Chapter Text
“That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain…”
-William Shakespeare
The door to the cargo bay won’t close.
A trivial enough matter for a starship, let alone a state-of-the-art prototype frigate serving in the Systems Alliance. It had taken almost a day before anyone had noticed in the first place. The engineers she contacted over comm had assured her that it would be an easy fix. Everyone on board had accepted it. The cargo bay wasn’t a place that begged privacy. Life went on.
Except for Tali’Zorah nar Rayya.
And so here they stand: Commander Claire Shepard, commanding officer of the SSV Normandy, watching the two feet sticking out of the wall as Tali crawls halfway in the maintenance shaft to rummage through the door’s inner workings. Knocks and snaps come from inside, and then an aggravated sigh from the quarian herself. It sounds strangely synthetic, as if it is filtered through a speaker – because it is.
“Tali,” Shepard starts, watching the three-toed feet brace against the floor as Tali pushes herself further inside. “You don’t have to fix this. Alliance mechanics are going to get to it the second we go back to the Citadel. We can manage until then.”
“Absolutely not.” Tali’s voice is muffled. “When you live all your life on board a ship like a quarian you learn how much you need to stay on top of this. Small problems now are big problems later. My people would be ashamed of me if I were to leave this as if it were nothing!”
Shepard laughs a little, shaking her head. Truthfully, it’s not as if she has anything better to do.
A soft beep chirps out, and Shepard looks down. A tap on her left arm activates the supercomputer chip embedded there, and the holographic omni-tool appears. The screen hovering just above her arm displays a notification for her schedule; she’s due for a report back to the Council in fifteen minutes.
Yep. Watching Tali fight the door is better use of my time, she thinks as she dismisses the alert. These reports were closer to empty propaganda. She’ll go to the Normandy’s comm room, open a holographic channel, and tell the Council that she had found no signs of geth activity. If the public got too uneasy – like every time the tabloids swore someone saw a rogue AI in a Citadel back alley – they would use her latest message to soothe the unrest.
Just like the other countless times she’d done it.
N7 Special Forces. Hero of the Skyllian Blitz. Hero of the Battle of the Citadel. And they have me chasing my tail.
She’d already missed one of these reports, purely by accident. Liara had been mortified, taking it upon herself to create a schedule to load on Shepard’s omni-tool and alert her to appointments. With no missions incoming until this throwaway assignment was completed, creating a schedule seemed excessive – but Shepard didn’t have the heart to tell Liara no.
Liara and Tali. The two women had remained aboard the Normandy even now, when no obligation remained. Tali was especially confusing; she’d first left her reclusive people to go on her Pilgrimage, the quarian rite of adulthood. She’d long since found her tribute to present to her people when she returned. And yet – every day passes where she doesn’t leave. Shepard wants to know what’s keeping her, but still it feels too personal to ask.
The other aliens on board had long since left; as a mercenary, Wrex had moved on to another job almost immediately after the Battle of the Citadel. Garrus had chosen to stay at the capital and pursue a Spectre appointment. She hasn’t spoken to either since starting this month-long mission, but now that they’re on her mind…
I hope you two are doing well.
“Shepard! What color?!” Tali’s voice calls from inside the maintenance shaft.
Shepard glances up at the light next to the door. “Oh! It’s green!”
“Yes!” Tali clumsily shimmies her way out of the shaft. The cloth and plastic polymer of her form-fitting environmental suit is smeared with dust. “Blech. I’ll have to clean my filters tonight.”
Her large pale eyes are barely visible behind the closed visor of her helmet. They widen even more when she sees the calm green light by the door. She does a little dance and points. “Look, Shepard! I fixed it –”
The world roars and shakes so hard that Shepard is knocked off her feet, falling forward and catching herself against the door. The lights go out as the ship tremors again, bouncing her against the floor, slamming the walls against her.
Then it all goes still.
One by one, a path of lights switch on along the bottom of the walls. Emergency lights, connected to the ship’s priority power source. Used when the Normandy’s VI determines loss of major function.
Used when the ship is dying.
“Tali! Are you okay?!” Shepard staggers to her feet. The overhead lights flicker on and off.
“I – I’m fine!” Tali’s voice is shrill, panicky. “No suit breaches!”
Shepard staggers to her nearby ship locker. It’s pure luck that they were already in the cargo bay, next to the hardsuit gear. “Listen to me. Follow the emergency path to the escape pods. The crew will help you.”
Tali doesn’t answer, but there’s no panic, no arguing. As a quarian, she understands the implications of a mid-space ship evacuation better than anyone. Shepard scrambles to get her gear on and locked. “Six people to a pod; there’s more than enough for the entire crew. I’m going on one last sweep to make sure we have everyone.”
“Right!” Tali says, nodding her helmeted head and taking off. “Be careful, Shepard!”
“I promise!” Shepard answers, grabbing the helmet and locking it on. Guess all those fast-prep drills finally came in handy. She’s just turning around when a voice calls her name.
Liara appears, wide-eyed and panting. From further back, Shepard can see an orange glow flickering across the stairs behind the elevator.
