This is the first part of a five- or six-part series on the life and legend of Commander John C. Shepard; one is completed (this one), one is being drafted, two are fully planned out, and two are in the conceptual stages. I typically try and work about six or seven chapters ahead of the publishing point, so that I can have a fairly regular update schedule that isn't subject to the mercies of my (hectic) work or school schedule.
I have now begun general revisions on Salvation, which means that there will be some minor changes ongoing in the next few weeks.
Usual disclaimers about copyright and resemblance apply.
Mass Effect: Salvation
Prologue: Genesis
"For those battles which are most difficult, refrain from sending those whose souls are pure, for they are prone to losing faith in the heat of the battle. Send instead those whom have seen the depths of the abyss, those who have walked through fire and brimstone and lived, those whose souls are washed red in the ghosts of death and destruction. For they will never yield, they will never flee, and they will never disappoint." –Primarch Victarian Tulius, Turian Military Theorist, General (206-279CE)
Space Station Arcturus - Systems Alliance Headquarters - Arcturus System
The room was completely silent, broken only by the noise of a dozen admirals, generals, and senior commanders of the Human Systems Alliance seating themselves around the massive oak table in the conference room. A three-piece monolith that had taken several days to move from Earth, each seat had a holo-terminal, several additional monitors, and enormous stacks of reports and papers. The twelve men and women seated in the conference room represented the full political and military hierarchy of the Systems Alliance – distinguished soldiers and politicians from across HSA space. Among them was Admiral Steven Hackett, the commander of the Alliance Fifth Fleet. A career soldier, Hackett had enlisted as a private, and steadily rose through the Chain of Command, until today he was one of the most powerful officers in the Alliance Navy. Only Admiral William Coryn – Commander of the Systems Alliance – and Citadel Ambassador Donnell Udina were considered above him in the chain of command.
Coryn himself stood at the head of the table, with Udina to his immediate right. The commanding officers of the major Alliance Fleets were also present, as were several high-ranking Alliance Army generals. Coryn motioned for those present to be seated, as two note-takers began typing away furiously on their holo-computers. "This meeting of the Joint High Command of the Human Systems Alliance is now in session. Present members include Grand Admiral William Coryn – Chief of Alliance Command Staff", the station VI observed, "Admiral Vladimir Zhukov – First Fleet, Admiral Rachel Holmes – Second Fleet, Admiral Nitesh Singh – Third Fleet, Admiral Deng Hao – Fourth Fleet, Admiral Steven Hackett – Fifth Fleet, Admiral Tadius Ahern – Commander of Pinnacle Station, Rear-Admiral Erik Gregory – Acting Commander of Grissom Academy, Vice-Admiral Graeme Watson – Designated Commander Special Forces Training Facilities, Senator Cornelia Cardus – Systems Alliance Secretary of Defense, Commander David Anderson – first graduate of the N7 Program, Citadel Ambassador Donnell Udina, and Rear-Admiral Mikhailovich of the 63rd Scout Flotilla. Ambassador Udina has the floor".
Udina rose, his grey suit standing in marked contrast to the military uniforms around him. "Since First Contact nearly three decades ago, humanity has pushed near-constantly for greater influence in Council Space. In 2160, we formed the Systems Alliance Parliament, which allowed us to project a unified voice into galactic governance. In 2165, we were granted an Embassy in the Citadel, earning a place at the table of galactic politics. In 2171, we successfully gained colonization rights of the Skylian Verge, and our rapid colonization efforts there – and the fending off of Batarian attacks on colonies such as Elysium – proved that humanity could thrive and prosper in a galactic environment. We are proficient participants in galactic commerce, and the number of humans in the ranks of C-SEC grows every year. This year alone, we have begun to mend relations with the Turians – something we have had difficulty with since the First Contact War." On the holo, a series of images flashed before the assembled admirals – the inauguration of the first Systems Alliance Parliament, the opening of the human embassy, the opening of the Elysium Memorial. "The newly completed SSV Normandy, a prototype Stealth Frigate, is a result of human-Turian collaboration, and represents a significant leap forward, from both a political and technological standpoint."
