Deus Ex Machina

1. The Road

AD 2177

Day One

The room was small and dark. The sharp tang of disinfectant permeated the air. Machines beeped regularly at different tones and pitches, singing a song that told trained ears that all was well with the patient. When one of the machines sang out of tune, interrupting the harmony of the composition, a hand turned a dial, altering the dosage of medication, and the machine sang in tune once more.

On the single gurney in the small dark room lay a woman. Her blue eyes were wide open but unfocused, unseeing, her face framed by messy brown hair. Her breathing was slow and deep, her blinking carefully timed as if she was controlling it consciously. Clad in white medical slacks, she lay curled in the foetal position, oblivious to the thin white sheet that was only partially covering her body. Tubes were attached to her body via needles, inserted into her arms and legs where the veins were thickest. They connected to bags and containers, some feeding fluids into her body, others removing waste from her blood-stream.

The figure standing behind the machine controls was tall, and he wore a white coat. On his left arm was a medical omni-tool, currently deactivated until it was required. And, as he listened to the song of the machines and turned the dials whenever one of them faltered, a second man approached him.

"Doctor," said the second man. "How's she doing?"

"A little better. I've healed most of the physical damage, but it's still a little too early to tell how this will affect her mentally."

"Do you know what's wrong with her? Why she's like... this?" He gestured at the unseeing woman.

"Acute stress reaction. I've seen it before, but I've never seen anybody this bad."

"Are you sure she's not comatose? I've seen men comatose with their eyes open before. Waking-comas. That's what you people call it, right?"

"Quite sure, General. I've analysed her brain-wave patterns. They're quite obviously lacking in delta-waves. She's definitely awake."

"Maybe we just need to give her a little more time. It's only been five days since we extracted her from Akuze. I was told by the marines who pulled her out that the rest of her squad had been slaughtered. It's a horrific thing to see, even for soldiers."

"Right now, that might be our only option. I can pump her full of drugs and gel until she's overflowing, but it's not going to make her come around any faster. For the moment, we have to let her work out everything in her head. When she's come to terms with everything that's happened to her, she'll talk."

"I'll be in my office. Keep me apprised of her status."

"Of course, General."

The second man left, and the first turned his attention back to the song of the medical machines.

Day Four

The ambient temperature in the room never changed. It was always 295K, carefully monitored by the facility's Environmental Control System. It was also responsible for mimicking daylight; based on the 24-hour Earth day cycle, the EVS gradually increased or decreased the intensity of the facility's lighting. But there were no seasons here. Dawn was always at 05:30, and dusk was always at 22:00, regardless of the time of year.

The room was light, now, indicating that it was close to midday. The woman on the gurney was sitting upright, ignoring the untouched tray of bland hospital food on the table beside her. An orderly had brought the tray two hours ago, and she had not touched it. Her appetite was non-existent, and she drank only water, and only when her body requested it.

Most of the needles and tubes had been removed from her arms and legs. Now there was only a single drip, feeing into her left arm, and electro-pads attached to her chest, hooked up to an ECG. On the screen beside the bed, she could watch her own heart rate. Sometimes she held her breath and watched it increase to compensate for the lower levels of oxygen in her blood. Sometimes she took slow, deep breaths, flooding her body with air, watching her heart-rate slow. Whenever the machine beeped too fast or too slow, a nurse or a doctor appeared to give her a stern, disapproving glare when they found her conscious and well. It was one of the ways she entertained herself. One of the ways to keep her mind off Azuke.

The door of the room swished open, and a doctor entered, his long white lab coat swirling around him. He was what she had come to think of as a typical doctor; tall, middle-aged, with just a light scattering of grey showing in his dark hair. His only possession was an omni-tool on his left arm. It was a medical model, therefore not one that she was familiar with.

A nurse and two orderlies followed the doctor into the room. The latter waited beside the door, whilst the nurse stepped to the doctor's side, a datapad in her hands, ready to take notes.

