Part 1. The Last Battle. Prologue
"Do you know how men can be so obsessed by love that they are deaf and blind to everything else in the world? They are as little their own masters as the slaves chained to the benches of a galley." W. Somerset Maugham "The Moon and Sixpence"
"Anyone who wants to get out of combat duty isn't really crazy." Joseph Heller "Catch-22"
—An unwonted eerie silence hung over the battlefield. The smell of smoke was gone. The sounds of gunfire, the orders of commanders, and the groans of the wounded and dying had died away. At first it was a bit confusing, as though a loud unpleasant music had suddenly subsided, bringing intolerable silence. This music had become an integral part of the lives of all who'd been listening to it for such a long time. The silence was worse because no one yet knew what to do with it or how to live further.
The thing was that the armistice had ended the war. To some people - to ordinary soldiers mostly - it seemed to be a desecration of the memory and sacrifices of those who'd lost their lives defending the interests of their people; to others it seemed a sign of weakness. The majority of them still thought it was for the best though, because now they could go back home and reunite with their families. The representatives of the high command of the warring parties had their own view of things, but shouldn't they think broadly and globally, understanding that the bloodshed had long since became meaningless? Why didn't they stop this war earlier? Why not immediately after it started? Why now, when the Citadel Council intervened? Where had those politicians been during five years of heavy fighting for every scrap of land on so many planets? Who gave them right to say that the war started because of a misunderstanding?
Humans had activated an inactive mass relay - known as Relay 314 - due to ignorance and, instead of negotiating, the Turians had opened fire. Did not the Citadel Council know that five years ago? If they did, why did they adhere so closely to the principle of non-interference? Maybe this war had lasted as long as it did because it served someone's purposes, and the intergalactic society saw humanity as a threat to their well-being too late.
However, there were those who did not care about any of these things. Those who used the war for personal gain and who were infuriated by the unexpected truce.
"They ordered us to retreat! The truce was proclaimed!" the dark-haired man yelled, trying to drag a redheaded commando into a shuttle bearing the Alliance Navy insignia. "You can't disobey a direct order from high command!"
Their bodies glowed with biotic energy as tempers rose. A moment later the commando threw a big, wide right hook that caught him on the jaw.
"Fuck your high command and your Alliance, Lieutenant! This is my mission! I am in charge here!" she cried, her green eyes blazing with anger. The Lieutenant knew that putting her out of temper never ended well for anyone, especially for him.
The man grimaced rubbing his bruised jaw with his free hand - his commander was good at bruising people's faces - and sighed, thinking how to make her see reason. He'd studied the pretty redheaded bitch for the last five years, and being a very reasonable person, he very quickly came to the conclusion that he should not even try to do the impossible.
"All right, stay." He let go of her left hand. "In the end, you're a civilian now, and your contract with the military ended when the war did. But who are you going to fight, Commander? The enemies withdrew."
Another woman, who'd been watching them with annoyance since their fight started, stepped out of the shuttle. Her irritation didn't go unnoticed by the marines inside the shuttle.
She gave the redhead a contemptuous glance and spit out, "Leave her alone, Lieutenant. She's just pissed because she did not have time to kill her dearest Turian or get into his pants. She'd make a good Turian whore!" Muffled giggles were heard from the shuttle.
"He's not mine, Williams," the commando said clearly barely restraining herself from hitting another of her former subordinates. She managed, however, to keep her voice steady, as was typical of high-ranking officers. "How dare you?"
"Ashley," the Lieutenant reproached, "have some respect."
One of the men in the shuttle whistled and cat-called, "Looks like a good old-fashioned catfight's coming! Show Williams who's the boss, Commander! Do not interfere, Lieutenant! Let the girls have some fun."
"I can kick your ass too, Jenkins!" the redhead yelled, and more muffled laughter erupted from the shuttle.
Everyone who served with them knew that Sergeant Williams hated Commander Jane Shepard for some reason. But they could only guess why. Maybe because the Commander had had a more successful military career, despised everything but the fight, or maybe it was a banal jealousy because Lieutenant Alenko had feelings for Shepard not Williams. Again, they could only guess.
