glancing at the others, his expression dropping. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” Jon lays a hand on his shoulder as he passes, going to Liara’s side. “I’ll protect you should anyone be ready for us behind the door. And we’ll keep you guarded in battle if we face any opposition trying to get out.”

Liara nods and raises her hands to lay on the glistening magic surrounding the carved doors, closing her eyes. Jana can hear her whispering softly, but can’t make out the words as a shimmer like one made from light reflecting off water washes over Liara’s hands, traveling up her arms to cover her entire body. She opens her eyes, glowing from her own power, and runs her palms along the barrier before pushing, slowly and forcefully against the very solid magic.

With a deep breath she exhales, Liara’s hands seem to slowly sink into the barrier until they press against the wood of the large doors. Her arms tremble with the effort she must be exerting to break the magic, but the shield soon glows a bright white before finally bursting beneath Liara’s magic with an audible crackling and a static sensation flowing outward to fill the room.

Once the magic dissipates, Liara’s power dwindles around her form but Jon’s right there to help catch her. She whispers a word of thanks as he holds her with his arm around her shoulders, long enough for her to catch her breath and find the strength to stand tall once more.

“Thank you,” she says again as she straightens completely, smoothing her robes with shaky hands. “I had to use more power than I first anticipated. Whoever sealed these doors was determined. I feel like they may have used all of their own strength to do so.” She looks through the group. “Whoever is within may be desperate now that we’ve broken through.”

“All the more reason for you to step back and let us take the lead,” Jon says, checking her once more before stepping back a step.

Liara nods and gives room for the others to take their places at Jon’s back, taking her position in the back beside Tali. Even as weak as she is, she still draws her staff when the others follow Jon’s example and unsheath their own weapons. Tali readies a bolt in her crossbow and Jana decides to risk it and not use her cumbersome shield.

If whoever’s within is so desperate, then Jana thinks there’s a very real possibility they’ll be unpredictable in a fight. If that’s the case, then she’s going to be more of a liability than help with the huge shield she still struggles to completely control and build speed with.

With a jerk of his shielded arm, Jon silently calls Jameson to the front and they nod their heads in a silent count to three before bashing their shoulders against the wooden doors. The massive, obviously heavy doors don’t swing open as easily and quickly as they would have wanted, but they do open under the force of the two men’s short charge, swinging open to reveal a large room filled with various flora that seem untamed - but probably are to their very names and examination of growth - much of which Jana doesn’t even recognize.

They aren’t attacked as they prepared for and the few Cerberus soldiers in here seem preoccupied - even in a trance - as an elegantly dressed figure walks around what has to be the sarcophagus, recently cleaned to reveal runes and faded colors yet still caked with enough dirt and grime to blur the majority of details. Whoever had been examining from the team of archeologists and scholars obviously hadn’t gotten to the contents of it before Cerberus attacked.

“And so the prodigal son returns.” The figure wears black, embroidered robes and a polished, enigmatic mask of a triad of dog heads that meld into one continuous shape that surrounds their head. “Just in time, Shepard,” they say, their masculine voice smooth as silk and almost lyrical. “We were just about to reveal what secrets this holds.”

Jana’s brows furrow in confusion at the way the runes seem to glow green as the figure nears the sarcophagus and an odd sense of danger flows through her veins.

Something’s not right. It feels …. almost like a beacon would. With a force drawing in anything before snatching it up with it enters within its reach.

“Wait,” Jon says, holding out his shielded hand, a look of concern on his face. “Something’s wrong with it ….”

Jameson, Liara, and Tali look to him in confusion and Jana concludes that they must not be able to feel the same thing she and Jon must be feeling. They must not be getting that sensation prickling their skin and making the hairs on the backs of their necks stand on end in uneasiness.

“He’s right,” Jana says, holding out her free hand to stop the others from advancing, keeping them behind her and Jon. “I see it too …. It’s not safe.”

The masked figure chuckles and stops their circling of the sarcophagus so that it stands between them and Jon and Jana. “I had a feeling you might feel it,” they say with a chuckle. “It is power you feel. Untapped and unbridled power.” They look down at it and hold their hand just above its surface. “The power of the protheans ….”

As they lower their hand, time seems to slow and Jana hears Jon call out to them once more just as she feels her own body go numb. She’s almost forgotten the way the beacons seemed to sap her energy or the way they made her feel disconnected from her body and, this close to the sarcophagus, she thinks that the sensation may just be a unique phenomenon with prothean artifacts. The moment the figure’s hand touches the sarcophagus, everyone seems to realize it for the mistake it is.

Everyone, except for the figure themselves.

A green glow weaves its way up their body, illuminating the runes and flowing their veins, then revealing their glowing skeleton through their clothing. They throw back their head with an inhuman sound similar to a loud rush of air suddenly being forced from their entire being, from their lungs to their very veins carrying it throughout their body. Still, they seem not to realize what’s happening as they raise their hand to their brethren, voice nothing but a whistling rasp as light flows from their mouth and palm, engulfing the Cerberus soldiers.

Jana takes a step back as the light shines from the cracks in the soldier’s armors and beneath robes and underclothes. Something thick, blinding like bright green magma, flows from the snarling mouths of their helmets and they emit various groans, whines, and muffled screams. Jana turns away from the sight of them collapsing into shapes that don’t seem completely solid anymore beneath their armors and robes, unable to look at their unearthly forms now and thankful that they’ve grown silent.

The only sound that remains is a dual-toned laugh, hysterical and laced with agony as the figurehead of the Cerberus troops arches unnaturally before what skin shows beneath their clothes melts , dripping from still solid, glowing bones. The flesh sizzles as it hits the stone floors of the room and the nearest plants catch fire as the body finally ceases to show signs of life, burning for a moment longer before collapsing in a heap of now revealed, charred bones.

Jana can’t even make out the numerous curses that burst from each of the other’s lips, but she knows that shock has stolen her own voice. Throat dry, she looks to Jon and tries to speak, but her bottom lip merely trembles, unable to move.

“It was prothean magic ….” His shoulders droop as if all the energy has left his body. “A curse?” he asks, turning to Liara who stands wide-eyed and paler than usual.

“ Goddess , I …. I don’t know .” She suddenly begins to wring her hands around the shaft of her staff, as if trying to calm herself. “I’ve never …. In all my studies ….”

“Try to think, Liara,” Jon says, voice soft yet urgent. “If something is this protected, would it be valuable?”

“I … I think so ….”

Jon takes a deep breath before his gaze moves to the now innocent-looking sarcophagus. “Did anyone else see it glow before that Illusive One touched it?”

“‘Illusive One?’” Jana can’t help but ask, wondering if finding this reality’s Illusive Man could really have been so easy.

“Uhh ….” Jameson swallows a few times before shaking his head, trying to snap himself out of it. “Uh, yeah …. Yeah. ‘The Illusive One’ or Ones , more like. No one knows who the real leader of Cerberus is and they always have proxies.” He runs his hand over the part of his face revealed by his helmet. “ Maker redde oss ,” he says softly, still in shock.

“I looked fine before they touched it,” Tali says, hands fidgeting on her crossbow. “It just looked like a normal sarcophagus to me.”

Liara and Jameson nod in agreement, but Jana knows she has to say something, all the more convinced that what she and Jon saw must be connected to whatever they went through with prior interactions with prothean artifacts. Judging by how similar their realities are, she has a pretty good idea he was overcome with a prothean message and had to go through the entire quest of finding the Cipher and discovering what it all meant.

“I … did.” Jana swallows and motions to the sarcophagus with her chin. “I saw it glowing like every prothean beacon I’ve come across.”

Jon looks down at it with an expression of deep thought on his features. He slips his shield back onto his back and sheaths his golden sword. With a deep inhale, he turns back to the others and speaks, voice confident and know seemingly determined in whatever he’s come up with.

“I’m going to see what happens when I touch it-”

Everyone shouts their own intelligible - and very loud - protests at his idea, their voices rising as if combatting over who should be heard. It’s Tali that gets his attention and he steps towards her and lays a hand on her shoulder, smiling apologetically, yet knowingly.

“If it’s been guarded with such strong magic, then it must be special. I can’t imagine Cerberus managing to break through to get to whatever’s inside and using it against us in this war,” he says before laying his other hand on her shoulder when she makes a weak sound at an attempt to speak. “We’re already at the Reapers’ mercy and Cerberus has let themselves be corrupted. I can’t justify turning away if there’s a chance.”

“What if … it kills you?” Tali whispers and Jana clears her throat, sheathing her sword.

“Then I’ll touch it.” At Tali’s widened eyes, she chuckles nervously and shrugs. “Jon’s the head of this battle. I can take the chance and touch it if it means maybe getting us something that’s protected like the damn Ark of Covenant.” She huffs when no one understands and says, “Jon’s right. There could be something that could make or break our chances.”

“I can’t,” Tali whispers, shaking her head as she steps closer to Jon. “Jon, please ….” She looks at Jana. “Jana ….”

“It’ll be okay,” Jana assures, not so sure in her decision but confident in Jon’s faith.

Jon lays a hand on Jana’s shoulder, stopping her with a smile. “Then we do it together-”

“Keelah, no ….” Tali is close to tears as Liara lays a hand on her arm to soothe her.

“You’re insane - No tomme !” Jameson throws up his free hand, setting his hammer on the ground on its head. “And what if the same thing happens?”

Jon chuckles and shrugs. “Then we’re all dead ….”

Jana’s huff is much less confident as she pats Jon’s shoulder in readiness. “I’d rather we all survive ….”

He nods in agreement and walks with her to the sarcophagus, shoulder to shoulder. As they come to stand before it, they see what little remains of what must have been the visage of a prothean on the lid. She isn’t sure really if that’s what it is and may very well be imagining something similar to what she’s seen in vids back home of pharaohs using their appearance as the lids of their own sarcophaguses. She can’t make out the details, but the shape is similar to a humanoid figure, with two arms, two legs, and a head. The only difference from a human, however, is the wider shoulders and chest and oddly shaped remnants of whatever its head must have been.

“Ready?” Jon whispers and she glances at him, taking a deep breath and letting it out as she nods.

Together, they lift a hand to hover above the glimmering green that dances along the stone, filling the runes like a beam’s focused light shining from within and moving from top to bottom. Both take a deep breath before letting their hands come down to rest on the surface.

Immediately, Jana’s mind floods with a vision of what must have been the tombs during the age of the protheans. Its walls are a shimmering golden hanging with tapestries and small alcoves holding various kinds of valuable looking vases, statues, and other similar artifacts.

It’s then that she catches her first sight of a prothean - multiple to be exact - as they rush through the tombs, clad in gold armors inlaid with strange, green shards of something she doesn’t recognize. She sees through the eyes of the furthest most prothean in the group and sees them turn to through up a glowing barrier, holding back the corrupt of their kind - the collectors in another name.

She knows it won’t hold, just as her host knows, and they turn back to their men, giving her the chance to really examine them as her body speaks.

Humanoid, the protheans seem more insectoid than anything else, with their multiple, amber eyes with rectangle-shaped pupils and plates running along the tops of their heads. Some kind of slits run from the middle of their thin, bottom lip and then the top to curve just beneath the slits that must act as their nostrils.

“Get to your biers,” her host says -and she can somehow understand him, though his voice is heavily accented - and points further down the halls of the crypts with a three-fingered hand. “I cannot hold them off forever.”

“ Anoteros ,” one says as he draws a shimmering staff with a long blade at the end. “You must go before us. You must lead when we awaken again.”

Jana can feel the anger flush through the body she inhabits, but the leader reluctantly gives to the reason of his soldier’s words. “Do not wait for them to break through. To lead, I must have an army!”

Shoving past his men, her host runs through the halls, past open sarcophaguses awaiting their occupants. He charges past mages putting protheans into a deep slumber with their magic as he enters a round chamber lined with larger, open and still empty sarcophaguses.

These must be for the most important of these soldiers ….

A mage has silently followed and only speaks once Jana’s host walks to the centermost sarcophagus, practically growling as they look into the empty coffin.

“ Anoteros ,” the mage says with an airy, almost silent voice, drawing her body’s attention as the robed figure dips their head. “The Elenchontai are drawing near. We must not wait.”

“Don’t close the halls until my men are secure,” the Anoteros warns, jabbing a finger into the mage’s face.

The mage does not speak, merely tilts their head as if listening to something. “The Elenchontai have broken through the barriers. We must begin the spell.” Tucking their hands in the wide openings of their sleeves, they retrieve a small vial. “Drink, Anoteros. I implore you.”

The prothean whose eyes Jana’s seeing through snatches the vial of purplish-grey liquid and drinks it down without hesitation. A loud noise echoes through the room and the two look down the way the Anoteros came and see the shadows of the Corrupted tearing down protheans as they charge through the corridors of the crypt.

“Hurry,” the mage hisses and starts to urge her host towards the sarcophagus with wide arms to block any attempt to rush to aid in the battle. “You will begin to sleep and we must spare you from death. I will seal this chamber shortly after.”

“No!” The Anoteros turns on his mage with a fire in his veins as he stops from climbing completely into the sarcophagus, but Jana can feel drowsiness starting to overcome his rage. “You must not let my soldier die!”

The mage dips his head but it’s obvious that the words fall deaf on his ears as he begins to glow with an emerald aura of magic and raises his hands. Her host has no option but to lay as the closing lid forces him to choose whether to save himself or be left unconscious and defenseless.

“You will be the last of our people.” The mage’s voice fills the dark sarcophagus, echoing in the Anoteros’ head, past the cottony feeling drowning out any sound in his actual ears. “You will be the voice of our people.”

The rage is palpable even for Jana as she and her host are filled with a final thought, ‘vengeance.’

With a jerk back to reality so forceful she feels whiplash, she feels completely drained and weak. A blast of powerful, green energy tosses her and Jon a good distance to land at their friends’ feet. Tali and Liara scramble to pick them up and Jameson grips his hammer in both hands, ready for a fight as the lid to the sarcophagus slides open with a grinding of stone on stone.

“ Goddess ….” Liara is frozen in a mid crouch to pick up Jana as she sees the figure her studies never before completely described, prothean - the same of what Jana saw in her vision - sit up with a jerk and snarl.

The prothean scowls at the room before turning his glaring eyes at them, his lip lifting to reveal numerous, thin teeth.

“Be careful,” Liara says softly as they climb to their feet and draw their weapons, except Liara and Jon. “They’ve just awakened from a slumber of over a thousand years.”

“Easy ….” Jon raises his hands to the prothean and smiles encouragingly. “We mean you no harm. Do you, uh, speak any language we can understand?”

“Don’t be stupid,” the prothean says in that deep accent. “Can you not learn to speak the Imperial Language by my experience and touch? Must I really speak your uncivilized language?”

Everyone looks to the other, Jon’s mouth opening in surprise and obviously unused to such rudeness as an answer to a seemingly innocent question.

“Of course …. I’m surrounded by infantiles.”

Chapter 20: Two Steps Ahead

Chapter Text

The change in the weather does wonders for everyone’s spirits and attitudes. With the return to their original journey to the Citadel, the Normandy travels south and, in doing so, sails into warmer … everything , be it the very air that fills the sails or the loss of the icy sting against bare skin whenever the waves splash up over the Top Deck’s railing.

Even Jana is able to lose some of the layers to her daily attire. The air is still cold enough that she still needs a long-sleeved tunic and light cloak, but she’s found that her nights alone staring at the stars from the uppermost deck are much more tolerable. Jon will occasionally join her, much more comfortable with the weather and thus clothed in much lighter clothing, but the overall feeling of relaxed conversation without any kind of expectation or environmental discomfort is nice.

With Jon, she feels much more adept at understanding and living in this new world. It’s like they’re a pair of not quite matching pieces, like a white chess piece and its black counterpart. Confiding in him and being confided in has begun to help Jana come to terms with her mistakes and loss, to see things for the better and the still available possibilities of making good.

She knows a lot of it is influenced by Jon’s unfailing confidence that there will be a light at the end of the tunnel, that each win is getting them closer and closer to the war’s finale. Faith is on his side, and Jana’s come to realize that it plays a pretty damn big part in life here. It’s what she thinks leads everyone into following him with heads held high and weapons in hand.

Their talks have also seemed to be helping her come to terms with death and the loss it brings. It still hurts and she finds herself occasionally touching her clothing where her ring lays against her skin underneath, but she doesn’t go to sleep at night with hate and regret in her heart. She can’t quite call it acceptance just yet but she’s slowly walking the path Jon’s helping her traverse as they walk together, he a few steps ahead but looking over his shoulder.

Though she’s sure that Jon never spoke a word of it to anyone, Jana unexpectantly finds another way to release the built-up emotions when she’s alone.

It happens during a conversation with Liara and Tali wherein Tali asks how interactions with Javik have been progressing seeing as how Liara is the fittest for the task given her studies. That, and she’s taken it upon herself to try and converse with the grouchy prothean, which usually results in Jon having to admonish Javik for his rude comments - and insults, as in most instances.

“I’d love to be able to begin writing about my encounters with him,” Liara says as the three of them sit at a table in the mess, their potato and leek soups in a bread bowl now nothing but a residue on their plates and crumbs on the table. “He’s just ….”

“A bosh’tet ?” Tali helpfully supplies and Jana laughs at Liara’s exasperation, all three knowing that’s exactly it.

“It’s really hard to learn about prothean culture from a prothean when all he wants to do is ignore me or talk about differences from his time with such contempt.” Liara drops an elbow to the table and holds her head in her hand. “The only thing that makes it better is that asari live long lives. I think I’m going to need every minute if I’m ever to get through to Javik enough to learn anything.”

Jana chuckles and shrugs. “Fight fire with fire,” she says and chuckles against at Liara’s doubtful expression. “A little bit of pettiness never hurt anybody. If he insults you, send a little piece of his own medicine at him. I mean, it’s not like he doesn’t have his bad quirks or faults.”

“I could never do that-”

Tali puts a hand on Liara’s shoulder. “We can show you how and still be able to be yourself. You don’t need to stoop to his level, just one that makes the bosh’tet quiet for five minutes.”

Liara sighs and holds her hands together on the table. “I’ll try …. But for now, I’ve been writing every little thing I hear. I don’t want to forget a single thing ….”

Thinking about that conversation, Jana sees how she could benefit from such a way of keeping a journal of sorts to … remember.

It isn’t hard for her to find some kind of book to write in, glad to have the basic design of a stiff leather cover with pages secured between by a thick cord weaved and tied tight into the spine. She isn’t sure who made or had the journal to begin with, but she’s grateful for it surprisingly showing up one night after her asking around. Writing with a quill and ink, however, isn’t as easy as the vids make it seem and it takes her a long time to get the hang of it.

She knows Jon’s put together her intentions with the book - to keep her memories within - so she doesn’t turn him away when he offers to help her learn to write. Just as he did with teaching her to fight, he teaches her the skill of dabbing the quill in the ink to gather a small amount on the tip of the bird’s feather and using that to write. She finds that the quill has been cut at a slant to give a point to write with, but it takes mental training to move and hold her hand at an angle that keeps the ink-covered point against the paper and not vertical where all the ink spills out into a big blot.

Luckily, it doesn’t take as long to learn to write as it does to fight, and although she still has blots of ink in places and varying widths, heights, and darknesses in her letters, she can finally put down her thoughts. As she’s learned from Jon’s inability to read her work in their writing lessons, her words within this book will remain secret and hers only as she writes in her universe’s English and not a text people readily know - if it even exists at all. That fact helps her stay confident that what she writes won’t have any snooping eyes peeking at the book’s pages.

In the beginning, she would spend hours writing her memories from her life before the jump between worlds. She started with her life as a kid on Earth up until her father died when she was young. With her mother in the Alliance, Jana spent the rest of her childhood on any ship her mother served on, be it the station of Arcturus or actual, non-combatant vessels. She then charted down the basics of her service up until her posting on the Normandy.

Then writing became a challenge.

She doesn’t know if she just manages to find an opportune moment where Tali’s too busy to stop by their cabin or if she purposely avoids it while Jana writes, but she still has Jana’s thanks for having the peace and quiet when it becomes difficult to put her thoughts to paper. Sometimes she cries while other times she simply catches herself frowning at the thoughts being put to paper.

Memories of the Normandy brings memories of the crew, of Garrus - her Garrus - and it’s a struggle to fight back the pain in her chest as she writes down everything she remembers of him, of how he and their relationship had grown over their time together. Soon, her book becomes a memoir of her time with him, of their shared moments that, from afar, would seem like nothing more than simple chatter but had so much more importance.

She wants to remember everything, from the way he laughed and the sound of his scarred voice to the way he moved on the battlefield or how he carried himself on the ship. Somehow, writing all these things down becomes a way to allow herself to cry, to heal, and she begins to find it much easier to think about him and tell her story of him to Jon on one of their nightly talks. Thoughts of Garrus don’t always bring sadness, but a sense of happiness.

Jana had the opportunity to love him and she wouldn’t trade it for anything in the universe, no matter how short their time together was.

Growing towards the end of one of her tales of a battle fighting klixen, Jana hears the loud talking of their guests from Grissom Academy filling the nearby Mess. Curious about them and how they’re taking the long journey, she finishes up her writing before blowing on the ink to dry it. She leaves the book open on her bed so the pages can dry and pushes the cork back in her ink well before wiping the tip of her quill off on a scrap cloth she’s been using since the beginning. Leaving everything on her bed, she stands and leaves the cabin, admitting to herself how she’s neglected her own hunger now that she smells whatever’s been prepared.

Most of the tables are full of the students, but some of the crew Jana recognizes have joined in the meal along with Advisor Cateline and Jac. Jon sits between Jac and a young teenage boy who, from appearances, seems withdrawn and distracted. Liara sits across from Cateline, talking over something while Tali sits beside her and in front of Jon, nodding softly as she listens to the conversations around her. Jameson has found himself surrounded by students as he regales them with stories that may or may not be completely true - as is usual with his extravagant tales. Jana nods hello when he raises a hand during his storytelling, but she doesn’t join him and his collective listeners as she instead heads towards the long table laid out with whatever food they’ve managed to throw together for such a large company.

“Oh, you made it,” Garrus says from behind her as she makes her way to the mostly bare platters. When she turns to him, she sees a plate of food in both hands and raises a brow in silent question, making Garrus rumble nervously. “They aren’t both for me …. I, uh …. I thought maybe you might feel good enough to eat. I heard Tali say something about the ginger starting to help with your seasickness and … well, and with all the Grissom students here and Jac who eats a lot despite her size-” He catches himself rambling anxiously and flicks his mandibles a few times. “Anyways, I thought you might like something to eat so I claimed a plate for you …. The ginger did help, right? You’re feeling better?”

Jana smiles, grateful for both his consideration for her health and for thinking ahead and grabbing her something to eat before the crowd of students piled their plates high with food. “Actually, yeah, it has been helping. The ginger, mostly. I’m not a huge fan of the taste of licorice root, it seems.”

Garrus huffs as they make their way to an empty place on at the large table with Jon and the majority of the other adults. “Yeah, my father and sister actually like the candy they make from it.” He clicks his mandibles and makes a very youthful expression of distaste Jana had never seen on her husband’s face.

She finds that she likes seeing it and wonders what other expressions she may see on this Garrus’.

“Yeah, there was candy like that back home.” She shrugs as she takes the seat beside him with Tali on her other side. “I never tried it. I’m glad I didn’t.”

Finally getting a look at her meal, she finds that the crew prepared a decent dinner for what they still have left on the ship after their extended travel at sea since setting off from the Citadel to Menea, slight layover at Aephus where the turians gathered some supplies, and rush to Eden Prime to help what little survivors and hold outs they could.

Her plate is quite full of different kinds of foods, from meats and eggs to vegetables and sauces. She easily recognizes a ham steak fried up over a flame to give some flavor to the originally salted meat as well as some soft boiled eggs and handmade - what looks like rye - bread to go with it. There were also grilled leeks with slivers of cheese melted on top, buttered turnips, and some other things she couldn’t quite place.

It being a long, almost sausage shaped piece of meat wrapped around a pool of spicy smelling sauce.

By the spices and unrecognizable meat, I bet it’s a turian dish.

“Oh,” Garrus says with a rumble, smiling when she looks at him, and he points to the food she’d been wondering about. “That’s from before when my parents and the others were eating from our own stocks so we kept from eating what Jon had calculated for the Normandy - and then had to spare for the students. It’s vispera ardens . It’s a dish with a very popular - spicy - sauce you can almost always find together.” He pauses with a hum at her lack of understanding despite his explanation. “It, uh, is … a snake?” he says with a slight duck of his head, rumbling nervously.

Feeling horrible that she might have done something to make him feel like he should be ashamed or regret saving some of his people’s food for her to try, Jana lays a hand on his arm. A bolt of electricity shoots up from her fingertips and blossoms in her, but it doesn’t shock like static electricity discharging from him. Still, the sensation surprises her and she pulls her hand away suddenly, unsure if he felt any discomfort on his end through his sleeve.

“I’m willing to try it,” she says, chuckling to cover the awkwardness she feels, “but if it’s way too spicy, I think you’re going to have to finish it for me.”

Garrus smiles, mandibles flaring as he waits until Jana’s attention seems focused on fetching her iron fork before glancing at arm and ghosting talons along the fabric - which she catches in her peripheral. He’s back to normal when she fully looks back at him, as if nothing happened, and responds to her earlier joke. “Yeah …. I can understand that. Your, uh … hair may be like fire ….” He clears his throat to calm his nervous trills and rubs his wrapped neck, “But your appetite might not be.”

“Oh?” She smirks and dips a big piece of her bread into the sauce. “Is it a challenge?”

He rumbles awkwardly before nodding, offering a wavering smile in encouragement. She smiles back and bites into the bread, trying to show off by taking a particularly big mouthful.

Instantly, her mouth is on fire . She forces herself to swallow and feels it burn all the way down, sure it’s an actual blaze in her poor stomach by now. Coughing, her eyes water and she fans a hand at her open mouth. Everyone’s attention is on her, now, with curious looks of concern as her face grows red and she waves them off, She sees Jac grin, surely knowing what’s happened.

“You actually tried that turian stuff?” Jac asks before laughing loudly, throwing her head back.

Garrus ducks his head with soft trills as he looks at Jana apologetically, mandibles pinched like a child caught doing something bad. “I really didn’t mean for it to hurt you.”

Jana, still choking, crying, and feeling the burn starting to run up into her sinuses, shakes her head and lays her hand on his arm again before motioning with her hand at someone for help. Jon immediately pushes his tankard of ale to her - ale being the widely used drink of the ship when water is unavailable after long enough stints at sea.

Milk would be best, but Jana doesn’t have that option as she drowns herself in the ale. It stings her throat and doesn’t seem to tame the burn, but she soons hears Garrus chirp and stand.

“I’ll go get her something from Chloe!” He says, bending down to get Jana’s attention. “Just hold on. I’ll fix it.”

“No,” she whispers, trying to smile as she wipes her weeping nose and wet eyes on her sleeve. “No, it’s okay,” she says with a stronger voice as she motions him back to his seat. “Please, sit. I’m okay.”

“I really am sorry, Jana,” Garrus says with a weak rumble of apology. “I had no idea-”

“It’s okay, really.”

“Still, I-”

“She said she’s okay!” Jac shouts, throwing her arms up. “Maker, will you sit down already? It’s not like you didn’t just wait up for her and save her some of your food. f*ck- ” She stops in what must be mid-curse if Cateline’s knowing look is any indication and Jac huffs and crosses her arms. “Just sit down already and eat your food.”

If Jana weren’t already red hot from the spice, she’d blush from the truth of the gesture. As it is, all she can do is nod rapidly and wordlessly gesture for Garrus to take a seat back down beside her.

“I’m feeling better now, really,” she lies with a small smile.

Garrus hums as he slowly sits, shifting so that his wings don’t get in the way of his rear on the long bench. “Yeah …. I guess I should’ve warned you better ….”

“Honestly?” Jana chuckles before holding the tankard up to Jon in silent question, which he answers with a shake of his head and smile that clearly says ‘no, go ahead and drink the rest.’ Finishing off the tankard of alcohol - what little remained - she smiles at Garrus once more. “If we’re all being honest here, I really shouldn’t have taken such a huge bite of it. I could’ve done with a taste test but,” she says, shrugging before grinning playfully. “But I guess I wanted to show off and it bit me in the ass.”

“Show off?” Garrus blinks in surprise. “To me?”

Jana swallows, seeing she’s caught, but quickly motions the whole table. “To everyone ….”

Jac snorts and Jana knows the woman sees right through it somehow and is sure the others do too, but they let it be as they chuckle and a few shake their heads.

“Definitely know I’m not going to try turian food now ,” Jon says suddenly. “I had once wondered …. Now I know.”

“What? Don’t think you can take it?” Jac sneers, but the expression is teasingly playful instead of hateful.

Humming, Garrus fidgets a bit before huffing, shoulders visibly relaxing. “Yeah …. maybe ardens isn’t for humans …” he says to Jana and they all laugh.

“Clearly,” she agrees, handing him the rest of the piece of bread she dipped in it. “Here, before it catches fire in my hand.”

He takes it with a small smile, one mandible flaring out slightly as he chuckles. “Yeah. I don’t think it’s that bad.”

“I can’t believe nobody warned me!” she says, mock glaring at the others at the table and Liara and Jon raise their hands placatingly, though smiling.

“Trust us,” Jon says, “We don’t eat turian food because of the rumor of how spicy it is. Now we know those rumors are true.”

“Yes,” Liara agrees, a guilty look on her face. “I admit that I wanted to see its truth for myself without actually … well, trying it .”

“Lucky me,” Jana says with a chuckle, taking another sip from the ale, though it’s still hard to taste with her tongue currently numb to anything but the lingering burning sensation.

“In my time, we too allowed the lesser races to put themselves in danger for our entertainment,” a heavily accented voice cuts in from behind, startling most of them at the table.

Looking in the direction of the newcomer, Jana finds Javik standing with his arms crossed, dressed in a very large, loose-fitting robe that someone onboard had lying around. Jana’s sure it belongs to a turian by the better fit around Javik’s slightly wider than an average human’s shoulders, but it’s still too big for the prothean and has had to be tied tighter.

It looks pretty damn ridiculous, though. Like a child wearing their parent’s robes.

“We didn’t mean it for entertainment,” Jon says with a huff, but motions Javik to sit with them.

The prothean silently refuses.

Jon makes a disappointed expression with his lips, but it seems like he expected as much. Perhaps from his previous encounters which, Jana’s heard, aren’t that pleasant. Rumors are that Javik acts not only like an ass, but like a self-important one with a bad attitude to match. Honestly, from what she’s heard, he sounds more like a petulant child than anything else but, then again, what should they all expect from a person - the last of their kind - who had been put to sleep in the middle of a losing war and awoke to find that the present isn’t much better?

“So this is the prothean?” Jac asks, scrutinizing Javik before snorting derisively. “I’m not impressed ….”

“So these are humans? I’m not impressed,” Javik parrots with a scowl. “Why keep children aboard who do nothing but eat the Normandy’s meager food supply? In my time, everyone contributed or they were useless and thus, expendable.”

Jac curls her lip and a flicker of her magic whispers across her bare skin - of which there’s a lot with the barely-there straps and wrappings of her top. “Say that again about my kids.”

“Your children? How many do humans produce in a litter?”

Jac stands and so does Jon, holding out hands to both. “Easy, easy,” he says to Jac, smiling placatingly. “He’s just trying to rile you up, get you to lose control-”

“It’s working-”

“Jac,” Advisor Cateline stands and lays her hands on Jac’s shoulders, smiling. “How about we go to see how they’re doing? I don’t think many of them are used to such a long time at sea and they might like to hear from experience.”

Jac glares a Javik for a while longer before letting out a heavy breath from her nose. She finally nods to Cateline before pointing at Javik. “This isn’t over.”

They watch her storm off and Jon soon speaks, holding a hand out to the open space on the bench where Jac and Advisor Cateline once sat. “You’re welcome to get something to eat and join us, Javik.”

“We ate your ancestors in my time,” Javik says and Jana isn’t sure if he’s making it up or telling the complete truth. Both are completely possible when it’s Javik in question.

“Well,” Jon drawls, pretending to consider it. “I guess you’ll have to settle for ham steak and eggs. We have plenty of ale or beer for your thirst as well.”

“And this creature not eating?” Javik says with a motion to Tali. “The mysterious one that never removes their armor? I see no plate before them, so what do they eat?” he asks suspiciously. “Or are they not of this realm? A treacherous construct?”

Tali narrows her eyes behind her mask. “I am not a 'construct', you bosh’tet ,” she says with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I’m a quarian and don’t call me ‘ creature ’ again.”

“Ah, quarian,” Javik says, coming to the table to lean closer and examine her, which would piss anyone off, but Tali seems to be taking it rather well.

So far ….

Javik glances to Jon before standing back up straight. “Captain. You and this quarian are mated,” he states, crossing his arms. “And, yet, I sense you are unable to breed. Of what use is this mating?”

Jon widens his eyes and visibly flushes as Tali shrinks in her seat. Liara hisses Javik’s name quietly but the prothean seems unphased.

“That’s not something I’m comfortable talking about with you, Javik,” Jon says politely, though Jana can swear she sees some annoyance in his steely blue eyes.

“You don’t have to talk, your pheromones are telling enough.”

“That’s it!” Tali stands up from her seat, her voice slightly higher from anxiety as she balls her fist. “You have some nerve!”

She picks up someone’s - Jana isn’t sure whose, exactly -empty tankard sitting on the table and throws it at Javik, hitting him square in the head, seemingly surprising him enough that he doesn’t guard against it. Huffing in apparent satisfaction, Tali storms to the cabin she and Jana share, slamming the door as best she can with how it’s built.

Jon sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I should go speak to her,” he says as he starts to stand.

“No, wait,” Jana interrupts, standing up quickly and holding out a hand with a pleading smile. “I don’t think it’d be such a good idea for you to show up after that kind of revelation.”

Jon frowns but reluctantly nods. “Yeah, you’re probably right. You should go.”

Noticing Garrus seems unhappy with Jana leaving, she calls out to him as she’s on her way to the cabin. “Hey! Save my place, yeah? I’ll be right back.”

That seems to assuage his disappointed expression and he flicks a mandible in a soft, half-smile as he nods. “Yeah, sure. I’ll get you some more ale too.”

She nods to him, standing at her door, before stepping into her and Tali’s cabin. Within, she finds Tali storming the room, stomping around their small cabin muttering curses to herself.

“Uh, hey,” Jana says, smiling when Tali’s head snaps to her. “Mind if I come in?”

Sighing, Tali shakes her head and motions to come in. “I can’t believe ….” She crosses her arms and scoffs. “That … That ….”

“ Bosh’tet?” Jana supplies with a chuckle, but she catches Tali shaking her head as Jana pulls the door closed.

“Worse!” Tali says as she throws up her hands. “But I won’t lower myself to say it.”

“Must be bad then.” Jana moves to sit on Tali’s bed, patting the furs for her friend to join her. “Sit? We can talk …. Unless you feel better pacing?”

Tali’s shoulders droop as she exhales a long, tired breath. “I just …. Jon likes me?”

Smiling, Jana leans back on her hands and snorts. “Of course he does.” She chuckles and adds, “Though, I’m sure he wanted to tell you himself.”

“Are you sure?” Tali sits down beside Jana and Jana sits up. “And it’s me he likes, not the someone he lost?”

Damn …. Should’ve known she’d catch on ….

Jana controls her frown and shakes her head, growing serious. “I don’t know if Jon wants me to say anything, but trust me, he isn’t thinking of someone else when he looks at you.” She smiles and lays her hand on Tali’s wringing ones, stilling them. “I don’t know when he wanted to tell you, but we’ve been talking. I don’t know what it’s doing for him, but it feels like … I don’t know. Healing .” Taking a deep breath, she smiles at her friend and forces Tali to hold her hand. “He wants to move on - is doing a hell of a job. Better than me. We … remember, but we’re trying to move on to happier things. Jon’s just two steps ahead of me.”

“You’re really sure?”

Jana is quiet as she nods and Tali takes a deep breath.

“Do you think he’d want to talk about this?” Tali finally asks and Jana nods.

“I can tell him when I go back out if you’re ready?” When Tali nods, Jana smiles and hugs her friend. “I never should’ve doubted how intuned you are with the situation, Tali. And I thank you for understanding …. For … waiting ….”

“Jana …” Tali says quietly, taking Jana’s hands in her own again and looking at their linked fingers, her three gloved ones and Jana’s five. “I know you still hurt, so I just wanted to give you space. I saw something different happening and I wasn’t so sure I should be there. It seemed like you needed to go through it yourself.”

Humming, Jana nods. “Jon helped. I guess we’re more alike than I originally thought.”

Tali chuckles softly, tilting her head. “You really are. I saw it immediately. But, like you said, maybe two steps apart.”

“You understood the saying?” Jana asks, huffing in amusem*nt. “I thought you weren’t very good at human sayings.”

“I know that one.”

Jana laughs softly and stands. “Are you ready? Do you want to go out there or ….”

Tali thinks for a long moment before shaking her head. “If he wants …. Can you ask Jon to come over?”

“Absolutely,” Jana says, putting her hands on Tali’s shoulders. “Be brave. Don’t hold back for fear of his past. He’s strong and I know he can take whatever you have to say. He isn’t like me …. He’ll tell you straight.”

“Okay ….” Tali nods and stands once Jana drops her hands. “Okay, I’m ready ….”

When Jana leaves the cabin, Jon is close by, worrying his hand against his closely cropped hair. His head snaps up when he hears the creak of her cabin door and he smiles at the calm, encouraging expression on Jana’s face.

“Is she okay?” he asks, coming to her so they can talk quietly. “That wasn’t the most … opportune way of saying things.”

Jana chuckles and shakes her head. “No, it definitely wasn’t.” She smiles and quirks her head towards the cabin. “If you’re ready, she wants to talk.” Jon frowns and she laughs softly. “No, no. Not that kind of talk.” She props her hands on his broad shoulders, giving them a firm squeeze. “Jon, she understands us. Better than I probably gave her credit for. She’ll understand whatever it is you have to say.”

“Jana.” He pulls her hands off his shoulders and glances inconspicuously towards the tables. “I don’t want to do this too soon ….”

“For you?” Jana follows his gaze, eyes landing on Garrus patiently waiting at the table for her return. “Or for me?”

Jon breathes heavily and nods. “We’re in this together, remember? We stick together until we’re ready. Both of us.”

“Jon …. You’re too caring for your own good,” Jana says with a warm smile, stepping aside for him. “Go. Talk to her and don’t worry about me …. I’m getting there thanks to you, but I just need more time. I’m slower at it …. But don’t wait for me. If you do, I’m not sure I’ll ever get there.” Her gaze flickers to the tables. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get there if I don’t have your example to look up to.”

Chapter 21: Bathhouse

Chapter Text

The Normandy is finally docking when Jana and Tali wake up the next morning and she can’t be more excited to finally set foot on land. It’s like a shore leave back home but, for some reason, it feels more freeing. Perhaps because there was more to do on her Normandy than this vessel - an actual ship.

Last night, something happened between Jon and Tali that seems to have given Jana’s friend new life. Something good , Jana expects and she’s happy for both of her friends, but also grateful it hasn’t created a huge rift between them and herself now that they seem to have taken a step forward in their own relationship.

Stretching, Jana yawns loudly and gets a snort in return from her friend. Tali’s shake of her head clearly shows how convinced she is at the big show of comfort, the two of them still getting used to the bare beds made of taut fabric, straw, and furs instead of padded mattresses. Hell, Jana had better beds in basic than she does here, but she knows she’ll eventually get used to it.

There’s just going to be those days where she feels as stiff as a board when she wakes up, achy and feeling older than she really is.

