The long hallway was filled with students mingled with teachers, superior officers, and other undergraduates alike. But the post-class crowd might as well not have been there for Jerry, who weaved his way through the bodies like he'd been doing it for years. If someone was feeling formal, as well as technical, as it had only been one year eleven months since he'd started people dodging, that someone could refer to him as Administrative Assistant Jerry Marlon Lyndon II. But most people who knew him just called him Jer, which was ok too.
His father had wanted him to join the Alliance and be a marine like he had during the First Contact War. But waking up to a father screaming his head off in the middle of the night in a PTSD fueled terror had scared any thought of military combat service out of him years ago. So after earning a GED, and with the help of a family friend, Jerry had snatched a job in the reserve at the United Northern American States Naval Academy. It hadn't made the old man as happy as joining the marines would have, but it had been good enough.
All that he needed to worry about these days until he'd finished his time was doing whatever little jobs the staff of the academy might need help with. Pushing papers, grading tests, coffee runs, and the occasional personnel pick-up. Nothing that would win him a medal of course, but he wouldn't be under fire anytime in the foreseeable future either.
He topped a wide stair case that brought him into a near empty hallway. With just a little searching he found the room he was looking for. He checked his uniform, making sure it was presentable. Toby had claimed this officer he was fetching was a real babe. Toby was also full of shit most of the time, usually about women he'd managed to get drunk enough to find his lying ass appealing. But who knew? Even a broken clock was right twice a day.
Putting on his second best kiss-officer-ass smile, as his best would have been too obvious, Jerry opened the door. "Commander? The shuttle-" His voice caught in his throat as blue eyes met his brown. A lone woman occupied the room, sitting at the end of a long conference table with a glowing data slate in hand. Golden blond hair framed an almost painfully beautiful face. But it was the intensity of her eyes. They hadn't just caught his stare, they'd snatched it out of the air and clamped down on it with an iron fist.
"The, umm, shuttle is- uh..." Realizing he was gawking, Jerry blinked and broke eye contact, looking anywhere but at the uniformed woman across the room. He swallowed as he felt his mouth go dry. How long had he been staring? A few seconds? A minute? More? "It's ready, I mean it's here! The shuttle you were waiting for. The one that was coming to pick you up that I'm suppose to take you to." He explained lamely, feeling his cheeks flush.
An uncomfortable silence filled the room that was only interrupted by the muted activity in the hallway or the distant sounds of training exercises outside. Several moments passed before the Jerry worked up the nerve to look back at the woman. She was still sitting there, unmoved, with scrolling data slate in hand. Her face was stoic and her eyes unblinking in crushing judgment. Paint her marble white and she'd do a good impression of a statue.
"Thank you. You're dismissed." She looked back to the data slate.
Jerry swallowed uncomfortably. "Ma'am? I'm under orders to accompany you to the shuttle pad."
"I think I'm capable enough to walk myself out." The Commander looked up to give him slightest of smiles, barely a twitching up of the corners of her mouth. Jerry nodded dumbly and nearly chuckled.
"Of course Commander. Good day Ma'am." He gave a nod and almost bowed before backing out of the room, keeping his eyes on the Commander until the door closed.
Commander Shepard dropped the data slate onto the table with a clatter and resisted the urge to run her hands through her hair. She'd become so engrossed going over some last minute details that when the aid had opened the door it had just about scared the hell out of her. Then she'd just sat there like a fool and wondered if he'd done it on purpose. At least she'd managed to keep her composure.
She shook her head in frustration at it all, causing some of her hair to fall out of place which she quickly fixed. Even now she could hear Anderson chuckling at her efforts. He had been opposed to humanities first Spectre being a beauty queen. But Udina and Admiral Hackett had overruled him. She had to be the shining star of the human race in as many ways as possible. Someone anyone and everyone could look up to. So if that meant a few corrective surgeries to get rid of the scars and being at the whim of a top notch beauty team, then so be it. Not that she minded the latter that much, but she did miss some of the scars. Several had been earned graduating from ICT and felt more like badges of honor than skin flaws.
Veronica sighed and stood to look out the window at the academy ground below. Future serviceman and marines moved about between the old buildings, some going from class to class while others engaged in training exercises. How many of them knew about her, she wondered.
"All of them of course." The devil on her shoulder chipped in, eager to stroke her ego. Veronica allowed herself a satisfied smirk, knowing the little fiend was right. Who in all honesty hadn't heard of her? The Hero of Elysium. The Killer of Torfan. The cream of the N7 crop. She had noble bloodline that could be traced all the way back to the days of Charlemagne and ancestors who had taken part in nearly every major conflict in human history.
But how soon would they know of her as a Spectre? Would it be days? Months? Years?
What if they never did?
No. She shouldn't even consider it. Too much effort had been taken, both by the Alliance and herself. So much training withstood. So many recourses spent. And all of it with a veil of secrecy so thorough it would have made the STG proud. She couldn't fail. It just wasn't possible.
Veronica checked herself in the window, making sure her hair was right and her uniform wrinkle free. "Better get going then." She told her reflection in an effort to calm herself. Putting her self dubbed 'serious face' back on she grabbed her data slate, vacated the room and made for the stairs.
As she neared the exit she tried not to take too much pride in how people moved so readily out of her way. Most did it out of respect. Several students actually saluted her. Some did it out of fear, seeing her N7 insignia. She took note of a handful of yearning gazes and resisted the urge to smile. Just because she wasn't on the market didn't mean she couldn't appreciate some compliments.
Exiting the building she made the short trek to the landing pads where a shuttle marked with the System Alliance log waited. An armored soldier saluted her as she neared and signaled for the pilot to prep for takeoff. Boarding it she took a seat in the empty passenger compartment and strapped in. She waited for the muted gee's to signal they were away before reactivating the data slate. The Council had sent a Spectre to grade her, see if she was up to snuff.
Veronica brought up his service record, Nihlus was his name, and started going over the information for what was likely the fiftieth time. But she didn't get far. Lowering the slate she looked around and wished the shuttle had some sort of window to look out of. This might be her last chance to get a good look at Earth for some time. She berated herself for not trying to take a tour of Annapolis while she had the chance. The city had a rich history and she'd heard the theaters and museums weren't sights to be passed up.
Giving a tired sigh she looked back to the data slate. Maybe another time she could take some shore leave and waste a day or two looking around. Perhaps even take a tour of the capital while she was at it. But right now there was nothing to think about but how to get on Nihlus's good side without tipping him off that she'd already memorized every sentence of his service record.
Thumbing over the details, Veronica rubbed her forehead as she once again made sure she had the details straight. Born outside Hierarchy space. Joined the Turian military at 16. Joined the Spectres after apprenticing for a year under Saren Arter-
The improvised explosive device surgically implanted into the lower torso of the copilot detonated, setting off the transporters fuel supply. The shuttle fell from the sky, a burning fireball, into the cold waters of the Chesapeake bay below.