Chapter 4: Revolting Revelations
It took over 20 minutes to make it back to his quarters. Unlike the Citadel, Arcturus had no massive shuttle system; instead, public trams were used to cover long distances. The station simply wasn't large enough for anything else to be necessary.
Opening the door, he found that Liara had unpacked their possessions. Despite being immaculately organized, the room had a homey, familiar feel to it.
She wasn't there, however. Checking the chrono by the bed, he realized that it was only 2100. Wish I felt like it was that early…
He glanced over to the desk, seeing a data pad placed uncharacteristically haphazardly. Activating its screen, he saw that Liara had left a message for him.
Ash is dragging me off to a club or something. Shesbarely giving me time to write thi
John actually laughed: not only were there typos, but he was sure that Ash had yanked Liara away as she was typing the message.
Liara hated clubs. But for Ash, she'd most definitely make an exception, and so would he.
However, Arcturus had no clubs, at least not in the traditional sense. Besides, Ash would want to spend time with her family in places where they could actually hear each other.
That narrowed it down to a few places within reasonable civilian walking distance. He'd have to check them all, but first, he had to change.
"I swear, if I ever have to ride in that thing again, it will be too soon." Garrus downed another glass of water—Arcturus rarely saw turian visitors, so dextro-based food was rare.
Their location of choice was something of a cross between a bar and a restaurant. Pool and poker tables were scattered around the room, with dinner tables mixed in between.
"Is it really that bad?" Hannah asked. Having never been a passenger in the Mako, she had no way to relate.
Garrus leaned forward, hands on the table. "Dear Spirits, YES. I doubt you'd find a rougher ride in the entire damn galaxy. It's like he enjoys driving off cliffs at full speed!"
Neil couldn't hold his laughter in any more, and bowled over.
"It's not funny!" the turian protested. "You try riding with Shepard! I guarantee you'll be too busy screaming for your life to laugh!" To his dismay, the human only laughed even harder.
Hannah rolled her eyes at her husband's antics, though the small, barely concealed smile showed a loving appreciation for them.
"Honey," she started. When he didn't respond, she whacked him in the back of the head. "Neil, stop laughing. You're the one who sent messages of encouragement about his…driving." Almost immediately, his laughter intensified. "That's the point!" he managed.
"And here I thought it would be difficult to find you guys," said a voice from behind them. He took a seat at their table, leaning his elbows forward in interest. "And what's this I'm hearing about my driving?"
"Oh," Garrus started, clearly ranting in his usual way. "Just how you take enjoyment out of nearly getting us killed with the Mako. Sane people don't laugh as they drive off cliffs. Into lava."
"I knew exactly what I was doing!" John defended. "And there's no problem with laughing at your utter terror. You'd think," he continued, shifting his gaze to his parents, "that he'd learn to trust me after the fifth time."
Garrus crossed his arms, clearly upset that he'd been beaten in a match of sarcastic wit.
A tap on John's shoulder indicated the presence of a particularly relieved asari. "I was wondering if you had gotten my message…though I suppose if the meeting went longer, it wouldn't have mattered…"
She took a seat behind him and began kneading his neck muscles. "How was it?"
"Well, I've got good news and bad news," he said. It was all he could do to stifle a chuckle.
The others leaned in, obviously interested.
"I get to be the Alliance poster boy for who-knows-how-long, running a one-man media blitz. But I'm not allowed to sucker-punch reporters or shove guns in their faces, which spoils all the fun."
"And the good news?" Hannah inquired. Instinctively knowing that Neil was starting another laughing fit, she kicked his shin to expedite John's answer.
Scanning the room, he saw his quarry. "Hey, Ash!" he called. While engaged with her family (and Tali, oddly enough), she heard his yell. Leaving the table with a look of mild confusion, she walked over to her CO. "Sir?"
"I'm gonna need a gargle blaster. Something that'll knock Liara off her feet. Put it on my tab," he instructed, barely managing to keep a straight face. He imagined that if he had seen Liara's beginnings of a protest, he wouldn't have been able to. "On the double, Operations Chief."
Ashley's face clearly indicated that she sorted through the perplexing order for a moment before her mind caught up with the last two words of his order. "S-sir?"
Still managing to keep his "command face" on, he chided her. "What part of 'on the double' do you not understand, Operations Chief?"
He enjoyed every moment of her being unable to process her shock, as she began sputtering an acknowledgement as she made her way to the bar—nearly stumbling over a chair in the process.
"Oh, you're evil," Garrus joked.
