I

Professional Development

The new lieutenant was pissing Shepard off. At twenty-two years old, she'd done damn well for herself in the four years she'd been in the Alliance. A shiny new Gunnery Chief stripe on her uniform, and she hadn't bought the rank like a lot of the sissy family military career men on board the cruiser São Paolo, which hosted five units ready to deploy on mission at any time. She'd earned her stripes with blood, sweat, and tears. She got things done, whatever the things might be.

But apparently she wasn't good enough for Lieutenant Sean freaking Ashton. Upon observing her at the shooting range in dock at an Alliance space station, he'd said, "How the hell did they promote you all the way to Gunnery Chief, Shepard? Do you ever use anything other than a pistol? Do you even know how?"

Beth had shot three perfect rounds with that pistol, stationary and moving targets. "It works for me," she'd said.

Ashton had been unimpressed. "Yeah? And what if it's a krogan charging at you, and that cute little thing can't pierce his plates? What if you need to take out a turret at 150 meters before it guns down the entire squad? Shepard, every dock for the next three months I want to see you here, and you don't go ground side with the unit until you shoot that well with at least one other weapon. Got it?" He pointed at the targets for emphasis.

Beth had wanted to cuss him out, wanted to tell him he couldn't do that to their unit, couldn't deprive them of an officer on mission. But he was the superior officer. Military wasn't like the streets, she'd found. Insubordination was okay in the Reds if you had the muscle or the argument to back it up. In the Alliance they called that mutiny, and any offense could be punishable with a shitload of extra duties at the very least, if the CO said so. Ashton didn't strike her as the understanding sort. So instead of cussing him out, she'd said, "Yes, sir."

The real kick in the ass, of course, was that he was right, Beth thought three weeks later as she knelt at the bar at the shooting range again, sniper rifle aimed at the target. She had been coasting. She'd been so good with a pistol already when she'd joined, she'd tested out of basic marksmanship, and she'd just never bothered learning the other weapons they taught there. It was a weakness on the field, could be a liability. Every man on the team had to be prepared for anything. She knew that, but she wasn't.

She took a deep breath, peered through the scope, and fired. Beside her, someone activated the pulley, and the target came rushing up. Beth looked at it. Perfect headshot.

"That's more like it," Ashton said from over her shoulder. "Can you hit a moving target that clean, Chief?"

"Don't know," Beth answered. "That's the first time I've hit a stationary that clean, and I've been practicing here for hours every time we've been in dock, just like you said."

"We've only been in dock twice before now," Ashton observed.

Beth raised an eyebrow at him and didn't say anything.

Ashton's mouth curved up. "You try any others?" he wanted to know.

"Yes, sir. I don't like shotguns, though. I'm alright with an assault rifle, but this . . . this just feels better. And you did say one, sir."

Ashton hummed. Pressing the controls again, he set the range to move a target back and forth at 110 meters, at the speed of a sprinter moving from cover to cover. Beth waited, catching the speed, until the target had moved once, twice, three times. Then she brought up the rifle, aimed, and fired.

Ashton brought the target up again. Beth hadn't scored a perfect headshot this time. But she hadn't missed, either.

"Keep working at it, Chief," Ashton said. "I want you making headshots like the stationary one every single time on every setting."

"One hundred percent accuracy? Sir, command doesn't ask that. They pass us out of even the advanced courses at eighty-five!"

"Your command asks it," Ashton said. "And only because you can do it, Shepard."

At this, Beth was silent. She couldn't help grinning. Again, he was right. "Yes, sir," she said at last. "Can I . . . permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Granted."

"May I at least go groundside next mission with the unit? I'm going out of my mind onboard ship while you're down there, sir."

"Think we can do that, Chief. Bring a rifle. But for now, I think you've practiced enough. Come on. You should eat something." He shut down Beth's lane. Beth put the rifle with the other practice guns and followed the lieutenant, as she was obviously supposed to do.

For a moment, they walked in silence. Beth wasn't nearly as pissed as she had been, but she really didn't know what to say to her CO, either. If he'd been a grizzled vet it would've been one thing, she thought, but Ashton wasn't too far above her, in rank or age. Her superior, yes, but only just. Stace's age, rather good looking, and if he was a hardass, he was a more well-intentioned hardass than she'd thought at first—not a guy that just wanted to throw his weight around but one that genuinely wanted her to be the best she could be. She didn't know the guy. She'd only just been assigned to the unit.

The silence stretched out, and Beth, feeling the awkwardness, was about to make an excuse and leave, when he broke it first. "So. Sniper rifle. Why do you like that one, Chief?"

Beth hesitated.

"Permission to speak freely, Shepard," he said, catching her reluctance. "This is spaceside leave. Downtime. Talk to me. Not an order, a request."

Beth relaxed a little. "I just . . . the shotgun's so aggressive, sir. With a shotgun, I'm in the enemy's face and I'm going to kill them. I don't . . . I don't like it. The assault rifle's better, but only a little. With the sniper, I can take my time. Maybe I take the shot, maybe I don't. Maybe it doesn't need to be taken. The gun needs patience, accuracy more than aggression. A cool head. And thinking about it, a sniper works best where people can't see him. That's always . . . that's always been the way I work best, too," she added, remembering all the time she'd spent in the Reds doing everything she could not to be seen, by the cops, by the rival gang on the next block over whenever she'd done a hack-and-heist, by all the other members in the gang that would've upped her visibility to cops and rivals if they'd ever known all she was really capable of doing.

