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The Translation in Blood	By : Mayamahal Category: +M through R > Mass Effect Views: 19003 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Bioware or ANYTHING in the Mass Effect universe, including the characters therein. I make no money on this story.

Chapter List
- 15
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- 17
Hannah leaned out against the observation deck rail, secure on her cruiser but missing her little ship, the Orizba. She missed the sheer rush of exploring, discovering planets that humans had yet to see, taking survey of asteroids as yet uncharted.
This is decidedly more important, though, she admitted to herself, a small smile tugging at her lips as she stared out at the massive project, the greatest endeavor, the greatest hope of over a dozen species.
The Crucible was nearing completion, earlier than first scheduled thanks in no small part to Hannah's fiesty ball of blue tolerance. The famous Commander Shepard, healing rifts and wars that had gone on for centuries in a matter of weeks. It was hard not to be proud.
Or to feel worried.
Even knowing her daughter had allies aplenty, in the light and hidden in shadow, it still bothered her at what this all pointed to. A standoff with a machine no one knew how to operate, just a vague notion, a wish, a prayer, and a possible victory.
Or absolute failure.
The Admiral shook herself from that train of thought, unwilling to let in the worries that no doubt plagued her daughter. Hannah would do what she always did; she'd be the first in line to back up her kid and support her with all the manpower and ammunition that she could.
Or maybe I'd be the second in line ...
Following that train of thought was very much not comfortable these days, especially after more digging brought to light more information than she'd expected. He'd been behind the weapons drop at the Skyllian Blitz, the last burst of ammo that had saved her daughter's platoon in the final, desperate minutes of the fight. Councilor Sparatus had not stinted in his support of her daughter, and if rumor was true, he'd been the first to to call in his resources and figure out exactly what it was the commander would need to pull some kind of retaliation force together.
And then there was last year, when it turned out her daughter was still alive...
<i>"Mom, the motherfuckin' bastards aren't listening to me. They say I've practically gone rogue and to hell with anything I've ever done.
AND SPARATUS. I thought out of the batch, he was the one with the most sense! He was always sneaking me intel and slapping me with extra gear. You know what he did? That asshole fucking AIR-QUOTED ME. LIKE HOW YOU DO IT. Do Turians even know what that MEANS? I felt like I was 15 again and had just drug home that one kid, remember? The one you caught me making out with in your be-"</i>
Hannah covered her face with her hand, remembering the shame and how it made her blush with embarassment. He air-quoted at her daughter. She wondered- no, she knew he'd done it on purpose. Did he know how much it drove her daughter crazy? Probably not. But then again-
Her omni-tool blipped. She opened the interface. Speak of the devil.
"Hey, kiddo," Hannah said, giving her daughter her brightest smile. Her fears be damned, her daughter would never see her afraid. "I hear you're doing good wo-"
"I got something to tell you, Mama."
Mama. Oh no. Serious conversation time.
Hannah shifted away from the rail, frowning at the 2D image of her daughter's open face, so like her own. "I'm here. What do you need?"
The commander smiled up at her. "No, it's not like that. I just um. I needed to confess something to you. You're going to want to sit down for this."
Oh god. She's pregnant.
Hannah made her way to a bench not far away, settling in and crossing her legs. The glow of the project radiated the observation take in soft light, making it easy to see. She nodded at the interface screen, took a deep breath. "Alright. What's up?"
Her daughter took a moment to collect her thoughts. Her eyes flicked down in what looked almost like shame, but the smile that played across her lips said something else. And Hannah was always good at reading expression.
"I found out who'd been making 'adjustments' with all my purchases. It spread from the Citadel to every supplier in the known galaxy. The attempt was to be subtle, but I think it stopped to matter a few days ago."
Hannah blinked. This ... was unexpected.
The call continued. "The new Turian Primarch was given an ultimatum by the Turian Councilor Sparatus. I needed a few fighters for my situation on Tuchanka, and apparently there was some heel dragging. I intercepted a message between Sparatus and Primarch Victus that said, and I quote, 'Give her what she wants or I'll break your face with my massive star-cruiser. She's our last best hope and she's cleaning up your mess. Don't be a turd, Victus. I know where you live and I have pictures of every girl you ever shacked up with.'"
The Admiral couldn't think of a response. She just stared.
"It goes on for about three pages, too. I thought it was kind of funny, Mom, that his letter was peppered with all kinds of swear words and phrases that you use. And then I remembered that Councilor Sparatus is the only Turian I've ever seen through quotes at me during a conversation.
"And then a few days ago, he asked me about you."
Hannah's hand flew to her mouth.
"Mom? Hey... Mama, are you crying?"
Before she could respond, there was a commotion through the viewport. Ships were jumping into range, a small fleet, and then a really, large, massive ship-
The Destiny Ascension.
Hannah turned back to her daughter's floating visage above her arm.
"What did you DO, you brat?" she gasped, jumping up and running to the window.
"Mom, this war is changing everything, but it's especially changing how much time all of us thought we'd have." Hannah stared as the star cruiser made to dock, let's signalling across it's bow that yes, the full council was on board. "Don't tell me you don't care, either, or that there are more important things right now. You know this is why we do this job.
"You know it's why I fight, too. And I know..."
Here, her powerful, confident daughter faltered. Her voice broke. She cleared her throat and lifted her chin just in time for her mother to catch it.
"And I know the real reason why you wear make-up every day. It isn't because you look old. Because you know you don't."
Now Hannah Shepard really started to cry; it didn't even surprise her that the face she was staring in to was as well. "... oh... oh, sweetheart, I-"
"And Mama ... if I'm going to have the balls to sport Turian clanmarks after tonight, then you're going to have to man-up and do the same. I'm just sad you beat me to the punch."
Hannah gave a choked laugh. "Oh, baby..."
"Shut up, Mama. I love you. Go find him. And get laid. And tell him that apparently, the fetish for Turians is now a genetic disease."
�@
- 15
- 16
- 17
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The Translation in Blood