Liara, on the other hand, was less playful. "I don't drink!" she insisted. "At least, not like that!" Her protests left her increasingly more flustered. "I—you know what I mean! Stop laughing!"
All of the pent up humor had been released, causing him to mimic his father for a few moments. "Not even to celebrate Ashley's promotion?"
Regaining her composure, she crossed her arms and glared at him, though her smile ruined the image.
"Not even," he added, laying on the pressure, "to celebrate my promotion?"
That got nothing more than an arched eyebrow—a gesture she had learned from him and grown fond of—and a slightly bigger smile.
"Not even," he said, putting all of his cards on the table, "probably getting Tali the best pilgrimage gift ever?"
Her glare lessened in intensity considerably, until it looked more like a gesture of amusement. "Fine," she conceded. "But only because you're going to drink exactly what I am, double the amount."
He understood her condition immediately—she didn't want to be caught at such a huge disadvantage. But she should have known better. "Fine. I'll go get it set up." He left the table, reaching Ashley quickly.
"Hey," John began. "I need a favor, Ash." He ignored her oddly sentimental look. "I need you to get a drink order for me that looks like what Liara's getting, and is twice the size, but is actually a weak drink. Got all that?"
It took her a moment, but she nodded. "Good," he said, gripping her shoulder affectionately. "You never let me down."
Leaving her to her thoughts and task, he returned to his table. "Happy?" he asked the asari.
"Wait, wait, wait," Neil interrupted. "You got promoted?"
"Yeah," John answered with a shrug. "Strange, huh? I stole an Alliance ship from dock and got promoted for it."
"You mean you stole your own ship back from Udina," his mother clarified. "So, guess I'll have to call you Staff Commander, now, eh?"
"It's Major, actually," he said, unable to hold back a self-satisfied smirk.
"Oh, well then," she added, tone dripping with sarcasm. "I guess I'll have to be saluting you from now on, won't we, Neil?"
"Oh, yeah," his father agreed, catching on. "I'll salute with one hand while holding up the baby holos with the other…"
John looked scandalized. "You wouldn't."
"I've gotta see this," Garrus said.
"Oh?" Liara joined in. "I don't believe I've seen these holos before…"
Feeling his grip on the situation slipping—a very rare occurrence, he realized—he could only send a pleading look at his parents.
Hannah started exaggerated motions with a matching tone, obviously reenacting a childhood memory. "No, no, sweetie, I'm pretty sure you won't be lifting anything with biotics just because you're trying really hard."
John wanted to turn invisible. Or teleport somewhere else—anywhere else. He'd rather fight off a platoon of geth than sit here and be humiliated in front of his friends and lover—all of whom looked extremely amused.
Garrus didn't hold back any laughter at all, his mandibles swinging animatedly. Liara wasn't quite so overt, but her look said it all.
"Or how about the time," Neil continued, "we caught him about to go swimming in the ship's water supply?"
"Couldn't even swim," Hannah said.
"Even if he could, it was a tank of water. You'd just drown."
Dear god, please let it end. He wasn't a religious man by any means, but he prayed all the same.
"I'm sure Liara would love to see the vid of you trying to sing Love's Requiem by Green Rain," Hannah teased.
"You are," John said, summoning the last vestiges of composure he had left, "amazingly embarrassing parents."
"Why thank you," Neil said, adding a mocking bow for good measure, "we do try so hard."
Ashley arrived with the drinks, though she brought her family and Tali in tow. "Drink up, Skipper!"
Welcoming the interruption (and if he was really lucky, a change in topic), he took his drink and began downing it without preamble. I might just order enough to make me pass out, he considered.
Liara stared at her drink as if it was poison. Seeing as it was green, he couldn't blame her. "You did agree to this," he reminded.
Steeling her resolve (and ignoring the excited looks of everyone around her), she picked up the glass and took a sip.
In between gagging and coughing, she managed to find words. "This is revolting!"
"A deal's a deal," John commented.
Fixing him with a withering glare, she downed half of the glass before setting it down in a coughing fit.
He and his mother managed to hold their laughter out of respect and fondness for the woman, but no one else felt like doing the same. To Liara's credit, she didn't seem phased by the situation; John was incredibly proud of her for that.
She took the glass of water he offered gladly, drinking it in the hopes of easing the taste. He'd never been much of a drinker himself, but she hadn't drunk anything but wine (or its equivalent) in her lifetime, and never in excess.
He wondered if she was as excited about the prospect as he was. Given how determined she seemed, he guessed 'yes.'
