Shepard squinted through the thick glass wall. Her breaths were drawing white hearts on it, because 286K passed for room temperature on Noveria. It looked warmer in the bar on the other side. Unlike her turian teammates, who were constantly shifting from foot to foot and occasionally emitting sounds suspiciously reminiscent of chattering teeth, the guy sitting inside, three tables to the front and two to the right, didn’t seem uncomfortable at all.
Saren didn’t want to think it, but after some moments of internal struggle, he realized resistance was futile. He wished Nihlus was there. The sight of Feros, the Prothean megalopolis, with needle-like spires casting long shadows over the pristinely white clouds in the pale, chilly dawn was something Nihlus would revel in, saying poetic things in his orator voice (which ran more than a few keys lower than his normal speech), and blinking tears of high emotion from his eyes when he thought Saren wasn’t looking. Perhaps he’d even be moved to immortalize the scene by painting. A quick sketch with a pencil, then a minute of biting his right mandible, then a high-resolution shot from the visual detectors – to keep the light steady, he’d explain.
Nine hours before the attack on Feros.
“Movement during this phase of diagnostics is discouraged. Please remain still.”
Saren grunted a quiet reply without looking at the geth platform. Without looking at what it was doing. His stare was fixed on the pulse of the power core output. Identical red strings of monospace letters indicated that Sovereign was running at optimal capacity. He could lose himself in watching it – bring forth that strange feeling of detachment that had been visiting him with an increasing frequency. As if he were watching himself from elsewhere. Perhaps from the recesses of the dark, domed ceiling, or that small opening in the wall, near Benezia’s station, that had appeared overnight. To a creature hiding there – and it would have to be some vile, spiny, wormlike atrocity, with hundreds of beady eyes and a black, gaping anus in place of a mouth, oozing some slime to help it squirm through the unclean bowels of the living ship – to a creature living in that terrifying hole, the bridge would appear shadowy and deserted, with sleeping terminals and silent lights twinkling weakly from equipment on standby. One barefaced turian, motionless, barely breathing, and a geth, examining the deeply nested circuitry in the turian’s artificial arm. Only the power core status would seem to be alive, scrolling up the holo-pillar in its infinite, unfathomable, hypnotizing rhythm: 61.32, 61.37, 61.34, 61.35, 61.37… Saren took a deep breath and held it until his own pulse started slowing down. 61.35, 61.32, 61.29, 61.25, 61.21.
Note: This chapter was coauthored by Logsig and yours truly. The credit for all the good parts goes to the first author, as does my ever-growing gratitude. I also wish to thank Misfire Anon for the final touches, and for critique as well as encouragement. Couldn’t have done it without you, guys.
Nine hours before the attack on Feros.
Garrus followed Nihlus up the service stairs without another word, twitching with nervous energy. When they emerged in the starboard hallway on the crew deck, his heart started pounding. But they walked past the locked door to their shared cabin and moved on towards the mess hall. Dinner, then? His heart rate returned to normal. Almost. The mess was empty, save for a single crewman who followed their march with a suspicious stare. Nihlus took the exit at the aft end. Ah. The gym.
Ten hours before the attack on Feros.
“…and then she took her shirt off – just like that – and showed her breasts to me. Can you imagine? I was never so grateful for the mask in my entire life. Yes, yes, I know what you’re thinking. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, right? Well, wrong. I have never seen anyone else’s breasts. Not in person, anyway. I blushed so hard I thought my mask would melt. She does have a very lovely pair of breasts, you know. Round and full, but not heavy. The bruise was really bad, though. A black patch, about the size of my hand. She started crying when she saw it. I told her she was lucky to get out of there alive, but that made her cry even more.”
Many thanks to Misfire Anon for making this, and being, as always, a radiant source of joy and inspiration.
