Seething Hatred.
Worlds destroyed, billons slaughtered, an empire extinguished. Nothing remains. They would be forgotten, their glory erased.
Faces uplifted, they cried out for their gods to save them, cried out against the cruelty and unfairness of their fate. Clung together with loved ones, stood defiant without hope as their worlds were drenched in flame.
The Nightmare twisted. Now it was Earth, the Citadel, Mindoir, Elysium that burned. Her mother's ship staggered in the stars, damaged and reeling, before shattering in a plum of flame. The Silence a shattered ruin on Thessia, her aunts and their acolytes lying limp on the flagstones of the Temple of Athame. Her gruncle, bullet riddled and burned, surrounded by a sea of dead from his last stand.
Her beloved Liara, a twisted abomination, shrieking as she reached out with clawed fingers to tear and flay.
"NO!" Cassandra screamed, shooting upright in bed, eyes flying wildly around the room as Dr. Chakwas' strong arms wrapped around her back and held her gently yet firmly. After a moment, she closed her eyes and relaxed slightly. The destruction, the pain, the horror...all of it had been a mere dream, a vision created by a 50,000 year old beacon. Not here, not now, not her people.
"What's wrong, Cassie?" Chakwas asked softly, speaking not as her CMO but as Karin, the woman that she had served with for years. The woman that had come to more than a few family barbecues in the past, since they had met after Akuze. "Your beta-waves were going insane until you woke up!"
"A nightmare. I saw organics, Protheans I guess, getting massacred by some sort of synthetics. Then it changed to us, the modern races. The Einstein sunk, Aunties dead, Liara a monster! Pain, agony, fear, have to hide havetohidehavetohide!" she started to panic again, eyes starting to jump around again, only to be quite literally shaken out of it by Karin.
"Cassie! You're fine!" the doctor snapped firmly, gripping her chin and forcing the younger woman to meet her eyes. "Your mother is fine, she's in orbit right now. Liara's on her dig, you talked to her less than forty-eight hours ago, and I don't think there's anything in this galaxy that could lay so much as a finger on one of your aunts without the entire damned galaxy seeing the fallout! So focus on me and breath with me."
Cassandra followed the doctor's lead, her heartbeat gradually slowing from its frantic pace. The Phoenix Force stirred within her, a comforting warmth spreading through her chest, helping to push back the lingering tendrils of the nightmare. A wave of emotion flowed from the entity, something very much like shame and apology, and Cassie frowned softly to herself. Whatever had happened, the Force either hadn't expected it and couldn't intervene in time, or had been surprised but allowed it to happen regardless, and she wasn't sure which of those two options she found more disturbing.
"What happened?" she finally asked, and Karin searched her eyes for a long moment before answering.
"From what your team can tell me, the beacon latched onto Chief Williams, started doing something to her. You intervened and it…did whatever it was to you." she said, settling back slightly as her demeanor became more professionally distant. "SPECTRE Nihlus told us that it isn't unknown for people encountering beacons to have similar reactions, though not as badly as you, since the beacons aren't made for their physiology. Most of the Citadel races just are that way, the only ones that get close to be able to handle them without an interface terminal as an intermediary are the asari."
"That would have been nice to know ahead of time." Cassie groused, shifting herself up and around so that she was sitting on the side of the bed rather than lying down in it. Rubbing her temples and trying to ignore the images that seemed to have burned themselves into her mind, she continued. "How long was I out?"
"Nearly fifteen hours, and your neural patterns have been deeply unusual, even taking your…divergent baseline into account." came the prompt response, and Cassie felt the simultaneous urge to laugh and scoff at the same time. Fifteen hours was a hell of a lot of time to be unconscious, though certainly not the worst thing that could happen after an apparently traumatic mental injury. She could probably thank The Force for that, just like she could thank it for the 'divergent baseline' that she had lived with since she was a child. "If you'd stayed like that much longer, you were going to get transferred over to the Einstein's medical bay for tests and treatment. That, or the Captain would take Nihlus' offer to have you taken to the medical facility for SPECTRE agents on the Citadel."
Cassandra sat for a long moment, listening to the hum of the Normandy's engines, a small comfort against the lingering horrors that the beacon had showed to her, and her grief at how the mission had gone.
