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I. The Pathfinder
Umi’s seen a lot of shit in her day. She tended bar on Omega, for goddess’ sakes, she’s not some bright-eyed two-hundred-year-old still wet behind the tentacles. So tending bar at Kralla’s Song is a natural choice, even if she kinda hates it. Today is no exception. A krogan merc tries to stiff her on the bill and she has to get tough to claim what she’s owed. Luckily, she’s good at her job, and understands the persuasive impact of a well-placed knife. Everyone pays sooner or later.
Word around the port is that a human Pathfinder has landed on Kadara, the first official Nexus representative to make contact since the mutiny and exile. Customers have been wondering what this Pathfinder will be like and whether she’ll extend an olive branch to the exiles on behalf of the Initiative. Umi doesn’t know or care. It’s the same shit, whoever’s pulling the strings. Sloane, Tann, the Charlatan: equally unimportant to her daily existence.
A regular saunters over to her bar, two-bit swindler by the name of Vidal. Umi pours his usual, a pair of whiskeys served neat, though if his current charm offensive is any indication she’ll be chasing someone else down for the tab. Again. Today’s mark is a female human Umi’s never seen before, whose expensive custom armor screams outsider. As expected, before long Vidal walks out with a wink, leaving the newcomer at a loss.
“Hey—you gotta pay,” Umi calls forcefully.
Startled, the stranger transfers the credits via omnitool. “Keep the change.”
“Always do,” Umi replies, unimpressed.
Nexus type, she scoffs silently, scrubbing down the bar. This planet’s gonna chew her up and spit her out like a rylkor stalking its prey.
——————
II. The Crisis Specialist
A human male in Initiative civvies strolls into Kralla’s Song alone. It’s like he’s playing tourist in the ritziest nightclub on the Citadel, the way he sizes up the joint. If he starts taking pics with his omnitool Umi’s throwing him out.
“Nice place you’ve built here. Real impressive,” he says. “Vortex back on the Nexus has nothing on this.” He sticks out a hand with a smile. “Liam Kosta.”
She ignores the outstretched hand. “Mm-hmm. What are you having?”
“Surprise me,” he replies, grinning cheekily.
Umi rolls her eyes, hard. If there’s one thing she can’t stand, it’s this brand of relentless optimism and can-do spirit. She slides him a ryncol-based cocktail after taking his payment up front. He’s certainly in for a surprise, if only in terms of the intensity of the hangover he’ll be nursing tomorrow.
——————
III. The Rebel Lieutenant
A tall, formally-dressed angara is sulking at the side of the bar. Umi’s not sure why he doesn’t just leave. Meeting someone, probably. Sure enough, the human Pathfinder shows up and strides over to talk with him. Umi notices that her fancy armor is already more scuffed and dented since the morning. She eavesdrops casually on their conversation—plenty of people are interested in the Pathfinder’s movements.
“Hey, Jaal, enjoying Kadara?”
“I’m uncomfortable here, Ryder,” the angara replies, enunciating every word. “I’m trying to be happy, but I’m not doing a good job.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Pathfinder Ryder says, just loud enough for Umi to overhear. “We’re going to be staying at least a few days while I sort things out.”
The angara groans loudly. “Am I needed for anything, or can I stand here and imagine taking a Scourge bath? It would be an improvement.”
“Jaal! Keep your voice down!” she hisses, blushing brightly.
“Why?” he demands. “I’m not ashamed of my feelings.”
Umi suppresses a snort. She likes this one. After the Pathfinder leaves, she sends Jaal a drink on the house. She’s pretty sure it won’t even make him sick.
——————
IV. The Doctor
“Umi?” It’s a familiar voice, but one she hasn’t heard in the past 600 years asleep and 18 shitty months awake in a new galaxy, give or take.
Umi looks up immediately, emotions whirling. “Lexi.” She maintains her composure with difficulty. It had been a mutual break-up, they’d both agreed that Lexi was going places Umi didn’t want to follow. Except then, against her better judgment, she did. Threw caution to the wind and hitched a ride to Andromeda on the Nexus because she couldn’t bear the thought of giving Lexi up forever. “What are you doing here?”
Lexi sighs. “I could ask you the same, but... I won’t. I saw your name on the exile list a few months ago.” She looks away. “I... was hoping you’d be ok.”
“Always am,” Umi replies brusquely. “But I didn’t mean in Andromeda, per se: what are you doing in my bar?”
