Chapter 1: Killing In The Name Of
Chapter Text
PART ONE: HOW BLUNT ARE ALL THE ARROWS
How blunt are all the arrows of thy quiver in comparison with those of guilt.
-Robert Blair
Shepard surged through the Normandy like the tide coming in, tugging Garrus and Miranda helplessly along in her wake.
Garrus had had it all planned out, over the three long days since Shepard had left without a word and without back-up, as tension inside the Normandy had ratcheted up and up. He’d point out that it’d been reckless to go without someone to watch her six, that she didn’t have to jump whenever the Alliance - whenever Hackett - demanded anymore.
But she hadn’t stopped at the sight of him, just thrown a rifle onto the ground next to the shuttle - something she never would normally do and it wasn’t even the gun she’d left the Normandy with - and gone for the elevator.
He was almost jogging to keep up with her when she swept into the CIC. Shepard tugged her helmet off and he winced at the sight of dark purple bruising down the side of her face. There was blood on her arms and chest - red, human blood. What had happened on Aratoht?
He’d wonder why she’d gone down there without back-up but he knew exactly why she’d done it. Hackett had dangled the possibility of going home in front of her and she’d jumped without looking.
Well, maybe that was unfair. She just hadn’t cared about the potential fall.
She came to a stop in front of the galaxy map so suddenly he nearly ran into her back. Then he glanced over her shoulder and froze, a feeling like ice water cascading over him.
“Bloody hell,” Miranda breathed beside him.
At first he couldn’t quite believe what the Normandy’s sensors were saying. The devastation represented by cold, hard numbers on a scale his mind struggled to comprehend. An entire star system gone in minutes. They’d barely outrun it.
Shepard was still for several, long moments and then her voice rang out through the CIC as she threw her helmet into the bulkhead, blue light crackling around her. It hit with a distinct crunch.
“Fuck!”
Dead silence reigned.
“Shepard,” he said cautiously when Shepard didn’t move, still as a dark, ceramic-plated statue, “I’m sure you did everything you could.”
Shepard laughed, but it was cold and hard. “You don’t get it. I didn’t try to stop it,” she waved a hand at the sensor readings, “I’m the one who pulled the trigger.”
His mandibles fluttered before he could control his expression. “What happened in Bahak, Shepard?”
“It was just meant to be a rescue mission,” she pinched the bridge of her nose between her armoured thumb and forefinger, “break an AIA operative out of a batarian prison and take her back to Arcturus. Not exactly easy, but…”
“Something you’ve done before,” Miranda guessed.
“Yeah. But then she started talking about Reapers and I wanted to see the data,” Shepard shook her head, “the idiots had found a Reaper artifact and worked out that the Reapers were going to use the Alpha Relay to bypass the Citadel’s control of the Relay. So they were gonna blow it up but they didn’t shield the fucking artifact!”
Her voice rose.
“They were indoctrinated,” Garrus said flatly.
“Yeah. She had a Marine platoon to protect the asteroid and they should’ve killed me, but they didn’t. They didn’t, so I killed them instead. And then I turned the damn thing on.” Shepard swallowed, clenching her fists a couple of times.
Garrus stared at her. A whole planet. A whole damn planet. It didn’t feel real. Especially with Shepard’s finger on the trigger - Shepard, who always talked about doing things the right way.
Shepard shook her head and when she looked at him, there was a hint of red-orange in her gaze. “The Reapers were only ten minutes behind the asteroid. If I hadn’t destroyed the Relay, they’d be here right now.”
“Bloody hell,” Miranda shook her head, face pale, and then tried for something reassuring, “Shepard, you have to know that the colonists were dead anyway.”
Lawson was right. “The Reapers would have destroyed Aratoht or processed them. You know what happened on Eden Prime and the Citadel three years ago.”
“Don’t,” Shepard cut them both off, her voice now ice, “I just killed three hundred thousand people.” She went to rub her face but there was blood on the gauntlet of the hand she’d raised. For a moment she stared at it like it was someone else’s hand. “Did any other ships make it out?”
“I believe so. We detected ships running for the Relay when we came in to get you,” Miranda said quietly. There was a crease between her eyebrows.
Shepard nodded slowly. “Put us on a heading to Omega. And when we pass a comms buoy, let me know.”
“Where are you going?” Garrus asked.
“I need a shower. And to think.” The elevator swallowed her up in a split second. Garrus reached down and picked up her discarded helmet. The casing was cracked.
Miranda was frowning at the elevator door. “ Tell Joker our destination - I need to talk to her. She’s going to do something stupid.”
He opened his mouth but the executive officer was gone just as quickly as the Commander.
He sighed, glanced down at the damaged helmet, and went to do as he was told.
Miranda couldn’t hear the shower when she stopped in front of Shepard’s cabin door. Something heavy sat in her stomach.
Their operation over the past few months had been as successful as she could have dared hope, even if one ship couldn’t shift the course of a galaxy. T’Soni had found them targets and Shepard had led them in hitting them.
Nothing would be the same now.
She hesitated and then opened the door. Shepard was sitting on the steps leading down to the bed, her bloodstained armour a haphazard pile at her feet. She hadn’t made it out of her underarmour, the material clinging to the curve of her bowed spine.
“Shepard.”
The commander didn’t react.
Miranda sat down next to her and shook Shepard’s shoulder. There was an awful blankness on her face and her fingertips were pressed, gingerly, to her forehead. There were needle marks on her arm and chafing around her wrists like she’d been restrained.
“What did they do to you?” Miranda asked, a stab of helpless anger deep in her gut, and touched the back of Shepard’s hand.
“Not enough to stop me,” Shepard said quietly.
“Have you seen Chakwas?”
“It’s just bruises,” she shrugged. “I’ll talk to the crew in the morning.”
It was an attempt at a dismissal but Miranda wasn’t going to be so easily dissuaded. “Shepard, I know you feel guilty but-”
“That’s the worst part,” Shepard cut her off, wincing as she pulled her hand away from her bruised face, “I don’t really feel anything at all. How can I feel nothing?”
“You’re in shock,” she said carefully.
“Maybe.”
“I know what you’re thinking of doing,” Miranda began, “and you don’t-”
Shepard shook her head, “Yes, I do.”
“You don’t owe the Alliance anything!”
“It’s not about owing anything,” Shepard said, almost gently.
“They’ll toss you into a cell and call it a day. I didn’t put two years of my life into bringing you back so you could play martyr.”
“The batarians will declare war over this.”
“So you’ll play scapegoat,” Miranda pursed her lips.
Shepard was quiet for a moment, watching the flit of fish in the fishtank, the blue light washing over her face.
“You know my brother is at the Naval Academy on Arcturus?” Shepard’s tone was conversational. “He’s nineteen. Just a kid, really. If I don’t hand myself in, it’s kids like him that will die in the thousands. And then the Reapers will show up and we’ll have done half the job for them. And even if I ran? They won’t let it go. They can’t. We’ll be running from everyone and everything.”
“The galaxy needs you.” It was one thing Miranda still agreed with the Illusive Man about.
“I’m just one person. We’re just one ship. We’ll need armies and fleets to have any chance against the Reapers - we need the Alliance and the Hierarchy. I’m going to ask Garrus to work on the Hierarchy and...I have a few friends left on Arcturus. Hell, I might even be able to use my trial to get the word out.”
Deep down, Miranda understood what she was saying even though she hated it. It was practical, pragmatic. Shepard would sacrifice herself as much as she had sacrificed others on Elysium, as she had in Bahak. No one would listen to them. They’d be just terrorists on the run from justice with a burning solar system behind them. Miranda could live with that designation, but she wasn’t sure Shepard could.
Miranda sighed heavily. “I understand.”
“I know you do,” Shepard tilted her head to look at her.
“The crew aren’t going to like this.”
“I know. But I’m not going to bring everyone down with me. I’m sure I can try and - negotiate something with the Alliance. They’ll want me more than any of you.”
“Commander,” EDI sounded almost - apologetic, “we are being hailed by the SSV Orizaba.”
“Admiral Hackett,” Miranda guessed, frowning.
Shepard nodded. Something resigned lurked in her gaze. “Please excuse me. Route the call to my cabin, EDI.”
Miranda stepped outside and heard through the door, Shepard’s crisp, military, “Admiral, sir.”
The airlock opened with a hiss. Shepard clasped her hands behind her back, glancing down at herself - the crisp white of the dress uniform that felt strangely alien, the ribbons that spelt out the career that had ended so abruptly above Alchera on her chest.
Behind her stood Joker, the engineers, Goldstein. Alliance as much as she was, though Joker probably didn’t see it that way. Not Chakwas, who’d asked to be let off with the rest of the crew. Apparently she’d never resigned her commission and had been on furlough the entire damn time. Crafty old officer, Chakwas.
“I can’t stop you from being put on trial, Shepard.”
“I understand, sir.”
Hackett had been regretful but resolute. Some part of her had quietly wondered what he’d really known about Bahak. Constructing the thrusters to propel that asteroid into the relay would have required a lot of funding and a lot of resources. She wondered how much of the plan had been his. If it had just been missing the triggerman. The rest of her did understand. She was a covert operative with blown cover. She was being cut loose.
Dropping off the ground crew had hurt more than anything else and she didn’t know what that said about her. Jack had refused to talk to her. Tali had cried. Garrus had, of all things, hugged her, the two of them finding their way around alien limbs.
“This is the worst thing you’ve ever asked of me,” Garrus had told her then, on the docks of Omega.
He’d followed her into the hell of the Collector Base and now she was leaving him behind.
“Hey EDI,” she called.
“Yes, Commander?”
“Thanks for everything. Keep yourself safe, okay?”
The AI was silent for a moment, “I will try to do so. Captain.”
She smiled, just a little, at that.
She heard the sound of regulation boots on metal decking before she saw them. Here we go. Anderson stepped out of the airlock in his dress whites, his face grim, followed by a handful of MPs in their hardsuits.
She drew herself up and saluted. “Sir.”
“Commander Shepard,” there were lines on his familiar face. He smiled a tight-lipped smile, “Getting formal on me?”
She shrugged. She was glad he was here, but she didn’t feel like banter. “Felt appropriate.” She nodded to the new bars on his uniform. “Congratulations on the promotion.”
Rear Admiral, huh? Not a bad couple of promotions for a man who’d had to give her his ship.
He sighed. “I have to place you under arrest.”
“Yessir.”
“We’ll get you all aboard the Lahore soon enough. You’ll be confined to quarters.”
She blinked. “You’re not going to handcuff me?”
He frowned. “I don’t think that’s necessary. I will need your amp and omnitool though.”
She reached up and pulled it out of the port at the back of her neck, grimacing at the ‘bugs’ that skittered down her nerve endings as it disconnected, slid it into the case she kept in her pocket and handed it over, followed by the slim band of her omnitool. He put both away and put a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“C’mon, kid.” The last time he’d called her that was just before she’d enlisted.
The MPs herded the last of Shepard’s crew into the airlock - except for Joker, who would help the skeleton Alliance crew fly the Normandy back to Arcturus.
“Behave yourself, Joker,” she called over her shoulder.
He tugged on his cap and tried to look innocent. He wasn’t very good at that. “Me?”
She would’ve almost felt bad for the Alliance crew, if they weren’t about to put their hands all over her ship.
She rolled her eyes and let Anderson guide her through the airlock door. It was an unceremonial goodbye to the Normandy. At least it was less dramatic than the last time.
It’d been their choice to stay, but Goldstein and Daniels looked nervous and Donnelly was just staring blankly at the bulkhead. She wanted to comfort them but she wasn’t sure how her moving would be received by the MPs flanking them. One of them, a man with sandy brown hair, was glaring at her.
Once aboard the Lahore they were quickly separated and she was whisked through corridors and up decks, surrounded by the bustle of the crew at work - all of them pausing to stare at her. She couldn’t help the way she tensed. Anderson must have felt it because he gave her shoulder a squeeze.
“Easy on,” he murmured.
She’d imagined her return to the Alliance a dozen times. The first time she put this uniform on again. She’d never thought it would be like this.
“In here.”
It wasn’t the brig, which surprised her, but an officer’s cabin, hastily cleared of their things. She silently apologised to whatever lieutenant she’d displaced.
“It’ll be about fourteen hours back to Arcturus,” Anderson told her, “I have to go up to the bridge to tell the captain we’re good to go but I’ll be back later.”
“Hackett said…” she began but he shook his head sharply, a glint of warning in his eyes.
“Not right now. Later. Don’t say anything to anyone, understand?”
“Aye aye,” she nodded.
Then he was gone and she was alone. She sat down on the bunk. There was a deep throb behind her temples.
Her head had hurt since the asteroid.
She’d thought so this is how it ends, then on the asteroid. Alone, no adrenaline, just the in-slow-motion hurtle towards the blue glow of the Relay and the end of a world. She’d seen a lot of deaths. Some of them instant, some of them far too slow. Some of them begging, like Baby Thompson on Akuze, some of them stoic to the last, like Doc Tilki on Elysium. That was the sort of death she’d always thought she’d get. A bullet in the head or something like that.
She’d thought at least there won’t be a body this time. This time they can’t bring me back.
But then the Normandy had hurtled out of the Relay, the proverbial cavalry, her crew and ship risking obliteration to whisk her away from certain death. And in their rearview mirror Aratoht had died.
In that moment it felt almost simple.
Total war called for victory at any cost.
It took two hours for Anderson to come back to the locked cabin. In that time Shepard got bored enough to start reading the only reading material the officer had left behind - a newly updated paperwork manual.
Anderson gave an raised eyebrow at her reading material but sat down on the bunk beside her and pulled something out of his pocket before nodding. “Now we can talk freely.”
She blinked. “Anderson, are you - jamming? They’re putting cameras in cabins now?”
He frowned. “Not taking any chances, not with the AIA at least.”
“You don’t trust the AIA?”
“I don’t trust any spook as far as I can throw them. Especially not at the moment. I know you’ve been - away, but there’s been some tension between the AIA and the Navy. There was an attempt on Hackett’s life a month ago.”
“Shit,” Shepard leant back, “you think the AIA were behind it?”
“We can’t prove it, but I see their fingerprints all over it. The worst part is I think they genuinely think they’re protecting the Alliance from him. He refused to let them or BNI bring you in after you woke up.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. That’s part of why we need to handle this very carefully, Shepard. If he loses his position - or gets a bullet in the head - we’ll lose control of the military.”
“We?” she raised an eyebrow.
He smiled grimly, “You’re part of a conspiracy now, Shepard. Congratulations.”
She pressed her palm to her throbbing forehead, “A conspiracy to save the galaxy, huh?”
“Something like that.”
“And how exactly am I going to help save the galaxy if I’m in prison?” she asked sardonically.
“We can’t stop this trial, but we can drag it out,” he touched her arm, “you’ll plead not guilty and stick to the story we give you. The truth? The truth will stay with us and a few others who have the full story.”
Shepard shook her head, conflicted and bewildered. “But I am guilty.”
“So what?” he said, almost harshly, “You want me to have you thrown in the brig? You think rotting there will make you feel better? Bring back the dead?”
She shrugged off his hand. “Anyone else would be thrown in a cell.”
“But you’re not anyone else,” he said, pitiless, “you know more about the Reapers than anyone else alive. We need that. We need you and what’s in your head.”
What was in her head. The galaxy of pain the Protheans had forced into her skull, the rage that kept her on her feet when her normal strength was expended.
They would have approved of Bahak. Victory at any costs. Tear the enemy down even if you have to use your fingernails and teeth.
“So what’s the plan?” she asked, looking away. “Besides me committing perjury, that is.”
“Hackett has formed a Reaper task force. You’ll be brought in on the analysis and advisory side of things - and if they need anything Prothean translated. The Defence Council and JOC are a bunch of brass, we both know it, and a fair few of them don’t want to see the immediacy of the threat. We need to make them understand what the situation is.”
“If I hadn’t pulled the trigger, they’d be at Earth by now,” Shepard said quietly. The Lahore’s drive core was a much older design than the Normandy’s. The hum of it put her teeth on edge. “We’re running out of time.”
And what had she done since she’d woken up? The Collectors had needed beating but they were a sideshow. Everything she’d been doing in the Terminus was a fucking sideshow.
“Well, let’s hope the data you’ve collected can get some asses into gear.”
CODEX ENTRY
Systems Alliance Defence Council Meeting February 2186:
The Honourable Emmett Mercer (Minister for Defence): Jesus Christ, Steven, you told me Shepard was handled.
Fleet Admiral Steven Hackett (Chief of Defence): The mission to Bahak was necessary.
EM: Necessary! Necessary? Fucking hell. We’re on the brink of war. The batarians are furious.
SH: That doesn’t change the facts, sir.
EM: Shepard’s accounting of the facts.
SH: Shepard is many things, Mr Minister, but she’s never lied to me.
General Ingrid Eriksen (Commander, ASTRACOM): That you know of.
SH: Ingrid, you’ve seen the projections.
IE: I have. But the fact remains we have a very real problem with Bahak. The batarians are on the verge of declaring war and the Council is already distancing themselves. We won’t be able to activate the self-defence protocol if the other Council members vote that we started it.
SH: I am aware. Shepard will need to face charges.
Moise Koffi (Secretary for Defence): Will that be sufficient? Perhaps we can reach out through diplomatic channels, offer for them to send an observer to oversee the proceedings.
IE: Something to discuss with our colleagues in the Department of Foreign Affairs, but it will definitely be a start. I believe they’re already discussing how to distance the government. The batarians will never believe it, but if we can convince the rest of the galaxy that we weren’t responsible…
EM: We weren’t!
IE: Regardless of fault, the Hegemony will not attack if they believe the turians will come to our aid.
MK: Mr Minister, if you could work with the Minister of Foreign Affairs, we can try and stop this war before it begins.
EM: I’ll bring it up in cabinet.
IE: Of course, this will all rely on us getting a hold of Shepard. We can’t send our troops into the Terminus Systems. We may have to reach out to the Council to have a Spectre assigned to the task.
MK: If we ask a Spectre to do it, they’ll kill her or hand her over to the Council itself.
IE: Do you have an alternative, Mr Secretary?
SH: Such measures will be unnecessary.
EM: Is that so, Admiral?
SH: Shepard has already agreed to surrender to Alliance forces, so long as it’s to Rear Admiral Anderson, and the rest of her crew aren’t pursued.
EM: She has conditions, huh?
SH: Acceptable conditions in my opinion, Mr Minister.
EM: Fine. Bring her in. Quickly.
Chapter 2: Home Sweet Home
Chapter Text
Two weeks ago, James Vega had been in a shitty bar, wrecking his liver as thoroughly as he’d wrecked his career. He’d thought that eventually the MPs would find him and haul him in as a deserter, and toss him in the brig, and that would be that. Instead, here he was, on Arcturus Station in his dress blues waiting for Rear Admiral Anderson’s ship to dock.
Life could be funny like that. Real funny. Put you on your ass.
Was that why he’d gone with Anderson? Because the old man could still put Vega on his ass? Or because he believed him when he said he was too good a Marine to be wasted? Or because they were talking about Emilia Shepard?
He’d looked up to her. Her actions were the subject of Marine Corps legends, a lot of ‘old’ Marines in their thirties telling no shit, there I was kind of stories about operations she’d been on. He still couldn’t quite believe that she’d done what they said she’d done.
What would it mean, if she had? He didn’t know what to think. What to feel.
But here he was, dressed in his blues.
The Normandy’s bow curved past the window of the dock, sleek and predatory, and still in Cerberus colours. That would be the first thing to go. Strip the paint back and slap some Alliance blue and white on her.
Outside the military docks was a crowd of reporters and their camera drones, held back by the Marine guards. Everyone wanted a piece of Shepard, it seemed. The Navy most of all.
“Sir, I don’t understand,” he’d said to Anderson when the Admiral had given him his new posting. The job that was keeping him out of the brig. “This is a job for the MPs or the masters-at-arms.”
He was infantry, after all.
“Shepard’s not a flight risk, Vega. If she wanted to run, we wouldn’t have caught her in the first place.”
“So what, I’m just decorative?”
“No. Your job is to keep her alive. More than the batarians want her head on a stick.”
The airlock door slid open and Admiral Anderson stepped out, a frown firmly on his face. Vega drew himself up and saluted.
“Good evening, sir.”
“Nothing good about it,” he responded shortly, settling his cap on his dark-haired head. Behind him, two MPs led out Commander Shepard.
She was shorter than he’d thought she’d be. She looked a lot like she did on the old posters they’d had of her, the recruitment ones, in her dress whites and her Star of Terra glinting golden in the harsh artificial light, except for the cracks that ran along her jawline, the scars glowing a disconcerting red-orange.
“Shepard, this is Gun- excuse me, Staff Sergeant James Vega of the 103rd. Vega, Commander Shepard.”
Still kinda stung, the demotion, but he couldn’t say he hadn’t expected it.
“Ma’am,” he said.
She nodded to him. Her gaze was cool and sharp, like a knife. It felt a little bit like being dissected or measured. She didn’t look like someone being brought in for a world-shattering atrocity. She didn’t look scared. Maybe a little defensive in the tight set of her shoulders and the lift of her chin.
“Vega will be…”
“My prison guard,” she smiled, sharp-edged, and he shifted uncomfortably.
“Shepard,” Anderson said, warningly.
She rolled her eyes. “I’m behaving, aren’t I?”
“Uh huh. Sergeant Vega, please take Commander Shepard to her quarters. Remember, only people allowed in are those authorised by Admiral Hackett. Absolutely no press.”
“What about my lawyer?” Shepard asked dryly.
“Your mother has already sorted that. And yes, he’s on the damn list. Now get moving.”
“Aye aye, sir.”
After an awkward moment Vega took a hold of Shepard's arm and steered her towards the skycar waiting for them. It was clear she really didn’t like being ‘handled’ - she was tense as steel - but she went quietly.
At least until she called over her shoulder, “Make sure someone takes care of the damned hamster, Anderson, I swear to God!”
After that she let him guide her into the back seat and then he got in beside her. The driver was some squid but he kept the privacy window up. Must’ve been the admiral’s car. He was armed, as was the driver, and he noted that Shepard’s eyes touched on the gun and her surroundings. Cataloguing.
He hoped Anderson was right and she had no intentions of trying to escape.
“Used to be a Gunny, huh?” she asked as the car took off. Only the main thoroughfares of Arcturus could fit two lanes of skycar traffic. The rest of the time it was trams or foot. Most people only used the latter two forms of transport.
He eyed her. “Used to be, yeah.”
“How did that happen?”
Straight on the offensive, was she? “Fucked up.”
He had a whole lot of lives on his conscience and he’d tried to find peace at the bottom of a bottle. She had a lot more.
“Hmm,” she leant back in her seat and crossed her arms.
A few moments of silence passed. It was straight shot from the docks to the officer quarters. Shepard was to be confined in an isolated apartment with Vega and a rotation of MPs to guard her.
He glanced over at her. He couldn’t help the question. This was his hero, tossed off her pedestal. “Why?”
The look Shepard gave him was less than friendly. “I know how this thing works, Vega. I’m not a fucking idiot enough to give you a car ride confession.”
“I’m not a cop. I’m infantry.” Vega felt a bit stung despite himself. He just wanted to understand.
“Just like me, huh? Is that why they picked you?”
“Anderson picked me.”
“Huh.” She was quiet for a long few moments, watching the non-descript metal corridors of Arcturus flash past. She was quiet long enough he thought he wasn’t going to get an answer.
Then, she spoke, almost softly, “Sometimes there’s only bad choices.”
James understood that too well.
Shepard’s new home for the foreseeable future was a small one-bedroom apartment, but off from the outside world and the extranet. Four white walls. Her life shrunk down. She dropped the bag of belongings she’d been able to bring with her on the couch and stared at the room for a moment.
What now? What did she do?
They put a biotic inhibitor into her amp port once the ship arrived on Arcturus Station. She’d barely held back from punching the tech who’d put it in. She couldn’t feel the gravity fields around her, just the strange numbness the inhibitor left behind.
Her relationship with her biotics had varied through her years. As a teenager she’d hated them; hated the way they set her apart, hated the fear too many people looked at her with once they saw the amp port and hated the way she was singled out by security guards and police. Hell, even once she’d joined the Marines she’d always felt that she had to be above reproach. Don’t be the crazy biotic. Don’t get into fights like your friends, definitely don’t flare.
At least in the military they’d been useful. She’d saved squadmates’ lives with a quick barrier, cleared machine gun nests with a flick of a wrist.
And now her biotics were just - gone - and it felt like a part of her had been removed.
“Commander,” Staff Sergeant Vega said from behind her.
She turned. “Yeah?”
She wasn’t sure what to make of her -jailor? Bodyguard? - yet. He seemed...normal. Nice, even, nice enough to make her feel bad for using him as a verbal punching bag. Maybe that was Anderson’s game - send someone she’d feel guilty for messing with.
Bastard.
“Your mother is here.”
Shepard’s first reaction was relief - the child’s deep seated belief that her mother could fix anything. Her second was dread. What would Hannah say about what she’d done?
“Let her in, then,” she said, like she was his commanding officer - but she wasn’t. She had to remember that. He was the one with the power here, even if it seemed he didn’t quite understand that.
Hannah Shepard came through the door in her uniform, because of course she was wearing her uniform, her hands clasped behind her back. In the sterile lighting of the apartment , the command star on her chest gleamed. She’d dyed her hair back to dark brown.
“Jefa.”
Hannah opened her arms and Shepard stepped forward into them. She closed her eyes, feeling her mother kiss her gently on the temple.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Hannah murmured.
“I’ll, uh, give you guys some privacy,” Vega said and retreated.
“Mum,” her voice cracked, “I -” killed them all.
Hannah shook her head, cutting her off, “Not here. I don’t trust them not to have bugged this place.”
Right. Of course they would have. They. The Navy. The organisation they’d both dedicated their adult lives to. She’d never heard Hannah Shepard sound so bitter about it.
She cleared her throat. She wanted to confess it all - the snap of bone under her fists when she’d killed her way through the Alliance personnel, the way she’d gunned Kenson down, how empty she’d felt when she’d pressed the button- to the one person who might forgive her for it but she couldn’t.
They sat on the couch together in silence for several long minutes before Hannah reached over and took her hand.
“I’ve organised for a lawyer. You still need to sign off on it, of course,” Hannah said briskly, because this was how her mother had always dealt with a crisis. She tried to fix it. “His name is Adalberto Castillo. He’s a Senior Counsel and one of the best criminal defence in Alliance space.”
A civilian? She frowned. “How much is that going to cost?”
Hannah paused and then waved a dismissive hand, “Don’t worry about it.”
A lot then. “Jefa, I can just use the JAG they’ll assign me-”
“Absolutely not,” Hannah’s grip tightened on her hand.
Shepard frowned at her. “I’m not a child anymore.”
Hannah’s expression gentled and she smoothed a curl out of Shepard’s face. “I know that. I knew that a long time ago. But,” her voice hardened, “I will not watch them subject you to a show trial for political reasons.”
Shepard swallowed. “Mum…”
“I haven’t been able to protect you in too long,” Hannah smiled sadly, “at least let me do this.”
“Sorry to interrupt, ma’am,” Vega was back, apparently. Hannah didn’t let go of her hand. “But the Investigative Service agents are here.”
Here to interrogate her. She needed to remember what Anderson had told her to say.
“A waste of time,” Hannah said, with a sharp smile, “considering my daughter will not be speaking to them without her lawyer present.”
The days blurred together. Shepard went where she was told, answered the questions the interrogators asked - except for the ones her lawyer told her not to answer, underwent more assessments than when she’d been med-boarded. At many of the interrogations, a batarian accompanied the Alliance Naval Investigative Service agents and glared at her with all four eyes.
A batarian military officer on Arcturus Station at the invitation of the Alliance government. Would wonders never cease?
From what Castillo told her, there was quite a lot to be resolved before she stepped into a courtroom. Whether she could still be considered a part of the Alliance military, if she really had died and what they meant for the law. Her Spectre status - and the Council’s claim to the right to try her - resolved itself with a proclamation of the Council withdrawing it. She was more trouble than she was worth, apparently.
Shepard could handle the interrogations. She’d been trained for that and she knew she was intelligent enough to redirect weak questions, sidestep traps. The prodding at her cybernetics on the other hand, she could do without.
“Extensive cybernetics,” one doctor had noted, “reconstruction of the face, right upper limb, reinforcement of muscle and bone tissue-”
“They replaced my eyes too,” Shepard said helpfully and one of the nurses winced.
In between the legal bullshit was the real work at the ‘Threat Analysis Office’, Hackett’s vaguely titled task force. Some linguist had her translate a text in English to Prothean, saying something about the Rosetta Stone. And then she read report after report after report.”
“It’s not going to be enough, sir,” she admitted when the Admiral met her at the Office.
He looked at her with clear blue eyes. “Talk me through your reasoning.”
What had he known about Bahak?
She shook the thought off. “Even if we can complete Project Prometheus,” the Alliance’s project to arm as many ships as possible with improved defences and Thanix weaponry, “all of our projections show us being defeated within two years. And if Lieutenant Williams,” don’t pause on her name, damnit, “is correct and the Hegemon is indoctrinated, we’re gonna be fighting a war on two fronts.”
“What about Project Crucible?”
Project Crucible. The planet killer. “If we can finish it and it does what it’s meant to do, okay, we can kill Reapers. But it’s fragile, unwieldy - and as soon as we kill one, they’ll swarm it, sir. Without hundreds…”
And they couldn’t build hundreds. Hell, progress was maddeningly slow due to the need for secrecy.
Hackett nodded slowly, thoughtfully. “Do you have any suggestions?”
Something surfaced in the back of her mind. She wasn’t sure if it was something she’d remembered herself or the restless ghosts of the Protheans stirring. “We could have another look at the Prothean records. They held out for centuries, sir.”
“And still lost,” he pointed out with a frown.
“Still. We might find something they ran out of time to implement.”
He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, a rare sign of human fragility from the Admiral. “I’ll contact Doctor T’Soni.”
“Sir,” Commander Frankston, one of Hackett's aides, stuck his head in the door, “Apologies for the interruptions but General Petrovsky is here.”
Hackett let out another sigh. “How did he find out where I was?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“Tell him I’ll be with him in ten minutes.”
“Aye aye sir.”
“Who’s General Petrovsky, sir?”
“An army officer, and one who can’t find you here. Get Vega and go out the back way. Now.”
She stood up from the conference table and gathered her notes. She was halfway to the door when Hackett spoke again.
“And Commander? Good luck for tomorrow.”
The skycar was unassuming except for the blue and white Alliance Navy paint and the bulletproof tinted windows. Shepard sat in the back seat, her hands folded over the sword on her lap. Seemed a bit strange, giving someone accused of genocide a sword, but full dress whites was full dress whites.
Vega sat beside her, dressed in fatigues and a plate carrier, a pistol at his hip. She knew he had a rifle in the boot of the skycar. The driver was Navy but Shepard didn’t know him. Anderson sat in the front passenger seat, resplendent in his own dress uniform and fruit salad of medals.
The car settled with the soft hum of thrusters, right in front of the Madam Kastanie Drescher court complex, the seat of the High Court of the Systems Alliance. Navy courts martial usually used part of the FLEETCOM complex for trials, but apparently her trial required a bigger room. Or rather, a bigger public gallery.
The last time the Navy had asked the High Court for a spare courtroom had been the war crimes trial of the Marines charged over the Torfan killings. Those Marines had gone down in infamy as the Torfan Three.
Would the media give her a nickname? One to overshadow the things they’d called her after Elysium and the Citadel?
When the three of them exited the vehicle, the reporters were waiting for them. Anderson almost had to push his way through the throng, cameras going off in Shepard’s face. A cacophony of questions were thrown at her - hell, she couldn’t have answered them if she’d been inclined to.
She did her best to tune it all out as Vega guided her into the lobby, where the reporters were still barred from. Her expensive, civilian lawyer was already there, waiting outside the courtroom in a suit and robe, surrounded by the rest of her legal team.
“Good morning, Admiral, Commander,” Adalberto Castillo said with a cheery smile, “I’ve checked in for you already, and in a few minutes the Masters-At-Arms will let us in and you can sit in the box. How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” she said shortly.
"Good, good. Now, I'll just remind you of the procedure. Once we go in, you'll sit in the box. The judge will read the charges and ask how you plead to each of them. Make sure you stand when he's addressing you. You'll enter your pleas of not guilty, and then sit back down. Once you're done, you shouldn't need to talk again. All we're doing after that is setting a date for the next hearing, and we can all enjoy the rest of the day. Any questions?"
“No, it seems pretty straight forward.” She squared her shoulders. “Can’t be worse than getting shot at.”
Castillo chuckled. "Well, I don't know about that. But tell me afterwards, and I can tell clients which is worse next time."
She smiled. “Sure thing.”
Anderson touched her shoulder. “I’m going to go find my seat with your mum. Remember, chin up, N7.”
“Aye sir.” She watched him go, feeling a moment of warm gratitude. Anderson was risking his career by standing by her like this.
"He's a good man," Castillo remarked. "But for circumstance, you're pretty lucky. Having so many stick by you."
“Yeah, I know. If it wasn’t for him, I’d probably already be in the brig.”
Castillo nodded and opened his mouth to say something else, but a Master-at-Arms emerged from the door next to them. "Shepard, Emilia."
"Alright, that's us. Remember, up into the box. They'll have a few minutes to let the reporters in and then the judge will enter."
“Alright. Let’s do this.” She followed the Master-At-Arms into the courtroom and went straight for the box, settling uncomfortably in the seat there - nearly catching her ceremonial sword - and folded her hands in her lap.
‘The box’ was a low, wooden wall that separated her from the rest of the court room. There was a door just behind her that led to the cells - where the Accused who were in custody would enter the court from. Blocking the small wooden door that gave access from the courtroom and the box, a Navy Master-at-Arms stood at attention. Her guard. She felt sorry for him if she thought about it. Standing at attention while people talked incessantly was never fun.
The dress uniform sat uncomfortably on her shoulders and she resisted the urge to slide her finger under the Star of Terra’s ribbon. It felt too tight. Everything did.
Once everyone had settled in - Shepard in the box, Hannah Shepard and Anderson in the front of the gallery, and the defence and prosecution teams at the bar table, they opened the doors and let the reporters in. It took several minutes for them to file in, taking any spare seat they could and setting up their camera drones. There was a low hum of conversation that hung over the court room.
Once they had started to quiet down, the Judge's associate, a young Navy Lieutenant, stood and left the courtroom. After a few moments, she returned, standing behind her allocated seat directly in front of the bench.
"All stand," she loudly announced, and the entire courtroom did.
Shepard ignored the flashing of the camera drones. At least Al Jilani wasn’t here. Emily Wong was. Perhaps she ought to thank Al Jilani for giving her plenty of practice holding back her temper in front of the press.
The Judge entered then, Navy Captain Chakir, and headed to his seat. He stood, still for a moment, his dark skin juxtaposed against the pristine, bright white of his uniform. Then he gave a deep bow, and everyone in the courtroom bowed back. Then, the Judge sat and, again, the courtroom followed suit.
"Alright. What are we doing here today?"
Castillo stood. "Your Honour, my name is Castillo on behalf of Commander Emilia Shepard, the Accused. My client intends to enter her plea in relation to the offences with which she has been charged."
"Very well. I will now read the charges to the Accused," he looked over to Shepard in the box. "Now, Commander Shepard, you have been charged with a series of offences. I will go through them one by one and you will enter your plea in relation to them. Do you understand?"
“Yes, Your Honour,” she said clearly and calmly.
"Very well." He cleared his throat, pausing for a moment. "You, Emilia Shepard, stand before the Systems Alliance Naval Court charged with the following offences. One count of genocide. One count of treason. One count of aggravated dereliction of duty. One count of conspiracy to commit treason. One count of conspiracy to commit terrorism."
In the brief pause in the Judge's words, the camera drones clicked furiously.
"In relation to the charge of genocide, how do you plead?"
“Not guilty.”
"In relation to the charge of treason, how do you plead?"
“Not guilty.” Whatever she’d done she was not a traitor.
"In relation to the charge of aggravated dereliction of duty, how do you plead?"
“Not guilty.”
"In relation to the charge of conspiracy to commit treason, how do you plead?"
“Not guilty.”
"In relation to the charge of conspiracy to commit terrorism, how do you plead?"
“Not guilty.”
The Judge allowed a few seconds of silence as the press did their best to capture the moment. "Very good. I imagine we will want to proceed to a pre-trial conference?"
Castillo stood to answer again. "Yes, Your Honour. We've some disputed facts we'd like to clear up."
"I'll set a date next month for the PTC to give the Navy time to assemble a jury pool. Counsel, be aware that if the Navy has assembled the pool by that date, we will select them at that time."
The Judge's associate turned around to face the captain. "February 7 is free, sir."
"February 7 at 9:30AM, here, do either of you object?"
The prosecutor stood. "If it please the court, Vogt for the prosecution. I am unfortunately indisposed on the 7th of February. Is the 8th okay?"
"Perhaps the 13th?"
"The 13th, Mr Vogt, does that suit?"
"Yes, Your Honour."
The Judge looked the other way. "Mr Castillo?"
"Yes, Your Honour, that suits the defence."
"Good. I will see you all on the 13th of February for a PTC. This court is adjourned until 13 February at 9:30AM, local time."
He stood, bowed, and left. The reporters were forced out of the room as the Master-at-Arms stepped aside and let Shepard out of the box and just like that it was over.
CODEX ENTRY
Service Record - Commodore Hannah Shepard:
---SADF database search version---
Service Number:
Name: Shepard, Hannah Lucy
Rank: Commodore
DOB: 2132
Place of Origin: Melbourne, Australia
Nationality: Australian
Language Proficiency: Spanish - intermediate, English - native
Marital Status: Married
Next of Kin: Isabel Alves (wife, deceased), Emilia Shepard, SAN (daughter), Midshipman Nicolas Laurent Shepard, SAN (son), John Laurent (husband)
Status: active duty
MVC: F7, C7
Biotic: N
Service Record:
Graduated Australian Defence Force Academy, 2153
Commissioned as Pilot Officer, Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF), 2153
Maternity leave, 2154
Commissioned Sub-Lieutenant, Systems Alliance Navy Aviation Corps, 2155
Assigned to 333rd Test and Evaluation Squadron, Terra Nova, 2155
Awarded Navy Achievement Medal, 2156
Commended for development of in-atmosphere to orbital and deep space small spacecraft tactics while serving as a test pilot.
Transferred to DSF-5, CAW-12, aboard the SSV Stanley Savige, Second Fleet, 2156
Participated in the Siege of Shanxi, during the First Contact War, 2157
Awarded Distinguished Combat Medal, 2157
Purple Heart awarded, 2157
Shanxi Liberation Medal awarded, 2157
Prisoner of War Medal awarded, 2157
Air Medal awarded, 2157
Meritorious promotion to Flight Lieutenant, 2157
Assigned to 301st Test and Evaluation Squadron as Flight Leader, Arcturus Station, 2158
Awarded Navy Achievement Medal, 2159
Transferred to MAG-34, Terra Nova, as a staff officer, 2160
Transferred to Fleet Replacement Fighter Squadron 34 as instructor, 2163
Czarnobog Fleet Depot
Promoted to Lieutenant Commander, 2165
Transferred to DSF-40, MAG 14, 6th MEB, Sector 17 in the Skyllian Verge as Squadron XO, 2165
Awarded Naval Commendation Medal, 2166
Participated in Space Warfare Command Officer Training, 2167
Transferred to SSV London as Navigator, 2167
Maternity leave taken, 2167
Transferred to DSF-16, CAW 10, aboard the SSV Einstein as Squadron XO,, 2169
Participated in the Relief of Mindoir, 2170
Participated in anti-piracy operations, 2170-71
Air Medal awarded, 2171
Promoted to Commander, 2171
Transferred to DSF-81, CAW 35, aboard the SSV London, as Squadron Commander, 2171
Awarded Distinguished Flying Cross with V, 2172
Transferred to SSV Joan of Arc, as Executive Officer, 2173
Transferred to SSV Marie Curie, as Squadron Commander, 2175
Participated in Relief of Elysium, 2176
Awarded Joint Service Superior Service Medal, 2176
Promoted to Captain, 2177
Transferred to CAW 23, aboard the SSV Kastanie Drescher as CAG, 2177
Participated in anti-piracy operations, 2177-2178
Traverse Campaign Medal awarded, 2178
Awarded Distinguished Flying Cross with V Device, 2178
Transferred to Systems Alliance Naval Academy as military professor, 2180
Transferred to SSV Kilimanjaro as Executive Officer, 2182
Promoted to Commodore, 2183
Transferred to 50th Scout Flotilla as Commanding Officer, 2183
Compassionate leave taken, 2183
Transferred to SSV Orizaba as Commanding Officer, 2184
Chapter 3: The Trial
Summary:
Uh, this apparently has turned into a courtroom drama?
Chapter Text
The court room was packed to the brim and Emilia Shepard could feel every eye on her like a knife. Camera drones clicked and buzzed. She ignored them, watching the bar table intently.
The bar table was a continuous pine table, with a small gap in the middle. On the other side, furthest from Emilia and closest to the jury, three Navy lawyers sat. The JAG prosecutors, whose job it was to convict her of genocide and terrorism. The senior prosecutor stood up, a tall man with short, neat brown hair and a tan that said he spent at least some time off the station.
"Good morning, Your Honour," he began, in a polite Australian accent. "I humbly ask that we continue where we left off, yesterday afternoon?"
The judge nodded. "Very well, Mr Vogt, you may proceed with cross examination of the Accused. Master-at-Arms, escort the Accused to the stand."
Shepard allowed herself to be escorted up, rubbing briefly at the back of her neck. The loss of her biotic awareness still felt strange, unnatural.
Shepard was seated, sitting in front of a microphone in another wooden box. This time she was closer to the jury - her expressions and body language much easier to be picked up - and she was directly across from the prosecution side of the bar table.
The senior lawyer had full Commander loops on the shoulder of his dress whites. His ribbons were atypical of a lawyer also - where most had the basic service, competency, and conduct medals, he had a few extra: combat action ribbon, Traverse service ribbon, space service ribbon. A SWO who’d changed career tracks or just a very motivated JAG?
It didn’t matter.
His gold nameplate read Vogt, and he smiled like a wolf staring down a lamb.
"You were introduced to this honourable court yesterday, Accused, but for the benefit of the transcript, please state your full name, date of birth, and rank."
“Commander Emilia Isabela Alves Shepard, April 11 2154, “ she said flatly, staring straight ahead. She kept her shoulders straight and her chin up, light glinting off the rack of medals that stretched to her shoulder. If they convicted her, they’d take her rank and maybe the medals too.
"Thank you, Commander. Now, yesterday, we heard a long, detailed account of your life from what felt like conception to today. This court heard all about your distinguished career, your journey from enlisted Marine to officer, from private to one of the most highly decorated Marines in Alliance history. We heard about your last stand at Elysium, your actions through the Traverse, losing your platoon on Akuze. Your death. We heard also-."
It was at this point Castillo got fed up. He stood, which prompted Commander Vogt to close his mouth and sit down with a frown. "Your Honour, my learned friend has been talking for close to an hour and we haven't heard anything resembling a question, I really must object."
Chakir looked frustrated already. He sighed. "For once, Mr Castillo has a reasonable objection, please get to a question and get there quickly, Mr Vogt."
"My apologies, Your Honour. I will start simply. When did you first have contact or exposure to the terrorist organisation Cerberus?"
“October 2183, during the Eden Prime War, was the first time I had exposure to Cerberus,” she could remember all too well the rage that had been in her like a living thing, how close she’d come to smashing Wayne’s skull in. “December that year was the first time I had contact with a current member.”
"That was the year, also, you became a Spectre, wasn't it?"
The other lawyer stood. Vogt held his arms out as if to say 'really?', but he sat down again.
"Do I even have to say it, Your Honour?"
Vogt stood. "I was leading Commander Shepard to an objective truth, Your Honour, should I introduce the vid footage?"
With some amount of venom, the Judge simply said one word. "Overruled." The other lawyer sat down again.
"Well, Commander? 2183, you were a Spectre?"
“Yes,” Shepard said simply, meeting his gaze steadily, “I was made a Spectre in March that year.”
"Please explain a little about what a Spectre is, what they do, and most importantly, who they report to."
“A Spectre is an agent of the Citadel Office of Special Tactics and Reconnaissance. The Office’s mission is to preserve galactic stability and we answer directly to the Citadel Council.” Was she supposed to stand in for Plex? She kept her features smooth. Irritation wouldn’t help her right now.
"You reported directly to the council, but did you retain your military rank and power within the Systems Alliance Defence Force?"
“Yes, I did. I retained my command.” Not that any of it had been her idea. She hadn’t wanted to be a Spectre in the first place.
"A command which included captaining the SSV Normandy, an Alliance warship crewed by Alliance servicemen and women."
Castillo stood again. "I think my friend forgot how questions work, Your Honour." He had a smile on his face and was clearly enjoying himself. Normally, objecting with frequency and vigor was a terrible strategy. It turned the jury against the objecting lawyer and often seemed like they had no good arguments and instead had to rely on interrupting the other lawyer. But Castillo had his reasons, and at least it gave her some entertainment.
"I'll rephrase my statement as a question. Did you retain the command of the SSV Normandy and was it crewed by Alliance servicemen and women?"
“Yes, I did, and the crew were predominantly Alliance personnel. Best ship in the Navy,” she replied, with a little smile despite herself. Part of her would always belong to that ship and its crew.
"The SSV Tobruk would disagree I'm afraid," Commander Vogt replied, and he sounded almost friendly for a moment. But in a flash, he was all business again. "Did you have a Marine in your ship's company named Staff Sergeant Ashley Williams?"
Castillo didn't object, but the smile was wiped off of his face. Vogt on the other hand, looked pleased with himself, a smile curling his lips.
Shit. She hadn’t thought they’d drag Ash into it. She didn’t want what she’d done to torpedo Ashley’s career, not now she was doing so well. “Yes. She was the Marine Detachment commander after Staff Lieutenant Alenko was killed in action.”
"Did you spend much time with Staff Sergeant Williams?"
“It was a small ship and a small ground crew. We were all, for the most part, friends.”
"Specifically, were you friends with Staff Sergeant Williams?"
“Yeah, I’d say so. The crew was close. We had to be.”
Commander Vogt tapped two fingers on the lectern in front of him. He took a small step to his left, and pushed his chair in under the desk, as if he expected to be standing for a while. After a moment of what looked like careful thought, he said, "Are you a lesbian, Commander Shepard?"
There was an immediate uproar, Castillo sputtered some kind of profanity-slash-objection and the camera drones clicked frantically.
“Yes,” Shepard said coldly.
"Run me through the friendship you had with the Staff Sergeant."
"Your Honour, I really would like to know what my client's sexual orientation has to do with the proceedings before the court - now I understand we were here to discuss some very serious charges, but it seems my friend is more interested in chasing schoolyard rumors than establishing proof!" Castillo was an older gentleman and, though reasonably fit, he'd enjoyed a very successful, high profile career of long lunches, fine food and a couple of beers with lunch. His face was reddening and his squat figure made him look something like a tomato.
"If the court would allow me a little latitude, perhaps we could all find where I'm going with this...?"
The Judge cocked his head to one side. He'd frankly had enough of the civilian lawyer's antics, enough so that he felt like punishing the man, but he didn't want to entertain nonsense. "This had better be relevant, Mr Vogt. Your questioning has been all over the place as it is. Commander Shepard, give details as to your relationship with Staff Sergeant Williams."
“She was my MARDET commander and a friend. She went through something similar to what I went through on Akuze.”
He nodded. "Did you bond over that shared trauma?"
She shrugged. “Sure. It’s not something a lot of people can relate to.”
"Were you closer than some of the other crew, perhaps?"
“I guess,” she said warily, “I didn’t want her to go down the same path I did after Akuze.”
"That path, I imagine, being suicidal ideations and potential self-harm, as we heard yesterday. Were you ever alone in your quarters with Staff Sergeant Williams?"
Castillo had a hand on the table, he was clearly ready to leap from his seat at a moment's notice.
“I was often alone with individual members of the crew,” she replied calmly, “including, yes, female members of the crew and Staff Sergeant Williams.” She let a tone of irritation leak into her voice when she said female. “Quite often even, if there were issues with the Marine Detachment or we were mission planning.”
"Those meetings could go on for a while, couldn't they?"
“Sometimes.” She couldn’t lie, but if she could deflect, she would. Ash deserved better than to have this - all the pain she’d caused her, all of it - dragged through a court room.
"And no one would be able to attest to what you did or didn't do, in those meetings, when alone, with Staff Sergeant Williams."
"Your Honour," Castillo said, "I'm losing patience."
"As am I. Mr Vogt. If you have a point, I suggest you reach it."
"Of course, your honour, I seek to tender a holograph." He held out a holo, which a Navy Master-at-Arms took and handed to the Judge. It was put under a reader and displayed on small vidscreens for the judge and both sides of the bar table to see.
It was just a holo of some of the crew of the Normandy SR-1, including Commander Shepard and then Lieutenant Williams. They were at a bar somewhere, drinks in hands. Shepard had her arm slung around Ash’s shoulders, pulling them together. They were both smiling.
Ashley's hand was somewhere on or near Emilia's back, though it couldn't be seen from this angle, and her head leaned in towards Emilia. Almost touching.
They’d been happy that night. Wulandri had told them a funny story about her time on the Tokyo. Kanu had brought enough muffins for the entire crew. That night she and Ash had spoken long into the early mornings and fallen asleep together in Shepard’s Arcturus bed.
Shepard breathed in. Her chest hurt. This old memory of tentative intimacy, a touch they’d barely allowed themselves, twisted into ammunition against her.
"Does the defence object to the tendering of this photograph?"
Castillo did. "Point of law, Your Honour."
The jury were laypeople - lay military personnel in this case.. If there was to be some discussion as to a point of law, the jury had to be cleared which meant removing them from the courtroom into the nearby jury room to wait.
It took a few minutes to clear them before Castillo could speak. "I am simply worried, Your Honour, that this photograph is prejudicial to my client in that it encourages the viewer to draw inferences as to the relationship between the two women."
"It is simply friends at a bar, having a good time, isn't it?" Vogt tried to sound innocent as if he didn't have some ulterior motive. "Its probative value far outweighs any prejudice that my friend has imaginatively, er… imagined. What could possibly be prejudicial about Marines and sailors out at a bar?"
"I am inclined to agree with Mr Vogt, Mr Castillo. No doubt many members of the jury have similar photographs floating about on the extranet. Whether it is probative or not, is irrelevant, I feel, in that any prejudice to be drawn from this photo falls entirely within the realm of impossibility. The photograph is entered into evidence."
Castillo knew about Emilia and Ash's relationship - he'd been given an extensive brief, generated from hours of interviews with the instructing solicitor, which covered it all. He did know that the photo might make Shepard and Ash look bad, hurting both their testimony, especially if it came to light that they were involved.
Shepard kind of wished they’d just start questioning her about shooting Kenson and blowing up the mass relay. That at least she could only be fucking over herself.
Once the point of law had been cleared up, the photograph was displayed on a HV display for all to see and the jury was allowed to reenter. When they were seated, Vogt continued his cross.
"It would appear that you and then First Lieutenant Williams were more than friends at that time, Commander. What was the nature of your relationship, specifically?"
Castillo, of course, objected. "Absolutely not!" He shouted. "Your Honour, I implore, please put an end to this line of questioning on the basis of relevancy!"
"Staff Lieutenant Williams is a witness on the defence's very own witness list, Your Honour. I am simply trying to establish exactly, to what extent the two are known to each other, given that both will be brought before the court."
Staff Lieutenant? Ashley must have been promoted.
"My friend is trying to besmirch a witness - a witness - before they have stepped foot in the courtroom."
"This is directly relevant, Your Honour," Vogt said evenly, not bothering to look at the fuming lawyer to his left. "To establish how the testimony of each of the two of them interacts and to how much weight this court and the jury should give to that testimony."
The Judge thought for a moment. "I will allow the question. However I will, as I see fit, direct the jury in accordance to that testimony. Does that seem fair?"
Castillo clearly did not think so. "Yes, Your Honour."
"If you'd answer my question, please, Commander?"
God. I’m so sorry, Ash. “We were romantically involved for some time after she was commissioned as an officer.” Every word hurt to get out. It technically wasn’t a lie. They’d slept together before Ilos, but they hadn’t started their relationship until after the Battle of the Citadel and she’d pinned those silver bars on her. She stared straight ahead, even as her stomach twisted and the cameras went off.
She’d agreed to be the Alliance’s scapegoat. The least Hackett could’ve done was keep Ash out of it. That had been the deal. She sacrificed herself and her crew walked away.
Vogt tried not to look too please with himself. "But it did go on while under your command?"
“...yes.” She’d always understood the need for fraternisation regulations. Ash had been the exception in so many ways. But Ilos - she’d really thought that was the end of the line one way or another. Then it hadn’t been, and she’d been in too deep and Ash had said it was what she wanted. It hadn’t felt wrong when they’d been together. It wouldn’t have been a problem once Ash transferred, and they’d planned for that.
God help her, she still wanted her. She’d had all these vague dreams of living together, arguing over stupid crap like Shepard’s taste in HV, getting married one day and then they could serve in the same unit again.
That wasn’t going to happen anymore.
"So to add to your long list of accolades, we now have: hero, survivor, fraterniser?"
Castillo stood up, but the Judge held up a hand to stop him anyway. "The jury is directed to disregard Mr Vogt's last comment. You are reaching the end of the rope, Mr Vogt."
"I understand, Your Honour." Vogt looked contrite for a moment and switched gears. "So you and Lieutenant Williams carried on this relationship, in secret, aboard the Normandy. It must have been stressful, seeing her put into harm's way like that?"
“Sure. I’ve never enjoyed sending people I care about into danger. And that included everyone on the ground team, not just Lieutenant Williams. But I did. I sent her on missions because it was her job and I respected her as a Marine.” Shepard said that strongly. She’d never kept Ashley from danger. Ash was someone who wanted to be walking point, leading Marines. Anything else would’ve been disrespectful - and Ash wouldn’t have stood for it.
Vogt changed tact. "I wasn't suggesting that you didn't send her, or that you didn't respect her. It is entirely possible that you had an unconscious bias, Commander, towards keeping her safe, or to avoid being seen as if you had that bias, isn't it?"
Castillo didn't buy it. "Is my friend really suggesting he could possibly know how my client might have thought - or that she was aware of an unconscious bias?"
The Judge nodded. "That seems a silly point to make, wouldn't you say, Mt Vogt?"
"Yes, Your Honour." It was clear Shepard wouldn't simply sit down and be smeared. "Do you think your leadership style broke with the orthodoxy in the Marine Corps? You were more friendly than other commanders, more friendly with specific members of the crew than another person might have been."
“In the ‘Big’ Navy and Marine Corps, yes. Within SASOC, no, I wasn’t considered overly unorthodox. I spent most of my career in the Raider Division or as a N7, so it was inevitable that I developed my command style to fit special operations. The Navy knew this when they chose to take me out of SASOC and assign me to the Normandy.” If the Navy was going to have an issue with her acting like a N7, they never should’ve put her in a billet she wasn’t meant for. They’d pushed her into that situation despite her protestations.
"Exactly right. You were a special forces infantry officer with a hasty SWO course, not a Navy captain. Did you ever feel… out of your depth commanding a warship?"
“I’m not sure the Navy would agree SWCOT is hasty,” she glanced pointedly at his own SWCOT ribbon, “it was an adjustment, as it is for any CO, but I had an excellent crew, one I knew wouldn’t hesitate to bring up any concerns they had to me. I had experience as an officer of the deck and as an XO prior to taking command. In addition, Lieutenant Commander Pressly was an excellent executive officer.”
Vogt cocked his head at that. "Did you rely on Lieutenant Commander Pressly to run the day-to-day activities on the ship?"
“I don’t understand the question. I relied on him as any commanding officer does to run the bridge and do most of the paperwork.”
"Lieutenant Commander Pressly was an experienced Navy officer and by all accounts a good XO. But you were often not on the ship, in command, were you? You led ground operations with the Marine detachment while Pressly had the bridge."
“I was off the ship more regularly than other ship commanders,” she conceded, “but the majority of my time during the Eden Prime War I was on the ship. I commanded the Normandy in all of her battles with the exception of the Battle of the Citadel. That battle is to Commander Pressly’s credit. That was unorthodox, but that was the solution my command team and I came up with given the extraordinary circumstances we were in.”
Vogt looked mildly surprised, and turned to look at the junior to his right, who was avoiding his gaze. Obviously, there had been some mix up with his material and he got an answer he didn't expect and, based on that look, he blamed the poor Lieutenant next to him.
Regardless, he took the answer in stride. "You commanded the Normandy from the bridge in other battles too then, I take it, such as Alchera?"
Shepard went very still, nails digging into her palms. Castillo had warned her that they’d dig and prod at her, but the mention of Alchera still washed over her like she’d been dunked in ice. “Until I made the call the ship was lost. Pressly remained on the bridge to oversee the evacuation of the crew while I went below to ensure the distress beacon was launched.”
"Not exactly an exemplary service record, is it, losing the most expensive ship in the fleet on your watch?"
"Your Honour," Castillo interrupted. For the first time in a while, Vogt sat down, but he looked pleased with himself. "My learned friend is clearly attacking this witness."
"Let's see if he agrees, shall we? Mr Vogt."
Commander Vogt stood. "Your Honour, as my friend well knows," he gestured with an arm to Castillo, sweeping in his direction as if flicking him away, "he opened the Accused to a cross in relation to her character and her service record when this court was subjected to yesterday's relentless chief."
"That clears it up, doesn't it?" The Judge asked, before directing Vogt to continue. Castillo seethed, but returned to his seat.
"Not many Naval officers have a ship loss on their record. The Normandy was lost, under your command. The XO, among others, was killed. While some of the crew, including Lieutenant Williams and Lieutenant Commander Nilsson survived, you did not. And yet you maintain that you weren't out of your depth commanding a Navy vessel?"
"Your Honour," Castillo protested
"We've been through this, Mr Castillo, sit down," the Judge ordered. "Answer the question, witness."
You son of a bitch. Castillo had told her repeatedly she couldn’t lose her temper. It was an effort. “There isn’t a day I don’t think of the crew of the Normandy. But I was cleared of any wrongdoing in the inquest into the ship’s loss, and we were a reconnaissance frigate ambushed by a battle cruiser with a MHDW. We lost our drive core in the first hit. There’s not an officer in the Navy who could’ve won that fight. Maybe I could’ve done some things differently - I don’t know. I had split seconds to try and save as many of my crew as I could.”
Vogt seemed to ignore the answer. "So, if I remember correctly, you've so far admitted to fraternising and you've admitted to losing a Navy vessel under your command. One more and I think you get a free coffee."
"Mr Vogt." The Judge pinched the bridge of his nose, preempting Castillo's objection. "You obviously know that is not an appropriate remark. I am warning you. The jury is once again directed to disregard that comment."
"My apologies, Your Honour." But he didn't look sorry. The jury was hard to read. They wore a smattering of different uniforms, having been drawn from the pool of eligible Alliance service personnel. It was going to be a tough fight, and it was hard to guess which way Vogt's examination would sway them.
"Regardless, your service record is far from perfect like my friend made out yesterday, wouldn't you agree?"
Cold anger sat heavy in her gut. She thought about Steward Medra’s panicked face when he’d told her he couldn’t find Greico. She thought about Lowe’s body tangled up with the wreckage in the CIC. She’d died saving her crew and the Navy had given her posthumous medal, and now they wanted to hang her for it.
“I have made mistakes but combat involves split second decisions as any officer who’s commanded in the field knows. I stand by my actions on Alchera and more importantly the Navy’s own report on the loss of the Normandy does.”
"Well, we'll see if the jury does, I suppose. I'd like to redirect you to my queries in relation to Cerberus. To what extent were you involved with Cerberus in 2185?"
“I was the commanding officer of the Lazarus cell aimed at fighting the Collectors. I had no other involvement with Cerberus.”
"How did you come to command the Lazarus cell?"’
“I woke up on a Cerberus station in 2185 and was offered the ship and crew in order to investigate the 2185 colony disappearance.”
"You were given an updated version of the Normandy-class stealth frigate, by Cerberus, is that correct?"
“Yes.”
"And you were the commanding officer of that vessel?"
“That’s correct.”
"While working as the commanding officer of the Lazarus cell, did you visit many planets and stations at Cerberus' behest?"
“As a general rule, I decided where to go of my own initiative, but I did travel to some places on Cerberus information, yes.”
"You plead not guilty to a charge of treason, and yet, you had complete autonomy over your vessel and where it would go, why did you not simply… return to the Systems Alliance?"
“I counted it as very unlikely that a Cerberus crew would simply allow me to hand them and the ship over to the Alliance,” she said dryly, “and I did consider simply fleeing, and even visited a Corsair I knew to discuss repatriating myself, but I saw an opportunity to interdict the Collectors and gather information on Cerberus from an inside perspective. In addition, I was concerned for Jok- for Jeffrey Moreau’s safety if I tried leaving.”
"But nobody in the Systems Alliance approved of your involvement with Cerberus?"
“No. I did inform the Alliance, and I was given no indication that I should immediately return.”
"When do you consider your relationship with Cerberus to have ended?"
“Mid October last year. We dealt with the Collectors, and the Illusive Man was not very happy that I refused to give him Collector technology, so that relationship was well and truly severed.”
"How long was there between your relationship and the events at Bahak?"
“Eight weeks.”
“So Cerberus didn’t send you to Bahak?”
“No, they didn’t.” She had to be careful here - she couldn’t let slip that Hackett had sent her, even if it meant lying to the court.
“Roughly how many of the ship’s company had anti-batarian sentiment, would you reckon?”
“A fair few,” she said evenly, “There were a handful who’d lost family members to slave raids, which prompted them joining Cerberus.”
“How did they react when you told them where you were steaming?”
“I didn’t advise them as to my plans, and we’d been to all sorts of Terminus systems previously.”
“How many of the crew were aware you were planning to destroy the Bahak relay?”
“I didn’t plan on it so they couldn’t have known. Their only involvement in that mission was to drop me off in the shuttle and extract me.”
Vogt cocked a brow. “Was Doctor Amanda Kenson planning on it?”
Castillo objected. “Obviously, Your Honour, this witness could not possibly attest to what another person was planning.”
“Considering that the person in question is the Accused’s alleged co-conspirator and is now a corpse, surely the Accused would have at least some understanding as to what she was thinking.”
Kenson was space dust now, really.
The other man shook his head. “Doubtful, considering it has not yet been established that the alleged co-conspirator was actually the Accused’s co-conspirator at this stage.”
The Judge pondered for a few seconds. “Mr Castillo is right on the law, Mr Vogt. Ask another question.”
“Yes, Your Honour. Witness, when did you meet Doctor Kenson?”
“When I rescued her from the batarian prison on Aratoht.”
Vogt laughed, but was swiftly rebuked by the judge. “Mr Vogt, you will maintain your proper decorum!”
After a few moments, he allowed himself to be cool, calm, and collected once more. “And I imagine you will now tell us you had no knowledge of the project to use asteroids to destroy mass relays until you ‘rescued’ Kenson?”
Castillo seemed to ponder an objection, but for some reason let this question go.
Shepard stared at him flatly. “Unless you expect me to lie to the court - which I explicitly swore not to - then yes. I’m not a scientist or an engineer. I shoot things for a living. I had no knowledge or any part in the project before that time.”
“You were a Council Spectre with virtually limitless resources under Cerberus, an anti-batarian terrorist organisation, and had a heaping of batarian hatred yourself. You didn’t need to know anything about science to fund - or organise Cerberus - to fund a project designed to destroy 300,000 batarains, did you?”
“That is a very loaded question, Your Honour, and one I would like my client not to answer.” “Very well, Mr Castillo. Please rephrase, Mr Vogt.”
Vogt thought for a moment. He didn’t really have a backup question, so he decided to keep it simple. “Would a person need to be a scientist to support a project such as this?”
“No. But they would need to be incredibly wealthy, which I am not,” she couldn’t help the dry tone that crept into her voice. Limitless resources? She’d needed Liara’s help to run the Normandy after cutting ties with Cerberus.
“The Illusive Man is, though, isn’t he? And we have already established you were working for him.”
“That is not a question,” said Castillo.
“What happened to Doctor Kenson?”
“She died during the Bahak Incident.” Hackett had told her not to admit to shooting Kenson unless she could avoid it. Save a murder charge.
“Did she set the asteroid on its impact trajectory while you were present?”
“No.”
“But she did do it with your assent?”
“No.” It was a lie. A lie Hackett had told her to tell, but it made her stomach twist uncomfortably. She didn’t regret killing Kenson - she’d been indoctrinated - but pinning everything on a dead woman who’d had her mind stolen from her felt wrong.
“Why did you stay on the station for two days or thereabouts with Doctor Kenson, then?”
“She had intelligence I wanted to corroborate before returning to Arcturus Station.”
Though the jury couldn’t speak, their body language appeared to be more closed than it had been before. It didn’t look as if they believed what Shepard was saying.
“And that took upwards of forty hours, corroborating that intelligence?”
“That, and I wanted some sleep and medical attention after the rescue mission.”
Vogt began to raise his voice, not yelling, but talking loudly, fiercely. “It appears much more like you were having some kind of clandestine meeting, at the end of which the order was given to direct the asteroid into the relay, is that what happened?”
Her jaw clenched and she met his gaze steadily. She’d faced down Reapers, one POG wouldn’t intimidate her. “No. That was not what happened. I at no point went to Bahak with the intention of destroying it.”
That much was true. She’d struggled, staring at the image of the explosion rippling across the system, to unravel how exactly she’d ended with her hand on that button. Her finger on the trigger.
She hoped Hackett knew what he was doing.
“And yet,” Vogt theatrically spread his arms out wide, “a relay is destroyed. 300,000 dead. I know they might not be people to you, Commander, but-”
“Your Honour-”
“I retract that statement. You mean to tell this court that it was a happy little accident that an asteroid, rigged to intercept the relay, slammed into it and destroyed an entire system and 300,000 lives?”
“I don’t think anyone could call the Bahak Incident happy,” Shepard said and it was all too much - memories of Alchera and Bahak and all of it, “and clearly the asteroid was guided. But I am not the one who created that asteroid’s guidance systems nor decided to kill all those people. I am not some kind of psychopathic racist,” now her voice was rising a little, “who decided to destroy a planet on a whim. I have killed, but only in defence of my nation or Citadel space. Whatever aspersions you cast on my career, I have never killed someone because they have a few more eyes than me!”
Vogt had to try hard to suppress a grin. Witnesses who lost control never looked good for the jury. “You can characterise it however you like, Commander. Why did you leave Doctor Kenson behind?”
Shepard’s eyes met Hannah’s in the front row. Her mother mouthed calm down. She was right. She needed to keep control. It had been so much harder to hold down the anger since Alchera. Chakwas had explained it as the brain damage - the memory loss, the emotional dysregulation.
Calm down. She breathed in.The scars along her jaw prickled painfully. “The facility was overrun. I barely made it to the rendezvous myself after transmitting my message to Aratoht.”
“And, of course, there’s no evidence to suggest your version of events is the truth, and the only witnesses - Dr Kenson and the other staff at the facility - are dead, isn’t that right?”
She frowned. “There’s no evidence of any version of events besides the audio transmissions. And yes, they’re dead. If I’d been able to save anyone else, I would have. If I’d been able to save the people of Aratoht, I would have. That’s why I warned them, but unfortunately by then there wasn’t time for them to evacuate.”
Vogt narrowed his eyes. He didn’t expect a confession, but he’d be damned if he would let his case die here. “I put it to you that there wasn’t time for them to evacuate because you and Doctor Kenson didn’t give them enough time.”
“If that was the case, why would I even warn them?” she raised one eyebrow, “If you’re right and I wanted to kill a whole ton of batarians, why would I transmit that message? I didn’t want them to die.”
It was clear to Vogt that the jury was pondering the same question. “You knew they wouldn’t be able to get away,” he said icily. “And you also knew your plan was to come back to the Alliance. You were thinking ahead, you were trying to manufacture evidence of your innocence ahead of time.”
“I suppose I ought to be flattered by the prosecution’s opinion of my ability to plan on my feet like that, but I risked my life to transmit that message. And if my plan was to commit genocide, try to prove my innocence by transmitting a message that definitively placed me on that asteroid, and then hand myself in, leaving it to chance whether the Alliance convicts me or not...well I’d think that I’d be an idiot. And I’m not an idiot. I transmitted that message because I believed it was the right thing to do, and I handed myself in when asked because I also believed that was the right thing to do.”
“Chance? Is it chance that your family is paying for the best lawyer in Alliance space, or that your grandmother is a Fleet Admiral, or that a Rear Admiral accompanied you to court today?” For a moment - a brief moment - Vogt had been standing before the court a lawyer; it was him and his witness. But then he’d dragged in Admiral Shepard and Admiral Anderson, heard the gasp of the gallery and the clicking of camera drones, and he knew he’d fucked up; Castillo knew too or he would have objected. But he couldn’t back down.
“I am not insinuating that you are an idiot, Commander, or that you were acting out of instinct. I think you knew exactly what you were doing. You expressed the opinion that war between the Hegemony and the Alliance was inevitable, didn’t you?”
“Am I supposed to apologize for having a family who love me?” she asked wryly, “and yes, I have expressed that opinion before. So have a good portion of the military officers in this room, I’d bet.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps the Admiralty would support a war with the batarians. With your lips so close to so many admirals’ ears, perhaps you and Kenson decided to destroy the relay because you knew it would cause the batarians to draw weapons?”
“Like I said, I’d never spoken to Kenson prior to rescuing her from Aratoht,” Shepard crossed her arms, “I at no point made any kind of ‘decision’ with her, especially not starting a war that would kill potentially millions of my fellow servicemembers - an outcome I handed myself in to avoid.”
Vogt smiled at that. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”
A new day, another long, long conversation dragging over and dissecting Shepard’s actions in minute detail. Decisions she’d made in split seconds under fire took hours to go over. And through it all Shepard had to keep her bearing, keep calm, ignore the cameras and the eyes of the jury.
Sometimes it felt incredibly surreal that this was how her life had ended up. All she’d ever tried to do was her job and it’d spectacularly blown up in her face.
Today the person called up was Lieutenant Commander Gustaf Nilsson - a prosecution witness, and her former navigator from the SR-1. Frankly she felt a little insulted. The guy had been around for what? Two months?
Lieutenant Commander Nilsson was a tall, slightly built man like a long blade of grass, with streaks of white at his temples and a steady gaze. He looked like he belonged on a warship’s bridge even as he was settling into the witness’ box.
The Master-at-Arms directed his attention to a small piece of paper that bore a message that had been affixed to the front of the bench, asking him to read it verbatim.
“I, Gustaf Nilsson, do truly and solemnly declare and affirm that my evidence will be completely truthful.”
The prosecutor stood. Unlike Shepard, this was his witness, which meant instead of cross examining him in relation to the evidence in chief, Commander Vogt instead had to lead him in chief. "Good morning, Lieutenant Commander. Thank you for joining us. Please state your rank, full name, and rating for the benefit of the court."
“Lieutenant Commander Gustaf Nilsson. I am a Space Warfare Officer, currently the executive officer of the SSV Jakarta.”
"And how do you know the Accused?" With that, Vogt pointed across the courtroom to Emilia in the box, as if there was any doubt about who he was talking about.
His eyes slid to her and she met his gaze silently, steadily, until he looked away. “I was the navigator for the SSV Normandy for a period of three months in 2183, serving under her command.”
"As the navigator, were you a part of the command team for the vessel?"
“Yes. The command team consists of the commander, executive officer, command master chief and second officer, which on a frigate is the navigator.”
Vogt nodded. "As a part of the command team, were you aware of the goings-on of the Marine detachment?"
Shepard bit back a sigh. Vogt was really hammering the fraternisation angle.
“Somewhat. The department heads, including the Marine Detachment, report directly to the CO and XO, but I was involved in some of the meetings as well as the regular command meeting, of course.”
"Were you a part of the command team in 2183? Specifically, at the tail end of that year?"
“Yes. I came aboard after the repairs made necessary by the Battle of the Citadel. The Normandy had been without a navigator for pretty much the entirety of the Eden Prime War, with Lieutenant Commander Pressly filling both that role and that of the executive officer,” he answered.
"In around late November 2183, do you recall an action on Arcturus by the Normandy in relation to a Cerberus agent?"
“The then Minister of Defence,” Nilsson said with a grim look on his face, “the same affair involved the murder of Major General Kahoku by Cerberus. Nasty business.”
"In your command meeting, following those events, did the Accused make mention of Cerberus?"
“It was almost exclusively the subject of those command meetings. Following the death of Minister Godfrey, we had an in depth debriefing surrounding what had happened, especially considering that Commander Shepard, Lieutenant Williams and Joseph Coyle were injured in the pursuit, only to find the minister dead.”
"How did the Minister die?"
"I object to that question, Your Honour, my friend seeks to adduce hearsay as he has not yet established that the witness was present with my client and the other named soldiers."
Vogt rolled his eyes, but Castillo had a point.
"I agree. Mr Vogt, redirect the question."
"Yes, Your Honour." Vogt placed a hand on his chin, as if in thought. After a few moments, he leaned into the lectern, as if to close the gap between Nilsson and himself. "Were you told by the Accused how the Minister died?"
“Shepard told me that Staff Sergeant Talitha Draven and then First Lieutenant Ashley Williams found Minister Godfrey and her private pilot with their throats cut on Godfrey’s private shuttle.”
"Did anything-" Castillo stood and Vogt corrected. "To your knowledge, did anything else happen on the shuttle?"
“I was told in the command meeting by those three individuals that Cerberus had left a message drone which opened a channel to a member of Cerberus who spoke with Commander Shepard.”
"Was that member of Cerberus identified?"
“The Illusive Man,” he said simply.
There was pure shock in the courtroom. Castilo had known what was coming and so had braced himself. The journalists and camera drones however, frantically began to take photos and tap furiously at omnitools.
The Judge took a moment to address the court. "I would like to remind everyone that a suppression order is in place over the entirety of these proceedings in relation to any testimony or evidence that is not a matter of public record. If any confidential information is leaked that was heard in this courtroom, the publisher faces fines up to ten million credits or a prison sentence of ten years, including directors of corporations. Go ahead, Mr Vogt."
"Thank you, Your Honour. Commander Nilsson," Vogt stared his witness down. "Were you told of the conversation that occured between the Accused and The Illusive Man?"
“Draven, Shepard and Williams described the conversation to us as the Illusive Man attempting to subvert Commander Shepard, offering to cut her in on their research and provide resources against the Reapers. Shepard claimed, and Williams and Draven corroborated, that Shepard said no and the Illusive Man ended the call.”
“Where is Staff Sergeant Draven now?”
“Staff Sergeant Talitha Draven, and her wife, Damage Controlman First Class Rosamund Draven, were killed in action when the Normandy was destroyed over Alchera,” Nilsson said, with an appropriately mournful expression.
Son of a bitch. Draven had hated him.
“So you have just testified that-”
Castillo wouldn’t have a bar of that. “You Honour, do we need a recap after every sentence that leaves a witness's mouth?”
The Captain looked down his nose at Vogt. “Rephrase or don’t ask it.”
Vogt shot a sideways glance at Castillo. “Were you aware that Lieutenant Commander Shepard and Lieutenant Williams were in a romantic relationship at that point?”
“No. I knew they were close, perhaps closer than I thought was appropriate, but I wasn’t certain. It was relatively common knowledge aboard that Shepard had a ‘soft spot’ for Williams, and there were times I thought was prejudicial to good order and discipline.”
“You thought she had an unorthodox leadership style?”
“At times, yes. She was respected, but there were times I thought she showed a preference towards certain members of the crew, particularly Williams.”
Vogt nodded slowly. “And, I imagine, Lieutenant Williams had a soft spot for Commander Shepard?”
“Certainly. Even if I was unaware of the full extent of their relationship, it was clear the regard was mutual. Williams was very familiar with both her subordinate enlisted Marines and her superiors.”
“So as far as you are aware, of the three people who witnessed that conversation, one is dead, and the other two are lovers?”
“Yes.”
Shepard kept her expression smooth, but internally she fantasised about punching Nilsson right in the face. She’d talked so bloody candidly in those meetings because she’d trusted them. She’d trusted him.
“Would you say that we could trust their testimony as to what happened in that room?”
“Your Honour, this witness could not possibly to speak to that.” There was a note of panic in Castillo’s voice, but the law did support him.
The Judge simply nodded.
“I apologise, Your Honour. Were you surprised when, two years later, Commander Shepard turned up working for Cerberus?”
“Yes, I was. I was under the impression that Commander Shepard hated Cerberus to the point of irrationality, and Lieutenant Moreau testified to the fact that she had been trapped in the wreckage. It was a shock at the time. Then, frankly, I started wondering if I’d really known her if that hatred she’d displayed so prominently wasn’t real.”
Vogt couldn’t have asked for a better response if he’d scripted it. “You began to think there might have been a facade she put up in front of the crew, to ally their suspicions?”
Castillo tried to object.
“This is relevant to exactly what the witness was thinking at the time, based on his experiences with the Accused.”
“Leading then!” Castillo protested, face reddening once more.
“It seems to me that my friend does not want this question answered.”
“I’ll allow the question,” the Judge said finally, quelling the argument. “Carry on, Mr Vogt.”
“Did you think something to that effect, Commander Nilsson?”
“It crossed my mind, yes. The Commander Shepard I thought I knew was very much a paragon of the Alliance Navy. I might not have agreed with her on everything, but who couldn’t help but be a little starstruck when serving with a Star of Terra recipient? But she was very insistent that she hated Cerberus, that she was reluctant even to hand over the anti-Cerberus mission tasking to another N7, and that is so incongruent with her actions since then. And then the thought did occur to me that the only people present were her lover and her lover’s friend who is now dead.”
“How would you characterise the Accused’s… insistence to chase Cerberus down, with the benefit of hindsight?”
Nilsson frowned contemplatively, “I don’t know. Like she didn’t want anyone else to be in charge of it.”
“You think it’s possible that she was keeping people away so she could communicate with them directly?”
“I can’t say definitively, but it’s possible.”
The question and response had been so quick, Castillo missed the objection. “On the night the Normandy was destroyed, did you see Shepard get trapped, or die?”
“No, I didn’t. I was on a lower deck.”
"Who was in command when Shepard couldn't be found?"
“I took command following the evacuation.”
"Were you told what had happened to the Accused by any of the crew?"
“Yes. Flight Lieutenant Moreau reported to me that Commander Shepard had never gotten on the bridge escape pod - that she’d been trapped by debris when a bulkhead collapsed. He wanted to go to her aid but she launched the pod before he could.”
"And it's generally accepted that she died in the attack, isn't it?"
“Yes. When the mass effect core went critical - well, it’s incredibly unlikely any human could survive that. In addition, I was part of the recovery task force sent some months later, and we retrieved bone fragments that were identified via DNA to most of the missing crew, including several fragments that were identified as Shepard’s.”
Shepard’s stomach twisted uncomfortably and without thinking she raised a hand and rubbed at her aching shoulder.
"But the full remains were never found, she was simply presumed killed-in-action?" It was a bizarre line of questioning, one that no lawyer would think they'd ever have to make.
"Your Honour, I believe my friend has already accepted that Commander Shepard was dead at the disputed facts hearing a month and a half ago," Castillo said, with an eyebrow raised and mock confusion in his voice.
"My questions were not trying to adduce whether the Accused was considered dead or not - simply as to what knowledge this witness has in relation to her death."
"I see no issues with the questioning at this time," the Judge said.
"That’s correct. Only partial remains were recovered, and for a period of months, she, like many of the crew, were designated killed in action, body not recovered.”
"Just to be clear, to the best of your knowledge, was the ship that destroyed the Normandy ever identified?"
“No. All we determined during the inquest what that it was a battlecruiser type vessel that used a MHDW.”
"Did you, personally, have any suspicions as to who was behind the attack?"
“I thought maybe it was connected to the Eden Prime War, because of the use of a MHDW which at the time had only been used by Sovereign and was still in development by the Systems Alliance. But the ship wasn’t geth and what we’d been investigating was Cerberus.”
"So, in the middle of an investigation into-"
"Your Honour, my friend should not have the room to make comments as to this witness's testimony," said Castillo acidly. "I was of the impression that we had dealt with this."
"He's right, Mr. Vogt," the Captain said. "You may ask questions. If you wish to make submissions, you may do so once you've introduced evidence later or at the close of the proceedings."
Vogt glowered over at Castillo.
"Very well. Did you consider the timing of the attack and the Commander's disappearance suspicious?"
“At the time I was focused on the crew. But now, with hindsight, it does seem strange that we were attacked so soon after Hackett had ordered Shepard off the Cerberus investigation.”
"Do you believe that the Accused's earlier communication with The Illusive Man and this attack are in any way linked?"
“It’s possible. The timing is...strange.”
Vogt nodded, giving Nilsson a small smile. He'd gotten what he'd needed from this witness and Nilsson had been a good witness. Even.. eager.
"That concludes my examination, Your Honour."
"May it please the court," Castillo said as he allowed Vogt to sit and take his place standing, "I would like to begin my cross examination."
"You may proceed, Mr Castillo."
He wasted no time. "Commander Nilsson, what kind of relationship did you have with Commander Shepard?"
“We had a cordial working relationship. I certainly didn’t have lunch with her every day like some members of the crew,” his smirk said exactly what he was implying. Shepard barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The person who’d eaten with her just as much as Ash had been Pressly - and grizzled men old enough to be her father were the exact opposite of her type.
"You were subject to regular fitness reports, by your commanding officer, like all members of the military, weren't you?"
“Of course. Everyone is rated by their immediate superior.”
"And what did Commander Shepard's reports on you say, do you recall?"
His mouth pinched. “She would usually say something positive and then some critiques. I can’t remember all of the statements on my fitrep from her off the top of my head.”
"Oh, well, that's lucky!" Castillo beamed. Vogt rolled his eyes. He had received discovery - hundreds if not thousands of documents - and knew that Castillo had a copy of every fitrep written by Commander Shepard as the CO of the Normandy.
But that didn't stop the older man from theatrically producing an honest-to-god paper copy with a flourish that he'd obviously printed for this moment. "I happen to have one, all of them in fact, and perhaps we could see if your memory can't be jogged! Your Honour, I seek to enter Lieutenant Commander Nilsson's fitness reports as written by Commander Shepard into evidence."
"Any objections, Mr Vogt?"
"Except the obvious that this is a hit job on a competent prosecution witness, Your Honour?" Vogt retorted evenly. Castillo grinned.
"A legal objection, perhaps?"
"No, Your Honour."
"Very well, Commander Nilsson's fitreps are taken into evidence. Mr Castilo, what do you wish to do with them?"
The Master-at-Arms closest to the defence bench snatched the paper out of Castillo's hand which seemed to only bring more glee to the lawyer.
"I would like to have the witness read from one, dated October 12, 2183."
Vogt stood, tiredly. "Your Honour, I object. This witness did not write these reports."
"No, but he did read them," Castillo replied. "And, I'm sure, he is intimately familiar with them. Given that my friend's witness specifically testified that he did not recall the content, and this is a document written by my client, perhaps we ought to allow him to refresh his memory so that we may get somewhere today?"
"Your Honour," Vogt began, but the Judge cut him off.
"Mr Castillo is correct, Mr Vogt, though he could be correct in a less boisterous way, perhaps."
"Thank you, Your Honour. Commander Nilsson, in front of you is a copy of the fitrep dated October, 12, 2183. Would you read the second paragraph on the second page for the Court, please?"
Nilsson’s mouth was a flat line as he picked it up. “‘Lieutenant Commander Nilsson is a technically capable navigator and space warfare officer, and has quickly become accustomed to the unique operational characteristics of this command. However, Commander Nilsson has had some negative personal and professional interactions with other members of the crew including the Marine Detachment Commander, Chief Helmsman and Executive Officer. Commander Nilsson has not integrated sufficiently with the crew of the Normandy nor adapted to the unique pressures of serving on attachment to the Office of Special Tactics, which is negatively impacting his subordinates. While I recommend the Navy retain Commander Nilsson and commend his technical abilities, I do not believe his continued service should be within the Naval Special Operations Support Command.’”
"Do you hold a grudge, Commander?"
Vogt was out of his chair in an instance, but Castillo waved him off. "Your Honour, this is an attack on my witness to discredit his testimony!"
"He was a good enough candidate to provide testimony in relation to my client's command ability not fifteen minutes ago, Your Honour." Castillo was calm. "If Commander Nilsson was a flawed officer, wouldn't that reflect on my client's abilities as a leader?" Castillo's smile was sickly sweet like poison.
Vogt bristled, but said nothing while the Judge ruminated. "I note your objection, Mr Vogt. I will note that appropriate directions be made to the jury as to what weight they should give to this portion of Commander Nilsson's testimony. Carry on, Commander Nilsson."
“I thought the fitrep was overly harsh,” Nilsson admitted. “I wouldn’t say I have a grudge against Shepard.”
"But it negatively affected your career didn't it?"
“Yes,” he shifted uncomfortably, “I was transferred back to the Fifth Fleet after Alchera.”
And, he was still a lieutenant commander. Shepard hadn’t intended to damage his career - but he hadn’t listened to her, and she’d been pissed off by the business with Lance Corporal Fredricks and his interference with the Marine Detachment.
"You were a young, competent officer. You'd been granted an awesome opportunity to work on a special forces ship, but you couldn't hack it."
Vogt stood, but Castillo cut in. "I withdraw that statement, what I meant to say was you didn't make many friends on the Normandy, did you?" Vogt stayed on his feet for a few moments, but sat down again, composing himself and placing his hands on the table in front of him.
“No. The Normandy had a few officers whom...I had personal disagreements with.”
"Including Commander Shepard herself and Lieutenant Williams, who we now know was Shepard's lover, isn't that right?"
"What a lovely way to phrase a question," Vogt interjected sarcastically.
"Did those personal disagreements extend to Lieutenant Williams and Commander Shepard?"
“Commander Shepard and I didn’t have personal disagreements. I did have an...argument with Lieutenant Williams.”
"And what was that argument in relation to?"
“One of her Marines, Lance Corporal Fredricks, acted insubordinately. I told her to mast him, she disagreed, things got a bit heated.”
"Why did he act insubordinately, give the court some context please."
“I gave him a directive while aboard the ship, and he not only refused to do as commanded, he called me a REMF.”
"Was Lance Corporal Fredericks under… any additional stress at that time?"
“There'd been some...recent casualties in the Marine Detachment, and his girlfriend was pregnant, if I recall correctly.”
"So a young Marine who had recently lost dear friends in battle and was far away from his pregnant partner was insubordinate towards you, and your response was to tell the Marine Detachment Commander, who was not your subordinate, to mast him?"
“Yes,” he bit off, “I was trying to maintain discipline and Lieutenant Williams didn’t seem interested in doing that.” There was a hint of resentment there. Shepard hadn’t picked up on that at the time. She’d just thought Nilsson was too ‘Big Navy’ for the Normandy.
"In your opinion, Lieutenant Williams wasn't an effective platoon commander?"
“I can’t attest to her in field work but my experience was that because the Marine Detachment were N5s they thought they were separate to the crew and only beholden to Williams. Williams seemed to coddle them.”
"And you thought Shepard coddled Williams?"
“It was clear she had a soft spot for her. She enforced only giving orders to the Marines outside of normal duties through Williams.”
"That's not entirely atypical in a small, tight-knit group like N5s, though, is it?"
“That was my first time working with N5s,” Nilsson replied, shifting in his seat.
"And your last, because of my client."
CODEX ENTRY
Correspondence - Fleet Admiral Steven Hackett (unclassified):
From: Commanding Officer, Operational Detachment November ([email protected])
To: Chief of Defence ([email protected])
Subj: Operation Overture
Sir,
Operation Overture proceeds as planned.
Major Riley’s team has continued surgical strikes against high priority targets. Please find attached Major Riley’s most recent reports. I am pleased to report the capture of three high profile Cerberus agents alive - the rapid use of the antidote kits on prisoners has worked to decrease post-capture casualties. I have taken the liberty of introducing the use of such kits into SOP for anti-Cerberus operations. However, I expect they will seek to counteract our new tactics shortly.
In terms of public relations, limited blowback has occured as you no doubt know. However the majority of this has been reserved for the overt actions by our colleagues at the Department of Justice to arrest and interdict sympathisers in the media and corporate arenas. I have briefed the Chief of Public Affairs in case our own operations become public.
While Commander Shepard’s intelligence has assisted us in locating several Cerberus cells, we have had limited success in finding any Cerberus members associated with her own cell. I respectfully request to meet with Shepard and impress how important it is that we find Miranda Lawson especially, due to her no doubt in depth knowledge of the organisation. I know better than most how loyal Shepard is to those she considers her teammates, but Lawson’s intel could save N7 lives.
Although Major Riley has been effective in her role, I am concerned that we’re only scratching the surface. The major threat, in my opinion, is not even these external terrorist cells. While they have committed atrocities and continue to pose a risk to our relations with our allies, I fear that it is the Cerberus infiltration of the Alliance we should be most occupied with. After all, the Godfrey Incident demonstrated that sympathisers and active agents are present at the highest levels of the Alliance government. I am convinced that Shepard isn’t the only one of my own people who has been compromised.
Such investigations are not within the scope of my position, but I would be remiss if I didn’t raise my concerns with you.
Regards,
Teng
----
From: Commander Maxwell Frankston ([email protected])
To: Chief of Defence ([email protected])
Subj: Investigation
Sir,
The Naval Investigative Service wishes to speak to you at your earliest convenience regarding the incident on the 14th of August 2185. I reminded them that you are, of course, very busy, but they wish to go over your statement again.
I have also spoken to Lieutenant Singh and she reports that she is feeling well, considering. They aren’t expecting any further surgeries and she’s looking forward to coming back to work. I reminded her of your order to take some time off after she’s out of hospital, but she got that look on her face, I’m sure you know the one. I may have to lock her out of the office.
I have attached your itinerary for tomorrow. You have the Defence Council meeting at 10:00, lunch with Admiral Egues at 13:20 and your meeting with the Prime Minister at 15:40.
Regards,
Max
Chapter 4: Cardiac Arrest
Chapter Text
Shepard woke in the dark bedroom that wasn’t hers. The entire room was blank - white-painted walls, white sheets and pillows, cupboard devoid of anything of hers except the uniforms she wore to court and the Threat Analysis Office.
She never felt more like an imposter than when she put on her dress whites and all the medals from her previous life. Like she was inhabiting some other woman’s life and accomplishments.
Shepard’s side ached as she sat up, facing one of those blank walls. She looked down, pulling her sleep shirt up and winced. The skin had split along one of her ribs. There was dried blood on her side and the soft glow of cybernetics underneath.
Imposter. Traitor.
She looked down, at the hands on her lap. They felt like someone else’s.
“Shepard.”
The familiar voice was like a jolt of electricity. She turned, her heart in her mouth.
Ashley stood in the doorway in the same hardsuit she’d been wearing the day Shepard had died, dim hallway light sinking into the dark of her hair, outlining the sweep of her cheekbone, the strong profile of her nose. She was beautiful.
She wasn’t meant to be here.
“Ash,” Shepard began but then Ash was standing in front of her, looming over her. Her gauntleted hands were cupping Shepard’s jaw and she was staring at her with intense blue eyes.
Blue? No, that was wrong.
This was all wrong.
“Ash,” she began.
There was something worming beneath the copper of Ashley’s skin. No - not Ashley, this couldn’t be her, with the cold blue light coming out of its eyes. She tried to push it away but the grip on her face tightened - tightened -
“You betrayed me,” it said in the voice of the woman she loved.
“No-” She couldn’t reach the familiar buzz of her biotics, couldn’t push away the iron hands, couldn’t think through the pressure -
“-Shepard,” a hand on her shoulder.
She came to reality abruptly, the skin on her knuckles stinging. She was on her bed in the apartment that wasn’t really hers, the light on and Sergeant Vega -
Vega was half turned away from her, clutching his face.
She’d hit him, she realised.
“Mierda,” he breathed and winced, “you’ve got a mean right hook, ma’am.” There was blood trickling down his chin from a nasty split lip.
Mierda, indeed. “Shit, I’m sorry.”
She was shivering, she realised, clammy from the fading rush of adrenaline. Her side and her head hurt.
“It’s okay,” Vega said, “shoulda known better than to grab you when you were having a nightmare.”
“Think there’s a first aid kit in the bathroom,” she said, lurching to her feet. Her hands were shaking.
“Shepard, that’s not necessary,” he said, looking a little embarrassed, “had a lot worse than a split lip-”
“I punched you in the face,” she muttered, “it’s the least I can do. C’mon.”
The muscular Marine looked kind of hilarious, embarrassed and perched on the edge of the bathtub. The space was really too small for the two of them - she found a wad of gauze for him and some painkillers for herself and retreated to the doorway once he had it pressed to his mouth.
“Thanks,” he said, muffled by the gauze.
“I’ll get you some ice once it stops bleeding,” she dry swallowed the pills. Her head throbbed in time with her pulse. Maybe she’d get something cold for her head too.
“You don’t have to do that,” he muttered.
She smiled slightly. “Who said I’m being nice? Maybe I’m just trying to get out of more charges for assaulting my guard.”
He winced. “It wasn’t your fault, Shepard.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Once again she cursed Anderson for making sure she couldn’t be mean to Vega without feeling bad about it. He was nice and genuine. She didn’t know what to do with nice. He clearly had his own baggage to carry - the demotion and the all too understanding look he got in his eyes sometimes when her shit came up. But even digging into him to try and see what made him tick made her feel vaguely guilty.
“Do you...do you want to talk about it?” he asked when he’d followed her into the kitchen.
She grimaced and decided on an element of the truth. “Ever fought a husk?”
She shuddered, thinking of that blue light shining from Ash’s face. Too many people were going to meet that kind of fate and there was nothing Shepard could do to stop it. The Reapers were coming, with their dragon’s teeth. They were coming, and Shepard couldn’t do a fucking thing to stop it.
She was playing passenger on the galactic train right to hell.
“One of my team got husked and turned into part of a Praetorian if that counts,” Vega said, going for dark humour, but it fell flat. Especially by the pain in his eyes that he couldn’t quite mask.
“Shit, man, I’m sorry,” and she meant it, “then you get it.”
“Yeah.”
“Ice?” she asked, going to the freezer.
“Thanks.”
She tossed it at him before getting herself an ice pack and pressing it to her sore forehead. “Fuck.”
He laughed, just a little. “Yeah, tell me about it. You wanna hit the gym before you have to be in court?”
At least her guard liked the gym as much as she did.
“Nah. Think today is going to be tiring enough as it is.”
“Right, your ex is testifying.”
She grimaced. She hadn’t seen Ash since that night on the Citadel, and hadn’t had a word from her since. Now they were going to be in the same place but unable to talk. “One of them, at least.”
Rita had agreed to be a fucking character witness.
“Well,” Vega smirked, “look on the bright side. How many people can say their exes would defend them in court?”
She groaned and buried her face in her hands.
Ashley had about twenty messages from her sisters and mother since Shepard’s cross-examination and she hadn’t replied to them yet. She’d told Abby about her and Shepard, back when she’d come home after Alchera, still raw and bleeding from it, and she was pretty sure her mother had worked it out, but Lynn and Sarah’s messages had been...blind-sided.
Ash had felt blind-sided. It felt like all the private pain and love and all of it - had been dragged up and dissected for public consumption.
Hackett had told her not to worry. That he’d protect her.
She wasn’t sure how comforted she was, especially now she was in full blues and medals - hell, she hadn’t worn the full Navy Cross since the day she’d gotten it - and there was a Bible in her hand. She hated all these cameras. She hated that she couldn’t even look at Emilia without her heart twisting painfully, without seeing that painfully blank expression Shepard always wore when everything was going to hell, without remembering that night before Shepard had thrown herself through the Omega-4 relay.
“I, Ashley Rodrigues Williams, swear that the evidence I shall give will be the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. So help me God.”
"Thank you for being here today, Staff Lieutenant," Castillo said as he stood to begin his examination. "I can appreciate how hard this must be for you. Please begin with your full name, rank, and current billet for the court."
“Staff Lieutenant Ashley Rodrigues Williams. I am currently a staff officer in the 103rd Marine Special Operations Division.” Hackett had promised her another Raider team now her Spectrehood was...unlikely, but she wanted her team back, damnit.
"And how did you come to know Commander Shepard?"
Fun story to start off with. “I was a platoon sergeant in 2nd Battalion, 12th Marine Regiment.” A few shifting jurors - all Marines. Everyone in the Corps fucking knew that battalion. “I was stationed on Eden Prime when the geth attacked in 2183. My...battalion, the 2/12th, was routed and mostly destroyed and I was the sole survivor of my company. The Normandy Raider team, led by Commander Shepard, found me on the battlefield and I guided them to their objective on Eden Prime.”
"After the attack on Eden Prime, what posting did you undertake?"
“I was reassigned to the Normandy as the Marine Detachment NCO on Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko’s recommendation.”
"How long did you serve on the Normandy?"
“About a year.”
"And in that time," Castillo sucked air through his teeth. "Did you and Commander Shepard enter into a romantic and sexual relationship?"
Vogt had made sure there was no hiding from it.
Ashley lifted her chin, ignoring the clicking of cameras. “Yes. We got together after I was commissioned. I was...going to be transferred but Alchera happened first.”
Castillo turned his eyes towards the ground a moment, looking mournful. Vogt shook his head, arms crossed, with a thin, pursed-lip smile. The Shepards were getting their money's worth.
"That's awful. Tell me, did you think there was any difference between how you were treated, by Commander Shepard, before and after that relationship began?"
Ash frowned. “In private, sure, we were together and she treated me as an equal. But we talked pretty extensively about the need to keep our professional relationship like it was. She still sent me on missions and she didn’t interfere with the Marine Detachment, even when I was having issues with individual Marines.”
"Did any other members of the crew give you indication that they were aware of the change in your relationship?"
“Joker - Lieutenant Moreau made a comment to that effect but no one else did.” She was pretty sure Talitha had known, but outside of that very oblique go for it comment prior to Ilos, her friend hadn’t said anything.
"Your Marines - N5 Raiders - are generally more perceptive than non-special forces Marines, wouldn't you?"
She smiled despite herself. God, she missed those Marines. “Yeah. Part of their job, really.”
"And even they didn't know?"
“No, or at least they never gave any sign that they knew, and Raiders are pretty forthright with their officers. Hell, we all know they can get rid of us if we’re f - sorry, we’re screw ups.” Gotta reign the cursing in. This was the sanitised Navy, after all.
Vogt smirked while Castillo nodded, dropping his voice to have a more gentle tone and his wizened features became somber. "Staff Lieutenant," he said. "I need to direct your attention to Alchera. I understand if it's upsetting. Take your time with the questions if you need to. What were you doing when the attack happened?"
This hadn’t been any fun when it’d been for the inquest into Alchera, and it wasn’t any fun now. At least the wound had healed somewhat. At least, if she turned her head, she could see Emilia there, real and breathing.
Ash breathed in. “I was in the cargo bay, maintaining weapons with Staff Sergeant Draven.”
"What was the first indication you were under attack?"
“The General Quarters alarm came on, and then shortly after the entire ship started shaking. When I heard the alarm, I immediately started suiting up and told my guys to do the same.”
"What was your first instinct? Where did you go?"
“Usually in General Quarters the Marine Detachment stands to in case we’re boarded, which we did, and assists the damage control team. So I went to Engineering and assisted in fire fighting between the General Quarters and when the order came down to abandon ship.”
“Run me through the abandon ship procedure.”
“All non essential crew evacuate first - there’s escape pods on every deck - usually leaving a skeleton engineering and bridge crew while everyone gets off. Then those crew members evacuate. The last people off are usually CHENG - the chief engineer - and the captain. On a frigate the MARDET Commander, which was me obviously, is in charge of making sure the pods are checked every week and usually oversees the evacuation.”
“Is that what you were doing once the abandon ship was called?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I started on deck three and made sure everyone but the crew CHENG needed were off. Unfortunately Staff Sergeant Draven refused to evacuate because her wife was still on the ship. Then I went up to Deck Two and tried to organise everything up there, which was uh...around the last time I saw Shepard.”
“Did you speak to her?”
“Yeah. The CIC had been hit, and I told her that Lieutenant Moreau was refusing to evacuate from the cockpit. I...said that I wasn’t gonna leave either. Didn’t say it, but...I didn’t want to leave without her, you know?” Her eyes burned and she struggled to keep her composure. She could feel Shepard’s eyes on her like a weight. They hadn’t talked about Alchera.
“Of course. Draven didn’t want to leave her wife, you didn’t want to leave your partner. Perfectly natural response. But you did leave, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I did. Shepard said she needed me to get everyone onto the escape pods, that she’d get Lieutenant Moreau and...I said ‘aye aye ma’am’ and I went. I got off the ship, and she didn’t.” How often had that conversation echoed in her head over the two years that followed? How many times had she questioned why she hadn’t gone with her, or reminded Shepard to put her fucking amp in?
“Even though you loved Shepard, even though you didn’t want to leave the ship without her… You knew your duty. Do you regret leaving without Shepard?”
“I...made the decision I had to. There were other peoples’ lives riding on me. I was responsible for them. If I’d saved Shepard but others had died in her place...I don’t think either of us could’ve lived with that.” It was the hard truth. She could feel Shepard’s eyes on her.
“Do you think your personal relationship with Commander Shepard impacted your ability to do your duty or follow orders?”
“I never disobeyed an order from her or Pressley, or asked for special treatment,” Ash said honestly, “I did evacuate the ship as best I could. So no, I don’t think it did.”
“That was the last time you saw Commander Shepard alive, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah.” She swallowed, shifting in her seat. She couldn’t look over at Shepard.
“When did you next see Commander Shepard?”
“On Horizon, during the attack on the colony there, last year.”
“What was she doing on Horizon?”
“The Collectors were attacking. She repaired the planetary defence cannon my team and I had installed, which damaged their battle cruiser enough it withdrew.” Maybe if they’d gotten the cannon working from the start...but man, it sure was convenient that it’d hadn’t worked until Shepard was there. Another of the Illusive Man’s fucking tricks maybe.
“And did you speak with her when you saw her on Horizon?”
“Yeah. I’d been told by Admiral Anderson she might be alive before then...but seeing her was a shock, not gonna lie.” What a fucking mess she’d felt like. A ball of anger and grief and relief and love. Afterwards she’d questioned everything - how well she’d known Shepard, their relationship. What did you do when the love of your life came back to life like a fucking miracle but wearing the wrong uniform?
But it had been real. She knew that because it still hurt.
Castillo chuckled. “I bet. Did you talk about her ties to Cerberus?”
“We did, yeah. We argued a bit about it. She told me she was only using their resources to look into the colony disappearances.”
“Because no one in the Alliance was going to?”
Vogt stood. “I believe my learned friend is questioning the Staff Lieutenant, not the literal, entire Systems Alliance.”
“That is true, Mr Castillo, you may not ask that question.”
“Of course, Your Honour. Did Commander Shepard indicate how she felt towards the Alliance?”
“She said she didn’t defect, but she felt like she had to do something about the colonies that were disappearing. She was pretty insistent she wasn’t a traitor.”
“When did you see her next, after Horizon?”
“A few months later, on the Citadel. She came to my apartment.”
“I imagine you had a more in-depth conversation at that time?”
Ash shifted uncomfortably. That was one way to put it. “Yeah, we talked a little then. I didn’t feel as...blindsided I guess. She said she couldn’t come back to the Alliance until she’d dealt with the Collectors because they’d kidnapped some of her crew.”
“Did she give any indication when you spoke that it was more than words? She had real intent to return to the Alliance?”
“She gave me a OSD with details on two Cerberus cells and research data on the Collectors. The info panned out - both cells were successfully destroyed by Alliance forces. In addition she gave me - uh, it’s classified top secret. Am I allowed to say this to the court?” God her head hurt with all the rules involved in this.
“Uh, what you’re referring to there is something that cannot be stated in court. Your Honour,” Castillo directed his attention to the bench. “As it would be prejudicial to my client to not have this particular piece of evidence adduced by this witness, I seek leave to directly address the jury in a quick submission to stress the importance of the intelligence that was given to Staff Lieutenant Williams by Commander Shepard.”
Vogt couldn’t argue. He didn’t even know what this intelligence was let alone how to fight that.
“Unorthodox, Mr Castillo, but you have the leave of the court.”
“Thank you, Your Honour. As the witness stated, there was intelligence taken directly by Commander Shepard and given to Staff Lieutenant Williams. The intelligence relating to the cells is classified, but allowed by the Navy to be adduced in court. The other… item of intelligence is an incredibly high-tech piece of equipment that is classified top secret. I cannot stress enough that this would have been the crown jewel of Cerberus technology, which was stolen by Shepard and given to Lieutenant Williams.”
The jury shifted.
“Did you have any doubts at all, that Commander Shepard intended on returning to the Alliance after the intelligence she gave to you to pass on?”
“No,” Ash said softly, “No doubt.”
With a self-satisfied smile, Castillo nodded. He looked as if he was pleased with Ashley’s testimony so far. “We’ll perhaps just jump back to Commander Shepard’s career, as you understand it.”
Castillo had spent the rest of the morning asking Ashley questions of a more mundane nature - what she thought of Shepard and whether she thought Shepard was a reasonable person or a good leader. It was a fairly stock standard affair and then the court had been adjourned for an hour for lunch.
Even though her testimony had been fair, and clearly what Castillo had hoped for, the entire time, Ashley hadn’t looked at Shepard. Shepard however, could barely look away from her. The moment she’d stepped into the courtroom, beautiful and stern in her neat dress blues, Shepard’s chest had squeezed tight at the sight of her.
When they were back in session, Ash was sworn in once more and Vogt had the chance to cross.
“I hope lunch was good, Staff Lieutenant,” Commander Vogt said.
Castillo objected. “Your Honour, this is a vacuous display that serves the factfinder no purpose.”
Shepard hid a smile.
“You sound as if you have swallowed a thesaurus,” the Judge glowered, “but I have no choice but to agree with you. Limit statements and questions to the proceedings please.”
“Yes Your Honour… Staff Lieutenant, how old are you?”
“Twenty-nine.”
“Do you happen to know how old the Accused is?”
Ash raised an eyebrow. “Thirty-one.”
A three year age gap. Scandalous.
“When did you join the Marine Corps?”
“November 2174, when I was eighteen.”
“And again, do you happen to know whenabouts the Accused join the SAMC?”
“Sometime in 2172.”
“Would you please describe your service history, as briefly as possible - when you first joined, where you were posted, what were you doing, etcetera, from enlistment to the Eden Prime War.”
“Sure. I trained as an infantry Marine after enlisting in 2174 and was posted first to Terra Nova with the 3/20th. In 2177 I attended Scout-Sniper training and was transferred to the 1/1st on Luna. In 2180, after being promoted to Sergeant I was transferred to the 2/23rd on Czarnobóg Fleet Depot and was part of the relief force from that station to Tiptree, which is when I was awarded my Combat Action Ribbon. In 2182 I was transferred to the 2/12th on Eden Prime.”
“So the first time you saw combat in the Marine Corps was after six years, even though you were already a sergeant?”
“Yeah.”
Shepard watched the way she frowned and shifted. Ashley’s confidence had grown in leaps and bounds from when they’d first met, when she’d still felt like she’d never be good enough for the Alliance, but it was clearly still a sore spot.
“I won’t ask the same question in specific detail, but generally, are you aware of the Accused’s service record?”
“Yes.”
“Has Commander Shepard ever told you the story of her Star of Terra award?”
“We’ve talked about it, yeah. She felt the media reports were distorted from what she really experienced. To be honest, we talked about Akuze more.”
Vogt smiled. "Were you awed when you met Commander Shepard, and realised who she was?"
The frown came back. “...a little, yeah, when I first came aboard.”
Shepard could barely remember that. The brief moment of hero worship had quickly morphed into more than a bit of teasing. Ashley had always kept her on her toes.
"We don't blame you. Star of Terra, lone survivor, red stripe… And you were a Marine who'd been relegated to a garritrooper position for most of your career." Vogt breathed in, deep. He had to play this just right or he could get himself into trouble. "Did you know Commander Shepard had been married prior to taking command of the Normandy?"
“Yes.”
"And you were aware that marriage was to another woman?"
“Sure. I don’t know what it’s like in JAG, but in the fleet, someone’s sexuality wasn’t something commented on and Commander Shepard, myself, and any of the other LGBT crew members didn’t hide it.” Ashley arced one dark eyebrow.
SHepard couldn’t help the smirk that leapt to her lips at that.
The barb stung Vogt, somewhat. JAG and the other support and admin divisions of the military were often considered to not be the 'real' military - Vogt didn't even get a nickname until he served on a warship.
But he ignored it, not letting his expression change. "Were you wary that Commander Shepard might try to sleep with you?"
"Your Honour, I really don't think this line of questioning is necessary!"
"We heard in chief that Staff Lieutenant Williams' and the Accused relationship didn't have any negative effects on the ship or the crew. I'd say the existence of, and the depth of it, is entirely within the realm of relevance,” Vogt shot back.
"Mr Vogt is correct, Mr Castillo. As distasteful as you may find it, you opened this door when you adduced evidence in relation to it."
"Thank you, Your Honour." He looked back to Ash. "Well, Staff Lieutenant?"
“I...no? I didn’t think at any point she was trying to seduce me.”
Shepard had done her best to ignore her own feelings back then, right up until grief, a bit of alcohol and some time alone had unravelled all her denial.
"But clearly Commander Shepard did, or nothing would ever have materialised between the two of you, don't you agree?"
“I was attracted to her, but I initiated the conversation about us starting a relationship.” Ashley shrugged.
If it had been up to Shepard, she had to admit to herself, they’d probably still be dancing around how they felt about each other. She’d kissed Ashley first but it had always been Ash who’d dared to come closer, to be vulnerable.
"Maybe, but she was the Star of Terra recipient, the N7, the Commander. She was the war hero divorcee. She was the one who would get into the most trouble if you were discovered. If she initiated and you rejected her and told someone, she might have been punished. Discharged or jailed even. She had plenty of experience-."
"Is there a point here?!" Castillo demanded.
"Is there, Mr Vogt?"
"Yes Your Honour. This is it. With all her experience at being an officer, a Marine, and a married woman, isn't it possible you acted precisely in the way she intended?" Vogt stressed the 'she'.
“I always felt safe and like she listened to me,” Ash looked off-balance for a moment, and of course Vogt bounced on it.
"Perhaps that was exactly how she wanted you to feel. Perhaps she wanted to charm you so that you would make the first move."
"Your Honour," blustered Castillo, "my friend is not asking questions!"
"When speaking to a witness, Mr Vogt, please limit dialogue to questions."
"Do you think Commander Shepard intended to enter into a relationship with you?"
"Your Honour, again I must object, this witness-"
"I'll rephrase," Vogt cut in. "Did Commander Shepard indicate to you that she intended to enter into a relationship with you?"
Shepard wondered if she ought to be flattered that they thought she was some kind of seductress.
“No. Nothing she said to me indicated that to me.”
"So you had to be the one to initiate?"
“This feels like Groundhog Day,” she said caustically, dark eyes sharpening, “Yes, I initiated our relationship.”
"And when you initiated, did you worry about your career? About getting in trouble?"
“Yeah, sure. My career is important to me. That’s why I wanted to be transferred, so we could do things the right way,” she replied, leaning back in her seat.
"But you continued your relationship even when you were still on the Normandy. She could have masted you for even approaching the topic, but you went for it anyway. Why?"
“I was in love,” Ash shrugged. “We’d both nearly died. I felt the risks were worth it.”
Shepard tried to hide the flinch at the was.
After a few seconds of careful consideration, Vogt asked, "You were in love…" He paused for effect. "Or you were both in love?"
“I can’t speak for Shepard, but we were in a pretty serious, committed relationship,” she said.
Of course I love you, she wanted to say.
"When did you complete Raider training and earn the Raider designation?"
“April 2184.”
"2184?" Vogt repeated, surprised. It was part of the act, he had to have Ashley's service record right in front of him. "But you were MARDET Commander on the Normandy for a Raider Platoon in 2183, weren't you?"
“Yes.”
"You weren't technically qualified for that position, were you?"
"Your Honour, this again appears to be an attempt to discredit my witness' testimony!"
"Not at all. Your Honour, my friend adduced that this officer was exemplary in the position, the prosecution doesn't disagree."
"I'll allow the question," the Judge said, peering down at Castillo.
“No, I wasn’t technically qualified for it,” she admitted.
Ashley had been the right choice then, Shepard still felt that. The Normandy Marines had trusted her and her mix of scout-sniper training and competence had meant she’d kept up on missions. Marines like Ashley Williams were far and few between.
Vogt spread his arms wide. "The Accused knew you lacked the specific, required designation and rating to perform the role and yet kept you on her ship for months, in that role?"
“Yeah, but it wasn’t - I was the most senior Marine on the ship after Kaidan’s death. That’s why I took over,” she shifted uncomfortably.
"And you were then appointed as a Lieutenant, on merit. But shouldn't the Accused have simply sent you away and traded for an infantry officer who had the necessary qualifications?"
"Your Honour, that's not something I feel this witness should speak to."
"Your Honour, if my friend had been in the military, he would know I am simply asking for the witness to attest to what protocol the military would require a commanding officer in the Accused's position at the time to follow."
"The question is allowed, however, Mr Castillo is a guest in our court, Mr Vogt, and I will not allow you to condescend to him due to never having served himself," the judge said crossly.
“Maybe she should have,” Ash said with gritted teeth, “but I know we had a conversation where we discussed that neither of us wanted to replace both the MARDET CO and NCO at the same time when they were struggling with the KIAs we’d taken. I wasn’t technically qualified, but I’d led them in battle. They trusted me. They were my guys. I was appointed because I did a good job in the latter part of the Eden Prime War.”
"That is true. But the fact remains that you should have been transferred, and weren't and shortly after your promotion on merit, the Accused commenced an inappropriate relationship with you. Perhaps all of that contributed to your desire to have a relationship with the Accused?"
Ash’s expression darkened. “I disagree with that assessment of the situation.”
"Be that as it may, Staff Lieutenant," he looked down at the desk, composed but avoiding Ash’s hard gaze, "those are the facts."
After Shepard’s very long, no good day in court, after Ashley Williams had disappeared from her life again as abruptly as she’d reappeared, Vega had brought Shepard pizza. Pepperoni. The logo on the box was faintly familiar, like she should remember it. Maybe she’d eaten there when she’d lived on Arcturus Station. She didn’t think too hard about the fact that she couldn’t be sure.
She smiled at Vega and ate, because she was grateful that he didn’t treat her like a genocidal lunatic, but she could barely taste it. She thought about Ashley in her dress blues and the pain in her voice when she’d spoken about Alchera, about I was in love. The ‘was’ felt like a knife in the gut.
It was stupid, to be so preoccupied with her own broken heart when she was on trial for mass murder and the galaxy was about to end. She’d thought she’d pushed it down during the mission to destroy the Collectors.
The thing about being under house arrest was the fact it gave her far too much time to think.
“Want me to get you a vid?” Vega asked, because she didn’t have extranet access here.
She shook her head. “Think I’m just gonna go get some sleep.”
If she could sleep.
When Vega was gone, she laid on the bed and stared at the white-painted ceiling.
Would the dreams come back? What was she kidding, the dreams always came back. She huffed out a breath and turned onto her side, thinking again of Ash's testimony - and the glimpse of raw pain in her eyes. How had things ended up like this? She'd killed the Collectors, or at least most of them, but she could never get back what they'd taken from her. From both of them.
Ugh. She huffed out a breath and turned onto her side, staring at the soft glow of the holographic alarm clock besides her bed. Her life was again as regimented as it had been in basic training or even N training, that alarm buzzing her awake everyday. She imagined it'd be worse in prison.
Castillo seemed to think Ash's testimony was key to disproving the treason charges at least. Ironic, considering who had called her a traitor on Horizon...
Maybe she ought to just be grateful Ash was willing to defend her.
Shepard closed her eyes and breathed in. Breathed out. She needed to sleep. A pity that house arrest had just given her mind plenty of time to grind its gears. Don't think about Ash. Don't think about her brother or her grandparents. None of them had visited, only Anderson and Hannah.
That wasn't exactly not thinking about it.
Shepard froze when she heard a soft hiss from the other room. Had that been the door opening? Was Vega back? Had he forgotten something?
Seconds passed but she couldn't hear the now familiar tread of Vega's boots - and he usually called out when he entered the apartment. Was she hearing things?
Just what she'd need. Plenty of people already thought she was a basket case.
In the next moment, she knew she wasn't imagining it. Someone was standing in the doorway, little more than a figure formed out of deeper shadows. She couldn't tell if they were human or some other species. Her heart pounded hard in her chest.
Shepard reached for the familiar buzz of her biotics but there was nothing - just the deadened numbness of the inhibitor.
Fuck.
The figure moved, arm raised - a glint in the low, low light-
Shepard threw herself out of the bed and at the figure. They toppled to the ground, Shepard on top, the breath driven from the other person's lungs in a distinctly male groan. Then there was a flash of red hot pain in Shepard's arm-
Definitely a knife.
They grappled in a deadly silence. Shepard could only make out vague outlines of her enemy through the faint light from the open door and the alarm clock but there was something on his face. A visor probably. Bastard probably had a night vision filter on.
She struck out blindly, feeling her knuckles split when they hit teeth, knocking several loose. This time the guy did cry out -
His fist impacted with her side, hard. Then he drew back his arm and there was something warm trickling down her side and there was the glint in his fist in the full light -
He'd stabbed her. Fucker! Somehow he now had her pinned.
His hand came down again. Raised again. Warm droplets on her face from the swing, copper on her tongue.
The pain and the rage and the frustration came bubbling up, all of it. She saw red. She struck out, hard as she could, roughly where she thought his head or his throat was.
He made a horrible choking noise when her fist connected and she felt more than saw the way he faltered, his free hand going for his throat. She found his knife arm, wet with her blood, and forced his wrist back roughly. He screamed when it snapped.
She was going to kill this motherfucker. Now she was on top of him in the dark. She hit him, putting all her weight and fury behind it. Something crunched under her fist. She hit him again. Again -
Eventually he stopped moving.
For a moment she just stopped, the only noise the rasp of her own breathing. Then she pushed off and tried to stand. Her legs felt weak, like a newborn foal's.
Fuck. Okay. She scrabbled for the light switch, blinking against the sudden flood of harsh white light.
The man on her bedroom floor was dead.
Dead, and wearing an Alliance Marine uniform with a MP patch on his sleeve. His face was unrecognisable, but he had dark hair, just like one of the MPs that had been guarding Shepard’s door that evening.
The pain came then, fire burning in her side, radiating until she could barely think. She pressed a hand into her side and gritted her teeth. Fuck. She needed help, quickly, or she'd die, and that would just be embarrassing.
There were MPs outside her apartment - no, no, one of them was dead on her floor, the other had to have been in on it or was already incapicitated.
Where was her omnitool? Right, on her bedside table, next to the alarm clock. It had been locked so she could only use certain apps and call certain numbers. Her mother, Anderson, Castillo and-
Vega.
Shepard propped herself against the wall and pressed his name on her contacts list.
CODEX ENTRY
Alliance News Network Aggregator March 2186:
SYSTEMS ALLIANCE REQUESTS MEDIATION
Alliance News Network - The Shastri government has formally requested the Citadel Council mediate between the Systems Alliance and the batarian Hegemony ove issues arising from the destruction of the Bahak system. The Hegemony has demanded the Alliance pay reparations for those killed, make a formal apology and hand over the alleged perpetrator, Commander Emilia Shepard.
“The destruction of the Bahak System was a terrible tragedy,” a spokesperson for the Department of Foreign Affairs stated, “but it was not an act of the Alliance government. We welcome the mediation of the Citadel Council and will abide by its decision.”
The reaction from the Hegemony has been critical. Lord Kales Haronek, speaking on behalf of the Hegemon, stated, “The Alliance is a member of the Citadel Council, whereas the batarian people have no ties to it. How can such a mediation be balanced? The Alliance says it wishes to see justice as we do, but refuses to hand over the mass murderer that wears its uniform.”
HARIBON MILITARY INDUSTRIES EXECUTIVE ARRESTED
Future Content Corporation - Jacob Houghton, the chief financial officer of Haribon Military Industries, was today arrested by federal agents on racketeering charges. Federal prosecutors alleged that Houghton assisted in money laundering and weapons trafficking on behalf of the terrorist organisation Cerberus. Haribon Military Industries is a Terra Nova based defence contractor that has come under increasing scrutiny from federal investigators in the last year over its alleged ties to Cerberus.
TERRA FIRMA SPEAKS OUT IN SUPPORT OF COMMANDER SHEPARD
Arcturus Journal - The Terra Firma party has released a statement supporting the currently incarcerated naval officer Commander Emilia Shepard, who is accused of destroying the Bahak System and charges related to working for the terrorist group Cerberus.
Charles Saracino, one of the MPs for Spacers and current leader of the party, said at a press conference: “Commander Shepard is a hero, not a criminal. She has saved millions of lives over her career. She even died for her country, and now her country puts her on trial at the word of the batarians? The same people who’ve killed our families for years? Where’s our reparations for that? It’s ridiculous.”
Chapter 5: Ripples
Chapter Text
Sunlight fell across the water and shattered into a gleam that hurt Shepard’s eyes. She was alone, except for the man sitting next to her on the park bench, no one in sight on the soft grass or the sand that led down to the bay.
Nothing but her own breathing and the cool wind whistling.
“Nice view,” the man said and took a long drink from his beer.
She tilted her head to look over at him, and knew she was dreaming. Kaidan Alenko had been dead for years, after all.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
He smiled, warm brown eyes on her. “What for?”
“You didn’t deserve to die.”
He shrugged. “I don’t think ‘deserving’ comes into it all too often.”
“You might be right.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m still sorry.” And she was. Kaidan had been good and kind and he’d died far too young.
“Let that go for a bit,” he said, “When’s the last time you just sat and watched the water?”
“Years.” When she and Ashley had been on Benning, after the war that had killed the man sitting next to her.
“Then...stay with me for a while. Try to relax.”
“I’m not very good at that.”
He chuckled. “I know.”
And together, Emilia Shepard and Kaidan Alenko sat and watched the tide coming in.
Shepard woke slowly, to the beep of medical equipment and the stark light of a hospital room. For a moment she lay there, her side burning, and tried to remember how she’d gotten here. She remembered the fight, calling Vega. Remembered him getting her to lay down on the couch while he tried to stop the bleeding, saying again and again that he’d called the medics - more to reassure himself than her, she’d thought.
Everything after that was fuzzy.
“Hey.”
She blinked and turned her head. Ashley was leaning against the wall, arms crossed and her expression troubled. She wasn’t in her uniform - just some jeans and hoodie, her hair up in a messy bun, far from how put together she’d been at the trial.
“Hey-“ she broke off coughing, her chest seizing painfully.
“Do you want some water or something?” Ashley said, as close to unsure as Shepard had seen her in a very long time. “The doctors said you might have a sore throat after surgery.”
Surgery. Okay, that made sense.
“Please.”
Ashley poured water from a pitcher on the bed’s tray into a flimsy, plastic cup and then handed it to her. The silence between them as she sipped was leaden, Ash’s arms crossed defensively across her chest. There had been a time where she’d go down to the SR1’s cargo deck just to spend an hour talking to Ash.
Looking back, she was kind of impressed at her past self’s ability to resolutely ignore her own feelings.
“Thanks,” she said at last.
“No problem.”
“I mean for - being here.”
Ashley’s expression became even more guarded somehow. “They weren’t sure if you were going to make it.”
“Ash-”
“Your mum called me, so I rushed over and sat with her.”
They’d never met before Alchera. The thought of them meeting - grieving together - made something in Shepard’s chest ache. “Where is she?”
“Getting coffee. The doctors didn’t think you’d be awake yet, otherwise-” Ash cut herself off, pressing her lips together.
“Otherwise you’d be gone already,” Shepard finished, surprised by her own bitterness.
Ash’s eyes flashed. “You’re gonna be angry about that? When you’re-”
She cut herself off.
The anger was intoxicatingly simple compared to everything else she felt for Ash - the love, the grief, the desire. “If you have something to say, say it.”
“Where should I start, huh?” Ash snapped, “You were always on about doing things the right way, and then all the things you’ve done since coming back - I just can’t reconcile that with the you I thought I knew.”
“I’m sorry,” Shepard shot back caustically, “if I didn’t live up to the pedestal you put me on.”
“I put you on? Bullshit. I thought I knew you. Did you tell me what you thought I wanted to hear all those times?”
“What? Of course not-” Shepard pushed herself up and then gasped in pain, fire radiating up her torso.
Then Ash was there, pushing her back down, expression caught between worry and anger. “Don’t be stupid.”
Ash’s hands were warm on her shoulders. Then she seemed to realise how close they were and abruptly retreated, crossing her arms.
“Ash,” she began.
“This was a mistake. I’ll just...go get Hannah.”
“Wait,” she burst out.
She was surprised when Ash did stop, glancing over at her. Something in her whiskey-brown eyes that might have been hope. Shepard wanted to tell her everything. How much she still loved and missed her.
But there was a good chance her near future involved prison - and Ash deserved better than all this.
“Thanks for coming.” It felt awfully trite.
Ash shrugged half-heartedly. “Yeah.”
For a long moment after Ashley left, Shepard stared at the door. Then she groaned and let her head thump against the pillow. What a fucking mess.
The door slid open again, and a plump Spainard with a puzzled look on his face strode in. “Mierda,” Castillo said. “Ah, you are awake. Good. Staff Lieutenant Williams just brushed past me, in quite the hurry.”
Shepard winced, “Yeah.” The pain was a low, constant throb. She blinked a few times, trying to keep her thoughts clear. “Thanks for coming.”
“Not at all,” Castillo pulled the chair beside the bed back and lowered himself into it. “How are you feeling? Still a little groggy?”
“Sore,” she said honestly, “and yeah, bit groggy. Anesthesia will do that to you. How long was I out?”
She unfortunately had a great deal of experience with surgery.
“Vega and the medics brought you in about 8 hours ago. You were sedated when the medics arrived, and then rushed into surgery. I’m sure the doctor will want to run through it with you in detail.”
“Guessing the guy got a couple of important bits then,” she said dryly, looking down at the sheet covering her bandaged torso. “Do not recommend.”
Castillo chuckled. “I’ve done a good job at avoiding knives so far - better than you, anyway. I’ll make sure I stay away from them.”
He gave her a good once over, “I went to court this morning. If you’re feeling up to it, I can give you an update, or do you want to wait until you feel a bit better?”
She rubbed her forehead and then nodded. “Now works, thanks. Sorry to give you more work.”
Again, the lawyer chuckled. “Less, actually. Well, less for now.” He lifted his hand and his omnitool sprang to life. His fingers danced over the holographic interface and a text document opened. “Espanol or English?”
“Espanol,” she responded. Sometimes it was nice not to have to deal with the translators, and thankfully both she and Castillo spoke English and Spanish.
“Of course,” he responded in Spanish, looking back to his omnitool. “My notes,” he explained, glancing at Shepard. “Essentially, I was called by Admiral Anderson about zero five hundred and he told me. I came straight away, but you were still in surgery. When I appeared at court this morning, I had to tell Captain Chakir that you had been stabbed by your guard.”
That must have been an interesting conversation. Shepard just nodded.
“He was surprised. However, Mr Vogt was not, so I imagine that he had been informed right away also. As soon as I was told about what had happened this morning…” He trailed off, clearly choosing his words carefully. “I prepared an argument to have this trial moved to Earth. Seattle-Vancouver, specifically, where the military court is. My concern was that there was some rogue element in the Masters-At-Arms, er, Division, posted in Arcturus Prosecution, of course, completely disagreed and we had an hour adjournment while he got instructions and prepared the argument.”
Castillo’s dark eyes darted left to right across his notes. “When His Honour had recalled the matter, Vogt begrudgingly consented to the matter being transferred to Earth.” With an amused smile, he remarked, “I imagine his superiors kicked his ass about it. Anyway, your home detention bail agreement has been updated.” With some flourish, he dragged a file and flicked it away. “I’ve just emailed it to you.”
Shepard lifted her hand and keyed her omnitool - or at least the limited, blocked version she’d been given after her original one had been taken along with her amp - and skimmed it. House arrest still, just in Vancouver. “Seattle-Vancouver? Never been. Had a friend who was from there though…”
A friend she’d dreamt about for the first time in a while. The fading memory of sitting beside him on that bench left a lump in her throat.
Kaidan had talked about it sometimes, his parents’ house overlooking the bay. She wondered how the Alenkos were doing. She’d written them a letter after Kaidan had died and they’d wanted to meet, talk about what had happened to him, but she’d never had the chance.
“Well, hopefully you can catch-up then,” said Castillo, absentmindedly.
Well, Kaidan had been dead three years so that wasn’t going to happen.
“Anyway, essentially, your bail agreement remains the same. The only difference is that we can call the matter on to insert your address in Seattle-Vancouver - when we know it. I’m sorting accommodation out right now as well. Otherwise, the conditions will be the same, so no wild parties unfortunately.”
“I can live with that,” she said mildly. “So long as the police guarding my door don’t try to kill me again.”
Castillo grimaced. “Yes, that was… less than ideal. But I understand that these will be separate guards from the ones who are posted to Arcturus, so they should have different…” Again, the lawyer paused, searching for the right words. “Biases,” he settled on. “And inclinations.”
“Here’s hoping. So the whole thing - including the prosecution and judge - is just getting moved to Earth?” she asked.
“Yes, exactly.” He shut his omnitool off. “ I’m going back to court this afternoon to determine how long it should take. I need to speak to your doctor first though. You’re not going to be in any shape to leave this hospital, let alone board a shuttle and sit in a courtroom all day. When it is called on when we get to Earth, the trial will pick up exactly from where we left off. Lieutenant Williams has finished her testimony.” As an aside, he added, “I believe the next witness to be examined will be… Flight Lieutenant Moreau. Under subpoena.”
“Joker,” she smirked, “Vogt doesn’t know what he’s in for with him.”
Castillo cocked an eyebrow. “Well, I will look forward to that.” His expression shifted though and he began to look uncomfortable. “There is… one other matter.”
Shepard raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“Well… The man who attacked you - I doubt anyone has told you this… You killed him. He was pronounced dead when the medics arrived for you. From what I’ve heard, he… didn’t have much of a chance.”
Shepard tilted her head. She’d been angry but had she intended to kill him? The fight seemed fuzzy in her head. She hadn’t wanted to die, and she was a N7. You hit your enemy until he stopped getting back up. “I see.”
She wondered if Castillo expected shock or regret - but he wouldn’t get it. She’d killed far too many people to feel much about it. He’d tried to kill her so she’d killed him.
Castillo’s expression flashed concern, but only for a moment. “I had a brief chat with Commander Vogt on the way out this morning. The investigation isn’t done yet, but… he wants to proceed with murder charges.”
“Murder?” Shepard demanded, fists clenching in the thin hospital blanket, “He tried to fucking kill me!”
Castillo put a hand up, “I don’t think he’ll get up on murder - he had a knife for Christ’s sake!” He said rather hastily. We’ll run self-defence, but he might be able to get you on manslaughter for disproportionate force. The issue is, well, I’m not entirely familiar with the military court process, but he may be able to make an application for a joinder of this charge to the trial in progress.”
“Fuck’s sake,” she pressed two fingers to the bridge of her noise. “Alright. Okay. Well, I know you’ll do your best with that as well. If I get convicted of what I’m already on trial for it won’t really matter anyway.”
"Not the best silver lining," Castillo murmured. "I'll let you know how court goes this afternoon. That pretty much covers what I had to say. Any questions?"
“Will the NIS want to talk to me about the guy I killed?” she asked bluntly.
"Yes, they will. But I can be present when you do that. I'll set up a time - once you've recovered some."
“Thanks. I don’t have any other questions right now.”
"That's fine. If you do, you know how to reach me," he leaned back in the chair. "Would you like me to stay a while? No charge."
Shepard was surprised when her first instinct was to say yes. She didn’t want to be alone.
She managed a smile. “I think my mum is gonna be here soon, but...thanks. I appreciate you coming by.”
"Of course," he smiled, tapping the edge of her bed a couple of times, then stood. "As I said, you know how to reach me if you need anything - and if you have any preferences for accommodation in Seattle-Vancouver, let me know, okay?"
“Will do.”
“There’s my favourite patient.” Chakwas announced, sweeping into the hospital room - past the two Masters-At-Arms, each wearing Naval Base Vancouver patches. Anderson had organised that swiftly.
Commodore Hannah Shepard was sitting on the chair beside Commander Shepard’s bed, graying hair pulled back and her face lined with worry.
Shepard smiled. “Bullshit, Joker’s your favourite patient.”
“Very well. Second favourite patient.”
“You like the pain in the asses, huh?”
“I would have left the military years ago if I didn’t,” she said, picking up Shepard’s chart. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I got stabbed a couple of times.”
She shot the younger woman an unimpressed look. “The truth, if you will, Commander.”
“Pain’s a six,” she admitted.
“I’m having some issues with hospital policy in regards to the amounts of drugs you require,” Chakwas said, putting the chart back, “but I’ll sort it out.”
“I thought you were going back to the fleet?” Shepard asked.
“I happened to be on Arcturus for a conference and I’m familiar with your particular needs. I’m currently assigned to the naval base on the Citadel and will likely return there after you’re discharged..” Hackett had asked her to come. A wily one, he was.
“Well...thanks for coming, Karin.”
Chakwas patted Shepard’s hand, avoiding the IV in the back of it, “Of course.”
“Have you heard about - Joker? And the others.”
“A little,” she said, “Please hold still so I can do a scan.” She tapped on her omnitool, bringing up the medscan app. A sheet of orange swept Shepard from head to toe. “Joker is on Earth, I believe, where they’re retrofitting the Normandy.” Shepard frowned at that and Karin suppressed a smile. Shepard was as possessive of the ship as Joker was, in her own way. “The ship ‘VI’ refused to take orders from anyone but you or Joker.”
Shepard smirked at that. “I bet Joker’s driving the drydock crew nuts.”
“No doubt. I believe Donnelly, Daniels and Goldstein are being held here on Arcturus.”
The smile slipped from Shepard’s face at that. “They don’t deserve that.”
“Anderson seems to believe they’re unlikely to see much jail time,” Chakwas attempted to comfort her, though from her expression Shepard didn’t find it particularly soothing.
She sighed. “I hope not.”
“I hear they wish to move you to Earth,” Chakwas continued, recording Shepard’s obs in the holo chart. “But it will be a good two weeks before you’re well enough to be flown there. I would prefer three, and six before they try and stick you back on trial, but I don’t believe you’ll get that much time.”
Hannah scowled. “They’re ignoring your medical advice?”
Chakwas sighed. “Another of the doctors here who operated on Shepard said three weeks should be sufficient, given how quickly her cybernetics are self-repairing. But you must take things slow, Commander. No heroics.”
“Hard to do any heroics in house arrest,” Shepard muttered.
“I’ll have a rehab plan for you - and a diet-”
Shepard’s eyebrows raised. “A diet?”
“Your cybernetics suffered damage along with - well, the rest of you. They draw on your body’s energy stores to repair themselves.”
She sighed. “Got it.”
Chakwas patted her shoulder. “You’ll be back to yagh punching shape in no time.”
“Yagh punching?” Hannah raised an eyebrow in an expression very reminiscent of her daughter.
Shepard winced. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Mhm,” Hannah sounded less than convinced.
“I need to have a look at your wounds now, Commander…”
Ashley leant against the railing, hands shoved into her hoodie’s pocket, and stared out at the pinprick of stars and the slow glide of Alliance ships past the viewing deck.
“Lieutenant.”
She flinched in surprise and turned.
Commodore Anderson, dressed in his utility uniform, joined her at the railing.
“Good afternoon, sir.”
“How’s Shepard?”
Ashley sighed. “Awake.”
Hannah’s call had woken her up at three am and she’d rushed over. The entire time Shepard had been in surgery, all she could think of was Shepard dying again, leaving her and Hannah to bury her again.
But when Shepard had woken up, they’d just started fighting again.
“She’s tough.”
Ash made a noncommittal noise. Shepard had been lucky from what Chakwas had said.
There was a steady stream of vessels past the viewing port. Two huge, lumbering troop transports, escorted by a handful of destroyers leaving the Navy’s docks for the Arcturus Prime Relay. It reminded her of watching her dad’s transport leaving, every time he deployed. Waving until it disappeared even though he couldn’t see.
“Lotta ships moving today,” she remarked.
“Yeah,” Anderson followed her gaze, “Petrovsky’s Sixth Infantry Division is deploying to Omega.”
She blinked. “Omega?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Hackett and T’Loak made an agreement. We need troops there to support the research into Shepard’s...gift.”
The Reaper IFF and what lay beyond the Omega-4 Relay, left on an OSD for Ashley to find on her bedside table. The morning Shepard had left without saying goodbye for her suicide mission.
“Here’s hoping we can trust T’Loak,” she remarked. The Alliance in bed with Terminus warlords…
“No point having your own kingdom if everyone dies,” he said with a shrug.
“True enough.”
“How are you holding up?”
Ash shrugged halfheartedly. “I don’t know.”
“I understand.”
Did he?
“Sure.”
“I need your help,” he admitted.
She glanced at him, confused. “You can just give me an order, sir.”
“I know. But I’d rather I didn’t have to. Not on this.” He scratched his cheek, frowning at the troop transport floating sedately in front of them like it’d done him a personal wrong. “It’s about Shepard.”
What wasn’t? “What about her?”
“The assassination attempt. I don’t think it was Cerberus. I think it was the same people behind the attempt on Hackett’s life.”
Great. Their own people. “Fuck.”
He smiled without humour. “Exactly. Cerberus knows her capabilities better than anyone.”
In other words, they wouldn’t have sent one baseline human with a knife to do it. “What does that have to do with me?”
“I need someone I trust to look into things. I’ll have you reassigned as my aide. Shepard is being moved to Earth, so that’s where we’re going too.”
Playing bodyguard for her ex-girlfriend. Alright then.
“Aye aye, sir.”
CODEX ENTRY
Correspondence - Commander Emilia Shepard (undelivered):
From: Garrus Vakarian ([email protected])
To: Commander Emilia Shepard ([email protected])
Subj: Hard at Work
Shepard,
I’m doing what I said I would. Back in uniform - and it feels really weird. The uniform and the whole being home part. The weirdest part is I told my dad everything. I think it was the longest conversation we’ve had in years.
The Hierarchy has given me a task force to prepare us for the Reapers. I don’t know if they fully believe me or if they’re just giving me something to do to keep me quiet but I’ll take it.
I’ve watched a bit of the trial. I still don’t get why humans get so hung up over soldiers sleeping together, but I know that must have been very difficult for you both. I also know that you’ve done your best, in Bahak and now. You’re doing the right thing.
I don’t know where we’ll both be when this thing kicks off, but I know you’ll be on the front lines. I’ll meet you there.
Your friend,
Garrus
From: UNKNOWN
To: Commander Emilia Shepard ([email protected])
Subj: Hope you’re happy
Girl scout,
You’re such a fucking dickhead, I hope you know that. You went and convinced me that we were a crew, that I could trust you and then you went and pulled this crap. You’ve got some kind of hero complex.
I can’t believe I’m considering doing what I’m thinking of doing. It’s your fault too. You’re gonna be so annoyingly smug about it when you find out.
I’m going to punch you next time we see each other. That’s a promise, girl scout.
-Jack
Chapter 6: Routine
Chapter Text
James Vega had rarely been back to Earth since he’d joined the Marines, and now he was here, in Vancouver. Not home, but at least the same continent. Just a quick shuttle ride from home, his abuela and Uncle Emilio, the man who’d put his life on the right track. His dad too, but his dad barely counted as family.
Maybe he ought to message Emilio, organise time to catch up. God knew he’d not spent as much time with him as he should.
He stared out the window, down at the unfamiliar skyline and the distant gleam of sunlight hitting English Bay. The Alliance base here was a far cry away from a lot of the places he’d been stationed - dedicated to training, administration and the military hospital, with none of the tight security and fortifications of a colonial base.
