Here's the next one. It's been on my list, and someone asked for Samara in particular, so…
Don't expect to be happy.
Secondary character: Samara
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The Justicar and the Renegade
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" I've got the name of her ship," Shepard stated without bothering to give any greeting. "Your fugitive left here two days ago on the AML Demeter." He tossed a data file on the police desk, letting her see for herself. Her eyes scanned the scrolling text, and Samara read the fact for herself.
" Shepard, you impress me," she said. "You fulfilled your part of the bargain, and I will fulfill mine." A promise to follow him on this suicide mission of his. He needed a skilled biotic, while she was willing for any path that allowed her to leave this police station without further bloodshed. Quid pro quo, she believed the human saying went.
But Shepard wasn't accepting. Not yet. "You are sworn to follow a code that dictates your decisions," he said. "But I'm running a military operation. It's my job to make difficult decisions."
Samara raised an eyebrow. 'Difficult decisions' sounded like a euphuism for choices few civilized species would countenance. "You wonder if I will refuse to follow orders because of my Code?" she asked, being frank.
" I can't allow that to happen," he admitted, his red eyes analyzing every minute detail of her expression.
So she told him the truth. "By agreeing to follow you, I am compelled to swear the most difficult of Justicar oaths. A third oath, an oath of Subsumision. After I do, your orders will override the Code. You should know, however, I will still give you my opinion when the situation warrants, however."
Shepard nodded. "Then do it," he said, his first command over her.
Samara knelt, head bowed, and let the biotic energy flow from within her. To most species, it was pure theatrics, but to a Justicar- "By the Code, I will serve you, Shepard. Your choices are my choices. Your morals are my morals. Your wishes are my Code." With the culmination of her code, a flare of biotic energy erupted, before all the energy withdrew, marking the contract. Still, there was more to be said.
"I will obey you unquestioningly in all your commands," she said, "but if you make me do anything dishonorable, I may need to kill you when I am released from my Oath."
"Released?" Shepard asked, and she wondered just how long he had expected from her. Perhaps her gamble on his character had been misplaced. But now it was too late, and she was bound to answer.
"It will endure until the end of your mission, however long it may be," she said. "Once we have attacked the Collectors, and your mission complete, I will be released to return to my role as Justicar."
"The mission is never over," Shepard said, and for him it never was. She could see that he was one of those types of people. "But regardless, I believe I understand. We will return to the Normandy, and you can meet the rest of our team."
Samara fell in step behind him as they left the police station. "Truly, the life of a Justicar can get lonely," she shared. "I admit, I am looking forward to serving with a company of honorable heroes."
He seemed to spasm for a moment, as humans were wont to do in mirth.
---
The second human she met on the Cerberus vessel, at least, gave nothing to disprove her hopes. Later, she wondered how she would have felt if he had.
But Jacob was an honorable hero, of a type she felt genuinely comfortable around. Later encounters only improved her opinion of his honor and self-control, traits she understandably held in high regard.
" Welcome to the Normany, Samara," Jacob had greeted her, shaking her hand as was human custom. "We've studied your profile extensively. With your skills, I think you'll be an excellent addition to our team."
Samara nodded at the due praise. "Thank you. From an organization such as yours, that is high praise indeed." If Jacob had any hesitance to her being an alien, the Cerberus soldier hid it well enough to escape even her notice.
"Samara is powerful," Shepard added. "I've seen her biotic powers at work, and they are substantial." Power. Skills. Force seemed to be the language Shepard understood: disappointing to Samara, perhaps, but not in itself unreasonable. Even if the one she was bound to was a man of violence, violence in itself need not be used for evil.
The next minutes were spent sorting out where Samara would reside, and other such necessary details. When they were resolved, Shepard tasked Jacob to show Samara to her quarters. She naturally took the chance to question Jacob, about himself and the Commander.
"You're not the first one to ask me that," Jacob said with a chuckle after she asked him why a man such as he was with Cerberus. "The Commander asked the exact same thing."
"And what did you say?" she prompted.
"That I'm with Cerberus as long as they get the right things done," Jacob said. "No less, no more."
"And do you have faith that Commander Shepard will get the 'right' things done?" Samara asked, the most direct question she had asked to date.
To his credit, Jacob gave it thought. "Yes," Jacob said eventually. "Sometimes his methods worry me, but I believe in his goals."