"Good morning, Eloise," the doctor smiled. "Do you remember who I am?"

"Yes. Doctor Ferry. You've introduced yourself every day since I was brought here. Is there some reason I shouldn't remember you?"

"You seem in much better humour today," he observed, ignoring her question as he activated his omni-tool and scanned her body. "But I see you haven't eaten your food. Why is that?"

"Because it looks like crap and it smells like crap."

"The food that we provide to patients is designed to convey all nutritional needs in one meal," said the nurse with a smile.

"Do you eat it?"

"Well... no..."

"Then I don't see why I should."

"Eloise," said Dr Ferry, examining the readings on his omni-tool, "Your seratonin and dopamine levels are low. When was the last time you slept? I mean really slept, for a few hours or more?"

"You're the doctor, you tell me."

"Patient's irritability caused by low levels of seratonin and dopamine. Suggest supplements if no improvements in two days time," said Ferry to the nurse. She duly recorded the notes, her fingers flicking over the screen of the pad with the ease of familiarity. "Well Eloise, I think it's time for a move. We're going to take you to the main recovery ward."

"I like it here."

"I'm sure you do, but this is a trauma unit. We brought you here to treat you, but now you're almost as good as new, and the unit needs to be freed up in case of other emergencies. Now, the orderlies here are going to wheel you down to Recovery, and I'll be along shortly to make sure you're settled in. I think we can take these off, now."

He reached out and took the pads from her chest, beneath the white medical shirt, and untaped the drip from her arm before extracting the needle. The omni-gel that her body had been flooded with quickly worked to seal up the tiny hole in her arm that the needle left behind. The ECG was switched off, and the room fell silent.

Dr Ferry nodded at the orderlies, then left with the nurse in tow, no doubt to write up reports for the Alliance brass. Or maybe to come up with more 'treatments' for her. If she was really lucky, they might even be planning to provide her with better food.

The orderlies worked quickly to unhook the gurney from the locks in the floor, and before she knew it she was being wheeled down long corridors. Out here, the smell of disinfectant was even stronger, as if somebody had liberally doused the place in it. What kind of hospital was this? She saw no other patients and no other doctors as she was wheeled along the corridors. There were doors leading off to rooms, but they were numbered, not named.

The orderlies pushed her gurney through a pair of double swinging doors, and she found herself in a large room. Empty beds lined walls opposite each other, with screens separating them. This large room was as bright as hers had been; except for one corner, which was in darkness. It was to this corner that the orderlies took her, putting her in the bed beside the dark-screened cubicle.

"Brought a room-mate for you, Private," one of the orderlies said as they flipped the brakes on her bed's wheels, fixing it into place.

"Fantastic." The voice from the darkness was pained and male.

"Another insomniac, like you," the other orderly chuckled. "Misery loves company, right?"

"Right."

"The Doc will be along in a few," said the first orderly, turning to her. "Take it easy, Serviceman."

When the two men left, Eloise looked around the room. The screens to her left and right separated her from the cubicles on either side of her. Across the other side of the room, she could see other empty beds, and noticed a curtain that could be pulled down from the ceiling at the foot of her bed, closing her off from the beds opposite, if she wanted total privacy.

All of the beds had tables beside them, and a chair for a visitor -- or possibly nurse or doctor -- to sit at. What kind of hospital had so many empty beds? She had only been in one other hospital before, on Earth, and that one had been jam-packed with people. The patients had outnumbered the doctors and nurses, who spent most of their time looking tired and harassed. Clearly this place was nothing like that. Nobody had deigned to tell her where she was, but perhaps this was her opportunity to find out.

"You can't sleep either?" she asked aloud.

"That's right. Been two days for me. How long for you?"

"I don't know. I don't really know how long I've been here for. Before that I was on a mission. I was injured. I don't even know how they got me off the planet."

"Injured badly?"

"I... can't remember. I think so. But Dr Ferry thinks I'm pretty much recovered now."

"What are you in for?"

"I'm not sure."

