A/N: Abbreviations and unclear terms will appear at the bottom. Generally speaking, I will attempt to use American Naval military nomenclature.
Original readers of this chapter will note quite a few changes. Some of what happened here simply made no sense given Shepard's history, and some of it was just pointless.
Thanks to liethr for follow-ups.
"Suppressive fire, now! Jackson, Carls, left flank, maintain pressure."
The voice was like ice, loud and yet somehow precise, a smoky contralto that spoke of nothing but absolute control.
The sky was riven by the slashes of GARDIAN lasers as two more pirate ships crashed to the ground in vast, earthshaking plumes of fire and dust. The sky was a broken red, streaked through with wispy gray clouds. The ground was burnt and blackened, the hulls of broken colony modules offering up thick black plumes of smoke to the uncaring sky. Marines, clad in heavy blue and white armor, moved in tight squads, the ground broken up in layers, three-tiered platforms of concrete like a giant stairway. At the edges, pirate forces fired back. The bark of sniper rifles competed with the low-pitched chattering of submachine guns and the occasional angry, booming cough of a shotgun.
A single black-armored figure stood among a tide of blue-armored soldiers, directing their assault. She leapt down from the broken edge of a landing pad, lithe energy untrammeled as she half-crouched next to a prefabricated wall still stenciled with assembly numbers. The ugly bark of Avenger assault rifles pierced the air, along with the scent of burning flesh, and the shrieks of the wounded and dying.
Behind the hardened faceplate of her helmet, she smiled coldly.
Almor was not a first or even second-tier colony world. Barely a collection of ship modules and mining gear, it had less than a thousand souls, all Ashland-Eldfell employees mining heavy pockets of titanium and palladium. Without defense towers or even a militia, the planet's only defenders – a handful of private security mercenaries and a reinforced group of cheap security mechs – were no match for a full pirate raid. The workers valued their independence, and Ashland-Eldfell liked not having to pay heavy SA taxes, but as the danger of a pirate raid mounted, the businessmen who ran Almor became worried.
The local pirate lord in the region, a cruel slaver and drug-running asari known as Thalia Renas, operated in this area with impunity. From her base at Alsages, too deep within the Traverse for the SA to strike at, she was a danger to human and volus colonies, both who had appealed to the Citadel Council for protection. With no assistance forthcoming, the small human colony had desperately asked for help from the Systems Alliance, reluctantly going so far as to sign onto the SA Charter, making them a protectorate rather than independent.
The SA had agreed, and drew up plans to make sure the area was secure. They carefully sent in their forces to fortify the world, improving its defenses and bringing in the 5th Regiment of the First Mindoir, the famous Lion's Roar force of Marines that were well-known for their hatred of pirates. Then the AIS had cunningly spread rumors that the SA had pulled out of the area, unwilling to meet Almor's requirements.
Sure enough, a battlecruiser and nine pirate frigates had erupted from the mass relay, so secure in their collective might they had not even deployed a scout first, rushing to be the first to strike the undefended colony. Except it was bait, with the miners and all other civilians flown out a week earlier. Now the 'helpless civilians' were actually hardened Marines from the Fifth Regiment, the 'private security forces' all N5+ special forces, the 'cheap mechs' a force of JOTUN heavy assault mechs.
The battle had initially gone well. Six pirate ships had been shot out of the sky by the heavy-cruisers Calais and Bonn,after they had been savaged by the long-range shots of the dreadnought Saint Helens just after jumping into the system. The pirate battlecruiser had taken a lucky glancing hit from a torpedo and lost weapons power, making a hard landing on the surface to attempt repairs.
Still, the pirates had landed in force, and the fight was on, the scum unaware just how badly they had been played. The casualties were heavy, the pirates bolstered by a thick scrum of Blood Pack vorcha, but the plan had seemed to be working.
Shepard's original orders had simply been to corral the heavier pirate force that had come from the crashed pirate cruiser, while the regimental CO, Captain Delacor, led the rest of the regiment against pirate armored flanking forces and the vorcha swarm threatening the Ashland-Eldfell mining equipment. Unfortunately, Delacor had been taken by surprise when a second pirate force entered the fray, severely damaging the Bonn and forcing the Calais to fall back. The pirate frigates had managed to harry and delay the dreadnought and the heavy armor units it carried, and now Delacor was pinned in place by armor units with little capacity to take them out.