Admiral Coryn rose, continuing where Udina had left off. "The Normandy represents a new era in Human participation in Citadel military and political affairs, yet it is the opinion of several at this table," Coryn glanced at Udina, "that our accomplishments thus far are but a fraction of what humanity deserves. It has long been the opinion of political elites within the Systems Alliance Parliament that humanity should seek to attain a seat on the Citadel Council, something that the Volus have been attempting to do since the Ptolemaic era of human history." Coryn was fond of reminding the more ambitious human politicians of this, as it helped to alleviate the sense of presumptuousness that seemed to dominate current Systems Alliance politics. "But I think perhaps our Defense Secretary can provide you all with more of the political details."
Senator Cardus now turned to speak, as she remained seated and facing the assembled admirals from Coryn's left. "eight years ago, the Systems Alliance Parliament identified four major hurdles to humanity having a legitimate claim to a Council seat. In founding an Embassy in 2165, we cleared one of those hurdles. We cleared the second when we signed the Treaty of Farixen a year later, which allowed for Dreadnought construction and the emergence of the Alliance as a major military power in Council Space. The third threshold we have to cross is ongoing: The continued proving of humanity's ability to survive, thrive, contribute, and dominate throughout the Galaxy; our commerce has grown, and our repulsion of Batarian attacks in the Skylian Verge went a long way in proving this." She paused, surveying the Fleet Admirals, her eyes coming to rest on David Anderson. "The last threshold is that of the Spectres. Udina's predecessor – Ambassador Goyle – attempted to cross this threshold eighteen years ago, when David Anderson was considered as a candidate for induction into the Special Tactics and Recon branch of Council Defense. Unfortunately, for various reasons, this candidacy was later rejected and withdrawn." Her eyes stayed focused on Anderson, who was obviously feeling a great deal of discomfort at having to be reminded of his failure.
Hackett couldn't blame him, given the circumstances under which the candidacy had been rejected. Anderson had been assigned to a deep cover operation alongside Saren Arterius, one of the most decorated Spectres alive. The mission – to retrieve illegal AI research data from a Batarian stronghold – had gone poorly, with hundreds of civilians killed in circumstances that still weren't fully known or understood by Alliance of Council Command. The entire debacle had been blamed on Anderson, and he had spent the next eighteen years with that albatross around his neck. Though Anderson had continued to rise through the ranks of the Alliance Navy – having recently been granted command of the Normandy itself, he had carried that failure with him ever since. Hackett felt the need to keep the meeting moving quickly, so as to minimize Anderson's discomfort. "Senator, Ambassador, if I may? While all of us are no doubt grateful for a reminder of our own history, perhaps it would be better to speak of why exactly we are here. I believe Commander Anderson has more specifics on the matter at hand, which he should address".
Anderson calmly collected himself, folding his hands together and surveying those present. "I was given command of the Normandy three weeks ago, while Nihlus Kryik was appointed by the Turian Hierarchy and the Citadel Council to act as an assessor for the Turian contribution to the project. Two weeks ago, he contacted me. As you are no doubt previously aware, I was given complete operational freedom to hand-pick the crew for Normandy, for which I am very grateful". Anderson glanced at Hackett, who nodded his approval. He had pushed hard to allow Anderson to select his own crew for the Normandy; it was the least the Alliance could do after their handling of his Spectre candidacy's rejection. "Nihlus has been lobbying the Council for some time, asking them to consider inducting a Human into the ranks of the Spectres. Two weeks ago, the Council agreed to his proposal, with several provisions. First, both Kryik and the Council asked that he be the one to act as the mentor to any potential Spectre candidate. Second, Udina and I were advised that the Council would favour this potential candidate being assigned as the Executive Officer to the Normandy, so as to allow for better monitoring of their progress".
The silence in the room was deafening. None of the admirals spoke, or even glanced at each other. Hackett glanced around the room; several admirals seemed to have guessed that this was the intention of the meeting, but others were caught completely off-guard. Each admiral had simply been tasked with compiling the dossiers of their best soldiers, commandos, and Marines. Indeed, Hackett only knew the truth – the potential for Spectre Candidacy – because he had long been a close friend of Anderson and Grand Admiral Coryn. The Grand Admiral rose to speak to the assembled leaders. "Ladies and Gentlemen of Alliance High Command, you have been gathered here today to make that choice. If we are to put forward an exceptional individual for Spectre Candidacy, who is it to be?"