"Check your data-chart. It's at the foot of your bed."

Obligingly, she crawled on her hands and knees to the foot of the bed, looking over the end until she found a datapad attached to the side. She flipped through the pages, her fingers drifting over the arrows to turn the pages of her notes. Most of it was undecipherable medical-babble.

"Here's something," she said, finding a reference to herself. "'Patient suffered from broken arm and shattered pelvis. Damage repaired but patient kept under observation for PTSD.' What does that mean?"

"PTSD? That's post-traumatic stress disorder. You must have been through something pretty bad, for them to suspect you have PTSD." The voice sounded somewhat impressed.

"What are you in for?" she asked, directing the conversation away from her ordeal.

"Headaches."

"They put you in hospital for headaches?"

"They're a little more serious than headaches," said Dr Ferry, appearing from nowhere. He took the pad from her hands as she tried to smother the look of guilt she felt cross her face. He simply put the pad back at the foot of the bed, then walked around the screen to the next cubicle. "And how are we feeling today, Kaidan?"

"We're just fine, Doctor Ferry. I'm ready to return to duty. In fact, I haven't felt this good in years. Must be all the excellent care I get here."

"Hmm." There was the beeping sound of an active omni-tool at work. "Your body is still producing endorphins. Still reacting to pain. Now, I understand your desire to leave here, but you know full well that if you leave before the migraine has passed, you'll only make it worse and I'll be seeing you again tomorrow."

"But Evals are..."

"I know when Evals are, but you won't be penalised for this. I'll make sure the assessors know that you had genuine reason for missing the first sessions. You can catch up later, after your team assessments."

"Right." The man in the cubicle beside her sighed in defeat.

Doctor Ferry appeared again, stepping into her cubicle to run his omni-tool over her body. She never liked being on this side of one. People were supposed to be behind an O-T, not in front of one.

"As for you, Eloise... you've no doubt read from your chart that the physical damage to your body has been repaired, but I'm scheduling a series of counselling sessions for you."

"I don't need counselling."

"I disagree. You've gone through a major trauma, and though I can fix the damage to your body, I can't help your mind to heal. Besides, the media got wind of your mission. They're calling you a hero. 'The Hero of Akuze'. We've already had to turn away several journalists. A counsellor can help you come to terms with the lime-light... and advise you on how to deal with all the attention you'll be getting. I'd also like you to eat the meals you're brought. I know it's not what you'd like, but until you start eating, we'll have to keep you in. And if you don't eat, we'll have to put you back on intravenous feeding. Or maybe put a feeding tube into your stomach. You don't want that, do you?"

"No Doctor Ferry," she intoned, feeling like a child replying to a teacher.

"Good. Now try to get some sleep. That goes for both of you. I'll come back tomorrow to check on you again. If you need anything, press the call button." He indicated a round, red button on the wall behind her. "See you in the morning."

The doctor's footsteps were silent as he left, the only indication that he had moved was the swishing of the double doors. She waited for a count of sixty, listening carefully to the sounds around her. It wouldn't surprise her if the doctor had crept back to eavesdrop on her, to spy on her.

"The food in here's pretty dire, but you really should eat it. He's serious when he says he'll keep you in or put you on a feeding tube."

"Why do you care?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at the screen to her right, where the cubicle's occupant lay in darkness.

"We soldiers have got to stick together, right? We've got to look out for each other."

"How do I know you're even a soldier? For all I know you're Ferry's counsellor, and he left you here to try to get me to 'open up' or whatever."

"Right. I'm faking migraines just so I can miss Evals and have the pleasure of talking to you."

"Why else would you be hiding behind that screen?"

"I'm not hiding. The light sends terrible shooting pains into my brain. Dim your light and I'll gladly get rid of the screen."

