Dark Messiah

1. Fallen Hero

The Normandy's medbay was silent, the air heavy, reverent, as if the universe understood the loss it had suffered and was holding its breath in mourning. No matter how hard he tried, Captain David Anderson just couldn't pull his gaze away from the pale, still face of John Shepard. It was bad enough that humanity had lost one of its greatest heroes; Anderson had also lost one of his closest friends.

He heard the door open, heard two pairs of footsteps approach, but still couldn't bring himself to look away. Shepard was dead. The young man Anderson had trained and tutored was lying cold and lifeless on the bed. Never again would that face be creased up into a smile. Never would Shepard's throaty laugh fill the air, inviting others to join in his merriment. Never more would he call out orders to his crew, confident despite his relative youth and inexperience with ship command. As Anderson sat there, staring into the face of death, a single thought fluttered across his mind.

It should have been me.

"It happened in the early hours of the morning." Udina's voice broke the silence, his tone carrying only the minimum amount of respect. Anderson wanted to punch him for it, but the thought of John's rebuking expression held him back. Shepard wouldn't want his old friend to lose his command for the sake of physical gratification.

"How many people know?" Hackett sounded old, and tired. Anderson finally found a reason to move. He stood and turned, offering his senior officer a salute. But Hackett didn't see it; his eyes, too, were drawn to Shepard's face. Had he been hoping this was all a joke? That there had been a mis-communication? That Shepard would jump up from the bed and shout, "psych!"

"The three of us, and the crew of the Normandy," said Udina.

"What went wrong out there, Captain?"

Anderson cleared his throat. Even in the midst of his grief, he'd been preparing for this. One couldn't lose humanity's newest Spectre barely a week into his first mission and expect there to be no questions.

"Shepard and his team were investigating reports of geth activity on Noveria," he said by rote, the speech already etched into his mind. He spoke with the professional detachment all good soldiers learnt to foster in order to get them through difficult times. "From the mission report I've read, it looks like the corrupt Noverian administrator was preventing Shepard from taking his team to a distant research facility, so Shepard was trying to find some dirt on the administrator, give Noveria's internal security personnel a chance to bring him down and re-open Shepard's investigation. There was a firefight—"

"Of course," said Udina, in a catty tone of voice.

Anderson pulled his right hand into a fist, but focused on Hackett's age-lined face and continued his report.

"A security guard working for the corrupt administrator found a way behind Shepard's team and shot the Commander in the back of the head. His team were forced to withdraw, and only just managed to get him out without further casualties. Doctor Chakwas did her best, but his injuries were too severe. He was comatose for the entire journey back to the Citadel, and passed away several hours ago as a result of his injuries."

Hackett stepped forward, approaching the bed where Shepard lay cold and dead. For several moment he did nothing but watch, and when his hand finally rose it was to pull the white blanket shrouding Shepard up over his pale lifeless face. Anderson felt it like a hammer-blow to the heart. Shepard wasn't just dead; he was gone. Gone forever and never, ever coming back.

"You've… ah… you've had time to review my proposal, Admiral Hackett?" asked Udina. The ambassador suddenly looked a lot more shifty than usual.

"I have."

"And have you come to a decision?"

"What proposal is this?" asked Anderson.

"Humanity still needs a Spectre, Captain."

Anderson shook his head. "The Council will never agree to another Spectre. Shepard was a special case; they gave him the title as a means of satisfying us and of hunting down Saren without committing resources of their own. If they instate another human Spectre, there will be outrage."

"I'm not suggesting another Spectre."

"Then what?" Political bullshit double-speak; Udina was a master of it.

"Whilst reviewing Shepard's file prior to his Spectre candidacy, I read that he had a brother. A twin brother."

Immediately, Anderson saw where this was going. He felt the frown creep across his face as he stepped up to Udina, confronting the man in his own personal space. To his credit, Udina didn't back down. Bravery, or stupidity?

"James Shepard is a mentally unstable murderer. If you try and bring him into the Spectres you will be committing political suicide. I can't believe you're even suggesting it!"

"I'm not suggesting we throw him a parade and march him down the Presidium to a fanfare of trumpets," Udina shot back. "But the two men are identical twins. How hard could it be to pass off one as the other?"

"I don't think you understand how dangerous this man is."