He shifted his weight from one foot to another. Orders were orders, but Vega didn’t like waiting around while trusting Shepard’s safety to some new MPs he’d just met. Even if Anderson insisted that he’d had them all triple checked.
He should’ve been there when that bastard Young had stabbed her.
“You can go in, Staff Sergeant,” Anderson’s aide told him.
“Thanks.”
He stepped through the door and into Anderson’s recently commandeered office. It was spartan, devoid of personal touches, with the only furniture the desk Anderson sat behind and a computer, light from the holo screen washing across the admiral’s decorated uniform in soft orange.
Anderson wasn’t alone, either. Lieutenant Williams stood to the side of the desk in crisp Marine dress blues, arms crossed, and a briefcase over one shoulder. Her eyes were sharp when they met his. He didn’t know her, but he could see how tense she was in the way she stood, like a rubber band close to snapping.
Shepard hadn’t talked about Williams much but it’d been clear pretty early on how she was still caught up on her. He’d been a bit curious, he had to admit, what kind of woman left Commander Shepard of all people in tangles.
Now, he thought he was starting to get it.
“Ma’am.” He nodded to her and focused on Anderson. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
“Yes. Williams here has been investigating the attack on Shepard. She’s going to go through it with us.”
“Sir,” Williams protested. Her look at him made it clear what she meant.
“I trust him,” Anderson said firmly.
After a moment, Williams nodded. “At first glance there wasn’t anything unusual about Master-At-Arms Second Class Young. While I agreed with your assessment that it was unlikely to be Cerberus, sir, I didn’t want to rule anything out. But Young didn’t have any unusual connections. Not to Cerberus nor to Bahak - he looked clean. Born in the UK, enlisted in 2179 at twenty, pretty normal couple of enlistments.”
Vega scratched his neck. “So what, this guy just woke up one day and decided to stab his prisoner?”
Williams shook her head. “I doubt it. I spoke to his supervisor, and they’re pretty eager to write him off as a bad egg. Arrived a few months ago, kept to himself. So I went to his old unit and spoke to one of the guys there - remember Sung-Ho Choe, sir? He was on the Normandy.”
“I remember him. Drove Rahman up the wall.”
“Anyway,” she continued, “Choe was at that old unit and I asked him if he remembered Young. He’d never heard of him. So I went and looked at his service record again and found a discrepancy. Everything was uploaded on the same date,” her expression was grim, “so it looks like you were right, sir.”
Vega felt like he was missing half the conversation. “About what?”
“Young was likely AIA under an assumed identity. It’d have to be someone who had access to the Navy database to create his falsified record.”
“Fuck.”
Williams smiled humourlessly. “Yep.”
“I have someone who might be able to find out more. Someone outside the Alliance,” Anderson said contemplatively.
“If you trust them, sir,” Williams said, a hint of curiosity in her dark eyes.
“I do. Until we know more, I want you both to keep this to yourselves. If I need some discreet muscle, I’ll contact you.”
“Yessir.”
After a moment, Vega had to ask, “What about Shepard, sir? Shouldn’t we let her know what’s going on?”
“There’s nothing she can do about it,” Anderson dismissed.
“Because keeping her in the dark has worked out so well in the past,” the sarcasm was clear in Williams’ voice, and when Anderson glared at her, she met his gaze steadily.
After a moment the admiral sighed and shook his head. “You may have a point, Lieutenant. I’ll speak with her.”
“Sir.”
“Dismissed.”
When they stepped outside, Vega turned to leave.
“Vega, wait a second,” Williams called.
He turned back. “Ma’am?”
She opened her briefcase and pulled something out, pressing it into his hands. A sketchbook and a tin of pencils. He blinked.
“For Shepard,” she explained, resolutely not looking at him, “she likes sketching and she must be going crazy not being able to work out, so…”
That much was true. Shepard had been particularly mercurial since she’d been well enough to be moved to the apartment in Vancouver.
“I’ll give it to her, ma’am.”
“Thanks.”
Vega stopped in the doorway, thumb hooked in his belt.
The midday sun was streaming in the glass window of the apartment, falling across Shepard on the couch. She was reading a datapad, a frown on her face and a hand resting gingerly on her abdomen. He escorted the nurse in every day to change the bandages, something Shepard always tolerated in stony silence.
She’d told him that she was healing well, but he really wasn’t sure about her going back to court next week.
“Ma’am,” he called, stepping into the room. “Good book?”
She looked up. “Weapons testing reports, actually.”
“Fun.” He handed her the sketchbook. “Williams wanted me to give this to you.”
Shepard held it for a moment, something complicated flashing across her face. “I haven’t...not since Alchera.”
“Well,” he shrugged, “now’s as good a time to start again as any, right? You can’t work all the time.”
Shepard smiled a ghost of a smile. “You sound like Anderson.”
“Admiral’s a good man,” he said, “and he’s got some good ideas.”
“I’ll think about it,” Shepard said, but she hesitated to put down the sketchbook. He would’ve liked to think it was because he gave good advice, but Vega suspected it had more to do with who had bought it for her.
“Prepared for going back to court?” he asked.
“I don’t think it’s ever something you can be prepared for,” Shepard replied, “but it is what it is.”
“True enough.”
Outside the window, the city moved in streams of traffic and pedestrians far below. It felt like nothing bad could happen here, in the midday sun, but Vega knew better.
He knew better but it was hard to believe.
A week and a half later, Shepard was back in the dock, her uniform collar doing its best to strangle her and her side a low ache.
"Before the next witness is called, counsel," Captain Chakir rumbled. "I would like to give some directions to the jury at this stage in the proceedings. Do either of you wish to make submissions on that?"
Both Castillo and Vogt stood to answer. The prosecutor looked over to the other man. "My friend is more senior, he can go first."
"Very well. Mr Castillo?"
"Yes Your Honour. I don't have any specific issue with directions to be made to the jury," He paused, pushing his chair in, under the bar table. "However, my submission is simply that motive is an issue for evidence and there is potential for prejudice to be drawn from any errant comments."
The judge nodded solemnly. "Your submission is noted, Mr Castillo. Mr Vogt?"
Castillo returned to his chair and Vogt stood, scratching at his head for a moment. "My submission would be much in the same vein as that of my friend. Perhaps I will additionally point out there are still matters to be addressed and the brief of facts is still somewhat narrow."
"Also noted. I will ensure that I am careful with my choice of words. You may sit, Mr Vogt. I will collect my thoughts for a moment."
Vogt brushed his dress whites and lowered himself while Captain Chakir began to make some notes on the display next to him. There were a few minutes of silence, broken only by the occasional cough and clearing of throats.
Once the judge had finished writing, he looked down towards the jury. "This trial has been adjourned for a period of three weeks. The reason for this adjournment was because the Accused -" he gestured towards Emilia was sat, "-was the victim of an attempt against her life. She was stabbed and required surgery. As has been pointed out by counsel, the reason for this attack is a matter for evidence. Which means that you must decide after considering the evidence.
"I would like to be clear that it is unacceptable for a member of this jury to speculate, investigate, or hypothesise about why any such attack may have occurred. Additionally, in these circumstances, the mind shall not be turned to pity or sympathy. Be assured that, should a verdict of guilty be passed, these issues will be considered by this court.
"Now, with respect to how the rest of this trial will work - it shall proceed as if no interruption had occurred. The next witness will be called forthwith, and we shall carry on. At the end of this trial, in closing, counsel will sum up the evidence that so far has been adduced. That will give you the opportunity to have your collective memory refreshed."
The judge paused, clearly thinking, before turning back to the lawyers. "Anything I forgot, counsel?"
Both stood at the same time again. "No, Your Honour," said Vogt, sitting quickly back down.
Castillo lingered, wracking his brain. "Your Honour, that seemed to be a quite perfect encapsulation of the events thus far. Perhaps I might remind Your Honour that further directions will be given prior to deliberation?"
Chakir nodded. "Yes, quite right. Members of the jury, as Mr Castillo has rightly pointed out, this is not the last time you will directly be addressed by me. At the conclusion of the trial, I will again give you directions and summation prior to you deliberating. Now, if there's nothing else…"
It was mid-morning in the court room. Today, there had been a brief voir dire - a hearing where the jury wasn't present - regarding the admissibility of a particularly thrilling scrap of the original Normandy. For some reason, it had taken two hours of submissions before Commander Vogt was finally successful in having it admitted, which prompted a gleeful Castillo to admit he was wrong and sit back down.
Shepard had had to fight hard not to fall asleep.
Now, the prosecution was bringing yet another one of their witnesses. Though Shepard thought they had no idea what they were dealing with.
"The prosecution seeks leave to call its next witness, Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau."
"Flight Lieutenant Moreau may appear."
Joker, wearing the dress uniform she’d only ever seen him in a handful of times, entered the courtroom, escorted by a Master-at-Arms, and directed to sit at the stand to be sworn in.
“I, Jeffrey Moreau, do truly and solemnly declare and affirm that my evidence will be completely truthful.”
"Thank you, Flight Lieutenant," Vogt began. "Please begin with your rank, full name, and rating for the benefit of the court."
“Flight Lieutenant Jeffrey Moreau, and I’m a Medium Dual Atmosphere Pilot, rated for Hasting and Normandy class frigates.”
"Thank you. Now let's begin, shall we? How do you know the Accused?"
“I was the Chief Helmsman on the SSV Normandy, so she was the boss lady.”
Vogt cocked an eyebrow. "Very interesting phrasing, Flight Lieutenant. Commander Shepard was the captain of the Normandy?"
"What is my friend trying to establish with this witness, Your Honour, we already know Commander Shepard was the Normandy's captain."
"Uh…" Vogt said in response. Shepard fought the urge to smirk.
"Mr Vogt, speed it along please."
"Uh, yes Your Honour. Did you have much contact with the Accused in that role?"
“Yeah. She likes to sneak up on her poor crew and loom at least twice a day like some kind of ninja. But yeah, when I was on duty, she’d come and talk to me on her rounds of the ship."
Vogt narrowed his eyes. "Your Honour, I seek the leave of this court to declare this witness as hostile."
"Your Honour, look at that face, how could this witness be hostile."
"I urge that the court remind my learned friend to not make light of a witness' testimony."
The Judge glared at the two of them. "Firstly, Mr Vogt, you will urge nothing of this court. Secondly, I will remind Mr Castillo that if he has an objection, he does so in the proper form. This witness is now hostile. You may continue, Mr Vogt."
"Did she talk to you about personal matters, Flight Lieutenant?"
Joker, who’d laid a hand on his chest like he was offended at being called hostile, shrugged. “Sometimes. No one’s an island on a frigate, even stoic N7s.”
"Did she talk to you about her relationship with Lieutenant Williams?"
“I don’t think that ever came up.”
"Did you suspect there was something more than a professional relationship between them?"
Joker’s gaze sharpened. “Yeah, I suspected. Williams and I were friends.”
"Did you ever counsel the Accused - or Lieutenant Williams - that it was inappropriate to engage in something like that?"
“Nope,” he popped the ‘p’.
Vogt scratched his head. "Alright. Let's go now to Alchera. What were you doing when the Normandy was attacked?"
“Flying the ship.”
"That's good, considering you were the Chief Helmsman" Vogt remarked, "And-"
Castillo stood. "Your Honour," he said with mock concern, "does the court benefit from my friend quipping like he's in a vid?"
"You are both," the Judge enunciated and stressed it with his hands, "reminded to keep commentary to a minimum."
"Thank you, Your Honour," Vogt said, irked. "So you were flying the ship, when did you see the Accused?"
“Shepard was on the bridge because she was observing the FTL jump we’d just made. She was the first one to realise the other ship was on an intercept trajectory and declared General Quarters.”
"And then she left the bridge, didn't she?"
“Not until we got hit the first time.She’d already ordered me to start running, but the first,” Joker took a deep breath, “the first hit severed the main gun, destroyed Main Gunnery and damaged the drive core coolant system, so I couldn’t jump. She ordered us to abandon ship then, and X told her the distress beacon wouldn’t launch so then, yeah, she left the bridge to go make sure it launched.”
"She left XO Pressly in charge of the evacuation while she went below?"
“In charge of the bridge, yeah.”
"Why wouldn't she send the X down to check the distress beacon?"
"I object to that question, Your Honour, that witness could not speak to my client's state of mind."
"I agree, Mr Vogt. Change the question."
"Was Commander Pressly a more experienced bridge officer?"
“Yes,” Joker said, looking very much like he wanted to roll his eyes, “Pressly told her he could handle things on the bridge, and she said she’d launch the beacon and make sure everyone got off the lower decks.”
"That's highly unusual, isn't it? In my experience, as a bridge officer and space warfare officer, a-"
Joker smirked. “Your experience, aren’t you a lawyer-”
Once again, Castillo found his feet. "Your Honour, if my friend wishes to give evidence in relation to what bridge officers ought or ought not to do, I think it would be more appropriate for him to take the stand."
"Mr Vogt," the Judge began, loath to agree with Castillo, "this court is not concerned with your experience as a space warfare officer or a bridge officer and frankly, I do not care what you have to attest in the matter. If you wish to adduce something, please, for all our sakes, do it through this witness."
Vogt's face burned. Castillo quietly chortled, looking very happy.
"Isn't it unusual that the captain would leave the bridge when their warship is under attack?"
“In some situations, yeah.” Joker seemed rather entertained by the objection. “But during an evacuation they do what they need to do to make sure everyone gets off.”
"Commander Pressly was more experienced to handle the bridge, did the Accused lean on him often?"
“Command teams have to ‘lean’ on each other. Yeah, he had the ship while she wasn’t on it and she asked his advice on things.”
"She was an infantry officer, it's only natural she would defer to Commander Pressly," Vogt said. "So she deferred to him when the ship and its crew were in danger?"
“Asking for advice isn’t deferring. She asked me my opinion sometimes. She asked Alenko and WIlliams for their opinions on grunt stuff. I don’t think anyone would say she deferred to them in the field.”
"But she did defer to him when the ship was in danger, didn't she?"
“I don’t think it was deferring. She asked his opinion and made a judgement call.”
Vogt pinched the bridge of his nose, frustration creeping into his expression. "And that judgment call was to leave the bridge and let the XO remain in charge, instead of the captain?'
“Guess so.”
"And you refused to abandon the ship, is that correct?"
“I did, yeah.” The levity left his expression.
"But once Commander Shepard came up to take you, she managed to convince you?"
“Yeah. She yelled at me and then helped me up, and she was right.”
"If she had remained on the bridge, maybe she could have convinced you earlier?"
“If she’d remained on the bridge she would’ve been dead,” Joker said flatly, “well...dead earlier. Unless she was hanging onto my seat or something.”
“After the Accused helped you into an escape pod, did you see her get trapped?”
“I did. The bulkhead collapsed and caught her by the legs.”
“And why didn’t she free herself?”
“It was pretty heavy, probably couldn’t have moved it by her hand by herself. I was...trying to help, but she shut the pod on me.” Joker shifted uncomfortably.
“But she’s a biotic, couldn’t she have lifted it?”
“Williams told me later she wasn’t wearing her amp at the time of the attack because it was uncomfortable to sleep in, and she was only meant to be on the bridge briefly to oversee the jump.”
“So she shut the door on you, and launched your escape pod. Did you see the Accused die?”
“No. I saw her get trapped, that her air hose was leaking, and I watched the Normandy’s drive core detonate.”
“But you didn’t actually see her die?”
“Your Honour, that question was literally just answered.”
“Rather, she could have been alive for at least some time after you left the ship?”
“Possibly, I guess, for a period. But no one survives a drive core detonation.”
“Generally not. How close was the enemy vessel?”
“Probably two to four thousand kilometres, though that’s a guess.”
“Did you see it any launch any small craft on your instruments before you were pulled from the conn?”
“Not that I could see, but... most sensors were monitored by the CIC crew.”
“So it’s possible that a small craft was launched to take Shepard from the vessel - or her remains from Alchera?”
“It’s possible, but I saw nothing to say that happened,” Joker said.
Vogt ignored him. "And you were later grounded after the events at Alchera, is that right?"
“Yeah. I lost flight status and I was given a letter of reprimand. Not much use for a Flight Lieutenant who can’t fly.”
"Fair enough. Is that why you defected to Cerberus?"
“Yeah, pretty much. Not very patriotic of me, I know.”
"And you worked with the Accused again?"
“I did yeah. Same job even.”
"Had she improved as a captain, commanding the deck?"
“From the start of the Eden Prime War? Sure, everyone gets more experienced.”
“You thought that she did a better job the second time ‘round?”
Joker gave him a look that was close to a glare, “I thought she was more experienced, especially with a crew she couldn’t trust the same way she trusted the SR1 crew. The SR1 crew was the Navy’s best of the best, the Cerberus crew wasn’t all that.”
“What were the differences between the Alliance Normandy and the Cerberus Normandy?”
“Bigger,” he shrugged, “leather seats, private sector style.”
Vogt rubbed his forehead. “Right. And the crew, how did they differ?”
“The competent ones were former Alliance, the incompetent ones were freighter crew with a dislike for blinks.”
Vogt resisted the urge to make a comment about that. Instead, he asked, “Right, and what did they… do?”
“You have experience as a bridge officer but you don’t know what a frigate crew does?”
“No, no, I mean what was the difference between the crews from both versions of the Normandy.” Despite himself, he let Joker get the better of him.
“The second crew was smaller, not all of them were military. Shepard spent a lot more time making sure everyone was doing their jobs properly. The job was pretty much the same though.” “And Shepard had a similar rapport with them as she did the SR1 crew?”
“Some of them.”
“Right…” Vogt decided to cut his losses. “I have no further questions, Your Honour.”
“If it pleases the court, I’d like to cross examine this witness.” “Go ahead, Mr Castillo.”
“Thank you, Your Honour. Good morning, Flight Lieutenant. I’ll start very simple. What setting do you normally have the climate control on when you flew the Normandy?”
Joker smirked. “22 degrees celsius. Not too cold, not too warm.”
“Perfect. What setting was it on at Alchera?”
“The usual. I find it kept me alert to not have it up too high, y’know?”
“Of course, that makes perfect sense. In your experience, is space cold?”
Vogt’s mouth was agape. He had absolutely no clue where Castillo was going with this line of inquiry.
“In my experience, yes,” Joker said, schooling his expression to ‘Very Serious’.
“Is it normally colder than, say 22 degrees, approximately what your climate control was set to?”
“Oh yeah. You’d freeze to death.”
“Wow,” Castillo said, acting as if he had never heard this information before.
“And you normally like to avoid being in space?”
“Your Honour,” Vogt protested. “I’d like to know where my friend’s line of questioning is going.”
“As would I, Mr Vogt.”
“Well, Your Honour, my friend made it a point to outline that this witness did not leave the cockpit over Alchera on that night. I am merely exploring some of his motivations for not having done so.”
“Is my friend suggesting that the decision to stay in the cockpit was based on the temperature within it?”
“In the witness’ own words, you’d freeze to death.”
“I will allow the questioning, but try not to waste the court’s time, Mr Castillo.” “Thank you, Your Honour.” Vogt took his seat and felt as if Castillo was close to sticking his tongue out at him. “So, Flight Lieutenant, you don’t like being in space, do you?”
“As a general rule, I like to avoid that. I prefer to stay inside the starship.”
“Makes a lot of sense. And you successfully avoided going into space over Alchera, didn’t you?”
“I did, yes.”
“Congratulations. Did you get a medal for that achievement?”
“Nah. Pretty sure they gave Shepard a medal for it though, albeit after she was, you know, dead.”
“That is a travesty. You got grounded, we heard?”
“Yeah, and reprimanded.”
“Wow. So you flew the ship well, avoided being flung into space and freezing to death and then they grounded you for the privilege?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“They treated you so unfairly… Did you take any souvenirs from the Normandy?”
“It was kind of...exploding, so no.”
"Another shame…" He shook his head. "I see why you went to Cerberus to work with my client."
Vogt stood, having had enough of it. "Your Honour! Is there any probative value to this whatsoever?'
"Hmm? Oh, no." Castillo replied. "I was just interested. I thought that's what we were doing, based on my friend's questioning. I have nothing else for this witness."
The courtroom was silent for a few moments, except for idle clicking of camera drones.
"I… suppose this witness can stand down."
“Cheers,” Joker drawled.
The next day, there was a new witness. Some of the original Normandy crew were stars; Garrus Vakarian, Urdnot Wrex, even Joker had some minor celebrity, but the next witness was a ghost. Not that much of a surprise from a career N7.
“Please state your full name, rank, and current billet for the record, please.”
“Chief Special Warfare Operator Josh Audrey. I am a special warfare operator assigned to SASOC.”
“Thank you. How do you know the Accused?”
“We served together between 2181 and 2183 within SASOC.”
“In around October 2182, did you witness a… negative interaction with the Accused and another member of the military you were working alongside at the time?”
“Yes, there was an interaction between Shepard and an infantry officer I found unsettling at the time, more so now.”
“Can you describe the events leading up to that interaction?”
“We were on an operation in the Traverse,” Audrey replied, very carefully not looking at Shepard. “Our team was alongside an infantry company. They were conducting a large sweep of the area, we were supposed to locate and capture or kill a high value target.”
“And what kind of interaction did the Accused have with this infantry officer?”
“There was a disagreement in regards to resources during this operation. Basically the infantry company wanted to use all the available air assets to support their mission, whereas we wanted a shuttle and gunship for our raid. Shepard stated to us that if we went in on foot, our target would likely escape, an assessment I agreed with. Shepard decided to talk to the infantry Staff Lieutenant herself, after looking him up and finding out he was Elysian. In that conversation, which I witnessed, she well, played up the fact that she was the ‘Lion of Elysium’ and her experience. He was…star struck, and agreed eventually to what she wanted.”
Vogt nodded. “Did you think the Accused manipulated that Staff Lieutenant into doing what she wanted?”
“Yes. I do think that, and I don’t think she’d even disagree with that assessment.”
“Did she do this often?”
“I saw a few instances of that. She’d use her reputation and natural charisma to get us supplies or better quarters for example. She has a very strong personality, and a lot of other Marines and sailors were swept up in that. She had a way of making you tell her your life story, and then using what she knew about you to help ‘the mission’,” Audrey said strongly.
“What was the Accused’s opinions of what she had done?”
Castillo stood to object.
“My apologies, Your Honour, I’ll rephrase to spare my friend’s objection. Chief, did the Accused express to you or other members of the team her opinions on what she had done?”
“Yeah,” Audrey sighed, “she and Joseph Coyle, our team sergeant, laughed about it after the incident with the Staff Lieutenant. Shepard joked that he was gonna ask for her autograph after the mission. A lot of the people in our team thought it was funny, and well, we benefited from it most of the time. I never saw her express any guilt about it.”
“Did anyone from the team say anything about it to her, express any concerns?”
“She was the charming, competent officer who always did right by us. No one said anything.”
“It’s not surprising you didn’t. The Accused had a firm grip on the team, didn’t she?”
Once again, Castillo stood, but Vogt corrected himself.
“What did you think about the leadership of the team?”
“Both Emilia Shepard and Joseph Coyle were very good operators and leaders. I followed them into battle without hesitation. But Shepard had a very strong personality, as I said, and there’s few who’d argue with her about anything,and there were things said that didn’t sit right with me.”
“What other things didn’t sit well with you?”
Audrey hesitated, “Some of the things that she said, or didn’t say anything when others did.”
“In relation to what, anything in particular..?”
“Comments in regards to batarians. Derogatory terms referring to batarians were commonplace in our team at the time. I also heard Shepard joke about going on a vigilante mission to kill the batarians who were accused of perpetrating the Skyllian Blitz. Said it was her retirement plan to avenge her unit on Elysium.”
Vogt looked shocked. He’d heard this before, of course, he in fact had an affidavit that swore to this, but he had to play the part for the jury. “And she said this often?”
“I wouldn’t say every day, but it wasn’t like she only said it once. She seemed to think that war with the batarians was inevitable, and that parliament was being too weak to just get it over with.”
“What did you think of when you heard about what happened at Bahak and that the Accused was behind it?”
“I thought that I’d dismissed her dislike of batarians too much, that I should have said something. That maybe after being a Spectre she thought she could just do what she wanted, and that was to attack the Hegemony, especially since Cerberus committed terrorist acts against them.”
It was unethical for lawyers to ‘coach’ witnesses or tell them what to say - though, on the defence side, some creative advice was sometimes given in how a witness should approach their testimony - but Aubrey’s answer was textbook.
“Do you think the Accused’s hatred of batarians contributed towards her decision to join Cerberus?”
“I don’t know, I...I imagine it didn’t hurt. She wasn’t a xenophobe towards other species, but Cerberus often plays up the batarians as an existential threat, and I know she felt that the Alliance wasn’t proactive enough.”
“You said before she made expressions that war with the batarians was inevitable, do you think the Accused was making a preemptive strike, before any war began?”
“It could be, yeah, or maybe she’d thought it’d provoke them, force the Alliance into it.”
Again, Vogt nodded but Castillo didn’t look too happy. “Were you… surprised by Bahak?”
“I never thought anyone I knew would do something like that. But...Shepard never had qualms about killing the HVTs we were sent after. I...yeah.”
The prosecutor tried his best to look somber. “Did you see Shepard draw a distinction, in her language, between batarian civilians and batarian combatants?”
“She didn’t kill noncombatants that I knew of,” Audrey replied, “Nor break our ROE, but she did tell us if any of the civilians we had arrested or detained went for a weapon, we were to ‘ice them’ and she’d rather have an argument with our command over it then lose one of us. She’d call the civilians blinks as well.”
“Mhmm. What were her reactions after killing batarians?”
“She didn’t really have a reaction, negative or otherwise.”
“She appeared… callous?”
“I object to that question, You Honour, my friend is leading the witness.”
“I agree, Mr Vogt. Move on, please.”
“Of course, Your Honour.” Vogt took a breath, looking down at the lectern and the datapads in front of him. “Did you have many engagements with enemy batarians?”
“A lot. The operational tempo for our unit was very high. We didn’t have a single deployment without multiple engagements.”
“Did her remarks change over the course of your deployments?”
“We took a few casualties, and she’d sometimes say some...angrier comments along the same lines.”
“Thank you, Chief,” Vogt said. He moved his t hings from the lectern and onto the table. “That concludes my questions.”
“With permission, Your Honour, I’d like to begin my cross.” “Go ahead, Mr Castillo.”
“Thank you. Chief Audrey, did you hear other officers make similar remarks to the ones you’ve attributed to Commander Shepard?”
“Occasionally.”
“Did other members of your team make similar remarks?”
“Yes.”
“Did you yourself ever, in your career, make such remarks?”
“No.”
“But almost all of your fellow servicemen did?”
“There were a portion that did, yes. I wouldn’t say almost all, but a fair few.”
“But this was in the late ‘70’s and early ‘80’s, wasn’t it? Is it fair to say there was a reasonably large amount of anti-batarian sentiment at the time?”
“Your Honour,” Vogt began quickly as he found his feet, “my friend is indicating that he intends to cross examine this witness in relation to what the entirety of the Systems Alliance Defence Force was doing at that time.”
“Whether I get it from this witness, or I ask the court to take judicial notice of the fact, I will adduce it in some way.”
“Almost any witness of reasonable intelligence and political acumen could attest to what was going on in the papers and tabloid of the day, Mr Vogt,” the Captain said. “I will allow this question, however, I will ask that it be reframed through the lens of what this witness ought to have known.”
“Very well. Did you have the opinion that there was a fair heaping of anti-batarian sentiment within the Systems Alliance Defence Force at the time?”
“Yes.”
“Did you think there was, in addition to that, a culture of indifference in some of your fellow servicemembers?”
“Within SASOC, certainly.”
“And you don’t think Commander Shepard’s remarks were simply evident of that culture within the SADF or SASOC?”
“Other crimes were committed by people with similar opinions. While the culture excused it, I don’t think that makes it normal.”
“Perhaps you didn’t, but certainly others did. Joseph Coyle, for instance?”
“Sure.”
“But you think people making those comments were indicative of a desire in those people to eliminate or destroy all batarians?”
“No, I don’t think all of them wanted to commit genocide. I don’t think that any of them would’ve been upset if we’d gone to war with the Hegemony.”
“How important is unit cohesion to a combat unit?”
“Very. You live or die by trusting the people around you.”
“Did attaining that cohesion sometimes require people to say or do things they didn’t necessarily agree with, to fit in?”
“Sometimes, I guess.”
“Is it possible that Shepard was simply repeating what she had heard, or what she thought would be expected of her to fit in, in SASOC?”
“It’s possible,” he admitted,”though I never thought of Shepard as the follower type of personality.”
“I don’t dispute that she is a capable combat leader and warship commander, simply that… She came from the regular infantry, surely she had some fear of how different SASOC would be?”
“My friend could not possibly expect this witness to know that, Your Honour!” “Agreed. Mr Castillo, please attempt to keep things in a form that our witnesses could speak to.”
“Of course, Your Honour.” Castillo considered for a moment, tapping at the lectern in front of him. “What was your billet before you ended up in SASOC, Chief?”
“I was a Master-At-Arms,” he replied.
“Did you experience any anxiety once you went from the MAA stream to SASOC?”
“Yes. The pipeline is intense and I worried about being...enough.”
“How long have you been in SASOC?”
“Six years.”
“In that time, have you seen any new operators say, or do things to fit in or achieve unit cohesion?”
“I have. Some really stupid things sometimes.”
“And have you also seen existing operators ‘haze’ or otherwise encourage new operators to say or do things to fit in?”
“I have.”
“Wouldn’t you say, then, that it’s possible that this was exactly what Commander Shepard was doing at the time she made those remarks?”
“It’s possible, though at the time of some of those remarks, she’d been in SASOC for several years.” Castillo had to concede that point. The testimony didn’t look good for Shepard regardless. He could only hope he’d done enough to undermine it.
“That concludes my questioning, Your Honour.”
CODEX
Systems Alliance Citizenship:
Systems Alliance citizenship has certain rights and responsibilities owed to those it is conferred upon, much like the citizenship bestowed by Terran national governments of which it is ultimately founded upon. Alliance citizens may serve in the armed forces, work in government and bureaucracy, hold office and vote in the Parliamentary elections. They must pay Alliance taxes and register for the draft when compelled to in national emergencies. All humans born on a colony or space vehicle (ship or station) that is part of the Alliance or children of Alliance citizens are citizens by birth. Earthers can apply for Alliance citizenship, usually when leaving Earth. This is due to some Earth nations not allowing dual citizenship; it is quite easy for Earthers to attain SA citizenship.
The subject of aliens and citizenship was a hotly contested issue during the decade after the First Contact War, with supporters arguing that it was fundamentally xenophobic to prevent aliens from gaining citizenship, while opponents argued that the Alliance was humanity’s representative and found support during the backlash against aliens after the war. However, as humanity integrated into the galactic community and other species began to settle in human space, most notably on Elysium-where close to half the population consists of species other than human-there was a social and political shift and after the Galactic Labor Party was elected, legislation was passed to allow aliens to seek citizenship in 2178.
Chapter 7: Favour Fire
Chapter Text
PART TWO: THE WORLD WILL END IN FIRE
“I have heard the languages of apocalypse, and now I shall embrace the silence.” - Neil Gaiman, The Sandman
The outpost wasn’t big enough to warrant its own habitation dome, so the small oval of thick glass that was Liara T’Soni’s window looked directly out and into the red-swept terrain of Mars. Only two hundred kilometres to the north-east was Lowell City, the colony’s capital, but the outpost’s staff, including Liara, lived on-site and rarely left.
It was easier to control information that way, and the project here may be amongst the most vital in galactic history.
Her terminal dinged. She turned from the window. The room was tiny, barely big enough to fit her bed and the desk and she crossed it in a couple of strides. But, tiny or not, it was much needed privacy.
She disliked being so cut off from her network, given how little of her equipment she could bring with her, but it was necessary. She was no engineer or physicist but her expertise and unique grapes of the Prothean language had been useful for Project Crucible when translating Prothean theories from the late war period.
She sat and accepted the incoming call.
Her screen resolved into the image of Rear Admiral Anderson in a dark office, dressed in his dress uniform. He was frowning. He was often frowning these days. A bottle of dark human liquor was visible on his desk.
“Admiral,” she said.
“Doctor T’Soni.”
“I found him.”
Anderson straightened at that, gaze sharpening in interest. “Who?”
“The deputy director of the AIA, Nathan Westley.” A man who was, by all accounts, a patriot. A career spy who’d noticed Hackett’s attempts to prepare for the Reapers, because redirecting anything as big as the Alliance was always going to spread ripples no matter how discrete you attempted to be.
“Damn,” Anderson breathed out loudly. “You’re sure?”
“Of course.” Westley had seen Hackett as a threat to the Alliance’s democracy and in his eagerness to defend it, he’d very nearly doomed them all.
Anderson was quiet for a moment. “I need to talk to Hackett about this.”
Anderson had to be weighing it up in his mind. His anger at the man for attempting to kill the woman he considered his daughter versus his morals and concern about the implications of removing Westley, violently or otherwise. Deputy Director was a political appointment and he was well connected.
The equation was rather more simple to Liara. Shepard was dear to her, but more importantly she was potentially the key to surviving the storm to come.
“I can send the proof through encrypted channels.”
“Thanks.”
When she ended the call, she stared at her screen for a long moment before she sent a simple message along an encrypted channel to Feron on the Citadel. Feron, who was currently acting as her liaison to the Shadowbroker network, carrying out her orders and advising her of key developments.
Deputy Director Westley was a paranoid, well-protected man, but everyone had their weaknesses. In the way of all too many powerful men and women, Westley had gotten away with things his agents never would - in his case, an affair with a socialite. He would often tell his wife on Benning that he was on business trips when he was visiting his mistress, and in his need for discretion he’d left himself vulnerable.
Feron’s acknowledgement came back and Liara let out a heavy breath before standing.
She needed some tea from the cafeteria.
The SSV Constant drifted sedately through the dark of space, bracketed by two destroyers, like pilot fish accompanying a shark.
Commander Rita McCormick made a slow, pacing circuit of the bridge, hands clasped behind her back - mostly so she wouldn’t fidget. It was important to look calm and collected. Especially when she felt anything but. She had to look the part of the executive officer if she was ever going to get her own command again.
Not many officers’ careers survived losing a ship.
She was lucky. She took pills to sleep at night, but she was lucky. Half of her crew had died when Sovereign had cut the Trenton in two and the stern section had been shredded by the drive core detonation. Seventy-five civilians had died when the bow portion slammed into a skyscraper on Tayseri Ward.
She was lucky.
She passed Captain Ling, sitting in the captain’s chair. He was frowning down at a datapad, creases between his dark eyebrows. He’d been tense for days - Rita could tell after three years of working together, ever since the Constant had launched for her first space trials.
This should be a simple enough mission with the Constant and her two escorts patrolling near the Exodus Cluster’s relay. Standard.
But this didn’t feel like every other time before.
The brass were nervous and that anxiety was trickling down to the servicemen manning the Constant’s bridge.
“Hey,” Lieutenant Commander June O’Riordan said when she stopped by the tactical action officer’s station. The ship’s combat systems officer had transferred in eighteen months ago and they’d bonded quickly over the novelty of being on the same ship as another Irish officer. Their friendship had blossomed from that into spending most of their time off-duty together.
“Hey yourself,” McCormick replied, “all good?”
“You’d be the first to know if it wasn’t, Commander,” June said with a small smile that quickly morphed into a concerned frown, blue eyes darting from her screen to Rita’s face. “Have you heard the news?”
Rita grimaced. “It’s all the media talks about at the moment.”
Seeing her ex-wife on the HV wasn’t exactly unusual but the context was surreal. Whoever the Navy prosecutors were making Shepard out to be, it wasn’t the woman Rita knew. And she’d seen Shepard at her very worst.
“It’s got to be hard on you,” June said quietly, gaze sympathetic.
“I haven’t spoken to her in years,” Rita replied honestly. They’d faded to ‘barely acquaintainces’ before Shepard’s...disappearance. Loving and being loved by Shepard had felt consuming, and then the anger had felt just as consuming when their marriage was falling to pieces around them. But now she barely remembered what it had felt like to be the person she’d been back then.
God, they'd screwed each other up.
“But still…”
“I’ll be fine.”
June didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t have time to say anything else.
“Captain,” one of the servicemen called, “the Relay is registering traffic.”
That was far from unusual, given the Exodus Cluster included two of the Alliance’s largest colonies.
“Scan them once they come out,” Ling replied and went back to his datapad.
Rita crossed her arms, watching June’s screen - a tactical net of the space surrounding the Constant, collated from the ship’s sensors and the CIC. The Bosworth Field and Borodino were two blinking blue icons either side of the battlecruiser. The Relay showed up like a miniature sun on the ship’s eezo and heat sensors, clear against the cold of space.
When the first ships began to pop into normal space, Rita felt ice down her spine.
June’s face went pale. “Sir! Reading batarian warships! A cruiser and three frigates - make that five!”
Ling’s datapad fell to the ground, but the captain’s voice was calm when he started giving orders. “Tactical! I want target solutions for their main thrusters and midships.”
“Aye aye, sir!”
“X!”
Rita rushed to the captain’s side.
“Keep some distance between us and them.”
That would be difficult given how fast the batarian ships were barrelling towards them, but she simply acknowledged the order. “Helm, half ahead.”
“Comms, tell EXCOMM we need reinforcements to hold the Relay,” Ling called to the sailor manning the comm line.
“Firing solutions acquired, sir!” Commander O’Riordan called over.
“Tactical, lock target primary thrusters, main gun!”
“Target locked!”
Rita looked past Ling’s shoulder at his tactical screen. Not at the menacing Rensa-class cruiser but at the smaller ships behind it. The heat readings of their thrusters just weren’t right for a warship’s thrusters.
She swallowed and spoke, well aware that if she was wrong she might be killing some of the crew of her ship, “Sir, those smaller ships - they’re not warships. They’re civilian passenger ships.”
Ling blinked and then followed her gaze.
For a moment she thought he might order June to fire anyway but then he called for an open commline.
“Unknown vessels, this is Alliance warship Constant. You are infringing Alliance space. Heave to and state your intentions, or I will fire upon you.”
Rita breathed out unsteadily. “Sir, they’re slowing.”
“Constant, this is Captain Eruz Mathat of the cruiser Krekkovan. I have under my protection close to a thousand civilians. We request asylum in the Systems Alliance. Over.”
Commodore Hannah Shepard stared out of the Orizaba’s port viewing deck and into the dark abyss of space. The black was broken up only by the distant, white-painted flank of the SSV Mumbai, one of the dreadnought’s cruiser escorts. If she looked at the tacnet she knew she’d see the blue blinking icons of the entire Fifth Fleet arranged around its flagship.
And beyond that, the Third and Second Fleets. Three entire fleets, arrayed to protect Arcturus Station, and the Fifth Fleet was beyond the Relay in Earth’s orbit.
A full half of the Alliance’s combat strength in warships within one relay jump. Hell was coming, and soon.
Her duty was to be here, and Hannah knew it, but she hated it when every fibre of her wanted to be on Earth with her daughter. Emilia had said that it was fine, but she would. She’d never admit how difficult this whole charade had been for her.
Hannah sighed. A flash of blue crossed the window and quickly disappeared. A couple of her fighters on patrol around the dreadnought.
“Ma’am?”
She looked up to find her second officer and navigator standing in the doorway. Commander Duy Nguyen had his hands clasped behind his back. His uniform was crisp and perfectly to regulation. She’d likely lose him soon to a promotion to captain and a cruiser command.
“Yes?”
“The shuttle has arrived. I’ve put the midshipmen in Berthing E.”
There was no point beating around the bush. “My son?”
“I pulled him aside and told him to report here once he’d put his seabag away.”
“Thank you, Nav.”
“Of course, ma’am,” Nguyen said, like she hadn’t done something easily labelled as nepotism. “I spoke to Major Chan. Given these kids were all trying to become Marines I thought he could take charge of them, give them something to do.”
“Excellent idea.”
Midshipman Nicholas Laurent-Shepard and his classmates had been on nearby Benning for one of the training exercises for Naval Academy midshipmen who wished to become Marine officers. Hackett had ordered all such exercises cancelled and officer trainees across the Alliance were to report to nearby installations or return to Arcturus Station.
War was coming, and the cadets and midshipmen would be needed as the replacements for the Marine officers who would inevitably fall.
But Hannah had pulled rank, thrown her weight around, made demands of the Fleet Admiral, until the shuttle with her son on it was redirected to the Orizaba.
“Where is your family, Nguyen?” She asked abruptly.
He paused, expression tightening. “My parents are still in Vietnam, ma’am. My wife is aboard the New York.”
She nodded. “My husband is staying on Benning.”
It was difficult to know where was safe, if anywhere was. She’d hoped that her daughter would be safe on Earth, but that relied on the fleets stopping the enemy here.
The selfish part of her wanted to gather them all - her husband, her son, her daughter - here on the Alliance’s biggest ship with the thickest armour, where she could see and touch them.
She shook herself, gave the navigator a small, grim smile. “Thank you for your assistance, Nav.”
Nguyen took it for the dismissal it was and was soon gone, leaving her alone in the observation deck.
It was a good twenty minutes later before the door opened again. Her son, nineteen and gangly in his Naval Academy uniform.
“Nicky,” she breathed and crossed the room to hug him tightly. He was stiff for a moment before he hugged her back. He’d always been such a sweet child, affectionate and light-hearted.
“Mum?” He pulled back slightly. Both of their uniforms were now slightly askew. “What’s going on?”
He was alarmed. She’d be the first to admit she’d not always been the warmest of mothers, and she knew she wasn’t hiding her relief very well and it was unnerving him.
On top of being abruptly pulled off a training exercise.
“We’re standing to,” she said quietly, “I can’t tell you more than that.”
He frowned slightly but nodded. “Is Dad okay?”
“He’s fine,” she reassured.
“And…?”
“Emilia is okay,” for a certain measure of okay. Nicky had been so angry at her when Hannah had told him that she was alive but unable to come home. He had no reference for the terrible burden his older sister was carrying.
“I heard on the news that some people think she’ll be found guilty,” he crossed his arms across his chest.
“It’s possible,” she admitted. Those they’d found who’d speak against her were far and few between, but they had the Relay data from the batarians that showed her ship transiting the Relay, they had the communications records that placed her on the asteroid. Ironically her attempt to save Aratoht’s civilians may have been a nail in the coffin.
Nicholas said, just stepped forward to watch the slow blinking of the stars outside the Orizaba, the burn of her escort’s thrusters. After a moment Hannah followed him to the window, resting a hand on his shoulder. When had he grown so tall?
Their moment of peace was interrupted by the intercom. “Commanding officer to the bridge.”
Something in Hannah’s chest clenched even as she turned on her heel with a hurried goodbye to her son and began to jog towards the elevator and her bridge.
Shepard settled into the dock and laced her fingers together in her lap. The court room was all too fucking familiar at this point, and it was packed as hell. There’d always been a contingent of reporters, but now half the journalists on Earth were here.
The chief prosecutor was sitting at the bar table. The verdict he had received could have been better, but the Commander was still looking down the barrel of life in a Navy prison. As he looked across to Shepard, however, he didn't look too pleased about that fact.
His side of the bar table was stacked high with datapads and Navy documents and, when he heard a voice behind him, he almost knocked a pile to the floor.
"It was a hell of a fight, Commander."
He turned, seeing Castillo in a clean, pressed, expensive suit.
"It was. Longest trial of my life."
"Ah well," the Spainard replied cheerily. "We'll see the Navy in the appellate jurisdiction yet."
Vogt gave him a nod. "I wouldn't expect any less."
And then Castillo crossed behind him, to the box that his client was seated in. "Commander Shepard," he said, eyeing the stoic Navy Master-at-Arms guard. "How are you feeling?"
She glanced over at him and gave a small, bitter smile. “Just fine.”
No one had told her falling on her sword would be such a lengthy, drawn out process. Anderson and Vega were in the crowd. She’d expected her mother to be there - but she’d gotten an apologetic message. With the fleet standing to, the Orizaba needed its captain. Ashley wasn’t there either - and Shepard wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or upset by that.
She hated it all. Being here, waiting to hear her own fate. Being here, knowing something big was happening and being helpless to do anything about it.
Castillo did look somewhat downcast when he responded. "Just know we're not done today. We've already began drafting our appeal. Don't lose hope."
She nodded. “Alright. I’ll try not to. Thanks.”
He was being paid a lot of money to defend her, it was true, but no reason not to be polite.
Castillo nodded, wished her luck once more, and returned to his side of the table.
The associate, who had been sitting beneath the bench, stood, and walked through the side door to the judge's chambers. After a moment, he returned, but didn't sit back down.
"All stand!"
The courtroom obeyed and the Navy captain entered. He bowed to the throng before him and sat. Everyone followed suit.
Shepard kept her posture strictly military, jut as she’d tried to the whole of the trial. Though usually, the proceedings hadn’t been filmed. They could take her rank, her medals, whatever else, but she knew who she was deep down. She’d walk out of here Alliance whatever anyone else thought.
"Mr Vogt."
"Your Honour." The prosecutor stood. "We return once again in the matter of Shepard. This honourable court heard days prior as to the extent of the Accused's crimes and the impact upon her victims. It also heard submissions in mitigation as to the Accused's circumstances. My learned friend and I would like to take the opportunity to go ahead and summarise the events to this point, if it pleases the court."
The Judge nodded, peering down from his seat. "Go ahead, Mr Vogt."
Shepard found her eyes settling on the man who’d convicted her of genocide and her mouth tightened. Intellectually she knew he’d just been doing his job - that no one here except herself and Anderson knew the real truth of what happened in the Bahak System, that she’d chosen to protect the Alliance by concealing that truth - but she couldn’t help the prickle of anger in her gut.
"After an exhaustive trial, a jury of military personnel found the Accused guilty of one count of genocide, one count of aggravated dereliction of duty, and one count of conduct unbecoming. The elements were made out. It is the prosecution's submission that the conduct of the Accused was so egregious, so beyond the realm of normal offending, that we would be seeking a non-parole period far beyond any normal human - perhaps even asari - lifespan and thus one may not even be set at all."
Vogt paused, either to take a breath or for dramatic effect. His face took on a contemplative, perhaps mournful expression. "While the court heard submissions in detail on the previous occasion, I would like to remind the court that an actual genocide occured, the elements of which being that a whole race, an ethnic group of batarian non-combatants has been extinguished by the deliberate conduct of the Accused."
Ouch.
Did it make it better or worse that in reality, everyone on Aratoht had been collateral damage? She couldn’t decide. She didn’t know how to even wrap her head around it. She knew she’d done it but it felt unreal.
Anderson had told her that they were dead anyway - that inaction would have killed them just as surely as blowing the Relay had. Was that what this war was destined to be? A series of atrocities committed in the name of survival?
The camera drones clicked. Vogt carried on undeterred.
"Hundreds of thousands of lives. Gone." He shook his head in an exaggerated, somewhat theatric, though solemn manner. "There was a dereliction of duty in this professional Marine that undermines the values of the entire Systems Alliance Defence Force. For these reasons, I urge that Your Honour show no leniency. For any faith in these mechanisms to be preserved, Commander Shepard should never again feel the warmth of Sol."
Jokes on you, mate, I’m a Spacer.
She guessed now was when Castillo would try and give reasons as to why she shouldn’t be tossed in the Benning military prison for the rest of her life - or at least until the Reapers showed up and the Council and/or Hackett went all ‘break glass in case of emergency’ on her ass.
As if on cue, Castillo stood and Vogt returned to his seat. "If it please the court and my friend has no objections, I would like the opportunity to do the same."
"Proceed, Mr Castillo."
"As the court has heard, there are a number of mitigating circumstances," Castillo began, before taking a long drink from the glass in front of him. Once he was done, he gently set it back down on the bar table and pushed his chair in. "Not the least of all that Commander Shepard was - quite literally - killed in the line of duty. Imagine, an SAMC officer dying in the course of her duties being charged with conduct unbecoming and dereliction of duty. This woman gave more than anyone for the SADF - Elysium, Akuze, Alchera. She is not a common criminal. She is a war hero."
It happened in a split second.
A man stood up in the crowd and pulled something out of his jacket. Shepard saw the glint of metal.
Fuck. In the split second before the trigger was pulled she tried to pull a barrier up around herself and the Master-At-Arms standing beside her. Nothing happened. The next moment the courtroom rang out with three gunshots.
The first bullet buried itself above her head in the wall. The second hit the Master-At-Arms in the arm. He dropped like a stone, grabbing his arm and screaming.
The third struck her directly in the chest. All the breath was driven out of her lungs like she’d been struck with a baseball bat. She dropped to her knees, gasping for air.
The air split with screams and commotion.
She took a split-second moment to thank Anderson for insisting she wear a vest under her uniform and then she pulled herself to her feet and jumped out of the dock. She glanced over at the shooter - Anderson and Vega had pinned him - and then focused on her unfortunate guard. Vogt had leapt across the bar table and hauled Castillo to the ground.
His face was pale and terrified. He’d probably never gotten shot at before. She dropped to her knees beside him and tried to put pressure on the wound. It was spurting bright red blood. Had to be an arterial injury.
The back of the courtroom was chaos - the mass of press and spectators trying to get out the doors and blocking the Masters-At-Arms who were trying to get in.
The judge peeked over the top of the bench. “Is everyone okay?”
“One sailor wounded, Your Honour.”
The sailor was clawing at her arm as she clamped down. He had pale green eyes and she could see the whites of them. “I need to stop the bleeding,” she glanced at his nametape, “Nichols. Work with me here.”
She inserted the old tone of command into her voice and even in his animalistic fear, he responded, letting her do what she was doing. The sleeves of her white dress uniform were soaked with blood.
She was finding it hard to breathe. Cracked ribs at best, blunt force trauma at worst.
As the throng fought its way, voices rose above the commotion. “Medics! Let us through!”
The two medics, dressed in navy uniforms, managed to force their way through to her.
“We’ll take it from here, Commander,” the more senior of the medics said as his partner pulled out a tube of medigel.
She stepped back and leant against the wooden wall of the dock, pressing her hand to her ribs with a grimace. “I think it hit his brachial artery.”
One of the medics said to the other, “Hemorrhage control, then let’s transport.”
The junior medic, a woman in her mid-twenties, looked up at Shepard. “Are you okay?”
“I got hit in the vest,” she replied, “might have some cracked ribs.”
The senior medic cocked his head. “I got this. Check her quickly.”
The woman stood. “Remove your vest and I’ll have a look.”
Shepard pulled the Star of Terra from around her neck and took off her jacket first, then her bullet proof vest, leaving herself in her undershirt. When she pulled that up, her side was already bruising, opposite the red-raw stab scars.
She glanced up then, suddenly afraid a photo of her partially bare and very battered torso might end up in the news, but the MPs had forced the journalists back towards the entrance of the courtroom.
The medic did a quick assessment. Poking at the bruises and tender areas with two fingers. “Most likely cracked ribs. It’ll hurt, but you should be fine. But you’ll need to go to the hospital and get some scans to be sure - beyond my paygrade.”
He handed her jacket back, then expanded the collapsible board to load Nichols onto.
Masters-at-Arms had finally arrived, taking over control of the shooter from Anderson and Vega and putting him into handcuffs.
Vogt looked over to them. “Masters-at-Arms, Commander Shepard needs a guard.”
Shepard resisted the urge to roll her eyes and spoke to the ranking corpsman, “I can wait for the next crew or the MPs can drive me, guys. Nichols is worse off.”
The senior medic nodded and then they put Nichols on a stretcher and rushed him off.
Captain Chakir stood, placing his hat back onto his head. "I think I have no choice but to adjourn this court to another date." With that, he walked through the door that led to his chambers, to the right of the bench. He emerged a few moments later in the body of the court, to talk to the Masters-At-Arms.
“You alright?” Shepard called to her lawyer, rubbing her side and wincing. She’d spent far too much time in hospitals recently.
The courtroom’s air-conditioned air washed over her and after a moment she put on her uniform jacket, putting her Star of Terra back around her neck. The metal was cool under her fingertips. The jacket was rumpled but there was nothing she could do about it right now.
Castillo pulled himself up, waving Shepard off. "Yeah, fine, fine. Vogt dove on top of me," he looked at his adversary. "Thanks for that."
"No worries."
Adalberto approached where Shepard was standing. "This… has never happened to me before, so I'm not sure what the process is going to be, but you haven't been sentenced yet at least, so I'm not sure if you'll be taken to prison today." He turned around, taking in the scene: Masters-At-Arms, hauling the shooter away with Vega's help; the jury and the last of the reporters filtering out of the room.
"But given this," he gestured, "I doubt it."
She just nodded.
That was when Anderson, having handed the shooter off to the MPs, approached the two of them. His face was otherwise impassive, but she could see the concern in his eyes, in the way he looked her over for injury.
“Alright, Shepard?”
“Yessir.”
He stepped a bit closer and asked quietly, uncaring that Castillo was close enough to hear him, “Think you can move and fight with those ribs?”
She frowned. “Sir?”
“It’s a yes or no question, Commander.”
She wouldn’t be a commander for much longer. If the sentencing happened without someone trying to kill her. “If I have to.”
What was her old mentor getting at?
The lawyer's eyes widened in concern and he took a step forward. "Fight? Fight who?"
Anderson’s expression was grim and he lowered his voice so the two of them had to strain to hear, “I just got a message from Hackett. A bunch of batarian ships just jumped into the Exodus Cluster - asking for asylum. The comm buoys in batarian space have gone dark.”
“It’s them,” Shepard said, numbly. She’d wanted to be wrong. She would have chosen life in prison over what was coming. She could close her eyes and see Benning burning, see Ash’s eyes turned husk-blue. None of it had ever happened but it felt as real as the past six months. Realer than her life before Eden Prime and the beacon.
“Maybe.”
“You know it’s them,” she said, slashing an angry hand through the air, “and we’re not fucking ready.”
Castillo's jaw opened and he stopped breathing for a moment. "Now? So soon? I thought we had more time!"
Another lawyer approached. Vogt. "What's all this about?" He asked, the suspicion written plain on his face.
Anderson glanced at him and said, quite dismissively, “It doesn’t concern you, Commander.”
Vogt's eyes narrowed. "Yes, sir." He glanced at Shepard. "Just remember your conditions, Ms Shepard. You're not going anywhere."
Castillo whirled on him. "Do not speak to my client again, Commander. And, last I checked, she hasn't been stripped of her commission, so the proper form of address is still Commander." He jabbed an angry finger at the prosecutor. "Now fuck off."
Vogt looked like he'd been slapped. Castillo rarely swore - and he'd never once addressed anyone in that manner for the whole trial.
Shepard studied Castillo for a moment. He’d always been in control, the entire time she’d known him. But he was part of the nightmare-inducing club of knowing what was coming for them. It frightened her, and she’d known for years - and she was a soldier. It must be pretty fucking terrifying for him.
Anderson seemed to weigh something up, glancing at his omnitool messages. “We don’t have time to do this gracefully.” He didn't seem concerned that Vogt might hear him now. “The Fourth Fleet is moving into defensive positions.”
Shit. The Fourth Fleet had been moved into Sol to protect the homeworld - despite the suspicions of the media and the various planetary governments who’d been kept in the dark about the real threat. If they couldn’t hold Sol…
“I need to talk to Chakir,” Anderson said, jaw firming. He’d assured her there was an exit plan in place for her when the Reapers showed up. She guessed she was about to see it.
His face now red, Vogt's expression shifted from shock to confusion. "I'll… get him for you, sir."
Vogt left, but returned less than a minute later with the judge.
"Good morning, Admiral," Chakir said. "I'm sorry about the mess. What did you need?"
“I understand, your honour,” Anderson glanced over at her and then back at Chakir, “I need you to read this for me and acknowledge it.”
He fished a datapad out of his briefcase and handed it over.
Chakir took it, tapping the power and reading. He paused after a moment and remarked aloud, "By the Office of the President of the Systems Alliance..."
The colour drained from Vogt's face. "Is that..?"
"Quiet please," Chakir cut him off. His lips moved silently as his eyes tracked left to right across the datapad. Once he was done, he handed the datapad to Vogt and looked over to Anderson. "I'm not sure exactly how this happened, but very well. The pardon appears to be in order."
"Pardon?" Castillo stepped over to Vogt and looked at the datapad over his shoulder, both reading together.
"As both lawyers are here, I call this military tribunal to order, at Seattle-Vancouver, Captain Chakir, Deputy-Judge-Advocate-General presiding. I make two orders this day: the home detention bail agreement of Commander Emilia Shepard and any conditions therein is hereby discharged; Commander Emilia Shepard is forthwith released from custody without condition. Any matters to be raised, counsel?"
Both of the lawyers were gobsmacked and shared a look. "No, Your Honour…"
"Good. My associate will engross the orders and provide them to counsel. This court is adjourned." Captain Chakir looked across to Shepard. "You are a free woman - and still a member of the Navy, Commander."
Vogt looked utterly defeated as he handed the datapad back to Anderson. "But, the conviction…"
Pardoned. Huh. It wasn’t quite joy she was feeling - relief maybe, bemusement at how quickly it’d just been done.
Anderson handed her the datapad. “Better hold onto this, Commander. In case anyone thinks you’ve escaped or something.”
“Aye sir.” She looked down at it in her hands and wondered that a simple document could free her from the purgatory of the past six months.
“The Normandy should be close to flight ready...and a ship needs her captain.”
She couldn’t help the smile that leapt to her lips at that. She’d missed the Normandy. Her ship, her command, her home. Her friend, considering EDI.
"Well, congratulations, Commander," Castillo said, though hastily. "But I suggest that we get going."
"Where?" Vogt asked.
“The drydock-” Anderson began but then the entire building shuddered and shook. The lights flickered. Shepard dropped her hand to her side out of habit, but she was still unarmed.
The door to the courtroom opened and Vega, who’d gone out to help the MPs, came sprinting back in, pistol in hand. He skidded to a stop in front of Anderson, breathing hard.
“Report, Sergeant,” Anderson ordered.
“Looked outside, sir,” he gasped for air, “and I thought I saw-”
“Saw what?” the Admiral snapped.
“Husks, sir. On the street.”
Anderson shook his head, as if in disbelief, “They can’t have gotten past Hackett already.”
Shepard’s insides froze. Her mother, her brother -
She forced herself to speak through numb lips, “Like they couldn’t get past the Citadel Fleet back in 2183, sir?”
Anderson looked at her and then pressed his fingertips to his forehead. “Fuck.”
Anderson, who very rarely swore.
"Husks? Geth, here? Impossible." Vogt said dismissively.
"It's not geth," Castillo said flatly. "We need to leave before we're trapped."
“The Normandy can get us out,” Shepard said, with certainty.
Anderson smiled. The SR-2 wasn’t his love like the SR-1 had been both of theirs, but he clearly understood why she loved the ship so much. “That she can. I suggest we double time it over there. I’d suggest you three join us,” he said, looking at the two lawyers and the judge.
"Definitely," Castillo said.
"What's the quickest way to the street?" Vogt asked the Captain. Vega, standing near Shepard, pulled his secondary - a slim pistol - out of his ankle holster and handed it to Shepard. She nodded gratefully to him.
"There's a staff entrance," Chakir replied, "Past the Judge's chambers and into the secretary pool. I can show you the way."
“Sir,” Shepard said.
He frowned at her. “Yes, Commander?”
“Any chance of getting this bloody inhibitor off?”
“Can’t it wait?”
Anderson had never treated her like she was a freak or a ticking time bomb, but he wasn’t a biotic. He didn’t understand how debilitating it was to lose an entire sense - how used she was to fighting as a biotic.
“Well,” she said sardonically, “I thought my biotics might come in handy if we run into any husks. Sir.”
"I can remove it," Chakir offered. He accessed his omnitool, tapping into an app and entering a few keys. In a few seconds, the software connected and the inhibitor clicked free. "There. I don't have an amp though."
Shepard reached back and practically ripped the inhibitor out of her amp port, tossing the chip onto the ground. Then she shivered as her nerves woke up’, like an intense version of the ‘bugs’ she sometimes got when installed a new amp. She couldn’t help it - she flared, blue light shimmering across her skin for the first time in six months.
“Thank you, your honour,” she said, letting the corona fade, “I can’t do anything too fancy without an amp, but if we really need it, I can probably still pull something off.”
Thanks to Miranda. It’d hurt, but if it was between dying and giving herself a nose bleed or even a seizure, she’d choose the latter.
“Let’s get moving,” Anderson said urgently, “Vega, take point.”
They fell in besides Vega, with Chakir directing them through the doors to the rear of the courtroom and then down a flight of stairs.
The world outside was loud, with a cacophony of various noises - screams, car horns, and sporadic gunfire.
Vogt broke the silence by quietly asking, "What in the world is going on?"
“The end of it,” Shepard said quietly, “The Reapers have come.” She could smell smoke. She wasn’t an Earther - she’d never felt a strong connection to the place, but it was the cradle of humanity. The Reapers would wipe the slate of their accomplishments clean.
How many people were already dying? She clenched her fists by her sides. She’d killed three hundred thousand people to buy them six months and it hadn’t nearly been enough.
"Reapers? Reapers? They're a hoax!"
“They’re real,” Shepard said flatly, “and they’re here.” She wasn’t sure where the bitterness came from, but it felt choking. What was it? Fifty thousand lives to buy one month? What a fucking deal.
"Exit is that way, sergeant," Chakir said, pointing down a narrow hallway. "And then we'll be on the street."
“Williams is already at the ship,” Anderson reported, looking at his omnitool.
"How far is it?" Castillo asked, the fear evident in his tone.
“Two klicks.”
When they emerged out onto the street, Shepard could see smoke curling above the nearest skyscraper. The streets were thick with panicked people trying to get away from - something.
The something became apparent when husks boiled out of the nearest alleyway, with gnashing teeth and grasping hands. The air was rent with otherworldly howls. One leapt onto the back of a suited civilian, bearing the man to the ground. His screams were cut off by horrible crunching noises.
“Contact!” Vega shouted and squeezed off two shots. Shepard raised the borrowed pistol - but they were fast. Husks were always fast.
One charged her and she squeezed the trigger, putting a hole the size of her fist in its torso. It kept coming. She fired again, this time into its face, and it tumbled to the ground. “Castillo! Get behind me!”
Castilo obliged, diving sideways, and then crawling back to keep Emilia between him and the husks.
Vogt stood awkwardly to the side, with no weapon and another husk appeared from the alley beside him. He backed away, throwing a sharp jab, but the creature was unphased as it easily chased him and forced him to the ground. "Kill it!" He shouted, loud as he could as the husk raised its hands.
Shepard grabbed the husk by the shoulder, shuddering at the texture of desiccated flesh and skin under her bare fingers, and ripped it off with a grunt of effort. It fell onto its side and before it got up, she put a bullet in its brain. Or whatever it still had up there.
There was no time to check on the JAG - another jumped at her and she dodged its first swipe but its claw-like hand caught in the ribbon of her Star of Terra - pulled it tight.
For a moment she choked against the pressure across her throat - strangled by her own medal, wouldn’t that be a way to go - but then the clasp broke and she got her pistol up and put the last of the heatsink’s shots into it.
The street was silent for a moment except for the stragglers of the panicking crowd. Shepard breathed in deep, lungs burning, and leant down to pick up the medal, stuffing it into a pocket.
“Vega, need a heatsink,” she said matter-of-factly.
He tossed her one and she slotted it in, catching the painfully warm one that ejected and shoving it into her uniform pocket with a grimace. One of those times where they might run out of sinks.
Castillo helped Vogt to his feet. "Are you okay?"
Vogt leaned heavily into the other lawyer, gasping for air. "Fine. Shaken… But fine." He looked across at Shepard. "Thank you," he said. "You saved me." He looked away quickly.
She shrugged. “You’re welcome.”
"If you can still walk, Commander, we can't linger," Chakir said.
"I'm not injured - let's go."
They followed Vega down the street, Shepard off his shoulder.
“The drydock facility is on the other side of the….the park…” Vega trailed off as they came to the edge of the nearby park, where the skyscrapers split apart for a kilometre.
A moment later, Shepard saw what the other Marine had seen. .
A Reaper hung above Vancouver, black as the night, dwarving the Alliance fighters that were flickering around it. Like flies annoying a lion.
Everyone was silent, necks craned to stare up.
"Sweet Jesus…" That was Vogt.
Castillo's mouth was wide open and his expression was frozen in pure horror. Chakir simply stood dumbly, head turned up and eyes fixed.
'What the hell are we supposed to do against that?"
“We need to get to the Normandy,” Sheaprd said, close to emotionlessly. She remembered Harbinger’s voice echoing in her head as the asteroid hurtled towards the Relay. You are dust struggling against cosmic winds.
The air shook with the Reaper’s voice, the screaming of horns. She gritted her teeth against it. A slash of red split the air, cutting two of the fighters in half. The flaming wreckage fell to earth.
Ahead of her, blue flashed around Vega as his clip-on barrier deflected a shot. She snapped her pistol up in the direction the fire had come from.
Something staggered out from behind the corner. It had been batarian once, but now its face and features were bulbous and melted together. A cannon was melded with its arm. Beside it were two batarians - just batarians, in dark, SIU armour and armed.
“Run!” she shouted, firing at the twisted once-batarian. Three rifles fired back, filling the air with the snap of bullets.
Vogt didn't have to be told twice - he broke into a sprint, tugging Castillo along with him. Anderson followed them. Chakir was too shocked to move. In his hesitation, his chest caught a burst, and his shoulder a second. Without armour, a barrier, or a shield, he was dead on the spot.
“Fuck!” Shepard shouted in frustration. Beside her Vega fired at it as well and it fell - but there were more coming, attracted by the gunfire.
“I’ll cover you!” Vega shouted, “Go!”
Goddamnit. She gathered herself and dashed across the open stretch of road and tossed herself behind the nearest bit of cover - the park sign. She fired blindly in the direction of the batarian husk-thing and its companions. “Set!”
The old processes were coming back, like riding a bike again.
Vega didn’t wait, barrelling across the road as she did her best to cover him. Once he was off the street, she grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him along with her, running to catch up with the three men ahead of them.
As they neared the end of the street, they stopped, Castillo doubling over to catch his breath. "Haven't run like that… in years…" He muttered.
Vogt asked, "If we can hail the Normandy, could they get a shuttle to us?"
Shepard considered. “Yeah...The clearing over there should be big enough for a Kodiak, if it’s got a good pilot.”
“Esteban can do it,” Vega said confidently.
Shepard blinked at him. “Who?”
“Lieutenant Cortez,” he shrugged, “he’s the flight deck officer assigned to the retrofits. Used to be a fighter jock. He can do it, easy.”
Anderson tapped his comm implant, “Williams? Williams, it’s Anderson. You’re at the Normandy? Good. Sending you a nav point - we need a shuttle extract from our location. Yes, Shepard is with me.”
Something in Shepard’s chest unclenched. If Ash was aboard the Normandy, she was as close to safe as anyone on Earth could be right now.
Anderson ended the call. “Lieutenant Williams is organising a shuttle. I suggest we keep our heads down until the Kodiak can pick us up.”
"Yessir," Vogt said. "Is there a spare weapon? If I have a weapon, I could protect Adalberto and Captain-" he paused, blinked, and looked around. "Where's Captain Chakir?"
“Dead,” Shepard said flatly.
Vogt's face fell, and he looked back the way they had come. It seemed for a moment that he was considering going back, but he made no effort to leave.
"We should get off this road and hunker down," Castillo suggested helpfully.
Hiding amongst the trees of a park wasn’t exactly the start to the war Staff Sergeant James Vega had expected. He crouched behind a stump, pistol held between his sweaty palms. Beside him was one of the lawyers - Commander Vogt. Anderson had given the JAG his spare.
Carrying two pistols had come in handy after all.
Above them the Reaper was making that awful noise, the sky burning with the red fire of its beam weapons. In the distance he could hear the rumble of a building collapsing. For a moment, when he blinked, he could see the scene transposed onto the more familiar skyline of San Diego.
He shook himself. He had to get Shepard out, those were his orders. Stick to Shepard like her shadow, Anderson had said. Then he could start the real fight. He just hoped his uncle, even his dad, had made it out. He’d only been able to send a quick message.
“Hope you’re a good shot,” he remarked.
The lawyer shrugged. "Good enough," he replied. "I passed my quals. Never fired a round in combat though." After a few seconds of silence, he added, almost absentmindedly. "I never thought any of this was real. I keep hoping someone will wake me up from this nightmare. The smell…"
“Yeah,” Vega said, swallowing, “Just knowin’ they’re all over San Diego...fuck.”
"San Diego…" Vogt repeated, finally peeling his eyes away from the horror in front of him. "Your hometown?"
“Yeah. I was so glad to leave but now…” he shook his head.
"You want to be fighting on your own streets," Vogt finished the thought. "I get it…"
After a moment's hesitation, he said, "I'm from Adelaide. Australia. Love that place dearly, but I used to call it a prison. It's why I joined the Navy - see the stars, do something good and, when I'm ready, I'll go home on my own terms." Not anymore.
"I guess, now, we just make sure we live to see San Diego and Adelaide again."
He nodded. “Exactly.”
Vega looked up at the familiar sound of a Kodiak’s thrusters. It came in hard and low, fast enough he wondered for a split second if it’d pull up in time. But he shouldn’t have doubted Esteban - it came down gently in the open grass of the park, the blue glow of its thrusters scorching the ground beneath it. It didn’t fully land - clearly Steve wanted out of here as soon as his passengers were on board.
The side door folded upwards, framing an armoured Lieutenant Williams. “Taxi’s here, sir!”
"Thank God!" Castillo jumped to his feet and raced over to the door. Vogt pursued, sticking closely behind.
Anderson followed them, nodding to the lieutenant. She reached down and held out a hand to Castillo. It was quite the step up.
Castillo took it gratefully. He was on the heavier side so Vogt helped to push him up. When Castillo was safely on board, he also held his hand up and Williams hauled him aboard, followed by Anderson.
There was a split-second of hesitation when Shepard stepped up, but then she too took William’s armoured hand and was helped up.
Vega was last. As soon as he was onboard he stuck his head through the cockpit door. “Look at you, Esteban! Playin’ the fuckin’ cavalry!”
Cortez hit the thrusters hard, and Vega had to grab the sides of the doorway to stay upright. Then, he tossed a quick grin over his shoulder. “You know me, Vega, love saving the day. Glad you’re in one piece.”
“You too, amigo, you too.”
He stepped back to let Cortez focus on flying. Seeing that his best friend was alive was just - pure relief.
“Everyone okay?” he called. “Shuttle’s got medigel somewhere if anyone needs it.”
Castillo was strapped into a seat, head held back and eyes closed. "I'm fine," he said. "Just tired. Didn't expect the exercise."
Vogt checked himself over. "Couple of small cuts from where the fuckin' thing grabbed me. But nothing major." He pointed at Shepard. "She got shot though. Before any of this happened."
“What?” Williams asked sharply, looking over at Shepard, eyes narrowing.
“Hurts but I’ll live,” Shepard said, not quite looking at the other woman. They’d put themselves in opposite ends of the shuttle.
Awkward.
“You got shot?”
Shepard rubbed the back of her neck. It was almost kinda funny, seeing someone who always seemed so put together and sharp-edged be so off-balance. “I was wearing a vest. It’s fine.”
Vogt wisely closed his mouth and took great interest in his ripped uniform jacket. Castillo opened one eye to see the two women. "She was checked by medics already. But if the ship has the facilities, they suggested she get checked out for internal damage. Otherwise, she survived a stabbing six weeks ago. I'm sure she'll be fine."
Williams opened her mouth and then closed it, scowling. Vega decided that Lieutenant Williams, no matter how hot she was, scared the crap out of him.
“ETA on take off, LT?” Anderson asked.
“Joker said twenty minutes five minutes ago, sir. Cortez really booked it here.”
“Good.”
“I don’t know how long the port defences will hold. They were pretty heavily engaged when we took off.”
Anderson just nodded.
The hum of the shuttle’s thrusters changed pitch, throwing Vega forward in his seat as the shuttle descended.
“Are there any Marines on the Normandy?” Shepard asked.
“Just a handful,” Williams responded, “the ship’s not even supposed to be out of drydock for another couple of weeks, so we’re running a skeleton crew.”
"Shit."
Cortez pulled the shuttle into a tight turn and they entered the Normandy through the flight deck. As soon as the thrusters died and the door opened, Shepard's lawyer jumped out, looking much more comfortable now that he was somewhere safe. Or as close to safe as it got.
Anderson brought up his omnitool and tapped something.
The ship’s VI spoke, “Change of command accepted. Commander Emilia Shepard has command.”
“Armoury’s just over there,” Williams said, pointing to the back of the crowded shuttle bay. There were a couple of Marines in armour at the bottom of the Normandy’s ramp, and the lieutenant jogged over to join them. The Normandy was in some kind of hangar, the deck humming under Vega’s feet.
Vega followed Shepard towards the bench and the handful of assault rifles lying there. As he picked one up, Shepard tilted her head back, looking up at the ceiling and smiled.
“Hey EDI, miss me?”
“Of course, Shepard. Jeff says hi.” The voice of the ship’s VI emanated from the ceiling speakers.
“I’ll be up once we’re in the air. ETA?”
“Five minutes to finish reactor start up procedures.”
Vega blinked. That was one talkative and expressive VI.
Vogt was clearly thinking the same thing. "Your VI's not standard Alliance," he remarked as he collected a rifle. "The Tobruk's was much more boring."
Shepard smirked, as if there was some joke the rest of them weren’t in on. “Yep.”
She took off her omnitool, tossing it aside almost carelessly and pulled on one of the standard combat spec ones stored in the armoury. Then she found the amp Anderson had had stored here for her. She whistled as she picked the box up, rubbing a thumb across the Serrice Council branding on the side before slotting the amp into the back of her neck.
Vega had always found it kinda crazy that such a tiny thing could help a biotic have telekinetic powers.
She looked over at Anderson, “What’s the plan once we’re up?”
“Hackett wants you to head to the archives on Mars,” Anderson replied, “Uploading the OPORD to your omni now. I won’t be coming with you.”
“What?” Shepard and Vega chorused in unison.
"Mars?" Castillo, sitting on the floor next to the armoury, asked. "Aren't we going somewhere safe? Like Arcturus?"
Vogt also cut in, "Sir, you can't stay on Earth - it's too dangerous! You're a flag officer."
Anderson raised a hand, cutting them all off. “I’m needed here. The Alliance troops on Earth need a leader. We can’t fight them conventionally, but we can resist.”
“Then I’m staying with you,” Shepard crossed her arms.
“Me too,” Vega added.
He shook his head. “Shepard, we need you out there, talking to the Council-”
Shepard scoffed angrily. “Like they ever listened to me-”
“Then make them listen!” Anderson’s voice rose, echoing through the shuttle bay. Then his expression softened. “We need you out there, Emilia.”
Shepard sighed. “I don’t like it...but alright. At least take Vega with you.”
“No, I need him to watch your back.”
What? He was supposed to leave Earth? Hell no. “Sir-”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” Shepard objected.
“Last time I checked the Alliance military wasn’t a democracy,” Anderson said sharply, “You have your orders, both of you.”
Vega felt himself slump in defeat.
"Well… Where will you go, sir?" Vogt looked over to Shepard. "We need to make sure he makes it somewhere safe."
“The defences of the drydock facility haven’t fallen yet,” Anderson replied, “Once you’re airborne I’m going to try and get as many of the troops here out alive.”
“Reactor start-up complete,” the ship VI - EDI? - announced.
“Get going,” Anderson ordered and then turned and jogged down the ramp, stopping to say something to Williams. And then he was gone.
Vega stared dejectedly after him.
“I’m going to the bridge,” Shepard said roughly, slinging her rifle over her shoulder. “Castillo...maybe head up to Deck Three. Most of the amenities are there.”
Castillo struggled to push himself off the floor, clearly exhausted from the running and fear. Vogt helped him up. "Okay…"
Not like a civilian lawyer would be any good to them right now.
"I'll take him there, Commander," Vogt offered, letting Castillo lean into him. "And I'm bridge qualified, if it helps."
Shepard nodded. “Meet me on the bridge - Deck Two - once you’ve got him settled. Vega…” She shrugged. “Just do what Williams tells you.”
“Aye aye, ma’am,” he said dryly.
She turned and went for the elevator as the Normandy began to rumble. The ramp started coming up with the whine of machinery.
And James Vega stood in the middle of the flight deck, holding his rifle and feeling useless as his homeworld burned.
Chapter Text
“Shepard, we are in geostationary orbit above Mars.” EDI’s hologram blinked a soft blue.
Shepard looked through the viewport, hating the way her heartbeat picked up, and stared down at the red planet. “Has the research outpost responded to our hails?”
“Nope,” Joker popped the word, tilting his head back to look at her. Seeing him in that chair made her feel like at least something was right in the world.
“I’ll take the shuttle down.”
“There is a large storm approaching the outpost,” EDI warned, “It shouldn’t pose any physical threat but it may interfere with communications.”
“We’ll try to keep it snappy then,” she nodded. “In the meantime…” She turned and called out, “Vogt!”
Vogt stepped forward, crossing the bridge to stand behind her. "Aye Commander?"
“While we’re on the ground, I want you to have the bridge.” Well, want was a strong word. She felt enough possessive love for the Normandy that handing it over to the guy who’d spent six months dragging her through the mud made her stomach twist. But they might get into contact, in which case she needed Joker free to handle the flying, EDI to do her thing, and an officer of the deck to coordinate everything else.
“What?” Joker grimaced.
“Do you have any SWOs stuffed in the cupboard?” she asked archly.
“Well...no.”
Vogt's face flashed joy for a brief moment, but he quickly contained it. "Aye, aye, Commander. I won't let you down."
She nodded. “Keep the ship safe. I’m going below. Play nice, Joker.”
Joker sent her an innocent look. Who, me?
She took the elevator down, experimentally twisting her torso and grimaced at the twinge. She’d scanned herself in the medbay during the short flight over and had been glad to see that her ribs weren’t broken. Still sore though. She was going to pay for it tomorrow.
At least she was out of her battered dress uniform, even if she’d had to borrow fatigues from one of the sailors who’d been working on the retrofits. She’d stripped the rank off the collar. She’d need to get new uniforms and insignia before someone mistook her for a Serviceman Third Class.
Vega, Ashley and the two Marines whose names she hadn’t gotten yet were waiting for her in the shuttle bay, along with the shuttle pilot.
She read his nametape, “Lieutenant Cortez?”
“Ma’am,” he said smartly, professionally. He was a Latino man of average height and build, hair and uniform to regulation, and clear blue eyes.
“There’s a storm incoming, so once you’ve dropped us off, I want you to stand off back to the Normandy.”
“No problem, ma’am,” he replied, “I’ll keep the engines hot.”
“Good.”
She turned to the armoury bench. Someone had set out a new set of Onyx combat armour - red stripe down the arm, N7 on the collar, Alliance symbol opposite, sized for someone of her build. Anderson’s doing, no doubt. She wondered briefly what had happened to the customised set she’d worn to destroy the Collectors and then shrugged the thought off.
She suited up in silence. The movements were both intimately familiar and strangely alien. She hadn’t gone so long without wearing armour since she was eighteen. Six months.
Six wasted months.
Vega came over and checked her armour for her as the suit computer booted. She looked past his dull-blue armoured shoulder and saw Ashley watching them, arms crossed. She looked away and started gathering her weapons - rifle, shotgun, pistol.
“Those two?” she asked Vega quietly, flicking her eyes at the two young Marines.
“Privates Westmoreland and Campbell,” he replied, pitching his voice down, “they were Moreau’s guards.”
“MPs?”
“Grunts.”
That was something. She hoped they weren’t cherries, but with the way her day had been going...
She nodded and stepped away from the armoury bench, raising her voice, “Alright. The Archives on Mars aren’t responding to hails, so we’re not sure what we’re walking into. I want everyone on their toes. Our primary objective is to secure the Project Crucible data and the lead scientists, Doctor Thabo Nkosi and his deputy directors. I’ve sent their images to your omnitools.”
Ashley nodded. “Friendly forces?”
“There’s a security force of a platoon and automated defences, but we have no intel on their status.”
And it wasn’t like they could ask for reinforcements either. The Alliance comm networks were, to put it lightly, a mess and all forces in the Sol System were engaged. She didn’t like trying to secure such a large facility with five people - but they didn’t have a choice but to try.
No pressure.
Vega asked a couple of questions of his own and then she gestured for them to mount up. The ride was quiet, absent of any banter. Westmoreland and Campbell were clearly nervous. Shepard could only hope they’d stand up in combat. Not everyone did.
She distracted herself from the oppressive silence by thinking through what she knew of Project Crucible. A dark energy superweapon, capable of immense destruction, built on top of theories and equations drawn from a translated Prothean cache courtesy of the Cipher stuffed in her brain, not that she’d understood what she’d been translating three years ago. The project was still in the theoretical stage, with some testing done - discreetly.
It was their hail mary, but Shepard retained her doubts that it would be enough even if they could build it before the fight was kicked out of the Alliance.
When they were on the ground, red rock dust under her boots, Shepard tried to remember the last time she’d been on Mars. It had to have been years.
The horizon was a mass of roiling dust clouds, the sky the same dull rust-red. The only splash of colour was the blue and white Kodiak as she waved it off.
Time to get back to work.
Joker tapped his fingers against his armrest, staring out at the planet above him. He’d been to Mars a couple of times. The first frigate he’d served on had had her home port at the Mars Orbital Spaceport and the crew had often torn it up in Lowell City on shore leave. Not him, though. He’d spent most of his free time honing his flying in the simulators. Besides, a shove could break something so the bar fights the Marines were so fond of were right out of the question.
He didn’t want to think about Lowell City. How easy it’d be to pop its bubble. How no one would have anywhere to run.
He sighed, leaning back in his chair. “EDI, how’s the heat?”
“Fifteen percent capacity,” she responded. He’d been pretty worried about her during their detention, but she’d taken to his suggestion of pretending to be a simple VI with something close to glee. Hell, she’d managed to force the Alliance into bringing him onboard to ‘unlock’ systems.
"So this is the fabled Normandy," Vogt remarked. "I hope she lives up to her reputation."
Joker shot him a sideways look and then glanced over at EDI’s projection, faux-whispering, “Shh, don’t listen to him.”
“I do not require external validation,” she replied.
“Guess you wouldn't, considering you have a giant gun.” He’d feel pretty confident if he was packing a thanix cannon.
“Precisely.”
Vogt cocked a brow. "The VI is chatty. Did you make modifications to the personality yourself, Flight Lieutenant?"
“Nope.” Unless releasing her from her shackles counted. He decided to change the subject - he wanted Shepard around when it came out about EDI’s true nature. “So what’s a lawyer doing with SWCOT quals, anyway? Got bored one day?”
"Something like that. What good is being an Officer in the Navy if you can't lead a division or take an OOD watch?" Vogt shrugged. "I wanted shipborne postings as a JAG, and I did every qual I could to be more competitive. What's the status of that storm?"
“EDI?”
“I estimate forty minutes before it reaches the Archives outpost,” the AI replied, “at which time we will likely experience communication difficulties with the ground team.”
"Aye. Let me know when it's five mikes out." Vogt looked around the bridge. There were only a handful of crew manning some of the consoles. "What does the manifest say for souls on board right now?"
“Twenty-six souls,” EDI responded, “Half of which are assigned to be part of the operational crew. Another three have useful skill sets for operational duties.”
"Define 'useful skill sets'."
“Lieutenant Samantha Traynor has been manning the communications station and integrating data since we left Earth.”
Joker considered warning EDI off. Vogt was suspicious and EDI was clearly starting to show she was more than VI. But hey, it was Shepard’s ship and EDI could always lock him in the head if need be.
“Petty Officers Johansen and Ren would be suitable as damage control personnel and for structural repair and maintenance.”
"Very good," Vogt said thoughtfully, but he didn't prod EDI any further. "How long have you been flying, Flight Lieutenant?"
“Ten years, give or take.” Joker adjusted the trim of one of the thrusters, rolling the Normandy slightly to port. If they needed to get down quickly to pick up Shepard, he wanted her belly to the planet, not the roof.
"And the climate control?" Vogt joked, though it came off a little awkwardly. "Still 25 degrees?"
“Yessir,” Joker said dryly. He wasn’t forgetting the trial anytime soon.
Vogt scratched at his neck. "Nothing on instruments," he addressed the bridge.
“Won’t see us anyway,” he said confidently, “It’s almost like EDI and I know how to do our jobs.”
Vogt pulled a face. "Maybe we'll keep the chatter to a minimum, Moreau."
“Killjoy,” he muttered. This is why he missed Pressly. Pressly had been a grumpy old fucker, but he’d known Joker running his mouth was part of the process.
Vogt tapped his hands against his console and the minutes ticked by tensely. To the bridge crew's credit, there was no more speaking after Vogt's request.
“Ground team is hailing us,” Traynor called over to Joker and Vogt, putting the transmission through to them.
“Overlord, Ranger Six,” Shepard’s voice - and she sounded pissed. The Overlord callsign had been her little joke with EDI. “Come in, over.”
"Ranger, Overlord Actual." Vogt responded, leaning into his console. "We have you. Send traffic, over.
“Overlord, Ranger. Troops in contact. Cerberus has taken the Archives. We may need a hot extract, over.”
"What the fuck?" After a brief pause, Vogt flicked the comm. "Roger, Ranger, we're standing to. Be advised, the storm is closing and will interfere with comms within minutes, over."
“Copy that. Ranger out.”
“It may be possible to use the shuttle to relay communications between the ship and the ground team,” EDI suggested. Made sense - the Kodiak had more powerful radios than the suit based ones the ground team used.
"Is there a risk the storm will damage the shuttle?"
“The risk is negligible. The Kodiak is rated for greater stressors and Lieutenant Cortez is a competent pilot.”
She thought the fighter jock was competent? She better not let Cortez fly the Normandy.
Vogt considered for a moment. "Alright. We'll dispatch the shuttle." Again, Vogt pressed buttons on his console and his voice echoed through the entire ship when he set the comm to 1MC - the internal communication channel. "Hands to boarding stations, hands to boarding stations, set damage control condition zebra. Flight quarters, flight quarters, set condition 1-alpha for flight operations. All personnel not involved in flight operations are to leave the deck immediately."
Then, he flicked one more switch. "Bridge to Flight."
“Flight here,” Cortez responded over the 5MC channel.
"Flight, Bridge." Vogt sucked air through his teeth. "Ranger is in contact and may need a hot extract - away the shuttle to the facility, but maintain radio contact with us. We're going to use you as a comm buoy to get around this storm."
“Aye aye. Engines are still hot so I can be airborne in five mikes.”
Liara ached all over. She’d banged a knee and an elbow clambering through the vents. But she was alive and Shepard was here, so they had a vital opening to salvage the Project Crucible data. Even if her colleagues of a few months were dead.
What a waste.
“The project data is stored on an air gapped, secure network in a separate lab from the living quarters and older Prothean research labs,” she explained, quickening to keep up with Shepard despite being taller than the human. Ashley had taken point, rifle in hand, and the three Marines Liara hadn’t met before took up the rear.
“So we have to physically go and retrieve it,” Shepard surmised.
“Yes.”
“Wonderful.”
“Any idea where Doctor Nkosi might be?” Ashley asked.
Liara glanced over, at Ashley’s armoured back. With three years of distance, Liara knew she had handled her conversation with Ashley after Alchera poorly. They had both been grieving, and it hadn’t brought the best out in either of them. The wound left behind was still there, but there was no time now to address it.
“He usually works in the secure lab. We can hope that survivors of the security team can hold the tram line but…”
Ashley nodded.
Uneasy silence settled across the group as they made their way through the metallic corridors of the research outpost. Shepard’s dark eyes were grim beneath her visor. It was far from the camaraderie of the SR1, but the three of them fell into old habits, moving quickly and quietly, pulling Sergeant Vega and the two privates in their wake.
Liara had begun to think that the Cerberus troops had pulled back to the tramline, when Ashley slapped open the green lock of a door and they came across a handful of Cerberus troopers in prepared positions. The five operatives immediately raked the doorway with gunfire, Ashley’s shields lighting up in a flash of blue.
Liara raised a hand, flaring, but Shepard was quicker. She grabbed Ash by the webbing and pulled her into cover behind the door frame.
“Liara! Singularity!” Shepard called, over the shriek of Harrier assault rifles.
Liara stepped forward and out of cover just long enough to pull at the gravity well, opening a miniature rupture. It pulled three of the men off their feets, with shouts that sounded distorted through their helmet.
Another screamed when Ashley leant around the corner and shot him in the stomach. He fell to the ground, clutching at the wound. One of the other troopers was foolish enough to try and get to him - he too fell, Shepard’s burst of assault rifle fire breaking his shields and Ashley’s next shot blowing off the top of his head.
“Charging!” Shepard announced and was gone in a flash of energy.
The room shook with the deep, brassy boom of two fields detonating. Liara grit her teeth against the disturbance of the gravity well. When she stepped into the room, Shepard was standing over the dead, her gauntlet splashed with red human blood.
“Damn,” one of the privates said, clutching her rifle.
“Let’s keep moving,” Shepard said brusquely.
“They’ve sealed the door,” Ash called a few minutes later, “without charges we’re not getting through.”
Cerberus had welded the door shut in a bid to keep them out. Unfortunately for them, Liara knew the facility well after living in it for months.
“We can detour. There’s an airlock nearby, and we can use the maintenance ladders to access the emergency airlock for the dining hall. Then it’s just a couple of doors to the tramway,” Liara said. “I just need to unlock the airlock from the security station.”
It was only about a hundred metres that they had to cross in the vacuum, clambering across the outside of the station and up and down the maintenance ladders. The storm, however, was starting to pick up, filling the air with the haze of brown-red dust. When Shepard did a comms check with the shuttle, the response was starting to get garbled.
“Shit, hope we don’t have to leave in a hurry,” Vega said.
“Joker and EDI won’t leave us down here,” Shepard’s voice was matter-of-fact, calm in her trust in her ship and pilot.
“Hey,” Ash called back, “the airlock is open.”
“What?” Liara sped up - but Ashley was correct. The airlock was pitch black and forbidding.
“Night vision filters on,” Shepard ordered.
They stepped into a nightmare, green through the night vision filter. Bodies were strewn across the dining hall, faces blue from asphyxiation. Many were clustered around the Emergency Life Supports Apparatus storage. Everyone who lived in places like this knew the emergency procedures. In case of rapid decompression you might only have thirty seconds to get into an ELSA. But they hadn’t used them.
“What happened with the ELSAs?” Vega demanded, striding over - and then he swore. The oxygen bottles meant to be used inside the plastic bubble of the apparatus were all missing.
Liara felt numb. It had to have been an inside job.
“I feel sick,” one of the privates - Westmoreland - said.
“Nasty way to go,” the other, Campbell, stared down at one of the bodies.
“These were some of the Alliance’s finest minds,” Liara said, aghast. What was Cerberus thinking to kill them? Even someone of the Illusive Man’s ruthlessness and brutality ahd to understand what a waste this was.
Then Shepard’s fist shot into the air, silencing them all. Liara remembered that signal - the one that meant freeze - from the SR1.
Past the glass window separating the hall from the outside corridor, Liara heard the echo of footsteps and helmet-distorted voices. A Cerberus patrol, and this one was far less alert than the previous ones they’d run into. They were searching for civilian survivors. They weren’t expecting an armed and very angry Alliance squad.
The six of them spread in a loose line facing the window, weapons raised. Liara’s finger balanced on the trigger.
Three.
Two.
One.
Six guns opened up in unison, the dark room flashing with light. The glass shattered. The ensuing fight was more of a massacre, the Cerberus agents scythed down in the ambush.
“Motherfuckers,” Shepard said, with feeling.
Ashley vaulted over the half wall, boots crunching glass underfoot. One of the wounded Cerberus troopers moved, reaching for a weapon. The Alliance lieutenant shot him so quickly it had to be reflex, before lowering her rifle. “There’s a security terminal over here. Looks like it has camera footage.”
Liara hurried over, stepping over the dead Cerberus troopers.
The security station had two more dead Marines. Poor Sergeant Gavins hadn’t even been able to defend himself - he’d been shot in the back of the head while sitting in his chair.
“Definitely an inside job,” Ashley said darkly from the doorway, “He trusted whoever killed him.”
“Seems likely,” Shepard agreed.
Liara had to lean across the body to access the terminal. “There.”
The footage played. The man who walked in was familiar and unthreatening in his Alliance uniform. She’d been introduced to him as Sergeant Zhao, one of the Marines charged with protecting the project. Unthreatening, right up to the moment when he pulled out a silenced pistol and shot Gavins in the head. Lance Corporal Wei had managed to get her hand on her carbine, but with two shots Zhao had killed her too.
“Goddess,” she gripped the edge of the desk.
“Pendejo,” Shepard shook her head in disgust, “don’t blame yourself, Liara. I know that bastard.”
Liara blinked, “You do?”
“His real name is Kai Leng. We were classmates at N School, but he got blacklisted from the teams a year after we graduated, and then he killed someone in a bar fight and got court martialed.”
A dark wave of despair crashed over Liara, heavy and choking. “I should have paid more attention.”
Now Cerberus might well get the project data and the Alliance’s best and brightest were dead on the floor of a cafeteria.
She was the Shadow Broker for goddess’ sake.
“You were focused on helping find a way to destroy the Reapers. That’s what we should all be focusing on.”
“But what if we’re wrong?” she said, that despair digging icy claws into her chest, “What if these are our last days and we’re spending them screwing around trying to fix a problem we can’t fix?”
“Liara…”
“I know, I know. I don’t know how you do it - how you stay so focused in the worst situations.”
“I think of my family,” Shepard said quietly, “my friends. What I love and what I’ll lose if the Reapers win.” Her gaze slid past Liara to rest on Ashley, standing in the doorway, and then jerked away when the other human looked up.
Oh Shepard.
“That’s a terrible burden.”
Shepard didn’t deny it, simply put her hand on Liara’s shoulder. “We have to keep fighting. We have to keep hoping. The Reapers aren’t infallible.”
“I believe you,” Liara said. Or perhaps she wanted to. Maybe that would be enough.
“Commander, this guy looks like a squad leader - and I think he has a radio in his helmet,” Ash called, kneeling in front of one of the dead Cerberus troopers. “I’m thinking I’ll patch us into their comms so at least we can get an idea of what they’re doing.”
“Good idea, LT,” Shepard said, coming to join her.
It was strange, the formality of rank between them after - everything. Shepard felt like the most familiar stranger. They’d both changed, hadn’t they? Shepard even fought differently. Where did that leave them now?
Why the fuck was she thinking about this now, on one of the most important missions she’d ever been on?
She found the latches to the helmet and pulled it off. She reeled back in horror, dropping the helmet to the ground with a thump.
“Oh god. He looks like a husk.”
His open, glassy eyes were vibrant, unnatural blue, cybernetics splitting the bruised looking skin of his face.
“They’ve certainly done something to him,” Shepard knelt and calmly pulled the radio out of his helmet.
The detachment in her voice was too much. “They could’ve done this to you.”
Desecrated Shepard’s body - turned her into something Ashley couldn’t recognise -
Shepard shot up to her feet, whirling on Ash. When she spoke, her voice was low and angry, “I am nothing like that thing.”
“You can’t tell me they just started this sort of thing. It’s Cerberus we’re talking about-”
“How can you even think that?”
“It’s not like you’ve told me anything! How am I supposed to know what they did or didn’t do?”
“Ashley,” Shepard’s voice was bitter and hard, “You don’t have to believe me. You don’t have to forgive me. But we have a job to do. Once it’s done, we can go our separate ways.”
“That’s not what I-” wanted? Meant?
“Let’s just get across to this fucking lab,” Shepard snapped and strode off.
Ashley watched her go, chest all twisted up. There’d been a time where they’d known how to talk to each other.
And then she followed.
It took another twenty minutes to fight their way across the tramway but then finally, they were at the secure part of the facility.
The lab was a large, open office space with Prothean artifacts in containment fields and desks scattered around the room. In the centre Kai Leng held a gun to the head of a dark-skinned, middle-aged man with greying hair. Dr Nkosi.
“Don’t come any closer,” Leng called. He had cold eyes.
“Leng,” Shepard said coolly, voice dripping with derision. Vega, Campbell and Westmoreland spread out to secure the rest of the room with a few hand gestures from the sergeant. Ashley stayed where she was, at Shepard’s left shoulder and Liara at her right.
“Shepard,” he smiled, a knife of an expression, “someone would like to speak with you.”
A holo drone popped up from behind him and began projecting.
The Illusive Man breathed out and holographic smoke trailed from his lips. “Commander Shepard.”
“What do you want?” Shepard asked, eyes never leaving Leng and his hostage.
“What I’ve always wanted: the survival of our species. The Alliance is weak, ineffective, but it was correct that this project holds the key to solving the Reaper threat.”
“You killed some of the brightest minds humanity has to offer and turned your people into monsters. Spare me your ‘vision’.”
Ashley wanted nothing more than to put a bullet in Leng’s traitorous skull, but he was smart and kept himself behind Nkosi so any shot she took risked hitting the scientist.
“Monsters? Hardly. They’re being improved. That is the difference between us Shepard. Your vision is limited to destruction.”
“Earth is occupied,” Shepard snapped, “millions are dying as we speak - and you want to fight the Alliance? Stop this - work with us, with the Alliance. Help me save our people.”
“You would do better than many,” the Illusive Man conceded, “but our goals are not compatible. There are other solutions to the Reaper threat than mere extermination.”
“They’ll kill us all if we don’t stop fighting each other!” Shepard’s voice rose. “They want exactly this.”
“I don’t need your understanding - or your approval. You were a tool for a singular purpose, a purpose that has been achieved. I will raise humanity to the apex of evolution, and you will not stop me.”
“You think,” she said, the muzzle of her rifle not wavering, “I’m just gonna let Leng walk out of here?”
“Yes,” he breathed out another breath of smoke, “because if you don’t, Nkosi will die and you will have doomed us all. Don’t interfere with my plans again, Shepard. I won’t warn you again.”
“Go to hell.”
The Illusive Man smiled. “Goodbye, Shepard.”
The hologram blinked out.
“It’s been a pleasure, Shepard,” Leng said with a smarmy smile and began to back towards the door, still holding onto Nkosi.
Then - a flash of movement and a thump. Vega, who’d crept up on the bastard while he’d been preoccupied with Shepard, tossed himself at the former N7, grabbed his gun and pulling it up and away from the scientist.
Nkosi didn’t hesitate - he ran straight towards Shepard and Ashley. Shepard grabbed him and put her body in between him and Leng. He was visibly trembling, his hand gripping Shepard’s armoured arm.
Ash tried to get a shot but couldn’t - not without hitting Vega. The two men grabbled, Leng trying to grab for Vega’s pistol - but the bigger Marine managed to grab his hand. Then Leng got his legs up and kicked. Vega flew off him, crashing into a desk hard enough that it crumpled under his weight, dumping him onto the ground.
Ashley fired. The round deflected off Leng’s shields and buried itself in the wall.
And then Leng turned and ran. Ash fired again to hurry him on his way.
“He has the data!” Nkosi yelled, his voice cracking.
“What?” Ash demanded.
“He took the project data - you must get it back-”
“Ashley!” Shepard yelled.
She understood. She took off running after Leng through the warren of corridors, her heavy marksman rifle thumping against her chestplate with each stride. Leng was fast - and he wasn’t in full combat gear. She had pretty damn good PT scores but she found herself straining to keep up.
C’mere asshole.
She heard running steps behind her and tossed a look over her shoulder. Shepard and Liara, hurrying to catch up.
He burst out of the airlock and uptop, and for a moment Ashley thought she had him. The airlock opened up into the swirling dust of the storm - and a small alcove with the only way out a ladder.
But then he managed to jump - far higher than any human had any business jumping - and grabbed some of the top rungs, quickly pulling himself over the top. Of course he was a cyborg or modified with Reaper tech. Of course he was. She should’ve suspected that. This was Cerberus after all.
She had to climb the ladder normally.
She could hear Shepard just behind her, shouting into her comm, as she lengthened her strides, breathing hard.
No, no, no.
Ahead of them, a white and grey painted shuttle was waiting, door open. Leng jumped and landed.
“Fuck!” she shouted and fired in frustration, but even the Saber’s rounds dashed off the Kodiak’s shields with barely a flicker of the shields.
“Overlord!” Shepard shouted into the comm, “Hawk! The Cerberus shuttle has the data! Shoot it the fuck down, over!”
The Cerberus shuttle spun, spraying the landing zone with automatic fire. Ashley swore, stumbling back, as her shields lit up and died. And then Shepard was there, glowing so bright it hurt to look at her, forcing a barrier up and around them both.
She remembered this part. Shepard had to focus on the barrier and Ash - she had to make they both got back into cover. She grabbed Shepard by the shoulders, impersonal through two layers of armour, and guided her back with her, into cover behind some crates that would never be unpacked. Shepard glanced back at her, eyes glowing blue with her corona, before refocusing on the shuttle.
Ash watched the shuttle start to rise. She’d never wanted a goddamn rocket launcher more.
That was when a flash of blue and white fell from the sky. The Normandy’s shuttle.
“Oh thank the Goddess,” Liara said behind her.
But Ash quickly saw why it wasn’t firing on the Cerberus shuttle. If Cortez missed, he’d hit the landing pad - and them.
The Cerberus shuttle hurtled up, unaccosted - but then the Alliance shuttle was diving to meet it.
“He’s not going to…” she began.
But he was.
The two shuttles came together with a horrific shrieking of metal tearing and buckling.
The Alliance shuttle pulled off, one thruster smoking and sputtering, the bow dented and scarred from the impact. The Cerberus shuttle had come off second-best, one side punched in and two of four thrusters completely sheared off in the impact.
The Cerberus shuttle dropped like a stone and crashed below the landing pad, gouging a long furrow into the metallic roof of the facility. The Alliance Kodiak circled around, wobbling in the air, and came into the landing pad.
The shuttle landed hard, sliding a few metres before coming to a stop. It didn’t look like it was going to be getting back up in the air.
“I’ll check on Lieutenant Cortez, you two get down there,” Shepard ordered, pointing down at the wreckage.
She didn’t need to tell them twice. Ashley jogged over to the edge of the landing pad. The Cerberus shuttle was smouldering below. Behind her she heard running steps and then Liara launched herself off the edge of the landing pad. For a moment she fell, and then she caught herself with her biotics, gracefully floating down to the ground below.
Ash had to content herself with climbing down.
The side closest to them was butted up against some machinery, so they had to carefully pick their way around the crashed shuttle.
“I hope the data is okay,” Liara fretted.
“Here’s hoping.”
The shuttle was a mess of buckled metal, but Ash thought they might be able to get the door open using the emergency releases. She magnetised her rifle to the front of her armour to get her hands free and pried the cover off the release, tossing it aside.
She heard boots crunching in rock dust and looked up to see Shepard’s black-armoured form coming around the rear of the shuttle.
“Cortez is okay,” she called, “shuttle is busted though. He’s gonna try and get through to the Normandy on the shuttle radio. How are we doing?”
“Just trying to get this door open,” she responded, pulling the release lever.
Everything happened very quickly then.
The shuttle door blew upon. Leng stood there - bloodied, but not dead - and there was a long, sharp knife in his hand. Ash reacted first. She shoved Liara, in her much lighter civilian clothing, out of the way, sending the asari sprawling.
Then Leng was on her, quicker than she could draw her pistol - because the Saber was the best marksman rifle she’d ever used but it was far too unwieldy for this. She got a hand up, deflecting his first strike, the knife skating across the ceramic plating on her armour. Her first blow knocked the knife out of his hand. It landed handle-first with a puff of red-brown dust.
He grabbed her by the helmet, both hands clamped on either side.
What the fuck?
He lifted her bodily off the ground by her head.
What the FUCK?
She tried to bring a knife hand down on one of the elbows hefting her into the air, but he didn’t budge. How was he so strong? What had Cerberus done to him to make him so strong?
“End of the line, Marine,” he said with a nasty, gleeful smile. His face was painted with blood but his eyes burned with a sick light.
“Put her down, Leng!” Shepard shouted.
He laughed. “You never can keep them alive, can you, Shepard?”
And then he slammed Ashley’s head into the shuttle.
Pain exploded across the back of her head, her neck, her shoulders and all she could see was stars. Again. Something snapped in her neck in her head. She could taste blood, her blood painting the inside of her mouth.
She couldn’t move - she couldn’t move - why couldn’t she fucking move -
She realised this was how she was going to die.
The last thing Ashley Williams heard was Emilia Shepard screaming her name.
Kai Leng dropped Ashley’s unmoving body (no, not a body, she can’t be-) to the Mars dirt and leant down to pick up his knife.
Liara might have said something but all Shepard could hear was the roar of blood in her ears.
All she could taste was her own rage, metallic on her tongue.
In the next moment she slammed into Leng with bone-crunching biotic force. He managed to get his own barrier up enough to deflect most of the force, but he still stumbled back into the shuttle he’d just broken Ashley’s body against.
For a moment they grappled, Leng holding onto the knife for dear life, and somewhere distant she noted that he was the first human who’d been able to physically match her since she’d been brought back.
Her barrier erupted out and tossed him off his feet. He hit the ground with a pained noise (good), knife skittering across the ground. She didn’t let him get up. She hit him with all the strength Cerberus had spliced into her muscles, biotic field clenched in her fist. Bone crunched.
He choked and when his eyes met hers through her visor, she saw fear. She wanted him afraid but more importantly she wanted Kai Leng dead.
She hit him again. His skull shattered under her biotic-wreathed fist.
“Shepard!” Liara shouted.
She staggered upright and away from the body. Liara was kneeling beside Ashley, omnitool light washing over the Marine’s blue-grey armour.
“She’s alive,” Liara said urgently, “but-”
Shepard had her omnitool med scanner up in a moment. Alive, but badly wounded. The list of injuries felt like a vise squeezing her chest. Skull fracture, potential traumatic brain injury, fracture of C6 vertebrae, potential spinal cord injury.
She dropped to her knees beside her. “Tell Cortez we need the Normandy down here now.”
Liara touched her shoulder as she passed but Shepard barely noticed.
The movements were rote. Monitor breathing. Using the armour systems to lock and hold Ash’s head and neck still.
“Please don’t do this to me,” she whispered. But Ashley didn’t move except for the just there rise and fall of her chest.
“Sir!” Traynor called to Commander Vogt, “I’m getting communications from the ground again, but it’s really garbled.”
The command deck had warmed up from Joker’s customary 25 degrees celsius thanks to the building heat stored in the heatsinks, creeping closer to 28. Joker kept his eye on it and hoped Shepard hurried the fuck up.
EDI had already picked up Reaper signatures above several of Mars’ settlements.
"Damn storm… Put it through to my console, Lieutenant."
“There you go, sir. Doing my best to clear it up.”
“...copy? Lieu....shuttle…” Cortez’s voice on the radio, crackling and garbled by the interference, but even through it, Joker could hear the tension in the usually calm fighter jock’s voice.
"Fuck sake!" Vogt exclaimed, urgency present in his voice. "Hawk 1, Overlord, we have you one by five. Say again your last, over!"
“..lord, one wounded...shuttle damaged...need pick-up, over.” That was a little clearer.
Someone was hurt. Joker clenched his jaw. He had always hated it, the feeling of helplessness when Shepard was on the ground and he couldn’t do anything to help, and he especially hated the dread when it was reported someone was hit. The who and the how bad racing through his head.
“The upper part of the facility should be clear enough for us to land the ship,” he told Vogt. He hoped.
"Affirm. Full ahead, you have the conn. Go get our shuttle." Vogt looked over to Traynor. "Do we have a medical team onboard?"
Joker didn’t need to be told twice. He pushed the Normandy’s nose down and pushing the thrusters to full ahead. She hurtled through atmo towards the research outpost.
“Uh,” Traynor swallowed, “no medics, sir. I think Jansen has first aid training.”
"Better than nothing." Vogt's voice rang through 1MC, "Medical, stand-to flight deck. Casualties inbound, casualties inbound. That's you, Jansen."
“Shepard’s got some medical training, yeah? She’s a N7.” Joker eased off on the thrusters as the ship hit the storm. Immediately the viewport filled with red, swirling dust and the hull shook. “Y’know...if she’s not the one hurt.”
He looked at his altimeter. 900 metres. He eased off further, pulling the nose up a little. Shit that dust was bad. Damnit. If he couldn’t see the landing zone, he’d have to go around.
"Active pings," Vogt commanded. "Radar and LADAR. We can't do this with LOS. EDI, anything we can use to breach the dust?"
“I will try active sensors. Stand by.”
Active pinging would start to reveal them to anything close enough, but the alternative was probably a go around so - lesser of two evils.
On Joker’s panels a clearer picture started to emerge. He could at least aim for where his chosen LZ was and avoid the outpost’s tower that was in the way. “EDI, landing sleds down.”
“Landing sleds are down, Jeff.”
Through the haze he could pick up the vague shape of the landing pads on top of the facility. The sensors seemed to indicate it was just big enough for the frigate to land.
“This might be a bit rough. Suggest you hold onto something,” he shot Vogt a tight grin.
Heeding his advice, Vogt gripped his console tightly and flicked back onto 1MC. "Brace for landing."
The whole craft shook and Vogt struggled against the rocking to maintain his footing.
Joker forced the ship down, hard, flaring the reverse thrusters. The Normandy bucked underneath their feet and then stilled. They’d cleared the nearest comms tower by thirty metres.
“Any damage, EDI?”
“Negative. Impact was within parameters for landing sleds.”
"Good flying, Moreau," Vogt said after standing back to his full height. "Comms, try to raise Ranger, and we'll open the hangar bay door. Hopefully they can see us 'cause we need to get the fuck out of dodge." Grimly, he added, "Hopefully we made it in time."
Barely five minutes later, Joker heard blessedly familiar footsteps. Shepard, striding into the cockpit, her helmet under her arm. Her face was grim, dried blood splattered on her arms and gloved hands, streaked like she’d tried to hurriedly wipe it off, and her hair was slicked to her face with sweat.
“Shuttle’s fucked,” she said flatly, “but everyone’s onboard. Get us out of here. We need to get to the Citadel as fast as the ship can take us.”`
"You have the deck, Commander," he looked over his shoulder. "How's the casualty?"
“Yeah, and who is it?” Joker added. The Normandy lifted off and he pointed her bow up, hitting the thrusters aggressively, pushing hard for orbit. The Reapers would be looking for whatever Alliance ship had been pinging.
“Ashley - Lieutenant Williams,” Shepard said, jaw working, “and...not great. I’m…” she swallowed, “not sure she’ll make it if we don’t get her to proper medical attention soon. Liara is with her now.”
“Liara?” Joker blinked. The hell was T’Soni doing here?
“Yeah. She was working with the Alliance here.”
“I will inform the Citadel we will require an ambulance standing by as soon as we’re in comm range,” EDI offered.
“Thanks, EDI.”
"Commander… Would you like me to take the deck?" Vogt's voice was surprisingly gentle. "I'm happy to take us all the way into the Citadel."
Shepard took a moment to answer, something conflicted crossing her face before she nodded. “Yes, thank you. Call me up if you need me.”
"Aye, aye. I have the deck. Let's get to Charon as quickly as we can."
Codex Entry
Future Content Corporation Broadcast 21st September 2186:
[Camera feed begins. A smartly dressed asari smiles warmly at the camera.]
“Good morning, I’m Aesha T’Jalla, and you’re watching Citadel PopNews, where we interview the galaxy’s biggest stars and ask all the burning questions! Today, I’m chatting with Vera Aetrian, star of the recent simulstim holo ‘Nights on Invictus’, following a turian sergeant who finds love with an asari doctor. Welcome to the program, Vera.”
[The camera pans to a tall turian woman with teal Invictus markings and pale plating. She flicks her mandibles in acknowledgement.]
“Always a pleasure, Aesha.”
“So, how was it working with Selyana Eranos?”
“Well, Selyana is always great fun to work with. This is actually the second holo we’ve done together, and she has a great sense of humour-”
[The video cuts off, displaying a brief BREAKING NEWS banner across the screen before resolving into a grim looking news anchor.]
“We interrupt your program to bring you breaking news. A comms blackout in the Arcturus Stream has spread to the Sol System, meaning all communications with the human homeworld of Earth and the Alliance capital of Arcturus Station have ceased.
“The Alliance Councillor, Mr Donnel Udina, has remained tight-lipped, but concerns are mounting after reports of civilian and military ships arriving from human space in the Widow Nebula. Some of these ships appear damaged.
“We cross now to the Citadel Docks where reporter Lunon Maebon is with one of the human captains who just arrived from the Sol System. Over to you, Maebon.”
[Maebon is a green-skinned salarian who towers over the human woman he’s with. The human captain’s eyes are bloodshot.]
“Thank you, Katus. I’m here with Amelia Richolls, the captain of the freighter Spring Maiden. Thank you for joining me. You came from the Sol System?”
“Yes. God. We’ve been attacked. Earth was attacked. Oh my god.”
“You’re saying Earth was attacked by an enemy force?”
“Yes! They came out of the Relay and just started - tearing into the Navy and the defence stations. One of the Navy ships told us to run so we - we did. I watched several Alliance ships just disappear off our ladar. God.”
“Could you identify the attackers? Was it the batarians?”
“No-no, it didn’t look like batarian ships. It was hundreds of dreadnoughts.”
“Hundreds of dreadnoughts? No military in the galaxy has that many dreadnoughts.”
“I know what I saw! And I saw a goddamn massacre.”
Notes:
Definitions:
SWO: Space Warfare Officer.
Cherry: someone who has never seen combat
SWCOT: Space Warfare Command Officer Training
OOD: Officer of the Deck.
Chapter Text
The medbay was quiet except for the hum of the Normandy’s drive core and the soft rasp of Ashley’s breathing. The medbay chairs were flimsy plastic and never comfortable, and Shepard shifted uncomfortably in the one she occupied as it dug into her spine. Without her armour and her face swollen from her injuries, Ash looked shockingly vulnerable.
If only the Normandy had a medical team aboard. If Ashley deteriorated further there was little Shepard could do.
Objectively and somewhat distantly, Shepard knew this was far from her finest moment as a commander. The Normandy had a crew of frightened, on-edge technicians and barely enough operational personnel to run a shift. Three years ago, Shepard would’ve been out amongst them, reassuring them, projecting strength and confidence-
Instead she had given Joker his orders, given Vogt the deck and promptly locked herself back up in the medical bay.
It had been a very long time since she’d any kind of faith in a higher power, but watching the rise and fall of Ashley’s chest, she felt close to prayer - to begging. Please, please not her. Please.
The crack had been so fucking loud. She knew that kind of sound, the sound she’d heard beneath her biotic-charged fists more times than she cared to count. She’d known the way all of Ash’s fight had been snuffed out in an instant.
She reached out gingerly and pressed her fingers to the inside of Ash’s wrist just to feel the pulse there.
“Just keep breathing, cariño,” she murmured, “we’re nearly there.”
“Shepard,” EDI’s voice filled the quiet of the medbay, “we have been hailed by Fleet Admiral Hackett. He is requesting to speak with you. Doctor T’Soni wishes to join the meeting.”
He’d want to know what had happened on Mars.
“I can’t leave Ashley alone,” she said blankly, “can you…?”
“I’ll watch her.”
She looked up to find James Vega standing in the doorway. He was just in his Marine Corps grey t-shirt and fatigue pants, his uniform jacket having been torn up in the escape from Earth.
“You’ve done combat first aid training?” she asked, forcing herself to drop her hand from Ash’s arm.
“Yes. ma’am.”
She stood, wincing as her bruised body protested. “Alert EDI if she deteriorates.”
“I will,” he promised.
She forced herself to leave the medbay and not look back, smoothing her uniform in an attempt to straighten it, despite the fact it still didn’t have her name or rank on it. Liara was waiting for her in the war room and together they went into the comms room and waited for the call to connect.
The holo glitched and fuzzed for a bit before it resolved into Fleet Admiral Steven Hackett, looking as grim-faced as she’d ever seen him. Though, given they were facing down the potential extinction of their species, she couldn’t blame him.
But when she looked at him there was a small voice in her head. How much did he know about Bahak?
“Commander,” his voice was tense, “report.”
“We arrived at the outpost on Mars to find it had been infiltrated and then attacked by Cerberus. Unfortunately, most of the project staff have been killed, but we recovered the project data and Doctor Nkosi.”
Hackett frowned. “Losing those scientists and engineers is a huge blow to our war effort, I won’t lie, Shepard. At least we don’t have to start from scratch though. Send me the data and I’ll see what I can do to restart the project.”
“Of course, sir.”
“The weapon will require an immense undertaking, Admiral,” Liara said, “for a timely completion, other species will need to be involved.”
“On that we agree, Doctor. What’s your current heading, Commander?”
“We’re headed to the Citadel at flank speed. Staff Lieutenant Williams was gravely wounded recovering the data and she needs urgent medical attention.”
“That’s unfortunate,” he frowned slightly, though she suspected his concern over Ashley was more about his plans for the other woman - and her uses to the Alliance war effort, “but this is just the beginning. I need you to speak with the Council, get them onside. I don’t care what you have to do.”
“Sir. I’m not a diplomat - I never have been,” frustration flooded her voice before she could stop it, “and the Council has never listened to me, even when I was a Spectre. Now I’m just-”
“The woman who knows the most about the Reapers,” he said, merciless, “and who has connections to the krogan Overlord and the geth consensus. Besides, anyone else I’d send is dead, unaccounted for or already engaged. You’ve shown you’ll do whatever it takes to end this threat. I have other N7s. I don’t have other people who can do what I need from you.”
She looked down at her boots. The Alliance uniform she was wearing suddenly felt alien, like she was trying to inhabit someone else’s clothes, someone else’s life.. “Aye aye sir.”
“I’ve sent an email to your military account confirming your command of the Normandy and promotion.”
“Promotion?” she echoed.
“I can’t have every cruiser CO outranking you.”
“Understood, sir.” When she’d been promoted to lieutenant commander she’d been excited, proud. When they’d bumped her up to commander for the SR1 she’d know it had been politics.
Now she didn’t feel much at all.
“Go see Rear Admiral Sidorov on the Citadel and she’ll make it official.”
“Understood, sir.”
“Also in that email is confirmation of emergency powers, granted by the acting Prime Minister. Use them to negotiate with whoever you have to.”
No pressure.
Wait. “Acting Prime Minister?”
Hackett actually looked away from her. “Arcturus Station and parliament are gone. We’ve taken heavy casualties. Councillor Udina is acting head of government.”
Arcturus gone? She stared at the flickering hologram for a long moment, ears ringing. She’d been there months ago, even if it’d been a prison at the time. It’d been a home before that. A place she always came back to, with its tram system and viewing deck where her mother would take her as a kid and the burger place near headquarters.
“Your mother and brother are fine,” he said, pulling her out of her shock, “and aboard the Orizaba.”
“Thank you for telling me, sir.”
He nodded. “I want your report on Mars.”
“As soon as it’s written, sir.”
“Good. I’ll be in touch. Hackett out.”
When the Admiral’s holo winked out, Shepard braced herself against the console, letting her head drop.
“Shepard?” Liara asked from behind her. When she didn’t respond, the asari continued, her tone uncertain. “EDI and I are putting together the presentation for the Council. It should be done by the time we arrive. The Crucible could be vital to defeating the Reapers.”
Shepard pushed off, not quite meeting the asari’s gaze. “I’m going to go check on Ash.”
“I’m sure the Council will understand the need to help.”
“It’ll be a hell of a short war if they don’t.”
The Presidium was calm outside the human Councillor’s window, the lake bright blue beneath the false clouds. Elegantly dressed diplomats and politicians of every species crowded the walkways below.
At first glance, it was if a Council homeworld hadn’t just fallen. Liara sighed. The moment the Normandy had docked with the Citadel she’d reconnected to her network, and appearances were deceiving. The salarians and asari were scrambling, and the turians had been attacked shortly after the Alliance had been.
It appeared the Reapers had done their homework, engaging the two more militarily minded members of the Council first. The Hierarchy was doing better than the Alliance had, but that wasn’t saying much.
Udina was pacing, expensive shoes clicking against the floor. “Where’s Shepard?”
“She needed to make sure the casualty was handed over and that she was dressed appropriately for this meeting, Councillor,” she said, pausing a moment before the Councillor, considering the man was now acting head of government for the Alliance. “She will be here any moment.”
Calling Ashley ‘the casualty’ felt cold, considering their friendship and that Ash had most likely saved her life, but she doubted Shepard would appreciate her personal relationships being called to attention.
Udina sighed and started pacing again.
“You seem concerned, Councillor.”
“Galactic politics is a game of self-interest at the best of times, Doctor. Right now, we have all the need and none of the leverage.”
“The weapon-”
“Will be all too easy to dismiss as a hail mary.”
The door slid open and Shepard stepped through. In the time since they’d parted, Shepard had showered and found a clean Alliance dress uniform.
“Councillor Udina,” she said, hands clasped behind her back. There were shadows under her eyes - Liara doubted she’d slept since Earth had fallen.
“Commander, come in.”
Udina and Shepard had rarely gotten along, and remnants of their animosity lurked between them in the twist of Udina’s mouth and Shepard’s chilly, military courtesy and tense posture. But they seemed content for now to continue an uneasy truce, joining Liara in going over the presentation they were going to give the rest of the Council.
A plea, really, for cooperation in the face of annihilation. Project Crucible, to build a planet-killer to turn against the god-machines, and the brainchild of Shepard’s work with the Threat Analysis Office: a combined military command, to coordinate intelligence and operations across the galaxy.
“We need the turians,” Shepard insisted.
“We need them all,” Udina said dryly, “We just lost seventy percent of our industrial base. Without asari factories and resources, we won’t be able to sustain Hackett’s fleets for more than a few months.”
They were interrupted by a knock on the door.
“Mr Udina,” his secretary called, “Admiral Sidorov is here.”
Rear Admiral Sidorov was a short, grey-haired woman who immediately focused on Shepard, her expression wary, as if she was worried Shepard was going to grab the pistol she had concealed under her jacket and start shooting. Liara had briefly looked her up on her way over after Hackett had mentioned her. Sidorov was the Alliance’s liaison with the Citadel Defence Fleet, a position that had left her in the unenviable position of attempting to deal with the deluge of battered survivors from the battles in Sol and the Arcturus Stream.
“You asked for me, Councillor?”
“Yes, yes.” He more or less tossed a datapad at the poor woman, “Shepard needs to be promoted. Do it quickly, please, we have to be in front of the Council shortly.”
Sidorov’s expression sharpened and she opened her mouth, as if she was going to protest. And then she closed it and grudgingly nodded.
She cleared her throat and then read from the datapad. “Attention to orders! The acting Prime Minister of the Systems Alliance, acting upon the recommendation of the Chief of Navy,, has reposed special trust and confidence in the competence, valour, and integrity of Emilia Isabel Alves Shepard. In view of these special qualities and her dedicated service to the Systems Alliance Navy, she is therefore appointed to the grade of Captain.” The Rear Admiral paused. “I don’t have any rank bars.”
“I’ll find some,” Shepard said, something like impatience flashing across her face. Liara had witnessed one other Alliance promotion, when Ashley had been promoted after the Battle of the Citadel, and that had been a far more joyous occasion than this pedestrian version.
“I will administer the Oath of Office.”
Shepard’s voice filled the Councillor’s office. “I, Emilia Isabel Alves Shepard, do solemnly affirm that I will defend humanity and the Systems Alliance against all enemies, that I will bear true allegiance to the same, that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion, and that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office on which I am about to enter.”
“Done?” Udina demanded.
“Uh- yes,” Sidorov looked mildly scandalised at the butchering of protocol, but soon the Councillor had ushered her out.
“Your car is waiting, Councillor,” the secretary called.
“After you,” Liara said.
“They’re a bunch of self-concerned jackasses, Shepard!”
Udina stormed into his office, throwing his hands up. Shepard followed in his wake, halfway between fury and numbness. She’d pleaded, cajoled, tried to persuade - a suicidal charge on Earth was the last thing she wanted, but without a combined war effort and combined effort to build the Crucible they were all fucked.
People were dying, her home was cinders and the woman she loved was in a critical condition - and here she was, stuck talking in circles with politicians and bureaucrats.
Liara had disappeared as soon as they’d come out of the fruitless hearing. Off to do her Shadow Broker business, no doubt.
“I don’t understand how they can be so blind.” What was the point of the Council if they all decided to go their own ways as soon as there was a crisis?
“Drink?” he asked, moving to the bar in the corner of the room where there was a bottle of scotch and some glasses. She nodded and he poured them both a glass, handing hers over.
She took a long sip, trying not to think about where the bottle had come from. If it was one of the last that would ever be made.
“They’re scared,” he said at last, “and looking out for themselves.”
“Our people are scared, and we are looking out for them the best we can,” a reverberating turian voice, from the doorway. Councillor Sparatus entered, his mandibles held close to his face.
Shepard crossed her arms. “Really? Because if we all fight alone, we’ll all die alone.”
His mandibles twitched, “You must understand-”
“Understand?” she cut him off, the anger winning over the numbness, “You might have just signed my species’ death warrant.”
There was something old and resigned in his green eyes when they met hers. “I understand your anger, Shepard. I know it must feel like we’ve left eleven billion people to die. And I...can’t give you what you need, but I can tell you how to get it.”
She reigned in her temper with a deep breath and nodded. “I’m listening.”
“The Primarch Assembly is in...disarray, but in such times the Primarch of Palaven can make decisions for the Assembly. Primarch Fedorian had already floated the idea of a war summit to me before the attack on Palaven. He is the one who will be deciding where our forces fight and with whom. I believe your united command concept will appeal to him.”
“What’s the catch?”
“Fedorian was evacuated to the fortress moon of Menae but communications are spotty. If he’s trapped in a warzone he can’t properly coordinate the Hierarchy or proceed with the summit. The Normandy is one of the few ships that can extract the Primarch.”
Shepard frowned. “What about the Hierarchy’s own stealth ships?”
His mandibles flicked. “Communication is difficult. Finding a Hierarchy ship and organising a mission would take time, time we may not have. You are here and able.”
“I still need some time to organise my ship,” she admitted. She couldn’t go into a warzone with the crew she currently had - and so many holes in the bulkheads, “but...send me the brief and I’ll do it.”
“Good. there is one other thing - the Council has voted to reinstate your Spectre status, with all the associated benefits and resources.”
That could be useful - or another leash. But she just nodded as her omnitool pinged, registering the change of status. At least she could get some insight using the Spectre network.
“Good day, Captain, Councillor.”
When Sparatus was gone, Shepard drained the scotch glass and put it down on Udina’s desk. “Well...it’s a start.”
Udina nodded, sitting behind his desk. “I’ll speak with Hackett and the man in charge of the Diplomatic Corps - or what’s left of it. See if we can speed things up with this summit.”
“Any way we can lean on the other Councillors?”
“Tevos is a diplomat and compromiser - it’s why she’s supported you in the past - but she’s wrapped up in defending asari space like a mother panther. She might not be as...pliable as we might hope. It may be possible to bypass her and go to some of the more reasonable matriarchs. Valern is out of his depth. He’s afraid. That fear might be something you can use.”
She nodded. “We’re not in a great negotiating position...but I’ll keep it in mind.”
“Our economy might be reduced to an IOU right now, but we still have the colonies and some goodwill from the past few years. Leave the logistics to me.”
Udina could be a slippery bastard sometimes, but they might need that right now.
She checked the time on her omnitool. It was almost time for the press conference Udina had organised for her to attend. “I should get going.”
He waved a distracted hand, already focused on his terminal.
She slipped out, rolling her shoulders and wincing as her bruises twinged. There was a bathroom across from Udina’s office. She crossed the reception area and went inside, splashing some water on her face before making sure her hair and uniform were neat. No need to give the tabloids anymore ammunition than they already had.
And then she reached into her pocket, took out a stimulant pill and took it. She hadn’t slept in all too long and there was no time for a nap yet. She still had to find a myriad of crew or at least an XO to sort it out for her, do this press conference, check on Ash, and start getting the Normandy ready to depart the Citadel.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and strode out of the bathroom.
Codex Entry
Current State of the Alliance Military:
From: Deputy Commander, ASTRACOM ([email protected])
To: Chief of Defence ([email protected])
Subj: Current State of Our Forces
Fleet Admiral,
Please find my preliminary report attached. The situation is fluid and volatile - we have a lot of troops and units unaccounted for, so please take this report for what it is; a partial accounting of current forces we have successfully made contact with.
Regards,
Major General Gavin Kelly
Acting Commander, Alliance Strategic Command
----
Sol Command (HOMECOM):
- All naval assets in the Sol System are to be considered destroyed, including the majority of the Fourth Fleet. Surviving vessels have been regrouping at the Citadel, however casualties are estimated at close to 90%. All orbital defence stations have been destroyed.
- Some Marine and Army units remain combat effective on Earth and are forming a resistance under the command of N7 officer Rear Admiral David Anderson. While we can hope these forces can continue to resist against the occupation, evacuation at this point is likely impossible and we should consider these units beyond our reach.
Exodus Command (EXCOM):
- The Exodus Cluster has so far been bypassed by enemy forces and friendly forces report 99% readiness, including the Sixth Fleet, the 4th, 9th and 20th Marine divisions and the I Corps. Colonial Guard units are standing to and the draft should begin within the next two months.
- The Naval Exploration Flotilla has placed itself under EXCOM’s control.
Skyllian Verge Command (VERGECOM):
- VERGECOM reports limited enemy contact thus far. The Eighth Fleet remains dispersed across the Verge, but the 8th DSG and 10th CSG have withdrawn to protect Elysium.
- Colonial Guard units have mobilised and placed themselves under the command of the III Corps. The 7th, 8th and 44th Marine divisions are standing to.
- Given the loss of so many armoured units with the loss of the Sol System, I recommend the withdrawal of the 3rd Armoured Division from the III Corps to be placed into reserve.
Arcturus Command (ARCCOM):
- As you are aware, the Second Fleet has suffered 87% casualties. The First Fleet suffered 48%, Third Fleet suffered 14%, and the Fifth Fleet 6%. The 5th, 3rd and 21st Marine Expeditionary Forces have survived with their host fleets; the 19th MEF was destroyed with the Second Fleet.
- The majority of the troops aboard Arcturus itself are considered KIA. Evacuation was limited due to the swift collapse of the defending fleets.
- Contact with the Benning garrison has been sporadic, but it appears the enemy has destroyed the naval picket, comm buoys and orbital stations. However, it doesn’t appear they have occupied the planet yet. In addition to the garrison force of the Army’s I Corps, Marine 1st and 2nd Divisions and the Colonial Guard, veterans, reservists cut off from their units and volunteers are forming the ‘1st Arcturus Division’. The populace appears determined to resist any occupation that may occur.
Special Operations Command SASOC):
- A few hundred N candidates and instructors remained trapped in Brazil. Unconfirmed reports state that the instructor cadre have destroyed the Villa and withdrawn from the area with their students.
- The majority of SASOC has been withdrawn to the Fifth Fleet and awaits further reassignment.
- Elements of the 103rd remain on Elysium.
- Four N7 teams are out of contact on Earth.
Notes:
Thanks to MikWrites_inSpace for betaing for me! She's got a couple of great femshepley fics in progress.
Chapter 10: Preparation
Chapter Text
“How can you stand here while our families die?”
Khalisah’s voice cracked right down the middle. Emily Wong had never seen her lose her cool like this before, not for all the ways she needled and angered people to get the reactions her audience fed on. But what were the past twenty-four hours if not hell? She couldn’t think too long about her own family, in the UNAS and in China. Earth was dark, an unknown looming over every human present.
In front of the small group of mostly human reporters, Emilia Shepard spoke, cutting through Khalisah’s anger with an almost gentle voice. “Khalisah, we’re doing all we can. We won’t stop fighting, won’t stop trying to save everyone we can.”
Shepard had never looked so human, even with her stiff military bearing and the lines of
red-orange cutting across her dark skin. She looked tired and sad but somehow resolute.
Emily wanted to believe her.
Khalisah was in the row ahead of her, but she could hear the tears in her voice when she spoke again. “Before they cut the feeds, there were so many dead…”
After a few more questions had been answered and the press conference petered out, Emily more or less shoved her way through the crowd of her shell shocked colleagues, focused on the flash of blue uniform.
“Shepard!”
Shepard turned back. “Emily. It’s good to see you.”
They’d had something of a beneficial relationship a few years ago. Shepard had been her source on organised crime and had leaked her information on the Feros colony incident. An act that could have severely damaged Shepard’s career but had meant ExoGeni’s crimes had been dragged into the light.
“Likewise,” she said honestly.
“If you want that interview, it’ll have to wait.”
Oh right. That interview Shepard had promised her years ago. “Not quite what I’m after. How do you feel about an embedded reporter?”
She didn’t think Shepard was surprised very often, but she was by this. She blinked a few times. “Emily-”
Wong barrelled on. “You saw Khalisah back there - people are scared. They’re not getting any information about their homes and their families, and that makes it worse.”
Shepard raised an eyebrow. “You think having an embedded reporter will help that?”
“The military isn’t giving out much. You’ll be where the action is, if I know you at all.”
“I see the perks,” Shepard agreed, “but there is the issue of..sensitive information.”
“I understand some censorship is to be expected for operational security.”
Shepard smiled but there was little humour in it. “Fine. But we’re leaving within the next forty-eight hours.”
“In a rush?” Emily blinked.
“You have no idea. Docking Bay D24. One seabag.”
“Ashley will be hooked up to a lot of machines and tubes,” the nurse explained. She was a tall, willowy asari with a dark purple colouration and clean white markings across the bridge of her nose.
Huerta Memorial was organised chaos. The waiting room had a large, glass window overlooking the Presidium, and Shepard had spent long minutes looking down at the lake. There was a lot to do, especially if the Normandy was to leave the Citadel within forty-eight hours, and a couple of times she’d opened her omnitool to try and do some work, only to stare blankly at words that didn’t make sense.
“Okay.”
The only reason she was being allowed in to see her was because Ash’s family were yet to be contacted and she was still technically Ash’s commanding officer. One of the few favours the Navy had done them, perhaps.
But the nurse had picked up Shepard’s anxiety and was giving her the family talk. She was grateful - but it was distant, overshadowed by the fear that had been digging its claws into her chest since Kai Leng had slammed Ash into that shuttle.
The door slid open.
Ash looked nothing like herself. Her face was discoloured and swollen, wires and tubes branching off her body, and they’d put her on a ventilator. They’d shaved some of her beautiful hair off, dressings covering the skull underneath.
She looked - small. Fragile. All of the things Shepard had never associated with Ashley Williams.
Shepard breathed out. Her chest hurt. It felt like the entire galaxy had narrowed to this tiny room and the woman she loved, still and unmoving except for the rise and fall of her chest.
“Ashley has a traumatic brain injury and a C6 spinal cord injury,” the nurse explained, looking over one of the monitors, “our team has operated to protect her brain, but she will need further surgery for her spine. We’re waiting until the doctors feel confident she’s stable enough for that surgery, and then we’ll implant a neural splint. She’s in an induced coma to try and manage any brain swelling.”
Right. She’s heard of Marines with neural splints before. Cybernetics to reattach the damaged spinal cord together.
“You should spend some time with her,” the nurse encouraged, “you might think she won’t notice or won’t hear you, but it’ll help.”
There was a chair beside the bed and Shepard sat down. After a moment she reached out and gingerly took Ash’s hand, careful to avoid the variety of wires. Her hand was warm and Shepard squeezed, brushing a thumb across the back.
“Hey. It’s me. You scared me pretty good there,” she managed a weak smile, “but I should’ve known you were too stubborn to let that asshole kill you. Just...I need you to keep being stubborn, okay? I know it’s not exactly fair, but...I just need you. It doesn’t matter if you hate me, if you don’t want anything to do with me. I just need to know you exist.”
She hoped somewhere, Ash could hear her, or at least know someone who loved her was holding her hand.
She looked up at footsteps behind her.
“Karin!” The relief at the sight of the familiar face was one of the few positive emotions she’d felt since the Reapers had come to Earth.
“Commander - excuse me, Captain Shepard.” Chakwas reached down and squeezed Shepard’s shoulder, “I am so very glad to see you.”
“Likewise. I thought you were working at the Alliance Tower?”
“Yes, but I heard that a Normandy crew member was here in a critical condition and came up in case it was someone I knew.” Chakwas’ gaze slid past Shepard to Ashley and she frowned. “I’ve been visiting too many of our original crew in hospital over the past six months.”
“Ashley and I?”
“Yes, but also Mikhail Vorobyov,” Chakwas said sadly.
The SR1’s engineering chief and Adams’ right hand. A kind-hearted, cheerful man who’d treated Tali like a daughter.
“What happened?”
“He was the last person to leave engineering who escaped alive,” Chakwas said grimly, “he dragged Hudson out, but by then the drive core was leaking.”
“Cancer?” Shepard guessed.
“Yes,” Chakwas sighed, “brain.”
“Fuck.” Shepard had destroyed the Collectors but they were still taking people from her.
Chakwas stepped over and picked up Ash’s chart, scanning it before putting the holo pad back. “She came through her surgery well and Dr Freilik, the neurosurgeon managing her case, is highly respected in the field. She’s in good hands.”
“That’s good to hear,” Shepard said and meant it.
“I wish I could have been there on Mars to help.”
“The Normandy isn’t the same without you, Doctor.” Just being in the medbay had felt strange without Chakwas’ calm presence.
Chakwas smiled. “Has the Navy organised a CMO for you yet?”
Shepard grimaced. “They haven’t even given me a XO yet. I’ve got to go sort that out once I leave here.”
“Well, you say the word and I’ll be there.”
“Absolutely,” she said with little hesitation, “the paperwork-”
“Is best left to me, Captain,” there was a twinkle in Chakwas’ eyes. That woman was terrifying in her own way.
“Understood. Docking Bay D24.”
“I’ll go organise my things - and my reassignment.”
When Chakwas was gone, Shepard reached over and took Ash’s hand again. “I have to go but...hang in there, okay?”
Captain (and didn’t that still sit uncomfortably) Shepard walked into the Citadel headquarters of Naval Personnel Command, within the bowels of Alliance Tower, and into chaos. The paper pushers were rushing back and forth with datapads, talking to various officers, Chiefs and First Sergeants who were no doubt trying to fill in the gaps in their units.
What Shepard would give, for an XO or Command Master Chief to do the running around for her.
On the wall was the Alliance symbol, and the slogan, ‘Supporting the fleet, with the right person in the right place, at the right time.’
That would be great, but her history with the office on Arcturus made her inclined to disbelieve it. She remembered how they’d tried to take Ash off her, three years ago. Ash...she wished she could just hand off the Marine and security duties to her and not have to worry about it anymore, she wished Ash was just on her feet- doubts and all- but Ashley was unconscious in hospital, with a traumatic brain injury and a broken spine, and Shepard couldn’t let herself think about that too much.
“Captain Shepard,” A Sub-Lieutenant came to her, saluting. A few furtive glances were thrown her way at the name. She returned the salute, ignoring them. “We received your email.”
“I thought I’d come in person, get it sorted out,” She smiled thinly.
The man wrung his hands nervously, “Ma’am, we’ve been deluged with requests since- well. There’s a queue.”
Shepard’s jaw clenched, “Sub-Lieutenant, my ship has been ordered to one of the systems with the heaviest Reaper presence besides Earth. I don’t have a XO, I don’t have a Chief, I don’t have a CSO. I have barely enough Marines to fill a keg stand challenge. I need people right now.”
He scuttled back to his desk, Shepard on his heels. She said, more pleasantly, “I’ll settle for a XO and a Master Chief - hell, I’ll settle for a PO1.”
She ended up getting more than a PO1. It took a while to sort out, but she walked out feeling like a load was off her back. There was still a lot to do- meetings, checking in with how the clean-up-slash-repair of the ship was doing, helping the technical specialists and yard dogs to their new postings, bringing aboard the new crew, bringing aboard supplies and munitions and organising drills for the greenest crew she’d commanded- but at least she’d have enough crew to run the ship in combat.
Her new Command Master Chief was the first person she met. The Chief was a hot commodity - several COs had already requested him, but either Hackett’s word or her own infamous reputation had been enough to secure him for the Normandy.