It was going to be an interesting night.
Some would call it cruel that he was recording the whole thing. He defended himself by saying he wouldn't pass it around. It would stay a private memory, he said.
"Or the best kind of blackmail," Garrus suggested.
"If you even consider that," Hannah warned, "you won't even be able to walk in public when I'm done."
"Wha…? Ev'rithin feels…strange…" Liara slurred. She was staring at her hand, flexing her fingers. "I don' get it…"
Ashley put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It's okay, honey, you'll get used to it eventually."
"No!" the asari protested. "You don' ged it…s'all…strange."
Tali shook her head at her friend. "I never thought I'd say it, but I'm glad you guys never tried to talk me into drinking. Keelah, what a fool of myself I would have made…"
"Just be sure not to tease her about this for a while," John said in an unusually serious tone. "I don't want her regressing."
Knowing how seriously Liara could be affected, they agreed without hesitation.
The asari's eyes suddenly widened in realization, and she paused her near-constant movement. "I've gotta pee."
"I feel terrible, now," Hannah said ruefully, "for letting this happen."
"Eat, drink, and be merry," Neil commented rather seriously, "for tomorrow we feel like assholes."
Prime Minister Black's Office, Same Time
At only 35 years old, the Alliance government was very young, even by human standards.
But for matters outside of Earth, it was the most powerful human government in existence and one of the most powerful governments in the galaxy.
Her office wasn't overly special—something Joanna actually took pride in—but it did contain one awe-inspiring feature: a large, panoramic window overlooking the Arcturus Fleet. It never failed to remind her of the weight of her decisions, many of which impacted billions of lives.
This one was no different.
"Are you certain?" she asked, her voice little more than a whisper. The implications of the reports were staggering. As soon as the Alliance realized the alien dreadnaught was something never seen before, they established the largest fleet in the Terminus systems to protect their science teams.
"We cross-referenced genetic studies of the specimens with Prothean findings. It's too close of a resemblance to be a coincidence," Dr. Samesh Gavaskar answered. Dressed in a lab coat and accompanied by several other experts, his words demanded respect. Several Alliance admirals were also present, listening to the briefing.
Joanna stood to face the window, crossing her hands behind her back. She would undoubtedly inform the Council and Citadel Embassies, but there were two options before her.
Making this information public would uproot millennia of deeply-held beliefs about their supposedly benevolent precursors. It would undoubtedly cause panic in some areas. The galactic economy would take a hit, save for military industries. Between the reemergence of the geth and the attack on the Citadel, people would feel terrified. That might not be a bad thing, she realized.
Keeping it secret would keep the galactic community and economy stable, as if nothing had happened. But some bombshells needed to be dropped.
"There's…more," Gavaskar said, hesitantly. "While analysis of weapons and technology is ongoing, it appears that the ship had a purpose unlike any other."
Joanna turned back to face him, her expression just as fatigued as everyone else in the room.
"The ship contained millions of pods, designed for holding organic life forms in stasis. For what reason, I have no idea. But it's clear that this race does not have peaceful intentions of any kind."
"And what race are we dealing with, exactly?" she asked. "You're telling me they're Protheans, but I'm sensing an addendum."
"They're Collectors," Gavaskar clarified. "But that's just the tip of the iceburg. The specimens we found were largely cybernetic, and, from what we can tell, somewhat mindless. Our best guess is that they're drones, being controlled by a queen of some kind."
"Like the Rachni," she said.
"Exactly. But still, even the Rachni males were intelligent—the adult males didn't even need any direction from a queen to act like a sapient creature."
"What else?"
"What we know about the Collectors only makes this even more confusing. They have the ability to manipulate at least one mass relay—the Omega 4—and they're known for exchanging advanced technology for odd combinations of organic specimens. Biotic batarians, human twins, etcetera. Either they're trying to design a bioweapon more effective than any in history, or they're trying to learn something about our genetics."
Her eyes shifted to the carpet, unfocused, as she stroked her chin. Joanna mulled over the possibilities of what all of this information meant. "So why attack the Normandy? And why have a ship clearly designed to transport millions of organic prisoners? What caused them to change their behavior so radically?"
Hackett spoke up. "I think we need to hold off consideration of making this information public until we find out what we're dealing with. And for that, we need the Council's help."
Dugal turned his head at his colleague questioningly. "Spectres? They report directly to the Council. We'd never get the full story."
"We will now," Hackett responded. "Anderson's a former Captain himself. No way he'll keep us in the dark."