“Shepard, we’re dead in the water,” Liara says, shaking her head.
“We’ll be fine,” Shepard says in an even voice. She moves past the other woman, heading for the stairs.
“Will the Alliance come for us?”
“Deploying the escape pods lights up every comm buoy on this side of the galaxy,” Shepard says. “They won’t abandon us. Go help the crew evacuate, and then get yourself to a pod.”
“N-no!” Liara walks quickly behind her. “Ashley said Joker refuses to go, and… I won’t leave either. I won’t go without you.”
“Liara.” Shepard glances back. She told me once that she had feelings for me. An asari, in love with me. Shepard doesn’t know if that was still true or not – although she has her suspicions. No matter the reasons, she can’t let Liara keep herself in danger. “I’ll take care of Joker. You need to get to safety.” Liara still doesn’t move, so Shepard puts the iron back in her voice: “Go. Now.”
Liara hesitates for a bare second longer – then she turns and runs up the stairs, back out of sight.
Shepard begins moving, up the stairs and onwards deeper into the ship. Her helmet is connected to the Normandy VI though her hardsuit, and it displays notifications across the HUD as she walks. Escape pods are launching. Emergency systems active. SOS signals sent to every relay in range. The ship VI displays diagrams of the Normandy on every available monitor, noting escape routes and damaged sections.
On each screen, the entire middle of the ship glows red.
Wrenching open a set of doors, Shepard finds herself out of the dead dark. The mess deck burns orange and flickering as the flames slowly eat away the ship. Wires hang from the ceiling, sparking and snapping. Entire sections of the wall and ceiling are twisted and collapsing. A pipe hangs from the ceiling, spraying coolant.
There’s no sign of any crew, Alliance or otherwise. A clean evacuation – Ashley Williams has done well as Shepard’s acting lieutenant. But there’s still the matter of her pilot, who will be found at the helm – past the major damage.
None of the dampening systems are online, and so the fires intensify the farther she goes. The hardsuit will only protect her so much – if it gets much worse she’s better off finding an airlock and crawling around outside in zero G’s.
“Mayday, mayday, this is the SSV Normandy of the Systems Alliance. Mayday, this is Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau, we have sustained heavy damage – ”
“Joker!” she half shouts through the comm. “Get your EVA on and get to a damn escape pod!”
“ – we have sustained heavy damage from an unknown target, repeat, we have sustained – ”
Shepard clenches her jaw. He’s blatantly ignoring her orders, for one, but –
Unknown target? In this galaxy, there are no unknown targets. Even rare races, or those that keep out of Citadel space – they’re all still known quantities, even here in the Omega nebula, the heart of Terminus sector. This far into wild space, the ship’s shields would have been running on full, and even then only a surprise blow could catch Joker off guard.
So, Shepard. What can hide long enough to get the drop on your pilot? What weapon can blow through standard military shields and cripple a ship in one blow?
Her only answer is the cold pit in her stomach.
The wall and upper portion has collapsed completely over the short stairs that lead to the CIC. The wreckage is enveloped in fire, and the door beyond is only barely visible. Even with her armor the way is blocked. Grinding her teeth, Shepard backtracks to the other side, taking the stairs through the armory and finally reaching the pass-through to the CIC. The doors shudder as they attempt to open, but only barely move. Shepard wrenches her fingers in the tiny crack between them and heaves.
The air seems to suck past her. The doors fly open. She is pulled forward –
A hiss sounds in her ear as the hardsuit’s internal air source kicks on, triggered by her sudden change in environment. The failing gravity is barely enough to hold her to the floor –
The heart of the Normandy is gone.
The entire upper half of the ship is blown away completely. Lifeless human bodies and countless fragments of ship drift peacefully away, out into the open expanse of space.
Directly above her – filling the entire gaping view where the ceiling should be – is the planet Alchera. The planetshine baths the entire blackened CIC in a pale glow.
Icy. Uninhabited. Joker was using its gravity to slingshot the Normandy and save us some fuel.
With nothing between her and that planet but a combat hardsuit, something stirs within Shepard – a thread of primal fear.
Focus. Your ship’s more or less cut in two, and your pilot’s about to get himself killed.
Shepard starts the walk across the dead CIC, gaining speed in the lowered gravity. The computers and monitors along the perimeter of the room are twisted, charred. To her right, the giant holographic galaxy map flickers once faintly. Then it is dark.
Ahead, the CIC narrows down to the main airlock section – the escape pod there is ready and undamaged. So he doesn’t have an excuse.
As she gets closer Shepard realizes the doors to the flight deck are wide open, leaving it exposed. The view inside is hidden behind a veil of blue waves – the ship’s mass effect fields, trying desperately to keep the helm pressurized and breathable. But after seeing the CIC – or rather, the lack of it – Shepard can only hope that the Normandy will keep the fields going before Joker’s luck finally runs out.
“Joker!” she shouts as she steps through the mass effect field, back into breathable air and simulated gravity. “What the hell are you doing? Go!”
Thankfully, Joker has his EVA suit on, working furiously at the console. His helmet, however, sits the console’s top – he hasn’t even bothered to take off his baseball cap. His exposed face is paler than usual, but he ignores her as she stalks forward and grabs the back of his chair.
