2183.

Time travel.

Anna lies awake in bed, long after Dr. Chakwas has dimmed the lights and left the med bay. This isn't Kansas anymore, she snarks to herself, but. It's not funny when it's her.

When it's real.

She looks around her. It's a regular-looking infirmary. Smells right, too. Antiseptic. Obsessively clean things. If she closes her eyes she could pretend she was in the university infirmary—

Except she wasn't. Was she. Because she's in fucking space and a hundred sixty-five years away from what she knows.

Lolo, Lola…Maria.

She closes her eyes, sees her grandparents' faces as she last saw them, wrinkled with age and laugh-lines. Lola with her perfect lipstick and eyeliner and fluffy white hair. Lolo with the brown skin and calluses. What did they think when I disappeared? What happened to them?

Maria. Maria.

I don't want to think about this. Fuck it. I'm in a spaceship. I'm going exploring.

She swings her legs over the bed railing. The floor is cold, but she sees a couple of pairs of hospital slippers by the door. After a moment of thought, she brings the thick comforter with her, draping it around her shoulders like a cape.

She puzzles over the door for a while, because it doesn't have a knob, before realizing it has a pad at the side. She doesn't know what to do with that either, but she presses on it and the door hisses open.

The future is weird.

Just as she's about to step out, another door hisses open and someone exclaims in surprise.

She whirls.

Standing on the opposite side of the med bay is an alien!

"Oh my god!" Anna shrieks, and scrambles away from the alien as fast as she can. She hits one of the beds with her hip. "Fuck! Oh my god, oh my god—"

The alien looks passingly like a human, but is terrifyingly inhuman also: instead of skin, it has scales, and instead of regular human skin color, it's vibrantly blue. Its head is deformed, also: earless, with what looked like short tentacles growing out the back. It towers over Anna, hands outstretched and mouth open, issuing high whistle notes and some clicks.

Oh my god, it's an alien life form that possessed one of the humans here and will proceed to slaughter the entire ship! Anna panics.

The alien continues to whistle, trilling at Anna.

She begins edging away, not making any sudden movements. The alien trills again. In the notes Anna detects a sort of soothing tone, the kind of sound you would use to calm down a terrified animal.

It would be more soothing if the pitch wasn't so high it hurts my ears! Anna thinks hysterically.

When it doesn't approach her or do anything like lunge at her and bite her neck or something, Anna slowly relaxes. Seeing her shoulders drop, the alien emits some more whistle notes, but lower this time, and yes, that definitely sounds soothing now. Like a wordless, high-pitched song.

"Uh, hello," Anna tries.

The alien sings back at her in what sounds like greeting.

"I guess…you're not going to kill me?"

The alien shakes its head violently. The next notes it sings don't sound anything like no no no, but Anna figures that's pretty much what it means.

"Um. Okay." Anna suddenly becomes very aware of her situation: dressed in a hospital gown and slippers, wrapped in a comforter, talking with a blue alien. Well, sort of talking. "You're…not human."

The alien shakes its head.

She scans the alien up and down. It's really tall, at least compared to five foot Anna—wait, probably not it, now that they've established the alien is intelligent and not murderous. The alien looks like a female human, except for the blueness and the tentacle-head and the way its, their? language doesn't sound anything like she's ever heard.

Alien, Anna, she reminds herself. What makes you think their language would be familiar?

"You can understand me?"

The alien nods, and indicates their…neck, she supposes, a neck which is all ridged and scaled.

"Yeah, see, I don't know what that means," she informs the alien. "You can understand me, but I can't understand you. Sorry."

The alien furrows its—brows? They have markings above their eyes that look like eyebrows, but the markings don't have actual hair. Then the pitch of the alien's song changes, into something lower, with individual syllables pronounced very slowly.

Anna shakes her head. "Nope. Still don't get it."

The alien droops, then lights up again. Slowly they pronounce, "Lee-ya-rah," while indicating themself.