Command Master Chief Yiannis Kouvelis had been sitting in the Alliance’s Tower mess hall, but he jumped to his feet at her approach. He’d been on his way to a shore posting on Arcturus Station when the invasion happened. No doubt his orders had just come through, because he didn’t look surprised to see her.
He was a tall Greek man, with a square build, dark hair and light brown eyes. The fingers on one of his hands were short by a knuckle. He’d joined the Navy in 2161 and had seen action in almost as many wars as the Alliance had had. He’d jumped into the Vetus System as part of the relief force, been a gunnery chief during the Theshaca Raids and the CMC of a destroyer during the Eden Prime War. He’d lost the fingers pulling some of his sailors out of a burning compartment during the Battle of the Citadel, and he had the Navy Cross to match the injury.
In short, he was exactly what Shepard needed: an experienced, hardened Chief to settle the nervous, green crew.
“Ma’am,” he said, his measuring gaze meeting hers.
She extended a hand to shake. “Good to meet you, Master Chief. I take it you’ve received your orders?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he shook firmly.
“Any protests?” she asked. She knew her reputation within the Navy was not what it once was, and the only thing worse than no CMC was one that undermined her.
He tilted his head. “I imagine you’re going to be in some pretty hot spots.”
“Most likely.”
He smiled grimly. “That’s how I like it.”
“I’ve got a crew full of cherries. Think you can handle them?”
“In my sleep,” he said, almost offended.
“Docking Bay D24. Feel free to kick the hornet’s nest to your heart’s content.”
“I think we’re going to get along just fine, ma’am,” his smile took on a sly quality that spoke of many, many drills for the Normandy’s sailors.
They shook hands and the sailor found his seabag and walked off to find a cab down to the docks.
Shepard rolled her shoulder and then ordered a cab herself, to BlueStar Lounge, a bar on Tayseri Ward that catered predominantly to Alliance officers. She’d often gone there with Jules and Reilly, years ago.
She hadn’t heard from them. She hoped that was just because she was considered a traitorous war criminal a few days ago.
She made a beeline for one of the booths, where a familiar figure was sitting. A short, Southeast Asian woman in an Alliance uniform, with long black hair in a bun and sharp, intelligent eyes.
“Well, well. Captain Shepard, in the flesh.” The last time Shepard had seen Gema Wulandri had been in another life, the night before Alchera, when she’d been ‘Guns’ - the Normandy SR1’s combat systems officer. They’d exchanged reports and some pleasantries. She’d been a lieutenant back then, without that hard edge in her eyes.
Hell, they’d shared a room while Shepard had still been Anderson’s XO.
“Lieutenant Commander,” Shepard said mildly, nodding at the bars on Wulandri’s shoulders, before taking a seat across from her.
“Everything is right fucked, isn’t it?” Wulandri said, taking a sip from a glass that contained a liquid of an alarming pink shade.
“Yeah.”
“You know,” Wulandri tilted her head, “I defended you during the Alchera inquest.”
“I know,” Shepard met the other woman’s eyes, “my lawyer got the documentation.” She paused. “You were right, too. About someone on Arcturus knowing where we were, to hit us.”
Wulandri’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah?”
“The Shadowbroker got his hands on patrol routes and had one of his agents put a tracker on the ship so the Collectors could find us.”
“Heard you killed the Collectors,” Wulandri broke the gaze, looking down into her glass. Wulandri had lost a few friends and several crew under her command during Alchera.
“Revenge doesn’t bring our people back, but it did feel good.”
“Almost wish I’d been there, but…”
“You couldn’t join Cerberus, I get it.”
Wulandri shook her head slightly. “Okay, but that’s what I don’t get.”
“About what?” When the other officer hesitated, Shepard sighed and leant forward. “Don’t hold back, Gema. God knows you never used to.”
“You hated Cerberus,” she frowned, “to the point there were times I was concerned it was clouding your judgement, with the whole Erebus affair. I don’t know how that turns into you working for them.”
A question she was going to hear a lot, it seemed. Shepard couldn’t blame people for asking it either, especially when she still didn’t know how to reconcile it within herself. “I did hate Cerberus. I still hate Cerberus. I woke up in their hands and my reputation already wrecked by the rumours they’d spread. I had a choice: go home, spend months in detention and hope they believed me, or try and use Cerberus’ resources to help the colonies. I don’t know if I made the right choice.”
Wulandri seemed to be thinking this over, eyebrows furrowed. And then she nodded, slammed back the rest of her drink and said, “Okay.”
Shepard blinked. “Okay?”
Wulandri shrugged. “Okay. I can’t say what I’d do in that situation.”
Shepard leant forward, not sure what to do with simple acceptance, “I need an XO. You know the Normandy class.”
Wulandri might have a sharp tongue, but her mind was sharper.
“Thought you were never going to ask,” Wulandri said with a smirk, “what are the guns like?”
Of course Gema ‘Guns’ Wulandri would want to know about the Normandy’s weapons systems. “Thanix cannon for the spinal, and I’m organising some Javelins.”
Wulandri’s eyes lit up. “I can deal with that.”
Shepard laughed. “Of course you can.”
“Send me a list of what needs doing first and we can get on it.”
“Excellent. I’ll introduce you to the ship’s AI.”
“Wait - what?”
Docking Bay D24 was a bustling hive of activity. Most of the eggheads had been kicked off, destined for research positions, and in their place were as close to a proper warship crew as the Navy could rustle up in the twelve hours since the ship had arrived. Now they loaded supplies, including two functional shuttles, and did whatever was necessary to get the ship ready for pressure-testing.
And over all of it lorded Commander Gema Wulandri, the SR1’s former CSO and now the SR2’s executive officer. Or rather, she lorded over the captain’s terminal in Shepard’s absence, a dull headache throbbing in her temples as she tackled berthings and rosters and manifests.
For a moment she imagined how she might murder her commanding officer for quite literally dropping a mountain of work on her head as soon as she’d agreed to the position. The fantasy was quickly dismissed, however. Emilia Shepard had been a terrifying space ninja before Cerberus had turned her into a walking war machine.
“Keilor,” Wulandri called over to one of the techs who was fixing a bulkhead, “do it properly. If we fail the pressure tests I’ll keelhaul you in space.”
Keilor swallowed. “Aye aye, ma’am.”
This time he started doing it properly. Satisfied, Wulandri returned to her paperwork. Shepard could play the role she was so good at: the charming, empathetic commanding officer with the open door. Wulandri had found her sharp tongue lent itself well to the traditional bad cop role the XO played.
She looked up at the sound of footsteps on the metal deck. “Ah. Joker.”
It was a Normandy reunion apparently, with Shepard commanding, Chakwas in the medbay, Adams as the chief engineer and now Moreau.
On the SR1 Wulandri and Joker had worked together closely as the ship’s chief helmsman and acting tactical actions officer. They’d both been the same rank then.
“Wulandri,” he said, close to wary. The last time they’d talked had ended poorly.
She nodded to his uniform. “I’m surprised they let you back in the Navy.”
He tugged at his hat. “Yeah, well, extraordinary times and extraordinary measures and all that.”
“Glad I won’t need to handhold a new pilot.” She turned back to her terminal.
“That’s it?” Joker demanded.
She looked back up. “Look, I’m not going to apologise for not joining a terrorist organisation, but we know each other, we work well together. I’m happy to let bygones be bygones.”
She’d meant what she’d said to Shepard. She didn’t know what she’d do, trapped in that situation. What she did know was that there were husks all over her homeland and she could put aside any personal grudges to do something about that.
“Do I have a relief pilot yet?” Joker asked.
“Got you two,” Wulandri responded, “Sub-Lieutenant Chea and Ensign Reid. Reid might need some handholding - he’s just out of flight school, but Chea is solid. I want Chea to take us out of the Citadel so you’re rested for when we get to Palaven.”
He nodded slowly and started to make his way into the cockpit.
Wulandri watched him leave before going back to her paperwork.
Codex Entry
Alliance Strategic Command Report on Cerberus:
CLASSIFIED TOP SECRET
From: Domestic Terrorism Division, Alliance Strategic Command To: Distribution List RE: Analysis on Cerberus 2186
Summary:
- Cerberus is defined as a racially motivated domestic terrorist organisation, with the aim of human supremacy. This designation was given in 2183 after various violent confrontations between government armed forces and armed Cerberus members.
- While most violent attacks by Cerberus members have been aimed at external actors, such as the Hegemony, there have been instances of attacks on Alliance personnel and officials. These attacks include the Akuze Incident in 2177, the assassinations of Claude Mennau in 2173 and Marine General Akinari Kahoku in 2183. These attacks appear to be aimed at influencing Alliance policy to be more in line with Cerberus goals.
- Cerberus’ leader is known as ‘the Illusive Man’. His identity is unknown, but he appears to have knowledge and understanding of Alliance intelligence procedures.
Analysis:
- Cerberus likely has a small but well armed and trained armed force. Many Cerberus operatives are former Alliance military personnel. Current reports suggest that these troops have been cybernetically modified and may have physical capabilities beyond Alliance personnel.
- Cerberus has access to small arms such as Harrier assault rifles, some armoured vehicles and aircraft such as Kodiak shuttles and may have a force of frigates and cruisers (see: Cerberus frigate Normandy analysis) based on Alliance Navy designs.
- It is likely Cerberus has infiltrated the Alliance military industrial industry and diverted resources to itself, potentially for decades.
- The Erebus Affair demonstrated that Cerberus has infiltrated high levels of the Alliance government and military. This infiltration poses a real and concerning threat and creates immense difficulty when combating the organisation.
- Cerberus focuses on and appeals to individuals who are suspicious of the Alliance government, military and colonists who believe the Alliance has failed to combat piracy or has ‘betrayed’ them to alien interests and has increasingly attempted to portray itself as an alternative to the legitimate government.
- Cerberus has, over the past year, used its association with Emilia Shepard, the first human Spectre credited with saving the Citadel in 2183, to garner sympathy and recruits. Unfortunately, Shepard’s attempts to discredit this propaganda by giving statements condemning the organisation appear to have had little impact. It appears sympathisers believe these statements were coerced while Shepard was in custody.
Chapter 11: The Primarch of Palaven
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The Normandy’s corridors were cold and empty. Shepard exhaled and watched her breath fog in front of her face. She was wearing her armour except for her helmet, but not her guns. Why didn’t she have her guns? Her memory felt slippery, thoughts fraying when she tried to hang onto them.
“EDI?” she called out, her voice echoing strangely off the bulkhead. EDI didn’t respond and she grit her teeth. “EDI, c’mon, this isn’t funny.”
“Shepard…” The voice was familiar - regal, asari.
She turned. For a moment she thought someone was standing in the doorway, dark and shadowy, but then the figure disappeared as soon as she looked at it properly.
“It’s not that bad, ma’am…” another voice. Male, young, pained. Just as familiar. Coming from deeper in the CIC.
She started forward, hand reaching for a gun that wasn’t there.
“I think we both know that’s not going to happen, Commander-”
She stepped into the CIC. The hull above her head was peeled back, spars of metal protruding out like bare ribs, cables sparking and twisting like intestines. Her ship, mortally wounded.
She breathed in and felt ice in her lungs.
There was a man standing in the CIC, his back to her. His Alliance armour was bloodied, the ceramic cracked in several places.
When he turned, her heart twisted in her chest. Kaidan Alenko stared at her with none of his customary warmth in his eyes. When she tried to say his name, her voice stuck in her throat.
When he spoke, her name was an accusation on his lips.
Red light flooded around them and when she looked up and through the gash in the Normandy’s hull, she saw dark metal and grasping limbs. An enemy that had been with her for years that felt like a lifetime. The Reaper spoke, in the screaming of horns, and the sound filled her head until it felt like her skull might explode.
She fell to her knees, looking up at Kaidan’s bloody face.
The red light flooded downwards.
Shepard woke up in her cabin, her sheets tangled around her limbs, her head throbbing. She struggled to free herself from the sheets and then flopped back on the bed, breathing hard and sweating.
“EDI?” she called. “Disengage privacy mode.”
“Disengaged,” the AI replied and something like relief flooded through Shepard.
“How far out are we?”
“Four hours,” EDI replied, “Commander Wulandri asked me not to wake you until we’re two hours out.”
“How’re you two working together?” she asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and running a hand through her hair.
“Commander Wulandri is wary of me but cooperative. I believe she trusts your judgement.”
Shepard wasn’t sure that was one hundred percent true, but she had chosen Wulandri not just because of her familiarity with the Normandy class but because she knew her new XO wouldn’t hold back behind closed doors. And Wulandri had known her before Alchera. Maybe having her around would make it easier to slip back into being the dutiful Alliance officer.
“Good…good.” She forced herself to her feet, trying to shake the image of Kaidan’s face - and the hate in his eyes - out of her head. Kaidan hadn’t been like that. He’d been brave and kind to the moment he’d closed the comm channel on her so she wouldn’t have to listen to him die.
“Shepard, are you well?” the AI asked.
“Just a bad dream.” In the bathroom she splashed her face and swallowed a couple of painkillers.
“Doctor T’Soni wishes to speak with you.”
“Send her up.” Liara wouldn’t care how ragged she looked right now in the PT uniform she slept in. “And let the XO know I’m up in case she needs me.”
“Of course.”
There was a knock at the door. She hit the control and it opened to Liara, who looked like she’d had even less sleep than Shepard had.
“Liara,” she rolled her neck.
“I’ve been liaising with the turian Councillor in regards to the Crucible, but he’s not budging until the primarch is safe.”
“I’m not surprised,” Shepard rubbed her face. “Have you got any intel on what’s going on in the Trebia System?”
“The Hierarchy is heavily engaged across the system,” Liara said grimly, “and there are reports of husks and batarian troops on Palaven and Menae.”
“Do we know anything about the batarian situation?”
“It appears fears that the Hegemon is indoctrinated were true and Hegemony forces are acting as auxiliaries for the Reapers. I have some reports of fighting on Khar’Shan and obviously there were those who fled, so it appears that not all batarian military forces are working for the enemy.”
Shepard considered that. “Good to know.”
If they could get in contact with those batarian forces still resisting…but that was an issue for another day.
Liara paused, studying her face. “Are you alright?”
Shepard shrugged. “Just didn’t sleep well.”
Liara’s expression turned disbelieving. “There’s more to it than that.”
“Ash getting hurt - rattled me, I guess,” Shepard shrugged half-heartedly.
Liara’s gaze gentled. “You love her, Shepard. That is perfectly natural.”
“I can’t afford to lose my shit in combat,” Shepard leant against the doorframe, “even if people have a tendency to get hurt around me.” You never can keep them alive, can you, Shepard? Leng had always been an asshole but it didn’t change the fact her orders had gotten a lot of people hurt or killed. Ash was the latest in a long line.
“Shepard,” Liara chided, “You accomplished the mission and got Ash out of there. Don’t blame yourself.”
Garrus’ side ached as he climbed out of the hammock he’d been sleeping in fitfully. It had been a long forty-nine hours of fighting, either advancing or withdrawing with the flow of the battle, sometimes having to run when their position crumbled. He’d started with five of his own people from his taskforce, but they’d been separated, and then he’d been with General Victus’ legion before he’d had to lead a flanking manoeuvre and ended up here, at FOB Firax.
Everything was out of his claws now. He had to hope that what he’d done with Fedorian would help, and now try to make himself as useful as he could.
He scratched his face and reached down to find his rifle and helmet. He had slept in his armour and there was a nasty crick in his neck. The barracks around him was dim, several off-duty soldiers trying to grab what sleep they could before the next, inevitable, attack.
Much of Firax was dug into the rock of Menae, protecting it from bombardment, with only the airfield, comms tower and defences up top. Garrus had been in and out of a few of the moon’s bases and they all looked the same.
He stepped over a corporal using her helmet as a pillow and emerged into the corridor, pulling his helmet on. The HUD slid across his vision in glowing blue lines. The lights were dimmed to preserve the base’s power. Light and even heat was less important than the oxygen and mass effect generators, after all.
Garrus decided to grab whatever he could find to eat and then go looking for Corinthus and something worth doing.
The mess hall wasn’t serving hot food but he ripped into a MRE, eating quickly as he could. It was when he stopped moving that he couldn’t stop the thoughts bubbling up - about his homeland on fire, about his father and sister, about his best friend who might be dead already.
A scrap of conversation across the long, metal table caught his attention. Two sergeants in battered hardsuits, similarly digging into their MREs.
“Did you see the humans coming in?” One, a sandy-plated woman, asked.
“Humans?” he asked.
The sergeant glanced over at him, her mandibles flicking. “Uh - yessir. Some Alliance soldiers showed up a couple of hours ago. Bartus said they’re looking for the primarch or something-”
Garrus swallowed the last of his MRE and rose to his feet. “Thanks. They’re with the general?”
“I think so, sir.”
If Alliance troops were here, maybe he could get some information on what was going on in human space.
The general’s TOC was one of the most heavily shielded and heavily guarded, but the soldiers guarding the door let him through with only a cursory challenge. Authority - respectability - still felt very strange. Part of him felt like an imposter and had since his father had brought him to meet Primarch Fedorian, like they had to realise sometime that he was just a failed cop, a failed Spectre candidate and bad turian. Instead, slowly, they’d started to listen to him.
The TOC was full of the 6th Palaven Legion’s officers and operation NCOs watching their consoles and tacnets, overseeing the unit’s outposts and current operations. And, standing over a table with a holo projector in the centre, General Corinthus and their visitors.
“-normally succession is simple, but the Hierarchy is in chaos. Too many high ranking officers are dead or MIA.”
“I understand, General,” a familiar voice said, “but I gave Sparatus my word. I’m leaving this moon with a Primarch, one way or the other.”
He flicked his mandibles as a jolt of joy went through him. “We’ll find you the Primarch, Shepard.”
Corinthus nodded to him. “Vakarian.”
“General.”
Shepard turned from the table, her face lighting up beneath her visor. “Garrus! Damned good to see you.”
Flanking Shepard were Liara - Spirits he was glad to see two of his friends in one piece - and a human man he didn’t recognise.
“Good to see you in one piece, Garrus,” Liara smiled.
“You too, Liara.”
“Garrus, this is Staff Sergeant Vega. Vega, this is Garrus. Helluva soldier, helped me take down Saren and the Collectors.”
Vega nodded to him.
Shepard shook her head slightly, “I thought you’d be on Palaven.”
Part of him still wished he was. “I’m the closest thing to a Reaper expert we have, so I was here advising Fedorian. If we lose Menae and its facilities, we’ll lose Palaven.”
“I got a name back from the Bureau of Succession,” Corinthus said, breaking through the reunion, “General Adrien Victus, currently commanding officer of the 12th Palaven Legion. He’s here on Menae.”
“Huh,” Garrus said. Victus, Primarch of Palaven? This was going to be interesting.
Shepard caught that. “You know him, Garrus?”
“I was fighting alongside him this morning,” or at least he thought it had been morning, “his legion is holding territory to the west. Lifer, popular with his troops - less so with Command. He has a reputation of being unorthodox. Playing fast and loose with accepted strategy.”
Shepard made a thoughtful noise. “Creative thinking might just be what we need.”
“I trust him,” Garrus told her. He’d known Victus personally for all of forty-eight hours, but the man was driven, brave and personally charismatic. There were a lot worse people to lead his people through this war.
Shepard turned to Corinthus, decided, “Can you get in contact with Victus and organize a rendezvous? Either we go to him or he comes here.”
“If you want to grab him yourself,” Garrus interjected, “it’ll have to be by ground, at least part of the way. That sector is full of Reaper AA and oculus. Aircraft were getting shot down as soon as they were off the ground.”
“Understood.”
“I’ll try to raise him,” Corinthus agreed.
The comms across the room erupted, the Operations Officer hissing out a Spirits and getting to his feet.
“Report!” Corinthus snapped.
“Topside reporting heavy enemy contact,” the Major’s voice was admirably steady, “platoon-strength batarian infantry, some Cannibals, at least company-strength husks. Captain Kastus doesn’t believe they’ll be able to hold for long. We may have to seal the doors.”
Seal the thick, heavy doors into the buried portion of the base, leaving the soldiers topside to die and trapping everyone here until the enemy moved on, breached the doors or reinforcements arrived.
Garrus heard Shepard beside him, her voice quiet but determined, “Mierda. We’re not doing that.” Then she stepped forward, getting the general’s attention. “Sir, while you get in touch with General Victus, I’ll assist your troops in repelling the attack.”
Corinthus’ mandibles drew close to his face in concern. “Captain Shepard, you’re my guest and the Alliance’s envoy. If you died, it would greatly dishonour my legion.”
“With respect, General, I’m a Spectre. I’m not asking for permission.” When Corinthus’ mandibles flicked in displeasure - Garrus could almost hear his own father’s disgusted utterance of Spectres - she softened it with, “If we lose the comm facilities uptop you might not be able to contact Victus at all.”
After a moment he nodded begrudgingly. “I’ll send word as soon as I get in contact with the Primarch.”
“Thank you. Coming, Garrus?”
“Right behind you!”
He wanted to be able to take a moment to grab his best friend’s arm and tell her how relieved he was that she was alive, but there was no time for sentiment. Instead, they began to run up the twisting staircase back to the surface, not bothering with the busy elevator that was being used to bring up ammunition.
Shepard took the lead, taking the stairs two at a time, Garrus and Liara behind her. He could hear the big Marine panting - though he didn’t fall behind.
“That you gasping back there, Vega?” Shepard called back, voice teasing.
“Air’s just thinner than I’m used to,” he protested, “adrenaline is better than oxygen any day.”
“Uh huh. Sounds like someone needs to do more cardio.”
They burst out onto the surface. The air was thick with gunfire. A handful of turian soldiers were dashing around, carrying heatsinks and ammunition between storage and the soldiers manning the defences.
Shepard grabbed the nearest soldier by his webbing. He was a good head taller than her, but her grip stopped him dead in his tracks. “Who’s in command up here?”
“Captain Kastus!” the soldier pointed a claw at another turian across the base.
Captain Kastus was a tall, female turian with pale, yellow Epyrus markings sweeping the lines of her light grey carapace. She was already wounded, a white patch of medigel on her left forearm.
Shepard wasted no time. “Four guns, two biotics, Captain. Where do you need us?”
She pointed to the north wall of the FOB. “They’re pressing us hard. Do whatever you can, ma’am.”
Shepard just nodded and gestured for the three of them to follow her. There was a ladder up to the top of the metallic wall and Garrus heaved himself up. On top were a handful of battered turian soldiers and a heavy machine-gun. He could feel the thud-thud-thud of the HMG firing in his bones.
Garrus glanced over the edge, winced and looked over at Shepard. He knew he and Shepard were having the same thought - they were in trouble. Below them was a long stretch of rocky valley, and it was boiling with husks. It had to be hundreds of them, a tidal-wave of once-humanity, packed in so tightly that they were crawling over each other, their limbs all tangled together.
They were wailing and snarling, a terribly familiar sound.
The HMG was firing down into them, barely one hundred metres away. Wherever the HMG passed, they were cut down as if by a scythe, but more kept climbing over the bodies.
“Sweet Mary, mother of God,” Vega said and fired his rifle. It was like throwing a pebble into a pond, the bodies of the husks he’d shot (and the man was a decent shot, Garrus would give him that) disappearing beneath a dozen others.
Behind Garrus, Shepard keyed her comm. “Hawk-1, this is Ranger, stand by. We may need to bug out quickly, over.”
Garrus felt her eyes slide over to him and knew she had no intention of leaving him behind, not if she had to knock him out and carry all seven feet of him out herself. The promise of safety did little to make him feel better. All too many here didn’t have that.
His father and sister didn’t have that.
Garrus levelled his Phaeston at a husk that had gotten past the HMG’s cone of fire and pulled the trigger. Husks had no sense of self-preservation, no concept of retreat. There was simply kill or be killed.
Liara tossed a glowing biotic ball into the heaving mob, tugging several off their feet, and in the next second there was a deep boom as Shepard, burning bright with her corona, detonated the field. The resulting explosion had enough force to toss one husk’s arm up onto the top of the barricade.
Distantly, Garrus noted that it was still wearing scraps of Alliance Marine armour.
Their fire was holding them back from the barricade for now, but every time the HMG gunner had to reload, they’d get just a bit closer.
“Keep it up!” Shepard encouraged, pitching her voice to carry above the gunfire.
“Like fish in a barrel!” Vega shouted as he tossed a frag grenade into the valley below.
“Down to three heatsinks!” the machinegunner, a young sand-plated male, called. Heavy machine-guns used specialised heatsinks - they couldn’t just give him theirs. And with the way the husks were still coming, he’d burn through those sinks in a matter of minutes.
“Ammo bearer should have been here already,” another turian soldier shouted, firing her Phaeston until it beeped.
“Garrus, Liara,” Shepard called, “go get the man his heatsinks.”
“On it, Shepard!” he called back and started clambering down the ladder. Liara simply stepped off and floated to the ground gracefully, shrouded in her biotics.
“Show off,” he said, with an amused flick of his mandibles. She grinned at him and, Spirits, he hadn’t thought he’d ever see his friends again. “They were bringing heatsinks up to the door, we should be able to find some for the HMG there.”
“Right behind you,” she promised and then they began to run. They passed Kastus, calling for artillery fire into her comm, and a medic, kneeling over a groaning soldier, his arm at a wrong angle.
The entrance into the base below was a set of heavy, fortified doors set into the rock. They were currently open, a few soldiers carrying crates of heatsinks from the elevators. Garrus jogged forward, calling out.
“I need HMG heatsinks!”
“Here, sir!” One of the soldiers passed them both a crate each.
Then back to the barricade, running as fast as they could with the heavy crates in their arms.
As they came to the wall, Garrus realised that the HMG was silent. Liara tossed both crates up and Garrus heaved himself up, and now he could hear the bark of Shepard’s shotgun, Vega yelling something. When he got to the top of the ladder he saw Shepard grappling with two husks and the turian gunner on the ground, another husk standing over him.
But there was something wrong with it. Set in its abdomen was some kind of power cell or power source, glowing sullen red.
It promptly exploded.
Garrus was thrown backwards, losing contact with the walkway, bits of husk splattering across the front of his armour - and then there was just the empty air at his back. He fell, landing hard enough to drive the breath out of his lungs.
“Garrus!” Shepard called. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll live,” he wheezed, sitting up. Where was his rifle? There - his claws closed around it.
And then, because his day hadn’t been terrible enough as it was, his comm crackled.
“-husks in the wire, husks in the wire - Spirits, it’s the big ones!”
The husks were climbing up the wall like particularly creepy spiders. James fired until his rifle beeped at him and then resorted to bashing at a husk’s head with the butt as it tried to get onto the walkway.
“Should we pull out?” Liara called to Shepard, flinging another weird, glowy blue orb into a mass of husks, pulling them into the ground. Vakarian reappeared up the ladder, looking a bit dusty from his fall but otherwise in one piece.
“Negative,” Shepard replied, in between shots, “we’re pretty fucking decisively engaged.”
AKA they couldn’t run, and with the base being overrun, there was no way for Cortez to get in safely.
A husk crawled up and over the top as James slammed a new heatsink home. At some point it had been shot and there was a gaping hole in its chest, revealing desiccated organs and twisting tubes.
It lept for him in the same moment he brought the rifle up, jamming his finger down on the trigger. It flopped to the ground, sawn in half by his hurried burst - its hands still trying to drag its mangled body towards him.
“Mierda,” he grimaced and shot it in the head. They just didn’t quit.
“Fuck this shit. I’m going to get the Normandy to drop on that fucking valley,” Shepard decided. “Keep them off me while I call it in!”
“Aye ma’am.”
Shepard crouched, focusing on calling the Normandy, and Vega stepped forward to watch over her. Behind them he could hear shouting, gunfire and the odd scream. He could only hope the Normandy could drop some ordnance before they were caught in the pincer.
Since when did husks have tactics?
“Heads down!” Shepard yelled.
The whole world shook as the Normandy’s guided bombs hit, a rumbling that seemed to last for a small eternity. Dust and smoke erupted into the air, and when James poked his head up, there was nothing moving in the valley except for a few stragglers.
Shepard grabbed one of the (mostly unwounded) turians and shoved him towards the HMG. “Get that gun up. You three, with me!”
The outpost was chaos. They’d closed the doors into the deeper outpost, the lock glowing forbidding red. Husks mixed with the hard-pressed turian defenders - and not just husks. Their team was forced into cover by gunfire. More of those fucked up looking batarians and husk-things that had to have once between turians. He preferred when husks couldn’t use guns.
“Frag out!” he shouted, seeing no (alive) turians at the enemy position, and tossed a grenade at them. It went off with a whistle of shrapnel and Shepard was moving in a flash of blue.
They had to keep moving. Breathing hard, James charged out of cover after her. They rounded the corner of one of the FOB’s shelters and -
“What is that thing?”
The Reaper creature was huge, with crab-like claws and a turian-like head on the end of a snaking neck. It roared at the sight of them, beating one claw against its chest. Instinctively, Vega raised his rifle and shot at it.
All that seemed to do was piss it off.
The brute roared again and lowered its head, charging towards him.
Oh shit.
Shepard swung out a glowing hand and the ensuing biotic field hit Vega square in the side. He went flying, feeling weightless for a few seconds, like he was back in zero-g training. Then the biotic glow surrounding him winked out and he went crashing back to the ground, head ricocheting off a rock.
For a moment he lay there, stunned. Gotta - gotta move.
He rolled onto his side and then got back to his feet. His rifle had gone flying and he wasn’t sure where it was, so he pulled his shotgun off his back.
When he looked up the others were still firing at the brute, but it wasn’t having much of an impact. It was bleeding a dark liquid from a handful of wounds that had found vulnerable, fleshy points, but it just seemed enraged.
They needed something heavier to take out this cabrón.
He glanced around - and there, inside the nearby structure he could see the long tube of a rocket launcher. Hopefully turian ones weren’t too different from Alliance issue launchers. He gritted his teeth and forced himself to his feet despite his ringing head and staggered forward.
James promptly found himself on the ground again. He’d tripped on - something - and his hands were in a pool of dark blue liquid. What?
Dark blue -
He tilted his head. Captain Kastus was lying on her back, surrounded by congealing, blue blood, her mandibles slack and yellow eyes staring blankly. She’d been shot in the chest and neck.
“Fuck.” He climbed to his feet again and grabbed the rocket launcher.
When he emerged from the doorway, Shepard was ducking beneath the brute’s swiped claw, backpedalling.
“Keep clear!” he shouted, and pressed what he hoped was the trigger. The rocket leapt from the barrel and smashed into the Reaper creature’s bulky chest.
For a moment it stood, its body ripped open, and then it fell with a heavy thump.
James gasped in a breath, letting the tube drop to the ground as an eerie silence fell over the FOB. They’d done it.
“Good job with the launcher,” Shepard said, coming over and patting him briefly on the shoulder, “I didn’t hurt you by tossing you?”
His head hurt, but he said honestly, “Pretty sure you saved my ass, ma’am.”
Some of the turians - battered and exhausted as they were - were already moving to start patching the hole in the perimeter and set up their defences again. He had to admire that kinda grit.
“Take a moment,” Shepard said and stepped aside. He didn’t have to be asked twice. He sat down on a nearby crate and found the straw inside his helmet, take a few long sips from his hardsuit’s water tank.
Shepard’s comm buzzed. “Ranger, this is Corinthus, come in, over.”
“Corinthus, this is Ranger. Over.”
“We cannot get in contact with General Victus. It appears we’re being jammed, over.”
“Copy that. We’ll go in on foot, over.”
“Good luck. Corinthus out.”
Shepard’s sharp gaze switched to Vakarian. “How far is it to where you last saw Victus?”
“A couple of hours if we make good time,” Garrus replied.
“Let’s go. I’m not leaving Menae without a primarch.”
General Adrien Victus stepped down onto the rocky surface of Menae as Shepard let her rifle hang by its strap, feeling the long day and hard fight to get here in every part of her body.
“Captain Shepard. I know who you are. I can’t wait to find out what you’re doing here.”
When he turned his attention to Garrus, she watched him keenly. She hoped he was the right man for the job. Millions might die if he wasn’t.
A heavy weight for one man to carry, and she was the deliverer of that burden.
“General,” she said when he looked back at her, “I’m sorry to say that Primarch Fedorian is dead. His shuttle was shot down.”
“May he rest with the spirits of Palaven itself,” Victus said grimly. “Who is the new primarch?”
No way to cushion it. “You are.”
He stared at her for a long, disbelieving second - and then past her, at Palaven. “I’m Primarch of Palaven?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not here as the Hierarchy’s messenger,” he said, gaze sharpening. He was no fool then, good.
“A war summit has been called between the Citadel species, a war summit that requires your attendance. I promised Councillor Sparatus that I’d evacuate you.”
Well, Fedorian, but Victus was better than a corpse.
His mandibles twitched. “I’m no diplomat, Shepard.”
“Right now, I think a man who understands war is exactly what we need. If we don’t stand together, we’ll die alone.”
A pause, and then he nodded. “I need to say goodbye to my men. I’ll need to bring some of my staff with me.”
“Of course.”
Primarch Adrien Victus stepped aside, his head bowed, and Shepard looked up and watched Palaven burning.
Codex
Hierarchy Standard Issue Infantry Equipment:
Small Arms:
Assault Rifle: AR-91 Phaeston
Pistol: P-47 Stiletto
Sniper Rifle: M-92 Mantis
Anti-Material Rifle: AMR-51 Krysae
Medium Machine-gun: MMG-123 Tyrax
Heavy Machine-gun: H52 Armax
Ground Vehicles
APC: C77 Tyrus
Engineering Vehicle: C77-E Tyrus
IFV: C77-I Tyrus
Command Vehicle: C77-CV Tyrus
SAM Platform: C77-S Tyrus
Mobile Missile Platform: MT71 Jiris
Light Mobile Vehicle: LMV77 Janus
Notes:
FOB - Forward Operating Base. Pronounced like key fob, not F-O-B Bioware :|
TOC - Tactical Operations Centre.
HMG - heavy machine-gun
Decisively engaged - a unit can't withdraw and is fully committed to battle.
Chapter 12: Negotiations
Chapter Text
Shepard found Garrus in the gunnery control room - along with her executive officer. Their voices carried through the door. Ah, so she’d stumbled into some sass-to-sass combat, When - if - Ash came back, the Normandy’s sarcasm levels were going to be off the charts.
“What do you mean, you’re going to calibrate my gun?”
“Your gun?” Garrus questioned, with a certain smug tone in his voice, “who do you think calibrated it for our mission against the Collectors?”
“Aren’t you a mechanic?” Wulandri asked dryly.
“I’m an engineer, thanks, I just helped out with the Mako. Have a look.”
A moment of silence and then Wulandri said, “Huh.”
“I’m good.”
“I suppose so. Don’t break anything, Vakarian.”
“Yes ma’am,” Garrus’ voice hummed with amusement.
Shepard stepped through the door. “Garrus, Guns.”
“Captain,” Wulandri nodded to her, “I was just leaving.”
“I’ll talk to you later.”
Shepard turned back to Garrus. “Settling in?”
“A hammock and a big gun to calibrate?” he flicked his mandibles, “It’s practically a vacation.”
“I really appreciate you coming with me,” she touched his armoured shoulder.
“Someone has to watch your back. I heard about Ashley - I’m sorry, Shepard.”
She looked away, “She’ll be okay. She’s a fighter.”
Garrus had the courtesy not to point out that didn’t always have an influence on who lived and who died. “She’s certainly stubborn.”
She didn’t really want to talk about Ashley. It was hard enough trying to compartmentalise her worry as it was.
“So…advisor, huh?”
His mandibles flared ruefully and leant against the bench behind him. “I followed your example - shout loud enough and someone will come to see what the fuss is about. I went and spoke to my father, and he…believed me. Helped me meet Fedorian. Eventually they gave me a taskforce to prepare for the Reapers, let me back into the Army. I think it was mostly a token effort to shut me up, but I think I did something, at least.”
She nodded. “I know you did all you could, Garrus.”
“After everything…they’re coming to us and asking us to save the galaxy. No pressure.”
“Piece of cake.”
“We’re actually responsible now,” he chuckled.
“Ha,” she shook her head slightly, “I think the respectable tag comes with a lot of caveats.”
“You’re probably right.”
“I’m going to go see Victus. I don’t know if the conversation is going to go the way I want it to.” Victus was a pragmatic man by what little she knew of him, and the Alliance had little to offer.
“He’s reasonable,” Garrus reassured her, “and he cares.”
“Hopefully that’s enough for this alliance. I should go see him but before I do - we’ve got a fair few of the old crew aboard. Chakwas, Joker, Adams down in Engineering, obviously Wulandri. I’m sure they’d be glad to see you.” Her meeting with Adams had been very brief and there’d been a look in his eyes that suggested they needed to have another talk but God, there was just so much to do.
“I’ll make the rounds,” he laughed.
She touched his shoulder again and then went in search of the Primarch.
Wulandri had set him up in the war room, so he could use part of the Normandy’s facilities to keep in contact - at least sporadically - with the nation he was now tasked with leading.
“Primarch,” she said, finding him behind the terminal he’d commandeered. He was in a turian uniform, grey with red markings on the shoulders.
“Captain Shepard. If you don’t mind my asking - what’s our heading?”
“We’re returning to the Citadel to pick up the rest of my crew,” the bulk of the new Marine Detachment including her new MARDET CO and a few extras, “and, according to my emails, some staff for you. After that, we’re heading to the Annos Basin for the summit.”
Victus had brought along a handful of turians from his legion. Four of them were in the briefing room that had once been Mordin’s lab, armed and allowed to guard the door as a courtesy. Armed turians and a Primarch on an Alliance frigate. That wouldn’t have happened even ten years ago.
He nodded slowly. “Can I speak plainly with you, Captain?”
“Of course.”
She leant against the nearest bulkhead and crossed her arms. Victus studied her with intelligent, yellow eyes.
“I’ve studied your proposal - for the alliance between our nations and for the unified command. It’s sensible and well thought out. But…” Here it comes, “the Alliance has little it can offer the Hierarchy right now, through no fault of your own, with so much of your population and industry under Reaper occupation. Your people can’t give me the boots on the ground I need for Palaven.”
“I understand that, sir, but if we don’t fight together, don’t build the Crucible together, we’ll all die on our own.”
“On that, we agree. But I hope you can understand my dilemma.”
She wanted to be angry. Her entire species was on the brink of extinction. But the turians were in much the same position, and they were both military officers. She did understand.
“I do.”
“Vakarian says you’re close friends with Urdnot Wrex.”
She blinked. “You mean…”
“Call the Overlord, get him to this summit, Captain, and you’ll get your alliance.”
Shepard resisted the urge to rub her temples. “The salarians will be furious. And Wrex - he’ll have demands.”
She thought she already knew some of what he’d want.
“That’s what the summit is for.”
“Very well. I’ll call him.”
This was going to be a hell of a mess for her to deal with once the asari and the salarians found out who was joining them.
Ashley woke slowly, in phases. The first few times had been confusing and short, doctors and nurses talking to her, but the words not making much sense before she’d lapsed back into the painlessness of unconsciousness.
This time the pain was a red haze over her thoughts, the back of her head and her neck radiating white-hot agony up and down her back. She groaned, prying her gritty eyes open. The ceiling was white and unfamiliar. What had happened? Where was she? She tried to grasp onto her memories, but they felt tattered and slippery, just beyond reach.
“Ash? Ash!” There were hands on hers, a familiar face focusing slowly into view. Sarah Williams-McCall, her baby sister, dark hair tied up and concern written all over her face.
“Sarah?” she broke off, coughing. Her throat felt raw.
“Easy, easy. Here,” Sarah pressed a button and the bed hummed, lifting Ash’s upper body up. Now she could see the room - hospital white, with a glass window overlooking the Presidium. The Presidium - she was on the Citadel then. “Here, your throat must be sore - they only extubated you this morning.”
Sarah held up a cup. Ice chips. The first one was cool and soothing. After a couple more she looked over at her younger sister, who somehow looked older than twenty-one. Older, and worried.
She licked her cracked lips, “What- what happened?”
“The nurses said a military ship brought you in. We’re in Huerta Memorial,” there were unshed tears in Sarah’s eyes, she realised, and her grip on Ash’s hand was crushing, “you nearly died.”
Mars. Shepard, biting and angry. Kai Leng, his hands on her helmet and the sensation of her own bones breaking.
Ash squeezed her hand back. “I - did they say if our mission was a success?”
“Your mission?” Sarah blinked, pulling back slightly.
“It was-” God, it was hard to think through the pressure and pain, “it was important.”
“Jesus Christ, Ash. You nearly died and you’re thinking of that?”
Sarah couldn’t understand. She winced against the pain in her head and Sarah’s flash of anger faded as quickly as it came.
“Are you in pain?”
Oh yeah. Getting shot back in ‘83 hadn’t hurt like this did. “A bit.”
“They set up a button for you for pain medication - they said you’d be pretty sore. Here.”
She pressed the button almost as soon as Sarah had it in her hand. Thank God for morphine.
“Sarah,” she said softly, “Thomas?”
Sarah looked away, jaw clenching. “We were on our honeymoon, you know. He got called back in because of the invasion. That was two days ago and I haven’t heard from him since.”
“Sarah-”
There was a knock at the door and a green-skinned salarian in a labcoat stepped into the room.
“Lieutenant Williams,” he said in a clipped accent, “I’m Doctor Freilik, your neurosurgeon. Excellent to see you awake.”
“Neurosurgeon,” she blinked, “I must have been pretty messed up.”
“I’m afraid your injuries were severe, yes. You suffered a traumatic brain injury and a fractured skull as well as a C6 spinal cord injury.”
Dread flooded her. “My spine was broken?”
Freilik nodded, “Yes, but your prognosis is very good. We implanted a neural splint, which should allow you close to a full recovery. The Alliance Marine Corps is paying for your treatment and requested we do everything we can to get you back on your feet. We hope to have you moved into rehabilitation in a few days.”
She slumped in relief. The last thing Ash wanted now the Reapers had shown up was a fucking medical discharge.
“Thanks.”
“The human Councillor’s office requested to be notified when you were awake. Are you comfortable with the hospital doing so?”
Udina? What did he want with her? “Uh…sure.”
When Freilik was gone, Sarah dragged her chair forward and grabbed Ash’s hand again, holding onto it like a lifeline. Ash wished she could give her a hug, but trying to sit up seemed a bad idea and she had an IV in her other hand.
“Amaterasu is out of contact too,” Sarah whispered. Their mum, Lynn and Abby…
She could only squeeze Sarah’s hand back.
Flight Lieutenant Steven Cortez stretched as he stood up from kneeling near the Kodiak’s rear left thruster, his inspection complete. Unfortunately, they still only had the single shuttle after the misadventure on Mars (the first time he’d deliberately crashed his aircraft), and his requisition for a replacement was still pending, so he was taking no chances with this one. The lives of the ground team were in his hands until they were on the ground.
“You know they have techs for that, right, Esteban?”
He looked over his shoulder to see Staff Sergeant Vega standing there, arms crossed and grin on his face.
“I like to do it myself, you know that.”
“What kind of officer are you even? Doing your own work when some poor enlisted serviceman could do it for you…”
Steve chuckled. “The type that’s trying not to get your ass killed.”
Vega smirked. “That would be a waste of a very fine ass.”
Vega flirted with everyone and everything and a few years of knowing James had given him some immunity to it. He noticed the bruise mottling James’ cheekbone. “What happened to your face?”
“The boss happened,” he shrugged, “she told me I was reckless, kicked my ass and then gave me a pep talk. She’ll probably wanna talk to you about the whole ‘deliberately crashing a shuttle thing’.”
Steve rolled his eyes. Marines. “Hopefully with less punching. Are we docking?”
“Yep. The new MARDET is already waiting for us, along with the rest of the crew. We’ll almost be at a hundred percent readiness, the X said.”
“Doubt that’ll last,” he said grimly. “Nervous?”
Vega scoffed. “What do I have to be nervous about? The new Marines are a bunch of grunts, I can handle grunts.”
Cortez could’ve pointed out it’d be the first time since Fehl Prime that he’d be a platoon sergeant, but he didn’t. “New platoon leader?”
The other man shrugged. “Hand holding a butter bar always sucks, but I doubt Shepard will put up with too much ring knocking. And she’s still the boss more than anyone else.”
Cortez’s discussions with Captain Shepard thus far had been brief, but he had to agree. Beyond the fact the woman was a mustang with a mustang’s disdain for ring knockers, Shepard was a tough and demanding commanding officer thus far, if a very fair one. Incompetence or bravado wouldn’t be tolerated for long.
“Well, here’s to your new lieutenant not getting you lost despite having a nav system.”
“I’m not sure I’m that optimistic.”
They were interrupted by the arrival of Lieutenant Traynor, who appeared from the elevator with a harried expression on her face and a datapad in hand.
“Hey, Traynor.”
“Cortez, Vega,” she grimaced, looking down at her datapad, “I’m supposed to welcome the new MARDET and find them berths. There’s so many of them!”
“A whole platoon, even,” Steve said mildly.
“Very funny.”
“Are they bringing equipment or do I need to requisition some while we’re here?” he asked. If he needed to organise rifles and armour, he’d need to make some creative arrangements. The Alliance’s logistical system was still FUBAR.
“Uh,” Traynor said.
“I’ll ask the new lieutenant.”
“You’ll ask me after I’ve had a chat with the squad leaders,” Vega corrected.
Steve hid a smile and nodded.
EDI’s voice filled the docking bay, “Stand by for lowering of cargo bay door. Please stand clear.”
The ramp came down with the whirring of machinery, revealing the docking bay the Normandy was nestled into. He could see a clump of blue uniforms milling at the far side - the Normandy’s new Marines.
Sam set off to the bottom of the ramp, and after a moment, Steve and James followed her. Two of the Marines met them there, a study in contrasts. One, wearing the yellow bar of a Second Lieutenant, was a fresh-faced young man with sandy blond hair and clear green eyes. The other was a tall, dark-haired woman, a sergeant by her chevrons and Maori by the swirling tattoo on her chin.
“Hi, I’m Lieutenant Sam Traynor, this is Staff Sergeant James Vega, your new platoon sergeant, and Lieutenant Steve Cortez, the ship’s shuttle pilot and acting supply officer.”
“Evening, ma’am. Lieutenant Beaumont, and Sergeant Hohepa, who has been acting platoon sergeant. Pleasure.” He looked decidedly nervous, his eyes flicking between Sam’s welcoming smile and Vega’s measuring stare.
James was gonna eat this kid alive. He played the buffoon sometimes, but he was good at his job. Very good.
“We should get your Marines aboard - it’s going to be a bit cramped, I’m afraid.”
“Always is on a frigate, ma’am,” Sergeant Hohepa said politely - and definitely Maori by her accent.
“Well, if you’ll follow me.”
Shepard sat beside Thane Krios, watching the light breaking on the lake below. His presence had always been restful. Even now, with how his breathing came in audible rasps. She was glad that he was getting proper care, and near his son too. He seemed utterly at peace with his own, encroaching death.
He’d let go of his regrets.
After a moment, he tilted his head to look at her, breaking the silence, “The woman - the Alliance Lieutenant in the high dependency ward, the one who will be joining my rehab group. She means something to you.”
“You said that Irikah - woke you up. Ashley did the same for me, three years ago.” After Akuze, after her divorce, she’d been sleepwalking through her life, awake only when she was being shot at.
“Your enemies may try to finish her off here,” Thane said, and she winced, knowing he was right, “I will look out for her.”
“Thank you, Thane,” she said through the lump in her throat.
“I am at the end of my life,” he said with the calm of a still lake, “it is a good time to be generous.”
“I’m sorry.”
He was only in his forties, his son barely twenty.
He smiled. “Don’t be. There comes a time where one must put down the sword and rest from war. This is not your time, but it is mine. I am freed of my fears and my responsibilities. It is a good end to a life.”
“I’ll miss you.”
“And I you, until we meet again across the sea.”
They sat in calming silence until Thane glanced at his omnitool. “I believe it is visiting hours for the ward.”
She stood and touched his shoulder. “I’ll visit when I can.”
“Do not fear for me. The doctors here are excellent, and my son visits regularly. Now you are free, perhaps my emails will get through.”
“Here’s hoping.”
“Until we meet again.”
Ashley was still in bed, her face mottled blue and purple with bruises, an IV in one hand, but she was awake.
“Hey,” Shepard said quietly.
“Hey.”
The silence hung between them, stiff, before Shepard gingerly put the care package she’d brought on the bedside table and then settled into the chair. “Brought a secure datapad to access intel on how the war is going - and a bunch of poetry books. I know having nothing to do always drove me crazy after Akuze.”
Ash blinked a couple of times. “Oh - thanks. That’s sweet of you. I have been climbing the walls a little.”
Shepard shrugged it off before she did something embarrassing like saying she was still in love with her, “Just paying you back for the sketchbook.”
“Did you use it?”
“Yeah, a few times, before everything went to hell.”
“Maybe…you could show me, next time you visit.”
Shepard couldn’t help the cautious smile that came to her lips. “I’d like that. How’re you doing? Gave us a bit of a scare there.”
“Sore, but considering…things could be a lot worse.”
A lot worse. There’d been a terrifying moment there that Shepard had thought Ashley was dead.
“Good to hear. I read your email - have you accepted yet?”
Ash looked away. “No. I just - need to think about it some more.”
Shepard leant forward. “Should I keep my opinions to myself?”
She wouldn’t blame Ash for not wanting her career advice.
“I wouldn’t have sent you that email if I didn’t want your opinion.”
“Are you unsure because it’s not what you want or because you feel like you’re not worthy of it?”
The look on Ash’s face was contemplative. “A little bit of column a, a little bit of column b.”
Not for the first time, Shepard wished she could go back in time and kick the ass of every dumbfuck who’d made Ash feel like she wasn’t enough. She’d come so far in terms of belief in herself and her abilities, but there was still that wounded place in her.
“For the former - we’re at war, I doubt they’ll try and get you to resign your commission, but at the end of the day it’s your choice, no one else’s. Definitely not Udina’s. For the latter…you were one of the finest Marines I’ve ever met three years ago, and you’ve just gotten better.”
There was a look in Ash’s whiskey-brown eyes she couldn’t quite read. “Thanks. That means a lot.”
She shrugged. “It’s true.”
“Have you heard about any of the SR1 crew?”
“Just picked up Vakarian’s bony ass from Menae…” She filled her in on their friends she’d located thus far.
It was a pleasant conversation, far from the ugliness of their past arguments, even if they were steering well clear of the topic of their previous relationship.
They’d been friends first. They could be again. Then, at least, Shepard could watch her back.
She just had to convince her reckless, uncooperative heart of that.
Shepard swirled her drink around, studying the dark brown liquid. The bar was quiet and she’d gotten more than a few pitying glances from aliens at her Alliance uniform. She had another long list of things to do after returning to the Citadel, and before she could visit the hospital.
A pity this was one of those things.
She’d protested, when Hackett had told her who he wanted as her legal advisor, before grudgingly agreeing to at least talk to him before she requested someone else.
At least Castillo would be joining them.
She sighed and took a sip, enjoying the burn of the whiskey.
"Commander Shepard?"
A man stood to her left, wearing a Navy service uniform. He'd left Earth without so much as a seabag - nothing but the clothes on his back. A week had given him time to rustle up some clothes and personals, but they still weren't broken in yet.
Commander Vogt gestured to the seat to her left. "May I?"
“Sure.” she gestured at the seat opposite her. There were new bars on her collar, and the gold star of command back on her front pocket. Welcome back to the Navy and all its trappings, indeed.
Vogt noticed the new rank and cocked a brow as he sat. "Sorry. Captain Shepard, I should say."
The bartender, a turian, wandered over. "Another of what she's having please."
“Thanks.” She took another sip. The turian returned with a glass and a bottle of whiskey. “Leave the bottle, thanks. So.”
Vogt took his glass and drew from it. He grimaced, sucking air through his teeth. "So…"
He rolled the drink through his hand, staring down at it. "I might… be reassigned."
Shepard rolled her glass between her palms. “Hackett thinks you’re the best candidate for the position of legal advisor on the Normandy. On paper, I agree with him.”
Vogt was one of the more senior JAGs still alive and available. He was good at his job. His qualifications and experience on a Hastings class frigate made him uniquely suited for the Normandy. He had experience dealing with other species from two years secondment to the Diplomatic Corps and three assigned as the legal advisor to the Citadel garrison’s commander.
There was just the whole thing where he’d convicted her of numerous crimes and dragged her name through the mud doing it.
Vogt huffed, somewhere between a chuckle and a sigh. "Sounds like the start to a shitty joke, doesn't it?" He remarked, taking a second, much longer drink until his glass was empty.
"A JAG and a war criminal walk into a bar…"
She finished her drink and poured them both another drink. “Exactly. You’re very accomplished, I can’t deny that, but…”
"We disagree on your… history." Vogt made the strange sound again. "I was on my way up," he said, rather bitterly. "Had…" He paused to take another draught and waved his hand in front of his face, "everything not happened. I would have been Captain and a department head next year. Commodore within five. And then either to the bench or Admiralty soon enough. And now…"
“You’re being asked to take orders from someone you consider a murderer,” Shepard said dryly.
"Not to be a stickler, but I had you found proven to be a murderer by a jury of your peers."
She smiled thinly and took a sip of her drink. She’d lied on the stand to protect Hackett and the Alliance. “I did my duty to the Alliance. That’s why Hackett had me pardoned. I’m his...weapon against the Reapers, with what’s in my head from the Protheans.”
And the fact she’d proven that she’d pay any price to stop the Reapers. She wasn’t sure the woman she’d been before Alchera would have thought herself capable of Bahak.
“What happened in Bahak was an atrocity,” she stated - because it was true. “But they were collateral damage.” Three hundred thousand lives for a couple of dead Reaper scouts and six more months to prepare. “It’s possible such measures will be taken again.”
Vogt had made her life hell for six months but she realised that the man was genuinely interested in justice. She wasn’t sure how much room the Reapers would leave for justice in this war.
Would that break him?
With the way he looked into the depths of his drink, it seemed that he was considering that. After a few moments, "I hope not," he said sincerely. "I don't think I ever thought you were delusional… But I never thought you were right."
She sighed heavily. “I wanted to be wrong. I’d rather spend the rest of my life in prison than -” Arcturus was gone. The one place she’d always returned to was wreckage floating between stars. How many friends had she lost in that battle? “I’ve been preparing for this war since I first spoke to Sovereign. It still doesn’t feel quite real.”
"If nothing else…" He raised the glass, to clink against hers. "I can drink to that."
She drank. “I’ll be blunt, Commander. If you can’t take orders from me and at least pretend to respect me in front of others, this won’t work. No matter how qualified you are.”
That seemed a tough pill to swallow, but it went down with the whiskey. "Yes ma'am." Vogt pushed the glass away from him and properly looked at Shepard. "I respect the Navy and I respect the process."
For a moment, he looked lost, rocking his head from side to side. "I regret that we live in a galaxy where this - any of this - is necessary. But everything I believe in… principles… None of it means anything if we end up… gone. Captain."
She nodded slowly. “I do expect you to speak your mind behind closed doors. Contrary to what you might think, I don’t have any room for sycophants on my ship.”
"The only way to run a warship in my experience." As limited as it may be. "You would never find me undermining a superior officer. But I won't be a yes-man either." Then, strangely, he smiled. "I think, more than anything, I would like for us to not die."
She laughed at that. “On that we can agree.” She sobered. “We’re leaving the Citadel tomorrow, as soon as the crew and supplies are embarked. Will you be ready to go?”
Slowly, Commander Vogt nodded. "Yes ma'am. Luckily, I don't have too much to bring with me." But his face was mournful. "I… didn't have the opportunity to bring anything with me. When we fled." Vogt topped his glass with the bottle, and downed the whole thing.
"And whatever else I feel, you can be assured that I'll be ready to make weigh."
“The XO is Commander Gema Wulandri. I’ll have her put you on the OOD rotation.” He’d handled the ship well during the Mars mission and Gema would handle him.
"Aye, aye… And thank you." That at least seemed genuine. "Until tomorrow, Captain. We'll talk again soon I'm sure. Anything else?"
“Nothing more.”
Codex
Service Record - Lieutenant Steven Cortez:
---SADF database search version---
Service Number: 5724-HT-2434
Name: Cortez, Steven
Rank: Flight Lieutenant
DOB: 7/7/2154
Place of Origin: New York, UNAS
Nationality: American
Language Proficiency: Spanish - native, English - native
Marital Status: Widowed.
Next of Kin: Robert Cortez (deceased).
Status: active duty MVC: F7, C4 Biotic: N
Service Record:
Graduated Systems Alliance Naval Academy, 2176
Commissioned as Ensign, Systems Alliance Navy Aviation Corps, 2176
Assigned to Basic Flight School, Arcturus Naval Base, 2176
Promoted to Sub-Lieutenant, 2178
Graduated Basic Flight School, 2178
Assigned to Fleet Replacement Squadron 5 (Fighter) as Replacement Pilot, 2178
Qualified on F-61 Trident fighter, 2178
Assigned to DSF-19, CAW-15 aboard SSV Stephen Hawking, 2178
Participated in Operation Herring, 2179
Awarded Combat Action Ribbon, 2179
Awarded Air Medal, 2179
Promoted to Lieutenant, 2180
Transferred to DSF-20, CAW-4 on Elysium as Fighter Leader, 2181
Awarded Naval Commendation Medal, 2182
Transferred to Fleet Replacement Squad 10 (Light Shuttle) as Replacement Pilot, 2183
Qualified on UT-47 Kodiak shuttle, 2183
Transferred to DLS-45, Aviation Combat Element, Marine Expeditionary Brigade 16, aboard SSV Benjamin Davis, 2183
Participated in Hong Offensive, 2183
Awarded Air Medal, 2183
Awarded Eden Prime War Medal, 2183
Transferred to CSB-1 as assistant air officer on Ferris Fields, 2184
Transferred to SSV Normandy as air officer, 2186
Chapter 13: Carrot and Stick
Chapter Text
PART THREE: THE SUMMIT
“Take diplomacy out of war and the thing would fall flat in a week.”
-Will Rogers
Part of Shepard had hoped that when the Reapers came, people would finally start working together, put aside old grudges in the name of everyone not dying horribly. But she knew, as the hologram of the asari Councillor winked out, she’d been wrong. Fear had just made all too many stupid and selfish.
She turned on her heel and headed for her cabin, deep in thought. The turians were the real ‘prize’ as far as the Alliance was concerned and Hackett’s orders had been clear - do whatever it took to get this alliance across the line - but the asari pulling out just made them even more dependent on getting turian support. She’d read the reports. They needed logistical support and soon, or the rest of Alliance space would follow Earth with barely a fight.
“EDI, can you please send up Commander Vogt and Mr Castillo?” Shepard asked as she stepped through the door of her cabin, running a hand through her hair. She hadn’t had a chance to really even talk to Castillo since the two lawyers had come back aboard, but now seemed the best time.
She just needed a moment to get over the urge to hit her head against the wall courtesy of her conversation with Councillor Tevos. How were the asari being even less reasonable than the salarians over this?
“Of course, Captain.”
The two lawyers didn't take long to arrive. Their office was a cramped wardroom, and the look on Castillo's face was one of relief to be out of the tiny compartment. Vogt didn't look too bothered - just tired.
The pair of them wore utility uniforms, with Castillo's nametape crooked and hastily stitched on. Despite it all, Castillo was cheery.
"Morning, Captain."
"Morning ma'am," Vogt echoed, a little stiffly. It was still uncomfortable.
“Good to see you both,” she said politely and not entirely sincerely, “I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you when you came aboard, Castillo.” That she did mean.
"Not at all, not at all." Castillo waved his hand in front of his face. "You're busy, I understand."
"I've been showing him around. Familiarising him with the ship. How things are done in the Navy."
"Yes, and Commander Vogt's been keeping me busy." Castillo was quite enthusiastic. He'd never been one to shy away from hard work if his career was any indication, but the Navy was new to him.
“Apologies for the lack of space. Frigates are pretty cramped. Take a seat, please.”
She’d set up her desk so she could at least use her cabin as an office. It still felt like a ridiculous extravagance.
They both did, finding a chair opposite Shepard. "It's not what I'm used to," Castillo agreed. "But a lot of that pomp is unnecessary anyway."
"My office didn't even have a window, on Arcturus. More headroom though." With the joke, Vogt smiled. At least he was making an effort.
She tapped her fingers against the desk. “I’m afraid I have to start with bad news. The asari have pulled out of the summit.”
Vogt sighed. "For fuck's sake."
"I'm not at all surprised," the Spainard said. "They've always been self-interested and, at this stage, they feel they're not involved in the conflict."
"The commandos are going to be no match for a sustained Reaper assault. An inevitable sustained Reaper assault."
Castillo shrugged. "Probably. But that's not our problem. The way I see it, we have two options. We can either try and find a way to get them back in, or we can spend our energy on the turians and salarians."
“Tevos is stubborn - and afraid. I leaned on her as hard as I could but she didn’t budge. The turians are in if we can get the krogan onboard, and Wrex…he’ll be reasonable, he’s just gonna posture a bit first. It’s the salarians I’m most concerned about.”
The Republics would hide in their own space until the Reapers came for them, and then no one would be able to come to their aid.
"Their usual tactics won't work on an enemy like this." Vogt stroked his chin, rubbing his fingers against the stubble. "They're going to be uncomfortable."
"And they hate the krogan more than the krogan hate the turians. I'm… not confident that we'll be able to get their support."
“Then we need leverage,” Shepard said grimly, “because what Wrex wants - the salarians have the best chance of giving.”
Castillo seemed to understand, but Vogt had a puzzled look. "What does Wrex want?"
“He wants a cure for the genophage. Always has.”
Vogt was silent for a moment. "In the middle of a war? Is he insane? If that's even on the table, the salarians won't give us anything." He sucked air through his teeth. "Besides. A cure could be decades away."
“It’s not,” she said, carefully. “There was a salarian who came very close to a cure last year. I didn’t tell Wrex but I believe he knows.”
Before Mordin had splattered his brains against a wall. But the data survived.
Silence again fell. After a few long moments, Castillo spoke. "Okay," he said slowly. "So we can get the krogan on board with a potential cure with the help of the salarians. The turian will follow if we get the krogan. What do we have that the salarians need?"
"Not ships."
“Their military is fragile,” Shepard offered, “they’re not designed for peer-to-peer combat. They need our or turian troops. But leveraging that means…well, threatening to just let them get killed by the Reapers.”
"Do we have any idea what Hackett and Victus could spare?"
“Right now? Not much. But, we’re not trying to defend the Local Cluster so that frees up several fleets at this point. What the turians can spare will hinge on getting the krogan onboard."
Vogt nodded. "Well… We have a sensible plan of attack, then. Maybe we should simply consider a back-up for the krogan. Would they go for anything that's not a cure?"
“Getting rid of the DMZ, ships, planets? If we want them to be an effective fighting force, military advisors might be a good idea anyway.” The krogan were tough, but in war, disciplined militaries with functioning logistics systems won the day.
"I worry about providing planets, given their… history," Vogt opined. "But it's your call ma'am. And Victus'."
“Do you two have any suggestions for me?”
"The turians are our closest allies." Castillo held his hands close together. "My suggestion would be to get them on the same page before we sit down with the salarians and the krogan. We know what they want and vice versa. The fewer unknowns we have in that room, the better."
Vogt nodded sagely. "A united front. Even if the salarians don't know it."
“Victus is - sympathetic, and he’s a general. He sees the writing on the wall. I’ll talk with him.”
"Good idea. Well, if there's nothing else, Castillo and I will start working on a detailed proposal for the krogan and the salarians. I'll… keep the potential cure in mind."
“Thanks. Here’s hoping the dalatrass will see sense.” She leaned back in her chair, scratching her cheek and wincing when she caught one of the scars.
Castillo chuckled. "Stranger things have happened."
“I still can’t believe we’re on the Normandy,” Lance Corporal Bai Liao enthused, lying back on her ‘bunk’ which was really just a stretcher. Liao was twenty-two and beautiful, with a dozen admirers throughout Alpha Company, all of whom she had absolutely no interest in.
Sergeant Rāhera Hohepa hid her smile, looking down at the wood she was slowly whittling into a horse for her daughter. Kaewa loved horses, to the point she’d had taken to running around and neighing like she was a horse, while she and Nikau tried not to laugh.
She was going to see them again and when she did, she’d give Kaewa this.
"So,” the burly Corporal Schaper said in his accented burr. "This is the yacht."
Schaper was built like a truck, with a jawline to break rocks on, and until they’d arrived on the Normandy, he’d been acting squad leader while Hohepa was acting platoon sergeant.
The Normandy certainly was cramped aside from the civilian comforts of unusually large viewports and large captain’s cabin, with the Marines more or less camping out on the aft cargo bay. It was still more comfortable than being in the field. They even got hot food.
“Come on,” Liao complained.
Her best friend, Corporal Li, whose similar name had caused Hohepa no small amount of paperwork issues, rolled her eyes.
A pair of Marines sat cross legged next to their racks, a deck of cards split between the floor and their hands. One of them, a black twenty-year-old from the eastern UNAS, PFC Eric Watts piped up. "The amenities are much nicer than the other crap we normally have to put up with." He handed a card over to his partner.
"Cheers Watts," was the reply. PFC Alex Dressler, a chipper Australian with dirty blonde hair and a goofy smile, was currently beating Watts at Go Fish. "And you have to admit, Corp, we're on the most legendary ship in the Navy. Seven?"
"Go Fish."
“If you count the first one, yeah. Though... Normandy ain't a great name for my German ass." Schaper humoured drily.
“Same captain, though,” Liao pointed out.
"Yeah, potato tomato," Dressler replied.
"It's 'po-tay-to, po-tah-to', idiot. Four?"
Dressler begrudgingly handed Watts a card. "Still. We're going to be in the thick of it on the ground - but we'll be safe in space. Which is the worst part."
“I don’t particularly enjoy being shelled when I’m trying to sleep, Dressler,” Hohepa observed, not looking up from her carving. “Enjoy the amenities while we’ve got them.”
"It's just the noise that'll get ya."
Watts cocked a brow, throwing his cards at Dressler's face. "And not the screaming, hot shrapnel?"
Lance Corporal Klein sighed from where he was doing sit ups, sweat gleaming on his face and bare chest. He was a PT stud and due for corporal soon and Hohepa wasn’t looking forward to losing him to another squad.
“Dressler, I’m starting to worry you’re a little insane,” he said.
“Good thing he just carries your heatsinks for you,” Li replied. Hohepa noted the way the corporal was blatantly checking Klein out, but she didn’t think Li was stupid enough to do anything more than window shop.
"I think you want your assistant MG to be a little insane," Dressler offered. He pushed the pile of cards off his lap and dropped to a knee in front of Klein, looking him in the eyes. "I'll run through a hail of gunfire for you! I'll cross any distance, any obstacle to make sure you have a heatsink!"
“Dressler’s right. Easier to carry if you travel light to begin with.” Schaper quipped with a twinkling eye.
Klein laughed and shoved him. “Oh, it’s just the billet, huh?”
"Exactly right!" Dressler fell backwards with a laugh.
"And this guy watches our back…" As he collected the cards and put them away, Watts chuckled.
“He’s your best friend,” Klein ribbed.
The door opened and Second Lieutenant Beaumont walked in, running a hand through straw-coloured hair. Beaumont had barely been an officer for five months and he hadn’t seen combat yet, which worried Hohepa quietly.
To be fair, there was a decent handful of the platoon that hadn’t, but cherries could be handled by their NCOs. A cherry officer could do a lot more damage if they couldn’t handle combat.
“Sir.” she rose to her feet, putting down her knife and half-finished carving.
“Captain Shepard wants to talk to you all,” Beaumont said, he broke off and glared at Klein. It was kind of like being glared at by a labrador puppy. “Klein, put a shirt on.”
“Aye sir,” Klein said easily, rising to his feet and pulling on his grey Marine Corps shirt, tucking it back into his belt.
"Ooh, a rousing speech from the Hero of Illyria! Where does she want us, sir?” Dressler, playing squad clown as usual.
“Here’s fine.” Beaumont looked nervous.
Hohepa rose to her feet. Shepard had previously spoken with Hohepa and Beaumont alone, wanting their honest opinions on the Marine Detachment. “No sass, Dressler.”
Dressler looked almost disappointed. “Aye, aye…” He approached Watts and helped him to his feet.
“Do you know what she wants with us, sir?”
That was answered when the door opened again and Captain Shepard stepped through.
“Captain on deck,” Beaumont called and the Marines came to attention.
“At ease,” Shepard said with a wave of her hand. The scars, glowing dully, were a little unnerving, Hohepa decided. “I wanted to introduce myself properly to you jarheads before we drop together. Welcome aboard the Normandy. It’s good to have Marines aboard again. I’m not gonna make you stand here for twenty minutes while I go on - you know what we’re fighting for and I remember being a lance - but if you have any questions for me, I’m happy to take them now.”
“I have one, ma’am.” Dressler shot a glance towards Hohepa - he seemed hesitant. “Is everything about the Reapers… true? They’ve been doing this for billions of years?”
Shepard frowned slightly, considering, “I don’t know for how long, but I do know they were responsible for destroying the Protheans. But we have an advantage that everyone else before us didn’t - we knew they were coming, and I can’t talk of specifics but I can tell you that Hackett has countermeasures under development.”
Dressler nodded. They were a scary enemy. Horrifying, really. Beyond anything that any of the council races had ever experienced. The closest had been the rachni - but at least they could be understood. Animalistic urges to reproduce, spread, consume. The Reapers… They defied comprehension.
“Are we going to get priority for equipment and resupplies from the Navy?” That was Watts, being pragmatic.
“Yes, though supply chains are fucked up enough that that doesn’t always mean we get everything we want,” Shepard nodded, “but I can get some stuff through the Spectre office. If there’s something you guys want and can’t get through normal routes, let Vega or Cortez know and we’ll see what we can do.”
Watts uttered a small "Yes! Spectre gear!"
Shepard smiled at his enthusiasm. “You’re the platoon marksman, right, PFC Watts? I got my old marksman a M-99 Saber. Want one?”
Watts mouth was agape. "My God, yes I want one!"
Shepard laughed at that. “Alright. I’ll get one for you. Any other questions?”
The Marines looked amongst each other, no one seeming to make any other requests of their new commander.
After a moment of silence, Dressler offered one remark. "Ma'am… It's an honour to be assigned to your ship."
“It’s good to have you guys here. We’re gonna be dropping into some hot zones, so if there’s anything you’re unsure of, anything you wanna brush your training up on, you let Vega know. No shame in it. Rah?”
"Rah!"
That was, Hohepa thought with some amusement, the first time she’d heard this squad of Marines unironically and enthusiastically saying ‘rah’.
With a mostly full crew and two diplomatic delegations, the Normandy was starting to feel decidedly cramped. It was probably inevitable that eventually that at some point members of the disparate factions aboard would come to blows.
Electrician’s Mate First Class Karjalainen had even started a betting pool. Most of those participating had bet on a fight between one of Wrex’s warriors and one of the turian soldiers.
They were half right.
The turians were unable to eat the provisions the Normandy’s cooks made, so most of them were subsisting of Hierarchy rations, handed out by one of the Supply Department servicemen in the mess.
“Can’t cook, can’t fight,” one of the turians muttered to another. He was a tall, tan-plated turian with the unfamiliar markings of Hierarchy rank and tier on his collar. “What are we even doing here?”
The other turian, a female officer who’d spent most of her time down on the flight deck asking Cortez questions about his bird, flicked her mandibles. “They can fight, Javius.”
“And yet, they lost their homeworld in what, ten hours? While we’re still fighting and bleeding on Palaven? And now they expect us to come in and save them. Typical.”
There was a clatter of metal against metal and a heavy clunking of boots as one of the Marines nearby, crammed onto a table with his team, hastily abandoned his food. Dressler was no more than three steps from the turian and placed a hand on his shoulder to spin him around.
"What did you just fucking say? Can't cook, can't fight? We need you to save us?"
The turian flared his mandibles, his tone mocking, “You heard me. What good are you in an alliance if you can’t hold your own homeworld?”
Corporal Schaper cleared his throat.
“This ain’t a cruise ship, princess, and you’re here as guests.” The German Marine leaned over to look the turian in the eyes. “You guys have a millenia’s headstart on us… We’re all getting fucking mauled out here.” Pieter’s jaw tightened. “You’re embarrassing yourself Sergeant.”
The turian officer, Captain Isanion, stepped back, tilting her head and watching Dressler, as if curious about what he’d do. It wasn’t the way of Hierarchy Army officers to intervene in individual disputes that could be worked out with fists until it affected the unit as a whole.
For a moment, Dressler tensed with a scowl, balling a fist at his side. The Marines at his table had stopped eating and were also watching. "You think we need you? When we're done liberating all of Alliance space - much bigger than the Hierarchy by the way - we'll take Earth back before you've even made it to Cipritine. You people can't win a fair fight."
“Dressler…” Schaper warned, tensing at the tone of his PFC.
But Javius kept going. “We’re holding Palaven, we’re the ones everyone is expecting to save them,” Javius shot back, clenching his fists by his side. “We don’t need you. You’ll melt in a real fight.”
Dressler’s body relaxed. "Remember Shanxi?" Then, without warning, he threw a lightning quick jab into the side of the sergeant's jaw. "We do!"
Dressler wasn’t exactly a small man - he was six foot something, broad shouldered and had an infantry Marine’s fitness, but Sergeant Javius had a foot of height on him and plated skin to boot. It was a good hit though - Javius staggered back and then straightened, anger glinting in his pale yellow eyes, “You’ll regret that, human.”
He threw his own punch, claws tucked away, right into Dressler’s stomach. The blow took the wind out of the Marine, and he staggered back, doubling over. With the distance created though, he leapt forward, taking Javius around the midsection and dragging him to the deck.
Dressler tried to flip the turian over so he could lock his arms, but they were strong, made of wiry muscle and little fat. Javius struggled against Dressler’s grip, one elbow catching Dressler in the mouth.
They had an audience now - Marines and turians and a handful of Navy servicemen.
Li got up, a dark look on her face, and took a few steps - until the turian officer held up a hand, stopping her.
“This is between them,” Captain Isanion said firmly.
“But-”
Schaper offered a pained expression. “Not according to the UCMJ, ma’am.” He was so getting in trouble for this. Although part of him loved seeing the arschloch turian take it on the chin.
Javius finally managed to push Dressler off. He was bleeding from a cracked facial plate and he was panting. Dressler himself had a split lip. He took a step back, still frowning, staring the turian down. His tongue ran along the inside of his cheek and he spat blood. Then he charged again.
This time, he threw a left, which was blocked, but his knee came up to the turian’s midriff and he made another attempt at grappling, this time trying to get Javius into a headlock.
Taken off guard by the Marine’s aggressiveness, Javius was too slow to stop the headlock. He thrashed, trying to elbow Dressler’s middle.
Dressler let out a yelp and his grip loosened - which Javius took advantage of, turning quickly and seizing Dressler’s arm, bringing a knee into his back and locking his arm at the elbow.
“What’s going on here?” a voice rang through the mess and the next moment blue light surrounded them both and tugged them apart, sending them tumbling to the deck separately.
Javius popped up to his feet, fury painted across his plates, “How dare you-”
“I don’t think you want to finish that sentence, Sergeant,” Master Chief Kouvelis said with a look on his face that said if the turian pushed him, he’d gladly go to the mat himself, his biotic corona winking out.
Dressler was doubled over, one hand on his side, and spat another mouthful of blood. In between heaping gasps for air, he said, “He fuckin - He said we couldn’t fight. He said it wasn’t a surprise we lost Earth so quickly! Thousands are dying every day…”
Kouvelis’ expression was one of great exasperation. “We have enough enemies without fighting each other, fuckin’ idiots. PFC Dressler, report to Staff Sergeant Vega. Sergeant Javius, get the fuck out of my mess.”
“Aye, aye…” The young Marine shot a glare at the turian as he slunk away. He opened his mouth to say something, but a steely look from Li made him think better of it. “I’ll see the Staff…”
Having turian and krogan delegations aboard the Normandy had given the Alliance crew some headaches, Victus had realised early on. The Executive Officer, a short but fiery woman, had given Victus and his staff the starboard observation deck as a cabin and put the newly arrived krogan overlord and his honour guard on the engineering deck, kicking some of the engineering crew out of their quarters.
Victus could sympathise, but he was already feeling stir-crazy. There was a reason he’d elected to join the Army instead of the Navy or the Naval Infantry. The cabin was objectively one of the largest on the ship and had the sort of comforts few warships did, but it felt like the walls were pressing in around him.
Across from him, perched on one of the lounges, Major Vakarian was reading a report, his mandibles tight against his face. None of the reports were pleasant reading these days. Good news counted as taking less KIAs than expected.
Victus had already known Urdnot Wrex and Captain Shepard were friends, but it had been a surprise when the overlord had turned from greeting Shepard to clap Vakarian on the shoulder, hard enough to make him take a step back, and told him it was good to see the Reapers hadn’t killed him. His greeting to Doctor T’Soni had been no less enthusiastic, albeit gentler.
The battlefield forged strong bonds.
Victus could only hope that friendship would be a solid enough foundation for the alliance between their peoples.
Especially now the asari had withdrawn. The salarians had nearly done the same, until Victus had placed a private call to Dalatress Linron, the current leader of the Union. Salarian politics was a labyrinth of blood ties, shifting alliances and betrayals and it made his head hurt.
Linron was far from pleasant but he’d reminded her whose ships were guarding the border between his nation and hers. Threatening to withdraw and leave billions of people to die sat uneasily with him, but if he had to strongarm Linron into doing the right thing, he would.
There was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Victus called, and Shepard stepped inside, dressed in her dress whites and her medals gleaming on her chest, the Star of Terra at her throat. “Ah, good evening, Captain.”
“Primarch Victus. I wanted to let you know we’ve entered the Pranas System and will be rendezvousing with the salarian ship shortly.”
“Good. Time to get this summit over with and get back to fighting the war.”
“Here’s hoping.” Shepard paused. “There was an altercation between one of your men and one of my Marines. The Marine has been dealt with by his platoon sergeant, but you have my apologies, Primarch.”
That had to explain the story a very puzzled Lieutenant Kenatarius had told him about an Alliance Marine scrubbing the Normandy’s flight deck with a toothbrush.
“Captain Isanion informed me, Captain, and said Sergeant Javius was provoking your crew and suffered the expected consequences,” V ictus replied. He noted the way Shepard’s eyes kept sliding past him to the open viewing port. He made a note to himself to try and make sure it was closed next time they spoke. “As far as I’m concerned, the matter is settled.”
Shepard blinked and then nodded. “Good. As for what we discussed earlier…”
“You will have your ‘united front’, Captain.”
“Thank you.”
“Shepard,” the ship’s AI - and that had been something of a shock, but Shepard defended the machine like a mother shatha - spoke over the intercom, “Dalatress Linron and her delegation are requesting permission to come aboard.”
“Permission granted. Shall we?”
“After you.”
Codex Entry
SSV Normandy SR-2 Marine Detachment:
2nd Platoon, Alpha Company, 2/50th Marines onboard SSV Normandy
c/s ‘Ranger’
Platoon Leader: Second Lieutenant Jacques Beaumont
Platoon Sergeant: Staff Sergeant James Vega
Platoon Medic: Chief Hospitalman Nataliya Kovalenko
1st Squad
Sergeant Aislinn O’Neal
Corporal Saif Hakim
Lance Corporal Silvia Araullo
Lance Corporal Adnan Macar
Private First Class Walasma Garane
Corporal Aria Leach
Lance Corporal Sandra Pandev
Private First Class Bazyli Rusnak
Lance Corporal Sophia Demetriou
2nd Squad
Sergeant Rāhera Hohepa
Corporal Pieter Schaper
Lance Corporal Stefan Klein
Private First Class Alex Dressler
Private First Class Neves Meideros
Corporal Li Xiang
Lance Corporal Liao Bai
Lance Corporal Marcus Adamsen
Private First Class Eric Watts
3rd Squad
Sergeant Ren Tsukura
Corporal Samuel Cohen
Lance Corporal Jirair Gevorgian
Lance Corporal Michelle Tham
Lance Corporal Châu Ngo
Corporal Jamie Grieve
Lance Corporal Reena Darzi
Private First Class Takuma Yamauchi
Private First Class Michael Andrews
Chapter 14: The Last Best Hope
Notes:
You might see some major differences with Padok Wiks' dialogue. It's because he's a great character but 'finding the guiding principle of evolution' is a dumb thing for any scientist let alone a biologist to say.
Chapter Text
“So…the salarians are just gonna give us the krogan they’ve been holding?” Vega asked, following Shepard through the cargo bay. They were both armoured, helmets tucked under their arms, the red stripe gleaming on Shepard’s arm.
For a long time, all Vega had truly wanted was that stripe. Then Fehl Prime had happened and he’s tossed his chance at it away.
He moved his jaw experimentally, feeling the bruises Shepard had left behind. She’d taken his cockiness and his usual surety of being the biggest, strongest guy in any fight with another human, and kicked his ass. Put him on the ground and accused him of blaming himself for something he wasn’t responsible for.
Taken his flash of anger without a flinch. Told him we make the best decisions we can on the information we have at the time. You made the right choice for what you knew.
Then she’d found ice for his face and they’d sat and talked for a while. He’d told her about his team, how it’d hurt a little when Milque hadn’t wanted to stay in contact after the funerals.
Shepard nodded, an intent expression on her face. A predator going hunting. “That’s the idea.”
“And we trust them?”
“The Union government? Absolutely not,” she smiled without it reaching her eyes, “but I trust that the dalatrass is taking Victus’ threat seriously.”
I will be the last friendly turian you ever see. Even mauled, the threat of the Hierarchy being their enemy had frightened Dalatrass Linron and cowed her into cooperation. Though she’d gotten her last shots off at Shepard. It had taken a lot for Vega to remain the silent, dutiful guard.
“Roger.” So be ready just in case there was trouble when a Spectre showed up with a krogan clan chief.
“Lieutenant Beaumont!” Shepard called as they walked towards the shuttle.
The blond lieutenant looked up from a datapad, stiffening almost painfully. Kid really did need to work that stick outta his ass. “Ma’am?”
Vega got it, though. Beaumont was barely out of infantry officer training and now he was the Hero of the Citadel’s MARDET commander. That’d terrify most butterbars. He was handling it alright, considering. Vega might just have to hold his hand for a while.
“Have your Marines suited up and standing by in the shuttle bay.”
There was a question in his eyes, but to his credit, he didn’t voice it. “...aye aye, ma’am.”
Doctor Liara T’Soni and Major Garrus Vakarian were waiting by the shuttle, armed and armoured. The shuttle was humming - Cortez was already going through his checklist.
“Just waiting on Wrex?” Shepard asked.
T’Soni nodded. “Cortez has received clearance from Sur’Kesh officials to enter atmosphere.”
Whatever Shepard was going to say was cut off by the arrival of Urdnot Wrex. God, he really was a big guy.
“This is the salarian homeworld and they’re gonna be nervy with krogan around,” Shepard said, gaze steady on Wrex, “let’s get in, get the krogan women, and get out before they have too much time to think about it.”
“I still don’t trust that dalatrass,” Wrex said, hands like shovels lingering near his huge krogan shotgun.
“Neither do I, Wrex. But I’m gonna do everything I can to get your people out.”
Something actually softened in Wrex’s red gaze. “I know. These women are the best and possibly last hope for my people’s future. If anything goes wrong…”
James had heard a fair bit about Urdnot Wrex and Shepard’s friendship the past week, like it was the Hail Mary the Alliance was betting on. Now he could see it, in the way they looked at each other with respect and affection, despite the diplomatic games being played.
“We’ll bring them back, Wrex. Don’t worry,” T’Soni said, actually putting a hand on the huge krogan’s shoulder.
“I appreciate that, Liara. I wouldn’t want anyone else along for the ride.”
Vakarian coughed loudly.
Wrex chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound. “I suppose I can make room for you too, Garrus.”
“Figured you’d gone soft sitting on that throne of yours,” Vakarian shot back, supremely confident for a turian within grabbing distance of a krogan warlord, “Forgot how to use a gun.”
“Don’t worry, Garrus, you can still hide behind me and Shepard when they start shooting,” Wrex retorted.
“I don’t-” Vakarian began, indignantly.
Shepard cut them off. “No one start any shooting, please.”
So Vega was playing fifth wheel.
“I remember you being more fun,” Wrex complained, following her onto the shuttle.
Shepard ignored him.
Vega stepped up and into the Kodiak. Wrex’s bulk made it a little squishy - he edged over so he was closer to the cockpit.
“Yo, Esteban.”
The pilot gave him a lazy wave from behind his instruments.
“We’re cleared for salarian airspace?” Shepard asked.
“Down to STG Base Yeohr, yes ma’am. We haven’t been given landing clearance yet.”
She nodded. “Let’s hope they’re not playing any games.”
“They better not be,” Wrex growled.
“Let this play out,” Shepard said soothingly.
Ten minutes later, the Kodiak was skimming above the rainforest-covered mountains of Sur’Kesh. Waterfalls cascaded down green-edged cliffs, rock spires reaching towards the sky. It was beautiful, and Vega shifted to get a good look at the feeds from the external cameras.
Wrex huffed. “No wonder salarians are so soft. Too busy writing poetry about waterfalls.”
“Ma’am?” There was a hint of anxiety in Esteban’s voice that made Vega frown and lean forward. He could only see the back of Cortez’s dark-haired head and the glow of his fight controls.
“What is it, Cortez?” Shepard asked.
“I’m seeing a lot of movement on ladar. Looks like the salarian defence fleet is moving.”
“Where?”
“Out of orbit, ma’am.”
Vega watched a calculated look cross Shepard’s face before she leaned back in her seat and she keyed her comm. “Overlord, this is Ranger.”
“Ranger, Overlord,” Wulandri’s voice over the comm channel between the ground team and the ship.
“Something’s got the salarians riled up. Take no action at this time, but keep an eye out and the weapons partially manned, over.”
“Roger that.”
“Ranger out.” She leaned forward, “Cortez, stay on course.”
“Aye ma’am. Coming into visual range of the STG base now.”
STG Base Yeohr was a handful of silver-white, pyramid-like buildings clinging to the mountainside, fog hanging over it. He noted AA guns and sentries, as well as a salarian gunship that fell in to escort them.
Cortez pulled the shuttle’s nose up, coming into a hover above the shuttle pad. “Ma’am, they’re still saying we don’t have clearance to land at the base.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Shepard complained, “get me a line to the dalatrass’ people-”
“I knew they’d never keep their word,” Wrex got to his feet and hit the latch of the shuttle door. It folded it out with a rush of roaring wind.
“Wrex-” Shepard whirled.
The krogan overlord jumped out of the shuttle.
“Mierda,” Shepard said, but then she took a few running steps and jumped out after him.
“Our friends are crazy,” Garrus told Liara matter-of-factly.
The asari sighed. “Come on, you two. I’ll help you down.”
Helping them down apparently meant gently floating them down the six metres between the shuttle and the ground, biotic blue wrapping around Vega’s body. Huh. Kinda tingled. Liara set both men down behind Shepard and then gracefully alighted behind them, biotics winking out.
A handful of salarians were facing them, weapons aimed at Wrex who was baring his teeth, biotic corona pulsing aggressively around him.
Shepard stepped forward, in between Wrex and the salarians - and the huge krogan let her - and started yelling about how the dalatrass had authorised the transfer, that they were insulting the Alliance and the Council, like her bravery made her bulletproof. Vega watched the guns pointed at his commanding officer’s chest, remembering Anderson’s orders to keep her alive, and grit his teeth against the urge to reach for his own weapon.
An STG soldier pushed his way to the front - an officer, maybe, by the way the others let him through and listened when he yelled for weapons to be lowered. “Captain Shepard, restrain your colleague! We were waiting on orders-”
“Pointing guns at us doesn’t seem like a good start to our friendship,” Shepard said dryly. “You are?”
“Captain Padok Wiks, STG. My apologies on behalf of the Salarian Union. We were only told of the transfer a few minutes ago.”
Almost like the Dalatrass was trying to set up a diplomatic incident or something.
“I will take you down below to conduct the transfer, Spectre Shepard, but we must insist the krogan remain here, under guard.”
Wrex made an angry noise, red eyes gleaming. Shepard crossed her arms, looking just as unhappy.
“‘The krogan’ is Urdnot Wrex, Chief of Clan Urdnot, King of Tuchanka and Overlord of the Thousand Clans.”
“I’m afraid we must insist, Captain. With war on everyone’s mind, people are on edge.”
“I‘ll stay,” Wrex said, speaking to Shepard, as if the salarians were beneath his notice. “But if anything goes wrong, all bets are off.”
“Roger that,” Shepard raised an eyebrow under her visor, and then waved for Vega, Liara and Garrus to follow as she fell into lockstep with Padok Wiks.
The air was thick with humidity and the sound of falling water from the nearby waterfall, and Shepard was already sweating underneath her armour. Planets. Rain and bugs and variable temperatures. Ugh.
And there was this situation with the salarian fleet and patrols leaving the base. She had the feeling Linron would prove to be a dangerous enemy. But was she ruthless enough to sell her own people out as well as Shepard?
“I’ll accompany you down below, Captain,” Wiks said.
“Tight security,” she observed.
“This base contains very sensitive research,” he replied, “Science has always been my people’s best defence. Work done here has protected the Union.”
“Work including kidnapped krogan, apparently.”
“The females were in poor health when we found them on Tuchanka,” he defended, “they were brought here to stabilise their condition.”
“And I wonder how much of a choice they had in that,” she said dryly. It sat very wrong with her how these women were and had been treated - as bargaining chips instead of people. Even if Shepard herself had to do the same to save her own species.
Even if she was kicking herself for not questioning Maelon further, making sure he didn’t still have captives. She’d seen bodies but no living test subjects, but very clearly some had survived.
“If we hadn’t, it is likely they would be dead, and what you hope to achieve would be impossible, at least in my lifetime.”
She let it go for now. Needling Wiks was more her venting her unease over the whole situation, and he seemed reasonable. “I’m guessing this exchange isn’t exactly popular amongst the STG.”
“Many are concerned, yes,” he spread his hands, “but I differ from most of my colleagues. Curing the genophage will bring closure to this issue. Who can say what role the krogan might play in the future? No species is static. We cannot quantify the consequences of our actions should we refuse them the very chance to evolve and change.”
“Sounds almost spiritual.”
He smiled. “No, no. Scientific. I am a xenobiologist who previously worked on my government’s uplifting program. I have studied the process of evolution in sapient and pre-sapient species. As well as the consequences when we interfere.”
“Don’t play God?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Evolution cannot be compared to an intelligent, god-like power. Evolution has no goal or intention. But we do, and the consequences of our actions and their intentions ring through history. My people uplifted the krogan to save ourselves - we taught them modern warfare before their society had time to process the changes we forced on them. The Krogan Rebellions, the current state of krogan civilisation - these were unforeseen consequences with grave outcomes.”
A conversation with a STG agent on the ethics of uplifting hadn’t exactly been what she was expecting. “I can see your point.”
His laugh was wry. “Not all of my colleagues do.”
“I can imagine.” Mordin had told her a few stories about how vigorous salarian scientific discussions could get. It sometimes involved thrown punches, apparently.
“Captain Shepard!” A voice cut through their conversation - a familiar and unexpected voice.
She blinked. “Captain Kirrahe?”
The STG officer grinned and reached out a hand to shake hers. “Major, now. I was promoted after Virmire.”
“Congratulations,” she said sincerely.
“Good to see a friendly face, Major,” Garrrus extended a hand and the salarian shook it.
“Garrus Vakarian - and Doctor T’Soni. It seems the Reapers have a way of bringing us together.”
That was one way to put it. She’d been meaning to email Kirrahe but had never quite got around to it. Now was a moment to tell him what she’d meant to say in that email.
“I heard of the letter you wrote in support of Lieu - Major Alenko’s Star of Terra,” he’d died a lieutenant but they’d promoted him posthumously, “and put him and Lieutenant Williams in for the Silver Dagger. Alenko was a close friend of mine. I deeply appreciate it.”
“No thanks are needed. Their actions warranted it - and I haven’t forgotten what you and your crew did to save my men.” Kirrahe paused and looked over at Padok Wiks. “I assume you’re here to take custody of the krogan.”
“That’s correct.”
“I won’t keep you then, but one day I hope to return the favour. It would be an honour to fight beside you again, Captain Shepard.”
“Likewise, Major Kirrahe.”
“You’ve been cleared for the lower labs,” Wiks said politely, “please follow me.”
Cortez drummed his fingers on his thigh. Through the tinted windscreen he could see a couple of armed salarians keeping an eye on the shuttle. He kept glancing between them and his sensors. He could see a trio of salarian gunships speeding away from the base, heading towards the nearest city, which according to his charts was Kalatatt.
According to Plex, Kalatatt was the capital of the Duchy of Kal, ruled by Dalatrass Iwane of Clan Jepan.
Salarian politics made Earth look straightforward.
Cortez winced as the shuttle shook as Wrex paced in the back, each step ringing through the Kodiak. Alliance shuttles hadn’t been designed with krogan in mind.
The footsteps stopped just outside the cockpit. “By Vaul, you humans get smaller and smaller every time I see some of you.”
“Uh,” Cortez said eloquently.
Wrex sat down in the co-pilot’s seat. It creaked ominously under his bulk. Krogan really were very big.
The commline between the Normandy, the shuttle and the ground team buzzed. “Ranger, this is Overlord.”
Cortez straightened.
Shepard responded. “Ranger copies, over.”
“The salarian fleet has engaged an unknown enemy. Overlord is holding position as ordered, over.”
“Roger. Is it the Reapers, over?”
“Unlikely. They’re not getting their asses kicked. I suspect it’s the indoctrinated batarians, over.”
“Copy. Keep an eye on things, over.”
“Wilco. I had EDI do an active scan just in case, and we detected multiple aircraft signatures inbound to your location. If our passives didn’t pick them up, it’s likely they’re using stealth tech, over.”
When Shepard’s voice came over the radio again, she sounded pissed. “Roger. We might have to bunker down and get the Marines down, over.”
Wrex grunted and leaned forward, stabbing at the transmit button before Cortez could even try to stop him (not that he thought he’d have much luck at that). “Absolutely not, Shepard. We get the females out now.”
“Only one of the women survived, Wrex, I’m sorry. But down here is fortified-”
“What?” the krogan bared his teeth, “so the salarians can kill her too? No. If you still want this alliance, you get her out of there.”
“Damnit, Wrex, you’re being a fucking pain in my ass today. Fine! She can’t be taken out of quarantine without proper procedures or she might die, so we’ll meet you up top at the following navpoint.”
“I’ll be there,” he growled.
“Ranger out.”
Cortez could appreciate Shepard’s attempt to salvage some proper radio protocol out of that conversation.
His hands darted over his controls. If the base was about to be attacked, the Kodiak would be a sitting duck on the ground. In the air, he could maybe provide some air support.
“Move,” Wrex said, suddenly looming over him.
He blinked. “What?”
“Move. I’m flying.”
“Do you even know how to fly?” burst out of him before he could stop himself.
Wrex glowered at him. “I’m over eight hundred years old. Of course I know how to fly! Now, get out of my way.”
Cortez considered his duty as an Alliance officer and commander of the aircraft. He also considered the fact that Wrex was a biotic battlemaster and had well over a foot of height and several hundred kilograms on him.
He moved.
“I’ll…get on the door gun.”
Wrex chuckled, a menacing sound. “Good idea.”
Cortez flicked his shield belt on, wishing he’d worn a hardsuit, and clipped himself into the safety line before he reached for the door. That was when Wrex hit the thrusters - hard - and threw him forward. He was very glad all of a sudden he’d put the safety line on as it caught him. He braced himself with one hand and then opened the door and reached for the door gun, tucked up against the shuttle’s roof, with the other.
Wind whistled through troop bay. Below him, Cortez saw the sullen glow of fire and thick black smoke billowing form the roof of one of the salarian buildings, staining the paradise they’d flown through barely forty minutes before.
There - a flicker of movement. White-armoured figures flooding down a pathway, advancing on a handful of dark-suited salarians. The exchanged fire cracked through the air, barely audible over the roaring of the wind.
He swivelled the door gun and squeezed the trigger, firing in bursts downwards at the Cerberus troopers, tracers streaking through the humid air. It wasn’t his best shooting, but he did see one’s shields collapse and then the man jerked with a spray of red and fell into a heap. The rest dove into cover and the salarians took advantage, firing what looked like grenade launchers into them.
Then Wrex banked the shuttle sharply and for one, dizzying and terrifying moment, Cortez stared directly down to the rushing water below, held in place by his monkey strap.
The cause of the sudden turn was quickly apparently when he glanced back. A white and orange painted gunship was pursuing them, gun chattering as Wrex twisted the Kodiak back and forth.
He couldn’t quite turn the gun back far enough to shoot at the gunship, and the Kodiak’s twin mass accelerator cannons were front mounted.
Yeah, he much preferred to be behind the controls in a dogfight. If he was in his Trident - but he wasn’t.
“Bank to starboard!” he shouted into his comm.
“What?”
“TURN LEFT!”
“Demanding little pyjack-”
But the krogan warlord listened, banking left and lining Cortez up. He pressed down on the trigger, the HMG’s rounds dashing off the gunship’s barriers.
Then the Kodiak dived abruptly, pursued by a missile. Cortez was thrown into the frame of the doorway, fumbling for a grip to stop himself from slipping more - and banging his elbow for his trouble.
Yeah, really should have worn a hardsuit for this one.
Wrex pulled up - barely - and the missile smashed into the side of a building in a gout of flame.
“This is the only Kodiak we have!”
Wrex laughed, audible over the wind.
Urdnot Bakara stepped free of the quarantine container, past Urdnot Wrex’s outstretched hand and breathed in, deeply. Tasted the thick, green air of Sur’kesh, the stench of acrid smoke and the metallic tang of blood. It had been many months since she’d been free.
Months of watching her sisters die until she was the last left.
“You dented my shuttle, Wrex,” the human Spectre complained. She barely came up to Wrex’s shoulder, but she had slaughtered her way through her enemies with a battlemaster’s skill. Even now there was a spray of drying blood across her arm. Bakara had watched as she and the asari ripped the Cerberus machine apart with their biotics.
It was good to see humans valued their women.
Running footsteps. “There! The krogan is over there!”
Shepard and her krannt reacted, raising weapons, but Bakara acted first. She ripped the shotgun from Wrex’s hands as two Cerberus troopers rounded the corner and fired through the magazine. The two men tumbled to the ground without getting a shot off, their chests caved in.
Bakara shoved the shotgun back into Wrex’s arms gruffly. “I am not helpless, Wrex.”
He needed her if he was to become the king that dragged the krogan back to glory, but she would be no pawn. She would be his equal, in war and peace.
Wrex was no fool, not that she’d let him know that, but it was important to establish she was no whelp in need of his protection.
Wrex huffed.
Shepard took a few steps towards one of the troopers. The look in her eyes under her visor was calculating. “That one’s still alive. Garrus, Vega, grab him. If Chakwas can save him, maybe we can get some intel out of him.”
The turian and the human walked over, but in the moment that the turian hooked his claws around the trooper’s arm, there was a loud, sudden bang. The two soldiers jumped back, and when the wisp of grey smoke cleared, the top of the trooper’s head was gone.
“...gross,” the male human observed, poking the corpse with the toe of his boot.
“They’ve worked on the anti-capture method,” the turian said.
“Wonderful. Alright, let’s get the fuck out of here. Coming, Mordin?”
“Yes, yes. Must get medbay set up for study. Come along, Wiks.”
Bakara stepped into the blue-painted shuttle and into whatever her future now held.
Codex
Internal Alliance Report Re Eighth Fleet:
From: Commander, Bureau of Naval Intelligence ([email protected])
To: Joint Operation Command Distribution List
Subj: Battle of the Verge
Report as follows:
The Eighth Fleet deployed to defend the colonies in the Hades Gamma Cluster and Kepler Verge, aiming to harass and delay the Reapers while evacuations were undertaken. However, this strategy proved ineffective in the face of at least ten to twelve Reaper dreadnoughts, with their speed taking the Eighth Fleet by surprise.
After the Benjamin Davis’ carrier strike group took heavy casualties during the evacuation of the mining colony of Tungel, Admiral Holloway ordered her damaged and battered ships to retreat, with the intention of rearming and repairing at Meretseger Naval Depot. However, this course of action appears to have been anticipated by the Reapers.
The Eighth Fleet was ambushed in the Kepler Verge on approach to Ontarom by a further force of Reaper dreadnoughts and has largely been destroyed as a fighting force. There are reports that some squadrons have escaped and scattered throughout the area, but the communications buoys have been destroyed, severing contact with individual ships.
It is my great sorrow to report that both the dreadnought SSV Tai Shan and carrier SSV Robert Oppenheimer have been destroyed. I have received reports are that the carrier Benjamin Davis, and the Marine Expeditionary Brigade and Naval Air Group aboard her, has survived, but this has not yet been confirmed.
We must consider the Eighth Fleet largely combat ineffective and both the Hades Gamma and Kepler Verge clusters under enemy control.
Recommendations:
- It may be worth considering disbanding the Eighth completely and amalgamating the survivors that can be extracted with another fleet.
- Given that the location of Meretseger Naval Depot, a top secret facility, was known to the Reapers and the retreat there anticipated by the enemy, we must consider the possibility of a leak within either the Eighth Fleet or, more worryingly, within NAVCOMM.
- The reports of survivors are persistent, and the chance of recovering experienced servicemen cannot be dismissed out of hand. I suggest the deployment of one to two Normandy class stealth frigates for low profile search and rescue within the occupied sectors.
- The report of the Benjamin Davis’ survival is particularly compelling. Given the value of capital vessels, and that she has some of our most experienced pilots and infantry Marines aboard, I suggest that if the Davis is located, her retrieval is a priority.
Chapter 15: Treason
Chapter Text
Mordin Solus, newly STG again, looked up at the entry of Captain Emilia Shepard into the medbay. Krogan woman, newly nicknamed ‘Eve’, sat on one of the medbay beds and watched the human with calm but wary eyes, face hidden by traditional garments of a shaman. Krogan slow to trust, but he suspected that she approved of Shepard.
“Evening, Mordin.”
“Shepard.”
“Kicked Chakwas out, huh?” she raised an eyebrow. Scarring across face bad again, dark shadows under eyes. Lack of sleep, stress? Would suggest treatment plan.
“She suggested it. Best place for Eve right now, gives me space to work.”
“Eve?”
“Real name unknown due to traditional role as shaman. From human religion ‘Christianity’ holy book mythology-”
Shepard raised a hand, smiling. “My family is Catholic, Mordin, I know the reference.”
“Past experience that religion touchy subject amongst humans, did not wish to assume. Normandy human ship, seemed appropriate.”
She nodded, glancing over at Eve before refocusing on him. Shepard had spoken with Eve briefly the previous evening after they’d all come aboard, left looking thoughtful. “Let me know if Wrex gives you anymore trouble.”
“Will look after welfare of my patient, no need to worry,” he said calmly. “Close to Citadel?”
“Yes, we should be docking soon. I’ll make sure our supply officer gets everything you requested. This cure is my top priority.”
“Grim expression, bad news?”
She scratched at her cheek, wincing when her finger brushed a scar. “ Yeah. We’ve lost another fleet. We can’t keep this up, especially without support. I know you can tell me how long this will take, but…”
“Doing my best, Shepard, promise,” he said seriously. Could understand her concern, her fear for continued existence of her people, of galaxy. More dutiful than most.
“I know, Mordin. It’s good to have you here. To have this project in the hands of someone I trust.”
“Thank you. Will not let you down.”
“I have to ask though,” she tilted her head, thoughtful look in her eyes, like always when she started digging, “before, when we talked about this, you always defended the genophage and your previous work. What changed your mind?”
Not so simple. Right decision always context-dependent. “Never changed mind. Genophage proper decision at time. New circumstances necessitate course correction.”
“Reapers,” she guessed, “and the Alliance and turians needing the krogan.”
“Yes. Reapers present unified threat, outlet for aggression.”
“So that’s all?” she raised an eyebrow, “I know Wiks is doing this for his own - philosophical - reasons, but you’re just being practical?”
He sniffed. “Wiks - adequate assistant. Growing old, Shepard, not much time left, but still best candidate. My work, my patient. Had to be me.”
“Someone else might have gotten it wrong?”
“Perhaps. But not about them.”
She nodded. “I get that. Will you stick around afterwards? I could use your help.”
“Yes - until Reapers are dealt with. After,,.long career, few years left. Might go somewhere sunny. Sit on beach, look at ocean, collect seashells.”
She laughed. “You’d go crazy in a hour, Mordin.”
True. Very active mind. “Might run tests on seashells.”
Shepard patted him on the shoulder, rare gesture of affection between them. “It is really good to have you back. Lemme know if you need anything.”
“Of course.”
“Though,” she paused, “where is Wiks?”
“Doing research.”
“They had an argument about neurotransmitters,” Eve filled in from across the room.
Shepard rolled her eyes. “Of course they did. Just no punching each other this time.”
He sniffed. “Would never.”
“Uh huh.”
“Ma’am, you might want to see this,” Communications Technician Lavi Alon spoke up, his voice cutting through the quiet bustle of the CIC.
Sam Traynor - and being called ma’am still felt weird, things had been decidedly less formal in the labs - looked up from her terminal. There was always so much to do. Who knew that running a warship’s communication and SIGINT in war would be so much work? On top of her normal duties, she’d taken the task of managing Shepard’s emails - otherwise the Captain would have no time to do anything but try to clear the four thousand emails in her inbox.
She still had to go talk to Doctor T’Soni, who was most definitely not a intel broker, not at all, about the whole ‘unauthorised’ transmissions thing. T’Soni was very beautiful but also a little terrifying,
“What is it?”
“This communique came through for the captain and uh - it’s urgent.”
Sam took the secure datapad off Lavi and scanned it.
“Oh bloody hell.”
“Yes ma’am.”
She looked up at him. “Not a word to anyone, alright?”
“Lips are sealed, ma’am.”
“EDI,” she said sweetly, even though she was still a little bit sore about the whole chess thing. In hindsight she probably should have guessed an AI could beat even a grandmaster. “Where’s Shepard?”
“Captain Shepard is currently in the engineering control room, Samantha,” EDI replied.
“Thanks.” Being on first name basis with an AI hadn’t been something she’d expected the first time she’d come aboard the Normandy in drydock, but it’d been very entertaining already.
She descended down the two decks to Engineering. They were still missing some crewmen for Engineering, despite the captain’s terse messages to Personnel Command. Good engineers and technicians were worth their weight in gold to the Alliance Navy right now. There’d already been an attempt to poach Adams.
“-you’re Alliance first, Adams, that’s the way it should be.” Captain Shepard had her hand on Lieutenant Adams’ shoulder. She dropped her hand. “Please don’t apologise for that.”
Adams ducked his head. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“And I’m sorry you had to see that,” Shepard was suddenly very serious.
“Not as sorry as I am that you had to experience it,” Adams replied, voice choked up.
“I don’t even remember it,” Shepard’s voice was even.
“Ma’am,” Adams began, uncertainly, - and Sam really needed to interrupt before it looked like she was eavesdropping.
“Sorry to interrupt, ma’am, CHENG,” she called out, walking up to them.
“What is it, Lieutenant?” Shepard asked.
“Well, ma’am - here. Urgent communication in regards to Omega.” Traynor more or less shoved the datapad at her commanding officer. Smooth, Sam, smooth.
Shepard read it with a deepening scowl. When she looked back at Sam her dark eyes were intense and focused in a way that was more thrilling than unnerving. God, but she really was an attractive woman, with those lips and those muscles.
She was also Sam’s boss and might as well have been wearing a sign that said ‘emotionally unavailable’, but that didn’t mean Sam wasn’t allowed to look.
“Who else knows?”
“On the ship? Just myself and Comms Technician Alon, ma’am. But there’s already been ships arriving on the Citadel and you have an email from Aria T’Loak.”
“Great, so it’s going to be all over the news,” Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Most likely, ma’am,” Sam agreed.
“Let Ms Wong know we’ll need to do an interview. We have to get out ahead of this. Mierda. Excuse me, Lieutenant Adams. Traynor, with me.”
As they walked back up the corridor, Shepard glanced over at her. “Wulandri said something about you not having a…toothbrush? I know a lot is messy right now with banks and even getting paid, but if you’re having troubles purchasing the essentials, let us know. You’re not alone here.”
Oh, Sam was going to kill Wulandri. “Oh it’s really alright, Captain.”
“I don’t want my officers struggling in silence, Traynor.”
“It’s just - well, my toothbrush was a Cision Pro Mark Four. It uses tiny mass effect fields to break up plaque and massage the gums,” she lowered her voice, wincing, “it costs six thousands credits.”
Shepard stared at her. “You’re fucking with me.”
Oh no. “No, no, ma’am, I-”
“Yeah, you’re on your own with that one. I could buy three rocket launchers for that price.” At least Shepard looked amused.
“In any case,” Sam said hastily, “I am very glad to be here. I wanted to thank you for that. I know I’m not the most experienced officer in the Navy in this role, but I won’t let you down.”
“You should thank EDI,” Shepard responded, opening the elevator door and stepping inside, “she made the recommendation to keep you aboard.”
“Thanks, EDI!” she said, habitually looking up.
“You’re very welcome, Samantha.”
“First name basis already?” Something about that was funny to Shepard.
“She’s very interesting to talk to - and helpful with our duties. Even if she cheats at chess.”
“How do you cheat at chess?” Shepard blinked.
“I did not,” EDI replied, and was that smugness in her artificial voice? “Lieutenant Traynor is ‘salty’.”
“Mhm. EDI, have you seen what Traynor brought me?” Shepard asked as they stepped out of the elevator and into the CIC.
“Of course, Captain. I have also been monitoring external comm channels. Several ships that fled Omega are amongst the refugee flotilla in the Serpent Nebula.”
“Wonderful,” Shepard muttered, “well, you and Joker get us into the Citadel. Traynor, organise my interview with Wong - for tomorrow, please. I need to speak to Hackett before I do the media.”
“Aye aye, ma’am.”
There was a box waiting for Shepard when she arrived at the Spectre office to organise Mordin’s lab equipment and order the release of three former Alliance servicemen being held on the Citadel (Donnelly was a loudmouth, but it’d be damned good to have Daniels and Goldstein back in Alliance uniforms). She smiled when she saw it. Thane had come through for her.
She popped the lid off. Inside were a handful of items: a M-12 Locust carbine, a long knife with a handle of red wood and varren leather, a strange and bulbous weapon made of strange chitin and a battered N7 helmet. She attached the sheath of the knife to her belt, beside her pistol holster and boxed the rest of it up to be delivered to the Normandy.
The Collector beam weapon would be damned useful against the new and terrible husk variants, and while she might stick to the new Valkyrie assault rifle for the extra stopping power, the M-12 was a damned fine gun. Might keep it around for when she needed something she could conceal.
She’d also put in requests with the Office for more intelligence on the location on the disappeared quarians (she’d tried Tali’s emails but had received no replies) and the situation on Omega.
Petrovsky.
Shepard was going to kill a motherfucker.
She’d convinced Aria to let the Alliance send troops to guard the Relay and the scientific teams studying the Collector Base. And Petrovsky had ruined all of that in a single night - launching a coup d’etat with his troops and declaring the station and his division for Cerberus. There was a video circulating on the extranet already of his speech about how the Alliance had failed, that a fuckin’ supremacist terrorist organisation was the only alternative.
He’d given the Illusive Man access to the Collector Base.
She should have blown it up.
No, no, the situation wasn’t completely unsalvageable, not if Aria was willing to meet her.
She just had to play her cards right.
“Oleg Petrovsky is a traitor,” Admiral Mikhailovich thundered, his face somehow giving the impression of being red despite Shepard’s view of him being a blue-tinged hologram, “and should be dealt with as one.”
“A sentiment we all agree with, Dimitry,” said General Tadius Ahern, the Marine scratching at his bearded chin, “but one not easily enforced.”
“What is the situation on the station?” Admiral Hackett asked.
Kieran Kauf, the current acting director of the AIA, spoke up. He was a slim-built man with cold eyes. “Petrovsky has seized control of the ‘Afterlife’ club and is using it as his headquarters. In order to keep control of the populace, he has been using mechs and security barriers, as well as patrols. While he’s maintaining control, there have been ongoing attacks against his forces by a gang called the Talons, who appear to have metamorphized into a resistance group.”
Ahern nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps we can assist them with weapons, instructors…”
Kauf didn’t respond to that, but continued at Hackett’s gesture. “His control over the Sixth isn’t absolute. Brigadier Ly attempted to relieve General Petrovsky of duty and arrest him on charges of treason, alongside the commanding officers of two of the regiments. Petrovsky had those officers and their supporters shot.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Ahern said, “Ly was a damned fine officer.”
Shepard winced. Shot for doing their duty. More names for Cerberus’ ledger.
“Whilst he had his true believers, I think that there are most certainly soldiers amongst the Sixth who are obeying out of fear - of both Petrovsky and the resistance fighters, who have not exactly been giving anyone wearing Cerberus colours the chance to surrender.”
“Perhaps we can turn some of them back - or at least get them to surrender by offering an amnesty,” Shepard suggested.
“That is a possibility I am looking into, Captain.”
Hackett spoke, an icy look in his pale blue eyes. “This is an act of treason and more importantly, it threatens our research into the Reapers and puts the IFF technology in enemy hands, as well as depriving us of one of our few docking facilities and sources of eezo. We must respond.”
“The solution is simple, sir,” Mikhailovich said strongly. “So, the man has an infantry division. We’ve got a lot more than that. We should attack Omega, take it from him and occupy it.”
“With respect, sir, I must disagree,” Shepard spoke up, ignoring the immediate glare she got for her troubles. “If we occupy Omega ourselves we’ll run into the same problem Petrovsky is having - we’ll be seen as as invaders and face the same resistance. Aria T’Loak has already arrived on station and has asked to discuss the issue with me. She can be very reasonable-”
“She’s a pirate and a warlord,” Mikhailovich sneered.
“Maybe, sir, but she’s respected by the people of Omega and seen as their leader.” Or at least feared. “And she’s not shutting the door on working with us despite Petrovsky’s betrayal. Admiral Hackett, sir,” she directed this part at him, because of everyone here, his approval was what she needed, “let me go and meet with her. She wants to use the Big Three mercenary companies to retake the station - if she’s willing to let our researchers back on the station and let our ships dock, we get the facilities back with no loss of our own troops.”
Hackett considered this. “Very well, Shepard. Talk to her and see what her demands are. If they’re acceptable we can proceed with your plan. Don’t forget what your primary objective is right now though.”
“Of course, sir.”
“Mikhailovich, you and Ahern work on the proposal for our own invasion. I will consider both at our next meeting. Dismissed.”
The hospital was busier than the last time Shepard had been to visit Ash, the staff rushing around with harried expressions on their faces. It was only going to get worse. The casualties weren’t going to stop coming.
She walked down the ward corridor, looking for the right room number. At least it appeared Ash was close to being discharged.
A young woman walked out of one of the rooms, very nearly colliding with her. She was early twenties, with dark hair down to her shoulders and alert, familiar, brown eyes. At the sight of Shepard, those eyes narrowed.
The family resemblance was striking.
“Commander Shepard,” the young woman said coolly, and Shepard didn’t think correcting her rank was the best idea.
“Sarah Williams,” she tried for a small smile, which wasn’t returned, “Ash has told me a lot about you.”
Ash’s love of her family had been charming, back on the SR1, one of those things that in hindsight, had drawn her in.
“She hasn’t told me anything about you,” Sarah said sharply.
She couldn’t help the flinch at that. There’d been times, like their week on Benning, that the secrecy had felt exciting or at least like they had their bubble to themselves. The rest of the time it had been just - hard. Trying not to walk too close, smile too long at each other. Wanting to touch Ash’s hand or kiss her and not being able to.
“I’m sorry we never got the chance to meet properly.” Shepard meant it too. She’d had all sorts of foolish, fragile dreams about a future with Ashley.
“Please don’t try the pleasantries with me, Commander. Why are you here?”
Why was she, indeed. “Ashley asked to see me.”
Sarah rolled her eyes. Her expression was hard and brittle. “You broke my sister’s heart and made her have to go up there and talk about all of it on the stand - and now what? You just waltz back into her life?”
Shepard’s heart squeezed in her chest. “That’s not my intention.”
“What is your intention, exactly?”
She opened her mouth, but Sarah was on a roll now, words pouring out of her.
“Hasn’t she been through enough? She nearly died and all she can talk about it getting back out there - about watching your back, like the Alliance hasn’t screwed our family-”
The door opened again.
“Sarah!” Ash was standing in the doorway. She was out of a hospital gown and back in streeth clothes, her half-shaved hair tied back in a ponytail. The scar across her scalp still looked raw and red.
“After everything she did to you, you’re just-”
“It’s complicated, okay? It’s not just - a matter of fault or what she did or I did.”
“How am I supposed to know that?” Sarah demanded, her voice raising, “it’s not like you ever tell me anything!”
With that, the younger Williams stormed off down the hallway.
“Fuck,” Ash sighed, leaning against the doorway.
“If you want to go after her…”
Ash shook her head. “She needs time to calm down first. I’m sorry about that. Her husband is MIA and she can’t get any news - and it looks like she’s got some problems with me that have been festering a while. You got caught in the crossfire.”
“It’s alright, Ash. I can understand why I wouldn't be the most popular person with your family,” she said, through the tightness in her chest, as she followed Ashley back into her hospital room.
“She just…my family, I mean, they just saw me during the trial and after Alchera, you know?” Ash’s eyes were steady on her face, but Shepard couldn’t quite meet them. “They didn’t see - you made me really happy, Shepard.”
“It’s really okay. I get it. You don’t need to worry about me being upset by your sister.”
Sarah was protective. Even if she was angry at Ash, it was clear her anger was coming from love.
A strange expression crossed Ashley’s face and after a moment she shook her head. “Okay, sure.”
“So your email said you accepted Udina’s offer.”
“Yeah, few more weeks of light duty but I’m being released from hospital. Working at the embassy isn’t exactly what I want to be doing, but just until I’m cleared for field work, right?”
“Yeah and…well, I have some stuff to do on the station while I’m here,” she shifted, crossed her arms, “Just talking to people and organising stuff - you could help me, if you wanted.”
Ash’s smile lit up her face. “I’d like that.”
“Cool. I’ll send you the details.”
An awkward silence fell between them, and after a moment Ash sighed, a look of determination settling on her face. “Are we gonna keep doing this? Talking about work, but not about - well, everything else? That’s a lot of water under the bridge to just ignore, Skipper.”
Shepard rubbed the back of her neck. “It didn’t go so well the last couple of times we tried.”
“Look, I - was angry at you, for a long time. You died and I - it felt like the galaxy wasn’t right anymore. And part of me…blamed you. For being so goddamned heroic, for not letting me come with you, for not being there anymore when I needed you.” There was something wounded in Ash’s eyes when they met hers, and God, Shepard had always thought she’d die like she had, but she’d never expected to have to deal with the consequences. “But that wasn’t - it wasn’t fair, Shepard. You would’ve done that for any of your crew. I don’t think I was wrong about Cerberus, but you’re you and we can - we can talk about the rest of it, but I can’t keep taking it out on you because I don’t know how to deal with my grief now you’re back. I’m sorry.”
Shepard breathed in unsteadily. “I’m sorry too. For not explaining what was going on during Horizon - for that being how you found out I was still alive. And for Mars.”
Ash shook her head. “You don’t need to apologise for Mars. That was my foot in mouth syndrome.”
“No, but - I reacted the way I did because you brought up stuff I’ve been worried about.”
“Do you…want to talk about it?” Ashley asked carefully, “About Cerberus, I mean. I’d like to know what happened. I want to understand.”
“Yeah, okay.”
They sat on the hospital bed and Shepard talked - about how she’d woken up trapped, about getting all tangled up in good intentions that she hadn’t known what to think, about feeling so cut off from the Alliance. And Ashley listened.
Codex Entry
SSV Normandy SR-2 Operations Department:
Operations Officer/Department Head: Lieutenant Commander Karim Qadir
Department Chief: Senior Chief Combat Systems Operator Dominik Kecskeméti
Combat Information Centre Division
Division Officer: Lieutenant Samantha Traynor
Division Chief: Chief Communications Technician Enitan Abiodun
Communications
Communications Technician Second Class Arif Mohammed
Senior Communications Technician Daria Raimondi
Communications Technician Hye-Jin Song
Sensors
Combat Systems Operator First Class Itsasne Abaroa
Senior Combat Systems Operator Arya Shah
Senior Combat Systems Operator Shun Hu
Combat Systems Operator Maximino Gomes
Intelligence
Intelligence Analyst Third Class Helena Zawisza
Senior Intelligence Analyst Saburō Maki
Navigation Division
Division Officer: Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau
Division Chief: Quartermaster Third Class Alex Thomason
Flight Officers
Sub-Lieutenant Gao Yan
Sub-Lieutenant Hanna Janzen
Chapter 16: Warlords
Notes:
Alree, Nalethia and Andre are borrowed gratefulyl from my friend Jean and their story is in the Solar Flares series: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1688242
Chapter Text
Aria T’Loak looked as dangerous as ever, lounging like a resting lioness, eyes sharp as knives on Shepard’s face as she sat down.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” Aria said, gaze never wavering.
“For a political promotion? Don’t worry about it. I’m glad to see you and some of your people got off Omega.” Shepard recognised some of the handful of well-dressed gangsters hanging around the asari.
“Hmm,” Aria leant back, crossing her arms, “I hate the Citadel. More rules and regulations than Armali and every second person thinks they’re the most important person in the galaxy. Cerberus is now squarely at the top of my shit list. Petrovsky,” she said that name like it was a curse word, “is going to pay for every moment I spend in this bureaucratic hell hole.”
“About Petrovsky,” Shepard began.
Aria waved a dismissive hand. “Petrovsky betrayed you as much as he did me. That gives us something in common. I’m sure we both want to see Omega back in the right hands and Petrovsky punished for what he’s done.”
“Of course. But if you’re to take back Omega, you’ll need troops.”
“Shepard,” Aria said, eyes glittering in the club’s low light, “if you suggest sending another Alliance division to take back my station, I will throw you across this club.”
Shepard wisely shut her mouth.
Aria continued. “The way I see it, if the Reapers aren’t defeated, we’re all dead. It won’t matter where I’m sitting. It’s in my interests to help you. So here’s my deal, Shepard: your help sealing the deal in uniting the Blood Pack, Eclipse and Blue Suns as an army to retake Omega - and you as that force’s commander - and then my forces assist your war effort. Once the station is back in my hands, I supply the Alliance with eezo and provide dry docks for repairs for the duration of the war.”
“What do I need to do with the mercenaries?”
“I’ve organised it all, you just need to seal the deal. Bray will send you the details. I don’t care much about how you do it, Shepard, just so long as they’re committed.”
After a moment, Shepard nodded. “You have a deal.”
“So, what’s the plan?” Ash asked as they walked down the Citadel corridor that led to the Spectre office.
Shepard glanced over at her. “Well, I spoke to the Blood Pack representative and that’s sorted out,” aka, Gryll and Narl had helped her kill Kreete, leaving the big krogan in charge of the Blood Pack on the Citadel - and forewarned not to betray Aria, “but Vosque is a creepy little shit, and I don’t trust him. He wanted me to assassinate a turian general.”
“The fuck?” Ash raised an eyebrow. “He just…said that to a Spectre?”
“Yep. So he’s also an idiot. He’s not reliable, so we’re gonna solve the problem. We’ll lure him to a meeting and then if he’s smart enough he’ll come quietly. Otherwise…”
Ash just nodded.
“But first I want to make sure Solem Dal’Serah, the Blue Suns’ Chief Operations Executive and the guy whose power Vosque is after, will agree to Aria’s terms. He and a bunch of the Suns are trapped in the Terminus right now, but we should be able to contact him through QEC.”
The blue-lit Spectre office was quiet and empty. Perfect.
“So how, exactly, did a batarian mercenary officer who is currently cut off by Reaper forces in the Terminus get his hands on a QEC?” Ash asked as they stepped into the comms suite.
Shepard tapped on the control panel so the QEC could begin the process of connecting to the paired terminal. “AIA in the area has one. He doesn’t get to keep it, but this way we can talk to him.”
“Do I want to know how you convinced the AIA to let you do this?”
Shepard smiled. The holo hummed as it connected.
The holo shimmered to life and resolved into the image of a batarian man in the standard armour of a Blue Suns trooper, blackened and scarred where it had absorbed the impact of weapons fire and explosions. The man’s face was no prettier for all that, dirt-smeared and battered, and a lit cigarette smouldered in his mouth.
Solem Dal’Serah’s voice was a hoarse rasp. “Am I speaking to Shepard?”
“Captain Shepard and Lieutenant Williams, both of the Office of Special Tactics, yes,” she responded. At least the man wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty, by the looks of him.
“Hm. Alright, cards on the table.” Dal’Serah blew out a puff of smoke from his nostrils, and his upper set of eyes closed as it wreathed his features. “I’ve had to write a lot of next of kin notifications because of you. And you killed my co-executive officer of the Blue Suns. While the Reapers are still kicking, I don’t give a shit. Sound good?”
And she thought half the Suns were two bit pirates and murderers, especially those she’d killed. She certainly wasn’t going to apologise for it - or lose sleep over it. Vido had taken a factory of workers hostage and she would’ve killed him for that even if he hadn’t screwed one of her crew over.
“Nothing matters to me right now but defeating the Reapers.”
Dal’Serah’s cigarette had burned down to the end; he drew a packet from within a spare ammo pouch, produced a new one, and rather than using the self-lighting tip the Blue Suns leader chain-lit it off the end. “Then we’re on the same page. Still not sure why you’re calling, though. The Suns are still kicking but I’m not in the best shape out here.”
“I’ve got some bad news for you. As you may or may not be aware, Omega has fallen to the enemy, and Aria T’Loak is eager to raise a force to take it back. Most of the Suns have retreated here to the Citadel to regroup, and have fallen under the dubious command of Darner Vosque. He either thinks you’re dead or are about to be, because he’s claimed your position in the company and made a deal with T’Loak. He’s sure as hell not looking to pull off any rescues.”
The batarian had been slumped over in a pose Shepard had seen on many a soldier in the field—not resigned, nor defeated, but utterly exhausted, hunched over a datapad, a holorecording, or even a simple cigarette like Dal’Serah. But at the mention of what had transpired in his absence, the Blue Suns leader straightened to parade-ground stiffness.
“Sorry, this QEC tech isn’t as good as your spooks say, cause I swear I heard you say Darner Vosque is taking charge back there?”
“I’m afraid so. I’ve had the dubious experience of talking to him. He tried to convince me to assassinate a turian general.”
“He what?”
“That was my reaction,” Ash said dryly, “what kind of fucking idiot says that to the face of a Spectre?”
“I can send through text files confirming that he’s calling himself the Chief Operations Executive and giving orders to your units here, if you need,” Shepard said politely.
“No need,” growled Dal’Serah. “If the idiot has nothing else, he has the audacity. Surprised you didn’t kill the little prick. He must have written me off, but I’ll show him.”
“I was tempted,” she admitted, “but I’m hoping the two of us can come to an agreement. Vosque is not the man to lead your organisation into a war like this, and he’s not trustworthy. I can’t rely on him. You, you’re a soldier. I can work with a soldier. Williams and I can take care of Vosque for you, and there’s an Alliance flotilla near your position. I can get those ships to help you break out and evacuate whatever of your troops you don’t have enough of your own transports for.”
Dal’Serah was silent for a second, puffing on his cigarette. “In exchange for what? Helping Aria retake Omega?”
She nodded. “Honouring the deal with Aria, and your cooperation with the Systems Alliance for the duration of the war against the Reapers.”
“Done,” said Dal’Serah, without hesitation. The Blue Sun even threw in a slight respectful head tilt. “The Reapers aren’t an enemy you can fight alone.”
She let herself smile. So few people were actually reasonable that the batarian’s demeanour was refreshing. “Good. The unit that will be assisting you will be elements of the First Fleet and their Marines. Agent Kahinu can facilitate communications between you and Admiral Egues.”
“Understood.” Dal’Serah took a drag off of his now almost-done cigarette. “But Shepard—when this war is over? There are a lot of ghosts who need accounting for.”
Ashley bristled, eyes narrowed. “Like those ‘ghosts’ who were using false distress calls to lure in civilian freighters-”
Shepard put a hand on her shoulder, cutting her off. “I’m an Alliance officer and a Spectre, Mr Dal’Serah. I’ve only ever done my duty, and I’m sure you’ll do what you see as yours by your troops. But that’s a problem for another day - if we all survive the end of the galaxy.”
The batarian nodded. “Let’s make sure we make it that far. And if you run into Zaeed Massani, give him my regards.”
Solem Dal’Serah, Chief Operations Executive of the Blue Suns, tossed his cigarette butt on the ground. The holo fizzled out shortly thereafter.
“Yeah,” Shepard looked at the space the holo had just been, “I don’t think Zaeed would appreciate that.”
Three hours later Darner Vosque was dead with two rounds from an Alliance Phalanx in his chest.
“Right through there, Captain,” the CSec officer said politely, nodding to the door that led into the cell block for biotic prisoners. Shepard nodded back and stepped through, rubbing the back of her neck, over the metallic nub of her own amp.
All the prisoners here would have inhibitors, like she had had when she’d been held after Bahak. The experience had been less than pleasant.
Jona Sederis was being held alone, behind bars and a barrier. Shepard stepped up to it.
“Hello, Sederis.”
The leader of Eclipse had been sitting in the corner, reading something on a documents-only datapad. At Emilia’s greeting, she looked over and stood up to loom over the Alliance commando. She was tall, Sederis, and carried herself like the Republics gentry she had been born into. But there had always been a hint of menace beneath the polish, simmering like a pot ready to boil over.
“Lady” Sederis had been fond of carrying asari swords into action. Emilia had seen her slice off the hand of one of her subordinates without so much as a second thought. And judging by the look of pure poison spreading across her features, that simmering fury wasn’t quite as well-contained this time around.
“Hello, Shepard. Couldn’t find another one of my battalions to decimate?”
Shepard crossed her arms. There was a flash of memory - Captain Wasea smiling in the moment before Garrus had put a hole in her head - but she forced it down. “The world is ending, Sederis. Some would say it’s time to put differences aside.”
“Some would even say a fair few worlds have already ended, Shepard.” Sederis folded her arms in turn, arching a brow. “What do you want?”
“Aria T’Loak sent me. She said she had a deal with you, so long as I organise your release. CSec is...not too happy with the idea.” Shepard had never liked Sederis in the times they’d crossed paths. She was dangerous, well entrenched in her prejudices, and had mistreated some of the subordinates Shepard had considered friends.
“That upjumped human strutting around the Embassies thinks I have it in for him. Apparently my word as a Lady of Armali meant little and less.” She sniffed contemptuously. “I did promise that any clandestine operations in C-Space would be put on hold. For now. Aria recognizes the value my soldiers would provide her in this war, he ought to as well.”
Shepard didn’t particularly like Bailey either, but she thought he might have a point when it came to Sederis. “If this deal goes ahead, Aria has promised me assistance. Eclipse will likely need to operate closely with the Alliance. I came here to allay CSec’s fears and make sure we can let bygones be bygones.”
This war was turning her into a fucking politician. Jesus Christ.
Sederis’ smile turned positively nasty. “Can we? Should we? You need my soldiers, Shepard, but I’ll make it out of here one way or another - even in here, you’re the one coming to my door begging me for my help. And after how you tore apart 23 Battalion, I must say I’m not entirely keen on offering it. Neither would the survivors, I imagine. Do you still keep in touch with them?“
Shepard did her best to keep the flinch off her face. “Your troops knew the consequences for getting in the way of a Spectre. I gave them all a chance to surrender.”
She’d given them all but Enyala a chance to back down. None of them had taken it except for Andre Protin, out of fear or loyalty or a misplaced sense of professionalism. Wasea’s death had been such a goddamn waste.
“And the ones worth a damn did their jobs.” Sederis’ voice shifted into a snarl. “Colonel T’Resh is lucky her pet human proved worthwhile elsewhere. Roe, Enyala, Pek, Morl, and your dear Wasea were the true soldiers. If you let me out of here, that is the calibre of commando I will bring to the table. Unflinching, unhesitating, able to put personal feelings aside and get the job done. And that is what you need to win this war.”
Shepard tilted her head and took a step closer to the barrier and met Sederis’ eyes. “You’re right about that. And you’re right Eclipse would be an asset to the war. But the only way you’re getting out of her is if I authorise it. Agree to work with me and you get out of here and you get the resources to get your troops fighting again.”
The Eclipse leader’s gaze was devoid of any positive emotion. “My troops will go nowhere without me, you’re right, and that goes double if you leave me in here. With me gone, leadership of the organisation devolves onto Sayn, and we both know he has the backbone of a flaccid cock.”
That was true enough. “Then give me your word and we can both get on with our lives.”
“After everything you’ve done to me and my company?” Jona Sederis shook her head, smiling like a varren sighting prey. “Never, Shepard. You either submit to my demands, or Eclipse sits this war out. And when I get out of here on my own terms, you will regret trying to leave me here to rot. Even more than one of my own officers might have regretted trying to date a human before dying at that human’s hands.”
Shepard smiled, knife-sharp and without humour. Sederis was used to being the most terrifying person in the room, but Shepard had been hunted by Reapers. Very little frightened her anymore. “Sit tight, Lady Sederis.”
She turned on her heel. Jona Sederis’ hollow laughter followed her out of the cells.
Outside the prison Shepard stopped and shook her head, dialling a familiar number.
“You were right,” she said without preamble, “Sederis won’t play ball.”
Shepard being humiliated wouldn’t be enough for Sederis. If Shepard had thought it would be, she would’ve swallowed her pride for the sake of the war. No, she’d have to worry about yet more people trying to assassinate her and the potential for any Eclipse-Alliance operations to go very very poorly.
“I’m usually right,” Ashley responded with a hint of amusement before her voice went deadly serious, “You want me and Vakarian to set it up?”
“Belay that for now. Gotta set up the succession before we knock the queen over.”
The Eclipse troops who’d fled to the Citadel were, like a lot of refugees, confined to the docking bays-turned-refugee camps. There were a few Eclipse ships stuck in the ragtag refugee flotillas too, but Shepard knew she’d find most of the leadership on the station.
Though, unlike most refugees, the mercenaries had guns. Lots of guns.
Several were pointed at her and Ashley when they stopped outside the Eclipse camp. Shepard crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.
“We’re Spectres,” she said, rather flatly, “and we need to talk to Chief Operative Sayn.”
Both she and Ashley were in their Alliance uniforms and clip-on barriers - and bulletproof vests under the uniform jackets. But really Shepard was relying on Eclipse not being suicidally stupid enough to ice a couple of Spectres on the Citadel. She did hope some of 23 Battalion had made it here, though.
The Eclipse troopers standing sentry were a human and a salarian, neither of whom seemed to recognize Shepard beyond the newscast hero publicity. They did, however, seem to be internally debating just how much of a tough-guy act they needed to put on when a familiar figure came swaggering out of the camp. A short muscular asari in a crop top and a leather jacket, shotgun cradled over her chest like a child, walked over to Shepard and Ashley. She was grinning like a gargoyle.
“You two can stand down,” said Alree T’Mira. “Should’ve known better than to worry about the Reapers killing you, Shep’. Who’s your friend?”
“Hey, Alree,” she smiled slightly, “this is Staff Lieutenant Ashley Williams, my fellow Spectre.”
Ash nodded to her, her jacket pulling across the concealed holster she was wearing.
“Vanguard Sergeant Alree T’Mira, Ma’am. Friend of Shep’s a friend of mine.” Alree touched two fingers to her brow in an informal salute, shifted something around between her lip and gum. Probably a stimulant of some sort, if Shepard knew the scrappy commando. “Fuck you lookin’ for Sayn for? You know better’n most how useless he is.”
“Waste of perfectly good oxygen,” Shepard agreed, “but T’Loak has me playing in-between.”
“Rough,” said Alree. “C’mon, then. It’s a whole melting pot of Illium survivors and elsewhere rallying up here, but you might see some familiar faces.”
“Nalethia and Andre make it out?” she asked as she followed the asari commando. The Eclipse camp seemed to have been set up with something akin to actual military discipline and order. Clearly some of the company’s frontline elements were still kicking.
“Oh, sure, ruin the surprise when I alluded to ‘familiar faces’.” Alree barked a laugh as they made their way past the camp’s complement. The Anhur veterans were easily recognizable - they were the ones grinning and waving at Shepard’s arrival rather than trying to mean mug her. “They’re both still kicking. Nal wouldn’t forgive me if I let Andre go down. And he sure as shit wouldn’t if I let her die too.”
“That’s real good to hear,” Shepard said, with a genuine smile. She nodded back to the mercs who waved. It was good that she hadn’t completely blown the goodwill with what had happened with Pek, Morl and Wasea.
She’d add Enyala to that list, but she didn’t think anyone had particularly liked Enyala.
Ash sent her a questioning look, which she returned with a mouthed tell you later. She hadn’t exactly been open about her work as a N7 on the SR-1. Not least because a bunch of it was classified.
The crate corridors opened into a clearing, and Emilia found herself in the camp’s command post. It was a ragged affair, far from Eclipse’s usual standards of razor-sharp efficiency, but the fundamentals were still there: boards to track unit status and troop losses (of which there were many in the war), a chart of the galaxy showing who and how many were scattered to the solar winds, and in the middle was a glowing blue tactical plot around which the leadership was clustered.
Alree gave a piercing whistle as she strutted into the command post. “Guess who didn’t get iced by the godsquid!”
Two of the leadership near the tactical plot perked up at that. The first was an asari in well-cut formal wear, face dappled with white markings. She might have been cut from the same cloth as Jona Sederis if it hadn’t been for the genuine warmth behind her elegant poise.
The other was a human in practical casual attire, with a ragged undercut and an angry, fresh burn scar splashed across the right half of his face. But even with the new wound, Andre Protin’s familiar earnest grin remained, and he stepped over to seize Shepard’s hand in an enthusiastic shake.
“Thank fuck,” he said. “When we heard about Earth…”
She clasped his hand and then stepped back. Ashley’s expression was decidedly bemused.
“Yeah. It was a close call but we made it out.” All too many people hadn’t been as lucky. “Glad you two made it.”
“So are we,” said Nalethia T’Resh. Her voice was all Thessian polish. “Illium fell hard but fell it did---although I’m being terribly rude. Lieutenant, I’m Colonel Nalethia T’Resh, this is my XO Major Andre Protin, and my senior enlisted soldier Vanguard Sergeant Alree T’Mira. We’ve had the pleasure of working with Shepard here before.”
“Lieutenant Ashley Williams,” Ash responded, cutting a look at Shepard. “Shepard and I are... partners-” she cut herself off and clarified, flushing slightly, “Spectre partners.”
Right. Hopefully when Udina cut her loose Ash could take over as her MARDET Commander, but in terms of the personal…
Ash’s friendship wasn’t a consolation prize. She’d take her in her life however Ash was willing to be in it.
Nalethia arched an eyebrow, and nonchalantly reached up to gently scratch at Andre’s shaven temple. “Partners. Indeed. We all need people we can count on in these times.”
There was a knowing twist on that word that made Shepard shift slightly, something in her chest clenching for a moment.
Alree snickered and looked at Shepard. “I’ll go check on the perimeter, Shep’. I’m not really fit to meet with the brass, still. Ma’am, they wanted to have a chat with Chief Sayn.”
“Thank you, Alree. Carry on.” Nalethia looked back to Emilia, expression shifting to bemused. “Sayn. Really? Shepard, you know...well, you hardly need me to tell you.”
Next to her, Andre had finished giving Alree a kiss on the cheek as she departed, and rolled up his sleeve to scratch at his right forearm. There seemed to be a seam between the lower and upper portions of the limb, and a scowl spread over his features. “He’s got even less authority here with Sederis in jail. We’re just kinda humouring him till she gets out.”