"True," Dugal conceded. "But what about Shepard? His ship's under repair, and he's doing a media blitz."
"He's unavailable for an investigation," Joanna agreed. "But I want his opinion on all this, regardless. He knows more about the Protheans than anyone else alive."
"I'm not so sure," Dugal contradicted. "Those Prothean beacons may have clouded his judgment regarding them. You heard what he said, that "Reaper" myth. You bring him into this, and the next thing you know, he'll be racing off to the Council to argue about conspiracy theories. He's an excellent soldier, but—"
"Anderson believes him," Hackett interrupted, his tone slightly hostile. "And he's humanity's Councilor. A former Captain, and an N7. I know both of them, and if they believe it, then so do I. Not to mention that Shepard's crew believe him, too."
"Shepard's ability to inspire steadfast loyalty in his followers, Anderson included, does not constitute evidence of this outlandish myth—"
"Enough, both of you," Joanna ordered. "I'm bringing him up here ASAP. I want his input, regardless of how valid it is. It might give us the inspiration to reconsider this info in a way that makes sense."
"You want us to wait here?" Dugal asked.
"You have a more important briefing to go to, Admiral?"
"Point taken, ma'am."
"…for tomorrow we feel like assholes."
Tali nodded her head in agreement, but Garrus looked entirely unashamed. Ashley took Liara to the bathroom, though her sisters stepped in to help once the difficulty of keeping Liara upright became apparent.
"She's gonna be pissed at you," Neil said. "I forsee a 'no sex for a week' in your future."
"What makes you think she'll be able to wait that long?" John retorted. Before he could continue, a sharp beeping noise emanated from his pocket. Fishing the cell out of his pants, he checked the message.
From: Adm. Hackett
To: Mjr. Shepard
Priority: Extremely Urgent
Get up to the Minister's office ASAP. Don't worry about protocol. Respond to confirm receipt.
Noticing the confused look on her son's face, Hannah asked what the message was about.
"It's from Hackett," he replied. "He's telling me to get up to the Prime Minister's office ASAP."
"But you just met with her!" she protested.
Neil, on the other hand, looked calm and nonchalant. "Never a dull moment, huh?"
John stood up, hammering out a quick reply. "At least he's learned by now. I'll see you guys later, gotta go."
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"So, what do you make of all this?" Joanna asked. While everyone in the room looked to him intently, Dugal's expression held a fair bit of skepticism.
"I know exactly what to make of this," John answered. "Well, most of it, anyway." Really, it was just a side note to him, but judging from the looks of his superiors, it was some gigantic, Earth-shattering mystery.
"And?" she asked.
"Well, I'd tell you," he prefaced, "but you probably wouldn't believe me, so I'm not sure if I should waste my time."
"I knew it," Dugal responded snidely. "It's this damn 'Reaper' myth again."
"Major," Joanna said, sending a short glare at the admiral before resuming her attention on the Spectre. "I'm not going to hold anything against you if you speak your mind. We've got a plethora of questions, and hardly any answers."
John took a moment to gage her intent before answering. "Yes, it's related to the Reapers. The Collectors are obviously agents for the Reapers. The extensive cybernetics and lack of any sentience or autonomy whatsoever puts them closer to husks than indoctrinated slaves."
"Indoctrination?" she questioned. John realized that the reports he sent to the Alliance about Virmire probably never went all the way up to the top. That, or Prime Minister Black was newly elected.
"Sovereign was capable of slowly and subtly brainwashing people in close proximity towards serving it without question. In essence, it's like reprogramming an organic mind. The more strongly indoctrinated someone is, the more mindless they become. Matriarch Benezia initially joined Saren to try and steer him back onto the right path, but she fell victim to indoctrination right along with him."
It took several moments for Joanna to process that information, but no one else spoke during the silence. "Okay. As you were saying?"
"Your intel says that the Collectors can manipulate the Omega 4 relay. They can manipulate relays because the Reapers built them. They attacked the Normandy because they wanted to kill the group that was directly responsible for the destruction of one of their kind. My guess is that they see me as a significant threat." He paused, looking at the floor idly with a small smile. "Good," he said, mostly to himself.
"What about the Prothean connection?" Joanna pressed.
"The Protheans were wiped out by the Reapers, which is why there is extremely little evidence of their people, while the relays and Citadel remain. It seems that some of the Protheans that were indoctrinated were turned into the Collectors. Tools."
"Think about what you're saying!" Dugal shouted. "Protheans being turned into these…things? If they're tools, then how are they being controlled, from where, and by whom?"
