Late Nights

Chapter 4: A Night in Jack's Dungeon

Commander Shepard's dark blue eyes were engrossed with the cup of coffee being filled by the mess hall coffee machine. The steady steam danced out of the warm liquid like Chambers tangoing with Garrus. Shepard smirked at the memory. He had replayed the clip in his quarters at least six times before trying to sleep. Once again, the effort failed. He ended up spending the entire evening watching training videos on his terminal, reading old messages, and working on his model ships. Not exactly an exciting chapter in the daring life of Commander Shepard, but it was better than tossing and turning in bed.

He had beaten the morning queue for coffee by at least three hours. It seemed rather counterintuitive to be drinking coffee every morning when he had insomnia, but the morning hours didn't seem complete without it. And, at the very least, it kept him alert and ready for anything. Or so he thought.

"Shepard," a gruff voice barked behind him, making the seasoned commander flinch. "I need a word."

Shepard let out a sigh and took a long gulp of his coffee before turning around. Experience had taught him that every time he heard the phrase: "I need a word" at least two weeks' worth of trouble would follow. If he was going cross into the boondocks of the galaxy to search for yet another long lost relative he would, at the very least, need to be properly caffeinated.

Behind him stood Zaeed. The mercenary's yellow and white armor made him stand out among the grey and sliver of the Normandy mess hall. His heavily tattooed arms were folded, his weight on his right leg as he leaned. His pale chiseled face was twisted into a deep scowl. Though frankly, that's how his face always looked. But today, it seemed even worse. Red veins cracked at the corner of his good eye while his glass eye glared daggers at the commander. Shepard took another long sip of his coffee, before turning and reactivating the machine. If Zaeed was involved, he would need an espresso.

"Zaeed," he said amicably. "What can I do you for you?"

"Cut the boy-scout shit," the veteran growled. "This is a business call."

Shepard sighed. "I told you, we'd fly to Zorya, as soon as the schedule allows it."

"This ain't about that. It's about me getting proper night's sleep on this goddamn bucket."

Shepard paused, the coffee maker buzzed signaling his espresso was ready. Something told him, he'd need two cups. "Bad dreams?" the spacer guessed. "I'm not exactly the right person to talk to about that. Chambers' shift should start in the next three hours."

The mercenary made a sound, a gruff mix between a laugh and snort. "Bad dreams? I've been having bad dreams since I was nine. I've learned to live with it. It ain't that. It's that baby krogan of yours and that psycho physic, Subject Zero, or Jack or whatever the fuck she's calling herself."

Shepard wanted to groan again.

Now he needed three cups with some cognac mixed in. A horrible combination but then again, so were Jack and Grunt.

"Oh God, they didn't break anything did they?"

"They broke my goddamn sleep cycle if that's what you mean. Every fucking night that oversized lizard goes down to her dungeon and every night, they keep the whole goddamn deck awake with their yelling!"

Shepard froze. The thought of those two doing anything that involved yelling made the coffee in his stomach work its way up back his throat. He could already taste the bile in his mouth. Vaguely, he wondered how that would work with a human Jack's size and well…. Grunt.

"And….how do you know that they're…..you know…."

"Because each time they're finished, the baby lizard goes back to his tank with a very noticeable bounce in his oafish steps."

"Of course he does…" Shepard muttered. Ever since Grunt had completed his rite of passage, he had been even antsier than when he started. He was eager to go on every groundside mission. Eager to prove his worth. Perhaps since Shepard had been favoring Miranda and Garrus lately, Grunt had found other ways to work off his aggression. He wondered what kind of understanding of reproduction Okeer had instilled Grunt with. Although, knowing krogan….it was better not to ask. Was it too late to call Wrex to give Grunt a….proper understanding of the varrens and pyjaks?

"This is all very….fascinating Zaeed," Shepard said, eying the window of the medical wing. Hopefully, Dr. Chakwas still had her bottle of Ice Brandy out. He would need it sooner rather later. "But, what is it you want me to do about it?"

"You're the commander aren't you? Order them to keep it down! If the destructive bitch wants to test the limits of that tight snatch of hers, that's her business, but she had better not keep the rest of us awake while she's going through her goddamn experimentation phase!"