After the laughter had subsided, the redheaded commando turned to face Williams and spoke, this time her voice held ill-concealed hatred, "How dare you say something like that to me?"
"How dare I? And who are you exactly? Technically you are no longer an Alliance soldier. Yes, you were in charge of most of the missions, and I obeyed your orders, but now the war is over. You are not my Commander anymore," Williams proclaimed in disgust. "I don't care that you're one of the best N7 commandos! I really don't! If not for this damn war with the Turians, no one could persuade you to cooperate. You're obsessed with them, aren't you? You're a pathetic mercenary! Thank God, your contract expired. There's no place for someone like you in the Alliance military!"
"Envy is a sin, so shut up, Williams. At least the high command takes my opinion into account from time to time," the commando smirked.
Williams snorted and stepped into the shuttle. The commando turned and walked, with a steady stride, away from the landing zone. The dark-haired man watched her for a long time with evident regret.
"Leave this crazy Rakta alone, Kaidan, for your own good," Williams told him, and soon the Lieutenant reluctantly went inside the shuttle. "Nobody can persuade her to return to the Alliance military. They almost begged her to join when the war began. She has always hated the rules and serving under someone's command. Psycho…"
***The smiling sniper watched through his rifle scope as the last enemy shuttle departed. Then watched the redheaded commando standing with hands on her hips and angrily examining the empty battlefield. The Turian could not kill her right now as it would have terrible consequences for newly reconciled warring parties.
The woman sighed and kicked a container.
The Turian smiled again. She'd stayed behind to blow off some steam. Well in her own way. He had no doubt that she would because he'd studied her all too well during the war, and still he was in no hurry to give himself away. It gave him great pleasure to watch his opponent driving herself into a frenzy.
Ratka*. His fellow soldiers had given her that name because of her red fringe and merciless combat style. It was a very old name for Palaven's sun, ruthless and hot.
Besides, the sniper had heard rumours that humans gave her the nickname "Psycho". It meant "mad", "violent", "mental", "crazy", and he quite agreed that it suited her too.
Here was a clear proof of that.
Dark energy surrounded her as she lifted a heavy container and threw it into the air. It shattered into pieces; when it fell to the ground. Another one followed, and then another.
If he were a human he'd have whistled in amazement, but being a Turian he only laughed, a deep sound vibrating within his chest.
Using her biotic powers the redheaded commando continued to destroy the barricades for about an hour. Then she sat down on the ground, with her knees drawn up and hid her face in her hands.
The Turian even felt a little sorry for Rakta. The feeling passed quickly; and the temptation to shoot her became almost irresistible. He lovingly ran his finger along the curve of the trigger.
To hell with the truce... But the Turian didn't want to cause more bloodshed and deaths that would have followed the assassination of his opponent. It was one thing to take Rakta's life in battle, and completely different to shoot her, just like that, when she least expected it. After all, he was a soldier, and not a pathetic merc.
In a battle, huh? The sniper smiled, as an idea crossed his mind. He turned his omnitool on and typed a few lines. Then attached a holographic map of star system to the message.
"I'm still here. That barricades wrecking was impressive, Rakta. I know you want closure. The map shows the coordinates of the place where we can do it right."
He sent the message and continued to watch the woman through the scope of his rifle. When she got his message she stared at her omnitool in disbelief for some time before pulling her gun out and disappearing behind the only unbroken container.
Soon the Turian got a reply message, and they started corresponding.
"How do I know it is you? And how have you managed to contact me?"
"Choose the mark and I will prove that it's me. As to how I managed to contact you. We do proper reconnaissance, and have better equipment than you, pathetic human."
"According to my omnitool, you're far enough. I'll throw my pauldron without warning as far as I can using my biotics. Be on the alert, Turian."
A few minutes later a bullet-pierced piece of armor lay on the ground.
"Well? Do you accept my offer, Rakta? By the way, have you seen the shuttle? Looks like your Admiral, himself, is here."
"Of course, I accept, Turian. Now run, while you can, or I may forget about this idiotic truce."
"Do not kill your Admiral, Psycho."
"Fuck you. I'll save my bullets for you."
_* Rakta - "red" in Sanskrit.
