A Day to Remember
Gliding silently through the inky black void, only populated by a binary star system and a few uninhabitable worlds was the Eleventh Fleet. The fleet was a collection of ships from the Great War, the brass having decided it was far better to fold the remnants of the sixth, seventh and eighth into one cohesive fighting force. The fleet consisted of about fifty frigates, a couple dozen cruisers, and the Orizaba. The dreadnought Orizaba had served the Systems Alliance well over the years, her massive broadside cannons albeit unconventional, had proved themselves quite effective. While normally out fighting countless threats that had emerged since the collapse of the Citadel Council, this was just an exercise and no officers would be writing letters to any proud parents today.
"Navigation, relay orders to the fleet. Bearing zero nine five, up then. Simulate crossing the T," the older woman giving the orders sat calmly in her chair. Her blue eyes and wrinkles along the edges showed her age, as could be the same for her brunette hair that was now streaked with gray, tied back in a regulation ponytail.
"Understood, Admiral." The order was followed with precision, the admiral adjusting slightly in her seat as the massive vessel turned, the momentum dampers a little sluggish in response.
"I want full simulated broadside, then send in the frigates for a run. At that point, I want all capital ships to engage a course reversal and broadside on the opposite side when we come about," the admiral in her pressed uniform and calm voice carried with it an authority that gave her crew the confidence to do anything in even the most hopeless of situations. While these orders were given, she was studying the data in front of her and evaluating every ship in her fleet.
"Well done," the admiral rose from her seat when the exercise was finished. "Warren, you have the helm. Send a message to the captains of the Bunker Hill, Lepanto and Coral Sea. They were a little out of formation and I want them to run their drills and get back up to fleet standards."
"Yes ma'am," the younger officer saluted as he spoke. "Note in the ship's log that Captain Nelson is assuming command from Rear Admiral Shepard."
The woman gave the man a return salute before stepping away from her station and towards the door that would take her back to her quarters. Normally she would make those calls herself, but she was grooming Warren to take over. Eventually you must rest from war, Hannah. Those were the last words her husband spoke before he was sent out for his last patrol, he was to guard a science team that was activating a Mass Relay near the colony of Shanxi. On that day, everything changed and her life took on a course she had not expected.
These thoughts occupied her mind as she walked down the corridors towards her quarters, returning salutes out of habit more than conscious thought as she had spent almost twice as long in the navy than she had in civilian life. That was expected, she was a von Essling and she was married to a Shepard, they had a long tradition of military service that went back centuries. Growing up, it was never a question of whether or not she would serve, but rather what branch of the military that she would serve in.
Hannah stood in front of the door to her quarters, pausing for a moment as she remembered what day it was. Mother's Day. She used to love this day, but now it was not a day to look forward to, but a day of remembrance. She raised a hand slowly to the sensor, the haptic interface read her DNA and the door opened with a hiss. Before her was a very simple room with very few indications that someone lived here, at the far end of the room was a double bed which was the perk at being the ship's CO and beside the bed was a small night stand that stood a small hinged frame on one side contained a set of burnt dog tags and a Star of Terra. Beside it was an image of a much younger version of herself standing beside a fresh-faced kid with equally fresh Private insignias.
Much of the rest of the room was pretty much bare, there was a table with a set of chairs, only one of which had seen frequent use with the occasional visitor, a footlocker that contained her fresh set of clothes and her private reserves for a time like this which was stowed under a closet rod which hung her dress uniforms. Hannah's shoulders dropped slightly as she crossed the threshold of the door and a feeling of weariness crept into her body as she almost felt older just entering the room. She slowly unbuttoned her jacket and hung it from the spare coat hanger before opening up her footlocker and taking out the bottle of amber liquid along with a single tumbler. Setting both on the table, she walked over to her desk where she picked up a small device, setting it down beside the bottle.
Taking a seat, she activated the device which turned out to be a holo projector, the device then began to play stills through her life and each image was of herself and her son from the time that he was an infant until the day that he received his N7 designation. The slide show stopped on that image, she stood there with him, both in their uniform, his dress blues and her dress whites. They both had the same blue eyes and the same dark hair but her son was much larger than herself, a natural marine. He had his father's square jaw, prominent nose, and intense look.