"Jenkins' body? The rest of my team? The beacon?" she asked quietly, and Chakwas eyed her for a long moment before tapping something on her desk. A moment later, the med-bay hatch slid open to admit an anxious Ashley Williams, who was both active enough and noisy enough that Cassandra almost missed Alenko, Nihlus, and Captain Anderson filing into the room behind her.
"Commander, I'm so sorry! If you hadn't had to pull me away from that damn thing…" Williams was almost babbling, shame and what felt like fear pouring off of her, and Cassandra resisted the urge to frown in confusion, aware that such an expression wouldn't help the other marine's sanity.
"It's fine, Williams. You had no way of know that something would happen, especially not something like this. Whatever 'this' was. I don't suppose you have any explanations to offer, Nihlus?" Cassie reassured her with a smile, before raising her eyebrow at the Turian SPECTRE, who shrugged one shoulder.
"Not really, beyond what I'm sure Doctor Chakwas already told you. The specialists back at the Citadel will be able to tell you more, or you could reach out to that maiden of yours." he responded calmly, eyes scrutinizing her carefully. "You seem to be alright, that's good. When the beacon exploded, we…"
"The beacon fucking WHAT?!" Cassandra shrieked -there was no other word for it-, wincing slightly as the high-pitched sound made her head ache, and Williams wilted further at her bedside. Gritting her teeth, she continued at a more moderate volume. "You're telling me that after everything we just went through, including Jenkins being killed, the fucking thing blew up before we could extract it?"
"I doubt it was your fault, or Williams', and I'll be telling the Counsel as much. The beacon had just been unburied, transported, violently taken by geth, transported again, and Spirits only know what else. All Williams did was walk within ten feet of the damn thing and it tried to resonate with her. If you hadn't interfered, she'd probably be dead, and the beacon still would have been destroyed." he explained, which seemed to reassure Williams a bit, though not as much as Cassandra would have hoped. "For now, we need to return to the Citadel and report to the Council. Anderson is going to send a report to Alliance command via your mother, so you need to add your portion to it immediately." he paused for a moment, mandible twitching into a small smile. "For the sake of information security, it might be best for you to deliver the report to Admiral Shepard personally."
Cassandra felt a flutter of warmth at the thought of seeing her mother, and a surge of gratitude for his offer. A brief respite from the nightmare still clinging to her consciousness, as unprofessional as it was for someone of her age and rank, sounded like a very good idea. The Force whispered comfort through her veins, but something felt different now. Changed. As if the beacon had awakened something dormant within both her and the cosmic entity bonded to her. No, not awakened. It had given her something, imprinted something on her, but what?
"I'll draft my section of the report immediately," she said, rising off of the bed despite Chakwas' disapproving glare and the anxiety of Williams and Alenko. "And yes, I think personal delivery would be... prudent." Noticing Anderson, she saluted. "Captain, sir, I'm sorry I didn't greet you. Can I do something for you besides the report, sir?"
"Don't worry about it, Cassandra, and no. I just wanted to make sure you were doing alright now that you're awake. Head over to my office and add your section to the report on my terminal there, then compile it for you to courier over to the Einstein." he waved off the salute with a genial smile, glancing at Doctor Chakwas for a moment before looking around the room at large. "I need to speak with Doctor Chakwas about the Commander's status while she works on that report, so the rest of you are dismissed. Nihlus, stay please."
The three humans saluted again before filing out of the room, Cassandra taking a moment to clasp Williams' shoulder reassuringly and fist-bump Alenko before making her way into the small silence of the captain's cabin. Padding over to the faintly glowing terminal, she sat down at the desk, but rather than start working immediately, she slumped slightly and rubbed at her face. Another disaster, by all accounts, on her record. Joy of joys, and this one had been meant to be her first evaluation mission with Nihlus for SPECTRE-hood at that! What a fantastic first impression to make. Losing a member of her team within minutes of making landfall, and then quite literally having a genuinely priceless, fifty-thousand-year-old artifact explode in her face. What a shoe-in for 'defender of the galaxy' she was! Oh, Nihlus had said it wasn't her fault, and Hell, maybe he was right. There wasn't really anything else she could have done today, not without having far more information than she had possessed at the time about what it was they were dealing with. And she had managed to save Williams and Bhatia, who had certainly been on their last legs when she had intervened, but none of that made her feel like she had succeeded, only like less of a failure.