“Gotta love these ship beds, right?” she asks Tali and gets a straw-filled pillow thrown at her as a response, making her laugh. “Oh, come on. It can’t be that bad.”

“I miss my sleeping pod,” Tali says with a pout and Jana laughs again. “You should laugh with your comfy human bed up in your cabin.”

Jana quiets and frowns, puffing out her lower lip. “Low blow …. I didn’t ask for those, you know. And the first Normandy’s wasn’t anything to write home about. So … blame Cerberus for the comfy bed.” She smirks when Tali looks her way. “I know I did.”

Tali visibly rolls her head in an eye roll and Jana snorts at her, standing to get out of yesterday’s clothes and into something more suited for the Citadel, still remembering Jon’s conversation a ways back when he mentioned the difference between ship attire and something better suited for the opulent city. She gets into some tight brown pants first before taking off her shirt in search of a fancier shirt.

“ Keelah , what is that ?” Tali gasps and Jana immediately spins around to see what’s the matter, seeing nothing behind her so she begins to look over herself, there being nothing else in the cabin that could’ve caught Tali’s attention at being amiss.

That’s when Jana’s hands still, gaze falling on the black markings down the center of her chest. She grazes her fingertips along them, but it’s as smooth as the rest of her skin surrounding them as if they’re some kind of tattoo.

“How …” she says softly, brows furrowing as she takes in the sight to make sense of the upside-down images.

There are the outlines of two chevrons above the silhouette of a black bird - wings spread as if in flight - in the center with a myriad of lines and circles alined down the center of the marking. Two lines come at an angle around a large circle above the chevrons and the same design repeats itself below the bird, only it has a triad of differently sized circles at the point of two lines coming down from the outer edges of the chevron.

“What is it?” Tali asks, leaning closer to get a look. “It’s pretty … but where did it come from?”

“I ….” Jana lays her hand on it to see if it feels any different, but the marking doesn’t hurt or leave a kind of raised scarring on her skin. “It’s like a tattoo … I think. I never had one, but I’ve touched other peoples’ before. It feels like this.”

“... Does it hurt?” Tali holds out a hand in question and Jana moves her hand, giving a motion of her head in the go-ahead.

“No,” she answers as Tali ghosts her fingers along the straight, geometric lines and circles. “But where did it come from ?”

Tali snorts, standing back and crossing her arms. “Like I know ….”

Humming, Jana looks down at it a little longer before deciding that she’ll ask someone of this world about it later when they aren’t all preparing to dock and finally get some time to walk on dry land without armor and weapons weighing them down. She pulls on a black shirt and vest, leaving the vest’s laces loose. Tali helps her pull on her boots before they head out of the cabin to join everyone else getting off the ship.

“Hey,” Jac says as Jana and Tali reach the Cargo Deck. She stands up from where she had been leaning her back against a beam of the ship, arms crossed, and comes over to Jana, giving her a long look. “Don’t really care where you two came from,” she starts, dropping her arms, “but you fought well back at Grissom …. I trust you to watch these assholes’ backs.” She narrows her eyes. “Don’t you dare mess up and get them hurt. I like Jon, even if he is such a Golden Boy, and Garrus such a White Knight. The others?” She snorts and shrugs. “I guess you can watch out for them too.”

Jana chuckles and nods, holding out a hand. “Trust me, I don’t intend to let anyone down. Different realm or no, I’m keeping to Jon’s six the whole way.”

Jac’s lip twitches as she looks at Jana’s hand just long enough for Jana to wonder if this world doesn’t do such a thing before taking it with a firm grip. Each woman gives the other a strong squeeze before Jac lets go quickly and motions to the opening gangways.

“I’m outta here,” she says, backing up a few steps before turning. “See ya later, f*ckers.”

“She doesn’t change,” Tali whispers over Jana’s shoulder and both chuckle.

“She most certainly doesn’t,” Jana agrees, but smiles. “I don’t think she’d be Jac if she was different, though.”

“That’s true …. Come on, let’s get off before they start blocking up the gangplanks with bringing on supply crates.”

Jana follows Tali out of the Normandy and onto the bustling dock, shading her eyes from the glare of the sun. The air is slightly chilly today, but the skies are clear, and Jana finds herself basking in the sun for a moment before Jon calls out to them.

“Tali, Jana!” He shouts over the noise of the docks, motioning them to come over to where he stands - dressed once again in his officers’ jacket - with Advisor Cateline and that same kid he’d been sitting with last night in the Mess. “I want you two to meet David before he and the others go on their way. Jana, Tali, David,” he says, holding out a hand to each person as he says their name.

“Hello,” David says, tone low and mind seemingly preoccupied as he looks down at the ground between them. “You are the ‘travelers.’”

“Well, yeah, I guess you could say that,” Jana says, nodding at the different take on her and Tali’s way of being here. “Though it’s not really something we control like it might sound like.”

“I know ….” He mumbles a bit, tilting his head towards Advisor Cateline and mumbling something to her.

“David,” Jon says, smiling as he gets the teen’s attention. “It’s been great to see you again. Maybe we can straighten out a way to send letters? I’d love to hear from you when you’re able, tell me how far in counting you are.”

David nods, flexing his hands. “Okay. I’d like that.”

“Let’s join the others,” Cateline says to David before giving Jon and the others a grateful smile. “We owe our lives to you, Shepard. Thank you for answering our call for help.”

“I just wish we’d been faster,” he says with a slight, regretful frown. “We could’ve saved so many more.”

“You did what you could. And because of it, you saved us. Loss is regretful, but we have to look at the brighter side of things in a time like this.” Advisor Cateline sighs, offering a weak smile. “I’ll do what I can to convince the King’s Alliance that our students are better suited aiding the injured and out of the main field of battle.”

“Good,” Jon says with a nod. “They aren’t soldiers. Don’t let the Alliance think so.” He offers her a hand to shake. “Be well, Advisor Cateline. And when I see Admiral Anderson again, I’ll tell him you’re safe.”

She smiles and takes his hand in both of hers, giving it a firm squeeze before letting go and turning to her student. “Come on, David. It’s time to go,” she says, giving Jana and Tali a nod in parting before guiding the boy to the others waiting with Jac.

“Do you think the Alliance will listen?” Jana asks when she knows they won’t be overheard by the Grissom group.

Jon takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I can only hope. I’ll send a raven with my opinion, but it’s ultimately the decision of others high above me.” He turns to her. “I’m but a Captain in a large army.”

Jana nods in understanding, looking over the crowds of the docks. “How long will we be staying here in the Citadel?”

He hums, crossing his arms as he looks over his ship and the crew unpacking her of the empty barrels and crates they’ll soon replace with newly stocked supplies. “The Primarch wants to announce a war summit, convene the leaders of the various peoples of Alysim to form an alliance that’s above the Council. He sent ravens from the Normandy, but he wants to go directly to the Tower where the embassies are to talk ambassadors into sending their own calls to their leaders. Maybe even have messengers use the Imperial Gate to get there faster.”

“And if they agree?” Jana asks, looking over the docks. “Would they come here through their own Gates?”

Humming, he shakes his head. “They wouldn’t. If it were simple, yes, but Primarch Castis wants to bring in the krogan into this alliance … and no krogan would come without their guard. Just like any of the other races, they’d want protection against betrayal. Especially Wrex after his own past experiences. That’ll make people on the Citadel nervous.”

“Wrex?” Jana repeats, surprised. “Wow, that’s pretty big for the turian Primarch to be willing to convene with Wrex if it means an alliance in the war.”

Jon nods. “Garrus and I vouch for him. I don’t know where Wrex was in your realm, but he’s been working hard to unite his people under one banner, Urdnot. They’ll be separate provinces but all will follow Wrex’s decisions and orders.”

Jana nods, her Wrex much the same. She never found out if he fully succeeded, however. Not with how she fell apart after the mission on the Collector’s homeworld. She had hoped the best for him, really looked forward to the krogan moving towards one goal of rebuilding, but she knows how hard such a thing would’ve been.

She’s proud that maybe - just maybe - he accomplished his ambitious idea in this universe, even if it’s not her Wrex that succeeded. She knows they need the krogan united if they’re to survive the war as a whole. Under one front, the krogan may damn well be the turning point of the war if Wrex can be convinced to join the Primarch and whoever else sees the bigger picture instead of petty prejudices.

“Will you be overwatching the exchange?”

“Indeed,” Jon answers, crossing his arms as he watches his crew move crates to the dockhands to be later filled with supplies like food for both themselves as well as the horses. “They’ve asked me to mediate. Our plans are to bring the races’ leaders aboard the Normandy as a neutral ground for negotiation.”

Jana huffs, crossing her own arms. “Of course there’ll be negotiations. Nothing ever comes free.”

“Indeed.” Jon drops his arms and looks fully at Jana and Tali, smiling. “Say, what would you say to a nice, hot bath?”

Jana laughs. “You know that sounds like an awfully awkward come on? Maybe I should leave you and Tali to discuss that.”

Jon takes a moment before his smile widens. “I definitely didn’t mean it that way. I was wondering if you wanted to go to one of the bathhouses here on the Citadel. There are quite a few, but there’s one that’s a favorite of almost everyone in my crew. And they know me there. Being a Templar will be sure to get some privacy from the rest of the bathers.”

“So, is this like a communal bath?” Jana raises a brow, curious.

It’s not like she isn’t used to sharing thanks to her Alliance’s barracks - hell, even the first Normandy had them - but she’s never seen a bathhouse herself. As far as she knows, they don’t exist in her universe anymore.

“Yeah, it’s like that. But again, I can get you some privacy from strangers for your bath.”

“Well,” Tali says with a huff as she turns to Jana. “It’s completely up to you. I can’t really bathe myself.” She motions her suit. “I’d definitely miss the whole purpose.” Sure to be smiling at Jana by the way her eyes squint, she cups Jana’s elbow. “I wouldn’t mind giving you company, though.”

“I’d like that,” Jana says with a smile, glancing at Jon. “How do we get there?”

“It’s in the Garden District. It’s a very rich district in the Citadel, but they welcome us thanks to Liara’s doctorate and my own Templar status. They won’t give you any problem if they know you’re from my crew.”

“How would we get there?” Jana chuckles nervously. “It’s not like we have a map of the Citadel.”

“I’m more than confident that Liara wouldn’t mind joining you.” He hums before stepping closer. “Asari culture revolves around the power of water and the innate magic that flows through it in Thessia. Bathhouses are known to be a very important place for asari of all social standing. If you ask her to take you, I’m sure she’ll be overjoyed to take you there and join you. Would that be okay?”

“Of course.” Jana smiles. “Trust me, I’m used to communal showers from the Alliance and a bath hides even more of other people’s bodies so it’ll be nothing sharing with others. Any things you might need to warn me about?”

Jon purses his lips as he tilts his head, looking above Jana’s head as he considers. “No …. No, I don’t think so.” He smiles and adds, “It’s pretty straight forward. You’ll get your answers when you get there, I’m sure.” Turning to the ship, he sees Liara walking down the gangplank, dressed in a yellow gown that reveals quite a bit of her person accompanied by golden sandals.

“We were just talking about you,” Jon says with a chuckle and waves Liara over. “Liara, do you think you can take Tali and Jana to the Aphroditia Bathhouses?”

Liara seems to perk up at the request and smiles warmly. “Of course,” she says with excitement in her voice. “I’d love to. You can see the beautiful gardens of the Citadel as we walk.”

Jana nods and holds out her hand to lead the way, sure she should be able to keep up with the taller asari through the crowds bustling about the streets of the Citadel. At least she hopes so.

“Stick close,” Jana whispers to Tali. “This place seems even more packed than our Citadel …. Don’t know how. Maybe it’s my imagination ....”

“No, you’re right,” Tali says as they make their way down the docks towards the bridge that leads to the large doors of the Citadel itself. “It seems more crowded than the districts we went to before but maybe it was like this in the others?”

“It’s very crowded here and in the Kithoi District - where we’re passing through - because of so many people coming from ships that dock here in Zakera,” Liara says as she motions the passing of men and women that seem to be carrying goods bought somewhere in the city. “The Kithoi District is a market district of a higher class than Zakera, so many of the richer ship Captains shop there. It’s also a place for the citizens of the Citadel …. And it homes those that don’t quite qualify as the economic classes that live closer to the Presidium.”

“So, middle class,” Jana states as they pass through the open doors of the Citadel and into said Kithoi District. “As in a higher class of citizens than those living out there behind Zakera’s shops?”

Liara flushes a little and dips her head. “I didn’t want to put it quite that way. I’m sorry if it sounded-”

Jana lays a hand on Liara’s shoulder. “No, don’t think of it that way. I’m not trying to call you callous or anything. Just wanted to make sure you know that you don’t have to sugar coat things.” She shrugs. “This isn’t my home, so I don’t really have an opinion and even I know that people fall into classes. It happened even in our universe.”

Tali shakes her head. “It even happened between species too.”

Jana doesn’t want to bring up the obvious prejudices against the turian people that’s usually aimed towards their wings in this realm, but she doesn’t speak. Liara’s done nothing wrong to the turians aboard the Normandy to deserve a talking down to about it. At least not that Jana’s seen and she doesn’t want the asari to think like she’s unknowingly treating Garrus and his people any different.

Liara hums, frowning slightly. “I admit that happens here too,” she says, guilt in her eyes. “I never really interacted with other races in my studies and work and I learned prejudice from other asaris’ stories. Admittedly, I was very standoffish to everyone on the original Normandy. I like to think I’ve become more used to everyone.”

Jana smiles. “I wouldn’t have known you thought anything different of everybody unless you told me, to be honest. Everyone on the Normandy is friendly with each other. Accepting.”

Liara smiles softly, dipping her head in a soft nod. “Thank you, Jana. There’s been a lot of changes from being a reclusive archeologist to a … member of Jon’s crew.”

I wonder if she’s a Shadow Broker here too.

When they reach the Garden District, it really is beautiful. Flora of all kinds fill the alleyways between buildings and line the streets. Jana can tell that Liara wasn’t kidding about how rich you’d have to be to live here just based on the amount of care that’s been taken in keeping the white buildings pristine and cobblestone roads from missing any stones or drastic discolorations from millions of trodding feet. Tree branches hang above the very edges of the walkway and elegantly dressed citizens walk the spacious paths, not needing to worry about crowds of unclean, pushy people.

While not as opulent as the Presidium, Jana can tell why this would be considered the home of many higher class citizens. Hand blown glass windows look out onto the streets, letting sun into the homes and buildings where it could make its way through the full trees both recognizable and foreign. Even the people walking on the paths through the gardens are dressed in clothing elegant enough that Jana feels extremely underdressed and out of place here. She doesn’t know much about asari attire, but Liara looks much more at home than Jana and Tali, so it must speak to her high standing in the academic community.

Or maybe Matriarch Benezia left behind quite a fortune to her daughter in her death? I never really got the chance to talk to Liara about how her mother was before being Indoctrinated.

They come upon a building with doors held open and a banner flying above with a design of water pouring from an overflowing, decorative vase. The very colors of the banner rival the beauty of the flowers in planters framing the doorway and there are ivy-covered terraces the height of the large doors set behind them and against the walls.

This must be the bathhouse.

An asari and human woman greet them at the doors, dressed in loose gowns with small, delicate circlets holding a single pearl set on their heads and curling, golden bands around their upper arms. The asari’s facial markings flow like water and the human woman has her hair down, loosely curled like soft waves rolling against a shore. Their eyes are even varying colors of blue, slightly different but still reminding Jana of water.

“Welcome, Dr. T’Soni,” the human woman says, both herself and the asari giving a slight bow. “Will others be joining you?”

Liara nods and smiles, holding a hand to Jana and Tali. “Yes, my two friends. I expect Templar Shepard and some of his crew to arrive here shortly.”

“Of course,” the asari says, turning slightly and holding an open hand towards the inner room of the bathhouse. “Right this way.”

They follow the two attendants into the first room of the bathhouse, which seems like a lobby of sorts with its spacious seating areas and attendants waiting and at the ready for any new guests’ arrivals. The asari and human woman guide them towards a salarian dressed in a long tunic buttoned up the side with a high collar. The lilac fabric has swirling patterns of water and aquatic images sewn on with a shimmery blue.

“This is Feahrin,” their asari guide says as she holds a hand out to her colleague. “She and Priira will be tending to your needs.” She holds out a hand to the group of attendants as she speaks, drawing the attention of a violet skinned asari who also has facial patterns that mimic water. “This is Priira. If you desire a massage during your bath, she is an expert at easing any tension in your body … and mind, if you wish.”

“Thank you,” Liara says with a smile and the two that had greeted them bow once more before taking their leave.

“Please, this way.” Feahrin’s voice is soft, almost melodic as she guides the way through the double, light brown doors with a waterfall pouring into a pond carved into the wood. “We have a special bath for you and your guests, Dr. T’Soni. We can bring salts and fragrant flowers to enhance your experience as well.”

Priira follows closely behind and Jana can see her nod out of the corner of her eye. “Yes, I can collect the best we have available for your bath if you so desire. The hot water of the bath will mix well with some orchid, lotus, and sweet jasmine. Orchids are known to reduce fine lines and wrinkles, lotus flowers soften the skin and ease tension, and sweet jasmine will leave you with an uplifted mood. Would you like me to use other flowers as well?”

Jana clears her throat. “Uh …. I don’t really know much about this, but do roses work?” She smiles at Liara, blushing a little. “I’ve always loved the smell of roses.”

Liara smiles back and nods. “Of course,” she says and looks to their asari attendant. “Please add roses to our bath as well. Thank you.”

Their salarian attendant guides them into a large room full of steaming pools, large enough for numerous people. Steam rises from the baths in use by all manner of species she’s seen on the citadel, from asari to turians. Everyone seems perfectly at ease in their baths and don’t even notice the group passing by on the small pathway between the biggest of the baths, too preoccupied in relaxing and being tended to by their own polite caretakers.

Along the furthest wall are bathing pools sectioned off by terraces that are built with smaller than average holes to provide more privacy without locking in the steam as it would within a completely closed room. Their attendants lead them into one such ‘room’ where the water is already hot and steaming.

“Please, feel free to undress while we prepare your bath, Sugnyeo .” Priira leaves them - to gather supplies for the bath, no doubt - while Feahrin walks to a small cabinet in the room and withdraws towels, placing them on a table near the water.

“We can have delicacies brought to you, as well, Dr. T’Soni,” Feahrin says with a slight bow. “For you and your guests.”

Liara, already beginning to undress by slipping off her sandals, nods and looks to Jana and Tali. “That’d be fine, right?”

Jana chuckles. “Food and a hot bath? Count me in.”

“Very well,” Feahrin says, dipping her head towards the bath. “I’ll gather some while you get comfortable.”

Once the salarian woman leaves them, Jana begins to follow Liara’s example and starts to undress. There’s a small bench near the cabinet where Feahrin fetched their towels and Jana uses it to take a seat and pull off her boots. She tucks them under the bench to keep from tripping their caretakers and then strips out of the rest of her clothing, used to being nude around others from her old Alliance.

What she’s not used to, however, is a hot bath. She’s had some in her life, sure, but they were few and far between thanks to living the majority of her life on ships or the Arcturus Space Station. Baths were a commodity for shore leaves or postings on colonies, not for the daughter of an active-duty lieutenant in space or as the commander of her own ship.

So when she dips her feet into the water, she feels her skin prickle at the odd sensation and it takes all her effort not to just splash headfirst into the bath, sure that it’s not proper etiquette. Instead, she moves to a spot of the tub where she can be near Tali as she sits on the benches and takes a seat on an inner ledge of the pool’s walls. There are numerous, like steps all around the perimeter, and she figures it has to do with accommodations for all species - from the relatively shorter humans on the higher seats to the towering turians on much deeper ones.

Sitting on her ledge, the water level rests at mid-chest for her and she sighs, wishing there were something she could rest her head on, knowing that she’d easily fall asleep in this kind of comfort. She smiles as Liara joins her, watching her walk to the opposite side of the tub and make a sigh of her own.

They sit in silence as they bask in the heat of the water, something Jana hasn’t quite experienced like this. There were the occasional rivers or lakes when they were on Menae during their travels, but it was more to wash off the sweat and cool down a bit than actually get clean.

She can only get so clean in a river or lake’s murky waters.

She glances at Tali and frowns slightly. “Sorry, Tali ….” She huffs and lays her hands back in the water and half-turns to her friend. “I wish you could feel this.”

Tali waves her hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry about me.” She watches their stewardesses returning with oils, salts, and flowers for their bath and hums. “I wouldn’t know how to take it all in,” she says and leans closer to Jana, lowering her voice. “I think it might be working.”

“Working?” Jana’s brows furrow in confusion and she tries to run through her mind what exactly could be working.

Definitely not our tech. That’s as good as gone now that Tali’s even given up trying to fix it.

Tali snorts and taps her helmet where the glass mask attaches to the support structure on the back, behind her head. “I think I might be getting used to this place, the air, the food, the everything ….”

Shock makes Jana’s jaw drop as she stares at Tali with wide eyes. It takes a long time before she collects herself enough to speak, though her voice is weak still from the surprise Tali just dumped on her.

“Wait …. You mean you can take off your suit?” she hisses, looking around to see if they’ve attracted attention before turning in the pool to look up at her friend. “That’s amazing …. How do you know?”

Shyly, Tali glances away with a slight hum. “Well … I tried some food …. Now don’t worry,” she says quickly, holding up her hands to silence Jana. “I was … hmm … ninety percent sure?”

Jana glares at Tali. “Ninety is not that safe a number here, Tali.” She sighs at Tali’s hopeful look and tries to smile. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Well, because I knew how you’d react.” Tali nods at Jana’s huff of attempted denial. “You just did it. Right now. Right just then …. And besides,” she says, wringing her hands and twisting her body in anxiousness as she ducks her head. “I wanted to … do that with Jon.”

“ That ?” Jana raises her brows, definitely not sure Tali should’ve made that big of a leap into the unknown.

“No, not that!” Tali scoffs and throws a towel at Jana’s face. “I tried food with him, you bosh’tet . You have such an easily distracted mind.”

Jana laughs, pushing off the wall and spinning back in her seat, laying her arms on the edge of the pool’s sides. “I can’t help it, I’m happy for you. I get carried away when I get excited like that. Still, though, I’d love to see it in person.” She glances up at Priira sprinkling petals and flowers into the water as she walks around the bath, waiting until she passes to speak to Tali again. “So you eat it like you would food back home? Through a series of seals in your mask?”

“Something like that,” Tali answers, kicking her feet against the marble floor. “I don’t have to use seals anymore. Just the one because I’m still a little sensitive to the air - temperature and other stuff like salt and dust.” She sighs, leaning back on her hands and gazing up at the mosaic on the ceiling. “I tasted candy , Jana. And I didn’t need to cycle it through decontamination.” Jana glances back at her friend to see a sense of awe in Tali’s eyes as she whispers, “I tasted a piece of candy that touched Jon’s hand ….”

Jana knows she will never quite understand the importance of that statement, so used to not having to decontaminate her food like Tali had to for every meal or drink but she knows it means so much to her friend. Tali’s whole world has shifted with one little thing and Jana’s truly happy for her, even if she can’t comprehend the full magnitude. She’s sure only another quarian would ever fully understand the weight of Tali’s success in overcoming her immune system’s response to even the smallest piece of candy.

“I’m happy for you, Tali,” Jana says with a smile once she regains Tali’s attention. “Maybe we could share something we can both pick out while we’re here at the Citadel?”

She can tell Tali smiles as she gives a slight nod. “I’d really like that. It could be like all the vids where we share stories and snack on candy.”

Jana chuckles and turns back to her bath, letting her head hang back and closing her eyes. She takes a deep breath of the aromatics from the dissolving bath salts and flowers, but she’s quickly snapped out of her reverie by Tali’s sudden gasp.

Sitting up quickly, at the ready for a fight in a very unlikely place such as a bathhouse, Jana looks around but relaxes when she sees familiar faces approach.

Jon and Jameson seem to have already undressed and sport only towels around their waists as they walk into the little alcove where their pool is. While not surprised to see them joining herself and Liara for a soak in the bath, she has to bite back her reaction to Tali’s barely audible murmuring at seeing Jon in all his ‘naked glory,’ as the saying goes.

“I never thought about it,” Jon says, mid-way into the pool. “Are you okay with us joining, Jana?”

Jana takes a moment to snap out of watching her friend subtly squirm in her seat. “Oh, yeah …. No problem. I’m used to communal showers back home, so I’m not squeamish about bathing with other people. And,” she says, flowing her hands around in the water directly around her, “there’s plenty of room.”

“That’s good,” Jameson says, relaxing at his own place in the bath. “You let us know if you see anything you like, Ylva ,” he adds with a grin, flexing his intricately tattooed arm.

Jana snorts. “Oh, you mean now?” She laughs at Jameson’s mock pout and leans back against the wall, stretching out her legs and watching herself wiggle her toes. “God, this is fantastic ….”

“Mind some more company?” Jon asks and Jana looks at him, raising a brow, so he motions behind her.

Spinning slightly to glance at what he had gestured to, Jana stops dead in her tracks at the sight walking towards the pool.

Garrus …. Oh wow ….

She barely even notices Nihlus walking beside Garrus because all of her attention in on the royal blue tattoos all over Garrus’ body, from the top of his neck to his toes - and she’s pretty sure beneath his towel as well. The only part of him not covered in them is his face and wings, but she can’t believe she never noticed the thick, diagonal bands on his neck that look like they wrap around to the back and base of his skull. It accounts for her obliviousness that she never noticed with how prominent they are … or maybe he purposely made it hard to see them. Yet, that still isn’t the most shocking thing about his - beautiful - body that she could see.

On his chest …. It’s just like mine ….

He must catch sight of the marking on her chest at the same time she does his because he stops in his tracks, mandibles flickering wildly. Nihlus flicks him with a wing as he passes towards the bath but Garrus seems just as frozen in place as Jana as they each stare at the black bird and geometric designs mirrored on the other’s chest.

In the same spot ….

“I …. Uh …. I have to go,” she quickly says, standing straight up in the bath and not even using the steps as she just climbs where she’d been seated to get out of the water. “I forgot that I have to do something back at the ship …” she adds and quickly grabs her towel and clothes, pulling them to her chest as she tries to make a quick escape.

“Wait,” Garrus calls for her, stepping in her way with an apology trilling in his vocals and his mandibles drawn down in guilt, wings folding in on themselves. “Did I do this? Do you want me to leave because I can do this another time …. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” he says as he motions his body. “Do they bother you?”

It takes her a moment to realize what he’s asking as she shakes her head hurriedly. “No, absolutely not ,” she responds, hands gripping her clothes harder. “I just …. It’s not you, but I just have to go . But, please , don’t think it’s you ….” She takes a deep breath and shifts her clothes so she can reach a hand out and touch his chest - ignoring his slight, sharp intake of air when they touch. “It’s never you …. Please understand,” she whispers.

Purring, his talons ghost along the bottom of her hand as she withdraws as if he wanted to touch her so badly. “I understand, Jana.”

Chapter 22: Paragon

Chapter Text

After the revelations at the bathhouse Jana wasn’t at all ready for, she needs some time to think, some time to herself. Somehow, Tali must have sensed it because she doesn’t follow Jana out, merely checks to see Jana dressing in the main hall before returning to the others and letting Jana leave alone.

She doesn’t know the Kithoi or Garden Districts well enough to even attempt to stray from the path Liara brought them on to get to the bathhouse. So she doesn’t explore alone, using the same streets they walked to get out of the Garden District and through Kithoi, ignoring the numerous shop fronts she’d have loved to explore for the sake of occupying her mind.

Remembering that Zakera wasn’t completely low-class citizen housing and, instead, has shops with helpful sounding names for her curiosity, Jana heads for the wall of the Kithoi District, knowing that following it long enough will bring her to the main doors that’ll lead out of the Citadel proper and onto the docks. Once there, she can navigate easier even if there’ll be more people crowding the area than here, coming in and out of ships and shops to prepare once more for travel on the expansive oceans of Alysim.

She remembers the store Jameson took her to in order to get fitted for a set of armor, The Battered Steel, and that it happens to be in the Zakera District, easily accessible if she can shoulder her way through the crowd. She has no complaints about her armor and, hell, it’s served her well and still holds strong after the beatings it takes every fight, so she’s confident in finding a smaller shield there.

When she steps into the door, she can smell the scent of leather oil and, somehow, a scent that seems metallic and reminds her immediately of freshly cleaned and sharpened blades. She’s not sure if there is such a smell or if it’s her mind playing tricks, but after so long, it feels as comforting to her now as gun oil and spent heat sinks once did in her reality. She doesn’t immediately see anyone at the front counter, sure the asari and krogan are both at work at the forge elsewhere - perhaps in the back or behind the shop - but her entrance must have made enough sound to attract attention because it isn’t long before the krogan makes his appearance.

Glancing his way from the shields on the wall she’s examining, Jana smiles and walks to the counter. “Greetings,” she says, unsure of any kind of gesture to show politeness so she simply ducks her head slightly. “I don’t know if you remember me but-”

“I remember you,” the krogan says, chuckling as he wipes his blackened hands on his already stained apron. “You came in with that mudak, Jameson. Looking for armor ….” He leans on the counter, pupils narrowing as he takes her in. “What you lookin’ for now?”

“I need a smaller shield,” she answers, tapping her vest where she’s tucked her coin purse against her chest. “I forget what Jon called it, but it has a special name ….”

“Buckler?” When she nods, the krogan whose name she can’t remember huffs. “Yeah, I got those. You want custom, though, it’ll cost you extra.”

Jana shakes her head. “I just need something that’ll work. I can’t work with what I have and this might be my only chance to get something for a while before we dock somewhere again.”

He hums and juts his chin towards the wall behind her. “There’s what I got. Pick which of ‘em you want.”

“I don’t have much coin ….”

“We’ll work something out, then,” he responds, standing up and crossing his arms. “You can run an errand or somethin’ for me or Sephone.”

Jana nods and looks up at the bucklers along the wall above and beside the door, examining each. “Can I test any of them for weight?”

“Go ahead.”

She hums in thought as she looks, attention attracted to a circular, wooden shield with a large, rounded metal centerpiece and three curving, red triangles painted around it. It’s above another shield, but within reach if she stands on her toes and, pulling it up and off its hook, she can already tell it’s too cumbersome. She sighs and wraps the strap around her arm anyways and holds it up as if taking a position to guard against an attack. Still, it feels too heavy.

“No that one,” the krogan whose name she doesn’t remember grumbles from his place at the counter.

He exhales with a hum and leaves his place, rounding the counter and coming to her. She offers the shield back, feeling like she’s overstepped, but she’s surprised when he places it back without reprimand. He then stands back, looking the selection over, eyes dilating as he seems to think over the shields.

“This one,” he says with a point to another round buckler above the door that’s like the one she tried before, only with blue and red swirls that remind her of waves surrounding the center, slightly raised piece of metal.

He reaches up, having to stretch himself despite his size and reach, and pulls down the buckler. Offering it to her, he grunts when she blinks in surprise at the drastic change in weight between the two, very similar shields.

“It’s really light,” she says, wrapping the strap around her forearm and feigning a block from an imaginary blow coming down at her head. “Wow …. It’s perfect.”

“You know what that’s for?” the krogan says with a huff, tapping his finger on the centerpiece of the buckler. “It’s to bash your enemy with. Hurts like a kakliosaur kicked you in the quad if you hit hard enough.”

She huffs and chuckles lightly. “I’ll have to take your credit for that, but thanks for explaining it.” Slipping it off her arm, she holds it in both hands, looking at the swirling markings painted on its wooden surface. “How much?”

“How much you got?”

Snorting, she raises a brow and lowers the shield to look him in the eyes. “Oh, no. I know that trick. You give me a price and then we talk.”

The krogan laughs, a deep bellowing sound and smacks Jana on the arm. “I like you, kid. Alright, I’ll go easy on you …. A Royal and a Noble will cover it if you keep comin’ back when you need more equipment.”

Pursing her lips, Jana hands the krogan her buckler to hold as she retrieves her pouch of money. She’s sure to hide its contents from him as she searches through what meager earnings she’s gotten from working with Jon, but she finds what she’s looking for.

“I can’t convince you to go down to a Royal?” she asks, sure he’ll say ‘no’ but willing to try it anyway.

His eyes narrow and he growls softly in his throat. “Don’t go and push it, girl.”

Properly admonished, Jana nods and lets out a deep breath. “Yeah, just thought it’s worth the try. I have your Royal and Noble.”

She reaches into her coin purse and fetches a gold coin about the size of her palm with a sun on one side and a griffon on the other and a silver coin about the same size with a stag on one side and a crescent moon on the other. It’s lucky she’s learned the names, amounts, and slang for the coinage here in Alysim or she’s sure someone less honest would be ripping her off. As it is, the krogan looks over the coins before nodding and grunting.

“Oh,” Jana says as she takes the buckler from the krogan blacksmith. “Do you happen to know where I can get a book with blank pages?”

“What’d you want that for?” He raises a brow and his pupils narrow into slits. “Ain’t gonna find that but in the Citadel. Probably only the University or somethin’. Don’t know … don’t care.”

Jana sighs, dejected as she resolves to not finding a journal to add to her own once she runs out of empty pages unless she asks someone from the Normandy to take her somewhere they know will have one. Instead, she takes her buckler with her out the door, slinging it onto her back as she steps out into the crowd of passing sailors and - now that she gets a good look - what seems to be the citizens of the poorer class.

Now that she truly thinks about it, there may even be refugees searching the District for a place to huddle down or even find meager work to buy food with in order to survive. With the docks here, there may be no other logical place for them to stay or go. She’s certain that the Citadel wouldn’t just let them wander the pristine streets of Kithoi or the Garden Districts. Maybe in the lower class Districts, but it seems that they’d already be filled to capacity with regular citizens, let alone have room for refugees coming in from nations already under siege.

“Kick the f*ckin' kok again, Hymjal!” she hears a man shout from a tiny alley between the Battered Steel and a building called The Traders’ Bank along with the sounds of grunts and obvious beating against flesh. “Harder!”

Scowling, she shrugs to adjust the buckler’s strap on her shoulder and enters the alley. It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust to the gloom, but when they do, she sees a scene playing out of a group of five human men - one of them may even be a woman judging by the softer features of her face - kicking and beating a batarian in a fetal position in order to protect their face and head from the brunt of the attack.

Racist bastards ….

“Hey!” She squares her shoulders, knowing they heard her shout with the way the tight alley makes echoes of any and every sound. “I said ‘hey!’ Leave them alone!” she shouts as she stomps closer to the group, grabbing one by the shoulder and yanking him away from their victim, ducking under the punch the man blindly swings at her.

She punches him in the stomach, hard, and he coughs and barks a surprised sound that gets the others’ attention. They turn their anger on her and one spits on the ground before he speaks.

“What you want, ya bitchin’ cur?” The supposed leader steps forward and crosses his arms.

He’s taller than Jana by a few inches and carries a small dagger on his hip and a deep scowl on his ache scarred face, but she doesn’t flinch. She’s handled plenty of racist assholes and brawls in her lifetime - and she has the advantage of not already being tired and panting from the beating they’d been giving the poor batarian.

“I said ‘leave him alone,’” she repeats, smirking. “Or did your mother drop you on the ground and now you don’t understand the first time.”

The man practically growls as he withdraws his dagger and starts to draw closer, his group close behind, “You f*ckin' sow. How about I cut you open? Then we’ll see how smart you can talk.”

He charges, the other four following close behind. Leading with a stabbing of his dagger, Jana easily spins aside, using his momentum to kick him in the lower back - hard - and hears a slight snap at the contact of her booted foot and his clothed back.

He howls and falls, but she doesn’t have time to gloat as another throws a punch she can read a mile away. Ducking beneath the fist, she comes back up and throws two quick jabs of her own, one in the belly and another in the face when he bends over himself. She steps aside for another attacker, seeing the supposed woman walking slowly towards the fight with another dagger - or maybe even a kitchen knife by the look of it.

Jana parries a punch and knees her next opponent in the stomach and shoves him to the ground as she keeps an eye on the slowly approaching woman. She’s much wearier of Jana’s skills, that’s obvious, but the woman doesn’t look like she’s had much training other than one-sided beatings.

A stocky, stinking man runs at her with his hands hiding his face and Jana lets him get a punch in against her crossed wrists, blocking it before dropping down and sweeping his legs. He tumbles with a high pitched squeal like the pig he is and Jana finally turns to the woman armed with her knife, given some reprieve for a moment as the others clamor to their feet.

With a screech, the woman charges, raising the blade high over her head, ready for the downward stab. Jana jumps back just in time to see the flash of blade slice through the air, waiting until it’s low before using a forearm to hit the woman’s arm and knock the knife from her hand. Unarmed and surprised, the woman isn’t ready for the hard stomp Jana brings down on her ankle, crippling her as she drops to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

With leader and knife-wielding woman down on the ground without any signs of wanting to get up and continue the fight, the others take up arms again. Fat man is stained with whatever is creating the puddles in the alley and is much slower to attack this time. So is another man - showing a chipped front tooth through his scowl - but the first lackey to get a one-two is eager and charges with a low, gravelly growl.

Only to get something thrown at the back of his head, the thing making an audible crack as it hits him hard enough that he stumbles, eyes going hazy a moment. Jana smirks and glances over his shoulder to see the batarian has taken a stand and armed himself with a brick, most likely the second to use after hitting the idiot in front of her with the first.

“Fockin' sh*t!” he yells, clasping a hand to his head as he nearly trips on his next step. “Who-”

Jana doesn’t let him finish his question though as she covers the two steps between them, grabs his head, and brings it down on her thrusting knee. She hears the snap of something in his face break and he makes a gurgling yowl as she shoves him aside. Quickly scooping up the brick from the alley floor, she readies it for the other two, challenging them.

“f*ck this,” the fatter of the two says, shaking his head as he looks between Jana and the batarian. “This isn’t over, kok! ” he shouts as he makes a break for it, rushing back Jana.

She lets him pass, but not before calling out her own warning. “Come near him and you’ll be sporting my boot so far up your ass, you’ll taste leather!”

Turning her gaze to the last of the group, hearing the others grunt and grown as they collect their battered selves, she smirks. “You want more?” she asks, hefting the brick in her hand. “Because I don’t think your buddies are gonna help you.”

“Bug,” the leader groans, holding his back and hunched over as if he’s seriously injured and hurting bad. “It ain’t worth it ….”

“Thought I was a ‘f*cking sow?’ Or a ‘bitching curr?’” She grins at the batarian before glancing back at the ‘leader.’ “Should I ask my friend here what that means? I’m probably not going to like it, right?”

The man frowns as his buddies go to his aid, one of them trying to help by picking up his dagger. He snatches it away and holds it down at his side as he grumbles.

“N … no,” he says, almost too weak to be heard. “Look, just let us go …. Abham was just talkin’. We won’t come near him, I swear.”

Jana narrows her eyes and clenches the brick harder, just wishing she could beat the racist assholes up some more, but she has the decency to give in when someone cries mercy. She just has to think about if it’s worth it to believe them when they could very well just turn around and beat another batarian when she’s not around - hell, maybe even the same batarian just out of spite.

“I suggest you pick up a new profession, assholes,” she says with a growl and glares at them. “If I hear you’re still beating up poor, unarmed people, I’ll find you …. And I won’t be so nice next time. Consider this,” she motions the alley and explains, “just a teaser at what I can do to you.”

She looks at the batarian and tilts her head towards his attackers, thinking it’s entirely up to him to let them go.

He stares at her, confusion clear on his face before he understands. “You’re asking me?” After she nods, he’s even more stunned and the brick falls from his hand. “ Khatagtai , I cannot make decisions. That is the right of Zakhirakh only.”