"Lee-ya-rah," Anna imitates as closely as she can. The alien nods, and purple lips spread into a smile. "Leeyarah," they repeat.

"Leeyarah."

"Liara."

"Liara."

The alien nods enthusiastically. "Liara," they say again, pointing at oneself. Then they point to her.

"Anna," Anna says, guessing the alien is asking her name. She points to the alien, "Liara." Then to herself, "Anna."

"Anna," the alien repeats. "Anna." Then they point to their self again: "Asari."

"Asari?" Anna parrots.

They point to Anna, and say carefully, "Hyoo-man." Then to their self: "Asari."

Anna gets it. She points to herself: "Human." Then to the alien: "Asari."

The alien nods again, even more enthusiastically.

"Anna. Human."

"Liara. Asari."

They stare at each other for a moment, then Anna says, "Pleased to meet you, Liara," and sticks her hand out. Liara looks at it for a moment, puzzled, then understanding visibly dawns on them and they shake hands.

"I guess asari don't shake hands?" Anna says. Liara says again, "Human," and Anna nods. "Guess it's a human thing. How do asari greet each other?"

Liara looks uncomfortable, and shakes their head.

"Cool, cool, okay, if you don't want to tell me that's fine," Anna says. What does one even say to an alien? "I was just about to go explore the rest of the ship. Do you want to come with?"

Liara gestures to their stomach, then mimes eating.

"You were going to get food? Cool, okay."

The two of them pad out into what looks like a deserted mess hall—at least they have tables and chairs in the future, Anna snarks to herself. Everything is done up in sleek blacks and silvers, lit in blue. It looks appropriately space-like.

It kind of reminds her of that one visual novel, This, My Soul. Yeah, the SSV Normandy looked just like the ship in that game.

Liara heads to a kitchen-like area just off the mess hall, and Anna is kind of surprised to realize she can recognize almost everything there. There's a counter, an electric stove, some cabinets where she supposes all the pots and pans are…it doesn't look much different from a regular, "modern" kitchen, honestly.

Some things don't change, I guess.

There's also a huge refrigerator. She touches it, but doesn't open it—she probably isn't supposed to be messing around with stuff in the freaking spaceship.

Liara opens a cupboard and pulls out a couple of bars of…something. Anna can't read the label on front, but they look like protein bars to her.

Liara offers her one, but Anna asks, "Can humans eat what you eat?"

More song-like speech. Anna stares blankly at Liara.

"Um, if we're not sure if I can eat that, I'd rather not," she demurs.

Distressed high-pitched noises.

"No, no, it's fine, I don't mind," Anna attempts to soothe the asari. This whole one-way understanding thing is difficult. "Liara, how come you can understand me but I can't understand you?"

Liara indicates their ridged neck again.

"I have no idea what that means," Anna says.

"It means she has a sub-dermal translator implant," Commander Shepard says from behind them.

Liara jerks, dropping the protein bar and exclaiming something in their native language. Commander Shepard laughs.

"Liara, Liara, relax," she says. "Sorry I startled you."

Incredibly high-pitched whistle notes. Anna cringes at the assault on her eardrums.

Commander Shepard leans against the kitchen counter, amused dark eyes surveying the two of them. Liara picks up the protein bar, their face flushed entirely purple.

"You're out of bed pretty late, Miss Salvador," Commander Shepard comments, turning to Anna. She taps at her wrist, and a glowing orange hand blooms around her arm. "It's 14:32 Earth time."

Anna does a quick bit of mental math. 2:32 AM.

"Couldn't sleep," she offers. "The whole…situation. You know."

Commander Shepard nods. "This must be very strange for you," God, understatement of the—she's not even in the same century! "Is there anything I can do to help, Miss Salvador?"

"You sound like my professors," Anna says. "Call me Anna, please."

"Anna," Commander Shepard says. "Call me Shepard. Is there anything I can help you with? Any questions you have?"

"Well," Anna begins, "what did you mean by sub-dermal translator implant?"