Shaking her head with a tired sigh, and smiling faintly at the sensation of comfort and chastisement that flowed from her partner's portion of her soul, she rolled her neck on her shoulders, flexed her fingers, and settled down to type up her report. As her fingers began to dance across her keyboard, she wondered idly if she was going to set a new personal best for 'fastest report turnaround'. Probably, given the circumstances.
##################################################################################
"Alright, Doctor. Fill us in on what's happened since Shepard woke up." Anderson said, the moment the infirmary door closed and locked behind the last of the marines, confident -with good reason- that the sound-proofing built into the medbay would keep anyone from outside of it overhearing their conversation.
"Physically, she's fine. Better than fine for most humans, as she usually is. No sign of any physical trauma, no injuries, not even much in the way of exhaustion or disorientation despite being in a small coma for the better part of a day. If it wasn't for her neural patterns, and what I've been told happened of course, I wouldn't know that anything out of the ordinary had occurred at all." Chakwas responded, tapping away at her datapad, displaying said neural patterns on one of the larger screens in the room. " That being said, and I'll be blunt here Captain, the beacon did something to her. I don't know what, or how, and I won't be able to find out with the resources I have on hand here, but the readings are completely unprecedented. Even when you account for her unique physiology. In the deepest part of her coma, her brainwave activity was literally off of the charts. Delta, theta, alpha, and beta waves all spiking simultaneously. I've never seen anything like it."
Nihlus leaned against the wall, mandibles tight against his face. "The Protheans designed their technology for their own species. The fact that she survived a direct interface at all is remarkable, especially with the situation being what it was." he remarked, eyeing the chart with some semblance of understanding, though it was obviously only a semblance. "Unless you strongly disagree, Doctor, I'm going to recommend that she undergo a full examination at Beelo Gurji when we return to the Citadel."
"I'd strongly disagree if that wasn't your intention, SPECTRE. My equipment here is wholly insufficient for this sort of situation, and as much as I might hate to admit it, we -the Alliance that is- doesn't have the breadth of knowledge and experience about this sort of situation either. Not compared to the Citadel." Chakwas assured him, sounding less than pleased about the admission, but compelled by both her oaths and her nature to be honest about it. Folding her arms over her chest, she sighed. "She doesn't seem to be overly compromised, outside of some admittedly horrible-sounding but understandable nightmares, but the fact of the matter is that I can't find out one way or the other right now. And, quite frankly, I don't trust that something isn't lurking over her head like The Sword of Damocles, waiting to fall when we least expect it."
Captain Anderson nodded gravely, his eyes drifting across the room to the window, and through it towards his office door, the same office where Shepard was composing her report. "I've known Cassandra since she was fresh to ICT. She's resilient, but this..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "This is beyond anything we've encountered before. At least on Akuze and Elysium it was her body that was attacked, not her head."
"Let's not speculate ourselves into putting her in a psych ward." Nihlus cautioned, pushing away from the wall and gesturing to the charts. "I understand you're worried about her, I am as well, but if too much concern is expressed, her chances of being a SPECTRE will become nonexistent. And we need her as a SPECTRE, sir, ma'am. She's a spectacular fighter and leader, and is by far the best of your race, with no offense meant."
"None taken, I happen to agree." Anderson nodded, turning his attention to Karin. "Doctor, can you make sure to express your concerns firmly enough that she gets checked out thoroughly, but not enough that they consider her a psychological threat to involuntarily admit? I understand that you want the best for Cassie, I do as well, but frankly, as important as it is for humanity and the SPECTREs for Cassandra to join their number, I'm equally concerned about the impact that something like being locked in a psyche ward would have on her mental state."
"I'm not happy about it," she intoned severely, glaring at both of them, drumming the fingers of her right hand on her left arm. "But I happen to agree as well. We need Cassie as a SPECTRE, and Cassie definitely doesn't need to get benched, not after losing a soldier under her command most especially. But I will not lie, and I will not omit data. I will only provide my personal recommendations and opinions, nothing more or less."