"Oh, I understand perfectly," said Udina. "I've read the long list of crimes which resulted in his incarceration. But he's been locked away for six years. He'd be a fool to pass over the offer of a second chance. By carefully controlling him—"

"I don't 'control' a man like James Shepard," Anderson interrupted. Mad. The ambassador was completely mad. "You muzzle him like a rabid dog and put him somewhere where he can't infect others with his madness."

"You sound like you know him well," Hackett said, the first words he'd spoken during the entire exchange.

Anderson sighed, nodded. "I met the Shepard brothers when they were fresh out of the academy, and it was immediately obvious that physical appearance was the only thing they shared. John was a model soldier; honest, loyal, hard-working. James, on the other hand, was a rebel. He came out of basic training with a dozen disciplinary actions already on his record. For James, rules existed for one purpose; to be pushed to their breaking point."

"Come now, Anderson," said Udina. "John Shepard was no choir-boy. He broke several rules during his three day stay on the Citadel, prior to being given command of the Normandy."

"You know as well as I do that those situations were largely outside of his control!" Anderson felt his blood heating, fought for calm. Only a cretin like Udina would speak ill of the dead with the body lying just paces away. "James Shepard not only embraces trouble, he goes actively looking for it. I guarantee, if you put James in a position of authority, you'll be lucky if you live to regret it."

"You seem to be under the impression that your opinion actually counts for anything, Captain. It is not your decision to—"

"Gentleman." Hackett's voice, firm and commanding, halted Udina in his tracks. Anderson turned to face his superior. The Admiral had finished paying his respects to Shepard, and his eyes were once more harsh and business-like. "Under normal circumstances, I would agree with Captain Anderson. By all accounts, James Shepard is exactly where he belongs. But these aren't normal circumstances. There's an old axiom which I believe applies to this situation; desperate times call for desperate measures. If these aren't desperate times, then I don't know what qualifies."

"But sir, to give a criminal his freedom, and a position of authority, simply because he has the same appearance as another man… it undermines the entire justice system. Besides, if anybody's due for promotion, it's Alenko."

"Unfortunately, Lieutenant Alenko looks nothing like the late Commander Shepard," said Udina. "Besides, nobody's suggesting a promotion. We need James Shepard as a figurehead. Nothing more, nothing less. We'll be the ones giving the orders, and as far as the rest of the galaxy's concerned, Shepard's still a hero."

"This is a colossally bad idea," Anderson said, though he knew his warning fell on deaf ears. The decision had been made even before Hackett had arrived at the Citadel. All Anderson could do now was try to minimise the damage, and hope that this decision wasn't a death-sentence for humanity.

o - o - o - o - o

"Hey L.T., mind if I join you?"

Kaidan looked up from his seat at the mess hall table. Williams was hovering beside him, a tray of food clasped in her hands. He wanted to tell her to go away, to leave him alone, to eat at one of the other tables, but the memory of Shepard held him back. Shepard had always made time for his crew. Never turned anybody away, even when he wanted to be alone. Kaidan had only known the man for two weeks, but the two had become such firm friends and so quickly that Shepard felt more like a brother than a commanding officer.

"Sure. Pull up a seat," he said.

"Thanks." She slipped onto the chair opposite him and began tucking into her bacon and eggs. Kaidan's own food was untouched and half-cold on his plate, his appetite complete non-existent.

"Heard you've got a meeting with the-powers-that-be after lunch," said Williams. She cast him a sideways glance, and Kaidan snorted. She was terrible at subtlety. "Any idea what it's about?"

"None."

The request had come directly from Admiral Hackett; he'd arrived a little over an hour ago, to view the body.

Kaidan mentally kicked himself. The body. Was that how he thought of Shepard, now? As some inanimate thing? A shell no more real or alive than those husks he'd fought on Eden Prime? Shepard was gone, yes, but his memory lived on for as long as even one person remembered him as he was; vibrant, courageous, selfless…

"L.T.? Earth to L.T., come in Lieutenant Alenko!"

He blinked, realised Williams was waving her fork, still holding a piece of bacon, in his face. Judging by her expression she'd asked him a question which he'd completely failed to hear and was now waiting for an answer.

"Sorry, what?"

"I said word amongst the crew is that Hackett's going to promote you to the Normandy's new captain."

Him? Captain? The idea was absurd. Foolish. How could he possibly fill the John Shepard-sized hole that had been left? Shaking his head, he said, "Doubtful. If anything, they're more likely to give command back to Anderson. He has the knowledge and experience."