Liara says something to Shepard, and Shepard nods. "You don't have a translator, Anna, so you're hearing Liara speak in Thessian." Liara says something else. "She says she tried Galactic with you, but you didn't understand that either."

"I speak two languages, but both of them are human," Anna says. "Liara does know a couple words of English, though. Well. She knows the word human, at least."

"Tell you what," Shepard says. "I'll make some hot chocolate and play translator, as well as give you Galactic Events 101, to get you up to speed."

"Thank you," Anna says gratefully. She sinks into the chair, drapes the comforter more comfortably around her, and waits.

As Shepard bustles around making three cups of hot chocolate, she begins explaining.

Apparently, there are twelve intelligent, spacefaring species ("So far," Commander Shepard cautions her, "there could be more,") in the Milky Way galaxy, namely the asari, turians, salarians, humans, hanar, drell, volus, elcor, krogan, quarians, batarians, and vorcha. "Well, the vorcha is debatable."

Liara says something indignantly, and Shepard laughs. "Okay, fair." At Anna's questioning look, Shepard says, "Liara just told me that that was mean to the vorcha—vorcha are a short-lived species who didn't really develop their own space travel, but rather stowed away on ships—but anyway, what Liara was telling me was: vorcha are an intelligent species, they're just…"

Liara says something again, and Shepard finishes, "Violent."

Anna is deeply confused, but motions for Shepard to continue.

"And since there are a lot of species, there are a lot of languages," Shepard says. "So there developed a galaxy-wide technology for people to communicate. It's a translator, injected right under your skin so you can understand everyone else."

Liara indicates their neck again. "That's where Liara's sub-dermal implant is. Mine's behind my ear."

"I was wondering what the galactic lingua franca was," Anna mused.

"It's creatively called Galactic," Shepard tells her.

These twelve races are all governed by a galaxy-wide Council, which makes its capital in the space station, the Citadel.

"So there are twelve races on the Council?" Anna asks.

"No, there are just three."

"But—there are twelve races?"

"The asari, salarians, and turians are the top dogs of the galaxy," Shepard tells her. "They're the ones who get to decide the laws for everyone else. The rest of us just have ambassadorships, embassies—some don't even have that much. The krogan, the quarians, don't have embassies. Humans do."

"But how is that fair? Everyone should have a voice in legislature! I mean, do these…asari salarians turians even understand the unique needs of the races of the galaxy?

"I mean, not even that! We have an ambassador, right? How can they speak for all seven billion—wait, is it seven billion—"

"Thirteen billion humans."

"—thirteen billion humans in the universe? There are so many of us, how can they even—"

Liara breaks in, saying something in staccato whistles. It goes on for a while, Shepard's face changing expressions from understanding to blank-faced to resigned.

"The common view," Shepard begins, "is that races must earn their right to sit on the Council. What Liara was saying was that the asari discovered the Citadel first, and are technically the oldest, most advanced race, so…"

Shepard shrugs.

"According to Liara, humans are seen as the bullies of the galaxy, Anna," Shepard tells her. "It's only been about thirty years since the First Contact War—" ("There was a war?" "Yes.") "–and yet humanity wants a seat on the Council, wants a say in governance. The other races I mentioned, like the volus, the hanar, the elcor? They've been around for centuries and yet they're not on the Council."

Anna subsides, not really knowing what to say. She just today discovered there were races other than her own that were sapient—she'd have to take some time to absorb that, before she went meddling into politics.

There is a galaxy full of things you don't understand, Anna, she tells herself. Learn first before you say things!

(I don't want to learn, I want to go home, I have a paper to write!)

Silence for a moment, as Shepard gets up to serve them all hot chocolate. After a while sipping chocolate, it's the commander who breaks the silence again.

"I didn't realize you were so politically-minded, Anna," she says.

Anna laughs. "I'm a journalism major. Was. God, I don't know. It was basically my job to keep up with stuff…I'm one sixty-five years behind on the news, oh my god."