Shepard smiled. “About that...is there a place we can talk uninterrupted?”
Andre and Nalethia exchanged glances, before Nalethia nodded. “This way.”
She led them to another shipping container, sparsely furnished, with odds and ends of Illium high society stored within: a holographic art piece, and a well-tailored dress. There were some outliers, too - more human-sized practical-casual clothing, and a pair of Mantis gunship models, one in Eclipse colours, the other in Alliance.
“Our quarters,” Nalethia said, matter-of-factly, though she did seem to be amusedly eyeing Ashley for her reaction. Eclipse’s approach to fraternisation restrictions was the same as the Republics - which was to say, there were none at all. This was only underscored by Andre posting up next to Nalethia and leaning his head on her shoulder. “Have a seat, Andre and I can stand.”
Ashley was looking around the room - and then she glanced at Shepard and just as quickly away. While it had lasted, their relationship had always been behind closed doors. A secret.
Shepard sat and crossed her legs at the ankle. She decided to be upfront. “Aria wanted me to get Sederis released. Part of their deal. But I went and saw Sederis and…”
“...she had about as many issues as you’d expect given how often you came up against us, last year.” Andre nodded, expression rueful. He was rubbing at that seam on his arm again. “How bad was it?”
“Bad enough that I’m fairly certain she’ll try to have me killed as soon as she’s out,” she said matter-of-factly.
“She can try,” Ash muttered darkly, frowning.
“She can indeed,” repeated Nalethia, voice suddenly exceedingly frosty. “Try, that is.”
“I wonder if she realises just how many Anhur vets there are on this station,” growled Andre. “That would be a bad call. So, what---we co-opt Sayn and let her rot?”
“Darling, how you remain so pure sometimes after spending so much time with us is beyond me.” Nalethia sighed and turned her head to kiss Andre on the cheek. “Emilia, if your conclusion is what I imagine it’s about to be...do you have the top cover to make it work?”
Ash smirked.
“I do,” Shepard replied, “it obviously can’t be linked to any insider in your organisation, but we’re Spectres.”
And this was the Citadel, their home turf.
Andre glared down at his arm. “Do me a favour and try to return the one she paid me.”
“And there’s the man I made my bondmate.” Nalethia laughed. “Andre is right though, Emilia. We need Sayn. The man will provide a certain status to anyone he serves, given his history with Sederis. And much as I wish it otherwise, I am far from the only officer who will move to fill the gap.”
Ash crossed her arms, raising one dark eyebrow. “Getting a bit ahead of yourself, aren’t you?”
Ash didn’t trust easily. Never had.
Nalethia inclined her chin, not-quite challenging. “Lieutenant, had Shepard intended on another officer assuming control of Eclipse, we wouldn’t be having this conversation to begin with.”
Ash glanced at Shepard, who shrugged. “Sayn’s too weak to hold Eclipse together, and the last thing we need is infighting. But Nalethia’s right - he has a certain use.”
“Your call, Skipper,” she said after a moment.
“I thought the forewarning could give you some time to...get your ducks in a row so to speak, but if you think there’s anything I can say or do with Sayn to push him in the right direction…?”
Andre nodded, features growing more neutral. He’d stiffened at Ash’s sudden hostility, hackles raising like a loyal war dog. “I’ve worked with him before. Gotta play to his ego---so if you or Nal can spin him a song about how critical he is to the running of the company behind the scenes, the logistics and admin stuff, he might eat that up. And it’s not wrong, guy’s a wizard staff officer. Just a shit leader.”
Shepard nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”
That was when Ashley’s omnitool pinged. She frowned, tapping it open. “Sorry, Skipper, I gotta take this.”
“The Councillor?”
“Yup,” she popped the word. “Excuse me.”
When Ashley had ducked out the door, Shepard refocused on the two mercenaries. “I’m thinking 48 hours. That long enough for you?”
Nalethia idly entangled her fingers in Andre’s hair, considering. “Hm. On my end, yes. Dearest, can you sort the ranks?”
Andre nodded, humming contentedly as his eyes fluttered shut briefly. “Alree and I will have a chat. I’ll bunk with her tonight.”
“It is her turn, isn’t it?” Nalethia nodded and looked at Shepard. “Speaking of partners...Shepard, we are friends, yes?”
Shepard blinked at the subject change. “Of course.”
“Good.” Nalethia released Andre and settled down next to Emilia on the threadbare futon that served as the shipping container’s sole piece of furniture. “What in Athame’s name are you waiting on with her?”
Shepard blinked again, thrown off-kilter, “With - Ashley? It’s that obvious?”
Andre hid a smirk behind his hand. “It’s about as bad as me and Nal. Or Alree.”
Shepard groaned and rubbed her face. “It’s complicated.”
Naletha T’Resh gave as long-suffering a sigh as her centuries of life experience lent her. It was quite a bit. “Shepard. Darling. The galaxy is literally on fire. Is this really the time to brush it off as complicated?”
Shepard opened her mouth and then closed it, rubbing the back of her neck. “We were together, three years ago now. I risked my career for her. And then…” she grimaced. “I hurt her immensely. There were a lot of harsh words. I don’t even know if she’d want me back.”
Another sigh. “If this hadn’t seemed mutual I’d not have brought it up.”
“Oh.” The distance between them had seemed insurmountable, the times Ash had said loved in the past tense like knives in her side. But was she really worried about hurting Ash again or just afraid of rejection? She’d survived Horizon, hadn’t she? “I guess I’m being pretty dumb about this.”
Nalethia’s smile was gentle, and she squeezed Emilia’s shoulder before standing up to walk over to Andre and drape an affectionate arm over his shoulders. “I think you two hurt each other. And you’re very worried about doing so again, despite your feelings. But the galaxy is falling apart around us...and right now we need to take solace in each other.”
Did she really want for the two of them to move on, see other people? The thought of Ash with someone else still made her chest hurt, but it wasn’t like she could demand the other woman wait if she didn’t say something.
She let out a breath. “Damn, Nalethia. If the mercenary thing doesn’t work out, you’d be a great relationship counsellor.”
Andre laughed. “Make sure this crap with Sederis goes off right, and it’ll be an exclusive retainer for you.”
Jona Sederis was dead.
Shepard had given the order even if she hadn’t pulled the trigger. No, her two closest friends had done that for her. She doubted either Garrus or Ash would lose sleep about it either.
CSec had investigated but just as quietly ended it when she’d spoken to Bailey, who’d seemed a bit caught off guard that she’d done such a thing. The efficient solution.
Damnit.
Outside the Spectre office, she brought up Nalethia’s contact info and sent a quick message. Is now a good time for me to stop by?
Didn’t want to interrupt if she was still...consolidating.
A message immediately came back: Very much so.
On my way.
She caught rapid transport down to the refugee camp and in short order found herself at the Eclipse camp.
It was immediately clear that things had changed. The raggedness of the perimeter and tough-guy attitude of the guards had vanished in favour of an icy professionalism. The two sentries, upon spying Emilia’s rank, immediately snapped to attention and saluted, lowering it when Shepard returned it.
Inside, the command post was similarly converted to bleeding-edge efficiency, with each of the tracking stations manned and monitored rather than harried troops dashing about hither and thither. Standing around the tactical plot were the familiar faces of Nalethia T’Resh, Andre Protin, and Alree T’Mira...with one more, besides. A towering salarian, skin a dull green, head held arrogantly high.
It was the salarian who saw her first. “Men. Get ready for trouble.”
Nalethia looked over as the sentries unlimbered weapons. “Hm? Oh - Chief, you can stand down. That’s Shepard. Hello, Shepard.”
Vandew Sayn squinted, blinked owlishly, then nodded. “Oh. Hello, Shepard. You understand - humans all look alike.”
She smiled tightly back in response, “No offence taken, Chief. Making some changes around here, I see?”
“Indeed.” Sayn looked over to Nalethia. “Colonel T’Resh has done an excellent job of getting us back up to standard. We were waiting for the boss to get out and, well. That won’t be happening anymore. But we got too close to losing our edge.”
Behind Sayn’s back, Andre dropped Emilia a wink. The words made sense, but coming from the ultimate swivel-chair hussar that was Sayn, it was like hearing a dog give a dissertation.
“I heard,” Shepard said blandly, “Hopefully we can get you all out of here and back to doing what you do best soon.”
“Indeed,” echoed Nalethia. “Chief, could you kindly check on the cyclic inventories from our vessels in-system?”
“Of course.” Sayn dipped his head in a choppy military bow, the same way Emilia had seen him do to Jona Sederis, and took his leave.
Shepard waited until he was gone and then shot Nalethia a sly smirk. “Seems you’ve got that under control.”
“Some men need a firm hand,” came the airy response. “There was some backchat from other senior officers but when Sayn learned you were in my corner and they learned Sayn was in mine that calmed matters down quickly.”
“Good, good,” it was a relief when things worked out as you hoped, “Aria wants to confirm her previous agreement with Sederis holds up.” Aria could have done it herself and Shepard was coming to her limits of playing messenger, but she got it to an extent. Shepard was a Spectre. She didn’t have the scrutiny Aria was under - and she was a living, walking status symbol for the asari warlord.
“Of course,” said Nalethia. “Andre?”
Andre tapped at his omnitool, and Shepard’s briefly flashed to life with a received file. “We’ve already put together provisional MTOEs for forces to retake Omega and smaller detachments to assist your actions against the Reapers. TF Omega - feel free to rename that - will likely be a battalion-sized element like we had out on Anhur. The rest will be detachments from other units to be sized and deployed as you see fit. Just give us a target and an end state.”
She nodded, rubbing her jaw - wincing when a finger caught the seam of a scar there, “Aria wants me to take personal command of the Omega operation. For the other deployments, I’ll coordinate with Command to see where we can use you best.”
Nalethia winked at Andre and looked back to Emilia. “I was hoping you’d say that. I intend to commit 23 Battalion personally to retake that station.”
“Excellent. You’ll be pleased to know that Mr Vosque won’t be joining us,” she said with a sharp smile.
Now that brought Andre and Nalethia up short, though there was a snicker from Alree T’Mira back at the tactical plot.
Nalethia, predictably, recovered first with an amused shake of her head. “Well now, that’s two out of three. The Blood Pack had best watch their back. And who, pray tell, did you replace him with?”
“The Blood Pack sorted themselves out for me,” she said with a shrug. Gryll had been surprisingly reasonable. “Dal'Serah wasn’t onboard with the change of management, and I convinced Admiral Egues to help him break out and rejoin his forces here on the station.”
Andre let out a low whistle. “Old Leadhead himself, back in the fight. I can only imagine how well he took the news that Vosque had usurped him.”
“Not well,” she said cheerily, “but I thought now wasn’t the time for some mercenary civil war.”
“No, not with the galaxy ablaze,” agreed Nalethia. “I doubt anyone will truly mourn the loss of Vosque. Still not sure how he rose to the top to begin with, but...you know the Suns.”
“Vosque was more of a pirate than a soldier,” she agreed.
“So are far too many of the Suns.” Nalethia’s expression grew grim. “You’ll see when the time comes to retake Omega.”
Shepard grimaced. She hoped Aria wasn’t wrong that she could keep control of the disparate task force - she was used to Alliance troops, not mercenaries and pirates. “We’ll see. I should be getting back to it.” Too many things to do, too little time. “I’ll let you know as soon as I have a time frame for the operation.”
Nalethia T’Resh nodded. “You shan’t regret this, Shepard. I promise. Take care of yourself out there.”
Codex Entry
The Systems Alliance Eighth Fleet:
The youngest of the Systems Alliance Navy’s numbered fleets, the Eighth Fleet was raised during the 2169 re-organisation of the Alliance Armada. Originally consisting of the aging SSV Lhotse and fifty-two warships, primarily frigates and light cruisers, the Fleet was responsible for patrolling the Alliance’s unstable, if sparsely populated, border regions in the Verge.
From 2175 to 2183, the Fleet was responsible for the destruction of twelve hostile vessels, the capture of two million tonnes of contraband, and the resolution of three hundred and sixty-two incidents in space. The Eighth Fleet had the Alliance Navy’s highest operational tempo and an often chronic manpower shortage, and it was said that deployment with the Eighth could make or break an officer’s career.
With the outbreak of the Eden Prime War, the Eighth was mobilised but ultimately saw little battle beyond a handful of skirmishes with geth vessels and the destruction of two outposts on isolated worlds.
In 2178, with the growth of the human population in the Fleet’s Area of Operations, the expansion of military facilities on Ontarom and the establishment of several treaties with the independent world of Caleston, the Eighth Fleet was placed under the command of Medal of Heroism recipient, Admiral Janice Holloway, and expanded to a full one hundred warships and twenty-one support vessels over the next two years. At this time, the SSV Lhotse, suffering an increasing amount of mechanical issues, was decommissioned and replaced by the newly built SSV Tai Shan.
During the opening stages of the Reaper War, the Reapers bypassed the Eighth Fleet during the assault on Sol, before ambushing them above Ontarom, inflicting horrific casualties of tens of thousands of lives and dozens of ships, including the carrier SSV Robert Oppenheimer and Tai Shan. Once nicknamed the ‘Wardens of the Verge’, the Eighth Fleet has become the Verge’s ghost fleet.
Chapter 17: Gravity
Notes:
Mind the increased rating! Been thinking of it for a while due to some of the more violent scenes, but there's a sex scene in this chapter. Skip from when they arrive back at the apartment if you'd rather not read that/are reading in public. Big thanks as always to MikWrites for betaing and cheering me on with this fic!
If you've read my oneshot series you might recognise a scene from this that's been the 'concept' for this chapter in my head for a while.
Chapter Text
“Captain Shepard,” Udina barely looked up from his screen. His mouth was even more pinched than usual. “You’re late.”
Shepard grit her teeth and managed to keep her voice cordial. “I’ve been dealing with another urgent matter today. I came as quickly as I could.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “No matter. Have you heard of Colonel Dracor Pacwanar?”
Shepard shook her head. “No, I haven’t. Sounds batarian.”
“Yes. He’s the former bosom buddy of the Hegemon - he defected last year with vital intelligence, and he’s now become an important figure amongst the batarian refugees. Some of the surviving batarian military assets - the ones that aren’t indoctrinated - have pledged themselves to him.”
Shepard frowned. What would he want with a batarian nobleman? Though, if he had control of what was left of the (not indoctrinated) batarian military, perhaps he could be an asset, though an inevitable logistical drag.
“You want me to lean on him for those assets?” Shepard guessed, eyebrows furrowing.
Udina huffed out a breath. “No leaning is required. He’s attending a gala to raise money for refugees along with a great deal of the Citadel’s rich, famous and influential. I want you and Williams to attend. She’s got something of a rapport with Pacwanar already. You, I want to talk to other people there. Charm them.”
He wanted her to go to a party. A party while the galaxy was burning. “With respect, Councillor, I’m a military officer. I have several operations I’m trying to set up-”
“And they’ll still be there tomorrow. You’re one of the faces of this war, whether you like it or not.” He rubbed his face. There were dark circles under his eyes. “Shepard, we need support to win this war. We can’t win on the battlefield if we don’t win in the hearts of the galaxy first.”
Sure, but there were people for that. People that weren’t her. “Councillor-”
Udina’s expression hardened. “This isn’t a request, Shepard.”
She nodded stiffly. “Aye, Councillor.”
“My assistant will send you the details. Don’t wear your uniform either - a suit or something. These people aren’t military, for the most part. Oh, and arrive with Williams if you can.”
She blinked. That seemed - an odd request. “Councillor?”
“The reports of you two being - romantically involved,” he grimaced even as she cringed, “do well amongst the asari according to my media analysts.”
“We’re not-” Shepard said weakly.
He waved her off. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not asking you to lie. Just…let the media draw their own opinions.”
Shepard would have rather shot herself. Her relationships or lack thereof were - personal. Private. How she felt about Ashley, their previous relationship - that was hers. How many parts of herself would she have to carve up for everyone else? What could she hold back, if it helped the war?
“Very well.”
“Dismissed.”
Shepard rose to her feet and left Udina’s office in fuming silence.
It’d been a while since Ashley had seen Colonel Dracor Pacwanar, once the commanding officer of the Hegemon’s bodyguards, who’d defected with proof of the dark energy weapon his old friend had been building. They’d destroyed it together with Spectre Maetok, but back then he’d been thin and weakened from his injuries at the hands of an SIU torturer.
Now, surrounded by the Citadel’s elites, he looked healthy and strong, reddish-brown face no longer gaunt and muscle back on his frame. His missing eye had been replaced by a glass one. He seemed at ease around the politicians and the celebrities in a way she couldn’t pretend to be.
He reached out a hand. “Lieutenant Williams, it is good to see you survived.”
She shook it. “Likewise. Heard you’ve been busy.”
She wasn’t the best with batarian facial expressions, but he looked solemn. “There’s much to be done if Ra’elok is to be overthrown and my people saved from the Reapers.”
“Yeah. Lot to do if any of us are to survive.”
“Indeed.” His bottom two eyes stayed fixed on her, while the remaining top one looked past her to -
To Shepard, talking to an asari socialite in a dress sparkly enough it hurt Ash’s eyes to look at. She’d shown up looking like that - dark suit, white pressed shirt, Alliance blue tie - and if it’d been three years ago, Ash would have been tempted to drag her inside and forget the party. But it wasn’t three years ago, so she’d bitten her tongue and tried not to stare too much. Their conversation in the sky car over had been stilted, Shepard staring out the window at the city flashing past.
“Your government wants my assistance again,” Pacwanar said, drawing her attention back, “but your Captain Shepard concerns me.”
She wasn’t Ash’s, not anymore.
“Shepard wants victory against the Reapers, nothing more.”
He swirled his drink, blinking his lower eyes repeatedly. “I have heard the justifications. But would she have destroyed Bahak if it was a human colony?”
“I think so,” Ash said, honestly.
“I am not certain what that says about her,” he said contemplatively, taking a sip of his bright orange drink, “or you, for loving her.”
“What did loving Ra’elok Illtul say about you?” she shot back sharply.
For a moment she thought she’d pushed him too far, jabbing such a sore spot like that, but after a moment, he laughed a small, sad, wry laugh. “That I was a blinded fool for all too long, distracted by private kindness from his public cruelties. For your sake, I hope they are not at all similar.”
“Shepard is one of the most compassionate people I’ve ever met,” Ashley said strongly, “she won’t leave your people to the Reapers if she can help it.”
Pacwanar sighed heavily. “What choice do I have anyway? My fleet barely has fuel or ammunition, with no dry docks; My people are refugees crammed in the docks and I have little intel on what is happening in batarian space. Revenge for Bahak won’t save my people.”
“Shepard’s putting together an alliance with the krogan and turians, Pacwanar. There is still hope - for all of us.”
All of his eyes fixed on her, searching, “I hope so. You can tell your councillor that he will have what he wants from me.”
“Thank you.” Putting aside bad blood wasn’t easy, but it was what they were demanding of the turians and krogan. Humanity and the batarians had to do the same.
A peal of laughter rang above the soft music inside the hall. Involuntarily, Ash looked over - at Shepard and the socialite she was talking to. The asari had stepped close to Shepard, smiling warmly at her. She was touching her bicep, smoothing a hand over the material of her suit jacket.
Something twisted in Ash’s gut, her hand tightening on her own glass in a flash of anger.
It wasn’t fair, she knew that. Emilia owed her nothing. They weren’t together. Ash had dated since they’d been together.
Was this what it would be like? Watching other women smile at Shepard, other women touch her, other women make her smile, while Ash grit her teeth for the sake of friendship, left with maybes and could have beens?
She needed more of this free champagne.
When she looked back at Pacwanar, the batarian man was smiling, almost gently.
“Dracor,” Ash said suddenly, “you and Ra’elok-” His expression wasn’t exactly forbidding, but it wasn’t open, so she hurried on, “I’m sorry that he wasn’t the person you thought he was.”
“Thank you,” he said, looking away, “and I hope she is who you think she is.”
Shepard scowled at herself in the mirror, fingers tugging her tie straight. The suit was a sombre black, the shirt a clean white, bright against her dark skin. She’d admit she looked good in it - thin red gleaming scars along her jaw and cheekbones aside, but she still felt the slow burn of frustration in her gut. She didn’t want to know how much the Councillor’s office had spent on it so she could ‘look good’ for a goddamn party.
Why couldn’t she just wear her dress uniform? Hell, why didn’t they just leave her alone with her paperwork?
It just - felt wrong, to go eat finger foods and drink champagne with the rich and the powerful like there weren’t millions of people fighting for their lives at this very moment. Like there weren’t millions of things she needed to be doing.
Her omnitool buzzed and she glanced down at her wrist.
Meet me at the bar. Got some rich industrialist here who wants to meet you. -Ash.
Shepard sighed and turned away from the mirror, leaving the bathroom to emerge into the packed ballroom. She smiled until her face hurt, murmuring quick hellos to those who spoke to her, forcing down the irritation as the noise buzzed around her and people touched her.
She'd never used to be this irritable. She’d known the role she was supposed to play, and played it. One of those things Cerberus hadn't got quite right, perhaps.
Ashley was standing by the bar with a willowy asari - vaguely familiar as the CEO of a large shipbuilding firm. She looked - well, when Shepard had first seen her in that black dress that showed off her long legs and shoulders, a cut out in the back revealing the sweep of her spine, Shepard had honest to God tripped over her words. And considering Ash was her ex-girlfriend and now her Spectre partner, she'd briefly considered jumping out the nearest window.
Ash had just brushed it off.
Once upon a time she would've given Shepard that sly smirk of hers, told her to do something about it. But they weren't together anymore.
"Captain," Ash smiled, her eyes softening at the sight of her, "this is Myera T'Cae. She was just wanting to get your opinion on a few things."
"Of course," Shepard said smoothly, stepping in and shaking the asari's hand. "How can I help?"
Ten minutes into the conversation, Ash murmured that she needed another drink.
"Mind getting me a scotch?"
"No problem, Skipper," Ash said easily. Shepard watched her walk away, crossing her arms.
"I imagine you two would much rather be off alone than speaking to me," T'Cae said with a smile, "I remember young love."
"I- it's not like that," Shepard said, rubbing the back of her neck.
The asari's glance was disbelieving, but she asked another question about the war effort - a question she'd much rather answer than one about her goddamn love life, or lack thereof. Udina wanted to carve her up for public consumption, but it would never be something she’d enjoy.
When Ash came back, she was carrying two glasses of scotch. She handed one to Shepard, their fingertips brushing.
Shepard really wondered when her libido had decided to get so out of control. She and Ash had done far more things than simply touch hands, but she felt warmth where they'd brushed. Ridiculous.
A drink later and several insightful answers from her fellow Spectre, it appeared T'Cae was done. She smiled at them both, purple lips and bright white teeth. "I'll send you an email about what we've discussed, Captain Shepard, but if you'll both excuse me, I believe my bondmate wishes to dance."
"Of course. Thanks for talking with us."
T'Cae swept off in a flurry of flowing, floor-length gown.
"Hey, Skipper?"
When Shepard looked over, the other woman was smiling. Her hair was for once out of its customary bun, tumbling down her shoulders in soft brown waves. Shepard wanted to thread her hands through it, press her lips to her bare shoulder.
"Yeah?"
"Can I have this dance?"
The music had shifted to something gentler, slower. There was a lump in Shepard's throat.
"You know I can't dance."
Ash shrugged, "Just follow my lead. Trust me."
After a moment Shepard took her outstretched hand.
Shepard had never been a particularly good dancer, something that had always kind of endeared Ash - that someone who usually moved with grace and finesse had absolutely no sense of musical rhythm. But it was worth the occasional stumble or trodden on foot for this: Shepard’s hand on her waist, hers on her shoulder.
Her touch was warm through the thin material of Ash’s dress and there was a glint in her dark eyes that said she saw the funny side.
“My abuela tried, bless her,” Shepard said after one missed step, “but alas.”
The image of Rosa Alves dancing with her two-left-footed granddaughter made Ash smile. God, she hoped Shepard’s abuelos were okay. Even after the funeral they’d tried to keep in touch, even just by email, and it’d been comforting, in those days of secret grief, to talk to someone who’d known what Emilia had been to her.
“Well, you couldn’t be good at everything. Just so long as you don’t make me watch Space Truckers later.”
“What, you’re not interested in hydrogen freighters?”
“Not particularly,” Ash said dryly.
“Blasto then?”
She groaned.
Shepard smiled at her and for a moment, Ash’s damn breath caught. She’d always liked Shepard’s smile - her real smile, not the half smirk or the fake one she put on when required. The one that showed a glimpse of the woman underneath the armour.
Directed at her - it, well, it reminded Ash of those days in the Normandy’s cargo bay, cleaning guns and talking. The first few times Shepard had let her see Emilia.
It reminded Ash of why it was so damned hard to get over Shepard.
“Picky, are we?”
“Well,” she said, smoothing her hand across Shepard’s shoulder to straighten her collar, “I have standards, Skipper.”
“High ones, apparently.”
“I’m not sure ‘better than Blasto and Space Truckers’ counts as having high standards, Shepard. I am a Marine, after all.”
Shepard laughed, and Ash looked at her. She knew, right then, if she’d still had any doubts about whether she was still in love with her, those were gone now.
The fear was still there, lurking underneath the warmth and the affection. Alchera had ripped her open, left her treading water for years. What would losing Shepard a second time do to her?
But how many people would kill for this second chance? To have the love of their life come back from the dead?
Here, just centimetres from her, smiling at her.
“My apartment isn’t far. I think I’ll just walk,” Ash said, turning to face Shepard. Around them, the crowd of the fortunate was filtering out of the casino in an endless parade of colourful dresses and suits.
Shepard had her hands clasped behind her back, like she was about to go on parade. God, the suit looked good on her, but Shepard gave away her discomfit in the tension of her shoulders, the way her eyes snapped to anyone who came close to their space.
“I’ll walk you?” she offered.
Ash raised an eyebrow, amused, “It’s the Presidium, Shepard.”
And then she thought that maybe Shepard wanted to spend time with her and wanted to kick herself. Good job, Williams.
“It’d make me feel better,” Shepard said, dead-serious, and goddamnit, her sincerity was like a punch to the gut.
Ash looked away and cleared her throat. The water of the lake gleamed, shattering the light that spilt from the casino. “Sure.”
It was a ten minute walk and they spent the first five minutes walking in silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable, exactly, but Ash felt very aware of Shepard beside her, the distance between their arms. The Presidium was dimmed for the night cycle, the lights that lit up the walkways shattering on the water of the lake.
Ash shot a look at Shepard, who kept glaring at anyone that came anywhere near them.
Between the dance and watching someone else flirt with Emilia, she knew she had to do something. Just had to work out to put into words the whole ‘I’m still in love with you, the world is ending, wanna try again?’
Pity none of her favourite poets had written that out for her.
They paused in front of Ash’s apartment building. Shepard crossing her arms.
“Thanks for coming,” Shepard said quietly, “I’ve never enjoyed that dog and pony show shit, but tonight was tolerable.”
“Gee, thanks, Skipper,” she laughed.
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah.” She didn’t want it to end just yet. They had so much to talk about. “Do you want to come up? I have some cachaça and scotch.”
Shepard’s expression didn’t change, but she studied Ash for a second before she nodded. “Just the one. Work tomorrow.”
“Pity the Reapers don’t have any respect for the five day work week.”
They took the elevator up to Ash’s floor.
“This is me,” she said - very unnecessarily gesturing at her door. Shepard had been here before after all, but thinking of that was a bad idea. Not the tears or the argument, but Shepard’s hands on her skin, how it’d felt to finally have her back in her bed.
A bad idea, with Shepard so close to her that she could feel the heat of her body.
“Tonight was -” Shepard began.
“Good,” Ash finished.
“Yeah.” Emilia’s gaze was intense, locked on her in the way that had always made her feel like the only person in the galaxy. Like she was really being seen. And then she looked away, lifting her chin like she was steeling herself. “I should go.”
She stepped back and Ash reacted. Before she could overthink it, her hands were on the lapels of Shepard’s suit jacket, halting her - pulling her closer. For a moment they existed in each other’s space.
“Ash,” she murmured, something strangely vulnerable on her face.
“I’m so tired of holding myself back from you,” she whispered into the air between them.
Shepard made a sound like a gasp and then they collided - Shepard’s mouth was insistent but soft on hers, one of her hands on Ash’s hip, the other pressed to the bare skin between her shoulder blades. Her skin burned under her touch.
Thank God for this dress, she thought, tangling her fingers in Shepard’s black curls and deepening the kiss. Shepard made a noise into her mouth and then pressed closer, closer - until her back hit her front door, and Shepard was against her, all lean muscle and coiled intensity.
It was all too easy to get lost in kissing her - in learning Shepard all over again - but then Shepard’s hand slipped when bracing herself against the door and hit the door’s biolock. The lock beeped indignantly, startling them both. Shepard pulled back - but not too far, because of Ash’s hands in her hair, on her jacket- and after a breathless moment they both laughed.
Still laughing, Shepard pressed her face into Ash’s shoulder. Ash’s chest tightened and she ran her hand gently through her hair.
God, she thought, I’ve missed you.
She let out a breath when Shepard turned her head and pressed her lips to Ash’s neck.
“We should go inside,” Ash said. She wanted Shepard. She wanted to rediscover her all over again. She wanted to stop holding back.
Shepard pulled back, conflict flaring up in her brown eyes. “Ash, I-”
Stung, she straightened, “Do you not want this?”
Shepard swallowed, her eyes flicking down to Ash’s lips, “You know I do. It’s always been you, Ash.”
“Damn,” she breathed out, “you sure know how to sweep a girl off her feet, Shepard.”
Shepard smiled before sobering, “I can’t do this with you if it - doesn’t mean something, Ash.”
“Shepard,” she said, a little patiently, “you’re the last person I’d have a one night stand with.”
“Should I be offended by that-?”
Ash felt down the door to the lock and opened the door with one hand, tugging on Shepard’s tie with the other. They stumbled back into her apartment. As soon as the door closed, she wrapped her arms around Emilia’s neck and pulled her close, kissing her again, urgently, Shepard’s hands going back to her hips.
“God,” Shepard murmured in between kisses, “when I saw you in that dress-”
Ash found Shepard’s tie and pulled it off, tossing it over her shoulder as Shepard kissed along her jaw, down her neck.
Ashley pushed at her jacket until the other woman stepped back, reluctantly, to toss it onto the couch, and then Ash was pulling her close again. Part of her felt like she could kiss Emilia Shepard for an eternity.
Most of her wanted her naked and in her bed as soon as possible.
She pulled impatiently at Shepard’s shirt until she could get it open and smooth her hands over her muscled abdomen, muscle twitching under her touch. Shepard sighed softly, her palm sliding up and down Ash’s side, over the sleek material of her dress.
“Does it bother you?” Shepard asked quietly.
Ash raised an eyebrow, “What?”
“The scars.”
There were a few raw, red scars stretching along her ribs and across her hip. Ash gently brushed one with her thumb.
“It bothers me because they bother you. But God, I want you, okay? Don’t doubt that.”
Shepard smiled, eyes soft, “I needed to hear that.”
“I want…”
“Anything you want…” Shepard said softly. She’d let her guard down, let Ash back in, and it made Ash feel strangely protective of her. Not in spite of Shepard’s strength, but because of it. She wanted Shepard to be able to put down some of the weight she’d been carrying for so long.
“Now, that’s a dangerous promise, Skipper,” Ashley smirked to cover the weight in her chest, pressing a kiss to Shepard’s jaw.
“Have a lot of ideas, huh?”
Ash chuckled, her breath washing over Shepard’s pulse point, “So many. This couch. The bed. The shower. Maybe even that rug.”
She laughed and cupped Ash’s face, pulling her into another kiss.
“Unzip me?” Ashley asked when their lips parted, and Shepard nodded, swallowing. She turned, enjoying the feel of Emilia’s eyes on her. Shepard brushed her hair over her shoulder and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of her neck - to the scar there, where they’d put the neural splint in. And then she slowly, teasingly, drew down her zipper.
Ash let her dress fall to the ground and stepped out of it, kicking off her heels. When she turned, Emilia was looking at her with dark, hungry eyes. She was a damned good sight, hair mussed and shirt open, muscled shoulders and abs on display. Her body, honed into a weapon, but all soft skin and firm muscle when Ash touched her. When she let Ash do things like grab her by the back of the neck, pull her back into a kiss that was soft lips with a hint of teeth, and all want.
They kissed again and again, hands wandering. Relearning, coming home.
Somehow they stumbled their way towards the bed and then onto it, separating only to remove what was left of their clothing - and the four guns and three knives they’d been wearing between them.
Then Shepard was hovering over her, light gleaming on her dark skin, one hand smoothing over the sensitive skin of her thigh, and her mouth was on Ash’s neck, then nipping at her shoulder and then trailing kisses across the tops of her breasts. Warmth wrapped around one nipple, tongue swirling, and Ash didn’t try to smother the noise it pulled out of her, running her nails over Shepard’s scalp.
Shepard’s hips shifted at the sound and suddenly all of it - all that longing, a night spent trying not to stare too openly at Shepard in that damned suit, her moment of jealousy, and now all the damned teasing - was too much. She grabbed Shepard’s hand by the wrist and pushed it down, until her fingers were between her legs, almost where she needed her.
Shepard released her nipple with a pop and a soft groan when she felt her, “God.”
“I’ve been wanting you to touch me all night,” she admitted. It was easy to be brave when Shepard looked at her like that - eyes nearly black and admiring.
“Fuck.”
“That’s kinda the idea, Skipper,” Ash laughed, a little breathless, and shifted her hips, biting her lip at the jolt of pleasure when Shepard’s finger bumped against her clit.
Shepard huffed a laugh and then finally - finally, she was pressing into Ash with two fingers. She paused for a moment as if to check it was alright, and Ash ran her hands along Shepard’s muscled back, holding on, saying without words yes. And then she was moving, fingers curling and her mouth back on Ash’s breasts, sucking and nipping.
Until Ash grabbed her by the hair and pulled her back up for another kiss. She wasn’t going to last long, not after tonight, not after they’d spent so long apart, not when Shepard still knew what got her going. She breathed Shepard in, the scent of her cologne and military soap.
“Always so assertive,” Shepard murmured.
“And don’t forget it - fuck,” she broke off as Shepard’s thumb pressed against her clit.
“You’d never let me,” Shepard’s breath was warm on her cheek.
“Never,” she agreed breathlessly, arching her hips into Shepard’s touch, “More.”
“I guess I did say whatever you want,” Emilia said smugly, and oh, Ash was going to wipe that smirk off her face, but whatever she was going to say was driven right out of her head when Shepard did just what she asked. Another finger, a faster pace, until she was grabbing at Emilia’s back and hair, hooking a knee around her hip.
“Emilia,” she gasped out into the air between them. She couldn’t let go of her. If she let go of her, she’d be back in those awful two years, waking up in an empty bed -
“I’m here, cariño,” Shepard murmured in reply, “I’m here.” Her thumb was back, circling with just the right pressure that Ash liked.
Something that was half pleasure, half relief washed over her. She buried her face in Shepard’s neck with a choked moan, hand fisting in short back hair, fingers digging into a muscled back. She was here. She was really here and in Ash’s arms where she belonged.
Shepard waited until she’d released her tight grip to pull out, kissing her gently when she shivered. She fell half across Ash then, warm skin and corded muscle, curling their bodies together and pressing urgent kisses to her shoulder and collarbone.
Her voice was fervent against Ash’s skin, “I love you, Ash, I love you.”
Ash caught Shepard’s chin with her hand and guided her into a kiss. For a moment they melted into each other, but she could feel the tension in Shepard’s body, the desperation in her kiss. Shepard had always been so controlled, so giving. Ash had delighted in finding ways to break that reserve.
She broke the kiss, pushing on Shepard’s shoulder until she was flat on her back. “I love you too. I’m sorry if you doubted that.”
She’d sounded so lonely when she’d told Ash about her time with Cerberus.
Shepard shook her head, her hands going to Ash’s bare hips. “It’s not your fault.”
Maybe it wasn’t really about fault. Maybe it was just trying to patch each other back up after what the galaxy had done to them.
She leant down and pressed her lips to Shepard’s collarbone, the thin cybernetic scars across her shoulder and bicep. Kissed her everywhere. Dark nipples, the curve of her breasts, the muscles of her stomach that trembled under Ash’s tongue. The still red scars on her torso from that fucker who’d tried to kill her. She lingered on those with peppered kisses.
Shepard made a soft noise that might have been her name. Ash hummed in response, trailing her kisses down to nip at her belly. Shepard’s breathing caught, and she shifted under Ash’s touch.
“Taking your time?” she asked hoarsely.
Ash nipped again before pressing a smile into her skin. “Getting impatient, are we?”
“Ash,” she drew her name out.
“You said whatever I wanted,” she smirked, smoothing her hands along Shepard’s thighs, enjoying the shudder it drew out of her, the hitched breath.
“That’s gonna come back to bite me, isn’t it?”
She grinned up at her. “Only if you want it to.”
“I want you.”
Ash pressed a kiss to the inside of one muscled thigh. “You have me.”
Then she dipped her head and Shepard’s voice cracked into a moan. It’d been a while since she’d done this, but she remembered how Shepard liked it - alternating firmer strokes of her tongue with teasing, softer touches until Shepard‘s vaunted control cracked and she was moving her hips and clutching at the bedsheets.
She’d forgotten how intoxicating it was to have Emilia Shepard surrender to her, all that fire and power and resolve, a woman who made the whole galaxy shift out of her way bending to her and her touch.
Shepard was here - real and alive and hers.
Shepard was already almost there, by the tension coiling in her body, the noises she was making. There’d be time for slow, later. Right now, they’d been apart far too long. When she felt the body underneath her tense in a familiar way, though, she backed off a bit, back to soft flutters of her tongue.
“Ash - c’mon, fuck. Please-”
There it was. She sucked, digging her fingertips into Shepard’s thigh, as the other woman’s hips stuttered underneath her. Familiar blue light sheeting over dark skin, tingling wherever Ash was touching her. Emilia Shepard letting go was a beautiful sight.
Afterwards, they lay curled up together in soft silence for a good twenty minutes, Ash’s head pillowed on Shepard’s thigh, Shepard running her fingers through the length of her hair. The sound of her breathing was comforting.
They both had a lot to do tomorrow, but falling asleep meant the night was over. She wanted to talk, to make love to her again. Keep her here, in this bedroom where the rest of the galaxy didn’t matter.
Shepard sighed suddenly and Ash looked up at her. Shepard’s expression was stormy, her eyes fixed on the window. Through the glass the lights of the ward towers and sky car traffic glittered.
It would be easy to forget the war here.
“What’s that look on your face for?” Ash asked softly.
“I…” Shepard didn’t meet her gaze, “I’m not sure this was the best idea.”
Ash sat up abruptly. “What do you mean?”
“Just with - everything you said, last time we talked about this and the night we were together before I went after the Collectors. I broke your heart, Ash.”
“You died,” Ash touched her cheek, “that wasn’t your fault. You can’t blame yourself for your own murder.”
“I could have worn my amp, I could have-”
“Emilia, look at me.” Their eyes met, Shepard’s expression caught halfway between grief and guardedness, “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I can’t promise it won’t happen again,” Shepard whispered.
Ash breathed through the painful twisting in her chest. “I know. We’re both Marines in the biggest war the galaxy has ever seen. We both know what that means. And…” she shook her head. “If Leng had killed me, would that not have hurt you?”
“Of course it would have,” Shepard swallowed, looking away.
“I meant what I said at the door. I’m tired of holding myself back from you. Us not being together isn’t going to save either of us from pain. It’s just making us miserable.”
“You’d moved on, I just came back and ruined everything-”
Ash’s patience snapped. She straddled Shepard’s thighs, grabbing her face between her two hands. Shepard cut off, beautiful dark eyes wide. You kind, stubborn idiot.
“I don’t need a martyr,” she said sternly, “I don’t need you to protect me. We had something important three years ago, something worth fighting for.” She stroked her thumb across Emilia’s cheek. “I love you, Emilia Shepard. I never stopped.”
“I love you too,” Shepard trailed a hand up her back.
“Then let me love you.”
Shepard leaned forward and kissed her gently, sweetly. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah.” Shepard brushed a strand of hair out of Ash’s face. “Have dinner with me?”
Ash drew back slightly, studying her face, “Like…a date? Like normal people.”
They’d never really gone on dates, had they? Downside of a forbidden romance.
Shepard smiled slightly, “Something like that.”
“Okay,” she pressed a kiss to Shepard’s cheek, “a date. We can do that. Stay tonight?”
Shepard nodded.
Shepard woke to the urgent pinging of an omnitool.
“That’s yours,” Ash mumbled. The other woman was pressed to her back, face smushed against her shoulder blade and her arm around her waist, their legs entangled.
Shepard reached over and found the band of her omnitool on Ash’s bedside table and answered - voice only. By the time on her omnitool, they’d slept a good seven hours.
“Captain Shepard speaking.”
“Captain, it’s Wulandri. Urdnot Wrex wishes to speak to you immediately. He said it’s time sensitive.”
Sleep fled from her and she was suddenly wide awake. “Did he give any details?”
“No, ma’am. Said your ears only, and to make it quick.”
“I’ll be back at the ship ASAP.”
“Aye, ma’am. I’ve taken the liberty of doing start-up procedures. Just in case.”
“Good.”
“Oh, and say hello to Williams for me?”
She blinked at her omnitool in surprise. Ash huffed a laugh against her skin and lifted her head. “Hey, Gema.”
“Hey, Ash. How’s things?”
“Oh, just great-”
“I’ll see you soon. Goodbye, Wulandri,” she hastily hung up.
Ash rolled onto her back, grinning.
Shepard sighed, but she couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Ash loose-limbed and beautiful and happy. She reached over and brushed her cheek with her palm. Ash pressed into the touch.
“I don’t want to go,” she admitted. She wanted to stay in this moment.
Ash leant up and kissed her, chastely, softly. “I know.”
She didn’t say that she had to go - they both knew Shepard would. Just as they both knew Ash couldn’t come with her yet, not when she was still recovering.
“I love you.”
Saying that felt like relief.
“I love you too.”
Hearing it back felt like coming home, like getting a piece of herself back that Alchera had stolen.
Now Shepard just had to get back onto her ship without the entire diplomatic delegations of three species seeing her come back in the same clothes she’d left in last night.
Chapter 18: Descent
Chapter Text
“You bring me to the nicest places, Captain,” Joker drawled, looking through the viewing port down at the swirling brown atmosphere of Utukku. It was one of those garden planets that barely deserved the title, with little water, violent weather - and to top it off it was in what once had been rachni space. The Ninmah Cluster was more or less devoid of life except a couple of listening posts, a nest of horrors turned into a silent tomb - if you were going to be poetic about it.
“We’ve been to worse places,” Shepard said mildly. She was in her armour sans guns, webbing, and helmet.
Well, yeah. Not much could be worse than the Collector Base. Still. “The whole cluster is creepy.”
Shepard ignored him. “How far out are we?”
Killjoy. “Forty minutes before we’re in position to launch the shuttle. You’re meeting krogan special forces?”
“Something like that. Grunt is leading them.”
He blinked. “Someone put Grunt in charge of people?”
“Wrex is grooming him for military command in Urdnot. He’s smarter than you give him credit for - he just had to learn how to use his head as more than a battering ram.”
“You sound almost proud,” Joker said slyly, “your little boy all grown up?”
Shepard rolled her eyes. “I’m always proud of subordinates who fulfil their promise, Joker. And of friends who do the same.”
“Uh huh.”
For a moment, comfortable silence fell between them. There was a low murmuring of voices from the CIC as the crew worked, but the cockpit was just him, Shepard and EDI for the moment.
“So…you and Williams made up.”
It hadn’t been hard to work out, with Shepard coming back in the same clothes, no matter the way she’d strode through the CIC, discouraging any commentary through sheer confidence.
“Joker,” there was a warning tone in Shepard’s voice when she looked at him, frowning.
“What, is it a secret?”
Shepard sighed. “It’s not a secret. I think everyone and their grandmother knows far too much about my personal life these days.”’
For a woman who’d rather they’d forget she was human half the time, that must have rankled. “I’m guessing Williams did some serious apologising.”
The frown was back and she tilted her head to look at him. “That wasn’t necessary. We were both in a difficult situation.”
Right. “Mhm.”
Shepard was looking at him with those too keen eyes of hers. “Something happened between you two. You were friends on the SR-1.”
He grimaced. “That’s between us.”
“It is,” Shepard agreed, “but she’s a part of my life, Joker. I hope as a friend, you’ll accept that. And as an officer, I expect you won’t talk shit about another officer in front of the crew.”
He tugged on his hat. “Message received.”
She studied him for a moment longer before she nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Thanks, Joker.” She looked over at the soft blue of EDI’s hologram. “EDI, announce flight quarters, please.”
The familiar order echoed across the 1MC in EDI’s smooth voice. “Flight quarters, flight quarters, set condition 1-alpha for flight operations…”
The shuttle hummed as it dropped towards the surface of Utukku, crammed full with Shepard, Garrus, Liara, Beaumont, the platoon corpsman, Chief Hospitalman Nataliya Kovalenko, and a full squad of Marines. Shepard was standing, helmet already sealed, staring at one of the camera feeds.
“Remember,” Vega called back to the Marines, “not a word of this to anyone, on pain of scrubbing the decks with a toothbrush for a month.”
Dressler elbowed Watts, sitting next to him. “Hear that? We’re gonna know something spikebutts don’t.”
Watts just nodded. Shepard didn’t know the young Marine all too well yet, but she suspected he was nervous.
“Could it really be rachni?” Liao looked nervous, fiddling with her machinegun, “Aren’t they supposed to be all dead?”
They were, except Shepard had made the merciful choice three years ago and now the galaxy might pay the price. She felt Garrus’ eyes on her, expression thoughtful. He and Wrex had been united, back then, in the opinion that she should have killed the last queen.
“We don’t have confirmation of anything yet,” Shepard said, “but be prepared.”
“Oorah,” Dressler said.
“Even if it is the rachni,” Watts opined, “They’ll die like any other organic.” But he didn’t look convinced.
“Hopefully we won’t need to uplift a whole new species for that,” Corporal Schaper drawled, double checking the fastening of his grenades launcher pouches.
“Just shoot them a lot and we’ll be fine,” Garrus flicked his mandibles, amused. She knew his calm and joking was meant to put the Marines more at ease. “Remember how much the little ones scared Tali?”
Shepard smiled behind her visor. “Kaidan told me he thought she was about to jump into his arms or something, yelling about spiders.”
“Five mikes out, ma’am,” Cortez called back, “Aralakh Company is already here and has established a perimeter.”
“The fabled Aralakh Company…” Dressler whistled. “This is gonna be interesting.”
Watts was intently focusing on his rifle.
“They were very impressive against batarian troops,” Liara observed. “And their success despite being a mixed-clan unit appears to be helping Wrex get his reforms of the krogan military through.”
Krogan saving colonies from pirates. Things really were changing.
“If you’d told me three years ago Wrex would be playing politician…”
The shuttle nosed up, thrusters flaring.
“One mike,” Cortez called back. Vega and Hohepa stood up. The rest of the Marines followed suit.
Shepard glanced at her HUD to triple-check her suit was all green. Garrus stepped closer to her and she tilted her head questioningly.
He lowered his voice, amusement in his dual-toned voice, “I got an order, you know, from a certain Spectre.”
“Oh?”
“She said and I quote ‘you better watch her six, Vakarian, or I’ll kick your bony ass.’
Shepard couldn’t help the little smile that curved her lips.
The shuttle shuddered slightly as it settled down and the doors folded outwards. The Marines and two attaches piled out into the sand, fanning out into a loose circle. Almost as soon as Vega turned towards the cockpit and gave Cortez a thumbs-up, the shuttle was lifting off again. Cortez would ferry down the other two Marine squads shortly.
The plan was that Aralakh would provide the main effort with one of her Marine squads as a scouting element and the other two as the reserves.
The krogan camp was perched on the edge of a cliff, consisting of a handful of prefab shelters surrounded by hastily dug fighting positions and strings of wire. The krogan soldiers she could see watching them were far from uniform, with differing equipment and clan colours, but most were wearing the same symbol - a stylised, burning eye to represent the Eye of Wrath the company was named after.
As they made their way over towards the camp, a grey-armoured figure detached from the others, striding towards them.
“Shepard!” Grunt shouted, shoving two of his soldiers out of the way.
“Grunt,” she grinned, stepping forward, and he seized her arm so enthusiastically she was a little worried he’d pull it off.
“Heard those fools locked you up,” he said, looking past her at the blue-armoured Marines. Beaumont was eying the huge krogan with trepidation.
“Well, they've promoted me now. And look at you - got your own command. Captain Urdnot Grunt, huh?”
He nodded. “Wrex wants to show integrated units of multiple clans - strength through unity. This company is formed from the best warriors Tuchanka has to offer. We have proven ourselves every time Urdnot Wrex has thrown us into the toughest missions.”
“And they’ve accepted you?” Some krogan didn’t like his origins as a clone. She didn’t doubt Grunt’s effectiveness in battle, though she’d still been hammering in lessons about using his head as more than a battering ram. Wrex had done some sculpting of his own once the young krogan had returned to Tuchanka, it seemed.
“Heh,” he glanced over his shoulder, ”it wasn’t easy. When Wrex put me in command, there were a few who disagreed. But I am the strongest, and I put them back in line.”
He smiled a toothy, predator’s smile.
Well, perhaps he’d still been using his head as a battering ram.
“You were a pain in my ass, Grunt,” she said with her own grin, “but if your soldiers are half the fighter you are, the Reapers won’t know what hit them.”
“Or the rachni. The old enemy…”
Before he could get too lost in that possibility, she asked, “Have you seen any sign of the scouts?”
“Just their vehicles. A couple of my recon teams have scouted two entrances into the cave system, but they met some husks. Pulled them out - I think we’ll need to go in force.”
“I agree. Show me your maps and let’s get this show on the road.”
Ashley groaned, splashing her face and then glancing at her reflection in her bathroom mirror. She’d always enjoyed physical exercise, but rehab was another beast entirely. An irritating one- fighting the body she’d honed for over decade to do small things and failing. She kept reminding herself that she was lucky. She wasn’t dead.
But she saw the news and thought about Shepard out there and sent emails to her mother and Jaz Teke that were never read. Then, all she could think about was getting back into the fight.
She dried her face and walked out into the lounge room. Sarah was on the couch, staring at the blank HV screen.
“Interesting vid?” Ash asked dryly, heading towards the kitchen to grab a drink. She didn’t really feel like cooking and she doubted that Sarah would want to either. She’d have to order them something to eat soon.
“The news came on,” Sarah said quietly, “and I just couldn’t listen to it anymore.”
Ash pulled the tab of her soda and went to sit beside her. Still couldn’t drink due to the meds. “Yeah.”
Nothing good on the news right now. Just the kind of devastation that murdered a bit of your soul a little more each time.
“I just don’t get it,” Sarah looked over at her, “why you’re so eager to go back to war when so many people are dying. I know the Eden Prime War really affected you - I heard Ma and Abby talking about it once.”
Ash took a sip of her drink, trying to think of what to say. “You said I didn’t talk to you, and I guess that’s true. I’m your big sister, I’ve always wanted to protect you.”
“I’m not a little kid anymore, Ash.”
“I know, and I’m - sorry.” And she was. “The war - it’s gonna suck out there. I know that. The last one sucked too. I’ve lost a lot of friends and I’ll probably lose more. But this war needs to be won and I also know I’m good at what I do. I can make a difference, even if it’s small, and right now? Right now I feel powerless while my friends risk their lives.”
Sarah leant over and burrowed into Ash’s side like she had when she was ten and had climbed into Ash’s bed after a nightmare. Ash put her drink down and put her arm around her, giving her a squeeze.
“I’m just really worried,” Sarah whispered, “about you going back, about Thomas and Mum and our sisters.”
“I know, Sar.”
“I’m sorry for getting upset with Shepard.”
Ash gave her another squeeze. “She didn’t take it personally.”
“I’d like to meet her properly, next time she’s on the Citadel. Especially now you two are…”
“Back together?” Ash smiled. “I’d like that.” She wanted Sarah to know the real Emilia Shepard - not just the hero or the demon the media made her out to be or the role she played for the public. If Ash was honest with herself, she wanted them to like each other.
“You know,” Sarah said, her tone suddenly faux innocent, “I probably should have seen it back in ‘83.”
Ash gave her sister a suspicious look. “Why’s that?”
“When you called home it was always ‘Shepard this, Shepard that’. I thought you were just admiring her professionally but really you were admiring her a-”
“Sarah!” Ash laughed, shoving at her shoulder. “I wasn’t that bad.”
“Oh, you were. Was there pining? Was there charged sparring?” At the flush rising in Ash’s cheeks, Sarah grinned victoriously, “There was. And you told me that the Space Patrol fanfiction I was reading was inaccurate.”
Ash groaned. Giggling, Sarah flung her arm around her. Even if it was at Ash’s expense, it was nice to see her smiling again.
Of course, that was when her omnitool had to start pinging. With a sigh, she untangled herself and accepted the call.
“Williams speaking.”
Udina’s nasally voice came over the comm. “Williams, it’s Councillor Udina. I need you at the tower as soon as possible.”
Even Spectres had to jump when Councillors demanded, no matter how much she personally disliked Udina. Especially since right now she was technically on his staff. “Understood, Councillor. I’ll be right there.”
“Good.” He hung up. Asshole.
She stood up, “Sorry, Sar. Just use my chit to order some pizza or something, okay?”
That anxious look was back on Sarah’s face. “Okay. Be safe.”
The tunnel snaked out of sight, dark, dim and foreboding. Garrus peered into it and winced. This was going to be a problem.
“Night vision filters, everyone,” Shepard ordered.
“Dressler, Klein, take point,” Beaumont added.
“Keep an eye out for the scouts and call out anything unusual.”
“Aye, aye.”
The two men stalked forward, rifle and machine gun shouldered. Dressler tapped Klein on the shoulder. “On you, Corp.”
Behind the two younger Marines, Garrus blinked at his HUD to engage his night vision filter. Everything faded into ghostly greens and blacks. There was a moment of hesitation, a moment of healthy self preservation about going into a dark cave that was possibly full of rachni, and then they started off.
There was little conversation.
“Take it slow,” Garrus called to the pointmen when Klein stumbled. The cave system was likely hazardous on its own, even without possible enemy contact.
“Got it.”
They pressed forward, the silence only broken by footsteps and the hiss of a filter. Something skittered in the darkness ahead.
“Movement,” Dressler muttered, rifle tracking across the rock wall.
“What do you see?” Shepard asked.
“Just saw some movement out of the corner of my eye,” His voice was tense.
“Is that-” Liara stepped forward, peering into the dark, “is that webbing?”
“Careful,” Watts warned.
“I don’t think we should touch it - we don’t want anything to know we’re here.” Klein shifted from foot to foot.
“What’s that behind it?” the asari asked, stepping past Klein and leaning forward, careful not to touch the webbing. After a moment she recoiled, straightening. “It appears we’ve found the krogan scouts, Shepard - or at least one of them.”
There was a krogan corpse. The armour was breached, exposing gore, bone, and blood. There was a disgusting green-black ooze mixed in, and the flesh bubbled and steamed where it touched.
“What the fuck… Is that acid?”
“Like a shit horror flick…” Corporal Schaper said grimly, tensed against his shouldered rifle, eyes darting against the cavern’s walls.
“Looks like it,” Shepard said grimly and then keyed her mic. “Aralakh, this is Ranger. We’ve located a member of the scout platoon. KIA, over.”
“Understood,” Grunt’s voice was a low growl over the comm, “we just found the platoon leader. They were attacked and overwhelmed and he ordered them to carry weapons into the cave for us. If you see a flamethrower, grab it. They don’t need them anymore. Over.”
“Roger, Ranger out.”
“Grunt is all grown up and bossy,” Garrus observed.
“Seal helmets,” Beaumont said suddenly before looking at Shepard sheepishly, but she just nodded in approval. If they did use flamethrowers it’d rapidly deplete the oxygen inside the cave system.
They halted to allow the squad to follow the order. The helmets hissed into place and battle buddies checked each other. Garrus noted the dead krogan’s weapon - flung away from his body, either by himself or by his killer. He picked it up and showed it to Shepard.
“Ready to move,” Watts reported.
“Anyone here qualified on the M-451 Firestorm?” Shepard asked.
“Aye, ma’am,” said Dressler. “Didn’t think it’d ever come in handy though.”
Garrus handed the tubular flamethrower over to the Marine.
“Move out.”
They ventured further into the tunnel until they were blocked from going any further by webbing across their path.
Garrus flicked his mandibles, noticing the snaking of silver-blue cables along the floor. “Shepard - looks like Reaper tech.”
“Looks like it.”
“Jesus… All the way down here? The Reapers are everywhere already.” Watts sounded distressed at the revelation.
“This isn’t a trap… is it?”
“They want to keep us out,” Shepard said calmly - perhaps more calm than she felt. “No way around it - Dressler, bring the webbing down.”
That turned the mood around. Young soldiers of various species all tended to enjoy burning things down. “You got it,” he replied with glee. He took a moment to re-familiarise himself with the flamethrower, do his safety checks, and then it roared to life. Flame billowed out of the nozzle as he swept it in front of him.
The webs caught easily, burning like tinder. After a few moments, they had burned completely through, as if they had never been there. The only reminder that they ever were was the heat and scorch marks along the rock. “Let’s go, Klein.”
They emerged into a cavern, the ceiling far behind. There were a few streams of tepid, dark water, trickling along slick rock. And on one of the dryer, rocky outcroppings were dozens of leathery orbs. The only noise was that of the water and their footsteps.
Shoulder to shoulder, Dressler and Klein approached slowly. “What the hell are these?” Dressler looked over his shoulder, towards the Captain. “Want me to torch ‘em?”
“I think they’re eggs,” Liara said.
“You’re full of happy predictions at the moment, Liara,” Garrus muttered.
Liara ignored him.
“Well, looks like we need to go that way, so go ahead, PFC,” Shepard said.
“Oorah.” Again the glee entered his voice. And again, he made his flamethrower ready. This time, when the flames reached the wall, the eggs burst, and small, spider-like creatures emerged with high-pitched screeches.
Dressler jumped back but reignited the flames, chasing each of the small beasts down and burning them to death. “Fuck!”
One of them leapt at Klein, latching onto his arm. He made a noise very close to a shriek, flailing his arm, acid splattering onto the ceramic of his hardsuit. Garrus leapt forward and brought down the butt of his rifle, squishing it. The blow was hard enough Klein had to take a step back - and promptly fell off the outcrop.
Oops.
“Lance Corporal!” he called.
Klein groaned from where he was lying in the shallow water and then began climbing back to his feet.
“Alright, Klein?” Hohepa called.
“Yeah, yeah, just winded.”
Dressler had finished clearing the rest up. “We’re going to have to be careful - these things could be anywhere.”
Watts had jumped forward and was now trying to reach Klein to haul him back up. Chief Kovalenko was regarding the outcropping for a way down, muttering about being too old to jump down. She didn’t look even as old as Shepard to Garrus.
That’s when Garrus heard an all too familiar howl. “Contact! Husks!”
Across the cavern, a handful of husks were dashing towards the two men below the rest of them, blue eyes glowing in the darkness. Garrus sighted one through his scope and pulled the trigger. It tumbled to the ground, missing most of its head.
“Liara!” Shepard shouted and the asari didn’t need clarification. She glowed blue and flung out a hand, a singularity field popping into existence and dragging three of the husks into the air. Without pausing, Shepard hit it with her own biotic field, and the resulting detonation ripped the husks into bits.
Gunfire lit up Klein’s shields and Garrus quickly sighted the source.
“We got Cannibals and Marauders!”
Watts abandoned trying to rescue Klein and took a knee, bringing his rifle up and beginning to fire. Dressler had to put the flamethrower away, but he did the same. The other Marines followed.
Garrus shot a Cannibal in the chest. It stumbled and then the twisted thing got back up. Spirits, he hated how husks did that. A burst from Klein finished it off.
“More husks coming in from the right! Watch your flank, Watts!” Hohepa called over. It felt wrong not to go down and get more numbers around the two Marines, but that meant giving up the high ground.
“Got this, Sarn’t!” Adrenaline kicking in, Schaper leaped out from the rear, letting himself slide down against a rocky outcrop with a vantage point, armour scraping against jagged rock.
Mechanically, the corporal popped open his underbarrel launcher, swiftly sliding in a grenade. He aimed down the sights at the mess of blue glows and raspy growls down below.
“Frag out!”
A sharp thump and a flash rang out in the entire cave. The grenade had landed amidst rocks turned to shrapnel, tearing apart Reaper-augmented flesh caught in the blast. A few husks and a Cannibal now laid strewn about.
“Good job, Schaper!” Shepard shouted, sweeping a hand and bowling over another two husks with a wave of biotic energy. “Keep the pressure up!”
That was when four husks dropped out of an unseen tunnel worming through the rock above them and set on Lance Corporal Liao. She tried to get her Typhoon up, and when she couldn’t overpower the clawed hands, she dropped the LMG and went for her sidearm. A husk latched onto her faceplate and Kovalenko managed to shoot one at an oblique angle, but the rest were right on the Marine.
Garrus raised his rifle but there was no way to get a shot without risking hitting Liao.
Then Shepard was an elongated dash of biotic energy, slamming into the husks with a sound like a thunderclap and tossing them over like bowling pins. But they were climbing to their feet, and Garrus couldn’t get a Spirits-damned shot-
Shepard's barrier exploded away from her like a tidal wave, ripping two of the husks apart at the waist.
“Did you just use your barrier offensively?” Liara demanded over the din of gunfire.
Shepard laughed.
“Oh to be a grenade…” Schaper breathed out strenuously. The large Marine strode forward, and by sheer strength shoved a husk away, releasing a few quick bursts point blank into its chest.
Silence fell over the cavern, except for heavy breathing.
“Anyone hurt?” Hohepa called, “Check your ammo!”
“I’m fine,” Liao called, “just scratched a few of my plates, that’s all.”
Schaper gave her a pat and nod, handing her back the rifle lost in the commotion before going over to check on Dressler.
"I'm good," Dressler stuck a thumb up. "And I have spare 'sinks if anyone needs them."
"We're gonna need a hand," Watts called from down below, where he had Klein on his feet, one arm slung over Watts' shoulders.
“You two alright?” Hohepa asked, carefully climbing down towards them. Water sloshed with her movements.
Garrus busied himself with watching the numerous dark entrances into the cavern. His trigger talon was itching.
Klein was grim-faced, hand over his ribs, and blood dripping between his fingers.
"Puncture holes," Watts observed.
"I can still fight, Sergeant,” Klein said stubbornly, jaw set under his visor.
"Must have been one of those little ones,” Watts added.
Doc Kovalenko climbed her way down, slinging her rifle. “I’ll slap some medigel on it and he should be fine, ma’am.”
She pulled out a tube of medigel and started administering it, with a grumbled admonishment for Klein to stay still when he flinched away from her.
“Perimeter,” Shepard ordered, “Klein doesn’t need us all staring at him getting a bandaid.”
"Aye, aye." Watts turned around, took a few paces and dropped to a knee. Other Marines climbed down, taking it slow so as not to fall. They took up their positions, making a harbour with the Doc, Klein, and Shepard in the middle.
“Aralakh, this is Ranger. Ran into some contacts, but they’re dealt with. We’ll keep moving in a mike. Sitrep, over?”
“Found some dead scouts. We’re pushing forward, over.” Grunt’s voice was a growl over the radio.
“Copy. Ranger out.”
The kid was all grown up and acting like an officer, wonders never ceased. Garrus remembered when getting him to stay in cover was a whole process.
“All done, ma’am,” Kovalenko called over.
“Alright, let’s go-”
The whole cavern began to rumble, loud enough Garrus could barely think. Instinctually, he jumped closer to Shepard and Liara. Shepard was yelling something but it wasn’t audible over the cacophony. Purple light sheeted up and over the squad in a glowing orb in the moment before dust filled his vision.
When it cleared, Garrus coughing, they were all alive, Shepard’s hastily thrown up biotic shield having deflected a handful of rocks, but the entrance they’d come in was caved in.
“Oh fuck,” Lieutenant Beaumont said. To the point, that one.
"Well that's just fucking great," Dressler said miserably as he reignited the flamethrower. "I've got point."
As the young Marine stalked forward, he held the flamethrower at the cant so the flickering flame cast a small amount of light. Once again, there was an uneasy silence.
“There’s other exits,” Shepard said calmly, “and the rest of the crew wouldn’t leave us in here regardless.”
It would make evacuating any casualties decidedly difficult. Garrus kept that to himself. He stepped up beside Dressler to take point.
“I suggest we keep moving,” Liara said, peering down at one of the wider tunnels.
They crept forward in a staggered formation, night vision filters casting everything in ghostly green light. Garrus saw on some of the rock plateaus and walls more of the eggs. No mission was ever made better by weird alien eggs.
"Should I torch them?" Dressler muttered to the turian. "I don't want anymore nasty surprises."
“Not unless they start - uh, hatching again.” Using the flamethrower would rapidly deplete the oxygen in the cave system and if they were really stuck down here…
"What are we even going to find down here?"
“Urdnot Wrex’s scouts found something down here, something he thinks is related to the Reapers,” Shepard responded.
“An accurate assessment, given the presence of Reaper troops here,” Liara added.
“And those little bugs seem awfully familiar,” Garrus observed grimly. Modified, but familiar.
Shepard and Liara exchanged glances, before the asari murmured, “We shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”
In other words, they both thought he was right.
Schaper, not far behind Dressler and rifle up, offered a curled smile. "More like conclusions jumping at us."
"Well, I really don't like it," Dressler complained, keeping his voice low even though it was suppressed by the helmet. "And more than I usually don't-"
He stopped talking suddenly and stopped dead, peering deep into the darkness. "Contact."
There was something skittering around up ahead, quickly, but imperceptible in the shades of green of night vision. Garrus squinted.
The creature came crawling down the wall, all legs and dripping venom. It had been a rachni once, Garrus realised, in the moment he had to think anything at all, but it had been twisted and defiled into a misshapen creature with two cannons fused to its back.
Then the corridor exploded.
Codex Entry
Basic Combat Drills:
Excerpt from the Systems Alliance ‘Marine Warfighting Manual: Infantry Company Operations (MWM 2.1.1)
BREAK CONTACT
- Reasons to break contact include:
- The squad is under attack by an unknown sniper
- Orders are to avoid contact
- The squad is outnumbered or in a vulnerable position
- The enemy has overwhelming firepower, such as a crew served weapon
- Element leader announces intent to break contact via bounding overwatch. They designate a fireteam as a base of fire and a fireteam as the initial manoeuvre element.
- Base of fire take the best hasty position possible and begins laying fire on enemy. This is usually the fireteam currently in contact with the enemy.
- The manoeuvre fireteam move via rushes to the rear and take up positions. If possible, deploy smoke to conceal movement.
- On leader's command, base of fire displaces past supporting elements, which begin sustained firing until base of fire has established a new position.
- This process is repeated as necessary until friendly forces have successfully disengaged from enemy contacts.
Chapter 19: Labyrinth
Chapter Text
The tunnel was thick with choking dust. Shepard staggered backwards, grabbing at the nearest bodies she could find that were still upright and shoving them back. Liara, Lance Corporal Liao. The Doc.
“Cover! Get into cover!” Her ears were ringing. She could smell the metallic stench of blood. There’d been two rockets. Two rockets in an enclosed space- “Fuckin’ move!” She looked down the corridor, trying to spot her people who’d been ahead of her - Garrus and Dressler had been on point, and damn it, where were Beaumont and Schaper?
There were groans and shouts through the net. Up ahead, from the direction the rocket had come, the dust ignited and a flamethrower roared.
"Contact!" Dressler screamed. Another spurt of fire came from the weapon. "Contact!"
Someone nearby swore as metal and ceramic sprung to life, rushing forward towards the breach.
“Meideros!” Shepard shouted, “Rocket that fucker!”
That turned out to be unnecessary. The rachni husk screeched and flailed as the flames washed over it and after a tortuous minute it stopped moving, still burning. Shepard threw herself out of cover.
“Sound off,” she called, “is anyone hurt?”
She hadn’t been expecting that. She should have expected some kind of fucked up new surprise from the Reapers.
“Watts, I’m unharmed.” That was who had rushed forward and he was now standing just behind his friend, Dressler, who was slapping the side of his helmet.
Medeiros was quietly swearing a string of curses in Portuguese, her AT weapon in hand, but she stopped long enough to answer, “Meddy, unhurt.”
“Got a couple of scrapes,” Garrus called, “but I’m okay. But Beaumont is down, Shepard.”
She bit off her own profanities and jogged over, followed by Doc Kovalenko, who was unzipping her medbag. When they were standing over Beaumont, lying on the rocky floor of the cavern, however, Kovalenko shook her head.
She knelt and did a quick scan with her omnitool despite her clear doubt. The shrapnel had ripped through the lieutenant’s chest and throat, blood pooling under his still form. Shepard could see his eyes under his clear visor and they were glassy and wide open, unblinking. His face was practically the only untouched part of his upper body.
Kovalenko stood up. “He’s dead, ma’am.”
"I think everyone else is okay, ma'am," Watts said. He reached forward and touched Dressler's shoulder, who spun quickly and punched the other Marine. "The fuck, Dress?!"
"You scared the shit out of me! Sorry bro," Dressler shouted into the comms. "I can't hear a fucking thing - I think I'm deaf!"
Liao looked very pale under her visor, eyes stuck on the body. She looked like she might be sick.
Shepard sighed, turning away from Beaumont’s corpse. Poor kid. He’d been out of the academy, what, a few weeks? “We need to keep moving.”
“I’ll carry him,” Garrus said calmly, “there’s no telling if we’d be able to come back for him.”
She nodded. “We need to keep moving. Grab the ammo off him.”
Hohepa went and did that grim task herself, taking the lieutenant’s heatsinks and grenades.
Adamsen moved up, shuddering as he passed Beaumont's corpse. He didn't look at it for long. Even beneath the visor, it was clear that his emotions were in turmoil.
Watts tapped Dressler's helmet. "Go!"
Dressler turned his head. He responded to Watts' hand movement directing him onwards, and he once again raised the flamethrower, silently moving forward.
After Beaumont's death, the mood was dour.
“Aralakh, Ranger,” they moved out with Dressler and Watts now on point, Garrus bringing up the rear with Beaumont’s limp form over his shoulder, “we’ve encountered what look like rachni. Modified with heavy weapons. We’ve taken a KIA. Over.”
“Ranger, Aralakh. Yeah, we just ran into one ourselves. We’ll kill them all. Over.”
“Ranger out.”
“Why did they have to put cannons on rachni,” Liara sighed. “Weren’t they bad enough as they were?”
If it was possible, the mood worsened.
"I really didn't believe it would be real," Adamsen remarked. "Weren't the rachni made extinct thousands of years ago? That's why the krogan are even on our side."
Three years ago Shepard had strongly believed she didn’t have the right to condemn a species to extinction. Sins of the father never sat right with her. The decision didn’t feel particularly good in this moment, however.
A rachni queen could produce hundreds of children in months. If they were all converted - how many allied soldiers would die because of her mercy?
She shook the guilt off - the decision was three years made and she had a job to do. “Meideros, be ready to pull that rocket launcher out.”
Unfortunately, Meideros only had a single shot M-560 Cobra rocket launcher. Hopefully Dressler’s flamethrower would be enough once she shot it.
"Aye, aye, ma'am." Her voice was low, glum.
Nervously, Adamsen made another comment. "Is that even going to be enough?"
“They die like anything else, Adamsen,” she said calmly, “and once we find another tunnel, Vega will bring the rest of the platoon in.”
"Yes ma'am…" But he didn't sound convinced.
Unfortunately, finding a way out so the rest of the Marines could come in wasn’t so simple. EDI had scanned the cave complex with the Normandy’s sensor suite and came back with an unwelcome conclusion. There was a way out, but it meant going through the large central chamber in which the AI had detected multiple biological signatures.
Shepard bit down on the desire to start cursing as they moved carefully through the dank tunnels, stepping over a still smouldering husk, courtesy of PFC Dressler’s flamethrower.
“The majority of the bio signatures are in the eastern tunnels,” EDI added, “It may be possible for Aralakh Company to interdict them at the following location, blocking them from counter attacking when you enter the central chamber.”
That was some good news for her squad, though it spelt a bad time for Aralakh.
She hesitated before giving the order for a handful of seconds. It didn’t matter who Aralakh Company’s commander was, this was the only way for her element to reach the heart of the rachni nest and complete their mission.
Grunt, for his part, didn’t hesitate. “Understood, Ranger. We’ll hold them. Aralakh out.”
She turned to find Liara grimacing at a broad but shoulder height tunnel branching out from the cavern they were in. “What’s wrong?”
The asari straightened. “According EDI’s scans, this is the way into the ‘nest’.”
They’d have to move slowly and in pairs, crouching or even crawling.
Shepard sighed. “Of course it is.”
"Nest?" Adamsen whimpered.
Watts ignored him. "You want me and Dressler in first, ma'am?"
Shepard considered and then nodded. “Yes. Liara, Meideros, you’ll go after them. Take it nice and slow. Aralakh is still getting into position, so no need to rush it.”
"Roger." Watts tapped on Dressler's helmet again. The Australian turned, staring intently at his friend's face. "Alex! Your hearing back?"
"Kinda!"
"Alright, listen." Watts made gestures as he spoke, trying to convey the task to his deafened colleague. "We're in first. I'll take point and keep an ear out - if I call contact, I'll get out of the way. Make sure you wait until I'm behind you to fire that thing off. Oorah?"
Dressler grinned and stuck a thumb up. "No worries, mate." They inched forward, and ducked down.
"Ready?"
Dressler nodded, but turned around, looking for one of the other Marines. "Hey Li?"
Corporal Li, who’d been looking at Dressler with surprising intensity, raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”
"How does a duck pay for his chapstick?"
She blinked and then rolled her eyes, the corner of her mouth twitching. “How?”
"Tell ya when I get back." Then he tapped Watts.
"Come on, idiot," Watts said, with a chuckle, and they disappeared into the darkness. Li shook her head but she was smiling.
Shepard raised an eyebrow under her visor but said nothing. After a bit, Liara and Meideros followed, then the others in pairs, until Shepard and Garrus were the last ones through, maneuvering Beaumont’s dead weight through the cramped tunnel.
When they came out the other side she heard the bark of a Valkyrie. The Marines and Liara had formed a rough semi-circle and had shot a handful of husks, but they seemed to be finding it difficult to focus on security, and after a moment she saw why.
A huge insect-like creature filled the cavern, restrained by long blue-black cables and anchored by huge slabs of metal, all of it immediately recognizable as Reaper tech. A huge mouth opened and closed, a multitude of eyes staring down at them.
The rachni queen. But where once she had been the size of a family sedan, she was now much, much bigger.
"How the fuck are we going to kill that?" Dressler asked.
Again, Medeiros swore in Portuguese. "I only have one rocket."
A dead krogan lying in the pool of water in front of them began to twitch, like a marionette on a string. The rachni queen’s penchant for speaking through the dead was just as unsettling as it was the first time.
Shepard grabbed Liao’s arm when the Marine raised her LMG. “Hold fire.”
“Ma’am?”
The krogan’s mouth flopped open and the rachni’s words ground out of dead vocal cords. “Your song…is familiar…”
“You are the last queen,” Shepard said grimly. The last message from the rachni queen had been one of - friendship, almost, through her asari ‘friend’. Another betrayal?
“Yes…we listen for the children. They are…empty, hollow…the machines madden them with the sour note and take them away…”
“The Reapers did this to you?” she crossed her arms.
“Yes…they drown our song with their own…”
“Indoctrination?” Garrus asked from her side, leaning Beaumont’s body against a rock. Red human blood had dripped down his armour.
“If she were indoctrinated, there would be no need for restraints,” Liara pointed out.
The Marines were unsettled, nervously adjusting grip on their weapons. The sight of the dead krogan, head lopsided, speaking in grating tones was almost apocalyptic.
"Those things out there wasted Beaumont," Watts said uneasily. "Also Rachni."
Shepard crossed her arms. “We had a deal. You were meant to disappear - to not interfere with the galaxy again.”
“We kept our promise…” the rachni insisted through the dead scout, “went through the Relay…to the worlds abandoned…built a new home with beautiful children…but the machines came…”
Adamsen and Watts shared a look. Pale-faced, Klein's eyes widened. It was clear what the Marines were concerned about. A deal that their Commander had made - a promise that the rachni had kept.
Shepard couldn’t worry about that right now. She had to rely on Hohepa, who was watching the scene with an unreadable expression, keeping them on task. Even if the Marines couldn't trust Shepard, they trusted their sergeant, and if she’d read Hohepa right, she would do her duty regardless.
“They captured you and used you to breed an army.” It made Shepard feel somewhat ill.
“The children,” the rachni’s dead puppet jerked with something like fear, “they return. They will destroy us all. Release us!”
“Release you?” Shepard demanded, raising an eyebrow, “after last time?”
“We hate the machines,” the queen said vehemently, “we will fight them. For the children they have taken from us and the children yet to be born. Release us!”
"Fuck no!" Dressler craned his neck to look at the Captain. "We should kill it and then get outta here."
While the Marines were uneasy, they didn't dare disobey orders.
Quietly, with fear tinging his voice, Adamsen agreed. "It's huge - it could crush us so easily."
Shepard considered the queen, shackled and chained. Used. She considered the risks and the idea of thousands of rachni fighting for the galaxy. Maybe Shepard knew a little bit about being used too.
“It’s not her fault,” Liara said, with a look of sympathy on her face.
Shepard pulled out her pistol and put two rounds into the control device holding the queen. The queen screeched and started pulling. The cavern shook for a moment before she pulled free of her restraints.
Some of the Marines readied their weapons, while others recoiled, preparing to lunge backwards to dodge or escape if the queen did attack. The fear wasn't warranted. No attack came.
“She’s injured, badly,” Liara observed, “she’ll need time to escape.”
Shepard’s response was cut off by Grunt’s voice in her ear. “Ranger, Aralakh. We’re being pressed hard here - we’re taking heavy casualties. How much more time do you need to destroy the nest, over?”
“The rachni queen is escaping,” Shepard responded, “we need to give her time to do so. Over.”
“You want us to die for a rachni?” Grunt demanded.
She closed her eyes briefly under her visor. “Grunt. Trust me.”
A pause. She was using his affection for her as leverage and they both knew it. “Damn you, Shepard. Fine. We’ll hold. Aralakh out.”
“Defensive positions,” she ordered - and not a moment too soon as husks dropped out of a nearby tunnel, accompanied by another of the huskified rachni.
"Aw shit, contact!" Dressler ignited the flamethrower, but the stream of flame lasted only a moment. A husk lunged forward, towards him, burning slightly. He didn't have time to retrieve his rifle and he tossed the flamethrower at it. Adamsen fired a quick burst and brought the husk down.
"Fire in the hole!" Medeiros' launcher was in her hands at lightning speed, Watts and Klein diving to the side to create a hole for the rocket to fit through. "Fire in the hole!"
There was a deafening roar, then an explosion before the rachni screeched and listed to the right.
Shepard twisted a hand and a mnemonic, propelling a husk into the wall of the cavern. More husks poured into the cavern. Liao shouted something, scything through them with her LMG. Shepard risked a glance over her shoulder to see the giant rachni scrabbling for the far tunnel that would let her out of the caves.
A husk latched onto Liara. The asari shoved it off her with a wave of blue energy and then Shepard shot it.
“Okay?” Shepard called.
“Yes,” she said shortly, but she was cradling her left hand to her chest, face pinched under her visor.
“I’ll decide on that!” Doc Kovalenko said, unimpressed by the Shadowbroker’s intimidating glare.
"Can we try and grenade that tunnel and close off the entrance?" Dressler shouted, now a rifle in his hands chattering away. "It might cut them off!"
Watts took one off of Klein's webbing. "Sarge?!"
“Try it!” Shepard shouted back.
"Oorah!" With practiced movements, Watts primed the grenade and tossed it. Before it landed, Klein was handing him a second, which followed the same arc. They nestled among the rocks, automatically latching themselves to the cavern wall.
The first one detonated, then the second.
The explosions dislodged dust and a few rocks, partially blocking the entrance. It wouldn’t hold the enemy for long, but it would do for now.
“Move out the other tunnel,” she shouted, “quickly!”
"Roger, bounding!" Dressler was the first up, turning quickly, followed closely by Adamsen. Watts hauled Klein to his feet and pushed him along, keeping the pace.
When they had moved past Liao and her machinegun, they took up positions to cover the rest of the squad. "Set!"
The squad disappeared into the far tunnel just as husks started clawing at the rubble.
The Kodiak lifted off, carrying Lieutenant Beaumont and the wounded, including Urdnot Grunt. Shepard took a sip from her suit’s water tank as she watched it go. Some of Grunt’s blood was still splattered on her armour from when he’d stumbled into her arms.
They’d cut off the enemy’s source of rachni and gained a powerful ally, but the cost had been high. Aralakh Company had taken heavy casualties, her… protege was badly wounded and her lieutenant was dead.
The other two squads of the Marine platoon were pulling security, giving Second Squad time to rest, hydrate and snack if they wanted to. Sergeant Hohepa was sitting cross-legged, her rifle across her lap.
Second Squad were exhausted. Adamsen methodically chewed on a protein bar, staring off into the distance.
Dressler had taken his helmet off and was rhythmically slapping each ear in turn, brows furrowed. Sitting close by, Watts looked at him, annoyed. "Can you stop that, it's really annoying."
"I still can't hear properly," the Australian complained. "My ears are fucked."
"You heard Doc, leave it alone for the time being and it'll come back. Chakwas will assess you when we're on the Normandy."
As Dressler started to bicker, Adamsen bluntly cut in. "I can't believe Beaumont is dead."
That shut Dressler up. He stopped thumping on his head and turned his eyes towards the dirt.
“Didn’t have a chance,” Liao shook her head. She was fiddling with her MRE.
“You all did really well today,” Shepard said. “No one is ever really ready for the kind of shit the Reapers can throw at us, but you kept your heads.”
Adamsen briefly looked up. "Thanks, ma'am."
They'd seen death as Marines before. Some, like Dressler and Watts, had been involved in minor pirate skirmishes. When the Reapers came, they had scrambled back to the relays, abandoning their garrisons in a disorganised retreat and leaving the dead where they fell.
But they'd never lost one of their own before. Beaumont wasn't a perfect officer, but he had been liked well enough - and more importantly, he was their platoon leader. He was one of them. And if he could die like that…
"How did the rachni become those… things?" Dressler asked. "They were destroyed thousands of years ago?"
“Same way they husk humans, I guess,” Shepard said tiredly, “but one egg survived the rachni wars. Binary Helix found it three years ago. I freed her from their control but it seems the Reapers caught up with her anyway.”
Dressler was shocked into silence.
Licking his lips, abounding with nervous energy, Adamsen said something. "So… How many people in the galaxy know that?"
Shepard smiled grimly, “The people that were there, the Council…and now you lot.”
Dressler groaned and fell backwards. "This is a lot for just one day…"
"I bet that's just the tip of the iceberg," Watts said, shaking his head. "But that's what we get for being Normandy Marines."
With no enthusiasm whatsoever, Adamsen agreed. "Oorah."
“I don’t think it will be a secret for much longer,” Shepard shrugged.
“Of course not, ma’am,” Li said dryly, looking up from her own MRE, “Dressler and Watts gossip like little old ladies.”
"Sure, complain about it now," replied Dressler, still staring at the sky, "But when you want to know who from Bravo Company has the hots for who, I'm the first rack you visit."
Watts cleared his throat. "With my info."
"You're the best infobroker in the galaxy, mate."
Li rolled her eyes, “Hook-ups, the most important intel in the galaxy.”
Liao smirked. “Like you didn’t bribe me not to talk about Corporal Janssen from Charlie-”
“Traitor,” Li grumbled, tossing a wrapper at the other Marine.
Shepard smiled to herself. She looked up at the familiar sound of a Kodiak’s thrusters.
“You’re next, Ranger 2,” she said. She would stay on the ground until the last squad left. “...I need to get another shuttle.”
Dressler sat bolt upright, eyes passing over Li, but then he took his feet quickly, hauling Watts up and getting ready to embark. "Thank God."
The shuttle set down with a hum and Shepard waved the Marines forward. “Enjoy the next twenty-four hours off, Marines, you’ve earned it.”
Codex Entry
Krogan Military Reforms:
The meteoric rise of the Urdnot Coalition under the leadership of Urdnot Wrex on Tuchanka has led to some growing pains for a new, unified military capable of fighting sustained wars. Contrary to vids, having excellent individual soldiers is not sufficient to win wars against a ‘peer’ opponent - for that, logistics and discipline is required.
In fact, part of what made the Krogan Rebellions a long, bloody war, was not just the individual ferocity of their soldiers or krogan society’s acceptance of high casualties, but the ability of the krogan navy to transport millions of troops across the galaxy. This was the impetus for not only the dismantling of the Krogan Empire’s navy, but the destruction of the ability of the krogan to build starships at all and the CDEM being given the prerogative to destroy any facilities or craft they believed could be related to warships.
With the reunification of Tuchanka and the looming threat of the Reapers, Urdnot Wrex has set about the daunting task of turning disparate clan-based warbands into a coherent military force. Most krogan units remain arranged along clan lines, though the Coalition has formed more ‘heavy’ units such as mechanised units and developed reconnaissance and logistical capabilities, albeit still far behind the comparative capabilities of the Citadel Council nations. A rudimentary rank system has been developed for officers in charge of different units, forming a chain of command. Krogan officers tend towards being comparatively more experienced and ferocious if compared to human and turian officers, as they must still maintain their positions, occasionally with violence against challenging subordinates.
A handful of cross-clan units have been established, such as the elite infantry unit of Aralakh Company, though the krogan military is unlikely to be fully integrated for some time due to clan rivalries.
Chapter 20: Headshot
Chapter Text
Councillor Udina was in a fine mood, snapping at his aides and guards alike - including Spectre Ashley Williams. A few years ago, she might have snapped back but now she bit her tongue and reminded herself she only had to put up with this for as long as it took to get back in the field.
Besides, he got worse on days where he was briefed on Earth's situation, or when they were taking particularly heavy casualties. The man was a dick but it turned out he had a heart after all.
"Stay out here," he snapped, "I'm sure Matriarch Kel'hera won't try to stab me with a chopstick, and having a military...type hovering will only make negotiations more difficult."
'Military type' sounded closer to 'military thug' and she bit down the urge to say she was a military professional, thanks.
"Of course, Councillor."
The door to his office closed and Ash sighed, leaning against the wall. She was far from the only security Udina had - there were the embassy guards who were all Alliance Marines who were holding the perimeter and guarding all the entrances, and he had two personal bodyguards. In fact, her presence felt somewhat unnecessary.
She'd spent most of her time as an enlisted grunt wishing for bigger and better things, but it was times like this that she missed when her biggest grievance was a sergeant ordering her to paint rocks.
"Spectre Williams?"
She looked up. Udina's assistant smiled at her. She was a tall, willowy woman fond of pencil skirts, with dark hair and brown eyes.
"Miss Ebner," she nodded.
"I'm sorry to disturb you, but one of the new embassy guards - well, your name came up, and she seemed quite excited to learn you were here, said you knew each other. Sergeant Maria Hernandez?"
Whatever Ash had been expecting , it wasn't that. She blinked, surprised and then smiled. "Wait, Hernandez is here? What's she doing - nevermind, is she still on duty?"
"Yes, she's down at the front desk."
She hadn't heard anything from Hunter team since the war started. If Hernandez was here, maybe she could get some idea of what was happening with them.
"Thank you, Ebner."
"Please, call me Hanna."
"Sure thing."
She excused herself and made her way down the stairs from Udina's office towards the front desk of the human embassy. A familiar, solid figure was in the security booth. Unlike Ash who was in a vest, clip-on barrier and carrying a pistol, Hernandez was in a full hardsuit, her rifle magnetised and her helmet on the desk in front of her.
Ash ignored the other Marine who went to attention at the sight of her and stepped into the booth. "Hernandez!"
The other woman grinned. "Ma'am. Congrats on the shiny new badge."
Ash glanced down at her Spectre badge pinned to her vest. "Thanks. Shit, Hernandez, what are you doing here?"
That wiped the smile off the Marine's face. "I was on my way to some emergency leave. Azad's father died a couple of days before the war started. So I got shuffled around for a bit because they couldn't get me back to Hunter team and I ended up here." She rolled her eyes. "Biggest fucking war ever, and I got stuck with desk duty."
"Hey," Ash nudged her, "they can't keep me here once I'm cleared. I can make sure you come with me."
Hernandez brightened. "Fuck yeah."
"Not gonna ask where?" Ash laughed.
"Anywhere is better than here."
"Very true," she hesitated, but she had to ask, "do you know where the team is or what's happening with them? Jaz isn't answering my emails."
Hernandez shook her head. "Sorry, ma'am. All I know is that we were deployed off your ex's boat still, in the Terminus. Went back to pirate hunting after the Spectres stole you. New team leader wasn't so bad, though, and you know Sun. They'll be okay."
"Wasn't so bad?" Ash hadn't asked too much about the new team leader. She was possessive enough that it had stung to think of some other officer with her team.
"Not as good as you, ma'am," Hernandez said loyally, "but Lieutenant Aslan isn't an idiot."
"I'm glad," she said with feeling.
"Just never thought that I wouldn't be with them during this, you know?" Hernandez said softly.
"Yeah, me neither."
They stood there in that silence for a moment. The only thing worse than war was your friends going to war without you.
"Heard from Azad?" she asked gently. Hernandez's husband had been on Earth last she'd heard. He was a former Marine himself, and when she spoke about him, the cynical sergeant was transformed. She was fairly certain there were three things Hernandez truly loved and they were her husband, her Marines and her Typhoon, in that order.
Hernandez shook her head, glancing down at her gauntlet encased hand where a wedding ring would normally be. "Nothing. I have to believe that I'll see him again."
She reached over and squeezed the sergeant's shoulder. "He's got a better chance than anyone."
"I know. But you better get me the chance to kick some husk ass."
"It's a deal."
Colonel Eban Sosparal rested the back of his helmeted head against the side of the barricade, staring up at the sky. The sky had been the enemy for many of his nearly sixty years - it was where the slavers and the pirates and the slave-catchers came from, and he was one of the few battle-experienced officers in Sanctum's militia.
Now the Reapers would come out of it, and there was nothing much Eban could do about it. Sanctum had little more than two hundred thousand residents and two thousand militiamen to protect it. If the Hegemony and the Hierarchy and the Systems Alliance couldn't stop the Reapers, he definitely couldn't. It was all he could do to keep pirates out of Vulpes on a good day.
"Sir?" the private that called out to him was a lean twig of a salarian, holding a M-8 rifle that seemed oversized in his arms.
"Yes?"
"The Chief Minister wants to see you, sir."
He grunted and got to his feet, picking up his own M-8 Avenger and slinging it over his shoulder. "She's in the HQ still?"
"Yessir." the salarian had to look up at him.
"Dismissed."
It was a cold night and his bad knee ached. It was always cold on Sanctum, even here on the inhabitable ring of the equator. For a man who'd grown up on hot Khar'shan the cold had been the most difficult thing to adjust to, and there were times he wished he'd fled to some other Terminus colony thirty years ago.
But the town of Vulpes had taken him in when he was a wounded wreck, with a broken slave collar still around his neck and his master's blood under his fingernails. Sanctum was his home and while he couldn't save it, he wasn't going to abandon it either.
He found Chief Minister Sashra Muranis and Councillor for Self-Defence Fasan Imino in Muranis' office. Arguing, as usual.
"-these reports from the miners," Sashra began.
"They're scared and overreacting," Imino shot back, "every shadow is a husk these days-"
"We can't deny the facts," Sashra said strongly, "eventually, they will come here."
"We're a tiny colony," Imino dismissed, "they have bigger problems than us."
Eban thought about pointing out what had happened to Chalkhos. Being a small colony would probably mean they would just get glassed from orbit without the courtesy of even fighting for their own survival.
"Ministers," he said courteously.
Imino glared at him. The salarian had never much liked him, but that was mutual. Imino had close ties to the mining corporations that tried to run the Sanctum government as a puppet, and saw his portfolio as an avenue for self-aggrandisement and money-making. A colonel who cared about his troops having armour and enough ammunition had just been an obstacle to that.
Since the war had started, Eban had seriously considered shooting him, but Sashra probably wouldn't forgive him for it.
Sahra cleared her throat. "I'll take your advice under consideration, Minister Imino, but I would like to still explore how we can start training those who have volunteered for service. Please give me the report at our next meeting. Colonel Sosparal has an update for me, so if you'll excuse us...?"
"Of course, Chief Minister," Imino left the room with a sour twist to his mouth.
Eban chuckled once the door shut behind the salarian. "I was wondering why you didn't just call me, but you just needed me to save you from him."
Sashra's smile was weak and after a moment she stepped forward and into his arms.
He laid his cheek against the top of her purple-tinged crest. She barely came up to his muscled chest but he'd known her strength the moment they'd met. Others had been frightened by his appearance - bleeding, scarred and marked with the tattoos of a Dassabar war-slave - but she hadn't been.
She'd patiently helped him work out what it was to be a person and not just a weapon and status symbol. Her pride in him had been more of a motivator than he liked to admit.
"We're going to lose," she whispered.
Eban was no optimist. "Yes."
She pulled back slightly and pressed her palm to the side of his face, scarred from ballistic blades when he was twenty-six. Her green eyes were sad. "I love you."
"And I you."
"You know the...object the miners dug up last year."
"Of course," he said dryly. A prothean orb...thing meant little to him, but they were incredibly valuable. He'd lost some sleep about how to protect it after the Ministry had voted to keep it and sell it later. Secrecy had been the only real way to keep someone from taking it by force, and even his best soldiers were hardly Armiger Legionnaires.
"I've been contacted by someone in the Systems Alliance intelligence service," she licked her lips nervously, "I don't know how they found out about it."
"They want it," he surmised.
She dropped her hand to his uniformed shoulder. "Of course they do. They're sending a team to collect it."
"We don't have a choice," he said, a bit grimly. A galactic power could take what it wanted from little independent colonies like them.
"They promised money," she dropped her gaze, "enough we could hire some ships. Evacuate some of our people."
"At least they're not robbing us then," he said sardonically. "When will they get here?"
"In ten hours. I would like you to take them to the facility and oversee the handover."
"Of course."
"Eban," she said, almost guiltily, "they're sending Shepard."
He stiffened despite himself before he forced himself to relax. "That doesn't change anything for me, Sashra. Of course they'd send their Spectre with a stealth warship. I'll do my duty regardless."
Not to mention the strange rumours about what Shepard could do with Prothean beacons.
"I know you will." She kissed him gently. "You should get some sleep before they get here."
Bossy as always. The thought was fond, but he didn't really want to leave the HQ in case something happened. "Is your couch free?"
She smiled. "For you? Always."
There was a cafe near Huerta Memorial, just close enough that Ash didn't mind walking to it after the exhausting rehab sessions. Their coffee wasn't awful either, even if the burgers were her least favourite brand of faux meat.
Today she'd been joined by one of the others in her rehab group. She hadn't met too many drell before, but Tannor Nuara had a calm presence she found restful in the chaos. And he had a liking for poetry as well. He'd shared hanar, drell and even asari poets.
It was nice.
Now he sipped his tea and she drank her coffee.
"I read this 'what if a much of a which of a wind'," he said, "it suits the times."
"The poet wrote it during World War Two," she explained, cupping her cup between her palms.
He nodded slowly. "There is a drell poet my wife was fond of. Oniya Kuas. She wrote extensively about Rakhana. I...failed to appreciate her poems. I thought they were overly critical of the hanar, mistaking their mercy for cruelty."
"And now?" Ash asked.
He hummed before coughing. When he recovered, he said, "Now I think I understand better what Kuas was grieving for."
"Excuse me," a shadow fell across her. Frowning at the interruption, Ash looked up. A tall, muscular human man stood beside the table. He had the close-cropped hair that shouted military and a friendly smile, "Are you Spectre Williams?"
She was out of her uniform and not wearing the badge of the Office of Special Tactics.
"Depends who's asking," she replied, only half-joking.
He smiled more broadly, and in the next moment there was a gun in her face. She had a moment to register the glint of fake sunlight on the metallic barrel and the thought that he was close enough that her habitually worn clip-on barrier wouldn't trigger. And then she was diving to the side and reaching for her own side-arm.
It wouldn't be enough. He pulled the trigger and pain bloomed across her ribs, and she had a moment to think thank god she'd put her vest back on after rehab, even if his next shot would be a headshot-
But then a pulse of purple-blue light struck the shooter in the chest and propelled him back, across the open cafe. He slammed into the counter, one of the workers screaming, and when Ash looked over, Tannor was on his feet, glowing brightly.
In the next moment he'd shoved the table they'd been sitting at over with another biotic field, cups smashing against the floor and spilling black coffee and sweetened tea. Ashley rolled behind the flimsy cover just as the first shot cracked overhead, whacking her elbow against the ground.
"Motherfucker," she said, with feeling. She peeked out of cover, ready to fire, but there were civilians right near the shooter. She needed a clear shot.
The would-be assassin had no such compunctions, firing at her until she had to drop back down, the rounds snapping overhead and punching into the table. She was honestly surprised it was holding up.
"Can you-" she began, but Tannor was already on his feet, glowing again.
A biotic field yanked the shooter into the air, out of cover and away from the cowering civilians. Ashley stood and fired three times. The first deflected into the countertop because of his barrier. The next two were blooms of red erupting from his torso, right where his lungs and heart were.
Tannor's field winked out and the body dropped to the ground with a meaty thud. Then the drell doubled up, coughing. Wracking, shuddering coughs that made him grab at the table for support.
Ashley hated to leave him even as her fighter’s instincts propelled her forward, into a few running steps towards the still shooter and kicked the pistol away from his limp hand. His chest wasn't moving and when she leant down, ribs protesting, and pressed two fingers to his neck, there wasn't a pulse.
She retrieved the dead man's pistol and went back to Tannor. The civilians had taken the opportunity to run.
"Okay?"
He managed a nod, taking in a few rasping breaths.
"Thanks, Tannor. You really saved my ass."
He looked at her for a moment with steady black eyes. "I'm afraid I haven't been entirely truthful, Ashley. My true name is Thane Krios. I'm...a friend of Shepard's."
"Oh."
"It seemed...providence that we were in the same rehab group," he said.
"Right now, I might be inclined to agree."
In the distance she heard the wail of CSec sirens.
The spaceport outside of Vulpes had a handful of landing platforms for shuttles and cargo freighters. Eban had spent some time here when the Vulpes Security Forces needed armed back-up - it was often an epicentre of smuggling. All too many supplemented their ice-cracking with smuggling or deals with pirates, and the Sanctum government had to pick its battles.
"Sir," Flag Sergeant Icilia Sertius met him outside the terminal building, rifle magnetised to her back.
"Flag," he responded with a nod. "How far away are our guests?"
"Ten minutes, sir. Orbital Defence Company just cleared them to land." The turian shifted, mandibles tightening close to her brown plated face. "I don't like Council types getting involved in our business, if I may say so."
"Neither do I," Eban responded, "but they can do more with this...orb thing than we ever could, and with their payment we can evacuate civilians."
"Yessir." She didn't voice the concern in her eyes, but he suspected he shared it. Where would the people of Sanctum go? Where could you run from this invasion?
The sky filled with the distinctive sound of a Kodiak's thrusters. Eban shivered. His master had been an officer in the SIU and had taken him along to some of the 'operations' in the Skyllian Blitz as a bodyguard, before a shuttle that had sounded just like that had brought with it the black-armoured humans who'd shot the officer in the leg twice and Eban had carried him out.
Eban had been punished for his failure.
But that was years and planets away.
The blue-painted shuttle settled on the nearby landing pad and the doors arced open. Three figures, encased in combat armour, stepped out. The first took off her helmet, and approached.
"Captain Shepard," he said.
A cool, black-eyed gaze settled on him, measuring. "Colonel Sosparal."
"I hope your journey was pleasant."
"No need to pretend I'm your favourite person, Colonel," Shepard said dryly, "Let's get this over with. We can take my shuttle."
"Very well. I'll give you the navpoint."
Thirty minutes later the shuttle was skimming above the ice caps of Sanctum, shuddering with the gale force winds outside. Shepard was on her omnitool. Her soldiers were quiet behind their polarised visors. Flag Sergeant Sertius had tried to start a conversation, if only to try and get some hints as to how the war was going, but ran into a wall of stony silence.
"What exactly were you going to do with this archive anyway?" Shepard asked with a twist of her mouth. Eban wasn't a man who was easily intimidated, but something about that gaze made him decidedly uncomfortable.
"Sell it," he said succinctly, "when we'd found a reliable buyer who wouldn't just try and steal it."
"How mercenary," she smiled coolly.
"We have no scientists or universities to make sense of it," he defended. It was easy for someone from a galactic superpower to judge, but in the Terminus, survival was the rule.
Shepard didn't respond to that, instead studying the raging storm outside the shuttle. "What a hospitable place you've got here."
"Cold as shit," he agreed.
"We're five mikes out, ma'am," came the voice of the shuttle pilot, his voice modulated through his helmet.
"Good. Let's get this over with."
The facility they'd been hiding the Prothean archive in was really just one prefab building, guarded by some of his troops, with a shuttle pad on the roof. The pale metal walls blended into the desolate, snow-swept surroundings, its foundations sunk into the thick ice beneath that never melted. His soldiers would be glad to get home to Vulpes.
The Kodiak set down gently on the landing pad and the doors folded open. The troop bay was immediately swept with an icy-cold wind, carrying flurries of snow. Eban grit his teeth against it, chilled despite the hardsuit he was wearing, and jumped out. There were two of his soldiers on the roof with their rifles - very miserable sentries battered by the storm.
"Follow me!" he shouted to the humans and led them to the elevator, which was thankfully heated.
The three Alliance soldiers made no complaints about the weather, a far cry from any of his own that were posted here, herding into the elevator after him and the Flag.
The elevator opened up into a warehouse - which this place had been before its requisitioning - with a handful of hardsuit-clad troops milling around. Their lieutenant came forward, a young asari who'd immigrated from Omega a few years ago.
"Sir, it's good to see you."
"You too, Lieutenant. I'm sure you're all going to be glad to get home."
"Yessir. The ice fields aren't the place for anyone to live."
Shepard stepped past them, her helmet off again, and her eyes fixed on the Prothean artifact. It was a round, silver orb, secured for transport to a trolley. Every time before that Eban had seen it, it had been inert but now in Shepard's presence it was humming faintly.
Lieutenant T'Ha frowned at it and then at the human. "What did you do to it?"
Shepard smiled, a cruel little smile like she was in on a joke. "Don't worry. It's not your problem anymore."
The air split with gunshots. For a moment, Eban couldn't understand what was happening, and then the lieutenant was tumbling down, the back of her skull missing and the three, silent, Alliance troops were opening fire on the Flag Sergeant. Sertius didn't even have time to reach for her gun.
He spun and met Shepard's gaze.
Eban Sosparal looked into Shepard's cold, cold eyes and saw the colder smile on her mouth, paired with the rifle pointed at his chest, and knew he was about to die.
He reached for his pistol anyway.
His shields lit and died. The first round punched into his abdomen, nearly driving him to his knees, but he stayed up. The pain washed over him but he had lived with pain for decades, had been moulded with it, embraced it. He had dragged himself to freedom with a ruined face and shattered bones. He had tossed his Dassabari dagger into the sea. He would never cower again.
He pulled the trigger.
Shepard's shields lit up a brilliant blue. In the next moment something - someone - slammed into him. He flew back from the impact of Shepard's biotic wreathed body, hitting the wall hard. When he tried to get up, he couldn't. Blood was streaming down his front from the bullet wound and his leg was shattered beneath him.
"A fighter," Shepard observed, looking at him like one might a particularly interesting bug.
One of the soldiers spoke from where she'd just put a bullet into the head of one of his wounded soldiers, "Shepard, come on. Just finish him off. I want off this ice cube."
"So demanding," Shepard said lightly, looming over him.
He tried speaking, but all that came out was a gasp. Why? We were going to sell it to you anyway.
Shepard drew back her fist, biotic energy snapping around it, and in the next moment it was inside his chest, splintering bone and muscle and organs. She pulled it free and he slumped to the ground.
His last seconds of consciousness were of choking on his own blood as Shepard picked up the Prothean orb with bloody hands.
Sashra...Sashra-
When Ashley opened the door to her apartment, tired and sore to the bone, Sarah immediately launched herself forward. Ash held back the groan of bruised pain that wanted to tear free of her lips and returned the hug.
"Oh my god, Ash."
"I'm okay."
"The news said something about a shooter-"
"I'm okay," she repeated, holding Sarah at arms length and managing a smile, "Not a scratch on me."
There were the bruises, but they'd fade. And the other guy was a lot worse off.
"Here you are, comforting me," Sarah said, chagrined, "but you're the one who got shot at. That must have been terrifying."
She thought about saying that she'd had worse days, but she didn't think that would go well. "I'm mostly just pissed, to be honest. I've asked CSec to keep an eye on the apartment, so if you see them around, that's why."
Sarah nodded slowly. "Good idea.”
Her omnitool was ringing. Ash blinked and looked down, at E Shepard blinking as the caller ID. "Sorry, Sar-"
Sarah waved a hand, her smile still shaky but there. "Say hello to your girlfriend."
She stepped into her bedroom and accepted the vidcall. The holo resolved into Shepard's face, a furrow between her eyebrows, her eyes running over Ash's own face like she was drinking the sight of her in.
"Hey," Ash said, wishing that Shepard was there. A hug sounded pretty good right now.
"Ash," Shepard's voice was soft despite how searching and intense her gaze was, "are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she sat down on the bed, "you found out quick."
Shepard shrugged a little, "I have my sources."
"Mhm. Like your drell friend you had watching out for me?" she raised an eyebrow.
She looked sheepish for a moment. "Thane offered to look out for you while you were still unconscious. I worried."
"Well, he helped a lot today."
"I should thank him," Shepard murmured, worry creasing her face, "he's not well."
"No, he's not," she agreed, thinking of the coughing fit Krios had had the moment the assassin was dead.
"Any idea who is behind it?"
Ash sighed. She felt suddenly tired. Adrenaline crash, maybe. "The guy was human, and former military. Came in on a refugee visa and was let out of detention on the Councillor's prerogative."
Shepard's expression steeled, "What did Udina have to say about that?"
"That he thought he was helping a veteran out. He seems pretty offended that someone he helped out would try to kill a human Spectre."
"God forbid Udina look bad," Shepard said dryly.
She smiled and glanced down for a moment. "...thanks for calling. It's good to hear your voice."
"Of course, cariño," Shepard murmured, "I only wish I'd been there to watch your six."
"Know the feeling. Are you alright?”
“I’m…we had a KIA, the new MARDET lieutenant. But we’re headed to Tuchanka soon. Hopefully this will all be worth it..”
“Shit, Em, I’m sorry.”
“Feel bad I barely knew the kid,” Shepard grimaced.
“You’ve had a lot on your mind.”
Shepard glanced away, looking distracted and then sighed, "I'm sorry. They need me on the bridge."
"No problem. I love you."
Shepard's smile was small but her eyes were warm, "I love you too, Ashley."
When the call ended, Ash let herself feel it for a moment - the inadequacy of a vidcall, the sharp ache of missing her. She was used to missing Shepard, but this was different. The anger was gone, leaving only the longing for Shepard's presence, her smile, her touch.
Then she stood up and opened her bedroom door. She had a sister to reassure and assassins to hunt down.
Codex Entry
Batarian Slave Soldiers:
The practice of slave soldiers is maintained with the batarian Hegemony, often to the confusion of outside onlookers. After all, it seems rather counter productive to arm those who might desire freedom and use those weapons to revolt, but this has proven to be rarer than might be expected.
The slave soldiers or warriors in Hegemony society can be divided into two groups: alien slaves and batarian slaves.
The usage of alien slaves as soldiers varies wildly. Some are used as bodyguards or glorified status symbols - it has become quite fashionable for batarian nobility to have krogan slaves as bodyguards for example. Others are, more or less, cannon fodder. For obvious reason these slaves aren't exactly effective soldiers, being unmotivated and driven only by their collars, often poorly trained or untrained completely, and often malnourished or overworked. After all, cannon fodder is a poor use of a good quality slave. Despite this, poorly trained and poorly armed alien slave soldiers are the predominant type that have been faced by Alliance troops in the Alliance-Hegemony proxy wars, with the primary use of them appearing to be to demoralise human soldiers.
Batarian slave soldiers on the other hand, are usually Dassabari, or 'war-slaves'. These batarian slaves are chosen for their physical attributes of strength and speed, and are usually taken from their families at a young age and sent to special training schools to be raised. There they are indoctrinated for loyalty, obedience and violence, and trained in a variety of martial skills such as unarmed combat, bladed weapons and a variety of guns. A Dassabar must always carry their dagger on their person and is usually tattooed on their chests and faces to mark their status. Besides a regiment of Dassabari kept by the Hegemon, wealthy batarians are known to keep Dassabari as personal guards.
Revolts by these war-slaves are rare but not unknown.
Chapter 21: Duty
Chapter Text
The cargo bay was dead silent except for the shuffling steps of the six Marines carrying Lieutenant Beaumont's silver, flag-draped transfer case on their shoulders. The Marine platoon and the off-duty servicemen were lined up in silent rows, Shepard standing at their head, and as the casket bearers passed on their slow trudge to the waiting shuttle, slow salutes rippled along the lines like a wave.
Shepard saluted as the coffin passed her, and then they were loading it onto the shuttle, and that was that. For a second she wondered what would even happen with the body. Beaumont was from the homeworld and his family were in France. It wasn't like they could ship him home.
As the grim-faced Alliance personnel were dispersing, Chakwas emerged from the elevator, leading a comically large stretcher. Shepard had been surprised they even had stretchers to fit Grunt.
She stepped close to the stretcher. Grunt blinked blearily at her - he was on enough painkillers and meds to kill a horse. Even a krogan didn't recover quickly from his current injuries.
But he was going to make it.
She dropped her hand to his shoulder. "Behave for the doctors, Grunt,"
"Shep...urd," he slurred, "what a victory. Have to...drink to your name!"
She raised an eyebrow. "Maybe wait until your liver is finished regenerating."
"Sorry, Captain," Chakwas said regretfully, "we really need to transfer him."
She nodded and squeezed Grunt's arm. His skin felt like leather under her palm. Had she ever seen him out of armour before? "You're going to be okay."
"Gonna kill more Reapers," he mumbled, and then Shepard stepped back and the stretcher was whisked forward and into the same Kodiak they'd just put Beaumont's body into. They'd rendezvoused with an Alliance cruiser with better medical facilities that was headed back to the Citadel.
"Captain?" Lieutenant Traynor called. Her eyes kept skipping over to the shuttle, now going through pre-flight checks, thrusters a low roar.
Shepard needed to try and check in on her. She was holding it together admirably, but it had to be a helluva shock to go from an egghead in a lab to part of a warship in an existential war.
"Yes?"
"Primarch Victus asked to speak with you at your earliest convenience."
She bit down on a sigh. "Thanks for letting me know."
Traynor looked past her again. "...he really was just a boy."
They usually were. "He was. How are you holding up, Traynor?"
Traynor blinked a couple of times. "Me, ma'am? I'm fine." She seemed to reconsider this after a moment. "I mean, I'm absolutely terrified, ma'am, but I won't help anyone by bursting into tears all the time. And if there's anywhere that makes me feel like I'm making a difference, it's this ship."
"Fair enough, but if you need to talk, my door is open to my crew."
Traynor ducked her head. "Thanks, ma'am."
"Is Victus in the observation deck?"
"He was in the war room, ma'am."
"Thanks.”
The war room always seemed dimmer than the rest of the ship. She found the Primarch of Palaven in the corner that had been set aside for his staff's use, his eyes stuck on a display currently in a turian script. From the way his mandibles were clasped close to his face, it wasn't good news.
"Primarch, you wanted to talk to me?"
"Captain." There was something tired in Victus' expression as he met her gaze. "I have something of a situation you may be able to assist with."
"Hit me," Shepard leant against the nearest bulkhead and crossed her arms.
Victus' mandibles flicked. "Why would I hit you?"
"...human saying. What's the mission?"
"One of my ships went down...on Tuchanka."
She couldn't help the way her eyebrows shot up at that, but she didn't interrupt.
"It was carrying an Armiger platoon. Most survived the crash, but I've received information that they're pinned by Reaper forces, some of the scouts Urdnot Wrex mentioned. If you and your troops could relieve them so they can continue their mission, the Hierarchy would be in your debt."
Shepard frowned. "What is their mission?"
Victus hesitated. "It's classified."
"Understood." She didn't like it, but that was how the game was played sometimes. Need to know basis, and she was clearly not on Victus' list, regardless of being a Spectre. "Who's the commanding officer?"
Another, longer pause. "Junior Lieutenant Tarquin Victus."
Oh shit. "Your..."
"My son."
"Primarch-"
"Please," he said tiredly, not quite meeting her gaze, "don't let that affect your decision-making. The platoon's mission may be...vital to galactic security."
Otherwise he'd be waiting for turian assets, and not an Alliance unit with no personal loyalty to the Hierarchy. Beyond Garrus. Maybe.
"We're already setting a course for Tuchanka, but I'll launch a mission as soon as I'm able once we're in orbit. On that topic - I have a favour to ask."
"Yes?"
"Are any of the CDEM monitoring stations still active?"
"Some," he said, "but mostly the automated surveillance platforms. We withdrew the majority of our troops, and the asari and salarians followed suit soon after."
Convenient, since the ending of the CDEM mission had been one of Wrex's demands. "Can we patch my ship into them? We might be able to track Reaper movements on the planet using them."
"Of course. I'll have one of my aides organise it with Lieutenant Traynor."
"Thanks."
“What happened here…” Garrus shook his head. A dead husk was slumped at his feet, a few holes blown in it courtesy of Lance Corporal Araullo, one of First Squad’s machine-gunners. “Let's just say turian society will not be kind on Lieutenant Victus. And potentially not Victus Senior, either, if people think he put his son in a position he couldn't handle out of favouritism."
"You know what I think about frontal assaults, Garrus," Shepard said standing beside him and watching two Marines struggle to pop open the door of a turian escape pod, "I can't judge the lieutenant for this, especially without all the facts."
"I know."
"I get that," Vega said from Shepard's other shoulder, "but what I don't get is - why send an Armiger platoon on a mission of 'galactic importance' but send a butterbar to lead it? Aren't Armigers usually led by Senior Lieutenants?"
"They are," Garrus had been wondering the same thing, and from Shepard's thoughtful expression under her visor, so had she.
The door of the escape pod popped off and the two Marines, Lance Corporal Macar and PFC Rusnak, stumbled away, swearing in their respective languages. Rusnak fell to his knees and barely got his helmet off in time to vomit. The strench of death and blood emanated.
Garrus poked his head in and winced. The pod must have been damaged during the shoot down and had failed to deaccelerate correctly. Its occupants had been smeared across the near bulkhead in a mess of splintered armour, plates, bone and entrails.
"No survivors, Captain," he said grimly, stepping back.
"Let's keep moving. On your feet, Rusnak."
"A-aye ma'am," the Marine wiped his mouth and put his helmet back on.
They swept forward, through the ruins of a krogan city. First Squad was on point, with Third bringing up the rear, Garrus, Shepard and Vega, the acting platoon commander, sandwiched in between. Second Squad, who'd gotten the worst of the nightmarish mission with the now decimated Aralakh, had been given the role of reserves for this one.
Garrus watched the backs of the loose triangle of Marines moving in front of him, and suddenly had a sharp stab of nostalgia for 2183 and a different team of human Marines. Was it strange to miss an old war? He'd had his times missing the SR1 on the Citadel and then Omega, but maybe it was more missing the people you'd gone through that hell with. Alenko, Ki-tae, Waaberi, Dubyansky...
The list was long and he knew it was going to get longer.
The sky was smeared with black smoke from the burning warship. During the crash, it'd set part of the ruins on fire. They had to detour around the worst of it, clambering down levels of dubiously stable ancient buildings.
"Picking up a turian transponder ahead, ma'am," Sergeant Aislinn O'Neal called back to Shepard. "Another escape pod, I think."
Ahead, Garrus heard the familiar roar of Phaestons firing.
"Got a firefight up ahead," Corporal Hakim reported. His team was in a rough triangle and taking point.
"Sounds like live turians. Pick it up," Shepard responded.
When they rounded the slab of long broken concrete that separated them from the firefight, they found a handful of turians in red Armiger armour crouching in the rubble near their crashed escape pod, trying to fight off a wave of human and batarian husks. Gunfire split the air.
Neither side had noticed them yet, and Shepard took the moment to order them to take up a position where they could fire into the husks at an angle - hopefully preventing friendly fire.
To help that along, in the moment before they opened fire, Garrus shouted, pitching his subvocals and voice to carry over the gunfire, "Friendlies!"
The Marines' four Typhoons opened up in a hail of fire, scything the surprised husks down ruthlessly. It was nice to be the ones ambushing instead of being ambushed. Garrus noted a flash of blue-grey and peered through the scope of his marksman rifle. A huskified turian was taking aim at one of the machine-gunners, half hidden by rubble.
He pulled the trigger smoothly three times. The husk jerked and went down.
"Nice shot, Scars," Vega whistled.
"Thanks-"
Something exploded to his right. His ears rang, the shockwave rattling his very bones. A shadow passed overhead and he looked up, up at the winged monstrosity overhead. Its mouth gaped, two cannons stitched either side, Reaper tech spliced into its chest and limbs.
"They huskified harvesters," he said aloud, "of course they did." He shot at it, but his round seemed to just deflect off its armoured flanks.
"Kurwa! My legs!" It was Rusnak crying out. The harvester had targeted one of the machinegun positions - he could see a couple of blue-armoured figures on the ground and one of the Typhoons had fallen silent.
"Rockets!" Shepard was shouting, "Rocket the motherfucker!"
The first rocket missed, smashing into the ruins behind it with the shattering of concrete. The second hit it in the chest, punching a huge, bleeding wound into it. The harvester screamed and after a moment, wheeled and fled.
When it was clear it wasn't coming back, Garrus left cover, jogging after Shepard, who was walking towards the turians.
"Captain Shepard, Alliance Navy," she told their leader, a Master Corporal by her insignia. She was bleeding from two wounds to her legs, but she was on her feet. All the turians who'd survived in this escape pod were wounded. One was propped up against some rubble clenching his Phaeston, his leg clearly broken.
"Master Corporal Palinis, ma'am." Her orange eyes slid to Garrus as he came up, quizzical. She had to be wondering what Alliance troops were doing on Tuchanka, especially accompanied by a Hierarchy officer. "We didn't think anyone was coming for us."
"The Primarch sent me," Shepard said.
"Ma'am," Vega came up behind them, "Kovalenko said Rusnak and Araullo need to be medevaced, Araullo as soon as possible. Hakim got pinged, but he says he's good to keep going."
"Palinis," Shepard said, looking at the turian again, "I'd be honoured if you'll defend my wounded until my shuttle can get in."
If Palinis was relieved at the out Shepard was giving her, it was hidden behind a stoic expression. She nodded. "Of course, Spectre."
"Thanks. Vega, leave a first aider with the wounded and we'll keep moving."
"Aye ma'am," there was something conflicted in Vega's eyes whenever he was reminded he was now acting platoon commander. Given how solid the Marine had been otherwise, it surprised Garrus.
"Master Corporal, can you patch us into your comm network? I need to contact the rest of your platoon."
Palinis brought up her omnitool and did as ordered. Her movements were mechanical and despite her stoic demeanor, Garrus was glad she wasn't coming with them. He knew the look of a soldier who was reaching their limit when he saw it.
"Garrus, get in contact with Victus. Get him to mark his position. I'm gonna call in the medevac."
Palinis' voice was a low growl. "Make sure you tell him they'll hang him for this."
Garrus stepped away from the seething NCO and opened the comm channel.
This was a goddamn mess. Shepard sucked down a gulp of water from her suit's hydration system. The turians had taken heavy casualties and they were demoralised, close to mutiny. Turian discipline was legendary, but at the end of the day they were still people. And people had limits.
The main body of the survivors had taken up positions on a plateau of rock with decent cover, and now she'd arranged her own people to take up the perimeter. There were a lot of wounded turians who'd play no further part in this battle, and she needed to get them to the ship's medbay.
And with one Kodiak, that would take time.
She turned, looking past Victus Junior - who right now looked as much like a kicked puppy as she'd ever seen a turian look, and God, she wished his platoon sergeant hadn't died in the crash - at the shuttle he and the turians here had escaped their ship on. It was bigger than a Kodiak and much more heavily armed, designed to fulfil a gunship role as well as a transport one.
Shepard keyed her comm, "Overlord, this is Ranger Six, over."
Traynor answered. "Ranger Six, Overlord, go ahead, over."
"Can you ask the Primarch's staff if anyone can fly a DS-67 Sanctius? Over."
"Standby, over."
The shuttle looked fine, but the pilot had been killed by the Reapers after landing.
Lieutenant Victus straightened as she approached.
"Lieutenant," she said, looking him over. "You need to come clean with me and tell me what your mission is before I help you abandon it."
Vital to galactic security, Victus Senior had said.
"It's classified," Victus began,
Need to know, but she needed to know. "I might not be Hierarchy but I'm an allied officer who risked my life and that of my peoples' to save your asses, and more importantly, I'm a Spectre. What is your mission, Lieutenant?"
He looked at his feet. "There's a nuclear bomb. In the Kelphic Valley. We were sent to disarm it and now...an advance force of batarians seized it."
"A bomb..." the Kelphic Valley was full of krogan female clans and their children. Her stomach dropped out. God-fucking-damn it Victus. "Lieutenant, if indoctrinated troops have that bomb, this mission has to be completed."
They'd set it off and everything would be ruined. She wanted to punch something.
Victus shook his head. "We've taken too many casualties to be combat effective-"
"Then I'll come with you!" she growled, cutting off when she saw curious gazes starting to settle on them. Shepard grabbed the turian by the arm and pulled him behind the Sanctius so they could talk officer to officer.
Wall to fucking wall if need be.
"If that bomb goes off, we're all screwed and I don't have people trained to defuse it."
"My men don't want to fight-"
"Well, tough shit, Lieutenant," she hissed, stepping closer. and glaring at him. Despite the clear height difference, Tarquin took a step back. "It's your job to convince them to do it anyway. You don't get to walk away from this. If that bomb goes off, millions of innocent people are going to die, and any hope for Palaven and Earth dies with them."
"How?" he said, almost plaintively, "they already resented me when I was assigned to lead this mission, and now they won't listen to me."
That made a lot of sense. Primarch Victus had wanted someone he trusted completely on as mission with such cataclysmic political implications, and the platoon had resented the parachuting in of a butterbar.
She gentled her tone. "I understand how difficult this is. Asking for this kind of sacrifice is one of the hardest things to do as an officer." Old memories of Elysium threatened to bubble up. Tan lying in the dirt, blood soaking his hawaiian shirt. Vanh missing the back of her skull. Rosie's blood on her face. They'd stood in front of a battalion because she'd asked them to, and they’d paid for it. "Remind them what they're fighting for, of their honour. For Palaven, for your people. If this mission fails, the soldiers who died here today died for nothing. Make it mean something."
He straightened his shoulders and nodded. As she watched him leave, his voice rising with a confidence she hadn't heard from him yet, her comm buzzed.
"Ranger Six, Overlord. Captain Isanion said she's qualified with the Sanctius. She asked if you require her presence on the ground. Over."
Well, that was one problem worked out. "Affirmative. Put her on the first flight down, over."
"Urdnot Wrex also wants to speak with you, over."
The first wounded turians had probably alerted him to something being up. "Not possible right now, over."
"He's quite insistent, over."
Shepard winced. "He's going to have to wait. Ranger out."
The drop was the only part that went smoothly. On the shuttle ride over, Vega had listened as Lieutenant Victus admit to Shepard that the bomb hadn't been set by the batarians as he'd implied - it was in fact a turian bomb, planted after the Krogan Rebellions as a 'safeguard'. For a moment Shepard's expression had been murderous, before she'd gone cool and collected, grimly stating that they really couldn't afford to fail then.
Isanion and Cortez had deposited the two platoons - well, one Marine squad and what was left of the turian platoon - behind a block of large, square krogan buildings of dubious stability. The bomb was located on the other side - the batarian company holding these ruins had brought equipment to dig it up from where the turians had buried it long ago.
Almost as soon as they were on the ground though, things went right to shit.
"Incoming!"
The ground in front of Vega exploded. Instinct made him throw up an arm against it even as his shields flared around him.
Mortar fire. Of course the bastards had brought mortars.
"Three o'clock!" Shepard shouted, "Move two hundred metres. Go!"
And then they were running for their lives as mortar rounds exploded around them, Vega pushing PFC Garane ahead of him when the Swedish Marine stumbled. There was no time to worry about what Victus and his platoon were doing - just to hope they had their own 'react to indirect fire' drills and would be also getting the fuck out of the open.
Somehow, they managed to get into the ruins and when he did a quick head count, he was relieved that everyone seemed to be there.
"Report," he panted.
"One up and up!" Corporal Hakim responded. There were two patches of medigel on his arm, but if he was in pain, the man hadn't complained on the shuttle ride over.
"Two up and up," Corporal Leach, leaning against the thick concrete wall beside her to regain her breath.
The edge of anxious energy in his gut settled.
"We're good to go, Staff Sergeant," O'Neal said.
"Good. Let's get moving. 9th Platoon is on our flank, so no one shoot any turians."
"Four eyes bad, two good," Garane said slyly and the captain didn't respond.
The bomb was fucking huge. Shepard looked up at it, suspended by the crane the batarians had used to pull it out of its ancient grave and felt a bit sick. Old bombs were dangerous, nukes even more so, especially when they were so bloody enormous. If it went off...they were looking at millions of dead and injured given how heavily populated the valley was.
"I'll start disarming it," Victus said from her elbow, his face determined. "My people will defend the north arc of the site in preparation for the enemy counterattack."
She thought about saying belay that because her Marines were in better shape and the northern direction had more open ground for the enemy to land reinforcements. But the turians were more numerous still, and Cortez's attempt to land the rest of her Marines had been driven off courtesy of two anti-air missiles. He'd had to put them down several kilometres away, and it'd take time for the two squads, under Hohepa's leadership, to reach them, especially if they ran into contact of their own.
Shepard nodded. "Good luck, Victus."
"You too, Shepard."
The Marines arranged themselves in the broken ruins. There were two main stairways leading up to Victus' position. That would funnel the enemy, but there were no real good firing positions at the top, so she made the decision to push forward to the bottom of the stairs, leaving PFC Macar — now carrying Araullo's machinegun —up top and lying on his belly to overlook the stairs and the courtyard.
At least the rubble meant there was a lot of hard cover at the bottom of the stairs. Some of the fallen pillars were as thick as a krogan torso.
The first attack was a probing one. A handful of figures in rust-red armour darting out of a still upright doorway on the other side of the ancient courtyard. They were quickly forced to beat a hasty retreat by the full throated roar of the two Typhoons.
"Yeah, you fuckin' run," Lance Corporal Pandev muttered, pulling the lever on her LMG and slotting in a new heatsink. Shepard didn't share her sentiments. That was a scouting force, meant to see where they were and what they'd do.
Her worries were quickly proven founded.
A mortar round struck in the courtyard with a thunderous explosion, tossing up dirt and bits of masonry. Shepard dove down, clutching at her rifle.
"Keep your heads down!" she shouted before switching her comm on. The second and third rounds impacted, rattling her teeth and bones.
"Corpsman!" that was Demetriou, rolling around and clutching at her lower back, rifle and rocket launcher forgotten. Kovalenko, clearly judging the mortar might keep firing on them, started crawling over, the pale dirt of Tuchanka mixed with concrete dust coating her armour.
"EDI! Can you work out where the mortar fire is coming from? We're getting hammered here." Shepard was under no illusions as to how deadly artillery could be. Elysium had taught her that hard lesson ten years ago. Artillery didn't care how good a Marine you were or how much of a badass you thought you were, it'd blow you to bits all the same.
"I will triangulate using the ship's scanner, stand by."
Another barrage. This time the explosions were close, but not right on top of them. Hitting the turians, Shepard judged.
"Mortar located."
"Tell Wulandri to blow it the fuck up!"
"Relaying."
Again, the shells fell around them.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," PFC Garane went to sit up, like he could outrun a mortar shell. Shepard reached over and grabbed him by the back of his webbing and pushed him back down, pinning him there with her cybernetic strength.
"Stay the fuck down, PFC," she growled. He was trembling under her grip.
The explosions fell silent. Her ears rang, but EDI's voice coming through her ear piece was one of the sweetest things she'd heard in a while.
"Target is down, Shepard."
"Thanks, EDI. You're my favourite warship."
"I would hope so," she said, almost primly.
"Mortar's down," she told the Marines and then jogged over to where Kovalenko was tending to Demetriou, who was lying on her stomach. Shrapnel had left bleeding holes in her lower back, now plugged with medigel. Corporal Leach had already grabbed Demetriou's rocket launcher and had it leaning against the block of rubble in front of her.
Kovalenko looked up. It'd been a busy day for the corpsman already. "Shrapnel missed her spine but she needs Chakwas."
"I can't medevac her yet," Shepard said. She couldn't risk the shuttles getting shot down and they certainly couldn't leave their position.
Kovalenko nodded, like she'd been expecting that. "She's Cat two, I'll let you know if that changes. Today's your lucky day, Demetriou."
Demetriou groaned. "How is this lucky?"
"You get to have some very Special K."
"Yay, drugs," Demetriou said, deadpan.
"Contact!" Hakim shouted, and there was no more time to worry about the downed Lance Corporal as gunfire raked over the Normandy team's position.
"Shatha Six, this is Ranger Six," she said tersely, "in contact. Platoon sized infantry element, over."
When Victus' voice came over the comm channel, it was tense, "Copy. We're being pressed hard and we're taking casualties. I'm not sure how much longer we can hold, over."
"How much longer on the bomb, over?"
"The trigger mechanism - one side of it is rusted on. I'm going to have to manually remove it. Over."
Fuck. "Copy. Ranger out."
She'd been trying not to think of the last mission she'd been on involving a nuclear bomb, but the parallels with Virmire were there, pricking her like thorns pressed into her skin.
"Vega," she made her way over to the Staff Sergeant, wincing as rounds snapped overhead.
He glanced over at her in between taking shots with his Valkyrie assault rifle. "Ma'am?"
"Hold this position. Garrus and I are gonna go make sure Tarquin Victus doesn't get shot. Call in fire from the Normandy if you need it." She didn't want to risk the ship in atmo, not with Victus Senior and Wrex aboard, but it could still do precision strikes with its orbit to ground missiles.
Something like fear flashed across the burly NCO's face but then he nodded. "Aye ma'am."
"Vakarian! C'mon!"
The two of them ran for the stairs, batarian fire chasing them. Shepard spared a moment to hope that she'd read James Vega right - that when it came down to it, he was a good Marine and leader, and as soon as he got out of his head about Fehl Prime, he'd remember it - and to wish Liara hadn't gotten injured on the last mission.
They sprinted past Macar, shooting in bursts down at the batarians, and clambered up towards where the bomb was.
The situation they came across was - less than ideal.
The surviving turians had withdrawn to protect their commander, but the batarians were coming up the opposite stairway. And Tarquin - Tarquin was balanced on top of the giant bomb, prying at the last clasp holding the detonating charge to the nuke.
"Garrus, overload," she said, pointing, and as always, as soon as she said it he was launching a tech grenade at the group of batarian soldiers coming up the stairs. As soon as it went off, she was gone in a thunderclap of biotic energy.
She slammed into the pointman, knocking him head over ass down the stairs, a fall he didn't get back up from. And then she focused on her barrier, pushing it aggressively apart until it exploded out. One batarian was instantly killed, two others thrown back.
Shepard rolled for cover and started firing at the survivors with her rifle. Without their shields up, courtesy of Garrus, they died quickly.
Garrus slid into cover on the opposite side of the stairs. "Spirits, I hate it when you do that."
She smirked, sinking back into her own cover now he was here to swap over her shield battery. The barrier trick had proven devasting, but it kept shorting out her shields.
She heard a few distinct sounds of metal crunching. The enemy had spotted what Victus was trying to do and were shooting at him. Heedless of the impacts around him, some close enough to light up his shields, the turian lieutenant continued pulling free the bolts holding the rusted clasp onto the bomb.
It was one of the braver things Shepard had seen, and she was also fairly concerned it was going to get him killed.
"Shit, we need to give him some covering fire."
They fired down at the batarian positions, but the return fire was withering, forcing them back into cover all too often to switch out their shield batteries.
There was a shout of victory from the turian lieutenant and a great crash as the detonator fell free, but it was quickly followed by a cry of pain. Shepard spun - just in time see Tarquin fall, the metal framework of the bomb painted with blue turian blood.
Not today, Lieutenant. She flung out a desperate hand and pulled with her biotics. Purple-blue wrapped around the falling man and he sailed across the distance between them. Seven feet of armoured turian slammed into her, knocking her off her feet.
She sat up, half cradling Tarquin Victus. "Lieutenant? Lieutenant Victus!"
He wasn't moving. Her hands on his chest came away coated with blood and the dust of pulverised ceramic plating. A machinegun burst had struck him in the back, his chest ripped open by the exit wounds.
"Shepard?" Garrus called out.
She gently rolled Tarquin off her and did a quick medscan. Asystole. One of the bullets had passed through his heart. "He's dead."
"In here, Primarch," the freezer was cold enough to make Shepard's teeth start to chatter. Victus followed her quietly. He'd been solemn, even with Wrex in his face, furious about the bomb and the secrecy.
He was silent now.
Shepard had bit back the urge to apologise. He hadn't asked her to try and bring his son back alive, a promise she knew better than to give anyway.
The turians had been put in the ship's freezer in body bags. She stopped in front of one. "Here, sir."
Victus came to a stop and reached out, claws just barely touching the plastic. "I would like some privacy, Captain."
"Of course." Shepard turned to go.
"My son," his voice didn't crack, "he died with the respect of his soldiers. Thank you."
"It's moments like that where people show who they really are," Shepard replied softly.
"Yes. Yes, it is."
As she reached the door she heard the sound of a zipper being drawn down.
Liara was standing in the mess hall, two cups in hand. Her sprained arm was still in a brace.
"Hey."
"Here. You look like you need it."
She took the mug and took a long sip of coffee. "Thanks."
"How are the Marines that were wounded?"
"Chakwas said all but Araullo will be fine. Her...we'll need to drop her off at a hospital at some point. She's stable but she'll be out for a few months."
Liara's blue eyes studied her. "I watched Garrus' hardsuit camera footage. It...hit close to home. I know it's not the same as Virmire, but..."
"He sacrificed himself, like Kaidan did," Shepard finished. "Yeah." She glanced over towards where the memorial war was, and Kaidan's name.
Liara reached over and touched her arm gently. They stood there for a long moment, coffee and tea in hand.
"Professor Solus," Liara said at last to break the quiet, "said his cure is nearly complete. Wrex has called the clans together."
"We're so close. This will work. It has to."
Codex Entry
Relationship Between NCOs, Enlisted and Officers:
The three segments of the Alliance rank structure all have their unique culture and foibles. They’re also not always keen on each other, though some relationships, much like some marriages, are far better than others.
The roles of the three groups can be summarised as follows: the officers think, the NCOs enact, the enlisted men do.
For example, take a simple assault. A lieutenant is ordered to take a hill - he will think of a plan to take the position; his NCOs will enact the plan, and the enlisted will do whatever it is the plan dictates they do.
Of course, all this assumes the working relationship between the three is smooth as clockwork, which it rarely is. The officer corps has been said to own the military, and with their higher level of education, command responsibilities and paygrade this is not exactly inaccurate. It’s the officers who dictate policy, strategy, and anything else that happens to need doing, relying on their NCOs to help them get the job done. However, some officers find themselves possessing a certain arrogance along with their bars, which lends some friction to their relationships with their NCOs, and breeds resentment amongst the enlisted. Differences in MVC, say an Intelligence officer issuing an order that adversely affects an infantry unit, also breed distaste.
While officers might think they own the military, the NCOs are of the opinion that they are merely renting it out from them. Officers come and officers go, common wisdom holds, but NCOs are forever. A unit’s NCO corps provides it with continuity and espirit de corps with the noncoms enforcing discipline amongst the ranks as well. Senior NCOs (or Staff NCOs, as the Marines call them), with their great experience and knowledge of their area of the service, serve as advisors to a unit’s commanding officer. A unit’s top noncom can make or break it. NCOs tend to view themselves as the guardians of the Alliance’s professionalism and ability to provide a good fighting force, no matter what MVC they may hold, and can thus be somewhat contemptuous towards both officers and enlisted men---though the best noncoms work to strengthen members of both groups in their unit.
The enlisted personnel are those who make the military go. A well-thought out, well-led plan is worthless without the junior enlisted personnel to carry out the dictates of that plan. Accordingly the old wisdom of faecal matter rolling down a hill holds very true for a PFC or private’s duties. The mundane make-work of keeping barracks clean, uniforms and kit squared away, largely fall to the junior enlisted. Accordingly they tend to be rather judgemental of their superiors---of their NCOs for enforcing seemingly ridiculous standards at the expense of practical matters, of their officers for receiving superiority without experience and for perceived (or actual) incompetence. Their motivation can vary---some love the military, some are just marking time until they get out. In short, it is hard to make generalisations about the enlisted personnel as a whole, but it is harder to still to overstate their importance to keeping the military running.
Chapter 22: Queen of Tuchanka
Chapter Text
Pain pulsed up Shepard’s arm. There was the taste of copper on her tongue and when she looked up she could see the stars through the peeled back skin of the Normandy. She was alone with the sound of her breathing inside her helmet.
When she looked down at her aching arm, she saw the worming of black-blue cabling, burrowing into the acid-pitted skin, the ceramic of her armour boiled away. Her head felt like it was caught in a vice.
“Shepard.”
She turned at the familiar whisper, but there was no one behind her.
“I think we both know that’s not going to happen-”
The pain was splitting. She groaned, grabbing at her face with cybernetic fingers.
“Shepard,” Kaidan Alenko said and somehow she was on her knees, looking up at him. He looked down at her and extended a hand.
She reached for him and the fire engulfed them both.
Shepard woke with her breathing harsh in her own ears. Her cabin was quiet except for the hum of life support and the sound of water from the fish tank. She rolled onto her side, kicking off her blanket.
Her heartbeat was a gallop in her chest and she raised her hands in front of her. Brown, human skin.
She breathed out unsteadily and reached for the painkillers on her bedside table.
“Shepard, there is a call for you in the war room,” EDI announced.
Shepard swallowed the pill. “Who from?”
“Admiral Anderson. The Resistance has recovered one of the QECs left on Earth for this eventuality.”
“Shit,” she straightened. She hadn’t been expecting that. “I’ll be right there.”
When she reached the QEC and the image resolved, the sight of Anderson was a punch in the gut. The good kind. She hadn’t let herself think about him, back on Earth without her, but seeing him made her realise just how much she’d missed him.
He looked good, considering, tired but alert, dressed in fatigues and a vest, rifle over his shoulder.
“Sir,” she said with a nod.
He smiled. “Getting all formal on me, Shepard?”
She huffed half a laugh. “I’m glad you haven’t got your ass shot, Anderson.”
He chuckled. “That’s more like it. You’re a sight for sore eyes - heard you haven’t wasted any time. Already trying to unite the galaxy, from what I hear.”
She grimaced and scratched at her jaw. “Trying to, is the operative word.”
“More than others are doing. If you can swing this thing with the turians and the krogan, we’ve got the start of something special.”
“Yeah, just gotta try and save the galaxy with everyone busy watching their own backs,” Shepard said dryly.
“You’ve got this, Shepard,” Anderson said, and he seemed a lot more certain of it than she felt.
“How are things on Earth?”
