Chapter Text
Samantha
The light and noise of civilisation almost made Samantha retreat into the dark, stinking shuttle with the rest of the bawling children behind her. She’d been longing for this moment for almost a week and yet now that she was here, the thought of being alone in this loud, busy place full of aliens and patrolling officers terrified her. The tired-looking Asari customs officer was waving for them to disembark, but for some reason, Samantha just couldn’t get her legs to move. One of the little ones grabbed her right leg, smearing her trousers with snot and tears and even though Samantha was the oldest among them, she was starting to feel her own eyes growing watery.
“Come on, kids.” Ushered the Asari pilot- Ria, shutting off the shuttle’s engine and climbing over her seat towards them. Samantha could tell that the commando wasn’t used to children; she’d been the one to look after them most of the time and didn’t think she’d have been able to do it if she hadn’t babysat half of them back on Tiptree. Even then, the journey had been a nightmare. Both of the Peterson’s kids were horribly space-sick the entire time, it turned out Timothy Kim was a bedwetter and Ellie Franklin would spend hours at a time screaming and kicking at the hull. Although, in a way, looking after a cabin full of traumatised children had been a blessing in disguise. At least it had meant that she’d been too preoccupied to deal with her own terror and grief. She wasn’t sure what she’d do now that they were almost certainly going to be separated.
“Samantha, give me a hand here.” Snapped the commando, her voice strained.
Samantha jumped at her voice, startled by the gruffness of the request and finally moved, dragging little Bobby Peterson with her, still clinging like a monkey to her leg. She almost fell down the step to the docking bay floor with his small body weighing her down and for a second, she wanted to rip him away from her and tell him to leave her alone. The urge was so intense that when she finally came to her senses, the disgust that followed was overwhelming. The kid was three years old, for goodness’ sake. It wasn’t his fault.
“Once you’ve disembarked, please head over to the customs desk for check-in.” instructed the customs officer tonelessly. So far, her arrival wasn’t going as she had imagined it would in her head.
There was no warm welcome, no one to tell her everything was going to be okay and no matter how hard she looked, she couldn’t see her parents anywhere. Quickly, she wiped away a tear that had been moments away from falling and reached behind her to help Ellie down the step. For once, the girl was silent. Ominously so.
“Thanks.” Grunted Ria, gently pushing the stragglers towards the door.
While not the most gentle or comfortable around children, Samantha had to give her credit where it was due. She had gotten them all there in one piece and had managed to pilot a shuttle full of bawling children even with a bullet in her shoulder. She doubted that her manners would be as good if she were in Ria’s place.
“Where’s my mommy?” whined Timothy, standing on his tiptoes to try and see above the crowd.
The customs officer offered a sad smile, her first show of emotion and when she told them again to go to the customs desk, her voice cracked slightly.
“You look like shit.” Whispered Ria to the officer, in a display of ‘humour’ Samantha had come to know closely in her long journey.
The officer frowned and narrowed her eyes at the comment.
“You’re one to talk.” She scoffed, “You look like you just fell down a hill in a Dekuuna gravel pit.”
Ria laughed bitterly, cradling her injured arm and then looked down at the human children clumped around her.
“At least my wounds can be healed.” She sighed.
Samantha didn’t want to pry into what the commando meant by that and instead looked towards the long queue to customs.
“Will they be able to help us find our families?” she asked, doubtfully.
The customs officer ran a hand over her blue scalp and smiled in a way that Samantha was sure she thought was reassuring.
“They’ll try.” Was all she said.
“Goddess kids, let’s just get you all checked in so I can burn the reaper gunk off of this armour and plug up the hole in my shoulder, yeah?” Ria butted in before anyone could get a wail or a sob in edge ways.
“Do you need a medical team?” questioned the officer, only now noticing the blue blood that had dried around the hole in Ria’s armour.
“I’ve lasted this long, Maiden. I can go a couple more hours before I drop dead so don’t worry- I won’t get any blood on the furniture.”
The officer looked at Ria strangely but conceded without argument. There was respect in her eyes as she nodded, and Samantha had no clue as to exactly why. This war seemed to change the way people looked and talked to each other in ways that she couldn’t always figure out. Ria began shooing her week-long charges to the queue, calling for Samantha and Bobby to stick close.
Slowly, Samantha pried Bobby off her leg and lifted him into her arms where he immediately buried his disgusting nose into her shoulder. It was funny to think about how much that would’ve grossed her out a week ago. Now, she didn’t see the point in caring about it, what with the sweat and dirt that already coated her skin in a reeking, itchy layer. She hoped none of the people in the queue would be able to tell but as she caught up with Ria and the others a neat-looking old lady ahead of them scrunched up her nose and turned away.