"That's all I can ask, Doctor." Anderson nodded solemnly, his relief at her caveated-agreement palpable. "Nihlus, what's your assessment of the mission? Politics aside."
The turian SPECTRE clicked his mandibles thoughtfully, running his hand over his fringe. "The mission was compromised from the start. The presence of the geth and those…husk things, however it was that the machines that created them work, turned the entire thing into chaos despite out best efforts, and it's not Shepard's fault. None of us have the information required to handle a geth incursion properly, certainly not as a matter of surprise like this. The beacon's destruction was... unfortunate, as was Jenkins' death, but I believe Shepard handled herself more than admirably under the circumstances. There was nothing at all that she, or anyone else, could have done better."
"You still support her candidacy, then?" Anderson asked, relief evident in his voice, and no small amount of pride as well.
"More than ever, Captain." Nihlus replied firmly. "The way she adapted to a deteriorating situation, prioritized civilian rescue, and maintained tactical control despite losing a squad member shows exactly the kind of instinct and leadership we need. The beacon incident only demonstrates her willingness to protect her people, even at personal risk and even when she doesn't actually know or understand the nature of the threat."
"I'm glad to hear it, very glad." Anderson didn't beam, but his expression was far from impassive, and he glanced towards his office again. "I should check in on her report. Nihlus, please head up to the bridge and inform Joker that we will be returning to the Citadel at best speed as soon as Cassandra returns from the Einstein. I may not know what's going on, but sitting idle isn't likely to be the right course of action."
"Understood, Captain," Nihlus nodded, pushing away from the wall with fluid grace. Before leaving, he paused at the door. "One more thing—I observed something peculiar during the mission. After Commander Shepard pulled Williams away from the beacon, there was a moment when I could have sworn I saw... energy patterns around her. Like a corona, but not biotic. Something else, something that looked like some sort of golden flames." His mandibles flicked with uncertainty. "It may have been a trick of the light, but if the beacon did something to her biotics…"
Anderson and Chakwas exchanged a quick, guarded glance.
"I'll make note of it in my report," Chakwas said neutrally, though honestly. "Could be related to the beacon's interaction with her implants, could be a strange interaction given that she's such a powerful biotic for a human. Just another thing to get checked on, I suppose."
Nihlus studied them both for a moment longer before inclining his head slightly. They were either keeping secrets and suspicions to themselves, or they were trying to appear undisturbed for Shepard's sake. Either way, pressing the matter wouldn't do him any good and would likely cost him so good will. "Of course. I'll inform Joker of our departure plans, then put some work into refining my report for the Council."
#####################################################################
Cassandra stared at herself in the mirror of the Normandy's washroom, trying to compose herself before making the short hop over to the Einstein. To her mother. The reflection that stared back at her was, mercifully, free of any obvious signs of her recent -and short lived, thank God- coma. Her vibrant red hair was well-groomed, her green eyes clear despite the lingering shadows of the nightmares that still clung to the corners of her mind in spite of her best efforts. She straightened her service uniform, fingers tracing over the N7 insignia emblazoned on her chest and the Screaming Eagle on her shoulder, a reminder of everything she had survived before. Her birth. Mindoir. Anhur. Akuze. Elysium. Now Eden Prime. She would keep on surviving. That, after all, she reflected with a bitter twist to her mouth, is what she did best. Survive.
Shaking her head at her reflection, she turned on her heel and headed for the door, passing through and making her way down to the hanger, where her ground team and Captain Anderson were waiting for her, a shuttle bear the emblem and hull number of the Einstein humming softly on the deck a few yards beyond them. Coming to a halt in front of her commanding officer, she snapped off a picture-perfect salute.
"Ready to report to the Admiral, Shepard?" he asked, looking her over with an air of approval as he took in her uniform and eyed the bars over her left breast critically to ensure that they weren't out of place. Not that this particular Admiral would mind or make an issue out of it, not under the circumstances, but there would be plenty of other Alliance eyes on her between now and then, and above and beyond that, it was the principle of the thing. "You look squared away. You have the reports?"
