Chapter 2

Hackett stood in the austere hospital room and looked at the broken, still form of Commander Emelia Shepard. The doctors still had her in a drug-induced coma, but they assured the Admiral that she was slowly recovering. It had been eight weeks since the destruction of the Reapers and they had almost lost Shepard three times before they even got her to the hospital. Since then they had performed seven surgeries on her and almost lost her two more times.

"You're an incredible fighter, Shepard," Hackett whispered to the still room. "Keep fighting. You'll be back with us soon."

Hackett had finally ordered Major Alenko back to limited duty. The young Marine had been devastated by Shepard's injuries and had spent every moment with her for three weeks. It was obvious the man felt more for Shepard than just professional dedication. Hackett had wondered a couple of times before Shepard was resurrected by Cerberus if there was some fraternization between them, but Anderson had always defended the pair and Hackett had let it drop.

Hackett hated to make Kaidan leave her side, but there was a lot of rebuilding to do and Kaidan was one of the best Marines left on Earth. Right now Kaidan's diplomacy and familiarity with the Turians and Krogan were essential, so Hackett had ordered the broken man to assist with negotiations.

Anderson. Hackett sighed. He missed his friend terribly. They had served together back in the First Contact War and had been friends as well as colleagues ever since. David Anderson was an incredible soldier, leader and diplomat. He had also taken an interest in Shepard and had steered her career and helped her as a mentor. Hackett suspected that Anderson had come to care for the indomitable young woman as almost a daughter.

Shepard had returned the respect and devotion and Hackett did not look forward to telling Shepard about Anderson's death.

Hackett remembered the first time he and Anderson met her – a raw recruit just finishing up Basic Training.

2172

Camp Powell, Marine Basic Training Station

California, Earth

Major Steven Hackett relaxed in his seat at a small outdoor coffee shop on the Alliance Marine Basic Training Station. It had been several years since he had been to Earth and he was enjoying the summer day.

"Anderson," Hackett called out when he saw the other man. Anderson waved and swiftly walked over to join the Major.

"Major Hackett," Anderson greeted him with a salute.

Hackett waved away the formality and gestured to the seat across from him. "We're here unofficially, David. Lose the protocol."

Anderson grinned and sat down. "What's this all about, Steven?" They had served together during the First Contact War and had maintained contact ever since.

"I received a call from Gunnery Sergeant Hal Wilson a few weeks ago," Hackett explained after Anderson ordered his coffee. "He is a Senior Drill Instructor here and it seems there's a recruit he wants me to see."

Anderson looked up in surprise. "Really? That's unusual. This must be an extraordinary recruit."

"Wilson didn't give me a lot of details, but it sounds like it." Hackett and Anderson finished their coffee and made their way to the training area.

Within a few moments of checking in, Hal Wilson entered the lobby and smartly saluted the two officers. "Major Hackett," Wilson greeted Hackett happily as they shook hands. "It's good to see you."

"You, too, Hal. This is Lieutenant Commander David Anderson," Hackett paused while the two men shook hands. "Anderson is interested in finding qualified recruits to recommend for the N program. I took the liberty of inviting him to see this recruit of yours."

Wilson gestured the two men to join him and they began walking out of the building. "They just finished up their three-day field exercise and should be coming in for debriefing within the hour," Wilson explained as they walked. "The recruit I want you to see is Private Emelia Shepard."

The three arrived at the training yard where the Drill Instructors were standing waiting for their squads to come in from the field. A few squads had already returned and were getting an ear-full regarding their failures. The final FTX was a grueling ordeal that few squads passed. It was meant to tax their stamina and force them to attempt to get the objective while tired, dirty and hungry.

Wilson led them to a spot by a tall Drill Instructor who was built like a panther. The man marked their approach and gave a brisk nod to Wilson and then turned back to wait for his squad. The man had a hard, angular face and piercing black eyes.

Wilson leaned against some crates and gestured to the Drill Instructor as Hackett and Anderson joined him. "The preliminary report on Shepard included a flagged psych eval. She's the only survivor of Mindoir," Wilson explained.

Anderson gave a low whistle. "I heard about that. She was only a teenager. That must have messed her up, seeing her friends and family killed or abducted by the Batarians."

"Yeah," Wilson continued. "Psych report said she was a loner and her ability to handle stress was questionable. The head shed said to lay it on thick to see if she could take it. I assigned her to Sergeant Clinton," Wilson indicated the Drill Instructor that had greeted them. "He's the best instructor we have. Smart, tough and good at reading people. He laid into her from the moment the recruits got off the transport." Wilson chuckled at the memory. "He calls her Barbie."

"Barbie?" Hackett asked.

"Yeah. She absolutely hates the nickname, but she hasn't punched Clinton yet. He walked up to her immediately and started yelling in her face. Told her that the marines didn't need a Barbie doll and she'd be better off modeling for Fornax than trying to be a Marine." Wilson laughed. "She's a looker, that's for sure. But she didn't bat an eye; she just stood there and informed him she was going to be the best Marine he's ever seen."

