Mass Effect: The Last Measure
This is an ongoing story I just wrote for fun that takes place after ME2. Sort of my take on a Mass Effect 3. ME1 and 2 spoilers ahead so don't read if you haven't beat them.
Note: The story takes off with an assumption that most of your team was killed during the suicide mission. Also, props to Katsumoto who made my signature and the poster you see below.
Part I:
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:Chapter One: Remorse
He stood alone in the hangar, his armor crumbling and holding itself together just barely. It was marred with cracks, gashes and scorch marks. The paint was dull now, the sheen and luster of a new set of N7 armor now a forgotten sight. His face was awash with grime, dried blood and a particularly gnarly cut across his left temple. Anguish mixed with the scene to paint the face of a man who had seen enough…
Commander Shepard was quiet as he surveyed the destruction around him. The Normandy was holding together admirably after the damage the Collector ship and base had inflicted upon it. Despite the connection he had with his ship (and the remorse over the loss of the first Normandy) he seemed to show little concern for the multitude of ‘injuries’ it had sustained. His mind was instead wracked with a feeling of intense remorse and guilt.
He lowered himself down upon a container of supplies and not without some effort. His body and joints ached endlessly; his frame strained from the mission deemed to be suicidal. Yet he remained alive and well, save for some burns and minor superficial wounds. He could not, however, say the same for his team or his crew.
His Revenant machine gun lay motionless on the deck beside him. It’s use was indispensable, it had kept him alive and as a commando it was the weapon he favored most. With it he was able to destroy the ‘larva’ Reaper within the heart of the Collector base-- striking the final blow with a concussive shot. Yet with all that firepower, all of his training, experience and leadership he could not bring his people home.
He exhaled heavily, his heart laden with burden and sorrow. He had never felt such an immense influx of negative feelings or terrible thoughts, even after the Skyllian Blitz and all of the fighting he encountered on Elysium. Those were bloody days, but they paled in comparison to this day and the repercussions of Shepard’s actions… of his inadequacies.
“Commander…” Joker’s voice interrupted the Commander’s silent reverie. His tone, usually soaked in sarcasm or chiding in some manner was now light and obsequious. He was well aware of the outcome of the mission and realized his longtime commanding officer may be in a fragile state now.
“What is it, Joker?” Shepard asked plainly, rubbing his eyes thoughtlessly as he looked up to address his pilot, Lieutenant Moreau.
“The Tantalus drive is operational, the core is stable, minimal element zero contamination, heat-sinks are operating nominally, but weapons are still offline. All hull breaches have been plugged by the mass effect field which is holding-- trying to get long range communications back online since I’m assuming you’ll want to update the Illusive Man on our status…” Joker was hesitant with the last portion of his status report. He wasn’t sure what Shepard would want. If it was him, he’d probably want to be left alone. Oddly enough, Joker didn’t find himself to be all that distraught over the loss of his comrades. He liked many of them, but preferred a solitary lifestyle in the ship’s cockpit to engaging conversations down on the crew’s deck. He seemed to bond more with EDI, the ship’s onboard AI, than he ever did with the ship’s crew or Commander Shepard’s team; save for perhaps Tali‘Zorah.
“Thanks, Joker,” The Commander responded, he rose with some effort and rotated his armored appendage as if to stretch out his tired limb. “I think I’ll clean up, keep me updated on the ship’s status and let me know when you’ve re-established communication with the Illusive Man.”
“Got it, Commander,” Joker said back. He raised a brow momentarily, understandably concerned for his commanding officer’s outward lack of any severe emotion. Odd that he would be able to shelve those emotions, the loss of so many people he worked so closely with had to be weighing heavily upon him and all he had to say was that he was going to get cleaned up? Perhaps it was the nature of the team; after all, many of them were considered to be the dregs of society. The unwanted, dangerous element that didn’t seem to have anything positive to live for in the first place… at least outwardly. Joker shook his head and exited the hangar, carefully making his way toward the elevator that would take him back to the CIC and ultimately the ships’ cockpit.
Shepard watched Joker leave and then proceeded to exit the hangar himself, scooping up his weathered Revenant machine gun on the way.
The hiss of the elevator door echoed in the empty corridor between Shepard and the entry point into his cabin. He stepped through it, the doors echoing in a similar fashion as they sealed behind him. He languidly made his way toward his bed, glancing over at his fish tank. It was void of any creatures, they had long since died. Yeoman Chambers had been kind enough to feed them while Shepard was performing operations leading up to the suicide mission, but with her capture by the Collectors that task had gone unfulfilled and was forgotten by Shepard. The fish, unfortunately, paid the price. A sad coincidence with the fate of his crew and one that Shepard could not help but lament. Can’t even keep some damn fish alive, he thought ruefully.
He began stripping off his armor piecemeal. Each damaged portion being cast off as nearly useless now, though it had saved his life and provided him with tremendous protection during the attack on the Collector base. Now he discarded each piece as if he were attempting to shed the burdens of his ‘successful’ mission. First the pauldrons, then the armored bracers, then came the chest piece, and finally the greaves.
He stood momentarily in only his briefs. He made his way to his personal head and turned the shower on, rotating the knob to the left to ensure it was nice and hot. He stepped in the mirror and gazed at the reflection. He appeared exhausted and beaten, not a surprise really. He felt drained entirely. His hand slowly ran across his muscled chest, his fingers lightly grazing a deep gash from long ago-- now a gruesome scar and a reminder of past battles. Likewise a similar wound presented a grisly affliction upon his left shoulder, the result of a slug mass accelerated through the barrel of an assault rifle, another old reminder of his long and sordid career.
How had survived this long? How had he managed to accomplish all that he had done only to fail now? Certainly most would consider his mission against the Collectors a success. After all he had managed to destroy the base and eliminate the Reaper they were attempting to assemble. But to Shepard he still failed; there was practically no one to share the victory with and if he could not savor that then he felt empty and alone. Better to have died with those he led into battle…
After his shower Commander Shepard toweled off and dressed himself in his usual Cerberus attire. A form-fitting t-shirt and cargo utility trousers. He never felt the same pride wearing it as he did when he wore the uniform for the Systems Alliance. After his boots were tied he quietly shuffled his way to the elevator that took him down to the crew deck.
The doors eased open and he stepped out, his foot steps echoing on the metallic floor. He rounded the corner and found himself in the small dining area where the crew used to take their meals; it was commonly referred to as the mess deck despite only making up a small portion of the crew quarters deck.
He stood silent, solemnly surveying the sight before him. It was empty now, no laughter or conversation filled the deck. No one commenting on the cooking skills of Mess Sergeant Gardner, no one discussing the exploits of their previous mission, or exalting over the successful destruction of the Collector’s base. Only the constant hum of the Normandy’s propulsion reverberating off the bulkheads echoed in these empty halls.