Close to two hours of diplomatic, political, and personal bargaining and arguing followed. The back-and-forth was intense. Each Admiral had their two or three preferred candidates, and each argued passionately for their soldiers. Anderson – who ultimately had the leeway to pick who he wanted, but would regard the Command Staff's recommendation as sacrosanct – shot down several of the prospective candidates. He had clearly done his homework; he knew virtually everything about all of the potential candidates – their mission specs, their reputations, their proficiencies, even their psych evaluations. As each admiral's candidates were rejected, they gradually left the room. After two hours, only Coryn, Anderson, Udina, Cardus, and Hackett remained in the conference room.
"At this point, we have narrowed it down to three potential candidates". Coryn sounded exasperated; Hackett didn't blame him – the admirals whose candidates had been rejected would ensure that he was reminded of it for some time. "Let's start with Lt. Commander Gregorovich. Born on Earth in 2149, lived on the streets of St. Petersburg through most of his childhood, enlisted with the Alliance Navy at age 18 – gained his N5 designation inside of two years. He has impeccable credentials while on Patrols with the 22nd Frontier Division – three Distinguished Service Medals, two Bronze Stars, and one Medal of Valour. Gained his N7 designation in 2177, and comes with the full recommendation of Admiral Zhukov."
Anderson shook his head. "Out of the question. The first human spectre will be more than just a soldier – they'll be a symbol for humanity and what we can accomplish. I'm not letting Gregorovich be that symbol – not after what happened on Torfan. He sent virtually his entire platoon to its death, killed several dozen unarmed Batarians, and was at one time assessed as exhibiting psychopathic behaviour. He's an excellent soldier, but he's no symbol – not one you'd want, at any rate".
"Ok, so Gregorovich is not our Spectre Candidate. Second remaining potential is Lt. Commander Rachel Dawes. She was born on Mindoir in 2150, and enlisted with the Alliance at age 19 – Batarian slavers massacred the colony a year later. She's served twelve years of Patrol Duty with the 3rd Frontier Division – six Distinguished Service Medals, three Bronze Stars, one Long Service Medal, was part of the relief forces for Elysium during the Skylian Blitz. She specializes in Combat Engineering."
This time, it was Udina who interjected. "Six months ago I certainly would have considered her a viable candidate, but that is no longer the case. Connections have been uncovered that link her to the Terra Firma Party, which is notoriously anti-alien. I doubt someone like that would want to be a Council Spectre, and even if they did I doubt the Council would induct them."
It was left to Hackett to break the tension in the room. "What about Lt. Shepard?" Hackett pulled up his dossier onto the holo-screen. Udina glanced through it quickly. "He's a spacer, the son of Commander Hannah Shepard and Staff Lieutenant Thomas Shepard; he lived aboard starships most of his life. He was noted as having developed substantial biotic abilities in his youth. He enrolled in Officer's School at age 18, was completed after three years – graduated 2nd of 347 in his class. He earned his N7 Designation two years later and was assigned to the 3rd Advanced Recon Regiment. He was part of the platoon that was sent to investigate Akuze".
Coryn interjected. "I remember that. Entire colony went dark, we sent the 3rd ARR to investigate. Turned out the colony had been destroyed by Thresher Maws. Shepard was part of the first ground team – entire platoon was massacred in the space of a few minutes – he was the only one who got back to the shuttle. Underwent six months of PTSD psychotherapy. According to this dossier, he was transferred to the 9th Frontier Shock Regiment – completed seven tours of duty in the Verge – four Distinguished Service Medals, three Crimson Stars, one Silver Star – and is currently assigned to the Cruiser Cairo as a subcommander for the Marine Detachment. That's one hell of a service record, but still…"
It came as no surprise to Hackett that there were misgivings about the aftermath of Akuze. Anderson had warned of as much when he asked Hackett to put forward Shepard's name. Anderson had overseen N7 training when Shepard completed the program, and had taken a liking to the young, highly-skilled biotic. Hackett had first taken notice of him when he served in the 9th FSR, which was subordinate to the Fifth Fleet at the time. Shepard had never fully recovered from what he'd experienced on Akuze, and it had shown in the almost-fanatical way he had devoted himself to patrol duty.
Udina voiced the misgivings that Hackett knew he would. "He suffered severe psychological trauma as a result of Akuze. You remember all of that – the board of inquiry, the hearings, the commission into the disaster. Do you really think that that's the type of person we want protecting humanity?"