Shepard took his rant in stride. "By advanced technology utilizing the implants, unknown but not entirely relevant, and by the Reapers. Sovereign did something similar with Saren; it implanted him and then used the implants to control his corpse."
That shut the admiral up.
"And the pods? Why do they collect random samples of people, and why have a ship capable of transporting millions of them?
John stood up, slowly walking to the window. He considered the possibilities, but only speculation came up. "I don't know," he was finally forced to admit. "If they were trying to make a bioweapon, they would have used it already, instead of a riskier brute-force attack. And you wouldn't need millions of subjects to develop a bioweapon."
"True," said Dugal. "So that Collector ship is for something else entirely. But what could you possibly need millions of live specimens for?"
"Husks, maybe?" Shepard suggested. "I have no idea why you'd need millions of them ahead of time, but that's the only logical explanation I can think of."
"The husks were created by geth technology," Dugal insisted.
"That's what you assume," Shepard argued. "But since no one's conducted a successful scouting mission of geth space, I can't prove you wrong outright."
"He's not some crazed loon," Hackett said. "Hell, he sounds more convincing than you do."
Dugal looked less tense than before. "I suppose you're right," he admitted. "I don't believe in this Reaper theory. But it's worth…consideration."
"If Shepard is right," Joanna surmised, "then the Collectors have to be limited in number. And the Omega 4 relay has to lead somewhere isolated, so that they aren't stumbled upon or reachable by other species."
"Agreed," Hackett said. John gave a nod as well.
"Then we need a way to follow them through the Omega 4," Dugal suggested. "We need to take the fight to them. Not to mention the intel and tech we could find."
"Then that's what we'll do," the Prime Minister concluded. "Meeting adjourned. Everyone, thank you for your time."
Three Days Later
"Come in."
Garrus entered Shepard's quarters with ease, long having grown comfortable around the Major. But still, John's request for this meeting had sounded unusually formal. "Shepard?"
"Take a seat, Garrus," the spectre said, gesturing to a nearby chair.
"What's this about, Major?" This felt like the meetings they'd had in the captain's quarters, where they went over the decisions made by each of them in a previous op. What is he getting at?
"One final lesson." Before Garrus could ask what he meant, the human continued. "Have you heard of the human expression, 'the ends justify the means'?"
He nodded. "Yes. The turians have a similar phrase. I think all species do."
Shepard looked at the floor, as if lost in thought. "A lot of people debate whether the ends justify the means, or if they don't—or to what degrees. I can't give you a definite answer. The galaxy isn't black and white."
That last statement cut right through his thick skin. One of the hardest lessons Garrus had to learn was that things were rarely that simple.
John shifted his now intense gaze to his friend's eyes. "But what I can tell you is this: the means used to achieve an end shape the end which results." He paused, continuing his look. Garrus resisted the urge to shift uncomfortably; he felt like he was being analyzed. "Remember that."
Garrus nodded sharply. "I will," he said, with no hint of hesitation.
After what seemed like another eternity, Shepard continued. "You're a damn fine warrior. You're determined, brave, and most importantly, compassionate. You know to do things the right way, not the easy way.
"Spectre candidates are evaluated by spectres over the course of several missions. Ultimately, the Council approves of their induction, but considering one of them already likes you, and the others know you're a hero—and a good friend of mine—I doubt they'll disagree with me here. So, how about it?"
It took several moments for Garrus' mind to catch up with his ears. "You…you're putting my name forward to be a Spectre candidate?"
His answer was only a smile, at first. "No, Garrus. I'm asking you if you want to be a Spectre. If not, I completely understand, and when we get back into the fight, I'd love to have you at my side. But if you do want to be one, then I need an answer."
"Just one question." The turian's features were unusually stoic, which Shepard took as a good sign.
"Yeah?"
"When you get back into the fight, will I get to be at your side, no matter what?"
John was heartened by those words; he couldn't ask for a stronger expression of friendship and loyalty. "If the Council has a problem with it, I'll tell 'em where to shove it."
"Then yes. If I get to watch."
A ghost of a smile played at the human's lips. "Just be sure to record it. It'd be a nice thing to show my kids one day. And yours."
New York City, Earth – Two Weeks Later
The R&R had been fantastic. After Saren, the geth, the Reapers…he'd forgotten what it was like to truly relax. Given all that he had recently accomplished, he actually let himself do so.