Shepard’s eyes eventually traced their way across the scene, finally resting on the Medical Bay; there was someone inside he needed to check up on.
As he entered he immediately took notice of the crumpled and seemingly destroyed body of a comrade. A familiar face and a loyal member of his team who outwardly appeared to be at peace, but in reality was in dire need of more adequate medical attention. With Dr. Chakwas gone, there no one to administer any significant care. Only immediate aide was rendered, the type of things the Alliance once taught during their Combat Life Savor and First Responder courses.
“EDI, what’s his status?” Shepard asked as he arrived beside the operating table.
“He is stable, Shepard. However, he has received multiple gunshot wounds and loss of blood is significant. I have managed to alleviate any trauma caused by shock and stop the bleeding, but I am unaware if there is any internal bleeding or ruptured organs. His physiology is rugged, but he was badly mauled during the mission,” EDI’s now familiar voice chimed in.
“Do you have an estimate on his chances for survival?” Shepard asked morosely. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but as it was this was the only surviving member of his team and he hoped with all his heart and soul that he would survive. He rubbed his temple attempting to alleviate the stress that seemed to accumulate and then manifest itself there in the form of a splitting headache.
“Unknown. If he received primary care at a Cerberus medical facility then I estimate a thirty-six percent chance of survival. However, if more adequate care is not rendered soon than his chances are far lower. It is of the utmost importance that we proceed to such a facility with all possible haste,” EDI informed him. Despite being an AI she was competent enough at displaying emotion, as he voice seemed to inflect the importance of the situation.
Shepard was silent as his eyes studied the wounds his brother-in-arms had received. He had been stripped of the armor on his upper body and lay motionless. His breathing was shallow and the EKG monitor beside the operating table indicated that he had a constant, if not, slower heart beat.
Bandages and pressure dressings spread over wounds where an abundance of blood had accumulated. Fortunately the major bleeding had been controlled and while some of his wounds still bled in some minor amount, it was no cause for alarm. Such things were common with wounds on the battlefield; what was most important was ensuring that no major arteries were hit and if they had been then it was important to halt their bleeding. Even with his rugged physiology it would not take long to bleed to death.
“Garrus…” Shepard said aloud. “You’ve got to pull through, old friend…” he mumbled quietly. He closed his eyes for several moments. He wasn’t a particularly religious man; in fact what he had seen in his life made him quite the opposite. But now, he quietly whispered a prayer for his old and dear friend, Garrus Vakarian. Someone had to answer, whether it was any of the human Gods or the turian ones; it didn’t matter. All Shepard wanted was for Garrus to live.
“EDI, upload the location of the closest Cerberus facility to the galaxy map and have Joker set a course,” Shepard instructed the ship’s artificial intelligence.
“The information you requested has already been processed, Commander. Lt. Moreau has already plotted a course and an estimated arrival time of five hours and twenty-nine minutes,” EDI quickly replied.
“Good,” Shepard stated. He turned away from Garrus’ seemingly lifeless body and headed for the hatch to leave the medical bay. “And EDI…”
“Yes, Commander?”
“Thanks.”
“Your thanks is unnecessary, Commander,” EDI responded seriously.
“All the same,” Shepard added. Then he left the room, the rhythmic sound of the EKG monitor’s ‘beep’ echoing in the empty medical bay behind him.
Shepard briskly made his way to the kitchenette where Mess Sergeant Gardner has once prepared the crew’s meals. Something he did well, once Shepard had provided him with better ingredients.
He rifled through the pantries with some unknown urgency. He checked every drawer and cupboard, searching for what he believed to be hidden somewhere. After several moments of exhaustive search he gave up and leaned against the counter top exhaling with a sign of hopelessness. Then his eyes brightened for a moment and he swung open the door to a pantry he had previously checked. He ran his fingers along the back wall, knocking on the material he realized it echoed as if it were hollow. Then he found what he was looking for, a small hidden compartment.
He removed the cover and what he was searching for was revealed. Liquor. Contraband on any Alliance ship and certainly expected to be the same on this Cerberus vessel. However, Shepard was no fool and knew that every crew had hidden stashes somewhere aboard. Usually it was in the baffles between the ablative armor, but hidden compartments were also common. He’d learned that long ago during inspections while he was an officer in the Alliance fleet.
He removed a mid-grade bottle of bourbon, likely purchased on the Citadel and removed the cap. He drank a healthy swig of the half-emptied bottle. He coughed slightly as he was unaccustomed to the feeling of the fiery liquid. It had been a long time since he enjoyed the stuff. He tossed the cap on the counter top and left the kitchenette, rounded the corner and entered Miranda Lawson’s quarters.
Like the rest of the ship it was empty. Miranda no longer sat behind the desk working feverishly at Cerberus reports, or updating status logs within the Normandy’s systems. Now it was as barren as a newly-discovered super heated rock in space.
His eyes slowly scanned the room and his mind shrieked as it attempted to recollect the sight of her. His nostrils flared as they detected the ever-so-slight scent of her. She was a soldier, a tough operative, but she always smelled divine. A smile crept on his face at the thought and then he took another heavy hit of his bourbon. He wiped his mouth and sat down on the chair opposite her desk.
He leaned back in the chair, letting his head fall back without support. He closed his eyes and tried to remember her. He tried to remember the soft, velvety feel of her skin against his own and the tenderness of her touch. Such a wonderful feeling after so many months of hard fighting. The reality of his life was combat, death and destruction-- he was a blunt object most at home on the battlefield… killing. But she had given him back a piece of his humanity.
He had shown her that she was more than just her genetic legacy, more than just a creation and that she could attribute her successes in life to her talent along with her failures. He taught her to own her actions and accept responsibility for who she was and in return she showed him what it was like to open up his heart and let someone in again.
He almost regretted it now. His heart ached endlessly. It wasn’t love, it couldn’t be. Such notions seemed hard for Shepard to grasp and a thing he attributed to young people unwise to the ways of the galaxy, but it was certainly something and now it left a void like a gaping wound in his chest.
A few more pulls of the bourbon and Shepard found himself lethargically melting into the chair and before long his eyelids became heavy with fatigue and sleep, induced by alcohol, claimed him.
Part II
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
CHAPTER TWO: ARRIVAL
Commander Shepard awoke to the same sight he had drifted to sleep from, Miranda's empty quarters.
The bourbon bottle lay open and on it's side beside his feet, nearly empty. He rubbed his head and chin and blinked ceaselessly for a few moments as he tried to gain his bearings.
"Commander," Joker's voice broke the silence on the PA system.