Anderson answered what was meant to be a rhetorical question. "That's the only type of person I trust to protect humanity. He's been to the brink of hell and back, he's seen how fragile our existence is. If anyone can act as a symbol for the resiliency of humanity, it's Shepard. I fully support him being named as humanity's candidate for the Spectres".
"As do I", a new voice entered the chamber. Standing in one of the entryways, a lone Turian walked into the Conference Room, sitting himself in the chair previously occupied by Admiral Zhukov. His presence took Hackett, Cardus and Udina aback – this was supposed to be a secure station, the most secure in Alliance space. "I apologize for having been this discrete in my arrival. While I certainly can get myself nearly anywhere on this station, given the proper clearance and equipment, I felt that a Turian on board an Alliance space station may be viewed with suspicion." Nihlus offered a handshake to all four of the officers, before returning to his seat. "Now then, you were discussing Lieutenant Shepard?"
"Yes, we were." Udina obviously did not approve of a Turian Spectre being permitted on board Arcturus Station, and he made no effort to hide it. "Though I must note that you have no sway over who we choose to make our Spectre candidate".
"While you are technically correct, you should be aware that I will have substantial influence once the process starts. My recommendations as this candidate's mentor will factor heavily into the Council's decision on whether or not to grant Spectre status. You would also do well to heed my advice; I know what the Council is looking for in their Spectre candidates." Nihlus regarded Udina coldly, before turning to speak directly to Admiral Coryn and Anderson. "There are only a handful of individuals that I would feel comfortable mentoring for induction into the Spectres, and I believe Shepard to be the most qualified of these. He has scars, of that there is no doubt, but he is a symbol of humanity's resiliency. Based on the reports I have seen, his combat abilities are exceptional, and he is among the more powerful of human biotics in Council Space. I would consider him an excellent addition to the ranks of the Spectres".
Defeated, Udina reluctantly agreed. "Very well. I suppose the four of you leave me with no choice. I'll put in the call."
"Shepard is currently stationed aboard the Cairo, and is on shore leave in Vancouver." Anderson replied. "Arrange to have him rendezvous with us at the L4 Station. Nihlus will meet him".
Nihlus nodded, "That I will."
New Chaos Nightclub – Vancouver – North American Federated States – Earth, Sol System
The music was heavy, the pulse constant and quick – the bass shifted constantly, creating a sense of anarchy. Mixed with the two glasses of scotch he had already consumed, it made for a satisfying level of disorientation. He had come here several times during his shore leave – he enjoyed the sound, the atmosphere, the feeling of the music combined with the alcohol. It helped him escape from the nightmare of what he had seen, what had happened on Akuze. Nearly six years later, Staff Lieutenant John Cameron Shepard was still captive to that fateful day.
Shepard was born in 2154 to Alliance Navy parents – his mother (now a Commander herself) had been a Second Lieutenant on the SSV Verdun, while his father was a Marine in the 2nd Frontier Division. Due to in-vitro exposure to Element Zero, he had been born with latent biotic tendencies, which manifested themselves at an early age. Both of his parents had seen action during the First Contact War – his father had been wounded during the retaking of Shanxi, while his uncle had been killed in the initial Turian assault. He had spent most of his young life transferring between vessels, never quite being able to call any one of them home. Yet from the moment he was old enough to comprehend its consequences, he had wanted to serve in space, to follow in his parents' footsteps: He wanted to be a Marine.
He had enlisted in the Alliance Navy as soon as he was eligible, attending Officer's School at Arcturus Station – specializing in Advanced Infantry tactics. He had earned his N1, N2, N3 and N4 Special Forces designations during Officer's School, and graduated 2nd in his class. He had trained intensively for the two years following, and had been accepted into the N7 Program at age 22 – the second youngest to ever receive the N7 Designation. He had been assigned to the 3rd Advanced Reconnaissance Regiment – composed entirely of Special Forces Marines, the 3rd ARR patrolled the fringes of Systems Alliance Space in the aftermath of the Skylian Blitz. He had been a squad commander in a platoon of fifty Marines – they were his brothers, his sisters, his friends. His rise through the ranks had been meteoric, and many had him pegged to become one of the youngest Admirals in Alliance history. Some even whispered that Shepard would be the one to cross the Rubicon that was the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance Branch of Council Defense.
Until Akuze.
