#torific

"Well, you're making my walk to the clinic safer, so. Hold still." Victoria slides a needle in under his shoulder plate to numb the area. It's a weird intersection she resides in these days - Mordin, Aria, Archangel. Galatana and its shiny clean floors, its steady bright lights, its total lack of gunfire and knife fights, all seems a lifetime ago. So does that house in Indiana, and the bouquet of daisies long rotted into the dirt. Her thirteen year-old self, sleepless from studying for entrance exams, daydreaming of Presidium hospitals and pristine white lab coats, wouldn't even recognize her. Sometimes that bothers her. Tonight it doesn't. She tosses the needle into the biohazard unit and then rests against the sink, giving the anesthetic a few moments to kick in. "Should I ask whose gun you got on the wrong end of?" 

"Minor red sand dealer," Garrus says. "He's dead now, and I know who his dealer is."

"One step at a time, right?" she says, and pokes his shoulder.

He makes an irritated noise and glares at her finger.

"Did you feel that?"

He blinks. "No."

"Good. Try not to move too much." Another wave, and the HUD returns. It takes a moment to register Garrus as turian, and then all the stats in the bottom corner roll out of red and into green, and the holographic display settles over him, highlighting veins and muscle and bone, and bullet fragments. She zooms in and starts to work.

They sit in silence for a while as Victoria digs tiny pieces of a nasty hollowpoint bullet from his shoulder. She'll have to tell Mordin and Aria there's a new arms dealer in town. Each piece lands in the metal bowl with a clink.

"So, what's their name?" she asks.

"Hm?" Garrus makes a confused sound.

"The ghost you're avoiding by setting up this little medic-less operation."

His head swivels around to stare at her. "You a therapist and a surgeon?"

"No," she says idly, "just able to recognize my own brand of damage." She recognized it that night in Afterlife, even through the pounding music and flashing lights. For his sake, she's glad he seems to have put aside the rampant alcoholism he was teetering toward that night. For her sake, she's glad he remembered she was a doctor and chose her to call at 3:45 in the morning when Vorash caught a knife to the gut five months ago. Garrus pays well.

Garrus narrows his eyes. "I thought your brand of damage was the bad day," he gestures with his uninjured arm at her eye, thankfully long healed.

"I have multiple brands of damage," she says with a wry smile and gently nudges him to turn back around so she can work. "So what's their name?" she repeats.

He sighs and his rigid posture slouches a little, but not in relaxation. Defeat, maybe. "Shepard." It sounds rusty in his mouth, rough, sticking to his throat with disuse.

Victoria isn't a therapist, but she sure as hell knows pain when she hears it. And Garrus may have a hollowpoint bullet shattered in his shoulder, but she could be cleaning it out with no anesthetic and it wouldn't hurt nearly a fraction as much as Shepard does. She softens her voice. "And Shepard was...?"

"My CO. For a little while. She was," he pauses, "she was good. Really good."

A million different words he could've used, and Victoria's been around enough turians to hear what lies in the spaces in between. CO, mentor, friend. Something else, something different, something more. She doesn't call him on it, or push him to continue; they're edging a little closer toward friendship with each call, close enough she finally felt comfortable enough to ask, but they’re still dancing in that murky area between acquaintance and friend. "I'm sorry," she says.

A sad, broken noise comes from the back of his throat, and he catches it, tamps down on the broken bits, almost as soon as it happens. "She saved everyone's ass, and then they hung her out to dry. They - " he stops suddenly. His hand brushes against the armor storage compartment at his thigh. He pops it open, checks that something is still inside, and closes it again. "She died. And didn't have to. The Alliance wrote it off as another geth attack." 

The way he says geth tells Victoria exactly how highly he thinks of that particular cover story.

Her first year on Omega is a little slippery, events out of order or misremembered or not at all, but Victoria remembers the blow that cracked her skull, remembers Bray calling panicked on her omnitool, remembers hearing something from a newsstand about an Alliance ship's distress call one system over as she slid into one of Aria's skycars. Remembers a text from Mordin to be at the ready if the Alliance didn't come through the relay in the next three hours, remembers swiping it away before scrubbing in to save a krogan who'd half bled out on the floor already. 

"I'm sorry," she says again.

He nods, and she feels him pull himself back from the edge. No way in hell was Shepard just a CO.

"What's the name of your ghost?"

She drops one last fragment into the bowl. "Mom."

Silence for half a moment. "I'm sorry."