She reached up to the light on the wall above her, her fingers manipulating the dial as the light began to dim. When she'd dimmed it enough, the screen slid backwards, into the wall. On the bed beside her lay a young man, lying prone with his head resting on his folded arms as a pillow. He squinted when the dim light of her lamp reached his dark eyes, and she could see lines of pain painting his face. Even lying down, she could tell that he had a few inches height on her, and probably a couple of years age.

"Kaidan? Is that your name?" she asked, remembering Doctor Ferry's words.

"Kaidan Alenko, Private First Class, N7 Marines. Definitely not a psychologist. And you're... Eloise?"

"Serviceman Second Class, Eloise Shepard. I prefer Ellie. Also not a psychologist."

"Nice to put a face to the voice. No offence, but you look like you could use some sleep."

"None taken. Where am I, Kaidan?"

"Arcturus Station. The N7 training facility. We have one of the best hospitals in the Alliance. Probably because of the... occupational hazards."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that marines often get hurt during training, and we need the best doctors to patch us up and let us keep fighting the good fight."

"And you're really in here for headaches?"

"Like the Doctor said, it's a little more serious than headaches. Migraines, mostly. Extreme sensitivity to light, and sometimes sound. Dizziness, nausea... still, I'm one of the lucky ones. Most people with L2 implants end up with irreparable brain damage."

"You're a..." she hesitated over the next word.

"Biotic? Yeah. We're not the monsters that the media makes us out to be. Don't worry about it, everyone is a little wary at first. Can't say I really blame them. I'd be worried about me too, the way the media reports so vehemently about biotic extremists and their terrorist activities."

"You're here to train as a marine?"

"That's right. I may be a biotic, but I don't want that to define who I am. And there's no rule barring biotics from enlisting. Providing I pass my Evals later this week, I'll pass with the rank of Corporal."

"Good luck."

"Thanks. Do you mind if we don't talk for a bit? I'm at the 'sound causes pain' part of my migraine."

"Of course. I'll let you rest."

She settled down into her bed as Kaidan closed his eyes and buried his head in his arms. She wished she could do the same. But every time she closed her eyes, images flashed across her mind. Images of Akuze. Images that she wanted to forget. And during the brief periods that she had actually managed to find sleep, nightmares awaited her, waking her within moments. If she had it her way, she would never sleep again.

Day Five

"It looks like a night of rest did you good, Kaidan. Your endorphin levels are down to normal. Looks like you won't miss Evals after all."

"Thanks, Doctor," said Kaidan, relief evident in his voice. He jumped off the bed and stopped beside Ellie, flashing her a smile as he pulled on his jacket. "You take care of yourself, Shepard. Maybe I'll see you around some time."

"Yeah. Good luck, Kaidan. I hope you kick ass."

"Did you manage to sleep last night, Eloise?" asked Ferry as Kaidan left the room with a spring in his step.

"No. But I did eat the stuff that you're trying to pass off as food. It made me want to puke."

"Your digestive system's reaction to solid food. You've been on intravenous liquid for the past few days. You'll find it easier to eat food, the more you try."

"Unless I throw it all up."

"I doubt that. Now, are you ready for your first counselling session?"

"No."

"Wonderful. Come with me, and I'll introduce you to our psychologist."

With no other choice, she followed him out of the room and down a series of corridors, punctuated by sharp turns and confusing junctions. It was almost as if somebody had designed this place simply to confuse its inhabitants. And, as with her journey down to the recovery ward, she saw no other patients and no other doctors.

The room Ferry took her to was large and less clinical than the recovery ward. There were plants sitting in pots on desks, and even a songbird in a large aviary at the far side of the room. The main feature of the place was a large, half-rectangular sofa, made of brown leather and with a brown teak table nestled beside it. A woman, with long blond hair and dressed in casual black and grey clothes, was seated on the sofa, but she stood when Doctor Ferry entered the room.

"Eloise, this is Doctor Angela Kay, our psychologist and counsellor. Doctor Kay wants to help you come to terms with everything that's happened to you recently. She's an expert in her field, and has treated hundreds of people from all walks of life," said Ferry.

