Chapter Text
Jaal Ama Darav: unremarkable scion of a distinguished Havarlian clan. Errand boy to the head of the Resistance. And most recently, abysmal failure at interpreting alien emotions. Another stellar achievement to add to the list, he sighs.
He’d been sure that things were going well. But lately, he can’t get a moment alone with Ryder, to find out what he’s done wrong, or to apologize, or to ask if he should return to Resistance headquarters on Aya, since he clearly makes her so uncomfortable.
And now, as if in mocking answer to his distress, fate has drawn the Tempest back to Kadara, the roiling cesspool of the galaxy. What had Liam called it? “A wretched hive of scum and villainy?” It’s an unusually flowery turn of phrase for Liam, but Jaal wholeheartedly agrees. In fact, among the many beings, angara and alien, he’s discussed the subject with, only Ryder finds Kadara beautiful. The realization twists his stomach painfully.
They’d kissed at length after having that conversation. Passionately. Tenderly. Jaal hadn’t been expecting it. Overcome with emotion, he’d written her a letter that night confessing the depth of his feelings. “My dearest,” it began. Recalling the rest of the letter now makes Jaal burn with shame and regret. He’s no stranger to rejection, but this one hurts more than most.
Kallo’s voice on the comms breaks through his misery. “We’ll be planetside in 20; ready your suits and gear.” Jaal hurries to the cargo bay, aching and anxious and eager. Ryder is already there, armor half on, buffing some minor scratches out of her chest plate with a soft cloth and korkro wax. She doesn’t even glance up at his approach, continuing her task with grim determination.
“Ryder,” he says, his throat tight. “Please tell me what I’ve done to offend you. I would like to set things right.”
“It’s nothing. We’re cool,” she mutters, her cheeks growing red. Ordinarily Jaal finds this human quirk endearing, but today the sight pains him. Like flaming darts burrowing through his chest and searing his viscera.
“Jaal, mate!” Liam bounds noisily into the cargo bay and lands a playful punch on his arm. “You just lost me twenty credits.”
“Pay up, Kosta,” Vetra calls from the mezzanine. “I don’t accept IOUs.”
“What? How?” Jaal shakes his head, puzzled.
“I bet you’d be the last one off the Tempest. Because Kadara, yeah? But Vetra thought we’d find you at our fearless leader’s side.” Liam elbows Ryder and winks.
“Jesus, Liam, not now,” Ryder groans, rolling her eyes.
“Fair enough,” he says with a knowing grin. “Anyway, boss, what’s on the docket today?”
“Just some light recon, geotagging resources, that kinda thing,” Ryder replies. “Addison wants Ditaeon up and running, but Kandros and Tann aren’t willing to commit yet. ‘Lawless exiles, doomed to fail,’ blah de blah blah.”
“So we’re here to prove them wrong,” Liam says, nodding. “Sooner we can establish an outpost here, sooner we can start getting our people back.”
An optimistic view, likely unwarranted. But Jaal keeps this assessment to himself.
“Exactly,” Ryder says. “Liam, wanna tell Cora to be ready in 5?”
“Negative,” Cora yells from the bio lab. “I’m needed on Tempest guard duty. We already had that incident with the Nomad—can’t afford more assets going missing.”
“I said I was sorry!” Gil grouses from the engine room.
Ryder curses softly. “Peebs?”
“No can do!” the asari chirps over the comms. “Poc needs some love today.”
Vetra sidles over with a smirk. “Don’t bother, Ryder. I already told you that Drack and I have a... business meeting this morning. In the market.”
“Guess it’ll be the three of us,” Liam says, grinning again. “Although, y’know, there are messages I’ve been meaning to catch up on... Verand, Bradley...”
“Don’t you dare,” Ryder hisses fiercely. Then, louder: “You’re all dead to me, by the way.”
“Awww, we love you too, Ryder. Have fun with the boys!” Peebee’s sing-song tone crackles over the comms and Jaal is sure there’s a joke he’s missing. The nuances of alien intonation are still tricky for him to interpret.
As Ryder stalks off to ask Gil about the latest upgrades, Jaal turns quizzically to Liam. “Don’t worry, my man,” Liam whispers. “I’ve got your back.”
“I don’t understand,” Jaal says. “Do you know why Ryder is avoiding me?”
Liam looks guilty. “She... um... she may have mentioned it,” he admits. “Nothing bad! But I told her she should talk to you directly, and, well. You know Ryder. Heartfelt conversations are her kryptonite.”
“Is that an Earth mineral?”
“Nevermind,” Liam sighs. “Just... we’re all rooting for you, yeah? It’ll get sorted soon.”
——————
The sun is high in the sky by the time the Nomad is speeding through Kadara’s tortuous mountain passes. Jaal is grateful for the climate control in the rover—the sulfurous outdoor air makes his skin itch and crack—even though it doesn’t filter out the smell.
He longs for the humid, shady jungles of Havarl, fragrant with blossoms and decomposing plant life. And his family—it’s been too long since he’s visited. Sometimes he feels overwhelmed at home, like he’s the only one who hasn’t figured out who he’s supposed to be. But living so far away he misses them painfully, particularly here, surrounded by strangers whose customs baffle him.
“C’mon, Ryder,” Liam is wheedling. “You’ve got to be sick of driving by now.”
“Not a chance!” she shoots back, and Jaal unsuccessfully stifles a laugh.
Liam mock glares at him. “Traitor.”
Jaal shrugs, grinning. “It is, of course, the Pathfinder’s prerogative to drive.”
“THANK YOU, Jaal, that’s what I’ve been saying all along!”
“...provided that there are still components large enough to operate once we’ve reached the bottom of this mountain.”
“Hey!” Ryder protests, as Liam high-fives Jaal with a whoop. “I am GREAT at this! SAM, back me up!”
The AI’s disembodied voice fills the cabin. “Ryder, my default protocols prevent me from telling lies. Are you authorizing a temporary override?”
They laugh uproariously, joyful and unrestrained. “You’re all jerks,” Ryder huffs petulantly, though a smile tugs the corners of her mouth.
“I could get used to this,” Liam says when his giggles subside, wiping a tear away from his eye. “You two are real mates. I mean it.”
Ryder mumbles something Jaal’s translator fails to pick up.
“Thank you, Liam,” Jaal responds earnestly, grasping his shoulder. “When all this is over, you should visit Havarl with me. My family is eager to meet the Milky Way aliens fighting for our cause.”
“Here’s our stop!” Ryder crows, braking so abruptly that their bodies snap forward, pulling the seatbelts taut.
“You did that on purpose!” Liam protests.
“Who knows, maybe I’m just a bad driver.” Ryder’s eyes sparkle impishly.
They clamber out of the Nomad, taking stock of the terrain. The rover is parked on the mossy slope of some gently rising foothills, in the shadow of a vertiginous limestone spire. It’s a good vantage point to assess the valley below, which is dotted with sulfurous geysers, scrub brush, and mining probes.
“Um... Ryder?” Liam asks. “Is the ground supposed to be... shaking like that?”