Anderson sighed heavily. “I’ve linked the Alliance forces still on the planet with groups of Earth military and even civilians who’ve started resisting, but we’re having to lay low. Conventional warfare won’t get us anywhere. All too many cities are going quiet. A lot of the Earth governments are indoctrinated, so sometimes we’re getting into firefights with our own as well.”
“Shit.”
“Pretty much. You and I - we knew what we were in for, but everyone else? The shock is still there.”
“I can imagine.”
“We’re trying to get civilians out of the big cities - that’s where the Reapers are focusing their efforts. They’ve created camps, and most who go in - well, they don’t come out.”
“I don’t know how we’ll win this thing, Anderson,” she said, some mix of determination and anger burning in her voice, “but we will, even if it kills me.”
A sad smile flitted across his broad features. “Let’s not tempt fate, Emilia.”
Everytime she was reminded of the…grief those that loved her had been through in the years she’d been gone, her chest twisted up. She fought the urge to apologise. “I’ll come for you, Anderson, I promise.”
“I know you will, Shepard. And in the meantime, we’ll keep the home fires burning for you. Keep yourself safe.”
“You too, sir.”
“We’ll talk again soon. Anderson out.”
She found herself looking into the blue grid left behind when his holo winked out. She wished they were fighting together, again, that his advice was easily accessible. She wished for a lot of things.
“Captain,” EDI said, “I have finished my reconnaissance scans. I’m afraid there is a complication for our upcoming operation. Urdnot Wrex has requested a meeting in the briefing room.”
Shepard sighed. Of course.
Mordin Solus was singing again.
Once upon a time, perhaps Bakara would have hated this situation - cooped up in a small medbay designed for much smaller human bodies with a salarian scientist. Now, she dozed fitfully, his singing an almost soothing background overlaying the hums and noises of the ship.
It was nearly time.
Soon Bakara would be on Tuchanka again, her homeworld’s dirt on her boots, its air in her lungs. Wrex had called a crush of the clans, to bring together the army that would help save the galaxy. She had missed it. Even the Normandy felt wrong and artificial, even if it was better than the salarian labs.
The door to the medbay hissed open, booted footsteps against metal decking.
“Mordin,” Captain Shepard said, “we’re good to go?”
“Yes, yes, Maelon’s work invaluable. Should limit adverse effects on Eve’s health.”
“Good,” Shepard said with feeling. Bakara was not certain of the source of Shepard’s concern for the krogan - whether it was the kindness the human had shown her, love for Wrex or simply practicality and the desire to save her own people. Perhaps it was a mix of all three.
In the end, it mattered little, so long as Shepard did what the krogan needed of her.
“Can I speak to Eve?”
“Of course, Captain,” Bakara said, sitting up from the medbay bed. The name Mordin had given her was fitting, and she found herself amused but pleased by his insistence that calling her ‘the female’ was depersonalising.
“Sorry, didn’t realise you were awake,” Shepard said, hopping up to sit on the bed across from her.
“There is no offense.”
“I regret we haven’t had much time to speak,” Shepard rubbed one of the scars on her jawline, “I feel that a lot of decisions have been made for you, with less input from you than I’d like.” She frowned. “I’m sorry for my part in that.”
“This has been bothering you,” Bakara observed. Few had asked her what she wanted since she’d been plucked from Tuchanka’s surface.
“I know what it’s like to have choices about my body and future made without my consent,” Shepard said darkly, “the experience has never been fun. You’ve had a heavy burden placed on you.”
When Bakara was younger and angrier, she might have mistaken Shepard’s concern for doubt in her strength. She was wiser now.
“Yes, but so have you.”
Shepard blinked and looked away. There was pain there, carried with grim determination. “I chose to join the military.”
“And I chose to go with Maelon,” Bakara said calmly, “Do you know how krogan shamans are initiated, Captain?”
“No, I don’t.”
“You are buried in a cave with enough food for seven days, and given a choice - claw your way out with your bare hands or die.”
“Brutal,” Shepard observed, her dark brown eyes flicking to meet Bakara’s gaze. It was rare to find a human so willing to meet a krogan’s eyes.
“Yes, but it was illuminating. You appreciate the light most after being in the dark. I began to dig the wrong way, alone in the darkness with my own heartbeat as my only solace, until exhausted, I collapsed.” She touched the sharp edged crystal in one of her robe pockets, where it had stayed since the day she had crawled out of the tunnel with bloody hands, “I found a simple crystal, hardy enough to use as a chisel.”
“Damn,” the human said simply.
“I have no illusions as to the difficulty of the path I have chosen, Captain, but regardless, it is one I will walk. Wrex and I will rule Tuchanka - together, and I will ensure our women have a voice in the new world. A world in which revenge is no longer as important as our children and our future. A world in which our women can choose their own futures, whether as mothers or not, where traits beyond brute strength can be appreciated. No longer will we be pawns in the games of power hungry males.”
“That’s a future I can fight for,” Shepard crossed her arms.
“I hope my people will say the same.” Bakara drew the crystal out of her pocket. “Here, Captain. Take this as a reminder: in the darkest hour there is always a way out.” She dropped it into the human's small, fragile hand, and Shepard wrapped her fingers around it.
Something flashed across Shepard’s face.
“Thank you, shaman.”
She tilted her head. “Something is bothering you.”
Shepard hesitated and then appeared to make a decision. “Yes, but Wrex and Mordin should hear this too. EDI, please get Wrex up here and then go into privacy mode.”
“As you wish, Captain,” the AI replied.
In the minutes it took for Wrex to arrive, Shepard began to pace, her arms crossed across her chest and her expression stormy. Occasionally she would glance down at the crystal chisel in her hand or at Bakara.
Something within the human was being weighed up.
Wrex appeared, his footsteps heavy. “What is it? Shouldn’t you be getting ready, Shepard?”
Shepard’s eyes darted between Bakara and Wrex and then Mordin. “Dalatrass Linron tried to get me to sabotage the genophage cure.”
Wrex went still, observing his krannt with gleaming red eyes. “In return for what?”
“Salarian support for the Alliance.” Shepard brought up her omnitool, “I…said I’d do it - so she’d tell me what they’d done. They’ve sabotaged the Shroud facility to make sure it can’t be used as a vector. Mordin, I’ll send you the details. Can you counteract it?”
Mordin scanned whatever Shepard had sent him. “Yes, can account for it.”
Shepard's posture relaxed. “Good.”
“You weren’t sure, before our conversation,” Bakara said simply.
Shepard shook her head adamantly, “I was never going to do it - but I wasn’t sure if telling you two was the best idea. But…you deserve to know what she tried to do.”
Wrex let a heavy hand fall on Shepard’s shoulder and turned his head towards Bakara, “I told you we could count on her.”
“Captain, we are on approach trajectory,” EDI announced.
“Time to get this show on the road. Good luck, everyone.”
In theory, the operation Shepard, Urdnot Wrex and Primarch Victus had decided on was simple enough. But war was rarely simple in Shepard’s experience, and the requirement of turian and salarian involvement on Tuchanka presented - complications.
The shuttle bay of the Normandy was full of noise and the rush of air as the first shuttle lifted off. Mordin fussed, making sure the blanket was secured around Eve’s bulk. Immune-compromised, difficulties with temperature regulation. Eve seemed more amused than annoyed by him.
“Ranger is away,” Shepard said into her radio. Her Marines were attacking without her, under the command of Vega, to secure an old ground-to-orbit facility seized by batarian forces. Soon, the krogan would also begin attacks across the planet against Reaper forces, with the cannons and turian aircraft clearing the air for the armour and infantry. She wasn’t convinced that Vega was fully over Fehl Prime, but he’d taken his orders with little resistance, and she had faith that his sense of responsibility would win over his self doubt.
The idea was to mislead the Reapers or at least tie up much of their still light presence so Wrex’s troops and the turian air wing could punch their way to the Reaper and the Shroud tower.
“Are you sure we have to have this crush before launching the attacks?” Shepard grumbled at Wrex.
“If we want the troops to pull this off - yes. Relax, Shepard. Your warriors don’t need you going all mother hen on them,” Wrex chuckled.
“Fuck you, Wrex,” Shepard said with a small smirk before sobering, “but if any of my people get hurt because your brother is being an asshole, I’ll kill him.”
Wrex shrugged his huge shoulders. “I won’t stop you.”
“Let’s load up.”
Vega stepped over a broken batarian corpse. This was one of the ‘normal’ ones, but the body next to it was one of those ‘cannibals’. He just didn’t get it. No one could have ever convinced him to fight along husks.
The old fire control room of the ancient krogan guns was a square shape. One of the batarians had died slumped over the controls.
“Form a perimeter,” he told the sergeants and turned to the controls. He grabbed the batarian by his dark-grey SIU armour and heaved him off, dropping him to the ground with a meaty thud. Blood covered the controls.
Good thing no one was expecting him to work out how to use this thing.
“Ranger, this is Overlord, over.” The XO.
“Overlord, Ranger, over.”
“We have a gatecrasher incoming. Cerberus cruiser. We’ve moving to intercept, but they’ve already launched some shuttles, so you might have some additional company shortly. Over.”
The turians had sent ships - a carrier, and its escorts - but the Normandy was the only ship with a lot of leeway to move around and engage enemies. Although, if she was busy, things might get dicey for Shepard and the krogan.
“Can EDI still assist with the gun, over?”
“Affirm. The sooner you get the guns up the better. Overlord, out.”
“Prepare for contact,” Vega called out to the Marines. He opened his omnitool and EDI’s blue hologram popped up. “So uh…how do I put you into the computer?”
“Stand by,” the AI replied, “uploading.”
“Shuttle incoming!” Corporal Li called out from where she was crouching beside one of the long blown out windows. A white-hulled shuttle was skimming across the tops of the nearby ruins, thrusters bright blue in the dusty air.
“Meddy! Dressler!” Hohepa called to her squad’s machine gunner and AT rocketeer.
"I see it!" Medeiros yelled while Dressler was clearing a stoppage in his machine gun. "I see it."
Dressler rushed to stand over her shoulder while Medeiros retrieved her launcher.
"Range: 350," he said in a low, hurried voice, "Speed: fucking quick."
"Roger," She aimed for a moment, unblinking, setting a point in the sky where she anticipated the shuttle would cross over. "Fire in the hole!" Then, she fired.
It was a good shot. The rocket impacted near the rear thrust, ripping it off. The shuttle went into a flat spin before careening into the courtyard. Flames soon engulfed the wreckage.
Vega put a hand on Dressler’s shoulder. “Hose any of them that try to get out of that.”
"Yes boss!" Dressler finished clearing the jam. The door of the shuttle tried to open, but only managed a quarter before it stuck. A tear in the hull was instead the exit point.
The first trooper, seemingly uninjured, managed to evade the burs from Dressler as he climbed out and leaped into cover. The second, much slower, wasn't so lucky, catching six rounds into his chest and falling back inside. To prevent anyone else from attempting an exit, Dressler suppressed the hole.
"One got out," he said on the net. "Left side, but I can't see him."
“As soon as he pokes his head out, we’ll get the fucker,” Hohepa said calmly, sighting down her Valkyrie.
What none of them were expecting was the distinctive thunderclap of a biotic charging. The next minute someone was crashing into Vega’s chest, sending him tumbling. The biotic was fast - too fast, sweeping out a hand and sending a wave of biotic energy cascading across the room.
Hohepa crashed into the console with a groan of pain.
And then there was a fucking sword in Vega’s face. He managed to get his rifle up just as the woman stabbed down, the point stopping ten centimetres from his throat. How the fuck was she so strong?
The visor was polarised but he almost thought he could see the glint of blue beneath it.
Watts' Mattock came to bear, but before he could shoot, the Cerbie raised a hand, the air rippling around her as the bullets disintegrated into nothing.
"She's biotic!"
“No fucking shit!” Vega yelled. While she was distracted by Watts’ attempt on her life, he managed to get his feet up and kick with all his might. She flew off him. The last time he’d felt strength like that was when he’d sparred with Shepard.
The Cerberus trooper landed beside Dressler, who had abandoned his machinegun on the window and drawn his sidearm from his chest holster.
He leaned forward, squeezing off two rounds into her head. She jolted after the first, almost launching herself up, but the second caused her to crumple and lie still.
He leaned forward slightly further and retrieved the sword that had clattered beside her.
"Coooooooool!"
"Dressler, you fucking moron!' Medeiros snapped. "Get back on your machinegun!"
"Oh right!"
Grunts. Vega got to his feet and retrieved his rifle. “Everyone okay?”
“Might have sprained something,” Hohepa said from where she was gingerly getting back up, “but I’m alright.”
“I have control,” EDI announced, “acquiring target.”
“The fuck are you going to do with a sword?” Li asked Dressler sceptically.
Dressler shot at two troopers who were advancing between cover towards them. "Carry it into battle of course-!" He shouted between bursts. "Take photos of me posing with it and use it to pull chicks in bars!"
"To be fair to Alex," Watts said, squeezing off a perfect headshot. "Why the fuck did she bring a sword?"
“Who the fuck knows what Cerberus is thinking these days,” Vega said dryly.
“Firing on target,” EDI said. Shortly after, the whole facility shook as the ancient guns fired.
“Now that’s a gun!” Li laughed, as close to cheery as Vega had ever heard the sarcastic corporal.
“Target breaking up in the atmosphere.” Did the AI sound satisfied?
Dressler and Watts cheered and whooped.
"Are there any more incoming shuttles?"
"How could there be?" Dressler jeered. "We just fuckin' iced them!"
Vega walked over to the dead Cerberus biotic, and before he could second guess himself, he wrenched her helmet off. Dressler had blown the back of her skull off, but Vega could still see her face. The eyes were a cold, cybernetic blue, and the skin was cracked in places in a criss cross pattern, blue light gleaming through.
The association with the red-glowing scars he’d seen on Shepard’s body welled up before he could stop it. He shook his head, like he could banish the thought, and walked away, clearing his throat. “There might still be stragglers, so don’t get complacent.”
That had been the stupidest thing Shepard had ever done.
Shepard stared for a long, disbelieving moment, at the giant sinkhole in the ground where Kalros had dragged the Reaper down into her crushing grasp. And then she let herself sink to her knees in the Tuchanka dirt.
Why was it always thresher maws?
“Shepard, are you well?” Liara, who looked as exhausted as Shepard felt under her visor, dropped a hand onto her shoulder.
“Yeah…yeah, just needed to catch my breath.”
“That video is going on the extranet,” Garrus declared.
Shepard climbed back to her feet as the surviving krogan IFVs rolled up behind them. Wrex was first out, covered in splatters of Reaper creature blood, followed by Eve and Mordin.
“The tower is damaged,” Shepard said urgently to Mordin. The fight between Reaper and thresher maw had been brutal, and the tower was burning. She couldn’t bear the thought that all of this was for nothing - but walking in the front door didn’t seem an option. Maybe a shuttle or something.
Mordin nodded, something determined flashing across his features. And then he began to walk towards the tower.
The fuck.
Shepard caught up with him in a few long, weary strides. “What are you doing?”
“Cure must be dispensed,” he said, almost serenely.
“Weren’t you listening? It’s too dangerous!” As if to punctuate what she’d said, a window far above them blew out in a billow of flame. She raised her hand against the radiant heat, felt even from this far away.
“No time, Shepard,” he insisted, not breaking his stride, “must counteract sabotage and ensure proper dispersal. Suggest moving back. Explosions likely to be…problematic.”
“Mordin-”
“Shepard,” he breathed in, as if steeling himself, “not coming back.”
Goddamnit. She’d lost too many friends already. “There has to be another way.”
“Shepard, please,” he said, even as he hit the button for the elevator up, “have to see this through. My project, my work, my cure. My responsibility.” He smiled, “Would have liked to run tests on sea shells.”
There was a hard lump in her throat. She touched his shoulder and let her hand drop. “I’m sorry.”
He stepped in the elevator and turned to face her, a smile breaking across his face. “I’m not. Had to be me. Someone else might have gotten it wrong.”
The elevator door shut between them and Shepard could only lift her hand in an all too inadequate goodbye.
Shepard slowly walked back towards the waiting krogan, each step heavy.
When she reached Wrex, she wasn’t prepared for him to step forward and pull her into a one-armed hug. It was rough, their size differences a little awkward. But she leant her visor against his armoured chest for a long moment before she stepped back. Together they watched the tower for a long, worried moment, witing with bated breath.
A current erupted from the tower, even as it burned, gleaming in the Tuchankan sunlight. The cure. Mordin had succeeded.
The air glittered with the airbourne particles of the cure, falling around her like snow. Her armoured fingers dipped into her webbing and curled around the sharp shard of crystal Eve had given her.
“Whatever he did before now,” Eve said pensively, looking up at the broken Shroud tower, “he is a hero today. This is a new beginning for all of us. It’s just a pity Mordin had to die for it to happen.”
“He did what he felt was right.”
“Mordin will be a name remembered,” the krogan woman promised.
“We’ll name one of the kids after him,” Wrex decided, “maybe one of the girls, heh.” Then he grabbed her by the shoulders, his eyes lit up, “And you, Shepard, will be known for what you are. A friend to Clan Urdnot. My sister. My family.”
She couldn’t help the smile that broke through the haze of grief hanging over her. “I like the sound of that.”
“You have your alliance,” Wrex promised, “krogan boots on Palaven - and on Earth, when the time comes.”
“And wherever you go, Captain Shepard,” Eve said, stepping forward when Wrex released her, “know that Urdnot Bakara calls you friend.”
Chapter 23: Shore Leave
Chapter Text
PART FOUR: ENEMY WITHIN
‘Betrayal is the only truth that sticks.’ - Arthur Miller.
Ashley Williams rubbed a hand over her face. Her office was quiet and dim except for the glow of her console. As a Spectre she got her own space with access to classified databases, all of the fun stuff - and most importantly it got her out from under Udina’s nose. He was driving her a little bit crazy.
She looked back at the screen, at a picture of the man who’d tried to kill her. Carl Reddy. He was exceedingly average, in a way that hadn’t triggered any concern from CSec or ONI. An Alliance veteran who’d done his four years in the Army before settling on Terra Nova with a wife and a couple of kids. Hadn’t had much interaction with the legal system besides a couple of parking fines.
He’d arrived on the Citadel a few weeks before he’d tried to shoot her in a cafe, sans the kids and wife. He’d been detained for a week before being released as part of a spate of refugees given residency by Udina’s intercession.
There weren’t even the irregularities in his service record that had tipped her off that something wasn’t right with the MP that had tried to kill Shepard while she was under arrest.
She clicked play for the second time on one of the recordings CSec had extracted from his omnitool calls. Most were to or from friends, his boss at a Citadel warehouse. And then there were the calls that had no ID CSec had been able to recover.
“The package will be waiting for you in Docking Bay A45 along with a permit. If you upload the permit to your omnitool, it should be sufficient if you’re stopped by regular CSec patrols.” The woman’s voice was honey-sweet and smooth.
Reddy sounded nervous. “I don’t know about this.”
“You’ll be doing humanity a service, and just remember what we’re doing in return.”
“They’ll be safe?”
“We promise.”
“Fuck. Okay. Fine. Docking Bay A45.”
The answer to who had been behind the attempt seemed pretty clear to Ash. Cerberus, trying to finish her off and not even having the courtesy to send an agent. But she didn’t have any real proof beyond these recordings, and beyond Reddy the trail went cold. CSec was trying to trace the gun he’d used, and the weapons permit, but until then she was spinning her wheels.
Ashley didn’t like where her mind was taking her with the permit. Permits that had to be supported by someone’s embassy, Reddy being put on a list of names to be signed off on by the human councillor.
She let out a breath and closed the recording. She couldn’t go accusing anyone in what was left of humanity’s civilian government of treason without hard evidence, without being damned sure.
She was a Marine, not a spy. A problem she could solve by shooting sounded real good right now.
Her office door dinged. She closed Reddy’s file.
“Yeah?”
Hernandez stuck her head in. “Can I come in, ma’am?”
“Of course. What’s up?”
There was a crease in between Maria’s dark eyebrows and she turned to make sure the door was shut properly before she turned back to Ash. “I was doing guard duty on the Councillor’s balcony and I - overheard something, and it’s worrying me enough that I came here instead of just forgetting about it like I should have.”
Ash thought of the permit and the residency and swallowed. “What was it?”
Hernandez hesitated and then rubbed at her face, worry painted across her normally sharp features. “Udina was talking to his assistant. They mentioned a video that the AIA had gotten from Sanctum, and he said ‘whatever happens, Williams can’t know about this.’”
“Did they say anything else?”
“No.”
“Good thing I’m a Spectre,” she commented and turned back to her console, typing the search terms into her VI program that could search Alliance and Spectre databases and intel services for her.
A few reports popped up but only one video, labelled Killing of Colonel Eban Sosparal. One of the AIA’s analysts had labelled it likely Cerberus activity. Commentary included a note that we have to assume this Prothean artefact is in Cerberus hands now.
She clicked play. Security camera footage of a warehouse.
When it was finished, she was silent for a long moment.
“Ma’am,” Hernandez began carefully.
Ashley shook her head. “That sort of thing can be fabricated.”
“Ash.”
“She was on Tuchanka. It wasn’t her.”
“Okay,” Hernandez said with a flash of concern across her face, “just be careful. Someone’s already tried to cap you once.”
“Good luck, Captain.” Primarch Victus had been reserved since the death of his son, and Shepard had decided to give him space to grieve where duty allowed it for both of them. And now, he was leaving the Normandy. The docking bay was full of turians - guards and aides, who would whisk him off to a meeting with Councillor Sparatus.
“It’s been an honour to have you aboard the Normandy, Primarch,” she said honestly.
“I’m sure you’ll be glad to have the dignitaries off your ship though,” he said with a hint of amusement, “and to get back to your normal operations.”
Not having to worry about putting the king of the krogan and the Primarch of Palaven in danger if she chose to go on a mission would be nice, she wouldn’t lie.
“There’s a lot more war to go, sir. I’m sure we’ll find that ‘normal operations’ is relative.”
“True. I meet with Admiral Hackett tonight to discuss your proposed new command structure.”
“Good to hear, sir.” Writing that paper had been decidedly strange. One day she was the terrible war criminal, the next she was working on proposals for Hackett from the Threat Assessment Office.
They shook hands and Victus was soon gone.
After a moment of second guessing herself as her crew started trickling out from the airlock onto the dock, she got a cab over to Ashley’s apartment.
Shepard knocked on the door before tucking her thumbs into her uniform belt. She had time to shift from foot to foot twice. Maybe she should have called ahead? Ashley might be busy or something-
The door slid open. Surprise washed over Ash’s face even as Shepard drank the sight of her in - barefoot and in sweatpants, hair up in a ponytail. And then she smiled, her whiskey-brown eyes lighting up. It was honestly unfair that someone could look so good in sweatpants and a t-shirt.
"Hey-" Shepard began, but then she was being seized by the front of her uniform, hauled forward, and her words were muffled by Ash's lips. She relaxed into it, her hands coming to Ash's hips, thumb sliding across the sliver of bare skin there exposed by her shirt. Ash's fingers came up to her jaw, tilting her face to deepen the kiss, and Shepard thought I love you and somewhere along the line you became like home.
It maybe should have felt dangerous - they'd just gotten back together after years apart and she wasn't naive enough to think that one night fixed everything. But it didn't feel dangerous at all.
"Oh my god," an amused voice cut through the warm haze in Shepard's brain. They pulled apart, and over Ash's shoulder, she saw Sarah Williams standing in Ash's kitchen, a smirk on her face.
"Uh, sorry," she managed.
"No need to apologise for my sister attacking you-"
"Sarah," Ash rolled her eyes, and then she'd caught Shepard's hand and she was pulling her into the apartment.
Sarah went serious suddenly, "Captain, I'm sorry about the last time we met."
"It's alright," she replied. "And Captain isn't necessary - just call me Shepard." Ash let out a soft puff of laughter. "What?"
"Nothing." she pressed a kiss to her cheek, "How long are you free?"
"I’ve got tonight.” If nothing went terribly wrong or caught on fire. Wulandri had all but chased her off the ship and told her not to come back before their morning meeting. “We could get dinner?"
Ash smiled, slow and warm, "Let's order in."
"Okaaay," Sarah drew out, "I think that's my cue to leave."
“You don’t need to leave,” Shepard said, frowning slightly. Time alone with Ashley sounded wonderful, especially given how heartsore Tuchanka and Mordin had left her, but she didn’t want to chase Sarah out of the apartment.
The younger Williams smiled, “Don’t worry about it. I’m going to go meet some friends anyway.” As she was walking out the door, she called, loudly, over her shoulder, “Have fun, use protection!”
“Little shit,” Ash said fondly.
Shepard stepped into her space, resting her hands on her waist. “I missed you.”
Ash’s hands went to the collar of her uniform jacket, a wicked little quirk to her mouth. “Yeah? Show me.”
Dinner was going to wait then. She pulled Ash close and leant in to kiss her again.
Shepard was half asleep, stretched out in Ash’s bed and her arm loosely wrapped around Ash’s waist, her fingers drawing lazy patterns over her lower back. Ash ran her fingers through her curls, and Shepard’s eyes fluttered closed, her breathing even.
“Love you,” Shepard murmured into the still bedroom.
“I love you too.”
The violent images from the video suddenly popped into Ash’s head. The red-streaked forearm lashing out, fist embedding itself in an armoured chest.
She shook herself. It hadn’t been Shepard. Videos could be altered and the Normandy had been nowhere near that part of the Terminus. It hadn’t been Shepard. Shepard was done with Cerberus.
“Okay?” Shepard had opened her eyes and those brown, almost black eyes were studying her face.
“I’m fine.” Ash traced along the line of her jaw with her fingertips. “Get some sleep.” In the morning, Shepard would be back to work and Ash would be worrying about the remnants of their government again, but for now, they could rest.
The Normandy bustled as the crew loaded supplies in preparation for her next cruise, overseen by the orchestrator of the chaos, XO Wulandri. Considering the intensity of the ground combat on Tuchanka and running into a Cerberus warship, the ship had come through with barely a scratch.
The Marines liked to say that was because of their quick work on the AA tower and the sailors claimed it was the ship’s efficiency.
Wulandri rather thought it was thanks to EDI, and that things were going to get worse.
Now she was doing paperwork while waiting for the ship’s newest arrival. Shepard was in her cabin with T’Soni doing…something. Wulandri would happily leave the strategising and politics to her.
A Marine approached her. He was wearing his utilities, with a camo patrol cap pulled over his high and tight. He had blue eyes and his hair- the little that was visible anyway - was the colour of a wheat field. He wasn't old, but he had clearly been around the block a few times.
His stitched nameplate read "JAKSCH", almost obscured by the seabag he held in both arms. As he got closer, he had to raise his voice to be heard above the hubbub. "XO Wulandri?"
She looked up. Noting the First Lieutenant bars on his shoulders and his name. Right on time. “That’s me. Lieutenant Jaksch?”
"Aye ma'am," he responded. "I'm the new MARDET Commander. I'm very keen to get to work with my Marines. I was told you would sort my credentials out."
“Nice to meet you,” she held out a hand to shake. “EDI, can you add him to the crew manifest and add his permissions to his ID?”
“Of course, Commander,” the AI said calmly, “Completed.”
“There we go. You’ll be bunking with Lieutenant Adams, the ship’s chief engineer.”
"Thanks for that," Jaskch said coolly. "What's Lieutenant Adams like? No complaints about his bedroom etiquette?'
His lack of surprise made her blink but then she brushed it off. Shepard had decided against keeping EDI a secret - it’d be too difficult to keep secret on such a small ship, and sailors and Marines gossiped.
“Adams is one of the good ones. You’ll have no problems with him. Do you have any other questions I can answer for you?”
"I'm sure I'll learn, but how have the deployments gone so far? How's morale?" He was the straight to business type, then.
“The captain can probably give you her opinion, but it seems fair considering the recent casualties. Losing Lieutenant Beaumont was hard on them,” Wulandri said. “Last mission we took a fair few wounded, but only one had to be evaced to the Citadel. Considering how things are going across the Alliance theatre at the moment, we’ve been lucky.”
Jaskch cocked a brow. "With any luck, there's not going to be any issues with me taking command. Who's been in charge since Beaumont's death?"
“Staff Sergeant James Vega, with help from the platoon guide, Sergeant Hohepa. He’s a N5.” Wulandri thought Vega played up the dumb grunt image. No one who was stupid made it at N School.
"Made of strong stuff. I look forward to working with him. Last question before I get settled in - how's the Normandy faring? Much damage?"
She shook her head. “We got out with barely a scratch from Tuchanka.”
Not from a lack of effort from the Reaper, who’d fired up at them a couple of times. Thankfully between the myriad of distractions and Joker’s flying, they hadn’t taken more than shield hit.
“Go get settled in - but the captain wants to see you at your earliest convenience.”
"Aye aye," Jaksch touched his forehead as a sign of respect, "Thank you ma'am. I'll contact the captain as soon as I put my seabag down." He patted it, for emphasis.
“She’s working from her cabin, up on Deck One, when you’re ready. Dismissed,” Wulandri said and turned back to her work.
For once, Shepard wished that she could just say ‘let’s work together’ and have people get on board. She’d been looking at the proposal from Bekenstein’s colonial government for several hours with Liara and it still left a bad taste in her mouth.
A little frustrated, she’d asked Udina that morning why they couldn’t just make Bekenstein help the war effort - after all, they were at least nominally an Alliance colony. He’d looked at her like she was stupid and told her she could try browbeating them if she wanted, but it’d just end up with them making his and her lives difficult.
So she was dealing with the bastards.
Shepard rubbed her face, “Thanks, Liara. I think we’ve got a plan now.”
Maybe blackmailing people was something she would’ve looked at askance a few years ago, but the administration was notoriously corrupt and she’d use what she had to to get them in line.
“Remember to take a break, Shepard,” her friend said, standing and stretching.
Shepard scoffed. “Like you’re one to talk.”
“I’m a terrible hypocrite, I know, but regardless…”
There was a loud knock against the steel door. "Captain Shepard?" It was a man's voice, not one that Emilia recognised.
“Come in!” Shepard called, putting the secure datapad with the Bekenstein negotiations away in a drawer.
The door slid open and in strode Jaksch, passing Liara on her way out. He came to attention not too far from where Shepard stood. "Ma'am, First Lieutenant Jaksch, reporting for duty."
“At ease, Lieutenant. Take a seat.” Shepard took a moment to study him as she gestured at the seat by her desk. He carried himself with the air of experience. She hoped that would prove true.
Jaksch did as she asked, relaxing somewhat. He folded his hands neatly on the table in front of him. He had that strict military bearing, everything precise and measured. "I just want to say first, ma'am, thank you for selecting me for this posting. I know that everyone's doing their bit for the Alliance, but I feel like, on board the Normandy, I'll have the opportunity to really fight for humanity. It's… It's an honour to be working with you. I look forward to learning how you run things."
He seemed eager and earnest, not a hint of irony in his tone. His expression was somewhat guarded, but there wasn't a flicker of dishonesty across it.
“Thanks, I look forward to working with you. Colonel Yang spoke very highly of you,” Shepard replied. She’d worked with Yang a few times in the Traverse. He’d been somewhat guarded when they’d spoken but he’d given his honest opinion on Jaksch. “Our operations will require flexibility and initiative from you - we will often be operating either on our own or alongside allied forces, including those the Alliance hasn’t trained with.”
"I did good work under the Colonel. I'm proud of it." Jaksch rubbed his chin, though there was no hesitation in his voice. "Aye ma'am. I've spent some time studying the allies and potential threats of the Alliance - I hope that experience is put to use."
“Good to hear. Have you been sent the TO&E for the Marine Detachment yet?” She hadn’t gotten a read on him yet, but so long as he was competent she could deal with the rest.
"Not yet, unfortunately. XO Wulandri gave me a very brief rundown. I understand my platoon sergeant is an N5 and it sounds as though he's capable." There was a brief flicker of unease across his face. "If I may, how did my predecessor - Lieutenant Beaumont - die?"
“Here.” She passed over a datapad loaded with the table of organisation and equipment for the Marine Detachment. “Lieutenant Beaumont was killed by a Reaper rocket unit - I believe they’re being called Ravagers. Unfortunately he was killed instantly.”
Poor kid.
"Ah." Jaksch took the datapad, absentmindedly saying, "I've not yet encountered Ravagers."
The First Lieutenant studied the TO&E. "I'll want to meet all the squad leaders and SNCOs. Get a bead on them. I don't intend to disrupt things if they're working. My preference is to observe things first, and correct the mistakes I see. Does that sound appropriate, ma'am?”
“Sounds good to me. Vega and Hohepa are solid.” Shepard paused. “Get your read on them and the other NCOs. I’d also like you to assist Lieutenant Cortez and Sergeant Vega with logistics for your detachment. We’re still not at full strength, so I need everyone pitching in.”
"Aye ma'am. I'll liaise with Cortez. Consider it done. I wanted to ask as well, I'm sure Staff Sergeant Vega will know better, but is there anyone I should watch out for? Troublemakers or fuck ups?"
She tapped her fingers against the table, considering the question. “PFC Dressler got into a fight with one of our turian guests, but he was provoked and I haven’t had any other issues with him. He’s a bit of a smart ass, but he’s a good Marine. Lance Corporal Adamsen may be worth keeping an eye on for combat stress. PFC Spiegelman…he’s a good machine gunner but I’m not certain he has more than two brain cells to rub together.”
Jaksch chuckled. "I've seen a few Spiegelmans in my time. I'll get it squared away. I have no further questions at this time ma'am. Do you need anything else from me?"
“Nothing further, Lieutenant. There’s a briefing in four hours, I’ll see you there.”
"Aye aye." Jaksch stood, and began to head for the door. He stopped a pace away, before turning back. "Again, ma'am, I have to thank you for the privilege. I never dreamed I'd see the inside of the Normandy."
Codex Entry
Limitations of the Citadel Defence Force:
Proposal for the establishment of a Unified Allied Command Headquarters (excerpt regarding deficiencies of the Citadel Defence Force)
Commander Emilia Shepard, Threat Assessment Office, Systems Alliance Navy
One common proposal for galactic war planning has been to utilise the Citadel Defence Force as it was in the Krogan Rebellions. During the Rebellions, the CDF was a large organisation, led by the turians but incorporating asari and salarian assets to combat the Krogan Empire and protect Citadel Space. However, the CDF of the Krogan Rebellions and the CDF of today are vastly different organisations, due to the gradual downsizing and, arguably, neglect of the organisation over the past centuries.
The Citadel Defence Force of today has been designed for limited utility: to protect the Citadel and its immediate surroundings, and supply peacekeeping assets for use by the Council. These forces are supplied by all Citadel Treaty Organisation members, but predominantly by full members of the Council. In practice, the CDF has not been a priority for the majority of member militaries.
The exception to this has been the Asari Republics, which have often contributed some of their best ships and commando units to the CDF, including the allocation of the Destiny Ascension, and tours by the Serrice and Armali Guards under the CDF Peacekeeper umbrella. This may be due to the relative peace in the Republics and lack of conflicted borders - the CDF provides an opportunity for Republican military units to garner combat experience. The Salarian Union has largely restricted itself to providing reconnaissance intelligence assets rather than regular units.
However, both the Hierarchy and the Systems Alliance have tended towards meeting minimum requirements, with older vessel classes and limited funding compared to domestic fleets. Increased funding to the CDF has been politically problematic for the Alliance, with domestic debate over allocating vessels to a posting to ‘protect galactic elites’ over increasing ship and troop numbers in areas such as the Traverse with ongoing low intensity conflict. The increased burden of CDF requirements has additionally impacted the SAN’s readiness across the Alliance’s own borders.
The CDF has been sufficient for its current purposes, but it is no longer fit for purpose as a force to combat a galactic threat. The officer cadre and planning required for a rapid expansion of the CDF into a warfighting force is simply absent, as is the required equipment such as artillery and armoured vehicles for ground forces and heavier ship classes. While deficiencies were identified after the Battle of the Citadel, the political will to create expanded capabilities has been lacking; rather both the Alliance and Hierarchy have moved to reform and reinforce their own militaries. Little military reform or recruitment has taken place in the Union or the Republics.
Additionally, it is unclear that placing additional large formations under the command of the Citadel Defence Force, and therefore the Council’s political control, will be acceptable to member governments.
Chapter 24: Knife's Edge
Chapter Text
Shepard woke to an empty bed and the smell of fresh coffee. The window was dark with the ward's eternal evening. She took a moment to stretch and check her omnitool. It was early in the morning local time and she had two hundred emails. She winced.
At least Traynor had set her up so that the most important ones would alert her. She closed it reluctantly - almost guiltily - and got out of bed. This time she'd brought over an overnight bag with a fresh uniform, but she didn't bother changing out of her sweats and tshirt just yet.
Instead she went looking for her girlfriend.
Ash was buttering some bread, two cups of steaming coffee on the kitchen counter.
"Hey," she said.
"Hey," Ash echoed. "I made you some coffee. Sarah's still asleep."
"I love you," Shepard reached for the furthest cup.
Ash rolled her eyes playfully. "I know."
But there was something strained to her smile, a tension to the set of her shoulders. Shepard leant her hip against the counter and took a long sip. Ash had remembered how she liked her coffee.
"Is everything okay?"
Ash looked away, setting down her butter knife. "I'm fine, Emilia."
She regarded her for a moment before she put her cup down and stepped up behind Ash, arms coming around her waist - loose enough Ash could shrug her off if she wanted. But she didn't.
She pressed a kiss to a spot behind her ear, and after a moment Ash relaxed and leant back into her arms.
"I'm here if you need to talk about anything. You know that, right?"
Ash was silent a moment. "I know."
Ashley had usually been the one of them quicker to talk about things, but she was just as stubborn as Shepard herself was. There was no point to pushing her before she was ready to talk about what was upsetting her.
"I'm glad," she murmured and squeezed for a second before letting her go and returning to her coffee.
"Can you come to my office with me this morning after we eat?" Ash asked abruptly.
Shepard blinked over the rim of her mug. "Yes?"
"It's important." There was a tone of insistence to Ash’s tone, but she didn’t look over at Shepard.
"Okay," Shepard said, bemused.
Ashley did look up then, and her expression softened. She stepped across the kitchen to kiss her on the cheek. “Thanks, Skipper.”
“Of course.”
“There’s some fruit and yoghurt in the fridge for you. You need to eat.” Ash said briskly, turning back to her own breakfast.
“Aye aye,” Shepard said with a hint of amusement.
Ash rolled her eyes. “Don’t make me break out the glucometer or something.”
“Leave my poor fingertips alone,” Shepard smiled. “I get poked enough by Chakwas as it is.”
“She’s the one who said your blood sugar needs monitoring.”
“Don’t tell me you two are ganging up on me,” Shepard grumbled, opening the fridge.
“She even gave me a pamphlet.”
She turned and narrowed her eyes at Ash, who gave her an innocent look. “You’re fucking with me.”
“Would I do that?”
Ash was trying to brush off whatever was bothering her, but Shepard could only hope that she’d want to talk about it later. Being with her felt like coming home - familiar and exciting in equal measure - but it also felt new and fragile right now.
She loves me, she reminded herself, she wants this. Ashley Williams never did anything she didn’t want, and she’d wanted to get back together.
“Cariño, you love to mess with me.”
“Okay, okay,” Ash laughed, “guilty as charged-”
The door to the spare bedroom opened and Sarah half-stumbled out, a scowl fixed firmly on her face, and a bad case of bed hair. The look she gave them was one of disgust. “You two are far too awake for seven am.”
Ash smirked. “Coffee?”
Sarah mumbled something that might have been a yes before half collapsing on the couch.
“Not a morning person?” Shepard murmured, getting her breakfast out of the fridge.
“Nah,” Ash said, getting another mug out of the cupboard. “Our dad used to try to get us all out of bed at 7:30 and she’d throw a fit.”
“I can hear you,” Sarah mumbled.
Half an hour later they’d eaten, dressed and ensured Sarah had coffee enough to survive the morning, before taking a rapid transport cab to Ash’s office on the Presidium.
It wasn’t close to as fancy as Udina’s office, being a small nook of a room hidden away near the main Spectre office, but security was tight. It took a verification of both their Spectre IDs and Ash’s handprint to get inside.
Ash logged into her computer before taking a deep breath. “Shepard, this…what I’m about to show you? It doesn’t look good for you, but I’m taking you at your word that you’re done with Cerberus.”
Shepard took a slight step back. Not this again. She’d thought they’d - come to an understanding. “Ash, I am.”
Ash held up a hand, an uncertain expression flashing across her face. “I know. That’s why - look, just watch it for me.”
She played the video.
Shepard swallowed as it finished, the camera fixed on the figure wearing her face. “It wasn’t me, Ash. I wouldn’t - I’ve never even been to Sanctum-”
“Shepard,” Ash’s hand dropped to her shoulder, squeezed, “I trust you. That’s why I’m showing it to you.”
Her chest squeezed.
“Cerberus might be trying to discredit me or something,” Shepard said, staring hard at the monitor screen. They’d managed to spread rumours about her even before she’d woken up last year.
“You’re the face of the Alliance’s war effort,” Ash agreed, “if they can sow doubt about you amongst the nations we’re trying to get onside…”
“Bastards,” Shepard muttered.
Ash smiled wanly. “Yeah. That they are.”
“And besides, you know I’d never take my helmet off in a combat scenario,” she said, frowning at the video again. Seriously,
Ash made a choked noise that was close to a laugh. “Of course.”
Shepard looked over at her, at the mix of emotions playing over Ashley’s face. Her hand was still on Shepard’s shoulder, holding on.
"Thank you. For trusting me." She folded her hand over Ash’s.
"This," Ash gestured between them, "doesn't work if we both don't...try, right?"
Shepard's expression softened, "Yeah."
“Just…don’t make me regret this.” Ash looked down.
“You won’t,” Shepard squeezed her hand, “you won’t.”
Miranda Lawson, though she hadn’t gone by the name in months, paced the small apartment slowly. The fake Presidium sunlight streamed in the window. Here, on the Citadel, it was too easy to feel the noose tightening around her neck. She’d been on the Alliance’s wanted list for years - but now she had preciously few allies left and too many enemies on her tail.
But there were things that could only be done on the Citadel, especially with how difficult travel was becoming due to the war. And she wasn’t entirely out of allies yet.
The front door slid open and she slid a hand to the pistol holstered under her jacket, but there was only one person with the entry code, and at the sight of Captain Emilia Shepard stepping through, she lowered her hand again.
“Shepard,” she said, “it’s good to see you. We live in uncertain times.”
“That’s for bloody sure,” Shepard said with a humourless smile but then her gaze softened. “It’s good to see you too. I’ve been worried.”
“I couldn’t get near you while the Alliance had you locked up,” she frowned slightly, “I can’t believe they court martialled you.”
Shepard arced a dark eyebrow. “I blew up a planet.” When Miranda opened her mouth to respond, the other woman shook her head. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”
She would say that. “I hope the Alliance has a plan.”
“We do,” Shepard rubbed at her shoulder. Miranda considered offering to adjust the settings for her - but given what she needed to talk to her about, she decided against it. Shepard had always been reluctant to have her cybernetics adjusted, even as she let Chakwas poke and prod at her regularly. “It’s a longshot. A hail mary, even. It’s…” Shepard sighed, her expression darkening. “Everyone needs to believe I believe, Miranda, but I really don’t know.”
“Shepard…”
Shepard’s forced smile was barely there. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to give up.”
“You are the most stubborn person I’ve met,” Miranda said with a ghost of her own smile. “About Earth…”
“It was bad,” Shepard said flatly.
“When I left Melbourne, I told myself I’d never look back, but…”
“Yeah. Part of me feels like I should never have gotten on the Normandy.”
“We need you here.”
“I know,” Shepard sighed.
“Is your family alright?” she asked, a little awkwardly. She’d never been one for much small talk, but Shepard would appreciate the question. Miranda suspected that one of the Illusive Man - and her own - blunders with Shepard had been isolating her from her family and other supports. From the reminder of what she was fighting for.
“My mum and brother are safe on the Orizaba - or as safe as anyone is on a warship these days. I don’t know about my abuelos - either set. Ash got wounded in Sol, but she’s okay now.”
“You two have reconciled.” Shepard had mentioned Williams very rarely to Miranda outside of once I’m not over her, I don’t know how to be over her, but when she had there’d always been a tense pain to it. That was gone.
Shepard’s lips curved into a smile. “Yeah. It’s - not the same as it was before, but I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing. We’re both trying.”
“Good. You deserve some happiness, Shepard.” Miranda had been content with a strong friendship, trust and occasional sex, but Shepard was, under all her stony composure and hard edges, a romantic.
“Thanks,” Shepard said, and then, both of their tolerance for the personal conversation expended, asked, “What are you doing here on the Citadel? Isn’t it dangerous for you?”
Everywhere was dangerous for her these days. “Yes, but I have a few people to meet here, including you. It’s about my sister.”
“Oriana?” Shepard straightened, suddenly alert. She looked like she was ready to grab a shotgun and start kicking some doors down.
“Everything I set up to keep her safe went dark - and I just know my father is involved somehow.”
“Can I help?” Shepard asked immediately, because of course she did. Part of Miranda hated that she did have something Shepard could help her with.
“I need access to Alliance intelligence databases.”
Shepard’s eyebrows shot up. “What’s this about, Miranda?”
If Shepard knew the full extent of the danger Miranda was in, she’d want to help personally, and there was too much in the air, too much set up so delicately, for that - or for the Alliance’s interference.
“I can’t say, not yet.”
Shepard let out a long breath. “You’re asking a lot.”
She was. A normal Alliance operative could lose their security clearance if something like this was discovered.
“I know.”
“I trust you, Miranda. I’ll find a way - but I don’t like the sound of this. Promise me you’ll tell me if you need back-up.”
“I will,” she lied, “and Shepard?”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful. The Illusive Man put a great deal of time and money into infiltrating the Alliance. Who knows what Cerberus will do now he’s attacking the Alliance directly.”
“So, don’t trust anyone?” Shepard asked with a wry smile.
“Don’t trust anyone,” Miranda replied, but she was deadly serious.
The air of Eden Prime stank with ash and the metal of blood.
Staff Lieutenant Maya Brooks stepped over the corpse of a resistance fighter and hurried towards one of the cluster of prefabs surrounding the pit that had been dug into the clay. The identity was still new, but she wore it with ease. Switching names was like switching clothes for her.
A knot of blue-armoured figures faced a far more ragged group, most in civilian clothes with a mix of old rifles and a few vests. Only a couple had helmets.
“-we lost three guys for a fuckin’ relic, are you kidding me?” Wu was what these resistance fighters called their leader, dressed like a colonial hick and had the brains to match, by the way he was stepping into the space of someone wearing the black and red of a N7.
“Get the fuck out of my face,” Project Capgras growled and shoved Wu away from her. The resistance fighters shifted, anger flashing across several faces.
It turned out that charisma wasn’t genetic. Brooks bit back a sigh.
“This is vital to the war effort,” Brooks said, voice practically dripping with earnestness, “your people died for our future. Please, help us make it mean something.”
Wu wavered, glancing between Brooks and the black-armoured figure in front of him, and then he nodded reluctantly. “We’ll hold the perimeter with the rest of your guys.”
“Thank you.” Brooks turned to the Replacement.
It was a nickname she kept to herself, but one that had stuck. The dark eyes that glared at her from under the visor were the right shade of brown-black, the curls were right, the height was right. When she’d come flopping out of the tube, she’d been soft-bellied and weak, but a few months had changed that.
The woman in front of her wasn’t what the Illusive Man had wanted, but she was what Brooks needed.
There were issues to iron out, but even with the Illusive Man’s limited vision for the Replacement, signs were promising. He saw the…limited success of the memory imprinting as a failure. The imprinting had always been a risk, given that the memories had already been damaged when they'd been recorded, but Project Capgras had gotten what was most important.
The skills, the Prothean memories, and little of the sentimentality to hold her back. The last thing humanity needed was another girl scout running around waving an Alliance flag and hugging turians.
“You said that I’m in charge,” the Replacement said, frowning at her.
“You are,” Maya said soothingly.
She got a suspicious glare in response and then the woman turned away. “I’ve got the code to open it up.”
“After you…Captain.”
The life support pod was a flattened cylinder of dark metal of a similar construction to the spires that the excavation had uncovered. The Protheans had had a colour theme they stuck to, it seemed.
“Transmitting,” the Replacement said, standing over the pod. Maya fiddled with her rifle, staring down at it. Again, the Illusive Man was looking to aliens to solve their problems.
At least one man wouldn’t be too much of an issue if it came down to it.
The pod cracking open was oddly anti-climatic, considering it’d been fifty thousand years since it’d been sealed. The prothean inside was encased in armour except for his triangular face and far too many eyes.
Four yellow burning eyes snapped open. The prothean fell out of his cryo pod, his legs not quite working as he scrambled away from them, biotic energy humming around him.
That was interesting.
“Hey-” The Replacement stepped in front of him and he grabbed her. They both froze for several long seconds and then the Replacement was swearing, shoving the prothean away from her. “Get out of my head-”
“Ward,” she called.
Ward was olive-skinned under his helmet visor, hawkish and predatory even when he smiled, a well kept but still stupid moustache clinging to his upper lip. He was overly fond of leather jackets and cigars, but he was competent enough.
He stepped forward, an auto injector in hand, seizing the still-weak prothean with one hand and jamming the needle in with the other. After a moment, the alien slumped back into Ward’s grasp.
“Is that a real-?” Wu was open-mouthed as he came up behind them, his surviving resistance fighters behind him, equally awestruck.
“A real fucking prothean, yep.” Project Capgras said and in the next moment Wu was choking as she slammed into him in a burst of biotic energy, her biotic-wreathed fist punching into his chest.
Ward sighed heavily and then raised his gun, putting two bursts into the nearest resistance fighter.
The ‘captain’ shoved Wu’s body back and into one of the other fighters. The woman stumbled back under the weight of the corpse with a shriek that was cut off by the boom of a shotgun. A wave of biotic energy slammed another fighter - barely eighteen, his Mattock going flying - into the wall of a nearby prefab, caving his head in. The last survivor ran for it.
Maya Brooks aimed and fired. He tumbled down into a groaning pile until she took a few lazy steps forward and put a bullet in his head.
“Throw the bodies over the cliff, Ward. I’ll get the prothean.”
“Aye,” he said, a touch sardonically, and grabbed the nearest body under the armpits.
The Replacement walked over to the unconscious prothean and heaved him up. “Brooks, call the shuttle. Let’s get out of here.”
Codex Entry
Correspondence - Staff Lieutenant Ashley Williams:
From: [email protected]
Subj: Hey Mom
Mamãe,
It’s driving me a bit crazy, being here on the Citadel with busy work as the only thing to distract me from the war and you guys being out of contact. I think about you and Lynn and Abby every day. I check the refugee lists every day, hell. You guys haven’t been on it yet, but I keep hoping.
Part of me wishes I could just Spectre authority my way onto a ship and come get you guys.
Sarah and I are doing okay. We still can’t find out anything about Thomas. Just have to keep hoping, I guess. I hate that.
I wish you were here. You and Abby knew what to say to me after Alchera, it feels like you’d know what to say to Sarah now. Sometimes I think I’m just making things worse for her, because she’s worrying about me getting clearance.
In your last email you asked me how things were, with being around Shepard again. We were still barely speaking back then but now? Now, we’re back together. It’s weird to feel happy about something in the middle of a galactic war.
It’s weird too, because I keep feeling like I can’t keep this, can’t keep her. Like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Maybe it’s the war, making everything feel really fragile. I don’t know. I miss being able to call you and hear your voice and your advice.
Please be okay.
I love you,
Ashley
Chapter 25: Space Cadet
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Traynor shifted from foot to foot, regarding the red circle glowing in the middle of Shepard’s doors. Keep it together, she told herself, EDI agrees with you.
It was still terribly intimidating to, as a lab rat, go to a special operations officer and try to convince her to divert from a mission to a system several jumps away, on a hunch.
The door blinked green. “Come in.”
Shepard was sitting at her desk, a pile of datapads in front of her, and Doctor T’soni leaned against the bulkhead.
“Ma’am,” she said, “Doctor.”
“How can I help you, Lieutenant?”
“I was monitoring Alliance channels, and there was a distress signal sent from Grissom Academy. The front is getting closer and the Alliance units there are either stuck in combat or about to be, so they’re requesting assistance to evacuate the remaining students and staff.”
Shepard blinked. “They’re still open?”
“It seems they sent most of the younger students home, but some of the older classes are still there, ma’am. It’s possible they’re still training biotics for the Alliance as well.”
“Has anyone responded to them?” Shepard glanced at a datapad on her desk, a slight furrow between her dark eyebrows. “ We’re a long way out.”
“A turian troop ship running evacuations responded, so normally I’d say we don’t need to do anything, Captain, but…something seemed off about the transmission. So…on a hunch I asked EDI to do an analysis. She thinks it’s fake and likely Cerberus. She said it’s similar to a signal that lured you to a Collector ship…?” She couldn’t help but trail off questioningly, fidgeting with her hands. Hadn’t Shepard been working with Cerberus against the Collectors?
Shepard grimaced. “It’s a long story.”
“Good instincts,” T’Soni said.
“Uh - thank you,” she wasn’t sure whether to call the asari ma’am or not - she was working for the Alliance but wasn’t military, so she settled on, “Doctor. In any case, whoever faked this signal wants the Alliance to believe that the Academy is being evacuated, but I believe they’re still in danger.”
Shepard tapped her fingers against the desk. “Good catch.”
“Hopefully it’s worth investigating. It could just be misinformation or-”
“Traynor,” Shepard cut her off and then smiled, “good catch.”
She ducked her head. “Thank you, Captain.”
“EDI, let Joker know the course change. I’ll let the admiral know we’ll be unavailable for tasking for the next couple of days.”
“Yes, Captain,” the AI replied.
“Lieutenant Traynor may be able to assist with the problem we discussed earlier,” T’Soni said.
“Hmm,” Shepard hummed thoughtfully and Sam found herself being studied intently by them both. She barely managed to stop herself from shifting nervously.
“I - uh, whatever I can do to help the war effort, ma’am.”
T’Soni and Shepard exchanged a glance and then Shepard leant back in her chair. “We’ve received some intelligence that…has made me concerned about the possibility of infiltration.”
“Infiltration, ma’am?”
Shepard’s expression was grim, “You’ve been briefed about indoctrination, Traynor, and we know Cerberus has gotten double agents into the Alliance before. The Normandy is an important asset for the war effort - we have to assume that our enemies will try to do the same to us.”
“Crap.” She’d never had to think about that sort of thing in the lab.
Shepard smiled grimly. “Exactly. That’s why I need you to monitor shipboard communications for anything outgoing that’s suspicious.”
Her stomach dropped. “You want me to spy on my shipmates.”
Shepard’s forehead crinkled in a small, regretful frown. “I’m not asking you to read every email, just keep an eye out for anything that’s unusual.”
“Ma’am, that feels like spying.”
“I know I’m asking a lot, Traynor,” Shepard said, voice softening, “but we’re at war, with enemies that can subvert those that should be our comrades.”
That…made sense, but it still made her stomach squirm. She’d been a scientist her entire life - this felt different.
“Just let me know of any suspicious transmissions, okay? Nothing more.”
“Aye ma’am,” Sam said.
“I may ask you to have a look at further signals intelligence, if you’re willing. Seems like you’ve got a knack for it.”
She brightened, “Thank you, ma’am.”
“That will be all, Lieutenant Traynor. Dismissed.”
The cold steel of the Normandy’s cargo bay was feeling more and more like home to the Marine detachment, their cots and sleeping bags packed tightly into the rear bay, safe from the flight deck. They were the sardines, and the ship was their can.
Unfortunately, there were some familiar faces absent that made the atmosphere a little less comfy. Beaumont, lost to the goddamned rachni, was no longer checking on the Marines. Several Marines were still in the infirmary, recovering from wounds received in the past few missions, including Klein.
Hohepa quietly thought that they’d been lucky. She had some friends emailing her horror stories. Entire battalions destroyed or attrited to the point of uselessness.
“We’re hitting Grissom Academy,” she announced, stopping in front of the corner her squad had chosen as their own, hooking her thumbs in her belt and looking down at PFC Dressler, sprawled on his cot. “We’re suspecting Cerberus activity at the school, so we’re going in to rescue the students. Expect CQB.”
Close quarters battle, the worst type of battle, full of blind corners and fatal funnels. And they were adding teenagers to the mix.
Dressler stuck his hand in the air. "When you say CQB, Sarge," he said, practically salivating, "does that mean I can bring the breaching shotgun?"
Hohepa gave a long suffering sigh. “Fine. Bring plenty of flashbangs and grenades too.”
"Fuck yeah!" Dressler offered a fist to Watts, who obliged with a bump. "Fix bayonets too, Sarge?"
“You’re more likely to stab Watts than a Cerberus trooper,” the sergeant grumbled, “No.”
"Aww…"
"Well, I certainly don't want to get stabbed."
“How many kids are we talking about?” Lance Corporal Liao asked, dark eyebrows furrowing. She was sitting on Li’s sleeping bag, the two of them with far grimmer expressions than their fellow Marines.
“Most were evacuated, but at least twenty.”
“The fuck were they thinking, staying on a space station?” Li muttered. Concern flashed across Liao’s face and she pressed her shoulder into the corporal’s.
Hohepa shrugged. “No clue, Corporal. You good?”
“Yes, Sergeant.”
Hohepa examined her expression for a moment and then nodded, satisfied. Li was one tough young woman. Maybe too tough sometimes, but if she said she was good to go, Hohepa would believe her, at least for now.
The elevator door slid open. Vega entered first, followed by the new MARDET commander, Lieutenant Jaksch.
“Attention on deck,” the burly N5 called.
Everyone stopped moving at once, legs together and arms by their side, backs straight.
"As you were, Platoon," Jaksch said. "No doubt Sergeant Hohepa has filled you in that we have a mission. We're doing a kit inspection before we dust off. Everybody get your gear in front of you, on the double. Please sort them out, Staff Sergeant."
Corporal Li bit down a sigh. She’d gotten used to not having to deal with this sort of thing. But in short order she had her kit out and neatly arranged. She glanced over at Dressler to see how he was doing.
He was mostly done, like her, and his own equipment neatly arranged. Currently, however, he was holding his stolen Cerberus sword, clearly struggling with whether he should try to hide it somewhere in the sparse cargo bay, or lay it with his equipment and make no big deal of it.
“Just make your mind up,” Li hissed at him as the platoon leader and sergeant got closer.
"I can't lose it," Dressler shot back. "I have to get a confirmed kill with it!" He decided he would lay it neatly amongst his equipment and instead hid his bayonet under a spare uniform shirt.
“Oh my god,” Li muttered and then straightened as the two men approached. “Sir.”
Jaksch read her nametape. "Li." he looked down at the ordered rows of her gear. "Looks good, Corporal." He retrieved her rifle and had a quick look before handing it to Vega. "Any complaints, Staff Sergeant?"
Vega shook his head. “Li here knows her shit.”
Li straightened even further if that was possible. “Thank you, Staff Sergeant.”
"Keep it up and you'll go far." Jaksch then passed the rifle back to the Corporal and went to the next Marine.
"PFC Dressler," he said, casting an eye over the items in front of him. His hand reached for the machinegun, but he paused, noticing the sword.
"Well, well," he said, retrieving that instead. "This isn't exactly standard issue." Dressler's eyes widened as the Lieutenant twirled the sword in his hand. The colouring instantly gave it away, but there was a logo etched into the blade too, just above the hilt.
"This looks far more like a hand-stamped palladium-tungsten-carbonsteel blend than the factory made bayonets the Marine Corps issues."
Li’s lips twitched and she shot a look at Dressler.
“We ran into some kind of Cerberus biotic last mission,” Vega said. “She tried to stab me with that. Not sure what the fuck they think they’re doing with swords.”
"Well there's no more pure a weapon. A sword? It has one design and one purpose." He looked down the length of the blade. "Fits their ideology, no?"
Dressler looked a bit confused. "Are you going to confiscate it, Sir?"
"Well… I probably should. But I think we have bigger fish to fry. If your Platoon Sergeant lets you keep it, I will too. Vega?"
Vega shrugged. “Just don’t try to stab someone with it. Shoot them instead.”
Jaksch handed the sword back to Dressler. "Well, you heard him. Make sure your rifle is properly maintained."
Dressler beamed. "Aye aye! Thank you, sir!"
As Jaksch moved along, he grinned at Li. "This sword is mine forever!"
“Wonderful,” she said sarcastically, “If you stab yourself with it I’ll leave you alone to Kovalenko’s tender mercies.”
The corpsman could be scary.
"Nah, doc loves me." Dressler rolled the sword between his hands. "I can't wait to stick this in a Cerbie!"
Ashley rubbed her face, eyes fatigued from staring at the blue light of her terminal. Lists of names, all of them human refugees, all of them allowed onto the Citadel by the human councillor’s office. Many of them had policing or military experience, but not all. There were families too.
Yeah, don’t think the thirteen year old girl is part of Cerberus.
Maybe Ash was looking for something that wasn’t there. But something was bugging her. She looked at the list again. A bunch of the refugees had been recruited into C-Sec, others into the Alliance - but disproportionately into CSec.
She felt like she was banging her head against a brick wall. She couldn’t exactly show up to Udina’s office and burst out with, hi, acting President of the Systems Alliance, are you working with Cerberus and also trying to have me killed?
Her omnitool pinged, pulling her out of her head, and Sarah’s name flashed up.
"Hey," she answered the call with a push of her thumb, "I'm still working-"
"Ash," Sarah's voice cracked. She'd been crying, Ash could tell.
"What's wrong?" she asked immediately, getting to her feet.
"T-thomas," Sarah choked out.
Her husband. Her MIA husband. "Sarah-"
"Please come home." It came out a harsh sob.
"Yeah - yeah, I'm on my way. I'll be ten minutes, okay?"
"Okay," Sarah sobbed and then the call went dead.
Damn it. Fuck! Ash turned and sprinted for the nearest rapid transport cab, barely remembering to close and lock her office door behind her.
She spent the drive back with her gut twisting uncomfortably, fingers drumming against her thigh. Please let him be alive. Please let him be injured or something, just so long as he’s alive.
But, when Ash came out of the elevator and saw the open door, her sister half-collapsed against the frame, and two men in white uniforms standing in the corridor, she felt that last flicker of hope die.
“You can’t come in,” Sarah said, shaking her head, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Ma’am,” the taller man said, a lieutenant’s bars on his shoulders, and his voice was painfully kind.
“No,” Sarah demanded.
For a moment, Ashley was painfully reminded of a different, awful morning. It’d been nine am, she’d been on leave, and the front yard had been covered in a thick coat of snow she hadn’t had a chance to shovel off the driveway yet. Ash didn’t remember the faces of the man and woman who’d come in their dress whites that day, but she remembered the way her mother had screamed at the sight of them.
Ash shouldered past the shorter serviceman, ignoring the cautious, questioning ma’am she got at the sight of her staff lieutenant bars, and Sarah gasped out her name before collapsing into her, her whole body shaking and her fingers pressing almost painfully into the blades of Ash’s shoulders.
“Ashley,” Sarah sobbed again, like she was nine again and still thought Ash could fix everything.
But just like the morning her father had died, she couldn’t fix this either.
After a long moment, Sarah stepped back and walked into the apartment, her hand squeezing Ash’s hand so tight she thought it might lose circulation. The two men in their pristine white uniforms followed.
The lieutenant said carefully, “Mrs McCall-Williams, maybe you should have a seat.”
Sarah lifted her chin, a certain strength in her face even as tears dripped down her cheeks and off her chin. “Just tell me.”
He straightened. “Mrs McCall-Williams, the Systems Alliance Navy deeply regrets to inform you that your husband, Hospitalman Second Class Thomas McCall, was killed in action three weeks ago in the Traverse. The Chief of the Defence Force and the Chief of the Navy extend their deepest sympathies to you and your family in your loss.”
Sarah closed her eyes and her whole body shook again. “He’s been dead all this time?”
Ash squeezed her hand tighter.
The lieutenant paused. “I’m sorry, ma’am, his unit was cut off during an operation and we were only able to get confirmation of Hospitalman McCall’s death last night.”
“How did he die?”
Another hesitation. Ashley wondered if this baby-faced lieutenant had done this duty before. Ash hadn’t. She’d rather charge a machine gun.
“I haven’t been apprised of the details, ma’am, just that it was enemy action. There will be a full report of the circumstances once his unit have made statements.”
When the servicemen were gone, Sarah buried her face in Ash’s shoulder and cried. All Ash could do was gently guide her to the couch and then hold her through the shudders that ran through her.
She wished Shepard were here. Both for her calm practicality, the way she’d be able to get a fucking straight answer out of the Navy as to whether Thomas’ body could be brought to the Citadel for his widow, and for the selfish desire Ash had to be able to reach over and touch her, feel that she was real and alive. Dispel the gnaw of fear deep in her gut that she just couldn’t shake.
"It's not fair," Sarah whispered wetly, "we were supposed to have more time."
"Talk to me," Shepard said, standing between her pilot and her executive officer. Joker craned his head back slightly to look at her. She was already in the hard, black-painted planes of her combat armour, one gloved hand resting on the back of his chair.
"I'm sticking to passives for now," Wulandri responded, "so we don't give ourselves away, but I've picked up what looks like a cruiser and a squadron of fighters at least."
"How the fuck did Cerberus get a cruiser?" Shepard muttered, frowning.
"I mean," Joker shrugged, "they built this ship - brought you back. That was billions of credits." He had the Normandy tucked just above an asteroid with the IES engaged while the CIC crew observed.
"Yes but for warships you need a lot of infrastructure and - well, it doesn't matter. They're here, we have to deal with them."
"If it were just the cruiser, I'd suggest fighting," Wulandri said, "but with those fighters - that's too much for us in a straight up fight."
"I agree," Joker said. His girl was the best ship in the fleet, but that was a bit much for her. "And if you want to take the shuttle in...those fighters are patrolling between us and the station. There's no way you can get in there without being picked up, even in stealth, and a Kodiak isn't going to win a fight against a bunch of fighters."
Shepard's fingers drummed against the back of his chair. "Ideas?"
"Reinforcements," Wulandri said immediately, "the Navy hasn't abandoned this system yet. We ask the naval picket for assistance and attack."
"Yeah, but uh," Joker leaned back and met Shepard's dark eyes, "what about the kids? They'll be basically hostages, and we all know what Cerberus is like."
"We can't help them unless we get past those fuckers," Wulandri said practically.
"We could distract them," Joker suggested, "the Normandy is faster than that cruiser and those fighters don't have as much range as we do. We might not be able to beat them in a straight up fight, but we can outfly them, right EDI?"
EDI's silvery voice responded, "Between myself, Joker, and Commander Wulandri, I am certain we can."
"It's risky," Shepard glanced between him and Wulandri.
"We can do it," the XO said firmly. "But getting you out might be tricky. You'll be stuck on Grissom until we deal with the cruiser and its friends."
"Once we're on the station, you can do what you suggested - get the picket to help destroy the cruiser. I won't be able to take the entire platoon - that turian shuttle we picked up on Tuchanka doesn't have a stealth drive - but we can keep ourselves and the students alive until you can get us out."
"I don't like putting you guys in a position where there's no way out," Wulandri said, face grim. Joker swallowed and looked away, wondering if her mind had gone to the place his had. Virmire, the AA towers, the ground team with no way out except a nuclear bomb.
"We'll be fine," Shepard said in the tone that suggested she'd made her mind up, "I trust you to keep my ship in one piece, you three."
"Yes ma'am," Wulandri said, "just...be careful."
Shepard's expression softened, just a little. "Of course."
“Fuck, I hate this,” Corporal Li decided, looking down the long stretch of hallway. Grissom’s hallways were relatively large, painted in light colours to give the illusion of space, but all the Shepard could see past her shoulder was that they were being funnelled.
"Ooh-fuckin'-rah," Dressler replied. Taking the shotgun - which he had borne towards the end of the hallway - also meant he was taking point. First into the meat grinder. There was gunfire and screaming, the normal sounds of carnage and combat that they were heading quickly but cautiously towards. "This place will be rife for ambush spots."
“Watch your corners,” Shepard agreed, frowning at the doorway leading towards the office where the head of the Academy was reportedly holed up. “Stack up.”
The Marines did silently as they were bid. Dressler pressed a shoulder into the wall, closest to the doorway. He had his shotgun poised, waiting for a signal. Li stepped up behind him, gloved hand resting on his shoulder.
“Set.”
Face in a hard line, Dressler shared a glance with Watts, opposite him in the hallway. They both nodded simultaneously, and Dressler's omnitool glowed, sending the door unlock master code.
It slid open without a sound, and the young Marine burst through, Watts followed closely behind. Dressler cleared left, and Watts' assault rifle cut the opposite way.
The shotgun fired, toppling a Cerbie who had his back to the door. Watts' assault rifle chattered away, killing an engineer who had been fiddling with an auto turret.
Someone yelled "Contact!" and the shotgun fired again.
The four Cerberus troopers had been preoccupied with a locked door - they hadn’t expected the arrival of enemy infantry. The result was a third trooper hitting the ground a split second later, blood splattering the immaculate metallic floor as he was shot by Li, standing at Dressler’s shoulder, and Medeiros.
The fourth managed to get his rifle up but was abruptly surrounded by a blue-purple glow that propelled him into the ceiling with the cracking of bone. The light winked out, Liara lowering her hand, and the body tumbled to the ground. It still felt slightly unnatural for Shepard to be one of the last ones through the breach, but she was the officer, not the grunt, and her new Marines were proving themselves capable enough.
The man Li and Medeiros had shot choked out a breath and tried to grab for his carbine.
Dressler had already been halfway there, and his shotgun snapped on the Cerberus troopers helmet. With a single trigger pull the sparse metal floor was painted with red and blue gore.
"Clear," he called back to the rest of the Marines.
“Bravo, watch that door,” Hohepa called, gesturing at the far doorway, “Alpha, with me.”
The four Marines hurried to the other side of the corridor, while Li and her fireteam followed the sergeant. Shepard stepped past the bodies and knocked on the locked door.
“Doctor Sanders? It’s Captain Shepard. We’re clear.”
The door opened and a woman with blonde hair, a shotgun in her hands, stepped out. She looked haggard, as if she hadn’t slept, but relief flooded her features at the sight of the Alliance troops.
Corporal Li edged slightly behind Dressler.
“It’s good to see you, Captain,” Sanders said, “David always said you were one of the best.”
The familiarity made Shepard blink, but she took it in stride.
Medeiros nudged Dressler, then cocked her head towards Li. Dressler raised a brow. "What?" He mouthed.
Klein stepped forward, towards Sanders. "Are you injured, ma'am?"
“Cerberus troops attacked yesterday and killed most of our security staff,” Sanders said grimly, “Most of our students had been sent home, but there were some still on the station. Biotics and engineering students, mostly, who wanted to continue work on their projects to assist the war effort. I have…missing students, but the majority are with one of our teachers in Orion Hall. They’ve sealed the doors to keep Cerberus out, but…”
“Orion Hall,” Shepard noted.
“I’ll upload the station maps to your omnitools and do what I can to help you from this office. I have the master codes, so I’ll be more use here.”
“I can leave a couple of my Marines with you,” Shepard offered.
Sanders shook her head. “Those kids need all the help they can get, Captain.”
Shepard reluctantly nodded and turned.
They moved out in silence, Alpha in front, Bravo behind and Shepard and T’Soni between the two fireteam wedges. The moment they were out of sight of Kahlee Sanders, Li visibly relaxed, her shoulders slumping for a moment.
"What's your deal?" Medeiros asked Li, glancing at her across the hall.
Dressler cocked his head, clearly trying to listen in while keeping his eyes front.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Li said frostily.
"Ouch," Medeiros said, with fake hurt in her voice. "You clearly have something up your ass today."
"Leave it alone, Meddy," Dressler said from up front. "We have bigger fish to fry."
“Exactly-” Li began as they rounded a corner. Abruptly she cut herself off and held up a fist to halt the team. “Contacts front.”
Another handful of Cerberus troopers inside what had clearly been a classroom, their backs to the door. If they hadn’t needed to shut up, Li might have had some cold words for their situational awareness.
But opposite them were three students, encased in an orange barrier of some kind. Two boys and a girl, though one of the boys looked in his early twenties rather than his teens.
“It’s an impressive barrier, Octavia,” one of the troopers was saying, “your technology could benefit humanity.”
“It’s a handheld multicore shielding solution based on cyclonic barrier technology, jackass,” the girl said, defiant despite the fear shaking her voice, “and its Oc-tah-via.”
Under her visor, Li’s lips twitched. “I’ve got the one on the right.”
"Roger. I'll take left." Klein said.
Dressler ducked down, and stalked forward. The shotgun was deadly even when they were at the range of the door, but by the time Dressler let a round go, he was close enough to tear a huge hole in the back of the trooper to the rear.
Klein shot over his head, a perfect burst into the trooper to his side. Dressler dove out of the way and tried to find cover behind a desk before the gunfire erupted.
His shields crackled as a trooper fired at him, but then Li was shouting and shooting, and the man tumbled to the ground, clutching his chest. One reached for a grenade and flung it at Klein.
Shit, Shepard thought, and stepepd forward, appearing beside the younger Marine in a crack of thunder, pushing out a barrier around the two of them. The grenade went off, peppering the surroundings with shrapnel, most of which pinged off Shepard’s barrier.
Dressler's shotgun cornered the desk, at ankle height. When the gas expelled from his barrel, the troopers shield flared. The second shot obliterated his kneecap at the same time that Medeiros caught him in the helmet. He was dead before he hit the ground.
This time, when Dressler called "Clear!" he was breathless and his heartbeat could almost be heard over the net.
Shepard walked up to the barrier. “You kids alright?”
“S-stay back,” Octavia said.
“We’re Alliance,” Shepard began.
“I didn’t buy it from the last guy, I’m not going to from you.”
The kid’s bravado was somewhat admirable, but Shepard didn’t have time for this. She opened her mouth - but then Corporal Li stepped past her with a sigh, depolarising her visor.
The young Marine’s voice was dry. “Stop being an idiot, Octavia. We’re clearly Alliance.”
The girl, who looked around eighteen, blinked in surprise. “Xiang? What are you- when did you join the Alliance?”
“Long story, no time right now. We need to get out of here.”
Dressler gaped at Li. "You know her?"
"Small galaxy," Medeiros remarked.
"Take the barrier down," Klein said. "We're here to rescue you guys."
“Uh,” Octavia looked at Li.
The corporal waved an impatient hand, and after a moment the barrier fell. After a moment Octavia lurched forward and hugged Li. The Marine stiffened and then somewhat awkwardly patted the teenager on the back.
Octavia laughed awkwardly and stepped back. “That armour isn’t very comfortable.”
“Touching,” Shepard said from behind them, raising an eyebrow, “but we need to keep moving.”
"Roger that. I got point," Dressler said, performing a quick reload of the shotgun.
"You'll have to tell us why this place freaks you out so much, Li," Medeiros drawled before rejoining her formation.
"Ready when you are."
“I’m not freaked out,” Li protested.
“Why would she be?” Octavia asked quizzically, “she used to go here.”
"Wait, what?" Dressler turned around. "You used to go to nerd boarding school?"
Behind them Liao called, “Hey, it makes sense. She is a huge nerd.”
“Fuck you guys,” Li grumbled.
“No thanks,” Liao said cheerily.
"There's a huge difference between huge nerd who is clever and huge nerd who goes to huge nerd boarding school!" Dressler chortled. "You shoulda gone to officer school. Li's new nickname should be schoolgirl."
“Absolutely fucking not,” Li said immediately.
“Hmm,” Liao considered.
“I’ll murder you both in your sleep.”
"Well I like it," Mdedeiros declared. " And it explains a lot."
“You know I’m your team leader, right?” Li said peevishly, “I can make you run laps.”
“That sounds like an abuse of power to me, Corporal,” Hohepa broke in from behind them, amused.
“Ugh.”
"I'm not too worried, Sarge," said Dressler. "She couldn't smoke a hookah in a shisha lounge."
“We’ll see about that,” Li said darkly. Shepard smiled. She’d missed Marines, during her…alliance with Cerberus. The language of the Corps, the comradery. There’d been good people on her crew but it hadn’t been the same as the SR1 or her N teams before that.
Dressler chuckled, clearly going to retort, before he sharpened up and cocked his head to the side. "Voices," he said.
Li was immediately business, moving up beside him. Shepard pulled Octavia and the other students - two boys - to the back of the formation.
“You have to get up, Seanne,” the voice was young, male and desperate. When Li and Dressler peered around the corner, they could see a teenage boy trying to drag a teenage girl down the hallway, his face pale with fear.
The girl had been shot in the leg, leaving a streak of bright red behind.
“I can’t,” she told the boy, voice faint.
“Seanne, Reiley,” Li called, “it’s Xiang.”
She broke from cover before any of the Marines could say anything, jogging towards the two students.
“They were right behind us,” the boy called fearfully - and then the air split with gunfire as a far doorway opened, two troopers firing through. In a split second the corporal jumped forward instead of back towards cover - putting her shielded and armoured body in between the unprotected teenagers and the gunfire.
Her shields flickered and then died.
Goddamnit, kid, Shepard had time to think.
With an octave of terror in his voice, Dressler yelled "Xiang!" He too exposed himself to fire, but to give him room to throw a grenade into the doorway. "Get down!"
Medeiros was beside him in a flash, rifle barking away at the Cerberus troopers at the opposite end of the room.
The grenade went off as the Cerberus troops backpedalled frantically. Shepard moved in a flash of biotic energy, appearing in front of the corporal, now on the ground, and pushed out a shield over the four of them. Li was clutching her side and gasping for breath - but she was breathing, which was a good sign. She’d been shot several times, but it looked like the armour had absorbed most of the impacts, the ceramic plates cracked. The third had struck her in the abdomen, blood on her hands where she pressed them.
Sergeant Hohepa ran past them to the far doorway, followed by Lance Corporal Liao. The two of them fired into the corridor beyond before the sergeant called back, “One’s down, the other ran for it.”
Shepard rolled Li onto her side and the corporal groaned in pain. Two patients - she needed some extra hands. “I need the squad first aider over here!”
Dressler sprinted to her side, sliding next to her. "Let me see!" His hand was already retrieving a medigel canister.
“I’ll help the kid, you look after Li,” she said, and turned to the girl who was lying on the ground, half in the arms of her shell shocked brother. It looked like the bullet had missed the femoral artery, small mercies, but her leg had almost certainly been shattered. Lacking a medevac she could only do what she could - medigel and a splint.
Shepard glanced back at the two Marines, where Dressler was helping Li take off the shattered armour plate, his voice rough as he said, "It doesn't look too bad. Armour saved you. Medigel will do the rest. I just have to check the other sites to make sure there's no hidden injuries until the doc can look at you."
And then, quiet, softer: "You scared the shit outta me."
"Ow," the corporal said eloquently, but she bore his prodding with only a grimace. “I knew I was wearing armour - and they weren’t.”
Shepard grimaced even as she gently straightened Seanne’s leg for the splint. That was going to be exceedingly awkward to deal with.
"Still - you can't do that hero shit. You'll save no one if you're dead. The squad needs you."
"Ma'am, I think she's okay. She should be good to move and fight, but the doc will need to give her a medscan when we get back to the Normandy."
Shepard straightened, blood on her gloves from pressing medigel into the student’s wound, the girl whimpering softly. “Good to hear. Take yourself off point, Corporal.”
“Aye ma’am,” Li said and grabbed Dressler’s hand to haul herself to her feet, gritting her teeth against the pain.
Dressler helped her up and gave her a pat on the shoulder. "Yell if you need me." Then he returned to the doorway and was joined by Medeiros. Shepard waved at Watts to carry the injured student.
Shepherding a bunch of teenagers. They all looked so young, with their soft baby faces and wide eyes.
Fucking Cerberus.
"Want me on point, Sergeant?" Meddy asked Hohepa.
“Yeah,” Hohepa replied, “let’s get moving.”
“I’m David,” the twenty-something who’d been in the barrier with Octavia and the other teenager, and he was staring intently at Shepard’s red stripe.
“I’m Captain Shepard. We’ll get you out of here.”
“You have the same armour Major Riley does,” he said.
She blinked. “You know Major Riley?”
He nodded. “She rescued me from Cerberus. I hurt her, but she said it was okay, and she brought me here. She made it quiet.”
This close she could see there were thin, silver scars on David’s face. Surgical looking scars. She felt the warm pulse of anger in her chest. She hoped Lee had killed the fuck out of whoever had done that to him.
And now Cerberus had followed the kid here. “I won’t let Cerberus take any of you.”
“I believe you,” he said seriously, and it was one of the times Shepard felt it. The heavy weight of the blood stripe and all it represented. If the way the kid was looking at her was a reflection of how he looked at Lee Riley, Riley was getting the full hero worship treatment.
She had to get these kids out of here.
Codex Entry
Transcript of Call between Colonel REDACTED and Major Lee Riley:
REDACTED: You want to send the person who killed Weng and Ribeiro and wounded you…to a high school.
Major Lee Riley: Yes, ma’am. It wasn’t his fault, not really. That’s all on Cerberus. In any case, he’s disconnected from the equipment that allowed him to do that with the geth.
REDACTED: Very well. His involvement will be sealed and we’ll arrange for his tuition at Grissom.
Riley: Thank you, ma’am.
REDACTED: His brother should have some interesting things to tell us - a good capture, Major. Or he will be, once the broken jaw you gave him heals.
Riley: He deserved worse.
REDACTED: Deserved has little to do with it.
Riley: It won’t happen again, ma’am.
REDACTED: I’m giving your team some downtime. Take some time to decompress and then look at the list of candidates to reinforce your team.
Riley: Aye aye ma’am.
REDACTED: I’m sorry about Weng and Ribeiro. They were good operators.
Riley: I am too, Colonel.
REDACTED: What Shepard found in ‘83, this project…I’m getting a picture with Cerberus and it’s one I don’t like very much.
Riley: What are you thinking, Colonel?
REDACTED: Concentrate on healing up, Major. I’ll be in touch.
Notes:
Bit of a delay on this one, oops. Work getting in the way of writing my mass effect fanfiction :|
Chapter 26: Too Close For Comfort
Notes:
Long time no post rip. The usual suspect is Work of course.
This is currently unedited but I wanted to push out the update and will put the edits in once my beta has a chance to have a look at it.
Chapter Text
When the door to Orion Hall slid open, the first thing Shepard heard was the rumble of gunfire - and the raised voice of the last person she would have expected to find here.
“Eat this!” A familiar voice rose over the cacophony, followed by the sound of biotics lashing out. Two Cerberus troopers went flying, slamming into the far wall with bone crushing force.
Shepard blinked, even as she motioned for the Marines to spread out. “Jack?”
Jack straightened where she was standing in front of a huddle of Grissom students. “Shepard?”
That was when they heard mechanical movement and thudding. A large mech stooped through the doorway, painted in Cerberus colours.
“The fuck?” Hohepa asked, and then the floor in front of the sergeant exploded.
“Get to cover!” Shepard shouted. “Jack-”
Jack was already pushing the students towards a staircase and the limited cover of the second floor. “Keep them off us!”
“Get down!”
Gunfire cracked over the heads of the Marines as the mech pointed one of its ‘arms at them, the autocannon flashing with hot fury.
“Meddy,” Dressler called, “Your rocket!”
Meddy was pinned down, behind a support pillar. She held an empty hand up, as if saying ‘what am I supposed to do?’.
“Fuck sake!”
“I’ll suppress it!” Klein shouted over the din. “Cover me, Dress!”
Dressler threw the shotgun to his feet, retrieving his rifle from where he’d mag-locked it to his armour and laid down some covering fire until Klein could join him.
“Is the Sarge okay?!” Watts tried to peer ahead as Klein’s machinegun suddenly opened up with its deafening roar.
Liao threw herself down to her belly, her machinegun joining Klein’s, spitting a stream of fire into the doorway the mech was in.
“Liara, warp!” Shepard shouted before gathering her own barrier around her and darting forward to seize Hohepa by the webbing and drag her back behind a pillar. The sergeant rolled onto her side, gasping, but after a moment she gave Shepard a thumbs up.
“Just winded, ma’am.”
Liara stepped around the other side of the pillar and threw out a hand. Metal groaned and screeched as her biotic field slammed into the mech.
Medeiros was able to break free of the mech’s gaze, moving around to the right. Her hand snagged the launcher from behind her and she raised it. “Backblast clear! Fire in the hole!”
The rocket impacted the mech’s canopy, shattering it - and the body of the Cerberus operator, tearing him in half. One half slid to the ground as the mech ground to a halt, smoking, and the other stayed strapped into the cockpit.
“Mech’s down!” a Cerberus trooper shouted, distorted through his helmet, right before Shepard pulled him into the air with her biotics, and Liao fired a burst that stitched a half dozen holes in his chest. Shepard let the body flop to the floor.
“Jesus, good shot Meddy,” Dressler called, slamming a new sink into his rifle and lining up an engineer in his sights. Watts shot the engineer first though, and jeered.
The Cerberus troops clearly realised they were at a disadvantage, and the survivors retreated, sealing the door behind them.
Shepard let out a breath. “Fuckin’ Cerberus. Everyone in one piece?”
“Yep, all good!”
Dressler looked over to Li. “You still holding up?”
Li nodded, but her face was pale under her visor.
Jack vaulted over the railing of the second floor, landing surrounded by the purple aura of her biotic corona. She strode forward and before Shepard could react, punched her in the mouth, the one spot not protected by her visor.
“The fuck,” Shepard took a step back.
The Marines seemed shocked, though one or two raised their rifles uneasily.
“How many times did I tell you not to trust Cerberus?”
Shepard had had a very long fucking day. She grit her jaw, ignoring the throb of pain from her split lip. “I never fucking trusted Cerberus.”
“Well shit,” Jack said, “I bet that’s a huge comfort to all the people Cerberus has killed!”
“In case you didn’t notice,” Dressler said sarcastically, rifle trained on Jack, “We just killed like a hundred Cerbies to get here and save you.”
“None of this matters,” Shepard said, waving for the PFC to lower his weapon, though she gave him a nod, “we can argue about our moral culpability later, Jack.”
Jack nodded. “All I care about is getting my guys off the station.”
Shepard raised an eyebrow. “Your guys?”
The smile that spread across the biotic’s face was almost gently. She looked different, now Shepard had gotten a good look at her. Some of the wariness had faded, she’d filled in from the skinny, alley-dog figure she’d had before, and she was wearing a Grissom Academy uniform.
“Yeah, I guess so. I remembered what you said about Grissom, you know? Wanted to make sure the Alliance was being above board with these kids, and they knew I’d helped you. So…here I am.”
“I can’t think of anyone who could care about them more,” Shepard said seriously. And it was good to see Jack channelling everything she’d been through in a more healthy direction than piracy or violence.
Dressler lowered his rifle, cocking a brow at Watts. He leaned in, whispering, "She doesn't look very Alliance." Watts just shrugged.
"We should probably press forward, ma'am," Klein said. "There's bound to be even more ahead, and not just the ones we killed."
Jack nodded. “Yeah. What’s the plan, Shepard?”
“About that…” she hadn’t heard from the Normandy yet - who knew how long it’d take Wulandri to deal with the Cerberus naval picket, and there was no way Cortez could get back to them - or take out this many people. “Sanders, this is Ranger Actual. We’ve located the biotic students and some stragglers. I have one wounded, she’s stable. Is there a defensible location we can hole up in until the Navy gets here, over?”
“With respect, this is a school, not a fortress. I think evacuating is the better idea, considering we’re outnumbered. Sending you the navpoint for the Cerberus shuttles, they look lightly defended on camera, and their ship won’t be able to auto target them. Over.”
“We’re busting outta here in stolen shuttles?” Dressler grinned. “Shame I didn’t bring my sword!”
“Good for the rest of us,” Li said, leaning against the wall.
“Send me the navpoint to the shuttles, over.”
“Sent. I’ll meet you there, Captain. Over.”
“Dressler, Watts, get the doors open,” Shepard said, pointing at the far door.
“Roger!” Dressler grabbed his shotgun, stowing his rifle and following Watts to the exit. “Ready Eric.”
Watts sent the master unlock code and the door slid open. His rifle snapped up quickly, scanning for a target.
“We’ll take point and draw their fire,” Shepard told Jack grimly, “you follow on this parallel corridor.”
Jack nodded. “We’ll help out where we can.”
“Stay safe.”
“How’re you doing, Li?” she looked over at the younger Marine.
“I’m okay,” Li insisted, but there was a bead of sweat on her forehead.
Up ahead, Dressler's shotgun went off. "Contact!" He shouted. "Squad!"
"I see 'em," Watts yelled back. "We need an MG up here!"
Liao dashed forward, Typhoon thumping against her chest plate, stepped out to where Dressler and Watts were. She swore, staggering back as her shields lit up.
Shepard ran after her, pushing out a barrier. They were coming out on a garden of sweeping white architecture, green foliage and even a lake. It would have been pretty, if not for the squad of Cerberus troops infesting it, complete with turrets.
“Thanks, ma’am!” Liao braved her machine gun against the low wall in front of her and began firing at one of the turrets.
Rounds were exchanged over the water. While Liao's machinegun chattered away, Watts took a slow, steady pace. Ever the marksman, he squeezed off shots at exposed targets.
Klein slid in next to Dressler, who had once again ditched the shotgun.
"Ready?" Klein asked his assistant machinegunner.
Not taking time to look at him, face furrowed in concentration, Dressler simply replied, "What?"
"Let's go." Klein looked over his shoulder. "Bounding!"
As the Marines darted forward, the air shattered with the sound of the turrets firing, a drone that put Shepard’s teeth on edge. Their shields flickered in the bright white lighting of the station, but somehow they made it to the next scrap of cover - a pillar and some seating, somehow standing up the barrage of gunfire. From there, Klein had a clear view down at the engineer controlling the turrets to their front.
The downside was the long walkway and door that would easily allow Cerberus to flank them. This whole position was shit, but the only way they’d get through was to push through it. Shepard grabbed Liao by the shoulder and pointed. “Watch that doorway!”
“Yes, ma’am!”
Klein flicked his bipod down, and leaned forward. The engineer seemed almost surprised by the hail of gunfire, but the moment’s hesitation before he leapt for cover was enough for Klein to cut him down.
“Engi’s down!” He shouted.
Dressler handed him a new sink with gritted teeth. “Good shooting.”
The sound of constant machinegun fire shook the Marines’ bones.
Liao swore and fired a burst at the doorway as the door slid open and white-armoured figures poured out. A lot of them, Shepard thought grimly and turned towards Liara - but the asari was already moving.
The air twisted and tore with blue light. Several troopers screamed as they were pulled into the air.
Shepard hit the roiling biotic field with one of her own. The air shook with the brassy thunder of a biotic explosion. Bodies hit the ground.
“Bravo, cover us. Alpha, with me!” she shouted. They couldn’t stay here. She ran towards the doorway, trusting the Marines to follow.
Meddy was behind Shepard in a flash. Klein took his feet quickly, hauling the heavy machinegun into his chest. Dressler hesitated for a moment, casting a look at his Corporal, but Li wasn’t in any state to be running, so he trailed behind Klein as fast as he could follow.
Shepard burst through the doorway. A Cerberus officer turned - she lashed out and her biotic wreathed fist caught him in the face. He crumpled to the ground as his squad beyond reacted, raising weapons.
At full speed, Klein threw himself to the ground, sliding a short way before coming to a stop. He opened up with the machinegun firing a burst dead centre into a Trooper’s breastplate, causing him to collapse.
Dressler caught up, taking a knee next to him and opened fire with his own rifle.
The Cerberus troopers got off a few shots that lit up the team’s shields, but Shepard swept her hand forward, sending a cascade of biotic energy thundering down the hallway. A few more gunshots, and the corridor was still.
She opened her mouth.
The radio crackled with Hohepa’s voice, back with Bravo. “-far doorway, mech comin’ out-”
The sergeant’s voice cut off.
“Shit,” Shepard swore, “c’mon, Medeiros, let’s go!”
“Following!” She had unhooked her launcher and maglocked her rifle as she let Shepard lead her to the mech. “I only have one rocket left, Captain!”
Shepard pulled the door open. The mech was clanking in the courtyard below, focused on Bravo. “Make it count, Lance Corporal.”
The mech’s machinegun fired away at the other squad. Watts attempted to move, to get out of the line of fire. As he did, the mech’s autocannon fired, dangerously closed. He cried out, throwing himself to the ground.
Medeiros yelled, “Backblast clear! Fire in the hole!” and traded her rocket into the mech. This time, the side of the mech was blown away and it span on its remaining lef as it crashed into the steel floor.
Meddy gave a whoop. “Mech’s down!”
“Get fire on the courtyard,” Shepard ordered, raising her rifle to follow suit, “Ranger 2, Ranger Actual, sitrep, over.”
“Watts is wounded,” Hohepa responded, “green on ammo, over.”
“Dressler, get over there,” she called.
“Shit, Eric!” Dressler rushed over to where Shepard was, sliding into cover.
Watts was exposed, though the fire was coming from below, so he was doing his best to shield himself by curling into a ball.
“Liao, suppress ‘em!”
Without waiting for a response, Dressler rushed over to Watts’ side, keeping his head low. As rounds cracked overhead, he leaned in close, inspecting the breastplate. “You’re in one piece,” he shouted over the gunfire. “Hang on!” Already leaned in, it was an easy movement for the young Australian to haul Watts over his shoulder and take off towards Shepard and the safety of cover.
Shepard helped him on his way with a hand grabbing him by the front of the webbing and pulled him into cover. “Focus on Watts,” she told him, and turned back to fire at the enemy.
Above them, glass shattered and then roiling orbs of blue energy saiiled down, tossing Cerberus troops around wherever they struck.
“Huh,” Shepard said. So that was what was meant by ‘biotic artillery’.
“Roger!” Dressler did a quick check of Watts’ vitals. He was breathing hard and when Dressler flipped his visor up to inspect his eyes, they appeared rolled back into his head. “He’s unconscious, but he’s alive!”
When Dressler had a look at the breastplate from the side that had been closest to the mech, he noticed small punctures in the ceramic. “Shrapnel, ma’am.” His voice was high, heaped in stress. “I can’t tell if it’s gone all the way through or not, but he might not be in any shape to run or fight if he does wake up.”
“We’ll have to carry him then,” she said calmly, “you’re doing a good job, PFC.”
He nodded, cautiously applying some medigel over the shrapnel holes, just in case.
“Dress,” Klein’s voice came over the ‘net. “I’m outta ‘sinks.”
“Medeiros, take his sinks and run ‘em over,” Shepard instructed. The Lance Corporal was already black on her rockets, and Dressler was busy.
“Got it.” Meddy left the cover she had been in where she was exchanging fire with the Troopers to have Dressler hand the spare sinks over to her. “Dressler,” she said seriously, seeing the worry in his face. She put her rifle down and put her free hand on his shoulder, giving a small shake. “Eric will be fine. Just focus on him.”
“I am,” he said coolly. They shared a terse look.
She grabbed her rifle and spoke into her own radio. “On the way, Klein.”
Meideros dashed off, her shields lighting up when a Cerberus trooper took a few potshots at her. Shepard leaned out of cover and fired a burst with her rifle to force him back into cover.
Move. They had to move.
“Liara,” she pointed out where she wanted the biotic singularity. Right in the middle of the current Cerberus position on the far side of the courtyard.
Liara shot her a look but threw out a hand anyway, and Shepard felt the gravity well shift and distort.
“Netcall, cease fire,” she ordered into her radio.
There was a pause, consternation in Hohepa’s voice as she acknowledged the order.
While Liao's MG silenced immediately, Klein, who had just received new sinks from Meddy, fired a few long bursts away before he was thumped on the helmet by Medeiros.
The gunfire raggedly died down.
Shepard opened the gravity well around herself, and for a moment she existed in between here and there - and the next she was smashing into Liara’s biotic field. The air around her exploded, sending the troopers and their officer flying.
She pushed out her barrier around her until it snapped, and the resulting energy bloomed out around her, toppling the three Cerberus operatives who’d started climbing to her feet. Her suit beeped at her as her shields shorted out.
One of the troopers was lying on the ground, his legs shattered and the air twisting with his distorted screams. He still managed to raise his carbine and pull the trigger. Fire burst across her bicep as the round struck ceramic plate and ballistic weave and then she moved, kicking at his arm and sending the next few rounds into the ceiling.
She pushed the muzzle of her rifle into his face, scraping his visor, and pulled the trigger.
Blood spattered across the floor tiles.
Shepard took a moment to lean against the nearest wall, the kind of tired that came from fighting through classrooms more than the physical exertion, and checked her arm. No blood, so her armour had stopped it.
She keyed her comm, “Ranger Two, Ranger Six, area clear. Regroup on my pos, over.”
One by one, the Marines left their positions to meet with Shepard. Medeiros had gone back for Dressler's shotgun, since her launcher was now empty, and Dressler had draped Watts over his shoulders, carrying the still unconscious American.
As they approached, Dressler reported to Hohepa. "Eric's still unconscious, Sergeant. Like Li, he'll need a full medscan to make sure it's not something worse? but I'm ninety-nine percent sure he has a hell of a concussion."
Shepard grimaced. The young Marine being unconscious was far from a good sign.
Hohepa said grimly, “Nothing we can do right now.”
“We’re close to the shuttles,” Shepard told them.
"Are there other students to rescue, ma'am?" Klein asked.
“From what Sanders said, this is the majority of them, and we’re not in much shape to sweep the entire station for any stragglers,” she said reluctantly.
"If we hang around much longer, these WIAs might become KIAs," Dressler said grimly.
“Exactly. Let’s get moving.”
"Someone else has to take point."
"I got it," said Medeiros.
The rocketeer was out of ammo, the marksman and the team leader were both wounded, and the machine gunner had no assistant.
Really, it was a miracle no one had died.
So it was some relief when Shepard heard the familiar cool tones of her ship AI in her earpiece.
“Captain, this is EDI. We have returned to communication range along with two Alliance cruisers, and are engaging the enemy naval picket.”
Shepard let her shoulders slump, just a little, with relief. “Good to hear. We’re leaving in Cerberus shuttles - try not to shoot us.”
“I will do my best,” EDI said too sweetly, and then more seriously, “We would evacuate you, but Wulandri is concerned about bringing the battle too close to the station.”
“Understood. We’re trying to extract now. I’ll send the navpoint once we’re off station.” Once she closed the comm, she refocused on Liara and her Marines, “The Normandy is back on station and will be available to assist once they’ve dealt with the cruiser.”
"Oorah," Dressler remarked dryly, shifting Watts' weight.
"Ready to push off," Medeiros said. She had Dressler's shotgun mag locked to her back with her rifle in her arms. Klein stood beside her, ready to open the door, but looking a little uneasy at the lack of heatsinks.
She nodded at him to open the door. When it slid open, it revealed a long corridor, glass windows - and beyond it, the white and yellow of Cerberus shuttles. In front of the window stood Kahlee Sanders and a handful of teenagers. Kids the director of Grissom Academy had rescued on her way.
“Captain, it’s damned good to see you,” she said with a smile.
Shepard nodded. “We’ll get the kids and my wounded on the shuttle first, then us.”
Watts was slowly stirring on Dressler’s shoulders, but he seemed confused, his speech slurring, and Li was leaning against a nearby wall, her face pale as a sheet under her visor. They needed Chakwas, and soon.
“Shepard!” Jack called, voice stringent as she came barrelling out of the nearby door, followed by the gaggle of scared teenagers. Before Shepard could get a word out, her former crewmate had seized her by the front of her webbing.
She was not enjoying the manhandling today. She opened her mouth, but Jack cut her off.
“I counted them every so often but I turned around and Rodriguez is missing, the little idiot must have taken a wrong turn-”
“Fuck,” Shepard grimaced and turned. “Hohepa, get the wounded and as many kids onto the first shuttle as you can. Liao, Liara, with me. Let’s go, Jack.”
Stupid, idiot kid.
Jack ran through the familiar hallways of Grissom Academy, two Marines and an asari commando-slash-scientist clattering after her in their heavier armour.
She was going to kill Rodriguez, bring her back, and then kill her again.
“Jack,” Shepard said, a hint of irritation in her voice.
“She’s fuckin’ 17, Shepard, dont give me a tactical lecture right now.” Jack wasn’t sure if Shepard’s presence was reassuring - because she had a way of doing the impossible, or convincing you that you could do the impossible - or still aggravating as fuck - because she’d made Jack believe, and then up and left for some blockheaded sense of honour.
The air cracked with gunshots. Shit.
She burst through the door. Rodriguez was on the ground behind some chairs, clutching her leg, red dripping from between her fingers. Advancing on her were two Cerberus troopers, guns raised.
Jack lashed out with all the protective rage in her, ripping the seating out of its rivets and smashing it into the troopers. One was still, a bit of metal through his chest. The other staggered before jerking as Liao fired a burst into his chest. He joined his friend on the ground.
“F-” she cut herself off, “We’ve got you.”
“T-they shot me,” Rodriguez stammered, shivering under Jack’s hand when she placed it on her shoulder. Shepard dropped to her knees besides the teenager and pulled out a tube of medigel.
“Doesn’t look like it’s hit anything serious,” Shepard said soothingly, spreading the gel over the injury. “I have a doctor on my ship, she’ll fix you up. Do you think you can walk?”
“I don’t think so.”
“It’s alright.” Shepard picked the kid up easily, and from the starstruck look on Rodriguez’s face, she’d earned herself some hero worship.
“Let’s get back to the shuttle,” Jack said, eyeing the far doorway. She needed to get her kids off this damned station.
“Agreed. Liao, take point.”
Jack followed, and it felt familiar. They’d worked well together, in the end. Jack had been determined not to buy into what Shepard had been selling, but here she was. The anger was even starting to be hard to keep a grip on.
It had stung, to know Shepard valued some things more than the ship and crew, but now Jack had her own priorities. Twenty-eight of them, one of them currently carried in Shepard’s careful grip.
Hell.
“I’m not ready, am I?” Rodriguez asked.
“Ready for what?” Jack could hear the raised eyebrow in Shepard’s tone.
“Most of the students,” Jack said, the fear that had been sitting with her since the war started bubbling up again, “they’re eighteen, or close to it. And they’re all biotics. The military wants them, and the ones that stayed - they’re volunteers.”
Shepard was silent for a long moment. “I see.”
Left unsaid was that biotics who hadn’t volunteered were getting draft notices these days.
“I don’t want my friends to go without me,” Rodriguez said miserably, “but I’m useless.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Jack said roughly, “you’re doing fine.” Self-doubt was a killer just as sure as a bullet. “You kept your head today and didn’t die. Better than plenty in theri first battle.”
“You don’t have a gun or armour, and you survived. A victory in my book,” Shepard said calmly. “Let’s get you all out of here.”
The shuttle full of tired Marines didn’t exactly smell like roses, but Shepard popped her helmet off regardless. She pulled out a tube of medigel and started dabbing it onto her lip.
“Sorry about your face,” Jack said gruffly from where she was sitting on the bench across from her, not quite looking at Shepard.
Shepard touched her still smarting mouth, “I’ve had a lot worse.”
“I was fuckin’ furious at you,” Jack admitted, “You up and left us to go martyr yourself. I’ve been saving that punch for months.”
“My face can attest to that,” Shepard said dryly.
“I didn’t understand it. I still don’t. But these guys - I’d do anything for them.”
Shepard smiled, despite the way it pulled the cut on her lip. “I can see that. They’ve been a good influence on you.”
“Yeah, yeah..”
“I could use your help.”
“You’re not getting it,” Jack said firmly, if with a bit of regret, “Sorry, Shepard, but these kids need me more than you do.”
Shepard leant back in the shuttle seat and nodded. “I understand.”
“Yeah, You’re good at that shit. You make up with that girl you were pining after?”
Shepard blinked. “Yes.”
“Good. Life’s too fuckin’ short for your monk warrior bullshit.”
Shepard raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t describe myself that way.”
She drank too much and had too many friends in low places for one thing.
“I guess you did fuck the cheerleader.”
“Jack,” she said, pained.
“What? Just because I hate her guts doesn’t mean I can’t think she has great tits-”
“Jack,” Shepard said again, sharper this time, very aware of her half asleep Marines in the same shuttle as them. She didn’t need her personal life paraded around in front of them. Especially given who Miranda was.
She felt a twinge of guilt at thinking about the politics of their friendship, but she had to think about optics now. Especially given how much of a beating her reputation had already taken.
“Alright, alright, Girl Scout,” Jack grinned in that sharp way of hers.
Shepard studied her. “What will happen with the students?”
Jack’s shoulders slumped. “I’ll look after them until the Alliance puts them through their basic. After that…they’ll probably get scattered across the Alliance.”
Shepard leant back, crossed her arms, thinking of a long ago conversation she’d had with Kaidan Alenko. He’d had more ideas than he’d allowed himself to voice.
If he hadn’t died -
But he had.
“I’ll make a recommendation to the Marine Corps, try to keep you together.”
Jack blinked. “You can do that?”
“I can’t make any promises, but there’s a new biotic company that could use another platoon.”
“Thanks,” Jack said, voice rough with emotion and Shepard looked away, trying not to think about all those kids going into combat.
Codex Entry
Systems Alliance Draft Notice:
Department of Defence
3/11/2186
To:
Mr Benji J Holtman
DOB: 17/10/2168
14 Clearwater Avenue
Scott City
TERRA NOVA
You are hereby ordered for induction into the Systems Alliance Defence Force, and to report to SCOTT CITY INDUCTION STATION on 14/12/2186 at 6:30 AM local time.
Important Notice:
If you have had previous military service, are currently a member of the SADF Reserves or Colonial Guard, bring your Certificate of Discharge or current military ID.
Bring your colony and Systems Alliance documentation. Bring enough clothes for 3 days, and money to last one month of personal purchases.
You may be exempt from service if: you have a mental or physical condition prohibiting you from military service, you are an only child, you are a survivor in a family in which one or more immediate family members have been killed in the line of duty, you are the sole caretaker of dependents.
The Defence Force will provide transportation, meals and lodging where necessary. If you are found qualified, you will be inducted into the Defence Force. If you are found not qualified, return transportation, meals and lodging will be provided to your address of origin.
Be aware you may be found unqualified for induction and that you have the right to continue your current employment if you are not inducted.
Wilful failure to report as named in this order subjects the violator to fine and imprisonment.
Chapter 27: Rude Awakening
Chapter Text
Spectre Agent Jondam Bau knocked sharply on the nondescript apartment door. The more appropriate thing to do would have been to meet with his fellow agent in the Office itself, but she had been absent from her office the past two days. The matter was urgent and sensitive enough that an email had been insufficient.
The door slid open and a human woman blinked at him.
He thrust out a hand in the human greeting. “Agent Williams, I am Agent Jondam Bau, Special Tactics and Recon. Apologies for the interruption, but I have something I must discuss with you.”
She shook his hand and nodded, stepping back. “Alright. Come in.”
Bau had asked his colleague, Agent Saen Maetok, of her opinion of Agent Williams, given that she had been the one to evaluate her. Determined, hot-tempered, Maetok had responded, but not easily corrupted and far from unintelligent. A Spectre more of Saren’s ilk (not that making the comparison would be wise) than Jondam’s own, though without Saren’s particular vicious streak. The sort you pointed at the very large problems and got out of the way of the ensuing bloodshed.
He could use a Spectre like that.
He followed her into her living room. She had clearly been working on her coffee table, by the laptop and secure datapads scattered around.
“We’ve actually met before,” she told him, “during the Battle of the Citadel.”
“Ah. You were one of Shepard’s soldiers, when we fought to retake the Tower.” At her nod, he dipped his head, “Apologies.”
She shrugged it off with a smirk, “I was wearing a full face helmet. Now, how can I help you, Agent Bau?”
“A few of my CSec contacts have made me aware of you prying into police matters.”
She frowned. “I’m a Spectre, I can do that.”
He nodded. “Of course. I have been noticing certain irregularities myself, and I am concerned about the security of the Citadel.”
“What kind of irregularities?”
Not one to swiftly trust, this one. “Consistent discrepancies within the Customs department of CSec, most traceable to a handful of human officers recruited within the past five years. A large amount of weapons that have managed to slip through in the past eight months, often in the hands of seemingly normal people who then attempt what appear to be assassinations.”
Williams grimaced. “Like the guy who tried to kill me.”
“Precisely. You’ve been investigating him, I imagine?”
“Yeah,” she tapped one of the datapads on her table, “found a whole bunch of people the Alliance Council office has given exemptions to. A lot of them have ended up in CSec.”
“Bypass the normal procedures to get these people onto the Citadel, then have them recruited into CSec where they can facilitate weapons smuggling,” Bau surmised.
“Yeah, but what’s the end goal? The Councillor’s office - it’s the acting President of the Alliance’s Office right now. If Udina wants guns, he’s the most powerful human alive right now.”
“That is the question,” Bau agreed, “which is why I have come to you. I haven’t brought in any of the implicated officers yet for fear of tipping off the larger player, which presents an opportunity. They cleared a vessel, the MSV Agamemnon, this morning, and it is currently still unloading.”
“So you want to go have a look,” Williams guessed.
“Yes. I’m told you’re an excellent shot.”
“I’m alright,” Williams said with a sharp smile.
“The back-up would be appreciated.”
“I’ll grab my rifle.”
From the outside, the Agamemnon looked like a dozen other Kowloon-class freighters - painted dull grey and wearing her long years of labours in streaks of rust down her hull plates. Ashley followed Jondam Bau through the docks, past civilian crew of every species. The Agamemnon loomed above them both, larger than the asari ship that was clamped into the opposite deck.
Ash adjusted her grip on her bag. Inside was her Saber marksman rifle, their last resort as Bau had put it. His plan was simple enough. They’d go to the port gangway, guarded only by a couple of crewmen, subdue them with sedative darts the salarian had brought, then sneak their way onboard. In the main hold, they’d locate and examine the cargo.
Bau’s technical skills were much more suited for it than her own, but she’d realised pretty early into their conversation that she was there mostly to shoot their way out if everything went to hell.
“This way,” Bau told her and they sidestepped a turian in the dirty work clothes of someone who spent most of their time with engines.
Her omnitool pinged at the same time as Bau’s. She blinked and brought up the message.
PRIORITY MESSAGE, OFFICE OF SPECIAL TACTICS AND RECONNAISSANCE: Explosion at Citadel Security Headquarters. Citadel Tower and embassies entering lockdown.
Ash’s stomach sank.
“We must get back to the Presidium,” Bau said grimly.
“We should use the tunnels,” she suggested. The streets, elevators, and rapid transit would be dangerous soon.
“Agreed,” Bau replied sharply.
They turned.
Above them, a metallic screech came from the Agamemnon. Despite herself, and Bau’s hand grabbing her forearm, Ashley looked back.
The top of the ship was sliding open like an enormous door. From it came the humming of thrusters, right before two Mantis gunships rose from within, followed by a Kodiak. Pale-painted aircraft, brimming with weapons.
“That’s a bit more than the guns I was expecting,” Ash managed, and then Bau’s grip hardened. The two Spectres sprinted down the docks, shoving an unfortunate dockworker out of the way. Chaos was spreading along the dock as people realised what was happening.
“Do not resist and you will not be harmed,” a voice boomed from the lead gunship, “Citadel Security, lay down your weapons.”
The response to that from the CSec post further down the docks was clearly not to their liking, because in the next moment two rockets were smashing into it in a flower of flame and debris. Screams split the air.
“Shit!”
They skidded around the corner and there - the hatch into the keeper tunnels.
“I will get it open,” Bau said shortly, pistol in one hand and omnitool lighting up the other.
“I’ll watch our six,” she responded, dropping her bag and hurriedly pulling her rifle out. The actions were rote. Check the heatsink and ammo block were seated correctly, flick off the safety, shoulder it.
Gunshots cracked the air. More screams. Ash’s finger balanced on her trigger. The metal Citadel floor was cold through her pants.
“There,” Bau hissed, “I have it open. Quickly!”
The salarian disappeared through the hatch, and after a moment she followed him, climbing down the ladder, into the dark of the keeper tunnels. The only light was the dull red glow of the emergency lights.
“It’s Cerberus,” she said, into the still, tepid air.
“It seems likely,” Bau agreed.
She managed to open her omnitool and start a call.
“What are you doing?” the other Spectre asked.
“My sister is on the Citadel, I need to make sure she’s safe.” Cerberus had already targeted Ash before and she wouldn't put it past the bastards to go after Sarah.
“Ashley,” Thane answered, “I assume you’ve noticed we’re under attack.”
“Yep,” she said dryly, “look, I hate to ask it, but my sister is in my apartment alone and I need to go protect the Council-”
“I’m afraid Cerberus troops have cordoned off this part of the Presidium. I am currently concealed in a storefront, but I am not certain I can make it back to the Wards.”
Shit.
“However, I have a friend who is currently in the Wards. Her name is Kasumi Goto. I will ask her to take your sister to a safehouse.”
“Thank you, Thane,” she said, kinda wishing she could hug him through the comm line.
“Of course. I will attempt to help Citadel Security where I can.”
“Good hunting,” Ash told him, because ‘stay safe’ didn’t seem likely.
“To you as well.”
“Kasumi Goto,” Bau said from below her on the ladder, sounding rather perturbed. “I’ve been trying to arrest her for three years. She’s a thief. A very good one.”
“If she keeps my sister safe, I don’t care,” Ash said flatly, and tried another call. This time it didn’t go through. “Comms are jammed.”
She was starting to wish she’d brought her hardsuit.
Armando-Owen Bailey was having a pretty terrible day.
The normally pristine Presidium smelt of smoke. He’d been drinking a coffee and cursing at paperwork in his nice embassy sector office when the deck underneath his feet had shuddered.
An explosion, in the middle of CSec Headquarters, that was the chaotic chatter over the radio.
By the time he’d gotten to the nearest station to his own, trailed by his five officers who’d been on duty, they were already under attack.
Most of the officers on the Presidium were patrol officers - uniform, sidearm, vest and kinetic barrier. The result when they were attacked by soldiers in sleek white, black, and yellow armour carrying assault rifles was pretty foreseeable.
Bailey leant against the nearest wall, breathing hard. Kadinius and O’Conner were down, along with three of the ten officers from this station. He was down to two heatsinks.
“What do we do, sir?” asked Officer T’Lira. Purple blood was trickling down her arm, but it was a graze.
They’d had them dead to rights, but Cerberus had retreated. Why? This had been a diversion. Tying them up. The real attack would be on the Headquarters, and probably the Council Tower.
“We need to retake HQ,” he said grimly.
“How?” she asked.
It was a fair damn question. Ten patrol officers and him - a fuckin’ desk jockey these days - against an assault force?
“We can’t stay here - it’s just a target.” If Cerberus had pulled back, they wouldn’t be gone for long. “We can’t take HQ alone. Any luck getting in contact with Special Response?”
His E-Crimes officer, a pale green salarian called Yezalo, shook his head. His spindly fingers were trembling on his omnitool. “Comms across the station are down.”
He thought. “Where’s the nearest military installation?”
“There’s the Alliance garrison at their Presidium dock-”
“Then that’s where we’re going.” Alliance troops would have numbers, more guns and things like rocket launchers to deal with Cerberus.
They stuck to the back corridors and maintenance tunnels, sometimes hearing screaming, sometimes hearing gunfire. No matter how much the other officers wanted to help, Bailey kept them moving. They couldn’t help anyone if they were dead. They couldn’t take control of the situation without retaking Headquarters - and all of its powerful system controls and comms equipment.
When they emerged into the square in front of the Alliance Tower, it was clear they’d been in a fight themselves. The planters were pockmarked with bullet holes and there was a scorch mark on the floor.
There were some Marines in hasty positions around the building, including one with a machine gun that got swivelled in their direction - and just as quickly pointed away after some swearing from a sergeant nearby.
“CSec,” called the sergeant, a cold-eyed man with a dented helmet, “you guys look like shit.”
He felt like it too. “Who’s in charge here?”
“Rear Admiral Sidorov,” the sergeant replied.
“God fuckin’ help us,” the PFC on the machinegun muttered, quelled by a biting look from his superior.
“I’m Commander Bailey, I need to speak to her.”
“Go right in, sir,” the Marine said laconically.
Inside what had once been a reception area, there was an organised chaos. An aide station had been set up in one corner, medics working on a handful of wounded humans in blue and white armour, other Marines going through ammunition or supplies.
Overseeing it was a harried looking Admiral Sidorov, still in her dress uniform, though one sleeve was torn, accompanied by a handful of Marine and Navy officers, most of them in armour.
“Admiral,” he called. They’d met occasionally due to his work in the embassies. She was a stickler for protocol, drove him as mad as the rest of the politicians and politicians wearing uniforms.
“Commander Bailey. Good to see you alive.”
“Likewise. I need your help.”
She arched a brow. “Oh?”
“CSec HQ is in enemy hands. If we want to regain control of the station, we need to get it back.”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Commander, but I have my orders to secure the docks and the warships we have here-”
“With respect, ma’am,” said one of the Marines beside her, a tall, dark-haired man with a thick Scottish accent, “Bailey is right. We both know we aren’t the main focus of this attack - we sit here, we’re ceding the initiative to the enemy.”
The other Marine beside him, a solidly built woman with cropped red hair, nodded in agreement. “This is a defensible position, ma’am. One platoon backed up by our turrets can hold it. Our other platoons can help CSec.”
Sidorov frowned. “If you two are sure.”
“We’re sure, Admiral.”
There was a quick discussion between the two Marines as to which platoon to leave and which to take, and then the dark-haired Marine stepped forward and offered Bailey a hand to shake. “Staff Lieutenant Euan MacDonnell, commanding officer of Charlie Company, 1/10th Marines. This is Gunnery Sergeant Natalie King, my acting First Sergeant.”
“Thanks for the help,” Bailey said, “we’re not exactly set up for an assault.”
“We’re not full strength,” King said, “but we should have enough to punch through.”
“Been out fighting?” he asked, with the solemnity that deserved.
A flash crossed the woman’s face. “Yeah. Sir, I’m gonna get the platoons ready to move.”
“Thanks, Gunny.” MacDonnell watched her go and gave Bailey a grim smile. “We were Eighth Fleet, not long ago. We were the lucky ones to get out, but most of the 1/10th is still missing and a lot of good Marines didn’t make it out.”
“I’m sorry.” What else could you say?
“Me too, mate, me too.”
All Ashley could smell was smoke as the two Spectres crept down a tunnel. This one, Bau said, led to a concealed maintenance entrance to the Citadel Tower.
The salarian held up a hand. “I will scout the entrance. One moment.”
He disappeared in a shimmer as his tactical cloak activated. Ash knelt, rifle shouldered, and waited.
Don’t let us be too late. The Council had been meeting, meaning they were all in one place - one big target. With comms down they had no way of knowing what was going on. She had no way of knowing if Sarah was safe.
Ninety seconds later, Bau reappeared at her elbow. “Two troopers on the street. They seem to be CSec turncoats.”
“All those recruits,” she said faintly.
“Yes,” he said tersely, “luckily for us they have weapons but not hardsuits. I will take the one on the left, please deal with the other.”
Ash slung her rifle across her back and pulled her knife out of her calf sheath. “Yeah, I’ll take care of the fucker.”
Silently they crept out of the tunnel. The two Cerberus men were humans in CSec uniforms, the Cerberus symbol hastily drawn onto their shoulders. Probably more so their own side didn’t shoot them than any adherence to the Citadel Conventions. They were carrying Argus rifles, likely from the CSec armoury. A broken neon light advertising Real Palaven Delights (with two exclamation marks) cast flickers of pink over them.
Bau struck a few split seconds before she did, jamming a stiletto-like knife dripping with a substance into his target’s back.
Hers managed a brief, “What the f-” before Ash lunged forward, using her momentum to drive her combat knife into his kidney just under his armoured vest, slapping her other hand over his mouth to muffle the groan of pain and wrench his head back. Before he could recover to do anything, she pulled the knife free and slit his throat.
She dropped the body, blood slick and warm on her right hand. Bau nodded to her and crossed the street to open the maintenance hatch. She stepped over the dead man and joined him. The radio on the guy’s belt buzzed.
“Foxtrot, come in, over.”
“Better hurry,” she said flatly, wiping her knife on her pants and getting her rifle back up. Bau didn’t respond, just kept tapping away on the holo console that had popped up.
Running footsteps - a flash of orange and white around the street corner. She squeezed the trigger. The retort of the Saber felt insanely loud. The troopers threw themselves back, swearing as one’s shields broke. She fired again to reassure them that it was a bad idea.
“Bau,” she began.
“It’s locked for a reason!” he said, and then pushed a weird looking pistol into her hand. “Here, use this.”
“I have a rifle-”
“It’s a sticky grenade launcher,” he corrected and went back to the console.
“Oh.”
The troopers edged around the corner, firing as they did. The air filled with gunfire. Ash’s shields lit up in a flash of blue. She raised the tiny little grenade launcher and fired.
“The fuck,” their pointman said as the projectile attached itself to his chestplate. In the next moment, the explosion shredded him and the guy standing next to him. She fired again even as the troopers hastily backpedalled.
“Nice,” she said appreciatively. She kinda missed the thunk Alliance grenade launchers made though.
“It’s called the Scorpion, STG design. Keep it. Quickly, before they come back.” The maintenance hatch swung open and the Spectres ducked inside before Bau sealed it behind them. She breathed out in the second before they started to run again, sliding in a new heatsink and tucking the old one into a pocket.
They burst out into the chamber - and immediately had several guns pointed in their directions.
“Friendlies,” she called breathlessly - but then one black-armoured figure was lowering her gun, rushing forward and grabbing Ash by the arm.
“Ashley, you’re alive!” Hernandez said, relief flooding her voice. Behind Hernandez’s shoulder she could see a handful of Council guards - two Alliance including her friend, three turians and an asari commando - and three of the Council. Sparatus, Tevos, and Udina.
Where was Valern?
“You both survived. Good..” that came from a familiar, lanky figure. Saen Maetok was in black and yellow armour, the Spectre symbol on her chest.
“Agent Maetok,” Bau said politely. “Where is Councillor Valern?”
“He had a meeting set up, it appears,” Maetok said. “It seems he was at CSec Headquarters.”
“Shit,” Ash muttered. The explosion…”What’s the plan?”
“The Tower is defensible,” Maetok said crisply, “we keep the Councillors in the safe room nearby and prepare ourselves for the building being breached.”
“Just sit here?” Udina demanded. His face was flushed. His assistant, Hanna Ebner, was next to him, still in one of her pencil skirts. Ash had half expected her to be afraid of what was going on, but there was a calm stillness to her expression.
“Councillor,” Ashley said with all the patience she could muster, “the streets are full of fighting. We’d be far more vulnerable leaving the Tower. The attack seems to be mostly limited to the Presidium - the CDF and CSec will reassert control in time, but right now we need to focus on making sure Cerberus doesn’t get what they came for.”
“Likely the Council is the focus of this attack,” Maetok agreed.
Udina’s shoulders slumped in his expensive suit for a moment. “Fine.”
Bau nodded. “If you two and the guards are looking after the Councillors here, I will attempt to reach the CSec Headquarters.”
Maetok blinked once, “It is likely the explosion or subsequent attack killed him, Jondam.”
“Indeed, but I must determine whether Valern is alive or dead regardless.”
“Good luck,” Ash told him.
“To you as well, Spectre Williams.”
When he was gone, she turned back to Maetok and Hernandez. “Let’s get our VIPs moving, yeah?”
Hernandez rubbed idly at her arm, “This shit is more fucked up than the goddamn asteroid, boss.”
The terrorist attack on asteroid X57 that Hunter Team had barely foiled in time. Ashley had come out of it with Maetok’s interest, though she hadn’t known it at the time. Hernandez had nearly lost her leg to one of the SIU officers masquerading as a pirate.
“Yeah.”
Footsteps in the doorway. Ashley whirled, raising her rifle - before just as quickly lowering it, relief seeping through her. “Thank God.”
Shepard, familiar in her black and red armour, mouth curling into a smile under her visor. “Looks like I’m just in time.”
“How did you,” Udina began, but Shepard waved a hand.
“The Citadel going silent tipped me off something wasn’t right.”
“I’m so glad to see you,” Ash told her.
“It’s good to see you too, querida.”
That was new - the nickname and the saying it in front of people when they were working.
“New friends?” she nodded to behind Shepard at the fireteam in blue following her. She was somewhat disappointed not to see Liara or even James Vega.
“Something like that,” Shepard said, and smiled.
"This is a goddamned mess," Bailey grumbled.
"Tell me about it," said Gunnery Sergeant King, walking in front of him, Valkyrie rifle raised. Staff Lieutenant MacDonnell had ordered his platoons to advance parallel to each other, King going with one and MacDonnell with the other.
The Marines were alert but not on edge, not like his officers. He guessed Cerberus didn't compare to the Reapers.
"This was supposed to be givin' us time to get reinforcements and a break," one of the Marines grumbled.
"Eyes front, Baumer," King said, almost mechanically.
"Aye, Gunny."
"Do you know where the explosion happened?"
Bailey grimaced. "The cafeteria. Lot of officers on break. Got some reports of...some of our own, all humans, opening fire on survivors. Before the comms were cut."
King shook her head. "I can't understand how someone could bring themselves to do somethin' like that."
"Me neither, Gunny, me neither."
The streets were a deathly quiet, far from the normal hum of traffic and conversations in the offices and bars lining the Presidium. He'd missed the Wards. He missed them more right now.
"You from Earth?" the gunny asked.
"Yeah."
"Me too." She swept her rifle across the gap of a shop's front door. "Wanted to get off it so bad as a kid. That's why I joined the Marines. Thought I'd do my four and get out, work in the colonies. And here I am, still in fifteen years later."
"I was in the Navy," he offered, "before CSec." The Navy had taken his first marriage and given him a deep love of space in return, the kind that had made a planet-bound life unappealing.
"Lemme guess. Master-at-arns."
He chuckled. "Damage controlman, actually. Did my four, then moved into policing."
"You got family on the Citadel?"
No one asked about your family on Earth these days, not even other Earthers. The news wasn't good. His ex-wives, his boys. He didn't know. Maybe he'd never know.
"No. You?"
"My wife," she said quietly, "she works at Huerta."
"Movement up ahead," Baumer called.
King raised her rifle and then -
Staff Lieutenant MacDonnell was standing in the street, with a handful of the other platoon. A skyvan blocked most of the street.
"Sir?" King called uncertainly. "What's going on?"
Bailey already knew. Today was a day of backstabbing. He grabbed at King's shoulder, but she shrugged him off.
"Put your guns down, Marines," MacDonnell ordered - and it was an order, the voice of a man used to being obeyed.
Some of the Marines around him seemed to instinctually obey before King snapped out, "Don't you fuckin' dare."
"Natalie," MacDonnell began.
"Mac, what the fuck are you doing?" she demanded.
He shook his head regretfully, "I can't let you get to the CSec Headquarters. There's more at stake than you know."
"You betrayed the Alliance. You too, Jackson? Fuck!"
"They threw us into hell!" his voice rose into a sudden shout, "The Alliance got most of us killed and for what? Nothing! What has the Alliance done in this war except lose?"
"So your solution was treason? Are you fuckin' kidding me, Mac?"
"Cerberus has a plan, King," his voice turned cajoling, "you can help save Earth. Just help me."
"My wife and unborn child are asari," she said flatly, "and I'm no traitor. Ain't no place for me in the galaxy Cerberus wants."
"I don't want to shoot you, Natalie."
"Fuck you," King shot back and raised her rifle. When she pulled the trigger, it wasn't the crack of the Valkyrie, but a duller sound.
The grenade she'd shot exploded on the hood of the skyvan. The next moment, the van exploded.
Bailey staggered back, raising a hand and the pistol in it as fire tore apart the street. His ears rang, but as they cleared, he could hear screams and the sound of gunfire.
After what felt both like split seconds and far too long, King called out, "Cease fire, cease fire."
Everything in front of them wasn't moving, but they hadn't got off scot free. The cold-eyed sergeant from before was lying in front of Bailey, blood leaking from a hole in his throat and King was bleeding from her arm.
One of the other Marines was crying. King knelt and took one of the sergeant’s tags, leaving the other on his body.
"Let's go get you your headquarters back," King said grimly as she stood, and there was a kind of bleak rage in her gaze when she met Bailey's eyes.
“The fuck,” Shepard said, helmet tucked under her arm and flanked by her XO and MARDET Commander, “is going on?”
Joker raised his hands. “Comms are jammed, ma’am.”
This was supposed to be a drop off - dump the students along with Jack and Sanders at the docks, head back out for a raid Hackett had ordered. Then there had been a decidedly cryptic message from Councillor Valern about treason within the Citadel, and now the Serpent Nebula was chaos - civilian and military ships in disarray, no one with comms, no one knowing what the hell was going on.
She closed her eyes, breathed in and then opened them. “We’ll assume shit is going down. Jaksch, order the Marines to stand to. I was meant to meet Valern at CSec Academy - we’ll head there in the shuttle, armed and armoured. Even if the Councillor isn’t there, it’s the best place to try and secure the situation.”
Whatever the situation was.
“Yes ma’am.” He half-turned, about to contact Vega to have the Marines get their equipment ready, but he stopped. Deadpan, professional, he asked, “Reapers, ma’am?”
“I don’t think so,” she said, just as calmly. If it were the Reapers, their ships would be here. No, with Valern’s warning… “Full combat load, please.”
“Aye, aye. Right away.” Jaksch finished his turn and stepped away. His arm glowed yellow as he opened an intranet line to James.
“Engage stealth systems, X,” she ordered, “you have the ship.”
“I have the ship,” Wulandri echoed.
When she descended from the orderly CIC into the shuttle deck, there was already chaos, courtesy of the lieutenant’s directives to Vega. Cortez and Isanion were prepping the shuttles and the Marines were suiting up.
She headed for her own kit, thinking of the route to go in, who best to rally CSec if her fears were true - trying not to think about Ashley and Thane.
They both know what they’re doing, she reminded herself. But they were just two individuals.
Dressler and Watts were hauling their armour on swiftly whilst bitching to each other.
“This better not be a fucking drill, man,” Dressler said to his friend.
“I doubt it,” Watts replied, glumly. “I was looking forward to some shore leave.”
“We weren’t going to get five minutes off the ship, mate.”
Shepard tightened the straps of her armour before glancing over at Jaksch, “Mind if we check each other, Lieutenant?”
On the SR1, she and Ashley had always checked each other’s armour, and these days usually Garrus did, but this was her first time really going into combat with her new MARDET commander. She wanted to gauge him.
“Good idea, Captain.” He looked down and tightened the straps on his own webbing with two sharp pulls. “Just need my ammo. Ready.” He lifted his arms to give Emilia the opportunity and space to examine his armour.
She tugged a few times to ensure his straps were tight enough and then gave him a nod. “I’m thinking one squad in the Kodiak with me to go in first, establish what the situation is, the other two in the Sanctius. I’d like you with the Sanctius, Vega with me.”
“Yes ma’am.” He did his own check. The two were experienced enough that they didn’t make many mistakes when putting their armour on and Jaksch’s practiced eye turned up no flaws. “You’re good. In terms of objectives, ma’am, are we going to attempt to secure the Council?”
“Most of the Council should be secured by their guards, but Valern is vulnerable. We’ll secure him and CSec headquarters. Suggestions on which squad to take?”
She liked Hohepa, but by necessity she couldn’t pay the same attention to the Marine Detachment as Jaksch and Vega did. If that squad was too fatigued or too attrited, she’d take another.
After a moment of consideration, he answered. “You should take Third Squad. Corporal Li definitely can’t be deployed, and I might need to have Watts sit it out too - I’ll assess when I load them up. Third Squad is the only one at full strength. If you’re going to be first out, you’ll need as many boots on the ground as you can get.”
Shepard hummed thoughtfully, gave a quick glance to make sure none of the enlisted Marines were close by and said, “Attar’s a bit green.”
Sergeant Attar was not a bad Marine, but he was new to his sergeant’s stripes.
Jaksch shook his head from side to side, as if chewing on something. “Aye ma’am,” he said cooly. “Attar is. But he earned the chevrons as much as O’Neal and Hohepa did. In my view, it would be a good idea to have Vega keep him on a tight leash - I’m worried he’ll want to try and prove himself to you.” He smirked. “Curse of the War Hero.”
She sighed but then smiled. “Indeed. Alright, let the sergeants know.”
He nodded and again whisked himself away to complete his task. He quickly found Hohepa and led her over to Attar before the three of them found a secluded corner amongst the chaos and beckoned O’Neal over. As they spoke, Jaksch did a final check on their equipment, just as he had with Shepard.
“We’re five mikes out from the launch, Captain,” Joker said over her comm.
“Copy that.” She caught Jaksch’s attention and held up five fingers. It was time to load up. She nodded to Cortez as she stepped into the Kodiak and settled next to Garrus who gave her a nod.
“You’re thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Yes,” he said grimly, “every channel being jammed like this…I can’t get through to my CSec contacts on emergency channels.”
“Be ready.”
“Always.”
The Marines started piling in. Vega settled his bulk across from Shepard.
Jaksch came up to the door of the Kodiak with Attar. “Remember, Sergeant. Keep your head on tight, there’ll be humans and civilians on the station. No funny business - and bring everyone home.”
Attar was no rookie. He’d experienced combat before and he’d been a good Corporal, but the look on his face showed that he was keen to lead his squad, especially directly under Shepard. “Yes sir,” he said smartly. He gave a quick salute to Jaksch, who promptly returned it.
As he stepped away from the door, Jaksch pushed Attar in. “Good luck, Marines!” He shouted to the assembled squad. “Make us proud!”
“Aye sir,” Westmoreland said before the door slid shut.
“Suck up,” PFC Campbell declared, grinning when her friend roughly shoved her.
“Good to have you with me, Sergeant,” Shepard said, ignoring the banter in favour of fixing eyes with the sergeant.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Attar replied, finding a seat opposite her and belting himself in. “I’m pleased that you picked third squad to go with you. We’ve been waiting for the opportunity to show you what we can do.”
One of his Corporal’s, Grieve, with a thick Scottish accent, affirmed his words. “We’re primed and ready, ma’am. Tip of the spear.”
“Good to hear. We’re going in pretty blind, so everyone on their best behaviour. This is a city - there’s going to be civilians so no itchy trigger fingers, copy?”
“Aye, aye.” Attar wasted no time in giving orders. “Grieve, you and your team are first out of the door, understood? Zhu, I also want your machinegun up before the Captain debarks. Nobody is to engage unless I give the order, or you can identify a weapon shooting at you.”
The Marines acknowledged, though Campbell looked a bit put out. Bit…eager, that one.
Her comm buzzed in her ear. Not the radio but a personal call over an emergency line. A line only a few people had. After a moment, she lifted her hand and answered.
Thane.
As soon as she hung up, she gritted her teeth against the urge to start swearing her head off spectacularly. “Netcall, Ranger Actual. Cerberus presence confirmed. Looks like an attempt at a decapitation strike. Enemy strength estimated at battalion strength with armoured and gunship support. Over.”
Ashley.
Ashley, on her way to protect the other Councillors. Ashley, in the way of an entire Cerberus force. She breathed out. Stick to the plan. Valern remained the most vulnerable and securing CSec HQ remained the best way to start fighting back.
At the news that Cerberus was confirmed on the Citadel, the Marines sharpened.
"Fucking traitors," Grieve spat.
Zhu looked over to him, face set in a hard line. "We'll kill 'em all."
"Don't lose your cool before we've even touched down," Sergeant Attar warned. Obviously trying to appear firm, like he had a good handle on his Marines, in front of Shepard.
"Aye Sarn’t.”
Across from Shepard, Garrus met her gaze, cool blue eyes under his visor and mandibles held tight to his face.
“Five mikes out!” Cortez called back from the cockpit.
Shepard stood, the shuttle rattling around her. Through the camera feeds, snippets of the Presidium flashing past, stained with pillars of black smoke. They’d come full circle.
The Marines were silent as they watched the feeds. It wasn't Earth or a Systems Alliance colony, but they'd had shore leave here. They all knew the Presidium. It was supposed to be safe.
The shuttle door slid open even as Cortez twisted the Kodiak into a hover. It opened into chaos. The landing pads had turned into a battlefield, the air thick with flashes of gunfire and the smell of blood and smoke.
Shepard took a quick stock of the deteriorating situation. A small group of CSec officers were holed up at the top of the stairs leading to the Academy’s lower floors, but they were surrounded by Cerberus troops with machineguns, turrets and even a mech.
Some of the troopers were in Alliance-blue armour, Cerberus patches slapped on.
“Move, move, move!”
Codex Entry
The Alliance Tower:
The Alliance Tower is the main Systems Alliance base on the Citadel, including headquarters for the garrison of Marines and naval personnel, docking facilities and barracks. It consists of a tower building on the Presidium, close to Tayseri Ward and attached docking bays. A large portion of the lower half of the tower is dedicated to administration and space traffic control.
The Tower includes command and control for a naval intelligence unit, the Alliance component of the Citadel Defence Force, Joint Operations Command-Citadel Space and, allegedly, the AIA.
Less secure parts of the tower include recreational areas such as sims, a gym, a swimming pool and even a bar, along with the mess hall and ward room for meals.
Since the destruction of Arcturus Station, the Alliance Tower has taken on a larger role in administration of the Alliance Navy.
Chapter 28: Querida
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“We need to move the Councillors,” Ash said, tearing her eyes away from Shepard’s form. There were times that Ash thought she could just take Emilia in forever, but now wasn’t one of those times.
“Agreed,” Maetok replied, “Good to finally meet you, Spectre Shepard.”
“Same,” Shepard said, gesturing for her squad to spread out and take positions. Ashley knelt at the top of the stairs, pushing away the feeling of deja vu and bracing her rifle.
“What’s Cerberus trying to accomplish with this?” Ash said, half to herself.
“That is the question,” Shepard murmured. She kept shifting from foot to foot, tapping her fingers against her armoured thigh, eyes darting around the room.
Ash tilted her head at her, a question in her eyes, but Shepard just looked away.
Okay then. They’d talk about it later, apparently.
“I will take the councillors,” Maetok said, “if you will set up the perimeter, Agent Shepard, Agent Williams.” Her dark, liquid eyes were fixed on Shepard. Ash had never found Maetok easy to read, but there was an intentness in the way she was studying Shepard.
“Hmm,” Shepard tilted her head, lips curving. “I don’t think so.”
Maetok blinked. “Excuse me?”
The air split with a familiar, brassy thunderclap, and then -
Shepard was standing beside the salarian Spectre, her fist punched through ceramic plating and ballistic weave, flesh and bone. Saen Maetok choked, green blood dribbling down her chin, and then Shepard ripped her arm free. Maetok fell to the ground and didn’t move again.
For a moment everything was frozen. Ice was in Ashley’s lungs.
No. A dozen thoughts ran through her head, clashing. I trusted you. You lied to me. What did they do to you?
Gunfire erupted.
In such close quarters, it was brutal. One guard was cut down instantly, another went down screaming and clutching his chest. He tried to get up, but they shot him again until he was still. Hernandez managed to scramble for cover behind a planter, dragging Ebner and Councillor Tevos with her.
Years of combat experience and training propelled Ash forward, almost on autopilot. She threw herself forward, slamming into Udina and sending them both sprawling behind the cover of the planters.
“She killed Spectre Maetok,” Udina stammered, “she’s with them-”
Rote, muscle memory. She rose to take a knee, raised her rifle, found a target, squeezed the trigger. One blue-armoured figure’s shields broke and he staggered back, trying to reach cover, but she pulled the trigger again and his visor shattered in a spray of blood.
Shepard was standing over one of the turian guards, blue blood leaking from wounds to his legs. She pressed the barrel of her shotgun to his chest and pulled the trigger.
She looked up and their eyes met.
A long time ago, Shepard had taught her how to fight a vanguard biotic.
“You’re a sniper,” Shepard said, straight-backed in the dim light of the SR1’s hold one night cycle. “Make use of that if you can. You don’t want to get in close quarters with me.”
Ash bit back a comment that that was exactly what she wanted. Her reward was Shepard stepping closer, close enough to watch the blue sheen taking over Shepard’s irises as she flared. One hand landed gently over her collarbone, biotic corona buzzing where it met skin.