But it was time to get back to work. The Normandy was under repair (and redesign, according to feedback and lessons learned). Until it finished, the rest of the crew were temporarily reassigned to various postings. Ashley was going to head her own Rapid Response Team in the Terminus, while Tali returned to the flotilla with an Alliance delegation in tow. Wrex had gone off to Tuchanka shortly after the Battle of the Citadel, and Spectre Agent Vakarian had been assigned to partner with another Spectre for the time being.
Lucky them, Shepard moped. Interacting with the media made him more nervous than facing a platoon of geth.
He wasn't kidding.
But today was day one, where he'd be meeting with a famous political commentator.
"I don't believe I have your full attention, Mr. Shepard."
John shook himself from his musings. In front of him stood the head of his security detail, Janine Walters. Her short black hair, tied into a small pony tail, and brown eyes didn't necessarily stand out at a glance, but the way she carried herself set her apart. "Sorry. You were saying something about…I forgot, actually."
Her expression became even stiffer, if possible. "Do you want to die, Mr. Shepard?"
"Major," he corrected. "Major Shepard. Normally I'm not a stickler about protocol, but calling me 'Mister' just feels all kinds of wrong."
"Fine, Major. My job is to ensure your safety. So I suggest you start giving a damn about that, because there are people out there who are crazy enough to try to kill you."
"You've got my attention," he said seriously.
"Good. Now, Earth is home to some extremist groups that won't take kindly to your tolerant, possibly pro-alien, views. Even if that wasn't the case, some assassins do what they do out of mental instability or fame. JFK, a famous American president, suffered that fate. I don't want a repeat of history here."
She leaned forward, continuing. "You do not give us the slip. You do not go anywhere without consulting us first. You do not disable or tamper with our surveillance devices, however much they violate your privacy. We're professionals, we're here to protect you. Keep that in mind."
"Imagine that," Liara half-joked, "you needing protection."
"Yeah, someone might actually shoot at me. I'm trembling at the mere thought."
"This isn't a laughing matter," Walters interrupted. "I don't give a damn if you're the most powerful person in the galaxy. At the end of the day, one lucky bullet, one poisoned drink, or one madman driving an aircar laden with explosives is all it takes."
John matched her seriousness. "Janine, I know that better than anybody. You can ask Saren's corpse, or the dead asari commando unit on Noveria if you don't believe me. Despite appearances, I know and appreciate what you're here for. Continue with the briefing."
"Actually," the man next to her said, "this is where I come in." Avery Gunnison was the communications expert, and acted like one. Sociable, friendly, but definitely to the point. "The man you're facing today is Clinton Eklund. He's a commentator with a viewership of a hundred million people per night. He'll be friendly, easy-going at first. Easy questions. But then he'll lay it on harder, trying to catch you off guard. He has a subtle but strong anti-alien bias. Be sure to keep in mind that he'll try to get you to say something wrong, something that comes out wrong. Then he'll attack that weak point mercilessly. So think about what you're going to say before you say it."
John turned to his lover with a pleading expression. "Why couldn't it have been a platoon of geth?"
"We're live in five…four…three…two…"
"Good evening. I'm Clinton Eklund, and welcome to Simple Sense. Today, we've got a special treat: none other than Major Shepard, first human Spectre and Hero of Elysium." Eklund turned to face John, smiling. "It's an honor to have you here, John," he said, extending his hand in greeting.
"It's great to be here," John replied, shaking the offered hand.
With that out of the way, they settled in for the interview. "So, this your first time visiting Earth?"
He wasn't kidding about starting with easy questions. "No, I actually had basic training here. Didn't get to see much, though, so this is all new to me."
"I imagine it's a bit jarring, seeing what most of humanity calls home after spending your whole life traveling from one end of the galaxy to the other," Eklund replied, still smiling.
Feeling like he was missing something, John's enthusiasm wasn't nearly as genuine now. "It's certainly eye-opening, but having a life on the move is…an experience in itself."
"It must be great to finally see the true heart of humanity after all this time, right?"
That question set off mental alarms, but John didn't have the time to figure out what Eklund trying to do. "I don't think I understand what you're getting at." There, blunt and to the point.
"A vast majority of humanity still lives on Earth," Eklund explained. "And this is where our history, our culture, our ships, and our people come from. You haven't forgotten that, have you?" The man's friendly expression and tone never faltered, contrasting with the scathing implications of his words.
Realization settled in Shepard's gut. He's trying to paint me as out of touch with humanity. "I have common sense, Clinton, and I attended school just like the rest of you. Though," he added, trying to fire back, "you're not entirely right. Quite a few Alliance personnel come from our colonies, or ships, like myself. Most of our resources come from mining operations outside of Sol. There's a whole galaxy out there," he continued, feeling like he was shooting in the right direction. "You haven't forgotten that, have you?"