Samantha felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. She’d never felt so out of place in her life. As she took in the docking bay around her, she realised quickly that she didn’t belong. The white flooring was smooth and gleamed softly beneath the artificial sunlight. The windows overlooking the stars around them were strangely clean and many of the shuttles docked in the bay were polished and far too sleek to be used to ferry refugees from backwater colonies. Most of the people waiting in the queue or on the nearby benches looked put together and fresh-faced- not exactly the sort of people Samantha expected refugees to look like.
“Ria, are we in the right place?” Samantha asked nervously.
“What do you mean? We’re in a docking bay, heading to customs- where else would we go?”
“I don’t know. I thought you said we were going to a refugee camp…” mumbled Samantha, “This doesn’t look like a refugee camp.”
“That’s because it isn’t, Sammy.” Replied Ria, apparently having forgotten that she didn’t like her childish nickname, “You’ll get checked in here and then transported to one of the refugee centres. Unless you have any family already on the Citadel?”
Samantha shook her head, her throat tightening as she swallowed back the urge to cry.
“I have family here!” piped up Ellie, apparently having found her voice again.
“Yeah, you mentioned a couple hundred times, kid.” Said Ria, rolling her eyes.
As far as she knew, all the other children had a family member or at least a family friend here. Ellie seemed to have a whole congregation of aunts and uncles and cousins on one of the wards, as she had constantly been reminding everyone of, but she wasn’t the only one with people waiting for her. Samantha hoped that her parents had gotten here first so that she didn’t have to be alone. She didn’t think she could cope with that, no matter how old she was.
By the time they reached the front of the queue, Bobby had fallen asleep on her shoulder, and her arms were aching fiercely from carrying him so long. She’d tried putting him down more than once, but he’d cried inconsolably each time and, in the end, she gave up. Ria dutifully offered to hold him after the second time, but Bobby had batted her away and continued scrabbling at Samantha’s arms in desperation. Eventually, she decided it was best to just power through until they got through customs.
But here they were three hours later and only now standing in front of the desk. Thankfully, Ria did most of the talking, signing the various forms handed her way and making sure the officers knew how fed-up she was of bureaucracy. If she were in a better state of mind, Samantha probably would’ve found Ria’s excessive finger pointing and exaggerated grunts funny but as it was, she just wanted to have a shower and go to sleep.
“Sammy, come on.” Ria’s sharp voice cut through her hazy daydreaming. How long had she been standing there, staring into space? She blinked when Ria snapped her dirty, blue fingers in front of her face and shifted Bobby in her arms.
“What?” she grumbled.
“Customs have finished faffing around. You’re all cleared to go wait in…” Ria glanced briefly at her omni-tool, “Docking bay E24. Your family members have been notified.”
“Oh.” Was all Samantha had the energy to say.
“Come on kids. I need to clock the fu- uh funk out.”
The children followed Ria like ducklings behind their mother goose, their tears long run dry and their bodies too worn out to complain. Numbly, Samantha tagged along behind them, Bobby sucking his thumb contentedly over her shoulder. Docking bay E24- that was where mom and dad had told her to wait for them. Maybe they were there already, wondering where she was. The thought gave her a rush of hopeful energy, and she picked up her pace, anxious to finally see them again after that awful past week.
“Please be there.” She whispered under her breath as they crowded into the elevator, “Please, please, please.”
Aurin
The Cerberus attack had led to a lot of changes within the C-sec command structure and so Aurin was surprised when he walked into Commander Bailey’s office to actually find the man in question sitting there waiting for him. He’d assumed that he was still in the hospital or at least on medical leave but apparently it took more than bullets to keep the hardy human away from his job. As much as Aurin was sure he’d hate it, Bailey would’ve made a pretty good Turian.
“Morning, Officer Tynurrus.” Greeted the Commander, waving a hand at the seat in front of him.
“Good morning, sir.” Returned Aurin, taking the seat with some reluctance. Maybe Bailey wouldn’t make such a good Turian after all. His over-casual demeanour and lacklustre implementation of his seniority felt out of place in a C-sec office. He couldn’t imagine his old commander offering him a seat, much less without at least an ‘at ease’ to warn him.
“Why do all you Turians sit like you got a pole stuck up your ass?” chuckled Bailey.
Aurin tried to keep a straight face but couldn’t help the bewildered twitch in his left mandible. No, this human was nothing like a Turian in the slightest.
“Sir?”
Bailey sighed disappointedly and reached for one of the datapads stacked haphazardly on his desk.
“One of these days, I’ll get one of you to crack.” He muttered, dryly.