"So how come TPTB have asked for a meeting with you."

Kaidan shifted on his chair, his stomach curdling uneasily. A command posting was something he'd dreamt of… but he knew, in his heart, that he wasn't ready. He didn't possess Shepard's flair for creative thinking. He needed more experience before he would feel comfortable commanding men. Especially if it meant ordering them to die.

"Excuse me, Chief. I better get going to that meeting."

He didn't wait for her to offer a salute or even a goodbye, merely abandoned his food and strode out of the mess hall as fast as his feet would carry him. In fact, his feet very nearly carried him straight into Wrex; the krogan didn't even bat an eyelid as Kaidan stepped back. Wrex had signed up at Shepard's urging, and seemed to genuinely respect the commander. What would he do, now that Shepard was dead? Would he stick around for revenge against Saren, or would he jump ship as soon as the lock-down was lifted?

"Alenko," Wrex greeted him. Bringing both hands in front of him, he cracked his knuckles, the sound grating down Kaidan's spine. "On Tuchanka, when someone shoots your friend in the head, you show him how you feel by shooting three of his friends in the head. And then shooting him, too. All this sitting around is making me edgy. When are we gonna head back to Noveria? There's an ERCS guard's head with my rifle's name on it."

"I'm sure we'll be leaving soon," he assured the towering alien. "I've got a meeting with Captain Anderson and Admiral Hackett; chances are they'll be giving us new orders."

"Good. 'Cos if I'm feeling edgy, the rest of the crew's gotta be feeling it too. And an edgy crew makes mistakes."

"I'll let you know as soon as I hear something. Excuse me, but I don't want to be late for my meeting."

He edged around the krogan and jogged up the stairs to the CIC. There, Pressly was keeping an eye on things, ensuring nobody tried to break the communications black-out, and generally making himself available for any of the crew who needed to talk. The old man's face was dour; doubtless he hadn't expected to lose a CO so soon into their first mission.

When Kaidan reached the comm room, he pressed the door chime and was admitted immediately. Captain Anderson and Admiral Hackett, straight-backed and business-like in their uniforms, were seated on either side of Ambassador Udina. So, this was what it meant, to feel like 'a rabbit in the headlights.'

"Sirs," said Kaidan, saluting and fixing his eyes on a position on the far wall.

"At ease, Lieutenant," said Hackett. He waited for Kaidan to settle himself into a more comfortable stance, then launched straight into the reason for the meeting. "As you're aware, the Normandy is now without a commanding officer."

"Yes, sir." Way to state the blatantly obvious, sir, he thought bitterly.

"We have a plan to allow the Normandy to continue with its original mission, but your assistance will be vital. I could order you to go along with our plan, but to be perfectly honest, it doesn't sit right with me." Kaidan tried not to fidget, but Hackett sounded so unsure that it was difficult not to feel his unease. "In order for our plan to work, there will have to be some amount of deception employed."

"If you don't mind me asking, sir," he spoke up, "who will we be deceiving?"

"Everyone," said Udina. "The Alliance. The Council. Humanity. The entire galaxy."

"I… I don't understand, Ambassador."

"It's like this," said Anderson, in a no-nonsense tone, "Commander Shepard has an identical twin brother. His name's James Shepard, and he served in the military for a while. Since he and John share the same DNA, we can bring him in without anybody being any the wiser."

"But… the Citadel's scanners…"

"Citadel ID scanners are DNA-based," said Udina. "And only a few places on Earth still use finger-printing technology. But we'll have the print sets swapped to allow James access to anything he needs."

"Where do I fit into these plans?" he asked. This sounded like madness. These three men were some of the most respected humans in the galaxy. To hear them suggesting such duplicity, such dishonesty… he was certain John wouldn't have approved.

"That's where things start to get a little complicated," said Hackett. "You see, James Shepard is currently serving a life sentence. To have that sentence commuted, we're going to have to pay a large fee to free him. And even when he's free, he might not want to play ball. He won't like being under the watchful eye of the military, and he's likely to try to escape. We need a capable man to police him; to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid or controversial, and to make sure he stays put. In short, we need you, Lieutenant."

"There is also the matter of command decisions," Udina said before Kaidan could even open his mouth to speak. "Of course, Captain Anderson will be prompting James Shepard along the correct course, to ensure he finds Saren and deals with him appropriately, but the Captain can't be seen to be ordering humanity's newest Spectre around; it will appear to the Council that Shepard is still an Alliance puppet, and will undermine his authority on missions. The Captain can relay orders to you, and you can ensure they are carried out."