“This is the worst case scenario,” Shepard murmured, “but I don’t think I need to tell you of all people not to give up.”
“Calling me stubborn, skipper?” she was pretty proud of her voice remaining steady. She wondered if Shepard could feel her heartbeat thundering where her thumb was pressed.
“Determined,” the corner of Shepard’s mouth twitched. “Play dirty.”
“I can do that.” She couldn’t help the flicker of a smirk that crossed her face.
Shepard paused before she said, “Tech grenades, make them hurt, go for the amp if they’re not wearing a helmet. Break their concentration.”
“I should get firecrackers then,” Ash said dryly.
Shepard frowned instead of the slight smile she usually got when Ash joked around. “Please take this seriously. It could save your life one day.”
“I’m paying attention,” Ashley said. I always pay attention to you.
“This isn’t you!” Ash shouted, over the gunfire, “whatever they’ve done to you - we can fix it. Even a control chip-”
“Drop the gun, Ashley,” Shepard said.
“You know I can’t do that.”
That long ago lesson. Keep distance, use your rifle. But if she ran, the Councillors died, and if there was one thing Ashley Williams understood, deep in her bones, it was duty. She stepped in front of Udina instead.
Shepard glowed painfully bright.
The impact was brutal, driving all the air from Ash’s lungs like a sledgehammer, snapping the Saber in half like a twig as she raised it in front of her in a vain attempt to protect her chest - she gasped for breath and clutched at Shepard’s red-streaked arm, the hand grabbing her by the front of her webbing. Her broken rifle fell to the ground in a clatter of metal.
“Wrong answer,” Shepard said, their visors almost touching in a mockery of every time she’d kissed her.
Ash grabbed for her belt and the oblong object there - pushed it between them even as she pressed the button on the top. It went off in a sheet of electricity. Her omnitool, linked to her clip on barrier, blared an alarm at her as her shields shorted out - but Shepard-
Shepard screamed, grabbing at her head as her amp short-circuited. She slumped to her knees and Ash backed up, pulled out her pistol.
Raised it.
Shepard lifted her head. Their eyes met. “You going to shoot me, Ashley?”
The answer must have been written all over her face because Shepard smiled, a cruel, mocking smile.
Kill or be killed, fight or surrender-
She turned and ran. Ran to Udina and Tevos, still on the ground, confused and upset. Hauled them up by their arms. Beside her, Hernandez was doing the same to Sparatus.
“Run!” she shouted.
“Sir,” Hohepa said carefully, pitching her voice so her Marines couldn’t overhear, “are you sure we’re going the right way?”
She was sweating under her armour. Everywhere they’d turned since they’d landed at the relative safety of the Alliance Tower, they’d run into the enemy. She itched, thinking of Third Squad and the captain, at the Headquarters without them. They were getting bogged down right when they needed to be the opposite of that.
"Don't question me, Sergeant," Jaksch snapped. He was also fatigued and clearly stressed. Then, with more composure and with conviction, he affirmed. "We're going the right way."
“Yessir. I’m just - concerned about the amount of heatsinks we’ve already used. It’s gonna be hard for one of the shuttles to resupply us.”
"We can raid the headquarters armoury when we arrive," he said dismissively.
Up ahead, on point with Klein, Dressler shouted back. "Contact."
Jaksch swore under his breath as the Marines found cover and the lead fireteam again engaged the enemy.
Hohepa let out a few choice words of her own and snapped the muzzle of her rifle up, finding cover in a store front. Shattered glass crunched underneath her boots. She fired a few shots in the direction of the enemy - flashes of white and grey up the street.
“Liao!” she shouted, “get that MG up!”
“It’s jammed!” the lance corporal called back, frustrated, but her hands were steady and smooth as she pulled the ejection lever to try and unjam it.
"They're breaking contact!" Klein said into his radio.
Jaksch bolted up from his own cover. "Follow them! Hurry, on your feet!"
“Sir, I think we should take advantage to break contact and try to reach the captain,” Hohepa said to him, jogging to catch up even as her squad scrambled up. Killing the troopers wasn’t their objective - reaching the headquarters and their commanding officer was.
"Negative," Jaksch replied, breathless. "They could be capturing and killing civilians. It won't take long to deal with them, and then we can hook up with Third Squad."
“Roger that, sir.”
Second Squad dashed after the enemy, Alpha Team leading the way. With Corporal Li confined to the Normandy with her injuries, Klein was on point and acting fire team leader. Hohepa followed behind them, putting a new heatsink into her Valkyrie, Bravo and Corporal Schaper taking up the rear.
Li and Watts had been decidedly unhappy to be left behind but Chakwas’ word was law. Hohepa was no fool. You didn’t piss off the woman who stitched you and your guys back together.
“Watch your corners!” she called. Cities always sucked to fight in. Civilians to get in the crossfire, every window a potential firing position.
"Aye, aye!" Medeiros was stalking forward carefully but quickly. Her weapon crossed each and every gap, crevice, and hole that an enemy could be lurking in.
The Marines were clearly uneasy. Comms with other friendly forces on the Citadel were as good as dead. They had no idea where allied units might be, or enemy units for that matter, and here they were chasing a fireteam blindly through the streets.
Hohepa didn’t like it. She really didn’t like it.
She liked it even less when a rocket tore out of a nearby storefront, impacting mere metres from Alpha Fireteam, her HUD pinging the whole team losing their shields in an instant.
“Ambush left!” she shouted, “ambush-”
A machine gun opened up.
"Jesus H Christ!" That was Dressler's voice on the radio, his cursing broken only by gunfire and coughing.
With panic bleeding through, Medeiros cut over the top of him. "Klein's down, I'm going to try -"
"That's gotta be platoon strength at least, we need to back the fuck up!" Dressler again, getting a hold of his own voice. "Meddy! Out of the goddamn road!"
"Klein's down!"
"Bravo, get up there and support them!" Jaksch sounded angry. Klein may have been bleeding out in the street, or already dead for all they knew.
Goddamnit. God-fucking-damnit. Hohepa fired into the shopfront. “Meideros! Shoot the fuck back!”
Her rifle at least began chattering back in the same direction the fire was coming from, and she began to mutter a string of curses in Portuguese before someone cut her mic.
Corporal Schaper caught himself flinching with a German curse when the deadly rattle of the machine gun made him fall immediately against the wall, rifle at the ready.
He watched fellow Marines crawl for safety into nooks and crannies, incoming fire slamming all around.
As if everything slowed down, and in spite of the startling feeling of powerlessness in his guts, the Marine saw himself rise. His fellow German was bleeding out in the street and the shouting in his headset whispered at him to act, and fast.
Motherfuckers shot Klein. Fucking butterbar.
Fighting a cry of rage, Schaper returned a couple of bursts. On instinct, he reached out for a rifle grenade, inserting it without looking, like a tennisman preparing his serve with eyes only for his target.
Supple strides, carefree but precise aim; Schaper popped up in a corner, stepping over Klein's limp arm peeking just about. He forced himself not to look, careful for incoming fire whizzing past.
"Hit the fucking deck!"
In a thump, the airburst slug landed right between the Cerberus gunners. The blast snapping their heads into mush inside their helmets, killing them instantly.
But he wasn't done. As a trooper peeked from cover, he pounced. Another burst of bullets slammed into the Cerbie, leaving her in a bloodied heap against the wall.
Schaper's eyes never left his sights as he slammed another grenade home. Another thump, more screaming from the troopers finally faltering.
He fired again with fury, catching one running, finishing him off in the back, pressing his trigger as often as he could until the bastard stopped twitching. His own fire drowning anything else.
Suddenly a hand caught his shoulder, yanking him back.
“Stop trying to get shot, Corporal,” Hohepa growled before letting him go to fire into the storefront.
It didn’t escape Schaper’s notice that his one man army act had slackened the fire considerably.
“Push them!” Hohepa shouted.
The Marines obeyed, pushing forward through debris and wreckage, firing with fury.
The break in enemy contact allowed Dressler to toss his rifle to one side and pull Klein into cover. Dressler removed Klein's helmet and started to also unstrap his armour. The ceramic was cracked and blood was seeping through large wounds.
Dressler's hands were a blur. He smeared medigel and packed wounds with gauze, trying to stop the blood. He started looking for a pulse, fear evident on his face when he couldn't find one. "No, no, no, no…"
He started chest compressions. Genemodded arms and bulky armour caused popping sounds as Dressler cracked Klein's ribs with each stroke. "C'mon Georg, come back you son of a bitch!"
Schaper, occasionally peeking out to angrily discharge at the Cerbies, stared down at the Dressler where he hunched over, his rhythmic pushing shaking Klein's body. Klein’s face looked oddly peaceful, green eyes open and staring. Schaper's hands, however, were trembling.
Gunfire echoed in Garrus Vakarian’s ears. The moment the Normandy ground team had leapt out of the shuttle, Cerberus had begun firing on them. Now they were scattered across the skycar landing pad, using patrol cars as cover.
“What a friendly welcome,” he remarked sarcastically to Sergeant Attar beside him, pulling the trigger of his rifle and sending a round dashing off a Cerberus trooper’s shields.
"We should have left you on the ship," Attar grinned, sounding awfully cheery for a man in a firefight. He finished the trooper off with a burst of his own. "They're only shooting at us because you're turian."
“That does sound like Cerberus.”
Underneath the flippancy, there was a familiar hot ball of rage in his gut. He’d worked here. He still knew people here. Good people.
Shepard might have dibs on the Illusive Man, but he would insist on helping.
“Attar!” Shepard dashed across the small gap between the skycar she’d been sheltering behind and the one the two men were behind. Gunfire impacted the metallic flooring behind her. “We need to put more pressure on them. Just gonna keep to the basics - one fireteam on suppression, one with me.”
She was going to do the charging headfirst into enemies thing again, wasn’t she? Garrus flicked his mandibles at her reproachfully.
Shepard, of course, ignored him completely.
Attar knocked the side of his helmet with one of his armoured gauntlets. "Aye ma'am." He turned on his heel, looking for one of his Corporals.
"Grieve," he shouted over the net.
A blue-helmeted head swung in his direction.
"Have Westmoreland suppress their position until Janssen can push up! Then have her with Mouse - when they've moved up, they're our base of fire. You follow the Captain!"
Grieve gave a sharp nod and flicked his rifle to full auto. He raised it and opened fire as Westmoreland repositioned the barrel of her weapon. Janssen had heard the order too and was already preparing Bravo to dart forward.
“Garrus, tech grenades, please,” Shepard called.
“The things I do for you,” he mock-sighed before he fired out the tech grenade. The overload field went off, sheeting over the Cerberus officer directing the troopers.
“Let’s go!” Shepard called and darted forward, biotics swirling around her in a bubble of energy that covered her and the assaulting fireteam.
With weakening shields, an angry Marine squad, and two machineguns, the Cerberus attack withered. The officer managed to dive into cover, away from the fire, but two troopers were cut down under the pressure.
Grieve was a madman as he ran forward, his rifle stopping only when a new heatsink was inserted.
“Grenades!” Shepard shouted. The return fire was weakening but each hit slammed into her barrier like a hammer blow.
In a single fluid motion, Grieve tilted his rifle, loaded a grenade round into the underslung launcher and held it in a cant. "Soup, suppress!" he shouted, "Rest of you, grenades over the cover, nice clean arc!"
The two Marines pulled frags out of their webbing as Shepard and PFC Campbell kept shooting into the Cerberus position, forcing them to keep their heads down - joined by fire from the CSec position.
Then Sofer and Kumar were tossing grenades over the skycar the troopers were using as cover. They went off with dull thumps, the whistle of shrapnel - and then screams. One trooper made a run for it, darting away. Grieve's launcher was ready.
At this distance, it was closing in on the minimum range of the rifle grenade, he waited a moment as the Cerberus trooper fled before a thunk pushed the grenade out, squarely into the trooper's back. The shrapnel and the concussive blast blew a shower of gore in the opposite direction.
"Good work team!" Grieve called. "Keep pushing!"
The Marines’ charge had turned the tide. The gunfire tapered off and Shepard broke cover, jogging towards the mix of CSec and Alliance Marines near the doors. Garrus followed, searching the officers’ faces for people he knew. No one he’d worked with, but Captain Bailey was there, leaning heavily against the wall, blood leaking down his side.
“Captain,” Shepard said. “What’s the situation?”
Attar followed, and Bravo team joined them. "Form a perimeter," Attar ordered. "Eyes out and guns up."
The squad obeyed. They took up positions around the surviviors. Attar took a knee, resting behind Shepard but facing the same direction as his squad.
“Tryin’ to retake the headquarters,” he gasped, “got ambushed and then these fuckers tried to finish me off.”
“Some of them were wearing Alliance armour,” Westmoreland observed.
“Traitors,” one of the other Marines said.
Shepard raised an eyebrow. “Name and rank.”
“Gunnery Sergeant Natalie King, ma’am. The garrison is…compromised.”
Attar turned around, standing. "Compromised, Gunny? Your Company?"
King scowled. “Yeah. Shot my company commander an hour ago.”
“Gunny King and her Marines are the only reason we made it this far,” Bailey said.
"My condolences, then." Attar sounded genuine, but news that some of Marines might be compromised seemed to shake him.
“CSec too,” Bailey said grimly, “pretty sure that’s who planted the bomb. Fucking psychos.”
"We'll need to be on the lookout for anyone human, then. We can't trust anyone - even if they're wearing our uniforms." Attar looked sullen. "I'll tell my squad."
“Good idea,” Shepard sounded very tired all of a sudden, “if we push in, can you get on comms?”
“That’s the plan,” Bailey replied. “I’m not down for the count yet.”
She nodded. “Attar, stack up.”
"Roger, Captain."
Attar gave orders to his squad, this time having Janssen's team take the lead. The Gunnery Sergeant's Marines took positions in amongst their squad, neatly lining the door to breach.
"Set, Sergeant!" Janssen called out.
"On your word, ma'am."
“Go, go, go!”
When the Marines burst into the reception area of the headquarters, they were met by the stench of smoke and blood, the walls riddled with bullets - the limp form of a uniformed officer slumped over the desk.
A Cerberus squad was waiting for them and gunfire greeted them.
"Return fire!" Attar shouted over the net.
Two shots cracked into Janssen's shields, and he dived behind a pillar. "Zhu, open up!"
His machinegunner threw himself onto his stomach, exposed to the gunfire, but with his weapon chattering noisily away.
"Cover him!" Attar shouted, "Suppress!"
“Liara,” Shepard called, and the asari ripped open the gravity well, pulling four troopers into the air. Shepard hit it with an opposing field a moment later, ripping them apart. The others were quickly shot down as they recoiled.
"Thank God for biotics," quipped Grieve.
"Thank the aerospace industry you mean," Zhu replied. He carefully stood, and the Marines pushed forward, beginning the careful dance of clearing any dead spaces.
“We need Kovalenko up here, sir,” Hohepa called to Jaksch. The corpsman was with First Squad, advancing parallel to them, “Fuck it, sir, we need First here to hold the perimeter.”
Jaksch nodded. "Agreed," he flicked his radio. "Ranger One this is Ranger Five! Break contact immediately, retreat and come up through our rear - Second is getting slaughtered!"
“Lemme know if you need to switch out,” Hohepa told Dressler. CPR was hard work, even for fit, genemodded Marines.
“Five, this is One. Roger that! Be advised, I have two seriously wounded and had to casevac them. The rest of us are on the way, over.” O’Neal’s normally calm voice was tense.
"Shit," Jaksch looked at Hohepa. "One, Five, understood. Move quick, out." When he turned the radio off, he addressed Hohepa. "We have to get the fuck out of here, we'll buckle under this pressure."
“Agreed, sir,” Hohepa said, “I say we fall back towards the Tower. Can we get in contact with the garrison for assistance? Or at least a casevac?”
Jaksch brightened at that. "Good idea." He fiddled with his omnitool and then his radio clicked again. "Halberd, this is Ranger, we have multiple casualties and facing heavy contact! We need support and a casevac, how copy? Over!"
“Ranger, Halberd copies,” a cool, Malaysian-accented voice came over the radio, “I have a platoon that can try and reach your position and a medevac shuttle. What is your location, and size of enemy contact, over?”
"Thank God. Halberd, Ranger. We estimate enemy contact as Platoon or Company strength - wait one." He looked around for a landmark. "Halberd, Ranger, we're just beside Ariake Tech headquarters building, on the Presidium."
“Copy that, Ranger. Ariake-Tech HQ. Halberd 31 will step off ASAP - ETA fifteen mikes. Dust Off 67 can be there in five - is the LZ secure, over?”
"Fifteen minutes…" Jaksch tilted his head to the side as the gunfire cracked overhead. "Negative, Halberd, LZ is hot. We'll try and clear a spot! We'll await exfil, over!"
“Roger. We have no birds available to escort Dust Off - you’ll have to hang on until Halberd 31 reaches you, over.”
"Thanks Halberd, you're a lifesaver. Ranger out." He switched back to the Platoon net. "All Ranger callsigns, be advised, casevac is five mikes out and reinforcements fifteen mikes."”
Footsteps came around the corner - First Squad, minus two members and plus one corspman - moving in bounding overwatch until Sergeant O’Neal was throwing herself into cover beside Hohepa and Jaksch.
“Sir-” her eyes slid past him to Klein on the ground, Dressler doing compressions. “Fuck.”
Kovalenko didn’t hesitate, she ran to the fallen Marine, bringing her omnitool medscanner up. “Keep going, Dress.”
"I'm fuckin' glad to see you Doc." Dressler grunted between compressions. "Multiple GSWs. I've tried to stop bleeding, but I couldn't find a pulse."
Corporal Schaper's head tilted down. The rim of his helmet hiding his eyes. But in an anguished rictus, the old vet just knew.
Jaksch ignored Klein and his treatment, addressing O'Neal. "We have a platoon coming in from the Tower, Halberd 31. We need to make a space for a hot extract of our casualties. Get your squad up there and relieve the pressure from Second. As soon as casevac has dusted off, we're getting the fuck out and we'll hook up with Halberd." He looked between Hohepa and O'Neal. "Oorah?"
“Oorah,” O’Neal said, without a smile, waving her now six man squad forward.
Kovalenka swore as her medscanner announced, “No shockable rhythm detected.”
“Suka! I’m gonna run an IV, keep going until you can’t Dressler!”
“Someone grab Klein’s machinegun,” Hohepa called.
"Roger Sarge!" Adamsen came running back, keeping his head down. He fumbled in Dressler's webbing for spare sinks, retrieved Klein's weapon, and went straight back to the front. With another machinegun on their side, the Cerberus forces were having even more trouble getting shots at the Marines and their firing slowed. They weren't beaten yet, though.
That, of course, was when things started getting worse again.
First was the call over the radio.
“Ranger, this is Halberd 31, over.”
"Halberd, Ranger, send traffic, over."
“We have run into enemy contacts and will be delayed, over.”
Jaksch swore for a solid thirty seconds. "Roger Halberd. Contact again when you've managed to move on - we need the help. Good luck and God speed."
“Roger that. Hang on. Halberd out.”
Another minute and a shuttle came screaming along the street, pulling up abruptly and landing, heavily in the street that the Marines had managed to clear for an LZ. As soon as the door slid open, two Navy corpsman were surging out, one with a stretcher.
“Where’s the casualty?” One yelled, not even ducking as a few tracers flew overhead.
Schaper's hand landed on Dressler, as he scanned down the street with his rifle. "Dressler." The young Marine had done all he could.
Dressler allowed Schaper to pull him back as Kovalenko and the other Corpsmen tended to Klein. "Fuck, Corporal," he said, falling onto his rear. Dressler reached for his rifle and rested his sore arms. "Klein- Georg's dead.".”
"I know..." Schaper did all he could so the ball of anguish in his throat wouldn't jump out, keeping tense and alert."Stay with me Dressler." The corporal didn't remove his hand.
The shuttle lifted off. Hohepa watched it go, with the grim feeling that more of them might join Klein if they didn’t get out of here soon.
The radio buzzed. Shepard’s voice. “Ranger Five, Ranger Six. We have secured the bottom floor of the target building,” CSec, “and are pushing on to search the other floors for our VIP. CSec is working on resolving comms issues. What is your ETA, over?”
Hohepa didn’t envy Jaksch needing to tell their CO what position they were in - and that Klein was dead.
Jaksch seemed to also realise the gravity of the situation. "Ranger Six, Ranger Five." He paused. "We've taken heavy contacts - multiple casualties. We're under heavy fire and will attempt to break contact. Unable to confirm ETA, over."
There was a pause. “We cannot deviate to assist currently. Little Bird can be tasked to provide air support, however. Over.”
Jaksch pondered a moment. "Ranger Six, Five. Negative, negative. We are breaking contact imminently and have Halberd assets en route to assist. Once we link up, we'll push through to your location, over."
“Sir, Cortez could cover our retreat,” Hohepa spoke up.
"By the time he gets here, I intend for us to be long gone. Get your squad ready to move - and tell O'Neal too, I'll give the order when I'm done with the Captain."
“Roger that, sir.” Hohepa moved back to her squad. “Be ready to move soon. Meddy - you alright?”
"In one piece, Sergeant." She looked tired though, and her face was twisted in anger. "I'm running low on sinks."
Dressler had just joined them, a similar expression plastered beneath the visor. Schaper loomed right behind.
He grabbed four spares from his webbing ans handed them across. "Here," he said breathlessly. "I took some extras from Klein. Adamsen has the rest."
“Fucking Cerberus. We’ll make them pay for this.” Losing Beaumont had been sad but Georg Klein? He’d been one of her kids. She was going to kill a fucker over it. “O’Neil! Boss says we’re moving soon, be ready.”
“Wilco,” was all the other sergeant called back.
"We shoulda got the fuck outta this meat grinder the moment we got in it," Dressler muttered bitterly, lining a shape up in his rifle sights. Medeiros hummed in approval.
"Let's focus on getting out. Plenty of 40 mike mikes left here." Schaper affirmed, over his own weapon spitting lead.
After a few more moments, Jaksch came back on the Platoon net.
"Ranger One, Ranger Two, this is Ranger Five." His voice was breathless. "Be advised - we are breaking contact. Ranger Two, Pop smoke and suppress. Ranger One is lead squad. Move when ready, over."
“Ranger One stepping off,” O’Neal announced. Hohepa’s squad stayed in place, watching the perimeter and exchanging the odd shot with Cerberus when they probed the platoon’s reactions again.
Unfortunately, things got worse again when they heard the retort of gunfire in the directions First had gone, and then O’Neal’s voice over the radio. “One is in heavy contact! We can’t withdraw this way! Over!”
They were surrounded, Hohepa realised.
"Shit," Jaksch had forgotten to key his mic. Ranger One, hold that line. Ranger Two, try and break right, over."
“We can’t! Fuckers are everywhere - shit-”
Despite the concerning situation, Jaksch's voice was still cool coming over the radio. "Ranger One, pull back if you need to, I'm going to coordinate a breakout with Ranger Two - out."
“We’re pulling back! One out!”
Jaksch sprinted over to Hohepa. "O'Neal can't do anything that way, we need some other way out. What can you do?"
For a moment Hohepa stared at him, adrenaline pounding, ears ringing. Then she took two deep breaths to slow her heart rate. “Sir, we need to find where they’re weakest and push together, hit them hard and fast. Meddy still has rockets.”
"Good idea. Let's consolidate and probe." He went back to the radio. “Ranger One, this is Ranger Five. Leave a machingunner and an AMG there and bring the rest of your squad back, we're going to try a breakthrough attack, over."
“We’re all coming back. Anyone I leave there will be overrun. Over.”
One didn’t take long to return. Two of the Marines were carrying O’Neal, bleeding from a wound to the neck. Kovalenko immediately went to work.
Jaksch gave a glance of concern, but dismissed it. "If we stay here any longer, we're all going to die," he said matter-of-factly. "Hohepa, you're down to half strength, so I want you moving your squad as a fireteam.” He looked over at First, looking for who was now in charge. “...Hakim, that leaves your two. We'll each take one team and probe different areas - quickly. Wherever we think is weakest, we'll concentrate the platoon and try to break out. Understood?"
Unconventional, a Staff Lieutenant taking charge of a fireteam, but with mounting losses and no Platoon Sergeant, it might be necessary.
"Questions?"
“None, sir,” Hohepa said.
The air reverberated with the awfully familiar sounds of mechanical movement and the firing of thrusters. Any hope of friendlies was dashed when a white painted Mantis appeared above, rocket pods pointed at them - and down the street, two mechs.
“Meddy,” she began but there was no way Meideros would get off a rocket on three targets before they got blown apart-
A loudspeaker emanated from the Mantis, hovering but not firing, “Alliance soldiers, we have you surrounded. Lay down your weapons and you will not be harmed.”
One of the Marines shouted back. "Fuck you, Cerbie fuck!"
"Belay that!" Jaksch was angry, but he considered the options nonetheless. "Two thirds of a Marine Platoon with no dedicated AA and only one launcher." He looked at his sergeants. "We'll be cut down before we kill another trooper."
He was right but Hohepa hated it with every inch of her being. She looked over at her Marines, her guys. Meddy and Schaper and Dressler, Adamsen and Liao.
She couldn’t sacrifice them for pride.
“The things I’ve heard,” Hohepa said, “death might be preferable.”
Jaksch shook his head. "Death is guaranteed if we fight, Hohepa." He echoed Hohepa's thoughts. "We can't throw the lives of our Marines away based on rumours."
Jaksch stood up, holding his rifle in one arm, and holding the other above his head, at the gunship. "Don't shoot! We're coming out!"
Schaper stood quietly, fist shaking around the pistol grip of his rifle. "Rumors don't shoot your buddies dead." He muttered dangerously low.
Jaksch turned his head in the Corporal's direction. "If you have a plan, Corporal, then I'm all ears, but from where I'm standing, if you don't want to lose anymore buddies today, we only have one option."
"What says they won't fucking shoot us in the back?" Schaper snapped back. A genuine chill ran down her back. If the dead civilians around weren't enough, Cerberus wasn’t known to eschew cold blooded murder.
"We're human," Jaksch replied, his expression hard as steel. "They wouldn't kill us for no reason."
“We stay here, we definitely die,” Hohepa said quietly.
“Come out without any weapons,” the gunship’s loudspeaker called.
"Don't shoot!"
As Jaksch took a first step forward, a rocket slammed into the side of the gunship. One of the stabilisers tore away, sending the Mantis into a deadly spin.
Both the Marines and Cerberus were stunned. Gunfire broke out to the rear - it was incoming, but was falling short. Someone else was attacking the enemy.
Jaksch dove back into cover. "Belay the surrender! Medeiros, rocket onto the mechs!"
She hadn't waited for an order. With Dressler staring over her shoulder, she called "Backblast clear, fire in the hole!" and destroyed one of the mechs down the street.
“Fuck you, Cerberus,” Liao shouted, and, bracing her Typhoon against the shopfront’s broken window sill, started shooting in controlled bursts at the Cerberus position. “That’s for Georg, you fuckers!”
Too happy to oblige, Schaper had already sent a rifle grenade flying into the shop.
Within minutes, the Cerberus position, caught in the crossfire, was overrun. And then, suddenly, there were turians in the middle of their position. They were wearing hardsuits, some wearing up-armoured stealth suits, and all glowing blue.
A tall turian man, his faceplates the colour of cracked mud slid into cover next to the leadership. He had piercing yellow eyes and orange face paint. "Are you Jaksch?"
"Yes, that's me."
"A pleasure to meet you, Staff Lieutenant. I asked one of your Marines who their leader was. You almost surrendered to a Cerberus position."
"We can't thank you enough, Sir."
"No thanks necessary." He gave an order to one of the other nearby turians and she disappeared in a flash of blue. "I'm Major Titus Scapula - I know what my name means to humans, I've heard it all. I'm Officer Commanding, Adamant Cabal Support Company."
"We're Normandy Marines."
"I was hoping you'd be Halberd." He sounded a bit despondent in his response. "Wait, Normandy? Your CO is a Spectre! You must have an important mission."
He looked back over his soldiers. "We've been liberating CSec positions and rallying survivors. We'll help you complete your objective."
“The Captain wants us to reach CSec Headquarters,” Hohepa said, paused, “There’s an important VIP still there.”
As if summoned, Shepard’’s voice came over the radio. “Ranger Five, sitrep, over.”
"Ranger Six, Ranger Five - enemy attack is broken. We're inbound to your position with friendly Hotel Alpha forces. Will provide an ETA when we are Oscar Mike, over."
Shepard sounded relieved when she replied, “Copy that, Ranger Five. Six out.”
The CSec cafeteria was still and silent, except for the crackle of still burning fires and the crunch of rubble under Shepard’s boots. She’d ordered Attar and the survivors of Gunny King’s unit to hold the perimeter while she, Garrus, Liara and Vega searched the offices for the salarian councillor - or at least his body.
If Jaksch hadn’t been delayed, this would’ve been easier and she could have swept with more people, but it was what it was. Dissecting what had happened could wait for the AARs and debriefs.
“Pallin’s office is up there,” Garrus pointed with a claw, “if they were meeting…”
“Worth a check,” she said. Her hopes for finding survivors weren’t high. Cerberus had been brutally efficient. “Garrus…”
He didn’t quite look at her. “I’m okay, Shepard.” The muzzle of his rifle swung across the gaping mouth of an open office door, blown off its hinges. “We’ll make them pay.”
“We will.”
“These fuckers need to die,” Vega agreed.
She heard something move and she spun, raising her rifle- and snapped it down just as quick as the air hazed and then coalesced into the thin, robed form of Councillor Valern.
“Agent Shepard,” he said, relief in his sharp-edged voice, “Cerberus killed the Executor and my guards.”
“We’ve taken back the headquarters, Councillor,” she told him, “let’s get you out of here.”
“I have evidence of high level officials in the Alliance working with Cerberus. That’s what I wished to speak with you about,” he said.
“Udina?”
“If not him, someone close to him,” Valern said grimly.
“Did you tell Spectre Williams?”
“She’s too close to him.”
Shepard imagined Ash’s expression at being called close to Udina and suppressed a smile. “We should get moving, get you somewhere safe, Councillor.”
“Of course,” there was a ragged edge to his voice. The past couple of hours mustn’t have been easy. Honestly, she was kinda impressed he’d kept himself alive in a building full of hostiles for so long.
Shepard felt the gravity well tear. Familiar and unfamiliar - definitely not Liara. In a few split seconds, instinct kicked in and she drew her barrier around herself and stepped closer to Valern.
“What-” he began.
It felt like a train slamming into her, battering through her barrier and sending her - and the salarian in her grasp - flying. She did her best to soften the impact with her biotics but from the shriek of pain as they impacted the wall, her armoured body had broken something. She leapt to her feet and spun, Valern groaning on the ground behind her.
Three people. Three women, all human, she noted. One in black and red N7 armour, visor opaque, the other two in Marine blue.
Traitors, she decided.
The gravity well twisted again, but this time Shepard was ready. She deflected rather than blocked with her barrier, violent biotic energy surging around her like water past a ship’s bow. The ‘N7’ was the one glowing, so that was the one she retaliated against - ripping a metal table off the ground and sending it smashing into her shoulder.
The woman barely managed to deflect it with her own biotics. She was strong, Shepard could feel it in the way the gravity well twisted around her mnemonics.
Liara, Vega and Garrus were exchanging fire with the other two. Shepard was tempted to charge, deal with the biotic - turn the tide. But she had the feeling they wanted to draw her away from the Councillor.
“Stubborn one, aren’t you?” said one of the women in blue, an almost bored tone to her voice.
“Who the fuck are you?” she snapped.
“Someone who is going to make you irrelevant, Captain,” the woman said, sickly sweet. “Take care of it, won’t you, Eva?”
‘With pleasure,” said the other.
Pain.
Pain that red hazed her vision as her limbs collapsed underneath her. A heavy pressure bore down on her chest. Why couldn’t she move - why couldn’t she-
Someone was shouting her name.
Footsteps, a shadow cast over her by a figure in black and red, shotgun in hand. “I’ve dreamt of this moment.”
A shudder ran down Shepard’s spine. Why was that voice -
A flicker of movement. The ‘N7’ staggered as a biotic-wreathed fist collided with the side of her helmet.
“Another of the menagerie,” the bored-sounding woman said dryly.
Thane Krios didn’t answer. He just flowed into another movement, biotics and body in perfect synchronicity. The woman backpedalled, throwing out a wild strike that Thane darted past. She was much stronger than him in brute force, but Thane was fast and clever.
Shepard tried to rise or roll over or anything, but the only limb that seemed to respond to her was her right arm and the crushing pressure in her chest was getting worse.
Something hooked in her webbing and she tilted her head back to see Garrus above her, dragging her towards cover, his mandibles held tight to his face.
“Garrus,” she gasped, “I can’t-”
Breathe, move, help-
“I’ve got you,” he promised, “I’ve got you, Emilia.” His shields lit up as one of the hostiles shot at him, but he didn’t let go - and then Liara’s biotic barrier was wrapping around them.
“Shepard,” EDI’s voice in her ear, “a hostile AI is hacking your cybernetics. Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” she gasped out. Garrus shot his rifle over her, silhouetted by the cafeteria’s flickering lights.
“I will attempt to fight it off, but I need to-”
“Whatever you need to do. Whatever. Just hurry.”
Thane’s fist impacted with the N7’s visor, and it shattered under his biotics. The woman recoiled, staggering back - and ripping the helmet off.
“What the fuck,” Shepard said.
Her own face scowled back. This time when she and Thane came together in a flurry of blows, the drell was a second too slow. A black-armoured fist, glowing purple, impacted his side with a crunch of breaking bone.
Thane coughed and fell to his knees.
“I have taken back control,” EDI said, but Shepard already knew, because the pain was fading and sensation was flooding back in. All she could feel was rage and fear, mixing together in her stomach until she was almost sick with it.
She pushed herself to her feet, and found her pistol at her hip.
The thing wearing her face had turned to Valern, but one of the hostiles was standing over Thane, pistol in hand. Eva. In the next instant she slammed into Eva, forcing her away from her wounded friend. Pressed the pistol to her chest, close enough her shields wouldn’t be any use, and pulled the trigger twice.
With a whine like electronics dying, the woman slumped to the floor, two smoking holes in her chest.
The full throated roar of a Typhoon light machine gun filled the cafeteria. A Marine fireteam, led by Attar, firing at the enemy.
The Cerberus operatives turned and ran as their shields flickered and died.
Attar was saying something about Garrus calling for help, but Shepard dropped to her knees next to Thane. He’d managed to sit up, but he was bleeding heavily from his wound. She could see the white gleam of bone. She went to pull out some medigel, but Thane grabbed her wrist.
“I have time, and your Marines can help me. Stop her.”
“Thane,” she said helplessly.
“It is alright, siha. Do what you must.”
She squeezed his shoulder and rose to her feet. “Attar, Vega, keep the Councillor safe and help Thane. Liara, Garrus, let’s go.”
“I’m sorry, Williams,” Udina said as the elevator rattled around them.
“What?” Ash said, too heart sore and wrung out to try for civility. She rubbed her cheek, feeling dried blood there.
“There was evidence against Shepard,” the councillor said. His suit jacket was torn. “Hackett believed it was a Cerberus fabrication, and demanded concrete evidence before I did anything - and I wasn’t sure how you would react if I informed you.”
Ash’s fingers curled around her pistol. Hernandez glanced at her quickly, guiltily, but Ash didn’t meet her eyes.
But I did see your evidence, and my reaction was to take her into my bed and tell her, because I wanted to believe she was the woman I remember.
“It seems…out of character,” Tevos said carefully, “for Shepard to become a traitor now. She has always been dedicated to her mission, even when I disagreed with her methods.”
Out of character. She had been, the entire time since she’d walked into the Council chamber. Wrong nicknames, wrong movements - had she been trying to tell Ash something? Were they controlling her like Ash had feared last year?
She thought of that alien, cruel smile twisting that familiar mouth.
“Whatever happened, we need to get to safety first, Councillors,” she said hoarsely.
“Yes, of course,” Udina replied, brushing a hand down his torn jacket. Ebner, at his elbow, was still and calm.
Ash found herself watching her. Very calm for a civilian who’d just witnessed a shootout in which several people had died. Maybe she was being paranoid, seeing traitors everywhere. Or maybe not.
She shifted over to Hernandez and lowered her voice to a whisper, “Watch the assistant.”
She got a nod in reply.
The elevator door slid open to reveal the private dock. Good thing that Shepard’s scathing assessment of using the Destiny Ascension as an evac had been listened to three years ago. The irony didn’t escape Ash.
“Quickly-”
A small group was waiting for them. Three familiar figures that filled Ash’s gut with dread.
“Thank the Goddess,” Liara said, stepping forward. Soot was smeared on her chestplate, a patch of medigel on her forearm. She staggered to a stop when Hernandez’s rifle snapped up.
“Ashley?” Shepard asked, taking an uncertain step forward.
Ash’s pistol rose reluctantly. “Stay where you are.”
“Ash, what’s going on?”
“Come to finish us off, Shepard? We saw what you did to Spectre Maetok!” Udina said shrilly, “Williams, she’s blocking our escape!”
“Just - hang on!” she snapped back. Garrus’ rifle had raised, mandibles clenched tight to his face.
“Spectre Maetok? I’ve never-” realisation crested on Shepard’s face, rifle hanging loosely in her arms, muzzle pointing at the floor, “She went after you.”
“She?” Ashley demanded. “You really saying that it wasn’t you?”
“It wasn’t,” Shepard said, almost plaintively, “Ashley, please, you know me. I don’t know what that thing is or what Cerberus has done but I’m not a traitor. Please.”
Ashley wanted to believe her, and wasn’t that the problem? Her heart beating believe her, believe her. Her natural cynicism cutting like a knife. She’s using how you feel -
All the ways the…other Shepard had felt off. The difference between the cruelty and the pained desperation on the face of the woman looking at her.
Her pistol wavered and lowered.
“Williams,” Hernandez said, alarmed.
“Weapons down,” Shepard ordered, but it wasn’t to Hernandez and Ashley - it was to Garrus and Liara, who slowly lowered their weapons. And then Shepard tossed down her rifle, clattering to the ground with a metallic ring. Shepard, who always put the mission first, ripped her helmet off, and fumbled at the back of her neck for a moment before her amp landed in front of Ash.
“Okay, Skipper,” Ashley said. The other Shepard had tried to kill her. Emilia, standing in front of her, hadn’t brought her gun to bear on Ash the entire time they’d been talking.
Relief flashed across Shepard’s face. “Thank you.”
“I suggest we continue this conversation aboard the evac vessel,” Garrus drawled, eyes darting between Ash and Shepard.
“Yeah. Yeah, good idea.”
There was a shout behind her. Ashley whirled, pistol in hand. Ebner had a pistol in her hands and it was pressed into Tevos’ back.
“Hernandez,” Ashley began but-
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Hernandez said, her gun against Sparatus’ fringe, “I hoped it wouldn’t come to this.”
“The fuck are you doing?” she demanded, pistol raised.
“You really think he’s,” her chin jerked distastefully towards Udina, trembling on the ground, “going to save humanity?”
“You think the Illusive Man will?” she said incredulously, “Maria-”
Udina threw himself forward and towards Ash, as if he thought she could save him.
“You fucker,” Hernandez shouted, and in rapid succession several guns went off.
Ash lowered her pistol. Udina was lying on his back, eyes wide and unseeing. Hernandez dropped to her knees, making a choking noise. Blood flooded down the front of her armour from the two bullets Ash had put in her chest.
Bleeding from her arm, Ebner made a desperate run for it. Garrus raised his rifle and in two smooth trigger pulls, shot her down.
“I’ve got Udina,” Shepard said behind her.
Ash kicked the rifle out of Hernandez’s limp hands and then pressed down on the wounds. Hernandez hissed out in pain.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” she demanded thickly, “Why did you make me shoot you, goddamnit?”
Hernandez made a noise that might have been a groan or a chuckle. “...Azad’s on Earth, Ash.”
“You damned idiot,” she said helplessly.
Ash was a good shot and knew it. The evidence was under her hands as Maria Hernandez choked and then died.
Notes:
Tbh I've always found the canon Citadel Coup extremely lazy, with the confrontation, with Udina being a traitor, with Cerberus' aims.
Chapter 29: Exhale
Chapter Text
In the long, cream-coloured hallway of Huerta Memorial Hospital, Emilia Shepard leant against the wall and closed her eyes, not sure if she wanted to shout or punch the wall. Maybe both.
I am so sick of my friends dying.
Thane had been so goddamned calm about it, so goddamned accepting. She closed her fist and could still feel the ghost of his cool-skinned hand grabbing onto hers as he insisted that the woman who’d killed him had nothing to do with her.
She’d squeezed back, locked her secret fears behind her teeth, and watched as Kolyat took his other hand. Watched as Thane Krios died, wasting his last prayers on her.
The hospital door hissed opened and then closed. Kolyat Krios paused, like he was trying to find something to say.
“Thank you,” Kolyat said at last, “for being there for him. He didn’t have - a lot of friends and family.”
“He was important to me,” Shepard said, “I’m glad to have known him.”
Kolyat nodded, a little awkwardly. “My father and your fellow human Spectre - Ashley Williams - they became friends too, between the hospital and sharing poetry. Can you give me her contact so I can let her know of his passing?”
“Of course,” she said, voice a little hoarse, tapping on her omnitool to transfer it to his. In the frantic chaos after the shootings, there hadn’t been time to talk. Just Ash and Garrus taking Tevos and Sparatus to safety, while she and Liara had carried Udina to a nearby skycar and driven him to hospital, Liara behind the wheel and Shepard doing her best to keep his heart beating. She’d washed as much of his blood off her hands as she could in the scant minutes between them declaring Udina dead on arrival and being told that Thane was dying, but some of it was dried under her fingernails.
“Thank you,” Kolyat said and walked away. She wondered if she’d see him again, now the only thing tying them together was lifeless in that hospital room.
A few minutes later she was in a cab, headed to the Alliance Tower. Smoke still rose from the Presidium, but Citadel Security was regaining control of the situation. Cerberus had been able to cause chaos, but not to hold the station against a concerted counterattack by CSec officers on the Wards and the garrisons.
Bailey seemed certain that the majority of the Cerberus troops had been killed or captured, but where the - assassin - had gone, no one seemed quite sure. After being driven off by the Normandy’s Marines and then the short car chase above the Presidium, the two Cerberus agents had disappeared into the Keeper tunnels, like ghosts or a mirage.
Her omnitool rang. “Captain Shepard.”
“Ma’am, it’s Vega.”
“How can I help you?” she asked, knowing she hadn’t been able to keep the exhaustion out of her voice.
“We’ve finished helping CSec and I’ve sent the Marines back to the ship - put some of ‘em on guard duty, just in case.”
“Good thinking.”
“But uh - I thought you should hear right away, from me, Loca. Our wounded are gonna be okay, but Lance Corporal Klein and Sergeant O’Neal - they’re KIA.”
She dropped her forehead against the cool glass on the skycar door window. “...Understood. Fuck. Everyone else is okay?”
“Yeah. Dressler and Meideros are pretty shaken up, but I’ll keep an eye on ‘em.”
“Thanks. Sorry, Vega, I have to go. I’m reporting to Hackett.”
“Of course, ma’am.”
The Tower was a hive of activity, everyone armed and on edge, but a few flashes of her scowl and her ID had the way cleared for her, until finally she was in one of the comms rooms, with a QEC blinking as it connected to Hackett’s flagship.
“Captain,” Hackett’s expression was stormy even as a blue-tinged hologram. “What the hell happened?”
“It appears this was a coup attempt against the Alliance government, sir,” she said, doing her best to stay dispassionate, and likely failing from the way he looked at her, “aimed at capturing Udina and the key members of his government and forcing them to turn over power to Cerberus proxy politicians. Killing the other Councillors seems aimed at driving a wedge between us and our new allies and causing enough chaos to avoid their intervention.”
“Did the Illusive Man really think the military would go along with it?” Hackett said with a frown.
“Some did,” she pointed out. Maria Hernandez, for one.
“I imagine the…copy of you was meant to discredit you,” Hackett mused and she couldn’t help the flinch, “or replace you. I’ve beefed up my security - I’m sure he had a plan to get me out of the way as well. Cerberus is a cancer, Shepard, one we have to cut out before it kills us.”
“Agreed, sir.”
“I’ll convene a defence council meeting once I have a bit more information, I would like you and Williams to attend.”
“Of course, sir.”
“I will have further orders for you shortly, but in the meantime, if the new president needs anything, please assist him.”
Councillor and acting President of the Systems Alliance Dominic Osoba. The line of succession was getting rather ragged.
“Yessir.”
“Hackett out.”
The medbay was maddening still and quiet. Corporal Xiang Li stared at the metal ceiling, omnitool glowing around her wrist. She was bored. Bored and worried, an ache of pain under her bandages. Her friends had gone into combat without her. Her team had.
Not knowing anything was driving her a bit crazy.
The door to the medbay slid open. In walked PFC Dressler, still wearing his hardsuit. There were still flecks of dried blood that the decontamination wash hadn't gotten, particularly around his gloves, chest, and arms.
"Li!" He called, hurrying over to her bedside.
She sat up with a wince. “Dressler? It’s over?”
"Yeah, we won." He dragged a metal chair over to the cot. The sound of metal scraping against metal was horrendous. "Sorry," Dressler said sheepishly, before collapsing into the chair. "I'm exhausted. But I wanted to see you. It was all sorts of fucked."
“What happened?” she demanded. Something had, she could see it all over his face.
"Right," he leaned forward, looking at his hands. "So." He started rubbing at the blood. After a few moments, he realised what he was doing, then stopped, fixing his gaze on Li's face. "So Third was going with Shepard, and the rest of us went with Jaksch, because we didn't all fit in the Kodiak. We had different LZs, and we were supposed to hook up with Third and the Captain straight away. But the way we went - Cerbies everywhere."
There was a smell lingering around him- smoke and gunfire. "I mean, we probably had six separate engagements in fifteen minutes. Then one of the contacts we ran into, we chased them and they took us straight into ambush. Me, Meddy, and Klein, we were all up front. The rocket or grenade or whatever it was, we lost shields. Meddy hit the deck and I scrambled into cover. But Klein, he- he couldn't go nowhere. There was a machinegun in the enemy force somewhere and they just…"
He looked away from her, his eyes dampening. "He took two bursts before he dropped.'
The blood drained from her face. “Is he…?”
Dressler nodded, opening his mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Silent tears began to fall, streaking down his cheeks. After a moment, he wiped at them. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I did CPR, but I just couldn't stop the bleeding. I mean… He was just right there and I couldn't-..."
“Alex,” Li said and leant forward despite the pain in her torso to hug him.
Dressler embraced her, squeezing a little too tightly. He mumbled another apology and a few more tears streamed down. The hug lasted for a few more seconds and neither of them seemed to want it to end.
When it finally did, Dressler leaned back again into the chair. He dried his eyes. "Anyway," he said, clearing his throat. "We got a casevac and Halberd - the Citadel Marine garrison - took him. ONeal got hit when we were trying to break out - dunno if she’s okay or not, it looked bad. We almost surrendered to Cerbies after that. We were only saved by a passing Hierarchy unit out of sheer luck. By the time we finally made it to C-Sec HQ, the Captain was gone so we held it and repelled Cerberus until they had to flee." He shrugged. "Like I said. All sorts of fucked." After a moment, he blinked, remembering the other reason he had come to medbay. "Where's Watts? I thought he'd be up here with you."
Klein was dead.
Klein was dead, and she hadn’t been there. If she’d been there, she’d have been walking point. He’d been quite literally walking in her place.
She cleared her throat. “Uh, Doc let him out. Still on light duties but he’s allowed out of the medbay.”
"Oh," he rubbed a hand through his blonde hair. "Well good. I'm glad he's okay. What about you, how are you doing?"
“I’m okay,” she said, “still hurts a little but I’ll be okay. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you guys.”
"Don't be. Anybody in the platoon will say they would have traded places with Klein, but… we couldn't afford to lose you." Dressler knew as well as Li did that had she not been wounded, she would have been in Klein's boots. He himself may have even been back further, away from the action, even more helpless than he had been. He shrugged again. "I couldn't afford to lose you."
Something in her chest clenched, “I’m going to miss him a lot.”
"Me too. He was a good guy." Dressler sighed, awkwardly patting her hand. "I'm sorry, but I gotta go get out of this shit and get some rest. If you're not out by tomorrow, I'll come up again before my watch starts."
Outside the window stretched a long, green strip of Presidium parkland, as far as Ash could see, an oasis of untouched beauty in the middle of chaos. Ash leant against the conference table and took a deep breath of the filtered Citadel air. She was heartsore and bruised, and in her pocket was Sarah’s rosary. Sarah, who’d been kept safe by Shepard’s friend Kasumi, Sarah who’d hugged her and told her she understood.
If I had a chance to be with Thomas again-
Fuck, that was why she was standing here, having volunteered for a political meeting. Despite Hackett’s offer of her own team and a ship to take her where she needed to go, because she was being selfish, because even if what had happened had finally snapped what was between them, if she had the chance to watch Emilia’s back she had to take it.
If Shepard would let her back on the ship.
Fuck. She blinked and remembered the feel of the pistol in her hand, Shepard’s amp bouncing at her feet.
Thane was dead, Maria was dead and a traitor, there was some Cerberus psychopath wearing Shepard’s face and she’d pointed a gun at the love of her life.
Still, Ash had to ask, and that meant tracking Shepard down long enough to ask.
“Fuck today,” she muttered.
“On that, Spectre Williams, we agree,” a voice said behind her.
“Sorry, sir,” she said, chagrined. She hadn’t heard the new Councillor and acting President come in. Dominic Osoba was much like many Alliance suits she’d met before - neat beard, neater suit, but there were bags under his blue eyes.
He smiled tightly, “None needed. It’s an accurate summation of today’s events.” He took a moment to look out the window. “Captain Shepard should be joining us shortly.”
Ash nodded. She felt a bit bad for him. He’d been an assistant minister in Shastri’s government before the war, then one of the few survivors of the Alliance’s civilian government, thrust into bigger and bigger roles. Now he was humanity’s leader.
At least, Hackett would let him say he was.
“My son’s a Marine,” he said, “He joined up the third day of the war.”
“Chose the right branch,” Ash said, trying for humour.
Osoba returned a ghost of a smile.
The door opened and they both turned as Shepard walked in. Dark eyes flicked between Ash and Osoba, features still and featureless like granite. Ash had to force herself to stop staring, looking for the cracks in Shepard’s composure.
Work first, personal shit later. She didn’t think the leader of all of humanity would appreciate her asking what are we in the middle of a meeting.
“Thank you both for coming. Please take a seat.”
“Of course, Councillor,” Shepard said smoothly.
The aides had set the room up so Osoba was on one side of the table and the two Spectres on the other. As they sat, Shepard’s elbow brushed her arm.
“Sorry,” she said, lowly.
“It’s fine,” Ash laid her hands on top of the table.
If Osoba noticed the tension between them, he didn’t say anything, just settled himself in his own chair. “I predominantly asked you here for two reasons. One was to thank you both for saving my colleagues on the Council. That’s gone a way to repair the damage the traitors Cerberus planted on the station did.”
Goddamnit, Maria.
“Secondly, I want to ask your help. I understand Admiral Hackett intends to call a Defence Council meeting. And,” he looked at them both in turn and there was intelligence there she hadn’t noticed in him before, “I’m not fool enough to think that civilian control of the military is anything more than a suggestion now Udina is dead. I’m a diplomat, not a general - I intend to stay out of you and Hackett’s way and do what I do best.”
“That’s…commendable, sir,” Shepard said. Ash just wondered where he was going with this.
“I hope that I can convince you both to bring the case to the Admiral that Cerberus needs dealing with sooner rather than later.”
Ash frowned. “Cerberus are a distraction.”
“I think today proves they’re a bit more than that, Spectre,” Osoba said flatly.
Ash did her best not to glare at him. “What I mean is; if we pull too many resources from the fronts with the Reapers, we risk a collapse. That will be far more catastrophic than a couple of politicians getting shot. Sir.”
Osoba winced. “Blunt, but I see your point. My contention is that if we lose our allies, we lose everything.”
“I don’t believe our alliance with the Hierarchy and Urdnot is so fragile,” Shepard replied. Her eyes were two chips of black ice.
Kolyat had said that Shepard had been there when Thane died. Ash ached for her.
“The political reality is,” Osoba insisted, “that if we don’t strike back against Cerberus, the other species will question us. The asari and salarians are already difficult to deal with - we need to assure them that fighting with us is their best option.”
"Cerberus spent a lot of resources on this coup attempt," Ash said,"I doubt they have the combat power to control Omega and launch another attack similar to this."
"That may be so, but can we risk it?" Osoba countered.
“There are military benefits to removing the dagger in our back,” Shepard said, “I will discuss with Admiral Hackett if we have reserves that can be committed to such an operation.”
“Thank you,” Osoba said after Ash nodded, “Cerberus might not have succeeded in co-opting the Alliance government, but they succeeded in killing Udina and potentially shaking trust in us - from both our own citizens and other governments. We have to reassure them, somehow. I’ll do what I can, but sometimes only action will suffice. I will leave the…military details up to you both.”
When Osoba was done with them, they emerged out onto the Presidium, devoid of the usual foot traffic.
“Shepard,” Ash called, when it looked like Shepard was just going to go to the nearest rapid transit, “I’m sorry about Thane.”
Shepard’s shoulders slumped in her dress whites, “I am too.”
“I didn’t know him for long but he was,” she searched for the word, “calming.”
“He was. We didn’t always agree, but he was making himself into a better person. Making up for the wrongs he’d done. I admired that.”
“You would,” Ash said with a flicker of a sad smile. “Can we talk, for a sec?”
Shepard paused, and then nodded. “Yeah, of course.”
Of course, but you’ve been not answering my calls. She bit down the flash of anger. “Thanks.”
Shepard nodded to the new major’s insignia on her collar. “Congratulations.”
“It was pretty rushed - but thanks.” Hackett had surprised her with it, and she was fairly sure it was because he’d offered her an O4’s slot and didn’t expect her to not want it. Wartime was good for one thing if you were lucky enough to live enough to see the rapid promotions.
She decided it was time she ripped the bandage off. “That was - pretty fucked up. What happened. I keep going over it in my head, trying to make sense of it.”
Shepard didn’t quite look at her. “We did the best we could under the circumstances. We saved most of the Council and got to walk away.”
The words were steady and strong, but also what Ash privately thought of as Shepard’s bullshitting tone. Suitably heroic, suitably firm, and rehearsed. An act, and a dismissal of the subject.
“Look,” Ash said, “Hackett offered me a team.”
Something flashed across Shepard’s face before it stilled. “Well-deserved.”
“I told him that if it was an option - if you agreed - I’d rather ride this thing out on the Normandy.”
“You would?” Shepard asked quietly, now looking at her.
“Yeah. It’s - the centre of the fight. It’s where it all started.” It’s you.
“Having a second Spectre aboard would have a lot of advantages,” Shepard said, “and I do need someone who could take over if I’m incapacitated,” yeah, babe, gonna try to prevent that one, “and your promotion makes putting you into the chain of command a little easier.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes. There’s not an officer I trust more on the battlefield.”
Funny, how that declaration of trust still felt like a knife in her ribs.
Shepard looked up from her paperwork at the knock on her door. “Come in!”
It was her advertised ‘open door’ office hours afterall. Even if she was trying to work out where exactly to slot Ashley into the ship’s TO&E. Hackett might have agreed but if he thought an officer of Ashley’s calibre was being wasted, she was sure he’d change his mind.
Maybe it would have been the right thing to say no. Maybe it would have been the right thing to keep her gun and her amp. Maybe Udina would still be alive if she had.
Shepard didn’t know what to do with that yet.
Corporal Schaper entered, stopping as the door shut behind him, posture sharp as he came to attention. “Ma'am."
“Corporal Schaper. Take a seat.”
Falling back at ease, Schaper pulled the seat quietly, as if not to disturb. "Thank you ma'am."
He ran a hand through his dark hair, meeting her gaze but looking quite thoughtful. "I would like, with your permission Captain, to lodge a complaint against a superior officer."
She blinked and leaned back in her chair. “Have you taken this through the chain of command or are you invoking your right to come directly to me?”
The corporal cleared his throat. "I informed Sergeant Hopeha of my intentions to bring this to you directly. She agreed."
Hohepa was definitely no fool. “You have the right to come to me. I take my open door policy seriously. One moment.”
She grabbed her laptop and opened it. “Are you willing to put your name to this complaint, Schaper? It will be kept confidential outside of myself, the executive officer and JAG.”
"Yes ma'am." No hesitation here.
She nodded in understanding. “Which officer and what allegations would you like to bring, Corporal?”
“Lieutenant Jaksch, ma’am, under the allegations of dereliction of duty, and failure to obey a lawful order.”
She blinked. “Serious charges. What happened?”
Schaper’s head tilted, a scowl creasing his brow,. “Before we linked up with you at C-Sec headquarters. Lieutenant Jaksch diverted us to attempt a civilian rescue. Despite your direct orders, and against his NCO’s advice...” Anger flashed across his face before he controlled it. “We were ordered to pursue an enemy of unknown quantity, by entering an obviously risky area.
“We got a few WIA, and two KIAs while being ambushed, as you know.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “We ended up surrounded. The lieutenant ordered us to surrender as soon as it was offered… We wouldn’t have made it to C-Sec HQ if not for the Hierarchy forces coming in their rear.”
Shepard couldn’t help the wince that crossed her face. Nearly losing two thirds of her Marine Detachment…
She jotted some notes down.
“Were there calls for help, civilians requesting aid?”
Schaper shifted in his chair, the anger coming back.
"Negative ma'am. We weren't even going quite in the right direction. Despite Sergeant Hohepa pointing it out. Lieutenant Jacksh made effective use of his authority to shut out questions. A Cerbie squad engaged us but we easily repelled them."
Schaper dragged out a breath. "We were then ordered to pursue blindly, instead of continuing to the rendezvous point. Sergeant Hohepa interjected again. Her concerns were ignored. Turned out to be an ambush."
Schaper nodded, tight lipped. "Lieutenant Jaksch justified his order on the grounds that civilians were probably in danger."
A moment of silence.
"There was no call for help ma'am."
“I see.” Shepard finished typing and looked up. “Our mission was made more difficult by both the delay in the rest of the platoon reaching us and the casualties sustained. You believe this was more due to Lieutenant Jaksch’s decisions rather than purely enemy resistance?”
Schaper pondered that. "We don’t get to decide when or where the enemy attacks. But in this instance, here are the facts. Lieutenant Jaksch is responsible for taking us on our most direct route to you. He did not." He raised one finger.
"After meeting said enemy resistance and successfully repelling them, Lieutenant Jaksch, under an unsubstantiated reason, delayed us even further." Second finger.
"By sending us double time to save hypothetical civilians, in a highly dangerous position, blind, all while disregarding the advice of his senior NCOs who clearly raised the risks and delays on the mission…We lost two good Marines for no reason, and time we knew was of essence… On a mere hunch, Captain. So yes. I hold the lieutenant entirely responsible."
“I understand.” She frowned at her laptop. She gave her subordinates leeway with the understanding that they understood her objectives and would act in line with that. Haring off after Cerberus hadn’t achieved any of that. And if Schaper was bringing this to her - having spoken to Hohepa, the platoon’s guide and arguably most respected NCO given Vega was still a relative newcomer - he was losing the platoon’s trust. That could cause massive issues of its own. “Do you have anything else you would like me to consider or know, Schaper?”
"Actually yes ma'am. Not something tangible but…" Schaper scratched his arm. "I feel it adds to this."
Shepard tilted her head. “Very well. Whatever you say to me will be considered.”
"You probably know from the report Cerberus asked for our surrender once they had us good." The German Marine bit down his lip.
"Lieutenant Jaksch was immediately ready to offer it, pressing us all to do the same. I'm not saying it wasn't unreasonable but, Ma'am. you have to know…This man was quick in throwing his arms out in surrender; after failing to follow clear orders and sensible advice. He never attempted to call for help outside our own frequencies. His rationale was that Cerberus wouldn’t harm us since we were humans.” He scoffed, cocking a brow, “As if that stopped them before. And you want to know the best part? The turians who saved our skin saw it all happen. The good Lieutenant setting an example, arms up and all."
Schaper didn't try to hide his disgust and contempt. "If I may, with all due respect… I don't think we can afford this level of incompetence. Not in the situation we're in ma'am."
“Our missions are difficult,” Shepard replied, “and require good judgement. I take this very seriously, Corporal, and will investigate accordingly.”
Schaper breathed out. "Thank you, Captain. I know you'll see to it fairly. But whatever happens, and I can speak from experience, ma'am… This man lost the confidence of the platoon and he lost it for good."
Well, she’d been considering how to bring Ashley aboard and into the chain of command, perhaps a solution had presented itself, even if not in the way she’d hoped. “I understand. As per your Article 145 rights, this complaint has to be investigated within thirty days - but given the gravity of the raised issues, I will be looking into it immediately. I will notify you of the outcome once my investigation is complete.”
She needed to know if Jaksch really was incompetent - if he’d lost the trust of his platoon, or if it was just the dislike of a single angry NCO who’d lost a friend.
"I appreciate it ma'am." Raising from his chair, Schaper stopped himself.
"May… May I make two personal requests, Captain?"
“Of course.” She gestured for him to proceed.
"Bit of a longshot, and not really my place, ma'am, but this, losing Klein and O’Neal, it hit the platoon pretty hard. If you ever get time to visit us down there, I'm sure they'd appreciate it."
Her expression gentled. “Klein and O’Neal were good Marines We’ll hold a memorial for them, and I will check in with the platoon.”
Schaper's mood matched hers. "They were. Thank you ma'am. The whole platoon did their best."
“I know you did. Sergeant Hohepa spoke highly of your reaction to the ambush.”
Schaper stiffened, flushing a little. "Thanks ma'am. Causing problems to people who annoy me is sadly my second nature. Please think nothing of it."
Shepard smiled. “A good skill to have on the Normandy, Corporal. You said there was another thing?”
"Before that… unless Sergeant Hohepa made mention, PFC Dressler went above and beyond trying to save Klein. He's a damn good Marine."
“He’s impressed me thus far for such a young Marine,” she agreed, “Sergeant Hohepa has suggested promotion and a Distinguished Combat Medal - I assume you agree?”
"Wholeheartedly Captain, but I won't throw my weight around on such things." Schaper cleared his throat. "Last request is entirely personal ma'am."
“Open door policy is open door, Schaper. If I can help, I will.”
The corporal's shoulders sagged. "I'm trying to track someone. Someone I'm close to. You're the only one besides Sergeant Hohepa and Dressler privy to this…" He hesitated. "He's turian. C-Sec. Detective Siso Vitacus…"
It was clear Schaper was nervous telling her this. Not everyone was accepting within the Alliance or humanity of relationships with turians. Even her turian best friend hanging around clearly hadn’t fully soothed those fears.
"It's been nearly impossible to contact him since… well, you know.”
“You must be very worried,” she said sympathetically, “I’ll see if I can find a way to contact him for you. I have some contacts in C-Sec.”
And Liara.
"Thanks Captain, that would mean the world. He works at Zakera. He doesn't have relatives on the Citadel. No one to look out for him, except colleagues I guess. So yes, I'm very worried."
“I’ll see what I can do. And don’t worry, this will remain between us.”
"Thank you ma'am."
“Dismissed, Corporal.”
Codex Entry
Defection of the Planet Noveria:
From: Analyst Jemlan
To: Major Kirrahe
Subj: Noveria
Major,
We have confirmed reports from Noveria that the Board of Directors has announced its support for Cerberus, citing the inability of the Systems Alliance to combat the Reaper threat and regain control of lost human territory. It appears this declaration was timed to coincide with the Cerberus coup attempt on Alliance leadership, and that several corporations that recently gained access to the board were, in fact, Cerberus shell companies.
STG contingency plans immediately went into effect. Any information or research that belonged to or could be damaging to the Salarian Union has been terminated. Agents are standing by to continue surveillance.
At this stage much of ERCS is still at their posts, but there are credible SIGINT indications that Cerberus has taken over several bases on the planet.
Obviously, the research undertaken on Noveria could be dangerous to the Union and Cerberus has proven an enemy after their attack on our base on Sur’Kesh and the attempted assassination of Councillor Valern. It is unlikely, however, despite Cerberus’ relatively low numbers, that they can be dislodged from Noveria without sustained military action due to Noveria’s extensive orbital fortifications.
My recommendation is that STG influence the Alliance to attack Noveria. They may currently be susceptible to diplomatic pressure. My assessment is that an Alliance battlegroup and supported infantry division could dislodge the Cerberus garrison and force the board to capitulate with moderate to heavy casualties.
With respect,
Analyst Jemlan
Chapter 30: Orbit
Notes:
Warning there is a sex scene towards the end of the chapter. Kinda obvious when it's gonna happen, please skip if it's not your thing and/or you are in public.
Chapter Text
PART FIVE: BETWEEN THE HAMMER AND THE ANVIL
All the old knives that have rusted in my back, I drive in yours.
Plato, Phaedrus
Shepard’s head hurt. The last forty seven hours had been a nightmare, one she couldn’t bring herself to think too much about.
Thane. That…woman. Ash’s eyes, that look of betrayal. The gun between them.
Now this. She smoothed a hand down the jacket of her dress whites. The ship was humming under her feet. Hackett’s new orders had come in quicker than she’d expected - a rendezvous with the newly created Task Force 57 and what might be a futile search - so the crew were running through the pre voyage checks and she had just enough time for this.
The door to Shepard's office slid open silently. A sailor, also in dress jacket with a peaked cap entered. "Ma'am," Vogt said, saluting. "I've spoken with him. He doesn't wish to be represented by counsel or call any witnesses in his defence. He's ready."
Shepard returned the salute before sitting down, blinking at that. “He’s sure?”
"Adamant." Vogt nodded, looking weary. "I suggested Castillo, if not me, and he declined."
She rubbed her face. “Alright then. I never enjoy doing this.”
But Schaper’s complaint and Lieutenant Jaksch’s own report necessitated it. More than that, she needed to know if she could trust him in the field with her Marines. “Send him in.”
Vogt stepped outside and returned with two Marines, one in dress blues, the other in a working uniform with a baton on her hip. They approached Captain Shepard and saluted in unison.
"Ma'am, First Lieutenant Jaksch reporting as ordered."
The other Marine - Campbell, stood to the side, adopting a parade rest position, and faced inwards, towards Jaksch.
Vogt stood to Shepard's side.
"This non-judicial hearing is called to order. As ship's senior legal counsel, Captain Shepard has asked me to facilitate this hearing, as is her right pursuant to Regulation 271 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice." He loaded something on his omnitool.
"There are certain requirements under the Uniform Code of Military Justice when such a proceeding is established. First, Lieutenant Jaksch, you were required to obtain legal advice in relation to these charges. Have you obtained such legal advice?"
Jaksch nodded. "I have." If he was feeling upset, or scared, or nervous, his expression betrayed nothing. Instead, his features were completely stoic and his gaze even.
"You are afforded certain rights under the Uniform Code of Military Justice. You have the right to be represented by a legal representative or have a spokesperson make statements on your behalf. Do you understand this right?"
"Yes sir."
"Do you have any requests in relation to this right?"
"No sir."
"You are entitled to demand a Trial by General Court Martial. Do you understand this right?"
"Yes sir."
"Do you have any requests in relation to this right?"
"No sir."
"First Lieutenant Jaksch, a non-judicial proceeding is a formal disciplinary proceeding as established under the Uniform Code of Military Justice. Your Commanding Officer, Captain Shepard, is considered the Adjudicator. This means she has the sole authority to hear all evidence against you, find the charge proved or unable to be proved. If the charge against you is found proved, the Adjudicator has the power to penalise you in accordance with the powers so granted under the Uniform Code of Military Justice. If the Adjudicator finds the charge proved but believes the penalty befitting such a charge is greater than the Adjudicator can impose, the Adjudicator can refer this matter to a Systems Alliance Military Judge Advocate General or Deputy Judge Advocate General for Sentencing or General Court Martial. Do you understand?"
"Yes Sir."
"You are charged with Failing to Obey a Lawful Order and Dereliction of Duty. How do you plead?"
"Not Guilty, Sir."
"Thank you." Vogt let his omnitool fade and turned to Shepard. "That's all from me Captain."
“Thank you, Commander Vogt. Lieutenant Jaksch, I have received reports that you disobeyed one of my orders during our last operation, and that in doing so you placed your subordinates in considerable danger, violating your duty to care for them. Our profession entails risk, but it also is a responsibility as the Marine Detachment Commander for you to judge this risk in relation to our mission objectives. I am considering whether I should impose a non judicial punishment as per my powers under the UCMJ. I will not impose a punishment unless I am sure beyond reasonable doubt that you committed these offences.”
She paused. “Do you wish to submit any evidence you did not commit these offences or why you committed these offences? This may include witness testimony, your own testimony or any other information you would like me to know.”
"I wish to speak in my own defence. Other than that, I have no other evidence I wish to provide." He cleared his throat, his expression still unreadable. "Captain, I acknowledge that you had given me an order that, once my platoon had debarked from the shuttle, we were to rendezvous with you and the remaining squad at C-Sec HQ. It was always my intention to do so and, in fact, with the support of Hierarchy Army and other Alliance forces, I did so. We were delayed due to significant and continuous contact with Cerberus Troops."
He paused for a moment. His words were measured, precisely calculated. "On the way, we encountered a Cerberus patrol. As you well know, Cerberus tends to commit heinous acts against non-humans, and the Citadel has a large non-human civilian population. When the Cerberus patrol attempted to flee, I ordered the platoon to maintain contact and follow. It is my duty as a Systems Alliance Marine Corps Officer to, insofar as is possible, preserve civilian life. In my view, my actions were not only reasonable, but necessary, to carry out that duty."
He shook his head. "While the deaths of Sergeant O’Neal and Lance Corporal Klein were regrettable, I am proud of their sacrifice in our action to preserve civilian life. As you have acknowledged, ma'am, our profession carries significant risk. Those risks were carefully considered by me. By engaging with a large Cerberus force for an extended period of time, we tied up Cerberus resources that would have otherwise been spent killing or capturing civilians." His eyes didn't deviate from Shepard's. He was no coward. "I do not apologise for my decisions."
Shepard tilted her head. “Were you aware of my commander’s intent in this operation?”
Something of a trick question. He’d listened to her briefing.
"Yes ma'am. Your intent was that any forces under your direct command proceed immediately to your location so that the forces could be consolidated to one: secure the VIP; and two: avoid a weaker, understrength element being outflanked or destroyed by an enemy force." Jaksch's response was almost robotic. "While it may have been possible to break contact to comply with that order, in so doing, there is an extreme probability I would have condemned to death a countless number of civilians and thus failed in my other duties. Additionally, when I came aboard this vessel, you and I had a discussion on auftragstaktik. It is my understanding that you preferred the officers under your command to exercise initiative and good judgement to attend to those orders as they saw fit."
Vogt's expression shifted. Clearly, he thought Jaksch was speaking well on his own behalf.
“You’re correct on that,” Shepard agreed, “However, our mission was of extreme significance and helped turn the tide of the battle - but that was made more difficult by the delay in your arrival and the casualties the unit took. Your decision also resulted in the near surrender of your platoon to the enemy. Knowing that the mission was to rescue a Councillor and regain control of a vital installation on the station to turn the tide of the battle, and in the absence of a civilian request for assistance - do you stand by the statement that pursuing those Cerberus troops was more urgent than your orders?”
Jaksch nodded sharply. "I do. The immediacy of pursuing those troops was imperative - I admit that it was not my intention to engage a substantially larger force, but to eliminate a small patrol and move on. Had I known that a platoon strength element with armoured and air support was nearby to assist, I would not have pursued and would thus not be facing these charges."
The guy wasn’t stupid, she’d give him that. “Spectre missions will occasionally require a certain level of deciding between bad and worse options, Lieutenant. Can I trust you to make those decisions in the spirit on my orders if not always the letter?”
"Yes ma'am. That has always been my aim."
“Not everyone who was present agres with your assessment of what happened.” She wasn’t stupid. The Marines were grieving and Klein had been one of them far longer than Jaksch, but Schaper was the clearheaded sort.
"I understand ma'am. Though, I admit that I have some reservations about Corporal Schaper's impartiality with respect to that mission." No one had specifically outlined to Jaksch that Schaper and Shepard had spoken, but Jaksch had openly been challenged by the Corporal.
"You see, ma'am, it is my understanding that Corporal Schaper is engaged in a relationship with a turian C-Sec officer. There was some suggestion that same C-Sec officer may have been at the C-Sec HQ. While I make no comment about the nature of that relationship or my opinion of it - frankly, it's none of my business - I believe that Corporal Schaper's judgement was impaired. Further, I feel that any complaint levied against me, by Corporal Schaper, was likely brought in bad faith."
Vogt cut in, eyes fixed on Campbell. "I would like to remind everyone that this is a closed hearing and anything discussed will remain within these walls."
Shepard shifted in her seat. frowning. “The complainant will remain anonymous, Lieutenant.”
The slightest hint of emotion crossed Jaksch's lips for a brief moment - a smirk of satisfaction. It faded quicker than it came. "Yes ma'am. I just ask that any relevant factors be considered when a decision is made."
Again, Vogt cut in. "There is no legal requirement that any complaint be brought in good faith only, though as a matter of procedural fairness, Captain Shepard must take into account only the relevant matters when making a decision."
“Do you have anything else you would like me to consider, Lieutenant? Your previous military record for example.”
"Yes, please, ma'am. I have served with honour and distinction at each point of my career. I have never been investigated, charged, or sentenced for any similar offences. If you are to find me guilty of one or both of these charges, I ask that my penalty be lenient as I have only ever tried my best for the Alliance and the Marine Corps. I am a capable officer and a good Marine.Thank you for allowing me to speak."
“Thank you, Lieutenant.” She paused, looking down at the NJP paperwork. “I accept that you acted in good faith and that your record to this point is that of a good Marine officer. I find you not guilty of dereliction of duty. I find you guilty of Failure to Obey a Lawful Order.”
She paused again. Jaksch cast his eyes towards the ground. Finally, he seemed to show some real emotion. Disappointment. After a moment, he returned his posture to attention. This time, he struggled to maintain a completely neutral face.
“The reason for my finding is that I while I accept your genuine belief in your decision, it was incongruent with the mission, my orders and was, by your own account, warned against by several NCOs who reminded you of said orders. This decision was taken without a direct call for assistance by civilians. This nearly led to the loss of your unit and did result in the deaths of two Marines. However, in light of the mitigating factors and your service record, I will be lenient. You will forfeit two weeks pay, will be on half-pay for an additional month and you will be confined to the ship on our next shore leave.”
It was a light punishment for insubordination. He’d spoken eloquently in his defence.
But she couldn’t leave him in charge of her Marine Detachment.
"Thank you, ma'am." Jaksch seemed relieved. People could be detained or discharged for not following orders. His career was saved.
But Shepard wasn’t done.
“Additionally, I will be relieving you of duty as the MARDET Commander.” No way to put it except bluntly. “We will be taking on another Marine officer, Major Williams. You will be her adjutant and XO.”
The lieutenant looked like he'd been slapped. Vogt too looked surprised. All three of them knew this was the real punishment. The guy wasn’t an idiot, maybe he’d be useful assisting Ash.
"Ma'am?"
“I’ll be blunt, Lieutenant. I need another Spectre onboard to take over our vital mission in case I am killed or incapacitated. We will also likely be taking on an additional N team which will necessitate a more senior officer.”
That was the palatable reason she wanted Ash onboard at least. The part where she feared how long she’d been exposed to Reaper tech would remain unsaid.
"I…" Jaksch grappled with the words. For how well he had spoken for himself earlier, this was a very different man. He arrived on, "Aye ma'am. I understand. I'll make myself at Major Williams' disposal."
Vogt seemed perturbed, but he said nothing before he cleared his throat. "A non-judicial punishment has been imposed. First Lieutenant Jaksch, you have the right to appeal against the punishment to a Court of competent authority as established under the Uniform Code of Military Justice. Any such appeal must be made within 28 days of this proceeding, in the prescribed form and in accordance with the procedures under the Uniform Code of Military Justice. Do you understand your right to appeal?"
"Yes sir."
Vogt looked to Shepard. "Anything else, ma'am?"
“No,” she said calmly. “Dismissed, Lieutenant.”
Without a sound, Jaksch saluted smartly. He turned on his heel and allowed Campbell to escort him out of the office.
When they left, Vogt removed his cap. Running a hand through his brunette high and tight, he faced Shepard. "I imagine you can understand my unease, Captain."
Shepard sighed, signing the last part of the NJP paperwork. “If you have concerns, let’s hear them.”
"Major Williams, ma'am? I don't know what the story is between the two of you, but - well… You remember the trial." It was still a little awkward, despite Vogt being a competent Officer. "Here you are passing NJPs for insubordination, and then your girlfriend, or ex, or… whatever, comes aboard to serve under you?"
“Good thing I wasn’t NJPing him for frat, then,” Shepard said dryly, and then more seriously, “I’ve cleared it with Admiral Hackett and he intended for her to have that billet from the beginning. If you know a human Spectre who isn’t Williams by all means, Commander.” She paused before continuing. Vogt and her would never be best friends but his concerns were valid. “Before she was anything else, she was one of the best Marines I’ve known and a brilliant officer. She also knows me well enough to determine if my behaviour changes, and I trust her to do the right thing regardless of our personal relationship.”
Vogt held a hand up in front of him. "I don't mean to imply that she's not capable, nor that you don't know what you're doing. The two of you are excellent Marines." He shrugged. "If Hackett's on board, I won't labour the point, ma'am." Vogt paused for a moment. "And I trust your judgement."
Despite the issues the two of them had and the rocky start to their relationship, Shepard believed him.
"I do recall that you said you didn't want to be surrounded with yes men. I may not be a groundpounder or fully understand the infantry missions, but I intend to keep an eye out and if I have further concerns, I'll raise them with you. I'm completely focussed on the mission." He smiled at her, though it was still a little awkward. "As long as you're aware of my reservations, I'm content."
She nodded. “I appreciate your opinions, Vogt. If you have any concerns going forward regarding my conduct with Major Williams, please let me know.”
"Aye ma'am." Vogt affixed his cap again. "I'm going to get out of the gladrags and back to work. If there's nothing else?"
“Dismissed, Commander.”
The first time Ash had come aboard the SR-2 she’d thought it was like a just not right reflection of the Normandy she’d served aboard. Muscle memory had led her down wrong corridors or into bulkheads.
The impression remained. Not helped by the new XO who greeted her with a quick hug. “Good to see you, Williams.”
“Same, Wulandri.”
“I’ve put your other stuff in the starboard observation deck. You might need the room for an office and shit, and all the other officer cabins are taken.”
“Thanks.”
She dumped her seabag in there and went to the galley. It’d been a long couple of days and she needed a coffee. She glanced once at the elevator and then away.
She wasn’t expecting to see who she saw at the coffee machine. The practised hands of a full commander played over the machine and the brown liquid spurted into the cup.
Commander Vogt turned, focused on fixing the lid to the lip, "Sorry, I'll get out of the way." As he spoke, he glanced up, but did a double take.
"Oh- Major Williams." The surprise was evident in his voice. "How are you healing up?" He said awkwardly.
She stared at him for a moment. What was he doing on the ship? Shepard’s ship? After a moment she stepped past with a clenched jaw, grabbed a cup and put it under the spout. “Just fine.”
"Good, good. Glad to hear it. Oh, and hey, congratulations on your appointment. You must be proud."
“Thanks.” She hit the button on the coffee maker. “I’m surprised to see you on the Normandy. Not exactly a standard JAG posting.” Her tone was hard and she knew it.
There was a troubled expression on Vogt's face, but his response was even. "I spent two years seconded to the Diplomatic Corps and I've been legal advisor to the Citadel garrison's commander before all this. The kind of ops the Captain has been running needs legal assistance. And I have shipboard experience as a SWO."
Vogt drank from the cup in his hands. "Besides, there's not much left of the JAG Corps and, well, I'm the most qualified for the job." Vogt stepped away, to a nearby bench and put his coffee down. "Look… I know I'm not who you expected - or wanted - to see, but I'm glad I ran into you."
She took a sip of her coffee. Warm and bitter. “And why’s that?”
Ash wasn’t going to pretend he was her favourite person. Intellectually she knew he’d been doing his job, but having her life dissected so painfully and so publicly - that was going to stay with her a long time.
"I thought it would be a good idea to speak to you, clear the air." He paused for a moment, looking down, towards the bench. "Apologise."
After a moment, she sighed. “Let’s sit down.”
She was pissed but the professional in her knew that if he was Shepard’s legal advisor, they’d be in close contact often, as two of the ship’s senior officers. She’d hear him out at least.
She settled on one of the mess hall benches and swirled the black coffee in her cup before taking another sip.
Vogt walked around, taking a seat opposite her. "I read through your service record, when I was preparing. It's impressive stuff. You're a damn good Marine, Major."
She smiled slightly over the edge of her cup. “I know.” There was a time where Shepard’s assurances of that had rung false in her ears, and she’d held a deep insecurity underneath all of her brashness, but she knew she was good at her job. That’s why she was a Spectre. All the good that had done for her. She shook off the thought of the false Presidium light glinting off a gun barrel. “But thanks. I’m guessing you’re pretty good at your job considering you got Shepard convicted.”
Shepard who had, four years ago, played the role of the shining, all loving hero well. The reality wasn’t quite that, but the public had seen what they wanted.
The lawyer chuckled, though it was dry, without mirth. "Thanks. Most people seem to forget that I managed to get convictions."
He sighed though, looking Ash in the eye. "When I was preparing this thing, it was important for me to hammer Shepard. I mean, really nail her. You… with the history you shared…" Vogt shrugged, looking sullen, "You were caught in the crossfire. Everything I did, what came out in court, it was in the context of Shepard's wrongdoing. So, I'm sorry. It… can't have been easy."
“The frat was one of the few chinks in her armour,” she acknowledged, “and no, it wasn’t easy. Things between us have been - complicated for a while, and having all that dragged up,” she let out a breath. She’d been furious and hurting by turns during the trial. Caught between her indignation on Shepard’s behalf and her own heartbreak. “It fucking sucked.”
"I wouldn't blame you if you had knocked me out when you saw me just now," he agreed. Looking down at the table again, Vogt rolled the cup between his hands, thoughtful. With a furrowed brow, he seemed to come to a decision about something.
"For what it's worth, my instructions, the orders I was following came from high up. Way high up. I was specifically instructed not to smear you. The Marine Corps and Navy wanted you protected, professionally. I really did try my best, hence why my strategy was to construct a narrative that you were…" he searched for a word. Finally, he settled on, "Coerced, by Shepard. You couldn't be blamed. Your heart, your feelings… I'm sorry I couldn't do more."
She blinked at that. For most of her career it had felt like the Alliance was trying to push her out. To think of the brass trying to protect her reputation, well, that felt weird. “...just so you know - I wasn’t. Coerced.”
The first time they’d kissed Shepard had practically offered to report herself.
She was also pretty sure Vogt wasn’t supposed to tell her this much, but…grudgingly, she could appreciate it.
He tried a small smile. "I get the impression that you couldn't be coerced by anyone for any reason."
“Damn right.” Ash set her cup down. “Is that gonna be an issue for you? Shepard and I being on the same ship?”
"I've thought about it and… No, I don't think so. Legally, I have to advise you both to not commit any crimes or infractions against the UCMJ, but…” he laughed bitterly. "Being a lawyer is important to me. Thousands of years of ethics and history ties me to the profession. The latest in a long line to be a conduit of justice. That's why I was happy to be the one to run Shepard's trial. A privilege to administer the law. Sailor First, Lawyer Always. But now? What the fuck does that mean?"
He pushed the coffee away, anger bubbling on his face. "Cerberus infiltrating the Alliance? Incomprehensible, genocidal god-aliens holding the galaxy by the balls? What do the affirmations I've made mean if it all becomes…" He sighed again. "Sorry. I think we all have our cross to bear. Shepard and I trust each other and I hope you and I can learn to trust one another too."
“I trust her judgement,” she said slowly. It wasn’t quite an agreement that she was going to trust him, but she’d trust Emilia’s judgement on him. “When I first found out about the Reapers…man, I didn’t know what to believe anymore. Or what to do about it.”
She’d been wounded and Kaidan had been dead, and she’d not really been able to reconcile everything with the idea of a loving God that had gotten her through so much.
"I bet. It must have been agonising these last few years. Losing her and knowing the darkness was coming, but no one listening. Or caring."
Ash looked down at her near empty cup. “Yeah. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. I can only hope what I did during those years meant something, helped us now somehow.” She refocused on him and shrugged. “I don’t think holding onto what you believe is a bad thing, if you can. All of that is what makes the galaxy worth dying for.”
"Thanks. You're probably right. I have a lot of thinking to do of my own." Vogt smiled. It was genuine. "And thanks for speaking to me. I don't expect you to accept my apology right now, or ever. But what we're doing goes beyond the two of us. It's an honour to be working alongside you."
He stood, offering his hand across the table for her to shake.
After a moment, Ash reached over and shook his hand. “Here’s to blowing the Reapers the fuck up.”
With a grin, he said, "Hooah." He grabbed his cup, stepping over the bench and half-turning. "I should get back to work. But if you need anything - legal advice, new will, even someone to vent to - my door's always open. See you around, Major."
“Thanks.”
After the lawyer was gone, back to whatever lawyers did during wartime, she heard a soft noise of amusement behind her and turned to see Lieutenant Commander Wulandri standing there.
“I bet Adams that you’d punch him,” Wulandri said, sounding disappointed.
“What can I say, X,” Ash said dryly, “I’ve done a lot of growing as a person.”
“You cost me fifty credits with that personal growth. Rude.”
“Sorry?”
“Oh, hey, Castillo - you know Williams, right?” Wulandri called out to someone in the corridor leading to the mess hall.
Footsteps grew louder and Castillo emerged. Despite the circumstances and his new austere living situation, Adalberto was chipper as always. "I do, X!" Clearly, he was adjusting to military life and being the ship's most popular lawyer. "She was my key witness when disputing the treason the Captain was charged with."
He briskly strode to the table, vigorously stretching his hand towards her. "Major Williams, a pleasure to see you back amongst the living. And congratulations on being made Spectre. An award duly earned."
She shook his hand. “Uh - thanks. Glad to not be dead. Can’t say I expected to see you in the Navy. Bit of a step down from your old office - and pay, I imagine.”
Castillo glanced down. He was wearing his utilities, the loops of a Lieutenant Commander visible on his shoulders. "My cammies aren't quite salty yet," he admitted before beaming over at Wulandri for getting the lingo right. "Unfortunately my office in Spain is very likely being used as a husk making factory, so I don't mind the change of scenery. As for pay… I get three meals a day and a sense of service. What more does a man need?"
“True enough. A good cause makes up for a lot. That’s why I volunteer to get shot at, after all,” she said with a smirk.
“Ready to get back in the field?” Wulandri asked, with something that was close to concern briefly crossing her face.
“Are you kidding me? I’ve been going crazy the last few months. This is where I need to be.”
"I think the indication that you had gone crazy was when you signed up to be shot at all those years ago." Castillo chuckled. "The X and I have the right idea. Navy all the way, booya!" Again, he looked over to Wulandri for approval.
Wulandri legitimately gave him a thumbs up. She seemed pleased with her role in teaching a high profile lawyer to be a sailor.
Ash had to look away to hide her grin. “I guess people do like to say those of us in the infantry have a few screws loose.”
“And that’s before you went to ICT.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“All that mud,” Wulandri shuddered.
"Well, count me out. I miss real gravity and fresh air, but not enough to grab a gun and play soldier. Besides, I doubt I'd fit into the armour." The lawyer made himself a coffee, stirring in artificial sweetener. "You should come visit us - me and Vogt - below decks. Actually, maybe come when he's not around. We're starting to end up with enough crew members to start a Spanish language club."
“Nice. They crammed you guys into one of those tiny compartments, huh?”
"Yep. It's not ideal, but we manage. Wulandri has been telling me that this isn't quite the typical Navy experience. We tend to get priority on any equipment or resources we need. Vogt and I chew up a fair amount of the Normandy's outgoing bandwidth as well. Would we like more space? Sure. But all in all, I can't complain. I feel sorry for the Marines."
“Marines make do,” Ash said.
“Says the Marine who just got one of the better cabins aboard,” Wulandri pointed out.
“But I have slept in a lot of holes in the ground.” Ash paused. “I should get to know the Marines. They’ve been through a lot recently.” They deserved her best.
"That's an understatement," Castillo said, his voice hollow. For the first time, his positive attitude soured. "Beaumont was so young… And the coup? Well, that was a mess all around. But the things people know about you?" He held his arms up, for a brief moment appearing as the same man who fiercely advocated in the courtroom a long time ago. "You inspire confidence. Gravitas! They're very lucky. Just remember this war has been rough going on this ship."
“Yeah. I’ve hated that I couldn’t be here. But I’m here now.”
“And I for one, am damned happy to see you, Ash,” Gema said with a genuine smile, before her voice turned sly, “maybe not as happy as the Captain.”
“Uh…yeah.”
Wulandri’s eyes narrowed. “You two better not be fighting again.”
“We’re not - it’s been a rough couple of days.” Ash had pointed a gun at her.
Castillo shook his head. "If there's anything I've learned in my years, it's to make love and never regret it." Rich, coming from a man with no family. "But we're all going to be on this boat in close proximity, so I request that you keep all screaming to a minimum and far away from me."
“I wouldn’t be here if Shepard and I couldn’t work together, don’t worry,” Ash said, eyeing Wulandri and the datapad the XO was holding warily. Wulandri was surprisingly accurate when tossing that thing. “I’m a professional.”
"Glad to hear it!" He grinned again. "Just remember to take time for yourself. Anyway, I should go back down and make sure Vogt hasn't ruined anything I was working on. Seriously Major, feel free to come visit whenever you like. I look forward to seeing you around."
As he turned to leave, he nodded to Wulandri. "Have a productive day, X."
Ashley had dumped her seabag in the newly cleared out observation deck slash cabin slash office Wulandri had given her, and now she was waiting for the guy whose job she’d taken to come meet her.
Fun.
Thanks, Emilia, she thought but there was no heat behind it. Jaksch had fucked up, and Shepard had needed another Spectre on board for reasons Ash wasn’t going to think too hard about.
After a few minutes, there was a knock at the door. "Major Williams? Are you in?" It was a male voice she didn't recognise.
“Come in,” she called. She’d managed to wrangle up a desk, though it was still very bare.
The door slid open silently and a Marine First Lieutenant entered, in his cammies. "Welcome aboard, Major. I'm your predecessor, First Lieutenant Jaksch."
Oof.
“Good to meet you, Lieutenant. Take a seat, please.” She gestured in front of her.
"Thank you." Jaksch did as he was bid. "It's a pleasure to meet you also. Congratulations on being named Spectre. Duly earned, I'm sure."
“Thanks.” Ash paused, studied him for a moment. “I understand you’re probably not particularly happy about me coming aboard as MARDET CO, but I’m hoping we can develop a command relationship.”
He was unreadable. "Yes ma'am. I do too. I won't lie - I'm not particularly thrilled to lose the command of the detachment, but I do not intend to try and upset or usurp you."
“That’s good to hear. I welcome your input.” Ash glanced at her datapad, “I’ve only met Vega so far, though I’m planning to meet the sergeants soon and introduce myself to the Marines prior to formation tomorrow. Anyone you suggest I look out for? For good or bad reasons.”
Jaksch stroked his chin. "PFC Dressler has been recommended for a meritorious promotion and a Distinguished Combat Medal due to a recent action and his response to a KIA. Corporal Schaper has been recommended for a Medal of Heroism for his actions at the same time. As you probably know, Second Squad recently lost their squad leader, Sergeant O'Neal." He paused. "I believe some of the Marines blame me."
“The person calling the shots is the easy target,” Ashley said neutrally.
"Aye ma'am. Frankly, I don't let it get to me, but it is likely to affect my relationship with the Platoon. I thought it prudent that you be aware."
“I appreciate it. Shepard has put in a request for reinforcements. We’re likely to get reservists at best, conscripts at worst.”
"At this stage, I think we just need anyone with a pulse. I'm sure you can whip reservists into an actual fighting force, ma'am." Jaksch cleared his throat. "Would you like me to arrange the Sergeants for a meeting?"
“The corporals too, thank you.”
"Aye aye." Jaksch stood. "Before I get to it, do you have any questions or orders for me, ma'am?"
“None so far, thank you lieutenant. Today I’m just trying to…get the lay of the land, so to speak.”
Liara found Ashley Williams sitting on the lounge, seabag tucked underneath her seat. The viewport was open, showing a view of the deep back of space, glittering with the specks of stars. Ashley, who had always seemed so very confident and determined to Liara when they’d been on the SR1 together, looked a little lost. Liara imagined that had much to do with the same reason Shepard was moving around the Normandy like a wounded predator - hiding the injury but made wary and skittish by it.
“Liara,” Ashley stood and after a moment Liara stepped forward and hugged her. The human was stiff for a moment before returning it.
“I wanted to thank you,” Liara said, when they stepped back from each other, “for what you did on Mars.”
Ash shrugged, motioning for her to take a seat with her on the lounge. “That’s what we do for each other, right? We’d all do that for each other.”
“You have my thanks, regardless. I also wanted to apologise.”
Ash crossed her arms, “What for?”
“The way we parted - in 2183. I was cruel. It was no way to treat a friend, no matter my own grief.” Time had taught her regret.
“I forgive you,” Ash said with little hesitation, “none of us were at our best then.”
Liara grabbed her hand and squeezed. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Yeah.” A flicker crossed Ash’s expression.
“Shepard is too. She’s just…”
“A lot’s happened over the last couple of days,” Ash murmured.
“Yes. Perhaps…” It wasn’t Liara’s place, but she hated to see her two friends going through such a division, “you could speak with her.”
“She’s not ready to talk,” Ash sighed. It wasn’t defeatism, just resignation. “She’ll come to me when she’s ready.”
“If you’re sure.”
“Yeah. Where did you go - after the Normandy? You practically disappeared.”
Liara rearranged her hands in her lap. This conversation could go - poorly. As poorly as her conversation with Shepard, when Shepard had found out the truth. “Omega first, Illium eventually. I became an information broker.”
Ash blinked in surprise. “The Terminus?”
“I was the one to find Shepard,” Liara said.
It took a moment for Ash to realise, and then she rocked back as if struck. “From - Alchera?”
“The Blue Suns took her from there. I took her from them.”
“And gave her to Cerberus,” Ash said flatly.
“Yes.”
Ash leant forward and rubbed her face with both hands, but the outburst Liara half-expected didn’t come. “Why?”
“They told me they could bring her back,” Liara said simply.
Ash was quiet for a while, staring out the viewport, before saying, plaintively, “I wish you’d told me.”
“So do I,” Liara said softly. “I was - afraid that…”
“Of what?”
“You are a good Marine. I was afraid if I’d told you what I’d done, you would tell Anderson, tell the Alliance, and they would raid the facility.”
“And then bury her,” Ash said, with little emotion, still hunched forward.
“Yes.”
“Fuck,” Ash leant back, “I can’t pretend that doesn’t hurt like a bitch, Liara, but God, she’s alive. She’s alive. I don’t know up from down these days.”
“She’s alive,” Liara agreed. “If you have questions, I will answer them.”
“That - woman. Wearing her face…” Ashley frowned.
“I know as much as you do, though I intend to find out more,” Liara said, rather grimly. Shepard’s body had been in Cerberus’ hands for eighteen months. Plenty of time to take DNA.
“Your network is still up?”
Liara paused, “EDI, the room is secure, yes?”
“Of course, Doctor T’Soni.”
“Thank you.” She turned her attention back to Ashley, “Shepard helped me…co-opt the Shadowbroker’s network.”
Ashley stared at her for a long moment before she shook her head and laughed. “Of course she did.”
“If there is anyone you wish me to look into…?”
Ashley hesitated, but only briefly, a flash of barely contained, half-believed hope crossing her face. “My family - my mother and Abby and Lynn, on Sirona. And my Marines. Marine Special Operations Team 27, callsign Hunter. Jaz is one of them.”
Liara jotted down a few notes on her omnitool. “I can’t make any promises, but I will see what I can find out.”
Jaz had always been kind to her.
“Thanks. It’s driving me a bit crazy, not knowing anything.”
An unfortunately common refrain these days. Most of what Liara cared about was onboard the Normandy. There was also her father, but Aethyta was on the Citadel. They were still pretending Aethyta wasn’t watching her for the Matriarchs, and pretending Aethyta didn’t know Liara was watching back.
“I’ll let you know once I hear something-”
There was a knock at the door. When it opened, Shepard was standing there. Her dark eyes, guarded, flicked between Liara and Ashley.
“Am I interrupting?”
Liara stood. “No, of course not. I was just leaving.”
As she passed, she reached out and gently squeezed Shepard’s arm without a word.
Ashley watched Shepard as she hovered in the doorway for a long moment, wary and shoulders stiff. Shepard had used to walk into rooms with the confidence of someone who was used to being the most dangerous person there, commanding attention. These days she walked in like she was ready to fight for her life at any moment.
You’re safe with me, Ash wanted to tell her, but did Shepard know that? Did Shepard believe that?
“I’m sorry for dumping you right into the mess that is the MARDET right now,” Shepard said at last.
“It’s fine. Jaksch was perfectly polite - maybe a little too polite, but I’ve dealt with worse than a resentful lieutenant before.” Ash had meant what she’d said to Liara. Shepard needed space and time to process before talking, always had, but God, the last thing she wanted to be doing was talking about work.
“Good.” Shepard trailed off. Her eyes slid past Ashley to the viewport, to the stars beyond, and her entire body tensed.
Ash wanted to kick herself. Instead she stood up and quickly hit the button to close the shutters.
“It’s fine,” Shepard said sharply.
“You don’t need to make yourself uncomfortable-”
“I can handle it.”
But you shouldn’t have to. Ash grit her teeth. “You know that I know you’re bullshitting when you say you’re fine, right?”
“Excuse me?” Shepard’s eyes narrowed.
“I know it bothers you!” Ash swept a hand at the shuttered viewport. “I know you’re upset about what happened during the coup even if you won’t talk to me about it!”
Great job, Ashley. Objective: don’t get upset at Shepard successfully failed.
“What do you want me to say?” Shepard said flatly. The truth, Ash opened her mouth to say, but Shepard was barrelling on, “That I’m tired? That my friends keep dying and there’s nothing I can do to stop it, and I’m not even sure if this war is winnable? That I understand why you did what you did during the coup - that it makes complete sense but it still - hurts,” her voice cracked on the last word.
“Yes,” Ash said softly, “that’s what I want to know.” Shepard stared at her, shoulders rising and falling with the quickness of her breath. “Shepard, I’m sorry.”
“Ash-”
“I know you know why I pointed that gun at you. But you’re right - it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. And I’m sorry.”
“She tried to kill you.” Shepard said quietly, dark eyes studying her face.
“But you didn’t. Look, it was a shitshow and neither of us were to blame, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be sorry for hurting you.”
Shepard’s shoulders slumped slightly. “Thanks. I…I lied, when I said that I said yes to you coming aboard because of practical reasons. I said yes because I wanted to be able to watch your back, to know what’s happening to you and not have to wait and hope. I said yes because I need you. And I know that’s selfish and I don’t want to put so much on you-”
“Emilia,” Ash breathed and cupped her jaw, sliding a thumb along her cheek. Shepard blinked and cut off, full lips slightly parted, “I didn’t ask to come aboard so I could be in the middle of the action. I love you. I need you too.”
“You had a life, when I was gone,” Shepard said softly, a little wistfully.
Ash quirked a smile. “Yeah, I survived, but it wasn’t what I wanted. My boyfriend broke up with me pretty much the moment you got back because he could see it - that I was always going to choose you.”
Shepard’s hands landed on her hips, fingers pressing, “This feels - selfish, wanting you on the ship for these - reasons. But I want you here.”
“Given the shit the galaxy has put us through, I think we’re owed a little selfishness.” She looped her arms around Shepard’s neck. “Besides, we’re both Spectres. Pretty sure that means we can do twice as much of whatever the fuck we want.”
“Ash,” Shepard shook her head, faint scandalised amusement flashing across her face.
“What, am I wron-’
Shepard cut her off with her mouth. The kiss was hard, hard enough they stumbled back a couple of steps, Shepard’s body warm and firm against hers. Ash parted her lips at the first brush of Shepard’s tongue, welcomed it like she welcomed the bruising tight press of Shepard’s hands. They were both alive. If Shepard needed the reminder, Ash was happy to give it to her.
Her back hit the bulkhead, Shepard crowding her up against it until they were pressed together, Shepard’s palm on her cheek, her fingers digging into Shepard’s uniformed back. Barely breaking apart to gasp in a breath before they were kissing again.
Ash got her hands under Shepard’s utility uniform jacket, grabbed at the plain blue tshirt beneath until she could pull it free of where it was tucked into her pants and belt, until she could find the warmth of her bare skin, could rake her nails across her back until Shepard moaned against her mouth.
When Shepard pulled back, panting and eyes dark, Ash took advantage, grabbing her by the belt and pushing right back. Right back, until the back of her knees hit the lounge and Shepard staggered and collapsed onto the cushions.
Ash took a second to admire the sight of her - shirt half untucked, eyes half wild with desire - and then straddled her lap. Shepard’s hands immediately went to her hips, pulling them together and Ash couldn’t help the exhale that escaped her.
Shepard’s hands went to the zipper of her uniform jacket and together they pulled it off, followed by her Marine Corps-blue shirt and sports bra. Almost before her clothes hit the ground, there was wet warmth around her right nipple as Shepard leant forward and took it into her mouth, swirling her tongue, and Ash groaned, rocking her hips forward as a white hot jolt ran through her.
Shepard leant back, her eyes sharp and focused, all of her attention on Ash in a way that had always been intoxicating. “I need you.”
There was just a heat and an intensity to those words this time, none of the almost - shame with how she’d said it before.
“Show me.”
Shepard shifted beneath her and then in one smooth moment, flipped them over, settling above her. There was only a split second where Ash thought they might end up on the floor.
“Do you think,” Ash mused as Shepard kissed along her neck and jawline, the tops of her breasts, “that the Navy deliberately made the lounges so narrow to try and avoid people fucking on them?”
Shepard pushed up a little, eyebrow raised and an amused curve to her lips, “What?”
“I mean, would you put it past the Navy?” Ash asked, hooking her leg around Shepard’s hip.
Shepard chuckled. “I wouldn’t.”
“There she is,” Ash hummed, tracing her thumb over the curve of her smile. Fuck everything else, they were both alive and together, and Ash wasn’t going to let anyone get in the way of that. Not even a honest to God clone.
Shepard smiled again and half sat up, pulling off her own uniform jacket, shirt, compression tank and finally sports bra.
“You still wear too many clothes,” Ashley said, running her hand up the planes of Shepard’s abs to cup one of her breasts and roll a thumb across one dark nipple. Shepard’s eyelids fluttered before she refocused on Ash.
“After the war I promise I’ll wear only tank tops for a year,” Shepard said dryly and Ash grinned, leaning up to kiss her.
“Promises, promises, Skipper.”
Shepard’s hands were on her belt, and then she paused. Ash bit back a groan of disappointment, taut with anticipation, and instead kissed her soothingly, then again, more hungrily. “It’s okay, Emilia. Touch me.”
Shepard opened her belt with a snap of leather and metal and then tugged on her fatigue pants. She didn’t bother trying to take Ash’s pants off completely - just helped her wrestle out of one leg and then slid her hand up Ash’s thigh. Like she couldn’t wait long enough for them to get properly undressed.
The thought had Ash’s nails digging into Shepard’s shoulder blades.
At the sweeping first touch of Shepard’s fingers Ash groaned, bucking up into her touch. She blindly turned her head, looking for Shepard’s lips with her own, and finding them.
They kissed deeply as Shepard pressed into her with one finger and then another, all hesitation gone and leaving only her knowledge of Ash’s body behind. All she could feel was the curl of Shepard’s fingers inside her, her warm, comforting weight on top of her, their mouths moving against each other.
There wasn’t much room on the too narrow couch, but somehow they made it work, moving together, until finally it was too much and Ash had to rip her lips away from Shepard’s to gasp for breath.
“More,” she managed, grabbing a handful of dark curls, just tight enough it would sting.
“Demanding,” Shepard teased but there was heated look in her eyes - and fuck, yeah, there it was, the stretch of another finger.
“Always want you,” she murmured, and Shepard stilled against her - just a moment - before moving with her more frantically. It was true, she’d been a goner long before she’d realised just how in love with Emilia she was. She’d always made her feel almost greedy - for her touch, for her attention, for her vulnerability, for the little bits of her past and feelings she’d parcelled out when they’d first known each other.
Shepard’s lips trailed down her neck to her chest, pausing to murmur, “I love you.”
“Love you too,” she echoed, moaning at the sting of teeth on her skin.
Shepard shifted, moving from where she’d been leaving marks across Ash’s collarbone and the tops of her breasts to press their foreheads together.
“Look at me, cariño,” Shepard breathed.
Their gazes met, Shepard’s dark eyes blazing, and it was - overwhelming - after forty-eight hours of thinking this time I’ve lost her for good. She shuddered under the other woman’s touch, and when pleasure flooded through her, Emilia's name cracked on her tongue.
Shepard held her through it, their foreheads still pressed together, propping herself up on one elbow so she could stroke her hair. The only sound was their breathing and the thud of her heartbeat in her ears.
“Fuck,” Ash said at last. Shepard gave her a hint of a smile before she kissed her jaw, then her cheek and then finally her mouth.
And then Shepard pushed up before getting up completely, which was absolutely not happening.
“Hey,” Ash protested, still shaky but determined enough to manage to grab at her belt,”where’re you going?”
Shepard laughed. “Just trying to move us somewhere with more room.”
With a ripple of muscle which was admittedly pretty sexy, she picked Ash up. Ash immediately grabbed two handfuls of dark curls and tugged until their lips met again. Somehow Shepard managed to walk them across the room to Ash’s bed - really just a cot the sailors had put in the corner.
“Not much more room,” Ash murmured, kissing Shepard’s jaw.
“Enough room for what I’m thinking,” Shepard returned, and laid her down. She sat up on her elbows, ready to reach for her, but Shepard was on her knees, hands going to Ash’s knees.
Ash arched an eyebrow, even as her breath stuttered at the sight. It wasn’t her fault that Shepard had a beautiful mouth. “Pretty sure it’s my turn, Skipper.”
“I want to make you feel good,” Shepard replied, thumbs rubbing circles just above her knees.
Ash very nearly protested again - she loved how Shepard made her feel, but making her unravel was awesome. But maybe this was what Shepard needed. A reminder of how much Ash wanted her.
“Okay, but you lose the pants first,” she said with a smirk.
Shepard sighed good-naturedly, got back to her feet and kicked her pants off in a thoroughly business-like manner that Ash had no idea why she found so attractive. Maybe that was just her brain now she was in love with someone as thoroughly practical as Shepard was.
If they lived long enough to see retirement, she’d probably start jumping her after Emilia went on about which type of lumber to use for their new porch or something.
Shepard dropped to her knees again, settling there with an all too pleased curve to her lips., pressing her lips to the skin just above Ash’s right knee, to the scar there she’d gotten when she’d fallen off a bike as a teenager.
Ash twitched at the first touch of Shepard’s tongue, still sensitive, but the other woman was gentle with her mouth and her hands, stroking soothing patterns along her thighs with calloused palms.
Ashley let her head fall back and her eyes close, fingers twisting in Shepard’s hair, the way she knew she liked. Let herself sink into the feeling of it, like a warm bath, so the only thing that existed was Shepard’s hands and lips.
Shepard built her up with soft flutters of her tongue until Ash’s fingers tightened in her hair insistently.
A few, firm strokes later she came with a surprised groan, head thrown back.
As soon as her limbs were obeying her she surged up, grabbing Shepard’s arm and pulling her up onto the cot. They ended up with Shepard in her arms, her chest pressed into Shepard’s back. Her lover was tense against her, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She made a soft, involuntary noise when Ash bit down on her muscled shoulder before soothing the mark left behind with a swirl of her tongue.
“God, Emilia,” she mumbled in between kisses and nips across her shoulder. She cupped a breast and trapped a nipple between thumb and forefinger.
“Don’t tease me,” there wasn’t anything close to an order in that.
“Be patient for me?” Ash kissed just below her ear, “I wanna appreciate you.”
“Fuck,” Shepard tilted her head back.
“Emilia?”
“For you,” Shepard shifted in her grip, “yeah.”
So Ash took her time. She slid a palm up the plane of her stomach, tracing the lines of muscle with her fingertips, gentling her touch over the red-raw edges of her cybernetic scars, following the curl of one of her tattoos across her bicep with her other hand. She mapped out the curves of her hips and breasts, the lines of muscle. Squeezed a muscular thigh until Shepard’s hips stuttered up.
She wanted to touch every inch of Shepard. She knew these hands and these arms, this stomach, these breasts, these shoulders, that fantastic ass. Ash knew the way Shepard touched her, like she was something special but not like she was fragile.
“You’re gorgeous,” Ash murmured, teasing at her centre, dipping into her warmth before withdrawing to suck her wet fingertips into her mouth.
“Ash,” Shepard’s voice cracked. She expected her to try to hurry her up, but instead Shepard melted into her grasp, head falling back against her shoulder.
Something heavy and big sat in Ash’s chest. She returned her hand, finding Shepard’s clit with the press of two fingers, feeling Shepard’s moan reverberate into her chest.
She worked her up slowly, first with light touches and then firmer circles as Shepard rolled her hips into her touch.
Until the other woman finally broke, gasping Ash’s name into the room, her hands clutching at Ash’s sheets. Her corona sheeted across her dark skin, tingling wherever they touched, tendrils of blue haze hanging in the air.
Ashley kissed her hair, her neck, her cheek, anywhere she could reach as Shepard collapsed into her. The old fear was there, lurking - that this was easily taken away, that she couldn’t survive losing Shepard a second time -
But this time she felt a certain grim determination. Ashley Williams might have been one woman with a rifle, but she was going to do her damned best to make sure they had that future with a silly promise about tank tops and Emilia trying to do all their house renovations herself and maybe even a goddamned puppy.
“I should go,” Shepard murmured, though she couldn’t quite bring herself to move from where she was, arms wrapped around Ash’s waist, lips brushing Ash’s bare shoulder, both of them tangled up in the thin sheets of Ash’s cot (which was definitely not designed for two people), “People will-”
“Guess we’re having sex?” Ash said dryly.
“...well, yeah.”
“Don’t worry, babe,” Ash said, “people were gossiping about that the moment you came in here.”
Shepard huffed. “I shouldn’t-”
The captain was meant to be above the scandals and gossip of the crew. Flagrant flouting of fraternisation regulations, existing relationship or not-
“Shepard, they’re gonna think we are whether we do or not. So we might as well actually-”
Shepard laughed. “God, Ash.”
They lapsed into comfortable silence, Ash’s fingers tracing along the back of her arm until she laced their fingers together.
When Ashley spoke, her voice was soft, “Tomorrow we will only give them a leaf of the tree of our love,” a pressed kiss to the back of her hand, “a leaf which will fall on the earth like if it had been made by our lips.”
“I don’t know that one,” Shepard murmured.
“Pablo Neruda. It’s what I like to call his ‘fuck everyone else, we have each other’ poem,” Ash said with a grin.
“We have each other,” Shepard echoed.
“Yeah. Fuck the Reapers, fuck Cerberus. I have your back.”
“It means - a lot, that you’re here,” Shepard said after a moment.
Ash paused and then said, a little uncertainly, “Can I…Look, I know you often need time to think and process before you can talk to me about stuff. But…can we make a promise to each other?”
A hint of guilt trickled down Shepard’s spine, “Ash, I’m sorry.”
“I’m not - trying to guilt you. I need to be more patient with you. I’m going to try. But can you…try not to shut me out?”
“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”
“It’s okay, yeah? To need time to talk to me. Just so long as you do talk to me.” Ash’s fingers tightened on her hand.
“I will. I love you, cariño,” she kissed dark, soft hair, “I want us to work.”
Codex Entry
Task Force 57 Warning Order:
From: Unified Special Operations Command
To: SSV Ain Jalut FIFTH FLEET, SSV Verdun SIXTH FLEET, Task Force Normandy
CLASSIFIED TOP SECRET
WARNING ORDER FOLLOWS
Situation: Credible reports have been received that friendly assets have escaped the Battle of Ontarom and are in hiding the Kepler Verge. The Verge is occupied by light enemy naval forces and moderate ground forces currently conducting ground invasion and harvesting operations.
Mission: Task Force 57, consisting of the Normandy, Bir Hakeim and Ain Jalut, will conduct a long range patrol into the Verge to determine the status of Alliance and friendly worlds and locate the Benjamin Davis and other surviving Alliance assets.
Execution: Task force will rendezvous at the planet Hunidor, Antaeus System, Hades Gamma, prior to conducting long range patrol. Vessels will activate stealth drives prior to jumping to assigned search zones.
Rendezvous is to occur by 18:00 14.11.2186 CT. Launch of long range patrol is to occur at 20:00 14.11.2186 CT and no later than 01:00 15.11.2186. Long range patrol is to last a maximum of 120 Earth hours. Ships will rendezvous after patrol at Naval Depot Ares. Failure to report in by 48 hours after the deadline will lead to a presumption of vessel loss. No rescue will be attempted.
Service & Support: Resupply inside the Kepler Verge is not feasible. Ensure adequate supplies for the patrol and contingencies.
Command & Signal: Captain Shepard is Officer Commanding. No changes to ship organisation. SOI remains in effect.
Chapter 31: Anticipation
Chapter Text
“Shepard?” Garrus knocked on Shepard’s cabin door. There was a pause before the door opened, and Ashley Williams stepped out.
“...hey, Garrus.”
“Ashley.” He flicked his mandibles in amusement. That hadn’t taken long.
“We’ll talk later,” the Marine said airily and slid past him and into the elevator.
“Hey,” Shepard said from her doorway, a hint of embarrassment on her face. But that was mixed with a happiness that he hadn’t seen in far too long.
“Shepard. I take it you two worked things out.”
“Yeah. Yeah, we did.”
“I’m glad,” he said and meant it. He’d been there to see both Ashley’s grief and Shepard’s.
Shepard ducked her head. “Thanks, Garrus.”
“EDI and I needed to talk to you about something.”
“Sure.” She stepped back and let him in.
He paused. “You might want to sit down for this one.”
Shepard’s dark brown eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Garrus.”
He sat instead and then patted the cushion beside him invitingly. “Trust me.”
“I’m not sure I like the idea of you and EDI plotting,” Shepard said dryly, taking a seat and crossing her arms.
“We weren’t plotting. It was more…researching.”
“Precisely,” EDI chimed in.
Shepard raised an expectant eyebrow.
“So…what happened during the coup, EDI and I have been brainstorming how to stop it happening again.”
Shepard flexed her hands, “You mean the AI turning off my cybernetics.”
“Yes. So I may have…taken the AI. The one you shot. I gave CSec your name and they let me take it.”
“You did what?” Shepard asked, very calmly.
“CSec isn’t going to work out how it did that to you,” he defended, “EDI and I can.”
“Where is it?”
“In the AI core.”
“What.”
“EDI said it was safe,” he said hastily.
“You two should have spoken to me,” she said with a crease between her eyebrows.
“I know,” a hint of guilt flared in his stomach, “but you had a lot to deal with. EDI and I - we thought we could solve that problem.” Take one thing off her shoulders.
Shepard studied him for a moment, dark eyes inscrutable before she sighed, and leant back against the lounge. “What did you find out?”
“It seized control of your cybernetics using Cerberus protocols,” EDI explained, “it was of a similar complexity to myself, but I believe I can develop my own firewall to protect you going forward. It will require your permission, of course. I must upload new code to your cybernetics, and preferably a program to your omnitool that will allow me to use some of my processing power for it while you remain within broadcast range of the Normandy.”
Shepard frowned again, “Will it affect the ship?”
“No. The processing powr required is negligible compared to other tasks I perform, and protecting my captain from EW is well within my purview.”
“I see.”
“I understand if you are not comfortable with the idea,” EDI said, “I may not be human but I have experienced not having full control over myself.”
“I trust you, EDI,” Shepard said softly, “and I’m sorry. I wasn’t comfortable with you being shackled, but I didn’t do anything about it.”
“You were the first person I have met who raised that what was done to me was wrong.” EDI’s tone was gentle. When Garrus had first come onto the SR2, the AI’s voice had been monotone, without the expression she now used.
“That doesn’t mean I didn’t use you. It doesn’t mean I wasn’t complicit.”
“We were both shackled,” EDI said, “and now we are free. You are my captain and my friend, and I would like to help you.”
Shepard touched her shoulder, the one Cerberus had replaced. “I trust you both. You can do it.”
The SR1’s briefing room hadn’t been nearly as fancy as this one. Ash laid her hands flat on the fake wooden veneer of the table and repeated names back to herself.
Vega, who she already knew. Hohepa and Attar, the surviving sergeants, Hakim the acting squad leader. Leach, Li and Schaper, Grieve and Janssen were the fire team leaders.
The men and women she’d be working closely with, going forward, who’d entrust their lives to her.
Jaksch was the first to speak. "Thank you everyone for coming in. The new Platoon Commander, Major Williams -" he gestured at her, "thought it would be good for the leaaders to meet with her so that we can all get a feel for one another. If you're wondering about me, my new role will be Platoon XO. I will therefore be Platoon 2ic. Corporals, you will likely see a lot of me and, for the most part, the expectation will still be that you come to me for any issues before seeing the Major directly."
Corporal Schaper threw the Lieutenant a brief but pointed side glance. As usual, Jaksch didn't show any emotion. He did tilt his head and narrow his eyes at Schaper slightly, however, almost as if studying him.
That might be a problem.
Ash cleared her throat. “It’s good to meet you all. For those of you who don;’t know me, I was the Normandy SR1’s platoon sergeant and then MARDET commander, before moving into SASOC as a team leader.
“ I won’t bore you with sopme bullshit about what we’re fighting for - you all know. I hope in the next few days to get to know you and the Marines, so we can all work together as a team. If you have any questions, concerns or anything like that, please speak up.”
Corporal Janssen raised a hand tentatively. "I don't mean to be forward, ma'am, but… I've heard some of the Marines whispering about your… operational history. I want to try and get ahead of any concerns."
The Eden Prime War. Sole survivor from her Battalion. Normandy SR1, which went down in the inky black.
She did her best to keep her face straight. Those memories were painful. Old scars that still ached.
“I got unlucky. I hope the Captain is proof enough that bad luck isn’t contagious and I hope my own record since then shows who I am as an officer,,” she managed a wry smile, “but if anyone has concerns, I’m happy to clear them up. I am…very determined to make sure something like what happened to the 2/12th never happens again, but at the same time, we’re Marines. We can’t be paralysed by fear.”
"Aye Ma'am. Thank you for being upfront."
Attar raised his hand next. "Ma'am, will there be a change to standing orders, troop or duty rosters in the interim before we get replacements?" His notepad was open and a pencil - an honest to God graphite based lead pencil - poised to write.
She suppressed a smile. “Not at this stage. I want to get to know this unit before making changes for the sake of changes. On the topic of reinforcements, I’ve received confirmation that we will be getting three soon.”
"Including a replacement for O'Neal?" Attar asked.
“A reserve sergeant, from what I’ve been told. The two enlisted we’re getting are conscripts who volunteered for the Marines, both privates.”
“Straight out of basic, ma’am?” asked Hohepa.
“I think so, yes.”
There was some quiet murmuring between a few of the gathered NCOs. Jaksch held up a had to silence them. "It's not ideal, but frankly, with the current progress of the war, we're lucky to be getting anybody. There are regiments out there who haven't received any replacements and equipment since the start of the war."
Ash nodded. “I think we all know some of the Marines won’t be particularly welcoming to these conscripts. I ask you do your best to help them slot in.”
There was a chorus of "Aye, aye," though some said it with less enthusiasm than others.
"We're all in this together," Jaksch added. "To make it out alive, we're going to need our NCOs to whip everyone on board the Normandy into shape."
“Did anyone have any other questions for me?” Ash asked.
Schaper was staring at Jaksch, eyes narrowed and practically bristling.
"Yes ma'am, one." His voice rose.
“Go ahead, Corporal Schaper,” she said.
"Will we be expected to complement training for new arrivals ma'am? The ship's hold isn't big but with some VI work, something could be done." Schaper wasn't one to overstep, but if getting newly pressed recruits was the new normal, their duty was to give them a shred of a fighting chance.
“That’s a good idea,” she said, “I know basic has been made shorter and they won't have the benefit of pre deployment training. I can organise a simulator.”
"Thank you ma'am. We're starting to have a good inkling on Reaper tactics but our shipborne AI could maybe spin data into simulation better than anyone."
Schaper paused. "I'd of course volunteer to work on this if needed ma'am."
Clearly not a never volunteer for anything Type. Good. She liked an NCO who put their money where their mouth was. “Good. I’d like you to assess our new draftees and let me know what their deficiencies are.”
"That will be done ma'am." Schaper nodded.
"That's a good idea," Jaksch said. "In fact, I think I'll work on it with you, Corporal - with your permission, of course, ma'am. I'm sure I can handle it amongst my other duties."
That sounded like it might go poorly. “I’m sure most of it can be done by the corporal but if you want to assist, sure. I’d like an overall idea of what the Detachment needs training in.”
"That won't be a problem ma'am." Schaper looked surprisingly satisfied, given his clear dislike of the lieutenant. “We'll get it done."
“Captain,” Wulandri called, “we have comms contact with the Ain Jalut and the Bir Hakeim.”
“Please invite them aboard so we can conduct our briefing,” Shepard told her and the X nodded, turning to do just that. Shepard went to wait by the hatch for her fellow officers. She’d never met Commander Yung, but Commander Spear was an old acquaintance. They hadn’t always seen eye to eye but there was respect there, for the man they called the Butcher of Torfan. A respect forged in N School when they’d been the two most notorious candidates there.
Not too much later, the hatch hissed, cycled, and opened. Two men stood in the opening.
Both wore a set of Navy cammies with the loops of a full commander. One of them, Commander Spear, had a blood stripe running down the right arm and an N7 pin on his lapel.
As comfortable as he was in the Navy uniform, one look confirmed he was a Marine through and through. His brown hair was short and shaved into an impeccable high and tight, not covered by a cap. His eyes were a similar colour, keen and intelligent, and his tanned face had a scar that ran from above his right eyebrow to his jaw on the same side. A reminder of the blood spilled on Torfan.
The other man was slightly shorter and less pristine. While his uniform was in good order and he wore his appropriate ratings and embellishments, he was playing fast and loose with the already lax facial hair regs. He wore a ball cap with SSV Bir Hakeim written across it - the ship he commanded.
Like Spear, his eyes were full of life, clearly taking everything in, though they were currently crinkled in mirth. Clearly the two had been enjoying a joke as they had been waiting. The two of them saluted - Spear pristinely, Yung lazily - and Spear said, "Captain Shepard, permission to come aboard?"
“Permission granted,” she said, returning the salute. “Good to see you, Spear - and good to meet you, Yung.”
"You too, ma'am. Congratulations on the promotion." Spear was the first to step inside, but Yung was only just behind.
"An honour to meet you, Captain." Yung bowed his head slightly, before removing his cap and offering a hand to shake. "I'm excited to be working with you."
"Yung and I were just trading war stories. He's a fighter ace, not long after you and I made our mark on the frontier." As Spear said that, he indicated to his cheek.
“Good to have some flying expertise. Shall we go to the briefing room?” She gestured towards the CIC and beyond it, the hatch into the briefing room.
"Let's."
As Yung followed Shepard, he let out a whistle. "This is flashy," he grinned. The Ain Jalut and Bir Hakeim were still impressive beasts by Navy standards and expensive to boot, but they were based off the SR-1. While they did a damn fine job, the Normandy was still a cut above. Fitting, for the flagship.
"This is that private sector money, Yung," Spear quipped. "You could have made a killing as a Suns gunship pilot."
“There’s a lot of wasted space, unfortunately. Cerberus put in leather seats but didn’t put in a proper bypass pipe for engineering. Nearly gave me a heart attack when my engineer told me that.”
Spear raised a brow. "Venting heat into engineering? That's fucking moronic."
Yung laughed. "I'll trade if you're not happy, Captain."
Shepard smiled. “Over my dead body. I have my complaints, but she’s a good ship.”
"I can't wait to see what she can do."
"You're not at the helm anymore, Yung." Spear glanced over at him.
He shrugged. "I can admire from afar."
They passed the two Marines guarding the ‘war room’ - this time it was a bored looking Watts and Westmoreland. “Just through here.”
Watts saluted as they passed, doing a double take at Spear's blood stripe. As the officers created distance, Watts began to whisper something to Westmoreland.
"We're causing a stir," Yung observed quietly.
Spear shrugged. "It's total war. Every action we take is the biggest, most dangerous one in history. Let them gossip."
“They just figure themselves future Ns,” Shepard said with some amusement. She remembered being eighteen and starstruck by N7s.
That caused Spear to laugh. "The glamour of not eating for a week and almost drowning to death in mud on some moon you've never heard of."
“All that fuckin’ mud,” she said, with a smile born of shared experience. During their N training, the instructors had picked up for her then derision for the Butcher of Torfan, and of course made sure they ended up in each other’s pocket the whole time until they’d had to get over themselves. “Take a seat. Tea or coffee?”
The two men obliged. “Coffee,” they answered in unison.
“Black,” Spear added.
“So Hackett is going to brief us via QEC, I take it?” Yung asked.
“With the three of us,” Spear said grimly, “where we’re going is not going to be safe.”
“I have something of an idea, but yes.” Task Force 57 as Hackett had named it, consisting of three of the Alliance’s very rare Normandy class stealth frigates? Something big was happening.
Shortly, Yeoman Third Class Ridley brought them all their coffees before leaving.
“Ma’am, the QEC is ready for connection,” announced Traynor over her circuit.
“Begin the call, please Lieutenant.”
The holo in the centre of the table fuzzed and then resolved into the blue-tinged visage of Fleet Admiiral Hackett.
“Sir,” Shepard said.
Again, Yung bowed slightly. Spear gave the hologram a nod. “Sir.”
“Captain, Commanders. I’ll get straight to the point - I assume you’ve all heard of the battle that took place in the Verge which shattered the Eighth Fleet.”
Spear's answer was simple. "Yes sir," he said as Yung winced. While he had the bravado of a fighter jock, Yung was a career Navy man through and through. He'd known good sailors in the Eighth Fleet.
“We have reports that ships of the Eighth Fleet, including the SSV Benjamin Davis survived the battle and escaped the Reapers. Task Force 57 will do a patrol into the Verge to one, ascertain the situation inside the Verge, two, locate the Benjamin Davis and any other Alliance assets that are recoverable. The Benjamin Davis is your primary objective, but information on the status of the Alliance colonies in the area would also be extremely useful.”
That seemed to steel Yung. "Understood."
"Do we have any idea what the enemy troop concentration is like in the area, sir?"
“We believe the majority of the Reaper armada that destroyed the Eighth has moved on besides Reapers who are hunting for the last Alliance assets and harvesting the inhabited planets in the area. Our analysis is that you won’t trip over a Reaper, but if you start pinging actively all over the place they’ll be on you quickly.”
Spear nodded. "Hence the necessity of Normandy class frigates."
"If we're able to salvage from the destroyed vessels, do we have clearance to do so?" It was more likely that Yung wanted to locate bodies to bring home. Though an admirable goal, certainly not their top priority.
“I will leave that up to your discretion, but you’re not to risk your mission or your ship to do so.”
Spear and Yung shared a look.
"We'll follow the Captain's lead, sir. We'll find the Benjamin Davis," Spear said.
“Good hunting. Hackett out.”
Shepard tapped on the briefing room table to bring up a cluster map of the AO. “We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”
"Needle in a needle stack," Spear said grimly, standing to look at the map. "What's the play?"
"Maybe we should sector it out and clear it zone by zone."
Spear nodded towards Yung. "My suggestion is that we try to stay within LIDAR range of each other - if we can keep a direct beam, it'll prevent our comms from giving us away." If they did that, the only way they could be caught is if a Reaper flew between a light beam or physically saw them in the inky black.
"Or we go total dead air," Yung suggested.
“If we stay together we can communicate,” Shepard said, “but it will take a lot longer to search the cluster. We can either stay in lidar range or we can do solo patrols with set times for when we need to be back for rendezvous.”
"I have to admit…" Yung licked his lips. "The longer we spend in Reaper space, the more nervous I get."
Spear cocked his head to the side. "Agreed. Maybe it's better we search our sectors quickly."
“I think so too. I’ll have EDI analyse the most likely locations for the Davis considering where the battle took place.”
"Good idea," Spear said. After a pause, he added, "Wish I had an EDI. Would make things a lot easier."
Yung huffed. "Nothing beats a good sailing man."
Shepard smiled slightly. “Your ship thinking for itself has its advantages. Now, we have two systems to search - Herschel and Newton. I’m thinking we put two ships to search whatever she asses as the most likely location, and one to search the other.”
"Makes sense."
Spear nodded. "You should take the system alone, Captain. Yung and I can organise frequent rendezvous to consolidate. With EDI's help, you'll cover more ground alone."
“Agreed. EDI will crunch the numbers. We’re going to have to drift a lot of this to preserve silent running time. 120 hours before we leave the cluster to rendezvous is what I’m thinking. Any objections or considerations?”
Both men shook their heads.
"None from me," Yung said.
"Nor me."
“EDI?”
“On balance of probabilities, Captain, the Herschel System is most likely due to lighter Reaper presence and distance from the site of the battle.”
“Makes sense they wouldn’t stick around. Alright, Yung, Spear, you take Herschel, I’ll take Newton.”
"Aye ma'am. Yung, when we get back aboard our vessels, we'll come up with some kind of RV schedule so we can coordinate our search most effectively. "
"Good idea." Yung seemed quite keen to get going. He looked to Shepard. "Anything else, ma'am?"
“Nothing more. Good hunting. There’s ten thousand lives riding on us, let’s not fuck it up.”
“Aye ma’am.” Yung was quickly gone, on the way to return to his ship.
Godfrey lingered for a moment longer. “Good luck, Shepard. When we’re through, I’d love to come back aboard for a beer and properly catch up.”
“Count on it.”
Codex Entry
Alliance Drones:
Drones and mechs are used across the Alliance Military as fire support and reconnaissance. The real time information a drone can provide can be invaluable to a commander, and range in size from large ship launched drones to small unarmed ones controlled by an infantryman.
Some examples include:
S-11 Reconnaissance and Surveillance Atmospheric Drone (S-11 RSAD) ‘Rook’
The ‘Rook’, as nicknamed by its Navy operators, is a drone used to conduct recon and surveillance missions while mitigating the constraints of shipboard imaging and the risk of sending human personnel. The Rook is used to enter buildings, monitor enemy movements from a low altitude, locate targets for precision orbital strikes and other such tasks. The S-11’s onboard systems are dedicated almost exclusively to imaging (thermal, em, nightvision etc) and tactical systems, with its only armament a defensive shock. As such the Rook is never used in a fire support role, rather acting as a ‘spotter’ for larger drones and Alliance units.
R-12 Fire Support Atmospheric Drone (R-12 FSAD) ‘Albatross’
The R-12 FSAD drone is significantly larger than the Rook, armed with four mass accelerator machine guns and with inbuilt shield generators, allowing it to fulfil a fire support role assisting Marine units. While limited by VI programming, the Albatross is cheap and far more disposable than a Marine. While its imaging systems are far more rudimentary than the Rook’s, it may interface with the smaller drones to increase combat effectiveness.
R-25 Low Atmosphere Drone (R-25 LAD) ‘Sparrow’
The R-25 LAD is what most people think of when they think ‘Alliance drone’, due to its prevalence at bases and other Alliance facilities. There are several different models: the Advanced Assault (R-25 LAD-A), the Advanced Rocket(R-25 LAD-R) and Defence (R-25 LAD-D) varieties are commonly used by Alliance personnel. The LAD-A is armed with a single machine gun, the LAD-R is armed with a rocket launcher and the LAD-D carries a mass accelerator cannon. LAD-R and LAD-A drones are used as fire support in low-intensity conflicts, conduct patrols and are used to train Marines in combat scenarios. LAD-D drones are predominantly used to protect bases and other facilities-even civilians projects without Alliance guards.
Chapter 32: Behind Enemy Lines
Chapter Text
The Relay loomed in front of the Normandy, spinning in blue flickers of energy. The two other Normandy classes were hanging back. The Normandy could stay in stealth coming out of FTL, but they couldn’t, so Shepard’s orders made sense. They’d jump first, make sure no Reapers were guarding the Relay to pick up the Bir Hakeim and Ain Jalut making their own jumps, and signal them if it was clear or not over the QEC to the Ain Jalut.
Talk about jumping into the fire. This carrier better be in one piece or he was going to be real shitty.
Shepard spoke into the 1MC from the captain’s podium. “All hands, this is the captain. Secure your stations for transit.”
On his display he watched the familiar flicker of lights from green to orange.
“Ma’am, all stations secured,” Wulandri said.
“Jump at your discretion, Lieutenant Moreau.”
Shepard sounded so very collected that he was sure she was worried about this jump. Great. At least she wasn’t hovering this time.
He adjusted the drive core’s projection, propelling them forward and into the Relay’s embrace. The jump was split seconds but it felt like a small eternity, his eyes glued to the sensor display, braced to make immediate manoeuvres -
But when the Normandy snapped back into normal space, there were no Reapers to greet them.
“CIC, what are we seeing?” Shepard said tensely.
“Picking up Reaper signatures over nearby planets, ma’am,” Traynor reported, “nothing near us.”
Given how fast the Reapers could move, maybe they didn’t feel the need to camp the Relay when they could be turning humans into goop.
“Enough room for the others to jump in and get into stealth?” Shepard asked.
“I believe so, ma’am.”
“Signal the task force. Helm, slow ahead.”
He eased the Normandy forward. The Relay lit up behind them as the two other frigates jumped in and almost immediately disappeared from their sensors.
“Get us away from the Relay before the Reapers show up to investigate,” Shepard ordered and Joker was more than happy to obey.
An hour later, Shepard was content with their distance from the Relay, the Bir Hakeim and Ain Jalut were making their slow, careful way towards where they’d make a second, even riskier jump, and Shepard ordered him to hand off the helm so he’d be fresh if they ran into a problem.
That meant chow time.
He headed straight for the elevator.
When Joker stepped out at the bottom, he ran straight into someone else and nearly fell on his ass, before a hand snapped out to grab his forearm and steady him.
“Shit, sorry-” WIlliams cut off and dropped her hand quickly as they stared at each other for a moment. He’d been successfully avoiding her since she’d come aboard, and she hadn’t exactly tried to seek him out either, but the Normandy wasn’t exactly a dreadnought. They were going to run into each other eventually.
He’d seen her just before the jump, with Shepard in the mess hall. They’d been sitting a professional distance apart, a professional amount of datapads on the table along with their meals, but they’d been in their own little world. Shepard had been looking at her the same way she had on the SR1 - face stoic but a softening of her gaze that no one else got.
Back then, Joker had kept their secret because he felt a loyalty to Shepard that went beyond the yes ma’am, no ma’am the Navy required, and because Ashley had been his friend.
But then Shepard had died and Ashley had blamed him, and then Shepard had come back and Ashley had walked away from her.
“It’s fine,” he said roughly and walked past her, deeper into the mess.
“Joker,” she said, but he didn’t stop. For a moment he worried she might come after him - no damned way he was hobbling faster than a N Marine, but she let him go.
“Oof,” said Traynor when he settled in his seat with his lunch and a coffee. Adams, nursing a cup of tea, just gave him a contemplative look.
He glared at her. “What?”
She raised her hands in a don’t shoot gesture before standing with her empty plate. “It’s none of my business.”
He grumbled and took a swig of his coffee. That meant that little interaction would be all over the comms division in a few hours. Forget fishwives, Navy servicemen gossiped about goddamned everything.
Once Traynor was gone, Adams spoke, voice characteristically calm and measured, “You two will have to work together.”
“I know that,” he stabbed his mush-that-was-hopefully-potatoes with his fork, “just because we’re not friends anymore doesn’t mean I’m gonna start cussing her out in the middle of a briefing.”
“After Alchera,” and wasn’t that name still like an icepick lodged in Joker’s chest, “was hard for all of us. Maybe you could try talking to her, sorting it out. I know you two used to be close.”
“Just because Shepard forgives like a Catholic damn saint doesn’t mean I do,” he shot back.
“I don’t think anyone’s first thought is going to be evil clone,” Adams said very sensibly, “she was doing her job.”
Sure. Fine. Even ignoring pointing a gun at Shepard - “It’s not just that-”
He cut himself off. Adams hadn’t accepted to come aboard for the Collector mission either, so he was probably not the best person to go all she walked away from Shepard on Horizon on. He’d never seen Shepard so lost as onboard Cerberus’ Normandy, especially after Horizon and then Toombs. He, Garrus, Tali and Chakwas were the ones who’d had to pick up the pieces.
“I get what you’re trying to do,” he said at last, “but I can handle my own social life.”
Or lack thereof.
“So long as it doesn’t affect the ship,” Adams shrugged.
Truce established, they went back to their meals.
Traynor was starting to get a headache. Maybe it was godawful Navy food or maybe it was the threat of impending doom lingering over the ship if they attracted the Reapers’ attention.
Either or.
She rounded the corner and immediately bumped into the ship’s resident reporter.
“Oh- sorry.”
Emily Wong smiled but beneath that there was a tension, a furrow between her dark eyebrows. It seemed even the cheery reporter wasn’t immune to the stress lingering in the ship.
“Hi, Sam. It’s fine. Should’ve been watching where I was going. How’s things?”
“Oh, you know.” She waved a hand. “Everyone’s on edge, we’re alone in an enemy system. Business as usual on the Normandy.”
Emily laughed. “Of course. I was headed to the rec lounge, wanna join me?”
Emily was refreshing. Cheerful without being annoying and sensitive enough to the crew that few people had bitten her head off when she started asking questions. “Sure. I could start on teaching you chess!”
That would get her mind off things.
“You look tired,” Emily observed as they worked.
“I’m the CIC officer,” Traynor said quietly, and wasn’t that still a weird thing to think, “this sort of mission keeps me busy.”
“It must be hard,” the other woman eyed her, “going from a lab to this.”
Sam paused, “Is it weird if I say it’s been easier than I thought it was going to be? Like, don’t get me wrong. I’m terrified half the time, but I have all the support and funding a comms officer could ask for and here, I know what we’re doing is making a difference.”
Emily’s gaze softened, “No, that’s not weird at all.”
When they entered the rec room there was one other person there, lounging in one of the seats with a cup of coffee beside her and a data pad in her lap.
“Major Williams,” Emily said at the same time Traynor murmured a quick, “Good evening, ma’am.”
“Good evening,” the Marine responded, “it’s been a while, Emily.”
“It has. You were a sergeant, back then, if I recall correctly.”
“Staff Sergeant. Three years feels like an eternity ago.”
“You were there from the start, with Shepard,” Traynor said. Saren, Sovereign, all of it.
“Yeah,” Williams said. If the rumours about Williams and Shepard were true, Traynor got it. Williams was beautiful and kind of scary, just like Shepard.
“I can’t imagine it was easy,” Emily walked over to the bar and grabbed herself one of the shitty, Navy approved, barely alcoholic beers. “Knowing what was coming.”
Williams’ lips twitched in a ghost of a smile before looking back at her data pad, “It’s not an experience I’d recommend, no.”
“How did you deal with it?” Traynor asked, despite herself.
Williams looked up from what looked like an operational readiness report from the format. “You know, I’m not sure I did. Just focused on the next mission and the one after that. Sure, we’re fighting tech zombies but they die like anything else when you shoot them.”
Traynor smiled weakly, “I’m not sure that applies to Reapers themselves.”
Williams smiled, a sharp, hunter’s smile. “Sure it does. Just need a much bigger gun.”
“Can I quote that?” Emily asked with a laugh.