Worse, she'd discovered the pirate battlecruiser was making repairs much faster than expected. If that cruiser got repaired enough to get back in space, the already damaged heavy-cruisers in orbit would be no match without backup from the dreadnought, and they'd either be destroyed or driven off.
And if that happened, the cruiser could simply bombard her forces on the ground to paste, or get away entirely.
With Delacor out of comms and pinned down, Shepard had to redefine the assault on the fly. Relieving Delacor was suicide, she had no anti-tank weapons. Storming the cruiser itself was also not an option, as its own GARDIAN defenses would make short work of her Marines.
Her only plan, and one she was attempting to implement now, was to draw the main force of the pirates away from the cruiser, and then flush the cruiser out from its hiding place with missiles and nerve gas. If the small battery of mobile GARDIAN trucks near the colony proper could draw a bead on the cruiser at close-range, it could be shot out of the sky.
That meant using half her force or more as bait, to draw the pirate defenders away far enough to let her strike force get close enough to threaten the cruiser. She was shaken from her thoughts by the loud and slightly panicked voice next to her.
"Commander Shepard! Incoming gunships, orders?" The young face of the Lieutenant next to her was taut with exhilarated fear, his armor dented and scorched from the building to building fighting that had occupied them most of the morning. His brown eyes were bright, even if his mouth was set in a grim line.
Shepard paused. Her features set in an emotionless mask, she turned. "Ignore them. Let them get in firing range, then have Squad Seven hit them with crossfire from their M-77s. We can't afford to let them know about the mobile GARDIAN trucks until that cruiser is found, Higgs."
Lieutenant Higgs grimaced, but complied. "Yes, ma'am. That means Sixth Company will be left without flanking cover when the pirates are drawn their way, however."
Her voice was cold. "They should dig in, then. Give the orders."
Shepard popped up, one hand grabbing on to the ledge above her, hauling her weight up to the next level. Movement caught her eye and with her free hand she unclipped her pistol and fired three shots, rapid-fire. Higgs started as there was a spray of blood and two broken figures slipped from rubble to land bonelessly on the ground. Orange and blue ichor mingled, a turian and a batarian, each with a bloody crater between the eyes, their weapons cold in their hands.
"Pathetic."
Shepard pulled herself up, gazing around. The pirate flank was getting closer to her own strike force, directly away from where it was supposed to go. She snarled and tapped her omni-tool. "Jackson, where is my damned suppressive fire!"
A laconic voice answered, syllables slurred slightly in an undercurrent of fatigue. "Sorry, ma'am. Jackson and Carls are both dead, trying to reorganize a firing line now. This is Moharmi."
Shepard grunted. "Acknowledged, Chief Moharmi. Move up the forward operating area to my current position and set up the GARDIAN trucks at the remote site." She clipped off the communicator. "Higgs, have 4th and 5th Squads dig in here. Have 8th Squad hold position on the ridge. I'm going to flush that cruiser out. When you see fire, pull your men back immediately to avoid the gas."
The Lieutenant nodded. "Yes ma'am… good luck."
He turned away, moving toward the comm specialist tucked into cover, and Shepard headed out herself, toward the left flank of the battlefield. She cursed, mentally adjusting the map of the battlefield in her head. Most likely without flanking suppressive fire, the squads drawing the pirates to the right would be overrun when she completed her task. And Fourth and Fifth would get savaged by the need to keep the pirates from closing on the trucks.
Gonna die either way, but at least this time we'll stop the fucking pirates. If I had another choice, I'd take it.
The thought flicked across her consciousness, and she moved.
With a leap, Shepard crossed the broken concrete edge of the upper level platforms and flew through the air below. With a grunt of effort, she flexed her arm, and blue fire wreathed her form, the mass effect field channeled by her amp reducing her weight to almost nothing. She fell three stories to the underway below, landing with barely a scrape of armored boots on cracked, filthy pavement.
"What th—" A voice exploded from behind her and she was moving, ducking into a half-crouch even as her hand unshipped the shotgun at her back, firing twice.
A batarian was flung backwards, two huge craters torn into the cheap battle-plast armor he wore. A second later Shepard was there, fist covered in coruscating blue energy as she smashed his skull to flinders, a vivid splat of blood marking his final moment.
Shepard paused to look around, pulling up the partial map on her omni-tool. "All commands, be ready for primary action. Eighth Squad, hold position on the ridge once you are there."