Victoria shrugs. "Omega's a great place to run away to," she muses, dodging any follow-up questions. "Tell me about her," she says after a moment.

"Who?"

"Shepard." At his stiffened shoulders, she continues. "I spent most of 2183 either in a cloud of depression so thick I couldn't see three feet in front of me, or getting the shit kicked out of me by some asshole I accidentally let into my life. I missed the attack on the Citadel and everything. Catch me up."

He shifts slightly, just enough to look over his shoulder without jostling her work. "Is this a tactic to help me ignore that your anesthetic is terrible and already wearing off?"

"Yep." She opens a suture kit.

He huffs, the smallest hint at laughter, but he starts talking. As she stitches him up, Garrus tells her about the Normandy. About Saren. About the short redhead woman who seemed to bend the universe by sheer force of will. About learning to drive a human-designed vehicle while she tried to set her own broken foot in the back, about making an idle comment about her height and getting absolutely smoked in headshots. "She was our field medic," he says, somewhere in between trying to remember the back half of a joke and telling her about the altercation with Saleon.

Victoria's long finished - he's bandaged up and she's cleaned up, even started the autoclave - and she crosses her arms. "Were you this bad at getting out of the way of bullets back then, too?" she smirks.

Sliding off the gurney, he tightens his mandibles, making a friendly irritated face at her.

Her smirk shifts into a smile, and she points at the bandage. "Leave that alone for 24 hours." She hands him a bottle of antibiotics. "One of these a day until you're done." A bottle of painkillers. "One every six hours for two days, then once a day as needed. I'll be back tomorrow to change the bandage, unless you have a medic by then,” the smile changes back into a smirk.

Garrus rolls his eyes, but takes both bottles from her. "Thank you."

Victoria nods. "You're welcome.” She pauses, and then decides maybe they’re closer to friendship than she’d been giving them credit for. “You're paying me pretty well, so I'm gonna throw this one in for free. It sounds like you and Shepard were really good friends. And I don't think she'd be too happy to see you in your shared afterlife of choice so soon. So even though I’m one bullet away from being able to get six months of super extended cable, try to duck a little more often, okay?"

She laughs and lets her knees fall back to the pillow, tucking her feet underneath her. “It doesn’t seem relevant,” she says, playing with her necklace. Her fingers trail over the scar on her collarbone, the scar Sahuna had asked about. “It’s over, I’m okay enough. And I know Liam and Jaal would never do anything like that. So I - ” she exhales a short, frustrated sigh. “There’s nothing about it they need to know.” Now that she’s said it aloud, it sounds like the lousy excuse it is. She stares at her hands.

“Perhaps not,” Sahuna says. “But it is part of you, my dear. And they love you. Quite a lot, if the way they look at you is any indication.” She waits until Victoria looks up again. “I know my son. This will not diminish what he feels for you. I doubt it will diminish Liam’s feelings either.”

Victoria swallows. Though she’s never truly doubted their feelings for her, there’s a little part of her that always whispers you’re too damaged to be with anyone. Sahuna’s right, of course. But Sahuna’s only the third person Victoria’s ever told - the rest who know found out on their own somehow - and this is the first time she hasn’t dissolved into tears. Jaal and Liam have seen her cry, but her tears have been for things outside of her, not something unfortunately a part of her. It’s different, and she doesn’t like it. She pushes a stray strand of hair out of her face and sighs.

“I won’t tell them,” Sahuna promises. “I understand if you wish this to remain between us. But,” she smiles at Victoria in a way that makes her think of someone else, someone long buried in Indiana with a handful of daisies, “I think they would like to know.”

Victoria looks away and glances inside through the window. She’s too far away to hear them, but Jaal’s teaching one of his younger cousins how to build a fire in the open-air pit near the center of the compound. Liam subtly sneaks a piece of vegetable from the tray beside them, only to be caught by Jaal - though his only punishment is a smile and a kiss to his forehead. Liam turns and blows a kiss to her; she waves at him and smiles.

“Yeah,” she says, looking back at Sahuna. Six hundred years later and a galaxy away, it’s past time to stop running from a ghost who never deserved her at all.

***

The sun’s long set, and dinner long eaten and cleaned up, and the littlest ones long put to bed. Victoria sits down on the upper balcony, letting her feet dangle in the empty air. The mountains brighten and pulse with the glowing plants - a band of blue here, a patch of purple there, a swirl of pink in between.