Shepard rubbed the back of his neck. He'd rather fight another thresher maw on foot than confront this little problem. Still, a well-rested Zaeed was a lot easier to handle than a sleep deprived one. And he was sure that Donnelly and Daniels would appreciate a proper night's rest as well. The commander took a breath and nodded.

"I'll look into it," he said finally.

And that was what brought Shepard to the engineering deck at 3 o'clock in the morning, Earth time. He stood on the landing that would lead him down to Jack's little hidey-hole and he could already hear them.

"Again you oversized reptile bastard!" Jack's distinctive voice was easily carried by the echo that bounced off the metal of the pipes. "And this time I want it faster!"

"We've done this six times already damn it!" Grunt shouted. "I'm ready for more!"

"You'll move on to more when you actually satisfy me, you tiny pyjak! Now do it again!"

"I AM PURE KROGAN! You should be in awe!"

"I'm in awe of how weak your tongue is!"

"I'm weak!? I could crush your spine with a flick of my fingers! I could rip you apart with my shoulder! I AM GRUNT OF CLAN URDNOT, I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE A CHILD!"

"I'll talk to you however I fucking want, weakling!"

A loud crash rang up from the dungeon below, which forced Shepard to rush down the stairs. The commander cursed at himself for not bringing his pistol. Although what use it would be against either of them was questionable, it'd be better than the meat shield he was making of himself.

He turned the corner to see Jack pinned against the pipes, some blood trailing down the side of her head. Grunt's right arm was inches below her windpipe, his eyes glazed over in the blood-rage. Their eyes were locked together, a growl on both their faces.

"Stand down both of you!" Shepard exclaimed.

His voice broke whatever trance was between them, but not enough to detangle them.

"Battlemaster," Grunt said with a slight nod.

"Hey," Jack said causally. "This had better be important, I'm busy."

"Grunt, set her down, now! What's the meaning of this?"

"See what you did, pyjak," Jack said, ignoring him. "You woke the commander, all because you couldn't satisfy."

"Jack….!."

"What?" Jack asked with a shrug. "It's not my fault the baby can't read."

"That's not the-wait….what?"

Grunt slammed her against the pipes again. "I told you not to tell him!"

"The cat's out of the bag now, you damn brat," Jack spat, ignoring the newest cut on her head.

"What the hell's a cat!?"

"Something you'd probably eat," Jack replied.

"Jack! Grunt! Explain, now!"

The two berserkers glanced at their fevered commander then at each other before untangling. Grunt grumbled to himself while staring at the floor. Jack merely looked annoyed, although like Zaeed, that's how she always looked.

"What's there to explain Shepard?" Jack asked with a shrug. "Like I said, the kid can't read for shit."

"I can read!" Grunt bellowed.

"Oh really?" Jack said, tossing a data pad to the krogan. "Read this to the commander!"

"Fine!" Grunt furiously scrolled through several lines, before settling on a passage. The young krogan cleared his throat while squinting at the words on the screen. His massive mouth moved slowly, trying to pronounce each syllable as he went. "Thai….wh…wh…we…were! Thai….were not the o-o-ordin….ordinarie…p….pierimaid-s…sh…shaped….teeth. Thai…were shaped like a m-mahn's fingers w-when they are crisped….like claws. Thai-."

"No, no, no, you stupid pyjak!" Jack shouted, punching the wall. "How many times do I have to fucking tell you! It's not 'thai'! You pronounce it, they! Th-ay! They!"

Grunt snarled. "You told me when there's that that looping 'y' thingy it makes the 'ee' sound!"

"I said sometimes, you dumb lizard! And it's pyramid, not…. whatever the hell you said! That's where the 'y' makes the 'ee' sound!"

Grunt's eyes glossed over with the bloodrage. He hurled the datapad against the wall and stormed towards Jack. "What's the point of having a letter when you say it different ways!"

Jack's biotic aura flared. "I didn't make the rules pyjak!"

"The rules are stupid!"

"You're the one's whose stupid!"

"Enough!" Shepard bellowed. He could already feel a headache pulsing in his skull and a vein seconds away from rupturing. A part of him wanted to laugh, but given his current audience…. that seemed like a ticket straight for a permanent nap. But….at least he would finally get some sleep. The commander squeezed the bridged of his nose. Lord give me strength. "How long has this been going on?" he asked.

His two squad mates glanced at each other, looking for the answer before Jack spoke up. "Eh…probably not long after your crappy visit to the Citadel and the council."