She gathered herself and raced down the narrow underway, the shortcut slicing between slapdash mining equipment and the detritus of the battle above. A shattered salarian body here, fragments of armor and an arm there…
Ahead she saw it, the secondary mining facility, the pirate cruiser downed with huge crisscrossing lines of charred ablative armor on its flank. Above it, the ugly overhang of the cliff the mining village was built around was scored with more black marks, but the orbiting ships were not able to get a clean hit on the grounded vessel.
Even as she watched, the GARDIAN laser array of the pirate cruiser flared, fifteen bright beams searing across the upper platforms in the distance, vaporizing more Marines from the flanking squads. The main force of the pirate infantry, a mix of vorcha, krogan, and mostly batarians, had already moved out from their hastily fortified barricades to chase the Marines. A few remaining pirates milled around the ship, helping to make repairs to the damage caused by the heavy-cruisers in orbit. More pirates worked on the engines, weapons laid on the ground so they could crawl along the hull.
Shepard sighed. There was still a chance she wouldn't have to pull the trigger. She bit her lip and tapped her comm. "Saint Helens, status."
The voice that answered was distorted by the screech of stellar radiation. "Time to position still three five minutes away. The last frigate pulled a suicide run on us, main propulsion is still down. We are out of range for fire support, ground control."
Shepard nodded and closed her eyes for a moment, before shaking her head. Thirty-five minutes would see this battlecruiser in the air and her entire force dead.
She knelt, and unshipped the weapon she had brought along with her.
She glanced around, wondering if she'd finally get court-martialed for using this thing, but there were not any cameras around to watch what was about to happen. She'd lugged the weapon to several ugly fights, waiting for a chance to use it on pirates, to let them get a taste of what it was like to suffer, and this was the best use she could think of.
It was a customized ML-77 missile launcher, but the warheads were black-nano binary munitions. One part nerve agent, one part blood chemical warfare, and all of it lethal to every Citadel species, capable of eating through protective clothing in seconds and even strong filters in a few minutes.
When she'd found them in pirate loot three months ago, she couldn't resist the irony of taking them along to use on more pirates.
When she hit the cruiser with these, they would either bolt and get chopped by the GARDIAN trucks still carefully hidden, or die slowly from the gas. She rather hoped they chose the latter. The heavy green canisters were technically illegal in Citadel Space, but Shepard cared more for the spirit than the letter of the law, especially when it came to those who hurt the defenseless.
Carefully programming her payload with her omni-tool, Shepard loaded the missile launcher. Tapping her omni, she spoke. "Eighth Squad, report."
The voice of Lieutenant Cammis sounded on the line, her French accent breathy as usual. "We are in position. The pirates are overrunning the flanking squads, but cannot get back here to stop us in time. We are waiting for your fire."
Shepard nodded. "Good. Go ahead and set up your shots. Make sure you pop your pills, this shit will kill you right through your armor if it gets on you." With that, she clicked off, turning to consider her next actions.
First, she had to make sure none of the pirates could trace back the missile fire to her or her team and snipe them. A distraction was needed.
Pausing to gather herself, she reached out with her biotics, focusing on a heavy beam of scrap suspended above the main semi-wreckage of the cruiser. With a grunt she pulled it down, releasing it almost immediately, and watched as the three hundred sixty kilogram hunk of metal crashed into the cruiser's hull. A rain of sparks flew high into the air as a huge, hollow boom sounded from the impact.
One pirate screamed as the projectile slid down the curved hull of the ship to smash into him, rendering him into a splash of red paste and segments of unidentifiable flesh. Shepard gave a grim little smile, as all the eyes turned to the source of disturbance, and fired her missile.
It flashed across the battlefield in a heartbeat, slamming directly into the cruiser's side, not doing much damage as it exploded. Vile, heavy black gasses erupted in all directions as the chemical compounds inside interacted, producing thick, choking clouds of poisonous black gunk. A pirate screamed as he fell to the ground, twitching and then going stiff, blood pouring from his eyes and nose, and a turian next to him gagged helplessly as blue blood seeped from between his plates and he was unable to move.
An instant later, nineteen other missiles from Squad Eight slammed into the engines, hot omni-gel incendiary paste burning away merrily at the engines and the external heatsinks for the GARDIAN lasers of the battlecruiser.
Shepard reloaded and fired again, this time at the front of the craft, the black filth spattering across the clean white steel before erupting into more choking clouds of black gasses. She popped a silver pill into her mouth, the deactivation agent for the gas, just in case a wind blew it her way.
