W/N - Arigato gozaimasu again. The effect that I'm trying to create is to show that Shepard is both a warrior and a lover. :P I like putting in the details of the battle scenes to show that she knows what she's doing on the battlefield and that she's truly a naval officer. That being said, it's time for some love detail. :D This one ends on a somewhat sinister note, setting up the events of ME2. Oh, and for the military funeral scene, go to You Tube and play "Flowers of the Forest." No dry eyes there. Also, working on ME, the Musical with a mind towards ME2, 2 Musical 4 U.
Other Malarkey - Great weekend of athletic and martial arts mayhem. Worked on the Iaido Eishin-Ryu Okuden set from Kasumi through Itomagoi. Even did the super secret Bangai "Demonslayer" set. The Force...I mean Mu Shin was with me.
Hajime!
Eye of the Hurricane – 23 December 2183 – 0300 GMT
Claire Shepard pulled the sheets of the bed around her body and breathed in the soft aroma of the fabric, feeling the texture with her skin. It sure beat the heck out of the rack aboard the Normandy even if that was the CO's quarters. And that was a kilometer and a half better than those ungodly bunks in the crew's quarters where you shared a rack with some other schlub. She parted her lips and sighed softly.
She could feel a comfortable warmth near her in the bed and she reached her hand behind her to touch bare skin. Before Ilos, she hadn't had a lover in months, but, once restarted, she was insatiable. She thought about it constantly, an unexpected gift from her enhanced genetics. Her heart quickened a step and she licked her lips. The presence behind her snuggled up tight and a hand stroked her stomach softly, letting fingertips lightly brush her breast. She uttered a low moan as a tingling sensation rippled down her body to settle between her thighs.
Claire's previous lovers were just fluff, more than comfort food and less than soul mates. But maybe, just maybe, this might be the one. It would certainly make her mother happy. With eyes still closed, she rolled over and cupped the face of the presence behind her. Something was off though. The contours of the jaw were wrong. The shape of the nose was different. She opened her eyes to see blue skin.
"Liara, what the fuck?"
Claire bolted upright and opened her eyes again. She was dreaming. She blew out a long breath and blinked. Her skin still tingled in all the right places. It seemed pretty damn real.
Someone rustled in bed beside her. This time, she could see the now familiar black hair, tussled up like a pompadour. That stupid wave on Kaidan's head was both annoying and endearing at the same time. "You okay?" he mumbled sleepily.
"Yeah, dreaming again. Sorry."
"No, it's okay. Was it the one about Saren?"
Shepard swept her hand down her body, enjoying the sensation with just a little guilt. Well, maybe more than just a little. "No, not Saren. Definitely not Saren. Just go back to sleep."
"Mmmm," he half said, half grunted and then drifted off again.
Claire plopped her head back on her foam pillow. So much had happened in so short a time. How did her choices lead her to this point in time? A question popped into her head. When was that? God, it was just after Noveria. The image of that confrontation with Kaidan and Liara standing in front of her coalesced in her mind. His face was almost twisted with anger and she could see the hurt in both of their eyes. But, like on the battlefield, a decision had to be made. She could see Liara's eyes mist as the asari bit her lip. "I'm so sorry, Liara. I'm so sorry." Claire would never forget those eyes.
For the longest time in her life, romance was strategy. Sun Tzu and Von Clausewitz had more room in her heart and little was left over for any man. But, love wasn't just a game anymore. You had to live with the consequences. Still, a part of Claire never ceased to wonder what might have been had she swung the other way. To be honest, as the Duke of Wellington said after the Battle of Waterloo, it was a near run thing. She closed her eyes and, in her mind, she felt the warmth of the blue hands on her skin again. The tip of a finger brushed her lips, just barely touching while another finger worked lower, beginning at her belly button. Imagination was a wonderful thing. The lower hand stroked her hip bone, igniting a cascade of sparks along her flesh. Goosebumps prickled along her thigh.
Claire's mouth was dry now and her chest rose to take in air. Did she regret her choice? She did feel such a connection with Liara. Plus, there were those adoring eyes and the way her lips parted as she listened. She felt the blue fingers glide over the prim tuft of hair between her legs. Her eyes rolled back and her toes curled. Shepard bit the back of her hand…hard. Ok, enough was enough. This was just torture. What might have been was just what might have been and it needed to stay that way, imaginary or not.