“Ah. Yes,” Lexi says, suddenly businesslike. “As the medical officer in charge of the Tempest and its crew, I’m requesting that you serve only approved alcohols to them. Particularly the humans.” She wrinkles her nose as if smelling something unpleasant. “Kosta has been... worse for the wear since visiting your establishment. Don’t think I’ve forgotten the effects of a ryncol slammer.”
Umi grins in spite of herself. “That was a good night.”
Lexi laughs. “For you, maybe! Some celebration it turned out to be.”
It knocks the wind out of her for a moment. Lexi’s laugh: the greatest sound in any galaxy, hands down. “You had just passed your boards! You needed to make up for a couple decades’ worth of studying.”
“I suppose I did tell you to surprise me,” Lexi concedes.
Both of them fall silent, unsure of how to move forward.
“Anyway,” Lexi says eventually, “please go easy on the crew? For me?”
Umi groans. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Take care, Umi.” She turns to leave, but pauses. “Would you mind... if I... came back sometime?”
Umi shrugs. “It’s a free planet, T’Perro. No one’s stopping you.”
——————
V. The Bruiser
The old krogan is a fixture at Kralla’s Song by now, and the only member of Team Pathfinder Umi will mix cocktails for without hesitation. The first time he tries the ryncol slammer, his eyes light up. “Nice work, kid. Most of you squishy aliens don’t know your way around a real drink.”
She twirls her knife casually. “Wanna keep your plates intact, old timer? Name’s Umi. Not ‘kid’, ‘honey’, ‘blue goddess’, or any other clever nickname you might dream up.”
He roars with laughter. “Drack, Clan Nakmor. Apologies, Umi.”
From that moment on, she’s made a friend. He’ll stop by after excursions into the badlands, ready to drink and bend her ear with the latest exploits of Team Pathfinder. Umi listens for information at first—it’s as good as currency on Kadara—but she has to admit after a while that she misses Drack’s war stories when the Tempest is away.
Eventually she’s comfortable enough to ask the question that’s been gnawing at her for weeks. “Drack, I saw how Tann and the Nexus mistreated your people during the mutiny. Why are you helping them?”
He chuckles. “Honestly, I wasn’t planning on it.” He takes another swig of his ryncol slammer. “But Ryder’s got a way of making you believe in the cause. She’s pretty bold for someone so squishy.”
Umi smiles wistfully. “Yeah. I knew someone like that once.”
There’s a sudden gleam in Drack’s eye that worries her a bit. “Say no more, friend. I’ve been there.”
Before Umi can deny that she knows what he’s talking about, a new patron appears at his side. “Ryder!” Drack exclaims, slapping his companion on the back. “Drinks are on me, Umi. I told you how Ryder rescued my scouts, right?”
Umi keeps the whiskey and ryncol flowing. The Pathfinder looks like she’s had a rough day, and Umi can sympathize. She also looks like she needs only the flimsiest excuse to unleash her frustrations on the rest of the lowlifes in the joint, which puts Umi on edge. “If you’re gonna fight, take it outside,” she warns.
“No promises, Umi,” Drack says with a grin. “But in case we need patching up...” He sends a Tempest contact frequency to her omnitool. And... was that a WINK?
The brawl is even worse than Umi feared. As expected, some idiot with a grudge mouths off to Ryder, and fists fly. Soon his friends have also decided that they value reputation over bodily safety, and the fight begins in earnest. Umi hunkers down behind the bar, unwilling to jeopardize her standing with any of Kadara’s many factions by actively choosing a side. But a few times she clubs an unwary participant who topples too close to her bar. Gotta keep the inventory safe.
She almost thinks it’s over, until Drack roars out, “Any other sorry bastards want a piece?” The remaining patrons circle him and Ryder, baring their teeth or shouting curses. Ryder, who‘s wearing only Initiative civvies today, is already bruised, bloodied, and swaying a bit. Umi thinks she might bow out. But the Pathfinder just cracks her knuckles and spits blood on the floor. “Come at me, fuckers,” she growls. Umi is simultaneously amused, impressed, and irritated. If Ryder dies in her bar, Umi can kiss any shot she might ever have with Lexi goodbye. And so, with great reluctance, she taps her omnitool to call the frequency Drack sent her.
“Summoning Lexi T’Perro, Tempest chief medical officer, to Kralla’s Song, Kadara Port. Priority: urgent.”