Jana frowns, not knowing those words, but she understands that something about him limits him from being the judge of these brutes. Exhaling a long breath, she looks to the beaten brawlers and jerks her head. “Get out of here, assholes. Remember, you mess with anyone, I’ll find you and finish this.”

They can’t seem to escape the alley fast enough as they help the crippled to get out of Jana’s sight - and fast. It leaves her with the batarian who seems as if they’d been beating him for quick some time with his swollen features and slight limp when he comes closer.

“I cannot thank you enough, Khatagtai ,” he says, barely above a whisper, as he bows to one knee, dipping his head. “Please let me find a way to thank you for my life, Khatagtai. ”

“Whoa, hey.” She holds out a hand and touches his shoulder, getting his attention though he flinches. “Get up off the ground. You really don’t need to do that,” she says as she lifts her hand and holds it out to help him up.

“I must show respect to any Zakhirakh , no matter the species. Anyone above my caste must be properly addressed and spoken to.” He quickly releases her hand as soon as he’s up and steady enough to stand on his own. He still dips his head as he brushes off his clothing - nothing more than rags, more like .

“Forgive me for not knowing all the terms you’re using, but, please, don’t treat me any better than you.” She holds out a hand and shakes her head. “I want you to consider yourself my equal here.”

“I can’t-”

“ Please …. Just try?”

He mulls over the request, a deep frown taking over his swollen features before he gives a forced nod. “I shall try. If it’s what you want, then I can try for the sake of beginning to repay my debt.”

“Yeah ….” Jana rubs the back of her neck and looks away from him. “Let’s not talk about it like that either. You don’t owe me-” She holds up a hand to still his protest. “Try to think of it that way too.” Taking a deep breath, she motions the opening of the alley and light of the docks beyond. “Maybe I can help you back off the docks? Do you have somewhere you’re staying? Maybe with some other batarian refugees?”

He wrings his hands as he follows her with unsteady steps. He seems hesitant and worried as he hums over his thoughts.

“I try to find a place at the refugee camps on the outskirts of the wall of Zakera. Batarians like me try to stick together for safety, but there are many others like those men,” he says, his voice raspy as if his throat is raw from screaming.

It might very well be …..

“Bastards,” she says, but smiles at him to make sure he understands she isn’t aiming her anger at him.

Finally out in the sun, she can better see him and the damage done. His face is definitely beginning to swell from the attack, but his eyes are a lighter brown than she’s seen before. What gets her attention above all else, however, are the symbols on his face.

Along the nasal ridges between his eyes is a pictogram of a sideways sitting, capital D above a vertical, wavy line. It looks more like a painted, raised scar than a tattoo, however, and Jana fights back her frown at the thought of just how painful it must have been to get.

“My name’s Jana, by the way,” she says to fill the silence that had started to get uncomfortable between them. “Can I ask your name?” She chuckles lightly. “That way maybe I can check up on you again once I return to the Citadel.”

“You’re a sailor? A warrior on one of the ships?” he asks with a motion to her shield and, when she nods, his gaze drops to the planks of the docks. “To be rescued by a warrior of your people is a great honor. More so than any other coming to my aid.” Finally looking back up to her, he gives her an apologetic frown. “Forgive me …. I was only meaning by my culture.”

“No, it’s alright,” she says with a smile and moves to lay a hand on his shoulder, but immediately stops when he flinches. “Trust me, I’m learning about everyone’s cultures. I don’t mind hearing about yours. Warriors are greatly respected by your people?”

“Our Emperor is a warrior, and he leads a great army. Every Emperor gains his throne by overthrowing his predecessor. To be a warrior is to be powerful,” he adds with a stern look to his face. “It is an honor just to speak to a warrior of the human people.”

Jana huffs and rubs her neck. “Uh, thanks. But you don’t need to be so formal.”

“Harak.”

“Beg pardon?”

“My name,” he whispers, ducking his head. “I’m sorry, Khatagtai. I thought you wanted my name. Forgive me for misspeaking.”

“Oh, no,” Jana says quickly. “I was just surprised to hear it after us getting sidetracked talking about your people.” She chuckles and smiles for him. “It’s nice to meet you, Harak.”

Much like Harak had described, they find tents and haphazardly thrown up shelters belonging to the refugee camp situated behind the protective curvature of Zakera’s half-wall. It’s such a saddening sight to see what’s become of the society here and that the grandeur of the Citadel seems to have stopped at the wall of Zakera, leaving those here in this camp to fend for themselves. There are no solid structures for living spaces and it looks like there’s little evidence of food supplies large enough for all of them.

Hell, there’s not even enough space for people to have any breathing room, let alone true privacy. It’s no wonder that tensions are high enough that people of different races are huddling together in like groups where any little overlap is creating violence.

“ This is where you guys have to live?” she says, eyes wide at the stunning lack of any kind of higher-order or Citadel aid. “Damn ….”

“Yes, Khatagtai, ” Harak says with a dip of his head. “But we are grateful for it. I cannot complain because, as a slave, I had lived in much worse conditions.”

That must explain the scars on his nasal ridges …. He was a slave.

“Slave?” She frowns. “I hope you’re free now, Harak. Do you need help freeing yourself?”

“Oh, no, Khatagtai. ” He dips his head and says, “You bless me with your offer. But I am free of my Ondor Mastyer. Of that, I am eternally grateful to that which fate has dealt.”

Good .

Still, Jana lets out a long, upset breath. “This is no way to live …. Does the Citadel not offer anything? No aid?”

“I’m not sure,” Harak says, frowning in thought. “Of my group, I am not a high enough caste to handle and supply the others with food. My teachings as a servant of the Ondor Togooch don’t do us any good with what little we do manage to receive.”

“Something more should be done,” Jana mumbles to herself, wondering if Jon could pull more resources to the refugee camp with his Templar status. Or even if Garrus, as Atheling, could now that she can see turians among the refugees. “Maybe I can pull some strings to help everyone out here.”

“Anything would be greatly appreciated by everyone, Khatagtai ,” he says with another dip of his head. “Even those who choose violence need help. They cannot be blamed for choosing to resort to attacking others for food and spaces to sleep.”

“They still shouldn’t do it,” Jana retorts with a frown, watching how the refugees - a lot of them - are keeping to themselves and their own species through self-imposed segregation. “It might be a lot easier to rely on each other, help each other. Share the burdens.”

Sighing, she scratches her head and looks around to see if there’s any sign of Citadel aid, whether it be officials from the city guard or government. She’d even take someone from the dockworkers around to see if they’re helping in any way.

She does catch sight of what seems to be one of the dock managers and she points to them, leaning closer to Harak to ask, “Does he show up here often?”

“He’s one of the dockmasters,” Harak answers, humming as he seems to think. “I remember him some days managing who is allowed into the refugee camps and who must return to their vessels.”

“‘Return?’ What the hell for?”

“There isn’t enough room for everyone, Khatagtai.” He dips his head, not seeing Jana heading for the dock manager until he lifts his head, meaning he has to hurry in his steps to catch up.

“Hey,” Jana says as she approaches the dockmaster - a human male - and another man obviously seeking permission for refuge.

“I’m busy, here,” the dock manager drawls, holding up a hand to her. “You’ll have to wait before I can hear you out.”

“Please,” the other man says, holding his hands out, clasping them together in a plea. “We have nowhere else to go.”

“And we don’t have much room left.” The dockmaster seems highly uninterested in the man’s plight and motions the refugee camp. “If I let every single family off their ships, then what do you think’s gonna happen here? We. Don’t. Have. Room. How many times I gotta say it?”

The man lays his head in his hands, his shoulders hitching. “My family’s on a trader ship …. My wife’s pregnant and my daughter only four. They can’t work …. But, please, I can pay. I can work aboard the Kadwen and pay for them staying.”

The dockmaster seems to think it over before Jana clears her throat, getting everyone’s attention. “Look, the guy’s family obviously can’t stay aboard a trading vessel,” she says to the dock manager, her tone of voice stern and slightly annoyed. “Let him work their way, but like hell will you turn them away in their state. A pregnant woman and a four-year-old , man. Are you insane or just heartless?”

“You ….” The dock manager scowls. “Just who do you think you are?”

Puffing out her chest, she motions a thumb back towards the wall of Zakera. “I’m a soldier aboard the Normandy under Templar Jon Shepard. You don’t want the Templar and Atheling of Palaven to know you’re turning innocent people away, do you?”

He narrows his eyes. “You lie ….”

“Wanna try me?” She crosses her arms and jerks her head towards the begging refugee. “Let them off the ship and into the camps. There’s room for plenty more, desperate people. You turn them away, and their blood’s on your hands.” She narrows her own eyes. “You want that on your conscience?”

“I wouldn’t have done anything to them!” He jabs a finger at her and she swipes it away, but the other man speaks first.

“And they’d die because of it,” the father snaps, tearing up. “ Please . Maker, please.”

The dockmaster seems to think it over long and hard before grumbling and nodding. “Get your family off, but you’re paying for their food.”

“Bullsh*t-”

“I’ll do it,” the other man interrupts Jana, holding out a hand to her to placate her. “I can buy their food and a place for them here. And I can repay the trader Captain for saving our lives.” He holds out his hands to Jana once the dock manager waves them off and storms off with a derisive huff. “Thank you,” he says quickly as he takes her hand in both of his. “Thank you,” he repeats, giving her hand a kiss before rushing off towards the docks to retrieve his family.

Harak watches the man go before turning back to Jana and smiling softly. “You truly are a savior for the people.”

Not likely, but if I can just follow Jon’s example, then maybe I can do my part.

Chapter 23: The Markets

Chapter Text

The instructor sighs, a slight disappointment unlying the sound. “Again,” they say, but Jana cannot see their face, cannot make them out in the blurred peripheral of her tunnel vision. “Fight like the warrior you are, not like children fighting with wooden swords.”

She grits her teeth at their words, biting back her sharp retort. Instead, she spins her sword in her hand before gripping its handle with both hands and slashing down against the blurred, featureless shadow of a training dummy with all her strength. The long blade comes down against the helmet and breaks through the metal with a loud crack that echoes through the air.

“Good, if your enemy stands still like this dummy,” the instructor says again, their voice hard to distinguish as male or female.

“Maybe you should stand here ‘like this dummy,’” Jana hears herself think, her voice silent even though she knows she’s spoken the words judging by the instructor’s bark of laughter.

“You wouldn’t last,” they say, their voice moving around behind them as they circle Jana and her training dummy. “Your attitude will get you killed. Lack of control will be your downfall and what then? What’ll you do when you’re nothing more than a pretty face?”

Jana wants to throw down the sword - one longer than she knows she usually wields and obviously not hers - and turn on the instructor, showing them her ‘lack of control.’ She knows she can do it, she can beat them with her fists if she has to, but something stops her from truly feeding her temper.

I need to be the best. I have to prove myself or I’m nothing. What would I be if I can’t fight like everyone else?

Jana ponders over her dream as she eats, not even tasting her food as she stares at the plate and thinks.

What was that? That never happened …. Am I imagining it? Jon never treated me that way …. I haven’t even trained with those swords that are a mix between short, one-handed swords and large, cumbersome two-handed ones like Ashlin’s. Those are the kind the turians around here use ….

Sighing, Jana shoves the last of her jelly-covered bread in her mouth and gets up. She carries her plate and tankard to the trough with the others and dumps it in, drinking the last of her water before the tankard goes into the water right after. Offhandedly, she thinks of how happy she is that she doesn’t have to do the dishes because the Normandy and her crew sure do produce a hell of a lot of them, but she doesn’t dwell on it for long, too focused on making sense of her dream that didn’t feel like a dream.

How can I feel like it’s a memory when it isn’t? What the hell is wrong with me?

The Normandy hasn’t left the Citadel yet and, with hopes, she can find someone to give her some directions to a bookkeeper where she can buy supplies to continue her journal while at sea. Writing her memories and day-to-day life has become second nature and so integrated into her life that she wouldn’t know what to do if she even went a single day without writing at least something down, whether it be an entire story or a single word.

There’s one more thing she needs to ask someone of this world about. Something that definitely doesn’t seem like it’s going away any time soon.

The odd tattoo-like image she and Garrus both seem to have, hers appearing just the other morning without warning or reason.

Tali’s already taken off for the morning, most likely at Jon’s side - or even following Jana’s example and exploring the Zakera District while they’re still docked for anything she may personally need or want. It's not at all surprising that Tali’s even built a nice friendship with Liara and Jana often joins the two as they chatter about everything under the sun, from their worlds’ differences and similarities to ship gossip. Jana joins them, but she knows she can’t even begin to keep up with the rapid-fire conversations when they start to talk about Tali’s crush on Jon and their budding relationship or stories about different kinds of entertainment here that sound so similar to Tali’s favorite romance vids back home.

The air has a nice chill to it when she steps out onto the dock from the Cargo Hold. Even the crew transporting needed supplies onto and off the ship seem to be enjoying the weather and Jana can’t blame them. Though she wasn’t too big of a fan of the weather at Eden Prime, she will admit she’s always liked the colder air typical on the old space-faring ships back home. There was just something about being in the void of space that left ships with a bit of a brisk chill to the recycled air.

Taking off her half-cloak, she waves over a member of the crew. Sybill, if she recalls correctly.

“Would you mind putting this in my cabin?” she asks the young woman and smiles when she nods. “Thank you so much.”

“Of course, Jana,” Sybill says with a smile of her own. “I don’t have much else to do around here with the horses having some time at the stables.”

Jana leaves the woman to return to the ship and starts off down the docks, gently pushing around sailors, ship bound soldiers, and dockhands. Unexpectedly, she sees a recognizable face above the majority of the crowds, one she would have guessed would be with his family trying to talk some sense into the Council and other politicians and diplomats.

“Hey, Garrus,” she calls out, raising a hand up to try and get his attention when he looks around.

She sees him flare his mandibles in a smile and he holds a hand towards an elegantly dressed female turian in a request to hold on as he makes his way towards Jana, using his wings to impose a certain amount of personal space around him. He looks fantastic in a dark blue doublet that stops midthigh with golden buttons along one side and a short cloak draped over his right shoulder and upper arm. She can’t help but stare the moments before he reaches her, hoping his distraction in moving people aside hides her obvious gawking.

“Jana,” he says as he reaches her, smiling and dipping his head - where she sees he’s wearing a dark blue, lace-like shawl behind his forehead plate. “You’re just in time. My sister, Solana, has made it here on the Justinius. Come meet her,” he adds with a hand on her shoulder.

Her skin warms where he touches her, but she ignores it as he helps her through the crowd towards the female turian he had previously been speaking with.

“Solana, this is Jana,” he says with a proud rumble, smiling at his sister. “She’s the one I was telling you about.”

Solana is dressed similarly to Garrus, though her ivory tunic is much more suited to her more feminine figure. Instead of the single shoulder cloak, she wears a kind of coat that has fabric in the same ivory and gold colors that drapes downward from her shoulders to her spurs. She too wears a shawl of blue and white lace set just behind her forehead plate.

She hums as she looks Jana over before dipping her head. “Salvete, Jana.”

Jana smiles and dips much lower than Solana to show greater respect. “It’s an honor to meet you,” she says before smiling. “I hope Garrus has said too many embarrassing things about me,” she jokes with a slight chuckle.

Garrus trills at Solana’s smirk and amused rumble. “You’re very safe from anything like that. My brother is quite enamored with your skills,” she says cryptically and Garrus clears his throat, anxious vocals only becoming more prominent. “He’s had only good things to say about you.”

It’s Jana’s turn to be nervous as she chuckles, inwardly cringing. What did Garrus possibly have to say to his sister? It’s not like her constant attempts to avoid him are anything to brag about.

“Forgive my asking, but is there any relation with Templar Shepard?” Solana clasps her hands behind her back and tilts her head ever so slightly. “Not only do you share names - that’s quite commonplace - but you both sound very alike by Garrus’ stories. Templar Shepard is an honorable man, a good warrior and representative of your people. The Hierarchy crown greatly respects him.” She hums and glances to her obviously fidgety brother. “However, Garrus does speak of a conjunction of our realms bringing you here. So tell me, is he just trying to make you sound mysterious?” she asks Jana with a teasing flare of a mandible.

“Sol ….”

Jana smiles at Solana, then Garrus. “It’s alright. I don’t mind that kind of question.” She shrugs and says, “I have nothing to hide and I don’t really think where I came from is all that believable even if it did make its way all around Alysim.

“I’m not related to Jon in a kind of way you’d think. I do come from another reality along with my friend, Tali’Zorah. I have to admit the two worlds are completely different, but the people ….” She hums and cups her chin, thinking on how to explain it best without causing any kind of curiosity involving the three of them specifically.

“The people are very alike,” she finally says. “I think I might be my universe’s version of Jon and he mine, but everyone else is so alike. I haven’t seen everyone and I’m meeting a ton of new people here than I knew there, but it’s kinda eerie how familiar it feels.”

“Very interesting,” Solana says with a low hum, dropping her arms to her sides and flicking her wings slightly as she looks around the docks. “You can’t imagine how many scholars live for that kind of information. Many spend their entire lives trying to prove the idea of there being other realms that are like mirrors of our own, not just realms of our deities or that of Chaos where the Reapers hail from.”

“We haven’t really had the time to just stick around the University,” Garrus tells his sister with a huff. “And the Council surely wouldn’t take Jana’s experiences as warnings of what’s to come.”

Jana frowns and nods when Solana glances at her. “It’s true …. My own Council didn’t even believe me when I brought them all kinds of evidence. Jon knows even more than I do ever since they collected and are translating the runes from inscriptions at Mars. I … didn’t get that.”

“Can you go back?” Solana asks, tilting her head as she rumbles curiously. “Just imagine the kind of breakthrough that’d be to travel between realms at will.”

Again, Jana frowns and shakes her head, taking a deep breath and letting it out with a sigh. “I barely know how we got here. It happened so fast. One moment we were near an obelisk, reaching out to touch it, and the next we were waking up outside the fort at Mars.”

“Unfortunate,” is all Solana says as she hums, gaze moving to the turian soldiers leaving the large ship with turian script painted on its side.

“Athelina Solana,” a robed turian female says, dipping her head in greeting to the group as she tucks her hands into its large sleeves. She’s wearing an outfit similar to Mierin’s, which must mean she’s a fellow Praetorian Guard. “Atheling Garrus. The Primarch is awaiting you at the Citadel Tower.”

Jana can hear a reluctant, annoyed rumble from Garrus as Solana nods to her guard. Turning to them, she flicks her mandibles in amusem*nt.

“Oh, calm yourself, Garrus,” Solana says with a chuckle. “You should stay here. I don’t think having the entire royal family would lead to many of the races joining us. We can’t intimidate them into an alliance.” Looking down at Jana, Solana smiles. “I bet you haven’t seen the full potential of the Citadel? Perhaps Garrus can show you around the Kithoi District?”

Jana feels a slight blush creep up her neck at the surprised, yet not unpleasant, trill coming from Garrus beside her. “I’d like that,” she says, glancing at Garrus. “If you aren’t already busy elsewhere.”

He hums, as if considering it. “Well,” he drawls. “I can either go with Sol and be stuck in long debates and talks of an alliance, which would be easier if we all just talked to a wall … or I can go with you and enjoy myself.” Smiling with a flare of his mandibles, he nods with a warm thrum. “I think I’d rather brave the markets with you,” he says to Jana.

That blush reaches her cheeks as Jana’s throat goes dry, but she manages a nod and hum in agreement. Garrus doesn’t seem to mind as he looks to his sister with a rumble of thanks.

“Hey!” a voice yells through the crowd and Jana sees its source, Jac, shoving her way through the crowds towards them. "Get the f*ck out of the way, people!"

“I’ll leave you to your friend,” Solana says with a chuckle as she turns to her Praetorians with a nod, letting them box her in to protect her from the crowd as they head towards the Citadel. “It was a pleasure, Jana.”

“Jac,” Garrus drawls with a smirk as she approaches. “I thought you’d had enough of us.”

“Of you,” she retorts, crossing her arms over her barely clothed chest. “Where’s the Golden Boy? It’s … important.”

Garrus glances at Jana and she shrugs. Humming himself, he shrugs as well. “I haven’t seen him since this morning when I set off from the Normandy. He was overseeing the supplies being brought onto the ship. We disembark tomorrow. He’s probably with a dockmaster.”

“He better be,” Jac says with a twitch of her lip in frustration. “It’s important.”

“You can always wait up at the Normandy if he isn’t there,” Jana offers and shrugs when Jac lifts a brow at her. “I don’t know …. I just think maybe he might be taking a day to relax, is all.”

“Yeah, with the weirdly armored quarian, no doubt.” Jac snorts but looks around in the crowd, but Jana knows she can’t see above the various heads to get a good look of the Normandy and her gang of crew. “I don’t have all day to wait up on his ass. Miri doesn’t have all damn day.”

“‘Miri,’ is it now?” Garrus asks with a teasing rumble to his vocals and a smirking mandible. “That’s your new name for her?”

“Shut it and wipe that sh*t-eating grin off your face. Actin’ like I can’t call people whatever I want,” Jac shows her teeth with a curl of her lip and Garrus hums, admonished, but still very obviously intrigued by the apparent shift in whatever relationship Jac and who Jana thinks is Miranda Lawson.

Jac gives a low growl before she gives both Jana and Garrus a long look, huffing at them in parting as she starts on her way to the Normandy, shoving any dock worker or ships’ crew out of her way. The two watch her go and, once she thinks Jac is well out of hearing range, Jana chuckles lightly.

“I sure as hell know my Jack wouldn’t be calling Miranda by any nicknames. Things must be way different here,” she says with a smile up at Garrus and he flutters his mandibles.

He huffs a laugh and nods. “Yeah …. Last I saw, they were on speaking terms and no longer fighting like a pair of varrens in the Arena, but they certainly weren’t at the stage of having nicknames.” Rumbling humorously, he chuckles softly. “I don’t even think Miranda let Jon call her anything like ‘Miri.’”

Jana snorts at the way he pitches his voice to imitate Jac. His attempt to mimic the angry biotic -mage, gotta think of them as mages now - who is not only a human, but female as well definitely doesn’t sound anything like Jac. That, and it’s obvious he can’t raise his voice to hit a high enough tone to sound more feminine, so his vocals end up cracking halfway through his imitation. Overall, it sounds pretty damn ridiculous.

He shares in her laugh, his smokey voice smooth as he flares his mandibles. A warmth fills her at the sight and sound of his happiness and she turns aside just enough so that he can confuse her blush for a trick of the sun against her face. Perhaps she can even chalk it off to a flush from the slight chill than anything he could have done should anyone happen upon them or he bring attention to it.

Humming in an attempt to control the flutters in her chest, Jana smiles at him and tilts her head towards the Citadel. “So, um …. Solana said you should take me shopping?” she says, the words sounding absolutely ridiculous and she swears she heard her voice break a bit in nervousness.

She chuckles awkwardly to hide it, though he doesn’t seem to have noticed the pitch in her voice. If he did, he doesn’t say anything about it or give any physical tell he caught it.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” He smiles, mandibles flaring and giving a few slight twitches. “Anything in particular you want to look for? I mean … we can go wherever, but the markets are huge and it’s usually better to have at least some ideas what to look for.”

Jana chews on her lip a moment, going through a list of things she needs. She certainly doesn’t want to ask him to taking her looking for clothes - it just feels odd to ask of from the guy she’s guiltily falling for.

Dammit, Jana …. You’re just putting him in the place of your Garrus ….

Am I, though?

Deciding not to ask Garrus to look for anything that might be taken in any other way but for a utilitarian use, Jana nods and motions for him to lead the way as they talk. “I was thinking of asking someone to help me find some more supplies for my writing.”

“Oh,” he says with a perk of attention. “That journal you’ve been keeping, right?” When she nods, he hums and nods in thought. “Yeah, I could see how you’d want that in case we don’t get an opportunity like this for a while. Sure, I think I know of a few places that might have something like you need.”

As the crowds seem to thin out closer to the Citadel doors, Jana feels comfortable enough to pick up conversation again, sure that there aren’t many people close enough to eavesdrop.

“So, your sister,” she starts, glancing up at him to make sure he doesn’t give off an expression that might speak of him not wanting to continue the topic - of which she sees nothing but a nod and flick of his mandible as he looks down to her. “She seems nice, even if it was a rushed encounter.”

“Yeah,” he replies with a tilt of his head and low hum. “She doesn’t mean to give off that kind of air, but Sol always seems to have something needing her attention.” He huffs with a quirk of his mandible. “She’s a lot more - hmm - responsible than I am.”

“Come on, now. I think you’re pretty damn responsible. How you took care of the attack at Taetrus? Commanding the soldiers on Menae?” She nods and with a proud smile.

“Most of that was Jon-”

“Like hell,” she interrupts, chuckling at his surprised look. “Sorry, but no. You did an amazing job there. When we were in the thick of it, it wasn’t just Jon pulling us through.” Humming, she bites her lip in thought of how to put her thoughts to the right words considering that idioms from her reality might not translate here. “When things got tense, you commanded your people better than Jon could have. That’s why he left it to you and you picked that up without hesitation.” His embarrassed mandible flutters make her smile, making her admit to herself that she really does enjoy seeing him flustered by the simplest - yet wholesome - things.

“I don’t know,” he says with a weak rumble, trying for a chuckle as he rubs his neck, reminding Jana of his full body tattoos when his fingers brush the thick band of blue ink on the hide of his neck. “If you really think so ….”

“I know so,” she corrects as they make their way into the district and the bustling sounds of the market vendors calling out their wares over the din of the crowds. “Give yourself credit. You may go about it differently, but I bet you’re just like your sister when the time calls for it.”

This time, Garrus really does chuckle nervously, the sound carrying a hint of disbelief. “I may know a thing or two about military strategy and how to command in battle, but Sol definitely knows what it takes to rule a people. She knows politics, economy, trade … all of it,” he says with a wave of his hand. “She’s much smarter about the inner workings of being a Primarch than I am. And .… I guess I just don’t want to rule,” he adds with a shrug. “I don’t really feel like I could shoulder that much responsibility on my own. I mean, take me for example. I fight the small battles when she sees the war. I help Jon and she helps our people, and Alysim as a whole, and I guess it’s just easier for her to see it that way whereas I want to solve what I can see right in front of me.”

Jana is quiet for a long time, considering his words. She doesn’t know Garrus well enough to say whether or not he’s a big picture kind of turian, but she knows he’s not giving himself enough credit.

Exactly how much he does for the whole of his race and the world, she doesn’t know, but from her place in this reality, she can see him carrying one hell of a weight on his shoulders.

“Garrus?” Jana bites her lip, thinking hard on if she should ask the question that’s been nagging at her since the bathhouse the day before.

When I saw all of him …. All his …

“I have a question,” she finally says, feeling his gaze on her. “It’s about yesterday ….” When realization registers on his face about just what this conversation may be about, she hums and nods. “Yeah …. It’s about the bathhouse.”

“If I made you uncomfortable-” he starts, rubbing his neck as he looks away from her, avoiding her eyes, but she clears her throat.

“I wasn’t uncomfortable,” she insists, forcing a smile through her nerves. “I just …. I’m confused what’s happened to me.” She lays a hand on her chest, feeling her ring beneath her tunic, but also highly aware of the black tattoo-like markings there. “There’s this …. I guess you can call it a mark? It’s like what I’d think a tattoo would be like, but I just … woke up with it yesterday.” Swallowing hard, she chews the corner of her lip, worrying it for a long time as she thinks about her next statement.

“Did you … have the same thing on your chest?” she asks softly, anxiety making the skin on her neck prickle. “A black bird, chevrons, and sharp lines and circles?”

“Oh, uh ….” Garrus pulls his mandibles to his jaw, releasing a long, drawling buzz with his subvocals. "Utique,” he says with a guilty sounding huff. “I guess you’re right …. We do have the same marking on us.”

“But what is it?”

“Well ….” He scratches his mandible, making a thoughtful sound with his vocals. “Well, no one really knows a lot about it, just that it shows up on people who are important. To each other, I mean ….”He shrugs, though Jana can still see tension in his shoulders. “No one knows how it happens or what kind of importance it is, but just that the two people who have it are important to the other.”

“That’s it?” Jana frowns when he nods and stares at the ground for a long time before asking, “Why did it show up all of a sudden?”

“I think it happens with touch …. That’s what people say, anyway.” He huffs nervously and tries to flick a mandible in a smile. “That’s what I’ve heard. Never had something like it before ….”

“And … the others?” Jana blushes when Garrus tilts his head in confusion, sure she just admitted to staring at his full-body tattoos that apparently went unnoticed judging by his confusion around ‘other’ mysterious markings. “The other markings on your body, I mean,” she says softy, biting her lips and trying not to look him in the eyes for fear of further showing her embarrassment at admitting to ogling him at the bathhouse.

“Other …. Oh,” Garrus says, finally understanding and giving a soft, quick laugh. “I almost forgot. The normal Normandy crew are so used to them and I almost forgot you don’t know about them … because you didn’t - I don’t know - act like they bothered you. Did they bother you?”

Now her time to be confused, Jana’s brows furrow as she shakes her head. “Why would they bother me? It doesn’t make any difference to me if you have them or not and, to be honest, of what I did see, it was pretty cool looking.”

She smiles when he flutters his mandibles shyly and rumbles, rubbing his neck as he looks everywhere but back at her. “Uh …. Yeah, thanks ….” He hums again before clearing his throat and seemingly getting control of his mandibles. “It’s not really a verily welcomed custom anymore for my people. I won’t even go on about the other races, but even for my own people, Caelatura, is considered uncivilized and more commonly used by bandits and the barefaced.”

“Well, from what little I saw, it looked impressive no matter what the connotations or prejudices associated with them.”

His mandibles flutter shyly and he flares a mandible when their gazes meet. “Thanks ….”

The world Garrus leads her into is one of bustling crowds, merchants calling out about their extraordinary wares, smells of fresh, delicious foods from open-air storefronts and carts, to overall wonder. It’s a beautiful sight of sorts, with its great white and gold buildings above to the sandstone colored stones in the streets to the well-dressed citizens of the district browsing wares and haggling for deals. Garrus has led her off the beaten path most shipfaring crews and merchants take in Kithoi and, instead, brought her to a place where it seems more extravagant things are sold.

People who work the docks, travel by ship, or sell their goods to travelers don’t seem the kind of people to travel the twists and turns of Kithoi to reach this kind of marketplace deeper within the district. For speciality items, perhaps, but for the most part, this seems a place meant for the varying peoples of the Citadel as a whole.

Well …. Maybe the better off at least. I doubt the lower classes can shop here ….

“What do you think?” Garrus asks, pulling her out of her thoughts and she blinks a few times, making him rumble in amusem*nt. “A lot to take in?”

Jana chuckles lightly and nods, thankful that - at some time she’s not aware of - Garrus has shifted his wing in a way that encircles her enough to keep people at least a small distance away. She admittedly likes the personal space she has in the shadow of his wing and isn’t sure he’s doing it on purpose, but she’s not going to bring it up.

Doing so would only bring attention to how close they’re standing and even now, she’s fighting hard not to blush at the thought of being apart by mere inches.

“Yeah,” she finally says, looking around at all the various carts and storefronts lining the wide thoroughfare. “I mean, my universe had a lot of crowds and shops on the Citadel too, but I don’t know ….” She shrugs and smiles at a small group of multi-species children running by, unattended to by any sort of parents. “This feels so much more … hmm … organic.”

Garrus rumbles as he tilts his head, apparently thinking that over. “I guess I can’t imagine something being that different like you say.”

Jana smiles apologetically. “Yeah, I can’t really think of a way to explain it to myself besides just saying that I like it this way. It feels more ... personable and impactful to see someone selling something than simply manning a kiosk that you do all your shopping with.”

“Sounds … odd,” he finally says, but he flares his mandibles good-naturedly as he jokes, “I really don’t envy you your realm.”

Jana laughs. “Hey, now. I used to live there, you know. It wasn’t that bad.”

“Flying ships?” He buzzes, unconvinced. “And no people around? Sounds like a horrible place to me.”

Snorting, Jana rolls her eyes. “There were people. More than your world, I’m sure.” When he gives her a doubtful look, she nods. “Trust me. If you don’t like the idea of flying ships, you definitely won’t like how I explain how there are so many people in my reality.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” he agrees, giving a slight nod before he lifts his gaze to scan the marketplace. “Oh! There’s something I want you to try,” he says, motioning with a hand to keep at his side while his wing continues to force a way for her through the crowds.

Drawing her towards a storefront where a turian female stands, an apron covering her average attire as she calls out to entice the crowd with ‘Catillamen’ and skewers of the various meats she has hanging from racks or cooking above a fire another female turian is tending. As Jana and Garrus approach, the saleswoman with dark green - almost black - eyes and amber colored plates with red bands down her mandibles turns her attention to them, eyes locking as she lays out her speil.

“Catillamen and spicy skewers! Sweetmeats and carpere!” She shouts as Jana and Garrus nudge their way through the crowd.

A sign juts out from the wall above the store’s door, but it’s written in some kind of language made of different lines intersecting a midline at different angles and in different numbers, which must be turian in nature. However, a better to read banner saying 'Assurance Meats' has been spread above the set of windows showing a shop much like how Jana would imagine a butcher’s shop to look. Numerous meats hang from hooks in the shop and a young turian male - same colors as the saleswoman - is chopping meat off of a thick bone from some animal. A fire and spit are within, perhaps there for when weather keeps them from selling their meats out in the thoroughfare. Jana isn’t sure how weather works in Alysim, but if there’s a winter that reaches the Citadel, she’s sure turians would much rather work from inside their shop.

As it is, today is quite nice for Jana even if the saleswoman before them seems to be wearing a thicker jerkin and long-sleeved shirt beneath her apron.

“Care for some catillamen, dominus?” The saleswoman dips her head low, rumbling submissively and, once again standing, she gives a slight nod in greeting to Jana. “We also have cooked meat skewers you might like.”

“Oh, you’ll like this,” Garrus says with a smile at Jana and gives the woman a nod. “We’ll take two.”

Jana chuckles nervously as the woman slices pieces off of a dark purplish - almost wine-colored - meat from a slab resting on the chopping block of her cart. Meat may be a staple for turians and ‘catillamen' or ‘sweetmeats’ something she assumes is like a delicacy, but, as a human, she doesn’t quite know how meat that's sweet would taste on her palette. Or if she’d even like it.

“Um,” she says before the woman can make the second skewer of the purplish cubes of meat and as Garrus holds out the first for her to take. “I don’t mean any offense, but can I pass?” Huffing nervously so as not to offend Garrus’ offer, she smiles. “I guess with breakfast so soon, I filled up on meats and protein.”

“Oh,” Garrus replies with a few flicks of his mandibles. “Oh!” Realization flashes in his eyes and he chuckles awkwardly, rubbing his neck with his free hand. “Yeah, I forgot …. Humans aren’t really that into catillamen.”

“No, no. It’s not like that,” she says, shaking her head before smiling reassuringly. “I’m sure sweet meat is pretty good, but humans don’t usually eat raw meat and …. If it’s okay with you, I’d much rather have sweet sweets. Like candy or baked goods.” She blushes and it’s her turn to rub at her neck, as she shyly looks away from his and the merchant’s eyes. “I, uh, am a big fan of sweets.”

Humming, Garrus looks at the skewer in his hand a long moment before nodding, as if he’s come to a decision. “Here,” he says as he slips a hand into a pouch hidden on his tunic and retrieves six coins, one copper and five bronze. He hands them to the merchant and she dips her head low in gratitude.

“I have an idea of something you might like, then.” He plucks a cube from his skewer with his mouth and savors it a moment before tipping his head back and swallowing. “I’m sorry …. I really didn’t think about humans not really considering catillamen a special treat like turians do, but I think you’ll like this.”

Garrus guides her through the market towards the delicious smells of what has to be a bakery judging by the scent wafting from its open doors. A salarian herald standing at the door dressed in an elegant purple tunic with embroidered wheat stalks along his chest shouts out about sweets and delicacies customers can only find in a salarian bakery, the recipes straight from Sur’Kesh itself. He nods as Garrus and Jana approach and step into the door of the shop, where the scents of bread, cookies, tarts, and pies immediately surround and overcome Jana’s senses.

She looks around the shop in awe, finding ingredients stashed on shelves across from a large pastry-covered counter where, on shelves behind the merchant, numerous confectionaries rest with steam still billowing from the majority. A door leads to what must be the kitchen, but Jana’s only interested in gazing upon the various items for sale, wondering and anticipating what Garrus has in mind for her.

“Welcome to The Intellectual Baker, Ningzhongs,” the male counter attendant says, cupping his hands together at a diagonal and nodding his head once. “Can I interest you in any of our baked goods? They’re just from the oven.”

“Forgive me for not knowing their proper name, but I’d like to buy some lily cookies,” Garrus says with a soft rumble before glancing at Jana and giving her a soft flare of his mandibles. “I think you’ll like these.”

Jana smiles back at him, grateful for the thought and turns to the salarian to see him nod just before turning his attention to the numerous baked goods laid out over the counter in neat piles.

“Ah-ha!” he declares as he plucks a few oddly shaped pastries from a tall, elegantly balanced tower of more of the same. “Here we are, baihe binggan,” he says as he pulls out a small piece of off-white parchment just big enough for the three pastries from beneath the counter and holds his hands out for Jana and Garrus to see. “'Lily cookies,' as you put it.”

The cookies themselves are a typical golden brown - and a dusting that looks very similar to cinnamon - but there are flecks of various shades of red spread throughout the dough. She can’t tell if they’re petals of the supposed lily, as if the cookies are made with them, or some other kind of seasoning or garnish. They’re folded in a way that truly makes them look like little flowers, making it obvious where they earned their names, and the smell coming from them is strong with the scent of cloves and nutmeg.

Garrus, watching her reaction, smiles when she catches his eyes and she returns the expression, nodding. “Yeah, those look delicious.”

He chuckles and looks at the salarian, giving a nod in go ahead to start wrapping them up. “I’d hoped you might like them. Do you think three is okay?”

“Oh course,” she replies with a huff of amusem*nt. “Sounds like the perfect amount for a snack while we shop.”

She moves to fetch her coin purse when Garrus holds out his free hand, laying it on hers and creating a warmth that blossoms from their point of contact. It doesn’t last, however, when he withdraws nervously with a flutter of his mandibles.

“Uh … sorry.” He clears his throat and tries again, his voice more confident when he speaks again. “I’m paying. My treat.”

She opens her mouth to protest, but he quiets her by holding out her small paper package of cookies for her to take. Huffing, she pouts her lip but doesn’t argue when he fetches more copper and bronze coins, of which she doesn’t bother counting because she’s now realized he isn’t the kind of person to let anyone pay back debts to.

“I like to get things for the people I … uh … care about,” Garrus says hesitantly as they leave the bakery. “Being Atheling can be a bit annoying when no one lets you use the coin you have. It’s not doing me any good just sitting there and using some of it isn’t going to disrupt whatever economic plans my father has.”

“Yeah, but ….” She hums in thought as she peels open her package of cookies and breaks off a small piece of a cookie. “It feels kinda awkward letting someone buy me something. I’m not used to it.”

“Oh,” he seems to slump as his mandibles drop in a frown.

“No, wait,” she quickly says. “I didn’t say I hate it, just that …. I need to get used to it.”

He perks up a bit and flares his mandibles. “Yeah? Well, you let me know whenever you need or want something. I’d be happy to use this title and its coin for any one besides myself all the time.”