"That was almost three months ago."

"Yep," Jack said with a shrug. "You'd think the baby would be better by now."

"What did you say-!"

"Grunt…."

The tank bred grumbled. "Fine. Sorry…."

"I didn't think you would need lessons, Grunt. I thought you said the tank taught you everything."

"The tank give me audio books," Grunt corrected. "No letters, no structure, no understanding of anything."

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "Not even the natural krogan language?"

"Of course, it taught me that!" Grunt scoffed. "A warrior who can't understand his Battlemaster is a dead one!"

Shepard held up his hands in a futile defense attempt. "I got it, I got it," he said. The last thing he needed was Grunt getting too riled up in this cramped space. "So, why all the effort to learn to read our language?"

Grunt looked away. "My Battlemaster is human. I serve on a human ship. The orders you give aren't always spoken….I will need to understand your written commands if I wish to be an effective weapon."

"I get that, but why not come to me? I would have helped you out."

"Cuz the baby was chicken-shit that's why," Jack put in.

"I AM GRUNT OF CLAN URDNOT! I FEAR NOTHING!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I heard you the last four times."

"So…. you picked Jack as your teacher…." Shepard said. "You couldn't ask Chambers? It's her job to make sure the crew is comfortable."

Jack scoffed. "That ginger would have pissed herself if the baby came to her for lessons." She paused before adding, "Or gotten her panties wet."

"Besides, this one is good with words," Grunt said. "After a mission, I saw her scribbling one of those short-lined word things…."

"What?"

"I told you, it's called a poem! And I told you not to tell anyone, damn it!"

"Hah! Not fun is it!" Grunt shot back.

"You write poetry, Jack?"

"You ready to get fileted Shepard?"

"Fair enough." Shepard sighed. Unsure where to go from here. "Look, I appreciate you trying to help out Jack, but what's with the yelling?"

Jack shrugged. "It's only way to teach this stubborn pile of scales. Besides, he's making progress. Last month he could barely pronounce 'appropriate.'"

"HA! See!"

"Don't let it go to your head pyjak!" Jack snapped. There's still a shit-ton more you need to learn!"

"She's a good teacher Shepard. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear she was krogan."

"You call ramming your teaching into the wall a good one?"

"Of course, wouldn't you?" Grunt said as if it were obvious. "A teacher who doesn't push you, who doesn't push to the limits of the blood rage is no teacher at all, but a coward trying to get you killed."

Shepard rubbed down a vein. Krogan logic. One day, he swore to himself. One day he would fully understand this species. One day. But obviously not tonight. "All right, if it's helping you, Grunt, you should keep up the lessons. But not so late. You can come down during the mess hours so you're not disturbing anyone. It can never get this heated again though. Is that understood."

"Yes, Battlemaster."

"Whatever."

Shepard held in a sigh, relived to have settled this manner. "Can't believe Zaeed thought you guys were…. never mind."

"What? Fucking?" Jack rolled her eyes. "Grow up, Shepard. Besides, I've a tried it few times, it ain't all that."

Shepard blinked. "Thank you for that new facet of information Jack."

"No problem."

"I should go."

"You'd better, we still have Edger Allen Poe to get through tonight," Jack replied.

"Save it for tomorrow," Shepard commanded. "For now, library's closed."

The two berserkers groaned but complied. Grunt sulked up the stairs, muttering pyramid as he went. Jack laid back down on the steel platform, scrolling through new audiobooks to buy, tracing the words in the air.

"EDI," Shepard called as he climbed the stairs to the elevator. "Did you get this one?"

"I did commander," the AI replied. "I also have all of Grunt's previous encounters with Jack over the last three months."

"Send them to my private terminal," Shepard said. "Do you have records of Jack's poetry on file as well?"

"Yes commander. She has written over 20 poems since boarding. She has submitted four under a pseudonym."

"Send me copies," Shepard said.

"Very well commander, logging you out."

"Pseudonym…" Shepard repeated five times before reaching his quarters. He imagined Grunt throwing a fit the second he ran into the word. Tearing into walls, ripping apart components over the unorthodox nature of it.

Shepard froze at the thought.

"EDI? How soon can we upgrade the Normandy's interior armor?"

Next Time: Shepard wonders why Samara wanders the corridors late every night.