Lexi arrives within 10 minutes, slightly out of breath, just after the brawl ends, flanked by Kosta and Jaal. Ryder is staggering, held upright by Drack, and the floor is littered with unconscious bodies. Lexi scans the bar, and Umi can track on her face the progression from incredulity to anger, before she masks this emotion with a veneer of professionalism.
“Ryder. How badly are you hurt?” she asks briskly.
Ryder half-scoffs, half-giggles, and attempts to wave Lexi away. “Fine, doc, gonna walk it off.”
“You will do no such thing,” Lexi responds, voice steely. “Drack, I’ll need to check you out as well. Please escort the Pathfinder to the medbay and wait for me there?”
The krogan opens his mouth to respond and Lexi cuts him off. “I have absolutely no qualms about pinging Kesh this instant with an account of your behavior. Jaal, please join them to make sure there are no detours.” The trio leaves.
Kosta grimaces nervously when Umi glances his way. “I’ve got no hard feelings, yeah, Henon? Just gonna... wait over here till you’re done with the doc.”
And then they’re alone. More or less. Umi is suddenly very aware of the flutter in the pit of her stomach, the sweatiness of her palms.
Lexi leans on the bar, tired and frustrated. “Thank you, Umi. I wish you’d called a little sooner—“ she gestures to the floor, “but no serious harm done.”
Umi nods. “Wasn’t a problem.”
“How did you get my frequency, anyway?”
“Drack. He... may have winked?”
Lexi laughs, genuinely, and for a moment the cares fade from her beautiful face. “That sly old pyjak. I knew it was suspicious that he kept asking if I had anyone special in my life.”
Umi swallows and looks at her feet. “I know you’ve got work to do. But... will you come back? Next time you’re free?”
“Of course! I just... I didn’t think you wanted me to.” She reaches across the bar and squeezes Umi’s hand. “Till then?”
——————
VI. The Love of Her Life
It’s after hours the next time Lexi shows up. She’s carrying an unmarked metal bottle, and Umi has to laugh.
“Bringing your own booze to my bar? That hurts, Lexi.”
“Can you really blame me?” she teases. “But no, this is for you, actually. Corn whiskey from our engineer, Gil.”
“I’ve got something for you, too,” Umi smiles, sliding a cup across the bar. “Been saving it for a rainy day. And since it doesn’t rain properly on Kadara, I suppose this’ll have to do.”
Lexi sniffs the cup and takes an experimental swig. Her eyes widen. “By the goddess, where did you get elasa? I never thought I’d taste it again.”
“Had a feeling you’d appreciate it,” Umi replies. “That poem always reminded me of you: ‘I was restless till Thessia called me home.’”
Lexi sniffles, and a tear rolls down to the tip of her nose. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” Umi stumbles. “I didn’t mean to—“
Lexi wipes her eyes and shakes her head. “It’s ok, Umi. It’s just... this galaxy hasn’t really worked out the way I thought it would.” She lets out a deep breath. “I don’t know if I’m cut out for it. And... it’s lonely, you know?”
Umi nods. “I know.”
“And there’s no going back, not ever. What if we made a mistake coming here?”
Umi grins wryly. “Don’t think that hasn’t occurred to me.”
Lexi laughs softly. “You might as well say it. ‘I told you so, Lexi.’ I can tell that’s what you’re thinking.”
Umi cups her hand gently, gazing fondly at Lexi. “Never.” She hesitates, and then the words come spilling out. “In the eighteen shitty months since I’ve been here, my only regret has been letting you walk away in the first place. I should have been at your side all along, the way you wanted.”
Lexi shakes her head. “If I’d listened to you, we could be on Thessia now, enjoying our twilight years together.”
“Or scraping by on a garbage station like Omega,” Umi snorts. “Sure, I was scared to follow you. But what were we leaving, really?”
Lexi squeezes her hand. “You’ve always known what to say, Umi.”
“And you’ve always dreamed big enough for both of us,” Umi replies softly. “You’re all the home I need, whatever the galaxy.”
Lexi leans across the bar and kisses her tenderly. Her lips are a little chapped, just the way Umi remembers, and her hands are cool caressing Umi’s cheek. “You know I still love you,” she whispers earnestly.
“Well, thank the goddess for that,” Umi teases. “You’ve always needed me to show you how to have fun.”
“Wiseass,” Lexi laughs. “Evidently I have to prove you wrong. Want to get out of here?”
Umi’s heart feels so full she thinks it might burst. “I thought you’d never ask.”