But for Samara, it was the methods that were the concern. One day, the mission would be completed. One day, there would be a reckoning.
---
Time… does not heal all wounds. Samara knew that, from centuries of experience. But she also knew that it did not make doubts go away. Shepard's actions were one such doubt, and they did not become any more clear the more she witnessed. His allies ranged from those noble heroes such as Jacob, or Garrus, men of honor whom she was proud to call allies.
But then there was the like of Jack, of Grunt. Sociopaths, barbarous savages in action and character. Had she not be sworn to Shepard's service, she would have brought them down for the good of the galaxy. No, for the good of the people of the galaxy.
If she had not been sworn to Shepard's service, she may well have killed him for the good of the people of the galaxy.
Oh, he believed in a greater good. That was clear. He was not a hypocrite, though being so would have made him that much less dangerous.
But he cared not about individuals. He didn't care about Justice. Lives were numbers and statistics to him. That the targets of his actions were mercenaries, thugs, people she herself would justly take down, that was irrelevant. Not to her, but to him. She worried that one day he would find that an innocent's life was the quickest way to victory, and she would be bound to stand by and watch.
He had not crossed the line, yet. Perhaps he never would. But she had fought one Spectre before, one of the best. When her Oath was fulfilled and she was released…
---
"Suit up." She had barely opened her eyes from meditation before Garrus threw her the mask she used in low-oxygen environments. "Shepard wants us ready to move in half an hour," he warned.
"What is the mission?" she asked, fastening the mask. They had a working relationship, and a rather amiable one, but it wasn't in her nature to beat around the bush.
"Possible terrorist attack," he said. "Nothing confirmed, but Shepard's on guard today."
Samara knit her brow. "I was aware he had some obligation or another, but I wasn't aware what it was."
"There's a ceremony going on today, and there's a large protest march going on at the same time. Cerberus got word that some radicals are planning to take action. Shepard wants us on notice, in case it's something more."
Samara frowned. Even if asked to do something by the Human Councilman from the Citadel, it wasn't often Shepard did any sort of public function. It was even rarer that he was placed to protect people.
"Where is this ceremony taking place?" she asked.
Garrus looked at her, surprised she hadn't heard.
"Torfan."
---
The Shepard Memorial Flame on Torfamn was, appropriately enough, built on top the entrance of the underground bunker that had made Shepard infamous years before saving the Citadel. Built not long after his death, it was of the 'eternal flame' theme that memorials were inclined to do, and in this case it was directly fueled by the base's own power system. While the underground fortress had been demolished, its entrances collapsed, it still served the purpose of marking Shepard's legacy.
Not that everyone appreciated it. There were yearly protests, ranging from those organized by the Batarian Hegemony to liberally-inclined individuals who decried the war crimes committed by Shepard in executing even the surrendering pirates and slavers. For groups protesting Alliance brutality, for those criticizing the Alliance's role in driving the Batarians out of the galactic community, or even the professional protesters, toppling the Eternal Flame of Shepard would be a coup, putting them on the face of galactic news sites for weeks.
Of course, the Alliance didn't want that to happen. They had their own reputation, as well as Shepard's, to defend. And so the Eternal Flame had an honor guard with a few too many men and a few too many heat sinks to be called 'ceremonial', constantly servicing the Memorial at all times. And that was excluding the riot police below.
Shepard knew this. Knew it all. But as he stood atop the bunker, looking down at the massive crowd below, it just wasn't on his mind.
"You know," he shared aloud to the nearby soldiers who could hear, "when I took this place, I thought this rooftop was the worst defensive position to attack I'd seen in years. Great elevation, and perfect visibility for miles. Yet I pushed through her losing only eight soldiers. Figured it must have been weaker than it looked from below."
"And now that you're on top?" asked a Lance Corporal watching over the ramparts.
Shepard flashed a grin. "I could kill everyone down there without losing a man," he said. "Those Batarians just didn't know how to fight."
"I'd like to think that artillery coming on the roof might have had something to do with that," said another member of the guard, a veteran of Torfan himself.
"Only if you hide in the holes," Shepard replied dismissively, indicating the artillery-proof spider holes that littered the roof. Many Batarians had been slaughtered while hiding in those pockets of relative safety.
Whatever else he was going to say, however, was cut off when a brick sailed past his head, the low-gravity of the moon taking it to unimaginable heights. Heads turned, looking into the crowd to see who had thrown it. It wasn't hard, though, as the person who had was standing on a platform over the rest of the crowd.