"Yessir, right here." she confirmed, patting the pocket holding the report-laden OSD firmly, and he nodded in satisfaction.
"Good. You have thirty minutes to deliver it and make any verbal reports necessary, Commander, and then we need to head back to the Citadel to report to the Council." he told her, firmly but not unkindly, and she saluted again before making her way over to the Einstein's waiting shuttle and climbing aboard. In moment, she was strapped in and the shuttle was airborne, floating out of the Normandy's hanger in basic thrusters until it was a safe distance away to kick on it's main engines.
"We'll be docking with the Einstein in about three minutes, Commander, so don't get too comfortable back there." the pilot informed her politely over the intercom, and though she knew that the young man couldn't see or hear her, she nodded and thanks him nonetheless. Folding her hands in her lap, she leaned back against the bulkhead and closed her eyes, taking what time she could to maintain her equilibrium and focus. How would her mother react, she wondered, once she had the reports? Oh, her Mom would be relieved that she was more-or-less alright, grateful to see her in one piece and probably lavish her with a bit of comforting affection. But what would Read Admiral Hannah Shepard, Commanding Officer of the SSV Einstein and the second-in-command of the 8th Alliance Fleet think of Lieutenant Commander Shepard losing yet another squadmate and utterly failing to complete the mission objective, not to mention getting herself put into a 15 hour coma? Would she be understanding, would she -like her squad, like Nihlus, like Captain Anderson- tell her that there was nothing she could have done? That she had been thrown into a situation with non-existent intelligence, against an enemy with superior numbers and technology, and that the beacon explosion couldn't possibly have been her fault?
Or would Cassandra's darkest, most secret worries finally play out? Would her mother finally decide that she had screwed up for the last time, decide that she just couldn't hack it after all? Would she rail against her, calling her out for the ill fortune that seemed to cling to her like a cloud, the ruin that seemed to followed in her wake? Would she speak to the Joint Chiefs and advise them that perhaps Lieutenant Commander Shepard ought not continue in the service as anything more than a pencil-pusher? Would she ask that they tell the Council that perhaps they ought to find someone else to be their first human SPECTRE?
Would she finally, a mental voice that sounded very much like an eighteen-year-old Cassandra fresh off the bus at boot camp, decide that her daughter wasn't living up the the ghost and legacy of Faolan Shepard?
A firm warm pulse poured out of The Force, driving back the encroaching darkness of her thoughts and her eyes widened as she sucked in a sharp, startled breath. The difference was night and day, and she scowled as she realized just how deeply she had been spiraling. It wasn't unusual for her to have doubts, something that was only reasonable -according to the shrinks on Elysium and elsewhere- after everything that she had been through and everything she wanted to live up to. What was unusual, however, was just how quickly and just how darkly they had turned. That was new, and she was going to assume it was a sign of something, something above and beyond being a bit morose at Jenkins' death and the beacon's destruction. Something to bring up the next time she saw a Doc, perhaps.
For now, her partner had cleared her mind of shadows and her transport was arriving at it's destination, judging by the slight shift in the weight of gravity pressing down on her. Unlike Kodiak shuttles, carriers like the Einstein were more than large enough -and had eezo cores of sufficient size and power- to have a standard 1.0 gravities. The difference might not be huge, between the two -she couldn't remember what shuttles boasted, but thought it was something in the vicinity of .75 or .80-, not even enough for most civilians to notice. But it was enough for someone who had spent her life in as many different gravity fields as she had to feel, and she rolled her shoulders slightly as the shuttle touched down, eyeing the dully glowing red light over the hatch. A moment later, it flashed green, the indication that it was safe to disengage her safety harness and disembark from the craft, something she did with the smooth alacrity of deep familiarity.
Stepping through the hatch, she found a fresh-faced young man, an ensign who still smelled like the Academy, waiting for her.
"Commander Shepard, ma'am!" he snapped to attention and saluted. "Admiral Shepard is waiting for you in her briefing room, ma'am. I'm to take you there directly."