She shook her head resolutely, but with more than a little disappointment. With a couple of deep breaths, Claire began to doze off. She would need the rest this morning. It was going to be a big day.
23 December 2183 – 1500 GMT
The shuttle to London was mercifully quick and uneventful with modern transportation being what it was. It was hard to imagine that within the span of one human life, people had been flying slow, turbine powered jets around the world before mass effect fields. It was downright primitive.
Claire Shepard looked out from their hotel window down at the River Thames. Cold raindrops peppered the icy waters of the ancient river as people moved about, bundled up against the winter weather. Westminster Abbey stood prominently nearby, a testament to the rich and enduring culture of the English people. Claire smiled as she thought about what a paradox of personality that she was. On the one hand, she was obsessed with everything new and fancy. On the other, she had a deep and abiding love of history and tradition. That part, she knew, was her military upbringing.
"Wow, would you check out this room!" Kaidan Alenko said in wonder. He had good cause to wonder as the room, paneled in dark wood and elegant wallpaper, created an Old World, aristocratic atmosphere. "Who's the guy in the old painting?" he asked, pointing to a reproduction of a man in a red uniform with high collar, who was looking down his long nose.
"He's the Duke of Wellington. You know…Waterloo?"
Kaidan nodded his head. "Oh yeah. And check out the sheets on the bed! I could get used to this," he said as he ran his hand over the fabric.
"Egyptian linen. High thread count. It's all about the thread count." Shepard knew she was high maintenance. Part of her wondered if Kaidan would put up with the cost. "And Kaidan, I've taken the liberty of having some wine delivered for later. I'm sure that I'll be needing a glass…or two after the ceremony."
Kaidan walked over to an open box with a bottle. "You mean this? It looks kind of fancy."
She left the window to join him and placed her hand over his as he admired the deep red liquid in its crystal decanter. "It's an Australian Syrah, Twenty One Seventy Nine. Sort of off the beaten path. I think you'll like it."
He chuckled nervously and part of Shepard liked that he was a fish out of water in her high-end world. It gave her a sense of control in the relationship and control meant comfort. "I don't know if I could afford that vintage," he said, "on my lieutenant's salary."
She slid her hand down along his arm as she stepped away to get her dress uniform. "This one's on me." She opened the armoire, an oak piece carved with images of lions and fleur de lis, and pulled out her dress blues. "We'd best get ready. The ceremony is at 1700. Councilor Anderson is making the trip all the way from the Citadel," she said with excitement. She loved the old man with all her heart while he was the CO of the Normandy and, after he knocked Ambassador Udina flat on his ass she practically worshipped the ground that he walked on.
Shepard handed Kaidan his dress blues. "I'm not a real stickler for protocol," she said, "but I never liked the Utilities that we wore on the Normandy," she added, speaking about the workday uniform that they wore aboard ship. She had an odd weakness for ostentation and pageantry, something that occasionally grated on her shipmates.
Kaidan slid on his dark blue trousers with a golden stripe down the side of each leg. "That looks magnificent on you," Shepard said with a glow as he tucked in the white shirt and put a scarlet waistcoat over it. Claire helped him into the black jacket, adorned with golden braids and buttons and she carefully adjusted the rank pips on his shoulder boards. However, just for this day, they would not wear decorations or insignia upon their uniforms as prescribed by ancient tradition.
"I'm starting to look like the duke up there," he said wryly as he buttoned the tight collar of his shirt.
"You are far more distinguished than the Iron Duke, Staff Lieutenant Alenko. You'll be the belle of the ball."
Shepard's uniform was just as complex, a series of hooks, zippers and buttons that poured her into a wasp waisted blue uniform with a scarlet cummerbund. "You look pretty sharp, commander," Kaidan said, running his hand along the golden stripe along the side of her skirt. She picked up his white cap and smacked him in the chest with it.
"You clean up pretty nice too," she said with a wink.
A hovering staff car was waiting in the valet area of the hotel and a tall soldier in a red uniform with a black bearskin cap opened the door for them. "Ma'am, sir, welcome to London. We are honored by your visit," he said in a stiff, but distinguished English accent.