A relatively new colony in the Attican Traverse, Akuze had dropped off of the Alliance communications grid in the last month of 2177. Shepard's platoon – stationed on the cruiser Warsaw – had been deployed to investigate. They arrived to find the colony deserted and destroyed – no one was left alive. On the first night on the planet, they had been attacked by Thresher Maws – gargantuan horrors native to Tuchunka, and the entire platoon had been massacred. Shepard had evaded death for close to forty hours, before successfully evacuating on a recon sweep by a shuttle from the Cape Town. When the shuttle had picked him up, he was the only Marine left. In a matter of hours, his entire life had been shattered.
Delirious, shell-shocked, barely alive, Shepard had spent two weeks in the Medical Bay of the Cape Town, before being dragged before the captain of the cruiser and seated in an interrogation chair. His memories of the event were hazy, and the trauma of watching his entire squad die weighed heavily on him. After two weeks of psychiatric evaluation in a hospital on Terra Nova (at least he'd been told it was Terra Nova), he had been summoned to Arcturus to stand before a military investigation into the disaster. He was treated as something of a cross between a mental patient and a criminal – how had he been the only one to survive, when so many others had died? He resented their questioning – he hadn't done anything wrong, he had simply survived when no one else had. Eventually, truth won out, and he was lauded as a hero for having survived; he despised it. He wasn't a hero any more than he was a criminal, and attributing what had been luck to some sort of skill infuriated him.
The incident had scarred him – more deeply than he knew at the time. He had become insular, detached – at least his mother said as much – and isolated. His sleep was haunted by nightmares, forcing him to relive the horror of Akuze on an almost-weekly basis. He had completed multiple Patrol Tours on various ships, but had avoided getting close to those who served under him. To his subordinates, he was seen as aloof and isolated, yet highly professional. To those above him, he was seen as unpredictable, and unstable. He had trained as a Vanguard – a close-combat biotic specialist geared towards an offensive role, and he was damned good at it. He sought no friends, no lovers, no companions – duty was his only lover, combat his only mistress. He had always been devoted to the well-being of those who served under him, but after Akuze that dedication reached near-fanatic levels. As he routinely stood in front of oncoming gunfire to protect those around him, he had also hardened himself to the advances of many of those around him. It was the only way he could hold onto his sanity, the only way he could close his eyes and not see the ghostly faces of his Marines staring back at him, accusingly, as if their deaths were somehow his fault.
Akuze had also marked the end to his rapid ascension through the ranks. While the Alliance brass publicly lauded him as a hero, they had viewed the PTSD-like symptoms, coupled with his bitter resentment of that laud, as unstable. His promotions had stalled, and while any superior he served under had noted with admiration his professional dedication to his duty, and his willingness to take absurd risks to protect those around him, it had never resulted in a rise through the ranks of the Alliance. While he had won commendation on several Patrol Tours through the Terminus Systems, he had watched as the most risky, the most sensitive operations had been given over to men with half of his ability – and in many cases twice his psychopathy. Men like Gregorovich, a now-infamous "Butcher of Torfan" who had massacred Batarian civilians whilst sending his own squad to its destruction. He had quietly won the admiration of key figures in the alliance – Steven Hackett, for example, but it had gotten him nowhere. Bitter, he had resigned himself to life as a Staff Lieutenant aboard a standard Alliance Cruiser.
Shepard surveyed the crowd at the New Chaos Nightclub. It was an upscale establishment, situated in the heart of the wealthiest arcology towers of Vancouver. The clientele was wealthy, and it showed in the bar prices – Shepard had spent close to a hundred credits already, and he was nowhere near the end of his night. He was dressed in his crew fatigues – the emblem of the SSV Cairo was clearly visible, but he was the only Marine at New Chaos. His subordinates – the grunts of the Alliance Navy – went to seedier places during their shore leave; he didn't know where they were, and he didn't particularly care, so long as they showed up when the Cairo departed for training maneuvers with the Third and Fifth Fleets in the Arcturus System.