"Yes, Joker?" Shepard responded, almost irritated.
"I've re-established communications with the Illusive Man; he's awaiting your report," Joker informed him.
"Thanks," Shepard said, rising to his feet. He took a moment to stabilize himself, then rubbed his head once more. The headache had not left him.
"Also, thought you might want to know we're about a half hour out from the Cerberus station," Joker continued.
"Good, squeeze everything you've got out of the Normandy. I want us there faster," Shepard replied in a commanding tone.
"You got it, Commander," Joker said back. Then the PA system cut out.
Shepard left Miranda's room, leaving the bottle where it had landed, and headed for the elevator which would carry him back to the CIC deck so that he could speak with the Illusive Man and report to him with the results of his mission. An initial after action report had been sent, but the Illusive Man would likely want a more detailed account from Shepard, or at the very least would want to comment on some of his actions.
As he entered the communications room of the Normandy he hesitated, not wishing to speak with the Illusive Man at this time. To the Illusive Man the operation would be considered a resounding success (save for the fact that Shepard had destroyed the Collector base). He would state that he regretted the loss of life, but chalk it up to necessity in order to defeat the Collectors and hinder the Reapers.
In a way he was right, but it's not what Shepard wanted to hear right now. The people who worked for Cerberus, the people that were a part of his crew and the Lazarus Cell- they were just assets to be used by the Illusive Man in order to achieve his goals. They were all just expendable resources; Jacob, Miranda, even Shepard at some point. Anything and anyone if it meant stopping the Reapers.
Shepard let out a sigh and readied himself for the ad hoc meeting. "Joker, patch me through."
The quantum entanglement device hummed to life and a quick cascade of light illuminated and whirled before Shepard's eyes. It was truly an amazing feat, considering the fact that the two of them were light years a part.
Shepard stepped into the swirling light and suddenly found himself standing before a projected view of the Illusive Man and what he had always assumed to be the man's office. It was dark, as usual, a bright flaring star burned a churning mixture of blue and red behind the shadowy outline of the Illusive Man.
He sat in his chair, regal as ever. A spiral of smoke rose from his lips and a frosted glass of whiskey sat half empty beside his right hand. The liquid was undoubtedly far more expensive than the brand Shepard had been drinking earlier. Two ice cubes could be seen, still melting and causing 'sweat' of sorts to form on the exterior of the glass.
"Shepard… I'd like to say congratulations once more. You've managed to destroy the Collector's home. This should alleviate the disappearance of additional human colonies. You should be proud, you've saved thousands upon thousands of lives," the Illusive Man began in his distinct voice. He took a drag of his cigarette and then casually allowed the smoke to escape his nostrils.
"The mission was costly," Shepard said in reply. Too costly, he thought to himself.
"Indeed. I read your after action report," the Illusive Man said, his finger tapping on the illuminated screen of a data pad. "Not a single soul from the crew alive, your team dead except for the turian." The gray-haired billionaire paused for several moments as if to let these facts sink in.
"But you are a professional, Shepard, and so was every person aboard that ship. You had a mission; a very dangerous one. Every man and woman aboard the Normandy knew the risk, they knew what was at stake. We fully expected this to be a one way trip. If anything the success of your mission went better than we had planned and is a direct reflection of your abilities," the Illusive Man praised Shepard charmingly, but with little effect.
"Everyone is gone; does that mean nothing to you?" Shepard asked in an aggravated voice.
"I'm aware, Shepard," the Illusive Man retorted. He took a sip of his expensive liquor before continuing. "But the Collectors have been stopped. More importantly, however, is the fact that the Reapers are still out there. The success of this operation is only a temporary stop-gap to their ultimate arrival. It's something we need to focus on- there will be time to mourn the loss of your team after this is all over."
"How can you be so cavalier with other people's lives?" Shepard growled.
"Shepard you truly are one of a kind," the Illusive Man began. His voice was stern. Another healthy cloud of smoke filled his lungs, before evacuating through his nostrils once more. "You achieved the impossible. You ventured through the Omega-4 relay, went on the offensive against the greatest threat in the galaxy since Saren and you won.
"Make no mistake, Commander, we're fighting a war. It may not seem like it, but you of all people should know that with wars come casualties. People are expected to make sacrifices in war and your team did just that. You can spend all day wondering if what you did had any effect on who lived or died, but in the end you have to accept the fact that they died participating in something they believed in- something that was bigger than themselves, bigger than you, me, or even humanity. We're talking about saving all sapient life, Shepard. The stakes of this war have risen and it's far from over.
"Now, can I continue to count on you, or am I wasting my time?" he asked harshly. The Illusive Man had successfully dodged Shepard's questions. He'd skirted around the Commander's accusatory tone and immediately detected Shepard's own regretful feelings regarding the mission's outcome. His words did enough to bolster the veteran soldier for the moment.
Shepard stood silently for a few moments. He narrowed his eyes on the Illusive Man, whose own irises were bright amongst the dark backdrop he sat amidst. "I still have a job to finish… the Reapers need to be stopped at all costs," Shepard said confidently. He didn't feel it as much as it sounded, however.
"Good. I'm glad you feel that way, Shepard," another cloud of smoke rose from the shady outline of the Illusive Man.
"So what's the next step?" Shepard asked interestedly.
"Well, EDI informs me that you will be arriving at one of our main facilities in order to render appropriate care to your turian friend- that's good. Take some time to yourself to clear your head while he recovers," the enigmatic business magnate stated. He, however, was doubtful the turian would live after reviewing EDI's report on the former C-Sec officer's vitals. He had simply endured too many injuries.
"Understood," Shepard complied.
"But Shepard, don't take too long. There's no telling when the next Reaper threat will show itself. We need to be prepared; that means assembling another team," the Illusive Man informed the commando.
With those final words the quantum entanglement communication array was shut down. The hologram before Shepard's eyes disappeared and he stepped away from the center of the room. The desk for briefings raised from the deck and a hologram detailing the Normandy's status illuminated as the center piece.
"Commander, we're making our final approach to the Cerberus station," Joker told him over the intercom.
Shepard was at the forward airlock when the Cerberus team came aboard. The first group through the door was an emergency medical unit that rushed to the elevator to retrieve Garrus' shattered body.
Behind them came an army of technicians, mechanical specialists, maintenance personnel, logistics officers and other Cerberus personnel. They surveyed the damage to the ship and were nearly in awe of Shepard, surprised that he had managed to survive.
They immediately went to work attempting to put the ship to rights. As they did, the elevator door slid open and the emergency medical team scrambled by with Garrus now firmly strapped to the gurney. They already had put an IV in him as well as an inhalator which had been forced down his throat in order to ensure he was breathing properly.