"Shepard!" cried the man. "You're a Butcher, and nothing else! We will not let you get away with your crimes! We will bring you to justice!" he shouted, waving a fist. All around him, like-minded humans, and even a few Batarians, shook their fists in solidarity. "We will take you to court, and leave you to rot in jail with the rest of the war criminals! You betrayed the Council at the Citadel! You betrayed your men here on Torfan! You are a traitor to the galaxy and to the human race for your murders!"
Samara watched passively, herself largely ignored by the mob below. She could see, however, other members of her squad taking positions. Garus, farther back in a sniper's nest, was painting the brick-thrower with an invisible laser.
"Who's he?" she heard Shepard ask. "He seems to have something against me."
"That's Neil," said the captain of the Honor Guard. "Professional angry-man, if you know what I mean. He gets a lot of attention, and power, in finding some cause or another to protest. He's led more than one attempt to stop the flame."
"Is he dangerous?" Shepard asked.
"He's not lethal-force dangerous. He's just a useful idiot, taking advantage of his right to protest. Admiral Hackett's ordered he not be arrested unless he does something remarkably stupid, so he gets away with protesting."
Shepard grunted, summarizing his opinion on such rights. Hackett couldn't risk a PR disaster by being too heavy handed on the matter, and so the very memorial to the renegade Butcher of Torfan couldn't be handled in a way the Butcher of Torfan would have liked.
"Well, as long as he stays that way-" Shepard began, but was cut off as the sound of rounds in the air echoed over the Memorial. Reacting to years of experience, he immediately ducked to cover, even before his kinetic barriers had a chance to flash.
"Snipers!" half the people at the Flame shouted. Screams came from below as protestors dropped to the ground, more shots being fired into the air.
Shepard's own team, and the Honor Guard, tried to counter. But there were too many protestors, too much movement. It wasn't until it was too late, until a hostage situation had already been established, that they could track the shooters. Where once a roaring mob had been, there was a terrified mass, on the ground and hands over head. The attackers were the only ones standing. Circled around where Neil had been inciting the crowd, in the brief ending of fire they had taken positions around whatever cover they could.
In the broad, open expanse of Torfan, that cover was the protestors.
"Shepard!" roared their apparent leader, a Batarian. "Show yourself, or the humans die!" He was massive, especially for a Batarian, and held some sort of heavy weapon in one hand alone. The other arm held onto Neil, using him as a squirming source of cover.
Cautiously, once his shields had recharged, Shepard rose, holding the fire of his snipers with one hand. "And just who are you supposed to be?" he shouted down.
"I am Torfan!" the Batarian shouted, baring his teeth. "I am the ghosts of your past, and I have come to destroy you!"
"You are an idiot," Shepard returned, drawing a bead on the Batarian. "And fortunately, I can kill idiots. Tell you what, though: you surrender now, and I don't take off your head."
"What, and risk killing the human?" it asked, shifting Neil with one arm alone. "I have a bomb on my armor: you shoot me, and everyone around me goes. You fire a shot, and my men start taking down these humans. You shoot them, they explode too," he said, gesturing to the crowd around them.
"You think that will stop me?" Shepard asked, almost confused. "Me? The Butcher of Torfan?"
But the one who called himself Torfan laughed, its voice-amplifiers making him heard over everything else.
"I've watched you," it boasted. "And I know how you act. All threats and bravado, but you don't kill that much. Not really. You let your reputation do your work for you, so that you don't have to kill. I've seen C-SEC kill more people with less cause than you do. I know the choices you've made, and you're a goody two-shoes, Shepard."
There was a peculiar silence that fell over the field. Everyone watched, listened, as any would do when confronted with something so contrary to their belief of reality that they just have to hear it out. Samara felt herself watch as well, though she had been with Shepard for some time.
"You're just a pussy do-gooder, Shepard," Torfan continued. "You go around helping rescuing helpless Quarians, returning dead bodies to grieving families. You saved the Asari Consort's reputation simply because you were asked. You spent mountains of effort to rescue an entire colony of controlled people, when you could have shot them and been done with it." The silence was stronger than ever, and the crowd watched.