The music reached its crescendo, as it built towards an electronica-fuelled climax. The pulse played havoc with Shepard's sense of balance and orientation, as the ringing in his head increased as the scotch took its effect. The bartender walked over, almost detecting Shepard's disorientation – that, and the fact that his glasses were empty, "you want another one?" Shepard nodded silently in response, pulling up his omni-tool and depositing another forty credits into the nightclub's account. When the transaction registered on the bartender's screen, he quickly poured another glass of Scotch: Palaven White, the finest Turian whiskey, aged for three decades in a dextro-charcoal barrel – the process of converting the DNA-base added substantially more kick to the alcohol than similar human varieties would have. The bartender studied Shepard curiously. "We don't get a lot of Marines in this place. Where's the rest of your crew? Shouldn't you be with them if you're on shore leave, enjoying time with your brothers in arms?"
Shepard slowly turned to him, and shook his head. "Shore leave in the seedier places that my subordinates prefer to go brings back too many bad memories. I prefer it here – plus, the alcohol is better."
The bartender chuckled to himself. "Most marines seem to have bad memories of their first shore leave. Somehow that doesn't strike me as too surprising. I understand completely." He didn't, but Shepard smiled back weakly, forcing a strained laugh himself. The seedier nightclubs in the Surrey district of Vancouver reminded him of the places he had gone with his squad when on shore leave on Terra Nova, as well as in Hong Kong and Bekenstein. They brought back memories of his squad – those eight months of excitement and contentment with his place in the Galaxy.
Shepard spotted the Alliance uniform from across the nightclub, as the distinctive arch emblem glinted in the neon lighting of New Chaos. He could make out the armbands of a Corporal – not the type of Marine to be found at New Chaos. There could only be one reason this Marine was in this part of Vancouver: Shepard. From across the dance-floor, through the mass of people, the Marine spotted Shepard, maneuvering his way around the outskirts of the dance floor. This gave Shepard enough time to hurriedly down the last of his scotch, and order a bartender to take the three glasses away; a high-ranking officer becoming intoxicated was something that was bound to become gossip, and Shepard wanted to avoid that – Akuze had damaged his reputation enough.
The Marine found his way to Shepard after several minutes. "Lieutenant John Shepard, SSV Cairo?" John simply nodded, gesturing for the Marine to continue. "Corporal Alfredson, SSV Hong Kong. I have a message for you from Fifth Fleet Command." The Corporal pulled up his omni-tool, the data instantly transferring to Shepard's as well. "You've been reassigned. SSV Normandy, under the command of David Anderson. You are to report to the Alliance Docking Bay at 14:00 tomorrow." With that, the Marine saluted, turned, and left the nightclub.
John turned to the bar and ordered another glass of scotch. He pulled up his omni-tool, and began parsing the information he had been given. He had been transferred from a Cruiser to a prototype stealth frigate. Of joint Human-Turian design, Normandy was commanded by David Anderson – the same Anderson who had been XO of the Warsaw when he deployed to Akuze, the same David Anderson who had overseen his N7 training nearly a decade earlier. It was a substantially smaller ship than the Cairo, but it was newer, faster, and possessed state-of-the-art stealth technology. He glanced at the title of his new posting: Executive Officer. It was certainly a step up from his current post on the Cairo, so much so that it surprised him – Executive Officer of a Frigate was jumping several steps in the chain of command. He didn't even have to report to the Cairo before deploying to Normandy – the crew of the Frigate would take care to move his possessions (what few there were), and the transfer was pre-approved both by his commanding officer as well as Admiral Hackett.
Satisfied, Shepard returned to his next glass of scotch. If he was going to be the XO of Normandy, he would need a lot of sleep tonight.
Marine Barracks - Vancouver
He ran, not even because he had been ordered to, but because it was the only instinct his adrenaline-filled body would listen to. The destruction grew worse all around him, as the gargantuan horrors slaughtered what was left of the battlegroup; they were shredded alive by the spinning rows of teeth, dissolved in acid, or simply crushed by the sheer weight of the leviathans. To his left, half of his platoon sprinted for cover, as the remnants of the prefab colony were demolished around them.
He saw Emily trip and stumble into the dirt, saw as Adam Erickson slowed his pace to help her to her feet, watched in horror as the shadow of an enormous Thresher Maw darkened the sky above them. Her beautiful eyes connected with his for a single moment, filled with fear, regret, and sorrow. Time seemed to slow, as he gazed on her beautiful face for what he knew was the last time. As darkness incarnate descended upon them, she mouthed three words: "I love you." Then she was gone, buried in an inferno of dust, ash, and teeth. Shepard turned away, his eyes filled with tears. He pulled his gloved hands over his ears, willing himself to blot out the screaming emitted by his dying love.
