Mass Effect: Solitary Star
Prologue
Legal Information:
This story, which is called "Solitary Star", is an independent fanfic. Neither this story, nor the author is authorized or sponsored by, nor licensed or affiliated in any way with any entity involved with or representing the development, marketing, distribution or support of EA, or BioWare Corporation. All titles, items, and characters, described or referred to in "Solitary Star" of the original game are trademarks of their respective companies. This fanfic is absolutely non-commercial and non-profit, and may not be distributed in any forms or in any parts without prior consent of the author "F'Char".
Concerning Spoilers:
This story may include spoilers during the timeline of Mass Effect or Mass Effect 2. No spoilers from Mass Effect 3 will be present.
Shepard had it coming and she didn't even know it.
The man swept his fingers through his blonde hair as he stared at her. Might not be good with a gun, he mused with a crooked smile, but words are my forte.
He shuffled the papers in front of him casually and quietly, allowing his gaze to pan the room as he politely waited his turn to speak.
The turnout had been remarkable. The room they were currently in was large enough to house hundreds of people easily, and that it had. A line was even formed outside of the door and snaked to the entrance of the hotel. Beautifully exotic flowers decorated the chamber both visually and fragrantly, lending a calm air about the room despite all of the excitement. The centerpieces on the tables were to die for and the koi pond was just as genius a design as the rest. Anyone with a good number of credits to their name had made their way to Bekenstein's Golden Horizons Hotel for a press conference with none other than Commander Shepard herself.
He was going to make sure they weren't disappointed.
He adjusted the mic on the side of his mouth with a pearly white smile and then stood to his feet, the chair behind of him catching on the floor and causing a scraping sound as he did so.
"Commander Shepard," he began with a flip of his wrist toward the woman. "Thank you for taking time out of your very busy schedule to meet and talk with us-" He lifted his fingers up and made mocking quotation marks with his hands as the next word spilled from his lips. "-'normal' people. I know it must be a bother." He watched as her lips opened in protest. He wasn't going to let her speak. There were two outcomes: Either she was going to defend herself or she was going to make him look like a complete ass. He decided neither was appropriate.
"I would also like to thank Golden Horizons for housing this exquisite Press Conference." A soft, eager murmur spread over the crowd like a cresting wave; the anticipation was already growing. "Now, Commander Shepard," his soft brown eyes turned on the woman, "before we begin, I'd like to remind you we have over forty-four different news channels and at least a billion citizens eagerly awaiting the words of their famous hero."
He watched as Shepard's eyes grazed over the crowd in a cautious manner. Good, he thought as he politely laced his hands behind his back, she's on edge. Maybe she'll let something slip accidentally. He'd try the easier questions first. Get her comfortable and in a pattern. "The first question I'd like to ask you comes from a poll on on the extranet."
Shepard took the glass of water in from front of her and held it up to take a sip before putting it back down.
"Commander Shepard, what is your favorite color?" As he asked this, a few murmurs of approval jostled the crowd out of their silence.
"Red." Her answer was crisp, clear, and short.
"Red you say?" He threw her a wink as she looked his way. "Are there any particular reasons you like red?"
"It symbolizes many things. I find it most aesthetically pleasing." She fell silent again.
It was apparent he was going to have to work with her to get her to open up a little more. This conference, he assumed, was also going to make him or break him as a reporter. He placed a curled finger to his lips for a moment in thought before he continued. "Who is your favorite crew member?" His tone held a slightly playful edge.
"Irrelevant. Next question." She waved a hand in his direction.
"Very well then. Perhaps one of the most asked questions on Bekenstein: What do you use to keep your hair so amazingly volumized and brilliantly shining?" As he asked this he turned his attention to her hair. Any respectable person would have fainted at the sight of her. She was bland, had no fashion sense, and the bruises on her cheeks and guns on her hips just reinforced the fact that she was little more than a brute, semi-intelligent animal to him.
She clasped her hands together and leaned into the table as she once again studied the crowd. "Whatever I can find." There were plethoras of tapping sounds as people began to record her answer.
A forced laugh built up in the man's throat before he allowed a fake, throaty chuckle to escape his lips. "I suppose it's just your natural beauty. Now, my next question runs a bit deeper than your hairline."
Shepard nodded at him to continue.