Shepard nodded. "Thank you, sergeant." She noticed the red flags with gold stars on the hood of the car as she slid into the back seat. This was an admiral's car. In fact, this was Admiral Hackett's car. Despite the enormity of what they had done, it was still hard to believe all of the fuss. She wasn't complaining though. Being the center of attention was something she had gotten used to.
The ride to Westminster Palace was quick and the staff car pulled up to a grand entrance where Kaidan peered up at the great clock tower. "Will you look at that? It makes quite a sight at dusk." Indeed, the exterior lighting around the palace illuminated the vast stonework, making the place seem otherworldly.
Red clad soldiers escorted them to the entrance where an attendant put out his hand. "Ma'am, sir, your caps please."
The two handed the man their white caps and proceeded behind two guards into the palace. Their boots clicked on the tile, creating echoes in the long hall. Shepard looked over to Kaidan and saw him wipe a bead of sweat from his forehead and loosen his collar.
"It's okay to be nervous," she said as she squeezed his hand.
"Can we go back and fight Saren again? That's got to be easier than this."
They filed into the hall where Shepard's eye was caught by many familiar faces. A cacophony of voices filled the large area as people milled about, discussing galactic politics and the desperate battle on the Citadel. They strode over to a man with a welcome smile. "Councilor Anderson…," Claire said with a reverent bow.
He looked about as uncomfortable as Kaidan, standing stiff in his rich blue suit of office. "Shit, Shepard," he said in a low voice, his hand over his mouth, "I went from Navy Captain to Citadel Councilor overnight. With all the pressure, I've developed just a little bit of sympathy for Udina." Then, a faint grin cracked over his lips. "Still, it was great knocking him on his ass."
"I wish I could have been there, skipper."
"You were doing more important things. And, I'm not your skipper anymore," he said in a fatherly tone.
"Sir, you'll always be our skipper." It was a heartfelt moment between two warriors. In all the hustle and bustle after the battle on the Citadel, Shepard had only seen Anderson at the ceremony where humans had been invited to sit on the Council and, even then, they didn't have time to chat. So much had happened in so short a time.
"Hey," another voice sounded nearby, "don't go getting all sentimental on me." It was Jeff "Joker" Moreau, making that scrunchy "Joker" face with his mocking sing song voice.
Shepard didn't know whether to roll her eyes or laugh. Her pilot was both aggravating and endearing all at the same time. "Hello, Joker."
He gave her a mischievous grin through that furry beard of his and she knew that something else was up. "So, commander," he began, elongating his words for effect, "what was this you said about medals and politicians making speeches, huh?"
He got her good. Shepard winced remembering the line that she had given him when he joked about getting a medal for his snappy flying at Therum. It seemed like now that she was the recipient, the tables were turned. She made a mock laugh with a forced smile. "Eh, heh…Yeah, here, give me your finger," she said, making a snapping motion with her hand like she was breaking a twig.
Joker recoiled, holding his fingers with his other hand. "Oh, oh, don't you dare. I need these fingers for flying."
Kaidan burst out with a belly laugh and even Councilor Anderson let out a chuckle at the childish exchange between the two. When you got pilot and commander going good, no solar system was safe. Shepard gave Joker a wink to signify that they had reached an equitable peace. The guy had really grown on her since they set out from Arcturus Station all those months ago. He even looked pretty darn spiffy in his dress blues even though she knew he must be hating every minute of wearing that get up. She pulled a couple of champagne glasses off of a passing waiter and handed one to Jeff. "Yeah, someone's got to pull my boots out of the fire," she said, reminding him of that statement that he made when he saved the shore party from being blasted by molten rock.
He raised his glass. "To the Normandy. Finest ship in the fleet…with the finest helmsman too."
Anderson clinked glasses with the gathered crowd. "Here, here!"
Shepard looked around as they sipped and she could just make out Doctor Chakwas chatting with Corporal Fredericks while Pressly and Adams argued over something like an old married couple. "You'll give yourself an ulcer!" Adams said irritably. "Quit worrying!" Even with the grand Westminster Hall nearly full, Shepard thought the chamber seemed empty for the lack of one person.
"To Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams."