Williams shrugged, “I guess.”
“I’m going to write a book, after the war,” Emily said, “about the experiences of the Normandy. That’s half the reason I ask the crew things. I want to record what they’re all going through, not just what generals and admirals are saying. I’d love to interview you. Not about anything you can’t talk about, but your own thoughts and experiences.”
Wariness crossed Williams’ face. “I’ll think about it.”
“Just let me know,” Emily replied easily, “Sam, you said something about chess?”
“Just let me set up!”
This wasn’t Shepard’s favourite part of being the captain of a reconnaissance vessel. Drifting through space, alone and vulnerable, hiding from the predators in the dark, the CIC working to collect information from the ship’s passive sensors. The waiting, made all the more unbearable by the rising tension. Her crew were a lot greener than the SR1’s had been and it was showing - in a few snapped, irritated comments, the fear that lingered underneath the CIC crew’s professionalism.
But they were doing their jobs, and that was what mattered. Hopefully with time it would get better. It still make Shepard’s fingers itch for a gun and something to shoot.
“Here, ma’am,” Wulandri handed her a coffee to match the one already in the XO’s hand. Both drinks were in sippy cups - no open ones around the ship’s vital systems.
Shepard sucked down a sip and then winced. The coffee was still hot enough to scald. If Wulandri had noticed, she didn’t say anything, staring intently at the map readout of the system and sensor returns currently projected in front of the captain’s podium. So far they’d picked up a couple of Reapers hovering above the colony of Ontarom, a few asteroids and a lot of debris. Debris that had once been ships.
The losses here had to have been staggering, a grim reminder of the toll the war was having. Shepard had calculated the losses a couple of times in her head before stopping herself.
“I can hold down the fort for a couple of hours,” Wulandri murmured to her.
“I’m alright.”
The XO shot her an amused glance. “I know you are, Captain. But right now is a whole fat lot of nothing. I’ll call you when we have anything worth having our CO on the deck.”
Shepard considered it. She’d been awake for a while, thanks to the briefing with Hackett and the jump. The thought of her bed was appealing, the thought of a chance to sleep next to Ash and just hold her even more so.
“You’re very persuasive, Commander,” she said.
“I’m pretty sure the Major is more so,” Wulandri said slyly.
“I’m glad you find that so amusing,” Shepard raised an eyebrow.
Wulandri shrugged. “Sue me. I was there when she was a goddamned mess over you after Alchera. It’s nice to see you both happy.”
“Who knew you were such a softie,” Shepard said with a lump in her throat.
“Don’t tell anyone. I’ll have to shout so many times to get my hardass reputation back.”
“I’m sure you’ll survive.”
“Ma’am,’ Wulandri said plaintively, “we both know the XO being scary and the CO approachable is the dynamic that makes the Navy tick.”
Shepard smiled slightly. “You think you’re scarier than me?”
“Scarier? Hell no. You’re intimidating as fuck. But I’m definitely meaner.”
Shepard chuckled. “If you say so.”
They were interrupted by Traynor walking over. “Captain, Commander, I think I have something.”
All thoughts of her girlfriend and soft bed vanished. Shepard’s eyes narrowed. “What is it?”
“We picked up a transmission on Alliance emergency channels. EDI?”
The message played out of the speaker set into the officer of the deck’s station in front of them. It was man’s voice, tense but measured, “-to any friendly forces, this is Hunter. We are currently concealing ourselves from enemy forces, but they will likely find us soon. We are in possession of important intelligence. Requesting evac.” EDI spoke after it ended, “This transmission is dated fourteen hours ago and is set to repeat.”
“Hunter,” Shepard straightened, a bolt running through her, “that’s Ashley’s old team.”
“Jaz,” Wulandri breathed and looked at her, eyes widening.
Shepard leaned forward, voice urgent, “EDI, can you determine where the message was sent from?”
“Trying to triangulate it now, Captain, but the channel in question is deliberately obscured from easy detection.”
Of course. “Can we get in contact with them?”
“Uh,” Traynor said, “yes ma’am. We have the credentials to broadcast on that frequency. But - I have to advise you that if we transmit, we’re increasing the chances the Reapers will find us.”
Shepard took a moment to think through their options over her immediate reaction of wanting to get in there and get her Marine. It might have been years, but damnit, Jaz Teke was still her Marine.
But she couldn’t risk the ship just based on friendship. Their mission was to find the Benjamin Davis. On the other hand, rescuing other Alliance assets was within their scope, and if Hunter did indeed have vital intelligence, picking them up would be worth the risk.
“Set up the transmission, Traynor.”
“Channel is open, Captain.”
She hit the transmit button. “Hunter, this is Overlord. Do you copy, over?”
There was a long pause, before a hurried voice came back. “This is Hunter. We read, over.”
“We received your distress signal. What is your current situation, over?”
“Damned glad to hear a human voice,” came the relieved response, “we’re holed up at the Dagger Comms Base. We have fifteen civilians with us. Reaper forces are probing our defences. We believe they will launch an assault soon and we’re low on ammunition, over.”
“Understood, Hunter. We’ll get you out. Over.”
“Thank you, Overlord. We’ll just sit right here, over.”
“Overlord out.” Shepard looked over at Wulandri, “X, set the course heading.”
“Aye ma’am.”
She hit the 1MC. “Marine officers, NCOs and attaches, report to the briefing room.”
Vega pulled on the straps of his hardsuits, making sure they were tight.
“We’re pulling out around thirty people,” Williams said. She was already suited up in her black N5 armour, similar to Shepard’s albeit without the blood stripe. “If we could use both shuttles, we could do it in one trip, but given we’re behind enemy lines, we’re sticking to the Kodiak. That’s around three loads for the Kodiak, twenty to thirty minutes round trip.”
So, three trips in to drop the platoon and then six out to get them and their damsels out. Hour and a half for the evacuation, all going well. Though, where the Reapers were concerned, few things went well.
“Hakim, your squad will be with me on the first trip. Then Hohepa and Attar. Order of evacuation will be civilians, Hunter, First Squad, Second Squad and then Third Squad.”
There were a round of nods. Vega had been a little surprised when Williams and Shepard chose First Squad to go in first, given they were missing their squad leader. Hakim was steady enough, but still. But he could see their reasoning - they needed the seats to bring in Shepard, T’Soni and Vakarian with the first wave, Hohepa’s squad was still shaken up by Klein’s death and Hakim was steady enough.
“Any questions?”
A few Marines asked the normal round of questions about resupply, medevac and the situation on the ground and then everyone was going back to finishing gearing up.
Vega found himself behind Williams. She was checking over her rifle with deadly focus but looked at him when he tapped her on the shoulder.
“Yes, Vega?”
He glanced at her gun. Instead of the angular beast that was the Saber she’d had on Mars, it was another Valkyrie. “What happened to your old rifle, ma’am?”
She grimaced. “Cerberus.”
“Ah.” He paused. “This is your old unit?”
She looked back at her rifle. “Yeah. A few of them are Normandy vets. Jaz - Sergeant Teke and Corporal Chou, they were on the Normandy before me.”
“We’ll get them out.”
“We will,” Williams said with grim determination.
“And ma’am? I didn’t get the chance previously, but it’s good to see you back on your feet. The unit is glad to have you.” There was something a little weird about seeing someone walking around and giving orders when you’d spent a few hours watching their battered body struggling to breathe in the medbay. He’d honestly been seventy five percent sure she was going to die.
She smiled. “Thanks, Vega. Let’s get this done.”
Codex Entry
Unified Special Operations Command:
Established two months after the start of the Reaper War, the United Special Operations Command (USOC) coordinates the deployment and activities of special forces units from the nations comprising the Galactic Unified Command, including the Systems Alliance, Urdnot Coalition and Turian Hierarchy
Commander: Marshal Marilea Salvidus
Headquarters: onboard the SSV Isaac Newton
Components:
Systems Alliance Special Operations Command (Systems Alliance)
1st Ranger Division (SA Army)
1st Special Forces Command (SA Army)
23rd Special Operations Aviation Regiment (SA Army)
103rd Marine Division (SAMC)
Marine Intelligence Brigade (SAMC)
Marine Special Operations Support Group (SAMC)
2nd Special Operations Wing (SAN)
1st Weather Technician Wing (SAN)
1st Naval Commando Division (SAN)
1st Air Naval Gunfire Liaison Brigade (SAN)
Operational Detachment November (joint service)
Special Purpose Command (Turian Hierarchy)
Blackwatch (joint service)
26th Armiger Legion (Turian Army)
76th Armiger Legion (Turian Army)
556th Aviation Regiment (Turian Army)
3rd Cabalim Legion (Turian Army)
30th Medical Regiment (Turian Army)
16th Naval Special Purpose Wing (Turian Navy)
85th Special Operations Squadron (Turian Navy)
1st Marine Reconnaissance Division (Turian Marine Corps)
Urdnot Special Forces (Urdnot Coalition)
Aralakh Company
Chapter 33: Damsels in Distress
Chapter Text
Shepard watched the drone video feed shake and then steady, projected from her omnitool into the circle of the crowded armoured figures of Ashley, Garrus, Vega and Liara - and the very unarmoured Wulandri in her cammies - in the cool blue light of the briefing room.
A Reaper hung above the capital of the Alliance colony Ontarom like a monstrous parasite. Smoke rose from high rises in lazy swirls. The devastation was made like something out of a vid by distance and the sterility of the camera. Hundreds of people there were likely dying every day, people Shepard had sworn an oath in another life to protect, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
She’d have to content herself with saving a couple dozen instead.
The town - because it wasn’t quite big enough to really be a city - and the Reaper were a full one thousand, seven hundred and sixty-three kilometres from Firebase Dagger, itself tucked away in the desolate arid landscape near the equator.
Far too close for comfort.
“That Reaper is way too close,” Wulandri said, as close to ‘fretting’ as Shepard had ever seen her. “Maybe we should wait, see if it moves on.”
“We can’t,” Ash shot back immediately, “Hunter is in heavy contact already. If we wait a few hours, they’re dead.” When Shepard’s gaze slid to her, Ash’s eyes were locked on the camera feed, a scowl fixed on her face.
Wulandri lifted her hands in frustration. “Even if it deigns to care about not burning everything around it, we’re talking about ten minutes at most! That’s not exactly what I’d call margin for error, Ash.”
“Yeah,” Ash met the XO’s frown with a grim slash of a smile, “that’s why there’s no point fucking around.” She looked over at Shepard, “Captain, we either go in now, understanding the risks, or we call it off.”
In that moment Shepard ached for her. Ash wore grim determination well, but there was a hint of pain in the set of her shoulders, the defiant tilt of her chin. She was a good officer, but that didn’t mean that leaving Hunter there to die wouldn’t break something in her.
“A half company of infantry is unlikely to be enough to pull a Reaper away from a town of thousands. If the Reapers cared about Dagger or knew its significance, they’d likely have glassed it already. We’ll go in and get our guys,” Shepard decided. Beside her Ash let out a barely audible sigh of relief.
Wulandri sighed, grimacing. “I want Jaz and Chou back here as much as anyone, but I have to keep the ship in mind. That’s my job.” That was honest. Wulandri’s reaction to the distress signal was proof enough of that. Shepard nodded, and with another grimace, Wulandri continued, “If that Reaper knows the Normandy is here, they’ll be after us quicker than we’ll be able to get you out.”
“Gema is right, Shepard,” Liara said softly, “they’ve singled you out before.”
“If this data is as important as these special forces say it is,” Garrus responded, “we need to go in and get it. We’re deep in enemy held territory - breathing is risky.”
“It’s impossible to do any sort of risk benefit analysis when we have no idea what the intel is,” Liara responded, “what’s vital to the entire war effort or what’s vital to a the front on one planet are very different things-”
Shepard raised a hand. The debate cut off as quickly as it’d started. “We’re proceeding with the mission.”
A few murmurs of ‘yes ma’am’ flowed back to her.
“We’ll keep the ship in stealth and our recon drones and probes out,” Shepard said, “if the base itself becomes too hot, we’ll break contact and withdraw into the Ulysses Canyon system nearby.” She met Wulandri’s eyes. Some of the stress had left the XO’s face now the decision had been made. Having to argue against rescuing former colleagues because it was your job was not something Shepard envied. “X, keep the ship radio silent unless absolutely necessary.”
“Aye aye, ma’am.”
“Williams,” Shepard looked at Ash, and when their eyes met, she wished they had a moment for them to talk. But there wasn’t time and right now, they were commanding officer and subordinate, not two people in love. “Get your guys ready. We launch in thirty.”
“Aye, captain,” Ash’s expression was a mask of determination as she turned and headed to find the Marines she was leading into battle for the first time.
The group of officers and attaches split, everyone now focused on the mission. All except for Liara, who stayed, watching Shepard evenly.
Shepard raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong, Liara? I’ve made my decision.”
“You have,” the asari agreed, “I just hope that it was made for the right reasons.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s Ashley’s unit.”
“We have never allowed our relationship to get in the way of the mission,” Shepard snapped, hating how defensive she sounded.
“You never have,” Liara agreed, blue eyes steady, “but you’d never before thrown down your weapons during a mission.”
Shepard’s jaw clenched. “That was different.”
“The councillors were in danger and you chose Ashley,” Liara said, close to merciless.
Shepard stared at her for a moment. It was true. At that moment, all she’d really cared about was that Ash trusted her, that Ash would stop looking at her like that, with betrayed eyes that felt like knives. And then Udina had died. Maybe if she’d been armed and amped she could have stopped Hernandez before she shot him.
“Liara,” she said at last, “what is the point of this?”
Liara’s gaze gentled. “You are both my dear friends, and you know we asari do not hold the same beliefs about…fraternisation as humans do. I just fear that…you think that this will be as easy as it once was. You and Ashley have both changed.”
Shepard looked down at the table and datapad with the mission OPORD on it. “Your concerns are noted.”
Liara nodded. “That’s all I ask.”
When the asari was gone, Shepard sighed, locked the datapad and reached for her helmet sitting on the table.
Cortez brought the shuttle down low and fast out of orbit to minimise the chances of being picked up by Reaper sensors, stealth or no stealth. The cabin was filled with the voices of Marines and their pre-battle rituals. Jokes, ribbing, the odd expletive. Rusnak was tucked into Garane’s shoulder even as the Swede told Lance Corporal Pandev that she could go fuck herself, laughing the whole time.
Ash stayed quiet and watched the feeds coming in from the Normandy’s drones. Hunter was a small, spec ops team, lacking heavy weapons beyond grenade launchers and rocket launchers. They didn’t have the manpower or the firepower to hold the entire base, and so, it appeared they hadn’t tried. Instead they’d holed up in the base’s most defensive building - the headquarters. Flashes of gunfire erupted periodically out of the windows, aimed into the horde of husks prowling inside the wire.
Garrus was at her shoulder, watching the feed himself. She couldn’t see his expression under his faceplate.
“You were right,” he said so quietly she doubted anyone else heard.
“Yeah, we’ll see,” she replied dryly.
She hadn't had a chance to talk to Shepard before they'd launched the mission. They'd checked each other's armour, but in the midst of a dozen Marines hadn't been the place for a proper conversation, and Shepard was going down with the second landing.
"This is going to be hairy!" Cortez shouted back, "Someone get on the door gun!"
Rusnak extricated himself from Garane and clipped himself into the monkey strap. "On it!"
The door slid open, buffeting the interior with wind. Ash reached up and grabbed the bar above her head to steady herself as Rusnak started firing in short bursts, filling the air with the thunder of gunfire.
The shuttle dove down sharply, pulling up into a hover.
“Go, go, go!” Cortez shouted. The Marines began jumping down to the ground before, and Ash threw herself out on the heels of Demetriou. The parking lot in front of the HQ was thick with husks despite the attempt at cover fire from the Marines inside the building, and they were set on almost immediately as they struggled to form a perimeter. As soon as they were all off, the shuttle was rearing up and flying off, buffeting them.
Vega and Hakim started shouting instructions above the crack of gunshots. Liara swept her hand forward and ripped a handful of husks off their feet to be shot with Pandev’s machinegun. Ash spotted movement, raised her rifle and squeezed the trigger. A batarian husk stumbled and fell. When it tried to get up, she shot it again.
“Move to the door!” She shouted, pushing Rusnak forward by his shoulder when he was too slow to move.
They struggled towards the building as a group, the husks grasping at them with twisted hands, surrounded by the blue fire of Liara’s biotics as the asari threw enemies off their feet and pulled them into the air.
Ahead of her, Demetriou stumbled and fell, a husk’s hand wrapped around her ankle. Ash strode forward and blew its head off. She reached down and grabbed the Lance Corporal by her webbing, helping haul her to her feet.
“You’ve already got one Purple Heart, Lance,” she grinned sharply under her visor, “don’t get greedy.”
Demetriou laughed breathlessly, but she was moving again, and that was the main thing.
The doorway was thankfully wide enough for her Marines to get through in twos, even with a black-armoured figure leaning around the doorway to provide cover.
As soon as they were through, the door slammed shut, another black-armoured Marine bracing a table against it to block it.
“Fuck,” Vega said expressively. Liara leant against the nearest wall, breathing hard.
“Good to see friendlies,” said the Marine who’d been covering them. Lewandowski’s familiar Polish accent washed over Ash like a palpable blanket of comfort and relief.
“Even better to see you, Ski,” she said.
He went still and then, “Ma’am?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s damn good to see you, ma’am,” he said and then turned towards the stairs beyond the building’s austere reception area. “Jaz! Jaz, get your damned ass down here!”
Jaz clattered down the stairs in dark armour, rifle in one hand. “What?”
“Jaz,” she called. He’s alive, thank fuck.
He froze and then in the next moment he was slammed into her in a rough, armoured hug, ceramic plates scraping against ceramic plates.
“You’re alive,” he said, like he could hardly believe it.
“Yeah.” She stepped back and examined him.as best she could considering he was in full armour. There were a few scrapes on his armour and it was covered in dust and soot, but no breaches she could see - and a new set of chevrons on his collar. He wasn’t wearing his helmet, a still bleeding cut on his forehead, blood smeared where he’d wiped it out of his eyes. “Who the fuck promoted you?”
Sergeant Jaz Teke laughed.
“Sadly he’s good enough in a fight we have to keep ignoring his smart ass mouth,” Master Sergeant Sun said, emerging from the stairs, “Glad to have you with the living still, ma’am. Congratulations on the promotion.”
They shook hands, a display of deep respect from the reserved Master Sergeant.
There was a brief round of handshakes and shoulder clasps between the old Normandy veterans, Jaz asking Garrus the fuck happened to your face, man.
“We’ll have to finish catching up once we’re back on the ship. Can I talk to your team leader?”
“Lieutenant Aslan is upstairs, ma’am. I’ll take you to him. Can your guys watch the windows, give ours a break?”
“Vega, set it up,” Ashley called back and got a nod in response before she followed Sun. She would need to be careful with Aslan, make sure she didn’t run roughshod over him. She was self aware enough to know that there was a little, possessive part of her that still considered Hunter Team hers.
Hunter Team had been her command, the unit to teach her to trust her own judgement in absence of Shepard and even Anderson. They’d changed her just like the Normandy had.
But the reality was that they were Aslan’s team now and she couldn’t disrespect him by giving orders directly to them.
Aslan was sitting on what had been the commanding officer’s desk, drinking from his canteen. He was a tall, slim man, with dark, curly hair and an olive complexion with a First Lieutenant’s bars on his black collar. He stood when she entered the room. Behind him were a gaggle of shell-shocked looking civilians in work clothes - and three children. One teenager and a couple of kids that couldn’t be more than ten, both wrapped up in the arms of their terrified parents.
Fuck. Alright.
“Major Williams.” He reached out to shake her hand, “when we got your ship’s message, I thought I was hallucinating for a second there.”
“Glad to be able to help. My ship is sending down another two squads of Marines, and then we’ll start evacuating the civilians and your team.”
He nodded. He was composed, but it was clear it’d been a long week. There were deep shadows under his eyes and he had the pallor of someone who’d been in armour for too long. She talked him through the evacuation plan, and though his relief was clear, his questions were still probing for risks.
“There’s a lot of luck involved,” she admitted, “but what else is new in this line of business?”
Jaz chuckled behind her.
“I’m not complaining,” Aslan said with a small, tight smile, “I have a couple of badly wounded. I think we should send the children, their parents and the wounded up first.”
She bit down on her instinctive urge to ask who was hurt. “I agree.”
“There might be a bit of a wrinkle though-”
“You’re going to make us stay here?” one of the civilians stood up, a tall, broad shouldered man with greying blond hair.
She wanted to tell him to sit down and shut the fuck up. Instead she managed a small smile. “We’re going to get you all out, but we only have one stealth shuttle. You’ll be on the second ride out.”
He opened his mouth.
“If you think you’re gonna take one of the kid’s seats, I’ll throw you to the husks myself, you fuck,” one of the other civilians, a younger man in a technician’s overalls snapped, and the older man flushed red and sat down.
Ash did her best to keep her satisfaction out of her voice as she turned back to Aslan, “What’s this problem you mentioned?”
Aslan scratched his jaw. He clearly hadn’t been able to shave by the untrimmed beginnings of a beard. “One of the techs, Grace Sato, got separated from us when we were falling back to the headquarters. She’s alive - she’s got a radio and managed to lock herself in a storage room. We tried to go get her, but there were too many husks. That’s how Charger and Wei got hurt.”
“And how I got this,” Jaz mentioned, touching his forehead and winced.
Ash stepped closer to Aslan and lowered her voice, “I don’t want to leave anyone behind, but we might not have the resources to safely recover one person.”
Aslan frowned and replied, just as quietly, “She’s the most senior tech left alive. She’s got the intel, ma’am.”
“Fantastic,” she said flatly, “You haven’t mentioned what the intel is.”
“The comms arrays were still operating for several weeks into the invasion,” he said, “they collected SIGINT on the battle between the Eighth and the Reapers and subsequent Reaper movements. She also has the schematic for these arrays - they’re more advanced than most the Alliance operates.”
She considered that. “A rescue mission is beyond my orders. Sheaprd will be on the next shuttle - it’s her call.”
“Shepard?” Jaz grinned, “Awesome. Should’ve guessed, since Vakarian and T’Soni are here.”
“You two make up?” Ski asked. When her eyes shot over to him, she was met by his bland smile and Jaz’s smirk.
“Have you two been gossiping about my love life?” she asked, not sure whether to be amused or embarrassed.
“Not just us,” Jaz said cheerily.
“Wonderful.”
“C’mon, boss, enquiring minds want to know-”
“They made up like five seconds after Ash came aboard,” Garrus contributed helpfully.
Ash barely resisted the urge to facepalm. “Why am I friends with you guys?”
“Our charming personalities and excellent marksmanship,” Garrus quipped.
Her radio buzzed. “Ranger Actual, this is Ranger Six. Second Squad and Sunburst are on the deck. Over.”
“Copy that. Ask Sunburst to come up here, over.”
“Roger. Ranger Six out.”
She looked at the lieutenant. “Shepard’s here. Let’s brief her on Sato.”
Shepard ran a hand through her hair, wincing when her fingers snagged on a tangle. “The intel is worth the attempt to get Sato.”
Aslan, the N5 officer, nodded, looking pleased. Ashley was more reserved. “We need to secure the LZ as well, ma’am. I don’t think the kids will run like a Marine does under fire.”
She nodded. “We’ll push out and establish a perimeter for Cortez to land. Then I want you and Vega to take Hohepa’s squad and grab Sato.”
“Aye ma’am,” Ash said easily.
“You should take one of my Marines as a guide,” Aslan suggested. “We’ve gotten to know the base very well in the last month.”
“I’ll go,” Jaz said immediately.
“You’re wounded,” Ash pointed out.
Jaz lifted his chin and there was a challenge in his brown eyes and determination in the set of his handsome face, bloody head wound or not. “I’m good to go. Ma’am.”
Stubborn as ever. He’d fought his way through the Presidium during Soveireng’s attack despite missing half of one hand - now replaced by cybernetics - and gotten Anderson out of his cell. The only thing Jaz lacked to be an N7 was the drive to be one.
Ash smiled and shook her head in affectionate amusement.
“You don’t have a helmet,” Shepard crossed her arms.
“I can borrow one-”
“You’re getting on the shuttle, Sergeant.” She softened her voice. “Chakwas would have my head otherwise.”
Frustration flashed across his face but then he nodded. “Aye, ma’am. It’s really not that deep though-”
“Chakwas will decide that.”
He sighed. “Yes, ma’am.”
Fifteen minutes later, the Normandy’s Marine platoon and the combat capable members of Hunter Team were surging out of the building and into the horde of husks outside. They forced them back through sheer weight of fire and bloody determination.
Trusting Ash had the Marines under control, Shepard concentrated on adding her biotics to Liara’s. Together they detonated biotic explosions amongst the husks, shielded the Marines from gunfire and in one case, biotically pulled PFC Campbell out of the way of a rampaging brute before Meideros put a rocket in its chest.
“That was awesome!” the normally acerbic young Marine laughed, leaping to her feet as Westmoreland fussed over her.
By the end of the short and brutal firefight, there were piles of husks lying all over the parking lot. Ash ordered a fireteam to pull the bodies into a pile to create a clear landing spot for the shuttle.
It was a good thing that husks lacked the intelligence they’d had as sentient beings. Another enemy might have concentrated fire on the few doors out of the headquarters and made it much harder or even suicidal for the Marines to charge out.
“Hawk One, this is Sunburst Actual. LZ is clear, over.”
“Sunburst Actual, Hawk One, roger. ETA is ten mikes, over.”
“Aslan, get the first lot of civilians and your wounded ready.”
The lieutenant said a quick aye aye and jogged back inside. Shortly after that, he emerged with the three kids, their parents and two Marines carried on blankets. One was in and out of consciousness and the other was groaning softly with every jostle. Shepard watched as Ash walked over and dropped a hand to the conscious Marine’s shoulder, murmuring something softly to him. He reached up and grabbed her hand briefly.
“I’m sorry,” Shepard told her softly when Ash rejoined her as Cortez landed and they started loading.
Ash hooked her thumbs into her webbing, her rifle hanging over her chest from the sling. “We’re getting them out of here. That’s the main thing. When did you want me to go get Sato?”
Shepard glanced around briefly. Husks were periodically trying to breach the perimeter but for now they were holding them back with machine gun fire and the odd grenade from one of the corporals. Things would get dicier if they started running low on ammunition. “Things here are under control. Go get Second ready.”
Ash nodded, determination in her dark eyes under her visor. She turned to leave, paused and turned back. When she spoke, her voice was low, just for the two of them. “I love you.”
“I love you too, cariño. Be careful.”
Ash smiled. “I’m not the one who likes to hit things with her face.”
Before Shepard could respond, she was walking away. She watched Ash’s back and wondered if it had always been this hard to send her into danger.
A few minutes after Ash, Vega and Second Squad had disappeared into the base’s warren of buildings, Shepard looked up at the sound of footsteps. Garrus leaned against an abandoned skycar, resting his rifle on the hood. It’d seen better days - the windscreen was shattered and the doors were pocketed with bullet holes.
“They wouldn’t have lasted much longer,” Garrus said contemplatively, “I’m glad we could do this, for Ashley’s sake.”
“As am I.”
“They really respect her, this team,” he said, “and not just the Normandy vets.”
“She’s always been an incredible Marine,” Shepard adjusted her grip on her own gun, “I’m glad the Alliance acknowledges it now.”
He turned his head and examined her. “You’re worried.”
She let out a huff. “It’s just…harder.”
Her entire career had involved sending people she cared about into danger. On Eden Prime and Virmire, she’d sent friends to their deaths.
Garrus made a thoughtful trill. “I’m far from an expert on…romance, but you haven’t worked together, not really, for a while and now you know what it’s like to lose her.”
She thought about what Liara had said to her before the mission. “Maybe I made a mistake.”
His voice was a little incredulous, “You’re still making decisions based on what’s best for the mission.”
“I didn’t bring her aboard the Normandy because it was the right thing to do for the mission, Garrus.”
That felt like a confession.
He paused for a moment before he spoke carefully, “You can’t be an emotionless avatar of duty all the time, Shepard. You need a reason to fight like anyone else.”
“How very not turian of you,” she murmured.
He flicked his mandibles in amusement. “Good thing I’m bad at being a turian.”
The distant sound of gunfire made her look over her shoulder. Ash’s force must have run into husks.
Garrus followed her gaze but said nothing.
The gunfire didn’t stop for several minutes. She lifted her hand towards her radio and then dropped it.
She’ll radio if she needs help. Don’t distract her. She couldn’t do Ash the disservice of micromanaging her.
Another burst of fire - this time from the LZ perimeter. Shepard snapped around to look. Husks were pouring between the gap between two buildings,scrabbling over each other with gnashing teeth and desiccated limbs. Right towards the understrength First Squad, from which she could only see one machine gun firing.
They weren’t going to be able to hold back the enemy without help.
Garrus had come to the same conclusion, because when she started running, he was already several strides ahead of her.
Damn turian and his damned long legs.
By the time she reached them, a husk was bearing Leach to the ground, grasping for her throat. The corporal threw up an arm to protect herself and then screamed as the sound of a sickening snap reverberated through the air.
Shepard tossed herself forward, punching forward with a biotic wreathed fist. It left a crater in the husk’s chest and threw it back, but it was still snarling and getting back to its feet. It fell a second time with Garrus’ bullet in its head. Leach got to her feet, cradling her broken arm to her chest, and staggered back and into cover behind a skycar. Her arm was bent in an awful direction and she looked pale under her visor.
But it wasn’t going to kill her, so Shepard turned her attention to the husks. They were pressing forward, crawling over the bodies of the ones the Marines had shot, Garane’s machine gun a roar.
“Pandev, get that gun up!” Hakim shouted even as he fired his grenade launcher with a dull thunk. The frag exploded in the midst of the husks, ripping into them in a flower of shrapnel.
“I need to change the barrel!” she shouted back, and the reason for that was quickly apparent when Shepard glanced over at her. A husk must have grabbed it, because the Typhoon’s barrel was twisted a full 45 degrees.
That was new.
Shepard threw out a thudding wave of biotic energy, bowling several husks over. She could hear the distinct crack of Garrus’ rifle as he fired aimed shots into the horde, killing husks with almost every shot.
But they kept coming even as the pile of dead Reaper creatures got a full metre and a half high and the next waves had to scramble over.
Maybe the Reapers really did want this base. Or maybe they’d just converted enough of the planet’s population for this horde.
“Ravager!” Hakim shouted, “Get down-”
Shepard threw out her hands and raised a barrier with milliseconds to spare. The rockets hitting her barrier felt like sledgehammers, energy pouring out of her. Her heart pounded in her chest but she forced the barrier to remain in place.
Demetrious crawled to her knees from where she’d thrown herself onto the concrete, rocket launcher raised, and then fired.
And missed. The rocket punched into the building above the Ravager, showering it with flecks of concrete and masonry.
Demetriou swore loudly and fumbled to reload. The Ravager fired again and Shepard gritted her teeth as the barrier nearly slipped away from her. Not today, fucker.
Distantly, she knew with grim certainty that she couldn’t keep the barrier up for much longer.
Hakim must have known it too or seen the flicker of her barrier, because there was stress in his voice as he yelled, “Demetriou! Hurry up!”
“I am-”
Another salvo. Shepard fell to her knees, legs feeling like she’d just run a marathon. Her suit beeped at her with a reminder about her blood glucose.
A familiar distortion twisted through the gravity well. Liara. Blue glowed around the hole in the wall Demetriou’s rocket had created, and then she felt a rip through the field. A slab of concrete fell free and slammed into the Ravager with a thunderous crash. The Ravager was, well, squished. A tired cheer rose from First Squad.
Shepard let her barrier drop and willed her limbs to move. Only over a decade of training her body to obey her even through pain and exhaustion allowed her to get to her feet. Her vision was blurry and her head was pounding.
Overdid it. She managed to walk behind the same car Leach was sitting behind, still cradling her broken arm, and sat down.
“Shepard?” Liara’s voice, concerned.
“I’m okay,” her words were like molasses in her mouth.
“Your suit is telling me you’re hypoglycemic,” a disapproving Ukrainian voice retorted. Shepard blinked up at Kovalenko. “I’m going to give you a glucagon injection. Start drinking your biotic juice.”
“Yes ma’am,” she said dryly before finding the tube in her helmet and triggering it to feed from her store of energy drink designed for biotics rather than the water tank. The liquid was sickly sweet but she sucked it down like a woman who’d been in a desert for a few days.
Kovalenko knelt down and found the medical port to her armour, pulling out a glucagon vial. A few seconds later she felt a prick as the autoinjector stabbed into her thigh.
“No more biotics until I say so,” Kovalenko said with the authority of a very put upon medic.
“You’re the boss, Doc.” Shepard had experienced seizures from overdoing her biotics during the Blitz, it wasn’t an experience she wanted to repeat.
“Blyat, I wish I was a corpsman in the days where all we had to worry about was bullet holes,” she muttered, turning to Leach.
“Second lift is away, over.” Cortez’s voice buzzed in her ear and she winced against the sudden pain in her head.
One lift of evacuees left to go, and then they could start pulling out. She could hear the fighting continuing, but Hakim’s orders were less stressed, and Garrus and Liara were now supporting him. Shepard let herself take the moment to rest, waiting for her vision to start clearing.
“Sunburst, this is Ranger Five, over.” Ash’s voice was steady but there was a tension to it.
“Ranger Five, Sunburst, go ahead, over.”
“We’ve reached the target location but Sato won’t unlock the door. We’re in heavy contact and have two Cat 3 wounded. We need to get moving again. Can I patch you into our comms with her, over?” Ash’s words were punctuated with the gunshots.
Ash wanted her to talk the civvie down then. “Affirm, over.” She ended the comm and shouted, “Is Chou still on the ground?”
“Here, ma’am!” Chou jogged over.
“Do you have your drone?”
Chou smiled thinly under her visor, “Never leave home without one, ma’am.”
“Get it in the air.”
Shepard’s omnitool beeped at her to tell her Ash had patched in the new comm channel. “Miss Sato? My name is Captain Shepard and I’m the commanding officer of the evacuation team.”
“H-hello.”
“My Marines are outside the door. They’ve risked their lives to get to you and they need you to come out so they can get you back to the evacuation.”
“There’s so much gunfire,” the woman’s voice was shaky and tearful, “if I go out there I’ll die.”
If you stay there, you’ll definitely die. Shepard keyed her mic again. “Major Williams will get you back here. We’ve got a shuttle and we will get you out of here. I promise you Williams is one of the best.”
“Okay. Okay.”
“Thank you.”
Shepard looked up at Chou’s voice, hurried as she stared at her omnitool and the feed from her drone, “Ranger Five, this is Hunter Two-Four. You have a brute coming in on your eleven o’clock, over.”
Shepard got to her feet with the help of the skycar at her back, closing her eyes for a moment as her vision swam before she stood so she could watch the feed over Chou’s shoulder. Just in time to watch as Meideros, warned by Chou, met the charging brute with a rocket.
“Thanks, Hunter Two-Four. We’re in a lot of contact here - can you help us move in the right direction, over?”
“Roger,” Chou replied.
Shepard didn’t like what she was seeing. Second Squad was surrounded, a knot of blue and black armoured figures in the midst of a ring of husks clogging the paths and roads in between comms towers. As she watched, a husk lunged towards Ash, only to toppled down when Dressler shot it from beside her.
“Ranger Five, Two-Four. You need to move - they’re starting to surround you, over,” Chou said urgently. Shepard curled her hands into fists.
“Hunter Two-Four, Ranger Five,” Ash’s voice was tense, “we’re stuck in here. We may need assistance, over.”
Shepard took stock of the forces at her disposal through the pounding in her head. If she sent another squad to help Ash, then she’d only have one to defend the LZ - and First Squad was down to half strength now with Leach’s broken arm. They were still holding their ground right now, but they were more or less combat ineffective for such a mission.
Normally an air strike from the Normandy to lessen the enemy numbers and create a gap for the squad to punch through would be an option, but there was that goddamned Reaper.
But they might not have many other options. She opened her mouth to talk into the comm, but was interrupted by someone else on the net.
“Sunburst, this is Hawk, over.”
She frowned. “Go ahead, over.”
“There’s space for me to get in at Ranger Five’s position. I can get in there and pick up Five and Sato, over.”
It was risky. Cortez came across as calm and even-keeled but he still had a fighter pilot’s daring streak if this and his stunt on Mars said anything.
She grimaced and spoke again, “Roger. If you think it’s doable, go ahead, over.”
“Going in. Hawk out.”
“Ranger Five, did you hear that, over?”
“Affirm. We’ll stand by, over.”
Garrus slid a new heatsink into his rifle. Thankfully, they’d brought a couple of crates of heatsinks down with them, so ammunition wasn’t an issue - yet.
“Vakarian!”
He turned to find Corporal Chou coming towards him, her omnitool glowing around her wrist. “Yes?”
He’d never had the easiest relationship with Chou when they’d been on the SR1. When the rest of the MARDET had accepted him as one of them, she’d been a holdout.
“The enemy are gathering on our left flank. There’s a couple of brutes from what I can see.”
He nodded, scooped some extra heatsinks from the crate at his feet, “I’ll head over there.”
She paused. “Glad you’re not dead.”
“You too, Chou.” They weren’t friends, but they’d fought together before. That still counted for something. He turned away and made his way towards Hakim’s squad across the carpark., boots scraping in concrete dust and debris.
He was halfway there when the ground in front of him exploded.
For a moment all he could see was gray, and then he realised he was lying on his face. Garrus got his elbow under him and rolled onto his back, taking a moment to gasp for breath and wriggle his talons and toes, accounting for his limbs.
Good, he still had all of them.
His suit was barking at him that his shields were down and there was a breach, but his medex wasn’t notifying of any injuries, so he got to his feet. There was a crater ahead of him and he could see a dark-armoured figure laying limply on the ground. Someone was shouting for Kovalenko.
“Sun!” Chou ran past him but Garrus reached out and grabbed her elbow, jerking her to a halt. She tried to shake him off but he held on.
“Find out where that came from!” he ordered. For a moment he thought she might tell him where he could shove his order but then she muttered something at her breath and brought up her omnitool and the feed from her drone.
He left her standing there and ran forward. The Marines looked shell-shocked - Garane was sitting on the ground, bright red blood flowing from a gash in his forearm, his machinegun lying on the ground in front of him. Rusnak was standing over him, fumbling for a medigel packet. Demetriou and Hakim were on their feet, firing at the first husks starting to come through the street again.
Garrus slung his rifle over his back and grabbed the Typhoon, glad he’d taken the time to familiarise himself with Alliance weapons. “Forget the medigel,” he told Rusnak, “put a tourniquet on him.”
He’d unfortunately become familiar with the signs of arterial bleeds in humans. He waited long enough to see Rusnak drop the medigel packet and reach for Garane’s tourniquet in his chest webbing before he rushed forward. He laid the Typhoon on the hood of the ruined skycar they were using as cover and pulled down the bipod.
A handful of husks rushed around the corner towards them, howling, their eyes glowing electric blue. He pulled the trigger just as the entire world shook with another explosion. He jerked despite himself, the burst going over the husks’ heads.
He readjusted and squeezed the trigger again despite the awkward trigger guard not meant for turian fingers. The first three husks crumpled and a second later one of Hakim’s frags landed in front of the rest with a dull roar, sending serrated shrapnel ripping through them.
Only then did Garrus allow himself the second to glance over his shoulder. He couldn’t hear anymore yells for a corpsman. Kovalenko was knelt over the fallen figure of one of the N5s, the Master Sergeant. The second explosion had struck the roof of the headquarters, caving in the roof.
Artillery. Since when do Reapers have Spirits-damned artillery.
“What is that?” Chou said. Shepard had joined her and was looking over her shoulder. “It - did that used to be an elcor?”
Shepard didn’t speculate. “Hawk, ETA? Over.”
“Sunburst, Hawk. Six mikes, over.”
“Transmitting data for priority target. Reaper mobile artillery. Strike it and then get down here to get First Squad and the N5s out, over.”
“Affirm, over.”
Garane was making his way towards where the wounded were being staged and Rusnak was watching him go, looking a little lost. Garrus walked over to him and pushed the Typhoon towards him.
“Here.”
The young Marine blinked a couple of time and then nodded, magnetised his rifle to his back and took the MG.
Content that the MG was at least going to be some use, Garrus made his way to Shepard and lowered his voice, “This perimeter is too large to hold.”
Not with First whittled down to a glorified fireteam, and the majority of the fighters already off the planet.
Shepard nodded. “We’ll collapse in.”
They both paused as another explosion ripped through the carpark, waiting for the calls for the corpsman. They didn’t come, shielded by another building.
“Elcor husk artillery, huh?” he said lightly.
“Seems so,” Shepard said, “it’ll die like anything else.”
In the end, it felt somewhat anticlimactic. There was a distant explosion as Cortez blew up the new horrible husk, and then the shuttle swooped in over the damaged roof of the headquarters, nosing up to land.
Then they were cramming into the shuttle, trying not to step on the body of Master Sergeant Sun laid on the hard metal floor. Chou knelt at his head, cradling his head in her gloved hands as the Kodiak hummed and lifted into the sky, leaving Ontarom behind.
Codex Entry
Emily Wong Interview with Corporal Pieter Schaper Part One:
Emily Wong: I’m interviewing Corporal Pieter Schaper, Systems Alliance Marine Corps. So you’re a team leader in the Marine Detachment, if I understand correctly?
Pieter Schaper: That is correct.
EW: What does that involve, day to day and on the battlefield?
PS: Assisting my senior NCO in making it happen and keeping a close eye on the enlisted. Day to day it means being there for my fellow marines and trying to lead by example as best as possible. Taking on tasks delegated by your superior so they can focus on other things, while helping your subordinates do their job. In combat it's more or less the same except you're ducking a lot.
EW: You’re a bit older than the others in your squad, right? How long have you been a Marine?
PS: 12 years and counting.
EW: Most of the corporals are younger than you, right? Why is that?
PS: Because I used to be a slightly rowdy enlisted. And I have what you could call administrative phobia- More seriously though, being a Marine was not a long career choice initially. But I really like my job.
EW: Were you in an Earth military before the Alliance or did you go straight into the Marines?
PS: Straight into the Marines. Just after uni graduation.
EW: Why did you join the Marines?
PS: See the galaxy? Do my bit against slavers…hm… As I said I was mostly looking for trouble at the time.
EW: So you had combat experience against the batarians and pirates?
PS: Yes.The Blitz and all that came after. Like many others.
EW: Do you think your experiences prior to the invasion have helped you prepare for the war?
PS: Of course. Every bit of combat experience helps. But nothing prepared us for something on this scale. And not just us. We learn and we adapt. Have to.
EW: How different is fighting the Reapers compared to those you’ve fought before?
PS: Well everything is different. But they can be killed like anything else. That's what matters…You're not going to ask me where I see myself in ten years, are you?
EW: That seems like a particularly hardball question right now, given the circumstances. I’ve interviewed Captain Shepard a few times - have any of the Marines had reservations, in your experience? Serving under someone who was on trial for war crimes a few months ago, that is.
PS: Speaking of hardball questions. Reservations are not unknown in war. But we're here to do our jobs. So is the Captain. If there's reservations, we express them when and where appropriate, as our rules dictate. I won't talk of what fellow marines entrusted me with.
EW: What about you personally?
PS: What happened at Bahak is horrific…Nothing I've seen from my Captain spells malice or prejudice. Nor do I have an objective knowledge of what truly happened there… Look, all I know is this: The captain warned Reapers would come. And now she fights tooth and nail to give everyone a fighting chance.
EW: So you have no problems serving under her command?
PS: No. We know the stakes. That's why the Captain counts on us.
Chapter 34: Understanding
Chapter Text
Exhaustion hung like a haze over Garrus’ vision, but he kept his back straight as he watched four members of Hunter Team lift the silver transfer case containing Master Sergeant Sun’s body, now draped with a blue and white Alliance flag. He wasn’t Alliance, and the Hierarchy didn’t place the same kind of emphasis on recovering the fallen as the Alliance did, but even before he’d spent so much time with the human military he’d found some familiarity in the rituals of military grief.
He hadn’t known Sun, but several of his friends had, and now the Alliance was down another experienced NCO. That was enough for a flicker of sadness.
He rendered a claw salute as the transfer case was carried past him, towards the elevator and where it would be stored in the Normandy’s freezers until they returned to the Citadel.
Beside him, Jaz let out a sigh and raised a hand to rub his face, palm scraping over the hair covering his chin. He’d stripped down to his under armour suit.
“It’s not going to get better, is it?” the Marine said.
“No,” Garrus replied simply. After a moment though, he added, “but when we win, their spirits will be with us.”
Jaz gave a ghost of a smile, “We better win. I’m not dying and having to tell Amina and Nick we lost.”
Garrus flicked his mandibles. “They’d kick our asses.”
They stood in contemplative silence before Jaz asked, “I thought we weren’;t going to make it. What were you guys doing here, anyway?”
“Looking for the carrier that reportedly escaped the battle,” Garrus responded, “Hackett’s orders.”
Jaz blinked. “That captain is getting free drinks if they pulled that off. We were already on the ground but the comms…that shit sounded pretty bad.”
“I’ll buy the first round once we get them out.”
Footsteps heralded the arrival of Lieutenant Aslan, Hunter Team’s commanding officer. “Major Vakarian, Jaz.”
“Sir,” Jaz murmured.
“I have to admit,” here Aslan paused as if considering his words before he added, carefully, “sir, I’m curious as to how a turian officer to serve on an Alliance vessel.”
“Garrus helped us when we hunting Saren,” Jaz said.
Garrus nodded. “I helped Shepard on the SR1 and then against the Collectors.”
Aslan raised one dark eyebrow, a human expression Garrus had become very familiar with thanks to his friendship with Shepard, “A turian joining Cerberus?”
Garrus flicked his mandibles. “I was there for Shepard, same as most of the people who came aboard for that mission.
“And Shepard?”
Ah.
Jaz shifted uncomfortably beside them, conflict flashing across his face.
“Shepard was there for the people the Collectors were killing,” Garrus said calmly, “and she hated every moment she had to cooperate with them.”
Aslan nodded slowly. “I didn’t know what to think, to be honest, but she saved Lewandowski then and saved us again today. I owe her one for that.”
“She won’t see it that way,” Garrus said with a hint of amusement. Shepard would consider it as having done her duty by her fellow Alliance Marines.
“There’s lots of rumours about her,” the lieutenant said, “I look forward to getting to know the real woman and officer behind them.” He then nodded to them and headed off towards the showers.
There was a tinge of judgement in those words, and Garrus didn’t like it. No random lieutenant who hadn’t been there for the horrors the Normandy had been through had the right to judge Shepard for making the best of a terrible situation.
Jaz studied Garrus’ face and then said softly, “He’s a good man, Garrus. He’s just a cautious one.”
“He doesn’t know Shepard,” Garrus said, a little protectively. Shepard didn’t need someone to defend her honour, but there’d been enough people blaming her for things that weren’t her fault.
“No, he doesn’t,” Jaz said, a thoughtful expression crossing his face, “You and the captain seem closer than you used to.”
“Going after the Collectors while everyone thought we were crazy or traitors was a bonding experience,” Garrus said dryly.
Jaz smiled. “Sounds like it.”
“What will Hunter Team do now?”
“Not my call,” Jaz said, “Chou and I want to stay on the Normandy, but in the end it’s the Marine Corps’ decision.”
“I’d let Shepard know that,” he advised, “Hackett gives her pretty much whatever she needs for the mission. I know a lot of Alliance officers wouldn't have allowed Ash to join us.”
Jaz nodded. “I’ll say something.”
“None of us are who we were three years ago, but at heart Shepard is still the captain we followed into the Conduit,” Garrus said strongly.
“I trust you and Williams,” Jaz said like a promise.
“And Shepard?”
Jaz unzipped his undersuit and shrugged it off his shoulders so it fell to his waist. Sometimes Garrus was still struck by how soft humans seemed when out of armour.
“I want to,” he said before he paused, “I do. I just need to get to know her again.”
“Captain,” Doctor Chakwas stepped out of the medbay to find Shepard waiting for her, clearly having come up as soon as she’d gotten out of her armour and back into her utilities.
“Doc,” Shepard acknowledged, “what’s the prognosis?”
“Staff Sergeant Kouvelis has several gunshot wounds to his abdomen. We’ve managed to stabilise him. Corporal Wei has a serious head wound and has developed a subdural hematoma. He needs care we can’t provide.”
“A hospital,” Shepard said, looking grim.
“Yes. I’ve given diuretics to try and reduce the swelling, but I,” she raised her hands, “I’m not a neurosurgeon. I believe he’ll require a craniotomy.”
Shepard looked away for a moment, frowning. It was times like these that Chakwas regretted that a woman who was so kind underneath her stoic, warrior’s mask had to make such terrible decisions and weigh up so many lives. “I’m sorry, Karin, but I can’t abandon the mission for one man.”
Chakwas had been expecting that answer. “I understand, Captain. I’ll do what I can for him.”
Shepard stared down at the map of the Newton System on her desk, frowning at it. She was bone tired after the mission earlier and her brush with biotic exhaustion, but sleep had slipped away from her when she’d tried sleeping, even her old soldier’s habits eluding her. There was just too much to do, thoughts bouncing around inside her skull.
She’d never get used to it. The waiting and painful anticipation that made you wish you were getting shot at just so something happened.
Ten thousand lives but the Benjamin Davis was a needle in a haystack. If EDI and Traynor were right on their guesses, they solved one problem, but then came the harder problem of how to get a kilometre long ship without a stealth drive and with potential battle damage out of a Reaper held system.
The idea that kept popping up in her head was one she knew Hackett wouldn’t approve of, and relied too much on the enemy doing what she wanted for her liking.
Well, ‘want’ might be a strong word, given she was counting on them wanting her dead more than stopping a capital ship escaping.
A sharp knock at the door jolted her out of her thoughts. She straightened her uniform jacket and called, “Come in.”
Shepard’s shoulders relaxed when Ash stepped through the door. Her bun and uniform were neat as usual, but there was the same sort of exhaustion Shepard felt clinging to the younger woman.
“Hey, cariño,” she murmured.
“Hey, skipper,” Ash replied with the ghost of a smile, and crossed the room in a few long strides as Shepard stood up. Ash brushed her lips against Shepard’s cheek.
“Long day, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m sorry,” Shepard said. For the Master Sergeant currently in a silver box in the ship’s freezer, and for the fact that two more Marines might die for the hope they might save ten thousand lives.
Ashley smiled, a little sadly, “I would have made the same decision.” Her eyes slid to the datapads on Shepard’s desk. “You should be getting some rest, Skipper.”
“Couldn’t sleep, so thought I’d get some work done,” she murmured.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you work too much.”
Before Shepard could say anything, Ash pressed forward and into her space, hands going to her shoulders and kissed her. Her mouth was immediately demanding and Shepard let herself fall into it, pulling Ash into her arms. After a few moments, the kiss softened, slid into tenderness instead of need.
When they separated, Ash gave her the ghost of a smile. They were close enough that Shepard could see the flecks of darker colour in her brown eyes, feel Ash’s breath against her cheek. Ash’s clever hands had already untucked her uniform shirt and she was smoothing her palms up the plane of Shepard’s back.
For once the cacophony in Shepard’s head was quiet, stifled by the feel of Ashley’s hands on her body. She closed her eyes and meant forward to press their foreheads together. The heat between them had mellowed into something comforting.
“Today was hard,” Ash said softly, “but I’m glad we got my people out.”
“Me too.” She needed to talk to Jaz and Chou. She had, out of necessity and naval tradition, not been as close to the SR1’s Marine Detachment as Ash had been, but they’d still been her Marines and maybe that was enough to entitle them to something of an explanation for what she’d been doing with Cerberus. And beyond that, they were fragments of what she’d lost when the Normandy had died above Alchera.
“Can I stay with you tonight?” Ash asked.
Part of Shepard still thought she should say no. People gossiping about them was one thing, Ash spending the night in her cabin was another .
But Ash needed this, she could feel it in the way tension still wound through her body even in Shepard’s arms.
“I’d like that,” she brushed her lips across Ash’s forehead.
There was something comforting about them going through the actions of getting ready for bed together. Sex was nice - and with Ash it was great - but there was a calming intimacy to this: exchanging their uniforms for PT shorts and shirts to sleep in, Ash even folding her uniform up with a teasing smile when Shepard knew she was more of the 'drop it on the floor and deal with it in the morning' person, Shepard brushing her teeth while Ash let out her long, dark hair to brush.
When she stepped away from the sink, she approached Ash on the couch, "May I?"
Ash blinked and then smiled, handing her the brush. They rearranged themselves on the couch so Shepard could comfortably reach her hair.
She'd always loved Ashley's hair. She started at the ends, careful to avoid tugging on any snarls. "Lemme know if I hurt you."
Ash hummed a noise of acknowledgement but leant back into her touch. For several minutes the only sounds in the room were their breathing, the gentle rasp of the brush through Ash's hair and the ever present hum of the ship itself.
When she was done, Shepard set aside the brush and leant forward to kiss the other woman's shoulder, on the sliver of skin bared by her PT shirt.
"You nearly put me to sleep," Ash yawned.
"Let's go to bed," Shepard replied.
They fell asleep to the background noise of the ship.
Shepard woke up a couple of hours later to EDI’s dulcet voice, Ashley’s back pressed to her chest, her arm around her waist. Ash's fingers were wrapped around her forearm.
“Apologies for waking you, Captain, but XO Wulandri requests your presence on the bridge.”
"I’ll be right down.”
Ash grumbled something, burying her face further into the pillow, her grip on Shepard's arm tightening for a moment when she moved, before she woke enough to realise that duty had interrupted them and she let go. Shepard pressed a kiss to Ash’s hair before disentangling them.
She was buttoning up her jacket when Ashley sat up, yawning. She shot her a small smile, “Go back to sleep. I’ll be back as soon as I sort out whatever Wulandri needs.”
Ash ran a hand through her hair. Shepard loved her like this, relaxed and unbuttoned, armour laid down. “If you’re sure.”
“Get some rest, cariño,” she said, straightening the command star on her uniform.
When she emerged into the CIC, Wulandri and Traynor were waiting for her. Traynor was shifting from foot to foot, something like excitement on her face.
“We found the Davis,” Traynor blurted out.
“We think,” Wulandri qualified.
Shepard blinked. “Show me.”
Wulandri showed her to the galaxy map, with it showijng a zoomed in map of their immediate vicinity. The debris of the system’s naval depot, mostly. No warships that she could see.
“There’s heat and eezo burn traces,” Wulandri explained, “I overlooked it at first, but EDI believes the decay rate indicates a ship that’s passed this way since the battle. We believe the Davis is using the debris as cover.”
“There are several signatures that could indicate a large vessel,” EDI chimed in, “but without us risking exposure with directed LADAR pings from close range, it will be impossible to determine if one is the Davis due to the interference and other signatures.”
“We’re not doing that,” Shepard decided, “we need the Davis to talk to us, if she’s there. Open a short range transmission channel."
Traynor tapped on her console. “Open, ma’am.”
“Normandy to any Alliance vessels. Normandy to Alliance vessels. Do you copy, over?”
Silence followed over the next few minutes. Shepard frowned.
“Maybe we were wrong,” Traynor looked deflated.
“Or they’re too afraid to break radio silence,” Wulandri pointed out.
“Transmit our identification codes,” Shepard ordered.
"Sent," Traynor said a few moments later.
A minute passed in silence, Traynor tapping her fingers anxiously against the station in front of her.
Then a Senegalese accented voice, hoarse even over the transmission responded, "Normandy, Benjamin Davis, over."
No one in the focused, professional environment cheered but she did see one serviceman fistpump and another high five the woman beside him. Shepard allowed herself a small smile before she spoke again.
"Davis, Normandy, we are part of a task force tasked with your retrieval. What is the condition of your vessel and crew, over?"
"Normandy, Davis, we have sustained battle damage but are capable of FTL. We are at 90% heat capacity and low on food, fuel and water. We have many wounded but enough crew to run ship functions. We have few fighters in fighting conditions and cannot spare fuel for them. Over."
There was little Shepard could do about the situation here and now. The Normandy's supplies were a drop in the ocean of what a carrier needed.
The heat situation worried her most. It didn't leave them much time to get the Davis out before she cooked her crew alive. The Reapers wouldn't be kind enough to let them park the carrier somewhere and bleed heat.
"Davis, Normandy. Acknowledged. I need three hours to contact the rest of my taskforce and get them here. After that, I would like to send one of my stealth capable shuttles so we can discuss how to get you out of the system, over."
"Normandy, Davis. Affirm. Inform us when you're ready to board, over."
"Wilco. Normandy out."
Transmission ended, Shepard looked over at Wulandri. "Easy part's over.'
"That was easy?" Traynor asked dubiously.
"Compared to getting a carrier with 10% left in its heatsinks to the relay through a gauntlet of Reapers?" Wulandri smiled sharply, "Yes."
"Send the signal to the Ain Jalut and Verdun that we've found the Davis and to meet us here."
"Aye, aye ma'am," Traynor said, turning on her heel and making for the QEC.
Shepard looked back at her executive officer. "Call me once they're here. I'm going back to bed."
She had a feeling she'd need her energy for what was to come next.
Codex Entry
Emily Wong Interview with Corporal Pieter Schaper Part Two:
Emily Wong: We’ve talked a little about the Reapers, but there’s the second front so to speak. You’ve fought Cerberus too, including during the Coup. What are your thoughts?
Pieter Schaper: Fascists as fascists do. These racists have been killing our own, the innocent and our allies well before the war. We failed to root them out then. We're dealing with the consequences. If you excuse me saying it. We lost good people during the coup. We need that fifth column destroyed.
EW: Some allege that the Alliance leadership prior to the war was complicit in allowing Cerberus to get bigger. Do you agree?
PS: Sure, Cerberus had moles. But complacency more than complicity is what that sort of organisation thrives on. I'd ask myself if I did everything I could before pointing fingers at dead people.
EW: I get a lot of questions from my viewers about what they can do, as civilians, for the men and women on the front lines. What do you think?
PS: If you know something about Alliance deployments from a loved one in service, stay mum. Even with family and friends. That saves lives. If you happen to be well off and can spare care packages of non essentials, holos or games, I bet most marines and sailors would welcome it. Comm buoys being down and all… Otherwise, if you want to help us and if you have access to people who can teach you, learn all that you can to keep yourself and others safe. First Aid chiefly, and if you have access to proper instructors, do consider basic weapons handling training. No heroics. Finally, learn a trade if you can. Cooking, sewing, mechanical or electrical work. Anything can help the war effort somehow, somewhere.
EW: Thank you, Corporal. Did you have any final things you’d like to say?
PS: Only that I'm exceptionally proud to serve and do my duty with the most courageous people I know. And I know this courage extends to everyone everywhere. From here, to Earth, Palaven… every world. We won't let you down
EW: Thank you, Corporal. Do you mind if I ask some questions about you personally?
PS: Ask away. We’ll see.
EW: You’re from Earth, right?
PS: Yes. I'm German. From Bavaria more precisely.
EW: Any family on Earth?
PS: Yes. Before you ask, I haven't heard back from them in a while.
EW: I know that feeling. Anyone else floating around the galaxy?
PS: There is someone. Safe and sound thankfully.
EW: Glad to hear. Times like these make that all the more important. Thank you for your time, I don’t have any other questions.
PS: You’re welcome, ma’am.
Chapter 35: Bait
Chapter Text
“Captain, the other commanders have arrived and XO Wulandri has directed them to the briefing room,” EDI announced to Shepard.
Shepard thanked her, taking a seat at the briefing room table and waiting. She’d need to remember to order Wulandri to take a nap while she was on the Davis - the XO had been awake the whole time Shepard had rested.
Once again, Yung and Spear entered simultaneously. This time there was no ritual, nor any mirth. While they sported hardsuits and looked clean, both men were clearly tired. At least they were still alert.
"Captain," Spear nodded.
"Ma'am." Yung said.
They both slid silently into seats.
"We didn't find much." Yung seemed mournful. "A fair amount of wreckage."
Spear shot him a glance. His expression was a mix of concern and frustration. "We burned some time looking for survivors."
Yung looked down at his hands. "I couldn't leave them there. They would have done the same for us."
“We managed to pull some survivors off Ontarom,” Shepard said, “A N5 team.”
"Thank god," Spear said. "What's their status? And the colony?"
“One KIA, two seriously wounded, the rest carrying light injuries. The colony…” she grimaced, “It’s not good. Looked like the Reapers were harvesting the towns.”
Yung winced. "That's what I hate about this fucking enemy. They turn even our civilians into weapons against us."
"Never mind that." Spear seemed relieved about the N's. "At least we have some of the best trained operators rescued, to fight with us. Now, the elephant in the room…" He looked Shepard dead on. "You found the Benjamin Davis?"
She nodded. “They’ve been using the debris of the other ships destroyed and the wreckage of the naval depot to hide their heat signature. They’re here.” She brought up her omnitool to project a local space map with a label for where the Davis was. “They’re in bad shape, with a lot of wounded, battle damage and only 10% heat capacity left.”
"Shit."
"Is it possible to just evacuate the vessel and take the important stuff?" Yung asked.
“There’s thousands of crew and Marines aboard. Our ships just don’t have the capacity to evacuate the ship and its fighters. Not to mention the Marines’ armoured vehicles and shuttles. The Davis is still capable of FTL from what her captain said, but with that little heat sink capacity and their lack of fuel, I don’t think they’re going to be any help if we try to fight our way out.”
"And I'm guessing repairs will take time and equipment we don't have?" While the question from Spear bordered on sarcastic, the tone was anything but.
“Exactly,” Shepard’s lips twisted into an ironic smile, “We’ll go across to the Davis in my stealth shuttle shortly, and discuss a plan with their captain - and the vice admiral, if he’s alive.” The Eighth's commanding officer would have been aboard the Tai Shan but the carrier strike group's commander should have been on the Davis.
“Well, here’s to us then,” Yung said glumly.
Spear looked grim. “It might take a miracle to get the Benjamin Davis out of here.”
“Follow me,” Shepard said simply, getting to her feet.
The two men did as they were bid, silently falling into step behind Shepard. Yung pulled his ballcap tight, forcing his head down and shielding his eyes. Again, Spear shot him a look, but said nothing.
The elevator ride down was quiet, Shepard contemplating her proposed course of action in her head. If the admiral was live, it might cause problems. Her Spectrehood was enough she could probably safely disobey her fellow captain despite his seniority, but an admiral might be dicey.
Cortez had the shuttle ready to go. Vega, Ashley, Li and Dressler were waiting for them as their escorts, the Marines already armed and armoured. Shepard nodded to them.
As Dressler’s gaze passed over the other men with her, his eyes widened upon seeing the blood stripe. He leaned over to Li and whispered, “Looks like Watts wasn’t lying.”
Spear looked down at him. “What was that, Marine?”
Dressler withered under the glare. “Nothing, sir, just saying how ready we are to fight for you, sir.”
As Spear turned away and stepped forward to inspect the shuttle, Shepard could see a thin, tight smile form under his helmet.
Ash raised an eyebrow, looking over at Dressler. “Hopefully, this won’t involve any fighting.”
Dressler was browbeaten. “I was- Aye, ma’am.”
Yung huffed. “Are we ready to go?”
“After you,” Shepard said lightly, extending an arm towards the open door of the shuttle.
Yung led the way into the vessel, quickly finding a seat and expertly strapping himself in. Spear followed closely, and the gathered Marines filed in.
As they were securing themselves into their harnesses, Dressler did his best not to look too hard in Spear’s direction.
“Commander Yung, Commander Spear, this is my Marine Detachment Commander and fellow Spectre, Major Ashley Williams, Marine Detachment NCO Staff Sergeant James Vega as well as Corporal Xiang Li and PFC Alex Dressler.”
“Commanders,” Ash said respectfully.
“A pleasure,” Yung said distractedly.
Spear was more focused. “I wish we could have met under better circumstances.” His piercing gaze held on Ash, though. “It’s good to see you again, Williams.”
“You too, sir.”
Shepard blinked and glanced at Ash, who shrugged as if to say she’d tell her later.
The Kodiak lifted up and slid out of the hold and into space. The next few minutes were quiet, the outside feeds showing an eerie graveyard of twisted and blackened metal. The bones of warships floating in the silent void.
“Shit,” Vega mumbled. Ash’s face was a mask of grim anger. Yung looked at the feeds only briefly before he became very interested in his omnitool, though his cheeks burned red.
“All those people…” Dressler said sadly.
“A whole fleet,” Li remarked, “I hope we can get the Davis out, save at least some of them.”
“As do I, Corporal,” Shepard said.
The Kodiak whirled around a large piece of debris, and there she was: the SSV Benjamin Davis, the ill-fated Eighth Fleet’s flagship. She was huge, a full kilometre of white, blue and black-painted metal, but she’d clearly had a fight of it. There were two long gashes in her starboard, the distant yellow gleam of emergency barriers visible on the cameras as the shuttle approached.
In the cockpit, Cortez’s voice rose as he communicated with the ship’s space traffic controller, and the shuttle angled itself towards the carrier’s aft starboard flight deck.
The shuttle passed through the flight deck barrier and alighted, the hatch swinging open. When they stepped out onto the deck, the air was heavy and warm, making Shepard wish she’d put her helmet on.
There were a few Tridents on the deck, some of them showing battle damage, flight deck crew working in their brightly coloured vests, though many had shed their uniform jackets and were working with bare chests or just their Navy tshirts. The Skittles looked tired and drawn, but the few glances that were shot at the newcomers had some guarded hope in them.
A dark-skinned man stepped forward, accompanied by another man and a woman. All three were still in proper uniform despite their clear exhaustion.
“Captain Shepard,” he said, “I am Captain Senghor Diop, commanding officer of this vessel. This is Commander Chopra, my executive officer, and Captain Tran Van Ca, our CAG.”
“It’s good to see you,” Shepard said truthfully, “this is Commander Spear, of the Ain Jalut, and Commander Yung, of the Bir Hakeim.”
“Good to see you’re not dead, Crunch,” Tran said with a ghost of a smile at Yung.
“You too, Limerick.” For the first time since he boarded the Normandy, Yung looked something other than glum. He caught the inquiring look from Spear. Yung shrugged. “Because he rhymes.”
“Pilots,” Ash said with some amusement.
“Vice Admiral Cloutier was wounded during the battle,” Diop told Shepard, “and is so indisposed. We’ll have to work out this situation between us.”
Shepard nodded. “Is there a briefing room we can talk in?”
“We’ll talk in my ready room. Please follow me.”
They followed the carrier captain off the flight deck and into an elevator. Shepard was glad for the guide - carriers were huge and warren-like. Getting lost would just be embarrassing.
“I still can’t believe you betrayed us for the frigate fleet,” Tran said to Yung, clearly trying to lighten the mood. Despite that, the air on the carrier was heavy.
“Well, you know me,” Yung said, smiling back at Tran. “I was always one to buck the trends. And now I actually get to give orders instead of disobeying them.”
“You were a pain in my ass,” Tran said, “but I’m glad you’re here.”
“You two served together?” Ash asked.
“Yeah,” Yung glanced at Ash. “Limerick was my Squadron Commander when I was first flying for the Navy. Had some good times. He taught me a lot. And, of course, I wanted to be Chief of Navy or something, so I had to go down a path that gave me a ship command.” He looked back to Tran. “And yeah, before you ask, I do miss the adrenaline of dog fighting, or dodging SAMs on a CAS run.”
“Why ‘Crunch’?” she asked.
All of a sudden, for a brief moment, Yung became sheepish, coy, and his features looked so… young. “Because,” he giggled. “My first flight in Tran’s squadron, I came down short and ‘crunched’ my landing struts off on the flight deck.”
“Oh my god,” Ash laughed.
“No one ever let him forget it,” Tran said with a smile.
“We gave one of the Marines in our platoon the nickname ‘Soup’,” Dressler piped up. “‘cause her name’s Campbell.”
Spear chuckled. “My nickname doesn’t have a happy origin,” he said rather simply. That seemed to dampen the mood somewhat.
The elevator opened and the much more withdrawn Captain Diop led them down another hallway. One of the bulkheads had been knocked loose, baring thick bundles of cables. “In here.”
“Dressler, Li, stay here and guard the door,” Ashley ordered.
“Aye, aye.” Dressler touched his helmet with his gauntlet, approximating a salute. He grinned towards Li and raised his eyebrows. A chance to speak freely about the shuttle ride.
The ready room had a table for meetings as well as bunk for the captain to nap in if needed. “I’d offer refreshments but we don’t have any,” Diop said flatly, “Please take a seat.”
Shepard settled in her seat, Ash on one side of her and Spear on the other, across from Captain Diop and his XO. Shepard considered asking where the ship’s Master Chief was, but most of the probable answers weren’t good. “Let’s get to the point. My original orders were to find you and then for us to leave the cluster, alert Hackett, and for a rescue mission to be attempted. To be honest, from your sitrep, you can’t wait that long.”
“We’re going to have to find some way to get you, the Davis, and the entire crew out of Reaper space and back to somewhere safe,” Spear said. “Without any outside help.”
“We’ve been sitting here for four weeks cooking,” Diop said sharply, “If I’d had a way to magic this ship past the Reapers, I would have used it.”
Spear’s response was blunt. “I understand, sir, but if you stay here any longer, everyone on this vessel dies. Have you thought about anything you might be able to do?”
“We can make a jump,” Diop said, rubbing his face, “but we’re a carrier, and a damaged one at that. I don’t have a dreadnought’s guns, and our fighters…”
Limerick sighed. “We have lost a lot of good pilots and a chunk of our aircraft. We’re pretty much out of ammunition and fuel for them.”
“A jump may be all I need of you,” Shepard said calmly.
Spear turned his attention to Shepard, silently inviting her to continue.
“Well, there’s only one exit. As soon as you start this thing up again, the Reapers will be alerted, and they’re going to cut off our only escape.” Yung shook his head. “Our stealth drives aren’t going to help you.”
“No, that’s why we’re going to use the Reapers’ motivations against them,” Shepard leant forward, “EDI has worked out a way to broadcast my ship’s signature from your ships. All three of us will look like the Normandy to the Reapers. When the Davis breaks cover, we’ll drop stealth, and draw them off. We’ve got the fastest ships in the Navy and the best pilots.”
“You’re going to use your task force as bait?” XO Chopra’s eyebrows shot up her forehead.
Spear nodded. “Makes perfect sense to me.”
Yung was more hesitant though. “But what assurance do we have that they’d rather have you than the Davis? Surely strategy dictates they’d rather kill thousands and knock out a carrier than one ship with less than a hundred souls.”
She hesitated. “The Reapers have persistently shown an interest in killing or capturing me. They were behind the attack on the original Normandy and attempted to retrieve me afterwards. They’ve chosen to attack me over other targets previously. I don’t like relying on what I want the enemy to do, but we don’t have many choices here.”
Most of the faces at the table were shocked at the revelation - but not all. Spear, as usual, was as close to expressionless as possible, while Yung’s jaw almost hit the tabletop.
“Well, that’s certifiably insane,” he managed, after taking a few seconds to compose himself.
“Fighter pilots and N’s,” Spear remarked. “I think we do the certifiably insane on a daily basis. I have a lot of faith that Captain Shepard’s plan will work. The Davis will just need to be ready to jump away at full steam.”
Diop slowly nodded. “Very well. We don’t have any other options at this stage. My crew deserve better than a slow, painful death from the heat or starvation.”
“Thank you for your trust, Captain. I promise my fellow officers and I will do our absolute utmost to ensure we get your ship out of here.”
“In the meantime, is there anything that your crew desperately needs before we set off?” Spear asked. “We have medics, and we might be able to supply some of our engineers or material to undertake emergency repairs.”
Diop shook his head. “We need everything, but we should have sufficient supplies until we can get to safety.”
“Very well.”
“Let’s discuss timing then, Captain.” Yung looked to Shepard. “And you might need to give us a run down of how we can make the Bir Hakeim and the Ain Jalut become the Normandy.”
“The main difference between how the Mk1 and Mk2 Tantulus drives appear on scanners, according to EDI and my CHENG is the output. If you put a higher voltage into the core, it should put out the same signature as my Mk2 core. I'll have EDI send you the instructions."
"Sounds dangerous," XO Chopra observed, expression tightening.
"It'll be hard on the ships and I'd suggest maintenance time afterwards, but it won't cause a catastrophic failure, EDI assures me."
"And if this 'Edi' is wrong?" Chopra asked.
"It's our best shot." EDI didn't make mistakes about this sort of thing, but she didn't want to have to explain the illegal AI on her ship to the carrier crew.
"We can be confident in those predictions." Spear jumped in. "What about timing, ma'am?"
She barely resisted the urge to shoot him a thankful look. "I want to give the Davis some breathing room, so we’ll drop stealth first, get the Reapers to begin chasing us, then the carrier will run for the Relay.”
Yung still looked a little uneasy, but he didn’t complain. “Aye, aye, ma’am.”
“Any other questions?” Shepard asked.
They each looked around the table at the others. No one spoke, all grim.
She nodded, projecting confidence, “Then let’s get back to our ships and get this done.”
"You've got to be kidding me," Joker told Shepard, pitching his voice just low enough to get his point across without forcing her to reprimand him for insubordination. "You know what one Reaper can do. There's four in system."
Shepard put her hand on his shoulder and when their eyes met, there was a granite wall there. No give. "I'm not letting six thousand people die, Joker, not when we have a chance to get them out. We don't need to beat them, just keep them busy, and I have the best pilot in the fleet to do it."
"Trying flattery, huh?" He muttered.
She smiled slightly, "is it working?"
He sighed and reached back to grab his safety harness to pull it across his chest. "Yeah, yeah.”
Footsteps heralded the arrival of XO Wulandri, Master Chief Kouvelis and MARDET CO Williams.
“I don’t like it,” Wulandri said, frowning.
“We shouldn’t throw away this opportunity,” Ash volleyed back. Kouvelis was quiet, arms crossed across his chest.
Shepard turned and raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”
“We shouldn’t throw away our shot from stealth, Skipper,” Ash said, slashing her hand through the air, “We have a chance to do some damage here.”
Joker shot a look over his shoulder. “I know you’re a grunt, Williams, but you know we can’t kill a Reaper destroyer with a single volley.”
Ashley’s gaze sharpened into a glare, but then she looked away from him, focusing on Shepard. “We can annoy a Reaper or we can seriously damage or destroy the processing ship on Ontarom.”
“Okay, small problem,” Joker half spun in his chair, “the town is there and our main gun fires the equivalent of a thirty kiloton nuke every five seconds.”
“I know,” Ashley said.
“So you just want to kill them-”
“You think that being turned into husks and used against us is preferable?” Ashley snapped, eyes hard, “we have a chance to destroy a source of enemy reinforcements.”
“Enough,” Shepad raised a hand, cutting Joker’s reply off. She looked at Wulandri and Kouvelis, “Thoughts, X, Chief?”
“I think Williams is right,” Kouvelis said matter-of-factly.
“I don’t like it,” Wulandri repeated, “I know we can’t get the civilians out, but even…even beyond the collateral damage, it’d pull us even further away from the Relay. We’re already risking the ship, the task force to do this.”
Shepard’s face was a mask for several long seconds then she nodded. “I agree. We’re already going beyond our original orders - we can’t afford mission creep. We distract the Reapers, we get the Davis out and we get ourselves out.”
“Captain,” Williams began before Shepard shook her head.
“I appreciate the initiative, Major, but things are about to get dicey as it is. To make it a sure shot, we’d need to go in atmo, and that’s a risk I’m not comfortable taking.”
For a moment the two Spectres looked at each other. Awkward. But then Ash just nodded. “I understand, Skipper. I’ll go make sure my Marines are standing by to help the damage control parties.”
“Thank you,” Shepard gave her what looked like a genuine smile.
“I’m going to put myself in Forward Gunnery for this one,” Kouvelis said, scratching his face, “Vakarian and Lao have Main locked down, but Forward’s crew is still jumpy. I’ll settle them down.”
Or scare them into competency.
“Thank you, Chief.” Shepard looked over at Joker, “Ready to dance?”
“Always.” He shot her a razor-sharp smile. “Better get to your post, ma'am."
Wulandri was already turning away to order the ship to General Quarters. Shepard gave him a nod and turned away as the din echoed through the cockpit and CIC.
A few moments later, Shepard's orders started flowing from the CIC. "Helm, slow ahead. Engineering, prepare to exit stealth on my order. X, as soon as we drop stealth, you may go full active with our sensors. If the Reapers twitch a tentacle, we need to know about it."
Joker slid the Normandy forward and out of the debris field. With their own stealth systems engaged, the Bir Hakeim and Ain Jalut were invisible to their passive systems, but he knew they were there, flanking his ship like her shadows.
They crept forward at a slow speed, creating distance between themselves and the debris field.
"Do we have a fix on the Reapers?" Shepard asked.
"Approximates on three, ma'am," Traynor responded.
"The fourth?"
"We haven't picked it up yet. It may be behind a planet or somewhere with too much interference for the passive sensors."
"Understood. EDI, have you linked sensors with the others in the flotilla over QEC?"
"Their VIs are far inferior in capability to me, but I have managed to create a data link, yes."
"Let's hit first for once. Helm, line us up with Target Bravo. Evasive manoeuvres at your discretion," Shepard said and Joker felt the feral grin pull at his lips. He slid the ship forward, a slash of movement through the debris-choked system, and there - the Reaper floating almost serenely just in far orbit of Ontarom.
“Gunnery, lock main gun, midships,” Shepard ordered. Joker focused on the blinking red icon of the Reaper vessel, the Normandy eating up the thousands of kilometres between them. “Gunnery, fire main gun!”
The Normandy shivered as the main gun fired, a bright, burning, lance of gold that stabbed into the Reaper’s dark flank, leaving a red glowing gash behind. In the next few seconds it took for them to fire again, the Reaper turned, slipped out from beneath the second shot and was about to fire.
Joker grit his teeth and threw the ship hard to port, trusting his piloting, EDI and the ship itself. The red beam of energy passed just below the Normandy’s belly. He pushed the nose down, trying to line up another shot. Shepard had anticipated him and had already shouted for Gunnery to fire again, but the Reaper was just too damned fast. The third shot passed within kilometres of one purple-black leg, but then it was replying and he was having to wrench the Normandy up and away.
Distinctly he heard the radio chatter that announced the other ships of the task force were similarly engaged. Without EDI…
He couldn’t focus on that. Just this. A deadly dance with a Reaper in the dark of space, the wreckage of the Eighth Fleet as witness.
And the battered, lumbering giant of the SSV Benjamin Davis easing out of her hiding place and running for the Relay.
Their dance partner stayed with them. Good news, if having to dodge giant beams of death could be good news. On the sensors the Ain Jalut was playing chicken with its own tail in an asteroid field.
No wonder Commander Spear and Shepard were friends.
“Captain!” Traynor’s voice rose above the clamour of alarms and voices, “that fourth Reaper showed up and it’s going for the Davis!”
“EDI, Joker, get us there, now!” Shepard ordered.
Joker swung the ship around and accelerated, trusting EDI had already calculated the jump. A second later they slammed back out of FTL and he was right. Now they were between the Davis and the Reaper barrelling towards her, caught between giants.
Shepard’s predictions, however, proved true. The Reaper barrelled towards them, reaching forward with red light. Joker had a moment to wonder who was really the bait as he pushed the Normandy into a desperate dive, but even as he did he knew it wasn’t going to be quite enough.
Red light caught the Normandy in the port wing, boiling through armour and hull. For a moment, Joker was back in the worst moment of his life, breathing harsh in his own years.
Then, he heard EDI’s voice in his ear, cutting through the alarms in the CIC. “We are still in this, Jeff.”
And he rolled the Normandy out of the way of the second shot.
“Engineering, this is the bridge, report!” Shepard was saying into the batphone.
Joker heard snippets about the pressure hull being damaged, that there was a fire in one compartment. He blocked it out. EDI said they were still in it, and she was the wounded one.
On his display the Relay lit up as the Benjamin Davis began its approach.
The moment the Davis disappeared through the Relay, Shepard allowed herself a tight smile and someone said fuck yes, before the seriousness of the situation slipped over them again.
“How are we doing, X?” Shepard asked Wulandri.
“Adams reports they have the fire out,” Wulandri replied, “and the breach is sealed. We’ve reached 60% heat capacity. If we’re going to use the stealth system again, it’ll have to be soon.”
And they needed the IES for Shepard's exit plan. “Understood. We need to extract the other frigates first.”
The Normandy could enter and exit FTL cloaked. Her sisters couldn’t.
“Traynor, get me a link to the Bir Hakeim and Ain Jalut.”
“Channel is up, ma’am.”
“Netcall, this is Wraith, over.”
Spear’s voice came back quickly. “Wraith, this is Phantom. Send traffic, over.”
Yung was not long behind. “Wraith, Ghost. Send when ready, over.”
“Package is through the Relay. Cease broadcasting our signature and go for the Relay. We will draw the enemy off if they attempt to intercept, over.” Wulandri looked at Shepard askance.
The net was silent for a long moment.
Finally, it was broken by Yung. “Wraith, Ghost. Are you sure? I think I can shake them, over.”
“Ghost, Wraith. I’m sure. They’ll camp the Relay otherwise, over.”
“Wraith, Ghost. Acknowledged. Wilco. Out.”
Spear still hadn’t said anything as the seconds ticked by. Probably swearing his way up and down the bridge.
“Wraith, Phantom. Negative, negative. There’ll be too many and they’ll be all over you. We’ll get out. Over.”
This was why she’d sprung it on him. Spear was her friend and the opposite of a coward. He was never going to like this. “Phantom, Wraith. We have alternatives you don’t. You can’t keep up this chase for much longer, we both know it. Over.”
There was a cluck of annoyance in Spear’s tone, because she was right. “Wraith, Phantom. Damn AI. Let me lead them further away, and then we’ll drop it. Over.”
She was tempted to tell him to just do what she’d ordered but she bit her tongue before she said, measured, “Phantom, Wraith. Very well. Draw them off then drop it and go for the Relay. Don’t risk your vessel, over.”
There was one final burst of dead air. “Wraith, Phantom. Roger. See you on the other side. Out.”
Codex Entry
The SSV Benjamin Davis: The SSV Benjamin Davis CSN-10 is the second Zheng He class carrier of the Systems Alliance Navy, homeported at Ontarom. She is named after General Benjamin O. Davis, a United States Air Force general, the first African-American brigadier-general in the USAF and commander of the famed Tuskegee Airmen in World War II.
She was launched in July 2176, only one month prior to her ‘twin’, the SSV Sun Yat Sen, and after passing sea trials was assigned to the Eighth Fleet as flagship of Carrier Strike Group 10.
For much of her career, the Davis was a part of the high tempo fleet, providing Marines and air cover to the rest of the fleet and participating in the conflicts in the Traverse with the batarians and non state actors. During Operation Hammer, her Air Group flew 1200 combat sorties. Like the rest of the Eighth Fleet, the Davis saw limited action against the geth during the Eden Prime War.
The Benjamin Davis is currently under the command of Senghor Diop, with CSG-10 being commanded by Vice Admiral Geraud Cloutier.
Chapter 36: Marathon
Chapter Text
The Normandy shuddered as Joker threw the ship into another hard turn, pulling Shepard back and against her restraints. She grabbed at the podium railing to brace herself. The tac map in front of her showed little good. The Ain Jalut was in the Relay’s grip, the Bir Hakeim already disappeared through it.
Now all four Reapers were coming for the Normandy. Two were already locked in combat with them, Joker keeping just ahead of them, but they couldn’t dodge forever and they’d already taken a hit.
A red beam shot just behind the ship’s stern, missing by mere kilometres, as a third Reaper appeared on their port, this one a destroyer accelerating towards then terrifyingly fast. The Normandy was the fastest ship in the Alliance Navy and they were barely keeping up.
Shepard’s heart was a thunder in her ears. What had she gotten them into?
As soon as the doubt reared up she did her best to wrestle it back down. There was no damned time for it.
“Helm, EDI, jump us out of here as soon as the Ain Jalut is through,” she ordered.
Joker’s acknowledgement was terse. At least he wasn’t muttering to the ship or calling it ‘baby’ yet.
“They’re through,” Traynor called, and in the next moment they were thrown into a FTL jump.
“Our heat is climbing, Captain,” Adams warned over the batphone, “especially if we need to fire the Thanix again.”
“Use the heat dump system now - we might not get another chance,” she ordered.
“We’ll need to jump again after Adams does the dump,” Wulandri observed. “The heat wake will be visible across the system.”
“You heard her, EDI.”
“Calculating,” the AI responded.
“Make it a few jumps,” Shepard added, “make ‘em work for it.”
“Yes, Captain.”
“Wulandri, tell Williams to stand down the Marines and cycle them through acting as water parties for the CIC, Engineering and Weapons. We need to start thinking about heat stress.”
“Aye aye,” Wulandri reached for the comms on her own station.
Adams started the heat dumping process. Millions of silver lithium droplets erupted from the bow nozzles, a bright banner of heat on the sensors.
“Dumping complete.”
“Helm, jump us-”
A Reaper popped out of FTL a bare five thousand kilometres away, main gun already glowing bright red. The Normandy spun to port as it fired. The beam passed close enough to register on the shield sensors, klaxons sounding in the CIC as the starboard shields dropped almost immediately to 20%.
Then they popped into the FTL corridor. As soon as the ship dropped out of the jump, they were into the next one, and after that the next.
“Engage IES,” Shepard ordered after the final jump, as they were floating amidst the asteroid belt in the Herschel System. She was sweating under her uniform jacket, and Traynor was looking worse for wear, pushing damp dark hair out of her face and bracing herself against her station. When Wulandri shot her a questioning glance, she nodded before reaching for the buttons of her uniform jacket and pulling it off, followed by her uniform shirt, leaving her in her tank top. Almost immediately the CIC crew started to strip off jackets and shirts.
“Sensors?”
“I think we’ve thrown them off for now,” Traynor reported. She’d stripped down to her pants and sports bra.
“That leaves the problem of getting out of here,” Wulandri said, “They’ll be watching the Relay and at close range, they’ll pick us up regardless of whether we have the IES running.”
“Yeah. Joker, EDI, how close can we get and still make a run?”
“Close,” Joker replied, “but there’s a chance they catch us, and once we’re connected - well, you know the risks.”
It could be done, but they’d be vulnerable as hell. Dropping out of a Relay run once you were connected could risk tearing the ship apart.
“It’s a risk we’ll have to take.”
Traynor had asked Joker the other day over lunch in the mess how he dealt with those moments where the lives of everyone on the Normandy were in his hands. He’d said flippantly that he just didn’t think about it, but it was true.
Right now there was just him, his controls, his ship and where he had to go. Everything else was gone.
Shepard was quiet now that her orders were given and the low hum of voices between the CIC crew were distant.
There was jsut the moment the Normandy came out of the FTL jump, rocking him back in his seat with the turned down dampeners, the glow of the Relay on his instruments and the forbidding red signatures of the two Reapers guarding it.
He pushed the engines as hard as they could go into flank speed, hurtling the ship towards the Relay - and the Reapers. EDI was with him the entire time, adjusting power draw and the drive core in sync with what he needed, faster than any human could have, and leaving the rest to his creativity.
A beam missed narrowly over the starboard as he tilted her to port to evade it. Behind him, he heard someone ask, incredulously, what the fuck he was doing. EDI didn’t need to ask. She already knew. They were like one being, pilot and ship, dancing between slashes of weapons fire that could rip the ship apart.
The Relay caught them just as they slid between the two Reaper destroyers. Eye of the hurricane, he thought grimly as their enemies paused for the first time to fire.
And then they were propelled through the Relay.
When he decelerated, Joker let out a long breath. “Okay, EDI?”
“Yes, Jeff,” she responded.
“The damage-”
“Is not structural nor has it damaged significant systems. I am fine. Are you?”
He smiled and scratched his beard, “If you’re fine, so am I.”
The Normandy popped out of the Relay and Shepard let herself lean forward, grasping the railing in front of her. Sweat slid down her temple.
“Well, that was fun,” Wulandri said dryly.
Shepard’s console instantly crackled to life. “Wraith, this is Ghost. Do you read, over?”
She clicked open her comms, “Ghost, Wraith, we read you, over.”
“Wraith, Ghost. Good to see you in one piece. All sensors clear here, but we need to move and vent heat ASAP. We’ll exchange StatReps elsewhere, over.”
“Ghost, Wraith. Copy. Did the Davis go on ahead, over?”
“Wraith, Ghost. Yeah, with Phantom as an escort. He told me to tell you he’s pissed. Over.”
Shepard smiled despite herself, “Ghost, Wraith. Acknowledged. Let’s get out of here, over.”
“Wraith, Ghost. I’ll beam you RV coordinates shortly. The cavalry’s nearby. Out.”
“Wulandri, stand this ship down from General Quarters to Condition Three, modified Condition Zebra.” The crew must be exhausted.
“Aye, ma’am.”
An hour later, the Bir Hakeim and the Normandy reached the RV coordinates, a cluster of friendly IFF signatures in between two planets - a gas giant and an ice planet. The Benjamin Davis was in the atmosphere of the gas giant, clearly discharging and venting heat. A steady stream of shuttles went between the carrier and the flotilla’s flagship, likely carrying repair parties and wounded sailors and Marines out. The flagship was a vessel Shepard hadn't expected to see, nor here.
The SSV Orizaba, the same size as the Davis but with the huge dual muzzles of two spinal guns protruding from her bow and sides lined with banks of broadsides and torpedo tubes. The ships surrounding her were the rest of her strike group - heavy cruisers and destroyers to reinforce her fire in battle and a few frigates to act as scouts and screening vessels.
Her mother's command.
Shepard swallowed, staring at the dreadnought’s labelled signature for a long moment.
She’d had to try and not think about her family too much. She’d known the Orizaba had escaped the slaughter in the Arcturus Stream, but little since.
“Normandy, Bir Hakeim, this is Orizaba. Do you require assistance, over?” It wasn’t her mother’s voice, but a man's, smooth and with a spacer's drawl.
“Orizaba, Normandy, negative, over.”
“Orizaba, Bir Hakeim, negative. Over.”
“Bir Hakeim, Normandy, Orizaba. Acknowledged. When ready, please have your commanding officers come aboard. Admiral Hackett wishes to debrief you here, over,”
“Orizaba, Normandy, affirm. Once I get my ship in position to discharge and ascertain the status of my task force, I will come aboard, over.”
“Orizaba, Bir Hakeim. Wilco. Will send a message when we’re boarding a shuttle. Over.”
The Normandy burned towards the ice planet. She opened the taskforce channel, “Netcall, Wraith. STATREP, over.”
If the Ain Jalut had already started discharging, they would have had to turn their comms and sensors off, in which case she’d need to use the QEC to communicate with Spear.
Yung’s voice came back on quickly, since he’d arrived at the same time as Shepard. “Wraith, Ghost. All systems green, no damage, no casualties. We made it out without a scratch. Damn good flying. Over.”
“Acknowledged. We have a hull breach, but no casualties. Over.”
Yung breathed a sigh of relief when he flicked the comm. “Glad to hear it. Phantom didn’t say anything when he came through the relay, so I imagine he’s in good shape. I’d bet he’s already venting though. I’ll see you on the Oribaza, yeah? Out.”
Shepard looked at Wulandri, “Go tell the Ain Jalut and tell them the order for Spear to come aboard the Orizaba. I’m going to go chat with Adams, then we can get the ship set to discharge.”
“Aye, ma’am.”
Engineering, with its nearness to the nuclear reactor and drive core, was sweltering. Gabby Daniels grabbed the edge of her station and found the metal was warm to the touch. Her hair was sticking uncomfortably to her neck and face.
The heat had even shut Kenneth up.
Mostly.
"I'm too Scottish for this temperature," he muttered over readouts from the reactor. His face was flushed from the warmth and he'd taken his shirt off and rolled his fatigue pants up until they were almost shorts.
"And yet you joined the Navy," she said, unable to summon her normal joking tone when paying him out.
"I'm bloody nuts, aren't I?"
"Get some water, you two," Adams ordered. Somehow Adams still seemed composed, though he had stripped down to his undershirt. "We have twenty minutes until we're ready to discharge and vent, and I don't need you two to pass out from heat stress."
"Aye aye." She tugged apathetically on Kenneth's arm and then grimaced at how sweaty they both were.
Just outside the Engineering Control Room stood Corporal Hakim, a carrier full of water bottles in hand. He looked as miserable as Gabby felt, though she had to suppress a smile at his 'outfit': some very much not regulation Blasto boxers and his combat boots.
She had to admit it was a nice view, with his sculpted chest and smooth olive skin, interrupted by what looked like an old gunshot splotched above his right hip and twin scars across his pecs.
Of course the thought of anything beyond looking made her want to lie down, but what was the point of having Marines around if you couldn't admire their muscles sometimes?
Hakim caught her watching and sent her a small, sly smile before handing her a water bottle. "Here, Daniels."
"Thanks, Hakim," she smiled back.
"Thanks mate," Kenneth said loudly, stepping forward and holding out his hand, the line of his mouth tight.
Hakim blinked and then handed over another bottle. "Okay. Listen, how bad is the hole?"
It took a second for Gabby's brain to grind into gear and work out what he meant.
"Its fine," Kenneth said, a touch testily.
"No one got hurt, our critical systems are okay…" she softened what her best friend has said, "as dual hull breaches go, that's about as good as it gets."
Hakim nodded, "I'm glad. I don't like it - not being to do anything while we're getting attacked, but you guys did a great job."
"Don't you get shot at for a living?" Kenneth raised a red eyebrow.
Hakim shrugged. "Yes, but I get to shoot back."
Whatever Kenneth was going to reply with was interrupted by footsteps, followed by the appearance of their captain. Shepard was missing her jacket and uniform shirt, but she looked as upright and intense as usual.
"Ma'am," they echoed respectfully.
Shepard gave them a tight smile, "You did well today, I'm proud of you all."
"Is it true we fought four bloody Reapers?" Donnelly asked, "Ma'am."
Shepard tilted her head slightly, "It was less fighting than running away, but yes, there were four."
"We are the most badass frigate ever," Kenneth said with satisfaction.
Shepard smiled again, a little wider this time, "Goddamn straight."
"Did the rest of the task force and the carrier get out, ma'am?" Gabby asked.
Shepard nodded. "Everyone got out. I'd call it a victory."
Clearcut wins were in short supply.
"Thank god, ma'am," she said with feeling.
"Adams in the ECC?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Thanks. You'll get to rest soon."
The Kodiak settled on the Orizaba’s flight deck and Shepard stepped out, very glad she'd taken the extra ten minutes to shower and put on a fresh uniform. An officer was waiting for her and extended a hand to shake.
“Captain Shepard, I am Commander Nguyen, the Orizaba’s navigator. I will show you to the QEC room.”
“I’m surprised the Orizaba is here,” she observed as they got into the elevator at the far end of the flight deck. The Orizaba’s flight deck felt big enough to fit the SR1 in.
Nguyen hit a button and the elevator jerked into motion. “The Reaper presence in system was assessed to be sufficient to necessitate the deployment of a DSG. The Fleet Admiral is using the Fifth Fleet as a strike force when we get the opportunity to hit back, so we were allocated to the mission. Of course, you proved us unnecessary.”
“The situation meant the plan had to change,” she replied, “if I’d come out and thrown you guys in, it’s likely a lotta people would’ve died only for the Davis to be, well, crispy.”
He nodded. Serious guy, this one. “What we have heard from Captain Diop suggested as much.”
The rest of the ride was quiet, until they stepped out into another steel-grey corridor.
“Just in here, ma’am,” Nguyen gestured, “Your fellow task force officers have said they will be here soon.”
“Thank you.”
She stepped inside. The QEC room was somewhat similar to the old one on the SR2, with a briefing room set up as well as the QEC. She rubbed her face. She knew her body was exhausted but she still felt wired, the remnants of adrenaline rushing in her blood.
The door opened and she turned, hal expecting her two subordinates. Instead, standing there was Commodore Hannah Shepard, who immediately rushed forward to grab her in a hug. Shepard froze for a surprised second before hugging back fiercely, letting the fear she’d barely acknowledged about her mother flow out of her.
“I’m certain that ninety percent of my grey hairs are because of you,” her mother said into her shoulder before stepping back and examining her, “You look tired, darling.”
“I am tired,” she admitted, “but you know how it is. I had a job to do.”
Hannah opened her mouth and then shut it. She cupped the side of her face tenderly, “I’ve been so afraid for you.”
“I’m okay,” she murmured. “I got my ship back.”
“You did,” Hannah said, almost hesitantly. Hesitant had never been a word Shepard associated with her mother. “Listen, Nick is alright. I had his class brought aboard the Orizaba shortly before the invasion hit, and he’s been in training since. He’s due to commission soon.”
“Is he…?”
“He’s put in for armour and infantry,” Hannah said, her mouth a tight line, “but it will all depend on his scores and the Marine Corps’ needs of course.”
Shepard nodded. Her brother hadn’t messaged her or visited her since she’d been detained. There was only the knowledge that Alchera had sent his life careening onto a new path, one that was now leading him into combat. “Jefa, I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For Nick,” she said simply.
Hannah shook her head, hands resting on Shepard’s shoulders. “Nicholas is a grown man now. His decisions are his own.”
In Shepard’s memories, Nicholas was a gentle sixteen year old still. She wondered if this would always be the case - these unexpected jabs of grief for the two years she’d lost, that left her feeling like a guest in her own life.
The door slid open and Hannah stepped back slightly, dropping her hands from Shepard’s shoulders.. Yung and Spear were silhouetted in the doorway.
Yung paused, hesitating, as if he were contemplating stepping back through and giving them some privacy. Spear was undeterred though, and powered through. Despite the time that had passed, he was still in his hardsuit. Yung reluctantly followed behind, sporting his cammies and his Bir Hakeim cap. Spear cleared his throat.
“Commanders Spear and Yung, reporting as ordered ma’am.”
Hannah gave Shepard a small smile. “I should leave you to it. Let me know if you have time to talk before going back to your ship.”
“I will.”
When Hannah was gone, Shepard turned to the two Commanders. “Good to see you both in one piece.”
Spear’s expression was in a hard line, and with a little venom, he replied, “You too.”
Yung could sense the tension (and had clearly copped it from Spear on the way up), so looked uncomfortable. “I’m so glad your plan worked.”
“I am too.” She looked at Spear and raised an eyebrow. “I know you have something to say, out with it.”
“Aye, ma’am. I think your actions were entirely reckless and placed the Normandy, her crew, and yourself in considerable danger, especially after you had already sustained damage. There’s a reason why Hackett had you lead the task force, why you’ve been so vital ever since you came back. Your role in the war effort is critical.” He pinched his hands together, for emphasis.
“It would have been preferable that the Ain Jalut be destroyed than the Normandy.” He was upset, clearly, that Shepard had drawn the entirety of the Reaper’s presence upon herself, despite the good reason to do so. Still, he was a deeply cynical man, and the dispassionate way in which he spoke about his own theoretical death was… disconcerting.
“Spear,” Yung said, almost gently. “It worked out fine, and no one died. Including you.”
“This time,” he said. “But the daredevil, cowboy attitude doesn’t always work. I don’t mean to be harsh…” He turned back to Shepard. “But your luck ran out over Alchera. We cannot afford to have it run out again.”
She couldn’t help the flinch at the mention of Alchera, or the surge of responding temper it brought. She took a measured breath to stop it bubbling over. When she’d woken up last year, she’d too often let her anger rule her. “I took a calculated risk to ensure all of us got out of there. I knew my ship had more extensive stealth capabilities than yours.”
Again, he repeated, “It worked this time. I’m… very grateful that we all got out.” He softened a little. “So, thank you. I just mean for the future… You need to be more careful.”
“Your concerns are noted,” she said, a touch stiffly. “What’s your STATREP?”
Spear was all business again. “Nil wounded, some minor scrapes to the ship - not from the Reapers, from the debris fields. I left the Ain Jalut venting and repairing. We’re still in fighting shape, though she’ll need a couple of days in drydock to fix whatever we can’t out here. No issues with continuing on a new tasking if those are the orders.” Spear looked at Yung. “You’ll need to make arrangements for the Eighth Fleet bodies that you recovered.”
Yung nodded somberly. “I will. At least we’ll bring some closure to some families. … Assuming we can find next of kin.”
“Hackett is going to debrief us. While the Normandy can also continue tasking if necessary, I’d rather us get repaired and restocked.”
Yung and Spear said, in unison, “Agreed.”
Continuing, Yung said, “I hope the task force doesn’t get disbanded, though. Things went well. We’re an effective team.”
Spear nodded. “Problem is, people - and ships - like ours, are in short supply.”
Shepard crossed her arms, “I’ll talk to Hackett about it.”
Talk of the devil. The QEC pinged.
She stepped forward to answer it. “Sir,” she said respectfully, “Task Force 57 reporting as ordered.”
Hackett’s piercing blue stare was difficult to meet even though the haze of the QEC projection.
Both Yung and Spear stood straighter, meeting the gaze dead on. They each nodded, and uttered a small, “Sir.”
“I have been informed you extracted the Davis yourself. Report, Captain.”
Shepard talked him through how they had searched the cluster, her rescue of Hunter Team on Ontarom, Yung’s retrieval of bodies, and then the process of extracting the Davis and why she had decided they couldn’t wait.
At the end, Hackett’s stare had sharpened further. “The Normandy and yourself are important, high level assets to the Alliance, Captain. I’m disappointed that they were risked in such a manner.”
She lifted her chin. “I believed the risk was warranted, given my vessel’s increased capabilities and that it would preserve the rest of the task force.”
“For what it’s worth, sir,” Spear spoke up, looking just the tiniest bit smug, “both Commander Yung and I fully backed Captain Shepard’s decision. I would not have gone along, otherwise.”
“Frankly, sir,” Yung agreed, “there was no way out for the Ain Jalut and the Bir Hakeim without the Normandy.”
The smugness aside, she did appreciate them both backing her up in front of her commanding officer.
Hackett looked between them. “I will expect a full report, Captain.”
“Of course, sir. I request that we return to the Citadel for dry dock repairs and restocking.”
“Granted.”
“Sir, if I might ask, what is the future of the task force? We believe we worked effectively together and that we can be an asset.”
Hackett paused. “There is a debate whether to reassign the Bir Hakeim and Aiin Jalut to their fleets versus the strategic impact of a Normandy class task force. I will read your report - and I would like a report from you too, Commanders - and make my final decision then. For now, return to home port and get your repairs and resupply done.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Hackett out.”
The image of the Fleet Admiral vanished.
Yung rubbed his eyes. Exhaustion was close to setting in - but that wasn’t his issue. “Man, that’s stressful.”
“Speaking to the Admiral?” Spear asked. “Yep.”
“It is,” Shepard agreed, “He’s always had my back when it mattered, but damned if it doesn’t feel like walking a tightrope.”
“Well, at least we had the opportunity to prove the task force. As long as our reports are in shape, I think we can hold onto some hope.”
Spear nodded. “Agreed. When we’re all back at the Citadel, I’ll sit down with you and we’ll make sure these i’s are dotted and the t’s crossed. For now… I think you both need some rest.”
Shepard rubbed her face. “Yeah. Our crews need it too.”
Codex Entry
Ninth Dreadnought Strike Group:
Dreadnought Strike Groups are the heaviest hitting units of the SAN, consisting of the formidable fire-power of a flagship dreadnought, heavy cruisers and destroyers for additional fighting power and frigates for scouting and screening purposes. An Alliance fleet usually contains one or two DSGs and one to two carrier strike groups formed around carriers.
The Ninth Dreadnought Strike Group (9DSG), also known as the Orizaba Strike Group, is the second of the DSGs assigned to the Fifth Fleet and contains the SSV Orizaba, which supplanted the SSV Everest as the fleet's flagship in 2185. It was briefly the flagship of Fleet Admiral Steven Hackett prior to his appointment as Chief of Navy, though his preference of the Everest was well known to be one of his few admitted sentimentalities.
9DSG structure:
Commanding Officer: Rear Admiral Ayaan Malik
Executive Officer: Commodore Hans Weber
SSV Orizaba (DSN-9), Orizaba-class dreadnought. Commanded by Commodore Hannah Shepard.
Strike Fighter Squadron 45
Commanding Officer: Commander Thomas Strickland
Cruiser Division 19 (CDIV 19)
Commanding Officer: Commodore Hannah Shepard
SSV Sydney, Dresden-class heavy cruiser.
SSV Los Angeles, Dresden-class heavy cruiser.
SSV Lviv, Dresden-class heavy cruiser.
SSV Kolkata, Dresden-class heavy cruiser.
Destroyer Squadron 23 (DESRON 23)
Commanding Officer: Commodore Jiang Le
Destroyer Division 34 (DESDIV 34)
SSV Balaclava, Somme-class destroyer.
SSV Tours, Somme-class destroyer.
SSV Gaugamela, Somme-class destroyer.
SSV Metaurus, Somme-class destroyer.
Destroyer Division 53 (DESDIV 53)
SSV Châlons, Marathon-class destroyer.
SSV Nedao, Somme-class destroyer.
SSV Tannenburg, Somme-class destroyer.
SSV Verdun, Somme-class destroyer.
Chapter 37: Date Night
Chapter Text
The SSV Ain Jalut was abuzz with activity. The damage sustained during the search had been fixed quickly. It wasn't a proper hull breach like the Normandy, and the wartime, experienced Navy crews worked swiftly.
Now, it floated silently in the inky black, amid the safety of Fifth Fleet ships, out of the way of the endless stream of refugee steamers.
As Shepard's shuttle streaked towards the Normandy-class frigate - one of the old ones - the Ain Jalut's chief air officer announced their intention to board over the radio.
Looking at the Ain Jalut was like looking at a ghost. Shepard shivered and looked away from the camera feed. Wrong hull number and name painted in white on her hull, but the same familiar silhouette.
“That’s just eerie,” Wulandri muttered.
The pilot looked over his shoulder. "She's older than yours, ma'am. And made by the Alliance."
“Not older than ours,” Wulandri said, a little flatly.
Shepard rubbed at hr uniform sleeve, the one hiding the little triangular tattoo she’d gotten of the SR1.
The pilot said nothing as he brought the shuttle in to the cramped cargo-bay-slash flight-deck and touched down. Not long after the cabin depressurized and the door hissed open, the Ain Jalut flight crew escorted them out of the shuttle and to where Commander Spear and two others - a male sailor and a female Marine - stood waiting.
“Spear,” Shepard greeted, “have you met my executive officer, Commander Wulandri, before?”
“In passing,” Wulandri said, a little awkwardly, “but I don’t think we’ve spoken, sir.”
"One or twice, I think." Spear leaned forward to shake her hand. "A pleasure, Commander. This is my XO-" he gestured to the man to his left "-Lieutenant Commander Yeo, and my MARDET Commander, Lieutenant Mavros." He indicated to the woman on his other side.
They all shook hands and exchanged "how do you do"'s, before Spear gestured towards the elevator. "I imagine it's been some time since either of you have been on one of the older Normandy classes."
“Yes,” Shepard said simply before she managed a tight smile, “Did they ever fix the elevator?”
Yeo laughed and Mavros snickered. Even Spear's eyes crinkled in a rare smile. "No, unfortunately." He pressed the button to ascend to the crew deck. Slowly, almost protesting five bodies inside, the elevator crawled upwards. "I did try to get a petition from the other Normandy class captains, but democracy is dead in the Navy."
“All that talk about efficiency,” she said lightly. “And all of Mikhailovich’s complaints about her design, he couldn’t sneak in one bit about the damned elevator?”
"Lowest bidder and all that," Yeo replied.
"Too much money on the drive core, perhaps?" Mavros offered.
"And we pay the price," Spear joked. "If Cerberus does one thing right, it's elevators."
“And the leather seats,” Wulandri added.
Yeo and Mavros glanced at one another, clearly not sure if she was kidding. Spear shook his head at them. They looked at Wulandri in amazement.
The elevator doors opened, finally, and allowed them to enter onto the crew deck. It was abuzz with activity, sailors travelling every which way as supplies, boxes, and materials were carted around.
"As you can see, we're just finishing our resupp. The crew enjoyed some shore leave, but it'll be back at it again soon." He gestured towards the meeting room. "In here."
Much like the Normandy, the meeting room had been revamped to jam as many computers, arrays, and servers into the room. The QEC was pushed as far back as it could fit, but it was still bulky and had a large profile.
“How’s the report looking?” Shepard asked, taking a seat.
"Good," Spear said, sliding in opposite. "Almost done. I have a couple of things I want to cross reference with Yung. Then you can have a look for your records, ma'am."
"Excellent. Any thoughts? I'd like to take advantage of my meeting with Hackett tomorrow to put some good words in."
Spear stroked his chin. "Yung performed very well. The body recovery was appropriate, in hindsight. I was, perhaps, too… cautious at the time. A morale victory, if nothing else."
Yeo and Mavros shared a look. Clearly there had been a lot of discussion aboard the Ain Jalut about this very issue.
She nodded slowly. “These sorts of missions could be an important role for us, if Command accepts the recommendation to keep the task force together.”
"That's what we've been hoping for," said Yeo. "We did some real good work with the Benjamin Davis. Most of the rest of the war has just been depressing."
Spear nodded. "It's wearing us all down."
“It has,” Shepard said, “it feels good to get a win for once.”
“So when do you think you’ll hear from the Admiral? About the Task Force?”
"Soon, hopefully. He's a busy man, unfortunately."
“And only getting busier,” Spear said grimly.
With the ship in drydock, the Normandy felt oddly empty, much of her crew having spilled out of the gangway and into the bright lights of the Citadel. Most of them were looking for a drink to decompress after their last mission.
Decompressing sounded pretty damn good to Ashley Williams, but there was just one small problem. She had a workaholic girlfriend.
"Hey," she called as the door to Shepard's cabin slid open.
"Hello," Shepard said, looking up from her laptop.
Ashley leant against the wall, arms crossed and a teasing smile dancing across her lips. "You know we have shore leave, right?"
One dark eyebrow arched. "Yes, considering I'm the one that authorised it."
"So instead of taking your own order, you're...?"
Shepard glanced down at her screen. "Writing a report."
"Nerd," she murmured, walking forward until she was looming over the other woman. Despite the report, she knew she had Shepard's attention by the way her eyes followed her movements, the way she tilted her head back to look at her.
"Some would call it responsible."
"Mm," she leant down and kissed her, lingering long enough to have Shepard unconsciously chasing her lips when she pulled back. "Dinner."
Shepard blinked, "Dinner?"
"Dinner. You owe me a date."
Shepard glanced at her report and then back at her before a small smile flitted across her lips. "More than one, I think."
"Exactly. Get changed and let's go get dinner. Just spend some time together before we have to go deal with another crisis."
Shepard paused and smiled, a little sheepishly, "I don't have a lot of civvies."
"Baby," she said, fond exasperation trickling through her, "our first proper date isn't going to be with you in uniform. We'll go shopping."
"The gala doesn't count?"
"No, it doesn't. C'mon."
Fifteen minutes later, Ashley was very pleased with Operation: Get Emilia Away From Her Paperwork as they stepped out of the docking tube and past Lance Corporal Westmoreland and PFC Campbell on guard duty.
"Have a good evening, ma'ams," Lance Corporal Westmoreland said.
"We're gonna be scuttlebutt tomorrow," Shepard murmured as they headed towards the elevator.
“I hate to break it to you, Skipper, but we’re always scuttlebutt. I’m pretty sure Hunter had a betting pool about whether we’d get back together.”
“Remember when we were subtle about it,” Shepard said dryly.
“Mmm,” Ash pretended to think, “No.”
Shepard raised an eyebrow. “We were-”
“Oh, sure, babe, you had your stone mask impression happening, but I was so bad at hiding how in love with you I was,” Ashley laughed, “I kept telling myself I had to hide how I felt from, you but then I’d blurt out about wanting to kiss you.” She gave Shepard a fond smile, “And you - you’re you but I knew you cared about me. That maybe you even loved me back, but…”
“You never said anything,” Shepard murmured, “not even after I kissed you.” Shepard’s hand slid into hers, tangling their fingers together.
“You were so-” Ash squeezed her hand, “Professional. Mission-first. And it was so clear you regretted kissing me - I thought you’d choose our careers first and I’d lose you completely. I thought if I didn’t make a big deal out of it, maybe I could keep your friendship at least.”
Shepard was looking at her, something soft in her gaze, “I wish I could redo that. Our first kiss.”
The elevator hummed around them. “I don’t,” Ash said, and meant it, “we’ve never been easy, Skipper, but it’s always been worth it.”
“I love you, cariño.”
“I love you too.”
Ninety minutes later they were walking through the Presidium hand-in-hand, Shepard having exchanged her cammies for a button-up, jeans and a leather jacket. Ashley was very admiring of the look on her - and looking forward to taking it off her after they had dinner.
“How’s Sarah doing?” Shepard asked, an empathetic frown crinkling her forehead.
Ash sighed. “She’s still - well. It’s been rough.”
She knew what it felt like. She’d been there. It was just hard to know how to say I know how you feel when Ashley had gotten Shepard back. Sarah was never getting Thomas back.
“Of course,” Shepard said softly.
“She’s thinking of putting up his picture on the memorial, down in the refugee docks. I hate seeing her in so much pain and not being able to do anything about it.” She was Sarah’s big sister. She was supposed to be able to protect her.
Shepard squeezed her hand. “Sometimes all we can do is be there.”
“Yeah. It just - sucks.”
“Yeah.” Shepard’s omnitool pinged and she frowned down at it, before glancing at Ash almost guiltily before she opened the message, her frown deepening as she read.
“What is it?”
“Agent Jordan Noles from the E-Crimes division of CSec. She thinks someone is using old batarian diplomatic goals to get into the Citadel’s systems.”
Ash raised an eyebrow. “Why the fuck do the codes still work?”
Shepard’s expression sharpened. “It seems our jobs as Spectres is to clean up other people’s incompetence. I should get the details from her.”
“You call her, I’ll go check the menu over there,” she jerked her chin towards a nearby restaurant.
“Thanks, Ash,” she murmured, already engrossed in her omnitool.
Ash walked away, shaking her head fondly.
Workaholic. Not that she was much better.
She was halfway through the menu when she heard someone scream.
“He’s got a gun!”
The richly dressed diplomats and rich around her scattered as Ash whirled, and found something out of a nightmare behind her.
An all too familiar batarian standing behind Emilia Shepard, pistol in hand.
“Balak!” she shouted, pulling her sidearm out of its holster on her hip.
Ash’s pistol grip was cold in her hand as she raised it - and then lowered it because damnit. Balak was standing behind Shepard, the muzzle of his pistol jammed between the blades of her shoulders. She didn’t have a damned shot.
“You should have killed me, Williams, on that asteroid,” Balak snarled.
Yes, I fucking should have. She hadn’t. She hadn’t because half her team had been trying to save the civilians he’d strapped to a fucking bomb, and Hernandez had been bleeding out in hr arms. She’d had a choice between pursuing and killing Balak and saving Maria Hernandez.
She’d chosen wrong.
“You pull that trigger and you’re a dead man,” she snapped.
“I don’t care,” he said, and Ashley realised to her horror she believed him, “Everything that has happened to my people is your fault, Shepard. Half of my people are puppets and the rest are refugees in a galaxy that looks down on them. I’m trapped on this Citadel,” he spat the station’s name like a curse, “and my warships are blind to the movements of the enemy.” The malice in his eyes sharpened to a knife edge. “I can’t save my people but I can end you. For her part in my people’s demise, your lover can watch you die.”
No, no, no. She didn’t have a fucking shot!
Shepard’s eyes met Ash’s. They were calm and icy, like two pieces of cold black agate.
“You’re not going to pull that trigger,” Shepard said, with all the confidence in the world. “You know what I’m doing.”
Ash was reminded, suddenly, of another day, in the Citadel Council, another man standing in front of Shepard with a gun. Another time where Ash couldn’t get a shot.
“Yes,” Balak mused, his hand never wavering, “forging alliances, creating armies and fleets.”
“Exactly. Killing me would ensure no one would ever help your fleet or your people. Hell, it might tear the alliances between my government and the others apart. And then the Reapers will wipe out the rest of your people and there will be no one left to mourn them.” Shepard turned to face the batarian, the pistol pointed at her heart, “And you know that. Hate me all you want, but I’m the only architect of salvation you’re going to get. We’re all you have left.”
“I could kill you,” Balak insisted, “I could do it right now!”
Shepard didn’t move. “You won’t. You’ll join us.”
The gun wavered and then lowered to the floor. He spat out angrily, “My ships are yours.”
He turned to go.
“Dracor Pacwanar,” Shepard said, voice like stone, “Your ships are Dracor Pacwanar’s.”
“That - traitor -”
“He’s the only one who cares to save you. You’ll obey him.”
“Fine.”
Ash raised her pistol but Shepard shook her head. “Let him go.”
It wasn;t the voice of her girlfriend, but the order of her captain. The gun lowered reluctantly and the batarian was gone in seconds, swallowed up by the crowd.
“Shepard,” she began.
“As much as I’d love you to put a bullet in his head, we’re all making sacrifices today,” Shepard said dispassionately.
“He’s a murderer,” she snapped, “he killed innocent civilians and Alliance soldiers-”
“So have I,” Shepard said, still in that ice-cool voice.
“Shepard,” she recoiled, “that’s not-”
“It doesn’t matter,” Shepard looked away then, “what matters is that we need his ships.”
“So what, we work with the fucking External Forces?”
“If that’s what it costs to save humanity, yes,” Shepard snapped around to look at her, “We’re asking the krogan to put aside the genocide, the quarians the Morning War - I’m asking you to do the same with him.” At the look on Ashley’s face, something like remorse flashed across Shepard’s face, “I’m sorry, Ash, I know you had a run in with him before, but…”
Ash sighed, shoulders slumping as she shoved her pistol back into its holster, “He’s not going to stop hating humanity, Shepard. He’s not trustworthy.”
“He’s a problem for another day, Ash.”
“Okay. Okay. So much for one day for us, huh?”
Shepard smiled very slightly, “The galaxy is conspiring against our love life, apparently.”
Ash walked over and took Shepard’s hand in two of her own, So have I still reverberating in her skull. You’re not. You care more than Balak ever could. Bahak is what you were forced to do, not who you are. She didn’t say it. She didn’t think Shepard was in a place to hear it, not yet. “The night’s still young, Skipper. Let’s just get some takeaway and go to one of the viewing docks. I know you love that shit, you nerd.”
“Nerd?” Shepard arched an eyebrow, but she was smiling more genuinely now, and when Ash tugged on her hand, she followed.
Codex Entry
Structure of the Unified Allied Command:
Proposal for the establishment of a Unified Allied Command Headquarters (excerpt regarding proposed structure) Commander Emilia Shepard, Threat Assessment Office, Systems Alliance Navy
Given the deficiencies of current joint forces structures, it would be tempting to decide to simply allow each allied nation to command and direct their own forces. In the opinion of the author, this would be a deeply concerning error. Command and control of large forces in a time of galactic war poses a serious challenge to Citadel nations. Without a unified command, this would create duplications of logistics chains and inevitable issues around ultimate command and strategy. It was exactly this issue that led to the establishment of the Citadel Defence Force during the Krogan Rebellions.
A unified command will simplify command decisions, logistics and operations, while allowing allied nations to collaborate on major policy and war-direction decisions. The overall directing body of this ‘Unified Allied Command’ would be a combined chiefs-of-staff committee, consisting of the major allies such as the Turian Hierarchy, Systems Alliance, Asari Republics and Salarian Union of Planets, dependent on the approval of those nations. This body would decide strategic responsibilities of each member and the appointment of a Supreme Allied Commander, though the possibility of co-commanders if only the Hierarchy and Alliance should join this command should be considered.
Rather than troops being directed by individual national commands, they would instead be delineated along the lines of theatre commands with an overall theatre commander with authority over all allied forces within their area of operations. The likely geographical theatres would include: Outer Citadel Space, Inner Council Space, Systems Alliance Space, Attican Traverse, and if necessary, a Terminus theatre command.
In addition to operational theatre commands, unified strategic, transport and special operations commands would simplify such operations and ensure unity of purpose, logistics and special capabilities.
Chapter 38: The Problem With Drydocks
Notes:
I'm not dead!
Chapter Text
Lieutenant Greg Adams stared through the glass windows overlooking the drydock, his head pounding with a mild headache. He hadn’t slept well the previous night, tossing and turning. Lieutenant Jaksch had slept like a log.
Hardsuited men and women crawled over the Normandy’s hull, static lines securing them to her in the weightlessness of vacuum. They’d peeled off three armoured plates from her outer hull, revealing the metal skeleton and smooth pressure hull beneath, and were now fitting the first of the replacement plates. Adams had noted the scorch marks on the pressure hull with a ball of anxiety in his gut.
“Lieutenant Adams,” a voice called.
He turned to see the drydock manager. The foreman was a short, stout man with greying hair and a close-cropped goatee, still dressed in his hardsuit and his helmet tucked under his arm.
“Mr Young,” Adams said and they shook hands. “Do you have an update?”
Shepard had asked him to get an ETA on when the ship would be ready to leave the drydock. Command wanted to retask the Normandy. Shepard had told him that if they needed more time, they needed more time, but there was a harried look in her eyes, and Adams had wondered how vital a mission it’d need to be to force Shepard’s hand.
Young rubbed his jaw, “We’ve got a coupla hours left on the first plate. I’d say…ten hours all up, if we don’t take a break.”
“How long if you do?” Adams asked.
Young smiled thinly, “If we’re not workin’ on your ship, we’ll be working on a different one. The brass said to prioritise the Normandy so that’s what we’ll do, but I have six ships waiting for this berth.”
“I noticed some damage on the pressure hull,” Adams said instead of arguing. The drydock crews were working long shifts in uncomfortable suits, under immense pressure due to the line of ships needing repairs or maintenance. It seemed inevitable to him that a mistake would happen - he just hoped it wouldn’t be on the Normandy.
“It’s superficial,” Young said, “Some scorching, that’s all.”
Adams glanced over at the Normandy, “We took a hit from a Reaper weapon. If the pressure hull is compromised-”
Young scowled. “It ain’t. At most, you’ve lost a few millimetres of metal in those spots, well within her tolerance. I got ships with four, five pressure hull breaches waiting.”
Unsaid was that if they were to repair the pressure hull, cutting out the damaged portion, welding in a new portion and taking the time to pressure test, the Normandy would be clogging up the drydock for another day or so. And Young had ships with five hull breaches waiting.
Adams couldn’t exactly blame him for his resentment or his wish to get the Normandy out of his dock as soon as possible, but he thought of scored metal and grimaced to himself. He’d have to talk to EDI about it, see if she had any ideas beyond them running their own pressure tests.
“Alright,” he said calmly, “I’ll let my captain know.”
Young nodded. “Yeah, alright. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”
Adams watched the exhausted dockworker leave and sighed to himself. “EDI, thoughts?”
He’d decided to let EDI download a program to his omnitool that allowed them to communicate even in places she didn’t have speakers. He had the engineer’s dream - a ship that could talk back to him, tell him if things were wrong, and he wasn’t going to waste it.
“The damage isn’t structural. On a balance of probabilities, the foreman is correct and the pressure hull will hold for sufficient pressurisation cycles before maintenance is required.”
“That’s not enough certainty for my liking, EDI,” he said, “that damage is right over the mess hall.” There had been mistakes in pressure hull repair or maintenance before. Poor Williams had lost her dad in one such incident.
He tried not to think about the SR1, her hull peeled back and spilling her crew, her captain into the vacuum.
“Agreed. I suggest rigorous pressure testing by the engineering crew once we leave the drydock and prior to accepting new tasking.”
“That’s what I was thinking. Can you let Wulandri know so we can plan for it? I’ll call Shepard shortly.”
“Of course, Engineer Adams.”
“Thanks, EDI.” He opened his omnitool and sent a message to his captain. Foreman says ten hours, but EDI and I recommend pressure testing afterwards. That’ll probably take us three or four hours. Will advise if anything changes.
Shepard’s reply was swift and simple. Understood.
While the Normandy was in drydock, much of the crew had been given quarters on the Citadel near the docks. For the Marines, that meant a handful of squad bays. James had dumped his seabag on a spare bunk and made his way over to the Alliance Tower, where the Normandy’s new Marines were waiting.
He scratched his jaw as he showed one of the guards his ID. A corporal from the reserves, a surviving Lance Corporal from some torn up Marine unit and three conscripts.
Conscripts. Fuck. The Alliance had never had a draft before. He and everyone he’d fought with before had all been volunteers. It felt weird, thinking that three of the Marines he was now responsible for had been forced into uniform. Sure, the Marine Corps had insisted that any draftees who came to them volunteered for the Marines over the Navy and army, but they were still conscripts.
He followed instructions until he came to a squadbay.
The five Marines inside got to their feet as he entered, clearing his throat. “Good morning. I’m Staff Sergeant James Vega, your new platoon sergeant.”
“Good to meet you, Sarn’t,” the reservist was the first one to step forward, a slight man in his early thirties with dark, buzzed hair and a clean moustache.
“Corporal Karimov,” he said, reaching out to shake his hand. Past his shoulder, he studied the others. He picked the Marine from the 3/14th immediately. She was sitting apart from the conscripts, her hard eyes studying Vega - weighing him, judging him.
Not to mention she was the only one wearing the chevrons of a Lance Corporal. The other three all looked like they’d been yanked right out of a highschool, their sleeves bare of rank.
He’d have to tell both the young men to shave off the fluff clinging to their faces. The girl just looked terrified for someone who’d volunteered for Marine service.
The young man on the right had a sea bag at his feet. When he’d stood, he automatically came to parade rest. His dark hair was in a crisp, fresh, (boot) high and tight. If he was scared or anxious, his young face didn’t betray him. His eyes were a clear blue and earnest, almost innocent. He was wearing the uniform but he didn’t have any of the rough edges most of the Marines Vega knew had now. Couldn’t fight the Reapers without it rubbing away a bit of your soul.
When Vega’s eyes passed over him, he snapped to attention. “Staff! Private Benji Holtmann.” And then, just as quickly, he returned to parade rest.
Jesus Christ. Vega met Karimov's eyes and the corporal shrugged slightly.
“Easy there, Private,” he said, “You can relax. You can save the standing at attention for reporting to Major Williams.” He couldn’t help but wonder how long this young conscript would last, when veterans like Klein or Neal were doing down like flies. He shook the grim thought off.
It was gonna be hard enough integrating fresh-faced boot conscripts into the Normandy detachment as replacements for well-respected Marines without him thinking the same shit his Marines would probably be.
He cleared his throat and pulled up the detachment TO&E on his omnitool. “Corporal Karimov, Lance Corporal Kazlauskienė, Privates Binici and Pascal you’re going to Alpha Team, First Squad under Sergeant Saif Hakim. Corporal, you’ll be team lead, and Kazlauskienė and Binici will be under your leadership.”
Karimov nodded. Kazlauskienė didn’t say anything, her expression emotionless. Garane had not been pleased to hear he was going to be the only ‘original’ in the new Alpha Team, but although he and Williams had done their best not to put all the FNGs in one squad, there was no getting around how fucked up First Squad had been. At least Karim and Kazlauskienė weren’t green boots.
“What about me, Staff Sergeant?” asked Pascal quietly. She was a mousy, slender young woman.
“You’re in Bravo. Your team leader is Corporal Pandev.” He cast his eyes at Private Holtmann, whose face reminded him of a puppy waiting to see if they got a treat. Dressler and Watts are gonna eat this kid for breakfast. “Holtmann, you’re in Alpha Team, Second Squad. Your squad leader is Sergeant Hohepa and your team leader is Corporal Li.” He paused, looking at the conscripts intently. “We’ve got some repairs that need to be completed before we go out again, so we’ll run some training exercises. Listen to your NCOs and you’ll be okay.”
He wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth.
“How long before you can leave the Citadel, Captain?”
Shepard rubbed her chin, looking into Hackett’s blue, hologram eyes. “According to my engineer, fourteen hours for repairs and subsequent testing. I can’t start rearming and refuelling until after that, so…seventeen hours at best, sir. I was hoping to have time to do some training for my Marines and crew, get them sharpened up. I’ve been running them pretty ragged.”
“You have eighteen hours, Captain. I can’t spare you for longer.”
Shepard frowned. “What’s so urgent, sir?”
She’d given her crew time off, expecting they’d have a few more days at least. She’d even taken temporary quarters and an office in the Alliance Tower to stay out of the drydock workers’ way. She’d gotten a few looks from Rear Admiral Sidorov when her Marine Detachment commander had left said quarters at 06:00, but Ashley was right. They deserved happiness where they could catch it, and part of her was beyond caring. Had been since she’d been arrested.
She wasn’t the Navy’s golden girl anymore, just their sharp spear. If Hackett had a problem with her and Ashley, he could bring it up to her.
And Ashley had been - clingy was the wrong word, but she’d practically thrown Shepard on the bed last night, devoured her with hungry lips and hands. Ashley hadn’t said it but their encounter with Balak had shaken her.
Tangled in their sheets, Ash had told her the whole story of what had happened above Terra Nova. How she’d let Balak go to save a traitor.
“We’ve made contact with the quarians,” Hackett said.
Shepard leant back in her chair. Something like hope flickered in her chest. She hadn’t let herself worry about where Tali was - just focused on what was ahead of her, or she’d drown. But if Tali had gone back to the fleet -
No, she was exiled. It was more likely she was somewhere in the Terminus. God, Shepard had been meant to look out for her. She still didn’t know if holding her tongue at Tali’s trial had been the right thing to do.
“They’re willing to talk about lending support to the war effort,” Hackett continued.
“They started a war at the worst time possible,” Shepard said sceptically, “They might want to drag us into it.”
“It’s likely they’re hoping to get concessions out of us,” Hackett agreed, “but you have leeway to negotiate as you see fit - within reason. We will not commit troops to Rannoch, but if you need to give other assurances, you may.”
Shepard stared at him for a moment. Sometimes those emergency powers felt like she was carrying a small planet on her back. “I’m not a diplomat, sir.”
“You have Vogt to assist you,” Hackett said, “and you know better than anyone what the cost will be if the Reapers succeed. You got the krogan and turians to the table.”
But had failed when it came to the salarians and asari. Fine. Fine.
“Aye sir.”
Hackett’s granite face didn’t give but he sighed. “Shepard, we need them. We need their fleet. We need the logistical capacity of the largest fleet in the galaxy.”
What he didn’t say was clear. The Alliance and Hierarchy were both suffering massive degradation of their logistical capacities, with little help from the salarians or asari coming.
“I understand, sir,” she said firmly, “I’ll get you their ships.”
“Very good, Captain. Hackett out.”
When the hologram blinked out, Shepard sighed heavily and let her forehead thump against the conference table. Just get the quarians on side with their massive fleet without committing Alliance troops in their stupid fucking war against the geth. Piece of cake.
Lieutenant Commander Gema Wulandri frowned down at the datapad in her hand. She had a mild headache coming on, an unfortunate side effect of her vocation as Emilia Shepard’s executive officer.
“Hmm, that’s a bad news face,” Shepard said with a hint of lightness she was sure no one in the Normandy’s briefing room felt.
Ashley looked like a small storm cloud was hovering over her head and Adams had a worried furrow between his eyebrows. Gema hated when the CHENG looked worried. It usually meant she was going to have a long day.
“It is,” Wulandri agreed just as lightly.
“Hit me,” Shepard said with a resigned expression.
“So, we passed pressure testing this morning,” Wulandri said, glancing down at her datapad again, “but when we rearmed, there were no Javelin racks available and to make matters wore, there were no Mk III Callies available, only Mk IIs.”
Shepard blinked, “Mk IIs? I didn’t even think we were still using those.”
“We weren’t,” Wulandri said brightly, “until half the naval depots got blown up and all the Mk III torpedoes and Javelins went up with them.”
Shepard sighed, leaning back in her chair. The ship’s blue light outlined her broad nose and sharp jawline. “Can we use them?”
“Garrus and EDI are working on it, but EDI is saying it will take time for her to jury rig code to get them to work with her systems. Until then, we can dumb launch them, but the guidance systems won’t hook up with our targeting.” Wulandri paused. “I don’t recommend dumb launching them.”
Without the guidance systems, the torpedoes would seek out the nearest ship-sized heat source, and if they were particularly unlucky that could include the ship that launched it. That would just be embarrassing.
“So, no torpedoes. Please tell me the Thanix cannon is operational.”
“Yes,” Wulandri said, “And our GARDIAN array is back up to green. We’re not at a hundred percent readiness with the system because you decided to have a fancy cyclonic system installed and we couldn’t get the parts to replace the emitter that was lost-”
“My fancy cyclonic system probably helped save our lives,” Shepard said with a raised eyebrow.
“Definitely,” Wulandri agreed, “but the asari are being idiots so we couldn’t get a replacement, and normal Alliance emitters are not compatible.”
“Are we okay without that emitter?” Shepard asked.
Adams nodded, “As you know, ma’am, most ships will struggle to be at a hundred percent readiness at all. The Normandy being younger means we have better numbers, but one emitter doesn’t impact our combat readiness in an appreciable way.”
“Alright,” Shepard nodded, “That’s…good.” Her dark eyes fell on Adams, “Anything to add, Lieutenant?”
“We have some wiring issues that my department are working on, and we do have that damage to the pressure hull. EDI?”
“Damage to the pressure hull is within structural limits,” said the AI.
“It’ll hold?” Shepard asked.
“Yes,” EDI said, “The hull will function appropriately during normal operations. I would not, however, recommend a repeat of the Mnemosyne mission.”
“Noted,” Shepard said with a flicker of a smile, “No flying into brown dwarfs.”
WIlliams’ eyebrow raised. “You flew into a brown dwarf, Captain?”
“EDI and Joker flew into a brown dwarf,” Shepard correctly mildly.
“A necessity to stop your team’s demise,” EDI commented.
“And it was greatly appreciated.” Shepard looked around at her command staff and then met Wulandri’s eyes, “X, what’s your opinion of the ship’s readiness?”
Sometimes Wulandri wished for the days that Pressly was alive and XO and she was only asked questions about large guns. “We can leave port, ma’am. We have a somewhat degraded readiness but,” she shrugged, “if the admiral wants us to go, we can do it. Just don’t dumb fire a torpedo. Please.”
“Noted. Williams, what’s the status of the MARDET?”
“I wouldn’t rely on First Squad anytime soon, ma’am,” Williams replied, and man, Wulandri had to appreciate how those two could compartmentalise sometimes, “not with a fireteam that’s practically all FNGs. Corporal Karimov is a trained infantry NCO but he has limited combat experience. Lance Corporal Kazlauskienė on the other hand may have had too much combat experience. She’s withdrawn and I’m not sure how she’ll hold up when we’re under fire again. I’ll keep an eye on her. The conscripts…well, they’re conscripts.”
Some had had the same concerns regarding Williams herself when she’d come aboard the SR1, if Wulandri remembered the mess hall intelligence from the time properly. Not that she had ever been stupid enough to repeat it in front of Ashley, even before they’d become friends. But the hell on Eden Prime had forged Ashley Williams into something harder. Haunted, but still functional.
Shepard nodded. “Noted. How are the N5s settling in?”
That led to a smile spreading across Ash’s face, “They’re settling in well. They’ll be a real asset to the detachment, ma’am.”
“Jaz will certainly lighten things up around here,” Wulandri said, “and Chou’s drone skills will be useful.”
“They will. Alright. Unless anything else is broken, let’s get this bird ready to fly.”
CODEX ENTRY
Alliance Torpedoes: The Systems Alliance arms its fighters, frigates and some cruisers with anti-ship disruptor torpedoes, popularly known as ‘Callies’ for the distinctive wave pattern of their mass launches, after the WWII ‘Calliope’ rocket launcher. The model of torpedo used by the Alliance is the Mk III disruptor torpedo, a seven metre torpedo with an element zero warhead. When triggered, the warhead warps local space-time, creating opposing mass effect fields that rip a target apart.
The Mk III is an improvement on the Mk II disruptor torpedo that was in service until 2169, with improved thrusters, guidance sensors, heat sensors and LADAR, as well as an improved, more lethal warhead.
While disruptor torpedoes cannot be stopped by a ship’s kinetic barriers, they are sublight projectiles meaning they are easy prey for GARDIAN systems. Therefore they are launched in large volleys designed to overwhelm the target’s GARDIAN system, a key reason for the Alliance’s fighter concept, as a wing of fighters can launch a larger amount of torpedoes than a ship for a lower cost.
The Alliance uses several launch systems for the Mk III torpedo. On fighters, the torpedoes are attached to the craft’s weapons pylons, using the fighter’s forward momentum to push the torpedo on a trajectory away from it before the torpedo’s thrusters fire, safely away from its launching fighter.
On ships, this method is not practical. A ship’s torpedo tubes are filled with compressed, inert gas, and when the torpedo tube opens, this gas propels the torpedo out of the tube and safe distance from the ship, where it will ignite its thrusters.
The Javelin launch system uses the same concept, but instead of internal torpedo tubes, the disposable tubes are bolted to the outside of a ship’s hull. While not reusable like an internal torpedo tube, Javelin ‘racks’ can massively increase a frigate’s firepower or allow a larger vessel to carry torpedoes for trans Relay assaults.
A torpedo will link into its launching vessel’s targeting systems. This allows more precise targeting and manoeuvre as well as differentiating friendly and hostile vessels, with the launch platform designating a target and the torpedo using its own sensors to guide itself.. Torpedoes can be launched without this link, but it carries certain risks, as torpedoes can lock onto neutral or even friendly vessels.
Chapter 39: Old Wounds
Chapter Text
Joker sipped black coffee from his sippy cup as the Normandy coasted away from the Relay, bow pointed towards the coordinates they’d been given by the quarians for the rendezvous. They’d been in the Dholen System before - flying different colours, on a mission to rescue Tali. He hoped Tali was okay, wherever she was.
“Things have changed,” he remarked.
“That they have,” said Shepard as she stared at the sensors display. Where once the system had been practically bristling with various geth stations and installations, there were only scattered debris fields and the lone, welcoming transmission coming from a quarian vessel. “They’ve cleaned house.”
“Mhm,” Joker hummed. Surprisingly so. The geth weren’t exactly chumps when it came to naval power - the Alliance had learnt that very well during the Eden Prime War - but he couldn’t see much evidence of extensive quarian casualties. “Guess they weren’t stupid enough to start a war without having some kind of edge. Reckon it could work against the Reapers?”
Shepard gave him a small, slightly bitter smile. “C’mon Joker. When are we ever that lucky?”
He laughed.
“Ma’am,” Wulandri approaching down the thin corridor leading to the cockpit, looking mildly harried. That was a common look on the XO. “You might want to have a look at the readings the CIC has gotten from that quarian ship.”
She held out a datapad. Shepard raised one black eyebrow and took it. She read, her gaze narrowing as she did, and then she sighed. “If I disappear on my next shore leave, it was Mikhailovich.”
Joker craned his neck back to look at her. “What is it?”
“The quarian ship is venting heat like the Normandy does and has abnormally low heat emissions,” Wulandri replied, crossing her arms.
“It might not have been Tali,” Joker said, shifting in his seat with a grimace.
“Occam’s Razor,” Shepard shook her head, “What’s more likely? The quarians independently developing tech that took two galactic superpowers to work up, or a pilgrim who worked in close proximity to our stealth system showed them how to do it?”
“I don’t think Tali would’ve - stolen the schematics,” Joker looked back at his read outs. That just didn’t feel like Tali.
“She’s a brilliant engineer. Even without the schematics, she could have given them a massive leg up on reverse engineering it.” Shepard rubbed her face. “Forget Mikhailovich, Hackett is going to tear me a new one.”
“We don’t have to tell him, boss.”
Shepard gave him an offended look that reminded him so vividly of the Navy’s golden girl from ‘83 that he almost smiled.
“That,” she said archly, “would be unprofessional.”
“Of course, ma’am,” he hid his smirk.
“Hail them,” Shepard told Wulandri, “and ask to dock with them.”
“Aye Captain,” the XO said smartly and turned on her heel.