"They say you can tell a lot about a soldier by their gun," Ashton remarked. "Snipers are cold. You're right that the shotgun's a more aggressive weapon, but snipers always see the enemy's face in detail."

"Right before they blow it straight to hell," Beth murmured.

Ashton was watching her as they walked out of the corner of his eye. "You don't like killing," he observed. "I've noticed before."

Beth shook her head. "I follow orders, sir. I do what I have to. But I didn't join the Alliance to shoot people. When the Alliance does their job, no one has to get shot."

Ashton considered this, and Beth thought she saw respect there, even approval. "You're right about that, Shepard. So why did you join the Alliance, if it wasn't your lust for violence?"

His tone was flippant, and Beth answered him in kind, though honestly. "Lust for adventure. Brave new worlds, charting new courses. The galaxy's just opening up to humans. I like to be where the action is."

"Smart, with just a bit of an ego. Also characteristics of snipers," Ashton said. He'd hit upon a teasing cadence, and Beth grinned.

"Hey, now."

"Why just the pistol before?" he wanted to know.

"It's what I learned first, sir," Beth shrugged. "Back on Earth."

"Police academy before you went military?" he guessed.

It was the natural assumption, and one that had been made before, but Beth still couldn't avoid feeling like she'd walked right into an electric fence every time. She'd been open with her recruiters about her past, to a point, though she'd taken full advantage of the law that allowed her not to incriminate herself too. Her association with the Reds was on file, but she'd found that not a lot of people looked at where she'd come from when they wanted to know about her. Just what she'd done since enlisting. It gave her a clean start, and Beth loved that. She just hated when she had to remember she wasn't clean. Never would be.

She grimaced "No," and left it at that. Ashton took one look at her face, and backed off.

"Ah, it seems I've stepped into a minefield. Fair enough. Your past is your business, Chief."

Beth nodded curtly, then sighed. He didn't mean any harm by it. "What about you, sir?" she offered, trying to keep the conversation going. "You use an assault rifle in the field. Is that your preferred weapon?"

"It's got some nice range on it," he agreed. "Not as accurate as a pistol or a sniper rifle, but you use one right, and it can cause a hell of a lot of damage."

"Even to a charging krogan, sir?" Beth asked.

Ashton laughed a little. "You better hope we never actually see one of those, Chief. Not pretty. When it's a charging krogan, honestly? You don't just need a really big gun, you also need a lot of luck."

They arrived at the double doors to the mess. Ashton started to hold the door for her, but Beth shot him a scornful look and just opened the other herself.

"Whoa. Guess I better get out of your way, Shepard."

"It's the smart thing to do," Beth told him. She laughed a little at herself then. "Sorry. I just . . . I make my own way. Always have."

Ashton joined her in the food line. Both of them grabbed trays. "I know," he said. "It's something I've noticed. I actually wanted to talk to you about that."

He waited until they'd both been served and were seated at a table before speaking again.

Beth spooned some soup into her mouth, swallowed. "Well, sir? Shoot."

"You're good, Shepard," Ashton informed her. He pointed his fork at her, shook it, dead serious. "Almost as good as you think you are. You've got heart a lot of the others don't. But you won't get much further in your career unless you learn to work with others."

Beth was insulted. "Sir, I follow orders," she repeated. "I do my duty."

"Yes, you do," he agreed. "But you're moving into command now, Chief. It's not just about following orders anymore. You're responsible for the lives and actions of the men under you. You can't just think of your part, you have to think of everyone's part. The good of the unit, not just you."

Ashton paused, took a couple bites, looked at her to see if she was getting it. "Shepard, I've seen you. No one does their job better or more thoroughly than you. You're smart, you're capable, and when you need to learn something, you learn it fast. But you don't work well with others. You don't know the unit, you don't trust the unit, and that means they don't trust you. And if they don't know you, don't trust you, how are you going to command them in the field? How are you even going to know what commands you should give? Something's got to change."

Beth considered. Once again, Ashton was right. It was getting annoying, how often that happened, she reflected. Every time she walked into the room, the unit fell silent. Before now, she'd been a glorified relay for someone else's instructions on the field. As Gunnery Chief, she was supposed to work with Ashton to make sure missions ran smoothly, which meant making decisions about how they would run. With machines, computers, all the parts and processes had to be in place and functioning well or they wouldn't work right. With a unit it was the same, except Beth hadn't gotten to know the components that made up the unit. She didn't know where they'd go best, or how they ought to function.

"Understood, sir," Beth said, humbled. "Thank you, sir."

"It's my job to help you be the best you can be," Ashton said. "And you're part of my unit."

Beth guessed she was, and extended her hand. "Well, sir. I'm Beth Shepard, Gunnery Chief of the 179. My background's small-group street ops, with a defensive tech and mechanical specialty. I'm trained in hand-to-hand combat, single opponent or against a group. I'm a hell of a shot with a pistol, and I'm working on learning the sniper rifle. You tell me where and how to go, I go."

Ashton, amused, shook her hand, playing with her that they were meeting for the first time. Perhaps they were. His brown eyes flitted over to a nearby group of the men, eating nearby. "Chief?" he said.

"Lieutenant?" Beth said, though she knew before he said it what he wanted her to do.

"Go."

Beth picked up her tray and went over to begin getting to know the rest of the squad.