Shepard watched them take his comrade away with uneasy eyes, but as he traced their exit his view became obstructed by the figure of a young woman dressed similarly to Miranda.
The woman stepped forward, clearly in charge of this team of personnel. She shared a striking resemblance to Miranda. Enough to force Shepard to look twice. Or perhaps it was Shepard projecting what he wanted to see. Her hair was short and light brown in color. It framed a beautiful face that presented a strong jaw line that seemed to belie a silent determination and strength. Narrow, piercing green eyes looked upon Shepard, studying him as any professional operator would; measuring him up and considering what he may be capable of.
"Who are you?" Commander Shepard asked, almost indignantly.
"My name is Olivia Knightley, I am the operations chief of this Cerberus cell," she announced. She offered a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Commander. It seems you've outdone yourself once again." Her tone was even and serious. Her face seemed to lack any sign of emotion.
"Nice to meet you as well," Shepard said somewhat awkwardly, shaking the Cerberus officer's hand.
"Don't worry, we'll have your ship back in fighting shape very soon," she said with a slight grin. She was clearly proud of the abilities of the people under her command.
"I'm more worried about my friend," Shepard shot back.
"We'll see to him as well," she replied curtly. The turian's life seemed like an afterthought to her; it was obvious she was more concerned about the Normandy than she was about Garrus. Before Shepard could comment any further she turned on her heel and exited the Normandy.
Shepard raised a brow as she left. She was perplexing. Certainly a skilled member of Cerberus' team, he could tell by the way she carried herself. He couldn't help but admire her slender figure as she exited. She was athletic, to be sure.
"Who was that?" Joker interrupted his thoughts. He staggered momentarily beside the Commander, attempting to right himself despite his brittle bones.
"The boss around here, I guess," Shepard told him, scratching the back of his head.
"So what now?" Joker asked.
"Get something to eat and get some rest. I'll be in touch with you as soon as I find out what the hell is going on," Shepard declared.
The Cerberus techs were already hard at work clearing the debris within the Normandy. How long would it take for them to fix her and have her back in fighting order? Well, that didn't really matter. More importantly was whether or not they could save Garrus' life…
Part III
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
CHAPTER THREE: RECOVERY
Shepard awoke to an empty room void of anything of interest save for some furniture with barren drawers. The walls were a sterile white and the floors a dull gray. It was silent, nearly as bad as the vacuum of space.
A single porthole on the starboard bulkhead allowed him a view in to that sparse vacuum. He stared out of it momentarily. The emptiness of it chilled him to the bone. It was a distant memory, but he could still feel the horrible pain from his suit depressurizing two years ago. How desperate he was, what a feeling of complete despair as oxygen violently left his EVA suit. The creeping feel of the icy cold temperatures of space; temperatures so cold they would've froze him to death in a few short minutes if not for suffocating to death beforehand. He shook his head, attempting to rid himself of the macabre thoughts.
The door to his room suddenly slid open and in stepped the attractive Cerberus officer he'd met a day ago when he'd arrived, Olivia Knightley.
"How are you feeling, Shepard?" she asked with keen interest and a raised brow.
"Fine," Shepard replied, rubbing the back of his neck.
Olivia unabashedly examined his muscular frame. At the moment he stood only in a pair of sweat pants. She found his scars interesting and they no doubt caused him a great deal of pain. "How did you get those?" she asked, breaking her normally professional demeanor.
Shepard looked down and realized he was shirtless, then quickly put on a skivvy shirt. "Old wounds," he shrugged off the question.
"Not very talkative I see," Olivia replied with a minor scowl.
"What's Garrus' status?" Shepard changed the subject immediately.
"The turian? He's still in surgery. The doctors are attempting to repair severe internal damage. Could be quite costly," she told him, stepping over the porthole and gazing out into the blackness of outer space.
"I don't care about the cost, Cerberus owes me," Shepard snarled.
"Yes, yes. The Illusive Man made that clear; we are to spare no expense," she responded turning to face the Commander. "Though I can't really see the worth of a single turian."
"Watch yourself," Shepard threatened, stepping forward and narrowing his eyes on the woman. "I don't care who you are, Garrus is an old friend and his life is worth a lot more than yours."
"Take it easy, Shepard. I meant nothing by it," she exclaimed.
"The best thing for you to do right now is walk away," Shepard told her grimly.
"Hmm, are you always this pleasant to those helping you?" she asked glaringly.
"Until Garrus has recovered you're an unknown factor; that means I don't trust you- and I keep those I don't trust at arm's distance," Shepard explained.
"But I'm with Cerberus and-"
"That means nothing. Cerberus isn't an organization I have a lot of faith in," Shepard interrupted her.
She sighed and turned for the door. "Very well. Come and speak with me when you feel the need. You can view the operating room where your friend is being cared for on the second deck. But don't disturb the doctors," she told him. She left the room, shaking her head. The encounter with Shepard hadn't gone the way she had initially intended.
Later Shepard found himself peering through the observation glass into Garrus' operation room. The turian lay motionless on the table, his eyes clinched shut as he was undoubtedly sedated so the surgeons could perform their delicate work.
Shepard watched them as they carefully plied their craft. Their gloved hands were revealed to be covered in the turian's blood and they did well to conceal their work. Shepard tried his best to see precisely what was being done, but the practitioners and assistants surrounded the table and effectively blocked any detailed view of their labor.
They had been at work for several hours and the fatigue was beginning to show. Their professionalism could hardly be doubted, however, and Shepard found it particularly interesting that Cerberus had such talented men and women in their employ. Was this organization so appealing to humans despite it's shadowy activities?
He walked away from the observation glass, not bothering with a backward glance. He hated seeing his friend in that condition. The turian was just barely clinging to life, lying upon the table so helplessly. It wasn't in Garrus' nature to be like that; he was tough, a fighter, as hardened as anyone Shepard could ever hope to work with. Beyond all of that, however, they had become like brothers. Neither of them were particularly keen on showing emotion; they were both soldiers after all. But there was a sort of mutual respect and admiration that was traded between one another with something as simple as a knowing nod of the head or a comment regarding the skills with which they dispatched their enemies.
Days went by with no change in Garrus' condition. Shepard seemed to drift through each hour listlessly, showing little in the way of his old self. He seemed empty, like the shell of the once great man he'd been. He no longer seemed to embody all of the virtues which made him great in the first place.
Joker had trouble attempting to engage him any sort of conversation; he tried everything to get the man to open up and return to a semblance of what he once was, but to no avail.
The Cerberus officer, Knightely, had detailed her observations in daily reports to the Illusive Man.
-Lost any and all motivation to carry on. Likely unreliable for future operations.