Chapter 24: All Aboard

Chapter Text

When Jana and Garrus return, their haul from a long day of shopping in their hands, Jon seems to be concluding his conversation with this world’s Miranda Lawson, the two off to the side of the docks in what little privacy they could find. Jana could only guess it’s Miranda, however, because she’s the last known person Jana knew Jon had to speak to. She could see little of the woman’s actual face from beneath her dark aqua, hooded cloak and elegant, but strong arms extended from slits in her cloak and covered in what looked like a fine, lacy black sleeve.

Giving the two their privacy, Jana and Garrus head to the Normandy to drop off their recently acquired goodies.

At some point, Jana asked Garrus to give her some privacy outside of a clothing merchant and tailor’s shop so she could stock up on more clothes to add to her small amount that are more suitable for off the ship. He only left her once she promised to wait for him outside the shop should he not be back from his own quick exploration of the market. Managing to even get some things for Tali, Jana found Garrus outside of the tailor’s waiting for her with a few sacks of his own and a thin, beautiful looking wooden box.

Tali waves from the top deck as Jana approaches the ship and Jana smiles back, unable to wave with her arms full of goods. She instead jerks her head towards the ship and calls up to her friend.

“Head to our cabin,” she shouts as she stops to keep eye contact with her friend, Garrus walking up the gangplank a few steps before noticing and stopping to wait for her. “I got some things for you.”

Tali blinks, surprise obvious even with her mask and she shouts back down. “Really?” She doesn’t wait for Jana’s answer as she pushes from the railing of the uppermost deck and leaves Jana’s view.

Chuckling, Jana smiles at Garrus and nods, picking up her pace to keep up with him as they walk the gangplank and into the ship.

“Thank you for all your help,” she tells him, motioning the empty book on the top of her collection of goods that they had found in an antiquary’s shop.

Surprisingly, the merchant knew exactly what Jana wanted when she started to explain and, even though the asari shopkeeper mentioned that most of the time it’s scholars looking for items like the empty book, she was more than happy to sell to Jana. She even brought up the idea of one day publishing the journal once, but Jana waved it off with a light-hearted laugh.

She isn’t quite sure she’s one to share that intimate of a story to not only people but complete strangers. Who knows, she admits, one day she could rewrite the less private thoughts of the book and perhaps sell a telling of the differences of her reality. People she’s met seem interested enough.

We just have to survive this war first.

Tali greets her at their shared cabin. She seems impatient, bouncing on her feet as she watches Jana set her things down on her bed. When Jana finally turns to her with a special bag in her hands, Tali makes a happy, almost whine as she takes it when Jana offers it.

“I can’t believe …. Thank you so much, Jana,” she says as she turns to her own bed to open the drawstring bag.

Jana chuckles and sits on her own bed to watch and rest, her feet not quite used to the way her boots fit and lack the arch support so many shoes in their universe have. “Now, calm down. You don’t even know if you like them.”

Tali doesn’t even respond as she draws a long purple and gold shawl from the bag and twirls with it, letting it flow with the movement’s momentum. “I love it,” she says with a sound of amazement as she then wraps it around her masked head, neck, shoulders, and chest. Looking down at it, Tali lays her hands on the silk fabric. “I wish I could feel it.”

Jana frowns slightly but remembers the talk they had of Tali’s slowly strengthening immune system. “Hey, remember our talk. You’re getting there. Just a little longer and you won’t even need to wear your suit.” She chuckles at Tali’s doubtful gaze and Jana nods to reassure her friend. “Trust me. First, it’s food, then it’s your suit no longer cycling, then you’ll open some seals to let in the outside air, then you can start removing pieces until you’re completely free.” She smiles, happy with the wistful expression on Tali’s face, and stands up. “Then we’ll have to start buying you clothes ,” Jana jokes as she pats Tali’s shoulder in passing and goes to Tali’s bed to dig out more clothes. “I also got you some things that aren’t just shawls.”

Finding what she’s looking for, Jana hums and bites her lip to control her excited grin. She’s sure to hide the sight of it with her body so Tali can’t peek as Jana seeks out the shoulders to the article of clothing. With a breathy ‘ah-ha,’ Jana finds them and takes them in hand before spinning around, making sure to shake the clothing out so it hangs straight, revealing the whole sight of it.

Tali gasps, eyes widening as she raises her hands to her mouth filter. “It’s ….”

Jana finally lets herself grin as she lifts the newly revealed clothing above her head so Tali can get a better look. “It’s a dress … of sorts.”

“Can I?” Tali asks hesitantly and Jana laughs.

“It’s yours!” she says as she steps closer to her friend and hands it over. “Of course you can hold it.”

From the look of it, it seems more like a dress meant for a krogan because it’s twice the size of Tali, even with her broader hips. However, that’s where the sash still in the bag comes into play. Meant to be a looser kind of fitting dress, it’s one long piece of fabric that Tali will have to wrap around her body - crisscrossing around her shoulders - one and a half times. It’s long enough to reach just above the ground with Tali’s height - at least Jana hopes so - and once Tali wraps the sash around her waist to secure it all, it’ll take a more feminine shape.

Much like her armor that employs intricate designs, the dress is very dark - almost black - purple with flowing lines drawing out lilac flowers along its top and sash. Jana watches Tali hold the fabric close, eyes closing in what Jana assumes must Tali trying to imagine herself in it. She doesn’t let her friend revel in imagination for long before seeking out the second half of her surprise, not wanting Tali to think the dress was all Jana had in mind to give to her.

Pointedly clearing her throat, Jana smiles when she swears she can feel Tali’s expectant gaze on her back. Once again making sure to grab the shoulders of the garment, Jana spins to show Tali her last new addition to her wardrobe, a long, hooded cloak in a velvety, amethyst color with a golden, knot shaped clasp.

Tali gasps and tries to take the cloak in her already stuffed hands and lets out an annoyed scoff as she turns to lay her new dress on the bed to free her hands. Once her beloved dress is out of the way, she grasps the cloak and holds it up to get a good look at it in the light.

Made of a dark purple fabric that’s soft to the touch, it has both a hood as well as a secondary cloak that wraps around her shoulders. Much like Miranda’s cloak, the fabric is sewn so that Tali can slip her arms out of slits in the fabric, but still remain completely covered once she drops them back beneath the body of the cloak.

“Oh, Jana,” Tali says wistfully, hugging the cloak before moving to look at the two pieces of clothing side by side on Jana’s bed. “They’re beautiful. It’s all so beautiful, but these? I ….” She turns to Jana, a huge smile on her face judging by her eyes, and flings her arms around her. “Thank you. Thank you,” she whispers, a waver in her voice as she holds Jana with a tighter grip. “No one’s ever given me something like this. I feel …. I feel the same as if I were getting a new suit. It’s the same feeling, but I feel so much more beautiful in this world with these ….”

“I think I understand ….” Jana sure hopes she does, but being able to live outside of a suit, she isn’t so sure. “I might not completely understand what you’re feeling, but I hope that maybe you might feel a bit more at home with these.” She smiles and co*cks a hip. “And, who knows? Soon we might be able to get you clothes that don’t have to go around your suit.”

Tali makes a doubtful noise, but Jana knows her friend and can hear the hope in the sound. There’s also a hint of disagreement, but Jana has faith herself that it’ll only be a short while before Tali can take off at least part of her suit.

“Just give it time,” Jana says with a pat on Tali’s shoulder. “You’ve already come so far.”

“Yeah ….”

“Do you want to stay here or go with me out to watch the ship go?”

Tali shrugs and plays with her new shawl. “You go on ahead. I think I want to take care and fold these nicely before putting them away.”

Jana nods and looks at her bundles of other purchases. “I’ll, uh … wait.” She chuckles and shrugs when her friend glances her way. “I guess I just want to see us off. I’ll have plenty of time at sea to get my stuff straightened up.”

“If you say so,” Tali says with a slightly teasing tone to her voice. “I think that it’s more about you wanting to catch up with the Atheling ,” she adds with what Jana knows is a smirk. “How was your shopping, by the way?”

Jana snorts as she heads to the door. “Laugh it up. I don’t see you very often anymore, so I wonder where you’ve been spending your time.” She smirks. “Or with who , I should say.”

Tali throws her feather pillow at Jana and she laughs, catching it before tossing it back. She grins at Tali a moment longer before opening the door before Tali can decide to assault her with another pillow.

Jana heads for the lower deck where the crew are carrying the last of the supplies across the gangplanks and into the Normandy. She finds Jon finishing up his conversation with Miranda, Jac surprisingly acting as if standing guard over the conversation from any prying ears mere feet away from the two, arms crossed and a menacing look on her face.

Chloe, the healer of the Normandy, seems to have taken the time for herself as Jana sees her talking with a woman that looks a lot like Doctor Karen Chakwas and a male turian Jana can’t quite place. There’s obviously some connection there, though, because he stands suspiciously close to Chloe, his wing slightly wrapped around her as he carries a bundle overflowing with herbs and plants - which has to be Chloe’s things judging by his obvious gold and white Citadel guard attire in comparison to Chloe’s usual dress and short, over the shoulder cloak.

Surrounded by their turian guard, the Vakarians have arrived at the Normandy, obviously here to join Garrus on the ship as they head to their next destination. Jana can see a few more Praetorians have joined the entourage, perhaps coming from Solana’s ship, and the three Vakarians look true to their royal positions, heads held high and clothes immaculate and opulently decorated, from the Primarch’s proud, beautifully dangerous bird, Indignitus , to the new additions of crowns on their heads.

Garrus’ father, Castis, stays true to his dragon-themed nature with a golden crowd shaped like dragon’s teeth around his head and fringe, but instead of looking barbaric like Jana would expect, the piece exudes the natural strength of turian power. Garrus’ mother, Valeria - Jana’s found - wears a much more delicate and intricate design with golden flowers, leaves, and small blue jewels that wrap around her head. Golden chains with more of the blue jewels hang from the sides and back of her crown to drape over her bare shoulders, looking vividly bright against her white gown. Solana, on the other hand, wears a much more simplistic design of golden curves and sharp points that look like minimalistic, downward-facing, feathered wings surrounding a large, dark blue sapphire within a gold crescent.

Jana wonders what Garrus’ crown may look like even though he’s made it seem like he’s reluctant to embrace that side of him. He wore a shawl today that seemed royal in its design and slightly matching Solana's, but she isn’t sure whether or not he’d go so far as to wear an actual, golden, jeweled crown. Still, she wouldn’t mind seeing him in one even if it were just once.

“Jana!” the very turian she’s thinking about shouts from behind her and within the ship. She turns to see Garrus nudging crew aside as he approaches, mandibles flicking goodnaturedly. “I’d hope to catch you before you left again.”

Jana smiles and motions with a thumb towards Jon now speaking with what looks like a dockmaster. “I think we’ll be leaving soon as it is,” she says. “I figured I might as well come down and see if there’s anything to help with seeing us off.”

He hums and nods. “Sounds like a good idea.” He looks around the docks and flares his mandibles, making a nervous buzzing sound. “Oh great, they got crowns,” he says when he finds his family in the crowd and slowly making their way closer. He sounds hesitant and even a bit exasperated as he adds, “I hate crowns.”

Jana chuckles and co*cks a hip, looking at him and tilting her head, trying to imagine what his crown might look like. “I don’t know …. I think you might look quite dashing in a crown.”

His mandibles flutter, obviously in embarrassment and he rubs his neck. “Yeah,” he drawls with a hum to his voice. “I don’t know about that ….”

Once his family reaches the Normandy, Castis gives his son a nod in greeting and his mother raises her hand not in the crook of her mate’s elbow as she smiles warmly. Jana can’t help but mirror Garrus’ mother’s expression as she and Garrus hold their hands up in return, the motherly nature radiating from Valeria comforting even if Jana hasn’t had the time or opportunity to speak with their minds otherwise occupied with how to bring the races together to fight the war.

It reminds her of her own mother she left back home who, in the end, she didn't spend enough time with.

Solana gives Garrus a long look and Jana can almost swear it’s one of knowing something he’s trying to hide, but she doesn’t speak as she flicks a mandible before turning to follow her parents up the gangplank. Lantar and Mierin, now reunited with Garrus, rumble in greeting as they stop before Garrus and Jana.

“How did it go?” Garrus asks, humming in curiosity. “I can guess ….”

“And you’d be right,” the older turian Praetorian says, sighing before he looks out across the water at the various ships coming into and leaving the docks. “As hard as your father tried, the Council just seemed to push back harder.”

“The asari won’t be attending the war summit,” Mierin adds with a frown and disappointed rumble. “And Councilor Valern was livid when your father let it be known that he was reaching out to the krogan Chieftain.”

“Wrex ….” Garrus hums as the word drifts off, glancing down as he thinks it over. “I mean, my father had spoken about it, but I didn’t think he’d actually do it. He hasn’t been the biggest fan of the krogan …. Like most turians, you know?”

“Yeah,” Jana says, nodding. “But this is definitely the time to let go of prejudices.” She turns to the Praetorians and asks, “Will the salarians send anyone even though they’re pissed about the krogan joining the summit?”

Lantar hums, considering as his mandibles pull in tight. “I’m not sure. Councilor Valern is not an easy salarian to read. As are most Councilors.”

“Figures,” Jana says under her breath, but nods in understanding. “Hopefully, they’ll drop the issue and see reason to work together too. Even if the asari don’t want to get into the middle of things.”

“They’ll regret it,” Garrus says with an irritated buzzing to his vocals. “It’ll be too late once they finally see that they can’t win this alone, that they aren’t the mightiest of the races. The Reapers will see to that.”

Jana pats his arm to help calm him and he immediately seems to relax, letting his mandibles rest as he lets out a deep, tired breath. “Anyways,” he finally says and jerks his head towards the ship. “Why don’t you get on board,” he says to his Praetorians. “We’ll be leaving soon.”

“You won’t be needing us?” Mierin asks and he shakes his head, rumbling in reassurance.

“I’m staying here with Jana, seeing if Jon needs anything before we set off. I won’t be heading into the Citadel again.” He huffs and flicks a mandible. “Besides, it’s not like I was completely defenseless in the Markets with Jana around.”

Jana laughs lightly. “Hey, I’m not sure how much help I’d be. You’re more skilled than I am …. Although, I’d probably be good in a fistfight.”

“I’ll take it.” Garrus chuckles as his Praetorians, sure he’ll be alright without their guard, leave him and Jana to head up the gangplank. “Not sure how many people would be starting a fistfight in the middle of Kithoi, though.”

“No one smart,” Jana says with a smirk and he laughs.

When Jon finishes up with the dockmaster and sees Jana and Garrus standing by the Normandy to watch the crew work, he approaches with a broad smile on his face. His officer’s uniform is neat and seems made specifically to fit - which it probably is, now that Jana thinks about it - and the gold buckles glisten in the sun as he walks towards them.

“I heard that you were able to walk the Markets,” he says to her, putting his fists on his hips and stretching on his toes a few times, perhaps to work out some cramp or pain in his feet from standing so long. “What do you think? Did we play it up or is it really as good as we said?”

Jana smiles with a soft huff of laughter. “I liked it,” she says with a nod. “It’s definitely something.”

“How does it compare to your own Citadel’s markets?”

She hums and tilts her head, considering how to explain it. “Well, there definitely aren’t the same number of stores, but it’s much homelier. It feels more organic here than back home. Back home, we used computers to buy everything and didn’t have ‘merchants’ like you do. The only shopkeepers were there to gather things from the warehouse or make sure the kiosk was working.”

“I have absolutely no idea what most of those words meant.” Jon laughs, a deep sound from his belly and it even makes Garrus chuckle.

Snorting, Jana shrugs. “Can’t really help you understand the feeling when you all still sound like you barely believe me and Tali when we talk about our tech.”

“True,” Jon admits with a smile. “So, did you do anything else while we were here?”

Jana bites her lip, not wanting to bring up the bathhouse incident. Still, there is something she did without anyone at her side that she’s quite proud of.

“I helped out someone here on the docks who some asshats were harassing and attacked,” she says, motioning in the vague direction of the path towards the refugee camps. “I really wish I could help out more. He’s in the camps and …. Well, he’s going through hell there.”

“Oh?” Jon’s brows lift inquisitively and he crosses his arms. “Tell me more …. We might be able to help.”

Jana quirks her lip in doubt but explains. “His name is Harak. He’s a former slave from what little he told me, but as a batarian, he isn’t having the best time in a camp almost full of humans.”

Jon hums, cupping his chin as his gaze drifts. “A slave, you say? Did he manage to say what his duties were? Or what the symbols on his head are?”

“He says he knows how to cook,” she says before perking up in surprise. “Wait - How did you know he has scarring on his head?”

“It’s a batarian slaver thing,” Garrus explains, tapping his forehead plate. “They scar certain symbols into slaves’ faces to show what the slave is designated to do.” He growls in anger. “It’s a barbaric, cruel custom. Irrumators ….”

Jon nods but drops it as he glances to Jana expectantly.

“He had a sideways ‘D,’” She says, before catching her mistake and draws the shapes with her finger in the air instead. “A half-circle with a line on the top and a wavy line above it.”

“Hmm …. Never seen that one before ….” Jon cups his chin and raises a brow at Jana. “But you say he knows how to cook?”

“Yeah,” Jana says with a nod, holding a hand towards the path to the camp. “He says he just needs supplies and he’d be able to offer better food to the refugees. Do you think you could get that for them?”

Jon frowns, but it’s Garrus who answers, a sad trill to his vocals. “We can’t …. My father has designated some food to the refugee effort, but there are so many. And the Council can’t - or won’t - do anything to help. They’re getting all the food that can be spared.”

“War ….” Jana nods in understanding. “You need more food for soldiers that are on the front lines than you can spare to refugees …. Maybe there’s something else?”

“Can we meet him?” Jon asks, dropping his hand and smiling. “We might be able to offer him some work on the Normandy … if he’s willing.”

“I don’t want to be the one to ask,” Jana says. “He already treats me like he’s less of a person around me, so maybe you might be luckier in getting his actual opinion and desire.”

“It’s in the way you ask,” Jon explains, leading the way. “I hate the way slaves are forced to understand someone’s words and meaning, but it’s a hard habit to break when they’re freed. It might take time for this batarian - what did you say his name was?”

“Harak.”

“Harak,” Jon repeats as if testing the word. “Yeah, we can certainly try to see if he’ll be willing to travel with us without making him feel commanded.”

They walk a ways before Jon slows at the seeming threshold of the refugee camp, turning to Jana expectantly.

“Oh, uh ….” She scratches her cheek, biting her lip. “I don’t really know where he’s staying …. With the batarian refugees is all I know.”

“Then we ask,” Garrus says, pointing to a female turian in the Citadel guard medium grade armor. He leads the way to her and hums as he asks, “Where do the batarian refugees stay?”

She eyes the two humans by Garrus’ side before dipping her head to her Atheling . “I can take you there, my Atheling ,” she says before looking around, perhaps for any sign that something will pop up for her attention when she’s not around. “Follow me,” she finally says, leading the way with a hand on the pommel of her pyramid-headed mace.

The batarian section of the camp is far, almost at the complete opposite end of the refugee camp and it’s clear that this section is made for the less fortunate of the refugees. Jana doesn’t know how there could possibly be castes even here, but it’s obvious that the less there are of a certain race, the less space carved out for them and the further from the incoming supplies of aid coming to the camp from Zakera.

“Right here, Atheling ,” the guard says with a motion of her hand towards small tents and the smells that permeate the entirety of the refugee camp of unwashed clothing, dirty bodies, and waste are especially strong here as if this is where the other refugees come to dump whatever stinks here or in the water nearby.

Garrus makes a disgusted face but nods to the woman in thanks. “Are you sure he’ll be here?” he asks Jana and she frowns, unsure.

“I don’t know …. She said this was where the batarians are staying though, right?” She looks around for someone who might help, anyone that seems less like a hopeless zombie intent on just surviving and more lively and with some hope left in them - enough so to give them some answers. “I’ll check,” she says as she holds up a hand to the others and heads to a batarian shaving off a long set of dreads with a knife into the fire. “Excuse me.”

“What do you want, human.” A more feminine sounding -but still hoarse - voice says comes the batarian as she cuts her eyes at Jana for a quick glance. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

Jana watches the woman shave her hair that comes down along the sides of the center of her head to the back where it expands out across where there are fewer folds in the skin. This woman has scarring on her forehead too, but Jana can’t quite make out the images from the angle she has with the woman. Whatever they are, they seem very old, maybe even damaged.

Maybe she escaped and destroyed the scars as a means of showing that she’s free?

“I just need to know where Harak is-”

“Why?” The woman finally turns to Jana, half-shaven and with a scowl on her face. “You want to hurt him or something, you galzuugiin khulchgar ?”

“What? No!” Jana holds up her hands, trying to calm the woman with a clearly sharp knife. She hears a slight growl come from Garrus and intake of breath from Jon and she glances their way, shaking her head to the whole situation. “No, please,” she says to the woman. “I don’t want to hurt him. I met him yesterday and I just want to talk. I …. I want to offer him a place on our ship.”

“He’s not your slave-”

“He’d be paid ,” Jana says, narrowing her eyes at the offense. “He’s not a slave to us. He’s just a person to us and he said he can cook. I’m asking if he wants to join us on our ship. Right?” she asks the others, half turning to draw the batarian’s attention to Jon and Garrus.

“Yes, absolutely,” Jon agrees, nodding as he takes a step closer. “I understand he’ll feel obligated if we ask directly. But perhaps you could help us? You are obviously very protective and want what’s best for him. On the Normandy, I promise he’ll be treated like a true member of my crew and … he’ll be in a much better living environment. Will you help?”

The woman thinks it over for a long time, her dark eyes staring the three down before she sheathes her knife in her belt. “Alright. I’ll go ask …. But I won’t let him go if he thinks he’ll be treated like his damn Ondor Mastyer treated him. I killed that novsh and I’ll kill you too if I have too.”

Jon holds his hands up to placate her and she spits into the fire before leaving them, heading to and going inside a tent. Jana lets out a long breath before glancing at the others with a silent ‘yikes’ on her lips.

When the woman returns, Harak is at her side, a concerned and slightly confused look on his face. Jana smiles to him and waves as he approaches and that seems to calm him some as he dips his head before giving a soft if hesitant smile in return.

“Harak,” Jana says. “It’s good to see you.”

“Thank you, Khatagtai.”

“Harak, what did I say about calling them that?” The female batarian glares at Jana. “They aren’t any higher than you now.”

“Then ….” He considers, eyes moving over Jana and her two companions. “Then I’d like to be polite.” He doesn’t cower or make a move when the woman growls and drops back down into a crouch to continue her work on her hair. “It’s … nice to see you too, Jana.”

Jana smiles and waves Jon and Garrus over. “These are my friends, Garrus and Jon. We had a question for you - and you can say ‘no’ and we won’t get angry or upset with you.”

“Yes, Kruga told me,” Harak says with a nod and clasps his hands together, wringing them as he looks around the camp. “I don’t …. I only know how to cook, Zakhirakhs .”

“That’s okay,” Jana says with a hopeful grin. “Because we wanted to ask if you’d like to join us on our ship. We’d pay you for preparing meals.”

“Just being on a ship and away from this place would be … payment.”

Jon shakes his head. “Out of the question. You’ll be treated like anyone else on my crew. You’ll get a bed to sleep on, warm meals, fresh air, and coin. All we’d like in return is if you’ll prepare food for ourselves and the rest of the Normandy crew.”

“You mean … like a chef?” When Jon nods, Harak worries his lip with his tiny teeth. “But … I’ve never been Mastyer in the kitchen.”

“You will be your own Master in the kitchen as well as in life,” Garrus says with a warm rumble. “You are your own Master, now. You are free.”

Harak is quiet for a long time, eyes distant, before he finally takes a deep inhale and nods, exhaling. “I will join you …. I want to join you.”

Jana smiles and looks to Jon, who is also smiling, and she nods towards the tents. “Do you have anything you’d like to bring? You can say your goodbyes and meet us back at the Normandy. We’re setting off soon.”

“Of course, Khatagtai.” He pauses on his turn back to the tents and gives the group a bow of his head and shoulders. “.... Thank you, Zakhirakhs.”

Jon stays to help Harak pack his few belongings while she and Garrus head back to the Normandy. On their way there, they find Nihlus Kryik waiting on the dock just beside the ship’s gangplank in a dark green doublet and a large pack on his back. His bright eye free from the eyepatch catches them in the crowd and he flares his mandibles, flicking them a few times before giving Garrus a meaningful look when they are face to face.

“Nihlus,” Garrus says, avoiding the look and humming in question. “I thought you’d be with Ashlin at the University.”

“I was,” Nihlus responds with a resounding rumble as he lifts his chin and examines the Normandy. “She is stable and healing. I’d like to join the Normandy now that I know she is safe.” He flicks a mandible in a slight smile. “Doctor Chakwas does excellent work. Ash is only where she is in her healing thanks to her.”

“That’s good to hear.” Garrus shifts from foot to foot. “But you really want to join us? Did the Council send you?”

“No,” Nihlus says with a buzz of disagreement. “The Council is wrong in this. I won’t stand by when the Normandy sails straight into the thick of the war. It’s only right after all that’s happened that I be there right beside you and Jon.”

Garrus flares his mandibles, rumbling in what sounds like surprised excitement. “I know he’d like to have extra swords he can trust, but I know I will enjoy your company. It’ll be good to have you aboard.” He glances at Jana and smiles again. “Trust me. Nihlus is a good turian.” He lowers his voice a little. “He’s just a bit stiff,” he whispers just loud enough for the other turian to hear.

Nihlus flicks his mandible and hums. “Warmer than some other turians that’ll be aboard. Probably more than many of them.”

Garrus huffs a laugh. “Well, you might be right. My father is on board, after all. Come on,” he says, “let’s get you a bed.”

Chapter 25: Change

Chapter Text

Jana takes a walk around the ship in the morning while the majority of the crew is having their breakfast. She manages to watch the sun rise on the horizon, painting the sky in rich golds and fiery crimsons. It’s a beautiful sight and the air, though still a bit crisp, warms gradually with the sun’s climb into the crystal clear sky.

Once she begins to see more and more of the crew returning to their posts on the uppermost deck, Jana decides it’s time for her own breakfast. If she remembers correctly, most of the people she fights beside tend to take their breakfasts after the crowd, but there are some she doesn’t expect to see this late in the morning, Liara and Javik being two of them as they usually bicker mostly of the night or early hours until their stomachs demand attention at the same time as the hard-working crew’s.

It’s a wonder, Jana always things, of how exhausting talking - or rather arguing with - Javik can be, but she’s begun to notice how the prothean seems to accept, if not prefer, Jon and Liara’s company over others. Perhaps because of their more frequent encounters or maybe it has something to do with Javik’s slow acclimation to the Normandy’s crew.

This morning, however, Liara has joined the late breakfast group and sits relatively close to Jon, a laid-out scroll in the space directly beside her meal that she seems to be reading from. She’s occasionally talking, joining in the conversation between Tali, Jameson, and Jon, but otherwise seems quite entranced by her reading.

A few turians have stayed behind or otherwise come to eat late this morning and they’re grouped together somewhat close to, but not directly in the space of where Nihlus, Solana, and Garrus seem to be chatting as they eat. Solana’s body language makes Jana thinks she’s done with her meal and ready to get up and leave, but she’s mid-conversation at the moment and instead gestures over her empty plate in whatever conversation they must be deep into.

Jana walks to the galley part of the deck and smiles when she finds Harak hard at work, but seemingly at home. He actually gives a quirk of his lips as if he’s trying to smile back when she comes closer and he stops his chopping of carrots to greet her. He stops Jana from picking out some little, crispy battered fish for her breakfast with a hand he holds out over the food.

“Forgive me, Khatagtai , but there is something specifically for you.” He moves to the counter where there’s a slight abundance of breads of all shapes, sizes, colors, and textures.

Hidden behind the baked breads, Harak pulls out what looks like a berry tart. She opens her mouth slightly in surprise and watches as he brings it over, setting the pastry that’s just slightly larger than her palm on a plate before her. Instead of cutting it like she’d have expected so that others could share, he simply sets one of their iron forks on the plate and looks at her expectantly.

“You …. You made this for me?” She asks as she picks up the plate, trying hard not to shove her nose deep into the pastry to get more of the recently baked sweetness contrasted by the buttery smelling crust.

“Well …,” Harak starts, wringing his flour-covered hands for a moment. “Someone brought me the fruit and asked me to make it for you … but they wanted to be kept a secret.”

“Oh?” Jana raises a brow, wondering who could’ve thought of giving her a sweet treat. “And you wouldn’t give me any clues,” she tests, grinning.

Harak dips his head. “I am truly sorry, but no. I will not damage their trust.”

Humming, Jana mentally goes through a list of likely suspects, narrowing it down to only a few people who’d consider it. Only, there’s even fewer people who know she’s in love with sweets.

Oh, God …. It was him …. He’s the only one who knows and would have reason to keep it a secret. Tali would just give it to me outright, but Garrus? Why would he have to hide?

“Thank you, Harak,” Jana finally says with a soft smile. “I won’t pester you about it. It’s good that you’re keeping it a secret for them. Trust is a big thing for everyone aboard the Normandy.”

Harak bows his head before looking over her face and he eventually gives her a slight quirk of his lips in an attempt to smile. She knows it’s hard for him to express emotions from what little interaction she’s had over the past few days with him aboard. Obviously, the damn slavers beat any kind of happiness out of poor Harak judging by the way he struggles with … everything . Hopefully, time will heal the wounds enough that he can feel pride in his work and perhaps show signs of his thoughts of ship life and his work as the Normandy’s chef.

Jana gives Harak a nod before she leaves him to his work, heading for one of the long tables and its bench seating. Seeing Jon give a quick wave and bobbing her head in return, she passes him and his small gathering of the crew and heads for Nihlus and Garrus, looking forward to their company. Maybe, she can learn more about Nihlus and how he managed to survive Saren’s betrayal should the past be similar to her own.

What happened on Eden Prime so long ago that he managed to survive a blow to the head?

Garrus sees her first and his mandibles flutter rapidly and that seems to attract Nihlus’ attention, so the taller turian turns to follow Garrus’ eyes. When Nihlus sees Jana, he motions his head towards the seat beside him - directly across from Garrus - and gives a soft flare of one of his mandibles.

As she settles onto the bench, Nihlus hums curiously at the sight of her fruit tart. “Something special from the chef?” he asks with a flared mandible as his one eye glances at Garrus for a split second. “Or did you buy some shakta for yourself at the Citadel? I had no idea you preferred turian fruits, Jana.”

Jana huffs, a weak laugh as she blushes slightly at the attention of that single-eyed bright and seemingly all-knowing gaze. “Yeah …. Harak says somebody wanted it made for me.”

“Wonder who that could’ve been ….”

She simply grunts in agreement, focusing on her plate to hide her obviously flushed cheeks and neck. Picking up her fork, she breaks off a generous piece of the tart, being sure to get filling and crust for one bite. She spears the piece with her fork and brings it to her nose, unable to stop herself from first taking in its pleasant scent. She hums at the smell of berries somewhat similar to a mix of cherries and blueberries, their scent much stronger cooked than raw and right off their respective bushes.

It makes her wonder just what this ‘shakta’ looks like and if its raw juices have the same strength of smell as the berries it reminds her of.

Finally taking a bite, Jana’s eyes widen at the amazing taste that blossoms across her tongue. The crust is perfectly flaky and buttery and not overpowered by the taste of the filling, the two in perfect balance. True to its smell, the delicious filling tastes like a combination of cherries and blueberries, sweet with a slight tartness that is like a secondary delight to the richness of natural sugars.

“Oh, wow,” she says once she swallows down her bite, nodding as Nihlus gives her a smirk and Garrus looks on as if entranced. “This is incredible. Like two berries in one. Are you sure it’s only one fruit?”

“Indeed,” Nihlus says as he points a talon to where the tart can be fully examined at the place where she had split it to break off a piece.

The filling within has a slight sheen to it, a very minute amount of shimmer that’s so otherworldly that convinces her that Nihlus can’t be wrong about it being a fruit she hasn’t seen before. Baking must have tamed the silvery shimmer on the top of the tart, leaving her to guess what the slightly bluish mixture of filling might be, but now she’s sure it isn’t an ‘Earthen’ fruit, but rather something more ‘alien’ in the sense of it’s probably not from Terra.

Garrus picks at his food with the long, spear-like utensil he’s using to eat the rest of whatever slab of meat he’s been eating. “Do you, uh … like it?”

“Absolutely,” Jana says with a grin and nod, sure now who secretly gifted her the tart just by the way Garrus is fidgeting and Nihlus’ complete - and obvious- amusem*nt in the look he’s giving the Atheling .

“Well, good. That’s good.” Garrus clears his throat and feigns disinterest as he rumbles thoughtfully. “That fruit is really special in turian culture - I mean, anyone can buy it, though.”

“Of course,” Nihlus adds, flaring a mandible in a smirk. “But most races don’t really think about it. It’s just a fruit to them.”

“Well, I think I’ve found a new favorite. So it’s for special occasions, you say?” When Garrus nods hesitantly, she smiles and picks up another piece with her fork. “Do you want some? I don’t know if I can eat it all.”

“Oh, uh ….” He glances at Nihlus, but Nihlus doesn’t react, turning his attention instead to cleaning up the rest of his plate. “Sure ….”

Using her fork to divide what remains of the tart in half, she then holds out her plate, using her fork again to slide the half onto his outheld plate. He flutters his mandibles, as if unsure what to do now as his gaze moves from the tart now before him as well as Jana across the table.

Jana smiles and picks up a piece of her half and brings it to her mouth, being sure to watch for his reaction as she takes the bite before closing her eyes, letting the taste dance on her tongue. She hums and opens her eyes to see him smiling softly and nods, motioning his serving with her fork.

Swallowing, she licks her lips and chuckles. “You should try it,” she tells Garrus, fully aware that he could probably care less about his half and instead has his full attention on her. “Go on, before it gets too much cooler. I bet it’s amazing when it’s right out of the oven.”

“Uh, yeah ….” Garrus finally drops his gaze to his plate and he picks at some of it with his fork, mandibles never slowing as they flick and twitch. “I, uh …. I always like eating it back home,” he says before breaking off a piece and spearing it with his own utensil. “It’s, uh, something pretty special to turians.”

“In that case,” Jana starts, blushing slightly when he puts the piece of tart in his mouth and his mandibles - finally - still as he rumbles in satisfaction of the taste. “I’m happy to share it.”

Garrus tips his head back, perhaps to avoid her gaze a moment as his rumbles become slightly more nervous. “I, uh …. Thank you. I never had anyone ... share with me.”

“Interesting,” Nihlus says in passing and Jana notices how Nihlus finds something much more interesting than the conversation all of a sudden when Garrus gives him a sideways glance.

“Is that something special?” Jana asks, eyebrows raising in curiosity and Nihlus hums, interrupting anything Garrus may say.

“Oh, no. I was just thinking to myself.” Nihlus flares his mandibles in a reassuring smile as he sets his utensil down on his empty plate. “Don’t mind me.”

“Did you want some?” She tips her plate slightly with her finger beneath the edge but he shakes his head, holding up a hand.

“No, thank you, Jana.” He flares a mandible in amusem*nt at something she’s unaware of and adds, “I have a more savory palate, it seems. I’ve never been much for copious amounts of sweets.”

Jana chuckles. “You’re missing out.” She eats another piece as she watches the turian with the massive scar across his face and patched eye. “Nihlus?”

“Yes?” He hums questioningly, flaring a mandible as he quirks a brow plate.

“Can I ask you something that might be a bit intrusive? If you don’t want to answer, feel free to tell me it’s none of my business.” She breathes out and bites her lip for a second. “I just really want to know what went differently ….”

“I take it the Nihlus in your realm is dead?” He asks bluntly as if it were an entirely different person they’re talking about.

Perhaps, to him, it might as well be. Just as Jon is entirely different - yet obviously this world’s version of Jana - he and Jana are still two separate people with completely different personalities and lives. Sure, there are similarities, but he’s not a carbon copy of her nor she one of him. If she hears the story of what happened to him when the Collectors attacked his first Normandy, she would feel empathetic to him, understand the fear and the unknown, but his experience wouldn’t be hers.

She isn’t Jon, Jon isn’t her, and the Nihlus here isn’t the Nihlus who died in her reality.

“Yeah,” she says with a slight nod. “Saren murdered him. I didn’t personally see it, but he betrayed Nihlus, shot him when his back was turned.” She frowns and picks at the last piece of her tart. “I like to hope it was instantaneous for him, but don’t really know. Did Saren do something to you on Eden Prime? It’d probably be on the Normandy’s first voyage to get something that they found that was prothean?”

Nihlus hums as he rests his left forearm on the table and leans towards his hand, resting his temple on the knuckle of his first finger and thumb. It’s in this position that Jana can see the markings of an image on his inner forearm just peeking out from his halfway rolled-up sleeve, but she doesn’t draw attention to it.

“Yes, that’s very similar to what happened to me,” he says, his single eye scrutinizing her. “Saren was a powerful necromancer - immorally and forbiddenly . His magic originally teetered on the fine line of what was allowed and what wasn’t, but by the time I joined Jon to retrieve the prothean artifact on Eden Prime, he was corrupted and deep into the dark arts.” He takes a deep breath, leaning forward on his bench and laying both arms on the table, palms down. “He always used questionable techniques, but it wasn’t until I was the victim of an attack that I realized how far he could go. He attacked me with poison-laced talons and magic that’d petrify me as soon as he drew blood.” Nihlus hums as Garrus stares at his empty plate, mandibles twitching in anger.

“The damnare ignavus ,” Garrus growls, shaking his head but Nihlus lays a hand on his shoulder to calm the fire in Garrus’ vocals.

“What’s done is done,” he tells Garrus before looking at Jana. “Something wasn’t right when I found him there at Eden Prime. I trusted him as my mentor, but I didn’t trust him being there .” Nihlus hums thoughtfully and clasps his hands on the table. “I turned my back to him for just a moment, but something - I don’t know what - told me to turn around , that I was in danger.”

Taking a deep breath, Nihlus looks aside, as if searching the deck for something as he slowly moves his gaze over who remains in the mess. “He was going for my neck, but when I moved, I managed to turn just enough that he missed. I didn’t get out completely unscathed, however,” he says, gaze finally returning to her just as he motions the patch over his eye and the massive, three-lined scar. “He managed to slash me across the face with just the tips of his talons, but it was enough.”

Humming, he slips the tip of a talon beneath the patch and lifts it to reveal a truly petrified eye, gray like stone with a deep crack running through it that reveals a green crystalline structure within, as if it were some horrific geode. Jana’s mouth opens in shock and disbelief but she shakes her head to get control of herself.

“Oh, God, that’s …." Horrific. " …. I’m so sorry, Nihlus ….”

Nihlus replaces the patch and rumbles, almost as if he’s soothing her . “Don’t fret, Jana. Jon and Doctor Karin Chakwas saved my life. And if not for him and his late friend Kaidan, I’d have been dead before getting back to the Normandy. They slowed the petrification process and stemmed the bleeding enough to get me to safety.” He hums and crosses his arms, flicking his mandible in agitation. “Although, I delayed them. They were unable to catch up with Saren in the end.”

“They saved your life ,” Garrus says with a sharp twitch of his mandibles. “That has to mean something.”

Nihlus hums, nodding softly. “Yes, I can’t rightly look at it as a failure when we managed to catch Saren in the end …. And learn the truth too.” He looks at Jana and flares a mandible in a very soft smile. “I guess I have to look at it in the aspect that, if not for losing Saren in the beginning, we’d never have gotten far enough to learn about the bigger picture. Aakkeinlein would still be just a ship to the realm and she’d just find another victim to corrupt.”

“I’m sorry,” Jana says, frowning at the long, unknown word. “What did you say?”