"With all due respect, Ambassador," Kaidan said before any more curve balls could be thrown his way, "but that won't work in reality. When you're on a mission, you have to be able to make snap decisions. You can't be waiting on a superior officer who might be lightyears away and only contactable through a comm-buoy, to authorise every decision you make. Without autonomy, our mission is sure to fail."

"We're not suggesting that Captain Anderson dictate the minutiae of every single ground-mission," Admiral Hackett clarified. "He'll give advice and orders about the overall progression during your search for Saren, but the particulars will be left to you."

Kaidan found himself dumb-struck. The overwhelming weight of the situation must have showed on his face, because Anderson stood up and approached him, placing a calloused hand on his shoulder. Yet more weight that Kaidan didn't need to bear.

"We can't trust James Shepard to make those decisions," Anderson said. "I'll not lie to you; the man's a danger and a potential liability. But we need his face. We need people to see humanity's first Spectre. We need him to do interviews and photo ops and we need to show the rest of the galaxy that human Spectres can last for longer than one goddamn week. I know this is a lot to put on you, Alenko, and I know you have problems of your own… we'll do everything we can to help. But when it comes down to it, we need you for two reasons. Not only are you one of the few with the strength and ability to keep James Shepard under control, but you're also one of the few who'll be able to stop him if he goes over the edge."

"Plus, the crew of the Normandy respects you," said Udina. "If you and Pressly throw your support behind James, the rest will follow."

We're not sheep, Kaidan thought. The crew have their own minds.

"It's your choice, Kaidan," said Anderson. "You know I wouldn't be asking you to do this unless I thought it was important, and although we could order you to go along with this plan, that's not how we want to do this. We need your support. Voluntarily."

"And if I decide this is a plan I can't support?" he asked.

Udina scowled. "Then we'll find someone else who can control James Shepard, and find you a new posting!"

"We'll do no such thing," Hackett countermanded immediately. "You have no authority to redeploy soldiers, Ambassador. I would caution you against forgetting your place." Udina huffed and puffed as he tried to come up with a response, but Hackett simply continued over him. "If you don't want to do this, Alenko, then we know of other people who will. But you won't lose your posting, nor will you lose our respect. It takes a brave man to stand up for his principles, and I know that John would be proud of you."

Kaidan looked first to Hackett, to the man's leather-skinned face, and troubled grey eyes. The most respected Admiral in the fleet. The man everybody wanted to serve beneath. A commander with wisdom to match his experience. Admiral Hackett wouldn't make a hasty decision like this; he'd do what was best for humanity, even at the cost of his own integrity.

Beside him, Udina was still looking sulky, but there was a fierce flame burning in his eyes that made Kaidan feel uncomfortable. The man was practically a zealot when it came to getting equal rights for humans. Earth owed him a lot, but he was always looking for more. He wouldn't think twice about putting a dangerous criminal up on a pedestal, just to prove a point to the Council.

Anderson's hand on Kaidan's shoulder was no longer an unwelcome weight; instead there was a calm, familiarity about it. The Captain's brown eyes observed Kaidan closely, but there was no anger in them, no desire, no sense of urging him towards one decision or another. Anderson meant every word he had said, of that Kaidan was sure.

What was it they said about the road to hell?

"Alright," he said at last. "I'll do it."

James Shepard. John Shepard's identical twin. What would he be like? How much would he have in common with the Normandy's former CO? And more importantly, what had he done to deserve life imprisonment?

"Excellent!" said Udina, the scowl replaced by a mask of calm neutrality now that the situation was going his way. "I will make the arrangements for James Shepard's release immediately. I'm sure, Captain, you'll have no problem convincing him of the wisdom of this path."

"You don't even have the guy's consent to this?" Kaidan asked.

"Not yet," said Anderson. "But we will."

"Lieutenant," Hackett spoke up, "as soon as the Ambassador has disembarked, please convey a message to the pilot. Tell him to get the ship aweigh, and set a course for the nearest relay."

Kaidan saluted, on firmer ground now that the orders were being issued with authority. "Yes, sir. Where should I tell Joker to head to?"

A smile tugged at the corners of the Admiral's mouth, but it was grim, and there was no humour in it.

"We're going to Purgatory."