"Thank you, ensign. Lead the way." she replied, gesturing for him to proceed her, resisting the urge to smile as he pulled a perfect, rigid about face and started marching towards the elevators at the back of the hanger. God, had she ever been that stiff, even as a private, or had she been too damn familiar with the military and it's culture to become quite so…inflexible?
Following the ensign through the familiar corridors of the Einstein, Cassandra found herself automatically noting the subtle differences from the Normandy. The Einstein was an older vessel, nearly as old as she was and a dreadnaught-sized ship to boot, with wider passages and more conventional systems. It had none of the cutting-edge stealth technology that made the Normandy special, not to mention cramped. The crew they passed snapped to attention or offered salutes as she walked by, recognition in their eyes. Recognition and admiration. Not just because she was the Admiral's daughter, living proof that their leader was actually human instead of a semi-divine figure, but because she was Commander Shepard. The Hero of Elysium, the Survivor of Akuze, and whatever other epithets they had one their minds. There were certainly plenty to chose from.
The young ensign stopped at the briefing room door, standing at parade rest beside it and dipping his head deferentially. "The Admiral is waiting inside, ma'am."
Cassandra nodded her thanks and stepped through as the door hissed open. The briefing room was empty except for one person—Rear Admiral Hannah Shepard, who stood with her back to the door, studying a tactical display of the Eden Prime system and the forces arrayed in it's rescue and defense.
"Join me." her mother intoned, before she could say so much of a word, and she swallowed heavily as the door shut again behind her, her earlier fears trying to raise their ugly heads once again. She needn't have worried though, because the moment she was in arm's reach, her mother spun around and pulled her into a warm, tight embrace. "Thank God, you're okay. When I received the details of the Case Zulu, saw the imagery, and arrived to find out that you were in some sort of coma…I was terrified." the older redhead pulled back, holding her at arm's length and scrutinizing her carefully. "Are you alright, fit to be out of the infirmary?"
"Nihlus and Doc Chakwas are pretty firm about me getting checked out at the SPECTRE hospital when we get back to the Citadel, something about my brain-waves while I was out of it and exposure to the beacon," Cassie reassured her, being deliberately vague and 'dumb' about the concerns that the two held for her health, and not just because she didn't want to worry her mother. "But I feel right as rain. No shakes, blurry vision, anal leakage…"
"God, Cassie. I never should have let you spend so much time with those medical students." her mother groaned, releasing her and stepping back so that she could pinch the bridge of her nose and shake her head in amused, affectionate dismay. Sighing and half-smiling, she leaned against the holotank and folded her arms beneath over her chest. "I'm glad to hear you're okay. I don't doubt your skills, or your power for that matter, but the geth haven't been seen and fought in anything approaching numbers for centuries. Not to mention that…cuttlefish dreadnaught that was a part of the attack. They found evidence of it firing on the planet, did you know? Looks like it hit the barracks and defenses with it's weaponry as it landed. Most of the garrison forces in that area didn't even make it to their armories, and the triple-A didn't seem to have done a damn thing. We have no idea what it's capabilities are or where it came from."
"What about the security logs? Data dumps from the turrets and the emergency systems? Combat recordings from the members of the 232nd and 212th that were able to put up a fight?" Cassie asked, frowning faintly, a frown that deepened as her mother shook her head with a mirroring frown.
"None of it survived. All the systems were slagged beyond recovery and booby-trapped with incredibly potent viruses. The only data that made it off planet is the data that you're carrying from your squad and those two locals you rescued, Williams and Bhatia. And, for pretty obvious and grim reasons, we don't have much in the way of eyewitness testimony either." Hannah explained. Groused, really, her disappointment and aggravation at that state of affairs quite clear. And not only from the human cost, which of course she knew disturbed her mother, but also from the professional standpoint. Both of them were defenders of humanity, after all, and it was hard to defend your people from a threat that you had no information on. How could you develop tactics and strategies for something that was more-or-less a complete unknown?