Nihlus rumbles in confusion, but Garrus seems to understand as he thrums and says, “Aakkeinlein?” When Jana nods, he nods back, realization settling in. “Maybe you know the name ‘Sovereign?’”

“Yeah, that’s familiar …. Is that what Sovereign’s name was here?”

“That was her name in their own language,” Garrus explains, humming a moment as if thinking. “I think it meant ‘The Guide to War’ …. Roughly.”

“And Harbinger? Does it have a name like that?” Jana worries her lip at the thought of the head Reaper leading the war in her reality.

And winning …. I wonder if they’ve already won ….

…. I’m so sorry ….

“Jana?” Garrus asks, concern written all over his face and in his rumbling subvocals. “Are you okay?”

Jana lets out a long, tired breath as she nods. “I just …. Remembering home, you know? I left it in shambles and … I feel like I was - and still am - failing them.” She sighs again and runs her hand over her head and grips her braided hair, giving it a firm squeeze to hide the clenching of her fists, the other hand slipping beneath the table and onto her lap. “I left a universe that needed my help …. I left them to die, it feels like.”

“You didn’t do it on purpose,” Nihlus says with a tile of his head, his mandible shifting slightly lower in an expression of understanding and empathy. “You had no choice in coming here. You may never find a way back - and it looks like there may not be a way back - but you’re here now. You’re welcome here, valued here.”

“ Needed here,” Garrus adds with a soft, sad smile. “You and Tali are one of us now. And this is your home, where people care about you … and wouldn’t want you to leave.” He clears his throat and looks at his hands on the table which aren’t wearing gloves and, thus, revealing the intricate tattooing that continues all the way down to his hands and stopping right at the first knuckle of his fingers. “I’m sorry about your home. I really am …. But maybe this could be your new home? Maybe one day you can let go of the guilt and forgive yourself. Then maybe you might feel more welcome here.”

Jana smiles weakly and nods. “Maybe one day. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for the way everyone’s been treating us, but I just wish I had done more back home. I could’ve done something to make it possible for them to win without me.” She sighs and shrugs, looking at her plate.

That’s when the ship shutters.

No …. It’s more like it shivers ….

Everyone looks around in confusion as the ship’s hull walls begin to come to life, the runes carved into the wood glimmering with magic. Jana starts to feel that pull within, the precursor to when the Normandy ‘rides a Rift,’ but Jon seems just as surprised by the sudden shift as everyone else, meaning he certainly didn’t give the okay to jump.

“What’s happening?” she asks as Jon rushes by, heading for the stairs to the upper decks. She, along with the others of what she still catches herself calling ‘the ground team,’ follow closely behind him in case of danger. “Are we jumping?”

“I didn’t give that order,” Jon says back to them as he emerges on the upper deck and looks around as he hurries to the helm. “Joker! What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Joker says, seeming just as confused as everyone else as he grips the giant wheel of the ship in one hand and his tri-fold hand on his head with the other. He jerks his head towards EDI’s foundation where, while it continues to cycle the strange liquid, no longer glows the colors that come when she interacts with anyone. “EDI isn’t responding either. I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”

Jana scans the deck, her vision beginning to blur around the edges. It’s as if they’re breaking through a Rift, but much slower, the pieces of the world peeling back in sections instead of one giant tear.

Suddenly, Samatha runs from the front cabin with her arms waving and a panicked expression on her face.

“The construct!” she shouts above the racket of the crew frantically trying to regain control of the Normandy. “The Cerberus construct is awakening!”

“Oh sh*t,” Jana says, her words mixing into the numerous other voices that must be cursing in some language or another but she can’t hear anything exact over the jumbled sounds. She barely hears her own words over the others but she knows they share her feelings as they stop at the deck below the helm and spread out.

“EDI!” Jon rushes to the fountain while the others take up position down the stairs and on the main deck, getting ready to fight the rock creature with whatever they have once it comes storming out of the front cabin - Nihlus and Garrus seemingly the only ones armed as they each draw a dagger from their person. “EDI, status report!”

Garrus growls beside Jana, wings flexing in preparation, but when the door of the navigation cabin - which doubles as Liara’s cabin - opens, it’s slow and hesitant. Jameson slaps his fist in his palm with a growl of his own and Jana can see some turians beginning to climb the stairs to this deck to see what’s the matter, weapons on their hips or backs.

“EDI?” Jon says, walking to the banister of the helm deck and leaning closer to get a better look of what’s coming out of Liara’s cabin.

“Yes, Jon?” EDI’s voice says from the shadows of the cabin. “I am here.”

“In a different vessel?”

“Not quite,” she says as she slowly steps out into the light, the thing's body now lit with the same colors that shift and glow from within EDI’s original form. “I am still in my fount, but ….” She tilts her head and looks the group over, expression flat and emotionless. “But I am also in this body.”

“Is that what made the ship shift?” Jameson asks, looking around at the now settled sea and clear sight of the horizon.

“Yes.”

“EDI,” Jon says, taking a deep breath as he rubs the top of his head and neck. “You really had us worried.”

“I admit that this transition was not as fluid as I would have liked, but I assure you that the Normandy was not in danger.” EDI steps closer to everyone and though Nihlus and Garrus are still tense, it seems like curiosity has won over Tali, Liara, and Jameson as they relax.

“You can’t just do that without passing it by me,” Jon says with a scowl for what must be the first time Jana’s ever seen him truly agitated outside of battle. “EDI, you put us at risk because we nearly jumped a Rift. You know that the Reapers can sense that.” He shakes his head, letting out a long breath as he drops his head, eyes closed. “You truly are a great member of our team, but next time you want to do something that might be even a little dangerous of difficult, ask. I’m the Captain of this ship,” he says as he raises his gaze to EDI’s new form. “I will not put my crew in danger or stand aside while someone puts us at risk. I’d like it very much if you apologized to the crew here. It’s enough even if everyone below won’t hear it.”

EDI clasps her hands behind her back. “I assure you that I will no longer attempt any potentially dangerous actions without first gaining your approval. I had not foreseen the difficulty obtaining this form nor how it would affect the ship and crew.” She dips her head and is quiet for a long, tense moment. “I am … sorry.”

Murmurs from everyone buzz in Jana’s ears, but she doesn’t pay them any attention as she watches EDI’s new form walk past the easily parting crew towards the stairs leading up to the helm deck. She isn’t sure of much concerning this EDI, but her own was very well integrated into her crew, becoming more than a simple AI to everyone, Jana included, but she doesn’t have the experience with this world’s EDI, or Entity of Divination and Intelligence.

She doesn’t know whether or not this is a good idea.

“She could’ve said something,” Garrus scoffs, sheathing his dagger - the design of which looks like a blade coming out of a snake’s open mouth. “I trust EDI, but that was just stupid. She could’ve dumped a Reaper right on top of us.”

“Indeed,” Nihlus agrees as he sheathes his black dagger. “But what’s done is done. And perhaps this may aid us in battle. Think of it, a construct fighting alongside us.”

“We’ll have to see what comes of this,” Jana agrees and glances at Liara climbing the stairs to the helm with a slight urgency to her step. “I wonder if Liara had some inkling that it was possible for EDI to do that.”

Garrus hums, considering as he scratches a mandible. “It’s a possibility, but she also could’ve been in the dark just as much as we were. No one really knows everything EDI’s capable off, what knowledge she can access.”

Chapter 26: But The Story Is This

Chapter Text

Jana watches the ships at different points on the horizon slowly grow as they and the Normandy close in on one another for the war summit that’ll take place at sea. She can’t tell which ships belong to the salarian people and which to the krogan, but their courses will bring them to the Normandy in time and she’ll be able to see then, the Normandy being the neutral meeting grounds that both species insisted on.

When the ships are close enough, Jana can see names of the ships - in scripts she can’t understand - and their crews from her place on the Normandy’s top deck. Both species seem to have brought two decently sized ships with them, but the pairs vary drastically. Where the krogan - because it has to be by the looks - seem to have sailed here in two of their largest, most dramatically intimidating looking ships, the salarians’ are much sleeker, demanding respect with their size but also intrigue with what power their multitude of sails may yield. Jana has a guess that, once they get air in their sails, what the salarians lack in bulk and menace, they make up for in speed.

Surprisingly, the krogan ships seem lacking in cannons, as Jana notices as they steer their ships to the opposite side of the Normandy than that taken by the anchoring salarians.

“Jana,” Jon calls as he climbs down from the helm, wearing his officer’s attire so that he can make the best, most professional impression on the races’ leaders.

She smiles and tilts her head towards the krogan ships. “Never seen ships without cannons before.”

He blinks, as if surprised by the statement, before huffing a laugh and composing himself. “Yeah. As stipulation for the krogan having sea-worthy ships, they must be unarmed and only add up to a small number in total.” Humming, he takes a moment before shaking his head slightly. “I’m not sure I remember the number, but that’s not important right now.” Motioning the ships with his hand, he then clasps both behind his back and puts on a serious expression. “I want you with us in my cabin during the summit.”

“What? Really?” She stands up from the railing and lifts a brow. “Excuse me for asking, but why? I don’t hold any importance here ….”

“Actually, you do,” he says, waving a hand for her to follow and walk with him as he heads across the deck. “You don’t need to talk during the summit, but them knowing that there’s a person from a realm fighting a similar fight to our own should lend sincerity to our situation.”

“Uh, Jon.” Jana frowns and bites her lip, thinking of the atrocities she committed to the people she once called ‘friends.’ “I really don’t think I can give the best impression … after doing the things I did.”

Jon turns to her and lands both hands on her shoulders. “Please, Jana. I respect your opinion and your experiences, good or bad. Whatever you did in your realm doesn’t matter now. We’ve already seen things change and I want you there not just because you come from somewhere else, but because you’re a commanding officer in your realm. You know more than anyone else in my human crew and … to put it bluntly, I need more than myself vying for human aid while everyone else is bickering over the krogan being here.”

“You think Wrex will be a problem?”

“No, I trust Wrex. And I trust Primarch Castis because I trust Garrus.” He breathes heavily and drops his arms. “It’s the Dalatrass I don’t trust. Old grudges come up when the stakes are high and here we are telling people to think about the greater good of all of Alysim instead of their own people’s nation. Telling someone to look past age-old grudges and work together is going to take all the energy we have. Garrus and his father will do their best, but you have to know that the Primarch isn’t without his own past prejudices. He’s only putting them aside because Garrus vouches for Wrex.”

Jana chews on her lip before nodding. “Alright …. I’ll back you up in there. But don’t ask me what happened in my reality because … because it wasn’t something I’m proud of. In fact, I hate myself for what I did.”

“Don’t worry,” Jon assures her with a nod. “As far as this summit is concerned, you’re just another Captain of the King’s Fleet who just so happens to have joined me from the Citadel to attend this gathering.”

“Got it,” she agrees, giving a thumbs up before heading down the stairs to the Crew Deck. She sees Tali at the tables with Liara, the two playing some kind of game with tiles and a board with painted lines and symbols. “I’m going to join Jon and the others during the summit. He asked ….”

“Really?” Tali asks, glancing at Liara before returning her gaze to Jana. “You aren’t going to …. You know ….”

Understanding completely what Tali means, Jana shakes her head as she walks backwards towards the cabin so she can keep eye contact with her friend during such a serious conversation. “I’m strictly silent support. As far as everyone’s concerned, I’m a visiting, aiding Captain like Jon. I’m mostly going to be there to back him up when a fight breaks out.”

“You’re so sure …” says Liara with a raised brow and Jana gives her a doubtful look.

“When wouldn’t a fight break out between a krogan and a salarian in this kind of situation?” She gets a hum in agreement as a response just as she enters her cabin but stops in her tracks at the sight of something somewhat familiar sitting on her bed.

A thin, long box made of cherry red wood polished to a rich sheen sits on the center of her bed, amongst the neatly made furs. She knows it’s the same small box Garrus had obtained at the Kithoi Markets when there was that moment when they split up so she could have some privacy purchasing clothes. While the thought of a gift should arouse her spirits, Jana only feels a dread settling in her stomach at the thought of even more evidence that she’s become the recipient of Garrus’ secretive gift giving.

She takes a deep, calming breath and approaches the box, unsure what it may be. There’s a beautiful, curling script on its lid that she hasn’t seen before in all her travels. Guessing by what languages she’s already seen, she can eliminate asari, human, salarian, krogan, and turian. Something also tells her that she can leave out hanar as an opinion as she remembers her conversation with Thane so long ago where he spoke about hanar language encompassing projected colors and that speech as she and the rest of the universe understood it as was merely the result of technology translating said shifts in their bodies’ light in color.

Running the tips of her fingers over the engraving, she finds the script elegant and intriguing. She’ll have to ask someone else on the Normandy what race’s language it is - and what it means - to sate her curiosity of what’s inside.

Except, she can also just open the lid … but that scares her more than she can imagine. Laying her hand on her shirt where her ring lies against her chest, she worries over just how intimate and personal this box might be. Or, more importantly, the importance of whatever is inside it.

With her curiosity’s stubborn power over her fears, she reaches down and turns what has to be a key already inserted into the slot in the front. She hears a soft click and, true to her suspicions, a key slips out of the now open lock and she holds it in her hand before using her other to carefully lift the lid.

Jana is quiet for a long time as she stares at the box’s contents, a long feather that looks like it belongs to a peaco*ck, but of a different coloring than those from her Earth. Shorter than the familiar kind of peaco*cks’ tail feathers, this one is either trimmed down or naturally grows to a length of just over a foot.

It still has the trademark eye in the colors of its wider, rounded end, but the colors are completely alien to her. Instead of a bright blue center, the color is a shifting color of teal and purple, surrounded by a bright gold that fades to scarlet around the edges and at the uppermost edge of the eye itself. The fine threads of feathers that encircle the eye and run along the sides are an off blue that has a kind silver sheen in the light.

At first, Jana has no idea why Garrus would give her a peaco*ck’s - which is her best bet of the animal it belongs to - feather. With a closer look at the contents of the box, she finds a thin inkwell embedded in the velvety lining of the box, just barely visible against the beautiful sight of what she now recognizes must be a new quill.

She sets the key down and, ever so gently, picks up the feather at its thin base where the tiny feathers have been trimmed to make it easier to grip. Examination of the end reveals a sharp point cut into the base of the quill, so sharp she could almost imagine herself pricking her finger on it. She knows it’s not true and that this quill has been specially made to give the crispest writing without running the risk of piercing any kind of thickness of paper its user has chosen.

Looking at the peaco*ck’s tail quill, her goose feather one seems so primitive and as if she were writing with a child’s quill. She might very well have been, but she’d have never known if not for seeing the quality of this one.

Jana sighs and lays the quill back into its box, gently so as not to disturb it’s delicate fibers. Pushing the box aside, she tucks it under her pillow for now - out of sight, out of mind - and tells herself she’s going to need to address Garrus’ barely concealed affection sometime soon. While flattered, there’s a deep seeded guilt that floods her veins with ice every time she lets herself enjoy whatever gift he may secretly leave or set up for her to have.

If only things were different for us ….

Not sure what would be fitting for a ‘Captain,’ Jana dresses in a long, charcoal gray jacket over an ivory shirt with a small, ruffled collar. She then slips on some brown pants with small, brass studs that run along her outer thighs. Last is a pair of black boots that promise a better and more comfortable fit than her other boots, but only time will tell.

Finishing the look by pulling her hair into a messy braid that she then wraps around in a bun, Jana gives herself a once over before heading out the door and across the deck. Tali gives her a thumbs up and smile as Jana passes, so she feels like maybe she got the look down and hopes that the other species won’t be able to tell that she isn’t what she says she is. Talks will be tense enough without the argument of who the hell she is and what makes her so important that she should have any say in what’s going to happen once she gets to Jon’s Captain’s Cabin.

Jon, Garrus, and Garrus’ father, the Primarch, are waiting for her outside the Captain’s Cabin and, when she approaches, Jon waves over someone from the helm. He halts her for a moment as they wait for the newcomers, a pair of very familiar krogan that she’s both happy and a bit regretful to see.

Because these are the very two krogan she once called ‘friends,’ only to see them die - one by her own hand and the other because of her bad call.

“Wrex and Grunt,” Jon greets, holding out a hand to them before making an introductory gesture towards Jana. “This is Jana. She’ll be joining us during the summit.”

Wrex scrutinizes her and it gives her a chance to look him over, seeing him dressed very sparsely in a kilt type outfit covered in pieces of thick leather armor, although it doesn’t make a full set. Draped over his hump and shoulder is a hide of some kind, grayish brown with slightly darker, organic looking patches. Something in the way he’s moving - as if uncomfortable - makes her feel like it’s not his normal garb and that he’s ‘dressed up’ for the summit so as not to intimidate the salarian leader.

At least, that’s what she thinks judging by the look of Grunt’s very dangerous looking armor covered almost entirely with bones attached - deliberately - over certain sections of leather armor. He at least seems to have left behind his weapon but Jana knows that doesn’t count for much with krogan who can easily become a weapon in themselves, no swords, battleaxes, shields, or whatever else they can wield necessary.

“You know anything about the Reapers?” Wrex says gruffly and Jon raises a hand, shaking his head softly.

“I can explain after …. Just know that she knows a lot more than you might think.” He lowers his voice and steps closer to the krogan. “She’s from another realm ….”

“Sounds like a load-”

“Trust me.” Jon motions to Garrus and his father. “The Primarch is aware of what’s going on, but with how tense the situation with the Dalatrass will already be, we don’t want to bring in Jana’s situation. We need to stay focused.”

“We’ll see,” Wrex says cryptically before jerking his chin to the door. “We ready to get this started or do we have more gossiping to do?”

“Good to know you haven’t changed.” Garrus chuckles, though he sounds tense, and Jana lets herself look -truly look - at him for the first time and she notices something very surprising.

He’s wearing a crown ….

Unlike his families’ crowns, Garrus’ is pure black with very little embellishments. It’s much harsher than his father’s and similar to Solana’s in that it’s made with sharp points. However, where hers is designed with curves and negative space in mind, his looks like overlapping blades, shortening the further along his fringe the crown goes. The only gemstones it has are barely noticeable and run along the base of it, only noticeable because they occasionally glisten in the sunlight as he moves.

He looks … good. Even if he looks as uncomfortable with it on as he does whenever his royalty is ever brought up.

“Ready?” he says to her, and she almost doesn’t catch it in time before they enter the Cabin. As it is, she has just enough time to nod and hope he didn’t notice her staring at his cool-looking crown before she takes his offer to go ahead of him in the line of people entering the Cabin.

“So it’s true,” the salarian Dalatrass says and Jana recognizes that sneer from her own universe’s female salarian ruler. “You did include the krogan in this summit.” She scoffs and looks away from them, chin raising. “I never took you for a fool, Primarch.”

“Watch your tone, Dalatrass,” Garrus warns with a low growl but his father holds up a hand to calm him.

“And you should know I never jest over jest when matters concern my people,” the Primarch says with a low, authoritative rumble. “Only now, we’re talking of all of Alysim.”

The Dalatrass has been accompanied by a group of three salarian guards, all armed with what looks like long spears, only instead of a small spearhead, there’s a long blade that takes up about one third of its length. They all wear sleeker armor than the humans and turians Jana’s used to seeing, but they look just as deadly as any other soldier she may meet on the battlefield.

The Dalatrass herself is dressed in a long gown beneath an even longer robe that pools on the wooden floor of Jon’s cabin. The outfit is made of multilayered, multicolored fabrics rich with vivid colors and have long, draping sleeves that the Dalatrass tucks her elegantly jeweled hands into. On her head is a crown that looks like a starburst between her crests with pieces that wrap around to the outside of them, draping her shoulders in delicate, small chains covered in bright, cascading gemstones.

“Involving the krogan is foolish, then. Perhaps Templar Shepard is to blame for such an idea?”

“I’m not,” Jon says with a shake of his head and leans his hands onto the large table in the center of the room where a large map of what must be all of Alysim drawn onto it lies. “This was entirely the Primarch’s idea, but I fully support it. Having the krogans’ help can allow Palaven to regroup, retreat, and save as many ships, warriors, and civilians they can before we carry out the plan to attack the Reapers directly.”

“And what may this plan be?” The Dalatrass crosses her arms within her oversized sleeves. “Councilor Valern spoke of no such plan.” She huffs and tosses a hand. “Or do you mean that hairbrained idea for The Crucible?” Scoffing, she glances away from them. “I will not put my hopes on something you don’t even have the slightest idea will work.”

“It doesn’t matter what this ‘Crucible’ will or won’t do,” Wrex says with a low, annoyed tone to his voice. “You need our help now just like you did with the rachni.” He glares between the Dalatrass and Primarch. “Sounds like maybe your Genophage was a bad idea, afterall,” he remarks with sharp, biting sarcasm dripping in anger.

The Dalatrass scoffs even louder, taking on an expression of offence. “I knew it. Discuss a mutual alliance to fight together and all the krogan do is bring up the Genophage as if they did nothing wrong.”

“We didn’t deserve to be cursed!” Wrex slams his fist on the table, growling. “Ever stillborn is on your hands, croaker.”

“Wrex,” Jon nearly shouts, stepping in between the krogan and the table and holding a halting hand out to the salarian guards. “Please …. This is no way to start this summit.”

“This summit is a waste of all of our time,” the Dalatrass hisses, clearly disgusted with what Jana knows is a slur. “The krogan are nothing but savages who look for a fight anywhere they can find it. Whose side will you ultimately be on, krogan?”

“Dalatrass. Wrex,” Primarch Castis says with an authoritative tone, slicing a hand through the air as he hums. “This is not the time for past grievances. Dalatrass, you talk of krogan being nothing but war-driven savages, but you come here with armed guards, outnumbering all of us here. Were you expecting violence? Because all I see is a subtle hostility in your actions and an obvious sense of it in your bickering.”

Jon gives Garrus and his father a respectful nod in thanks for trying to diffuse the situation. “I agree. Let’s get to the matter at hand. The sooner we come to an agreement, the sooner we can act. The sooner we can start to turn the tide.”

“This is a foolish expectation,” the Dalatrass huffs, crossing her arms once more within her sleeves. “Just as before, the krogan will turn on us just as soon as the Reapers fall. Before we even get a chance to rebuild, we will be fighting another Rebellion. Krogan are greed and violence fueled brutes-”

“Brutes that are your only hope-” Wrex interrupts with a sneer. “And this krogan has a name. And it’s Urdnot Wrex. You’d do well to address me correctly.”

The Dalatrass merely scoffs and Jon gives a tired sigh, but it is the Primarch that steps forward, silencing his son’s forming remark with a raised hand.

“Enough,” Castis says with a sharp tone, bringing the argument to a halt immediately, though the Dalatrass and Wrex are still throwing glares at each other. “I’ve heard enough bickering. You both should know better than to act like children when lives are at stake.

“Dalatrass.” Humming, Primarch Castis lays his hands on the map of Alysim, pointing out the places where the Reapers are ravaging turiankind and humanity. “It is your right whether or not you will take our offer of an alliance, but if you continue to refuse, your people will be left to fight the Reapers alone. I am willing to do whatever it takes to win this war. The turian people will fight alongside the humans and the krogan.”

“Not so fast,” Wrex says with a grunt, stepping sideways so he can see everyone with both of his eyes. “We haven’t gotten to your end of the deal.”

“You haven’t said it.” Castis rumbles in slight irritation. “I’m not a telepath. You have to speak what it is you want.”

“I want the Genophage Curse lifted-”

“Absolutely not!” The Dalatrass shouts and her guards fidget in place,their distinguished posture faltering under the tension from such a demand.

Garrus’ dad ignores the salarian leader and instead turns his full attention to Wrex, shaking his head slightly. “What you’re asking is impossible. It hasn’t been done and centuries have passed since it was set upon your people.” He exhales through his nose, the sound a heavy sigh of exasperation. “You have to give us a stipulation we can actually accomplish in time. Our people don’t have the time to chase hypotheticals,” he adds with a motion of his hand to Jon and Jana.

The Dalatrass shakes her head adamantly. “I will not allow it. There will be no cure or attempt at lifting the Curse so long as the salarian empire exists.”

Wrex snorts derisively. “That won’t be long-”

“Wrex,” Jon says with a soft sigh. “You said you’re starting to see Corrupt at Tuchanka’s borders, but we know your strength is in how distant your people are from one another. It will take so much longer for the Reapers to conquer Tuchanka than it will be to wipe out humanity and the turian people. We just don’t have that luxury of isolation.” He frowns, his tone pleading. “The Reapers are hitting our people with full force, right at the hearts of our kingdoms. We need your help to stem the tide, to help slow their progress enough to build and bring the Crucible into battle. Please … give us something we can actually give you.”

“Jon, I came here because I knew it was you holding this summit. Because I trust you.” Wrex is quiet for a long time before he waves a hand at Grunt to come closer. “There is a chance at a cure.”

Retrieving a scroll from where it’s been strapped to Grunt’s back where a weapon must usually be, Grunt unravels it across the table. It is a map with a large drawing of a country, but Jana doesn’t know enough about Alysim to know which one it is. With it, Grunt also lays out a scroll with script that looks like different kinds of square shapes with points at their center.

“That’s salarian,” the Dalatrass says, shock filling her voice as she takes a hurried step closer. “Who wrote this? This is treason!”

“There are females - cured females,” Wrex explains with a raised brow towards Jon and the others, ignoring the Dalatrass. “They’re with the Dalatrass’ best scholars.” He smirks at the Dalatrass. “You got someone who doesn’t believe in you keeping them from my people. I got someone on the inside ….”

“Treason ….” The Dalatrass narrows her eyes at him. “You won’t get to them. I won’t allow -” She crosses her arms and looks to the side, dismissing them. “This is utter nonsense. There is no such thing as a cure to lift the Curse.”

“Wrex,” Jon says, laying a hand on the krogan’s shoulder as his brows furrow in confusion. “Are you sure?”

I'd bet my life - and this alliance - on it.”

Nodding, Jon turns to the Dalatrass as he picks up the written scroll to reveal the map Grunt had laid down. “Dalatrass, I trust him. Show us where your people are keeping the krogan females.”

The Dalatrass stares Jon down and says, “My people will die before I'll let you dock.”

“Then you’ll die.” The Primarch steps to the map and motions it with an outstretched hand. “Point to the location. The Reapers will reach Sur’Kesh soon and you won’t have support if you refuse. You will allow the Normandy to dock or you will have to face one of my war ships, the Fortitudo, as it comes into your waters.”

“You’re all threatening me?” She glares at Jon, then back at the Primarch. “You bring me here under the guise of diplomacy and alliances, but all you’ve done is hold my people hostage! You won’t get away with this, any of you.” She looks to Jon and says, “I expected this from the krogan, but you, Templar Shepard? Where is your loyalty to of Alysim? You don’t deserve the title bestowed to you by the Council, not with how you’re openly intimidating me! And you,” she says, turning to Primarch Castis, “Primarch. You won’t get away with this. The salarian people will remember this! You’d choose krogan over my people?”

“I have more reason to trust Wrex than I do you, Dalatrass,” Castis retorts, crossing his arms with a deep rumble. “Even if he has what sounds like unachievable stipulations, he is willing to send his people into battle to defend Palaven and my people. I haven’t heard anything from you to contribute to the war effort besides your prejudices and throwing a tantrum like a fledgling or worse, a chick out of the cowl. You refuse to set a compromise on the table in exchange for your aid.” He lifts a brow plate, sneering ever so slightly to betray his emotions. “Unless you think demanding the krogan be left out of this fight your conditions? Well.” He shakes his head with a growl. “I refuse.”

The Dalatrass is left speechless as Garrus’ father looks to Jon and Wrex expectantly.

Wrex nods, grinning at the Primarch as he offers a hand in trust and agreement. They both clasps forearms, though it’s clear the Primaach didn’t expect it.“You find a way to lift the Curse and you’ll have krogan in Palaven. And,” he adds, looking to Jon, “you’ll have us fighting alongside you when you take the fight to those ublyudoks attacking Terra.”

Jon nods in thanks as the Dalatrass flicks her hand in the air, scoffing.

“You won’t win without my people, Shepard,” she says with a sneer, the sound nearly a hiss. “Threats and those using them get nowhere in this world. In the end, you’ll really have no one, nothing.”

“Highly unlikely,” Garrus interjects. “A wise turian once said ‘Change with the tides of war or be drowned by them.’” He gives his father a glance and Jana’s sure he heard that saying from his very father, or at least someone else he personally knows.

“Thank you, Garrus,” his father says with a nod of his head. “Please, give us some privacy to plot our destination.”

“No offense,” Grunts starts, voice gruff as he eyes the salarian guards, “But I’d rather stay.”

“As you wish,” Jon says with a nod, leaning over the map of what Jana now realizes is Sur’Kesh - or the otherwise named salarian country.

Jana nods in parting to the Primarch, Wrex, and Grunt before leaving the Cabin to give everyone some more space. Hopefully, a new argument won’t break out now that the Dalatrass seems to have been successfully quelled, but Jana isn’t so sure.

Whatever may happen, though, she has other things on her mind.

“Garrus,” she says, getting his attention as she catches up with him. “Can we talk?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sure.” He looks around the top deck and motions towards one of the smaller rafts pulled up as high on its pulley. “Over there?”

Jana nods and leads the way, feeling the tension coming off of Garrus like waves. She knows he’s probably sensing that it’s important, but not sure what specifically she has to talk about.

She just hopes she doesn’t hit him too hard with the truth. She just … can’t feel good with his gift giving while her wounds are still so fresh. While she wants to, her guilt weighs as much as a dreadnaught on her shoulders.

I only hope that he doesn’t take it as something he’s done wrong.

As they come to the small boat- and the small bit of the deck where they seem to have some privacy - she turns to him and takes a deep breath.

“I wanted to talk about … the gift you left in my cabin today,” she starts, sighing as she looks away from his guilty expression.

“Oh …. I’m sorry,” he says with a saddened hum. “I just thought maybe you might like a new quill …. I heard that the feathers from quarian painted jays are the best you can get.” He huffs nervously. “I guess I didn’t hide it too well when we came back from the Markets.”

“Garrus.” Jana holds out her hand, but stops before touching him. Instead, she reaches for her ring. “I need …. I need to tell you about what happened in my reality.” Frowning, she bites her lip and gently removes her ring from beneath her ruffle-collared shirt.

“As you can probably guess, my universe had versions of everyone in it, different, but the same in many ways,” she starts before taking a deep breath. “Even you ….” Running her thumb over the band of her ring, she thinks back to her husband. “He was … like how Tali was to Jon.”

Garrus’ expression shifts as he starts to understand. He hums in sympathy, but doesn’t speak as he nods to continue.

“I was married, Garrus …. I was married to my Garrus, from my reality.” She blinks back tears, voice wavering. “And I lost him,” she whispers. “I made a stupid call and he ... he died.” This time, a tear slips down her cheek and she stubbornly wipes it away.

“He was my everything. My life,” she continues. “And when he died, a huge part of me died with him. I … gave up. I gave up on everything. Too many times, I comtemplated suicide, but guilt stopped me. He’d never have wanted that, never have wanted me to give up, but I did. I gave up on the war too.” She feels more tears escaping and she no longer fights them. “Everything went so wrong after him …. And the worst part was that I just didn’t care anymore. I killed people, let people die, and did things I’d never do. I became no more than a husk.”

“And I’m not helping ….”

“No, it’s not like that,” Jana says quickly, releasing her ring and looking up at him. “I really do enjoy the attention and I’ll always hold the quill to my heart, but I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t …. I don’t know if I’m good enough to ever return your feelings.

“I’m broken, Garrus. Shattered,” she continues, wiping her palms into her crying eyes to try and stem the tears. “I’m broken and you don’t deserve that. It’s not you. It was never you, but I don’t know if I can ever get over the guilt of moving on …. Especially for you.” She looks away, ashamed. “I don’t want you to feel like a replacement.”

Garrus hums thoughtfully and reaches out for her, stopping a breath’s distance from her face. “Do you … want me to stop?”

When she’s silent for a long time, not so sure if she does want to lose that attention, he thrums softly and finally touches her, cupping her chin to lift her head up.

“If you’ll let me,” Garrus says slowly, as if thinking his words over as he purrs soothingly. “If you’ll let me … I’d like to try to show you that it’s okay. I will never be him, and I don’t want to be …. I want to be a new love you can cherish ... but if it’s only to be like this, then I can handle that.” He cups her cheeks in his palms, caressing her tears away. “Will you let me?”

New tears spring forth, bittersweet and burning against her flushed cheeks. She can’t speak, only nod as she gently grips his wrists, closing her eyes..

Chapter 27: The Shores of Sur'Kesh

Chapter Text

The salarian vessels, the Tartnann and Yaojin, leave the Normandy’s side as soon as they reach the waters of the port city of Rannadril on the western reaches of Sur’Kesh. Their destination, the Tower of Mannovai, isn’t reachable by ship and lies in the center of the largest lake in Sur’Kesh, Olor. They will need to travel by foot once they dock and it seems like the only aid the Dalatrass sees fit to give them is a single salarian guide and the coordinates of the lake-bound island where the Tower stands.

Jana knows the lack of help is mostly out of spite on the Dalatrass’ part, but perhaps it’s for the best. She has no idea what kind of tension will surface traveling with both the salarian leader and two krogan she’s already shown great disrespect to.

Mark that, Jana does have an idea - and it doesn’t paint a pretty picture.

So probably for the best. But still …. It could’ve done for them to at least try to look helpful by guiding us into Rannadril’s docks and personally giving the okay for us - especially Wrex and Grunt - to arrive unannounced.

God, I really hope the Dalatrass at least sent a message that they were coming to someone important enough to otherwise cause trouble without her say-so.

“Leave it to those toads to turn tail because they think it’ll save face,” Wrex’s gruff voice says as he walks up to stand beside her at the railing of the Normandy’s deck. He scoffs. “If one single salarian tries to stand in our way here, I’ll be happy to see if they can really swim with my axe in their back.”

Jana raises a brow and gives him a sideways glance, taking in his new … attire.

Where turian and human armor seems smooth to the touch, Wrex’s dark, almost- black armor shows clear scars of battle damage along its layered chestplate, arms, and hump pieces. The same layered effect covers the back of his helm, closed with a mouth guard save for the opening across his forehead that’s cleared out of his line of sight. Flat patches from the hammer that forged it are also obvious and much bigger than any hammer Jana could’ve imagined used by any armorer other than krogan. A large, draping plume of some kind of thick, coarse-looking hair is attached to the very crest of his helm and is long enough to touch the ground as he holds his helmet tucked beneath his arm.

A massive, double-headed and two-handed axe rests on his back. The handle-end has some kind of bones she’s sure is meant for bashing into close enemies before he swings around the weapon to cut anything open with the sharp blades, also adorned with some kind of skulls and spikes on the head of the shaft around their bases.

She isn’t quite sure that wearing armor into salarian territory is the best choice for the two krogan, but who is she to tell them how to approach the obviously tense situation? It’s not like the sight of Wrex and Grunt are likely to bring armed guards running down the docks the moment the Normandy drops anchor if the Dalatrass already sent word. They should all just assume that a krogan wears full armor and weapons everywhere they go.

Hell, maybe even to bed for all the world knows.

“So you’re from another realm, eh?” Wrex eyes Jana with a long look. “This happen for you?”

“Uh, well,” Jana says, biting her lip and looking the - in her universe - dead krogan in the eyes.

It’s not like she can say she lost all hope and just ended up betraying him, lying about it, and then shooting and killing him. That’s not just something she can drop into an already suspicious sounding conversation.

“Sorta,” she finally comes up with, looking back out to the bustling city of Rannadril resting between the ocean and what looks like the edge of a forest. “Things didn’t go so well for me.” She leans on the railing and holds her hands together, dropping her head. “Cerberus knew where we were …. They attacked the lab.” She glances at him and gives him an apologetic frown. “There was only one female … and she was really sick when we finally got her to the Normandy.”

Wrex narrows his eyes at the unspoken, yet clearly insinuated confession of Eve’s death and crosses his arms, following her gaze to the city. “That won’t happen here. You just didn’t have the right people for the job.”

“You know who your informant really is?” she asks casually and he scoffs.

“No offense, but you aren’t really someone I’d answer that for.”

Jana snorts and nods. “Fair enough. We barely met a few days ago.” She purses her lips and takes a deep breath. “Maybe I can earn your trust, Wrex. There’s a saying where I’m from, ‘I trust you about as far as I can throw you.’” She chuckles and adds, “Maybe you can trust me that much.”

Wrex laughs and smacks her on the back. “I like that saying. We krogan can throw far , so you better be ready to work for it.” He stops as he turns away and looks her over again. “We’ll see how trustworthy you are when we fight. That’s always how you know.”

Us fighting got you killed ….

`Jana doesn’t respond with words, but a solemn nod as she watches him go, seeking out Jon on the helms deck beside Joker and EDI’s body.

EDI’s body looks very different from the Eva Core that managed to escape in Jana’s reality. Where she was obviously feminine to an almost unnatural degree that she balanced between a simple woman that took more care than necessary and an obvious fake, this stone body EDI’s taken is much more obvious as an attempt . Perhaps it used illusionary magic to blend in because its body is definitely lacking the form of a female human.

Clunky with rock, there’s a vague shape of a wider chest and hips, but any sort of breasts are either slight enough to be mistaken for shapes in the rock or the body completely lacks them. A glow illuminates runes along the torso and the ‘eyes’ of the construct and the only truly, unmistakably feminine feature is the face. With features that can’t possibly have been formed without deliberate - and extensive - chiseling, EDI’s new face looks … pretty even with her unearthly, glowing eyes and unmistakable, yet natural, blank expression. Jana knows EDI can express emotion, though, as she does when her face shifts ever so slightly - as if like a child testing emotional responses for the first time - as Jon speaks to her.

Scanning the top deck, she finds Tali as she heads towards the railing. She’s wearing the cloak that Jana had bought for her to hide her strange armor and Jana gives her a nod.

“How are things with the ground team?” she asks, then corrects herself to something more accurate. “Does the crew have the caravan party ready?”

Tali chuckles and nods, coming to the railing and leaning her hip against it as she crosses her arms. “Do you think this’ll work? Going to find these supposed female krogan?” She sighs and dips her head, solemn as she speaks again.”Eve didn’t make it ….”

“This will be different,” Jana says, not looking up from the ships all around them in Rannadril’s waters, some slowly heading back into the sea while passing obvious fishing vessels anchored in the deeper, darker waters. “I have to believe this will be different. We have to,” she reminds Tali.

Tali nods understandingly and takes a deep breath. “Yeah, you’re right. Stay positive.” She turns to Jana with a slight smile. “So, are you ready?”

“For the trip itself? Or for something else?” Jana raises a brow but starts to realize what Tali means. “Oh … you mean Garrus?” When Tali nods, Jana shakes her head with a soft smile. “No, I’m not worried anymore …. I told him,” she adds, raising her hand to touch the ring beneath her white blouse. “He was … understanding.”

He still wanted to be in my life … no matter what that entails ….

Tali hums as if she really understands and can read between the lines of what Jana’s saying. For all she knows, Tali does realize what Jana’s not quite saying aloud. They are best friends for a reason and that tends to come to unspoken revelations.

“They say Sur’Kesh is a swampy forest,” Tali finally says, changing the subject with a shrug as she turns to face the port city.

Jana squits, trying to see past the tall buildings of Rannadril and sees the canopy of trees just past the city’s boundaries.

“This is probably not going to be a fun walk,” Jana says sarcastically and sighs, just knowing what kind of weather surrounds swamps. That, and she’s pretty sure there aren’t going to be many roads made of solid ground. “Do you know who all is coming?”