At least you don't have to pass that article, she thinks dryly.

Oh my god I'm one sixty five years away from everything I know and everyone I love is dead, she thinks hysterically.

Pushing the thought away like a repression champion, she manages a smile at Commander Shepard. "Is our ambassador any good?"

Commander Shepard's wrinkled nose tells her the answer.

Anna sighs. "No matter when, politicians are trash."

More silence, then Anna asks the question that's been burning at her—well, no. Not the question, but one of the questions she'd wanted to ask. (The rest she pushes away: not now, Anna, not now.) "Is my country okay?"

"Okay how?"

"Like…did we get absorbed by China?"

"The Philippines?" Shepard says. "No. We're still sovereign."

"We…?"

"Oh. My grandfather was Filipino," she says.

"Oh, really?" Well, Shepard does look Southeast Asian, even though she's also quite tall; not as tall as Liara, but pretty damn tall. "That's…cool," Anna says lamely. "Do you speak any Filipino at all?"

"No, not really. And I've never been there. My mothers were Alliance military, so I grew up in space."

Mothers. Anna thrills at the casual mention of same-sex marriages. She ventures again, "And same-sex marriage is okay in the future?"

"Yes. Honestly, the big issue now, at least for humanity, is different-species relationships," Commander Shepard says. "Some human nations and religions don't recognize different-species relationships."

Out of the corner of her eye, Anna sees Liara flush deep purple again.

"What about you, Liara?" Anna asks. "What's your stance on interspecies romance?"

Liara glances at Shepard, and their blush grows even purpler. Then she says something. Shepard laughs.

"Do you really want to get into asari reproduction?" she asks Anna. "Actually, I just learned about asari reproduction a few days ago—Liara enlightened me."

"Enlightened—"

Incredibly distressed high-pitched noises from Liara.

"No, no, not like that," Shepard dismisses, laughing easily. "I'll give you a datapad or something about it, but in essence: asari are generally very okay with interspecies romance. Actually, I don't know about other races who expressly forbid it, but then again I don't really know a lot about other races. All I know is that there are some humans who don't recognize it."

"Oh. I guess no matter when, people always find something to criticize and forbid," Anna says.

"Amen," another voice sounds.

The three of them turn. It's pink and white armor woman—Ashley, if she remembers correctly.

"I wouldn't have thought you'd defend different-species relationships, Ashley," Shepard says jokingly. "Planning to kiss a turian anytime soon?"

"Ma'am."

"I'm just saying, Ash."

Ashley turns to Anna. "Hey, I didn't get to introduce myself earlier. Ashley Williams."

"Anna Salvador," Anna says.

Ashley nods to Liara coolly. "Doctor T'Soni."

"Liara's a doctor?" Anna asks. "Medical? Or…?"

"She studies the Protheans," Shepard says. Anna opens her mouth to ask what Protheans are, but before she can say anything a clipped British voice calls out, "And what are you doing out of bed, Miss Salvador?"

"Doc Chakwas," Shepard says, nodding to the gray-haired doctor, whose arms are crossed. "Care to join us? Just catching Anna up on, oh, two hundred years of galactic history."

Liara makes a questioning sound.

"Oh, right, we didn't tell you," Shepard realizes. She looks at Anna, eyebrows raised. "Can we…?"

Anna shrugs expressively.

"Galactic history will have to wait until the morning cycle," Dr. Chakwas says sternly. "To bed, Miss Salvador. I won't have you aggravating that injury, and besides we don't know the side effects of your…situation."

"Sorry, doctor. I'll be right there. Bye, guys," Anna says, feeling very much like a child told to come home by her mother.

"Good night, Anna," Shepard and Ashley say. Liara says something that Anna assumes is also a good night.

Then she is chivvied back to the med bay, her shoulder wound rechecked, then told very sternly to go to sleep.

So she does. Her dreams are filled with star-speckled white laboratories and blue aliens in labcoats.