literature

Cause and Effect 42

Deviation Actions

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Literature Text

--Foreign--
--
Corporal Shepard's first impression of her new home port, Arcturus Station, was not a good one. Arcturus might be a wonder of engineering and space-proof design, a benchmark in human expansion into deep space, but it still did not feel remotely natural. In fact, it was as foreign as Mars to a Mindoiran, as the old saying went. She knew space stations, she spent a certain amount of time on them during any given year; it was part of being a spacer. Being here was not a novel experience. Far from it.

What was novel was staying on the station or more than a day or a few hours. Taking the rapid transit shuttle-to the commissary, or walk down several hallways to get to the NEX for small household necessities-was novel.

No sky, no fresh air, no weather-just tubes and tunnels.

Taking note of the laundromat, the clinic, the racquetball courts all made her feel as though she were some sort of alien, foreign to the station, as she tried to remember which tubes ran where, which tunnels diverted from the main drags, where transit lines crisscrossed. Unfamiliarity made both she and the station foreigners to each other.

The nonsensical thought eased the not-quite culture shock. She would miss being able to go run outside, on real ground-but she hated being groundside to begin with. The semi-padded track down at MWR would suffice, even if it meant no weather and no wind.

The overhead lights, and lack of scenery outside the windows of the station furthered her disorientation. How strange, and she paused as she carried her groceries back to her small apartment, shared with one of her shipmates, to look out into the vastness of infinity. Almost like space walking without the suit. Shepard would have rather died than admit she found the pull of space hypnosis incredibly strong.

Space on a station was at a premium, so the apartment was small, almost claustrophobic. And yet, unlike on a planet with real gravity, sky, and winds, the tight quarters gave a feeling of insulation, of safety. Like an egg yolk in the shell.

Shepard shifted her groceries more securely in her arms, knowing if O'Conner was still alive, there was no way she would have been able to make the trip to the commissary and back without being dragged to five or six other stops either for fun, or to satisfy O'Conner's irrepressible curiosity.

Maybe it would not be such a bad idea to follow O'Conner's example, and investigate this very foreign place. This was, after all, the heart of Fifth Fleet. The number of ships docked at the spaceport indicated a lot of traffic coming and going. She thought she saw, at one point, an asari ship-but could not be sure. The Alliance was cautious about nonhumans, but not exactly insular. And the asari seemed to get along with everyone-more or less.

Shepard shook her head. Krogan, she could deal with. They were scary, though she would never admit it, but she could deal with them. Turians were intimidating, but she could lay claim to a similar reputation, being a marine. Asari were weird, and they made her uncomfortable. Too often she got the feeling they could hear her thoughts echoing around, just pick them right out of the air.

Which was silly. Especially for a marine.

Shepard unlocked the apartment, unloading her purchases into the fridge. Lt. Evenstone, from stationside housing administration had, in the brief moments they spoke before she left Shepard to settle in, pointed out learning to live stationside was no more difficult than learning to live near the North Pole.

Shepard supposed this must mean something similar to getting used to month-long days and nights, and not to the perpetually cold weather. Though, now she thought of it, her feet were still cold. Spacer Syndrome struck again, but at least it was familiar, if a little uncomfortable. Uncomfortable and eased by thicker socks.

For a few moments, Shepard teetered in uncertainty, then grabbed her cover-Station Protocols demanded a cover while in the halls, or any place that, planetside, would be considered open air. Sleeping on a station always made her uncomfortable-something about drifting in space with only a manmade shell of who knew what kind of alloys between her and the great vacuum.

The long corridor, with its slightly rubbery flooring, led out of the housing blocks. Unlike groundside blocks, these were not stacked one atop another, accessed by stairwells and fire escapes every few meters. The only stairwells leading up were at the front of the housing block. The housing block reminded her very much of several pieces of corrugated cardboard stacked up, accessible by stairs at the open ends.

It was the closest simile she could find, and not a very good one.

But as foreign as the bustle of 'downtown Arcturus' was, the bustle retained the familiarity of any center of any base she ever saw. People coming and going. There were fewer children, fewer dependents. She saw no nonhumans, and wondered if the alien ship wasn't a trick of the light and darkness found in space.

"Excuse me! Corporal?"

Shepard stopped, turning sharply. A little private-barely eighteen form the look of her-saluted. "Yes?" Shepard returned the gesture.

"I was wondering, do you know which way to the NEX? I'm…"she looked around helplessly. "…lost."

Shepard repressed a smile. "You know where the O-Club is?" The private shook her head. "Okay, you're going to go up the street-walkway-until you see the O-Club, you can't miss it. Go left, away from the Club, you'll run into the NEX from there."

Listening to herself, Shepard had to repress another smile. Listen to her, talking as though she has always been here. As though nothing about this post was foreign to her. Maybe a base really was like any other base, with or without an atmosphere, a biosphere, or real ground underfoot.
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lesleyh2012's avatar
Dun-dun-dun!....Jump-Zero! If I hadn't started playing the first Mass Effect again I would never have known...