Tali hums and starts to count on her fingers. “Garrus, his family, some Praetorians, us, Jameson, Liara, EDI - I think - Javik, Nihlus, and some of the crew. You know, like Doctor Chakwas, Chloe, Samatha, Steven, Harak …. Enough people to show us the way and carry supplies. Not as many as when we were in Palaven because I don’t think we can take the horses.”

“Sounds like we’re going to have to live off the land for food, then,” Jana says with a frown. “God, I really hope there is some kind of animal the salarians use to carry supplies though.”

“Me too …. But if not, it’s a good thing we packed light.”

Jana snorts, not sure her pack of armor and weapons is necessary ‘light’ when it comes to the possibility of carrying it who knows how far to get to the Tower of Mannovai. Pushing off the railing, she jerks her head towards the stairs leading down into the depths of the ship, pointing with a thumb over her shoulder.

“I’m heading down to get my things. I’ll probably stop by cargo to see if anyone needs help,” she says, giving Tali a pat on the shoulder before leaving. “Is your stuff already down in the Cargo Hold?”

“Hmm?” Tali blinks at her, obviously distracted at the sight of the waters full of ships coming and going. “Oh, no. I already have my stuff packed and down there. Jameson said he’d put it with everyone else’s stuff so it doesn’t get left behind.”

“Good idea,” Jana says in passing as she walks towards and down the stairs to the Crew Deck.

Grabbing her things from her cabin, she manages to find Solana doing the same. Solana is dressed in a formal looking, yet comfortable, dark aqua doublet with brown pants cinched up the sides from ankle to spur. On her feet, she wears sandals Jana’s found very common for turians with straps around the ankle and toes, but only has a sole beneath the base of her foot and leaves the shoe open for the toes. Jana gives Solana a nod and smile and Garrus’ sister, hefting her own pack of supplies, flares her mandibles in return.

“I see it’s not just me who likes to gather my things late,” Solana says with a chuckle and good-hearted rumble, the light of the lanterns playing in the gem of her crown. “Garrus teases me mercilessly about it because I’m always I’m prompt - even early - to everything else. The little snot,” she says with a snort.

Jana fights back her grin, sure it wouldn’t be good to be caught laughing at Solana’s frustrations with her brother. “I thought you were twins? But you call him ‘little?’” She finally chuckles. “I take it you are technically older?”

“By ten minutes.” Solana lifts her chin in pride and Jana laughs.

“I’m sure you remind him about that every chance you get?”

Solana grins, flaring her mandibles wide. “Absolutely.”

Humming, Jana takes a look around once they reach the steps down to the cargo hold, trying to estimate how many people will be in their caravan. “Do you know how many Praetorians your father will be taking? If you don’t mind me asking ….”

“Why would I mind?” Solana thrums warmly and flares a mandible. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid to ask questions because I’m the Athelina ,” she says with a huff, flicking her mandibles in exasperation. “ Spirits, I hate that.”

“Oh?” Jana chuckles softly. “I’ll keep that in mind.” She smiles, looking over Solana’s face.

Silver-plated just like her brother with markings very similar, but not as extensive as his, Solana’s eyes share that crystal blue hue but gives off a different kind of feeling to look at them. Where Garrus’ eyes speak of his fiery, impulsive nature, Jana instead sees an icy cunning in Solana’s eyes. Both Vakarian children are so alike, but also very different in nature.

Very much like ice and fire.

Jana’s happy that the sharp chill in Solana’s eyes doesn’t extend to her personality because Jana doesn’t know if she could stand traveling with a female version of their cousin, Severus. Humor and light-heartedness seem to be something all the Vakarians have to some degree with Solana and Garrus being the most open and inviting in nature.

Jameson calls out to them as they arrive, approaching in something that’s half jog, half fast step. “Thought you might never show, Ylva ,” he says with a grin before looking at Garrus’ sister and dipping his head politely. “ Athelina ….”

Solana scoffs and waves it off, smiling with a flare of both mandibles as she thrums warmly, giving Jameson a soft look. “Please, call me ‘Sol.’ ‘Solana,’ if you must.”

That grin reappears on his face as he puts both fists to his hips. “Just like your brother, then, eh? Well, Sol , glad to have you with us. We’re just getting things packed.” He huffs and glances between both women with a solemn look. “It’s going to be a long walk if we can’t get at least one fei from the salarians.”

“I take it that ‘ fei ’ is some kind of name for a mount here in Sur’Kesh?” Jana asks and Jameson huffs and laughs softly.

“Funny looking animal,” Solana explains with a slight chuckle as she waves Jameson to lead the way. “You’ll see. They pretty much make up for the manpower in Sur’Kesh. Why have people carry carts and haul shipments when you can have the fei s’ help? They’re compact enough to go in and out of ships at dock, unlike horses or lacerta .” She hums and shifts her bag to set it at her feet to free her hands. “Unfortunately, that makes them quite inefficient for turians to ride.”

Jameson snorts. “And you can forget getting a krogan on anything besides a kakliosaur .” He jerks his chin towards Solana’s pack. “I can take that for you if you want. I see you don’t have your armor or weapons yet.”

Solana smirks and looks Jameson up and down, standing much taller than Jameson even though he’s got almost a good foot on Jana’s short stature. “You think I need help carrying my things?”

“Uh ….” All ease drains out of Jameson as he fidgets, rubbing his head as he avoids her gaze. “I mean …. Uh, no offense …. I didn’t think that at all. I mean- look at you.” His eyes widen. “Not that way!”

Solana laughs, strong and loud as she picks up her pack and hands it to Jameson. “Tell you what. You carry my pack,” she says, grinning with flared mandibles as she leans closer to him. “You look like you’re quite the strongman of your species. How about we test that out?”

If Jameson could blush any deeper, Jana’s sure he’d be beet red, but his stubble and thick fur of his bear cloak thankfully hide quite a bit of his neck and cheeks. He doesn’t say a word as he swallows and takes Solana’s things but soon grins as he hefts its weight.

“This all?” he asks Solana and grins wider when she nods. “You can bet I’ll get this there, Spurva .”

Solana rumbles as she watches Jameson swagger off to gather his own things, shaking her head but flaring a mandible. “Is he always like that?”

Jana smirks and lifts a brow. “Well, not quite like that.” She chuckles and follows Solana to where some of the crew are bundling and packing people’s weapons and armor for travel. “I’ve never seen him at a loss for a snarky comeback.”

“And ‘ Spurva ?’”

Jana shrugs, saying, “You’re going to have to ask that one yourself. I have no idea what some of the things he says mean.” Nodding in thanks to the group of crew when she finds her armor packed with her sword and shield strapped on the outside of the bundle for ease of access, Jana continues. “I guess not everything changed to make sense for me when we … came here.”

Solana nods in understanding, humming in consideration. When Jana waves goodbye, Solana lifts her own hand in parting.

Jana makes her way to the others just in time to see the crew opening the gangplanks and revealing the sight of a row of armed, heavily armored guards standing between the Normandy and the docks of Rannadril and its many - now curious - citizens.

“What is this?” Garrus says, pulling his mandibles in tight against his jaw. He leaves his things with the others as he storms down the gangplank, flaring his wings a bit in agitation. “Have you not read a decree sent from your own Dalatrass to let us through?”

The guards don’t speak, their helmets flat with bare face plates save for the intricately carved details of fish along the sides and a thin slit for their eyes hidden amongst the etchings. It makes for a very intimidating sight and cold welcome, but Garrus doesn’t falter, stepping out onto the small space of dock their encircling formation has left.

“Do you have any idea who I am?” he asks and, for once, Jana wishes he would’ve worn his crown like Solana has. “I’m the Atheling -”

“Of Palaven,” a weedy voice says as a salarian dressed in a brightly colored tunic with a wide, ruffled collar pushes their way through the guards’ line. “Yes, yes. We know well enough who you are.”

The salarian has an expression on their face much like the one Jana once saw on Administrator Anoleis’ face back on Noveria. It’s one that is both irritated at being bothered and believing themselves to be too important not to know everything going on in equal measures.

She hate’s that kind of look.

“My name is Moahjin,” the salarian says, flicking their eyes over the Normandy before waving someone over from behind the guards. A smaller, seemingly less self-important looking salarian approaches with a large book in their arms.

“I am the dockmaster here,” Moahjin says as they flip the heavy book open in their assistant’s arms. They retrieve a set of - apparently - salarian designed glasses that loop over their horns in the place of ears from a pocket on their tunic. “I see the Dalatrass did send word ahead of your arrival …. But you must be aware of our policies on krogan in Sur’Kesh.” They glance at Garrus. “She warned of them coming.”

Jana hears a commotion coming from around her and she steps away just in time not to be shoved as Wrex plows through the gathered crew, coming down the gangplank.

“What’s this now?” He sneers at the guards as they all shift in unison to ready their weapons. “I knew it. That withered, old toad wasn’t going to let us enter Sur’Kesh with her permission,” he says and growls, reaching for his weapon which, in return, makes the entire group of salarian guards take a step forward with one loud, deafening stomp.

“Stop!” Jon rushes forward through the crowd on the Normandy, throwing back an apology quietly to anyone he may have shoved too roughly. “Wait!” he says again, pushing a hand against Wrex’s chest as he gets to him and raising a scroll up to the dockmaster with the other. “We have written permission from the Dalatrass herself to let us and the krogan pass.”

The dockmaster scoffs and shares a doubtful glance with their assistant. However, they take the scroll and unravel it to get a look at its contents, reading the geometric shapes that must obviously be salarian script. They hum, a long sound that shifts easily into a sigh as they reach the bottom.

Giving the guard line one more, almost mournful, look, the dockmaster waves their hand to lower their weapons. “Templar Shepard does, indeed, carry the Dalatrass’ seal. We must abide by her orders and let the krogan through. But only two!” they add, glaring at Wrex long enough for Wrex to calm enough to ease the grip on his weapon, but not enough that he doesn’t spit a thick glob of spit on the docks at the salarian’s feet. The dockmaster makes a high pitched noise of disgust as they step back and turn their gaze to Jon. “You are only allowed two krogan, Templar. If there are more on your ship, then the Normandy is not allowed to stay at anchor here.”

Jon dips his head and takes the rerolled scroll back. “I understand. We ,” he says, giving Wrex a meaningful look, “understand.”

Wrex grunts and crosses his arms. “Next time I get a weapon drawn on me, I’m letting heads roll.”

“That’s as good as you’re going to get to an agreement,” Garrus says when the dockmaster narrows their eyes at the krogan.

Jon steps between the salarian and the Wrex to get the dockmaster, Moahjin’s, attention. “We are in a bit of a hurry. We’re going to need a way to carry our things … and you read that the Dalatrass promised us a guide through the forest.”

The assistant says something too softly for Jana to hear from where she is gathering her things, but she does manage to catch the ‘we don’t have that many fei .’

Looks like we’re hoofin’ it.

“My assistant is right,” Moahjin says, giving the exiting Normandy crew a scrutinizing glance. “We don’t just have dozens of fei to spare for some … whim. Even if krogan could ride them, I’d rather be found of disobedience than allow a krogan to ride and sully Rannadril’s fei . And you know, Atheling , that turians are not fit-”

“Just give us something we can use to carry some supplies,” Garrus interrupts with a low, annoyed growling Jana manages to hear as she crosses the gangplanks to stand beside the others. “Your swamps don’t have nearly enough food for the whole of our caravan to eat. And we need a guide. You’re honor-bound to offer anyone with proof of the importance of their travels a way to carry at least some of their supplies.”

“I can buy them,” Jon adds, holding up his hands to calm the situation that’s slowly regaining steam. “We just need, three - maybe even two.”

Huffing, Moahjin waves their hands flippantly at their assistant. “Go, get the paperwork ready for three fei . And gather our runners to find a guide for them. Off!” As the assistant clicks their heels before running off, Moahjin narrows their eyes and stares Jon down. “You are responsible for our creatures. If they are harmed or killed, you will be responsible for completely replacing them - trained and fit for duty. They are much more valued than your stinking cattle.”

“We ride horses ,” Jana has to say, giving the exasperated Jon an apologetic half-shrug. “Show the Templar some respect, dockmaster .”

Moahjin scoffs, plucking their glasses off and neatly folding them before slipping them into their tunic’s breast pocket. “Come, then, Templar Shepard . We’ve matters to discuss concerning our arrangement.”

“What an ass,” Jana says quietly as the two are leaving and the guards are dispersing, though still leaving a few too many to be ‘normal dock security’ stationed around the Normandy.

“Putting it lightly,” Garrus continues with a chuckle as he looks down at her. “You ever get into this much of a mess back home?”

Jana chuckles and shrugs. “Same stuff, different day, I guess.”

“Probably going to get the same at the Tower,” Wrex growls as he turns back to the Normandy - most likely to gather the things he left behind in his rush to get out to defend the ship and her crew.

“So … uh.” Garrus rubs his neck and looks around at the crowd exiting the ship to get everything ready for their journey. “I saw you talking with Sol ….”

Remembering the ‘little snot’ remark from Solana and the fact that it seems like their slight - mere minutes - difference in ages seems to be a running joke, Jana smirks at the obvious sibling dynamics between the two. “Oh, yeah. She’s definitely fun to talk to.”

“ Spirits, don’t tell me that .” He shakes his head and runs a hand over his fringe. “Now I’m imagining all the things she could’ve told you. How long did you have to talk to her? Did she do all the talking? Did she say anything about me-”

Jana laughs and pats Garrus’ arm. “Calm down. I promise, there wasn’t anything embarrassing that we talked about. Your sister’s really nice …. And I think Jameson has a crush on her.”

Garrus sighs and closes his eyes, giving his head a half shake. “ Spirits … I’m never going to hear the end of it from either of them if they actually find out they both have tormenting me in common.”

Laughing, Jana nudges him. “Aw, come on. I’m sure you can pester your sister just as badly as she can you.”

“She brought up our ages yet?” he asks, humming in apparent satisfaction when she nods. “Yeah, thought so. She loves to bring that up. And if Jameson finds out?” He huffs and a whine comes from his throat, clipped and short. “I already get it enough hearing his wonderful nickname for me - ‘ highness. ’”

“Oh?” Jana raises a brow, smirking at the snarky nickname Jameson has to have known would softly tease at Garrus’ embarrassment over his royalty. “That’s what ‘ Hoyhet’ means?” She smiles when Garrus nods with a dejected sigh and nudges him again, her expression warming. “You really don’t like being called anything royal, do you?” she asks with genuine concern.

“No,” he says, but shakes his head and clears his throat. “No, it’s not like I don’t like it. I just ….” His vocals buzz as he rubs his neck, looking away. “I just feel … awkward being the only one who’s of royal blood around Jon and the others. I don’t want them to think I’m - I don’t know - silently judging them against myself.” He huffs and grins, “I just want them to think of me as better with a bow than their actual social standings.”

Jana smiles, laying a hand on his arm and giving it a soft squeeze before releasing it. “I think they all know it and are just messing with you. That … but maybe you might need to show off your archery skills some more just in case,” she adds with a smirk to ease his tension. “To make sure they have no doubt.”

At that, Garrus chuckles and nods softly. “No doubt.” He turns to the ship and takes a step towards the ship’s gangplanks before stopping. “And, thanks. Not many people really ask me why I don’t like to be called Atheling . And when some do, they usually laugh it off.” He shrugs with a rumbling in his chest. “I guess I’m more comfortable with the jokes when I know everyone’s not just doing it to put me in my place.”

“Oh, no,” Jana says with an adamant shake of her head. “ Noone thinks that.” She smiles warmly, chuckling softly at how easily Garrus is misplacing the intention of the Normandy crew’s teasing. “And, if you ask me, I think you should embrace it more. You can both embrace your standing and stay an equal to us.” Smirking, she shifts the weight of her pack on her shoulder and turns away, glancing over her shoulder at him. “Keep the crown. You look good in it.”

She leaves him, stunned on the gangplank at the admission and unable to form a response, and smiles softly to herself that he seems to at least have taken her words into consideration about embracing his position in this world by the slight hint of acceptance in his eye. Who knows what kind of doors they can open with his royal title that Jon can’t with his station as a Templar?

Admittedly, she also really enjoys seeing that black crown perched on his head. It adds an elegant touch to his already handsome features. It’s simplistic, but beautiful in design and color and even without him knowing, he walks with a bit of a swagger and holds his head higher with it on.

Chapter 28: The Halegeuse Forest

Chapter Text

To no ones’ surprise, Jon doesn’t have a guide with him when he returns from speaking with Rannadril’s all too important to be bothered dockmaster - of whom Jana mostly remembers by the bad taste in her mouth they gave her and not necessarily by name. Jon has an apologetic smile on his face when he reaches the group and tries to play off the obvious lack of willingness to offer any aid but the bare minimum with a joke.

“So, who wants to see what it’s like to ride a fei? I managed to get us three for the trip,” he says as he comes to a stop before them, arms akimbo as he smiles slightly. “We’re going to have to take turns.”

Though his humor eases some of the tension in the group, the obvious fact that three fei definitely can’t carry the weight of everyone or their things is on everyone’s minds. It’s going to have to be up to Jon, Stephen, Nihlus, and Doctor Chakwas to figure out what they can and can’t pack and carry on the animals’ backs. They’ll need food, water, equipment to tend to their weapons and armor, at least the basics for making camp, and medical supplies in case things go bad on their journey and someone gets hurt.

While the few people from the crew that are coming with the caravan pack the three fei with what essential supplies are agreed upon, Nihlus appears out of the crowd, wearing a tunic and jacket set in rich blacks, ambers, and golds. With him is a traveling merchant by the name of Morlan, who just so happens to be available to guide them westward through the Halegeuse Forest that covers a good stretch of the distance between Rannadril and the Tower of Mannovai. There are small settlements in between, but those who tend to live there aren’t much for taking treks away from home for strangers - and especially not krogan.

For Jana, the help from the merchant - which just so happens to be free - leaves her anxious and suspicious. Not only does he not know the exact route to the Tower because he’s never even been, but she also knows that no one does anything for free. Not in any reality or circ*mstance unless there’s something they want otherwise.

“I still owe you for getting me out of that mess with Armistan Banes,” Morlan tells Jon when Nihlus explains their problem to the merchant. “If not for you, I’d still be owing more coin than I was making for his ‘protection.’”

Jana remembers something about an ‘Armistan Banes’ back in her universe and Doctor Michel being blackmailed long before Sovereign revealed its true self. Then-Captain Anderson had helped her, but the lead led to a dead end. Quite literally as Banes was found dead sometime before and the only reason Doctor Michel was still being harassed was because word must not have reached Bane’s ‘representatives.’ While Jana ended the blackmailing, she never really found out how to stop them from preying on other innocent people she wasn’t aware of.

It’s good to know that Jon was able to do a better job with Chloe and Morlan here in tracking down and apprehending Banes - who was still alive - for the Citadel guard to take over. He managed to connect the man and a few of his henchmen to real, punishable crimes and it sounds like they will be locked up in the prison outside of the Citadel for a long time.

With all three fei Jon had managed to wheedle out of the dockmaster packed with essential supplies for the trip, Morlan gathers up his relatively small fei weighed down with his own ‘wares’ from in front of the nearby trading company and starts to guide them down the less occupied streets of Rannadril in order to keep out of any crowds building with the rising of the sun. It takes them around the majority of the city center, which takes longer than cutting straight through on the main avenue, but it’s for the best given their krogan companions and the uproar their presence may cause.

Fei are indeed strange animals as Solana had said. To Jana, they look like wingless pterodactyls with their long beak-like snout, thin neck, and long front legs that seemed to have once been a wing, but are now evolved into multiple-jointed front legs. Their stature is almost completely upright and definitely odd looking when Jana compares them to the flat-backed, horizontal silhouettes of horses or lacerta, but they are still able to strap quite a bit of their supplies to the fei’s backs. She isn’t sure if the animals are fit to ride but she thinks she sees a saddle beneath all of Morlan’s things, giving her the impression that he rides whenever his poor mount isn’t already carrying a hefty amount of goods.

Traveling through the Halegeuse Forest is miserable and even though everyone is trying their best to distract each other with conversation, the humidity, heat, and bugs are a constant, nagging nuisance. A short downpour of rain doesn’t help when it does nothing for the humidity and heat or when Morlan offhandedly mentions the frequency of the rains here, seemingly the only one despite the animals comfortable in their trek.

Jana’s thankful that Javik’s mention of the salarian just eating the bugs pestering them is quiet enough and quickly quelled by Liara’s jab of her elbow into his waist. He glares at her but quiets down, growing solemn as his insectile wings twitch beneath his oversized robes.

“You know,” Solana says out of the blue, rumbling in an attempt to get everyone’s attention with a promise of something interesting she has to say, “this reminds me of a story of when Garrus and I were fledglings.”

Some of their group’s curiosities are piqued and even Garrus lets his sister continue despite the probability that this is bound to be an embarrassing story. As most are when the storyteller is trying to distract or entertain.

Humming as she walks - wearing the same sandals Jana saw Solana wearing earlier today - Solana chuckles to herself, unperturbed by the sucking and slurping noises of the mud around her barely covered feet. All the turians are in the same situation, though their footwear varies slightly from armored boots, to Garrus’ leather wraps, to Solana’s sandals. Luckily, the Primarch and his mate didn’t join them.

Jana’s noticed that Garrus’ mom is oftentimes too weak to walk for long periods of time, let alone in this kind of gunk and grime. She needs assistance on the Normandy at times when the ship’s rocking particularly hard and even Jana can see the woman is frailer than the other turians on the ship. More than regular turians Jana’s seen offhandedly at the Citadel or when they were at Taetrus too.

None of their turian companions can fly in the dense forest either. The Praetorians Mierin and Lantar tried, but all they could successfully do in order to keep a higher ground and protect Garrus and Solana was to perch on the lowest branches and carefully hop or climb between trees, with which they weren’t too successful due to their massive wings even if they held them close to their bodies.

“So,” Solana starts, smiling as she gives Garrus a knowing glance. “When we were young, an Aratorem came to the castle one day bearing gifts in admiration of our parents. He brought with him exotic fruit trees for the castle gardens. Do you remember their name, Garrus?”

Garrus shakes his head, flicking his mandibles. “Not really. I just remember that they came from Dekunna. Something rare and hard to cultivate ... with pink flowers and white fruit ….”

Solana waves it off and continues. “That’s not important …. The Aratorem wanted favor with my father and mother and knew how important the gardens were to our mother. And anything that made my mother happy gained my father’s approval. I don’t know what his intentions were once he got it.”

She chuckles and smiles at her brother who’s starting to show signs of recognition over which story Solana’s bringing up from their past. “With his men, the Aratorem began to tend to the soil and brought in carts of fertilizer. You would think he was going to plant an entire orchard with how much he brought in.”

“We snuck out of lessons to watch,” Garrus picks up with, shaking his head slightly with a huff. “We raced to the gardens to see why so many people were working. To us, they were destroying the garden, not tilling and preparing the soil in a previously empty patch of the gardens. We managed to find the patch of grounds empty - the workers taking a break, no doubt.”

Solana nods and rumbles, amused at their memories. “We jumped into the mud pit where they’d pulled up the ground and were mixing it with manure. At the time, we didn’t know that’s what that smell was,” she says as soft chuckles rumble through the group. “Who knew xemna manure smelled so … unassuming? All we knew was that we had a huge muddy mess to play in.”

“By the time the Aratorem and his workers returned, we were covered,” Garrus says with an amused flicking of his mandibles. “They chased us away, wielding their rakes and hoes in hand. We ran into the castle courtyard and into the castle itself just in time for a groundskeeper to shoo them off, not knowing we’d just scrambled to safety inside the castle doors.”

Chuckling, Solana nods and looks at the few people around her whose gazes would sometimes turn to her in attention. “Now, just within the main doors of the castle was a very rare, very old fur of a moonbeam tigris on the floor. It was huge - maybe the biggest tigris that lived - and it was from a hunt my great grandfather took when he had just taken the throne. The beast nearly killed him ….”

“And ...,” Garrus drawls, dragging out the word as he flutters his mandibles in embarrassment. “And we ran right across it, getting mud and manure covered footprints across the center of the priceless fur.” He rubs his head with a sigh, flicking his mandibles at the audible gasps and murmurs in the group. “We were sure my father would hide us for it.”

“Only ….” Solana hums and taps her chin with her finger, looking up at the smallest amount of light filtering through the canopy. “He didn’t ….” She smiles. “He looked bound to, but then my mother came in to see the fuss why our instructors were scrambling and scolding us. She took one look at the situation and burst into laughter.” She chuckles and says, “I think it completely disarmed my father. You could see it on his face - he didn’t know what to do anymore.”

“It’s probably the first time I’ve ever seen him at a loss for words. All he did was sigh dejectedly.” Garrus smiles at Jana when she glances up at him. “No one told us that we played in feces and tracked it around the main hall of the castle until years later.”

Solana snorts. “You mean when I figured it out one day?” Chuckling, she nods and says, “I was in the middle of combat training when it hit me, ‘Garrus and I played in xemna crap.’ And tracked it Spirits know where in the castle!”

Jana laughs, hearing the sound echo through the majority of the group. Who knows what they may be walking through at the moment, but it certainly helps to imagine two young turians ruining a family heirloom with their antics and unintended destruction. It also seems to help humanize the two royals with the others of the crew that don’t know them as well as Jon or even Jana does. If not for her previous conversation with Solana earlier in the day, she’d never have guessed such a story would come from the previously thought to be cold turian.

“Well,” Jon says as he sludges his way through the mud and points out a rock for Tali next to him to try stepping on to get out of the mud. “I hope we find clean water to wash off with before we try to make an impression at the Tower. Wouldn’t want you two to have a return of your childhood antics.”

Jana hadn’t noticed how quiet the forest had gotten - the usual bird chatter growing deathly silent - until someone steps on a branch in the path, its snapping sounding like a reverberating crack that echoes in the forest.

As soon as it happens, it’s like a switch is flipped and all hell breaks loose. The water around them explodes with life as previously hidden beasts begin to burst forth from the muck. The fei panic and the non-combatant crew scramble to control them, surrounding the animals with their bodies to protect themselves and the weighed down animals.

Surrounding them is a pack of insectile creatures, long, segmented, and many-legged with massive, dangerous-looking pinchers on their flat heads clacking and clicking loudly. The deep black of their carapaces shine through the mud sloughing off them as they arch like snakes ready to strike, charging with deadly hisses.

“Protect the others!” Jon shouts as he and the other quickly draw their weapons and form two circles, one directly around the crew and the other steps away in a larger perimeter.

With a flare of his wings, Garrus takes to a low hanging branch and begins to launch arrows into the pack of beasts as Grunt and Wrex charge forward. Jana watches Wrex easily chop one of the beasts in half before kicking its severed head and body away from the group as Grunt smashes another with weapon and feet.

“Watch their venom!” someone yells just in time for Jana to jerk her shield up to protect her face from a volley of venomous mucous-like saliva.

Garrus crouches along the branches and nocks an arrow, shooting the insectoid beast currently harassing Jana in its flat head. She then takes the chance to charge and stab her blade in right beside the arrow, turning her head away from the splatter of greenish-gray fluid that spurts from the wound. With a sharp kick and yank of her sword, she knocks the beast back before cleaving off its head. The thing still snaps its pinchers at her, trying to bite her, but Garrus drops down beside her, grabs it by the arrow firmly planted in its chitin, and flings it back into the bog blanketed in a sickly, grayish-brown miasma.

“Thanks,” she quickly says to him as she watches him toss aside the shaft that broke off from the arrow.

He nods and takes a position back in the trees. Jana flicks the beast’s blood off her sword before turning back to the battle.

She sees one - much larger than the previous - crawling up behind Grunt and rushes over, stepping on its tail just above the sharp-looking pincers there to stop it in its tracks. It hisses, the sound sort of like that of small gun parts shaking about in an empty metal container, and arches.

It strikes, but Jana blocks with her shield, feeling the brunt force of its charge as it clamps its front pincers around her buckler. That gets Grunt’s attention as he spins and growls, stomping on its tail and forcing it to release Jana’s shield.

As it turns on Grunt, Jana slashes, swiping its head from its long body. The force of her blow sends the head flying far enough that Grunt has to run over to kick it far into the swamp. He laughs at the squirming body and stomps it before giving Jana a huge, manic grin.

Jana huffs a weak laugh, remembering her own Grunt’s childlike pleasure in killing. Looking around, she finds most of the attack has been quelled and only a few of the centipede-like creatures are left but quickly being taken care of.

When it seems like the last of them have been beheaded, their bodies left to squirm for a few seconds before finally growing still. There’s a moment where everyone is silent, eyes scanning the swamp surrounding them. Even the non-combatant crew wait with bated breath before it seems like the entire caravan lets out a deep, relieved sigh.

“Garrus?” Jon asks, looking to the trees. “Do you see or hear anything? Wrex? Smell anything?”

Wrex is first to answer with a grunt and says, “Nothing but the swamps. Wouldn’t put it past them to smell like the osadok though.”

A hum comes from above just before Garrus jumps down beside Jana, making her think that he stayed by her side during the fight. “I agree. It smells horrible now that the Myriaepods disturbed the waters and muck. It’s like it was all hidden beneath the surface and they released it out into the air.”

Morlan clears his throat, still huddled up with the rest of the crew. “Yes, that’s possible. It often smells stronger during rains or if you disturb certain parts of the forest’s waters.”

“Lovely,” Jana says sarcastically, and a few of the group chuckle, though it’s tired and wary.

“I didn’t see anything stirring,” Garrus adds, looking out across the densely packed forested swamp once more from his new position on the ground. “If anything’s out there, it wasn’t agitated by the fight. And except for the occasional gurgle of mud, it’s quiet. It looks like it’s getting darker, though.”

Jon nods and cups his chin, humming in his throat as he looks up at the barely visible sky. Jana notices that the rays of light filtering through the canopy have dulled, the sun’s light weakening with the coming night. She knows they need to camp soon, give everyone a break from their heavy packs - the fei especially - but she’d rather they push on a bit so they don’t have to camp near these disgusting … Myriaepods.

She assumes that’s their name.

“Let’s push forward for a bit longer,” Jon says, glancing at the crew and the heavily packed fei. “We all need the rest, but we’ll walk a bit more in case there’s more around.”

Everyone seems to murmur some kind of agreement and Jon takes the lead again, Tali and some of the other fighters of the group joining them. The rest of the combatant party split apart to either walk beside the crew and fei or take up the rear.

“Hey,” Grunt says as he slows down to speak to Jana at the back of the line. “Good fight.” He grins. “You fight well. You earned your keep in Jon’s krantt.”

Jana chuckles lightly and nods. “Thanks, Grunt. Glad I have your approval,” she says with a smile. “I know Jon’s important to you and Wrex …. Hell, to everybody.”

Grunt merely hums as he returns to his post on the right of the caravan, easily stomping through the mud with his large feet.

Glancing at Garrus somewhat at her side, Jana smiles when she gets his attention. “Thanks, again. You’re always watching my back.”

Garrus flares his mandibles, smiling back. “I’ll always watch your back, Jana. Always.”

Jana hides her blush by looking at the ground in front of her feet and says, “Well, thank you. Uh …” She chuckles nervously. “Sorry about your broken arrow,” she says, remembering how she sometimes sees him collecting arrows after previous battles.

He rumbles in confusion before chuckling in understanding. “That’s okay. Arrows break more often than not … and I know how to make my own arrows.”

“You do?” she asks, finally looking back to him. “That’s … pretty cool.”

Huffing, he rubs his neck as his mandibles flutter. “Yeah, I guess. Arrowheads are available at pretty much any blacksmith and carving the shafts are kinda calming ….” He clears his throat and flares a mandible. “I kinda like to make things out of wood to relax. Usually on the Normandy or when we camp …. If I’m not already exhausted from a big fight, of course.”

Jana nods in agreement with the latter and tilts her head, trying to imagine what he might whittle out of wood. “Maybe you can show me what you make one day.”

“Of course. I’d be happy to.”

By the time Jon finds them a wide enough patch of hardened ground for them to make camp, the sun has set and the only light they have comes from their lanterns or torches. The campground is still a tight fit, but no one complains once they get enough tents thrown up and someone starts a fire for Harak to cook some of their supplies - dinner always seeming to brighten everyone’s mood. Even though it’s so dark Jana can barely see through the darkness outside of the halo of their camp, the torches, fire, and lanterns scattered throughout the camp give her some comfort.

Spreading out her bedroll in the tent she’ll be sharing with … she doesn’t quite know thanks to Tali hanging out more with Jon and the assumption they’ll be bunking together in the same tent. She’s sure it won’t be too difficult to sleep with whoever’s in her tent because basic taught her how to sleep with even the loudest of snorers. Her only hope is that they don’t flail or uncomfortably cuddle in their sleep. What she does know is that it’s not a turian because she’s noticed that they prefer to sleep in hammock-like beds as she frequently saw back on the Normandy.

She tucks her pack in the tent, pressed up against the corner where her feet will be so it’s out of the way of her tent partner. As she stands to straighten out her spine, she lets out a deep breath. She then runs her hands over her braided hair to check if anything has come undone and will need to be re-braided, but it feels fine, just a few stray hairs disturbed but not enough to worry her with getting in the way during a fight.

When she looks out into the dark forest, she sees … a glimmer of light. She frowns in confusion over who in their right mind would be traversing the swampy forest in pitch black with nothing but a lantern to light the way. They look like they’re not too far behind on the path and she steps closer, squinting her eyes in an attempt to get a better look.

Something about it beckons her to leave the camp so she can help the traveler back to the safety of the camp. She’s almost … happy at the idea of helping someone.

“I wouldn’t do that,” a deep voice says, making Jana’s shoulders tense up in surprise.

Turning to Wrex, she motions her head towards the lantern light. “I think there’s someone coming up on us.”

He hums, the sound raspy in his throat as his gaze flicks up before looking down at her. He shakes his head and says, “That ain’t no traveler. It’s a will o’ wisp.”

“A what?” Jana glances back at the light and frowns in confusion. “That … isn ‘t something from my reality.”

“Will o’ wisps are ublyudoks that trick people into following them,” Wrex explains with a growl, motioning the motionless but flickering - they could get lost if it goes out! - light. “Don’t look too hard at it or you’ll be sucked in.”

The words take a few seconds to make sense for Jana and, once they do, she blinks rapidly and shakes her head, hand coming up to rub her palm over her temple. “I …. I wanted to go out there, thinking it was a person who needed help.”

Wrex hums and nods. “That’s what they do to you if you watch them or listen to them. Bet you felt better lookin’ at it.”

“.... Yeah, I did. How’d you know? Is that what it does too?”

Wrex nods with a grunt. “Makes you feel all giddy inside and you run off like an idiot. Then, when it gets you out in the middle of nowhere, it disappears, leaving you lost.” He leans closer to her. “You don’t want to be lost in the swamps. Or anywhere, but especially not here …. Because you can’t see the sun and you never know if you’ll be stepping in mud or on a Myriaepod nest. You could even find a sinkhole out there. Ain’t no water to drink either. What’s here’ll kill you just the same.”

“Wow,” Jana says in astonishment, eternally grateful for Wrex’s interference. What he describes would be a horrific way to die. “Thanks. Really, thank you, Wrex.I’d have been one of those idiots.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Wrex jerks his chin towards the bright light of the cooking fire. “You watched our back, fought like a true warrior.” Crossing his arms, he looks her over. “You helped Grunt too.”

For a long time, he merely looks at her and she grows uncomfortable just watching him, the only movement coming from him in the way his nostrils flare slightly with each breath.

“I like you,” he finally says, dropping his arms. “And Jon likes you. They all like you. And I’m starting to see what they see in you.” He holds out his arm for a forearm grip and Jana returns the gesture without hesitation. “I’ll fight alongside you in battle.”

Jana knows that’s a big deal for any krogan and to get this kind of reaction from both Grunt and Wrex makes her smile at the krogan and give his armored forearm as tight as a squeeze as she can before they shake. She knows he didn’t feel it, but when she thinks about it, it’s the act was more for her sake and confidence than Wrex’s.

Chapter 29: The Lake Olor

Chapter Text

Chapter 29: The Lake Olor

They arrive on the shores of the lake, Olor, just as the sun reaches its peak in the partially cloudy sky, the forest petering off as it draws closer to the water so that everyone finally gets to see something above their heads despite the overbearing canopy of trees. The humidity seems to have gotten a bit better too, perhaps calmed by the cooler air coming off the lake. There’s still enough to stick to the skin like wet clothes, but the bit of breeze does wonders when compared to the usual stillness of the forested swamp.

Unlike they suspected, the Tower isn’t just at Olor, but in the middle of a large section of the massive lake on an island encompassing the large castle and its grounds. They’ll need to take a boat or two across because getting to the nearest town on the shore of the lake is bound to waste enough of the day that they’d be at the Tower of Mannovai when dark hits. They’re all pretty sure the scholars and magisters there are unlikely to just hand over a good number of beds to those who make it over after sundown.

That, and everyone - though they don’t say it aloud - knows getting a boat from a small town of salarians while krogan are in their group and their packs are obviously laden with armor and weapons is going to be more hassle than it’s worth. Forget getting to the Tower at night through unknown waters. They may not get anywhere for days as Jon tries to sweet-talk the settlement’s leadership.

As they come to the shore, the Normandy crew start to set up a small camp meant more for them to get a chance to relieve themselves and the fei of their heavy packs than pitch tents for sleep. They do set up an area for Jon to gather the others into talks of the situation and it’s there that Jana finally sees Tali and gives her a smile, thankful that her friend seems to have gotten out of the forest without too much mud clinging to her suit and cloak overall.

Her feet? Absolutely but that can be washed off, not too different from any time before if they were to travel on foot in a dirty environment.

“We’ll be crossing the lake today,” Jon says as he leans over a map of this region of Sur’Kesh he happened to convince the dockmaster at Rannadril to hand over. “I had Samatha sent across a raven to ask for boats to cross. With hopes, they’ll have received a decree already from the Dalatrass to await our arrival, but if not, I’ve sent word that we come under her permission. They’re more likely to grant us some boats than the nearby township to the north.”

“Agreed,” Nihlus says as he crosses his arms, one eye scanning the map. “I might be the only one who knows anything about this place, so I’ll explain what little I know ….

“They’re doing what they call ‘research’ here, but it’s more like questionable and highly unethical experiments. They have all manner of animals and creatures, some nothing more than varren or rebobs, but I even heard word of them being stupid enough to try to capture trolls.” He hums as he looks around the group and adds, “Yahg,” as if in explanation - which seems to work as some of the others give looks of realization and surprise.

Jon frowns and stands up from the table. “I don’t like that …. We learned that Yahg aren’t just mindless animals. They can think . That doesn’t necessarily make them dangerous but does make them more than a simple beast and perfectly capable of violence. Everyone says ‘troll’ because we think it’s just a drooling, aggressive creature that attacks on sight, but we know better.” He glances at Liara and she nods, wringing her hands, but not explaining further.

Javik makes a humming noise in his throat as he crosses his arms. “They were small beasts in my time … but nonetheless vicious.”

“For anyone who hasn’t seen a troll, they’re big ,” Garrus says to the others, giving Jon and Liara a good look before rumbling. “We fought one … with the other Normandy crew.”

“Fought one of them before,” Wrex says with a gruff tone and nod. “Not an easy ublyudok to kill either.”

“I trust the former beast hunter,” Jameson says before clearing his throat. “Not that I don’t trust you too, Foniks .”

“I understand completely, Jameson,” Jon says with a nod, eyes on the map. “If they have Yahg there, then it’s dangerous just being there. We’ll be going in armored.”

Liara blinks a few times and looks around the room. “Do you think that’s wise? Wouldn’t it cause unnecessary alarm?”