Liam sits down on her right, Jaal on her left. She leans forward against the low railing and rests her chin on her hands. She knows she’s been strange ever since coming inside for dinner - quiet, distant, holding herself just a little too stiffly. No one else in Jaal’s family knows her well enough yet to notice it, but Jaal and Liam do. They sit quietly beside her, waiting. They’ve all learned over the past months that not one of them responds well to pushing.

“My ex-boyfriend used to hit me,” she says softly. No pretense, no preamble. No setting up the story like she did with Sahuna, explaining that it all began with her mother’s death and running to Omega and being so consumed by her grief she didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late. Just the bare fact of it. “A lot.”

She feels them share a look over the top of her head. She can almost picture the look - worried, perhaps even horrified, Liam’s mouth falls open just a little while Jaal’s eyes shimmer, both torn between hugging her and killing someone six hundred years and a galaxy away dead.

Night bugs hum and chirp and sing in the silence, a chorus of insects trying to attract each other’s attention.

“Tori?” Liam settles his hand on her lower back, and Jaal puts his hand on her knee.

She sits up straight, draws her legs up, and turns so she’s facing them both. “I’m okay,” she says. “I just, I wanted - actually, Sahuna wanted me to tell you,” she tries to lighten the mood. Because the way they’re looking at her, like she’s the most precious thing in both their worlds and they’re trying to figure out how to protect her from absolutely everything all at once, is just a little too intense.

She loves them with all her heart and then some, but sometimes it scares her how much they love her.

“Darling one,” Jaal whispers, his voice thick with tears. He reaches out and cups her cheek.

“I’m okay,” she repeats, and lets Jaal draw her close.

He kisses her temple and guides her head to his shoulder. His hands gently stroke her hair, smoothing out the little hairs that have escaped from their loose crown braid, before settling on hers. She turns her palms over and softly grasps his hands.

She pulls away, kisses his scarred cheek, and turns. Jaal’s arms circle around her waist and he tugs her into his lap.

“Is that how…?” Liam trails off and brushes his fingertips - feather-light, as if she’s still hurt - down her left temple.

“Yeah,” she says. One break of many. She can point to them all, though she’d rather not.

Liam tucks a small piece of hair behind her ear. “Can we do anything?”

Victoria smiles - he’s always trying to fix things, even things that were broken years ago and don’t need to be fixed anymore. She’s just a little chipped, and always will be. It took her a while to come to terms with that, but she’s okay with it now.

“No,” she says. Maybe she’ll tell them the whole story one day, from the beginning, from sitting down in Afterlife to the bodyguards to Aria telling her they found him dead on the wrong side of a decompressed airlock. But she probably won’t, not unless they ask; she’s done thinking about it, done remembering. She reaches out and cups his cheek, brushing her fingertips through his hairline. “But thank you.”

He clasps her hand, and then turns and kisses her palm. She strokes her thumb over his cheekbone.

Jaal hugs her tighter, strengthening his arms around her. Victoria leans back into him and twines the fingers of one hand with his, letting her other fall from Liam’s cheek down to his hands. He catches hers and brushes a kiss to her knuckles before letting their joined hands drop to his lap.

Bats - or Havarl’s equivalent, she’s not heard a name for them yet - flap through the nearby trees, and Victoria looks up at the starry night sky, streaked with purple and pink aurora. Bioluminescent leaves blow gently above them in the wind. What a strange planet, and yet it feels more like home than Earth ever did. Maybe it’s the company.

“I love you guys,” she says quietly. This isn’t the first time she’s told them, but it somehow seems more important than it did before, more solid. Permanent. Real. They’re all a little chipped and broken.

Jaal presses a kiss to the top of her head and then smooths out her hair. “I love you,” he whispers in return.

Liam leans forward and bumps his forehead against hers. “Love you,” he murmurs.

She sighs contently and lets them just hold her for a while. Shadows pass over them as a family of great beasts flies above. “I’m okay,” she says again, when they show no sign of ever letting go. “I wanted to tell you, that’s all.”

And that’s the truth of it. Though Sahuna encouraged her to tell them, Victoria would be lying to herself if she said she didn’t want them to know. And as much as Victoria wishes she weren’t - Sahuna was right, and what happened is a part of her. The men holding her are her world and they deserve to know everything, even the broken bits.

Victoria nuzzles Liam’s shoulder and shifts out of Jaal’s lap. She scoots forward to the edge of the balcony and dangles her legs over the ledge again, though this time she braces her hands behind her and leans back, looking up at the sparkling starry night sky. Liam and Jaal settle in beside her, sliding their arms around her waist. She smiles and lifts her pinkies, curling them around her partners’ fingers.