Now all she had to do was wait.
O-OSaBC-O
Aboard the battlecruiser, the pirate commander went stiff at the sight of the black gas explosions, her features tightening into an almost pain filled mask. She recognized a lethal chemical warfare nano-agent when she saw one. When more missiles began slamming into the ship's exposed engines, blowing out a power conduit, she knew it was time to leave. Without weapons power restored yet, she was a sitting duck. Sooner or later that blood-nerve gas would eat its way into the ship, and even if it didn't, the other missiles would wreck her engines and overheat her heatsinks, making their GARDIAN lasers useless.
This raid had gone all wrong from the start, her beloved battlecruiser a near wreck, most of her fleet gone… and no slaves. She watched bitterly as more missiles slammed into her ship. Her own forces were out of position to reinforce the cruiser and drive the missile launchers off. The armor pinning most of the main force wouldn't last forever, and once they failed…
Thalia Renas would not tolerate jail. She sighed, sealing the airlocks to the ship, locking out all external venting and hitting the button that sealed the systems from the outside. She turned to the haptic panel next to her, and tapped the comm.
"Bn'nga, get us in the air." Examining the haptic interface in front of her, she grimaced at the damage reports. "Weapons, ECM, and kinetic barriers still down, I see."
Her batarian pilot grunted over the intercom. "Yes, ma'am. Been nice knowing you, Thalia. No way we can deal with those two cruisers until the repairs are done."
The pirate asari snarled. "Well we can't goddess-damned stay here, either. Engage the lowest level of the core, and keep us just above the ground, hugging it. We'll circle sun-side and get lost in the solar radiation. The humans have moved their entire force to the south, to deal with the armor, and drawn off my men. The way north is open, right past the main upper colony, with no one to even see us."
His voice was dubious in tone. "It's possible, I suppose. If we stick around here, we could at least fix up the shields…"
She sighed. "If we stay on the ground anymore, we'll get holed by those stupid humans."
The batarian, barely visible in the front of the ship, nodded, beginning his maneuver.
O-OSaBC-O
The heavy, unwieldy battlecruiser, an old turian design, slid forward, mass effect core barely lifting it clear of the ground. The engines lit up, as the last of the pirates still outside the ship gave a blood-strangled curse and died.
Shepard made sure her rifle was steadied and in place, and tapped her comm. "Spear, be ready. No target LADAR, fire on my target designator."
"Acknowledged, ma'am." The voice over her omni-tool was tight and nervous.
The pirate cruiser wheeled, the pilot skillfully keeping the ship low to the ground. Her own people fired a few final missiles, most of them missing entirely, and the cruiser picked up speed.
Shepard tracked the ship with her rifle, the laser target unit on its side sending out a beam of green light, and when the pirate ship angled up ever so slightly, she pressed the button on the side of the rifle.
"Designated. Fire when ready, Spear."
O-OSaBC-O
Thalia Renas, pirate queen of Alsages, gave a smile as the cruiser accelerated.
A few more minutes and they'd make a clean getaway.
She had lost hundreds of men and almost her entire fleet, but she had hurt the Alliance force badly, and she would live to fight another day. She turned to head to the back of the ship when suddenly the entire ship lurched.
Eight huge beams of death carved instantly into the engines from the until now concealed GARDIAN laser GTS trucks at the edges of the colony.
The cruiser dipped, sliding from the sky in a blaze of burning armor and uncontrolled fires, as the trucks unleashed a torrent of heavy laser fire on it again and again. Thalia couldn't believe it, even as haptic interfaces flashed red all around her.
"The bitch sacrificed her own men to…"
Another flash of lasers, and Thalia Renas knew her pirate empire – and possibly her life – was no more.
O-OSaBC-O
In the aftermath of battle, the ugly truth of warfare becomes evident.
The ground was carpeted in corpses, rivulets of blue, red, orange, and purple all commingling on the torn and shattered landscape. Corpses stared unblinkingly at the angry red sky, the wind carrying the charnel scent of burning flesh everywhere.
Here and there medical corpsmen triaged wounded Marines, applying medi-gel infused bandages and speaking in soft tones. Smoke wafted gently skyward, as Alliance fighter units began to descend, harrying any remaining enemy forces with lances of purifying fire.
On the highest tier of the colony, the concrete under-works were a bit more high-quality, the colony shells larger, cleaner.
Offices for the Ashland-Eldfell executives who normally oversaw everything, Shepard supposed.