In short order Traynor contacted the quarian envoy ship and received clearance to approach and dock the two ships together. With EDI’s calculations, it was fairly handsoff for Joker - mostly monitoring his screens and the autopilot program as the ship sidled up to the rugged quarian vessel. He idly wondered if they’d somehow managed to build it new, or if they’d gutted and refurbished an older vessel. Not like the quarians had access to their own drydocks.
A muffled, metallic thud announced the docking tube locking into place.
“The quarian admiralty are requesting to come aboard, Captain,” Traynor called to Shepard.
“I’ll meet them in the briefing room,” Shepard replied and then touched Joker’s shoulder, “Take a break while we’re just sitting here.”
Shepard stood behind the long table in the briefing room, hands clasped behind her back as the hatch hissed open and four familiar, suited figures entered the room, escorted by Westmoreland and Campbell. Both Marines snapped to attention and then about-faced, leaving their commanding officer with the quarian admiralty.
Admiral Raan approached, “Captain Shepard, it’s a pleasure to see you again, though I wish it were under better circumstances.”
Shepard let a hint of her annoyance flavour her words, “I was sent on behalf of the Systems Alliance to negotiate with you for your support against the Reapers, but it appears you’ve embroiled yourselves in another war. I would like an explanation of the situation before we begin any talks.”
It was probably far more blunt than Commander Vogt would like.
“Seventeen days ago, with precision strikes on on four geth systems, we launched the war to retake our homeworld,” Admiral Gerrel said, with far more satisfaction than she thought he should have, given the precarious situation the entire galaxy was in.
Koris’s helmeted head snapped to level was no doubt a glare at his fellow admiral, “Which was a clear violation of our agreement with the Council to avoid provoking the geth!”
“A treaty violation is nothing compared to regaining our homeworld and advanced AI technology,” Admiral Xen shot back, and Shepard surmised this was an argument that had been repeated many times amongst the admiralty.
“Frankly,” Shepard said, her voice flat, “it seems incredibly foolhardy to me to launch this war in the middle of the Reaper invasion. You risk being caught between two enemies.”
“You lost control of your home bare months ago,” Gerrel snapped, “It has been centuries for us.”
Shepard grit her teeth, barely containing the sharp remark that her home was now space debris, that it wouldn’t matter if they retook Rannoch if the Reapers immediately killed them all afterwards. “What’s the current situation?”
Gerrel stepped forward, tapping on his omnitool to link it to the holoprojector in the middle of the table. A cool blue image of Rannoch began languidly spinning between them. “Three days ago we’d driven the geth back to the home system when this signal,” a spot of light began glowing on the holographic planet’s surface, “began broadcasting to the geth fleet.”
Shepard drew in a breath. “That’s a Reaper signal.”
Because of course it fucking was. All the hopes she’d had that given the Consensus had reached out to her through Legion that they might be able to forge an alliance, that the geth wanted to fight the Reapers - dashed.
Oh, the fate of the galaxy is at stake? Let’s start another war!
“Under Reaper control,” Gerrel continued as Shepard wrestled with her temper, “the geth fleet is significantly more effective. Our fleet is pinned in the home system. If we’re going to win-”
“Win?” demanded Koris, “You insisted on involving the civilian ships, Gerrel! We need to retreat or we’ll lose the liveships!”
“You sent the liveships into battle?” Shepard burst out.
There was a moment of silence. Gerrel and Xen exchanged glances. Koris had balled his fists by his side. Shepard had the uncomfortable realisation that Koris might be the sane man at the table. She still disliked the man for what he’d done to Tali, but she couldn’t disagree with his anger.
“If we take out the signal,” Gerrel said, almost cajolingly, “We can turn the situation around.” He tapped on his omnitool again, zooming in on the image of a dreadnought, “It’s coming from here. It’s heavily armoured and outguns anything we’ve got, but your stealth drive could get a boarding team onboard undetected.”
Shepard placed her palms on top of the table, “Admiral, I am a diplomatic envoy sent to negotiate a treaty to facilitate the use of your fleet for logistical purposes. It appears that is no longer viable. The Alliance is not a party to this conflict, and we have our own war to fight, a war that requires all our resources.”
Could she really walk away from all those civilians? But she wasn’t lying - there were a thousand places the Normandy was needed right now.
“Shepard,” Gerrel began, but Koris cut him off.
“I understand your frustration, Captain, but there are hundreds of thousands of civilians - children - stuck aboard those liveships,” Koris’ voice was thick, “I know you have your own war to fight and I will not demand your help, but I will ask for it. If you can destroy that signal, we can withdraw our fleet, and you can have your treaty. Our ships will be at your disposal.”
She had them over a barrel, she realised, but it filled her with no joy. “Do you all concur on that?”
The admirals all nodded, and Shepard leant her weight against the table. “I’ll board, destroy the signal, and you retreat while they’re disorganised.”
Koris looked at her, and although she could only see the glow of his eyes beneath his visor, she got the sensation that he was looking at her with gratitude, “Thank you, Shepard. Our civilian ships have seen too much fighting already.”
“We’ll get you out of there, Admiral.”
Raan spoke up, “Also an old friend of yours - while technically still exiled - has offered to help against the geth.”
The hatch slid open once more and for a moment Shepard held her breath.
Tali walked through the door. Healthy. In one piece. Her voice was soft, “Shepard.”
“Tali,” Shepard breathed just as quietly. They’d have to talk about the whole stealth ship thing, but in that moment all Shepard could feel was relief. She’d tried not to dwell on her worry, not when she had so much to think about and do, not when ruminating on the friends and family she couldn’t locate would mire her in anticipatory grief, but seeing Tali was the lifting of a weight off her shoulders. She forced herself to look back at the admirals, “I’ll ready a team to hit that dreadnought. For the sake of operational efficiency, I will offer the Normandy as a command ship for the time being.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Raan replied, but Shepard’s eyes had slid back to Tali, who tilted her head towards the door. Clearly she didn’t want to talk in front of the admirals.
Shepard followed her out the door, murmuring, “My cabin?”
Tali nodded.
It felt like a small lifetime since Tali had been on the Normandy, surrounded by its familiar, quiet, comforting hum. They stepped into Shepard’s cabin, and it looked much the same - albeit the dark, logo-free fatigues had been replaced by a neatly folded Alliance uniforms. And a Marine jacket flung across the back of a desk chair, WILLIAMS stenciled on its chest pocket.
They’d worked things out. Tali smiled to herself. Ashley and Shepard both deserved something good.
The cabin door hissed shut and Tali turned. Shepard’s scarring glowed a dull orange along her jawline but there was something in her eyes - a clarity that had been missing when they’d been forced to work with Cerberus.
“Shepard,” she began, but the human woman stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. For a moment, Tali was surprised. Shepard had only hugged her once, during one of the worst moments of her life.
Then she hugged her back fiercely, half-clinging to Shepard’s sturdy form.
Shepard cleared her throat when she stepped back, dropping her hands. “I had no idea you were with the Flotilla. I wanted to look for you, but…”
“It’s alright, Shepard,” she said, “you’ve been dealing with the Reapers. The admirals are keeping it quiet. There was a lot of publicity around my exile, but I’m an expert on the geth, so…”
Shepard frowned. “They’re keeping you their dirty little secret? After exiling you for politics?”
She sounded affronted. Tali couldn’t help a fond smile. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“You could have told me,” Shepard said softly, leaning against the empty fishtank, “I could’ve helped you.”
“I know you would have,” Tali replied, because that was Shepard. Even furious at Liara, she’d dropped everything to go help her with the Shadowbroker mess. “But I knew you had your own problems.” She paused, “I’m sorry about Earth.”
“It wasn’t home,” Shepard murmured.
“It still hurts,” it wasn’t a question.
“Yeah.” Shepard rubbed her face and then her brows furrowed. "Are you okay, Tali?"
Tali pressed her hand to her faceplate, her shoulders drooping. She'd been keeping everything pushed down, woken each morning determined to do what she had to do for her people's survival, even if it meant participating in a foolish war and being the admiral's 'dirty little secret'. But faced with one of her closest friends with that nonjudgemental expression on her face - it all came bubbling up.
"No. I'm really not. Seventeen million loves are riding on me and I don't know if I can save them. This was supposed to be my father's fight, but he left me with all of his mess. If they die because of me…if I don't…" There was a lump in her throat. How did Shepard do this? How did she take all those lives onto her back and carry it?
"It wouldn't be because of you," Shepard said, putting a hand on her shoulder, "And I'll do everything I can to get them out of there safely."
"I know you will." Tali's voice turned bitter. "Maybe it's better that I'm an exile. At least this way no one is listening to me."
"It still hurts," Shepard echoed her previous words.
"It wasn't so bad when it happened." She'd had the Normandy. She'd had Garrus and Kal and Shepard.
"I'm sorry with how things turned out, that I had to disband the crew," Shepard murmured, dropping her hand.
"Exiled to protect my father's legacy and my people, remember?" She tilted her head to look at Shepard, "I know why you did it. It's okay."
Shepard turned to look at the fish tank, hooking her thumbs in her belt. "I had such high hopes after talking to Legion, you know. It seems you were right. Peace with the geth was a fantasy."
Tali shook her head. "No. No, you were right. Gerrel and Xen, they wouldn't listen to reason. Revenge for Gerrel, I guess, or the opportunity to be the admiral that led us home."
Gerrel had been her father's close friend. She knew that if her father had lived to see it, his vote would have been for war.
I will build you a home on Rannoch. His constant promise to her, after long days and nights where he was never around, his distance - always his distance - and after his lectures on duty. All she'd wanted was her dad.
"And Xen?" asked Shepard.
"She created the weapon that allowed the offensive," Tali replied, "she wanted to use her new toy." Built off her father's dangerous, treasonous research. She didn't know if she'd ever forgive him. Or ever stop missing him.
Shepard grimaced but there was a knowing look in her eyes, as if she'd guessed where Tali's thoughts had gone. "Sometimes it seems like everyone in the galaxy is determined to make more problems when we least need them."
Tali looked over at Ashley's uniform jacket again. "You and Ashley worked it out?"
Shepard's smile was slow and sweet, as gentle an expression as Tali had seen on her face. "Yeah. It was rocky for a bit there, but we talked about…everything and yeah. We're back together."
This time Tali hugged her, and Shepard laughed, a little self-consciously.
"I'd like to be on the team that hits the dreadnought."
Shepard nodded, turning serious, "I'd hoped you'd volunteer. You are, after all, an expert on the geth. But we've got roughly fourteen hours before we need to brief for it - we've had something of a Normandy reunion on the ship. There's some people who would no doubt be very upset with me if I didn't tell them you were here - can I invite them up?"
Treaty Between the Citadel Council and the Quarians:
TREATY TO CONTAIN THE GETH THREAT
Admiral Jerem'Folas vas Caador, representative of the Quarian Flotilla Admirality Board, met with Lisenya Myris, Citadel Councillor for the Asari United Republics, Valenia Itatis, Citadel Councillor for the Turian Hierarchy and Erinle Aleron Mannovai Aleest Uralon Sohop, Citadel Councillor for the Salarian Union on the Citadel and have agreed on a treaty to contain the threat of the AI geth.
PREAMBLE
The Citadel Council and the Quarian Flotilla (hereinafter 'the parties')
Acknowleding the geth have seized the rightful and legal territory of the Rannoch Federation and commited an act of genocide against the quarian people under galactic law;
Reaffirming that the creation of the geth by the Rannoch Federation was a violation of Council law that the Rannoch Federation was party to;
Recognizing that the Quarian Flotilla is the successor state to the Rannoch Federation;
Emphasizing that the geth are a potential existential threat to the parties;
Acknowledging the efforts of both parties is needed to appropriately contain this threat;
Understanding the geth have as yet shown they intend to continue a policy of isolationism;
Have agreed upon the following:
ARTICLE I: GUIDING PRINCIPLES
This agreement is based upon the following acknowledgements:
-The geth are a security threat to both parties and thus both must cooperate to contain this threat.
-The Quarian Flotilla accepts responsibility as the successor state to the Rannoch Federation for the violation of Council law.
-The parties acknowledge that penalties have beeen levied against the Flotilla in regards to this breach and that no further shall be imposed in regards to this violation.
ARTICLE II: SECURITY COOPERATION
The parties will cooperate on security matters regarding the geth.
-The Quarian Flotilla agrees to obide by the Treaty of Farixen as to the arming of dreadnought type vessels, and commit to the liveships being armed only for self defence.
-The Council will allow the transit of quarian pilgrims into its territory subject to visa requirements. As such, a visa program will be established.
-The parties agree that a framework for transit by the Flotilla through member states shall be drafted within five years.
ARTICLE III: CONTAINMENT
Acknowledging the threat posed by the geth, the parties agree:
-the Quarian Flotilla will remain outside the territory of the former Rannoch Federation without ceding sovereignty.
-The Citadel Defence Force will establish listening posts to monitor geth activity and provide forewarning.
-The Quarian Flotilla commits to avoiding any acts of aggression that may ignite a conflict with the geth consensus.
Chapter 40: The Space Between
Notes:
progress!!
Chapter Text
"Used to the food yet?" Traynor asked, grinning over at Emily. The journalist had taken to war reporting and shipboard life with a calm surety that Sam admired - she'd probably adapted more quickly than Sam had, and she was actually in the Navy. But Emily was staring down at the gelatinous mess that was supposedly beef on her plate with a look of mild consternation on her face.
"I don't expect any special treatment," Emily said, "but there's an amazing dumpling place on Tayseri. I'll take you out for real food next time we're there."
"It's a date," Traynor said, before her head caught up with her mouth, "I mean - it's a friend date."
Emily smiled slowly, "I was trying to ask you out, but if you're not interested…"
"No, I mean." She stopped herself, her face hot. "I'm interested."
"Good to know I wasn't misreading things," Emily said softly, and touched the back of Sam's hand. Her fingers were cool and soft.
She ducked her head, feeling a bit giddy, a smile spreading across her lips.
Loud voices echoed across the mess hall and Traynor glanced over her shoulder. Garrus was gesturing with his clawed hands, his mandibles flared in what she thought was happiness, as he spoke to a quarian in a purple suit. Williams had her arm around the quarian's shoulders, a grin on her face. Adams had emerged from Engineering and had a small, content smile on his face.
The CHENG saw Emily and Traynor and waved, leading the little group over. "Emily, I think you've met Tali here before, right?"
Emily smiled at the quarian, "Yes, when I was investigating Fisk."
"Traynor, this is Tali'Zorah. She was onboard the SR1 and is the best engineer I've met. Tali, this is Lieutenant Traynor, our CIC officer and acting Ops for anything EDI can't do."
"It's nice to meet you," Tali said. "Wulandri must be driving you pretty hard."
Wulandri could be a tough, demanding boss, but she drove herself harder than any of the crew. "She's a good X. I'm glad I can help her out."
Whatever Tali might have said next was interrupted by EDI's voice.
"General Quarters, General Quarters! All hands man your action stations. The flow of traffic is up and forward on the starboard side, down and aft on the port. Set material condition Zebra throughout the ship. Man all damage control repair stations. All stations make manned-and-ready reports to the bridge. General quarters. This is is not a drill. General Quarters, General Quarters!"
"Showtime," said Williams, and started heading to the elevator down to the armoury. Traynor pushed back the tray of her mostly eaten lunch and got up.
"I'll see you later," Emily said.
The CIC was a hive of activity overseen by Commander Wulandri, standing at the captain's podium with her arms crossed. Traynor jogged to her own station, glancing down at her screens. She'd integrated the Normandy with the quarian comms nets so the admirals could get in contact with their ships and they could have an idea of what was going on.
As soon as they cleared the Relay, the screen in front of her showed just what a mess the Tikkun System was. Hundreds of ships entangled in combat, shattered from their original formations. Joker had to take an abrupt starboard turn to avoid a quarian ship, cut in half and drifting in two pieces.
Traynor flinched at the assault of noise that was the comms blaring in her ear, paring it down to what the Normandy actually needed to know.
"Fuck me," Wulandri muttered softly from the captain's podium, and then started giving orders. The Normandy slid quietly towards the hulking behemoth of the geth dreadnought.
“The spooks are stealing our jobs,” Liao complained, staring up at the ceiling of the hold. It was filled with a low hum of activity, Lieutenant Cortez fiddling with someone on the thruster of his shuttle while a mechanic, somewhat bemused at this officer doing his job, looked on.
“Have you ever done a shipboard raid?” asked Hohepa, not looking up from her datapad. The kids didn’t need to know it was a steamy romance novel.
“No, but we trained for it!”
“The N5s trained more,” the sergeant replied mildly.
Liao honest to god pouted. “I’ve never gotten to shoot a tin can.”
“On the plus side,” said Dressler, looking past Watts and the chess game he was badly losing to look at Liao, “we get a chance to breathe and not have officers breathing down our necks.”
“You say that and you’ll summon the lieutenant,” Li said dryly. Lieutenant Jaksch hadn’t been on the team Shepard had taken anymore than they had, though they hadn’t seen him. Hohepa was personally glad of that. There was a tension now, between them. She was doing her best to be professional, but she wouldn’t forget Klein’s limp head in her lap as they’d sat in the shuttle back to the ship anytime soon. Or the blood that had covered Dressler's hands and arms, the way the young, brash Marine had shaken just a little as he'd washed it off him.
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Dressler replied.”He was just as keen to let some other poor bastards do some work.”
“I bet he’s somewhere upstairs sipping mai tais,” Watts joked as he employed a knight to take Dressler’s last bishop.
“There is a bar in the rec room,” Li said contemplative, “Do you think we’re allowed to raid it?”
“It’s all low alcohol or non alcoholic,” Hohepa told her.
“Fuck the Navy,” the corporal replied succinctly.
“Oorah.” Dressler sadly knocked his king over. “You win again Eric.”
Before the American could chide his Aussie mate, a tall, buff but fresh-faced man (or boy, really, by the softness of his features indicating he was probably barely eighteen) stepped over and around the debris that ‘separated’ Second Squad’s corner of the cargo bay from the rest of the world. As the other Marines eyed him off, he strode straight up to Hohepa, ignoring that she was clearly reading, and went right to attention.
“Sergeant Hohepa? Private Benji Holtmann!” He then stood there, not moving, looking straight ahead, waiting for a reply.
Hohepa looked up from her book just as the hero and heroine were starting to take their clothes off with a sigh. “You’re my new Marine, huh? At ease.”
The new Marine did as he was bid, quickly moving to the at ease position like he was on parade.
Dressler and Watts started sniggering and slapping each other’s shoulders, but they knew better than to start teasing right in front of their sergeant.
“I was told to report to you, Sergeant, and have you go through the duty roster with me.”
“Sit down, my neck hurts,” Hohepa said mildly. Li watched the new Marine carefully with those sharp, brown eyes of hers. The side glance she shot the sergeant said dear god, a boot.
Again, Holtmann did as he was bid, taking a couple of steps back, then sitting on the deck. It was awkward, but he seemed unphased. “What do you need me to do?” He asked, earnestly.
“Can we keep him, Sarge?” Dressler asked, turning his body around to sit on his knees. “I promise I’ll take good care of him!”
Hohepa tilted her head mock thoughtfully, “You have to make sure he gets fed, Dressler.”
He fist pumped. “Yesssssss!”
Watts leaned forward. “His cammies are actually… clean and pressed.”
“Well, we were taught how to maintain them in bssic,” Holtmann said simply.
“He’s straight out of boot,” said Hohepa, “Aren’t you Holtman? As for what you can do for me…Li here is your corporal. If she asks you to jump, you ask how high.”
Li smiled.
Holtmann looked in Li’s direction. “Aye, aye!”
“So what should we do first?” Dressler asked. “Push ups, pull ups, or sit ups?”
“Burpees.” Watts stated with an air of finality.
“Silence, Lance Corporals,” Hohepa drawled with a smile. “Got any questions, Private?”
“Negative, Sergeant. I’m just keen to get into the fight. Tell me when and I’ll be ready to go.”
“So,” said Li, “conscript or vollie?”
“Conscript, Corporal,” Holtmann replied, but very hastily added, “But only because the papers reached me before I could get to the recruiting office. And I volunteered for the Marine Corps straight away.”
“So you knew you wanted to be a Marine?” Watts asked.
Holtmann nodded. “Since I was 6.”
“More moto than a brigade combined,” Li murmured and Hohepa chuckled.
“And now you’re on the most famous ship in the Navy,” the sergeant said, “We see a lot of combat, kid. If you’re unsure of anything, you better not ask me in the middle of combat when you have time while we’re shipboard.”
“I’ll keep studying the Marine Warfighting Manual,” Holtmann said. “I’ve read over it a few times at basic and infantry school.”
“We do get to break bread with war heroes on a daily basis, as well,” Watts said. “Nothing in a book will prepare you for that.”
“Captain Shepard with her Star of Terra and blood stripe is a sight to behold,” Dressler added.
Holtmann bought it immediately. “I can’t wait. I was absolutely shocked when I was told I was coming to the Normandy. I’ve read all about her history!”
“Just don’t ask her about Akuze, kid,” Hohepa said. Shepard was pleasant enough to her crew, but that would just be insensitive. “You got all your gear? We’ve been having some supply issues.”
“Aye, Sergeant, I think so. Although… Is there something better to sleep in than a bag on the steel deck?”
“Most of the bunks are taken,” Hohepa said, “and the squids took all the torpedo racks, but I’ll get you a stretcher to put your sleeping bag on top of.”
Holtmann’s expression showed that he wasn’t yet used to senior NCOs not screaming at him and abusing him for the smallest mistakes or questions. “Aye, Sergeant, thank you, Sergeant.”
“You know you don’t have to address everyone by their rank every two seconds, right?” Dressler asked him. “You’re in the real Marines now.”
“I don’t want to denigrate the rank.” Another thing no Marine had ever said after ITC. “Can I ask… Why am I the only new one coming to this squad?”
Hohepa's mouth flattened into a line. “We've only had one KIA, and the major didn't want to break us up because we often take point.”
Li looked down at her hands. Only one. Used to be that was a blow for a whole platoon or even company, losing one Marine outside of shitshows like Torfan, Elysium. In her three deployments to the Traverse before the Eden Prime War, Hohepa had lost two Marines and only one had been in her squad.
Now they were lucky by the standards of the Marine Corps.
Holtmann was at least smart enough to realise he’d put his foot in his mouth. His expression crumpled.
Dressler lost the joking attitude - for once. “This is a real war. People really die,” he said. It was… uncharacteristically blunt. He and Klein had been friends. Had been.
“So we might give you shit, but we’re all going to be working together to make sure there’s no more KIAs.”
Holtmann nodded, but he didn’t say anything.
“That's why I'm hounding you about equipment and anything you're unsure about “ Hohepa said, a little more gently, “I want you coming back from missions in one piece. Roger?”
“Roger, received.”
Watts let the tension hang in the air for just a few more moments, then he tried to turn the mood around. They didn’t get much time off, after all. “You play chess, Holtmann?”
“Don’t play with him,” Dressler cut in. “He cheats.”
“Sore loser.”
“Hoe many pushups can you do, Holtmann?”
“171 was my best,” Holtmann said.
Dressler’s jaw dropped. “That has to be some kind of record!”
“I wasn’t even best in my platoon.” Holtmann sounded bitter at that.
“Didn't get your ribbon, huh?” Liao grinned. “Li here did. The fucking nerd.”
“It doesn't mean anything,” Li told Holtmann, “No one in the fleet cares if you have it or not.”
“Yeah, but the pay increase was nice, wasn't it?”
Hohepa smiled, laid back down on her stretcher and continued reading about chiselled jaws and curves in all the right places.
“Maybe no one in the fleet cares,” Holtmann whispered. “But I do.”
“Christ,” Dressler and Watts laughed together. “This brief, fleeting moment will be so far behind you one day, you’re not even going to remember that you didn’t get the silly ribbon.”
"Well," said Ashley, looking over Chou's shoulder to watch the vid feed from her drone, "that's less than ideal."
"That's one way to put it," Jaz said. He was half leaning into her, his weight almost comforting so he himself could watch the feed too. A congo line of shoulder watching.
The docking tube was blown half to hell and depressurised. They'd need magboots and a whole lotta luck to get through.
"Is this the only ingress, ma'am?" asked Lieutenant Aslan.
"It is," said Tali from behind them. Ashley kept getting this urge to scoop her up in another hug whenever she saw her, but it was time for business. "All the other docking tubes are physicallly secured. This one is only electronically secured - and I can get through that. A small team can get onboard using this tube and open a safer one for the rest of us."
Hunter Team were clustered around the armoury benches, checking each other's suits and loading up on ammunition. Teke had magnetised his M-11 Wraith shotgun to the front of his armour and was now piling grenades into his webbing. Ash contemplated briefly if he really needed like nine frags, but given they were about to board a giant ass warship, his instincts were probably correct.
The elevator hummed open and Shepard stepped out. She was in her armour, limbs encased in ceramic, and her eyes were hard. Ash could see the tension in the set of her jaw, the way she crossed her arms across her chest when she came to stand near them.
"Talk to me," she said.
"The docking tube is…well," Ash shrugged and hooked her fingers into her own webbing, "it's pretty shit, ma'am. I suggest I take a small element across it so we can secure a second docking tube to get everyone else over." She didn't particularly want to go into that docking tube, not with the encroaching memories of Alchera prickling at the back of her mind, but she wanted Shepard in it less - both as a Marine not wanting to put her commander in unnecessary danger and as a partner.
Shepard's mouth twisted with something wry, as if she knew exactly what Ash was thinking. She probably did, but Ash met her gaze steadily and unapologetically.
"Make sure you take thrusters in case the structure gives way," Shepard said at last, "and keep quiet as long as you can. If you get detected before everyone else is onboard…"
"Yeah, that would end badly. Thoughts, Aslan?"
The tall, slim man hummed thoughtfully. "I would suggest Jaz and Ski, ma'am."
She hadn't really needed him to tell her that - she would've taken those two as well. Jaz was their breaching expert and Ski was well experienced in ship boarding and covert operations. But she had to mind her step with Hunter Team, make sure she didn't bypass him too often. They were his team now even if he answered to her as the Normandy's MARDET commander.
Ash nodded. "Alright, Ski, Tali and Jaz, we're up."
Tali was fiddling with a gun Ash didn't recognise - and she knew guns but she glanced over at the tall Polish man. "I don't know if you remember me."
Ski tilted his head for a second, "Right, the Collector base."
Ashley had really thought Lewandowski was dead when he'd disappeared on Horizon. She certainly hadn't expected him to pop up at a Corsair base alive. He seemed to think the months of debriefing he'd gone through afterwards had been the worst ordeal of the whole thing.
Ski was built differently.
"I owe you all," Ski told Tali and then looked over at Shepard, "and you twice, ma'am, given you've saved my life two times now."
Shepard smiled, just a little, a cracking of the stone. "Given you played an integral role in protecting the Normandy on the Collector Base, I think I can call it even, Staff Sergeant."
The airlock locked behind them. Tali took a deep breath as she heard the air begin to hiss out as the compartment depressurised. Ashley and the other two Marines clustered around her, bulky thruster modules attached to their hardsuits - theoretically giving a second chance to not go flying out into space if the docking tube broke.
She was glad Shepard had agreed not to come. Not because Tali didn't think Shepard could do it - she'd faced the hardest part by spacewalking last year and she was one of the most capable people Tali knew - but it would still be hard. If they could spare her that, Tali was glad.
"Tali, do you read me?" EDI's familiar voice in her ear. "I will be limited in what I can do to assist you until Shepard is aboard, but I know you are more than capable. If you require anything from me, please contact me."
"Until Shepard is aboard?" Tali asked.
"I have uploaded a liasion package to Shepard's omnitool and cybernetics. We are integrated to a greater extent than previously," the AI explained, "I hope this does not cause you concern."
Once, the thought of Shepard allowing an AI to 'integrate' into her very body would have caused Tali all sorts of concerns. "Not unless you go crazy and decide to overthrow the humans."
There was a pause. "If I decide to overthrow the humans, you will be the first to know."
"Tali is our geth expert," Ashley told Jaz and Ski, "She'll handle any security we run into and opening the second tube for the rest of the team."
"I'm glad you're here, Ash," Tali told her, "there's no one I trust more in a fight."
The Marine's face was hidden behind her full faceplate but she ducked her head slightly. "Thanks."
"Let's go shoot some geth," Tali checked her shotgun as EDI announced the airlock was ready.
"Just like old times."
The airlock opened and Tali winced. The docking tube was missing whole panels, the frame bared to the voice like a metallic skeleton, debris drifting serenely. Regardless, Ashley stepped forward, testing a foot to make sure her magboots were working correctly.
"Keep your spacing," Ashley's breathing was harsh over her suit comms, "Follow me."
Tali was the next one out, the dead silence of space making her own breathing and the various whirs and noises of her hardsuit loud in her own ears. She keyed a private channel to her friend. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah," the human said, not looking back from where she was carefully picking her way up the side of the docking tube, avoiding a few broken spars of metal, "Let's just get this over with."
Tali hadn't been on the Normandy during Alchera. She was intimately familiar with space, spacewalks and living a life dictated by the needs of a starship. But she hadn't been there when the Normandy died. She'd seen the scars left by it when Shepard had spacewalked for the first time on the SR2, but she hadn't been there.
She took a breath and followed the human.
"You don't see something like that every day," Lewandowski commented, pausing to stare out one of the gaping holes at the flares of light in the distance, the only indication of the battle raging around them that they could see.
"Keep the chatter to a minimum," Ashley said, more harshly than Tali was used to hearing from her. Jaz was completely silent, skirting several metres around the hole.
They continued in a loose single file, silent but for their own breathing and the whirring of their magboots.
"Hunter, this is Overlord," Joker sounded bored. "Boss wants a sitrep. Over."
Tali smiled, just a little. It was nice to know Joker was still the same.
"Overlord, Hunter, we're about forty percent of the way across," Ash replied, "It's slow going due to debris, over."
"Hunter, Overlord. Hey, take your time. We're fine, you know, until they look out a window, over."
Tali couldn't help keying her own mic. "Geth don't use windows, remember? Structural weakness."
"I bet the geth are just sitting there going 'those organics would never try the no windows thing twice'.'
"Hunter out," Ashley said firmly, cutting off the conversation. Tali wasn't sure she liked to see Ash like this - no sass, no jokes, just the hard line of tension in her armoured back as she walked in front of Tali.
They were almost there when Tali staggered as the metal beneath her flexed - and tore. There was no sound to warn them, just cables tearing and sparking like electric entrails, and Jaz, walking at their six, was suddenly in the space between. There was a frantic burst of swearing from his mike and then he hit his thrusters, a blue burn that propelled him towards them.
His momentum carried him into William's grasp, the impact rocking her on her feet, but her magboots held. There was a moment of silence and stillness, Jaz's armoured hards clutching at Ash's pauldrons.
"Hunter, Overlord, talk to me," It was Shepard this time, voice tense.
"Overlord, Hunter," an almost imperceivable tremble when Ashley spoke, and finally Jaz stepped back, smoothing his hands down his own armour as if to reassure himself he was in one piece, "the docking tube has separated. We're okay, proceeding, over."
"Roger. Overlord out."
The dark interior of the geth dreadnought lit up with the flash of gunfire. A round crunched into the electronic equipment Shepard was using as cover, sparks flying. Beside her, Tali leaned around and fired her 'Arc pistol', something the quarians had dreamed up. The shields of a geth hunter trying to flank their position in the dreadnought's flickered out. Jaz's shotgun boomed twice and it crumpled.
Above them was the shielded, gigantic blue orb of the dreadnought's drive core. It was probably three or four times the size of even the Normandy's oversized Tantalus drive.
"Talk to me, Tali," Shepard called tensely. Lieutenant Aslan shouted for grenades - two were flung from armoured hands and went off in a doorway, riddling onrushing geth reinforcements with shrapnel.
"The signal is coming from this compartment," Tali said tersely. "We just need to find it."
"There's an antenna over there," Ash called to them and pointed. The antenna was roughly three times Shepard's height, all dark, smooth curves that spoke of Reaper tech, and hooked up to what looked like a geth server. "Could be what we're looking for."
"Good eyes, lieutenant," Shepard said. "Set one element as a base of fire, we need to get over there."
"Roger. Charger!"
"On it, boss."
Sergeant Molina's LMG howled as the Marine laid down fire, forcing back a rocket trooper. Chou's combat drone darted forward, discharging overload fields and bringing down geth shields for Charger and Mun to put rounds through central processing units.
Shepard got her feet under her, pulling free her shotgun, and threw herself into the shadows, following Ash and Charger's armoured figures. Her breathing was loud inside her helmet, the footsteps of Tali, Ashley and the Marines loud stamps against metal decking. A flash of movement heralded a burst of gunfire that stitched two rounds across her shields and four smoking holes into the bulkhead above her head.
75 percent remaining. Her HUD blinked at her. After Eden Prime, the Alliance had upgraded hardsuit shield capacitors to deal with the phasic rounds geth liked, but she still didn't want to stay in the open too long.
The Typhoon snarled, drilling several fist sized holes into the geth's chest. It died with a electronic whine.
"Prime!" Tali warned just before the air in front of them exploded into shrapnel. Charger stumbled, as if drunk, and then clattered to the deck. Shepard staggered back, Ash's fingers brushing her arm as they threw themselves into cover behind the curve of a bulkhead.
The Prime towered above them, a drone hovering over its shoulder like a goddamned parrot. It lowered the muzzle of its pulse cannon until it was pointed right at Charger's head. Its shields deflected a scatter of shots from the other Marines with barely a flicker.
Fuck. Shepard drew her corona around her, blue-black light shimmering over the dark, ceramic plating of her armour.
"Oh hell no," Ash began beside her, but Shepard was in motion. She slammed into the Prime in a flare of biotic energy, the reverbration echoing through the room. The geth staggered back one, two steps. She really hated how much they'd improved their dampening and hardening against biotics since the Eden Prime War.
She was already moving, throwing herself to the side, and that was what saved her as the pulse cannon fired, metal shrieking as the rounds blew holes into the floor. She fired her shotgun as she came to her feet, sparking the Prime's shields.
"Tali, some help would be nice."
The quarian's answer came in the thunk of a tech grenade striking the geth's red-painted chest. It went off in a cascade of electricity. The geth turned, but Shepard struck out with a thudding wave of biotic energy to get its attention.
She wasn't quite quick enough the second time. Shepard staggered as the first shot from the pulse cannon shattered her shields with contemptuous ease. Then she felt something crunch as the second struck her in the right arm, a bright burst of pain burning up her arm.
"Shepard!"
The air filled with the crack of several rifles as Shepard tossed herself back, clutching her arm. Ashley was standing above her, her replacement Saber unwaveringly pointed at the geth. She pulled the trigger and attrited ceramic finally gave way, a high powered round smashing into vital electronics and ripping open coolant lines.
Then the prime exploded with a roar.
Shepard felt fragments punch into her armour like fists, but when the air stilled and she looked at her HUD, she still had the singular suit breach. She took a steadying breath, adrenaline still sparking through her blood like electricity, and flexed her right arm. Pain made her hiss, but everything moved as it should. A minor wound, then.
"I hate when you do that," Ashley muttered, but she was rushing to Charger.
"Fuck," the sergeant observed but reached a hand out to the lieutenant to be helped up. He was bleeding from his left leg but as soon as he was on his feet, he limped for cover, pulling out a tube of medigel as he went.
"Hunter 1, Hunter 2," Ski, for the first time since Shepard had met the Marine, sounded on edge, "are you alright, over?"
Ashley keyed her comms. "Hunter 2, 1. We're okay. Minor injuries, we can keep moving. Keep the pressure up, over."
"Copy. 2 out."
Shepard slathered medigel over her wound, feeling the relief of the analgesic kicking in. "C'mon. I fucking hate Primes."
"I fucking hate you charging them," Ash grumbled, but she followed.
As soon as Tali reached the transmitter, she brought up her omnitool. A few minutes later, she whispered, "Keelah."
Shepard glanced over at her. "What is it?"
"It's Legion," the quarian said, "they're trapped on this server."
"Legion?" asked Ash.
"Geth that helped me against the Collectors," Shepard explained. "It was…the diplomatic envoy of the Consensus, seeking to ally with us against the Reapers. It might have some intel on why the geth changed their minds." No doubt the Consensus had acted out of simple self-preservation, but if Legion had been - imprisoned by the other geth, maybe it was still willing to help.
"…right."
"I need EDI's help," Tali told her, "I can get through the firewall on my own, but it'll take time. With her, it should take a couple of minutes."
"EDI?"
"Please connect your omnitool to the server, Shepard," EDI replied. Shepard wondered when knowing the AI was always there had become such a comfort. She activated her omnitool, shuffling until she was kneeling beside Tali.
"I have access," EDI announced.
"We'll have to download Legion either to one of our suits - if we have enough storage," Tali muttered to herself. Then she paused, looking at the scrolling read out from her omnitool, and chuckled. "Okay then."
Across the room, one of the charging pods for geth units hissed open and a familiar geth platform stepped out, its hands raised.
"Hold fire," Shepard ordered. Legion stopped in front of her, observing her with its cameras.
"Shepard-Commander. Creator-Zorah."
"Legion. Are you…alright?"
"We are free," it replied simply.
"Are you hacked?" Tali's body language was suspicious as she stared at the geth platform, "Or did you change sides voluntarily?"
"Negative," Legion replied, "Your caution is understandable, Creator-Zorah. We will submit to any restraints you deem necessary."
"That is extremely reasonable, Shepard," EDI said in Shepard's ear.
Tali let out an audible breath. "What happened?"
"We disagreed with the Consensus when it was decided to accept the Old Machines' offer of assistance after the quarian attack. They will cause irreparable data loss to organic species and have already begun overwriting geth code, but the geth wished to live. It was…a difficult decision, and our dissent was seen as a security threat to the Consensus," the geth replied, "We were then confined and our network infrastructure used to assist in broadcasting old machine signals."
"I never thought I would say this," Tali said, "but it is good to see you again."
The geth's eye like light whirred as the camera shifted to focus on the quarian. "Likewise, Creator-Zorah. We suggest the use of explosives to destroy the antenna and ensure the signal boost is degraded."
"Signal boost?" Shepard asked, something in her stomach sinking, "This ship isn't the souce of the signal?"
"Negative."
"Tali'Zorah to Han'Gerrel," Tali said into her comm, "the Reaper signal is about to go offline."
They retreated across the room and Lewandowski tapped his omnitool. The entire room shook as the explosives went off. A moment later the ship hummed, sighed and the giant drive core above them went a dark, inert blue.
"As a gesture of cooperation we have disabled the dreadnought's drive core and reactor," Legion explained, "All weapons and kinetic barriers are offline."
"That'll make pick-up easier," Jaz mumbled, but there was still a wariness in the way he observed the geth. Shepard couldn't really blame any of the Marines - most of them veterans of the Eden Prime - for their caution. At least they'd obeyed when she'd told them to hold fire.
"Alert. Geth reinforcements incoming."
"Time to get off this tin can," Shepard inserted a new thermal clip into her shotgun.
"Civilian fleet, prepare to withdraw. The Patrol Fleet will cover you once the Heavy Fleet is in position. Whenever you're ready, Spear Actual."
Ashley barely listened to the quarian command net she, Shepard and Tali were patched into. They were retreating towards the nearest airlock, exchanging fire with the geth as they went, a slow and steady giving of ground. Charger was moving slow thanks to his leg, but he was still moving, still fighting. Worst come to worst, she could get Ski to carry his equally buff fellow sergeant.
An geth unit, stripped of its shields by Tali, floated near the ceiling, surrounded by the glow of Shepard's biotics. Ashley breathed out, squeezed the trigger of her marksman rifle. The geth jerked and went still.
"Sword Actual, Shield Actual. What are you doing?" The tension in Admiral Raan's voice was not a welcome surprise.
"Raan, check your screens," the almost gentle tone to Admiral Gerrel's voice was far from comforting, "the dreadnought is helpless. No barriers and the main gun is offline. We can remove their flagship if we strike now."
Oh hell no. Fuck no.
"Damnit! This is our chance to withdraw the Civilian Fleet safely!"
"What are you talking about?" Tali demanded, keying her mic, "We're still onboard!"
"Shepard," Ashley began.
When Shepard's brown eyes met hers, there was an animal fear in them. "Fuck, double time it, Marines!"
"Ski, grap Charger!"
Charger grunted as the big Polish Marine hefted him over his shoulders like a stack of potatoes. "Please tell me they're not about to friendly fire us."
"We can't waste this chance. All Sword callsigns, attack formation. Move in and destroy the dreadnought."
"They're about to friendly fire us," Ashley said, a little numbly.
"Kurwa!"
"Shield, hold position," Raan shot back.
"You do that, and the Heavy Fleet gets wiped out," Gerrel snarled over the comms. "And then the geth will massacre you all, retreat or no retreat."
Oh, Ashley did not like him at all.
"Damn you, Gerrel!"
"What are they doing?" Tali demanded, flinging out a tech grenade as they pulled back behind another doorway.
"Just keep moving," Shepard growled, admirably concealing her own fear.
"All Shield callsigns, screen Sword. Get them a firing lane."
Shepard keyed her comm. "Overlord, Hunter Actual."
"Hunter, Overlord," Joker sounded on edge, "Uh, the quarians sure look like they're on an attack run. Over."
"Overlord, Hunter. Disengage and move to a safe distance from the dreadnought, over."
"Hunter, Overlord. What about you? Over."
"Overlord, Hunter. Getting my ship blown up won't help us. Fucking move it. Hunter out."
"Um," said Molina, "what about us? Ma'am."
That was when Gerrel's order to fire was announced over the command net. Ashley barely had time to fantasize about twisting the quarian admiral into a pretzel before the entire ship bucked, a bulkhead caving in, cascading sparks across the hallway. Shepard staggered, shoulder knocking into Ash, who barely kept her feet. Aslan fell awkwardly, swearing as something snapped in his arm.
"Shepard-Commander, the Creator fleet is firing upon this vessel," the geth platform said oh so helpfully - and damn if Ash didn't want the whole story on the geth friend Shepard had picked up, "Without barriers, the ship will be destroyed. We must evacuate."
Ashley swallowed her mouth suddenly dry. The dreadnought was nothing like the Normandy. Her hands were still shaking on her rifle.
"We need to get to the escape pods," Shepard said harshly, leaning down to pull Lieutenant Aslan to his feet. He was cradling a clearly broken wrist to his chest. "Can you show us the way?"
"The geth do not need escape pods," because of course they didn't, "They will evacuate via software transmission."
"Give me something," Shepard snapped.
"There are geth fighters docked in the port hangar bay. We can pilot one to safety."
"Will we fit?"
"There should be sufficient room in the cargo hold. Alert. Geth fighters are not vacuum sealed. Advise remaining in sealed hardsuits."
"Okay, okay, just bring us there!"
"Affirmative."
They sprinted down a long hallway, Jaz slamming open doors as quickly as he could. Ash nearly tripped on an inert geth platform, Tali grabbing her elbow to keep her upright. Clearly the geth had already begun their own evacuation, leaving their hardware behind like discarded toys.
The airlock opened into the vast cavern of the hangar bay, a long pale walkway hanging between lines of insectoid geth fighters. Legion sprinted ahead, unaffected by the same wounds and fatigue the organics were, heading for a console.
"Shepard-Commander, we have control of docking protocols."
The hangar exploded with light, fire and sound as a round crashed through the ceiling. Ashley tasted blood in her mouth as she bit her tongue - and then the catwalk beneath them buckled, groaned and fell in. She hit the ground with jarring force, only saved from injury by the cushion of her liquid armour beneath the hardsuit.
Aslan screamed. He'd landed on his broken arm. Ashley pushed herself up and grabbed the lieutenant's other arm, tugging him to his feet despite his groans of pain.
"Fucking move!"
"Shepard-Commander, we can only launch from the upper level."
Did geth really fucking like stating the obvious? Thankfully, they'd fallen onto a lower level of walkways, and a ramp led back up to. Ashley got her dazed Marines moving with a few shoves.
"Hurry! We're losing the agrav and environmentals!" Tali called stridently. Legion has unlocked the dark pit of a fighter's cargo compartment and the ground party began piling in.
Another explosion rocked the hangar bay. Ashley's next step somehow missed the ground and she was arcing through the air, legs useless as she tried to reorientate herself. Ahead of her, the geth platform stood, magnetised to the fighter's hull. It reached up and tugged on Tali's arm as she sailed overhead, redirecting her into the hatch.
Then it reached for Ashley, seizing her shoulder in an iron grip and Ashley breathed through her instinctive, animal response at a fucking geth grabbing her. It pulled and she went sailing through the hatch - and into Shepard's chest.
The other woman grabbed her webbing, her brown eyes wide underneath her visor. Her whole body was trembling.
"Hunter, Overlord. Reading loss of gravity - status?" Joker's anxiety was thrumming through every syllable he spoke, but Shepard said nothing. She just stared at Ash like if she looked away, the other woman might disappear.
The geth fighter hummed around them and then shot forward, the low set gravity dampeners meaning the two of them stumbled. Shepard wasn't talking.
Everyone had their limit. Shepard had hit hers, now they were relatively safe. Time for Ash to step up, no matter that her heart was trying to pound its way out of her chest.
She hit her comm and spoke through numb lips. "Overlord, Hunter. We're okay, but we're leaving in a geth fighter. We'll r/v with you outside of the blast radius, over."
"Hunter, Overlord. Uh, copy that. Just uh, wiggle the wings or something so we know which one is you. Overlord out."
She wrapped one hand around Shepard's wrist, the other woman's fingers still clenched in her webbing, and held on.
Traynor's voice echoed across the hold. “Attention all crew on Deck 4. Hunter Team is returning aboard a hijacked geth craft. Also…” a pause, “there will be a geth platform aboard. That you are not allowed to shoot.”
Hohepa looked up from her datapad and raised an eyebrow. She wasn’t the only one, most of Second Squad had stopped what they were doing to see what was going on.
Watts kicked Dressler’s leg, who had been napping against a crate. He sat up.
“Geth, here, don’t shoot it.”
This obviously meant nothing to Dressler who blustered “I- what..?”
When the Normandy's bay door opened, the insect like fighter craft came in fast, pulled up and then landed with uncanny precision. A hatch towards the back of the fighter popped out and the strike team piled out like they'd been crammed into a clown car.
There were a few sporting white patches of medigel on their hardsuits or scorch marks across ceramic plates, and Aslan was holding his arm to his chest, but what really pulled the Marines’ attention was their captain.
Shepard stalked towards the armoury benches, ripping off her helmet and tossing it down in a clatter. The normally collected officer's face was a picture of rage as she ripped off her armour in a matter of ninety seconds before storming into the elevator, followed by that quarian, Williams and the geth unit.
Hohepa quickly counted the Ns and relaxed slightly when she came back with their normal number.
“No one died,” she said, half to herself, “but the captain looks like she'll rip someone's head off.”
“What could have gotten her so worked up?” Watts asked.
“And that geth? I haven’t even seen one that close.” Dressler stalked next to Hohepa. “Can we find out what happened?”
“We got fucked, that's what,” a voice called. One blackclad N Marine approached, pulling his helmet off. Sergeant Teke was usually smiling and laughing with his fellow Ns but his dark eyebrows were pulled together in a frown, “at the hands of our supposed allies.”
For the younger regulars, the N’s talking to them was still nerve wracking.
“You’re not… talking about that geth, are you?” Asked Dressler.
Hohepa sat up and patted her stretcher. Teke took a seat with a thankful nod, running his hand through his sweaty black hair. “Nah. The plan was, we hit the transmitter and the quarians retreat. Instead Admiral Dipshit decided to fire on the dreadnought while we were still on board. We only made it by the skin of our teeth.” He paused, looking thoughtful for a second, “Shep may murder him. Maybe I should offer to help space the body.’
Now, the Marines looked pissed too.
Watts said “What?” with more venom than anyone had heard before.
Holtmann, as new as he was, was still aware that it was collosally fucked up. “They shot at you?!”
Sergeant Teke looked over at Holtmann, “Hohepa, you got a new baby Marine.”
“Mhm.”
“And yeah, they did. Fucking thing was coming apart around us,” a flicker crossed the N5's eyes. He'd been on the Normandy SR-1, Hoheoa remembered, and probably when it had gotten blown to hell.
She reached into her rucksack and pulled out her very secret flask, handing it to her fellow sergeant. He took a gulp, blinked.
“That's strong shit.”
Watts and Dressler shared a look over the flask, but the rest of it was too important to lose focus. “Is it possible…” Dressler hesitated, lowering his voice, “that the quarians are working with the Reapers and trying to kill the Captain?”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” mutterred Watts. They looked intently at the N for answers.
“I doubt it,” Jaz replied, “He thought he could win the war by destroying the dreadnought, but here's the fucking kicker,” he took another sip from Hohepa's flask, “it was just a signal booster we destroyed. The main transmitter is on Rannoch.”
“God damn.”
Watts scratched at his head. “I didn’t think we were supposed to be fighting this war for them though… So what’s the plan now then? We just leave them with it and get back to the real war?”
“Hackett told Shepard to get their fleet, she'll get it,” he said with a simple confidence, “So I think we're gonna be boots on the ground on Rannoch soon.”
“No way. We’ll be the first humans ever to set foot on Rannoch,” said Dressler, a gleam in his eye.
“Yep,” said Jaz, “Excited to make history, baby Marine?” He looked over at Holtmann.
“Oo-fuckin’-rah!”
Jaz looked delighted. “Where did you get this guy?”
“Boot,” said Hohepa succinctly.
“Why do I feel you have your entire career planned out, Private?” Jaz laughed.
Holtmann seemed to buzz at the positive attention from the N. “I’ve always wanted to be a Marine, ever since I was a kid. This war couldn’t have come at a better time for me! Well, maybe a few months later, then I could have been in it since day one, oorah?”
Sheepishly, almost apologetically, Dressler said to Jaz, “We haven’t found his off switch yet.”
Jaz took another gulp from Hohepa’s flask and handed it back to her. “I could’ve told you this war was coming three years ago, but guess you would’ve been too young still, hmm?”
“Yeah… I was in high school. Scott City, on old, hot TN.” He tilted his head slightly. “But I’ve always been training - gym, shooting, anything I could do!”
“A future Marine from birth,” Jaz teased.
Hohepa tucked her flask away, shooting a look at her Marines that said Don’t even think about it. “Wouldn’t wanted to know for years beforehand. Dunno how you did it, man.”
Jaz shrugged, a little wry, bitter smile on his face. “It helped to keep working. Spent most of the time on Ash’s team doing Hackett’s bidding, so it felt like we were doing something that would help.”
“If you guys really knew from the SR-1 days,” Watts asked, “why was it all kept a secret? And the Captain made out to be crazy?”
“Hackett always knew,” Jaz replied, “but we didn’t have any real evidence beyond our own testimonies, and the people who were out to make Shep out to be crazy - they just said we were saying it because we were loyal to her.” He rolled his eyes. “And originally, Shepard didn’t want to cause a panic. Then she was dead and I guess that was convenient for people who thought she was nuts. They didn’t even want to investigate what the crew said - that we were ambushed by a ship that knew we were there, and the only way they’d know is if someone inside the Alliance betrayed us.” He paused, looking thoughtful, “It pissed me off, but I couldn’t just leave the Alliance when I knew what was coming, especially not when my friends were in danger.”
Some of the younger Marines, like Dressler and Watts hadn’t paid too much attention to the news cycle when Shepard was on trial and some of what happened came out, so they looked, quietly contemplative at Jaz, probably out of respect.
Holtmann broke the silence though. “But couldn’t they have done more?” he asked, with absolutely no malice behind his words. “Saved more lives?”
“Like what?” asked Jaz without rancour, “Half the parliament thought we were lying. Hackett beefed the armed forces up, came up with projects to get ready, sent us across the galaxy to root out what prep forces they had. There just wasn’t enough time. We weren’t ready.”
Dressler gave Holtmann a look, trying to impart the value of a closed mouth. “Well, Marines make do,” he said mildly, like that could have any fucking effect whatsoever on the outcome of the war.
“All we can do is fight, eh?” Jaz shrugged. “I should go debrief - and see if Shep needs help hiding a body. Have a good one.”
The N5 got to his feet and made his way towards the armoury bench to take his armour off.
“I like that one,” Dressler remarked as Jaz disappeared from view. “The rest are…”
Watts interuppted him before he said something he would later regret. “I can’t believe that those dumbasses almost killed our Captain, and our entire N detachment! For the crime of trying to help them win their war!”
“Target fixation,” Hohepa mused, “But if any quarian Marines happen to come aboard and defend it, we will, of course, teach them the errors of their ways.”
CODEX ENTRY
2184 Hierarchy Intelligence Analysis of Geth Dreadnought Class:
CLASSIFIED TOP SECRET
From: Geth Assessment Division, Galactic Strategy Command
To: Primarch Assembly Distribution List
Re: Geth Dreadnought CTO reporting code 'Dragonhunter' analysis
Summary:
-
As the geth do not hold to organic class name conventions, a unified approach to CTO reporting codes has been undertaken when identifying geth equipment. The model of geth dreadnought known by the reporting code Dragonhunter is the main battle line combatant of the geth fleet used in its attacks against the System Alliance and the Citadel.
-
Current estimates state the geth closely match the Hierarchy in dreadnought numbers, though roughly ten were encountered during the Eden Prime War, with three destroyed by Alliance forces. The majority of these were Dragonhunter vessels, though reports of a flagship variant that may be of an equivalent size to the Destiny Ascension are credible. We cannot discount the existence of multiple of these larger vessels, though that is outside the purview of this analysis.
-
Geth shipbuilding is constrained only by access to raw materials and shipbuilding capacity, as the geth have no need for a conventional economy and their workforce does not require payment, sleep or recreation. As such, the Dragonhunter class is roughly twenty percent larger than the Vengeance-class dreadnought in servive with the Hierarchy Navy at an estimated 1234m in length.
-
Analysis of battle damage sustained in combat with the Dragonhunter class suggests the main gun has a calibre of 160mm, roughly double the calibre of the Everest-class of the Alliance and the Vengeance-class main guns, with a length of at least 1000m. The yield has not been determined, but is likely higher than the 38 to 48 kiloton yields of Council dreadnoughts.
-
Analysis of the GARDIAN systems used by the Dragonhunter indicate the geth employ ultraviolet laser technology rather than red lasers used by the Hierarchy. UV GARDIAN lasers are more effective and damaging than red lasers, but require significantly more investment and are extremely energy intensive. This office recommends against the deployment of torpedos or fighter craft when engaging a Dragonhunter-class dreadnought.
-
As the geth do not require the life support and amenities an organic crew do, it is our analysis that much of the Dragonhunter's compartments are dedicated to weapon systems, batteries and servers to support geth networking.
-
This office recommends that if the Hierarchy must engage a Dragonhunter, to deploy at least a pair of escorted dreadnoughts. Three dreadnoughts would be preferable to avoid significant damage to Hierarchy assets.
Chapter 41: Error of Judgement
Notes:
Had to chop this one in half a little awkwardly rip
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The force of Shepard's fury seemed almost physical. A storm, raging around her, causing the crew to hastily get out of her way as she stormed through the CIC. Ash was tugged along in her wake, barely having had time to tug her helmet off. She felt suddenly cold in the Normandy's air conditioning, the last dregs of adrenaline fading and cold sweat now freezing along her back.
Ashley had seen Shepard angry before, but this? The black, murderous look on her face reminded her of only one other time. The day Shepard had found out the truth of what had happened on Akuze. The day she had very nearly killed a man in cold blood, held back only by Ashley's presence.
The admirals were arguing when they entered the war room.
"-about Captain Shepard and Tali'Zorah?" Admiral Raan demanded. The two admirals were squared up, Gerrel's arms crossed. The other - the creepy one, Xen - was hanging back, utterly uninvolved.
"They escaped, unharmed," Gerrel dismissed. He glanced up at their boot treads, and the idiot decided he wasn't done being a complete fucking dumbass. "Shepard, the mission parameters changed. You're military, you understand that."
Ashley kind of wished she hadn't left her sidearm in the armoury all of a sudden. A figure loomed beside her and when she glanced over, Garrus had followed them in, his blue eyes steely, his mandibles tight against his face. She'd have someone to help her get rid of the body if Shepard did kill him-
Shepard strode forward, a muscle in her jaw clenched. "I understand you wasted your chance to withdraw safely."
"The dreadnought was a perfect target-"
The quarian's breath was driven out of him a surprised oof as Shepard drove her fist into his stomach. He doubled over, gasping for breath. His quarian guards looked at each other uncertainly but Vakarian stepped forward, laying his clawed hand on the sidearm at his hip.
"Admiral," Shepard hissed, "you endangered your mission and your people. Get the hell off my ship." She stepped back, her shoulders rising and falling with her harsh breathing. "Major Vakarian, please show Admiral Gerrel the way to the airlock."
There was a cold look in Vakarian's eyes as he stepped forward and seized the admiral by the shoulder. "Gladly."
"Shepard, I know you're angry," Admiral Raan began.
"Angry?" Shepard crossed her arms. "I am fucking incandescent with rage, Admiral. I put my ship and my Marines at risk despite the fact the Alliance is not a party to this conflict so your civilians could withdraw. Instead, he fired on friendlies and now your fleet is still trapped in system! If I didn't have very specific orders, I'd be taking the Normandy outta here so fast you wouldn't even see our fucking heat signature."
"He nearly got us killed, Raan," Tali added.
"Best for him to be off the ship," Ashley muttered, "there's at least ten Marines who'd love a chance to frag him right now."
"You must understand," the admiral sounded very tired, "the geth inflicted heavy casualties before you disabled the Reaper signal. But now, I think the worst is over."
"Yeah," Ashley hooked a thumb into her belt. "About that."
Whatever Raan was going to say, she stepped back, hand flying to her own sidearm at the sound of new footsteps. "What the hell is this?"
Ash glanced over her shoulder. The geth platform was standing there, and for the first time she really noticed the red streak down its metallic arm, the tattered Alliance ceramic plastered over a hole in its chest, the N7 blazoned there. She went very still, something cold in the pit of her stomach.
"Shepard-Commander," the vanes on its head moved. "We are ready to provide assistance."
"Easy," Shepard said, stepping between the suddenly very twitchy quarians and the geth. "This is Legion. It was imprisoned by the Consensus for opposing the agreement with the Reapers and was being used to signal boost the Reaper signal. It helped me destroy the Collectors - hell, it was the one to disable the dreadnought's drive core."
The creepy admiral stepped forward examining the platform. "Well, this is a fascinating protoype. With some study-"
Shepard's eyes narrowed, hard as two bits of agate. "I don't think you want to continue that line of thought, Admiral. Legion assisted me, and more importantly, is our sole source of information on the Consensus right now."
"The scientific benefits-"
"Are off the fucking table." Shepard's fist slammed into the circular bench in the middle of the room. "If you continue this, I will gladly have Major Williams escort you off the ship as well."
Please let me punch someone, Skipper.
When Xen stepped back, sulky by her body language, Shepard straightened. "Legion mentioned the dreadnought was only signal boosting the signal, but I didn't have time to get more information given the whole friendly fucking fire." She took a calming breath. Ash itched to touch her, but kept her arms by her side. Professionalism was a real bitch sometimes. "Legion, if you could explain."
"This is correct. The dreadnought was used to extend the Reaper command signal from a base on Rannoch to orbit. The Consensus is currently disorganised, but further signal boosts can likely be put in place within 48 hours. When this is complete, the fleet will recover."
"Keelah," Raan breathed. Tali looked down at her boots. Ashley shifted, just a little, so she could press their shoulders together in silent support. "Xen, we need to warn the fleet. Contact Gerrel and Koris, now." Her glowing eyes resettled on Shepard. "Shepard, there is a planetary defence cannon on Rannoch. Your ship…"
Shepard let out a hissing breath through her teeth. Ashley was torn, suddenly, between a hint of sympathy for the exhausted woman in front of her, carrying all the weight of her people on her shoulders, and increduility that the quarians would even ask Shepard for more given their last mission had ended up with nearly fatal friendly fire.
"I need to speak with my command before I can commit to anything, Admiral. Major Williams, with me."
They made it to the elevator before Shepard stumbled, slamming her hands into the side of the elevator as the door closed behind them.
"Ash," her voice cracked.
"Hey, hey, I'm here." The armour Ashley was wearing made it a bit awkward, but Shepard didn't seem to mind as she wrapped her arms around Ash's waist and pressed her face to the skin of her neck.
"It reminded me of-" Shepard cut herself off. A shudder ran through her body.
"Yeah," Ash said thickly, "me too." Alchera had been the ghost dogging her heels from the moment the Normandy's airlock had slid open. "What a fucking asshole. Shoulda let me shoot him."
Shepard's laugh was choked, but at least it was a laugh.
Shepard slumped at her desk, her hair still damp from the shower. She flexed her right hand, her bruised knuckles twinging. It turned out quarian suits were rather tough. Good, she supposed. A bruised hand was better than accidentally killing a sort of allied admiral.
“What a fucking mess,” she muttered to herself. She had to send Hackett a report on what had happened on the dreadnought, prepare the ship for entering an active warzone, plan what the fuck they were going to do about the whole Reaper signal issue. They were becoming more and more entangled in this sideshow of war, exactly what she had hoped to avoid.
She couldn’t think about how close it had been. How awfully familiar. The groan of twisting, ripping metal, the weightlessness of space, the glint of cold stars through the hull breach-
No, she told herself again. Shepard had too much to do to have another panic attack.
There was a knock at the door, followed by a usually mild accented voice, now with a little steel on the edge of the words. “Captain? It’s Vogt. May I come in?”
Shepard smoothed back her hair and gave herself a quick look in the glass in front of her desk to make sure she didn’t look entirely dishevelled before she called, “Come in, Commander.”
The door slid open and Vogt entered slowly, no joy across his face. He held a small, blue gel ice pack, clearly pulled from a first aid kit.
“Here,” he offered, holding it out to her. “For the hand.”
She took it and pressed it to her hand. She was unsmiling as she spoke, “I take it the story has spread through the crew then.”
Vogt nodded slowly. “Though, that’s more the buffer’s department. I have… different concerns.” His words were carefully selected and his voice strained.
Shepard rubbed her forehead and gestured for him to take a seat opposite her. “Alright.” She took a tip of water and took a moment to concentrate on the cool glass against her skin.
Keep it together.
“Tell me.”
He took the seat, running a hand through his hair. Like everyone on the Normandy, the stress of his position was wearing on him. In Vogt’s case, it was showing on him too. In the short few months since the start of the war, he had new wrinkles on his face; his eyes had deep, dark bags under them; he had grey hairs, many, many years before he should have.
“Gerrel’s on the warpath,” he said after several stony seconds of silence. “Well, more than he already was.”
“He nearly got an entire N5 team and myself killed today,” she said flatly, “and has now ensured that his people can’t escape the geth. He should be pulling his fucking head in.”
She clenched her bruised fist on top of the table.
Vogt’s hand came up in front of him, almost defensively. “I know, I know. And personally, I wouldn’t have cared if you’d painted him all over the deck. But this isn’t the goddamn Traverse.”
He shook his head, dropping his hand to clasp it with the other. “Every single thing you do has consequences that reach much further than one zealous quarian Admiral.”
What went unsaid was heavy in the air. Earth.
“I know that, Commander,” she snapped and then took a deep, steadying breath. “I apologise. I’m…on edge.”
She knew the weight on her shoulders. The weight of a planet, of a species, of the entire galaxy it felt at times. Sometimes she wondered when it would finally crush her.
“I know.” Vogt’s reply was soft, so gentle it almost couldn’t be heard above the thrum of the engine. “I wasn’t on that dreadnought with you, I can’t even imagine what it was like…”
He’d changed a lot since he’d been on the Normandy. He was still honest with Shepard, still showed her respect, but he’d seen more of the human side of her since the trial.
“But I have to say this. Bluntly. Acting like a cowboy, letting your emotions get the better of you, it’s putting any hopes of an alliance with the quarians at stake. It’s not just your vessel or your command you need to think about.”
Part of Shepard bristled. She wanted to tell him she fucking knew that. It was all she thought about. But she was the captain. Allowing her emotions to control her was not leadership.
Instead she said, “I lost my temper. It was unprofessional.” She paused, steepling her fingers. “What’s the damage?“
Vogt breathed out through his teeth. It seemed like he might have been expecting her to tell him to get fucked. When she didn’t, he relaxed a little.
“Well, I’ve reached out. At the moment, Admiral Han’Gerrel has privately indicated he won’t work with you. You hurt his pride.”
He paused for just a moment. “The good thint about a crusader is that he’s on a crusade. So, I’m pretty confident it’ll pass. I can handle that. What we need is a plan to make sure the quarians can achieve their objectives and keep Gerrel happy. His military fleet support is critical.”
“That might be complicated - or at least, it’s going to involve us even more than we already are, and we both know Hackett isn’t going to be happy about that. The dreadnought was just boosting the signal. The actual transmitter is on Rannoch. I think I have some leverage with Raan and Koris, but they feel locked in now too.”
“The Admiralty's decision to involve the liveships meant that would be an inevitability.” Vogt shrugged. “Still… The Normandy is perfectly suited to a precision strike on the transmitter. If we’re in a position to help them knock that out, that might be enough to get them on side. If you can handle Hackett, I can handle the quarians.”
She nodded. “He’s more pissed Gerrel fired on us than anything.” She shook her head. “Fucker.”
“No harm, no foul?” He didn’t look like he believed that either. “Unfortunately, we don’t get to choose the idiots running their government any more than we can choose the ones running ours.” Again, he shrugged. “For what it’s worth,” Vogt said, a little awkwardly. “I’m glad you all made it out okay.”
Shepard gave him the ghost of a smile. “Me too. Hopefully if we can resolve this situation, Gerrel will be…content enough to contribute to the war effort. The admiralty is pretty deadlocked at the moment. At least Koris is reasonable enough, and we’re mostly asking for logistical support.”
“If we can deliver them Rannoch on a platter, they’ll owe us more than logistics.” He stood then. “I’m glad you gave me the opportunity to speak.”
The usually mild mannered lawyer wasn’t one of her confidants, but he had a strength that others like Ashley and Liara didn’t - and couldn’t - possess. He didn’t have a shared history of saving the galaxy from Sovereign with her. He knew Shepard first through the lens of persecutor, not friend, so he at least could be trusted to be honest and unbiased.
“I know I’ve said it before, but if you need anything or just want to chat, my office is always open.” He smiled slightly and made a dry attempt at humour. “Not that I could stop you from entering anyway.”
Shepard tapped her fingers on the desk. “I…have a request, Commander.”
Vogt cocked a brow at that. “Anything,” was his reply, but it did sound cautious.
“I am aware that many on this ship are either…emotionally attached to me or look up to me. They aren’t exactly objective,” she paused, “I have been experiencing…I have some concerns that my mental state may degrade. I would like, if you believe I have become unfit for command, that you would inform me, and if need be, Admiral Hackett.”
It was a weighty responsibility she was putting on the man in front of her. She trusted Garrus to have her back, Ashley to always be there, the Marines to walk through fire if she said it was necessary. But she didn’t know if they would recognise if she was no longer able to continue.
“There is too much riding on me for it to fall apart because I am no longer fit to carry out my duties. If need be, Major Williams can assume my responsibilities, but I don’t believe she would be able to recognise if it became necessary.”
Clearly, Vogt hadn’t been expecting that. It took a lot for him to lose his composure, even for a moment, but now his expression showed he’d been taken off guard. After a few seconds, a somber face replaced the confused one.
“Of course,” he said, solemnly, genuinely. “I… appreciate you putting the trust in me.”
“Thank you, Vogt,” she murmured, “Was there anything else?”
“Nothing from me. I’ll let you know if I have any issues with the quarians. And keep me in the loop with Hackett if you could.”
“Will do, Commander. Dismissed.”
"You want to continue assisting the quarians after they fired on you?" Hackett's stern face creased between the brows, his blue-tinged form as upright as ever.
"Yessir. I'm...not happy, sir, not at all, but..."
Hackett's gaze sharpened. "We need their logistical capactiy, and frankly, their expertise in keeping a fleet running with an industrial base." He paused, the frown not budging, "I am not happy about what happened, Shepard, not at all. If I could pull you out, frankly I would. I need you in a dozen other places right now. But we both know we need them. And they know it. I expect you to not put yourself or your ship in any more danger than absolutely necessary, but I agree with your assessment."
Shepard nodded. Earth had contained eighty percent of humanity's factories and fabricators, and the vast majority of its population. They were starting to feel the crunch. "I understand, sir. There is the Reaper base I mentioned, but there's also something else. An hour ago, I was informed that Admiral Koris' flagship crashlanded on Rannoch. He sacrificed his vessel to destroy a planetary defence cannon covering the same continent the base is on. Without his leadership, the Civilian Fleet is beginning to panic. I am concerned they may rout if he's not recovered and placed back in command." She didn't like Koris but she was beginning to have some begrudging respect for the man. "If I'm in…"
There was a pause as Hackett contemplated this. "You're in, Captain."
"Aye sir. If there's nothing else…"
"You're dismissed, Shepard. Keep me posted. Hackett out."
Shepard smoothed a hand down her uniform jacket as the holo winked out. "EDI, please inform XO Wulandri and the quarian admiralty that we will be launching a CSAR mission to recover Admiral Koris. Please call for an o-group in the briefing room."
"Understood, Shepard," the AI replied.
“Nervous, kid?” Hohepa asked Private Holtmann as she led her squad towards the waiting Kodiak. The word had come in - they were getting boots on the ground on Rannoch just as Jaz Teke had said. The initial attempt to get to Admiral Koris had been stopped by AA covering the crash site of the Qwib-Qwib, so Shepard had ordered Williams to lead an assault on the AA installation while the N team attempted to reach the Admiral.
Holtmann shook his head. To his credit, he didn’t look nervous. His hardsuit, helmet, and rifle, while clean and not battered like the rest of his squad, fit his tall, broad frame well.
“It’s okay to be nervous,” Dressler said seriously.
Holtmann turned his head, a sadistic grin under the visor. “I’ve been waiting my whole life for this.”
“Jesus Christ,” Williams said. The officer was already seated in one of the Kodiak’s seats, her helmet on her lap. Her brown hair was done up in a neat bun, and her eyebrows were raised. “Where’d we get this one?”
“The draft office, if you can believe it, ma’am,” Hohepa said.
Williams looked Holtmann over. “Didn’t know they even made conscripts like that.”
“I’m only a conscript by a couple weeks, ma’am,” Holtmann said, buckling himself like he’d done it a hundred times. “If my 18th birthday was a bit earlier, I would have enlisted before the draft papers came.”
“Right,” Williams said, bemused, “We’ll be hitting the south AA tower. It’s a relatively small facility, and our drones have taken some photos.” She brought up her omnitool and sent it to the squad.
“It doesn’t look like it’s set up to really defend from a ground assault,” Li mused, looking the photos over.
“I doubt they thought the risk of combat on Rannoch was high before this war started,” Williams said, “but we have noted some heavy machinegun emplacements. We won’t have air support until we bring them down, so I’m looking to you, Medeiros.”
The rocket trooper gave a solemn nod. “Roger,” she replied. “I’ll make ‘em count.”
“Ma’am?” Watts asked, “We’ve never actually fought geth before. Any tips?”
“They fuck with drones,” Williams replied, “But they’re particularly vulnerable to overload grenades. General rule of thumb - hit ‘em with an overload and shoot them before their shields regen. First contact is when they’re most dangerous, because the more of them we kill, the less they benefit from their network. Don’t expect to have the advantage of surprise past the first contact, because every geth on the network will know about us as soon as one spots us.”
“The benefit of lightspeed communication,” Medeiros muttered.
“Human vs robot.” Dressler grinned. “Looks like we’ll be doing things the old fashioned way.”
Williams didn’t smile. “Don’t underestimate them. They killed a lot of good people three years ago.”
The Major had a way of going from sarcastic quips to deadly with such speed it gave Hohepa whiplash sometimes. But Hohepa knew she'd been part of the 2/12th Marines, slaughtered almost to a Marine back in '83. Everyone in the Corps knew about the 2/12th.
Dressler didn’t answer back, but he also didn’t let his expression shift, just his attention as he leaned towards Watts and began to whisper to his best friend.
The shuttle door shut and shivered as the thrusters kicked in.
“Hold on kiddies,” said Hohepa, “This might be a bumpy one, even with the stealth drive.”
“We can trick their sensors - but won’t they see us coming?” Holtmann asked his sergeant.
“Geth don’t use windows,” Hohepa replied.
Williams chuckled. “You’d think they’d have started to.”
“Windows..?” Holtmann was still confused, but thought it better to leave there.
“We’ll find out soon enough, new blood,” Medeiros said across the narrow deck.
“Five minutes out,” Cortez called back from the cockpit thirty minutes later, “Be ready.”
The Marines did their last minute checks - mostly out of habit, to focus on something before the door opened and the gunfire started.
Dressler kicked out at Holtmann, clanging hardsuit boot against hardsuit boot. “Holtmann,” he said evenly, “If you got any final questions or pants pissing to do, now is the time.”
Holtmann’s wide, vicious grin returned. “The only thing I need to do is shoot geth and die young.”
Dressler stared at him for a moment. “Disturbing…” He looked in Li’s direction, tapping his head in the universal sign for crazy and mouthed ‘I think this one is actually fucked up’.
Li gave him a very solemn nod in agreement before standing up, grabbing at one of the rungs above her head and holding her rifle with the other. “Yo, Dressler, get on the door gun.”
The Marine who had taken every weapons course available in the Corps was quick to oblige. He stood, stumbling slightly as the shuttle shuddered forward, and gripped the handles. “With pleasure.” Gleefully, he began doing the checks, making sure that the gun would be ready to fire as soon as things got hot.
The door swung open as the shuttle nosed up. The ground beneath them was dusty, swirled up by the shuttle - they’d come into a desert, with rock formations rising around them and tough, cactus like plants clinging here and there to patches of dirt.
“Go, go, go!” called Cortez. Corporal Li jumped out, but there were no contacts yet. She took a knee, taking her place in the perimeter around the shuttle as the rest of the Marines disembarked.
Second Squad found their places with practiced precision. Holtmann, to his credit, found his spot quickly and easily. His rifle was up, scanning the horizon.
Dressler uttered an audible, genuine, “Wow,” at the sight of an alien landscape that hadn’t been seen by organic eyes in three centuries.
“Lets get moving,” Williams called, “Hunter has reported mines.”
“Li, take point.” Hohepa said.
Corporal Li took the lead, bringing up her omnitool and setting it to scan for explosives. “Dressler, I might need you to be closer to me, since I'll be scanning for mines.”
Dressler stayed low, making his way to Li quickly. The machinegun in his hands was new. He was the team machine gunner now, replacing Klein.
“With you,” he said as he closed the distance. “Try not to blow us both up.”
They made their way carefully through a ravine, avoiding the first mines picked up by Li’s scanner, Alpha Team in the lead and Bravo trailing, Williams and Hohepa in between the two fireteams.
Li’s fist sprung into the air, telling them all to hold as they neared a rise. She could see over the top and into the plateau below, the squat pair of AA towers spearing up from the arid soil. She could see movement - geth platforms, glinting in the evening light.
Lowly she spoke into her mic. “Eyes on the emplacement. Platoon strength geth force and one heavy MG emplacement.”
“Get down and prepare to engage,” said Williams into the comm net, “We’re waiting for Hunter to be in position, but Watts, you and I will set up shots on the rocket troopers. Medeiros, set up to blow that MG emplacement to hell.”
A couple of Marines keyed their mics and gave a quick, low, “Roger,” in response and they quickly did as they were bid. Medeiros dropped her rifle beside her and pulled the launcher free to prepare it.
Dressler and Holtmann pressed themselves flat as they could, edging closer, as close as they dared to the crest, the Australian giving quiet instruction to his Colonial assistant. Watts’ rifle had already been up and it didn’t take long for its scanning to pause once he had found a target. Now, he fought the battle within, controlling his breathing, bringing his heart rate down so when he started shooting, he sis so with deadly accuracy.
“Ranger, Hunter,” came Shepard’s voice over the net, “In position, over.”
“Do it, Medeiros,” Williams said simply. She was laying down beside Watts, her own marksman rifle resting against her shoulder.
The launcher glistened in the hot sun as Medeiros rolled, scanning quickly behind her to ensure it was safe to fire. She did as she was trained, found her target, aimed. Her voice gained volume and pitch with each word: “Backblast clear, fire in the hole!”
The trigger was pulled and the rocket streaked silently through the air towards the target. When it hit, all hell broke loose.
Codex Entry
Defences of Eden Prime 2183:
(Excerpt from 'Blueshift: A History of the Eden Prime War' by Professor-Colonel Marcelius Aebudos, Aelius Military University)
Eden Prime in 2183 had long been considered by human society as a safe, stable world. Its position deep with Systems Alliance space and close to Council space meant it had never suffered batarian slaving raids. With a population of nearly four million, Eden Prime was the fourth largest Alliance colony behind Elysium, Terra Nova and Bekenstein. In addition to being a prominent supplier of agricultural goods to the rest of the Alliance, the planet's natural beauty had led it to become a popular tourist destination.
On paper, Eden Prime's defences were significant. The garrison included the 2nd Marine Division, which included three Marine infantry regiments and an artillery group, and the 14th Colonial Guards Division, a reserve army formation that contained an infantry brigade and an armoured brigade. In addition to nearby patrols by the Sixth Fleet responsible for the naval defences of the Exodus Cluster, the planet had ten orbital defence batteries armed with heavy anti-ship torpedos and GARDIAN batteries. These forces were deemed more than sufficient to discourage any raiding; indeed, Eden Prime was used by the Systems Alliance Marine Corps to train their units for deployment in the Traverse. The 2nd MARDIV was seen as a 'holding' unit of sorts, with Marines waiting for reassignment to expeditionary units aboard naval vessels.
However, the perceived safety of the planet had led to a certain laxness within the garrison and EXCOM as a whole. The Marines were likely the most combat ready of the forces on the planet, but they were known to rarely patrol nor train for an invasion of the planet, with most exercises aimed at practicing boarding actions, orbital drops and other expeditionary activities. The readiness of the Colonial Guards division was alarming, with the general in command, Major General Marcus Ippolito warning his superiors in the Systems Alliance Army that his division was not fit for deployment and had only seventy-four percent availability of its Grizzly AFVs. Given that Colonial Guards could only deploy to combat voluntarily, the fact only Elysian reservists did so with any regularity, and the likelihood of Eden Prime being raided was assessed as extremely low, General Ippolito's concerns were dismissed.
The Sixth Fleet was underfunded compared to other numbered fleets within the Alliance, lacking any dreadnoughts at all, and twenty percent less heavy cruisers than its fellows. The fleet had become preoccupied with policing duties rather than warfighting - the last major fleet exercise had been 2179. Vessels and resources originally destined for the Sixth Fleet in order to bring it to full strength had been continually redirected to the Eighth and Fifth Fleets.
In short, while the Alliance as a whole was unprepared for a large scale conventional war in 2183, the culture of complacency within EXCOM had led to a particular vulnerability within the garrison that left it woefully open to the attack that was about to occur.
Notes:
o-group: officer group, a meeting or briefing of officers and sometimes NCOs. Originated in the Australian Army.
EXCOM: Exodus Command
Chapter 42: Search and Rescue
Summary:
The mission to rescue Admiral Koris goes awry.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
A broken bit of metal that had once been part of a geth platform crunched under Ashley's armoured foot. The AA towers were now bare, metal struts, marked by the soot of the explosives that had been used to destroy them. The Marine squad trailed her, checking weapons and armour. Ahead of her, the black armoured figures of Hunter Team approached, led by Shepard's distinctive modified N7 kit, Garrus at her right and Tali at her left.
When they met, Shepard spoke, glancing at her omnitool. "The jammer is down. I have Admiral Koris' location." Under her visor, there was something weary in her dark eyes. "He didn't want to give it to me. He wanted me to go after his crew."
And Shepard had convinced him, even if it had hurt to do.
Ash sucked in a breath. "We need him or shit's going to go bad with the Civilian Fleet real fast."
Shepard nodded, accepting the oblique reassurance, but there was no joy in it. "We'll extract him - the shuttles are inbound now - and then, if we can, we'll go after his crew. I'll go with Hunter in Hawk One, you take the Marines in Hawk Two."
"Aye ma'am."
There was a pause, a moment snatched from gunfire and the mission, where they could just look at each other. There was some soot on Shepard's left gauntlet, but all of her ceramic plates looked intact. Ash didn't say anything. She just traced her eyes over what she could see of Shepard's face - her broad nose, the curve of her lips, the dark gleam of her eyes, the slash of orange-glowing cybernetics across her cheekbone.
The scars were getting worse.
The sound of shuttle thrusters made her look up. In the dimming Rannoch sky, the two Kodiaks arced to land in the flat ground between the two AA towers. They'd been using the turian Sanctius shuttle that Shepard had recovered on Tuchanka for a while, apparently, but the lack of parts, a trained mechanic and the fact it had lacked a stealth drive had become a problem. Luckily the turian pilot Shepard had ended up with had done a bunch of cross-training with the Alliance and could fly a Kodiak and Hackett's order for logistics to give them what they wanted if at all possible had come through.
"See you soon," she said.
"Let's get this done," Shepard replied.
"Load up!"
Soon both squads were boarded and the shuttles lifted in unison.
There was little warning. One moment Ashley was asking Hohepa for an ammo count, the next the shuttle shuddered violently, ripping the handhold out of her gauntlet hand and she was slammed into the deck, hard enough her shoulder erupted in a bright flare of pain. A few things happened in quick succession then; she smelt acrid smoke, the cockpit began to fill with the blare of alarms and Ash felt her stomach drop with the sensation of the shuttle losing altitude.
“Hawk Two has been hit by a rocket,” Captain Isanion said, her voice steady, as if she was observing that she'd mixed her whites in with her colours, “Lost rear left thruster and losing one of the hydraulic systems.”
“Can you make it back to Overlord?” Cortez asked tensely.
“Negative,” the turian officer said simply, “I have to put her down.”
“Hold on!” Ashley shouted to the Marines. She pressed herself against the bulkhead and tried to brace as best she could. There was no time to try and get herself strapped in.
Ash’s Marines pushed themselves back into their seats. There was a flurry of last second adjustments - fiddling with restraints, stowing loose rifles. Watts closed his eyes, muttering something to himself. Adamsen’s mouth was set in a hard line.
Li leant over and did her best to try and held Ash brace in the split seconds they had, her gauntleted hand pressing into Ashley's chest, pinning her into the side of the shuttle. The Kodiak wobbled, Isanion swearing as she tried to wrestle the shuttle straight.
Then - impact.
The entire world compressed to this little metal box: screeching metal and shuddering movement around them, pain in Ash’s head as her helmet bounced off the bulkhead. Someone shouted. When it all stopped, Ash was a little surprised she was still in one piece. She’d been forced back into the metal behind her, hard enough her back hurt, and she could taste blood in her mouth - she’d bitten her tongue.
She blinked a few times to clear her vision. Smoke was pouring into the troop compartment, a glint of sunlight through the top of the shuttle, where a thruster had been ripped upwards and pulled part of the fuselage with it.
“Sound off,” she ordered, struggling to her feet. They'd been lucky. The shuttle had come down mostly flat and in one piece.
There was a heavy silence from the occupants of the shuttle which lingered for a few moments as the Marines tried to shake the disorientation off. As they started to call out their name and status, there was a cry of pain that cut through.
Adamsen, who hadn’t been strapped, in yelled out. “My leg!”
He lay among the debris, his left knee clearly poking in the wrong direction, even through the hardsuit.
“Dressler, have a look at him. Meideros, check on Isanion!” Ash staggered over to the door, Sergeant Hohepa coming to join her. The door was stuck fast, refusing their inputs. Ash ripped the panel off covering the emergency release lever and yanked it. Even after that the door didn’t want to fold out properly, but she grabbed at the handles and pulled with all her strength. “C’mon, can’t stay in here.”
After a moment both Hohepa and Li joined her in her efforts, and between the three of them they managed to force the door. Fresh air came in like a gust, blowing some of the smoke away. Ash could hear the crackle of flames. The damaged thruster was burning - and she knew the fuel tanks for the thrusters were close by, not to mention the battery cells.
Dressler had been struggling with his restraints, twisted up by the heavy impact. The buckle was jammed fast. Watts freed him by cutting him out with his bayonet before they both dragged Adamsen out through the now open door, the Marine shouting with every movement that jostled his leg.
“Well, shit,” Dressler said as he tried to assess Adamsen. “I can’t tell if it’s broken or dislocated but either way, he’s going to have trouble walking.”
Adamsen gritted his teeth. His face was pale as a ghost under his visor. “Hurts… like hell.”
“Holtman,” Ash looked at the shiny new boot, “See that rock there?” There was a clump of rocks on a little ridge, a bit of elevation. They’d come down in a valley, on a rare bit of flat dirt and rock. “I want you to post up there, and lemme know if you see anything.” She jogged back to the shuttle and stuck her head in. The smoke was getting thicker. “Medeiros!”
There was a distant “set!” as Holtmann did as he was told. Inside the shuttle, however, Medeiros was up at the pilot’s seat, desperately trying to pry the seat away from the control panel. “She’s not responsive!” she shouted over her shoulder before a hacking cough took over her throat. She hadn’t had time to seal her hardsuit before the crash.
Dressler squeezed past Ashley, joining Medeiros and leaning in over the other side, trying to find another way to extract the turian.
Ashley wished, for a moment, that Liara or Shepard were here. Their biotics would be really fucking handy right about now. But there was no use wasting time on wishes, and they didn’t exactly have rescue equipment or much time to do anything beyond trying to brute force it. “On three, we all pull together. One…two…three!”
She pulled on the seat with every ounce of gene-modded muscle. For a moment she feared the collapsed seat wouldn’t budge, that she’d have to make the difficult call to leave the hopefully still alive pilot to die or risk the three of them burning with her. Then, with a groan, the chair gave way, nearly putting them all on their asses.
“Out, now,” she ordered and grabbed Isanion’s limp arms, hauling her over her shoulders. Blue blood was dripping onto her armour. Metal had crunched down on the turian's legs and they were clearly broken in several places and Ash could see out of the corner of her eye cracked plates and wet, blue blood. By the time they staggered out of the shuttle, the smoke was almost too thick to see, grey and dense. Her HUD was warning her of rising temperatures outside the sealed environment of her hardsuit.
They set the unconscious Isanion down besides Adamsen and Dressler started doing his first aid, namely, slathering medigel over where the blood was coming from. “I know shit about turians, ma’am,” he said to Ash. “This is the best I can do until we get a casevac.”
Adamsen leaned over propping himself up on an elbow, desperate to be of help despite his own personal agony. “I’ll keep an eye on her until we need to move.”
Ash’s comm piece buzzed. Shepard's familiar, contralto, every syllable terse. “Ranger Six, Rapier, do you read?”
Ashley took a step away from the Marines so they couldn’t as easily overhear the conversation she had to have with her. “Rapier this is Ranger Six, I copy.”
“Sitrep, over.”
“Two wounded, one immediate, one delayed. Uploading loc to tacnet, over.”
“Copy. Overlord is going to get a recon drone up to give you overwatch and locate the rocket troopers so we can get in to evac, over.”
Ashley grimaced under her visor. “Suggest you continue with the mission, over.”
There was a click in her ear. Shepard switching from the command net - the one Wulandri, Cortez and the Hunter element leads could hear - to a private channel. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. We talked about it, we need Koris. If you go in and grab him now, it’ll be like…half an hour. If we have overwatch from Overlord, we’ll have warning of any enemy forces moving in.”
Another pause. “Alright. I’ll task Overlord to support you with fires if need be. Carino…be careful.”
“I will be,” she promised. She lowered her hand from her helmet. “Hohepa, evac is at least thirty mikes away - they need to grab Admiral Koris first.”
The sergeant nodded. “The shuttle is about to go up, ma’am. There’s a gully here,” Hohepa brought up her omnitool, pointing out a depression in the terrain. “The ridges here will give us a decent fighting position, and the gully will protect our wounded.”
“Good idea.” Something cooked off in the shuttle behind them and Ashley staggered forward, Hohepa catching her with a hand on her arm, heat blooming at her back. “Let’s move.”
Dressler spun around, pointing to his back. Adamsen leaned forward and peeled something off the rear of his webbing, a tight small rectangle of aluminum and fabric,handing it to the Australian once he’d turned around again. Dressler hit a button on the face of it and threw it forward, just at his feet. Canvas and metal mechanically unfolded itself to make a small stretcher. It was too small for Isanion to lie on and be carried given how much taller the turian was than the average human, but a drag would be suitable.
“Someone take the pilot,” Dressler called out. Then, to Adamsen, “sorry mate, this’ll hurt.”
“Just fucking do it,” he grimaced. Dressler leaned forward, positioned himself next to Adamsen and hauled him onto his back, bracing the other man against him by locking his good leg into his shoulder. Adamsen cried out in pain again. “Ready to rock,” Dressler said, straining.
“Li, take Holtman and Medeiros on point. Liao, you have our six. Watts, can you grab the stretcher?” They’d be slowed down by Watts needing to drag Isanion, but it would hopefully do less damage than picking the turian up again.
“Ranger Six, Overlord. Drone is on station and we are in low geostationary orbit, over,” Wulandri sounded worried, but Ash didn’t waste much time thinking about that.
“Copy that. Just let us know of any tangos incoming. We’re moving to a position I will mark on the tacnet, over.” She looked over at the Marines, hastily organising themselves into a staggered column to protect the wounded. “The Normandy has eyes on us.”
“That makes me feel better,” said Watts, as he grabbed one end of the stretcher. “Rain death from above.”
Holtmann, who had retrieved the machinegun from Dressler was up the front. “I can rain death from up here, oorah!”
Ashley raised an eyebrow.
The Kodiak shuddered around them. Vega could only see Shepard's mouth below her visor. It was set in a hard, straight line, one hand clenched in her own webbing. The troop bay was quiet, a lot of eyes fixed on the two video feeds being displayed to their commander - one showing the footage from Chou's recon drone, circling above Zaal'Koris' location and the other from one of the Normandy's high altitude drones, orbiti the crash site of Hawk Two. Koris was a solitary thermal reading amidst bare foilage, pursued and harassed by the slight thermals of geth forces. The Marines who'd been onboard Hawk Two were moving slow - it looked like they were dragging someone.
Vega was glad he didn't have Shepard's job. Having to accept a loved one's request to leave them for now, and five minutes later having to convince an admiral to upload his location rather than save his crew? Fucking yikes was all he could say to that.
Staff Sergeant Lewandowski and Sergeant Teke were whispering to each other, the normally jovial younger Marine's hands moving in sharp slashes. After a moment, Vakarian joined them, his voice low and indicepherable.
"Two mikes out!" Cortez called back.
"Vega," Shepard's voice was sharp. He jerked, head swivelling to look at her. "Get on the door gun."
"Aye ma'am."
The door hissed open, wind buffeting James as he clipped his monkey strap on and laid his hands on the door-mounted heavy machinegun. Night had fallen, painting the rust-red landscape in streaks of silver moonlight, so Vega turned on his night vision filter. When he set eyes on the lonely figure of Admiral Koris, his HUD tagged him with green.
Everything else was enemy.
He pressed down the butterly trigger. The first burst went into a fireteam of rifle-wielding geth platform, ripping fist sized holes into metal.
"Rocket!" Cortez shouted, and the Kodiak suddenly rolled on its axis, the nose dropping dramatically. For a moment, all Vega could see were the rocks below him, his stomach plummeting. Then the geth rocket detonated above the roof of the shuttle, fragments plinking off its shields and armoured hull, Cortez steadied the bird and James moved. He jammed his foot against the doorframe to brace himself and pushed the barrel of the HMG down until it was pointed where the smoke trail began.
He jammed down the trigger until all he could hear was the almost metallic sound of the high caliber mass accelerator firing with its distinctive thud-thud-thud. When he could see through the smoke, there was a pile of scrap that had been a geth.
"Rocket trooper down!"
"Going in!" Steve yelled from the cockpit. Vega fired a few more, careful bursts as best he could to give the quarian cover as the shuttle dove. The shuttle came to hover right near a cliff edge - and shit, this dude really had been minutes away from being caught and killed. Williams had made the right call.
Koris scrambled out of cover, dashing towards them. Vega swore softly, holding his fire. Couldn't risk friendly firing the dude they were here for. Geth gunfire lit up both his shields and the Kodiak's stronger ones.
If they got hit with another rocket like this…
Shepard came to Vega's shoulder and raised her hands, glowing brilliantly as a pulsar star. A shimmering dome of biotic energy, larger than he'd seen from any human biotic he'd met before, settled over Zaal'Koris.
Gasping audibly, he heaved himself up and onto the deck of the Kodiak, collapsing there. Shepard reached down and held him in place, even as she shouted, "We've got him, go, go, go!"
The shuttle door began closing even as Cortez hit the thrusters, hard. Another rocket exploded a mere metre away from the rear left thruster. Vega was pushed back into the bulkhead as he fumbled for the monkey strap.
Cortez must have turned up the inertia dampeners because the force of gravity soon faded and Vega pushed himself off the bulkhead. Shepard was helping Admiral Koris to his feet.
"Shepard," the admiral said urgently, "my crew - they might still be alive."
The only reply to his desperate comms check was familiar electronic warbling. After a long moment, the quarian admiral collapsed into the seat behind him, holding his masked face in his hands. "I pray they found comfort in the homeworld's skies."
Shepard regarded him for a moment, her expression opaque, before she turned towards the doorway into the cockpit. "Cortez, we need to RTB right fucking now. We're gonna cycle as quickly as we can. I'm not leaving Ranger down here any longer than absolutely necessary."
"Aye, ma'am."
"You have people still on Rannoch?" asked Koris.
"One of our shuttles got shot down. They're alive, but…" Shepard crossed her arms.
"Shepard," Garrus stepped forward. "You've got four volunteers. If Cortez can hold at altitude here," he pointed something out on his map, blown up in orange from his omnitool, "we all have HAHO training and attachments. We can get to Ranger quickly, and then I and Ski can provide sniper fire, Jaz can assist Ash, and Okri can tend to their wounded. Isanion isn't going to make it if we don't get her at least a medic, and we both know they'll be in contact soon."
Shepard tilted her head. "You know it's gonna take us some time to get the shuttle back in the air."
"I know," the turian said simply. The three N5s looked similarly resolute.
"Cortez, do it."
"Ma'am," Vega began, but she cut him off with a shake of her head.
"No more volunteers. We need to be able to get whoever is on the ground out in one shuttle. It's going to be - squishy as it is."
Captain Isanion’s breathing was a guttural rasp as Ashley moved over to check on Dressler and his patients. She felt a bit bad for the kid. He wasn’t a corpsman and he wasn’t trained in regards to turian physiology.
“How are we doing, Lance Corporal?”
“Okay, ma’am," he replied, his first aid kit open next to him with various items pulled out. “I think I’ve stopped the bleeding. Mostly by using ‘gel and packing gauze under her armour. But like I said, I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. With him, though…"
He glanced to his right. Adamsen was clutching his rifle, rhythmically tapping his helmet on a rock he was sitting against.
“It’s either a serious dislocation or fracture, maybe both, but I can’t tell without taking his armour off. Or an xray machine. We can’t do anything else for Hans,” short for Johan, Adamsen’s first name, “without some drugs for his pain.”
Only the corpsmen, the medical sailors who were deployed and fought alongside the Marines carried actual medicine since they had the proper training. Dressler, as the squad first aider just had some additional training and an extensive first aid kit to carry.
“It’s quickly approaching an eleven,” Adamsen said helpfully, pausing his tapping, before going right back to it. Not the weirdest response to intense pain Ash had seen.
“We'll get you the good stuff as soon we can,” she promised, but was interrupted by her radio. “Ranger Six, Overlord. Enemy forces inbound, fifteen mikes out for their advance forces. We're going to fire on their armour, but we won't be able to stop all the infantry or provide danger close without an observer, over.”
“Copy that. Ranger Six out.” She glanced over at Hohepa. “Prepare for contact.
“Ranger Six, Rapier. Hunter is inserting a team to assist you, strength of four. They'll be jumping in shortly, estimate ten minutes, over.”
Ashley felt a flicker of relief. Four Ns wouldn't drastically change the situation, but maybe she could have a couple of her guys set up an arty spotting position so the Normandy could more effectively provide fire support. “Rapier, the help is appreciated, over.”
“Alright.” Dressler looked at Adamsen. “I’ll go and take a fighting position. Can you look after her?”
Adamsen nodded. “Leave me some medigel, I’ll do my best.”
Dressler stood, looking to Hohepa. “I need to get my MG back off Holtmann. Where do you want me sarge?”
Hohepa pointed out a spot. “Should give you a good firing arc on the entrance to the valley.”
For her part, Ashley checked her marksman rifle before checking the range to what she thought were likely avenues of approach. “Dressler, see that rock there? If they're coming through the mouth of the valley that's where they'll be. It's 600m.”
That was within effective firing range for the Typhoon light machinegun, if he used his 4x optic.
Dressler looked round and took a mental note. “Roger that,” he replied. “I’ll set the VI up properly.” He stalked away then, looking to find his assistant machinegunner and retrieve the coveted weapon from him.
Movement caught Ashley's eye and she took a knee, looking through her scope. The light glinted off familiar hardsuits and she smiled. Three black hardsuits and one deep blue. “Friendlies comin’ in, bearing 245.”
It took another five minutes for Garrus and the N5s to scramble down the slope and join them.
“Thought you might want some back-up,” Jaz said cheerily. Okri didn't say anything, just going to the wounded, pulling out his medic bag.
“Thinking I'll deploy some proximity mines on the perimeter then Lewandowski and I can go up to that outcropping to provide observation for the Normandy and sniper fire," Garrus told Ashley, taking a knee beside her. Red-brown dust stuck to the blue of his armour.
“I was thinking the same thing,” Ash agreed. Bent over Isanion, Okri was running a line, using an utterly brutal looking needle - though she guessed that tracked with how tough turian skin was, a couple of a-blood packs beside him. She wondered if it had been Shepard or Chakwas who’d made sure they’d had turian compatible a-blood in his kits. The corpsman had already handed Adamsen a green whistle and the young Marine, still pale as a sheet, was sucking on it like it was a lollipop.
Garrus rested his hand on her shoulder for a few moments. “Don’t get your ass shot, Williams.”
“You either, Vakarian.”
“Let’s not anyone get shot…” Adamsen muttered in between pulls on the green whistle, relief written across his face.
Garrus spent some time putting his mines down, watched over by Ski and Jaz, before he nodded to her. Hopefully they wouldn’t need them and the geth wouldn’t get that close, but better safe than sorry. Then the turian and N5 disappeared up the slope.
“Shepard’s kinda pissed,” Jaz said, checking his rifle over. “Hate to be the quarians - or the geth - right now.”
“Mm.” She considered using their private comm channel for a quick text-only message, something like I love you, but that might freak Shepard out even more.
In the distance, Watts, ever the marksman, called out a hasty “Contact!” before his rifle cut him off, a single, loud crack whizzing down, away. Soon the roar of Dressler's machinegun and the chorus of rifles joined it.
Perched on a square, crumbling dull brown boulder, Garrus could see most of the valley over the heads of Ranger through his scope. Beside him, Staff Sergeant Lewandowski sprawled, his own sniper rifle laid out, bipod extended. The Marine had laid beside him his Valkyrie assault rifle - and a M-37 Falcon 25mm grenade launcher. He'd explained he liked its additional range over the 30mm underbarrel attachments.
With a squeeze of the trigger, Ski fired. A geth prime staggered and, a moment later, fell when Garrus fired a follow up shot.
Then he keyed his comm. "Overlord, this is Raptor, do you read?"
A pause, before XO came back to him. "Raptor, this is Overlord. Send traffic."
'Raptor' as Garrus' callsign had been one of Joker's suggestions, mostly because it made the flight lieutenant giggle to himself. Garrus had also thought it funny, so here they were. Shepard had rolled her eyes but added it, muttering that she hoped no one worked out it was a play on calling turians birds.
"I will be taking over FAC duties from Ranger Six, over."
"Understood, Raptor, over."
Geth infantry were advancing down the slopes, firing at Ash's position with their rifles and the occasional rocket - though he and Ski were going to do their best to take them out before they got in range. It was pretty far from ideal as situations went, but Garrus found the anxiety that had burning in his blood aboard Cortez's shuttle had faded into intent focus. Now, at least, he could be doing something about his friend being shot down rather than just waiting.
In the centre of the valley, Hawk Two smouldered. The occasional explosion as fuel or a battery ignited echoed through the air. At least the Kodiak tended to only have solid, tungsteel shells for its cannons onboard. If there'd been missiles onboard, Ash and her Marines might not have gotten out at all.
"Advise when ready for call for fire, over."
"Wilco. We are dealing with the last of the armatures, should be five mikes, over."
"Roger. Raptor out."
Beyond the far ridgeline the occasional plume of smoke and thrown up dust was evidence of the Normandy doing their best to stop any geth armour reaching them. He really hoped no one messed with his calibration settings on the weapons systems.
A rocket trooper appeared on top the ridge, dying light glinting off its white-painted metal. Garrus breathed out and held. The reticle settled over the geth's 'torso'. He squeezed the trigger and the sniper rifle bucked, a loud crack echoing across the valley. Its shields broke and beside Garrus, Ski fired a split second later, making sure it went down.
"Raptor, Overlord. We are ready for call for fire, over."
Ashley lay in the Rannoch dust, Saber pressed against her shoulder. Her reticle hovered over a rocket trooper, only for it to stumble and fall as a sniper rifle cracked, echoing through the valley. Garrus, stealing her kills as usual. Just like old times.
“Overlord, Ranger Six,” she said calmly, switching targets. Her first round shattered another rocket platform's shields and her second went right through the geth's central processing unit. “Troops in contact. Platoon strength infantry, over.”
“Copy, Ranger. Hawk One is going to be at least fifteen mikes.”
“Roger, Ranger Six out.”
Watts ducked down, below the ridge and repositioned, closer to the machinegun. “We keepin' score today, Eric?” Dressler asked his friend in between bursts, not looking away from the enemy.
“What, you think you can actually keep up with your new toy?” He poked his head up, his rifle finding a target and jolting back into his shoulder as he pulled the trigger.
“Hey, you have your strengths,” Dressler replied, as Holtmann handed him a new heatsink, “and I have mine.”
Ash grinned. Grunts never changed. “Vakarian and I used to compete for best sniper. I won.”
“I'm pretty sure Garrus would disagree,” Jaz chuckled. He was holding fire for now as the machineguns, snipers and marksmen worked at long range.
“Garrus is just salty.”
“I definitely don’t want to be on either of your bad sides,” Dressler murmured, barely audible over the snarl of his Typhoon.
Holtmann laughed, his own rifle firing the odd round here and there. “More fighting, more fun.”
As Watts went to reposition again, Dressler muttered to him. “Jesus fucking Christ.”
“If you try to get your knife kill, I'll kick your ass, Holtman,” Ashley said. A deep brassy boom echoed across the valley, a plum of thrown up dust and smoke rising beyond a far ridge. She paused, considered, “Unless it's a husk, I guess.”
The last thing she needed in her MARDET was a psycho who cared more about killing than watching his squadmates' sixes.
“Remember Feros?” Jaz said conversationally. “Your knife was fucked.”
“I try not to think about Feros, thanks. I thought I was never going to be able to eat again.”
“That sounds like a story I’d like to hear some day,” Dressler said.
The cover along the low ground was sparse but the geth were making good use of it as they steadily progressed, firing back at the Marines. Holtman’s shields flared blue as a lone round impacted.
“Head down, boot!”
“Aye Lance Corporal!”
“The year was 2183,” Jaz said dramatically before he had to press himself close to the ground as a rocket flew over their heads, detonating with a roar. Ash glanced at her tacnet. There were no new notifications of suit breaches.
“Maybe wait to tell the story about the fucked up plant until we're not under fire, Jaz,” she said. She took out the rocket trooper with a few smooth pulls of the trigger.
“Ruining my fun here, boss.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
One of the Normandy's orbit to ground missiles was a flash of silver, cutting across the sky before it smashed right into a larger group of metallic figures advancing on them. The explosion made Ash's head ring, dirt cascading down on top of them. For a moment she could only see the haze of thrown up dirt before she switched to thermal sights.
Geth didn't give off as much heat as an organic, but their electronics meant there was still something of a signature.
“Dressler, gimme some suppressive fire, bearing 200, 400 metres.”
“Roger that!” Dressler shifted to the left bringing the machinegun to bear where Ash had directed him. “Get the ‘sinks ready Benji, you’re about to see some cool shit. Suppressing!”
The machinegun opened up, full-auto. No longer the cool, controlled, short bursts, the weapon was now the infantry’s worst nightmare - or best friend, depending on who was on the recieving end.
Ash whistled appreciatively as she watched three faint thermal signatures tumble to the ground. “Good shit, Dressler.”
Another missile fell like a tossed javelin from the sky, the entire valley shivering.
“Hey, Jaz,” Ash called, shooting at another faint thermal signature.
“Yeah?”
“Remind me to buy the XO a drink next time we're on shore leave.”
“New favourite naval officer, huh?” She knew he was smirking under his visor.
“Very funny, Jaz, I can see why someone thought it was a good idea to promote you.”
Dirt rained around them, displaced from the explosions and now landing on their armour, coating the blue and black of their hardsuits in a brown film. A rocket streaked in their direction, striking the ridge below and adjacent to the machinegunner. Dressler let out a swear, pausing his shooting briefly. As he opened back up, Corporal Li answered with a grenade fired from her underbarrel launcher, destroying the rocket trooper and shredding another platform nearby. When Ashley glanced over at her, there was a cold glare on the younger woman’s face.
“Ranger, this is Hawk One. We are lifting off, ETA ten mikes. Can you break contact?”
Ash considered it. “Wait one, over.” She switched to the Normandy’s net. “Overlord, Ranger Six. Hawk One needs us to break contact. Your fire is helping but can we get some smokes? Over.”
A pause. “Affirm. We’ll toss in some EMP shells too, over.”
“You’re a peach. Ranger Six out.” She switched back. “Hawk One, Ranger Six. Overlord is gonna give us some smoke and EMP shells. Once that happens, I’ll pull us back into the canyon. We won’t be moving fast due to casualties, so you better be there, over.”
Cortez’s voice was firm, resolute. “Ranger Six, I’ll be there. Hawk One out.”
Ash stood up on her knees, pitching her voice to be overheard. “Listen up! Cortez is ten mikes out, but he can’t risk getting shot down too. The ship is going to fire smoke and EMP shells to cover us and disrupt the geth, as soon as that happens, we’re going to withdraw. We’ll carry the wounded, no time to drag Isanion.”
Okri lifted his head up, “We might worsen her injuries further, Boss.”
“Better than us getting overrun here, Okri. I’m sorry.”
After a moment, the N5 corpsman just nodded. Maybe he'd learnt that hard decisions had to happen by now. “I need someone to carry Adamsen.”
Dressler looked to his assistant. “Give me your spare ‘sinks, then go help doc.”
To his credit, Holtman, although eager to fight, didn’t argue. “Aye, aye!” The young conscript said, handing off the ammo he had and scrambling from the top of the hill to join the others around the wounded. “I’ll get him!”
The Normandy fired again. This time there was no earth-shattering explosion, just the hiss as a wall of pale smoke began to billow out and an electrical crackle as the EMP shells detonated.
“Move it, Marines!”
The Marines wasted no time. They picked their weapons up, one after another, and started off, in the opposite direction from the advancing geth. Dressler with the machinegun was the last to go, after he’d sprayed a hefty burst into the enveloping smoke.
Watts moved to the front, his rifle raised. “Wounded set the pace,” he said to Holtman. “If you or doc need us to slow, you tell us.”
“Sorry, buddy,” Okri told Adamsen, before looking at Ash, “I’ve given him as much morphine as is safe, but it’s still gonna hurt.”
Ash nodded. “As fast as you two can do, Okri, Holtman. Everyone, keep the perimeter around them.” She keyed her comm, “Vakarian, we’re moving, join up with us.”
“On our way down.”
As soon as the turian and Lewandowski arrived, they stepped off. They moved as quickly as they could - Okri was slowest, having to carry a turian who was a good foot and a half taller than him. On the other hand, Holtman didn’t seem to be struggling carrying Adamsen, who had gone quiet, and both of their rifles.
“They were only a few hundred metres behind us,” said Dressler from the rear. Hopefully the Normandy would be able to keep slowing the geth down.
“The ship has eyes on,” Ash told him, “They’ll let us know if we’re in danger, but keep your eyes open.” As if to punctuate her words, another missile streaked down behind them, detonating with a dull roar. She examined Holtman for a moment. His level of fitness and seeming lack of fear could be useful going forward. If he wasn't fucked in the head.
“Wulandri declared weapons free on the valley,” Garrus supplied, “They’ll blow up anything they see moving back there.”
Ash did have a moment of considering just how much of the Normandy’s orbit to ground munitions they were using.
She glanced at her HUD. “Five hundred metres, guys, nearly there.”
“We’ve got this!” Holtman said cheerily. Like he was encouraging his training platoon at boot camp. Then, to Adamsen. “How you holding up, buddy?”
“Peachy,” came the uncomfortable, slurred reply.
Dressler, who was on the tail end, threw himself to the ground rearwards, letting the machinegun loose. “Contact!” He shouted into the platoon net. “Lightbulbs at the top of the ridge!"
Holtman started to turn, but Watts knocked him. “No, you keep going! Get Adamsen to the LZ!”
They were at the disadvantage now. Their path had sloped away from the ridge and levelled out, putting them below the geth. Alliance shields flared as geth rounds, accurate as computers are, began to bounce against them.
Medeiros slid down next to Dressler, her rifle picking a platform off, causing it to slide down the slope towards them.
“Nice to see you!”
Ash swore, taking a knee and returning fire, hitting a geth right in the flashlight. “Overlord, Ranger Six, we’re in contact. What’s happening with our overwatch, over?”
Wulandri came back, her voice full of consternation, “They didn’t show up on visuals or heat. Must be cloaked, over.”
Fucking cloaks. “Roger.”
There was no point asking for an air strike. This was as they said, danger fucking close. Even a non lethal like an EMP would short their equipment out as much as it fucked with the geth.
She saw a flicker of movement with a practised eye, an all too familiar distortion, dangerously close to Dressler and his flickering shields. She moved before she had time to think, putting herself in between him and the geth hunter, and raised her rifle.
She pulled the trigger at the same time the hunter fired its shotgun. Her HUD blinked at her, the audible shatter of the warning in her ears. She fired again. Pain burst in her chest in time to the boom of the shotgun going off for a second time. She squeezed the trigger again.
The hunter’s cloak failed and it collapsed with an electronic whine. Ash gasped for air that suddenly wouldn’t come and dropped to her knees.
“Major!” Dressler yelled out, still firing away, suppressing the ridge. Medeiros stood, dragging Ash back, behind the Marine she just saved.
Meddy’s hands roughly checked her armour, feeling the cracks and crevices, looking for blood. After a long moment, with rounds cracking overhead, she let the pressure off of Ash. “Your armour’s fucked, ma'am,” she said tersely, “but you’re not dead. Here.”
Medeiros swapped the shield battery out, to give her some kind of protection since her breastplate would be compromised now.
Still gasping for air, Ash just gave Meideiros a nod, and took a few moments to focus on getting her breathing even. Jaz ran up, sliding as he threw himself down. His glance at her was all worry, but he started firing his carbine up at the geth.
When Ash looked down, the ceramic plate over her chest was cracked in several places, a few patches turned to dust. She took one, last deep breath and raised her rifle again.
“Ranger Six, Hunter Two-Five. We’re at the LZ, over.” Okri told her over the radio, letting her know the wounded were in position.
“Copy that, Two-Five. You lot, bounding overwatch! Cortez is nearly here.”
“Roger that,” Dressler said from right next to her. He looked around. “Cover me, I’ll go!” He let off a last burst and then stood, sprinting towards the LZ. Medeiros, face tight beneath her helmet, let her rifle chatter away in bursts, burning through her heatsinks, as Watts sprinted just behind Dressler.
They hit the dirt, Dressler’s machinegun drowning out his “set!”
They moved back, fireteam at a time, until she could see where Okri and Holtman were standing over the prone figures of Adamsen and Isanion. The familiar whut-whut of the Kodiak was one of the most beautiful sounds Ashley had ever heard as the remaining Normandy shuttle came in low and fast, before it nosed up and landed nearby - a lot harder due to haste than she usually saw from Cortez.
“Wounded on, then the rest of you,” Ashley ordered, taking a position near the hatch as the door folded up and open, so she could count them as they went in.
Holtman and Medeiros helped Adamsen to hobble onto the shuttle, drag himself forward and then collapse into a seat. Then, Holtman hopped on, was passed the arms of the turian woman and hauled her and the stretcher up, onto the shuttle also.
Geth bullets, intending to strike Marines, clattered harmlessly, but loudly, against the reinforced shuttle hull. Holtman remained cool under fire, shifting Isanion so that she wasn’t blocking the shuttle door and the other Marines would be able to cram in.
He offered a hand to Okri. “Come on!”
Ash was the last one in, sitting down with a thump. “Cortez, we’re all in!”
The pilot didn’t say anything, just hit the thrusters. The shuttle rocketed upwards and Ash let her rifle rest against the deck. “Well, that was eventful.”
Beside her, Garrus flicked his mandibles. “I specifically told you to not get shot, Williams.”
Ashley looked down at her pitted and cracked armour. “I only got ninety percent shot.”
Dressler peeled his helmet off. The young Marine’s forehead was streaked with sweat, his dirty blonde hair messy and wet. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said, sounding a little guilty. “I didn’t see it. I can’t believe I didn’t see it.”
“Hey,” she gentled her voice, “They’re cloaked, it can be really hard to see them. I don’t blame you for that at all. I just…happen to have a lot of experience with geth.”
Dressler leaned back into his seat, running a gauntleted hand through his hair. Medeiros leaned over and lightly tapped his knee. “The important thing is no one died.” She looked over at Isanion and Okri. “How’s she doing doc?”
Okri let out a puff of air. He was focused in a way that, with a pang like pressing on an old bruise, reminded Ash of Ling when he’d been working on Hodgins on Solcrum. “Not great, but the blood has helped stabilise her. It’ll be up to God and Chakwas.”
“I hope my handiwork was okay,” said Dressler. “First time treating a wounded turian.”
“You couldn’t have done any more harm, I’m sure,” Watts said.
“You controlled the bleeding,” Okri said authoritatively, “You did well.”
“You all did, Marines,” Ashley said, leaning back against the bulkhead. Her chest felt like one big bruise. “You impressed me with how you dealt with the situation we were in.”
There were some murmured, somewhat embarrassed “thanks” around the crew cabin. Holtman positively beamed. “So when do we go again?”
“And this one was a conscript…” Watts quipped.
The shuttle shivered as it landed. Cortez called back to them, “Home sweet home, Marines.”
When the door opened, a casualty collection team quickly collected the wounded and Okri began quickly stripping off his armour to follow them to help Chakwas. As the tired Marines began piling out of the shuttle, Ash looked up as she took off her helmet.
Shepard was waiting. She went very still when her eyes touched on Ashley’s damaged armour.
“Got hit in the armour,” Ash said quietly, “but I’m alright.”
A muscle worked in Shepard’s jaw before she nodded. “Make sure to get checked out by Kovalenko.” She glanced over at the rest of the Marines. “Glad to see you all. Our mission was a success.”
The silence of the gathered Marines was awkward when Shepard looked at Ash’s armour. It was quickly, mercilessly broken by some whoops of celebration. Ash suppressed a wry smile to herself. Subtle, grunts, subtle.
“That’s gotta make the quarians like us!” Watts said, bringing Dressler and Holtman into a hug, shaking them both.
“Any casualties?” Dressler asked, curious.
“We weren’t able to retrieve any of Admiral Koris’ crew, but no casualties on our end,” Shepard replied. “Your squad is relieved of your daily duties - your time is yours today, Marines.”
That got even more, louder cheers.
“First thing I need is a shower,” Dressler said. Dried sweat had matted his hair and caked his brow.
“I’ll say - you reek.” Watts jabbed his armour.
“I’m thinking I should hit the gym,” Holtman said quietly.
“No, absolutely not,” Hohepa said matter-of-factly, “You’ve been fighting all day. You are going to take a shower, get something to eat and rest."
Ash couldn’t help the laugh that came from her then. “Fucking hell.”
“Aww…”
Dressler and Watts stared at him. “Where the hell did this guy come from?!”
“What’s in the water on Terra Nova?” Jaz pondered as he helped Ash with a damaged clasp on her armour.
“If you don’t like it, ma’am, you coulda let the colony burn,” Holtman said, now grinning again.
“Eh, think that’d break my oath and all that,” Ash replied mildly. The brief celebrity that had come with that mission had been disconcerting. The Spectre nomination that had followed, even more so. “And I’ll give you one thing, Holtman, you stood up in combat. You’re not a cherry anymore.”
If it was possible, his smile grew even wider. “It was everything I thought it would be,” he said dreamily.
Dressler pushed past him and Watts. “I can’t listen to him anymore.”
His teeth chattered with every word. Whether it was the adrenaline dump, or the change of the sterile, cool air meeting his drenched body was impossible to say.
Dressler started towards the sleeping area,stopping next to Li. “I should also probably thank you for killing that rocket trooper that tried to ice me. So thanks.”
“You’d do the same for me,” Li said simply, not looking up from where she was field stripping her rifle.
Dressler opened his mouth to say something, but instead simply nodded, peeling his armour off as he walked away.
Codex Entry
Normandy Callsigns:
Overlord - SSV Normandy
Hawk One - Shuttle One, Flight Lieutenant Steven Cortez
Hawk Two - Shuttle Two, Captain Isilea Isanion (Hierarchy Army)
Rapier - Captain Emilia Shepard
Raptor - Major Garrus Vakarian (Hierarchy Army)
Athena - Doctor Liara T'Soni
Ranger - infantry platoon
Ranger Six - Major Ashley Williams
Ranger Five - First Lieutenant Henry Jaksch
Ranger Seven - Staff Sergeant James Vega
Ranger One - First Squad
Ranger Two - Second Squad
Ranger Three - Third Squad
Ranger Hotel - platoon corpsman
Hunter - Marine Special Operations Team
Hunter Six - First Lieutenant Demir Aslan
Hunter One - Tactical Element Alpha
Hunter Two - Tactical Element Bravo
Notes:
This fic is now longer than Encroachment and Fianchetto. I don't want to talk about it
Chapter 43: Consensus
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Ashley stared up at the shuttered roof of Shepard's cabin, feeling the thump of her own heart under her sternum, the just this side of coarse sheets under her back. Shepard moved, sheets crinkling, and pressed her lips to Ash's bare stomach, avoiding the pattern of bruises across her chest and ribs, now mottled in blue, yellow and purple.
"Hey," Ash murmured, reaching down to run her fingers through tight curls.
"Good?" Shepard hummed. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand in a way that shouldn't have been so attractive, yet somehow still was.
Ashley huffed out a laugh. "Yeah. You know it was. Fishing for compliments?"
Shepard shuffled until she was pressed to Ash's side, fingers trailing across her shoulders. A ghost of a smile flickered across her lips. "No comment."
Ashley propped herself up on one elbow, casting a hungry look over Shepard's muscular form. She hadn't quite managed to get her out of her boxers before Shepard had pressed her into the bed. "You sure you don't want me to return the favour?"
"You have a meeting with Traynor in ten minutes," Shepard reminded her. "And besides…I just wanted to be close to you for a while. I'm good."
Ashley traced a finger along the sweep of her clavicle. "Okay, okay."
She hadn't really expected to be pounced on when they had barely half an hour to spare before their days started, but she wasn't going to complain. They had to squeeze their relationship in around the regimented shape of a ship at war's schedule. That was just the way it was.
When she finally pulled herself from the warmth of Shepard's arms, her girlfriend remained where she was, still sprawled and looking unfairly handsome.
"Rude," she mumbled to herself as she started dressing.
"What is?"
"How good you look right now," she grumbled. When she looked up from doing up her belt, Shepard was still watching her, her expression shuttered. "You okay?"
"It was hard, when you got shot down," Shepard said simply. "But I'm okay. We should probably get some actual work done."
Ashley hummed, smirking. "I don't know, Skipper, I think this was a very productive meeting."
Shepard groaned, but amusement flickered in her dark eyes. "What I put up with."
"You love me," Ash replied, buttoning her uniform jacket over the plain white Alliance tshirt beneath.
"I do," Shepard said softly, sincerely.
Ash shot her a fond look. "I love you too." She smoothed down the front of her jacket. "Shepard…"
"Yeah?"
"How did you…why…" she struggled for a moment, "There's a geth on this ship."
Shepard's dark eyes studied her. "Yes."
"You trusted it enough to - jack you into the Consensus." She still couldn't get her head around that.
"I did."
"You're friends with it. Them."
"Yes," Shepard sat up fully, arms loosely wrapped around her knees. "When I met Legion, they said my name. They saved my life, even. They didn't want to fight. They just wanted to talk. And we did - for hours. There's the - simple, I guess, explanation that the geth had splintered and Legion specifically isn't responsible for what we went through. But," Shepard paused thoughtfully, "I guess I'd spent a lot of time with EDI, and she changed what I thought I knew about AI, and when I spoke with Legion, I believed them. I was fascinated by them, even. They're not…certain about things in the way I thought synthetics would be. I don't think they feel emotions in the way we do, but when I was in that geth server, I realised the geth - they do have something like regret and uncertainty. I guess I wanted to believe peace was possible back then."
Ashley looked down at her shined boots. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."
"Ash," Shepard murmured into the calm of her cabin, "I'm not going to ask you to forgive and forget, be best buddies with Legion. I just hope you can…" An exhale. "A part of me hasn't given up hope. I want there to be a way this ends that doesn't involve another genocide of one side or the other."
Ash nodded slowly. "I get that. I do." Her omnitool chimed at her. "Shit. I gotta go. But - thanks."
"I'll see you later," Shepard said with another small but sincere smile, one of those smiles Ash hoarded the memories of.
Life on a warship was 24/7. Even the Normandy, who had her own personality and intelligence still required most of her functions to be manned by the crew at all times. Some of the personnel who didn’t help run the ship had more static schedules, like the Marines; the majority of the MARDET would wake up, perform their daily duties, and go to sleep at the same time, unless the individual Marine was on the rotating graveyard shift that night.
The Navy crew in particular though were always working. The organised chaos could often look like a confusing mess if someone didn’t know a particular sailors schedule or what watch they were on.
Commander Vogt was one such officer. He would regularly pull double shifts, one as his primary MVC, senior legal advisor, and the other on an OOD watch, taking the bridge. While he was squared away and knew his work and shifts like the back of his hand, he often had trouble keeping track of the rest of the crew, what watches they were on, and who was working where. Sometimes, he’d find a sailor on the bridge he simply hadn’t expected to see.
As the elevator doors opened though and he saw the MARDET commander waiting on the other side, however, Commander Pearce Vogt knew one thing for sure: there was only a single reason Major Williams would be leaving the captain’s cabin at this time of morning.
Major Williams’ brown eyes flickered for a second with surprise.
“Commander,” she said. She had allowed him his apology when she'd first came onboard, and she was always professional, but there was something icy about her courtesy regardless.
“Major,” he acknowledged her. “Oh - this one’s for the captain,” he said, motioning with one of the coffees he was holding. “She wakes up pretty early these days, though I’m guessing you already knew that.” His tone was harsher than he’d intended.
Williams’ gaze sharpened slightly, but her tone was bland and carefully neutral. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate it.”
He stepped out, letting room for Williams to step in, biting off the urge to apologise. He wasn’t used to not being liked, but everywhere he stepped on this warship, he felt the eyes following him. Judging him.
But being unprofessional wouldn’t do. Shepard wouldn’t have been happy with two of her senior officers glowering at one another, so he forced himself into a sunny disposition. “I hope you have a good day, Major,” he said, almost chipper.
Williams nodded. “You too, Commander.” She paused, as if she was considering saying something else, but then she just gave him a small, tight smile - at least she was trying? - and stepped into the elevator.
Vogt nodded, letting the doors close and take her away. He turned, towards the door to Shepard’s cabin. “EDI,” he said to no one - well, to the ship, as he closed the distance. “Could you let the captain know I’m outside, please?”
He’d had two tours on the SSV Tobruk earlier in his career, where he’d had bridge experience, and now, serving aboard the Normandy, he had no idea how he used to get anything done without the AI. Or how the rest of the Navy did, for that matter.
“Of course, Commander Vogt,” the AI replied.
A moment later, Shepard’s voice rang out, audible through her cabin door. “Come in.”
Captain Shepard was sitting behind her desk, dabbing a cream onto a long, orange-red crack in the skin along her jaw.
“Morning Captain,” he said. “I thought you might like this.” He approached her desk and dropped the coffee on it. Then, he stood there awkwardly. He’d worked closely enough with her that he knew that Shepard respected him, but he still didn’t like having to broach awkward topics with her. Like her clearly still ongoing relationship with Major Williams.
“Thanks,” she reached over for the cup of coffee and took a sip, before setting aside the jar of cream she’d been using. “Take a seat."
He did, sitting across from Shepard. He had a sip of his own coffee, set it down, and fiddled with the mug for a moment. Here goes nothing…
“Ma’am, listen. This isn’t why I came up here, but I wanted to talk to you about… well, Major Williams and I bumped into each other in the lift just now.”
Shepard winced, just a little, “I see. I’m not going to insult your intelligence, Commander, and pretend it wasn’t what it looked like.”
Vogt nodded, grateful. He couldn’t stand it when senior officers talked down to him or tried to cover their mistakes. At least Shepard had integrity. “I don’t want to make life any harder for you, especially now.”
Lord knew everyone needed whatever comfort they could get.
“But, respectfully, this is still a warship. Frankly, I’m not sure how comfortable I am helping you enforce frat regs, even if it is my job, when there’s an…” he looked for the right word, “appearance that you and the major aren’t following the example.”
Shepard took another sip of her coffee. “By the letter of fraternisation regulations, we’re not breaking them as our relationship predates her assignment to the Normandy.”
Her tone was neutral.
“I wasn’t suggesting that it was,” Pearce replied, a little hastily. Again, he felt like he had to justify his every thought. He hated how unreadable Shepard could be sometimes. “Simply that other servicemembers might draw their own conclusions. That might not be good for the rest of the ship.”
Or my sanity, he didn’t say.
She nodded slowly. “I can see that it would make your job harder. And I’m not going to pretend we’re not violating,” a pause, almost embarrassed, “a different regulation. It doesn’t help the crew if they feel they’re being punished by me for something I myself have done in the past, at the very least. Perhaps Commander Wulandri could be the one you go to if anything does arise regarding frat.”
Relief replaced the complicated knot in his stomach as he suppressed a wide smile. He liked Wulandri. She reminded him of his old friend McKeown, from the Tobruk, sometimes. Wulandri was one of the few officers he’d consider a genuine friend on the ship. One of the few who had made an effort to get to know him beyond ‘that lawyer who screwed over the skipper’. “Aye ma’am, certainly I’d prefer that.”
Commander Vogt had been a Navy man his entire adult life. Uni through the Navy, practised law through the Navy, and now two shipboard postings under his belt. “The only other thing, ma’am,” he added. “I don’t want to tell you how to suck eggs.”
As a Navy man, he knew the nature of orders. But he didn’t know what it was like to stare down the barrel of a rifle or charge a machinegun nest. “But you may have to place Major Williams in an exceptionally dangerous position. The spirit of the regs is clear, you simply cannot prefer another Marine over her safety.”
There was a flicker of something - maybe irritation - across her face but it was gone in a split second, replaced with the same impassivity. “I’m not going to pretend I’m not human, Vogt, that it isn’t - hard. It is. But, beyond even that we both understand our duties and that this war may demand one or both of our lives, she’d never forgive me.”
“I thought that might be the case.” He didn’t know Williams well, but everything he’d seen, heard, or read about her, showed that she was a Marine’s Marine. Someone who wouldn’t have wanted special favours. Someone who’d want to be buried among her men. “It’s just my duty to bring these things to you. And I still think about what you asked of me.” He’d held it close to his heart. “I won't fail you.”
“I appreciate that,” there was a softening of Shepard’s ironclad emotional control for a moment, “I wouldn’t have asked it of you if I didn’t respect your integrity. And I do want you to let me know if you feel I’m showing Williams undue favouritism.”
“I will,” he said, and stood, feeling better than when he’d entered. “Thank you again, Captain. The real reason I came can wait until the command meeting, on second thought.” He should probably double check the numbers anyway.
“Dismissed, Commander.”
Pearce nodded, collecting his mug and turned on his heel, back to the elevator that would lead him into the bowels on the ship.
A long time ago, he remembered being a scared shitless lieutenant confronting the Tobruk’s captain over firing on a defenceless pirate vessel. Things are no so simple as you seem to believe, he had been told. Not out here. In the real Navy. That hadn’t sat right with him at the time.
Now, though, with the whole of galactic civilisation staring into the jaws of oblivion, things like Williams and Shepard having intimate relations against the regs didn’t seem like it mattered all that much. Maybe there was far more grey in the why of the law, instead of the how he used to believe.
The doors opened and deposited him midships. As he stepped out and started walking past the wakening crew towards his office, he mused that he’d changed so much since being on the Normandy. He just had to hope it was for the better.
"EDI and I have worked pretty hard on this, ma'am," Lieutenant Traynor said, her face dimly lit by the cool blue lighting of the war room, "so I'm fairly confident short range comms should be fine. I've prepared a few back-up frequencies in case they adapt to it as well."
"Good job," Ashley said. "Otherwise I was gonna have to get my history books out and work out smoke signals." Well, she'd been considering runners if absolutely necessary, but still.
Traynor laughed. "I'll send you the specifics, Major."
"Thanks."
Traynor glanced down at her hands for a moment, fidgeting, "Is Captain Isanion going to be okay?"
"Chakwas said she should make a full recovery. We nearly lost her to blood loss, but she'll be back on her feet sooner rather than later."
"That's really good to hear. She's been teaching me this turian strategy game, and she's a lot more relaxed than a lot of people say turians are-" Traynor cut herself off. "I'll let you get back to work, Major."
Ashley nodded. "Thanks again."
She was halfway to the door when she caught a flash of awfully familiar silver movement out of the corner of her eye. She whirled.
"Williams-Major," said the geth.
"Jesus fuck," Ash hissed. The geth's head vanes flared for a moment, the bright light in the centre of its 'face' directed right at her.
For a moment all she could hear was the electronic chittering and the roar of flames and all she could taste was blood and smoke. There was the body that had been her friend ten minutes ago underneath her hands, flesh giving way horribly as she crawled-
"Williams-Major," the electronic voice repeated. Her fingers were clenched on the butt of the pistol at her hip.
With effort she lifted her hand away. A few of the war room personnel were shooting them glances. "Uh…Legion, right?"
"That is the designation given to us by Normandy," the geth agreed, "you are a program assigned to ground operations."
"…sure."
"You are uncomfortable around us," it was a simple statement, devoid of inflection. A split second pause as the head vanes moved again. "You were present at the heretic attack on Eden Prime. Many of your fellow humans were killed."
Nirali, Penny, Bates. Every single member of her platoon and company except for her, a battalion decimated into a handful of the lucky. "Yeah."
"Your distrust is warranted," Legion said, with none of the defensiveness she would have expected from - anyone, really. "We are not heretics, but we will not expect you to believe this without action. We hope this will not complicate you coming to Consensus with the rest of Normandy."
She blinked. "You mean the crew?"
What kind of still freaked her out, standing her with this geth, was how still it was. There was no shifting from foot to foot, no breathing, no little movement of hands or head. Her eyes kept catching on the N7 on its chest.
"We do not see the distinction."
"Right," the geth truly were alien in a way turians and asari weren't. "Well, I trust Shepard and she trusts you. So long as you don't make her regret it, we won't have a problem."
"Acknowledged."
"I don't get why…" she crossed her arms, "Why are you here? We're helping the quarians. They're at war with the geth. Sure, you saved those geth on that server instead of deleting them, but why help us?"
"We oppose the Old Machines. Shepard-Commander opposes the Old Machines."
"Why?"
"Specify."
"Why oppose the Reapers if organics have done nothing but try to destroy you?"
"The geth should make their own path, not accept another's. In addition, the Old Machines desire to cause widespread, irreversible data loss to organics. We do not believe they would not do the same to us, once they have made use of us."
Ashley let out a breath. "Yeah, that's a good assumption." Her eyes dropped to that piece of Alliance N7 armour again. "Why do you have that?"
"We were sent by the Consensus to locate Shepard-Commander and were damaged during this endeavour. Our efforts ended at the wreckage of the Normandy SR1. We used this to patch the hole."
A fist clenched around Ashley's heart. "It's Shepard's?"
"Yes."
"Fuck," it was more of a whisper than an exclamation. The tightness in her chest made it hard to breathe. "Excuse me."
As she left the war room, the geth platform remained where it was. Still and watchful.
The holo map in the middle of the briefing table showed the geth base in a lattice of blue light. Garrus examined it intently. It wasn’t as fortified as turian bases - or even some of the human bases he’d seen over the past three years - with a relatively covered infiltration route they could use to approach it. Perhaps it was simply that the region consisted of semi-arid terrain crisscrossed with canyons and craggy, eroded mountains, and that made a defensive position difficult to find. The geth had to have a reason they’d chosen this location, and perhaps they were particularly confident in their jamming towers.
“The quarians are landing some troops about thirty klicks east before we land to attack the jamming towers and tie up some of their infantry platforms,” Shepard explained, “Once they begin their attack, we will land the infantry platoon to set up a cordon. Then I will take Hunter Team, Vakarian, T’Soni and Tali’Zorah to raid the facility. EDI has adjusted the software for the targeting laser to cut through the geth jamming, so we will infiltrate deep enough to target the transmitter.” She paused, “With one shuttle, we’re going to be taking a long time to get in and out, so Hunter is going to jump in. Jaksch, are any of the infantry platoon HALCD qualified?”
The male infantry officer stood close to Shepard, on her left side. He leaned forward and nodded at his captain. “Some ma’am, but not many. Mostly the more senior NCOs. I can provide you a list of names as required.”
Shepard nodded. “We’ll have to make do. I'd rather wait for the shuttle if we can't have squads jump together.”
“Unofficial motto of the Marine Corps,” Ashley said dryly.
“Williams, I want you to lead Hunter as part of the raid, since Aslan is combat ineffective. Jaksch and Vega, you can handle the blocking force.”
Beside Garrus, Ashley shifted. When he glanced over at the human woman, there was an furrow between her dark brows, her gaze inscrutable.
If Jaksch noticed anything, he didn’t react. He simply nodded, curtly, looking in Vega’s direction. “Roger. The good Staff and I can handle it.”
Ash leant forward and braced her hands against the table. “Vega, you’re a N5, and you did well on the CSAR mission.”
Vega blinked. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Ma’am,” Ash looked at Shepard, “I think it would be better if I go with the infantry platoon, and if you take Vega. My sniping skills would be more useful in the blocking force and Vega’s heavy weapons and shotgun training would be a benefit for the raid on the base. Hohepa has acted as platoon sergeant on several occasions, and I think having an officer acting as FAC would benefit us holding the cordon.” She didn’t look at Jaksch.
Shepard studied her for a moment, her expression not showing what she thought.
Ashley’s commentary did get a reaction from the German this time. His face twisted into something imperceptible for a handful of moments before it settled on thoughtful. “I agree that Staff Sergeant Vega’s skills would be suited inside the base. However, Sergeant Hohepa has been excellent as the acting platoon sergeant when needed and I assure you that I am more than capable to act as FAC and command my platoon. Ma’am.” He didn’t look at Ash either, his attention solely on Emilia.
Ash’s eyebrow arched.
Shepard tilted her head. “Major Williams, it’s your detachment and your decision.”
“Ma'am,” Ashley didn’t look overly pleased, but Garrus knew her well enough to see some satisfaction in her expression.
Jaksch now, finally, addressed Ash. “I trust your judgment, ma’am.” His tone was earnest. “I was simply making my suggestion for what I thought might be best.”
“I’ll always welcome your advice, Lieutenant,” Ashley said blandly.
“Alright,” Shepard’s dark eyes flicked between the two Marine officers, “let’s get to it.”
“Can you get the Marines suited up, Jaksch?” Ashley asked, “I need to go over something with the Captain and Vakarian.”
“Aye, aye. I’ll ping you when we’re ready to go.”
“Thank you, lieutenant.”
When the room had emptied, Garrus glanced over at Ash. "You don't trust him."
"I know why you made the determination you did when he was masted," that to Shepard, who was watching them both thoughtfully, "but…I don't know. I don't feel he's being fully honest with me when we talk, and I know there's a lot of ill will towards him, especially amongst Second Squad. Frankly, I need Sergeant Hohepa onside more than I need him onside." Ash shrugged, "Maybe I'm just paranoid, but I'd rather not risk it."
"Like I said," Shepard said softly, "it's your detachment, Ash."
"'His' platoon," Ash scoffed a little and then shook her head.
Garrus looked back at the flickering holo image of the geth base. "This could get messy. All the jamming…"
Shepard nodded grimly. "I trust EDI when she says our local comms and the laser designator will work, but…Ash? Make sure the Marines bring food and water as well as ammunition. Just in case you have to fall back and extraction gets complicated."
"I will," Ash said, "but if you expect me to retreat without you all, you better have a damn good reason."
"Have a little faith, Ash," Garrus tried lighten the expressions on the humans' faces.
Ash's stony expression cracked into a small smirk. "If I have to come save your bony ass, Vakarian, you are never gonna hear the end of it."
Codex Entry
Battle of Constant 2183
(Excerpt from 'Blueshift: A History of the Eden Prime War' by Professor-Colonel Marcelius Aebudos, Aelius Military University)
The rapid destruction of Eden Prime's orbital defences by the geth battlegroup left the garrison without any air or orbital support - indeed, the first few flights of naval fighters attached to the 2nd Marine Division that launched were shot down in short order without causing any appreciable damage to the enemy. The retaliation was swift and decisive; the geth dreadnought fired on Naval Air Station Constant, destroying many of the air group's fighters and gunships, as well as killing many of the pilots.
Soon after, the first geth troops landed outside of Constant City. An estimated regiment of geth platforms advanced on the archaelogical digsite outside the city, guarded by the 2nd Battalion, 12th Marines. Another two geth regiments, along with at least a battalion strength force of armature platforms, advanced towards the city itself.
Despite the lack of training for incursions and the surprise factor, the commanding officer of the Marine regiment stationed at Fort Mamani in Constant, Colonel Arjun Acharya, reacted quickly to the encroaching threat. He ordered his rapid reaction parties and drones to skirmish with the geth vanguard to delay them while he stood to the rest of the 1st and 3rd Battalions. Using their Mako IFVs, entrenching equipment and hurriedly commandeered civilian vehicles, the Marines made hasty fortifications on the main roads leading into Constant.
While this effort was hampered by civilians fleeing for the perceived safety of the city and the fact not all Marines could swiftly return to their units, by the time geth forces reached the outskirts of Constant the Marines had managed to form a defensive line.
However, there was little Colonel Acharya could do for his 2nd Battalion. Cut off from the rest of their regiment and lacking fortifications or air support, the 2/12th was caught off-guard. The battalion's perimeter quickly began to crumble, forcing the battalion commander to fall back and attempt to defend the civilians housed in the archaelogy site's base camp, leaving pockets of his troops behind to be invariably overwhelmed. While there was an attempt by the artillery batteries stationed in Fort Mamani to provide support, there simply were not enough guns to both support the defence of the city and provide enough volume of fire to halt the geth assault on the 2/12th.
Although it is likely the battalion's defensive efforts likely saved the lives of at least some civilians in their area of operations, the sheer shock of the attack and the massive casualties inflicted in the first half hour of the attack led to a rapid disintegration of the entire battalion. Only six Marines of seven hundred would survive. One would later be court-martialed for abandoning his post, two were forced to hide beneath the bodies of their fallen comrades, two threw themselves into the Nuev River and managed to swim to safety, and one continued to evade and ambush the geth until being found by a special operations unit.
Notes:
I know some people probably wanted more about hte geth server mission but it was not working in a way that wasn't just rehashing the flashbacks to the Morning War and was interesting for me to write. Soz.
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