Liam lets Jaal tug him out of bed. It’s a little cooler without the blankets and the warmth of Jaal’s body, but finding his shirt in a dark room is more work than he wants right now. The pants he’s wearing are enough. Jaal seems to decide the same, and they slip out of his bedroom.

Finding Victoria isn’t hard, even without any lights. She’s in the kitchen, beside the window.

Liam stops just inside the kitchen and holds his hand out against Jaal’s stomach, keeping him from walking forward. Smiling, he tilts his head at Victoria. 

She turns, bouncing the small angaran girl a little higher on her hip. Thunder rumbles, shaking the glasses Jaal’s cousins left out on the counter, and the girl squeaks and buries her head in Victoria’s shoulder. Victoria presses a kiss to her forehead and gently sways back and forth.

Liam looks at Jaal and smiles at the way Jaal’s watching her - soft, starry-eyed, it’s an expression that warms the very air around them. He’s sure there’s a similar look on his own face. Something inside of him melts at the sight of Victoria holding a child.

Victoria turns, and a smile grows across her face as she sees the two of them. She walks over to them and whispers something to the girl, who lifts her head despite the thunder.

“Hi Flora,” Jaal says, gently settling his palm on Flora’s back.

She smiles wide, revealing a missing tooth. “Hi Jaal!”

“I got up for a glass of water,” Victoria explains. “Flora found me, wanted a hug.”

Liam doesn’t blame her. He doesn’t love thunderstorms, and this is the strongest, brightest, loudest one he’s ever experienced. Victoria’s hugs have magic properties, he swears.

“It’s loud,” Flora says, resting her head on Victoria’s shoulder again.

Rain pounds on the roof, and Liam leans in to press a kiss to the top of Victoria’s head. There are other, more pressing, concerns at the forefront now to have the future discussion, let alone the kids discussion. But that doesn’t mean he hasn’t thought about it.

“Oh, there you are,” a relieved-looking Finn rushes into the kitchen.

Victoria grins at him. “Found something of yours.” She shifts Flora to her father’s arms.

“Thank you,” he says, taking his daughter.  

Flora yawns. “Tori gives good hugs.”

She boops the girl’s nose. “You can have one whenever you want. Sweet dreams.”

Flora sleepily waves at them as Finn carries her back to her bed.

Victoria looks at Liam, and then at Jaal. She tilts her head. “You guys are looking at me funny.”

The storm rages outside as they stand in silence for a moment, staring at her.

“Seriously. What is it?” She pats her head, as if it’s her hair that’s causing them to look at her like she’s the sun.

Jaal cups her cheek and tilts her head up. “You are marvelous,” he whispers, brushing his thumb across her cheekbone before gently kissing her.

Victoria lifts up a little on her bare toes, leaning into the kiss. “Thank you,” she whispers against his lips. She settles her heels back on the floor and pulls away from him to look at Liam.

He smiles at her, his thoughts still half-caught in their potential future.

***

Ellen picks at the clinically-white sheetsbelow her. The last week has been an utter whirlwind of information, and she'snot entirely sure which piece has been the biggest to wrap her head around:that she's not dead, that her husband is, or that she's in another galaxy.

It's a testament to just how in shock she'sbeen by it all that my daughter is in a committed relationship with two men,one of whom is an alien I've never heard of hardly fazed her at all. Thelast she remembers, Victoria's longest relationships were with textbooks. She's clearly missed quite a bit. Victoria's promised to catch her up on everything, but themore important thing is getting her up to speed on the present.

Harry's cautioned her away from too muchexcitement at once, reminding her that for all the years that have passed whileshe was asleep, she's still only a week recovered from very nearly dead.So she's meeting Tori's boyfriends one at a time. She met Liam yesterday - anice man, kind, an optimist, devoted to making the Initiative work, and clearlyin love with Victoria. Tori was always an upbeat, positive person, but Ellenswears there's a light inside of her daughter that wasn't there before, a lightbecause of Liam, and because of Jaal.

She spies the seven-foot tall angara a splitsecond before she sees Victoria's bright orange hair. She waves them over. Torishowed her pictures, and has told her much about them - and that's an oddity aswell, Ellen's always regretted that they weren't closer and she suspectsthere's a deeper story to Victoria's sudden closeness beyond I died and shemissed me - but not enough to prepare her for the sheer size ofJaal. Both he and Liam are a good head taller than Victoria, but Jaal's broadshoulders and muscular frame seem to dwarf her. He keeps a gentle hand on herlower back as they make their way to her bed.