-Attitude is somber, depressed even. Temper flares only when subject is engaged regarding the recruitment of a new team and the continuation of the fight against the Reapers.
-Apparently still distrustful of Cerberus despite all that is being done to accommodate him.
-Too much concern over the turian's survival.
-Has taken to drinking.
-Physical, mental, and emotional status appears to be deteriorating, recommend finding another leader to continue Shepard's work.
The reports she filed did not paint a good picture, but the Illusive Man seemed to take them only with a grain of salt. He made it clear that every necessary measure was to be taken to save the turian's life and the surgeons took him very seriously. They worked endlessly, augmenting his body with cybernetics similar to that which were now a permanent part of Shepard's own physiology. Indeed, much of the same technology utilized during the Lazarus Project was now being applied to Garrus, but his status still did not change.
Despite Knightely's suggestions the Illusive Man continued with his same plan of action. His faith in Shepard never seemed to be shaken. It was natural, after all, to suffer some sort of set back of losing so many people under one's command. He may have been a callous and enigmatic figure, but the Illusive Man was not blind to the machinations of others.
To him it seemed that the turian now represented the entirety of Shepard's crew and team. That his survival meant more than just a friend living and fighting once again, but that it was a symbol that Shepard had not utterly failed. Despite the outcome of the mission and the destruction of the Collectors base Shepard would never feel as though he performed adequately- he just had that sort of personality and that's what made him humanity's best hope. It was that quality that he was never good enough, never ceasing to go far enough to ensure success or to guarantee survival. His utter and complete determination and his stubborn will was what would propel humanity through the dark hours ahead. These qualities were far more precious than his skill as a soldier. Certainly they were exemplary, but talented soldiers could be found in many places. It was the unseen qualities of a man that proved his worth and Shepard had them in abundance.
So the Illusive Man was keen to see Garrus recover, nearly as much as Shepard if for no other reason than because he needed Shepard back in the fight… and so he continued to tell Olivia Knightely that no expense was to be spared in making that a reality.
Shepard sat in his empty room, his eyes lacking any luster or appearance of interest in life altogether. He hadn't shaved in days, nor had he slept. Thoughts of the mission plagued him and he found the only way to avoid those thoughts was to drown them in whiskey, which Olivia was kind enough to provide despite her increasing disapproval.
Shepard swilled down a glass of the stuff quickly, now more used to it than he had been just a couple of weeks ago. It took a lot to get him where he needed to be and so he poured himself another glass.
"I hope you've got enough for the both of us," a familiar voice interrupted Shepard's sullen mood. He hastily turned to the entrance of his room to see Garrus Vakarian standing, albeit with some difficulty, in the doorway.
"Garrus!" Shepard shouted, alarmed. He rose from his chair and stepped forward then halted in place and rubbed his eyes repeatedly. He couldn't be that drunk, could he?
"Good to see you, Shepard. Although you don't seem like yourself at the moment," the turian replied in his usual mordant tone. "I could come back if I'm interrupting."
Shepard pursed his lips for a moment and then looked behind him at the half-empty bottle of whiskey. He rubbed his neck, trying to work out a kink that days of sleeplessness seemed to have created. "I was… worried for a bit there," he exclaimed sheepishly.
"Oh come on, Shepard, I've survived a lot worse than that," Garrus replied.
Shepard grinned and the two shook hands fervently. Afterward Shepard had the unfortunate task of explaining to Garrus that no one else had survived, although the turian had not been too surprised. It seemed his memory of the mission before he lost consciousness was sharp and he had seen most of what Shepard described. Still, it was a painful revisiting of the events for the both of them and they sat in silence for a few moments.
"So what do we do now?" Garrus asked abruptly.
"Garrus, you've done enough. There's no reason for you to continue to risk your life," Shepard told him.
"I've got nothing else," Garrus admitted. Shepard was silent again for a few seconds.
"Well, the Illusive Man thinks we should assemble another team and be ready when the Reapers show themselves," Shepard informed him.
"Sounds as good as any other plan, I guess," Garrus agreed. "So where do we start?"
"I imagine that Cerberus officer, Olivia, has some information for us," Shepard commented, scratching his temple. So far he didn't particularly like her, but it appeared that she was his new Cerberus contact.
"Still working with Cerberus I see," Garrus said with a minor chuckle.
"Hey, they're the ones that put you back together, buddy," Shepard remarked.
"Yeah, tell the Man I appreciate that," Garrus grunted, referring to the Illusive Man.
So the next step was to speak with Olivia and find out exactly what steps needed to be taken in order for Shepard to get back into the swing of things and begin rebuilding a team of new and perhaps some familiar, faces in order combat the Reapers when they arrived.
One thing was for certain, he was glad to have Garrus back. There wasn't anyone he could trust in the heat of a firefight better than the former C-Sec officer. First thing was first, however, Shepard needed to clean himself and get sober before barging into Olivia's office.
Part IV:
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:CHAPTER FOUR: PREPARATION
For the next several days Shepard was consumed with nothing but re-shaping himself. He spent hours upon hours in the gym each day. He mixed heavy weight exercises with high-intensity cardiovascular workouts in order to prepare himself for what lay ahead.
Admittedly, it felt good to be back in the gym. He had let his fitness slide over the past month or so. He was far too busy with preparation for his mission through the Omega-4 relay which coupled with his recent days of brooding. All of that had left him less energetic and mentally sharp. He aimed to correct that now with his long days of exercise and an attempt to improve his diet and avoid alcohol entirely.
Likewise Garrus was making good progress with recovery. Early on he had trouble with range of motion and load bearing tasks, but after some time and diligent work he was now able to wear his old set of armor (though he'd been promised a new set). He exerted himself with each day of physical therapy and dedicated himself entirely to returning himself to his fighting prime.
All of this occurred under the watchful eyes of Olivia Knightely, who limited her contact with both of them and continued to submit daily reports back to the Illusive Man. Despite her earlier reservations about Shepard, a sort of respect began to blossom as she watched him re-dedicate himself to the cause. She began to consider all that he had seen, everything that he had endured and she started understand his earlier situation. She wasn't entirely certain she could've put herself in such a position and survived.
Nevertheless she was still rather distrustful of the turian. She never liked aliens, it was one of several reasons she had joined Cerberus. It never seemed like a good idea to put your life in the hands of another species, at least not to her. She continued to monitor Garrus' progress but was also quite suspicious of each action he took and required that he be escorted everywhere within the Cerberus facility.
After weeks of physical training (and Garrus' own therapy), Shepard finally believed they were ready to embark upon the necessary path to select a team to combat the Reaper threat.
There was a problem, however, the Reaper threat at this point was an invisible one. Shepard had no idea what the next step was, where the Reapers were coming from and when or if they'd arrive. Indeed, it was hard to say their attack would even come during his lifetime.