"Sounds like she meant it, or we wouldn't be here," Anderson interjected with a thoughtful tone.

"You said her squad completed the objective?" Hackett asked in wonder.

"Yep. They should be coming in soon and Clinton is going to chew her ass," Wilson said with a big smile.

Before Hackett or Anderson could ask why the squad would get chewed out for passing a nearly impossible test the dirty, bedraggled squad came into view. The six members were clearly exhausted and most of them showed it in their slumped posture and shuffling steps. The squad was made up of four males and two females. The female walking at the head of the squad was of average height and walked with a strong stride, head held high.

The squad formed up in front of Clinton and went to parade rest. Clinton wandered up and down the line of them giving each a hard stare. His face wore an angry expression and he clasped his hands behind his back as if trying to keep from throttling the recruits in front of him.

Several of the recruits shifted uncomfortably as the angry silence of their Instructor continued. The exception was the young woman with blond hair who had walked with such purpose. She stood straight and patient, although her eyes showed her fatigue and she was grimy from head to foot.

After several minutes of pacing, Clinton finally stopped and turned to face the squad. "That was the poorest excuse for teamwork and tactics I've ever seen. I don't know how you pukes managed to get to the objective," he roared at them. Hackett was impressed by the Drill Instructor's volume and malice. "It was pure luck and you all better fucking learn from it!"

"Go get cleaned up and eat. Formation at 1800. Dismissed!" Clinton roared and the cowed recruits began to shuffle away.

"Lassiter and Barbie, you stand fast," Clinton growled. "I'm not done with you."

The blond haired girl and a lanky dark haired man returned to parade rest. Her dirty face remained set in a military mask of indifference as her eyes stayed focused straight ahead instead of on the again pacing Drill. Lassiter stood hunched and shaking, although Hackett wasn't sure if it was from fatigue or fear of the angry drill sergeant.

"What happened out there, Lassiter?" Clinton yelled at the timid recruit. Lassiter blinked and his mouth opened and closed a few times, but he gave no answer. With a snort of disgust Clinton turned to Shepard.

"What the fuck did you think you were doing, Barbie?" Clinton screamed in her face.

"Completing the objective, Drill Sergeant," the young woman replied in a strong, even tone.

"Lassiter was in charge of your squad, not you. Why didn't you follow his orders, Private?" Clinton was merely inches away from her nose at this point. Lassiter squirmed slightly, but didn't break from parade rest.

Shepard was silent for a long moment before responding in a calm tone. "Private Lassiter…didn't give any orders, Drill Sergeant." With a deep breath and a tone of regret, she continued. "He froze, Drill. We had enemy units to our East and South and a marsh between our location and the objective. Private Lassiter vapor locked and would not respond to our requests for orders. So…I took charge."

Clinton turned his attention on the wilting Lassiter. "I watched the whole op on the monitor. You're a fucking mouth-breather, Lassiter, and if this'd been real you'd have got the entire squad waxed. You were in charge and it was your goddamn duty to direct your squad and get the objective." Clinton leaned in close and hissed at the shaking recruit. "Get the hell out of my sight, Private." Lassiter quickly headed for the barracks.

Clinton moved in to stand just inches from Shepard's face. "You were the A-slash and it took you too damn long to direct the squad. If you'd reacted faster your squad wouldn't have been squeezed by the southern patrol and you wouldn't have lost two members of your team. You hesitated and the entire squad paid the price for it, Barbie doll."

Shepard stayed silent, her mouth so firmly closed Hackett thought he could hear her jaw grinding all the way to where they stood.

Clinton stood rock still with his nose an inch away from Shepard's as he searched her eyes for a sign of weakness. Shepard stood like a statue and didn't blink.

"You did a good job, Shepard. I'm proud of you for leading the squad to victory." Clinton said in a quieter tone as he stepped back.

Shepard blinked a few times in surprise at the sudden change from her instructor. "Sergeant?" She asked in confusion.

"You've got leadership potential, but you've been hesitant to act on it. Even when the rest of your squad looked to you for guidance you hesitated."

"There're plenty of crappy leaders in the Alliance and you'll have to follow their orders. You're not one of them, Shepard, so when you're presented with the opportunity to command, you damn well better take it! Dismissed, Private." Clinton turned and walked away.

Shepard stood there for a moment before slowly moving toward the barracks.

Hackett gently patted Shepard's hand and gave a sigh. She had truly exceeded any expectations he had had about her and had given more than anyone should ever have to in the name of duty. The losses she suffered on Mindoir, on Elysium and the first Normandy… And now the losses suffered during the fight for Earth. How was he ever going to be able to break that news to her?

The doctors had told him they were concerned there might be significant brain damage from the trauma and lack of oxygen each time they had lost her. Even if, by another miracle, her mind was whole she would have a long, hard recovery ahead of her. Hackett hoped she would have the strength to endure that process. At least she still had Alenko and some of her friends to help her through it.

"We're all here for you, Commander," he whispered to the comatose woman. Hackett gave her hand one last squeeze and limped wearily from the room.