He scrambled through the nearest prefab shelter, joining Toombs and the remaining four marines of his platoon. He saw Erickson attempt to duck left into another shelter, but was forced to watch as it too was consumed in a burst of acid from the nearest Maw. He saw the pained expression on Toombs's face, and knew that the young corporal would never be the same again. If they got out alive, none of them would be.
"Toombs, take Jade, Matthews, Malkin and Singh. Sweep around the far side and back to towards the shuttles. It's our only chance of escape! The Alliance needs to know what happened here!"
"Shepard, we have to search for survivors!"
"If we do, we're done for. There are maybe ten other marines still alive. If any of them made it out of the main square, they'll meet us at the spaceport. You heard Gillespie – it doesn't matter who we get there with, just fucking get there! Move, move, move!"
The five of them bolted through the back door of the prefab shelter. All around them, the night sky grew red with the fire from the smouldering buildings. They ducked, darted, twisted and dove through the wreckage of the colony, dodging bursts of acid as they made a desperate attempt to make it back to the shuttle. They were halfway to the edge of the settlement when the Maw burst through the ground directly in front of them. Malkin and Jade were killed instantly, as shards of twisted metal pierced right through their armour. He felt the impact of shards of rock and metal hitting him, heard the screams of Malkin and Singh, and then only silence as he lost consciousness. Falling, falling, forever falling.
Shepard woke rapidly at 07:00, his pulse and breathing rapid. He sat bolt upright, the sheets covered in sweat. It was still so vivid, after all these years, the horror of Akuze still fresh in his mind. It was early, and the throbbing pain in his head from the copious amounts of alcohol the previous night was certain to only get worse. Groaning in discomfort, Shepard forced himself out of the bed. It was a nice change from the sleeper-pods and bunks used on Alliance vessels, and his body responded well to it.
John Shepard was 205 pounds of almost pure muscle, sculpted and hardened by eleven years of military service, including six years of harsh Terminus patrol duty. As a result of his biotic abilities, his reflexes were incredible, and his aim with close-quarters weapons was dead-on every time. He redressed himself in his Marine Fatigues, before sitting back down on the bed.
Shepard had not told the psychiatric evaluators about the nightmares. They had started almost immediately after he was taken off sedatives in Scott Military General Hospital on Terra Nova. They came uninvited – memories of that terrible night indelibly etched into his mind. The fourth night in the Sanitarium had been the worst, but his blood-curdling screams had not made it beyond the bounds of his soundproof cell.
How long would it be before those images of fire and death stopped coming back to him every time he closed his eyes? When would he stop seeing the gruesome deaths of Erickson, Toombs, Adam, and Emily? Emily – the very thought of that name caused his stomach to recoil in pain. She had been the first person he had genuinely fallen in love with, something they had confessed to each other a mere two weeks before Akuze. The trauma and pain of that experience had caused him to wall himself in, to shut off his emotions from the outside world. Sighing, Shepard lay back down, yet could not close his eyes, lest the images of Akuze return again.
Two hours later he rose, stirring slightly at the sound of an envelope being pushed against his door. Striding across the room, he opened it to discover a thick envelope with Alliance markings on it. Opening the letter, his eyes quickly scanned the notice.
Staff Lieutenant John C. Shepard – N7 Marines – SSV Cairo – Alliance Fifth Fleet
You are hereby transferred to the Frigate SSV Normandy of the 63rd Scout Flotilla, under the command of Captain David Anderson. Effective immediately, you are also promoted to Lieutenant Commander, and appointed as the Executive Officer for SSV Normandy. In accordance with this promotion, your Security Clearance has been increased to Delta IX, your pay to Grade XVIII, and your allotted Shore Leave to six weeks per Galactic Standard Year.
You are to report to Normandy at the Alliance Dockyard on the L4 Orbital Station at 14:00 Hours today.
Admiral Steven Hackett – SSV Everest – Alliance Fifth Fleet
Ad stellas, ad aeternitas
Shepard opened the small package that came along with the envelope. It contained two shoulder patches – the three bars and star of a Lieutenant-Commander. A new Alliance insignia also fell into the palm of his hand – the word Normandy in gold flanked by the three-star emblem of the Systems Alliance. Shepard smiled to himself. At long last, the curse of Akuze might be coming to an end.