"Welcome, Eloise," Dr Kay smiled. "Why don't you take a seat, and we can have a little talk over a drink."

"I'll leave the two of you alone," said Ferry, leaving and closing the door behind him.

"Would you prefer tea or coffee?" Kay asked. She sat down on the sofa beside the table and poured herself a cup of tea.

"Neither. I just had breakfast. It's my first day back on solids and I don't think my stomach could handle anything else."

"That's understandable. Won't you take a seat?"

"Thank you, but I prefer to stand." She had automatically taken up an at-ease military stance, standing straight, her legs apart, her arms behind her back as if preparing to make a report.

"Alright. Will you tell me a little about yourself?"

"Everything I can tell you is in my file, which you've no doubt already read and analysed."

"That's true, but reading words and hearing a first-hand account from someone are two entirely different things, as you probably know."

"Look, Doctor, I appreciate your concern, but I don't want you poking around inside my head, and I don't need a friend."

"You're an Engineer. It's your job to take something that is broken and put it back together again. That's no different to what I do."

"Is that what I am? Broken?"

"That's what I'm here to find out. Why don't we start at the beginning?"

"The beginning isn't the best part. Why don't we start in the middle?"

"If you're handed a broken weapon and told to fix it, do you strip it down only half way? Or do you take it apart completely to search for the broken component?"

"Don't compare your job to mine. It's not the same. Ask your damn questions."

"I understand that you were orphaned as a child? That you grew up in the New Kingston orphanage in London?"

"That's right."

"Tell me a little about it. What was it like?"

"It was like an orphanage. You really have to see one for yourself."

"I'd like you to try to describe it for me. Tell me what it was like for you, as a child. What you saw, what you heard, what you smelt."

"It was large, full of kids, some of them orphaned during the First Contact War. Some like me, who were simply left on the doorstep by their parents with the clichéd note pinned to them. I shared a room with five other girls, all similar in age to me. Though the administrators tried their best to keep order, the orphanage was often a lawless place, with older kids picking on younger kids."

"Were you ever picked on?"

"Of course. But I was smart enough to make friends with a couple of older kids. I'd run errands for them, spy on other kids for them, fetch them things from the shops, cover up their lies for them."

"And when you were older, you also helped the younger children, protecting them from some of the older bullies. Because you had been in their position yourself, you could empathise with them. You wanted to help them."

"See, I told you you'd already psycho-analysed my profile."

"How old were you when you joined in the gang warfare that went on beneath the London metropolis?"

"I didn't join, I was conscripted. It was comply or die."

"How old were you?"

"Fourteen."

"And how did it happen?"

"I was working part-time in a restaurant. Not a fancy place, but good enough that they vetted everyone they employed. I just collected empty plates and took them back to the kitchen for washing. One day whilst I was working there, coming to the end of my shift, the Blood-dog Gang hit it hard. They'd heard about another gang's drop-off... ket cut with eezo, and they thought they could sell it at a higher price and use the money to buy more weapons to seize control of the area. When the drop didn't happen, they thought they'd rob the place instead.

"When they left, they took three hostages, and I was one of them. The other two were middle-class women with husbands rich enough to provide a mediocre ransom. The law pursued us all the way back to their hide-out. Once we were there, we settled in for a fire-fight. Only, it turned out the Blood-dogs had good reason to want better weapons... theirs were on the verge of falling apart. I offered to fix them, in exchange for letting the other two hostages go. They agreed. I fixed their weapons, they released the other hostages, and using smoke grenades I'd fashioned from old parts, they made their escape, taking me with them. They decided my skills would come in useful, and decided to keep me on."

"It was an interesting negotiation that you managed. You saved the lives of those hostages, of that I have no doubt. But at the expense of your own freedom. And you also helped to re-arm a criminal gang. That sort of sympathy can land a person in trouble with the law."