The four went silent for a moment before raising their glasses again. Shepard bit her lip before she took another drink. After Virmire, that was the most difficult letter she'd ever had to write. Since Ashley's parents had both passed, only three younger sisters remained. The letter began as, "Dear Abigail Williams, it is with great regret that I write…." Then, there was the inevitable tripe about Ashley's bravery and great sacrifice for the Alliance. Shepard didn't send one of those heartless vidmails, she penned the letter in ink in her own handwriting. In the services she had to sit through yet another playing of Flowers of the Forest and Amazing Grace and had to present yet another folded Alliance flag to grieving relatives. When would it all end?
A hot, moist feeling penetrated Shepard's nostrils and eyes and she gulped down the rest of her champagne. "You okay?" Kaidan asked.
She nodded and forced a smile. "Stiff upper lip," she answered solemnly. "I thought writing the letter to Jenkins' family was hard…." He grasped her arm lightly, showing his support.
"I never hope to be in that position, Claire."
"I'm sorry to say that you will be." Then, she saw someone that she needed to speak to. "Oh, Kaidan, come here. There's someone you need to meet." She nodded to Joker and Anderson, excusing themselves. "Lieutenant…Councilor."
She practically dragged Kaidan through the crowd to a seemingly middle-aged couple. "Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko, please meet Mister and Missus John Michael Shepard, my parents," she said with all formality.
Kaidan gulped audibly and his grip on her hand tightened several notches. He clicked his heels and made a curt bow. "Director Shepard…Captain Shepard," he said to each parent. The poor guy looked terrified. He probably would have rather fought Saren again.
Her father looked down his nose for a second just like Claire knew he would. Captain Hannah Shepard, on the other hand, gave Kaidan a warm embrace. "Thank you for taking care of our daughter," Hannah said. "I read the After Action Report and I'm just glad you survived that ordeal."
Lieutenant Alenko chuckled and scratched his head in an "aww shucks" sort of way. "Actually, ma'am, she took care of me."
"I suspected as much," Director Shepard interjected, ever the standoffish aristocrat. He then turned to his daughter. "I expected no less from a Shepard."
Claire narrowed an eye. "Father…," she said in a chastising voice, "it was a team effort. Everyone on the Normandy was a hero." It was time for a topic change before things got ugly. "So, mother, how is the Orizaba? It must be nice commanding a Dreadnaught."
"It's…big. I thought it would be just a notch above a cruiser, but it's a whole different ball game."
Claire knew her mother would catch on quickly though. "I'm certain you'll be better than John Paul Jones. There's surely an admiral's star in your future."
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, dear," Hannah said. "One thing at a time. I'm still getting used to how she maneuvers…how she accelerates. You have to think far ahead with a Dreadnaught." There was a twinkle in her mother's eye, one that spoke of a gambit.
Claire took the bait. She loved discussions of tactics with her mother. The elder Shepard was considered to be a master at naval warfare. "Which is what Jellicoe failed to do at Jutland," Claire stated boldly, invoking the controversial Dreadnaught battle of 1916.
Hannah didn't seem convinced. "Well, Beatty mishandled his battlecruisers in the initial encounter with the Germans and he failed to provide proper reconnaissance for the British Grand Fleet. Jellicoe didn't have enough information to make a good decision."
"Still, Jellicoe failed to concentrate his superior forces and got cautious. He swung away from the German torpedo attack and, by the time he recovered, it was too late for victory. The best that he could achieve was a draw." Claire could imagine the dark waters of the North Sea frothing with the wakes of iron Dreadnaughts and the giant muzzle flashes of monstrous naval guns.
"But few give Scheer the proper credit for masterful maneuvering of the High Seas Fleet in the face of nearly overwhelming odds. Up to that time no one dared take on the Royal Navy," Hannah added and then used her hands to guide Claire towards the podium. Debate over. "Come dear, your moment is about to begin."
Claire stood thoughtfully for a moment. There was something she needed to say. "It is…our moment. A moment for all of humanity."
Her father put a hand on her shoulder. "Well said, Claire. It is indeed just that."