Jon shrugs. “I don’t really know, but I don’t want another Rannadril.” His brows furrow as his jaw tenses in annoyance and slight anger. “I didn’t appreciate the intimidation tactic and I know the Dalatrass had a hand in that. There’s no saying where or not she’s done the same here. I won’t be insulted like that again and have my crew be caught off guard this time.”

“About time you saw reason.” Wrex huffs and crosses his arms. “I get why you didn’t wear them in the swamps because you’d be uncomfortable but you should be prepared at all times.” He shakes his head as if admonishing a child when he says, “You never have listened to me.”

Jon chuckles and nods. “It’s true. The rest of us just don’t have the stamina to carry it all day, every day.”

“Doubt it,” Solana cuts in and smiles. “You aren’t a bunch of recruits, but I get it.” She chuckles at Wrex’s brow lift and grins. “Only krogan live in armor,” she says politely though with a hint of teasing in her vocals. “Tuchanka isn’t the place for leisurely walks in robes and slippers”

Wrex and Grunt both laugh and the others seem to ease into the idea of going into an isolated place where very dangerous, apparently intelligent creatures could wreak havoc at any time.

“So,” Tali finally says, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “We go in with armor and weapons, ready for the worse.” She scans the room of people before glancing at everyone’s feet, then her own. “Can we at least wash off?”

Jon smiles and steps closer to her, laying a hand on her shoulder and the other on Jana’s next to him as he addresses the rest. “Everyone, go get your feet clean and get ready. Hopefully, the boats won’t be long.”

“And if they don’t show?” Grunt asks.

Jon rubs a hand against his stubbed chin. “Then we take the night here and try for the nearby settlement. Even if they don’t like krogan, coin always does wonders.” He frowns and says, “I just don’t want it to have to come to that.”

“Will we all be joining you?” Solana asks, motioning the large group. “I don’t know if our numbers are going to leave a good first impression that we mean peace. We aren’t going in looking for a fight and armoring up is fine, but if we want to keep this as calm as possible, it might not be prudent to - apologies - take Wrex and Grunt directly to the Tower. At least not both of them.”

“I’m not just sitting on the shore with my thumb up my mudak ,” Wrex growls and Garrus perks up, flicking his mandibles sharply in irritation.

“Watch your tone with my sister, Wrex,” he says, but Solana holds up a hand, rumbling.

“I can care for myself,” she says before looking at Jon. “Jon, I only want what’s best for your success. Perhaps Wrex may go, but all of us will only put the Tower on edge. They’re bound to keep -what’s the phrase - tighter lipped? With all of us there, they may automatically have their defenses raised.”

Jon sighs and nods. “You’re right. Wrex, you’ll be going, but Grunt will have to stay here at camp.” He scratches his shortly cropped hair, obviously in thought.

“Solana, you will stay with your Praetorians. I’ll just be taking Garrus.” He smiles weakly at Solana, saying, “I think having a small army of turians will be just as intimidating …. If you don’t mind.”

Solana nods, rumbling in understanding. “I completely agree with you. We, as turians, often find that other races tend to feel uncomfortable with our presence. Especially armored as you intend.”

Jon nods and cups his chin. “Liara, I’d like you to join me. EDI and Javik?”

“Yes, Shepard?” EDI says, tilting her head as her eyes flicker in what could either be a faltering in her magic life source or an effort to ‘blink’ to seem more organic. “It would be understandable for us to remain here because of the fears and stigma of my kind's existence and the rarity of a living prothean.”

John smiles softly and nods. “Exactly. You and Javik are unknowns in this case. I think it’ll be safer you don’t join us. The Tower of Mannovai is where Sur’Kesh’s biggest experimental studies and projects come from. I fear less what will happen if they find out what you both are and more what they’ll do once they find out.” He gives a full-body wince and closes his eyes. “This doesn’t leave this tent, but the salarians can often hyperfocus on the idea of exploration and discovery, usually overlooking everything in the way,” he says softly, quieting a moment before shaking his head. “But that’s just a precaution. Not all salarians are like that.” He looks at Jana and smiles, “I promise that we know some salarian people that are much better than the majority of their people.”

Had to be me ….

Jana nods in understanding, giving a smile in return. “I completely understand what you mean. We had the same thing back home.” She motions the open tent flap with a thumb and asks, “Will I be joining the crew that’ll be going to the Tower? So I need to know if I should wash up and get my armor ready.”

Jon nods and says, “Nihlus, Jana, Garrus, Tali, Liara, Wrex, and I will go to the Tower. The rest of you, please stay here but be ready for anything. I’m leaving Solana in charge here.”

“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Jameson says with a grin and a quick glance to Solana and she flicks a mandible, seemingly nonpulsed by his charms.

“I’ll set up a perimeter with the rest of you,” Solana says, turning to the others. “Let’s let Jon and those joining him get clean and suited up first before we prepare the camp. I want you all in armors as well.” She looks at Jon. “You never know what might happen.”

Jon nods and smiles. “Great idea. They could use to look ready for battle when the salarian boats show up,” he jokes. “Makes us look more professional that way.”

Grunt barks a laugh. “That’s not what they say about the krogan. You must be doing it wrong!”

Laughter rumbles through the crowd just before people disperse, duties in mind, and the task at hand not getting done while they stand around chatting and talking over plans. The last thing they want is to waste time once the Tower’s boats arrive getting suited up because there’s no telling how long the deal with getting the salarians onboard with the idea of letting them take the female krogan. For all Jana knows, the salarians are running some kind of experiments on her and that’s why someone thought to get Wrex involved, to find someone with enough blunt force to find her some help, even if Wrex had to swim all this way by himself, plowing down anyone in his way.

He’d get pretty damn far, I’m sure of it, but not that far to actually save the female. And how would he have gotten her back to Tuchanka alone? It’s a suicide mission all on its own.

Jana is one of the first of the camp getting ready to reach the lake to wash off as best as she can. She’s covered in mud and remnants of the Myriaepods they fought off. Even if she won’t be wearing these clothes to the Tower, she wants to have them at least somewhat washed off and drying while she’s gone.

Undressing down to her panties and wrap she’s using as a makeshift bra, Jana starts to wash her clothes and boots. The water is murky from silt constantly being disturbed by the current of the lake causing the water to softly lap at the shore, but she can already tell it’s much better than the swamp. It smells a bit like algae, but it’s just a mere hint when compared to the lingering stink of the caked-on mud she’d trampled through or the rancid scent of the Myriaepod innards that are stuck on enough that she has to rub the fabric against itself to scrape off the slime. She smells her clothes once it seems like she’s scrubbed them clean and sighs, more accepting of the lake’s scent than the bog’s she managed to get off.

“I guess I won’t be able to take this,” Tali says as she crouches beside Jana at the shore, her dirty cloak in her hands. “At least I didn’t get bug guts on it.”

Jana chuckles. “Trust me, it wasn’t easy getting them off.” She watches as Tali is careful just to get the bottom of her cloak in the water, softening the mud that’s collected there.

Trying as hard as she did to find rocks or solid ground to step on, it looks like even Tali managed to soil the bottom of her cloak. Dirtying her boots isn’t too bad because her suit is built for all kinds of environmental situations, mud being one of the least worrisome problems. If her suit could withstand the heat of Therum, then Tali’s suit can easily keep her safe from the bacteria-filled bog waters and muck.

“I wonder if I’ll get too many stares if I show up with just a shawl,” Tali says and hums as she uses her hands to pour water over her boots to clean them, letting her cloak soak for a moment.

Jana shrugs but she knows Tali probably doesn’t see it with her attention elsewhere. “You can always ask Liara for a robe. Or wear yours. It’s less likely that you’ll get questioned if they don’t actually see your whole suit.”

She knows Tali’s mulling over the possibilities when she tilts her head, hands vigorously scrubbing her cloak together. “I guess I’ll ask Liara. You’re right. Wearing just a shawl won’t cover all of my suit.” She sits back on her heels and looks at Jana. “You know, Jon says that quarians typically wear a shawl on their heads and to mask their faces, so it’s not that weird for me to wear them …. Besides the suit,” she adds with a snort.

Chuckling, Jana bumps her friend’s shoulder with her own before wringing out her clothing. She stands and says, “Once we meet some quarians, maybe you can talk with them about more of their culture and traditions.” She smiles at Tali when she raises her gaze. “I bet there are a lot of similarities between here and our universe … just like it is for humans.”

Tali’s eyes narrow in skepticism as she asks, “You say that, but look at turians. Turians where we’re from definitely don’t have wings …. And I never heard anyone mention it.”

Jana chuckles. “Maybe you’re not asking the right questions?” Snorting at Tali’s scoff and obvious eye roll, Jana pats her friend’s shoulder and starts to leave her to her cleaning. “You never know, Tali. Give yourself a chance to see something you recognize.”

She isn’t bothered in walking back to her tent in just her underwear or by people being able to see the large image on her chest that mirrors the one on Garrus’ keel. These markings, he said, mean people are important to one another and she’s okay with that.

She doesn’t feel obligated to listen to some unknown force leaving tattoos on people - which she assumes is happening to not just herself - but perhaps it’s more a physical representation to the world that yes, she and Garrus are getting close. It doesn’t have to mean romantically involved because she isn’t so sure she’d go that far, but he has become a comforting companion and someone she’s proud to know and have by her side. He wants to be at her side, no matter to what extent and she’s honored and humbled to have such loyalty even though she doesn’t feel she deserves it.

She knows that all she can do to try to feel like she’s worthy is to return that devotion as best she can.

Someone from the non-combatant crew comes to her tent and clears his throat to get her attention as she’s pulling out her armor from her pack.

“Come in,” she says, knowing that the tent doesn’t really have a flap or any sort of privacy barrier because it’s a more simplistic one just meant for a quick stay at the shore. Still, she’s thankful for the courtesy.

“Hello, Jana,” the man says, his head shaven save for a thick braid down the center and to his shoulders. He’s well built for a man who doesn’t fight, so Jana has a feeling that he’s involved with the heavier work of handling cargo in the Normandy’s hold. “Just wanted to come see if you had anything we could set by the fire to dry. I can’t promise it’ll get completely dry though …. Everyone’s got something they’d like to wash off while Jon takes you to the Tower.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” she says and balls up her pants and shirt, tossing them over to him. “Thank you ….” She pauses, unable to remember if she’d ever been introduced to him before.

“Sohier,” he says with a smile and holds up her clothes. “I’ll get these hung up quick.”

“Thanks!” she calls out as he leaves her to dress. She’s sure her clothes aren’t going to be completely dry because the entire camp is bound to have at least something to put above the fire. Still, the idea of even slightly warm clothes sounds so appealing that she thinks maybe one day she might convince the camp to do something like this whenever they’re stuck camping somewhere cold.

Once she’s finished getting her gear on, sword at her hip and shield slung over her shoulder, she heads out into the camp to catch up with Jon and whoever else will be making the trip to the Tower. She knows that the number of people will depend on how many and how big of boats the salarians send, but other than that, she doesn’t know what he’ll be deciding. She wants to be ready if he does, indeed, ask her to join him.

She finds him and the others at the shore where two boats have been brought close - but not too close as to beach themselves - and they definitely don’t look big enough to take the majority of the group of fighters. Much like the scenario Solana brought up, it looks like they’re going to have to split their number up. Solana seems to have already pulled the Praetorians, Mierin and Sidonis, away from the immediate group and stands aside along with a concealed EDI and Javik.

“I’m not letting you across without a krogan,” Wrex says gruffly, jabbing a finger towards the boats. “If those can’t carry me then I’ll walk there.”

“No submerging,” one of the salarian guards say from beneath their oddly decorated helmet that looks like a combination of a boar and fish’s head.

Jana glances at Garrus, confused and curious if that makes any sense to anyone else. She must catch his attention because he looks back at her and snorts softly, leaning down to whisper, “krogan can submerge in water and hold their breaths for very, very long times.”

Jana gives him a silent ‘oh’ in response and nods in thanks, watching him shift to stand up straight at his full height.

“If it helps, Nihlus and I can fly-”

“Absolutely not,” one of the other guards says as the four boat rowers fidget, adjusting what looks like what the scholars must be wearing, their dark green tunics’ collars tall and buttoned around their thin necks with a kind of separation at their hips where a black robe from beneath continues down to their feet.

She’s not sure, but the simpler way the tunic’s fabric designs look makes her think that these might be the acolytes or similarly lesser scholars from the Tower. That, and she doubts full-blown magisters would be out here getting tired and dirty rowing visitors to and fro. She just wonders why they won’t allow Nihlus and Garrus the chance to allow space on the two boats for more people by flying.

“I don’t …. We aren’t planning anything by offering to fly,” Garrus says with a hum of confusion and looks at Nihlus, a question in his crystal blue eyes. Nihlus simply shakes his head, apparently fully aware of the why but this not the time to challenge the salarian guards.

“No flying or you won’t be getting far,” one of the guards warns, making it obvious that everyone sees the large bow on his back.

Garrus flicks his mandibles in agitation but grows quiet when Jana lays a hand on his arm, giving him a soft smile. He deflates a bit but nods.

Jon, watching them in his peripheral, nods and turns to the salarians. “Then I’ll be deciding who will be joining me.” He cups his chin and looks around the group awaiting his orders. “Tali and Jana,” he says before grinning at Garrus. “And I wouldn’t leave behind the best archer in Alysim.”

Garrus huffs and flares a mandible. “Not if you want someone watching the skies.”

Jon nods in agreement before looking at Wrex. “Wrex, I don’t want you to lose this opportunity to be there for the krogan female, but Grunt will have to stay.” He turns to Grunt and frowns apologetically. “Sorry, my friend.”

“It’s alright. Probably boring over there anyway with all their books and studies ,” Grunt responds with a smirk at the salarians and the unarmored four fidget in their spots, looking at their four guards.

“Liara,” Jon adds with a smile. “I think you might enjoy getting to see the Tower, yeah?” When she blushes and nods, he grins. “I wouldn’t think any scholar would miss the chance. And lastly, I’d like Templar Nihlus to attend the exchange with my friends, Tali and Jana,” he says with a stern look at the guards, challenging them. “I think that’ll suffice and your boats won’t have any problem carrying my group.” He crosses his arms. “I’m sorry, but I will not settle with any less, even if you have to make multiple trips.”

“Wouldn’t have to worry if you let us fly,” Garrus grumbles under his breath, but flicks his mandibles innocently when Jon gives him a side glance that speaks volumes of how hard Jon’s trying to keep from forcing agreement on the subject.

Best to keep things light for now …. We don’t even know what we’ll see there.

The salarian rowers speak amongst themselves as the guards stare straight ahead at Jana and the others. It’s obvious that they’re nervous over the number of people going, but she knows Jon enough to guess he’s not going to budge on his decision.

She slips through the small group, tapping Jon’s shoulder and whispering in his ear when he leans down. “There was trouble when I went to find the female. It was Cerberus,” she says, trying extra careful not to be heard by the salarians even though she knows the better hearing of at least Wrex, Nihlus, and Garrus might have picked it up. Thankfully, they don’t immediately react to it.

“You sure?” he whispers back, frowning and shifting his helmet under his arm - the only one of them that hasn’t completely suited up for what she assumes is a purposeful move to seem less guarded.

And it works. At least when comparing him to the salarian guards here with their completely closed helmets and unappealing, intimidating faceplates.

Covering his mouth for a moment, it’s obvious from his expression that Jon’s thinking heavily over the new development. He flicks his gaze to the salarians before returning his attention to her. “But there’s no warning …. We haven’t heard a thing about Cerberus here. And they wouldn’t really be taking us in if they thought ….”

“It was all so sudden,” she says, trying to remember if there was anything that set the attack off. “I don’t know how they knew. Maybe someone was Indoctrinated at Sur’Kesh and passed on the information.”

“It’s completely possible that there may be some slightly corrupt scholars here. Without direct influence, they can hide the signs ….” He sighs and nods, turning back to the salarians and raising his voice. “We’re prepared to leave, but my men will be taking their weapons. I don’t doubt your Tower is well guarded, but, well ….” He smiles at the group and, in his eyes, there’s a warning to keep on their toes. “My friends feel awfully naked without their full gear,” he jokes and the crowd rumbles in all manner of verbal agreements.

One of the guards can be seen visibly sighing in frustration, but all of the fish-boar helmeted guards finally nod in their own time. Spurred into action, the other salarians climb into their boats, two rowers first, followed by two guards, and the others waiting for Jon’s crew to split up with evenly distributed weights into the two boats.

At first, Jana worries that carrying a massive krogan will topside the boat the moment Wrex steps onto the boat, but all is fine and Tali and Liara can even join him. Jana looks to Jon in surprise and they both share a nod of ‘not bad,’ sure that some kind of higher engineering is at work.

Nihlus and Garrus seem the most uncomfortable of the group on the boat, but with a few flares and resettling of their wings, they settle. The last of the salarians climb into the boats and Jameson, Grunt, and some of the others left behind help to push the boats back out into the lake.

Jana gives the horizon a long look, narrowing her eyes as she tries in vain to see any warning signs of an attack, but she sees nothing. All she’s left with is the sense of dread as the boat slowly makes its way towards the large Tower and its grounds seemingly rising straight out of the water as if itself were built by nature.

Chapter 30: The Tower of Mannovai

Chapter Text

The closer they came to the Tower, the more its intricate design became visible. Much like it did from afar, it seems almost natural in structure - as if the world itself decided to build a castle jutting from its body for future inhabitants to occupy.

There were giveaways, however, that the castle was, indeed, made by the salarian people with a very clear architectural vision in mind. The stones making up its walls are placed and stacked in just in a way that looks intentionally mismatched. There’s just something about its looks that says ‘so much care has been taken to make to look haphazard’ but Jana guesses the salarian builders just couldn’t get rid of that uncanniness that gives it away.

Plus, there’s no way a waterfall can just manifest from the top of the tower to rain down into some manner of well within the hold’s walls they can’t see yet. Jana isn’t sure if it’s magic or engineering that enables the water to vertically climb the Tower - there being no external structures to carry the water - but she doesn’t put it past the salarians to be capable of such feats.

“Nihlus,” Jon says as he gazes up at the top of the Tower. “Can you tell us anything about this place? You said you’ve been here before?”

Nihlus hums and nods, flicking his one eye to scan the Tower and its ramparts. “The Tower of Mannovai is the crowning achievement of all of Sur’Kesh’s endeavors, alongside the jointly constructed asari-salarian Conveyor at the Citadel. It’s the epicenter of all academic and technological advancements, but so much of what they do here is in secret, even to me when I came here on orders from the Council.”

“Did they build it like this?” Jana asks and Nihlus nods.

“Quite unique, isn’t it?” He flicks his mandibles. “Though not what I’d have chosen ….”

“No wonder salarians are so soft,” Wrex bellows from his boat a short distance away. “Too busy making waterfalls!”

Jana and some of the others have to hide their amusem*nt behind hands or a slight turn of their heads so their helmets block the sight of their struggles not to grin. One of the salarian guards huffs beneath his own helmet and Jana can almost feel the glare the salarians - guards and scholars alike - are giving the entire Normandy group.

“Krogan wouldn’t see an engineering achievement even if it hit them in the face. You destroy everything you touch …. And who’s ever heard of a krogan scholar ?”

The sneer is obvious in the tone of the salarian guard’s voice, but Wrex doesn’t take the bait and, instead, only gives the guard an uninterested snort. It’s Jon that speaks out, defending his friend’s people.

“I’ve actually met quite a few krogan who are more focused on advancing their race than fighting,” he says with a scolding look at the guard, like a parent admonishing a child. “But I will admit - and some of my friends too - that the Tower is quite beautiful in a natural, earthy way.”

The guard seems properly calmed as they nod and look away, the conversation over. Instead, one of the rowers huffs as they work, obviously growing tired from the two-way trip.

“The best … magisters designed … it. We wanted Alysim … to know how we can … harness the power of … nature ….”

“How does the waterfall work?” Jana asks with a raised voice as she looks up at it, the sound of it nearly drowning out their conversation the closer they come to the island.

The likely acolyte says something, but she can’t hear it - and doesn’t want to force him to repeat it with all the effort he’s putting into the rowing alongside his companions.

As they come upon the dock, there are quite a large number of bystanders being held at bay away from the water by a group of guards. Another, small group of guards stand, weapons at the ready, beside three scholars. The intellectuals must be of different levels of importance because their green and black robes’ lengths all vary from one another. High collared, two of the awaiting salarians wear a type of green - and detailed - tunic over their black robes, one at their thighs and one to their knees. The last of the group wears a full, velvet, green robe with a black shawl around their shoulders and covering their horns before wrapping back around their neck.

“Still frightened by the krogan, I see,” Wrex says with a jerk of his chin to the numerous guards. “If they get in my way ….”

“Don’t worry,” Jon interrupts, holding out a hand to calm the krogan before finally stepping off when the boat stops close enough to the side of the dock. He balls his fists and drops both arms to his sides, stiff and straight, and taps his boots together in what must be a salarian form of greeting. “I’m Templar Shepard. You received my message? And the Dalatrass’, I assume.”

“Templar,” the scholar with the floor-length, green robe greets, giving a nod as he comes forward. “We did. Just precautions, I assure. Padok Wiks,” he says, laying a hand on his chest and dipping his head, “Magister in Biological Sciences. Come, this way.” He motions with a hand towards the Tower and Jon gives the crew a look that says ‘be on your toes.’

Helping Tali out of her boat, he waits for the others - Jana gratefully taking Garrus’ offered hand despite Nihlus’ amused mandible flick - before leading the way and catching up with Padok Wiks.

“Excuse me for asking, but my men and I were curious about the waterfall,” Jon says, nodding in thanks to the guards who quickly disperse the crowd and urge them back to their studies. “We’ve never seen water pouring from a manmade structure quite like that.”

Padok Wiks simply nods as they walk into the courtyard of the castle where there’s a giant, deep well in the center of the grounds where the waterfall pours into with a loud, rumbling boom. Jana’s eyes widen in awe as she takes a peek over the edge of the well’s wall, but quickly shakes her head and takes a step back to still the wave of nausea that rushes over her at the sight of just how deep it goes. Garrus must have seen her face pale because she feels a supportive hand on her shoulder and turns to see him smile softly. Smiling in return, she lays her hand over his and gives a squeeze in thanks.

Shadowing and squaring them in is a very noticeable escort of guards, but once they come to the large, open doors of the Tower proper, they start to dwindle. Only a few remain at their side as Wiks finally turns to them with a smile.

“Well, now that it’s a bit quieter,” he says, clasping his hands behind his back and leaning on his toes as he smiles. “Yes, many are intrigued by the engineering behind it.” Pride radiates off him as he gazes up along the line of the waterfall. “Normally, we don’t reveal the inner workings of the design, but I assure you that none of it is the result of magic interference.”

“Which sounds a lot like ‘we aren’t going to tell you how it works, either,’” Garrus says with a puff of breath and flick of his mandible.

“Templar Shepard!” An armored salarian calls, raising a hand as they separate from a ground of other guards. They seem much higher-ranked because of the small, almost jewel-like paint on their armor and dark emerald cloak. Pulling off their helmet reveals a salarian whose skin and scales are a mixture of light greens and browns. “Major Kirrahe,” he greets with straight arms and a bump of his feet. “You may remember we fought together on the island of Virmire.” He puts a hand to his chest and dips his head. “If not for you, I and my men would have surely perished there.”

Jon smiles wide, eyes sparkling in recognition as he nods and offers an arm, which Kirrahe takes firmly, gripping each other’s forearms. A more human gesture, it seems.

“Yes,” Jon says as they part. “I remember you and your team. Your ‘hold the line’ speech still comes to mind on days where I myself need to boost my crew’s morale. How are you? A Major, you say? Congratulations.” When Kirrahe smiles and dips his head in thanks, Jon asks, “Are you permanently stationed here or just here for a special detail?” He hums and shakes his head. “I sure hope you aren’t here because of warnings about Wrex.”

“Not at all.” The Major shakes his head. “Completely unrelated. If I were, I’d be vouching for him.” He glances at Wrex and adds, “You certainly changed my mind of what the krogan are capable of, both at Virmire as well as what I hear of Tuchanka.” He doesn’t wait for a response that he’s probably never going to get before looking back at Jon.

“I’ve heard of the summit you and Primarch Castis held with the Dalatrass and Chieftain Wrex,” he says, shaking his head before taking a step closer to lower his voice and not attract attention. “Just so you know, I and many more of my men don’t agree with the Dalatrass’ threats. Even if the politicians don’t agree to aid in the war, know that you have the militants’ attention and support.”

“Thank you,” Jon says softly, glancing around at the guards subtly looking their way but it’s unsure with their masks whether or not they truly agree with Major Kirrahe on supporting the war effort despite the lack of the Dalatrass’ approval. “We’ll talk later, Major. For now, we must get on our way. I’d much rather we don’t have to wait too long here and lose daylight we can spend rowing back to the shore.”

Major Kirrahe nods and steps back, giving each member of the group a parting dip of his head before replacing his helmet and returning to his men.

Thankfully, Padok Wiks had continued into the castle while Kirrahe had halted Jon and the others, perhaps knowing the discussion wasn’t one meant for eavesdropping on. Either he knew the purpose of the Major’s approach and respects the secrecy of the topic or Wiks was following some kind of unspoken order to leave them because it wasn’t meant for his ears.

Padok Wiks nods with a smile as they approach where he stands at the opened doors of the Tower. With a ‘right this way,’ he leads them inside the elegantly decorated entry chamber where many students and scholars mingle about in groups chatting over various subjects. The most common topic seems to be the arrival of the newcomers and their possible purpose, making Jana think that the female krogan is a more hidden secret than she originally suspected.

They pass the main hall and down a brightly lit path branching off to the west. From there, Padok Wiks guides them through room after room of that look like classrooms with their circular shape of ascending benches surrounding a flat area with a podium and - in some cases - various items of study like potions or unknown plants and wildlife.

After countless branches and passages through unoccupied lecture halls, they reach another large chamber built like a colosseum. Unlike the other rooms, there are actually scholars and students here watching a set of instructors as they work and - apparently - teach.

A roar from below attracts the group’s attention and Jana notices everyone moving to get a glance at what’s going on, trying to see over the tops of salarian heads or through the cracks in the crowded audience.

Down below, the magisters have a yahg chained down, ‘restrained,’ and absolutely pissed as the salarian instructors answer questions about the beast, shouting out astute findings and revelations about the species. The yahg itself really does look like a troll as Nihlus had said, differing from her reality’s kind by the massive rock-like formations on its hunched back that even sprouts bits of moss and she can swear she sees a mushroom or two. Its hide isn’t red like the previous Shadow Broker in her reality and is instead a patterning of colors more suited to hiding amongst rock and stone, as if it were to become one with mountain or rocky cliff sides.

“Don’t they know how dangerous they are?” Liara asks softly, giving Jon a knowing look as she fidgets uncomfortably.

Jon nods and whispers to the group - Wiks standing aside and apparently preoccupied listening in on the lecture. “We learned from the Shadow Broker that they’re smarter than everyone thinks,” he says, specifically looking at Tali and Jana. “We managed to take care of it, but it was a hell of a fight.”

“I definitely disagree with their flippancy towards the troll,” Nihlus says with a rumble, “but remember why we’re here. The less we dwell, the sooner we reach the krogan here.”

“Turian’s right,” Wrex grunts, eyes still focused on the yahg. “Let them deal with it if it breaks loose. We’ll be long gone by then.”

Jon nods and glances back to Padok Wiks as if in the go-ahead to get them out and away from here.

Far, far, away ….

They finally come to a circular stairwell that descends around the outside wall of the large lecture hall, but it’s mostly empty of students and magisters nor many decorative babbles and tapestries. It takes a key that Padok Wiks has on person to unlock the door at the very bottom of the numerous stairs and Jana gives a slight shiver at the temperature drop this low in what has to be a sub-basem*nt or two below ground.

“You okay?” Garrus asks softly as Jon speaks with Wiks about something as the salarian magister fiddles with the door lock.

Jana smiles up at Garrus and nods. “A bit chilly this deep. We must be going into the basem*nt.”

“Or deeper,” Garrus agrees with a nod and takes a step back, letting her go first into the small doorway with a rumble.

Much like she suspected, the chamber behind the doors is dark and cold, distinctly lacking any windows or doors that could possibly let light - and its warmth - in. It only gives an even bigger feeling of ‘this place isn’t for wandering or curious eyes’ and Jana can only guess at the importance of the female krogan to these scholars.

Magisters …. Everyone here is dressed in robes obviously meant for the best that the Tower of Mannovai has to offer. Not even the salarians scattered about carrying supplies and jotting notes for others seem to be less qualified than a magister.

Curious - and shocked - eyes land on the group entering the chamber that looks like a mix between laboratory and hospital. Jana knows the salarians never would have imagined a - fully armed and armored - krogan waltzing through the Tower without there being a full-frontal attack on their hands, but here Wrex is, a bit angry with the look of the place, but nonetheless … peaceful as he stays focused on the task at hand.

This female means more than any strife he may have with where she’s being kept.

“We have the most talented minds caring for the krogan,” Padok Wiks begins as he leads them deeper into the room, but a familiar voice interrupts his next statement with a callout to the group.

“Shepard!” Mordin says, the salarians getting out of his way as a show of respect as he approaches from further ahead of the group. He raises a hand. “Expected you sooner. Still pleasant.”

Jon’s brows raise in surprise, but a smile forms on his face as he holds out his hands in greeting. “Mordin! I can’t believe it’s you.”

Nodding, Mordin comes closer, accepting the arm shake from Jon though he obviously thinks it’s unnecessary by the way he quickly urges them to follow.

Mordin’s outfit is very similar to what she’d imagine after thinking about how her reality’s outfit would look like if it were ever adapted to this realm. He wears a long, white tunic that wraps around his front and opens from his hips down the rest of its length that ends just below his knees. It creates a type of withdrawn cowl around his neck that she thinks could be pulled into a hood and his long black gloves seem fit for his intricate care of whatever experiments he may hold in this universe. He wears tight, black pants and black boots that click on the ground as he walks and a small bag strapped over his shoulder and across his chest clinks with the sounds of glass on glass with each movement.

They wait until Padok Wiks gives a goodbye wave and leaves them to Mordin before Jon asks, his voice soft so as not to be overheard, “Are you …. Were you sending Wrex the letters?”

Mordin gives a quick nod as he walks, leading the way pass exam tables, both empty as well as covered in drapes hiding different shapes and sizes of bodies. It doesn’t look good for the idea of there being any additional female krogans to take away from the stresses this world’s Eve will have to endure.

I just hope she’s stronger here than my own ….

“Where did the females come from? And they’re free of the Curse?” Wrex asks, then scoffs. “How is that possible?”

“Not completely,” Mordin says without looking back at the krogan. “Maelon’s experiments weren’t completely fruitless, though still inhumane.”

“Seems like there’s some good in all the horrors he put the krogan subjects through.” Jon frowns and glances at the bodies they pass, now looking a lot like the bulky sizes of krogan though slightly smaller. “How many survived.”

Mordin takes one of his deep, short breaths before stopping and turning to face the group. “Only one.” Another breath. “Despite efforts, toil ravaged females. Only one left. Health weak.”

Wrex frowns deeply and Jon sighs loudly, glancing Jana’s way as if for some guidance.

“It was the same. Her name was Eve.”

Mordin hums before nodding. “Apt name. Eve first female created by the Maker in human traditional belief. Suitable name for Normandy. Female refuses to speak of her original name.”

He waves to follow just a short way as they come to a large-sized krogan form sitting upright on an examination bed. She seems to be completely covered, head to toe, in a robe and over-the-head shawl very similar to the one Eve wore on Jana’s Normandy. There are slight differences, but Jana always wondered if the clothes that seemed so traditional were, in fact, made by hand by the female shaman or others like her. Only her shoes are different in that she wears a kind of sandal instead of boots, the footwear wrapping around her bare shins beneath the long, heavy robe.

“Hello,” Jon greets with a dip of his head and hand to his chest. “My name is Templar Jon Shepard, but you can call me Jon or Shepard. Whichever you prefer. We’re here to take you somewhere safe-”

“To help our people,” Wrex corrects, crossing his arms. “The salarians say you can be the key to the cure for the Genophage.”

The female stares at Wrex a moment longer before looking at Jon. “And what is your purpose? What use am I to you?”

Jon takes a step closer. “I wish to help the krogan. Wrex is my friend …. And the krogan have suffered long enough.”

Wrex snorts. “Tell the truth, Jon. You want the krogan to fight another battle.”

Jon frowns and Garrus rumbles, looking at Wrex and saying, “Not without giving something in return. This won’t be like last time. We help you cure the Curse and you fight alongside us in saving the realm. This is a battle for us all, but that doesn’t mean your condition shouldn’t be at least attempted .”

“Quite possible,” Mordin says with a sharp nod, hand to his chin.

That is, until someone barges into the chamber screaming of an attack.

“We’re under attack! Cerberus has broken through the walls!” she yells, holding up her robe as she runs through the room. “They have massive numbers!”

“Calm down, please,” Jon says, holding out his hands to her. “Did you say Cerberus? Are you sure?”

Panting, the magister nods and lets her robes drop. “We must secure this lab. It’s our only hope to protect our studies. Everyone, bar the doors!” she shouts, only for Mordin to sniff derisively.

“Not acceptable.” Mordin walks to the krogan female and holds out a hand for her to climb down with and Wrex growls under his breath at the sight but doesn’t speak. “Shepard. Must protect female through another route. Secret to most of Tower. Need your help.”

“We can’t let you leave,” a magister says, stepping in front of Jon with a stern expression. “I can’t let you-”

With that, Mordin hits the man over the head with an empty - but rather large - flask, knocking him to the ground.

“Duly noted.” Mordin looks at Jon and the others’ surprised faces and nods. “Must move.”

Jon blinks a few times before nodding. “Liara,” he starts, only to be interrupted by loud bangs ramming against the doors which the group entered from. “Damn ….

“Liara,” he says again. “Go with Mordin and the female. Use your magic to defend them. We’ll lead the way.” He turns to the others and gives them a nod as he pats his weapon and shield, leading the others into mentally preparing themselves for battle. “Let’s go. Mordin,” he says with a glance to Mordin as he helps the female krogan walk. “Lead the way to your hidden escape route.”

“No way I’m letting you take her alone,” Wrex says as he barges through the group to walk beside the female krogan, taking on her weight away from Mordin. “Get going,” he growls as he nearly begins to carry the female at his side, much to the female’s barely veiled chagrin.

Mordin leads the group to a small hatch that drops down into a room with nothing but a torch and steep structure like a mix between stairs and a ladder. They all make it and slam shut the hatch just in time as Cerberus breaks through the thick doors of the lab. Mordin nods for Nihlus to lock the hatch with a bar in the metal hinge and though Jon frowns in disagreement, he doesn’t protest.

Climbing the steep steps is slow going with everyone going either two-by-two or one-by-one depending on their collective widths in the somewhat constricting stairwell. When they reach the top, there’s thankfully a door leading out of the tall chamber instead of another hatch to climb up through. The door is stiff and takes a hard kick from Wrex to open with a bang, and what they find isn’t necessarily the sight they’d wanted to walk right into.

Major Kirrahe and his men are fighting with all their might against the Cerberus attackers that have broken through and into the main entryway which Jana and the others enter from within the shadows beneath one of the large stairs. Many more Cerberus pile in from outside in the castle grounds like ants climbing over their dead to replace any that fall.

Jon looks over the group as they draw their weapons, giving them a quick, readying nod before charging with a shout. They all follow with battle cries of their own as they attack the face of the beast breaking through into the Tower. Garrus and Nihlus can attack from the air, the former firing arrows into the fray as Nihlus swoops down to slice heads off their bodies with his dual, ebony swords.

When a head falls at Jana’s feet, she sees the horror of the arrogance of Cerberus and their baseless belief they can control the Reapers by becoming them.

The eyes of the man are black with red irises and red surrounded by black weave across his skin as if she’s seeing the fiery path of deep burns that haven’t yet peeled away from the flesh. His blood is a dark red, darker than it should be and nearly black like the truly Corrupted pawns of the Reapers and his teeth are black at the inflamed gums as he bears them even in death.

Frightened by the sight, she kicks the head aside and focuses on the battle. It was easier not to see the indoctrinated Cerberus in her universe when they were only in the sights of her gun or hidden by full helmets, but seeing the Corruption as it’s taken root is a chilling sight.

So this is how people look before they are completely decayed and changed by the Corruption.

“What’s happened to them?” Garrus shouted, kicking the helmeted head of a mage aiming for Jana with a hard jab of his foot at their unguarded neck. “They’re … Corrupted .”

“This is what’s … happened to them!” Jon shouts in between blows to the attackers.

A roar erupts from the bowels of the Tower, rattling the chandeliers hanging above. Wrex shouts out something just as the source comes charging down a hall, knocking and throwing away anything in its way. Jana has just enough time to stab the mutated dog gnawing at her buckler and kick it away before she has to run to the safety of the shadows to get out of the way of the enraged, loose yahg.

Garrus tucks his wings and drops into the air around her and whispers, “You okay?”

She nods and watches as her group does their best to guide Cerberus soldiers into the path of the raging yahg and the salarians have scattered to do the same or take into the halls to try and chase down any Cerberus that’s escaped the battle. It’s clear to everyone, though, that the Cerberus forces will soon dwindle, leaving them to fight the rampaging troll.

“Everyone!” Jon shouts over the canopy of noise. “Get to the boats!”

“Hold on,” Garrus says as he drops down beside her. “We’re on the wrong side of this fight to make it through unscathed. We’ll have to try something else.”

Her face pales at the idea of what he’s surely think - being in the air. High in the air. “But-”

“Do you trust me?” he asks as he shoulders his bow, freeing his hands.

“Of course.”

Without a doubt .

“Then let me do this.” He rumbles and takes her hand. “We could make it through if we have to, but it’ll be dangerous …. This will work.”

Taking a deep breath to prepare herself, she shoulders her shield and sheathes her sword. “Are you sure you can carry me?” she asks as she steps closer to him.

“Absolutely,” he says without hesitance, his tone saying ‘as if that’d be any kind of challenge.’

“Hold onto me,” he says as he half-kneels for her and she wraps her arms around his neck.

His hands hover a moment over her in what must be him calculating how best to hold her, but they settle at her ribs, picking her up as he stands. Though she’s used to his height and is fully aware that she’d need to be lifted to be level with him, she can’t help her body’s reaction to knowing what’s to come. She immediately wraps her legs around his waist as best as she can and she can feel him stumble a bit, trying to hide a slight, surprised trill.

“Is this okay?” she whispers and he nods, leading to her clenching her eyes shut in anticipation.

“Just hold on,” he answers, his voice slightly different as she links her fingers into the gaps of his armor and shifts to squeeze her hold tighter.

At any other time, in any other circ*mstance, she’d be appalled at - quite literally - sexually assaulting her friend and Atheling of Palaven , but the situation and her fear overshadow the thought.

Right now, she doesn’t even connect the dots.

She isn’t ready for the takeoff but knows full well she’ll in the air once she feels him lower slightly, bending his knees, and kicking off the ground. The sheer force of his wings can be felt against her body and his entire body shifts beneath his armor in ways to move those massive limbs and he grips her firmly, never faltering as she feels him level out, perhaps swooping over the battle.

Curiosity winning over self-preservation, she glances down to see the ground and battle below whip past them just beyond reach. She quickly gasps and snaps her eyes shut again, cursing inwardly at the writhing feeling in her stomach at the sight. He must feel the difference in her, though, because he thrums softly, the action felt more than heard through their touch, and his hands grip her tighter.

Hearing the sound and feeling the sensation in his body when his wings flap, she feels him shift to an upright position. His wings beat in the air as he speaks, concern in his voice.