"Don't start with the analytical bullshit again. I know what you people call it... 'Stockholm Syndrome'. That wasn't why I helped the Blood-dogs. I did it because I had the chance to leave my old life behind. To improve my skills, to get away from the orphanage with its rules and regulations and curfews. Put it down a rebellious teenage phase, if you like. Besides, once the Blood-dogs realised the kind of skill I had, they didn't want to risk me going over to one of their enemy gangs. They didn't give me much of a choice."

"But you did have a choice, and you chose to leave the gang, even leave Earth, to join the military. You enlisted when you were eighteen, starting out as a simple military technician. Your commanding officers quickly realised that you weren't being challenged enough. They recommended that you undertake combat training, and since passing your training you've been working as an Engineer, providing support to Alliance ground units. But tell me... how did you acquire your interest in tech in the first place? What sparked your desire to fix things?"

"I've always liked fixing things. I've always had a knack for it. When I was in the orphanage, the other kids would bring me their broken toys. It was another way that I made friends. Another way to keep the older kids off my back."

"About what happened on Akuze--"

"I've made my report already. I have nothing more to add."

"I would like to talk about it."

"I wouldn't."

"Very well. But at some point, you're going to have to come to terms with what happened. There is something I'd like to try. Hypno-therapy. I can take you back there, to relive events, to help come to terms with them, but you have to be willing."

"No," she said firmly. "I'm not going back to Akuze. Not physically, not in my head. And I'll die before I let you take me back there."

"Very well. Perhaps we'll speak more tomorrow. I think that we've made progress today. I'll ask one of the orderlies to take you back to the recovery ward, but I'd like you to try to get some sleep."

"Right. Sleep. I'll do that."

Day Seven

The recovery ward was silent. Since Kaidan had left, two days ago, there had been no other personnel admitted to the ward. It was hardly a surprise, though. The marines were currently undergoing Evals, being tested on their skills, their abilities, their knowledge. They weren't going through their normal training regime, so the risk to them was much less.

Lying on her gurney beneath the dim light of the lamp, Ellie was restless. She didn't like being in the hospital. There was nobody to talk to. Nothing to do. Alone, with only her thoughts for company, her mind dwelt on the past. On Akuze.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw it again. She heard the screams of her squad as they were torn apart by the huge thresher maws. She felt the terror anew, and cried fresh tears for her squad-mates. But the tears were as much for herself as they were for her fellow soldiers. Nobody could know. Nobody could ever discover the terrible secret that she carried inside. If they knew that the death of her squad was on her hands, that she was responsible for their loss, that it was all her fault, they would court-martial her and toss her to the media as a pariah.

"Good morning, Eloise," said Doctor Ferry, gliding silently across the ward to stand by her bed. "How are you feeling today?"

"Fine. When can I get out of here? I want to get back to duty."

"It's not quite that easy. We have to find a new post for you... somewhere to reassign you. But before we can do that, we have to know that you're well enough to return to active duty."

"I am well enough."

"Why don't you let your doctors be the judge of that? Speaking of which, Doctor Kay wants to see you again. Are you ready for another session?"

"I already told you, I don't need counselling."

"Splendid," he said, ignoring her entirely. "Come along with me."

She had no choice but to obey him. He didn't have a rank, but he was an Alliance military doctor. In matters of medical care, even Admirals had to obey him. So she followed him down the silent, sterile white corridors, and wondered how she could convince the psychologist to release her from Arcturus.

"Hello again, Eloise," said Doctor Kay, when Ferry had shown her into the room and left the pair alone again. "I'm sorry I didn't get chance to see you yesterday, but I have quite a busy schedule."

"Fine by me, Doctor," she said, taking a seat on the sofa when it was offered to her, though she turned down the offer of a drink.

"I would like to talk about something different today," Kay smiled, and for a moment Ellie despised her bubbly, care-free personality, her shining blonde hair, her perfect smile framing polished white teeth. There was just something inherently fake about the doctor. Not something that she could put into words, but a general feeling that Kay was more intelligent than her, that the woman knew that she could get into her head.

"Alright."

"How do you feel about aliens?"