A series of musical notes caught their attention and the murmuring of the crowd died away. Claire put a finger to her lips. "Sounds like the British Grenadiers." Through the crowd, she could see musicians in red tunics with white trousers playing finely polished brass and percussions as Councilor David Anderson made his way to the podium to stand beside Admiral Steven Hackett. She thought back to a time less than half a year ago when they took a huge chance on selecting her as the XO of the Normandy. With just a twist of fate she could have been relegated to something like Colonial Services Command or Alliance Personnel Command. Sure, getting Thrift Savings Plan benefits to Alliance service members was important, but that was not for her. Shepard was born and bred for the battlefield like Achilles and Caesar.
A series of loud chimes brought all conversation to a halt and the hall became quiet as members of the Systems Alliance Parliament and Navy gathered near the podium. An officer handed Councilor Anderson a stack of certificates and some small blue boxes, covered in a silky material. Anderson cleared his throat, bringing attention to the front of the hall.
"Distinguished and honored guests, is my pleasure to stand before you as a representative for all humanity. It seems like only yesterday that I relinquished command of the Normandy to oversee Alliance military issues on the Citadel. While it was a difficult and trying time for me, I see that the right thing happened."
Shepard knew how he had gotten screwed and he had every right to be bitter about it, but there was no indication of any ill will in his person this day. He was positively beaming, his eyes bright and his chest puffed out with pride. Just the contrast with seeing him so defeated after he lost command of the Normandy gave Claire a warm fuzzy.
Anderson took a breath and an ear-to-ear grin broke out over his face. "I sometimes fancy myself a man of insight even if Admiral Hackett disagrees with me," he said with a chuckle and an elbow into the admiral's chest. "If, in my career, I made one wise choice and one enlightened prediction it was to select Commander Claire Shepard for the job and to say that the crew of the Normandy would make humanity shine."
"With that in mind," he continued, "I would like the crew of the Normandy to join me on the stage."
Shepard turned to see her parents. Hannah stroked Claire's cheek with a loving hand while John nodded firmly, his lips set in satisfaction. While seemingly cold, the lady Shepards knew that this was tantamount to Director Shepard dancing a jig with arms flailing. John extended his hand and Claire shook it. "You've done the family proud," he said with just the outermost edge of his lips curling up.
Claire turned and made a curt bow to Joker and gestured for him to lead the way. He hobbled on his crutches, but every painful stride was full of energy and strength. That boy did a bang up job against Sovereign and he had every right to hold his head high. As the crew reached the stage the hall filled with the roar of applause and the flash of cameras capturing the moment. Joker pumped one of his crutches in the air, shouting, "Yeah!" With that, the roar rose to a fever pitch, nearly deafening Shepard.
Councilor Anderson stepped back and crossed his arms for a couple of minutes, allowing the crew to bask in the glory. Shepard looked over to him and he mouthed, "This is your time. Enjoy it." Then, he pointed to his temple and winked. "But don't let it go to your head."
He then raised his arms to quiet the crowd. Shepard looked out upon a sea of humanity, nearly everyone who was anyone in the Alliance and Earth nation states was here. There was even a special section for Alliance service members where a man and a woman held up a banner that read, We love you Commander Shepard – SSV Perugia. She gave them a wave and the dark-haired man began dancing around. Claire had to smirk at all the fan attention. She'd even once read Conrad Verner's blog and some of the wild stories that were posted there about her exploits. Speaking of Conrad, she wondered how that guy was doing. Thank God she convinced him to go home and keep the home front safe. If he were around the Citadel when Saran had attacked he would have done something stupid. Call her silly and sentimental, but she really cared about that knucklehead.
With the crowd silent, Admiral Hackett began opening the small blue boxes, one by one, and then called out, "Staff Commander Claire Shepard, front and center!" The man was the picture of a patrician officer, gray hair framing a weathered face behind a prominent, aquiline nose. Shepard popped to attention and right-faced, clicking her heels. She marched with measured steps up to the admiral, where she snapped a sharp salute, fingers to the temple, palm down. The admiral returned the salute and extended his hand. "Congratulations, Claire, the Normandy is getting a unit citation and you are getting…a second Star of Terra."
She shook his hand firmly and admired the gleaming silver star affixed to a crimson ribbon. Hackett placed it in her left hand and she stepped back to salute again. Her chest swelled with pride in this moment for her and her crew. She turned about on a dime and marched back as Hackett announced, "Lieutenant Commander Colin Pressly, front and center!"