“Yes, sir.”
At that, Bailey looked at him strangely and seemed about to say something before shaking his head and passing Aurin the datapad.
“Take a look at that, officer.”
Aurin started to read the document and paused two lines in.
“This is my C-sec employment file.” He said, confused, “Is there something wrong with—”
“Just read out your date of employment to me, Tynurrus.”
Feeling as though he were walking into a trap, Aurin complied.
“March 4th, 2172.”
“And what was your job title at that time?”
Aurin took a breath and tried to control the irritation that was building up in his chest. He knew where this was going now and didn’t like it.
“Enforcement officer- patrol.”
“And could you just read out your current job title for me?”
Biting his tongue, Aurin read it out.
“Enforcement officer- patrol.”
Bailey leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his torso. The inquiring look on his face was one that Aurin had seen many times over his career, and he steeled himself for yet another argument.
“Do you notice anything odd about that, officer?”
“I’ve had the same job for fourteen years, Commander.”
“But no suspensions, no demerits and in fact you’ve received two medals. Mind telling me what you’re doing slumming it with the greens on the streets instead of sitting on the other side of this desk?”
Aurin had no doubt the man was enjoying this.
“I like my job, sir, just the way it is. It’s where I’m needed.” He answered, sincerely.
“Where you’re needed.” Repeated Bailey, slowly, almost mockingly, “Officer, a man of your experience and merit isn’t needed breaking up bar fights in the lower wards. You’re needed commanding the people that are supposed to be breaking up the bar fights. With everything that’s going on right now, I can’t afford to waste an asset like you on beatcop duty. And I’m not complimenting you here- I’m just stating facts.”
“Sir, if you offer me a promotion, I won’t take it.”
Aurin had been through this conversation countless times with other commanding officers and he knew exactly what to do to get his own way. It was at this point that his declaration was usually met with a sigh or a shake of the head or a request for clarification. He was prepared for any of those scenarios and so when Bailey scoffed and threw a second datapad his way, he couldn’t help his look of surprise.
“See that, officer?” said Bailey, pointing at the datapad, “That right there is the number of people C-sec lost in the coup attempt. I want you to read out the total lives lost and then tell me the division with the most losses.”
He should’ve expected something like this- humans loved to play petty games. Part of him wanted to leave right there and then but even he knew how childish and pathetic that would look. And besides, disobeying orders made his plates itch. He looked down at the datapad.
“Five hundred and thirty-two, sir.” He replied, his voice wavering slightly.
Had it really been that many? Spirits, he knew the death toll had been high, but he hadn’t expected anything close to that number.
“Go on.”
“The division with the most losses was Customs.”
“That’s right. And we lost half of the people that were down there handling the refugee crisis. Cerberus wasn’t interested in bars or strip clubs or nicking credit chits- they wanted to get in, fuck the place up and leave. You have the experience and training to do some real good here, Tynurrus and unlike your previous commanding officers, I’m not buying into that little sob story you’ve got geared up, so don’t even try.”
Bailey stabbed a finger towards the datapad in Aurin’s talons, his eyebrows tightening together. Aurin wanted to desperately to retaliate after the ‘sob story’ comment but something told him he’d never live it down if he did.
“Now, I get that you’re happy to spend the rest of your working days in the same damn job but we’re in the middle of a galaxy-wide war and you don’t get to be choosy anymore, Officer. I’m a reasonable man and I chose to have this discussion in person, and I hope that you can be reasonable in turn. I am offering you a job as customs overseer in docking bay E24. There’ll be more paperwork than you’re used to and you’ll also be in charge of any officers assigned to the area. You’ll get a pay rise and an increase in rank to Sergeant.”
“Sir, please—”
“This is not a negotiation. You can say yes or you can hand me your badge and gun and get the hell out of my office. I need every last officer where they’re needed most or I need them replaced, do you understand me?”
Dumbfounded, Aurin felt his hands tighten around the datapad. The display glitched around his talons. He needed to be on the streets. He needed to. He had to be there in case-
“I’m going to need a yes or no answer.” Bailey demanded, grimly.
He was backed into a corner. If he agreed, he would be stuck in a desk job he would hate, unable to protect the homes and streets that he had sworn to protect all those years ago. But if he said no, the only remaining stability in his life would be gone and he would be left directionless and useless. Sighing, he placed the datapad back on the desk and looked up at the human who had finally beaten him, where no Turian could have.
“Yes, sir.” He relented, “I’ll take the job.”
The smile he received was barely sincere, but when Bailey reached over to shake his hand, Aurin could tell that he was pleased. Or more accurately, relieved.
“You made the right decision, Sergeant.”
He hoped so.