"Speaking of which, here." Cassandra delved into her pocket, pulling out the OSD and passing it over carefully. "That's all of our reports. Mine, my squad, Williams, Bhatia, even Joker and Anderson added some notes on what they saw in orbit during the mission. It's probably not as thorough as it will be once we get properly debriefed, you know how it goes, but for the time being…"
"Oh, I know." her mother muttered wryly, the two Shepard women sharing fleeting, commiserating smiles. Both of them had dealt with more debriefings they cared to imagine, and while it was true that the men and women who performed them had the talent and the training to help people remember some of the smallest, yet most vital, details, it didn't stop it from being an exhausting experience. Mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausting, at that. Accepting the OSD just as carefully and putting it aside for the time being, Hannah kept her focus on her only child. "You sure you're okay? I know it isn't easy losing a man, and I know how hard you can be on yourself sometimes. None of this was your fault. You know that, right?"
"Yeah, I know. Someday I might even believe it." Cassie remarked, shrugging tiredly with a twist to her lips that might, generously, be called a smile. Her omnitool chimed and she frowned, glancing down at it and drooping slightly.
"Out of time, huh?" her mother asked softly, resignation in her voice, and Cassie shrugged again, smile a little larger and a little less bitter.
"Duty calls. Time for Nihlus and I to head back to the Council and explain why a fifty-thousand-year-old beacon exploded in our faces within an hour of our first mission starting." she confirmed, her tone taking on a whimsically dry note. "I do so enjoy trying to explain a disaster to my superiors from a position of near-total ignorance. Nothing quite like trying to explain the inexplicable in such a way that it doesn't sound like you're trying to duck responsibility. Right?"
"Nothing like it in the world." her mother confirmed, just as dryly, and the two of them laughed together before embracing again, more gently and less desperately than the first, and Cassie felt her cheeks color slightly -and her heart warm- at the gentle kiss her mother placed on the crown of her head when it was done. "I love you baby. Stay safe, kick some ass, and when we figure out what happened here, we'll both be the first in line to make sure it never happens again. Copy?"
"Copy." Cassandra stepped back, straightening her uniform with practiced precision. "I'll transmit what we learn on the Citadel once I'm cleared to do so, if we don't see each other again before then."
"Good hunting, Commander." The shift in her mother's tone was subtle but unmistakable—from mother to officer, personal to professional. It was a transition they'd perfected over years of service together.
As Cassandra made her way back through the Einstein's corridors, the Phoenix Force pulsed within her, its presence more... insistent than before. Since the beacon, it seemed almost agitated, as if trying to communicate something just beyond her comprehension. She paused momentarily, pressing her palm against her sternum, feeling the warm energy respond to her touch.
"What are you trying to tell me?" she whispered under her breath, wishing she was alone with both the time and the privacy to visit The White-Hot Room and speak with her partner directly. Something she wasn't likely to be able to do until after they arrived at the citadel, if then.
The young ensign escorting her pretended not to notice, his gaze rigidly ahead and his ears doubtlessly closed with the ease of long practice to the muttered ramblings of his superior officers. A good talent to have, she thought with an invisible smirk, especially for a young ensign on a fleet flagship. A wise subordinate learned when to ignore their superior's mutterings, and when to interject as helpfully as possible, and it seemed that this fellow was already mastering the skill.
The journey back to the Normandy passed in a blur of salutes and murmured greetings, Cassandra's mind already racing ahead to the Citadel and the Council. The nightmarish visions from the beacon lingered at the edges of her thought process, an acknowledgement -reluctant though it might have been- that it was important and more than just bad dreams from a battle gone wrong picking away at the back of her mind. What would she say to the Council about them, she wondered? Would she even mention them at all? Seeing visions wasn't typically a good sign, and the last thing that she wanted was to get written off as psychologically unfit.
As she stepped back onto the Normandy, Joker's voice crackled over the comms. "Welcome back, Commander. Captain says we're ready to make the jump to the Citadel as soon as you're aboard, so as soon as that shuttle gets out of my way, we're headed for the relay. He also told me to tell you not to bother reporting in, just head for the pods and get some shut-eye."
"Thanks, Joker. Tell him I'm on my way there now." she replied automatically, as she watched the Einstein's shuttle lift off again and go scooting back into the pin-pricked darkness of space, the hanger door slowly rising behind it and the thrum of the Normandy's engine and eezo core quickening as Joker got to work carrying out his instructions, before turning away to follow her own.
Maybe she would have some time to talk to her partner after all.