"Look at him!" Torfan cried, looking at the crowd. "This man you fear, you hate, and he's nothing! Oh, you remember him for abandoning the Council, but he did that to have the best chance to save you! Every action you hate him for, every action you fear him for, he does to save the most of you possible! The Greatest Good, the greatest number! You fear a charlatan, a man who wants you to fear him because he can't work with anything else!"
There was the silence again. The damning silence, as people saw and believed. Their expressions…
There was once a philosopher who argued that a shared interpretation is reality. Regardless of whether something is true or not, the consensus that it is can shape realty.
"What do you want?" asked Shepard. It might have been a demand for motivation. Or it might have been a question of how to buy this Batarian off.
"I want to destroy you," Torfan said. "More thoroughly than you destroyed this base. And I will do that by showing the truth about you, Shepard. I am going to climb this bunker and destroy your Flame, and then surrender to whoever wants to arrest me. And you will not stop me, because if I so much have a hand laid on me I will kill this entire crowd."
It was a challenge. A test of character, and everyone watched, Samara most of all. While these protestors were obnoxious, insulting, they were innocent in this manner. If Torfan was right, if Shepard did care for the greater good, then these people, whose only crime it was to be here-
Shepard lowered his weapon, and the world gasped. When he took a wicked heavy weapon off his back, it didn't have the same weight or power as that single pistol had had.
"Legion!" Shepard called.
"Shepard Commander?" the geth answered.
"How many shots will it take for this Arc Projector to take out all the gunmen below?"
The AI did computations at the speed of light. "With the lightning-chain effect at full power, one shot has a ninety-four percent chance of disabling all threats below, Shepard Commander."
"You heard the machine," Shepard informed. "I'm not in the habit of giving more than once chance. Surrender or die."
But Legion had already been continuing, and could not honestly stop.
"Warning," the geth platform prefaced. "Heavy weapon unable to differentiate between friendly and foe, and current will follow path of least resistance. There will be significant casualties to un-shielded civilians until the point at which current reaches non-lethal levels."
Torfan laughed.
"I heard your pretty machine, Shepard," it said. "And if you shoot me, then you'll kill a lot of innocent people who wouldn't die otherwise. Starting with this one," it said, indicating Neil. "I'll call your bluff, Shepard." Torfan stepped forward.
One step, and Shepard did not kill him.
Two steps and a laugh, and dead still did not come.
Three steps, and the crowd was rising to its feet, its fear overcome.
At four steps, the Arc Projector finished charging and fired.
Lightning flashed from the end, following the path ionized by invisible lasers. The bolt first hit Neil, stopping his heart instantly, before traveling to Torfan. Torfan's kinetic barriers overloaded, the mass-effect generator exploding, but even before that the lightning jumped to a civilian behind. Without the benefits of a kinetic barrier, that one died in an instant. So did the next one, and the next, and so on.
A few shots were fired into the crowd, but soon the other gunmen were hit by the lightening, triggering explosions which cut off the chain in an explosive dead link. As the bits and pieces were falling back into the ground, the uninterrupted chains had finally reached non-lethal levels, becoming 'merely' debilitating taser shocks that spread through the entire protest march. Later videos of the incident would convince the Alliance, C-SEC, and other police agencies to invest in their own, lower-powered Arc Projectors, capable of tazing entire crowds at once.
But as that was happening, Torfan was rising. A tough Batarian, Torfan none the less stared at Shepard in shock. "But- you-"
"He's still alive, Legion," Shepard noted.
"There was a six-percent probability that at least one gunman would not be killed," Legion reminded.
"Time to finish the job," Shepard stated, charging the Arc Projector again.
"You!" Torfan blurt out. "You're not supposed to- I watched you! I've seen you, how you really act! I know you aren't what the vids portray you as!"
"No, I'm not," Shepard admitted, the Arc Projector humming as it neared full capacitance.
"But I earned that reputation."
The bolt of lightning fried Torfan to a crisp. With no more living targets to jump to, the bolt descended to the Ground, dissipating into the floor below everyone's feet.
Scientifically, it shouldn't have had anything to do with the way everyone's hair stood on end as Shepard turned around, eyes and scars glowing even through the dark glass of his helmet.
---
They had had just one more conversation after that day. The immediate aftermath, on the ship, she had gone to his quarters.
There had been… words. Disagreements.
Only the Code had prevented there being bloodshed.
"Do you or do you not accept that the ends justify the means, Justicar?" Shepard had demanded of her. "You yourself are a vigilante: you're very profession is a crime!"