“I said go –”
“I won’t leave!” Joker shouts, finally turning to snarl back at her. “I can still save her!”
“Jeff.” Shepard motions to the CIC, half-obscured behind them. Even from here the silent dead section can be seen – by now even more debris floats around the wound.
“The Normandy’s lost.” Shepard’s heart breaks even as she says the words – it hurts more than she would have imagined. “Throwing your life away isn’t going to save her.”
He looks back at the CIC, shaking his head wildly. Shepard tenses – she’s ready to drag him to the escape pod herself, his brittle-bone disease be damned.
But he exhales, wet and shaky. “O-okay. Okay. I… need help up…”
“EVA suit first.” Shepard takes off his cap with the flick of her wrist, handing him the helmet. She only barely relaxes when she hears the click of his helmet locking down - at least now his odds have improved somewhat.
Leaning heavily on Shepard, Joker pushes forward as fast as he is able. As they cross the mass effect field into open space, he hesitates for just a second. “Commander, the other ship. It’s… it’s nothing I’ve ever seen before –”
She takes a step forward, urging him on. “We can talk about it in the pod.”
“No, Commander, you don’t understand. It didn’t look right – ”
A shadow falls over the CIC. Something’s blocking the planetshine…
Shepard looks up.
“They’re coming back around!” Joker shouts.
Shepard practically drags him the remaining few steps, opening the escape pod and heaving Joker inside. She raises her foot to step inside after him –
The helm decompresses explosively as the mass effect fields fail. The shockwave catches her half on one foot. In a whirlwind of force Shepard is flung to the side, away from the pod. The world twists around her, and in the chaos Shepard can see flashes of Joker in the pod, reaching out to grab her, calling her name.
But the low gravity intensifies the wild inertia, and Shepard only stops when she slams back against something, so hard she swears she can hear the hardsuit crack. She tries to steady herself – get her bearings, but for a few good moments the world won’t stop spinning. Then she sees: now she’s on the other side of the CIC, practically the furthest point from the pod.
Alchera’s planetshine illuminates the CIC yet again. The other ship is gone.
From above a red-and-orange laser cuts down through the back end of the Normandy. Without its shield, the single blow bursts the ship apart. Shepard issues the command for Joker’s pod to seal and launch. The HUD display from the Normandy blinks off, the last stage of death for her starship.
The explosion catches Shepard again, blowing her back. The shockwave had come from further down the ship – she’s not sent into the dizzying whirl again, but she’s behind enough inertia that she can’t stop –
I’m being flung out into fucking space –
Shepard reaches out for something, anything. If she can just slow down, maybe she can pick her way through the debris back towards the main wreckage site – she can see the blinking signal lights of the Normandy’s escape pods as they float serenely amid the expanding rubble. Shepard uses the sight of them to crush down the rising panic, to grip the calm with everything she has.
Just get to them. That’s all you have to do. You can do this, you have plenty of time.
Then she sees the ship.
It’s long, almost impossibly huge. Near the back thrusters it is dark gray and jagged, stabilized by half-circle fins. Long spindly sensor antennae shoot off here and there like needles. The front half of the ship – is something else. Matte brown, bulbous and rough, it looks almost earthen, like some growth wrapping around the actual starship and crawling down the sides.
For a moment Shepard stops her futile struggle, staring down the hideous starship as it passes over the remains of the Normandy. For a sickening moment it seems the escape pods are its next target – but it ignores them completely, heading off lazily into the darkness of space.
It destroyed the Normandy, and it left. Shepard resumes the attempts to slow down her inertia. It didn’t want prisoners or casualties – but why? The sight of the escape pods starts to revive the panic – they’re farther away than ever, now. The combat hardsuit protects her from the immediate conditions of space, but she needs to get to a pod if she’s going to survive until rescue comes.
A hissing noise, in her ear. Soft. Barely perceptible.
Shepard reaches up, touches the side of her helmet. Her hand slides to the back of her head. To the back of her neck.
Even through the hardsuit gauntlet she can feel the steady stream of pressure. Her brain refuses to accept it – not after the destruction of the Normandy, not after the bizarre starship, not after being flung out into space…
It’s her air.
In the explosion I hit the wall and I heard a crack –
Her oxygen supply is leaking out between her fingers.
Both hands clap to the back of her neck, to the seam where the air is delivered to her helmet. She presses down with all her strength, contorts her body for a better angle. The pressure stream doesn’t even slow.
So many times her life where she was sure she was going to die. Mindoir. Elysium. The Prothean vision that slowly overloaded her brain. Practically every step chasing Saren, right down to the Battle of the Citadel.
Of course she would go down fighting – she was a soldier.
But now…
The escape pods are just specks of blinking lights.
The pressure hisses past her fingers.
Space is wide and dark. To her right, Alchera looms.
There’s no fighting here.
Nothing left to do but wait. Until her air runs out.
Until she dies.
Shepard scrabbles both hands over the back of her neck, and screams, and screams, until it all goes dark.