As she watched, a UT-47 drop shuttle came to a shuddering landing, fore and aft burners firing to stabilize the craft as two figures dropped from its inner bay. One she was all too familiar with, in recent days, the other… she had not seen in a very long time.
"Shepard. Status report."
The man facing her was large, angry looking, and almost weary. His face was craggy and marred with a heavy, irregular scar on one side, occluding his eye and part of his scalp, the cybernetic eye replacement making a tiny whirring noise as he focused on Shepard. His battered armor had the name DELACOR printed across his left chest, and the bars of a captain were painted on the shoulder of his armor.
"Sir. Operation complete. Second Company Group has suffered moderate casualties. One hundred thirty-eight Marines dead, ninety-four wounded. I regret to report that Sixth Company was destroyed by the main pirate force, which drew away from the cruiser. The battlecruiser attempted escape. With five squads from Ninth Company, I was able to draw off defenders and use incendiary missile fire and biowarfare nano-gas to flush it from cover."
Delacor grunted. "You finally got a chance to use those things on pirates, I see. Figures you wouldn't kill them clean." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Second company got splattered by the goddamned tanks and Lieutenant Commander Vitan is dead. I'd normally have you ride herd on First Company Group, but that won't be necessary." His eyes flicked to Anderson, then back to Shepard. "I haven't gotten a report from upstairs yet, what is the fleet status?"
She remained at attention. "We have affirmative reports from the Saint Helens – they have destroyed all pirate vessels in the operation still in space. The dreadnought is damaged from a kamikaze attack. The Bonn is heavily damaged and reports Captain Bishop died from shrapnel and internal explosions when the forward missile battery went. I went ahead and dispatched 10th Company's medical teams to assist."
Delacor nodded again, his expression easing slightly. "…Good thinking. Enemy casualties? And I'm a fucking idiot for even asking this, but do we have any prisoners for interrogation?"
Shepard gave a thin, cold smile. "Initial casualties of pirate forces indicate over seventeen hundred dead. No prisoners. Thalia Renas was discovered on the cruiser, and refused to surrender. I was forced to kill her, sir. A dead batarian – the pilot, probably – and a handful of other dead pirates were also found in the wreckage. There was also single civilian on the cruiser, her daughter I believe. Also dead."
Delacor sighed. "Shepard, did you kill a fucking kid this time?"
She immediately shook her head. "Captain Delacor, the child was dying from untreatable injuries at the time of discovery. It was a mercy killing."
Shepard thought back to the wreckage of the pirate cruiser.
O-OSaBC-O
Thalia Renas had actually survived, both legs broken. The cruiser was broken in half along its keel, dead bodies spilling from the ruptured flanks and shattered engine room, but the main deck was mostly in one piece, if completely wrecked. Shepard had found Renas crawling toward rear of the ship, where another asari form lay, this one far younger and clearly badly injured, in what must have been some kind of private quarters.
Shepard had stepped over the burning wreckage of what was once a bulkhead and unshipped her shotgun. "Freeze."
Thalia only looked at Shepard, then back at the young asari. "I surrender. Or kill me. Whatever. But… not my daughter. She had no part in this. She did not know. Please."
The pirate's voice was broken with pain and shaky with emotion, and Shepard gave a tiny smile as she knelt down next to the child.
"And how many slaves begged for mercy from your men? How many families have you wrecked with your evil?"
Thalia's blue eyes widened, and she clenched her fists, the blood and shattered bones of her legs forgotten. "You… you are supposed to be better than people like me. I know what I did. Fine. Kill me. But she didn't do a thing. Have mercy. Not for me. But for her. She…"
Shepard paused, looking over the asari girl and her wounds. From the jagged thirty centimeter-long gaping hole torn into the tiny abdomen that was spilling forth an all-too-human looking intestine, the torn throat only weakly spurting purplish blood, and the horrible fourth-degree burns that seared the child's face, arms, and upper chest down to the bone. Shepard knew the child was going to die no matter what.
There wasn't enough medi-gel in the world to stop the bleeding and broken internal organs, and it was only going to be a few more minutes until the asari child's heart stopped.
She'd never intended to kill a child with her actions, but it wouldn't be the first time she'd inadvertently ended an innocent life. The child was probably in pain, and the least Shepard could do was put the girl out of her misery.
The fact that Thalia clearly thought she was still alive and could be saved, though, led Shepard to decide not to let the asari pirate think it was mercy guiding her actions.