He did realize that more needed to be learned about the menace, though, and Cerberus was certainly the organization that would allow him to find out more. If there was one major benefit to working with Cerberus, it was the Illusive Man's seemingly limitless resources. With that in mind he proceeded to Olivia's office along with Garrus.
"Glad to see you, Commander," she greeted. "And good to see you're feeling better, Mr. Vakarian," she added insincerely, seeing Garrus step into the room behind Commander Shepard.
"What's the next step?" Shepard asked her, ignoring her greeting. He didn't trust her one bit. Miranda may have proved that someone working for Cerberus could be trusted, but this woman was an entirely different person.
"I believe the Illusive Man would like to speak to you concerning that very thing, Shepard," she replied.
"In the room beside my office you'll find a quantum entanglement communications array similar to what you have aboard the Normandy. It will put you in touch with him."
"All right, he's ready to speak with me now?" Shepard asked, glancing over at the sleek steel door leading to the com-array.
"Yes," Olivia stated. "But the turian will have to wait here, with me," she exclaimed.
"No problem," Garrus interjected.
Shepard stepped inside the room and the system powered up in the same fashion as it did aboard the Normandy. He entered the swirling circle and found himself in the familiar office of the Illusive Man. The burning star still shone brightly behind the mysterious figure.
"Shepard, I've heard the good news. Excellent to see your companion recovering. He certainly is a resilient one, isn't he?" the Illusive Man began.
"Glad to see you're so compassionate," Shepard responded sardonically, stepping forward.
"Come now, Shepard, surely you don't think of me as some heartless demagogue who uses his operatives like they were nothing more than a tool," the billionaire retorted. Smoke filled his lungs for a few moments before he let a whirling cloud of the stuff rise from his opened mouth. "After all, I spent a small fortune bringing him back."
"Not at all and he's very appreciative," Shepard said back, although he did feel as though the Illusive Man only used his personnel like tools for whatever greater purpose he valued more than their lives. After all, he didn't appear to be particularly broken up about Miranda or Jacob's deaths.
"So, to business then?" he questioned.
"I need to know more about the Reapers. What can we expect their next move to be?" Shepard asked with concern.
"I wish I knew," the Illusive Man started, taking another drag of his cigarette. "But you destroyed the Collectors' base along with operative Miranda. You destroyed a potential treasure trove of intelligence that could've helped us better understand what we're fighting against. As it stands now, we know very little about the Reapers or what they're next move will be."
"That base was an abomination and you can't honestly expect me to believe that you wouldn't use that technology in some misbegotten way," the Commander exclaimed.
"Shepard, I've been nothing but honest with you from the beginning. This constant fear that I'm going to betray you is beginning to grow tiresome," the Illusive Man explained in an irritated tone. This statement was not entirely true, however, as he had not fully explained his thought process on many of the missions he'd sent Shepard on and had even used him as bait at one point.
"Then find someone else to carry out your suicidal missions," Shepard shot back.
There was silence between the two. Shepard could not make out the Illusive Man's face at the moment. It was shrouded in shadows. His eyes, however, peered out from that darkness in a peculiar way. They studied him… judged him.
The enigmatic business mogul took another puff of his cigarette and then a long sip of his absurdly expensive brandy. "Fair enough," he allowed.
"Our most immediate concern is equipping you with another team that can adequately combat the Reapers. I've sent several research teams through the Omega-4 relay to investigate the debris left over from the Collectors' base," the Illusive Man briefed the Commander who seemed alarmed by that news.
"How did they get through the relay in tact?" Shepard questioned.
"We reverse engineered the IFF your team used to travel through the relay in the first place. So far their research and recovery efforts have not been fruitful, but I'm confident with time we'll find something useful. In the meantime you'll need to begin assembling your team." The Illusive Man tapped off an accumulation of ash from the tip of his cigarette.
"You may also want to check your personal inbox. Over the time it took for your recovery it's been bombarded with new messages; particularly from the Migrant Fleet concerning Tali'Zorah."
Shepard looked away for a moment, the name of his close ally and friend brought back a quick rush of memories. Unfortunately, with those memories came regret as he was unable to save her during their final mission through the Omega-4 relay. Of course her people didn't know about it yet; that meant Shepard would have to tell them.
He thought about that for a moment. That was a task he had to do in person. There simply was no way he could write that sort of news in a message and send it over the extranet.
After the demise of her father Shepard wasn't sure Tali had any remaining family to relate her death to. Perhaps Admiral Shala'Raan was the best person to inform. Someone had to know and he owed it to Tali to let her people know about her sacrifice.
"Then there's something I have to do," Shepard finally said in response to the Illusive Man's information.
"Very well, Shepard. The path to take is yours for now. I'll be in touch with additional information should anything useful come to light from our research on what's left of the Collectors' base," the Illusive Man exclaimed. "Olivia will be accompanying you and a new crew as been assigned to the Normandy."
"Olivia? You think I still need some Cerberus lackey keeping an eye on me?" Shepard asked sharply.
"Olivia is more than some lackey, Shepard. She's trained in all manner of small-arms, an experienced biotic, and a veteran intelligence officer. Her experience gathering information may prove to be very useful in the future, as for her combat skills she has proven herself more than adequate during simulations," The Illusive Man described the Cerberus officer's credentials.
"Simulations? She has no combat experience?" Shepard questioned with a furrowed brow.
"No, but that hardly means she's incapable. If it helps, you can think of her as a liaison between you and I. She can do all of that pesky paperwork that would otherwise have you up to your ears in stress."
"Paperwork?"
"Yes. Daily reports, fitness reports on the crew, counseling of the crew, after action reports after each mission. Surely you don't think I don't know everything about what's taking place aboard the Normandy?" the Illusive Man mused.
"I had a feeling you might," Shepard commented back, crossing his arms and shaking his head.
"Good, then it's settled."
With his final words the com-array shut down and Shepard found himself back in the sterile, empty meeting room which adjoined Olivia's office. He stood there for a moment contemplating his next move.
Going to the Migrant Fleet was going to be difficult. He was sure they'd welcome him, but passing on the upsetting news regarding Tali'Zorah was likely going to be very troubling for both the Quarian's and for Shepard.
He stepped out of the room and returned to the office where Garrus and Olivia sat quietly eyeballing one another.
"So what did the Illusive Man have to say?" Garrus questioned immediately, eager to break the awkward silence that had persisted between him and the obviously hostile Olivia.
"Cerberus is trying to gather information from the Collector base debris. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea destroying it after all," Shepard related.
"I'd agree with that assessment," Olivia added stridently.