Ellen doesn't know a thing about angaranfacial expressions or body language, but the way Jaal's looking at her -curious, and definitely a little nervous - brings a smile toher face. She looks over at her daughter.

"Mom, Jaal. Jaal, my mom, Ellen."She gestures to each of them as she makes introductions.

Jaal smiles, and takes a half-step forwardand then hesitates.

Ellen nods at him, and then suddenly Jaal'shugging her. "Oh!" she exclaims quietly, a little surprised, and thenbrings her arms up around him as best she can. His hug is careful, mindful ofthe fact that she's healing, but still strong and fierce. She looks at Victoriaover Jaal's shoulder.

"He does this," she grins.

"It's an honor to meet you, true motherof Victoria," he says, giving her a little light squeeze before pullingback.

II.

His mother asks, among other things, if theyare kind.

They are. The crew of the Tempest iskind and supportive, they are funny and happy, they are ridiculous and loving.He’s not certain he’s ever felt loved by a team before. Liked and respected,yes, but loved? No.

Jaal tells her this. He tells her of the crew– of Peebee’s enthusiasm and Vetra’s resourcefulness, of Drack’s tenacity andCora’s calm – but especially he tells her of Ryder and Liam, and the pull hefeels toward them. He tells her of the look in Ryder’s eyes just before sherealizes he’s turned and can see her now, a look of genuine care thatmakes his heart flutter. And he tells her of the way Liam always gives him alittle light smack on the back of his shoulder before a fight, and how hesmiles with a stuttery sigh of relief when they meet at the Nomad afterward.

It feels like such a small thing incomparison, and Jaal doesn’t want to dampen her opinion of his friends. Butdespite the friendship, and despite the love, and though he is happy – hestill feels off balance. I have not been hugged – nor given a hug – since wewere last on Aya, he writes. Sadness tugs at him as he reads the words; thehugs he received in the Resistance headquarters were of greeting, and not thekind he’s been craving. Sahuna will know this without him saying so, and hesends his message.

Do they not hug at all? she writes at theend of her lengthy response to his stories. Or are you concerned it wouldnot be welcome?

He thinks about all the times he’s seen Rydergive her crew a hug – Vetra, upon finding peanut butter in the galley; Drack,when they won a third obstacle course; Liam, after he told a story about hismother and suddenly had trouble speaking around his unshed tears. Jaalswallows. It is not the former, and though everything he’s seen of them overthe past two months says otherwise, a part of him still worries that it’s thelatter.

III.

He steps out of medbay, leaving Ryder tospeak with the Moshae. Exaltation is…horrific. He has no other word for it, andacrid bile burns at the back of his throat as images from the facility racethrough his mind.

“You alright, mate?” Liam asks asJaal passes the other man in the research center.

“I…I need some time,” he says. Thesimple answer is no, but it’s far too complex a thing right now. Heneeds to just feel for a while, before he tries to put words to it.

Liam reaches out and, in a mirror of hismovements in the base, rests his hand lightly on Jaal’s shoulder. “If youneed to talk.”

Jaal nods. “When I know what words tosay.”

With a soft smile, Liam slides his hand downJaal’s shoulder, to his arm, to his hand. He squeezes lightly, and then letsgo. “You got it.”

He leaves Liam to his research and enters thecool, quiet sanctuary of the tech lab. Nothing captures his attention, and hisarm nearly tingles with the memory of Liam’s touch – tingles with the need for more.He’s on the verge of walking back out and asking when the quiet doorchime dings.

“Come in,” he says, the hoarsenessof his own voice surprising. He clears his throat.

Ryder steps in far enough that the doorcloses behind her. And then steps closer, until she’s only a foot away fromhim. She’s let her hair down, and she looks up at him through wispy pieces ofbright orange. She blinks, and tilts her head, like she’s unsure of her words.It’s an odd, disconcerting expression on her.

Jaal can’t stand it any longer – between theconstant knot of imbalance in his stomach to the discovery of Exaltation, it’sall just much too much – and he reaches out and draws her to him. He wraps hisarms around her slender frame, nearly engulfing her as he holds her close.Hugging or being hugged, he’s so desperate that it doesn’t matter.

She sighs quietly and leans into him, bringingher own arms up around his waist, holding him as tightly as he’s holding her.

Tears spring to his eyes. Too much time haspassed, and her touch is overwhelming and not enough all at once. He rests hischeek atop her head and tightens his embrace, flattening his palms over herback. Her hair is soft and strange, and smells good. Like flowers and freshrain, like comfort.

