I needed some bouncing Veetor.
Veetor’Nara is not a warrior. He knew that before Horizon, and the whole Fleet knows it now. Veetor is a conduit, a reactive element, a bundle of nerves barely held together by his suit, the visor shutting out the world that presses in too fast and too close. When he lands on the homeworld, all he feels is a growing nausea. It’s too big. Too unfamiliar. He doesn’t like it. In orbit over Earth, he breaths slow and steady, hands pressed against the glass of the viewport, ready to man the battery he’s been assigned. Kal is dead. Shepard is gone, down there with Tali’Zorah, and his people are needed. He is needed. So he breathes in and out, and counts off the stars in his head, the lights that guide him home. Veetor’Nara is not a warrior, but he knows how to fight the dark.