"I believe the expression is no use crying over spilled milk, Shepard," Garrus commented.
"You're right, Garrus. For now we're going to start gathering a new team," Shepard explained to his friend, not bothering to address Olivia.
"Any idea where to begin?" Garrus asked. His arms were crossed and he stood casually leaning against the bulkhead of the office. He was clad in his new set of medium Predator armor. It was sleek looking, similar in design to his previous damaged set but now completely painted jet black; giving Garrus an aura that was frighteningly awesome. He still wore his traditional marksman visor over his left eye.
"There's something I have to do first. We're heading to the Migrant Fleet," Shepard announced.
"Sounds like a plan," Garrus noted. He was savvy enough to figure out precisely why it was that they were headed to the Migrant Fleet. It was one of the reasons he respected Shepard as much as he did. He'd always regretted not directly telling the families of his slain mercenary team on Omega about the deaths of their loved ones. He wasn't sure he had the courage to do so.
"Interesting. I've never seen the fleet," Olivia added. The Illusive Man had already told her that she was going to be accompanying Shepard during this mission. She would never say it aloud, but she was actually quite excited about the prospect of joining Shepard on his mission; after all, he was beginning to gain a reputation that would make him a legend and with him she could finally make a difference in the damn galaxy.
She was admittedly frightened over the idea as well, however, as many of Shepard's former subordinates had laid down their lives in order to make the difference she so ardently sought and she wasn't entirely certain she was ready to make that sort of sacrifice yet…
Part V:
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:CHAPTER FIVE: REUNION
The Normandy came rocketing into the Talos system after it's journey through the connecting mass relay. It drifted with ease, it's stealth systems activated. The Talos system was on the edge of the known galaxy and very close to the Perseus Veil.
Despite what Legion had told Shepard about the geth, he still wouldn't let his guard down. There had been plenty of geth that tried to take his life even after Legion had joined the team. Not to mention those loyal to the Reapers could still be lurking about, despite the destruction of one of their home stations.
"Commander, the Migrant Fleet has granted permission to dock with the Rayya, but they want any shore party to stand-by at the airlock," Joker informed the Commander, who stood resolutely behind him in the cockpit. "Doesn't sound like their too happy about us dropping in unannounced."
"All right, Joker, take us in," Shepard replied. His brown eyes peered out of the reinforced canopy of the cockpit.
The flotilla was massive in size and said to be the largest known fleet in the galaxy. It's numbers were vast and diverse with ships of all types and sizes. Everything from transport ships, freight haulers and cruise-liners, to the military grade vessels like frigates and cruisers held formation in a sweeping array across the system.
Most important to the quarian's was their Liveships. Hulking vessels capable of housing hydroponics that enabled the quarians to grow crops to feed millions that lived within the fleet. They were marvels to behold, massive in size; they were the heart of the flotilla and were protected vigilantly by their own individual battle groups which surrounded them like protective mother's might shield their young. The loss of even one Liveship would be devastating to the Migrant Fleet.
The airlock sealed tightly and once it had Garrus, Olivia, and Shepard were all sprayed with a disinfecting foam. Despite the fact that they all wore sealed EVA suit's the quarians were still extremely careful about letting outsiders into their ships for fear of outside contaminates. So they took every precaution.
"Awfully careful, aren't they?" Olivia muttered, as the foam was sprayed off of her EVA suit.
"The quarians can get deathly ill from the slightest contact with the outside world," Shepard explained, although it was unnecessary. Just about everyone was familiar with why the quarians were forced to live in their suits.
"Doesn't seem like a pleasant way to live," Olivia commented.
Just as the last of the foam was jet-washed away the sealed hatch on the opposite end of the airlock slid open with a hiss and the trio stepped out to be greeted by a group of armed Migrant Fleet Marines.
"Is this common?" Olivia asked. She felt slightly nervous, her fingers twitching to reach for her weapon even though her mind told her it was a bad idea.
"Yes," Shepard said.
"Greetings to you once again, Captain Shepard," Captain Kar'Danna vas Rayya stepped forward. Shepard had met Kar'Danna before; he was the commanding officer of the ship, which was also Tali'Zorah's birth ship and the very same one where her trial had taken place. "It is good to see you, however, I must protest; you have not informed us beforehand of your visit and so we find this to be peculiar. Additionally you don not have Tali in attendance and therefore I must restrict your access."
"That's actually why we're here," Shepard began, his voice mechanical through the voice-deucer on his mask.
"Oh? You bring news of some sort?" Kar'Danna asked with a sense of foreboding.
"Yes, unfortunately I am here to inform the fleet… and Admiral Shala'Raan that Tali'Zorah vas Neema has been killed while under my command," Shepard admitted ruefully. Indeed, under his command.
"Well… that… that is regrettable news. Admiral Shala'Raan will certainly wish to hear it. Just a moment please, Captain," Kar'Danna excused himself for a moment and left the trio waiting near the airlock. Meanwhile the Marines began chattering amongst one another regarding this alarming news.
"Ahem, uh, excuse me, sir," one of the Marines shyly approached Shepard. "Uhm, how did she die?"
"She was killed during a highly dangerous mission beyond the Omega-4 relay. Without her I couldn't have stopped the greatest threat this galaxy has ever faced," he attempted to praise her, to say anything to make them realize what a catastrophic loss Tali was. But no words seemed to properly convey her worth, certainly not to Shepard.
"With respect, sir, we always believed she was the best of us… I served with her during several research expeditions and she spoke very highly of you. Despite the trial, despite everything we always knew she was of greater stuff," the Marine said through his enviro-suit.
"She was and I appreciate you telling me that," Shepard thanked the Marine who returned to his squad mates, still in his state of disbelief that Tali'Zorah vas Neema could possibly be dead.
"Captain Shepard, this way please," Kar'Danna announced as he materialized nearby once more.
He led the two humans and single turian through the many halls of the Rayya. Shepard kept his head and eyes directly to the front; he was here for a purpose and he was steeling himself to that end.
Olivia, however, was wide-eyed and amazed. In retrospect it was just a starship, no different than any other she had ever been inside, but the difference for her was the context. Very few outside species ever saw the inside of a quarian ship, certainly not like this. Already her endeavor with Shepard seemed to be proving worthy as she was experiencing sights rarely seen by others.
The quarians were careful, despite their relative friendship with Shepard, to them he still worked for Cerberus and several Marines were always in close attendance.
Eventually Kar'Danna led the group to a small meeting room and after a few moments Admiral Shala'Raan entered.
"It is good to see you, Commander," she greeted. "Captain Kar'Danna tells me you have news of your mission and of Tali'Zorah, I am anxious to hear it."