"That question is ambiguous and loaded."

"How so?"

"Because firstly, the only aliens I've met have been Batarians, and they're usually dead almost as soon as I meet them. And secondly, because you can't judge an entire race or species on the actions of a few. I feel no differently about aliens than I do about my fellow humans; there are good, and there are bad."

"Yet you take pride in your work. You take pride in killing Batarians."

"No. I take pride in saving lives, in protecting our interests. I wish I didn't have to kill to do it. I wish the Batarians would just leave us the hell alone. If wishes were horses, as they say."

"You know, there were rumours that you and Serviceman Miguel Carrero were carrying on a relationship in secret."

"I don't give a damn about rumours."

"But if true, that would have meant that you were breaking military procedure."

"I'm sure it looked that way to some people, but Miguel and I were just friends. Close friends, but just friends."

"He came with you, didn't he? From Earth. He was in the same gang as you, and when you decided to leave, to enlist, you convinced him to come with you."

"That's right. He was a good man. He never liked the killing. He wanted to get away almost as much as I did."

"Tell me about him. Tell me a story about your time in the gang together."

"Miguel was a good person. A quiet man. He never wanted to join the gang. He only did it to look after his little brother, Marco. Marco was a rebel, and Miguel wanted to keep him out of trouble. The first time Miguel fired a gun to kill someone... he cried, after, when there was nobody but me around. He hated what he was becoming. He didn't want to enjoy killing people. But he wouldn't leave. He stayed for Marco."

"What made him decide to leave with you in the end?"

"I think he realised that his little brother didn't need him around. That Marco didn't even want him around, that he saw Miguel as someone holding him back. We went on a job together... a simple robbery. I was there to hack into one of those old hole-in-the-wall style credit machines. You know the types?"

"Yes, I've seen them in some cities on Earth."

"We did it late night, to minimise the chances of us being caught. Like I said, I was there to crack the machine. Marco and Miguel were my guards, my look-outs. They were supposed to warn me if anybody was coming, so that we could get away. And someone did come. A woman. I don't know what she was doing out there so late, in the middle of gang territory. It was a bloody no-man's land out there. Nobody should have been there. Marco thought she was an under-cover security officer. Instead of signalling us to flee, he shot her. But he didn't kill her. She lay there dying, begging for help, begging to be saved. When I tried to help her... Marco pulled his gun on me. He said that even though he'd get a mouth-full from the Blood-dog's leader for killing me, he wouldn't hesitate. The woman had seen our faces. She was a witness. She couldn't be allowed to live. I knew he would have done it. I knew he would have killed me right there and then. I could see it in his eyes."

"Here," said Kay, handing her a tissue. That was then she realised tears were spilling down her cheeks. Caught up in the memory, taken back to a time when she could see the anger and hatred in Marco's eyes, she had been oblivious to what her body was doing.

She wiped the tears from her eyes then blew her nose on the tissue, feeling angry with herself. The damn doctor had done it. She'd broken through and made her cry. She'd found a way inside her defences. Now she'd employ sympathy as a tool to weaken her further.

"How did it feel, to see that in a friend?" Kay asked gently.

"How do you think it felt? That's when I realised I had to get out. I don't know how Marco ended up like that. Maybe it was the drugs and the stims he was on. Maybe he got desensitised to the killing. Maybe he was always like that underneath, and being in the Blood-dogs simply brought it out. But when I looked into his eyes, I saw nothing. They were empty. Hollow. Soulless. I'd never seen that in a person before, and I haven't seen it since, not even in the eyes of the Batarians I've killed. That's when Miguel realised what his brother had become. That's when he realised he couldn't stay. It didn't take much for me to talk him into running away."

"Was it easy, to get away from your gang?"

"No. We had to time it to happen whilst most of the gang was out on a raid. I claimed I was sick, said I couldn't go. Miguel said he'd stay with me and take care of me. We had to kill two gang-members to get away, and we were terrified that we'd be followed the whole time. We didn't relax until we reached the recruitment office. As soon as we'd signed the dotted line, that's when we realised that we were finally free."