Eklund's friendly demeanor failed for just a moment before sliding back into place. "Who could, after the shocking events at the Citadel a couple months ago?"
Here we are at last. Right where he wants to be, Shepard concluded. "Indeed."
"The massive assault on the throne of the Council shook the very foundations of galactic politics, did it not?"
Remembering Avery's advice, he took a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking. "I think it got everyone's attention. I think it caused people to reconsider beliefs taken for granted. But as far as wars go, the galaxy has suffered far worse."
"Ah, yes," Eklund responded. "The Rachni Wars, the Krogan Rebellions, the Geth Uprising…the Council has done a great job with preventing catastrophes that were right in front of their faces all along."
Sarcasm, now? "I'd say they've done a decent job at the least."
"A decent job?" the commentator mocked. Gone was the extremely calm, easy-going demeanor. "They let the krogan breed like mice, turn every world they inhabited into barren wastes, and then were surprised when the inherently violent krogan decided to take the rest by force! Or how about the Geth Uprising, where even your average human could tell that enslaving an army of AI machines wouldn't work out well! Was the Council surprised when they decided to invade, starting with an attack on Eden Prime? Tell me, Shepard, what was their reaction to that incident?"
Yep, he'd rather have faced a platoon of geth. Alone. It was easy enough defending his own actions and choices, like he'd been expected to do. But defending the Council? It would be difficult, if not impossible, since he had his own criticisms. "They made me a Spectre and sent me after Saren, their leader. They also put the STG on the task."
Eklund looked rather pleased. "So they sent you, one man, to take down their top Spectre, who was leading an armada of geth? Their response to an act of war by a race of genocidal AI was to send one man, and hope that the problem just went away?"
John paused for several moments, trying to come up with an answer. But Eklund took his silence as a sign of victory. "I thought so. They just did as little as possible and thought that the problem would take care of itself."
"No."
"No?" Eklund responded, still sounding too pleased with his 'gotcha' moment.
"No. The Council decided to send me to investigate. See what we were up against. Find targets to hit. Find out what Saren and the geth were after. Why they decided to move beyond the Perseus Veil for the first time in hundreds of years. Personally, I'm glad they didn't send the Citadel Fleet into the Veil and hope for the best." Now realizing that he was taking back ground, he pushed on. "See, in the military, that's what we call 'tactical suicide.' It's what happens when your knee-jerk reaction to an attack is to act with the patience and wisdom of a five-year-old."
"And that patience and so-called wisdom paid off, how? Oh yes, by the Citadel being overrun by geth, leaving humanity to save them from their own stupidity!"
His knee-jerk reaction was to cite the presence of a Reaper making Eklund's point moot, but doing so would not help things. "The geth launched an all-out assault on the Citadel. They also used the Conduit, a back-door into the Citadel that the Protheans built secretly, which Saren used to capture the Citadel from the inside. I'll agree that the Citadel Fleet made some tactical blunders, but at the end of the day, the battle was a severe loss for the geth, and a victory for us."
"A severe loss for the geth?" Eklund repeated. "How would we know? The Council never sent any ships to scout the geth where they live, so how do we have any idea how many ships they have? No, the Citadel Fleet stayed put at their little throne, so they could get blown up when the war was taken to them."
Now that they were discussing fleet tactics, Shepard was far more at ease. "Clinton, as much as I respect your oratory ability, your tactical ability leaves much to be desired." Eklund looked like he'd been slapped. Gotcha. "The Citadel Fleet did what the Alliance fleets mainly do: stay on standby at strategic locations, and then attack in force when you have a real target to hit. Between the attacks on Eden Prime and the Citadel, the only colony actually attacked was Feros—and that colony was made up of less than a hundred people. Where would the Council have sent their fleet? Into enemy territory, blind?
"Your suggestions would have left the Citadel largely undefended. Worse, they might have resulted in the destruction of the Citadel Fleet in a trap."
And then, he let his anger show. "And those brave men and women who fought in the battle didn't sit on their asses waiting to be blown up. Show some goddamn respect, Eklund, for the people who saved millions of lives at the Citadel, and maybe even saved your life, too. Soldiers with less self-control might have punched you in the face for that comment. I just happen to know that you're not worth it."
Eklund's face shifted from shock to indignity. "That's not what I said, Shepard, and you know it."