“Thank you,” he whispers after along while. He doesn’t move to part from her, but she doesn’t move either.

“Any time,” she says, and there’sso much soft conviction in her voice that he knows she means it.

IV.

Victoria is small and warm and soft in hisarms, and Liam is strong and warm and solid at his back. They’re both longasleep, and Jaal’s as tired – even more so – as he was when they climbed intoher bed and curled around each other an hour ago; they feel so good around him, he hardly wants towaste this feeling by sleeping through it. He presses a kiss to her shoulder,letting his lips linger on her skin, and squeezes Liam’s hand, gently so as notto wake him.

She makes a quiet little noise in her sleepand scoots closer to him, and Liam nuzzles his neck with his cold nose. Jaalsmiles, and lets himself start to drift into sleep.

***

Jaal adjusts his arms, settling Ryder moresteadily against his back, and twists his body. The motion is enough to changetheir direction, and his feet hit just above the galley doors, sending themback down the hallway. As they pass the center point, Ryder reaches up and grabsone of the medallions off the underside of the walkway. The door to the cargobay opens, and Vetra and Peebee fly out in a barely-controlled spin. Rydershifts her weight, rolling them out of the way of the other team. She shifts her weight back, straightening them, and Jaal takes them through the door and into the cargo bay for the last challenge.

Despite the gravity change, the boxes andgear forming the walls of the maze have remained mostly in place. They’rethrough the first third of it when the air starts to buzz.

The only warning they get is SAM - Ryder,Jaal; Gil has regained access to the artificial gravity controls - and abrief alarm over the shipwide intercom, and then they fall a foot and a halfonto the deck. Jaal takes the full brunt of it, and grunts.

“You okay?” Ryder asks, and he can hearthe shift in her voice from Obstacle Course Combatant to Doctor. She sits up,straddling his hips, taking her weight off his back and chest.

“Yes,” he says, pressing his palmsto the floor and shifting his weight to bring his knees under him. “Holdon.” She may have switched - however briefly - out of Obstacle Course Combatant,but he has not. He hears Vetra and Peebee arguing about which way to go at thebeginning of the maze.

Ryder hooks her legs on his hips and graspshis shoulders, and he carefully stands to his feet. While he would consider asudden influx of gravity a good excuse for breaking the one player mustalways be giving a piggy-back ride to another rule, he doubts theiropponents would see it as such. 

Especially since Ryder took a rather liberal interpretation of the concept of local gravity by disabling it for the entire ship.

The maze only stymies him once - and Ryderstraightens and sits up tall, peering over the top of the obstacles to directhim out of the corner - and then they’re out and at the ladders.

“They should’ve left the gravity off forthis,” Ryder mutters as she flattens herself against Jaal’s back and hebegins to climb.

Jaal allows himself a glance to the side ashe reaches the top. Vetra’s about halfway up the ladder with Peebee; she’sstarting to slow, but not enough to make their lead comfortable. He tightenshis arms around Ryder’s legs and runs.

Through the cargo bay upper balcony - pastDrack and Cora still trying to navigate the ropes obstacle, somehow having moretrouble now that gravity’s back, and Suvi shouting encouragement from the side,though there no chance for them to even come in second now - and to the upperlevel door, where Liam’s waiting. Jaal turns, and Ryder climbs off of him andonto Liam. As soon as he has a solid grip on her legs, Liam takes off at a deadrun down the length of the ship, Gil and Peebee at his heels. The cargo baydoor closes, shutting off Jaal's view of the end of the race.

Not five seconds later, Kallo comes over theintercom. “We have a winner!”

The door opens again, and Jaal steps forwardand leans against the wall, trying to calm his breath. He waits anxiously forthe cockpit door to open, with Vetra doing the same beside him.

The cockpit door whooshes open, and Jaalgrins wide. Liam steps out, Ryder on his shoulders now, the ugly crown perchedcrooked atop her head.

***

Infoboard Message #304Subject: Gravity

Gravity aboard the Tempest is to remain at 1G (9.807 m/s2) at all times. Peebee’s escape pod is the only exception. {Cora}

You’re just mad because you couldn’t figure out a ropes course. {Liam}

I have read the Initiative handbook, and there is no such rule. {Jaal}

[attached: AIHandbookLatestUpdateCH.pdf] {Cora}

If you’re allowed to make up Initiative-wide rules just because you lost a race, then I’m allowed to charge the fiend. {Ryder}

No. {Liam}