After all, Shepard owed Thalia a very large amount of pain and suffering. She smiled, and then leveled her shotgun, placing a blast right into the head of the asari girl. "Oops. Finger slipped."
Thalia screamed in horror and anger, biotics flaring as she attempted to rise to her feet despite the compound fractures, and the shotgun spoke again, in finality.
O-OSaBC-O
Shepard straightened, facing her commanding officer. "She had suffered internal injuries and fourth-degree burns, as well as abdominal perforation. It was frankly hard for me to pull the trigger."
Delacor looked at Shepard with weary, disgusted features. "Imagine that, you hesitating to pull a trigger. As for the pirate leader, we both know she didn't goddamned attack you, but I'm tired of trying and failing to rein you in. Thankfully, Shepard, you are not my problem anymore."
He grunted, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the figure of Captain David Anderson. "Your request for transfer has been noted and approved."
Shepard raised a dark eyebrow, her posture still ramrod straight, and glanced over at the other man.
Anderson only shrugged. "I need an XO for a new command I've just picked up. And another mission I could use your help on. Mindoir Command has already signed off on the transfer, and your level four and five qualifications in navops and engineering qualify you as an XO aboard a frigate." He smiled. "If you are still interested in seeing space, that is."
Shepard only looked at the man for a long moment, a sparkle in her eye, before nodding.
"Yes, sir." A pause, as if searching for words. "I would like to accept, sir."
The face was unmoving, not a single twitch of muscle, but Shepard's eyes had gone from hard and flint to dark, almost quiet, and thoughtful.
Delacor nodded amiably. "I'll get the paperwork out of the way. This sounds like a speed transfer, based on the orders from Command. If you'll follow me, Captain, we can get this wrapped up inside the offices up there."
He paused and turned to Shepard. "As for you, Shepard, your final task in the Fifth is to police up this disaster area you've made and detail off recovery and burial squads. Make goddamned sure whatever nanochemical agent you deployed is neutralized as well. I don't know how the hell you got a hold of that stuff, but make sure the rest is destroyed before you ship out."
Shepard saluted, eyes hard once more. "Sir, yes, sir."
Pivoting on a heel, she stalked off, something almost animistic in her walk.
Delacor shuddered and gestured to the office behind him. "After you, Captain."
Anderson stepped into the office, which had been converted hastily into a command center. A rack of Avenger rifles was clipped neatly to one wall, the other two pasted over with rough terrain maps and a top-down display of the under-tunnels and mining tunnels. Comm radios for various units were neatly clipped on the windowsill in easy reach, next to the Captain's own weapon, a heavy Vindicator rifle.
The desk was flimsy and covered in datapads, pieces of a Vigilance sniper rifle, and leftover lunch, which was dumped into the trash by Delacor as he sat down behind the desk. "So, Captain Anderson. Not that I am anything but delighted that you are taking that crazy bitch off my hands, but is there anything else you can tell me about this transfer? Am I going to be getting a replacement XO, preferably not someone like her?"
Anderson sat as well, taking in the man across from him. He'd never served with Delacor, but in his own way the man was as much a legend as Shepard or Branson. Nicknamed the Iron Man, he'd survived everything thrown at him – crashing transports, erupting volcanoes, thresher maws, even an assault from a krogan warlord. But Delacor was also held to be unlucky.
Certainly, given how willing Shepard was to sacrifice Marine lives to get the job done, the Fifth Regiment must have felt their luck had run out when she'd been named XO. The two had not gotten along well at all, with Shepard pushing for more attacks on pirates and going after slavers, while Delacor wanted to perform defensive operations. The Fifth had actually been tasked to this raid by a change of orders from General Rachel Florez, and was unusual for the Fifth, which had been doing mostly garrison duty for the past three months.
Given the fact that Anderson knew Shepard and this Ranas asari had past history – the pirate had been responsible for much of the suffering Shepard had gone through in her youth – he was pretty sure General Florez had set the raid up as a way to give her prized student a bit more closure. Maybe that last killing would allow Shepard to focus now.
He hoped so. He considered telling Delacor the truth, but the man would probably be upset he himself had been passed over to be a Spectre.
"To your second question, yes. You'll be getting an N6 commander and two more lieutenant commanders who were just approved for N training. As far as her next duty station, I'm afraid it's classified, actually. I can tell you generalities. It isn't just to take Shepard off your hands. She'll be working with me on an experimental frigate, and we're doing shakedown runs."