“What do we do, Jon?” He shouts down. “There aren’t enough boats for us all.”

Jana finally forces an eye open as she glances at the situation. They’ve made it out of the Tower and the majority of the castle grounds, but there’s still a small battle going on with some of their group as Jon tries to come to a solution.

“You and Nihlus will carry someone each. Liara will stay to protect the female’s boat. Along with Mordin. Tali,” he says, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Go with Nihlus, okay? He’ll keep you safe,” he adds with a glance towards Nihlus where he defends the small ground they’ve secured.

“Oh, great,” Jana whispers against Garrus.

Garrus hums and shifts his hold so he can rub a hand on her back. “Think you can make it that far?”

Jana laughs weakly. “I think I have a tight enough grip on you. You okay?”

Garrus huffs and she can smell his smokey, woodland scent on his cowl’s armor, helping to calm her. “I’m perfectly ‘okay.’ We’ll get through this. It’s only a short ways. Promise.”

She grumbles against him, but nods. Closing her eyes again as Garrus speaks to the group.

“Jana and I can fly across. Nihlus can either take Tali or defend the boats should Cerberus decide to chase us,” he says, humming as he chuckles. “My hands are otherwise occupied and Tali with her crossbow would really help.”

“Good idea,” Jon agrees and she can hear everyone shuffling to the boats. “Wrex on one boat and the female on the other. Liara and Mordin with the female and the rest of us with Wrex. Nihlus? Take to the skies and attack any boats breaking off to follow us.” Jana can hear his boots on the dock, then a quiet splash as he hops onto the boat. “Let’s go before anyone notices.”

As if on cue, they can hear the yahg roar from the castle grounds and they don’t hesitate to start moving. Jana gives the boats a glance as Garrus pauses a moment above them and she sees Jon and Wrex rowing as Liara and Mordin take care of the second boat. In the sky beside them, Nihlus waits in place, flapping his wings to stay in the sky as he looks at Garrus in question.

Garrus rumbles as he passing the one-eyed turian, beating his wings hard to help stir the waters around Jon’s boat as Nihlus does the same for the other boat. With fewer people, it seems to go faster, but still too long for Jana to be comfortable and she starts to knead Garrus’ armor, panting in growing panic.

“It’s okay,” Garrus says softly, touching her head with a hand. “I got you. I got you.”

Chapter 31: At Sea

Chapter Text

As the Normandy sails the Tartarus Ocean on her way to Tuchanka, they are joined by a turian ship named the Perseverantia. The ship is absolutely massive, easily dwarfing the Normandy as they sail side by side, but it’s clear that Primarch Castis intended for the Perseverantia to be an escort to Tuchanka and an ally through whatever they may face after Wrex warned that Tuchanka had reported a Corrupt presence in the far, less populated reaches.

On Jana’s many nights watching the seas splash against the Normandy’s hull, she now has the chance to see how a turian ship functions, intrigued by the way the crew use their wings to tend to the sails or carry on their daily duties.

Surprisingly - and somewhat amusingly - enough, the turian crew even flies the short distance between ships and helps to ease some of the toils of the Normandy’s undersized crew. While she knows the Normandy can get along without the help, she’s sure that the crew’s thankful for the extra help while they’re all still in a place where the Normandy’s running at half capacity thanks to the hurry in which she had to escape Terra.

Their trips to the Citadel earn them a handful of crew each time, but with how tough things are now, Jana’s sure that getting a full crew of the King’s sailors may take them longer than the time they have. At the rate they’re gaining more crew, the Normandy will have to be making more trips to the Citadel than Jana thinks they can afford.

“Thought I might find you up here.” Garrus’ voice is the only giveaway to his approach thanks to his bare feet being so quiet, but she’s grown used to people walking up on her as she watches the ships - especially during the day as it is now.

“Hey,” she says, smiling when he stands next to her to look out at the Perseverantia. “What’re you up to?”

“Oh.” He hums and rubs his neck, looking at the turian crew at work on the ship far from the Normandy so as to keep the smaller ship from being tossed about by its wake. “I was just thinking …. I’m going to go see Mordin, see how he’s been.” He huffs and smiles weakly, mandibles flicking a few times. “Do you want to go with me?”

Jana smiles at his nerves that still haven’t quite faded between them. She doesn’t know if she ever wants those little things about him to disappear as the time passes because they just feel so freeing - so youthful - and she feels happier just seeing the innocence in the gesture when compared to their lives right now. With all the bad in the world, she doesn’t ever want to rid herself of the warmth she feels when she sees him, or the fluttering sensation in her belly when he amuses her with his awkwardness or light-hearted jokes.

“You know,” she says, trying to play it off as if she’s truly considering. “I do need some more ginger. Chloe is helping Mordin and Karin tend to Eve, right?”

Garrus flares a mandible in a more confident smile as he nods. “Yeah. They’re all doing their best to see that she’s comfortable and healing. I think your words to Jon have made him extra cautious.”

Jana nods and pushes off the railing of the deck, heading towards the stairs that’ll descend deeper into the Normandy. “I hope it helps. I never really talked to Mordin enough about it to understand what exactly curing it entailed back in my universe. Maybe the Genophage here is more understood and Mordin has a better grasp on the Cure? It’s hard to tell with him, but he seemed confident enough to me about it in Sur’Kesh but, admittedly, I haven’t spoken much to him. Not more than an introduction.”

Garrus chuckles. “I bet the fact that you’re from another realm would get you an earful and then some of questions.”

“Better to have him focused on this, then,” Jana agrees with a slight chuckle. “I know he’s an expert at multitasking, but I’d be the one throwing in the towel.”

“That means surrendering, right?” Garrus asks and, once she nods, he grins with both mandibles flaring. “He’s not that bad.”

“You should’ve been around my ship when someone caught scale itch. No one came out of that one unscathed,” she says with a short laugh and though Garrus probably doesn’t completely understand the situation, he laughs too.

So maybe he does ….

Leaning down, Garrus curls a wing around her slightly and whispers conspiratorially. “He gave Jon a good talking to about Tali at their union ceremony. Didn’t even wait ….”

Jana snorts and thanks to her lucky stars that Mordin at least waited for privacy before giving her ‘the talk’ as if she’d never looked up Fornax or paid any attention in xenobiology back in school. As embarrassing as it was, she can only guess how absolutely mortifying it was being told all about it during Jon and Tali’s wedding. At least, on Jana’s Normandy, the information was hidden within an extensive packet on xenoscience and interspecies sex ed so that her relationship wasn’t completely plastered all over her crew’s extranet mail, so she can’t even imagine what not only Jon - but his crew - endured at the hands of the over-eager Mordin Solus.

“Good grief,” Jana says softly, but smiles. “At least Jon took it in stride?”

Garrus rumbles in amusem*nt, nodding once. “He was too ecstatic to pay attention. Tali probably wanted to throttle Mordin, but luckily there were no weapons at the ceremony.”

Jana laughs and he shares in a chuckle with her as they walk across the deck towards the cabin that Doctor Chakwas has claimed for her work and where Eve is also being tended to.

Jon is leaving as they arrive. He waves goodbye to Eve before turning to Jana and Garrus. “Come to see our guest?” he asks with a smile. “She’s a very interesting person. I enjoyed our conversation.”

“That and checking up on Mordin,” Garrus responds with a hum, rubbing his neck. “I … wanted to know how the Cure is coming along because ….”

Jon nods and puts a hand on Garrus’ shoulder. “Completely understand, my friend. I think it’ll be good for you to come check up on it. Wrex has been less than helpful with his pacing and groaning, but it’ll be good for someone else depending on this to come see how things are going. Mordin can lose the main goal behind his experiments and actions.”

“It’s not usual for him to personalize the situation,” Jana agrees with a slight nod. “He was the same back home.”

Jon smiles and hums in agreement as he leaves them, giving Garrus’ shoulder a hard pat and Jana’s own shoulder a squeeze in passing.

The medical suite is bustling with Mordin, Chakwas, and Chloe in constant motion, tending to Eve and all manner of tasks Jana doesn’t immediately recognize. Doctor Chakwas herself seems to be focused on making Eve comfortable and treating her immediate concerns, Chloe helping where she can with her healing remedies and treatments. At the moment, she’s at a large table, mixing ingredients with a mortar and pestle.

“Ah, Garrus,” Mordin greets from his books and large scroll spread out among another table that looks originally like an exam bed where he’s apparently been jotting down his notes and observations. “Assumed would come. Here to share findings?”

Garrus huffs weakling and nods. “Yeah …. Didn’t want to rush you, though.”

“Not a problem.” Mordin stands and dusts off his tunic. “Been recording. Would appreciate the moment.” He waves Garrus and Jana over. “Don’t believe we met,” he says to Jana with a quick nod. “Yes.” He takes a short inhale before blinking. “Jon spoke of differing realms. Fascinating. Would love to study at another time. Cure more important.”

“Of course,” Jana agrees with a smile. “I can answer whatever questions you may have when you’re taking a break, of course, but helping Eve is top priority for now.”

“Indeed.”

“You never really spoke about the Curse when you were last on the Normandy,” Garrus says, changing the subject back to the matter at hand. “What can you tell us about it?”

Mordin taps his chin with a finger before nodding once. “Genophage a curse driven by death,” he answers cryptically. “Aware of alchemic processes?”

Jana shakes her head, not sure what is real and what’s fantasy from the vids in her reality, but Garrus answers for them both when he says, “I just know it’s the science of turning something into something else. Like steel into gold. Isn’t that the ultimate goal?”

Mordin hums and waves that answer off as if the idea is very trivial in the grand scheme of things. “Already accomplished. Not a challenge.” He takes another quick, but deep breath. “Pure crystals of energy needed to inflict and strengthen Curse. Prism fueled by death. Curse causes death. Inflicts irreparable damage to organs, crystallizes. Exact ritual secret and carried to the grave by initial casters.”

“So …. You’re using alchemy to cure it?” Garrus frowns, rumbling in confusion and Jana crosses her arms.

“Unknown.” Mordin cups his chin. “Maelon’s experiments in transmuting tainted, destroyed tissue into pure.” He hums and turns to his books. “Unsure of result, of final goal. What is the cure?” he asks himself, seemingly lost in thought once more. “Must return to studies. Much to do.”

“Keep at it, Mordin.” Garrus hums and nods in goodbye before turning to Jana. “I need to pass this on to my father. He’ll want to know so maybe someone on the Perseverantia can possibly come up with something Mordin hasn’t thought of.” He sighs, mandibles drooping. “I doubt it, but my father would appreciate being kept in the loop even now.”

Jana nods and glances at Eve. “I’d like to talk to Eve if that’s okay with you. We’ll catch up later?”

“Sure,” Garrus says with a smile.

Jana watches him leave before making her way to Eve, she dips her head in greeting and smiles at the veiled krogan female, hoping to warm the air between them. “Hi. My name is Jana. I … uh, thought maybe you could use some company?”

“Many have come to me for various things,” Eve says slowly, but shifts to stand before Jana despite Karin’s quick intake and mouthing a silent protest. “I won’t leave the bedside, Doctor.” Eve glances back at her before receiving a nod in acceptance, Doctor Chakwas probably thinking about how hard-headed krogan can be when their minds are set on something. “This is only to speak with Jana.”

Jana smiles at the Doctor and nods, silently assuring her that she doesn’t mean to drag Eve away from her care. “I was just curious about some things. I … didn’t really get the chance where I’m from to speak to a female krogan.” She turns to Eve and holds up a hand. “I promise not to push on anything that you don’t want to talk about.”

“Perhaps we can share in our tales,” Eve says with a tilt of her head. “You are different. Jon explained you’re far from your home realm, but he left the specifics for you to tell. He seems to care greatly for your and other’s privacy and wellbeing. It is odd not to see someone automatically treating this situation - and myself - as immediate leverage. Even the turian royalty that have come to speak to Mordin treat me with respect, even if they are unsure what to speak to me about.”

Jana chuckles nervously, saying, “I think they don’t want to cause any incidents. Wrex … seems pretty territorial of you.”

“Males,” Eve scoffs with a wave of her hand. “Wrex is just posturing. I, on the other hand, wouldn’t turn away an inquisitive mind.” She hums and tilts her head again as her deeply shadowed, amber eyes look over Jana’s form. “You are different. Even if Jon hadn’t spoken of your alternate beginnings, there is something in your aura.” She lets out a long breath, calming and seemingly full of understanding as she gives a slight nod. “You have felt much pain in your short life.”

Jana swallows and touches the ring beneath her shirt. “Yeah, you can say that ….”

“There was much loss in your realm,” Eve continues. “Many lives were lost to the Reapers even before you began to fight.”

“Yeah,” Jana says, wondering how Eve can read so much from just looking at Jana. Surely, Jon didn’t say as much when he spoke of her. It just isn’t like him.

“Eve, can I ask you something?”

“Of, course,” Eve nods and hums deep in her throat as if encouraging Jana to speak all her mind’s thoughts.

“How do you know so much about me just by looking at me?” Jana asks, looking down at herself before stopping at her upturned hands before closing them. “Is it really that obvious?”

“No,” Eve answers with a slight shake of her head that makes the golden chains of her veil glisten in the torches’ light. “I have seen many who carry sadness and pain. As a Wamah of the female tribe, I was the one to see to extensive deaths.” She glances away, pupils dilating a few times as if she’s in thought.

“I tried to become a mother,” she begins after a long, silent pause. “But my womb is barren like so many, my eggs inutile. I thought my existence was worthless …. I tried to walk into the neverending expanses of the Tuchankan desert, but … something called to me.” Eve taps a finger on Jana’s hand above her chest. “I heard voices of the lost …. They called me to a greater purpose than death.”

“Is that why you became a Wamah?” When Eve nods, Jana bites her lip. “And what became of it? How did you become one?”

“Through many hardships. Wamah -Shamen - have Rites of our own to surpass and they were the most difficult I’d ever had to face.” She hums and lays a hand on her chest. “In a Rite of Life, I was meant to find water in the land as desolate as my own body.

“I traveled far and deep into the rocky outcroppings of the land around my tribe’s camp, but there was nothing and I was running out of water in my own flask. Even as a krogan, I was growing thirsty, but that was only the first of my trials.” Shifting, Eve moves to lay a hand on her bed, running a palm along the smooth furs. “I fell when the rocks beneath my feet collapsed and I was trapped within the very stone I was searching.

“No one could hear my cries as no other krogan taking the Rite chose where I chose to search for water. I was lost, in the dark and surely going to die, but then I saw something.” Eve draws her hands to the collar of her robes and retrieves a long leather strip around her neck until Jana can see a small, vibrant crystal secured by leather wrapped and knotted around its base.

“I dug towards a flicker of light in the darkness until I found this,” she says holding it up so that the light plays within it, reflecting rainbows of color around her and Jana. “And when I pulled it from the rock, water began to flow. Though it was only a trickle, I had found the magic of all life. Nothing can exist without water and even as small as the flow was, it sustained me long enough that I could dig my way out of my prison.

“I feel like I climbed out of a symbolic tomb surrounding myself, keeping me from seeing a true purpose and a way to fulfill myself and tend to my people even if I couldn’t be a part of growing our numbers.” Eve watches the crystal a moment before tucking it back beneath her robes.

Jana smiles and lays a hand on Eve’s arm. “You help your people in a different way. I’m sure the krogan wouldn’t be nearly as successful as a unified people without Wamah like you to guide them.” She huffs and tilts her head. “Wrex is good for one thing, and it’s making sense of life and seeing that krogan aren’t all just fight and buster.”

Eve actually chuckles at that as she nods. “Wrex is many things, but a flawed leader is not one of them. He will do remarkable things for the krogan.”

“Eve?” Jana bites her lip in hesitation before asking, “Do you mind if I ask how you got involved with Maelon and his experiments?”

“The salarian came to us promising a cure,” Eve began, shifting to sit back down on the bed and pulls her legs up to her chest. “I am meant to serve my people and what better way than to be a part of curing the Curse that plagued my people’s very future?

“He gathered us in an old temple and the clan Weyrloc even began to kidnap krogan from other clans, taking them by force when they were alone scouting, hunting, or harvesting food away from the safety of others. I was luckily not one of those souls taken from my home. I came of my own free will and a hope that our people could be saved,” she says, then hums as her eyes close slowly and she seems to think over the past.

“So many of my sisters were lost to Maelon’s search for a ‘cure’ but I held onto my faith.” Eve lays a hand on her chest where her crystal must be hidden beneath her robes. “Hope is all we had and it was hope that led me through the pain. That still gives me the strength to endure the continuing pain.”

Jana frowns. “You’re in pain?” When Eve gives a slight nod, Jana rubs her head. “Damn …. I had no idea. Is nothing helping now that your in Mordin’s, Chloe’s, and Karin’s hands?”

Eve nods softly. “Yes. They are doing their best and I am as comfortable as I can be while Doctor Solus tries to determine exactly what the other salarian did to us. He is putting in long hours into deciphering the scrolls,” she says, taking a deep breath as she glances Mordin’s way, “but I understand that, if anyone can cure us, it’s him.”

Jana smiles and nods. “Absolutely,” she says as she touches Eve’s arm lightly to get her attention. “Anything you need, you let any one of us know. This ship’s behind you every step of the way. Jon wasn’t kidding when he said we want to help the krogan because you have suffered enough.”

“Thank you, Jana. And may you find your light in your darkness,” Eve says as Jana turns to leave, giving a nod in response to Jana’s wave of her hand.

Seeking Garrus out, she finds him on the top deck, standing beside Jon and Nihlus while they speak to his father.

Castis stands tall and intimidating in a dark blue and black tunic and shoulder cape. His arm’s outstretched and his large bird, Indignitus, perches on his forearm, picking at a chunk of meat with his frighteningly large beak. His feathers look as if they’ve been recently dyed a rich cobalt and stands out against the vivid white of Castis’ plates. Jana still can’t get over how massive Indignitus is compared to the regular birds she’s seen on vids back home or even imagined being used by regular falconers, but it somehow suits the Primarch, like a visual representation and extension of his own power and presence.

“Ah, Jana,” Jon greets, holding a hand out for her to join them. “We were just discussing an issue the Primarch needs us to look into.”

“Templar,” Garrus’ father interrupts with a low hum as his eyes flick over the deck. “As I said, this is of a … sensitive nature and not something that should be spoken aboard the Normandy for reasons you’ll soon understand once you speak to General Victus. You’ll be safer discussing this aboard the Perseverantia where unintended eavesdropping won’t be an issue.” He breathes deeply, his chest expanding with a strong intake of breath. “I cannot express the need for this to be kept secret, Jon. The Perseverantia will be better suited for silence. Not that I don’t trust your crew but …. Well, no, I don’t trust them with overhearing this.”

Jon chews his lip at that and the implied seriousness of the situation. “I understand, Primarch.” He takes a deep breath of his own, crossing his arms as he looks towards the large turian vessel in whats shadow the Normandy sails under. “We’ll have to get over there somehow. We aren’t due to arrive at Tuchanka for a time.”

Garrus chuckles and looks at Nihlus before turning to Jon. “Looks like you’ll be needing some help to cross from ship to ship,” he says, paying extra attention to opening and flicking his wings. Smiling with flared mandibles, he glances at Jana and lays a hand on her elbow. “If you want, I can stay with you here if you don’t want to fly again.”

Jana smiles back and shifts her arm to grip his hand with hers for a second before releasing. “I think you should be there. Your dad makes it sound important. I … will try to see if I can make it across with you …. If you’d be willing, of course.”

“Absolutely,” Garrus responds with a warm rumble, nodding.

Jon sighs. “I hate being carried like a damsel, but there’s no other way to get across. There’s no point taking a raft with the waves as strong as they are between the two of them.”

Nihlus chuckles and shrugs. “I’ll do my best not to make you feel so helpless, but it’s not an easy thing with you lacking wings and being as short as a fledgling.”

Jon snorts as Garrus and Nihlus chuckle, taking it in stride as he crosses his arms. “Yeah, yeah …. Let’s just get over there and see what the General has to say.”

The Primarch gives them a nod in parting before walking away from them, lifting his arm to let Indignitus take flight and soar above the two ships. With that, Nihlus and Garrus look to their human counterparts with various smiles and sounds of amusem*nt.

“Damn not having wings,” Jon huffs as he scuffs his dark brown boots on the deck before stepping up to Nihlus, waiting for the tall turian to crouch down to his level.

Jana smiles at how Jon has to wrap his arms around Nihlus’ neck, standing against Nihlus’ side as he wraps an arm around Jon’s waist. Jon hooks a leg around Nihlus’ spur and gives the turian a glare even though it’s obvious they’re both fighting back a laugh.

“We don’t speak of this,” Jon says as he helps scoot along with Nihlus across the short distance between themselves and the railing. “We need to come up with a better way,” he grumbles but smiles at Jana as she moves to take a long look over the Normandy’s railing. “Don’t worry. You’re safe with Garrus.”

Jana huffs nervously, not doubting Garrus, but the fear is still there. One long flight before didn’t help her anxiety much, though it proved that Garrus wouldn’t let her go and can easily carry her weight. That helps with the confidence in not falling, but not completely.

Taking a deep breath, she sighs and turns to Garrus. “Okay, let’s do this.”

Flaring his mandibles, Garrus leans down and scoops her up, an arm around her back and the other under her knees. She yelps at the surprise of the move and quickly wraps her arms around his neck, but the sound dies in her throat as he steps on the railing with a foot. She mumbles a few curses as she clenches her eyes shut and feels him jump up and off the Normandy. His wings are loud as they sweep through the air, effortlessly carrying them across the distance in a thankfully quick flight.

Jana swears she can count the seconds tick by as they fly, feeling as if it’s becoming an eternity full of anxiety.

“You can open your eyes now,” Garrus says softly, his voice warm and rumbling, vibrating in his chest she’s pressed up against.

Smiling at the sensation, Jana gratefully opens her eyes and blinks at the sunlight shining off of the stark white sails of the Perseverantia. Garrus lets her down to set her feet on the solidity of the wooden deck and she releases a sigh of relief, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. For some reason, the ship smells differently from the Normandy and she can’t quite place the scent, but it isn’t an unpleasant one.

It just doesn’t smell like … home. Maybe I’m just so used to the lingerings smells of Harak’s cooking when compared to the much spicer foods that it seems turians are used to.

“What’d you think? As bad as before?” Garrus asks with a chuckle and she smiles at him.

“Yeah, a bit better. It definitely wasn’t as far too,” she says with a bump of her shoulder against his side. “Thanks for the ride.”

His mandibles flare at her joke and he nods. “Anytime …. Now, let’s catch up with Jon and Nihlus and find the General.”

“Do you know the General here?” she asks as they look around the deck full of the large forms of turians as they tend to the sails and workings of the ship, their wings often tucked against their backs to stay out of the way of their work. She’s noticed a few flicking and holding their wings out as they work in order to keep their sensitive limbs out of the way of the moving parts of the ropes attached to them.

Humming, Garrus shakes his head. “No,” he answers and points towards Jon and Nihlus waiting across the deck at the foot of the stairs leading up to the helm. “But I’ve heard of his reputation.”

“Bad?” She walks by his side as they make their way through the busy crowd of the crew.

“Not at all.” Garrus flicks a mandible and huffs in amusem*nt. “He’s actually a lot like my dad. My grandfather didn’t like him before he became a General because he ‘plays loose with the rules,’ but he doesn’t ignore rules out of insubordination, but out of instinct. He’s an innovator in battle and his strategies aren’t always orthodox, but they work.” He chuckles. “My father respects him and that’s enough for me. I think that’s why he ordered the Perseverantia to join us, because of how well he trusts General Victus.”

Jana remembers the stories she heard of Victus in her time before he became Primarch and she respected the man, but it was hard for her to make a connection with him outside of profession because of all the memories he unintentionally brought up when she looked at him. Garrus would’ve liked Victus for his ability to adjust strategy according to various situations, not just blindly follow orders. She could see Garrus in the Primarch back home and it scared her, so she tended to avoid the man when it didn’t concern the war - and even then, she only spoke to direct questions or concerns, never striking up a conversation about his people even from a broader and completely professional perspective.

Jon nods as they meet him and Nihlus before leading the way up the stairs to the helm. He gently nudges the turian crew aside with apologizes and other decencies as they make their way towards a dark bronze turian with cream colony paints sweeping across the expanses of his face and fringes. He wears a long, slate-colored jacket with a silver pin that looks like a sword slicing through a ring on the right side of his chest. With hands behind his back, he gives orders to men of his crew as his amber eyes overlook the horizon.

“General Victus?” Jon says as they come closer, earning the man’s attention. “Templar Jon Shepard,” he adds with a professional, turian-style greeting. “The Primarch said you’d have something important to speak with us about.”

Waving off any lingering crew not needed to tend to the helm, General Victus turns to them and gives a slight nod before looking over the four of them. “Atheling,” he says with a dignified dip of his head in respect before glancing at Jon. “I recognize Templar Kryik but not your female companion ….”

“Her name is Captain Jana Shepard,” Jon explains, perhaps understanding what the General is thinking. “I trust them with what has to be said. Atheling Garrus can vouch for them if need be.”

Garrus nods, but the Primarch simply hums, not asking Garrus for a second reassurance. Instead, he takes a deep breath and motions them to move away from the crew and towards the railing at the rear of the Helms Deck and overall stern of the ship. When he seems satisfied with their privacy he begins to explain.

“The Primarch didn’t want this spoken about on the Normandy because it concerns a mission where I’ve sent a small vessel to Tuchanka to seek out something that could turn the tide of the alliance he’s trying to build with the krogan. I recently lost contact with them, and normally, that wouldn’t be of any concern as they could be in a situation where sending a messenger falcon could gain unwanted attention. However, I am concerned at the fact that their last message spoke of a Reaper being sighted in Tuchanka.”

Jon hums and nods. “Yes, Wrex spoke of the rumors. I don’t think anyone has since then contacted him about it since he left, but, then again, I don’t think they’d have a bird who’d know where to fly outside of Tuchanka. Not like many races would help them if there were a Reaper attacking their people if they happened to intercept the message either.”

“Indeed,” Victus agrees, clasping his hands behind his back once more. “I know the Commander of the small company there and he wouldn’t go silent without reason. It’s been too long for any reasonable answer. We need you to take the Normandy and sail to the shore of Tuchanka, seeking out my men, leaving the Perseverantia to catch up in time. You’ll have us when you do, in fact, need allies to fight the supposed Reaper, but the Normandy has stealth on its side. I’m counting on that to get you close so a group of your men can break off and seek out my men deeper into Tuchanka.”

“You certainly picked the right ship for the job,” Garrus says with a rumble and nods. “The Perseverantia would attract too much attention if it joined us at arriving on the shore …. And it’d definitely draw attention to any ship sailing alongside it. And it’s slower than your men need.”

General Victus nods and looks at Jon. “Do we have an agreement?”

“We’ll do what we can to find a Rift to ride to Tuchanka. We’ll find your men, General.”

Chapter 32: Lieutenant Tarquin Victus

Chapter Text

Wrex is understandably suspicious when Jon calls for the Normandy’s three skiffs to be dropped into the sea near the Tuchankan shore while the Normandy continues onward to dock at the small settlement of Gembat. Thankfully for Jon though, Grunt seems preoccupied with dropping anchor and getting ashore enough not to either notice or care, and Wrex is quickly subdued and distracted when Mordin comes calling for ‘samples.’

Jana can only guess what that request entails for Wrex, but she’s grateful that they won’t have to try to explain that they’re on a secret mission for a turian General on krogan soil. She doesn’t really know if Mordin just so happens to know when to distract Wrex for the mission’s sake and she wouldn’t put it past the cunning salarian to just sense when he’s needed, but she doesn’t look a gift horse in the mouth by asking. Not when they’re in a hurry to drop the boats and get rowing towards the shore before Wrex can come looking for answers once more.

When they seem far enough away from the Normandy so as not to be overheard, Jon grows serious and clears his throat to get the occupants of the skiffs’ attention.

“You may be wondering why we aren’t traveling in a caravan like usual,” he says to the fully armored crew, bringing to light the fact that he refused to allow any noncombatant crew to join them despite the ease the routine would bring in carrying supplies or maintaining a camp. “This mission comes down straight from the Primarch himself.” Letting that sink in for a moment, Jon crosses his arms and stares out at the port city they’re being extra careful to avoid the attention of.

“The General sent a small squad in to do something that the krogan can’t catch wind of,” Jon continues. “But he didn’t explain. He just said that we’ll need to avoid any krogan attention and follow the tracks of his team. They’ve gone silent, but not without sending word of a Reaper nearby. He’s worried that something might have happened to them.”

Garrus nods and hums. “I don’t know anything more than that myself, but my father and Victus were serious enough that makes me think this could seriously affect our relations with the krogan if whatever it is they’re trying to get is found out. So this remains between us,” he says, giving everyone on the boats a hard look. “I trust you all with this, but if you’d rather be left out ….”

“You are free to return to the Normandy and wait for us to return,” Jon adds with a nod at Garrus. “There’s no ill towards anyone who doesn’t want that responsibility.”

“Well,” Jameson huffs with a reassuring grin. “Now I have to go. Just to find out what’s going on if nothing else.”

“You have me no matter what, Jon.” Liara gives him a knowing look. “You know you can trust me.”

Jana chews the inside of her cheek as she looks Liara over, wondering if the asari managed to take down the Shadow Broker in this reality. The tongue-in-cheek answer to keeping secrets would make sense if she were an information broker of any kind like back home, but it’s definitely worth wondering if this Liara made it further in a vendetta unlike Jana’s Liara.

“I’m with you all the way,” Tali says softly, her eyes showing her smile, and she turns to Jana. “Right?”

Jana nods and looks to Jon. “Wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

“And, of course, you have the Praetorians and me,” Solana adds with a rumble, and the two guards nod and thrum their agreement. “I wouldn’t leave this kind of thing in anyone’s hands and not be right there all the way.”

When Jon looks to Nihlus, the turian chuckles. “Lead the way.”

Even EDI has something to say when she offers a slightly off-kilter - and perhaps not completely understood - smile and says, “It would be beneficial to us all to see to such a delicate situation. And I would appreciate the chance to test this body’s capabilities in a fight alongside everyone.”

Javik merely harrumphed when eyes turned to him and Jana thought it fitting for the prothean. Who would he tell? The krogan he has no allegiance to? What would it gain him but to see the ‘primitives bicker’ when he, above all, wanted nothing more than to fight the Reapers. Even he could see that pitting the krogan and turians against each other would only worsen the chances of survival for everyone.

Jana doesn’t want to believe it but, maybe - just maybe - Javik might also be willing to help thanks to Liara’s influence. God save the poor asari if, even after all this work she’s putting into working with Javik, nothing seems to have changed.

The period of travel to the shore where they then pulled the skiffs onto the rocky bank is quiet as everyone seems to lose themselves in their own thoughts. At intervals, the rowing duties are exchanged so that everyone can maintain the majority of their strength.

Arrival on the shore brought them face-to-face with a large ravine with steep walls. Jon, having read some of the correspondence between the General and his men and thus knowing the path they should take, leads them into the channel. Occasionally, the turians in their group would look to the sides of the ravine and mention the rare outcroppings where a better view could be had but it’s more talk than actual strategy because it quickly becomes clear that there won’t be any kind of visual obstacles in this barren, desert landscape of Tuchanka.

Jana can’t say it looks like Menae’s own surroundings, though, because the turian territory at least had plantlife accustomed to the heat and dryness. Life could be seen in the shadows and cool darkness of night, but here, the only movement was the mirage in the distance. The only sign of what could have been life lies in the dead and shriveled cactus-like trees and it’s a sobering, disheartening feeling to think that this could’ve - long ago - been a flourishing land just like that which the turians call home.

Did the krogan do something to their land? Did they damage it like they did back home?

From the view on a map, Tuchanka and Palaven are latitudinally parallel and separated by a small section of the Nemean Ocean. While it’s no wonder how hard the krogan Rebellions could have hit Palaven, it’s also an interesting perspective of the vast differences in landscapes.

Perhaps just as - but also not so - different as the people who inhabit each nation.

It takes close to two long days in the blistering sun before they start to see signs of some kind of life in the valley, but it’s not as hopeful as they’d have wanted. First, they find the remains of a recently extinguished fire where the turian squad must have made camp for a night. It’s hard to tell whether or not they’ve closed the gap from just the fire remains, but soon, they start to come across bodies, left to bake in the sun in a very uncharacteristic way according to Garrus and the other turians of the group.

“Normally,” he says, “We like to give our people a funeral by fire … but they aren’t even lied up like they were interrupted or anything. They were just … left to rot.”

Unease fills the group as Jon grows quiet and solemn. He gives Garrus a long look before taking a deep breath.

“The dirt’s too hard here and we don’t have the time, but the least we can do is lay them on their backs, grouped together,” Jon instructs, pointing to a rare shadow created by a large rock outcropping jutting from the ravine’s right wall. “Let’s get them moved quickly before whatever attacked them comes back.”

Pulling bodies twice her size isn’t easy, but Jana feels propelled to give these soldiers some peace in the shade. The body she’s dragging is helmeted, so she doesn’t know their gender, but it’s obvious from the gash in the space of their armor at their waist that they didn’t just fall victim to the elements. The blood has long since dried in the sun and Jana hopes they didn’t suffer for very long before giving in to their massive wound.

Just as she gets them in line with the others the group has already pulled into the shadow, she hears Jameson call out, attracting everyone’s attention.

“Hey! This isn’t a turian,” he shouts, pointing to the decaying body of a Corrupted turian, it’s tail previously curled up and hidden beneath its wing. “They were attacked by Reapers!”

“That makes much more sense than them simply falling to the elements,” Solana explains, kneeling down to examine a pair of entwined bodies, one turian, and the other a Demon. “An ambush, maybe?”

“Either way, we shouldn’t stay here too long.” John huffs as he and EDI drag another body towards the gradually expanding line of dead turians. “Leave the Corrupt. We don’t have time to debate whether or not the people they were should be considered in giving them proper peace.”

I wouldn’t want to put these decaying beasts anywhere near normal soldiers who were just doing their duty anyways. So, good choice, Jon.

Jana sighs at the obvious words left unspoken and takes a knee beside what looks like a Hierarchy mage because of their lighter grade armor. She gently tugs the hood back into place over their masked face and then lays their arms on their chest, crossed over their keel. Then, she tucks their sandstone colored wings against their sides before standing up and moving to help Tali pull over the next, slightly smaller mage the rest of the way over.

“This was completely senseless,” Tali whispers just enough that Jana can hear and Jana nods with a frown.

“The Reapers usually are,” she agrees. “At least now these turians have some kind of recognizable respect even if we can’t properly bury or burn them.”

Tali nods with a slight sniffle, playing extra care to lay one of the turian’s arms that has been badly broken on their chest as best as can be. It’s disheartening to see so many lives snuffed out for some kind of mission that they probably didn’t even know the full extent of judging by all the secrecy surrounding it.

What could these turians have been after that’s so special that they all have to go under the guise of stealth? It could have been the very thing that tipped the scales in the Reapers’ favor. Had there been even a few more soldiers or even some krogan escorts, this battle may have turned out quite differently.

Arching her back to give it some relief from the weight of dragging the bodies, Jana looks up to the clear, yet blisteringly hot sky. No one knows how much further they’ll need to go to meet up with the remaining turians - if there are any - but she expects quite the walk to find them, else they’d have been right here helping with the bodies once they caught sight of Jon and his crew.

“We should get moving,” Sidonis tells Jon when the last body is laid to rest with the others.

Jon hums in agreement as he scans the abandoned battlefield, taking in the various Reaper bodies they hadn’t originally noticed among the various dead turians. There are a few of the other kinds of Corrupt among the carcasses, but the majority are Demons, the twisted turian forms in varying states of visible Corruption.

Without a word, Jon rolls his shoulder as if to relax the muscles in his back and neck and turns away from the tainted sight before them. He starts to continue down the valley, eyes no longer locked on the path ahead, but now constantly scanning the upper cliffs and particularly large cracks or shadows in the valley that could hide any sort of dangers. Their decision to take the valley directly following the turians’ trail may be turning out to be a questionable decision but like hell are they going to be caught off guard like the turian soldiers had been.

Another day of trekking and with the sun slowly descending to throw them into intense darkness of another still, hot night, they stop to assess the situation. Still not finding the remaining turian soldiers when they couldn’t have possibly been so far behind as to constitute another day of travel, spirits are low and it’s obvious that everyone, to some extent, shares the same thought that perhaps they’re alone in this.

What will they do know if they can’t find any survivors? What if that was, in fact,the entirety of the turian squad?

They have no way of knowing because the damn General, in his secrecy, refused to give them any information on the commander they’ll be looking for. Perhaps he was so determined that the turian would be alive, but it’s turning out to be biting Jana and others in the ass at the moment.

“Jon,” she says softly as she pulls him aside from the others dropping their packs to separate into their respective groups with their individual tasks to set up a small camp. “How long do you think we should keep looking for survivors? Certainly, they can’t be further than a day ahead?”

“I don’t know.” Jon takes a deep breath as he rubs his stubbled chin. “We could be walking forever, looking for ghosts, for all we know.”

Jana agrees, but as she’s about to speak, a voice calls out from above on the cliffside they’ve taken shelter under as a wall for their camp.

“Quis it illic? Nuntiare vosmet!” the voice says, tone demanding even if Jana can’t understand the words.

At the shout, the turians of their group stop what they’re doing and look up. Garrus flutters his mandibles and glances to his sister as if in question.

“Ah, non sumus sub amici Templar Jon Shepard. Athelines cum eo sunt,” she calls back in what must obviously be the turian language. Jon nods as he looks up to the possible source of the voice just as Solana adds, “Iniuriam nullam in animo habemus. Revelamini.”

Jana quietly walks over to Garrus and lays a hand on his elbow to get his attention, distracting him from the slight standoff. “What’s happening?”

Garrus flicks a mandible in a soft smile and raises his voice so everyone can hear. “They’re asking who we are. Sol’s introduced us.” He looks up. “We come in peace. General Victus sent us to search for you.”

“Come down” Jon shouts up at the hidden turian - all of them hopeful that there isn’t only one left from their battle. “General Victus has sent us to come find you and your squad, to see if we can help you with your mission.”

Slowly, turian soldiers begin to show themselves from atop and within various crevices of the cliffside. There aren’t many and that fact makes Jana’s heart sink when she sees such a small number of survivors clearly outnumbered by the dead they left behind.

First to land is a sand-colored turian with the same markings as the General. He gives the turian-styled salute before dividing his attention between Jon and the Vakarian siblings, obviously unsure who’s in charge.

“Lieutenant Tarquin Victus,” he says before turning to the others with a soft sigh. “These are my only remaining men. We … were attacked by Corrupt.”

“Tell us what happened, exactly,” Jon asks and Victus dips his head.

“It was all his fault!” One of the turians, sporting a slight limp and missing the plate of armor from his hip. “He made a bad call and got us attacked! The stultus fut-”

“Enough,” Garrus snaps at the man, properly shutting him up with a growl of warning. “He’s your commander. Show proper respect.”

“No, he’s … he’s right ….” Tarquin dips his head and rubs the back of his neck, exhaling heavily. “I made a bad call.”

“Tell us what happened,” Jon says, laying a hand on the Lieutenant's shoulder. Glancing at the injured turian, he furrows his brows and jerks his chin to the other turians. “Tend to your wounds. We’ll be moving out as soon as possible.”

The turian huffs before giving his commanding officer a long look. His gait is as furious as can be with his limp, but his anger with the Lieutenant is plain and obvious for all to see.

Tarquin’s mandibles jerk a few times as he watches before he turns to Jon. “It’s good you arrived, but they’re never going to follow me again after what happened.”

“What happened?” Solana asks as the