"I am bound by a Code higher and more demanding than any mundane laws," she had (had she really snapped?) replied back. "Justice can only come through proper actions, and unjustified actions will never bring it about."
"Fuck justice!" he had exclaimed, angry at the day's contests, at her confrontation, and slandering that single highest value she had clung to for longer than his people had been in space. "Fuck your justice, and screw your Code! Life is what's most important, and anything, anything, that would get in the way of it is only fit to be stepped over."
"And just how do your actions protect those lives?" Samara demanded, as much as she was able to. Which meant it came in a neutral, calm, tone, and was all the more inciting for it. "You murdered dozens, maimed hundreds, to kill a single Batarian. And for what? Was he threatening your own life? Was he threatening to kill everyone afterwards? No, he was going to destroy your memorial, a memorial for a death you did not keep. You killed him to protect your own reputation."
That silenced Shepard, in a way she had not expected. He narrowed his eyes, grit his teeth, and almost looked in pain when he spoke.
"If you can not see why what I did was vital to the protection of this Galaxy and all the people in it," Shepard grit, "then you are a shortsighted fool who has no perspective or grounds to criticize me. Now get out! That is a command."
"It is very fortunate for you that I am bound to you, Shepard," Samara replied, rising. "Otherwise our first encounter would surely have ended in violence." Shepard said nothing, but one possibility was clear.
'So will our last.'
It needn't have referred to the Collectors to remain just as true.
---
There were no lengths Shepard wouldn't go to complete his mission. She wasn't like that, but she came as close as her Code allowed. She had even gone back to Shepard, asking for his help to capture Morinth. After their last 'discussion', she hadn't expected him to help, but he had. He had gone out, seduced a Ardat-Yakshi, and willing entered into its layer, kept it enthralled with its conquest while she herself had been unable to pursue.
Centuries of pursuit. Centuries of living by the Code. And now matched with the demon she had once called her daughter.
"I am as strong as she is!" Morinth cried, beseeching Shepard to end this deadlock. "Let me join you, and I will be everything she was and more!"
"I am already sworn to your service, Shepard!" Samara reminded him. "I will carry through and accomplish your mission as I promised. Let us finish this!"
Shepard steadied himself, looking at both Asari as they remained stalemated. He made his choice, as he always had, and Samara felt despair as he edged around the biotic sphere and towards her.
"Morinth will be more useful to me," he said.
"Morinth won't be bound by any Code to turn on me the moment this mission is over," he meant.
For just a moment, she saw that it could never have worked between them. Not with him. Her Code, which she hung to like a raft in a storm after Morinth's departure, had become an anchor around her neck. The very Code and morals that she had lived by, now killed her. Her eyes softened, giving up after so very long.
"You will regret this," she warned him as he held her arm away.
"No, I won't," he said, releasing her as Morinth blasted her to the ground.
And he probably wouldn't, she realized, even as Morinth struck the blow that killed her.
---
MISSION SUMMARY
LEVEL 5 CLEARANCE ONLY
Samara has dealt with the Ardat-Yakshi. She remains loyal to Shepard personally, and prior antagonism between the two appears to have been resolved: favorable resolution of mission likely cause. Loyalty of the Justicar beyond question, given apparent bonds of oath rendered to Shepard. Better than hoped. Cerberus activities will not be affected further by presence of Shepard's team. Relieved to have Justicar' mission completed. Unfortunately, body of Ardat-Yakshi could not be taken for study. Genetic abnormality could have been useful. Subject's expertise would have made her a valuable team member if sociopathic tendencies were mitigated.
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MISSION SUMMARY
LEVEL 5 CLEARANCE ONLY
Torfan Memorial Incident has spread across Galatic News. Shepard's reputation threatened by terrorist 'Torfan', risking a collapse in his intimidation-factor and ability to resolve/avert conflicts solely by reputation. Shepard's response, while extreme, reaffirmed his reputation beyond doubt, including public controversy and protests. As ability to intimidate vital to mission success in order to save galaxy, judged worth necessary sacrifices to maintain. Recommend tightening of observational security to prevent similar intelligence leaks by observers similar to 'Torfan'. Test usage of Arc Projector complete success: while fatality count comparable to effect of suicide bombers alone, crowd-wide effects promising in terms of future crowd-control prospects.
---