By the time she had reached the gathered crew, Kaidan was being called. "Lieutenant Commander Kaidan Alenko, front and center!"
They made eye contact and he mouthed, "Lieutenant Commander?"
Shepard was just as surprised. Damn, that was a well earned promotion. She began to stretch out her hand, but stopped. "Aww, screw it," she said and wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a wet, juicy one on his lips. The crowd went nuts.
Rear Admiral Margot Kimmel
Standing in front of a vid monitor, Kimmel's jaw was as taut as a trampoline with her teeth clenched so tight they might snap under the pressure. She crossed and then uncrossed her arms yet again, the fifth time in a minute. When she couldn't stand it any longer, she slammed her fist down on the intercom. "Are you seeing this? Are you watching this? That woman is a disgrace to the uniform."
A man's digitally distorted voice flowed from the speaker. "Put your personal feelings aside, Margot. This is business. I'm more interested in your information and our long-term plans than hearing about your hatred of Shepard."
Kimmel huffed and her face flushed red to match the fiery color of her hair. Rarely did anyone speak to her with such disrespect and when they had, they lived to regret it. "You don't know the embarrassment that she caused me. I was the commander of Elysium! Me! Her little escapade during the Blitz nearly cost me my promotion. You just don't know."
There was a sigh emanating from the speaker that dripped of impatience. "Might I remind you that you're speaking to an agent of the Shadow Broker. We know."
This didn't slow Margot down for one second. She had an axe to grind. "By saving that colony she cast doubt on my command. I had to get past an official inquiry! Me!"
"You did shut down the planetary defense grid so that you would come in under budget and get a bigger bonus."
Kimmel slammed her fist down again. "Enough! You have no idea what it takes to command!" she declared with her eyes bulging out of their sockets. If her goals hadn't aligned with the Shadow Broker's she would have nothing to do with them and their lies. Deep down, she knew what the truth really was, but the truth no longer aligned with her goals. For her, this was no longer problematic. There were always casualties in war and the truth was often one of them.
"You're right," the man said. "I could not have manipulated my way out of that inquiry as masterfully. You show an excellent grasp of politics, admiral."
She leaned back into her chair and tapped the remote to the vid monitor to replay Shepard receiving that medal. And then, there was that kiss. Margot swept her hand and knocked a trinket off of her expansive desk. There was no more point to this banter. It would only make her more uncomfortable. "So, what is our next move?"
"The Shadow Broker usually loathes to take any direct action on the stage of intergalactic intelligence, but…we have been given an assignment that…how should I say it…is difficult to turn down. A group called the Collectors has taken in interest in Commander Shepard and thus, our goals are aligned. With your contacts in Parliament, you will need to discredit any evidence that the Reapers exist."
Kimmel snorted. "And just how will I do that?"
"We will provide you with the evidence and manipulate the stage to back you. You provide the political clout to make it happen. Think of it, Margot, Claire Shepard's reputation in tatters…you, Commander of the Fifth Fleet at Arcturus. Surely, you deserve such a lofty position."
Margot squirmed for a moment. The Fifth Fleet Commander was an awesome responsibility, overseeing the defense of an entire sector and dozens of warships. She knew that she had never personally participated in a single battle, much less having the tactical training to lead a fleet. But that didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was the power and the ability to show her naysayers that she had it. When she was Commander, Fifth Fleet, she would extract a bloody vengeance on many an Alliance officer. She would purge the Navy of the undesirable and undeserving. People needed to learn that you didn't cross Margot Kimmel. Her political friends in Parliament would be pleased.
"I do deserve it," she said with confidence. "After all, I've never actually seen this…this Reaper," she scoffed. "For all I know, it's just another one of Shepard's fairy tales."
There was a satisfied murmur. "Yes, yes, you keep thinking that, Margot."
CODEX
Sun Tzu – World famous ancient strategist from China.
Carl Von Clausewitz – Prussian soldier and German military theorist in the early 1800's.
John Paul Jones – Famous Captain of the Bonne Homme Richard during the American War of Independence.
Battle of Jutland – Large, but indecisive naval battle between the Royal Navy and the Kaiserliche Marine near Denmark in 1916.
The British Grenadiers – A march dedicated to elite British soldiers.