As if I need permission, he scoffed inwardly. "Recent reports show that both romance novels and romance movies regarding interspecies relationships with turians and humans have skyrocketed within the past few months. Do you think you and your turian lover have anything to do with that?"
There! He had seen it himself! A twitch of her lips; the sudden, surprised bulge of the eyes! Her face was completely neutral as of now, of course, but his body trembled with bliss knowing that he had made an effect on her. His smile widened greatly as a large murmur from the crowd swept and echoed off the walls of the room. He hoped that damn dirty turian was watching.
"I have no idea. The turian and I are good friends only."
He clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth a few times. "There have been numerous upon numerous reports of seeing you with what seems to be the same turian. On top of that, there have been claims made that there is footage to support these claims—and others as well."
"I'm going to repeat that we are just friends. I trust him, so perhaps that is why people see him at my side so often."
The man took a glass of cool, clean water in his hand though he didn't take a drink. "What exactly does your past flame think of your strong relationship with the turian? …Kaidan? I believe that was his name, yes?" He held his glass out to her in a gesture of good will.
Shepard leaned back into her chair, her back completely rigid. "I'm not sure what my former companion thinks of my friendship with the turian now."
He swept one hand through the curly hair on the side of his head. He gave her a raised brow in curiosity. She was better at twisting his words than he had previously surmised. No matter.
"Speaking of former," as he said this, his gaze swept over the crowd and he put down the drink on the table in front of him. He shifted his weight onto the other foot and continued. ". . . Are you happy to have your former status as a Spectre back?"
She unlaced her hands and placed one on top of the other. She looked positively bored. "Yes."
"What would you say to those thousands, maybe millions of people who believe you faked your death and are now a traitor and no longer a hero?" It was a question full of twists and turns. He'd like to see her weave her way out of this one. His smile deepened as he watched her.
She took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly into the microphone. He could see her squint slightly as the spotlights from the cambots all turned and focused completely on her.
"People are going to believe what they believe. There's nothing I can do to change that. All I can say is disappearing for two years was not my choice." She lifted her hands up defensively into the air as a flourish of questions and chatter filled the space.
"All right, all right." The reporter lifted his hands into the air and then lowered them slowly, beckoning people to calm and fall silent.
"Next question: There have been rumors that you are using your time, status, and thousands of creds to do personal favors for your crew instead of helping the galaxy. Is this true?"
Shepard shook her head. "No."
The man cleared his throat. "Then how do you explain the rumors?"
Shepard lifted a single shoulder. "They're rumors. That needs no explanation."
The man began to pace back and forth a few steps on each side of his chair. "Some say you murder in cold blood. Some even say your vessel harbors ruthless killers and criminals running from certain law enforcements. What do you have to say for yourself on this topic?"
Shepard looked over at the male reporter as she answered. "That some people have shoddy references. On top of that they don't have the whole story before stooping to believe in half-truths." A trickle of sweat ran down Shepard's forehead and got caught in her brow.
"One more inquiry, Commander Shepard, and I'll turn the questions over to these brilliant reporters who are so anxious to speak to their hero." He swept a hand out and over the crowd in a wide, arrogant gesture.
"There have been whispers among some well-informed circles, which include both scientists and doctors, who agree you're pregnant. Who's the father?"
At this a unanimous gasp of exhilaration and astonishment filled the room. Shepard pressed a few fingertips to her forehead in exhaustion. The volume level in the occupied room was rising by the minute as reporters began screaming questions at her. Flashes of light from the cambots and people's datapads were relentless.
The reporter just stood there with a sly smile on his groomed countenance. He was completely swollen with pride. He had made a million creds tonight, easy.
He looked down to his terminal. An incoming message was on his screen blinking and waiting for him. His eyes snaked over the sender's name. Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani. He tapped on his mic once to turn it off and snorted toward the illuminated screen on his terminal. He was so much bigger now than some low-down, dirt digging Westerlund News reporter.
He turned to the crowd and waved politely at the numerous cameras and blinding lights that occasionally focused on him.
He tugged on his cuffs of his sleeves to put them back in a comfortable position before turning and looking back at Shepard.
The crowd still roared with questions in front of them as she held her head in her hands.
He smirked, his lips curling in devilish delight.
Shepard had it coming and she didn't even know it.