"An interesting perspective. Most people would see military life as restrictive. Constantly under orders, being told what to wear, where to go, what to do. The very opposite of freedom."

"It's never been like that for me. I'm here of my own free will. That is the true definition of freedom. I know that my orders will be beneficial to humanity... hopefully to the galaxy. If I'm not happy, I can quit at any time. On Earth, I was never anything but caged. Our here, serving, I'm always free."

"Do you feel guilty over Miguel's death?"

"Of course I feel guilty," she said hotly, feeling tears springing unbidden into her eyes. "If it wasn't for me, if I hadn't talked him into signing up, he'd still be alive. He'd be back on Earth, still in the gang, but he wouldn't have died. He wouldn't have suffered... that thresher ripped him apart. I can't get that image out of my head. How do you think it feels, to be responsible for that?"

"From what I'm told, you almost ended up the same way. You were the only member of your squad to survive... and you almost died blowing up the thresher that killed your team."

"I told you before, I'm not going back to Akuze. Stop trying to make me talk about it."

"Okay," said Kay, holding her hands up in reconciliation. "There will be time for that later. I think we'll end the session now. I'm glad to see you opening up a little. It's not healthy to bottle your emotions up. Everybody needs to talk about things from time to time... there's no shame in it. And you can tell me anything."

"But you can't promise confidentiality. Anything I say to you will go on my file."

"No, not everything. Only a general overview of your progress."

"I don't care. I don't trust you, and I never will. You'll have to keep me here forever, because I'm never going to talk to you about Akuze."

"We'll see," Kay smiled.

Day Twelve

"I don't think it's in your best interest to return to active duty," said Doctor Kay solemnly. Eloise felt her whole world come tumbling down. This couldn't be happening! The military was her life. If she couldn't serve, she had... nothing. She was nothing. She couldn't just go back to being a civilian. Not after everything that had happened. Not after Akuze.

"You... you're keeping me here longer?" she asked, fighting for breath.

"Yes. For a good couple of years, in fact."

"Years?"

"That's right. I put the paperwork through two days ago, and it's just been authorised. You're now officially enrolled onto the N7 Marine training program."

"What... me? Training as a marine?"

"That's right. As you know, we accept only the best, and I think you'll benefit from the training. It will be intensive, of course, and a challenge to you. After training, you'll be eligible for almost any mission, any posting. And the program will benefit from having you on it. What do you say?"

"I... I accept," she said, completely stunned. This was the last thing she had expected.

"I'm glad. We can also work together in further sessions during your stay here. You still have a lot of emotional baggage that I want to help you work through. But there's no need to hurry. Now, I'll have a change of clothes sent to your bed on the recovery ward, then I'll come along and show you to General Thomson's office. He'll be overseeing your training. Good luck, Serviceman Shepard; I'm sure you'll do us all proud."

Her mind numb, she walked on auto-pilot to the door, then stopped beside it.

"Doctor, I met one of the trainee marines in the recovery ward a week or so ago. Kaidan Alenko. Do you know how he got on with his Evals?"

"Yes, he passed with flying colours and has been assigned to his new unit," Kay smiled.

"I'm glad to hear it. I'll go and get changed now. And... thank you. For giving me this opportunity."

"You're welcome. Dismissed, Serviceman. Go and get changed out of those medical slacks... they really don't do a person justice."

Ellie closed the door behind her as she left, and walked back to the recovery ward. She knew the way, by now, and no longer required an orderly to escort her.

Her mind was buzzing as she dressed in the N7 trainee uniform that had been left on her gurney. In a way, she felt like a butterfly emerging from its chrysalis. This was a new chance for her. For five years she had served in the military, and never thought that she would be anything other than an engineer. Now, she was being given a new chance. Perhaps, with the training that she would receive here at Arcturus, she could even make up for her mistakes on Akuze.