"To you John, the best son that a mother could ever hope for," Hannah said as she poured a glass of the scotch and downed it in a single gulp. She remembered that no matter what, he had always called her on Mother's Day. It did not matter where he was, or what he was doing, he somehow got a message to her to wish her a good day. That was what she missed about him the most, he had seen some of the worst that the galaxy had to offer and yet it did not change him. Now he was gone.
That was all she had left now. Messages. This room was a mausoleum, a preservation of the dead, much like her own life, she was merely a ghost an echo of the past. Now the projector had switched to audio and began playing message after message until it reached the last one.
"Hey mom. It's me, I wanted to call you as we're planning for the final push as I'm sure that Hackett has already informed you. I know you don't want to hear this, but I don't think I am going to be walking away from this one, so this is going to be my goodbye. I love you mom and I don't want you to hold onto me forever, you will have to let me go. I also want to tell you that I met someone, and I think you will like her, I told her to find you when she was ready. Please, when I am gone I want you to continue with your life, you can do it, you're so strong."
Hannah's gaze averted from the projector over at one other object on the table, it was her service pistol. With her right hand she took hold of the grip, looking over the weapon thoughtfully. How was she to continue when everything was gone? The answer was so simple, but she just could never bring herself to do it, she knew the political backlash on her family name would be hard to remove. Then there was the issue of what the fleet would do if they came under attack without her? She let out a bitter laugh when she realized that even contemplating her own end, her first concern was with duty.
The hiss of her door opening was hardly noticed as she knew full well who it was that had entered the room, the sound of his steady steps were verified with a colonel in marine uniform. The man had a seat opposite of Hannah, letting out a tired sigh as he looked over at her. "Figured I would find you here. You know if you're planning on playing Russian roulette, you need to use a revolver."
"Ernesto, this isn't a good time," Hannah said in a weary voice.
"Never is this time of year, you may have been able to fool the brass and even your own crew but we both know you're far from squared away," the man replied as he leaned back on the chair. Colonel Ernesto Zabaleta had proven himself during the war, it was a surprising change from the man who was once a stumbling drunk on the Citadel almost ten years ago.
"No, it is not."
"Now," Ernesto continued. "I know you're too stubborn and bull-headed to actually go see help, so the very least you're going to talk to this jarhead and former drunk. I know that million yard stare and the strain in your voice better than most. Those memories won't go away, but sitting here in the dark listening to old messages, drinking scotch and contemplating a bullet in your mouth won't change a damn thing."
Hannah let out an exasperated sigh, "I'm in no mood for whatever VA bullshit you were taught. So how about you get out of my quarters before I have you brought up on insubordination charges."
"You would never do that," Ernesto replied calmly.
"Oh and why is that?"
"Because you're a Shepard. No matter how pissed off you may be, there is no way you're going to take it out on me for no reason. So, I am going to sit here until you start talking. The same way your boy would not leave me alone till I confronted my problems, I won't leave you be until you start talking."
Hannah squeezed the bridge of her nose, "fate does have a strange sense of irony doesn't it? I remember when John told me about bumping into you in the wards. Now it would seem that there was more to helping you out than just one act of kindness."
"That's right," Ernesto had a bit of a reassuring smile, along with his brown eyes and dark hair that showed signs of grey but still in that boyish cut. It was disarming. "I don't know if there is some sort of being out there, but there sure seems to be karma."
"Everyone I have ever cared about I have lost in service to the Alliance. I don't blame them for their deaths, but they are still gone and every day I can see their faces and feel them. A constant reminder that I'm alone now."
"Hannah," Ernesto leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You may have lost your husband and your son, but there are others who care for you. Remember those talks we had on the Einstein before Mindoir? Your family is much bigger than you let on, and we care about what happens to you."
Hannah gave a nod, blinking quickly a couple of times as a tear rolled down her cheek, "I just miss them so much."
"Tell me about them." Ernesto knew this was the path to healing. It would take some time, but eventually his friend Hannah would see this day as a day to remember, but a day to celebrate and not to mourn.