"Really?" John asked, now indignant himself. "All I've heard you say since we started this interview is disrespect and insults. The Council does a good job. They aren't always right, and sometimes they may even make stupid mistakes, but at the end of the day, they make this galaxy a much better place.
"You're sitting here on Earth, ranting about galatic politics and wars. You have every right to do that, but don't think for a second that you know everything, that you're some expert on it all. Because you're not. I've been all over this galaxy. I've fought geth in Prothean ruins. I've shouted at the Council in the Citadel Tower and the COM room of my ship. I've become good friends with a krogan battlemaster, a turian C-Sec agent, and a quarian engineer. The person I recommended for the human seat on the Council ended up getting it. I've been around, Eklund. Have you?"
Clinton looked pissed, but he wasn't out of the game yet. "You're a soldier, Shepard. You follow orders. Don't pretend that you know politics."
"Really?" John repeated. "Tell me, what do you know that I don't?"
The commentator was coming apart at the seams, and his true colors were showing. "I know not to give a turian free reign aboard a prototype Alliance ship and a quarian a job in the ship's engine room. I know you're pro-alien, but I wonder if you're really looking out for humanity's interests at all."
John sat back, relaxed. The juxtaposition between the furious, barely-contained Eklund and the nonchalant Shepard did not go unnoticed. "Your racism is noted, but not appreciated. That turian is now a Spectre. He volunteered to help me go after Saren and the geth, without payment of any kind, and put his life on the line to protect yours. So did the quarian, who, by the way, has a name. Tali'Zorah nar Rayya, in case you're curious, which you're obviously not.
"I've been aboard starships most of my life. Please, don't tell me how to run mine." Clinton looked ready to burst, so John decided to hammer it home. "I'd like to think that a group of committed, selfless, and friendly people, whatever the species, can work towards a goal without suspicion of each other.
"And while we're at it, let's compare what each of us has done for humanity. I've helped save Elysium from slavers and pirates. I've become humanity's first Spectre. I helped save the colony of Feros, and destroyed Saren's base on Virmire. I brought down Saren Arterius and helped stop the geth invasion of the Citadel. And I'm told that I was instrumental in getting humanity a seat on the Council less than a year after becoming its first Spectre. How about you?"
Eklund gave Shepard a death glare. "Not everyone helps humanity by shooting at things."
"No," John agreed. "Some just spout uninformed rants about galactic politics in an attempt to paint nonhumans as stupid. I'm sure our trade agreements with the massive asari and turian economies benefit from that quite a bit."
Not satisfied with that zinger, he took advantage of Eklund's silence. "You know, I was so nervous about this interview that I told myself I'd rather face a platoon of geth. I wasn't kidding. It seems like I shouldn't have been worried, though. You thought you'd make me look bad by talking about military tactics, which, I'm sure you realize now, was a terrible tactical decision on your part." He offered his hand with a smile, making the juxtaposition plainly comical. "I'm not a Major for nothing, you know. Good game."
"And we're out," said the director.
Eklund stood up, not as contained as before. "One day your naivety is going to bite you and our species in the ass. I just hope you live to see it." Without another word, he turned around and left.
John left himself, finding Liara and Janine waiting for him. The former was smiling openly; the latter surprisingly had a tiny one herself. "You did well," Liara complimented. "Slightly arrogant, but not unreasonably so."
"Not to mention that it's going to be circulated across the globe," Avery said, walking around the corner. "I've never seen him worked up like that. Your performance wasn't perfect by any means, but I'd say you did extremely well for day one."
"I'd just like to point out," John said, "that my job description says absolutely nothing about TV interviews."
"I doubt it says anything about saving the galaxy, either," Liara joked.
"Well, actually—"
"John." Shut up and read between the lines, he realized she was saying.
And then he understood. "Oh. Right. Yeah, we're, uh, wasting time here. We should be heading back to the hotel." Because my girlfriend wants to jump me, he tactfully left out.
As far as beginnings went, it was a hell of a lot better than the Normandy's shakedown run.
A/N: Wow, that was a doozey. Sorry for the long wait, this chapter went through a LOOOOT of revisions.
Anyway, thanks for the reviews, guys. They are the reason this chapter is even out at all. Special thanks to yog, who pointed out that the salvage operations of the Collector vessel would reveal some interesting things. So that whole meeting in the PM's office, and the part where Shepard comes up, was added as a result. Yeah. Half the chapter.
Please review! Nothing motivates me to write more and faster than a good, lengthy review. They are the only reason this story went past the first chapter, too.