"The mission- it was a success. Thanks in large part to Tali's efforts," Shepard explained with hesitation.
"That is good to hear, I am certain she would've made her father proud. He always believed she was destined for great things. I should like to see her so that I might congratulate her for her efforts myself," the Admiral responded. She took a quick glance at Shepard's companions and thought for a moment. How foolish of her, if Tali were well she would surely be with the Commander now; how could she miss that? Her heart beat rapidly increased and her anxiety was palpable.
"Tali is… she's gone, Admiral," Shepard expressed with immense dismay. His emotion was not properly carried through his suit's voice-deucer.
There was silence and then the trio could hear Shala'Raan's breathing intensify in volume and concentration. Her hand reached up, her three fingers clutching at her chest. She stammered backward and Shepard hastily moved to help her. She stabilized herself, using him as a sort of crutch, then leaned heavily on the table beside her, dismissing Shepard's help.
"This is… terrible, terrible news," she began. "I don't really know what to say to you right now, Commander. Tali was like a daughter to me. When her father passed I felt that she might very well have been the last person I cared for."
"I can't express to you how terrible I feel about this, or how sorry I am," Shepard tried to say with some difficulty.
"Yes, I- I imagine it is a very trying time for you as well," she sobbed for a moment then collected herself and attempted to stand fully under her own power once more. "Thank you, Commander Shepard, for delivering this news in person. You meant a great deal to her, you should know… and she meant a great deal to this fleet, despite outward appearances. I shall make sure she is properly remembered. She is no less than a hero among her people…"
With the Admiral's final words she thanked Shepard once again and then excused herself, departing the room just as she had entered.
"Captain Shepard, please, it's time for your people to leave," Kar'Danna reported.
Shepard lingered for a moment. "All right," he complied at last.
As the group headed back down the halls which had brought them to their meeting point, flanked by Marine guards, Shepard could hear the loud abrasive sound of a familiar person. That person was shouting at someone, anger flared in their voice.
"This is complete! I've risked my neck every damn day for years, buried more of my Marines than I can count on half a dozen worlds- all for the sake of the fleet! And now I ask for one team, just one damn team for a single mission and you deny me!" the voice shouted.
"Restrain yourself, remember your military discipline; you are a Marine or have you forgotten? You are subordinate to the members of this board and as it stands now your request cannot be granted. The likelihood of your sister still being alive is very low and we cannot risk another ship and more lives on such a low percentage of success. We're sorry," a regal, commanding voice responded to the flaring attacks of the former's speech.
"You're sorry? That's all you have to say, huh?" the voice demanded. "Well, to hell with it and to hell with you; I'll get her back myself."
Suddenly, from a conference room just ahead of Shepard and his retinue a well-armored figure burst forth. It was a quarian, however that quarian was dressed in what appeared to be heavy armor augmenting his enviro-suit.
"Shepard?" the male quarian suddenly asked, surprised by the sight of Shepard and his companions.
"Kal'Reegar," Shepard greeted with smile. He offered a handshake which Reegar genially shook.
Kal'Reegar was a no-nonsense Migrant Fleet Marine squad leader that had led a protection detail responsible for defending Tali'Zorah during her mission to Haestrom. Aside from Tali, Reegar had been the sole survivor.
"What brings you to the fleet?" Reegar asked curiously.
"Unfortunate business," Shepard admitted, looking away from the quarian Marine.
"Tali…" Reegar said with reverence. His intuition was dead on.
"Yeah, I'm sorry," Shepard apologized. He hated this, hated having to apologize to Tali's people. If only he'd done a better job. Reegar must've hated him now, after all, the quarian Marine had managed to keep her alive during her mission on Haestrom.
"There's no need to apologize," Reegar began, sensing Shepard's remorse. He placed a hand on the human's armored shoulder. "I'm sure you did everything you could."
They were quiet for a few moments, the Marines surrounding them looked away as well- an unannounced moment of silence on behalf of Tali seemed to prevail amongst the small group in the middle of the corridor.
"What was that argument I heard just now?" Shepard asked after some time.
"That? Oh, it was the Admiralty board rejecting my request for a rescue team," Reegar seethed.
"Rescue team? For what?"
"My sister was part of a small team of Marines and scientists that were performing recon operations near the Perseus Veil. They were compromised and the geth attacked their ship- we lost all contact. I want to take a small team and a ship to go search, but the board says it's unlikely there are any survivors and they won't risk the resources. Damn bastards, after all I've done for them," Reegar fumed. He paced back and forth angrily. Shepard didn't need to see his facial expressions, it was evident in his tone and the way he carried himself.
"I didn't know you had a sister, Reegar," Shepard continued.
"Yeah… Iriana'Reegar vas Tesleya; she's pretty young still."
"What was she doing with the recon mission?" Shepard asked with a raised brow.
"That's just it, I don't know. She's too young to be any help to the research team and has practically no military training, aside from a few things I taught her. Hell, she was supposed to depart for her pilgrimage soon, but she insisted on going on the mission and they let her."
"I'm surprised you let her go," Shepard stated.
"I wouldn't have- if I had been here, but I was away raiding some geth outpost with my team. I came back and heard the news that she was gone and then a few days later we got the com-traffic about the geth attacking their ship. I've got to find her, Commander, or at least find out what happened to her ship," Reegar insisted. Obviously he had already made up his mind about the situation and was planning to make due on his promise to the Admiralty board.
"Maybe we can help," Shepard offered. "I've got a ship and a team."
"I can't ask you to do that, Commander. This is my affair and I can take care of it," Reegar politely declined.
"Nonsense, you were squad mates with Tali and you kept her alive on Haestrom; for that I owe you," Shepard persisted.
Kal'Reegar stood quietly for a few moments. He looked away, then at the other Marines and then back at Shepard. "All right, Commander… I'll owe you big for this."
"Don't worry about it, Reegar," Shepard assured him.
With the decision finalized Kal'Reegar accompanied Shepard, Garrus, and Olivia back to the airlock adjoining the Normandy. Captain Kar'Danna bid farewell to the group, as did the Marines of their security detail. The captain of the Rayya wished Reegar good luck in finding his sister, before the quarian Marine boarded the Normandy. Reegar thanked him for his concern then disappeared behind the sealing doors of the airlock. The Normandy's next stop was the outer rim, where they'd be scanning for signs of the quarian scout ship and any geth that may have attacked them.
Shepard knew it was a risky prospect, but he felt good about helping Kal'Reegar, he felt as if perhaps by helping to save the life of his sister he could somehow redeem himself for losing Tali. It was silly, he admitted to himself, but doing nothing didn't feel right and so he told Joker to set a course and the Normandy was soon underway.
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The 'cover' is awesome too, could see this on the shelves 