Delacor nodded. "Huh. Space command? Smart, limits the damage she can do. You are comfortable with her as an XO? She's very efficient with the tasks an XO must perform, I will grant that."
Anderson nodded. "I've known Shepard a long time. I know she was very difficult to work with, but there's no one better."
Delacor snorted. "Difficult? She used black-nano nerve and blood agents to flush out the battlecruiser the pirates had crashed here, after getting almost a fifth of my men killed to bait their main force into getting flanked, and more to pull the survivors of that fracas away so she could get close enough." He sighed. "And yet again I have to explain to Alliance Command why I have zero prisoners. They are starting to have issues believing me when I say every enemy we encounter fights to the death."
Taking a sip of water from a cup on his desk he shook his head tiredly. "The fact she mercy killed a child is so fucking unlike her that now I don't know if it was a mercy killing, or if she straight up shot the kid just to fuck with this Ranas's head. I shouldn't have to wonder that kind of thing about my own XO, Captain." Delacor exhaled. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to rant. But she's not doing better since Torfan."
Anderson only nodded, pulling out his datapad. "Which was why we are making this transfer. We have a task for Shepard that will allow her to focus all her energy on something new, and yet will hopefully keep her more in line." He presented the transfer chit to Delacor, who nearly snatched out of his hand and approved it without even reading it.
Delacor handed it back, eyes dark and mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "I wish you luck with her. It's been years since Torfan, and you wouldn't be doing this if you had any idea of what kind of monster she's become, Captain."
Anderson shook his head. "I know her. There's still a good person in there, somewhere. It's hard for her to show it because she doesn't know how."
Delacor smiled coldly, eyes suddenly narrow, and his voice was a whisper. "Is that so? I've seen her shoot surrendering soldiers in the head and laugh, kicking dying men to death while ignoring every rule of surrender, and throw away the lives of a dozen Marines to bring down one batarian, only to torture the man to death. She's sick, Anderson."
Anderson's brows furrowed. "And how often has she been given the proper support to carry out the orders she is tasked with? We all know that she had half the men you did and managed to bring down a battlecruiser with a handful of missile launchers and two GTS trucks. She's damned effective, and if the SA would give her a chance to prove herself, she could show that instead of having to act this way. Of course she's bitter."
Delacor grimaced. "I simply dislike her tactics, and their costs. I feel as if I have been tainted, compromised by what she does. And I don't understand why the SA would keep deploying her."
Anderson gave a weary sigh at that. "Because, Captain, when the news says the Butcher was deployed to a region, what happens to piracy?" His own eyes darken. "When we send her into a terrorist negotiation, what happens? When people see her coming, they know they either surrender – at once – or die. She's become a tool for them. You're just the handler. Or you were. Now I am. I was able to keep her in order once. And it's been a long time, but maybe I can rein her in again."
Delacor slumped and rubbed his eyes, laughing. "Good luck, then, Captain. I'll see if she's done with her final tasks yet."
He sat up straight and tapped his omni-tool. "Shepard, status."
Her voice was cool but more animated than earlier. "Just finishing up setting funeral and hazmat detail, sir. And we found a survivor among the pirates… I didn't kill him, just to make you feel happy. Sir."
Delacor glared at his omni-tool, then sighed. "I suppose I should be fucking thankful you have enough decency to do that much, instead I'm just thankful we are going our separate ways. Finish up what you're doing and report to the colony landing pad, at the shuttle Captain Anderson and I came in on. You ship out immediately. I'll have Lieutenant Higgs get your ship-bag and put it on the shuttle for you."
The line was silent for a moment, then she spoke. "Yes sir. At once."
Delacor killed the link and smiled sadly up at Anderson. "The bitch is all yours. Don't bring her back."
Anderson stood, pocketing the approved transfer order. "I won't, Captain. She needs someone who believes in her to find her way back."
He left the prefab unit, and Delacor stared at the ceiling for a few seconds before tapping his omni-tool and engaging an encrypted comm-link.
"General Florez, Anderson is picking up Shepard now, as you said he would. I'll give your offer careful thought." He clicked off, and smiled, wondering if his luck was finally turning around.
TERMS:
GARDIAN: General ARea Defense Integration Anti-spacecraft Network – basically laser anti-air, anti-missile, and anti-ship weapons
XO: Executive Officer – second-in-command of a military unit
CO: Commanding officer – first-in-command of a military unit